A Short Story

While the rest of the team had fallen asleep, I still laid awake lost in thought. We have already been on this plane for nineteen hours and thirty minutes. Which means we only have 20 minutes left on this horrible flight. I started to consider if we should've chosen a different airline, but then I realized I only dislike the 20 hours on this plane. I probably would've enjoyed this plane more if it wasn’t 20 hours. I don’t really know why, because I do enjoy the peacefulness I find on all planes.

As expected, when Tom opened his locker the following morning, he found a note from Tyrell. Typed on a ripped piece of paper, the instructions were clear yet concise.

The muttered epitet escaped FBI Special Agent Carter's lips, and whisked through the cold night air as he stared down at the corpse. Despite his hopes when the call had come in, there was no doubt.

“Hey, not bad,” Verin remarked as they entered the hangar where the Thunderclap sat. “That thing as roomy as it looks?” The bounty hunter radiated energy on a level that rivaled Fynta. Jorgan sympathized with the man. He clearly worried about his wife, but forced a cheerful facade for reasons Jorgan would never understand. Cormac did the same when he was nervous, whereas Fynta fought back with snark, and Dorne with research. Aric wondered if he had a coping mechanism, then remembered his reputation for being a hardass.

She'd been in his apartment for a matter of minutes, and Elena was already naked and about to sink to her knees to suck his cock. Brett couldn't help but feel a little guilt, and possibly shame, run through this veins, even as his erection throbbed in his pants. No one normally needing to pay a woman for sex him, and even though there was a purpose behind it, that still didn't sit well with him. Neither did the fact that his employee's dates usually at least wined and dined them first, with sex, if it occurred desert on top of the main for the client, rather than the purpose in itself. They were escorts, not prostitutes.

He could sense the second he found it, that spot that would tip her over the edge, and Brett watched Elena's expression, entranced. His fingers worked relentlessly inside her as he felt her climax building and when she shivered and gasped, then came for him, he felt a sense of satisfaction, but also another, indefinable, emotion. More than simple lust. Whatever it was, as she writhed in pleasure, it led to him kissing Elena again hungrily, tongue pushing deep into her mouth, sucking licking and nibbling hers with their lips mashed together, and hot breathy pants mingling. "Good girl."

As the girls finally got comfortably adjusted into the nonchalant schedule of being stuck inside the house all day due to the typical England weather and their hopes of adventuring were soon diminished with the first drops of rain falling from the abundance of clouds, their

Two months later on a Saturday morning, Charlie threw a dish rag over her shoulder and answered the knock at her door.

She'd been in his apartment a matter of mere minutes, and Elena was already naked and about to blow him. Brett felt a touch guilty as his erection throbbed in his pants. Not accustomed to paying for sex, although there was a greater intent behind it on this occasion, it didn't sit well. Nor did the knowledge that the girl's clients usually accompanied them to a gala event that under other circumstances they'd never gain access to, or at least wined and dined them first. Sex was expected only as a sweet dessert to top off the main course. Brett was also a man who liked to take his time to ensure women enjoyed the experience as much as he did.

Lincoln found a convenient wall to lean against for a few moments. He had to plan his next move. This was a typical process for a trained agent. He focussed on the main objectives he was sent there for in the first place. Find where this group is operating from. Find who runs it and where they were getting their weapon supplies from. Also how they were being funded. Once done, the AST and the other agencies can step in and eliminate them all. If his spy drone works and the local intel is correct, the first two objectives are almost met. So Lincoln’s current objective was to make sure his drone was working. Once that was confirmed, then get to the Government Headquarters where he first was met and contact the AST. The main problem with that

" Y'ARE very snug in here," piped old Mr. Woodifield, and he peered out of the great, green leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was over; it was time for him to be off. But he did not want to go. Since he had retired, since his... stroke, the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day of the week except Tuesday. On Tuesday he was dressed and brushed and allowed to cut back to the City for the day. Though what he did there the wife and girls couldn't imagine. Made a nuisance of himself to his friends, they supposed ... Well, perhaps so. All the same, we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves. So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and

After four hours of complicated algebraic equations, and unquantifiable amount of differential equations, the clock struck midnight. It was late at night and I was winding down from a long day of school work. My body sagged with fatigue, arms unable to rise above my waist, and my head drooped in eagerness to meet my bed. Of course I was eager in turn to meet my head’s throbbing expectations, leaping into bed to a night long and full of eventful dreams. Then I heard those fatal words, courtesy of my darling mother ,” Did you have good day? Did you get everything done that you needed to?”

About an hour later, Phillip and his parents sat down together to watch one of the cinema record files that was stored on his notepad computer. The house’s mainframe computer had linked the tiny device’s hard drive up to its server so the record could be played on the home’s master television viewing screen.

Summer was approaching, Megan could tell by the way the warmth of the sun danced across her skin. She was finishing up her last week of school, excited to see what summer adventures she would have this year with her parents. The school bell rang and all of the students ran to line up in front of the door, screaming goodbyes at the teacher and at each other. One by one, they exited the classroom, made their way down the once colorful halls, and then out the doors to greet whoever was picking them up that day. Megan searched the crowd of parents, sprinting towards her father who was standing with his arms wide open.

Great news! Your niece will be home soon. That's wonderful news. There's no us, Cosmo.