The air in the Parisian night was thick with the promise of rain and the lingering scent of Gwendolyn's perfume, something floral and dark like night-blooming jasmine. I was eighteen, and every nerve in my body was a live wire, strung taut by the sheer, intoxicating fact of her. Gwendolyn, the daughter of my host family, was a Swiss goddess with eyes that held the history of the world and a smile that could make a man for...

Just as Sarah finished her breathless description of the forbidden act in the laundry room, and before the girls could act on Linda’s trance-like state, Linda snapped back to reality, but only marginally. The sheer force of the nymphomania triggered by the narrative left her utterly shattered, robbing her of her anger and control. Linda's eyes snap open, wide and glazed, staring past her daughters. She yanks her hand away...

Laundry Room Confessions "Girls! What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Linda's voice, usually soft, cracked with a mixture of shock and fury. "Get to the living room. Now! We are going to talk about this." She pointed a trembling finger towards the doorway, her eyes wide with disbelief and horror. "And don't you dare move until I get there." As the girls quickly left the room, Linda remained rooted in place. Silenc...