The lunchtime rush has long since subsided, I have plenty of tables to choose from. Alone at a low table for two in my favourite coffee house, a welcome respite from the daily grind, I relax into my upholstered chair with a copy of the evening paper. My eyes flick between stories of international tragedy, financial uncertainty and society parties. This place is so familiar to me; I can easily tune out the irregular sounds...

Reed is a lover, a bounder, a rake, Where hearts are wanting, he’s there on the take. In low conversations of hearts in need, Whispered enquiries: “Have you tried Reed?” Effortless grace and boundless urbanity;  He thinks of himself, a gift to humanity. This little boy blue will blow your horn, A smile to wear for one's rivals to scorn. Simple gratification with minimal fuss,  A tick in your box, a thumbs up from us. Don’...

Her heels clacked as she strode purposefully across the parquet floor of the small, independent art gallery. It was late morning, midweek in early November and she almost had the place to herself. She had plenty of time and space to enjoy any of the exhibits, but she was there for just one small photograph.  "Une fleur de Créteil", Emile LeFevre, Daguerreotype, Paris 1847 revealed the sign beside the velvet-lined case con...

Let's talk about sex and drugs. Two drugs in particular: amphetamines and opiates. Not the dodgy kind you buy from a guy who "knows someone" - no, the natural kind, the drugs that are made inside our own bodies. When we first fall in love with someone - and we're in that passionate maelstrom - we can't eat, we're distracted, we blush, get butterflies in our stomach, our libido goes through the roof. This is all down to a...

After a hard day of meetings, I stepped on the train at York with a two and half hour journey back to London ahead of me. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself; the day had been long and productive but they'd be no more work today. No checking emails, no planning, just unwind on the train with the crossword and a couple of cans. My day had been going well but it was about to get a lot better. I made my way to my reserv...

Dedication: This story is just a bit of fun and is respectfully dedicated to all the tireless story checkers on Lush, whose hard work makes this site possible and who have to put with rubbish like this every day. Also, thanks must go to Fugly, whose story "Bag of Lush All Sorts" was the inspiration for this piece.I was in only my second month at Global Biofuels and still finding my way around the organisation. As the head...

This has to stop I can't do this anymore I've neglected my life For too long The guilt is too much Please be happy for me I'll always think of you I'm deleting this account I've closed my facebook I've changed my number I'm moving house You won't see me You won't hear from me Until I need to have you again

Disclaimer: The characters here are all ficticious, as are the events. Any similarities to anyone "real" are purely coincidental.Husband dropped off at the station, kids dropped off at school, Karen lay back on her sofa and logged on. Four unread messages, three friends online - the screen advised her. Within seconds the first request to chat appeared. Martin says: I'm so glad you're here, I hope you're well. xx A smirk c...

Heidihad almost forgotten what dry clothes felt like. Two months in the rain forest had been an unbelievable experience but the constant heat, humidity and hammering rain was wearing. She knew how lucky she was to be here - in her first year at Cambridge and invited to join one of the most important studies into Pre-Columbian anthropology, spear-headed by Randall: the foremost authority on the subject, best-selling author...

I need to open my eyes. Come on, wake up. I blearily blink my eyes. I’m lying on my back; naked in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. How long have I been asleep? Why am I still wearing my watch? I turn my head to the right and see her. She’s lying in the bed on her side with her back to me, propped up on one elbow. Naked as well, from what I can see. The rhythmic tapping telling me she’s working on her laptop, mayb...

Amanda loved Christmas. The piped music in the shopping centre reminded her - it was the most wonderful time of the year. She never needed an excuse to shop and she enjoyed buying things for others even more than buying for herself. It was great to be out of the house too and being productive. Since her two girls had started school and with her husband often working away, she had found herself with far too much time at he...