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Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.

So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. I think I could write a story about that crooked, twisty stairwell and the room at the top of it.

Their gift shop had terrific t-shirts with a quote from The Scarlet Letter. I suspect the folks who were close enough to hear my half of the conversation were intrigued.

No worries, you Emily Posts out there; I stepped outside to make the call. People just kind of wandered into my "phone zone.

Do I really need another t-shirt? Posted by bella at 6: Tuesday, May 29, Everything is Subject to Change.

Such is the life of a road warrior, she thought to herself. Two hours of podunk middle of nowhere with only Boston and The Clash to keep her company.

No radio station would stay with her long enough to make it through one song. There was no one to blame but herself, she thought, as she pictured her CD case laying on her nightstand at home.

Next to her bed. She shook off the thought and drove onward. She turned the volume up and was determined to hear that line. Then you left me, so you took that track.

Give it a rest and move on. And so it went for the next hour. Finally, like a neon oasis in the desert of pine trees, she spotted her destination.

As she rolled to the top of the ramp, she rolled her head around, loosening the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

I see all my dreams come tumbling down. She pulled up to the door of the lobby and went inside. Behind the desk was a young kid.

Too young to be manning the desk on the evening shift. He was tall and thin and his hands seemed too large for his body. She drove around to her room, , and parked in front of the door.

The silver Volvo with Vermont plates was parked two spaces over in front of room Posted by bella at 7: He was in town on business.

It was his first night here and his first visit to the city. She directed the conversation with ease and dropped some major hints about what they might be doing elsewhere.

He seemed flattered to have the company and a bit uneasy with the aggressive flirting. In the elevator he kissed her. It was a sloppy, wet, formless kiss.

The kind she detested. Once they were in his room, she quickly started to undress him and avoided his mouth by kissing her way down his skin behind her fingers as they unbuttoned and unzipped.

She turned off the lights and they fell into bed. He fucked her missionary style and did so very much like he kissed. It was sloppy and formless.

She pulled some tricks out of her arsenal like gripping his cock tightly when he pulled back. She also ran a finger along the crack of his butt cheeks, teasing at the puckered spot below.

He grunted and it was over soon enough. She extracted herself from his arms and pushed the bathroom door closed before turning on the light.

The A stared back at her and she almost whimpered in desperation. She looked at him from the doorway. She drove aimlessly for a while and then knew she had to face the inevitable.

Her husband would be expecting her and would be ready for a night of sex. He always was when she returned from a trip.

She went in and found he was already in bed. She reached to turn the lamp off and he stirred, telling her to leave it on.

He pulled her onto him and kissed her slowly, working his way along her jaw line to her ear lobe, where he nibbled and sucked softly. He knew where her buttons were and simply pressed them every time.

He rolled over so they were facing one another and reached inside her blouse to play with her breast. He continued to kiss her, working his way down to the nape of her neck now.

His hand played with her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. He led her to his study where he turned on the light and pushed her roughly over the back of an over-stuffed chair.

He tapped the inside of an ankle with his foot, silently telling her to spread her legs. Leaning down over her, his tongue found her ear again.

Before she had a chance to answer him, his hands were under her skirt, pulling it upward around her waist and pulling her panties down around her ankles, where he made her step out of one leg of them.

Just as quickly, his cock was buried in her cunt. She held onto the arms of the chair to brace herself. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used that to brace himself.

He fucked her hard, varying the pace to stop and look at his cock where it impaled her pussy. He pulled her hair hard and she moaned and arched her back, changing the angle of her cunt.

Then he fucked her fast and hard; the sound of his balls slapping her echoed in the room. This was an incredible stroke of luck that might buy her another day.

Her husband fucked her hard and she momentarily forgot about her predicament. Her cunt gripped his cock on each thrust and she soon heard signs of his impending orgasm.

He came hard and deep inside her. After he caught his breath, he helped her up and kissed her warmly. They walked to the bedroom, hand in hand, and she helped him undress.

She went off to the bathroom and as she stepped out of her skirt, she could feel come start to run out of her.

That was a feeling she loved. She started to plot her day tomorrow. The gym might be an option. Or a grocery store closer to the city.

It was unusual for her to feel uneasy about getting laid. It was something she did with ease anywhere else. She unbuttoned her blouse and was shocked to find the mark was gone.

She lifted her breast and looked more closely. No indication that anything had been there could be seen. Her skin was as creamy and pale as it always had been.

Stunned, thoughts raced through her mind. Maybe now the average-looking guy at the hotel was finding himself with a new mark on his body.

Mind still reeling, she walked out of the bathroom and stared at her husband. Already asleep on his side facing away from her, unaware of the new tattoo that now sat on the back of his shoulder.

She stood in the bedroom and her mind tried to comprehend the situation. Her husband was so proud of their fidelity.

He touted the benefits of a long marriage whenever the subject came up. She was in disbelief. Sleep was long in coming to her.

Her husband had been fucking someone else. She pictured the shapely co-eds that loved his classes. How stereotypical, she thought. Her mind felt numb and she tossed and turned until the sun came up.

Off to the gym or the pool or the basketball court. She tried not to think about the tattoo and at times she succeeded long enough to make her wonder if it had even been real.

When he came in from the gym, freshly showered she noticed, she followed him to the bedroom where they chatted and caught each other up on their day.

He was determined to get started on that list of chores and decided to do some touch-ups on a recent painting project.

She watched as he changed into old clothes, anxious for him to turn around so she could see for herself that it did indeed still exist.

He obliged unknowingly and she was amazed to find it was gone. Had it really happened? Was it a dream? She felt guilty for silently accusing him of sleeping with someone else.

But to be sure, she walked to the mirror and lifted her shirt. She saw only creamy pale skin and breathed a sigh of relief.

She vowed to put all of this out of her head. Chalking it up to the after-effects of too much alcohol, she told her mind to let it go.

They enjoyed a nice evening together. He grilled steaks and as they were sitting down to eat dinner, the doorbell rang. He had a stack of papers in his hand.

Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to drop off some papers before we leave town. After a moment of chit-chat about where he and his family were going for their spring break, her husband wished them a good trip and opened the door.

She added her farewell and they both watched from the doorway as Evan turned and walked back to his car. She saw it then, as plain as day… the tattooed letter A on the back of his muscular calf.

It was deep red, almost a burgundy color. Sunlight filtered in through the gauze-like sheers and she lazily opened her eyes. Make no mistake… she traveled a lot for work and had gone for quickies with men in places and situations that would make many women blush.

She worked hard and she played like a man. Even her husband thought so. Dark hair and dark eyes. A wave of nausea rode over her and she sat on the edge of the bed until it passed.

She hated hotel coffee. But that was a fortune for another day. She flipped on the light in the bathroom and shielded her eyes from the harsh brightness until they adjusted.

Splashing cool water onto her face, she drew a hand towel across her cheeks gently. She stared at her reflection noting the dark circles under her eyes.

The whites of her eyes were a little bloodshot. About an inch tall, the letter A appeared on her right breast, a couple of inches above her nipple.

She gasped and at the same time began washing it off, wondering where it had come from to start with. Come to think of it, he seemed a bit over-zealous.

A mild sense of panic mixed with irritation began to bubble its way to the surface. She tossed the washcloth to the floor and tried another approach: The A glared at her in the mirror.

Just then the phone rang. It was her wake-up call. She wanted to be out of this hotel, this function, this town, so she could put this behind her.

And as she scrubbed more furiously in the shower, she felt another wave of nausea when she tried to think how she was going to explain this to her husband when she got home.

She unpacked quickly and said she needed a shower to wash away the travel grime. She dropped her clothes in a pile and silently cursed as she saw it was still there.

Cupping her breast in her hand, she raised it to get a closer look and was shocked to see it was unmistakably a tattoo. It had to be.

Like many other things, she was experienced in this, too. She turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. The tiny ladybug on her right ass-cheek seemed to twitch its wings at her.

That one was from another drunken night, this time in college. She turned her attention back to her breast, comparing the colors and the depth of the designs.

There was no angry, inflamed skin surrounding it. It looked as if it had been there for years.

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News, reviews, updates and more for fans and developers alike. The latest news, scores and controversies in professional and collegiate sports thrown right into your inbox.

The news, trends and tech that is reshaping the rapidly changing world of Financial Markets. Share via Tell a friend. Inside Cloud Cloud computing, enterprise storage, big data, and more.

Inside Wine Grab the carefully selected updates and tips right from the grape vine! Inside Beer Industry buzz for professionals who make, sell, or distribute beer.

Inside Real Estate For those in the business of buying, selling, and developing real estate. ReadThisThing Fascinating, curious and amazing journalism, all in one link.

Ours is to keep an eye on them. Inside Snap The best source of news, developments, and analysis about Snap, Inc. Inside Deals A hand-picked selection of products, deals, and ways to save money.

And I almost missed it Posted by bella at 3: Friday, July 27, Sonnet How is it, I wonder, that I made it through umpteen years of school and never read Shakespeare?

I have no idea. I ran across this recently and really liked it. Sonnet 57 Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire?

I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.

So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. I think I could write a story about that crooked, twisty stairwell and the room at the top of it.

Their gift shop had terrific t-shirts with a quote from The Scarlet Letter. I suspect the folks who were close enough to hear my half of the conversation were intrigued.

No worries, you Emily Posts out there; I stepped outside to make the call. People just kind of wandered into my "phone zone.

Do I really need another t-shirt? Posted by bella at 6: Tuesday, May 29, Everything is Subject to Change. Such is the life of a road warrior, she thought to herself.

Two hours of podunk middle of nowhere with only Boston and The Clash to keep her company. No radio station would stay with her long enough to make it through one song.

There was no one to blame but herself, she thought, as she pictured her CD case laying on her nightstand at home. Next to her bed. She shook off the thought and drove onward.

She turned the volume up and was determined to hear that line. Then you left me, so you took that track. Give it a rest and move on.

And so it went for the next hour. Finally, like a neon oasis in the desert of pine trees, she spotted her destination.

As she rolled to the top of the ramp, she rolled her head around, loosening the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

I see all my dreams come tumbling down. She pulled up to the door of the lobby and went inside. Behind the desk was a young kid.

Too young to be manning the desk on the evening shift. He was tall and thin and his hands seemed too large for his body. She drove around to her room, , and parked in front of the door.

The silver Volvo with Vermont plates was parked two spaces over in front of room Posted by bella at 7: He was in town on business.

It was his first night here and his first visit to the city. She directed the conversation with ease and dropped some major hints about what they might be doing elsewhere.

He seemed flattered to have the company and a bit uneasy with the aggressive flirting. In the elevator he kissed her.

It was a sloppy, wet, formless kiss. The kind she detested. Once they were in his room, she quickly started to undress him and avoided his mouth by kissing her way down his skin behind her fingers as they unbuttoned and unzipped.

She turned off the lights and they fell into bed. He fucked her missionary style and did so very much like he kissed. It was sloppy and formless.

She pulled some tricks out of her arsenal like gripping his cock tightly when he pulled back. She also ran a finger along the crack of his butt cheeks, teasing at the puckered spot below.

He grunted and it was over soon enough. She extracted herself from his arms and pushed the bathroom door closed before turning on the light.

The A stared back at her and she almost whimpered in desperation. She looked at him from the doorway. She drove aimlessly for a while and then knew she had to face the inevitable.

Her husband would be expecting her and would be ready for a night of sex. He always was when she returned from a trip.

She went in and found he was already in bed. She reached to turn the lamp off and he stirred, telling her to leave it on. He pulled her onto him and kissed her slowly, working his way along her jaw line to her ear lobe, where he nibbled and sucked softly.

He knew where her buttons were and simply pressed them every time. He rolled over so they were facing one another and reached inside her blouse to play with her breast.

He continued to kiss her, working his way down to the nape of her neck now. His hand played with her nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

He led her to his study where he turned on the light and pushed her roughly over the back of an over-stuffed chair. He tapped the inside of an ankle with his foot, silently telling her to spread her legs.

Leaning down over her, his tongue found her ear again. Before she had a chance to answer him, his hands were under her skirt, pulling it upward around her waist and pulling her panties down around her ankles, where he made her step out of one leg of them.

Just as quickly, his cock was buried in her cunt. She held onto the arms of the chair to brace herself. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used that to brace himself.

He fucked her hard, varying the pace to stop and look at his cock where it impaled her pussy. He pulled her hair hard and she moaned and arched her back, changing the angle of her cunt.

Then he fucked her fast and hard; the sound of his balls slapping her echoed in the room. This was an incredible stroke of luck that might buy her another day.

Her husband fucked her hard and she momentarily forgot about her predicament. Her cunt gripped his cock on each thrust and she soon heard signs of his impending orgasm.

He came hard and deep inside her. After he caught his breath, he helped her up and kissed her warmly. They walked to the bedroom, hand in hand, and she helped him undress.

She went off to the bathroom and as she stepped out of her skirt, she could feel come start to run out of her. That was a feeling she loved. She started to plot her day tomorrow.

The gym might be an option. Or a grocery store closer to the city. It was unusual for her to feel uneasy about getting laid.

It was something she did with ease anywhere else. She unbuttoned her blouse and was shocked to find the mark was gone. She lifted her breast and looked more closely.

No indication that anything had been there could be seen. Her skin was as creamy and pale as it always had been. Stunned, thoughts raced through her mind.

Maybe now the average-looking guy at the hotel was finding himself with a new mark on his body. Mind still reeling, she walked out of the bathroom and stared at her husband.

Already asleep on his side facing away from her, unaware of the new tattoo that now sat on the back of his shoulder.

She stood in the bedroom and her mind tried to comprehend the situation. Her husband was so proud of their fidelity. He touted the benefits of a long marriage whenever the subject came up.

She was in disbelief. Sleep was long in coming to her. Her husband had been fucking someone else. She pictured the shapely co-eds that loved his classes.

How stereotypical, she thought. Her mind felt numb and she tossed and turned until the sun came up. Off to the gym or the pool or the basketball court.

She tried not to think about the tattoo and at times she succeeded long enough to make her wonder if it had even been real. When he came in from the gym, freshly showered she noticed, she followed him to the bedroom where they chatted and caught each other up on their day.

He was determined to get started on that list of chores and decided to do some touch-ups on a recent painting project.

She watched as he changed into old clothes, anxious for him to turn around so she could see for herself that it did indeed still exist.

He obliged unknowingly and she was amazed to find it was gone. Had it really happened? Was it a dream? She felt guilty for silently accusing him of sleeping with someone else.

But to be sure, she walked to the mirror and lifted her shirt. She saw only creamy pale skin and breathed a sigh of relief.

She vowed to put all of this out of her head. Chalking it up to the after-effects of too much alcohol, she told her mind to let it go.

They enjoyed a nice evening together. He grilled steaks and as they were sitting down to eat dinner, the doorbell rang. He had a stack of papers in his hand.

Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to drop off some papers before we leave town. After a moment of chit-chat about where he and his family were going for their spring break, her husband wished them a good trip and opened the door.

She added her farewell and they both watched from the doorway as Evan turned and walked back to his car. She saw it then, as plain as day… the tattooed letter A on the back of his muscular calf.

It was deep red, almost a burgundy color. Sunlight filtered in through the gauze-like sheers and she lazily opened her eyes.

Make no mistake… she traveled a lot for work and had gone for quickies with men in places and situations that would make many women blush.

She worked hard and she played like a man. Even her husband thought so. Dark hair and dark eyes. A wave of nausea rode over her and she sat on the edge of the bed until it passed.

She hated hotel coffee. But that was a fortune for another day. She flipped on the light in the bathroom and shielded her eyes from the harsh brightness until they adjusted.

Splashing cool water onto her face, she drew a hand towel across her cheeks gently. She stared at her reflection noting the dark circles under her eyes.

The whites of her eyes were a little bloodshot. About an inch tall, the letter A appeared on her right breast, a couple of inches above her nipple.

She gasped and at the same time began washing it off, wondering where it had come from to start with. Come to think of it, he seemed a bit over-zealous.

A mild sense of panic mixed with irritation began to bubble its way to the surface. She tossed the washcloth to the floor and tried another approach: The A glared at her in the mirror.

Just then the phone rang. It was her wake-up call. She wanted to be out of this hotel, this function, this town, so she could put this behind her.

And as she scrubbed more furiously in the shower, she felt another wave of nausea when she tried to think how she was going to explain this to her husband when she got home.

She unpacked quickly and said she needed a shower to wash away the travel grime. She dropped her clothes in a pile and silently cursed as she saw it was still there.

Cupping her breast in her hand, she raised it to get a closer look and was shocked to see it was unmistakably a tattoo.

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