Stories by Gwen

I feel silky flower petals gliding up my spine, then softness against my wrist, my palm. The blooms make the return trip, up to my shoulder, my neck, and down my left arm, goosebumps trailing in their wake. She places the flower in the vase on my bedside table. One in the vase. Five remain. --- The doorbell rings shortly after I get home. I'm padding around in socks, looking forward to leftovers and Netflix. She stands on my porch in the rain. "Gwen," I say. "I wasn't expecting you." Gwen gives me that look, the one that melts me. Her lips curve in a knowing smile. She's carrying a small bouquet. Calla lilies. "Are you going to invite me in?" I like flowers - what girl doesn't? - but I know better than to take a bouquet from Gwen at face value. Why lilies? I know her too well to think she chose them for their fragrance. They're symbols. Puzzle pieces. I'm overthinking this, I know. But I know Gwen too. There's ...

I pedal a little harder as I round the last corner, the wind tickling my cheek as I hurry home. I press the remote and the garage door opens just as I arrive. It swings shut behind me as I lift my bike onto the rack. I hear the door open behind me. I turn to face Joyce. "No briefcase?" she asks. I hold my empty hands out and wiggle my fingers. "I'm taking the night off," I say. "There's nothing left but some revised proofs. I can check them in the morning." Joyce raises one eyebrow. "Monday, I mean," I say. "I'll read them Monday morning." Joyce's broad smile melts me as it always does. She takes my hand and draws me down the hall. She is leading me to my study, but I stop her, pushing her back against the wall. I kiss her pretty mouth and press the length of my body against hers, holding her there. I take hold of her hands then, and raise her outstretched arms in half circles until they are pointing straight up ab...