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My name is Violet P. Snicket. Quite a few many years ago, I grew up a Baudelaire. That seems a lifetime ago.
My husband, Lemony, may have told the story of my childhood to you. I admit he is a great story teller. He added a lot of details that are certainly interesting and entertaining...
The beat of the bass guitar, the drum pounding, the rhythm of the music pulsed as though at one with Sandys body. She closed her eyes. Holding a hot iron away form her and the ironing board Sandy spread her knees squatting as she swayed, her hips rolling from side to side. One, two, three to the...
Leila had spent the morning cleaning her apartment. It was now nearly two weeks since she had first met David. She could hardly believe that she remembered the day she now thought of as "naked Friday" almost fondly. She still blushed occasionally when she thought of the six hours she had spent...
