How Do O. Henry’S Best Short Stories Use Irony To Drive The Plot?

A diverse collection of short romantic stories and erotica to fulfill your fantasies. THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR 18+ AUDIENCE ONLY!

After the car accident, I was gravely injured. I begged my wife, Susie Rogers, to take me to the hospital. Instead, her face darkened, and she ordered someone to lock me inside a sauna heated to 180 degrees. The reason was simple: her brother-in-law, Chester Tucker, was scheduled for an appendectomy that day. To make sure I would not undergo surgery at the same time as him, she had me injected with a hundred coagulant shots. No matter how desperately I pleaded for her to save me, she remained unmoved. Ninety-nine needles pierced my body, each one intensifying the agony of my already severe injuries. The hundredth injection, she administered herself. Looking down at me in my misery, she said calmly, "Chester has had a hard enough life since losing his wife. As his sister-in-law, I'm only looking out for him. You weren't satisfied with driving him overseas; now you even staged a car accident to get surgery before him? "It seems I've spoiled you too much. That's why you dare to pull something like this. "The doctor said that with the injections and the high heat, your pain and bleeding would be controlled. Once Chester's surgery is done, you can have yours." In that moment, my heart turned to ash. When Chester's operation succeeded, Susie burst into tears of relief and even set off celebratory fireworks to mark his 'new beginning.' Later, as she watched him leave the hospital fully recovered, she finally remembered me and ordered someone to take me there. However, before they could, her assistant called. "The hospital has asked you to come and claim Mr. Lynch's…body."

"You're getting married today! It is your duty to your family! You must!" Claire's mother said as she held on to her daughter's hand while a veil was being fixed on her head. "Married! You must be joking mum! I'd rather jump off a cliff!" "Everyone is waiting Claire! You have no choice!" Her mother snapped at her and Claire snatched her hand away from hers in annoyance. "Why must I be forced to suffer for Charlotte's mistakes?!" Charlotte and Claire Branson are identical twins but have lived separate lives ever since they were born. Charlotte, being the perfect daughter and the better sister, was betrothed to marry Henry Laurent, the son of their long time friend and business partner. On the day of the wedding, the Bransons arrive in Charlotte's room to meet a note, Charlotte has eloped with their chauffeur, leaving her parents distraught. Quickly, her family moves to save themselves from public embarrassment and get Claire to stand in line for her sister. Claire refuses at first, but has no choice as she is pushed into the waiting arms of Henry Laurent, an unwilling partner of the marriage who had thought he was getting married to the 'better' sister. Claire is determined to hate her new husband, but this doesn't turn out as planned.

I lied to my husband, Tony Mercer, about working overtime and spent a month moonlighting at an upscale club. My coworkers were itching to land a sugar daddy or a rich cougar. All I wanted was to save up enough to buy him a nicer watch. He was in sales. A designer watch could spare him plenty of condescending looks and snide remarks. Scrimping on meals, working two jobs, I'd lost a lot of weight. My best friend Clara teased me for being lovesick. She didn't understand. How happy it made me to build a life side by side with the man I loved, working hard together. That evening, I carried a fruit platter to the door of a VIP suite and heard a familiar voice. "Tony, did you sign a prenup with Bianca?" "Obviously not. Otherwise how's he supposed to keep up the broke-guy act?" "So when you two divorce, Cinderella walks away with half your fortune? How generous of you!" I heard Tony scoff. "Generous? There's no legal marriage between us. How exactly would we divorce?" A thunderclap split through my skull. Every drop of blood in my body froze solid, and an icy chill shot through me from head to toe. Only one thought echoed in my mind. Tony, what kind of joke is this?

The new intern claimed she had clairvoyant sight. With just one look, she could tell exactly where the underground gold deposits were. As the institute’s chief gold prospector, I was deeply embarrassed. Every time I went through hell to locate a vein, she somehow managed to report it to the institute before I could. Even the engineering crew working under me was full of complaints. “What kind of chief prospector is she? Following her means panning in the river one day and digging holes in the mountains the next. We work ourselves half to death and get nothing to show for it!” “Exactly. Look at Jane. She just joined the institute and has already found two major gold mines. The crews working with her have already earned first-class commendations.” While the crew complained about me, I began to suspect that someone among them was leaking information. So the next time I went out to search for gold, I worked alone and finally found a major deposit. But just as I was about to report it to the institute, I discovered that Jane had beaten me to it again. That time, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I openly questioned her and accused her of stealing my work. She fired back, claiming her clairvoyant sight had shown her that I had been secretly pocketing gold from the mine. Even my fiancé stepped forward and testified against me. In the end, I was sent to prison on false charges and died there, never able to clear my name. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my fiancé’s junior apprentice first claimed she had clairvoyant sight.

My grandmother is, as far as the law is concerned, a dead woman. She faked her own death so she could go off with the boy she'd grown up beside, and she left evidence behind that made my grandfather her killer. He went away for twenty years. She sold his house and ran to Port Halcyon with the other man. One of them became a famous attorney who talks about justice in courtrooms. The other became a philanthropist who talks about compassion under television lights. My grandfather carried the word wife-killer for the rest of his life. My father grew up on whatever the neighbors could spare. He never spent a day in school, and he wore his hands raw laying brick until he'd put me through college. Two generations, two pairs of ruined hands, lifting me one step at a time out of Pinebarrow. Fifty years after my grandmother's fake death. I sit on the felony bench of the Dunstone Superior Court. In front of me are five young women charged in a murder. The case against the first four is airtight. Against the fifth, there's half a fingerprint at the scene and a witness who accounts for her entire night. Even the police call her the least likely of them. The murder charge won't hold. I go through her file. Under family, there's a name. Evelyn Harrow. My grandmother. I look at how much the two of them resemble each other. And when her lawyer moves to have her released from this courtroom a free woman, I bring the gavel down lightly. "This court denies the defense motion for dismissal. This court further recommends that the district attorney formally charge the defendant with murder."