Ally Beardsley Age Novels & Stories

‘Time to get measuring,’ I told her. PA cottoned on, then looked exasperated. ‘Beardsley, the artist, 19th century?’ ‘The same.’ ‘Beardsley says a woman should be, foot to cheek-overhang, forty-four inches?’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘Yes.’ ‘Connie ...!’ ‘What?’ was all I could manage. ‘Don’t you play games with your husband anymore?’ ‘Not daft ones!’ ‘All games are daft. Why this one especially?’

It was all Leigh could do to keep from drooling. “Sorry I took so long," he apologized. "You know, I used to like beards when I was younger, at about age twelve, thirteen. Then I hit sixteen, and started growing hairs under my chin. At first I was happy, I was finally growing into a manhood. Then at night my beard would itch so bad I would almost scratch my chin off. I decided months later that I didn’t care for a beard and would not let a hair grow on my chin ever since."

“Brady is definitely not my type. Besides, he must be a couple decades younger than I am. He’s only hitting on me because he was just humiliated in front of everyone by his pregnant girlfriend, and he needs a rebound. Unfortunately for me, I’m the only single woman under the age of seventy around here.” Charles looked Bev over. She didn’t look that old; he had figured mid-thirties. Now that he looked closer, he could see the laugh lines that hinted at her age. She was probably only a few years younger than he was. “Sounds like you had it under control,” he said. “Sorry I butted in.” He turned to go, but Bev’s hand shot out and rested on Charles’ arm.

Elder Chase stated closing the door behind him. Elder Chase had a shorter stature, he had light brown hair with speckles of gray mixed in. He had a well-trimmed beard that covered the lower half of his face. He appeared to be in his early sixties so in wolf years he was probably over 125 years old.

“Is there something admirable about the menu?” Tessa turned to face the bearded man leaning closer to her. “Huh?” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you’ve been staring at the poor thing for minutes. Ordinarily, I would have let you take your time but my sight is a bit foggy and I need breakfast else I risk fainting.” He made a weird face that sent Tessa over the moon with laughter. He was younger than she first thought, late twenties, maybe early thirties with a loosened scarf and a very expressive face that Tessa found to be quite intriguing.

“That should be the last one,” a handsome looking young man of about 1.7 meters in height stated as he tossed a large red leopard onto a small pile of dead creatures. The young man had shaggy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. This young man was none other than Abelard. It had only been six months, yet the fat on his face had disappeared, and his height was anything but the height of an eleven year old. His broad shoulders and powerful arms was the envy of any other man, much less a boy. He held a large sword over his shoulder. The sword was a claymore, and it was several kilograms heavier than any regular heavy sword. His physique was worthy of one who belonged to the Clan of Wyverns. As

Melissa must remind him of the past. "I'm a wee short on supplies, but I'm no monster." He stepped aside, inviting them in. This man seemed to be in his early 30s. He had a short, stubble beard that was well-kept and large muscles were visible through his white t-shirt. His face was slightly wrinkled yet he still managed to look young. He was tall, yet relaxed as he gazed at them with curiosity.

I even bowed and looked really uncomfortable saying the words I released so that I can look convincing enough. "I'm Allistair, I've said that earlier already. I'm twenty-nine, and turning twenty next three months. How about you? How old are you?" he asked. "I'm twenty-three and turning thirty next month. I'd like to invite you to my party but then I suddenly realized there's no gonna be a party." I'm sharing facts, I hope I don't regret this decision later on. Hays. "I can help you celebrate your birthday event, I can organize a small gathering for your birthday. Would you like that, Carrie?" he asked and his offer made me stun.

"Pity I don't have a long-sleeved swimsuit, otherwise I could have a whole lot of fun." "There should be some on sale here. I've sent someone to buy one for you. They'll definitely send it over by noon," Bellamy said softly. Waverly turned her head to see Bellamy standing up straight. It was said that men would look old and tired once they reached their threshold of the forties. For a 41-year-old, the attrition of time had indeed spared Bellamy. At most, he looked like he was in his thirties. He was mature, reserved, sunny, and handsome.

I say half laughing. He sat back for a moment, his eyes were as black as Mave's and he had a strong build and square shoulders, strong. His hair reached his shoulders and he had a bit of a beard, his hair was jet black. If I didn't know any better I'd say he looks more like my brother than our father does. "How old did you say you were?" He asked, putting a hand through his medium curly beard. "I didn't tell you my age, sir, however I am nineteen," I replied, becoming more and more curious about this man.