Three Women Book Novels & Stories

Right in the middle of the living room like some kind of depraved altar, which honestly felt appropriate given the evening's activities. Three women were tangled across silk sheets, all soft skin and wicked smiles and the kind of practiced confidence that said they knew exactly what they were doing and how much it was worth. The blonde was stretched out closest to me, looking like sin wrapped in candlelight. The dark-haired one had her chin propped on her hand, watching me with eyes that saw too much for my liking. And the redhead was nursing a glass of wine, her hair catching the light in a way that made something twist behind my ribs.

However, to my surprise, it was three very gorgeous and tall women that stepped out of his room. The three women had figures like models. They were tall with attractive faces. One had platinum blonde hair that must have taken her hours in the salon to achieve. While the other had dark hair with stunning blue eyes. The third women had auburn hair with beautiful green eyes. The only thing common about the three women, apart from their beauty and height, was the fact that they were not wearing very much.

I stood up hastily, shoving the chair back, hitting the person sitting behind me. I didn’t care who. Turning my head around, I glared at the women dressed like they had all the money in the world. Only because their husbands were wealthy. These women had nothing to live for, no ambition, and no expectation—nothing—and yet they had the mouths to comment on the people who did. I rolled my eyes at them and sighed, unwilling to waste my precious breath on them. If it had been me, I wouldn’t have said anything, but they had been insulting my husband more. And he and my family were the only people I would never tolerate others badmouthing.

He bowed and walked away. "Why is my life so complicated?" She sighed and looked around, hoping to find something that would distract her from her wild thoughts. Her eyes caught the sight of a long book shelf at the far end of the lounge. She carefully walked toward it, admiring the beauty of the many books that sat in the shelf. "Woah..." She mouthed. She picked one of the books and sat down close to the window. "The history of werewolves..." She whispered as she ran her fingers over the book. She opened the book and in less than an hour, she fell asleep.

Three women I tried to love. Three women who stopped breathing in their sleep. The first was Elara. Sweet. Quiet. She liked to read by the window. I found her on the floor of her bedroom. No marks. No blood. Just empty eyes staring at the ceiling. The second was Mira. Strong. Brave. She could fight better than most of my warriors. She died in my arms. One moment she was laughing. The next, her body went limp. The third was Sera. I did not even get to know her. She arrived at the fortress. She stayed for three days. On the fourth morning, the servants found her cold in bed.

A girl asked behind Imogen. "I was just looking around" She answered. "Alright, take your time, miss" The girl smiled and left. Imogen wandered around the bookstore, looking at every shelf for a book to read until her eyes found one. "Longing For A Woman" She called out and reached for it, but a voice stopped her and took it before she could. "Longing For A Woman, written by Emma stones, is a story that tells the tale of two women falling in love and parting," A man said while Imogen moves back, a bit uncomfortable.

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

The absurdity of it—that I'm having a career crisis while staring at a sleeping cat—almost makes me laugh. Almost. I duck inside, shaking off rain, and the owner barely glances up from her register. It's warm and quiet, smelling like old paper and coffee. I wander through the stacks, not looking for anything specific, just needing to be somewhere that isn't a hotel room or Damien's orbit. My hand lands on a book about women who changed careers in their thirties. I pull it out, flipping through pages of stories about lawyers who became farmers, executives who became teachers, women who chose passion over prestige and somehow survived.

A white couch appears out of thin air as the women sit as one. “Glad you are all here.” One of the women says, her eyeless sockets freaking me out. “This makes it easier to relay our message.” Another woman, the only one of the three that has eyes in her socket, finishes for her sister. Who are these women? Remiel’s body stiffens at the women’s words, his demeanor becoming suspicious. “Ladies.” He nods to the three women seated on the couch, slowly moving his body closer to where Levi and I sit on the bed, naked. My eyes widen in embarrassment as I rush to cover myself with a pillow close by.

When women are oppressed, it's tradition. ― Letty Cottin Pogrebi “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” ― Margaret Atwood “Life affords you infinite possibilities to pay more attention to what is actually happening. Not just around you but what is Inside you.” ―Jeff Warren