Woman Reading Novels & Stories

My hand trembled as I finally mustered the courage to turn the doorknob. Calm down, I took some deep breaths, controlling my emotions as I opened Brandon’s room. Inside, I saw Brandon lying on the bed talking to a woman. She is beautiful, with long flowing hair, a warm smile, and a comforting presence. But who is she? As I stepped closer, I noticed the genuine smile on Brandon's face, putting my initial worries at ease. It was clear that their conversation was filled with warmth and familiarity. Curiosity piqued, I couldn't help but wonder how this woman fit into Brandon's life and what their connection might be.

At least now I wasn’t completely defenseless. I stepped closer to the door, my breathing uneven again, my palms sweating against the metal. Just open it. I heard movements. Someone was there. My vision blurred for a second, panic hitting so hard it made my knees weak. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus, my grip tightening on the extinguisher as I forced myself to look. And then I almost screamed. A woman was standing right at the doorway. Middle-aged, maybe older. Her hair was white, soft and uneven like it hadn’t been styled in a long time. She held gardening tools in her hands, dirt smudged along her sleeves.

"Just assume you're wiping the blood of your foes off your hands, bro. Don't worry, we'll back you up." Everyone around me barks out their laughter, save for Matt, who is scrolling through his phone. I wait a beat, then throw my head back with a laugh. If that won't mean spending the rest of my life in jail, then murdering that fucking perpetrator sure will be worth it. "Yoo-hoo boys!" A tall woman sashays towards us in a tiny white dress, her flowing red mane bouncing behind her. Two brunettes fall into step at both sides, moving like all three were just disgorged from an '80s hit music video. From the way Wade's eyes dilated as he stares at the redhead, I'm guessing the woman in the middle

I lightly trace the rough foundation of the photograph and strain my eyes to decipher the situation, but with no luck. "What is it?" I whisper to myself, beyond curious at the subject beneath the burnt remains. One photo happens to be burned, but not badly enough like the rest. You can clearly see the face of a woman smiling to someone below but the rest had fallen victim to flames. She's an older woman, with dark skin and short black hair tied in a bun. I've never seen her before.

In the predominantly white room with various wooden ornaments including the massive window frames, there is no sound other than the intermittent sighs and continuous pounding of a pair of humans without any covering on the bed. The woman squatted over the man holding her waist, pressing deeply into the object entering her snatch, then lifting her buttocks high until the long object was almost released, then repeating the same motion. The long hair behind her continued to swing in various directions at random. Her body was already very wet with sweat, dripping from her tired face that was forced to shake by the hand holding her.

Hence, I asked the woman kindly, "Did the HR department not pay you the compensation for firing you according to your employment contract?" The woman could only stammer in response. Tears began flowing down her cheeks at that moment. Soon, she was crying so hard that she could barely breathe. Amidst her sobs, she made sure to shout at me in a cutesy voice, "So what if you're rich?" With that, she ran away once again. I finally understood what was going on. That woman was another one of my many crazed admirers. She was purely acting out of the ordinary just to attract my attention.

I'm immediately filled with a sense of relief, and I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. It isn't him. After everything that's happened, I don't think I'm ready to face my warden just yet. Especially after last night. The woman in question is tall, and if I were to guess, not past sixty. She's dressed in plain dark clothes and has her greying hair tucked underneath a ruffled headpiece. She reminded me of somebody's grandma who never skipped Sunday service. The kind of woman who probably smelled like cinnamon and always had a warm batch of cookies in the oven.

The man supplied the fake name he had used in booking his room. Mary smiled seductively at him and replied to him. "Okay Adam." She said with a sexy voice and winked at him. "Do you want to see me tonight after your return? In your room to have me all to yourself?" She added ignoring those around her as she pointed to her big cleavage which she opened a little bit by the time she had finished her statements. She was a beautiful lady and has the shape of eight(8) that guys would love to date her.

My hair is still blowing. I was suddenly alerted when I felt a presence at my side. "Hello, Miss. Are you alone here?" I turned to a woman who I thought was about as tall as Allison. I thought it was her, but the woman next to me had short hair. The woman is wearing a black crop top, high-waisted pants, a white cardigan, and flat sandals. She is holding a bottle of wine. She is beautiful. She’s wearing makeup, but not too much.

A drop of sweat trickles down in between my breasts and I can feel it still rolling down, and more following after. Forcing myself to remain steady, I take my time to look at them. They're sitting, but I can still tell that they're all above six feet. There's a woman with them. Her auburn coloured hair falls down to her back, and she has the prettiest amber eyes I've ever seen. She's a really beautiful woman, and from the way one of the men holds her possessively, I can tell she's his wife. They're all inked, although it's at different places.