A sad story about a shitrag, that gets used and dumped, by older female colleagues. Someone with little or no sense of self worth.

I have not thought that far yet. I am in a financial fix and after much soul searching, I realized the only thing I do well is write.

The blogs and Face Book offer me an opportunity to put the stories up and small scale businesses put up adverts for a small fee.

This means more sufurias of ugali for my table, so to speak.

Grand you like the writing. It is the result of too much Robert Ludlum and Wilbur Smith in my youth.

We met last evening. It was a long time, we agreed.

"What do you do nowadays?" She asked.

"Well, I write nasty stories that reside deep in my dirty mind" I said with a straight face.

"Oh really?" She gashed. I have a dirty little story, would you write it for me? She asked.

"Of course. Tell it to me." I said.

Well folks, here goes. It is cold and that cup of whatever poison you take will not be good enough, so partake to your mind of a hot cup of..... and help battle the cold.

Enjoy.

Very interesting

A twist in this tale.

It still does not sit well on my soul but my dirty mind has it that it has to be out there.

Same link for the full story, twenty pages of it.

Enjoy? I do not know.[/quote]