Jenny Bryce was a cute little nineteen year-old coed at Great Plains University who was on a full-ride scholarship for gymnastics and was, at the moment, one of the ten cutest adult female human beings on planet Earth, where "cute" is a term that describes "delightfully pretty or dainty in a youthful, delicate way; fun-spirited; adorable." You know, perky, cheerful, daintily-petite, and at once both innocent and sexy. Oh, yes, Jenny was all of that from head to toes. Yes, indeed, she was. It was a quarter after seven in the morning and Jenny had been lost in sexual reverie since at least half-past five...her sheets were damp with sweat and the room had a hot, stuffy, sultry air about it that defied the cool crispness of the morning. It was …show more content…
Jenny answered the door to find a tall, middle-aged man standing there in a brown plaid shirt and khaki slacks, all with very neat creases, and a pair of nerdy spectacles with thick, black plastic frames. He could have been a character on the Bob Newhart show. He was holding a toolbox. ////// Skipping ahead...this part's not wicked enough yet.../////// It was mid-morning on the prairie, and majestic, billowing white clouds sailed majestically across the vast, blue sky, brilliant in the sun, casting shadows on the great sea of cornfields stretching flatly from horizon to horizon. Down a narrow ribbon of asphalt that was state highway 8 drove the always patient Dennis Didilier in his Mikado yellow 1948 Sedan-Delivery. On the dash lay a size 6 women's running shoe, untied, its laces loosened, and, of course, completely empty. The little footsie that had been in that women's running shoe was trying hard to hide behind its still-shod sister footsie, where the two of them were bound with leather cuffs to the sturdy, frame-mounted post underneath Dennis's armrest. The cute little college teen to which these particular footsies were attached was, of course, the adorable little Ms. Jenny Bryce, …show more content…
A tautly-drawn black mat suspended from the walls of the van by a series of strong springs, the bondage-trampoline formed a false floor about 20 inches above the actual cargo floor below. From above, Jenny looked like a cute letter-t, what with her arms drawn out left and right and her ankles together beneath the armrest. Jenny could see all of this because above her on the headliner of the Sedan-Delivery was a mirror, and in the mirror, Jenny could watch herself squirm and bounce....did I mention that our cute little Jenny was
O’Connor himself wasn’t partially physically intimidating. This fact became abundantly clear once he stepped off his chair and approached me. While not necessarily short in stature, his seat gave him an extra few inches compared to his natural stance.
Minnie Foster was once described as the belle of the ball. To look at her tonight for the first time you could see why. She carried herself with both an air of confidence and modesty at the same time. Her small eyes dominated her face. They did not look directly at you anymore though. Still, they seemed all knowing and experienced as if they were able to see and know secrets about you that you wish no one knew. Her slender peaked nose was no match for the full lips she had, lips that never uttered a sound and which have become as pale as her knuckles. Her lips were pierced shut protecting the thoughts in her head from falling out one by one to the hard flooring.
In the short story titled, “Suzy and Leah” by Jane Yolen, which takes place in the United States, It talks about two girls who meet each other through school and start off having a very complex relationship. In this piece you will hear about Suzy’s side of the story and how she felt about Leah and how their relationship changed and evolved. The first time Suzy saw Leah was a place that she had heard from the newspaper, and she decided to drop off some food. She noticed Leah in particular because she was the only one who didn’t swarm around her to get food. The first thing Leah noticed about the girl was that she had a false smile.
The protagonist, Jim, was engulfed with lust for Alena, and decided to do whatever it took to be with her, even if it meant changing himself to fit a mold of what he felt he needed to be to have her. This lust becomes apparent as the author introduced a simile to express the lustful feeling Jim had for Alena as he stated, “I was moved by the emotion she’d called up, I was moved even more by the sight of her bending over the box in her Gore-Tex bikini; I clung to the edge of the chair as if it were a plunging roller coaster.” (583) The choice of this expression is noted to express the rush Jim felt as he stared at Alena’s barely dressed figure bending and searching for documents. This choice of words captured that thrilling, but terrifying adrenaline filled feeling of falling to my doom that I have when I’m on a rollercoaster; In the context of this story I took it to represent that Jim was overcame with some of those same feelings and as he sexualized Alena’s body. This, was also seen in the narrator expression of Jim’s thoughts as he stated, “She smiled. On your own wavelength: the words illuminated me, excited me, sent up a tremor I could feel all the way down in the deepest nodes of my reproductive tract.” (584) This choice of diction shows that Alena’s comment along with the sight of her smiling at Jim further excited him in a sexual
The patient was more beautiful than she realized. If only she could see it for herself. The color from her dainty face had drained to a sickened green tint and her eyes widened in fear. The walls of the clinic exam room were ordained in calming colors, but offered the young woman no comfort. She continued to blink rapidly as if she would awaken from the nightmare; her long eyelashes could not fan the health worker’s words away. She thought it was harmless, just a night of fun. It made her feel valuable and attractive. Yet being desired now left her alone, crumpling to the floor screaming between sobs and desperately reaching to the empty air around her. She couldn’t grasp any security. Not only did that harmless night of fun result in her becoming
Lilly Barels never thought she would be a writer. As a UCLA graduate who double majored in Neuroscience and Dance, her relationship with creative writing ended in High School. However, almost fifteen years later, in the midst of a broken marriage and lost in the fog of un-fulfillment, Barels discovered the creative channel that would transform her from a high school physics teacher to a soon-to-be published writer. After a passionate and healing love affair with poetry, she was accepted into the MFA program at Antioch Los Angeles. In 2012, Barels received her Masters in Creative Writing with a focus in fiction. Barels just finished her second novel, and she is a regular contributor to Huffington Post.
Every day she came dressed for school in brilliant colored leggings partially covered by a relaxed sweatshirt unevenly rolled at the sleeves. Her plump belly took shape under her shirts, creasing slightly, like a curtain conforming to its width. Her feet plowed into her white Keds and snuggled inside fluorescent socks scrunched at the ankle. Mary Beth’s Keds curved toward each other as she stepped, and it was evident she was pigeon-toed. (This was another characteristic we loved to imitate.) I saw her ferociously sprint during gym and on our Field Day. It was dreadful. Her leg stampeded into each other in an effort to run straight. Her arms flung back and forth anxiously like an ape’s, and I could see her tongue sticking out of her crooked mouth in determination. She was hopeless.
I was sitting with my friend, Pistol on one of the bucking shoots watching the barrel race.
The first time Jenny made a home visit to Mr. Collett, he offered her a glass of tea that had dirt and debris floating in it. Jenny returned that night to drink some wine and eat some crackers with Mr. Collett and when Jenny went to pour the wine for the two of them she found an invitation for a veteran reunion. Jenny asked Mr. Collett if he was planning on attending the reunion and was shocked by his answer, no. Although Jenny still had a feeling of disgust due to Mr. Collett’s living condition she volunteered to take him to the veteran reunion and from that day on she grew very fond of Mr. Collett. When Mr. Collett had to move out of his flat Jenny continued to visit him in his new home and she visited him when he was in the hospital for a double amputation of his legs where he died as well. In these two particular situations, with Pearl and Joe, Jenny experienced conditions she did not even know existed. Since she had never experienced these conditions she at first showed the patients the shock and horror on her face and this offended the two patients. The people during this time period expected the nurses to be very polite, caring, selfless, willing and nonjudgmental. With Peal, Jenny earned her trust and satisfaction by providing her with the Epsom salt and calling her a heroine which changed her mind about the nurse. Mr. Collett was first shocked by the
The "sweetheart" of the story is a young, American girl whose description identifies her as the stereotypical girl of the late 60's early 70's. "A tall, big-boned blonde,/long legs and blue eyes and a complexion like strawberry ice cream. Very friendly, too."(p. 93). However, this apparently attractive appearance and sweet, innocent demeanor would change over the next few weeks.
"Umm… I'll stay in Journalism, thanks." "Ok, you're all set up. Your class is 9A, straight ahead, turn left, second room on the right. Have a great first day." When I entered the classroom, I was welcomed by five rows of confused students staring at me blankly as if I was a test where they had all flunked.
Ow. My head hurts. It has been lying against this wall for at least an hour now. I scratched the back of my head to move around my dark, curly hair. It was beginning to feel plastered against my scalp. It was a bit tangled from not brushing it for a day and my fingers did not run through it with ease; nevertheless, it felt good to keep the blood flowing. I was lying on a thin, light blue mat on the floor. My head was propped up against the cold wall as if it were a concrete pillow. My chin dug into my chest and I could feel the soft, warm material from my sleeveless sweater cushioning my jaw. I looked down. I could see the ends of my hair cascading over my shoulders. The red highlights matched quite nicely with my maroon sweater. My arms were folded over my belly and they appeared more pale than usual. My knees were bent, shooting upward like two cliffs. My baggy blue jeans covered the backs of my fake brown leather shoes. ("Christy, let me borrow your pants, the baggy ones with the big pockets. I can hide more stuff in those.")