Teri just had to get away from it all. She had just buried her husband a little over three months ago, and everything around her reminded her of him. After thirty seven years of marriage to such a wonderful man, it was hard to get up in the morning and face the day. Teri’s two grown daughters were getting worried about their mother’s state of mind, and finally insisted that she get away for a few days, just to kind of relax and let her batteries recharge. She didn’t want to go somewhere that she and Tom had visited, so it was decided that she would spend a week in New York City and take in a few shows, and see all the sights. They’d talked about doing it for years, but never got around to it, so Teri’s daughters figured that this would be the perfect time. Teri wouldn’t have given their little plan a chance in hell of working, but much to her delight, she was actually having a good time. Cats and Les Miz were more fantastic than she had ever imagined they’d be, the Guggenheim had more stunning art in one place than was imaginable, and the food, well it was just magnificent. New York had turned out being the tonic that made her see that it was possible to have a life after Tom, in fact, she was planning on making Manhattan a yearly destination. In a city the size of New York, especially when you’re a total stranger, you don’t expect to meet someone out of your past, but for Teri, her life was about to take twist that was completely unexpected, and that moment came at the check out line at Bloomingdale’s department store. While she was paying for a new pair of leather gloves for her younger daughter, she noticed a very attractive woman staring at her from across the room. She tried to ignore her, but the woman was being so obvious, that the sales lady even commented that she thought her “friend “ was trying to get her attention. Teri paid for her purchase and quickly made her way to the front door where she felt a hand on her arm and the question, “Teri, is that you?” She spun around, not sure how to react, but in an instant recognized the face from over forty years ago in college, “Victoria?” she asked.

Maureen O’Connell strolled leisurely down the pier, taking in all the sights and sounds that surrounded the departure of a luxury cruise ship. A native New Yorker, Mo had spent the last several days cruising South Beach and enjoying the Miami sun, and boy, this was living, the middle of February and the temperature had been hovering in the mid 70’s. As Mo walked past her, the Molly Dee gleamed sparkling white against the azure blue Florida sky, all 790 feet of her. The brochure that her travel agent had given her didn’t do the big liner justice, she looked absolutely fantastic. Mo had been planning this trip for over a year, and now that it was here, she could hardly believe it. Lugging her suitcase on board, Mo was met by a the purser, a pretty young woman, who looked at her ticket, handed her a detailed map of the ship, and informed her where her cabin was located. “Two flights up,” Mo mumbled out loud, while she rode the elevator to the promenade deck. Walking down a long corridor, she stopped at cabin 328 and tried her key, the tumblers moved smoothly, and in another second she was in her room. She was supposed to have a berth partner, but it looked like no one else had been in the room, so Mo selected the bed that stood under the porthole. She was gazing through the window when the door opened and a vivacious woman of about thirty breezed into the cabin. “Hi,” the woman said, while dumping her luggage on the other bed, “my name’s Veronica Stuart, but everyone calls me Ronnie!” Mo, extending her hand, introduced herself, and asked Ronnie if she cared about which bed wanted. “Nah, either one’s fine with me, by the way,” she went on, “did you get a load of the purser, what a knock out!” Mo nodded her head and added, “From what I’ve seen so far, all of the crew, including the captain are women, there won’t be a single male on board for the whole cruise!” “Alright,” said an enthused Ronnie, “a whole boat full of lezzies, I can hardly wait.”

Kathy stood by the front door of Cox Shoe Store waiting for the last few customers of the day leave. It was almost five o’clock and she had a lot to do before Mark picked her up to go to the movies. As luck would have, however, at five to five another customer walked through the door. Kathy groaned to herself, “Why me?” She looked to see if either of the other salesgirls were free, but no such luck, they were both still showing shoes to the two ladies still seated in the try on chairs. Kathy moved towards the fiftyish lady who was by now looking at a display of high healed evening shoes and asked, “May I help you ma’am?” “Yes,” she replied, “I’m looking for a pair of black patent leather pumps, something like these, maybe.” The lady was holding a popular black pump with three and one half inch heals. Kathy directed the woman to sit down so she could measure her foot.

Rachel was bone tired as she lay in the hot bath she had just drawn. Her whole body ached from the pounding it had taken during this afternoon’s practice. Rachel was a starting forward on a women’s professional basketball team out of Chicago, and Coach Jim Danvers had worked them to death after last night’s embarrassing home loss to Detroit. He had a right be upset; they really had stunk.

Steffi Lange sweep into her office with a grim look on her face, and her executive assistant, Shelly Engel, rolled her eyes and thought to herself, ‘Oh shit, it’s gonna be one of those days!” Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, she knocked on Steffi’s door and entered he boss’s office. “Here’s your coffee and the Journal,” she said, placing them on the desk in front of the blond executive.“Men are such pigs,” spat Steffi. “What happened?” asked Shelly, as she took a chair across from the large desk in front of her boss. “When I was walking from the train I think everyman on the street must have looked at my chest! It just makes me sick,” said an irate Steffi. Now Steffi Lange was a very good looking woman with mane of blond hair and long slim legs, she is just naturally going to command attention from the opposite sex. What really makes them sit up and take notice, however, is her more than ample chest. An easy 38D, she is every man’s wet dream. Her unusually large nipples seem to be constantly erect, and it seems that now matter how heavy a bra or blouse, they poke through the fabric and seem to say to the world, “Here I am, look at me!” And that, is exactly what happens. This morning for example, at least twice one man poked another in the ribs just to point out her obvious assets. In the winter at least she could cover up with a heavy coat, but in this heat, even a light jacket felt oppressive.

Lisa Rivers couldn’t believe she was finally here - Castro Street! Being gay and from a small town in Kentucky, you could feel mighty lonely, but here in San Francisco, the mecca for gays and lesbians, being queer was almost a badge of honor. Just walking down the street and seeing men arm in arm, and women openly kissing, well it did her heart good. After only ten minutes, she knew that she felt at home.

Gwen anxiously climbed the stairs to the apartment she shared with her room mate, Anna,who had promised her a big surprise when she got home from work. All day she had been wondering what it would be, and it had been driving her crazy. Fumbling with her key, she heard Anna yell from inside the apartment, “It’s open!” Gwen hurried inside, eager to find what Anna had in store for her. Her elation suddenly turned to jealousy when she saw the “surprise” Anna had waiting for her. Sitting on the couch next to Anna was a beautiful slim young blond who looked like she stepped right off the cover of Vogue. “What’s going on here?” asked Gwen. “This is Krista,” answered Anna, “she’s going to be staying with us for a while.” “No,” shouted Gwen, “I won’t have her in our house.” Anna stood up and gave Gwen a back handed slap across the face and spat, “You listen to me you little cunt, if I want to bring in some fresh meat I’ll do it, and if I tell you to eat, by god you will or your cute little ass will be one dark shade of red!” Giving her another shot to the face just for good measure, Anna snarled, “Am I making myself clear?” “Y-y-yes, Anna,” a now very contrite Gwen answered. “Good,” said Anna, “fix us all a drink, Gwen.” Without saying a word Gwen went to the bar and mixed highballs for all three of them.

Mary was depressed. No job, and nothing in sight. She was getting desperate. As she scanned the want ads for the 23rd time her eye caught sight of an ad she must have missed. It read, “Older, widowed lady needs live in female for general household duties and companionship. Will pay top dollar to the right person. Start right away. Call Mrs. Bradford at 555-1534.” Mary reread the ad several times trying to decide if she even wanted to get into domestic work. As hard up as she was, the words “top dollar” made her pick up the phone and dial the listed number. A minute later she had an appointment to meet Mrs. Bradford tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 o’clock. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but Mary really needed to get something going, and how hard could domestic work be?

At exactly three p.m. Mary was knocking on the big front door at the address Mrs. Bradford had given her over the phone the day before. The house was huge -- almost a mansion. This might turn out to be more work than she had bargained for. Just then the door swung open and Mary was introducing herself to Mrs. Bradford and her friend Cora Hilliard. Both women looked to be in their early sixties, but Mary was never very good at guessing peoples ages. Mary sat down in an over stuffed easy chair in the dimly lit parlor while the two ladies sat opposite her on a long sofa. After giving her vital information -- age, education, work history, etc., Zoe Bradford explained what her duties would be if she took the job. In addition to general cleaning, she would be required to make the meals, grocery shop, and generally run the basic household on a day to day basis. Most of her evenings would be free and she would have Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday off. Of course her room and board would be free and she would pretty much have the run of the house.

Robin was lost in thought as she rode the Clark St. bus on her way to her job as a junior trader at the Board of Trade in downtown Chicago. Having only graduated from the U of I three months ago, she felt very lucky indeed to have landed such a good job in such a short period of time. If she kept her nose to the grindstone and worked hard, Robin was sure that not only would this job provide the mental challenge she needed, but also the kind of money most folks only dreamed of. As the bus swayed to and fro as it passed over the Chicago River bridge, Robin thought that the only real problem she had since moving to The Big Windy was the lack of any real social life. By now she had hoped to have made some close friends, but it just hadn’t worked out that way with the workload she was carrying.

It’s 1941 London, England. The Nazis are using their superior air power to try and bring Winston Churchill and the people of England to there knees. The only thing standing between Hitler and the total conquest of England, and the rest of Europe for that matter, was a relatively small contingent of fliers known as the RAF. Flying their Spitfire fighters against the powerful German Lufewaffe, the brave English pilots prevented the invasion of their island nation, but could not halt the massive destruction caused by the London Blitz. It was during these bombings of London that a little known phenomena presented itself. It was discovered that for many women, the feeling of terror and the shaking and thundering of the Nazi armament caused many women to experience intense sexual gratification. As the bombings intensified, the excitement increased proportionately. Monica Stonebridge was one of those women. Still a spinster at thirty eight, Monica didn’t hold out much hope that she would ever marry. It wasn’t that she was unattractive or dull, it was more that the few beaux that did have just didn’t quite work out. A rather buxom blond with an earthy sense of humor, Monica had a hot sexual streak in her, that usually required a daily bit of masturbation to take off the “edge” as she liked to say. With most of the eligible men enlisted to fight the war, it was almost impossible to get a date, let alone start a meaningful relationship. For these reasons, Monica was more less resigned to self gratification.