Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Regina and the Nice Guy (Fragment)

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It was a particularly beautiful summer when they met, one filled with sweet poetry of hope and unrequited dreams, when the remains of old loves become the seeds of new ones and the magic of a sunset can make everything seem possible… even for a beautiful, intelligent and independent young woman like Regina to fall in love with a Nice Guy like him. Tall, with deep, dreaming blue eyes and a kind smile, elegant in his middle management suit, he couldn’t resist consoling Regina right after she presented her resignation two days into the trial period for a new job. Who could have resisted those beautiful doe eyes of hers, mystified by tears of despair she was trying so hard to stop from rolling down her pale, silky cheeks?

[…]

True to form, Regina promptly fell in love – so she said – with her new leading man, not one week after proclaiming her undying affection for Bad Boy, who so carelessly and unjustly shattered her dreams of a happily ever after. Yes, Nice Guy is the way to go, the key to open the door to that much sought after realm of marriage. He is that reliable shoulder a real woman like her needs to cry on, he is the sweet puppy she thinks she wanted as a child, forgetting for a moment how much she really hates dogs and how these loving, loyal creatures cannot stand the sight of her either.

[…]

In a matter of minutes, Regina glues back together all her shattered dreams involving Bad. Nice Guy may be nice, but does that make him right as well? After all, he seems stuck in a dead end job, he has no money and no ambitions, he might very possibly be the most boring man alive and sex with him is… let’s just say it, a yawn. Honestly, the dullest date or sexual endeavour with Bad Boy are far more interesting than the best moments with Nice Guy. Besides, how can she pursue her career as a victim next to him? Anyway, whenever things go wrong with any of those she considers real men, Regina can always go back to Nice Guy. He will always be there, waiting quietly for her return, hoping she would not leave yet again. What better match could there be?

[…]

In his elegant expensive Italian suit, the tall, athletic man is the epitome of calm and self-control, his blue eyes focused on the couple checking into the five star hotel. The woman adjusting the shoulder strap of her designer bag hasn’t seen him yet, and Nice Guy is happy he can chase away that wave of emotion building inside him, that strange vulnerability he hasn’t felt in years. But Regina’s big, bored eyes wonder around the hotel lobby, looking for something entertaining to annihilate her ennui, so when he meets his gaze and inexpressive smile, surprise, hopes and memories jolt her back to a present full of unexpected possibilities. The man accompanying her doesn’t notice the exchanged glances, but the truth is, he hardly ever notices anything besides his reflexion in the mirror.

You can find the full version of “Glass Slippers and Stilettos” on iBooks, Kobo, Barnes&Noble and Smashwords. I hope you enjoy it!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/645454

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/glass-slippers-and-stilettos

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glass-slippers-and-stilettos-ana-linden/1123982690?ean=2940153093093

Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 61

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Their night in the mountain resort was one of innocence lost, but what surprised Amalia was how normal it felt to her. It wasn’t so much a change, but a realisation of how things should be, who she was as a woman and how great it felt to control and lose control at the same time. Insecurity left room to pride and she felt happy, as she realised what an effect she had on the man who was now driving silently.

“What do you think about a repeat of all this in a week or so?”

“I wouldn’t say no, but at a different time.”

“Why? Have you got plans with your boyfriend?”

“No need for sarcasm…”

“I was just saying… Maybe the poor sucker is looking forward to coming back and seeing you and for once you don’t want to disappoint him.”

“You’re the poor sucker, if that’s all you could understand so far. That being said, perhaps we shouldn’t make plans in advance.”

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Glass Slippers an Stilettos – Regina Experiments (Fragment)

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Eeeh! That hurt! The high-pitched moan escaped her lips as soon as the woman in a white uniform removed the first strip of wax. It’ll be worth it! Pain followed by pleasure, it’s always worth it, she had to remind herself. As the wax touched her skin again and again, she felt the need to congratulate herself on the wise decision of taking the day off. She needed a few hours of pampering before the big trip, a reprieve from all the stress, so she could get ready to fully enjoy the weekend’s pleasures. But time was also required to clear her mind and figure out the optimal plan, that perfect balance between delectable debauchery and worthwhile, career-oriented depravity. Experience had taught her men were more open and supportive of her cause in an intimate environment and she was relying on this opportunity to reacquaint herself with an old friend.

[…]

With her professional prospects sorted out, Regina could now focus on everything and everyone else. She knew exactly who she wanted. She had resisted him for so long, they had played such a sensual seduction game from the very beginning, but it was finally time to indulge herself. Sure, he was now pretending not to want her anymore, his tantrums making it impossible for the two of them to work together, but it was exactly this distance that made her understand how much she really wanted him. With every offending word, with each disrespectful gesture, Regina came closer and closer to the belief that he might just be her soul mate. She wasn’t about to let him become the one who got away just because of office politics…

[…]

The man’s voice betrayed feelings deeper and more conflicted than he wanted to admit even to himself. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being naïve or oblivious to human nature. He had heard all the rumours about her, of course he had; but he wanted to believe those big, innocent looking eyes. He wanted to believe that there are women like the one she appeared to be when they first met – gorgeous, intelligent, modest, selfless, loyal and honest. Knowing that he could have such a woman warmed his heart in those dull, cold business hours as well as in those moments of impaired consciousness, when he found delight in the most obscene pleasures his successful existence offered him. If he believed the rumours, that meant she wasn’t such a woman. Then he wouldn’t have had such a woman, he wouldn’t have been a man who could have such a woman. His ego didn’t allow for such a possibility.

You can find the full version of “Glass Slippers and Stilettos” on iBooks, Kobo, Barnes&Noble and Smashwords. I hope you enjoy it!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/645454

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/glass-slippers-and-stilettos

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glass-slippers-and-stilettos-ana-linden/1123982690?ean=2940153093093

A Realist’s Magic

7

“Sorry, I forgot you were born a cynic.”

We both laughed. He wasn’t far from the truth.

With Christmas only a month away and the air getting chillier every day, with seasonal decorations and gift suggestions invading every corner of our lives, some of us find it difficult to chase away a certain feeling of anticipation. That childish giddiness is almost in the air again, and personally, I have to exercise a certain kind of self-control and not succumb to that exaggerate desire of purchasing more and more Christmas decorations I won’t have where to store once the holidays are over.

The slide down memory lane is inevitable when trying to make some sort of holiday plans and my oldest, closest friend and I have our own traditions. First, we do our best to spend some time together in December, preferably over the holidays (that used to be so much easier to accomplish when we were kids…). Then, once that happens, old photos are pulled out and all sorts of memories are rehashed – bitter, sweet and bittersweet ones alike.

He was the child who refused to believe Santa wasn’t real, until he had no choice but to accept that life is harsh and its struggles sometimes have to be faced at an early age. He believed in magic and magic was suddenly taken away, to only be replaced by sadness and disappointment. I, however, never believed in Santa Claus. Christmas was my favourite time of year. I loved and enjoyed every moment of it for several years before it all became too real; yet I never believed in Santa, even if presents mysteriously materialized under the tree every Christmas morning. I couldn’t really explain why, it was a feeling more than anything else. My intuition simply didn’t allow me to believe it, even if in a way, I would have liked him to be real. Later on, the explanation crystalized in a few simple words, which apply to so many other instances of our lives: it was too good to be true. Like my friend said, I must have been born a cynic. It’s probably also true that he was a happier child before he saw the magic die in front of his innocent eyes.

Now we can make light of such memories, the ones about how we found out for sure Santa wasn’t real. Once I had decided to obtain irrefutable proof that the jolly man in red was only a lie, nothing stood in my way. Evidence once found, my plan was to wait until Christmas morning and then tell my mother I already knew what my presents were. But once I proclaimed I knew there was no Santa and I could prove it, I could clearly discern a shadow of sadness and worry on my mother’s face. I needed to prove I was right; but she needed me not to, she needed me to believe in magic. So I said nothing else aside from the usual, “I just know”. After all, I knew what the truth was and that was enough. Sometimes, parents lie to protect their children. And sometimes, children do the same to protect their parents. On that particular Christmas, the magic was all about a mother and a daughter wanting to make each other happy.

I later understood there was a different magic of Christmas in which I actually believed, and that had simply been the first time I had experienced it. It wasn’t about religion, myths, superstition or supernatural beings making dreams come true. Instead, it was about offering myself some moments of childish joy and also about creating a happy instance for somebody dear to me. What can I say, there’s magic and there’s magic… Mine just happens to be of the more realistic, non-idealized, superstition-free kind.

5

In response to WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Magic.

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Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 60

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Images of the sun setting over a vineyard fade away in one’s mind; so do those of the mountain peaks seen from a hotel room. It’s the sensations of some summer nights that cannot be swept away by storms over the years, because they find a special corner in a woman’s mind, sheltered as defining instants and melancholy triggers.

The first time a girl has sex is one of those memories, but it’s often facts, not sensations, it’s often contexts and people that confer it an unalterable place in the girl’s mind. Some women, some special women, choose to also note and treasure a different kind of a first time – the one with that man who has finally taught them what it is and what it feels like to be a woman. Because it takes more than sex and more than just a male for such a moment to come to life for the first time – it takes a real man, one with real character and personality, one with ambition, experience and strength, one with a past and a future. And it also takes a woman able to note and appreciate such qualities, one that can be his equal and can also allow room for him to be himself.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Regina and Selective Memory (Fragment)

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It starts off light, little things here and there, which only make you believe she is simply a more forgetful person than others. An assignment not carried out in time leads way to an almost hysterical reaction as she is blaming everybody for not telling her she was the one supposed to do it. Nobody can possibly imagine she would react that way if indeed she had known and forgotten about it. That is, until the situation becomes a recurrent event… because she does indeed forget, she forgets she was told in the first place, then she forgets having forgotten. Therefore it never happened.

[…]

Regina is not like everybody else, she knows it and she cultivates this idea, mainly to the benefit of her own peace of mind. One of those things that make her so special – aside from her uncanny intelligence, unspeakable beauty and impeccable taste, of course – are her high moral standards. Therefore she makes for one very interesting case study, as all people may lie, but not so many of them have so helpful a subconscious that it literally deletes all unwanted and unacceptable memories.

[…]

Selective memory works in mysterious ways, you suddenly remember while she pouts and accuses you of all sorts of sins, such as betrayal, false friendship and selling her to the enemy. With all those invectives thrown at you in one angry breath, you can barely gather yourself and wonder what the hell you did wrong this time, in order to earn you such a warm welcome.

It all becomes clear when you slowly understand that if some people might forget a name, a date or a place, Regina can forget an entire relationship. Thus you are blamed for all kinds of unfriendly, treacherous behaviour, because she only remembers the first time she dated that particular man. But the second time around – the one which lasted half a year or so and even brought about the possibility of an impending wedding – is lost somewhere in the mists of Regina’s selective memory.

You can find the full version of “Glass Slippers and Stilettos” on iBooks, Kobo, Barnes&Noble and Smashwords. I hope you enjoy it!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/645454

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/glass-slippers-and-stilettos

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glass-slippers-and-stilettos-ana-linden/1123982690?ean=2940153093093

Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 59

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The barrier of polite speech was gone between them and being crude about the realities of their interaction was not meant to be offensive; if anything, it was a term of endearment, a testimony of their intimacy, but also a turn on for him.

“I don’t think I was so exhausting, you didn’t have a problem keeping up with me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was referring to your mis-en-scene. The outfit, your actions, everything was perfect, like a movie moment really. That’s what I hadn’t had since too long to remember: a beautiful woman, who’s not afraid to be perfect, who creates a night like that, who turns screwing into a phantasy… or the phantasy into real sex… I don’t know. You know what I mean.”

“Sure. You like me because I’m not real. Or you think such a thing cannot be real. And I agree with you.”

“So… what do you think? Was I what you expected?”

“Of course,” she muttered, looking away distracted.

Everything and more… so much more. But that’s something to carefully dissect and think over at home.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Unseen Numbers

3

You have 20% sight left in your right eye.

She twirled the fork in the cold pasta once more, still unable or unwilling to taste it. She closed her right eye, giving the plate a suspicious look. She’d been playing that game for a week. The doctor’s words were ringing in her ears, no matter what she did. So she started repeating them once more, not caring that the man sitting across the table, eating his dinner in silence, had heard them time and time again, first from the doctor’s mouth, than from her, doubled by a variety of emotions. Sadness, disbelief, hope, despair, resignation, acceptance… hysteria… he’d witnessed them all. For a moment, she felt relief, as though saying the words out loud made the problem evaporate into thin air.

“You’ll have surgery and everything will be fine again. You’ll see.”

He swallowed his half chewed pasta. There was a faint aftertaste of guilt, he noticed… he’d heard the story so many times, that he’d become immune. He no longer cared about her drama – real or imaginary – but nothing in his actions would betray it. After all, they were married…

20%… It was that number that got to her the most. It was all about the numbers. She hated mathematics, therefore she spent the better part of her life stubbornly trying to disregard the numbers she despised. But they’d always been there, tormenting her, challenging her, making her happy and sad alike, even if she had chosen to look the other way.

But she was too young… wasn’t she? Wasn’t it only old people who needed cataract surgery? She swallowed the tasteless pasta. Apparently not, that’s what the doctor said… either that or she really was old, and she just couldn’t see it. She swallowed her tears along with the pasta.

She looked at all her bookshelves, absentmindedly trying to count all the books she had read and all the ones left to read; and there were so many more that she would never even get to hear about. The numbers were winning once more. Did she only have 20% of her life left as well? The surgery might very well fix her eye – the numbers were in her favour there – but it wouldn’t fix much else. How much was left? And what to do with it?

She closed her right eye again, staring at her left hand. Only half a picture, yet somehow it looked clearer than the full picture. The diamond sparkled as she stretched her fingers and she tried to remember all its numbers – the size, the price, the date she said “yes” to it, to him, the years that had passed. Were they wasted years? Half a picture said “no”; the other half told another story. No eye surgery could help her see her present clearly.

The pasta was blend that evening, yet he wasn’t complaining about it. He always complained when the food wasn’t the way he liked it. Was this good or bad? Was he trying to be understanding and supportive or had he reached that point where he couldn’t be bothered to care enough in order to complain? A 50-50 chance. She knew she often felt she was approaching that point. So potentially 100% for their couple… was that how relationship maths worked?

Her eye moved up to her wrist. The numbers pointed to the fact that it was almost time for him to go out and meet his friends. It was almost time for her to be alone again. The number of minutes in the days in the months in the years they had been married could easily be calculated. But she loathed the result, because she had the feeling she’d been lonely for the better part of them. She also loathed to think whether he was lonely as well.

Perhaps that was why there were no more watches, no more jewellery, no more flowers. As the numbers of their relationship went up, the number of tokens of appreciation decreased, until it reached 0 and stagnated. Or did he think that holding her hand at the eye doctor was a sign of appreciation? Maybe he did… after all, she thought that remembering to buy his favourite socks was a sign of affection. They barely remembered each other’s birthdays or their anniversary these days, but the memories of earlier years were crystal clear. His birthday had come and gone, adding one more uncelebrated year to his number. Her birthday was coming up; so was their anniversary. She didn’t feel guilty for not celebrating his; she would resent him for ignoring hers, theirs… But she would pretend she didn’t care, the way she had for the past several years. How many years was it now? Anyway, she would pretend not to care, she would make light of it… after all, they weren’t children… after all, they were married…

“We should have dinner somewhere nice on our anniversary… or maybe on your birthday. That way, you don’t have to cook…” He pushed aside the half empty plate of pasta and left the table. It was time for after dinner drinks with his friends.

Both her eyes were widely open, silently staring the man in front of her. But she couldn’t get a clear picture. Was it because he hated her cooking? Was he trying to be nice? But if he was, why didn’t he suggest they go away for a few days, just the two of them? Could he no longer stand to be alone with her for a few days? Could she put up with him for a few days, just the two of them alone, all the time? Would this year’s celebration celebrate something? What were the chances for that to happen? Surely they could be calculated. Perhaps she didn’t want a clear picture after all…

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Belated Introduction (Fragment)

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She is friendlier than anybody would have expected a pretty girl to know how to be. She is incredibly hardworking, even when she doesn’t really do anything right. But most importantly, she is so deliciously vulnerable. The one everybody expected to be so smug and conceited is actually so surprisingly modest and demurred, even insecure at times, her big eyes filling with tears when she does something wrong. So nobody can resist helping her, nobody can bring themselves to criticize her, thus risking to cover that delicate doll face of hers with a dark shadow of regret, insecurity and fear. It’s ok, don’t worry, we’ll fix this…. No, no, no, it’s not your fault, you’ll learn, we all make mistakes, especially early on.

Eyes humbly staring at the floor, supported on either side by a benevolent figure, Regina will find her way towards the end of her first week, understanding how everything works and what needs to be done. Not yet having found her path to confidence, she will still strive to do everything right. Incidentally, she does find her way to the hearts of her older colleagues as the perfect daughter they always wanted. She warms up the soul and phantasy of the men in the office as the embodiment of a dream, that of the perfectly sensual, yet proper woman. As for the other girls, not even the ones who don’t look up to her, wishing to emulate her in every way, can bring themselves to dispute her obvious merits and openly antagonize her, because she has already quietly established herself as the innocent face of the office.

[…]

Slowly, but surely she has evolved from doing her job and appreciating everybody else’s help to giving orders, pouting and letting her colleagues carry out her tasks, because she simply doesn’t see why somebody of her calibre should be bothered with such menial things… even though they are part of her job description and she does get paid handsomely for it. Regina has bigger and better things to do, like pout, look pretty and check out all the latest status updates, while she is waiting for everybody else to notice and understand that she is meant to be one of the leaders, not one of the cogs in the system, since she is indeed above all mere mortals. She will not verbalize any of these thoughts just yet, her education is above that after all, and Regina will make do with silently looking down on everybody and occasionally pretend not to notice her co-workers having to do her job.

You can find the full version of “Glass Slippers and Stilettos” on iBooks, Kobo, Barnes&Noble and Smashwords. I hope you enjoy it!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/645454

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/glass-slippers-and-stilettos

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glass-slippers-and-stilettos-ana-linden/1123982690?ean=2940153093093

Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 58

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She did want to get home, but not just because she felt suffocated; she also started to like this, to like him, his company was pleasant and intrusive at the same time, and that was much stronger a reason. Certain complications need to be avoided.

“You were great last night… It was like you were reading my mind.”

“Was I really?”

“Give me a break, false modesty doesn’t become either one of us. You were unbelievable and you know it very well.”

“What can I say, I aim to please… See, I can do cliché as well.”

“You can do lots of things. Is there something you can’t do? I got a hardon only seeing how prepared you were… that sexy outfit of yours, the massage oil… and that stuff with the ice cubes, I didn’t even know I liked that. I haven’t been fucked this way in a long time, you know…”

She flinched at the sound of the word. Why can’t men just call it having sex?

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Regina and Separate Beds (Fragment)

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Alone once more, with nobody to share her tragedy, having to face and accept the separate beds situation, Regina also has to accept taunting memories that refuse to stay selectively lost. Inconsiderate has no knowledge of it, but when initially leaving her for not being appealing enough, he became an influential factor in Regina’s evolution. Non-revealing, somewhat blend, often boring outfits used to be her signature style. That’s how you get a husband, she had been taught; she was also quite sure her mere existence would be reason enough for any man to reach ecstasy. On top of everything else, she had the upper hand, she looked the part of the moral compass she believed herself to be, thus feeling entitled to pass judgement on any other woman.

What really annoyed her at the time, she remembered, was the fact that her style had worked on several men, all enthralled by her innocent beauty and charm. She was particularly fond of one memory… After a pleasant evening together, her date was walking her home. It was a warm summer evening and she was wearing the most unassuming, somewhat outdated dress and pink flip-flops. They had had such a great time together, that she just didn’t want their date to end, so she invited him to stay for coffee. But it was only their second date, so he chose to be a perfect gentleman… yet when he held her tight and gave her a long, passionate goodbye kiss, pressing his body against hers, she could clearly feel how much he desired her. So men had to make an effort to control the wild desire she stirred up in their loins, in spite of those unrevealing outfits she used to wear. However, she failed to remember a few insignificant details… They had to run through torrential rain that beautiful summer evening and by the time they reached her door, the boring dress was nothing but a semi-transparent piece of cloth clinging to the naked body underneath. But such things rarely make a difference when it comes to a man’s desire anyway…

Meeting Inconsiderate was a revelation. He was the first real man she fell in lust with and not only did he fascinate her, but he also made her feel small and simply not good enough. Everything about him exuded power and success, she felt; and she absolutely loved how he only wore designer clothes and accessories… She was equally impressed and intimidated by his disdain for people who found it acceptable to drape their bodies in cheap, ordinary clothes and in case one didn’t manage to catch a clear glimpse of all the labels he was wearing, he would certainly find a way to work it into conversation. Women were occasionally exempt from the designer rule, if and only if the flashy outfits covering their perfect bodies left very little to the imagination and their pretty faces expressed endless awe and admiration for him. Complete with an equally extravagant car he would change at least yearly (because he kept wrecking each and every one of them), the stunning new man in Regina’s life was absolutely irresistible. Anyone saying otherwise was just too jealous to admit it!

You can find the full version of “Glass Slippers and Stilettos” on iBooks, Kobo, Barnes&Noble and Smashwords. I hope you enjoy it!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/645454

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/glass-slippers-and-stilettos

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glass-slippers-and-stilettos-ana-linden/1123982690?ean=2940153093093

Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 57

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“Nice place… You can’t even see this entrance from the main road, how did you find it?”

“I got lost years ago and I took this little country road by mistake, thinking it was the one which was supposed to take me to a hotel I had never stayed at before. Instead I found this place and decided to spend the night here and do some damage to their wine collection. Plus, they’re very friendly at the little inn they have, and the food is great.”

“Of course, the stuff of legends, the universally agreed upon way to find little gems and picturesque places.”

“Sure, go on, mock all you want, but it’s a very nice place, you’ll see.”

She looks absentminded, staring at the vineyard like I’m not even here… Robert couldn’t avoid acknowledging the return to her original distance and cold front. One person last night and another one now. The view of the vineyard surrounding them while having lunch didn’t fail in melting some of her indifference, but she was still restless halfway through her desert, when a small revelation cleared her mind.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Tricks and Treats of Adult Life

2

“… had a feeling… he did … found out by mistake … and now … yesterday … telling you …”

Oh yes! Gloves, gloves, gloves! Those turquois ones… They definitely have the best selection. Gloves, gloves, gloves…

“Do you mind if I have a look?”

“Help yourself! Try on everything you like.”

Next to being left to my own devices in a candy store as a child, what else could be better? Quick, let’s have a thorough look before she changes her mind and becomes a suffocating sales person again.

“And the kids… there’s the kids to consider, after all…”

And the elbow length ones… look at those beauties, they’d go great with my cape. Behave yourself, you have a pair just like them at home! Oh well… perhaps in a different colour… maybe the royal blue pair. Between the intoxicating smell of leather and all the colours and styles, how’s a girl to make up her mind? Decisions, decisions…

“The business too… Don’t you think?”

I confess, I have a weakness for leather gloves. I blame it on my childhood (isn’t that what we always do when it comes to our quirks and foibles?). I’m partial to accessories in general, like most women, but come the cold season, I can’t help thinking I just need to have at least one more pair of leather gloves… or two or three… and perhaps some new boots too… Oh no, one obsession at a time!

Anyway, as I was saying, I’m sure I can blame this one on my childhood. My grandmother used to have this pair of fur trimmed, unimaginably soft leather gloves and I remember I so wanted a pair just like that. When you grow up, she’d tell me, they’re not for children. So I eventually did what any rebellious, stubborn kid would do. If I wasn’t going to have the ones I wanted, then I would not wear any gloves. However, that did not change my grandmother’s mind, so I went a couple of winters without actually wearing gloves, even if I was offered several colourful, girly, woollen choices. (I did occasionally cheat, I had a pair hidden in my schoolbag, just in case of an impromptu snow fight; but I wouldn’t wear them otherwise.) The denouement came as a shocking surprise when my mother eventually noticed my frozen hands and she was told what the reason was. All this drama for nothing, I remember she muttered, angry with my grandmother. Here, you can have mine, I never wear them anyway. With the simplest of gestures, she took a pair of black leather gloves out of her handbag and gave them to me. See if they fit. They did, they fit almost perfectly and they smelled like leather and her perfume. I was finally an adult, I thought to myself, ignoring my grandmother’s angry, disapproving looks.

“He’s been seeing her for over a year. I have no idea what to do now, I mean, I have to make a decision, right? Do I divorce him?”

Something’s wrong with the speakers, a good part of them stopped working and now the woman’s monologue is loud and clear, I can’t miss a word if I tried. She obviously doesn’t care, she keeps pouring her story over her friend or acquaintance, the one she’s holding captive, who looks so embarrassed, so ill at ease.

Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hello… But the words don’t sink in and they don’t grant her an escape. She looks like a trapped animal, ready to make a run for it, wanting to be as far away from that mundane drama unfolding in front of her. To say hello to an acquaintance, maybe a hugely discounted pair of gloves, that’s all she wanted; and now that hand holding her arm in a friendly, yet desperate grip was dragging her into one of those unpleasant situations in which none of us want to find ourselves.

I can’t say I don’t understand her. I don’t want to hear the most private, embarrassingly painful details of a stranger’s marriage. I hate whoever is in charge of the sound system. Now I have to leave, because I feel so uncomfortable listening to all that. In her attempt to escape, the unwilling confident has slowly motioned towards the exit and now the two of them are blocking the small doorway, none of them letting go of the pair of gloves which had been purchased and dearly paid for.

Why should I leave? This was supposed to be my treat. I was looking forward to the leather goods fair. It’s always small family businesses that attend and there are always great deals to be found. I want my damn gloves! I wasted all that time looking for a parking spot and now I should just leave? I’m going to stomp my feet and dive right back into the plethora of colourful gloves, together with the other uncomfortable customers. That’s what I’m going to do. Look how pretty those fuchsia ones are… wait, I already have a pair of fuchsia gloves… I bought them here last year… They always have the best selection, don’t they? All sorts of colours, not just your usual black, brown and beige variety…

Right… two pairs will do, and for the first time I don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary.

“Should I leave him?”

Strangers ask me the most unexpected questions… like that lady at the supermarket, asking me what pickles she should buy – what do I know, I don’t even like pickles? But this one really takes the cake.

I looked up, making eye contact with the woman holding on to the small shopping bag. She isn’t trying to cynically punish me for having unwillingly witnessed her loud confession. She is expecting an answer. A one word answer, not an opinion, not pity or husband bashing. She needs an answer, I can see that.

“No.”

That is the only one word answer she is looking for. I know that. I know it, because much as I tried, I couldn’t help hearing everything. I couldn’t help understanding that – whether she knows it or not – her mind is already made up. All she needs now is somebody to support that decision, somebody she can blame in case it’s the wrong decision. So I’ll give her that.

She lets go of the small shopping bag we’re both holding and she smiles.

“Thank you.”

Maybe it wasn’t my place to answer. Maybe it wasn’t even the right answer. I don’t know. What I do know is that it was what she needed at that point. What I do know is that it wasn’t my place to tell her that I believe almost everybody cheats at some point or another, in some way or another, for some reason or another. It wasn’t my place to tell her that everything she was relating suggested the fact that her husband would most likely leave her before she might even get a chance to verbalise her decision.

I walked away with my nicely wrapped new gloves. There’s more to the life of an adult woman than such delightful treats. We need our armour to protect us from the tricks played on us and from the potential guilt resulting from the tricks we play on others… and on ourselves. And if some soft leather gloves or any other kind of delicious, frivolous accessories can help build and maintain that metaphorical armour, then so be it! If we need to occasionally relinquish responsibility, revert to childhood and blame the world for our misfortune for a moment or two, then so be it!

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Glass Slippers and Stilettos – …Or For Worse (Fragment)

Ana Linden

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The woman in the mirror wasn’t the one she remembered. No matter how hard she struggled, she would never see that reflection again. Time had a perverted way of leaving scars on her body in spite of all her best efforts. Turning slowly, analysing every particle projected in the horridly honest mirror, she felt her spirits lifted by the image of a still beautiful, mature woman. Her thighs were almost cellulite free… and her stomach, almost flat again… her behind was no longer as firm, but the right pair of jeans made it look just as luscious… her breasts had definitely seen better days, but she would do something about that as soon as possible. It was a game of make-believe these days, she thought to herself.

[…]

“Babe… I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight without you… After the day I’ve had… you wouldn’t believe it if I…

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Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 56

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She did want the full experience, she thought; in his turn, Robert not only wanted the same thing, but he was clearly a lot more invested in obtaining it and enjoying it than she was. That might have something to do with one’s age, but the real culprit is most likely the selfishness that makes some people so detached and indifferent to others’ needs, once the body and the ego have obtained the sexual gratification and acknowledgement for which they were initially striving.

“You said your family had a small vineyard when you were a child, right? You’d go and play around, while watching the adults pick grapes and make wine every autumn.”

“I did, yes. And your point is…”

“Then I know where we’re having lunch. It might be too early to fool around and watch how they make the wine, but it’s never too early to take a few bottles home with us.”

The car swerved abruptly to the left on a deserted country road and after a few hundred metres Amalia could see the name of a vineyard carved and painted on an old wooden sign as they were entering the gates.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – For Better… (Fragment)

Ana Linden

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The frantic scrolling stops abruptly as the busy fingers’ and blue eyes’ attention is now required by the buzzing phone. A large smile lights up Regina’s face, a languorous sigh accompanying her reply. She had spent the entire morning trying not to think that the text might never arrive and now her patience was finally being rewarded.

The picture on the desk caught her eye in spite of all her rushed gestures. It had been such a wonderful day! Everything she had ever dreamt of, really… look how beautiful she was, she had the most expensive dress and most extravagant wedding anyone in her group of friends and acquaintances had ever seen… and on top of everything, the man she was marrying was so wealthy and handsome… A real prince had come to finally rescue her from an average existence and she would not let this one get away.

[…]

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Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 55

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The two day trip was as close as you can get to an out of body experience, a step towards something else that resembled readjustment, more than change. The drive back home takes forever when all you want is to finally be by yourself, so you can analyze and categorize all aspects of a new experience. Closeness becomes overbearing, and indulging in another person’s company all of the sudden turns into an ordeal. Sex tends to bring people together, all the barriers or propriety and privacy are expunged and such devouring closeness allows for no personal space. So Amalia was trying hard to accept, perhaps even enjoy the other person’s company, in spite of his growing, suffocating familiarity towards her. She knew he meant well, she knew he was trying to offer her a beautiful day in the mountains before heading home, and she knew that – above everything – he was trying to prolong their little adventure away as much as possible.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Regina and the Engagement Rings (Fragment)

Ana Linden

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The key didn’t turn and she opened the unlocked door without giving it any thought. She often forgot to lock it, so… Clickety-clack, clickety-clack on the hardwood floor and then the high heels flew in a corner, preceded only by the laptop case, which landed with a thud. Oh well, it’s just the work computer – what are they going to do if it breaks anyway, give her a newer and better one?… Her personal mobile phone was another story though, that one found a nice, cosy resting place when carefully placed on the hall table. Curling and stretching her toes happy to have escaped the restrictive pumps, her feet started blindly feeling around the cold floor, reaching for the comfort of those favourite slippers. They weren’t there.

[…]

Her heart was throbbing faster and faster. Could it have been with admiration for that man some would call disturbed, who…

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More Indie Books I’ve Read

Here are two more generous reviews from Carol Balawyder. I am once again flattered to have one of my books featured on her blog, and for that I very grateful. Go ahead, visit this wonderful lady’s blog and discover her insightful writing!🙂

Carol Balawyder

Here are two more books by fellow bloggers that you might enjoy reading.

 

Get  your copy of P.S. I Forgive You today!

Like all of D.G. Kaye’s books, I was eager to read her latest – a follow up to Conflicted Heart.  P.S. I Forgive You –A Broken Legacy  is Kaye’s most heart wrenching and intense book to date. Not surprising, considering the subject of this memoir.  It is D.G. Kaye’s and her siblings’ attempt of freeing themselves from the clutches of emotional neglect.

P.S. I Forgive You –A Broken Legacy is a testimony to the painful effects of her mother’s gambling addiction on her and her siblings. Anyone who has lived with an addict knows how destructive it can be, how much it creates guilt, resentment and a feeling of low self esteem.

P.S. I Forgive You  is heartbreaking to read but D.G. Kaye’s strength and ability to offer an honest examination of her…

View original post 257 more words

Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 54

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Amalia slowly climbed in bed opposite to him, her long legs stretched on top of his, his fingers finally touching her, taking their time, moving gently higher and higher, until their warmth would finally settle on the white flash of her thigh, between the stockings’ line and the lace panties. The lust in their eyes became a comprehensive language, as words were now obsolete. The young woman allowed him to unhook her stockings and remove them slowly, with experienced moves, one by one, followed by the garter belt. Without looking away from her even for a moment, he picked up her shoes, his eyes inquiring, “Can you put them back on?” She smiled and the stiletto heels were again part of her ravishing being, while her right hand finally reached out to open his bathrobe, revealing the perceptible protuberance it was covering. The strong hand was caressing her thighs again, until the other arm suddenly grabbed her small waist, pulling her body close to his. The warm hand finally reached between her thighs, the fingers pushed the panties aside , sending an electric thrill through her entire body, while he was finally kissing her, as she threw her arms around his neck.

“I’ve been dying to do this since the moment you first entered that restaurant, looking down on me, so distant and so cold…”

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂

Husband Or Cat?

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She was quickly becoming a pain in the neck… literally. Holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder while ironing may have not been one of my brightest ideas. But conversations with her were generally long and boring. I needed some other dull task to focus on, so that they wouldn’t feel like a waste of time. After all, that’s what people do, right? They try to keep in touch, they make an effort to communicate and mind each other’s dull nonsense… that is, until you start feeling like throwing your phone out the window.

Apparently she was having a husband bashing night and I just had to be part of it…. Oh well… Sure, I could let her vent and throw in a yes, no or a wow once in a while. I knew the drill, she just needed to tare him apart and contradicting her would only anger the woman even more. But strongly agreeing with her while listing all his flaws without mentioning any redeeming qualities was also a faux pas. After all, she wanted some compassion and empathy, she didn’t want to hear that she had married the wrong person, that the two of them were not compatible, or – horror of horrors – that some of their marital problems might have also been her fault. But once she was done, she generally occasionally able to hear that perhaps he wasn’t all bad, that she might not always be a delight to live with and that all in all, they needed to work together on solving their problems.

Then there were the times when conversations took a twisted, shocking turn…

“I just can’t do it anymore… I have to do everything… he can’t even be trusted to take out the rubbish… you wouldn’t believe for how long he can leave the rubbish bag right there, by the door…”

Oh yes, the “who takes out the rubbish” conundrum… I heard that one before. Whenever she’s mad at him, you’ll always hear about the rubbish.

“I put it next to his shoes and he still claims he didn’t see it, that’s why he didn’t take it out. I swear, next time he’ll find it all over his beloved loafers. I’m not joking, you know. I told him that.”

I had to stifle a few giggles. I know how annoying such small things can be, they get to me too. But for years and years, I keep hearing all about the rubbish drama. She keeps finding amusingly creative ways to point it out and he keeps ignoring it. I wouldn’t be surprised if one morning he found potato peels in his shoes, leftover pasta in his pockets and shrivelled lettuce in his wallet.

“He’s taken it too far… I don’t know how long I can put up with this anymore. I’m all alone all day, taking care of our sick cat and what does he do?… The poor thing isn’t doing better, I’m the only one giving her the treatment and it breaks your heart seeing how she suffers…”

Goody… more cat stories now. I made a face at the phone, while picking up a pillow case from the decreasing laundry pile. I am not a cat person. She always talked about her cat the same way doting mothers talk about their babies. Much as I wanted to be open and understanding, I couldn’t help thinking there were deeper issues behind her behaviour.

“I give the cat her medicine, I try to get her to eat something, I’m the one who stays awake watching her at night…”

Why would she do that in the first place? I was pretty sure the cat wasn’t awake all night… Oh well… moving on to the next pillow case.

“… and he sleeps right through it! Then he’s at work all day, of course. And who has to take care of a sick cat every day? Not him! You know he hasn’t taken one single day off to stay home with her?”

What sane person would?

“And now, do you know where he is now? Well, do you?”

Oh, that wasn’t a rhetorical question… How am I to know?

“No…”

“I’ll tell you where he is. At the hospital, visiting his mother! Every day, after work, he goes straight to the hospital to see her. He has a sick cat at home and he goes to the hospital to see his mother every day!”

Okay… this I was not prepared for… how does one react to something like this?

“Do you know that I had to take the cat to the vet all by myself because he was too busy looking after his mommy?”

I unplugged the iron and sat down, holding the phone with one hand and massaging my neck with the other. I like animals too. I had pets too. But this was too much. This was insane. There was a woman suffering on a hospital bed. Her husband was terrified facing the possibility of losing his mother, and all she cared about was a damn cat with an ear infection.

This was a new low, and it had nothing to do with me not being a cat person or with a man too lazy to take out the rubbish. Nevertheless, I am the one labelled as uncaring and cold-hearted, because I am not moved to tears by the suffering kitty… Well, call me crazy, but I want to desperately hold on to this insane idea that people, especially the ones we choose to have in our lives, should be more important than a pet.

Glass Slippers and Stilettos – Driving Regina (Fragment)

Ana Linden

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Damn it, it’s all his fault… But the person Regina had in mind in her state of shock was not the driver of that other car. Now I won’t get to see him again, not this night… Or will I? An idea occurred to the woman as her trembling fingers were fishing for her work phone in the purse on the seat on her right. Involved in an accident on my way to your place. Need you. Pls. This should get him to come over and see her…

[…]

It doesn’t look like there was anybody else in that car, just the driver… and he seems fine, just terrified, the same way she feels right now. But he’s a man… I can work with that. I can get out of this and keep my driver’s license. And the insurance will pay for that piece of junk of his… Regina’s big…

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Parallel Lives – Sample Fragment 53

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She had been right from the beginning, she had read him well after all.

Such a predictable character when it comes to what he’s hoping to get from me, to what he wants me to be.

So he was a cliché from some points of view; but wasn’t she one as well, with her sexy outfit on, trying to be elegant at the same time?

Certain instances, certain feelings and emotions are classic, not cliché… and so are certain behavioural types, she thought, we repeat timeless actions and we fail to see how new we are to them and how jaded it all is on the outside.

But the subjective novelty is what I want, why I am here… I don’t care about the rest.

And everything disappeared, the only thing that mattered was their desire and the promising climax.

For more sample fragments from Parallel Lives, see: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/396169

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/parallel-lives-ana-linden/1118140770?ean=2940045563567

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/parallel-lives-7

…. and iBooks, of course.🙂