"Not by me," Rannath responded."Rannath, he is a thing of the dark," Malak replied disgustedly. "How can you reconcile that?" I don't, and neither sho...ld you," Rannath accused. "He is not solely of the dark, and he is mine. He saved my cleric, and risked his life in the bargain." You sound as if you love him," Malak remarked. "You know that is forbidden." I do not love him that way. He is mortal," Rannath responded. "Now please leave me be." And she left."I don't think either of those two. ACROSS HIS GIRLY BEDHe looks sexy,Shirtless in bed,With his hairy legsExposed, a teddy bearHeld against his breastsAnd dolls on either sideOf his feminine hips,Wet and bloody,As if from birth,A tear upon his cheek,With nothing left to loseBut the semen smearedAcross his girly bed.BECAUSEI like him becauseHe wears eye shadowAnd mascara;I like him becauseHe wears lipstick and blush;I like him becauseHe has full, round breastsAnd wears a brassiereBeneath his frilly blouse;I like him becauseHe has. I lived with my mother and brother in the house I was born in, along the tree lined streets of Mayfield, Connecticut. Mayfield was a typical New England town, old and rich in history, but also left behind in many ways. The War had taken most of its men; some had returned, ... others not.One of those who would never come back was my father, killed in the Pacific, September 1st, 1945; one day before VJ Day. It would be nice to say that I had many fond memories of him, remembrances of my early. I washed my hair, then my body, and shut the water off. I was relaxed from the heat of the water and I stood in place only for a moment before I reached up to open the shower curtain. The fabric, fixed by metal rings, slid across the curtain rod with that loud, sudden clatter that all shower curtains make. In habitual movement, I ran my hands over my face to push the water back with my short hair. It was quite a refreshing shower to say the least.As I reached up to pull the towel of the ringed.