You don’t regret the things you do, only the things you neglect to do and probably should have done. I believe we grow from new experiences, new sensations, and came to understand during my last weeks at university that nothing is ever how it seems. Perhaps life would be too dull if it were. The exams were over. Everyone was relieved and terrified. It feels as you wait for your
A biography of Chloe Thurlow Part III by Elizabeth Woodham Sin takes many forms and Chloe has indulged most of them. Her lovers have been eclectic and interesting. I hope Tom holds her interest. I worry that her quest for respectability will lead to heartache – for him, at least, and maybe even her. And yet, when they come to dinner, they glow, wearing a mantel of impatience to leave,
A biography of Chloe Thurlow Part II by Elizabeth Woodham Chloe’s education began at an early age at the Kent convent where the nuns instructed all subjects and excelled in carnality. During term-time, Chloe practised her skills in seduction on the wimpled ladies and, during the holidays, she tried her newly awakened self on the various men her mother employed in the house and grounds of their Kent home. How
Unreliable Memoirs a biography of Chloe Thurlow Part I by Elizabeth Woodham She is a work of art – a work in progress – a wonder to behold. Chloe has a secret life. She conceals as much as she reveals in her novels and short stories. Is she Bella in The Secret Life of Girls?
Fleur didn’t even know what butterfly girls were. Fleur didn’t know she was a butterfly girl. In fact, when Fleur woke up she didn’t know where she was or how she got there. Rose was at her side, sleeping still, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She was naked. Fleur looked down and saw that she was naked, too. Where are our clothes, she wondered? But the
I will be running naked in a mask, she thought. This was thrilling and terrifying. Incredible. It was what she wanted. They drove through the damp streets with the sun falling behind the tall anonymous buildings on the edge of the city. The mask was the head of a gazelle. She wore the usual choker at her throat, straps at her wrists. The mask fitted so perfectly to her scalp it was