Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Lez Girls

BTW, thanks for trying to recruit participants in the now-Undead Valentine's story contest, Indie. But Brittney really is much too intimidating. People are scared of her wrathfulness. And maybe I am too, just a little. Or it might be the spookiness of the tall spectral blond dude standing behind me--that's my co-author and he's just a tad bit ghostly, after all.
And now, without further adoo-doo, here is the story in all its glory!

"Ooh La La!" cried Pierre. "Les girls!"
He pulled his car over to the side of the road and beckoned for the two lovely lasses to come ride with him. He slicked back his hair and twirled his mustache, stroked his neat Van Dyke beard, and set his cap at a rakish angle.
"Where are you going, mon cheres a deux?" the randy Frenchman inquired, visions of menage a trois dancing in his head.
"To the Lesbian Power Convention, good sir," said the dark haired girl. "I'm Zoe and this is my wife Felicia. Thanks for offering us a ride. It's nice to meet people who are supportive of gay rights."
"Well, I was more right than I could have imagined," Pierre muttered to himself. "They are indeed Lez Girls."

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