The 5 words are:

1. accent
2. juvenile
3. loops
4. mantra
5. naked

The stories:

• She came to me naked, as she would in my dreams

• As she walked in, I could tell by her strong accent

• With a juvenile accent the naked yogi chants

• Valkyrie
  

  She came to me naked, as she would in my dreams (hey, they're my dreams). Try being juvenile in a room full of gorgeous women, each with a perfect accent. You don't know which way to look first, you don't know what to do with that throbbing feeling in your groin. And these are polite women, who understand the torment in your loins. Still, she had me going in loops trying to figure out what it was she really wanted. But that is their priviledge again. You try to figure out what a woman wants. Does she want you to mention her freshly done hair (or is she so ashamed of it she doesn't want you to mention it at all - you'll never know until it's too late). Is she trying to draw attention to her boob-job or were they always that big ? Does she really want that dress in the window and you to get it for her ? And why cover up those lush forms in the first place ? Because you like green ? It could be a mantra. I have a thing for green.

  Although, come to think of it, I'd much rather prefer her in nothing more than blue nail polish. You know it's only vanity then, but she knows you know and if you are lucky, she might just kiss you.
  (Ignace)

  Back to the TOP!

  As she walked in, I could tell by her strong accent that she was obviously French. Though she was juvenile I could tell she had a lot of experience at doing what she did best - table top football. I took her hand in mine and asked her for the honour. She set up the minature model stadium, and as she placed the players on the smooth plastic pitch, she caressed each one. After 2 minutes she was already running loops round me. It was useless. I'd have to use - my mantra. I opened my spiritual book of tabletop football (it's a funny old game by gary lineker) and read the magic words from my special page marked by an encrusted cheese sandwich. I closed my eyes, and chanted the words, 'My god I'm blind'. Then, i suddenly found myself unable to open them, all I could see was Margaret Thatcher naked. My worst nightmare had come true...
  (Aidan)

  Back to the TOP!

  With a juvenile accent the naked yogi chants his mantra, "Sexual loops mean Zen".
  (Mike)

  Back to the TOP!

  With a twist of the key in the lock, the steel door creaked open. Stygian darkness provided an accent, which sent a shiver of delicious delight up her spine. She held the door open and pulled her gray-wheeled case through the door and the sound of the closing door echoed. She relocked the door behind her, veered to the right and took the six careful steps stopping just before an unseen wall, as she had so many times before. A touch on the wall brought forth a faint light to enable her to type in the code to disable the alarm system. Then she flipped the light switch beside the panel to on. She had mistakenly flipped the light switch on before deactivating the alarm system once before- and only once. She shuddered at the memory of the results.

  A couple widely spaced lights provided weak illumination along the route to the ice rinks control booth. She left her case outside of the control booth. Bounding inside, a touch on another switch turned the booth's lights on. A couple more switches and two widely spaced banks of lights over the ice began their warm up glow.

  She scanned the racked CD's and selected "Flight of the Bumble Bee", her mantra, sliding it into the player and setting the volume to low. She exited the booth, wheeling her case to a seat by the entrance to the ice. The music rose in time to the lights brightening. Shrugging off her coat, she let it collapse into a heap on the bench. She kicked off her boots and opened her case. It was the work of scant minutes to lace her skates as her mind floated free with the music. Standing, she glided onto the ice-a figure clad in an ocean green costume, waist length midnight hair streaming behind as she ghosted around the oval doing occasional loops, arms spread with joy.

  Muscles warm and glowing, she returned to the control booth and turned up the volume a little to help her practice her creative routine, which was in the juvenile stages of development. Pausing at the edge of the ice, she looked around and smiled. Sitting at the bench she unlaced her skates and removed them. Her costume followed, to be gently folded and placed on the bench. Naked, she sat on the cold metal while she laced her skates. Shivers of ecstasy ensued and a bit of devilishness struck her. Her tanned body was one with the ice as she flowed through the routine she was working on. Lost in the glow, she made changes in the routine as she flew on the steel wings. Steel, ice and skin. The Valkyrie smiled in triumph as her flight continued.
  (Stoney)

  Back to the TOP!

  To see past months' stories, click here.