“I — I lost my job today,” Elizabeth said, her voice shaking. At any moment, she was sure she was going to burst into tears.

“You did what?” Jessica screeched. “Do you know what this is going to do to my bikini line? Not to mention my career?”

“You’ll just have to work harder, Jess,” Elizabeth said quietly. She looked up at her sister, whose face was contorted in rage. “You know, help out a little bit around here.”

“You want help? Here you go,” Jessica said dismissively, reaching into her purse and pulling out a fat roll of cash. She threw it toward her twin.

“What’s this?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide as she unfurled the roll and started counting the money. “Jessica, these are all one-dollar bills.” Gemini to the main stage

“Even so,” Lila said, wrinkling her nose, “you wouldn’t catch me doing something as pathetic as taking charity from someone like that.” She gave Marshall a cute little wave from across the pool. “Hi, sweetie!”

Marshall grunted and stared at a spot somewhere above Lila’s head.

“Doesn’t Marshall have some, like, children or grandchildren? You know, a rich, hot heir to the Stanton fortune…” Jessica’s voice trailed off dreamily.

Lila snorted. “Yeah, right. You think they’d let you anywhere near their bank account?”

“Why not? I have blue-green eyes the color of the Pacific ocean, a tiny dimple in my left cheek when I smile, a perfect size-six figure, and I’m a fucking Wakefield twin,” Jessica said, listing all of her best attributes. Winston gets all hip

Post-coital Tristesse

by saucytemptress

One
Sweet Valley

Elizabeth Wakefield packed the last of the belongings from her desk — a framed photo of her family, her well-worn journal, a lone yellow barrette — and took one last look at the newsroom that had, for the past five years, been her home.

Penny Ayala had broken the news to Elizabeth just that morning. With her typical no-nonsense, ball-busting attitude, the editor had called Elizabeth into her office.

“We’re going to an online-only publication,” Penny had said, barely looking up from her computer screen.

Elizabeth’s brow had furrowed in concentration. Ever the seasoned reporter, she’d taken the small, spiral-bound notebook she kept nestled in between her breasts in case of breaking news and started to write down everything Penny was saying. Wakefield twin TMI ahead

Less than a week to go before Four Minutes Older is back and taking on Sweet Valley Confidential. If you haven’t already checked out the scandalous first chapter that details Liz’s sexual hangups and love of Beyonce, head over to www.sweetvalleytenyearslater.com.

Also, I am proud to have been the catalyst for someone’s wet dream about Bruce Patman.

So, was anyone else underwhelmed with the preview of “Sweet Valley Confidential”? I mean, it’s nice to know that Elizabeth cries when she comes and all, but a Sweet Valley without a date-rapist Bruce Patman is a Sweet Valley I don’t want any part of.

I’m gearing up to tackle “Sweet Valley Confidential” Four Minutes Older style. Join me for day-shift hooker Jessica, gold-diggin’ Lila and a Bruce who still has the balls to attempt date rape!

Full text of this year’s NaNo, “Prom Baby!” after the jump. If you are looking for the 2007 NaNo, “Double Penetration,” click here. NSFW – or any occasion, really

Made it to 50K with time to spare! Thanks for reading (and keeping me accountable for crossing the finish line)!

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but here’s an easier way to read my NaNo ’07 novel, “Double Penetration,” without the navigation/formatting issues presented by blogging. Click here to read the whole story

   “Look, if there’s something specific that you have to tell me about him, go ahead. Otherwise, shut up.”

“He’s arrogant and self-centered. He’ll hurt you.” (SVH #3, Playing With Fire, p. 35)

Jessica looked away, avoiding her twin’s penetrating gaze. The truth was that Bruce had already hurt her. Elizabeth, observant as she was (being a real reporter and all), had failed to notice that the bruises Jessica had been coming home with weren’t the result of a Lila-orchestrated fall from a cheerleading pyramid. No, they were the result of Bruce Patman’s anger, a terrifying force Jessica had first witnessed when she’d made fun of the Patman family fortune.

“Honestly, Bruce,” she’d laughed while they were headed to the beach in his Porsche, “who even buys Patman’s Peaches?”

“Everyone buys Patman’s Peaches,” Bruce growled in defense of his father’s successful canning business.

“Well, I don’t,” Jessica said. Of course, that’s because I don’t eat, she thought, sneaking a glance at herself in the side mirror. As usual, she looked perfect.

“What do you buy, the store brand?” Bruce asked, snorting in disgust.

“No!” Jessica gasped, horrifed. “We’re not, like, poor, you know.”

“You’re poor to me,” Bruce said, raising his voice in anger. “Patman’s Peaches bought the Porsche you’re sitting in right now, and Patman’s Peaches bought you that broke-ass weave, and Patman’s Peaches bought you the thong you seem to enjoy showing off to everyone in Sweet Valley when you cheer at the football games!”

And with that, Bruce slapped Jessica across the face.

    “Have you heard the news about Ronnie and Enid?” Cara whispered, catching sight of Ronnie standing over by the fireplace. Gossip was gossip, as far as she was concerned. It didn’t much matter who the target was. (SVH #2, Secrets, p. 55)

Lila sniffed. “You mean that they broke up because she and some dumb boyfriend she used to have ran over some kid when they were high and didn’t even kill him?”

“You know what else I heard?” Jessica asked, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“What?” Cara asked, excited to grab any piece of information she could get on the situation.

“Enid used to sell her body to support her habit!” Jessica declared dramatically.

Lila recoiled in horror. “What?” she screeched. “Who would pay to get with that?”

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Anyway, Lila, you, of all people, should understand.”

“Please,” Lila said, sticking her nose in the air. “You know I don’t just indiscriminately give hand jobs in dark alleys for smack. I’m strictly a high-class call girl.”