the SLUT is here!

SLUT ... Pure Slush's first print anthology is HERE!

Yes, you can order your very own SLUT and have it purring well in time for Christmas.  What a thrill to find a SLUT under the tree come Christmas morning!

http://pureslush.webs.com/pureslushinprint.htm#794397167

Includes my story "Duplicity"  - slutty in a very sophisticated, moralistic way. . . of course.

Duplicity by MaryAnne Kolton

   He held the wine glass stem with thumb and forefinger, lifted slightly, as if eyeing the clarity and color.  He was, in fact, looking through the wine at his enchanting, much younger wife seated opposite him in the restaurant.  He enjoyed seeing her like this.  Blurred, distorted, unfamiliar.  Non-specific.  The only way he would permit himself to view her at this point. 



The secret she was keeping didn’t seem to matter quite so much when he viewed her this way.  He knew she had one.  He just didn’t know who it was.  She wasn’t astute enough to realize she employed certain tics and tells that surfaced when she was deceiving him.  He wasn’t going to enlighten her as to what they were.  Knowledge is power.

 She wore a cunning, little black dress like a second skin.  Her blonded hair scattered itself about her shoulders.  It surprised him that the diamonds he bought to ornament her - meant to act as caution lights for those who might attempt to steal what belonged to him - lay muted and lifeless when viewed through the Sauvignon Blanc.  He’d waste no more money on warnings.
  
A smile formed inside his head,  as he thought of the limited, yet seemingly endless time we have to experience life.  He allowed himself an outward scowl when he took note of the amount of that time he had wasted on the disingenuous beauty who sat before him.  Why had he permitted himself to be captured by the web she spun so slow and sure?  Old.  He must be getting old.


 Looking directly into his eyes, she attempted a questioning smile.  Viewed through the veil of wine, it appeared more like a fearful contortion.  The locking of her eyes on his was a dead give away.  She rarely looked at him when she spoke.  The tell was just another deceit lost in the pale sunshine in his glass.


He’d allow her to maintain the facade for tonight.  He lowered the glass to the table.


He had a secret as well.