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Angel's Wish [MultiFormat]
eBook by Kissa Starling

eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica
eBook Description: A Timeless Saga of Romance and Bondage and a Lesbian Love that Crossed the Barrier of the Ages! It is the year 2056. Angel is a deadbeat mechanic whose own parents have disowned her due to lifestyle choices. One day she finds herself daydreaming in front of a 1950's pin-up calendar. Suddenly she is transported back in time. An unspoken wish has been granted. The brand-new antique cars fascinate her and the classy women intrigue her senses. One beautiful blonde in particular catches her fancy: Carina Andreas, daughter of the wealthy Erik Andreas. He owns a local car-building factory. Angel meets the family when their car breaks down in the rain and she gets it started. They invite her back to their home since her non-existent in-town friends haven't shown up for her. Angel sets her sights on Carina but Mary the maid has something else in store for her. This maid is not only lesbian but also a submissive. Things get hot and heavy between the two of them but Angel never gives up on Carina. She goes on errands to help others and finds herself really caring about them. Before she knows it she's finding ways to do good things without being asked or directed. Mr. Andreas invites Angel to tour his car factory and she ends up working for him. He treats her just like a daughter. One day at the frozen pond Angel discovers that Mary is the soul-mate she's been looking for, but it may be too late. They ultimately make up before Christmas Eve and spend the evening together. Angel makes a wish upon the star atop the tree that her life can continue just as it is--the next morning she is transported back in her sleep. Angel goes around in a daze wondering where she went wrong to lose everything that meant so much to her, and if she will ever see Mary again. Separated by time, she aches to know if the two of them can somehow reunite through the gulfs of time and spend the rest of their days together.

eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions
Fictionwise Release Date: May 2009


The eviction notice I pulled from the door had been rained on. The edges curled, and when I tried to smooth them out I discovered there were really three such notices, all attached.

All three notes had a different date on them. The last one smelled kind of moldy. Apparently I was supposed to move--by Friday. I couldn't believe I was evicted! I only had three days to move? How could I have missed this? Where in the world would I go? Just what I needed--another complication in my not-so-great life.

The apartment sucked anyway. The paint peeled, the yard wasn't taken care of and the rodents were more abundant than the tenants. One tenant, Mrs. Miner, was on her way through the parking lot as I tried to start my broken down car.

"Hey, have a great day at work."

"Sure thing Mrs. Miner, good luck at the bingo hall."

That old woman had more energy than I did. I watched her get into her car while mine warmed up and coughed. She wore her usual permanent press black slacks and golf tee.

The blue rinse on her hair was recent, not a hair was out of place. The white sneakers she wore came right up to the pink ball attached to her sock. Her bingo bag had Betty Boop all over it and held at least seven daubers. Couldn't she only daub with one? I liked Mrs. Miner a lot. Old people didn't seem to get a fair shake these days.

On the way to work I worried about where I would hang my hat next week. I pressed four on the cell phone my mother gave me when I left. When I was kicked out is more like it.


"Yeah, Mom it's me. Listen, here's the deal. They're painting my place next week and I was wondering if I could sleep in the guest room." I'd spoken so fast I wasn't sure she even knew who it was.

I heard the air pass through her lips and the hesitation lull began.

"Who is it Mildred?" my father shouted in the background. I can just imagine him sitting in his recliner, pipe in hand and eyes on the paper. He loves reading about other people's misfortunes--especially mine.

"Wrong number, Harold."

That was it. A click of the phone let me know a relocation back home was not a viable option. It hurt that my own mother wouldn't speak to me.

The whole episode could have been avoided. I still couldn't believe they'd disowned me. All teenagers did crazy stuff. I'd never forget the day, seven years ago, Mr. Shelton walked in on me and Mrs. Warbleton at the school gym...

* * * *

"What in God's good grace is going on here?"

Mr. Shelton's face turned three shades of red and each one was deeper as he got closer to where we stood. The vein on the top of his bald head seemed to protrude as he unwound the bra from the shower nozzle. The fact that his teacher of the year bound with her hands above her head didn't register with him at first.

"I've always known you were trouble. You'll go to jail for this one. What were you thinking? You weren't thinking. That's always been your problem! You hoodlum kid."

His nose wrinkled up when he reached around and removed the two black clips from her nipples. I'd found those on her roster board she'd carried around at the basketball game earlier.

Funny how I misjudged my reaction, but I stood there the whole time and didn't speak at all. Well, I did kind of snicker when he removed the hair brush from Mrs. Warbleton's Brazilian shaved pussy. The moan that escaped her lips was priceless. It caused her head to lean back, her eyes to roll up in her head and her legs to go weak. That's when Mr. Shelton identified her.

"Gina, is that you? Why, what in the world..."

It was all downhill from there, for me at least. She cried and he dialed- nine-one-one. It didn't take long for my parents to show up at the police station. My father, of course, yelled while my mother stood slightly back and to the right.

"You, raped your coach? With a hairbrush? You beat her arse with the bristles and beat the back of her thighs with the palm of your hand? This is the last draw. I want you out--out of our house, our lives and out of our family, for good. Pick up your things tonight then don't bother coming back--ever."

I wasn't given a chance to explain. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway. There was no way my father would believe she approached me, that she enjoyed every minute of our escapade. He didn't understand me and the feeling was quite mutual.

Mr. Shelton dropped by the jail on the day I was released.

"The school board is willing to drop the charges. Mrs. Warbleton does not want her good name tarnished. She has already taken a position elsewhere. If you go to night school this semester we will allow you to graduate with your class."

"Fuck you and your old school marm too. She wanted my fist inside of her pussy. I bet you would've loved to join in wouldn't you? You're such a hypocrite, just like my old man. You couldn't pay me to come back to your school."

That was that. My PH D parents kicked me out of the house and poof--I was a high school dropout. Their dreams of a college graduate were dashed while my dreams of being accepted for who I really was ran right down the drain.

Months later Gina Warbleton tracked me down at Mel's garage.

"You got a call. Don't make this a regular thing."

Mel was a softie at heart but he had to be all strict in front of the other guys. I don't know what I'd have done if he hadn't let me spend the first six months away from home at the shop.

Thanks, Mel. I picked up the receiver.

"Your dime, my time."

"It's me, Gina. Can you talk? I've missed you. I want to get together. There's no one else like you. I think about you constantly. I think about that time we were together. I want to belong to you and only you, pleeeeeeeeease."

It took me the whole conversation to recall who Gina was--Mrs. Warbleton.

"Don't you take the cake? Don't call me again, lady." I hung up the phone and wished my father had listened in on that one. She claimed she was innocent when brought before the school board and my parents. That one incident changed my life forever.

I'd worked for Mel all through high school. He kind of seemed to understand me even if he didn't agree with my lifestyle. He'd shown me everything I needed to know about fixing cars. He even inspired my love of old cars.

The car groaned as I pulled it into the gravel parking lot next to the garage. Mel ran a tight ship. The grass in front by the street was mowed, the windows were cleaned and the digital sign was updated with our 'sale of the week--oil changes, $67.99'. As I walked through the office to the bay I noticed the quarts of oil had been stacked by grade. Time to work.

I glanced around the shop as the oil drained from the '50 mustang in front of me. Mel sure didn't believe in decoration. The only picture that hung on the wall was an old calendar. It was one of those girlie pinup calendars from the 1940's or 1950's. Now those were women. They looked so glamorous and classy.

I screwed in the oil filter and poured four and half quarts of new Castrol Shine. It was only 11:30 and I'd already done three oil changes--rotated, and balanced, the tires on two cars. I liked to work alone. I got more done that way. That's why I volunteered for Sunday duty.

It gave me a chance to daydream too. I did a lot of that lately. Even more when Mel wasn't out here to bother me. My stomach rumbled. It was time for lunch. Luckily Burger Macs was a few steps away from work. Pauline was on duty and she was always nice to me. Her uniform was covered with grease and there were dark circles under her eyes. Nothing could take away the sparkle in her bright, blue eyes though.

"Hey you, its twelve o'clock, your lunchtime. I've already made up your burger with mustard and onions and the shake is almost finished."

I watched her spray the whipped cream on and top it with two cherries.

"Thanks, Pauline. You look especially pretty today. Did you change your hair?"

"Now you know I wear my hair this way every day. You look nice though. Are those new jeans you're wearing? The cowboy boots are a nice touch."

I flirted with that girl every day at lunchtime and she'd become immune to it. I guessed she had a boyfriend or something but she never mentioned him.

It was chilly outside so I sat in the bay to eat. My eyes were drawn to the pinup calendar. Funny how those women managed to show so much but still stayed legally covered. The more I stared the more aroused I became. There's something so erotic about seeing just a sliver of skin in all the right places.

I thought about how I would love to trace my finger slowly down that neckline to the open center. What would it be like? Did women back then like romance? Hours of foreplay? Hard, fast fucking until their eyes rolled back in their heads? How would a woman from that time period feel if you grabbed her by the hair and smacked her ass? What if her hands were tied together and held over her head by a single S hook? Mmmm, what if a cold, metal knife was run across those red, bumpy nipples?

Enough fantasizing. It was time to get back to the salt mines. I stretched my legs and wandered over to put new tires on an old Chevy truck that was up on the lift. Turns out, the Chevy wasn't up on the lift. Mel must have finished that one up yesterday.

Now a 1955 Ford Fairlane Crown Victoria sat up there. What an awesome car--red and white outside and in, wide, whitewall tires underneath. This thing was in primo mint condition. I loved it when old cars came into the shop. The ticket said this one needed an oil change. I finished quick enough and thought I had better move more cars into the garage.

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