As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"


Sizzling Kiss Contest Entry

The most amazing thing woke me. I was dreaming I was a baby and my mother was offering me a pacifier. I felt the rubber tip against my mouth and my lips parted, and suddenly I realized there really was something touching my mouth. It was Arianne’s. I opened my eyes and she froze. She was studying me as if she wasn’t sure of my reaction. My eyes shot over to the couch where her mother had been.


“She went to bed,” she said, still looking uncertain.

“Oh.”

She settled back against the couch. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

“No—I, uh…it’s okay,” I stumbled.

“That was sneaky, finding my hand under the blanket. I was wondering when you were going to do it.”

“You were?”

She looked at me knowingly.

“You just looked so peaceful right now. So restful. I’m sorry I—”

“It’s really okay,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “I thought your mother was over there.”

“I just wanted to know what they felt like.”

I smiled. “And?”

Her face reddened and she smiled as if she knew a secret. She looked down at my hand and covered it with her own.

“I like the way your skin feels.”

I could barely breathe, but somehow it didn’t matter. Somehow I was still sitting there, still as a stone, unable to move, with my heart still beating and air moving in and out of my lungs. She was looking at me with that gaze—that intense, penetrating stare that meant a lot more than she might have intended. I glanced at her lips. They were full and soft and I wanted to taste them again. Before I knew it she had moved close to me again and I felt the warmth of her face. I was ready for her this time. Our mouths met at first with hesitancy, in exploration. I inhaled and felt her breath, and then my hand went up to the side of her face and all of a sudden I felt like I was being pulled into a vacuum. In the suffocating heat I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her soft eyelids, and the warm ecstasy on her face. We were enjoying each other, and yet I still imagined her mother tiptoeing down the hallway, leaning out and watching—watching as Arianne moved closer to me, her hand against my chest, kissing me with so much energy I thought I would burst.

And then she stopped. I was practically on my back against the couch cushions, and she was leaning over me, our eyes open and our gazes locked. She looked sleepy and content. And then she laid her head against my chest and snuggled against my body. She had no idea what frenzied exclamations the rest of me was experiencing. I closed my eyes and it was all I could do to control myself. I stroked her hair and willed myself to relax.

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