<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623</id><updated>2011-11-25T08:34:17.392-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Girl Next Door, Texas</title><subtitle type='html'>Was it the perfume and the bubblegum?&lt;br /&gt;
I called you the girl next door,
A two-step with you on an old wood floor.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-6180980298452430250</id><published>2009-05-27T06:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T06:13:08.557-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing</title><summary type='text'>I know it's been almost a year since I've posted a story. This is the first short story I wrote for my next book called "Positions". Each story focuses on one sexual position. Some of the chapters have some pretty interesting titles. My favorite being "Prison Guard"! I won't keep you longer. Enjoy.=========She walked out the back door under the long porch wrapped in a terrycloth wrap ready to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/6180980298452430250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=6180980298452430250&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6180980298452430250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6180980298452430250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2009/05/standing.html' title='Standing'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-6135832515192109758</id><published>2009-05-27T06:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T06:09:32.709-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News</title><summary type='text'>As you know, I don't do your typical posts. My posts are stories. So posting information is a tad bit difficult for me. Good news is Lulu.com has picked up "Erotic Writings" and it can now be bought on Amazon.com at this URLhttp://www.amazon.com/Erotic-Writings-Erin-Bane/dp/B002AD42E0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1243422283&amp;sr=1-1I'll tell you the book is cheaper at Lulu.com, but is easier to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/6135832515192109758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=6135832515192109758&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6135832515192109758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6135832515192109758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2009/05/good-news.html' title='Good News'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-7395506161185010078</id><published>2008-05-05T20:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:48:18.728-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mom</title><summary type='text'>Sometimes the days just run one right into the next. On a typical weekday, she spends eight hours at the office, then rushes home to try to put something resembling a meal on the table. Some days the kids are all home and they eat together just like families used to do every night. Most days, however, dinner is whatever can be found, whenever each one happens to come through the door. Sometimes </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/7395506161185010078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=7395506161185010078&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7395506161185010078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7395506161185010078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2008/05/mom.html' title='The Mom'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-7152804400996332155</id><published>2008-04-24T14:23:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T18:35:03.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lake</title><summary type='text'>The sun was just rising over the lake as she stepped through the sliding door and onto the deck. She had come here to escape life for a little while; the demands of work, and painful reminders of a relationship that had ended a few months ago that still haunted her. After running into her ex in a restaurant last week, she had decided to make an escape for a while. She had thought she was doing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/7152804400996332155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=7152804400996332155&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7152804400996332155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7152804400996332155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2008/04/lake.html' title='The Lake'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-3688016463199100578</id><published>2008-04-05T09:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T12:54:03.817-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lunch Date</title><summary type='text'>The grove of trees blurred through the driver's side window as her car sped down this once country road. Suburban sprawl had taken over the land on the west side of the road and was now sprinkled with executive homes each sitting on an acre or so of property. To the east though, the landscape remained untouched and she reached for her sunglasses from the counsel as the mid-day sun glimmered </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/3688016463199100578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=3688016463199100578&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/3688016463199100578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/3688016463199100578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2008/04/lunch-date.html' title='The Lunch Date'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-7823318214111231538</id><published>2008-04-02T10:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T10:35:26.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day Off</title><summary type='text'>She opened her email inbox and she saw his name there. Here heart skipped a beat as it always did when she found a message from him had arrived."I know you have the day off tomorrow. I'm on my own for the week. I thought we could meet at the park. I'll pick you up. Can you make it work?"She could make it work. She would have walked through fire to make it work, to get a dose of him. She typed out</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/7823318214111231538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=7823318214111231538&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7823318214111231538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/7823318214111231538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2008/04/day-off.html' title='The Day Off'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-3751024570164765111</id><published>2008-01-04T08:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T08:28:15.995-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm published</title><summary type='text'>I published my e-book today through lulu at http://stores.lulu.com/ErinBaneI wouldn't mind if you bought the downloaded of my book either.GNDTX</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/3751024570164765111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=3751024570164765111&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/3751024570164765111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/3751024570164765111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-published.html' title='I&apos;m published'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-6803913960360340533</id><published>2007-08-04T20:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T20:11:08.459-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Curiosity</title><summary type='text'>It had been a curiosity for them for a very long time. Doubts can arise from time to time and there is a definite certainty regarding how sexually charged a mutual encounter can between a man and a woman. On occasion, on occasions that only happen in odd days when the planets align, people win the lottery, who don’t play, and when political parties get along, women look to other women for sexual </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/6803913960360340533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=6803913960360340533&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6803913960360340533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/6803913960360340533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2007/08/curiosity.html' title='The Curiosity'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-8411802914740013679</id><published>2007-06-14T22:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T08:17:46.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pool</title><summary type='text'>Read more about "The Pool" here.Blue was her favorite color, which happened to be a good thing given her eyes were blue with grains of gold like pedals of sunflowers. It was like mixing the beautiful blue sky with the warm yellow summertime field of endless happiness.The splashes rose and arched above her head dropping beneath her chin, between her fingers and behind her head. They came from the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/8411802914740013679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=8411802914740013679&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/8411802914740013679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/8411802914740013679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2007/06/pool.html' title='The Pool'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-116777295436220765</id><published>2007-01-02T15:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T11:44:51.580-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Argument II</title><summary type='text'>( You can read more about the behind the scenes of this story here.)Maybe the world wasn't earth shatteringly different.Slightly different.He walked in like he had walked in a million times before. Those days would greet him at the door like an over anxious cocker spaniel, bounding to meet him, pouncing in a non-rhythmic fashion. And just when he thought it was under control, another round of K-9</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/116777295436220765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=116777295436220765&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116777295436220765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116777295436220765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2007/01/argument-ii.html' title='The Argument II'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-116611431355191982</id><published>2006-12-14T10:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T10:38:33.570-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Argument</title><summary type='text'>He sat on the bench in his back yard, on top of the slab of ten by ten concrete that felt as cold as his heart. His forearms rested on the top of his thighs, his head cupping his temples. If he had been a smoker, or this had been the 1950's, an unfiltered Camel would have rested between his right index and middle finger lifting an aroma of fine North Carolina tobacco into the air.It wasn't, nor </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/116611431355191982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=116611431355191982&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116611431355191982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116611431355191982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/12/argument.html' title='The Argument'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-116543831293093116</id><published>2006-12-06T14:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T14:51:52.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Time</title><summary type='text'>&lt;!-- // Begin Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;Where's the first place you had sex?My bedroomPartner's bedroomParent's bedroomShowerCarParkOfficeBathroom/Restorrom  Free polls from Pollhost.com&lt;!-- // End Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/116543831293093116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=116543831293093116&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116543831293093116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116543831293093116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/12/first-time.html' title='The First Time'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-116422679384696863</id><published>2006-11-22T14:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T14:19:53.883-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rain Part III - Finale</title><summary type='text'>He reached with his right hand and cupped her chin. He watched as her eyes went from his to his lips and back again. Returning and gazing and wanting and hoping. They leaned in and kissed. Slowly the kisses started like the rain, then flooded with a torrent.She leaned back and felt her wet dress cling to her breasts. She wanted the rain, the kisses and him. She wanted to romance and the fun and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/116422679384696863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=116422679384696863&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116422679384696863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116422679384696863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/11/rain-part-iii-finale.html' title='The Rain Part III - Finale'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-116051354341220727</id><published>2006-10-10T15:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T15:52:23.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rain Part II</title><summary type='text'>Thanks for the poll participation. "The Rain" has turned into one giant flood for me. Here's more to keep you coming back.~~~~~~~~~~~He moved closer, she froze, this was it, this was the make or break point. The cards were on the table, he held the aces, queens, kings and jacks. Lots of them and it was time to play them here in the rain. "Time is short," she thought; a miriad of moments flashed. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/116051354341220727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=116051354341220727&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116051354341220727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/116051354341220727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/10/rain-part-ii.html' title='The Rain Part II'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-115775123312523450</id><published>2006-09-08T16:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T16:34:55.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rain (Part I)</title><summary type='text'>"You'll never forget it," she said as the drips ran from her eyes delicately running the meticulous makeup preparation from a few hours before. His stare either meant he was close to leaving or close to moving in for the kill. She couldn't decide which he would choose, but had a beggar’s chance on the bowery he was going to move in "for the kill". He stepped closer and she closed her eyes, maybe </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/115775123312523450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=115775123312523450&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/115775123312523450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/115775123312523450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/09/rain-part-i.html' title='The Rain (Part I)'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-115106944019071512</id><published>2006-06-23T08:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T10:15:43.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story</title><summary type='text'>For the sweet southern bell who inspired this ...The heavy sigh left him as he leaned back to ponder the moment. The moment that was in front of him and around him at the same time; surrounding him with little opportunity to escape.He was speechless. It hadn't occurred to him until she knew who he really was. "Wow, she's hot." It raced in his head and they were miles apart, but the spark was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/115106944019071512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=115106944019071512&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/115106944019071512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/115106944019071512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/06/story.html' title='The Story'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-114901838497129569</id><published>2006-05-30T14:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T14:46:25.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Apartment</title><summary type='text'>What was it? Was there some odd quality in his undiscovered conscious he had overlooked? Why? Over and over again he ran through the possibilities. Sometimes it made sense but mostly it didn't. The attraction just didn't make sense. Blond and a little curvy made sense. Blue eyes made sense. Smart, really smart made sense. But tall and older didn't. Early 40's didn't make sense. She was hot in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/114901838497129569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=114901838497129569&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114901838497129569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114901838497129569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/05/apartment.html' title='The Apartment'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-114556756676499537</id><published>2006-04-20T16:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T16:12:46.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Magazine</title><summary type='text'>Thanks for being patient with me while I have been busy lately.GNDTXShe put down the magazine and thought back a moment considering what she had just read. Had it been that long? She assumed it had and wondered with that same lame phrase, "Time sure passes quickly," that everyone seems to mutter when they notice their age.She checked her watch, adjusted her shirt and tried to pass the time in the</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/114556756676499537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=114556756676499537&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114556756676499537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114556756676499537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/04/magazine.html' title='The Magazine'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-114019623459937301</id><published>2006-02-17T11:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T13:41:29.713-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Groceries</title><summary type='text'>This post has been a long time coming. It took a while to write. It's based on two songs. The first is "Slow You Down" From Joe Ely's Love and Danger album. The second is Kenny Chesney's "Woman With You". I've provided both for your listening pleasure.  GNDTXWoman With YouSlow You DownThe door opened and her hands were full of groceries. Well, for about 20 seconds, her hands were full. The bag </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/114019623459937301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=114019623459937301&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114019623459937301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/114019623459937301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/02/groceries.html' title='The Groceries'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113888919316084415</id><published>2006-02-02T08:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T08:06:33.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dance</title><summary type='text'>"No, I don't think anyone has EVER asked me to one," she replied to his question. And that was the honest truth. No one had ever asked to go to one before. "I'll see you Saturday morning then."And that was the end of the phone call. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe 2 things. One that he would want to go out of town and two that he would ask her to go to another state to watch that!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113888919316084415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113888919316084415&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113888919316084415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113888919316084415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/02/dance.html' title='The Dance'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113839428784948896</id><published>2006-01-27T14:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T15:31:51.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pirate</title><summary type='text'>"That's right! All u'ya rrr gonna haf t'walk." And he walked on in front of the line of newly made prisoners. Right foot stepping with a "creek" and left leg landing with a "thunk" from his wooden leg. A nice souvenir from the Barbary Coast.The plank was as scary as it sounded, being prodded at saber point to plunge into the warm depths of the Caribbean to swim for yourself. the alternative was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113839428784948896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113839428784948896&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113839428784948896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113839428784948896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/pirate.html' title='The Pirate'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113793807841809245</id><published>2006-01-22T07:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T07:54:38.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dressing Room - A Guest Post</title><summary type='text'>I'm pleased to introduce a guest poster. She has written a super-sexy story and I'm happy to share it with you. This is her first work she has let me graciously share. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Please give her a warm welcome.       GNDTXThe Dressing RoomThey’re wandering around the mall in the middle of the day on a Friday. The last time they were here together, it was before </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113793807841809245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113793807841809245&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113793807841809245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113793807841809245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/dressing-room-guest-post.html' title='The Dressing Room - A Guest Post'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113744744649680615</id><published>2006-01-16T15:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T15:37:26.513-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pickle</title><summary type='text'>"I remember that," she thought to herself. What she was trying to recall was the first time she used a vibrator. She had friends in school who had them and spoke very little about them. They were mystical and taboo for her in high school. Only smutty girls used them, or so she was told. Most of her friends either didn't know what they were or too embarrassed to ask about them.She didn't like </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113744744649680615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113744744649680615&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113744744649680615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113744744649680615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/pickle.html' title='The Pickle'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113691905492647434</id><published>2006-01-10T12:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T12:50:54.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Therapist</title><summary type='text'>Editor's note: I like to give you a little side story when I can. I chuckled when I came up with the intro to this story. I hit a rough patch in my life a few years ago and decided to talk to a therapist about it. Therapy is a great thing, if you find a good one. After revealing other "trouble" spots in my life she looked at me and said, "You're only 26 and you've lived enough for a 60 year old!"</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113691905492647434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113691905492647434&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113691905492647434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113691905492647434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/therapist.html' title='The Therapist'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113660733262609857</id><published>2006-01-06T22:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T09:53:44.206-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Museum</title><summary type='text'>I wanted to set the mood for this next story. The inspiration for the mood was this song by Lifehouse "You and Me". I thought about maybe Coldplay's "Fix You". Turn it on instead if you like. It goes nicely with the story as well.Editing note: I had to remove the song from the post. It was causing errors in some browsers! Sorry for the inconvenience. I will reserch some more video hosters and try</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113660733262609857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113660733262609857&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113660733262609857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113660733262609857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/museum.html' title='The Museum'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113632011929491937</id><published>2006-01-03T14:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T14:28:39.306-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kitchen</title><summary type='text'>"Pancakes," he heard himself think. "A big stack with syrup and some real butter." He was hungry and that was what would hit the spot.No parking in the garage again today. Too nice outside. The hummer was slowly cooling down as he made his way to the front door. "Gotta love that pewter thing on the door," he thought.The door was solid oak. Thick and heavy. Sturdy. The way doors should be made. He</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113632011929491937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113632011929491937&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113632011929491937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113632011929491937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/kitchen.html' title='The Kitchen'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113611379457695025</id><published>2006-01-01T05:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T05:09:54.580-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Race</title><summary type='text'>3:20 AMHe rolled over away from her trying not to wake her. There was plenty of time for sex and sleep before the alarm went off, but he knew she was tired. The room was dark gray. He could make out things like it was high noon. The absense of light makes things appear black white and grey. Tonight was no exception.Tonight, however, there was an exception about 2 and a half feet under the covers.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113611379457695025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113611379457695025&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611379457695025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611379457695025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/race.html' title='The Race'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113611368164273156</id><published>2006-01-01T05:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T05:08:01.646-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blanket</title><summary type='text'>She loved the blanket. It had been everywhere with her. This cheap $5 blanket had outlasted $100 a plate dinners with bad boy friends, $300 Coach purses and $250/month car payments for cars now residing in the junk yard.It was red, white and blue, rather patriotic, but plaid. The fringe around the edges was still in good shape. She even spent an hour or two picking out grass seeds from a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113611368164273156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113611368164273156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611368164273156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611368164273156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/blanket.html' title='The Blanket'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113611347907555928</id><published>2006-01-01T05:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T05:06:20.523-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bathtub</title><summary type='text'>The Bathtub"Righty tighty, lefty loosey." And then the water went off. If his friends knew he was in the bathtub, he would never hear the end of it. Rationally, it relaxed him the water kind of settled his nerves better than a gin and tonic or a cold foreign beer. It was warm and dark. His 5 o'clock shadow bristled under his palms as the sweat mixed with bath water dripped from his forehead and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113611347907555928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113611347907555928&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611347907555928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611347907555928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/bathtub.html' title='The Bathtub'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113611345018247328</id><published>2006-01-01T04:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T05:04:10.190-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shirt</title><summary type='text'>"I'll have coffee cream please," she said as she pulled through the drive through.It had been a long day and she was loving it.Even the little McDonald's jingle was going in her head  It was a passionate night.One you don't forget.One like your first really good kiss, really hard breakup r really hard night of  ...  Her mind went back tot he road but not off him."Sweet mother of chance he was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113611345018247328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113611345018247328&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611345018247328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611345018247328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/shirt.html' title='The Shirt'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20393623.post-113611297233682519</id><published>2006-01-01T04:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T04:56:12.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fireplace</title><summary type='text'>"You have reached your destination," was all he heard as he turned off the headlights. He bought the GPS just for that little sound. He knew where he was going, but it looked cool in his Black Hummer H2. The H3's were too small. Snow was on the ground and he was walking up the driveway. Sure the garage was warm and dry, but tonight he wanted to walk in. The snow would be stopping soon and melted </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/feeds/113611297233682519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20393623&amp;postID=113611297233682519&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611297233682519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20393623/posts/default/113611297233682519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://grlnxtdoortx2.blogspot.com/2006/01/fireplace.html' title='The Fireplace'/><author><name>Girl Next Door</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10089321631509189938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/grlnxtdoortx/gndtxprof-2a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
