Showing results by narrator "Stewart Wills" in All Categories

When you've been told your whole life that something is sinful, you have two options. Avoid it like the plague, like it has the power to destroy all that is good and pure. Or become as fixated upon it as Eve was upon that apple. I'm sick of the push-pull of terror and temptation. It's tearing me apart. I just want a bite of the apple. More than a bite. I want to devour it. Have its juices spill from my lips. And by apple, I, of course, mean sex.

I cultivated my shamelessness. I wore it as a badge of honor at my convent school, and I've been turning it into an art form at Alchemy, the club whose social media I manage. My boss, though? He's the most proper person I've ever met. No one would peg him as the finance director of a sex club. (I mean, no one's pegging him at all, which is probably his problem. #justsayin) I get it. He's a widower, single-parenting two little girls while holding down a massive job. He needs an outlet, something just for him.

"Lord Jim" is a novel by Joseph Conrad originally published as a serial in "Blackwood's Magazine" from October 1899 to November 1900. An early and primary event is the abandonment of a ship in distress by its crew including the young British seaman Jim. He is publicly censured for this action and the novel follows his later attempts at coming to terms with his past. In 1998, the Modern Library ranked "Lord Jim" #85 on its list of the 100 best English language novels of the 20th century.

I've endured fifteen years of underwhelming marital sex with Lord John Russell. One front-page tell-all from his secretary puts an end to that misery pretty efficiently. As the media furor rages around our divorce, two things become abundantly clear. One: it's time for some decent orgasms, which is why I've joined the Unfurl program at London's top sex club, Alchemy. Two: it's time to take control of the narrative, for myself and for other women. That's why I plan to document my sexual revolution on camera.

Shame. Prejudice. Fear. All woven into the very fabric of my being. I'm swathed in them like the most suffocating cloak. Beneath this toxic mantle, I wear my desires close to my heart. Where it's dark. Where they're safe. Until I meet Darcy, a dancer at Alchemy and the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The only problem? Her boyfriend, Max. She makes me feel alive, but he arouses emotions I've taken great care my entire life to condemn and deny and bury. Emotions I've always been taught are sinful and wrong.

A sailor called Ishmael narrates the obsessive quest of Ahab, captain of the whaler Pequod, for revenge on Moby Dick, a white whale which on a previous voyage destroyed Ahab’s ship and severed his leg at the knee. Although the novel was a commercial failure and out of print at the time of the author’s death in 1891, its reputation as a Great American Novel grew during the 20th century.

"It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it." So Melville wrote of his masterpiece, one of the greatest works of imagination in literary history. In part, Moby-Dick is the story of an eerily compelling madman pursuing an unholy war against a creature as vast and dangerous and unknowable as the sea itself. But more than just a novel of adventure, more than an encyclopaedia of whaling lore and legend, the book can be seen as part of its author's lifelong meditation on America.