Stephanie Cage - Writer

So, I have a new hobby.  I find this new pastime perfectly suits both my innately social personality and my inherent laziness.  By attending facebook parties, I can chat to my heart's content with fascinating people all over the world, and I don't need to touch a mascara wand or a pair of straighteners, much less try to work out which of my several dozen party dresses will be new to this particular combination of people, or whether I need to add yet another to the collection. I know I'm a bit behind the curve here (let's face it, that's not uncommon for me) but I only recently discovered the delights of facebook parties, mostly thanks to Alexia Adams and friends' sterling efforts to publicise Sexy in the City. I spent a delightful evening paying a virtual visit to my US-based writer friends, sharing stories and pictures of our favourite exotic locations, and discovering several fantastic new books (all part of the 'Sexy in the City' boxed set, which...

“I said—do you have any children?” The repeated question was spoken a lot slower and carefully enunciated this time, as if she herself were a child. The question, unbeknown to him, brought to the surface her secret, long held dream of having a child of her own. To raise her child to be loved and wanted, as she was never brought up. Never to be used as an accessory, then discarded when the party was over. Rania shook her head sadly, partly to dispel the image and partly to answer his question, murmuring softly, “No. No, I don’t.” She had a sneaky feeling the barriers she had long ago constructed were becoming more transparent with each passing minute of this conversation. His sharp gaze never seemed to miss a trick as he watched her smooth down her apron for the umpteenth time that evening. “Why do you ask? Am I that much of a natural with children?” She smiled breezily. Clearly, he was in no mood for jokes as her light-hearted comment fell on deaf ears and he continued...

The next day arrived entirely too fast. Training lasted until well past midnight, leaving Rachel to function on less than six hours of rest. It’s only six months , she reminded herself, and you’ll be junior editor in no time . She stood in line at the coffee shop beneath the building that housed Equinox Publishing, her eyes burning from lack of sleep. Certain that a frappe would make the world right again, she waited patiently to place her order. Her patience was rewarded with quick service, and she held her iced coffee drink lovingly as she scooped it up from the counter. Sleepily, she suppressed a yawn and turned to head upstairs where, undoubtedly, another stack of wasted manuscripts awaited her attention. Rachel hadn’t taken five steps, when her toe caught on the edge of one of the rugs. It sent her falling forward; her frappe went flying ahead of her. “Oh!” Before the exclamation had completely escaped her lips, she felt a pair of hands grab onto her. The floor rushed...

“Sorry I’m late,” Lalita said as she rushed into the boardroom. She took her seat at the opposite end of the table to Jeremy and ran a shaking hand over her hair. Raising her eyes, she met Jeremy’s concerned stare and did her best to paste a reassuring smile on her face. Conversation buzzed around her as she stared out the window. When Lalita noticed a prolonged silence, she pulled herself back to the present. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at her. “Lalita? I asked if you wanted to make any final comments before we wrap up?” Jeremy repeated. “Oh…ah…just to thank everyone for their cooperation and hard work in making Evans International a success. In my discussions with the CEO last week, he indicated that we are on track for a record-breaking year and that Asia is leading the corporation in both new products and new partners. Thanks to you!” Lalita concluded with a round of applause and hoped her smile reached her eyes. Taking her words as dismissal, the men and women gathe...