<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Billy C on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/billy-c/</link><description>Recent content in Billy C on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><atom:link href="/authors/billy-c/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Late Night Rendezvous</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/late-night-rendezvous/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/late-night-rendezvous/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;*
It was after midnight, but I was having trouble
sleeping. I would doze off, but then come awake again at the slightest
noise. I am not typically a paranoid person, but for some reason the house
sounded strange tonight. I had began to doze for the dozenth time when
the hand covered my mouth. I came instantly awake. My hands were pulled
behind my head and tied loosely to the bed post. The strange thing was
was that they weren’t tied tight enough to hold me. I was just beginning
to struggle when I heard a female voice whisper, “Stop that!” It was a
voice I recognized.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>