<?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>P-Funk on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/p-funk/</link><description>Recent content in P-Funk on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 09 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/p-funk/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Rubber Milkmaid</title><link>/stories/2013/10/09/the-rubber-milkmaid/</link><pubDate>Wed, 09 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2013/10/09/the-rubber-milkmaid/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Rebecca pawed her way through the racks of rubber goods like
a kitten in a yarn factory. Today was the grand opening of the
new rave and fetishwear store, and she&amp;rsquo;d been one of the first
customers through the door. Now, surrounded by rubber, latex,
and vinyl clothing, she found herself practically squealing with
delight.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She picked up a hood and held it to her face, breathing in
the fresh scent of new rubber. The material was smooth in her
hands, a shiny emerald - not her color, but gorgeous nonetheless.
Reluctantly, she placed it back on the shelf.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>