Zak s Encounter with Louis Part 1
- 2 years ago
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3:00 PM MONDAY - NOVEMBER 5
I woke up on Monday at three o’clock in the afternoon. On a different day I would have sought out my big brother George, and seen if he had a little time to make love with his little sister. George is the very best big brother any girl could ever hope to ask for. I may have been the one that seduced him ten years ago, but he knows me better than I know me. He knows what I like, what I want, and what I need. More than that he truly loves me, and he tries to give me exactly what I need.
George has this gift, what some might call a super-power: vision. Not comic book x-ray vision, something real and far better, attentive vision ... He pays attention to me and notes how I react when we are together. He gently pushes my boundaries in the direction that my reactions indicate, then he waits for confirmation, and adjusts his actions. My body reacts to his touch like Pavlov’s dog reacted to that damned bell.
But today was Monday, which meant Katherine and Gabe our parents were in town. Although I would be with George in a few minutes, we would not be alone. It was not a hardship giving up some alone time. I wanted to spend some time with mom and dad watching them enjoy their four grandkids. Their grandchildren being our children. So I got dressed and inquired of Kristin where the wonderful man we shared, my big brother, her husband was. Then I walked down the street to the neighborhood park and playground.
Kristin was making Jambalaya, a spicy Creole recipe of chopped chicken, shrimp and andouille sausage. It would be stewed in a pot with sweet red bell peppers, tomatoes, onion, celery and garlic. It was seasoned with spicy tabasco peppers. Jamie and Lillian were helping by mixing a batter that would be cornbread muffins when we gathered together for dinner at six that evening. One of our planes left at seven o’clock every evening, 363 days a year, so dinner was always at six sharp.
It was a sunny 45 degree day in early November in Bridgeton Terrace, a suburb just west of the airport in Saint Louis Missouri. The kids were playing on the playground structure; they had another two hours of daylight remaining. Mom and dad were having fun with George’s two children with Kristin, his one with my Jamie, and my child with Punch. Eva, home from her studies at Eden Theological Seminary in Webster, was there with our other four children.
Biologically our kids are all siblings, cousins and half-siblings, to one another. But more significantly they are all the precious children of God. We seven adults all consider ourselves to be brothers and sisters in Christ and to one other. Therefore all of our children are brothers and sisters to one another as well. George had been talking to dad for some time. He told me we had to find some time to talk later. We both had flights tonight, at seven and nine, so it would have to be tomorrow.
We had a wonderful dinner back at the house, all of us together. It was a little crowded but having seventeen together all in one place was heaven. After dinner George drove over to the airport, he had the seven o’clock flight to the west. Dad excused himself and took a little nap before I drove him and mom to the cross dock to pick up their over-the-road tractor and semi-trailer. They would drive to Arizona before turning around Wednesday night.
They would be back in Saint Louis late Friday night or Saturday morning. For them life was four on, three off every week. It was eerily similar to our weeks here, three on, two off. As they pulled out of the lot dad drove and mom slept. They would switch places down in Springfield or Joplin around midnight. After saying goodbye, I continued on to the airport, I had the nine o’clock flight south. The kids should be in bed and asleep about the time I lifted off.
Punch had the eleven o’clock flight to the east, so once the children were in bed he was able to join in this evening’s playtime with Eva, Kristin, Jamie, and Lillian. We usually used the larger, rectangular servant’s room off the butler’s pantry for our playtime. George and I would just have to go without tonight. My six wonderful lovers spoil me, I hate to go even a day without their affectionate touch.
The flight south was to Cape Girardeau (CGI), Jonesboro (JBR), and Little Rock (LIT) then returning to Saint Louis (STL), was usually a ten hour duty day. Five of those hours were loggable in the air time. A late fall storm to the south of us made it a longer trip tonight.
The ground crew was apparently unable to get to the Cape Airport in the storm. So I was alone getting the many large white cotton bags that we were not allowed by company policy to call “mail bags” off of “Ferdinand,” my airplane tonight. I left them on the concrete hangar floor there at Cape.
Not that the actual Cape on the Mississippi River still exists; it was dynamited into oblivion a century ago in the name of progress. Having successfully left those items that wanted to be in the town named for Jean Baptiste de Girardot; I was on my way to the town named for Senator Jones.
Our final destination before returning to the town named for King Louis IX, was the town Jean-Baptiste Bernard de la Harpe named for a stone outcropping in the Arkansas River. Well at least nobody had thought to dynamite Little Rock’s rock.
The weather was better as I flew north back to the ‘Lou. Like all urban areas, Saint Louis is a heat island. The masonry, concrete, and asphalt absorb and store thermal energy. Because of the overnight release of this stored heat energy it had remained above freezing there. It had actually been colder south of the ‘Lou, Both Jonesboro and Cape Girardeau had snowfall and worse, ice.
The ‘Lou sits at a geographic point where three weather systems converge. It has predictably unpredictable weather. The predominant easterly flow of winds aloft creates a low pressure area that sucks moisture up the Mississippi valley.
That siphon often runs out of steam right over the city, dumping that moisture as rain, snow or ice. The really nasty weather, late winter storms, tornadoes and other destructive winds usually develop from an occluded front, at the intersection point, coming south-south-west from central Illinois.
I had planned to go home and have a nice shower, and change into something more casual before my ten o’clock appointment with Mrs. Mouequay, Stuart’s first grade teacher. But arriving two hours late back to Lambert there just wasn’t time.
The rectangular clock on the dashboard of my little red Karmann Ghia read nine-forty as I pulled out of the parking lot beside the old Flying Tigers building, and onto Banshee Road, named for James S. McDonnell’s first jet fighter. Ten minutes later having driven south along the perimeter road around Lambert Airport to Long Road and Carollton Elementary School.
10:30 AM TUESDAY
After a mind-numbing conversation with the school secretary. A conversation that would have been unnecessary had they correctly typed the information they had asked us to provide, but never so much as read. I waited to see Trudy Mouequay. Trudy apparently needed someone to read all of those confusing forms to her because Mrs. Sangfroid, the Principal, was in the classroom as well.
After my third explanation to a certifiable idiot. As to why they could either speak to the woman who gave birth to Stuart, or the person that the school specified on the note which Stuart brought home last Friday. The Principal finally said, “we asked you here to talk about problems with Stuart’s Cognitive Development Worksheet and his intrangence in dealing with Mrs. Mouequay.”
“Yes, Stuart said that you seemed really confused,” I replied, thinking that that was a gross understatement. Stuart had been going to school here for five quarters and these morons still didn’t know who his parents were, although it was written down on their own forms, “perhaps I can shed some light on the subject matter.”
“WE are not the ones who are confused,” Principal Sangfroid said.
“I am beginning to see where Stuart’s intrangence comes from,” Trudy interjected.
“Here,” Mrs. Mouequay said holding a mimeographed sheet, “the first, second and fifth questions measure a child’s ability to differentiate fact from fantasy.”
In too small of a chair, I sat in a first-grade classroom, in my polished black low-quarter shoes, my black “oh, girl those make you look so gay” socks, black uniform trousers and white uniform shirt. Silver wings were pinned to my left breast and each of my shoulders held an black epaulette with four silver stripes.
I started to giggle, and then to laugh. My big black leather Jepp case, black uniform jacket, hat and tie were out in the car. That was why they were so confused. The first question on the paper read, “my mommy can fly.” Stuart’s answer of “yes” was crossed out in red.
“What is so funny,” Mrs. Mouequay said sharply.
I said, “I’m a pilot, I fly airplanes for a living.”
I looked at question two, and then read it aloud, “my daddy can fly,” I said laughing just a little more than before, “his father does fly, he is a pilot too.” Question five read “I have two mommies,” I was really fighting the laughter now.
“But you KNOW as well as I do that’s NOT what those questions MEAN!”
I broke into full laughter while looking at them, “I’m really sorry that after my explaining it three times you still can’t comprehend that I am Stuart’s mother. That his other mother is Jamie Saunders, not Jamie Stuart. That Stuart is his first name. But please ... Please let’s talk about Stuart’s imagined inability to process information.”
“This worksheet comes straight from Collingwood Children’s Cognitive Development Third Edition” Trudy said. It now seemed to me she was the one becoming intrangedent.
“But the questions,” I said, “they are just very poorly worded if not clearly wrong.”
“It’s not WRONG! It CAN’T be WRONG!” she said loudly.”It was developed by a TEAM of EXPERTS in childhood cognitive development. YOUR stupid child answered it WRONG! You aren’t TRAINED, you don’t KNOW anything about education.”
I got up and walked out the door. It was almost eleven in the morning when I got back to the big shabby-chic hundred year old victorian we all shared. With its three floors, eight bedrooms, and servant’s quarters, it was a relic from a different age. George and Punch were already home, they had showered and were asleep in those servant’s quarters. No penises for Lisa today.
Lillian was waiting for a call and passing the time swapping spit with Kristin on the sofa in the living room. The pork shanks which they had obviously been working on were sitting marinating in a casserole pan of white wine in the kitchen. Jamie was doing something in the laundry room off the kitchen pantry.
I took her hand, and gave her my best “I need you right now look.” Talking could wait. I led my beloved sister, my sweet lover, through the butler’s pantry to the bathroom between the servant’s rooms. I needed a shower; then I needed a really good hard fuck. I climbed into the shower and a moment later after getting naked Jamie joined me. I kissed her deeply.
“I am so tired of banging my head against a brick wall of stupidity,” I said.
“Same shit?” she asked.
“Same shit, different day,” I said.
She was playing with my breasts and my nipple studs, and she was magically making me feel better already. The hands of a caring lover are truly the hands of God.
“I want to talk to Stanley. Check out some other options,” I said, “if everyone agrees.”
“I’m OK with it,” she said putting my right nipple in her mouth, “never hurts to listen.”
I turned the water off, and we toweled each other off before moving to the counter in the butler’s pantry. Both of the beds in the smaller square and larger rectangular rooms behind us, those rooms having once been the servants’ bedrooms were already occupied. Jamie lifted me up and started licking the parallel folds of my labia. I bit my lip so as not to wake the boys as I came.
Jamie took her braided leather belt from her pants, and tied my wrists behind my back, and then led me to the living room. We were both naked. “Intervention needed,” she called to Kristin and Lillian as we walked through the doorway from the parlor. My lovers pushed me backwards on the soft cushions of the sofa, and Kristin started finger fucking me. Jamie straddled my face and I returned the kind favor she had just offered me, nibbling on her loveliness as it was presented to me.
After Kristin got me all warmed up, Lillian pushed her hand into me and pumped hard. It was heaven; it was just what I needed. A few thrusts and I could not think of anything except Lillian’s expert skilled hand moving about within me and Jamie’s sweet fragrant cunt in my face. After Jamie squirted me and Lillian made me come again Kristin took Lillian’s place.
Lillian stripped and sat on my face taking Jamie’s place. I lapped at her eagerly. After my fourth or maybe my sixth orgasm ... I wasn’t really counting it spoils the mood; I slowly rose from the sofa. Kristin kissed me; she tasted me, Jamie and Lillian together. Jamie removed her belt from my wrists and Lillian helped me upstairs. I fell upon my bed and started to drift off to sleep.
My last waking thought was, we needed to make some sort of a change.
5:00 PM TUESDAY
I woke up on a sunny Tuesday afternoon at five o’clock. Five hours of sleep just was not enough. I needed a cup of coffee badly. Kristin was in the kitchen making Osso Buco alla Milanese con Risotto, bone with a hole in the style of Milan with rice, another wonderous dinner for us. I kissed Lillian who had stayed behind to cover the truck dispatch telephone and was helping Kristin with dinner. George and Punch had the kids, who had been released from school a bit over an hour ago, over at the neighborhood park.
The beautiful smell of pork shanks being tenderized by brazing in white wine, garlic, lemon and a bit of parsley filled the kitchen. Later those shanks, the bones with holes, would be served after being cooked in a sauce of plum tomatoes, diced carrots, onions and more garlic. You really can’t have too much garlic can you. Then served atop rice cooked in beef stock with saffron.
Eva walked into the kitchen, being Eva she was gorgeous, and she was naked. Dinner was always at six so the pilot for our seven o’clock, that would be Lillian tonight, did not have to rush. Since the children wouldn’t be back from the playground for half of an hour, I kissed Eva deeply and used my fingers to play gently with her left nipple ring. I took her right breast into my mouth before walking over and getting her a cup of coffee. When I returned she gave me a tongue kiss and took a sip of coffee.
After Kristin had put everything in the casserole pan she came over and started playing with Eva’s pussy. Eva was sitting in my lap, her head was turned to her right we were kissing over her shoulder. I was holding her atop me as I was playing with her nipple rings. Kristin started two fingering her brushing her thumb across Eva’s swollen clitoral head with every stroke.
Eventually Kristin got on her knees and started licking Eva. My love Eva, she was in another plane of existence. I held her tightly as she was moaning and squirting, coming and groaning and making other cute little sounds. She did not return to earth until we heard the boys knocking on the kitchen door.
George and Punch walked into the kitchen with their posse in tow as soon as Eva left to go get dressed. The boys had walked our children the four or five blocks from Coldwater Creek Elementary. Once the kids were all cleaned up from their outside play in the small amount of snowfall that we had in the ‘Loo today, the children would set the table for dinner.
Kristin had a skillful way of serving a family of fifteen an impeccable dinner. Moreover, she made it all seem so easy. After enjoying it, Jamie gave my brother’s wife a deep lingering tongue kiss as she traversed the kitchen on her way to her car. She had the seven o’clock flight to Springfield. Kristin returned the affectionate kiss by grabbing Lillian’s lovely ass playfully.
George and I helped clean up after dinner before he left to take the nine o’clock flight south. I had the eleven o’clock flight to Carbondale and Evansville, so I was able to join in the evening’s festivities, a fun little game we called ‘riding Punch,’ with Jamie, Kristin and Eva.
Before Eddie Rickenbacker was the President of Eastern Airlines he was a Dayton Ohio race car driver. When the United States entered the maelstrom of that “Great War” over in Europe he trained as a pilot at Kelly Field in San Antonio Texas. Then he went to France to fight in the U. S. Army’s 94th Aero Squadron.
The red white and blue top hat in a hoop insignia of America’s first aviation pursuit squadron was a consistent theme through the faux French farmhouse restaurant I was driving past on James S. McDonnell Boulevard along the northern perimeter of Lambert-Saint Louis Airport, near the buildings those Curtiss Commandos we would be flying next year in the Caribbean were manufactured.
Although the restaurant was right next door to our hanger, we very rarely ever went there. Maybe twice or three times in three years. We worked nights. I have logged 7255 hours in the Beechcraft Model 18, almost all of them IFR, Instrument Flying Rules, flying the “Night Express.”
With five qualified pilots and three airplanes we ran a fixed three on, two off schedule, about 220 times during our three year stint in the ‘Lou. While we flew Eva went to Eden Theological Seminary, and Kristin kept us from going insane. It was institutionalized monotony, we flew that same exact schedule every night except Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
The Beechcraft Model 18 had perfect timing. It first flew just before the Second World War broke out. The army bought thousands as trainers, liaison aircraft and light transports. Forgiving of newly minted aircrew and easy to fly, the passenger versions seated from seven to eleven passengers with room for their suitcases in back.
The Eighteen was a ubiquitous small market feeder aircraft; it remained in continuous production in Wichita Kansas for thirty-five years until the ‘69 Crunch and ‘73 Oil Embargo and its resulting inflation briefly killed general aviation manufacture in the United States. Our three were set up as freight haulers. We could carry an honest ton an honest thousand nautical miles. It was a perfect airplane for what we did with it.
Set up for a single pilot; our three aircraft had a “five pack” and a clock centered on the left yoke. To the immediate right of those were stacked the three IFR instruments, then you had a dozen outside condition, fuel and engine gages in the center. It was truly a one-pilot airplane, the passenger sitting in the co-pilot had only a four instrument “T.”
The radios, transponder, fuel selector switches, engine controls, flap and gear levers, and trim controls, were in the middle console. All the of the electrical switches and circuit breakers were on the left side under the instruments.
My flight east to Carbondale (MWA), and on to Evansville (EVV) before returning to Lambert normally took two and a half hours flying time at 140 nautical miles per hour. We were on the ground loading and unloading for about four additional hours. So having left at eleven o’clock I was back on the ground at Lambert before six the next morning.
I spent a few minutes clearing up some paperwork so I could go home and shower at the same time as George. In the same shower as my big brother who had just walked into the hangar as I was putting the last of the completed forms in their appropriate baskets.
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I had to go back to ST.LOUIS to see a close relative that became quite ill. My wife hugged me good-bye and left me feeling horny as always. I don’t know if she even knew that. I think she thinks that since I’m a bit over the hill, I do not get aroused anymore. Little does she know that my cock is always hard as a rock. I got on the road quite early since I knew that in order to reach about halfway, I would have to go about 500 miles the first day. after about 2 hrs., I stopped at a truckstop to...
This picture from a video reminds me of my first visit to “ The Club St. Louis / bathhouse “. After signing in and getting my room key and walking into the place I figured I would find much action since a majority of the guys were younger and much fitter than I. Went to my little private room and stripped down, grabbed my small carry bag and went to the restroom to take care of some personal hygiene. After getting back to my room I went ahead and made sure I was somewhat pre-lubed and packed a...
Some years back I was on business in St Louis and stayed at the Millennium Hotel near the arches. On the first night I was having a drink at the bar in the hotel lobby, you know the kind of thing, after midnight, only a few people there. I was sipping a Jack Daniel's on the rocks when this guy sat near me at the bar and struck up a conversation. He was a black guy, mid twenties, about 5'8" and slim. He has slightly longer dark hair, kind of punky. He said he was staying in town to go to a...
I was just laying in bed thinking of a hot co-worker of mine, Louis, who I’ve wanted to fuck for a while. He’s a tall, well-built guy dripping with sexual energy. I’ve not been shy about showing him how hot I think he is, but I hold back the fact that I think about having his cock in my mouth every time I see him. I want to go into his office, close and lock the door and walk over to him where I sit on the edge of the desk, slowly pull my skirt up to give him a good look at my cleanly shaved...
It had been a long two months. I was retraining factory workers in a small industrial town in Missouri who resented the fact I was trying to help them increase productivity. The guys who had been on the line for 20 to 30 years plus were so resistant that for the first time in my professional career, I had missed my goals (and lost out on several thousand dollars in bonuses from my job).I needed a break.I drove into St. Louis on a Saturday morning and got a hotel room at the airport Holiday...
LETTER FROM ST. LOUIS Dear Shoeblossom... ? I must write you about my tenant, Portia. She seems to have taken over the house... ? I gritted my teeth, kneeling on hands and knees on the kitchen table as Portia's thick razor?strop crashed against my tender bottom. She swung again, and it landed once again, and tears spurted out of my clenched lids. ? ?Can I be a man? Can I take what she's giving out? ? "Remember, Millard" Portia's sweet voice came through, "Be a man, show no reaction." ? Portia...
I had to go back to ST.LOUIS to see a close relative that became quite ill. My wife hugged me good-bye and left me feeling horny as always. I don't know if she even knew that. I think she thinks that since I'm a bit over the hill, I do not get aroused anymore. Little does she know that my cock is always hard as a rock. I got on the road quite early since I knew that in order to reach about halfway, I would have to go about 500 miles the first day. after about 2 hrs., I stopped at a truckstop...
Gay MaleOutside Cadiz, Spain. September 1823 Brigadier General Marcel Defarge greeted me with his usual ferocious scowl when I presented myself at his opulent headquarters, a hacienda outside the village of Port Royal, on the mainland across the lagoon from the besieged city of Cadiz. “I have some news which will delight you, English.” He waved a sheet of paper in his hand. Defarge always referred to me in private as ‘English’. I was not annoyed by the appellation, but hoped one day he would...
Saints Cross Academy is the premiere college preparatory boarding school for the residents of Saint Miller's Crossing for ages (18-20). This schools primary focus is to preparer the newly of age for the rigors of young adulthood. Located a few miles out of Saint Miller's Crossing adjacent to the Federally protected forest lands in the west of town atop of Crucifix Hill. At Saints Academy you will be prepared to enter the workforce or to continue your studies at this institution of higher...
FantasyStella Saint had an erotic dream, which disturbed her every night. She discussed the odd situation with Denise Moore, who persuaded her to enact the dream. Stella agreed to do so at a hotel. Little did she know that someone else had planned to make out with her. Cast of Characters: Major Characters: Stella Saint: Protagonist. Denise Moore: Stella’s friend and an intelligent psychology major. Leona: A lesbian felina. Minor Characters: Jonathan Wood: A businessman and Stella’s...
LesbianI was spending a weekend away with my latest boyfriend Kirk. We had booked into a little B & B on Bath St. and were looking forward to a little romantic time together. Kirk knew all about my past, I think it turned him on just hearing about it! We had enjoyed the day messing about on the boating lake and in the resort’s “Theme Park”, Pleasureland. Being early September, the sun had already set at 7.45pm, as we made our way onto the pier. “ You hungry babe?” I asked Kirk, he nodded , “ we’ll...
[iI was spending a weekend away with my latest boyfriend Kirk. We had booked into a little B & B on Bath St. and were looking forward to a little romantic time together. Kirk knew all about my past, I think it turned him on just hearing about it! We had enjoyed the day messing about on the boating lake and in the resort's "Theme Park", Pleasureland. Being early September, the sun had already set at 7.45pm, as we made our way onto the pier. " You hungry babe?" I asked Kirk, he nodded , "...
Detective Nicholas Saint stood in the bathroom of the Lapeer County Sheriff's station, hands gripping one of the three sinks lining one wall, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, evidence of too much Jack Daniels and too many sleepless nights. His hair was mussed from running his hands through the thick black strands in frustration. He grimaced at the sour taste of cigarettes and over cooked coffee in his mouth. This was too much. He had come home to the...
Those words came to haunt Nick. No identification on either of the victims. They had managed to get fingerprints on victim one. She wasn't in any system that Nick had available to him, including AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. So, whoever she was, she didn't have a record and had never been fingerprinted. It had been impossible to fingerprint victim two. The decomposition had been too devastating, animals had destroyed what the killer hadn't. Dental records weren't...
Michelle pulled her seatbelt a little tighter, not caring if Nick saw it or not. The man drove like a maniac. She had felt safer being in a car with Sam, even though the man was a pervert and lazy as hell. She felt her stomach tighten as the light in front of them turned yellow and he sped up, going through it just as it turned red. "Is this your way of trying to back out?" she asked him through gritted teeth. Nick looked over at her, sitting stiffly in the low slung passenger bucket seat...
The team from the crime lab was still hard at work when Michelle got back to the victim's apartment. They, for the most part, ignored her as she stood in the doorway watching them work. Pictures were being taken, evidence cataloged, fingerprint powder spread over every conceivable surface. The victim's bedroom was dark except for a bright blue spotlight that was slowly going over the surface of the bed. It was amazing to watch. Each member of the team seemed to know exactly what their job...
Hmmm, heaven was built on spicy Szechwan chicken. Michelle popped the last bite into her mouth and sat back on the couch, her hand on her flat stomach. She had changed clothing before sitting down with Nick and the food, putting on a pair of short black leggings and an oversized FBI tee shirt her brother had gotten for her when he went to Quantico for some training classes a few months ago. With her hair pulled up in a long blonde ponytail and no makeup, she looked all of ten years...
The shrill scream of the phone woke her and she reached for it without opening her eyes. She managed to pick it up, fumbled it for a second and then held it to her ear. "Yeah?" she croaked, managing to put in one word her anger that all her longing for sleep, peace and quiet was going down the tubes. "Deputy Parsons?" Oh, shit. She knew that voice. She sat straight up and then gathered the sheet back up over her breasts. "Yes, Sheriff, what can I do for you?" She heard a groan of...
They're putting together a task force, he thought as he rubbed his hands together, almost giggling in delight. A task force in his honor. It was almost like getting an academy award. He did giggle then, thinking about standing at a podium, Nick Saint handing him the head of a dead girl as a trophy. Too delicious. He was down in his laboratory, what he called the underground room where he kept his research. His latest case file was open in front of him letting him relive every glorious...
He sat at his desk, happily writing on lined paper. He was documenting his experiences of the day, the way it had felt to be in that conference room, to know that they were all gathered there for him. He wished he had recorded it somehow, had taken in a mini recorder. Instead he had to rely upon his memories. But that was okay. He remembered how it felt to have Detective Nick Saint shake his hand, talk to him as if he were an equal. The seriousness in the man's voice when he had spoken of...
The move to the new task force headquarters was done with the least amount of fuss possible. No cop cars would be allowed in the parking lot. No one was to know where they were located. Every precaution was to be used to keep this location a secret from the public and the news people. The newsies were getting too brazen and brave as it was. The warehouse was huge inside, with two offices on a second floor. There were two rooms on the first floor, a main warehouse as you walked into the front...
To Michelle, morning had seemed hours ago. Her eyes burned and her head ached but she kept at it, sitting in front of a computer at the task force headquarters. She was inputting what new information they had on the victims, cross referencing for any similarities that might come up, a job Nick had asked her to do. So far they had nothing, but part of police work was getting into the little details. Sometimes the biggest clue they could have would come out of the littlest of details. So she...
That bitch! Rage poured through him making it hard for him to breath. He tore the binoculars from around his neck and threw them against the tree branch he was sitting on. Even the sound of the lens shattering didn't make him feel better. How dare she do this to him. He thought she understood, thought she knew that she was the prize. And the prize was supposed to stay chaste. It was the way the game was played. He pulled at his hair, feeling as if the rage would make him explode. So she...
Roger stood outside the house, watching as the ambulance pulled away, lights going, sirens blaring into the quiet of the night. He gave a silent prayer that Nick would be okay. The he could find Michelle and keep his promise. Damn, how do you come to admire and like someone that you've only known a couple of days. He looked down at the blood covering his hands. Then he felt a hand on his arm. He turned. Stephanie stood there, looking up at him. She was such a tiny thing. No wonder she was...
Cast of Characters: Major Characters: Stella Saint: Protagonist. Denise Moore: Stella's friend and an intelligent psychology major. Leona: A lesbian felina. Minor Characters: Jonathan Wood: A businessman and Stella's boyfriend. Clark Dawson: Denise's classmate. Crewmember: A burly man employed at McDonald's. Lupe: A call girl. Receptionist: A redhead employed at Baisamé Hotel. Stella Saint entered into a well-furnished spacious room. She looked about her. Nobody was there and...
In ancient times, a group of young Futanaris devoted their lives to protecting Athena, the Hermaphrodite Goddess of Wisdom and War. These Futas were capable of fighting without weapons—a swing of their cocks alone was powerful enough to rip the very sky apart and shatter the earth beneath them. These brave heroes became known as Saints, as they could summon up the power of the Cosmos from within themselves. Now, in the present-day, a new generation of Saints is about to come forth. **Toyko,...
FantasyAs I passed through Gallup, I turned north off of 40 and took 264 west instead, wanting to see a bit more than I had been seeing from the freeway. I took a short break to check out Window Rock. The billboards all said it was spectacular and you know what? It really is. Let me give you a hint. If you ever get the urge to get lost, I mean, really, really lost, get on State Road 264 through Arizona. I am so very glad I had snacks, water and two five-gallon gas cans in my truck. If it wasn’t for...
Louisa's mother felt guilty at the sense of relief she felt at being free of her troublesome younger daughter only a couple of days after burying her older sister. Dai Griffiths was surprised to find Louisa sat on the doorstep of his small terraced cottage in Glynneath when he returned home from work at the council recycling centre. "I thought you were supposed to be flying back home to Monaco with your parents today?" he queried. "That's no home!" she retorted. “It’s always...
From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper' ~ "Beauty comes from pain, Louisa. A proper young woman does not present herself unless she is properly coiffed, properly made-up, properly attired and wearing the proper accoutrements. That, Louisa, is what 'proper' means." Of course, I tried to argue. That is, after all, what an adolescent is supposed to do, but my mother would just purse her lips, shake her head in disgust and repeat that one sentence that she spoke most frequently...
From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper' ~ "The summer of 1890 was to be the start of my new life. At fifteen years of age, I was to be presented to society and I had expected that I would then be considered an adult. That, at long last, I would have a say in my own life, my own destiny. That was not to be, though. I was still just a doll to be dressed and used as decoration in the home of my powerful parents. I was made up and dressed and used to impress the visitors who came...
Louisa turned around and looked into the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen. Slowly she became aware of the fact that they belonged to a tall man on the other side of the counter. He was leaning against the counter, with a smile on his face. His hair was almost black and cut very short, and despite the early hour he had a five o’clock shadow on his face. He was wearing a long black winter coat and underneath it she could spot a black jumper with a V-neck that exposed some of his black chest...