This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 13: The Dhow Factor free porn video

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Again, there are some jumps here and there. This is mostly a ‘housekeeping’ chapter, intended to reset and reposition Martin. Also, how are you guys getting on with Red Dead Redemption II? I’m not sure about it. It’s making me brush a horse and forcing me to learn botany. There are also too many squelchy sound effects. Still, it’s the best vacation I can hope for nowadays. Abbeyseeinya!

“Did you have fun?” asked Caroline. She’d heard me fumbling with the key card and opened the door to her room for me before I managed to unlock it.

“What an incredibly annoying guy,” I sighed, as I walked past her and flopped down on her sofa. “Well, maybe not annoying ... Energetic. Talkative. And a bit clingy.”

“Did you get seasick?”

“Nope.”

We’d spent the late afternoon and most of the evening on a Dhow, chartered especially for us. Caroline had bowed out, fearing she might get seasick or even worse, be taken out of signal range and left with a useless phone. And so I had dressed in slacks and a shirt and presented myself at the hotel entrance, to be picked up by Prince Asim in a Maserati I could barely fit in. I must say the guy knows how to lay on a spread. The Dhow was built on a steel frame, but the upper decks were made of dark wood and it looked amazing. The lower deck had windows and was air conditioned, but we mostly sat up top. The crew was very polite and the guy in charge of our food wore blue disposable gloves, which I liked very much. There was cold beer, hidden discreetly in what seemed to be a pirate’s treasure chest, there were a gazillion pillows, there was roast meat and as boys’ nights out go, this was okay. The music was not to my taste, but I didn’t much care. It was either live music by some guys on drums and sitars, which all sounded the same to me, or the latest from Kunthy South and his ilk during their breaks. I preferred the live musicians, even though I had to remember to applaud and smile politely whenever they stopped playing for a while. The staff were clearly used to this sort of thing and knew exactly when to bring new drinks. There was diet Coke, thank Allah, because I certainly wasn’t going to get blotto on a boat with strangers.

Doha looked amazing at sunset. The skyscrapers were visible from miles out, lit up in their various psychedelic colours. It’s not enough to build ‘em high, you have to build them shiny and in weird shapes, with mood lighting. The Sheraton hotel, one of the first landmarks Doha ever had, is located at the far end and stands out because of the pyramid shape and the fact it seems rather small next to the glass-clad behemoths. Several of those buildings were mostly empty and in one or two cases a steel frame had to be pulled down after they ran out of money during construction, because the heat warps bare metal frames over time, but it’s still quite the skyline. I’m quite enamoured of the Tornado Tower, which to me looks more like a vase than a tornado. It’s has a slightly thinner middle and over its emerald green windows runs a lattice of silver strands in a diamond pattern. So very simple and so very, very graceful. The Navigation Tower also has an hourglass figure, only it’s not round but flattened and has no lattice work. It’s breathtaking in the evening sun. Virtually all skyscrapers can be illuminated and this being the Middle East they often are, in garish colours that make Manhattan look positively glum in comparison. They also more or less cancel each other out, like a troupe of beauty queens elbowing each other out of the way to get to center stage. But even so, I love a good skyline. Paris from Tour Montparnasse is great and so is London from The Shard, but Doha is up there, if you can push away the thoughts of all the blood, sweat and tears shed by disposable workers from third world nations. Sadly, that’s a skill we’ve all acquired.

Asim was smoking. I don’t care for water pipes, but they do help set the mood and they had added the smell of apple to the tobacco, which made it much less annoying. Besides, the wind took it all away in an instant. After sunset the sea got a bit choppy, so we moved belowdeck. There was dessert, or maybe I should say more dessert, and I just let Asim do the talking. He had a lot to say, especially about luxury hotels, sports cars, horses, falcons, girls in clubs he’d met and his family. People like to talk about themselves, so I let him. When he asked about me, I could keep it very simple: I was Reginald Carstairs, I served Caroline Keller and managed parts of her business empire and I liked going to museums. He loved hearing my thoughts on what I’d seen at the museum that afternoon and not a word was said about my family, Aston Martin, Kelly or a million other things which would normally have occupied my brain like runaway computer processes hijacking the processor on a laptop. Instead, I coasted at 10 percent, running just the basic services and enjoying the view and the comfy cushions. I complimented him on his English, which felt a bit weird since it’s not my first language either, but at least I had the advantage of English and Dutch sharing the same alphabet and reading direction. My hat is off to any Arab who speaks English, no matter how flawed, because it’s a lot harder than, for instance, learning Spanish when you already know English.

He appreciated the compliment and we found out we both like British comedy series. There wasn’t much of an overlap, because I like the edgier stuff (Monty Python, Alexei Sayle, Spitting Image, Jerry Sadowitz, Hale & Pace, The Mary Whitehouse Experience, Black Books) and he had grown up watching censored versions of series that were already very prim and proper: Only Fools and Horses, Open All Hours, To The Manor Born, Keeping Up Appearances and obviously Mr. Bean. In his youth Saudi TV showed about one hour of English programming per night, for the expat community. Half of that was the English language TV news, which consisted mostly of an overview of the telegrams that the King had received from foreign dignitaries (so called ‘cables of greeting’) and then there was a sitcom from which religious censors had cut out anything that could conceivably be seen as titillating, such as Victor Meldrew arguing in bed with his wife (they’re both retired and in pyjamas, but still) and Hyacinth Bucket kissing her husband goodbye when he’s off to work. Asim was thirty-one, or eleven years my junior, but Saudi Arabia is always a decade or so behind the times. There were no public cinemas either (because men and women would be in the dark together), but VHS tapes from the UK did the rounds and many of those contained comedy series, because those would pass the spot checks from customs officers with relative ease. American tapes were not in demand, as Saudi Arabia uses the PAL system rather than NTSC. He did know Knight Rider, though. And we all know Baywatch, but unlike him I couldn’t be sent to prison for having a VHS tape of it in my room. Mind you, as a Royal he didn’t run much risk either.

It felt a bit odd to be out at sea with an Arab prince, when I could be on my way home to be with my girls and my little boy, but I have to admit it was relaxing. And it had been a while since I’d done any of that. I like being out on the water, especially if navigation is someone else’s problem. I told the prince about my boat and eventually telling him at least something about my personal life became inescapable, or it would have been weird. So I just said I worked for Caroline, which is true, as one of her business managers.

“But can I ask you something? Why you are so popular on the Facebook?” he said, clearly frustrated there hadn’t been an appropriate moment to bring that up.

“Yes, it seems I am. My niece manages that page. I never go near it. But I’ve done an advert, you see. For Three, the telecom provider. That’s how I met Caroline. And that’s why people remember me, sometimes.”

“So you are an actor?”

“Occasionally. I mean, I’ve done some things. But it’s not my big ambition in life. I don’t want to spend my life doing auditions and waiting for months until the next part comes along. I graduated as an economist. Acting just isn’t ... It’s not a real job, is it? It’s not a real life. I don’t need applause. I mean, it’s nice when it happens, but I just want to help Ms. Keller run her company.”

“You should marry her! Then you could have her company for yourself!”

“She’s ... not the marrying kind...” I said, somewhat taken aback by his world view.

I wanted to leave Melody, Kate, Edwin and Kelly out of this. Asim was just a bit too curious for my taste. I was surprised he didn’t know about Fatherland and all the other stuff, but then Facebook moves fast and I’m sure I wasn’t so interesting that he’d trawl through several years of post and messages or whatever it’s called. Timeline, I think.

I do wear a wedding band, but even though I have Mel’s permission to fool around, I’m a bit sentimental and I take it off when I’m intimate with Caroline or ... Well, Caroline. Samantha and Susan were out of the picture these days. And I had left it in my toiletries bag after my first shower, simply because although I am married, Carstairs is not. And I thought the Aston Martin people wanted Reginald, not Martin.

“So are you a religious man?” he asked.

That’s not really a topic for polite conversation in the Netherlands. I’d learned that it is for many Americans, who wear their religion on their sleeves, but for me it’s a question on par with: ‘How often do you masturbate and do you lick the tissue afterwards?’ You may as well ask me if I’m addicted to gambling, if I’ve ever been kidnapped by a UFO or if I beat my wife very often. The answer in all cases is a resounding: ‘No and what the hell do you take me for?!’

I’ve had to deal with it before, though. Koreans can be curious as well. They think it strange that Westerners are prepared to believe there’s a man on a cloud watching them on the toilet and taking notes, but that they don’t believe there’s a dragon in the river that runs past their house. And so when asked I’m Catholic. Nobody ever follows up on that. Which is good, because I don’t know the first thing about it. Besides, atheists are one of the last groups you can freely discriminate against. Just because we don’t believe in God doesn’t mean we worship Satan instead! And I do know right from wrong. I may have faltered once or twice, but I’m told there are one or two pious men in prison. Religion does not guarantee morality. Complacency, certainly. But not morality.

“I’m Catholic.”

“Ah! Not uhm ... C of E?”

“No. But that’s mainly an administrative difference. Any pew in a storm, you know.”

“Good. That’s good. A man should have God in his heart.”

“Well, quite.”

What the hell do you say to that?

“When we were in the cockpit, I wasn’t so sure how you felt,” he went on.

“Yes, well ... Plenty of airplanes went down with religious people on ‘em. I didn’t think prayer would help much.”

It was about time we spoke about what had happened. It probably wasn’t something I would just shrug off in a few days and he was the only person who had been with me every step of the way from the beginning to the end. He didn’t just hold up the iPad: he held me together by giving encouragement when I felt overwhelmed by all those buttons and by allowing me to blow off steam when the fear got a little too close. I’m not sure Caroline could have played that role.

“I did the praying, you did the landing,” he smiled.

“And you held the iPad. And you helped to get those fighter jets off our back. Imagine the panic that would have caused ... And your moral support was invaluable.”

I had stopped saying ‘your Highness’ at his specific request, but I was glad English doesn’t differentiate between a formal and an informal ‘you’, like Dutch, German, French ... Italian ... Klingon ... High Elvish ... Practically all other languages, come to think of it! Each time we address someone we have to choose the right form. If you’re unsure what I’m talking about, imagine that ‘thou’ is the polite form for your elders, customers, your grandparents and, until told otherwise, your in-laws. Bit of a minefield, right? Which the English speaking world has neatly circumvented by making ‘you’ appropriate for anyone from a con artist, a racist, a demagogue or a sexual predator to the president of the United States. And for me as well, because now I could maintain a certain distance without seeming to be standoffish or deferential.

“Yes. But I’m certain I could not have done more. What you did was remarkable, my friend.”

“Thank you.”

“So does your God not say you should ‘go forth and multiply’?”

Wow, hell of a conversation starter! I tried to unsettle him by asking:

“What, right now? I haven’t even finished my drink!”

“No no no, my friend, no! Please, sit down! Just ... I am curious why you devote your life to Miss Keller. She is just your boss, right?”

I suppose I’d made this mess myself. Even though he had a lot to tell me about himself, his plans to start a family, his business empire that did God knows what and his position in the Saudi royal family, he had also been asking about my family from time to time. When I started out by telling him something about my parents I felt he got a bit too interested. That might just be a cultural thing, but there is really no need to go over my dad’s entire professional career, is there? I just brought him up because the daft old codger is always good for an anecdote or two and half an hour later I was still answering questions. So that’s when I decided I wasn’t going to bring up Melody or Edwin and certainly not Kate. I was Carstairs to him anyway, so I just said I worked for Caroline and that took up all my time.

“Miss Keller is my boss and a very dear friend. But that is it.”

“Right. So are you looking for a wife?”

“I had a wife. She died two years ago.”

I won’t say his face turned ashen, but he certainly did the mime. And he was tipsy. Not quite drunk, but certainly unfit to drive. I think he considered hugging me for a second.

“Oh I am sorry, my friend! I am so sorry!”

“That’s quite alright.”

I could talk about my dead wife, no problem. I behaved shamefully at her funeral, but I have also grieved for Monique since that day. It came a bit later than expected, one night just after Kelly had gone to bed in our house in Van Nuys. Samantha inadvertently triggered it by saying:

“You could have had a daughter her age by now.”

And that’s what made me do some sums in my head and before I knew it my life with Monique thundered past my mind’s eye in an unstoppable film, in Panavision and Dolby Surround. I joke about her more than perhaps I should, but there were good times, too. Lots of them, especially in the beginning. I wouldn’t have started my own business as early as I did if not for her, or hired my first employees. She pushed me into unknown territory, but I never had to go it alone. Monique pored over the lease for my first office and came up with seven questions for the property manager I’d never have thought of. She did part of my admin for the first year and not a single invoice was left unpaid, even if they were only for a few hundred or thousand guilders at the time. And so poor Sam suddenly saw me collapse into a heap of sadness and had a very long night ahead of her as I properly grieved for Monique for the first time ever.

But that was all over and done with now, so I told Asim about her and left out all the bad bits.

“She sounds wonderful. I am sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it. But to answer your question: I won’t be marrying Mrs. Keller.”

“No, of course not. It is too soon.”

“And to answer your other question, the unspoken one: yes, I do like women.”

He grinned and leaned in to slap my shoulder.

“Ha ha ha! Well, you see ... Such a well-dressed gentleman, a servant to a woman ... I was just curious.”

“No, I get it.”

“But why did you tell me your were her ... what was it? Not butler ... Waiter?”

“Valet.”

“Valet! Yes! But you run her business!”

“Not all of them. She has an interest in dozens of business. I run one business unit and I’m in charge of the IT department for the moment. And I get her a cup of tea from time to time, or carry a suitcase. She has been very good to me in my hour of need, so I don’t mind. When people think you’re just a butler, or a valet, they say all sorts of things they wouldn’t tell you otherwise. It comes in handy from time to time.”

I seemed to have finally stumbled onto the story that Asim wanted to believe: that it was just a ruse, that a real man wouldn’t actually be a servant to a woman.

“Yes! Of course! It is a disguise! Very clever!”

“Exactly.”

The skipper came up to us.

“Excuse me, gentlemen ... We can stay out as long as you wish, but I have to inform the port authority of our plans. What shall it be?”

“Oh I don’t...” began Asim. And then, as if he’d only just thought of it, he asked:

“Carstairs? If you like, I can have some lady friends join us?”

I’m a bit slow on the uptake in matters such as these, so I considered what that might mean and which women he was referring to. And so the first thing I said was:

“Oh dear God, don’t tell me you had girls waiting in the cargo hold all this time!”

The skipper seemed offended, but Asim hurriedly said:

“No, no! They are waiting in the hotel. In the lounges. We can send for them, or dock at one of the hotels to pick them up. It should not take long for two or three of them to get here. We just have to be discreet, you know. I have to make a few phone calls.”

And that’s when I decided I’d had enough.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. It’s much too soon for me. You can drop me off anywhere if you wish to spend some time with your lady friends, but I should prefer to return to my hotel. Miss Keller and I have a busy day ahead of us.”

“Yes, no, of course, I see! No problem!”

He said something in Arabic and the skipper disappeared, walking backwards until he hit the door.

“We are going back. It has been great meeting you, Carstairs.”

And that’s where we left it. We were twenty minutes out and spent it on the upper deck, taking in the view until we docked near the museum. It was a very short ride in Asim’s car back to the hotel. We shook hands, said nice things and then I returned to Caroline’s room.

“Did you get seasick?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Did you throw anyone off the ship?”

I chuckled.

“No...”

“Did you rescue a dolphin? Or a crew member?”

“Nothing of the sort. I had a pleasant evening on a lovely ship with a great view and some nice food. And the prince isn’t a bad egg, even though he’s got a terrible case of affluenza. But he’s hardly the only one around here.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sure the prince has better manners than you. Now, do you suppose I’m going to have to handcuff you to the bed? Or shall we just throw up a barricade with the furniture before we turn in?”

“Relax. I’m usually good for weeks when I’ve had an episode. And I’m nice and relaxed now. Are you ... tired?”

Suddenly all the sarcasm was gone. She came up to me and started to undo my tie.

“Not at all...”

“Only I thought you said something about being ‘good until 2020’ and I wouldn’t want to...”

“Oh do shut up. We don’t have many sleepovers as it is, and I’m not going to waste this night. Would you mind awfully having a quick shave and a shower? And I’ll do the same.”

“What, you’ll have a quick sha ... oooooooh! Yes!”

I slept better that night. In fact, I checked the label on the mattress and made a note to replace my IKEA ‘Morgedal’ with one of those. Mind you, I’ve done that before and then I get home and can’t be arsed to actually deal with all that. Throw out an old mattress? That involves a trip to the council depot, and I don’t have a station wagon. I’d have to clear out Mel’s van and that’s an afternoon of work for starters. Besides, it’s a rip-off, isn’t it? Mattresses. Unbelievable markups. That’s why fly-by-night mattress stores always appear when a shop goes out of business. And mattress manufacturers change their names more often than Polish hookers, so you’ll never be able to find them if you want to use the warranty. And they’re all comfortable if you try them for two minutes after a busy afternoon of shopping for furniture, aren’t they? Besides, I don’t just sleep on them. And I’m hardly going to dry-hump Melody in the middle of the showroom, her legs around my neck, to see what the mattress is like when my full weight is resting on my knees. So you have a lie down, make sure it’s not sagging, pay three or four times over the odds and hope for the best because unless the thing catches fire it will have to last me until I move house.

Caroline was already up, of course. She has a bit of a hang-up about being seen ‘without her face’, even though I’ve had a look when she was asleep and there’s nothing wrong with it. Besides, we’ve showered together and had sex with the lights on, and I distinctly remember seeing her face then as well. Kate says Caroline does yoga in the morning and it makes her fart, which is the real reason she’s always somewhere else. I’ve never tried yoga but Mel and Kate have and I hear the farting is a real problem, so I choose to believe that version and every time I wake up in a bed without Caroline I giggle as I imagine her on all fours in another room, tearing one off in sweatpants and that’s a very nice way to start the day.

She came to look for me in the shower, fully dressed in a ‘midi’, a tunic that was black and white split vertically right down the middle. It covered her shoulders and her knees and there wasn’t a single button or zipper on the thing, nor any sort of cleavage. Pure fucking class, mate. I saw her in the mirror, because she didn’t just storm into the bathroom. Actually she did, but it was so large it was more or less a bathroom in a bathroom, if that makes any sense. She waited behind a corner.

“Martin?”

“Good morning! Love the outfit! Be right out!”

“Thank you, dear! I’m popping out for an hour or so. Breakfast is ready for you in my room.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have some errands to run. Is this a good time to talk you through the day?”

“Uhm ... I’m kinda ... naked?”

“Will you be long?”

“Just another minute. Would you mind laying out a suit for me?”

“Certainly.”

I towelled off and stepped into the room. There was no suit waiting on the bed, but another casual outfit. Caroline was folding some of my clothes.

“What’s this?”

I picked up a garish pair of swimming trunks and a dark blue shirt.

“Your attire for today. I suggest you head down to the pool and just relax for a while. It really is quite pleasant. I’ll join you later.”

“Is that an order?”

“No, dear! Just a suggestion. Do you really need a reason to have a day off? I can give you several, based on your posture alone. Or I could bring up the whole ‘you saved five hundred people’ thing again. Would that do? Oh, if only I knew what John Calvin might have said in these circumstances. ‘For God’s sake, man! Take the bloody day off,’ I’d imagine.”

“I am not a Calvinist,” I mumbled, admiring the trunks. I’d bought a similar pair in Los Angeles, mainly to annoy Kelly. Mine had parrots on them. These had cartoonish swashbuckling sailors and a treasure chest on the back. Talk about booty.

“Not the religious part, certainly. But other than that...”

Why was I having an argument in my hotel room before breakfast? I wanted to give her a piece of my mind, but then I noticed a twinkle in her eye and a wrinkle in the corner of her mouth that only shows when she smiles, even though she wasn’t.

“Are you having a laugh?”

She allowed herself to smile and came up to me for a brief hug.

“Yes. You’re on vacation, Martin. Oh, that reminds me: we have been neglecting your exercises, so we shall do them when I get back. The pool is a bit irregular in shape, but thirty minutes of swimming should do. It’s probably not very busy right now, but a very pleasant twenty-six degrees. Now don’t forget your breakfast and bring your phone down to the pool. They’ll keep it for you at the bar when you’re in the water. Must dash!”

“You’re KIDDING! You’re making me do my bloody...”

The door closed behind her.

“ ... exercises...” I sighed. And then I had sodding avocado on toast. It’s not so bad, really. Except for the taste and the texture and it not being a chocolate croissant, that is.

Caroline was right: the outside pool area of the Four Seasons in Doha is very pleasant indeed. They’ve aimed for something with a tropical vibe. There were plenty of sunbeds, many of them under wood-beamed roofs for a bit of shade. No big square or rectangular pool here, but several connecting grotto-style pools (thankfully I found a brochure, because I’d never have thought of that description) with different elevations. You can swim underneath bridges, get splashed by a waterfall or just float around. Local expats can buy tickets and spend the day there. There’s a lot of staff and you’re never short of a towel or a drink. And if you like, you can stroll to the beach and have a swim in the Gulf, although there is a marina right next to it so it’s probably best not to go in too far, or you may be ripped to shreds by a boat propellor. I settled down in one of the lazy chairs in the shade, gave my phone to a very friendly uniformed pool attendant and dutifully began to swim from end to end for about half an hour. My route was a bit circuitous, but that was actually a lot more fun than swimming up and down the basement of Keller & Fox head office. People are always a bit weary of single men in pool areas, but I stayed away from everyone else, never even making eye contact. It wasn’t very busy, anyway.

As soon as I’d settled down in my sun chair, wondering what to do with the rest of the morning, the pool attendant brought my phone. They’re called ‘wellness agents’, by the way.

“You have a missed call, Sir. I couldn’t find you in time.”

“That’s okay. Can I have a...”

Oh dear ... I wanted tea. I always want tea. I’d look a right fool with a steaming cuppa when it was almost thirty degrees, wouldn’t I?

“Yes, Sir?”

“Can I have hot, black tea in a glass? With an umbrella? So people won’t think I’ve gone barking mad?”

Props to the Four Seasons staff: he didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Certainly, Sir.”

The missed call was from Kelly. I had remembered to bring my headset so I felt I could call her back as long as I kept my voice down. I used FaceTime, because I had a wi-fi connection. She answered after one ring. I could tell she was at her parents’ house, on the settee.

“Hi, Martin!”

“Hi, gorgeous.”

She giggled. Kate’s laughter is the most beautiful sound I know, but Kelly’s is right up there.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve just had a swim and now I’m having tea by the pool. Or I will be, soon.”

I showed her the pool and the palm trees.

“Ooooh! Jealous! It’s raining here.”

“I’ll bet. So what’s new?”

“Well, if you’ve got a minute? I wanted to discuss a few things.”

“Sure.”

“It’s about Carstairs’ Britain. I’m trying to set up locations, but it’s not working out so well.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Because half the places where I want to film are owned by the National Trust or some similar organisation. Cliveden House, Waddesdon manor, even Stone Henge and the Giant’s Causeway are National Trust properties!”

“I’m not surprised. I mean, someone’s gotta manage them.”

“Well, they certainly do. You have to get permits to shoot there and they’re very expensive. Never mind if you want the place to yourself for a day or so: you have to plan that almost a year in advance so they can advertise that it will be closed on the day, and you have to compensate their revenue. We don’t have twenty-thousand in the budget just so that you and I can stroll through Belton House.”

“I see. So it’s a matter of finding other locations.”

“Good luck with that. It’s the same everywhere else. Bletchley park, Danesfield House, Kew gardens, Salisbury Cathedral ... You can’t even walk along ruddy Hadrian’s wall without a permit, if you’re a film crew. About the only places of historical interest where we can shoot for free are Blackpool sands, Brighton Pier and Dartmoor. Not much of a story there, though.”

Kelly was talking about the documentary series we’d been hoping to shoot this summer. During our last appearance on the Graham McAfee show we had more or less promised the great British public we’d be back and we felt it might be nice if Kelly and Carstairs explored the rich history of the United Kingdom together. Kelly had taken it upon herself to write twelve scripts, or at least find twelve locations and list what we might talk about. She seemed really enthusiastic about it and Kate was able to tell her what information she would need to include to work out a budget. Based on that, a production team would then take over.

“I’m sorry to hear all this, Kelly. I know you’ve put in a lot of work. But I’m sure we can find a lot of interesting places if we stick our heads together. Kate told me British Rail is always willing to help with film shoots, to get some good PR. And I’m sure any number of museums will welcome us for some extra publicity. We can film there in the evenings.”

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The last time I was at Hamad I had been escorted off the plane soon after landing. This was much better. For some reason we didn’t use a jetway to get into the terminal building, so I was treated to a blast of the familiar heat of Doha. It felt strangely comforting, for some reason. It’s not quite the same as the heat of Los Angeles, or Las Vegas. Maybe it was because we were so near the sea. For the first few seconds it felt a bit like a warm hug. Isn’t that odd? An airport bus drove us to...

1 year ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 18 Teach her a Lesson

I suppose it’s only normal that you take on the English accent to which you are most often exposed. In my case it started when BBC 1 and 2 were made available on the Dutch cable network. I loved almost every show they put on and that shaped my theretofore rather unremarkable Dutsj Ekssent. Well, Lexy grew up watching shows and films like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Beverly Hills 90210, Clueless, The Twilight Saga and related TV trash. Not every character on those shows speaks Valley Girl, but...

1 year ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 2 I Spy With My Tired Eye

Saturday June 27th, 2015. Dallas Road, Ealing. “Good morning.” “You’re up early?” said Kelly, who I found scooping yoghurt into a bowl of muesli when I sauntered into the kitchen. She’d spent the night at my house, in her own room. “Are you kidding? It’s five minutes past eight! I’ve been staring at the ceiling for half an hour, trying to get back to sleep.” “Well, give it another go. Or give me ten minutes and I’ll come and wear you out.” “Cheeky cow,” I muttered, as I filled the tea...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 8 Now Pay Attention 327

I signed another document and followed Miles into a cavernous space, which was rather dark. Two men in lab coats scurried away. Miles waited until they were gone and then flipped a switch on the wall near the door. Bright lights in the ceiling clacked on and unveiled a turning plateau with a car under a black tarp. I could see the tyres, but not much else. Miles and Hugo shot each other a look and grinned. “Carstairs! Your new vehicle! Feel free to do the honours.” I stepped onto the...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 10 Come on Saudi Letrsquos Go Party

I woke up around eight in the morning, an hour later than I’m used to. I walked to the other side of the house, to Asim’s bedroom, and heard snoring. That was good. I had a quick yet annoying shower and took some time to spruce myself up. I’m not one of those men who are completely hopeless when they’re single, but what with Mel being a professional make-up artist and hairstylist, amongst many other talents, I rarely needed to groom myself nowadays. But now I was spending time shaving around...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 26 Si Vis Pacem Nolite Exacerbare Carstairs

It was about ten minutes to showtime. I’d be at the mosque in three minutes or so, although K-T would drop me off at the mall entrance and then proceed to another destination. We were making good time, because although some traffic kept moving, many cars just pulled to the side of the road wherever there was space near a mosque. Sometimes cars were abandoned in the middle of the road, blocking each other in. The police never made a fuss: after all, everyone was supposed to be praying. Men...

4 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 2 Mosque you bring this up

Kelly was very quiet on the ride home, but fortunately (and I use the word fortunately as in: ‘I have learned to live with this as a project in personal growth’) my driver, Ali, has absolutely no problems filling a gap in any conversation. Even when no actual conversation is presently occurring. Kate texted with Melody about the contents of our fridge, so I could prepare a shopping list. Okay, so I’m now officially a guy who pulls up at a Waitrose in a chauffeur driven car, but then I buy...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 4 Ask Me No Questions

Still Monday July 7th, 2015. A government building somewhere in London. (smiled.oddly.hosts) I was made to sit alone in a room for about ten minutes, so ordered by a man who clearly had no intention of getting me a cup of tea. And I did ask, twice. He was a bit shorter than me, but also a bit wider. Instead of a suit he wore something that was supposed to give him a military look but made me think of a fisherman: a brown shirt, brown carpenter pants, army boots. He was ginger, but his hair...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 9 In Which our Hero has Lots of Dates

“Crank up the A.C, sweetheart. Let me get some water ... Oooaaahhh...” “Sweetheart? Again?” “Yes. I suddenly cared for you in the wilderness, in the land of great drought. And especially for that bag with bottled water. Let’s get a move on. You drive.” “Destination?” “The most expensive hotel in Al Hofuf. Unless you can find one with a charger?” “I cannot execute that search. We will reach Al Hofuf in two hours.” “Okay. Then I’ll do a search and you drive. Stop at the next empty rest...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 14 In Which our Hero Sings for his Supper

If you’re anything like me (but maybe you got lucky and you’re not) you’ll know this feeling: there will be something on the news that makes you explode with rage. Say, some idiot gets behind the wheel, drunk as a skunk, kills three people who were just standing at a bus shelter minding their own Instagram and then he sues the bus company for placing the shelter near a pub. That sort of thing. Or a Belgian man locks up some girls in his basement and starves a couple of them to death before he...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 19 Cooling Down in Riyadh

They waited until her heart stopped pumping blood, which took about twenty seconds or so. Then the pressure got too low, and the trickle stopped. Two men dressed more like medics than soldiers came out of the main building with a stretcher. They wore gloves and aprons. Hurriedly they placed the body on the stretcher. The executioner helpfully placed the bag with the head above the neck, but only after he was done wiping down the blade and carefully sliding it back into its sheath. The Imam...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 20 Unexpected Benefit of Some Religious Instruction

There were also some messages. One was from Mr. Constable, the MI6 officer at the embassy. He told me they had analysed the recording, but that I’d have to come to the embassy to read the transcript. By appointment. But not on Thursdays. Another message was a transcript of a text message from Asim, which contained an invitation to join him on his next visit to Dubai. It seemed he was in the mood to catch a movie, and Dubai had cinemas. Well, two. The third message consisted of a somewhat...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 25 I had a Cunning Plan

Sunday, 30/8/2015. Saudi Royal palace. My day started slowly, with breakfast being served without any extra items. I called on Anaïs with an eye on a cheeky kiss or a bit of a fondle, but was told by a rather indignant Malaysian chef who caught me looking around in her kitchen that she had been seconded to another palace for the next few days, to help prepare for yet another banquet. He then demanded to know how I knew her and what my business was with her, but I just told him I was acting...

2 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 11 Game Check Point

I’ve never been one to make much of a fuss over cars. I mean, I enjoy comfy seats and power steering as much as anyone and it has been said I’m a tiny bit obsessive over vehicular cleanliness, but by and large I am not very interested in the roar of an engine or how many horse power it has. So it was odd I found myself so completely enthralled by this Aston Martin Vanquish. Not just the paint job, which was a deep, dark, shiny, sparkly, magnificent blue, but the stitching on the seats, the...

1 year ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 3 There is an I in MI6

I was met by Kelly in the hallway. “Hi,” she said, leaning in for a kiss. A chaste one, on the cheek. More than enough for me, thanks. Although admittedly I’d have been disappointed with less than that. “Hello, gorgeous. I think you might have come at an awkward...” “Oh, I know. I was summoned. Caroline has been here all afternoon. She even had a lie down, because of a headache. Mel and Kate know everything.” It was ominously quiet on the other side of the door that led to the living...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 21 The Ugliest Laptop Ever Made

I woke up at nine, which was fine except a bit too late to attend the buffet in the main building. Never mind: I called the kitchen again and ordered breakfast. It would take a while to reach me, but as long as I didn’t order any hot items that was fine. Yoghurt, a bun and some jam would do me. I selected a suit and showed up just in time for my daily session with Alexandra. Technically this was the start of a new week, although neither I nor Alexandra got any days off. It was crunch time...

1 year ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 12 The Stein Way

As meetings go, I’ve had worse. I had no particular reason to doubt John Stein, but you never know what Americans are really up to. The Saudi government is only one of many undemocratic regimes they support to the hilt. They’re also not particularly interested in bringing people to justice. Generally all they need is a set of coordinates, a license plate number or the exact time their target will be driving past a hospital or day care centre. I was fairly sure a couple of terrorist attacks in...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 23 The Beginning of the End

Tuesday, August 25th, 2015. My garage. Total.hilltop.digital. It was about one a.m. when the door to the garage opened and K-T rolled in. I had called ahead, to let Anaïs know that I was fine and on my way. “How are you doing?” “I am drinking water and eating uh ... Maltezers. Very poor chocolate.” “Yes, it’s English chocolate. Could be worse, though.” “Hershey...” she shuddered. “Exactly. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Can you hang on?” “I can go nowhere else, Anglais. It is...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 5 My name is Carstairs Reginald Carstairs

Caroline summoned me to my office on Friday. My ticket for travelling the next Monday had just been arranged. I was actually discussing something with Daphne, which always takes a while, but Alice, her secretary, was quite clear: I was to report to the fourth flour at once. “Sorry about that, but I think you got the gist of it. Winston will certainly be able to flesh out the code. It will give you a chance to hang out together.” “I still want to know why you’re leaving,” said Daphne, trying...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 22 Say it Donrsquot Spray It

I went over the call with Kate in my head, slightly upset at the fact I had broken off our conversation just to get out of the heat. Maybe it hadn’t been the heat so much as the fact I didn’t want to be reminded of how much I missed her. That girl isn’t just catnip to me: she’s oxygen. And every time we were apart, there was nothing for it but for me to practice holding my breath. I also worried about the fact people had started to miss me, all over sodding Doctor Who! It’s the shittiest...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 24 Mosque Not Get Caught

Friday, August 28th, 2015. Royal palace, guest annex. The next morning I called Asim and offered to cook for him, so I’d be able to intercept any packages that might be delivered to his house. He was glad to have me and I took delivery of five boxes while he was out. I made us roast duck (honey roasted, with creamed cauliflower) and an old-fashioned trifle and then I stole one of his outfits: guthra, igal, thobe and sandals. Two thobes, actually, just to be sure. He only had fourteen left, I...

3 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 28 All Out of Gum and Ass to Kick

Darkness had come and gone. Musa and I had worked all through the night. When I had answers to all the questions I could think of, and had copied the contents of the SD-cards to my laptop to make space on one of them, I had written a script for him to read. It was based on what he had told me, but we still went through it line by line. By that time he was struggling to stay conscious. The wounds on his wrists in particular hurt terribly, so much in fact that I had to cut him loose and bandage...

3 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 14 Therersquos no office like the Home Office

The trip back home was luxurious but uneventful. I had taken Caroline out to dinner for our last night in Doha, after an afternoon spent in Souq Waqif. I liked it there, because even though it was rather sanitized, there was more than enough to see, smell and taste. Sure, one or two of these hole in the wall shops sold the inevitable Gucci handbags, but it was actually fun to learn from Caroline how to spot fake goods. “Take this GG canvas horse bit hobo bag,” she said, while the salesman...

4 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 12 Next Contestant Please

Hi! This story contains some sudden scene transitions. This seems to confuse many of you. In the print version these jumps are clear(er) because only new paragraphs get a blank line. However, on this site every hard return gets a blank line. Fixing this would require going through the entire book to add the right display codes, and I can’t be bothered. So if you’re suddenly confused, just go back a few lines and you’ll likely figure it out. Cheers! RD. On the way out I shook quite a few...

3 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 5 lsquoWell I can see who wears the trousersrsquo

So there I was, in a homeless shelter somewhere in Rome, with a nun, a priest, my wife and the head of the Catholic church. So the bartender says... Okay, there was no bartender. Too bad, because this was supposed to be a vacation, damn it! A honeymoon! But what do I get? I get to go from one potential aneurysm to the the next! Someone walks in on me fucking my wife! Then there’s an orgy in my apartment! I seem to be on a painting made well before I was even born and to cap it off THE...

2 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 4 Begin the legume

“Okay, so maybe it’s me. I’m on TV, sometimes. I did a movie. Someone made a painting and thought of me. Or they saw an ad or something. This happens to Emma all the time.” Melody shook her head. “Except in her case they Photoshop her face onto pornography. That’s her actual face, not a portrait. This is one, and it’s fairly well done. The painter wasn’t very experienced, but certainly talented. I’d say he used a live model, not just one reference picture.” When Melody says these things,...

3 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 6 Whatrsquos in a Name

“Martin, get up. It’s gone ten. The Pope has been up for over five hours, you know.” “Good for him. Show-off.” “You’ll miss breakfast!” “I told you: get them to deliver a tray to the room.” “I don’t want to eat in the room! I want to eat on the rooftop terrace again! Come on, you can’t stay in bed all day!” “Yes, I can. I’m on vacation.” I was being truculent, although I like to think it was in a playful way that women secretly find boyish and charming. Mel would probably not agree. Nor...

4 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 3 When in Rome

I knew Mel was all talk when she said she could easily leave Edwin in Caroline’s care. But I didn’t blame her. I just sat on the couch, next to Peter Fox, in Caroline’s luxurious apartment on the corner of Hyde Park, just over the Aston Martin dealership. He lived there now, on a trial basis. “It’s a much shorter commute,” was all he said about that. I knew his home. The man liked marble statues, preferably with a penis or at least a six-pack. (No replicas of David, then.) He liked Persian...

2 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 17 The Faint Light at the End of It

Well, there we are: the final chapter. You have until January 1st to read this story before I make it available to premium members only. Your comments are welcome and if you find you like this sort of thing: there’s plenty more available on my site. – RD It rained. I think it should rain, at funerals. Most people stood under black or transparent umbrellas, but I wore a Macintosh over my black suit and I just didn’t care. I needed to focus on not crying. Rain on my face might help to conceal...

3 years ago
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This Is Your Carstairs SpeakingChapter 16 Deep underground

All was well until we arrived at Paddington. It was busy, but not too busy for the crowd to give us half a second so we could lift Edwin’s stroller over the infamous gap and onto the platform. But then there’s an escalator, a fairly long one that leads back to street level. You see, the track slopes downward from Edgware road to Paddington. Trains aren’t generally good at inclinations, but it’s a fair distance between those stations. One of the escalators was being serviced: a man in a blue...

2 years ago
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Fem Factor

Fem Factor By Jennifer White With the advent of "reality" TV shows, the networks scrambled to add show after show where real people are put into difficult situations, while being filmed. One of the popular ones was Fear Factor, where people had to face their fears, such as the fear of falling, wild animals, spiders, and more. However, some fears are even more extreme than what that show could offer. For that reason, an even new, more extreme show was introduced: Fem...

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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 15 In Which our Hero Comes out of the Closet

Right. How to get to deck four, and more specifically into Omar’s private quarters? Doors wouldn’t be a problem: only the guest rooms had those card readers. Deck four was for family only. No, my problem was with the guards. One had already denied me access once. But there was that lift near the pantry, so that’s where I was now headed. I passed the Sayada lounge, where two guards eyed me as if I was going to take out my dick then and there and burst into the room, turned a corner and found a...

4 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 16 And Now the End Is Near

I had to put my jacket back on in the hallway, so quickly was I ejected from the kitchen. Two phones really weighed it down, but if the Professor had recorded the meeting, I was sure my spymasters would want me to hang on to it. The pen had served its purpose, so that went into the water as soon as possible. And then I felt really odd for a minute. A man was dead right now, because of me. He was hardly the first, but it was different from all the other deaths I have caused. I planned this,...

4 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 11 My French connection

I like to think I’m a decent man. I don’t leer at women, not even when I’m absolutely sure they’re not watching. I don’t turn around to check out ‘cabooses’, I don’t call women ‘darling’ unless I know them very well indeed and by and large you can trust me with your daughter. Unless she’s REALLY insistent and/or has grown legs and breast that make Marilyn Monroe look like a coat hanger. But even then I try really, really hard to ignore that. But being in a country where women were nothing...

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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 13 Irsquom something of an Esobe myself

When Asim and I came home, it was as if nothing had ever happened. I examined the lock, but that was only because my instructors had told me it’s a good habit to see if you can spot the scratches most lock-pickers leave. This guy was good: there were no scratches at all. I also reviewed the footage from my spy-cam, but learned nothing more. I also had no idea what prince Omar had been doing in other parts of the house, because I only had enough gear to monitor my own room. By the looks of...

2 years ago
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Carstairs of ArabiaChapter 27 It Only Hurts When I Laugh

As soon as the rolling door had shut behind me, I began to undress. The plastic segments that allowed in some sunlight were so badly scuffed nobody would be able to see inside. Not unless they pressed their face up against them, anyway. My suit was in tatters. I wasn’t even sure why I wasn’t wearing my slacks and button down shirt. It’s think it may just be that wearing a suit seemed suitable for the occasion. If you’re going to commit mass murder, you should at the very least dress for it,...

2 years ago
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Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen

Indru tamil kama kathaiyil ilamaiyaana magalum pinbu vithavai ammavaiyum eppadi usar seithu matter poten endru ungaluku solugiren. Suvarasiyam athigam irukum kama kathaikul selalam vaarungal, en peyar karthik. En veethiiyil oru pen ilamaiyaaga sexiyaaga irupaal, avalai thinamum sight adithu kondu irupen. Thinamum aval kalluri sendru varum pozhuthu iru velaiyilum sight adika arambithu viduven. Aval peyar nandhini vayathu 21 irukum, avaluku veetil aan thunai kidaiyaathu. Veetil oru amma iru...

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The Saga of Tuck Chapter 11 Tucker Factor

-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Tucker Factor Copyright 1997 by Ellen Hayes. No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when used for...

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Thelma and her brother

Note : This story is completely fictional!In nineteen forty six Thelma Lou Anderson was married with three kids. Linda was the oldest. She was sixteen. Guy and George was ten and Guy seven. Thelma owned a beauty shop in Kansas City. She suspected her husband Lawerance was cheating on her again. She followed him one day when he thought she was at work and saw him go into a house. A woman opened the door and he went in. That was all the proof she needed. She went home and packed her suitcase and...

Incest
3 years ago
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The Passion of Mother Ethel

Mother Ethel always enjoyed the short walk to the train station. It was beautiful Autumnal morning and Mother Ethel took the opportunity to walk to the train station as she knew that she had a very busy day ahead. Those that saw Mother Ethel along the way bowed reverently,they knew that Mother Ethel was a Nun of the Monastery of Repentance and when a Nun or a Monk walked past it was polite to bow, for many knew what the Nun's and Monk's of the Monastery were capable of. As Mother Ethel strolled...

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Dot Dorothea and Dick

Dot, Dorothea, and Dick Chapter One Dear sister: I found this letter among some others, scrolled up and tied with purple ribbon, in a chest belonging to our great grandfather. The name Charles has belonged to several in our family line, but I believe I know the one who received and saved this letter, and kept it preserved for so many years. I believe the letter speaks for itself, so I will now offer it up to you. Dearest Charles: I hope this missive finds you in such good...

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My Golden Summer with Blythe Ch 01

Our Last Day of School. I can’t believe it. This is my last day of school, I thought, not sure how I felt now that the long awaited day was here. Stepping out into the beautiful sunny afternoon, heading toward the group of waiting yellow school buses I breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad school was finished. Throughout High School like a ship at sea, I had plotted my course, studying hard. However, the Scholarship that many felt I had rightfully won had somehow ended up going to one of...

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“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”Anthea looked up at her mum as she sat down at the dining table. “Nothing is wrong,” Anthea responded watching as her mum hurriedly dried her hands with a tea towel.“Is the baby okay? Are you okay? Is Jack okay?” she asked as her husband came into the room and pulled up a seat at the table.“We’re all fine Mum,” she responded exasperated with her mum’s anxiety. “I have something to tell you.”“Sit down Helen,” her dad snapped. “Give the lass a chance to speak.”Anthea...

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My Golden Summer with Blythe Ch 02

My Golden Summer with Blythe – Part 2 Josh’s childhood dream girl visits him in San Francisco. The Return of Blythe Coming from a small farming community, San Francisco proved to be everything Josh had ever imagined – and then some. He loved the freewheeling atmosphere – the friendliness – in short, he fell in love with the city by the Bay. Because of early retirements, and dedication to his work, he had advanced much quicker than he had ever expected. Arriving at his chic little Apartment...

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Uther

Uther By Ellie Dauber (c) 2006 Introduction According to the legends of King Arthur, Merlin changed Uther Pendragon into a double for Duke Gorlois, so he could spend the night with Ygraine, the Duke's wife. Ygraine and Gorlois had three daughters: Elaine, Morgause, and Morgan le Faye. During their time together, Ygraine became pregnant with the child who was to become King Arthur. Uther's men killed Gorlois that same night. This is my TG (of course) version of what...

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Fallen Angel Chapter 11 Althea the School Girl

Chapter 11: Althea, the School Girl The infernal screeching of the alarm clock awoke Cal from his reverie. He had been up for about a half-hour, but he had only been lying in bed next to the love of his life. Althea's arms were still clutched about him as he stealthily clicked the snooze button, assuming that it was six o' five in the morning, his usual waking time during the school week. He had been thinking long and hard about the previous two nights. Evan... what have you become? He...

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The Frustration Factor

THE FRUSTRATION FACTOR!ByANNE GRAYMeter Level One - Establishing A Base Line!As far as I was concerned she was a pseudo submissive.  She played at being a sub’, and probably was to an extent, but only when she was calling the shots.  I figured her out within the first couple of play sessions we did and knew she was constantly guiding the scene to her own advantage and topping me from the bottom.I was too much of a professional not to be a little disgusted with myself that I continued to allow...

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Axis of Evil 6 The XX Factor

The XX Factor Adam was testing Liam's new security system. He was wearing his new bodysuit. The new girl had been christened April Scott, courtesy of a new driving licence and passport that Desmond Wilkes had given him earlier. She entered the MI6 building and headed up to the desk with her MI6 pass around her neck, nestled nicely between her voluminous breasts. Suddenly the alarms began making a piercing noise and the screens behind the reception desk started to show the word FAKE...

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The Devils Pact Sidestory Miss Blythe Is Hot for Her Students

edited by Master Ken Wednesday, September 4th, 2013 "Hi, I am Miss Blythe," I said to my class, writing my name on the whiteboard with a red dry-erase marker. "I will be your World History teacher." It was the first day of the new school year and, as I launched into the course syllabus, my thoughts kept drifting to that day in June at the end of the last term, when my Living God, the Holy Mark Glassner, walked into this very classroom and changed my very outlook on life. I didn't know...

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The Taboo Sex Factor

All characters and terms including ‘boy’ ‘lad’ and ‘girl’ refer to people age 18 and over.A talent contest had come to town. It was called This Town’s Got Talent. It was an adult talent contest and that proper excited Alden. Nobody under the age of 18 was allowed to audition. Nobody under the age of 18 was allowed either on stage or in the audience, which meant anything goes. Alden thought he’d give them something completely different, something they hadn’t seen before. He was going to sing...

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The First Affair Chapter 3 by X Factor

This is a story written by one of my fellow authors, X-Factor, on Literotica. Guys ask what I like to masturbate to or do before having sex. Reading this is one thing I do, along with some others.Erin went to sleep that night, and realized that she thought more about how good that big cock felt inside her, than she did feeling guilty. She chastised herself, and decided that though she would have that cock again. It would only be a rare, discreet thing, and only when she absolutely needed...

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Patchwork People XXII The xfactor

XXII. The x factor. It was a strange council they made that evening sitting on Grace's porch. Walt and Marcia, Claire, and, of course, Grace herself, puttering about busily, trying to make everyone comfortable. It brought to mind those old photographs of Yalta, where Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill posed with forced congeniality for the camera, the most unlikely and unnatural of allies, each of them knowing full well that their cooperation was only temporary. That the moment the...

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Carruthers Bride

The the wind howled around the quayside as I stepped onto terra firma for the first time in weeks, the wind threw sharp shards of ice to sting our faces as we looked up at the sails as they were finally furled and stowed as our captain grinned at our discomfiture, "Au revoir!" he joked as if he knew we should soon be recalled. Those such as were left, and we were few enough, I shuddered. My best uniform packed securely in my Valise, awaited me, and just a few more duties before I...

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Athena Corp Chronicles A Mothers Love

As he approached one of the hall's long mirrors he stopped to inspect himself. It was a familiar sight, the flowing, billowy French maid outfit surrounding his body. His arms and legs were outlined in silky, white stockings and arm-gloves. He wore pearl earrings and the lacy white collar around his neck was adorned with a beautiful pendant. It was a gift from mother that he wore every day, without fail. Jon's painted red lips and neatly applied eyeliner and blush were evidence that he was...

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