The Wench's Quill

Coming Soon

2006-01-25T02:11:00.000-05:00

Look for a new post from me soon.. I'm back!

The Dancer

2005-04-19T00:48:00.000-04:00

The house lights are lowered to a dim glow that shines through the haze of tobacco smoke and artificial fog that is suspended in the air. Air. Funny this atmosphere should be called air- it is thick with the pungent stench of cigars, sweet liquor, stale beer and sweat (occasionally heavy perfume or the musky odor of squishy, wet pussy) and is hardly fit to breathe.

A long legged girl swishes though a curtain from an unseen room behind the bar. Fresh make-up, carefully applied. Hair straightened, cascades over ivory skinned shoulders. A simple black bikini supports full breasts and she wears a thong. Stack-heeled thigh high 'fuck me' boots are form-fitted to her shapely calves. A sequined garter sparkles enticingly as it hugs a luscious thigh.

She walks, hips swaying, tits bouncing, past seats occupied by men already drunk, brought in off the streets by random wanderlust. Saturated in liquor, drowning their problems, forgetting their fears and families for a few hours of timeless, stress-free pleasure.

Ignoring the lurid stares, she strides with purpose, past a variety of other similarly clad vixens (none so striking as she) sitting with this most primal race of human. Dispensing useless factoids- unintelligible small talk. These men will say anything- DO whatever to be allowed so near these barely dressed women. To see what's underneath it all.

And these women.. well they will listen to the extraneous bullshit because it pays the bills.

But now she's on stage and when the lights are on her, she's free. She's Marilyn. She's Betty. She's everything they want. All eyes are on her now. The eyes. Hungry and ecstatic and wanting this body that is her, yet not her.

She tosses back a full mane of vibrant chestnut hair as she undulates with the throbbing beat of the music from the overhead speakers. The first few tips later, she works the bikini off and, tossing it to the side, squeezes her rosey nipples firmly to plump them into existence. Her left hand slides expertly down over her tight tummy and into her thong as her hips buck rhythmically, legs spead wide for her audience. She struts confidently across the stage to collect the next tip. It never ceases to amaze her how well simulating mastubation can pay.

It's all worth it however, isn't it? The stench of the bar and the grubby, pudgy fingers pawing and the garrulous laughter of the business men and their perverted fantasies.

At the end of the night, as the sun peeks over the tops of the city buildings, the nightlife shuts down. After she has exchanged her slinky, black costume for a sweatshirt and jeans, she drives home through the early morning dew. Eclectic thoughts traversing her mind as her french manicured fingers drum the steering wheel. How many more nights will she have to do this?

Climbing the steep stairwell to her modest little apartment- feet aching as she turns the key in the lock, weary. Dropping the fat wad of bills on the table by the door, and, kicking off her shoes, quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping form of the sitter on the sofa, she makes her way into the little bedroom. A room lit only by the glow of an Eeyore nightlight.

She gazes down into the toddler bed at her little, blonde miracle. Pulling her long, red hair back with one hand, she bends down to try and kiss the little girl's cheek without waking her.. but bright blue eyes pop open instantly.

"Mommy!"

"Shhh.. Hi Munchkin. Go back to sleep now.. Mommy loves you." She smiles at her capricious little angel.

"Okay, Mommy." The toddler's eyes flutter shut and she asks in a sleepy little voice, "did you dance Mommy? Were you pretty?"

And, sighing, she smiles again down at her daughter, this picture of perfect innocence. A few moments later she will remark upon her own reflection in the mirror, the picture of innocence lost. But no matter.

"Yes baby. I danced just for you."

Mirror... story edit

2005-03-24T10:04:00.000-05:00

*Note*
There is no moratorium on the amount of trouble that any one child is allowed to get into while growing up, but maybe there should be. For every ex-kid there is at least one mildew covered skeleton hanging in a closet somewhere, just waiting to be discovered; However, it's the skeleton which never surfaces that one should ultimately be concerned about.
***

Hot summer rain pelted the windows of the old victorian two-story fervently. Talia Cooper and her parents had moved in just months before, but it already resembled a museum rather than a home. It was full of a large plethora of incredibly fascinating antiques and other such nostalgia from the Cooper's worldwide scavenger hunts. These things which usually intrigued Talia, today, merely depressed her.

She was alone in this ancient exhibit again.

Talia precariously balanced a plate piled high with juicy and sour pickles and a glass of lemonade while trying to open her bedroom door. She was not really supposed to have food in her room, but she broke that rule regularly when her folks were not home. And that was happening more and more these days, it seemed.

She got the door open, and her fuzzy purple phone began to ring as if on cue. She almost dropped the plate scrambling to answer.

"Hello? Oh hey Jana." She grabbed the phone and plopped herself into the lime green beanbag chair in front of the TV. "Now? Well OKay, I can do that.. No, mom and dad are out of town for a dealer's convention. Again. I'll be over there in a few, just let me pack some stuff."

Jana Munroe was Talia's best friend of five years and they had practically lived together every summer since they met.Talia scrounged in her messy desk and found some paper and a purple gel pen to scribble the note to her parents: Gone To Jana's, probably for a few days. Love, Me. Nothing new there- Talia had her own drawer in Jana's dresser and a toothbrush in the bathroom. She was there that often.

Folding the note, she went to the kitchen and tacked it to the message board next to the phone. Then, back in her room, she rummaged for some clothes that she haphazardly threw into a bag along with some CDs and a DVD. Snatching up the bag, she exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Coincidentally, she failed to notice the demise of the plate of pickles that had fallen to the floor.

It was then, that Talia heard the eerie noise emanating from somewhere above. It was a keening pitch that sounded much like the cry of a child- a desolate, lonely kind of sound. But she knew that couldn't be the case; Nobody was in her house- especially not upstairs.

The attic door was a plain door, not like the pull-down kind in her friend's house. Talia knew that behind that door, a rickety stairwell led up to attic storage. She'd been disciplined by her father to stay out of the attic- it just wasn't too safe up there, he'd warned her. She knew there were many valuable items stored in the attic that he had plans to sell, but the old floors just weren't too trustworthy.

The cries had ceased for the moment, and Talia had herself almost convinced she'd imagined them when they began again- even more desperate sounding than before. The wailing was certainly human, although any words were not distinguishable.

She had to know who or what that was!

Talia opened the creaky door and took the steps to the attic.A bone chilling breeze swept down the stairwell accompanied by an even more chilling silence. Whatever it was had stopped making the noise, and Talia found that almost as disturbing as the sound itself. A sudden pungent stench penetrated the stairwell, but it dissipated almost as soon as it was detected. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled as the hairs all over her gangly, twelve year old body stood on end.

She had reached the summit of the staircase. She looked around slowly at a collection of very old trunks and furniture, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. A large, ornately decorated dressing mirror stood in one dark corner, and movement in that area gave her cause to jump. Talia looked again and determined that the movement was her own reflection, and sighed, relieved.A sudden sob that appeared to have come from behind the remarkable mirror, startled her out of her reverie.

Nearing the corner that the mirror occupied, Talia stepped over a bunch of odd looking toys that lay strewn about the floor. They were definitely valuable and maybe her dad would let her try to sell them at the Antique Boutique.. so she picked them up and decided to head back downstairs. This was just too creepy, and she wanted OUT of this house.

"Hey, those are MINE." A tiny voice implored from the corner. "you can play with them, if you wanna, but please don't take them away."

Talia dropped the toys and looked frantically around the mirror for the source of the voice. Simply nothing."Where ARE you?" she called out.. and then, "Who are you? Why won't you come out? And what are you doing in my house?" Talia's search was in vain, however. She leaned against the mirror and closed her eyes. This wasn't happening! She was NOT crazy!

"My name is Charlotte." the little voice breathed into Talia's ear from behind. Talia spun around in a panic.

Her fear turned into amazement when she looked into the mirror and saw that the reflection in the mirror was not her own, but the somewhat blurred image of another girl! The mirror-girl appeared to be about 8 or so and wore a simple white frock. She sported long, bouncing blond curls tied up in pigtails with pink ribbons. She looked as if she were from another time completely!

"Are you a ghost? Did you die in this house? And why were you crying?" Talia stumbled over the words.. she wasn't scared anymore, simply fascinated. She could see INTO the mirror.. there was a children's playroom reflected back at her behind the white-clad girl. More toys much like the ones at her feet could be seen in the mirror-room.

Charlotte balked at Talia's forceful line of questioning and her image grew blurrier as she started the troubled wail again.

Talia lowered her tone in an effort to soothe the child. "Sorry," she said.. "But why are you so sad?"The little girl's hazy image pouted, "I want my toys back now. Give them."

Talia turned and picked up a ragdoll that lay limp on the floor... "but how did you get here?" The mirror girl interrupted her.

Charlotte's eyes seemed to light up, "My dolly!" She pleaded to Talia imploringly with her eyes.

"Tell me how you got here, and you can have her."

Charlotte's face grew dark as she spoke. "I got really sick and my mommy made me stay up here. She said I could come out when I got better. But I never got better."

Talia wasn't satisfied, she wanted to know how the little ghost came to be trapped in the mirror.. "but are you stuck inside the mirror?" she touched the glass and her skin tingled. "Can't you come out?"

The little girl shook her head, causing her face to distort again. "No. I try to but I can't. I am so lonely up here. I liked to play dress-up, but one day I laid down and took a nap in front of this mirror, but I was so so sick and I didn't wake up. My mommy must have been really sad when I didn't wake up."

Wow... Talia calculated. This poor thing had spent an eternity in isolation.. no wonder her ghost was so tormented!

"Can I have Dolly now?" Charlotte asked.

Talia stepped forward and pressed the worn doll up against the mirror, unsure of what to expect.. the ghost's fingers wrapped around the doll's arm through the mirror and the toy was pulled through the glass to the other side, where Charlotte snuggled it tightly.

"I'm sorry you are lonely, Charlotte. That is very sad.." Talia wiped a tear away. This little girl was much like herself- sad and alone. "But you don't have to be alone anymore.. I can be your friend.." Talia picked up another toy and pressed it firmly to the mirror for the ghost-child to take from her.

Charlotte's imaged un-blurred slightly, and Talia thought she saw the beautiful child smile for the first time. The two girls giggled together then and Talia knew that all that Charlotte's spirit needed was companionship. Now, maybe her ghost could rest!

"Oh I am so happy you came," Charlotte blurted out..."I always wanted a friend." She placed a perfect little hand on her side of the mirror, the palm was showing to Talia, who, in turn, placed her hand on the mirror, over Charlotte's. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Friends," the ghost whispered. "Friends, forever."The spirit's fingers melted through the mirror and interlaced with Talia's own, closing over her hand firmly.. But then Charlotte gave a vicious yank and Talia cried out in surprise. She felt her whole being slip away as she was pulled into the mirror-room and out of the reality that she had only just come to appreciate.
***

The Next Afternoon

Frank and Paulette Cooper arrived home to an empty house. While Paulette unfolded the note that her daughter had so thoughtfully left them, Frank marched into the attic to take care of business. He lugged the huge, dusty vanity mirror down the attic stairs and out to his antique broker's waiting truck.

Frank Cooper was oblivious to the frantic wails and the sounds of small hands banging on the other side of the looking glass as he accepted the five-figure check with a hearty hand-shake.

The Mirror Has Two Faces (March 2005)

2005-03-22T01:53:00.000-05:00

*Note*

There is no moratorium on the amount of trouble that any one child is allowed to get into while growing up, but maybe there should be. For every ex-kid there is at least one mildew covered skeleton hanging in a closet somewhere, just waiting to be discovered; However, it's the skeleton which never surfaces that one should ultimately be concerned about.

***

Hot summer rain pelted the windows of the old victorian two-story fervently. Talia Cooper and her parents had moved in just months before, but it already resembled a museum rather than a home. It was full of a large plethora of incredibly fascinating antiques and other such nostalgia from the Cooper's worldwide scavenger hunts. These things which usually intrigued Talia, today merely depresed her.

She was alone in this ancient exhibit again.

Talia precariously balanced a plate piled high with juicy and sour pickles and a glass of lemonade while trying to open her bedroom door. She was not really supposed to have food in her room, but she broke that rule regularly when her folks were not home. And that was happening more and more these days, it seemed.She got the door opened, and her fuzzy purple phone began to ring as if on cue. She almost dropped the plate scrambling to answer.

"Hello? Oh hey Jana." She grabbed the phone and plopped herself into the lime green beanbag chair in front of the TV. "Now? Well OKay, I can do that.. No, mom and dad are out of town for a dealer's convention. Again. I'll be over there in a few, just let me pack some stuff."

Jana Munroe was Talia's best friend of five years and they had practically lived together every summer since they met.

Talia scrounged in her messy desk and found some paper and a purple gel pen to scribble the note to her parents: Gone To Jana's, probably for a few days. Love, Me. Nothing new there- Talia had her own drawer in Jana's dresser and a toothbrush in the bathroom. She was there that often.

Folding the note, she went to the kitchen and tacked it to the message board next to the phone. Then, back in her room, she rummaged for some clothes that she haphazardly threw into a bag along with some CDs and a DVD. Snatching up the bag, she exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Coincidentally, she failed to notice the demise of the plate of pickles that had fallen to the floor.

It was then, that Talia heard the eerie noise emanating from somewhere above. It was a keening pitch that sounded much like the cry of a child- a desolate, lonely kind of sound. But she knew that couldn't be the case; Nobody was in her house- especially not upstairs.

The attic door was a plain door, not like the pull-down kind in her friend's house. Talia knew that behind that door, a rickety stairwell led up to attic storage. She'd been disciplined by her father to stay out of the attic- it just wasn't too safe up there, he'd warned her. She knew there were many valuable items stored in the attic that he had plans to sell, but the old floors just weren't too trustworthy.

The cries had ceased for the moment, and Talia had herself almost convinced she'd imagined them when they began again- even more desperate sounding than before. The wailing was certainly human, although any words were not distinguishable.

She had to know what that was! Talia opened the creaky door and took the steps to the attic.

A bone chilling breeze swept down the stairwell accompanied by an even more chilling silence. Whatever it was had stopped making the noise, and Talia found that almost as disturbing as the sound itself. A sudden pungent stench penetrated the stairwell, but it dissipated almost as soon as it was detected. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled as the hairs all over her gangly twelve year old body stood on end.

She had reached the summit of the staircase. She looked around slowly at a collection of very old trunks and furniture, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. A large, ornately decorated dressing mirror stood in one dark corner, and movement in that area gave her cause to jump. Talia looked again and determined that the movement was her own reflection, and sighed, relieved.

A sudden sob that appeared to have come from behind the remarkable mirror, startled her out of her reverie.

Nearing the corner that the mirror occupied, Talia stepped over a bunch of odd looking toys that lay strewn about the floor. They were definitely valuable and maybe her dad would let her try to sell them at the Antique Boutique.. so she picked them up and decided to head back downstairs. This was just too creepy, and she wanted OUT of this house.

"Those belong to ME." A tiny voice implored from the corner. "If you want to play with them, I will share, but please don't take them away."

Talia dropped the toys and looked frantically around the mirror for the source of the voice. Simply nothing.

"Where ARE you?" she called out.. and then, "Who are you? Why won't you show yourself? What are you doing in my house?" Talia's search was in vain, however. She leaned against the mirror and closed her eyes. This wasn't happening! She was NOT crazy!

"I'm here. My name is Charlotte." the little voice breathed into Talia's ear from behind. Talia spun around in a panic.

Her fear turned into amazement when she looked into the mirror and saw that the reflection in the mirror was not her own, but the somewhat blurred image of another girl! The mirror-girl had on a white frock and sported bouncing blond curls tied up in pigtails with pink ribbons. She looked as if she were from another time completely!

"Are you a ghost? Did you die in this house? And why were you crying?" Talia stumbled over the words.. she wasn't scared anymore, simply fascinated. She could see INTO the mirror.. there was a children's playroom reflected back at her behind the white-clad girl. More toys much like the ones at her feet could be seen in the mirror-room.

Charlotte seemed to balk at Talia's forceful line of questioning, and her image grew blurrier as she started the troubled wail again.."I don't speak of such things! I am very much alive!" she cried indignantly.

"Sorry," Talia said.. "why are you so sad?"

The little girl frowned, "I want my toys back now. Please give them to me."

Talia turned and picked up a ragdoll that lay limp on the floor... "but how..."

The mirror girl interrupted her. "If I tell you how I died, will you give her to me?" She pleaded to Talia imploringly, and Talia nodded.

"I had scarlet fever. My mother kept me in quarantine until I passed away in June 1862. I couldn't have any friends anymore when I got sick.. this attic became my home and this mirror was my only friend.. my only friend that has imprisoned me here. I cry because I'm so lonely.. Now give me the dolly."

Wow... Talia calculated. This poor thing had spent an eternity in isolation.. no wonder her ghost was so tormented!

Talia quietly and without question pressed the worn doll up against the mirror, unsure of what to expect.. the ghost's fingers wrapped around the doll's arm through the mirror and the toy was pulled through the glass to the other side, where Charlotte snuggled it tightly.

"I'm sorry you are lonely, Charlotte. That is very sad.." Talia wiped a tear away. This little girl was much like herself- sad and alone. "But you don't have to be alone anymore.. I can be your friend.." Talia picked up another toy and pressed it firmly to the mirror for the ghost-child to take from her.

Charlotte's imaged un-blurred slightly, and Talia thought she saw the beautiful child smile for the first time. The two girls giggled together then and Talia knew that all that Charlotte's spirit needed was companionship. Now, maybe her ghost could rest!

"Oh I am so glad that you found me," Charlotte blurted out..."I have wanted a REAL friend for so long!" She placed a perfect little hand on her side of the mirror, the palm was showing to Talia, who, in turn, placed her hand on the mirror, over Charlotte's.

"Friends," the ghost whispered. "Friends, forever."

The spirit's fingers melted through the mirror and interlaced with Talia's own fingers, then closing over her hand firmly. Charlotte gave a vicious yank and Talia felt her whole being slip away as she was pulled into the mirror-room and out of the reality that she had only just come to appreciate.
***

The Next Afternoon

Frank and Paulette Cooper arrived home to an empty house. While Paulette unfolded the note that her daughter had so thoughtfully left them, Frank marched into the attic to take care of business. He lugged the huge, dusty vanity mirror down the attic stairs and out to his antique broker's waiting truck.

Frank Cooper was oblivious to the frantic wails and beatings of small hands on the other side of the looking glass as he accepted the six-figure check with a hand-shake.

Going Home (March 2005)

2005-03-09T23:31:00.000-05:00

He was just sitting there quietly, in the large, brown and uncomfortable vinyl chair next to my hospital bed. Legs crossed, he tapped a foot in rhythm to the rather slow chirps of the EKG. The only other sound in the room was the drip of my IV. He sat, leaned forward in his chair, watching me intently while holding my needle-bruised hand in his. He had smooth alabaster skin, so soft and warm. He was sitting there in such a manner when my eyelids fluttered open. I blinked through the medicated haze and focused on this man without recognition.

"Who are you?" I tried to ask, as I pulled my hand out of his. My throat felt as if it were on fire and I failed to produce the words. The man just shook his head and smiling, placed a perfect finger to my lips to shush me.

"There is no need for you to speak, Gretchen."

The words flowed effortlessly from his thin lips; For a second I questioned whether his lips had moved at all. I noticed that everything about this man appeared flawless, seamless really. Even his sharp charcoal suit fit his long body perfectly and appeared to hold no creases as he rose from the chair. He looked like a lawyer to me, and at this point in my illness, lawyers were not a welcome sight.

"Who are you?" I asked again, this time the words came out with a terrible ratchety sound much like nails on a chalkboard. The drugged slur in my voice was almost comical. "And how the Hell do you know my name?"

He extended his hand to me and searching his clear, blue eyes for a moment I found myself lost in a peaceful sea of tranquility. I felt that I knew him and somehow, I knew that I trusted him.
I put my hand in his and his touch almost seemed to energize me. I slid down out of the bed to stand at his side, making certain to tighten my hospital gown to cover my almost exposed rear.

"Walk with me," he said, and squeezed my hand reassuringly as we exited the room into the stark, white hall. I thought briefly that we must make quite the odd pair walking hand in hand- he so tall and pristine while I was so withered and meek.

"My name," he started, "is Gabe. I've been sent to help you with the final details."

Despair must have crept into my face upon hearing the inevitable spoken aloud because his hand tightened on mine and he pulled me closer, sliding his arm over my shoulders to embrace me. I felt my sadness dissipate slightly.

I had really not thought that much about the details that would include my passing on, what my family would do without me, or where my soul would wander to in it's next life. I was merely living day by day, and now it became obvious to me that my time to make these decisions was approaching too fast. The cancer had almost completely deteriorated my immune system and I was wasting away, a shell of my former self. I sighed sadly. Why did I have to do this to my family? I really hoped that somehow, this stranger really was here to make things easier, to help me cope. I really needed a friend.. I broke the reverie with a question:

"Gabe, who are you? Do you have a last name? And where are you taking me- I shouldn't be out of my bed really..." I faltered.

"Gabe. Simply Gabe will do. And we're just headed to the snack machine for the moment.." we turned the corner past the nurse's station and reached the machines. His smile seemed to glow when he confirmed that the vendor had peanut M&Ms. He placed a hand over the coin slot and the machine beeped twice in confusion before dropping the small bag of candy into the catch tray.

"Gretchen, one thing about life that I don't think you've quite come to grips with is that you get what you pay for. You've spent a lot on your life.." he trailed off serenely, and then offered me an M&M. He popped it into his own mouth when I distractedly ignored the offering.

"Gretchen, John loves you with all of his being. You're condition is tearing him apart. He's praying for you to realize that he's finally ready to let you go, for you to be relieved of your suffering." Gabe spoke these words softly in my ear. We'd come to a large window at the end of the ward, and here we paused in silence for a moment until I spoke.

"I don't understand, Gabe. I'm not certain that I can go so easily. I don't deserve to be relieved of this pain when it's going to cause my family such devastation to go on without me! I don't even know where I'm going, I've never been the religious type. I can't leave them like this! I just want my daughter to grow up happy, but I want to BE there when she does!" The feelings gushed out in an uncontrollable sob.

My entire adult life, I'd never tried to devote myself to God or any other Higher Power. And now here I was faced with the fact that I was going to leave this world not knowing where I would wind up, or if I would ever see my family again. Would my lack of faith be my final downfall?

Gabe's soft touch gave me solace and he seemed to absorb my immense grief. We were walking (floating?) now back down to the other end of the ward where the waiting room was. Reaching the small room, I was able to see through the window in the door to where my daughter sat, fervently drawing a picture. She was seated on the floor at my husband, John's, feet. John slept upright in yet another uncomfortable chair, his handsome features furrowed tightly with tortured worry as he slept. Opening the door, we stepped inside. I moved over to look down at my precocious five year old's artwork. She didn't see us standing there. She'd drawn our family on a picnic outside of a castle- such talent for one so young. I couldn't leave her now!

"Julie is going to do great things in her life. Gretchen, you have done such a wonderful job of beginning her journey. Her intelligence and perception are advanced simply because you recognized them early and helped promote development. In her eyes, you are everything and she hurts when you hurt. Even now, at only five." Gabe placed a hand on my shoulder.

"But I CAN'T leave them like this! Julie will need me! I want to see her grow to be a woman! I won't be here for her when she..." Gabe silenced me gently.

"Now listen to how selfish you sound now, Gretchen. This little girl that you have raised is far more capable of handling grief than you give her credit for." Gabe placed his hand on top of Julie's mass of springy blonde curls. "Just listen to HER, Gretchen. Julie has a message for you."

At the moment Gabe's fingers grazed her little head, Julie's demeanor completely changed. She stopped drawing, and even dropped her crayon. She turned her pretty little face up toward the sky and her bright, blue eyes appeared to be looking right into my own. She began to pray in her little girl's voice:

"Dear Jesus and God up in Heaven, I know my mommy is really sick. And I know she is going to go to sleep forever soon but it's okay with me because I know she will be in Heaven with you and you will make the hurt go away. Please make mommy not sick anymore. I don't want mommy to hurt anymore. And please make daddy not sad because one day we can all be together again in Heaven. Thank you God, amen."

The sadness I was retained burst forth then, my tears flowed and I knew then I loved Julie more than anything. My dying wish was for her to be happy and have everything that she ever wanted. And all SHE wanted was for God to take his best care of me and for my pain to vanish. We can learn a lot from the unselfish charms of children. I leaned down and kissed her curls.

I stepped over Julie's picture and laid a weak, trembling hand on John's chest. His breathing came sporadically and he moaned in his sleep. I knew now that he would not see me there if he woke up, but I spoke anyway, praying that he would feek and hear me somehow.

"John, I don't want to leave you here, you and Julie. But I know that all you really want for me is for the pain to go away. For me to be able to rest finally. I know that you and Julie will be strong for each other and I will watch over you always, my love, as you have watched over me.
John, one more thing.. I think there is a Heaven. And so far, it looks beautiful." I smiled through my tears up at Gabe, and then leaned down to kiss my husband's slack mouth for the last time. As I pulled away from his lips I felt, rather than saw, the grief and anguish leave John's soul. His features softened as if he was now at peace.

We left the waiting area. Gabe led me as far as my hospital room, and we could hear the life support machine chirping ever more slowly. My attending nurse was sitting in Gabe's chair from earlier, watching and waiting. I saw her say a silent prayer.

I squeezed Gabe's hand and, as we looked on through the doorway, I observed the little bit of life that was hanging on in the frail, shrunken, worn out body in my hospital bed fade. Gabe turned to me.

"Gretchen, it is time," he simply said. I slipped my small hand into his.

I was overwhelmed then, by a glorious feeling of calm and the bleak hospital surroundings were drowned out in a brilliant splash of white light.

"Take me home," I whispered. And all of my pain vanished in an instant. My last lucid vision came so clear to me that I could almost touch it... I saw Julie sitting in the waiting room next to her daddy who was sleeping peacefully now.

She was playing with a large, soft, white feather.

The Pleasure Gnomes (February 2005)

2005-02-26T02:40:00.000-05:00

This was not the luscious green paradise that the brochure had promised, he thought, maneuvering the ten year old camaro down a winding, cracked and rutted drive. The road, overgrown on both sides with nasty looking briars, narrowed considerably and Walter was now able to see clearly the thick mire of oozing swampland that bordered the property. He seemed to recall that the brochure had also mentioned soothing waterfalls and a brilliant array of relaxing rainforest flora and fauna. A balding squirrel dashed across the road in front of his car.

Walter hit the gas and the car lurched forward, barely missing the disheveled rodent.“Fuck!” Walter cursed as the camaro slammed into another deep pothole, causing his car to groan from the impact. He found himself wondering why in the Hell he’d agreed to this weekend without checking it out ahead of time. Oh, yea. He remembered now. He was possibly going to get laid for the first time in… oh shit, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had some ass. But he’d paid for it that time too, he was pretty sure of that.

Turning the creaking car into a poorly manicured circle, he nearly drove straight into a cheap plastic fountain that spouted brackish water over some moldy looking frolicking cherubs. “Aha,” he mused, “that must be the waterfall!”

Walter parked the car and got out, investigating the rather dingy surroundings of his weekend retreat. He attempted in vain to shake the impending sensation of doom that had come to perch on his shoulders ominously to mock him. Well, his buddies at work had recommended this resort rather highly, and ten years of going nowhere as an investment banker working out of a five by five cubicle DOES tend to make one rather uptight. Maybe he would just suck it up and enjoy what he could. Some margaritas and massages (with or without the happy ending) might just do him some good. Spinning on his heels to check out what he assumed was the main building of this ‘health spa’, Walter inhaled a deep breath of semi fresh air. Fumbling in his front shirt pocket, he produced a rather beaten up bic lighter and proceeded to light a camel. He supposed there really was no need to be so presumptuous merely on account of the dreary surroundings.

From out of seemingly nowhere, a rather tiny man/midget/dwarf (what the fuck?) appeared at Walter’s knees and bowed to him deeply. “At your service, Mr. Pendleton.” He straightened and that was when Walter took notice of the gnome like get-up that the little guy wore. Green tights, red vest, he was only missing the shoes.

“My name is Lou, Mr. Pendleton. Please follow me to sign in for your weekend of divine ecstasy with the most experienced pleasure specialist in the country.”

Okay, now THIS sounded very nice. As he stubbed out the cigarette, Walter did a little dance in his mind thinking about what his ‘pleasure specialist’ was going to be doing to him in a few short hours… he didn’t care what she did, he was ready for anything. At this point he really didn’t think he cared what she looked like, so long as she smelled nice and wasn’t a size queen. He retrieved his suitcase and other bag from the car and, setting them on the ground, he turned to close the hatch. By the time he’d turned back around to grab his bags, Lou had already grabbed the luggage and was dragging it along the ground behind him and up the three steps into the main office, through dark glass doors.

Another midget appeared, this one a pimple faced teenager. He took Walter’s keys with a nasty little leer. He apparently was the valet because he hopped into the camaro and reved the engine. Walter wondered briefly how he was going to manage to reach the pedals to drive, but was too preoccupied with the costume he wore. This little guy had the same get-up on as Lou; accept that he HAD the pointy, curly toed shoes. And his shoes HAD friggin bells.

“You people could sue,” muttered Walter, but Lou ignored the comment.

They had entered a large foyer that looked somewhat classier than the outside grounds had suggested. Plush carpet, mirrored ceiling, the furniture in the waiting area did not exactly MATCH but it looked comfortable at least. In the very center of the foyer, carved (or molded?) from a very reflective faux brass, a very voluptuous fifteen-foot tall sex goddess towered over the entire room. She was clad in only a devious smile and brandished in one hand a cat-o-nine tails and in the other, a feather. Interestingly enough, her props were real, apparently glued to her brassy palms.

From behind a heavy yet elegant desk in the corner, came a hideous croak that sounded sort of like "Welcome." Walter didn’t see the owner of the voice until he came close enough to the desk counter to see over it.

Her nametag said her name was Helen and her features betrayed her age as somewhere upwards of 100, though she had painted on enough makeup that none of her jaundiced flesh tones showed. She smiled and her face threatened to crack with the effort. Extending a tiny, leathered hand with nicotine stained fingertips, she stood and motioned for Lou to leave.

“Your belongings will be taken to your room, and here is your key card.” She placed a credit card sized door swiper in Walter’s hand and her dry, scaly index finger caressed his palm momentarily- long enough at least, to make the skin all over his body crawl with revulsion. He cringed at the way she seemed to undress him with her muddy brown eyes… he prayed he wouldn’t have to look at Helen much longer. She might take away any chance he ever had for future erections if he didn’t get her image out of his mind, and soon.

Helen seemed to sense his anxiety and pushed an intercom button on the desk. From behind a curtain on the other side of the room, two very attractive sirens in their early twenties appeared and came to his side, giggling and watching Helen coyly. The redhead molded her tight body to Walter, while the brunette slid her hand down the front of his slacks.

“Take Mr. Pendleton to his quarters. Loosen him up, and prepare him for the evening’s festivities,” Helen garbled. “Get him a bottle of his favorite beverage and anything else he desires. And…” she smiled. “Make certain that you two fillies don’t let him spend all his energy on you. He’s going to need it later.”

Walter was overwhelmed with happiness, and he felt his dick growing hard already… it was happening; he was going to get laid! And these girls were so much more than he had anticipated! He barely felt his feet touch the floor as they led him down the hall to the pleasure dome, tickling, teasing and caressing him the entire way.

The girls really did their best to rile him up. They were very professional. He couldn’t ever remember a more seasoned set of hands or mouth that was able to make his cock spring to life and STAY there as long as his did that evening. He’d been massaged and manhandled, rubbed and pinched. Every muscle had been worked and worked some more. The highlight had been the oil rub. One of the girls (the busty redhead) had saturated her entire body in mineral oil and then climbed on top of Walter, sliding her naked skin up and down his body. He’d been surprised he hadn’t shot his wad all over her then. The girls had finished prepping Walter’s previously neglected body and left the room, stating that he was about to have the most orgasmic sexual experience he had ever had. The Prime Pleasure Priestess, aptly named ‘Hurricane’, was going to visit him and show him everything that he’d been missing in the ways of eroticism.

Several hours later, Walter came to. His body screamed with ecstatic pain. The room was smothered in darkness and the musky scent of spent sexual fluids hung in the air. Rubbing his eyes, Walter slowly came back to lucidity. He reached down and gave his over-worked cock a friendly squeeze too, a sort of ‘thanks for being there for me buddy’ gesture and noticed he was still rock hard. Amazing, after ALL that and he was still ready for another round. This Pleasure Priestess must really know her stuff.

He jumped suddenly in surprise when he heard a muffled snore coming from under the tangled satin sheets at his side. The covers stirred slightly. She was still in there with him!

Walter slid his hand under the sheet and worked his fingers between her legs and into her warm pussy, noting she was still sopping wet from their prior interlude. He worked her clit until her hips started jerking in spasms and then he pulled back the sheet to suck on an exposed, soft breast. He extracted his fingers from her and licked the sticky wetness from them, savoring the pungent juices.

It was at that moment that Hurricane Helen, croaking in a fury of climax, pulled the chain on the bedside lamp illuminating her wrinkled, sagging, Picasso-like body as she contorted violently in orgasm. This of course, came as a nasty surprise for Walter, who hit his head viciously on the bed’s sideboard as he fell out of it, suffering a massive contusion and not-so-major memory loss.

Unfortunately for Walter, that part of his memory, that last image of Hurricane Helen flopping in geriatric ecstacy, managed to become the most vivid image he retained from his entire pathetic life.

And, as he sat in his own special chair at his new home, Shady Acre Mental Rehabilitation Center, he rocked back and forth keening pathetically by the window. Twitching. His eyes now remained permanently closed as he attempted to block out the world.

Cabin Consequences Revisited (January 2005)

2005-01-15T02:36:00.000-05:00

I awoke from a smoky, charred and tortured nightmare full of chaos and deception. The sounds and smells of sex, lies and roaring flames lingered vaguely in my mind as my eyes adjusted to the early morning darkness in the curtained motel room. I turned on my side and squinted at the clock, causing my migraine to pulse more loudly. Under the thick bandages, the searing pains in my chest screamed like a scalded bitch. According to the x-rays, the bowie knife that my husband had attempted to murder me with had missed my heart narrowly, but had maliciously mauled my breasts.

The emergency room at Mountain Memorial had been very understanding of my reasons for not involving the police. Apparently that area was popularly known to have a safe house for battered women and the locals were accustomed to ‘no questions asked’ situations. Also, I had miraculously managed to salvage my purse, a sweatshirt and some jeans before the cabin roof caved in- so at least I had some clean clothes and access to cash and my ID which I needed when I rented the cheap piece of shit parked outside my room. (I cursed Randy venomously for causing my BMW to blow up at the cabin).

I had lost a lot of blood from the knife wound, but the sorry sack of shit had failed to cause any major internal damage. Funny how my husband was a failure at just about everything -relationships, honesty, satisfying me in bed… but he was amazing with money. Investments were his forte. I knew this well seeing as I was an executive over his estate. Big mistake on his part.. But I’m sure he’s kicking himself for it now.

That son-of-a-bitch was going to fucking pay for a hell of a lot more than just my new set of tits, I’d make sure of that. It truly would have been in his best interest to check my fucking pulse before he torched the Goddamn place. As I lay there, wounded and bleeding in seeming perpetuity, I was watching him the entire time through glazed over eyes. He was doctoring the scene of the murder to make it tell a different story indeed.

Randy bagged up the decapitated head of my former lover, Graylon. He scattered (what I discovered later to be his own teeth) around the lifeless body. He then hurriedly disappeared into the cabin to retrieve Graylon’s wallet and swap it with his own. My seemingly clever husband finally exited in a blaze of fucked up glory, presuming me dead. Silly bastard.

According to the Mountain View Chronicle that I now held in my hands, Randall Ian Pruitt, 39, had been pronounced dead in the fire, identified by unmistakable dental work. The local police stated in the blurb in the paper that ‘Mr. Pruitt was survived by a wife who was known to be on vacation out of town at the time of the incident and had yet to be notified of the situation.’ A silly thought ran through my head upon reading this- it was the first time I'd noticed my husband's initials were 'RIP'.

So, my husband of fifteen loveless years was so desperate to prevent me from obtaining anything if and when I filed for divorce, that the bastard decided to kill ‘both’ of us. It wouldn’t cost him anything at all to buy a new identity and hit the border when the smoke cleared.. With me out of the way, his precious investments would remain safe.

However, he had NOT counted on me surviving the fire once his ‘death’ had been announced.. we were BOTH supposed to be proclaimed dead and I had defied his evil little ploy. Now I was in the position to get everything that Randy had worked his miserable life for. Did he really and truly believe that he was going to live fucking happily ever after under some new identity? Did he think a plastic surgeon and some dentures could save him now?

I should have seen what the asshole was planning from the beginning. His affair with my best friend, Tanya had not been the first. In fact, several of my former friends had been unwittingly sucked into my husband’s manipulative web of deceit and I was determined to change my fate. I had nothing to lose at all.. Any love that Randy and I had shared had died the moment we signed our insurance policies.

Currently, my husband was nothing more to me than a nasty virus gnawing away at my chance for happiness. I needed this reprieve in the lumpy motel bed to concentrate on how I was going to vaccinate myself against him.

I dropped the newspaper next to the bed and attempted to stretch out my sore limbs the best I could. Wherever Randy was, he had surely had a chance to see the paper by now. He would be a sweaty and paranoid mess until he was able to locate me. It would not be long before he had some greasy henchman scouting me out to finish the job he couldn’t. I needed my plan straight, and soon.

A faint odor of smoke was present as I ran my fingers through my normally lustrous hair. Gingerly, I made my way to the tiny bathroom where I proceeded to draw a steamy hot bath in hopes I would be able to clear my head to devise my next move. As I sank my aching body into the water, I could not help but smile devilishly. I really did have the upper hand now.. I certainly had my stupid husband by his useless balls this time.

My revenge was going to taste sweeter than the most enticing confection.

Life Expectancy (January 2005)

2005-01-01T02:32:00.000-05:00

Riley had been sitting in the hard plastic chair long enough for her left foot to fall asleep. She crossed and uncrossed her lengthy cheerleader’s legs as pins and needles began to set in. Her ass really hurt. She was ill with the pungent odor of the sterile atmosphere she’d been inhaling. Her tummy growled an empty complaint and Riley stole a glance at the waiting room clock. If they had called her back at her scheduled appointment time, she might have had time to spare for a quick bite of lunch- but no such luck today.

Turning back to the book she’d been reading, Riley then noticed the only other person in the room with her, an old man, bespeckled with liver spots. He was dressed in a dinghy brown salesman suit and must have smelled of mothballs and dust. He’d probably come into the room while Riley was lost in reverie, reading her book.

Well, she noticed him now, almost drooling lasciviously as he drank in her shapely young form. It was sick how it didn’t phase him when she caught his eye. He simply continued gawking. Riley was accustomed to being watched by men, but this particular man’s aberrant attention was starting to freak her out. Agitated, she coughed loudly, and decided to swindle the geezer out of his peep show by crossing her arms over her breasts. Okay, so her sweater had grown a bit snug the past week or so, but that didn’t give the fucker an excuse to stare a hole in her tits.

Riley may have been blessed (or cursed) with the body of a centerfold sex queen, but her biggest gift was most definitely her mind. She was the top of her class, President of the student government, head cheerleader and was a shoe-in for Valedictorian. She left some big shoes to fill for next year’s top students. Riley’s ambition to succeed in everything she did was the driving force that won her a full ride to the college of her choice. She’d chosen Princeton and they’d welcomed her with open arms already, early admission as well.

Her future education was a distant blur at the moment, however. The waiting room clock ticked a tone of dreadful monotony. Riley really needed to pee- if she went before her exam, she’d not have anything left for the doctor’s cup. Damn these pre-entrance physicals.

Another excruciating ten minutes crept by and the dirty old guy ambled into the bathroom. Well, that was the deciding factor that kept Riley OUT of the bathroom- it was single sex and she didn’t want any of that old man’s funk on her. She sighed and uncrossed and crossed her legs again attempting to suppress the urge a few minutes longer as well as get the feeling back in her ass. An unexpected thought caused her to blush suddenly and an inane giggle escaped her lips. That old fart was probably in there jacking off... Riley’s blue cashmere sweater hugged her curves just right and provided him with masturbation material for days more than likely. She wondered if his old dick even got hard anymore.

Sex was one of Riley’s favorite recreational activities and she found herself thinking about it a lot in her spare time. She considered herself to be a responsible person for her age, and so far had always made sure that a condom was used whenever she did have sex. Just last month, Dean, Riley’s boyfriend, had succeeded in giving her the first set of multiple orgasms she’d ever experienced.Riley kind of tingled all over as she thought about that day...although they had a bit of a scare immediately following. Riley had been a bit freaked out when her orgasm caused her muscles to contract violently and gripped Dean’s cock just tightly enough for the condom to come off halfway inside her. He calmed her down, retrieved it and helped clean her up, assuring Riley that none of his cum had been lost in her. And with that discovery, they had celebrated with another round. Yes, Riley had a true appetite for sex.

“Riley Sloan.” A busty, roly-poly nurse had opened the door marked ‘Staff Only’. Riley rose too fast to her feet and was suddenly overcome with nausea that passed almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Little did Riley expect, but she was more full of life than ever before. How devastating that the tiny fetus that she was about to discover was growing inside her would not only be a miracle of life, yet also the inevitable downfall of her youthful pride and promising future.

A Lesson in Submission (December 2004)

2004-12-01T02:24:00.000-05:00

This evening had been filled with enchantment and romance. They made it back to his apartment via taxi. Those backseat moments were a tangle of drunken giggles and giddy groping kisses. Passers-by had smiled at the scene- young lovers caught up in the moment.

Arriving at his apartment, they stumbled up the steps, past the doorman and into the elevator. Inside his opulent apartment, she flung off her coat as he fumbled with the lights. Flipping one switch dimmed the room to the same flickering ambience from the restaurant they had just left.They fell onto the couch, their kisses growing fervently manic- she wanted him desperately. He pulled away, placing a single finger against her urgent mouth. He reached past her to the table and picked something up that he caressed her bared shoulders and neck with, a black silken scarf. He beckoned to her with his eyes that she had his trust and she agreed, blinded already by lust. And seconds later, completely blinded with the scarf tied securely over her bright graphite colored eyes.

He proceeded to undress her, lying her back on the soft pillows on the couch. Her dress was pulled over her head and her bra and thong were tossed to the side as well. Soon, she lay there in his arms naked, chest heaving with lust. She reached out blindly towards him, attempting to assist him in the removal of his clothes, but he stopped her. Standing, he left her there.“I'll be back in a moment angel. I have something for you,” he stated demurely, and left the room.

She simply moaned a pleasurable sigh and awaited his return.

Minutes later she heard the sound of something placed on the floor at her feet. Expecting him to be ready for her, she reached out to touch him again, only to discover he still had on that infernal suit! He grabbed her wrists roughly. “I see you have no patience, well you will learn in time.” He fastened her wrists together twisted behind her back with leather straps. She screamed and twisted frantically, “What the Hell are you doing?” she gasped. He forced her back down on the couch, belly down with a knee in her back and strapped her ankles together as well. He cupped her mouth shut with one hand and reached into his box of treasures at his feet, retrieving a soft rubber ball the size of a golf ball.. He popped this into her mouth and secured it with another silken scarf. Now her screams were muffled.

Once her mutinous attempts to escape were smothered, he fastened another set of straps around her thighs- a special restraint that involved a 10" metal bar positioned to keep her legs apart. She now was primed for his pleasure, his erection had grown ready too. But it was much too soon, she was nowhere near ready.

From the box he produced several more items of interest. A silk cord noose with an angry looking alligator clip attached to the end of it was his first pick.

He removed her bound, shuddering body from the couch; he placed her on her knees on the floor and looped the noose around her neck, then pulled the slack on the cord as he traced downwards toward her spread pussy. He probed her lips and spread them apart, pleased that she was soaken wet despite her fear. Finding her clit, he clipped the sharp metal onto it. She gasped in pain. He then took up the slack so that every movement of her neck and shoulders would put pressure on her clipped and now swollen clit.

He removed a similar clipped cord from the box and fastened a clip to each of her nipples which were hard at attention. This cord he ran between her legs and fastened to her ankle straps, taught.

He smiled sweetly to himself as he turned out the light and left the darkened apartment for a midnight walk, humming.

Yes, his fragile pet would be trained in no time.

The Thunder of Hooves (November 2004)

2004-11-15T02:03:00.000-05:00

The thundering of hooves pounded an orgasmic harmony into my brain. I turned my head this way, and that, observing the various paddocks containing the awesome beasts that filled my life and work..God, I loved it here already.

A shriek of fury filled the air, and I spun around in time to witness a brilliant torrid red stallion rearing to strike at another.. His eyes were wild with vengeance, no doubt he was trying to ‘protect’ the small herd of mares paddocked nearby. The other male turned from the red monster’s challenge and fled up the pasture. In my opinion, that was a smart move. I observed the larger, red horse’s defiance as he snorted steam and stamped a massive hoof.

He was the one, I was sure of it.

I had received the phone call yesterday about the arrival of this wild horse. He had been deemed uncontrollable and dangerous. The owner of this particular farm had heard through the grapevine that I dealt with such animals, so I was asked if I would make the time to assess the situation. Actually in a rather domineering and garrulous tone, the farm owner, Rex Trowling, had said this, “the sooner I get SOMEONE out here to assure me this is a hopeless case, the quicker I can get him off my hands. And as much as I hate it, that someone has got to be you because you are all I could get on the line, Ms. Raines. You know how it goes.” Now not only had I learned the man had no respect for women, but he was going to put this horse down, and from the looks of it, whether I deemed it necessary or not. I did not belabor his point, but simply replied, “Mr. Trowling, if this horse in any way is not fit for your commercial needs, you will hear firsthand from me.” I think I heard him grunt in answer just before he hung up.

The background on this magnificent stallion was hazy. Rex could not tell me from where he had obtained ownership- simply that a deal had gone bad and this was the result. He said one of his farmhands had gotten close enough to throw a halter on him and get him to the cross ties, but upon getting within range to tack him up... well let’s just say that farmhand is on medical leave now with a broken arm and a nasty lacerated eyebrow. He was lucky he didn't lose the eye. So far, all the stallion was to Rex Trowling, was a liability- and in order to take care of the liability, it was necessary to get the word of an expert.

An expert. I never used that word to describe my quality of work. I loved my work. Everything equine flowed through my blood. I had been through every aspect of the horse-world since I was old enough to walk.. From foaling to eventing and even racing- and I was not about to let some walking Texas wallet in a cowboy hat have the final ordainment over a creature that God had surely spent great time in making. I walked casually into the barn to get to know my surroundings better. I was not sure how long my stay would be, but it was always good in a situation such as this, to get to know the barn staff as well as the barn. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Mr. Trowling, I was sure. And I knew I would also learn more about the way he operated his barn from his underlings.

The main barn was impressive. The stalls were much larger than standard and they were all equipped with automatic water and an expensive ventilation system designed to seal tightly for the winter to lock in warmth. And at the end of the row of stalls was one much larger than the rest. I noticed it had two sliding doors- one opening inside to the barn and the other to the paddock. I asked a nearby hand if this one belonged to the red stallion and he replied, ‘Yes’m. That monster, Firebird! That’s his stall.. But please don’t ask me to bring ‘m in, we only just let’m out and he’s a bitch to catch, that one is.” The kid smiled winsomely as I assured him I wouldn’t need his help. He snickered as I walked away.. Great, another man in the making who had no faith in women. I had suspected that stall was reserved for him- Firebird. Rex would want him in a large box, should he thrash about and kick the walls in.

I walked outside the barn into the glorious sunshine and up to the fence that encased the pasture that the fabulous Firebird occupied. He stood alone on a hill, his head high, nostrils flared to the sky and his tail whipping like a flag in the wind. I climbed the fence and entered his domain, the wind tossed my own red mane, this way and that. I lifted my face to the sky and flared my own nostrils, to see if I could sense what he was smelling. What a tremendous feeling of freedom I felt! How wonderful it must be to be such a magnificent creature. I closed my eyes and let the wind blast my face with autumnal gusts. I stood there, frozen like a statue, pretending I was the horse that I was meant to be, and not another ignorant human.

Moments later, I heard it on the breeze.. A soft snort, a whinny. Stamp of a hoof, but softly. I opened one eye, then the next. Firebird had come down off his mountain to investigate me. He shook his mane at me and snorted again. Curious. I playfully snorted back at him and shook my head. I laughed inside my mind at what people would think as they watched our interaction.. I held out a hand toward the so called ‘monster’ and with the other hand, rattled gently the pocket full of peppermints I had thought to bring.Firebird lowered his head then..only twelve feet from me now and moving ever so rapidly closer. I closed my eyes again and lifted my face to the sun and blew a soft raspberry much like the sigh of a contented horse. And then, he was there at me.. He nuzzled my arm first and then my neck and as I opened my eyes and looked at him so close to me for the first time, his large head and neck had encircled me over my shoulder as if he was hugging me.. It was amazing. His soft muzzle nibbled at my ear..beautiful.

I ran my fingers through his matted mane and over his muscular chest and withers. He let me touch him wherever I wanted and I fed him at least two handfuls of mints before I decided to attempt the impossible. I grabbed a fistful of mane and led him to a stump about twenty feet away- he walked calmly with me, no sign of the killer I had witnessed nor heard about. At the stump, I breathed in deeply and in one fluid movement, I was ontop of him...and I stayed on him. Firebird made no move to dismount me, he simply turned his big head back to where I sat on his back. Curious as to what I was going to do next...I was curious too.

I squeezed his sides firmly with my legs urging him forward and he moved forward in a smooth trot- his muscles rippling beneath me. As we approached the barn, I was satisfied to see Rex standing there with the barn hands, his mouth agape. I slid off the stallion's back, paying no mind to the open-mouthed attention I had drawn from the farm hands. As I led Firebird into the barn, Rex began to stumble over himself with apologies, but I shushed him with my hand.

“And there's no need to write me a check either, Mr. Trowling. I believe that Firebird has chosen who he belongs with. If that’s alright with YOU, that is.”

Rex merely breathed in response, “and damn has he chosen well, ma’am.” Rex’s eyes followed me as I prepared to trailer my new horse. If I wasn’t mistaken, Mr. Trowling had learned a few things that day.

Le Petit Morte (November 2004)

2004-11-01T01:49:00.000-05:00

Sara awoke with a start. Pain throbbed loudly and sickeningly in her head, as she opened her eyes and surveyed the surroundings. This proved difficult, as the space she was in happened to be unnaturally dark.She sat up straight- Fuck! Big mistake!

Sara groaned in pain and placed a hand tenderly to the place that hurt the most, behind her left ear. She pulled her hand away slowly; it was sticky with a gob of not so fresh blood. The volume of throbbing pain was intense, having increased with her sudden movement.Sara’s eyes began to adjust somewhat, and she started to make out dim outlines of objects around her. She sensed a large open space over her head, from which occasional drafts of almost amicable fresh air would drift down, momentarily splitting apart the musty scent of mildew. She discovered that the floor she sat upon was actually hard packed dirt. She thought she could make out the outlines of rafters or support beams above her as well.

A wave of nausea overcame her then, and she lurched forward gagging. Where in the Hell WAS she? And how had she come to be in this place? She reached beyond the nagging pain and tried to remember anything at all, but all she seemed to recall was leaving her girlfriend’s house in the afternoon.. But was it THAT afternoon? How many days had passed? She had no clue.Her last lucid memory was of their kiss goodbye as she was about to pull out of the driveway in the little putter car that her monthly salary afforded her.

Sara’s relationship with Ali was special and very private. The time they had together was often very brief and always secluded because noone in her family, Hell the TOWN would ever approve of such a lifestyle. And such was the same in Ali’s case. Hell Ali’s dad was a pastor. Noone would ever be open-minded enough to accept their relationship! She couldn’t talk to anyone at school about it and neither could Ali. It was something only they could understand. There was simply no way to edify their feelings for each other. So they didn’t plan to try.

Today? Yesterday? They had spent two hours together alone at Ali’s house. Ali’s dad was gone doing some missionary work with some of his church friends, and her older brother, Dale was off with some of his college buddies. Ali and Sara took that opportunity to curl up together at her house on the backyard swing..stealing forbidden kisses and learning about each other’s secret desires. Times like these were precious to them. On that day, for the first time, Ali had let Sara go down on her. It was so erotic, to finally be allowed to taste first hand that creamy sweetness that Ali possessed. It was like nothing Sara had ever experienced before, and despite Ali’s initial trepidation, she couldn’t hide the fact that she loved it as well.“Mmmm, Ms Sara” she had moaned in ecstacy, her lithe body stretched in a reclined position along the swing, “why haven’t we done this sooner?”

Sara remembered answering Ali with a teasing tongue jiggle in the appropriate place..Sara smiled at the memory, and simultaneously winced in pain. The reality of her situation had hit her. Someone had done this to her. Someone had attacked her and brought her to this place and..and.. where ARE all the fucking windows?

Her vision finally adjusted, She now was able to ascertain that this ‘room’ she was in had no windows and seemingly, no doors either. Tears of consternation flooded her eyes but she mopped them up with her dirty sweater sleeve. She had to hold it together if she was going to figure this shit out.Feeling in her left pocket, Sara found her cell phone and felt her heart leap with joy. She pulled it out, flipped it open and discovered with dismay that there was absolutely no signal. Fabulous. Just her fucking luck. What in God’s good name had she DONE to deserve this?

God. She thought a minute- why would God have anything to do with her anyway? She was a sinner. She was having a lustful, sexual relationship with another female. God didn’t have pity for her..in fact He was probably laughing at her this very moment, if he was so inclined.

Sara’s head felt like it was in a vice, it hurt so fucking bad! She was sure to need stitches when she got out of this. She made an arduous attempt to stand up and search for an exit..of course there HAD to be a way out. There had been a way IN, right? She literally came to the end of her rope as she fell back to the earth. Something had prevented her from moving too far from her position on the floor. She felt along her leg and came to a large iron bracket encircling her right ankle. Tugging at the shackle, she realized that it was chained to something very heavy on the floor adjacent to her. She was tethered like an animal.

She squinted her eyes and forced them to see what she was chained to.

Sara’s blood chilling screams of terror pierced the darkness and reverberated throughout the room, ironically bouncing off the walls and slamming back into her aching head causing her even more pain. She backed frantically away, scooting on her ass, but with every jerk she made to get away from the other end of the chain, the dead weight would move with her, panicking her even more.

Sara was chained to Ali.

Ali was dead.

The body that had been Sara’s playground oh so recently, now lie there bruised and battered, broken and bloody. Her killer had left her lying there naked and spread eagled after apparently performing twisted acts of disfiguration upon her body. A large puddle of blood was starting to congeal under Ali’s once beautiful golden mane. It appeared that someone had beaten her about the head to where she was almost unrecognizable. It also appeared that they knew of Ali and Sara’s forbidden pleasures...Sara’s eyes trailed down to Ali’s once lickable, pink pussy..The sicko had fastened a palm sized mirror within the folds so that Ali’s vagina was in a sense ‘plugged’. The reflective part was facing out, amid bloody gashes where he had formed it to fit, so that anyone studying the creativity of his work would look into Ali’s crotch and see themselves staring out.

Sara saw her own eyes in the mirror and began to hyperventilate.

It was several hours later when the trap door above was opened and the last rays of the days light shone down on the horrific scene below. The man above, surveyed the scene, grunting and nodding in approval to another individual standing behind him. In her shock, Sara had asphyxiated herself by swallowing her own tongue while hyperventilating.

She had collapsed dead, face down in Ali’s lifeless crotch.The man kicked some of the loose earth down onto the scene below. He then turned from the hole and walked away, and the other stepped forward slowly to have a look.The second man shook his head sadly and in a voice barely more than a whisper, “Oh Ali, you brought us so much shame. This was the only way... and Ms Sara..how COULD you? You were her algebra teacher! You killed her, you bitch! You had to tempt her with your selfish desires! You had to drag her down with you..but you will know Hell. By God, you will know Hell.”

Dale replaced the trapdoor carefully, covering it with loose dirt. He picked up the bloody baseball bat lying nearby and turned to follow his father home.

Cabin Consequences (October 2004)

2004-10-01T01:25:00.000-04:00

She pulled the yellow sweater over her head of vibrant red hair and down over her large, bare breasts. Hopping up from the bed, she squealed as Graylon goosed her. Raechyl was much more than a little stoned at this point and every movement made her giddy. Stumbling over the mess they’d made of bottles and clothes in the floor, she somehow managed to find her blue jeans, pull them on and button them to the top. He rolled over in the king size bed, and his low sexy groan was one of satisfied bliss.

The cabin, was in a secluded spot high in the mountains and hours away from her husband’s prying eyes. There was not a day that went by that she did not regret her decision to marry for money and not love. Sure, it was nice to have the means to live outrageously, but there was a cavernous hole in her heart that her cold, stockbroker husband would never be able to fill. She had never warmed up to him in the 4 years they had been married. Despite her mother’s insistence that ‘love will grow between you’, it never did, and Raechyl did not intend to force the issue. She knew that the ‘love’ her husband claimed he had for her was nothing more than a love of possessions. He was obsessed with her beauty, nothing more. Tired of being one of his many trophies, she had found love elsewhere, and was happy to have her cake and eat it too.

Raechyl had been having an affair with her personal trainer, Graylon, for about 5 months now and she had to admit that it was more than sexual energy that pulsed between them. She knew she was in love... and he had professed the very same to her. He was so good to her, never insisting that she leave her husband, although they both knew that one day they would have to face the facts. He simply took what time they had together for what it was, special and fleeting, letting Raechyl set the rules and schedule.

Getting away this weekend had been simple. Almost too simple, in Graylon’s eyes. Raechyl had informed Randy, her husband, that she needed some fresh air and a trip to the spa. Her best friend, Tanya, always covered for her, so she told him that she and Tanya would be in Falcon Cove for a relaxing weekend away. He didn’t hesitate to send her on her way; Likely he had his mistresses to attend to as well. Randy stuffed a roll of cash in her purse and bid her farewell. Tanya arrived at their posh Atlanta high-rise apartment Friday afternoon to help her pack, and then they were off in Raechyl’s little red BMW in no time, music blaring. Gone in a glow of taillights.

“So we’re staying at the cabin,” Raechyl had informed Tanya of her plans for the weekend. “You know the number and address, in case anything goes wrong.” They always had a backup plan for emergencies, though they’d never needed it. “Yea, yea” Tanya laughed...she loved these ‘weekends away with Raechyl’. While Rae was up in the mountains banging her gorgeous man-whore, Tanya would take the wad of cash (compliments of Randy) and stay in only the best hotels just over the Tennessee border. There she would play, gambling the days away and spending hot, sweaty nights befriending the high-rollers in the Penthouse.It all seemed so easy. Raechyl had dropped Tanya off at the Winchester-Montgomery Royal Suites with a hug and a “See ya Sunday night!” and continued north for a weekend of hot, unbridled lust in the hills of Cougar Bluff.

She always tingled with excitement to see his dust covered Jeep in the driveway and could hardly wait to get inside to get her hands and mouth on him. Graylon would be waiting there at the cabin for her as usual... sometimes in front of the television, sometimes in the bed and sometimes in the large hot tub on the open deck, but always stripped naked and ready to fuck.

So, awaking now, Saturday afternoon after a dizzying night of getting high and getting off, Raechyl felt in need of some fresh mountain air. She leaned over Graylon’s lithe body, her nipples stiffening again merely by the touch of his skin through her sweater. “Hey baby... I’m headed down the hill to the store. Want anything?”“Mmmmm.. You give me anything more like you did last night, sexy, and I’ll have a fucking heart attack before I’m 40!” he playfully pinched a hardened nipple through the cashmere. “Hurry back, love, I’m almost rested..” he winked.Raechyl just giggled and was sure to shake her ass for him one good time as she grabbed the keys to his Jeep and jogged out the door.

It was late afternoon, and the sun shone through the trees casting leopard spots on the gravel road as she left the cabin behind to drive down the mountain. It would be dark when she got back... the thought of making love on the plush grass, behind the cabin under the stars played in Rae’s mind. Oh yea, now she had an agenda. She sped up, kicking a flurry of dust and gravel behind her in the road. She picked up a six-pack, some cigarettes and a few candles to set the mood for later.

Night spread across the mountain like a large comforter tucking the sleepy landscape in, as Raechyl maneuvered the vehicle up the rocky trail. She imagined the feel of Graylon’s hands on her body and her panties became slick with wetness as she anticipated him on her, inside of her.Moonlight lit up the porch, and Raechyl fumbled with the paper sack and the door handle as she let herself into the cabin. She bumped the door shut with her ass, oblivious to the death-like quality of silence that filled the house.

Dumping the sack on the counter in the kitchen, Rae stripped down to bare silken tanned skin and walked naked through the dining area out onto the deck. Graylon sat deep in the hot tub, his back to her, steaming water swirled to his neck. She trembled with ecstacy and, ready to play, sneaked up on him. She slid her arms down his chest from behind and leaned in to nibble his ear...it was then that she saw the blood.That’s also when Graylon’s head rolled off his shoulders, with a sickening SPLUNK! sound into the bubbling, red water.

Her last memory was of his gorgeous green eyes, filled with blood and terror staring up at her as his head spun lifelessly in the churning water.Her jaws twisted open in a silent scream, Raechyl backed away from the scene, gagging. She puked over the deck rail and then her screams became real, shredding the night with agony.

Hugging the rail, she pulled herself up and turned her head in time to see the dark figure step out of the shadows near the door. He came toward her swiftly, enveloping her in his arms from behind. He crushed her breasts with his hands in a desperately loving yet savage manner. He clenched her chin in one gloved hand and turned her face to meet his gaze. Raechyl’s eyes glistened with fear as he thrust his tongue into her mouth for one last kiss, while simultaneously thrusting the jagged edged knife into her heart.

An hour later, the mess was cleaned up. Evidence gathered. Gasoline spread and match lit. Randy drove away from the cabin, feeling somehow younger and enlightened.. Maybe now was time to rethink his career. The brunette in the passenger seat reached over and unzipped his pants, sliding an experienced hand inside to massage an ever-growing erection. She noticed him glancing at the fiery glow in the rearview mirror. She was eager to take his mind off the dirty-work he had just done and get him ready for the dirty workout she was about to give him back at the hotel.He gave her a sidelong glance... oh yea, Tanya would definitely love him one day. She’d love him and noone else. He’d make damn sure of it.

A Cockney Romance (September 2004)

2004-09-15T01:13:00.000-04:00

"Ah, the dingy streets of Ye Merry Olde London," I think to me self whilst hurrying along the cobblestones to do the shoppin’ like me good old mum ordered me do. Here and there dirty faced lil lads scampering about and it's damned impossible to tell the thievin' buggers from the ones just out having a game with their mates. Occasionally I spot a bloke me own age sneakin a fag around a corner or havin' a pint and a laugh at a loud corner pub, but I mainly stick to me own business.

I am a serious sort, ye see, and have no time to be involving me self with the light-hearted ruffians pushing past me in the alleyways. In maybe a year or two I will be done with secondary schooling, then the A-levels, and I'd be off to one university or the other... ah to dream of what that will be like! I intend to study medicine, like me dear mum wishes, but me heart bleeds ink from the quill. Writing is in me blood! But alas, no time to dream, as I must get me chores done before me Pop gets home from the grindstone as he favors call it. He has no patience for frivolousness.

I check the list again: Dzn Fresh Eggs, 3 Fat Potato., 1 Rnd Lard and Chick Livers. I feel my throat tighten as the stomach acids swirl at the thought of the livers. Me, I am a vegetarian and cannot fathom why one would mutilate a simple chick’n merely for its liver. Nevertheless, I gather the items as I was told and collect the change in me pouch. It is time to turn for home.. bangers and mash for dinner again. Me belly churned.

I saw her then, at the corner of Durst Street and Pickaninny Lane. If she had not looked so sad, I might have passed her by as one of the local Market Square trollops. However, when I met her gaze it was one of mesmerizing melancholy. I wanted to take her in me arms and comfort her forever. And no London-bred lass has ever invoked those feelings in me chest before!That very moment, a bevy of older upmarket ladies bustled past me and in the blur of excitement and movement around me, I lost her. She no longer stood under that lamppost in her off-white frock and stringy blonde-red hair.

I spun around in a panic, not fully understanding why I was so taken with this blasted unknown female, yet even more flustered that I appeared to have lost her. Back at home, I unloaded the wares in the pantry and headed up to me dusty attic flat. Sitting down at me desk, I pulled out a quill and attempted to clear me mind for a blank slate on which to start... it bloody wouldn’t do it! Me head was all in a kerfuffle over this nameless bird from the market. I just had to see her again.

Morning came earlier than the rooster crows. I dressed with more care than usual, taking pains to don me best pair of trousers and I about fell over me self in me closet searching for the correct mates to me smartest wellies. I was off to the market, the only agenda to see me mysterious lass again. What I was to do or say (perish the thought!) should I encounter her, I was utterly awash of. That would come in due time, I hoped.

The cool spring breeze cast a chill over the otherwise serene atmosphere about the market square. I passed the inn of a busty wench who I believed to be offering passers-by a bit more than just the usual breakfast tart and juice. And then I saw her! She was on a different corner than the past day, in the same forlorn off-white frock. But today was different, her hair frolicked about her face in the breeze and I was close enough to her now to notice her eyes, a pale green offset by her sandy red hair. She took notice of me then and I was granted a slow smile that played on her lips as an angel on a harp. Perfection achieved, on an easel of gold; that was she.

Panic I did, and swept by her without a backward glance. Me heart had leapt into me throat blocking any chance of having a say with her. Blast me and me bloody shyness! She's certain to think me a full out nutter! The entire morning I spent in the refectory on a lane near that special corner. Me quill never left the paper as words poured out describing the everything/nothing feelings I was experiencing. I pondered briefly the surreal worldly knowledge that appeared in her eyes, then dismissed it. She had to be mine! Me love, me life. I knew nothing at all about this waif of a girl, except that I wanted her for me wife.And home again I went, forgoing all chores to sit in me room and ponder me love. I did not take tea, nor dinner and when the time came, nor did I sleep.

Restless at dawn, I trotted to the market again with new determination. The sun was peeking its first timid glance over the rooftops so shadows were beginning to dance in the alleys. I searched the streets, the lanes and the corners with no luck. Me heart slammed in me chest knowing I could come across her at any moment.

Suddenly I stumbled into a bloke, reeking of gin in the shadows of the alley. As I straightened me self and offered a humble apology, he grunted angrily and I discovered he had good reason. I had unknowingly sauntered into the intriguing, albeit forbidden scene of a john getting pleasured in the most illicit of positions by a local prostitute. Not intending to take a second glance, I backed away and as I turned to exit the alley, my eyes were inevitably drawn to the sandy red hair that frolicked as it intertwined the man’s legs. She pulled back from him, sliding an alabaster skinned hand across her delicate mouth and gazed up at me, almost mournfully as she licked her lips.

The man again grunted in anger and jerked his trousers back up, hastily buttoning them. “You’ll get no shilling from me, tramp! Some bed ‘n’ breakfast that stupid wench is running!” he slurred. And to me, "Better luck to ye mate, that one's a right dead flop she is!" He stormed off, stench and all. Me broken angel rose from her kneeling position on the pavement. Her come-hither gaze was one of bittersweet longing, or was it just plain bitter?

Me heart had stopped, silent as death and me eyes hazed with tears as her demure voice purred, “have you a shilling, me love?”

Me hands fumbled hastily with me belt buckle.

The Goat Story (September 2004)

2004-09-01T01:03:00.000-04:00

Trudging wearily up the steep, rocky terrain of the desolate Peruvian foothills, I found my spirit broken. Literally lying there, dashed upon the rocks in pieces. I attempted to kneel to gather it up and cradle it in my arms, only to realize I had a serious conflict of interest as my legs grew consistantly more numb and my body began to succumb to the mindless urge to collapse. Yet, my dauntless brain forced one blister smattered foot to place itself painfully in front of the other.
I would not allow myself to die in this scorching wasteland!I chose instead to address my situation and I blinked my eyes blurrily against the angry glare of the midday sun. Large orange spots hazed my vision, but in the very near distance I thought I made out what appeared to be a child-sized shack built into a rocky crevice atop the incline that I stood on at that very moment... Yes! And what a view it truly was! The barren red rock gave way to an oasis of lush, green foliage that sprouted healthily about the shack. Odd, I reasoned to see such a place and I knew not what awaited me behind that little shanty's door, but I decided to hobble forward with high hopes that it was a safe haven. Besides, I could always sneak under the window and peek inside. If whatever resided within the quaint cabin was terribly horrible and hungry, well I could always creep quietly away, retreating with relatively no shame. In times of peril or oblivion one should always have such a backup plan... and well I'd rather crumble away to a dry dusty demise in Hell-torched temperatures than be savagely devoured by a horrendous monster with snow-white fangs and razors for claws.

So ahead I wobbled, but before I could pull myself up to the window sill to sneak my peak, the front door flew open with a bang, startling me straight on my posterior! I rubbed my eyes to clear them as I gazed up in disbelief at the last creature I had imagined I would see coming out of the shack... err out of a house at all. This strange animal was at this very moment checking me out... and chewing it's cud? The goat just grinned a crooked row of teeth and offered me a hoof.

I scrambled to my aching feet with the aide of the goat, which was easier than I thought it would be considering goats do not possess digits with which to grab. His cloven hoof was polished shiny, manicured even and as for the rest of him.. well he was rather well put together. The friendly little chap even winked and disappeared, returning an instant later with a glorious basket loaded with sweet berries and cheese with which to fill my belly. I also drank my full of the sparkling clear water that bubbled forth from a nearby spring.
I napped in the shade of the goat's abode to rest my body's mulititude of complaints.The time came for me to take my leave and my new friend surprised me yet again with a water pouch and sausage links to take on the road.

So I waved farewell as I topped the hill beyond the furry little cud chewing hermit's shack as light breezes carried a bleating pearl of wisdom to me from the goat, "Miiind you, it's aaalll downhiilll froomm hee're!!!!"

2004-08-31T03:26:00.000-04:00

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