And the Bitch is gone....an exercise in writing.
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_Lynn_
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TE999 said:That is a evocative addition to this thread. Thank you, Lynn.
I think I will head North next.
Anyone else interested in contributing?
Here's your chance.
Thank you TE.
Odd where thoughts come from so early in the morning, isn't it?
Stella_Omega
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Nice one, MistressLynn! I loved the hesitancies along the journey, the two paths and their symbolism. Very visual writing, too!MistressLynn said:
TE999
How 'bout a kiss, baby
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North to a Snowy Forest
Anne was startled the first time she saw them, silvery-grey shapes flitting silently across the snow, weaving easily among the towering leafless trees. She felt no fear as she skiied across the clearing and stood motionless at the forests edge. It was as if she was living the recurring dream she had for the past seven months, the dream that had brought her to this place, this time.
Removing her goggles and ski mask, she watched as the furred shapes moved slowly closer, tails lowered, muzzles testing the air. The afternoon breeze stung her exposed skin and reddened her nose and cheeks, but she did not notice. She almost forgot to breathe when a huge male left the circling pack and walked carefully toward her, head high, pads crunching through the crusted snow.
Dropping the ski poles, she knelt with her hands to her sides, awaiting the wolf's approach, her breathing steady and her body suddenly warm. He stopped a short distance from her and sat back on his haunches, yellow-green eyes studying her carefully.
"You have come to us," a voice rang in her head, oddly reminiscent of a favorite uncle, dead for many years.
She felt no need to speak, but thought 'Why am I here? Why have you summoned me?'
"Because you are one of the pack, one of the children of the forest, an Eternal. You belong here, not in the world of mortals, not among Them"
'How did I come to walk among Them?'
"A difficulty among us, long ago. A conflict that has since been resolved. Some of us were sent wandering among Them. And one by one, you have returned. You are one of the last. Welcome, you are home."
Anne gazed into the wolf's eyes and the memories returned, tumbling through her brain, overwhelming what she once was and renewing what she had once been. Ablaze with forgotten knowledge, she speedily reshaped her body, shrugging off the last of the clothing rendolent with the smell of Them. Then she was among the pack, echoing their yips and barks of welcome, raising her muzzle in a joyous howl. As one, they melted into the forest and were gone.
***
"Damndest thing I've ever seen," muttered the Ski Rescue helicopter pilot to the flight engineer as the orange craft banked over the trees, snow still swirling in their take-off zone. "Pile of clothes, skis, backpack, that's it. No body, no signs of a struggle, no blood, nary a bone, nothin'."
"One for the books, huh?" came the reply. "How we gonna write this one up, Captain?"
"Person not found, no evidence of foul play, belongings recovered, next of kin notified," the Captain said laconically. "Hey, look down there, there's some wolves near the river."
"Beautiful animals," said the rescue jumper, coming forward to the cockpit. "Almost makes you wish you were one of 'em."
The flight engineer smiled. He decided not to tell his companions about his strange dreams and watched the wolves until they were gone from his sight.
Anne was startled the first time she saw them, silvery-grey shapes flitting silently across the snow, weaving easily among the towering leafless trees. She felt no fear as she skiied across the clearing and stood motionless at the forests edge. It was as if she was living the recurring dream she had for the past seven months, the dream that had brought her to this place, this time.
Removing her goggles and ski mask, she watched as the furred shapes moved slowly closer, tails lowered, muzzles testing the air. The afternoon breeze stung her exposed skin and reddened her nose and cheeks, but she did not notice. She almost forgot to breathe when a huge male left the circling pack and walked carefully toward her, head high, pads crunching through the crusted snow.
Dropping the ski poles, she knelt with her hands to her sides, awaiting the wolf's approach, her breathing steady and her body suddenly warm. He stopped a short distance from her and sat back on his haunches, yellow-green eyes studying her carefully.
"You have come to us," a voice rang in her head, oddly reminiscent of a favorite uncle, dead for many years.
She felt no need to speak, but thought 'Why am I here? Why have you summoned me?'
"Because you are one of the pack, one of the children of the forest, an Eternal. You belong here, not in the world of mortals, not among Them"
'How did I come to walk among Them?'
"A difficulty among us, long ago. A conflict that has since been resolved. Some of us were sent wandering among Them. And one by one, you have returned. You are one of the last. Welcome, you are home."
Anne gazed into the wolf's eyes and the memories returned, tumbling through her brain, overwhelming what she once was and renewing what she had once been. Ablaze with forgotten knowledge, she speedily reshaped her body, shrugging off the last of the clothing rendolent with the smell of Them. Then she was among the pack, echoing their yips and barks of welcome, raising her muzzle in a joyous howl. As one, they melted into the forest and were gone.
***
"Damndest thing I've ever seen," muttered the Ski Rescue helicopter pilot to the flight engineer as the orange craft banked over the trees, snow still swirling in their take-off zone. "Pile of clothes, skis, backpack, that's it. No body, no signs of a struggle, no blood, nary a bone, nothin'."
"One for the books, huh?" came the reply. "How we gonna write this one up, Captain?"
"Person not found, no evidence of foul play, belongings recovered, next of kin notified," the Captain said laconically. "Hey, look down there, there's some wolves near the river."
"Beautiful animals," said the rescue jumper, coming forward to the cockpit. "Almost makes you wish you were one of 'em."
The flight engineer smiled. He decided not to tell his companions about his strange dreams and watched the wolves until they were gone from his sight.
Fallenfromgrace
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City Street in the East
Hmmmm, i dont know where i was going with this, it kinda all just came out in what feels like an unlinked chain. But here is it nonetheless.
Gazing skyward and turning around slowly is like a kaleidoscope dream sequence in which the pieces move and distort- mirrors manipulating the image and tricking the eyes. It feels almost like being a child again. The tops of tall buildings against the powder- blue sky, mingle and turn just as i do, looking up, the glare of the sun not defeating me.
My gaze is forced back to eye-level when i am jolted by passers-by who care not for my pause in the hustle and bustle. I sigh at people's unwillingness to breathe and see what surrounds them. Adjusting the shoulder strap of my bag, i continue along the street.
The air is thick from the heat and poisoned by the fumes of man's greed for convenience. There is a wall of famous red London buses to my left and a promenade of shopes to my right. Shops which have no doubt had a drifting soul find some comfort or rest in their doorways overnight.
The faces that move towards me are varied in any number of ways, and as i watch the expressions upon my fellow metropolitans i wonder what each is thinking of in that freeze frame moment of time, should our eyes perchance, meet.
Does that nanosecond of mutual existance bond us in some inexplicable way? are we affiliates now? have i seen into the other persons soul? in a manner of speaking there is a common answer to all of these- yes.
You could get lost in this city and be found. You're a stranger and a friend, an individual and a component of something larger. Like the drifting soul that finds a home in a doorway, i feel a sense of neglect in a place so unaware of the beauty of a kaleidoscope dream.
Hmmmm, i dont know where i was going with this, it kinda all just came out in what feels like an unlinked chain. But here is it nonetheless.
Gazing skyward and turning around slowly is like a kaleidoscope dream sequence in which the pieces move and distort- mirrors manipulating the image and tricking the eyes. It feels almost like being a child again. The tops of tall buildings against the powder- blue sky, mingle and turn just as i do, looking up, the glare of the sun not defeating me.
My gaze is forced back to eye-level when i am jolted by passers-by who care not for my pause in the hustle and bustle. I sigh at people's unwillingness to breathe and see what surrounds them. Adjusting the shoulder strap of my bag, i continue along the street.
The air is thick from the heat and poisoned by the fumes of man's greed for convenience. There is a wall of famous red London buses to my left and a promenade of shopes to my right. Shops which have no doubt had a drifting soul find some comfort or rest in their doorways overnight.
The faces that move towards me are varied in any number of ways, and as i watch the expressions upon my fellow metropolitans i wonder what each is thinking of in that freeze frame moment of time, should our eyes perchance, meet.
Does that nanosecond of mutual existance bond us in some inexplicable way? are we affiliates now? have i seen into the other persons soul? in a manner of speaking there is a common answer to all of these- yes.
You could get lost in this city and be found. You're a stranger and a friend, an individual and a component of something larger. Like the drifting soul that finds a home in a doorway, i feel a sense of neglect in a place so unaware of the beauty of a kaleidoscope dream.
Last edited:
Stella_Omega
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TE999, you pack an entire plot into each one of these! It's inspirational.
Fallenfromgrace...
You could get lost in this city and be found. So beautiful, and it sums up the story so well.
Fallenfromgrace...
You could get lost in this city and be found. So beautiful, and it sums up the story so well.
TE999
How 'bout a kiss, baby
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Stella_Omega said:TE999, you pack an entire plot into each one of these! It's inspirational.
Fallenfromgrace...
You could get lost in this city and be found. So beautiful, and it sums up the story so well.
Thanks, Stella. I appreciate the fact that you are enjoying my flights of fancy.
And coming from a writer of your expertise, I feel truly complimented.
Headin' south next. Slap on some sun tan lotion.
Stella_Omega
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Hoist the mains'l!TE999 said:Thanks, Stella. I appreciate the fact that you are enjoying my flights of fancy.
And coming from a writer of your expertise, I feel truly complimented.
Headin' south next. Slap on some sun tan lotion.
Fallenfromgrace
Literotica Guru
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Stella_Omega said:TE999, you pack an entire plot into each one of these! It's inspirational.
Fallenfromgrace...
You could get lost in this city and be found. So beautiful, and it sums up the story so well.
thank you
_Lynn_
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West......a deserted town
“Ethel, come look at this movie about the west with me.”
Scuffling over slowly, her arthritic knees and feet making it hard to move some days, she made her way to the brown recliner next to George. It was his idea to get separate chairs that had the fancy machine in it that lifted you up and put you down by pushing a button. Good thing though, since she couldn’t do it anymore.
“Did it start yet George?”
He gave her a loving look, one that said he still saw her as the beautiful nineteen year old she was on their wedding day. Their love was forever, taking them through all that life had thrown at them so far.
“In a minute, Ethel. You made it, honey. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy it.”
The music started, opening the movie with a gunfight between the good guys and bad guys. They loved watching old movies together. George reached over and gently held Ethel’s hand, caressing the skin over her misshapen knuckles.
In the movie they soon saw a loving couple with a new baby, who was almost asleep when the sounds of the fight intruded, bringing loud cries from her. The mother held her close, protecting her as she softly hummed to get her to sleep. The baby was so cute, in a homemade quilt wrapped tightly around her.
“Look at that father, George. He’s putting his wife and baby in that hidden hole under the living room floor. See how he moved the rug back over the door and then the chair covered it too? How will they get out George?”
Before George could even answer, the movie was showing the mother and baby following a tunnel. Turning and twisting, it finally opened to a small room, where they found a rocker and supplies. Exhausted, she sat with her child close to her to catch her breath.
Up above, the fighting went on, furiously, with men from both sides falling from their perches and horses. Screams and cries were heard along with the sounds of the rifles.
“Oh George, how sad, that all those poor men had to die. At least the baby is safe with her mother.”
“Ethel, look by the mother, in the room there. The husband made it too. All three are there, the whole family has survived.”
Holding each other close, there are tears of joy and relief as the couple realizes how lucky they are to have escaped. In the town above, the fighting is almost over, with the people giving in.
Packing their few possessions into wagons and on horseback, they leave town for safety. No one wanted to live there with the evil men running around. Their laughter at the ladies discomfort when they use vulgar language echoed in the streets.
Soon it is just the bad guys in town. They wander from building to building, looking for food, blankets, anything to make it comfortable for them. But the people have left nothing. Cold, hungry and bored, they too soon ride away.
The movie is showing the couple with the baby, after they find their way out of the tunnel to safety. Starting a new life in a new home, working hard to make things good for their family, finding happiness.
Working together in the small barn, the couple talks of their days running from the fighting.
“Honey, remember how scared you were I wasn’t going to find you and the baby down there in the tunnel?”
“Oh, yes, and I can’t even imagine the next fifty years without you. I love you so much.”
The movie shows the town deserted, emptied by the evil men. The mother and father have made a new life for themselves, with their baby. Sitting in the clouds, watching and guarding, Ethel and George hold hands. Still in love fifty years later.
----------------------------------------
Hopefully this makes sense........[/
“Ethel, come look at this movie about the west with me.”
Scuffling over slowly, her arthritic knees and feet making it hard to move some days, she made her way to the brown recliner next to George. It was his idea to get separate chairs that had the fancy machine in it that lifted you up and put you down by pushing a button. Good thing though, since she couldn’t do it anymore.
“Did it start yet George?”
He gave her a loving look, one that said he still saw her as the beautiful nineteen year old she was on their wedding day. Their love was forever, taking them through all that life had thrown at them so far.
“In a minute, Ethel. You made it, honey. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy it.”
The music started, opening the movie with a gunfight between the good guys and bad guys. They loved watching old movies together. George reached over and gently held Ethel’s hand, caressing the skin over her misshapen knuckles.
In the movie they soon saw a loving couple with a new baby, who was almost asleep when the sounds of the fight intruded, bringing loud cries from her. The mother held her close, protecting her as she softly hummed to get her to sleep. The baby was so cute, in a homemade quilt wrapped tightly around her.
“Look at that father, George. He’s putting his wife and baby in that hidden hole under the living room floor. See how he moved the rug back over the door and then the chair covered it too? How will they get out George?”
Before George could even answer, the movie was showing the mother and baby following a tunnel. Turning and twisting, it finally opened to a small room, where they found a rocker and supplies. Exhausted, she sat with her child close to her to catch her breath.
Up above, the fighting went on, furiously, with men from both sides falling from their perches and horses. Screams and cries were heard along with the sounds of the rifles.
“Oh George, how sad, that all those poor men had to die. At least the baby is safe with her mother.”
“Ethel, look by the mother, in the room there. The husband made it too. All three are there, the whole family has survived.”
Holding each other close, there are tears of joy and relief as the couple realizes how lucky they are to have escaped. In the town above, the fighting is almost over, with the people giving in.
Packing their few possessions into wagons and on horseback, they leave town for safety. No one wanted to live there with the evil men running around. Their laughter at the ladies discomfort when they use vulgar language echoed in the streets.
Soon it is just the bad guys in town. They wander from building to building, looking for food, blankets, anything to make it comfortable for them. But the people have left nothing. Cold, hungry and bored, they too soon ride away.
The movie is showing the couple with the baby, after they find their way out of the tunnel to safety. Starting a new life in a new home, working hard to make things good for their family, finding happiness.
Working together in the small barn, the couple talks of their days running from the fighting.
“Honey, remember how scared you were I wasn’t going to find you and the baby down there in the tunnel?”
“Oh, yes, and I can’t even imagine the next fifty years without you. I love you so much.”
The movie shows the town deserted, emptied by the evil men. The mother and father have made a new life for themselves, with their baby. Sitting in the clouds, watching and guarding, Ethel and George hold hands. Still in love fifty years later.
----------------------------------------
Hopefully this makes sense........[/
TE999
How 'bout a kiss, baby
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South to the Ocean
"Seventy-five gallons, that's all I can letcha' have," growled the white-whiskered old man as he replaced the nozzle on the dockside pump. "Boss says no more credit 'till you pay somethin' on your tab."
"No problem, Gus," Del replied, his suntanned face split in a toothy grin, "It's the Big Strike today, buddy, I can feel it." Fastening the cap on the tank, he caught the mooring line Gus threw to him and nodded to Bonnie. She waved and gunned the engine, pulling the converted trawler away from the dock, heading for the channel and the open water beyond.
"Let's try that spot off Buccaneer's Point," Del hollered over the roar of the diesel, "I got a good feeling about it." Bonnie spun the wheel to port and pushed the throttle lever forward, sending the 'Mary Jane' wallowing through the whitecaps, enjoying the sun and salt spray on her face. She and Del had been together for almost ten years after meeting at a beach party in Charleston, getting drunk together and waking up married the next morning courtesy of a 24 hour wedding chapel.
They had both grown up near the ocean, it was a second home to them and they were never far away from it. Both had worked as deckhands on fishing boats and as crew members on yachts. They lived simply and were happy just being together, content with being at sea and wherever life took them.
Del had caught the treasure hunting fever two years ago when a drinking buddy of his shipped out on an expedition to find a sunken galleon off Florida and returned with a fistful of cash and gold piece-of-eight in his pocket. Listening to his friends stories, Del was hooked, and Bonnie went where Del went, so their quest for treasure began. Months of fruitless searching, weeks of frustrating dives, days following leads that yielded nothing began to take their toll. Both were becoming discouraged, but refused to give up as long as there was the chance that 'The Big Strike' could be today.
"Please be careful, sugar, the current's tricky out here," Bonnie said as she handed Del his weight belt then checked the straps on his air tanks and the calibration on his regulator.
"I sure will, babe," Del replied, squeezing her bikini-clad ass and giving her a salty kiss. "I'm just goin down for a look-see and then I'll be back. Get that sand hose ready just in case." He pulled on his diving mask, secured the breathing tubes mouthpiece, vaulted backwards into the emerald water and was gone.
Bonnie checked the gauges on the air pump, uncoiled the hose and pulled on the starter cord. Two tugs and the motor coughed into life, sending a powerful rush of air through the thick hose's nozzle, strong enough to move tons of sand in mere moments. Del's head broke the surface, eyes alight through his mask, waving frantically for the hose.
Del's heart pounded as he swept the sand carefully away from the ships hull timbers he had spied after entering the water. They were not visible the last time they were here, it must have been the storm last weekend...then he saw it, a glint in the diffused sunlight.
Turning the nozzle to it's lowest setting, he carefully swept the sand away, sending a steady stream of fine grains and air bubbles to the surface. One by one the piles of gold bars and coins became visible, glowing brightly although submerged for hundreds of years, the chests and bags that once held them long rotted away. Del shoved a handful of coins in the pocket of his trunks, placed two gold bars in the string bag fastened to his waist and headed toward the surface. The Big Strike had come at last.
***
Gus was standing on the fuel dock when he saw the 'Mary Jane' tying up at the starboard slip. Del and Bonnie stepped onto the dock, grinning like newlyweds and walked hand in hand towards him. Del pressed something cool into his hand and said, "Keep an eye on her for us willya', buddy. We have a little something to attend to."
"Sort of a second honeymoon," laughed Bonnie, giving Del a sloppy kiss.
"Which means we're gonna get drunk and screw," Del replied, "C'mon babe, I'm cravin' a cold one and then a hot one." He winked at Gus, "Big Strike, man, Big Strike."
Gus watched them walk down the dock, hugging and laughing. He opened his hand and his mouth fell open as he saw the shiny gold coin.
"They did it, The Big Strike," he muttered. "Son-of-a-bitch, they did it."
"Seventy-five gallons, that's all I can letcha' have," growled the white-whiskered old man as he replaced the nozzle on the dockside pump. "Boss says no more credit 'till you pay somethin' on your tab."
"No problem, Gus," Del replied, his suntanned face split in a toothy grin, "It's the Big Strike today, buddy, I can feel it." Fastening the cap on the tank, he caught the mooring line Gus threw to him and nodded to Bonnie. She waved and gunned the engine, pulling the converted trawler away from the dock, heading for the channel and the open water beyond.
"Let's try that spot off Buccaneer's Point," Del hollered over the roar of the diesel, "I got a good feeling about it." Bonnie spun the wheel to port and pushed the throttle lever forward, sending the 'Mary Jane' wallowing through the whitecaps, enjoying the sun and salt spray on her face. She and Del had been together for almost ten years after meeting at a beach party in Charleston, getting drunk together and waking up married the next morning courtesy of a 24 hour wedding chapel.
They had both grown up near the ocean, it was a second home to them and they were never far away from it. Both had worked as deckhands on fishing boats and as crew members on yachts. They lived simply and were happy just being together, content with being at sea and wherever life took them.
Del had caught the treasure hunting fever two years ago when a drinking buddy of his shipped out on an expedition to find a sunken galleon off Florida and returned with a fistful of cash and gold piece-of-eight in his pocket. Listening to his friends stories, Del was hooked, and Bonnie went where Del went, so their quest for treasure began. Months of fruitless searching, weeks of frustrating dives, days following leads that yielded nothing began to take their toll. Both were becoming discouraged, but refused to give up as long as there was the chance that 'The Big Strike' could be today.
"Please be careful, sugar, the current's tricky out here," Bonnie said as she handed Del his weight belt then checked the straps on his air tanks and the calibration on his regulator.
"I sure will, babe," Del replied, squeezing her bikini-clad ass and giving her a salty kiss. "I'm just goin down for a look-see and then I'll be back. Get that sand hose ready just in case." He pulled on his diving mask, secured the breathing tubes mouthpiece, vaulted backwards into the emerald water and was gone.
Bonnie checked the gauges on the air pump, uncoiled the hose and pulled on the starter cord. Two tugs and the motor coughed into life, sending a powerful rush of air through the thick hose's nozzle, strong enough to move tons of sand in mere moments. Del's head broke the surface, eyes alight through his mask, waving frantically for the hose.
Del's heart pounded as he swept the sand carefully away from the ships hull timbers he had spied after entering the water. They were not visible the last time they were here, it must have been the storm last weekend...then he saw it, a glint in the diffused sunlight.
Turning the nozzle to it's lowest setting, he carefully swept the sand away, sending a steady stream of fine grains and air bubbles to the surface. One by one the piles of gold bars and coins became visible, glowing brightly although submerged for hundreds of years, the chests and bags that once held them long rotted away. Del shoved a handful of coins in the pocket of his trunks, placed two gold bars in the string bag fastened to his waist and headed toward the surface. The Big Strike had come at last.
***
Gus was standing on the fuel dock when he saw the 'Mary Jane' tying up at the starboard slip. Del and Bonnie stepped onto the dock, grinning like newlyweds and walked hand in hand towards him. Del pressed something cool into his hand and said, "Keep an eye on her for us willya', buddy. We have a little something to attend to."
"Sort of a second honeymoon," laughed Bonnie, giving Del a sloppy kiss.
"Which means we're gonna get drunk and screw," Del replied, "C'mon babe, I'm cravin' a cold one and then a hot one." He winked at Gus, "Big Strike, man, Big Strike."
Gus watched them walk down the dock, hugging and laughing. He opened his hand and his mouth fell open as he saw the shiny gold coin.
"They did it, The Big Strike," he muttered. "Son-of-a-bitch, they did it."
fcdc
Really Really Experienced
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- Feb 17, 2007
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I started on 'east' and it turned into a 4k story, just submitted.
Here is the start of it.
-----
Welcome to Prague
“Who but a bad, fearless, strungout, crazy motherfucker would come to Czechago? And we were motherfucking bad. We pissed and shit and fucked in public; we crossed streets on red lights; and we opened Coke bottles with our teeth. We were constantly stoned or tripping on every drug known to man. We were the outlaw forces of Amerika displaying ourselves flagrantly on a world stage.” – Jerry Rubin.
*****
Burned and beaten, but unbowed, the city hunched before Connie, a vast, empty expanse of carbureted, incinerated metal, some iron slabs standing tall and blunt like monoliths, and others twisted into fanciful Gothic forms. She heard the jake brake screech on the next bus in line to park at the Loop station and saw her own pull away. Her shoulder ached already from having carried the knapsack through the rabbit warren of the bus station.
They said both of the main cabbie companies were striking, and she wasn’t surprised. Not a single taxi had driven past her since she had headed out the revolving door of the station, and she was dead in the middle of Chicago.
This was not what she had expected upon heading to cover the Convention.
She hadn’t been writing for the paper a long time, but they had sent her on assignment anyway. Chicago was a place she’d wanted to see for a while, and the convention had seemed the perfect way to see it. There was something strangely isolationist about the city, though, and she shivered a little as she left the station, trying to hail a CTA bus to Halsted and the Stock Yards.
*****
Tan and in his early twenties, the guy would have been good-looking if he had gotten a haircut. His dishwater blond hair was stringy and too long, but he was clean for a Yippie, and he could have been handsome a few years ago in a school yearbook. He was about her age, and he had been on the bus to Halsted. She hadn’t noticed him, though, so when they went out the front door of the bus, Connie offered the stranger a smile. Visions of Janet Leigh in ‘Psycho’ flew through her head. This is how bad things start, she thought, but she had already smiled, and he was smiling back by now.
She had seen guys amongst the hippies and Yippies who were dressed far worse than he was. The shoe-length coat, army green and a few sizes too big, was of course a requirement, but his jeans were clean, and only one knee was ripped. Besides the too-long hair, he had a nice face, with deep-set, sparkling eyes and an energetic grin. ‘Property is Theft,’ proclaimed a patch on his motorcycle bag, and true to his word, it arced wide around him as he turned away from the bus, making him an easy target for pickpockets.
“Cop?”
She shook her head.
“Cop’s secretary. You look like a secretary.”
Another headshake. Maybe he was teasing her. She wasn’t sure.
“What, then?”
“A reporter. From Cleveland.”
That got a reaction, but not the one that Connie had expected. For someone who probably told everyone that he hated the establishment, a brief flicker of impressed delight twinkled in his eye for a moment. His voice was studiously even, nonetheless. “Huh. How ‘bout that. I used to write for my school paper. Tom Moreno.”
“Connie Schultz.”
“That’s a hell of a newspaper name.” He might have been teasing her again; his tone was suitably light, but his face was set in a hard line. It quirked upwards, and he repeated, “Connie Schultz, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t suppose you can get me entrance to the Center the next few days. I’d love to meet McCarthy.”
So would I, Connie thought, but she shook her head. “You’ve got as good a chance as me. I’m just going to be in the press box. You’d get a better view on TV.”
Tom didn’t seem bothered by the denial. He started walking, the army bag swinging alongside him, his booted feet clunking as their medal soles hit the pavement. A hand reached up absently, scraping away his long hair from his face. “I can promise you something better to watch than a whole bunch of suited fascists and a few honest guys. Come with me.”
Was this how Peter Pan had gotten Wendy into so much trouble? He had the same boyish enthusiasm as the eternal youth, and she stared at him for a long moment, feeling squarer than she had ever imagined.
“It’ll be an adventure,” he added.
Connie nodded, although her head felt light and she felt dizzy. “All right.”
His grin broadened. “All right!” he repeated, although it was more approval than agreement.
*****
If this was where they were living, Connie wondered how they could have made it through the week. From the look of their camp, though, they had done just that, and she grimaced at the sight of it. The hippies were supposed to be all about saving the planet, but the litter and debris and the tents that sat there, scraggly and straggling, made her think of only destruction.
Margaret Mead would have a field day in this camp, she thought, and watched Tom as he stopped at one tent to say something quickly and quietly to them, and murmured to another group of people. There was a strange feeling of conspiracy, something that bothered her but that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“What’s going on, Tom?” They’d stopped off for Cokes before they made their way to the parks on Clark Street, and she took a sip from her glass bottle as she waited for his reply. “These are your people. Got that. They’re your friends. But there’s something going on.”
He scoffed at her question. “There’s not enough going on. Not yet.” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them as if he was a stage villain in preparation for a deathblow, and she wondered about that. These folks were as weird as she had been led to believe, but at least they were earnest, and at least they would make for good writing.
He stopped at a canvas-and-pegs structure that she might have believed to be a tent if it hadn’t been in the process of falling apart. No one was in there, and he flopped out on the expanse, arms and legs akimbo.
“There will be something going on soon, though,” he told the ceiling of the tent, and she moved to sit down next to him, Indian-style, resting her hands on her knees. She didn’t dare touch anything in the park. God only knew what had contaminated it. “I’m not one of the big guys, but I’ve got my own stuff going on.” He propped himself up on an elbow, studying her. “Get ready. The times, they are a-changing.” There was dripping sarcasm in the Dylan quote.
She had expected to be in a hotel near the convention center, and now she was ten miles away from it, in some crappy park with the next worst thing to a derelict, but she felt less bothered by it than she had expected to be. “The convention?”
He nodded. “Fuck ‘em all, man. McCarthy’s all right, but they’re all fucks.”
She longed to tell him that the hatred solved nothing, but she would only earn scoffing. She kept her mouth shut, as much as she longed to talk.
Silent and seemingly thoughtful, Tom reached up into the ceiling of the tent, drawing down a plastic sandwich bag. She thought it was strange that nobody had stolen anything. At least the Yippies were honest – grungy, yes, but they weren’t thieves. He held the bag up with pinched fingertips, showing it to her. Some dried green crap that looked like oregano was contained within, and he extended it to her in offer.
Tip and papers naturally followed, and Tom was impressed that she knew how to roll her own cigarette. He sat watching her silently, but as she licked the paper to glue it together, he let out a low, impressed whistle. When she set fire to it and stuck it in her mouth, he told her, “I didn’t think you’d ever smoked before. You look like you work for the Man.”
“I do,” she said, and exhaled.
-----
Wait and see what happens from there.
Here is the start of it.
-----
Welcome to Prague
“Who but a bad, fearless, strungout, crazy motherfucker would come to Czechago? And we were motherfucking bad. We pissed and shit and fucked in public; we crossed streets on red lights; and we opened Coke bottles with our teeth. We were constantly stoned or tripping on every drug known to man. We were the outlaw forces of Amerika displaying ourselves flagrantly on a world stage.” – Jerry Rubin.
*****
Burned and beaten, but unbowed, the city hunched before Connie, a vast, empty expanse of carbureted, incinerated metal, some iron slabs standing tall and blunt like monoliths, and others twisted into fanciful Gothic forms. She heard the jake brake screech on the next bus in line to park at the Loop station and saw her own pull away. Her shoulder ached already from having carried the knapsack through the rabbit warren of the bus station.
They said both of the main cabbie companies were striking, and she wasn’t surprised. Not a single taxi had driven past her since she had headed out the revolving door of the station, and she was dead in the middle of Chicago.
This was not what she had expected upon heading to cover the Convention.
She hadn’t been writing for the paper a long time, but they had sent her on assignment anyway. Chicago was a place she’d wanted to see for a while, and the convention had seemed the perfect way to see it. There was something strangely isolationist about the city, though, and she shivered a little as she left the station, trying to hail a CTA bus to Halsted and the Stock Yards.
*****
Tan and in his early twenties, the guy would have been good-looking if he had gotten a haircut. His dishwater blond hair was stringy and too long, but he was clean for a Yippie, and he could have been handsome a few years ago in a school yearbook. He was about her age, and he had been on the bus to Halsted. She hadn’t noticed him, though, so when they went out the front door of the bus, Connie offered the stranger a smile. Visions of Janet Leigh in ‘Psycho’ flew through her head. This is how bad things start, she thought, but she had already smiled, and he was smiling back by now.
She had seen guys amongst the hippies and Yippies who were dressed far worse than he was. The shoe-length coat, army green and a few sizes too big, was of course a requirement, but his jeans were clean, and only one knee was ripped. Besides the too-long hair, he had a nice face, with deep-set, sparkling eyes and an energetic grin. ‘Property is Theft,’ proclaimed a patch on his motorcycle bag, and true to his word, it arced wide around him as he turned away from the bus, making him an easy target for pickpockets.
“Cop?”
She shook her head.
“Cop’s secretary. You look like a secretary.”
Another headshake. Maybe he was teasing her. She wasn’t sure.
“What, then?”
“A reporter. From Cleveland.”
That got a reaction, but not the one that Connie had expected. For someone who probably told everyone that he hated the establishment, a brief flicker of impressed delight twinkled in his eye for a moment. His voice was studiously even, nonetheless. “Huh. How ‘bout that. I used to write for my school paper. Tom Moreno.”
“Connie Schultz.”
“That’s a hell of a newspaper name.” He might have been teasing her again; his tone was suitably light, but his face was set in a hard line. It quirked upwards, and he repeated, “Connie Schultz, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t suppose you can get me entrance to the Center the next few days. I’d love to meet McCarthy.”
So would I, Connie thought, but she shook her head. “You’ve got as good a chance as me. I’m just going to be in the press box. You’d get a better view on TV.”
Tom didn’t seem bothered by the denial. He started walking, the army bag swinging alongside him, his booted feet clunking as their medal soles hit the pavement. A hand reached up absently, scraping away his long hair from his face. “I can promise you something better to watch than a whole bunch of suited fascists and a few honest guys. Come with me.”
Was this how Peter Pan had gotten Wendy into so much trouble? He had the same boyish enthusiasm as the eternal youth, and she stared at him for a long moment, feeling squarer than she had ever imagined.
“It’ll be an adventure,” he added.
Connie nodded, although her head felt light and she felt dizzy. “All right.”
His grin broadened. “All right!” he repeated, although it was more approval than agreement.
*****
If this was where they were living, Connie wondered how they could have made it through the week. From the look of their camp, though, they had done just that, and she grimaced at the sight of it. The hippies were supposed to be all about saving the planet, but the litter and debris and the tents that sat there, scraggly and straggling, made her think of only destruction.
Margaret Mead would have a field day in this camp, she thought, and watched Tom as he stopped at one tent to say something quickly and quietly to them, and murmured to another group of people. There was a strange feeling of conspiracy, something that bothered her but that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“What’s going on, Tom?” They’d stopped off for Cokes before they made their way to the parks on Clark Street, and she took a sip from her glass bottle as she waited for his reply. “These are your people. Got that. They’re your friends. But there’s something going on.”
He scoffed at her question. “There’s not enough going on. Not yet.” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them as if he was a stage villain in preparation for a deathblow, and she wondered about that. These folks were as weird as she had been led to believe, but at least they were earnest, and at least they would make for good writing.
He stopped at a canvas-and-pegs structure that she might have believed to be a tent if it hadn’t been in the process of falling apart. No one was in there, and he flopped out on the expanse, arms and legs akimbo.
“There will be something going on soon, though,” he told the ceiling of the tent, and she moved to sit down next to him, Indian-style, resting her hands on her knees. She didn’t dare touch anything in the park. God only knew what had contaminated it. “I’m not one of the big guys, but I’ve got my own stuff going on.” He propped himself up on an elbow, studying her. “Get ready. The times, they are a-changing.” There was dripping sarcasm in the Dylan quote.
She had expected to be in a hotel near the convention center, and now she was ten miles away from it, in some crappy park with the next worst thing to a derelict, but she felt less bothered by it than she had expected to be. “The convention?”
He nodded. “Fuck ‘em all, man. McCarthy’s all right, but they’re all fucks.”
She longed to tell him that the hatred solved nothing, but she would only earn scoffing. She kept her mouth shut, as much as she longed to talk.
Silent and seemingly thoughtful, Tom reached up into the ceiling of the tent, drawing down a plastic sandwich bag. She thought it was strange that nobody had stolen anything. At least the Yippies were honest – grungy, yes, but they weren’t thieves. He held the bag up with pinched fingertips, showing it to her. Some dried green crap that looked like oregano was contained within, and he extended it to her in offer.
Tip and papers naturally followed, and Tom was impressed that she knew how to roll her own cigarette. He sat watching her silently, but as she licked the paper to glue it together, he let out a low, impressed whistle. When she set fire to it and stuck it in her mouth, he told her, “I didn’t think you’d ever smoked before. You look like you work for the Man.”
“I do,” she said, and exhaled.
-----
Wait and see what happens from there.
Last edited:
Fallenfromgrace
Literotica Guru
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- Oct 13, 2006
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North- Snowy Forest
Where is she? is the only thought racing through my mind as my legs carry me at an alarming rate through the dense forest.
My feet sink with every step in the pure white snow covering the forest floor. Its not so cold- or at least it wouldnt be if i were wearing more than a tank top and shorts. Luckily I had enough sense to slip on my Vans before leaving the cabin. Why wasn't i awake enough to realise i'd need clothes too?
She's the spontaneous one, always has been, 2 days notice before flying out to Barbados, a dramatic haircut and a picnic with wolves, amongst other things. Somehow however, i think a game of 'catch me if you can' at 4am on a weekend away in a log cabin in the middle of a secluded forest is pushing it.
The sound of snow compressing underfoot is melodic in the pin drop silence as i make haste in the eerie excuse for morning light. The snow had ceased falling when i first emerged, but now i can feel more flakes sliding over my skin. I look up at the sky through the tree canopy many feet overhead. I wish i knew what trees these were, redwoods? damnit i dont know, they're huge though. Beautiful even.
What is it they say? follow the north star home? i cant see any stars as i look upwards, its getting light. I would probably end up in South America trying to follow the 'north' star anyway. I sigh heavily but shake it off soon enough, still allowing the snowflakes to fall onto my upturned face.
Whoooosh! the unmistakable feel of her running past me, her laugh echoing in the forest. Damn her for being so light footed! Regaining my distrubed balance, i frantically search around me, as deep into the trees as i can, but she's nowhere to be seen. I persevere with my light jog- refusing to be more strenuous, looking around for her as the snow continues to fall into my hair and against my skin.
''Jess!! come on! its cold!'' i call out as i pause and slowly three-sixty.
Sighing i start to walk back to the cabin. Dusting out my hair to no avail as more snow falls, i stiffle a yawn and wrap my arms around myself. I continue looking about me to find where Jess has got to, i'm not aware of her presence until she's on top of me.
Spitting snow from my mouth i groan and feel myself being turned over. Her plump lips find mine, her body pressing me into the blanket of snow as she kisses me slowly.
''I love you, Lucy.'' she whispers agaisnt my lips, her fingers entwining with mine and pressing into the snow out at our sides.
''Now is not the time or place to expand our portfolio of crazy sexual venues, somehow.'' i whisper with a smile, in response as she pulls away.
''Shhhh, i just want to make a snow angel with you. We'll save the rest for the rug in front of the fire.'' she whispers with a soft laugh.
Leaning up, i captured her lips between mine, as the kiss intensifies, our arms and legs moving together, hers pressing into mine, an indent taking shape in the otherwise pristine snow.
''I love you too.''
Where is she? is the only thought racing through my mind as my legs carry me at an alarming rate through the dense forest.
My feet sink with every step in the pure white snow covering the forest floor. Its not so cold- or at least it wouldnt be if i were wearing more than a tank top and shorts. Luckily I had enough sense to slip on my Vans before leaving the cabin. Why wasn't i awake enough to realise i'd need clothes too?
She's the spontaneous one, always has been, 2 days notice before flying out to Barbados, a dramatic haircut and a picnic with wolves, amongst other things. Somehow however, i think a game of 'catch me if you can' at 4am on a weekend away in a log cabin in the middle of a secluded forest is pushing it.
The sound of snow compressing underfoot is melodic in the pin drop silence as i make haste in the eerie excuse for morning light. The snow had ceased falling when i first emerged, but now i can feel more flakes sliding over my skin. I look up at the sky through the tree canopy many feet overhead. I wish i knew what trees these were, redwoods? damnit i dont know, they're huge though. Beautiful even.
What is it they say? follow the north star home? i cant see any stars as i look upwards, its getting light. I would probably end up in South America trying to follow the 'north' star anyway. I sigh heavily but shake it off soon enough, still allowing the snowflakes to fall onto my upturned face.
Whoooosh! the unmistakable feel of her running past me, her laugh echoing in the forest. Damn her for being so light footed! Regaining my distrubed balance, i frantically search around me, as deep into the trees as i can, but she's nowhere to be seen. I persevere with my light jog- refusing to be more strenuous, looking around for her as the snow continues to fall into my hair and against my skin.
''Jess!! come on! its cold!'' i call out as i pause and slowly three-sixty.
Sighing i start to walk back to the cabin. Dusting out my hair to no avail as more snow falls, i stiffle a yawn and wrap my arms around myself. I continue looking about me to find where Jess has got to, i'm not aware of her presence until she's on top of me.
Spitting snow from my mouth i groan and feel myself being turned over. Her plump lips find mine, her body pressing me into the blanket of snow as she kisses me slowly.
''I love you, Lucy.'' she whispers agaisnt my lips, her fingers entwining with mine and pressing into the snow out at our sides.
''Now is not the time or place to expand our portfolio of crazy sexual venues, somehow.'' i whisper with a smile, in response as she pulls away.
''Shhhh, i just want to make a snow angel with you. We'll save the rest for the rug in front of the fire.'' she whispers with a soft laugh.
Leaning up, i captured her lips between mine, as the kiss intensifies, our arms and legs moving together, hers pressing into mine, an indent taking shape in the otherwise pristine snow.
''I love you too.''
Last edited:
Stella_Omega
No Gentleman
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- Jul 14, 2005
- Posts
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Fallenfromgrace;
EEEEE! Gorgeous, gorgeous!
Oh, so hot!
EEEEE! Gorgeous, gorgeous!
Oh, so hot!
Fallenfromgrace
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2006
- Posts
- 12,322
Stella_Omega said:Fallenfromgrace;
EEEEE! Gorgeous, gorgeous!
Oh, so hot!
thank you stella
where are yours?
ps. big sis was around today
Fallenfromgrace
Literotica Guru
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- Oct 13, 2006
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West will take you to a deserted village.
Random, just came out...
''Kisses and lemonade, you promised.'' the tanning woman pouted as she propped her shovel up and leaned against it.
''yes, but i promised those before i realised you'd drag me to the middle of nowhere on this crusade.'' replied the approaching woman.
''Hmmph.''
The shovel was up, under, and tossing over a mix of sand and cement. Again, again and again.
~~
The land outside the imaginary boundary of the wooden buildings was arrid and vast. The water had all but evaporated long ago, courtesy of the fireball high in the sky. The sandy coloured ground was cracked and powdery. The rare winds that touched this valley would stir up a storm of dust and sand so dense that one would lose sight of their arm if it were extended towards the ground rooted cloud.
The effects of the sun had chased the last inhabitants of the town out last year, towards more habitable terrain. Most staggered outside the boundary suffering the dehydration that had forced the burial of 21 townsfolk in the 12 months before they themselves left. The 21st burial had been of Father Jacobson, the town's priest.
Many of the families who had lived in this remote village in the valley had lived there all their lives, and the same could be said of the several generations that came before them. Father Jacobson had witnessed the birth's, baptisms, marraiges and deaths of the residents for nearly 40 years. Finally it had been his own passing that was presided over by someone who wasn't him for once.
~~~
''Quit sulking, i cant find your lemonade in the van, but i'll make up for it with kisses, how's that?'' the blonde said with hands at her hips.
The shoveler pretended not to hear. Though in the silence around the two, this was impossible.
''are you going to pout all day? do you know how long a day is in this place? its damn near 20 hours. You're gonna have to smile some time.'' the blonde said asshe swayed towards the woman.
''Grab the hose would you, Sue?''
The blonde stopped and grit her teeth and turned on her heals to unhook the hosepipe from the back of the van and pulled it over to her partner who was tugging at the fabric of her vest and mopping her brow with the back of her hand.
''here.'' Sue said, holding out the pipe violently.
''spray in the middle for me...i'll tell you when.''
''what? no, i dont think so, im gonna get crap sprayed back at me, like hell am i getting these designer whites ruined. Look at my shoes!''
The tanning woman stopped her shovelling and looked at her partner quizically. The two could not be any less alike- Sue in her crisp whites and designer sunglasses, who would throw a fit if one of her $40 manicured nails chipped, and had never done a hard days work in her life, unless you called the opening and closing of her cell 'hard work'. Christina on the other hand, felt that there was much more to life than the superficialities of the Los Angeles life Sue had beenbrought up in. She wore whatever she wanted, much to Sue's disgust, but Sue had long since given up trying to change her.
The two, however, found themselves madly in love despite all their differences. Neither could explain it, and neither had been looking when they crossed paths 3 years ago.
''You shouldnt have worn white. I warned you.'' Chris took the hose and deliberately sprayed water into the powdery mix so that some would spatter on her partner.
''ARggh!'' Sue screeched. Most unladylike, Chris thought as she tried to contain her laughter. ''You did that on purpose!'' Chris yelled as she held her armsout to her sides, gesturing at the grey-brown spatters on the front of her outfit.
''What? it gives the outfit character.''
They always played this way, the competition was to see who broke down first and 'punished' the other.
''Damnit Chris! its not funny!''
Chris shrugged and turned the hose off, grabbing her shovel again and pushing under, and tossing over the mix into the water. She grunted softly as she heaved the concrete up and down, mixing skillfully, her biceps working overtime, sweat forming on every exposed area of skin.
The new bricklaying begun. Sue watched and commented about her big strong, butch girlfriend, and Chris rolled her eyes and celebrated her all roundedness.
~~~~
The town actually looked just as depicted in those old westerns, where John Wayne would ride tall on a horse, leading his men over the unexplored west. The same wooden hut like homes, clustered around a small church which doubled as a school hall. Only the school was shut once all the attendees had been claimed and set to rest.
The smell was the same as one would imagine it, musky, thick with dirt, the colours all varying shades of brown, the heat...sweltering, just as it always had been.
~~~~~
''You know, this place used to be someone's home.'' Chris whispered softly as the two women lay out under the now starry sky.
''It's a shame isnt it?'' the blonde whispered as she pulled closer to her partner.
''It would be nice to get this place going again, revisit some of what was here before. The atmosphere...the people that make this existance out here, their very lives.''
''Why does it have to be your crusade?'' Sue whispered into her lover's ear before nibbling on her earlobe playfully.
''Not mine, ours. And because its time i gave something back and left my mark.''
''What is this, some kind of butchy dyke thing?'' Sue teased.
''shut it and give me those kisses you promised.'' Chris laughed and pulled her in for a kiss.
~~~~~~
Perhaps the village wouldn't remain uninhabited forever.
Random, just came out...
''Kisses and lemonade, you promised.'' the tanning woman pouted as she propped her shovel up and leaned against it.
''yes, but i promised those before i realised you'd drag me to the middle of nowhere on this crusade.'' replied the approaching woman.
''Hmmph.''
The shovel was up, under, and tossing over a mix of sand and cement. Again, again and again.
~~
The land outside the imaginary boundary of the wooden buildings was arrid and vast. The water had all but evaporated long ago, courtesy of the fireball high in the sky. The sandy coloured ground was cracked and powdery. The rare winds that touched this valley would stir up a storm of dust and sand so dense that one would lose sight of their arm if it were extended towards the ground rooted cloud.
The effects of the sun had chased the last inhabitants of the town out last year, towards more habitable terrain. Most staggered outside the boundary suffering the dehydration that had forced the burial of 21 townsfolk in the 12 months before they themselves left. The 21st burial had been of Father Jacobson, the town's priest.
Many of the families who had lived in this remote village in the valley had lived there all their lives, and the same could be said of the several generations that came before them. Father Jacobson had witnessed the birth's, baptisms, marraiges and deaths of the residents for nearly 40 years. Finally it had been his own passing that was presided over by someone who wasn't him for once.
~~~
''Quit sulking, i cant find your lemonade in the van, but i'll make up for it with kisses, how's that?'' the blonde said with hands at her hips.
The shoveler pretended not to hear. Though in the silence around the two, this was impossible.
''are you going to pout all day? do you know how long a day is in this place? its damn near 20 hours. You're gonna have to smile some time.'' the blonde said asshe swayed towards the woman.
''Grab the hose would you, Sue?''
The blonde stopped and grit her teeth and turned on her heals to unhook the hosepipe from the back of the van and pulled it over to her partner who was tugging at the fabric of her vest and mopping her brow with the back of her hand.
''here.'' Sue said, holding out the pipe violently.
''spray in the middle for me...i'll tell you when.''
''what? no, i dont think so, im gonna get crap sprayed back at me, like hell am i getting these designer whites ruined. Look at my shoes!''
The tanning woman stopped her shovelling and looked at her partner quizically. The two could not be any less alike- Sue in her crisp whites and designer sunglasses, who would throw a fit if one of her $40 manicured nails chipped, and had never done a hard days work in her life, unless you called the opening and closing of her cell 'hard work'. Christina on the other hand, felt that there was much more to life than the superficialities of the Los Angeles life Sue had beenbrought up in. She wore whatever she wanted, much to Sue's disgust, but Sue had long since given up trying to change her.
The two, however, found themselves madly in love despite all their differences. Neither could explain it, and neither had been looking when they crossed paths 3 years ago.
''You shouldnt have worn white. I warned you.'' Chris took the hose and deliberately sprayed water into the powdery mix so that some would spatter on her partner.
''ARggh!'' Sue screeched. Most unladylike, Chris thought as she tried to contain her laughter. ''You did that on purpose!'' Chris yelled as she held her armsout to her sides, gesturing at the grey-brown spatters on the front of her outfit.
''What? it gives the outfit character.''
They always played this way, the competition was to see who broke down first and 'punished' the other.
''Damnit Chris! its not funny!''
Chris shrugged and turned the hose off, grabbing her shovel again and pushing under, and tossing over the mix into the water. She grunted softly as she heaved the concrete up and down, mixing skillfully, her biceps working overtime, sweat forming on every exposed area of skin.
The new bricklaying begun. Sue watched and commented about her big strong, butch girlfriend, and Chris rolled her eyes and celebrated her all roundedness.
~~~~
The town actually looked just as depicted in those old westerns, where John Wayne would ride tall on a horse, leading his men over the unexplored west. The same wooden hut like homes, clustered around a small church which doubled as a school hall. Only the school was shut once all the attendees had been claimed and set to rest.
The smell was the same as one would imagine it, musky, thick with dirt, the colours all varying shades of brown, the heat...sweltering, just as it always had been.
~~~~~
''You know, this place used to be someone's home.'' Chris whispered softly as the two women lay out under the now starry sky.
''It's a shame isnt it?'' the blonde whispered as she pulled closer to her partner.
''It would be nice to get this place going again, revisit some of what was here before. The atmosphere...the people that make this existance out here, their very lives.''
''Why does it have to be your crusade?'' Sue whispered into her lover's ear before nibbling on her earlobe playfully.
''Not mine, ours. And because its time i gave something back and left my mark.''
''What is this, some kind of butchy dyke thing?'' Sue teased.
''shut it and give me those kisses you promised.'' Chris laughed and pulled her in for a kiss.
~~~~~~
Perhaps the village wouldn't remain uninhabited forever.
Stella_Omega
No Gentleman
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- Jul 14, 2005
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Oh, that's wonderful!
Goldie Munro
Miss Imperfect
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- Aug 11, 2003
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- 3,189
I admire you all so much for such brilliant writing but also for showing it here - I dont think I could do it.
The north and the snow is calling me...
The north and the snow is calling me...
impressive
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ABSTRUSE
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impressive
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