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Angeleyz's Doodles From Her Noodle

Accidental Spy?

Rudderless after the death of her grandmother who had raised her since the early death of her parents, Jessica had jumped at the unexpected offer from one of her grandmother's old friends. The opportunity to have a free semester abroad where all she'd have to do in return was take pictures of various buildings for an architecture project seemed like a perfect way to figure out what she was going to do with her life. Little did she realize it was a little too perfect.

*****

He had been sent in during the wee hours of the night to do an extraction of an agent whose cover had been blown, but unfortunately she didn't seem to realize she even was an agent. Now he had to figure out a way to keep one step ahead of the bad guys while battling her skepticism and distrust.
 
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There's definitely a story, rbijon... Some day it will get told.

And Logan... I'm pretty sure we agreed no feathers but my angels wings.... :eek:
 
LoganDarkHolme said:
well, You swore, but i dont recall the pinky, but i do remember my fingers and your skin......
Click to expand...

Hmmmm, perhaps you're correct... *shivering at the memories*

And rbijon, I have lots of doodles... Some more doodled than others. :rolleyes:
 
In case I want to keep working this one on my own...

It wasn't often that our schedules all aligned for a girls night out, and I had really been looking forward to it. Work had been awful these last few weeks, and my home life wasn't much better. All I wanted was a couple hours of letting my hair down and having a good time with the girls, and then I could go back to worrying about whether I'd ever get that promotion they had been dangling in front of me and if it was finally time to call it quits with my on again/ off again boyfriend of five years.

Who knew that four hours later after way too many drinks, which had loosened my normal carefully maintained reticence, that I would be at back at Diane's place, hiding in her bathroom and staring at myself in the mirror.

'What the hell am I doing?' I thought as I stood naked in nothing but my garter belt, stockings and heels.

It had all sounded like a good idea when Diane had leaned over and whispered her proposal in my ear at the bar. The way her lips had moved against my delicate skin had sent shivers down my spine, to say nothing about what her whispered suggestions had done.

I knew that Diane had always been the more adventurous of our group, and had listened for years with a touch of envy at the stories she'd regale us with during our girls' nights out. The idea of being able to explore some of those fantasies that I had over the years when everything else seemed to be going by haywire in my life had been too hard to refuse.

So why was I standing in the bathroom afraid to face one of my oldest friends? I finger combed my long dark hair to give myself something to do as I wrestled with myself. Diane was one of my oldest friends and I was scared to death what would happen if I really walked out of the bathroom dressed like I was and did the things my friend had suggested after hearing me mutter something I never should have said aloud in the first place.

My hands shook as I recalled what my friend had said. I would have you kneeling in front of me in nothing save your stockings and heels, and you'd do whatever I told you to do, wouldn't you?

The very idea of what Diane may want me to do made my insides tingle with a sweet buzz that I hadn't felt in ages with David. Our lovemaking, rare as it was these days, was so predictable that I could almost guess how long it would take before he was getting off regardless of whether or not I was ready to go too.

My nipples tightened painfully at the idea of my face burrowed between Diane's thighs, tongue seeking to please...

The sound of the bathroom door flying open startled me to the point where I jumped and almost screamed. As it was, I stood there open mouthed as I saw Diane silhouetted in the doorway.

Her eyes were dark and her lips set in a stern line as she stood in the doorway, her generous curves encased in a black corset and wearing black stockings and heels. What caught my attention however was the thin red crop she held in her white gloved hands, a crop that hadn't been mentioned in her beguiling whispers earlier.

"Hiding from me, Mel?" she asked with a hint of knowing laughter.

I tried to speak past the lump in my throat, but in the end I simply shook my head and watched as she sidled in, coming closer and closer until she had me trapped between the door and the sink.

"Then why have you been in here for so long?" she purred as she ran a gloved hand casually down my arm.

"I, um, wasn't sure..." I stammered, trailing off as her hand began traveling back up my arm, distracting my train of thought.

"Wasn't sure what, Mel? Wasn't sure if you should chicken out or wasn't sure what I'd want you to do?" Her words were so soft they were almost a whisper, and I had to lean forward to catch what she was saying.

"Both actually," I answered honestly, trying to keep my eyes from dropping to the deep cleavage in front of me, although it was so very hard not to do.

Her lips twitched a moment before she nodded. "I figured as much... Let's make things easy on you..." Again her hand trailed down and up my arm. "Play with left breast, Melanie. Touch yourself for me."

My eyes widened at the direction, but I didn't hesitate in following through as my palm came up to brush against my nipple a couple of times before my fingers clutched its fullness, kneading it.

Our eyes were locked as she smiled and raised her hand, smoothing my hair like I was a child. The gesture could have been condescending, but I found it oddly comforting.

"Very good, Mel... Now how'bout kneeling in front of me like a good little girl?"

I bit my lip and dropped my eyes, afraid to take this next step. While this was like a dream come true, I was hesitant, not wanting things to be awkward afterwards.

I heard Diane sigh deeply and before I could ask what was wrong, I felt her fingers grip my hair painfully, yanking my head backwards so that we were again looking into each other's eyes.

"Let's try this again, Melanie." There was a bite to her voice that had me shivering, before she continued, "Sink your ass down into a squat and get ready to show me how clever your tongue can be."

I want to say that it was the downward pressure of her hand that had me sinking to my heels, but honestly the only thing she did was to keep holding my hair firmly in her hand, a clear indication that she planned on controlling how close or how far my head would be moving. I sank down until my backside was inches off the floor and had to hold onto her thigh to keep myself steady when she pulled my head back.

"Take a deep breath, Melanie... Get used to my scent, little girl, it's going to be all over your face, lips and tongue soon."

The light musky smell that reached my senses when I took in the breath left me practically squirming in place and I could feel myself growing damp at the thought of getting to taste it. I didn't know what would come of this little play date of ours, but at the moment all I could think was how much I wanted her to be riding my face and licking and suckling until she begged me to stop...

 
The Taste

Originally developed by OregonWriter14 back in 2013, but we never got it off the ground. Would love to give this a go.

Patrick Lawrence had been watching the woman dance almost non-stop for three hours. It amazed him that a Mortal could still have that kind of energy at almost two in the morning. He knew she'd be a hellion in bed, assuming, of course, that she had anything left by the time he got her out the door.

And he would, of course, get her out the door. No mere mortal could withstand The Charm. It was a combination of mental control and pheromone discharge, and once it was turned on, the target female -- and sometimes even those in the proximity if he wasn't careful -- couldn't wait to rip off their panties and part their thighs.

Of course, nothing came for free, even to a centuries old vampire. The Charm guaranteed him an energetic fuck, which was always nice. He was a vampire, but he was still a man, too. But the meal he would take from his donor would be less sustaining with her pumped up to the heavens on The Charm.

A delicate balance had to be achieved between Patrick's vampire Charm and his less reliable human charm. He was a good looking man or so he'd often been told, even without turning on The Charm. And his dress and accessories spoke of money, which never hurt when out on the hunt for a woman who was often out of the reach of most men.

But good looks and money didn't always get a man laid, and good looks and money didn't always get a vampire fed.

Patrick stood from his balcony seat and began making his way down toward the woman's table knowing that he would be searching for that balance tonight with the hopes that the energetic beauty's life force would sustain him for the next upcoming weeks.

It was getting progressively more dangerous for a vampire to feed these days. When he'd first been turned, he could venture to a small isolated village and feed off the locals for a month before help from the outside arrived. These days, every one had a camera phone, cops moved quickly by car rather than horse, and other technologies -- from facial recognition software to eavesdropping devices to instant DNA and fingerprinting matching -- made it hard for a vampire to hide, let alone feed.

No, these days, caution was needed. And that meant toning down on The Charm to increase the value of less frequent feedings.

"May I have the next dance," Patrick asked as the woman -- taking an unusual break from the boogie -- looked up from her drink and friends to meet his eyes. He very conspicuously glanced down her long, athletic legs clear to her stilettos, then back up to say with a sly smile, "Unless you need some time for those heels of yours to cool down. Wouldn't want them to erupt in flames or anything."

The fast moving hip hop that had been exploding from dozens of speakers suddenly shifted to a slower beat, something that would allow two dancers to move a bit closer to one another. Anyone else in the club might have thought it had been simply coincidental that the tempo had changed thusly. Only Patrick and the DJ, who he had paid $100 to switch beats at this exact moment knew the truth.
 
Hold Up

My character is running late for work and forced to stop in an unfamiliar area for gas. When the card reader doesn't work, she goes inside and ends up walking into the middle of a hold up.

Your character could either be the poor cashier or one of the men holding up the place. Perhaps an undercover fed trying to break up a gun running ring and forced on into deep cover.
 
On a mission to Mars where the two of us can't stand each other. I'm a by the book, don't deviate from the course type that is finally getting her chance at a mission, and you're the hotshot whiz kid who likes to think outside the box, thumbing your nose at known processes, procedures and protocols.
 
The setting is a high-priced dinner party where the conversation piece is the lady in the stockade, blindfolded. Over dinner there is a blind auction (so to speak) with the winner getting to choose what happens next, but the centerpiece has to stay blindfolded.

Assume my character has knowingly agreed to this as a one time only outlet. Your character is one of the bidders who recognizes mine and outbids everyone else. Afterwards you run into me, but I have no clue you know about the party or its special auction.
 
The slight figure stumbled around the corner so quickly she nearly lost her balance and tumbled head over heels, but her free wheeling arms provided sufficient counterweight to keep her upright. A heartbeat later, her equilibrium restored, she was tearing down the sidewalk, her bare feet slapping at the pavement despite the loose gravel and broken glass that littered the way.

A bum sitting on a grate down the street watched as the young woman approached, blinking in confusion over her attire. Sure he had seen fitness enthusiasts go for runs at all hours of the night, but none of the ones lately would brave the chilly night air in such little coverage. It wasn't until she drew closer that his alcohol fogged brain realized she wasn't wearing a sports bra and running shorts like he thought, but rather a regular bra and panties.

The girl looked right at him, but her eyes were wide and unfocused as she tried to suck air into her oxygen starved lungs. She got close enough for him to see the mascara that ran down her cheeks in jagged stripes and the cloth that was wrapped loosely around her neck and one of her ankles. Close enough that he saw her face lose all color as the sound of masculine voices and heavy feet approached the corner she had stumbled around just moments earlier.

His bloodshot eyes turned in that direction and when he looked back, the young woman was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging it off to one too many bottles of Boone Farms, he closed his eyes and huddled deeper into his tattered jacket, forgetting all about the desperate looking girl before the trio of rough looking men were 30 yards from his grate.

********

Her lungs burned from both her frantic run for freedom and the bitter cold that made her normally graceful body sluggish to respond to her desperation. Or maybe it was whatever they had injected her with earlier, at least she thought they had given her something as she had a vague recollection of something pricking her arm after she had been roughly grabbed from behind.

Although she couldn't remember who they were – hell she wasn't even sure she knew where she was. She just knew she needed to get away from the basement of the building she had woken up in, wearing nothing but her bra and panties with a gag in her mouth and her ankles tied together. Her fingers had shook so badly when she heard the deep voices from the room next door that it had taken forever to get her legs freed, and she hadn't bothered to do more than pull the gag out before tiptoeing out the door.

Even now, the sound of that one voice echoing in her head terrified her, lending her the sudden burst of speed she needed to turn the next corner. There was something she needed to remember about him – something deadly important. But right now, all she cared about was getting as far away from that voice as possible.

'Gotta hide, gotta hide,' she thought, as she raced down yet another seemingly unfamiliar street.

And that's when she spotted the delivery truck idling at the end of the next alley. The back of the truck was rolled up, but no one seemed to be around. She didn't bother second-guessing herself, and instead used the last of her reserves to beeline for the open back end. She banged her right knee on the tailgate, bringing a fresh batch of tears to her eyes, but she managed to close her lips on the string of curse words that normally would have flowed.

She tucked between two rows of boxes, pulling her legs into her chest and ducking her head as low as she could. She was afraid the sound of her labored breathing would give away her hiding place and tried her best to muffle it in her arms. She had just gotten it under control when she heard the scrape of a foot, and waited anxiously to see what would happen.

Her fingernails bit into her arms and she held her breath when she felt someone step onto the back of the truck. Her heart was pounding so badly, she simply knew she was going to be discovered. So it was a bit anticlimactic when she heard the back door being rolled down and felt the person jumping off.

Thirty seconds later, the truck backed up and was pulling away, just as her pursuers rounded the corner.
 
^^ I haven't thought that far for that pic, although that shouldn't stop anyone else from using it if she so inspires them. :)
 
To Save The Kingdom...

All in all Isabella had a wonderful, carefree childhood, one filled with fun and adventure not normally reserved for princesses. Then again, her family didn't operate the way most royal families did, largely in part to the relative isolation caused by the natural barriers that the great Kyiz Mountains afforded them. The kingdom wasn't as large as Halish and Kadith on its left and right, and was surely not as wealthy as Fraolin to the south, but its vast mountains and forests were rich in resources that they were able to trade with their neighbors for the things the largely self-sufficient Kawen-ites were unable to produce themselves. As such, there was an almost reluctance on the part of King Nicol and Queen Alina to enforce on their children the same restrictions and constraints that had been foisted on them as youngsters, although the one thing they did demand was that their sons receive the appropriate training as future heirs to the kingdom.

As the youngest of the royal children and the only girl, Isabella has been largely freed from the boring lessons that her older brothers had to suffer through, although she was always hanging about whenever they were outside for their equestrian weapons training. Her eldest brother, Arnulfo, had taken pity on his sister and had directed his tutors to include her in their lessons, and while it did raise the occasional eyebrow, no one thought to question the future king, nor bother the current King with such a trivial matter. And that's how Isabella reached her 12th birthday fully capable of riding a horse without a saddle and being able to stand her ground against both brothers well fencing. Rumor had it that Isabella could even disarm both men, but the siblings only smiled whenever someone dared to broach the subject, and soon it was relegated to sheer nonsense status.

Isabella had enjoyed every minute of the freedoms that she received thanks to the attention Arnulfo and Bernard garnered as the heirs, often sneaking out of the castle grounds with her best friend Annette, the cook's daughter, to climb trees, ride horses or poke around various cave that dotted the mountainside. It was a glorious childhood until that fateful day. How Isabella often wished she and Annette had never gone exploring that day, had never spotted the shiny rock formation with in the cave wall, had never told Arnulfo about it.

Perhaps then kaizite, deemed more precious than gold thanks to its strength and malleability, would have gone undiscovered for many more years. Perhaps then Arnulfo would have not been killed by a cave in as he oversaw extraction operations four years later. Perhaps Bernard wouldn't have become so reckless in his ongoing grief that he failed to heed his stallion's agitation and get caught off guard by a wild boar two years after that. Perhaps then Isabella wouldn't have been suddenly thrust into the role of future leader. Perhaps then the little kingdom wouldn't have caught the attention of Alexander the Bear, the barbarian king of Nilfgard. Perhaps...

Unfortunately no amount of wishful thinking could turn back the hands of time, and Isabella has been forced to give up her independent ways and watch carefully as her father consulted with his council on how best to deal with the rumors that Alexander had turned his sights towards Kawen. They were also very careful around her, but she could see the worry in their eyes and caught the occasional murmur when they didn't realize she was around. Apparently, it wasn't the first time their small kingdom had attracted his interests, but before he would have had to war with both Kadith and Fraolin to get to them. Now that his army had grown in such strength and numbers, neither country wished to anger him, lest he retaliate against them.

Still, no one was prepared for the sudden arrival of Alexander and his army on their very doorstep. Not her parents who had been in the middle of arranging the mid-summer celebration that marked their anniversary of their nuptials. Not the army who had planned on starting drills to prepare for what they assumed would be at the earliest a late fall invasion. And certainly not Isabella who found herself entering the outskirts of the town outside the castle, a lone figure astride a small but powerful horse and clothed in the simple peasant attire she donned when she and Annette were planning on an outing.
 
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