"Helping Out" (closed)

[TiredFingers]

Sheriff's Deputy Connor Evans, out on patrol
Friday, March 21st

Connor started his day the same way he started every day, whether it was a workday or not: a hot shower to warm up his body, 10 minutes of stretching, 5 miles on his stationary bike, 5 more on the elliptical, 10 minutes of stretching, and finally another shower to rid himself of the layer of sweat that he'd first created and then allowed to mostly dry during his cool down.

As he stood under the hot water, he couldn't help but think of Viola Dean and how amazing she'd looked the day before. Connor didn't normally beat off before work yet still reached a hand down to his already stiffening cock; he squeezed it tightly as he imagined the delicious beauty standing here under the hot flow, facing away, her back arched forward to present her pussy to him. He shook off the desire to knock one out, remembering that he'd already fucked Viola in his fantasies last night after returning from The Black Hole.

Thinking about the bar and its owner, Connor couldn't help but wonder whether or not Vance had already knocked one out to images of a naked Viola. It was Thursday, he thought, remembering that Little John's plaything, Sammi Rogers had had the night off. I wonder if the candle was lit when LJ left the Hole last night.

And then there was Mark Zane, of course. The Modern's handyman wasn't the behemoth that the former NFL linebacker Vance was, of course. But the two men -- and sometimes with Connor as well -- worked out together a few times a week in the little gym in the back room of The Black Hole, and Vance's knowledge about the male body and how to make it God-like had resulted in Mark developing a fairly impressive body of his own.

If Viola had an interest in muscular men, she had a choice of them here in Toland, even if there wasn't much else to choose from in the poorly supplied town.

Connor checked in with Dispatch, which was located in Magnus, and told them he was in his cruiser and beginning his day. He still had an eviction notice and two subpoenas left over from yesterday, so he reported that that was where he would start. He was working 12 hours shifts, 4 days on, 3 days off, so he had plenty of time to make two attempts at each if he needed.

The morning was pretty uneventful, with one set of expired plates, two speeders -- he didn't stop anyone on the highway unless they were doing more than 68 -- and a suspected stolen vehicle, which actually turned out to be a teenage boy borrowing his stepdad's sportscar without permission.

During all of it, Connor couldn't get his mind off of Viola, and not just because she was the most beautiful woman he'd met in quite a long time. No, he was still remembering what Maxine had said about the suitcase of hundred dollar bills. The Deputy had seen the beauty get off the Greyhound and had seen that she was carrying only a purse and a large bag, each over a different shoulder -- no suitcase. So, what had Maxine been alluding to?

Finally, around 2pm, Connor couldn't take it anymore. He pulled out his phone, found the picture of Viola that he'd inconspicuously taken of her at The Black Hole, and texted it with her name, general description, and a short message to Pamela at the Sub-station in Magnus.

A moment later he got a response: She is out of your league, Con, and that is from experience cuz I have seen you naked.

He smiled at the memory of their three days, two nights of wild sex together. They'd known full well that as coworkers they couldn't begin anything long-term, but they'd been horny for one another for a long, long time, and they'd made the very adult decision to get it all out and over with over a long, holiday weekend.

He sent a follow-up message: She IS out of my league but then you were, too, and look what happened there. He considered what he wanted to say, then sent: It is not personal. She arrived in T out of nowhere. I am just curious about who she might be.

Pam sent another teasing response but also told him she would run it: Give me a couple of hours. We have some shit going on here. Pile up, six car.

He asked Pam if she needed him on it, but she told him it was the State's jurisdiction being at the interstate off ramp. He confirmed and went about his business.

***************************
​

Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Cambridge, Massachusetts
6:02pm, local time

Edward Winger was tapping away at his keyboard at 70 words per minute, sharing on a Dark Web bulletin board what he'd just learned about the sick and perverted sexual proclivities a nearby State's Governor, when another computer off to one side cried out with an alarm. At first, Ed simply stared at the screen, trying to decipher what he was seeing; as intelligent as he was (he had an IQ of 162) and as educated as he was (he had 3 bachelor's degrees, 2 master's, and a PhD, and he was only 28 years old), the information flowing over the screen was something that wasn't supposed to be possible.

He quickly abandoned his bulletin board and put his fingers to work on a second keyboard, tapping and scrolling as fast as possible. He worked on the problem for almost two hours, repeatedly cutting off attempts by various authorities to find information that over the last couple of years he'd been either hiding or altering. His work took him all over the internet, from social media to government data bases to deep inside the Clouds of three different search engine providers.

In the end, he relaxed back into his chair, sucked down his fourth or fifth or tenth energy drink, then fetched a still-packaged burner phone, inserted a SIM card, and sent a message to a phone number he'd memorized but never written down:

Your dad called, then your Mother called looking for you. I know you do not want to be disturbed. I told them you were unavailable. They bought it. You are fine. They sent me a piicc of you. You look toooo happy. Call me. We'll talk.

The message contained the code that he and Viola had created and worked on relentlessly so that, if there was a situation, they could secretly talk to one another without appearing as if they were being secretive. Your dad followed by your Mother meant that a local law enforcement agency (dad, all lower case) had initiated the check but had then asked for the FBI's services (Mother, upper case "M"). The misspelling of piicc had been intentional, meaning that someone had taken a cell phone pic of her and it had obviously been without her knowing. Toooo happy, with 4 vowels, meant she needed to be more cautious.

The Call me. We'll talk was literally just Ed's way of saying he wanted to talk to her, but he'd told her in the message that he'd prevented anyone from learning who she really was with the phrases, They bought it. You are fine. Before Viola Richardson had ever gone into hiding, Ed had scrubbed nearly every picture of her that had ever made it to the internet. His algorithm for locating images, be they on normal social media or even on the dark web, was far superior than anything her father's people could access and even rivaled the programs used by the NSA.

In addition, the program searched the internet 24/7 at amazing speeds for any new images that Viola's friends and family might post of her. Sometimes the algorithm deleted the images; sometimes they made it so that only the computer that had posted them could see them, thereby not alerting the poster to there being something hokey going on.

The last bit had been to create a new online identity and past for the woman now known as Viola Dean. The background search initiated by one Toland County Sheriff Deputy Connor Evans would yield social media pictures of Viola on vacation, at school, with family and friends, etc. And yet, within seconds of the FBI having found the images and sent them back to the Toland Country Sheriff's, they again disappeared from the internet, not to be seen again unless Ed willed them to be.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Thursday night, Days Inn, Magnus

(Randy Jackson)

“Now there’s the problem” he thought to himself as the real estate lady breezed past him, cell phone glued to her ear. Technology, modern culture. Life as people think it should be lived in the 21st Century. He noticed her, of course – looking at pretty girls was a life-long hobby of his, but he doubted if she noticed him. Not because he wasn’t worth noticing, but because she was too wrapped up in her little world to notice anything going on around her. Godzilla could be demolishing the building next door, and she wouldn’t know it – she had business to take care of on her mobile phone as she rushed to wherever it was she needed to be five minutes ago, even though it was after 10:00 pm. Hopefully her children aren’t waiting to be picked up from school. When she dropped the business cards, Randy was half-a-beat too slow to help – though he had every intention of helping her pick them up. By the time he sprang into action, the woman was already heading for the door. Unaware she had dropped the cards? Or simply not caring enough to pick them up? Four on the counter, three on the floor. As long as he was there – he might as well pick up the ones off the floor – and while he had very ambiguous feelings about doing business with someone like the woman who’d dropped the cards – at least she was (probably) a go-getter. Either that, or too disorganized to get her work done in a timely manner.

Of course there’s also the issue that she was checking out of a motel after 10:00 pm. Maybe something else was distracting her from her job???

“Vera Lee” he whispered to himself, reading from the card “Carlson Creek?” Of course it wasn’t uncommon for real estate agents to venture 30 miles from the office, but it was one more clue that suggested she wanted to meet with someone in a motel some distance from her home turf – where her car was less likely to be recognized.

--

Friday, March 21st - Morning
Magnus to Toland

Randy Jackson got a later start than he’d planned. It seems that since his retirement from the Navy a few days earlier, late starts were getting to be a habit. Maybe this was something he needed to work on? Developing the discipline to wake early and start getting things done even if nobody was expecting him to wake early and get anything done? At any rate, he could blame it on the travel and change of time zones – plus, it wasn’t like he’d never had a vacation in his life, or even a weekend off. Don’t sweat the petty things – that would be his new motto (if he decided to have a motto).

It was almost a last minute decision to put the boat in storage in Magnus rather than pulling it all the way to Toland. After all, there was a well-kept storage place with a fence a block from the motel, and he didn’t know what the situation was like at his final destination. That took time, of course, waiting for the office to open. He opted for a sausage biscuit and large coffee from the McDonalds which was an easy walk from the Days Inn.

There were familiar scenes which were being played out at virtually every McDonald’s in the country. A long line of cars at the drive through (well, longer than he would have bothered with), people who would rather let their vehicles idle for ten minutes than to park and walk fifty feet. Four old guys meeting for coffee – something they’d probably done every day for the last hundred years. A middle aged couple on vacation who’d not yet reached their destination. He had dirty fingers, suggesting he was checking the oil in the car before starting out on another long drive. Her fingers were probably clean, but he couldn’t tell for sure since they were constantly in motion swiping up and down and side to side on her cell phone the whole time. At least she wasn’t talking on the phone.

Like every other McDonalds in the country, the service was no faster for those who went inside – even though there was no line at the counter. The orders were filled in the order they came in. A clever method of sending the message to customers – “we don’t want you in our store” – while avoiding the adverse public relations that would come from a sign telling people to stay out and use the drive-through. At least he got his coffee to drink while he waited on “breakfast”.

A few minutes later the office opened at “123 Storage” and his modest little sailboat was unhitched from the truck and resting comfortably on top of a couple of paving stones under the tires and a tarp strapped down over the top. He might be back tomorrow, or he might not see the boat again for two or three months – but he was confident it was as secure there as anyplace he could have chosen that didn’t involve renting an entire garage.

Four hours later, with a newly-issued hunting/fishing license in the console, fresh oil in the crankcase and steak and eggs in his belly, Randy drove the remaining 15 miles of his journey, spotting the Toland City Limits sign at precisely 12:37 pm.

It was worse than he thought. Or maybe it was just like Ensign Greene described.

The old high school was set back some distance from the road, but he could tell it wasn't in good shape. Both goal posts were still standing on the old football field, but one was leaning at about a 30-degree angle.

He drove all the way through the town on Main Street – seeing an old-style gas station with two bays on one end which had not only been abandoned for several years, but also vandalized for parts and materials. Next to it was where a convenience store had been built but which was likewise abandoned. On the other end of town was another convenience store which was closed, but looked as if it had held out longer than the others. Between both ends were rows of buildings which had once housed successful businesses. The Feed Store. The Bank. The Hardware Store. Another smaller hardware store which also sold feed and farm supplies. There was also the thrift store, a boutique, a cell phone repair shop, and three antique stores – all closed. All with broken windows and some with falling-down canopies.

At least someone had survived. A building with two (modern) gas pumps closer to the center of town, where a larger road intersected Main Street. On the outside were a few signs plastered to the windows, announcing various items that could be had for what must have been a good price. At least there was a place in town he could get gas without having to drive fifteen miles - IF the place was still in business. Again, he couldn't tell for sure, since there were no cars at the gas pumps.

There was a hotel which had seen better days – it looked fairly large and had almost no cars in the parking lot. There was a bar – naturally. That would be the last thing to close in a town like this. And a café – which he couldn’t tell for sure whether or not it was still in business.

Pulling off Main street he drove through the residential area. It was almost the same – a few abandoned houses falling down, a few lots which had been cleared, and a few lots with the charred remains of houses which had burned down and nobody bothered to clean up the mess afterward. And just like many other depressed neighborhoods he’d seen, there would be a house with peeling paint and weeds taking over the yard sitting next to a well-kept residence that might grace the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. Several of the falling-down homes had “for sale” signs in the yards, but most of those signs were showing the effects of the ravages of time.

Then there was the fairly well-kept house with a portable storage building not in back, but close to the road. A window had been installed, and on the window someone had painted the word "Do-nut's". Randy chuckled, wondering if the apostrophe was clever marketing or simply a 'typo' made by the sort of public school educated person who didn't know the difference between your and you're.

A little before 1:00 pm, he pulled into the parking lot of “The Modern” – at least that’s what the sign said.

Entering the hotel lobby, he was struck by the fact it looked even bigger on the inside. The Modern – which was anything but, must have been a happening place back in the day. Way back in the day, predating the prosperous 80’s by a few decades. He could even picture the occasional Hollywood star spending a night there. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard maybe? Or was his imagination going too far back? Surely there was at least one old timer in this town who still tells the story of the time Bonnie and Clyde robbed the local gas station – even if the story was told to him by his parents.

--

“Uh, yes ma’am, I’m needing a room for a couple of nights, at least. Maybe longer.”

 

[Alice2015]

Maxine Toland, speaking with Randy Jackson

1 pm, Friday, March 21st

Maxine was heading across the lobby of The Modern Hotel when she flinched in surprise at the sight out of the corner of her eye of someone standing in front of the revolving door. The work Mark had done earlier in the morning eliminating the squeal of the door had most definitely worked. She couldn't help but think, Damn! I think I liked it better when it screamed like a banshee and told me someone was coming.

“Uh, yes ma’am," the man said as she turned to face him. "I’m needing a room for a couple of nights, at least. Maybe longer.”

"You've come to the right place," she responded smiling and gesturing him toward her with old, knobby fingers. Turning back toward the desk, she murmured to herself, "You've come to the only place, actually."

It took her a while to get to and around the front counter. Remembering her mistake from the day before that had kept her from even learning Viola's name until dinner time, Maxine actually opened the Register, pointed to an ink pen -- that she hoped actually worked -- and said, "Your John Hancock, if you don't mind."

She gave the man the same monologue she'd given Viola about room options -- sunrise versus sunset, second floor view versus the third -- but this time actually gave the bad news she'd kept from the beautiful blonde until the last moment, "Elevator's out, so if you want the third floor, you're gonna get your ... cardio...? Yeah, that's what they call it."

She went to fetch the metal key for him, going on, "If you're looking for a meal, Roxanne's is open 'til about 5 or 6 or whenever Dick decides to swing the sign. Dick ... that's Richard. Richard Donner, the owner, not the guy who directed The Rifleman."

It was ironic that the younger folk in Toland knew Richard from his work on such things as Lethal Weapon and the X-men, while the old farts like Maxine knew him from The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and The Fugitive -- the one with David Janssen, not Harrison Ford.

"You drove into town obviously," she continued, having neither seen nor heard the Greyhound. As she looked to his name in the Register, she said, "so if you're needing gas, you'll want to get it soon. The station's out the door, right to Toland Avenue, and three blocks west, but it closes at 3 o'clock. The owner officiates middle school basketball games in Magnus Friday nights."

Maxine looked the man over for a long moment. He was a handsome man; she thought far better of him than that snotty, stuck-up real estate agent, Vera Lee, had when she'd gotten a quick glance at him last night in the lobby of the Day's Inn. Maxine smiled, thinking, Two beautiful people, two days in a row, checking in. Could this be a trend? Maybe next week, it'll be the cast of 'Dynasty'.

Then, remembering dinner last night and how enjoyable it had been, Maxine said, "Or, if you're interested, we're having dinner here tonight." She jerked a thumb toward the door that led to her not-so-private, private quarters, saying, "6 o'clock, sharp, if you're interested. Me, you, and a few friends. If you want, just let me know, so we know how much to order from Roxanne's."

 

[Alice2015]

Viola walking about Toland after leaving The Black Hole and Vance Littleton

Early afternoon, Friday, March 21st

Viola had left Vance with his newly gained $30,000 and strolled back out into downtown Toland. It was a slightly chilly day, but the rain that had begun last night after dark had ceased and the skies now were blue and beautiful. Kids were all about, walking and running, biking and skating; it took a while for Viola to recognize what she was seeing, but there seemed to be a strange abundance of donuts amongst the kids.

Her cell phone chimed a very special ring tone, causing her heart to skip a beat. She immediately looked around herself, scanning the Town Square area for anyone paying her any undue attention; she was now and had been getting a lot of second glances, from men and women, young and old, but Viola was used to such glances when she dressed as she was now.

Not seeing anything of concern but also realizing that her heart was pounding hard behind her beautiful, sexy bosom, she pulled out her cell and read the message: Your dad called, then your Mother called looking for you. I know you do not want to be disturbed. I told them you were unavailable. They bought it. You are fine. They sent me a piicc of you. You look toooo happy. Call me. We'll talk.

She quickly ran each and every word of the message through her mind, quickly interpreting them. Local law enforcement, she thought. And a pic? That's gotta be the Deputy. Viola wasn't surprised at all that Connor Evans had run a background check on her. Viola, too, had caught Maxine's comment about the suitcase full of hundreds.

She decrypted in her mind the part about the FBI and being more cautious, which had her about to run and hide or maybe steal a car and flee Toland County. But Ed's reassurance -- They bought it. You are fine -- that she was safe calmed Viola down. Viola Richardson was still dead, and Viola Dean was still safe. For now.

She put the phone away, took some deep, settling breaths, then continued toward the clothing store that Claudia had told her about earlier in the day. Viola had been told that it had closed some time ago, but she'd hoped to find a phone number in the window or maybe at least a business name that she could look up on her phone.

Wonderfully, though, Viola found a woman inside going through boxes. She tapped on the window, and when the woman looked, Viola smiled ... and pressed a handful of hundred-dollar bills. Through the glass, she explained, "I'm desperate! The bus line lost my luggage. I know you're closed, but..."

The woman inside headed Viola's way, unlocking and opening the door. The wannabe customer continued, "Maybe you could show me something...? I've been wearing these clothes for three days."

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

Viola and Marjorie Keen would do a lot more than just look at clothes, though. After two hours of conversation, laughter, tears even, and most of a bottle of wine that the shop's owner had dug up in the back along with two relatively clean glasses, Viola had made arrangements to bring another Toland business back from the dead.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Claudia Owens

The Rummage House, Toland

Friday, March 21, 2025
Just a bit past noon:

After leaving Viola in Town Square, Claudia had hurried back to her room in The Modern to change for the Gelli Art class at the Rummage House. As she stood before her closet and dresser, she chastised herself, No, don't do it. What're you thinking?

Despite this, Claudia found herself stripping out of her casual wardrobe and donning a tight-fitting pair of denim jeans, a sexier bra that pushed herbarely B-cups up and in, and a plunging button up blouse that gave serious hints at the black lace underneath. She checked herself in the mirror, thinking What the fuck are you doing? This is Charlie Reed.

Charlie was just a friend, of course. Actually, he wasn't even that. He was just a kid who Claudia had known all her life. A buddy. At least, that was what she was trying to convince herself as she checked her ass and bosom's profile in the mirror. What are you trying to look good for him for?

She donned a warm but fashionable coat and headed for the Rummage House. Claudia was going to stand in the back by the wall and look as inconspicuous as possible, maybe even sneaking out before anyone took note of her. But almost immediately, Charlie caught sight of her and motioned her to join him. She smiled weakly, hesitated, then took the seat he'd been saving.

"Hi," she whispered, not wanting to interrupt the speaker. She whispered, "Sorry, I'm late."

Claudia looked around herself. There was a big crowd today, maybe 20 in all. Most of them were kids, some with a parent and some not. The lady who owned The Rummage House, Mai Nguyen, featured a different artist or speaker almost every Friday. Toland's school children didn't have school this day, of course, but most of their parents still had work. This gave them something to do. And Mai provided a free cold breakfast, snacks, and a 1pm lunch for anyone who'd attended that day's class or presentation or fun project.

The Rummage House itself had always fascinated Claudia. It was a massive, 3 story house with full basement, surrounded by 2 acres of lawns, flower gardens, and fruit trees. It had been built by one of Toland's oldest families, the Rollins, back in the late 19th century. Back then, the property had been over 40 acres, but all of that land had been sold off, with most of it becoming single family dwellings.

When the last Rollins died off or moved away or whatever, the Town of Toland ended up with the house. They put it up for auction in the mid-1970s because of overdue property taxes, and a woman named Mai Nguyen bought it. (This was long before today's financial upheavals, of course.)

Mai had been what Claudia's grandmother had called one of the boat people, refugees who'd flocked to the United States after the end of the Vietnam War. Mai and her daughter, Cam, had come from Saigon, now called Ho Chi Minh City. Initially, they'd been treated very poorly. They'd been reminders of the war that had caused so much turmoil in the United States during that era. Plus, they spoke very little English and looked funny, looked foreign, not American, Claudia's grandmother recalled people saying so often when they saw the two.

And despite being refugees, they'd had money. Lots of money is what people had thought. How could they afford the Rollins house after all. It hadn't been true, though. Truth was, the other silent bidders on the Rollins House had miscalculated how high the others would bid, and they got beat. Truth was, they'd fucked up and been beat by a girl. (Mai had still been just 19-years-old at the time.)

Mai claimed that she'd wanted to come to Toland because her American GI husband of her then-3-year-old daughter (yes, the math is right) had in fact been a Toland resident. Daniel Wagner had in fact been drafted out of Toland for the War, but he hadn't come home. A booby trap, what people today called IEDs, had killed him as he tried to save children from an ongoing attack by the Viet Cong.

But Mai had had no proof: no letters, no pictures of the two of them together, no documentation. And her conservative parents had refused to believe that their little boy would have knocked up a 16-year-old slant eye and then married her!

Then, 15 years later in the early 1990s, Daniel's brother, Kenneth, needed a bone marrow transplant. DNA testing, which was still just becoming mainstream, showed that then-18-year-old Cam Nguyen was not just a match but Kenneth's niece as well. Overnight, Mai and Cam became a treasured part of the Toland community. Even more than that, Cam's future daughter, who went by Kim Nguyen-Wagner, would become a supermodel and actress with a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition poster that could be found in bedrooms and workplaces all over Toland County these days.

Claudia looked back to Charlie, finding him watching her with a smile. She thought maybe she'd caught him looking down her cleavage, but she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was hopeful thinking. No! No! I don't want Charlie Reed looking down my blouse. Do I...?

 

[Alice2015]

Viola Dean sitting down with Connor Evans at Roxanne's

Friday, March 21, 2025, about 6pm

Viola had left Marjorie Keen's defunct but soon-to-reopen clothing boutique, playfully named Keen to Be Seen, and returned to The Modern Hotel for a midday nap. She'd gotten to bed late, awoken this morning early, and spent the morning and afternoon tasking her mind with plans for Toland's future. Combined with hiding out for months, she was still exhausted, both mentally and physically.

After her nap, she took a hot bath, using the bubbles and oils Marjorie had given her free of charge. Well, had it been free, after Viola had promised the woman a big chunk of investment change, just as she had Vance. She really had nothing that she had to do today, but there was something that she most definitely wanted to do: talk to Sheriff Deputy Connor Evans.

She knew that he had dinner most nights at Roxanne's, but she couldn't know exactly when. She didn't want to appear as if she was stalking him, and she couldn't simply sit there all day and wait for him to show. Or could she? Viola volunteered to take care of the dinner at The Modern tonight, going over to talk to Richard Donner about the menu options, then about the cafe itself, about how things had been going, and more.

Viola could have launched into another "I have a deal for you to consider" discussion, but her mind was simply overwhelmed with all that she'd already accomplished. She'd only been in Toland 30 or so hours, and she'd already made two major deals, handed out $60,000, made friends with people from 18- to 92-years-old, found a home -- albeit a hotel room in a building that sometimes Viola thought might fall down around her -- and more.

All she wanted to do now was find out whether a simple country Sheriff Deputy had, in those same 30 hours, unraveled what had taken her and Edward Winger years to create.

 

[TiredFingers]

Charlie Reed

The Rummage House
The Town of Toland

Friday, March 21, 2025
11:30am (Just before Claudia's post above):

Charlie arrived at The Rummage House half an hour before the Gelli Art class to talk to the instructor. He wanted to impress Claudia when she arrived with his knowledge, but that wasn't going to happen. The lady would show up only minutes before noon.

So instead, Charlie just walked around until the class began. He found a good seat right up front, then saved a seat beside him for Claudia. Noon came, and the lady began talking and showing off the Gelli Art process and supplies. Charlie kept looking over his shoulder for Claudia, and after a while he began to fear that she'd blown him off and wasn't coming.

And then suddenly, there she was! Charlie sat up higher, waved, and pointed an extended finger to the chair beside him. She seemed to hesitate, but Charlie wasn't worried. Surely, Claudia had been eager to come spend this time with her best friend, right?

"Hi," she whispered as she sat next to him.

"Hi!" Charlie returned, a bit louder. He grimaced playfully to the instructor, mouthing Sorry!

Claudia mirrored Charlie, saying, "Sorry, I'm late."

Charlie didn't want to interrupt again, so he animatedly shook his head but didn't respond verbally. He'd expected the inability to talk during class, so he pulled out the iPad he'd brought, opened a program, and used his fingertip to scribble across the screen, It's fine.

Claudia turned her attention to the crowd surrounding them, and Charlie immediately turned his attention to Claudia's bosom. She was wearing a black, lacy bra, and he could see right down into her cleavage. He found himself rearranging his sitting position as his cock began swelling and lengthening.

He raised his eyes quickly when she looked back, thinking that he'd done so in time not to get caught ogling her. When they met gazes, he simply smiled and looked back to the instructor. After an introduction and some examples, the instructor and Mai led those attending to tables where everything was set up to practice the new art form.

"And if you want to purchase any of the Gelli Art products," Mai said after everyone had had a go round or two, "We have kits from $19.99 up."

Charlie reached into his pocket, pulling out the cash he'd earned from his bicycle delivery service. There wasn't must, just $34, but he wanted to treat Claudia and said, "That one there's kinda cool, Claudia. Will you, um ... will you let me buy it for you?

 

[CutiePie1997]

Claudia

The Rummage House
The Town of Toland

Friday, March 21, 2025
About 1:00pm:

(OOC -- for Charlie's picture below, I'm using the one TiredFingers provided. Picture Charlie in a Speedo, not underwear since I can't edit the picture up to hide. Or maybe this is fine, right. He looks good.)

Claudia was just about to stand up and walk out of the class on Gelli Art because it was so slow and boring. Plus, she was uncomfortable sitting next to Charlie. She thought she knew why. Out of the corner of her eye, she could occasionally see his head turn her way, as he was looking at her. Was he looking down her blouse, at her cleavage? Probably. Why shouldn't he? He was a boy, she was a girl, she had tits, he liked them. It was just how things were.

But deep down, Claudia was enjoying it. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true. She liked it. She liked being ogled. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, she liked being ogled by Charlie Reed, too. She peeked out the corner of his eye just as he peeked at her, and she couldn't help but smile before turning back to the instructor/saleswoman.

They got up to practice the new art form, and Claudia's boredom quickly faded. It was partially the hands-on stuff, partially the colors and creativity, but also partially being with Charlie. Being with Charlie? What the fuck's wrong with you? Claudia had never been into Charlie.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Once a couple of summers ago, they'd both been at a pool party, and Charlie had been wearing a Speedo swimming suit. Speedos weren't really a thing anymore, as far as Claudia knew. She'd never seen a guy in one unless it had been in an online video or porn or something from before she'd been born. And yet there was Charlie in a Speedo, and Claudia's mouth had literally fallen open at his bulge. She hadn't expected that, and even though she'd been shocked at the time and turned away to pretend she hadn't seen anything, Claudia peeked back a couple of times before hurrying away.

Now, she couldn't get that image of Charlie's cock and balls all bulging out of the front of his swimsuit, and it made her smirk happily. Charlie Reed ... really?

When Mai and the saleslady/artist/whatever she was started talking about buying stuff, Charlie pulled out money and said, "That one there's kinda cool, Claudia."

"Yeah, sure," she said, her mind on other things.

"Will you, um..." Charlie began.

Claudia looked to him, using the discussion as an excuse to check him out again. He was cute, there was no doubt about that. Cute enough to be a boyfriend? Eh, maybe. There were definitely hotter boys at school, and some of them had definitely expressed interest in her.

She wasn't unfamiliar to sexual activity. Not really. She'd had a number of what she thought of as kissing boys, clear back to when she'd been 13 years old. She doubted that Charlie knew about any of them. Maybe, maybe not. Boys talk, but can you always believe what they say?

And there'd been other more serious boyfriends. Craig Flanders had once ran his hands all up and down her body, groping her tits and pussy through her clothes. Claudia hadn't like it much at the time. He'd been rough and hadn't cared about what Claudia had wanted.

But there'd been Ken. Ken ... Ken ... what the hell was his last name...? Claudia had met him at camp and flirted with him incessantly until finally he'd taken a chance on her and they'd been alone together. Now, he'd been kind to her, gentle, repeatedly asking, Are you okay...? Do you like this...? Should I stop? Her whispered, moaned answers had been Yes ... oh God, yes ... and no, please don't.

Claudia had caused herself orgasms, but that had been the first time someone else had caused her one. He'd done it with his fingers slipped inside her panties. She'd never felt something like that before and still hadn't yet. She was still a virgin, though. He hadn't been willing to go farther than they had. It might have been because who she'd been and who'd he'd been. Or it might have been the age difference.

Paulson! she recalled suddenly. Ken Paulson ... yeah, Paulson. Claudia remembered why she couldn't remember the man's surname. It was because she'd never used it. After all, the camp attendees didn't use their counselor's last names. To her, he'd been Counselor Ken.

"Will you let me buy it for you?"

Claudia didn't immediately realize what Charlie has asked. When it finally sunk in, she blushed. She'd been reminiscing about a man six years older than her fingering her pussy, and a boy who would most definitely want to do that same thing to her, assuming he knew how to, was asking to buy her paints and jelly sheets. And she liked it.

She smiled wide, delighted, and after a long moment said, "Sure, Charlie. You can buy it for me."

She thought a bit longer, then said, "You can buy it for me ... if you'll invite me to your birthday party so that I can bring you a present for you."

Her lips spread wide with a smile before she laughed loudly. The story here was that Charlie had just recently had his 18th birthday, and even though Claudia had been invited, she'd made up an excuse to get out of it. Now, she felt guilty for it. No, worse than that. She felt like a bitch.

"You can buy it for me," Claudia repeated, "if you'll let me take you for ice cream. Richard over at Roxanne's brings in a big tub of ice cream for Fridays 'cause he'd trying to get all the parents in town to eat lunch there 'cause their kids aren't in school. I heard he was bringing in Rocky Road today."

If Charlie said yes, they'd finish up here and head for the cafe. Claudia couldn't believe they might do this, go out into Toland together, just the two of them, with no other friends. Oh my God, is this a date?

 

[CutiePie1997]

Friday, March 21, 2025
Begins at 5am, ends at 10pm:

Happy Hearts Assisted Living Center, Toland

Sammi arrived just in time to allow Gma GiGi's nighttime caregiver, Maura, time to get home to her children and get them off to school. Before the woman left, Sammi handed her a hundred that she'd taken from Vance Littleton's pocket after they'd spent the night fucking in and sucking on each other. The woman thanked her and left, without much more exchanged between them.

Their relationship was pretty simple. Maura arrived at 9pm, when Happy Hearts last caregiver ended shift. (There were medical staff and security still there through the night.) Maura tended to Gma GiGi as needed, which didn't usually mean much more than maybe administering insulin or changing a diaper. The two women got along, and GiGi usually remembered who Maura was, so that was good.

Sammi preferred to be here in the mornings, rather than leave her great-gramma in the hands of Happy Hearts staff. They'd never been the kindest or gentlest of people. So, like last night, Sammi left her late- or over-night clients if she was with them and came here instead. She would sleep on the couch until GiGi woke up, share breakfast with her, tend to her other needs, read or watch TV, and then head out.

Back home, it was right to bed for a midday nap. Sammi wanted to be rested for work, of course. Sucking cock didn't take a lot of energy, but sometimes fucking seriously did. She was in great physical shape, with great energy and endurance. She hated sweating during sex, except with those clients who liked to see her skin glistening.

Her alarm went off at 6pm, she was showered and dressed by 7pm, and by 8pm she was sitting at the bar in the lounge of the Markham Hotel in Carlson Creek. The bartender there had texted her earlier in the week with a lead on a new John. The man showed up only after six different men tried to buy Sammi a drink or engage her in conversation. The Markham didn't usually feature that many horny men, even on a Friday night.

The John finally arrived, made some light conversation, then slipped her enough hundreds folded inconspicuously to indicate that he wanted a full ride. They spent four hours together before the man was tapped out and laid back to sleep the rest of the night away. He asked Sammi to stay the night, but she told him she couldn't.

"We could meet again, though," she told him. He told her he was just passing through before closing his eyes, effectively ending their time together. "Phil, at the bar ... he knows how to get a hold of me next time you're in town."

She headed for Toland again, but barely got out of town before she ran into a sobriety check point. She was only the third car, so it wasn't much of a delay. When the cop with the big flashlight came up to her window, Sammi laughed, saying, "Evenin', Deputy Evans. How are things?"

Connor knew what Sammi did for a living, of course. Oh, it wasn't as if she'd ever been arrested for prostitution, but it didn't take a genius to figure Sammi out if they just paid attention, and paying attention was what Sheriff Deputies did if they were doing more than just delivering eviction notices and ticketing drunks.

She licked her lips rather suggestively, leaned her head out toward Connor, and opened her mouth, asking, "Wanna check my alcohol level? I had a glass of wine at dinner. You can put the breathalyzer in my mouth ... or..."

Sammi laughed. Connor had never partaken of her services, which couldn't be said for most of the Deputies in the Toland County Sheriff's Department. One of them, in fact, was a regular. He wasn't fucking her for free, though, in exchange for not hassling her. In fact, it was the other way around. Sammi got a higher rate from him for keeping a secret of his, so it was a win-win as far as she was concerned. Sammi liked win-wins.

 

[TiredFingers]

Charlie and Claudia

The Rummage House
The Town of Toland

Friday, March 21, 2025
About 1:30pm:

Charlie's face filled with a mix of surprise and confusion when Claudia asked about going to his birthday party. He'd already had his birthday, his 18th, just last month. He had invited Claudia, only to be told she couldn't come. He'd been horribly disappointed, of course. But he'd lived through it.

But then she made it clear that she was just teasing him. "You can buy it for me, if you'll let me take you for ice cream."

"Ice cream?" he responded with surprise. There was no ice cream shop in Toland. There had been one, but it had closed a while back.

She continued, telling him that the owner of Roxanne's brought in a new flavor each week. He knew that, too. Everyone knew that. Toland was a small town, and there weren't that many things for kids to do, eating ice cream being one of the favorites.

"Yes, you can buy me ice cream," Charlie responded, as if he was giving her permission.

Inside, his heart was pounding with excitement. He took the Gelli Art package to the register at the front door. Actually, you couldn't really call it a register. It was a locked box into and out of which Mai took cash when purchases and change were made. In their case, because Mai had to document the sale for whatever split was taking place between her and the instructor, a paper receipt was written. But usually, sales simply included a change of cash between hands.

They headed off for Roxanne's, walking side by side with a reasonably expected amount of space between them. Charlie glanced down at Claudia's hand, wishing he could hold it. But she wasn't his girlfriend, and they weren't dating. So that wasn't going to happen.

 

[TiredFingers]

Friday night/Saturday morning, March 21/22, 2025
Begins at 11pm, ends at 2am:

Outside Carlson Creek's city limits

Connor hated Sobriety Check Point duty almost as much as he hated delivering eviction notices and financial subpoenas. They were dangerous, first off, with 1 or 2 drivers seeing the check points and trying to avoid them by turning around or away. It often led to unnecessary, high-speed chases or potentially fatal crashes. And both second and more often than chases, someone was always puking on his shoes, either because they were so drunk or were simply nervous.

He was 3 hours into his shift when he recognized Sammi's car slowing down for the stop. Connor gestured his partner to the car at the front of the line, then strolled back to the prostitute's ride. She rolled the window down, leading him to smile and say, "Evening, Miss Rogers."

"Evenin', Deputy Evans," she responded. "How are things?"

"No tickets, no arrests tonight," Connor answered. "I like that." He looked downward into her car, checking her wardrobe. The amazing dress and time of the night told him that she'd likely been working, and he knew that she often worked bars. It only made sense to ask, "Have you been drinking tonight, Miss Rogers?"

Her response was suggestive, but in the action of her licking her lips and the words she spoke, "Wanna check my alcohol level? I had a glass of wine at dinner. You can put the breathalyzer in my mouth ... or..."

Connor joined in on Sammi's laugh. He'd always found her attractive and sexy, and from the day he'd first met her, he'd wished she wasn't a prostitute. But life was hard sometimes. He often wished he had the loose morals of his coworkers, some of whom partook of Sammi's mouth and pussy for whatever reasons. But, again, life was hard.

He stepped back a bit, whistled to his partner, and gestured the all clear to Sammi's car. Looking back to her, Connor said, "I don't think the breathalyzer will be necessary, Miss Rogers." With his smiled widening and his eyes taking in the view of her bosom again, he told her honestly, "And although I'm sure that putting something else in your mouth would make me a very happy man, I don't think this is the time or place."

One day, maybe, he thought to himself as he watched Sammi drive out around the cars stopped in front of her. He tried to picture her in her bikini as he'd seen her once out at Red Bluff reservoir, then promised that tonight's masturbation would include her and that thong bottom.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

The Modern Hotel

Friday, March 21 - Afternoon and Evening

At some point in the next couple of days, Randy Jackson would need to start paying more attention to his money - as in not spending it so freely. However, he needed a place to stay, and the Modern was the only hotel in town, and he was sure it was cheaper than any other hotel or motel he'd ever stayed in - in this country anyway. As for the chance to eat dinner with the group of townsfolk who gathered at the hotel, that was simply too good to pass up. Was there a menu lying around for him to place his order with Maxine, or did he just contribute to a pot of money and someone would come back with several large pizzas or a big bowl of chicken and dumplings? It didn't matter - it was his chance to meet a half dozen or more people in one shot - something that otherwise might take hours or days.

He asked the woman about windows - wanting to ensure he had a room in which the windows opened, and which had a screen to keep out the bugs. Nothing too unusual in that request. Following the priority placed on windows, he said a room on the third floor would be fine. "I can use the exercise" he smiled. "In fact, far from the stairs would be nice, too. I like to read and night and so I like things nice and quiet if I can get it."

He doubted the elderly woman would be too concerned about his requests - suspecting him of being a spy or something for wanting such out of the way accommodations. Easily defensible, means of egress, etc. While those advantages weren't undesirable, that wasn't the real reason for his requests. The real reason might have insulted her had he shared it.

Still, he hoped she wasn't too much of a gossip. He didn't want anyone else thinking he was any more mysterious than he really was. Just a guy looking for a quiet setting to live and work.

After checking out the room, Randy returned to his truck to gather a few things. Two changes of clothes, toilet kit, the bag containing his laptop computer and peripherals (he much preferred using a real keyboard and a real mouse), the Glock with extra magazine, a sleeping bag and pillow that could be stuffed into a reasonably sized bag, and lastly the chemical warfare agents which were the real reason he wanted functioning windows.

As for everything else in his pickup truck - anything of value was locked securely in one of two lockers in back, under the camper shell. The lockers were fireproof and bolted to the frame of the vehicle. "Valuables" in this case meant firearms, paperwork, and cash. Other things might hold sentimental value or be hard to replace, but he couldn't easily turn the vehicle into Fort Knox. For now he would have to trust the locks that came with the vehicle and the alarm he had installed.

Before going out for a walk before dinner, Randy removed the linens from his bed and draped hung them over the shower curtain rod. He then sealed up any openings (vents, under the door, etc) as best he could with tape and plastic, or a damp towel) then set off two bug bombs - one for cockroaches and the other specific for bedbugs.

Yep, that was the reason for wanting a room as far away from everything else as possible. And windows he could open later to air out the room.

It wasn't that he was a germaphobe - he could never have lasted 20 years in the Navy as a germaphobe - but he was a cautious man who didn't like the idea of sleeping in areas infested with pests - especially disease-carrying pests.

At dinner, he would try to listen more than he talked. Opportunities were everywhere. Opportunities for story ideas. Opportunities to make friends. maybe even opportunities for part-time employment - though that was his lowest priority. Besides, it wasn't as if Toland had a booming economy.

His primary story was he just retired from the Navy and wanted to take some "time off" of an undetermined length. If pressed harder, he would admit to wanting to do "some writing" - though he wouldn't go any further than "kicking around an idea for a novel - historical fiction, with a love story thrown in" - and not admit to the other novel or ideas for screenplays. That might sound like a bit much - especially to someone who didn't understand the business.

As for his naval career - it was "mostly boring. I did some sailor stuff the first few years, then paperwork the rest of the time." Except for a few brief moments of sheer terror, that pretty much covered it.

 

[TiredFingers]

Vance "Little John" Littleton

The Black Hole Tavern
The Town of Toland

Friday, March 21, 2025
About 4 pm:

Vance opened the doors of The Black Hole at 4 o'clock, just as he had Tuesdays through Saturdays for the last four years. He hadn't always opened this late, nor had he only opened 5 days a week. When he first bought the tavern, he opened at 9 am Mondays through Saturdays, and on the weekdays, Vance sometimes had as many as six other people helping him. They were mostly moms earning a little pocket change while their kids were at school.

On those weekdays, some of the work went toward preparing the tavern for the day ahead. But the vast majority of it went into making Sack Lunches. These were hot and cold lunches (yes, in sacks, though, not your typical little brown bags) that were delivered to the Industrial District via a converted roach coach.

The businesses there had long staggered their employees' start times, lunch hours, and end times to both limit traffic congestion into and out of the District and lessen the lunch rush on Toland eateries. This worked out great for Vance, enabling the truck to make ten-minute long stops at as many as a dozen locations over the two hours of staggered lunches.

What really made it all work, though, was Vance's innovative idea regarding how workers paid for their Sack Lunches. Taking cash and making change at the truck was time consuming, and plastic was a definite no-go as it was super time consuming, and he paid as much as 8% per transaction.

So, Vance had come up with what most of the workers playfully called Food Stamps. They were pre-paid coupon-like books for cold, hot, or cold and hot lunches, as well as for drinks. A worker had only to hand over the coupon at the truck, snatch up the appropriate Sack Lunch and a drink, then find a place to go eat. Quick and simple.

But the real beauty, the profitable beauty, was how customers got the Food Stamps booklets. Sure, you could buy one at the truck, but again, that was time consuming. So, Vance offered a 10% discount on them at The Black Hole. And if you bought one on Friday, which was payday for nearly every business in town, you got a free beer or soft drink as well. And c'mon, who goes into a tavern on a Friday payday for a book of lunch coupons and just one single beer, right?

But wait, there's more, a television announcer hawking Ginzu knives of clappers would say. To make sure that those workers had cash, since many of them might not get to a bank until Monday, Vance cashed local payroll checks for free if you also purchased either a month's Food Stamps book or put $50 on a tab at The Black Hole. The regular customers loved that, because a lot of them could easily spend $50 on beer, chicken wings, and jo-jos on just a Friday night.

It was like printing money.

That is, until the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse: the Robert Richardson Fuckfest, the real estate collapse-driven Great Recession of 2008, and finally COVID-19. One by one, the District's businesses closed, as did many if not most of the businesses that relied on the workers' paychecks.

Vance discontinued the roach coach and Food Stamps, discharged the part-time moms, cut his hours of operation, closed his kitchen, and reduced his offerings of alcohol to further limit his costs. He joked with people sometimes that Toland's underaged drinkers sometimes had a better assortment of alcoholic beverages hid from their parents than he had to offer at The Black Hole to those same adults.

But not anymore. An angel had come down from heaven to save his ass, an angel named Viola Dean. After she'd left their second meeting about the future, Vance had immediately started spending those stacks of hundred-dollar bills she'd left him. He was already planning a Grand Reopening for Friday, April 11th, just three weeks away. (He'd wanted to hold it sooner, but between restocking supplies, replacing equipment, and properly spreading the word through word-of-mouth and advertising, Vance thought he'd need the extra time.)

Much like Viola had stood in the middle of The Modern Hotel, spun around, and imagined how it must of looked in its hay day, a phrase he'd heard her say on more than one occasion, Vance had now done the same in the middle of The Black Hole. And he was as giddy as a teenage boy seeing his first pair of bared tits.

(Just a note: To help speed up the story, Vance doesn't necessarily need to post again for several days. He's preparing for the Grand Reopening, but unless another character needs to interact with him, he doesn't need to post. Viola (Alice2015) can feel free to post that she checks on his progress, and if it's necessary, I'll post.)

 

[Alice2015]

The Modern Hotel

Friday night, March 21

(OOC: Claudia and Charlie aren't done with their afternoon yet, but I'm going to go ahead and post for the dinner and include them as guests.

Viola spent the early afternoon in her room thinking about her next projects. She had $230 million to disburse to the people of Toland, and so far, she'd only given out $60,000. She had a long way to go. She'd checked the cash still left in her bag earlier, finding she was still carrying $220,000. Most people would have thought Jesus Christ! A quarter of a million dollars? You're carrying that around in what's little more than a carpet bag? But again, Viola reminded herself, $229,940,000 to go. Get moving.

On her way down to dinner, Viola though about her next project: The Modern Hotel. People were going to be coming to Toland soon enough, and they were going to need a nice place to stay. Right now, The Modern was the only place to stay.

Downstairs, Viola discovered tonight's list of dinner attendees: Maxine, obviously, and her sidekick, Claudia. Charlie was there. Surprise or not? Handyman Mark was also a given. Maxine had been very happy to have Marjorie Keen there as well.

"And who do we have here?" Viola asked when she caught sight of an unfamiliar face. She offered out her hand to Randy Jackson, who she learned was a guest, not a Toland resident.

There hostess sat them boy-girl-boy-girl again, with an extra boy seat between her and Marjorie, in her words, "In case some hungry man shows up. Or another woman. I'd feed another woman, too."

Randy became the immediate subject of Viola's inquiries. She asked where he was from and what had brought him to Toland. He talked about the Navy and retirement and wanting time off but without saying how long, even after Viola asked for that specific. She said, "That, I think, must be the good thing about retirement: not being in a hurry."

Randy spoke about his writing, and when he mentioned historical fiction, Marjorie jumped in, saying, "I wouldn't mind a good piece of historical fiction myself. Are you thinking about something along the lines of James Michener...? Or perhaps John Jakes?"

"What was it like being in the Navy that long?" Marjorie continued her inquiries of Randy.

"Mostly boring," Randy said, explaining, "I did some sailor stuff the first few years, then paperwork the rest of the time."

He didn't speak out loud about what he considered his brief moments of sheer terror, but if he had, he would have found an interested audience in Marjorie. The owner of Keen to be Seen didn't realize that she was hanging on the new guest's every word; Viola noticed it, though, and thought We have GOT to get these two together without all the rest of us at some point.

They finished up dinner, with Viola saying she was skipping The Black Hole tonight and getting some rest. She asked Marjorie and Charlie if they were good for getting home. Charlie had his plan, as a young man would, of course. For her part, Marjorie said, "It's three blocks to my place, so, not far."

But Viola caught the glance she gave Randy and suggested, "Maybe one of our brave males would escort you home...?"

(OOC: Just so ya'll know, I'm not trying to rush a relationship here with Marjorie. Just having fun with the character. I'll leave you two male writers to decide whether or not your character will step up. Since I'm going to be right now, I won't see your response for about 7 hours.)

 

[CutiePie1997]

Claudia, at Roxanne's with Charlie

Friday, March 21, 2025
About 2 pm (which is before the dinner in Viola's post above):

Claudia sat across from Charlie in a back booth of Roxanne's that was against the wall. She was dying here of conflict with regards to the teen who she'd known since they were barely into elementary. She'd never publicly acknowledged him as anything other than just another one of the guys she'd known.

But then there'd been that time when she saw him in a Speedo. Later than night, Claudia had fingered herself to an orgasm with images of him licking her clit. She'd never told any of her girlfriends about that. About Charlie Reed? No way. Claudia had hotter guys than Charlie wanting to get all upside her stuff, figuratively and literally.

And yet, here she was, sitting across from him, smiling and laughing at his silly stories of things that happened to him at work. Or what he called work. He had bicycles of various types with trailers and racks. And he delivered messages, legal papers, food orders, anything and everything all around Toland for anyone who needed it done.

The kids at school had made fun of him for it. A bicycle messenger, in Toland? Really? That was something you saw in movies about New York City, with guys like Joseph Gordon-Levitt or that old guy, what was his name? Kevin Bacon. But there was a beauty to it, too. The boys at school with cars had to have jobs just to cover payments, gas, insurance, maintenance, and more. They had to have a car just to afford having a car. That was just stupid.

But Charlie? What transportation expenses did he have? Replacement tubes when he had a flat? A new reflector if he crashed and broke one? It was perfect. Claudia didn't know how much money he made. She was afraid to ask. If it wasn't much, it might embarrass Charlie. Or leave her less impressed. And she didn't want either of those to happen. Particularly the last one. Right now, Claudia was impressed with Charlie, and whether she liked it or not, she liked it.

She checked the clock on the wall, exclaiming, "Jesus! It's almost 5 o'clock." She hopped up, saying, "Charlie, I have to get home to The Modern to help get ready for dinner. Maxine's probably having a fit! I've been gone all day."

They headed for the exit, and as they did, Claudia caught sight of some girls she knew from school on the other side of the street. She reached out to grab Charlie's arm, stopping him. Her first instinct was that she didn't want to be seen on a date with him, even if it was just ice cream at Roxanne's. But then a voice in the back of her mind screamed Grow up you little bitch! Why should you care what they think? They're cunts!

She looked into Charlie's eyes for a moment, then, before she even realized that she was doing it, Claudia pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his. It wasn't an erotic kiss or even passionate. It was simple but meaningful. And if it continued without Charlie ending it quickly, she would part her lips, extend her tongue just enough for him to discover it, and pull their bodies tight together.

 

[TiredFingers]

Charlie (with Claudia at Roxanne's)

Friday, March 21, 2025

Charlie hadn't realized how much he'd been talking his work. And yes, he most definitely thought of it as work. Sure, he did it on a bike. And sure, most of the boys his age had cars. But he didn't need one. Charlie could get from Point A to Point B in Toland as fast as any of them could in their car. They had to get to their cars, follow the rules of the road, find parking, lock up, etc. He didn't. He zipped across parks, lanes, intersections, sometimes even yards and fields.

And he'd been doing this since the summer after 8th grade. When Claudia saw Charlie in his swimming trunks a couple of years ago, he'd still looked like a stick figure. His belly had been flat, and he'd had a six pack, but the rest of him had been pretty sad looking. But now, Charlie look incredible. He was what his flirty and sometimes inappropriate Aunt Annie had one called buff and boffable. (Charlie had never heard that second word, but he assumed it meant fuckable. If she hadn't been his aunt, who knows what might have happened?)

Claudia suddenly leapt up and told them they had to leave. Charlie dropped a fistful of one-dollar bills on the table as a tip since they'd occupied it for over 4 hours. 4 hours! I've been on a date with Claudia Owens for 4 hours! Charlie had never been on a date for 4 hours. Actually, he'd never been on a date. At least not with just one girl.

They were halfway to the exit when Claudia spun him around and stared into his eyes. He hadn't seen the girls across the street, so he hadn't had any idea that she was delaying going outside. But it didn't matter. She stared into his eyes, pulled him to her, and then kissed him! Kissed him! Claudia Owens is kissing me! It was unthinkable. At least it was in his mind. And if he'd been able to read hers, Charlie would have realized that she'd been thinking the same until this very moment.

Charlie wasn't just a virgin. He'd never even kissed a girl. Ever! He'd imagined it a billion times, and he'd seen it on television and in porn. He thought he'd be ready when at last he got to do it. In the end, though, Charlie found himself absolutely following Claudia's lead.

Her lips were warm and wet, and when he didn't pull away, they parted a bit, and he felt her tongue touch him. It sent a chill up his back that made him physically and noticeably tremble, and goosebumps exploded over his arms and even down his legs. Charlie couldn't help it: he giggled. He pulled his head back to look into Claudia's eyes, blushed a fiery red clear down into his neck, then apologized, "I'm sorry. That just ... I mean ... wow. You're a great kisser."

He wanted to kiss her again, but then two things happened. First, he suddenly realized that he had a raging hard-on. He casually pulled his lower body back, fearful that she feel him. Then, off to the side, Richard Donnor interrupted by plopping down the containers of dinner meant for The Modern Hotel. He asked them to take the order to Maxine, telling her that the new lady, Viola, had ordered and paid.

Charlie saw how many containers there were, looked back to Claudia, and said, "I could help you."

And that was how they ended up sitting side by side again at The Modern Hotel for dinner.

 

[TiredFingers]

Charlie at dinner at The Modern Hotel

Friday, March 21, 2025:

Charlie was absolutely tickled to once again be sitting here for dinner. Tonight's guest list included people Charlie knew well, knew a bit, and didn't know at all. But the only one he cared about was Claudia. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't get enough of looking at Viola. Did those nipples ever turn off? Jesus!

The knew a bit guest was Marjorie Keen. Charlie had made deliveries to and from Keen to be Seen when it was still open. Charlie had always thought Marjorie was pretty. Not like Viola, of course. And not like Claudia. But still.

The didn't know at all guest was Randy Jackson, of course. Randy Jackson, the teen thought, smiling. The replacement Jackson. Charlie was too young to have personally known about how The Jackson Five had lost one of the brothers, Jermaine, and replaced him with a sixth brother named Randy. But his grandmother and even his mother had loved The Jackson Five and The Jacksons after that. Ironically, neither his mother nor his grandmother had been a fan of Michael Jackson himself. Weird, Charlie had always thought, since Michael had been the most famous of the brothers.

Personally, Charlie was a fan of the Jackson sister, Latoya. When he was 13, his grandfather had given Charlie a copy of Latoya's nude layout from Playboy. Grampa Joe had said, "You know, just in case the internet goes out and you need something to beat the meat to.

Randy talked about being in the Navy, which interested Charlie. He would graduate this June, and he had to find something more to do than be a bicycle messenger. The military seemed the best option since he really didn't want to participate in another four years of education.

Charlie loved to read and write both, so again, Randy's conversation about being a writer was cool. He'd loved the Harry Turtledove alternate history books. He'd even written some of his own alt-hist short stories. Maybe he could show them to Randy and get his opinion.

When they'd finished dinner and dessert, Viola asked Charlie how he and Marjorie were for getting home. Charlie was sad that he couldn't walk Claudia home, because she was already there. Marjorie told them, "It's three blocks to my place, so, not far."

Viola looked between the men, suggesting, "Maybe one of our brave males would escort you home...?"

"I will," Charlie responded before either of the guys could. Then smiling and blushing, he added sheepishly, "Probably not the brave males you were talking about."

Mark had seen how Marjorie had been ogling their newest guest and quickly interjected, "Randy, would you mind? I forgot to secure some windows upstairs, and if I don't get it down before it rains again..."

 

[QwertyMaster]

On the Road to Toland
Saturday, March 22, 2025
Early Morning

Matt's fingers tapped on the steering wheel of the SUV, his eyes focused on the road while his mind was elsewhere. He'd been driving for hours and he knew that, as tired as he was, it wasn't a good idea to keep driving. He also knew that his final destination was just a few minutes away and he wasn't stopping until he got there. Each minute he drove caused the scenery to bring him more familiarity, more excitement, more nostalgia. He wondered who he might meet first when he got to Toland. Maybe he'd stop in at Roxanne's for a quick bite to eat and a long chat with Roxanne to settle both his stomach and his mind. Maybe he'd swing by Maxine's first take the opportunity to have a much needed catch-up, that is if she wasn't too busy running her hotel. Maybe he'd run into Miss Mills and they'd have a flirty conversation. He'd had a big crush on her when he was in her English class his senior year. When he was 18 the five year age gap made her seem like an impossible dream. But at his age? Five years was nothing. He hoped that she was still single and still teaching in town. Maybe he'd actually have a shot with her this time.

But then what? he thought, his jaw tightening. I'd have another pretty bitch in my life who's only with me for my money? I've already had one of those and one is more than enough. His thoughts turned to The Whore's smug face as she watched him sign the divorce papers. The face she made the last time he saw her, when she drove off in the corvette; his corvette. The face she made when he'd walked in on her banging his best friend. Rage bubbled up in every pore, every cell of his body as he thought of her and what she'd done to him.

No. She wouldn't control him anymore. He forced himself to clear his mind, to relax. Color returned to his fingers as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He was here on the road while The Whore was back in New York, or maybe Florida, or who knows where doing who knows what with who cares. And why should he care? He was done with her forever and he'd paid heavily to make sure of that. That was all the dark past and he needed to stay focused on his fast approaching bright, new life in Toland, his real home.

His excitement crescendo as the town proper came into view. Waves of nostalgia came flooding back, his sore mood from before disappearing into the ether. From a distance the town looked just like he remembered it. He could even just barely see his old/new home sitting atop the hill on the far side of town. When he drove by the high school he got his first taste of what was to come and his heart sank. Well, he thought, there goes that date with Miss Mills. The further into town he drove, the worse his mood got. With each passing shuttered up shop or broken down home his thoughts grew ever darker. He drove through the town for almost an hour, taking in every burned down, broken down or boarded up property and painfully reminiscing about, or else trying to desperately recall, what they used to be. He was glad at every sign of life he did see but that did little to bring him comfort.

He eventually found himself in front of The Modern where he finally stopped his car and, head in his hands, stewed in his misery. In spite of his best efforts, he had heard a few things about the fate of the town. He knew things had gotten worse but he couldn't have imagined that the town could have collapsed so completely and so quickly. Toland Timber hadn't been the most profitable company, but it had been profitable. When he'd sold his shares to, whatever the company was, he knew that they were likely going to trim the fat and people were going to suffer for it. He just didn't realize how far they'd be willing to go; how much they'd hurt the town, his town. No. Not my town anymore, he thought. It wasn't mine the moment I abandoned it to its fate all those years ago. Honestly, it isn't even a town anymore, just the corpse of one. And I'm the one who killed it. I might not have pulled the trigger but I'm the one who handed over the gun.

Finally growing sick of wallowing in his self-loathing, he looked up at the front The Modern as he got out of the SUV. While the building had definitely seen better days, it looked reasonably well kept up, all things considered. Someone at least is still leaving here and keeping the place open, he thought as he opened the door and entered the lobby. Lets see if Max is awake, or even alive.

 

[Alice2015]

Viola Dean, meeting Matt West for the first time. (Link to the OOC Thread, should you want to look at it)

The Modern Hotel
Saturday, March 22nd, 2025 -- 6 am

(OOC: Picture Viola dressed as described, not as pictured ... though, hey, c'mon, who doesn't like those nipples, right?)

(OOC: Oh, and I hope our new writer doesn't mind, but I "god mode" his character just a bit in this post because I wasn't sure whether Matthrew arrived in the 1-2am range or the 5-6am range or some other time. Forgive me.)


Viola Dean had picked up some new clothes at Marjorie Keen's Keen to be Seen fashion shop yesterday after the two women had spent a couple of hours together. This morning, she donned a pair of tight-fitting denim jeans, an equally tight-fitting tank top, and a looser fitting button up blouse that hung from her shoulders unbuttoned. To this she matched the pair of nearly-knee high, three-inch heeled leather boots that were her favorite pair of footwear and, at the moment, only other pair of footwear other than a pair of comfortable deck shoes that she'd been packing around in the bottom of her big bag for the past 8 months.

The result was that when she descended from her room to The Modern's lobby, Viola Dean was looking as hot as she ever did, with her tight ass and long legs highlighted by the leather, denim, and heels; and her ever-pert nipples occasionally revealing themselves to any and all who looked her way when the blouse over top of the tank sometimes let them be seen.

In the lobby, she caught sight of Maxine Toland standing in the middle of the lobby, eyeballing a man sleeping in one of the two deep, comfortable armchairs sitting near a wall where once a much larger and impressive waiting area had been. Viola approached her, looked at the man, looked back to Maxine, and asked in whispers, "New guest?"

"I assume," the old lady said. "I found him like this."

Maxine directed Viola's attention to the front desk; as happened every night before she fell asleep in the armchair in her own private portion of the hotel, the after-hours check in sign had been put up. It read:

READ OR DIE:
If you are checking in while this sign is displayed,
take a seat in a chair at the windows.
Someone will be with you shortly...
or not.

Ring the bell, lose a hand.
Call out and wake us, lose your tongue.

Be a good boy or girl,
and you will get a room, donut, and coffee
in exchange for your kindness.
Thank You,
The Management​

Viola chuckled softly, having never seen the sign before. Looking at the man asleep in the chair, she told Management, "Well, it seemed to work."

"Much better than it usually does," Maxine told her. "Usually, they pound on the bell until I come out with my shotgun to tell them to knock it off." She and Viola met gazes, and to the younger woman's surprise, Maxine confirmed, "I keep it right behind the door to my quarters, deary, so keep your hands off that bell at night."

Viola chuckled softly, then leaned in to give Maxine a kiss on the head, something Maxine had initiated after having known Viola for just a day. She told the woman, "I'm going over to The Sunrise for breakfast, but I could bring back donuts and coffee first--"

"No, no, that's Claudia's job," Maxine cut in. "You go have breakfast. Get the French Toast Stack ... top of the menu. You'll thank me."

Viola took one last look at the man, studying him. He was handsome, seemingly fit, maybe early 30s; she'd learn someday soon that he was in fact 32. He was casually but comfortably dressed, as if he'd been expecting to be driving a long distance.

She took a moment to study his face more closely, thinking she saw something familiar in him. What Viola couldn't know was that years earlier, when she'd been a student at NYU in the Big Apple, she'd actually met this man -- one Matthew West -- at a party at Gracie Mansion; it had been a fund-raiser for one charity or another, not that she could remember the day, the year, the party, the cause, or anything else about it at this point. That had simply been her life with Daddy, going to parties, giving away money, taking more back, rinse, then repeat.

Viola headed out, leaving Maxine standing over the man, waiting for him to wake up. Actually, standing over him might have been a stretch. At just under 5 feet in height and with the man sitting upright in the armchair, Maxine's face was barely a handful of inches higher than his was at the moment.

Eventually, she reached a toe out and gently nudged the man's foot, waking him. Maxine smiled, jerked her head toward the front desk, and said, "C'mon fella, you look like you had a rough night. Let's get you into a room where you can lay down on a real bed."

(OOC: I am going to send a PM to each writer after I mention their character(s) in a post to tell them what they can feel free to do with my characters in "god mode", to get the stories rolling. Read these PMs before you write your reply.)

 

[Alice2015]

Viola and Claudia, on the steps of The Modern

Saturday, March 22nd, 2025 -- 6:05 am

(OOC: This post includes the new description of the town as altered to fit the new map, described in full here.)

Viola stepped outside of The Modern and found Claudia standing halfway down the set of 4 steps that led to sidewalk level; Claudia was on her way for donuts or on her way back and had stopped to take note of something that had caught her interest. Viola took another look around the Town of Toland as it was laid out before her:

https://i.imgur.com/4DJE9Z6.png​

The Modern Hotel (red "M" in yellow) sat on Main Street, facing to the west, looking directly out upon the Founders Park. The view was spectacular; the park, while not very well cared for these days, was full of massive oaks, maples, and elms that in some cases predated the arrival of "white" settlers to the region.

Directly beyond Founder's Park and the circle drive after that was City Hall. The central part of the magnificent, 3-story tall structure had been built in 1910, with the North Wing added in 1926 and the South Wing in 1947, and yet looking at them now with the rising morning sun behind her, Viola couldn't tell which portion had been built when as the new constructions had been identical to the previous ones.

To her left, a block and a half away on the southwest corner of Main Street and Toland Avenue, was The Black Hole. Viola found the location ideal for multiple reasons:

• It sat at the heart of the town, with quick, easy access to all roads in and out of Toland.
• It had parking directly out front on the street.
• There was a city-owned parking lot to the west.
• Founders Park directly across the road would be perfect for the BeerFest that Viola was already envisioning; she had only to interest Vance Littleton in it.

Immediately to Viola's left was the northwest corner of 150 North, the apartment building in which Sammi Rogers lived and sometimes serviced her Regulars. Viola didn't know much about the prostitute; Marjorie Keen had mentioned the woman with unexpected respect and reverence during their talk yesterday.

"I'm heading for breakfast at The Sunrise," Viola told Claudia. "Wanna come?"

 

[Alice2015]

Places where you can (or at least could) eat in Toland:
More of Viola Dean
Saturday morning

Claudia had things to do, so Viola went onto breakfast on her own. This time of the day, there were only two places where you could get hot food, the first being The Sunrise Cafe and the second being The Convenience Store, which was literally the business's name.

It was owned by a Laotian family, the Nguyens. They'd immigrated to the US just a year ago and bought the little store six months after that; the location had closed at the beginning of the COVID shutdown in early 2020 and never reopened. The Nguyens were relatives of Mai, the owner of The Rummage House, who had moved to Toland over half a century ago.

What Viola found interesting was how the store's name had come about. When the Nguyens opened it, there had been no signage out front; it had all either been removed or vandalized. One of the family members was quite an artist, so -- after hearing most of their patrons calling it just the convenience store -- that was what he put on the sign that he drew and painted by hand.

Viola headed for the Sunrise Cafe. It had the same incredible location that The Black Hole had. It was located across the road from Founders Park's northwest corner, kitty-corner to City Hall.

The only other hot food establishment still operating was Roxanne's, but it didn't open until 11 o'clock, just in time for lunch. Roxanne's again had a wonderful location, west and just beyond the parking lot that separated it from The Black Hole.

There had once been a pancake house, too, literally called The Pancake House. It was located kitty-corner to The Convenience Store down on Hwy 90, but it had closed quite a while back.

 

[Alice2015]

The rest of Viola's day

(OOC: I am not going to be available the rest of the day, so I'm going to make one post that I think is significant, then quit until later tonight. Ya'll have fun without me. )

Viola took a corner booth for some privacy, only to discover that there was little of it in Toland. A frazzled-looking woman sitting in the distant family booth had six children with her, ages ranging from less than a year to several of them. They weren't all her own, Viola would learn while chatting with the couple who ran the Sunrise; two of them belonged to the widowed mother, but the rest of them were children she babysat on Saturday mornings for a sister and a neighbor, both of whom worked in Carlson Creek now that their jobs here in Toland had disappeared.

The woman, Sherie Green, was concentrating so much on the youngest of the children that she barely had time to watch the older ones. Those children began making quick visits to Viola's table that became more frequent and longer lasting. She and they talked and laughed together, with Viola asking them their names and ages and favorite foods and whatever else she thought would please them to share; and them asking her who she was, from where she'd come, why she was here, and whatever kids asked adults that they'd only just met.

Sherie apologized long distance for the disturbances, but Viola only laughed and waved off the concerns. "They're fine, girl, really. I'm enjoying myself."

In between chats with the kids, Viola continued quizzing the cafe's owners about the woman. She learned that Sherie, like so many women in Toland, was struggling. Viola pulled out an extra hundred-dollar bill, slipped it to the proprietor, and said, "Her breakfast on me. And ... how about some dessert for them. Cookies maybe? Lots of cookies."

After she learned of what the stranger had done for her, Sherie came to Viola's booth to sit, talk, and -- of course -- show her gratitude. Their conversation turned to what Sherie was doing later today: a Support Group for women facing all sorts of issues.

"I'd like to attend, if that's permitted," Viola told the woman. "I mean, I have issues. What woman doesn't, right?"

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

Later that afternoon:

During her conversation with Sherie, Viola learned that most if not all of the churches in Toland hosted some sort of support group: for men, for women, for alcoholics, for addicts of other things, divorcees, convicts doing their best not to suffer recidivism, and more.

Viola walked into the Baptist Church just before 5 o'clock, finding a dozen women already there. They included women of all ages, races, family makeups, and -- she would learn over the months to come and she got closer to some of them -- income levels. Most of them, though, had one thing in common: a lack of money. Everyone could use more money, Viola would hear in these and future conversations.

She made plans to meet with four of them for coffee or drinks in the days to come, and over the weeks to come, she would get together with nearly all of them. But today, after the meeting broke up, Viola went straight to Roxanne's with a woman name Clara Wilson, with whom she was in a rush to speak. Clara had spoken of owing money in the meeting, and at the cafe she expanded by telling Viola just to whom she was in debt.

"A loan shark?" Viola asked in whispers. "Here, in Toland?"

Clara explained that she'd been desperate, had borrowed a couple of hundred bucks, paid it off but borrowed more, rinse and repeat. "I owe her almost--"

"Her?" Viola cut in, again surprised. "You own money to a loan shark ... who's a woman."

"I own $8,000," Clara clarified. "Plus the vig."

"How much?"

"$500 a month," Clara answered, "the 15th of every month until I can get it all paid off. Which I can't. My hours were cut, and--"

"I want to meet this loan shark," Viola cut in. As Clara was saying that she didn't think that was a good idea, Viola was pull money out of her purse. She inconspicuously flashed a wad of hundreds, then slipped them back into her purse, saying, "Don't worry about me, Clara. I'm a big girl." She leaned in closer, whispering, "I'll pay off your debt. Then you will owe me."

"How does that help me?" Clara asked.

"Because I won't charge you the interest ... the vig," Viola told her.

"I can't ask you to--"

"You're not asking," Viola interrupted. "I'm offering. Don't worry, you'll make it up to me, but not in cash."

"How?" Clara asked, suspicious.

Viola only smiled and chuckled. "We'll figure that out later, but I assure you, it'll be better than whatever Serena might ask of you."

They talked some more, then -- hesitantly -- Clara pulled out her pay-by-the-minute cell phone, found a contact number, and pressed send. A moment later, she said, "Yeah, I have it." They made plans to meet, and after she closed the cheap flip phone, Clara's eyes teared up, she began sobbing, and she told Viola, "I can't believe you're doing this for me. Why would you do this?"

Viola moved closer to the woman, pulled her to her, and told her with sincerity, "Trust me. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing."

(OOC: Okay, I'm done until tonight. I hope ya'll can get along without me.)

 

[QwertyMaster]

Matt and Maxine in The Modern's lobby

Saturday, March 22nd, 2025 -- 6:05 am

(Edit: Alice gave me permission to "god mode" Maxine for this scene)

As Matt's tired eyes flicked open, his groggy mind took a minute processing the sight of the elderly woman standing in front of him. "Max?" he said as recognition finally fired in his brain, "Is that you? God, you've gotten old." It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his mouth. "Uh, I mean, you don't look a day over 80. I mean 60. I mean you look like the pinnacle of youth."

Maxine chuckled at his flustered backpedaling. "Thank you for the compliment but I'm comfortable with my age. I know that time took my girlish looks years ago," she responded before giving him a inquisitive look, "What I'm most concerned about at the moment is that it may be taking my mind as well. You seem to know me but I don't remember meeting you at all."

It was Matt's turn to laugh as he stood up from the chair. He was now towering over the old woman, he was half tempted to reach out and place his hand on her head or shoulder. "I guess you're not the only one who's gotten old," his hand went to the scruff on his face. When last she'd seen him, the beard he could grow was barely more than peach fuzz, "A lot has changed since we last saw each other. I'm not surprised you don't recognize the stick of a boy who stood next to you on the day we buried my father."

She took another look up and down before the light of recognition lit up her eyes, "Matt!" she exclaimed as she pull him in for a deep hug, "Now I know my mind is going. Why else would I be unable recognize my own grandnephew? It's so good to see you again. I'd always hoped to live long enough to see you come back."

Matt pulled her small body close to him, enjoying her warmth and feeling of her slender arms wrapped around him. He stood in silence for what felt like forever. Tears welling up at the first feeling of love he'd felt in months. Perhaps the first genuine love shown him in years. It felt so good to hug her and, for a moment, just forget.

"It's," he said, finally breaking the silence. He had to swallow down a lump in his throat before he continued, "It's good to see you too. I, I would have come back sooner but..." he left the rest of it hang in the air unsaid. How he could have never come back and faced demons he'd left behind. It was only because of the bigger demons he'd left back east that he'd found enough desperation to come back at all.

"Listen, Maxine," he said, pulling her back out to arms length, "I don't want anyone to know that I'm back in town, not yet at least. For right now I'm just a rich asshole that's looking to buy the West family manor in order to live a quiet life." He looked her straight in the eyes to help her know he was serious, "I just need some time alone to deal with things and figure out my what I'm doing next. Can you help me out with that?"

"I get why you might feel that way," she said, nodding in agreement, "As long as you promise me that sometime soon we'll sit down and have a nice long talk about everything you've been up to all these years." When nodded his assent she continued, "If your not going to be you then your going to need another name for people to call you. You can't just go around being nobody."

Matt thought for a moment before answering her, "Adam. Adam Smith. Bland, boring, Adam Smith. I don't plan on making too much of a splash but if anyone does ask, that's what we'll go with." Having gotten all of the stress of the moment out of him, Matt suddenly felt like he was going to collapse. "Now, about that bed you were offering earlier. I was going to head straight over to the house after this, but now I'm thinking I might need a nap first before I deal with all that drama."

She led him to a empty room where he dropped on to the bed and in moments was gone, aware of nothing but his nightmares.

 

[Alice2015]

Maxine Toland and Matt West in The Modern's lobby

Saturday, March 22nd, 2025 -- 6:10 am

(OOC: Great "god mode"; true to Maxine's personality and relationship to Matt.)

Maxine was happily surprised to see the boy she'd called Mattie as a child and later -- when that name wasn't grown up enough for him -- Matthew. It had been over a decade -- 2013, if she remembered correctly -- since she'd seen him last. He'd come home from the east coast for the funeral of his father who, at the time, had been Toland Corporation Inc.'s CEO and had also owned the largest block of TCI voting stock.

Just days after the funeral, the second strike of what would come to be called The Three Strikes began: the first had been the 2008 real estate collapse; the last would be the COVID shutdown in 2020; but in between it would be the Robert Richardson Fund takeover in 2013 that, by 2018, had led to the full and total destruction of TCI and, some would say, the City of Toland itself.

Some residents had believed -- and probably still did -- that Matthew West had been personally responsible for the rape of the City. The story back in the day had been that he'd sold his inherited stocks -- or at the least the voting rights -- to Robert Richardson, and that that had been all that RRF had needed to take full control and do what they wanted.

Maxine hadn't given the stories much credence at the time. Over the years to come, she'd learned more about what had happened and about what Matthew had done. Yes, it turned out, he'd played a pivotal role in Toland's downfall. But still, Maxine refused to place blame on him personally; she equated it to one of those basketball games where the players missed a dozen shots and then -- when they lost by just one point -- blamed the defeat on a referee who'd made one bad call.

"I don't want anyone to know that I'm back in town, not yet at least," Matthew told her. "For right now I'm just a rich asshole that's looking to buy the West family manor in order to live a quiet life."

"You still own your papa's house," Maxine reminded him, smiling and winking. If there was anything worth knowing in Toland, Maxine Toland knew it; she paid attention to events, listened to people, and remembered everything. "To be honest, I'd always expected you to come home ... always hoped you would. This is your home, Matthew. You may not believe it, but you belong here."

He told her he needed time, as well as a place to stay. Maxine gestured Matthew to follow, saying, "You always have a place here. I'll set you up with the best room in the house."

They settled on a temporary name for him, and she sent him off to get some rest, saying, "We have dinner here every night at six ... sharp! You don't need to bring anything, though, a bottle of wine wouldn't be turned down."

Maxine watched him as he headed off toward the stairs. She smiled to herself, delighted to have him back. She knew that there would be hell to pay when people learned who he was, but she'd do what she could to protect him. Matthew hadn't destroyed this town; a combination of the Richardson takeover and poor decisions made by the TCI Board over the decades prior to it had been the source of the disaster. It was unfair to blame one young man who did nothing more harmful than sell what had belonged to him during a time that had been devastatingly tragic.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Claudia, on the steps of The Modern

Saturday, March 22nd, 2025 -- 6:05 am

(Map and description.)

Claudia hadn't been looking at anything in particular when Viola found her standing in place on the steps of the Modern. She'd simply been staring into place, thinking. Reminiscing, actually. You kissed Charlie Reed. You kissed ... Charlie Reed. Charlie. Charlie Reed.

She hadn't been able to get her mind off what had happened between the two of them in Roxanne's yesterday before dinner with Maxine and the others. She'd known Charlie pretty much all of her life, and with the one exception of when she'd seen him in a Speedo and then went home to touch herself, Claudia had never had sexual or even intimate thoughts about him.

And yet last night, for the second time in her life, she'd slipped into a wondrous, deep slumber after using her well-lubed fingers to drive herself to orgasm with the young man's image in her head. Charlie ... Reed, she repeated for the umpteen-thousandth time.

When dinner ended last night, Claudia had been quick to finish with the dishes and sneak away to her room here on the Modern's main floor. (When she'd moved into the hotel at 16, Claudia had been offered one of the more spacious two room suites on the third floor, but the teen had rejected the idea. By then, the elevator had been abandoned, and Claudia couldn't have imagined climbing two flights of stairs every time she went up or down. Plus, Maxine's age had begun getting to her -- it was obvious even in just the past two years -- and Claudia had wanted closer proximity to her boss/landlord/best friend.

When Viola told her that she was going for breakfast, Claudia held up the boxes -- one with a dozen donuts, one with two dozen cookies -- and said, "Sorry, have to get these inside."

Viola asked Claudia if everything was alright, to which Claudia stared off at Founder's Park another moment, licked her lonely lips, and said, "I kissed a boy who I thought I would never, ever in a million years kiss..." She drew a deep breath, released it slowly, looked to Viola with a wide smile, and said with a bold, unashamed tone, "I think I'm going to give him my virginity."

Claudia had seen the surprise in the other woman's face, but -- as she suddenly felt embarrassed and blushed -- she laughed, turned, and hurried back into the hotel.