really really long sentence challenge

[WRJames]

The year that my wife and I were dating (yes, we did date and get married as if we were respectable people – that was quite a change for me after what had gone on my life the previous year) she was living in a dorm and on a meal plan, and I already had an apartment, so we had this deal that I would come eat up some of her meal plan twice a week (it was too much food for her) and I would cook dinner for her on Saturday, and the reason we did it twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday, was that we had a late afternoon class together (in Riemann Surfaces – don’t ask what a Riemann Surface is or there will be another few thousand words of digression, including mathematical formulae) but the professor was Swiss, German Swiss, and he knew that after about five fifteen if he ever came to a full stop everyone was going to get up and leave, so we would be sitting there getting more and more hungry (and maybe a little horny too, there was usually a little “dessert” after dinner) and he would be droning on, and on, it was as if he had never heard of a period.

 

[christabelll]

ummm Stella?

Have you read the latest forrays into the world on the run on sentence that you have inspired so insipidly that a few have taken up the gauntlet which you have thrown down and have written so endlessly as to threaten Ullysses treatise on the subject of no grammatical stops and gaps, I would think that a few have surpassed even their own expectations in the matter, and are waiting with baited breath to hear of your deteminations thusly, of rules and surmises made, in the everthreatening flood of words streamed together so vociferously that personalities seem split in the maddening rush to tie them into one cohesive whole that tells the story, fathomless, yet bringing the rush of tears and anger, the sting of lust and passions piqued and of laughter so hard it makes the stomach hurt, and the eyes sting in trying to read it at sunset which reveals the first star that we will take a left at straight on until morning?

heheheheh


muah!

 

[WRJames]

hey luv i was so surprised to see your message pop up i did not even realize this phone could do text messaging so i have no idea how to get caps or punctuation so just bear with me as you probably have heard i am stuck in chicago we are having bad weather for a change why they would put a hub in a place that is either having blizzards or thunderstorms is beyond me but here i am i hope your parents will understand that it is hard enough meeting the future in laws for the first time but arriving at least three hours late is not going to help damn i hope they did not get too elaborate with dinner i suppose there was no way we were going to be in bed together tonight in any case since i know they probably are not that liberal but i really miss you damn i have a hard on just thinking about it i am going to have to behave myself i guess if and when i finally arrive there wait they are actually calling our plane maybe we are getting out of here after all more likely they will just roll us out of the gate and make us sit on the runway for another hour how the hell do i send oh there it is

 

[damppanties]

Have you read the latest forrays into the world on the run on sentence that you have inspired so insipidly that a few have taken up the gauntlet which you have thrown down and have written so endlessly as to threaten Ullysses treatise on the subject of no grammatical stops and gaps, I would think that a few have surpassed even their own expectations in the matter, and are waiting with baited breath to hear of your deteminations thusly, of rules and surmises made, in the everthreatening flood of words streamed together so vociferously that personalities seem split in the maddening rush to tie them into one cohesive whole that tells the story, fathomless, yet bringing the rush of tears and anger, the sting of lust and passions piqued and of laughter so hard it makes the stomach hurt, and the eyes sting in trying to read it at sunset which reveals the first star that we will take a left at straight on until morning?

heheheheh


muah!

In other words...

Stella! Have you read the latest?!

 

[Stella_Omega]

In other words...

Stella! Have you read the latest?!

I fear I must apologise; I've actually had work for the past three days of the sort I was trained for-- physical labor, setting plaster-- not any ordinary plaster, oh no, but an arcane lime paint formulated from five-hundred-year-old recipes kept safe for all these centuries in strange and secret monasteries somewhere near the Upper Volga (and let me tell you, that limewash, once the resort of the terribly impoverished, now costs nearly four hundred U.S. dollars and seems to be the current touchstone of the highest of the rollers) anyway, as I was saying, I and one other woman are currently applying this lime-plaster with precision, art, passion and a four-inch blade to the interior walls of a recently-purchased condo in Beverly Hills belonging to a really handsome, slender and effete lawyer who wants his home to look exactly like that of his best friend (a lady with big big connexions in the interior decorating industry so it behooves us to impress the both of them) but after months of sitting in front of a computer all day I am so damn out of shape-- the act of pressing the knife into the texture of the previous coat of plaster (yet another arcane formulation the application of which alas I was not invited to join in on because I could have really used both the money and the experience) seems quite painful to my unexercised arms and the backs of my thighs ache from the simple act of climbing up and down ladders for eight hours straight for two days straight and the very first thing I did this morning was take three acetaminophen, and my hands feel wobbly even still -- This job will continue all of next week so I will probably be online for a half hour in the mornings and perhaps two in the evenings before I fall into the sleep of righteous physical exhaustion, and then, perhaps after that-- just about the time I've readjusted to the demands of the work-- I will be jobless once more; and that is why, my dear friends I have been so unaccountably, inconsiderately, inattentive-- but don’t let that stop anyone for I am not nobody’s benchmark- only I do want to say; watch the excessive commas, okay?

(400)

 

[glynndah]

I would try to write a long sentence for this challenge, but I'm afraid there is probably somewhere out there, because, so far, in this life, I have found that there are limits for everything - ten items or less in the express line; weight restrictions for the elevator (how do they know that, by the way, a secret scale built into the floor, just like at the truck stops... I'd use a question mark there, but I'm afraid that would violate the spirit of the whole thing, and, anyway, you all (oh, I said that and I'm really not from the part of the country that says that; I meant everyone and I probably should change that, but I'm in a roll now, so you'll just have to accept that I didn't mean it as a "southernism"), a restriction on the quantity of various punctuation marks one is allowed to use in one's writing career, so if you go over your limit of the more common ones such as periods and commas, you're relegated to using those ones that you're really not sure how they work; for example, unless you're Spanish or writing those rare words that utilize one, how many times do you actually have need for that squiggly line, I think it's called a tilde - anyway, it looks like this ---> ~ -; apostrophes seem to be immune to this restriction, in my observation, they're thrown in willy-nilly with no rhyme or reason as far as I can tell, and speaking of that, I'd really like to know some grammar rhymes, they'd be easier to remember than all those rules I'm violating at this moment, perhaps one about those ellipses that everyone's so fond of, those three little dots that seem to indicate that one would like to say something else, but instead choses to just trail off into empty space; all those funky bracket-y things that you'd like to use, but take either a lot of prior planning or a lot of careful backspacing and counting of the phrases and, unless you're a math or science major, you're rather hazy on which one goes inside which one{the fanciest ones [I'm sure they have an official name; I just don't know what it is (Honors English in high school didn't cover that sort of thing)] go on the outside, I think, but I'm really not sure}and I'm always worried about leaving out one of the closing brackets and confusing the poor reader even more than the brackets were designed to help clarify things for them, and the placement of a simple comma becomes a major ordeal, so the writer is much better off avoiding all those things unless numbers and those funky Greek letters and symbols are involved and since I'm rather intrigued by numbers, but have no idea what to do with them, perhaps I should just use the one punctuation mark sadly lacking in this entire thread, a period, but perhaps there is something more I need to say, something more you need to hear, but I doubt it.

 

[WRJames]

Well, I think the run-on sentence contest is probably very bad for all of us, after all brevity is the soul of wit (at least, that’s what Polonious claims in Hamlet, but he himself is the consummate windbag), well, at least, I’ve always believed that, the more so when I write fiction, so most of the time I try to use short sentences and small words except for one or two of my characters who talk like books, but sometimes, as we all know, we pay a price for brevity, and isn’t it too bad that not only do we get only our fifteen minutes of fame, but probably not more than fifteen seconds of attention span, which leads us to government by sound bites like “freedom is not free” and “the party of cut and run” and all the other little jibes that Karl Rove is so good at, he and his ilk, and I don’t mean to just pick on him because he’s so good at it, but really some of his have had serious consequences because people never get beyond that little phrase into the deeper issues, although I’m sure that if you have made it this far you are not one of those people and I applaud your patience and intelligence, or maybe it’s just lack of judgment that you have let me carry you so far without a stopping point to think things over.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

I will be back to post another...I've just been busy...

 

[glynndah]

I will be back to post another...I've just been busy...

Hoarding commas and gathering up all those stray semicolons?

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Hoarding commas and gathering up all those stray semicolons?

Yes, and hunting around for spare ands and ors.

 

[glynndah]

Yes, and hunting around for spare ands and ors.

I am rather proud of my utilization of { } and [ ].

 

[christabelll]

and I am a comma whore LOLOLOL

 

[christabelll]

A litany of happiness's

The more I think about it the more I realize that we are all to often caught up in the heavy thoughts of what we don’t like or things we are unhappy with; for a change I would levy this list against the insidiously creeping depression of disparagement and try to loft my sights higher into the realms of light and beautiful things that inspire one to keep going, to keep smiling, to struggle with the darkness of the world, a world I might add that needs the light more than ever if we are to prevail against chaos and destruction, so, as I begin, you will begin to see it really is the little things and yes some big things that make our worlds and lives worth living, if for nothing else the sheer delight that is offered to us on a daily basis, sort of like a gratitude thing, sort of like a positive thought thing, but mostly a thing of enjoyment: first and foremost or I should say - the first thing that pops into my mind that I am happy about or enjoy for that matter, is the taste of real cream on my tongue – forget the nonfat, low-fat hyperbolic nonsense the marketers are fobbing off as better for you – but real cold cream that leaves an oily residue on the tongue and the stomach feeling satisfied, that can be sweet and delicate or heavy and dense, beaten into butter (salted if you please) or whipped into clouds of such delight that the imagination scrambles to elucidate all of its uses from topping a perfect cup of cocoa to being lapped delicately from a lovers heated skin, its something that can’t be replaced with canola oil when frying up eggs or buttering your toast, then of course along that same line is toast, what a magnificent creation of crusty softness, have I ever told you that I love to bake bread from scratch, how the scent of yeast fermenting and bread baking is one of hominess and family, one of comfort and anticipation, for there is nothing better than bread fresh from the oven dripping with said butter to melt and dissolve in the mouth, oh such a thing is of the heart here, and speaking of the heart, I like chicken hearts dipped in seasoned flour and fried, in butter to a deep golden brown, gods but that’s good even if I haven’t actually eaten a chicken heart in at least ten years, and ten years ago, my fondest thing was homemade honey wine, mead as it were, I even went so far as to brew my own, that’s a tricky business you know, brewing wine with honey, water and wine yeast, seems simple enough, but it’s the rest that can make you a bit crazy, oh well, the results were dry and golden and gave me third place in a kingdom wide competition, kingdom you ask, yes kingdom, for another thing that makes me happy even if it can be quite the chore to do it is historical reenactment, particularly SCA reenactments and Renaissance Fairs, where I can make and wear clothing that I am happy we are no longer required to don, but there I can escape back into my first love of medieval and renaissance history and try (even with modern amenities) to imagine what parts of my heart and soul remember, from sword fighting to all the pomp and circumstance of a coronation or a knighting ceremony in full regalia, regalia that has been lovingly, painstakingly recreated for such an event, I know, I know - but I never said I was sane, and life would be boring if I filled a text books definition of sane and normal, and for some reason, I don’t know why, when I am out of doors, camping or some such, I am up at the pre-light of dawn watching the sky fade from inky navy blue to palest black hills gold then gradually turning to a robins egg hue, how lovely, how calming, how utterly peaceful that time of day is, the stillness and quietude that allows the first songs of a distant bird to pierce your consciousness so purely it makes you ache inside - then hearing, as if that first birds song were a first violinist in an orchestra pit, the rest of our feathered friends tuning up and then launching into a symphony that no orchestra could hope to mimic for there is something poignant and refreshing about the sound of birds singing that early, those tuneful, plaintive songs are still one of my most favorite things, among others of course, I guess it depends on the day for which favorite is at the top of the list, another thing that I adore is the sound of my children’s laughter, from their very first chortles to their full out high pitched giggling that makes you wonder just what the hell is going through their heads when it isn’t looking very funny from the outside looking in, but you can’t help but smile and if you allow it, join in to such laughing hilarity that you end up in a ‘dog pile’ of arms and legs, tickling and pinching, squealing out loud for the sheer joy of feeling your child’s happiness radiate around you like an internal sun, and yes sunlight makes me happy too, too many days without sunlight makes me sad, but I am not going there, I am here, hearing my sons chortles and my daughters giggles replay like a song you can’t get out of your head, in my mind the innocence of their happiness a simple thing, a thing all too easily shattered, but again I do not want to go there, I want to go here; to a burbling creek with crystal clear water flowing over smooth rocks that shelters craw-dads and minnows, one that is crowded with watercress that is sharp and bitter and refreshing when coupled with cucumbers, salt and pepper, a touch of mayonnaise and thin slices of my fresh baked bread, talk about a sandwich that makes my tongue happy even if there are other sandwiches that equally make my taste buds stand up and take notice and there are more than one or two things that make me stand up and take notice, a for instance is the sound of a singular flute wafting on the breeze, near or far, it will call to me, it will break whatever reverie I am lost in, it will interrupt a conversation, it will cease a paint stroke or a kiss and pull me like the moon on the tides, it captures me and holds me fast as silvery notes achingly hollow spill into my ears and find their way into my heart and soul, I could not tell the why of it, only that truth of it, Mozart’s Magical Flute has me laughing and weeping, but the clarion call of a singular flute will hold me faster than super glue causing goosebumps to flourish on my skin, tears to well, and my breath to catch in my throat; another such thing is the smell of peonies, the only flower in the Chinese medicinal plant lexicon that is both yin and yang, male and female in its properties, something between a rose and a carnation running the gamut in coloration from pure snow white to a deep fuchsia purply-pink, but it’s the scent itself that draws me like no other, well I have to qualify that, there is one other – the stargazer lily, but the most particular one is the peony, its scent is sharp and bitter, sweet and cloying, its got tangents of clove and carnation, narcissus and tuberose hinting at newly green things and old decaying things in one sniff of its thick and delicate petals, such a gorgeous flower, even if it is a shrub although in actuality I don’t know exactly how it is classified, because it grows back year after year like a perennial but can be as big as a shrub, either way its my favorite of favorites and will draw me like no other flower in this world, and this world – my god – what an intensely cluttered, eclectic novel thing this world is, my world, your world, our world the most amazing thing there is, but that is neither here nor there as I wander the pathways in my mind to a just a few of my favorite things that make me happy or sooth my spirit or pique my curiosity: that said scent is a powerful reminder of happiness and sorrow and on the wings of that image comes the memories of blazingly hot days with one hundred percent humidity drinking cokes out of those little green bottles and the scent of exhaust from an idling Chevy at the local gas station, I don’t what it is, but that scent in combination with an ice cold coke makes me happy, absurdly happy, maybe its from childhood days on the farm or in the deep woods or maybe its just that now I can’t stand cokes and prefer pepsi, or maybe its just that the smell of diesel and carbon monoxide fling me back into the almost carefree days of my childhood where shining moments like this were few and far between, something to be seized and held onto with both hands because you never knew when the evil step father would come and ruin everything again, but again this is not about unhappy memories or things that don’t make you happy (even if they make those moments of goodness all the sweeter), its about joy and delight, and one thing that oddly enough delights me is clean, white, unmarked paper, you heard me right, paper, I am a paper fiend, I hoard paper like a miser hoards gold, I adore its bright whiteness, I have stacks of pads, reams, folios of various papers, all colors, interesting designs, recycled and cotton content and more, but its that single sheet, that one eight and half by eleven piece that makes me feel rich beyond compare, that I can use or not as I see fit, gods - it used to half kill me if I had no white paper to use, I don’t know – maybe it’s a past life memory of the rarity of paper and how abhorrently expensive it was to have real wood pulp paper and not some poor animal fascia vellum, but don’t get me wrong, vellum is pretty cool too, as are hand crafted individual sheets that lie under the hand waiting for the inspiration to fill it with these markings we call writing but it’s the single white sheet that is like a beacon, perhaps its because I am an artist of sorts, maybe its because all that blinding blankness is merely potential unrealized, a blank slate, a wax tablet as it were, that awaits in infinite patience to be an intrinsic alchemical part of creation, whether it be folded in incomprehensible origami patterns or torn into myriad pieces and reconstructed into something the same yet wholly different or perhaps receiving the splash of color from a paint brush or colored pencil or the scratching’s of an ink pen or pencil and in that moment capture a piece of time both fleeting and eternal, but white paper aside, there is so much that makes me happy, and I find unerringly that I quantify the happy’s of my life with the sorrows… I have noticed that startling trend here, for every good thing that makes me happy resides right beside it the things that make me sad, its rather ironic isn’t it that we, rather I, can only look at my happy things with my sad things right there with it, so you might ask what else makes me happy, oh lots, lots and lots, like a really good cup of tea sweetened with raw honey and a dollop of cream, yeah there’s the cream again, Earl Grey or Lemon Lift, or better yet Spiced Oregon Chai Latte – now that is the bomb of teas, and shortbread cookies or strawberry jam, clotted Devonshire cream and fresh, still warm from the oven scones, hehee, how very British, and I am not British in the slightest, and that of course leads me to another thing that makes me happy, accents, British, French, German, Italian all of them, something about them makes me happier than pigs in a poke, and yes I love it because I pick up that accent like a sea sponge and carry it with me for days, then along with my bath water away it goes, down the drain, and my sea sponge dries out once again, oh yeah I like that a lot, baths and sea sponges with lavender milk bath poured generously into the hot water, there is something about a long hot bath that makes my world a better place, showers have their uses, but baths are manna for me, maybe its because I have a grand trine in water or whatever, but baths make my week a better place and my week needs that, commuting and traffic being what they are, those baths help things along nicely, as does driving, but not in traffic, driving down country roads, meandering from here to there and back again – yes driving after having hooked a left into nowhere, it not only makes me happy its something I love, something that leads me to avenues unexplored and possibly dangerous, things that get the blood pumping as treasures and obscenities unfold as I go, yes that makes me happy and its been a long while since I have driven for the sheer pleasure of driving, maybe its because some of my fondest childhood memories are of my mother packing us all up into the jeep or truck and literally driving for hours – hours far out in the country side or the mountains or some tiny little hamlet with the best apples in twelve states, or some long abandoned homestead that we would pile out of the rig to explore avidly, wondering if floorboards would hold our weight or if that was really a treasure accidentally left behind or just a piece of flotsam of a life abandoned, yes that is a happy memory and a happy pleasure that I think I will indulge very soon, and speaking of very soon, of things that make me happy, is the simple joy of being with a knowing lover, yes - a lover who has learned the ways and means of my body, how to hold me, how to kiss me, how to drive me insensible with pleasure and passion, yes that makes me happy beyond words, for it is a rare thing to have a man that uses mouth and hands and limbs and hair to arouse me with skill and determination, oh the feel of a sultry kiss that has my toes curling and my body clenching, the feel of fingers slipping and sliding over my skin, plucking at my breasts, my sex, bringing me to the brink again and again until my entire body rises up begging for the feel of his cock buried as far as it will go inside of me, gods but that feeling is unlike any other in the world, and the sweet fury of our bodies meeting – joining, the feel of breath and teeth, the sound of moans and encouragements until at long last we are at the pinnacle of passion and are cast soaring on the pulsing rush of blood heated to the boiling point, oh yes, that makes me happy, such a puny word for such an incredible feeling, there is nothing like it, nothing that can replace it in the hierarchy of happy things, or the feel of a hand lingering lovingly on the nape of my neck, or a quick clasp of hands together, a brushing of a kiss over cheek or brow, or the phone call to see how the day is going, or the cards sent just because, or the candles lit to send sweet perfume into the air because it simply smells good, it makes me close my eyes in remembered and anticipated pleasures; of course there are other things that bring me joy and happiness like the sound of the wind rushing through the trees setting them to murmuring above my head, or the dizzying rush of words spilling from my hands to the page, a glittering jewel that spills from the black pouch of my mind, making me take a step back from myself and letting it fall where it may, yes – the flow of words that gets strung together like fresh water pearls onto the page whether written or typed that baffles and delights even the most cynical parts of me, the pure magic of our language, the sheer inadequacy of the language to convey such mundane things as happiness and pleasure, such horrible things as war and death, but its like a blast of euphoria, the nitrous of the whipped cream canister(there’s that cream again), the pulsing high of poppers(god I haven’t done those in years), the liquid rush of a shot of vodka when the words form and spill like so much water over a rocky fall, indeed besides sex there is nothing like it, okay I have to take that back don’t I, about writing and sex being the best things in the world that make me happy, there is so much more, that even writing this little bit is but the opening gambit on a life long listing of happiness’s that I am ‘a feared I will be inadequate to the task of conveying even a small portion of as even this tiny bit is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, thank god I am not the Titanic, god that image makes me laugh, so it follows that sarcastic tongue and cheek remarks also make me happy, but I have to quantify that and say that only when sarcasm and tongue in cheek isms are appropriate, I am a bit of an old fashioned lass when it comes to timing – okay I am a stick in the mud when it comes to appropriate remarks at the appropriate time, even for all of my irreverence for things, there is a time and a place for some things, and who do I think I am kidding, yep the sheer irreverence of a well placed verbal barb makes me happy, happier still if I am the slinger of said barb (which is rare thing indeed), but any how my hands grow weary and I grow weary, and another thing springs up from that very thought of being weary is that beds and sleep also make me happy, piles of lush comforters and pillows, soft sheets and cushy pads, feather beds, double pillow tops, gorgeous prints and patterns, oh yes these make me happy too, being cradled in cloud softness, hard enough to support but soft enough that pressure points are cushioned against pain and the whole body relaxes so wholly that sleep is a welcome result of all that comfort, because in sleep I am happiest with my dreams – I am telling you that my dreams should be made into movies, such epic adventures or gruesome nightmares, informative and enlightening, confusing and frightening, yes dreams are one of the top happy listers, now I am beginning to sound like an advertisement for my life, so I think for now, I will end this, but never fear the list goes on, as does the beating of my heart with all the things that make me happy and of course for balance all the things that make me sad; I hope you have enjoyed this little dance of words, I have, and now I am off to lunch, which at times makes me the happiest person in the world as does knowing that this litany of joy is three thousand three hundred and fifty eight words long.

 

[christabelll]

What happened?????


This was so much fun and I LOVED everyone's stories... I thought, well maybe, you all did too???

Stella I know you hurt your back... Drk... I know you got distracted... Jomar - You had some neat stuff too ----

Come on - its hard, yes, but oooo sooooo muccccchhh fuuuuunnnnn!!!

 

[Stella_Omega]

Omigod, that's amazing, Cristabelll!

Thank you for bumping it, I wouldn't have seen it otherwise!

Okay... The game is once more in play...

 

[drksideofthemoon]

What happened?????


This was so much fun and I LOVED everyone's stories... I thought, well maybe, you all did too???

Stella I know you hurt your back... Drk... I know you got distracted... Jomar - You had some neat stuff too ----

Come on - its hard, yes, but oooo sooooo muccccchhh fuuuuunnnnn!!!

Yes, and thanks for bumping the thread back up. I've been busy, but I do have a new idea fermenting in my head....

 

[christabelll]

Working on the next one....
its already as long as Litany..... phew... had no Idea I had so much to say LOL....

 

[lesbiaphrodite]

Her eyes spoke a kind of silent language when I looked at her across the room; liquid, deep, azure--they commanded my attention in a way that I felt almost uncomfortable with; yet, somehow, I felt entirely at home when I looked at them--like they whispered some language I had not heard since I was a very young child, like the sound of my mother's voice (and somehow not quite maternal); a surreal feeling of being transported overcame me, and I fell into a kind of trance--mesmerized, haunted, galvanized; head thrown back, my mind gone; a loss of thought, an absence of thought--only physical sensation taking over, a kind of liquid bliss, as I became entirely lost in the moment, in her eyes.

 

[jomar]

What happened?????


This was so much fun and I LOVED everyone's stories... I thought, well maybe, you all did too???

Stella I know you hurt your back... Drk... I know you got distracted... Jomar - You had some neat stuff too ----

Come on - its hard, yes, but oooo sooooo muccccchhh fuuuuunnnnn!!!

Thanks christabelll. Yeah, I've been distracted. I'll try to think of something. Hmm, maybe pick up where I left off then massage and give it to Vermillion for her wedding dress thing. Thanks!

 

[Brute_Force]

He sat at his usual table at the Acme Oyster Bar in the French Quarter and ordered a platter of shrimp and oysters from Tony K., his favorite waiter there; sitting quietly as the crowd began to enter, the good jazz music playing loud on the speakers, he smiled broadly as his platter of seafood arrived before him--beautiful pink shrimps still in their husks, freshly steamed with lemon all over them; a pile of oysters on the half-shell, soda crackers and Tabasco sauce; he took the first oyster and sprinkled hot sauce on it, letting it slide to the back of his throat; delicious stinging sensation tantalizing him; he shucked a shrimp and ate it lovingly--salt sweet taste of heaven on his tongue and a beer to chase it down--sheer heaven.

 

[jomar]

Conclusion to noir (post 51)

After I broke the lip-lock I could tell she was all flushed and jelly-legged and I wasn’t surprised, ‘cause I still got it, though maybe it was partly due to some mound mash she got from the all grown up me; you see, I had a growth spurt after we broke up and her hands couldn’t but help try to take the measure of the new me, but while I was looking forward to a strip down memory lane, I needed to know about her missing husband if I was gonna help her, and by the way, also see if the magic was still there after all these years; oh, I could tell the heat was there, but would it flame out or be like that eternal flame up in good ‘ole Washington, DC where I had a lot of contacts that might come in handy on this case (I can’t tell you who they work for, but they all work for those three letter agencies, some you don’t even know about so don’t even think of asking) because while her husband had been gone seven years and the stink might have died down on him, this whole mess was smelling like the fishing pier at the beach where she and I used to go and canoodle a bit, but I digress; I asked her what she could tell me and she told me it was a sordid tale of family dysfunction and corruption and I got a bit defensive and said if she came here to just to insult me then maybe we should just part ways now, much as I hated the thought, but after the homicidal stripper I needed that kind of relationship again like I needed to face that soccer mom’s husband again in their bedroom – any gun looks big when it’s pointed at you, especially when you’re naked – but she smiled and gave me a “No, baby, his family,” so I played it off like I knew she was kidding and said carry on, then she told me of his parents divorce and his estranged sister and emotionally unstable stepsister and there may have been something about sexual indiscretions and incest and financial blackmail and other important clues, but I was lost in her voice and imagined myself nuzzling her earlobe, nibbling down her long, sensuous neck, kissing those luscious lips, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor and gazing at her amazing form in nothing but a sheer bra, tiny matching panties, garter and stockings, standing in those amazingly high heels, her, not me, of course; I imagined I’d take her into my arms, kiss her for an eternity before unhooking the bra with one hand (I have some skills) then driving her to a frenzy by playing with her nipples with my lips, teeth, tongue and fingers; I’d have her begging me to make love to her on the oversized leather couch I’d gotten from that grateful housewife whose husband cheated on her and who didn’t have any money but worked out a payment plan that satisfied us both, because that’s my specialty, spending time on the right spot to make it almost a religious experience when I get to the spot after the appropriate amount of begging, again, her, not me (just ask those A-list actresses I used to date who still call me and ask me for the treatment when they pass through town; hell, a few have made a point of coming half-way around the world to pass through town and my talented hands; at one point they’d passed my name on to friends and it was fun for awhile until it began to be an every night thing and I don’t care what you say there is such a thing as too much sex, because when I start hallucinating giant hooters chasing me around the room due to sleep deprivation I have to draw the line), then I’d make sweet love to her on the couch until she cried out an even number of times plus one before I found my release in her because she begged me to, and as I adjusted myself in my pants she said that was all the information she could give me and told her I was on it and, well, to make a long story short, yeah, it turned out that the stepmother was screwing her son who was sleeping with his sister and they forced out the real daughter then drugged my-ex's old man, who had control of all the money as his dad was dead which is why stepmother was furious, and moved his hand across the signature line of some documents then poisoned him with belladonna, and arsenic just to make sure, and, if you can believe this right out of some Hollywood B-movie, kept him in a freezer in an out of the way mountain lodge, but because they drank so much and lived in a boozy fog they forgot to get rid of him: So I’d called in a few favors and my guys in DC did their thing and we had a body and confessions and my girl got her money and through it all our heat burned bright; I just knew I couldn’t let her get away again, so on a moonlit night on an old fishing pier I told her I was done free-lancing, with the ladies that is, I’m still a private dick – out of respect for the moment I filed the joke for later – and asked her to marry me and she threw her arms and legs around me, squealed like the coed I used to know in the back of daddy’s Caddy and said she’d always loved me and would love me forever and would have my babies and we’d live happily ever after just as soon as I signed the pre-nup.

 

[christabelll]

Too Cool

Running a high fever and at work...
but that was really cool... LOL...

Sometime in the next few days you should be receiveing my latest drivel LOLOL

 

[jomar]

Thanks. Hope you feel better soon.

 

[Stella_Omega]

"...we’d live happily ever after just as soon as I signed the pre-nup."

Very Noir indeed, Jomar

 

[Stella_Omega]

The best and the worst thing about forums-- wouldn't you agree-- is the way conversations can sweep and swoop for who knows how long-- and then languish in the back pages of the forum repository until someone like me, feeling that the time is upon us once more for expository ejaculatory oratory and other modes of (st)ory-tellilng, says; "Bump."