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The Mansion

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yeishia said:
Forgive the intrusion...this is simply perfection would you mind if I make a copy Cait?

Use it for my quotes thread.

I remember first seeing this in a blog The Discerning Dom posted by hisdarlinggirl I forgot to bookmark.

Thank you for sharing.:rose:​
Click to expand...

Of course, Yeishia. Help yourself. *smile* And you're not an intrusion. You're welcome to visit anytime. :kiss:
 
Annisthyrienne said:
Oh you are welcome to it as well, my sweet friend. I put it here only because Cait is the most coffee addicted person I know. ;) :D
Click to expand...

*smiles* thank you .... I did not relate to the coffee but the message, I guess my mind automatically inserted green smoothie :D
 
Lights winked out in the mansion and she padded through the dark to join him in the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She knew he was watching from the shadows of the bed as she stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed with him, curling into his side, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her arm curling around him.
 
Standing, leaning with my backside against the counter and a cup of coffee in my hand, trying to wake up, to think clearly. My first thought is always him. Did he sleep when I did? I know we both went to sleep at the same time. We were lying in bed together as we talked and drifted off the same way, but did he stay that way? He was alseep now, that's all that mattered.

Two posts to write today. Ice and Veroe.

ES is going AWOL to see to RW matters. I sent him off with a kiss on the cheek and I promised that if, when he returns, he wants to pick up the thread again, I am willing. I am not holding my breath. That seldom happens, where a co-writer returns and picks up a thread again.

For me, there has been one exception, but he's an exceptional man to begin with. Ice. One thread may have been discarded but he replaced it with another and it is everything I could wish for. Medieval in a sense, fantasy to be sure, a strong woman and a stronger man.

The post for Ice is currently in the making. Veroe's will soon follow. I am enjoying Veroe so much. He'll throw me for a curveball and leaves me sitting there going... What the hell am I going to do now? When it's not my Muse stumping me for words, but rather a co-writer, I get all squirmy.

And then there's FD. Damnit. We took one of his old threads and recycled it. But I always find myself waiting to see what comes next and wondering how will Alize respond. The man has me in the palm of his hand.

Fr33k. What can I say? I had no idea where this tale would go or how. I saw one little scene and because of him, it has life. I have gotten so many compliments on it. People PM me how much they are enjoying it. Fr33k is definitely a jewel. His imagination has carried this tale.

And Fish. There are times I wish Fish's RW would unchoke him long enough to grant him the ability to write because this one is a romance in the making. I didn't see the beginning, the middle is foggy but I know how I would like to see the end. No, I'm not telling but maybe I'll whisper it in his ear.

CT and FD. Man, this one should be hard, hot and hopefully unexpected. If all three of us can get this one underway, it should be really good. Currently we're waiting on CT, who it appears, is a rather busy man of late.

Se7en, well, he's kinda quiet lately. I think either he's bitten off a lot with budding tales or the RW has kidnapped him or simply this tale is going to fade. The turn this tale took was different than my vision for it, but that's the beauty of things, sometimes, they do change. We shall see. It may just end up in the recycle bin yet.

Last but not least was a surprise out of left field. SB. This one hasn't really taken off yet and I only have a slight role in it, I think. I'm looking forward to discussing this tale with him, watching it unfold before my eyes to see it through his and hopefully, give him a Calypso that meets his needs.

So~ that's my nutshell. Full of meat. *wicked grin over the rim of my coffee cup*

The man in my life, My Daddy, My Papa Bear, is always whispering in my ear, always a distraction but I wouldn't have it any other way. Supportive, encouraging, loving and always there, even when his own life's trials consume him. :heart:
 
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Sounds from his room. Crashes. Scattered bits across hardwood floors. The Maids that pass by do so with trepidation. It is not so irregular a thing. He is an eccentric, forceful presence in the Manse's halls. Something akin to a haunt, a nightmare. There are whispers of his bestial manners; his ferocious temper and appetites. But he, like a proper monster, is seldom himself revealed. The tales are spread second hand through the ranks of this place and others.

Someone said and someone heard and someone saw.

But for now there's that muted, mysterious evidence of his comings and goings. A loud clammer as something heavy hits the floor and sounds to break. A few muted rumbles, growls perhaps, though the word doesn't quite do it justice even through the massive frame of the door. One maid, a soft brunette who is too tall for most men and too lean for some, dares to try the door with her key. The old lock clicks. She bends, heels shaping her long legs in the light of the hall.

And then she's gone. Jerked inside the room as though by an invisible force. One moment she is poking her pretty face into the crack she's pushed in the door and then there's a flicker of her heels as she's tugged forcefully through it. It slams heartily behind her. Another maid gasps, startled.

There's quiet in the room.

And sounds.

Lots of sounds.

Tearing. The scrambling of little feet on a hardwood floor in heels. Thuds as heavy steps follow. Shrieks. More tearing.

Meanwhile, abandoned beside the Mistress' door, a solitary rose lays twined at the stem with a solitary tulip. Both are white. Bound by a single red ribbon. Beside it, neatly set, is a small tissue-wrapped package.
 
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Light Ice said:
Sounds from his room. Crashes. Scattered bits across hardwood floors. The Maids that pass by do so with trepidation. It is not so irregular a thing. He is an eccentric, forceful presence in the Manse's halls. Something akin to a haunt, a nightmare. There are whispers of his bestial manners; his ferocious temper and appetites. But he, like a proper monster, is seldom himself revealed. The tales are spread second hand through the ranks of this place and others.

Someone said and someone heard and someone saw.

But for now there's that muted, mysterious evidence of his comings and goings. A loud clammer as something heavy hits the floor and sounds to break. A few muted rumbles, growls perhaps, though the word doesn't quite do it justice even through the massive frame of the door. One maid, a soft brunette who is too tall for most men and too lean for some, dares to try the door with her key. The old lock clicks. She bends, heels shaping her long legs in the light of the hall.

And then she's gone. Jerked inside the room as though by an invisible force. One moment she is poking her pretty face into the crack she's pushed in the door and then there's a flicker of her heels as she's tugged forcefully through it. It slams heartily behind her. Another maid gasps, startled.

There's quiet in the room.

And sounds.

Lots of sounds.

Tearing. The scrambling of little feet on a hardwood floor in heels. Thuds as heavy steps follow. Shrieks. More tearing.

Meanwhile, abandoned beside the Mistress' door, a solitary rose lays twined at the stem with a solitary tulip. Both are white. Bound by a single red ribbon. Beside it, neatly set, is a small tissue-wrapped package.
Click to expand...

The sounds of things hitting a hard surface and spinning across the wooden floors, made her lift her eyes to the ceiling, a spot directly above her where his room was located. She shook her head and opened a desk drawer, taking out a small packet, opening it then worked little cyclindrical objects into her ears.

Ahhh, the blessed silence. Most of the time he was quiet so silent that she oft times forgot he was there. Then he took to leaving her small things, thoughtful gifts. Flowers mostly. He always left her flowers.

Time ticked by on the clock. The need for a cool drink made her leave her sanctuary and open the door to her study. She pulled the ear plugs out as she went and almost tripped over something. A package? From? The two flowers, a rose and tulip entwined with a red ribbon. Now she knew. But what could be in the package? She crouched down, gathering both gifts up and took them back to her desk. Her fingers opened the package and what was inside, made her blush. She could feel the heat infuse her cheeks and spread down her neck. The wickedly charming man.

The scuttle of feminine footsteps could be heard from above. A slamming door and none too quietly. The Ralph Lauren Oxford shirt lay unforgotten for the time being as she reached for the phone with a soft sigh.

"Um...yes... this is Caitlin. Yes, I know it's been awhile. Can you pull my file and send me the next girl's name on the list? "

There was lengthy pause and a resigned sigh on her end as she heard the front door slam shut.

"On second thought? Give me the next two names."
 
A decent night's sleep, a cup of coffee and as soon as the brain starts to click, a post for Veroe and maybe, hopefully, one for SB too. I'm still formulating that one but it's coming together.

Then the RW is going to insist I attend it. How was it Papa Bear put it? Domestic Goddess duties? Even as I think it, my nose wrinkles. However, I must acknowledge that exercise in any form would be truly welcome. I hate being forced into a sedenary lifestyle while waiting on my tests to be performed.

Yesterday afternoon/last night was odd for me. My solution? Steady as it goes. Ride it out and by the time I crawled into bed, I slept with a smile.

My thought for day? Easy, Cait. Go easy. Back up a bit. Walk softly.
 
DarkWarrioress said:
And Fish. There are times I wish Fish's RW would unchoke him long enough to grant him the ability to write because this one is a romance in the making. I didn't see the beginning, the middle is foggy but I know how I would like to see the end. No, I'm not telling but maybe I'll whisper it in is ear.
Click to expand...

I wish the same too....

I'll get there - writing is writing and I need to do it....eventually.

:rose:
 
He was dead to the world. A soft kiss was planted on his forehead before she slipped from bed, pausing to button up his shirt which dangled to her knees, perhaps a little beyond. She stole from the room, a soft click of the door behind her, small feet leading her to the kitchen. The coffeepot had gone off on time, filling the kitchen with a deep, rich aroma. A coffee mug was retrieved as was the creamer. Dark brew splashed into the cup, followed by the creamer and stirred together.

Finally. Finally, the essence of Calypso came to her. Cup in tow, she paused in the Great Room to insert a few cds into the player and restricted the music's flow to every room but the bedroom before making her way to the study and her computer.
 
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