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Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 22 Belle, Paige, Hope, & Madness In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels. To understand why Hope was currently so meek (for her) and attentive, you had to understand that her Father was a stern warrior-patriarch of a very proud and mostly traditional Korean family. At home, she was the dutiful eldest daughter in a family with no sons; here at FFU, she was aloof and deadly, except around Christina and company, where she got to be a relatively normal American girl in her early twenties. Hope's only experience with men was with her Father, who was rumored to have killed any male who looked at her sexually, or expected her to kill the ones he missed. At FFU there were no guys at all for her to form relationships with, until I arrived. It wasn't a Daddy-issue thing, Hope didn't charge off into the great unknown; she became a good student and learned, patiently and confidently. I would have time later to marvel at my brilliance; at the moment, Hope planting small kisses across my abs and chest as my shirt came up was beyond pulse searing. She didn't know stimulation so much as she understood how a body worked. She also was coolly efficient in easing my shirt over my head and off my arms. She used a strong, steadying maneuver to take each shoe and sock off before she removed my pants and underwear together. When she finished, she was left kneeling in front of me, my cock bobbing an inch or two from her lips. She stared at it. I cupped a hand over each ear and guided her lips to my blood-engorged head. I had no intention of ramming it down her throat; her parting of the lips was enough. It was on her own initiative that she licked off the pre-cum starting to appear along the slit. Her lips took in the top of the head and I stopped the pressure on her head. Hope quickly took over, leaning forward, taking in the whole head, retiring before bobbing back and letting her lips pass over the head to the start of the shaft. I let her figure out by using her mouth and wrapping my cock up with one hand what felt good to me. She was growing in confidence by leap and bounds but I was still in charge. I touched each shoulder and she looked up (pretty damn sexy with her cheeks dimpling in as she sucked my cock). "Stand up and take off your clothes," I instructed. I held her hand as she stood. Hope's removal of her clothing was no striptease, although it did have a certain military grace to it, physically perfect and fearless. Four times I had to stop myself from stepping up and ravish her as her body's muscles rippled under her smooth, ochre skin and her breasts swung loose, perfectly round and excited. "On the bed," I instructed. Hope turned presenting her taut athletic ass to me, each cheek rolling in tandem with each stride. She moved to pull back the covers but I stopped her with a word. "No," I corrected her. "I want you above the covers." Hope smoothly altered her motion so that she crawled on all fours onto the bed. She looked over her shoulder at me, deliciously presented, before rolling onto her back. I approached her on my hands and knees from the foot of my sleeping platform and languidly stalked up her body until I stopped and kissed her at the joining of the thigh to the torso. Hope remained attentive and quiet, watching me plant kisses on each side of her pubic triangle without touching it. As I worked my way up to her diaphragm, Hope raised her left leg, bent at the knee, foot resting next to her other knee. I gave a quick smile; Hope was relaxed and enjoying the moment, which is pretty special for a first-timer. I let my lips nibble along the bottom rib until I took a nip out of her waist and made her giggle. Hope shifted away as she brought the back of her hand up to stifle her snickers. I let her go. I wanted to give her a wide range of sensations to sample. Had I done this with any of the other women I'd taken to bed? No, but no two women are alike. The only person Hope compared herself to was Hope and I gave her that level of respect. I laid a path of licks and lip suction up her sternum to her far (left) breast. I circled the areola with my tongue, making sure to rub the nipple with my upper or lower lip as I made my circuit. Hope made this cute little coughing noise but otherwise remained still. Her nipple twirled around my tongue before I engulfed it with my mouth and started a strong steady suction that I accentuated by pulling my head up with her nipple extended by the upward maneuver. This earned me a twitching in her hips. Her raised leg began to flop back and forth to the side while the right leg pressed against me and opened up her crotch for exploration. I took the offer and ran my right hand along her inner thigh above the knee to her plump, moist cunt lips. On the first trip I pushed a finger in up to the first knuckle. I drew some of her juices down along her other inner thigh until I made a circle under her knee. She shivered slightly as I did so. I zigzagged on the return trip, this time running a finger from the perineum, dipping in to her cunt and making a quick twirl right beneath the clit. Two desperate breaths escaped past Hope's clenched teeth. Hope's orgasm was close, closer than she realized. I moved my lips from her breast to her ear once more. I also subjected her cunt to the energies of another finger. I made slow, shallow strokes directed at parting the labia around her now rather impressive clitoris, twisting it and squeezing it between my fingers. (Strong fingers are something you work on in Marksmanship btw.) When Hope's arms snaked up and wrapped me tightly to her, I knew she was on the home stretch. "I am going to take you now," I whispered in her ear. The thrill and confusion of my intentions tore her apart inside. She wanted to learn and obey but she also wanted to maintain her virginity, and the two ideas collided like twin locomotives. Remember, sex is in the mind and Hope's thoughts were on fire. I bit down on her earlobe at the same time I grappled with her right tit and gave several quick sharp spanks to her quim. "Zane!" she started out with a hiss but boiled into a thunderous shout. Her thighs clamped onto my fingers and she drove (no, she didn't claw, she impaled) her fingers into me like nails. The temporary deafness in my right ear was its own reward. I kissed her, running my tongue along the top and back of her teeth while her body shook and shivered. When the last of the tremors subsided I released her and pushed up with my arms, keeping my elbows half bent. "Zane, I'm sorry. I've hurt you," Hope sounded worried that her fingernails had blood on them. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation I'd go through in the showers tomorrow. Rio took perverse glee crowing over every new sexual scar I accumulated. "Hush now; on your knees facing me," I commanded. This time Hope gave a barely noticeable blink before complying. She sat there attentively, her ass resting on her heels and her palms on her thighs looking smoking hot with damp thighs and perky nipples. I shifted up the bed, keeping to my side until I was properly positioned. I then reached for the back of Hope's head and confidently directed her toward my cock once more. Hope picked up right where she'd left off; slurping my head like a lollipop. Hope didn't get overly ambitious. She sucked me in, rolled my head around her mouth using her tongue with the occasional sojourn an inch or two down my shaft. Being at loose ends since Hope was drooling all over my rod so well, I reached out and began fondling her closest breast. This time I was rough, milking her breast, gripping the base of the breast and pulling down until I pulled the nipple. No response from Hope wasn't a bad thing; if she didn't like it she'd let me know. A few more pleasurable minutes with Hope and I sat up and put my other hand on the small of her back (I have really good abdominal muscles). I brushed my hand knife-like and pinkie first down between her ass cheeks. I brushed her anus but only briefly because my target was her cunt once more. She was hot, wet, and welcoming. I worked two fingers in and pumped her as hard as I dared. When I had her rocking her hips in response to my thrusts, I jumped my fingers down and vibrantly worked over her clit. Hope choked and little shimmies emanated from her hips. Again, I switched things up on her; I moved my hand up and rotated my forefinger against her anus until it gave way. Hope made a slight gagging noise but recovered masterfully and upped the tempo of her blowjob. "Come this way," I directed her by pulling her right buttocks to me. Hope wiggled from the waist slightly so she could look down the length of my body into my eyes. I repeated my hand motion, her eyes flashed with pleasure and she quickly straddled my body. Now her cunt was nearly at mouth level (Hope's pretty tall) while her blowjob continued non-stop in our '69'. I gripped a buttock in each hand, pulled them apart and then lifted my head to her honey box. With my first lick, Hope's resolve began to fracture. I would grove my tongue, move her hips over me and then lick from her clit to the bottom of her cunt. I massaged her several times before resting my head and alternating my fingers in. When my tongue lapped at her creases once more, I trailed a finger up to her anus, no reaction. I tickled her backside for half a minute, then substituted my tongue. I probed delicately and Hope stuttered in response. I went back to twirling her clit while pushing my index finger through her sphincter. Her oral attentions finally broke down. She let my cock plop out of her mouth and rested her forehead on my hip while the overwhelming sensations crashed over her senses. I felt the tightness of her anal cavity around my finger and her cunt throbbing against my tongue. I pushed deeper with my finger and her juices started flowing as Hope became more and more aroused. Valiantly, she stepped up her game, kissing and sucking one of my balls into her mouth. I moaned, which made her very happy. Hope's clit played along my lips as I took it in and sucked on it. She was rubbing my cock shaft as she tantalized my balls when she felt it start to pulse in her hand. My cockhead was engulfed by her lips and she remorselessly gobbling up the top third of my cock with the addition of a little twisting motion with her head and throat. "I'm cumming," I growled. "Take it all but don't swallow until I tell you to." Hope drove me on faster and harder and I reciprocated on her two holes. When I took on her clit once more, it wasn't in the form of a monster wave crashing on the beach but like a building tsunami pulling the energy before pummeling in one overwhelming surge. I poked a second finger into her anus to drive her over the top. Hope's back arched violently and a thin stream of fluid squirted into my mouth. She humped my face and squeezed my fingers in her asshole in a corkscrew fashion. "Zane!" she belted out musically. "Oh, God, that's great, umm, oh, yes, don't stop." My member slapped against my stomach and my balls were starting to boil and I couldn't hold back for long. Several more flexes and grunts came from Hope before she settled down enough for me to get her to do what I wanted. "Hope, I'm cumming," I ground out once more and just in time. Hope barely got my shaft upright and her lips over my head before I began ejaculating into her mouth. She breathed sharply through her nose but didn't choke or spew. Time after time she took my seed until I mustered the strength to let her know I was done. Hope dismounted me and resumed her kneeling position supported by unsteady thighs. I was a little slower in following her though her eyes sparkled when I looked into their brown depths. "Show me," I told her. Hope opened her mouth and I saw my semen brimmed inside. I kissed her lower lip along its entire length then did the same to her upper. I didn't take any of my jizz this time, that would came another time. For now, "Swallow," I spoke, and she did in a mighty gulp. I pulled her into me and led us down onto the comforter, Hope resting in my embrace. I soaked up the gentle passion of the moment with Hope in my arms. When she started kissing me on the neck I realized that was her way of asking for more. I twisted my body and pulled Hope past me so she could extend herself onto her hands and knees with me at her side. She lowered herself, letting her long, luxurious black hair cascade over her far shoulder. My hands roamed over the back of her neck and shoulders while I kissed her mid and lower back. I shifted from her side, ending up behind her. I gave a slight nudge to her calf to get Hope to open her legs wide and let me position my hips behind her. I gave my rod a few strokes to get it ready but really the visual tableau of the tightly sculpted muscles of her shoulders, back, hips, and buttocks made the physical stimulation superfluous for me. Keeping my eyes on Hope, I leaned way back and rummaged under the rolled-up blanket at the foot of the bed. The heating pad I'd asked Barbie Lynn to place there made finding the vial of viscous scented oil that was being warmed up easy. I was pleasantly assured of my feel for Hope to notice she hadn't looked back to see what I was up to. That took a great deal of confidence and trust. The serenity with which Hope greeted the thin stream of liquid as it steamed while flowing from her tailbone into her cleft was intensely arousing to my sight. I set down the container and began rubbing the oil in. First I started around the anus but I soon moved over each cheek, massaging them as well. When I coasted down to her inner thighs Hope figured out what was really going on and I could swear I heard a phantom cough of amusement. She knew I'd tricked her in a playful way. A few seconds later she pieced together the why, distracting her was secondary to easing the fatigue creeping through her thighs, lower back and ass brought on by several tense orgasms. There would be no muting of our joining. For ten minutes she relaxed and soaked up the hot oil working into her flesh. I restarted my efforts by kissing each hip, signaling her that I was anxious for her flesh. I placed one hand on the small of her back and lined up my cock at the top of her ass crack. I gently rocked forward, pushing my cock onto her back. Swaying back, I let my cock slip off her ass, letting it swing free before thrusting forward once more. This time I directed it languidly along the base of her cunt, letting my cockhead part her lips and plow her furrows until I touched then passed the clit on my way through her pubic hair and beyond. I repeated this orchestra of lust, adding in a movement where my bulbous head pressured her sphincter to the point of violation before sliding elsewhere. "Jesus, Zane," Hope sung out, "make up your mind. You are driving me crazy." Hope wasn't being exhorted to climax by any loss of control; it was the tension brought about by not knowing what direction the lesson was going to take. For someone else it would be as if you were reading LA Confidential one night only to discover that the last quarter of the book was missing and not accessible until the next morning. "There will be no intercourse for us tonight, Hope," I informed her. I began pumping along her cunt, mimicking the fucking motion. Time and again I let my cock head cut along her labia, brush her clitoris until it was stimulated by the low ridges along the shaft. It didn't take long for Hope to start pushing back against me to maximize my 'depth'. Hope clenched the sheets as we both increased the violence of our impacts. Her breath was coming in labored huffs and sweat began beading up all over her skin. Considering how fit Hope was, I was impressed with the intensity with which she embraced our sympathetic coupling. "No, not yet; keep going," was her self-encouraging mantra. "Don't let go, don't let go. Push him, push him harder." I scooped up the long tail of Hope's hair and guided her body up off her hands so that her back slid up and down my chest. Our hands did a little dance of their own. She ended up with her left reaching across and holding on to my right at her breast. My right still held the majority of her long locks, and I used those to give a silken caress to my coaxing of her right breast to sensual overload. My left hand landed on her stomach and used that perch to push her harder into me with each thrust. Her left hand wandered back to my ass. Hope's nails dug in deep (am I being marked/branded?) and she matched her pull with my push between her legs. When she finally succumbed to her climax, vaginal juices washed over my cock and down both our thighs. I was perfectly poised to support my lovers body as she surrendered to her orgasmic impulses and erotic energies coursed chaotically through her system. Her murmurs signaled she was regaining control and she made it definite by placing a series of kisses along my right arm. I coaxed us down on the bed facing one another. "I still don't know if I want to have sex tonight," Hope smiled sleepily. "It is your choice to make," I answered. "We both know you have the confidence now to make that decision when you are ready." "Are you looking out for me, Zane?" Hope teased me wearily. "Of course. I look out for all my ladies, even those who can take care of themselves just fine," I noted. She nodded and I realized that she'd tentatively opened the door into her inner circle of friends. "To answer an earlier question, I take no pleasure in ordering you around as some kind of power trip. I communicated with you in a manner that maximized your focus on our caresses." She nodded and gave me an affectionate peck on the forehead, reaffirming her dominant status. "You will come with me and shower," she ordered me. I retrieved two robes and my shower kit and a naked Hope lead me to the Solarium shower. We did not bathe ourselves; we lathered, rubbed, and rinsed the other, and I could tell Hope relished the experience. "Tell me something: how come you and Heaven have never snuck off in the woods and knocked boots?" she mused. "You are not asking because you think we did and didn't talk about it so you must be wondering what it would be like if we did, so yes, I would fuck you if you asked me to while doing a little shooter-spotter bonding out in the forest," I related to Hope; on the Marksmanship team, I was the spotter to her shooter. Her eyes flashed like lightning on a pitch black night. A powerful, lethal rifle in hand and a lover penetrating her was Hope's aphrodisiac, her perfect storm. "You should get ready for that. I definitely think it will make us a more simpatico team," Hope smiled and rubbed her breasts against my chest. "Are you going to make me obey you?" "I'm going to stick a ponytail up your ass and make you call me Master," I confided. "Oh, so how do you want your bullets; orally, anally or at high-velocity?" she remarked as her grin became more feral. "I've got nothing but love for you, Baby," I joked. We finished toweling off and headed for the bedroom area. We immediately noticed that while the sofa-beds were still open, they were unoccupied. Had we been that loud? I'm being rhetorical, I am the soul of discretion but I bring out the vocalist in every woman I meet. Inside the screens I could make out the forms of multiple girls having already settled in under the covers. Rio and Mercy were intertwined at their usual place on the far side of the bed. Barbie Lynn was curled up, facing away from us, in the middle of the platform, and Vivian was on her back, eyes closed, stretching out on the near side. I motioned Hope to follow me to the spot between Barbie Lynn and Vivian at the foot of the bed. She looked down at her carefully placed clothes then back to me. Her gaze went to the clock on one of the wardrobes, back to me, then she followed. We lay in each other's arms for a few minutes as our hair dried and bodies wound down. "Umm, that was definitely more than I envisioned, Zane," Hope sighed happily while staring up at the clouds in the night sky. "I need to be going but I look forward to seeing you in the morning." "No, you are staying the night," I stated. Hope pushed herself up into a kneeling position, hands on her thighs and her ass resting on her heels. "You are getting off on ordering me around, aren't you?" Hope smirked. To maintain the illusion, I didn't answer. I did get on my knees, wrapped my arms around her waist, and pulled us both into a kneeling, upright posture. Our mutual attraction brought our fresh bodies into contact. Hope exhaled and let her hands come to rest on my buttocks and the side of her head rest against my collarbone while my hands cupped each of her ass cheeks. Hope then did something I hadn't even imagined; she purred like a sated cat and snuggled firmly into my embrace. "Thank you, Zane," she whispered. "You're welcome, my Little Thunder" I responded. I knew I could have said something like 'you are worth it' or 'you did all the real work,' but I went with what felt right and those were the words she wanted to hear. Never just another Monday Morning. Death is inevitable; no one can force it upon you or save you from it. "Zane," a woman whispered in my ear. It is a testament to my out-of-control sex life that I didn't immediately know the identity of the woman in my bed even though drugs and/or alcohol were not involved. "Yes, Hope?" I turned and whispered back. "We are surrounded," her eyes glimmered. Indeed, we had been surrounded in the few hours we'd been asleep. Barbie Lynn had crowded in on Hope's section of the bed. As Hope rolled onto her side and snuggled into me, Barbie Lynn wiggled in behind her and pressed her magnificent boobs into Hope's back. She had even put her upper arm to rest on Hope's and had situated her right lower thigh and calf between Hope's legs. On the other side of the equation, Vivian was on her side, left leg laid over my thighs and left hand on my chest, on top of Hope's hand. Both our new female companions were sound asleep and snoring softly. "What do you want me to do about it?" I inquired quietly. "I don't know," Hope seemed conflicted. "Barbie Lynn is having a good dream." "And?" I wondered. "Her nipples are digging into my back and she's humping my ass," Hope grinned. At least she wasn't offended. "What would you do?" "Turn over slowly, push her on her back, spread her legs and then slip two fingers into her cunt and pump her," I tried not to snicker. "Work in small circles, then start suckling on a nipple; she likes a bit of teeth." "I've never been sexually involved with a woman," Hope said. It wasn't a statement but a declaration of an issue she was contemplating. "You would like to see Barbie Lynn and me, pleasuring one another, would you not?" Hope mused. "Absolutely," I nodded slightly, enough not to wake our companions. "I'll bring it up to her over breakfast," she informed me thoughtfully. "I need to look into her clear blue eyes when I talk this idea out with her." "She'll like that," I murmured, "and that is what she deserves too." Though asleep (we hoped), Barbie Lynn nuzzled into Hope's ear and let her hand drop down onto Hope's closest breast. "She's not making waiting easy," Hope looked worried concerning her desire to postpone the encounter. "The best things in life are never easy," I pointed out before we both drifted back off. Good News,  Rejection I woke up with the feeling that something was wrong but I couldn't place it. The alarm wasn't going off, the phone wasn't ringing, and there were no sirens screaming. Vivian, on my left side, had worked her way between my arm and my body and was draped over half of my form. The awkwardness only increased when I realized she'd slid a hand between her legs. That wasn't so bad except it also meant the back of her hand was also rubbing along my cock. Her other hand had come to rest against my neck on the far side and her face was blowing softly on my neck's near side. Remember the arm she'd separated from my side? The devilish hand at the end of that arm had somehow wedged itself under her underwear and was holding one of Vivian's ass cheeks. Vivian began the slow, steady process of awakening, bringing about a strange paralysis in me. As her mind wandered its way toward alertness, both of her hands fidgeted slightly. My pulse jumped and my rod raced to iron hardness against her wrist as she stirred. "Your hand is on my ass," she murmured. "I'm sorry," I gulped. "I wish I could say I was sorrier but I'm not. My only excuse is that I was asleep when it happened." "I know, Zane, I put your hand on my ass," Vivian said, her breath tickling my jugular. "It was already close and, I was curious." I blinked up at the ceiling, having moments ago misread the evidence and believed I'd violated this woman's trust in me. "I am going to spank you," I seethed. "I am going to strip down your panties and spank your ass for putting me through what you just put me through." "Does it buy me any goodwill if I tell you that Chastity brought some things over for Hope last night?" Vivian wondered. "They're over on the dresser. That's why I cut the alarm off, so you two could get some more sleep." "The alarm is off," Hope whispered. "What time is it?" She didn't sound so happy. "I didn't hear you wake up," Vivian apologized. "Long-range shooting involves controlled breathing," Hope answered. "What time is it?" Vivian rolled over, leaned off the bed, and retrieved her phone. "5:27," Vivian hissed back to us. "Oh," moaned a sleepy Barbie Lynn. "I guess Zane and I will have to do it in the shower again, not that I mind," she finished with a sexy grin. "No marathon session if you go downstairs," Vivian cautioned. "Zane and I have already showered," Hope said, "So we can avoid the ritual at this time." "How was it?" Barbie Lynn propped herself on an elbow and gazed upon Hope's face. "I will never look at Zane touching or kissing another woman in the same way," Hope imparted to her. "I'll talk about the details when I've digested the lessons I learned last night." "Yes, lessons," Hope confirmed as she rolled back the covers and sat up. "It is his chosen method for our sex play, that of female student and male instructor." "That's just fascinating;" grumbled Rio, "but some of us do need showers. If Zane doesn't put in an appearance, hey, what are you doing, Monkey?" Rio's attention turned to Mercy. Mercy had rolled on top of Rio, elevated on all fours, and was now sucking on and nibbling Rio's left nipple. "Did I tell you to do that?" Rio quizzed Mercy. Mercy shook her head in the negative but kept hold of the tit in her mouth. "Don't you worry, you annoying cunt," Rio grinned evilly, "I've got something planned for your insubordination this time. Now scoot." This time Mercy did wiggle off Rio. "Why don't you play teacher/student with me?" Barbie Lynn teased me. "You eat ice cream with a spoon and steak with a knife, Barbie Lynn, but hell, if you want to play Merry Monk and Naughty Nun with me, I'm game," I grinned. Barbie Lynn's grin equaled mine and added a salacious tongue running along the lips. She is my best sexual partner ever. "Before you run off can I ask Zane for one favor first?" Vivian asked the ladies. I was hoping she'd be considerate enough to ask me too. "Atta girl," Rio perked up. "Ride his face. Get his patented tongue-tickle wakeup call." "That's not what I have in mind," Vivian responded. "Sure," Barbie Lynn answered Vivian's request. "What; are we stockholders in Zane now?" Hope inquired. "I withhold my vote until I know what Zane has to do and how he feels about it." "Thanks, Hope," I looked over at her. "You are my spotter. If you are distracted, your performance suffers and so does mine," she smiled. "It is enlightened self-interest." Yeah, right. "I understand, Hope," Vivian nodded. "I knew if I asked Zane, he would consult with you ladies so I elected to take on any of your rejections myself. Zane, would you let me cuddle up against you for a few more minutes? That's all I want." "Sure," I agreed. This wasn't going to be so hard. Unfortunately, fate is cruel and I'm an idiot if there was ever any doubt. Vivian maneuvered so that her back was to me and she was pressed into my body. Hellish complication number one: when Vivian had leaned off the bed, I had removed my hand from her underwear, causing it to have ridden half-way down her ass. Hellish complication number two: I sleep naked; my cock was hard and wedged between said ass cheeks, and I mean wedged in deep. Hellish complication number three: "Zane, could you wrap your arm around me, please?" Vivian murmured. I had a feeling she had closed her eyes, feigning sleep, so I draped an arm over and rested it on her stomach, nice and safe. Vivian took my hand and pulled it to a point underneath her right tit and slightly into her cleavage beneath her shirt. Okay, I'm thinking, I'm still safe. I can do this for a few minutes and not crack. I had a really good time with Hope last night and I'm not running at a 100% over-stupid like I normally am. Vivian started to stretch, her back arching away from me while her shoulders and hips pushed in. I had to admit that her hair smelled great. I knew what to do next, but then I realized that what I had to do was think like someone who didn't know what to do. (Confused? Join the club) "What do I call you?" I whispered into her ear. "Vannie," she responded quietly. 'Vannie' must be the nickname her boyfriend uses. "Time to wake up, Vannie," I breathed. Vivian kept arching her back, with some gradual hip rotation added to the mix. My cock was rubbing down between each buttock; my hand was being pushed over the top of her shirt-covered breast. I had a reprieve when the bell's edge of my phallus caught on the waistband of her panties. Vivian swiveled her hips a few more times and then rotated her shoulders so that the palm of my hand wove circles over her breast. Her enticed nipple came out to play by twisting with my movements. I still had some hope, though, that she'd stop soon. When she ran her hand from her stomach to her crotch I prayed that a little self-stimulation was all she was seeking. With her left hand, which I hadn't tracked, she worked her panties half way down her thighs before resuming her gymnastic routine. Then her fiendish hand migrated over her thigh and cheek until it wrapped around my cock and gave it a squeeze. I had to do something quickly. "Vannie," I whispered with more urgency, "you really need to wake up." Vivian faked a yawn then wiggled violently against my hips. This allowed her to force my cock through her ass crack and between her thighs. Vivian was showing a surprisingly inherent talent as a champion lap-dancer. I had done the whole pseudo-sex thing last night with Hope so why was I being subjected to this again? "Vannie, I wish you didn't have to go." That caused a hiccup in her performance. Her hip movements became almost romantic in their tenderness and a low contented growled emanated from her chest. I racked my personality assessment of Vivian to figure out what to do next. Sexual conduct is best when you know what your partner is looking for and meeting that expectation. I took my hand from her breast, sauntered it up her sternum to her neck and jaw. I tilted her head toward me. Her eyes were still closed as if asleep so she made no reaction as I leaned in for a chaste kiss, no tongue. She kissed back in an equally tender fashion. "You need to wake up, Vannie," I said one last time. She nodded, gave me another kiss, and then let her head settle back on the pillow. "Thank you, Zane," Vivian told me as she looked up and over her shoulder at me. "Fuck it all, Bro!" Rio yelled. "Your cock is in her ass. Fuck her! Fuck her! This is your chance to nail the stuck up bitch." "She's not a stuck up bitch and my cock is not in her ass," I countered. "Trust me," Barbie Lynn provided her input, "if that meat was up her ass, the look on her face would be totally different." What happened to normal days of waking up where we greet each other, ask about our plans for the day, and wonder what we are having for breakfast? Seriously, who has discussions about what a girl's face would look like with my cock up their ass first thing in the morning? "On that wonderful note, I'm going to, I suddenly realized I was boned by reality. I had nowhere to go. I didn't need to shower and I didn't have to be anywhere for an hour and a half. Speaking of boners, why wasn't Vivian letting go of my cock, which she held tightly against her cunt lips? Well, if you can't be happy, "Vivian, could you stay with me a little longer?" I requested gently. "That's it," Rio chuckled. "Lure her in with that patented Braxton seduction then tap that ass good." There was rustling from Rio's side of the bed. "Mercy, you stay put." "I'm going down and talking to the other girls," Barbie Lynn announced. "Zane, I'll explain things to our shower buddies." With that, she scooted away from the covers and crawled off the foot of the bed. "I'm going to put some clothes on," Hope spoke up. "It is something of a marvel that so many of you seem comfortable in your nakedness but I'm not there yet." She too made her way off the bed and to the clothes Chastity had left for her friend. "Sure, Zane, I'll stay a little longer if you like," Vivian was finally allowed to respond. I nestled into her and she molded tightly to me. As I was busy inhaling the scent of her hair my hand returned to her stomach. This time it was a little lower, like brushing the top of her pubic hair lower. Vivian did me two better. Her right hand reached back and stroked my hair as I rested my lips on her neck, innocently of course. Her left hand was up to far worse; she reached down and began to pet my cockhead that was conveniently poking between her legs at cunt level. At that point, I'm trying to figure out why in the hell Vivian is torturing me. A loud slap of a hand on ass echoed to me from Rio's side of the bed. Mercy squeaked. Then it occurred to me; two could play at Vivian's game. The hand on the stomach wandered up her body, underneath her sleeping jersey and began fondling her left breast, including the occasional pull on the nipple. Another spanking resounded from the Rio/Mercy duo as I freed my left hand from beneath me and wrapped up Vivian's hair. I tilted her head toward me and began kissing her lips. Her mouth opened at my approach and we were soon wrestling back and forth with our lips and tongues. A third slap of Rio's paddle on Mercy's ass rang out. I began pumping against Vivian's ass. As my cockhead withdraw deep into her muscular thighs her hand followed. I stopped when her fingers touched her clit. I'm still somewhat unclear on how Christian school girls stand on masturbation but it obviously didn't matter that Vivian was doing it right now, she had her shirt bunched up above her breasts, her panties around her knees, and my cock massaging her cunt. Two more smacks echoed from Mercy's paddling which concluded with a squeal of pleasure. Sometimes those two, I guess the next step is for them to be the first FFU openly lesbian couple or a Bonnie and Clyde crime spree, based on which way the neuron misfires in Rio's noggin. As for which way Vivian's brain was going off the rails, I wasn't totally certain. "Yes," she broke our kiss. "Yes, yes, yes," she panted. We were now rocking with some real synergy. She titled her face away from me and placed her chin on her chest as her breathing became rapid and shallow. Farther down, my cock and her fingers became impossibly slick with a mixture of my pre-cum and her vaginal fluids. I picked up the tinglings from her cunny first but they rapidly spread to her stomach and thighs. "Yes, oh, yes, oh, Holy God, ugh, ugh, ugh, Yes!" Vivian cried out. More liquid sloshed against my cock, not too much but enough to make me shoot, all over her hand and thighs. "Oh, oh, oh, it's been so long," she wheezed through tortured lungs. We rapidly put the brakes on our action and settled into a comfortable embrace. A minute later she gave me one last playful ass wag and sat up. My cock was thankfully going into a dormant state. Vivian had swung her feet off the bed, then turned and kissed me (chastely once more). "Thank you, Zane," she smiled as she began lapping my semen off her hand. "I can't wait to try this out with my boyfriend." Plus side: Vivian was getting the courage to get back with the long-time boyfriend who had 'accidentally' taken her virginity. I'd like to make Vivian's quality of life better. She also liked the taste of my seed. Down side: I'm back to being a practice dummy for the ambitious girls around me. Also, she liked the taste of my seed. "I appreciate you letting me loosen up and work out some of my issues with you," Vivian completed. Why can't a woman be satisfied with being a total jerk to me so I can stay angry with them for more than five seconds? I know there are chicks out there that get out of bed, sneer down at their former lover, and belittle them before laughing like the Wicked Witch and sauntering out the door. I blame my misconceptions on Lifetime TV, my Aunt watches it, honest. I flopped down on the bed and stared at the last bit of dark skies before the first rays of sunlight drove them away. Hope stepped into my field of view, grinning, with her ponytail dangling down and tickling my nose. "Zane, I really care for you and I am saying this with the utmost sincerity," Hope began. "You should have let Christina throw you out that first day," she smiled. "I have trained in the martial arts since I was five yet I've never seen anyone take a beating like you have in my entire life. The Energizer Bunny has nothing on your staying power, Zane. From Barbie Lynn at the beginning of the semester to Vivian right now, you just get it coming and going. I'm in awe with your inability to learn from your mistakes. I mean that in the kindest way." "Have I done anything right?" I sighed. Hope grabbed my nose, pinched it painfully, and yanked my head over for eye-to-eye contact. "You do a lot right, Zane, no pity party for you. I can name a dozen women who would charge into a burning building to save you, me included," she pointed out. "Zane, I want to protect you, and my Father taught me to ignore the cries of my own family if we were ever attacked because that would reveal my position," Hope informed me. Man, that is just plain fucked up in so many ways I don't even want to get into. What kind of father does that to his little girl? "I've never had a pet; I sleep with an automatic pistol under my pillow and a combat shotgun beneath my bed. I couldn't imagine anyone would consider himself a man unless he was versed in at least three forms of combat. I don't think I need to go into my instructions should a man touch me inappropriately, much less touch me when I was naked," she smiled warmly. "Wait," I mused after a moment's retrospection, "you want to protect me? Can't I be the one protecting you?" "Okay," she replied thoughtfully, "after Karate Club today, you and I can spar and if you can take me two out of three submissions, I will allow you to protect me." Wait, I am going to risk getting my ass kicked for what? It isn't like she's going to sleep with me if I win, and I can definitely get some action with Cappadocia if I refuse. "I'd like to but I have plans," I shrugged. "I am sure Cappadocia will understand. Besides, I might finish you off quickly and the two of you can get at it when I leave," Hope countered. "What makes you think, ?" I get out. "Zane, you live in a glass house, literally. You and her are no great secret," Hope interrupted. "Fine, let's see who gets schooled this time," I agreed. "So, how many years of Karate have you had?" "None," she smiled sweetly. "If it matters, I am advanced in the teachings of Taekkyeon, Hapkido, and Geom Do." "I have no clue as to what those styles are," I admitted. "A striking techniques style, a mixed martial arts style, and Korean Sword fighting," Hope informed me without a hint that she was offended by my ignorance. I knew that was a vast simplification of what those schools taught but from my limited experience, we could sit back and discuss them for twenty years and not cover every nuance. What I did know was, this school had more than its fair share of females unusually skilled in the arts of killing their fellow sentient life forms. Wait, was this the Hell Mouth and I am surrounded by an army of Buffy's, Faith's and Willow's? Did that make me Zander? Maybe I was Oz. He got to be a werewolf after all. "Where do you go," Hope asked with intense curiosity, "between that blink of your eye and the next?" "I'm imagining what you look like without your bra and panties on," I lied. I said that because I wanted to see her reaction, not because I had a hope in hell of her believing that. She did nothing. "I try to put my current circumstances in a context, no matter how crazy, that allows me to figure out what I should do next." "I should have known that you would embrace a cosmic embryonic spirit when making crucial decisions," Hope noted. Translation: I'm nuts. "I am glad you pierce through my many layers of obfuscations to see the real me," I retorted. "I am glad you see the real me too," she smiled. I got dressed, pulled out some homework, was jumped by my cohort of hotties, stripped down so they could examine my new collection of war wounds before finally letting me regain my clothing and dignity, while the ladies whispered conspiratorially about me. With the help of Vivian and Iona, I actually made it to the Dining Hall for breakfast by seven. Hope, Barbie Lynn, and Vivian broke free and headed for the senior tables first but soon it was just Iona, Rio and me. Paige stopped by only long enough to check on our status; I kissed her on the inside of each wrist and she ran her fingers through my hair and straightened my collar. I had Rio check me for electronic devices because Paige likes me but she is in the Time Lord Mafia, as is Iona. I have a little feud going on with their leader. On the way out the door, Raven caught up with me for a status update on our project. She'd written a beautiful opening paragraph and I told her that we would have the books from George Mason on Wednesday or Thursday. We asked how our weekends went; she went to the Soccer match up in Maryland and I had avoided sex the entire time. Raven seemed pleased by the news and I'm not even in a relationship with her. Okay, I may be the only one who believes I'm not in a relationship with her but I'm happy ignoring the rest of the world at this moment. Once I passed the Dining Room threshold I was brutally reminded that I still had Handmaiden's Duty. She was a nice, voluptuous junior named Georgia who was quite tall and quite well stacked. My task; to name all the descendants of Noah listed in the Book of Genesis. Every time I got one wrong I had to kiss her. I'd complain about the blatant sexual harassment but a) I like kissing girls and b) I could do without the ridicule of the entire school, check that; anymore ridicule from the entire school than what I was already getting. My some miracle I made it through enough names for Christina and company to surround us (Vivian, my guardian, was right there too). Georgia suspended her punishment gracefully as Heaven pulled me aside. "We have a date for Tuesday night," she beamed like a thousand suns. "Cool. Should we bring anything?" I inquired. "No. She's doing barbeque pork chops and chicken breasts, plus some other Southern stuff that I have no clue about what it is," Heaven informed me. "What is a hush puppy?" "Deep-fried corn meal batter, I think," I tossed out there. "When do we go over?" "5:30, and she'll have beer for me and Doctor Pepper or Sun Drop for you," she giggled. She was of legal drinking age and I wasn't, and Danica, our date, was a Lancaster City patrolwoman. "I'll meet you at the car, Babe," I grinned down at her while squeezing her in my arms. "But we have to be going," I noted. Arriving late to Assembly was unforgivable. "Zane, I've decided to tell my Father about you," Hope dropped her bomb right as we headed off again. I stumbled. "Zane?" Vivian and Georgia asked simultaneously. "Do you know how I say we should all live every moment as if it were our last? Well, never have I felt that to be truer than right now," I grinned fatalistically. "Thanks Hope." Around Memselbub, or whatever his God-damn name was, I lost track of Noah's grandsons and began kissing Georgia a lot. About Using-Half-The-Damn-Letters-In-The-Alphabet's name, I caught a furtive hand movement by Rio and Mercy give a little jolt but I didn't have time to delve into that right then because I caught sight of Cordelia coming to Assembly from another angle. I had a stroke of inspiration, or maybe I just had a stroke, because I dropped my bag and charged the svelte, sexy brunette Top Gun of the Time Lord Mafia, aka the Science Club, and it was about time I applied a fresh coat of paint (whoop ass) to her little red wagon. I pushed through the crowd of girls and got within six feet of Cordelia before I registered on her radar. Cordelia is a quick thinker and meticulous planner so it took her only one foot of space to figure out that this was the 'he's got no plan' that she'd been told about. I chose the blindly opportunistic blitz attack because even I didn't know what I was doing, so how could she figure it out? Cordelia squealed, dropped her book bag, and ran for it. Now, I'm not really the moron that I often appear to be and this attack was not me blindly flailing at the world. Safety laid in either a building she could shut the doors upon entry or the Assembly Hall. Her problem was that both options sucked. She'd have to push through a press of girls to get inside the Assembly Hall; I was bigger and stronger and would definitely catch her if she tried that. Running to another building, then, was her only real chance. That was a problem of physics, crowd dynamics, and physiology, all of which she was good at. Sure, I was the faster runner, but Cordelia would break free of the crowd first, giving her a head start. The question was; would it be enough? Cordelia made for Simmons Hall, which was a good plan except for one annoying aspect of school life, politeness. Two girls were hurrying out of the building but stopped to hold the door for her, and me. Had Cordelia made it to the stairwell at the end of the hall she could have held the door against me long enough for us to risk being late for Assembly. It was good, quick thinking. The politeness cost her one lonely second and that was all it took. I grappled her in the hallway and rolled us onto the ground. Cordelia was giggling and screeching and trying to wiggle free but I would have my revenge. I finally got her on her stomach and her arms pinned behind her back when Vivian caught up, looking incredibly peeved. "Okay, Zane, you got me, you got me. I give up," panted Cordelia. "That's nice," I responded. I hooked her closest leg, flung off her shoe and yanked off her sock. "Damn, Zane, are you going to make me walk around barefooted?" Cordelia snickered. "Nope," I answered as I went after her other foot. Cordelia struggled but not overly much. It was all fun and games until I tied one sock around her ankle then secured the same side hand to the ankle behind her back. She fought harder to keep the other wrist/ankle set free but I got those to. I'd hog-tied her, sort of. "Oh, come on," Cordelia moaned, starting to get pissed. "Zane, stop this," Vivian warned. "Vivian, do you want to see pictures of us, you and I, on the internet? Because that is exactly what this is about," I explained. "Cordelia feels like she can fuck with my life without repercussions. I'm not even asking her to stop, only to give me a warning before she does anything that is going to make my life rough." "Things like Barbie Lynn and me in the shower, Cordy," I grumbled. "But it was so hot to watch, Zane," Cordelia countered. "All it takes is two phone calls; one to me and one to her," I pointed out. "Vivian, can I have a red marker?" Vivian thought about it for a second, then handed it over. I went around to Cordelia's face and began writing on it. Cordelia was fuming and only got angrier when, by touch alone, she figured out what my message was. "Fine," Cordelia growled, "lesson learned. Let me up." "Nope. They will find you when Assembly is over," I informed her. Now she thrashed about for real. "Don't do this, Zane," Vivian cautioned me. "I'll explain later, I promise," I responded to my guardian. "Cordelia, we are going now. Do you need anything?" "I could use a sip of water," she smirked. I went over to the water fountain, drank some in, filled up my cheeks then knelt down beside her and let her suck the water out of my mouth. "Umm, Zane spit, my favorite flavor," Cordelia joked. Vivian and I made for the door. "Oh, come on, Zane," Cordelia called out. "This isn't funny anymore. Let me go." "They will let you go around 9:05 when the first students show up, Cordelia," I shouted over my shoulder. "I hope you give this little exhibition some thought." As we sprinted across the campus grounds, we spotted Iona standing guard over my book bag. "Thanks, Iona," I grinned. "It was something I had to do." "Oh, it gets worse," Iona sighed morosely. "Zane, it wasn't my idea." She handed a cloth bracelet made of an intertwined white and green thread to Vivian. "I'll get you a blue thread as it seems you've earned it." Any explanation was cut off by the bell for Assembly. We raced into the seats various compatriots had saved for us with bonus confusion of having Georgia sitting next to me. Chancellor Bazz was back in charge but I didn't have too much time to notice; Georgia had returned to her Bible quiz and I was screwing up big time. Much secretive kissing ensued. Once we exited the Assembly, the mass of us disseminated to our various first classes. Iona had to go a different way than me but Rio stuck close. I noticed she and Mercy both had more elaborate bracelets. "So, what's up with this," I tapped it. "He-he," Rio gloated. "It is an indicator of what you've done to us, or we to you." "Whose idea was this?" I groaned. "Three guesses, Brainiac," she laughed. "What does mine indicate?" Vivian worried. "Kissing and groped," Rio snickered. "I'll make sure you get your blue strand asap. That means you've been naked with him." Vivian gave me a concerned look. "Still feeling sorry about leaving Cordelia tied up?" I joked. "Our Lord Christ teaches us to forgive those who have trespassed against us," Vivian quoted. "Wait, you guys tied up Cordelia? Where? And can I go get me some?" Rio exulted. "She's free by now," I let down my buddy. "He did write 'Paige is smarter' on her face with a red marker," Vivian added. "Bro, she is going to kill you," Rio giggled. "Nah, Cordelia is angry but she doesn't buy into revenge," I stated. "She will look for other schemes to control me and I'll find other ways to keep her in line." "What has Cordelia done to control you?" Vivian asked. "Vivian," I sighed, "why do you think Cordelia would create a free porn site with my sexual antics as the main attraction? She can see me perform whenever she wants, but why share it?" "That is convoluted as fuck," Rio griped. Vivian was thinking that over. "So she gets at you by putting at risk the women you are with," she thought out loud. "You two are playing a game of chicken. She threatens to expose those who have sex with you, and you dare her to do just that. It seems to me you two are putting other girls at risk in your simple little game." "It is not a game, Vivian, it is not little, and it definitely isn't simple," I explained. "It is not me versus Cordelia any more than it is Rhaine versus Christina, or the Progressives resisting Chancellor Bazz. Everyone wants something and most are willing to aggressively pursue those goals. I mean, you found a use for me in less than four days." "I, I, Vivian stuttered because I'd laid bare this morning's activities. She was saved by the entrance to my classroom. She dropped me off, then returned to her normal schedule. My ass had barely touched my seat when I got a text. Apparently, I had an important phone message. It turned out to be from the Vice Chancellor's office. "Hello," Ms. Reveal, who, like the Vice Chancellor, was new to the school, answered, "Doctor Scarlett's office." "Hi, this is Zane Braxton. Did you assign me a meeting with the Vice Chancellor?" "Yes, Mr. Braxton, and you have one minute to get here," the young lady informed me. "When did Doctor Scarlett tell you to call me?" I asked, right as Ms. Goodswell walked into the room. I was almost out of time. "I don't see how that was relevant," Ms. Reveal sounded cross. "Well, sorry then, but the nine o'clock hour isn't good for me. English rocks so call me back when there is another opening in the good Doctor's schedule," I said smugly. "Wait, you can't, Reveal got out before I hung up. I enjoyed the class while noticing that no one rang me back. I was suspicious that Scarlett was yanking my chain and no calls pretty much confirmed that. At the end of class Virginia Goodswell pulled me and Raven, my project partner, aside. After all, last time she'd seen us together, we'd had, difficulties. "Are you two making positive progress?" She smiled to us. "Yes, we are," Raven chimed in. "I've created our opening statement and Zane is getting four books from George Mason for us to use as source material." Virginia looked at me askance. "Raven, this might be a good time to inform you that we are getting those books under a third party's name because Rio picked his pocket and checked them out using his student ID and password," I told my partner. "Zane, if you are exhibiting this much larceny for a freshman English project, what are you going to do for Finals?" Virginia teased me. It was clearly too late to chastise me. "As I recall, the Library of Congress's security is provided by the lowest bidder," I retorted. "God give me strength," Raven and Virginia said with perfect symmetry. I may not be respected but I am treated with tolerance and compassion, which is more than I should expect. Vivian escorted me to the second class of the day, Biblical Archeology, which I shared with Rio. At the door Vivian tapped my arm. "At Homecoming I'd like you

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Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

El Tango ya cumplió más de un siglo, los pioneros de nuestra música nos dejaron hermosas composiciones con sonidos recordables y fina poesía a raudales, suficiente como para que nuestra música rioplatense, perdure más allá de las centurias. Durante todo este tiempo, exportamos tangos a los rincones más recónditos del mundo, ahí donde se oye buena música, de calidad, estamos presentes, aún en intérpretes clásicos, donde el ritmo tanguero los encantó y supieron volcar talento en piezas inolvidables que hoy podemos disfrutar en sus elevados y variados estilos. También hay un Tango nuevo, interpretado por jóvenes inspirados, talentosos y creativos, que recrean nuestra música de manera excelsa y con maestría. Nos deleitan con viejas y nuevas piezas que son una delicia para nuestros oídos, renuevan corazones y se hacen presentes para que el Tango jamás pierda vigencia y sigamos oyendo sonar este 2X4 porteño, que embriaga multitudes más allá del idioma o el lugar donde se hagan vibrar los instrumentos, acompañados de voces cargadas de fuerza y nostalgia, que nunca dejarán de oírse, desde un concierto a toda orquesta, hasta un cuarteto de cuerdas. Tango Sensei se renueva y en dos programas, muestra su intención de acercarle a nuestros seguidores, los más destacados intérpretes de este Tango nuevo que guarda el sabor de sus comienzos y la permanencia de aquello que suena eterno.

El Tango ya cumplió más de un siglo, los pioneros de nuestra música nos dejaron hermosas composiciones con sonidos recordables y fina poesía a raudales, suficiente como para que nuestra música rioplatense, perdure más allá de las centurias. Durante todo este tiempo, exportamos tangos a los rincones más recónditos del mundo, ahí donde se oye buena música, de calidad, estamos presentes, aún en intérpretes clásicos, donde el ritmo tanguero los encantó y supieron volcar talento en piezas inolvidables que hoy podemos disfrutar en sus elevados y variados estilos. También hay un Tango nuevo, interpretado por jóvenes inspirados, talentosos y creativos, que recrean nuestra música de manera excelsa y con maestría. Nos deleitan con viejas y nuevas piezas que son una delicia para nuestros oídos, renuevan corazones y se hacen presentes para que el Tango jamás pierda vigencia y sigamos oyendo sonar este 2X4 porteño, que embriaga multitudes más allá del idioma o el lugar donde se hagan vibrar los instrumentos, acompañados de voces cargadas de fuerza y nostalgia, que nunca dejarán de oírse, desde un concierto a toda orquesta, hasta un cuarteto de cuerdas. Tango Sensei se renueva y en dos programas, muestra su intención de acercarle a nuestros seguidores, los más destacados intérpretes de este Tango nuevo que guarda el sabor de sus comienzos y la permanencia de aquello que suena eterno.

Jesse Hale with Shinobi Tree joins us as our guest. Jesse is a hobbyist furniture maker, designer, and a pivotal part of the Hyperion Project. Jesse details his journey from 2X4 projects to his outstanding studio quality furniture. We also delve into his contribution to Pepe Lima's Hyperion Project. Check it out!Jesse Hale:@shinobi_tree on Instagram@hyperion_project2023 on InstagramWWing News: Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Events are back- 1st at LAPWoodpecker's Dado NutCMT Dado Blade - EU CompliantHarvey - Table Saw Big Eye Rip Fence SystemMWA Podcast - Patreon Page@mwa_podcast on Instagram

Jesus hardly ever helped people the same way. The post Disciplined with a 2X4 appeared first on Key Life. To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.oneplace.com/donate/1543/29

Former pro football player and public servant, Marty Amsler has died at the age of 81... The Indiana General Assembly convened this morning in Indianapolis to take up school children's issues among others... A man who regretted selling an SUV is arrested after he worked the car over with a 2X4...See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jagbags welcomes Val Kyriakopoulos back to the podcast for an ESSENTIAL DISCUSSION of all things heavy metal. We talk our favorite heavy metal bands and albums, and present our curated 45-minute Table Busting Playlists. We also talk about what got us into heavy metal initially, and how the music has changed over the years. We also talk speed metal, thrash, doom metal (riffs), and jazz metal (to Len's chagrin). Get ready to turn it up ear-bleeding levels and prepare your 2X4 to smash everything in sight!

From Army Ranger medic to Builder of Tactical gear. A barreled action duct taped to a 2X4! Good times!

There are very few professional wrestlers who have found a simple gimmick that works with the public and stick with it. “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan has done that as successful as anyone for decades. His wrestling gimmick is simple and memorable. It consists of carrying his 2X4 to the ring, raising his thumb and yelling “Hooooo!” and fans loved it. Particularly when the patriotic character followed up with a chant “USA! USA! USA! USA!”

Jason got smacked in the face with a 2X4 driving down the street some buisnesses are using the same location as different identities on delievery apps. Also we had a few Hops Roulette.

In last week's episode I spoke about a concept that I dig into today - the difference between between detached … and unattached. Yes, I hear you. “Come on, Cathy. They're not that different those words.” Perhaps not in literal meaning, but for this gal, the way they land is much different. The latter is about staying present, connected and committed - even in the face of difference. The former is about an attitudinal f*ck you. In today's episode I share the journey of my last few weeks, the big ah ha and how being smacked in the head with a 2X4 sometimes is just what the doctor ordered. What does leadership actually mean in today's world? Good questions, right? That's what Cathy Brooks, thought. And it's why she created Talk, Unleashed – a new podcast of entirely candid conversations with fascinating people doing remarkable things. This weekly podcast features guests from arts and entertainment to business to technology to food to activism to politics (well, we'll see on that last one). Talk Unleashed invites these influencers to consider the things that have led to them to where they are, the lessons they've learned and how all those things can come together to create a better world. This podcast compliments Unleashed Leadership, the coaching business through which Cathy helps clients unearth and untether their own internal leadership and connect with others in a way that truly engages. Recently Cathy joined Paris-based start-up OpenBubble as Co-Founder and Chief Communications Officer. OpenBubble's mission is to break through issues of isolation and separation in society by creating a powerful way for people to connect and talk – with no agenda. #leadership #responsibility #standingassource #detachedversusunattached #grounded #OpenBubble #Conversation #connection #TalkUnleashed #UnleashedConversation #UnleashedLeadership #FixYourEndofTheLeash

Ashley is back from vacation and talks to Jordan Lenz of 2X4's for Hope about their upcoming fundraiser this Saturday. Bob Gough talks to Randy Phillips about bringing the Stinson Summit to Quincy Regional Airport, also this weekend.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT HEARING A STORY THAT HAS A DONKEY, A 2X4, A KIA SOUL, A BUMPER STICKER AND A BOATLOAD OF QUESTIONS?

Jesus hardly ever helped people the same way. The post Disciplined with a 2X4 appeared first on Key Life.

Programón con un notón al ritmo del 2X4 al gran Raúl Lavié y una charla a puro fútbol con Fernando Lavecchia de T&C.

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas (Performed Upon a 2X4)

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas (Performed Upon a 2X4)

Don't screw around. Download this episode RIGHT NOW. Then prepare to flip tables and take a 2X4 to every window in sight -- because we're talking the music of the legendary rock outfit Thin Lizzy. We take you through all the albums, and also construct a 45-minute playlist of the band's top jams. (OKen's playlist was called "Ultimate Tin Lizzy") We take you through ALL the "go to IKEA, buy all the furniture, take a break to assemble it all, and then smash them" jams. Riffs we should ALL wake up to! How did Thin Lizzy not have #1 hits in every country for 26 weeks?!?? TUNE IN AND YOUR LIFE WILL GET BETTER INSTANTLY!!

Digital sales are about leveraging yourself, your service, your products, and the available digital platforms to build relationships. Social selling is where you get to socialize, connect, and have conversations. Liz Wendling emphasizes that social channels are connected to real people in the real world having real conversations. You have to humanize the connection so they feel you're there to help. One of the ways Liz connects with potential clients is through her “Verbal 2x4.” Listen to this episode of Sales Reinvented to learn more about her social selling strategy! Outline of This Episode [1:21] The difference between digital and social selling [2:27] How to improve your social selling skills [3:36] How to use Liz's “verbal 2x4” [4:48] The characteristics of a great digital seller [5:55] Stop apologizing and stop being self-serving [7:41] Top three digital selling dos and don'ts [10:11] Liz's verbal 2X4 put into practice How to improve your social selling skills Liz sees room for improvement in both empathy and understanding as well as flexibility and advocacy. Selling isn't about pushing your products but listening to your potential customers to understand what they need. Only then can you solve their problems. You also have to be flexible with the changing marketplace. Potential clients want to work hand-in-hand with someone who wants to help and believes they can do so.  Liz's strategy is perfect because it works for her. She makes sure her message hits someone with a “verbal 2x4.” She wants to get their attention to move them toward a conversation. What can you do to get someone's attention? What can you do that lands with an impact? The characteristics of a great social seller Authenticity, flexibility, and dedication are necessary attributes for any seller. Liz emphasizes you must be flexible in your process, authentic in your approach, and dedicated to follow-up and follow-through. You have to be able to have conversations (and resurrect the dead ones). Many people give up on themselves far too early in the process and blame it on the customer because “they don't know what they want.” Be flexible and shift the message or conversation to re-engage potential clients.  Stop apologizing, stop being self-serving, and start serving Liz implores salespeople to stop apologizing and being self-serving with messages. What does that mean? Liz gets far too many messages saying, “I'm so sorry to bother you…” or “I know you're busy, so I'll be brief.” It not only puts the salesperson in the less-than position but does nothing to build confidence in the person you're reaching out to. Get rid of apology language. Secondly, don't make it all about you. Make it all about your customer. Don't say things like, “I'd love to get on your calendar” or “I'd love 30 minutes of your time.” You're telling someone what YOU want instead of inviting them into a conversation that they want to be a part of.  What are Liz's top three digital selling dos and don'ts? Listen to learn more! Liz's verbal 2X4 put into practice Liz teaches her clients to prospect on LinkedIn with a “verbal 2x4.” Liz focuses on the pain, problem, challenge, issue, or dilemma that her target market is muddling through. One area she focuses on with her consulting practice is family law attorneys. They're spending a fortune to get leads. But they often fall short in sales conversations and conversions—so they're losing a lot of money.  Liz's message hits home: “Many of the firms I work with are struggling with this, they're spending a fortune on that, but here's what the end result is.” Then she'll ask for a conversation. They often respond with, “Are you a fly on the wall? How do you know this?”  They think their attorneys are bad at closing, not fully realizing that they're actually bad at opening. Instead of her pushing for a conversation, they're the ones asking to get on her calendar. The outcome is always a great conversation. If you have a message that lessens the noise, you can have real honest conversations from an authentic place.  Connect with Liz Wendling Connect on LinkedIn Follow on Twitter Connect With Paul Watts  LinkedIn Twitter  Subscribe to SALES REINVENTED Audio Production and Show notes by PODCAST FAST TRACK https://www.podcastfasttrack.com

Jay takes you back to Jimmy Carter days breifly while introducing you to inflation. Why is this happening now? Did Covid have anything to do with it? Did you know the cost of a 2X4 is up 300%? Jay will show you a way out of the direct Washington attack.

Thanks for joining us…as farmers take to the fields they're learning that world crop supply and demand for those crops will be up this year. If it plays outright, and there are many weather and water variables, it could be a good year.And speaking of supply and demand, have you tried buying 2X4s or plywood lately. Supply and demand are at play there too…as our P And E members found out:Logging operations move at a swift pace on Canary Creek just outside of Cataldo, Idaho. The nation's building supplies are scarce and expensive and that's stepped up logging in North Idaho.“There's just a huge demand for lumber.” That's Reid Ahlf with the Idaho Forest Group. He gave theIdaho Farm Bureau's Promotion and Education Committee a tour of the logging operation, so members could see first hand the lumber supply and demand issue.“Last 10 years very few homes were built. According to the latest Housing report so far this year, 1.7 million housing starts, that's a 30.2% increase over last year. Cost of 2X4's and plywood are skyrocketing to record high if you can find them,” added Ahlf.“Then all of sudden there's this huge demand for lumber, and we can't make it fast enough,” said Ahlf.Promotion and Education Members see first hand what's happening in the lumber market, and they're learning new logging techniques that are fast and efficient, P and E Chair Alan Clark:“It's exciting to see all the big equipment. Just like agriculture, there's so much that goes into producing a 2X4 that's in the store. We see that they're in there, we can go and pick them up whenever we want but these men and women out here working, provide that lumber for us, the infrastructure and the manpower it takes to produce the lumber, Its just amazing to be out here on the mountain and see the process,” said Clark.That's it for this podcast…thanks for listening…I'm Jake Putnam…

#191 - Returnal / Chasm / TMNT: Arcade Attack / Poutine congelée Dans ce 191e épisode, on discute d'une tonne de choses! Bruno s'en va dans l'espace pour se faire massacrer par des martiens puis en redemande dans Returnal. Dom manie l'épée à merveille et explore des cavernes hostiles peuplées de goblins verts dans Chasm. Fred aka Leonardo troque le katana par un 2X4 pour frapper des ninjas mal foutus dans TMNT: Arcade Attack. On parle également des vieux clubs vidéo, le futur de Nintendo, Xcloud, les mangas, les jeux de table, la poutine congelée, et plein d'autres sujets grace à vos excellentes questions! Tout ça et bien plus! Bonne écoute!

#191 - Returnal / Chasm / TMNT: Arcade Attack / Poutine congelée Dans ce 191e épisode, on discute d'une tonne de choses! Bruno s'en va dans l'espace pour se faire massacrer par des martiens puis en redemande dans Returnal. Dom manie l'épée à merveille et explore des cavernes hostiles peuplées de goblins verts dans Chasm. Fred aka Leonardo troque le katana par un 2X4 pour frapper des ninjas mal foutus dans TMNT: Arcade Attack. On parle également des vieux clubs vidéo, le futur de Nintendo, Xcloud, les mangas, les jeux de table, la poutine congelée, et plein d'autres sujets grace à vos excellentes questions! Tout ça et bien plus! Bonne écoute!

A minor technical glitch at the start of the show, 2 mins and then we get back to normal. Must be Manny with way too much on his plate these days. We discuss the rising costs of material, from lumber to metals, to everything is seeing increases and we begin with the why. We begin the show with stats on how high lumber prices have gone from the 80’s to as recent as 2020 and how the USA is Canada’s #1 customer followed by China as #2 and that leaves next to nothing for the Canadian industry. Canada is a world leader when it comes to softwood and our government officials made deals to give it all away and that is the real reason why we are now paying for an $8 2X4. Time for a RENOLUTION!!! At the beginning of 2020 Jim and Dan of Caruk Hall decided to downsize after they invested into a new office space and they even had to let a few people go and consider where things were heading and Jim feels it will not be “normal” until 2022. As contractors we have to anticipate where the markets are heading and consider standing your ground with your labour rates but you also have to consider reducing your profit points, maybe lower 1 or 2 even 4 points that way we can still get the job and everyone has work. We end today’s show on an interesting question, more of a four/five part question…how would you describe the perfect client and how would you describe a bad client? How would you describe a good or bad GC and what is your threshold for staying or walking away from the scope? Thank you to everyone for adding their comments and two cents for this show. @mas_araz @kyle1302 @jordanvers @versahomes @IamYodaOk @kb007 @nestorbarsllc @longjonggingers @homestarroofing @rahulderrodra @cluelessframer @viawoodworking @blucontractors @captainlirp @gibsoncarpentryinc @marleausactionmaintenance @dkmay87 @lewiswoodworking @yo.prmn @nickelgeneral @greekbuilder @blders.ca @tilebychristoppher @integrabell @e6analytics @upperlevelfinishes @b.curriecontracting @thejakedekker @electricallocal69 @ryanmatthews411 @lonewolfdrywall @ryanaberin @rjhattonrenovations @tonygdcontracting @mackconstructionsinc @fortunatos @cullenmch @stonesthrowconstruction @brydonperryconsinc @matthewvincentbg @khan.kharpentry @ksinteriorllc @binsplusdisposalsolutions @blackbroncoconstruction @nickoulton @northridgecorp @catarquiconstruction @renosbybill @cafecoccoalatte @mselyan @sever_homes @carpenteronsite @joemconstruction @baruchbuilderscorp @joefraschini @vanhoornscustom @ritewayconstruction @mikemooresold @macneilconstruction @gonellhomes @philbarbosa30 @hardworkcanada @righteouscontracting @sidde @rahulderodra @khan.kharpentry @nwoplumber @cascoagency @sheetmetalsteve @vivhosking @franksflooring @kylescustomwoodworks @tacobelli14 @jpstile @daytonhardwoodco To all of our listeners, old and new, thanks for all the support, the kind words, the emails and messages about our little podcast. The word is spreading, tell your friends, family, subtrades, suppliers, tell everyone and anyone about The Construction Life. Want a sticker, contact Manny at info@theconstructionlife.com or info@hardcorerenos.com or DM Manny @hardcorerenos He will mail you a sticker free of charge anywhere in the world. Don’t forget to find Jim @jimcaruk @carukhallconstruction www.carukhall.com info@carukhall.com 416 546-8602. Lastly, find Manny @hardcorerenos www.hardcorerenos.com and info@hardcorerenos.com 416 433-5737This is The Construction Lifewww.theconstructionlife.com

Today, I'm delighted to invite you to my virtual kitchen table for a chat! I grew up discussing the Cardinal issues of life with my family around the kitchen table—and I continue to do so.  I've considered launching this podcast for the past 2 years. So why now? Perhaps it's because of our collective experience of COVID-19—a tragic and traumatizing situation that has refined our focus on what truly matters in life. The global pandemic is the cosmic 2X4 to the head that has awakened us to what matters most—the things of Cardinal importance. So, let's take advantage of this wake up call. Let's choose to muse about what truly matters instead of obsessing on the minutia of life. Curious as to the topics of conversation? Rest assured, the overarching themes of aging, caregiving, and the end of life present a myriad of concerns for musing. What does it mean to age well? How do we answer the call to care for family and friends? Why is change so hard? How can we become more resilient? Why are we scared to death of death? How do we grieve? Who are we called to be? What are we called to do? How does faith shape our experience of life and death? These are just a few of the questions we'll consider as we muse about the Cardinal issues of life around our virtual kitchen table. So, pour a cup of coffee. Settle into your favorite chair. Take a deep breath. It's time to chat! 

SYNERGY is a common term used in self-defense and Life Defense. Basically SYNERGY becomes available as soon as we stop fighting and start using the potential, great multiplier. Every time we work together in any fashion with something, or someone else, we have potential SYNERGY. Described in self-defense it might look like an attacker pushing a smaller defender, when at the last moment the defender SYNERGIZES motion with the much larger, stronger attacker and the attacker in essence stumbles on by. Perhaps the attacker then decides to laugh at themselves and they both go on their way chuckling about the situation… Think of all that potential power… In the world of Life Defense we might consider all energy a gift just waiting to be unwrapped like a box of chocolates. Think about it…even an attacker has a gift for us. Recognizing this “gift” might be all that is needed. In fact, ultimate SYNERGY could be the solution to many of the world's problems. In fact with SYNERGY all around us, why wouldn't it be the solution to all the world's problems? Did you know two oxen pull more weight together than each can pull alone? Also, 2 2X4 boards together are stronger than each separately. SYNERGY! What if you could look at any person, situation or even conflict and see a multiple of potential power. Why wouldn't you SYNERGIZE? Allen Hughes Life Defense #allenhughes #lifedefense #synergy --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/allen-hughes/message

Do you allow Ryan Pace full autonomy over the draft and future picks? The Hawks are no joke, but we still do the Blackhawks minute. Randy Johnson bag of fastballs vs Meller with a 2X4 - who do you got?

Recorded show this week where I dive into the Rockin 101 interview archives and pull out WWE Hall of Famer Hacksaw Jim Duggan and the greatest WWF Intercontinental Champion of all time The Honky Tonk Man.Merch - https://teespring.com/stores/official-izzy-presley-storeRetro Jersey TShirt only $20 (XXL $25)Shirt + Roadie Pack (Lighter/Flask/Dog Tag/Tumbler) + Signed Photo - $70 (XXL $75)Shirt + Roadie Pack +Signed Photo + Zoom/Skype Call - $100 (XXL $105)Complete Podcast Package:Shirt + Roadie Pack +Signed Photo + Drunken Summit Appearance - $200 (XXL $205)All prices include shipping in the continental USA (EXCLUDING EBAY SHIRT PURCHASES) . Payments via Paypal paypal.me/izzypresleyShow DonationsPaypal - paypal.me/izzypresleyVenmo - @realizzypresley CashApp - $izzypresley