Podcasts about caress

In late 1975, Rush were feeling confident. Their previous album Fly By Night had taken a step forward from their eponymous debut and new drummer Neil Peart had not only set a new standard for drumming but was ready to become the band's lyricist thanks to his voracious appetite for reading. Thanks to Neil, the lyrics could become more introspective while also walking into a fantastic fantasy world of conquering heroes and their journies. But not everything they did was relatable for the average teenage rock fan. Bastille Day, a triumphant rocker that opens the album, harkens back to the French Revolution. I Think I'm Going Bald was a bit of an inside joke but was truly a song about growing up and growing older. While the nostalgic Lakeside Park recalled times from Neil's youth, it was a mellow tune about innocence vs. experience. However the epic Necromancer, a nod to Neil's JRR Tolkien worship, and The Fountain of Lamneth were 12 and 20 minute suites of music more suited to the likes of 70s Yes or Genesis than the Led Zeppelin's of the world who Rush seemed to be more like on their first two outings. While these long, proggy songs are to be admired for their musicianship and the boys maturity at around 22 years old to be able to write and play mature stories, it falls short of what they would achieve on their next record, 2112. Sales, radio play and concert turnouts were so bad that the record company demanded the next album feature more radio friendly material or they'd be dropped. While Rush stuck to their guns and made 2112 their own way, which led them to their greatest success to that point and put them on their own path, Caress of Steel is a bit of an outlier beloved by very few in the #RushFamily. As it turns 50, we finally give it our track x track review. Check out our new website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Ugly American Werewolf in London Website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LInkTree⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.pantheonpodcasts.com⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Geoff and Marie's Good Life: Part 13Appetites Vary.Diversity is a good thing.Based on posts by Only In My Mind, in 15 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.I guided my friend through to join the women and helped him to the head of the table. Megan sat to his right, Lucy to his left. I sat opposite him, Marie to my right, Angie to my left. Rather than a traditional Sunday roast, Megan had ordered a beef wellington with horseradish mashed potatoes, and green vegetables sautéed in garlic butter. The ladies were at ease in their near nudity; Angie having, just about, covered her bare tits with some pointless scrap of translucent fabric.The men, well, we did them the courtesy of admiring them. The conversation was surprisingly normal, by our standards at least. Lucy expressed her gratitude at being offered a place to stay. She was a little overwhelmed when Megan corrected her. Not a place to stay; a home.I shared the photo that Mike had sent me, showing Eddie with his new friend. "He rejected Lucy for HER?" Was Charles' incredulous response. Lucy was more sanguine. As far as she was concerned, Eddie had made his preference clear. In her mind she was already single, with an entire team of people willing to love her and a wealth of emotions that she needed to set out on canvas. That thought also reminded her. The day we christened her studio, she was determined to make a mold of my genitalia, while I was erect."How many castings are you intending to make?" I asked, in all innocence."A dozen or so in latex or silicone rubber for your Harem, or the Coven as Marie refers to us." I shrugged. That seemed a lot but, what the hell.She fell silent for a moment, as though calculating. "And then I thought, because it's such a nice shape, I'd do a limited edition of signed epoxy castings, about a hundred, each numbered and with its own unique marbled pattern."Everyone stopped eating and stared at her. "What?" She seemed defensive. "He only has to make a squiggle. Not his actual name, for pity's sake." She shook her head. "I was going to ask him if I could add a drop of his semen into the epoxy to infuse it with his essence. I could double the asking price then." She looked around the table at each of us in turn. "Well, think about it, anyway," she suggested to my wife and I.We changed the subject to our plans for the wedding and returned to enjoying our meal. For dessert there were individual warm pear frangipanes with brandy ice cream. By the time we had finished, not a morsel was left.We helped to tidy the kitchen and, after sitting and chatting for a little while longer, my three companions dressed and we left, making a short diversion to return the restaurant's delivery boxes. I picked up their home delivery menu on the way out. I was mortified; our meal must have cost our hosts over three hundred pounds. My 'expensive' wine from M and S seemed a bit pathetic by comparison.As we drove home, they discussed, without inviting input from me, my plans for the evening. Apparently, while I pleasured each of them individually in my bed, the other two would discuss the details of our wedding ceremony. We hadn't decided on a date but we needed to have the costumes selected very soon so that we could give the students who were making the outfits the design brief for each guest for their course-work. Lucy was intrigued at the idea of creating some scenic backdrops for the venue as well as helping with prop design. I was content to be well out of it.I'd swallowed one of my little chemical helpers as soon as we got home so, leaving my wife and Lucy to look on-line for inspiration, Angie joined me in bed. "Angie. I promised you a special treat if you earned it. You've earned it today, with Charles. But tonight would you be disappointed if we just made love? No toys, just you and me? Then we can find enough time to really explore your kinky side.""It's a deal," she agreed, unbuttoning my shirt. "You, me and the toy box can wait for another day. I'm okay if it's just the two of us for now."I helped off with her top and we kissed for a while, me savoring the feel of her lace covered tits against my chest. In time, we wanted more so we finished undressing ourselves and I led her to the bed. She sat me at the edge and knelt between my thighs. "I'm doing this because I want to," she reassured me. To be fair, I intended to return the favor, because I also wanted to. Isn't it nice that we have balance in our lives.Angie's oral ministrations were affectionate rather than porn-worthy, intended to show her love rather than display her ability to swallow my entire cock. When she finally took me over the edge, there were no theatrics; no swirling my cum in her mouth. She just quietly swallowed my sperm, cleaned me and looked lovingly up at me. Angie is a complex character. Strong, assertive, willful even. But behind that was a vulnerability, an uncertainty in social interactions. But with Marie and I, she relaxed totally.Pulling her to her feet I made her swap places and I knelt in turn, between her thighs. I repeated her own words to her before I leaned in to taste the nectar between those lips. For ten full minutes I knelt there, kissing her thighs, her mound; running my tongue along her labia and, briefly now and again, tantalizing her clit.As soon as I felt myself harden again, I knew it was time. I stood up and stretched (I'm fairly fit, but the years, and rugby, have taken their toll) then joined her on the bed. We made ourselves comfortable, Angie having decided she wanted 'snuggling' from behind. I indulged her. It isn't the best position for vigorous sex. It isn't the most visually stimulating; but, for screwing someone you love, it has a special languorous intimacy that I cherish. There was no rush for us to climax. My cock was perfectly content to slip slowly back and forth in Angie's slick tunnel.I realized that I was getting close and started to use my hand on her clit. She stopped me. "Take your time, Geoff," she murmured. "I've come once already. This is nice as it is. You need to learn that sometimes we need the intimacy as much as the orgasm."I think I understood. So, instead of our customary race to the finishing line, we kept a slow, tender rhythm until I couldn't hold back any longer and spurted inside her. "See," she murmured. "Wasn't that nice. You came and I could just enjoy the experience without arsing about having to fake an orgasm. This was much more satisfying."We lay for another ten minutes, just talking, before Angie left for the bathroom. I got up and used the shared bathroom then, wearing just my dressing gown, went downstairs. Marie and Lucy were studying our TV, where Marie was casting the images of Star Wars costumes that people had shown an interest in for our wedding. Lucy was trying to decide what outfit appealed to her.I gave Marie a pointed look to suggest the it was her turn upstairs. She shook her head. "Angela is going home tonight and Lucy tells me we're dropping her off at her place. I'm happy to wait until bed-time."Lucy smiled and shook her head too. "If you want me, I'm yours. But I'm content that I've had my ration for today. Tuesday, however, Marie will be at the shop. Would that be a convenient time for you to model for me?"'Model': Now there was an innocent enough expression; slightly less so if you prefixed it with the word, 'penis', for accuracy. Presumably, once the casting was done, my erection wouldn't be allowed to go to waste. So, two birds, one stone; cock casting and studio christening all in one visit. Mr. Efficiency, that's me.I dressed and made us a light supper and we ate once Angie re-joined us. At nine o'clock we left our planning session, having given Lucy some ideas to work with, and I drove her home. Angela and Marie followed us. We shared a bottle of wine, Angie sticking to the one glass, while Lucy showed us the unfinished works in her studio. She pointed to a stack of half a dozen propped against a wall. "I can't finish those," she commented in a flat tone. "I started them while Eddie was pissing me about, but my outlook has changed since, well, you know, and I'm in such a different place now that I don't know where the next brush stroke goes." She picked one up and examined it critically. "This isn't art," she decided. "This is an emotional breakdown on canvas." She made to throw it away. I stopped her. She looked at me in surprise."It's an asset," I reminded her. "If Eddie gets a solicitor and he bids for a share of your works, give him these.""But they aren't finished," she protested."Would Eddie know that?""No, but;”"So," I pointed out, gently. "Keep them. If Eddie plays silly buggers and demands a share of your work as marital assets, you can honestly say these were painted while you were together, the judge would be impressed and you unload these on Eddie.""But they are shit," she argued."And where would Eddie go to unload this shit?"Her eyes widened. "The gallery in town," she gloated. "If Eddie tried to sell them there, Carl, the owner, would check with me for the provenance. I'd tell him the truth and he'd sell them off cheap as unsigned, unfinished, unattributed works; he'd have to. Both to keep me sweet and keep his reputation." The three women exchanged malicious smiles. "I almost hope he tries it," she added. "I'd love to put one over on him one last time."We stayed with her until ten, when she declared that it was time for us to get away and for her to go to bed. Eddie was, fortunately for all of us, still notable by his absence. We left, agreeing to return before eleven the next morning, and Angie dropped Marie and me off on her way home. The two of us followed Lucy's example and went straight to bed.As we cuddled up close, we each asked the other, almost in unison, "Are we still okay?" The fact that we were both concerned more about our spouse's feelings than our own, suggested that we were. Then my wife slipped her nightie off and lay back down next to me. What followed convinced me that we were fine.The next morning, Angie collected us after breakfast and we arrived at Lucy's house about quarter to eleven. By then, the two guys in the van had moved most of the boxes with her clothes out of her bedroom and were starting to empty her studio. They refused our offer of help so we made them a cup of tea and retired to the kitchen out of their way. We were still there twenty minutes later when Megan arrived.Accepting a coffee from Lucy, Megan produced two brown, official looking, envelopes from her bag. They were both addressed to Eddie. The first one she held up had a large figure '1' in the top left corner. "This," she explained. "Is Eddie's formal notice that you have begun divorce proceedings and letting him know that, to comply with the legal requirements, you are now living apart, effective from midnight tonight."She turned her attention to me. "I liked your suggestion that Lucy keeps those depressing unsigned works to hand. We have included our proposals for the fair division of assets and advised Eddie to seek his own legal advice. If he gets greedy, we will have to try to agree a compromise or go to court for a Financial Order. In either of those cases, those works could come in useful."She held up the second envelope, appropriately enough with a figure '2' in the corner. This document," she announced, cheerfully. "Informs your soon-to-be ex-husband that you are waiving your right to occupy, granted by the trust set up for Alison. Your daughter, the de-facto owner, has retained me to act on her behalf to put it on the rental market."She gave a beatific smile that lit up the room. "As Lucy occupied under the terms of the trust, there is no tenancy agreement. Eddie's name appears on none of the utilities so, as far as Alison is concerned, he can pay the commercial rental fee, and stay, or piss off and live with his girlfriend. He certainly hasn't a leg to stand on if he thinks she'll let him live here for free, now that Lucy has moved out.""What will you be asking for the rent?" I asked, just out of interest. She told us. The rest of us sat, slack-jawed, gaping around the table at each other. "How much?" I admit, my voice came out in a less than masculine squeak. She repeated the figure. "That's more than the fucking mortgage would be," I pointed out, then begged Megan to excuse my language."True," Megan conceded, unperturbed by my profanity. "But a landlord has to cover additional contingencies; electrical safety, insurance, maintenance, management fees and the like." She shrugged. "We are actually not stiffing Eddie. If he can't afford to pay, I guarantee we'll have a family in here paying that per month, within three weeks of taking possession.""Eddie can't afford that," Lucy observed, without satisfaction. "Even if he stopped drinking and gambling, he'd barely be able to cover the rent. He'd just about have pennies left to live on.""That's as may be," Megan replied, acerbically. "But much of my professional life has been spent dealing with people who ignored the consequences of their actions." She listed some examples on her fingers. "Drunk drivers, offspring contesting their parents' wills after years of ignoring them, vandals, shoplifters, idiots who thought it was okay to defraud insurance companies and, yes, cheating spouses." She shook her head in despair. "Nobody made them act that way; they made choices, just like Eddie. He could have managed his money instead of blowing it on booze and horses. He could have treated his wife with respect. He did neither; he made his choice, so he gets to own whatever that brings."We were contemplating her words when one of the movers knocked on the kitchen door and announced that they were finished. He suggested that Lucy go through each room before they left, to confirm that the guys had collected everything that she wanted taken. It was a somber moment as we five checked each room in turn."Is there anything of yours in the garage?" I enquired, remembering that Lucy sometimes sculpted in metal.She smiled and shook her head. "I moved my welding gear to Megan's last week. They had room in their garage and I knew that Eddie would never notice that it was gone." She took one more slow look around the living room. "No. That's it. This is Alison's house now. I've lost two husbands here. I won't say that the wrong one died; but I'm close. Fuck it. Let's go."We followed her out and watched as she locked up and gave her keys to Megan. We stood and waved as the two of them got into their cars to follow the van to Lucy's new home. I think we all realized that this day had been long coming, but even knowing that, we still knew that Lucy had to be hurting inside.We three went home. Lucy, Charles and Megan needed time together to reach some sort of accommodation about, well, Lucy's accommodation. Our presence wasn't required. We grabbed a light lunch and I turned the TV on. Dear God! There were adverts on already for Christmas. I turned to my wife to see if she found it as irritating as I did, only to pause at the thoughtful expression on her face."Angie," she said. Our fiancée looked up. "You like stately homes, don't you?" Angie agreed this was, in fact, the case. "Well how do you feel about a trip to Derbyshire?""Because?" Angie prompted."Because I think you'd love Chatsworth," Marie suggested. "And in November there's a Christmas market in the grounds and the house will be beautifully seasonally decorated." My wife turned her attention to me. "Geoffrey?""Sounds good to me," I agreed. "I'll book three tickets.""I'll book us somewhere to stay," Angie offered. "Somewhere nice."So that was agreed. Finishing our lunch, we decided that we ought to get some fresh air, so we went for a stroll together. Marie assumed her place holding my right hand and Angie holding my left. Without really intending to, our return path took us past the pub. We decided that, as we were obviously people of low moral standards, we might as well go in.Tony, the landlord knew us well enough; Marie and her friends are there every other Friday after all. We chatted as he pulled my pint and poured the girls' white wines. I remembered there was a function room upstairs and asked to see it. It didn't take long. It was just a large rectangular room. On the plus side, it had a small, raised stage at the far end and there was a bar near the door. On the other hand, it was a bit tired.Tony saw my expression. "I know," he acknowledged. "It desperately needs repainting, but since Covid, it's been a Catch22. We need new business but we don't have the cash to invest to attract it."I paced out the room and we went back to the lounge. "If the walls were just white," I suggested. "Then you could mount a projection system on the ceiling and have an almost infinite selection of décor for any occasion."My girls listened to our conversation with interest. Tony considered my idea. "So, instead of choosing a color scheme for the room, I just paint it plain white and project whatever the customer wants for their occasion," he mused."Exactly," I agreed. Gender reveals, weddings, kids' themed parties or Goth Halloweens; hit enter on the computer and the room's personalized.""Or Star Wars weddings," Angie contributed. "Nice thinking Geoff."I bowed, modestly. "Peter works in IT," I reminded the girls. "This isn't directly his field but he may know someone who could advise us." I turned back to our host. "Would you be interested if I could find out what an installation like that would entail?"Apparently, he would and, after discussing the practicalities of hosting our celebration there, we resumed our walk home in a rather more excited mood. We were still talking about the logistics when Colin arrived, with Mia in tow, and asked what we were arguing about. We'd moved onto the timing by then. Angie favored March but Marie was concerned that our student friends needed more time to design and create our growing collection of outfits. My wife thought a summer wedding would be nicer, possibly even outdoors. I was on the fence.Colin looked at us with a mixture of surprise and, it hurts me to admit this, disappointment. "Surely you know the date. There's only one day it can be." He looked sadly at our blank stares. "For goodness sake grandpeople. Star Wars Day! May the Fourth."I confess: I hung my head in shame. I glanced at Angie. She was shaking her head, muttering, "So damn obvious that a child could see it. What's wrong with me?"Marie was bemused. "What's going on? What do you mean; Star Wars Day? Is that a thing? Do people send cards?"Mia took pity on her in the face of Colin's despairing silence. "May the Fourth sounds like the Jedi blessing, you know, May the Force be with you," she explained patiently. "May the Fourth; May the Force."Marie 'got it' then. "So if there's one day in the year to do Jedi stuff, it's May the Fourth." She gave a deep sigh. "God! But nerds are weird." She looked fondly at Angie and me. "And I'm stuck with two of them."It was Marie's turn to cook and Colin asked if Mia could eat with us as her mum was working late. Of course, she was welcome and Angie volunteered to help in the kitchen. The two women left us, with Marie making very clear who was in charge as they went.That left me with the two teens. "Homework?" I asked."Did it at lunchtime," answered Colin."Me too," Mia added."Right then. Go amuse yourselves. You can have the TV if you want.""Well Grandad. The thing is; We were talking about 'The Talk', and we have some questions.""Oh you do, do you?" This wasn't quite how I'd visualized this going. "To be honest, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to have that particular discussion with Mia." I turned to address my comments directly to her. "Mia, sweetheart, this is a conversation that you should really be having with your mum. Even if it makes her too uncomfortable and there are no aunts or older female cousins to ask, it should still be a woman you talk to rather than me.""But why?" She asked."Because if anyone found that a man had been discussing sex with a young woman not related to him, they might think that he was grooming her. Can you imagine how being accused of that would change all of our lives?""I suppose so," she conceded."How about this?" I suggested. "You ask your mum the same questions that Colin has for me and you can compare notes. But," I put on my laboratory manager voice. "No personal research!" They nodded, grinning, and I told them to clear off: I'd deal with that problem later. I sloped off to read my book; I felt as though I'd not has a minute to myself in ages.Marie and Angie had excelled themselves. When Linda arrived, we sat down to a dish of roast Mediterranean vegetables served with potato wedges, fetta, pitta bread and smoked garlic mayonnaise. I hadn't heard a single cross word from the kitchen either. The kids demolished their meals and asked for second helpings. Marie made sure that there was some left for Wendy, who was coming to collect Mia on her way h

In late 1975, Rush were feeling confident. Their previous album Fly By Night had taken a step forward from their eponymous debut and new drummer Neil Peart had not only set a new standard for drumming but was ready to become the band's lyricist thanks to his voracious appetite for reading. Thanks to Neil, the lyrics could become more introspective while also walking into a fantastic fantasy world of conquering heroes and their journies. But not everything they did was relatable for the average teenage rock fan. Bastille Day, a triumphant rocker that opens the album, harkens back to the French Revolution. I Think I'm Going Bald was a bit of an inside joke but was truly a song about growing up and growing older. While the nostalgic Lakeside Park recalled times from Neil's youth, it was a mellow tune about innocence vs. experience. However the epic Necromancer, a nod to Neil's JRR Tolkien worship, and The Fountain of Lamneth were 12 and 20 minute suites of music more suited to the likes of 70s Yes or Genesis than the Led Zeppelin's of the world who Rush seemed to be more like on their first two outings. While these long, proggy songs are to be admired for their musicianship and the boys maturity at around 22 years old to be able to write and play mature stories, it falls short of what they would achieve on their next record, 2112. Sales, radio play and concert turnouts were so bad that the record company demanded the next album feature more radio friendly material or they'd be dropped. While Rush stuck to their guns and made 2112 their own way, which led them to their greatest success to that point and put them on their own path, Caress of Steel is a bit of an outlier beloved by very few in the #RushFamily. As it turns 50, we finally give it our track x track review. Check out our new website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Ugly American Werewolf in London Website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LInkTree⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.pantheonpodcasts.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We at The Wolf are excited to present our 250th episode of UAWIL and want to take a moment to thank all our loyal listeners & social media followers. Building this show and the community of fellow rock fans has been such a fun and sometimes magical adventure around the world these past 5 years. We want to express our sincere thanks for coming on the journey with us. Also, we like to do big guests on our 50th shows - Ryan Condal EP of House of the Dragon Ep 50, Nick Mason's Saucerful of Secrets live (after welcoming Gary Kemp and Guy Pratt on earlier to promote the show) Ep 100, Steve Kilbey of The Church Ep 150 and Steve Howe of Yes Ep 200. And we are proud to welcome one of rock music's most celebrated and contracted cover artists, Hugh Syme. Hugh is best known for his work with Rush over 50 years as their first collaboration, Caress of Steel, is 50 this year. We learned from Hugh first hand how his original piece of art was given the sepia tone at print which we all know and the songs which inspired the front and back covers. We hear about working with Neil Peart, Bob Ezrin, David Coverdale, Jimmy Page and the many models he immortalized with iconic album covers. Hugh is also an accomplished musician in his own right and talks about recording with Rush, working with former guest of UAWIL Jim McCarty of The Yardbirds and jamming with Aerosmith. We found Hugh to be soft spoken yet wryly funny as he related tales of living in London as a teenager, working as a musician in Toronto, and the 80s and 90s living in LA when it was the heart of the music business. And for you Rush fans, listen until the end as he announces he just submitted his artwork for an upcoming Rush anniversary reissue of one of our favorite 1980's Rush records. We had a delightful conversation with Hugh and we hope you enjoy it. Thanks again for all the support these 250 episodes - it means the world to us. Can we make it to 1,000??? Time will tell but if you keep listening and telling us what you want to hear about, we'll keep making them. Thank you all!! Check out our new website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Ugly American Werewolf in London Website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LInkTree⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.pantheonpodcasts.com⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We at The Wolf are excited to present our 250th episode of UAWIL and want to take a moment to thank all our loyal listeners & social media followers. Building this show and the community of fellow rock fans has been such a fun and sometimes magical adventure around the world these past 5 years. We want to express our sincere thanks for coming on the journey with us. Also, we like to do big guests on our 50th shows - Ryan Condal EP of House of the Dragon Ep 50, Nick Mason's Saucerful of Secrets live (after welcoming Gary Kemp and Guy Pratt on earlier to promote the show) Ep 100, Steve Kilbey of The Church Ep 150 and Steve Howe of Yes Ep 200. And we are proud to welcome one of rock music's most celebrated and contracted cover artists, Hugh Syme. Hugh is best known for his work with Rush over 50 years as their first collaboration, Caress of Steel, is 50 this year. We learned from Hugh first hand how his original piece of art was given the sepia tone at print which we all know and the songs which inspired the front and back covers. We hear about working with Neil Peart, Bob Ezrin, David Coverdale, Jimmy Page and the many models he immortalized with iconic album covers. Hugh is also an accomplished musician in his own right and talks about recording with Rush, working with former guest of UAWIL Jim McCarty of The Yardbirds and jamming with Aerosmith. We found Hugh to be soft spoken yet wryly funny as he related tales of living in London as a teenager, working as a musician in Toronto, and the 80s and 90s living in LA when it was the heart of the music business. And for you Rush fans, listen until the end as he announces he just submitted his artwork for an upcoming Rush anniversary reissue of one of our favorite 1980's Rush records. We had a delightful conversation with Hugh and we hope you enjoy it. Thanks again for all the support these 250 episodes - it means the world to us. Can we make it to 1,000??? Time will tell but if you keep listening and telling us what you want to hear about, we'll keep making them. Thank you all!! Check out our new website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Ugly American Werewolf in London Website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LInkTree⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.pantheonpodcasts.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Imagine the intense pleasure you could be enjoying right now by grabbing your copy of the Wylde Erotic App on the Apple Store, or downloading the very unofficial and unapproved Android version from WyldeInBed.com Are you ready to embark on a journey of intense passion and discovery?Dive into "Ash's Awakening," an erotic audio story that promises to captivate your senses and ignite your deepest desires. This tantalizing tale follows Ash, a woman who has endured years of single life and sensual frustration, only to uncover a new passion with a mysterious stranger.But as she becomes addicted to the pleasure, she is forced to ask herself: is it enough, or does she need more?Ash's Awakening is more than just a story; it's an experience. With sexy narration and an evocative erotic voice, this audio tale will draw you into Ash's world, making you feel every touch, every whisper, and every heartbeat.Meet AshAsh is a woman like many others—successful, independent, and in control of her life. But beneath her composed exterior lies a reservoir of unfulfilled desires and untapped passion. After years of single life, Ash finds herself yearning for something more, something that can awaken the sensual side of her that she's kept hidden for so long.The EncounterOne fateful evening, Ash crosses paths with a stranger who exudes a magnetic allure. Their eyes meet, and an unspoken connection ignites between them. The stranger's touch is electric, and Ash feels a rush of emotions and sensations that she has never experienced before. As their encounter unfolds, Ash discovers a new realm of pleasure that leaves her breathless and craving more.The AddictionWith each encounter, Ash becomes increasingly addicted to the pleasure she experiences with the stranger. The sexy narration of their passionate moments will have you on the edge of your seat, eagerly anticipating what comes next. The stranger's erotic voice is a symphony of seduction, drawing Ash deeper into a world of sensual exploration.The QuestionBut as Ash delves deeper into this newfound passion, she begins to question whether it's enough. The pleasure is intoxicating, but is it fulfilling? Does she need more than just physical satisfaction? Ash's journey is not only about discovering her sensuality but also about understanding her desires and what truly makes her feel complete.An Immersive Experience"Ash's Awakening" is designed to be an immersive experience that transports you into Ash's world. The erotic audio is crafted to stimulate your senses, making you feel every moment as if it were happening to you. The sexy narration and erotic voice of the storyteller will captivate your imagination, leaving you entranced and eager for more.Why "Ash's Awakening"?This story is perfect for anyone looking to explore their own fantasies and desires through the power of erotic audio. Whether you're seeking a brief escape from reality or a deeper connection with your own sensuality, "Ash's Awakening" offers an unforgettable experience that will leave you yearning for more.Take the PlungeAre you ready to join Ash on her journey of passion and self-discovery?Press play and let the seductive erotic voice guide you through a world of pleasure and desire. Experience the intensity of Ash's encounters and the emotional depth of her journey. "Ash's Awakening" is waiting for you—immerse yourself in the ultimate auditory experience and discover what lies beyond the pleasure.Don't miss out on this captivating tale of sensual awakening. Subscribe to our channel and let "Ash's Awakening" take you on a journey you'll never forget. Your next adventure in erotic audio awaits—press play and let the magic begin.

On episode 339 of the PC Update, a change of heart, or a blonde, leads Britt to make her move, and just like that Jason's dry spell is over!!! So long as Carly's in the dark, Brennan's heart will continue to beat. Michael was wrong... it wasn't just one cup of coffee. This episode covers GH episodes from August 18th - 22nd, 2025. *Music provided by Scott Holmes (song name - Electronic Vibes).

Ignite your senses and connect with your authentic self. Head over to tantricflame.com for "The Inner Flame Gateway," a complimentary meditation session that guides you towards your own source of deep, conscious pleasure.Join us for a deeply personal and incredibly sensual episode as Christie shares her groundbreaking experience with Conscious Sensuality. She embarks on a journey that challenges her preconceived notions of pleasure, leading her to an exhilarating and deeply satisfying discovery. Hear how Christie moved beyond the superficial to unearth a form of pleasure that resonated through her entire being – a true, holistic satisfaction she never knew was possible. Her story is one of liberation, sensation, and profound self-discovery. Curious to explore your own inner landscape of pleasure? Ignite your senses and connect with your authentic self. Head over to tantricflame.com for "The Inner Flame Gateway," a complimentary meditation session that guides you towards your own source of deep, conscious pleasure.

Chatter aplenty, irony, some random facts, Shit Quiz and a visit from Gordon Ramsey. Find our Patreon page HERE.Join the How 'Bout This Discord server to be part of the conversation.Spark Podcast Network.Executive Produced by Jason Geary, Karl McConnell and Rik Brown.Produced and Edited by Jason Geary.Music by THE Robbie Ellis. Check him out on Spotify here.  ★ Support this podcast on Patreon ★

This week's KEY RACES start with race eight at Saratoga, a very good race on the grass, and continue with three straight stakes races - the Caress, the CCA Oaks and the Alfred G. Vanderbilt Stakes, the latter two races both Grade 1s with exceptionally talented fields. 

Day three: Rush - Caress of Steel (1975) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Caress your Newborn take a deep breath because we're discussing Jean-Pierre Jeunet's divisive franchise entry Alien Resurrection (1997). Join us as we attempt to offer a reappraisal of this weird little film, which certainly has its flaws but also has so much going for it. Be it Sigourney Weaver's magnetic performance as Ripley 8 (you'll hear no "not my Ripley" cries from us) or the ooey gooey practical effects, we still like this one! Plus: Xenomorph nail polish, breathalyzer door locks, that underwater sequence, a monologuing Brad Dourif and the hazards of regularly eating lemon slices. Questions? Comments? Snark? Connect with the boys on BlueSky, Instagram, Youtube, Letterboxd, Facebook, or join the brand new Horror Queers Discord to get in touch with other listeners. > Trace: @tracedthurman > Joe: @joelipsett (BlueSky) / @bstolemyremote (Instagram)  Be sure to support the boys on Patreon!   Theme Music: Alexander Nakarada  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Sound Chaser Progressive Rock Podcast is on the air. Today's lesson is about the producers and engineers, those behind the sound desk, who make the musicians sound even better. To a large extent, these people have been as much contributors to the progressive rock sound as the musicians, so on this show and the next one, we will take a listen to the sound design aspects of the prog genre. Also, in here will be an In Memoriam sidebar for singer Neil Lockwood. All that, plus news of tours and releases on Sound Chaser. Playlist[Eddie Offord]1. Emerson, Lake & Palmer - The Barbarian, from Emerson, Lake & Palmer2. Yes - To Be Over, from Relayer3. Pallas - Ark of Infinity, from The Sentinel[Alan Parsons]4. Pink Floyd - Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast, from Atom Heart Mother5. Ambrosia - Make Us All Aware, from Ambrosia6. Ambrosia - Lover Arrive, from AmbrosiaIN MEMORIAM NEIL LOCKWOOD7. Alan Parsons - I Can't Look Down, from On AirEND IN MEMORIAM[Derek Varnals]8. The Moody Blues - In the Beginning, from On the Threshold of a Dream9. The Moody Blues - Lovely to See You, from On the Threshold of a Dream10. The Moody Blues - Dear Diary, from On the Threshold of a Dream11. The Moody Blues - Send Me No Wine, from On the Threshold of a Dream12. The Moody Blues - To Share Our Love, from On the Threshold of a Dream13. The Moody Blues - So Deep Within You, from On the Threshold of a Dream14. The Web - Blues for Two T's, from Theraphosi Blondi15. Justin Hayward - Doin' Time, from Songwriter[Tony Visconti]16. Strawbs - Flight, from From the Witchwood17. Caravan - Feelin' Alright, from Better By Far18. Gentle Giant - Wreck, from Acquiring the Taste[Dieter Dierks]19. Ash Ra Tempel - Day-Dream, from Starring Rosi20. Wind - Springwind, from Seasons21. Haze - Fast Career, from Hazecolor-Dia[Jan Erik Kongshaug]22. Terje Rypdal - Men of Mystery, from Descendre23. Bill Connors - Theme to the Guardian, from Theme to the Guardian24. Gateway - Soft, from In the Moment[Simon Heyworth]25. Gong - Perfect Mystery, from You26. Steve Hillage - Fish, from Fish Rising27. Steve Hillage - Meditation of the Snake, from Fish Rising28. Magma - Köhntarkösz Part One, from Köhntarkösz[Terry Brown]29. The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Bold as Love, from Axis: Bold as Love30. Rush - Bastille Day, from Caress of Steel31. Klaatu - We're Off You Know, from Hope[David Hentschel]32. Van der Graaf Generator - House With No Doors, from H to HE, Who Am the Only One33. Renaissance - Jekyll and Hyde, from Azure D'Or34. Genesis - Many Too Many, from ...And Then There Were Three[Brett William Kull]35. Chromatic Aberration - The Incidence of Memory, from The Trial of the King36. 3RDegree - You're Fooling Yourselves, from The Long Division37. Fractal Mirror - Tabula Rasa, from Close to Vapour

Lily Allen and Miquita Oliver answer your questions about things to do before you die.Next week, we want to hear your questions about KISSING. Please send us a voice note on WhatsApp: 08000 30 40 90. Or, if you like, send us an email: missme@bbc.co.uk.This episode contains very strong language, adult themes and discussions about cancer and death. If you have been affected by any of the issues raised, you can find support via the BBC Action Line: https://bbc.co.uk/actionline/ Credits: Producer: Flossie Barratt Technical Producer: Will Gibson Smith Production Coordinator: Hannah Bennett Executive Producers: Dino Sofos and Ellie Clifford Assistant Commissioner for BBC: Lorraine Okuefuna Commissioning Editor for BBC: Dylan Haskins Miss Me? is a Persephonica production for BBC Sounds

In the beginning, Rush, like many bands was trying to be The blank's Led Zeppelin. As we all know, that didn't work out. Instead, they simply became Rush. Join Nik, Duncan, and special guest Don de Leaumont, as they dig deeply into the very first Rush record. Check out Don's work: https://www.southeastofheaven.com/ Nik's vinyl sales: https://www.discogs.com/seller/battra13/profile Duncan's music: https://duncan-evans.bandcamp.com/

Caress has provided more than 2.5 million dollars to support and elevate founders in our communities. One of the alums of the Caress Dream Fund, Naibe Reynoso, is an Emmy award-winning journalist and founder of Con Todo Press, a bilingual children's book publishing company. Naibe shares how she applied her journalism skills to entrepreneurship, the realities of publishing, and how to find big money for your big idea. (Sponsored)To learn more go to caress.com and contodopress.com 

Of Funerals and Families; Part One In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Victory is neither pointless, fleeting, nor soon forgotten. It is yours.” I have been warned that my Uncle wants me dead. My Aunts want me for; other things." "What do they want?" E asked. It was the whole 'men as a true asset' problem for her. "The whole repository of nefariousness;” Pamela started to explain, but then, "Double Word Score!" Pamela and I exclaimed excitedly then 'high-fived'. Yes, you spiteful Cosmos, I had found my soul-mate and she was a near-octogenarian with a macabre sense of humor; who also had a telepathic ability to know my mind. E looked totally lost in the exchange. "Yes; the whole repository of nefariousness was created to be sterile," Pamela picked up the conversation. "Which makes the very existence of Cáel here very noteworthy; virtually inexplicable," she mused. "What have the labs at Havenstone think of this?" Rachel worried. "I refused to go back in for any more tests," I met her gaze. "But it could be important," E joined in. "I will make it easy on you both; I'm a horrible person. I'm the Head of House Ishara and I elect to not put my fate in the hands of the same people who leaked my very existence to the Illuminati during the first set of tests," I stated. "Which is why I'm here in Chicago burying my Father, in case any of you missed it." "Certainly knowing what is going on is more important than the risk of further exposure," E persisted. She got kudos for sticking to her guns. "Esmeralda, I work for Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services," I responded. "By that I mean I have this nifty little glass table in a corner of her office. Me stressing over my genetics isn't really important. Katrina is on the case and I haven't been out of college for two months yet. If the difference between Havenstone getting in a fight with the Illuminati and keeping the truce is my blood sample, she'll let me know," I added. "As far as Ishara is concerned, Havenstone had an information leak that got a house member killed." "Do you have other family?" E inquired hesitantly. "Blood kin? Not in this country and certainly not anyone I could name," I sighed. "I case you are wondering, there are a grand total of three members on Ishara's roster." "Is the rest of your family safe?" E was trying to sound upbeat. "Safe? Of course they are not safe. They both work for Executive Services, Esmeralda. They were 'Runners' who I inducted into Ishara. They are Amazons of the Host and that means never being safe this side of the cliffs. Friday morning I presented them to our ancestors and they were welcomed as equals; as sisters to those who have the blood of Mycenaeans on their hands," I turned to look out the window. "What was it like?" Tiger Lily inquired. "The induction." "If you are looking for a vision of a stone hall with thousands of war-like Amazons holding me in judgment, you'll be disappointed," I recalled. "I had to create the ceremony from scratch; ash, tears and blood. "I felt strong enough about that instinct I let Desiree slap me until I cried enough tears. With Desiree's knife, I cut myself, they cut themselves and our blood mixed," I finished. "That is not how it is done," Rachel corrected me. "No," I stopped. "It is not how you do it. House Ishara has come back from the void that waits for all those who are dead and have no one living to recall them," I explained. "We are not the other Houses. We are both Love and Oaths and there is a lack of respect for each of those virtues in this World." "I never considered Amazons as overly romantic, but we are true to our oaths," Esmeralda was starting to bask in the openness of the exchange. "I do not doubt the integrity of anyone in this vehicle, except for me," I gave her a weary grin. "The failure of oaths is mine. Ishara was bound by an Oath and has failed in her pledge. You are wrong about the romance and I am sure you have misunderstood my definition. I live for the day when no sons are sent to the cliffs as newborns; Love, Esmeralda. Love." The hush pressed upon us until Tiger Lily pulled up in front of the Hotel Burnham. Rachel, E, Charlotte (from the second GL) and I went in. I wave the others back as I went to the desk. Rachel and Charlotte had grey duffel bags with 'stuff' inside. E had my minimal kit. "Cáel Nyilas with Havenstone," I introduced myself. Yes, I was in 'prison' gear. "Director Nyilas; welcome to the Burnham," he recovered quickly. "Which rooms do you wish to use?" Thank you, Helena, no I'm a damn Director. He twisted the screen so I could see the list. Eleven doubles and a Lakeview Executive Suite with two adjoining Deluxe Suites. "We'll use those," I indicated the Executive/Deluxe/Deluxe. "Very good, Sir," he nodded. "Will you be ordering room service? I'm afraid the Atwood restaurant has closed for the evening." "Sounds like a plan," I looked at his name tag, "Steve, or do you prefer Mr. McCabe?" "Steve will do fine, Director;” Steve started. "I will make it easy on you Steve," I sighed. "Call me Cáel. All this Director crap is for the benefit of people I barely know. I am here, in my hometown, to bury my Father; who was murdered yesterday." Steve paled. "The FBI gave me these spiffy duds. If any law enforcement shows up asking for me, give me a ring first." "Nyilas; from Burnham? I read about that," Steve seemed bemused. "The day shift Assistant Manager is from Burnham too." How wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Steven sensed my waning interest. "Your keycards, Sir; Cáel and my sympathy for your loss." "Steve, never miss a chance to tell your loved ones how you feel," I took the cards. "That is my biggest regret with my Dad. I didn't think about it the last time we talked." Steve gave a final nod. I rejoined my group and headed for the elevator. The rest was a tired blur. The rest of the group showed up, including Pamela. I called Nicole to tell her the situation then called Timothy despite the late hour to make sure he was okay. Timothy informed me that two 'psycho-chicks' stopped by as a kind of 'meet and greet'. I hit the small hotel fitness center with Mona, the fourth member of Rachel's team. It helped. What helped more was the constant reminder that I worked with smart people. Mona's mother was dead as well, killed on an undisclosed mission with the SD when she was ten. She could understand my sense of grief and confusion. We didn't cry and hug. It wasn't something she could do with a man. Give a decade, or two and she might come around. Instead, "Thank you for Constanza," Mona said quietly to me as we exited the center. "I measure a person's life in the lives we save; as well as the ones we take," I enlightened her. Before that moment, I didn't really consider killing people to be all that praiseworthy an endeavor. Today I had been in a situation where my life had been in immediate danger. I was glad the other guy ended up dead. Since I was prepared to keep acting stupidly, I was grateful for those who would murder people so that I could remain both noble of purpose and alive. "She is close to me; she helped me grow up after Mom was gone," Mona opened up a tiny bit. "Aren't you a bit angry with me?" I asked. "Initially, I was very angry. Then I heard your words and I knew you spoke the truth of the matter," Mona exhaled. "She should have died. She deserved death for what she said." "No one;” I started to comfort Mona. "For a member of a Faith that exults in the harshness of martial conflict, you spend an inordinate amount of energy struggling to keep people alive," Mona noted. "I'm glad I helped deal with those Latin Kings now. It was a mission worth doing." "What?" I stumbled. "Didn't Buffy tell you?" Mona regarded me. She smirked. "Yeah, we hunted them down late Sunday night and into early Monday morning. I doubt the few who escaped will ever be back." "Why haven't I; anybody heard about this?" I worried. Mona looked at me somewhat perplexed. "Cáel of Ishara, we always take the bodies of murder victims, cut them up, place them in large drums of acid and ship them to Canada," Mona informed me. "Ah; thanks for telling me that. Let's both agree to not let Buffy know that I know, okay?" I requested. "She'll get an inordinate thrill thinking she knows something I don't." "As you wish, Cáel of Ishara," Mona nodded gravely.  (Tuesday Morning) Sexual addiction is somewhat like military service. It requires you to be alert to your surroundings, think on your feet, follow procedures and; most crucial to me; shows you how to remain functional with minimal sleep. In this case, five hours sufficed to clear out my cobwebs and make me incredibly horny. All of that was despite the layers of upsetting news being placed before me. Executive Services had gone over the feed from the four SD members. Inadvertently, Dad had fought on the 'right' side. The team leader died first. Her back-up put two men in the grave and wounded a third before they tossed a grenade on her. I looked at Charlotte as she gave me the news. We both had a 'what the' expression on our faces. Grenade? I kept doing my calisthenics. The second two-Amazon group killed three attackers on their side of the building then charged the back door. I wondered if Mom's Garden Dragon was okay. It was like a Garden Gnome, except it was a Dragon. Mom was odd that way. The attacking group had blown the front door and entered the first floor. The Amazons in the back decided to shoot out the lock instead. While transiting the kitchen moving forward, the second group took fire; from a Zastava M 21. I was confused. "It is a modern Serbian weapon," Charlotte filled in the blanks. "Dad was killed by Serbians?" I muttered. "No," Charlotte sighed. "No he wasn't." Another look from me as I started my standing push-ups. "That team member was wounded. The shooter was taken down by both of our teammates. At this point, three other attackers moved from your front room to the dining room, pinning our team down. That was when your father broke cover and assaulted the attackers. He had this large lamp and cracked it over the right shoulder of the closest man," Charlotte stated. I knew that light fixture Charlotte was talking about. It was a floor lamp, nearly two meters tall, made of glass and bronze. My physique was from my Father; broad shoulders and powerful arms. That 'large lamp' weighed over 30 kg and, powered by my father's upper body strength, I was betting the guy who was on the receiving end had have some of his bones snapped. "The man screamed in Bulgarian, his two companions turned to see what was happening and the Amazons advanced by fire toward your father," Charlotte continued. "Your father swung again," she looked at me, "connecting with the man's chest. In response, the other two shot him three times. He fell. The second team pressed forward, killing the man your Father wounded and wounding another. The last unhurt Amazon was killed trying to get to your Father while the survivor was concussed by the use of a second grenade. We don't have the video of what happened in the interim. When the last Amazon began moving again, the two remaining attackers had dragged your father out the front door. She pursued and fired. She wounded the undamaged attacker; and one of her bullets ended your Father's life. She was wounded in this last exchange of fire. The two men helped each other to a vehicle and left." I kept working out as I made an acceptable collage of my misery. "Does she know?" I whispered. "Does she; the Amazon? Her name is Sabina. I don't think she's been informed yet," Charlotte answered. "Unless it becomes necessary, don't tell her that her bullet killed my Father," I sighed. "The only thing that is important to me; to Ishara; is that she gave her all as did her sisters. My Father was killed by the men who first shot him. Had they escaped with my Father, they weren't taking him to a hospital, so he was as good as dead anyway. That is all that matters." "Yes Ishara," Charlotte responded with quiet reverence. Knowing nothing of Security Detail's procedure and tradition, I had tossed out an excuse to spare a valiant woman a terrible piece of news. Charlotte's demeanor suggested to me that it would be a kindness conveyed. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tiger Lily came in from their suite. Mona had been my guardian while I slept so she slept now. This was our signal to shower and put on some clothes before the group went downstairs for breakfast. Pamela presented herself as I was getting dressed. Esmeralda's arrival signaled our migration to the ground floor Atwood restaurant. As everyone glided into the elevator, I had a nostalgic moment for Odette. A normal, non-lethal, happy young lady. This all-encompassing seriousness around me was crimping my efforts to find the silver lining in this personal calamity. Ten seconds after exiting the elevator, Nicole angled toward us then we proceeded to breakfast. It took a little jockeying and refereeing by me to get the seating arrangements set. Nicole was on my left then Pamela. Rachel and E were on my right. Charlotte and Tiger Lily were across from me as orders were taken. "How are you holding up, Cáel?" Nicole put a hand on my lap. I had no immediate reply. "Lonely. Sad. Alone. Bereft of anger; it is pointless. I want to scream, rage, tear things up, throw things across the room and hear them shatter; but not really," I confessed. Suddenly, a strange essence infused my core. "No, that's wrong. I am not alone. We have suffered more, lived through worse and never wavered even in the face of death," I said in a ghostly whisper. That was really the last thing I wanted to say. Its origin was from an enigmatic corner of my mind I was resisting venturing into. 'Taking oneself to the cliffs' made a whole lot more sense suddenly. The Amazon prepared her daughters and granddaughters for her absence. She volunteered to make that trek. In her heart, she called out to her Ancestors to prepare them to accompany her on that final journey. That all sounded like comfortable spiritual mumbo-jumbo, safely quoted by a rational man under duress. The abyssal rift in that psycho-babble, makeshift patch over my emotional pain was I felt Vranus and Ishara standing at my shoulders. Vranus because his seemingly endless quest was finally resolved and he and his descendants would at last be welcomed into the halls of their kin. With me, he had succeeded and brought his people home. There was still the matter of the rest; the three sons of Arinniti and the elder warrior. Holy Crap; they were still out there, waiting to be shown the path home. My 'Evenly Holier Crap' moment was feeling the weight of the eyes of Ishara upon me. Not Ishara, the matron goddess of this; my House, but that ancient Amazon who had surrendered her personal name to oblivion to give her followers a sense of unity. No female was solely 'her' daughter; all the women of the house were equal in birth and station. It was that Ishara who stood at my shoulder and, beyond some perverse desire to look behind me to see how sexy she was, I felt I had her; not approval; her mandate. We had to be held to our oaths and would die to a woman (and man) for them. We were to give the Host a second chance to make things right. There would be no retreat. It was not in the Amazon psyche to fight the relentless, remorseless and bloody battle; to risk everything on victory with no thought of failure. It was not something guys were accustomed to, but had been the doom of men down through the ages. Whether too romantic, too stubborn, or too bound to our brother's in arms, men had embraced hopeless causes before; mostly perishing without fanfare yet with the exceptional impossible victory to give us hope. From time immemorial, male kin of the flesh and spirit had piled their corpses one upon the other, refusing the verdict of combat for the sake of brotherhood and every imaginable ideal. It was hardly a trait worth sharing with the sisters. They would understand the pieces; not the result. My lack of political ability would not be disability. I simply had to learn to fight; a lot better than I did at that moment. The echoes of this message inside my head, the chilled air that filled my lungs and balance restored to my heart was bizarrely unfrightening. It would be an affirmation of the 'first directive' oaths all the houses had sworn. It wasn't my place to raise all the 'Runners', or even a single one. It was my duty to initiate the 'Worthy', no matter their number. My actions were mine. I would not shame the other houses. I would not consider their prestige at all. It was not my place in the same way it was not their place to tell me what I could and couldn't do. It was a divine 'Go get 'em' and it felt pretty, freaking awesome. "Cáel, are you okay?" Nicole asked in a worried tone. She squeezed my thigh. I looked down at my hands. I was okay. "Nicole, I have the blood of Ahhiyawa champions on my hands. I feel it's sticky, sickening ichor and smell the copper-laden, metallic odor," I smiled. "I think I'm going to be just fine." "Who?" Nicole was even more concerned. "Someone who screwed with me a long, long time ago. They are all dead, but don't worry about the bodies showing up to bother anyone," I grinned. All the full-blooded Amazons had been very still. The word 'Ahhiyawa' appeared to scare them even more than my haunting actions. To the Amazons, the Ahhiyawa were the Mycenaeans in the time of the Iliad. The problem seemed to be that I had never heard any member of the Host use that term and I was suddenly curious as to why. "You seemed to have went away for a few seconds," Nicole joked lightly. "You do appear better rested, which is good. What is on the agenda for today?" "Get my Father's body, prepare for his cremation, arrange for the last Roman Catholic Church we attended to send somebody to the service and prepare my parent's plot," I ran down. "I imagine the police and feds will want to contact me again," I piled it on. "I want to see my home if the forensic guys let me. What do you think will be aimed at me?" "We'll check up on any family attorney you may have had along with probating your father's Will, if he had one," Nicole assured me. "As for the authorities, let's see what kind of warrants they are asking for before we move beyond a 'denial' defense." "Denial, as in me claiming I didn't do anything because, ya know, I didn't do anything," I gave her a sleepy smile. "How about we eat first?" We ordered, drank our coffee, tea and juices while remaining largely non-communicative. It wasn't until the food began arriving did I realize I'd 'misplaced' Pamela once more. As I tore into a big slab of ham, I looked over my surroundings for the first time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I spotted Pamela then the 'big picture' kicked me in the nuts. Pamela was dressed as a server, coasting about the room, filling drinks, getting appetizer and performing the tedious little chores that waiters and waitresses had to pull off flawlessly. The other wait-staff noticed Pamela, but since she was making their jobs easier and not taking their gratuities, they ignored her. They probably thought she was some industry expert. The plates were being cleared away when Pamela returned, back in normal clothing. She dumped a pile of ID's on the table. Nicole picked them up. "Chicago PD; Organized Crime Taskforce," Nicole read off then glanced to Pamela. "ATF, Homeland Security, FBI, FBI, Chicago PD; Homicide, Federal Marshall and Federal Marshall." "What?" Pamela said between bites of her veggie omelet. "I took their identification, not their wallets. Do you want me to go back for those too; and their keys?" "No. We have risked Mr. Nyilas' freedom enough for one meal," Nicole shot back. She took Tiger Lily's empty plate, dumped the ID's on it then covered the pile with her handkerchief. "Hello," this officious young lady greeted us. I'd been distracted by Nicole's malfeasance so I missed the hotel's new Assistant Manager's approach. It was turning out to be a great morning for visitations from my past. This ghost was much younger than the last ones. Our eyes met. It was easy to see that I was the man in charge being the only man at the table. "Director Nyilas, I hope everything is going well for you and your staff this morning," she smiled. "I would also like to convey the Hotel Burnham's condolences at the passing of your father. I too was born and raised in Burnham." I already knew where she'd lived most of her life. Most critically, I very strongly recalled where she'd gone to school; all 12 grades plus K. "Cameron Sanders," I stood and extended my hand across the table. "You look familiar." Of course she looked familiar. Cameron had publically ground my soul into the grit that ants stepped upon. Her verbal rejection had been a pivotal moment in my life. After that day, I had taken responsibility for my life both anatomically and academically. Recall how I had said I was once a 'nobody'. Here was living proof. Cameron and I had gone to the same schools from Kindergarten through our senior years. We'd even shared classes and it wasn't like I could be confused with all the other 'Cáels' we'd gone to school with; because there weren't any. The same goes for 'Nyilas'. I'd been shifting the boner in my pants for three solid years because of Cameron. She had been hot in high school and she was even better looking now; Brooke hot. For a second, my confidence wavered. In that heartbeat, I realized she was just another woman and I was no longer that guy. "Where you an upperclassman at Thornton Fractional North High School?" she queried. "Hmm; do you recall Jenny Forrester?" I countered. Cameron knew her African-American rival, no doubt. The tweak in her smile said as much. "I'm going out on a limb; you look like a DePaul girl." Cameron's eyes twinkled. Her eyes flitted down to where her class ring normally held court. She had taken it off for work neutrality. "How did you guess?" Cameron tilted her hip suggestively. Sex. "So I'm right?" I reposed. I had 'guessed' right because Cameron crowed about her decision to go to DePaul over all her other offers. "I have some family business to take care of, Cameron," I nodded. "Can we catch up later today and figure out where we've intersected before this morning?" Translation: I'm going to screw you. Not 'I want to', but 'I will'. I could normally figure out a woman in an evening. I had a three year backlog of data on poor Cameron. My Pivotal Goddess was an 'upfront' girl. Her façade was bravado backed by the fear of not measuring up; not being good enough. My mistake in High School was approaching her, hat in hand. Cameron felt best when someone took the tough choices away from her. If she didn't lead, she couldn't fail by her way of thinking. Dad had stood by me that night when he came home from work. I was a broken wreck of a teenage boy. Dad hadn't told me to toughen up and he hadn't been sympathetic. All he wanted to know was what I was going to do about it. What was 'I' going to do, as if I could be the master of my own fate. That was my Dad. The next day I started working out, eating better and taking better care of myself. He was dead; still dead yet my feelings over that had evolved. He was with my ancestors now, waiting for me and my sons and daughters. Looking at it that way, he wasn't really gone at all. "I'll see what can be done," Cameron smiled. I was going to eat her up. "Oh yeah, this plate was mistakenly delivered to my table," I indicated Pamela's illegal haul. "Could you see that it gets where it needs to go after we are gone?" Cameron shot me a sultry smile without even giving her task a casual glance. A hideous tip (kudos to Odette) was added to our over-priced bill and the ladies and I retired to our rooms. It was routine heading to our room. Mona waved us to silence. Then the 'bug hunt' began. Like every Amazon persecution of opposing 'life forms', they didn't play fair. The Amazons had placed electronic surveillance in the room before they left so when unwelcomed guests showed up while we ate and Mona 'slept' we could watch where they placed their goodies in our rooms. This was not a matter of throwing a fit and tossing the electronic devices down the garbage disposal. Oh no, not in Amazon battle lore. They found out what frequency your device was broadcasting on and backtracked it. According to Tiger Lily you can use a source point and a handheld device to triangulate the receiver. Then the fun begins. First, keep the original signal going. Put a subroutine of; oh, all kinds of credit card fraud in this case with the video file then call the appropriate law enforcement agency to bust the place. The subroutine would have no point of origin, so the Amazons would be safe. The spying agency would have a headache on their hands. Credit card fraud would require them to confiscate all the equipment because the threat posed was real, even if the tip was now suspect. This was the Amazon equivalent of fixating the enemy at one point; surveillance; while making their real move on another; the funeral. The average Amazon funeral was a private affair. My Security Detail was modifying plans for an Amazon dignitary's attendance of another Society member's funerary rites. Halfway through the deception plan, Special Agents Brock and John showed up at our door. With two law firms (Pratt's and Nicole's) dancing on their foreheads, they were being polite today and inviting me down to be questioned. I asked for Detective Lisa and Investigator Horace to be there. One: I didn't dictate who investigated me. Two: they were under Internal Affairs review. I agreed with 'one'; I would say 'nothing' to any number of highly qualified law enforcement operatives. I might give answers to the two I had mentioned. 'Two' was none of my affair. They could hope for some answers when they chose the review would be over. I was more than happy spending a lifetime not talking to them. Legalize was tossed around to the point Nicole yawned, pointed out none of them were attorney's with the United States District Court of the Northern District of Illinois; damn, that's some letterhead, and they could make no deals, grant no immunities, on their own. There was no talking to be done except for the ass-reaming the Court of Appeals was going to give both the Federal attorney who applied for the surveillance warrant and the judge who signed it. Low and behold, phones began ringing. As a patrol unit was making a raid on a room three floors down, a series of shots rang out. A gun battle ensued between the three armed men in the room, the two patrolmen (women actually) and the entire misfortunate event was caught on NBC Channel Five news. Occasionally I forget I work for fundamentally viciously sick fucks. My 'team' had sent the cops and the news crew to the spot and even supplied the ignorant housekeeper with the room card-key for the cops to break in with; a hotel room is not a private dwelling. Cops break in, do their 'freeze, we are the police' thing, but before the three feds in the room could reply, 'their' computer audio equipment let off a sound of bullets firing and ricochets echoing across the room. Nature took its course after that. The feds drew and both sides began shooting. No one died, but one ATF guy was going off to surgery. They would have all earned Purple Hearts if they had been in the military and a commendation no matter what; had two law enforcement agencies not shot each other up. The chase was on for the news crew who was desperately trying to get their station to show the footage before the feds grabbed the memory cards. Despite having had no part in that fiasco, Nicole immediately clued in that the moment our two feds ran off to help their comrades it was our time to leave. Did we go to the vehicles we came in? No. That would have exhibited a lack of paranoia my guardians would have found appalling. Two new car waited a block away. Had I been better at this game, I would have noticed the lack of functioning traffic cameras around us. Instead, I went begging to the local diocese of the Catholic Church. I plead my case. Mom and Dad were devout, raised me to be a devout Catholic yet when my Mother died, my father had never gotten over the trauma and me, being a young man, hadn't explored my spirituality yet; but I promised I'd get right on it when I returned to New York. The priest who handled the end of life stuff for the Church was sympathetic. He gave me the name of a local priest near my home I could talk to on my return. He also told me that he'd received a moving letter from a nun in Uganda about a deeply spiritual moment she had shared with me years ago, so he was onboard with giving my Dad a Catholic send-off. I wasn't sure if that was a sign to never touch a wannabe Nun again, or a reminder that nun's gave incredibly positive feedback on their sexual misadventures. I went with the latter. A few more calls, the choosing of the proper crematorium and I was through with the first part of that ordeal. Next came the funeral notification and invites. The Union would send some of Dad's closest co-workers and several neighbors said they'd show up as well. Flowers, clothes, wake; well, it couldn't be in my family home. The forensic team was gone and it was free for me to wander through, but the bullet holes and blood might put a damper on the ambience. In the midst of my worries, I got a call. A polite man named Winchell Sokolowsky offered me the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion for my personal use. If there is any doubt, Chicago is Not the city of good Samaritans, the overly polite, or even the casually kind. Chicagoans pride themselves on being tough. We have plenty of good people who help out, volunteer and try to make life easier for their fellow man. That does not encompass giving a random stranger use of a multi-million dollar mansion. If I hadn't already been living in fantasy land, I'd have been busy figuring out which one of my few male friends was pulling this prank of on me, but no. "Can I inquire about the source of this largesse, Mr. Sokolowsky? Take in mind the incredible likelihood of a government agency most foul listening in," I cautioned him. "A family friend," he responded with an amused snort. Yeah, cause my Father's funeral was all chuckles for me. Since crab-women weren't likely to know owners of mansions, this had to be my aunts. Woot. "Thank you sir. My security people will be over to sweep the place before the city, state, or federal governments can crank out another search warrant. Thank you again." "That is not unexpected," Sokolowsky replied. "Until then." Rachel looked at me as if I'd done something absurd. She may have been right. "Did you just accept shelter from an individual we do not know; except that he is certainly part of the Protocols?" she stared at me. "Come on now," I chastised her. "It's for a funerary wake. I'm not taking three hundred of the lads out for a stroll, chasing savages up the Little Big Horn, or an Irishman deciding that Oliver Cromwell is a man of his word." I leaned in and winked to Rachel. "Besides Charlie; I got an angle." Pamela, who just happened to be walking by, gave me another high-five. Rachel was really learning to hate/dread those moments of synergy between Pamela and I. "I am not allowed to kill you and I am afraid I can't kill Pamela, but please don't think I don't want to do both," Rachel ratcheted up her displeasure. "Torn into itsy-bitsy pieces;” Pamela started. "And buried alive!" I finished. Another high-five. "You two are both insane," Rachel despaired. "That's the spirit," Pamela and my comeback to Rachel was in synch once again. To prove I wasn't heartless, I hugged Rachel. She froze, arms at her side, caught between warring impulses. I maneuvered her arms around until her hands rested on the back of my hips then rested mine on the small of her back. "Rachel, I cannot go back to a safe, faceless existence," I whispered as I planted tender kisses on her forehead. "To do so would be a betrayal of; me; Ishara." Rachel let go of her emotions and rested her head against my shoulder. "Why couldn't I be tasked to do something sane; like fight drug cartels, Maoist insurgence, or corporate hit squads in the Amazon?" she sighed. I moved my hands to her ass and gave them a nice fondle making sure to slowly grind her waist against my hips. Humping her would have been a mistake. That was sexual. I was giving her a bit of physical appreciation and nothing more. Rachel tilted her head up, I brought mine down until we were nose to nose. "Promise me you will try to stay alive, Cáel," she sounded almost mournful. "I will make a deal with you," I stated. "If I make it back to New York alive, you will consent to have sex with me." Rachel was confused, suspicious yet aroused. "None of this 'one hour' in some dormitory, or nunnery cell. I want everything; a light meal, some quality touching time and a minimum of two rounds of orgasmic sex." "Ah; not a scratch," Rachel counter-offered. I nodded, kissed her nose and she felt as if she'd won something. Rachel got ready to take us to our next stop. Pamela slipped past me. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," she whispered. I had never used that term out loud before. "That's what I would say," she clarified. She was my evil psychic twin grandmother. It was through a tireless group effort that I made it back to the Hotel Burnham at 4 p.m. Cameron made a show of being busy when I first came back. I was willing to be patient. While she puttered around, I flirted with the desk clerk and one of the baggage attendants; pale skin, blonde hair with freckles and light brown skin, black hair in a Nubian weave. This was the 'professional' lure. By presenting myself as a 'Man's Man' and garnering female adoration, I was clearly not (yet) that into her. The pressure was on her and Cameron didn't like pressure because pressure equated to the possibility of failure. Her advantages which were obvious to every other observer were not certainties to her. Contest time. "Director Cáel Nyilas," Cameron interrupted my joke to the two ladies, "I'm finished up for the day." I gave a quick smile to the women I was about to leave then turned on my personal demon. "Should I wait in the lounge until you change?" "No," I waved off her objections. "You can come up to my suite and then we can go to your domicile for you to change for a night out." Quick visual clue update: she lived at home with her parents yet dated enough that it wouldn't be awkward. It also showed me that she was uncomfortable about going to my room. She wasn't so enchanted she would do something stupid. I had the answer to that. I had made it a public declaration. Not only did my hovering troop had the news, so did her front desk. Nothing bad could happen to her if everyone knew where she was; right? On the elevator ride up it was just me, Cameron, Pamela and Esmeralda. The rest travelled on ahead. She took one rear corner so I took the other. I then let my leather-soled shoes slide down the carpet, lowering my overall height compared to Cameron. At some point, I began back-spinning my feet, pretending to be on the edge of falling on my ass. I smiled at Cameron and her eyes sparkled at the vaudevillian gesture. Know your prey and I knew way more about Cameron than was healthy for any girl. For instance, she loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton; more of a Keaton girl. She giggled then came to my rescue. She was wrapping me up in her arms while mine stayed safely away. "You are a bit of a joker," she teased me. "Your beautiful smile makes all that effort worthwhile," I truthfully pledged to Cameron. She sighed so contentedly. Behind her back, Pamela was loading a two-barreled hunting device, aiming at some surface-based, above ground structure with an open top and gave it both barrels while avoiding the imaginary back-splash. 'Looks like herring for dinner,' she mouthed with a wicked grin. Esmeralda was soaking it in. Hadn't I pounced on Rachel a few hours earlier? I was definitely hooking Cameron and reeling her in for some sexual deviant purpose; and Pamela was mocking the whole situation. E turned and faced the doors. "You seem like a really nice guy," Cameron murmured. "I mean that in a good way." "I can't see you as any way, but truthful and kind," I met her cherished countenance. "I imagine even harsh lessons are difficult for you to deliver." There; she had one last chance to figure out the poor schlub she'd crushed at the start of our senior year was me. "Being a leader can be very tough," she moped as she pressed into me. My mumbled offerings of affection and her savage reprisal had never registered with her. I was going to eat her alive. "How about I take care of you tonight?" I requested. She hesitated, not out of fear, but confusion. "Completely relax and I'll make the decisions for this one night. Your mind will be free to enjoy and discard at your pleasure." On most levels, Cameron was seeing this as a date. She was a 'dating' girl. She didn't give up the goodies until date three, if I was exceptionally good; date four, or five otherwise. I was about to dispose of that with a clever case of role reversal. My two staffers vanished as I entered my lakeside executive suite. A splendid view I thought I'd never be able to afford the last day; The 28th of December. I had enough money for a flight and a date picking me up at the airport. Bolingbrook had an inordinate amount of students stay the holidays and, by tradition, the graduating class hosted a New Year's Eve party for those students and the staff. I had told Dad about Havenstone and my infinitesimal chances of that kind of job. That was it. He patted me on the shoulder. There was no pressure to come back to Burnham after graduation if I didn't have a job lined up. It was my home if I needed it. So much was unspoken between us. I could tell he was proud; college; good grades; popular; happy. I shouldn't have taken for granted we'd get a chance to talk later. Back to the joy at hand. "So, what's it like working with your Dad?" I dropped into our causal conversation. I was in the bedroom, door open; really? Why do they put doors on those things? The 'Daddy' question could be taken two ways and I trusted Cameron to take it the worse way; and to be pissed. "My Father didn't get me the job here!" Cameron stormed in and insisted with a nice spirited mare stomp of the foot as emphasis. I 'just happened' to be naked, half turned away and a nice, highly suggestive pair of men's underwear in my hands. "What do you mean?" I was clearly confused. I turned a bit more toward her. Now she could almost see everything. "You; you have scars all over your body," she moaned. "I am a warrior, Cameron. This is the kind of man I am," I gave her a fierce, dominating gaze. "I fight for what I want and I brutally defend that which is mine. Who did you think I was?" Had Cameron been a fighter, that would have been the point she left the room. She was all up-front, bravado and a superior façade over an insecure, parentally driven trophy for their mantel place. My anger faded. It wasn't her fault I couldn't read her signs four years ago. I was still going to fuck her to the afterlife and back, but this time I'd be doing it as an informative journey. "I don't know anymore," Cameron tried to rally some sort of coherent rampart. "Come here," I beckoned her with one hand (the one without the underwear). Cameron shook her head. "Cameron, please believe me, there are things my staff would let me get away with; rape is not one of them. I won't touch you anywhere unless you give me permission." If you are a girl in the room at this point, you are toast. I just made it safe to touch my naked body. Sure, you have clothes on; for now, but not for long. Why? Women desire sex about as much as men do. Unless you are a vapid fashion model with substance abuse issues, men with non-disfiguring scars are an aphrodisiac. Add to that a hard-forged physique and men, sex is there for the taking. "I; uh;” she kept taking baby-steps forward. "I; Pam; Pamela is it?" "Yo," Pamela answered in a bored manner, knife in hand, then, "Whoa now!" she pointed her knife at my equipment. "Sheath that, young man. Put it under wraps right now." "I'm grown man, Pamela," I griped. I also put on my underwear. "Pluck the freaking pebble out of my hand, bitch, and then I'll call you an adult," Pamela sneered. Looking to Cameron, "Anything else Miss?" "No, thank you; no, wait. What do you do for Mr. Nyilas?" Cameron asked. "I'm his psychic medium," was Pamela's sage reply. That supernatural bogusness made Cameron happy. It shouldn't have. "Yeah, I kill his enemies then interrogate their souls," Pamela added with a nod. "It is highly rewarding work." Cameron's mouth gaped. "How about I shut the door and give you two kids some privacy." "What does she really do?" Cameron whispered to me. Part of me wanted to say 'she told you'. "She's my masseuse," I lied. I started putting my pants on (forgetting my socks) then fell/sat on the bed. Cameron came to my bedside. I rolled on my back and highly exaggerated the effort it took to pull them up. Cameron began giggling. "Hey, these are my 'skinny' slacks. I wouldn't laugh at you if our positions were switched." "Really?" she teased me. I laughed and she laughed along. "Cameron, think about it. I'm shirtless and definitely bra-less. I'm pretty sure I'd be too distracted by a multitude of your other assets to snicker," I countered. Cameron blushed and smiled. Ah, the visual image in Cameron's head was her, with jeans, racy panties and nothing else on while I hovered over her, relishing her attempts to conceal her charms. I shuffled back on the bed and resumed pulling my slacks up. Cameron followed, right into the danger zone. "Wait;” she put a hand on my abdomen. "What caused that scar?" So I told her. Okay, I gave her an abridged version of the truth. Fine, I lied like a big dog. I had the amazing habit of stumbling across women in need of saving. I bled for their virtue and honor, racked with intense pain before a violent victory was seized by my masculine hands. I was sure that Pamela and Rachel were hiding just outside the door, retching into waste baskets over the layers upon layers of my tripe. Around wound twelve, I was sure if I had asked Cameron to wear little lamb ears and a bell around her neck, she would have; had one been handy. To be fair, I wasn't fighting off legions of Green Beret. I was doing one better. I was using thinly-veiled caricatures of her High School enemies and nemeses. I was revealing their wickedness and pummeling them for their evil ways. There is a precious look a woman has when she miraculously discovers she is going to have the intercourse she's wanted yet somehow not recognized that need for until that moment. Cameron had that look, straddling me, skirt hiked up to her waist and vulva riding my cock (two layers intervening). We were out of wounds. "The rest are covered up," I explained in a predatory voice. Yes, Cameron was going to have sex and she had no control of events whatsoever and I hadn't even laid a hand on her yet. "Where?" she was suddenly baffled. "Pants," I kept it short and to the point. Cameron looked over her shoulder She reluctantly started to dismount so she could get to them so I made my move. I grabbed her hips in mid-dismount and rotated her around to reverse-cowgirl. Cameron began tugging off my pants with my legs raised high. My stomach crunches kicked in and I leveraged my torso up as well. I deftly moved her skirt up and went straight to the ass massage. Cameron's head shot around, eyes fearful. I had broken my word to not touch her without permission. Yes, I had lied to a girl; Now, I kissed her right on the lips, expertly delivered a delving French kiss and moved one hand to her right breast for an aggressive fondle. Cameron was really getting into it. Her nipples were highly sensitive. Her ass was humping like an over-eager sorority girl pole-dancing on Amateur Night. On cue, Cameron broke free and flew off the bed. "What; you; I thought we were going out?" she whined. She was horny as hell and didn't want to be held accountable at it. "Why are you running away?" I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind; that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know. Remember guys, it cuts both ways. Don't think so? You've had a girlfriend three whole months to the point she's staying over a night or two a week. One night, after your (hopefully) second round, you both discover it is that time of the month. 'Babe (or whatever pet name she has saddled you with), can you run to the store and get me some tampons and pads?' That, by the way, was not a question. She, for hygiene reasons, can't put her clothes on and go out herself. So, you go out to the Quick-Mart at 2 a.m. praying to God that none of your buddies are on a late night beer run and see you with your; stuff. You are not doing this for sex. She's not feeling 100% at the moment. Why are you? Guilt. She was at your place, making your Baloney Pony happy and this happened. You could send her out to the store. Not only is she not the only woman out there, many women understand guys getting freaked out about menstrual products. No, you feel guilty and risk the ridicule of your peers because it is your fault and you are not a dick-wad. And why did she ask you to do something that has nothing to do with you? Women are equally aware that guilt works, Baby. Back to our tale; "I'm not running away," sounded empty coming out of her mouth. "You said; touching." "I think you gave that option up when you crawled on top of me," I leered. "I clearly want to be with you, Cameron. You have given every indication you want to be with me, so I ask you again, why are you suddenly running away?" I kept after her. "I don't want to have sex; right now," again, she sounded weak. "Whatever happens, I go back to New York in two days," I met her shaky gaze. "You can set a time table if you like. The actuality of my life is relentless. I have things to get back to. If you are going to go, then go. I'll head out alone tonight, get a few drinks, come back early and grab some shut-eye," I shrugged. I went searching for my pants. See, she wasn't some random fuck. I wasn't leaving to replace her; making her a failure. I was hemming her in. I had the timeline. I had made my desires clear. There was no negotiation so while she appeared to have choices, she didn't and she knew it. For a girl who had spent so much effort working hard to not disappoint the main masculine figure in her life there was only one thing to do. "I don't want you to think I ever do anything like this," she propped up her morals while stutter-stepping back to the bed. "I feel I have a connection with you." Ah; the 'I have a connection with you' excuse. It would have been so appropriate if she actually remembered me. I pulled her onto the bed, went through the obligatory trying to push me off then we were back to the kissing and humping. Cameron turned out to be a 'use me' girl. That does Not mean abuse, it means she gets off being a responder to her partner's sexual directions. Caress her cheek, jaw and throat and she'd cup my chin, or massage my chest. Cameron was smart and a quick-learner. Her problem was a lack of a sense of adventure and an aversion to taking the lead. With the phantom applause of a hundred other male 'losers' who went to Fractional North High School, I ‘did' the queen who had been beyond us all only four years ago. The erotic twist to all that was with every sense of triumph and pleasure, Cameron mimicked me. Certainly we were both having a memorable time. I had to touch, lick, knead, and fondle every inch of Cameron's body. We both explored our nipple fetish, sixty-nined and engaged in some anal play; no penetration. I completed my first sojourn with the removal of the condom and the blowjob that had been the fantasy of countless hours in my home's upstairs bathroom. Cameron didn't just swallow; she savored and looked like she wanted more. Normally I cuddle beside my partner post-coitus. With Cameron, I lay on top of her at eye level. I put enough weight on her to let her feel pinned without real discomfort. "I have a confession," I gave her a sweaty-faced grin. "What?" she asked then gave me a peck on the lips. "We went to school together; same grade and everything," I enlightened her. "We even talked once." Cameron didn't know what to make of that. "I'll put that in perspective though. Do you believe that if you do something you do your best? Do you believe in craftsmanship?" "Cáel, you are scaring me," Cameron frowned. "Fifteen seconds and you can go," I conveyed with as much calm as I could. "Answer my question." "Okay; yes, I believe in doing your best. I believe in craftsmanship," Cameron played along. "Your words; 'never in a million years'." I related and waited. First there was the uncertainty and fear of the odd course our relationship had taken. It took a few seconds because so few pieces of the puzzle fit. "Cáel Nyilas; it was you; start of senior year; I had been," she muttered. Then came the real fear. "You must hate me." "I thought about it," I said, "but that isn't really me. See, you helped create me. Truth be told, you were only the catalyst. I did all the work." "A great many women helped. They were never a replacement for you. I was taught better than that by my first lover," I continued. "Still, I would be totally different if you hadn't casually annihilated my self-worth that September day." Pause. "Do you like the results?" "You really don't hate me;” Cameron was coming around. "It was high school. We all screw up in high school. According to a few studies, if you don't make a mess of high school, you are destined for failure," I related some real information. "You are getting hard again," Cameron gasped back to being okay with things between us. "Perhaps I should have warned you," I grinned wickedly. "I'm a sex addict." "Hey, Sex Addict!" Pamela shouted into the room. "There are some people out here to see you." "Good people, or bad people?" I shouted back. "Worse," Pamela replied. "The kind of people that want something from you." That was vaguely unpromising. "Cameron, take a shower and we'll talk about dinner when you get out. I think I need to take care of this," I sighed. Off went Cameron to the shower and on went my robe. In the main room, with a variety of levels of sexual tension, were sixteen women I didn't know. The Hotel Burnham has very nice suites, but they are not ballrooms. The room was pretty crowded, with not enough chairs and wall space getting sparse. They were all Havenstone women and I was willing to bet the average age was thirty-five; not my normal crowd. At least I knew why they were all there. Pamela suspected. Rachel and her team were clueless. "Hi, I am known as Cáel Nyilas," I greeted them. "A short history lesson and things will make a great deal more sense, so please be patient." The crowd was not pleased. I was a male and to a woman, the ladies had repudiated the world of men. They were all 'Runners'. It was the presence of Rachel's group that was keeping them civil at this point. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, as the Second Betrayal was ending, there was a small group of males who had proven themselves to the Amazon Host, taken into houses and their names were written on the Amazon Rolls," I started off. "Two of those males and three male children of one of the houses survived the massacre the female Amazons inflicted on their kin." That bought me a moment. Slaughtering your own babies, even male babies, wasn't something they would shrug off. "Well, if you know your Amazon politics, you know that the children of an Amazon who dies while in service of the Host becomes a member of the Host; so on and so on." The implications were sinking in as was the nervousness. "One of those men was a young warrior named Vranus of House Ishara. I am the sole surviving heir of Vranus. We are also here for the burial of my Father, who was murdered Sunday night. The next bit of Amazon politics. House Ishara was an extinct First House," I continued. "Oh shit," was uttered from half-dozen lips as they moved to the next, obvious step. "The succession to the Head of House for any House is elevation by your peers, accepted ritual combat and; the oldest surviving member of the House," I added. "By the Seven Martial Goddess; don't you have to be female? I mean; We are Amazons!" one of the 'Runners' yelled in disbelief. "Do you plan to add more males to your House?" one of the senior members growled. "Two things; it should not bother you one way, or another, and it is not MY House. It is the House of my Ancestor, Ishara. If this is going to be a problem, you are in the wrong room," I met her hostile glare ember for ember. That one headed for the door. "Wait," a fellow 'Runner' grabbed her arm. "You can't be going along with this Marsha?" the departing Amazon snapped. "I don't know this one, but I trust Buffy," Marsha countered. "Ok ladies, so that we are clear," Pamela sighed. "The next one of you to insult the Head of House Ishara, I am going to drag into the other room, kill you and cut you up into giblets for room service to take away," Pamela sounded positively disinterested. "I am not afraid of you," the departing one glared. "That would be a serious mistake," Rachel interjected quietly. Deep breath from me. "Listen, this is a highly improbable incident. I am not asking anyone to embrace the society you have rejected. In fact, I admire you for the strength it took to transition. I also ask you to accept the fact that I DO NOT want to be here, doing this, with any of you," I made one last effort. "Quite frankly, you man-haters scare me; being a man and all. You seem to think I have a choice in any of this. I don't. I am the heir of Vranus. I am the last known living descendant of the Amazon who chose the name Ishara for the sake of her house's unity," I stated. "I don't want to do this, but I'm not the kind of human being who runs away from my responsibilities." "Okay; Cáel of Ishara, why are we here?" Marsha said as she kept the other one from leaving. "Sixty years ago, the Amazon Houses swore an oath to the women who joined their cause. They lied to you. They have not kept up their side of the bargain. They have refused virtually all of you entry into the status as true, full-blooded Amazons," I explained. "And now you are going to rectify that; injustice?" the senior one kept mocking me. "Fine; you and me; one last chance," I sighed. "Look around you. Who do you see? The prettiest, the most pliable, the most power-hungry? If you can point out one woman in this room that doesn't deserve to be a Full-Blooded Amazon, leave now." "You didn't choose any of us," she responded. "Exactly!" I shouted. "I didn't choose any of you to be in House Ishara. Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara did. Why? Because I don't know any of you, or your sacrifices and worth to Havenstone. I gave that duty to the two; and only two; member of House Ishara who would know who was the most worthy to be in a First House." "We are here to be inducted," one of the silent Amazons voiced with a dream-like quality. "Yes. Barring being rejected by Ishara, you will be inducted at my Father's graveside tomorrow morning," I stated clearly. "How many?" Senior questioned. "This time; twenty," I answered. "I have no agenda and no set number of 'Runners' to be inducted into House Ishara. It doesn't work

In this week's episode, we continue our three part series on Pope Francis' recent encyclical Dilexit Nos. We reflect on our ache to be loved, how Jesus heals in close proximity to us, and the “science of the caress”. We also talk about how Jesus is a man who comes and finds us wherever we are and longs to open up a new place for us in relationship with Him. Will we allow our hearts to beat again with love? Heather's One Thing - Thai Peanut Chicken Stir Fry  Sister Miriam's One Thing - Abuses in the Religious Life and the Path to Healing by Dom Dysmas de Lassus Michelle's One Thing(s) - Fr. Mark Mary's new podcast: Rosary in a Year and Big Spoon Roasters - Vanilla Caramel Nut Butter   Other Resources Mentioned:  “Dilexit Nos”: A brief guide for busy readers Dilexit Nos audio version   Journal Questions: Do I perceive Jesus' presence in my life as being up close to me, or at a distance? How have I encountered Jesus as the Lover? How do I project my scars onto Jesus? Who in my community or in the Church is hardest for me to love right now? How can I love them better? Where do I have a belief that Jesus is indifferent to me?   Discussion Questions: How have you experienced the ache to be cherished? How can you bring communion where there is polarity and discord? What happens in you when you consider the Sacred Heart of Jesus? When have you blindly trusted in Jesus and His Love and Providence for you? How did He prove Himself trustworthy?   Quotes to Ponder: “The heart of Christ, as the symbol of the deepest and most personal source of his love for us, is the very core of the initial preaching of the Gospel. It stands at the origin of our faith, as the wellspring that refreshes and enlivens our Christian beliefs.” (Pope Francis, “Dilexit Nos”, Paragraph 32)   Scripture for Lectio:  “Take heart, daughter!” (Matthew 9:22) Sponsor - Florecita Design: Florecita Design wants to help you build your domestic church. The Florecita Design Activity Bundle is a set of 12-15 printable activities for young children, delivered each month and based on the Catholic liturgical calendar. Every month, Florecita Design will help you incorporate math, science, and pre-literacy skills with your little kids all within the context of the Catholic Church. This Activity Bundle is a digital subscription created by a speech-language pathologist to provide parents with the tools and language to incorporate the faith easily into every day play for their 2 to 7 year-olds. All parents have to do is print the activities and follow along the instructional booklet for enriching, screen free ways to entertain their kids. Florecita Design just released the Advent and Christmas Activity Bundle, which is a holiday special with TWENTY activities, including puzzles, an Advent prayer banner, St. Nicholas activities, and so much more. To learn more, visit florecitadesign.com.  You can use the code ABIDE10 for 10% off your first three months of the Activity Bundle! You can also follow along on Instagram @florecitadesign for speech-language tips, sales and liturgical living ideas for little kids.  Let's teach our kids the Catholic faith in ways that are simple, tangible and beautiful!   Timestamps: 00:00 - Florecita Design 01:19 - Intro 02:12 - Welcome 02:43 - Actions Reflect Our Heart 04:09 - The Science of Caress 05:37 - The Humanity of Christ 08:26 - Aching to Be Loved 10:11 - The Holy Spirit and Community 14:03 - The Human Heart 17:08 - Vulnerability and Secure Love 20:00 - Our Image of God 23:08 - One Things

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..

Aftermath returns for Season 4! The shocking events of the final episodes of Season 3 will have ripple effects for all of the characters. How will Cutty handle his newfound knowledge? What is Bath's physical and mental state after being manhandled by Phoenix law enforcement? Are Castro, Deveneaux, and Chang safe? A special thanks to our supporters who contributed to crowdfunding Season 4 of Aftermath, including: David Thomas Angela Davis Mary de Greef Sam Ashoo Jennifer Britt Kendra Madden Holly Hanna Malcolm Sterling weberhart4 Megan Brown Visit our website at aftermathpodcast.net. Enter the Greenstream on social media! Twitter: @GroupFirepit Instagram: @firepitcreativegroupofficial Facebook: www.facebook.com/firepitcreativegroup YouTube: Fire Pit Creative Group Email: firepitcreativegroup@gmail.com Credits and Sound Effect Attribution Aftermath is a Fire Pit Creative Group production and is based on a story created by Rhett Davis, with characters created by Rhett Davis, Warren Davis, Willem de Greef, and Cole Hoopingarner. Original script by Warren Davis. Edited by Cole Hoopingarner Narrated and produced by Cole Hoopingarner, with music by Warren Davis Video Production by Willem de Greef Sound effects used for this episode were obtained from: http://soundbible.com/2178-Crackling-Fireplace.html http://soundbible.com/1807-Explosion-Ultra-Bass.html http://freesound.org/people/Kolezan/sounds/246116 https://www.zapsplat.com/music/science-fiction-drone-room-tone-atmosphere/ https://www.zapsplat.com/music/science-fiction-atmosphere-drone-tone/ https://freesound.org/people/AlaskaRobotics/sounds/221570/ https://freesound.org/people/DudeAwesome/sounds/386023/ https://freesound.org/people/abro/sounds/250514/ https://freesound.org/people/bbrocer/sounds/382646/ https://freesound.org/people/RoganDerrick/sounds/260440/ https://freesound.org/people/Klangkobold/sounds/443061/ https://freesound.org/people/coldvet/sounds/404920/ Aftermath and its story, music, artwork, and characters are copyrighted by Fire Pit Creative Group.

What I wish I had heard after my abortion:“Reunite with your body.”☀️

Listen to the full story time FREE via podcast episode #63 of Sex and Swinging with TorontoUnicorn podcast here: https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/sex-and-swinging-with-torontounicorn/id1665376750?i=1000663365174 WATCH my interview with Chris and Caress: https://youtu.be/SJuukMSdFLE?si=1ASLwrNAcuIVpyeV WATCH my first threesome story time video: https://youtu.be/ff1b4PQhYzs?si=Vg2-XMs7-OU0FDeR *Bonus episode from July 27, 2024 available in video on YouTube and Spotify* ALL social media links: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://campsite.bio/torontounicorn⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ DIRECT link to my explicit TorontoUnicorn fan page: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://OnlyFans.com/TorontoUnicorn⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ -- Sex Stories Podcast! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/sex-stories-with-torontounicorn/id1695478072⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

Thursday's Race of the Day is Saratoga's Grade 3 Caress Stakes. Dan Illman and Mike Beer analyze here. This podcast is powered by ZenCast.fm

It's time for a Circle Chat ⭕ ! In this episode, Shelby and Laura are joined by special guest, The Circle Season 6 cast member, and motivational speaker, Caress Russell AKA Paul. We review The Circle Season 6 and discuss her experience on the season and the broader Netflix Reality Universe. Tune in for a laughter-filled interview with behind-the-scenes tea and a surprise rap. We discuss how Caress ended up being cast on the show and why she was destined for reality TV, analyze why she decided to play as her brother and star rapper, Paul Russell, dissect her catfish strategy, explain why the show provides insight on communicating via social media, gush over Miles and QT's onscreen and offscreen relationship, highlight our favorite moments from the season, like the battle rap challenge and Paul sacrificing himself for Kyle, and debate whether finding a romantic connection on a reality competition show is a green flag. Interested in more reality TV content? Check out our podcast episodes on Charrisse Tells All: The Real Housewives of Potomac Season 8 ft. Charrisse Jackson-Jordan, Alexis Tells All: Ready To Love Season 9 ft. Alexis Williams, ⁠Bravo Breakdown & The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills S13 ft. Ben Mandelker (Watch What Crappens)⁠, ⁠The Bachelor Season 28 (Joey's Season)⁠, ⁠Love Is Blind Season 6 Finale & Reunion ft. Ashley Menzies Babatunde⁠, ⁠The Traitors US Season 2 ft. DocuSweeties⁠, and ⁠Love Is Blind Season 6 Episodes 1-9⁠. To stay up to date on all things SWW: follow @SistersWhoWatch on all social media channels (⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠), subscribe to our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ channel, and check out our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and fill out the contact information form. What should we watch next? Email us at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠sisterswhowatch@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or DM us on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ with your suggestions. Thank you for listening and we appreciate your support! Please rate, subscribe, download, share, and leave us a review :) --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/sisterswhowatch/support

Ellen and Mal welcome author emmbrancsxx0 to discuss Destiel fanfiction set in the Wild West. Fics include The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0, Wheat Fields and Jars of Light by Violue, the West series by Xela, Something Like a Broken Heart by RhymePhile, and Hunter's Caress by Ltleflrt, plus many more! The post Track 44: Western AU appeared first on Mixtape Book Club.

Let Go, Heal Your Heart & Move Forward | Heart Chakra Music for Deep Healing | Beautiful Calm Frequency Tones To Cleanse Your Energy