Podcast appearances and mentions of charlie horses

The Rob Brown Show 3/7/25 Hour 4-Charlie Horse full Rob and Lonzo talk College Basketball, Charlie Horses, and What the X 2790 Fri, 07 Mar 2025 15:14:22 +0000 wHtj5uKgWOtRKoKwSZVhoabpYJCPybsh college basketball,sports,basketball The Rob Brown Show college basketball,sports,basketball The Rob Brown Show 3/7/25 Hour 4-Charlie Horse Rob Brown is the newest addition to The Fan Upstate’s leading line-up of local talk shows! Rob has been in the radio business for over 14 years and his happy to now call the Upstate his home! The Rob Brown Show isn't your normal sports talk show. It's not yelling about stats or forcing contrived arguments for the sake of confrontation. The Rob Brown Show is your three hour daily escape from the mundane, and an adventure into the human side of sports. When Rob comes on the air, he isn't there to talk at you. Here's there to talk to you about the things that make sports fun and interesting. Rob will still tackle the controversial, and has no shortage of opinions about any and all sports topics that matter to Upstate South Carolina. But at the end of the day, The Rob Brown Show is a gathering place, a spot for sports fans of all walks of life to come together, laugh, joke and talk about sports the way that actual human beings want to do. When Rob isn’t on the air, he also plays music in an 80's cover band for fun. The Rob Brown Show, weekdays 9am to Noon on The Fan Upstate! 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Sports Basketball False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-li

The Rob Brown Show 3/7/25 Full Hour full Rob and Lonzo talk NFL Draft, Crackers, College Basketball, and Charlie Horses 11037 Fri, 07 Mar 2025 15:25:19 +0000 UnBmdhvY3Rm3vlUbODfiVd3GEdWcszrS nfl,college basketball,dk metcalf,sports The Rob Brown Show nfl,college basketball,dk metcalf,sports The Rob Brown Show 3/7/25 Full Hour Rob Brown is the newest addition to The Fan Upstate’s leading line-up of local talk shows! Rob has been in the radio business for over 14 years and his happy to now call the Upstate his home! The Rob Brown Show isn't your normal sports talk show. It's not yelling about stats or forcing contrived arguments for the sake of confrontation. The Rob Brown Show is your three hour daily escape from the mundane, and an adventure into the human side of sports. When Rob comes on the air, he isn't there to talk at you. Here's there to talk to you about the things that make sports fun and interesting. Rob will still tackle the controversial, and has no shortage of opinions about any and all sports topics that matter to Upstate South Carolina. But at the end of the day, The Rob Brown Show is a gathering place, a spot for sports fans of all walks of life to come together, laugh, joke and talk about sports the way that actual human beings want to do. When Rob isn’t on the air, he also plays music in an 80's cover band for fun. The Rob Brown Show, weekdays 9am to Noon on The Fan Upstate! 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Sports False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-link=https%3A

And the Beat Goes On.Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. Tuesday night, in the asphalt-covered rear loading area of the Wal-Mart there was a Redneck throw down. Buck Tooney was wasting no time in cementing his leadership position over the White portion of our High School. His job was made more difficult by Darius' ruthless efficiency in allowing no other organizations, no matter how informal, to challenge his dominion. That translated over to Buck having to bust more heads to bring the 'rednecks' all in line.If that worked out, the city-Whites would be next. The problem for everyone else was the High School had been a succession of autocratic tyrannies for so long, it was difficult for the students to successfully even balkanize, much less unify. Everyone assumed another 'Darius' would eventually arise to restore a brutal school order; as long as 'he' was Black.That meant Buck needed a Black figurehead to parade in front of the 'establishment' to get things done. So far, no such person existed. Rashaan not only had the mistaken impression he could resist Buck, he was the Chief of Police's son; so not a prime candidate to be a figurehead for a criminal like Buck. Therefore he had to get Rashaan out of the way; figuratively speaking.Another problem for Buck was the school already had an existing Black criminal element. Darius had not been a part of it, but like so many other aspects of school society, when he told the leaders of the school subcultures to do something, or not to do something, he expected compliance. If not; pain would definitely follow. These characters weren't going to easily knuckle under to Buck Tooney though. After all, he'd been Darius' brother's 'boy', not the other way around.If anyone seriously thought Buck had returned to High School to be the Black Man's Bitch (again), they were clearly high, brain damaged, and/or delusional. I wouldn't have put money on who could have taken who in a Buck vs. Darius brawl; except Darius wouldn't have been lured into that kind of fight.Absent Darius, the school's Black community only had two confederates with sufficient intellect and charisma to lead the forces on that side of the racial divide. Sadly for the disciples of the Almighty BBC, both were women. Not only was Taliyah's mom the Mayor, she herself was co-Captain of one of the establishment's most recognized bodies; the Cheer Squad.The other was Jewel 'C. S.' Lafontanté. She was more infamous than famous, intelligent, un-aligned with any club, or activity, which awarded accolades, yet was overly endowed with a host of natural abilities as well as learned skills and talents. And, unlike Taliyah,; absent Darius; she felt the top spot was hers for the taking from the get go.Step one had been to sit at the feet of her mother and father, taking their counsel on the principles of asymmetric warfare, transforming weaknesses into strengths and how to locate, isolate and exploit the weaknesses of her enemies. Step two was accomplished Tuesday night when she and the rest of the Zulu Princess Posse jettisoned their boyfriends. From here on out, the ladies would be taking whatever cock they wanted. The times; they were a-changing.I had two more imminent problems with my life. The first was Riley Pasternak, Mayor Malik's aide and a woman I'd put my cock into; without my Mother's permission. By the way she kept licking absolutely everything off her fingertips at dinner Tuesday night while staring at me, I was sure she was expecting another performance.Before I could worry about how to finally put the brakes on my out of control sex drive, we had a caller at the gate; for me. It was Randi Leigh Upshaw. That was more than a tad unexpected. I'd stuck my cock in her, so I felt obliged to provide hospitality now that she came calling, but promised myself 'no sex'. We met on the porch.‘Hey, Vlad,' Randi Leigh appeared distracted and a bit distraught and couldn't meet my gaze.‘Hello, Randi Leigh. Care to sit down?' I motioned toward the porch swing.‘Sure,' she walked that way. It wasn't all that cold, she was in a team jacket, yet she still felt the need to wrap herself in her arms.‘What's going on?' I said once we'd taken our seats and swung back and forth twice.‘I; do you like Brandy?' she turned on me, putting a both her hands on my right forearm.‘Yes, I do,' I nodded. ‘Very much.'‘I can make you happier than she can,' bubbled forth from her lips.'What gives you that idea', seemed inappropriate so; ‘I thought you were happy with Rashaan,' was my second, and apparently equally bad, choice. Her look said it all: Rashaan wasn't getting the job done in a fundamental way.‘He's nothing like you,' she purred with the understated passion of an addict needing fix; me being the drug.‘Vlad, what is going on out here?' Mom called out. With Mom's propensity to sneak up on things like a Martian and listen in on conversations, this had to be a clue about something more. We both hopped out of the swing.‘This is Randi Leigh Upshaw. She's a; ah friend of Brandy and on the Cheer Squad. She's dating Rashaan Quinterre now.'‘Nice to meet you,' Mom was full with the feigned politeness, ‘Randi Leigh. I need a moment of Vlad's time, then I'll give him back.'She pulled me aside and back down the walk around porch until we were out of earshot then;‘Care to explain?'So I did; everything from the encounter in the Parking Lot to the Music Room banter, her going off in an epileptic seizure and ending with her here; now. Mom put her hand to her chin as she lowered her head slightly. Her far-off look dictated she wanted a few moments to think things through.‘With some girls; it goes straight to the brain like some allergic reaction,' she related. ‘In 1898, one of your ancestors was felled by a delirium and was cared for in a cat house in Dawson City. Three 'Ladies of the Evening' quickly fell to fighting over him and concluding with two fighting a duel with pistols in the middle of Front Street to decide who got 'their man'. Clearly some ladies can go a bit nuts over what your family has in your nut sack.'‘That's totally nu; crazy and unfair to poor Randi Leigh,' I frowned. I kicked at the planks on the porch for good measure.‘Didn't you just tell me she is gladly whoring herself out for Rashaan Quinterre? Do you think she's doing that for love?'‘What about Brandy? I don't want to cheat on her; any more than I've already cheated on her,' I muttered. Man, I sounded pathetic!‘Here's what you do,' my Mother stroked my cheek. ‘You tell Randi Leigh she had better become Brandy's #2 friend from here on out, or you won't have anything to do with her. You aren't going to cheat on Brandy, but Brandy might see a way to share you from time to time if she behaves. No more Big Black Cock for her though.'‘Okay,' I felt partially relieved. Now that I had a moment alone, I added, ‘What about Riley?'‘I got her.'‘You?'‘Yes. Me and your Da are going to take her to bed for some pulse-pounding, three-way action,' she grinned like an orca about to devour a baby seal.I had no idea Dad was so; kinky.‘Once I get your Da going, he's quite the animal,' Mom enlightened me. ‘I'll get me and Riley going in the bedroom. When he walks in, he'll protest; like he always does; then he'll come around and; ‘‘Enough, Mom,' I raised my hands. ‘Enough.'She laughed. I retreated to the semi-sanity of Randi Leigh who was waiting on me expectantly.‘Here are the rules,' I began ticking off my points, finger by finger.‘I'm Brandy's boyfriend. If you want to spend time with me you had better become Brandy's #2 best friend.'‘You don't sleep around with anyone else besides me and my brothers without clearing it with us first.'‘You don't pick fights with anyone unless you 'okay' it with myself, or my brothers first.'‘You break the rules three times and we never even talk with you; ever again.'That would have been the point I at which would have expected her to scoff at me at least, possibly slap me, or at least cry as a form of manipulation. Randi Leigh simply nodded. I walked her off the porch to her vehicle. We hugged, but didn't kiss. Afterwards I called Brandy and gave her the basics of what had gone down without explaining the toxic stew which lay behind it.I avoided my family the rest of the night; choosing to go to bed early instead. As I lay reclined on my back, staring out the tall window into the clear, highland night sky, I felt sick to my stomach. Slowly a revelation came to me. What my family had was definitely a curse, not a blessing because it was wed to a sense of conscience and responsibility.I had often thought about why Mom sought out Dad as the 'One' for her, but until that night, never really considered why he had chosen her to be his 'One'. Looking back, I realized it wouldn't have made sense until that point because I didn't have enough pieces of Mom's puzzle. I had the belief Dad sensed the intense pain within Mom's soul and nothing short of the grave, or what he had within him, could soothe her.By Mom's own admission, she was a Wild Child. She would have never settled down. Never had us kids. Never felt the love of a family if Dad hadn't decided to share his genetic curse with her. He'd loved her enough to become her lodestone; the center of her life and to take on all the pain such a position entailed.Everything I knew about my Dad suggested Mom was the Last type of woman he would have wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Dad liked his life calm, quiet and orderly. Mom was the polar opposite of those desires; impulsive, loud and chaotic. I didn't doubt his love for her in the slightest, yet my Father had sacrificed his dreams of tranquility to save my Mother.Why wasn't Mom furious with him over enslaving her to his cock; his magic sperm? She probably had been, once she figured out the family secret; for a short while. Then she realized the import his love had, saw the course her life was taking her down and what she obviously meant to him. But Mom being Mom; she still made him pay with her explosively eccentric behavior and her bizarre tutelage of his boys.And Dad had accepted it all as the price necessary to save my Mother's life; and that was that. Dad could have had any woman he wanted. Any Samsonov man could have. Why weren't we a clan of billionaires then? Why didn't we have oriental-style harems and dozens of mistresses on the side?Because we saw what we possessed as a curse; which we sometimes shared with truly crazy people to give them a real world focus for their lives so they wouldn't finally be consumed by their peculiar forms of madness. My hypothesis certainly fit what I knew about my kinfolk. I took that uneasy psychic compromise with me to my dreams.Wednesday.Wednesday morning, the storm clouds began to gather. The big news was Jewel Lafontanté had dumped Thomas 'Shaka' Sneed, Student Body President. Certain notorious Redneck troublemakers were either absent, or had shown up bruised and battered from last night's rumble with Buck's crew.That wasn't the only bruising going on. Rashaan had gone from one cheerleader to none, to two, to none once more; inside a week. The damage to both his ego and prestige was immense. Into the void stepped a rather brutal individual named Porter Walmsley, the Football Squad's Defensive Team Captain. While he was big, bad and Black, Taliyah and Brandy insisted his thick sausage was also very short; a definite deal-breaker when it came to BBC Mastery.Not to be outdone, Alonzo Hollingsworth, son of the richest (Black) man in Kingston made a play for Taliyah at lunch. He was long on talking solidarity while showing no solidarity with any of the other social 'front-runners'. Taliyah told him she'd 'think about it' in a blatant attempt to rile Mikhail. It didn't, which only soured her mood more.At practice, the Assistant Athletic Director (aka Coach Weasel, aka Coach George Wilcox), named Deon Manley Team Captain. He was (surprise, surprise) Black, in my position (Point Guard) and on record as performing sexual favors for the coach (letting the coach suck his cock).After practice, I got a message; via Brandy; that Jed Lee Earl wanted to talk with me and my brothers. She had to give me the 411. He was from one of Kingston's old White Rich families, led a clique of rich and 'almost rich' White kids and she thought he was gay. Most likely, with Buck on a rampage, he was looking for some 'muscle of his own,' she added with a giggle. I swatted her ass over that one.At least this time we avoided any name calling as we made our exit from school. Alexander was off to Ms. Blanchard's class. Mikhail took Kaja home on his KTM 690 Enduro R motorcycle without argument. I took Monique and Shaquille home (her house actually) with Vicky and Kaelyne tagging along. Brandy and Taliyah took Alondra and Noémie to their homes before the rendezvous at the Fonteneau mansion.The routine cycle resumed: homework, working out, showering, then a small amount of friend time before dinner. Unlike Tuesday, Mikhail was downright responsive to Taliyah; playful if not contrite. Taliyah countered by being friendly to Kaelyne and Vicky. I had my hands full with Brandy the entire time, so I was of no help.Vicky surprised us all by asking to learn a few wrestling and Sambo moves as we migrated to the backyard. I was 'nominated' to be her instructor. Things were complicated by her relative small size (5'2' / 157.5 cm) and mass (98 lbs. / 44.45 kg.). Figuring out all she really wanted to do was grab my cock, or nuts (both clothed) and pinch my nipples took all of thirty seconds.While tickling is not in your regularly accepted repertoire of wrestling moves, I had grown up with two brothers and plenty of young cousins. With my superior reach and strength, Vicky never stood a chance; so Kaelyne rushed in as well. When she proved unable to turn the tide (recall: I'm one of three; triplets), Brandy jumped me as well. This time I had the good sense to go down under their combined might, cry and beg for mercy.Thursday.With Brandy's acquiescence, if not outright permission, I gave Randi Leigh a blowjob opportunity before Home Room on Thursday. Mikhail was in the stall next to mine doing the exact same thing with Alondra. The difference was Alondra left with bounce in her stride and a smile on her face. Randi Leigh was fidgeting and uneasy.We missed Lunch Period, replacing it with a truncated orgy session which included Taliyah and Brandy plus Vantrice Kirby, Mia Ryker and Le 'Pearl' Yates. That left only Noémie Lucie Desdunes (in her case the middle name was a Creole thing) and Amber Lee Huffington, who were both in the B and T camp anyway. We could get them Saturday, or so the plotting went.The (Football) Coach and Principal decided since Friday was a 'home' game, we would have a 'memorial' service for Darius Pope; not that he had actually died, or anything; instead of the standard 'victory' party after the game. Apparently the Principal thought Brandy, as Darius' girlfriend, could help coordinate the function. Help as in work with the suddenly school-active Jewel Lafontanté.The other event was Hell Must Have Frozen Over and Satan had Klansmen shoveling coal like mad while he shivered in his igloo chateau; at least as far as the Kingston and Davis County social scene was concerned. The family of Gayle Fonteneau was invited to dinner at; the house of the Madam Mayor aka Dominique and Chinedu Malik.Her father had broken the hold the Fonteneau's had over the town which once bore their name; but now was Kingston, back in the late 1960's and early 70's, ushering an age of Black Supremacy into this burgh. It hadn't been an easy, or happy, transition either. Generations of Fonteneaus had treated the town as an extension of their own estate and hadn't welcomed the march of democratic progress.My Mom's rape, Uncle Theo's rampage of vengeance, and the resulting cover-up had severed the links between the Fonteneau Clan and the town of Kingston. That was the other, hidden, part of 'The Deal' which saw Uncle Theo going to a military school, not straight-out prison, for the punishment he'd visited on my mother's attackers.It could be argued Mom was now violating the 'corrupt' bargain between old Mayor Fox and Great Aunt Matilda. I also imagined neither ever thought their heirs would ever find 'common cause'. Both were now safely dead and if his daughter, Dominque, was bothered by this, she was doing the opposite of complaining.Had I realized how much Mom was sending Dominque's way, I would have been stunned. Had I realized how little of the Fonteneau fortune her support represented, I'd have cringed. The Fonteneau has been rife with eccentric, often wicked, geniuses for over two centuries.They'd invented and patented stuff, they swindled, robbed and stole from kinfolk, neighbors, towns, tribes, corporations and countries, and they invested that wealth with prescient ability. Unlike other famous American capitalists and industrialists, they hadn't felt obliged to build theater halls, university buildings, or jack-squat to remind the Rest Of The World how rich they'd become.No; they had miserly hoarded their wealth with one family member in each generation getting the lion's share along with the tacit understanding they took care of one another. That had equated to Great-Aunt Matilda being the inheritor in her generation, yet taking care of her sister's children as if they were her own.How much did 'we' have? Mom snorted and told me the Fonteneau never kept all their money in one place; in case something happened. Still, it wasn't like Uncle Cassius in that Indonesian prison didn't have his own 'resources' to keep him safe, or Uncle Theo kept evading prosecution based solely on his military training. Had either of those funds been traced back to our family, there could have been trouble; and those were just two examples of how Great-Aunt Matilda dispersed the family fortune.Anyway, I decided to bring Brandy along as my date/protective shielding. Mikhail laughingly suggested Alexander bring Ms. Blanchard. He suggested Vicky. I suggested Alondra. He scoffed. I suggested we'd need the distraction plus someone we could rely on to keep their mouth shut if something untoward happened (or, in Alondra's case, failed to understand the significance of).After 'dressing up', Mikhail and I had to double-back to school to pick up Brandy, Taliyah and Alondra for dinner. They, and about forty other students, had been shanghaied by Jewel into making the auditorium into a tribute to Darius Pope; odd since I imagined she despised the guy and rejoiced at his departure.‘Hey there,' Jewel greeted us as we entered the largely empty arena. ‘Vlad, is it? Mikhail?'Jewel was a tall (nearly 6 feet) woman with skin a soft shade of brown enhanced with coppery highlights. Currently her long, kinky black hair was worn braided with a mixture of beads and ribbons which 'clacked' when she moved. Her figure was dynamite, more a powerful Amazonian 'C' to Brandy's curvaceous 'D', but an ass just as scrumptious.Her lips were wide and her nose broad, but her most sensual quality, in my eyes, was her smoldering dark eyes; so dark they seemed totally devoid of an iris, yet keenly perceptive and subtly intelligent, surrounded by the longest, most natural-appearing eyelashes I'd ever witnessed.Today she was in a leather, electric blue mini-skirt, white knee socks and a long sleeved, skin-tight white shirt with the torso-sized images of a rampant phoenix and tiger facing one another on both front and back.‘Yes. Vladimir and Mikhail Samsonov, Ms. Lafontanté. A pleasure to meet you,' I stated since we'd never been formerly introduced. Likewise, I'd been raised a gentleman who waited for a lady to offer her hand to be shaken before a man shook it.She gave me an appraising, almost predatory, up-and-down gaze.‘Call me Jewel,' she extended me her hand.‘Vlad!' Brandy called out. Her someone must be trying to poach my Man sense must have gone off because I was definitely getting that sensation as her fingertips played across my fingers and palm before we shook hands. She had a confident, solid grip.‘Princess,' I was continuing to 'test drive' Brandy's pet name as I looked around Jewel.‘We are almost done,' Jewel shifted so as to interrupt my view (almost worked; but I was taller than she was).‘Let me help then,' I offered, even as I realized she hadn't let go of my hand yet.‘I'm planning on it,' she smirked, then released my hand and spun quickly around.‘Alright!' she addressed the room, the word accentuated with a sharp clap of her hands. ‘Let's finish getting those banners hung; Brandy?'Brandy was decidedly ignoring Jewel by throwing herself into my embrace and including an impressive, tongue-hungry lip-lock. 'Umm; tasty'. I kept her off the ground, so she decide to kick up both her legs until her heels almost touched her buttocks. When our mouths separated, she gave off a breathless giggle.‘Strawberry?' I questioned the flavor of her lip balm.‘Yes,' she grinned. With exaggerated slowness, Brandy turned to Jewel. ‘Almost done, Jefe?'‘So Jewel, I understand your regular cock wasn't getting the job done,' were the first words out of Mikhail's mouth; the Jackass! The assumption was he was referencing her dumping her last boyfriend; who was also here tonight.‘Mikhail!' Brandy gawked.‘Damn it, Mikhail,' I pivoted and glared at him.‘You auditioning for the job?' Jewel took a provocative pose. So much for the possibility of being offended. It was at times like this I didn't get women at all.‘I'm willing to put you in my rotation,' he bantered back courageously.‘What is mine, is mine. I don't share,' Jewel volleyed.‘You won't be the first Top Bitch I've had to deal with. Won't be the last,' he chuckled.‘Am I 'your type'?'‘Babe, you are hitting on all cylinders; you're smart, fierce, built like a true athlete; plus you think you are better than me,' he leered.‘I'm AM better than you, Samsonov.'‘By all means,' he took two steps her way. ‘Prove it.'‘Mikhail, we are here to retrieve our dates and go to dinner with our parents,' I reminded him. ‘Speaking of which; where are Taliyah and Alondra?'‘Which one of you is dating Alondra?' Jewel scoffed. With the way she said 'Alondra' she might as well have said 'The Chihuahua'. I put Brandy down.‘Alexander,' Brandy simmered. ‘They bonded over having a soul; unlike some people.' Gosh, that was awful feisty of Brandy. ‘Vlad, they went to get some colored light filters for the spotlights. They should be back soon.'‘Hey now,' I patted Brandy's ass. ‘Needless hostility isn't getting the work done.' I used that hand on the ass to press her against my hard-on to remind her of our primal connection.Her eyes flashed up, she gave me a salacious look, two hip wiggles, and then sauntered off to complete whatever project she was assigned. I tagged along because I both liked that ass and decided keeping close to her was my best bet to stay safe. Jewel directed Mikhail to help with something else. When Taliyah returned with Alondra and Misty Dawn in tow (along with several boxes of something), she immediately alerted to his distraction.She gave him no warning of her approach. Unfortunately for her, growing up triplets left us all a bit hyper-situationally aware and always ready for some rough and tumble, so Mikhail clued into the impending threat right before Taliyah repeated her Charlie Horse from Hell. Instead, he caught her blow, pulling her in and pinning one of her arms behind her back.‘Care to explain that?' Mikhail mused; 'that' being the incoming pain.‘I saw you scoping her out,' Taliyah sizzled.‘Well-duh,' he snorted, ‘but I wasn't touching, or anything.'‘You'd better not be.'‘Don't you have some work to do?' Jewel intervened.‘Yeah; if this Neanderthal would unhand me; ‘‘You going to take another swing at me?'‘You going to give me a reason to remind you to behave?' Taliyah snapped.‘Most likely,' my triplet shrugged then let her go.‘Come on Alondra,' Taliyah called over to the cheerleader. They went off to stack up the proper colored light filters by the various spot lights. The actual work would be done by the custodial staff sometime tomorrow.Soon enough we finished all our assignments. Jewel's No. 1 minion; a short, Sepia-complexioned, sharp-looking young lady named Dana Owens; checked off each completed item on her tablet as the group leaders reported to Jewel. She ran a very tight, almost scarily-so, regime. Notable absent were the student-athletes.Notably present was Jewel's ex-boyfriend, Shaka Sneed. He was handsome enough, chestnut-hued, slight acne-scarring along his cheeks with lighting-bolts cut on each side of his more-on-top, closer-cropped-on-the-side/back curly hair. He was right as 6' and broad enough in the chest and narrow enough in the hip to suggest he worked out once, or twice, a week, but his attempt to physically intimidate Mikhail was woefully ill-considered.His shiny, black tennis shoes, dark-grey slacks and black t-shirt were all top quality and tight enough to suggest he was 'aroused', but he was playing out of his league when comparing himself to any of us. Clearly not every BBC stud was packing a 10' Passion Piston inside his boxers and with all the hot chicks Jewel had assembled, it would have been pretty discernable it he'd had one.‘I don't like the way you were talking to Jewel,' he approached my brother as we were exiting the school.With so many polite replies to choose from and a proper dinner to get to; ‘What are you going to do about it?' we turned and regarded him.‘I; ah; ‘ Shaka stammered. Open, obvious defiance wasn't what he expected, despite some of the clear signs we Samsonovs weren't playing by the established rules.‘Listen up, Shaky,' Mikhail feigned annoyance, ‘I've got a dinner to go to. If all you are going to do is spit at me, I'm going to get to it. I'll catch up with you at lunch tomorrow and we'll settle Jewel's perceptions of your penile inadequacies then.'‘It is Shaka,' he insisted angrily.‘Whatever,' Mikhail shrugged.‘I'm going to inform Principal Jean-Georges of your threats,' Shaka pledged.‘What threats?' Mikhail gave a lopsided grin.‘You threatened to fight me at lunch tomorrow,' he looked left then right. We had quite a gathering. Since none of them looked ready to fight, it wasn't a problem.‘My exact words,' my triplet sounded bored, ‘we'll settle Jewel's perceptions of your penile inadequacies. Not once did I mention the words 'fight', punishment, or violence of any kind, Shaky.'‘It is Shaka!' he growled.‘It is Thomas,' Jewel announced in an amused tone. She'd been locking up.‘Shaky's real name is Thomas?' Mikhail's gaze settled on Jewel. ‘Why the fuck did he pick a shitty nickname like Shaky when he had a perfectly good name like Thomas to go by?'‘It Is Shaka; you pinhead!' Shaka shouted.‘Shaka? What kind of lame name is that?' Mikhail mocked him.‘It is Zulu, you dumbass cracker,' he glared.‘Why didn't you pick a more relevant name; like; Vlad, help me out here?' Mikhail's countenance lost all its humor.‘Like Agaja, Askia, Ewuare, or Samori?' I supplied some viable alternatives.‘Yeah; them. You know; West African war leaders you might have some relation to as opposed to a South African butcher who is as likely related to you as I am to Christopher Columbus, you dumbass nigger.'Silence.A White Boy had called a Black Man a 'nigger' and not just the 'n-word'.‘What did you call me?' Shaka puffed himself up.‘Whatever was the appropriate abusive racial insulting counter to 'cracker', pencil-dick,' Mikhail huffed.‘Say it.'‘Shaky.'‘You little bitch,' he said in a low voice.‘I promised we'd revisit your penile inadequacies at lunch tomorrow, Shaky, not now. If you are not going to 'jump', I've got a dinner to go to.'‘Chicken-shit.'‘I really don't have the time to go down the long list of all the things Jewel called you as she kicked you out of bed, Shaky; ‘ and then Shaka shoved him.‘That'll do, Pig. That'll do,' Mikhail chortled. He was getting ready to fight. We really didn't have the time to clean up this mess; I had no doubt Mikhail would destroy Shaka in ten seconds flat. The problem was we'd have to stick around and deal with the fallout which was time we didn't have.‘Enough,' Jewel intervened both verbally and vocally. She had two of her ladies backing her up. I had a firm hand on Mikhail's shoulder as a reminder we had to be elsewhere. ‘Shaka, I thought better of you,' she looked at her ex. ‘He's playing you.'‘You've been playing with him,' Shaka countered.‘Even if I was; which I was not (she wasn't?), I'm not your property, or your woman,' she sneered. ‘You are pathetic. I dumped you because I know I can do better.'Ouch! That was harsh.‘No; you can't,' Taliyah spoke up aka demarcating Mikhail. ‘Not while I'm standing.'‘Damn you, Jewel,' Shaka grabbed his former girl by the arm. ‘I; ‘And then she laid into him. I was pretty sure it was elbow to the solar plexus, a stomp on the instep and then an arm grab into judo flip, but head-over-heels Shaka went. I say 'pretty sure' because it was dusk and Jewel move freaky-fast. Shaka had been completely flipped over onto his back in that final, fluid move.Even though Jewel still had a painful hold of his wrist, it was clear Shaka was out of the fight. Any sane combatant would have stopped at that point. Not Jewel. Up came her foot and down came that heel on his crotch. Shaka hissed like a punctured Zeppelin. Every single guy who witnessed the blow recoiled instinctively in sympathetic agony as well. Not to be outdone though;‘I guess Shaka Zulu is now just another Bushman Brother,' Mikhail quipped jokingly.‘You are useless,' Taliyah began to drag him away.‘How is any of this my fault?' Mikhail laughed. ‘I didn't lay a hand on him.'‘You opened your fool-mouth,' she groused. She was dragging him off though.‘Alright everyone!' Jewel announced. ‘Time to go home.'Quickly enough there were only nine of us left standing there; Jewel, her six posse members, me and Brandy. Alondra had retreated with Taliyah and Mikhail. Shaka was still on the ground, hands cupping his tenderized privates.‘Yes?' Jewel tilted her head as she examined me.‘I'm hanging around to make sure Shaka makes it to his car okay.'‘I'll see to it.'‘I'll wait.'‘I said I'll see to it,' she reiterated as her eyes narrowed.‘Vlad, let's go,' Brandy tugged on my dress jacket.‘I heard you the first time, Ms. Lafontanté. You are also the one who put him in his current incapacitated condition, so I am going to stick around until I know he can take care of himself.'‘Do you think you can take me?' she shifted into a fighting stance; all subtle-like.‘I don't know. It isn't about me thinking I can beat you up. It is about not leaving any person at the mercy of those who would do them harm,' I explained coolly.‘Really?' she blinked.‘Really.'‘And if I tell you to get lost, or else?'I heard a car trunk shut rather gently; it was the 'click' of the lock engaging. Then came the crunch of the loose gravel on asphalt as my brother returned. Jewel's eyes shifted passed me, to him then back to me.‘You were stalling for time?'‘Pretty much,' I relaxed minutely.‘Here you go,' Mikhail handed me a padded, rattan practice broadsword. He had another broadsword plus a targe, a 20' diameter shield of Scottish origin).‘It is still seven on two odds.' from Jewel.‘We'll fight,' Brandy stated defensively.‘You and I ~' Taliyah directly addressed Jewel.‘Means nothing,' Jewel snorted. I could virtually see her work out the fight in her mind, going over and then discarding the various possibilities and resulting outcomes. Too many left her and hers with too many welts and bruises (rattan swords really sting) without a completely positive outcome.‘You don't even like him,' she motioned to the still moaning Shaka.‘That never matters,' Mikhail shrugged. ‘The moment you stomped on Shaky's peanuts, I knew Vlad wouldn't leave him here; at your mercy; so here we are.'‘Vlad?' Jewel searched my eyes for answers.‘Right is right and wrong is wrong,' I responded. ‘There is just and unjust punishment. You had every right to throw Mr. Sneed to the ground.'‘The heel to the groin was excessive,' I could hear myself channeling my Father. ‘At that point, he became a victim too. As my Brother said, I couldn't leave him at your mercy uncertain of your intentions.'‘So you do think you can take me,' she grinned like a Moray eel.‘I was really unsure until my Brother put this practice sword in my hand and returned to my side,' I related. ‘Even now, I'm not 100% positive. I've never witnessed your style of marital arts and you are certainly very good. Tha

The Music Room.Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.  ‘My, oh my,' Taliyah murmured. She had felt the two Samsonov boys pressing in on her, Mikhail behind her and Vlad to the front. She hoped she had them right. With her heart racing and her fervor rising, she wasn't 100% sure. ‘Mikhail,' she looked over her shoulder as she moved her ass up and down his crotch, ‘this is only for you.' Her declaration was in a throaty moan.‘That's unfair,' I chuckled to Taliyah.‘Don't worry,' her head tilted up, ‘I know some tricks Brandy doesn't know.' I didn't know if that was true, or not. Finding out would be fun. I kissed her on the lips. At the same time, my brother nipped down on her shirt-covered shoulder.‘Don't be cruel,' he teased her. ‘You know he was sneaking peeks at the lodge.'‘My body; my rules,' Taliyah insisted somewhat breathlessly.‘Okay. I'll work on changing your mind,' I growled before diving in for another kiss. Our tongues battled. Taliyah placed her hands on either side of my chin, taking control of our passion. In doing so, I sensed her reticence quickly passing.‘Y'alls first time with one girl?' she purred when we came up for air. She knew it was, so I was left trying to figure out her game.For Taliyah this was a totally new experience too. The sense she had such a level of control over the masculine power encompassing her was dizzying. She hated to admit it, but looking into Vlad's eyes felt nice. His gaze was focused on her. His perceptions were seeking out her reactions and her responses, not still hooked on Brandy.In the back of her mind had been the gnawing fear she was a substitute fuck; a Brandy-surrogate in Vlad's mind. She saw none of that. His attention was eating her up and it made her so fucking hot. Even more thrilling: she was soaked, breathing heavy and trembling; and they all three still had their damn clothes on!Taliyah's fingers began fumbling with my belt.‘We've got time,' I stroked her cheek. I caught a quick signal from Mikhail. We both dove down for opposite sides of her neck, suckling, licking and nibbling on her tense muscles from collar to ear lobe. In the process, I managed to pull her shirt out of her skirt; she got my belt buckle undone. Synching our oral attacks with working our shoes off with foot-action alone, we then went straight to loosening our belts and; front first (aka me); yanked off our jeans and underwear in one brutal maneuver.‘Ah,' Taliyah gasped as my lips and tongue played along the crux of her windpipe and chin, ‘you two practice that much?'‘Yeah,' Mikhail chortled. ‘We do.'Taliyah's hand on my shoulders caused me to bring about a pause in our actions.‘Seriously?' she looked over her shoulder at my vigorous triplet.‘Why would I make up something so bizarre?' was his take on things. I could tell Taliyah 'wanted' to know more. But she simply wanted more of us both right now and figured she could interrogate us about our unusual sexual indoctrination later; post-coitus. They began kissing and their kisses became an oral battle replete with growls, rumbles and other hungry sounds.I took the distraction to rapidly unbutton Taliyah's shirt, pull it open and; Lord Hallelujah!; she had on a front-opening bra; and unleash her 'puppies'. I had talked about her preferences with neither Mikhail nor Brandy, but I'd witnessed and rewound (hey, I'm 18 years old) the footage of the lakeside orgy enough times to know she liked her nipples played with.‘Uh; uh; uh; ah; ‘ the dark-skinned beauty moaned. ‘Are you two telepathic?' she said in response to our hands reaching inside her panties and moving along her vulva and perineum, coming at her from different directions at the same time. I wasn't quite sure what inspired us; I put my thumb upon her aroused clit; it felt almost the size of the first digit of my pinkie; and reached around to insert my ring finger against her sphincter.At the same time, Mikhail was working his thumb up her bunghole and rubbing his forefinger into her vagina. She was already wet and getting wetter by the second. By the oily texture of my brother's digits, he'd somehow snuck some lubricant on them while our partner was distracted.The combination of our height differentials, our ministrations and her obvious pleasure forced my brother and I to go to our knees.‘Oh God! I need a picture of this,' Taliyah exulted. ‘Both of you on your knees around me.'‘I promise,' I looked up, ‘we'll do this again.'‘You'd better,' she beamed, looking down at me, wreathed in a cocktail of majesty and carnality. She added to that image by cupping her left breast into a mouth-watering mound. No words were necessary. I licked the rich, dark brown areola before latching onto her stubby, darker nipple. My thumb and finger were working in tandem with Mikhail's over her cunt and anus to bring her to fruition.Taliyah was struggling to keep it together. She fed her other breast to Vlad who attentively latched on and began applying a tantalizing level of suction which was driving her wild.‘Cut loose, Babe,' Mikhail whispered into her ear. He was rising back to his feet at the same time his right hand began to furiously frig her.She shot him a foul look over her shoulder.'As if he can tell me what and when I can; ' she thought to herself.‘We are in a soundproof room for a reason,' he grinned. She sensed the connection. He wasn't out to steal anything from her. Her lover was famished for even more of her sensuality and that desire was showing through. Taliyah looked heavenward; and then Howled!Emptiness Fourth Period Bell.Sultana Berry stumbled into the front of the room first. We were on our knees; Mikhail had his back to the newcomers, Taliyah was on all-fours with Mikhail doing her cunt from behind while she was giving me yet another blowjob. I was looking right at Sultana and the other cheerleaders as they entered.‘I hope this doesn't take too long,' Sultana got out, ‘because I'd; ‘ and her head turned from looking over her shoulder at her fellow cheerleaders in the hallway to the three of us a dozen feet away.‘Holy Shit!' she exclaimed.‘What?' wondered Randi Leigh who was right behind Sultana. Before she could comment, Alondra Lamb, stumbled in, with Brandy herding her and Betty Jo Starling ahead of her. ‘Oh fuck,' gasped Randi Leigh, her surprise turning quickly vindictive, ‘Brandy, your guy seems to be fucking your best friend.'Alondra scanned around seeking direction. Sultana's eyes flicked to Brandy before latching back onto my 'midsection' as Taliyah unleashed my cock from her lips allowing it to sort of sway there; hypnotically.‘'Bout time you got here,' Taliyah slurred happily to Brandy. ‘I'm tapping out.'With that, she slouched down on her left side, head resting on her biceps, serene smile on her face. Earlier we'd spread out the piano cover so we didn't have to deal with the much colder floor. Even as Mikhail let her down gently, his tool came free with a loud 'plop!', revealing its rock-hard, 'full mast' status.‘Hey Brandy, what is Randi Leigh doing here?' I beamed lust-filled affection at my girlfriend. ‘I thought you said she wasn't invited.' According to my Mother (the Evil Psychic Mistress of Misdirection), insinuating to one girl another woman didn't want you close by 'her man' made her want to get close to you. It didn't make much sense to me, but then what did I know about women? Sure enough, Randi Leigh shot Brandy an evil look.Mikhail extended his sweaty body over Taliyah, planted a few feather-light kisses on her shoulder and ear then rose up, right leg first. He quarter-turned their way.‘Alondra,' he emoted wolfishly. The smoky hot young lady blinked in surprise then pointed to herself as if to affirm she was the one he was talking to; as if there was another Alondra in this High School. There wasn't.‘Come here,' he beckoned her with a finger.‘Me?' she gulped.‘I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you,' Mikhail rumbled.‘Me?' she repeated. Alondra wasn't going to win any debates with that level of verbal repertoire.‘Hold on now,' Sultana interposed herself, facing her ladies. Her mistake was taking her eyes off my brother.‘But I think he needs help getting dressed,' Alondra tried to explain. How cute.‘Brandy, what's going on here?' Sultana was looking past Alondra to the Team Co-Captain. Mikhail snuck up on Sultana quickly and quietly. I was right behind him. Randi Leigh was trying to get Sultana's attention. Too late. He moved straight into Sultana's back, driving her face to face with Alondra.‘So you think you are better than Taliyah, do you?' he breathed into Sultana's ear. She recoiled as much as she could, putting a weak elbow into his ribs. She was only partially effective in turning around. For my part, I slipped around them and went directly into Randi Leigh's personal space. Take into account both my brother and I were naked, glistening with sweat, and highly aroused;‘Randi Leigh (apparently middle names were important in cases such as this), why doesn't Brandy want you and I hanging out?' I lied.‘I never said that,' Brandy protested. If someone I had known for more than half my life told me one thing and a near-stranger told me the opposite, I would believe the person I knew well. Mom insisted Randi wouldn't believe Brandy;‘Sure you didn't,' Randi Leigh simmered while reaching down and wrapping a hand around my cock. She gave me a little yank. ‘Not bad.'‘Get off me!' Sultana demanded of Mikhail. She got her wish. Mikhail moved her aside and went after Alondra. He astonished everyone by cupping the chestnut-complexioned girl's jaw romantically in both hands and placing a kiss on her lips.‘Fucking fantastic,' he purred, then went in pursuit of a far more brutal and demanding lip-lock which took hostage the air from deep within Alondra's lungs.‘Hey,' Sultana protested. ‘Stop that.' She tried to separate my brother from his prey. Alondra complicated the issue by entwining one arm behind his head and the other around his waist, keeping him close. Wanton moans echoed from her unfathomed sensual core.Randi Leigh drank in the scene.‘I'm Rashaan's girl now,' she grinned up at me, hand still on my rod.‘I'm not going to tell him a damn thing,' I looked down at her. My left hand went along her right elbow to her shoulder all friendly-like. When Randi Leigh didn't resist, I moved my right from her hip to her ass and began bringing her close.‘I'm not going to fuck you,' her lips insisted at the same time her hand began jacking me off. ‘I don't do White guys.'‘Does cunnilingus count?' I whispered into her ear.‘Ah; ‘ she murmured. ‘Maybe not,' she finished off with a foxy grin of her own.I could begin to see the calculations going off behind those eyes. Perhaps; just perhaps; there was a reason Brandy had risked Darius' wrath to fuck me; on multiple occasions. I let my hand on her ass creep to her cleft.‘Clothes,' I teased her; as she had me on too many occasions. Meanwhile;‘Brandy?' Sultana looked to the functioning Co-Captain for intervention. Brandy had already kicked off her tennis shoes and was currently stripping down out of her jeans and panties. She was also still by the door. Only later would I realize it was because she'd sent Misty Dawn and Betty Jo Starling to escort a semi-crippled Alexander here and the door was locked, so they would need to be let in; thus necessitating her remaining close to the door.Brandy's allies on the squad, Noémie and Amber Lee, were keeping three 'opposing' cheerleaders (Vantrice, Mia and Pearl) preoccupied this lunch period. Dealing with five new cheerleaders would be stressing the three of us guys to our limits. In theory, I guessed that meant we'd pick those other five off later in the week, or on Saturday at Brandy's house.‘Taliyah and I can't keep up with these three,' Brandy exaggerated. ‘I was hoping y'all could help out this one time. Please?'‘But; ‘ Sultana sputtered. I was willing to bet 'they're White' almost spilled forth. But she spared another look to the sexually sated Taliyah instead.‘By all means, leave my Man alone,' Taliyah threatened, then yawned, stretching out like a savannah lioness. ‘I'll leave you Rashaan.'According to Mom, that wasn't an offer, it was a challenge; for Sultana to go after Mikhail. To my naïve way of thinking, he could have made it easier by switching his attention from Alondra to Sultana, who was the more dominant woman anyway. Not only was that 'not' Mikhail, it wasn't what a man did if he wanted a woman's interest. We; the men; had to play hard to get.I'd told Mom I preferred honesty. She'd told me to keep my preferences to myself and do what I was told; and I would somehow end up happier. I truly believe my Mom loves me, so I went along with her madcap advice. It worked gang-busters. The more Mikhail persisted in focusing on Alondra, the harder Sultana worked on enticing and seducing him; because he was a bastard?In comparison, I had it easier. Brandy was clearly horny for me and Randi Leigh got off on thwarting Brandy's lusts by corralling my attentions with her body motions. The more frustrated Brandy became, the more Randi Leigh's inhibitions flew out the window. She had me on my back, hand still on my cock as she guided it into her steamy folds in under two minutes. Putting on a condom? 'No time for that,' or so she claimed. Funny. I thought we had fifty minutes.Here I was feeling bad about leaving Brandy out and here she was with her triumphant smile from over Randi Leigh's shoulder. She had totally suckered Randi Leigh and me with her passionate resistance. She mouthed 'I love you' before scampering off to get the door. Alexander, Misty Dawn and Betty Jo had arrived.Under anything approaching normal group dynamics, at least one of the young ladies could have been expected to bolt this unusual erotic encounter; however the Cheer Squad was used to their Lunch Time and post-Practice orgies. In the immediate post-Darius Era, they hadn't been getting any and suddenly they had three hunky, hot and ready (even if White) guys in front of them, willing to perform.Alexander had it the easiest. He was 'infirm', so Misty Dawn decided to transfer all the gratitude she had for me not getting into a slugfest with Cousin Buck in the Parking Lot this morning to him, thus lavishing him with some intense, solo loving care. Betty Jo, momentarily at loose ends, was called over to Mikhail by Alondra, who insisted she was still trying to get him dressed;If Mikhail felt any reticence over reliving the sexual exploits of his Varangian ancestors, he didn't show it in the slightest. He soon had Alondra and Betty Jo kneeling with their haunches on their heels, licking his balls and cock-shaft while Sultana stood by his side, kissing him longingly as he massaged her pubic mound; no penetration yet. It took me a few seconds to realize he was teasing her; plus, he was able to pat the kneeling lasses on their heads when they particularly pleased him. What a fortuitous pig.I didn't have the time to verbally chastise him. As I began to work in and out of Randi Leigh's love box, twisting my hips during every intrusion, looking to increase her stimulations, she began to get really responsive and incredibly vocal. The combination of the 'aphrodisiacs' Mom had given us, plus my interrupted blowjob with Taliyah, prompted me to begin ejaculating into her womb. Whoops!‘Ugh; ugh; ugh; ugh; ugh; ugh --ugh-ugh-uh-uh-ug!' escaped from her lips and then she went off like no woman I'd ever seen before. Randi Leigh was acting as if she was having a seizure. Her long, brunette hair, normally in a ponytail, but worn loose today, whipped around her head as she thrashed and jerked atop of me. Fingernails drew bloody rivets across my pectorals as her hands scarred me from collar to mid-stomach.Her mahogany skin (she was White, but well-tanned) was more flushed than normal, her small nipples were a bright crimson within her rich reddish-brown half-dollar-sized areolas equally blood-flushed and puff. Her breathing came in staggered gasps. Then she completely locked up perpendicular to my waist, back bowed and her face finally ending up staring down at me in disbelief.All I could think of, looking back up at her, trying to make sense of the electricity spreading like fire through her veins was; 'if you figure out what I just did to you, please let me know what it was; because I may want to be more careful who I do it to in the future'.‘Uwee; ‘ escaped from her tightly constricted airways right before Randi Leigh's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed on my chest, utterly spent.‘Brandy?' I looked past the unconscious woman on my chest toward my vastly more experienced lover. She looked stunned. The rest of the room was quiet.‘I think; that was Randi Leigh; having an orgasm,' Brandy gasped.‘You go, Bro!' Mikhail saluted me, slamming his closed-fist over his heart; twice. With the way the three women were looking at him, he should have been more careful. I suspected they were expecting the same treatment.‘Are you sure you are okay with having sex?' Misty Dawn inquired of Alexander, even as she started yanking his pants down.‘For you; sure. I'll get my belt,' he gently caressed her cheek, ‘if you could get my shoes?'I had to push Randi Leigh up, then maneuver us around so I could carry the still blissfully unaware Randi Leigh to the piano cover to be lain beside Taliyah before returning my attentions to Brandy. I caught sight of some worry in her eyes until she realized my eyes were nearly bugged out of my head and my cock was throbbing upright and returning to duty; her completely naked body had that effect on me.‘Oh,' she giggled. ‘You're hurt.'‘It'll heal,' I ignored the pain. We met halfway. My hands went to her right breast and left face cheek to steer her head up to a kiss. Hers went to my cock; still no condom. So much for 'safe' sex.‘Ladies, Sultana's going to ruin our fun, so I gotta take care of her first before I can get back to the both of you,' Mikhail boasted.‘You think so?' Sultana Berry put forth with provocative bravado.‘Yeah,' Mikhail snorted. ‘Alondra and Betty Jo like me, so I'd like to spend some quality time with them. You'd like to think you are better than me, but we both know you aren't. So I'm about to prove it to you.'Seriously? Isn't this the moment the woman slaps the man in the face, throws a drink at him, calls him an 'asshole' (or something even less flattering), then storms out?‘I'm going to ruin you for every other women you ever try to get with,' Sultana rose to the challenge.Okay then;‘If she wasn't such a bitch,' Brandy whispered to me as she followed me to the floor, her riding me cowgirl, ‘I'd warn her.'All I could do was grunt.‘What was that?' Brandy's brow furrowed and her cute nose twitched.Had my Mother not told me this would happen; scary and far beyond weird; I would have thought I was doing something wrong. This was Brandy seeking affirmation.‘You; above me; every time it is so wonderful and new, Brandy Crystal Carson,' I replied in a soft, rich romantic voice. Just because I knew the question was coming, didn't mean I'd rehearsed a response. I went with my gut and by Brandy's near-tearful reaction, I was right on the money. Brandy leaned in, squishing her breasts against me and gave me a famished kiss.‘I feel the same way,' she murmured.‘You like blonde-haired girls with big boobs sitting on top of you too?' I joked.‘Oh,' she sat up, feigning indignation well, ‘Poo!' then she smacked my chest. Then, to further punish me, she flexed her thighs; going up and down; and undulated her vaginal walls; to give my cock a very friendly 'welcome back'.'Yikes!' Man, but that felt really good. Brandy clued in to my pleasure and was looking a bit too pleased with herself, so I pushed up with one arm and went like a lamprey for her right breast.‘Hey!' she gasped. ‘Not so rough.' Which meant 'keep at it'. ‘I said not so rough, Vlad. I'm a bit tender,' she sighed happily, reinforcing her misdirection by placing a hand on the back of my head, keeping my lips and teeth tight to her tit.'Nom-nom-nom-nom,' I happily suckled along for six, or seven minutes until;‘Hey y'all,' Alondra appeared above me/us. ‘Can I join in?'Reluctantly I released Brandy's mammary to get a quick peek at what Mikhail was up to.He was going for some hot-muff action on Sultana where she lay on top of the piano, which was, in turn, on the elevated stage. Her legs were upraised in a 'V' with her hands holding the back of each knee to hold the pose. My brother was alternating between kisses to her clit and slit and teasing her labia with his tongue and teeth; gentle-like for now. When he figured out her sensitive spots, he'd be doubling down on them rapid-fire soon enough.‘Unless my Princess claws me like a scratching post; Hell ya!' I grinned. That was a concession to my Lady's #1 status without making me sound cunt-whipped. Brandy gave a playful harrumph married to her own saucy smile. The problem was;‘Princess? Who is that?' Alondra struggled to concentrate.‘Me,' Brandy seductively wiggled off my cock. ‘He's my Prince, so I'm his Princess.'‘Oh! Like Disney?' Alondra beamed innocent understanding. ‘That's so cool.'‘Yeah,' Brandy shot me a wink. ‘Like Disney. Here, have a seat and share in the 'magic'.'‘Oh goodie!' the tawny athlete mounted my cock which Brandy was 'kind' enough to hold erect for her. She wasn't tight, but, to be honest, Alondra was snugger than my first time with Brandy; which was a thought I'd take to my grave. Her toes were on the floor, knees off the ground, gymnast's thighs like coiled springs and hands splayed on my chest; she got to bounding up and down.‘Yay!' At least I was making someone definitely happy. When I made eye contact; I; felt for Alondra. She had one; no; two marketable commodities; her exotic good looks and a willingness to work hard. Cheerleading was as much of a demanding sport as basketball. She knew the Cheer Squad's routines, and with her limited intellect, that had to mean she truly applied herself when given the chance.What Alondra needed was good friends; and someone, right now, to fuck her.‘I've never fucked a White guy before,' she blithely informed me. ‘I thought you'd be; smaller.'‘Vlad is full of surprises,' Brandy moved to my side, still smiling.‘Don't let me neglect you, Babe,' I offered. She knew what I was saying and took me up on the suggesting.She made a production of standing over my head, facing Alondra then slowly lowering herself down to my waiting mouth.‘How's he going to breath?' Alondra inquired.‘He's got great lungs,' Brandy answered. My tongue was busy sculpting out her vulva and penetrating her labia.My right hand went around the back to massage a luscious ass cheek and tickler her along her tailbone. Then the left went up and rediscovered her breasts. I could almost hate my Mother for keeping us from sex for so long; almost. To be fair, she'd also helped train us to be aggressive, appreciative and attentive lovers.It wasn't like the BBC Masters didn't do cunnilingus. Some did. The difference was we approached it as a facet of a full-on orgasmic orchestra. It wasn't just licking and sucking that clit, or labia pulling. Depending on the partner, it was spreading your attention along the upper thighs, pubic mound perineum and buttocks.Fingers, lips, tongue, nose and even whiskers could be parts of our arsenals. Keep all your senses focused on your lover as well. A twinge, chance in scent, or a stifled gasp could all be clues to what secretly turned them on. Thankfully for this encounter, I already knew Brandy pretty well and Alondra wasn't overly demanding. She wanted a nice, stiff cock and I gave her that in spades; no pun intended.‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,' Sultana began hissing. Taliyah had done wonders for Mikhail's confidence which rebounded into this pattern of quickly overwhelming whatever mental defenses she tried to put up between him and the climax he wished to tear from her.‘Oh Fuck!' she screamed. Yep. Mom's choice of the sound-proof Music Room was prescient.‘Oh; ‘ she moaned. ‘Wait; ‘‘No way,' Mikhail taunted her. ‘I'm not going to stop until you say you'll only do White boys.' Pretty much a complete race reversal, and cruelly pointless.‘Not going to; Oh Fuck!' she began to caterwaul again. I couldn't see what he was doing, but by the sound of moist slapping, I figured he had advanced to screwing her face-to-face and furiously hard.‘What's going on?' Randi Leigh finally rejoined the gathering.‘He fucked you into transcendence, you silly Cunt,' Taliyah mocked the girl.‘I; ah; it wasn't; ‘ Randi Leigh blathered.‘Don't even try,' Taliyah chuckled.‘By all means,' I could feel Brandy twist her upper body around, ‘if you never want to fuck my guy ever again; ‘‘Or mine,' Taliyah tacked on.‘Any of the Samsonov boys ever again,' Brandy dictated, ‘that's fine by me; us.'‘That's damn right,' Taliyah added.‘Oh; I'm getting all tingly,' Alondra sang out.‘When is it going to be my turn?' I had no doubt Betty Jo was pouting over her exclusion by Mikhail's devotion to Sultana.‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,' became a familiar refrain. ‘Oh Fuck!' and Sultana surrendered another orgasm to my bratty younger triplet. ‘No; ‘ she panted.‘Don't break her,' Taliyah sounded a tad jealous as well as cautionary.‘Say it,' he growled.‘Ah; ‘ was all Sultana could emote.‘Say it,' he remained ferocious. I felt obliged to tap Brandy's thigh. She was closing on her own fruition, but I wasn't sure Sultana had the time.‘Give it a rest,' Alexander protested.Brandy dismounted. Mikhail hadn't relented yet.‘Bro, Alondra's over here; dying for a three-way,' I tried a different approach. I wasn't going to swap out Alondra for Betty Jo; that would be treating the ladies like mix-and-match Legos. Betty Jo was still the only girl-neglected, but I knew from our earlier conversation Mikhail had a special hankering for Alondra; which I couldn't bring up directly without being cruel to Taliyah.Mikhail looked over his shoulder, his body still hovering over the slack form of a sated Sultana. His look was volcanic; primal, fiery;‘We aren't done,' was his parting shot to Sultana. Betty Jo was still on her knees where he'd left her. Mikhail didn't spare her a glance, advancing swiftly to us.Meanwhile;‘I do? I am?' Alondra hiccupped both surprised and happy with 'her' suggestion.For a second I was afraid Mikhail would go directly for a face-fuck. Alondra was certainly set up for it. Instead, at the last second he went in for a deep French kiss full of tongue, mutual nose-breathing and finishing with his teeth pulling playfully on her upper lip.‘I'm bouncing on your brother,' Alondra gleefully, breathlessly and pointlessly related.‘I can see,' he chuckled. My youngest triplet didn't have to be an asshole. ‘I think I'm going to be pouncing on you.'Alondra had no comeback. My bet was she didn't know what 'pounce' meant. Mikhail moved behind the medium-brown beauty. It occurred to me the deeply-tanned Brandy and natural-complexioned Alondra were virtually the same skin color.Otherwise they were different enough. Brandy was a natural blonde. Alondra had kinky, black hair with blonde highlights. One with dark-blue eyes and the other hazel. Alondra was taller by a few inches. Brandy had the larger bust and hips. Alondra's buttocks were accentuated to the top while Brandy's were more balanced hemispheres. I couldn't tell whose smile I liked more.‘I like White boys,' she huffed as a way of greeting Mikhail's transition from 'kisser' to man-boy pressing in behind her. There was no way he was going for her ass without causing her a great deal of pain. He had another idea.‘Seesaw?' he looked over her shoulder. Oh!I put my hands under each of her thighs and lifted her up and forward.‘Eep!' she squeaked followed by ‘Hey; No,' when my cock popped out.‘Here you go,' Mikhail soothed her. In his cock went.‘Oh yeah,' she was immediately mollified.‘Why does she get two of them?' Betty Jo complained.‘Yeah,' Randi Leigh grumbled. ‘Why does she get both of them?'‘Because she asked really, really nice,' Mikhail addressed the others. Brandy shot me a curious look. Since she had her back to the others I felt it was safe to share my own confusion.‘When did that happen?' Taliyah pseudo-teased 'us'.At the same time, Alondra rocked forward. When she settled back, it was my cock inside her once more. Taliyah had gotten dual-vaginal and anal after we had 'prepped' her.‘We're telepathic,' Mikhail responded. Alondra didn't care.‘You'd better not be,' Taliyah muttered.Yeah, we had to do something about this. The next time we switched back, I pulled myself further up and away from Alondra. Mikhail picked up on my clues and went to regular doggy-style, his back pressing on hers, his left arm supporting his weight while his right reached under and began to manipulate her clit between two of his fingers in a tender, circular motion.‘Ah-ah-ah Shit!,' Misty Dawn announced her own eruption to all of us. It turned out she and Alexander shared their 'moment'; their synergy further multiplying their sensory overload.I had barely moved into a kneeling position in front of Alondra. We kissed which left me rather unprepared for;‘Now it's my turn,' Betty Jo pushed Brandy aside in her rush to grapple with me. Oh Joy!Mom and Dominique.‘Ms. Malik, there is a Mrs. Samsonov here to see you,' Riley buzzed Madam Mayor. Dominique bit down on her anger; and fear. Chinedu had been so plastered, he couldn't properly remember the events of the previous evening clearly and Taliyah hadn't felt the need to remind him. None of that erased the feel of the middle Samsonov boy's; everything, or the wrongness of those actions.Chief of Police Quinterre had yet to slither through her doorway, though that was something she had to prepare for. The beating Alexander (she wasn't fooled by whatever deception Gayle Fonteneau/Samsonov had perpetrated) took at school had been both troubling and welcome; since it served as a major distraction to 'that night'.Darius'; destruction had been a peal of thunder after Alexander's beating. Now the Arkansas State Police were nosing around and her 'mole' inside the Davis County Sheriff's Department had become reticent to supply her with useful information.‘Tell Mrs. Samsonov I don't have room in my schedule today. Perhaps she can avail herself of our city's website, or attempt an e-mail,' Dom answered.‘She says she'll wait,' Riley replied.'Ah shit; that bitch'; ‘Fine. I will give her five minutes in; thirty.'‘Yes Ma'am,' Riley sang out.Dominique frowned. Riley appeared 'upbeat'. Which black snake was pounding her fat ass and cunt now? Damn it; one more unexpected headache. Thirty minutes rolled around and Gayle hadn't departed like any sane individual would, so Riley showed her in.‘Riley, you can go,' Dom dismissed her White 'Political Assistant'.Riley kept smiling like a fool.‘Yes Ms. Malik,' the girl nodded.‘See you this evening, Riley,' Gayle smiled. Riley's smile deepened into something definitely sensual. Dominique was going to have to school her Jew Ass again. Spending time with Gayle Fonteneau was the opposite of helping out.‘Hi Dom,' Gayle settled into the seat across from Dominique.‘Call me Madam Mayor,' Dom bit back. ‘What do you want?' Gayle's grin turned into a vicious leer. ‘And leave Riley alone, damn you.'‘I was curious if Chinedu's sagging black ball sack has become a suitably dark shade of blue; I see from the look of his two main whores, they have,' Gayle chuckled.‘Bitch,' Dom seethed. ‘What do you; think you have on me?'‘Not a damn thing,' Gayle kept chortling. Dom was more convinced than ever the evil harlot had lost her damn mind. ‘Welcome to dealing with decent human beings, Dom. My boys didn't tell me a fucking thing. They certainly didn't gather any footage of supposed misdeeds.'Dom processed what she was and wasn't being told.<

Options:Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. ‘Senior Deputy Sheriff Samsonov is a hell of a guy,' Brandy mused.‘Him? No; not at first. Before me, the man had the sexual techniques of a cloistered monk. His cock on the other hand; whoa Nelly!' All three women nodded. ‘I had to train him over the years and he's pretty stubborn with these peculiar ideas about propriety and what locations are acceptable for intercourse.'‘Huh?' That was Brandy.‘In my opinion, if you can escape law enforcement it isn't really a crime.'‘What?' Taliyah.Sigh; ‘is there a place you wouldn't attempt to have sex?' Gayle looked them over. The two teens exchanged looks.‘Where is the weirdest place you've had sex?' Brandy asked the senior sex fiend.‘It is a toss-up between fucking while parachuting and having two orgasms in the Seattle Space Needle.' The girls looked for the joke. ‘Bitches, I don't mind you being centerpieces at a gang bang for the entire football team because of some sort of archaic moral hang-up. I'm glad my boys picked a pair of experienced sluts; I am.'Taliyah's fist clenched. Brandy took a different approach.‘So Vlad really doesn't care that I'm; more experienced?' A K A, nowhere close to virginal.‘No; not in the least. I don't like the fact you two let yourself be used as sex slaves by fuckers you know don't respect you,' Gayle schooled them.‘So you really don't mind me hitting Mik?' Taliyah mentally regrouped.‘Not at all. Some Men need a strong spinal realignment from time to time and don't call him 'Mik'. He finds it insulting and not in a playful way.'‘Do you hit; Mr. Samsonov?'‘No. The man is immune to negative physical reinforcement. Lord knows, I've tried. With their Da, it pays to be simple and direct. I grab his cock and say 'Here! Now!' and get down to business.'Both girls were aghast at both the visual and Gayle's frank honesty.‘And he puts up with that?' Taliyah grunted. Senior Deputy Samsonov was a huge man and could have tossed Mrs. Samsonov around one-handed, or so she had believed. He'd never came across like the cunt-whipped type.‘He's my partner, Taliyah,' Gayle kept 'explaining'. ‘He knows I'm a constantly horny, little slut whose kitty needs petting and I respect his rarely doing anything else I want him to do; like getting my name tattooed on his cock, starting a bar brawl for the shits and giggles, celebrating National Nude Day, or going skinny-dipping in your pool,' aimed at Brandy.‘Have you two had sex in my house?' Brandy choked.‘Twice,' Gayle recalled fondly. ‘Once in the kitchen, bent over the center island; a trifecta; and once in your Daddy's bedroom. I hoped he enjoyed the show on the playback.'‘She really is crazy,' Taliyah looked to Brandy.‘That I am,' Gayle gleefully agreed. ‘Back to the program. Brandy, tomorrow morning before Homeroom, I want you to 'suggest' to Vlad you want double-penetration. He'll ask you if it is my idea, you'll tell him 'no' and he'll believe you are lying to him. He'll go along with it anyway to make sure I don't get angry with you.'‘Will you?' Brandy meeped. ‘Will he?'‘No and no. Your sensuality is pretty physical, Brandy. You'll learn to be a lying, manipulative whore later.'‘You want me to lie to Vlad? He'll be furious with me when he finds out!'‘No, he'll be angry with me for making you lie to him,' Gayle shook her head. ‘Vlad's clever that way.'‘But; you want us to lie to them?' Taliyah didn't believe her.‘Taliyah, any man who believes everything a woman tells him is an idiot. My boys aren't idiots, just inexperienced and hormonal.'‘So you want us to lie to them,' Taliyah confirmed.‘I want you two to use your fucking brains along with those smoking hot bodies; that is what I want,' Gayle clarified. ‘Tomorrow, arrange for the Cheer Squad to meet in the Music Room at the start of 4th period. It just so happens, the Music Room is unoccupied during the 3rd period as well; here is the key,' she handed Brandy a key.‘You have a key to the Music Room?' Taliyah muttered.‘No. I have a Master Key to the school. I took it off that fat bastard former-Principal after he attempted to rape me,' she confessed blithely. ‘I made some copies for contingencies such as this.'‘Now Brandy; you, Vlad and Mikhail are going to skip 3rd period, sneak off to the Music Room and; enjoy yourselves. Take your time. Turn it into one huge seduction. Use that body to make them lose all track of time.'‘Where am I going to be?' Taliyah frowned; her Man was going to be fucking Brandy, damn it! Her aching possessiveness was new and raw.‘You make sure you are the first one to the room at the bell between the 3rd and 4th period. Gather up the girls and sneak them into the room with your key,' Gayle handed Taliyah another key.‘Won't the period bell let them know something's up?' Taliyah wondered.‘What are they going to do? Rip their dicks out of Brandy?'‘Oh no; ‘ Brandy gasped and shook her head. She didn't like that idea at all.‘No. Brandy will tell them the Music Room is vacant for the 4th period as well; so, in theory, they could keep going for another five, or ten minutes,' Gayle said.‘And the other eleven cheerleaders are going to walk into the room, see Brandy, Vlad and Mikhail; ‘‘Perhaps less than eleven, but yes; rushing hungrily to join in; ‘ Gayle interrupted.‘Oh; ‘ Taliyah blinked. ‘They are going to see the three of us and fall magically in love with them; oh.'‘Kind of like what happened to you,' Gayle smirked to Taliyah.‘Wait! Did you have Mikhail and Vlad; or just Mikhail, do that to me on purpose; at the lodge?' Taliyah rumbled angrily.‘No. What I needed to know was written all over Brandy's face their first Saturday together. My boy 'fixed' her something good. You and Mikhail keeping your hands off one another wasn't even a possibility; he was horny, just like you.'‘I swear, if that boy had set me up,' Taliyah growled.‘I suggest scratching and biting to remind him you are unhappy with him,' Gayle provided unlooked for advice and insight. ‘If that doesn't work, try hot candle wax.' The two girls, once again, gawked at Gayle. ‘Or you can pout, whine and tell him he is a big bully,' she spoke mockingly.Taliyah glared.‘Taliyah, you both like rough sex.  I am suggesting you keep going with what works,' Gayle chuckled. ‘Brandy, you keep up the pouting. Be a little less whiney.  Your 'pouty' pisses him off and makes him want to punish you with some hard fucking.'Pause.‘Oh,' Brandy grinned. Pouting = primal sex. check! Taliyah play-punched her, so Brandy pouted at them both.‘That'll do,' Gayle approved.‘What do we do if Vlad and Mikhail decide they like one of the other girls more?' Brandy revisited her panic.‘Fight for them,' Gayle sighed in exasperation. ‘Just like you two should be worthy of fighting over, you should be prepared to fight for their affections as well. I don't mean debasing yourselves. I mean reminding them you are the ones who will make them happiest, inside and outside of the sexual arena.'‘If Mikhail's gaze strays too long, I'll nut him,' Taliyah declared.‘I suggest a Charlie Horse on the off chance you surprise him. Do you really want to put that nut-sack out of commission?' Gayle snorted.‘Ah, good point,' Taliyah nodded; then, ‘How do you do a good Charlie Horse?'It dawned on both girls, like a flash of lightning across a clear night sky, they had been suborned to Gayle Fonteneau Samsonov's agenda; to the point where they were asking the older woman; the hated, feared enemy-bitch; for practical advice. The World had turned upside down.What it means.For me and Mikhail it meant no sex without being privileged to know why we were being punished. Dad came home with our young English teacher, Ms. Blanchard, only to have to drive Brandy and Taliyah back to school to pick up Taliyah's car; so she could drive Brandy home, not me.Alexander didn't have sex either (as far as I could tell), yet was gifted with an attentive Ms. Andrea Blanchard who 'appreciated' his gallant nature. Stunningly, Alexander's infirmity reappeared and Ms. Blanchard felt obliged to dote on him in a confusing flirtatious-mothering style. It took me a bit to figure out there was a fearful nervousness behind her actions as well.The situation was exacerbated by Mom deciding to get naked; ugh; just as everyone else was clearing the table.‘Nik,' Mom purred.‘Huh?' from Dad.‘Here; now!'‘Huh?'‘Sex.'‘We have company, Gayle.'‘And?'‘Quick!' I jumped up. ‘Everyone grab a plate and run for it.'Isabo hurried the children from the room while the rest of us stacked up the plates and serving trays as rapidly as possible before making our own exits. Andrea was flabbergasted. To add to her surreal feelings, as soon as we made our escape, the rest of the house life returned to normalcy. Even Bebe, who had been initially (in her case; weeks ago) freaked out by Mom's eccentric sexual behavior, appeared amused. I left it to Alexander to help Andrea adjust.‘Mom's; eccentric; erratic; and free spirited,' he shrugged.‘So, this happens; ah; often?' she whispered. No one else was whispering, but we understood the impulse.‘Two, or three, times a week,' Alexander admitted.‘; a week?' Andrea gulped.‘Oh yeah,' smirked Mikhail. ‘Don't worry. We understand Mom is beyond unusual. You won't see anyone else doing that; around here.'‘Okay; ‘ she hesitated. Ms. Blanchard caught his pause.‘What my brother is referring to is an earlier, unfortunate episode up at the hunting lodge,' I punched Mikhail as I explained. He chuckled.By the look on Ms. Blanchard's face, she was unsure if she wanted further clarification. Alexander took a slightly defensive posture hovering close by. Bebe, normally so silent around us boys, miraculously came to her rescue.‘Andrea; Mrs. Samsonov is a wonderful woman. She's also off her rocker and everyone in the house knows it. What is important is her true affection for those she holds close is genuine, her dedication is fierce in all she does and her husband and sons carry that intense devotion into their own friendships.'‘Thank you, Bebe,' I nodded. ‘As an outsider looking in; well, I couldn't have possibly said it better myself; being on the inside.'Andrea nodded as well. After all, Mom's insanity translated over to a bloodily beaten, abusive former Principle, five plus beaten students who had harassed her, a school escort, new locks on all her windows and doors, and a completely unsolicited whole house-cleaning.A feminine feline purr rumbled from the dining room. The five of us exchanged awkward looks.‘Ms. Blanchard, have you seen the stables?' I intervened. Her eyes flickered to me.‘No.'‘Great.'Mom's moan faded into Dad's growl. While my Pa was generally oblivious on the uptake and slow out of the starting gate, he was the ‘Hammer of the Gods', once he got going, about 1 hour minimum. Considering we three were most likely going to grow up to be similar in stamina to him; we had high hopes for our long term sexual futures.‘Alexander, why don't you show Ms. Blanchard the stables. Bebe, why don't you make yourself and Ms. Blanchard something to drink with a kick to it while Mikhail gets himself and Alexander something legit to drink,' I took command.‘Why am I involved in any of this?' Mikhail scoffed.‘I have to do the dishes because I was elsewhere; ‘ I reminded him.‘Oh yeah,' Mikhail snorted. Off he went. Bebe gave me a tiny smile before turning and heading for the library and its bar.‘Ms. Blanchard?' Alexander offered to direct the educator outside via another, 'safer' route.‘Oh; maybe I should go?' she hedged.‘Ah; ‘ Mom.‘Your purse is; ?' Alexander asked. We knew the answer. It was in the hallway; right outside the entrance to the dining room. It would be offsetting, or so it might appear. In actuality, my brothers and I had snuck thru the 'danger zone' many times before.‘Let's go see the stables,' Andrea redirected Alexander. I had a kitchen to clean up, so I missed the detailed tour of the stables as well as Ms. Blanchard's decision to spend the night; again.Tuesday.To maintain the illusion of Ms. Blanchard not spending time with Alexander (even though there was nothing sexual going on), we triplets were sitting in her gravel driveway while she ran inside to change and got a few things. 'A few things' meant a shot of vodka. She'd take a breath mint afterwards, but come on now; we were from Russian stock and vodka was our national beverage. It still made Alexander nervous.Mom had taken a different tactic in dealing with Ms. Blanchard's alcoholism. After she and Consuela cleaned up the place, Mom had come back with vodka bottles big and small and hidden them all over her small home; a shot glass with each big bottle. She'd left sticky notes to let her know where each bottle was hidden. I imagined the sticky notes were gone now, yet;The psychology was a shot glass would mean less alcohol per desperate desire to bury her pain and misery. The 'game' would allow Andrea to indulge while not turning her domicile into a drunkard's den. In theory, she could safely have company over now. Lastly, if Ms. Blanchard got too drunk, she couldn't remember where the bottles were hidden, or so the reasoning went.At school, Alexander (with our help) would diminish the root cause of her anguish; the sexual blackmail her students inflicted on her. At 'home', Mom and Bebe were befriending Andrea Blanchard; giving her female friends to connect with outside of the school's still poisonous BBC atmosphere.I was ruminating over that when;‘Do you really believe Mom's bullshit about 'magic dicks'?' Mikhail asked me out of the blue. Alexander was out of the Mustang, sitting on Ms. Blanchard's stoop. Today, Mikhail had ridden his motorcycle over, so I had the car momentarily to myself. I hesitated.‘Fuck,' he groaned. In our triplet group, I was the 'clever' one. We didn't resent our designations;·         Alexander; kind,·         Vlad; clever, and·         Mikhail, violent;because it allowed us leeway in our actions. See, Mikhail could react physically to problems because he knew if he was doing something exceedingly stupid, I'd stop him.If he was being 'too' brutal, Alexander would reign him in. Likewise, if Mikhail's gut instinct was to lash out, we respected it. Sometimes instinct trumped reason. If Alexander was being too sappy, we'd let him know. If I was over-thinking something, either brother could step in. By the time we hit our mid-teens, we couldn't imagine any other way of living.By our 18th birthdays we figured we'd spend the rest of our live together; we were an awesome trio and rightly proud of our co-dependence. Even if we ended up on the run with Uncle Theo, we'd all go down together. It was how we faced the family and our world. The blood-kin Samsonov's weren't the easiest people to deal with. We had Mom to thank for us not quite fitting in.We loved and admired Dad and his family. Mom's upbringing had tainted our way of thinking though. Time and again, Mom skirted, bent, or bastardized the 'ordinary' way of approaching life's pitfalls and pleasures. We three would never truly be 'Samsonovs'. I think Dad knew that as well. The one time an older cousin slipped us a catalog on the best Criminal Justice College programs in Alaska; Dad frowned. The man quietly withdrew his 'suggestion'.In a way, it was a blessing to the clan. Thanks to Mom, we were also gifted with the ability to navigate the machinations of the Samsonov brides and grooms; those folks who married into our lineage. Since they were all somewhat nutty, our ability to separate them when the lunacy set in was appreciated. That way, the rest of them didn't have to become overly confrontational; which was the way the blood-Samsonovs liked it.Being the clever one, I also clued into Mikhail's subliminal anger. He didn't want to cheat to get Taliyah's affections. He might even start trying not to be a jackass around her because of it; making them both miserable.‘Mikhail, you had her on the kitchen counter and backing that ass up against you in the recliner before any 'magic' kicked in. She likes you for reasons which defy even 'magic dicks',' I punched him in the arm.‘Thanks,' he nodded then hit me back. ‘So, what's next?'‘Gang-bang.'‘You really think we are going to pull it off?'‘Yeah. Mom sketched out the general plan to me a while ago,' I nodded.‘Cool. I've wanted to stick my cock down Alondra Lamb's throat ever since the first time I saw her lips part,' Mikhail rubbed his hands together.‘Taliyah is going to whoop up on you if she hears you talk like that,' I cautioned him.‘Yeah,' he grinned like the Heath Leger's Joker. ‘Cool, ain't it?'‘Being slapped by a girl?'‘Nah,' he cavalierly dismissed any misconceptions. ‘Making her angry with me. Then she gets this look in her eyes like she's going to own me; it is a huge fucking turn on.'‘Mom would be so proud,' I muttered.‘Then I'm going to nail Jewel Lafontanté,' Mikhail's eyes shown with relish.‘She's not on the Cheer Squad,' I pointed out.‘Yeah, but she's sexy, smart and thinks she a 'top' bitch,' he chuckled.‘Isn't she dating somebody?'‘So? I only want to borrow her; take her out for a spin,' he laughed. He was a jackass and ambitious and;‘Mikhail, both those girls are Black. Do you have a thing for Black chicks?'‘I like 'em dark,' he mused. ‘Hadn't really thought about it as a preference, but you're right. My Top Ten 'Most Fuckable List is filled with Ladies of Color. I guess that means you get the blondes and Alexander gets the red-heads and brunettes.'‘Top Ten List? You're a pig,' I chided him.‘Grunt, grunt, oink.'To put things in perspective, Alondra Lamb was a medium height, tawny skin Black lass with straight, black hair past her shoulders and a killer body with decent tits, perfect for her athletic body type, and a divine ass.She was also; to put it politely; mentally-underwhelming. Beyond her exemplary looks, she was an above-average gymnast and on most days capable of tying her own shoes; the ones with the Velcro straps. Her hazel eyes were always wide open and her lips pursed in an 'o' unless she was blathering on about something inane and off-topic, or just giggling for no understandable reason.She found simple things amusing (kind of adorable) and didn't 'date' a member of the football team; she barely could remember their names and normally got passed around like a living onahole. I felt sorry for her. Usually, she hung out with Betty Jo Starling (one of the team's other two Blondes) who shared her mentally-endearing qualities. The rest of the squad treated those two rather poorly.In contrast, Jewel Lafontanté was from a new (to Kingston) nouveau riche Black Family. Rumors say her Dad worked for the Government years ago, before setting out and founding his own IT company here in Arkansas. He and his Choctaw wife had retired here in Kingston a few years back. They bought a nice spread and became pillars of the community. Jewel was a late child. The rest of her brothers and sisters were grown, with families of their own. So she was effectively an Only Child, doted on by her aged parents.Jewel was also one of the smartest kids in school, one of the best members of the local studio's Dance troupe and possessed a crippling wit. At 5' 11', she was noticed and her curvaceous and sporty build was widely admired, although when her dark eyes danced with amusement at the suffering her 'diversions' caused, the timid backed away. Her preference for a different hairstyle, or two, every week kept the local hair stylists in business.She was bright, sassy and vicious with her own little group of Black women called the ZPP (Zulu Princess Posse, i.e.  6 rich Black girls and their one token rich White girl). They only dated 'rich' Black guys, yet consistently cheated with impoverished, or medium-income, White underclassmen. They toyed with the boys and finally let their official 'boyfriends' know of the White boy's indiscretions. If you somehow resisted their advances, they lied about what happened instead. Either way, beatings always followed.During Darius' reign, Jewel had kept a low profile from 7:15 to 2:15 pm and hadn't participated in the school's sports religion. No; she'd stayed safely away doing stuff with the other rich kids on the evenings and weekends. Darius must have decided her dad, while old, was an uncertain enough quantity to not screw around with his youngest child.Brief Segway.Beyond my understanding at the time, Jewel also represented another fabric of Kingston/Davis society; those from the post-divide i.e. higher-income families from out-of-State who moved in after the new millennia, both Black and White, who weren't invested in the bitter interracial struggle of the 1970's and took the status quo at face value.They'd moved here when Arkansas State put a satellite campus in down the road and the natural recreation industry gained a regional recognition; sports-fishing, hunting and hiking. A S U Kingston was a Medical Technical School which taught, as you might guess, various programs for technicians in the medical field as well as nursing. Not only did the graduates not normally go on to top tier careers, A S U K wasn't a research university, so the teaching staff, while well-to-do in this rural dystopia, weren't filthy rich either.A S U -K had a small campus with a faculty and student population under 2,000 and was, like the White Middle-class enclave of Sunshine Terrace, its own little microcosm in Davis County. Yep; A S U -K had its own Campus Police Force while Sunshine Terrace had a contracted private security service.Anyway, as Kingston prospered and the Middle Class Whites fled to their own segregated hamlet, these new Blacks moved into Kingston. Likewise, more 'country' Blacks moved in from Davis County as well, further segregating the races. Forty years after Taliyah's grandfather was first elected mayor, Kingston had tripled in size (2,100 to 6,400) while Davis County as a whole was roughly 60% larger (13,500 to 21,700), thus the Town being 'Black' while the County was 'White'.Inside, the town's Black community was another divide and it was best expressed in their 'womenfolk' and what was expected of them. Dominique, for all her power and influence, basically worried about her daughter dating the 'popular' Black guy because this was BBC country and women defined their positions by the masculine auras around them.In contrast, Jewel's mother didn't worry over-much about who Jewel dated, because Jewel was going to college (somewhere else). High school and high school boys were just stepping stones. BBC was still out there, but 'the Modern Black Woman' had developed a host of weaponry of their own. To the outside world, such a distinction made Jewel and her Mamma feminists.Later on Jewel was to qualify that for us; she was a Feminist with a capital 'F'. Whereas Taliyah wanted to own Mikhail's body and soul because he challenged and completed her, Jewel wanted to own us; period; all three of us Samsonov boys.Why?Excuses were for people who needed to explain themselves to their fellow losers. Winners like Jewel 'achieved' and took what rewards they wished.Apparently seeking Equal Rights was a hallmark of the unambitious, being 'just as a good as a man' was settling for less and Racial Equality implied there might be something a White Person could do that a Woman of Color couldn't do better; according to her doctrine. Had they (Jewel, her mom and our Mom) not all been Class-A Bitches, they would have gotten along famously.To be fair, had Mikhail not gone gunning for her, she would have most likely left us alone; but he did. My youngest brother is an asshole at times, as well as relentless, and after so many years having Mom controlling our social lives, he now was sexually 'off his leash'.Resume‘How about we just stick with the Cheer Squad for the rest of the week,' I tried to divert him. ‘Perhaps you might find ten other women enough for you.'‘Nope,' Mikhail shook his head and laughed.‘How about Taliyah's feelings?' I launched as a 'Hail Mary'.‘No,' he kept shaking his head. ‘I'm not boyfriend material, Vlad. Sex is too much fun. I really like Taliyah, but; no. No promises, no lies and no illusions. There is going to be no ring on my finger, or through my nose. I'll hold her hand, and hold her if she's weeping, but I'm not going to mistake sex for friendship, or vice versa. I'm 18, damn it! I want to roam.'The rest of the conversation was truncated by Ms. Blanchard's appearance. Mikhail returned to his motorcycle, Alexander got into the Mustang and she got into her battered, green 1997 Toyota Camry. Off we went. Close to the main entrance of the main building, most of the Cheer Squad was waiting for us. They were dressed in 'regular' clothes; we knew them by their faces.As soon as we rolled up, Rashaan Quinterre and a few of the football team members made an appearance. Taliyah frowned. Her frown only deepened when another cheerleader; this one White, Randi Leigh Upshaw, went into his arms. He did his best to look triumphant. Randi Leigh certainly looked pleased with herself.‘Coach is making Rashaan the new Team Captain,' she informed the crowd.‘Ha!' Mikhail laughed at the couple. ‘Anyone who thinks Rashaan Quinterre is even half the man Darius was, raise your hands.' His mockery was eviscerating. Worse, it took several seconds for several of Rashaan's teammates to raise their hands. ‘You are only Captain because your Daddy is Police Chief, not because anyone thinks you can replace Darius, you loser.'‘I'm going to kick your teeth in, Cracker,' Rashaan seethed. He had six other footballers versus Mikhail and me. How the Cheer Squad would break down was an unknown. Alexander had already deviated for the Teacher's Parking Lot. There were maybe a periphery of forty other students at that moment plus;‘Boys,' softly drawled a voice of an adult I hadn't seen before. He was a Big (as in muscular) White guy with a 'five o'clock' shadow at seven in the morning, unkempt, dark-russet hair, darting, soulless brown eyes and a weathered, sun-creased complexion.Of more critical importance he had my Samsonov Law Dog senses tingling at first sight; he was a human predator. His easy-going mannerisms were deceptive and his leadership skills were exhibited by the aura of dominion he seemed to project over the eight rednecks he had accompanying him.‘Buck!' Misty Dawn Sizemore burst forth from the Cheer Squad and ran up to the lead hillbilly. He wrapped her up in a bear hug while keeping his eyes on the rest of us. ‘I didn't think you were coming back.'‘The new nigger Principle made a deal with my wetback Parole Officer. I graduate and they cut the last three and a half years off my parole,' he replied nonchalantly.'Nigger' didn't go over well at all. It was telling to me that it took Rashaan several seconds to step up into his new leadership role. 'Wetback' on the other hand was just;‘Buck, watch your fucking mouth before you get your teeth kicked in,' Rashaan tried to sound brave, but wasn't very convincing. Buck looked him up and down, then chortled.‘Rashaan, ya ain't no Darius, Nigger,' he sneered. ‘Fuck with me and I'll gut you like the sweaty little piglet you are.' He emphasized his point by casually pushing Rashaan back a step. The light of Justice flared up against the forces of Intolerance and Intimidation.‘Taliyah, who is this latest knuckle-dragger?' Mikhail grinned at Buck.‘Your bad attitude makes you Mikhail,' Buck responded first, grinning. He'd already scouted us out; which made him even more dangerous. ‘That makes you; ,' nodding to me and since I was closer, he moved toward me for the handshake (he tried to break my phalanges and got nowhere), ‘; Vlad cause your brother Alex went hobbling off already. I'm Chester Ray Tooney, but everyone calls me Buck.'‘Hi Buck, I'm Vladimir Samsonov.'‘So, you are the guy who made Brandy's ass 'All Access',' he leered. He hadn't let go of my hand. He was about to regret that.‘Oh, so it is going to be like that then. Buck, I'll give you the same options I gave Darius on Day One. Let's settle this Man-to-Man. I'm challenging you to a duel,' I hadn't let go of his hand yet either.‘A duel?' he muttered as he pushed Misty Dawn away.‘That's a fight between two men with some semblance of rules.'‘Like an M M A bout?' he studied me.‘Sure. You dropped the insult. I issued the challenge. Now you get to pick the weapons, or lack thereof. I then pick the time and location,' I explained.‘Do this a lot?'‘You'll be the first.'‘You are really pissed over me calling Brandy a slut? Everyone knows she was Darius' hoe,' he grumbled. He'd just lost the hand-grinding war. His guys were tensing up even as I was grinding his knuckles together in my grip.‘Don't Vlad,' Taliyah spoke up. ‘Back in the day, Buck was Darius' brother Cyrus's bitch. Holding his hand might make him feel lonely.' She then taunted Buck by adding, ‘Missing Cyrus much while he's in prison?' Buck took the opportunity to sucker-punch me. To avoid the blow, I'd have had to release his hand. Instead, I took the newly proffered arm, channeled his momentum into a hip-toss and planted him on the ground.I had his wrist twisted painfully, his arm locked up and my foot was on his throat. Buck was on his back on the asphalt with a furious expression on his face.‘Motherfucker,' the closest redneck made ready to rush me.‘Take that step and I'll break his arm,' I informed them both angrily. ‘Buck, I'd appreciate it if you would apologize to Brandy now.'‘Get off me,' Buck snarled. ‘I'll fucking kill you.'‘Vlad,' Misty Dawn hesitantly reached for me.‘Vlad, let him up. He's not worth it,' Brandy intervened. When it was clear she was the one I was listening to, I backed off. I even offered Buck a hand up. Oddly, he took it; without the expected sneak attack.‘Duel, huh?' Buck scowled.‘Yeah.'‘I'll think about it.'‘I'm not hard to find,' I stepped aside as he and his group forced their way forward. His departure left Rashaan and his crew staring at me, Mikhail and the Cheer Squad once more.‘Don't worry, Misty Dawn. I wouldn't have let Vlad hurt your cousin much,' Brandy roped in her fellow cheerleader. Brandy shot me a dazzling smile in the process.‘Thanks, Vlad,' Misty smiled my way as well.What was going on? Well Brandy and Taliyah's position as leaders of the Cheer Squad

Of Funerals and Families; Part Two. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Birthed by stars, in immortal light, so why do we assume we pass into Darkness.” A maniac conducted the orchestra, while every section fought for dominance without a thought to the opera unfolding under its twittering cacophony. That is how it felt as I steeled myself for the service, but my musings were a fantasy. I had a swirling company of my twenty inductees, two Amazons, plus Rachel's detail and Esmeralda coordinating all the traffic. Pamela was absent. Buffy was the one in charge, deciding who got how close and under what level of scrutiny. The presence of law enforcement was made obvious by our vigilance, with mutual hostility being declared. The government was catching up with how they'd been screwed over. They couldn't prove a thing yet, although they had missed an entire day trailing after me. They also had new leadership. Pamela had expelled Theodora with the simple application of Conflict of Interest. Nicole and Pratt had joined me in my suite, so I was suitably armored when the Feds made their next run at me. I had stepped up in the world, so I was rewarded with a new attack plan. Her name was Assistant Federal District Attorney Javiera Castello, and two seconds of eye contact made precisely transparent what a hurricane she was going to bring to my life. Sex? Oh yeah, she was already figuring what penitentiary to send me to so she could make monthly visits. An impressive dicking wasn't going to save me this time. She was professional, polite and courteous concerning my mourning without being false. Theodora's strategy assumed I was the man who graduated from Bolingbrook a few months back. My history was clear and muddy enough to be real. I was what my documentation said I was; until Havenstone. Theodora had waved the flags and charged the barricades only to discover too late that my defenses weren't manned by a lone yahoo with a bow and arrow, but with mortars and machineguns and her troops had been scattered, her plans shredded. Javiera had my measure now. I was a Prince. Of what, she didn't know yet. She was going to find out. Not out of some fatalistic curiosity, but because that's where the bread crumbs led. Dad was what he appeared to be, that plot of land was relatively worthless and two groups of professional killers had fought and died dragging my father either away, or to safety. I work with some scary-smart ladies. "Ms. Castello, would you care to travel with me to the service?" I turned to her at the last moment. I was a clever puppy, good with women and I wasn't trying to be a politician. Javiera took my gesture for what it was; an olive branch. I was offering to be less of an obstructionist, and she was willing to forgo retribution for my earlier stunts. Five minutes down the road in the stretch limo, I could see the question eating Javiera up inside. She was honoring my melancholy; I could almost hear Dad saying, 'Son, you have company' as a persistent reminder to his petulant teenage slacker that I was a member of the Human Equation. "What do you want to ask me?" I gathered my civility to the fore. Nicole shifted so that we were making eye contact. "Is there a limit to how many questions?" she started off with. I didn't say 'One and that was it'. "I've been told it will take us thirty-two minutes to the cemetery," I looked at my watch. "That gives us; twenty-six minutes," I offered. "Why all the hostility?" led the charge. "A variety of people consider my life to have some value. For a few it is personal. For most, they attach a more esoteric price tag on my existence," I replied. "That is vague enough to be useless," she gently scolded me. Oh, I could see that both Javiera and Nicole were about to play Nutcracker with my heritage until it was the consistency of warm peanut butter. "I am the member of not one, but two secret societies," I kept steady eye contact with her. Yes; there was that look I was slowly becoming accustomed to; that one that conveyed 'what you said made no sense, so why aren't you lying to me?' "Which ones?" Javiera rebounded quickly. "Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time," Nicole reposed. "Nicole," I patted her knee, "how would you feel if you got Javiera murdered?" "That thought shouldn't even be;” she stated. "Nicole, I'm worried enough about you. People know I like you, so they may not kill you for looking in the wrong trash bin," I explained. "She doesn't even have that rather tenuous screen." "Was it one, or both secret societies that shot and killed your father?" Javier continued. "Without a doubt it was an accident. The all-female group was simply scouting the location out as part of forming a contingency plan," I said. "The other group showed up to kidnap my father to interrogate him; I'm not going to tell you why." "The first group identified themselves and the second group began shooting. In the process of grabbing my father, they shot him three times. In the process of taking him to one of their cars, the living lady engaged them in a final firefight. They abandoned my father and left." "You seem to know a great deal about what happened," Javiera noted. "I've seen the footage the first group took from their helmet cams," I told her. "Is there any way I could see that?" she prodded. "By no human means I can think of," I shrugged. "Feel free to ask that extremely venomous lady sitting next to you. Her name is Rachel," I made the introduction. "She remains under the impression that killing people around me will somehow save me from myself," I added. "I not only trust her, I trust her with the lives of my daughters." "You don't have any children we are aware of," Javiera wondered. "Rachel knows what I mean," I gave a lopsided grin. Rachel knew alright. I wasn't asking her to save me with that statement. I was asking her to save my future. "What is with all the women? I'm a believer in gender equality. You seem to lack any male employees, period. Is this a permutation of a harem?" Javier opened another line of investigation. Rachel and Buffy quickly snorted their amusement then returned to their not-so-subtle aggression. I was sure my chauffeur, Tiger Lily, was snickering it up too, beyond the glass. Sigh. "That was uncalled for," I frowned at the Fed. "Five Google searches and you should know all about Havenstone's hiring practices. Ask what you want to ask. Don't try to trick me. I am definitely not in the mood." "Why are you in charge; a male over Havenstone employees that certainly have more skill and experience at; just about everything?" Javiera came clean. "Put on your hip-waders," I groaned. "This is going to suck." I waited until I had her undivided attention. "A long time ago, I killed a group of really bad people," I grunted. I could see that she wasn't buying it despite her interrogation senses saying I was being truthful. "When I say a long time ago, I mean about 2500 years ago." Sigh. "Before you start tossing Thorazine at me, all you need to accept is that every one of those women around me believes that to be true." "So this is a cult?" Javiera inquired bravely. "Put it this way. I'm sure you practice a martial art of some kind. You probably have a chromatic belt that you are rather proud of. It will not help you. These women are professional killers. I'm pretty sure there are a dozen unidentified corpses that could be attributed to these two." I already knew that Buffy killed some guys. Rachel? She was a team leader, so I was willing to have faith in her ability to remorselessly end another person's life. Javiera must have volunteered for my personal fiasco. "Are you being held against your will?" she looked so vigilant and intent. "I can get you out." "No," a dry chuckle. "I'm; not good; getting by. There is no way in Hell I'm leaving Havenstone. I can hardly kill all the people responsible for my father's death if I did that." "If you seek personal vengeance, I will be forced to bring every legal power to bear to stop you," she felt bound to threaten me. "Don't stop being you on my account, Ms. Castello," I finally managed a smile. It was sincere and Javiera knew it. "Who? Maybe I can catch them before you do?" she offered me an escape clause. "You will know it when you see it," I took a deep breath. "Do not try anything at the funeral," she warned me. "Law enforcement will be all over the place." She really wanted to screw me in prison. I knew those things. "I'm not going to kill them there," I assured her. "They will be the ones running for their lives though." "How is that going to work?" Nicole finally broke my silence. "I have 27 ladies willing to kill on my command," I exaggerated. "When I tell those men I know they were responsible and that they should run for their lives, they are going to run for their lousy stinking lives." "But you are not going to give the order to have them killed," Javiera stated. She was getting my measure now. "No, but they don't know that and being horrible human beings, they will assume that I will have them murdered over my father's grave," I turned positively wolfish. "They will run and they will keep running because of you and yours, Javiera. They won't have guns because they don't want to be arrested," I finished. "Why are they afraid to be arrested?" Javiera was putting the puzzle together. That was our deal after all. "I can have repeated, heavenly sex on a train with a nun," I confessed. "I'm pretty sure I can arrange to have a scumbag killed in prison." "I think we can both agree my client is under a great deal of stress at this time," Nicole intervened. "I think we can agree your client is not Al Capone, much less Osama bin Laden," Javiera allowed. "I still think he is exceedingly dangerous." "Dangerous? Dangerous is dating in this town," I groaned. "Went out late last night to a dance club, met two sweet girls visiting the Windy City, stepped outside and they tried to kill me." "Do these two count as 'public'?" Buffy snarled. She meant Javiera and Nicole. Pratt was in another car and the only others with us were Rachel and me. This was going to hurt. "No," I sighed. Wham! The Charlie Horse from Hell! "That's why you have bodyguards, you jerk," Buffy nearly cried. "Ah; we were with him," Rachel tapped Buffy's upper arm. "Oh." Long pause. "I; I apologize," Buffy said sheepishly. "I had no idea you were getting smarter." That was probably the best apology I was going to get. It was still my fault. "You do it out of love, Buffy," I rubbed my arm. Buffy gave me a heartbreaking smile. "Was that domestic violence, or assault?" Javiera snarled. "Neither one is allowable under Illinois law." "It is a Human Resources Team-building tool," I lied. "In some places it is called Obedience Training, or Negative Reinforcement." "I have never seen another human being take a beating like Cáel can," Rachel complimented me. "He is also incredible in the bed room," Buffy added on. Javier didn't know what to make of the menagerie of 'not-normal' women who hung around me. She locked eyes with Buffy. "I mean Really fantastic," Buffy licked her lips. Nicole nodded in agreement. "I can't use any of this," Javiera muttered after several minute of silence. "It is all a type of shared delusion; with fourteen dead bodies attached to it." "Ah, the guy with both femoral arteries shot out made it? Whoa, we've got some top notch surgeons in this city," I nodded. "Yes. As opposed to those two men who had their heads shot off," Javiera added bitterly. Reminding her that poor Horace of the Burnham PD had done the deeds was pointless. "Who died?" I attempted some reciprocity from Javiera. She'd read through every public aspect of my life and had talked to me for less than ten minutes. She excelled at her craft; punishing lawbreakers. "I conclude you know the name of the three dead women and the one living one," she began, "because we haven't a clue who they really are. Their cover identities aren't perfect. We simply can't get anything about them behind the fallacy of their existence." She waited. "If you can help us put the wounded woman in some sort of shared protective custody, I can probably 'suggest' that she be more cooperative," I counter-offered. Rachel nodded. "The eight other bodies at the house;” Javiera shook her head. "Four were dead and by that I mean reported dead from four to nine years ago. The rest; Hell, they were all twisted fucking savages. Every one of them had Interpol warrants out for them, for questioning. No accusations seemed to stick to them: misplaced evidence, dead witnesses and falsified death certificates." "Does this mean anything to you?" Javiera paused to get some more information. "Yes. Reference the men running for their lives," I nodded. "Cáel?" Rachel cautioned me. "This is not something you can rush into." "Actually, it was you who clued me in, Rachel," I looked at her. "Given an opportunity to have only one gun of a given type, would you choose one you knew intimately, or a totally random one?" was my rhetorical question. Professionals trained with a large variety of weapons, yet every Amazon I had met had a preferred weapon; one that if they could have it with them, they would. "The Zastava M2," Rachel nodded. "It is not used in too many places and only Peru in this hemisphere. Someone really loved that gun; enough to bring it from whatever killing field where he was currently employed to my home," I said. "Since the other likely culprit passed on a chance to kill me last night, I am sure enough to pick a fight." (Holy Cross) It had to be odd in so many ways for the people who knew Dad and, to a lesser extent, me. They gathered by the graveside. It wasn't much. Dad had been cremated as had Mom. They had these small granite markers; no headstones for them. They had been so much in love. All they wanted is to be laid to rest, side by side. Mom had insisted on cremation. I thought I knew why, but it had done no good. The true oddity was obvious. The islet of normalcy was the small funerary party with me. My Aunt; my Father's Sister; was here and somewhat in shock. She and Dad hadn't been close; so much unsaid. When my Grandparents died, Dad was only nineteen and Stella was sixteen. Stella's lifelong friend had moved to Maryland a few months previously. Stella reached out to her friend, her friend's parents talked to Dad and Stella went to off to be a mariner. Seeing her occasionally as I was growing up was the extent of our relationship. The priest did his thing. I wondered what Christ thought of this mystic fur ball that was the amalgam of my life. My hope was that he was quietly urging me to do the right thing. The Padre finished, the co-workers and neighbors came by to give their condolences and then ran the gauntlet. The gauntlet? Yes, the herd of Amazons, O'Shea kin and four other clumps of people who I didn't know, yet undoubtedly would soon. Selena and Miyako were present along with a third female who looked luscious in a burqa-shaped covering and a diaphanous veil. Javiera, Pratt and Nicole were somewhat out of place with their lack of arrogant lethality. A limo driver came to take Stella away. "I have some issues to deal with, Aunt Stella," I comforted her. "Vér a vér." It had been ages since she'd heard Hungarian so she wasn't sure what I meant, but she knew it was bad. One of my O'Shea aunts was coming my way until the menace of the closing Amazons halted her. The others had no clue what they were about to behold. I doubt outsiders had ever been privileged to witness anything like it. This was a declaration; it was my mission statement. Ishara did not hide. I took off my coat, folded it, placed it on the damp grass then knelt on it. Buffy stepped up with the bowl of incense and followed my 'coat to keep your knees clean' stunt, sitting perpendicular on my right. Helena followed suit on my left, placing a shroud over my head and leaned over the bowl. Gamble number one: the incense lit up instantly. Gamble number two: it really did burn my eyes; no more Desiree slapping me around. I was sure she'd be heartbroken. Gamble number three: while using my nifty little Amazon blade to gather my tears, I managed not to cut myself. The inductees were much more impressed when they realized what I was doing under my head covering. The next step had me pulling back the shroud, standing up, and striding over the burning bowl of incense. Helena called out the first name. The lady didn't need any prodding. The Amazon walked over to my coat and knelt. Helena wrote down her name and handed her the slip of paper. My Keeper motioned to the bowl. The first applicant placed her named slip of paper on the embers. The simple message flashed up and was consumed. That was unlooked for. I declared her old self dead. With my tears, I opened her eyes to our ancestral history and with blood, I brought her into our future. She had entered House Ishara. She wasn't the only one crying either. What Rachel and her team thought was unknown to me. They were being hyper-vigilant. Esmeralda kept stealing glances our way. Things went along with joyous solemnity until the fourteenth woman, Alicia, knelt before me. Helena handed the paper over, the Amazon dropped it on the incense and nothing happened. I was about to move on to the next part of the ritual when I caught sight of that. Buffy, Helena and the lady were all staring at the offending bit of tinder. I bent over and, with my index finger, pushed it into the embers. Nothing; no heat, or fiery consumption. I put some spit on my finger and pushed again. This time it burned me. The paper was fine. Damn it; 'Come on Ishara!' I screamed mentally. 'Can't I have a simple bit of theater without you mangling someone's dreams?' There was no supernatural scolding, or retort. "Alicia, Ishara believes you have not yet finished your walk outside our House," I consoled the woman; Alicia Holt. As she stood up, faced gripped with disbelief, Buffy rose and took her away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alicia shoot me a poisonous look. Buffy had anticipated this and was making sure the woman didn't make a scene. The last six women were even more nervous than the previous thirteen. Thankfully, Ishara was accepting of the remainder and we all transited to the group celebratory hug. Act one has passed safely, Act two had an unexpected bump and here came round three. The 'dignitaries' started swooping in. Outside of the O'Shea's, none of the guests wanted to have another group behind them, or hemming in them. Two of the groups held back and since one was composed entirely of Asians, I was betting the other group was the Egyptian Rite. One of my now four aunts came forward. My small crowd of Isharans gave her barely enough room to approach the grave. She placed a green rose upon my Mother's small marble marker. I wondered what my Mother would have thought of her sisters finally finding her; green rose? Who made green; probably the same sick son of a bitch who made female clones of himself? The other three followed suit, placing the roses in a radiating sunburst on the small piece of marble. Through the wall of Illuminati security came; the Missing Link. Oh My God. I had heard of V-chested males, but this was insane. I swear his upper arms were as big as my thighs. The problem was the hips and legs of the body didn't match-up to the torso, arms, neck (or lack thereof) and shoulders. The upper, steroid-addicted half belonged to a two meter tall giant. The lower half belonged to, maybe, a subpar man of a meter and a half This monster didn't have a receding hairline (actually, he did); he had a receding forehead. In homo-sapiens, if you roll a marble off their heads, it drops and hits the eyebrows. On this guy, it was a gentle ski-slope all the way down. "This is your Uncle Carrig," Brianna; I thought it was Brianna; made the introductions. I dialed up my Irish. Carrig meant; meant; 'rock'. Not 'the Rock' as in Dwayne Johnson. No, it meant 'rock' as in 'lump'. I had an Uncle Lumpy. How the fuck was I going to explain this at the next high school reunion? The answer was obvious. I'd parade out my four lava-stoked volcanic aunt-hotties and no one would be able to see old Uncle Lumpy over their sexual radiance. Perhaps being created in the form of a disfigured Neanderthal made Lumpy furious with the world. That might be why he wanted Grandpa to stay dead. Maybe; oh hell, Lumpy had serious family issues, as in he wanted to hump my aunts who only wanted to hump me. "Hello Uncle Carrig," I started out. "Thank you for; " "Shut up," he sneered. "I came here to see your whore of a mother one last time, not listen to your prattle." "Carrig, don't," Fiona intervened. "He is family." He took a deep breath. "I know why all of you want him in the Family," he snarled at his sisters. "Behave, or leave," I relayed in a far calmer voice than I felt. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," Carrig turned his hate back on me. He put a finger to his nose and cleared his sinuses. The resulting sputum he launched at my Mother's tiny rock reminder was dead-on the money, gooey, white and full of phlegm. I looked at that defilement. This red-hot poker of rage seared through my mind. Instead, I laughed. It started as a stuttered utterance but grew and grew into a rich, resounding conquest of death and despair. "Wow, Unc; that was kind of pathetic," I chuckled. "It is impossible to imagine you ever breathed the same air, much less hold any genetic resemblance, to the greatest criminal mastermind of the past millennia. Seriously, spitting on a piece of stone was the most your orangutan-like, sloped-headed pea brain could come up with?" "After that (cough) brilliant bit of diplomacy, he's probably glad he's still dead and didn't have to witness your infantile blunder," I added. He was getting pissed; torn between his desires to pummel me, rip me to shreds, or storm off like a raging King Kong. "You know, when they killed Grandpa, they told me he made a noise like a stuck pig," I mirthfully met his hateful glare. "For a moment, they thought they'd killed the wrong man." "They suspected you and Granddad were in the next chamber, him ramming you up your sissy-ass for the umpteenth time because you are nothing but a ball-less wonder of a cast-off eunuch," I kept taunting him. "Then they recalled that you always squealed like a piglet, not a full grown boar, so they completed their mission and left," I refused to flinch before his vile hatred. "You think you are funny?" he leaned in and hissed. "I think you need a breath mint; and I am hilarious," I grinned. "I also think I'm the son Granddad always wanted, not you." That was me being mean; really mean. "We are not done," his eyes narrowed. "Take your pulse," I mocked him. "When it stops, we are finished. Until then, brush, use mouthwash and floss between meals. Your halitosis is truly offensive and worse, I think you are aware of it, yet still you refuse to respect other people's personal boundaries." "We should go brother," Deidre beckoned. She couldn't hide her amusement at his discomfort and humiliation. Uncle Carrig pivoted and back-handed her. Deidre went flying, but my idiot kinsman didn't have long to savor his win. I hit him with two lightning blows. My first thought was that I had dislocated a few of my fingers from hitting his jaw. Wasn't there a Bond villain like that? Carrig turned on me, a feral fury brimming just beneath the surface. "That's a breach, you cocky, snot-nosed punk," he sneered. Mass carnage was in the offing. "You remain painfully ignorant, Uncle Carrig," I took a half-step back. "Take your punishment now, or later," he coughed. "It makes no difference to me." "First off, Carrig, timing should be a poignant concern. Second, you have only now expended a great deal of your meager brain power convincing everyone here we are related; kin; O'Shea's," I explained. "Also, can I have my knife back?" "Knife?" he blinked suspiciously. "Yeah, the knife I left in your chest," I pointed. I said I hit him twice. Uncle Lumpy looked down and, sure enough, my handy little 10 cm blade was between his second and third rib on the right side. I hadn't wanted to kill him. I had wanted to hurt him and apparently failed at that; while sticking a blade almost up to the handle (Amazon personal blades have no hilt) into him; "What; how?" Lumpy was slowly clueing in that he might be in some trouble. "Brother," Brianna stepped up; shooting me a sultry, 'bend me over the closest headstone and bang me like your Goth prom date' look. I actually didn't go to my prom, Goth chicks are fun and Brianna didn't have panties on. Trust me; I have ESP concerning such things. Of more immediate concern; "Carrig, don't pull out the knife," she placed herself between us, facing him. "You will bleed all over the place." "I'm about to ram it down his ass through his throat," he snarled, clearly educationally challenged. I'd left the blade there for that very reason; not have him fountain blood all over the gravesite. "How long is the blade?" Brianna asked me. She already knew the answer. "10 cm," I was polite, "as is the knife every other Amazon carries." "Reach around and pull out the blade when I tell you," Brianna requested. "I will keep pressure on the wound." I had serious doubts she had an MD associated with her name which meant she knew something I didn't. I also had a more pressing conundrum. Per instructions, I was about to be pressing against Brianna's backside with the added benefit of a free hand. "So, do you want me to pat them, or give them a good rub?" I whispered to Brianna. I'd let he decide what treatment her ass was about to receive. "I figure if I reach around and massage your breasts, Carrig will lose it." "Cáel, take a firm hold. Be doubly sure you are ready before we begin," Brianna instructed. It wasn't the Di Vinci Code, but Carrig wasn't about to conquer a Denny's Kid's Menu (it has little games on it) anytime soon either. Brianna wanted double penetration and, in the name of renewing family relations and my inability to resist any available woman for more than a few days, I complied. Then the horror came crashing in; I hadn't had sex all day and it was almost 10 am. "Don't move, Uncle," I cautioned him. I used those words to conceal the sound of Brianna's skirt zipper going down. I used my other hand to gingerly grab my weapon; the knife; jeesh. Brianna spread her legs wider so that the tension kept her apparel from slipping down. My free hand went inside and got to work. Fortunately, Brianna's hands pressing above and below the wound distracted Carrig from her cute, precious whimpering noises. I must be a total dick. I was stroking my aunt/clone mother with two fingers and teasing her bunghole with my thumb while pulling a knife from my uncle's chest. What is wrong with me? For that matter, Ishara could stymie the ambitions of some poor 'Runner', yet decided her prime minion doing this was a good thing? I work for some screwed up people; dead and alive. "Okay, I'm about to do it," I warned them both. Brianna was kind enough to roll her hips forward and ass up for more direct access. The blade came out, two fingers thrust into her depths, Carrig grunted more in annoyance than any physical distraction and Brianna gasped with piteous need. Before Carrig could start to connect A to B to C, I withdrew my fingers and zipped Brianna up. As I started to withdraw, Brianna acted like my loins were velcroed to her posterior. "Bad Girl," I quietly gave her a risqué reproach. She let me go. Then it hit me like a meteor; I had caused Brianna to orgasm, and hard, with one touch. In fact, she was still roughly riding through it. The mental discipline needed to mask her arousal was impressive. She had no control over her aromatic qualities, Lumpy's nostrils were working fine and his hateful, beady rodent-like eyes latched back on me. "I'm going to kill you," he screamed. Carrig definitely wanted to screw his sisters and they had certainly been denying him. I was curious how that had been accomplished. As he shoved Brianna aside, my suspicion about the seriousness of my wound to his chest was confirmed. I hadn't punched through his heavy corded muscle tissue; with a 10 cm blade. Fuck a duck. If Uncle Carrig got those horrifically huge paws of his on me, I'd be paper-mâché in a hurricane; turned into veal; the very tenderized kind. That wasn't going to happen because of a little factor called crowd density. Most notably, he was in the midst of a passel of Amazons invested in my well-being. A sliver of the O'Shea family dynamic took hold. As usual, it sucked to be me. The four O'Shea ladies rallied around Carrig, cautiously pulled him back then ushered him into the steely embrace of their security. Why did that mean it sucked to be me? In a momentary visual exchange, I understood what Lumpy instinctually sensed when he showed up today. His reign as the place-holder for me was coming to an end. The second my Aunts recruited me over to their side, he was a goner. Obviously they had all the real intellect on that side of the clan. Poor Lumpy merely stomped around and acted like the socially maladjusted homicidal maniac he was. Once the journey to Grandpa's house began, he would cease to have any value whatsoever. Behind his animalistic, dull eyes, we shared that. Tragically, but most likely by design, Carrig couldn't develop a new set of skills to adapt to the situation. The best example I could come up with was; Imagine the last of the super-large amphibious predators confronting the first of the true dinosaur apex carnivores. Somewhere in that tiny amphibian brain, it knew it was screwed. Evolution simply hadn't left it an 'out'. It couldn't get bigger, faster, or more ferocious. It had maxxed out those traits for that model. Nope, it was toast and nothing could save it. As I processed that, the rest of that train of thought came tumbling down. Lumpy was a dead man. He'd hit one of his sisters in front of me which was precisely what they wanted. Deidre hadn't come by my place on Monday to warn me that Uncle Blockhead was trying to kill me. She was prepping me for the knowledge that they had killed Lumpy; to save me. Those incestuous nightmares had trotted Uncle Carrig out like a Barnum  and  Bailey Sasquatch, to loud acclaim and fanfare. Before I could do some in depth research/check to see if this was the 'real' Sasquatch, he would vanish aka be killed to save me. Well played ladies. They should have taken into account I worked for Katrina Love. Katrina undoubtedly played three-dimensional chess on-line so she could lure out the true Vulcans trapped on Earth. My aunts' straw man wasn't going to cut it. Back to the reality that included my father never again enjoying my meandering thoughts over dinner. Back to the other curious 'real' players as they moved in, having soaked up my ceremony and our O'Shea family struggle. If there as a benefit in that misadventure, it was the look on the faces of the two most distant groups. The ambassadors had on their poker faces. I was two decades away from having a chance of deciphering them. Foolish mortals, both groups had brought women with them though. That was not to imply that women can't keep secrets; they are among the experts. It wasn't secrets they were defending though; it was the interaction between Brianna and me that opened them up. If you are a woman and you see a man bring a different woman to orgasm with his fingers in under ten seconds and you are NOT intrigued, you have been sexually neutered. Even if you are a lesbian, you want your lover to pick up that technique. From the level of interest coming my way, I could tell what their bosses/associates really thought of me. The lady who was already thinking how to pull me aside at the reception was also projecting that I had piqued her co-workers, despite their feigned disinterest. The one who was plotting out how to disguise herself as a maid, so she could hide in my bathroom closet until I came in for a shower this evening. Then the feigned interrogation/instructional demonstration could begin, which told me they had chosen to not leave Chicago today despite previous travel plans. The three assholes won the social dare contest and approached me next. They were cool, somewhat disdainful and not a party to the murderous program that led us here today. They were still Condotteiri, thus my enemies and slayers of my Dad. "Mr. Nyilas," a smooth talking Canadian male began, "I wish to pass on the condolences of; " "I know it was you," I broke in. The Canadian; Ottawa, I thought; stopped talking, allowing me to vent. "You killed my father, you fucks. Now here is your 'I got drunk and stuck my cock in a meat grinder only to discover some other moron plugged it in' bullet to the brain. I am not only Cáel Nyilas, I am Cáel Ishara and Cáel, grandson of Cáel O'Shea," I narrowed my vision to menacing slits. "I will let you figure out which Goddess is Ishara as well as the convoluted genetics that has resurrected male Amazons. I want you to know that my father was the Head of House Ishara. You killed a Factor of the Illuminati, the 'Voice' of one of the Nine Clans, one of your own Generals, a Grand Master of the Egyptian Rite, a Ba Wang of the 7 Pillars, or a Chosen Son or Daughter, of Earth  and  Sky "That's right," I let the fear sink in. "This goes beyond a breach, Dumbass. You BROKE the Truce and have ended the Protocols by killing an Amazon leader. I'm sure claims of ignorance by your Generals will be taken for the empty blathering they are. It is time for your blood to soak the sacred soil of my father's place of entombment." Having buried him and his two cohorts in a rockslide of truth, my final bluff passed unrevealed for the empty threat it was. I could see by the looks in their eyes. Amazons didn't care about law enforcement. They would kill those three, vanish into the surrounds then slink back to their secret compounds. It was how the Condotteiri thought Amazon's worked. "Or," I grumbled, "Are you going to make me and my sisters hunt you down and work for it. Killing you with our knives is going to be;” I was saying when their retreat began. I was going to say 'messy'. Those three took a half-dozen steps back then ran for it. Now the stage was fully set. The three members of the Nine Clans came next. I took a totally different tone. Selena stepped up to speak, bowing as she started to speak. "We wish;” she started. There was a lot of interrupting going on today. "Please do not bow to me," I requested softly. "We have fought and it seems inappropriate to me that, without there being a martial decision, we cannot be sure who should be more respectful to whom," I suggested. Selena quickly switched gears. She and her two female companions were now openly staring at me. "My Sith Lady is most likely preparing for trouble at my most vulnerable point," I told Selena. "I'm much more trouble than I first appear," I added. A hiccup in the conversation took place. "You are the male Head of an Amazon House; how?" Selena questioned. "My father and the fathers before him carried the genes of the original Ishara. When Her daughters died out, the legacy fell to me," I explained. Really smart girls; really, really smart girls. "You do not have any daughters, so your first born daughter will be the next Head of your House," the Hashashin noted quickly. "Of any line?" Ah, the siren call of 'please have unprotected sex with me, Mr. Studmuffin. Not only will I walk bow-legged for a week afterwards, I'll have a political tool to use for a lifetime.' "Yes, that is true. Please understand, unless you can catch a thrown tomahawk with your feet, I can't say you are at the top of the list," I sighed. "Speaking of the acrobat of my dreams, how are you doing Miyako?" I knocked away at the barrier between our respective groups. I could hardly be considered an Amazon if I wasn't stacking the odds against the Condotteiri, now could I? On came that child-like Nipponese girl's smile that made me want to double-check her ID for proof of age. "It is recovering nicely. Thank you, Ishara-sama," she smiled warmly. "May I see?" I inquired. Miyako nodded so I went down until I was balanced on the balls of my feet. She deftly slipped out of one of her shoes, placed her foot on my knee then began rolling up the pants leg until the bandage was revealed. In the past few hours my medical knowledge had not increased one iota. I was pretty sure that Miyako knew what this doctor's visit was really all about. I gently massaged her leg from ankle to knee, examining it for flaws and weaknesses. I received some manna from Heaven when I stumbled upon a muscle spasm in her foot arch. I worked it out in under thirty seconds and she gave me a musical murmur of relief when I was done. I put her shoe back on and rolled down her trouser leg. "I would still like you to see our medic if you could spare the half-hour," I offered as I stood. "If it would ease any misconceptions about our first encounter, I will do it," Miyako changed her mind from last night. My next neural misfire was 'Did I pack enough condoms to do all these girls I've been promising to fuck since I got here?' "Estere Abed," the thinly-veiled applicant to be the mother of my first child introduced herself. I was at my father's funeral, I'd been hit with the realization that my incestuous aunts are going to emasculate the uncle I'd just met before they kill him, and I was talking to a woman with skin the color of well-seasoned Oak, eyes as dark as expresso-roasted coffee beans (so deeply brown they were almost black), a pale turquoise, virtually transparent pretend-burqa, with inner, skimpy clothing bits keeping her barely street-legal and visualizing what our daughter would look like. "I am of Kurdish extraction," she lowered her head minutely. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Not only was a-bed something I was seriously considering with this woman, Estere was a Kurdish name of Old Persian extraction. It meant Ishtar; who was the advanced incarnation of Ishara. Bitch; aimed up at my Matron Goddess and Ancestral Mother turned Dominatrixes of my soul. "How; how mystically convergent that is," I grumbled. "I apologize. Me and my matron Ball-buster are exchanging psychic barbs at the moment. Had you somehow predicted this would have happened, I would be happier. With my luck though, this is accidental from the perspective of the mortal plane, thus a point of incredible annoyance to me right now." "Do you often talk to your ancestors?" Estere inquired politely. "Only after I've done something bad," I groaned. "Usually my Goddess is short on instructions yet always ready with 'I told you so'." "How can she chastise you for doing wrong if she fails to give you direction?" Estere was so sincere. I had to keep in mind she was a professional librarian with the nasty habit of misfiling people's lives. "I can tell you don't deal with the Spirit World much," I gave a sad grin. "The last time she gave me a prod, I was staring down a life sentence in a dog cage; after I was condemned, not before." "You escaped," she reminded me with a sparkle. I gave a harsh laugh. "No; no, I didn't," I said. "I'll prove it." I lashed out at Estere. She turned my strike aside and was about to do something I assumed would be unfortunate for me when she restrained herself. "See, Estere, you've been doing this most of your life. I'm a college kid who had a good fortune to meet and be guided by a series of stellar women." She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic. "I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match," I continued. "My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory." "But you like us," she observed. "I'm going to Hell," I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. "I might as well enjoy the journey." Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress. Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade. As he was from the Earth  and  Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble. I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E and S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly. Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive. A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire; so it would hurt them both; training, Seven Pillars style. "Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave," I started. They hadn't, btw. "I only ask for two things, please," I added humbly. "May I see her palms for a moment?" I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant; some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm; screw you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer. "I appreciate it," I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact. "Was there something else?" the leader finally gave in. "Oh yes," I smiled and nodded. "Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done." "Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?" I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality. I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them; emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia? "Beat it," I snapped with authority. "I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass." Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be; well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive. They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner. "Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems," she offered my hand to shake. In Old Kingdom Egyptian he said; "May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting," I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti. "It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue; or a close proximity," she smiled. Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication. We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace. The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake. "I do not understand you," Javiera grumbled. "You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed; something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that; relative of yours qualifies as human." "I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever," she continued. "Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do; that?" Whoops; jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy. "I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that; those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age; you wouldn't be alone," I sighed. "Is your mother dead?" she seethed. "Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you." "When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth," I confessed. "The only one who would know for sure would be; " "Your father," Javiera answered. I began crying all over again. That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real; working out, girls, books, literature and art; things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth. Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt. "Are you going to arrest me?" I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while. "For what?" Javiera snapped. "If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether." "Oh yes," Nicole winked at me. "I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate." Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look. "We need to go," Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped. After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one. "Did you really stab that guy?" Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way. "My family believes in tough love," I muttered. "What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?" was next. "Pre-teen beauty pageants," I sighed. "You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are." "It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator," he countered. "And if this was an interrogation," Nicole sizzled, "you would have to Mirandize him." "He has already been Mirandized," the puppy yipped. "Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit; clarify the charge for me," Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera. "What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there," Javiera informed him. The poor bastard looked perplexed. "I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first," Javiera glared at him. "Clear?" SA Street wasn't done yet. "They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out," Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet Another really clever lady. "Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation," Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way. "Thank you," I told Rachel. "That was very helpful of you." "I want the male to shut-up," Rachel answered. "He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is so wrong." I held up a finger to forestall Street. "Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet," I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap. "Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning," I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. "Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood." "You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it," I emphasized. "You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?" he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology; male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more. "Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?" I prodded. "No," he snorted. I kept staring; and staring; and then the idea began creeping in. "Where do you train?" Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him. "Please Rachel," I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit. "Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen," she rattled off in a monotone. "I am thirty." "What is 'craft training'?" Javiera inquired. "Learning to kill people and destroy things," she began. "My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper," Rachel replied. "I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?" Pause. Street snorted. "Do you ever sleep?" Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes. "Yes. Six hours; every day unless duty intervenes," she said. "Right; so, what martial arts style do you practice?" he asked. "Not one you have ever heard of," Rachel took a deep breath. "Try me," Street entreated. "I've practiced with several." "Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?" Rachel glared. "To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are." "You think you could?" Street challenged her. "I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan." "Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park," I reasoned. "In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole; kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter." That successful ended that diversion. (The wake) Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end. "Hayden," I sighed to my High Priestess. "Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri," she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr. "Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too," I confirmed. "Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up." "I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well," I added. "I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth  and  Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough." Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out. "We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cáel?" Hayden murmured. "Hey now," I reposed, "you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater." "I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut," she commanded. "The Council will be rightly furious." "With me?" I asked. "Of course with you," Hayden growled. "With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter," I lied. "The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet." Silence. "What? Why am I only now hearing of this?" Hayden inquired with a deathly calm. "Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?" I persisted. An oddly longer pause. "Katrina insists there is no data," Hayden seethed. "Of course there is no data," I snapped back. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me; don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return." And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me. "Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?" I asked her. "Yes Ishara," she whispered. "I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath." That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name. "You agree with me?" I blinked. "Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate," Charlotte answered. "I don't like you; okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you." By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself. Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood. "You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue," I teased Charlotte. "No can do, Ishara," she chuckled. "She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her." "I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant," I glowered playfully. I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me. "We have a problem," Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. "There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy." "Thank God," I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. "Quick and easy," I stated as the last one j

Of Funerals and Families; Part Two. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Birthed by stars, in immortal light, so why do we assume we pass into Darkness.” A maniac conducted the orchestra, while every section fought for dominance without a thought to the opera unfolding under its twittering cacophony. That is how it felt as I steeled myself for the service, but my musings were a fantasy. I had a swirling company of my twenty inductees, two Amazons, plus Rachel's detail and Esmeralda coordinating all the traffic. Pamela was absent. Buffy was the one in charge, deciding who got how close and under what level of scrutiny. The presence of law enforcement was made obvious by our vigilance, with mutual hostility being declared. The government was catching up with how they'd been screwed over. They couldn't prove a thing yet, although they had missed an entire day trailing after me. They also had new leadership. Pamela had expelled Theodora with the simple application of Conflict of Interest. Nicole and Pratt had joined me in my suite, so I was suitably armored when the Feds made their next run at me. I had stepped up in the world, so I was rewarded with a new attack plan. Her name was Assistant Federal District Attorney Javiera Castello, and two seconds of eye contact made precisely transparent what a hurricane she was going to bring to my life. Sex? Oh yeah, she was already figuring what penitentiary to send me to so she could make monthly visits. An impressive dicking wasn't going to save me this time. She was professional, polite and courteous concerning my mourning without being false. Theodora's strategy assumed I was the man who graduated from Bolingbrook a few months back. My history was clear and muddy enough to be real. I was what my documentation said I was; until Havenstone. Theodora had waved the flags and charged the barricades only to discover too late that my defenses weren't manned by a lone yahoo with a bow and arrow, but with mortars and machineguns and her troops had been scattered, her plans shredded. Javiera had my measure now. I was a Prince. Of what, she didn't know yet. She was going to find out. Not out of some fatalistic curiosity, but because that's where the bread crumbs led. Dad was what he appeared to be, that plot of land was relatively worthless and two groups of professional killers had fought and died dragging my father either away, or to safety. I work with some scary-smart ladies. "Ms. Castello, would you care to travel with me to the service?" I turned to her at the last moment. I was a clever puppy, good with women and I wasn't trying to be a politician. Javiera took my gesture for what it was; an olive branch. I was offering to be less of an obstructionist, and she was willing to forgo retribution for my earlier stunts. Five minutes down the road in the stretch limo, I could see the question eating Javiera up inside. She was honoring my melancholy; I could almost hear Dad saying, 'Son, you have company' as a persistent reminder to his petulant teenage slacker that I was a member of the Human Equation. "What do you want to ask me?" I gathered my civility to the fore. Nicole shifted so that we were making eye contact. "Is there a limit to how many questions?" she started off with. I didn't say 'One and that was it'. "I've been told it will take us thirty-two minutes to the cemetery," I looked at my watch. "That gives us; twenty-six minutes," I offered. "Why all the hostility?" led the charge. "A variety of people consider my life to have some value. For a few it is personal. For most, they attach a more esoteric price tag on my existence," I replied. "That is vague enough to be useless," she gently scolded me. Oh, I could see that both Javiera and Nicole were about to play Nutcracker with my heritage until it was the consistency of warm peanut butter. "I am the member of not one, but two secret societies," I kept steady eye contact with her. Yes; there was that look I was slowly becoming accustomed to; that one that conveyed 'what you said made no sense, so why aren't you lying to me?' "Which ones?" Javiera rebounded quickly. "Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time," Nicole reposed. "Nicole," I patted her knee, "how would you feel if you got Javiera murdered?" "That thought shouldn't even be;” she stated. "Nicole, I'm worried enough about you. People know I like you, so they may not kill you for looking in the wrong trash bin," I explained. "She doesn't even have that rather tenuous screen." "Was it one, or both secret societies that shot and killed your father?" Javier continued. "Without a doubt it was an accident. The all-female group was simply scouting the location out as part of forming a contingency plan," I said. "The other group showed up to kidnap my father to interrogate him; I'm not going to tell you why." "The first group identified themselves and the second group began shooting. In the process of grabbing my father, they shot him three times. In the process of taking him to one of their cars, the living lady engaged them in a final firefight. They abandoned my father and left." "You seem to know a great deal about what happened," Javiera noted. "I've seen the footage the first group took from their helmet cams," I told her. "Is there any way I could see that?" she prodded. "By no human means I can think of," I shrugged. "Feel free to ask that extremely venomous lady sitting next to you. Her name is Rachel," I made the introduction. "She remains under the impression that killing people around me will somehow save me from myself," I added. "I not only trust her, I trust her with the lives of my daughters." "You don't have any children we are aware of," Javiera wondered. "Rachel knows what I mean," I gave a lopsided grin. Rachel knew alright. I wasn't asking her to save me with that statement. I was asking her to save my future. "What is with all the women? I'm a believer in gender equality. You seem to lack any male employees, period. Is this a permutation of a harem?" Javier opened another line of investigation. Rachel and Buffy quickly snorted their amusement then returned to their not-so-subtle aggression. I was sure my chauffeur, Tiger Lily, was snickering it up too, beyond the glass. Sigh. "That was uncalled for," I frowned at the Fed. "Five Google searches and you should know all about Havenstone's hiring practices. Ask what you want to ask. Don't try to trick me. I am definitely not in the mood." "Why are you in charge; a male over Havenstone employees that certainly have more skill and experience at; just about everything?" Javiera came clean. "Put on your hip-waders," I groaned. "This is going to suck." I waited until I had her undivided attention. "A long time ago, I killed a group of really bad people," I grunted. I could see that she wasn't buying it despite her interrogation senses saying I was being truthful. "When I say a long time ago, I mean about 2500 years ago." Sigh. "Before you start tossing Thorazine at me, all you need to accept is that every one of those women around me believes that to be true." "So this is a cult?" Javiera inquired bravely. "Put it this way. I'm sure you practice a martial art of some kind. You probably have a chromatic belt that you are rather proud of. It will not help you. These women are professional killers. I'm pretty sure there are a dozen unidentified corpses that could be attributed to these two." I already knew that Buffy killed some guys. Rachel? She was a team leader, so I was willing to have faith in her ability to remorselessly end another person's life. Javiera must have volunteered for my personal fiasco. "Are you being held against your will?" she looked so vigilant and intent. "I can get you out." "No," a dry chuckle. "I'm; not good; getting by. There is no way in Hell I'm leaving Havenstone. I can hardly kill all the people responsible for my father's death if I did that." "If you seek personal vengeance, I will be forced to bring every legal power to bear to stop you," she felt bound to threaten me. "Don't stop being you on my account, Ms. Castello," I finally managed a smile. It was sincere and Javiera knew it. "Who? Maybe I can catch them before you do?" she offered me an escape clause. "You will know it when you see it," I took a deep breath. "Do not try anything at the funeral," she warned me. "Law enforcement will be all over the place." She really wanted to screw me in prison. I knew those things. "I'm not going to kill them there," I assured her. "They will be the ones running for their lives though." "How is that going to work?" Nicole finally broke my silence. "I have 27 ladies willing to kill on my command," I exaggerated. "When I tell those men I know they were responsible and that they should run for their lives, they are going to run for their lousy stinking lives." "But you are not going to give the order to have them killed," Javiera stated. She was getting my measure now. "No, but they don't know that and being horrible human beings, they will assume that I will have them murdered over my father's grave," I turned positively wolfish. "They will run and they will keep running because of you and yours, Javiera. They won't have guns because they don't want to be arrested," I finished. "Why are they afraid to be arrested?" Javiera was putting the puzzle together. That was our deal after all. "I can have repeated, heavenly sex on a train with a nun," I confessed. "I'm pretty sure I can arrange to have a scumbag killed in prison." "I think we can both agree my client is under a great deal of stress at this time," Nicole intervened. "I think we can agree your client is not Al Capone, much less Osama bin Laden," Javiera allowed. "I still think he is exceedingly dangerous." "Dangerous? Dangerous is dating in this town," I groaned. "Went out late last night to a dance club, met two sweet girls visiting the Windy City, stepped outside and they tried to kill me." "Do these two count as 'public'?" Buffy snarled. She meant Javiera and Nicole. Pratt was in another car and the only others with us were Rachel and me. This was going to hurt. "No," I sighed. Wham! The Charlie Horse from Hell! "That's why you have bodyguards, you jerk," Buffy nearly cried. "Ah; we were with him," Rachel tapped Buffy's upper arm. "Oh." Long pause. "I; I apologize," Buffy said sheepishly. "I had no idea you were getting smarter." That was probably the best apology I was going to get. It was still my fault. "You do it out of love, Buffy," I rubbed my arm. Buffy gave me a heartbreaking smile. "Was that domestic violence, or assault?" Javiera snarled. "Neither one is allowable under Illinois law." "It is a Human Resources Team-building tool," I lied. "In some places it is called Obedience Training, or Negative Reinforcement." "I have never seen another human being take a beating like Cáel can," Rachel complimented me. "He is also incredible in the bed room," Buffy added on. Javier didn't know what to make of the menagerie of 'not-normal' women who hung around me. She locked eyes with Buffy. "I mean Really fantastic," Buffy licked her lips. Nicole nodded in agreement. "I can't use any of this," Javiera muttered after several minute of silence. "It is all a type of shared delusion; with fourteen dead bodies attached to it." "Ah, the guy with both femoral arteries shot out made it? Whoa, we've got some top notch surgeons in this city," I nodded. "Yes. As opposed to those two men who had their heads shot off," Javiera added bitterly. Reminding her that poor Horace of the Burnham PD had done the deeds was pointless. "Who died?" I attempted some reciprocity from Javiera. She'd read through every public aspect of my life and had talked to me for less than ten minutes. She excelled at her craft; punishing lawbreakers. "I conclude you know the name of the three dead women and the one living one," she began, "because we haven't a clue who they really are. Their cover identities aren't perfect. We simply can't get anything about them behind the fallacy of their existence." She waited. "If you can help us put the wounded woman in some sort of shared protective custody, I can probably 'suggest' that she be more cooperative," I counter-offered. Rachel nodded. "The eight other bodies at the house;” Javiera shook her head. "Four were dead and by that I mean reported dead from four to nine years ago. The rest; Hell, they were all twisted fucking savages. Every one of them had Interpol warrants out for them, for questioning. No accusations seemed to stick to them: misplaced evidence, dead witnesses and falsified death certificates." "Does this mean anything to you?" Javiera paused to get some more information. "Yes. Reference the men running for their lives," I nodded. "Cáel?" Rachel cautioned me. "This is not something you can rush into." "Actually, it was you who clued me in, Rachel," I looked at her. "Given an opportunity to have only one gun of a given type, would you choose one you knew intimately, or a totally random one?" was my rhetorical question. Professionals trained with a large variety of weapons, yet every Amazon I had met had a preferred weapon; one that if they could have it with them, they would. "The Zastava M2," Rachel nodded. "It is not used in too many places and only Peru in this hemisphere. Someone really loved that gun; enough to bring it from whatever killing field where he was currently employed to my home," I said. "Since the other likely culprit passed on a chance to kill me last night, I am sure enough to pick a fight." (Holy Cross) It had to be odd in so many ways for the people who knew Dad and, to a lesser extent, me. They gathered by the graveside. It wasn't much. Dad had been cremated as had Mom. They had these small granite markers; no headstones for them. They had been so much in love. All they wanted is to be laid to rest, side by side. Mom had insisted on cremation. I thought I knew why, but it had done no good. The true oddity was obvious. The islet of normalcy was the small funerary party with me. My Aunt; my Father's Sister; was here and somewhat in shock. She and Dad hadn't been close; so much unsaid. When my Grandparents died, Dad was only nineteen and Stella was sixteen. Stella's lifelong friend had moved to Maryland a few months previously. Stella reached out to her friend, her friend's parents talked to Dad and Stella went to off to be a mariner. Seeing her occasionally as I was growing up was the extent of our relationship. The priest did his thing. I wondered what Christ thought of this mystic fur ball that was the amalgam of my life. My hope was that he was quietly urging me to do the right thing. The Padre finished, the co-workers and neighbors came by to give their condolences and then ran the gauntlet. The gauntlet? Yes, the herd of Amazons, O'Shea kin and four other clumps of people who I didn't know, yet undoubtedly would soon. Selena and Miyako were present along with a third female who looked luscious in a burqa-shaped covering and a diaphanous veil. Javiera, Pratt and Nicole were somewhat out of place with their lack of arrogant lethality. A limo driver came to take Stella away. "I have some issues to deal with, Aunt Stella," I comforted her. "Vér a vér." It had been ages since she'd heard Hungarian so she wasn't sure what I meant, but she knew it was bad. One of my O'Shea aunts was coming my way until the menace of the closing Amazons halted her. The others had no clue what they were about to behold. I doubt outsiders had ever been privileged to witness anything like it. This was a declaration; it was my mission statement. Ishara did not hide. I took off my coat, folded it, placed it on the damp grass then knelt on it. Buffy stepped up with the bowl of incense and followed my 'coat to keep your knees clean' stunt, sitting perpendicular on my right. Helena followed suit on my left, placing a shroud over my head and leaned over the bowl. Gamble number one: the incense lit up instantly. Gamble number two: it really did burn my eyes; no more Desiree slapping me around. I was sure she'd be heartbroken. Gamble number three: while using my nifty little Amazon blade to gather my tears, I managed not to cut myself. The inductees were much more impressed when they realized what I was doing under my head covering. The next step had me pulling back the shroud, standing up, and striding over the burning bowl of incense. Helena called out the first name. The lady didn't need any prodding. The Amazon walked over to my coat and knelt. Helena wrote down her name and handed her the slip of paper. My Keeper motioned to the bowl. The first applicant placed her named slip of paper on the embers. The simple message flashed up and was consumed. That was unlooked for. I declared her old self dead. With my tears, I opened her eyes to our ancestral history and with blood, I brought her into our future. She had entered House Ishara. She wasn't the only one crying either. What Rachel and her team thought was unknown to me. They were being hyper-vigilant. Esmeralda kept stealing glances our way. Things went along with joyous solemnity until the fourteenth woman, Alicia, knelt before me. Helena handed the paper over, the Amazon dropped it on the incense and nothing happened. I was about to move on to the next part of the ritual when I caught sight of that. Buffy, Helena and the lady were all staring at the offending bit of tinder. I bent over and, with my index finger, pushed it into the embers. Nothing; no heat, or fiery consumption. I put some spit on my finger and pushed again. This time it burned me. The paper was fine. Damn it; 'Come on Ishara!' I screamed mentally. 'Can't I have a simple bit of theater without you mangling someone's dreams?' There was no supernatural scolding, or retort. "Alicia, Ishara believes you have not yet finished your walk outside our House," I consoled the woman; Alicia Holt. As she stood up, faced gripped with disbelief, Buffy rose and took her away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alicia shoot me a poisonous look. Buffy had anticipated this and was making sure the woman didn't make a scene. The last six women were even more nervous than the previous thirteen. Thankfully, Ishara was accepting of the remainder and we all transited to the group celebratory hug. Act one has passed safely, Act two had an unexpected bump and here came round three. The 'dignitaries' started swooping in. Outside of the O'Shea's, none of the guests wanted to have another group behind them, or hemming in them. Two of the groups held back and since one was composed entirely of Asians, I was betting the other group was the Egyptian Rite. One of my now four aunts came forward. My small crowd of Isharans gave her barely enough room to approach the grave. She placed a green rose upon my Mother's small marble marker. I wondered what my Mother would have thought of her sisters finally finding her; green rose? Who made green; probably the same sick son of a bitch who made female clones of himself? The other three followed suit, placing the roses in a radiating sunburst on the small piece of marble. Through the wall of Illuminati security came; the Missing Link. Oh My God. I had heard of V-chested males, but this was insane. I swear his upper arms were as big as my thighs. The problem was the hips and legs of the body didn't match-up to the torso, arms, neck (or lack thereof) and shoulders. The upper, steroid-addicted half belonged to a two meter tall giant. The lower half belonged to, maybe, a subpar man of a meter and a half This monster didn't have a receding hairline (actually, he did); he had a receding forehead. In homo-sapiens, if you roll a marble off their heads, it drops and hits the eyebrows. On this guy, it was a gentle ski-slope all the way down. "This is your Uncle Carrig," Brianna; I thought it was Brianna; made the introductions. I dialed up my Irish. Carrig meant; meant; 'rock'. Not 'the Rock' as in Dwayne Johnson. No, it meant 'rock' as in 'lump'. I had an Uncle Lumpy. How the fuck was I going to explain this at the next high school reunion? The answer was obvious. I'd parade out my four lava-stoked volcanic aunt-hotties and no one would be able to see old Uncle Lumpy over their sexual radiance. Perhaps being created in the form of a disfigured Neanderthal made Lumpy furious with the world. That might be why he wanted Grandpa to stay dead. Maybe; oh hell, Lumpy had serious family issues, as in he wanted to hump my aunts who only wanted to hump me. "Hello Uncle Carrig," I started out. "Thank you for; " "Shut up," he sneered. "I came here to see your whore of a mother one last time, not listen to your prattle." "Carrig, don't," Fiona intervened. "He is family." He took a deep breath. "I know why all of you want him in the Family," he snarled at his sisters. "Behave, or leave," I relayed in a far calmer voice than I felt. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," Carrig turned his hate back on me. He put a finger to his nose and cleared his sinuses. The resulting sputum he launched at my Mother's tiny rock reminder was dead-on the money, gooey, white and full of phlegm. I looked at that defilement. This red-hot poker of rage seared through my mind. Instead, I laughed. It started as a stuttered utterance but grew and grew into a rich, resounding conquest of death and despair. "Wow, Unc; that was kind of pathetic," I chuckled. "It is impossible to imagine you ever breathed the same air, much less hold any genetic resemblance, to the greatest criminal mastermind of the past millennia. Seriously, spitting on a piece of stone was the most your orangutan-like, sloped-headed pea brain could come up with?" "After that (cough) brilliant bit of diplomacy, he's probably glad he's still dead and didn't have to witness your infantile blunder," I added. He was getting pissed; torn between his desires to pummel me, rip me to shreds, or storm off like a raging King Kong. "You know, when they killed Grandpa, they told me he made a noise like a stuck pig," I mirthfully met his hateful glare. "For a moment, they thought they'd killed the wrong man." "They suspected you and Granddad were in the next chamber, him ramming you up your sissy-ass for the umpteenth time because you are nothing but a ball-less wonder of a cast-off eunuch," I kept taunting him. "Then they recalled that you always squealed like a piglet, not a full grown boar, so they completed their mission and left," I refused to flinch before his vile hatred. "You think you are funny?" he leaned in and hissed. "I think you need a breath mint; and I am hilarious," I grinned. "I also think I'm the son Granddad always wanted, not you." That was me being mean; really mean. "We are not done," his eyes narrowed. "Take your pulse," I mocked him. "When it stops, we are finished. Until then, brush, use mouthwash and floss between meals. Your halitosis is truly offensive and worse, I think you are aware of it, yet still you refuse to respect other people's personal boundaries." "We should go brother," Deidre beckoned. She couldn't hide her amusement at his discomfort and humiliation. Uncle Carrig pivoted and back-handed her. Deidre went flying, but my idiot kinsman didn't have long to savor his win. I hit him with two lightning blows. My first thought was that I had dislocated a few of my fingers from hitting his jaw. Wasn't there a Bond villain like that? Carrig turned on me, a feral fury brimming just beneath the surface. "That's a breach, you cocky, snot-nosed punk," he sneered. Mass carnage was in the offing. "You remain painfully ignorant, Uncle Carrig," I took a half-step back. "Take your punishment now, or later," he coughed. "It makes no difference to me." "First off, Carrig, timing should be a poignant concern. Second, you have only now expended a great deal of your meager brain power convincing everyone here we are related; kin; O'Shea's," I explained. "Also, can I have my knife back?" "Knife?" he blinked suspiciously. "Yeah, the knife I left in your chest," I pointed. I said I hit him twice. Uncle Lumpy looked down and, sure enough, my handy little 10 cm blade was between his second and third rib on the right side. I hadn't wanted to kill him. I had wanted to hurt him and apparently failed at that; while sticking a blade almost up to the handle (Amazon personal blades have no hilt) into him; "What; how?" Lumpy was slowly clueing in that he might be in some trouble. "Brother," Brianna stepped up; shooting me a sultry, 'bend me over the closest headstone and bang me like your Goth prom date' look. I actually didn't go to my prom, Goth chicks are fun and Brianna didn't have panties on. Trust me; I have ESP concerning such things. Of more immediate concern; "Carrig, don't pull out the knife," she placed herself between us, facing him. "You will bleed all over the place." "I'm about to ram it down his ass through his throat," he snarled, clearly educationally challenged. I'd left the blade there for that very reason; not have him fountain blood all over the gravesite. "How long is the blade?" Brianna asked me. She already knew the answer. "10 cm," I was polite, "as is the knife every other Amazon carries." "Reach around and pull out the blade when I tell you," Brianna requested. "I will keep pressure on the wound." I had serious doubts she had an MD associated with her name which meant she knew something I didn't. I also had a more pressing conundrum. Per instructions, I was about to be pressing against Brianna's backside with the added benefit of a free hand. "So, do you want me to pat them, or give them a good rub?" I whispered to Brianna. I'd let he decide what treatment her ass was about to receive. "I figure if I reach around and massage your breasts, Carrig will lose it." "Cáel, take a firm hold. Be doubly sure you are ready before we begin," Brianna instructed. It wasn't the Di Vinci Code, but Carrig wasn't about to conquer a Denny's Kid's Menu (it has little games on it) anytime soon either. Brianna wanted double penetration and, in the name of renewing family relations and my inability to resist any available woman for more than a few days, I complied. Then the horror came crashing in; I hadn't had sex all day and it was almost 10 am. "Don't move, Uncle," I cautioned him. I used those words to conceal the sound of Brianna's skirt zipper going down. I used my other hand to gingerly grab my weapon; the knife; jeesh. Brianna spread her legs wider so that the tension kept her apparel from slipping down. My free hand went inside and got to work. Fortunately, Brianna's hands pressing above and below the wound distracted Carrig from her cute, precious whimpering noises. I must be a total dick. I was stroking my aunt/clone mother with two fingers and teasing her bunghole with my thumb while pulling a knife from my uncle's chest. What is wrong with me? For that matter, Ishara could stymie the ambitions of some poor 'Runner', yet decided her prime minion doing this was a good thing? I work for some screwed up people; dead and alive. "Okay, I'm about to do it," I warned them both. Brianna was kind enough to roll her hips forward and ass up for more direct access. The blade came out, two fingers thrust into her depths, Carrig grunted more in annoyance than any physical distraction and Brianna gasped with piteous need. Before Carrig could start to connect A to B to C, I withdrew my fingers and zipped Brianna up. As I started to withdraw, Brianna acted like my loins were velcroed to her posterior. "Bad Girl," I quietly gave her a risqué reproach. She let me go. Then it hit me like a meteor; I had caused Brianna to orgasm, and hard, with one touch. In fact, she was still roughly riding through it. The mental discipline needed to mask her arousal was impressive. She had no control over her aromatic qualities, Lumpy's nostrils were working fine and his hateful, beady rodent-like eyes latched back on me. "I'm going to kill you," he screamed. Carrig definitely wanted to screw his sisters and they had certainly been denying him. I was curious how that had been accomplished. As he shoved Brianna aside, my suspicion about the seriousness of my wound to his chest was confirmed. I hadn't punched through his heavy corded muscle tissue; with a 10 cm blade. Fuck a duck. If Uncle Carrig got those horrifically huge paws of his on me, I'd be paper-mâché in a hurricane; turned into veal; the very tenderized kind. That wasn't going to happen because of a little factor called crowd density. Most notably, he was in the midst of a passel of Amazons invested in my well-being. A sliver of the O'Shea family dynamic took hold. As usual, it sucked to be me. The four O'Shea ladies rallied around Carrig, cautiously pulled him back then ushered him into the steely embrace of their security. Why did that mean it sucked to be me? In a momentary visual exchange, I understood what Lumpy instinctually sensed when he showed up today. His reign as the place-holder for me was coming to an end. The second my Aunts recruited me over to their side, he was a goner. Obviously they had all the real intellect on that side of the clan. Poor Lumpy merely stomped around and acted like the socially maladjusted homicidal maniac he was. Once the journey to Grandpa's house began, he would cease to have any value whatsoever. Behind his animalistic, dull eyes, we shared that. Tragically, but most likely by design, Carrig couldn't develop a new set of skills to adapt to the situation. The best example I could come up with was; Imagine the last of the super-large amphibious predators confronting the first of the true dinosaur apex carnivores. Somewhere in that tiny amphibian brain, it knew it was screwed. Evolution simply hadn't left it an 'out'. It couldn't get bigger, faster, or more ferocious. It had maxxed out those traits for that model. Nope, it was toast and nothing could save it. As I processed that, the rest of that train of thought came tumbling down. Lumpy was a dead man. He'd hit one of his sisters in front of me which was precisely what they wanted. Deidre hadn't come by my place on Monday to warn me that Uncle Blockhead was trying to kill me. She was prepping me for the knowledge that they had killed Lumpy; to save me. Those incestuous nightmares had trotted Uncle Carrig out like a Barnum  and  Bailey Sasquatch, to loud acclaim and fanfare. Before I could do some in depth research/check to see if this was the 'real' Sasquatch, he would vanish aka be killed to save me. Well played ladies. They should have taken into account I worked for Katrina Love. Katrina undoubtedly played three-dimensional chess on-line so she could lure out the true Vulcans trapped on Earth. My aunts' straw man wasn't going to cut it. Back to the reality that included my father never again enjoying my meandering thoughts over dinner. Back to the other curious 'real' players as they moved in, having soaked up my ceremony and our O'Shea family struggle. If there as a benefit in that misadventure, it was the look on the faces of the two most distant groups. The ambassadors had on their poker faces. I was two decades away from having a chance of deciphering them. Foolish mortals, both groups had brought women with them though. That was not to imply that women can't keep secrets; they are among the experts. It wasn't secrets they were defending though; it was the interaction between Brianna and me that opened them up. If you are a woman and you see a man bring a different woman to orgasm with his fingers in under ten seconds and you are NOT intrigued, you have been sexually neutered. Even if you are a lesbian, you want your lover to pick up that technique. From the level of interest coming my way, I could tell what their bosses/associates really thought of me. The lady who was already thinking how to pull me aside at the reception was also projecting that I had piqued her co-workers, despite their feigned disinterest. The one who was plotting out how to disguise herself as a maid, so she could hide in my bathroom closet until I came in for a shower this evening. Then the feigned interrogation/instructional demonstration could begin, which told me they had chosen to not leave Chicago today despite previous travel plans. The three assholes won the social dare contest and approached me next. They were cool, somewhat disdainful and not a party to the murderous program that led us here today. They were still Condotteiri, thus my enemies and slayers of my Dad. "Mr. Nyilas," a smooth talking Canadian male began, "I wish to pass on the condolences of; " "I know it was you," I broke in. The Canadian; Ottawa, I thought; stopped talking, allowing me to vent. "You killed my father, you fucks. Now here is your 'I got drunk and stuck my cock in a meat grinder only to discover some other moron plugged it in' bullet to the brain. I am not only Cáel Nyilas, I am Cáel Ishara and Cáel, grandson of Cáel O'Shea," I narrowed my vision to menacing slits. "I will let you figure out which Goddess is Ishara as well as the convoluted genetics that has resurrected male Amazons. I want you to know that my father was the Head of House Ishara. You killed a Factor of the Illuminati, the 'Voice' of one of the Nine Clans, one of your own Generals, a Grand Master of the Egyptian Rite, a Ba Wang of the 7 Pillars, or a Chosen Son or Daughter, of Earth  and  Sky "That's right," I let the fear sink in. "This goes beyond a breach, Dumbass. You BROKE the Truce and have ended the Protocols by killing an Amazon leader. I'm sure claims of ignorance by your Generals will be taken for the empty blathering they are. It is time for your blood to soak the sacred soil of my father's place of entombment." Having buried him and his two cohorts in a rockslide of truth, my final bluff passed unrevealed for the empty threat it was. I could see by the looks in their eyes. Amazons didn't care about law enforcement. They would kill those three, vanish into the surrounds then slink back to their secret compounds. It was how the Condotteiri thought Amazon's worked. "Or," I grumbled, "Are you going to make me and my sisters hunt you down and work for it. Killing you with our knives is going to be;” I was saying when their retreat began. I was going to say 'messy'. Those three took a half-dozen steps back then ran for it. Now the stage was fully set. The three members of the Nine Clans came next. I took a totally different tone. Selena stepped up to speak, bowing as she started to speak. "We wish;” she started. There was a lot of interrupting going on today. "Please do not bow to me," I requested softly. "We have fought and it seems inappropriate to me that, without there being a martial decision, we cannot be sure who should be more respectful to whom," I suggested. Selena quickly switched gears. She and her two female companions were now openly staring at me. "My Sith Lady is most likely preparing for trouble at my most vulnerable point," I told Selena. "I'm much more trouble than I first appear," I added. A hiccup in the conversation took place. "You are the male Head of an Amazon House; how?" Selena questioned. "My father and the fathers before him carried the genes of the original Ishara. When Her daughters died out, the legacy fell to me," I explained. Really smart girls; really, really smart girls. "You do not have any daughters, so your first born daughter will be the next Head of your House," the Hashashin noted quickly. "Of any line?" Ah, the siren call of 'please have unprotected sex with me, Mr. Studmuffin. Not only will I walk bow-legged for a week afterwards, I'll have a political tool to use for a lifetime.' "Yes, that is true. Please understand, unless you can catch a thrown tomahawk with your feet, I can't say you are at the top of the list," I sighed. "Speaking of the acrobat of my dreams, how are you doing Miyako?" I knocked away at the barrier between our respective groups. I could hardly be considered an Amazon if I wasn't stacking the odds against the Condotteiri, now could I? On came that child-like Nipponese girl's smile that made me want to double-check her ID for proof of age. "It is recovering nicely. Thank you, Ishara-sama," she smiled warmly. "May I see?" I inquired. Miyako nodded so I went down until I was balanced on the balls of my feet. She deftly slipped out of one of her shoes, placed her foot on my knee then began rolling up the pants leg until the bandage was revealed. In the past few hours my medical knowledge had not increased one iota. I was pretty sure that Miyako knew what this doctor's visit was really all about. I gently massaged her leg from ankle to knee, examining it for flaws and weaknesses. I received some manna from Heaven when I stumbled upon a muscle spasm in her foot arch. I worked it out in under thirty seconds and she gave me a musical murmur of relief when I was done. I put her shoe back on and rolled down her trouser leg. "I would still like you to see our medic if you could spare the half-hour," I offered as I stood. "If it would ease any misconceptions about our first encounter, I will do it," Miyako changed her mind from last night. My next neural misfire was 'Did I pack enough condoms to do all these girls I've been promising to fuck since I got here?' "Estere Abed," the thinly-veiled applicant to be the mother of my first child introduced herself. I was at my father's funeral, I'd been hit with the realization that my incestuous aunts are going to emasculate the uncle I'd just met before they kill him, and I was talking to a woman with skin the color of well-seasoned Oak, eyes as dark as expresso-roasted coffee beans (so deeply brown they were almost black), a pale turquoise, virtually transparent pretend-burqa, with inner, skimpy clothing bits keeping her barely street-legal and visualizing what our daughter would look like. "I am of Kurdish extraction," she lowered her head minutely. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Not only was a-bed something I was seriously considering with this woman, Estere was a Kurdish name of Old Persian extraction. It meant Ishtar; who was the advanced incarnation of Ishara. Bitch; aimed up at my Matron Goddess and Ancestral Mother turned Dominatrixes of my soul. "How; how mystically convergent that is," I grumbled. "I apologize. Me and my matron Ball-buster are exchanging psychic barbs at the moment. Had you somehow predicted this would have happened, I would be happier. With my luck though, this is accidental from the perspective of the mortal plane, thus a point of incredible annoyance to me right now." "Do you often talk to your ancestors?" Estere inquired politely. "Only after I've done something bad," I groaned. "Usually my Goddess is short on instructions yet always ready with 'I told you so'." "How can she chastise you for doing wrong if she fails to give you direction?" Estere was so sincere. I had to keep in mind she was a professional librarian with the nasty habit of misfiling people's lives. "I can tell you don't deal with the Spirit World much," I gave a sad grin. "The last time she gave me a prod, I was staring down a life sentence in a dog cage; after I was condemned, not before." "You escaped," she reminded me with a sparkle. I gave a harsh laugh. "No; no, I didn't," I said. "I'll prove it." I lashed out at Estere. She turned my strike aside and was about to do something I assumed would be unfortunate for me when she restrained herself. "See, Estere, you've been doing this most of your life. I'm a college kid who had a good fortune to meet and be guided by a series of stellar women." She nodded. She didn't understand yet she wanted to remain sympathetic. "I'm playing catch up in an incredibly lethal chess match," I continued. "My advantage is I'm not fuck-nuts crazy like the rest of you people. I don't mean to insult you. I simply want to make it clear how I feel. All the societies are spiritually malformed blights on reality; evil, twisted and predatory." "But you like us," she observed. "I'm going to Hell," I risked much by brushing her nose with my finger from brow to the edge of the veil. "I might as well enjoy the journey." Since I returned with all the fingers I started out with, I could tell she appreciated my caress. Our other guests were getting restless, so I had to end our interaction there. A lone man approached. He looked to be a Turkish/Mongolian mixture and he was uncomfortable with the way the situation had developed. I doubt I had offended him. It was much more the scope of this informal meeting had gone way above his pay grade. As he was from the Earth  and  Sky, the Amazons' hostility simmered. I countered that by being as civil as possible. The emissary, Iskender, gave his condolences, I thanked him for his respect and entered into a small conversation. When he figured out who the Magyar were, he smiled. Iskender was a Kyrgyz, a Turkish people from Central Asia, and we bonded over our male progenitors having saddled up on our nomad ponies, making Eurasia tremble. I was putting forth the effort to make him feel welcome. That was the message for him to take home. Not all the Amazons were going to have their knee-jerk reaction to the E and S's goal. Next came the Seven Pillars, mainly because the Egyptians seemed ready to wait for the grass to devour them before coming my way. Now I had to pillage the vaults of my crafty interpersonal skills to do this correctly. Two men, endowed with as much racial supremacy as Ursula, if not more, introduced themselves. Slight bowing, polite English and the proper, rehearsed words flowed from their mouths. They didn't look down on me; the reason being that behind their perfect civility, they considered me and mine to be inconsequential. The nice female of an indeterminate South Asian lineage had that haunted look of someone made to do horrible things just to survive. A flash of the macabre dumped a memory of her strangling homeless people in some back alleys with barbed wire; so it would hurt them both; training, Seven Pillars style. "Thank you for paying your respects at my father's grave," I started. They hadn't, btw. "I only ask for two things, please," I added humbly. "May I see her palms for a moment?" I asked the man. The woman was clearly a servant; some sort of Palace Guard/Fuck Slave. The leader nodded. The girl was never consulted. Her hands came forward and they rolled so that I saw the scars on her palm; screw you, Ishara. I don't want to care about her. My day planner was more than full with anguish as it was. No answer. "I appreciate it," I smiled. I waited, keeping eye contact. "Was there something else?" the leader finally gave in. "Oh yes," I smiled and nodded. "Don't get in our way. Behave, stay put on that rotting, rubble pile of a decadent and faded civilization you call Heaven and let us do what needs to be done." "Is that clear enough, or do I need to send you both home with your irradiated testicles in jars?" I kept politely smiling and nodding. I was threatening to make them eunuchs with the bonus of having their precious genetics rendered useless. The girl was giving off minute reactive tremors. That was okay. I had been anything, but quiet. Twenty Amazons were ready and willing to make my threat a reality. I wasn't sure how they would break into Fermi Labs for the radiological material, but their resourcefulness never failed to amaze me. The two guys from the Seven Pillars were standing there, not sure what to do next. I had insulted and threatened them; emissaries. Didn't they realize Amazons had been killing poor bastards entreating them for peace for several millennia? "Beat it," I snapped with authority. "I'm done with you. Take my words back to your masters and pray they excuse your gutless reaction. Don't let the airport hit you in the ass." Ugly American? I was the God Damn Bearded Woman/Dog Boy American and their facades were finally fraying around the edges and not the least because going home and telling their bosses my exact words was going to be; well, the positive spin they put on it had better be impressive. They left with their confident poise while the Egyptians approached with a bit of trepidation. Calling me erratic and volatile was being overly kind. My bet was the older male was in charge, but my age and lusty actions convinced them to put the younger woman forward. The younger male bodyguard wasn't even paying attention to me. If the shit went south, he knew he was a goner. "Greetings Cáel Ishara, it seems," she offered my hand to shake. In Old Kingdom Egyptian he said; "May the Blessed Isis bring understanding to this greeting," I countered. Both she and the old man blinked. The rest was in the Egyptian of Ramses and Seti. "It is wonderful to see you speak our sacred tongue; or a close proximity," she smiled. Not only was she generally happy, she was also pretty sure a very unfortunate confrontation was not in the offing. The bodyguard knew of the language but not enough to make out what was being said. The young lady and old man were more than happy to switch to this rare form of communication. We chatted. Things like funerary rites, thoughts on the afterlife and the role of the supernatural in the modern world all came up. No secrets were exchanged and we actually went over some ancient jokes and ribald tales. Buffy's coughing brought us out of our reverie. They taught me the proper Egyptian Rite greeting and farewell, departing in peace. The Amazons were stirring. It was time to head to the cars then on to the wake. "I do not understand you," Javiera grumbled. "You insulted multiple people, including threats of death and dismemberment. You struck and stabbed; something, but not before he knocked a women nearly three meters. I am not even sure that; relative of yours qualifies as human." "I don't know how to approach you and that woman/aunt/whatever," she continued. "Was that incest, public sex, or sexual assault since I didn't hear her give permission for you to do; that?" Whoops; jealousy. Nicole was a half-step back so she could hide her insidious smirk. She already knew I was a bad, bad boy. "I don't know if this makes it better, or worse, but that; those women are not just my aunts. They are the genetic duplicates of my mother and if you think it is funny that they look to be about my age; you wouldn't be alone," I sighed. "Is your mother dead?" she seethed. "Normally, I would take a Death Certificate, mortuary report and a grave marker to be enough. Not with you." "When I was seven years old I saw her very sick in the hospital. I never saw her die, or the cremation, so with my crazy life I'm not going to swear that she's no longer of this Earth," I confessed. "The only one who would know for sure would be; " "Your father," Javiera answered. I began crying all over again. That was it. When I wanted someone dead, I was going to personally put a stake in their hearts, starting with me. This shit has gone down the rabbit hole. In that transitory micro-burst, I flipped. Not to crazy. I had spent my life believing in what was real; working out, girls, books, literature and art; things I could touch and feel, even if it was the air escaping my lungs as words, notes and sounds sprang forth. Now I had to take things on faith. Not 'faith' as in the calculated possibilities which is what most people really meant. I had to accept that there were things beyond my senses that I could not measure, or codify, and move my life forward understanding the total lack of a solid foundation I was basing my actions on. I needed to see Aya so much it hurt. "Are you going to arrest me?" I hiccupped. I was done bawling like a bereft child for a while. "For what?" Javiera snapped. "If I took this insanity before any judge I know, I'd be on Administrative Leave, if not out of a job altogether." "Oh yes," Nicole winked at me. "I was so looking forward to parading out the four identical aunts and the uncle/part-primate." Javiera shot Nicole a dirty look. "We need to go," Buffy reminded me. The only snag was the FBI guys, backed up by some Chicago PD, who intercepted Javiera as she walked with me to our limo. She had to separate for a minute to assure them she hadn't been kidnapped. After some rumbling, we were gifted with one FBI 'bodyguard' for Javiera. That was laughable. If a psychotic fit seized us, there would be two dead government officials instead of one. "Did you really stab that guy?" Special Agent Street Moslin asked once we were on our way. "My family believes in tough love," I muttered. "What sort of organized crime outfit are you with?" was next. "Pre-teen beauty pageants," I sighed. "You wouldn't believe how cutthroat they are." "It is a crime to lie to a criminal investigator," he countered. "And if this was an interrogation," Nicole sizzled, "you would have to Mirandize him." "He has already been Mirandized," the puppy yipped. "Oh? On the charge of Criminal Conspiracy to commit; clarify the charge for me," Nicole grinned. Street looked to Javiera. "What? Special Agent Moslin, consider yourself to not know a damn thing about what is going on and proceed from there," Javiera informed him. The poor bastard looked perplexed. "I will put your situation in context. The woman to my side (Rachel) is about to slit your throat. The woman (Buffy) next to Ms. Lawless is going to snap your neck. They do not give a crap that you, or I, are federal agents. The issue is not what will you do, it is which one gets to you first," Javiera glared at him. "Clear?" SA Street wasn't done yet. "They will get away with it because I suspect they already have such a contingency worked out," Javiera educated him. Javiera was yet Another really clever lady. "Call for our back-up vehicle, pull into a private driveway where you cannot legally follow us, abandon the vehicle, get picked up and leave the city on a private aircraft to another nation," Rachel sounded bored. That was so nice of her to assist Javiera out that way. "Thank you," I told Rachel. "That was very helpful of you." "I want the male to shut-up," Rachel answered. "He's grating. Worse, he's making me wish Pamela was with us and that is so wrong." I held up a finger to forestall Street. "Honestly Dude, she's is not messing with your head. She wants you to shut up, so please be quiet," I urged him. I conceptualized the assessment he was making. Crap. "Guy, whatever workout routine you think gives you the edge is what she does to warm up in the morning," I pleaded. Street had the 'she's only a girl' look about him. "Her combat training is with live rounds, real weapons and a plethora of scrapes, cuts and broken bones. I have little doubt that she's killed people, some in cold blood." "You being Top Shot at the local range and a Judo Champ isn't going to cut it," I emphasized. "You think she's some kind of Special Forces operator?" he mocked me. Javiera and Nicole got nervous. I didn't. Beginner's Amazon Psychology; male opinions do not matter. Rachel and Buffy weren't insulted because he was a chattering chimp and nothing more. "Have you ever heard of an all-female Special Forces unit?" I prodded. "No," he snorted. I kept staring; and staring; and then the idea began creeping in. "Where do you train?" Street looked at Rachel. Rachel was looking at him, not 'at' him. "Please Rachel," I requested. That was really for Javiera's benefit. "Physical training started at age five, weapons training at nine, survival testing at twelve, craft training at fifteen, and acceptance at nineteen," she rattled off in a monotone. "I am thirty." "What is 'craft training'?" Javiera inquired. "Learning to kill people and destroy things," she began. "My specialties are small unit tactics, security operations, electronic countermeasures and Recon Sniper," Rachel replied. "I am an accepted close combat trainer and handheld weapon expert. Do I need to explain any of that?" Pause. Street snorted. "Do you ever sleep?" Street joked. Rachel looked to me then rolled her eyes. "Yes. Six hours; every day unless duty intervenes," she said. "Right; so, what martial arts style do you practice?" he asked. "Not one you have ever heard of," Rachel took a deep breath. "Try me," Street entreated. "I've practiced with several." "Male, do I look like I enjoy talking to you?" Rachel glared. "To alleviate your obvious confusion, I do not. If you wish to lower the hostility level, hand me your pistol and the sap at your back. Your possession of said weapons in the presence of Cáel complicates my job. This is almost as irritating is restraining myself from taking them from you like the infant you are." "You think you could?" Street challenged her. "I was with the 82nd Airborne in Afghanistan." "Special Agent Moslin, she doesn't care. You might as well have told her you were a weekend security guard at an amusement park," I reasoned. "In her mind, being born with a penis renders all your accomplishments so much hyperbole; kind of how her having tits lowered your respect for her as a fighter." That successful ended that diversion. (The wake) Life was wonderful. I walked in the door of the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion, Charlotte pulled me into a vacant side room and handed me a secure phone. She mouthed the name of the person on the other end. "Hayden," I sighed to my High Priestess. "Ishara (not using my first name was a bad sign), I have heard a report that you have declared war on the Condotteiri," she gave me the 'I'm going to skin you alive' purr. "Yep and I urinated on the Seven Pillars too," I confirmed. "Don't worry about the Illuminati. I've got that alliance sown up." "I'm going to have a member of the Nine Clans give me my first born, Ishara daughter, so that prospective alliance looks good as well," I added. "I even managed to be diplomatic with Earth  and  Sky. It is not even noon yet either. No need to thank me. Knowing you are thinking passionate thoughts about me is enough." Charlotte looked like her eyes were going to bug out. "We are clear on the fact that there are fifty two other houses in the House, aren't we Cáel?" Hayden murmured. "Hey now," I reposed, "you said to not pick a fight inside Havenstone. You didn't say anything about these sons of bitches on the outside. I also added nineteen new members. Ishara rejected one who I now think was a closet Man-hater's man-hater." "I want you to come back to Havenstone immediately and keep your mouth shut," she commanded. "The Council will be rightly furious." "With me?" I asked. "Of course with you," Hayden growled. "With the aid of the Federal Assistant Attorney, I received computer discs with extensive and sensitive data on Havenstone, including pictures and locations of Sydney and Marilynn, your daughter and granddaughter," I lied. "The feds seized the Condotteiri's private jet." Silence. "What? Why am I only now hearing of this?" Hayden inquired with a deathly calm. "Do you want me to work with the feds to finish hunting down those last two killers while I send someone back with the data?" I persisted. An oddly longer pause. "Katrina insists there is no data," Hayden seethed. "Of course there is no data," I snapped back. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to EVERY MEMBER of the Host, not just the ones I approve of! If I had something that important, it would be on the way to you, if not already in your hands. My House Head has been murdered. Support me; don't support me. It doesn't change that reality. You have lowered your worth in my eyes, Hayden. We will talk of this when I return." And I hung up. Charlotte kept gaping at me. "Do you think I was clear enough, Charlotte?" I asked her. "Yes Ishara," she whispered. "I doubt a single ancestor misconstrued your wrath." That stopped me in my tracks. A rank and file Amazon using my house name was perfectly acceptable. A Council 'equal' saying it was the equivalent of your pissed Mom yelling out your entire name. "You agree with me?" I blinked. "Had it been Fatima, Beyoncé, or Ngozi there would be no debate," Charlotte answered. "I don't like you; okay, beyond your physical magnetism I do not like you. You are still the Head of House Ishara and we believe that the ancestors move through you." By 'we' I imagine she meant Rachel's SD detachment. A social paradigm presented itself. Amazons were surprisingly democratic for such an ancient society. Their bonds of sisterhood gave them greater liberty than any other group I'd heard of. All could take their grievances to the highest authority. They could hate me and die for me at the same time, in the same way Charlotte could be honest at that moment. I was her superior in rank yet her equal in blood. "You realize that if you tell Buffy about this she'll beat me black and blue," I teased Charlotte. "No can do, Ishara," she chuckled. "She's your sister and, quite frankly, you wove this disaster and if anyone deserves to remind you of the trouble you've wrought, it is her." "I would call you a heartless Amazon, but that's kind of redundant," I glowered playfully. I couldn't hide with Charlotte in the side room forever. It was my father's wake after all. Out I went and there was Buffy waiting for me. "We have a problem," Buffy murmured to me as I headed to the main reception area/family room. "There are some questions concerning your Aunt Stella and the Ishara legacy." "Thank God," I muttered. My crisis was momentarily sidelined. I moved into the gathering, letting Helena and Buffy bring the Amazon to my corner. "Quick and easy," I stated as the last one j

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..

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