Podcasts about Gatsby

In this episode of When Nicole Met, Nicole catches up with Cameron Beer for a conversation that starts with ponies, cowboys and a lot of fun, and grows into coaching, curiosity and five star ambition. Cameron talks about growing up around horses, learning through play, riding unfamiliar horses through GB Student Riders and why being inquisitive has shaped everything he does. They chat about coaching as a craft, why adaptability matters more than perfection, producing Gatsby, and how curiosity, not pressure, sits at the heart of good horsemanship. The episode also marks an exciting moment, with Cameron announced as the new host of the Foran Equine Grassroots Show for 2026. Highlights: Growing up with ponies and learning by having fun From cowboy days to international eventing ambitions University, GB Student Riders and riding unfamiliar horses Coaching philosophy built on curiosity and play Producing Gatsby and plans for the step up in 2026 Why grassroots riders deserve better support and visibility What's coming next for the Grassroots Show Guests: Cameron Beer, international event rider, Level 3 coach, presenter and incoming host of the Foran Equine Grassroots Show. This show is kindly supported by Bedmax, purpose-made, natural horse bedding designed to protect respiratory health, support hooves, and provide a clean, comfortable stable environment.

When a book publisher asked Wesley to write an introduction for a new edition of “The Great Gatsby,” he was confused. So many people had already written about F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel since it was first published in 1925. What could he add? And why him?But eventually, he realized he does in fact have a special relationship with this book. He has read it in three different phases of life, and each time, it seemed profound in an entirely new way.So in the final week of the book's 100th anniversary, Wesley talks to the novelist Min Jin Lee and Gilbert Cruz, editor of The New York Times Book Review, about why all three of them have found themselves in a decades-long relationship with this book.  Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. You can also subscribe via your favorite podcast app here https://www.nytimes.com/activate-access/audio?source=podcatcher.

Lidia García vista Todo por la música para hablarnos de la copla en los locos años 20. 

Elf on a Shelf: Part 2 Life in hob-along mode. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When she woke the next morning, Zach was standing next to the bed with a pain pill and a glass of water. "Terry's gonna be here in about half an hour. I could make you some breakfast?" he said, putting the pill and the water into her hand. Honey shook her head, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'd; I'd like to take a shower before I go; if that's okay," she asked. "Right; uh; I'll just set it up for you. I'll get your things together after you're done in there; if you still want to go, that is; Honey closed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to look at the silent pleading in his face. When the shower was ready, Zach carried her down the stairs and set her down in his large walk-in shower on the bathing chair he'd set up for her. "I, uh; I warmed up the water. The; soap and shampoo stuff is right here," he said, gesturing to a collection of bottles put down within her reach. "If you need anything, I'll be right; right here," he said, sitting down on the toilet, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Honey nodded and took off her nightgown and panties, putting them on the floor outside the shower. She leaned down and began unwrapping the velcro the straps on her boot, finding that she couldn't reach the last one. She opened her mouth to ask for help, but Zach was already sliding the door open to undo it for her. When he disassembled the boot around her foot and lifted it away, a slight whimper escaped her when the motion bumped her ankle slightly. Zach's eyes flashed to hers as she tried to cover herself with her arms, "I'm okay," she whispered. Clenching his jaw, Zach nodded, stood and left the stall. The water felt like heaven after the sad sponge baths she had given herself in bed. Her skin came alive in the heat and flushed a deep pink. "Is that too hot? You're getting red," Zach said, standing next to the door looking concerned. "No; it's perfect," she sighed. She twisted around to reach the shampoo and tipped it over, groaning as she watched it roll out of reach. Zach reached into the stall and returned it to her, growling in annoyance as he watched her try to squeeze some out with only one fully functional arm. Soon, he stepped into the shower with her, clad only in his underwear. "I don't know how you think you're going to do this by yourself; he grumbled, glaring at her as he massaged the shampoo into her long hair. "I'll figure it out; put a folding chair in the tub or something," she said, trying not to notice that the fabric of his underwear was leaving nothing to the imagination the wetter it got. "A fucking folding chair will slip. I'll send this one with you. You still can't reach shit, though." "I haven't done this before. I'll get better as I go." "Yeah, but until then, you'll; Look, you need to give me a call when you; so that I know you're okay." "You wouldn't be able to hear me talk; the water makes this growling noise," she said. "Well, why the fu; never mind. You call me before and after. No longer than 10 minutes, or I send Terry." "And he just does whatever you tell him? You're really kinda bossy." "Glad we sorted that out. Put your head back." With a smirk, Honey leaned back, letting him support her with his arm as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. After one minute, Zach began swearing under his breath. "I've been rinsing this shit out of your hair forever and there's still more! How the fuck is this possible?" Honey began giggling, despite the pain it caused her shoulder. "I guess you should allow me longer than 10 minutes to shower, then; she murmured. "Ten fucking minutes, or I send Terry." "Do you have any conditioner?" "Any what?" "Never mind," Honey said, trying to control her face. When he finally released her from being rinsed, Honey grabbed the loofa and put some body wash on it, washing what she could reach with her right arm while Zach glared down at her. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grated, roughly taking the fluffy sponge from her and then washing her with surprising gentleness. When he delicately supported and washed her broken ankle, he waited until he finished before looking up at her, "Remember, doctor says you can take off your boot for a while now and then, so that should help with the smell. I'll pack the extra sock so you can put a clean one on and wash the; well, just how the fuck are you going to do the laundry?" he asked, as if she created the concept of dirty laundry just to bother him. "Hand wash?" she suggested. "That won't work for these boot socks! They smell like gangrene or some shi;" "Well, now you're just flirting; she said, smiling up at him. For a moment Zach's face went completely blank, his eyes slowly traveling down her naked body as his face turned bright red, then he turned away and cursed under his breath again. "Grab onto my arm and I'll finish you up," he said, clenching his jaw and holding out his forearm to her, as he diligently looked away. Cautiously, she took his arm and tried to stand, rising wobbly on her left leg. Before she could gain her balance, her hand slipped on his wet arm and he pulled her tightly against him before she could fall. Body to body, they clung on to each other in the hot spray, each of them shaking. "Honey; you may notta noticed, but I'm hanging on by a fucking thread, here," Zach said quietly in her ear, "Try not to get yourself killed for two seconds." Honey nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist so that he could move his arms again. She felt him move the loofah between her legs and begin washing her private area, looking around the shower stall as he did. When Honey cringed and her breath hissed between her teeth, he stopped, "What's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her face. "It's; rough; she said, quietly. "Yeah, but it was fine when; oh; right; sensitive. Okay; he said, swallowing as he tossed the loofah aside and hesitantly reached his fingers between her legs. Honey leaned her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes, gasping when his fingers made contact. "Is that; is that okay?" he asked. She nodded and tried to move her legs further apart for him. Zach gently washed her, trying to think of sports scores, laxative commercials, or the accounts payable at the club, but inevitably his cock noticed that he was holding the woman of his dreams naked in his arms. When she shifted against him, trying to keep her balance, a breathy grunt escaped him as she inadvertently rubbed against him. "I'm sorry; she whispered, trying to give him more room. "Don't be; you're perfect; it's fine; he said, trying to think about anything but how it would feel to slide his cock between her slippery lips right at that moment. "Let me just get the; water; he gritted, reaching for the shower sprayer and directing it between her legs. Honey gasped and whimpered as the water pulsed against her clit, down her labia and over her anus again and again, feeling Zach's eyes on her as he did it, intensely absorbing her every reaction. She trembled as she held on to him, trying to remain calm. Finally, she raised her eyes up to him and opened her wet lips and whispered, "Zach; ?" "Hey, how do you guys want your eggs?" Terry asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Get The Fuck Out Of Here, Maggot!" Zach roared, as Honey squealed and released him, quickly ducking down to where Terry couldn't see her on the shower chair. "Scrambled, it is," Terry said, ducking out of the bathroom and leaving them alone again. Zach watched Honey begin to shiver as the room cooled off and handed her a towel. "Let me know when you're dry and I'll wrap up your leg again," he said, looking around the bathroom uncomfortably before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off his wet underwear from underneath. After securing her ankle in the air cast, Zach carried her back up to the bedroom, turned his back to her, and blocked Terry's kitchen view of the loft as Honey dressed. When she finished, Zach turned around again, his mouth hardening into a grim line when he saw she had put on her elf dress again. "You're; going, then," he said, frowning as he watched her wince at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to tie the thick red ribbon belt behind her back. He stepped behind her and took the belt out of her hands and began brusquely tying it. "I want you to stay," he said to the back of her head, tugging the loops into a tight knot. Honey hobbled around to face him, "Enough to tell me why you wanted to send that message to someone?" she asked him, her dark blue eyes somber. "You; you wouldn't want to stay if I did," he murmured, stroking the soft velvet covering her arms. "Then, I guess I should go," she said, looking away before she could start crying again. "Wow, nice apartment!" Terry said, following Honey inside her apartment with the bag of her clothes. "The blood stains really bring the room together; "Say what you will, it's all mine," she said, hobbling over to the sofa and curling up, exhausted. "Here's your mail. I gotta text Zach, he's going nuts; well, more than usual, anyway," he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. "Arrived at hellhole; Angel has typhoid; the tweakers give their love; send food stamps," he said aloud, typing into his phone as Honey went through her mail. "Let me go set up the bath chair; just the thing to class up the joint," he said, disappearing to the bathroom. When Terry returned, he found Honey white as a sheet, reading a letter. "Whoa, kid; you okay? Need a pain pill? Let me take you back to Zach's. You look like you really do have typhoid; he said, kneeling down next to her. "Um; yeah, I'm fine," she said faintly, then cleared her throat. "Would; would you mind taking that laptop with you when you go deliver the charity gifts to the firm? They; asked me to send it back; probably upgrading; she said, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks. Terry watched her for a long moment, his face grim, and don't mention it to Zach?" he finished. "Um; probably not?" Honey choked. "Ah, Honey; you have hospital bills. This is where a sensible person starts telling themself, 'Hey self, maybe I should go back to that really great guy that wants to take care of me," Terry said, closing her laptop and wrapping the power cord around it. "If he's such a great guy, why does he send people messages like this?" she asked, holding up the screenshot to him. After staring at the screen for a while, Terry let out a low whistle, "Now, see, Zach just puts it right out there. You gotta respect that. No wonder he got so much ass. He send this to you?" "He said he meant to send it to someone else, but what are you talking about? He sent this to me on our first date when he went to the restroom! I thought he wanted to kill me!" Terry canted his head and looked at the screenshot again, "Oh; yeah, I could see that. Especially if you got it without the dick pic," he said, nodding sympathetically. "No, see, this was sort of a sex S O S, if you will. A guy goes out with a girl like you, it's like a high-wire act. He gets all wound up, needs to blow off some steam, sends out a flare hoping someone can help him take the edge off things so you don't find out what a high-strung, rough sex freak he is. You're a big deal. He just didn't want to scare you off, Angel," Terry explained. "He; he wanted to go have sex with someone else after our date??" Honey yelled, incensed. "Only because he *liked* you so much!" Terry argued, winsomely. Just then, Honey's phone rang in his hand and he tapped the screen, "Honey's phone!" he answered. "Don't Ever Talk To Me Again!" Honey yelled at her phone when she saw it was Zach's number. "Ah yeah?" Terry said, holding the phone to his ear. "Yeah. Right. Be right over," he said, disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Honey. "What did he say?" Honey asked, grinding her teeth. Terry leaned over and flipped her phone back to the screenshot that had frightened her so much, "Yeah; pretty much that; just without the sex. See you when I get out of the hospital, kid," he sighed. During the next week, Honey took a bus to the city hall offices and applied for unemployment, used the library computers to send out her resume and read her email, and got no calls whatsoever from Zach. Gatsby's, however, started having trouble with their delivery service and three meals a day were accidentally delivered to her disreputable apartment. When she called Gatsby's about it, she was assured they were working on it and were sure to fix the delivery service problem; as soon as they got a delivery service. The following week, Honey got a knock at her door. Promising herself she would open the door only for the pleasure of slamming it shut in the visitor's stupid, handsome face, Honey hobbled up and looked through the peep hole. It wasn't who she expected, though. "Um, hi; she said, opening the door a bit and tightening her robe. "Hi Honey, I'm Jeff. You probably don't remember;" "I remember you," Honey said, opening the door wider. "Please come in." "Thank you," he said, coming in and standing with his coat over his arm as she hobbled back to the couch. "Jeff, I always wanted to call Gatsby's and thank you; you know, for what you did," Honey said. "For the 'angel shot.' I didn't realize I was on a date with the owner, at the time. I hope it didn't make trouble for you," she said. "You're kidding, right? He fired me on the spot," Jeff laughed. "Oh no; she said, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry." "No, it's okay. He hired me back as a manager a couple weeks ago. Said anyone who had the balls to do what it took to protect you, even from him, that was someone he wanted taking care of his customers. Actually said that, looking back, if you had been scared enough to ask someone for help back then and they *didn't* help you, well, he'd probably want to go find them and; and; well, the details don't matter, and they're probably illegal, anyway. The point is, we're good." "Oh, that's; that's good to hear. Is this about the delivery service problem, then?" "We don't have a delivery service." "Well, yeah, I know. I mean the meals that Zach is making you send me." "Um; I'm probably going to get my life threatened for telling you this, but we're not sending you meals. Zach's popping in and out with a lot of takeout boxes under his arm, but Gatsby's isn't sending you any meals, Honey. That's; that's all Zach." "Oh; Honey said, her cheeks warming. "Yeah, no I came to ask if you'd be interested in a job." Honey laughed, "I appreciate it, but don't think I'd make much of a waitress right now." "Actually, I kinda had something else in mind; Honey's heart pounded as the music swelled and she felt the platform descend, her legs dangling down clad in candy cane striped stockings and curled-toe shoes. Her dress was the same pink velvet and white fur trim costume as before, but the fabric was far more luscious and expensive than the dress she'd worn in the mall. It had arrived at her door with a seamstress tasked with making it fit flawlessly. Honey's eyes were closed out of habit, getting ready to sing for the clientele of the great room as Gatsby's "Elf on a Shelf." She knew he was out there. He always came out of hiding when she sang. A smile curled across her face as she felt the spotlight warm her body. She opened her eyes. After the show, Honey stripped off her tights and a stage hand gave her the air cast as soon as the platform had risen out of sight. Gingerly, she eased her leg back into the boot and began strapping herself in again. As she reached the last fastener, two large hands took the straps out of hers and began wrapping them expertly. Honey blushed and looked aside as Zach did it, and tried not to roll her eyes when he checked the other two straps to be sure she had secured them properly. His eyes wandered over her with nervous adoration, like he still couldn't quite convince himself she was real; even after the mundane work of feeding her, dressing her, and cleaning her all those days up in his loft. "Did you like the show?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. Zach sighed with relief, having received tacit permission to speak to her again. "Yes," he said. "Did you really like it?" she asked, her eyes twinkling, her smile growing bigger. "I really; really liked it," Zach said, nodding and pulling at the collar of the dress shirt that was having trouble containing him. He seemed to have only grown larger in their weeks apart. "So much that you want to go have rough sex with somebody else tonight?" she asked, her large and deceptively innocent, twinkling eyes skewering him. Zach's mouth set, "I; I don't do that anymore. I exercise," he said quietly, reddening and looking away from her. "Oh; I see," Honey said, nodding. Ignoring the hands he offered her, Honey rolled herself onto her good knee and clumsily pushed herself back up into a standing position, her skirt flashing him as she rose. "What the fuck is that?" Zach yelled, pulling her skirt up to where a large purpling bruise was blooming on her hip. Honey bit her lips and forced her face to stop grinning before she turned and faced him again. "What's what?" she asked innocently. "What the hell do you think? That fucking huge purple ass-shiner you're walking around with! Where the fuck did that come from?" he roared. "Oh, that? I slipped. You know, it's icy out there; she said brightly, patting his chest and hobbling past him to her dressing room. Zach clenched his hands and followed her, growling things under his breath that would make a sailor blush. She wobbled into the dressing room, leaving the door open behind her, wondering if he would follow her in. He didn't, but instead stood there in the doorway glowering at her like a gargoyle as she pulled some clothes out of a large Gatsby's takeout bag. Honey's ribs were beginning to hurt from trying not to laugh. Honey breath hissed through her teeth as she reached behind her, fumbling with the knot of her wide red ribbon belt, her shoulder still healing from the dislocation. Before long, she heard muttered curses and large feet stomp into the room and push her hands aside, untying the belt for her. She smiled her thanks up at him over her shoulder, and moved her hair aside so he could help her with the zipper. Carefully, he smoothed some more of her hairs aside and slowly lowered the clasp. "So, um; how would it have worked?" she asked quietly, the softness of her voice making him lean in to hear her. Zach cleared his throat, "How would what have worked?" he asked, his breath falling warm on her neck as he tried to unclasp the tiny hook at top of the dress with his large fingers. "If we'd gotten together that night; if I'd never got that message," she said. Zach closed his eyes and shook his head. "I would've taken you home. Maybe tried for a kiss at your door, if you looked like you wanted it," he said, his voice hoarse. "Cheek or lips?" she asked. He sighed, "Who am I kidding? I would've passed out from not breathing by the time I got that close." "And those; other things; would you have wanted to do those things to me? To hurt me; to scare me?" she asked, her voice shaking. Zach turned her to look her in the eye, and she wrapped her arms around herself, keeping the unzipped, loose elf dress from falling down. "No Honey," he swore, shaking his head emphatically, cupping her face and holding her tightly. "God no. Never. Never ever. I would've never let you see that side of me. I'd give it up. I gave it up. I'd go run ten miles before I even;" his impassioned vows were interrupted by a loud crack as a delicate hand slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" Honey said, trembling with fury before she winced and cradled her hand to her chest as Zach blinked slowly in disbelief, trying to process what had happened. "That's for deciding you'd just have a boring, unsatisfied sex life with me without even asking what I wanted, you; you overbearing ass! That's for offering only a part of yourself to me! That's for ruining our beautiful date because you were ashamed of the man I lo;" Honey's uncharacteristic rage was interrupted by Zach's mouth descending on hers and claiming it furiously, pressing her against the wall as her dress fell to the floor. The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began, and Zach pulled away from her, his face a twitching, terrifying storm as he stared down at her. He wrapped his hand around the slender wrist of her only functional arm and pressed it to the wall over her head. "You don't hit me like that; ever," he said quietly, breathing hard through flared nostrils. Honey trembled, staring up into his blazing eyes almost panting against him in terror; but also in something else. The corner of Zach's mouth curled when he saw her deep blue eyes dilate hugely, a heady, familiar scent rising up between them. "You don't fucking hit anyone like that; goddamn amateur. You wanna break your wrist? Jesus Christ. Get your ass dressed and I'll take you home, you little freak," he growled, turning around to give her privacy and hide the huge smile he couldn't stop from covering his face. When Honey came up panting for air, she was pressed against the wall of Zach's loft as he fumbled with the locks of his door with one hand. She was making good progress at getting his shirt off, but it kept bunching up around his arms, and the cuffs were still a problem she didn't even want to think about. Even so, she was blissfully occupied with the acres of warm bare skin and muscle that she had excavated. "This isn't my home; she said, looking around bewildered, "why does everyone get my address wrong?" "Probably because they've blocked it out after seeing your place. Shut up and tell me what you want," Zach said, carrying her over to the stairs until he saw a bit of her lower lip he needed to bite and had to take a break to do it properly. "Look, don't give me names, because then I'd have to kill 'em, but tell me what makes you hot, Honey; we're gonna do all of it and more. I'm making your dreams come true, tonight," he said, winding his hand in her hair as she dropped her head back to give him her neck. "Oh! Um; I liked it when;" "No names," he reminded her, covering her mouth. "Right; well, this one guy, he um; he wore a towel around his waist and bent over his dresser to look for his underwear? And this other time, he held this spoon out to me and I opened my mouth and he fed me. And; and; um; in the shower, he; he held me against him in the water and;" "Honey, are all these stories gonna be about me?" "Um; yeah?" "That's sweet of you, tryin' to keep me outta jail and all, but I need you to get to the part about cock and pussy. Stories about me aren't gonna help that. Cock, pussy, tongue, ass, tits, ears, neck, taint - what do you like?" he asked "Right; uh; I liked it when you washed me down there; my pussy; with your fingers?" Honey said, at a loss. Zach drew his head back from her neck and looked at her, his face growing uneasy. "Honey?" "And when you sprayed the water back and forth down there, especially the top bump part, that really made me feel amazing, kind of squirmy, you know?" "Oh Jesus; he said, looking as if he'd been hit in the head. "And um; I know I wasn't supposed to look, but your um; you know; p-penis; in the shower, when your underwear got wet? That was" "I don't feel so good; he said, lowering himself to the floor and sitting down on the stairs. "No, no, it's fine. We can do this. What's a taint and what do I do with it?" she asked, sitting down and cuddling up next to him. Zach held his head in his hands, "You're a virgin; not like an "everything but" Evangelical, but like an alien or something. I don't know if I can do this." "Look, I know how to have sex; I had health class, for Pete's sake!" she said, slapping his shoulder. "What the fuck did I just get myself into?" he said through his hands. Honey pulled his hands down from his face and climbed up in his lap, putting his arms around her and looping her arms around his neck. "Zach; I have been a very good girl; not just this year, but for a long, long time. I figure that makes it so I can ask for something really big. So, here's what I want: I want you and me; just being together. Not planned or rehearsed or trying to be impressive. You already impress me. You're the best person I know. You took care of me when you hated me. You took care of me, even when I hated you. I just want to see what it's like if we let go of all that and just; you know; love. Will you give me that for Christmas, Santa? Please?" she asked, leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. "I've; never done that before," he said stiffly, looking sideways at her, unable to turn his head. "I'll be gentle with you," she whispered, smiling and brushing her lips against his. Climbing down from his lap, she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs; until he lost patience with her hobbling and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the top. Honey smiled as he gently lowered her feet to the floor, then took his hand and worked on the buttons of his cuff, "You're really big, but you don't do that big guy thing where you act like nothing matters. You notice everything; I like that," she said, glancing up at him. Zach frowned, watching her and then looking around the room, uncomfortable. "That's just; you gotta do that. You can't just throw your weight around without knowing where it's going. You're gonna hurt someone that way," he demurred, unbuttoning the cuff for her and tugging the other loose, as well. "You give a lot, but you're not a show-off about it; you didn't even let me know it wasn't Gatsby's sending food to me," she said, pulling his shirt down off his shoulders, pressing her face into his back to smell him. "You needed protein, calcium, and vitamin D to build those bones again -- that ramen shit you eat wasn't gonna give you enough of anything; just empty carbs and fuckin' sodium," he argued, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at her. Honey smiled and nodded, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling it out of the loops. Zach swallowed, "You; you also needed vitamins C and K, so I made sure you got things like broccoli and fish and citrus; not; not everybody knows that," he said, drawing a shaky breath. "I didn't know that," she said, separating the hook and eye of his trousers and unzipping them, smiling when he cleared his throat and breathed faster as she lowered them. "You're smart, but you don't need everyone to know about it. You watch how people treat you when they think you're simple, instead; you want to know who they really are." Zach pulled his legs out of his trousers and laid them carefully over the chair, glancing over to the closet where he really wanted to put them instead. Honey smirked and turned to go get a hanger for him, and he swept her down onto the bed instead, going to get the hanger for himself and carefully hanging his pants to avoid any creases. Zach returned to the bed, standing in front of her knees where she sat, waiting. Honey moved her hands curiously over his hips and thighs, feeling the strength, the hours of toil and exertion he put them through; so that he could have control and be gentle when he needed to be. "You care about what I want; she said, swallowing and slowly sliding his underwear down his hips, gasping in surprise when his cock bounced out and waved at her. "You care about it even when you think I'm wrong; and it makes me love you so much; she said, trailing off and blushing. "You; got my clothes off," he said, looking down at her, his face a mix of bewilderment and wonder. "I guess you see all of me, now," he said, blushing for the first time since she'd known him. Smiling, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. She winced, reaching back trying to un-do her bra, and instead of helping her as usual, Zach narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. "You do that on purpose, don't you? Doing shit that hurts right in front of me instead of asking me for help. Showing off that fucking bruise to me at the club. Showing me what happens when I can't take care of you; you actually get off on driving me crazy," he said in outraged realization. "You really want to do that rough sex stuff on me, now, don't you," Honey said, her eyes alive with mischief. "Like you wouldn't believe; he said, flipping her over, straddling her back and unclasping her bra. Honey squealed and giggled when he laid himself out over her back, careful to avoid her shoulder and ankle. "You feel that cock, all hard and ready on your panties and between your legs down there? You don't get him now, brat," he growled, pushing her hair aside and biting the back of her neck. "Not until you beg me." "Okay! Please?" she asked, giggling. Zach looked over at her, trying to hold a stern face, "Yeah, that's not how this works. The way this works is, I make you want it so much that you think you're going out of your mind, and *then* you beg me." "Okay!" she chirped. "Oh, fucking hell; he grumbled, trying not to laugh. He nipped all over her back, enjoying her squeaks and gasps, wiggling under him as her need grew. She seemed completely unaware of how she was responding to him, but he proudly basked in her every flutter. He kissed down to the small of her back, hearing her breath stop and then resume at a pant when he began to lower her panties. "Zach; Zach; Honey whimpered. "Yes, Honey?" he smiled, kissing the top of the crease of her bottom, flicking it slightly with his tongue. "Does it; does it always go this slow?" she asked, raising her bottom to him and moaning when he slid his fingers through her crack, making her jump and then grab onto his thigh. "Are you in a hurry?" he murmured, stroking his fingers leisurely around her clit and into her vagina, "Some other pressing; engagement?" he asked, pressing his finger against her hymen and laughing evilly at her shocked, yet needful, reaction. "Yeah; it would feel good to have a hot deep cock in there, wouldn't it?" he asked, thrusting gently into her with his finger. "Zach; Honey moaned, squirming under him. "I like that word 'engagement; '" Zach mused idly, "don't you?" he asked, raising one of her knees up to her side, sliding his cock along her crack, wetting it until it glistened in her juices. "Zach, please; please; please; she gasped, feeling him rise up over her again, pressing against her entry, "I need you; she whispered. "I need you, too, Honey. I've needed you for so long; he answered, parting her lips and moving into her with slow, gentle thrusts. Honey trembled under him, holding her breath, feeling him fill her more and more, until with a slight sharp pain, she took him into her. "Oh; oh; oh; oh; she whimpered. "Just breathe, Honey. You're doing great; perfect. I'm not moving till you're ready," Zach said, reaching deep for control. A sheen of sweat broke over him at the sheer effort of holding himself back from plunging furiously into her body again and again and again. "Is; is this the rough sex part?" she breathed, reaching out to touch the hand he was using to keep most of his weight off her. Zach barked out a breathless laugh, clasping her hand in his, "I don't know about you, but this is about as rough as I can take it, tonight. You're fucking killing me, right now. But, being inside you; it's like magic." Honey moved her head and kissed his forearm, "Be inside me again, Zach; she whispered. With a low sigh, he began moving inside her, his hips pressing and rolling against her, his cock stroking a patient rhythm. She sighed with happiness, feeling him explore and claim her at the same time. His lips moved over her neck and back as he leisurely took her, whispering praise and encouragements, waiting for her to adjust to him. Before long, though, his words stopped, his body growing harder around her, his every muscle stiffening as he gripped her hand harder, his thrusts quickening until, with a soft, surprised grunt, he thrust deep and shook as he emptied himself inside her. With explosive breaths, he rolled off her, pulling her against him in the bed. "Well, fuck; he said in disgust between gasps. "Yeah; Honey said, snuggling back against him happily, "that was perfect; Zach snorted, "No it wasn't, you noob. You didn't come. I fucked it up." "What do you mean? What makes you think I didn't come? That felt great! Let's do that all the time," Honey said, turning in his arms so she could smile at him. "I would've felt it if you came, Honey; it gets tight and squeezes you, almost like it's sucking on you; drinking you down; he said, smiling down at her with rueful affection. "Well, I don't know how it's supposed to get any tighter than that was. I think you're expecting too much of me. Maybe I did come; she argued. "Honey, trust me; when I make you come, you'll know about it," he said, reaching down and caressing her clit with his fingers. "Oh, that's nice; you did that in the shower," Honey cooed, moving her boot up over his hips so he could reach her more easily. "I didn't fucking do this to you in the shower. I fucking washed you. I was a fucking gentleman. People cut diamonds with less fucking focus than I had in that fucking shower. I was just taking care of business, then," he grumbled, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. "I guess; I guess, I took advantage of you, then; s-sorry; oh; she said, raising her hips to him as her breathing became irregular, her head tossing from side to side. "Well, unless I'm wrong, you are about to really pay for it in 3, 2, 1" Zach said, when Honey screamed high and long, her hips bucking as she came hard, covering his hand in her sweet nectar and then bursting into tears. Zach held her close as Honey wailed in pain, stroking her body gently, "Yeah; see, that boot can do a lot, but it can't do squat about it when every muscle in your body wants to stiffen up as you come," he said, still soothing her. Honey slapped his shoulder, "That; that was mean! Don't you ever make me come again!" she panted against him, her face still twisted in slowly receding pain. "Uh huh; Zach said, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "we'll see how long that lasts, you little freak," he said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss her tears away.  To be continued in part 3, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 2 Life in hob-along mode. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When she woke the next morning, Zach was standing next to the bed with a pain pill and a glass of water. "Terry's gonna be here in about half an hour. I could make you some breakfast?" he said, putting the pill and the water into her hand. Honey shook her head, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'd; I'd like to take a shower before I go; if that's okay," she asked. "Right; uh; I'll just set it up for you. I'll get your things together after you're done in there; if you still want to go, that is; Honey closed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to look at the silent pleading in his face. When the shower was ready, Zach carried her down the stairs and set her down in his large walk-in shower on the bathing chair he'd set up for her. "I, uh; I warmed up the water. The; soap and shampoo stuff is right here," he said, gesturing to a collection of bottles put down within her reach. "If you need anything, I'll be right; right here," he said, sitting down on the toilet, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Honey nodded and took off her nightgown and panties, putting them on the floor outside the shower. She leaned down and began unwrapping the velcro the straps on her boot, finding that she couldn't reach the last one. She opened her mouth to ask for help, but Zach was already sliding the door open to undo it for her. When he disassembled the boot around her foot and lifted it away, a slight whimper escaped her when the motion bumped her ankle slightly. Zach's eyes flashed to hers as she tried to cover herself with her arms, "I'm okay," she whispered. Clenching his jaw, Zach nodded, stood and left the stall. The water felt like heaven after the sad sponge baths she had given herself in bed. Her skin came alive in the heat and flushed a deep pink. "Is that too hot? You're getting red," Zach said, standing next to the door looking concerned. "No; it's perfect," she sighed. She twisted around to reach the shampoo and tipped it over, groaning as she watched it roll out of reach. Zach reached into the stall and returned it to her, growling in annoyance as he watched her try to squeeze some out with only one fully functional arm. Soon, he stepped into the shower with her, clad only in his underwear. "I don't know how you think you're going to do this by yourself; he grumbled, glaring at her as he massaged the shampoo into her long hair. "I'll figure it out; put a folding chair in the tub or something," she said, trying not to notice that the fabric of his underwear was leaving nothing to the imagination the wetter it got. "A fucking folding chair will slip. I'll send this one with you. You still can't reach shit, though." "I haven't done this before. I'll get better as I go." "Yeah, but until then, you'll; Look, you need to give me a call when you; so that I know you're okay." "You wouldn't be able to hear me talk; the water makes this growling noise," she said. "Well, why the fu; never mind. You call me before and after. No longer than 10 minutes, or I send Terry." "And he just does whatever you tell him? You're really kinda bossy." "Glad we sorted that out. Put your head back." With a smirk, Honey leaned back, letting him support her with his arm as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. After one minute, Zach began swearing under his breath. "I've been rinsing this shit out of your hair forever and there's still more! How the fuck is this possible?" Honey began giggling, despite the pain it caused her shoulder. "I guess you should allow me longer than 10 minutes to shower, then; she murmured. "Ten fucking minutes, or I send Terry." "Do you have any conditioner?" "Any what?" "Never mind," Honey said, trying to control her face. When he finally released her from being rinsed, Honey grabbed the loofa and put some body wash on it, washing what she could reach with her right arm while Zach glared down at her. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grated, roughly taking the fluffy sponge from her and then washing her with surprising gentleness. When he delicately supported and washed her broken ankle, he waited until he finished before looking up at her, "Remember, doctor says you can take off your boot for a while now and then, so that should help with the smell. I'll pack the extra sock so you can put a clean one on and wash the; well, just how the fuck are you going to do the laundry?" he asked, as if she created the concept of dirty laundry just to bother him. "Hand wash?" she suggested. "That won't work for these boot socks! They smell like gangrene or some shi;" "Well, now you're just flirting; she said, smiling up at him. For a moment Zach's face went completely blank, his eyes slowly traveling down her naked body as his face turned bright red, then he turned away and cursed under his breath again. "Grab onto my arm and I'll finish you up," he said, clenching his jaw and holding out his forearm to her, as he diligently looked away. Cautiously, she took his arm and tried to stand, rising wobbly on her left leg. Before she could gain her balance, her hand slipped on his wet arm and he pulled her tightly against him before she could fall. Body to body, they clung on to each other in the hot spray, each of them shaking. "Honey; you may notta noticed, but I'm hanging on by a fucking thread, here," Zach said quietly in her ear, "Try not to get yourself killed for two seconds." Honey nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist so that he could move his arms again. She felt him move the loofah between her legs and begin washing her private area, looking around the shower stall as he did. When Honey cringed and her breath hissed between her teeth, he stopped, "What's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her face. "It's; rough; she said, quietly. "Yeah, but it was fine when; oh; right; sensitive. Okay; he said, swallowing as he tossed the loofah aside and hesitantly reached his fingers between her legs. Honey leaned her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes, gasping when his fingers made contact. "Is that; is that okay?" he asked. She nodded and tried to move her legs further apart for him. Zach gently washed her, trying to think of sports scores, laxative commercials, or the accounts payable at the club, but inevitably his cock noticed that he was holding the woman of his dreams naked in his arms. When she shifted against him, trying to keep her balance, a breathy grunt escaped him as she inadvertently rubbed against him. "I'm sorry; she whispered, trying to give him more room. "Don't be; you're perfect; it's fine; he said, trying to think about anything but how it would feel to slide his cock between her slippery lips right at that moment. "Let me just get the; water; he gritted, reaching for the shower sprayer and directing it between her legs. Honey gasped and whimpered as the water pulsed against her clit, down her labia and over her anus again and again, feeling Zach's eyes on her as he did it, intensely absorbing her every reaction. She trembled as she held on to him, trying to remain calm. Finally, she raised her eyes up to him and opened her wet lips and whispered, "Zach; ?" "Hey, how do you guys want your eggs?" Terry asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Get The Fuck Out Of Here, Maggot!" Zach roared, as Honey squealed and released him, quickly ducking down to where Terry couldn't see her on the shower chair. "Scrambled, it is," Terry said, ducking out of the bathroom and leaving them alone again. Zach watched Honey begin to shiver as the room cooled off and handed her a towel. "Let me know when you're dry and I'll wrap up your leg again," he said, looking around the bathroom uncomfortably before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off his wet underwear from underneath. After securing her ankle in the air cast, Zach carried her back up to the bedroom, turned his back to her, and blocked Terry's kitchen view of the loft as Honey dressed. When she finished, Zach turned around again, his mouth hardening into a grim line when he saw she had put on her elf dress again. "You're; going, then," he said, frowning as he watched her wince at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to tie the thick red ribbon belt behind her back. He stepped behind her and took the belt out of her hands and began brusquely tying it. "I want you to stay," he said to the back of her head, tugging the loops into a tight knot. Honey hobbled around to face him, "Enough to tell me why you wanted to send that message to someone?" she asked him, her dark blue eyes somber. "You; you wouldn't want to stay if I did," he murmured, stroking the soft velvet covering her arms. "Then, I guess I should go," she said, looking away before she could start crying again. "Wow, nice apartment!" Terry said, following Honey inside her apartment with the bag of her clothes. "The blood stains really bring the room together; "Say what you will, it's all mine," she said, hobbling over to the sofa and curling up, exhausted. "Here's your mail. I gotta text Zach, he's going nuts; well, more than usual, anyway," he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. "Arrived at hellhole; Angel has typhoid; the tweakers give their love; send food stamps," he said aloud, typing into his phone as Honey went through her mail. "Let me go set up the bath chair; just the thing to class up the joint," he said, disappearing to the bathroom. When Terry returned, he found Honey white as a sheet, reading a letter. "Whoa, kid; you okay? Need a pain pill? Let me take you back to Zach's. You look like you really do have typhoid; he said, kneeling down next to her. "Um; yeah, I'm fine," she said faintly, then cleared her throat. "Would; would you mind taking that laptop with you when you go deliver the charity gifts to the firm? They; asked me to send it back; probably upgrading; she said, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks. Terry watched her for a long moment, his face grim, and don't mention it to Zach?" he finished. "Um; probably not?" Honey choked. "Ah, Honey; you have hospital bills. This is where a sensible person starts telling themself, 'Hey self, maybe I should go back to that really great guy that wants to take care of me," Terry said, closing her laptop and wrapping the power cord around it. "If he's such a great guy, why does he send people messages like this?" she asked, holding up the screenshot to him. After staring at the screen for a while, Terry let out a low whistle, "Now, see, Zach just puts it right out there. You gotta respect that. No wonder he got so much ass. He send this to you?" "He said he meant to send it to someone else, but what are you talking about? He sent this to me on our first date when he went to the restroom! I thought he wanted to kill me!" Terry canted his head and looked at the screenshot again, "Oh; yeah, I could see that. Especially if you got it without the dick pic," he said, nodding sympathetically. "No, see, this was sort of a sex S O S, if you will. A guy goes out with a girl like you, it's like a high-wire act. He gets all wound up, needs to blow off some steam, sends out a flare hoping someone can help him take the edge off things so you don't find out what a high-strung, rough sex freak he is. You're a big deal. He just didn't want to scare you off, Angel," Terry explained. "He; he wanted to go have sex with someone else after our date??" Honey yelled, incensed. "Only because he *liked* you so much!" Terry argued, winsomely. Just then, Honey's phone rang in his hand and he tapped the screen, "Honey's phone!" he answered. "Don't Ever Talk To Me Again!" Honey yelled at her phone when she saw it was Zach's number. "Ah yeah?" Terry said, holding the phone to his ear. "Yeah. Right. Be right over," he said, disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Honey. "What did he say?" Honey asked, grinding her teeth. Terry leaned over and flipped her phone back to the screenshot that had frightened her so much, "Yeah; pretty much that; just without the sex. See you when I get out of the hospital, kid," he sighed. During the next week, Honey took a bus to the city hall offices and applied for unemployment, used the library computers to send out her resume and read her email, and got no calls whatsoever from Zach. Gatsby's, however, started having trouble with their delivery service and three meals a day were accidentally delivered to her disreputable apartment. When she called Gatsby's about it, she was assured they were working on it and were sure to fix the delivery service problem; as soon as they got a delivery service. The following week, Honey got a knock at her door. Promising herself she would open the door only for the pleasure of slamming it shut in the visitor's stupid, handsome face, Honey hobbled up and looked through the peep hole. It wasn't who she expected, though. "Um, hi; she said, opening the door a bit and tightening her robe. "Hi Honey, I'm Jeff. You probably don't remember;" "I remember you," Honey said, opening the door wider. "Please come in." "Thank you," he said, coming in and standing with his coat over his arm as she hobbled back to the couch. "Jeff, I always wanted to call Gatsby's and thank you; you know, for what you did," Honey said. "For the 'angel shot.' I didn't realize I was on a date with the owner, at the time. I hope it didn't make trouble for you," she said. "You're kidding, right? He fired me on the spot," Jeff laughed. "Oh no; she said, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry." "No, it's okay. He hired me back as a manager a couple weeks ago. Said anyone who had the balls to do what it took to protect you, even from him, that was someone he wanted taking care of his customers. Actually said that, looking back, if you had been scared enough to ask someone for help back then and they *didn't* help you, well, he'd probably want to go find them and; and; well, the details don't matter, and they're probably illegal, anyway. The point is, we're good." "Oh, that's; that's good to hear. Is this about the delivery service problem, then?" "We don't have a delivery service." "Well, yeah, I know. I mean the meals that Zach is making you send me." "Um; I'm probably going to get my life threatened for telling you this, but we're not sending you meals. Zach's popping in and out with a lot of takeout boxes under his arm, but Gatsby's isn't sending you any meals, Honey. That's; that's all Zach." "Oh; Honey said, her cheeks warming. "Yeah, no I came to ask if you'd be interested in a job." Honey laughed, "I appreciate it, but don't think I'd make much of a waitress right now." "Actually, I kinda had something else in mind; Honey's heart pounded as the music swelled and she felt the platform descend, her legs dangling down clad in candy cane striped stockings and curled-toe shoes. Her dress was the same pink velvet and white fur trim costume as before, but the fabric was far more luscious and expensive than the dress she'd worn in the mall. It had arrived at her door with a seamstress tasked with making it fit flawlessly. Honey's eyes were closed out of habit, getting ready to sing for the clientele of the great room as Gatsby's "Elf on a Shelf." She knew he was out there. He always came out of hiding when she sang. A smile curled across her face as she felt the spotlight warm her body. She opened her eyes. After the show, Honey stripped off her tights and a stage hand gave her the air cast as soon as the platform had risen out of sight. Gingerly, she eased her leg back into the boot and began strapping herself in again. As she reached the last fastener, two large hands took the straps out of hers and began wrapping them expertly. Honey blushed and looked aside as Zach did it, and tried not to roll her eyes when he checked the other two straps to be sure she had secured them properly. His eyes wandered over her with nervous adoration, like he still couldn't quite convince himself she was real; even after the mundane work of feeding her, dressing her, and cleaning her all those days up in his loft. "Did you like the show?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. Zach sighed with relief, having received tacit permission to speak to her again. "Yes," he said. "Did you really like it?" she asked, her eyes twinkling, her smile growing bigger. "I really; really liked it," Zach said, nodding and pulling at the collar of the dress shirt that was having trouble containing him. He seemed to have only grown larger in their weeks apart. "So much that you want to go have rough sex with somebody else tonight?" she asked, her large and deceptively innocent, twinkling eyes skewering him. Zach's mouth set, "I; I don't do that anymore. I exercise," he said quietly, reddening and looking away from her. "Oh; I see," Honey said, nodding. Ignoring the hands he offered her, Honey rolled herself onto her good knee and clumsily pushed herself back up into a standing position, her skirt flashing him as she rose. "What the fuck is that?" Zach yelled, pulling her skirt up to where a large purpling bruise was blooming on her hip. Honey bit her lips and forced her face to stop grinning before she turned and faced him again. "What's what?" she asked innocently. "What the hell do you think? That fucking huge purple ass-shiner you're walking around with! Where the fuck did that come from?" he roared. "Oh, that? I slipped. You know, it's icy out there; she said brightly, patting his chest and hobbling past him to her dressing room. Zach clenched his hands and followed her, growling things under his breath that would make a sailor blush. She wobbled into the dressing room, leaving the door open behind her, wondering if he would follow her in. He didn't, but instead stood there in the doorway glowering at her like a gargoyle as she pulled some clothes out of a large Gatsby's takeout bag. Honey's ribs were beginning to hurt from trying not to laugh. Honey breath hissed through her teeth as she reached behind her, fumbling with the knot of her wide red ribbon belt, her shoulder still healing from the dislocation. Before long, she heard muttered curses and large feet stomp into the room and push her hands aside, untying the belt for her. She smiled her thanks up at him over her shoulder, and moved her hair aside so he could help her with the zipper. Carefully, he smoothed some more of her hairs aside and slowly lowered the clasp. "So, um; how would it have worked?" she asked quietly, the softness of her voice making him lean in to hear her. Zach cleared his throat, "How would what have worked?" he asked, his breath falling warm on her neck as he tried to unclasp the tiny hook at top of the dress with his large fingers. "If we'd gotten together that night; if I'd never got that message," she said. Zach closed his eyes and shook his head. "I would've taken you home. Maybe tried for a kiss at your door, if you looked like you wanted it," he said, his voice hoarse. "Cheek or lips?" she asked. He sighed, "Who am I kidding? I would've passed out from not breathing by the time I got that close." "And those; other things; would you have wanted to do those things to me? To hurt me; to scare me?" she asked, her voice shaking. Zach turned her to look her in the eye, and she wrapped her arms around herself, keeping the unzipped, loose elf dress from falling down. "No Honey," he swore, shaking his head emphatically, cupping her face and holding her tightly. "God no. Never. Never ever. I would've never let you see that side of me. I'd give it up. I gave it up. I'd go run ten miles before I even;" his impassioned vows were interrupted by a loud crack as a delicate hand slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" Honey said, trembling with fury before she winced and cradled her hand to her chest as Zach blinked slowly in disbelief, trying to process what had happened. "That's for deciding you'd just have a boring, unsatisfied sex life with me without even asking what I wanted, you; you overbearing ass! That's for offering only a part of yourself to me! That's for ruining our beautiful date because you were ashamed of the man I lo;" Honey's uncharacteristic rage was interrupted by Zach's mouth descending on hers and claiming it furiously, pressing her against the wall as her dress fell to the floor. The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began, and Zach pulled away from her, his face a twitching, terrifying storm as he stared down at her. He wrapped his hand around the slender wrist of her only functional arm and pressed it to the wall over her head. "You don't hit me like that; ever," he said quietly, breathing hard through flared nostrils. Honey trembled, staring up into his blazing eyes almost panting against him in terror; but also in something else. The corner of Zach's mouth curled when he saw her deep blue eyes dilate hugely, a heady, familiar scent rising up between them. "You don't fucking hit anyone like that; goddamn amateur. You wanna break your wrist? Jesus Christ. Get your ass dressed and I'll take you home, you little freak," he growled, turning around to give her privacy and hide the huge smile he couldn't stop from covering his face. When Honey came up panting for air, she was pressed against the wall of Zach's loft as he fumbled with the locks of his door with one hand. She was making good progress at getting his shirt off, but it kept bunching up around his arms, and the cuffs were still a problem she didn't even want to think about. Even so, she was blissfully occupied with the acres of warm bare skin and muscle that she had excavated. "This isn't my home; she said, looking around bewildered, "why does everyone get my address wrong?" "Probably because they've blocked it out after seeing your place. Shut up and tell me what you want," Zach said, carrying her over to the stairs until he saw a bit of her lower lip he needed to bite and had to take a break to do it properly. "Look, don't give me names, because then I'd have to kill 'em, but tell me what makes you hot, Honey; we're gonna do all of it and more. I'm making your dreams come true, tonight," he said, winding his hand in her hair as she dropped her head back to give him her neck. "Oh! Um; I liked it when;" "No names," he reminded her, covering her mouth. "Right; well, this one guy, he um; he wore a towel around his waist and bent over his dresser to look for his underwear? And this other time, he held this spoon out to me and I opened my mouth and he fed me. And; and; um; in the shower, he; he held me against him in the water and;" "Honey, are all these stories gonna be about me?" "Um; yeah?" "That's sweet of you, tryin' to keep me outta jail and all, but I need you to get to the part about cock and pussy. Stories about me aren't gonna help that. Cock, pussy, tongue, ass, tits, ears, neck, taint - what do you like?" he asked "Right; uh; I liked it when you washed me down there; my pussy; with your fingers?" Honey said, at a loss. Zach drew his head back from her neck and looked at her, his face growing uneasy. "Honey?" "And when you sprayed the water back and forth down there, especially the top bump part, that really made me feel amazing, kind of squirmy, you know?" "Oh Jesus; he said, looking as if he'd been hit in the head. "And um; I know I wasn't supposed to look, but your um; you know; p-penis; in the shower, when your underwear got wet? That was" "I don't feel so good; he said, lowering himself to the floor and sitting down on the stairs. "No, no, it's fine. We can do this. What's a taint and what do I do with it?" she asked, sitting down and cuddling up next to him. Zach held his head in his hands, "You're a virgin; not like an "everything but" Evangelical, but like an alien or something. I don't know if I can do this." "Look, I know how to have sex; I had health class, for Pete's sake!" she said, slapping his shoulder. "What the fuck did I just get myself into?" he said through his hands. Honey pulled his hands down from his face and climbed up in his lap, putting his arms around her and looping her arms around his neck. "Zach; I have been a very good girl; not just this year, but for a long, long time. I figure that makes it so I can ask for something really big. So, here's what I want: I want you and me; just being together. Not planned or rehearsed or trying to be impressive. You already impress me. You're the best person I know. You took care of me when you hated me. You took care of me, even when I hated you. I just want to see what it's like if we let go of all that and just; you know; love. Will you give me that for Christmas, Santa? Please?" she asked, leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. "I've; never done that before," he said stiffly, looking sideways at her, unable to turn his head. "I'll be gentle with you," she whispered, smiling and brushing her lips against his. Climbing down from his lap, she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs; until he lost patience with her hobbling and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the top. Honey smiled as he gently lowered her feet to the floor, then took his hand and worked on the buttons of his cuff, "You're really big, but you don't do that big guy thing where you act like nothing matters. You notice everything; I like that," she said, glancing up at him. Zach frowned, watching her and then looking around the room, uncomfortable. "That's just; you gotta do that. You can't just throw your weight around without knowing where it's going. You're gonna hurt someone that way," he demurred, unbuttoning the cuff for her and tugging the other loose, as well. "You give a lot, but you're not a show-off about it; you didn't even let me know it wasn't Gatsby's sending food to me," she said, pulling his shirt down off his shoulders, pressing her face into his back to smell him. "You needed protein, calcium, and vitamin D to build those bones again -- that ramen shit you eat wasn't gonna give you enough of anything; just empty carbs and fuckin' sodium," he argued, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at her. Honey smiled and nodded, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling it out of the loops. Zach swallowed, "You; you also needed vitamins C and K, so I made sure you got things like broccoli and fish and citrus; not; not everybody knows that," he said, drawing a shaky breath. "I didn't know that," she said, separating the hook and eye of his trousers and unzipping them, smiling when he cleared his throat and breathed faster as she lowered them. "You're smart, but you don't need everyone to know about it. You watch how people treat you when they think you're simple, instead; you want to know who they really are." Zach pulled his legs out of his trousers and laid them carefully over the chair, glancing over to the closet where he really wanted to put them instead. Honey smirked and turned to go get a hanger for him, and he swept her down onto the bed instead, going to get the hanger for himself and carefully hanging his pants to avoid any creases. Zach returned to the bed, standing in front of her knees where she sat, waiting. Honey moved her hands curiously over his hips and thighs, feeling the strength, the hours of toil and exertion he put them through; so that he could have control and be gentle when he needed to be. "You care about what I want; she said, swallowing and slowly sliding his underwear down his hips, gasping in surprise when his cock bounced out and waved at her. "You care about it even when you think I'm wrong; and it makes me love you so much; she said, trailing off and blushing. "You; got my clothes off," he said, looking down at her, his face a mix of bewilderment and wonder. "I guess you see all of me, now," he said, blushing for the first time since she'd known him. Smiling, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. She winced, reaching back trying to un-do her bra, and instead of helping her as usual, Zach narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. "You do that on purpose, don't you? Doing shit that hurts right in front of me instead of asking me for help. Showing off that fucking bruise to me at the club. Showing me what happens when I can't take care of you; you actually get off on driving me crazy," he said in outraged realization. "You really want to do that rough sex stuff on me, now, don't you," Honey said, her eyes alive with mischief. "Like you wouldn't believe; he said, flipping her over, straddling her back and unclasping her bra. Honey squealed and giggled when he laid himself out over her back, careful to avoid her shoulder and ankle. "You feel that cock, all hard and ready on your panties and between your legs down there? You don't get him now, brat," he growled, pushing her hair aside and biting the back of her neck. "Not until you beg me." "Okay! Please?" she asked, giggling. Zach looked over at her, trying to hold a stern face, "Yeah, that's not how this works. The way this works is, I make you want it so much that you think you're going out of your mind, and *then* you beg me." "Okay!" she chirped. "Oh, fucking hell; he grumbled, trying not to laugh. He nipped all over her back, enjoying her squeaks and gasps, wiggling under him as her need grew. She seemed completely unaware of how she was responding to him, but he proudly basked in her every flutter. He kissed down to the small of her back, hearing her breath stop and then resume at a pant when he began to lower her panties. "Zach; Zach; Honey whimpered. "Yes, Honey?" he smiled, kissing the top of the crease of her bottom, flicking it slightly with his tongue. "Does it; does it always go this slow?" she asked, raising her bottom to him and moaning when he slid his fingers through her crack, making her jump and then grab onto his thigh. "Are you in a hurry?" he murmured, stroking his fingers leisurely around her clit and into her vagina, "Some other pressing; engagement?" he asked, pressing his finger against her hymen and laughing evilly at her shocked, yet needful, reaction. "Yeah; it would feel good to have a hot deep cock in there, wouldn't it?" he asked, thrusting gently into her with his finger. "Zach; Honey moaned, squirming under him. "I like that word 'engagement; '" Zach mused idly, "don't you?" he asked, raising one of her knees up to her side, sliding his cock along her crack, wetting it until it glistened in her juices. "Zach, please; please; please; she gasped, feeling him rise up over her again, pressing against her entry, "I need you; she whispered. "I need you, too, Honey. I've needed you for so long; he answered, parting her lips and moving into her with slow, gentle thrusts. Honey trembled under him, holding her breath, feeling him fill her more and more, until with a slight sharp pain, she took him into her. "Oh; oh; oh; oh; she whimpered. "Just breathe, Honey. You're doing great; perfect. I'm not moving till you're ready," Zach said, reaching deep for control. A sheen of sweat broke over him at the sheer effort of holding himself back from plunging furiously into her body again and again and again. "Is; is this the rough sex part?" she breathed, reaching out to touch the hand he was using to keep most of his weight off her. Zach barked out a breathless laugh, clasping her hand in his, "I don't know about you, but this is about as rough as I can take it, tonight. You're fucking killing me, right now. But, being inside you; it's like magic." Honey moved her head and kissed his forearm, "Be inside me again, Zach; she whispered. With a low sigh, he began moving inside her, his hips pressing and rolling against her, his cock stroking a patient rhythm. She sighed with happiness, feeling him explore and claim her at the same time. His lips moved over her neck and back as he leisurely took her, whispering praise and encouragements, waiting for her to adjust to him. Before long, though, his words stopped, his body growing harder around her, his every muscle stiffening as he gripped her hand harder, his thrusts quickening until, with a soft, surprised grunt, he thrust deep and shook as he emptied himself inside her. With explosive breaths, he rolled off her, pulling her against him in the bed. "Well, fuck; he said in disgust between gasps. "Yeah; Honey said, snuggling back against him happily, "that was perfect; Zach snorted, "No it wasn't, you noob. You didn't come. I fucked it up." "What do you mean? What makes you think I didn't come? That felt great! Let's do that all the time," Honey said, turning in his arms so she could smile at him. "I would've felt it if you came, Honey; it gets tight and squeezes you, almost like it's sucking on you; drinking you down; he said, smiling down at her with rueful affection. "Well, I don't know how it's supposed to get any tighter than that was. I think you're expecting too much of me. Maybe I did come; she argued. "Honey, trust me; when I make you come, you'll know about it," he said, reaching down and caressing her clit with his fingers. "Oh, that's nice; you did that in the shower," Honey cooed, moving her boot up over his hips so he could reach her more easily. "I didn't fucking do this to you in the shower. I fucking washed you. I was a fucking gentleman. People cut diamonds with less fucking focus than I had in that fucking shower. I was just taking care of business, then," he grumbled, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. "I guess; I guess, I took advantage of you, then; s-sorry; oh; she said, raising her hips to him as her breathing became irregular, her head tossing from side to side. "Well, unless I'm wrong, you are about to really pay for it in 3, 2, 1" Zach said, when Honey screamed high and long, her hips bucking as she came hard, covering his hand in her sweet nectar and then bursting into tears. Zach held her close as Honey wailed in pain, stroking her body gently, "Yeah; see, that boot can do a lot, but it can't do squat about it when every muscle in your body wants to stiffen up as you come," he said, still soothing her. Honey slapped his shoulder, "That; that was mean! Don't you ever make me come again!" she panted against him, her face still twisted in slowly receding pain. "Uh huh; Zach said, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "we'll see how long that lasts, you little freak," he said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss her tears away.  To be continued in part 3, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Am 21.12.1940 stirbt F. Scott Fitzgerald, im Alter von 44 Jahren. Erst posthum erlangt er Weltruhm mit seinem Roman "The Great Gatsby" - ein Klassiker des "Jazz Age". Von Andrea Klasen.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Gugs Mhlungu speaks to Joanna Pawelczyk, director of The Cirk, about their innovative Gatsby production for the festive season and what audiences can look forward to in this immersive theatrical experience. 702 Weekend Breakfast with Gugs Mhlungu is broadcast on 702, a Johannesburg based talk radio station, on Saturdays and Sundays Gugs Mhlungu gets you ready for the weekend each Saturday and Sunday morning on 702. She is your weekend wake-up companion, with all you need to know for your weekend. The topics Gugs covers range from lifestyle, family, health, and fitness to books, motoring, cooking, culture, and what is happening on the weekend in 702land. Thank you for listening to a podcast from 702 Weekend Breakfast with Gugs Mhlungu. Listen live on Primedia+ on Saturdays and Sundays from 06:00 and 10:00 (SA Time) to Weekend Breakfast with Gugs Mhlungu broadcast on 702 https://buff.ly/gk3y0Kj For more from the show go to https://buff.ly/u3Sf7Zy or find all the catch-up podcasts here https://buff.ly/BIXS7AL Subscribe to the 702 daily and weekly newsletters https://buff.ly/v5mfetc Follow us on social media: 702 on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TalkRadio702 702 on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@talkradio702 702 on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/talkradio702/ 702 on X: https://x.com/Radio702 702 on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@radio702See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jack Harrington sits down with Tanner Linsley to talk about the evolution of TanStack and where it's headed next. They explore how early projects like React Query and React Table influenced the headless philosophy behind TanStack Router, why virtualized lists matter at scale, and what makes forms in React so challenging. Tanner breaks down TanStack Start and its client-first approach to SSR, routing, and data loading, and shares his perspective on React Server Components, modern authentication tradeoffs, and composable tooling. The episode wraps with a look at TanStack's roadmap and what it takes to sustainably maintain open source at scale. We want to hear from you! How did you find us? Did you see us on Twitter? In a newsletter? Or maybe we were recommended by a friend? Fill out our listener survey (https://t.co/oKVAEXipxu)! https://t.co/oKVAEXipxu Let us know by sending an email to our producer, Elizabeth, at elizabeth.becz@logrocket.com (mailto:elizabeth.becz@logrocket.com), or tweet at us at PodRocketPod (https://twitter.com/PodRocketpod). Check out our newsletter (https://blog.logrocket.com/the-replay-newsletter/)! https://blog.logrocket.com/the-replay-newsletter/ Follow us. Get free stickers. Follow us on Apple Podcasts, fill out this form (https://podrocket.logrocket.com/get-podrocket-stickers), and we'll send you free PodRocket stickers! What does LogRocket do? LogRocket provides AI-first session replay and analytics that surfaces the UX and technical issues impacting user experiences. Start understanding where your users are struggling by trying it for free at LogRocket.com. Try LogRocket for free today. (https://logrocket.com/signup/?pdr) Chapters 01:00 – What is TanStack? Contributors, projects, and mission 02:05 – React Query vs React Table: TanStack's origins 03:10 – TanStack principles: headless, cross-platform, type safety 03:45 – TanStack Virtual and large list performance 05:00 – Forms, abandoned libraries, and lessons learned 06:00 – Why TanStack avoids building auth 07:30 – Auth complexity, SSO, and enterprise realities 08:45 – Partnerships with WorkOS, Clerk, Netlify, and Cloudflare 09:30 – Introducing TanStack Start 10:20 – Client-first architecture and React Router DNA 11:00 – Pages Router nostalgia and migration paths 12:00 – Loaders, data-only routes, and seamless navigation 13:20 – Why data-only mode is a hidden superpower 14:00 – Built-in SWR-style caching and perceived speed 15:20 – Loader footguns and server function boundaries 16:40 – Isomorphic execution model explained 18:00 – Gradual adoption: router → file routing → Start 19:10 – Learning from Remix, Next.js, and past frameworks 20:30 – Full-stack React before modern meta-frameworks 22:00 – Server functions, HTTP methods, and caching 23:30 – Simpler mental models vs server components 25:00 – Donut holes, cognitive load, and developer experience 26:30 – Staying pragmatic and close to real users 28:00 – When not to use TanStack (Shopify, WordPress, etc.) 29:30 – Marketing sites, CMS pain, and team evolution 31:30 – Scaling realities and backend tradeoffs 33:00 – Static vs dynamic apps and framework fit 35:00 – Astro + TanStack Start hybrid architectures 36:20 – Composability with Hono, tRPC, and Nitro 37:20 – Why TanStack Start is a request handler, not a platform 38:50 – TanStack AI announcement and roadmap 40:00 – TanStack DB explained 41:30 – Start 1.0 status and real-world adoption 42:40 – Devtools, Pacer, and upcoming libraries 43:50 – Sustainability, sponsorships, and supporting maintainers 45:30 – How companies and individuals can support TanStack Special Guest: Tanner Linsley.

Landmark is a ground-breaking research programme aimed at accelerating the search for new treatments by applying cutting edge techniques to gain a new level of insight at cellular level into the changes Parkinson's causes in the brain. Principal investigator Professor Michael Johnson from Imperial College London explains the need across the global research community for the new high quality datasets his team will produce.  The project will use tissue samples from the Parkinson's UK Brain Bank, which was set up 22 years ago as a result of the remarkable foresight of Professor David Dexter, who is now the charity's Director of Research. He explains what it was like to see his vision come to fruition when Landmark was launched.  The three year research programme brings together a Parkinson's UK led consortium of four major pharmaceutical companies - GSK, Novartis, Roche, and UCB, plus Imperial College London, which was made possible with £4m of funding from the Gatsby charitable foundation.  https://profiles.imperial.ac.uk/m.johnson    

This year marks 100 years since F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby was first published. And it turns out that it took a while for the novel to catch on in the United States, where it is now considered a classic. This hour, we revisit the novel and its cultural impact. GUESTS: Rob Kyff: Teacher and author of Gatsby’s Secrets. He also writes a nationally syndicated column on language Maureen Corrigan: Book critic for NPR's Fresh Air, and a Distinguished Professor of the Practice in Literary Criticism at Georgetown University. She is the author of So We Read On: How The Great Gatsby Came To Be and Why It Endures Sara Chase: Actress who created the role of Myrtle Wilson in the Broadway production of The Great Gatsby Join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter. Subscribe to The Noseletter, an email compendium of merriment, secrets, and ancient wisdom brought to you by The Colin McEnroe Show. The Colin McEnroe Show is available as a podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, TuneIn, Listen Notes, or wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribe and never miss an episode. Colin McEnroe and Dylan Reyes contributed to this show, which originally aired on April 17, 2025. Our programming is made possible thanks to listeners like you. Please consider supporting this show and Connecticut Public with a donation today by visiting ctpublic.org/donate.Support the show: http://www.wnpr.org/donateSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

L'ottava puntata della settima stagione di We Believe in Music è stata una vera celebrazione di unione, idee e musica condivisa.Nei nostri studi abbiamo avuto il piacere di ospitare Fraskét e il graditissimo ritorno di Cartesio e Gatsby, questa volta con una speciale canzone natalizia che ha portato atmosfera, sorrisi e vibrazioni positive.Tre artisti diversi ma legati dallo stesso percorso e dalla stessa visione, quella di The MusicX, che continua a dimostrare quanto la collaborazione e il gioco di squadra siano fondamentali per crescere davvero nel panorama emergente.Per noi è stato un momento importante, perché crediamo fortemente che la radio debba essere un luogo di incontro, confronto e contaminazione.Quando artisti e radio si ascoltano, condividono e uniscono le idee, nasce qualcosa di autentico.Ed è proprio questo lo spazio che vogliamo offrire, puntata dopo puntata.Ancora una volta, abbiamo sentito davvero la differenza: #feelthedifference.⸻@webelieveinmusicoff è un programma radiofonico in onda su @radiopuntomusica dedicato e pensato agli artisti emergenti.Il sabato dalle 17 in diretta con @chiccovoice, @skattone e la regia di @angel_white89.Vorresti partecipare al nostro programma, vuoi farti conoscere, far ascoltare la tua musica e condividere quella che ami?We Believe in Music è il contenitore che fa per te!Contattaci in direct sui nostri social, siamo pronti a darti voce!

Queens, a production of Manhattan Theatre Club, runs at New York City Center Stage I through December 7th. For more information, visit www.manhattantheatreclub.com. Follow The Present Stage on Instagram at @thepresentstageThe Present Stage: Conversations with Theater Writers is hosted by Dan Rubins, a theater critic for Theatermania and Slant Magazine. You can also find Dan's reviews on Cast Album Reviews and in The New Yorker's Briefly Noted column.The Present Stage supports the national nonprofit Hear Your Song. If you'd like to learn more about Hear Your Song and how to support empowering youth with serious illnesses to make their voices heard though songwriting, please visit www.hearyoursong.org

🎧 Bienvenidos a CLÁSICOS CON ALTURA, el podcast donde redescubrimos la literatura universal desde una perspectiva contemporánea. Aquí conectamos las inquietudes de la vida moderna con las temáticas atemporales de los grandes clásicos. En el episodio 9 Patricia Fernández analiza EL GRAN GATSBY junto a JAVIER RUESCAS, explorando la obsesión por los sueños imposibles, el vacío existencial y la búsqueda de estatus a través del lujo y las apariencias. Reflexionamos sobre la vigencia de la novela en la era de las redes sociales, compartimos experiencias personales sobre ambición y nostalgia, y debatimos el coste emocional de perseguir ideales inalcanzables. Cerramos invitando a cuestionar nuestros propios sueños y la autenticidad en un mundo dominado por la imagen y el consumo. 📕 Descubre nuestros clásicos ilustrados: https://www.editorialalma.com/libros/el-gran-gatsby 🎙️ Un podcast de Editorial Alma producido por Ekos Media. ▶️ Capítulos: Introducción y presentación del episodio (00:00:00) Contextualización de Fitzgerald y los años 20 (00:01:23) El fracaso inicial de "El gran Gatsby" y su posterior éxito (00:04:04) La película de DiCaprio y el impacto emocional del libro (00:05:48) El vacío existencial y la depresión en Gatsby (00:07:19) El lujo como estatus y la cultura de la apariencia (00:09:33) El fenómeno de los Labubu y la nostalgia consumista (00:10:32) Redes sociales, tristeza y la imagen pública (00:12:47) Consecuencias de los actos y la onda expansiva en Gatsby (00:14:00) La disociación y la falta de autoconocimiento (00:15:11) El origen humilde de Gatsby y su obsesión por el reconocimiento (00:16:08) El personaje de Nick: narrador y espectador pasivo (00:17:46) El reflejo de nuestras miserias en "El gran Gatsby" (00:19:56) El ruido, el consumo y la dificultad de la introspección (00:20:55) El consumismo en la literatura y la obsesión por la cantidad (00:22:44) La superficialidad de las recomendaciones literarias en redes (00:24:58) Paralelismos entre los años 20 y la actualidad (00:27:51) La importancia de los círculos íntimos y el valor real (00:28:48) El coste personal de perseguir sueños y el reconocimiento (00:30:47) El precio de la exposición en redes sociales (00:31:43) El personaje de George y la debacle final (00:33:57) La metáfora del rayo verde y la insatisfacción perpetua (00:36:38) La novela de Javier Ruescas y el olvido como mecanismo de defensa (00:38:03) El personaje de Daisy y la protección social (00:40:50) Cierre terapéutico y símbolo de la nostalgia consumista (00:41:39)- Conclusiones y despedida (00:42:19) 🎬 CRÉDITOS Idea original, contenido y coordinación de Laura Jaramillo, Pol Salvador y Mireia Martín. Presentado por Patricia Fernández. Dirigido por Francis Arrabal. Producido por Miguel Pastor. Edición y Diseño gráfico de Antonio Poveda. Postproducción de sonido de Maria Santonja. Estilismo de Sonia Escribano. Proyecto beneficiario de las ayudas para la promoción del sector del videojuego, del podcast y otras formas de creación digital, en el marco del Plan de Recuperación, Transformación y Resiliencia financiado por la Unión Europea - Next Generation EU.

Joel Montague is playing Buddy in Elf The Musical.Elf has returned to the West End for a Christmas run at the Aldwych Theatre. Joel is playing Buddy opposite his wife, Carrie Hope Fletcher, who is playing Jovie.Joel recently finished playing George Wilson in The Great Gatsby (London Coliseum) and earlier this year completed his reign as London's longest-serving King George III in Hamilton (Victoria Palace Theatre).His other theatre credits include: Harvey Goldsmith in Just For One Day (Old Vic), Amos Hart in Chicago (UK Tour), Ogie in Waitress (Adelphi Theatre), Mendel in Falsettos (The Other Palace), Nicely-Nicely Johnson in Guys and Dolls (Théâtre Marigny, Paris), Kiss Me Kate (Sheffield Crucible), Kevin in Fat Friends (UK Tour), alternate Dewey Finn in School of Rock (New London Theatre), Eddie in Funny Girl (Savoy Theatre/Menier Chocolate Factory), The Producers (UK Tour), Urinetown (Apollo Theatre/St James Theatre), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (UK Tour), Sister Act (UK Tour) and Billy Elliot (West End).In this episode, Joel discusses all-things Elf and how he's coping with the demands of playing Buddy. He also talks about the killer cast of Gatsby, what it was like to leave Hamilton after such a long run and he reflects on some of his earlier jobs like Urinetown and Funny Girl. Joel also discusses what it was like to work with Cynthia Erivo when she played Deloris in the Sister Act UK tour. Elf The Musical runs at the Aldwych Theatre until 3rd January 2026. Visit www.elflondon.com for info and tickets. This podcast is hosted by Andrew Tomlins @AndrewTomlins32 Thanks for listening! Email: andrew@westendframe.co.uk Visit westendframe.co.uk for more info about our podcasts. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Today on Mea Culpa, I'm joined by Cenk Uygur, founder and CEO of online news network TYT and host of The Young Turks. One of the most fearless voices in progressive media, Cenk joins me to unpack America's political free fall under Trump. We dig into the weaponization of government power and the absurd contrast between Trump's lavish Gatsby-style parties and the millions left hungry as SNAP funding remains frozen. Cenk breaks down what Democrats must do after Tuesday's wins to sustain momentum, and why it's too soon to write off MAGA voters entirely. From Venezuelan “drug boat” attacks to calls to end the filibuster, we expose how, in politics, you must always follow the money. Thanks to our sponsors: Found: Open your FREE Found account now at https://Found.com Leesa: Go to https://Leesa.com for 25% off mattresses PLUS get an extra $50 off with promo code COHEN IndaCloud: If you're 21 or older, get 40% OFF your first order + free shipping @IndaCloud with code COHEN at https://inda.shop/COHEN! #indacloudpod Subscribe to Michael's Substack: https://therealmichaelcohen.substack.com/ Subscribe to Michael's YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@TheMichaelCohenShow Join us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/PoliticalBeatdown Add the Mea Culpa podcast feed: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/mea-culpa-with-michael-cohen Add the Political Beatdown podcast feed: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/political-beatdown Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Happy Freedom Friday! Jon and Sam kick off the show discussing computer passwords. Jon reacts to the recent Sydney Sweeny interview, filibuster talk, and people comparing Trump to Gatsby.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Happy Freedom Friday! Jon and Sam kick off the show discussing computer passwords. Jon reacts to the recent Sydney Sweeny interview, filibuster talk, and people comparing Trump to Gatsby.

The Great Gatsby celebrates its 100th birthday this year, and you knew that One True Podcast couldn't let 2025 go by without joining the celebration. We mark the centenary of this great American novel by marking its importance in American literary history as well as the life and career of Ernest Hemingway.Fitzgerald scholar William Blazek visits us from his post at Liverpool Hope University to discuss the novel's legacy, its glorious language, and its ambiguous themes; Gatsby as a complex and misunderstood character; how Gatsby would have struck the young Hemingway; and so many other aspects of this magnificent work.Like Nick Carraway just remembering he is turning thirty, One True Podcast hopes it isn't too late to join the roaring celebration of Gatsby at 100!Thanks as always for supporting One True Podcast!

主播：Flora（中国）+ Selah（美国） 音乐：Comfortable最近在国内卷起了一股“老钱风”。我们今天就来聊一聊，到底什么是“老钱风”呢？01. The Popular Old Money Style 受欢迎的老钱风“老钱”的翻译很直白，就是“old money”。那“老钱风”我们可以将它翻译为“old money aesthetic”，也叫“老钱美学”。The old money aesthetic is basically everywhere online. There is even a thing called “老钱风笑声(old money laugh)”. 在Tiktok上就有一些相关视频：一般都是在高尔夫球场上（on the golf course），视频中的人发出old money laugh的同时，会有各种奢侈的场景闪过。主播Selah就曾刷到过一个搞笑的（hilarious）视频：a rich man laughing with his cat on the golf course. “Old money（老钱）”它不仅是一种财富背景，也是一种生活方式和美学。02. What Exactly is Old Money? 什么是老钱风？“Old money”和普通的money还不一样，因为the money is old！这个“老钱”指的是几代人传承下来的传统富裕阶层（families who have had wealth for many generations），通常是通过家族继承、土地、投资等积累财富。It's inherited (继承下的) wealth, which is very different from “new money (新贵)”. “New money”就是指那些靠个人努力或新兴产业（newer industries）致富的人，比如，从事互联网行业、在娱乐圈工作的人，或者是成为体育明星的人。Old money和new money所以虽然都是“money”，但他们在观念、生活方式甚至是穿衣风格上都会有所差别。这几个场景绝对是old money的代表：私人飞机（private jets）、游艇（yachts）、庄园（family estates），还有马球比赛（polo matches）。But what's funny is - they never show off (炫耀)!02. The Old Money Lifestyle “老钱”的生活方式Their wealth is quiet, elegant (优雅的), and subtle (含蓄的). Even their laughter sounds sophisticated (高级的). Old money的精髓就在于虽然他们坐拥财富但从不炫耀，有一种“低调的优雅（quiet elegance）”。There's a phrase: “Money talks. Wealth whispers. (金钱喧闹，财富低语。)” 这是一种“安静的奢华（quiet luxury）”。It perfectly captures the idea of old money. 那为什么quiet luxury现在这么流行呢？因为那些flashy trends大家都看多了，people are tired of them，所以才会格外喜欢old money aesthetic——这种平静（calm）、永恒（timeless）还有点神秘色彩（mysterious）的风格。Flash：闪光灯那么flashy就是指闪光的、炫技的或者是浮华的。“老钱风”穿搭的精髓：风格极简（minimalism）1) 色彩以中性或大地色（neutral or earthy tones）为主2) 线条干净简洁（clean lines）3) 高质量面料（high-quality fabrics）最后这一点特别重要，高质量的面料可能没有那种大logo，但是一眼看上去就让人知道：这绝对不便宜（That outfit was definitely expensive）。This is what people call “quiet luxury (静奢风)”. 其实老钱不光是一种穿搭，it's also about how you carry yourself (展示自己). It's about attitude (态度) — calm, confident, polite.03. Old Money vs. New Money in Movies 经典影视里的“老钱”与“新贵”主播Flora发现在很多经典影片里都能找到Old money的身影。比如：在律政俏佳人（Legally Blonde）里，女主的男友就来自老牌政治世家。但由于当时他觉得和女主不是“门当户对”，于是就和女主提分手了（break up）。电影中男主有一句台词是：“East Coast people are different.”。East Coast（东海岸）就是美国“old money”的地盘（the home turf），像the Kennedys, the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts等，这些都是老牌世家。Meanwhile, the West Coast (西海岸) is the home turf of “new money”. 科技界的亿万富翁（tech billionaires），movie stars，athletes（运动员），基本上都在高科技产业闻名的Silicon Valley（硅谷），还有以电影业出名的Hollywood（好莱坞）这些区域。在另一部电影The Great Gatsby（《了不起的盖茨比》）当中也能看到“old money”和“new money”的对比：1) 电影中的Tom Buchanan - old money 2) 小李子饰演的Gatsby - new money但尽管Gatsby再努力融入（trying to fit in）那个“老钱”的世界，he is still an outsider (局外人)。04. The Composed Aura of Old Money 老钱风的“从容”气场Old money is not only about the money, the cloths, and also the background (背景) and manners (礼仪). “老钱”有自己的一整套生活方式（a whole lifestyle）。它包括健康的皮肤（healthy skin）、自律（discipline），你受过的教育（education）以及quiet confidence。所有这一切blend together（结合在一起）, 才会形成一种自如的优雅（a natural elegance）。Quite confidence：沉着的自信它来自你内心深处，无需要言语、行动来证明。It's about taking care of yourself, being grounded, and never trying too hard. 不刻意、不浮夸，那份“从容”才是old money最吸引人的地方。Everyone can have that vibe (气场)! 你只要穿出自我、获得自洽（stay calm and confident），这本身就是一种“old money气场”。或者，你能在old money之外找到自己的风格，这种从容和自洽也正是old money aesthetic的核心所在。

Barack Obama hits the campaign trail—and discusses Trump's sh*tposting—as voters head to the polls. Donald Trump sits down for a lengthy interview with 60 Minutes—the same program he sued in 2024—to discuss immigration raids, his new fascination with nuclear weapons, and his surprising pardon of a Chinese crypto tycoon. Jon, Lovett, and Tommy discuss the interview's most shocking moments, share their final thoughts on the 2025 elections, and react to the garish Gatsby-themed party the President threw at Mar-a-Largo as SNAP benefits expired for more than 40 million Americans on Halloween night. Then, George Retes, the combat veteran and American citizen who was detained by immigration agents with no explanation while driving to work, stops by the studio and shares his harrowing story.For a closed-captioned version of this episode, click here. For a transcript of this episode, please email transcripts@crooked.com and include the name of the podcast. Get tickets to CROOKED CON November 6-7 in Washington, D.C at http://crookedcon.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

As the president goes Gatsby, his administration says Americans will only get half of their food stamps this month. Plus, after spending months accusing Joe Biden of not knowing who he pardoned, Trump says he knows nothing about his own pardon of the crypto convict who helped make Trump's empire richer again.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

MeidasTouch host Ben Meiselas reports on Donald Trump's disastrous landing back to Washington DC where he threatens a ground invasion of Nigeria and as his approval hits new lows following his Gatsby themed party in Florida on the tax payer dime during a government shutdown. Visit https://meidasplus.com for more! Remember to subscribe to ALL the MeidasTouch Network Podcasts: MeidasTouch: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/meidastouch-podcast Legal AF: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/legal-af MissTrial: https://meidasnews.com/tag/miss-trial The PoliticsGirl Podcast: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/the-politicsgirl-podcast The Influence Continuum: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/the-influence-continuum-with-dr-steven-hassan Mea Culpa with Michael Cohen: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/mea-culpa-with-michael-cohen The Weekend Show: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/the-weekend-show Burn the Boats: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/burn-the-boats Majority 54: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/majority-54 Political Beatdown: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/political-beatdown On Democracy with FP Wellman: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/on-democracy-with-fpwellman Uncovered: https://www.meidastouch.com/tag/maga-uncovered Coalition of the Sane: https://meidasnews.com/tag/coalition-of-the-sane Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this edition of I Left My Trends Back Home…, Jack and Miles discuss their respective weekends, Trump hosting a 'Great Gatsby' party hours before SNAP benefits lapse, Julia Fox's interesting Jackie O costume, Kash Patel thwarting a "Halloween terror spot" and using a gov't jet for date night, Prince Andrew getting kicked out of Windsor Castle and much more!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

SEASON 4 EPISODE 30: COUNTDOWN WITH KEITH OLBERMANN A-Block (2:30) SPECIAL COMMENT: If Andrew can no longer be PRINCE because of Jeffrey Epstein, Trump can no longer be PRESIDENT because of Jeffrey Epstein. I think Trump understands this. I have no doubt Mike Johnson understands this. I believe even large swaths of the otherwise imbecilic MAGA understand this. It is why Trump and Johnson and the others are starving the needy; dissolving Congress; destroying the domestic balance of power and gutting the work infrastructure at airports, government agencies, and services. It is why they are even cutting the legs out from under every Republican candidate in tomorrow’s handful of elections. Andrew has been convicted of nothing; Trump has been convicted of nothing. There are no astounding legal findings against Andrew; there are no astounding legal findings against Trump. There are probably no smoking guns about Andrew in the Epstein files; there are probably no smoking guns about Trump in the Epstein files. The status of their scandals is roughly identical. Just as importantly: the English monarchy wants to publicly atone for Andrew and based on heavy news reporting in the UK it is apparently pressing Andrew to reveal what he knows about Epstein – presumably about TRUMPStein. Meanwhile only Trump, would throw a Gatsby party with himself as Gatsby and scantily-clad women in giant Martini glasses, in the middle of his own sex ring crisis. In any event: If Andrew can no longer be PRINCE because of Jeffrey Epstein. Trump can no longer be PRESIDENT because of Jeffrey Epstein. B-Block (28:00) THE WORST PERSONS IN THE WORLD: After O'Donnell flames him, Scott Jennings insists Lawrence O'Donnell, whose show is beating Jennings's CNN show in the ratings by 60%, is irrelevant. Karolyin Leavitt was appalled that there was a bathroom inside the White House. And before tomorrow's election, Andrew Cuomo has proclaimed himself "Mayor." C-Block (36:00) THINGS I PROMISED NOT TO TELL: Well the World Series ended just as I told you it would: With everybody demanding Fox never again interview a manager during Game 7. I was a Fox TV Baseball Dugout Reporter: Here's Why We Don't Need Them (except for emergencies; in 40 games in which I filled that role, there were maybe three emergencies. I'll recount the best of them - the on-field dispute that came this close to turning into a riot involving the New York Yankees, the Boston Cops, and thousands of drunken Red Sox fans. And it ended with me being ordered to sit, essentially, on George Steinbrenner's lap).See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Good morning Lemon Nation! Today, we're taking a look at Donald Trump's latest 60 Minutes interview with Norah O'Donnell which went exactly how you'd expect. Trump made outlandish claims, and CBS failed to check him on it. As always, Trump's media meltdown was a masterclass in chaos. Then, we'll dive into Trump's latest show of excess, the lavish Gatsby-style Halloween party he attended while millions of Americans are struggling to afford food and pay bills amid the ongoing government shutdown. Because nothing says “man of the people” like champagne fountains during a crisis. This morning, Don breaks down the interview, the hypocrisy, and the spectacle, because Trump might be living in a fantasy, but the rest of America is living in a nightmare. This episode is sponsored by ZBiotics. Go to https://zbiotics.com/LEMON and use LEMON at checkout for 15% off first time orders. This episode is brought to you by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at https://betterhelp.com/donlemon and get on your way to being your best self. This episode is sponsored by Fatty15. Get an additional 15% off their 90-day subscription Starter Kit by going to https://fatty15.com/LEMON and using code LEMON at checkout. This episode is brought to you by Lean. If you want to lose meaningful weight at a healthy pace and keep it off... Add LEAN to your diet and exercise lifestyle. Get 20% OFF WHEN YOU ENTER LEMON at https://TAKELEAN.com For free and unbiased Medicare help, dial 212-931-0855 to speak with my trusted partner, Chapter, or go to https://askchapter.org/don DISCLAIMER: Chapter and its affiliates are not connected with or endorsed by any government entity or the federal Medicare program. Chapter Advisory, LLC represents Medicare Advantage HMO, PPO, and PFFS organizations and stand alone prescription drug plans that have a Medicare contract. Enrollment depends on the plan's contract renewal. While we have a database of every Medicare plan nationwide and can help you to search among all plans, we have contracts with many but not all plans. As a result, we do not offer every plan available in your area. Currently we represent 50 organizations which offer 18,160 products nationwide. We search and recommend all plans, even those we don't directly offer. You can contact a licensed Chapter agent to find out the number of products available in your specific area. Please contact Medicare.gov, 1-800-Medicare, or your local State Health Insurance Program (SHIP) to get information on all of your options. Average potential savings are based on realized premium, co-pay, and out of pocket savings estimates self-reported by consumers that worked with Chapter Advisory LLC to enroll in a Medicare Supplement, Medicare Advantage, and/or Part D Prescription Drug Plan. The average is limited to consumers that chose to self-report. Savings information is subject to periodic updates and corrections. There is no guarantee of savings and any savings may vary by policy type, state, or other factors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On Saturday night at Mar-a-Lago, Donald Trump hosted a lavish “Great Gatsby”-themed gala, complete with 1920s costumes, chandeliers, champagne, and all the trappings of an age that once danced on the brink of collapse. At nearly the same time, across America, millions of families were warned that their SNAP benefits — food-stamp funds that keep groceries on the table — would be suspended as of November 1st due to the ongoing shutdown crisis. The contrast could not be more symbolic: one world dripping with gold and luxury, the other counting cans and wondering what tomorrow brings.“For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” 1 Timothy 6:10 (KJB)On this episode of the Prophecy News Podcast, this isn't simply bad optics; it's a parable for our times. When the rich feast as the poor fast, judgment is never far behind. Jay Gatsby's mansion once stood as the monument to the American Dream — brilliant, extravagant, and hollow. He built his empire chasing an illusion. Trump's Mar-a-Lago soirée mirrors that same spirit of performance over purpose, a spectacle where the glitter hides the emptiness beneath. Prophetically, this moment fits the portrait of Laodicea, the final church age described in Revelation. Wealth abounds, yet faith declines. Prosperity for some flourishes, yet compassion for all evaporates. The Church — and the culture — proclaims its greatness, while blind to its spiritual poverty. This is not a call to envy the rich or to glorify poverty — it's a call to repentance. Every true Christian should take this moment as a reminder of what the Lord values: mercy over money, righteousness over revelry, truth over theatrics. “Righteousness exalteth a nation: but sin is a reproach to any people.” Proverbs 14:34 (KJB)

El término "sueño americano" nace durante una de las peores crisis de Estados Unidos, la Gran Depresión de los años treinta. Sin embargo, la idea ya inspiraba a los pioneros del siglo XVII llegados de Europa que buscaban en el nuevo continente terreno virgen donde construir su propia utopía. El fin de la Gran Guerra elevará al todavía joven país al liderazgo económico, social y cultural, mientras el sueño americano baila en los años veinte a ritmo del jazz y del dinero fácil. En ese contexto surge la figura de un joven escritor llamado Francis Scott Fitzgerald, autor de 'El gran Gatsby' (1925), referencia imprescindible de la narrativa estadounidense. La novela es la parábola perfecta de aquellos años locos en los que se multiplican coches y rascacielos, pero también la herida por la que supuran los traumas de Fitzgerald: alcoholismo, complejo de inferioridad, derroche económico, problemas de pareja, etc. Su caída es la metáfora del hundimiento de un país que se creía invulnerable bajo el espejismo hedonista. Este documental, con guion de Alfredo Laín y diseño sonoro de Miguel Ángel Coleto, cuenta con la participación de Carmen de la Guardia, catedrática de Historia Contemporánea de la Universidad Autónoma de Madrid y autora de 'La construcción del sueño americano (Estados Unidos 1929-2018)'; Rodrigo Fresán, escritor y autor de 'El pequeño Gatsby'; Juan Ignacio Guijarro, profesor de literatura inglesa y norteamericana en la Universidad de Sevilla y prologuista de diversas ediciones de obras de F. S. Fitzgerald; y Carlos Galilea, periodista musical y director del programa 'Jazz es finde' en Radio 3.Escuchar audio

W tym odcinku „Raportu o książkach” zapraszam na drugą odsłonę dyptyku amerykańskiego – opowieść o Wielkim Gatsbym, a właściwie powinnam powiedzieć „Tym Wielkim Gatsbym”, bo taki właśnie tytuł nosi nowy przekład najsłynniejszego dzieła Francisa Scotta Fitzgeralda.Wielki Gatsby to jedna z najbardziej obecnych w popkulturze postaci literackich. Ale czy ta ogromna popularność bohatera Fitzgeralda przyczyniła się do powszechnego rozumienia tej wielowymiarowej, zagadkowej powieści? Powieści, która – mimo że objętościowo skromna – swoim rozmachem literackim prowokuje ciągle nowe odczytania.Żadna z postaci „Tego Wielkiego Gatsby'ego” nie daje się łatwo rozszyfrować. Zagadkowy narrator prowadzi czytelnika na granice świata rzeczywistości i nierzeczywistości.To powieść o Ameryce lat 20. ubiegłego wieku, o wielkich marzeniach i wielkich aspiracjach. O świecie, w którym rządzą pieniądze, ale nie każdy pieniądz jest przepustką do amerykańskiego snu. Bo wbrew deklaracjom Ojców Założycieli w Ameryce wolność i równość darowane są tylko wybrańcom.A może „Ten Wielki Gatsby” nie jest powieścią tylko o Ameryce? Być może najważniejsze proroctwo Fitzgeralda dotyczy piekła, które miało rozpętać się w Europie w trzeciej i czwartej dekadzie XX wieku?Gatsby opowiada też ponadczasową historię o pragnieniu miłości i próbie odzyskania przeszłości, a także o wielkiej samotności.Fitzgerald to postać złożona i bardzo niejednoznaczna. Pytanie: czy tropy biograficzne powinny komplikować odczytanie jego literackiego dzieła?Prowadzenie: Agata KasprolewiczGość: Maciej ŚwierkockiKsiążka: „Ten Wielki Gatsby” F. Scott Fitzgerald / przekład: Maciej Świerkocki / Wydawnictwo Officyna---------------------------------------------Raport o stanie świata to audycja, która istnieje dzięki naszym Patronom, dołącz się do zbiórki ➡️ ⁠https://patronite.pl/DariuszRosiak⁠Subskrybuj newsletter Raportu o stanie świata ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠➡️ ⁠https://dariuszrosiak.substack.com⁠Koszulki i kubki Raportu ➡️ ⁠https://patronite-sklep.pl/kolekcja/raport-o-stanie-swiata/⁠ [Autopromocja]

This time Mike takes us back to one of his favourite memories: The Gatsby Party. Think glitz, glam, and a night full of surprises that didn't exactly end the way we imagined. Between the energy of the party and the unexpected twists, it's one that definitely left its mark on us. We also share how Chloe faced down some of her fears that night and what we both took away from the experience. It was fun, it was intense, and it reminded us why some parties stand out more than others. Slip into your best Gatsby vibe and join us as we relive this unforgettable evening. Make sure to follow us on our social media: Instagram: @DiaryofaSwingingCouplePodcast X: @DiaryofaSC Don't forget to check out: www.tabotaevents.com www.tangledbodies.com

This is a reupload of the Internet Kids podcast in honor of the life of Ben Bader. Ben was one of my best friends and he was such a light in this world. Ben tragically passed away on October 23, 2025. This podcast was started by Ben and Harry to share the stories of our friends as we all built online businesses. Ben was a phenomenal writer, marketer, and friend. He lived by a simple philosophy: work hard to build your dream life and have fun with people you love. Ben believed that anyone could achieve their dreams and he did just that. If you want to read Ben's email go here: https://benbaderemails.com/If you want to read his Tweets go here: https://x.com/benhbader

Episode 306. What real pieces of media are so strange and obscure that when you try to describe them, it sounds like an internet urban legend that you've just made up? We bring you endless circles, a scarecrow vigilante, little mouth guys, a robot in a mountain, and offbrand edutainment CD-Roms. We also read the notes written in Kyle's old high school copy of The Great Gatsby, learn about St. Louis wedding pastas, discover the pops, and argue about the proper division of items in fundraiser raffle baskets.Click here to watch a video of this episode. (00:00) - Intro (00:04) - Real media that sounds like a creepypasta (00:30) - Circles (12:04) - The Scarecrow (21:38) - Mr. Boogedy and The Langoliers (26:29) - Gatsby is lonely (41:29) - The top secret CD (46:10) - Mort the Chicken (51:35) - Turn A. G Saviour. (01:01:55) - Cinema corner (01:10:41) - Dark Melissa returns (01:30:04) - Outro Reply on Bluesky ★ Support this podcast on Patreon ★

On this episode of The daily. I am doing book recommendations, writing tips, and also update, author news, and upcoming author. Interviews.Be sure to check out the books by Local author Camille, Hardwood, and her book Carolina girls, Sunset Beach. This is book one.Also, check out the books or classic books by award winning authors, F, Scott Fitzgerald, The Great, Gatsby, and also Gregory McGuire, and his book, wicked the life and times of the wicked, witch of the west. I also read chapters 21-25 from award winning author E. Lockhart and her novel. We were liars.Then I went ahead and went into writing tips with award winning author, Walter Mosley, and his book this year. You write your novel. I read about poetry and how important it is when writing. Even even if you're not good at it, and I also covered your first draft. I also gave an update on my books closure, the diary of a broken Father, and chasing clarity, and I also gave an excerpt into my new book, battered mind which will be out next year. I'll copyright by me. Sylvia Stein.All Music provided by pixabay.comRoyalty, Free Music Don't forget, I will be at the Barnes and Noble in Cary , North Carolina on October 25, 2025, from 2 to 4 at the kildare location. I forgot to mention this on my podcast: my newsletter will be out next week for October, and then I have some other news. Stay tuned.

Hello friends and welcome to The Five By! Your quatriweekly source of rapid-fire board game reviews. 00:00 Jose - Introduction 00:39 Justin - Metal Gear Solid: The Board Game (https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/266529/metal-gear-solid-the-board-game) 05:57 Amanda - Sanctuary (https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/441696/sanctuary) 10:44 Sarah - Twinkle Twinkle (https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/408280/twinkle-twinkle) 15:56 Jose - SILOS (https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/429765/silos) 21:04 John - Gatsby (https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/433908/gatsby) 26:38 Justin - Outro

The Gatsby Made In Chicago full 95 Tue, 23 Sep 2025 23:24:08 +0000 y3tL78vW1sTLWaBkD4DJ4gEfPFqut03I news Chicago All Local news The Gatsby Made In Chicago A dive into the top headlines in Chicago, delivering the news you need in 10 minutes or less multiple times a day from WBBM Newsradio. 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. News False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-link=https%3A%2F%2Frss

The Gatsby Made In Chicago full 95 Tue, 23 Sep 2025 23:24:08 +0000 y3tL78vW1sTLWaBkD4DJ4gEfPFqut03I news Chicago All Local news The Gatsby Made In Chicago A dive into the top headlines in Chicago, delivering the news you need in 10 minutes or less multiple times a day from WBBM Newsradio. 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. News False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-link=https%3A%2F%2Frss

Our Patrons voted and they wanted Ramsey to make a million jokes about F. Scott Fitzgerald, and so this week we listen to Gatsby's American Dream! Discover bonus eps, merch and more on our Patreon! This week: Gatsby jokes! Bastille's "Pompeii!" Literary references! Get Smart references! All this and so much MORE! Wanna get a shout-out on a future episode? Give us a rating on iTunes! It helps us, and it helps you feel good about yourself!

If you teach American literature, chances are you're touching on the theme of the American Dream somehow, through book clubs, a poetry unit, a look at Gatsby, or an essential question that binds together a variety of genres and perspectives. So when I received this request for our Plan my Lesson series, "How about a fun way to introduce the American Dream unit for juniors, about 36 of them," I was ready. In today's episode, we're going to talk about how you might introduce the concept of The American Dream through a series of multimedia activities, first letting students choose which ones to explore, then letting them respond with multimedia of their own, creating a collage of dream experiences for the class to view. American Dream Text Possibilities (Starter List): Death of a Salesman Trailer (Royal Shakespeare Company) American Gothic Painting (Painting at The Art Institute of Chicago) Reyna Grande: A Migrant's Story (Video on Youtube) The Sun is Also a Star (Movie Trailer) "American Dream" (Video from the Beltway Poetry Slam on Youtube) "Let America be America Again" (Poem by Langston Hughes at Poets.org) "Immigrant Photos by Augustus Sherman" (Photos from Ellis Island at the National Park Service) "An American Sunrise" (Poem by Joy Harjo at Poets.org) "American Dreamers Mural" (Mural by Shepard Fairey and Vils, Photo at Obey Giant) - you'd want to pull the photo out of the blog post "Lincoln, Nebraska 1977" (Photo by Keith Jacobshagen at the Spencer Museum of Art) American Dream Exhibit (Punto Urban Art Museum) "Gold Mountain Dreams" (PBS: Bill Moyer's Becoming American: The Chinese Experience") "This Hill we Climb" (Amanda Gorman on PBS Youtube) "I hear America Singing" (Poem by Walt Whitman at The Poetry Foundation) Start-up Story: "Jerry Yang" (The Immigrant Learning Center) Multimedia collage response example (one illustration, one quotation, and an interpretive 6 word memoir):  Go Further:  Explore alllll the Episodes of The Spark Creativity Teacher Podcast. Launch your choice reading program with all my favorite tools and recs, and grab the free toolkit. Join our community, Creative High School English, on Facebook. Come hang out on Instagram.  Enjoying the podcast? Please consider sharing it with a friend, snagging a screenshot to share on the ‘gram, or tapping those ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ to help others discover the show. Thank you!   

Jeff and Rebecca introduce their new podcast, Zero to Well-Read, with its inaugural episode about The Great Gatsby. We dig into what makes Gatsby a classic, why it's all over high school reading lists, and the ways it still echoes in our culture. This season of Zero to Well-Read is presented by Thriftbooks. Subscribe to The Book Riot Newsletter for regular updates to help you get the most out of your reading life. Email us: zerotowellread@bookriot.com The Book Riot Podcast is a proud member of the Airwave Podcast Network. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

McCartan sets ‘Gatsby’ departure date, Doyle to direct London ‘Secret Garden,’ ‘John Proctor’ closing night scream Since 2016, “Today on Broadway” has been the first and only daily podcast recapping the top theatre headlines every Monday through Friday. Any and all feedback is appreciated:Grace Aki: grace@broadwayradio.com | @ItsGraceAkiMatt Tamanini: matt@broadwayradio.com | @BroadwayRadio Patreon: BroadwayRadiohttps://www.patreon.com/broadwayradio read more

Welcome to Eldritch Extras in which we discuss Gatsby and the Great Race, AND Alien Earth! Also, Mike plays some silent sound effects. Ground breaking stuff I'm sure you'll agree! Get full access to Mason and Fricker's Eldritch Stories at www.eldritchstories.com/subscribe

On the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of the publication of her hit debut novel THE MERCY OF THIN AIR, Ronlyn Domingue talks to Greg Olear about the story's timeless themes of love and loss, the significance of New Orleans as a backdrop, her unusual creative process, the Trump Administration and SCOTUS's retrograde position on reproductive rights, the importance of the novel in modern society, nature as an antidote to doomscrolling, the impact of technology on human connection, and more. Plus: a song from the war zone in DC.Ronlyn Domingue's critically acclaimed debut novel THE MERCY OF THIN AIR was published in ten languages. It was a fiction finalist for the 2005 Borders Original Voices Award and 2006 SIBA Book Award, a long list nominee for the 2005 James Tiptree, Jr. Award (now known as the Otherwise Award), and a 2010 Costco Pennie's Pick. Her “Keeper of Tales” Trilogy, which can be read in any order, includes The Mapmaker's War, The Chronicle of Secret Riven, and The Plague Diaries. Her essays and short stories have appeared in New England Review, Clackamas Literary Review, and Lion's Roar (formerly Shambhala Sun) as well as on mindful.org, The Nervous Breakdown, and Salon.com. She holds a MFA degree in creative writing from Louisiana State University, has taught composition and fiction writing at the college level, and served as a fiction editor and co-editor in chief of New Delta Review. Born and raised in the Deep South, she lives in the woods somewhere in Louisiana.Follow Ronlyn:https://bsky.app/profile/ronlyndomingue.bsky.socialBuy THE MERCY OF THIN AIR:https://www.ronlyndomingue.com/motaRead CRONE ENERGY, her Substack:https://ronlyndomingue.substack.com/Read her essay on GATSBY in the Four Sticks Press edition:https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-great-gatsby-four-sticks-press-centennial-edition/e701221776c88f86?ean=9798985931976&next=tSubscribe to the PREVAIL newsletter:https://gregolear.substack.com/about Make America Great Gatsby Again!https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-great-gatsby-four-sticks-press-centennial-edition/e701221776c88f86?ean=9798985931976&next=tSubscribe to The Five 8:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0BRnRwe7yDZXIaF-QZfvhACheck out ROUGH BEAST, Greg's new book:https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D47CMX17ROUGH BEAST is now available as an audiobook:https://www.audible.com/pd/Rough-Beast-Audiobook/B0D8K41S3T

TEXT US YOUR THOUGHTS!In this episode, Tony Recaps his trip to the GenCon gaming convention in Indianapolis and talks about the boardgames he brought back. Plus, Jaime dominates a birthday party full of nine year olds.Support the show https://discord.gg/3yfGt9gahB

She's had a love-hate relationship with F. Scott Fitzgerald since she was a teenager. And she's now written a wonderful new take on The Great Gatsby, reimagining the story with a cast of the Black elite in post-war Los Angeles.

This week, we're sharing an episode of a show we think you'll enjoy: “Worth It” from the Minnesota Star Tribune and Lemonada Media.We've got the inside scoop on why the Guthrie's “Cabaret” is getting rave reviews. Also, as “The Great Gatsby” turns 100, why is this novel with Minnesota roots worth another read? Plus, we'll tell you about the Culinary North Stars that are pushing the boundaries of the Twin Cities' dining scene.Read more about the Culinary North Stars, Gatsby's centennial, Gatsby remixes and the Guthrie's production of “Cabaret”.This week our guests are taste editor Nicole Hvidsten, general assignment reporter Zoë Jackson, interim books editor Chris Hewitt, theater critic Rohan Preston and digital food and culture producer Abby Sliva.To support “Worth It” and the important work of the Minnesota Star Tribune, subscribe today by visiting Startribune.com/WorthItToSubscribe.Stay up to date with the Minnesota Star Tribune at @startribune on TikTok, Bluesky, X, Facebook, and Instagram. Lemonada Media is on X, Facebook and Instagram at @LemonadaMedia.

On today's episode of Turtle Time - "The Most Evil Person Shannon Has Ever Met" - we discuss more news than you could ever imagine. We talk about the latest revelations from Scheana Shay's memoir, My Good Side, Lisa Vanderpump's tribute to Ozzy Osbourne, and Michelle and Aaron from The Valley breaking up. (26:35)We then discuss this week's episode of Real Housewives of Orange County (season 19, episode 3) - "A Birthday for Dubrow". (26:35)And finally, we briefly discuss the latest episode Real Housewives of Miami (season 7, episode 7) - "The Julia Texts". (1:15:55)If you enjoyed this episode and need more Turtle Time in your life, join the ⁠Turtle Time Patreon⁠ and become a Villa Rosa VIP to hear exclusive bonus content! We're recapping the Vanderpump Rules series from the beginning each week and uncovering all of its secrets.And if you need even more Turtle Time in your life, follow us on ⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠. And please, if you want to watch some of the fun things we do, subscribe on YouTube.Turtle Time Takeaways (Powered by Riverside AI)Wolf Blitzer's envy of Bravo news coverage is humorous.The split between Michelle and Aaron is shocking and significant.Reality TV relationships often have unexpected fallout.Lisa Vanderpump's candidness with paparazzi reveals her priorities.Sheena's memoir offers surprising insights into her life.The iCloud has complicated personal relationships for many.Sheena's past experiences with lawsuits are eye-opening.The dynamics of friendship in reality TV can be complex.The Real Housewives of Orange County episode had unexpected drama.Taglines in reality shows can reflect deeper truths about the cast. January birthdays spark lively discussions among listeners.Recording conversations is a major breach of trust in the housewives' world.Katie's strategic mistakes lead to her downfall.Jen's emotional outburst reveals her struggles with bullying.Tamra's villainous reputation continues to polarize fans.Bowling night showcases relationship dynamics among cast members.Dawson's decision to join the Marines raises questions about financial realities.The Gatsby-themed party sets a new standard for extravagance.The narcissist party highlights Todd's controversial influence.Miami's recent episodes reveal a need for fresh storylines. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello, old sports! Join us and our young and beautiful guests, Janet Dale and Allison Renner, as we revisit Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby (2013). Then we chat with Janet and Allison about their new collaborative chapbook, Green Light: A Gatsby Cycle. Read along for our next Bookpisode about Vanishing World by Sayaka Murata on August 5th. Then watch The Thing for our next Othersode with Paul Tremblay, author of the new novel Another, on August 19th.TOC:30 – Hello everyone! Welcome, Janet and Allison! 17:00 – How does this movie hold up?32:00 – Casting44:15 – The music48:45 – Why do people still love Gatsby?57:12– Interview with Janet and Allison!1:38:39 – What's up next?

For this "Summer Best-Of" we've put together some of our favorite conversations our centennial series, 100 Years of 100 Things:Ashley Stimpson, Maryland-based freelance journalist who writes about science and conservation, takes us through the past 100 years of kids going to the woods for summer camp.Victoria Rosner, dean of the Gallatin School at NYU and the author of Machines for Living: Modernism and Domestic Life (Oxford University Press, 2020), talks about the post-World War I development of modernism (and post-modernism) across the arts and beyond.Maureen Corrigan, the book critic for Fresh Air, Georgetown professor and the author of So We Read On: How The Great Gatsby Came to Be and Why It Endures (Hachette, 2014), looks at the 1925 publication of the novel, The Great Gatsby, and why it continues to resonate with readers one hundred years later.Polo shirts, khaki shorts, and boat shoes: the classic uniform of elites on their days off.  Avery Trufelman, host of the podcast Articles of Interest, delves into the last 100 years of preppies and their clothes. These interviews were polished up and edited for time, the original versions are available here:100 Years of 100 Things: Summer Camps (Aug 26, 2025)100 Years of 100 Things: Modernism (Jan 8, 2025)100 Years of 100 Things: The Great Gatsby (Jan 13, 2025)100 Years of 100 Things: Preppies and Their Clothes (Mar 26, 2025)