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A Butterfly wants to kill the World?Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Although Love is both fire and shadow, we often forget to take comfort from the coolness of the memories when the burning flames are absentThere were precisely two things, okay, four things, keeping me alive. The fourth thing would come to her later when her 'furious was replaced by her 'curious' ~ as in how I knew her inhuman lingo ~ which would lead to my legacy with Grandpa.The top three reasons -She had poked my chest. It was a challenge, calling for one of my guardians to come out and play. The avatar knew I was the chosen heir of the Goddess Ishara and my goddess had devoted a good deal of time and effort to my survival and continued service in her cause. If Ishara made an 'appearance', it would be enough reason to not eviscerate me for my foul treatment of her august personage.Nope. It seemed Ishara was busy at the moment.Still, she most likely knew SzelAnya had shown a keen interest in me in Romania, though I'd never told Selena, or any other member of the 9 Clans, the Dragon's Daughter had killed Ajax for me. Figuring out SzelAnya, a storm deity, had helped me and Aya escape from our kidnapping in the midst of a cyclone in the Pacific Ocean wasn't much of a reach.But no bolt of lightning coalesced from my chest to singe her finger. No clap of thunder. Not even a cloud with a hint of disfavor appeared above us.Her obsidian fingernail began penetrating my shirt, touched my skin, then drew my blood, and something 'twitched'.That would be Contestant Goddess #3. She wasn't actually hanging around me. She didn't have to. She'd left me a memento of our last shindig before we parted ways. That was the nightmare-inducing episode where she, the chthonic goddess Sarrat Irkalli, had compressed one man's body into a dagger and then proceeded to suck another's soul into it to use as a power source for an Airbus 350 (a commercial airliner, if you didn't know).I still had that snaggletooth-looking thing at my back. Well who the Hell was I going to leave it with? Honestly, the only people I felt could keep it safe I loved too much to curse with it. Anyway, the second her divine claw touched my blood, the long dormant weapon whispered to me in a somewhat bored, lofty feminine voice from beyond the grave,Do you want me to discorporate this pathetic has-been for you?Quick check. Only the avatar and I, and her priestess-savant heard that. Of course, in downtown, New York City, noon Sunday, how weird would such a declaration be? The avatar's eyebrow arched. Her big bat-ears (still looking human to the normal viewing public) flicked this way and that, figuring out precisely where the threat originated from. Slowly, her once poking hand began to slide across my chest, along my ribs and around my back.She touched the dagger. Nothing.Gingerly, she drew it forth. I'd had a makeshift sheath made. As the blade made its journey around me, she took a half-step back to better observe it."Please don't kill him!" Theddy squealed. "We haven't had sex yet!"Being 'who' and 'what' she was, the avatar did what came natural. Fortunately for Theddy, I'd become accustomed to working with psychopaths.She stabbed the dagger at Theddy. I clamped my hand down on her wrist. The claws of her left hand came down on my constraining wrist. My free hand came down on that hand, trying to pry it free. It was a hopeless struggle, except.Yes, my old friend 'except'. Except the avatar was holding the dagger. As powerful as Ītzpāpālōtl was, she wasn't pushing against me. She was pushing against Sarrat Irkalli.Ītzpāpālōtl was a living, breathing terror machine who killed and received sacrifices on a regular basis.Sarrat Irkalli hadn't been actively worshipped in 3,000 years.Uneven contest? Oh yeah.See, Ītzpāpālōtl had spent the past 500 years continuously fighting against the Weave to keep her fingers on this side of reality.Meanwhile, for the most part, Sarrat Irkalli had sat upon her throne in the Sumerian Underworld with hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of souls toiling under her watchful gaze for eternity. Sure, her version of Hell wasn't getting any fresh deposits, but she knew how to milk the system well.Even the bad karma for the dagger's creation wasn't hers. She'd stolen it from the foolish Gong Tau sorcerers who had meant to enslave my soul, aka one-third of the Baraqu-Alal-Cáel deal she'd worked out millennia ago. It was the Weave giving her a 'freebie' for playing by the rules, if you considered the Weave sentient.And now Ītzpāpālōtl was touching it. Whoops. It wasn't as if Ītzpāpālōtl was stupid. It isn't like there are tons of magic weapons running around, much less soul-munchers like the one I had. Rationally, who would give a novice like me, a weapon like this? I say again, 'whoops'.Once I'd figured this out, I couldn't stop being me."Theddy, do you like girls?""What?" she squeaked. Here was this psycho trying to drive a Smilodon incisor into her bosom and I was giving her a sex quiz.Ītzpāpālōtl was really starting to struggle now."I, ah, are you okay?" she continued."Oh, I'm dandy. I'm serious. You think this chick is hot? I mean, would you do her in a three-way?" I proposed casually."Timothy?" Sovann."Bro?" Timothy to me."It's all good. Sovann, you want to know what my life is like? This lady who came to discuss business with me today is an immortal mass murderer. You give the word, I'll let go and this knife is going to cut her up like a Ginsu blade on market day because just cutting her heart out isn't going to be enough. Worse. Eventually she'll get back up.""Timothy?" Sovann repeated, this time with more concern. He thought I was nuts. I released my left hand. The blade flipped up, twisting in the avatar's grasp. That was the point her minions figured out something was wrong."El Amado?" the priestess-savant called out softly. The three goons began reaching for 'things'."Call them off, or I open my other hand," I cautioned the avatar. She spared me a swift, hostile look. My fingers tingled."Esten quietos!" she snapped. They stopped."Cáel, bad day, or not. This isn't you. Stop it. The girl's in danger," Timothy spoke up. He didn't mean Theddy. He meant the avatar."I'm being a real asshole, aren't I?" I sighed."Pretty much. You never let the bitches get to you before. Girl pops an attitude, you smile and move on. Life is too short," he reminded me. Too true."I'm going to put my hand over the blade," I told Ītzpāpālōtl. "When I do, you can let go."She didn't say anything for several seconds, even after my left hand covered the semi-serrated edge."Why should I trust you?" she sizzled."Because 'me' letting anything bad happen to you would make me a total, judgmental jerk. I don't know you. Whatever you did before you showed up today shouldn't matter to me. I acted stupidly. I should have stopped you. I didn't. I didn't even warn you and I could have. I was angry, and not even at you. Just angry and I apologize. Now, let go.""Why?""Hi. I'm Cáel Nyilas. Can I have my knife back? Please?"Blink. She released it. For a millisecond, it wanted to do something else because bitches are bitches. It didn't, so my palm wasn't sliced open. My right hand took the hilt. I carefully put the blade away."Yes," Theddy gulped."Huh?" Sovann shook his head at the sudden evaporation of the life and death tension. Welcome to my life. Theddy meant 'yes' to the 'girl-girl-guy' thing I had proposed earlier. It pays to keep things prioritized."What is this movie you were talking about?" Ītzpāpālōtl asked. Had she forgiven me for anything which had transpired? Bwahahaha, no way. She was taking the initiative and going with Option 1 from my earlier insane diatribe."Wait!" Sovann nearly shouted. "You nearly, I don't know, threatened Cáel's life and tried to stab Theddy and now you think you can go with us to a movie?""I told you," Timothy put an arm around his shoulder, "life with Cáel is rarely dull.""I thought you meant he was fun to party with, or something like that," Sovann looked up at his lover. "I thought his uncle showing up, and trying to kill him and then being blown the fuck away by those women and federal agents, and that other girl who pointed a gun at us, is this the new normal?""I love you, Sovann," Timothy grew compassionate. "Cáel is my best friend. He'd never deliberately hurt either of us and normal friends are something he has in short supply. Today being a great case in point."Ten seconds passed."The title is 'As Above, So Below'," Sovann addressed the avatar, "and what do we call you?"Since 'if you are not a worshiper and addressing me, I normally am about to kill you' would sound really cool in Olmec-ic, but I might be asked to translate,"How about we go with 'Obsidian', please?" I pleaded with her.She knew I was currying favor now ~ and behaving like a weather vane caught in the wall of a tornado ~ she gave a gracious bow of her head."Obsidian will do for now. Is the Legend of the dagger 'business'?" Translation: it had better not be."No," I smiled. "It's pillow talk." Rancor, 'how presumptuous', followed by 'but that dagger ups the count to three Goddess interested in him', and next to recalling all the trivial babble about me being a sexual dynamo (I prayed my PR was that good) having some relevance. Her chimera emotions allowed me to get a few more crucial words out, because even women who aren't sleeping with me are jealous."Esta mujer fue la primera en ofrecer bienes funerarios tras la muerte dee mi padre," I reinserted Theddy back into my close company. For some reason, Obsidian considered me unreliable thus had to verify what I'd just said."Did you make funerary offering upon his father's passing?" she asked Theddy. Let's think about this. The wacko chick questioning Theddy had tried to stab a huge freaking blade into her not a minute ago. Fleeing in terror while screaming for the cops? Nope."Yes. I baked him some walnut and caramel chip cookies," she nodded. "It is a family recipe." Sovann looked over the three of us, then back to Timothy."I told you 'that's impressive cocking like I've never seen before'," he explained."She may remain," Obsidian 'permitted'. Theddy wrapped up my right arm with her left and gave it a squeeze. She wanted attention/explanation."Obsidian is a Master Vampire, Theddy," I leaned in and whispered. "Before she was turned, she was captured in a raid by the fey, mentally, spiritually and physically raped and made into their sex-slave. Part of her spirit never healed properly. While this imperfection allows her to walk around in daylight, her heart can never hold on to any emotion for long, so she is forced to forever seek passion, no matter how dangerous, from the world around her."Revealing secrets? Ha. I had noticed Theddy had every work done by Laurel K. Hamilton in her place, including the comic book series."You are not supposed to know, so act like I didn't tell you anything, okay?"'Okay,' she mouthed back at me. I could see it in her eyes. My chaotic life suddenly 'made sense' to her because a best-selling fiction author said so.Obsidian thought the movie was; hilarious. She couldn't stop snickering, giggling and poking at me as horrible shit happened to the various actors. She thought the plot was 'insightful' and wouldn't stop whispering to me throughout the entire thing. During the closing credits, I told her I'd get her the DVD for Christmas ~ she knew the concept behind digital technology, but didn't own any ~ she kissed me.The first kiss was fierce and joyous with the added benefit of her tongue doing things no normal tongue could do, it stretched. Not sure how I felt about that. The second kiss was more sultry, longer and came with some accompanying body action which, I'm no virgin. Not even close. She was on my left side, so when she twisted in her seat, her left leg insinuated itself between mine. Her left hand cupped my jaw and held my head in place as her lips played along mine.A dance of the scorpion perhaps? Tender at first, then suddenly stabbing, dominant and brutal. My lips and tongue battled back, using my superior Kiss-fu to nullify her natural strength and agility. She liked it. By her moaning, she liked it a lot. As the kiss progressed, more and more of her flowed from her seat into my seat, body facing me. Her body rose over mine, forcing my neck back to maintain contact."So, Dot Ishara is hovering around somewhere close, isn't she?" I murmured as our lips separated barely a centimeter apart. One chick kissing you to make another one jealous. It's happened to me plenty of times. Obsidian didn't give a damn about Theddy, or any other mortal woman in close proximity so,"Yes," she purred. "Do you mate with her?""A man does not brag of such things, but no, unless heavy petting counts?""What will she do to you when I steal your seed?"'When'? Why was I not surprised? Why was I not surprised another concussion was in my immediate future either? Was it possible I was, learning?"Chastise me for not fighting harder," I breathed across her lips, "and, in case you forgot, I'm on a date with the girl beside me.""Who I care nothing for," she sent a cruelly playful look Theddy's way. Wisely, the girl shivered."Who I am indebted to and how I honor my debts might matter to you," I hazarded. My words hurt Theddy's feelings. That was on purpose. Obsidian took pleasure in me hurting Theddy because she was basically a vicious monster."Yes?" I pressed her gently."Yes," Obsidian allowed, easing up slightly both romantically and physically."And Theddy, if you believe I'm with you solely because of some sense of obligation, you clearly haven't been listening to your recordings," I shot the human girl a wink."Oh.""Am I, or am I not, a sex-obsessed little monkey?" I teased her. Theddy giggled. I paid for my diversion with four obsidian claws to my ribs outside of Theddy's view. After all, it wasn't like Theddy could possibly compete with her for my attention. Considering Obsidian's legendary ability to rip open her opponent's ribcages and feast upon their hearts, I slipped my left hand, the one next to her between her legs and stroked her cotton-slacks covered cunt.Theddy hugged my right arm and put her head against my shoulder. Not to be outdone," Qu  un centenar dee hombres se quemaron vivos como el sonido?" Obsidian inquired with sexually sadistic hunger. Ah, memories of burning 7P Commandos.Whoops. Theddy knew Spanish."No lo s . Ten an respiradores en," I replied casually. "Si lo desea, puedo describir lo que se siente al tirar de una flecha de guerra lanzar mi propio muslo.""Eep," slipped out of Theddy's lips."Why did you do that?" Obsidian looked over us both."Well, I was showing a little girl I believed in her,""And she shot you?" Theddy gulped."No. She hit the target I was standing next to. A co-worker mistook me for a cardboard cutout of a Jehovah's Witness and let fly. Seems she had issues with organized religion as well as a reaction to the oscillation effect of florescent lighting and ceiling fans.""But why did you pull the arrow out?" Theddy asked. "Couldn't you wait until you got to the hospital?""Mosquito," Obsidian menaced, insinuating Theddy was a pest."I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment, I work in an asylum, I had a hot date in a few hours, any of those three will do," I smiled at Theddy."Copil such as Cáel don't bother with petty human conventions," Obsidian turned my gaze back her way with her hand on my jaw. 'Copil's were 'god-touched' in her lingo."More than one girl?" Theddy mused."Four.""Okay," she sighed happily."Theddy, three under-age girls and the police office he was dating acting as their chaperone," Timothy intervened. "He hurried home so he could keep a promise to the children, not for sex." Bastard. He really was my best friend. He didn't mention my post-injury, pre-festivity sex with Odette giving me a few extra, urgently needed Brownie Points to suggest I might be a decent human being."You are a wonderful guy," Theddy ran a fingernail over my free hand. Clearly I was 'wonderful' enough to risk Obsidian's anger over. The screen went blank as the last credits scrolled away and the room was plunged into darkness. Five seconds later, the lights snapped on.Pain!"Fuck," I hissed. It wasn't any extra physical trauma causing me discomfort. No, a metaphysical dam had burst within and my stream of conscious thought had been turned into a white-water rapids. The competing cyclones of thoughts in my mind had stopped cooperating and my hypothalamus was letting me know I was in danger."Cáel", "Cáel", "Bro", and "Ishara" all came in rapid succession. I needed some space both tangible and social."I need to step outside," I eased Obsidian off me and stood up. My sense of my personal danger was ratcheting up. While I had been studying Obsidian, so I could screw her, I had discovered more and more Alal-badness.The light display had ignited a series of pressing implanted memories which had been clamoring for my attention. Things like not all 'divinities' were stewards of the Weave. Some even wanted its destruction, preferring risking all on a chaotic restructuring of reality over what existed now ~ things like Obsidian. They weren't attempting to do so because they thought they had no chance.But there was. A real serious chance to unravel reality existed; and it was staring her in the face. It wasn't 'me' as in 'I was the Anti-Christ'. But with the torrent of memories pouring forth, I knew where the peril lay and I was completely responsible for it. Hell, I was a prime ally of Armageddon and hadn't even known it.'Holy Shit!'I blinked. Timothy was shaking me. We were out in the lobby."Oh my God, Timothy," I nearly wept. "What am I going to do?""I have no idea what you are talking about. Is there someone you can talk to about this?" he suggested. Normal folks were around us. Obsidian was at my side. Sovann was behind Timothy with an arm around Theddy's shoulder."Theddy," I looked at her. "Can I catch up with you later? I just realized I've screwed up something fierce." I put my best 'really don't want to go but I gotta' face on. Her worried look brightened, she slipped around Timothy and gave me a tingling French kiss."I'll hold you to that, Cáel," she murmured when we parted."Timothy, go home, I got shit to deal with," I hoped my grin didn't become as feeble as I felt it to be."I," he started to say something. "Time not to ask questions?""Yeah.""Okay.""Wait." I pulled us to the side and went on to my toes, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Tell Pamela 'he' sent Ajax to kill the Professor, his family and the sisters. They were the targets all along. It wasn't me, or the other women. Just in case,""Okay," Timothy patted my arm. It was cryptic. It was the best I could do. See, I wanted to cry so badly.{2:09 pm Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Where to begin:Every mythology across the globe has some creature, or creatures, which threatens Existence. Usually a God, or a Hero-God, slays the creature and everything is right with the world, except such a being, being older than Existence itself, can't really die, so they are carved up, buried ~ what have you.Illuyankamunus was one such manifestation of this underlying cancerous desire to destroy reality. He'd had a far more real child, SzelAnya, and she's never quite given up on her dad. Of far greater critical importance, she was 'part' of Illuyankamunus, somewhat in the way I was part of Alal and Baraqu. And yes, that meant all the offspring of Bolu, the guy I'd praised a few hours earlier, held the seeds of that malignant deity as well.And Alal knew it. He hadn't been killing off the descendants. He'd left that task up to a group far more capable of the task, the Egyptian Rite, who knew a fucking threat to existence when they saw it. Lest I forget, No secret society are the 'good guys'. Also lest I forget, I alone decided to go after the Arinniti sons to fulfill Vranus' quest. I had no divine mandate I was aware of nor any real world orders.Inadvertently, I had rounded up the last five mortal remains of Illuyankamunus in one place for convenient disposal in a remote Transylvanian town. The only problem was: if someone didn't get to them quickly, I was also about to whisk them into the loving (and heavy-armed) protective embrace of the Amazon Host, where the completion of centuries of culling would have suddenly become a cast-iron bitch instead of a simple disposal.Enter Ajax. Yeah, I bet the Egyptians were trying to figure out how I stopped him as well as Alal. I thought I was being clever by not telling most of the world. In fact, they most likely suspected; and the reality of SzelAnya watching over me was much more terrifying. Ishara had put a serious curse on the Amazons, yet her curse only affected her followers, the Amazons, who were fair game.SzelAnya had killed someone for me, and I hadn't been one of her followers. Thus I had committed a blasphemous act only a magician of some significant ability could have managed. I wasn't a sorcerer, but I had a cornucopia of mystic knowledge rolling around in my noggin. Trying to figure all this out was one of my major headaches.The others?I even suspected I knew who betrayed me ~ kinda. They didn't do it on purpose. At least I hope they didn't, because my odds-on favorite was my Mother by way of Captain Delilah Faircloth. Realistically, there was only one secret society who might help her against Grandpa and that was the Egyptian Rite, and they did send three people to Dad's funeral including two 'somebodies'. I'm an idiot.I'd chatted away in fluent New Kingdom Egyptian and it never occurred to me how odd it was for two of them to also be so fluent in it. Know it, sure, but as fluent as Kimberly had taught me to be? That should have been a Red Flag.The Earth & Sky had sent Iskender, who should have been the benchmark I judged the other delegations by, damn it.Three Condos? They'd killed my Dad and their guys had been flunkies.The 7 Pillars had been nobodies, which they'd proven by their inaction.Now I had to question why I had 3 actual  9-Clans  assassins at my dad's funeral too. Holy Ishara, I wasn't nearly paranoid enough.Anyway, why would the Amazons be aiding and abetting the End of All Life on Earth? Normally, they wouldn't be, but 3000 years ago, the majority of Human life did a colossal dump on the Amazons. And when they needed help, they got it in the form of SzelAnya and her dual-sex followers. I seriously doubt they told the Amazons their purpose was to resurrect SzelAnya's daddy. I imagine the Amazons didn't pry too much either.It turned out almost to be okay. During the 2nd Betrayal, the Amazons betrayed SzelAnya and almost short-circuited her plans by exterminating her lineage.Except for the Arinniti elders and Bolu. Good old 'except'.I can imagine when the Egyptians heard about the 2nd Betrayal, they figured they were 'okay'. Those wacky Amazons had inadvertently done the world a favor. Except an act of maternal love kept a slender hope of Illuyankamunus' return alive. By the time the Egyptians realized they'd been prematurely hopeful, Bolu's descendants were all over the Balkans and hunting them down had proven difficult.But, it gets worse. Much worse.When those Gods shattered Illuyankamunus, they scattered him in the relative certainty no one would ever gather the parts back together.His flesh was scattered across the land, modern day Turkey, but encompassing everything from Pakistan to Italy and Egypt to Poland. The flesh became soil, then plants, the things that eat plants, then food for humans. Get the picture.Whoops. SzelAnya had been doing just that for centuries upon centuries every time she mated with a mortal of Illuyankamunus' line and had offspring, they accumulated his energy, which made hunting down the few remaining ones easier to find, since they were 'beacons of badness', except...There were two key pieces missing which SzelAnya could never get. After all, you would think burying them on the far side of the world would matter, right?The 'breath of Illuyankamunus' ~ his cosmic fire ~ they buried in a volcano in a distant land far across the Great Sea. His spirit 'body' they imprisoned in a great river, again, across the Great Sea.But wait, it gets worse.The being standing next to me knew precisely where the 'breath of Illuyankamunus' was. Seems Mesoamerica is laced with volcanos. They'd discovered 'the breath' long ago and used it as a weapon called Xiuhcoatl. Better yet, Alal suspected she and her buddies were more than happy to reunite it with the rest if they thought the Weave itself wouldn't annihilate them for daring to do so.In their current, weakened state they were vulnerable to such a karmic backlash. In theory, a reborn Illuyankamunus would have access to power beyond the bounds of the Weave, older and more terrifying. Still, without the mortal remains to anchor the energy, giving it to the spirit would be pointless.Alal knew where the spirit body was (in general), but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was where it was,Of all the places the Arinniti sons could have fled to, they had to choose Brazil, the burial place of the restive spirit body of Illuyankamunus. Mother-fucker.And Ildiko 'Alkonyka' aka Dusk Lovasz had sworn she'd travel to Brazil to fulfill Bolu's side of the quest in the same way I was holding up Vranus' end. If I tried to stop her, SzelAnya would know something was up. Fuck.I was processing all of this when Obsidian violently yanked me out of the way. A cabby had swerved to avoid a flurry of trash and nearly run over us. It was the third near-concussive experience in the past five minutes she'd help me avoid while she had walked by my side. I'd been mumbling like a madman."That would be my Goddess wanting to talk with me," I looked her way."I know," she gave me a clever smile."She's really not going to like that," I shook my head."I know that too," she kept smiling. "Where is your mind?""Five lives away from making the world a safer place," I sighed."Safer for who?" she purred. Where were all the bimbos? Not only was it an insightful question, it cut straight to the heart of my dilemma.What decision could I make? If I elected to help my fellow Amazons, I risked screwing with the world. In truth, I was risking everything even if I did nothing. Well Dad was always clear that things didn't change by themselves. You needed to do something that would have an effect. So, 'What are you going to do?'More to the point, I wasn't Grandad. Killing the last five of the line of Illuyankamunus wasn't 'me', so it wasn't going to be something I'd worry about.SzelAnya wanted to bring back her Dad, I could understand that. I'd have to figure out a way for her to believe this world sticking around was more important. How? Well, I had a goddess-like creature right in front of me to probe for ideas."You are an immortal," Obsidian commented. She'd been weighing her opinion for some time. I could tell by the wonderment with which she gifted each word."What? No. I can die.""No. I don't think so. Your wounds. Normally the wounds I inflict flow freely for some time. Yours have already scabbed over," her eyes flickered to the various minor scars she'd imparted to me in the few hours we'd been together.Of course, her idea was insane, Oh God No! I was in Grandad's body. Well Duh! His body was supposed to be immortal."Are you sure?" I looked deep into her eyes."You are a young immortal, the youngest I've ever met, but you are an immortal," she seemed to be convincing herself as much as me.Stupid Assumption (on my part)! I wasn't in Alal's body. I was in Cáel's. Because the Cáel soul shard was young, Alal hadn't been able to find it because it had moved through Time, to me, sonofabitch! 'I' hadn't been around for him to find. No! I was making yet another damn assumption.What did I know? When Pamela found Baraqu, it had been in an object, not a person, though she had been short on details. When the Alal-shard went to the Land of the Endless Black Sands to bring Saku back, the Cáel-shard had been in reality, so it had been allowed to create a body, 'me'. Still, the curse Sarrat Irkalli placed on Baraqu was on Alal and myself as well, which meant I might just be immortal.My Alal-mind agreed with Obsidian's assessment. In his first years, his healing had been slow, still taking days for what took mortal people weeks. I'd stupidly attributed my swift recovery to Amazon medicines, ugh. Because I got wounded more than most Security Detail trainees while concurrently entertaining two and three sex partners."Can you talk with Dot Ishara?" I asked her."Yes, but why would I?""Sex?""We are going to have sex anyway," she smiled. I'd tricked her. Set her up with the right so I could now drop her with the left."I can bring the mbo  tat  back to life," I pledged. That was not what she was expecting at all. "If you bring the Xiuhcoatl, I can bring the flesh and we can unite the three." Mbo  tat  was the Tupi name for the legendary 'fiery serpent' of the Amazon Basin. In Portuguese, it had become Boi-tat , a will-o-wisp with a confused, Christianized mythology ~ a serpent dwelling in darkness, devouring the eyes of corpses, glowing in the forests at night."Where is the flesh?" she whispered."In his mortal children," I replied."Who?""You are a monster, Ītzpāpālōtl. I'm not going to tell you and you don't have the time to drag the information out of my mind before my allies drop on you like a nuclear detonation," I drew my body tightly to her."Why would the Amazons do this?""They are not. This is a deal between you and me," I kissed her lips. I pulled back. A few seconds later she kissed me back."Why?""My grandfather had my father murdered and I would avenge him. In the end, despite my father's Amazon heritage, my 'Sisters' will let his death go unavenged for the greater good of the Host. He was a man and they will never look beyond that ~ they will never value his life as they would that of a woman.""Your mother's father?""Yes. Cáel O'Shea of the Illuminati.""We are not at war with the Illuminati," she murmured. It was a casual observation, not a protest."You are at war with Cáel O'Shea.""He was slain.""He didn't stay dead.""You know much more than you are saying," she was finally catching on."Absolutely.""I need much more than a few names to convince my kin to help," she purred, a cocktail of sexual immersion and flesh-flaying pain."I don't work for you. You are agreeing to work for me," I was hard as iron in more than one way. Why? Boundaries. She lived in a world where only the fundamentals of reality constrained her. Having a human, no matter how polished my pedigree, or how much I might appear to be 'special', tell her 'you are not the boss' in a reasonable fashion was new and very unwelcome."What would make you think that?""My mentor taught me knowledge is a curse. It is our inability to forget, and I can see into your soul, Ītzpāpālōtl. You care not one wit for the life of an assassin. But the thought of the other 'Factors' of the 9 Clans treating you as an equal galls you almost as much as the crushing reality that you need them."You have lived 500 years in chains and I'm offering you a desperate grab at freedom," I added."Your brief glimpse of immortality gives you no insight into my existence," she bristled."Oh, how many have given up? How many have decided the fight was no longer worth it and faded from the Sunlight to make their final trip into the Underworld, never to return? Do you even visit them?" I spoke with a voice tinged with compassion and loss. I pulled upon the pitiless, blank memories of a childless Alal all those centuries and imprinted on them my own fears of fatherhood and failure."How do you know so much?" she let her fa ade crack, then blow away, in the hollowness of her own sorrow. How could I pity such a monster? I could because I was me and I wouldn't surrender that to the barbaric past and most likely horrific future. I pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head."You are not the first, wonderful, very bright woman who has stepped into my life, Obsidian," I whispered. "You are not even the first divinity. For all the millions of differences enforced by power and time, I think love, hate and the conflict between the two wear upon us all. If anything, you face an endless parade of hope and misery. Even if you chose to ignore it, you have seen it and perhaps it leaves its marks ~ water scarring the rocks of a riverbed."We paused. I was able to peripherally scan about and realize we'd made it to Central Park ~ the Ramble and off the beaten path."Your Goddess is a fool for not keeping you closer," she murmured."She does keep me close. You have been actively keeping me from her," I reminded my guest. "She also plays by the rules, so is of limited help in my plans for vengeance."Translation: I could enlist Ītzpāpālōtl's aid while still remaining loyal to my matron Goddess. Ishara could not provide what I needed and my Amazons wouldn't agree with my scheme, so I needed her. Three hours ago, she wouldn't have considered me a worthy supplicant, much less an allied equal, yet here she was conspiring with me to shake the foundations of Creation.Personally, I was thanking Mamitu, Destiny. Had I not been having my worst Sunday ever when we first crossed paths and then acted like a total cockhead, pissed her off and led her to holding Sarrat Irkalli's dagger, thus putting her life in my hands, and not had Timothy as a best friend, I wouldn't have taken her to the movie, and my mind wouldn't have wandered down those dark corridors of Alal's memories to piece things together.Whatever itinerary Obsidian had approached me with, my abrasive behavior had forced her to it cast aside. Dagger, movie, revelations, I was now so much more in her eyes than she had envisioned."Share my need and share with me an ounce of your sorrow," I murmured to her as I gently curled my fingers in her hair and directed her head up until she faced me."The dagger," she rumbled. While she was stroking my hard-on, I knew she was using it as a double meaning."I was pinned to an onyx sacrificial table," I began my tale. We worked off pants to mid-thigh then 'got busy'. Penetration was only going to be possible by turning her around. Ground-breaking was her ready acceptance of my instruction. I leaned against a tree, then pulled her onto my lap. She guided my phallus home.One locomotion and I sunk in deep. It was warm molasses until I hit and pressed against her cervix. For a second Obsidian trembled, then her muscles clamped down tightly, gripping my manhood firmly in a vise, keeping me still."Ah," I groaned. Obsidian had her neck twisted, so we were kissing with eye contact as I described my adventures with the Gong tau sorcerers. She shot me a quick twinkle of delight, a connection. She'd relayed physical pleasure in the way I was giving her cerebral gratification, aka hope.I rolled up her shirt, and gave both nipples a brutal tweak in response. She gasped. I was applying a little 'rough' with my tender intercourse. She rolled her tush against my groin, an invitation to double-down on my nipple-play. I kept my left hand working over each tit while working my fingernails down her abdomen. As I described the terror in old Tsu's face as he shouted out 'M iyǒu! (Mandarin for 'No!') as he recognized too late the curse he was invoking. She relished the visual of the Han necromancer's terror.'Me' smacking two fingers down on her clit earned me a squeal and a small gush of fluids on my nut-sack. Her look of astonishment was something I'd always cherish. Before me, sex was something she demanded from her followers/victims and definitely orchestrated. Her partners being fearful/worshipful must have limited their initiative."A-a-a-ah, we are being observed," she groaned, her lips less than an inch from mine. It took me a second."Which direction?" I kept pumping her, strumming her clit and treating her tit like taffy on a hot Coney Island summer afternoon. Her hooded eyes flickered to our right. I gave it ten seconds. I had to get Obsidian refocused on what I was going to do to her next, in case this was innocent voyeurism. Nope. It was Chaz.Why Chaz? See, I'm an idiot. My cryptic warning to Timothy for Pamela had been good for all of one minute. He'd called her and she'd gathered what she could and come looking for me.Why was she concerned? I was babbling to Timothy then wandering off with a 'beyond-freaky' chick I had just met named 'Obsidian' who came my way courtesy of another chick with the name of Estere.Let me see, Estere was Hashashin and for Timothy to describe someone in my life as 'beyond freaky' was bad news. Timothy was seriously worried about me and Timothy was an emotional rock ~ he didn't panic. Lest we forget, I was in a federal taskforce. A quick peek into New York traffic cameras revealed me and Obsidian wandering into Central Park from the south, so in the rescue party went, splitting up and Chaz 'lucked-out'.I still had two, no, three problems. I was really enjoying my sexual excursion with Obsidian and she was seeming to truly enjoy her experience with me. Oh, and Central Park is big, Pamela had been pressed for people, so she had pressed some unlikely participants into my rescue party."He's," smooch, "my brother, by adoption," I headed off the whole idea she'd been briefed on me already."Visual, Peacekeeper Six, OS2, L-11," Chaz muttered into his headset before taking up a casual stance on the path overlooking our trysting spot. Sex with an audience didn't bother her, so, we worked out as much action from twist, turns and two inches of in-and-out motions (she liked to keep our bodies tight) as we could. Obsidian was humming along in no time. Her vaginal walls were undulating, wearing away at my self-control.Panting, not from us,"Is he o, are they, who is she?" huffed and puffed a trio of voices from Chaz's locale. Oh. Pamela had recruited my 'Hounds'.I accidently (from a timing perspective) took that moment to grind my nails into her left nipple, pinched her clit and hammered her as hard as I could. Obsidian howled. Her vocalization exited the human realm in a cataclysmic manner.The noise scared avians a mile away into terrorized flight. Cats hissed, then raced for cover. Dogs tucked tail and ran. Streetlights a hundred yards away shattered in sprays of glass. Better yet, for the entertainment of my viewing public, she lashed out with her right hand at the closest Black Cherry sapling, exploding it into a mist of sap and pulverizing the bark and wood fiber into pulp.On the downside, her cervix gave my balls an ultimatum ~ release my seed at once, or she was going to twist off my head. My cock and balls have a long history of making decisions without me. I began lavishing her. Before I finally got the feeling I was out of the danger zone. She was back to rubbing against me and purring in blissful satisfaction."Onun g zleri," whispered Belgin, one of the Turks. 'Her eyes'?"Cáel, are you aware of the alternative nature of your liaison?" Chaz coolly cautioned me. Translation: 'mate, do you know you have your cock in a demon?'"Yeah," I coughed. I had a face full of her hair. I was working on some post-coital nuzzling along with slowly helping her get her pants back up."Ininzqueoccehpa," she hummed to me, ignoring our gathering. That was 'let's do this again'."Tehuatlcochitlehua," I replied with some fondness. She studied me for a second before deciding my term was one of endearment, thus 'you are what dreams are made of', not 'nightmares'.Obsidian had another issue to deal with. Timothy would call it a righteous cocking. Whatever it was, her hold on her human mein had slipped and her inhumanity was slipping through, mainly in her glass-like, black, multi-facetted eyes and her fingers which now ended in molten obsidian talons. On the subconscious level, her predatory nature was setting everyone close-by on edge. I could also make out the high pitched, ultrasonic pipping of her chiropteran cries ~ purpose unknown.Obsidian made her way off farther into the underbrush leaving me a few precious seconds to appreciate her retreating posterior while holstering my equipment. More people were arriving. I had one more thing to take care of before, oh look, Nikita had brought her Mom along, the NYPD Sergeant."Chaz, I need to have a quick chat with Dot before I can explain things. She's been waiting and that's unwise," I looked to the Brit. He nodded."Cáel? Mr. Nyilas? Prince?" all came my way. I relaxed as best I could. Chaz went to a body blow to stagger me, then an epic upper cut to send me to Lullaby Land.Dot & the DragonessDot and SzelAnya, in dragon form, were waiting as I tumbled forward. By the state of my haziness, I knew my unconsciousness wouldn't last long."You gave her your seed," came the accusation."Yes," I staggered, "and now you should be able to track her," I pointed out the bonus part of the arrangement. No comment."I've got to make this quick, SzelAnya, I've found your father, geographically speaking," I dropped the bomb."Don't," Dot Ishara commanded. After all, she and her divine cohorts had done the killing and corpse-dividing eons ago. Undoubtedly, they'd executed their own oaths to one another to 'never reveal what they had done' as well."Too late," I shook my head. SzelAnya's attention was magnetized. "I owe you and I'm paying my debts. I'm not blind to the dangers, believe me.""You have no idea what power you are invoking," Dot's undercurrent of displeasure was the worst I'd experienced."Wrong. I've got thousands of years of Alal boiling around in my head, Plus the rest of you betrayed her 2600 years ago. It doesn't mean I have to. And now, given the chance, I'm not. Even if you kill me, she's got enough toBack in the Ramble"Really expect me to believe," Nikita's mom was growling."Man down," I waved a weak arm skyward."Mr. Nyilas, what is going on here?" the Sergeant addressed me. I was reclining in a circle of my 'Hounds'; most were kneeling. Chaz was in a tiny bit of trouble for having clocked me."Umm, thanks for coming out and looking for me. I assure you, Mr. Tomorrow did what he did as a matter of his professional duties ~ intelligence gathering." As I struggled to stand, my ladies helped me. I saw Pamela with three Hounds coming up fast from one direction and Virginia with three more coming from the other. The gang was all here.The mutterings in non-English tongues suggested a bit of explaining was already going on."You've been bleeding," Nikita pointed out with an unspoken 'again'."This?" I pulled my shirt out and looked at the first bloodstain of my encounter. "This is the just the start of the bad news." I shed my windbreaker and then t-shirt.The professionals shouldered aside the others to take a closer look."All of these are from noon and less than an hour ago," I identified the damage. Sarge was skeptical. Chaz, Nikita and Virginia less so."They look older," the senior lawman noted."I've been curious about that," Chaz frowned."I've inherited my Grandfather's curse. My soul fragment was in the 'Here and Now' twenty-three years ago while his was, 'over there', so I was allowed to come into creation. According to my recently departed guest,""You are immortal," Virginia mumbled to finish the thought. Had the speaker not been a member of the FBI, who knows how the thought would have been received."From the memories I've been gifted with," I tapped the tiny divot on my forehead, "his healing abilities started out rather slowly too. I certainly don't want to test this theory, so no worries there," I scanned the group."How do you explain seeing your Grandfather in Hungary and again in Rome?" Virginia wondered."Again, that woman who just left," I got out."Was no woman," Nuray, another one of my Turkish Hounds interrupted. "Her eyes..." she tried to explain, "and look what she did to that tree," she pointed to the greatest piece of evidence of supernatural wrongdoing. The other two witnesses nodded."We all saw the same thing. Her eyes were, bottomless, definitely not human," Belgin affirmed. The veteran players looked to Chaz."She had a collapsed nose-bridge, lacked a blink response, her dental work was carnivorous and her tongue was extremely clipped and showed prehensile qualities," he reported calmly. Pause. Chaz was a freaking intelligence operative, after all."If her hands were a type of glove weaponry, I've never seen it s like before. While I know it is possible for a human to exert the force-pounds necessary to snap a two inch diameter tree trunk in one blow, it is a rare skill and requires intense discipline. This appeared to be done spontaneously, without preparation of any kind and as a reaction to other stimuli," he added."It was also your assessment he needed to be knocked unconscious?" Nikita's mom countered."Mr. Nyilas' psychological constructs are something the whole team has to work around. At times, he seeks 'insight' from his mind in a deliberately unconscious/non-sleep state," he replied."He claims to be talking with spirit powers. I know when he returns to consciousness, he delivers useful intelligence. I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or psychic. I don't know why his mind functions that way. I do know results. And I know I work with people who would achieve those results by other means if it were at all possible. Since we haven't found another method, we accept that from tim

Imagine driving 11 hours just to get back flipped on to a spiked bat.  This week we talk the road to Wrestlemania in 2025 and 2000.  And in our top topic, we show the glaring difference between AEW's women's roster and NXT's.  Inadvertently.  Also this week:   - News - This week in AEW, NJPW, TNA, and WWE - Bring it to the Table - This week in the Monday Night Wars - Top Topic: The Top of Today's Women's Crop - 2025 Edition

Jackie's lonely deep-space post enjoys delicious company.Based on a post by Alizzia. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Jackie awoke to a twinkling, navy-blue night. She lay still, perceived the idle murmer of gulls and surf, the sweet air, the soft and runny sand against her back. With every little rush of the surf, a liquid touch caressed her. Startlingly chill. Goosebumps prickled her naked form. She pulled a long, resuscitating breath, sat up.She nearly gasped. Out on the surf, submerged to the dimpled saddle of his hips, stood a bare and strapping figure. Head tipped to the moon, he raised and clasped corded hands, stretched. He twisted, hummed as he arched the broad, inverted triangle of his lats. Yawning luxuriantly, he turned, dropped his arms, smiled at Jackie.Jackie's pulse fluttered. She returned the crinkled hazel eyes' smile. The figure blushed a hint, turned a bashful eye to the sea. He approached. Surf split and foamed about his hips, thighs, knees, ankles. All softly corded, olive, and bare.He stopped inches from Jackie's toes, let his gaze drag over her, slow. She blushed in return, twisted a little, pulled and bent her knees to touch. Responding, his eyes flicked to her face, stopped there. Though not a turn of betrayed sentiment showed on his lips, a soft bundle of creases remained at the corners of his eyes, somehow more intense. He lingered on her mouth, nose, eyes, canted his head just a hint. A hoarse, longing sigh rose from his chest.Some melted excitement splashed into Jackie's chest and belly. Returning the gaze in full measure, she straightened her legs, arms, lay back on the sand. She raised a challenging brow.Slow, the figure knelt, touched one knee to the beach, then the other. He straddled just one of Jackie's legs, bent, placed heavy hands beside her head. Jackie could hear the wet sand squish under his weight. He bent ever so close, stopped, just breathed. Not a slip of skin touched between them. Droplets fell from his locks and long nose, fell just inches before rolling down Jackie's cheeks. He smelt of salt and earth.Jackie's lips parted involuntarily, asymmetrically. Never breaking her gaze, she stretched, wriggled just a bit, tilted her groin and chin. She heard the figure's pupils dilate, heard his shuddering breath, sensed his heavy arousal. A small smile of glee split her face. She squirmed in the sand beneath him, like a sea star, free beneath his hanging weight. Then, suddenly deadly serious, she stopped. With dearest care, she shifted just a little, pulled the inside of a smooth thigh to meet his knee. The figure shuddered, shut his eyes. Jackie struck, pushed her lips into his. For a moment, she could taste the warmth, the salt. Then, the world spun.The figure disappeared. The stars went out. The black sky fell away. Jackie awoke to a riveted, titanium ceiling studded with white lights. She flailed momently, gasping wetly. Tubes hung before her face, wet with the spit of her own trachea. Pressure lifted from her wrists, ankles, and abdomen. She began to float from the padded pod where she lay.Jackie's clumsy fingers found rails on either edge of the pod. She held herself within, panted. She swallowed dryly, blinked, surveyed the pod, her white sleep shorts and top, the room about her. After a moment, she groaned in recognition and disappointment. Any arousal she'd experienced had flown with her dream, left her with naught but a sodden crotch in a chilly room."Good morning, Specialist Jaqueline Kent," said a voice, at once sonorous and very dull.Jackie tried to sit up and look over the side of the bed. The inertia of the action strained her fingers. Her hands split from the rail. She floated from the bed, frowned.Across the room was a crop-haired man in red. His cotton jumpsuit strained where it failed to accommodate his chest and back. He had cold, blue eyes and a pointed nose. He held onto a support rail, feet firmly affixed to the vaguely-concave floor in magnet boots."Who the fu..." coughed Jackie, barely audible. She rasped. "The fuck are you?" She inadvertently turned upside down in the microgravity, crossed her arms over her floating tits."My pardon, Specialist Kent. My designation is Sam.""You're..." said Jackie, trying to find a more dignified stance. She failed, ended up sort of weakly kicking off the side wall. She made a face as she clipped the stasis pod, wheeled into Sam. Her face collided with his broad chest. He caught her there. For a moment, Jackie's cheek and nose pressed into him. He was firm, but soft. He smelled of soap and salt."You're a service unit, an organic android?" she said, frowning, as Sam pulled her away from him."Indeed.""Why isn't this place being spun for gravity?" raged Jackie, shuffling from his grasp. Strong fingers released from her upper arms."The habitat is spun for only eight hours of the 24-hour cycle, per regulated health minimums. Generator and battery capacity are prioritized for the lighthouse array, rather than gravity rotors. The next spin commences tonight, in several minutes," said Sam, smiling thinly. "For now, please accept these mag boots.""Fine," said Jackie, cold. She bumped against the wall, struggled to pull a boot on. The other floated away. She made a face, huffed, weak from stasis sleep. "Please, allow me," said Sam. For just a moment, Jackie twisted her face as if to protest, but relented. She moved close, allowed the android to wrap an arm around each of her calves in turn, slip a boot over the foot, and strap it tight. For a moment, she relaxed, felt the long hands wrap near-entirely round her bare ankles. They were firm, but not rough. Sam moved away. "There."Jackie tentatively pushed away, set a foot to the floor, felt it stick. "Thanks," she said, quietly."Allow me to show you around the lighthouse. Afterwards, you may recuperate. It will only take a moment. The station is not large, and I understand by your Company service record that you have served in this role before.""There wasn't an android on my last lighthouse. I do this job because I like the solitude."Sam looked genuinely regretful. "I am sorry. You must understand I was attached to this station by the company. I am their property.""Yeah, yeah," said Jackie, seeing his face. A spike of empathy broke through her grumpiness. "You don't seem like bad company, anyway. What model are you?" she said, as Sam opened the hatch for them to exit."I am a Serault Corporation Ceres-6," he said, stepping through. Jackie followed. The concave floor of the room beyond was double-walled transparent alloy. It acted as a gigantic window out onto the red and purple nebula which the lighthouse was meant to warn of. Along the walls, set so one might look down into the nebula, were leather benches, a few pod chairs, and a bed with microgravity webbing, all somewhat worn. Crimson light played over the white upholstery and sheets.Jackie looked over the living quarters, far nicer than she'd had before. She gaped at the nebula for a moment, watched a streak of magenta light cross Sam's eyes and face. "So, you're one of those white-blooded ones?""My internal serum is a sucrose base. It serves modified roles in all my body fluids. It is indeed an off-white.""Sucrose? A real sweetie, huh?""If indeed it were to be tasted, my serum would taste of sugar." He looked her in the eyes, terribly sincere.Jackie looked away, grinned uncomfortably. "Right. Have any other special features?" she said, sarcastic."As Ceres-6 models are designed for small crew missions, our personality precepts are mutable. We change in reaction or in request to facilitate maximum compatibility.""Ah, well. Good to know." Jackie looked about awkwardly, arms crossed. "I take it this is my room?""Indeed, this is the lighthouse keeper's room," he blinked at her, slow."And where do you sleep?""Though I do not often enter my hibernation cycle, I have a pod in the crew maintenance room we just exited."Jackie suddenly uncrossed her arms, waved one about. "Listen, do you need to stare me straight in the eyeballs all the time? It's freaking me out.""Would you prefer I focus on a different portion of your body?" said Sam. He concernedly looked at her left foot."Like, shit. No. Just let your eyes wander like a normal person, okay?""Understood," said Sam. He glanced at her eyes, then about the room, then down into the floor-window."A little less wildly, maybe.""Yes, Specialist Kent." His eyes flitted over Jackie, focused momently on the nipples poking through her airy sleep top. Jackie crossed her arms, blushed. "And call me Jackie, not Specialist Kent.""Understood, Jackie.""And smile a bit more.""Of course," he said, doing so. Jackie shivered, not from the chill air. The lines which pulled about the android's eyes and nose bridge turned the cold face quite warm. It stayed that way."Well," said Jackie, hesitating. "We're getting on better already," she said, only half as sarcastic as she meant. "Can we continue the tour? I could use a shower.""Of course." He continued to a hatch on the other side of the room. Jackie stepped through as well. They entered a circular room with a ladder in the center. The walls were ringed with computer panels and other hatches."This is the primary communication room. Here, you-""Sam, I know how to use the comms.""My apologies," he said. "This hatch leads to the EVA room. This one to the galley. This one to life support. The ladder leads up to the secondary systems and down to engineering.""I take it life support has the shower?""Indeed.""Great. Anything else?""No. We commence operation tomorrow morning, approximately an hour after the eight-hour spin." He broke off for a moment, canted his head. His eyes trailed over Jackie's bare abdomen, likely by chance. She squirmed, regardless. Sam raised his eyebrows, continued. "The spin, which I believe should commence now."There was a jerk, a hollow whine in the hull of the station, a rush in Jackie's ears. Jackie and Sam slowly settled under the centrifugal forces. Jackie adjusted her shorts, surreptitiously. "I'm going to shower.""There are requisite uniforms and undergarments waiting for you.""Gee, thanks for laying out my underwear.""Of course, Jackie."Jackie shook her head, kicked off the mag boots, stomped to the life support bay. She shut the hatch with a good deal of force. The bathroom was behind a secondary hatch, near the spare air purification tanks and the waterless laundry engine. It was stark, shiny white, floored with nobly grip tiles. There were indeed clothes laid out for her: A red jumpsuit and white boyshorts. Jackie passed them just a glance before dropping her shorts and top. Naked, she passed the small mirror, sneered at her baggy eyes, her body, depilated for stasis sleep.She stepped into the shower. A touch panel reading "Shower Ration: 2 Minutes," met her."Same old station-life," she groaned, punched the Start key.A vertical shower hit from above. Mist quickly filled the room. Jackie moaned for the heat, turned her head and chest to face the stream. Little rivulets poured from her nose, chin, nipples. At these she looked askance, gently surprised. She cupped, rubbed one between thumb and forefinger experimentally, sighed a little. She repeated this with both, sighed a lot. Doing so, suddenly quite determined, she stepped back and leaned back, pressed her rump against the white wall. One hand, the right one, slipped between her hairless legs, which she widened just sufficiently. They wobbled a bit, weak from stasis. She leaned harder against the wall, slipped a middle finger over and through her dripping vulva, split the lips, found it dripping inside, too. The left hand joined, found the clit, elicited a hum, a bitten lip. Several wet seconds later, a groan. Jackie's face tipped upwards. Her thighs twitched. Droplets hit her screwed-up eyelids, her open mouth.The water stopped abruptly. Jackie jerked upright. "Motherfucker," she said, a cry fading into a mumble. She leaned through the steam, slightly pigeontoed, red the touch panel. It said, "Time until next Shower Ration: 18 hours." Jackie rubbed her temples, groaned resignedly. The cold of the station was already seeping into the shower. Quickly, she dried, performed her remaining ablutions, threw on the insulated red jumpsuit over still-aching nipples.Jackie emerged to find Sam in the life-support bay. He was shirtless, jumpsuit rolled at the waste, supine beneath a large conduit emitting steam. Droplets rolled over his long fingers and corded forearms, dripped and slid over an expanse of blond-furred chest. Veins stood out in his neck and arms, swollen from the effort of having just slotted a hefty filter into place. As Jackie approached, he turned."Jackie," he said, emerging carefully from under the conduit. He panted gently, lips parted just a tad. They were pink, creased. Human. "How are we?""I'm fine, thanks," said Jackie, forcibly pulling her eyes to his. She looked for a moment longer, watched a vein pulse on his temple. "If you don't mind me saying, you're damn realistic, aren't you?""I am, on the exterior, functionally and visually indistinguishable from a human man.""Yup," said Jackie, moving to leave."Jackie?"She turned back a moment. "Yes?""Is the station too cold for your comfort?" His eyes brows, cream and near-invisible, were arched in concern.Jackie squinted, raised an eyebrow. "No. It's fine.""Good. And, do make sure to have the appropriate post-stasis ration packs. I have concerns your flight here has left you low on muscle mass."Jackie turned away. "Yeah."She opened the hatch to her quarters, shut it with a huff. One protein pack later, she had stripped off her jumpsuit, dead asleep.Hours later, Jackie woke to a crimson nebulaic glow. She floated, bleary, in the microgravity webbing. The vibrating hum of the spin-rotors had died. Now, there was merely silence. Dully, Jackie moved to turn over under the webbing. As her thighs shifted, she felt a tingling wetness from some dream she couldn't remember. Idly, half asleep, she let a fingertip creep down her belly, trace over the soaked groin of her shorts, begin to prod, massage. She hummed, rubbed her cheek into the netting.Nearby, a hatch creaked open. Jackie jerked awake, hang back her hand, froze."Ready to get to work, Specialist Jackie?"Jackie groaned. "Yup," she said. Sam nodded, smiled, retreated into the comms room. The hatch clacked shut.Only after clambering out of the sleep webbing did Jackie realize her floating tits had been in full view. The Corporation had some odd opinions about bras in space. Jackie shook her head. "Chill, girl. Robot doesn't care."The proceeding five hours were a floating blur. Jackie stood in the comms room, directed ship after ship in non-collision courses around the nebula. The job was a steep and constant series of calls and responses to incoming and waiting craft. Sam assisted."Astroliner 313, after well veer, climb straight ahead five degrees Kepler. Thank you.""Jackie, we have a Corsican military craft requesting expedited access," said Sam."Tell him to follow the greens and stand by for expedite.""EES Pearl River is expressing a complaint.""Send them the docs. They can deal with the Company." She changed channels. "Yes, Arrowtine Sirius, you have permission to take route bravo in five. Thank you.""Jackie, I'm directing Designate 476 to hold. Their cargo requires maximum berth.""Thanks, Sam."Sam smiled thinly at her. He had started doing that more often. His eyes stayed crinkled kindly, when he did. Jackie kept watching him.Abruptly, Sam frowned. "Jackie, we have an error.""What?""New connections are timing out. We have a receiver down from d

Jackie's lonely deep-space post enjoys delicious company.Based on a post by Alizzia. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Jackie awoke to a twinkling, navy-blue night. She lay still, perceived the idle murmer of gulls and surf, the sweet air, the soft and runny sand against her back. With every little rush of the surf, a liquid touch caressed her. Startlingly chill. Goosebumps prickled her naked form. She pulled a long, resuscitating breath, sat up.She nearly gasped. Out on the surf, submerged to the dimpled saddle of his hips, stood a bare and strapping figure. Head tipped to the moon, he raised and clasped corded hands, stretched. He twisted, hummed as he arched the broad, inverted triangle of his lats. Yawning luxuriantly, he turned, dropped his arms, smiled at Jackie.Jackie's pulse fluttered. She returned the crinkled hazel eyes' smile. The figure blushed a hint, turned a bashful eye to the sea. He approached. Surf split and foamed about his hips, thighs, knees, ankles. All softly corded, olive, and bare.He stopped inches from Jackie's toes, let his gaze drag over her, slow. She blushed in return, twisted a little, pulled and bent her knees to touch. Responding, his eyes flicked to her face, stopped there. Though not a turn of betrayed sentiment showed on his lips, a soft bundle of creases remained at the corners of his eyes, somehow more intense. He lingered on her mouth, nose, eyes, canted his head just a hint. A hoarse, longing sigh rose from his chest.Some melted excitement splashed into Jackie's chest and belly. Returning the gaze in full measure, she straightened her legs, arms, lay back on the sand. She raised a challenging brow.Slow, the figure knelt, touched one knee to the beach, then the other. He straddled just one of Jackie's legs, bent, placed heavy hands beside her head. Jackie could hear the wet sand squish under his weight. He bent ever so close, stopped, just breathed. Not a slip of skin touched between them. Droplets fell from his locks and long nose, fell just inches before rolling down Jackie's cheeks. He smelt of salt and earth.Jackie's lips parted involuntarily, asymmetrically. Never breaking her gaze, she stretched, wriggled just a bit, tilted her groin and chin. She heard the figure's pupils dilate, heard his shuddering breath, sensed his heavy arousal. A small smile of glee split her face. She squirmed in the sand beneath him, like a sea star, free beneath his hanging weight. Then, suddenly deadly serious, she stopped. With dearest care, she shifted just a little, pulled the inside of a smooth thigh to meet his knee. The figure shuddered, shut his eyes. Jackie struck, pushed her lips into his. For a moment, she could taste the warmth, the salt. Then, the world spun.The figure disappeared. The stars went out. The black sky fell away. Jackie awoke to a riveted, titanium ceiling studded with white lights. She flailed momently, gasping wetly. Tubes hung before her face, wet with the spit of her own trachea. Pressure lifted from her wrists, ankles, and abdomen. She began to float from the padded pod where she lay.Jackie's clumsy fingers found rails on either edge of the pod. She held herself within, panted. She swallowed dryly, blinked, surveyed the pod, her white sleep shorts and top, the room about her. After a moment, she groaned in recognition and disappointment. Any arousal she'd experienced had flown with her dream, left her with naught but a sodden crotch in a chilly room."Good morning, Specialist Jaqueline Kent," said a voice, at once sonorous and very dull.Jackie tried to sit up and look over the side of the bed. The inertia of the action strained her fingers. Her hands split from the rail. She floated from the bed, frowned.Across the room was a crop-haired man in red. His cotton jumpsuit strained where it failed to accommodate his chest and back. He had cold, blue eyes and a pointed nose. He held onto a support rail, feet firmly affixed to the vaguely-concave floor in magnet boots."Who the fu..." coughed Jackie, barely audible. She rasped. "The fuck are you?" She inadvertently turned upside down in the microgravity, crossed her arms over her floating tits."My pardon, Specialist Kent. My designation is Sam.""You're..." said Jackie, trying to find a more dignified stance. She failed, ended up sort of weakly kicking off the side wall. She made a face as she clipped the stasis pod, wheeled into Sam. Her face collided with his broad chest. He caught her there. For a moment, Jackie's cheek and nose pressed into him. He was firm, but soft. He smelled of soap and salt."You're a service unit, an organic android?" she said, frowning, as Sam pulled her away from him."Indeed.""Why isn't this place being spun for gravity?" raged Jackie, shuffling from his grasp. Strong fingers released from her upper arms."The habitat is spun for only eight hours of the 24-hour cycle, per regulated health minimums. Generator and battery capacity are prioritized for the lighthouse array, rather than gravity rotors. The next spin commences tonight, in several minutes," said Sam, smiling thinly. "For now, please accept these mag boots.""Fine," said Jackie, cold. She bumped against the wall, struggled to pull a boot on. The other floated away. She made a face, huffed, weak from stasis sleep. "Please, allow me," said Sam. For just a moment, Jackie twisted her face as if to protest, but relented. She moved close, allowed the android to wrap an arm around each of her calves in turn, slip a boot over the foot, and strap it tight. For a moment, she relaxed, felt the long hands wrap near-entirely round her bare ankles. They were firm, but not rough. Sam moved away. "There."Jackie tentatively pushed away, set a foot to the floor, felt it stick. "Thanks," she said, quietly."Allow me to show you around the lighthouse. Afterwards, you may recuperate. It will only take a moment. The station is not large, and I understand by your Company service record that you have served in this role before.""There wasn't an android on my last lighthouse. I do this job because I like the solitude."Sam looked genuinely regretful. "I am sorry. You must understand I was attached to this station by the company. I am their property.""Yeah, yeah," said Jackie, seeing his face. A spike of empathy broke through her grumpiness. "You don't seem like bad company, anyway. What model are you?" she said, as Sam opened the hatch for them to exit."I am a Serault Corporation Ceres-6," he said, stepping through. Jackie followed. The concave floor of the room beyond was double-walled transparent alloy. It acted as a gigantic window out onto the red and purple nebula which the lighthouse was meant to warn of. Along the walls, set so one might look down into the nebula, were leather benches, a few pod chairs, and a bed with microgravity webbing, all somewhat worn. Crimson light played over the white upholstery and sheets.Jackie looked over the living quarters, far nicer than she'd had before. She gaped at the nebula for a moment, watched a streak of magenta light cross Sam's eyes and face. "So, you're one of those white-blooded ones?""My internal serum is a sucrose base. It serves modified roles in all my body fluids. It is indeed an off-white.""Sucrose? A real sweetie, huh?""If indeed it were to be tasted, my serum would taste of sugar." He looked her in the eyes, terribly sincere.Jackie looked away, grinned uncomfortably. "Right. Have any other special features?" she said, sarcastic."As Ceres-6 models are designed for small crew missions, our personality precepts are mutable. We change in reaction or in request to facilitate maximum compatibility.""Ah, well. Good to know." Jackie looked about awkwardly, arms crossed. "I take it this is my room?""Indeed, this is the lighthouse keeper's room," he blinked at her, slow."And where do you sleep?""Though I do not often enter my hibernation cycle, I have a pod in the crew maintenance room we just exited."Jackie suddenly uncrossed her arms, waved one about. "Listen, do you need to stare me straight in the eyeballs all the time? It's freaking me out.""Would you prefer I focus on a different portion of your body?" said Sam. He concernedly looked at her left foot."Like, shit. No. Just let your eyes wander like a normal person, okay?""Understood," said Sam. He glanced at her eyes, then about the room, then down into the floor-window."A little less wildly, maybe.""Yes, Specialist Kent." His eyes flitted over Jackie, focused momently on the nipples poking through her airy sleep top. Jackie crossed her arms, blushed. "And call me Jackie, not Specialist Kent.""Understood, Jackie.""And smile a bit more.""Of course," he said, doing so. Jackie shivered, not from the chill air. The lines which pulled about the android's eyes and nose bridge turned the cold face quite warm. It stayed that way."Well," said Jackie, hesitating. "We're getting on better already," she said, only half as sarcastic as she meant. "Can we continue the tour? I could use a shower.""Of course." He continued to a hatch on the other side of the room. Jackie stepped through as well. They entered a circular room with a ladder in the center. The walls were ringed with computer panels and other hatches."This is the primary communication room. Here, you-""Sam, I know how to use the comms.""My apologies," he said. "This hatch leads to the EVA room. This one to the galley. This one to life support. The ladder leads up to the secondary systems and down to engineering.""I take it life support has the shower?""Indeed.""Great. Anything else?""No. We commence operation tomorrow morning, approximately an hour after the eight-hour spin." He broke off for a moment, canted his head. His eyes trailed over Jackie's bare abdomen, likely by chance. She squirmed, regardless. Sam raised his eyebrows, continued. "The spin, which I believe should commence now."There was a jerk, a hollow whine in the hull of the station, a rush in Jackie's ears. Jackie and Sam slowly settled under the centrifugal forces. Jackie adjusted her shorts, surreptitiously. "I'm going to shower.""There are requisite uniforms and undergarments waiting for you.""Gee, thanks for laying out my underwear.""Of course, Jackie."Jackie shook her head, kicked off the mag boots, stomped to the life support bay. She shut the hatch with a good deal of force. The bathroom was behind a secondary hatch, near the spare air purification tanks and the waterless laundry engine. It was stark, shiny white, floored with nobly grip tiles. There were indeed clothes laid out for her: A red jumpsuit and white boyshorts. Jackie passed them just a glance before dropping her shorts and top. Naked, she passed the small mirror, sneered at her baggy eyes, her body, depilated for stasis sleep.She stepped into the shower. A touch panel reading "Shower Ration: 2 Minutes," met her."Same old station-life," she groaned, punched the Start key.A vertical shower hit from above. Mist quickly filled the room. Jackie moaned for the heat, turned her head and chest to face the stream. Little rivulets poured from her nose, chin, nipples. At these she looked askance, gently surprised. She cupped, rubbed one between thumb and forefinger experimentally, sighed a little. She repeated this with both, sighed a lot. Doing so, suddenly quite determined, she stepped back and leaned back, pressed her rump against the white wall. One hand, the right one, slipped between her hairless legs, which she widened just sufficiently. They wobbled a bit, weak from stasis. She leaned harder against the wall, slipped a middle finger over and through her dripping vulva, split the lips, found it dripping inside, too. The left hand joined, found the clit, elicited a hum, a bitten lip. Several wet seconds later, a groan. Jackie's face tipped upwards. Her thighs twitched. Droplets hit her screwed-up eyelids, her open mouth.The water stopped abruptly. Jackie jerked upright. "Motherfucker," she said, a cry fading into a mumble. She leaned through the steam, slightly pigeontoed, red the touch panel. It said, "Time until next Shower Ration: 18 hours." Jackie rubbed her temples, groaned resignedly. The cold of the station was already seeping into the shower. Quickly, she dried, performed her remaining ablutions, threw on the insulated red jumpsuit over still-aching nipples.Jackie emerged to find Sam in the life-support bay. He was shirtless, jumpsuit rolled at the waste, supine beneath a large conduit emitting steam. Droplets rolled over his long fingers and corded forearms, dripped and slid over an expanse of blond-furred chest. Veins stood out in his neck and arms, swollen from the effort of having just slotted a hefty filter into place. As Jackie approached, he turned."Jackie," he said, emerging carefully from under the conduit. He panted gently, lips parted just a tad. They were pink, creased. Human. "How are we?""I'm fine, thanks," said Jackie, forcibly pulling her eyes to his. She looked for a moment longer, watched a vein pulse on his temple. "If you don't mind me saying, you're damn realistic, aren't you?""I am, on the exterior, functionally and visually indistinguishable from a human man.""Yup," said Jackie, moving to leave."Jackie?"She turned back a moment. "Yes?""Is the station too cold for your comfort?" His eyes brows, cream and near-invisible, were arched in concern.Jackie squinted, raised an eyebrow. "No. It's fine.""Good. And, do make sure to have the appropriate post-stasis ration packs. I have concerns your flight here has left you low on muscle mass."Jackie turned away. "Yeah."She opened the hatch to her quarters, shut it with a huff. One protein pack later, she had stripped off her jumpsuit, dead asleep.Hours later, Jackie woke to a crimson nebulaic glow. She floated, bleary, in the microgravity webbing. The vibrating hum of the spin-rotors had died. Now, there was merely silence. Dully, Jackie moved to turn over under the webbing. As her thighs shifted, she felt a tingling wetness from some dream she couldn't remember. Idly, half asleep, she let a fingertip creep down her belly, trace over the soaked groin of her shorts, begin to prod, massage. She hummed, rubbed her cheek into the netting.Nearby, a hatch creaked open. Jackie jerked awake, hang back her hand, froze."Ready to get to work, Specialist Jackie?"Jackie groaned. "Yup," she said. Sam nodded, smiled, retreated into the comms room. The hatch clacked shut.Only after clambering out of the sleep webbing did Jackie realize her floating tits had been in full view. The Corporation had some odd opinions about bras in space. Jackie shook her head. "Chill, girl. Robot doesn't care."The proceeding five hours were a floating blur. Jackie stood in the comms room, directed ship after ship in non-collision courses around the nebula. The job was a steep and constant series of calls and responses to incoming and waiting craft. Sam assisted."Astroliner 313, after well veer, climb straight ahead five degrees Kepler. Thank you.""Jackie, we have a Corsican military craft requesting expedited access," said Sam."Tell him to follow the greens and stand by for expedite.""EES Pearl River is expressing a complaint.""Send them the docs. They can deal with the Company." She changed channels. "Yes, Arrowtine Sirius, you have permission to take route bravo in five. Thank you.""Jackie, I'm directing Designate 476 to hold. Their cargo requires maximum berth.""Thanks, Sam."Sam smiled thinly at her. He had started doing that more often. His eyes stayed crinkled kindly, when he did. Jackie kept watching him.Abruptly, Sam frowned. "Jackie, we have an error.""What?""New connections are timing out. We have a receiver down from d

Are you truly aware of the addictions shaping your daily life? Dr. Stephan Neff joins Lesley Logan to explore the hidden addictions we all face, from social media scrolling to workaholism, and how they impact our emotions, identity, and self-worth. In this raw and insightful conversation, Stephan shares his personal journey of addiction recovery, trauma healing, and radical self-compassion. Learn practical steps to regulate emotions, embrace grief, and redefine your identity beyond societal labels.If you have any questions about this episode or want to get some of the resources we mentioned, head over to LesleyLogan.co/podcast. If you have any comments or questions about the Be It pod shoot us a message at beit@lesleylogan.co. And as always, if you're enjoying the show please share it with someone who you think would enjoy it as well. It is your continued support that will help us continue to help others. Thank you so much! Never miss another show by subscribing at LesleyLogan.co/subscribe.In this episode you will learn about:The hidden addictions we all face and their impact on emotional well-being.The challenges of identity loss after major life changes and the journey to rediscovering self-worth.The importance of grief, how it manifests beyond loss, and why allowing yourself to feel is essential for healing.Practical self-compassion techniques to reframe negative thoughts.How taking intentional action and creating a clear vision can transform challenges into opportunities for growth. Episode References/Links:Stephan Neff Website - https://www.neffinspiration.comSteps to Sobriety by Stephan Neff - https://a.co/d/hHY4w9PDepression Lied To Me by Stephan Neff - https://a.co/d/7s6Ddg0Neff Inspiration Podcast - https://stephanneff.podbean.comStephan Neff YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/@neffinspirationStephan Neff Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/neffinspirationStephan Neff Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/neffinspirationStephan Neff LinkedIn - https://beitpod.com/neffonlinkedinEsmee The Mindful Mouse - https://neffinspiration.com/booksGuest Bio:Stephan Neff is an anaesthetist, bestselling author, speaker and show host. After studying medicine in Heidelberg, Germany he travelled and worked in Europe and Australia before settling down with his family in beautiful New Zealand. As a pain physician, he developed a specific insight into human psychology. As a man trying to drown his sorrows, he found out the hard way that the critters can swim. But over the last ten years, he made every day a little bit better than yesterday. When he became intrigued about epigenetics, he started training in functional medicine. Once he experienced the power of breathwork he became a breath coach. Not willing to accept getting stiffer with age he became a flexibility coach. His desire to impact humans led him to become a life coach and hypnotherapist. He strongly believes that the past does not equal the future. By taking action in a consistent way, we can experience transformations beyond our wildest dreams. He shares this passion through his podcast and YouTube channel, and through social media (Stephan Neff / Neff Inspiration) There is so much more to Stephan than sobriety. Nevertheless, in his book “Steps to Sobriety” he shares the lessons he has learned as a doctor and as a man. Every addict can turn his life around, one little decision at a time. His books and his show explain how to do it. If you enjoyed this episode, make sure and give us a five star rating and leave us a review on iTunes, Podcast Addict, Podchaser or Castbox.DEALS! DEALS! DEALS! DEALS!Check out all our Preferred Vendors & Special Deals from Clair Sparrow, Sensate, Lyfefuel BeeKeeper's Naturals, Sauna Space, HigherDose, AG1 and ToeSoxBe in the know with all the workshops at OPCBe It Till You See It Podcast SurveyBe a part of Lesley's Pilates MentorshipFREE Ditching Busy Webinar Resources:Watch the Be It Till You See It podcast on YouTube!Lesley Logan websiteBe It Till You See It PodcastOnline Pilates Classes by Lesley LoganOnline Pilates Classes by Lesley Logan on YouTubeProfitable Pilates Follow Us on Social Media:InstagramThe Be It Till You See It Podcast YouTube channelFacebookLinkedInThe OPC YouTube Channel Episode Transcript:Stephan Neff 0:00  One in three people have got chemical addictions. One in three. How many people are scrolling for hours on their social media? These are all dopamine quick hits, your likes, your, whatever you post out there. Oh, look at me, I'm looking so good. That's all a heap of B.S. because ultimately, it's nothing else than a form of addiction.Lesley Logan 0:24  Welcome to the Be It Till You See It podcast where we talk about taking messy action, knowing that perfect is boring. I'm Lesley Logan, Pilates instructor and fitness business coach. I've trained thousands of people around the world and the number one thing I see stopping people from achieving anything is self-doubt. My friends, action brings clarity and it's the antidote to fear. Each week, my guest will bring bold, executable, intrinsic and targeted steps that you can use to put yourself first and Be It Till You See It. It's a practice, not a perfect. Let's get started.Lesley Logan 1:07  All right, loves, I'm so excited for today's episode. We had so much to talk about, so I'm gonna make this intro super quick and grab a pen, paper, because there are so many little nuggets of like, oh, I need to do that. Oh, I need to do that. And I think you'll really like it. So Stephan Neff is our guest toda. We are going to talk about all the ups and downs, trials, tribulations of losing a job, losing a marriage, changing your life, and then also, I just love when I ask people what they're excited about right now, because they can learn so much more, and truly, so many, be it action items in here for you. There's something for everyone. So, here you go. Lesley Logan 1:39  All right, Be It babe. I'm really excited that I get to have another conversation with our guest today. I've been on his amazing podcast, and now he's going to be here on mine. Stephan Neff, can you tell everyone who you are and what you rock at? Stephan Neff 1:49  Oh, thank you very much, Lesley, for giving me the privilege and the honor to be a guest on your show. I'm Stephan, I'm anesthetist. I'm a functional medicine specialist. I'm also a life coach. I'm a yoga instructor. I've got all kind of hats, like hypnotherapy and I've studied that. So I am addicted to becoming the best version of myself, and I've had many opportunities in my life to make choices that were not so great with hindsight, so I had more trauma than I would wish on my worst enemy, and in turn, I have investigated the effects of alcohol, of renzodiazepines, of sex, of a lot of coping mechanisms, food, for that matter. So workaholics, see, the moment I start talking, the more holics are coming to my mind. Because it's not just one escape mechanism. It's not just one thing that you try, you so dabble in many things. I was lucky because being in Germany, England, New Zealand, I was not exposed to various epidemics the United States have seen, and I was never really tempted by harder drugs that whatever, whoever is guiding here this game, they guided me away from those things. And for that, I need to be really, really grateful. However, I became a master escape artist with all the other things. And unfortunately, yes, they work for a little while, because they take away your pain, but ultimately they catch up with you and these demons, they are riding you deep inside. And again, I have been in situations which allowed me to grow so in other words, about 1011, years ago, I ended up in rehab that stopped my alcohol, and that was one of the best things that could have happened to me. Now, at the time, I was certainly not agreeing with that statement, but nowadays, I strongly believe every 18-year-old needed to be in rehab for a month. I think I would make that mandatory on actually, even before you go into college, even before, a 15-year-old, that's probably a better time to actually just learn about your emotions, learn about your feelings, learn about.Lesley Logan 4:24  What if there's a summer camp for emotions like, what if that's what everyone had to do at 15? I'm in. I think so, too, because it's true. I think most of the different addictions that we have are because we are unsure how to regulate or understand the emotions we're feeling, or we were not allowed to feel them, and so we don't know how to feel them, and so we figure out a different way to not feel. Workaholics get away with that addiction because, you know, except that they're annoying to their family, and their family's never to see them. It doesn't seem to be harmful. In air quotes. So unfortunately, the people who have. The addictions to alcohol and drugs, we look down on that like, oh, my God, how could they have let themselves get involved in those things? Stephan Neff 5:06  Which is ludicrous, Lesley, if you think about it, one in three people have got chemical addictions. One in three. How many people are scrolling for hours on their social media? These are all dopamine quick hits, your likes, your whatever you post out there. Oh, look at me. I'm looking so good. That's all a heap of B.S. because ultimately, it's nothing else than a form of addiction. Lesley Logan 5:33  Well, and it's also so hard because everything out there, there are lots of people who are helping your addiction along. So, you know, I mean, in the States, recently, we've heard about who was arrested in the Matthew Perry loss. And yes, he is addicted, and yes, he's the person who's like, doing the drugs and having been to multiple rehabs, and all these things, but the people around him that facilitated that addiction to continue, you know, and I'm not saying that if you'd switch people like that wouldn't happen with other people, but with your social media scrolling, they make sure you stay on. There's all these different things. And so I love the idea of a 15-year-old or an 18-year-old. My goodness, every so many years it's like we have to go do a CPR test every two years. Maybe you also have to just do a little check in on how are you regulating your emotions? Are you doing that? Because there's going to be times in your life where it's not going to go well, and you could be the best regulator in the world that need help. Stephan Neff 6:30  And but that is a privilege, and that is a something. I mean, gratitude is nowadays playing so much a role in my life due to the many traumas and the lessons I had to learn the hard way, and I'm very grateful for them nowadays, and you're so right, things don't end up in all peachy sort of Hollywood ending. It does not. I'm 58. Now, physically, emotionally, spiritually. I'm stronger than I have ever been in the last 30 years, probably emotionally, spiritually than ever in my life. Now, in reality, I have lost my job as an anesthetist. I'm going through a not nice divorce. My children have moved on in their own lives, and they are now overseas, far away, so I'm not getting the good old center support that maybe I deserve, want, need, and so there is a hard time here. But if there's one thing that I have had to learn, that I had the privilege to learn, is that there is a sense behind that suffering, and Viktor Frankl and many other far more clever people than me, before me have expressed that, and it is so hard, it sounds like a cliche. It sounds like something weird, but ultimately, it is a skill, just as much as you have a skill of maybe playing an instrument or going to the gym, being able to lift a certain amount of weight in a certain style, these are all skills that you have acquired. Now, I have acquired many of these skills, but also I have had to acquire some very powerful skills that allow me to regulate my emotions in a beautiful way. Indeed, going through the divorce and losing my job, losing my identity. I mean, I, who are you? I'm Dr. Neff von Stephan. I'm an anesthetist in blah, blah, there and there, well, take all that away. Who are you left with? And many men don't know that answer. They never ask themselves these answers until maybe trauma, physical trauma, stops them being the master carpenter or the mechanic or whatever they identify themselves. I've had so many soldiers on my show who were top alpha predators, and then were on the receiving end of a machine gun. And then, surprise, surprise, their body was no longer alpha. Theirs was not even omega. It was a heap of minced meat. And then, who are they? Lesley Logan 9:16  Who are you? Yeah. Stephan Neff 9:17  And so many men and women suffer from that, and I had the privilege of repeated traumas that forced me to ask those questions and come up with answers, solutions and the right steps forward.Lesley Logan 9:32  Yeah, many years ago, someone said you can't take someone's rock bottom away, right? And because you're trying to help people, and sometimes we're trying to help people. Of course, we should all be helpful, but sometimes people go into their own detriment trying to help someone, trying to make someone better, or see the light or take something away, and it's like some of those rock bottoms are exactly the thing they need to go through so they can learn who they are, so they can handle the next thing. Because I'm sorry to hear about all of those things. It sounds like there is like one and then a space between, and then another. And it sounds like because of one, you might be able to actually handle the next one. Like the divorce is awful, but because you learned how to regulate and feel your emotions and talk about who you are and go through those things, was that helpful when the divorce happened? Or am I, were they all at one time?Stephan Neff 10:22  No, sometimes you wonder if the gods out there in the pantheon are just sitting there and thinking, Stephan, he's doing far too well. What shall we throw at him? And then everyone pikes up. Ah, monkey pox. No, no, no. Divorce. Around with the children. They say, you know what we do, all of them at the same time. Yeah, see how it copes.Lesley Logan 10:43  Oh, my God. Are you watching, I don't know if you have it in New Zealand, there is a show on Netflix called Chaos. It's about the gods. If you can get it, it is worthwhile, because that is exactly what they're doing.Stephan Neff 11:01  I'm sure some writer had a dream about me, and thought, oh, I we're gonna make that show. I want some royalties here. Lesley Logan 11:09  Yeah, yeah.Stephan Neff 11:10  But there's this, shit will happen, and I ended up in quite a dark space over the end of last year and start of this year, and when I did some courses which forced me to live with my emotions, some radical compassion courses, things like that, where I had to learn how to really live with my emotions, not just run away from them, but actually be there, feel them, pour oil onto the fire and be there, feel it, and then afterwards, learn how to calm down and learn how to nurture myself. It was so beautiful. It was one of the hardest courses I've ever done, but that was what allowed me to be here and speak to you today. Many a times, when I thought, well, is my life really worthwhile? I'm fat, ugly, I'm a failure. You know, all these kind of I ams that are coming up, these voices? Now, fact is, we all have got about 80,000 thereabouts thoughts every day. Of these 80,000 about 80% are negative, and mine had a volume cranked up to max. Now we all have them, and that is a problem, because this is all a heap of B.S. that your body is telling you, either focusing far too much onto the history which is gone. You should learn from your mistakes. You should learn from history to prevent making the same mistakes again. You could talk now into politics big time in your country, but we won't go there. Stephan Neff 11:11  Stephan, trust me, every day, I'm like these people need to fucking read a history book. What is happening here? But here's the deal. Then we have talked about education in this country, and that's another mountain to climb, so.Stephan Neff 12:59  Exactly. I think the same applies for us as human beings. Never forget where you came from. Never forget the lessons from the past, but do not relive the hardships or the sadness, unless you need a relief valve. I, oh my God, end of last year, I went to a counselor, just because, you know, that's really the clever thing to do, because these people sort of can see what you're saying, can listen to you, and can also listen to what you're not saying.Lesley Logan 13:41  Yeah, they're talented. So great.Stephan Neff 13:46  So I had this wonderful woman, which I knew. So I said, like, you know that's what I'm going through. And she said, wow, okay, so how is your loss and grief? I said, which loss and grief? I didn't lose anyone? And she just looked at me, you just lost your wife of 27 years. I thought, huh, okay. And so there was a loss and grief, but I never allowed myself to feel that, and it was interesting for me that a song recently triggered me, and that was absolutely amazing, because that song allowed me suddenly to cry, to really sob, snot, tears, you know, you name it, it came out, but it took me the better part of what, eight months, what is it now? September. That was only really in August. So we're talking 10 months, really, in which I was the stoic survivor, in which I did what I had to do. And that's one of the key things. You have to take action in order to live your life. And the harder it gets, the more action you have to take. So I did all the right things, but I neglected that one emotion, and when it finally came out, it was so beautiful. It was so beautiful to cry. It was so beautiful to feel whole again, because, yes, I can journal every day and write down the things that give me the highest anxiety, and take them off immediately, those things that I take for granted that becomes my win list. So I'm actually writing down pretty minuscule things, but these are all things that maybe previously I would have procrastinated about, etc. And here, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, and I write win, little wins next to it. And if I achieve something really big, which I didn't think big win. So I do all that. Yet, whilst I took the right action, there was still so many things that needed to be addressed, and there was this emotion, and it was there. It's beautiful. Lesley Logan 15:57  I think I love that you're sharing, because it's so easy. I got my tools, I'm doing my things, I'm doing the work, I'm, whatever the work is for you, but I'm not surprised that grief was an emotion you weren't letting yourself feel because it's not an emotion any of us are taught how to deal with. We don't handle grief well, and there's not a model for it, right? If you don't lose someone or have grief when you're a child and it's not modeled correctly, we don't really know. We don't really see how to do that. And then if you see a parent or person who handles grief terribly, they get angry, they bottle it up, they don't process it, then you learn you can't even, you can't express it. And then most people, what do they say? Oh, you'll feel better in time. There's not a lot of great examples of feeling grief, and we also think grief only comes if we lose like a family member. We are not realizing, you lose your job, that's grief, Stephan, because you're grieving what the future that you thought about was, what did you think that was? Like, we moved to Las Vegas, and that was a beautiful, exciting goal that we had, but also it came so suddenly and when it happened during the pandemic that I remember working with my therapist about grieving my L.A. life, not because I wasn't happy in Vegas, but just the day to day that made me feel like me was gone and I had to start over. And your brain, the way grief works, expecting this thing. Oh, I went for a run to the next, Oh, there's no Starbucks here. Even though that sounds silly, that was, part of my day was saying hi to the same five people, seen running with my best friend. There's a grief there. And I think we don't allow ourselves to grieve what could have been when situations don't go well, and we think it makes us something weak, or makes us feel like we're stuck on the path. And really it's giving that space, and going back to the Greeks, like letting that float down the river, like giving it a celebration, right? I think that that is a huge step. It's something that I'm really, and I'm really, I don't know, I'm really stuck on this in this moment.Stephan Neff 17:52  And I guess there's a message there for you, because obviously I've triggered you. And hopefully after the show, you can reflect on that, and can actually see, ah, okay, what's waiting now to be released, what opening is coming up for me to learn something new about me, because that's really the chance that we have got every single day, and we squander so many of these chances we take our life for granted. Two years ago, my life well, from the outside, I was at a pinnacle. You know, I was I made an very, very beautiful income. I had a big house, I had a pool, I had a wife, I had two kids. From outside, hey, you know, on the inside, I was not a happy man, but it was so grumbling and so chronic that I didn't see how unsatisfied my needs were as a man in my marriage, and the same is probably to be said for my wife, her needs were not met and we were unable to express our respective love languages we wouldn't have known them if they would have bitten us in the ass. It is those kind of things, you know. It is those kind of things that ultimately make you unhappy, make you unsatisfied. You're searching for this mission, you're certain, searching for this purpose in your life that you have not yet found. And I think by going through trauma and being forced to change, you get outside of your comfort zone, you experience fear. And if you look at any successful, truly successful person who's got their shit together, then you will see that they have gone through tremendous amounts of trauma, through tremendous amounts of heartbreak, that in their business, they have failed and were sometimes completely, how do you call it in America where everything is taken away from you? You lose your house, you lose your.Lesley Logan 20:01  Bankruptcy, yes, yes, yes. Stephan Neff 20:03  Yes, exactly. Ultimately, many men and women have gone through such scenarios, but those who are successful are those people who have learned and are willing to learn from such trauma. I call it trauma. Trauma is sometimes a word that is. Lesley Logan 20:21  I think there's little T and there's big T, and I also think it's fine they've gone through some sort of like life experience that has flipped them things upside down. Look at Oprah. We forget what her life was like. We forget who she was before she was Oprah. And so you're completely right. And I guess our life is always evolving. And I think your life is a perfect example of it's not like life's a roller coaster, but it's like an ebb and flow. There's like, these highs, these lows, and what we do with the lows to get to the highs really matters. And how we, actually, it sounds like you educate yourself in a low so that you can, like you go through these highs. But now, with this new life change, like, how do you find yourself being it till you see it to the person you want to be on the other side of all this, what are the tools you're using, or what are the or how are you figuring it out as we go?Stephan Neff 21:06  Righty-ho, so over the next three hours where let's talk about. No, no. I give you, I show you one tool, actually, that I've used very, very frequently in the recent months. And it is actually very easy to do. It comes in various versions, but I use my right hand and put it on the dead shoulder. That hand onto that shoulder. I squeeze as hard as I can and say, Stephan, I love you. You're a good man. You're going through shit. I absolutely love you to bits. You are strong. You are a good man. Shit is happening, but you're a good man. Don't forget that. And I do that for 15, 20 seconds, and I'm renowned for my bear hugs to those people who I love, and you never show this love that you show others to yourself. You're a mean bastard to yourself. You speak to yourself in a way that you wouldn't speak to your worst enemy. And I force myself to actually love myself. Warts and all. And I think that sometimes gives me that hug, gives me that release, gives me that reassurance, where I am getting stronger and I feel the panic and the anxiety running away. We already spoke about writing things down. What I shared with you was the win list, because we always look at our failures. We never look at our wins. And I want to celebrate every win. In order to do so, I need to celebrate every chance I get. In order to do that, I need to celebrate being here. I need to be celebrating that I'm here in this moment. I'm not distracting myself, I'm not escaping. I'm living this moment and I live it with joy. I live it I'm here with you, 100% intentional, and I enjoy every second have I had in the past a fear of public speaking? Hell, yes. Are we talking about some quite, you know, not things that I'm not so happy and proud about, and now I'm sharing it with a few thousand, 10,000 million viewers. Well, okay, talk about that. Do you think me showing up is a win? Well, 80% of success is showing up. Me, actually, jumping over my fear and actually just being here, exposing myself to my fear of public, speaking of whatever it is, and suddenly realizing, actually, you know, I'm not eaten up by some magic force or some saber tooth tiger has killed me, although my body inside and all the responses of fight and flight coming onto this show, but now it is those kind of things, so the gratitude and the realization that this is a privilege that you are living. Yes, it's a shitty day here. Look outside. It's raining. Damn. Many of my friends are no longer here, but due to disease or trauma or violent deaths, well, you know, it's a privilege to be here, so be grateful and practice that. And you need to just, you actually need to do that. Practice it, because it doesn't come naturally to many of us. Lesley Logan 24:47  Right, right. Stephan Neff 24:48  So practice those things. And then the most important bit is finally stop for a moment and actually try to figure out who you want to be when you grow up. Create that dream in your mind, and dream means leery, flary things that are going on in your head. So if you say, okay, I am 58 now, and I haven't found true love in my life. So if I say, okay, I want to find true love. Well, that's nice. You can think of Valentine hearts, or you can say, what does that actually look like? Okay, there is, there needs to be a partner. This partner probably needs to understand my needs. Or for that, I need to be able to learn how to communicate my needs, but then I need to understand what are my needs? There's a bit of work waiting here to actually figure out what is your dream. Now, that dream, it's nebulous. Please change your dream to a vision by becoming very, very, very clear. So I want to have this dream partner. Okay, how does she need to look like? Well, maybe not the best question that you want to ask, because she might come in a very different package, but it has, it's everything that you need. So maybe a different question might be, which features should she have, which emotions, which style, what makes her burst into laughter and in turn infect you with joy? And then you have to figure out, okay, what affects you or infects you with joy. So what is your joy? So it's those kind of things. So once you've nailed it down, go to the next feature, to the next feature, until you dream that nebulism something has become a very clear vision. And now you need to take action. And that is the cool thing, but not action on that. Don't take someone and try to somehow mold that someone. No, take action on the input and say, okay, I want this loving relationship. So what would I do now? Right now? What ideas, five ideas that would make this relationship with this person a better thing. What input can I put there? What does she need? She needs to be supported. Okay. And how does that work? She needs to know that I will not run away. Well, fair call. Let's do something on that. Or she always feels alone that she is doing all the work in the house. Fine. Let me put that rubbish out, let me paint that corner, let me fix that part of the house, whatever it is. I can control the input. I can't control the output. I can't control the end result, but I can show up and do my best, and that is a beautiful skill. Lesley Logan 27:44  I really love your way of being it till you see it. It's like we always work backwards here. We love that, so that's great. But I also loved how it turned into like, the things you're looking for, you have to know more about yourself so that you can spot it when you got it, because people can't read your mind, and you could say, I want a supportive partner, and then you meet someone whose idea of supporting is financial, but what you really meant was emotional. Well, it doesn't matter. I need to be supportive. I am supporting you, and it's because words matter and we need to be specific. So I think that there's just so many different ways. We just had a coaching call with our group, and this girl wants to open a studio. She's like, where do I start? And I was like, well, what kind of studio do you want? What does that look like? What's happening in the studio? How busy is it? Is our teachers there, like, I can't tell you how to open a studio if I don't know what we're opening because then it's like, you go get a building, you get a lawyer. First of all, it's not inspiring. Second of all, what order of those steps is going to change based on all the things you have to know, what it is that you're wanting to open for us to go with the first action step. So I really, really think that that is so cool. What are you most excited about right now? Stephan Neff 28:57  Well, my house is going on the market, and this house, this town, has a lot of memories, many of them beautiful, many of them not so. So, by all I know, in four days time the house is sold, and then what will happen? And I've got a Toyota Estima, sort of a gray people-mover, kind of soccer mom kind of thing. I've turned that into a Batmobile. So I've ripped out the interior. I've turned that into a stealth camper, into basically an RV. Lesley Logan 29:30  So cool.Stephan Neff 29:32  That was quite a cool thing, something, you know, I'm 58 and I'm a doctor, for crying out loud. I focused my skills on a very different skill set by my experience in different skill sets, not necessarily DIY, not necessarily building. So I had to learn auto electronics and how the car works on the inside, etc. So I did that. So that was cool. I was really enjoying finding things that give me joy. And it was a surprising journey, because. You, those things that gave me joy in the past were no longer as beautiful, and I found new ways of creativity, new ways of looking forward to projects that maybe will increase my wealth again. Any divorce is hugely detrimental to anything. So there's a good reason that I changed my house to a car to actually just recover financially, but that is all part and parcel. So here we are. There are those people who have forever dreamt of the RV lifestyle, of downsizing, of those kind of things. I'm forced to do it, but I choose not to look at it as being forced, but I choose it as an opportunity to see that beautiful New Zealand and actually build up my private practice in functional medicine and. Lesley Logan 30:50  Have you been to Gisborne? Stephan Neff 30:52  Yes, I have. Yes. Lesley Logan 30:53  So that's the first light of day. I feel like you have to go there in your RV. If you do, we have a lovely friend there who likes to serve.Stephan Neff 31:02  Like Gisborne, Napier, there are so many beautiful places here. So I'm looking forward to doing that and in the process of finding myself, of finding out more about me, focusing more on one thing. This, the journey of divorce and getting rid of a house is incredibly disruptive to all your creative things. I was lucky because I was putting all my creativity in designing a very tiny home, and it was beautiful. But now it's time to bring that creativity to the next project. May it be, well, part of it probably will be somewhere, a rundown house that I will renovate and bring up just to a really lovely standard. Lesley Logan 31:46  You know, when you live in it, because we, we live in our van from time to time, and we lived in a tiny apartment before our house. Our van is not finished by any stretch of the imagination. I'm glad we didn't, because we would have made changes. And so what I think is really fun for you is the next house you get, even if it's small, you will, based on what you like and don't like in your RV life, you will make changes so that your home has the things you want at the home versus what you have. So then you'll have two homes, and you'll have one you can travel like it's mobile, and then you'll have one that's a sanctuary. I think it's so cool. Yeah. Stephan Neff 32:09  So, so, instead of saying I've lost my house now, I've lost my life, I have gained freedom. I have gained a new way of life that probably injects quite a bit of you back into me. I have the opportunity to explore new things. For example, I love juggling. I love spitting fires, so I studied circus arts when I was a younger man. Lesley Logan 32:46  That's so funny. That's not what I thought you were gonna say.Stephan Neff 32:49  But I know that there's a group of jugglers around New Zealand. They meet, typically on the full moon, on the beach somewhere, and have fire and juggle and things like that. And I always thought, oh, wouldn't that be cool? Then it was always the I need to work next day, and I'm busy and there's all that. Well now I have got that freedom to actually do that. Get back into it. Well, I haven't juggled for quarter of a century. I'm sure I will find it again, and I'm sure I will find new ways of finding joy. In finding those new ways, it is likely that I come across people who really infuse me. And who knows, there might be true love waiting there, true love in whatever form and shape it comes. These are all gifts that have come out of trauma, just as much as I have become the phoenix rising out of the ashes again and again over my lifetime. I just didn't expect it that I'll do it with 58 again. But hey, you do what. A man has got to do what a man has got to do. But I take it as a challenge. I take it as an opportunity as, I take it as a positive thing, and that is the only thing, the only true thing that works when it comes to the challenges in life, that you are able to find the meaning, a purpose, a sense in your suffering, that you accept what is happening, that you practice radical self-compassion, that you take ownership when it is due, that you learn to analyze when someone maybe was gaslighting you or was bullshitting you, or the whole kind of messages subliminal that you had been fed, maybe throughout your life, that you're actually able to start analyzing them and say, well, that's actually a heap of B.S. but that is actually not true. I'm not a failure. You know, for 50 something years, I thought I'm a failure. That's my rundown. Now, it helped me to focus and work harder. But to actually say, actually, no, I'm not a failure. I'm resilient, I'm resourceful, I am a survivor, I'm a thriver. I am lovable, I am worthy to learn. I wrote on my website, I wrote an article about the Power of I Am, and it's so important that we use that power, because it's the shortcut to your subconscious. So instead of being the bearded lady in the circus, why don't you start becoming the ring master and actually decide what is happening in your show, in your circus. Okay, you can actually control your thoughts. You can be far more mindful as far as what is happening up there, and that will make you stronger, that will make you a better human. And in turn, you will attract better humans. Inadvertently, or maybe on purpose, you will seek out a different group of people, not the naysayers, those people who give you good advice, for example, about finances when they are themselves, run down and have nothing. Lesley Logan 36:05  Yes, there's a lot of those around. Yeah.Stephan Neff 36:09  Isn't it? But you're an example, Lesley, you are out there. You have gone through your own trials and tribulation, but you haven't given up. And you keep going. And you keep showing up. You keep showing up on your show. And you're there to help others. You bring others on to infuse you. You open yourself up, in this case, by being very honest, and I was triggering you here on the show. So therefore I know you will grow, like it or lump it, by you showing up and making yourself vulnerable, you grow, and you will become a better version of Lesley than when the show started. How cool is that? I think we all can learn from that, isn't it? Lesley Logan 36:54  Yeah, yeah, oh my gosh. We could keep talking forever, but we're gonna take a brief break, and then we're gonna find out where people can listen to your show and read your books and all the amazing stuff. Lesley Logan 37:05  All right, Stephan, where do you like to hang out? Where can we send everyone if they have been inspired by what you've got? Stephan Neff 37:11  Please head over to neffinspiration.com. Neff, N-E-F-F, it's my surname, inspiration dot com, it's my website. From there, you have got links to my YouTube show. We are close now to 500 guests, and Lesley is one of them. You had some fantastic pearls of wisdom there. It's beautiful. So I'm growing through that show. I have in my creativity, written quite a few books, some of them no longer in print because I felt it's probably not so good. I've recently lost 30 kilogram and some of my books were dangerously good German cheesecakes. So that's a bit inappropriate. I still have that out there. I Lesley Logan 37:59  I mean, it's probably okay if people are addicted to cheesecake.Stephan Neff 38:03  I was always joking that because you bake them for such a long time that you bake all the calories out of them. I don't think that's true. I need to write a new recipe book.Lesley Logan 38:16  Okay, if our listeners hit you up for that cheesecake recipe, you have to give it to them.Stephan Neff 38:21  I can live with that. It's a baked German cheesecake. So it's great quality. It's a great taste. It's a little bit more work. I love it. The free books that can give you the most bang for the buck and the most value, I guess, is Steps to Sobriety. That is a book I've written. It's now coming out next month in its third edition. It is a memoir slash recipe book, How to look at recovery from addiction in a step wise, logical approach, and give you step by step way forward. The steps are essentially the 12 steps from AA, but I've taken the god out. I've taken many of those things out that maybe are a bit more difficult to swallow, and I've put it into a modern language, and have explained why these steps are actually a very good system. How to approach a failing business, for example, and I go into details there. So if you were to help a friend who is in trouble, like you are helping other Pilates teachers to create or maybe become better in their systems, well that's exactly you would actually do exactly the same steps as a 12-step program offers. So I'm using that approach. But then there are so many, so many other things that are typically happening, the trauma, the very predictable things, the depression, the mental health problems that will affect one in three of us. So you might as well learn something about it. When you drive a car, you learn how to change a tire, because sooner or later, you have to. But not one of us ever learns the signs and symptoms of depression or how, what is, what help is out there. So, Steps to S,obriety is really a beautiful mental health book in an overall, over encompassing kind of way. I've had another book out, Depression Lied To Me, in which I had the honor of having 14 female storytellers who were sharing their stories about how depression lied to them. And it's wonderful, because depression, as many other mental health problems, they come in all shapes and forms. They come in all disguises. Yet there are common themes, and yet there are the same kind of bullshit lies that these mental health problems tell us. Let there be addiction, let there be depression, etc. To hear 14 different women talk about their experience has been a very enriching insight for me. And last but not least, I will republish Esmee The Mindful Mouse, because I believe that if we start earlier on in life, if we start creating strong, little humans, it's much easier than repair broken adults. So therefore, why should we not start teaching mindfulness at an early stage? And I've written a beautiful, written and photographed and produced with a friend, a beautiful book about this little mouse who lives in our beautiful redwood forest here, and who is vivacious, but with her vivaciousness also sometimes makes her friends angry, and she needs to find out the difference between, am I a bad mouse, or have I done something bad that has angered someone else? Again coming back to the power of I am and, needless to say, her friends love her for who she is, but she needs to learn that lesson, and you will find links to all those books and more a neffinspiration.com so check it out, guys, but first, please press the like and subscribe button on Lesley's show, because that's so bloody important, because we all grow with algorithms on YouTube and other places, and if you've heard something cool today, hopefully it will enrich your life, but also send it to someone else, and send a link to Lesley show so that they can get better insights and we grow and start becoming this community of growing people.Lesley Logan 42:37  Thank you for that. Please do all of those things everyone. You've given us a bunch already. I feel like, so feel free to repeat something you've said, because I feel like you did. But there are so many gems of like, how we could be it till you see it, but bold, executable, intrinsic or targeted steps, the action someone can take, if they're like, yes, okay, what can they do next? What would you like them to do?Stephan Neff 42:57  Immediately now, I want you to give yourself a hug. I want you to actually give yourself a hug and spend 15 seconds with yourself just after the show is finished, immediately, 15 seconds, if it is safe to do so if you're driving, maybe not, okay? Maybe pull over, okay? But I want you to close your eyes and be with yourself and whatever is happening with you, whatever goes through your mind, whatever is happening, I want you to give yourself a big bear hug and just accept you for who you are, that beautiful human being who is probably going through some shit, because otherwise you wouldn't listen to a show like this. You would be distracted with living this most beautiful, suckering, sweet Coca Cola advertisement life, which, yeah, how about that? Okay, no, I want you to be real, and I want you to show compassion to yourself, because it all starts with that, yeah, just to tell that inner child of you, to tell that that right now, big child that is sitting there or standing there, whoever is around you, just give yourself that big hug, squeeze as hard as you can, and tell yourself, I love you. Lesley Logan 44:17  That's beautiful. Thank you so much. You guys, go give yourself a hug, and then please make sure that you share this with a friend. And if you have takeaways, please tag Stephan. Tag the Be It Pod. We want to hear them. We want to celebrate what you're doing. Y'all, you heard him say wins all the time. We actually have a wins episode that comes out on Fridays where we love to celebrate your wins. You can actually send them in and we read them out loud, so that sometimes when you hear your own win, it's on a day you really need a reminder that you had a win recently, and until next time, Be It Till You See It. Lesley Logan 44:50  That's all I got for this episode of the Be It Till You See It Podcast. One thing that would help both myself and future listeners is for you to rate the show and leave a review and follow or subscribe for free wherever you listen to your podcast. Also, make sure to introduce yourself over at the Be It Pod on Instagram. I would love to know more about you. Share this episode with whoever you think needs to hear it. Help us and others Be It Till You See It. Have an awesome day. Be It Till You See It is a production of The Bloom Podcast Network. If you want to leave us a message or a question that we might read on another episode, you can text us at +1-310-905-5534 or send a DM on Instagram @BeItPod.Brad Crowell 45:33  It's written, filmed, and recorded by your host, Lesley Logan, and me, Brad Crowell.Lesley Logan 45:38  It is transcribed, produced and edited by the epic team at Disenyo.co.Brad Crowell 45:42  Our theme music is by Ali at Apex Production Music and our branding by designer and artist, Gianfranco Cioffi.Lesley Logan 45:49  Special thanks to Melissa Solomon for creating our visuals.Brad Crowell 45:53  Also to Angelina Herico for adding all of our content to our website. And finally to Meridith Root for keeping us all on point and on time.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/be-it-till-you-see-it/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Discounting—it feels like a surefire way to attract customers, right? Everyone loves a good bargain. But what happens when discounts stop being a tool and start becoming an expectation? In this episode, Colin Shaw and Professor Ryan Hamilton dive into the dangerous addiction of price discounting—how it lures in customers, why businesses struggle to stop, and the long-term damage it can do to your brand and bottom line. You'll hear painful stories of businesses that have trained their customers never to pay full price, the psychology behind why discounts are so irresistible, and why, if you're not careful, your company could end up hooked on discounting like a bad habit. This episode is packed with insights, humor, and practical advice you won't want to miss! Best Quote from the Episode: "We knew we had a problem when one of the executives said, ‘This is like heroin—we can't stop!'" Key Takeaways: ✅ Discounting Works—But Be Careful! Customers love a good deal, and discounts create instant excitement. But if you do it too often, you're not just offering savings—you're training customers to expect them. ✅ Reference Points Matter A “Was $7, Now $5” deal feels like a win, even if $5 was always a fair price. Discounts give customers an anchor price, making them feel like they're getting a bargain—even if they're not. ✅ Big Numbers Win People respond more to “SAVE 30%” than “SAVE $2.” The bigger the number, the better the deal seems. ✅ The Thrill of the Hunt Shoppers love feeling like they “won” at shopping.  ✅ The Danger of Training Customers If customers know you'll discount every two weeks, they'll never pay full price again. Some companies become trapped in perpetual discounting cycles, losing profit just to keep customers coming back. ✅ Compete on Value, Not Just Price Apple doesn't run 50% off iPhone sales every Black Friday. Their customers pay full price because they believe in the value. If your business relies on discounts, ask yourself: Would customers still buy from us if we didn't offer them? ✅ Are You a Discount Addict? If discounts are your main strategy, it's time to rethink. Are you making real money, or just moving stock? If the answer makes you nervous, it's time for a change. Why You Should Listen: This episode is a must-listen for business leaders, marketers, and CX professionals who want to break free from the discount trap and build a pricing strategy that doesn't just attract customers—but actually makes money. About the Hosts: Colin Shaw is a LinkedIn 'Top Voice' with a massive 284,000 followers and 86,000 subscribers to his 'Why Customers Buy' newsletter. Shaw is named one of the world's 'Top 150 Business Influencers' by LinkedIn. His company, Beyond Philosophy LLC, has been selected four times by the Financial Times as a top management consultancy. Shaw is co-host of the top 1.5% podcast 'The Intuitive Customer'—with over 600,000 downloads—and author of eight best-sellers on customer experience, Shaw is a sought-after keynote speaker. Follow Colin on LinkedIn. Ryan Hamilton is a Professor of Marketing at Emory University's Goizueta Business School and co-author of 'The Intuitive Customer' book. An award-winning teacher and researcher in consumer psychology, he has been named one of Poets & Quants' "World's Best 40 B-School Profs Under 40." His research focuses on how brands, prices, and choice architecture influence shopper decision-making, and his findings have been published in top academic journals and covered by major media outlets like The New York Times and CNN. His work highlights how psychology can help firms better understand and serve their customers. Ryan has a new book launch in June 2025 called “The Growth Dilemma: Managing Your Brand When Different Customers Want Different Things” Harvard Business Press Follow Ryan on LinkedIn. Subscribe & Follow Apple Podcasts Spotify

Discounting—it feels like a surefire way to attract customers, right? Everyone loves a good bargain. But what happens when discounts stop being a tool and start becoming an expectation? In this episode, Colin Shaw and Professor Ryan Hamilton dive into the dangerous addiction of price discounting—how it lures in customers, why businesses struggle to stop, and the long-term damage it can do to your brand and bottom line. You'll hear painful stories of businesses that have trained their customers never to pay full price, the psychology behind why discounts are so irresistible, and why, if you're not careful, your company could end up hooked on discounting like a bad habit. This episode is packed with insights, humor, and practical advice you won't want to miss! Best Quote from the Episode: "We knew we had a problem when one of the executives said, ‘This is like heroin—we can't stop!'" Key Takeaways: ✅ Discounting Works—But Be Careful! Customers love a good deal, and discounts create instant excitement. But if you do it too often, you're not just offering savings—you're training customers to expect them. ✅ Reference Points Matter A “Was $7, Now $5” deal feels like a win, even if $5 was always a fair price. Discounts give customers an anchor price, making them feel like they're getting a bargain—even if they're not. ✅ Big Numbers Win People respond more to “SAVE 30%” than “SAVE $2.” The bigger the number, the better the deal seems. ✅ The Thrill of the Hunt Shoppers love feeling like they “won” at shopping.  ✅ The Danger of Training Customers If customers know you'll discount every two weeks, they'll never pay full price again. Some companies become trapped in perpetual discounting cycles, losing profit just to keep customers coming back. ✅ Compete on Value, Not Just Price Apple doesn't run 50% off iPhone sales every Black Friday. Their customers pay full price because they believe in the value. If your business relies on discounts, ask yourself: Would customers still buy from us if we didn't offer them? ✅ Are You a Discount Addict? If discounts are your main strategy, it's time to rethink. Are you making real money, or just moving stock? If the answer makes you nervous, it's time for a change. Why You Should Listen: This episode is a must-listen for business leaders, marketers, and CX professionals who want to break free from the discount trap and build a pricing strategy that doesn't just attract customers—but actually makes money. About the Hosts: Colin Shaw is a LinkedIn 'Top Voice' with a massive 284,000 followers and 86,000 subscribers to his 'Why Customers Buy' newsletter. Shaw is named one of the world's 'Top 150 Business Influencers' by LinkedIn. His company, Beyond Philosophy LLC, has been selected four times by the Financial Times as a top management consultancy. Shaw is co-host of the top 1.5% podcast 'The Intuitive Customer'—with over 600,000 downloads—and author of eight best-sellers on customer experience, Shaw is a sought-after keynote speaker. Follow Colin on LinkedIn. Ryan Hamilton is a Professor of Marketing at Emory University's Goizueta Business School and co-author of 'The Intuitive Customer' book. An award-winning teacher and researcher in consumer psychology, he has been named one of Poets & Quants' "World's Best 40 B-School Profs Under 40." His research focuses on how brands, prices, and choice architecture influence shopper decision-making, and his findings have been published in top academic journals and covered by major media outlets like The New York Times and CNN. His work highlights how psychology can help firms better understand and serve their customers. Ryan has a new book launch in June 2025 called “The Growth Dilemma: Managing Your Brand When Different Customers Want Different Things” Harvard Business Press Follow Ryan on LinkedIn. Subscribe & Follow Apple Podcasts Spotify

Seth and Sean discuss Hard Knocks Offseason likely getting canceled after a struggle to find teams who want to do the show. Is this because the show made the Giants' front office look like idiots?

*Sorry about Nate's echo the first ~35 minutes, we did fix it after that. TikTok Bans, Meta Changes, and Little Red Book? The social media news has been fast and furious lately. We try to get caught up on it if that is even possible. Plus, with CES out of the way, there's plenty of other tech news to get caught up on. All so you can get out there and tech better! Watch on YouTube! INTRO (00:00) MAIN TOPIC: Social Media Madness (03:10) TikTok “Ban” - CapCut - Marvel Snap Conspiracies - Migration to Meta Servers, TikTok is CIA psyop Little Red Book Meta Community Notes Instagram 3 minute reels Meta announces a new CapCut rival called Edits X and Bluesky launch dedicated video feeds on the back of TikTok uncertainty Bluesky is getting its own photo-sharing app, Flashes DAVE'S PRO-TIP OF THE WEEK:  Hair conditioner as lotion, empty your pockets in the TSA line, use your horn. (25:30) JUST THE HEADLINES: (32:25) China to host world's first human-robot marathon Donald and Melania Trump launch a pair of meme coins China to build thorium molten-salt reactor in 2025 Intel suffers worst year since 1971 IPO Sonos CEO steps down following disastrous app redesign Instagram begins randomly showing users ai-generated images of themselves AI beats human experts at distinguishing American whiskey from Scotch TAKES: Apple Promotes Severance Season 2 with Lumon Industries pop up at Grand Central Terminal (37:40) Nintendo launches Switch 2 Trailer (41:00) Watch Duty, the crucial wildfire tracking app (45:25) How U.S. Forces and NASA could Inadvertently be Spying for China (47:55) Trump pardons, Ross Ulbricht, creator of Silk Road (53:55) BONUS ODD TAKE: Infinite Craft by Neal iOS app - Episode 426: Vision Quest Pro (55:10) PICKS OF THE WEEK: Dave: Insta360 Go 3S (57:25) Nate: TikTok - Crown Qu Selfie Stick Tripod (01:02:19) RAMAZON PURCHASE - Giveaway! (01:05:00)

We all want our kids with anxiety or OCD to believe in themselves. We want them to try hard things. We want them to push through their fears. But we only have so much control on how motivated they are to do those things to help themselves.We do, however, have control over how we show up to our child's battle with anxiety or OCD. When we over accommodate, over enable and cocoon our kids from all discomfort and failure, we rob them of the opportunity to develop resilience.It is a balancing act and it looks different for each child.In this week's episode of the AT Parenting Survival Podcast I talk about how to find the sweet spot of empowering our kids to face their anxiety or OCD, while not pushing them over the edge.

In episode two of our Case Studies season, Just Science sat down with Tim Fayle, Training Capability Lead for IDEMIA Australasia and Chair of the International Association for Identification's Latent Print Certification Board, to discuss the utility of friction ridge detail inadvertently captured via photographs as a valuable and potentially underutilized type of evidence within a variety of case types. While the use of latent fingerprints recovered from crime scenes has been established as an important type of forensic evidence for decades, the increasingly widespread use of social media and other digital platforms has contributed to even more opportunities to garner friction ridge detail evidence following a crime. Practitioners and researchers alike have demonstrated the value of utilizing photographs presenting inadvertently captured finger and palm friction ridge detail – obtained via social media posts, other digital forums, and cellphone data – to identify perpetrators and help bring justice to victims. Listen along as Tim describes several cases where inadvertently photographed friction ridge detail was utilized to make an identification to a perpetrator, the various methods and techniques latent print examiners can add to their toolkit to analyze and compare this type of friction ridge detail, and his recommendations for ensuring this type of evidence is not overlooked or underutilized within future cases. This episode is funded by the National Institute of Justice's Forensic Technology Center of Excellence (Award No. 15PNIJ-21-GK-02192-MUMU).

Will and Russ discuss how Ukraine's increased leverage thanks to Biden's 11th hour move makes Trump's job easier.

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

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If you can't figure out why women seem to get turned off by you even though you're a super nice guy -- this episode is for you! We cover how to know if you're inadvertently creeping out women or turning them off no matter how great a guy you are (and 99% of the people with this issue are cis-gendered hetero men). We'll talk about why that can happen, why it's not your fault (but is something only you can fix), how to stop it, and what's up if you're on other end (meaning that you get creeped out or turned off even by wonderful, kind men). Learn more about me, get a FREE GUIDE to FINDING YOUR DEEPEST TURN-ONS, inquire about coaching, and learn how to get help with relationships and intimacy at https://laurajurgens.com. Get a transcript of this episode by going to https://sexhelpforsmartpeople.buzzsprout.com/ Click on the episode, then choose the transcript tab.

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