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Have feedback or a topic you want to hear about, let us know by sending us a direct message!Welcome back to another episode of The Karwell Chronicles! In this episode, we dive into the chaotic world of property management, unexpected repairs, and the challenges of running a business in a small town. Join us as we share our personal experiences, from dealing with a major HVAC overhaul to navigating the complexities of local regulations. We also discuss the importance of community connections and how they can make or break your entrepreneurial journey. Whether you're a seasoned investor or just starting out, there's something here for everyone!A huge shoutout to our sponsor, Minoan! If you're running a short-term rental, Minoan makes it easy to furnish and restock your space with stylish pieces at up to 60% off. Check them out for a game-changing experience in your rental business! Click the link below!https://minoan.com/karwells-podcast-2025Timestamps:000:01:02 - Life Update: The Chaos of Property Management  00:02:29 - Bittersweet Decisions: Listing the Lilypad for Sale  00:03:58 - A Full Circle Moment: The Grandson's Connection  00:05:41 - Guest Mishaps: The Crazy Things That Happen  00:08:07 - Wild Airbnb Stories: Cooking Meth in a Rental  00:10:46 - The Struggles of Cleaners: Balancing Expectations  00:12:23 - The Stress of Guest Communication  00:36:43 - Minoan Ad: Transform Your Space with Minoan  00:49:22 - Navigating Property Drama: The Never-Ending Challenges  Don't forget to like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell for more insights and stories from our entrepreneurial journey!Hosted by Emily Karnaz & Sarah Glidewell // The KarWells You can view the video & audio version on our Youtube Channel Thanks for listening!

The first Ishara open  House Challenge .Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Odd Happenings{8:58 am, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd ~ 5 Days to go; the Final Salvo ~ at this time}I had deposited my Mother in the place I felt was safest for her   with OT (Oyuun T m rbaatar) at the Kazakhstan's UN mission. Her being my family was what mattered to them most. I picked her up on my way to work, which made my entrance into the lobby all that much more cataclysmic.I was traveling light with only Wiesława Živa providing me with security. Chaz, Pamela and Juanita were catching up with their sleep, with a promise of taking me out for a late lunch. That was really them telling me to not leave JIKIT until they came for me around 2:00 pm.So anyway, me, Mom and Wiesława walked into the ground floor of the Mil Ma Towers to find eleven people waiting on us. We were in downtown Manhattan in a part of town the NYPD paid particular attention to. What could go wrong, right? Two of the people were Amazons from Havenstone. With them were two fine young men from the US 'don't make me kill you' Department. By this time in my life I was sure they had one   which no one talked about.Five of my expectant visitors were of the same mold as those who protected Hana for me. Not the Ghost Tigers   that would have put me at ease. Sure, they were a gang of assassin and in this circumstance; I would have preferred them. As it was, ten sets of highly-trained Illuminati operative eyes kept me, my party and the four guardians of JIKIT in their overlapping fields of vision.The last two, were doing an impromptu family reunion. They were Aunts 'X' and 'Y', and neither of them smelled like fish, or crab."Aunt Deidre," I tossed out there. "What brings you here today?"It looked like clobbering time! No. Wait. Neither Mom, nor my aunts, were saying anything and they were normally so verbose."Sibeal.""Imogen.""Sibeal, you are looking surprisingly well for a dead woman," the other one said."Deidre, you are looking surprisingly alive for someone who deserves to be dead," Mom bantered back."How long have you known about this?" Imogen's eyes flickered my way."Not long, a while, more than a day, ah, take your pick," I mumbled. I decided to turn that frown aka 'my gut wrenching terror that my Mother was about to die' upside down aka ramped up my sexy, 'glad to see you in a totally incestuous way'."So, what brings you here today and why aren't you waiting upstairs with the rest of my band of cutthroats, malcontents and ne'er do-wells? Oh, and I'm happy to see both of you." Karma was about to bitch-slap the shit out of me and it was so well deserved."I'm pregnant," Imogen studied my reaction. Yeah, I had banged her after Deidre, but before Baibre because I am a fucking reprehensible human being and sometimes, I feel I am utterly irredeemable."Great news," I exhaled. I so wanted to ask 'so, who is the father?' except that was too cruel, even for an O'Shea.No one stopped me from stepping up and hugging her. Everyone in the lobby had heard her loud and clear. Anyone who knew me, or even about me, knew she wasn't passing on the information because Imogen liked sharing good news. I kept my hands on her hips while I leaned my torso back until we could make eye contact."Does Granddad know?" It occurred to me in that second that Pamela was going to kick herself for missing this and the opportunity to kick me as well."I told him over the phone. His reaction was neutral," she responded."Whoa, girl? Boy? How are you doing? When are we going to sit down and figure out a name? Is there anything I can do for you?""Come home with me," she suggested."No," Mom snapped. "Next time he steps into your custody, we all know you won't let him get away." She meant the plane trip to Ireland."No, Mom," I countered. "I'm a grown man now and I make my own decisions. That being said   no, I'm not going home with you.""Not only am I still in love with the concept of my personal freedom, I have important work to do. People are counting on me.""We are counting on you too," Deidre stated. "In fact, that is the other reason we came here. We need you.""Why do I feel that has to do with something besides sex?""Can we talk to you in private?" Imogen requested. There were a thousand and one reasons to say 'no'. Things like 'common sense', bad behavior   they had murdered my homicidal uncle   and the fact they were as morally twisted as their creator. Oh   and they were hot and I hadn't been laid in forever."Sure. Let's go upstairs. You can have your people sweep the room to ensure our privacy then the four of us can sit down and have a family chat," I offered."We don't want her in the room," Deidre indicated Mom."We are a package deal," I denied her. "Like her, or not, she is as much family to me as you both are."They consented far too fast. Either I was falling into their masterful trap, or something horrible had happened. Neither options was palatable to me. The bodyguards departed, Wiesława last of all."What's gone wrong?" Mom preempted me. Her sisters glared."Father's body is not his own," Imogen told us. I was trying to figure out the relevance of that when Mom gasped."Oh fuck," she said in a small voice. "No serum?" Oh yeah, the refinement of those addictive pheromones Grandpa Cáel had gifted me with. Whatever flesh-form he currently inhabited wasn't one containing his genetic make-up meaning,"Oh shit," I mumbled. "What can I do?""Yes," Deidre replied to Mom."Let them die," Mom insisted (to me). Less I forget, she was raised by Grandpa Cáel too. Her being a loving mother to me didn't translate over to her being a humanitarian of any kind."The Hell you say," I jumped up and stared down at Mom. "You hate them. I don't. Letting them die makes me worse than him." Grandpa."So you will help us?" Deidre moved to the edge of her seat."Okay. This is the point where I threaten you into making some concessions, we argue then you eventually cave in because no matter how terrible your futures look, you aren't willing to give up on living. None of that is going to happen. What do you need from me?""Come back with us to Ireland so we can finish our experiments," Imogen joined me in standing. Unwilling to give her sister any physical advantage, Mom stood as well."No. That isn't even a believable lie," I scolded her. "You don't need to blackmail me into helping you. I'll do it gladly. That doesn't mean I'll let you trick me into doing something stupid. I do 'stupid' all the time. I'm accustomed to it and I know it when its ugly head rises up before me. Try again.""We could pick a neutral location," Deidre suggested."How about Havenstone?" They didn't look like that plan was even worthy of their consideration. "Imogen, inside you is growing a possible heir to House Ishara. An attack on you would be an attack on Ishara. Barring you betraying the Amazons, you would be perfectly safe.""Wonderful," Mom's sarcasm dripped off every word. "I'm going to be a grandmother to my nephew while my son is bringing a child into the world that can double as his cousin.""That sound pretty horrible, Mom. It is the truth, but it still sounds pretty terrible."While those words tumbled out of my mouth, I did a little soul back-searching. How in the fuck was   outside of the actual fucking   was Imogen pregnant? My existence was a freaking fluke of nature. A few words were bandied about the room while I was lost in deductive reasoning and turning hunches into assumptions and turning those into reasonable mystic hypotheses.I created the Mojo-Little Engine that thought it could. Specifically, the legacy of Vranus. Legions of little Vranusian sperm had been jumping hurdle after hurdle to keep the faith alive   that Vranus would meet his Ancestors with his mission accomplished. I was already half way there.Still, the legacy of Vranus and the hopes of Dot Ishara hadn't stopped in their struggle just because I had been born. They were still trying to restore the mortal descendants of a Dead House. They were also still spiritually pushing me on to fulfill his last command   to save the Arinniti sons.I was halfway there by returning the offspring of Bolu, Vranus' fellow guardian, back to the fold. It remained for me to round up the purpose of the whole mission in the first place. My semen weren't taking a chance that I could get gakked before that was accomplished. Having knocked up an augur despite the toxic soup she called blood should have been a dire warning to me, I'm an idiot.When the curse of Sarrat Irkalli clashed with the actions of Dot Ishara, Ishara had won. Sarrat Irkalli sought to deny Alal any children of his own. Dot was insisting the male line of Vranus Ishara continue on. The end result was Alal received his long-denied grandson, who just happened to also want him dead because of a feud that stretched back over two millennia.As an added insult, his grandson then knocked up one of Alal's genetically manipulated daughters, again giving him something he couldn't accomplish on his own   heirs   grand-sons and  daughters, most who would also want to kill him, being Amazons and members of the 9 Clans after all. Why? Cause Goddesses are bitches, that's why.That got me to wondering when would be the next time I was going to meet Ishara. I hadn't suffered severe head trauma in while and she was overdue for some snuggle time, witty banter and a fortune cookie. I'd try to be careful. It wouldn't do any good, but I had to try."Why are you crying?" Mom touched my arm."No reason," I lied."Why don't we make plans for tonight?" Deidre insinuated herself next to me. "We'd like to meet Hana. From what I understand, Father likes her.""No can-do," I sniffled. "I've got an orgy with 159 women at 8 o'clock, except there won't be any sex, or fun of any kind. Basically, I have to convince a roomful of women to not beat me up and take my stuff.""You don't have to go," Imogen had finished boxing me in   I had a chair behind me and Momma-clones all around."For the same reason I'm going to take care of our child, Imogen, I have to go to this meeting. People are counting on me to do the right thing without telling me what the right thing to do is.""That's unfair," Deidre empathized by stroking my chest."Not so. This is just another day in the life of a new hire at Havenstone Commercial Investments. Every day is like this and in five more days, the real fun beings." That wasn't entirely accurate. I had one good, stress-free week. It was when Carrig put me in a coma. That week I had done pretty well for myself.{9:28 am, Wednesday, Sept. 3rd ~ 5 Days to go}I trundled my latest 'Assistant-in-Charge of keeping the hopes of future Isharans alive' (I didn't want to call Aunt Imogen, or any other woman, my 'Baby-Mamma'), along with Mom and Deidre, for a meet-and-greet with Buffy. I had spelled out in no uncertain terms that Buffy was the power behind the Ishara Throne and thus making 'her' believe they were playing on the up-and-up was their best hope for easing relations between the O'Shea and the Amazon Host.After they left me (with the assurance we'd be getting back together for lunch, with Hana), I made three calls. I needed to make a formal request to Katrina (any Illuminati member(s) entering any Amazon facility was her purview) and another to Elsa (as a sign of respect) that Aunt Imogen and two unarmed bodyguards, max, needed to see our medicos about a delicate issue.The third call was to Buffy to enlighten her as to both the arrival of another one of my aunts (so we needed to get along peacefully with her) and that Aunt Imogen was carrying yet another potential heir to House Ishara. I suggested it would be a symbolic gesture if a member of House Ishara could hang around for the visit, as it might impress upon Imogen our House had a vested interest in keeping her alive."Another one?" Buffy sizzled. "And this one is your aunt?""It is a date then," I stumped her."You are going to take your pregnant aunt out on a date?" Buffy's sizzle meter was rapidly climbing to Krakatoa proportions."Nope. I'm setting up a date for us. You, me and a quiet location at 12:01 am Tuesday morning, my First. Later in the morning, I'll be heading out to wherever they have stored Felix so we can work on some cooperative strategy.""And if I say 'no'?" She was terribly grumpy."Ugh, I guess I'll go bar-crawling with Odette and Timothy, Gay and Lesbian bars only. That way I know I'll behave.""And if they say 'no'?" she was slightly less hostile."I'll know you threatened their lives, and then you and I will finally find out who is better on the mats. Trust me, it will not be an experience you will enjoy.""I don't know. I think I'd like that.""No. You start threatening the other people I love and you will not be happy; I guarantee that, Buffy."She realized I was both serious and angry. She had stepped out of bounds, the 'bounds' I had set up two hours earlier during our elevator ride."Is the meeting still on for the night?" she evaded my disappointment."Yes. Will you be there?""Of course," she grumped."Buffy, don't bother showing up if you can't separate 'us' as friends, 'us' as Wakko Ishara and my First, and you as my apprentice."Making me miserable in the first relationship doesn't help the latter two one bit. I try not to be an irresponsible asshole as House Head. More than anyone else, you know what I will sacrifice to be Ishara and one with my Isharans. I'll also step out and be plain ole 'Cáel Nyilas' when events permit.""But I am sick and tired of people not taking my desire to be foolish and care-free seriously. Being a dogmatic ass-hat isn't in me, but if you can't work with that, from here on out we are Wakko Ishara and Buffy Ishara and nothing more. I will still trust you as an Isharan, but not as a friend. Your choice.""Don't be such an asshole!" she snapped."Screw you!" I fired back. "I made a fucking effort to plan out some personal time with you, disguised as a joke; you knew it and you still decided to be a ball-buster. Like I need another fucking ball-buster right now, with all the other shit on my plate. You know better!" I was screaming. The people in JIKIT were working overtime at not staring at me."I'm under a ton of stress here too," she snarled. "I have to deal with the Council, keep our House growing and fulfill my obligations with Executive Services.""Do you want to quit? No longer by my 'apprentice'? Go back to working for Katrina full time?""Really?" she whispered."Of course the fuck not!" I shouted. "I didn't pick you for the job because of your sterling personality, or your bedroom excellence. I picked you because I had, and still have, utter faith in your ability to do whatever is necessary to overcome the landfill-sized colossal ill-fortune the Ancestors have dumped in our lap.""I'm just asking you to stop being a whiny, over-sensitive cunt and remember: it was the psychotic bitch who I chose for the top spot," I rumbled."I'm going to kick your ass," she seethed."Nice to know. We on for Monday night?"Pause."Yes," and she hung up. Two seconds later my phone rang again. "Buffy?" I answered. "And don't be late!" she menaced, then hung up again."So," Addison turned my way, "are you praying for World Peace to break out, or Nuclear War?""Hardy-har-har," I griped."Now that your personal drama is temporarily derailed, we have something for you to look at," Mehmet motioned for my attention. "Ever heard of Kōfuku no Kagaku?" I shook my head. "It translates over as 'Happy Science' and it is a cult-like organization in Japan.""Cool beans. Why do I have a sinking impression it is not a front for the Ninja?""That is what we want you to find out," Addison took over. "Of critical importance is the news conference their leader, Ryuho Okawa, gave earlier this afternoon/morning (~ 3:17 pm Tokyo time = 2:17 am East Coast time ~), especially a very relevant part of his interesting public announcement."He claims to be the Earthly manifestation of the Supreme Being. That is old news. Today he claimed that Temujin of the Khanate was the reincarnation of the original Genghis Khan and, with him, Ryuho, as the unifier of theological forces and therefore serving as spiritual advisor to Temujin, they would usher in a new period of Peace throughout Asia.""I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," I exhaled."He also claims that Japan is in the midst of an epic struggle, both spiritually and in the physical sense. The 'ancient guardians' of Japanese purity, the 6 Ninja Families, are at war with the depth of all Evil, the Chinese Seven Pillars of Heaven by name, who are determined to drag all of Asia away from the Light and into the Darkness of pain, degradation and slavery."In fact I quote: 'Alone among the nations of the Earth, only the Japanese cultural identity can stand firm against this global menace. Only the Japanese can keep the torch of true Enlightenment aloft. Only the Japanese can guide the development of the Khanate into the Supreme Empire it is meant to be'.""I'm going to go out on a limb here and say this guy is pseudo-religious, a Japanese ultra-nationalist as well as anti 'all things Sino'," came out of my mouth."Correct.""None of the Secret Societies would do something so public. Temujin's background is a mystery, but no one in the Khanate is calling him a reincarnated spirit, and they know the truth," I continued."This guy is pretty nutty," Mehmet confirmed. "He also claims to channel Buddha, Mohammed, Christ and Confucius. His followers worship him as the Earthly manifestation of the 'Supreme Being' named El Cantare, which is yet another name for any number of ancient supreme deities. And he claims to consult with the 'spirit guardians' of national leaders and aids in their mystic defense, with the aid of the Five Sacred Sisters' Spirits."Clearly this man was insane. Unfortunately, insane didn't make someone wrong,"Ah Hell," I muttered.Mehmet and Addison perked up; after all, figuring out the bizarre was my position on the team."He probably is insane, and I can't blame him," I sighed. "He isn't El Cantare; he is in touch with the Weave.""I have a feeling this is 'not good'," Addison murmured. "How bad is it?""The Five Sacred Spirit Sisters are most likely the five augurs who died in order to save Temujin, which, in turn, allies the 9 Clans with the E&S and Amazons to 'save' Japan, though it is not 'saved' yet.""Technically, the Weave IS the Supreme Being. It's largely indifferent, yet capable of doing both good and ill in response to outside (aka mortal) stimuli. If you can observe the Weave, you might be able to see the most likely path destiny is taking as well as the key players screwing with that destiny."That would include the Gong Tau sorcerers and the ninjas use of their own brand of magic; and God only knows what other mystic tricks the others have been attempting.""How do we get them to stop?" Captain Delilah Faircloth muttered."Not that easy Delilah. Everyone in this room has intersected because of a magic experiment that happened before any of us were born (Mom).""The fight at Summer Camp was flipped on its head because I saw the ghost the 7 Pillars sent to scout the area. My freeing of one of those trapped and tortured souls led to the calamity at the Barbeque Pit. I didn't use magic. I countered it. Still, my actions were interfering with the Weave."All four people the augurs, those Five Sisters, told me about had been dead at some point in time, some for thousands of years. Ajax didn't kill anyone using magic. Neither has Saku, yet both of them are products of disruptions in the Weave. 'Me' being alive and breathing is yet another disruption, since I shouldn't exist because of another mystic curse from five thousand years ago."Being alive and killing people means I've killed people who shouldn't be dead. Do we need to go into all the millions that have died in the Khanate war? Which was a combination of a resurrected Temujin and the 7 Pillars hunger for World Domination, if we do nothing, the rippled of those other disruption will still carry on."Except for me, no one on this taskforce has used an iota of magic, yet we are all dedicated to combatting mystical forces," I related to the group. I wondered where Rikki (Martin) and Beatrice (Ya Konan) had gotten off to. Lady Yum-Yum being absent only made my 'Scooby' senses tingle more."You use magic?" Agent-86 tilted his head in curiosity."I talk to a Goddess on a semi-regular business. I see ghosts. I've been the conveyer of messages from dead people and I've killed an un-killable man. Do we need to go back over my kidnapping by the 7 Pillars? The memories of my undead Grandfather floating around in my head?""I'm not calling thunderbolts out of the sky and shooting fireballs out my ass, but what I am doing is magical, nonetheless.""So, what do we recommend to our allies and benefactors (i.e., our sovereign governments)?" Mehmet inquired."Hmm, we tell our governments this crackpot is a Prophet of Doom who could be turned into an asset," I rubbed my brow with all four fingers and a thumb. Rikki, Beatrice and Lady Worthington-Burke quietly entered the room. They were all highly pleased in a 'I just won the lottery' kind of way. I was curious, but had to carry on with my train of thought."Quietly start seeking out other mystic societies, preferably low-key, quiet types who avoid the limelight, and start looking into other forms of magical insight and, quite frankly, protection. If the Weave has let this happen, we can expect worse. Lastly, I'll ask my 'Brother' to meet with this guy and get a feel for his personality.""That will only increase the believability of his ramblings," Addison protested."The boat called 'Denial' has already sailed. The World is in crisis. People are going to look for non-conventional answers. It is better to get ahead of this and bring Ryuho Okawa on board as a 'consultant'. Don't give him the whole picture by any means. The guy is definitely a loose cannon. Even worse, he is also a loose cannon the Weave has touched.""Besides, the Seven Pillars are going to figure this out pretty quick, their Weave sensitivity, ya know, and either kidnap him to be their own spiritual seismic sensor, or kill him for being both a loose cannon and yet another person screwing with their 'best laid plans'. Keeping him alive has the added benefit of making the Seven Pillars expend resources trying to get at him. Japan needs every bit diversion they can get."Let's not forget to tell our Secret Society allies of our plans, lest they kill him too. His babblings aren't going to make the 9 Clans or the E&S happy with him. They both have an established habit of making perceived enemies dead. Let's keep him alive and utilize this opportunity.""I like this plan," Addison nodded. Mehmet was clearly on board as well. Agent-86 clearly was playing the best on-line mystic MMORPG ever! (And with the added bonus that his team's action had real-world consequences.) The three 'ladies' new to the room received an abbreviated version of our discussion and my 'suggestions'. They weren't really suggestions. Barring a few insanely criminal endeavors, JIKIT treated me like a true asset."Something else big?" Addison looked to her British counterpart (Yum-Yum)."The Japanese Diet has voted for a public referendum on a Constitutional Amendment to repeal/revise Article 96 of the Japanese Constitution.""Oh fuck," was echoed, either verbally or subliminally, by everyone in the room except for me, Delilah and Agent-86.'Cáel' knew Jack and Shit about the Japanese Constitution. Hell, I barely knew about the US one and I was a native. However, Alal did know it, and knew both what Article 96 was and what its amendment really meant. Good-old 96 was the rolling dark cloud across the political Great Plains that heralded a swarm of tornados. Clouds were clouds and their arrival could mean anything.Article 96 dictated how the Japanese Constitution could be amended. The current process was a 2/3rd vote in both the House of Councilors (the 'Upper House', roughly equivalent to our Senate) and the House of Representatives (the 'Lower' House) followed by a public referendum. The proposed amendment to Article 96 would transform the process to a mere majority vote in both Houses.Imagine the shit-storm which would be unleashed if the US Congress tried to pull that shit. The biggest political issue was that the Japanese Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) held 294 of the 475 seats in the lower house (a clear majority) and 115 of the 242 in the Upper House (7 seats short of a majority). If the amendment passed next month (October 14th to be precise), the LDP could pretty much do as they pleased.And what was the first thing they were going to do? They were going to put to rest another part of the Constitution, namely the far more globally important Article 9. And what was that?Real World Stuff: WarningsArticle 9:(1)Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.(2)To accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.If Article 9 was repealed, the Japanese nation could exercise diplomacy by military means, aka declaring an offensive war against a foreign power. Currently Japan had a modest budget military budget of $48 Billion a year (Earth's 10th largest). It was modest when you considered it was a mere 1% of the Japanese GDP. Great Britain, France and South Korea's smaller economies all functioned nicely with double that percentage for their military budget.Regionally, every other nation was increasing their military expenditures, except Japan's protector, the US and (perhaps) North Korea, who's spending on anything was a closely guarded state secret. Right now, China and the Khanate's military expenditures were running roughly even at $180 billion each, but this was an arm's race the PRC would eventually win, they had too great an advantage in the size of their workforce and a far larger industrial base.The truth was, if the PRC couldn't win this race fast, she was facing a long, grinding war reminiscent of the Communists' Long Rise to Power that wrecked their country a century ago. The monetary dynamic was shifting badly against them because the Khanate wasn't alone.India, Taiwan and Vietnam were also ramping up their war spending to a combined tune of $34 billion and now allied with the Khanate, equating to an additional $90 billion the PRC had to overcome. South Korea was already adding $8 billion to their military and Russia was taxing the fuck out of Manchuria to both pay for their 'Peaceful Intervention' and to increase the 'Readiness' of their other forces.All of this military spending was bad for both the regional and global economies (unless you were Israel who was turning out hardware 24/7/365 for the Khanate and Indian war machines). So at this point, Japan doing 'nothing' was possibly more disastrous than doing 'something' else.They were already spending $50 fucking billion on glorified policemen while the future of East Asia was being decided without them. Doubling the military budget would place a huge burden on the largely pacifistic population. It would also put Japan in the position of deciding the Fate of Nations.With the repeal of Article 9, Japan could utilize 'proactive means' to keep the naval supply routes to China open, not even the Indian's had the naval presence to confront the Japanese. Such a policy was a nice, friendly gesture to the Asian Colossus, who wasn't likely to show a shred of appreciation for their efforts.No, China had spent the last 60 years stoking the hatred of the Land of the Rising Sun among their people. (Many Japanese forgot current Chinese hatred was based on the Japanese butchering their way across China for nearly a decade between 1937 to 1945).(The Cornerstone) There was a truism which had guided American, Chinese, Japanese and Russian political thought for 150 years: 'There could only be one supreme power in East Asia and the Eastern Pacific'. Japan had followed the logical expression of that paradigm by invading Taiwan (1895), Korea (1910), beating up on Imperial Russia (1904), taking Manchuria (1931) and going to war with China (1937) while that country was trapped in a bloody civil war.To stop the Empire of Japan's rise, the US had attempted to cripple the Japanese economy before the Empire could harvest their just-acquired Asian natural resources. In response, Japan had thrown its soldiers and sailors into a futile effort against the British Empire, the United States and China and lost.With Imperial Japan crushed and the Soviet Union preoccupied in Europe, China had risen. The irresistible force of China's rapidly increasing population, natural resources exploitation and extensive land mass took hold. Japan couldn't compete in a 'fair' fight. Since 1945, the Japanese government had lived with the fear of aggression from Russia and/or China aimed their way.The US felt the same way, or they had. The fear produced by the broad acceptance of 'Only-One-Shall-Rule-Asia' had led to the Korean War, the half-century cease-fire along the Demilitarized Zone in Korea and the Vietnamese Civil War. The Communists in China and Russia had feuded until the Soviet Union collapsed under its own economic inadequacies.A reborn Russia, even with the ultra-nationalist Putin at the helm, couldn't stop China's growing domination. Asia was China's for the taking, until the Khanate rose up like some desert mirage in the Western Steppe, one that turned into the Mother of All Storms. So now, miraculously, the dominion of Asia was up for grabs once more.Japan could not overcome China; that was a given. The Dragon had more people, more resources and an almost three-fold larger economy. Given a decade, the PRC would grind the Khanate down. Once more it was the tyranny of numbers. Even India, Taiwan and Vietnam could only slow down the inevitable.India's subpar economic output marginalized the power of their citizenry. Taiwan had the proportional economy, but not nearly enough people. Vietnam had neither and had always had a rough time defending themselves, much less been successful confronting powers beyond her homeland. Putin's Mother Russia had a host of other problems, internal and external, so she had already contributed as much as Putin dared.Until Thursday morning, Tokyo Time, the undeniable Destiny of Asia remained in the hands of those men in Beijing. The dominoes were falling in a way those rulers had not foreseen and now fumed over. But on Wednesday night, there was no industrial power (with the population to back it up) which could threaten the People's Republic of China.Europe and the US wouldn't intervene. Much like the leadership in Japan, the Communist Chinese Politburo believed Putin had wagered as much as dared. No other nation on Earth mattered. Japan? That was laughable. Their Constitution bound the hands off their military behind their backs with a pledge of eternal pacifism.The Chinese weren't blind to the 250,000 men and women of the Japanese Self Defense Force. Without the political will, those troops might have well have been in Brazil. A hostile Brazil was actually a greater worry because Brazil was the powerhouse of South America, a G-8 economy and hungered for a Permanent Seat on the UN Security Council. The PRC was dedicated to denying their desire as it would have diluted the PRC's burgeoning diplomatic power.Japan? Ha.Thursday morning, in what was essentially an undetected (by anyone except the Ninja and JIKIT) coup d' tat, pacifism was sacrificed on the Altar of Nationalism. Article 96's demise was pre-ordained. A poll taken on July 1st, 42% of Japanese felt positively about the repeal of Article 96 while 46% opposed it.The same agency took a new poll on August 28th. The economic-political situation of Japan was going through a titanic tidal shift. If Buddhism moved you toward devout pacifist, the Khanate had liberated Tibet and was clearly withdrawing as the UN troops' boots hit the ground.If you were a Nationalist of any kind, you were seeing a whole lot more people at your rallies, accessing your websites and signing up to join your formerly fringe parties. If you were a Socialist, you were scared. Why? The PRC was in the process of nationalizing all of Japan's (and South Korea's and Taiwan's) business interests in China, for the 'Duration of the Emergency', or so they said.That meant plenty of Japanese workers were losing their jobs and looking to blame someone. You couldn't blame the centrist LDP. The LDP had been working alongside the Japanese Communist Party for months. They had done nothing wrong and had worked tirelessly for a peaceful diplomatic solution. It was their 'comrades' in China, their Marxist confederates, who were costing the hard-working Japanese workers their jobs.If you were in the Establishment, all of the above worried the crap out of you. Japan's economy had been limping along at barely-positive growth for a decade. Your aging population needed more and more from their public services and, worst of all, you had nothing in your political and economic tool box to escape the obvious oncoming national catastrophe.The possibility of a Global Recession loomed on the horizon, if they were lucky. Highly respected economists in Japan and elsewhere were examining all the key indicators over the past three months and were suggesting hording as a viable policy for middle class households to consider. If you were in the Developing World, worse was heading your way.The word being bandied about on those esteemed academic internet websites wasn't 'recession', it was depression. Global prosperity thrived on nations investing in both their own economy and the economies of other nations. The governments representing a third of the World's population were not investing in their economies.Unless you were a war profiteer, you could expect fewer consumer goods on the shelves; and what was there would cost more. Your income wasn't going up; your expenses were. If you were an Atheistic homeowner in the Western World with a secured 3.25% fixed rate home loan, you took up religion. The prime interest rate would be racing for the 20% mark and that was only if your economy was stable.If you lived in a country in the Developing World, your trade goods didn't compete with those created in the G-20. Your competition was with other Developing World businesses and the prize was the pocketbooks of those consumers in the G-20, which was a shrinking purse.It wasn't like you were being paid all that much to begin with; and now those once poor-paying, but at least plentiful, jobs were drying up. You needed your government to help you out. It wasn't like those governments could raise money by taxing the unemployed and under-employed. They didn't have money. And the rich in most of those same nations had a long and successful legacy of avoiding paying.Those growing economies had a few tried and tested 'solutions' for getting their countries through these rough stretches.The IMF? 'We are out to make 'positive' capital investments and your economic outlook doesn't look promising. We suggest 'austerity'.'The BRICS? Since India and China were basically in an undeclared state of war: 'we won't be loaning anyone anything for a while.'The BIS? 'As soon as the People' Bank of China, the Reserve Bank of India, the Central Bank of Ireland, the Bank of Israel and the Central Bank of the Republic of Turkey get back to us about their sudden, serious lack of transparency, we'll call you back.'World Bank? Holy Shit! 'The world's going down the toilet, we will do what we can.'F Y I, I (as in Cáel) had been wrong. The 6 Elders of the Ninja families didn't talk to Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee. They talked with another, far more immediately important man. So sue me (Cáel) for not knowing the inner workings of various world governments, and creatively interpreting events surrounding all those people I (Cáel) didn't. I'm a freaking Liberal Arts major with a fertile imagination, not a superspy, or even a competent Intelligence Analyst!}The Japanese government had appealed to the U.S., U.N., P.R.C., A.S.E.A.N., India; and (through back channels aka JIKIT) the Khanate for an end to this madness; all with typical results:The U.S.A: We are working on it (without letting them know what precisely they were working on)Japan: Well, do something fast. Our Government Bonds are about to be more useful as wallpaper.The U.N.: We are working on it (with their long-established tradition of not doing anything until the crisis had passed)Japan: You are preparing to pass a Resolution to move this matter from the First Committee to the Fourth Committee, gee, thanks guys. Will they be meeting sometime before Christmas?The PRC: We are too busy right now, so shut up, keep the trade lanes open, and was that your submarine we detected sneaking into our territorial waters?Japan: What? What do you mean you are 'too busy?' You are one of our biggest trading partners, your economy is going down the toilet, and, No! That was not our submarine in your territorial waters. That accusation is absurd.(Note from Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee, to Admiral Katsutoshi Kawano, head of the JMSDF {the de facto Japanese Navy}), The PRC has made this outrageous claim that one of our submarines has been sneaking around their territorial waters. There is no truth to that rumor, right?Kawano: Which time?Prime Minister: Oh My God! What have you people been doing and why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?Kawano: Sir, if you are just now getting around to asking us, you don't want to know.Prime Minister: What do you mean 'I don't want to know?' I'm the head of the damn government and, you are right. Fine. There is no way I'm going back to the Chinese Ambassador and apologizing for any this. Is there any way this can come back to screw us over?Kawano: With all these US and British submarines helping us out, not very likely, Prime Minister.Prime Minister: Oh, very good. You are correct, I don't want to know what you 'haven't' been doing. I am ordering you to destroy all transcripts and recordings of this conversation.Kawano: It has been my distinct honor not having this conversation with you, Prime Minister. Sayōnara.ASEAN, What do you expect us to do about this? Have you seen the unimpressive combined sizes of our members' air forces and navies? Did you see the smack-down the Khanate has inflicted on the PLAN's South China Sea Fleet?Besides, the PRC is claiming that the Khanate launched covert attacks against the Parcels and Spratly islands which originated from Indonesian and Filipino waters. We are investigating the issue. If you are asking us for help, you are truly screwed. Don't call us. We will call you.Japan, {muttering} Investigating the attacks that came from your territory, bullshit! You are covering your own asses, damn it!(Note from Prime Minister, Shinzō Awbee, to Shotaro Yachi, Japanese National Security Advisor), I've heard an ugly rumor that the Khanate has forces secreted in the Philippines and Indonesia. Do you happen to know anything about it?Yachi: Yes Sir. We had advance notice of the organization, composition and destination of those forces.Awbee (while muttering 'no one tells me anything anymore'): What the! Would you please tell me what is going on.Yachi: We have made critical steps toward future alliances which will guarantee Japanese security for decades to come.Awbee What does that mean, and since when have you been creating and implementing foreign policy? We have a Minister for that, in case you somehow over-looked him at the last cabinet meeting. Wait! Does he know about this too?Yachi: No Sir, Foreign Minister Kishida is currently unaware of the Kinkyū tokushu sakusen tasukufōsu (Emergency Special Operations Task Force). Admiral Katsutoshi knows the basics of our operational policy, since we need to borrow some of his assets from time to time. Director-General Kitada (of the Public Security Intelligence Agency) and key personnel from the Foreign Ministry's Intelligence & Analysis Service and Security Bureau make up the majority of the task force's operatives.Awbee: What have you been doing?Yachi: You don't want to know, Mr. Prime Minister. It would make things, awkward.Awbee: 'You don't want to know', of course, I don't. I'm only the elected head of this government. Why would I possibly want to know what acts of espionage and war my deputies are executing?Yachi: I am glad we are on the same page, Sir. Will there be anything else?Awbee: No, wait. Do you have any intelligence on what the Khanate is up to?Yachi: Yes Sir. Is there anything in particular you want to know?Analysis Services: Can you contact someone in their leadership willing to discuss regional affairs?Yachi: I can put you in touch with the Great Khan himself if necessary.AS: What!Yachi: Sir, I would hardly be acting in our nation's best interests if I couldn't divine the intentions of the key players on the stage. Shall I initiate the necessary communications to facilitate that level of clandestine diplomatic contact?AS: No. Yes. No, I need to think about this. Hmm, have you been conducting any domestic espionage missions?Yachi: You don't want me to answer that, Sir.Awbee: of course I don't, I'm only the damn Prime Minister. Shotaro, I'm still Prime Minister, aren't I?Yachi: Yes Sir. We have been working overtime to ensure that. We've foiled two enemy assassination attempts and one attempted kidnapping so far. We remain vigilant.AS: How come this is the first I'm hearing about it? Is the head of my security in on this conspiracy of yours too?Yachi: No Sir. These particular guardians wish to avoid notoriety at all costs.Awbee: Okay. Good to know. Ah, keep up the good work and destroy any trace of this conversation.Yachi: Way ahead of you, Sir. Have a good night.India, Yes, we are more than willing to work with you toward regional stability. Care to acknowledge the Khanate's legitimacy first? We'd really appreciate it. Sure, get back to us when you've done that. Until then, the South China Sea Awaits! Yes, we plan to keep what we've earned. Later now. We think there is going to be further instability in Southeast Asia.Japan, Ya think? It is your damn warships sailing around the freaking South China Sea enforcing your utterly un-secret alliance with the Khanate. Why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?The Khanate, We are not out to damage your national interests. We apologize, but there is now way we will call off this war with the Communist Chinese. It is them, or us, to the death. We have already received and agreed to your request to allow all Japanese flagged ships safe transit through the South China Sea. We really wish to be your friends this time, to make up for those two invasion attempts seven hundred years ago.(Note from  Prime Minister to Self) Great. The only reasonable people who aren't out to kick me in the nuts are also the ones I can't acknowledge talking to. I've got to do something a

The Daily Quiz - Geography Today's Questions: Question 1: Which of these countries borders Bhutan? Question 2: Which of these colors would you find on the flag of Singapore? Question 3: What is the largest island of Greece, home to the ancient ruined Minoan palace of Knossos? Question 4: Which US state is known by the nicknames "The Sagebrush State" and "The Silver State"? Question 5: Which country's flag can be described as 'Black and green triangles divided by a yellow cross.'? Question 6: What is the capital city of Botswana? Question 7: Which region of the world uses '.ng' at the end of its web addresses? Question 8: Milan is a city in which country? This podcast is produced by Klassic Studios Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode of Courage, Dear Heart, I'm joined by the wonderful Julie Mosmuller, a dedicated facilitator of women's circles, movement therapist, and embodiment coach.  Julie will be a special guest at my Wild Awakening Retreat in Crete (4th–9th May 2025), bringing her deep wisdom on feminine cycles, the land's sacred history, and intuitive movement. We explore:  What courage means to Julie—staying true to the heart, even when it challenges societal expectations.  The shadow side of women's work—navigating competition, perfectionism, and the complexities of feminine leadership.  Julie's journey from the corporate world in London to embodying her feminine essence in Crete.  How somatic awareness transformed her life—shifting from chronic stress to deep connection with intuition and body wisdom.  The power of Crete as a land steeped in ancient feminine history, and why so many women feel called to it.  Insights into the Minoan civilisation, a matrilineal society where women's wisdom was honoured.  Julie's work with movement, voice, and drumming—and what she'll be bringing to the Crete retreat. If you're feeling the call to reconnect with your body, cycles, and the wisdom of the feminine, this conversation is for you.   Join us in Crete for this Wild Awakening Retreat!  Dates: 4th–9th May 2025  Location: Douliana, Crete  More info & bookings   Connect with Julie:  Website  Instagram  Facebook: Julie Caroline Mosmuller   Let's stay connected!  Join my free community  Subscribe to Courage, Dear Heart for more deep and soulful conversations!

Historical myths often hold surprising truths that have been passed down through generations. The tale of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table was believed to be pure legend, but some evidence suggests that a figure resembling Arthur may have indeed existed in early medieval Britain. The legend of Atlantis, Plato's lost island, was thought to be a complete fabrication, but some believe it may be inspired by the ancient Minoan civilization on Crete, which was destroyed by a catastrophic volcanic eruption. So, next time you hear a captivating historical myth, there might be more to it than meets the eye!

Have feedback or a topic you want to hear about, let us know by sending us a direct message!Welcome back to another episode of KarWell Chronicles!

Join us this Sunday at 8:00 PM UK time on The Amish Inquisition, where we unravel the secrets of the legendary Atlantis with renowned researcher David ‘Stig' Hansen!

Dr. Grace Erny, a professor of Classics at the University of California - Berkeley, joins Lexie to discuss getting into Classics via extensive fieldwork and summer programs, her work on settlement pattern, economic & social transformations and Minoan artifacts in ancient Crete, and  the importance of communal dining practices and the militaristic aspects of Cretan society. So tuck in your togas and hop aboard Trireme Transit for this week's exciting odyssey! Don't forget to follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram or visit our website www.theozymandiasproject.com! Learn more about Dr. Erny: https://vcresearch.berkeley.edu/faculty/grace-ernyCheck out her publications on Academia: https://berkeley.academia.edu/GraceErnySupport us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/TheOzymandiasProject Custom music by Brent Arehart of Arehart Sounds and edited by Dan Maday.  Get exclusive bonus content (ad free episodes, early releases, and experimental content) on Patreon! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Wo gingen die Menschen nach dem Kollaps der Palastzentren hin? In der Submykenische Periode finden wir Antworten. Eine Übergangszeit zwischen Ende der Bronzezeit und Beginn der Eisenzeit. Blieben Paläste für immer verlassen? Wo finden wir Spuren mykenischer Flüchtlinge? Und welche Orte nutzten das Machtvakuum für sich aus?Quellen & Lektüre:Alcock/Davis, Sandy Pylos (…), 1998Boyd, Excavatians at Kavousi, Crete, in 1900 (…), 1901Cardogan, Karphi (…), 1992Coulson, The Architecture (…), 1983Coulson/Day/Gesell, Kavousi 1983-84 (…), 1986Conant/Thomas, The Trojan War, 2005Day/Dierckx/Flint-Hamilton/Gesell (…), Kavousi (…), 2016Day/Glowacki, Kavousi IIB (…), 2012Day/Klein/Turner, Kavousi IIA (…), 2009Day/Liston, Kavousi IV (…), 2023Day/Snyder, The “Big House” at Vronda and the “Great House” at Karphi (…), 2004Demand, The Mediterranean context of early Greek history, 2011Desborough, The Last Mycenaeans and their Successors, 1964Driessen/Sarris/Soetens/Topouzi, The Minoan peak sanctuary landscape through a GIS approach (…), 2002Freeman, Egypt, Greece and Rome (…), 2014Gimatzidis/Weninger, Radiocarbon dating the Greek Protogeometric and Geometric periods (…), 2020Hayward Hall, Excavations in Eastern Crete (…), 1914Jones, Peak Sanctuaries and Sacred Caves in Minoan Crete, 1999Knapp, Bronze Age Cyprus and the Aegean (…), 2022Knodell, Societies in Transition in Early Greece (…), 2021Lacy, Greek Pottery in the Bronze Age, 2015Maran, Tiryns. Mauern und Paläste für namenlose Herrscher (…), 2000Mountjoy, Mycenaean Pottery (…), 2001Nowicki, The history and setting of the town at Karphi (…), 1987Orphanides, Late Bronze Age Socio-Economic and Political Organization, and the Hellenization of Cyprus, 2017Palaima, *Themis in the Mycenaean Lexicon and the Etymology of the Place Name ti-mi-to a-ko, 2000Popham/Sackett/Themelis, Lefkandi I. Iron Age, 1979Ruthowski, The temple at Karphi (…), 1987Salavoura, New opportunities in turbulent times (…), 2021Shelmerdine, Nichoria in Context (…), 1981Stein-Hölkeskamp, Fallstudie Nichoria (…), 2015Strange, Caphtor (..), 1980Tartaron, Maritime Networks in the Mycenaean World, 2013Widmann, Ain't no mountain high enough (…), 2014Zangger, Landscape Changes around Tiryns during the Bronze Age, 1994Zeman, Differing trajectories of collapse in the Late Bronze Age Argolid (…), 2021Zöller, Die Gesellschaft der frühen “Dunklen Jahrhunderte” auf Kreta (…),2005Karphi in erseus.tufts.eduPDF Dokument Lage Vrokastro http://archiv.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/propylaeumdok/80/2/Zoeller_2.pdf#page=27Lefkandi in oxfordre.comZeit der Helden – Die “dunklen Jahrhunderte” Griechenlands 1200–700 v.Chr., 2008-2009Ausgrabungen in Nichoria PDF: https://www.ascsa.edu.gr/uploads/media/hesperia/147682.pdfArchäologisches Projekt Mitrou: https://web.archive.org/web/20080310022849/http://www.mitrou.org/http://www.cypnet.co.uk/ncyprus/city/guzelyurt/gz-pigadhes.htmhttps://www.heritagedaily.com/2024/04/excavations-of-mount-ellanio-summit-reveals-mycenaean-refuge/151328https://www.thehistoryblog.com/archives/69913http://www.digiserve.com/mentor/minoan/karphi.htmlMusic by Pixabay (ArizonaGuide)

Archeologist Richard Deitering talks about his findings regarding the Minoan influence in North America.We discuss the MacIntosh Stone from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and it's origins.Your American Heritage 2 15 2025 Rick Deitering Transcript

Author, Gardnerian High Priest, Minoan, Discordian, and harbinger of chaos, Thumper Forge, joins Storybook Witchcraft to sew discord and general hilarity. We find remnants of goetic sorcery and folk love spells within the tale of The Tinder Box, and AB and Aaron fight over the pipe. A fun discussion for all!  You can find Thumper Forge online at https://thumperforge.com/Follow AB's Witch Journal! https://www.youtube.com/ @abwitchjournal  Intro contains music provided by "Vivek Abhishek"https://www.youtube.com/user/VivEKhsi... Music used : "1 HOUR OF HORROR MUSIC" originally composed and produced by "Vivek Abhishek" https://youtu.be/JrNjyEixUEk Follow on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/VivekEKhsihbA/ Follow on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vivek.abhis...!  

Was Crete one of the latest Matriarchies to resist infiltration and overthrow by the waves of Indo-European invasion? What evidence is hidden in plain sight to support the presence of Matriarchy on the island?  Joan Cichon talks about her book “Matriarchy in Bronze Age Crete” which she has generously made available to all online.  Joining the discussion are Vicki Noble, Sean Marlon Newcombe and Dawn Sam Alden.

In this episode, we examine the Minoan Brotherhood, a contemporary Pagan tradition that reinterprets Minoan religious symbolism through the lens of LGBTQ+ spirituality. Founded in the late 1970s by Eddie Buczynski, the Brotherhood emerged as a response to the heteronormativity of mainstream Wicca, creating a sacred framework that centres homoerotic relationships within a reconstructed mythological and ritual structure. Drawing on the Labrys (double-headed axe) as a key symbol, the Brotherhood blends Arthur Evans' reconstructions of Minoan religion with adapted Gardnerian Wiccan ceremonial practices, emphasizing the sacralization of erotic energy, graded initiatory rites, and the role of the Minos as a spiritual leader. We critically engage with both the historical inspirations and academic critiques surrounding the Brotherhood's theology, particularly the challenges of romanticized Minoan reconstructions in contemporary Pagan practice. The episode also situates the Brotherhood within LGBTQ+ religious history, considering its significance during the AIDS crisis, its intersections with feminist spirituality, and its broader role in modern queer identity formation within esoteric traditions. As a case study in myth-making, ritual adaptation, and cultural reclamation, the Minoan Brotherhood offers valuable insights into how marginalized communities engage with ancient religious frameworks to construct meaningful spiritual identities in the present. CONNECT & SUPPORT

By Mario Seiglie - In this PowerPoint series, we conclude by looking at the pagan cultures of the ancient Minoan and Philistine civilizations with their migration into Israel. The life of Samson is explained including the destruction of the Minoan Temple. The onset of the Iron Age begins with the Philistines to

By Mario Seiglie - In this PowerPoint series, we look at the pagan cultures of the ancient Minoan and Philistine civilizations and their migration toward the region of Israel.

Emergency Council Makes Bold Move.. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “You may outrun your sins, but never forget that someone will pay the toll.”  I biked home, brushing a city bus and a BMW getting there. On the landing between the second and third floors I found an Amazon with baleful eyes; waiting. In front of my door was her psychic twin. ‘Can I get you and/or your cohort anything?' I politely inquired. Yesterday; the cold shoulder. ‘Thank you for the consideration. We will wait until our itinerary is clarified,' she nodded. I went in, catching the abrupt cut off of some 'O' talk. 'O', as in Odette and Oneida. They were on the sofa, half-turned to face each other when I walked in. Oneida stood and gave the standard Amazon respectful nod. ‘Oneida was all screwed up inside about last night in the Park, so I was explaining some of the basic tenants of BDSM to her,' Odette blithely blathered. ‘BDSM? What do you know about BDSM? I barely know about it and I've been having non-stop sex for years,' I exclaimed. ‘Cáel of Ishara, did you do those things to Rhada in an effort to fulfill her dreams?' Oneida desperately pleaded. Worse, it was spoken in English. ‘I can't talk about it,' I replied. ‘That is 'Cáel' for 'yes',' Odette intruded. ‘I began reading up on BDSM after you got the suspension rig,' was her saucy response to me. ‘Would you ever do that to me?' Oneida gave me those big doe-eyes as she sat down. No, she didn't want a rape fantasy. That kind of submission wasn't her thing. I paced around, stomped into the kitchen then back to the living room. ‘No Oneida, I would never do something like that to you,' I promised. ‘I like having sex; a whole bunch. I like the women I'm with to have a great time too.' ‘That means I figure out what really excites her and provide it because I normally want to have sex with that girl again,' I explained, neglecting the 'and again and again and again.' ‘Is it over between you two?' Oneida asked. She meant Rhada and me. ‘Oneida, did I ask you to come over today?' I countered. ‘Have I upset you?' Oneida's lower lip trembled. 'Yes' would make things so much easier. ‘No,' I lied. ‘Let's look at this from another angle. How would you feel if Paula showed up at your domicile unannounced? You walked in and there she was.' ‘Oh,' she stood up again. ‘I apologize.' At this moment, saying nothing meant she'd leave. I'm an idiot. ‘Do you want to stay for dinner?' I offered. It took a few seconds for Oneida to forgive herself enough to accept my suggestion. Me raping Rhada less than 24 hours ago? We'd deal with that later, or so she promised herself. ‘Okay; if it is not too much trouble,' Oneida nodded. In came the doom and gloom duo and we ordered some over-sized sandwiches from an Italian Deli two blocks away. After the two walked through my place (again, I was sure) and the food arrived, the bodyguards relaxed into a close proximity of human beings. The freakishness continued as Odette bonded with the Amazon killers with tales of my sexual exploits. At the same time, I romanced Oneida in half a dozen languages. Storming those gates was going to take more time than I normally gave a single sexual encounter. Oneida kissed me. She loved kissing me. She was ecstatic about kissing me. She made it real clear there would be not petting; yet. Penetration wasn't even on the (her) agenda. This didn't meant I was accepting her marching orders. I was far craftier than that. My plan was one of 'setting an example'. I stood up; we were sitting on the bench press seat, shot Odette a sexy look then went to the kitchenette. We got something; whatever it was wasn't important. The crucial activity was my surrounding Odette in my arms from behind. I kissed her neck, Odette wiggled her ass against my crotch and murmured happily. More kissing along the neck, ear and jawline ensued. Odette exhaled a happy breath, and twisted around in my grasp until we were face to face. An exhaustive French kiss finishing up with a few light pecks and led to us rubbing noses like Inuit. ‘Thanks buddy,' I smiled warmly at Odette. ‘She blue-balling ya?' Odette snickered. ‘Big time,' I muttered. Odette squiggled down my body then bit both my nipples through my shirt making me gasp. ‘That should do nicely,' Odette's eyes were alight and she was super-pleased with herself. She smacked my ass then returned to the living room. I returned to Oneida. After a few seconds, ‘Does it disturb you to be treated like that?' Oneida murmured. ‘Like what?' I sounded so innocent. Trust me; this is a crucial relationship tool. ‘Like; like we would treat one of our males,' she looked for my reaction. I laughed. ‘The critical difference is that I can say 'no',' I smiled. ‘Oneida, do you think the original Ash Men spent every moment not in battle, contemplating their place in the Universe?' Clearly, she had. ‘Believe me, men hunted, worked their crafts and chased female Amazons when they weren't eating, or sleeping.' ‘Warfare is an emotional undertaking,' I had read that somewhere. ‘You can believe that with the battle safely won, your ancestors and my ancestors fooled around. They sang songs, wrote poetry, and created artwork for the ladies they courted. They wanted the attention of the strongest, bravest and most courageous mates, just like your ancestors did.' ‘I think I do know something about the Ash Men you don't,' I prodded her. ‘What? I have studied them for many years,' Oneida was now more engaged. ‘What can you tell me about Vranus?' I asked. That stumped her. ‘I; nothing is written of his exploits,' Oneida admitted. ‘We know he was a young warrior for Ishara.' ‘Think about this, Oneida; Vranus was only twenty yet a member of the Host,' I started. She nodded. ‘He is shown with twin axes; no shield and no bow. That means he had to be very brave, rushing through the initial exchange of arrow fire and thrown spears to attack his enemy. His House probably directed him to large clumps of opponents, breaking their formations for the Host to exploit.' ‘That means he fought alone for several seconds until his accompanying Amazons could pick apart his foe,' I explained. ‘That must have been horrible,' Oneida frowned. ‘Not at all,' I protested. ‘He was trusted with a crucial task; to hold the enemy's focus so the faster moving Amazons could attack their foe from multiple directions at once.' ‘The Amazons of House Ishara must have been very proud of him,' I fluffed out the fantasy. ‘From what you saw from my two exhibition with twin axes, it is very tiring. Vranus had to have absolute confidence his sisters were coming for him. They trusted one another, thus fighting as one organic unit. It was a synergy that included the best of both genders.' That last bit confused her. ‘Back then, most of the Host would have been of the same genetic stock from the time of the First Betrayal. Short and fast. The males of the region they took over were taller; the local men being even taller than the local women. That means you give men heavier and longer weapons. Your people would have favored bows, light shields and short spears; ranged, or quick in and out tools.' Was any of that true? Not a history major, so I have no clue. ‘Many of the Host at the time rode horses yet there are also pictures of them forming battle lines,' Oneida enlightened me then her own eyes expanded. ‘Males are always shown with solid round shields while the Host; women had the oval wicker shields.' ‘Lacking stirrups, the Amazons may have used the men to grapple with the enemy then rode their horses around the flanks, dismounted and engaged their opponents from the rear; Amazon style,' I grinned. It was. Amazons were all about out-maneuvering and confounding their foes. The Amazons hadn't been callous with their males' lives. At one time, chosen females had held the center line. Over time, as males joined, it was practical to adapt the solid wooden shields of their opponents for their own males and put them in the place where their upper body strength and size were of best effect. The unknown older male with Vranus had probably held his place in the battle line dozens of times. I doubt he complained, or even thought to complain. Who would have taken his place? A smaller sister, aunt, or daughter? Had other males objected? Sure, the battle line in Amazon tactics was not the place of glory. The striking arm were the horse-riders. Countless times adversaries had spent the last minutes of their lives with the echoes of horses, hooves and female Amazon war cries seemingly all around them. Some wise old dead fucker once said 'defeat starts in the mind'. I wholeheartedly believed in that; except my version was 'having sex with me starts with my insidious nature'. ‘Defeat starts in the mind,' I stared intently into Oneida's eyes. Love poetry is a matter of emotional context, not actual words. I pulled Oneida to me, letting her straddle my lap because I desperately wanted her to understand my tortured soul. Grinding her vulva against my hard-on was totally accidental, as was our renewed French kiss and me grabbing two handfuls of her ass. There was no rushing of things. Oneida was a skittish mare and I had to keep her feeling safe despite her sexual peril. Any woman who bothers to get to know me knows I am not a complicated guy. Case in point: by the time Oneida was feeding me her left nipple, Odette already had the security types sweep my bedroom (again) then the three retreated to Timothy's room and shut the door. Were Oneida's guardians worried about Oneida's carnal violation? No, why would they? Amazons had dick on demand. Virginity didn't hold any religious significance for them; killing things did. With the speed and efficiency those other two Amazons made themselves scarce, I imagined they were happy that Oneida had stopped mooning over me and getting a good grip on reality. A righteous dicking was in the offing. Oneida's open eyed, opened-mouth countenance when she found herself naked on my bed with a naked me hovering over her was precious. That look always was. It did necessitate a question. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?' I whispered. My aroused cock brushed along her thigh. The question was a courtesy. The answer was always the same because girls want to have sex. They also want to believe they have a say in the process from beginning to end. I say 'believe' because sex done right is passion and passion is the rejection of reason. At some point in the seduction, intercourse becomes an avalanche. Logic can scream all it wants; the hormones are not listening. I slipped into Oneida's velvety liquid embrace. She gave up a sigh of relief. She'd made the jump into intimacy. Any other explanation for what was going to happen would have implicated me as a 'Player'; which everyone else thought I was. Oneida had this romantic ideal of me that no amount of evidence appeared to shatter. Personally, I was starting to dread ever going to her bedroom. I wasn't sure of her 'My Little Pony' comforter would be a turn-off for me. I had done in it on Pocahontas and The Little Mermaid, so odds were I'd pull through in the clinch. ‘I am not hurting you, am I?' I moaned. Said for emotional impact alone. If I was causing a girl pain, I would have stopped first. ‘No,' happy murmuring, ‘I'm wonderful.' The most powerful organ human's possess is the brain. Oneida was a 'talker'. She wanted to express her feelings during intercourse; not give to directions, but as an effort to increase her participation in the sex act itself. Slow, steady strokes followed, withdrawing my glans half way along her labia, moved up and down slightly then gradually pushed back in. Every entry held something new for her. I added to the process by tilting her thigh and leg forward so that my next penetration tantalized a whole new series of trigger points in her cunny. On the next pass, Oneida began her own experimentations, twisting and adjusting the angle of her hips as I worked my rod in and out. Oneida began crying. I wasn't upset and that didn't make me a callous bastard. She was shedding tears of joy and regret; joy because her first climax was in the offing; regret because she wish she had done this with me sooner. She had been a Havenstone employee so we hadn't done the deed. We still had to keep our liaison secret. Why? I'd think of something. The real reason was pure politics. I never knew what wacky dame hated another wacky dame for reasons I couldn't even get into, but I knew it would curtail my dating opportunities. I'd pay the price of deception later. What I couldn't take was being denied sex without having done anything wrong first. ‘Am I making you happy?' Oneida gasped. No flippancy here; romance was the key. ‘You demand things from me few other women do,' I replied breathlessly. I wasn't going to lie to her. Prettying up the truth was good enough and it made her happy. I also got something new; to her, not to me. She orgasmed. Whatever she'd been satisfied with before, I obliterated in a few quick, decisive strokes. Oh God; did she go off! It has happened to me before; the door being kicked in; just not in mid-orgasm. Guns being pointed at yours truly while the girl was in mid-scream was new. And Oneida was still carrying on and on. ‘I was trying to tell you!' Odette was screaming. ‘He does that to us all the time; please don't shoot him.' The whole 'girl screaming at me in Old Kingdom Hittite' was also new. My mentor preferred Minoan. ‘I have come back from Death,' Oneida rasped. Her skin was flushed deep red from her exertion, she had bathed us both in sweat and she was coming up with any form of vocalization from Goddess-knows where she had screamed for so long. She looked at me with love in her eyes; damn it. She looked and looked and looked and; finally noticed the two women at the foot of the bed. ‘Is; some; thing; wrong?' Oneida panted while gazing at her two guardians with worry.  ‘You may outrun your sins, but never forget that someone will pay the toll.' There was someone pounding on my apartment door. ‘Neighbor; door; I'm on it,' Odette called out. Seconds later the deadbolts clicked and the door opened. ‘Hello, Mr. Finnes.' ‘You God-damn Whore!' he screamed. ‘Where is that homo and his butt-buddy? The cops are on their way and this time you are all in the street.' He had a good head of steam on tonight. Slayer of Testicles #1 looked at Slayer of Testicles #2, nodded and left. ‘Who is this bitch,' Finnes got out. It was so wrong that I recognized the next sound. It was the barrel of a gun being inserted into a person's mouth. ‘Listen and listen carefully,' SoT#1 spoke softly. ‘You are going back to your hovel. If I get word, or even a bad premonition, that you are causing this apartment a hint of worry, I am going to come back and end you in a fashion the New York City's Coroner's Office will find memorable.' ‘I do not care if you have to puncture both eardrums to drown out the noise. I am not a compassionate person. In fact, I am considered sadistic by those who know me well. Now go back home, tell the police who show up this was all a mistake and give a prayer of thanks to whatever deity you grovel before that I didn't simply ram my firearm up your anus and decorate the ceiling in what passes for brains in your pathetic bone-sack of a body,' she menaced. There was a choking/gagging noise then the sound of heaving. ‘Mr. Finnes; are you okay?' Odette worried. As a wonderful counter-point. ‘Have you given me your seed?' Oneida asked hopefully. I was still hard. It had only been ten minutes of sex after all. I gently rocked my penis deeper in. ‘Oh,' she happily babbled. ‘Again?' SoT#2 questioned. I made a few more penetration cycles instead of speaking. ‘Do they train you in some sort of Sex Academy for this? Are there more males out there like you?' ‘Is having a viewing gallery a real damper on the mood?' I asked her while looking into Oneida's eyes. I was actually proud of Oneida for not sending the other woman away. It showed me she respected the woman's job. I also heard the apartment door shut. ‘Wow, your threat was nice and spooky,' Odette snickered. ‘Threat? Child, what do you think I do for a living?' SoT#1 asked. ‘You are one of those wacko, psycho-chicks Cáel Nyilas works with,' Odette was undoubtedly smiling. ‘Correct, I am one of those wacko, psycho-chicks;' SoT#1 left that hanging out there. ‘You weren't playing with Mr. Finnes, were you?' Odette grew quiet. Pause. ‘There is really a job which allows you to do that kind of stuff?' Pause. ‘Can I apply?' ‘This is not something you apply;' SoT#1 began, but then, ‘I guess if Cáel wants to; ‘ ‘Cool,' Odette was truly irrepressible. ‘If he does that, there will definitely be consequences and repercussions,' SoT#1 cautioned. ‘Oh, I think I had better stick with being his fuck-buddy,' Odette conceded. ‘Wise choice,' SoT#1 agreed. My bedroom door shut. SoT#2 had slipped out. Do you often have sex with an audience?' I teased Oneida. ‘Yes,' she answered matter-of-factly, ‘I do. Don't you?' ‘Now that you mention it;' and I got back to the pleasure that encompasses so much of my life. Sunday Night. ‘Cáel,' a voice purred over my phone. ‘Hey Nicole,' I greeted my lawyer not-quite a hook-up anymore. Also, unless you are Sure you know the female caller, don't take a gamble with the name. ‘So, do you have something going on tonight?' she queried. ‘Nope. My normal engagement had to cancel so I'm sitting back with some friends who do not appreciate the depth of my depravity,' I sighed. ‘Canceled?' She laughed. ‘On you? Have your recovered from the shock?' ‘Actually, they had a death in the family and had to go to South Carolina,' I explained. ‘Oh; sorry,' Nicole apologized. ‘Well, if you are feeling lonely and neglected, you could come by work and do me a favor.' ‘I am feeling neither lonely, nor neglected, but I am certainly missing you right now. Give me a half hour and I'll be there,' I promised. She thanked me and hung up. ‘Who is it this time?' Odette snickered. Man, I was becoming so used to her hanging around. ‘Nicole the lawyer,' I replied. I trekked back to my bedroom to prep. I opted for the 'Bad Boy' look; worn jeans, high-top tennis shoes (equally worn), my Plant Smashers t-shirt (Quebecois ska band; yes, I will road-trip to another country for sex) and my Bolingbrook bomber jacket. Yes, I was going to an Ivy League Law firm dressed like a carjacker. Every other male was going to be dressed in finely-tailored silk and I had to stand out. Since I couldn't outspend them, I was going to make them look like effete pussies by dressing like I just didn't care what anyone thought. I was coming over to screw Nicole and there would be no doubt about it. ‘Isn't that chick rich?' Timothy teased me. ‘Yeah. I'm packing the glow in the dark Trojans tonight; cause she's special,' I grinned. ‘Oh! I love those,' Odette squealed. She really needed to trust me less. I walked over, cupped her ears with my hand then kissed her on the forehead. I did the same to Timothy. His look suggested that I had best make a hasty exit before he kicked my ass. I caught a taxi a block away. It turned out he was from Qatar and he asked if I was sure about the address I gave him. I grinned then told him I could outrun 95% of the yPD so was feeling good about my chances. He snorted, countering with 'If you were an Arab, they'd shoot you.' Not to be outdone, 'I'd claim to be a Syrian anti-government protester; you know, because we all look alike to these Caucasians'. We laughed for a bit then he said he had a younger sister back in the homeland. I insisted I was immoral; a wicked man. 'Was I religious?' 'Only when it suited my purposes.' 'Would I consider converting to Sunni Islam?' 'Only if the girl was cute enough.' He showed me her picture; dammit, she had a really beautiful face. I got her name, his name and the name of his mosque. I considered it. Yahweh, Christ, Bacchus (wine, an orgy and 'bull' testicles; long story) and Jehovah all had reasons to barbeque my ass already. Why not add Allah to the mix, besides it being an incredibly stupid thing to do for a man in constant mortal peril like me? In theory, three of the four definitely had the possibility to be the same Omniscient and Omnipotent Galactic Being so the odds were I wouldn't get too much more screwed. I finished up my journey imagining Buffy in a burqa. That evolved into a vision of me being force-fed a burqa; in private; where no one could hear my muffled cries for help. Buffy; murdering me; made me horny. I am a sick puppy. ‘Buffy,' I called her as I paid the cabbie. ‘What; huh; are you okay, Cáel?' Buffy muttered. ‘Yes, I'm fine. I was dreaming of you and decided to give you a call,' I related in a sleepy voice. ‘Oh;' she sounded affectionate. ‘Yeah. In the dream you were murdering me. It was so romantic; so you,' I related. ‘Shit-for-brains, do you have any idea what time it is?' Buffy turned all savage in an instant. ‘Hmm; 11:45?' I offered up. ‘Call me this late again when it is not an emergency and your dream will become a reality,' she growled. ‘You know you sound so;' and she hung up on me. I called Nicole and warned her I was at her building, pursued by two FDIC investigators and could she please come and rescue me. She snickered, came down and retrieved me, but not before the yPD stopped by for a casual conversation and I hadn't even been standing there two minutes. In my neighborhood you were lucky if you saw a patrol car every thirty minutes and short of offering them some crack cocaine, cheap nookie, or shooting a gun off, they never stopped. Was I my normally fuck-wad self? No. I told the man/woman team the truth. Some upper crust weenies I worked with dragged me off to Yuppie Hell. I hooked up with a lawyer who I screwed repeatedly in the Women's bathroom and she was calling me for round 2. Second question (the first one was name/ID/reason for being in this part of town dressed like I was)? Was she paying me? 'No'. Was I practicing safe sex (female cop; married even)? 'Yes'. Was she the red-head at the door behind me? 'Yes she was and goodnight.' ‘What are you dressed like that for?' Nicole smiled. In her mind she already knew the answer; I had come here to screw her; raw and primal. ‘Ballroom dancing was not on the itinerary you gave me,' I smiled. We went inside. ‘My co-workers are still here,' she hinted seductively. ‘Whoa now!' I protested humorously. ‘I am not here to pull a train; girls only.' Nicole nearly fell over laughing. She was so embarrassed by me and my attire, she dragged me straight to the conference room 'her' team was working out of. Everyone else was eating. Two of the lawyers were clearly the top dogs; a man and a woman. The woman had a vague resemblance to one of the portraits I'd seen coming in; a legacy. The man screamed 'serial killer'. It probably made him one hell of a lawyer, but spooky to live with, or work for. The other nine people in the room were in two groups. Two were obviously paralegals. They dressed in what must have started out as clean, starched clothing from off the rack as opposed to tailored. The other seven were lawyers in their own dual set-up. My amateur guess was two different branches of law. This group was dressed in fine clothes now wrinkled from a long day's work, plus it was a Sunday. They were not at their best yet they were still better than most of what I had. The most endearing part was how they looked at me. Even the female contingent thought that I was trash. I had certainly given them the opportunity. Seriously, they should have paid more attention to Nicole, her intelligence, competence and tastes. Come on now; there was no way she'd bring some grease-monkey from Flatbush to her workplace. They needed to engage their brains and not their social bias. A murmur slithered through the crowd. Amusement and condescension were the clear messages shot my way. I imagine the poor soul who delivered the food got less crap because he/she was providing a tangible service. ‘Nicole, who is this?' the woman asked. Sex. Outside of her being a soulless cancer on the hopes and dreams of mankind, she was an alluring forty-something. ‘This is my friend Cáel;' Nicole began, both her arms wrapped around my right arm. ‘Cáel Belafonte,' I interrupted. You could tell who the trial lawyers in the room were. Their expressions told me they knew I was lying. ‘Fascinating Mr. Belafonte,' Mr. Serial-Killer droned on. ‘What do you do?' ‘I am an Ichthyologist,' I met his gaze. ‘I'm involved in a twenty year study to determine the cause for the reduction in the size of Tuna fish scales.' That had them stumped. ‘That sounds like yet another great waste of government funds,' a young male lawyer with more bravado than combat-sex experience fired off. ‘Oh,' I shrugged. ‘Smaller scales, smaller full-sized Tuna, a spike in tuna prices and an eventual world-wide restriction on Tuna fishing, similar to the one currently covering virtually all whale species. Now, I doubt you know which people will decide who the recipient of those lucrative Tuna contracts will be, but I do. By all means; mock what you don't understand.' ‘Government research project results will be in the public domain,' a woman joined the struggle. ‘Yes; and?' I asked in a bland tone. ‘Your research will be available to all kinds of commercial concerns,' male asshat grinned. ‘Your ability to show that you are as smart as any pre-law student must make someone, somewhere very proud,' I grinned back. Confused looks. Nicole was struggling to keep it together. ‘He never said he was in any manner part of the government, or a government program, Mr. Cherrie,' the female lead barracuda gave me her own hungry look. The guy looked pissed. ‘Oh, Mr. Belafonte, are you a private researcher, or a government one?' she female junior lawyer asked. ‘Heather Pulaski,' she gave her name. ‘Call me Cáel, Heather, and I am in no way associated with any government, I barely know what an Ichthyologist is and I'm certainly not one. Rude, arrogant people annoy me when they treat my friends like they are stupid; especially when they should know better. I can rarely stop myself from ridiculing them,' I grinned. ‘And now you think you are better than everyone else in the room for tricking us with this juvenile prank,' the Serial Killer sounded bored. ‘No. The lives of strangers are not my concern,' I bantered back. ‘I did what I did to make Nicole smile. If my antics remind the rest of you what a hotshot lawyer she is so much the better.' ‘Mr. and Mrs. Dyoung, Cáel, Cáel Nyilas, is a joker. He's is also brilliant and just joined Havenstone Commercial Investments in their Executive Services Division,' Nicole bragged. She got points for the 'Executive Services' part. More smirks; some people never learn. ‘Havenstone doesn't employ too many men, does it?' Mrs. Dyoung said. Maybe she was looking for a Discrimination lawsuit. ‘Five men to be precise and two of us are out of the country,' I enlightened her. ‘So you are brilliant,' Mr. Dyoung seemed barely engaged; and was Mrs. Dyoung's Mr. Dyoung. ‘What are your insights on DNA ownership, Cáel?' ‘DNA ownership is a fallacy,' I stated. ‘People are not pigs, soybeans, or corn. You cannot create a financial liability for your offspring because that amounts to slavery and is forbidden by the 14th Amendment to the Constitution. DNA is a person; their blueprint. Only the person owns it and they can't even sell it outright.' ‘That is hopelessly naive,' he snorted. ‘Not really. If you apply an accepted price tag to every human being on Earth, the anarchy will begin. Crimes like murder, torture and mutilation are based on the concept that human life has an unspecified value. Give something a value and you can trade in it.' ‘Murder somebody? How much was their DNA worth?' I postulated. ‘I pay the cost, or somebody pays it for me. You are calling me naïve? I'm not murdering somebody. I'm repossessing their DNA. Mr. Dyoung, I'm not a lawyer, so I am not approaching this from a limited field of vision like you are. I live in the World.' ‘Oddly enough, I've had some recent encounters with real slavery and that has convinced me that I'll go down standing up, thank you very much,' I grinned. ‘In case that was misconstrued; my DNA is mine, no legal precedent will change that and I'm more than willing to put bodies in the ground to keep it so.' ‘You sound like an anarchist,' Mr. Cherrie chimed in. ‘Nope. I'm independent-minded. There is a difference,' I indicated. ‘Just like you, anarchists don't want to let me be me either.' ‘Laws exist for a reason,' Nicole chastised me. What she was really saying was 'you are here for a reason and it isn't entertaining my co-workers'. ‘This is the point where the smart man goes 'yes ma'am, they do',' I nodded to her. ‘Your young man is not stupid,' Mrs. Dyoung chuckled. ‘This young man knows what happens if he behaves,' Nicole bowed to her superior; her boss, not me. ‘Oh goodie,' I rubbed my hands together. ‘Are we about to do some file-sharing?' ‘Something like that,' Nicole laughed and off we went. All I could imagine was that Nicole had to be God's Own lawyer at this firm to get away with the crap we'd just pulled. Honestly, I had other things on my mind. We coasted into her office, with her name etched on the glass door; with the glass walls and floor to ceiling glass windows. Just because, I picked up a water-smoothed stone on her desk; glass houses and all. ‘That is from the Canadian Shield; some of the oldest rocks on Earth,' she told me. ‘You are also going to have one of the most painful hard substance on Earth in your office if we don't do something soon,' I teased. ‘Where do you want to start?' she leaned against her desk. Her office was small, but it was her own. Considering her age, it was another 'she rocks' indicator. ‘Your lips,' I murmured. Nicole liked that. She pushed off the desk enough so our lips could lock. It was very nice. ‘The other lips,' I teased her. She liked that idea even more. Her black, mid-thigh skirt came up, I knelt and decided her scarlet thong was more than skimpy enough for me to work around. I let my hands run along her calves. Nicole hummed out her acclaim and was even happier when I began lifting both legs up. Before long, she was laying on her back, her legs were raised high and spread wide. Nice and easy was replaced by rapidly energetic and fiendishly cunning. Nicole was fighting back the tidal surge of her ecstasy. ‘What are you holding back for?' I slurped around my tongue-lashing. We weren't in a bathroom stall this time. Nicole tilted her head up, gave me a simmer glance then embraced her orgasm. ‘Damn!' she screamed followed by a dozen slightly less vocal 'damns'. I gave her just enough time for me to shed my pants, roll down a prophylactic then I mounted. Had there been any doubt of our forceful ardor, my heroic efforts and Nicole's dynamism shattered them. Half of the lawyers I'd briefly met stopped by and peeked through the glass. I didn't care and Nicole reveled in 'bending the minds' of the onlookers. After a while, her office was not enough. That sofa in the executive reception area? I bent her over the art deco beast and pummeled it, half way across the room. The bathroom? To be gender-equal, we screwed around in the Men's room this time. Nicole and I revisited her erotic fantasy of being bent over in the toilet, sodomized, then completing the act with dispensing of the condom and a glorious blowjob. Our last encounter involved a men's standing urinal, Nicole's legs wrapped around my waist as I gyrated. ‘Oh my God!' she yelped. ‘I've got it. Put me down.' I put her down because the reason I was here was to crack the mental block she had found herself in. Me? I'd come for the sex and Nicole delivered in spades. She had upheld her side of our bargain. Now that I'd reciprocated, it was time for 'hook-up' Nicole to become 'lawyer' Nicole. She made herself somewhat presentable and quick-stepped in back to the conference room. I secured my cock and pants before following. Nicole was babbling in an eldritch dark-tongue similar to Lady Sauron relaying doom to her pack of Nazgûl. They responded with various other arcane invocations until their agreement confirmed that millions of voices had cried out in terror then been suddenly silenced. In my universe, female devotees of Evil were all black leather-clad gorgeous sex kittens who used their dark arts to increase galactic lecherousness. ‘Time to show you out,' Nicole gave me a sultry smirk. ‘Come on.' Arm in arm, we traveled closely to the elevators. ‘Hold the door,' a female voice commanded right as the doors began to shut on the two of us. Nicole put a hand out to keep us from a few more second of alone time. A Caucasian women with short brown hair and a fierce scowl entered first. An imperious damsel came in next. My heart stopped in shock while I barely registered on her radar. A dusky man, nearly my height came in last of all. The doors shut and down we went. I was spending too much time watching the woman and her two bodyguards as we all headed to the door and not enough with Nicole. ‘Don't even think about it, Cáel,' Nicole teased. ‘That's Miss Brianna O'Shea, she leads our client's team and she's totally off limits.' O'Shea pulled a 'Katrina' the moment after Nicole used my name. She spun in place so that she was now facing Nicole and me. ‘What was your name?' she asked with sugary smoothness I associated with Bolivian tourism officials; the nice ones. You know, the ones that thought using a truck battery attached to the jumper cables and your testicles was too much because a car battery would do. ‘Percival Fenris, ma'am,' I introduced myself. ‘I'm a product engineer for Cyberdyne Systems. My team is creating a process that uses constantly recycling colored sugar dust as a medium that will replace current LCD technology. We are calling it Pixie TV.' Nicole was giggling. I was feeling less giggly, mainly because I was staring at my Mother. Not my Mother-mother; the woman who gave birth to me and who had been eaten alive by cancer. No, this was my Mother the way she looked when she was twenty-five and in excellent health. ‘Miss O'Shea, this is Cáel Nyilas. He is a good friend of mine,' Nicole cut through my obfuscation. O'Shea took several steps toward us, away from the exit. Her guardians kept up and were ratcheting up their vigilance. ‘Interesting eyes,' she noted. ‘What is your heritage?' Rude and scary. Even Nicole knew something was incredibly wrong. ‘Cáel, you two have the same eyes,' Nicole mumbled. ‘I was thinking the same thing, Miss Lawless,' Brianna said. Huh? ‘You are a lawyer named Lawless?' I gawked at Nicole. ‘How did that happen?' Why had that not registered when I went to Nicole's office? Oh yeah, her leading me in, eyes pleading for sex. ‘That is not relevant, Mr. Nyilas,' O'Shea kept coming. ‘What do you mean 'not relevant'? Are you saying you'd hire a male escort named Quick-fire Small-Penis?' I wondered. ‘If so, you are a more trusting soul than I.' ‘Why are you avoiding my question?' Brianna queried. ‘Why are you asking questions I clearly don't want to answer?' I retorted. ‘Cáel, please don't antagonize my client's representative,' Nicole was playful yet concerned. ‘No problem Nicole Lawless, Attorney at Law,' I grinned to her. I gave her a secretive ass squeeze then made to leave. Miraculously, Brianna let me slip by. The deceptiveness of that kindness was revealed when I stepped outside and found the limo; with another bodyguard standing beside the front passenger door. O'Shea/Mom's double was hot on my heels. As I turned and headed up the street, she grabbed my right arm. ‘Why don't we go out for a late bite to eat,' she stated. I wasn't being invited. I was being told. ‘No can do,' I shrugged off her hand. ‘I promised my Father to leave a recognizable corpse.' ‘What makes you think I have sinister intentions?' she questioned. There was a lot of that going around; not answering stuff, that is. ‘Why do you assume you aren't giving off the same bad vibe as a half-dozen 18th Street gangbangers on a Meth binge?' I teased. Brianna made a hand signal and the three bruisers put their hands on their guns. The closest to me moved around me to block off that escape route. To be correct, the guy at the car door was African-American, around my height with maybe 10 kg on me. The two guarding O'Shea were a guy of Moorish decent and a woman of the English Midlands. I knew this because I was afraid and making shit up. ‘Was I supposed to be impressed with the quiet appeal of desperation you exhibited by playing patty-cake with yourself,' I kept smiling. ‘Or are these three supposed to scare me?' I chuckled. ‘Here; in downtown Manhattan; one of the few places on the planet Earth trying to rival London in video surveillance.' ‘Video evidence can be altered,' Brianna gave me a wicked gleam. ‘Was that supposed to be your Evil Henchwoman voice?' I kept snickering. ‘If so, get a refund from that mail-order firm you took lessons from,' I grinned. ‘You appear to be rather fearless, and obstinate,' O'Shea nodded. ‘Foolishly so.' ‘Lady, I'm staring into the face of my dead Mother who is trying to get me into a limo with three goombahs who think they are intimidating. They are not,' I pointed out. ‘This whole weekend has been a disaster, so me beating the crap out of those three, you and the driver isn't going to change a damn thing,' I enlightened them. The Moorish guy extended a collapsible cane. ‘You seem very confident,' she informed me. ‘Of course I am,' I stated. ‘You haven't spotted my bodyguard yet, meaning all of you are truly screwed.' ‘Why would you have a bodyguard?' she inquired. ‘Why would you want to know?' I countered. ‘Do you practice being irritating, or is an innate talent?' Brianna regarded me. ‘We can do this 'answering a question with a question' thing all night long, except I have to be at work at six a.m. so how about you tell me what you really want to know and tell me why you look like; screw that; are my Mother's clone,' I sighed. ‘Tell me about your genetic heritage,' O'Shea demanded. She was that kind of authoritative prick; actual penis not required. ‘I apologize. I don't seem to have a handle your native vocabulary and your English-as-a-Second Language skills suck,' I sneered. ‘I should go home now.' Moorish guy blocked my egress. English chick was on my right flank, back to the limo and the street. The most pressing issue was a matter of privilege; O'Shea's people thought they'd get away with breaking the law. The moment the Moor popped out is baton, it was 'on'. A baton is a weapon plus O'Shea and her bodyguard were blocking my exit. I was legally free to attack him now. Normally I was lawfully compelled to exit the scene as opposed to engaging in violence. Since I couldn't run away, I was allowed to kick his ass; and O'Shea and company didn't give a crap. I worked five-plus days a week with people like that. The wavy-red haired, emerald green-eyed O'Shea wasn't the daughter of some Mafioso, or Nigerian Warlord. I didn't know what she was, but she was the many opposites of good news. ‘I imagine you think I didn't notice that Taser,' I addressed the Englishwoman while getting in the Moor's face. ‘That is an unfortunate miscalculation on your part.' ‘See, your dumbass partner, with his wonderful 80 cm tool, has let me get inside his reach. Before he can bring it to bear, I'm going to crush it trachea,' I outlined. ‘Now I have his tool and the whole reach thing is working in reverse. You have a hand-held device with a 10 cm reach and I have one that is 80 cm and the distance to make effective use of it.' ‘Don't worry about the guy at the door. By the time I face you, my bodyguard will lethally wound Miss O'Shea there. In case you missed it, now you are all screwed because your job is to guard her, not suppress me; and you all just failed,' I kept the Moor's eye contact. ‘While this horror crosses your mind, I'll break your hand.' ‘Your buddy isn't coming to help you. He's running to Miss O'Shea because he's supposed to keep her alive and that takes all his time and concentration. You poor driver will get out and, not yet having his situational awareness, my bodyguard will neutralize him. About the same time, I will crack your skull open. This allows me to decide whether, or not to kill Miss O'Shea,' I concluded. All of that was an utter and complete fantasy. Collapsible batons; I'd seen them in a few movies. Tasers? I have been tazed and never, ever want to repeat the process; three separate incidences was enough for me. Did I have a bodyguard close by? I had not asked for one and Havenstone had the sad habit of not telling me a damn thing that concerned my personal survival. On the plus side, I could be a compelling actor, or successful conman. I'm not an actor by the grace of two little words; sex scandal. If I sleep with a girl I want it to be because I've tricked and deceived her, not because she wants to tape us then sell it to the media. That would make me feel degraded; cheapened even. I'm not a conman because they use seduction to get what they want. For me, the seduction IS what I want. Steal their money? That would imply I would never, ever be able to sleep with them again. I couldn't do that and remain true to myself. To prove my point, the Moor looked past me to O'Shea for instructions. I punched him in his Solar Plexus and took his toy as I shoved his breathless form to the sidewalk. The Englishwoman expected me to attack her, just like I'd told her I would. It took her a second to realize I'd played her. By then it was too late. I could flee up the street if I wanted. ‘You attacked my man,' O'Shea noted casually. ‘Well, your ears are dicey, but your eyes are spot-on,' I snorted. ‘Shoot him,' O'Shea was decided to wrap this up. I was ceasing to be amusing. ‘In the legs.' Out came the guns and down went my likelihood of getting out of this intact. Pamela walked out of the building we'd exited a minute ago. She was wearing tight black stretch pants, a red turtleneck and a short beige jacket. ‘Protocols,' Pamela invoked in a bored voice. ‘Define,' O'Shea demanded. ‘Cáel,' Pamela kept her gaze on O'Shea, ‘who do you work for?' ‘Havenstone,' I answered. O'Shea looked from Pamela to me. ‘This does not protect a simple employee,' O'Shea stated. ‘I am invoking the Protocols. This does not require me to explain things to you,' Pamela was cool and relaxed. ‘By all means, if you feel I am abusing the Truce, kick it upstairs and it will be adjudicated.' ‘What is your name?' Brianna O'Shea requested of Pamela. ‘Cáel Nyilas. That is all you need to know,' Pamela smirked. ‘That is not possible,' Brianna gained her own barracuda grin. ‘He is Illuminati business. Look at his eyes.' Pamela laughed. The WHO? Weren't they some kind of Freemasons? ‘He walks away right now unless you explain yourself. He is at Havenstone. Whatever relationship he possessed with the Illuminati ceased when he was hired,' Pamela informed her. ‘Cáel Nyilas, tell me about your Mother,' Brianna commanded. ‘No,' I shrugged. ‘It is a simple enough question,' Miss O'Shea persisted. ‘And it is simply none of your business,' I held my ground. ‘I am her sister,' O'Shea declared. Pamela snorted but otherwise kept silent. ‘Ugh; that was not what I wanted to hear,' I groaned. Pamela snickered. She knew where my mind was. ‘Why should I believe you?' ‘You had your genetic sequence analyzed Thursday, didn't you?' O'Shea said. ‘That was flagged by people working for me because you and I share half of the same DNA.' ‘That's not possible,' Pamela stated in the same way she knew I was a cosmic joke. ‘How is that not possible?' I looked to Pamela. I was really starting to accept me and Homicidal O'Shea were family. Why? I'd never had to confront the incest taboo before and here it was looking right at me. O'Shea looked to Pamela, to me, back to Pamela then finally back at me. ‘Do you have a single clue about what is going on?' Brianna addressed me. ‘Yeah, of course I do,' I lied. ‘You are with the Illuminati and you know Havenstone is more than a bunch of greedy bitches.' Pause. ‘So you know nothing about what is going on here, right at this moment,' O'Shea's eyes skewered me. Sigh. ‘Mom; your sister, is dead;' I got out. ‘Yes, she died seven years ago,' Brianna interrupted. ‘What?' I glared. ‘No, she died fifteen years ago. Where do you get your information from and why didn't you at least check out the fucking gravestone?' I snapped. ‘Fifteen; that doesn't make sense; I didn't know where she died, only that when her medication ran out, she would have been consumed by some kind of aggressive cancer,' O'Shea responded. ‘What;' sort of slipped out. ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?' O'Shea probed. ‘Like I'd tell you,' I growled. ‘None,' Pamela stated. ‘Thanks,' I glared at Pam. ‘Why don't you give away all my bargaining chips?' ‘Cáel, they know your last name,' Pamela stated. ‘Do you want them to hunt down your father and torture him for the names and locations of any other children?' ‘If you go after my Dad;' I became aggressive. ‘You will do nothing,' Pamela interrupted. ‘He is not covered by the Truce.' ‘A Truce I know nothing about,' I grumbled. ‘Screw all of you.' ‘Don't sweat it, Cáel. They need you and I can prove it with two honestly answered question,' Pamela smirked. ‘What name are you using today?' to Brianna. ‘Brianna O'Shea,' the red-haired lady replied. ‘How quaint; your real name. Brianna, how many other nieces and nephews do you and your sisters have?' Pamela inquired. Brianna glared. ‘I'll answer that for her; none. That begs the question of why you,' Pamela smiled at me, ‘exist at all. I'm sure that come Monday morning every medic at Havenstone is going to be crawling all over you looking for that answer.' O'Shea had a new game plan. She was going to murder Pamela and kidnap me. This meant I was going to get screwed up; maybe killed. Pamela would kill everyone else and sex would be extra painful for the next week to ten days; I was tired of that crap. I dropped the baton and walked up to Brianna. The bodyguards were twitching, Brianna was calculating multiple variables and Pamela looked mildly amused. I hugged Brianna. ‘If we are family then we are family,' I explained. ‘If there is something you want to talk to me about, give me a call. I'm in the book and I'm sure Havenstone can patch you through if you want to get in touch with me at work.' Pamela was struggling to contain her mirth. ‘Can you keep this discussion under wraps for now?' Brianna requested. The likelihood of that happening must have showed in my eyes. ‘Okay, who do you work for?' Pamela was laughing into her hand. ‘Umm; I work for Katrina Love of Executive Services,' I answered. O'Shea almost had an embolism. ‘It is okay, my desk is in her office, so we are pretty close.' Not at all what she wanted to hear. ‘Okay, I'll stop teasing you. I know who Katrina is and what she does; basically making people like you have believably fatal accidents.' ‘You are a man? Why are you still walking around free?' O'Shea muttered. ‘His sexual dynamism supersedes the sublimely addictive,' Pamela enlightened O'Shea, ‘and if you don't believe me, go up and ask that 'Nicole Lawless' woman.' ‘I was going to say 'I look great in hose and a push-up bra', but that works too,' I muttered. And the last thing I wanted to envision at that reality-cracking moment happened. Brianna O'Shea looked me over and that look said 'Sex'. She was my aunt! Technically; somehow; that should matter, right? ‘Aunt Brianna; Brianna; Auntie O'Shea; what do you want me to call you?' I stammered. ‘Brianna will do,' she pulled those plush red lips into a grin and extended her hand. I shook it. She had a strong grip. She was tapping the pulse in my wrist with her forefinger; a tried and true arousal technique I'd used countless times. ‘I'm really happy that we are family;' I evaded. ‘I had regular sex with mine and your mother's father, your grandfather,' Brianna discussed with the outrage normally reserved for the 'do you want your cantaloupe in wedges, or scoops' debate. ‘My; we'll just toss that in the category of things I never wanted to know,' I coughed. Wait! I could do better than that. This deserved sympathy, not comedy. ‘I am glad you got that off your chest,' I stroked her hand back; okay, not my brightest idea. ‘Has Grandpa stopped doing that?' ‘Your Grandfather is dead,' Brianna delivered the bad news. It was doubly bad because she seemed to really miss the jack-ass. At least I didn't have to feign grief at the bastard's funeral. This also would explain why Mom ran away from home and told Dad and I that her family all perished in a freak Sperm Whale hunting accident in the Arctic. You know, that sounded much more believable when I was five. Dad was crazy in love, which explained his suspension of disbelief whenever she walked in the room. ‘He was assassinated in his study in our mountain home, his throat slit clean through and his body desecrated beyond our ability to resurrect him,' Brianna shed a tear. This was the point where I seriously began worrying about there being a natural gas leak that was either screwing up what I was hearing, or what other people were saying. ‘Wow; how sad,' I tried to sound shaken by the news. ‘I know,' Brianna hugged me. But wait, ‘You smell like him (deep, sensual purr); Dad, that is.' Oh God No! ‘Well with Granddad gone, you seem to have done well for yourself; lves,' I corrected. It sounded like I had aunts in the plural, I was praying for the positive, plus a quick exit. ‘No, we can't move on until we find the assassin,' Brianna told me. She added in a whisper, ‘We know she was an Amazon.' Ah, look, an invitation by my freakish, incestuous aunt to betray the insane fanatics I worked for. I began crying. ‘I understand,' Brianna reached around and patted my back, ‘This must be a lot for you to take in.' ‘You have no idea,' I sniffled. What was my mind was saying: 'By the way, Aunt Brianna, the wacked-out chick that offed Granddad is two meters away from you and you definitely didn't bring a big enough army to deal with her'. ‘Why don't you come home with me tonight?' Brianna offered somewhat plaintively. Sex; worse, I wasn't coming up with any really convincing reasons to not have sex with her. We would do it with the lights off. That way I wouldn't be looking into the face of the Mother of my youth having an orgasm impaled on me. Maybe dim lighting would be okay too. ‘I can't go home with you tonight,' I looked away. ‘I'm feeling vulnerable.' That was exactly why she wanted to take me home with her; confused and vulnerable would allow her to revisit her nostalgic Father-Daughter fornications. ‘You need someone who loves you to look after you,' Brianna prodded. ‘That's what I'm for,' Pamela came to my rescue. Glares and snippets of wrath ensued. In the end, Pamela and I made our getaway. A few blocks away; I didn't want a taxi yet; Pamela speaking voided my introspection. ‘Questions?' ‘Where were you hiding while Nicole and I were having sex?' I mused. ‘Which time?' Pamela taunted me. ‘You mean you followed us to the Men's bathroom (we were reliving our first sexual encounter and then some)?' I groused. ‘I am not saying I was there. I'm not saying I wasn't. I'm not saying,' Pamela smirked. Pause. ‘You killed Grandpa?' I asked. ‘Yes.' ‘You stole his soul?' ‘Yes.' ‘You took yourself to the cliffs to destroy his soul; and yours?' ‘Yes.' ‘You decided not to because of his curse/warning?' ‘No.' ‘Um; why didn't you kill yourself?' ‘He; your Grandfather; had a back-up plan. Having me kill myself was a ploy. Had I done it, I would have lost my soul, his soul would have been released and Havenstone would have thought him dead. At the last moment I gained the insight he had a body already prepared for him that no other person knew about,' Pamela informed me. ‘You.' ‘My Mother didn't know?' I worried. ‘I am not sure. Most likely she thought she had escaped the Old Bastard.' ‘Ugh; family life around Christmas must have been a blast,' I grumbled. ‘The Illuminati make a mockery of the Cult of Christ. They have influenced the Catholic hierarchy for a millennia.' ‘How did she get away; if she got away?' I muttered. ‘Your Mother and Aunts were born to be slaves, but contained nearly all the DNA of your Grandfather; essentially female 'hims'. That meant they are all very, very smart so your Mother figured out a way and fled. Somehow she found your Father and happiness.' ‘He let her get away, didn't he?' I asked. ‘Don't sell your Mother short,' Pamela chided me. ‘He most likely engineered her escape from his estate, but the rest was her. Otherwise, you would have had Illuminati watchers all this time. No, your Grandfather wanted her to be completely free of the Illuminati, and all the other secret orders, until he was ready to make his return.' ‘Why did Brianna think Mom died of cancer seven years ago?' I went for next. ‘All your aunts need medication to keep them healthy and young,' Pamela related. ‘The only one with the formula was your Grandfather and, after so many decades, those bitches have to be running out of it soon, if they haven't already exhausted their supply.' ‘Without the drugs, your Mother would have aged and developed various cancers that would have escalated in their aggression until she died. For some reason, she stopped taking her medications before they ran out,' Pamela ruminated. ‘To have me,' I lowered my head. Mom had died because she knew Dad wanted a child; me. ‘It is not impossible that she couldn't have a child while on the regimen. That sounds like something that bastard Cáel O'Shea would have done,' Pamela agreed. ‘What?' I gulped. ‘You were named after your maternal grandfather, who I studied for weeks, and I can tell you that Cáel Nyilas is a hundred times the person he ever was,' Pamela assured me. ‘Let's not tell my aunt that,' I grunted. ‘Don't worry about that,' Pamela patted me on the back. ‘All of your aunts are most likely addicted to his pheromones and you have some variant of them.' ‘The fuck you say!' I gawked. ‘Oh yeah. He was that kind of son of a bitch.' ‘So when I get scared, they get horny?' I despaired. ‘Or if you are your regular horny self,' Pamela chortled. ‘Hell, Brianna is probably humping that urinal you and Miss Lawless engaged as a; prop earlier this evening.' ‘You are just a cornucopia of horrific knowledge, aren't you?' I groused. ‘I've never had a friend like you,' Pamela enlightened me. ‘You've never had a friend before,' I countered. I hadn't known her a week and I already wanted to kill her half the time as it was. I wondered if women felt the same way about me on occasion. ‘That would definitely make you my finest friend then,' she snickered. ‘Thanks,' I grumbled. ‘Just for that, when I have Daphne bent over with her head and shoulders pressed against the wall while I slam her from behind with all this pent up rage, I'll be thinking of you.' ‘Really?' she queried. ‘Of course not. Daphne is smoking hot. When I finally have sex with her, the only thing I'll be thinking about besides Daphne is how I'm going to have sex with her again,' I grinned. ‘Good,' she smiled happily. Yes, we were talking about me boinking her granddaughter and she was A-Okay with it. ‘Remember, there is no need to use a condom.' ‘I'm not falling for that, you evil witch

Emergency Council Makes Bold Move.. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “You may outrun your sins, but never forget that someone will pay the toll.”  I biked home, brushing a city bus and a BMW getting there. On the landing between the second and third floors I found an Amazon with baleful eyes; waiting. In front of my door was her psychic twin. ‘Can I get you and/or your cohort anything?' I politely inquired. Yesterday; the cold shoulder. ‘Thank you for the consideration. We will wait until our itinerary is clarified,' she nodded. I went in, catching the abrupt cut off of some 'O' talk. 'O', as in Odette and Oneida. They were on the sofa, half-turned to face each other when I walked in. Oneida stood and gave the standard Amazon respectful nod. ‘Oneida was all screwed up inside about last night in the Park, so I was explaining some of the basic tenants of BDSM to her,' Odette blithely blathered. ‘BDSM? What do you know about BDSM? I barely know about it and I've been having non-stop sex for years,' I exclaimed. ‘Cáel of Ishara, did you do those things to Rhada in an effort to fulfill her dreams?' Oneida desperately pleaded. Worse, it was spoken in English. ‘I can't talk about it,' I replied. ‘That is 'Cáel' for 'yes',' Odette intruded. ‘I began reading up on BDSM after you got the suspension rig,' was her saucy response to me. ‘Would you ever do that to me?' Oneida gave me those big doe-eyes as she sat down. No, she didn't want a rape fantasy. That kind of submission wasn't her thing. I paced around, stomped into the kitchen then back to the living room. ‘No Oneida, I would never do something like that to you,' I promised. ‘I like having sex; a whole bunch. I like the women I'm with to have a great time too.' ‘That means I figure out what really excites her and provide it because I normally want to have sex with that girl again,' I explained, neglecting the 'and again and again and again.' ‘Is it over between you two?' Oneida asked. She meant Rhada and me. ‘Oneida, did I ask you to come over today?' I countered. ‘Have I upset you?' Oneida's lower lip trembled. 'Yes' would make things so much easier. ‘No,' I lied. ‘Let's look at this from another angle. How would you feel if Paula showed up at your domicile unannounced? You walked in and there she was.' ‘Oh,' she stood up again. ‘I apologize.' At this moment, saying nothing meant she'd leave. I'm an idiot. ‘Do you want to stay for dinner?' I offered. It took a few seconds for Oneida to forgive herself enough to accept my suggestion. Me raping Rhada less than 24 hours ago? We'd deal with that later, or so she promised herself. ‘Okay; if it is not too much trouble,' Oneida nodded. In came the doom and gloom duo and we ordered some over-sized sandwiches from an Italian Deli two blocks away. After the two walked through my place (again, I was sure) and the food arrived, the bodyguards relaxed into a close proximity of human beings. The freakishness continued as Odette bonded with the Amazon killers with tales of my sexual exploits. At the same time, I romanced Oneida in half a dozen languages. Storming those gates was going to take more time than I normally gave a single sexual encounter. Oneida kissed me. She loved kissing me. She was ecstatic about kissing me. She made it real clear there would be not petting; yet. Penetration wasn't even on the (her) agenda. This didn't meant I was accepting her marching orders. I was far craftier than that. My plan was one of 'setting an example'. I stood up; we were sitting on the bench press seat, shot Odette a sexy look then went to the kitchenette. We got something; whatever it was wasn't important. The crucial activity was my surrounding Odette in my arms from behind. I kissed her neck, Odette wiggled her ass against my crotch and murmured happily. More kissing along the neck, ear and jawline ensued. Odette exhaled a happy breath, and twisted around in my grasp until we were face to face. An exhaustive French kiss finishing up with a few light pecks and led to us rubbing noses like Inuit. ‘Thanks buddy,' I smiled warmly at Odette. ‘She blue-balling ya?' Odette snickered. ‘Big time,' I muttered. Odette squiggled down my body then bit both my nipples through my shirt making me gasp. ‘That should do nicely,' Odette's eyes were alight and she was super-pleased with herself. She smacked my ass then returned to the living room. I returned to Oneida. After a few seconds, ‘Does it disturb you to be treated like that?' Oneida murmured. ‘Like what?' I sounded so innocent. Trust me; this is a crucial relationship tool. ‘Like; like we would treat one of our males,' she looked for my reaction. I laughed. ‘The critical difference is that I can say 'no',' I smiled. ‘Oneida, do you think the original Ash Men spent every moment not in battle, contemplating their place in the Universe?' Clearly, she had. ‘Believe me, men hunted, worked their crafts and chased female Amazons when they weren't eating, or sleeping.' ‘Warfare is an emotional undertaking,' I had read that somewhere. ‘You can believe that with the battle safely won, your ancestors and my ancestors fooled around. They sang songs, wrote poetry, and created artwork for the ladies they courted. They wanted the attention of the strongest, bravest and most courageous mates, just like your ancestors did.' ‘I think I do know something about the Ash Men you don't,' I prodded her. ‘What? I have studied them for many years,' Oneida was now more engaged. ‘What can you tell me about Vranus?' I asked. That stumped her. ‘I; nothing is written of his exploits,' Oneida admitted. ‘We know he was a young warrior for Ishara.' ‘Think about this, Oneida; Vranus was only twenty yet a member of the Host,' I started. She nodded. ‘He is shown with twin axes; no shield and no bow. That means he had to be very brave, rushing through the initial exchange of arrow fire and thrown spears to attack his enemy. His House probably directed him to large clumps of opponents, breaking their formations for the Host to exploit.' ‘That means he fought alone for several seconds until his accompanying Amazons could pick apart his foe,' I explained. ‘That must have been horrible,' Oneida frowned. ‘Not at all,' I protested. ‘He was trusted with a crucial task; to hold the enemy's focus so the faster moving Amazons could attack their foe from multiple directions at once.' ‘The Amazons of House Ishara must have been very proud of him,' I fluffed out the fantasy. ‘From what you saw from my two exhibition with twin axes, it is very tiring. Vranus had to have absolute confidence his sisters were coming for him. They trusted one another, thus fighting as one organic unit. It was a synergy that included the best of both genders.' That last bit confused her. ‘Back then, most of the Host would have been of the same genetic stock from the time of the First Betrayal. Short and fast. The males of the region they took over were taller; the local men being even taller than the local women. That means you give men heavier and longer weapons. Your people would have favored bows, light shields and short spears; ranged, or quick in and out tools.' Was any of that true? Not a history major, so I have no clue. ‘Many of the Host at the time rode horses yet there are also pictures of them forming battle lines,' Oneida enlightened me then her own eyes expanded. ‘Males are always shown with solid round shields while the Host; women had the oval wicker shields.' ‘Lacking stirrups, the Amazons may have used the men to grapple with the enemy then rode their horses around the flanks, dismounted and engaged their opponents from the rear; Amazon style,' I grinned. It was. Amazons were all about out-maneuvering and confounding their foes. The Amazons hadn't been callous with their males' lives. At one time, chosen females had held the center line. Over time, as males joined, it was practical to adapt the solid wooden shields of their opponents for their own males and put them in the place where their upper body strength and size were of best effect. The unknown older male with Vranus had probably held his place in the battle line dozens of times. I doubt he complained, or even thought to complain. Who would have taken his place? A smaller sister, aunt, or daughter? Had other males objected? Sure, the battle line in Amazon tactics was not the place of glory. The striking arm were the horse-riders. Countless times adversaries had spent the last minutes of their lives with the echoes of horses, hooves and female Amazon war cries seemingly all around them. Some wise old dead fucker once said 'defeat starts in the mind'. I wholeheartedly believed in that; except my version was 'having sex with me starts with my insidious nature'. ‘Defeat starts in the mind,' I stared intently into Oneida's eyes. Love poetry is a matter of emotional context, not actual words. I pulled Oneida to me, letting her straddle my lap because I desperately wanted her to understand my tortured soul. Grinding her vulva against my hard-on was totally accidental, as was our renewed French kiss and me grabbing two handfuls of her ass. There was no rushing of things. Oneida was a skittish mare and I had to keep her feeling safe despite her sexual peril. Any woman who bothers to get to know me knows I am not a complicated guy. Case in point: by the time Oneida was feeding me her left nipple, Odette already had the security types sweep my bedroom (again) then the three retreated to Timothy's room and shut the door. Were Oneida's guardians worried about Oneida's carnal violation? No, why would they? Amazons had dick on demand. Virginity didn't hold any religious significance for them; killing things did. With the speed and efficiency those other two Amazons made themselves scarce, I imagined they were happy that Oneida had stopped mooning over me and getting a good grip on reality. A righteous dicking was in the offing. Oneida's open eyed, opened-mouth countenance when she found herself naked on my bed with a naked me hovering over her was precious. That look always was. It did necessitate a question. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?' I whispered. My aroused cock brushed along her thigh. The question was a courtesy. The answer was always the same because girls want to have sex. They also want to believe they have a say in the process from beginning to end. I say 'believe' because sex done right is passion and passion is the rejection of reason. At some point in the seduction, intercourse becomes an avalanche. Logic can scream all it wants; the hormones are not listening. I slipped into Oneida's velvety liquid embrace. She gave up a sigh of relief. She'd made the jump into intimacy. Any other explanation for what was going to happen would have implicated me as a 'Player'; which everyone else thought I was. Oneida had this romantic ideal of me that no amount of evidence appeared to shatter. Personally, I was starting to dread ever going to her bedroom. I wasn't sure of her 'My Little Pony' comforter would be a turn-off for me. I had done in it on Pocahontas and The Little Mermaid, so odds were I'd pull through in the clinch. ‘I am not hurting you, am I?' I moaned. Said for emotional impact alone. If I was causing a girl pain, I would have stopped first. ‘No,' happy murmuring, ‘I'm wonderful.' The most powerful organ human's possess is the brain. Oneida was a 'talker'. She wanted to express her feelings during intercourse; not give to directions, but as an effort to increase her participation in the sex act itself. Slow, steady strokes followed, withdrawing my glans half way along her labia, moved up and down slightly then gradually pushed back in. Every entry held something new for her. I added to the process by tilting her thigh and leg forward so that my next penetration tantalized a whole new series of trigger points in her cunny. On the next pass, Oneida began her own experimentations, twisting and adjusting the angle of her hips as I worked my rod in and out. Oneida began crying. I wasn't upset and that didn't make me a callous bastard. She was shedding tears of joy and regret; joy because her first climax was in the offing; regret because she wish she had done this with me sooner. She had been a Havenstone employee so we hadn't done the deed. We still had to keep our liaison secret. Why? I'd think of something. The real reason was pure politics. I never knew what wacky dame hated another wacky dame for reasons I couldn't even get into, but I knew it would curtail my dating opportunities. I'd pay the price of deception later. What I couldn't take was being denied sex without having done anything wrong first. ‘Am I making you happy?' Oneida gasped. No flippancy here; romance was the key. ‘You demand things from me few other women do,' I replied breathlessly. I wasn't going to lie to her. Prettying up the truth was good enough and it made her happy. I also got something new; to her, not to me. She orgasmed. Whatever she'd been satisfied with before, I obliterated in a few quick, decisive strokes. Oh God; did she go off! It has happened to me before; the door being kicked in; just not in mid-orgasm. Guns being pointed at yours truly while the girl was in mid-scream was new. And Oneida was still carrying on and on. ‘I was trying to tell you!' Odette was screaming. ‘He does that to us all the time; please don't shoot him.' The whole 'girl screaming at me in Old Kingdom Hittite' was also new. My mentor preferred Minoan. ‘I have come back from Death,' Oneida rasped. Her skin was flushed deep red from her exertion, she had bathed us both in sweat and she was coming up with any form of vocalization from Goddess-knows where she had screamed for so long. She looked at me with love in her eyes; damn it. She looked and looked and looked and; finally noticed the two women at the foot of the bed. ‘Is; some; thing; wrong?' Oneida panted while gazing at her two guardians with worry.  ‘You may outrun your sins, but never forget that someone will pay the toll.' There was someone pounding on my apartment door. ‘Neighbor; door; I'm on it,' Odette called out. Seconds later the deadbolts clicked and the door opened. ‘Hello, Mr. Finnes.' ‘You God-damn Whore!' he screamed. ‘Where is that homo and his butt-buddy? The cops are on their way and this time you are all in the street.' He had a good head of steam on tonight. Slayer of Testicles #1 looked at Slayer of Testicles #2, nodded and left. ‘Who is this bitch,' Finnes got out. It was so wrong that I recognized the next sound. It was the barrel of a gun being inserted into a person's mouth. ‘Listen and listen carefully,' SoT#1 spoke softly. ‘You are going back to your hovel. If I get word, or even a bad premonition, that you are causing this apartment a hint of worry, I am going to come back and end you in a fashion the New York City's Coroner's Office will find memorable.' ‘I do not care if you have to puncture both eardrums to drown out the noise. I am not a compassionate person. In fact, I am considered sadistic by those who know me well. Now go back home, tell the police who show up this was all a mistake and give a prayer of thanks to whatever deity you grovel before that I didn't simply ram my firearm up your anus and decorate the ceiling in what passes for brains in your pathetic bone-sack of a body,' she menaced. There was a choking/gagging noise then the sound of heaving. ‘Mr. Finnes; are you okay?' Odette worried. As a wonderful counter-point. ‘Have you given me your seed?' Oneida asked hopefully. I was still hard. It had only been ten minutes of sex after all. I gently rocked my penis deeper in. ‘Oh,' she happily babbled. ‘Again?' SoT#2 questioned. I made a few more penetration cycles instead of speaking. ‘Do they train you in some sort of Sex Academy for this? Are there more males out there like you?' ‘Is having a viewing gallery a real damper on the mood?' I asked her while looking into Oneida's eyes. I was actually proud of Oneida for not sending the other woman away. It showed me she respected the woman's job. I also heard the apartment door shut. ‘Wow, your threat was nice and spooky,' Odette snickered. ‘Threat? Child, what do you think I do for a living?' SoT#1 asked. ‘You are one of those wacko, psycho-chicks Cáel Nyilas works with,' Odette was undoubtedly smiling. ‘Correct, I am one of those wacko, psycho-chicks;' SoT#1 left that hanging out there. ‘You weren't playing with Mr. Finnes, were you?' Odette grew quiet. Pause. ‘There is really a job which allows you to do that kind of stuff?' Pause. ‘Can I apply?' ‘This is not something you apply;' SoT#1 began, but then, ‘I guess if Cáel wants to; ‘ ‘Cool,' Odette was truly irrepressible. ‘If he does that, there will definitely be consequences and repercussions,' SoT#1 cautioned. ‘Oh, I think I had better stick with being his fuck-buddy,' Odette conceded. ‘Wise choice,' SoT#1 agreed. My bedroom door shut. SoT#2 had slipped out. Do you often have sex with an audience?' I teased Oneida. ‘Yes,' she answered matter-of-factly, ‘I do. Don't you?' ‘Now that you mention it;' and I got back to the pleasure that encompasses so much of my life. Sunday Night. ‘Cáel,' a voice purred over my phone. ‘Hey Nicole,' I greeted my lawyer not-quite a hook-up anymore. Also, unless you are Sure you know the female caller, don't take a gamble with the name. ‘So, do you have something going on tonight?' she queried. ‘Nope. My normal engagement had to cancel so I'm sitting back with some friends who do not appreciate the depth of my depravity,' I sighed. ‘Canceled?' She laughed. ‘On you? Have your recovered from the shock?' ‘Actually, they had a death in the family and had to go to South Carolina,' I explained. ‘Oh; sorry,' Nicole apologized. ‘Well, if you are feeling lonely and neglected, you could come by work and do me a favor.' ‘I am feeling neither lonely, nor neglected, but I am certainly missing you right now. Give me a half hour and I'll be there,' I promised. She thanked me and hung up. ‘Who is it this time?' Odette snickered. Man, I was becoming so used to her hanging around. ‘Nicole the lawyer,' I replied. I trekked back to my bedroom to prep. I opted for the 'Bad Boy' look; worn jeans, high-top tennis shoes (equally worn), my Plant Smashers t-shirt (Quebecois ska band; yes, I will road-trip to another country for sex) and my Bolingbrook bomber jacket. Yes, I was going to an Ivy League Law firm dressed like a carjacker. Every other male was going to be dressed in finely-tailored silk and I had to stand out. Since I couldn't outspend them, I was going to make them look like effete pussies by dressing like I just didn't care what anyone thought. I was coming over to screw Nicole and there would be no doubt about it. ‘Isn't that chick rich?' Timothy teased me. ‘Yeah. I'm packing the glow in the dark Trojans tonight; cause she's special,' I grinned. ‘Oh! I love those,' Odette squealed. She really needed to trust me less. I walked over, cupped her ears with my hand then kissed her on the forehead. I did the same to Timothy. His look suggested that I had best make a hasty exit before he kicked my ass. I caught a taxi a block away. It turned out he was from Qatar and he asked if I was sure about the address I gave him. I grinned then told him I could outrun 95% of the yPD so was feeling good about my chances. He snorted, countering with 'If you were an Arab, they'd shoot you.' Not to be outdone, 'I'd claim to be a Syrian anti-government protester; you know, because we all look alike to these Caucasians'. We laughed for a bit then he said he had a younger sister back in the homeland. I insisted I was immoral; a wicked man. 'Was I religious?' 'Only when it suited my purposes.' 'Would I consider converting to Sunni Islam?' 'Only if the girl was cute enough.' He showed me her picture; dammit, she had a really beautiful face. I got her name, his name and the name of his mosque. I considered it. Yahweh, Christ, Bacchus (wine, an orgy and 'bull' testicles; long story) and Jehovah all had reasons to barbeque my ass already. Why not add Allah to the mix, besides it being an incredibly stupid thing to do for a man in constant mortal peril like me? In theory, three of the four definitely had the possibility to be the same Omniscient and Omnipotent Galactic Being so the odds were I wouldn't get too much more screwed. I finished up my journey imagining Buffy in a burqa. That evolved into a vision of me being force-fed a burqa; in private; where no one could hear my muffled cries for help. Buffy; murdering me; made me horny. I am a sick puppy. ‘Buffy,' I called her as I paid the cabbie. ‘What; huh; are you okay, Cáel?' Buffy muttered. ‘Yes, I'm fine. I was dreaming of you and decided to give you a call,' I related in a sleepy voice. ‘Oh;' she sounded affectionate. ‘Yeah. In the dream you were murdering me. It was so romantic; so you,' I related. ‘Shit-for-brains, do you have any idea what time it is?' Buffy turned all savage in an instant. ‘Hmm; 11:45?' I offered up. ‘Call me this late again when it is not an emergency and your dream will become a reality,' she growled. ‘You know you sound so;' and she hung up on me. I called Nicole and warned her I was at her building, pursued by two FDIC investigators and could she please come and rescue me. She snickered, came down and retrieved me, but not before the yPD stopped by for a casual conversation and I hadn't even been standing there two minutes. In my neighborhood you were lucky if you saw a patrol car every thirty minutes and short of offering them some crack cocaine, cheap nookie, or shooting a gun off, they never stopped. Was I my normally fuck-wad self? No. I told the man/woman team the truth. Some upper crust weenies I worked with dragged me off to Yuppie Hell. I hooked up with a lawyer who I screwed repeatedly in the Women's bathroom and she was calling me for round 2. Second question (the first one was name/ID/reason for being in this part of town dressed like I was)? Was she paying me? 'No'. Was I practicing safe sex (female cop; married even)? 'Yes'. Was she the red-head at the door behind me? 'Yes she was and goodnight.' ‘What are you dressed like that for?' Nicole smiled. In her mind she already knew the answer; I had come here to screw her; raw and primal. ‘Ballroom dancing was not on the itinerary you gave me,' I smiled. We went inside. ‘My co-workers are still here,' she hinted seductively. ‘Whoa now!' I protested humorously. ‘I am not here to pull a train; girls only.' Nicole nearly fell over laughing. She was so embarrassed by me and my attire, she dragged me straight to the conference room 'her' team was working out of. Everyone else was eating. Two of the lawyers were clearly the top dogs; a man and a woman. The woman had a vague resemblance to one of the portraits I'd seen coming in; a legacy. The man screamed 'serial killer'. It probably made him one hell of a lawyer, but spooky to live with, or work for. The other nine people in the room were in two groups. Two were obviously paralegals. They dressed in what must have started out as clean, starched clothing from off the rack as opposed to tailored. The other seven were lawyers in their own dual set-up. My amateur guess was two different branches of law. This group was dressed in fine clothes now wrinkled from a long day's work, plus it was a Sunday. They were not at their best yet they were still better than most of what I had. The most endearing part was how they looked at me. Even the female contingent thought that I was trash. I had certainly given them the opportunity. Seriously, they should have paid more attention to Nicole, her intelligence, competence and tastes. Come on now; there was no way she'd bring some grease-monkey from Flatbush to her workplace. They needed to engage their brains and not their social bias. A murmur slithered through the crowd. Amusement and condescension were the clear messages shot my way. I imagine the poor soul who delivered the food got less crap because he/she was providing a tangible service. ‘Nicole, who is this?' the woman asked. Sex. Outside of her being a soulless cancer on the hopes and dreams of mankind, she was an alluring forty-something. ‘This is my friend Cáel;' Nicole began, both her arms wrapped around my right arm. ‘Cáel Belafonte,' I interrupted. You could tell who the trial lawyers in the room were. Their expressions told me they knew I was lying. ‘Fascinating Mr. Belafonte,' Mr. Serial-Killer droned on. ‘What do you do?' ‘I am an Ichthyologist,' I met his gaze. ‘I'm involved in a twenty year study to determine the cause for the reduction in the size of Tuna fish scales.' That had them stumped. ‘That sounds like yet another great waste of government funds,' a young male lawyer with more bravado than combat-sex experience fired off. ‘Oh,' I shrugged. ‘Smaller scales, smaller full-sized Tuna, a spike in tuna prices and an eventual world-wide restriction on Tuna fishing, similar to the one currently covering virtually all whale species. Now, I doubt you know which people will decide who the recipient of those lucrative Tuna contracts will be, but I do. By all means; mock what you don't understand.' ‘Government research project results will be in the public domain,' a woman joined the struggle. ‘Yes; and?' I asked in a bland tone. ‘Your research will be available to all kinds of commercial concerns,' male asshat grinned. ‘Your ability to show that you are as smart as any pre-law student must make someone, somewhere very proud,' I grinned back. Confused looks. Nicole was struggling to keep it together. ‘He never said he was in any manner part of the government, or a government program, Mr. Cherrie,' the female lead barracuda gave me her own hungry look. The guy looked pissed. ‘Oh, Mr. Belafonte, are you a private researcher, or a government one?' she female junior lawyer asked. ‘Heather Pulaski,' she gave her name. ‘Call me Cáel, Heather, and I am in no way associated with any government, I barely know what an Ichthyologist is and I'm certainly not one. Rude, arrogant people annoy me when they treat my friends like they are stupid; especially when they should know better. I can rarely stop myself from ridiculing them,' I grinned. ‘And now you think you are better than everyone else in the room for tricking us with this juvenile prank,' the Serial Killer sounded bored. ‘No. The lives of strangers are not my concern,' I bantered back. ‘I did what I did to make Nicole smile. If my antics remind the rest of you what a hotshot lawyer she is so much the better.' ‘Mr. and Mrs. Dyoung, Cáel, Cáel Nyilas, is a joker. He's is also brilliant and just joined Havenstone Commercial Investments in their Executive Services Division,' Nicole bragged. She got points for the 'Executive Services' part. More smirks; some people never learn. ‘Havenstone doesn't employ too many men, does it?' Mrs. Dyoung said. Maybe she was looking for a Discrimination lawsuit. ‘Five men to be precise and two of us are out of the country,' I enlightened her. ‘So you are brilliant,' Mr. Dyoung seemed barely engaged; and was Mrs. Dyoung's Mr. Dyoung. ‘What are your insights on DNA ownership, Cáel?' ‘DNA ownership is a fallacy,' I stated. ‘People are not pigs, soybeans, or corn. You cannot create a financial liability for your offspring because that amounts to slavery and is forbidden by the 14th Amendment to the Constitution. DNA is a person; their blueprint. Only the person owns it and they can't even sell it outright.' ‘That is hopelessly naive,' he snorted. ‘Not really. If you apply an accepted price tag to every human being on Earth, the anarchy will begin. Crimes like murder, torture and mutilation are based on the concept that human life has an unspecified value. Give something a value and you can trade in it.' ‘Murder somebody? How much was their DNA worth?' I postulated. ‘I pay the cost, or somebody pays it for me. You are calling me naïve? I'm not murdering somebody. I'm repossessing their DNA. Mr. Dyoung, I'm not a lawyer, so I am not approaching this from a limited field of vision like you are. I live in the World.' ‘Oddly enough, I've had some recent encounters with real slavery and that has convinced me that I'll go down standing up, thank you very much,' I grinned. ‘In case that was misconstrued; my DNA is mine, no legal precedent will change that and I'm more than willing to put bodies in the ground to keep it so.' ‘You sound like an anarchist,' Mr. Cherrie chimed in. ‘Nope. I'm independent-minded. There is a difference,' I indicated. ‘Just like you, anarchists don't want to let me be me either.' ‘Laws exist for a reason,' Nicole chastised me. What she was really saying was 'you are here for a reason and it isn't entertaining my co-workers'. ‘This is the point where the smart man goes 'yes ma'am, they do',' I nodded to her. ‘Your young man is not stupid,' Mrs. Dyoung chuckled. ‘This young man knows what happens if he behaves,' Nicole bowed to her superior; her boss, not me. ‘Oh goodie,' I rubbed my hands together. ‘Are we about to do some file-sharing?' ‘Something like that,' Nicole laughed and off we went. All I could imagine was that Nicole had to be God's Own lawyer at this firm to get away with the crap we'd just pulled. Honestly, I had other things on my mind. We coasted into her office, with her name etched on the glass door; with the glass walls and floor to ceiling glass windows. Just because, I picked up a water-smoothed stone on her desk; glass houses and all. ‘That is from the Canadian Shield; some of the oldest rocks on Earth,' she told me. ‘You are also going to have one of the most painful hard substance on Earth in your office if we don't do something soon,' I teased. ‘Where do you want to start?' she leaned against her desk. Her office was small, but it was her own. Considering her age, it was another 'she rocks' indicator. ‘Your lips,' I murmured. Nicole liked that. She pushed off the desk enough so our lips could lock. It was very nice. ‘The other lips,' I teased her. She liked that idea even more. Her black, mid-thigh skirt came up, I knelt and decided her scarlet thong was more than skimpy enough for me to work around. I let my hands run along her calves. Nicole hummed out her acclaim and was even happier when I began lifting both legs up. Before long, she was laying on her back, her legs were raised high and spread wide. Nice and easy was replaced by rapidly energetic and fiendishly cunning. Nicole was fighting back the tidal surge of her ecstasy. ‘What are you holding back for?' I slurped around my tongue-lashing. We weren't in a bathroom stall this time. Nicole tilted her head up, gave me a simmer glance then embraced her orgasm. ‘Damn!' she screamed followed by a dozen slightly less vocal 'damns'. I gave her just enough time for me to shed my pants, roll down a prophylactic then I mounted. Had there been any doubt of our forceful ardor, my heroic efforts and Nicole's dynamism shattered them. Half of the lawyers I'd briefly met stopped by and peeked through the glass. I didn't care and Nicole reveled in 'bending the minds' of the onlookers. After a while, her office was not enough. That sofa in the executive reception area? I bent her over the art deco beast and pummeled it, half way across the room. The bathroom? To be gender-equal, we screwed around in the Men's room this time. Nicole and I revisited her erotic fantasy of being bent over in the toilet, sodomized, then completing the act with dispensing of the condom and a glorious blowjob. Our last encounter involved a men's standing urinal, Nicole's legs wrapped around my waist as I gyrated. ‘Oh my God!' she yelped. ‘I've got it. Put me down.' I put her down because the reason I was here was to crack the mental block she had found herself in. Me? I'd come for the sex and Nicole delivered in spades. She had upheld her side of our bargain. Now that I'd reciprocated, it was time for 'hook-up' Nicole to become 'lawyer' Nicole. She made herself somewhat presentable and quick-stepped in back to the conference room. I secured my cock and pants before following. Nicole was babbling in an eldritch dark-tongue similar to Lady Sauron relaying doom to her pack of Nazgûl. They responded with various other arcane invocations until their agreement confirmed that millions of voices had cried out in terror then been suddenly silenced. In my universe, female devotees of Evil were all black leather-clad gorgeous sex kittens who used their dark arts to increase galactic lecherousness. ‘Time to show you out,' Nicole gave me a sultry smirk. ‘Come on.' Arm in arm, we traveled closely to the elevators. ‘Hold the door,' a female voice commanded right as the doors began to shut on the two of us. Nicole put a hand out to keep us from a few more second of alone time. A Caucasian women with short brown hair and a fierce scowl entered first. An imperious damsel came in next. My heart stopped in shock while I barely registered on her radar. A dusky man, nearly my height came in last of all. The doors shut and down we went. I was spending too much time watching the woman and her two bodyguards as we all headed to the door and not enough with Nicole. ‘Don't even think about it, Cáel,' Nicole teased. ‘That's Miss Brianna O'Shea, she leads our client's team and she's totally off limits.' O'Shea pulled a 'Katrina' the moment after Nicole used my name. She spun in place so that she was now facing Nicole and me. ‘What was your name?' she asked with sugary smoothness I associated with Bolivian tourism officials; the nice ones. You know, the ones that thought using a truck battery attached to the jumper cables and your testicles was too much because a car battery would do. ‘Percival Fenris, ma'am,' I introduced myself. ‘I'm a product engineer for Cyberdyne Systems. My team is creating a process that uses constantly recycling colored sugar dust as a medium that will replace current LCD technology. We are calling it Pixie TV.' Nicole was giggling. I was feeling less giggly, mainly because I was staring at my Mother. Not my Mother-mother; the woman who gave birth to me and who had been eaten alive by cancer. No, this was my Mother the way she looked when she was twenty-five and in excellent health. ‘Miss O'Shea, this is Cáel Nyilas. He is a good friend of mine,' Nicole cut through my obfuscation. O'Shea took several steps toward us, away from the exit. Her guardians kept up and were ratcheting up their vigilance. ‘Interesting eyes,' she noted. ‘What is your heritage?' Rude and scary. Even Nicole knew something was incredibly wrong. ‘Cáel, you two have the same eyes,' Nicole mumbled. ‘I was thinking the same thing, Miss Lawless,' Brianna said. Huh? ‘You are a lawyer named Lawless?' I gawked at Nicole. ‘How did that happen?' Why had that not registered when I went to Nicole's office? Oh yeah, her leading me in, eyes pleading for sex. ‘That is not relevant, Mr. Nyilas,' O'Shea kept coming. ‘What do you mean 'not relevant'? Are you saying you'd hire a male escort named Quick-fire Small-Penis?' I wondered. ‘If so, you are a more trusting soul than I.' ‘Why are you avoiding my question?' Brianna queried. ‘Why are you asking questions I clearly don't want to answer?' I retorted. ‘Cáel, please don't antagonize my client's representative,' Nicole was playful yet concerned. ‘No problem Nicole Lawless, Attorney at Law,' I grinned to her. I gave her a secretive ass squeeze then made to leave. Miraculously, Brianna let me slip by. The deceptiveness of that kindness was revealed when I stepped outside and found the limo; with another bodyguard standing beside the front passenger door. O'Shea/Mom's double was hot on my heels. As I turned and headed up the street, she grabbed my right arm. ‘Why don't we go out for a late bite to eat,' she stated. I wasn't being invited. I was being told. ‘No can do,' I shrugged off her hand. ‘I promised my Father to leave a recognizable corpse.' ‘What makes you think I have sinister intentions?' she questioned. There was a lot of that going around; not answering stuff, that is. ‘Why do you assume you aren't giving off the same bad vibe as a half-dozen 18th Street gangbangers on a Meth binge?' I teased. Brianna made a hand signal and the three bruisers put their hands on their guns. The closest to me moved around me to block off that escape route. To be correct, the guy at the car door was African-American, around my height with maybe 10 kg on me. The two guarding O'Shea were a guy of Moorish decent and a woman of the English Midlands. I knew this because I was afraid and making shit up. ‘Was I supposed to be impressed with the quiet appeal of desperation you exhibited by playing patty-cake with yourself,' I kept smiling. ‘Or are these three supposed to scare me?' I chuckled. ‘Here; in downtown Manhattan; one of the few places on the planet Earth trying to rival London in video surveillance.' ‘Video evidence can be altered,' Brianna gave me a wicked gleam. ‘Was that supposed to be your Evil Henchwoman voice?' I kept snickering. ‘If so, get a refund from that mail-order firm you took lessons from,' I grinned. ‘You appear to be rather fearless, and obstinate,' O'Shea nodded. ‘Foolishly so.' ‘Lady, I'm staring into the face of my dead Mother who is trying to get me into a limo with three goombahs who think they are intimidating. They are not,' I pointed out. ‘This whole weekend has been a disaster, so me beating the crap out of those three, you and the driver isn't going to change a damn thing,' I enlightened them. The Moorish guy extended a collapsible cane. ‘You seem very confident,' she informed me. ‘Of course I am,' I stated. ‘You haven't spotted my bodyguard yet, meaning all of you are truly screwed.' ‘Why would you have a bodyguard?' she inquired. ‘Why would you want to know?' I countered. ‘Do you practice being irritating, or is an innate talent?' Brianna regarded me. ‘We can do this 'answering a question with a question' thing all night long, except I have to be at work at six a.m. so how about you tell me what you really want to know and tell me why you look like; screw that; are my Mother's clone,' I sighed. ‘Tell me about your genetic heritage,' O'Shea demanded. She was that kind of authoritative prick; actual penis not required. ‘I apologize. I don't seem to have a handle your native vocabulary and your English-as-a-Second Language skills suck,' I sneered. ‘I should go home now.' Moorish guy blocked my egress. English chick was on my right flank, back to the limo and the street. The most pressing issue was a matter of privilege; O'Shea's people thought they'd get away with breaking the law. The moment the Moor popped out is baton, it was 'on'. A baton is a weapon plus O'Shea and her bodyguard were blocking my exit. I was legally free to attack him now. Normally I was lawfully compelled to exit the scene as opposed to engaging in violence. Since I couldn't run away, I was allowed to kick his ass; and O'Shea and company didn't give a crap. I worked five-plus days a week with people like that. The wavy-red haired, emerald green-eyed O'Shea wasn't the daughter of some Mafioso, or Nigerian Warlord. I didn't know what she was, but she was the many opposites of good news. ‘I imagine you think I didn't notice that Taser,' I addressed the Englishwoman while getting in the Moor's face. ‘That is an unfortunate miscalculation on your part.' ‘See, your dumbass partner, with his wonderful 80 cm tool, has let me get inside his reach. Before he can bring it to bear, I'm going to crush it trachea,' I outlined. ‘Now I have his tool and the whole reach thing is working in reverse. You have a hand-held device with a 10 cm reach and I have one that is 80 cm and the distance to make effective use of it.' ‘Don't worry about the guy at the door. By the time I face you, my bodyguard will lethally wound Miss O'Shea there. In case you missed it, now you are all screwed because your job is to guard her, not suppress me; and you all just failed,' I kept the Moor's eye contact. ‘While this horror crosses your mind, I'll break your hand.' ‘Your buddy isn't coming to help you. He's running to Miss O'Shea because he's supposed to keep her alive and that takes all his time and concentration. You poor driver will get out and, not yet having his situational awareness, my bodyguard will neutralize him. About the same time, I will crack your skull open. This allows me to decide whether, or not to kill Miss O'Shea,' I concluded. All of that was an utter and complete fantasy. Collapsible batons; I'd seen them in a few movies. Tasers? I have been tazed and never, ever want to repeat the process; three separate incidences was enough for me. Did I have a bodyguard close by? I had not asked for one and Havenstone had the sad habit of not telling me a damn thing that concerned my personal survival. On the plus side, I could be a compelling actor, or successful conman. I'm not an actor by the grace of two little words; sex scandal. If I sleep with a girl I want it to be because I've tricked and deceived her, not because she wants to tape us then sell it to the media. That would make me feel degraded; cheapened even. I'm not a conman because they use seduction to get what they want. For me, the seduction IS what I want. Steal their money? That would imply I would never, ever be able to sleep with them again. I couldn't do that and remain true to myself. To prove my point, the Moor looked past me to O'Shea for instructions. I punched him in his Solar Plexus and took his toy as I shoved his breathless form to the sidewalk. The Englishwoman expected me to attack her, just like I'd told her I would. It took her a second to realize I'd played her. By then it was too late. I could flee up the street if I wanted. ‘You attacked my man,' O'Shea noted casually. ‘Well, your ears are dicey, but your eyes are spot-on,' I snorted. ‘Shoot him,' O'Shea was decided to wrap this up. I was ceasing to be amusing. ‘In the legs.' Out came the guns and down went my likelihood of getting out of this intact. Pamela walked out of the building we'd exited a minute ago. She was wearing tight black stretch pants, a red turtleneck and a short beige jacket. ‘Protocols,' Pamela invoked in a bored voice. ‘Define,' O'Shea demanded. ‘Cáel,' Pamela kept her gaze on O'Shea, ‘who do you work for?' ‘Havenstone,' I answered. O'Shea looked from Pamela to me. ‘This does not protect a simple employee,' O'Shea stated. ‘I am invoking the Protocols. This does not require me to explain things to you,' Pamela was cool and relaxed. ‘By all means, if you feel I am abusing the Truce, kick it upstairs and it will be adjudicated.' ‘What is your name?' Brianna O'Shea requested of Pamela. ‘Cáel Nyilas. That is all you need to know,' Pamela smirked. ‘That is not possible,' Brianna gained her own barracuda grin. ‘He is Illuminati business. Look at his eyes.' Pamela laughed. The WHO? Weren't they some kind of Freemasons? ‘He walks away right now unless you explain yourself. He is at Havenstone. Whatever relationship he possessed with the Illuminati ceased when he was hired,' Pamela informed her. ‘Cáel Nyilas, tell me about your Mother,' Brianna commanded. ‘No,' I shrugged. ‘It is a simple enough question,' Miss O'Shea persisted. ‘And it is simply none of your business,' I held my ground. ‘I am her sister,' O'Shea declared. Pamela snorted but otherwise kept silent. ‘Ugh; that was not what I wanted to hear,' I groaned. Pamela snickered. She knew where my mind was. ‘Why should I believe you?' ‘You had your genetic sequence analyzed Thursday, didn't you?' O'Shea said. ‘That was flagged by people working for me because you and I share half of the same DNA.' ‘That's not possible,' Pamela stated in the same way she knew I was a cosmic joke. ‘How is that not possible?' I looked to Pamela. I was really starting to accept me and Homicidal O'Shea were family. Why? I'd never had to confront the incest taboo before and here it was looking right at me. O'Shea looked to Pamela, to me, back to Pamela then finally back at me. ‘Do you have a single clue about what is going on?' Brianna addressed me. ‘Yeah, of course I do,' I lied. ‘You are with the Illuminati and you know Havenstone is more than a bunch of greedy bitches.' Pause. ‘So you know nothing about what is going on here, right at this moment,' O'Shea's eyes skewered me. Sigh. ‘Mom; your sister, is dead;' I got out. ‘Yes, she died seven years ago,' Brianna interrupted. ‘What?' I glared. ‘No, she died fifteen years ago. Where do you get your information from and why didn't you at least check out the fucking gravestone?' I snapped. ‘Fifteen; that doesn't make sense; I didn't know where she died, only that when her medication ran out, she would have been consumed by some kind of aggressive cancer,' O'Shea responded. ‘What;' sort of slipped out. ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?' O'Shea probed. ‘Like I'd tell you,' I growled. ‘None,' Pamela stated. ‘Thanks,' I glared at Pam. ‘Why don't you give away all my bargaining chips?' ‘Cáel, they know your last name,' Pamela stated. ‘Do you want them to hunt down your father and torture him for the names and locations of any other children?' ‘If you go after my Dad;' I became aggressive. ‘You will do nothing,' Pamela interrupted. ‘He is not covered by the Truce.' ‘A Truce I know nothing about,' I grumbled. ‘Screw all of you.' ‘Don't sweat it, Cáel. They need you and I can prove it with two honestly answered question,' Pamela smirked. ‘What name are you using today?' to Brianna. ‘Brianna O'Shea,' the red-haired lady replied. ‘How quaint; your real name. Brianna, how many other nieces and nephews do you and your sisters have?' Pamela inquired. Brianna glared. ‘I'll answer that for her; none. That begs the question of why you,' Pamela smiled at me, ‘exist at all. I'm sure that come Monday morning every medic at Havenstone is going to be crawling all over you looking for that answer.' O'Shea had a new game plan. She was going to murder Pamela and kidnap me. This meant I was going to get screwed up; maybe killed. Pamela would kill everyone else and sex would be extra painful for the next week to ten days; I was tired of that crap. I dropped the baton and walked up to Brianna. The bodyguards were twitching, Brianna was calculating multiple variables and Pamela looked mildly amused. I hugged Brianna. ‘If we are family then we are family,' I explained. ‘If there is something you want to talk to me about, give me a call. I'm in the book and I'm sure Havenstone can patch you through if you want to get in touch with me at work.' Pamela was struggling to contain her mirth. ‘Can you keep this discussion under wraps for now?' Brianna requested. The likelihood of that happening must have showed in my eyes. ‘Okay, who do you work for?' Pamela was laughing into her hand. ‘Umm; I work for Katrina Love of Executive Services,' I answered. O'Shea almost had an embolism. ‘It is okay, my desk is in her office, so we are pretty close.' Not at all what she wanted to hear. ‘Okay, I'll stop teasing you. I know who Katrina is and what she does; basically making people like you have believably fatal accidents.' ‘You are a man? Why are you still walking around free?' O'Shea muttered. ‘His sexual dynamism supersedes the sublimely addictive,' Pamela enlightened O'Shea, ‘and if you don't believe me, go up and ask that 'Nicole Lawless' woman.' ‘I was going to say 'I look great in hose and a push-up bra', but that works too,' I muttered. And the last thing I wanted to envision at that reality-cracking moment happened. Brianna O'Shea looked me over and that look said 'Sex'. She was my aunt! Technically; somehow; that should matter, right? ‘Aunt Brianna; Brianna; Auntie O'Shea; what do you want me to call you?' I stammered. ‘Brianna will do,' she pulled those plush red lips into a grin and extended her hand. I shook it. She had a strong grip. She was tapping the pulse in my wrist with her forefinger; a tried and true arousal technique I'd used countless times. ‘I'm really happy that we are family;' I evaded. ‘I had regular sex with mine and your mother's father, your grandfather,' Brianna discussed with the outrage normally reserved for the 'do you want your cantaloupe in wedges, or scoops' debate. ‘My; we'll just toss that in the category of things I never wanted to know,' I coughed. Wait! I could do better than that. This deserved sympathy, not comedy. ‘I am glad you got that off your chest,' I stroked her hand back; okay, not my brightest idea. ‘Has Grandpa stopped doing that?' ‘Your Grandfather is dead,' Brianna delivered the bad news. It was doubly bad because she seemed to really miss the jack-ass. At least I didn't have to feign grief at the bastard's funeral. This also would explain why Mom ran away from home and told Dad and I that her family all perished in a freak Sperm Whale hunting accident in the Arctic. You know, that sounded much more believable when I was five. Dad was crazy in love, which explained his suspension of disbelief whenever she walked in the room. ‘He was assassinated in his study in our mountain home, his throat slit clean through and his body desecrated beyond our ability to resurrect him,' Brianna shed a tear. This was the point where I seriously began worrying about there being a natural gas leak that was either screwing up what I was hearing, or what other people were saying. ‘Wow; how sad,' I tried to sound shaken by the news. ‘I know,' Brianna hugged me. But wait, ‘You smell like him (deep, sensual purr); Dad, that is.' Oh God No! ‘Well with Granddad gone, you seem to have done well for yourself; lves,' I corrected. It sounded like I had aunts in the plural, I was praying for the positive, plus a quick exit. ‘No, we can't move on until we find the assassin,' Brianna told me. She added in a whisper, ‘We know she was an Amazon.' Ah, look, an invitation by my freakish, incestuous aunt to betray the insane fanatics I worked for. I began crying. ‘I understand,' Brianna reached around and patted my back, ‘This must be a lot for you to take in.' ‘You have no idea,' I sniffled. What was my mind was saying: 'By the way, Aunt Brianna, the wacked-out chick that offed Granddad is two meters away from you and you definitely didn't bring a big enough army to deal with her'. ‘Why don't you come home with me tonight?' Brianna offered somewhat plaintively. Sex; worse, I wasn't coming up with any really convincing reasons to not have sex with her. We would do it with the lights off. That way I wouldn't be looking into the face of the Mother of my youth having an orgasm impaled on me. Maybe dim lighting would be okay too. ‘I can't go home with you tonight,' I looked away. ‘I'm feeling vulnerable.' That was exactly why she wanted to take me home with her; confused and vulnerable would allow her to revisit her nostalgic Father-Daughter fornications. ‘You need someone who loves you to look after you,' Brianna prodded. ‘That's what I'm for,' Pamela came to my rescue. Glares and snippets of wrath ensued. In the end, Pamela and I made our getaway. A few blocks away; I didn't want a taxi yet; Pamela speaking voided my introspection. ‘Questions?' ‘Where were you hiding while Nicole and I were having sex?' I mused. ‘Which time?' Pamela taunted me. ‘You mean you followed us to the Men's bathroom (we were reliving our first sexual encounter and then some)?' I groused. ‘I am not saying I was there. I'm not saying I wasn't. I'm not saying,' Pamela smirked. Pause. ‘You killed Grandpa?' I asked. ‘Yes.' ‘You stole his soul?' ‘Yes.' ‘You took yourself to the cliffs to destroy his soul; and yours?' ‘Yes.' ‘You decided not to because of his curse/warning?' ‘No.' ‘Um; why didn't you kill yourself?' ‘He; your Grandfather; had a back-up plan. Having me kill myself was a ploy. Had I done it, I would have lost my soul, his soul would have been released and Havenstone would have thought him dead. At the last moment I gained the insight he had a body already prepared for him that no other person knew about,' Pamela informed me. ‘You.' ‘My Mother didn't know?' I worried. ‘I am not sure. Most likely she thought she had escaped the Old Bastard.' ‘Ugh; family life around Christmas must have been a blast,' I grumbled. ‘The Illuminati make a mockery of the Cult of Christ. They have influenced the Catholic hierarchy for a millennia.' ‘How did she get away; if she got away?' I muttered. ‘Your Mother and Aunts were born to be slaves, but contained nearly all the DNA of your Grandfather; essentially female 'hims'. That meant they are all very, very smart so your Mother figured out a way and fled. Somehow she found your Father and happiness.' ‘He let her get away, didn't he?' I asked. ‘Don't sell your Mother short,' Pamela chided me. ‘He most likely engineered her escape from his estate, but the rest was her. Otherwise, you would have had Illuminati watchers all this time. No, your Grandfather wanted her to be completely free of the Illuminati, and all the other secret orders, until he was ready to make his return.' ‘Why did Brianna think Mom died of cancer seven years ago?' I went for next. ‘All your aunts need medication to keep them healthy and young,' Pamela related. ‘The only one with the formula was your Grandfather and, after so many decades, those bitches have to be running out of it soon, if they haven't already exhausted their supply.' ‘Without the drugs, your Mother would have aged and developed various cancers that would have escalated in their aggression until she died. For some reason, she stopped taking her medications before they ran out,' Pamela ruminated. ‘To have me,' I lowered my head. Mom had died because she knew Dad wanted a child; me. ‘It is not impossible that she couldn't have a child while on the regimen. That sounds like something that bastard Cáel O'Shea would have done,' Pamela agreed. ‘What?' I gulped. ‘You were named after your maternal grandfather, who I studied for weeks, and I can tell you that Cáel Nyilas is a hundred times the person he ever was,' Pamela assured me. ‘Let's not tell my aunt that,' I grunted. ‘Don't worry about that,' Pamela patted me on the back. ‘All of your aunts are most likely addicted to his pheromones and you have some variant of them.' ‘The fuck you say!' I gawked. ‘Oh yeah. He was that kind of son of a bitch.' ‘So when I get scared, they get horny?' I despaired. ‘Or if you are your regular horny self,' Pamela chortled. ‘Hell, Brianna is probably humping that urinal you and Miss Lawless engaged as a; prop earlier this evening.' ‘You are just a cornucopia of horrific knowledge, aren't you?' I groused. ‘I've never had a friend like you,' Pamela enlightened me. ‘You've never had a friend before,' I countered. I hadn't known her a week and I already wanted to kill her half the time as it was. I wondered if women felt the same way about me on occasion. ‘That would definitely make you my finest friend then,' she snickered. ‘Thanks,' I grumbled. ‘Just for that, when I have Daphne bent over with her head and shoulders pressed against the wall while I slam her from behind with all this pent up rage, I'll be thinking of you.' ‘Really?' she queried. ‘Of course not. Daphne is smoking hot. When I finally have sex with her, the only thing I'll be thinking about besides Daphne is how I'm going to have sex with her again,' I grinned. ‘Good,' she smiled happily. Yes, we were talking about me boinking her granddaughter and she was A-Okay with it. ‘Remember, there is no need to use a condom.' ‘I'm not falling for that, you evil witch

“I'm an extreme version, but the water is my life. It's where I live. It's what I do to work out. It's where I go to think. So it solves pretty much all aspects of my life of what keeps me motivated, keeps me fit, keeps me well minded. And I think naturally, most people would say the water has some special power of connecting and making someone feel good.” We're in great company with Brian Meyer, the Co-Founder and CEO of FLOHOM, a collection of immersive waterfront experiences for vacationers and staycationers alike to enjoy the comforts of elevated hospitality while docked in the lively harbors of Baltimore, Annapolis and Washington, DC. Whether you are seeking to submerge in relaxing and refreshing accommodations, or in search of a jumping off point for exploration and adventure, FLOHOM welcomes you aboard their floating homes and into their community of water-loving wanderers.  In this episode, Brian shares how a life spent on the water embracing the change in tides, has led him to not only pursue his own dream of waterfront living, but to make this dream a reality for all those looking for our home away from shore.   Top Takeaways [2:00] Brian was a fish out of water as a child growing up on the Eastern Shore of Maryland - always looking for a reason to waterski, wakeboard or surf - which led him to go to school in Hawaii where he was introduced to outrigger canoes - before returning home to start a community around paddleboarding, Capital SUP.  [7:30] Recognizing the impact these social watersports had on the local community, Brian then started the Live Water Foundation to give Veterans, people with disabilities, and underserved youth a chance to enjoy this lifestyle, ensuring the local waterways were protected with clean water initiatives.  [10:15] When Brian went to look for a waterfront home himself, he quickly learned his budget was well below the price for these types of properties, until he began to conceptualize FLOHOM with the mission to make waterfront living accessible, sustainable, and affordable. [20:00] A stay in a FLOHOM floating suite goes beyond the spacious views and luxurious amenities, with Voyager Guides and bespoke services for guests to experience all that these harbor towns have to offer right off the dock.  [32:30] The future for FLOHOM is a lifestyle brand on the water, from privately owned floating suites to entire marina resorts to an international waterfront footprint.  Notable Mentions Capital SUP Live Water Foundation  Jungalow by Justina Blakeney HostGPO and Minoan marketplaces Outer outdoor furniture  Old Bay seasoning  Hydrofoil surfboards  Visit For Yourself FLOHOM Website | @flohom_ofc @_brianmeyer  Stay In Good Company Website 

At what point did the concept of civilization and civilizations emerge? In what ways  do we know that societies were mingling and exchanging ideas and objects with each other? How were the Crusades responsible for our culture's current sugar obsession?Josephine Quinn is a Professor of Ancient History at the University of Oxford, and the author of several books, including her latest work How the World Made the West: A 4,000 Year History and also In Search of the Phoenicians.Greg and Josephine discuss the challenges and insights from piecing together 4,000 years of global history, and digging into the concept of 'civilizational thinking' and its origins. Josephine explains how civilizations intertwine through war, trade, and cultural exchange, and also highlights how modern perspectives shape our understanding of past human interactions. They also discuss the subject of another of Josephine's books and unpack the significant yet often misunderstood impact of Phoenicians and other early civilizations on today's world.*unSILOed Podcast is produced by University FM.*Show Links:Recommended Resources:PhoeniciaAge of DiscoveryCrusadesLevantHerodotusOttoman EmpireMinoan civilizationArthur EvansKnossosHeinrich SchliemannBarlaam and JosaphatAbbasid CaliphateThe Invention of TraditionZoroastrianismFernand BraudelGuest Profile:Faculty Profile at the University of OxfordWikipedia ProfileSocial Profile on InstagramHer Work:Amazon Author PageHow the World Made the West: A 4,000 Year HistoryIn Search of the PhoeniciansThe Punic Mediterranean: Identities and Identification from Phoenician Settlement to Roman RuleThe Hellenistic West: Rethinking the Ancient MediterraneanThe Rise and Fall of the Classical World: 2500 BC - 600 ADEpisode Quotes:Tracing the roots of civilizational thinking 10:52: One of the things I really want people to take away from my book is that war is one of the most effective modes of communication that people have. But all the same, depended on fundamental notion of similarity between peoples. [11:36] But around 1500, what's happening with this European expansion is to me, a very radical change in that, at the same time as Europeans are engaging in mass conversions to Christianity overseas, they're expelling the significant Jewish and Muslim populations from Europe itself. And so, it's creating a, sort of, us and them situation. Basically for the first time, a significant scale, I mean, things like that happen on a smaller scale and throughout history in all societies but I think this is really, in terms of a global history, something really quite new. And so, to me, it is the roots of that civilizational thinking that gets fully articulated a few hundred years later, starting in the 18th century. The idea of continents is fictional and is used by other geographers to create divisions in their works. 17:01: The idea of continents is a fascinating one to me. It goes back, in fact, to ancient Greek-speaking scientists who are working on the coast of what's now Turkey, very much in touch with what was going on in the big intellectual centers of antiquity, like Babylon, with Egyptian scientists, and so on. But we don't have any evidence that anybody else thought about the world in terms of continents. But they invented it with some geographers, and it was a kind of label. It wasn't a sort of major concept. One of my favorite commentaries is by another Greek historian, Herodotus. I say Greek-speaking. He also was from Anatolia, grew up in Persian lands, but he says, Well, people say that there are these three continents, and they're all named after women: Europa, Asia, Libya, [the] Greek term for what we now say—Africa, but I think this is nonsense. I mean, people don't even know where they begin and end. And, of course, that's right. I mean, some continents exist. The America exists. Australia exists. But Europe, Asia, and Africa?Why do people care about the heterogeneity of origins of things in the modern world?43:05 This is the big question, isn't it? Do people have an investment in the idea of a pure West that is facing pollution or even replacement from the outside right now? I think it's the same kind of question. And I think part of it is just that that's an easier way to think. It offers certainty. I think certainty is a terribly attractive thing but the problem is that human history isn't certain. It's fuzzy and complicated and if there's one thing that I would love people who read this book to think harder about, it's the idea of heritage. I think heritage is often seen as a very positive thing in the world today. But actually, I feel like there's a danger that people invest in a collective past at the expense of a collective present. And that, I think, is quite dangerous. But it is much easier to read things than it is to have conversations.The idea of the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations as two separate cultures is a historical typo.The whole idea of Minoan and Mycenaean are basically just two rival labels of two basically warring groups of archaeologists about exactly the same thing. It's like a historical typo that people now think of them as different.

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..