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Science communicator and bat expert Dan Riskin talks to Andrew Carter every Wednesday at 8:20.

Quaranteam-Northwest: Part 5 Lab work. Based on a post by Break The Bar. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.   Time went quickly, but also seemed to go nowhere at all; only three days after the final demise of the house we'd moved the RVs four times and I decided we needed to figure out something at least semi-permanent. Even a week in the same spot would be preferable to constant movement. The space where my house had stood was now full of stacks and pallets of supplies, and Vanessa had a crew of almost two dozen of her 'gorillas' working to erect what would become the first of a dozen temporary bunkhouses for the incoming construction workers. She still seemed to be the only foreman on site, so I went looking for Vanessa. I found her at the water truck, splashing some water onto the back of her neck as she took a quick break. It had turned even hotter over the week, spring slipping fully into summer, and we were all starting to boil when we were outside. I'd quickly abandoned the feeling of needing to 'dress up' for everyone and I was down to athletic shorts and one of my sleeveless workout shirts; one of the few that were still 'mine' considering both Erica and Ivy had taken to wearing them as well. Vanessa was the boss however and had to set the example for the rest of the crew, so she was still wearing the jeans, long-sleeved t-shirt and her reflective vest of a dutiful construction foreman. "Hey, got a second?" I asked. "Oh, hey Harrison," she said, looking up as she continued splashing water onto the back of her neck. "Sorry I haven't come to check with you and the girls today, we had three more loads this morning of barracks pilings I had to get sorted, and the fucking surveyors are still bitching about not knowing where the sewage lines are going to come onto the property, as if I can fucking answer that question for them or something." "When's your Dad supposed to finally get on site?" I asked. Her father was supposed to be the General Manager of the entire construction project, but so far I had yet to have seen him. "Fuck, a few days still at least," Vanessa sighed. "I'm getting tired as shit of the phone tag." "Well, sorry if this is a big ask and causes you more headaches; any chance we could project ahead a bit and figure out where we can stash the RVs and everything where we're not going to need to move them for a while? Moving everything around is annoying by itself, but I've also noticed some of your guys are spending a lot of time wandering by the RVs whenever the girls are outside." "Fucking gorillas," Vanessa grunted and grimaced. "I mean, on the one hand, I get it; they are either cooped up in the motel or here working. I'm not exactly thrilled with the situation either. But they could keep it in their fucking pants too, ya know?" "Look, if we can find a spot, the way I see it we can use the RVs and Containers to set up a yard for us that's blocked from view. Then we can have some privacy and not feel cooped up in the RVs, and your guys aren't tempted to let their eyes wander," I said. "I figure it's a win-win." Vanessa smiled and patted my arm. "Harri, as long as you keep the fucking indoors, I'll see what I can do about getting you guys some more privacy." "What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly a little worried that Erica and I might have gotten caught at the Willow tree after all, or that maybe a surveyor had wandered up near the Spring without us hearing. "Nothing, nothing," Vanessa said. "I just; you know we can see the RVs rocking a bit, right? And I don't know who it is, but someone over in your camp is a screamer. We can hear her when she really gets going. Once the guys even gave you a standing ovation." "Fuck," I coughed, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. I think it's something to do with the vaccine. I've had more sex in the last four days than I have in the last four years. Honestly, I don't even know how I'm doing it; I ain't old, but I'm not a teenager either." "Well, god bless the vaccine I guess," Vanessa smirked. "And good for you. Just do me a favor and keep it inside the RVs 'till we can get you that privacy. We don't need the entire site shutting down to listen to you fucking your girlfriends." I shook my head again with a self-deprecating smirk. "Um, deal. I hope." That made Vanessa chuckle, and we parted ways for the afternoon. The next day, she came back in the morning and explained the plan she had worked out with the Surveyors and one of the tree-clearing crews. By mid-afternoon, a new swathe of the back end of the hill was bare of trees, and a bulldozer scooped dirt into the holes left by ripped-up stumps. By the time Vanessa left that evening, two of the storage containers had been shifted around by the 'gorillas' and positioned in an L-shape for us in the new location, and Leo and I moved the RVs to form the other two sides of a square. When Vanessa came by the next morning we'd hung up some old, heavy blankets at the corners to maximize our privacy, busted out the lawn chairs and barbecue, and were on our way to turning the space into an outdoor living room. Leo and I even went so far as to rig up an old bell we'd salvaged from the barn on a wooden post with a metal knocker on a string to serve as a doorbell. Erica was the one to answer Vanessa's ring of the bell, and she swept aside the blanket curtain. "Welcome to Casa de Black," she declared. "Jesus," Vanessa said, walking into our new home base. "You guys didn't want to wait, did you?" "Why would we?" Leo asked. "We don't know how long we're going to be living like this, so might as well make the most of it." Leo had decided to make one last addition to our current set-up, and had pulled a loose slab of wood from the container holding all his tools and was carving 'Speak Friend and Enter' into it the makeshift sign with his handheld angle grinder. He'd already been talking about using his torch to burn the wood before giving it a clear lacquer coat. "What can we do for you, Vanessa?" I asked. "Need some breakfast?" "Actually?" Vanessa chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second and peeked back outside the yard. "Breakfast would be fucking great. They're feeding us at the motel, but it's been the same instant oatmeal every fucking morning." "Well, we've yet to have our egg hookup dry out on us," I said. Old Mrs. Branston lived about fifteen minutes down the highway and had been selling eggs to three generations of my family; through the pandemic and quarantine we'd set up a system where I called ahead and she dropped off two dozen eggs at the end of her driveway, and I left a ten dollar bill in her mailbox. "How do you like them? I think I'm getting pretty good at using the grill with a frying pan." We hosted Vanessa for about fifteen minutes as I fried her up some over-easy eggs and some toast to go with it, and she started devouring the first two so quickly that I put another two in the pan for her immediately. While I cooked, she shared the most recent gossip running through the construction crews. "So the latest group to come in said they got tested four times before even leaving the airport," she said around a mouthful. "They were basically flown into Portland, put in little hygienic pods inside the terminals until they'd tested negative all four times, then escorted to military transports. I guess the army is our taxi service or something, and there are members of the national guard currently standing watch at all of the motels. It's kind of fucked up and feels like a prison, honestly. We're not even supposed to mingle outside with each other, despite the fact that we all work together here all day." "Who's feeding you all?" Danielle asked. "Just the people already working out there seems like a lot." "Some catering service is making these prepackaged meals," Vanessa said. "The breakfasts are shit, and the lunches are whatever. The dinners are Okay though; microwavable, and waiting for us when we get off shift." "Have you heard anything else out there about the vaccine?" I asked. "Hmm-Hmm," Vanessa shook her head. "But I mean, I spend my time working." "I'm still not seeing much online," Leo said. "Little whispers on social media, but then it disappears before it gets going." "That's kinda fucked up," Erica said. "We know it's real. The government must be censoring the information or something. "Well, whenever it happens, I don't know what I'll do," Vanessa sighed. "I like working too much, being my own woman. I bring in more cash in a year than almost every other person I graduated high school with, I've been doing it for years, and I don't have any debts. I can't just get tied down to some guy." "You would be surprised, Vanessa," Ivy spoke up. "I am this way too, no? I left home to make my way, and I am happy doing it. But now I am happy here, and am also safe from the sickness. It is not how I saw my life going, but c'est la vie, non?" Vanessa shrugged, and we moved on to some other topics until her radio squawked and she had to run off back to her work. By lunchtime I'd already done another two quick guides into the hills for the surveyors and Leo had gotten his nerd-sign carved out and torched, and he was spray lacquering it outside the yard with a facemask and safety goggles on to cut the strong fumes. He stopped the sprayer when he saw me approaching and stepped away from the sign. "Hey, you able to help me out with hanging this tonight?" he asked me. "Of course," I said. "I gotta help you fly your nerd flag somehow." "Yeah, says the guy with the Lord of the Rings concept art cycling as his desktop screen," Leo rolled his eyes. "It's for my work," I said. "Top-notch inspiration." And then I realized I hadn't opened my laptop in days; not since I'd finished the questionnaire that had led to Erica choosing me. And Ivy for that matter. I hadn't checked emails, I hadn't reached out to contacts. Fuck, I hadn't even sent in my last work-for-hire backgrounds. "Whatever," Leo laughed and punched me in the arm. "Look, when you go in there, just know it wasn't my idea, Okay? I only helped them move the stuff." "What does that mean?" I asked. "You'll see," Leo said cryptically. I ducked through the blanket door and immediately saw what Leo was talking about. Space had been cleared in the center of our sheltered yard for three of the heavy Adirondack deck chairs, and laying in those chairs were Danielle, Erica and Ivy. Each of them was wearing a bikini and were glistening with sunscreen and sweat from the sun as they tanned. They had a Bluetooth speaker playing songs from their phones; I suspected Erica was trying to convince the younger two women of the virtues of mid-2000s pop punk. "Oh, good," Erica said, grinning as she saw me coming into the yard. She lifted her glass. "Um, excuse me, waiter? We could use a top-up, please." I snorted and shook my head, walking over. All three of the women were in two-piece swimsuits, though I suspected Danielle and Ivy's were possibly part of their stripping gear rather than actual bikinis. Both of their suits were more string than fabric and left little to the imagination. Erica's was a bit more conservative, though really not by that much because of her swathe of cleavage. "What are we drinking today, ladies?" I asked. "I made up a pitcher of sangria," Erica said. "It's in the fridge in our place. You would be the absolute love of my life if you were to go get it for us, please?" "I thought I already was the love of your life?" I asked with a smile. "You are," Erica smiled back. "But this will get you to the front of the line for my next life, too. How about that?" "Does that go for all of you?" I asked. "Absolutely," Ivy grinned. "I think I could definitely do worse," Danielle grinned. "But I think Leo might have something to say about that." "Harri can take my brother," Erica chuckled. "Don't worry, Danni. Just sell your future soul to Harri, what's the worst that could happen?" "Fine. My future love life for a refill of sangria," Danielle giggled. I fetched the pitcher and poured for the three women, unable to wipe the grin from my lips as I watched and listened to them bantering back and forth happily. By mid-afternoon, the tanning was over and after a quick fuck in the RV Erica and I were lounging in the Adirondacks, each of us with a sketchbook in hand. "What are you working on?" I asked. "I know you've been as frustrated as I have over the last month." "A tattoo design for Ivy," Erica said, her brow creased as she tapped her pencil against her lips thoughtfully. "Now that I have a future canvas, I feel like I can concentrate again. Plus the sex helps a lot." You laughed and nodded. "Got your creative juices flowing, huh?" "Got all my juices flowing, baby," she grinned at me. "What about you? I've got Ivy, and Danielle wants me to design something for her now, too. What's got you drawing again?" I smiled a little and shrugged. "Just figured out my muse," I said. "And what's that?" she asked. "Come on, don't be shy." I turned my sketchbook around so that Erica could see the portrait I had been sketching of her. She looked at it and blushed, biting her lower lip. "Just the most beautiful thing in the world," I told her. "You know," Erica said. "It kinda looks like you're drawing me naked." "That's cause I'm drawing you from the shoulders up," I said. "Yeah, but would you?" she asked. "Would I what? Draw you naked?" "Or Ivy?" "Are you asking me to draw you like one of my French girls?" I asked. Erica barked out a laugh at the reference and threw her pencil at me. "Yes, maybe I am," she said. "Now give me back my pencil." "You threw it at me," I said, fetching it off the ground. "Come and get it." We ended up in each other's arms and making out, me halfway to taking her back into the RV for round two, when someone rang the doorbell. "Who is it?" I shouted over the wall. "It's me," Vanessa called and ducked through the blanket door without waiting for a response. "Sorry, but we've got a problem," she said. "I think I'm going to need you down at the road again." "Fuck," I said. "Is it Kara?" "It's a lot more than that bitch," Vanessa said. I changed and this time Vanessa drove us both down in her company-branded pickup truck. Erica, having already staked her claim on me in front of Kara in her eyes, decided to hang back and let Ivy finish what I'd started. I was sure sending me away with that picture in my mind was done on purpose. As we were nearing the bottom of the driveway, I could hear the noise of the protest through the closed windows and over the engine of the truck. "Fuck me," I said. "Yeah," Vanessa nodded. The end of the driveway was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder, blocking traffic. They were three rows deep and singing a protest chant. Every single one of them was dressed in bright colors, showing their allegiance to the Band and proudly shouting for all they were worth. Opposing them, about ten feet up the drive, was a slim, single row of burly construction workers just watching the protest happen. "Those guys really can't let themselves get baited," I said. "If something happens, it doesn't matter who said what or what can hold up in court. There'll be big, scary motherfuckers showing up wanting to do some damage and I don't think your boys are ready for that." "I know, I already told them," Vanessa said. "But I'll tell them again. You'd be surprised how much threatening someone's big, fat bonus checks can keep them calm and focused." We got out of the truck and I walked down to the line of workers, rubbing at the stubble on my chin as I considered the protestors. There were easily fifty of them blocking the driveway, and there was already a backup of two flatbed trucks on the highway, plus a half dozen cars that looked more like they just wanted to get by rather than come in. Another thirty or so protestors were strung out on either side of the highway in both directions, holding up signs and doing the organizational things to keep the protestors going. "Pretty good turnout," I said offhandedly. "A lot bigger than last time." "When was the last time?" Vanessa asked. "Five years ago," I said. "Kara tried to sue for an injunction on my father's Will, and about a dozen protestors showed up to the courthouse the day she got shot down." "Any chance they'll get tired and go home?" Vanessa asked. I scanned the crowd and the vehicles parked up and down the highway. I already knew there were about thirty military-age males in the protest, and I could see people opening the backs of vans where I spotted supply caches of water and food. I could also see the determination on the faces of the crowd, and hear the declarations of a couple of different women holding loudspeakers. The rhetoric, and emotions, were ramped up more than usual. The anti-government hate was high, and now that they knew they weren't fighting Me but rather the Government it seemed to steel their resolve. "Not a shot," I said. I stepped forward and the shouting got louder. Likely every single person in that crowd knew who I was, while I had no idea who most of them were. But with every step I took, they shouted louder. Finally, halfway between the lines, they seemed to be at a fever pitch and I just stopped and waited. They kept going for a good five minutes before Kara pushed her way through and walked up to me, masked behind those bandanas again. "I told you this would happen," Kara said over the shouting and chanting. "You didn't think I could do it, but look at us. Look at us, Harrison! We will not let this happen to our land." "Kara," I said loudly. "How do you think this ends?" "Only one way," Kara shouted. "The Feds surrender to our rightful claim, and stop their colonization efforts, and we take back what's ours." "This is dangerous, Kara," I said, gesturing at the crowd. "What?" she shouted back. "I said this is dangerous, Kara," I shouted. "Every person here is in danger." "Are you threatening us?" Kara shouted, playing it up for the crowd behind her. "Going to kill us, like your family has done for generations?" "Jesus fuck," I said, shaking my head. "Kara, this doesn't end the way you think it does. I'm going to pray for you, honest to God." Kara just held up her middle finger at me, pointed her other at Vanessa behind me, and turned and walked away to the cheers of her people. I shrugged and went back to Vanessa. "Yeah, they aren't leaving," I said. "I already called my Dad," Vanessa said. "He's coming down and will want to meet with you." "Sure," I nodded. "If they let him through." About thirty minutes later the protesters were still going strong, and another three flatbeds with either supplies or heavy machinery were backed up on the highway, along with dozens of cars. Vanessa was doing as much as she could to keep her workers at least a dozen yards away from the crowd of protestors; the last thing she wanted was for them to need to get quarantined waiting on a half dozen new tests. Or worse, actually catch something. I did my best to help her juggle phones, calling various General Foremen to get incoming trucks rerouted to staging areas and to keep those that were stuck in the traffic in their cabs or else they couldn't enter the site. Eventually she got a call, spoke quickly and then hung up. "Harri, this might be a big ask, but could you do me a favor?" she asked. "The government paid me a lot of money for my land and doing favors," I said. "But you've gone out of your way plenty for me and Leo and the girls. Favors come free to you, Vee." She rolled her eyes. "Who told you my brothers call me that?" "No one, just felt natural," I chuckled. "I call Erica 'E' sometimes, and I'm sure I'll end up calling Ivy 'I've' at some point." "Alright, well, 'H,'" she said. "My dad is parked down at the edge of the property on the highway and doesn't want to get too close to the traffic. Could you hike out to him and bring him back?" "Sure," I said. I looked up at the sun and then out at the woods. "Um, from here... it's probably faster if I grab an ATV. Would he be squeamish about riding double with me?" Vanessa snorted. "He probably wouldn't be, but he's also got a gut the size of your ATVs so it would be a tight fit." "Alright, guess we're hiking. I can rough it and reach him in about twenty minutes," I said. "I'll take a smoother way back for him, so we'll get here in under an hour." "Got it, I'll let him know you're on your way. Thanks," she said, patting my arm. "Try to take it easy on him, he growls like a bear but he's still my Dad." "Hey, he's the big man in charge. Gotta keep him happy or else I'll find myself with the worst workers for my house, right?" "Very true," she laughed. I started hiking back up the driveway a little ways, and then diverted into the woods, hoping that the protestors would miss that I was skirting away from them. I was very glad I had changed from my lounging around clothes; rough jeans and my hiking boots were a lot sturdier in the rocky bush than athletic shorts and sandals. The raucousness of the protestors was quickly muffled by the forest to a dull roar, and it felt good to get away from them. It was weird. After spending months in isolation with Leo and Erica, we'd been getting used to so many people around again with the workers and adding Ivy and Danielle to our weird little family dynamic. But a crowd like that, all packed together? That was exactly what the quarantine orders were warning against. "Harrison!" My name cut through the muffle of the trees and shrubs, and I turned and saw Kara quickly jogging through the woods to catch up with me. "Kara, what the fuck are you doing? You're trespassing," I said. "So throw me off your land," Kara said, coming to a stop about ten feet from me and putting her hands on her hips. "Oh wait, that's right, it's not your land anymore." I rolled my eyes. "You can take off the bandanas if you want. We're fine this far apart." She did so, pulling them down to hang around her neck. Kara was still as beautiful as the day we'd broken up, though she'd grown up a lot. Where I was such a mix that it was hard to tell I had any Native American in my bloodstream, she had that classic warm skin tone and thick black hair. She'd been taking care of herself well, fit and a little thinner than Erica was, but with a similar strong jawline to my girlfriend. Her lips were as full as I remembered though, and I could almost feel her kissing me again like all those years ago behind the corner of the biology classroom in high school, or laying out in the back of my old beater pickup under the stars. "What's going on, Harri?" she asked me. "I thought we'd at least hit a status quo or something." "Oh, the one where you file a lawsuit against me every couple of years, and the judge shuts you down, but I keep having to rack up legal fees?" "No," she said. "Well, sort of. I thought we were keeping things above board. No games, no gimmicks. Not getting historical." I grimaced. "Well, we did," I said. "So what the fuck?" she said, throwing her arms wide. "What the fuck is all of this?" "Kara, think about it for one fucking second without your prejudice. Imagine I'm not just doing this as a 'Fuck You' from my family tree to the Band," I said. "A week ago I wouldn't have thought any of this would be happening. A week ago I was happily living my life and would have stayed that way straight through the end of the world if I had to. Do you seriously think I've done this on some whim?" "Why, then? What are they doing? What are they offering you?" she demanded. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said. "And even if you did, I think you're too far into this already to walk it back with your people." "Try me," she said. "If you ever cared about me,” "Stop," I interrupted her. "You've used that line twice on me before, Kara. You used it when you broke up with me, and you used it again right after my father died. That line didn't work when I was at some of the lowest points in my life; do you seriously think I'll respond well to that here?" She grimaced, and I saw the realization in her eyes that I was right. That she had used that line before, and it had been pretty fucked up for her to do that. "I'm sorry," she said, and only partially through gritted teeth. "I shouldn't have done that." "Thank you," I said. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt like I was in combat, just having this verbal sparring contest with her. I fucking hated her, but I also still knew she was the first girl I'd ever loved. The one that had broken my heart. The one that 'got away.' "Just explain it to me," Kara said, trying to be more even about it. "Please." I took a moment to breathe deeply. I wasn't barred from telling her anything. I'd tried to warn her when she'd shown up at the driveway before, but the thought of all those protestors at risk for the virus pushed me over the edge of trying to warn her again. "Kara, the government gave me the choice of accepting a huge payout for the land, or them kicking me out and taking it by eminent domain. Either way, they were going to take it and take it fast. I could either ride it, or die fighting it." "So what are they doing with it?" she asked. "Building homes," I said. "A whole gated community, it sounds like. Part of my payout was housing for myself, Leo and Valerie." "What the fuck? Why do they want a gated community way out here?" she asked. "Worst-case scenario shit," I said. "You mean the pandemic?" she asked. "Are you for fucking serious?" "Serious enough that my house got bulldozed a couple days ago," I said. "Gone. Like it was never even there." "This can't be real," Kara said. "This is absurd." "I told you that you wouldn't believe me," I said. "Well, if you were too much of a cunt to stop them, we will," Kara said, steeling herself again. "We'll have the local news down here by tomorrow, and if the Feds show up we'll have national news coverage by the end of the week." I had to try one more time. "Kara, this doesn't end the way you want it to. You're a dreamer, and I loved that about you when we were teens, but you know the real world doesn't just work like that." Kara narrowed her eyes. "Where are you going right now?" "What does that matter?" I asked. "Because I just followed you out into the woods after your little construction girlfriend was talking to you," she said. "She's not my girlfriend," I rolled my eyes. "Tell her that. She's flirting with you hard enough," Kara said. "I can see her doing it." "Even if she was, what does that have to do with you?" I asked. I knew I'd landed a blow because she got angry again. "Nothing," she said. "But I still want to know what you're doing." "I don't have to tell you that, Kara," I said. "I don't answer to you, I don't owe you anything, and I don't worship the ground you walk on. All I've got to say now is that you should go send all those people home, and hope that you haven't organized some super-spreader event here. For all the shit you've given me and my family, I don't want to see them all dead. I don't want to see you dead." Kara raised her bandanas again. "We're fighting the good fight. We're on the right side of this, Harrison. You're not." She turned and started walking back towards the road. "Fuck me," I sighed, shaking my head. That woman could still push my buttons almost fifteen years later. I pressed through the forest, making for the edge of the property and then diverting towards the road. When I reached it, I found a white and brown heavy pickup identical to Vanessa's idling on the gravel shoulder. The big guy in the driver's seat rolled down his window a crack. "What's up?" "I'm Harrison Black," I said. Another guy got out of the passenger seat and came around, slapping the hood. "Head on back to the motel," he said to the man in the truck. "I'll catch a ride back with my daughter." The guy in the truck nodded and waited for us both to back away before pulling a U-Turn and taking off down the highway. "So, you're the land guy, eh?" the man said, turning and offering me his hand. He was exactly as Vanessa had described; portly to the point of obese, with a gruff exterior that spoke of years handling his business in a rough industry and getting shit done. "I am," I said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Your daughter has been fantastic to work with. Helpful and on task, and she keeps her guys in line." "I have no doubt," he said. "She grew up bossing her older brothers around and got the best of her mother and me. I'm Brent Peters, by the way. I'm sure we'll be speaking every once in a while through this project." "Good to meet you, sir," I said. "And I'm sure we will." I led Brent into the brush and got us through the roughest part until I could get us to one of the more used trails. It got a lot easier for him there, and once he had a chance to catch his breath he seemed to actually enjoy the chance to stretch his legs. He didn't know, or at least wasn't forthcoming, with any more information than Vanessa had been able to give about what was going on, but he did enjoy hearing about the sordid history of the land, my family and the Band. It took a little longer than I'd thought it would to get back to the driveway, Brent needing a couple of breaks, but we made it eventually. Vanessa grinned when she saw her father in a way that made me think she was going to run to him and hug him, but she never made the move. I had to assume that was a hard-trained response from her years working with the man; hugging your pops on a job site would probably lead to taking a lot of shit from your coworkers. Brent quickly got updated on the last hour of developments from Vanessa, and I saw his managerial side take over. Soon the line of construction workers were twenty yards back from the protestors, and he was stride-waddling forward with a medical mask stretched over his face. Kara met him halfway, and whatever they said seemed to go about as well as the talks I'd had with her myself. Again, she ended it by showing off for the protestors by giving him the double-birds. "Well, that went well," Brent sighed as he came back. "You were right, Harrison. They're stuck in. Wouldn't even help us get those trucks room to move or get out of the way of traffic." "She feels like she's got leverage," I guessed. "And they haven't had that on us for years now." "Well, I've officially done what I can," Brent said. "Time to do what every good GM does when shit like this happens." He took out his phone and started walking up the driveway away from Vanessa and me. "What's that?" I asked. "Call the client and tell them to un-fuck the situation," Vanessa smirked. The rest of the afternoon and evening was a long fucking day. There was no good way to get the workers on site off of it, and no good way to get new ones on, so Leo and I ended up walking several groups through the trails to get to the road in places out of sight of the protestors. And since the big crew vans were parked on site, Brent ended up getting access to school buses to come and pick up his guys. The second to last bus dropped off a dozen men who would take over watching the driveway and the protestors overnight; we'd already seen them breaking out tents and lanterns to hold their vigil; and the last bus out had Brent and Vanessa on board. "Client will be by in the morning," Brent said, and winked at me. "Don't you worry, bucko. You hold down the home front tonight, and the cavalry will be here in no time." "You got it," I said. "But whoever is coming, I suggest you make sure they know to take this seriously. The Band is riled up, and now they smell blood in the water. This isn't going away easily." "I'll pass that on to the Lieutenant Colonel," Brent nodded. He shook my hand again and stepped onto the bus. "See you tomorrow, H," Vanessa grinned at me. "Not if I see you first, Vee," I chuckled. She stepped up into the bus and I heard her voice raise immediately. "Alright, you Gorillas. Grab your fuckin' seats and stay there. I swear to Christ if one of you pisses me off, I'll confiscate your fuckin' dinner, got it?" I laughed, and could see the construction workers grinning in their seats as the bus did a three-point turn and pulled away. The sun was getting low when I finally hiked out of the bush and back into view of our little compound. Erica was waiting for me with a smile and a plate of stir fry. "What's the word, Harri?" "They're still down there," I said. "There are some workers keeping an eye on the driveway. Could you throw on a big pot of coffee for me and dig one of the thermoses out of storage?" "Harri, if they've got some of their workers down there, it's not your job to supervise. I'm sure Vanessa and her Dad left someone in charge." "They did," I said. "And I'm not going down there. I'm staying up here." I shoveled the stir fry down, relishing in the spicy kick Erica liked to cook with. Inside our little compound I gave Ivy a kiss, apologizing that I wouldn't be seeing her in bed for the night. Then I went to the storage container closest to my RV. The one with my gun safe. "What's the word?" Leo asked me when he found me. I had a lantern flashlight on and was loading rounds into my father's Model 700. "Jesus, Harri. What the fuck?" I doubted he was commenting on me loading the Remington hunting rifle. We'd used it plenty when we were hunting during deer season; it was a solid, reliable tool. No, I knew he was reacting to the other firearms I had out. My M9 was already holstered on my hip, a copy of my service sidearm that had served me so well through my tour and as an MP, and my DDM4V1 was laid out, waiting for me to do a quick check it was still in good order. "Just taking precautions," I said. I was already trying to get into the right mindset. "What does that even mean? What are you doing?" "There's about a hundred protesters down there, last I counted. More keep arriving," I told Leo, loading the last round into the 700 and checking the safety before setting it down. I fished a handful more.308's out of the ammo box in the safe and fed them into the bandolier shoulder strap for the hunting rifle. "Problem is, they're pissed off. Not just about the construction, but at all the other shit going on right now. And pissed-off people do dumb shit." "So what, you're going to go all Alamo on us?" Leo asked. "For real, Harri. Nothing's going to happen. They're down there, we're up here." "Leo," I said. "I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to. The Bear shotgun is in my RV. Do me a favor and keep it handy tonight. If I miss something, I'd rather you have it than not." "Harri,” "Dude, just stop," I said. I'd finished with the.308s and started taking apart the DDM4V1 and giving it a quick clean. It was a budget purchase that I'd made prioritizing reliability over flashy shit, and the 'scary one' in my collection when it came to civilians. Erica hadn't even liked the idea of me owning it when we gave her the tour of my firearms and taught her the safety protocols for them. Leo had only ever fired it once. Both of the siblings had said the same thing; 'If you have the rifles and shotguns and the handgun, why do you need a machine gun?' This sort of thing was why I needed it. And it wasn't a 'machine gun.' "I'm not planning, or hoping, to kill someone tonight. If I have to use the DDM4 or my sidearm, something has gotten really fucked," I said. "But I'm also not taking any chances. Sometime tonight, there's going to be people sneaking up into the construction yard to cause mischief, and they aren't going to know the difference between the construction yard and where we're living. Maybe they hear us and they stay clear, or maybe they don't. I'm not taking that chance." Leo watched me cleaning my rifle, and glanced out at the darkening sky, and then back to me. "What should I do?" he asked. A wave of relief washed over me; it had been years since I'd served, and every instinct I had was telling me to do what I was doing, but that civilian part of my brain was second-guessing everything. Leo agreeing told me I was being logical, even if he didn't like it or I turned out to be wrong. "Just be with the girls tonight," I said. "I can handle the yard, you stay with them. Think of it like a shitty tower defense game. If I do my job, you'll never have to do anything." He nodded and left me to my work. Surprisingly, it was Danielle who came to see me next. "What can I do to help?" she asked. Her Australian accent was sounding stronger, the California valley girl part of it dropping with her serious demeanor. "Nothing, I've got it," I said. She'd caught me as I was strapping on my ghillie suit; another item that Leo and Erica had found silly to own considering we didn't need it for hunting deer. It had honestly been more of a gag item in my collection than anything until tonight. "Harrison, I'll remind you that my Dad was military, yeah?" she said. "I grew up outside the city. I know how to work a firearm." I took a breath and looked at her. Even at night, by the light of a lantern, she looked like an elven beauty despite the cutoff denim shorts and zippered knit sweater. "Can you handle a handgun?" I asked. "I've shot the head of an Eastern Brown from ten paces away when it was threatening to bite my dog," she said. "I assume that's a snake?" "A fucking poisonous one," Danielle said. "Alright," I nodded. "Under the passenger seat of my truck is a gun case with my pop's old 1911 and a couple of magazines. Hang on to it for tonight. Try not to freak out Erica or Ivy, and if you hear shots tonight don't let Leo come looking for me, let alone Erica and Ivy. If they leave the RVs it'll just make things worse." "Okay," she said with a serious nod, then stepped towards me, hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks." "For what?" I asked as she stepped back. "For being the man I figured you were," she said. "Leo's all mine and I'm happy with that, but like I told you; you remind me of all the good parts of my Dad. I'm glad I have Leo and you around." She left to fetch the pistol, and I finished strapping on the ghillie suit and slung my two rifles over my shoulders and closed the gun safe. When I was finished slamming the storage container closed, I turned around to find Ivy and Erica both looking at me with their arms crossed. "Both of you, huh?" I asked. "Yes, both of us," Erica said. "United front," Ivy said. "Look,” "Shut up, Harrison," Erica said, and then they were both hugging me while being careful around the firearms. "Just be careful." "Extra careful," Ivy said, burying her face into the strings of the ghillie suit in my chest and then immediately pulling back with a wince. "Ugh, this smells terrible." "Yeah, well it's not exactly the sort of thing you clean very often," I shrugged. "Whatever," Erica said and kissed me. Ivy kissed me as well, looking at me with those big eyes of hers with concern. "So you're not going to try and convince me this isn't necessary?" I asked. "Wouldn't do anything except lead to a fight we couldn't win," Erica said. "You're too stubborn not to do it." "And too brave," Ivy added. "That too," Erica smiled sadly. Then she handed me the big thermos of coffee. "Come back to us in one piece." "I will," I said. "Don't worry. But if you two hear anything tonight, if there's any gunfire, don't come looking for me. Just stay in the RVs and hunker down from the windows. If you come looking for me, you'll add more danger and not take it away, alright?" They both agreed, though I could tell Erica didn't like it. I could only imagine her sprinting across the construction yard, bullets flying everywhere, screaming my name as she worried I'd been shot. Hell, she'd probably pick me up and carry me to safety if it were true, but she'd also likely never get to me in the first place if things were that bad. I kissed them both again, then stalked off into the night. I ended up settling into a nook on the side of the hill to the south of the construction yard, with a clear view of about two-thirds of the yard and most importantly the RV compound. I unslung my rifles and carefully positioned myself in a comfortable prone position I was going to be able to manage for a long time. I'd never gone through Sniper training, but I'd picked up enough from my Bootcamp, talking with other soldiers and from movies to know a thing or two; not to mention years of hunting. So I cracked the thermos and took a sip of the hot, strong coffee, and started my watch. I saw them moving through the trees at around 02:30 in the morning down on the east side of the yard near the driveway. They must have skirted around the construction worker picket line and followed the driveway up, but they were still in the shadows so I couldn't tell how many there were, or what they were carrying. The only reason I spotted them early at all was because someone was flicking a flashlight up occasionally. I had the 700 cradled in my arms, and I slowly rolled into position but didn't sight down the scope yet. I didn't have any night vision gear, and while the simple Leopold scope easily gave me the range to tag anything moving down there, I wouldn't know what I was hitting. They stopped at the edge of the tree line, and I could only imagine the nerves they were feeling looking out over the open area. There were seven portables set up holding various offices now, and half a dozen big crew vans that had been left behind for the night along with some of the company pickup trucks. The pilings and supplies to erect the bigger barracks were also looming in the big, open space. "Just take a look and leave," I muttered quietly to myself, willing whoever was down there to not make this worse than it could be. Five minutes went by before a figure began to creep out of the tree line, crossing the rise of the hill and slipping towards the yard. From the distance I was at, I couldn't see them clearly enough other than to tell they were probably wearing a backpack; not a big deal in and of itself, but my training was screaming at me. 'Anything' meant anything. That backpack could hold weapons, or communications equipment, or even an I E D. I sighted in on the figure. It was a man, military age but young. I couldn't see much of his face between the black bandana over his nose and mouth and a ball cap backwards on his head. My finger tightened just a fraction on the trigger when I saw the flash of metal in his hand, but my hesitation saved his life; he was carrying a can of spray paint. He reached what he thought was the shelter of the first building; and it was shelter if he thought a guard was patrolling inside the yard. But I wasn't inside the yard, and instead I was looking at him dead on along the length of the building as he took off his backpack and then turned, motioning back towards the tree line. A half dozen more figures began quickly creeping across the hillside. I had a choice; if that backpack was full of spray-paint and that was all they were there to do, it would be annoying vandalism at worst as long

Quaranteam-Northwest: Part 4 The House. Based on a post by Break The Bar. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. The pounding on the front door echoed through the house again, and I literally fell out of the bed trying to disentangle my foot from the mess of the sheets. Erica and I had stumbled inside late as fuck, trying to be quiet and not wake up Leo and Dani, and now I could see we'd tracked in dirt and grass with us. The sheets were filthy. I got shorts on and stood, shaking Erica by the shoulder. "What?" she groaned. "Someone is at the door, and it's sun up. The worker might need to start working. I'll close the door and give you as much time as I can, but could you at least put on a top in case anyone pops in here by accident?" "Let 'em look," Erica grunted. "What happened to those being my tits, and mine alone?" I grinned. "..... Fine," she said and held up a hand in the air. I found her a shirt and put it in her hand, and she started trying to get it on without lifting her head from the pillow or opening her eyes. I shut the bedroom door behind me and met up with Leo in the hallway; he was only slightly more dressed than I was, with a single sock and an undershirt over his shorts. "Mornin'" he grunted. "Yep," I said, and we headed for the door. When I opened it I was expecting Vanessa and her big 'gorilla' work crew, but instead it was Agent Sourpuss. It was even earlier in the day than I had expected. "What took you two so long?" she said, sneering at the two of us. "Never mind, come with me." She started walking around the house, so Leo and I followed barefoot. Just as we were stepping out and shutting the front door, the crew vans started pulling in, ferrying the surveyors and workers. A few of them called and waved, taunting us for looking like we were getting called to the Principal's office. "We have solved the temporary housing issue for you two," Agent Sourpuss said as we rounded the corner, and she presented us with the new additions to the backyard. Hunkered up next to the two sea cans that all of our stuff was being loaded into for storage were two brand new, state-of-the-art, still gleaming chrome and white from the lot, RVs. The two fuckers were huge. I had no idea how anyone other than an 18-wheeler truck driver could pilot one of them. They had to be worth at least a couple hundred thousand dollars each. "God damn," I said, coming awake. "One for each of us?" Leo asked. "You and your partners," the Agent said. "Follow me." We did, crossing the backyard as the Agent told us that we would need to be ready to move them at a moment's notice; our presence couldn't be allowed to slow down the construction process. We were also in charge of maintaining them, and organizing with the construction general manager when they arrived on site to make sure they were getting properly emptied (the septic) and filled (the fuel). "Mr. Lacoste, you have the one on the left," the Agent said, handing a set of keys to Leo. He actually giggled with glee, taking the keys and darting to his new home. "Mr. Black, yours is clearly the right. As is your new partner waiting for you inside," she said. I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?" "Your second partner drove with us this morning. She's waiting inside for you and is ready for imprinting. I suggest not making her wait too long." Agent Sourpuss then began to walk away, back to her car at the front of the house. "Wait, wait, wait," I said, following her. "I already have a partner. Erica and I are bonded or whatever." "Not how it works, Mr. Black," the Agent said, still walking. "You're rated at Tier Four, and you must have been somewhat open to a non-monogamous relationship, as is Miss Lacoste. Your new partner is suited to the two of you. You shouldn't keep her waiting." There wasn't any stopping her, so I diverted and headed back into the house. "Erica!" I called, heading for the stairs. "What?" she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes but coming out of my room dressed in my shirt from last night, and a pair of her shorts. "The Agent just dropped off the big ass RVs we're living in," I said. "And a woman who I'm supposed to bond with." "Oh, shit. That was fast," she said. "What do you mean, that was fast?" I asked. "You knew about this?" "I mean, they said at the information seminar that it was possible people would begin getting partnered into existing relationships based on the matchmaking and available matches," Erica said. We were heading down the stairs again. "I assumed since I'm Bi, and you're a guy, it wouldn't be unlikely we'd get someone else eventually. I didn't think it would be day three, obviously. Why would this person pick us over a single guy?" We got outside and to the RV, and I knocked. "It's open," called a voice. It was light and feminine, but with a distinct accent. I opened the door and mounted the steps, stopping when I saw the woman within, only for Erica to push me the rest of the way up so she could see as well. She was dark blonde, almost brunette, and her hair hung in waves down just past her shoulders. The woman was slight, and obviously so because all she was wearing was lingerie made up of thin mesh through which I could see her rosy pink nipples on her smallish tits, and lots of buckles for straps. The right side of her body was fresh and clean, though down the center of her abdomen, from under her chin all the way to her pubic mound, was a thin black line of a tattoo splitting her in half. On the left side of that tattoo her body was designed with black ink in floral tribal patterns, fleur-de-lis motifs and other designs. She was smiling demurely despite her dress and the fact that she was lounging in the sitting area of the RV, her legs splayed as she absently rubbed her twat through her mesh thong. "Bonjour," she said, grinning even brighter as Erica followed me in. Her accent was distinctly French Canadian and she couldn't be older than twenty-three. "My name is Ivy Gauthier, and I was expecting just a cock, but I am more than happy to make Mommy happy too if she wants to sit on my face." "Fuck," Erica said, and looked at me. "Can we keep her?" Ivy Erica, as usual, took to the rapidly changing social situation a little faster than I did. "So you're sure about all of this?" she asked the girl, Ivy. We were sitting in the lounge area of the RV that the government had delivered to us that morning. "Well, it is too late for me to back out now," Ivy said. She was French Canadian, with that very specific Quebecois accent that extended vowels and clipped some consonants. I only really knew the difference between hers and a traditional French-from-France accent because I'd once drank with a unit of French soldiers while I was deployed in Germany. "I have already been poked with the needles. I chose Harrison because he reminded me of a sexy version of the boys I grew up with in the north of Quebec. Very sexy lumberjack, yes?" Erica smirked, glancing at me and patting my knee. "Yes, very sexy woodsman." "As I said, I was not expecting a sexy woman as well, but I am the bisexual," Ivy continued. "In fact, Erica, you are very much my type." "And what type is that?" Erica asked. Ivy grinned but blushed, biting her lip for a moment as if she were embarrassed, but I could see the hunger in her big, expressive eyes. "Most girls in my job, they have what you call the 'Daddy Issues', yes? Well, my father made many mistakes, but was always very good to my sister et moil. An ex I have, she said I have 'Mommy Issues' instead. I like strong women, older than me, with tits and ass like yours." The little minx actually reached out and caressed the side of Erica's tit when she said it. "What job is it you've been working?" I asked, though I had a feeling I knew the general field. "I am a dancer," Ivy said, turning back to me and looking all the world like a worried teenager, rather than the seductive woman clad in mesh lingerie that was sitting between Erica and me. "I hope that is not so bad to you, Harrison. I know some men, they think it means I am dirty or spoiled. But I am not." Then she got another little lascivious smirk as she tilted her chin down looking up at you through her lashes. "Well, I could also be a very dirty girl for the right man. Or woman." She touched Erica's leg without looking. "Okay, seriously Ivy," I said. "Unless this is really who you are, and who you want to be, you can tone down the seduction. Erica and I aren't going to turn you away, but you have got to be real with us." Ivy frowned, and it was like she went through a little transformation as she absorbed what I said and metabolized it. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, then nodded and stood up, crossed to the murphy table that was in the kitchenette and pulled a robe I hadn't even noticed from where it was hanging. She wrapped it around herself quickly and then sat back down. "I am sorry," she said. "I am; this vaccine is making me very horny. I did not know what to expect, yes? I thought it best to treat you like private clients." "Oh, sweetie," Erica sighed. "I know. The nervousness, that little itch all over?" Ivy nodded. "Maybe let's start from the beginning," I suggested. "Just be honest with us." "I was being honest," Ivy said. "My name is Ivy Gauthier, I was born in a little town in northern Quebec and raised by my father and grandmother, along with my sister. I am an exotic dancer. I started in Montreal, and decided to try and do a tour of the USA. My visa was running out when the Quarantine happened. They said it would not be a problem if I took the experimental vaccine." "Wait, hold on," I said. "Fuck. Would you have taken the vaccine if you weren't worried about your visa?" Ivy thought about it and then shrugged. "I don't know? Maybe? I never had to think about it without the visa on the table." "This is fucked up," I said. "And it's too late to change anything," Erica said. "Harri, you know it's too late." "I know," I grunted. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it." "And you know if it's not you, it'll be someone else." I took in a long breath and nodded. "Ivy, I assume you went through the whole set of meetings and videos that Erica did, but I just have to ask; are you absolutely sure you want this?" Ivy pursed her lips, looking between Erica and me. Her hands were in her lap, most of her tattoos covered by the worn, velvet red robe she was wearing. She looked younger and older at the same time. She ended up looking to Erica. "Is he a good man?" "The best," Erica said immediately. "And is she a good woman?" Ivy asked me. I took Erica's hand in mine. "Better than anyone could ever deserve." "Then I am fine with this," Ivy said. "It is the end of the world, oui? Why should I not be with two sexy people who love each other, and will share their bed with me?" Erica laughed. "Well, she's direct." "Alright. You know what the next steps are?" I asked Ivy. "You fuck me, and I will become your; how did they say.? Umm, bonded something?" "We haven't figured out the right word yet either," Erica said. "For now, it might be easiest if you're just our fuckbuddy." "I like this," Ivy said. "You two are a couple, and I will be your fuckbuddy." The way she said it made it sound a little sillier, a little naughtier. This girl would have been dangerous if Erica and I weren't in the current situation. "You have some time," I said. "Would you rather wait a bit, or do it now?" "Now," Ivy said. "I would very much like to taste you, Erica. While Harrison fucks my ass." "Wow, that's very hot and specific," Erica said. Ivy smiled. "I am what you would say is an 'Anal Queen.' My father, he had children with three different women. It made me afraid of pregnancy, so I learned as a girl to prefer it in my butt." "Well, I guess you're getting to crush some ass, babe," Erica said, smirking and then kissing me on the cheek. "Hey, you know what?" I asked. "However you want it, Ivy, I'm happy to provide. Is there anything else you'd like us to know before we go to the bed?" Ivy stood up, slipping the robe back off of her and hanging it back up. "I can be very loud," she said. "Just a warning. And I like many things, but this time, I think we keep it to a simple threesome, yes? I will suck cock and eat cunt, and I would very much like to be fingered, and fucked in the ass." "So simple," Erica chuckled. "Ivy, I think Harrison is still a little hesitant; he is a natural protector, so don't think he's timid. He's just worried and doesn't want to take advantage." "Oh," Ivy said, looking at me for a moment with a cocked head, taking my measure. "Now I; Okay, yes, I understand." She came forward and pushed me back by the shoulders until I was sitting fully upright on the cushioned bench seat instead of leaning forward. Then she crawled into my lap, on her knees with them outside my legs, and sat her perky bum on my legs. "Harrison, I have told you I think you are sexy, yes? Well here, I will prove it." She took my hand and brought my fingers to her lips, taking my pointer and middle fingers and sucking on them lewdly, then bringing them down between us to her crotch. She pulled the mesh panties aside and put my fingers against her hole and pivoted, taking my two thick fingers into her clenching cunt. "I want to fuck you. And I will tell you another thing about me; I like a man who takes me how he wants. Throw me on the bed, put my legs behind my head. Make me your little pretzel girl as you fuck my ass. I am sure I will love this 'big brother' you in time, too. But I need you first to be my man." Then she kissed me, grinding on my fingers. I breathed in through my nose, and she pressed her chest against mine, and I reached around her with the hand that wasn't busy at her cunt and grabbed her ass firmly. "Umm, yes," she mumbled into my mouth. "Like that." "God, I hope I didn't look that fucking horny when I kissed you that first time," Erica said. She was still sitting on the other end of the L-shaped bench from us, watching me get frenched by the little French minx who had just fallen into our lives. I pulled back from the kiss, and Ivy looked at me with concern, searching my face. "Go kiss Erica," I said. She grinned and slipped from my lap, my fingers leaving her cunt, and slid right onto Erica's lap and pulled my girlfriend into a hard kiss as their disproportionate tits pressed together. Erica was much bustier than Ivy, though the younger woman's figure was just as sexy. As they started to make out I stood up, walking to the back of the RV and surveying the space. The back of the vehicle was dominated by the bedroom, which had what looked like a bed that was too big for the space. I pulled the blanket and top sheet off of it, knowing how Erica had a tendency to leave wet spots after fucking, and then kicked off my boots and returned to the women. "Alright, come here," I said, and lifted Ivy off of Erica and tossed her over my shoulder so I was carrying her ass forward. She howled a laugh, kicking her legs, and I offered Erica my other hand up. "She is going to be a lot of fun," Erica said. "I know," I said. "But I need to ask you, too. Is this what you want?" Erica smiled, almost sadly, and shrugged. "I told you I'd introduce you to a lot of strippers. I just didn't know it would happen so fast. Like she said, it's the end of the world, at least as we know it. Why not?" I nodded, and then bounced Ivy on my shoulder and gave her a soft spank on the butt. "What are you giggling so hard for?" "Nothing," she said. "Everything." "Crazy French girl," I said, and carried her to the end of the RV and tossed her on the bed like she wanted. She landed and immediately twisted and turned, biting her lip as she positioned herself on her stomach, looking at me eagerly as she slowly kicked her legs and her little bum bounced, humping the air a little. "Oh, I think she wants to suck your cock," Erica said, coming up behind me and resting her cheek on my shoulder. She reached around my waist and started lowering my shorts. "Is that what you want, Ivy?" Ivy nodded, grinning. "Well, I've got a surprise for a naughty girl. You are very lucky, because you picked a man who happens to have a very nice, fat cock." Erica said, and dropped my shorts, letting my mostly-hard cock out. "Oh, fuck," Ivy said, her eyes going happily large. "It is a very good cock." She looked up at Erica. "May I please suck the very good cock?" "Good manners," Erica said. "Yes, Ivy, you may suck Harrison. But from now on you should call it his fat cock." "Yes, mo" the rest of what she was saying became garbled as she leaned forward and spoke with the head of my cock between her lips, and came. She hadn't been expecting it, and her legs started to kick as she tensed up and pulled away from my cock, lowering her face to the bed. Then her body released all its tension and she sucked in a deep, ragged breath. "Woah!" she exhaled, loud and wordless, as a second wave of the orgasm passed through her. Erica reached around and ran her fingers through Ivy's hair as the smaller, younger woman rode a third and final wave of the vaccine-induced orgasm. She was left panting, and rolled over onto her back and looked back up at us in confusion and what looked like drunken delight. "What was that? I have never come so fast," she said in wonder "Didn't they tell you to expect that?" Erica asked. Ivy shook her head. "Huh, that's weird. They told my group," Erica said. "That was the imprinting process starting. Can you feel that ache, down in your clit? That's the vaccine too. Soon you'll feel it on your tongue, aching to get Harri's come anywhere you can inside you." "I already wanted this," Ivy said, her grin not slipping. She rolled back over onto her stomach and opened her mouth, but then hesitated. "Does this,” "No," I said, "Not every time." "Too bad, but also good," Ivy said. "It would be very hard to suck your cock if this happened every time." Then she took me back into her mouth and began bobbing her head quickly. I had a feeling she was actually a brunette and dyed her hair up to the dirty blonde she wore it. The dark undertones were more real than the light ones. Erica came around me now and slipped out of her shorts, going down to her panties and my shirt she'd been wearing, and got on her knees on the bed next to Ivy. She sat tall, and I kissed her as Ivy suckled on my cock. "Enjoy yourself, babe," Erica assured me. "We both want this." I raised an eyebrow and reached around her, grabbing her meatier ass. "You don't need to keep reassuring me, E. Or does 'mommy' need a good seeing to as well?" "Oh, I always need a good seeing to," Erica grinned. She started to lower down slowly, maintaining eye contact with me. "But first I think I need to make sure our naughty girl here knows how to treat you properly. Let me see you suck his cock, Ivy." Ivy beamed up at me, eyes flicking between my face and Erica's as the older woman leaned close. "Good, really slobber on that cock," Erica said softly, stroking Ivy's hair. "It's going to be cracking that cute little ass of yours open soon, so it needs to be very hard and very slippery." Ivy mumbled something unintelligible. "But don't forget his balls," Erica said. Ivy immediately took my cock from her mouth and lifted it with a hand, trying to take my sack between her lips but only fitting one nut as she tongued and worked her mouth. Erica took Ivy's place at my cock, putting her lips around the head and starting to blow me. "Oh, fuck, that's new," I groaned, looking down at both women staring up at me with smiles in their eyes. I put a hand on each of their heads. Ivy didn't let up, switching from one ball to the other as my cock rubbed across her face, but Erica popped off of the end and grinned at me before sliding back on the bed and taking up a position behind Ivy. "Now, what do we have here?" Erica asked, wrapping her fingers into the elastic band of Ivy's mesh panties. "Someone is a very naughty girl, dressing so slutty. Look, I can see everything! So what could possibly be the point of this?" She started pulling the panties down over Ivy's ass, and the younger woman shifted her hips eagerly, letting her do it. "Back to my cock now," I grunted, and Ivy followed my orders. Once I was back in her mouth, I ran my fingers down the side of her face, just watching as she looked up at me with adoringly needy eyes. Erica had gotten Ivy's panties off, and she tossed them aside as she knelt next to the pale girl and started to massage her upturned butt. "Ivy, you have a very cute ass," she said, stroking the girl's smooth skin. Just like her front, Ivy had a thin black line running down the middle of her spine, bisecting her from her hairline all the way down to her ass crack. On one side of the line her pale, smooth skin was flawless. On the other, she sported a collection of black tattoos; most of them flowery and nicely designed, a few of them more 'witchy' like flying crows and a jagged, leafless tree. "M'ank 'oo," Ivy mumbled around my cock, and wiggled her butt. Erica quickly sucked two fingers into her mouth and, biting the inside of her lip as she grinned, slipped them down between Ivy's legs and began slowly, teasingly fingering the younger woman's cunt. Ivy immediately responded by shuddering and starting to blow me faster, bobbing her head as she moaned with my cock in her mouth, pressing against the inside of her cheeks. "For a girl who prefers it in the ass, our naughty little girl gets very wet," Erica said to me. "Is that right?" I asked, and looked down at Ivy and her big eyes. "Do you get wet and ready for a cock even if you don't want one in that hole?" "Umm hmm," she hummed and nodded, then pulled her lips from my cock. "When I am ready, the right man will have a very good time with my naughty cunt." Erica leaned forward, bringing her lips to Ivy's ear from behind. "And what about Harrison? Is he the right man?" I could see the conflict warring in Ivy. She didn't know; her instincts were to shy away. But the vaccine, that need and horniness it had put in Erica, was in Ivy as well. She wanted me, wanted my cum. Wanted it inside her, to match with the vaccine. Chemically, she wanted to say yes. "You don't need to answer that," I told her reassuringly, stroking the side of her face again. Then I glanced at Erica, who raised an eyebrow at me, but I just shook my head. Ivy, a thankful look in her eyes, quickly went back to blowing me while Erica played with her cunt. Eventually I pulled away, and in one move picked up and flipped Ivy over onto her back. She giggled, and I was glad that she'd been honest with me about wanting to be thrown around in bed; I would have likely asked, or maybe told, her to move. Instead she seemed to really enjoy the manhandling. "Get the rest of the lingerie off," I said. The mesh bra did nothing to hide her perky, small boobs from me, but I wanted her naked. There was a practical element; once the bonding process was completed, she was going to zonk out and having that strappy lingerie on for hours and hours wouldn't be good for her or it. But there was also a primal thing in me that just wanted this strangely innocent, strangely filthy girl naked for me. She stripped quickly, and Erica took that time to peel off my shirt that she was wearing as well, revealing her bigger, heavy tits. "Oh, my," Ivy said, and sat up, reaching for Erica's chest. "You are so beautiful, Erica." Erica grinned and leaned forward a bit, allowing Ivy to press her face into Erica's cleavage. "She's like a horny teenage boy," Erica laughed. Ivy was kissing and licking her cleavage all over. "So am I, when it comes to you," I said, and slipped off the bed to stand behind her, kissing her on the cheek and then down to her neck while I reached around and cupped her tits from below, lifting them for Ivy to feast on. "Oh, god, this is heaven," Erica moaned, leaning her head back on my shoulder. "Have you ever done a threesome before?" I asked her quietly. "Once. Three women," she mumbled. "Not that great, really." "Too much fake cock?" I asked. "That, and tribbing is stupid. Doesn't do anything for me, and they both loved it." "Hear that, Ivy? No tribbing," I said. "But can I eat her cunt?" Ivy asked, coming up for air from the bounty of tits she was enjoying. "I think my answer is 'whenever you want,'" Erica laughed. "First I want more of your mouth," I said to Ivy. "Lay back down. And Erica, I'd love to see you eat her out." Erica grinned. "Ever seen a lesbian act in person before?" "Nothing more explicit than two drunk girls kissing to rile up some guys at a party," I said. Ivy had lain back, spreading her legs, and Erica knelt between them and slowly brought her face down to Ivy's bare cunt. It was pretty, almost like the clean and clinical specimen you would see in a biology textbook. "Do you want me to lick your cunt, Ivy?" Erica asked teasingly. "Yes, please," Ivy said and grabbed the bedspread in her fingers in anticipation. Erica went to work, and Ivy moaned loudly and wordlessly as her body tensed and then relaxed into the sensations. "Is it good," I asked. "Uh-huh," Ivy nodded and moaned. I knelt down next to her head and turned her face sideways, tapping my cock against her lips. She immediately opened them, and I slid between her lips and she began suckling. Then, after looking down and seeing the smile in Erica's eyes as she watched me getting blown while she ate cunt, I began to thrust lightly into Ivy's mouth. The dirty blonde dropped her jaw, and worked her tongue, and soon I was pumping steadily, treating her lips just roughly enough to feel divine. I reached down and palmed her tit, which so far had been almost entirely ignored. I happened to grab the tattooed side of her, where the boob itself was still a blank canvas but was surrounded by them dark patterns. Her nipple was a firm little nub in my palm, and her moaning on my cock changed to a higher pitch when I grabbed her more firmly, and then began playing with her nipple between my fingers. Erica, seeing the change in Ivy, mimicked me and reached up for her other tit and grabbed it as well. "Muh," Ivy moaned, but didn't try to pull away from my thrusting. She whined on my cock, thrusting her hips up and down, grinding against Erica's face. Then, seeing her coming to a peak, I thrust in and held my cock deep in her mouth, but not to the point of gagging her. I pinched the nipple I was holding, and Erica focused on her clit, and Ivy went off with a long shudder and another muffled howl. I pulled my cock from her mouth when she was coming down. "Keep going," I told Erica. "Get her there again." Then I stepped off of the bed and behind Erica, whose panty-clad ass was up in the air at the edge of the bed. I pulled her panties down to her thighs, set my cock against her puffy cunt, and thrust inside firmly, claiming her as mine again. "Yes, babe," Erica gasped into Ivy's cunt. "Fuck, yes, my fucking stud." "Oh, fuck," Ivy groaned, eyes half-closed as she grabbed at her own tits harshly and watched me fucking Erica from behind. Within five thrusts I was burying deep into my girlfriend at a good, steady pace. "You two are so fucking hot," Ivy said breathily, her accent turning every croon into a delightful sentence instead of something that might have come across as crude. I fucked Erica steadily, one hand on her hip and the other keeping hold of her wonderful ass, and she thrust back at me while trying to keep her lips and tongue working. I wanted Erica to feel how desirable I found her, even in this threesome with a brand new woman between us. I wanted her to know she wasn't just forced on me; she was a choice. She chose me, and I chose her back. Leaning forward, I let go of her waist and ass and grabbed her tits hanging below her, palming them and lifting their weight as she remained ass up and face down in Ivy's cunt. "I fucking love you, E," I said. "I love your body, I love your personality, and I love your mind. And right now, I really love how fucking sexual you are." "Fuck," Ivy groaned. "Fuck, that is so hot." Erica was starting to falter in her fucking back at me, which I knew meant she was getting close but I wanted to push her farther. "Ivy," I said. "It's almost time. How much prep does your ass need?" Ivy licked her lips, that carnal need growing inside of her with every passing minute. "For most guys, two fingers would be enough. But for you, I think three, if Mommy will do it for me?" "What do you think, 'mommy,'" I grinned. "Are you up for prepping her?" Erica slurped off of Ivy's cunt and flipped the girl onto her stomach, then spread her ass cheeks and spit onto her asshole. "For her, and to watch you fuck this cute little ass, absolutely," Erica said. I really couldn't see all that much of the oral portion of the prep, since I continued to fuck Erica. I slowed, and thrust deep and firm instead of faster and harder, and gave her the chance to work. Soon enough, Erica had two fingers in Ivy's ass and was adding a third. "Oh, mommy, yes," Ivy moaned. "Finger my ass. Spread my asshole for our man. God, I want that fat cock up my ass so badly. Harrison, please don't make me wait. Please don't back out, I need it so badly." "Who does this ass belong to now, Ivy?" Erica asked her. "Fuck, fuck," Ivy gasped. Erica slapped the side of her ass cheek. "Who does this ass belong to now, dirty little girl?" "Harrison," Ivy moaned. "Oh, fuck, Harrison. Fuck my ass. Take my ass. Take it. Take it." I pulled out of Erica, watching for just a moment as her cunt was split by me and didn't want to let go, then hopped back up on the bed. Erica pulled her fingers out of Ivy's hole, and I spun the younger woman around on the bed and pulled her up onto her hands and knees. Ivy dropped her face to the mattress as she reached back and held her ass cheeks open, her butthole winking at me. "Fuck my ass. Please, Butt fuck me. Own my butt," she panted. I placed my cock to her asshole and pressed forward. "Oh, fuck yes," Ivy almost howled. "Oh, it is so good. Merci, merci, oh fuck yes." I was halfway in when she finally clenched and I stopped. Erica, meanwhile, had shifted her seating on the bed so she was on her ass, and she spread her legs in front of Ivy's face. "Hey, now it's time for you to lick my cunt, dirty girl," she said. Ivy lifted her head and groaned as she tasted Erica for the first time, and as she did Ivy's ass relaxed, and I pushed in the rest of the way. "Yes," she mumbled. "Yes, fuck, so good. So full." I slowly pulled back out, then pushed back in. I'd tried anal before, once with a German girl I met off base, but it had been tough going. With Ivy, it was like she was just built different. She squeezed back at me, pushed to get me deeper. "She really is an Anal Queen," I gasped to Erica, who opened her eyes and grinned savagely at me. "I can't believe you're fucking her in the ass right now," she said. "Neither can I," I said, and started to properly thrust into that tight but forgiving asshole. "She's fucking good with her tongue, too," Erica groaned. "I can feel myself getting soaked." "Careful," I snickered. "There are the only sheets we have right now." "Oh, fuck off," Erica laughed. I had just started fucking into Ivy harder still, and she was sucking in deep breaths and moaning like a pornstar, when there was a loud banging on the main door of the RV. There was absolutely no way they couldn't hear what was happening in here, let alone that I had to assume the RV was rocking a bit. "Don't stop," Ivy gasped, lifting her face from Erica's cunt and begging me over her shoulder. "Please, keep fucking my ass. You can't stop. I need you to keep going." "Fuck, I was so close," Erica groaned, and the knocking happened again, banging on the door. Erica rolled off the bed. "You can't stop now, you might break her mind. I'll deal with this." "Yes, Harri, fuck me. So good, fuck my ass. Fuck my ass!" Ivy moaned, even fucking louder now that she didn't have Erica's cunt to muffle her. Erica stalked naked out into the main area of the RV, and she slipped on the robe that Ivy had been using earlier. She pulled it closed in the front and opened the door. "Hey, so this is awkward,” I could hear Vanessa say, but then I was shocked when instead of going outside to talk to her, Erica reached out and pulled her inside the RV. "Fuck, E! You didn't shut the door," I said. "Oh, shit. Sorry!" Erica called, and I only half believed her. There was one long moment of chaos where Vanessa was inside, looking down the length of the RV right at me as I was thrusting away, my nuts slapping against Ivy's cunt as I fucked her ass at speed. "Fuck," I grunted, and I made to pull out. "No, please, merde. Don't stop fucking my ass. Don't stop. Fuck my little ass. Come inside, I need you to come inside. Rempli-moi, mon homme. Mon cher. Fuck, mon amour!" I couldn't stop. I was so fucking close to coming, but I also had to move. So I did the only thing I could do; I wrapped my arms around Ivy's torso, fucked my cock as deep into her ass as I could, and picked her up and lifted her off of the bed. "Fuck, mon amour. I love you fucking my ass. Own my ass, mon amour. Fill me, fuck me," she babbled. I got us out of direct line of sight, pressing Ivy against the wall of the RV just next to the door to the bedroom, and I fumbled with one hand and slammed it shut as I kept thrusting into her. "Fuck. Fuck! I want you, I want it inside. Je veux croquer la pomme. Je suis très mouillée pour toi, mon amour. Fuck me. I love you?" she gasped the last words, like she was unsure, but enlightened by the idea. And then I came, pressing her up against the wood paneling and carpet of the RV walls. I came deep inside her ass, and she leaned back into me as her entire body shook. Her jaw was clenched tight, a small whine coming through almost like one of those dog whistles. "Sorry about that, Vanessa," I heard Erica talking through the walls. "We got a new vaccine partner who moved in with the RV. We were just, um, going through the bonding process." "That is; I mean, I'm sorry?" Vanessa mumbled. "It was obvious what was... happening, but we kind of need to get to work again. I wasn't expecting you to..." "That's totally my fault," Erica said. "I was a little fuck drunk; Harrison is very capable, and our new partner Ivy has a very skilled tongue." ".....Okay," Vanessa exhaled. That was when it felt more like I was holding Ivy up, rather than her standing on her own, and I carefully pulled my cock from her still-clenching butt and scooped her up in my arms. "Imprinting. Imprinting," she was mumbling. "Still fucking creepy," I grumbled, shaking my head as I looked at her in my arms. She was all woman, but like this I couldn't help but feel protective of the young woman who'd been forced into making choices that led her to my bed. The whole experience was amazing, but it was still... ugh. I set Ivy down on the bed and lay the sheet over her, and she curled up around a pillow and continued to mumble. This let me find and pull my shorts back on and exit the room. Erica was sitting on the murphy table, which she'd folded down, and Vanessa was sitting on the L-bench. "Vanessa, I am so sorry you got an eyeful of me like that," I said. "No, it's fine," Vanessa said, raising a hand. "You guys explained some of it last night, and Erica was just telling me again about the whole vaccine process and stuff. I didn't realize that's what this was and you couldn't, ah, interrupt the process." I nodded, and during the following brief conversation I apologized a couple more times. We quickly went through the plan for the day; which included finishing up all the rest of the moving out of the house so that it could be demolished the next morning. "And that's it," Vanessa nodded. "Uh, before I go; could I see her?" "You mean Ivy?" Erica asked. "Yeah," Vanessa said. "I mean, not if she's in a compromising position or whatever. But last night you and Leo talked about the 'imprinting' thing, and I'm probably going to have to do that eventually. I'd like to see it beforehand." I sucked my teeth for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, I think she should be decent." I led Vanessa to the back of the RV and opened the bedroom door. Ivy was still where I'd left her. Vanessa scooted around the outside of the bed, leaning forward and watching Ivy's face as she smiled and mumbled 'Imprinting' over and over. "That's freaky," Vanessa whispered, standing back up and coming out of the room. "But she's also gorgeous." "Just wait until you see her tattoos," Erica said. "She has some really interesting work done." "Yeah?" Vanessa asked. "Cool. I'm looking forward to meeting her." Erica smiled. "So, uh, how long before you need us?" "Like, twenty minutes ago," Vanessa smirked. "No," Erica shook her head. "I mean, how long until you need us." "Oh!" Vanessa said again, her eyes going wide. "Um.. another... fifteen minutes?" Erica smiled and winked. "I'll make it work." Vanessa, blushing, left the RV and shut the door behind her, while Erica turned and dropped the robe, revealing her naked body to me again. "I need you to fuck my orgasm back to life, babe," she said, staring hotly. "Fuck me fast and hard." I pulled her into my arms, laughing along with her as I glanced around the RV, deciding which part of the big luxury vehicle we should christen first. With Ivy safely tucked away in the back of the RV, and Erica and I working the knots out of her system quickly, it really was time to get to work. While Erica and I had been busy, Leo had been equally busy, going to wake up Danielle and show her their new temporary home as well. "Come on, rabbits," Erica called, knocking on the back window of their RV. "You would have been so pissed if he did that to you," I said. Erica laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, so?" "You two have a very different relationship than me and my sister," I said. The curtain on the window pulled aside a little, Leo glancing out and glaring at Erica. "Fuck off," he said, flashing her the finger. "We need to get to work!" Erica called again. Leo looked like he was about to say something snarky, but was pulled away and Danielle was now in the open corner of the window. "Sorry," she said, barely audible through the glass and over the sounds of construction work happening nearby. "I'll make sure we're quick." Her angelic face flashed us both a smile, and then she dropped the curtain. "Did you see what I saw?" Erica asked, turning to me. "You mean her whole naked tit?" I asked. "God damn, it's like that girl was manufactured to be 'Sexiest Woman Alive," Erica chuckled. "I don't know about that," I said, taking her hand and leading her away. "You'd give her a run for her money." "Compliments will serve you well, boyfriend," Erica smiled, squeezing my hand and winking. It turned out that the surveyors didn't need major tours again yet, so I was more free to help with the packing and the moving. Once Leo and Danielle joined us; letting us know the water pressure in the RV showers was pitiful at best; the work went quickly. We moved our clothing and things we knew we'd need sooner than later into the RVs, everything else got moved into the storage containers. A third container was dropped off to help with housing Leo's woodworking equipment, which gave us more space to start organizing things as well. How long did a house take to build? How long until they even started on our houses? These were the sorts of questions we just didn't have answers to, so we had to guess we would probably be in the RVs at least through the fall and winter and into next year. It was around the middle of the afternoon, and I was busy securing my father's old gun safe in the storage container with the woodworking tools, when I heard the telltale sound of another vehicle pulling up the driveway. Not three days ago, that sort of commotion would have had me wondering who it could be, and why they were out here in the middle of nowhere. And that wasn't just because of the pandemic quarantine; it had been that way my whole childhood. There were three kinds of visitors to the Black family ranch; expected, in need, and unwanted. Now I heard vans and trucks moving almost constantly, and there must have been thirty or more people working just within fifty yards and I'd only met half of them. It was strange. "Excuse me, Mr. Black?" A man asked. I turned from the gun safe and found a scraggly-looking kid, maybe all of twenty and looking like he was all bones and unkempt facial hair. He was wearing a reflective construction vest and had a hard hat tucked under one arm. "Just Harrison is fine," I said, shutting the safe and spinning the dial to lock it. "What can I do for you? Is Vanessa looking for me?" "Who? No, I don't think so," the kid said. "I'm with the grading crew working on the highway? There's, uh, some people who showed up demanding to talk to you." I took a breath and nodded. It could have been a couple of different people. "What did they look like?" "Well," he hesitated. "There were two women and three men, and they pulled up in a green pickup truck and a white panel van." "Kid, are they all Natives?" I asked. "Um, yeah," he said, clearly uncomfortable. He'd likely grown up somewhere far from a reservation, and probably in a major city, so his experience was limited to a little bubble. "Alright, I know what this is," I sighed. Part of me considered opening the gun safe back up, but I ended up figuring it would just make things worse. Guns usually did. It was tempting, though. I followed the kid out to the front and waved down Erica and Vanessa as they were talking on the front stoop of the house. "Hey, I need to head down to t

This week on Web Tales, Marc and Batch dive deep into Spectacular Spider-Man #22!Spider-Man throws down with Moon Knight in their very first clash—but that's just the beginning. We're talking Kraven's own shady "Epstein-style" list, Marc's ongoing beef with Frenchie (who he insists is an offensive stereotype), and the chaos of the Great Poutine-Off, where none other than Celine Dion sits in judgment.It's web-slinging action, conspiracy theories, and greasy Quebecois cuisine—just another day in the multiverse of Web Tales.

The Fantasia International Film Festival returns for its 29th edition, running from July 17 to August 8, 2025, and promises another electrifying celebration of genre cinema from around the world. With its full slate now unveiled across three waves of programming, Fantasia 2025 continues its tradition of championing daring filmmakers and boundary-pushing storytelling.Among the major highlights this year is Yuji Shimomura's highly anticipated Crazy Musashi, penned by cult favorite Sion Sono. Also debuting is the world premiere of The Beast Within by genre auteur Gabriel Carrer, while Bertrand Mandico's surreal She Is Conan the Barbarian will receive its North American premiere following acclaim in Cannes. Other festival standouts include Kiah Roache-Turner's creature feature Beast of War, and Macoto Tezuka's live-action adaptation Barbara II, based on the manga by Osamu Tezuka.Fantasia 2025 will also spotlight a robust Quebecois lineup, particularly through the Fantastiques Week-ends du cinéma québécois, which includes 77 short and feature films from emerging and established local talent. This year's program emphasizes bold, original visions, including the premiere of David B. Ricard's mockumentary Alien Tribute, and Alexandre Prieur-Grenier's nightmarish Enfer en eau trouble.The festival continues its legacy of nurturing new voices with its Camera Lucida and Axis sections, while also welcoming back returning favorites such as Larry Fessenden (Blackout), Takashi Shimizu (Immersion), and Calvin Lee Reeder (Yummy Fur).With over 130 feature films, dozens of special events, and a strong presence of Asian, North American, and international genre cinema, Fantasia 2025 affirms itself as one of the world's premier showcases for fantastical film.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-projection-booth-podcast--5513239/support.

The Fantasia International Film Festival returns for its 29th edition, running from July 17 to August 8, 2025, and promises another electrifying celebration of genre cinema from around the world. With its full slate now unveiled across three waves of programming, Fantasia 2025 continues its tradition of championing daring filmmakers and boundary-pushing storytelling.Among the major highlights this year is Yuji Shimomura's highly anticipated Crazy Musashi, penned by cult favorite Sion Sono. Also debuting is the world premiere of The Beast Within by genre auteur Gabriel Carrer, while Bertrand Mandico's surreal She Is Conan the Barbarian will receive its North American premiere following acclaim in Cannes. Other festival standouts include Kiah Roache-Turner's creature feature Beast of War, and Macoto Tezuka's live-action adaptation Barbara II, based on the manga by Osamu Tezuka.Fantasia 2025 will also spotlight a robust Quebecois lineup, particularly through the Fantastiques Week-ends du cinéma québécois, which includes 77 short and feature films from emerging and established local talent. This year's program emphasizes bold, original visions, including the premiere of David B. Ricard's mockumentary Alien Tribute, and Alexandre Prieur-Grenier's nightmarish Enfer en eau trouble.The festival continues its legacy of nurturing new voices with its Camera Lucida and Axis sections, while also welcoming back returning favorites such as Larry Fessenden (Blackout), Takashi Shimizu (Immersion), and Calvin Lee Reeder (Yummy Fur).With over 130 feature films, dozens of special events, and a strong presence of Asian, North American, and international genre cinema, Fantasia 2025 affirms itself as one of the world's premier showcases for fantastical film.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-projection-booth-podcast--5513239/support.

Patrice Dutil discusses the significance of the founding of the Parti québécois by René Lévesque on 11 October 1968 with Xavier Gélinas, a specialist on the Québec "Quiet Revolution" and curator of Politics at the Canadian Museum of History. This podcast is available in French on Témoins d'hier. This podcast was produced by Naomi Katz and Richard Anstey in the Allan Slaight Radio Institute at Ryerson University. If you like our work, please consider supporting it: bit.ly/support_WTY. Your support contributes to the Champlain Society's mission of opening new windows to directly explore and experience Canada's past.

Cette semaine aux Anti-Pods de la Lutte, Kevin et Pat discutent des nombreux nouveaux champions à la WWE, font un retour sur Night of Champions et parlent de la carte de MLP mettant en vedette PCO et plusieurs Québécois. Tout ça et bien plus dans un autre épisode à ne pas manquer. Pour de l'information concernant l'utilisation de vos données personnelles - https://omnystudio.com/policies/listener/fr

In this episode we answer questions from Mason, Brian, and Anonymous.  We discuss portfolio transitions from a highly overlapped portfolio and related consideration, treasury strips funds and leveraged ETFs (twice), and the power of advice from the great Jim Rohn.  UNLIMITED POWER.Just remember that "Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion."And we discuss our campaign for the Father McKenna Center and Quebecois updates to our website.Links:Father McKenna Center Donation Page:  Donate - Father McKenna CenterThe Source of the "We Don't Know" Clip:  Jim Rohn Join the 3% Club and Walk away from the 97%Breathless Unedited AI-Bot Summary:Transforming your portfolio into a risk parity approach doesn't have to be complicated, but it does require both strategy and courage. This episode dives deep into listener questions about making that transition while navigating tax implications and psychological barriers.When Mason asks about converting his advisor-built collection of funds into a risk parity portfolio, Frank reveals a crucial insight most investors miss: holding multiple similar funds creates "false diversification." Those four large-cap funds in your portfolio? They're basically the same investment with different names. True diversification comes from understanding what's inside each fund, not collecting different tickers.For those curious about leveraged ETFs like UPRO, Brian's question leads to fascinating observations about why some leveraged products perform better than others. The conversation reveals why Treasury strips funds like GOVZ/ZROZ make reasonable substitutions for standard Treasury allocations, while leveraged gold ETFs might be problematic for long-term investors. Frank shares his personal experience reducing his own UPRO allocation and explains why experimentation with small portions of your portfolio is the wisest approach to newer investment strategies.The philosophical foundation of the show emerges when a listener asks about the "Nobody Knows" sound clip. The attribution to motivational speaker Jim Rohn opens a window into the mindset that drives successful investing. Rohn's philosophy that "affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion" perfectly captures why just thinking about better investment outcomes isn't enough—you must take action to create them.Ready to reshape your investment approach? This episode provides both the practical steps and the motivational spark to move forward confidently. As Rohn reminds us, "If you think investing is risky, wait till you get the tab for not investing."Support the show

At the NATO summit, the Prime Minister promises to spend a lot more on defence; Cesar Jaramillo, the chair of a Canadian disarmament group says that if the aim is to make the world safer, the move is way off target.Chandra Pasma, a provincial parliamentarian, tells us about her efforts to get the Ontario government to do more to address extreme heat in schools and other workplaces across the province.An activist in Kenya tells us she thought things would be peaceful today, when protestors commemorated a deadly protest one year ago. Instead, history repeated itself.People have started to return to Denare Beach, Saskatchewan, after wildfires ripped through their village. One resident tells us going home isn't easy -- but it's therapeutic all the same.We remember ground-breaking Quebecois musician Serge Fiori, whose band Harmonium changed the music scene in the province by paving the way for homegrown talent.A poorly-timed wardrobe malfunction leads to an unfortunate photo finish -- in which an American hurdler wins the race while trying -- and failing -- to keep his shorts in place. As It Happens, the Wednesday Edition. Radio that always double-checks its equipment.

For years, Rachid Badouri has been one of Quebec's biggest comedy stars. His shows have sold millions of tickets around the world, he has a Netflix stand-up special called “Les fleurs du tapis,” and he's also a judge on “Quel talent!” (Quebec's version of “Canada's Got Talent”). But now, Rachid is ready to make a name for himself in the English-speaking world. He sits down with guest host Garvia Bailey to talk about his journey in comedy, what it's like translating his French jokes into English, and how stand-up has helped him embrace his Moroccan heritage. If you like this conversation, check out Tom Power's interview with Montreal comedian Sugar Sammy.

Curious about the biggest mistakes you might be making while learning French? In this episode of my Quebec French Podcast, I break down the top ten things you should absolutely avoid if you want to make real progress.From the pitfalls of memorizing vocabulary lists to the hidden downsides of language apps like Duolingo, I'll share practical insights based on years of teaching experience.If you're serious about improving your French—whether standard or Quebecois—this episode will help you refine your approach and save valuable time.To get the written version and fully formatted version of this podcast, go to www.frenchwithfrederic.comThis section is usually reserved for my paid members, but I've made it available to everyone this time. If you'd like to access our French classes, Book Club, and all the features of our French-learning community, upgrade your subscription today! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.frenchwithfrederic.com/subscribe

Are you looking for a movie about dark web child snuff films that you can show your Meemaw? Assuming she hasn't already watched it, we recommend the 2023 Quebecois feature “Les Chambres Rouges”, or “Red Rooms” if you don't speak French. Remember how we're doing a whole French language horror thing? The theme continues un petit peu.

Hell Rains Down.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. Would you choose ephemeral beauty, or rugged determination? Brief Segway :Senator Susan Collins of Maine, JIKIT's Congressional mentor, at our urging had proposed an amendment to the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 which would allow 'Turkey' to purchase six 'Oliver Perry class frigates for $10 million each. The same act already proposed four such vessels to be sold to Taiwan for the same amount as well as giving two to Thailand (and two to Mexico) free of charge.Things had immediately bogged down in the 113th US Congress. It was too easy for Democrats in both Houses to take the President's position that any additional weapons into the South China Sea area would further destabilize the region. The pro-PRC lobby was equally opposed to the bill. Under normal conditions, that would have been good enough to send the measure off to the procedural graveyard.Except in the current contrary nature of the US's chief legislative body, this meant Republicans found themselves drawn to the anything the White House opposed. They could claim they found the anti-Communist, anti-Islamic Extremists stance of the Khanate to be attractive to them though none of them felt the need to actually talk to anyone in the Khanate to find out what they were really all about.We were happy with that policy because true congressional oversight was the last thing we needed. They might start asking uncomfortable questions like...'Who gave you the authority to do any of the crap you pulled?'(No one. We lied like big dogs, purloined resources and cloaked ourselves in 'National Security'. Plus we let our elite personnel have a crack at doing what they had so dedicatedly trained to do, wreck things.)'Wasn't that, that, and that an act of war against the People's Republic of China?'('No comment'. If that didn't work, we would try 'they will never find out'.)'Why are 90% of all the names on these documents redacted? We are the freaking Congress! You work for us.'(Work for them? Not to our way of thinking. We earned our paychecks without any slavish devotion to corporate campaign contributions. We were working so that the lives of Americans and Brits abroad would be that much safer, the world more orderly and for the US and UK to have an ally they could really rely on. We couldn't tell them that. They'd throw us in jail. We'd redacted the records because the names were for people that did not officially exist, or existed in a capacity that didn't imply they were elite warriors, spies and assassins.)Besides,('Those are private citizens not in the employ of this group, or any other government agency we are aware of'.)'We don't care if they are private citizens. We want to know.'('You don't want to know' followed by some major gobbledygook with the term 'deniable assets' interspersed relatively often.)'What do you mean ~ you don't want to know? We asked you a question.'(We meant you people leak information like a sieve and the people we are protecting aren't going to be afraid of getting revealed. They are going to murder people to ensure they are not ~ basically you don't know what is going on and we don't want to tell you, for both our safety's sake.)So,('Trust us. There are factors we are taking into account that you are unaware of because you don't know what's going on'.)'Of course we don't know what's going on. That's why we are asking you.'('You really don't want to know.' We are your highly trained and underpaid experts on this, we aren't raging assholes and we are telling you that bad shit will happen if you force this, thus 'you really don't want to know'.)'What do you mean ~ you really don't want to know?? Yes, we do. We are warning you,'(Okay. Execute Plan B. 'Excuse us for a moment, {create a plausible lie.}'.){Pregnant pause,}Congressman-type: 'It is rather odd that they all had to go into another room to take that phone call.'{Minutes pass}'Go see what is taking them so long.''What do you mean they are all gone? Find them!''What do you mean they seem have left the building? Find them!''Who do I call about this? The FBI, Homeland Security, or the CIA?And finally,'What do you mean they appear to have fled the country? Find them, damn it!'(Hey, I worked with some real shady characters.)Then would come the international manhunts, the flight to avoid prosecution and then resurrecting my life under a different ID in another country which hopefully had a dim view of handing me over to the FBI, or the Navy SEALs.Now back to our regularly scheduled diversion :'It has to do with giving something to the Khanate if you expect them to do anything for you.'Tony: 'You can't appreciate how that is going to look. Besides, that is a political decision, way above your pay-grade.'(Not a good time to remind him that he didn't pay me.)'What precisely do you want us to do? Please be specific.'Tony: 'How is the Khanate going to react to an intervention on the part of the United States?''They will ignore you.'Tony: 'What if the President makes public statement.''What is he going to say?'Tony: 'That the US is dedicated to a peaceful resolution of the unrest in Thailand.''They won't care. They truly believe that actions speak louder than words. If Thailand requested our intervention, or was a client state,'Tony: 'A what?''Client state, a country beholding to the US, or UK for their external security.'Tony: 'I know what client state is. That is 20th Century Imperialist thinking. No one does stuff like that anymore. Besides, the UN is responsible for the external security of its member states, which Thailand is.''The Khanate doesn't see it that way. We won't let them into the UN, so they see no reason to play by the UN's rules. The President can evoke the UN Charter all he wants. Unless he makes UN acceptance dependent on their cooperation, they will see no reason to cooperate.'Tony: 'That's not going to happen.''What part of that won't happen?'Tony: 'The President is not going on international television and endorsing the Khanate as a prospective UN member. What happens if we imply through back channels that the President will support such an action at a later date?''You want us to lie to them? Do you have any idea how badly that will compromise our working relationship with the Khanate?'Tony: 'We will deal with that later. Would they accept such a bargain?''So you are going to lie to them, Mr. Blinken, they will never forgive this act of treachery.'Tony: 'No, you are going to lie to them.'Addison: 'I will resign. I suspect that the rest of the team will quit as well.'Tony: 'What is wrong with your team, Ms. Stuart (Addison)? Can't anyone over there do their damn jobs?''We are doing our damn jobs, Mr. Blinken. We are telling you this is a diplomatically fatal move that will not only reduce this taskforce to uselessness, it will have long term consequences for all future Khanate-American relations.'Tony: 'That is a ridiculous assessment.''That is our experienced assessment. They believe treachery is only forgiven by death. They do believe in loyalty and keeping one's word. In our country, perjury is an unfortunate side effect of the judicial progress. To the Great Khan, it is reason enough to cut your head off.'Tony: 'Fine. I am ordering you to open back-channel talks with the Khanate concerning their admittance to the UN contingent on them taking a reasonable course of action.''Even if we were to do such a moronic thing, the Great Khan will ask Cáel directly to verify this. It is that important to him and his state.'Tony: 'Okay.''Perhaps you could suggest to me what form of coercion I should employ to make Cáel to commit such a blasphemous act?'Tony: 'Tell him to do it. That is what we pay him for.''Mr. Blinken, Mr. Nyilas is an unpaid consultant. At the job he is on sabbatical from, he makes more money than I do. He has an Irish diplomatic passport, been nominated to be the Prince of Albania, Georgia and Armenia, been proclaimed a warrior-prince of Transylvania and is a hero in both Hungary and Romania. He has no brothers, or sisters. His parents are both dead. His only surviving kin are people he is not particularly close to. Since economic and social blackmail are off the table, I am asking you if you are ordering me to use enhanced interrogation techniques to exacting his cooperation in this foolhardy endeavor.'Tony: 'You mean torture him?''I would never go on the record using that word. I don't advise you to use it either.'Tony: 'What kind of people are you?''The kind you engage to take on a mission of this delicate nature. You honestly don't want to know what we've done in the name of our constituent national bodies. You employ us so that you don't have to know. As you said, we 'get it done'. Until now, you have never asked us 'how' we got things done. You wanted the intelligence so we got it for you.'Tony: 'No member of this administration ever asked you to violate US, or International Law.''Which is precisely why the government employs me, so that you can keep your hands clean while mine are steeped in blood. Nothing our team has done will ever blow back on you, so don't worry about that. Why don't we get back to our current dilemma?'(I think until that moment Tony had convinced himself that Addison was another civil servant drone and people like her only existed in the 'black bag' fantasies of conspiracy theorists, hackneyed movie scripts and questionable 'true' spy novels. People like Addison and Lady Fathom weren't standard issue intelligence officers by any stretch of the imagination. They were almost unique in that they did what they did for the very beliefs they had sworn an oath to uphold, to serve their countries.There were no personal vendettas going on. No slush funds were vanishing into Cayman Island accounts. Neither had a God Complex. There was no desire for personal power, career advancement, or fame. I was beginning to think that was why Temujin used them, and me, because we could be counted on to do the right thing when required and only when required. Addison and Fathom had damned themselves forever because someone had to pay the price and get the job done. I imagined they really felt blessed for the opportunity. I worked with maniacs.)Tony: 'Thailand, yes. What if we put troops on the ground in Thailand?''How many?'Tony hummed and hawed so we had to guess.'A Marine Expeditionary Unit? If that is all, they better have an exit plan. Sir, if you want to impress the Khanate with the White House's resolve, you need to start landing troops from the Rapid Deployment Force starting tomorrow. Base aircraft out of Thai air bases. Threaten to ram any Indian Naval vessels that get in your way.'Tony: 'Is that what it would take?'('Yes. It would take the US to growing some balls, damn it!' was not the diplomatic reply though it desperately needed to be said. Hey, I could be a bit of a jingoist when I feel the lives of my loved ones are in danger.)'That is our current assessment of the situation. The Khanate has no reason to take any American threat of force seriously. They won't see anything short of a full-court press as nothing more than posturing for the home audience and what allies we have left.'Tony: 'What does that mean?''It means you are taking the cooperation of Taiwan and Philippines for granted. Our people tell us they see American influence in the region waning and we have been letting the Chinese push them around. Now the Khanate appears and knocks the Chinese back three decades on the World Stage. The Khanate is trying to create a ring of allies around the PRC and a few of them are curious why the US is dragging its heel about such a critical regional issue.'Tony: 'You don't dictate US foreign policy.'(No, we simply enacted foreign policy without your knowledge.)There were probably a large number of Special Forces operators who would be shaking their heads in bewilderment when they found out the US was trying to face down the Khanate over, of all places, Thailand. Hadn't they just busted their humps trying to make the Great Khan see their nations (the US and UK) as potential worthy allies?Working with the Khanate had been 'interesting'. If you asked them for anything, they got it for you, danger and consequences be damned. They'd try anything for the men they considered 'brothers in the struggle'. If you were pinned down by fire from a hillside and asked for fire support, they would napalm the whole damn mountain if that was what it took. The man/woman on the other end of that radio cared for your life, not the human rights of the scumbag shooting at you, or any of the people they might be hiding behind.You also know if they couldn't get it done, it was only because the resources didn't exist. The Khanate Special Forces hadn't acted like co-belligerents, or allies. They treated you like their own kin. They would and had died to make sure some of them got home to their families. If ordered to, they would definitely take the fight to the Khanate. I believed many of them would be asking what had it all been for.'We wouldn't dream of it,' Addison lied.'Good. You have your marching orders. Now get to it,' and Tony hung up on us. Everyone in the room was looking around. What exactly were our marching orders? Had I'd missed that part of our conversation?"Well," Fathom sighed, "there is only one thing we can do." I seriously prayed she would ask me to lie to Temujin."Understood," Mehmet nodded. "Somehow we get the Khanate to launch their offensive into Thailand in three days.""Can they do that?" I blurted out."They do it, or everyone in this room is in a shitload of trouble when they get around to it next week," Addison grinned. "The Khanate high command isn't going to back down just because we ask them to. I wouldn't if I were them.""What happens if they can't make the three day window?" I asked."Then you call up your blood-brother and ask him to fuck over his nation to save us from lengthy prison sentences, or outright assassination," Fathom smirked."If he says 'no'," I looked into her eyes."That's the real tragedy in all this, he won't," she gave me a comforting look. "He isn't going to leave you hanging in the wind. He'll call off his attack dogs because he isn't the kind of man to fuck you over because it is politically expedient. I'm staking all our lives on that. I always have."The Black Lotus? We'd explain to them the ugly reality that neither of us could afford to be painted into a corner over this Thailand issue. We were doing our best, but our political masters were dead set on making a colossal error and we had to follow through with those directives. The Khanate would do everything in their extensive power to support the Black Lotus and if they could invade in three days with some nebulous chance at success, they would go.The Black Lotus, the entire 9 Clans knew JIKIT had no power except what we finagled from the US and the UK. We had borrowed their resources to accomplish what we'd done. The Black Lotus had profited from some of those operations and both the Khanate and JIKIT would owe them big, but we were good for it. That truism was why they worked with us.My personal problem was that I knew the Great Khan would not forgive, or forget this interference by the US. It wasn't in his nature. Worse, the politicians and bureaucrats in Washington would see this as a victory and an expression that the US remained the globe's premier super power. Too few would remember the price of this sense of superiority would be born on the back of Thailand's masses. The revolution would fail after a short, brutal civil war. The tyrant would remain in power and the voice of the Thai people would be stilled.The end result of that late night phone call? We weren't told.What follows is pure conjecture on my part, fueled by intelligence information provided by other JIKIT resources and knowledge about how much the political landscape of Southeast Asia had been transformed by the PCR being driven back to their own coastline, leaving a power vacuum India, Vietnam and the Khanate were eager to fill.The Republic of China/Taiwan --'Aren't you the same people who said only a week ago that sending more weapons into the region would only escalate tensions? And now you want to use our airbases against our latest ally in the region? Do you understand how much internal political turmoil this will cause? Half of us are jumping for joy that someone big and fierce embraces our independence. The other half think it is time to retake China.Yes, we mean the territory currently under the oppressive yoke of the People's Republic of China. Yes, the China the Khanate just kicked the crap out of. The nation that might not be able to protect say, Zhusanjiao. That would be the Pearl River Delta to you Westerners, that huge area on the mainland adjacent to Hong Kong. Hainan is looking pretty ripe for conquest as well. That would be that big island off the coast of, yes, we have indeed suspected you could read a map.At the moment we are expecting the permission of the Khanate to use Woody Island as a forward staging area and logistic base to help us do just that. Take Hainan, yes, that large island currently, and temporarily, under the illegal occupation by those illegitimate bastards in Beijing.What do you mean 'don't declare war on them'? We've been at war with the People's Republic since 1945. No, we are pretty sure we would recall signing a Peace Treaty with them. No, we can't 'get over it' either. Why are you even asking us that? Don't you know our history?Anyway, if we help you, can we expect the same level of cooperation from you as we are getting from the Khanate? In case things go sour, Yes, a shooting war would qualify. See, your people at JIKIT have been helping the Khanate and us, your people, at JIKIT, we are pretty sure it is made up of Americans and British personnel. Why would we think that? Are you serious? Because that's what your governments told us, that's why. Besides, why are you asking us what your people have been doing? Don't they work for you?Speaking of the US government helping us out, what progress is there on the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 ? We sure could use those vessels. While we are at it, how about sharing some of the technology used in the F-35. We'll build our own, or a model vaguely similar to it. We value your friendship and know you will help us out in a pinch.Right?'The Philippines --'Sigh. If you really think this will help. By the way, aren't your fighters going to need some in-air refueling? What are you going to do if the Khanate engages them over Philippine airspace? What are you going to do if you get into a shooting war with the Khanate? Will you defend us from their ballistic missile threat? We have a long history as your allies, but the Khanate is totally ruthless, and they scare us. Can you hold our hand, say for the next twenty years?'(The Philippines rolls out their Wish List)Maybe you could give us some advanced fighters?We are a poor country and can't afford to buy any before 2018.We are not greedy, 72 F-16s will do and you are upgrading to the F-35 anyway so we know you have some lying around. Could you also help us with the maintenance cost? We are a poor country, but very large.Some of your decommissioned naval vessels would go a long way in showing us some love. One of those Tarawa-class amphibious assault ships would be really nice and you've got the USS Peleliu decommissioned and about to be scrapped. We have hundreds of islands in our Republic so moving stuff around is pretty tough. Can you help us out?If you could toss in the ship's complement of 20 AV-8B Harrier 2 and 12 V-22 Ospreys with a fifteen year maintenance package that would be even better!We are a poor country. We could never afford to buy any of that stuff.Maybe a frigate, or three? You have a dozen Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigates sitting around. We can finally retire some of our World War 2 relics and make one our new flagship.We know you aren't going to give us one of those powerful nuclear submarines, but maybe you could secure a few loans so we could buy some of those nifty German-made, diesel-powered Type 214's. We hear they are pretty cool, very silent and practically a steal at $330 million per boat! We love you guys! And, we are poor.Oh, and some helicopters!We were going to refurbish some Vietnam-era Iroquois, but since your Marine Corp is retiring the far superior Bell AH-1 SuperCobra, can we have a dozen of those instead?We were going to fix up some of our aging Sikorsky S-76s as air ambulances. Getting new ones would be far superior, don't you think?You also have those cool Blackhawks. You have so many. Could you spare us, say twenty? You're the best!And some guns. And artillery. And some APC's.Did we mention we are a poor country going through an expensive force modernization program?Got any amphibious vehicles lying around? We could use a few of more of those small unit riverine craft (SURC)'s we bought from you recently. They are excellent counter-insurgency tools. You want us doing well fighting the War on Terror, don't you?Did we mention that we are a poor country? And we love you guys!The Federation of Malaysia --We like this idea. Give us say a week to ten days and we can jump right in.You want to go in four days? With what precisely? Compared to the force projections you have been providing us, Who? JIKIT, of course. Who else would you send us to when we requested intelligence on Khanate activities from you? Did we believe them? Why wouldn't we? They are your people,When do you think Thailand will let us intervene? We've asked the Prime Minister if he needs our assistance and he politely declined. Apparently he thinks he's got things well in hand. He does retain command of over 200,000 troops and the opposition is much smaller. I hope you have better luck than we did in convincing him he's in serious trouble.Also, what do you plan to do about the Indian Navy's South China Sea taskforce? It is pretty big, not something we can tackle on our own.Yes, we kind of need to know what you are doing before we decide what we are doing. You do realize that the Gulf of Thailand is currently under the complete domination of the Indian/Khanate/Vietnamese Axis, right?48 combat aircraft? What gave you that idea? The Vietnamese have been refurbishing their Mig-21's like crazy, using Khanate stockpiles, plus there are nearly a 150 Su-22's. Sure, they are both older than manned flights to the Moon, but they can drop bombs, fire rockets and launch ground attack missiles with the best of them. They are still jet aircraft.Worried? You are aware that those antiquated pieces of crap can bomb the northern part of my country, aren't you? So 'yes', we are worried about those 300 flying deathtraps being more than a 'manageable' nuisance.What about our air force? I imagine it will be doing what we trained it to do, defend Federation air space because I doubt those relics will be coming at us unescorted. We can already tell you that the Mig-29's and Su-30's the Khanate and Vietnamese will be flying are excellent aircraft. We fly them too, just not as many.Of course you can base your F-22's out of Sultan Ismail Petra Airport as long as you supply the logistical support. How many? A lot? Could you please be more specific? Two squadrons? My, that's going to get pretty dicey. I believe you when you say the F-22 is a highly advanced stealthy fighter. I also believe that they are a lot less stealthy when they are sitting on the ground re-arming and refueling.Do we think they will really threaten us? They are threatening us, over our Spratly Island claims, are you sure you know what you are getting into? By the way, when this blows over, do you think you can pressure the Khanate into giving us their Spratly island airbase? It is rapidly approaching completion and is over 3000 meters long.How did they do that? They are dredging the ocean floor, it is a man-made island. Didn't your government protest the environmental damage they were causing?No, not the Khanate, the Chinese.Yes, the Khanate currently controls it. They stole it from the PRC hours before the ceasefire. So, can we have it?Yes, we know it belonged to the People's Republic, but it doesn't anymore. Besides, we both opposed it when the Chinese were dredging it up the island from the sea floor, so giving it to us isn't all that egregious, or unexpected, action. It would also go a long way in supporting our just and worthy claims to the Spratly Islands. We really don't want those greedy Chinese, yes, both the People's Republic and the 'Republic of', or, those incompetent Filipinos to steal them from us.Both of us knocking the Vietnamese back on their heels will be going a long way to getting those Communist knuckle draggers to back off as well. Hey, if they do get antsy, can we also take the Vietnamese base in the Spratly's? It isn't as big as the one the Khanate stole, but it is finished, and closer to us. We are sure that if we help you out, you will do the right thing when the time comes. Right?The President of the United States --'They want what? Have they lost their fucking minds?The Philippines is talking about a billion dollar aid package and guaranteed loans we doubt they can ever repay. We only want to use their air bases for a month, maybe two, not deflower their teenage daughters. It isn't as if we are really going to go to war with the Khanate over Thailand. Besides, the last time we 'got involved' like that, George Bush ran up a trillion dollar deficit, and his party was thrown out of office. Doesn't anyone care we are facing a difficult mid-term election in November?So, the Taiwanese think this is the appropriate moment to invade mainland China? And they want our help? Do they know how expensive that can get? Do they understand how much that will unbalance the already shake state of Asian affairs? It is another land war in Asia for the love of God!'And, the Malaysians are going to help us, but not actually help us and they want tens of billions square miles of ocean for the measly concessions they are making? What do they expect us to do with all the Filipinos, Chinese and Vietnamese who already live there?What do you mean none of those islands are actually inhabited? They are just military bases, some of them nothing more than rusting iron hulks on submerged reefs? OH, God damn it! Why don't we take the God damn Spratly Islands for ourselves if they are that fucking important? We have a Marine Corp. Aren't they good at taking islands? I read about it somewhere.No, I'm not changing the damn mission. I'm venting because the world seems to be inhabited with greedy assholes who can't appreciate peaceful discourse without trying to lift my wallet.Okay, okay, I've got this. We are going to form a new international commission to resolve this Spratly Island's nightmare. Have the French chair it. They love that kind of stuff. Makes sure the Germans are on the commission too. They need to look less like money-grubbing douchebags after that fiasco over the Greek economic collapse. Then invite Russia, India and Pakistan. That will pretty much guarantee nothing gets accomplished.That will allow us to keep our promises to those three leeches without having to deliver anything and, when it fails, it won't be seen as my fault. (Groan) What we really need is new videos of Khanate soldiers bayoneting babies, another ISIS atrocity, or more indisputable evidence the Russian Army's involvement in the Ukraine. The Great Khan really screwed us over Tibet (you know, by allowing them to become a free and democratic society), Putin is an evil cuck (who most likely laughs at me behind my back) and another round of Islamophobia-bashing to remind everyone how this is all Bush's fault.No wonder George spent so much time at Crawford Ranch. Navigating international relations is totally thankless and no matter how rosy we paint the latest economic numbers, someone still finds a way to make me look bad. Oh well, if this blows up in my face, I only have two more years in this shooting gallery. Maybe then I might change my mind and decided I really was born in Kenya, or Indonesia. I really wish Hawaii was an independent country. I'd like to retire there if there weren't so many of those damn contentious Americans.The US President wanted to run this operation on a shoestring, not engage in 'nation-building', much less backing an invasion of anybody. In fact, he was trying to stop an invasion.The Philippines was a poor country. So what? It wasn't his fault. He had poor people in the US too and they cast votes.Taiwan suddenly thought it could take on China? They were insane. Of course he would be ignoring a major stated political goal of the ROC for the past 65 years ~ reunification on their terms. Any high-level technological transfer wasn't going to happen because if the Republic ran off the reservation, the President would bloody well be sure no one could trace that decision back to anything he'd done.At least Malaysia was on board, sorta/kinda. They wouldn't actually be able to help until day ten, or fourteen and, unlike the Republic of China, they had a small air force that might not be able to protect forwardly deployed troops. If he ended getting of those National Guard yahoos killed his party would be murdered in November.For a split second, he wondered if he should attempt to make a personal call to the Great Khan, potentate to potentate, except he had this sinking feeling that a winning smile and a handshake would be worse than useless. The man would look him straight in his eyes and start making demands. He would demand action and when the Leader of the Free World prevaricated, he knew the Khanate would call his bluff.And they would fight. The alternative was a grand spectacle of public humiliation and that he could not accept. The US military machine would fight and they would win. They would win because he needed them to win, fast and clean and home for Christmas. Maybe he would authorize the mobilization of those California airmen. Just in case.In the end, Secretary Kerry gave POTUS what he asked for.The Philippines would let them use their country's bases for logistics and strategic assets (aka bombers).The ROC would extend their air umbrella out 200 km to the east, south and west, acting like a shield between the Khanate and US Pacific assets moving through the tight Formosan Straits.Malaysia gave them an airbase from which they could strike into Thailand, or Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. The US Air Force would have the opportunity to be lethally effective.Had they known the sum total of the US commitment, they would have been appalled. The Khanate did not fuck around.One Carrier Strike Group,Forty (maybe sixty) Air Force fighters,Lumbering B-52's flying half way around the globe,Hadn't they been watching the dogfights over China for the past month? Maybe they would like to dive down and examine the wreckage of the PLAN carrier Liaoning and see just how it met its grisly fate?Apparently not.(I live, love and have loved)"What are you doing here?" she got the preliminary nonsense out of the way. With the way she was dressed, I was an expected visitor. She was expecting some make-up sex. I was thinking 'paying for my past mistakes' sex because I was already seeing way too many women who required me to do things outside the bedroom, non-sexual things. I had my dress jacket swung over my shoulder. It would only get in the way later."I brought you motorcycle over. You left it parked by my place," I kept any appearance of lust, or glee off my face."It is one o'clock in the morning," she glowered."I was called into work. I'm on call 24/7.""Let me guess, you can't talk about it.""You wouldn't believe me if I did, so suffice it to say I was doing things I didn't want to do instead of coming over here, waking you up from a sound sleep.""I wasn't asleep. I was angry," I pointed out."I apologize. Maybe I should have waited until morning." She didn't think I should have waited as long as I had. Keeping her waiting until morning would have left her volcanic."I wasn't asleep.""Your bike is in the parking lot across the street," I handed her the lot ticket."How did you find it?""There are only two places in my neighborhood that allows parking and the second one is poorly lit," I replied."And the attendant let you steal it?" she frowned."He knows me. I do a ton of business with him and it wasn't as if I was dressed like your average carjacker.""How did you start it?""Chaz showed me how to spoof the lock. He's got this spiffy lock-pick set on him.""That he carries with him for such contingencies?""Hey, he's the spycraft professional. I'm the amateur who tags along because karma is a bitch," I grinned."Did you ruin the ignition?""No. He's got this skeleton key thingy. I need to get me one of those," I added. See, I was drifting down the path to becoming a hardened criminal and she had to save me. Girls love saving bad boys from themselves. There is an entire literary genre devoted to the topic."Get in here," Anais barked. She emphasized that command by grabbing my tie and dragging me into her room. Now I could ogle her in her bra, panties and dress shirt left open. As I said moments ago, she was expecting me. Anais had thick, light-brown, just-past-the-shoulders hair with blonde highlights. Her dusky skin tone suggested some ancestral link to the South of France while her deep green eyes suggested Celtic ties.She was definitely someone I would describe as possessing an hourglass figure. She worked out just enough to stay fit, practiced judo (in and outside of the bedroom) and ate right. Her ass was the correct mix of firm and fleshy, her breasts were pleasant without too much bounce and she sported broad, but short, nipples that liked to get bitten.With her bare foot, she kicked the door shut, spun me around by my tie until I slammed, back first, into the wall in the short hallway that led to her bedroom."I repeat, what are you doing here?""I never actually apologized for how things ended up," I sodomized the truth. "Anais, I am truly sorry for how badly I fucked up our affair. I acted without a thought for the possible consequences, or thinking about how betrayed you would feel. Can you accept my apology?""You came here to have sex," she declared. She stepped up tightly against my body, her eyes boring into mine. I had around six inches on her so she had to tilt up her chin to do so."That too," I shrugged."I ought to throw you out the window," she growled. We were on the seventh floor. The window didn't open and the safety glass looked alright."I'll go then," I nodded. Now to make her beg for/demand sex."You are not going anywhere," she snarled. Then she kissed me, a tongue-grapple ensued and she finished things by biting my lower lip so much I tasted blood afterwards. I dropped my jacket. I was about to need both my hands."I think us having sex would be a mistake," I pushed her buttons. I wasn't some wimp acquiescing to her demands. I was a free-willed being; a strong man who needed to be wrestled down and forced to perform.She pulled me down into a second kiss. This was an 'I will leave you incapable of thinking about anything but me' kiss. Yes, I had names for kisses too. They were similar to naming the ingredients of a choice meal. I propelled her back until we slammed into the opposite wall. Anais was a tough chick and a bit of banging around was par for the course.I cupped each ass cheek and pulled her up. She responded by wrapping her legs around my hips. We were still kissing. Anais slipped her hands along my sides before linking them up at the small of my back. She pulled me hard against her while she ground her crotch against mine."Clothes," she rumbled from deep within. As in 'why was I still dressed?'"Been a while," I taunted her. Since she was glommed on to me, I used my freed up hands to rip off my tie."Yes. I bet it hasn't 'been a while' for you," she sizzled."Long as in 5:30 this morning," I teased back. At this point in the foreplay that revelation was akin to throwing gasoline on a fire. I was being an unrepentant dog and she was taking me to confessional, between her thighs."Bastard," she condemned me as well as the entire male side of the species."It doesn't mean I haven't missed you, this, us," I riposted. She retaliated by turning her humping motion into to more of a grind. Bad kitty. Bad kitty wanted to be spanked. Woot!"You are never going to change," she dug her fingernails into my flesh. I yanked my shirt off."If I hadn't changed, you wouldn't be here," I reminded her while nipping at her nose and lips."You are still an egocentric bastard," she growled."Hey, I always took care of your needs," I countered. I had. She knew I had and since she currently wanted me to take her to that higher erotic plane, she wasn't going to contest that fact. Instead, she began working her shirt off and in doing so, squishing her boobs against my chest.Holding her tight, my left hand under her right buttock and my right hand on her mid-back, pressing her torso into mine. We dance through two slow circles before crashing, side by side, on the bed. Anais rolled us over so that she was on top. I didn't let her get in a totally dominant pose, oh no. I had a kitty to take care off. I grabbed her firm ass and propelled her up until I was face first with her gusset.I might not remember to check my bank balance, or the atomic number of Technetium (I once had a girlfriend who would rate my performance on the periodic table in the midst of our fucking, I never made it higher than Copernicium before she passed out), but I can recall the precise taste, texture and topography of every cunt I've had face to face contact with. I knew right where to tongue-fuck Anais to twist her up inside.Control-orgasm, control-orgasm, Anais was pig-headed and wanted to keep dictating our reunion. She also wanted to return to the level of sexual bliss we had shared so often before. Her compromise was to hump my face; really grind it in. Black silk underwear is an excellent medium for transferring force and wetness between partners.She rubbed her love-nub against my upper lip/teeth while I did tongue-ups into her cunt. She was wetter than Bangladesh in the rainy season. That was an indicator of some serious masturbatory sessions stopping just short of orgasm before I arrived. I had some aching sensations to play with and I wasn't cruel. I maneuvered a hand between her thighs, underneath the band of her underwear and exposed her vaginal opening to my fingers and tongue while keeping that silky feel for her clitoris."Rurr," she began growling from the depths of her diaphragm. That was how she always was, thundering like a female grizzly bear in heat. It was an expression with deep subharmonic components that caused the heart to flutter and her flesh to shimmer with the vibrations mixed with her bodily sweat."Come on, Baby," I urged her on.That pissed her off. She was trying to hold off her orgasm for a few more seconds. My 'baby' crack shifted her resolve into anger allowing her climax to overwhelm her."Rah," she howled. It didn't sound like a female coming to fruition. It was more akin to the sound European soccer hooligans made when their team scored a goal. The muscles in Anais' thighs were strumming along like the cords of a piano, her belly was undulating in and out, and her head had rolled back so that she was screaming to the ceiling.The countdown was on. The people next door/across the hall/above or below us would be waking up, think that someone had unleashed a wild animal in the hotel, figure out they were not immediately on the menu, then call the front desk, stating their fears as justifiable fact. Anais and I had been down that road before.I gave Anais' flank a light smack to get her attention. Sure she looked back at me with simmering anger, yet she also knew the score. That had been round #1 in a nightlong bout of sexual conquest, rebellion and re-conquest. She drew her knees to her chest so she could pull off her damp panties in one swift motion. I worked off my shoes, pants, socks and underwear. While she soaked up my naked flesh (muscles, scars and all), she retrieved the phone from the side table and placed it beside her. She wouldn't want to break up our rhythm when the phone rang.No romantic small talk interrupted our shared lust. She wanted that cock and I wanted to give it to her. I moved between her inviting thighs while she examined me, her upper body uplifted by her arms resting on her elbows. Bite-kissing-biting resumed. I slowly pushed her head to the bed with the force of my kisses and strength of my upper body pushing down on her. Somewhere along the way, I slipped into her.Condom? Crap. I was slipping. I would have to pull out, because stopping to put a condom on would earn me some serious ferocity on her part. I plunged in. Anais placed her hands on my hips, claws beneath my kidneys, guiding my pace and power. I may have been on top, but she wasn't giving up on one ounce of control."Damn you," she hissed."Yes?" I leered."Fuck you.""I'm working on it. Is there anything," I teased."Bastard," she looked away, "You remember how I like it.""Whatever made you think I would forget?" I kept at it."Don't look so smug.""I'm working on it," I looked smug. Anais dug her fingernails in. I had to be punished, just ask her."When do you have to go back to work?" she huffed."Six a.m. When do you have to go back?""I have two days off.""Good to know," I stole a kiss from her lips painlessly. Good to know.(Painful dreams)I edged back into consciousness realizing that I was not alone. The muffled sense of my surroundings informed me that I wasn't really awake. She sat on my side of the bed, feet on the floor, side to me."Good evening, Dot," I yawned."Good morning, Cáel," the Goddess Ishara let her melodic voice float over me."Hold on," I interrupted her. I weaved as I leaned over, pawed at my pants (still trapped in the real world) and finally drew forth my offering."A fortune cookie," she chuckled. "I admire your dedication.""It is a simple enough request and I aim to please." I hesitated. "We don't have much time, do we?""You are dreaming, not concussed, so we will be alright if we tread carefully," she told me. "This time, I have no cryptic warnings, or specious pieces of information. I am giving you a gift. Take my hand."I did, not that I had much choice. We 'went', where to, I wasn't sure yet I suspected we were skirting the Weave itself where concepts like Time and Distance had little meaning.The Goddess released my hand and I stepped out of the fog brought about by the abrupt nature of our progress to see a woman sitting beside a pool, no, a sunken bath. She looked up at our approach. Oh shit, it was,"Cáel? You are Cáel, aren't you," she smiled. She stared at me with her blind eyes while waiting for my response with deaf ears."Yes, Tad fi, I'm Cáel. How did you know?""I bear our shared life inside me," she graced me with her serene presence."Ah, I was warned," I stopped myself. I was going to add 'this might happen'. That would be unfair as she appeared pleased with this alteration of her life path. "I was warned by the Goddess that she had something to show me. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?"She put her hand over her lower abdomen and rubbed the spot with her palm."Seeing you and giving you the news in person is enough," she glowed with happiness."Have you picked out a name yet?" seemed weak."I will leave that up to you.""Oh, come on," I relaxed slightly. "This is something we are doing together.""No, it is not, kind Cáel.""Just because she will most likely end up an Isharan doesn't,""No, Cáel. This birth will cost me my life. I am not destined to ever see my daughter draw her first breath," she confided in me."No!" I recoiled. "That's unfair." What else could I say? 'I take it back. I shouldn't have listened to my Goddess and screwed you out of what little life you had left.'"I am content with my fate, Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara. Our daughter will be the first female of the Isharan line in nearly 1600 years. Rejoice that we have been confronted by Destiny and triumphed. The light of the Peacemakers will shine once more among our sisters.""It is not worth the cost of your life," I responded bitterly. This was colossally unfair to all three of us."That you grieve for the short time I have left gives me strength, knowing our daughter will grow up with a strong, caring father. I,"I could sense Ishara close by my side."You must go, my Cáel. We will next see each other in the Halls of our Ancestors. Take our daughter and raise her well. I have faith in you," she sighed pleasantly, as if I had sheltered her from the rainstorm with my umbrella."We must go," Ishara whispered in my ear and then we left. I was back in the hotel room, looking down at the tears on my sleeping face and it hurt so much."You gave me that command knowing what it would cost her," I sounded so hollow, chin on my chest, eyes closed instead of looking at my feet."We are not an easy people to love, Cáel. We are harsh. Endless centuries of suffering, pain and mistrust have made us this way. Please understand that what you see as one life passing is really one life coming into being. It is a life Fate would have denied the line of Ishara. I took you to meet Tad fi because I wanted you to greet your daughter with understanding, not sorrow. I owed you.""Steal my anger why don't you?" I chuckled bitterly. "Can I even blame myself for this tragedy? It isn't like you made me do anything. I did it because I wanted to and never gave much thought to the frail health Tad fi was hanging on to. This is so wrong and I don't know what to do.""Wake up. Keep living. If this news turns your heart, or fills your mind with doubt, then both of us have failed you. Tad fi didn't have to tell you. I didn't have to bring you to her. I believed you were owed the chance to say good-bye.""I didn't say that," I exhaled sadly."You openly grieved and let her comfort you. That is more of a 'goodbye' than most people are able to convey. She knows your heart. You were honest in your sorrow. She saw that and that eased her suffering knowing that you are a person who is free with their heart. For a woman who expected nothing but wickedness from men for so long, that was the ultimate gift. You did help her. You truly did.""I," I woke up. Anais was looking down at me, concerned."You've been crying," she noted by touching my cheek with a finger then showing me the dampness."Do you believe a person's soul can fracture?" I murmured. That sort of talk was unlike the 'me' she once knew."Do you believe that another can help you put your soul back together if that happens?" I continued."You are not talking about us, are you?" she studied me."No. I'm thinking about being a parent, not just a father. Can I fuck that up as much as I've screwed up so many of the other women I've cared for, am I going to be worthy of being a Dad?""Oh, I don't know. You are not the man I knew two years ago. I think you have changed for the better. You are still far from perfect yet, you seem to be trying so much harder than previously.""You think I'm going to screw things up, don't you?""Yes. Yes, I do, but I also think you will only make the same mistake once. That is better than most men can hope for," she let her gaze soften."This is us breaking up,""Yes. I think if I stayed, you would break my heart; and I am starting to believe neither one of us wants that," she nodded. "One more time?""I'd love to," I smiled at her. I still hurt. I was using sex to bandage my pain. Anais knew that and was giving me this unlooked for piece of kindness. It was the best break up I'd ever had, or could ever hope for.{5:45 am, Saturday, August 30th ~ 9 Days to go}"You look like someone strangled your kitten," Pamela told me as I exited Anais' hotel room. She was leaning against the wall across the hall. I had the feeling she had been there a while. Of course I hadn't been allowed to wander off alone; most likely, Chaz had kept an eye on me until Pamela relieved him."I, I got Tadifi killed," I unloaded on her.Pamela immediately dropped her casual fa

This week we're excited to present a conversation from the 62nd New York Film Festival with Who by Fire director Philippe Lesage and actor Noah Parker. An NYFF62 Main Slate selection, Who by Fire is now playing at Film at Lincoln Center with in-person Q&As at select screenings opening weekend. Get tickets at filmlinc.org/fire A getaway at a secluded log cabin in the forest becomes the site of escalating, multigenerational tensions and anxieties in this disquieting, impeccably mounted coming-of-age drama from Quebecois filmmaker Philippe Lesage (Genesis, New Directors/New Films 2019). Ostensibly a merry reunion between well-known film director Blake Cadieux (Arieh Worthalter) and his longtime friend and former collaborator Albert Gary (Paul Ahmarani), the vacation gradually becomes something far more complex and less stable, especially with the combustible admixture of Albert's teen son's best friend, Jeff (Noah Parker), and Albert's self-asserting daughter Aliocha (Aurélia Arandi-Longpré). Long-simmering middle-aged resentments surface, set against the anxieties of the young, all captured sensitively by Lesage, who in recent years has proven unparalleled in evoking the psychological contours of teenagers finding their paths through treacherous emotional landscapes. Featuring thrillingly choreographed dinner sequences of mounting tension, Who by Fire confirms Lesage as a major contemporary filmmaker, with its assured tonal negotiation of the naturalistic and the oneiric, the joyous (especially an epic dance interlude to The B-52s) and the ominous. This conversation was moderated by NYFF selection committee member K. Austin Collins.

Curious about the biggest mistakes you might be making while learning French? In this episode of my Quebec French Podcast, I break down the top ten things you should absolutely avoid if you want to make real progress.From the pitfalls of memorizing vocabulary lists to the hidden downsides of language apps like Duolingo, I'll share practical insights based on years of teaching experience.If you're serious about improving your French—whether standard or Quebecois—this episode will help you refine your approach and save valuable time.To get the written version and fully formatted version of this podcast, go to www.frenchwithfrederic.comThis section is usually reserved for my paid members, but I've made it available to everyone this time. If you'd like to access our French classes, Book Club, and all the features of our French-learning community, upgrade your subscription today! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.frenchwithfrederic.com/subscribe

Newfies are a distinct people but do not know the secret of the Quebecois - to resent those that are not you.Queerness is not what makes us hate your art, it's how horrible your art is that makes us hate your art.The 90s liberal got to experience the peak of political self-satisfaction, being anti-authority while still being in charge.

Denis Villeneuve's massive sci-fi epic “Dune: Part Two” is up for best picture at the Oscars this year. Last year, around the film's Canadian premiere, the Quebecois filmmaker joined Tom Power to discuss his vision for the second installment, the challenges of shooting in the intense heat of the desert, and how politics and religion in Quebec play into the film more than you might think.

Pat Mire, who founded Cinema on the Bayou Film Festival in 2006, joins Discover Lafayette, along with his wife, Rebecca Hudsmith, to discuss his career as a filmmaker celebrated for his authentic portrayals of Cajun culture. Since his early days as a filmmaker, Pat has been able to make a living solely by directing and producing films which resonate with audiences of all backgrounds and of various cultures. Cinema on the Bayou Festival was created in 2006 by chance, after the devastating damage wreaked by Hurricane Katrina upon New Orleans. "The National Film Board of Canada called me saying there was a US premiere of the documentary "Maroon," by famed Quebecois filmmaker Andre Gladu that was supposed to be playing at the New Orleans Film Festival. I was living in uptown New Orleans and we all had to leave. There was nobody living in New Orleans at that time in 2006.. And so I came here to Lafayette. There was no New Orleans. It was an opportunity. I decided we were going to pay for his hotel, fly him here, and pay a stipend. I said, I'm starting a film festival. That's how it started. I've worked with all the scholars here, including Barry Ancelet and Carl Brasseaux, to preserve our local culture." Since 2006, Cinema on the Bayou has presented hundreds of internationally acclaimed documentary, narrative fiction, animated and experimental films, with filmmakers in attendance from across the United States and around the world. The Festival is now unique among film festivals in the U.S. in that it also regularly screens a large number of French-language independent films and presents filmmakers from throughout the Francophone world.  Pointe Noire, a film the couple co-wrote and produced together, will premier on January 22, 2025, at the St. Landry Cinema in Opelousas as a feature film of the Cinema on the Bayou Film Festival. Local talent, Andrew Morgan Smith, a veteran composer from Youngsville, was the composer for the movie's score. Cinema On the Bayou runs from Jan. 22 - 29, 2025. For Pointe Noire's premiere on Jan. 22, doors will open at 6 p.m. at St. Landry Cinema, 1234 Heather Dr., Opelousas, with a Red Carpet wine reception. The film will screen at 7 p.m. Following the film screening and Q&A, the after-screening reception for all attendees will be held at Cite des Arts, 109 Vine St., Lafayette. There will be a cash bar along with complimentary boudin and king cake. Tickets for the opening night film screening and reception are $20 per person and cna be purchased in advance at www.cinemaonthebayou.com. All-Access passes for the festival can be purchased at:  https://cinemaonthebayou2025.eventive.org/passes/buy Pointe Noire, shot throughout the Acadiana area, stars Canadian film stars Roy Dupuis and Myriam Cyr, and features Michael Bienvenu and Zachary Richard.  It tells the story of filmmaker and crawfisherman Louis Leger (Roy Dupuis) and criminal defense attorney Dolores Arceneaux (Myriam Cyr), who join forces in the Cajun prairie community of Pointe Noire in an effort to save the life of Joel Richard (Michael Bienvenu), a falsely accused man on Louisiana's Death Row. What follows is a search to find out what really happened 30 years ago when two people were killed on the night of the traditional courir de Mardi Gras. Along the way, Louis and Dolores uncover a hauntingly beautiful, isolated community suffering from secrecy and deceit, yet ultimately striving to achieve its own form of folk justice.   Pat's documentaries have been broadcast nationally on PBS, the Discovery Channel, and many more platforms, and have earned prestigious awards including the American Anthropological Film Festival's Award of Excellence. "A film is told three ways. There are three films in one film. It's what you write, what you shoot and what you edit... post production That's, to me, the lace and embellishment. The negligee you put on the film at the end is so important." His first film, Dirty Rice,

Innovation Minister François-Philippe Champagne said Tuesday he won't be running to replace Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. Former B.C. premier Christy Clark also bowed out after previously hinting at a leadership bid. That leaves the Liberals with only three leadership hopefuls that have publicly announced their intentions to run. The CBC's Catherine Cullen and Radio-Canada's Louis Blouin have the latest on who we can soon expect to join the race. Plus, Heritage Minister Pascale St-Onge weighs in on what it means to not have a major Quebecois or francophone contender running.

Narrator Jean Brassard joins AudioFile's Michele Cobb to discuss narrating Louise Penny's latest in the Three Pines series, THE GREY WOLF. It's a thrilling mystery and a new voice for a beloved series, and Brassard describes what it was like to step into the shoes of Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. He discusses how his Quebecois background informed his performance and what he enjoyed the most about narrating this mystery named one of AudioFile's Best of 2024. Read AudioFile's review of THE GREY WOLF. Published by Macmillan Audio. AudioFile's 2024 Best Mystery & Suspense Audiobooks are: THE BRIAR CLUB by Kate Quinn, read by Saskia Maarleveld THE GREY WOLF by Louise Penny, read by Jean Brassard A NEST OF VIPERS by Harini Nagendra, read by Soneela Nankani THE SEQUEL by Jean Hanff Korelitz, read by Julia Whelan SHANGHAI by Joseph Kanon, read by Jonathan Davis YOU'LL NEVER FIND ME by Allison Brennan, read by Hillary Huber Find the full list of 2024 Best Audiobooks on our website. Today's episode is brought to you by Brilliance Publishing. The Sound of Storytelling. Discover your next great listen at https://www.brilliancepublishing.com/ Jean Brassard photo by Steve Vaccariello. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We're joined this week for an insidious hour of sneaky, underhand plotting and planning with returning friend of the pod Paul Duncan McGarrity. We discover bungling Quebecois terrorists and security guards, batshit crazy Japanese anarchists, a blow-by-blow account of everything wrong with the Gunpowder Plot and the stupidest double-agent of all-time. Follow us on Instagram: @worstfoot @vanderlaugh @barrymcstay  Take a butcher's at Ben's Substack here: https://vanderlaugh.substack.com/ Join us on our Discord server! https://discord.gg/9buWKthgfx Visit www.worstfootforwardpodcast.com for all previous episodes and you can donate to us on Patreon if you'd like to support the show! https://www.patreon.com/WorstFootForward

Bryan and Dave go north for a look at The Christmas Martian, an utterly deranged Quebecois children's movie about unsupervised children in a remote Quebec town and the adult man from Mars who in any other context would be understood to be grooming this brother and sister. It's a film that was intended to be whimsical and zany but being the product of Tales For All producer, Rock Demers, it all just comes off as creepy and unsettling. Though, not quite as upsetting as The Peanut Butter Solution, a film we covered in 2023, it's still off-putting in a way that begs the question: who was this movie for? Produced by prolific Canadian producer, a man on a mission to make the lives of children genuinely better, Rock Demers, directed by one of the National Film Board's most talented cinematographer, Bernard Gosselin, and written by an author so-treasured by his native Canada that one of his works of fiction is quoted on their money, Roch Carrier, The Christmas Martian is remarkably artless and weird and we're going to tell you all about it. Support Bring Me The Axe on Patreon! ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/c/bringmetheaxepod⁠⁠⁠⁠ Buy Bring Me The Axe merch here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.bonfire.com/store/bring-me-the-axe-podcast/⁠

The Beach Boys' original lyric, "I wish they all could be Quebecois girls" was rejected out of hand. Card #490 on Beckett SABR Bio by Norm King Card #490 on 88 Topps Blog Beard Larry retires from the Mud Hens Larry and Elvis Larry inducted into International League HOF

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

Jean Brassard, Louise Penny's choice to narrate her 19th Three Pines novel, proves an inspired selection. Host Jo Reed and AudioFile's Robin Whitten discuss how Brassard, a native Quebecois and an award-winning actor, gets each character right. Domestic terrorism takes Armand Gamache, Jean-Guy, and Isabelle from Montreal to the Vatican and to an isolated French monastery. Brasard's accents—whether French Canadian, Italian, or continental French—create indelible characters, and his pacing and storytelling skills are stunningly good. Listen to find out what awaits Gamache in this latest memorable mystery. Read our review of the audiobook at our website. Published by Macmillan Audio.  Discover thousands of audiobook reviews and more at AudioFile's website.      Support for AudioFile's Behind the Mic comes from HarperCollins Focus, and HarperCollins Christian Publishing, publishers of some of your favorite audiobooks and authors, including Reba McEntire, Max Lucado, Kathie Lee Gifford, Bob Goff, Lysa TerKeurst, and many more! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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..