Podcasts about unbidden

After a world-wide disaster, new rules take effect.Based on a post by barnabus, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Jolene was satisfied that she had done her duty. She lay the washcloth on the night stand. Without a word, she sat on the bed, removed her saddle shoes and bobby socks, then, naked, slid under the covers. Jim's erection was returning with a vengeance at the sight of this nude girl climbing into bed with him. Jim was ready, his arm extended to be beneath Jolene's head and around her shoulders. On her back, her breasts lost their definition, spreading and flattening. It had never occurred to Jim how much a good bra shapes and complements a woman's figure. Still, Jolene, the secret fantasy of every boy in school, had just climbed into his bed, and she had just given him her virginity. The streaks of blood he had found on his penis and thighs and Jolene's washcloth had confirmed that. He swelled with masculine pride knowing that he had been the man to pop Jolene's cherry! It was he, not her quarterback boyfriend, but he who had taken her virginity. He had hoped to fuck her today, but had only the faintest expectation that he might actually be her first! After all, she was beautiful and popular! Jim expected that Tom, her current boyfriend, or someone else would have claimed her maidenhead before today.The two talked for a while, saying little, but talking none the less.Finally, he boorishly put his hand on her breast. Jolene stiffened."They said we should do it several times to;"Jolene felt the tension in her stomach when she heard Jim's words. "I know," she replied.Jim was elated. Jolene had given him her virginity. She hadn't exactly fucked him;  rather, she lay there on the bed and unresponsively let him fuck her which was as much as he could realistically expect. Then, he watched as she had removed the rest of her clothing and returned to his bed, naked, to do it again. Can life get any better than this? Yes! he decided openly allowing his fantasies to progress to the next step. It would be better if she fucked him back! But that was an unrealistic fantasy. 'Nice girls' would never actively participate in sex. They might permit it, but they would never initiate it and certainly never become the aggressor or even actively participate themselves.Jolene was determined to do her duty, even though the experience might not be everything she had hoped for and the man was not the partner she would have chosen. Replenishing the world's population was more important than her own personal likes and dislikes.As crude and inexperienced as Jim was, he was also a very perceptive man. He knew that their initial encounter had not been very satisfactory for Jolene And, if possible, he wanted to rectify that.Softly, gently, his hand caressed her breast and body, slowly exploring every place he could reach, but always watching to see if she liked it. Jolene was tense and nervous, even frightened. The memory of the pain of her deflowerment was still fresh in her memory. But slowly, she began to relax beneath his tender touch. There was an itch forming deep inside her, a small but definite fire growing in her belly. Was this the beginnings of passion that Jim was stirring up in her?Still holding her breast, Jim leaned over and kissed Jolene He was unskilled at kissing, but the kiss was gentle and although she lay unresponsive, there was a stirring in her loins and gradually she began to return the kiss, bringing her hand up behind Jim's head. Unconsciously, her vaginal muscles quivered with expectancy.Jim kissed her nose, her cheekbones, her forehead, and gradually worked his way downward, grazing her perky nipples, momentarily sucking on them before his kisses worked their way downward. Again, she tensed nervously, knowing that he would be kissing her;  down there! He observed how she tensed up when he kissed the area below her soft stomach and closed in on her most intimate areas.As his kisses moved downward, the sheet moved with him, leaving her uncovered and exposed. Unconsciously, Jolene's hand covered her breasts, concealing them from view.With utmost care and tenderness, he kissed her fur-lined mound. As he continued kissing her pubis, he brought up his hand and barely inserted a single digit into her damp vagina ever so slightly penetrating her, but causing a spasm of shuddering from the blond cheerleader. Her long, slender legs separated, permitting better access to the finger and hand. His kisses continued, his shoulder moved between her knees and his tongue found her clitoris jolting a whimper from her.His finger moved very little, simply being a presence at the entrance of her womanhood while his darting tongue spurred her libido. The combination caused Jolene to rapidly become hot and bothered. She didn't love Jim. And she wasn't in love with him. So why was he generating this excitement, this thrill in her? It should be Tom touching her, not Jim!Soon, she was practically pumping her hips against his finger and tongue. Her breath was coming hard and fast, she raised her head looking down, momentarily distracted by her tingling, fully erect, nipples that were pointing straight up. Jim, who had moved his entire body between her thighs, looked up and she gave an embarrassed smile that looked both innocent and hungry at the same time. The agitation she felt from the magical effect his finger and tongue extended far beyond where they were actually touching, radiating throughout her pelvis, breasts and, indeed, her entire viscera.Overcome by stimulation, Jolene grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face upward so she could stop the maddening stimulus to her holy of holies. Her breasts flattened against his chest and her rock-hard nipples pressed into him as his weight settled on top of her, sandwiching her between his firm body and the mattress beneath her, but she didn't seem to mind. Their mouths met and Jolene could taste herself on his lips. She hesitated to kiss him.Jolene felt his penis at her opening. This time, he had found it without her help. He was erect and ready to penetrate her again. She was trembling with temptation and anticipation and she gasped as he moved between her velvet lips. She was more than ready for another union! Closing her eyes, she surrendered, relaxing her body and her vaginal muscles, and began to kiss him back. Still afraid, Jolene steeled herself as a delicious ache in her abdomen grew.It was like a soft electrical current running through her pelvis and up her spine! Once again, she froze, caught in the deep kiss she had instigated, yielding before the insidious pressure as he slowly entered her, at first, barely penetrating, but pushing in deeper with each very gentle thrust, proceeding slowly, one inch at a time. A tiny moan emerged into his mouth, smothered by her lips, as his penetration deepened.Jolene's well-lubricated vagina was still sore from the loss of her virginity, but there was almost no discomfort as he moved into her this time. The stimulation in her loins was growing as the kiss deepened. Her thighs presented no resistance as Jim slipped between them. Slowly, she shifted her hips until she felt Jim slip comfortably into her.Jim began a slow, rhythmic movement, filling her, then pulling out only to press into her again.(Jim was thankful he had found that book in the library that seriously talked about technique, and not simply flat out fucking. He was using some of the techniques mentioned in the book; and even with his lack of experience, he recognized Jolene's responses.)Jolene was surprised to find that her misgivings about joining in sexual intercourse with this geek were slowly eroding. He had said he was a virgin. So where had he learned to treat a woman like that? She realized that she was moving her hips in a steady rhythm matching the rhythm that Jim had established. Catching herself, she froze, but sensations she never thought possible were careening through her mind and body.When she realized that she was matching his rhythm a second time, she relaxed and let her body respond as it wanted to, moving her hips against his which allowed very real pleasures to overtake her. Her conscious kept reminding her what was 'right' and what she 'should' be doing. but this conflicted with her instinctive physical responses and her confusing emotions. Slowly, her body won out and Jolene began rocking her pelvis into Jim, acknowledging the feeling of having him inside of her, filling her, stimulating her desire. It was almost more than she could take.Jolene progressively became as fully aroused as she could imagine. Surrendering her ability to think clearly, the guilt she had felt having sex with a virtual stranger was replaced with anticipation and increased pleasure as her body became acclimated to being female and delighting in the joys of receiving physical love from this wonderful male. He had to be a wonderful man to make her feel like this.Jim grinned and pumped more urgently now, shifting forward, plunging his stiff cock deep into her tight, slick opening with each long, deliberate thrust. Jolene didn't even realize it when she started panting and making tiny animal noises. Jim stroked deeper, burying himself to the hilt inside her, each stroke making her moan softly. He felt his cock swelling inside the cheerleader, and his arousal caused him to become animal-like in his increasingly intense thrusting. He penetrated her deep and hard, driving her to loud moans of ecstasy.Jolene's response made Jim swell with male pride, and he pumped her even harder and faster. Fucking this beautiful cheerleader made him feel wonderful! The bed quaked with their passionate lovemaking as Jolene arched her back, whimpering and crying out while Jim pumped in piston-like rhythm. Slowly but surely, Jolene's once innocent and virtuous reserve was collapsing, and her once icy demeanor was melting away as her instinctive feminine needs were awakened by Jim's attentions and lovemaking. There was a satisfied look of euphoria and adoration on Jolene's face when Jim climaxed and once more she received his sperm inside of herChapter 4: Ah!Jolene had felt a strange excitement and frustration building within her. In many respects it reminded her of her first kiss. Or the emotions she felt when she first fell in love. She suspected it might be an orgasm building, but not yet achieved. But Jim had stopped before she could find out.She'd had sex twice now and hadn't received an orgasm. And how after three times she still had not had an orgasm, she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her or if her girlfriends were just making stuff up. Maybe all of this stuff about orgasms was just stuff that people had made; Tiffany gasped and suddenly learned what all her girlfriends were talking about.Jolene had heard about orgasms, those mysterious, mystical experiences that older girls whispered about, but Jolene didn't know anyone who had experienced one. Nanette was her only close girlfriends who had 'gone all the way'. Several times, as a matter of fact, and with different boys. And Nanette had complained that once she slept with a boy, all he ever wanted to do was fuck! But Nanette also grumbled that she had never experienced an orgasm with a boy. And yet, this nerd, Jim, seemed to have Jolene teetering close to one. Then he came and he stopped. It was like Nanette had said: "when a boy's through, he's through!"Crudely speaking, Jolene had been given the assignment to fuck. And since Jim was her assigned 'mate', they were obviously going to continue fucking, at least for a while. Virtue and propriety were no longer considerations in Jolene's life, at least not in relationship to sex. And if she was going to fuck, Jolene wanted to orgasm, too! She deserved an orgasm! She wasn't going to be cheated out of an orgasm just because some man didn't make the effort. She was entitled to her orgasm! Why didn't he know how to give it to her?But she knew that was silly. If she didn't know how to achieve an orgasm, why should Jim know how to give her an orgasm. He had said that he was a virgin too, so how would he know?When his softening member slipped out of her, Jolene impatiently tried to urge Jim to make love to her again. She actually wanted to experience an orgasm and find out what it was really all about. But Jim became agitated and complained that he needed time to 'recharge', whatever that meant. When she grasped his manhood and tried squeezing and pulling, she was surprised that there was no response. Jim explained that it took a man a period of time before he could regain an erection."How long?" she demanded. Jim didn't know.Petulant, Jolene lay back to wait. Strangely, she had never even though about orgasming when she had been with Tom in the back seat of his Jeep.Jim was somewhat shocked by the 'new Jolene'. This was not the prim and proper Jolene he had seen at school for years. It was not the shy and submissive Jolene of his fantasies. Still, he had wanted Jolene to fuck him back. And that was exactly what she had done. Now she showed every inclination to actively fuck him without reservation. So, why not?He had also been surprised when she pouted and pulled away whenever she didn't get what she wanted or whenever things didn't work out the way she wanted. He had never seen this side of her before, and it wasn't very attractive.But Jim was young and virile, so it wasn't long before he began growing larger and harder in her hand.Jolene felt it first. Then her eyes were drawn to that shaft in her hand that was slowly, much too slowly, rising."Now?" she asked, almost eagerly. "Again?"Without prompting, she spread her knees wide and licked her full red lips as Jim crawled between her legs. Jim was afraid of this new Jolene: would he be good enough for her? It was one thing to simply stick his cock in a girl's pussy and shoot his wad. The responsibility of doing whatever was necessary to please her was intimidating and scary as hell.Jolene, with heart hammering, still holding is penis in her hand, guided him straight to her womanhood where he paused, savoring the moment, but also dreading it.Not knowing what to do, he decided to try every option he could remember from the book. It was frightening, and a tremendous responsibility. And it would be much more work than fun.Jim started by sucking and gnawing on her neck. Jolene rolled her head from side to side and sobbed. He bit her earlobe, unfortunately much too hard, and she cried out. It hurt her, but it excited her also and she didn't want to do anything to interfere with the excitement.Jim nibbled and kissed his way down until he found a nipple. Jolene moaned when he sucked hard, almost filling his mouth with her breast. Lustful pleasure transfused her as her breast distended, reforming itself to the contours of his mouth. She was twisting and turning beneath him, but she made no attempt to escape him. Desire was burning inside of her, her womanhood yearned for sex. The pure, prim and proper Jolene, the captain of the cheer leading team, was aching to be fucked!Jim moved from one breast to the other, sucking her nipples, making them harden with each intake into his mouth. Then, her senses crashed through the ceiling as, unexpectedly, he slipped a single finger barely into her pussy. Unbidden, Jolene's juices poured into his hand and Jolene started panting at his unexpected, but intensely erotic intrusion.Still holding his penis, she pulled him toward her. The teasing finger disappeared and she felt something large and rubbery separate her feminine folds.She began to stroke his shaft and held her breath as he mounted her. She was utterly helpless and vulnerable as his weight settled on top of her. Then she gave a squeal of sexual excitement and lust as the now familiar cock moved into her already hot pussy She gave a gasp, then sobbed as he moved deeper, stretching her wider than she could have imagined. Gasping, Jolene was filled like she never imagined she would be filled.For a minute, she kept her hand between them, feeling his penis as it moved into and out of her, receiving the double sensation of feeling with her hand what her body was experiencing.She removed her hand and clutched him to her pressing her soft mountains of flesh into his chest and he buried his cock to the hilt.From his first entry, her body responded. Jolene whimpered as his penis began to repeatedly press into her increasingly hot body. She responded to every thrust. His thrusts became stronger, more masterful, building a sexual heat within her beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Waves of pleasure made her back arch and she sighed in sheer delight!This was the road to orgasm. Jolene was getting what she wanted. Why, then, was she so surprised that she was receiving it? Smiling, she let her head lie back 'Savor it,' she told herself. 'Don't analyze it! Let it go. Enjoy it! Let it go!'Jim was desperately trying to read her responses, trying to observe what pleased her, what satisfied her. He had cum twice. He wanted to give her the same satisfaction that he had enjoyed.He watched her beautiful face and grinned when he saw her smile and heard her sighing in sexual bliss.Jolene's luscious body was building on the arousal of their last attempt at lovemaking. She suspected the orgasm that she wanted so much was coming. "I can't believe what your cock is doing to me," she gasped out, and immediately she felt Jim's manhood harden even more as she uttered the 'dirty words'.Her hips were thrusting into his as hard as he was thrusting into her. She was giving Jim the ride of his life! the book had told Jim. Having left behind her initial virginal reluctance and reserve Jolene throw herself into the act of love with wild abandon. She had no reservations this time and she actively joined in. Arching her back, she pressed her breasts into Jim's hands when he fondled her. His lips on her nipples sent the most wonderful sensations throughout her entire body. She was so intent on seeking her orgasm that she no longer cared who she was with. Her pleasure increased as she totally accepted Jim as her mate. Remembering what she had done earlier and what had excited her, Jolene ventured further into unexplored territory. She used every thrust as an experiment to try to find how she could to shift her body to achieve more stimulation. Every time he thrust into her, she responded, moving her hips, trying to position them so that, selfishly, she would receive the greatest stimulation.Jim, having the gratification of already fucking Jolene twice, concentrated on the lessons he had learned in that book, paying constant attention to her, listening to her responses, observing what she did, doing whatever he sensed pleased her.Panting hard, Jolene immersed herself in the warm excitement washing through her. It was more intense than anything she had ever experienced and Jolene's libido exploded to unbelievable proportions. Jim was doing new and wonderful things to her. Her sexual energy was sizzling and she was squirming and tingling in all the right places!Poor Jim struggled to keep up with Jolene's incredibly self-absorbed efforts. It was only Jim's youthful stamina that gave him the energy, and the fact that he had already climaxed twice that gave him the 'staying power' to meet Jolene's demands, working with her as she frantically pursued the much desired orgasm.Jolene barely heard the sensual words he whispered in her ear, lost in her own storm of sexual heat and lust. Her whole body ached as his cock drove her toward orgasm. She closed her eyes.He clutched her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers as he pressed deeply into her womanhood: The womanhood that felt like a vice of soft flesh clamped around him.And suddenly, without warning, Jim's golden haired mate thrashed and screamed as the tingling in her breasts turned into the illusive orgasm, claiming her, convulsing through her enthusiastic body. Jolene's face transformed into an expression of euphoria and adoration. She latched her heels behind his knees, to pull her pubis against his. Her fingers clawed at his back as she arched her spine and screeched with pleasure. Engulfed in an ultimate will-breaking orgasm, Jolene felt nothing but hunger and lust, pleasure and debauchery. She came over and over, screaming and sobbing in lust filled paroxysms that couldn't possibly be reality. She thrust over and over onto the cock that had made her cum.The huge orgasm shook her soft body and Jolene wailed. Arching into him, she screamed as her orgasmic spasms continued.Jim pounded all the harder, wanting to make her climax again, even though his own cock was ready to explode. Filled with his own lust, he grabbed her hips so that he could drive into her even more powerfully."Yes!" Jim yelled and he came with a loud howl. He shot his load deep into her. They were both bucking and twisting in erotic pleasure.Jolene felt his cum filling her and she screamed as yet another gigantic climax claimed her. Stars and fireworks exploded as her body pulsed and spasmed.Completely energized by Jolene's display of wanton passion, Jim pumped yet another load of milky semen deep into her, his climax overlapped hers. Her muscles tightened, milking him. And an unexpected, delicious feeling sweep over Jim.Finally, the wonderful, mutual climax ran its course and both teens slumped into the bed. Jolene, panting and sobbing, lay there quivering and helpless. There was nothing clear in her mind except that never before had she experienced more pleasure and satisfaction.Jim rolled to the side, relieving her of his weight but still holding her tightly, and listened to her pants and sobs. Ever so gently, he caressed her sweaty body.Jolene smiled, her eyes focused on infinity. She was filled with a profound sense of satisfaction.The two lovers lay entwined, sweating, puffing and pantingJim felt secret delight in his blatant corruption of the captain of the cheer leading squad. His wish had been simply to fuck Jolene this afternoon. The fact that she had become so passionately aggressive exponentially increased the intense pleasure he was already enjoying. And with the eagerness she had displayed, combined with his youth and stamina, he suspected he probably could fuck her at least two or three more times more this afternoon before hitting his limit.As they both came down from their post coital highs, Jolene was frightened by the wanton libido and passion that had been released within her. Her passion was burning so hot that she was afraid of where it might lead. She didn't kn

After a world-wide disaster, new rules take effect.Based on a post by barnabus, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Jolene was satisfied that she had done her duty. She lay the washcloth on the night stand. Without a word, she sat on the bed, removed her saddle shoes and bobby socks, then, naked, slid under the covers. Jim's erection was returning with a vengeance at the sight of this nude girl climbing into bed with him. Jim was ready, his arm extended to be beneath Jolene's head and around her shoulders. On her back, her breasts lost their definition, spreading and flattening. It had never occurred to Jim how much a good bra shapes and complements a woman's figure. Still, Jolene, the secret fantasy of every boy in school, had just climbed into his bed, and she had just given him her virginity. The streaks of blood he had found on his penis and thighs and Jolene's washcloth had confirmed that. He swelled with masculine pride knowing that he had been the man to pop Jolene's cherry! It was he, not her quarterback boyfriend, but he who had taken her virginity. He had hoped to fuck her today, but had only the faintest expectation that he might actually be her first! After all, she was beautiful and popular! Jim expected that Tom, her current boyfriend, or someone else would have claimed her maidenhead before today.The two talked for a while, saying little, but talking none the less.Finally, he boorishly put his hand on her breast. Jolene stiffened."They said we should do it several times to;"Jolene felt the tension in her stomach when she heard Jim's words. "I know," she replied.Jim was elated. Jolene had given him her virginity. She hadn't exactly fucked him;  rather, she lay there on the bed and unresponsively let him fuck her which was as much as he could realistically expect. Then, he watched as she had removed the rest of her clothing and returned to his bed, naked, to do it again. Can life get any better than this? Yes! he decided openly allowing his fantasies to progress to the next step. It would be better if she fucked him back! But that was an unrealistic fantasy. 'Nice girls' would never actively participate in sex. They might permit it, but they would never initiate it and certainly never become the aggressor or even actively participate themselves.Jolene was determined to do her duty, even though the experience might not be everything she had hoped for and the man was not the partner she would have chosen. Replenishing the world's population was more important than her own personal likes and dislikes.As crude and inexperienced as Jim was, he was also a very perceptive man. He knew that their initial encounter had not been very satisfactory for Jolene And, if possible, he wanted to rectify that.Softly, gently, his hand caressed her breast and body, slowly exploring every place he could reach, but always watching to see if she liked it. Jolene was tense and nervous, even frightened. The memory of the pain of her deflowerment was still fresh in her memory. But slowly, she began to relax beneath his tender touch. There was an itch forming deep inside her, a small but definite fire growing in her belly. Was this the beginnings of passion that Jim was stirring up in her?Still holding her breast, Jim leaned over and kissed Jolene He was unskilled at kissing, but the kiss was gentle and although she lay unresponsive, there was a stirring in her loins and gradually she began to return the kiss, bringing her hand up behind Jim's head. Unconsciously, her vaginal muscles quivered with expectancy.Jim kissed her nose, her cheekbones, her forehead, and gradually worked his way downward, grazing her perky nipples, momentarily sucking on them before his kisses worked their way downward. Again, she tensed nervously, knowing that he would be kissing her;  down there! He observed how she tensed up when he kissed the area below her soft stomach and closed in on her most intimate areas.As his kisses moved downward, the sheet moved with him, leaving her uncovered and exposed. Unconsciously, Jolene's hand covered her breasts, concealing them from view.With utmost care and tenderness, he kissed her fur-lined mound. As he continued kissing her pubis, he brought up his hand and barely inserted a single digit into her damp vagina ever so slightly penetrating her, but causing a spasm of shuddering from the blond cheerleader. Her long, slender legs separated, permitting better access to the finger and hand. His kisses continued, his shoulder moved between her knees and his tongue found her clitoris jolting a whimper from her.His finger moved very little, simply being a presence at the entrance of her womanhood while his darting tongue spurred her libido. The combination caused Jolene to rapidly become hot and bothered. She didn't love Jim. And she wasn't in love with him. So why was he generating this excitement, this thrill in her? It should be Tom touching her, not Jim!Soon, she was practically pumping her hips against his finger and tongue. Her breath was coming hard and fast, she raised her head looking down, momentarily distracted by her tingling, fully erect, nipples that were pointing straight up. Jim, who had moved his entire body between her thighs, looked up and she gave an embarrassed smile that looked both innocent and hungry at the same time. The agitation she felt from the magical effect his finger and tongue extended far beyond where they were actually touching, radiating throughout her pelvis, breasts and, indeed, her entire viscera.Overcome by stimulation, Jolene grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face upward so she could stop the maddening stimulus to her holy of holies. Her breasts flattened against his chest and her rock-hard nipples pressed into him as his weight settled on top of her, sandwiching her between his firm body and the mattress beneath her, but she didn't seem to mind. Their mouths met and Jolene could taste herself on his lips. She hesitated to kiss him.Jolene felt his penis at her opening. This time, he had found it without her help. He was erect and ready to penetrate her again. She was trembling with temptation and anticipation and she gasped as he moved between her velvet lips. She was more than ready for another union! Closing her eyes, she surrendered, relaxing her body and her vaginal muscles, and began to kiss him back. Still afraid, Jolene steeled herself as a delicious ache in her abdomen grew.It was like a soft electrical current running through her pelvis and up her spine! Once again, she froze, caught in the deep kiss she had instigated, yielding before the insidious pressure as he slowly entered her, at first, barely penetrating, but pushing in deeper with each very gentle thrust, proceeding slowly, one inch at a time. A tiny moan emerged into his mouth, smothered by her lips, as his penetration deepened.Jolene's well-lubricated vagina was still sore from the loss of her virginity, but there was almost no discomfort as he moved into her this time. The stimulation in her loins was growing as the kiss deepened. Her thighs presented no resistance as Jim slipped between them. Slowly, she shifted her hips until she felt Jim slip comfortably into her.Jim began a slow, rhythmic movement, filling her, then pulling out only to press into her again.(Jim was thankful he had found that book in the library that seriously talked about technique, and not simply flat out fucking. He was using some of the techniques mentioned in the book; and even with his lack of experience, he recognized Jolene's responses.)Jolene was surprised to find that her misgivings about joining in sexual intercourse with this geek were slowly eroding. He had said he was a virgin. So where had he learned to treat a woman like that? She realized that she was moving her hips in a steady rhythm matching the rhythm that Jim had established. Catching herself, she froze, but sensations she never thought possible were careening through her mind and body.When she realized that she was matching his rhythm a second time, she relaxed and let her body respond as it wanted to, moving her hips against his which allowed very real pleasures to overtake her. Her conscious kept reminding her what was 'right' and what she 'should' be doing. but this conflicted with her instinctive physical responses and her confusing emotions. Slowly, her body won out and Jolene began rocking her pelvis into Jim, acknowledging the feeling of having him inside of her, filling her, stimulating her desire. It was almost more than she could take.Jolene progressively became as fully aroused as she could imagine. Surrendering her ability to think clearly, the guilt she had felt having sex with a virtual stranger was replaced with anticipation and increased pleasure as her body became acclimated to being female and delighting in the joys of receiving physical love from this wonderful male. He had to be a wonderful man to make her feel like this.Jim grinned and pumped more urgently now, shifting forward, plunging his stiff cock deep into her tight, slick opening with each long, deliberate thrust. Jolene didn't even realize it when she started panting and making tiny animal noises. Jim stroked deeper, burying himself to the hilt inside her, each stroke making her moan softly. He felt his cock swelling inside the cheerleader, and his arousal caused him to become animal-like in his increasingly intense thrusting. He penetrated her deep and hard, driving her to loud moans of ecstasy.Jolene's response made Jim swell with male pride, and he pumped her even harder and faster. Fucking this beautiful cheerleader made him feel wonderful! The bed quaked with their passionate lovemaking as Jolene arched her back, whimpering and crying out while Jim pumped in piston-like rhythm. Slowly but surely, Jolene's once innocent and virtuous reserve was collapsing, and her once icy demeanor was melting away as her instinctive feminine needs were awakened by Jim's attentions and lovemaking. There was a satisfied look of euphoria and adoration on Jolene's face when Jim climaxed and once more she received his sperm inside of herChapter 4: Ah!Jolene had felt a strange excitement and frustration building within her. In many respects it reminded her of her first kiss. Or the emotions she felt when she first fell in love. She suspected it might be an orgasm building, but not yet achieved. But Jim had stopped before she could find out.She'd had sex twice now and hadn't received an orgasm. And how after three times she still had not had an orgasm, she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her or if her girlfriends were just making stuff up. Maybe all of this stuff about orgasms was just stuff that people had made; Tiffany gasped and suddenly learned what all her girlfriends were talking about.Jolene had heard about orgasms, those mysterious, mystical experiences that older girls whispered about, but Jolene didn't know anyone who had experienced one. Nanette was her only close girlfriends who had 'gone all the way'. Several times, as a matter of fact, and with different boys. And Nanette had complained that once she slept with a boy, all he ever wanted to do was fuck! But Nanette also grumbled that she had never experienced an orgasm with a boy. And yet, this nerd, Jim, seemed to have Jolene teetering close to one. Then he came and he stopped. It was like Nanette had said: "when a boy's through, he's through!"Crudely speaking, Jolene had been given the assignment to fuck. And since Jim was her assigned 'mate', they were obviously going to continue fucking, at least for a while. Virtue and propriety were no longer considerations in Jolene's life, at least not in relationship to sex. And if she was going to fuck, Jolene wanted to orgasm, too! She deserved an orgasm! She wasn't going to be cheated out of an orgasm just because some man didn't make the effort. She was entitled to her orgasm! Why didn't he know how to give it to her?But she knew that was silly. If she didn't know how to achieve an orgasm, why should Jim know how to give her an orgasm. He had said that he was a virgin too, so how would he know?When his softening member slipped out of her, Jolene impatiently tried to urge Jim to make love to her again. She actually wanted to experience an orgasm and find out what it was really all about. But Jim became agitated and complained that he needed time to 'recharge', whatever that meant. When she grasped his manhood and tried squeezing and pulling, she was surprised that there was no response. Jim explained that it took a man a period of time before he could regain an erection."How long?" she demanded. Jim didn't know.Petulant, Jolene lay back to wait. Strangely, she had never even though about orgasming when she had been with Tom in the back seat of his Jeep.Jim was somewhat shocked by the 'new Jolene'. This was not the prim and proper Jolene he had seen at school for years. It was not the shy and submissive Jolene of his fantasies. Still, he had wanted Jolene to fuck him back. And that was exactly what she had done. Now she showed every inclination to actively fuck him without reservation. So, why not?He had also been surprised when she pouted and pulled away whenever she didn't get what she wanted or whenever things didn't work out the way she wanted. He had never seen this side of her before, and it wasn't very attractive.But Jim was young and virile, so it wasn't long before he began growing larger and harder in her hand.Jolene felt it first. Then her eyes were drawn to that shaft in her hand that was slowly, much too slowly, rising."Now?" she asked, almost eagerly. "Again?"Without prompting, she spread her knees wide and licked her full red lips as Jim crawled between her legs. Jim was afraid of this new Jolene: would he be good enough for her? It was one thing to simply stick his cock in a girl's pussy and shoot his wad. The responsibility of doing whatever was necessary to please her was intimidating and scary as hell.Jolene, with heart hammering, still holding is penis in her hand, guided him straight to her womanhood where he paused, savoring the moment, but also dreading it.Not knowing what to do, he decided to try every option he could remember from the book. It was frightening, and a tremendous responsibility. And it would be much more work than fun.Jim started by sucking and gnawing on her neck. Jolene rolled her head from side to side and sobbed. He bit her earlobe, unfortunately much too hard, and she cried out. It hurt her, but it excited her also and she didn't want to do anything to interfere with the excitement.Jim nibbled and kissed his way down until he found a nipple. Jolene moaned when he sucked hard, almost filling his mouth with her breast. Lustful pleasure transfused her as her breast distended, reforming itself to the contours of his mouth. She was twisting and turning beneath him, but she made no attempt to escape him. Desire was burning inside of her, her womanhood yearned for sex. The pure, prim and proper Jolene, the captain of the cheer leading team, was aching to be fucked!Jim moved from one breast to the other, sucking her nipples, making them harden with each intake into his mouth. Then, her senses crashed through the ceiling as, unexpectedly, he slipped a single finger barely into her pussy. Unbidden, Jolene's juices poured into his hand and Jolene started panting at his unexpected, but intensely erotic intrusion.Still holding his penis, she pulled him toward her. The teasing finger disappeared and she felt something large and rubbery separate her feminine folds.She began to stroke his shaft and held her breath as he mounted her. She was utterly helpless and vulnerable as his weight settled on top of her. Then she gave a squeal of sexual excitement and lust as the now familiar cock moved into her already hot pussy She gave a gasp, then sobbed as he moved deeper, stretching her wider than she could have imagined. Gasping, Jolene was filled like she never imagined she would be filled.For a minute, she kept her hand between them, feeling his penis as it moved into and out of her, receiving the double sensation of feeling with her hand what her body was experiencing.She removed her hand and clutched him to her pressing her soft mountains of flesh into his chest and he buried his cock to the hilt.From his first entry, her body responded. Jolene whimpered as his penis began to repeatedly press into her increasingly hot body. She responded to every thrust. His thrusts became stronger, more masterful, building a sexual heat within her beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Waves of pleasure made her back arch and she sighed in sheer delight!This was the road to orgasm. Jolene was getting what she wanted. Why, then, was she so surprised that she was receiving it? Smiling, she let her head lie back 'Savor it,' she told herself. 'Don't analyze it! Let it go. Enjoy it! Let it go!'Jim was desperately trying to read her responses, trying to observe what pleased her, what satisfied her. He had cum twice. He wanted to give her the same satisfaction that he had enjoyed.He watched her beautiful face and grinned when he saw her smile and heard her sighing in sexual bliss.Jolene's luscious body was building on the arousal of their last attempt at lovemaking. She suspected the orgasm that she wanted so much was coming. "I can't believe what your cock is doing to me," she gasped out, and immediately she felt Jim's manhood harden even more as she uttered the 'dirty words'.Her hips were thrusting into his as hard as he was thrusting into her. She was giving Jim the ride of his life! the book had told Jim. Having left behind her initial virginal reluctance and reserve Jolene throw herself into the act of love with wild abandon. She had no reservations this time and she actively joined in. Arching her back, she pressed her breasts into Jim's hands when he fondled her. His lips on her nipples sent the most wonderful sensations throughout her entire body. She was so intent on seeking her orgasm that she no longer cared who she was with. Her pleasure increased as she totally accepted Jim as her mate. Remembering what she had done earlier and what had excited her, Jolene ventured further into unexplored territory. She used every thrust as an experiment to try to find how she could to shift her body to achieve more stimulation. Every time he thrust into her, she responded, moving her hips, trying to position them so that, selfishly, she would receive the greatest stimulation.Jim, having the gratification of already fucking Jolene twice, concentrated on the lessons he had learned in that book, paying constant attention to her, listening to her responses, observing what she did, doing whatever he sensed pleased her.Panting hard, Jolene immersed herself in the warm excitement washing through her. It was more intense than anything she had ever experienced and Jolene's libido exploded to unbelievable proportions. Jim was doing new and wonderful things to her. Her sexual energy was sizzling and she was squirming and tingling in all the right places!Poor Jim struggled to keep up with Jolene's incredibly self-absorbed efforts. It was only Jim's youthful stamina that gave him the energy, and the fact that he had already climaxed twice that gave him the 'staying power' to meet Jolene's demands, working with her as she frantically pursued the much desired orgasm.Jolene barely heard the sensual words he whispered in her ear, lost in her own storm of sexual heat and lust. Her whole body ached as his cock drove her toward orgasm. She closed her eyes.He clutched her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers as he pressed deeply into her womanhood: The womanhood that felt like a vice of soft flesh clamped around him.And suddenly, without warning, Jim's golden haired mate thrashed and screamed as the tingling in her breasts turned into the illusive orgasm, claiming her, convulsing through her enthusiastic body. Jolene's face transformed into an expression of euphoria and adoration. She latched her heels behind his knees, to pull her pubis against his. Her fingers clawed at his back as she arched her spine and screeched with pleasure. Engulfed in an ultimate will-breaking orgasm, Jolene felt nothing but hunger and lust, pleasure and debauchery. She came over and over, screaming and sobbing in lust filled paroxysms that couldn't possibly be reality. She thrust over and over onto the cock that had made her cum.The huge orgasm shook her soft body and Jolene wailed. Arching into him, she screamed as her orgasmic spasms continued.Jim pounded all the harder, wanting to make her climax again, even though his own cock was ready to explode. Filled with his own lust, he grabbed her hips so that he could drive into her even more powerfully."Yes!" Jim yelled and he came with a loud howl. He shot his load deep into her. They were both bucking and twisting in erotic pleasure.Jolene felt his cum filling her and she screamed as yet another gigantic climax claimed her. Stars and fireworks exploded as her body pulsed and spasmed.Completely energized by Jolene's display of wanton passion, Jim pumped yet another load of milky semen deep into her, his climax overlapped hers. Her muscles tightened, milking him. And an unexpected, delicious feeling sweep over Jim.Finally, the wonderful, mutual climax ran its course and both teens slumped into the bed. Jolene, panting and sobbing, lay there quivering and helpless. There was nothing clear in her mind except that never before had she experienced more pleasure and satisfaction.Jim rolled to the side, relieving her of his weight but still holding her tightly, and listened to her pants and sobs. Ever so gently, he caressed her sweaty body.Jolene smiled, her eyes focused on infinity. She was filled with a profound sense of satisfaction.The two lovers lay entwined, sweating, puffing and pantingJim felt secret delight in his blatant corruption of the captain of the cheer leading squad. His wish had been simply to fuck Jolene this afternoon. The fact that she had become so passionately aggressive exponentially increased the intense pleasure he was already enjoying. And with the eagerness she had displayed, combined with his youth and stamina, he suspected he probably could fuck her at least two or three more times more this afternoon before hitting his limit.As they both came down from their post coital highs, Jolene was frightened by the wanton libido and passion that had been released within her. Her passion was burning so hot that she was afraid of where it might lead. She didn't kn

A friend of Bernie Wooster's Aunt Agatha shows upenexpectedly and drops her backward twenty- something son off for a month after receiving Bernie's promise that he will be sheltered from the evils of the big city. Less than twenty-fours later the son, having disappeared for the day, shows up hopelessly drunk at the front door, having decided he is going to make up for all the years he was sheltered.  Bernie turns to Jeeves for advice.#PGWODEHOUSE  #ASKJEEVES   Join us at www.bestof1001stories.com and catch all 12 podcasts!  Reviews appreciated!

Back to basics, some game you probably never heard of that we didn't like. That's the basic essence of the show, right? It has to come up sometimes. I'm talking about the show here because honestly I can't think of much to say about this sort of generic "There are secrets in the world that you can't learn about without going crazy" type game that isn't already in the episode. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

There's a bounty out to find the missing son of Kirkwall's viscount. What a better way to earn some gold and rise in the estimation of the nobility Hawke should have been part of? Too bad Hawke isn't first to the party. The Winters already have a lead, but they don't seem the type of people to talk things out. With the blessing of the Seneschal, Hawke can intervene and try to bring Saemus home safely. Upon arrival, it's too late to prevent the murder of the Qunari blamed for Saemus's disappearance, but it's not too late to protect Seamus from the people who killed his friend. Special thanks to Redd Spinks for our amazing logo as well as to Miracle of Sound for the song Age Of The Dragon, which we use as our theme music. Check out this week's Fandom Corner: Haunt Your House You can find the show on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Bluesky and Facebook! Please rate and review us on Apple Podcasts! Rate us on Spotify! Wanna join the Certain POV Discord? Click here!

On today's poddy we get serious for a moment on working towards being our happiest and healthiest selves. Check the gram for the funnies @haurakibigshowSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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Nightcrawling the Triplets By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Night Crawling with the Thompkins Triplets "He say I 'posed to suck he dick when he get here. He say he got a big un," Beulah Thompkins commented offhandedly as she scrubbed a berry stain from a white linen shirt. "Dey all say dat," her sister Miriam snipped back. "What he gon' giv'n you if'n you does?" Her dark hands were lathered in lye soap. "I sucked his dick dat one time, you 'member I tole you? Down by de back fence?" interjected Dinah, the third sister, ignoring Miriam's query. "It ain't l'il. I've sucked bigger, d'ough."The three slave women were identical triplets, well past puberty, and more than familiar with the Southern poontang tradition imposed upon comely young black women in northeast Louisiana. This late summer afternoon found them hand washing the Thompkins family clothing in the creek using smooth stones and homemade soap. They gossiped as they worked. Beulah Thompkins' comment about Bennett Leone's impending visit was considered of no more consequence than a treatise on owl migration patterns. "You sucked his dick? What he giv'n you?" Beulah asked Miriam. "A bad case of jizz breff!" Dinah laughed. "Shut up, Dinah." Miriam snapped. "Leastways I only sucked his dick an' sent him home. You sucked his dick an' den you offered he de poosy to boot! fo' free!" "Pissh. My poosy need jist as much relief as he dick. And so do your'n, tell de troof an' shame de Debil! Why ah'm-a let him shoot his foofy in my mouf' an' don't get no joy on my own account? You sound stupid." "Dat ain't de point. You know dat ain't de point. Supposin' Marse Tommy find out you been givin' some-a his poosy to Marse Bennett? For free? He don't like Marse Bennett no how on account of that time Marse Bennett made Chollie whup him down to the swimmin' hole." "I wish'd I coulda been dere to see dat!" Beulah mused absentmindedly. "Well I was dere", Miriam continued. "An' you ain't seen nuttin' tell you sees a chocolate lass cut loose on a white boy. Chollie whupped dat crackuh's ass up one side an' down de udder. Some-a de udder white boys went to help Marse Tommy but Marse Bennett said he'd sic Chollie on dem, too. Come right out and said he'd fight on Chollie's side! Dat made 'em gulp back some tobacky, lemme tell you!" "Lawdy! Dat wuz sev'm years ago! I'll suck Marse Bennett's dick six ways from Sunday if he'll sic Chollie on ole Tommy one mo' again!" Beulah smirked. "Bof' 'um's grown now. Chollie only got away wid it 'cause dey's boys. He take and go upside Marse Tommy's haid now and Marse Bennett cain't protect him like he did back den. Marse Tommy'll get up a posse an' go an' lynch Chollie, you watch and see. String him right up and Benny cain't he'p him." Dinah noted. "Dat Chollie is de one whose dick you oughta be lookin' at suckin'", Miriam observed with a note of satisfaction. "Dass one good-lookin' blackie." "I know, right? But de onliest time we sees him is at church. An' he don't come half de time. He stay home wid' his Pa." "You let me catch him alone one time, jist once. I'll put it on him so good he won't never wanna go back to de Leone's. He-a change his name to Thompkins!" Miriam vowed. "Yeh, yeh. We know. Yo' poosy is de sunshine in de sky. I'd like to see you to prove it, Miss Braggadodiodo." Beulah challenged. "Oh ho! You got a dick I can wrap my Priscilla around? Pull it out. She'll have you screamin' my name out loud." "Not my dick. Oh no! Marse Bennett's dick, when it get here" "I thought you wuz de one gwine suck his dick? What my Priscilla got to do wit' yo bid'ness?" "You de one always braggin' about she. Let's see what she can do. Less'n youse skeered." "Skeered-a what? Whiteboy dick? Please." Dinah intervened. "She's right, you know. You de one always make it seem like yo poosy don't stink. 'N lawd knows I smells yo fish market ever' day. Yit when de big dicks come to callin', you always got sump'n else to do. I bet yo' throat see mo' dick den yo' poochipap do." "Youse a damn lie. My Priscilla done seen mo' dick den you an' Beulah put togedder. I jist don't go runnin' off at the mouf about it. Bof' you heffahs talk too much." "Who you done put it on, den? Besides Marse Tommy an' Freddy Harkness?" "Dass fo' me to know an you to find out." "Like I said: All mouf an' no poochipap." Miriam decided to change tactics. "What's he gon' gimme to let him slip his dick up into my Priscilla? He gimme a peppermint ball to suck his dick that other time. My Priscilla is worf' a whole lot more'n dat." "He white! He ain't gotta give you nuttin'! Marse Tommy been all up in yo poosy, too, an' all he giv'n you was a snootful o' jizz!" "Dass diffunt. Marse Tommy own dis place an' you and me bofe. Marse Ben is a visitor. An' he ain't 'posed to be here no how, seein' as how Marse Tommy don' like him. A gennulman always leaves a lady wif a 'commodation for her time an' talents." "'Commodation my ass. You jist skeered. 'Commodations is fo' white womens' poosies. Yo poosy is on call." "So what you wan' me to do?" Miriam asked. "Show you how to suck dick? Ain't I already did that? It ain't me who made dese cheek-poke arrangements." "I, I, wanna suck his dick." Beulah said hesitantly. "So who's stopping you?" "I, I, want y'all to help me, is all." "You need help sucking a dick? What's ailin' you?" "I, I, want y'all to pitch in." "Oh I get it!" chirped Dinah. "You want to put it on him! Priscilla, Patricia and Pamela all at the same time!" (Priscilla, Patricia and Pamela were the given names for their respective pussies) "Yeah." "You tryna kill him", observed Miriam warily. "I'm tryna see his face when you whip Priscilla on him, since she so good." "Trust me. He won't be awake for long. He might faint. You better let him taste Pamela first 'cause if you don't Pamela is goin' dry." "You can trust me. Pammie ain't never dry", Beulah countered confidently. Bennett Leone, the white scion of a tobacco farm two miles distant, waited until Annie Leone's easy snoring permeated their shared loft bedroom. He hadn't bothered his sister for her sex this night, preferring to conserve his strength for his planned late evening foray over at the Thompkins farm. Annie noticed his unusual reticence. She correctly deduced that he had other plans. She knew Ben well; her brother didn't just pass up free pussy. "Ever' time his dick gets hard he wants to get it wet", she noted. "He don't waste no 'rections." Rather than challenge him on the matter, Annie rolled over and promptly fell asleep. In the morning Ben's dick would be resting against her upper lip, seeking the warmth of her throat like always, no matter whose pussy juices graced his shaft the night before. Ben played his part in this charade admirably. He nestled into his bed until he found a comfy position. As time passed he offered up some measured snores, softly at first, but deepening in timbre with each iteration. Annie noted his fake snoring with a wan shake of her blonde tresses. "Go fuck whichever heffah suits you, Benny. Jeez! My pussy needs some rest anyway. It's not like we're married." While he waited for Annie to drift off, Ben ruminated about Beulah Thompkins. The black girl and her family had been to church this past Sunday, sitting up in the balcony with the rest of the slaves. She wore a white ankle-length frock buttoned up to her neck. Ben couldn't help but imagine the svelte curves underlying her Victorian raiment, the luscious milk chocolate tits, her velvet pubic mound. All three of those Thompkins triplets were fine as hell. They sucked a mean dick, too. Tommy Thompkins didn't like sharing them, selfish bastard. After church Ben sought Beulah's attention. Catching her eye, he gave her the time honored come on, that is, he poked his tongue into his cheek twice to simulate female fellatio. Beulah, surprised at being thus selected, smiled and dropped her eyes demurely. They were in church, after all! When she raised her head again she sought Ben's gaze and poked her tongue into her cheek just once, signifying acceptance. Ben looked around. Scores of parishioners were laughing and milling about while conversing. His surreptitious cross-crowd conversation with the black girl went unnoticed in the hubbub. He mouthed the word "Wednesday" voicelessly across the racial chasm between them. (Even after church, the races didn't mingle). Beulah nodded her assent. And that was that. They would meet at the Thompkins swimming hole. Ben couldn't risk being caught on Tommy's farm after hours. Annie's measured snoring brought Ben back to the present. He peeked out at his sister. In the nighted gloom he could see that she'd snuggled her shoulders and tits under her blanket, but her naked ass poked out to the very edge of her bed. Her hairy labia swelled from between her ass cheeks, barely concealing her pink slit. It gleamed wetly. Annie's rounded ass rose and ebbed tremulously with each breath. Ben's penis surged at the sight. "Beulah better be good. Look at what I'm passing up!" Ben mused silently. He stepped to his sister with his erect member in hand and eased his pudenda back and forth along the horizontal line of her crevice. Unconsciously, Annie drew her right leg up to afford him better access to her pinkness. Even asleep, she was used to such intrusions. Ben eased forward until his helmet disappeared into her slippery cooze. Rather than plunge further in, Ben gripped his shaft and began to masturbate. He stroked his shaggy foreskin sensually against Annie's pussy lips, relishing the sticky sound of their intercourse and the sweet aroma thereof. All too soon Ben's jism sprayed forth in fits and spurts. "That's it. That's good. Now I won't cum too fast with Beulah. I cain't have her telling her sisters I cain't fuck." Ben pulled his sticky wet cock back into his drawers, then threw on his coveralls and climbed out of the loft. He sneaked out the front door and soon disappeared into the darkness. Alone in the loft, Annie reached down between her legs to scoop some of Ben's jism. She drew it to her lips and sniffed it. "Whoever it is he's fucking, he don't want her to think he cums too fast", she correctly surmised. Then she rolled over and dropped back off to sleep. Ben hurried down the darkened dirt road to the Thompkins place two miles distant. He didn't bother to disguise his egress. Any slave catchers about would quickly notice his race and allow him to pass. He wouldn't need to dissemble his intent until he approached the Thompkins farm. Ben knew of a path that avoided the Thompkins' hound dogs. It led to the Thompkins' swimming hole where, undoubtedly, Beulah would be waiting. Ben hoped she'd been thoughtful enough to bring a blanket. Though he'd only asked for a blowjob, poontang was always a viable option at these encounters. . Arriving at the Thompkins' swimming hole, Ben looked about cautiously. A full moon bathed the pond in twilight. There were shadows at the tree line, but the small sandy beach leading into the water was fully exposed. "Bea?" Ben called out cautiously. "Bea? You here?" "Yassuh" came Beulah's soft reply as she stepped into the gladelight from the woods. Ben grinned. Beulah was naked from the waist up. Her tits bounced saucily in the moonlight, perky ebony nipples upturned and shiny. Her breasts were much bigger than when he'd last seen them. Plus, she'd thought to bring a blanket. "Yes!" As she approached him, Beulah wiggled free of her skirt. By the time she reached Ben she was fully and spectacularly naked. Ben took a moment to regard her. She had an hourglass waist, full dark lips and an impish smile. A curly patch of black pubic hair outlined her vagina. She didn't look as muscular as Charlie's sister Ruthie or his cousin Tilly. She looked soft. Curvy. Like a girl. The Thompkins triplets pressed their natural hair straight with a hot comb. Ben didn't know how Beulah did it, but she wore her hair parted a little off to the left and straight down to her shoulders. It bounced in conjunction with her breasts when she walked. Unlike a white woman's hair, however, if Beulah's hair became wet for any reason it would draw up into an unmanageable kinky mass. Beulah knew this. She wasn't planning on swimming anytime soon. Whether she sweated some naps into it this night depended entirely upon Ben. "Damn, girl! You look good!" Ben opened. "I know." Beulah replied. She didn't offer a compliment in return. "I see you brung a blanket. You got some plans?" Ben asked disingenuously. "I might. If'n you don't mind?" "I don't mind at all! Spread it out here. Right here away from the water." Beulah did as she was told. "You brung my lollipop?" she asked innocently. "What lollipop?" Ben was taken aback. "De lollipop you wuz braggin' about in church." "Oh! This!" Ben flumped his heavy cock from his pants. It reeked of fresh semen and sticky pussy. Beulah scrunched her face up. "Who said anything about yo' dick? You tole me you had a store-bought lollipop. Dass what de cheek poke mean." Ben was confused. "No. I, I meant, you know what I meant. Stop playin' around, girl. I come all this way and, " Beulah smiled up at him. "I'm jist playin' wit chu," she said. Turning her attention to his exposed penis Beulah commented: "My! You done growed since de last time I seen Mr. Petey Winkle! You 'member dat time? All us wuz playin' in de water out here? We wuz kids. Look at you! I guess you think you a man, now, hey?" She took his cock in her hand and caressed it. Predictably, it hardened and lengthened. "Nice!" she said. "Who you been doin' it to? Dis dick smell like wet pooncey." "It always smell like that. You don't like that smell?" Ben ventured. "It's aiight, I guess. It might smell better if it was my poosy on dere." "We can make that happen, too, if you want." Ben noted hopefully. "Nope," Beulah said. "You said you wanted yo' lollipop licked. An' dass all I'm fi'nda do." "Then why'd you bring the blanket?" Ben queried. "You'a see." Beulah answered. She knelt before him and took his penis into her mouth. The scent of Annie's recently plumbed labia majora shrieked into Beulah's nostrils. She drew back. "Whew! Whoever's poosy dis is on here, it sho' is pow'ful!" Ben ignored her comment. He closed his eyes and pressed Beulah's head back into service. Soon he was roiling his hips in little swirlets, plunging his cock down the black girl's throat. The scent of her fellatio mixed with the scent of his earlier sleep creep to produce a uniquely alluring aroma. Ben pulled his cock from her mouth, bent and kissed her. They shared tongues lavishly for a moment before Ben stood and re-inserted his dick between her lips. Beulah grasped his thighs and chickenheaded him slowly. Occasionally she took a long, lavish lick up and down his shaft, marveling at its veiny texture, becoming more and more intoxicated by the masculine odor of his thick, meaty phallus. Pammie was soaked and quivering. Bea flickered her tongue against the sensitive nerves under his cockhead like a snake. This drove Ben into paroxysms of electric delight. He pressed his cock as deep into her throat as it would go. When he withdrew his cock was coated in bubbly foam. A rising tide of crackling heat lightning accumulated behind his eyelids. "If I cum now, how long before I can cum again?" he wondered. "Oh Lordy! Hold back, Benny! Keep it right there!" Ben bent and kissed her again. This time their kiss was deeper, more sensual. Her ample lips differed from the white girls he'd kissed. They were thicker, more supple, more akin to a woman's labia. Moreover, her mouth tasted of creamy coffee laden with cane sugar. Her lips were heart-shaped, her lower lip being slightly larger than her upper lip and dimpled at its mid-section. She kissed with the suckle of a freshly minted vagina bursting alive into volcanism. Reluctantly, Ben straightened and offered his dick to her again. He watched with amazement as those transcendent lips widened to engulf him. "Only Annie sucks dick like this. Bea's pussy must be crazy hot!" While Ben was devising a plan to get Beulah splayed out, ankles-to-earlobes, on the blanket, a second wettened heat source sent rivulets of electricity scorching up from his groin. Ben looked down. Amazingly, Beulah's sister Dinah had come from nowhere, knelt, and added her silky lips to the fray. She looked up at him with a wicked smile. Beulah looked at her sister with approval. She continued to nurse at his pud while Dinah chewed small hickies into Ben's shaft with her teeth. Ben closed his eyes and let the sisters have at it. Two Beulahs! Each identical! He couldn't tell them apart. If they switched positions, he couldn't tell whose name to shout out during the money shot. Ben caressed both their heads and encouraged them to continue. His dick steamed with surge as he struggled to suppress his ejaculate. The longer he held out, the bigger the explosion would be when he finally released. As Ben squirmed in the agony of his pre-ejaculatory extremis, a third mouth sent shockwaves up his frame. It was Miriam, the third triplet. She, too, was naked. He'd hit the jackpot! Miriam wore her hair pulled back into a girlish ponytail. It's the only way Ben could tell her apart from her siblings and, indeed, she wore her hair differently for this exact purpose. She took up a position opposite Dinah on the other side of Ben's shaft and nibbled him further into submission. This was just too much. Ben felt like a gymnast holding an impossibly unnatural position on the rings. His muscles burned. His body clenched as rigid as any penis. Fires raged from his eyeballs. His knees felt like jelly, unable to support his weight. Finally, Ben surrendered to the inevitable. He fired a massive burst of jism against Beulah's tongue, bucking and straining with the effort. Soon her mouth was awash in spunk. It dripped like honey from her supple lips and her teeth. She held her mouth open so that her sisters and Ben could see his jism accumulate into a tapioca-like puddle on her tongue. Then she smiled and blithely swallowed his issue down. "Move, girl", Miriam ordered in her best "take-charge" fashion. "You gon' let his dick get soft before I gets my chance." Miriam's brusqueness broke Ben's post-orgasmic reverie. "It's my turn at the tip", Dinah interrupted. "I wuz here 'fore you was." "You gon' has to wait. Bea done drained his dick. You don' know how to suck no drained dick. If we has to wait on you we'll be here all night. Lemme get him hard again and den you kin suck him all you want. He won't be in no rush to shoot his jizz again, not after that pile he just unloaded on Bea." Dutifully, Beulah ceded her spot to Miriam. Beulah took up Miriam's position along Ben's lumbering shaft. Now in the catbird's seat, Miriam paused to sniff the air dramatically. "Dang, girl!" Miriam commented to Beulah. "Pamela sho' is payin' off! She sho' ain't dry. You wasn't lying 'bout dat much. Hey, I bet you Pammie can get him hard faster'n I can, you reckon?" "He ain't axed for Pammie, Miri. I give him what he axed fuh." "Just cause he ain't axed for Pammie don' mean we cain't put Pammie to good use. I ain't seen the fella yet as don't want a sloppy wet piece-a prime poosy, even if he ain't got the sense to axe fuh it. An' you needthe practice, anyways. Stand up." Beulah did as she was told. Of equals, Miriam was the most equal sister. "Raise yo' leg up. Like this." Beulah complied. "Whew! You smell like a buncha dicks been up in you already! You smell dat, Di?" Dinah smirked. "Shut up, Miri. Pammie jist wet is all. Bea been suckin' dick. You ack like cain't nobody's poosy get riled up but your'n." "I'm just sayin'," replied Miriam. Miriam positioned Beulah directly facing Ben, still woozy and swaying from his mammoth earlier splatter. She took Ben's limp penis and positioned it awkwardly between Beulah's labia, centered at the entrance to her hole. Using her index finger, she pushed Ben's spent member up into her sister's pussy. It slid easily inside. Pammie was slick with the lubrication of passion. "Now squeeze," Miriam said. Beulah clenched her pussy lips together. In doing so she drew Ben's cock deeper into her snatch. She stretched him like a rubber dildo. "Again." Miriam ordered. Ben groaned. This hurt. "Don't squeeze that hard, Bea! You wanna kill him? Or do you wanna get him rousted up agin? Suck at him with Pammie, don't yank. Like this." Miriam pulled Ben's penis from Beulah's pussy and took it into her own mouth. She suckled at it tenderly, as a baby nursing a nipple, laving it with her tongue and coating it with extravagant bubbles of spittle. "Go soft at first, Bea. When it get hard you can go faster", she advised. "Why you so concerned?" Beulah asked. "Because I need him to be rock hard when Priscilla time come, dat's why! "Well, why you ain't whupped Priscilla on him already then?" "Because you needs dah prackis more'd I duz. Dat's why. Stop axin' dumb questions an' hotch yo' stankin' poosy on over here. See here? Look, he already giv'n a little twitch. Push it up in there. Yeh, like that. See? He comin' around." Pammie closed around Ben's dick again. All three sisters watched, fascinated, while Beulah roiled her vagina in circlets, twisting Ben's foreskin in spirals against the meaty flesh beneath. The heated merger their genitalia produced a smoky, decadent aroma that Miriam and Dinah found titillating. Both of their overheated purple vaginas began to moisten and drip. Beulah dropped her leg to the ground, standing to the task at hand. Ben's cock had regained sufficient tumescence that the fornicating pair could just grip each other by their respective asses and grind. Both of them stared down the line of their torsos at the dick twisting obscenely into Pammie's aching furry love lips. Beulah began to finish each spiraling insertion with a quick in/out shimmy that released Ben's foreskin from its rat-tail spinner and allowed her clit a gratuitous swipe against his crimson pubic mound. Beulah began to tremble and sweat. The presence of her sisters was no longer a concern. She was adrift in the ocean of sexual prurience only brought about by a thick, shaggy cock. Beulah's world became laser-focused on Pammie's wants and needs. "Rub me this way, Bea", Pammie advised. Beulah complied. "Pull back slow and hit him hard, Bea!" Pammie ordered. Beulah complied. "I just wanna suck at him, Bea. Oh! Lemme Suck!" Pammie moaned. And Beulah complied. Pammie's curly-haired lips nurtured and suckled at Ben's pulsating dick. "All the way to the back, Bea! Now hit it right there! And grind!" Pammie demanded. Beulah did as she was told. Pammie expanded and contracted about Ben's pole with great bursts of succulent lust. Having recently cum, Ben surged into her with power and dexterity, unencumbered by the fear of a pre-mature release. He chortled at Beulah's "I'm about to cum!" face. Turnabout was fair play. Even when he noticed Beulah's sisters lapping at his balls Ben continued to punish Pammie for Beulah's earlier impertinence. He pounded her relentlessly. "Ah! fuck!" Pammie screamed (metaphorically) as she locked tight about Ben's cock, sending innumerable spastic vaginal quivers up and down its length. "Feed it to me Benny, I need to taste it!" In response, Ben turned Beulah around and fucked her doggystyle while guiding her forward, binding her wrists behind her with his strong hands. Pammie continued to scream and beg for succor. With the right sort of ears one could hear her pleadings in the sticky mishmash of Ben's conquest. Pammie unleashed pussy fart after pussy fart as she dealt with the nuclear explosions Ben unleashed inside her chocolate liquid heat. Miriam and Dinah laughed to hear Pammie's indelicate pussy flatulence. "I hope dat wasn't de real thing, girl!" It sure sounded real. Beulah wasn't paying attention. She was unmoored from reality, basking in the glow of her own walking pussy thunder. Pammie raced up and down the arc of Ben's muscular scythe. She was on a mission to coat herself in his love honey and so complete their assignation with drip. Ben, though, had other ideas. There were two more pussies here in need of dick mastery. If not, they wouldn't have come. Besides, he doubted if even Tommy Thompkins had the wherewithal to take on all three triplets at once. If he had, he certainly would have bragged about it before now. Pammie was trembling out the last vestiges of her passion before him. Her owner, Beulah, was splayed out in the blanket, rounded ass in the air, head down, quaking uncontrollably. Pammie, too, was gasping for breath, quivering open and shut about his cock, pressing him for fertilization. "Git down here you two", Ben ordered the other sisters. He lined Dinah and Miriam up on either side of Beulah, asses up, heads down, arms stretched forward. Beulah slumped, now blind with passion. She was exhausted. Ben was still rock hard inside Pammie, roiling up her foam. It didn't look as if Pammie was going to dine on his love honey. Ben wasn't even breathing hard. Ben withdrew his cock from Pammie's luxuriant grasp. She sent him on his way with a burgeoning cum bubble that popped when it encountered Beulah's kinky pubic hair. Beulah fell over sideways. She opened her thighs to the night air. Waves of heat rose expansively from her mound. Now Ben sidled up behind Dinah and inserted himself. Patricia smiled open and welcomed him inside with an expressive sigh of anticipation. Dinah's ass wobbled as Ben's cock peeled Patricia wide and cruised past her cocoa pussy lips and into her core. "Oh. Shit." Dinah whispered. Ben gripped both of her buttocks in his manly hands. He massaged them as he established an erotic dance rhythm with Patricia. Watching his penis surge deep and deeper from above, Ben again felt that primordial, pre-orgasmic stickiness in his belly, that silky march up the plateau of ecstasy to ultimate completion. "It's too soon!" he thought. "There's another one here! I have to do all three! Calm down, Benny!" His dick had other ideas. Patricia differed from Pamela in that she was deeper, an older soul, less frantic, more accommodating. Patricia made Ben feel more like a man and less like a boy on the verge of becoming a man. Patricia said, "Come on in. Sit down. Spend some time with me. Kiss me. Lick me. Sniff me. Suck me. Fuck me. You like me? Good. Let me caress you. You look like you've had a long day." Merging with Patricia was an act of union, not an act of dominance. Her sticky vaginal song validated penises with comfort. She was solace personified. She wasn't competition. If Ben came pre-maturely, Patricia didn't laugh. Patricia simply said, "Whew! That was nice! You're so good! so big! Let's do it again, now." Her confidence in him was infectious. It was the thing that most precipitated Ben's pre-orgasmic march. Dinah's strident moans didn't hurt the process, either. Miriam was a little put off to be just a spectator at Dinah's love fest. What if he came inside Patricia and couldn't get it up again? Priscilla was a demanding agitator, a dominator, a vast chasm of rampant carnality primed to detonate and implode at a moment's notice. She wasn't used to being left out in the cold. Miriam consoled herself with the maxim "He's saving the best for last". Priscilla didn't give a shit about maxims. Priscilla wanted dick. She wanted fresh dick, too, not spongy, already-been-chewed, grouchy ass, "don't touch me, bitch!" dick. Miriam found herself becoming more and more anxious as she watched Patricia weave her exotic charms up and down the length of Benny's love muscle. "She's gon' make him cum, I jist know it!" Miriam noticed, too, that Beulah was coming around. She seemed to have recovered somewhat from her debilitating orgasm and was taking an interest in Ben and Dinah's ongoing tryst. Fuck this shit." Priscilla snorted indignantly. "What do you want me to do?" Miriam mewled. Get up off you ass. Somebody is sure to come looking for us before I gets mine." Priscilla continued. "I cain't just move Dinah out of the way. It's her turn!" Miriam fumed. "He got a tongue, don't he?" Priscilla suggested. "Oh. Yeah." Miriam consented. Stung into action by Priscilla's uncompromising demands, Miriam stood and theatrically straddled Dinah's shoulder blades facing Ben. She hooked her thumbs into the backs of her hips and shoved her pelvis forward. She preened Priscilla's bushy black triangle there for Ben's consideration, as if he'd taken far too long to consider her, and he'd better damn well take her into account soon or else she was leaving. Ben looked at Miriam curiously through poosy-clouded lenses. "What?" he queried breathlessly, communicating with his eyes. "Lick it", Miriam said aloud. "Lick it? Now?" Ben replied, again with his eyes. "Did, did, did I studder? Lick it!" Miriam snarled in a tone bereft of any hint of racial subservience. Shocked into compliance, Ben leaned forward and nuzzled his nose into Priscilla's fragrant curly patch even as he continued to hump Dinah's rump. "I ain't say sniff it. I said lick it." Miriam ordered. Out popped Ben's tongue. Miriam gripped the back of his head brusquely. From there Priscilla took over. She gripped Ben's tongue with her pliant, prehensile pussy lips and tugged at it, let it slip north to tickle Miriam's clit and then roiled it side to side against her sugar walls. Miriam groaned. "That's more like it", Priscilla said. Now Miriam began to service Priscilla at the tip of Ben's tongue. He continued to fuck Dinah, but Priscilla quickly took control of their sexual conversation. She was selfish like that. None of the triplets were surprised at this turn of events. Two of the triplets, however, were astounded at the next move. Without being noticed, Beulah loomed up behind Ben. She was smaller than he. That didn't stop her from gripping Ben by the hips and driving Pammie up between his buttocks as if Pammie were a cock and Ben's ass was Pammie's chosen orifice. She caught him on the downstroke and shoved Pammie so far up as to brush against Ben's cornhole, where her throbbing clit probed for entry. Pammie's forceful momentum drove Ben's cock into Patricia's maw with greater impetus on the upstroke. Thus, all three triplets were in play. Ben was shocked. "All three?" Yes, all three. Pammie humped Ben. Ben humped Patricia. Priscilla sucked Ben's tongue. None of the triplets knew Ben's dick by its given name. (He called his dick "Sir"). Choice epithets filled the surrounding glade. Ben gritted his teeth. This was going to make for some story tomorrow when he and Charlie were sweating in the fields. "Man up, Benny", advised Sir. They fucked in this manner until, predictably, Priscilla called for deeper penetration, thus mandating a change in position. "Fuck this half-ass pussy licking. I need some dick." Priscilla complained. "Okay! Okay!" Miriam conceded. "Dinah, I'm ready." Miriam said aloud, at Priscilla's behest. "Okay. Hold on a sec," Dinah conceded. "Benny? Honey? Go a little, faster. I'm, almost there." "Now, Dinah," Miriam ordered. Dinah ignored her. She was on the verge of perfection. Priscilla could kiss her ass, selfish ho. "Dinah!" Miriam persisted. "Bitch!" Dinah exploded. "Ain't you heard me say I'se almost there? I ain't none-a yo' ho. I'm-a get mine the same as you. Hush yo puffy n' let me finish!" It wasn't often that one of the sisters put Miriam in her place. When it happened, Miriam pouted for days. "She'll come around," noted Dinah. She urged Ben to intensify his efforts. "Keep goin', Benny, I'm, Oh harder, that's it. Put it, right, in, There! Oh!" Patricia seized up suddenly and hurtled Dinah into the nighted abyss without a parachute. She exploded into light shards that slowly twinkled earthward, leaving swirly smoke contrails in their wake. "Oh, oh, oh, oh. Fuck me! Fuck me you son'o bitch Fuck! The theatrics of her climax cowed her sisters into silence. "Wow. Look at that." Dinah bucked and juked like a hellhound unhinged. Miriam leapt away from her standing position astride Dinah's shoulders. Beulah paused in her assault on Ben's behind to watch. Without losing Patricia's grip on Ben's dick, Dinah scissored her legs acrobatically, spun and swirled back onto her shoulder blades. She fucked Ben from the missionary position, legs up and spread wide, all the while screeching her passion into the night. She arched her back and lifted Ben's body entirely up into the air so that their genitalia served as their only point of contact. Ben was never so deep in her pussy. His weight smashed his balls against her taint and flattened her rounded ass cheeks. He flailed his arms and legs for balance against his awkward position atop her hips. With one last gasp and a mammoth springboard effort, Dinah hurled the young man off her body. He landed on his feet. Dinah did a somersault, then bounced up like a naked boxer, tits wobbling akimbo. She shimmied her shoulders, shook her hair loose and spin-jabbed her fists cockily, as with a speed bag. She looked askance at her sister Miriam. "Now, hussy. Top dat," she challenged. That's when Ben realized that the sisters were in competition. And he was their chosen foil. "I'll be doggoned!" Something had to be done about that unwarranted scenario. "I ain't none-a none of these bitches hoe", grumbled Sir. With that, Ben snatched Miriam up and made her assume the position. Dinah had cum, not he. Miriam protested weakly. She wanted to mount and ride, that being Priscilla's favored position. Ben twirled her back to doggystyle. "Git down here, I say." It was time to show these heffahs who the Big Dog was. His dick still lunged upward from his sac at a sixty-degree angle, magnificently erect, unyielding, uncircumcised and potent. Ben drew himself up to his full height so that these three Negresses could witness his rampant virility. He'd already left two of them lurching on the ground in ecstasy. Now he intended to soil each of these pussies with seed and let these bitches worry about the consequences later on. If they got pregnant, who gave a fuck? "I'm white", he reminded himself. "That's what I'M talkin' about", groused Sir. Ben mounted Miriam from behind. After using his dick to paint both of her southern cracks, he probed forward and proceeded to fuck her with wild abandon, first in one hole and then the other. He tortured her with innumerable power shots, driving her forward on the blanket and out into the grass. He stood her up while continuing to hump her from the rear mount. She climaxed explosively, like a voodoo dancer, but Ben whirled her around and made her kneel and suck his dick anyway, heedless of her post-coital tremor. When she finally could take no more, he called her sisters over and made them suckle at his root, too, making sure to wipe Priscilla's southern juices on their cheeks and lips. When he felt his jism burgeoning up from his testes, he stepped away from Dinah and Beulah's tandem fellatio, snatched Miriam's limp thighs open and poured himself into Priscilla with gusto. Her pussy bubbled obscenely with his milky seed, like a Yellowstone lava pond. It dripped from her hairy lips and poured over her ass cheeks into the grass beneath. It percolated into her asshole. Miriam was too fucked out to complain. Still, Ben was not finished. He reached for Beulah yet again and mounted her with his soggy, floppy dick. After five minutes of lavish grinding, Pamela had Ben's loins fired for another go. He withdrew and pointed his dick south into Beulah's doodihole from the missionary position. Beulah's eye's widened. Tommy Thompkins had plumbed her poop chute once or twice. His dick wasn't nearly as thick as Ben's. Plus, Tommy had taken his time out of consideration for the young girl's capacities; Ben didn't seem to be afflicted with that mindset. No, Ben seemed determined to make this assignation a "teachable moment" "Don't play wit' me, ho." He drove fiercely into her rectum, unconcerned with Beulah's shock at this sudden, unlubricated anal intrusion. When he was hilted, he drew back and fired a long, slow penetrating thrust forward to test the elasticity thereof. Beulah winced. Ben drew back again and again, going faster and faster still until the heat churned up by his penile friction elicited a feral cry of pleasure from the girl. "This is what it feels like to get fucked up the ass, girl. Your little piddly clit couldn't bust a grape", he whispered in her ear. "Yassuh! Yassuh! I knows it, Suh!" she cried aloud, reverting to type. Beulah's servile pleadings tempered his rage some. He slowed a bit to allow her natural gels time to accumulate. Ben didn't really enjoy anger banging. He liked to build his orgasms in layers, going slow, then fast, then deep, then rotational. Anger banging produced a brief but intense pop that receded quickly, leaving little afterglow. Ben decided to give Beulah another unexpected surprise. Still mounted missionary anal, he withdrew his cock from her ass. Bea thought he was moving on to another of the triplets with no small measure of relief. She sighed contentedly but rolled over into the standard doggystyle position, ass up, head down. The next thing she felt was Ben's head moving up between her thighs. She snapped her head back to make sure it was his head and not some wild new position with which she was unacquainted. His crimson moptop waggled up between. Was he? Washe? Yes, he was! He was going to lick Pammie! Unbidden! Ben reached up to grip her buttocks then pulled Pamela gently down onto his face. Beulah, twice shocked now at this unforeseen turn of events, was happy to oblige. Ben pointed to Dinah. She was lying on the blanket next to the copulating couple, regaining her strength from their earlier dynamic session. Ben pointed to his erect cock. He was lying on his back licking Beulah's pussy. Her knees skirted his ears. His cock still raged alone in the air. Dinah took the hint. She clambered atop his dick and gratefully inserted it into her pussy. "No." Ben ordered, taking a break from servicing Beulah's clit. "The other hole." Dinah released him from her cunt and eased her ass down upon his dick. Her sphincter popped open easily. She was more acquainted with the southern route than Beulah. The two sisters proceeded to sate themselves at the largesse of the white boy lying beneath. Ten minutes into their tri-une coupling, Miriam recovered enough to join the fray, making it an imbalanced foursome. Ben lay on his back while Beulah and Dinah serviced him. His arms and legs were splayed out on the blanket. Miriam stepped up and squatted over his right hand, bundled his fingers into an angular fist, then eased her sloppy wet pussy down upon it. She repeated this maneuver using each of his feet and finally, his left hand, before Ben was obliged by nature and necessity to rage his cum into Dinah's churning ass. This, of course, was Miriam's intent. Dinah was cobbling in on Priscilla's preferred mount. Unceremoniously, Miriam pushed Dinah out of the way. Ben's spent cock slipped from Dinah's ass and flumped onto his stomach, then rolled into its natural position along his left thigh. Jism dripped lazily from his pee-hole. Beulah continued to hump his face. She was lost in her own impending vaginal explosion. From below, Miriam could see Pamela gobble and pucker greedily at Ben's tongue. Beulah was twerking it. Miriam mounted Ben and took his penis into her pussy. She, too, began to twerk in rhythm with her sister. It took some doing, but Priscilla finally succeeded at re-energizing Ben's well-oiled penis. Miriam never doubted Priscilla's capacity. After her fourth cunnilingual orgasm, Beulah shrieked and fell away from Bens' face, leaving only Miriam mounted atop the boy. Beulah rolled onto her back and fanned her pussy expressively, wafting its odor into the night air. Dinah, too, fanned herself. Both women's nether regions were scorched from Ben's vibrant insurgency. Miriam now worked Ben for all he was worth. His dick was thrice drained, his nerve endings fried. The only thing left was a rock hard piece of purple meat aroused at the smell and the savor of a wildly exotic chocolate pussy whose talents equaled its legend. This was the true competition of the night, the last pair of sexual gladiators standing. Though Miriam's pussy was still chock full of Ben's semen, such was the animus of their coupling that Ben's residual joy juice bubbled down her cunt and drained from her hole. It coated Ben's balls in a bubbly white, creamy cluster of foam as she humped him. This cum cluster expanded to cover part of Miriam's ass and Ben's thighs like egg white meringue. Miriam's sisters looked on in amazement. Ben's deep purple cock reddened noticeably from the friction of Priscilla's strident efforts. It seemed to glow like an overheated piston in the midst of the bubbly foam. Having climaxed earlier, neither Ben nor Miriam was of a mind to just cum and get it over with. They wanted to fuck. They wanted to fully invest themselves of each other's genitals and leave burned out nubs where healthy, vibrant organs once stood. Ten minutes of sexual warfare ensued; Fifteen; Twenty. All one heard was the wicked sound of wet slapping pelvises as the white boy and the black girl ruthlessly assaulted one another. First Miriam was on top, then Ben supplanted her there. They rolled over and over on the blanket, fucking as if this were the last fuck to take place in the entire universe, and they'd been ordered to make it a good one, because no other fucks were to be had, ever again, in the entire history of the world. In time both of the remaining combatants fell into a blazing blur of sexual agony. Neither wanted to be the first to cum; both of them were on the verge of capitulation. Ben turned Miriam over and cooled his red-hot dick in her asshole for a bit. Priscilla's precocious penile predilection required Ben's presence, however. Miriam jerked forward, releasing him to the elements. When she eased back, she didn't need to manually point Ben's dick into her pussy. Priscilla gaped wide and gulped him in. Ben couldn't complain. Priscilla's silky mixture of thick, curly pubic hair and her sticky-hot internal purring engine tickled him like the magnificent engine of dick conquest that Miriam bragged of. Truly, Priscilla was top-shelf, premium quality hole. "Come on! Come on!" Ben demanded as he fought to restrain his ejaculate. "Give it to me, baby!" Miriam cajoled, using her most seductive dusky whisper voice. She needed to feel him surge and fire. "No. You go, first", Ben reiterated. "I will, if, you, will," Miriam wheedled breathlessly, straining to speak and concentrate on Priscilla at the same time. Ben tried one last futile line. "This, ain't, no, game, Miri. Bust a nut!" he groused in his best "I'm the white person here" voice. Miriam didn't answer. She knew she had him. She felt him quake and shimmer. "Here it comes", she told herself. With that she loosed Priscilla from bondage and hurled her into battle against the forces of semen rushing from the penis within. She screeched out her lust, driven by Priscilla's heated animus, and humped Benny like a locomotive steam engine. Ben smirked at her slyly. He leapt out of her pussy, cocked Beulah's legs open, inserted himself and erupted. This was the 'poosy' that brung him to the dance. His nuts tightened impossibly to squeeze the last dredges of seed from his tortured testes. "There. That's all three. I did it", he congratulated himself. Miriam was embarrassed to have been so put upon by her intended foil. She was still humping the air as Ben relieved himself in her sister's cunt, unaware of his sudden absence. Not only had he robbed her of the pleasure of his eruption, he'd faked an orgasm and she hadn't detected it. Up till then, Beulah had been the only one of the sisters who hadn't elicited his ejaculate. Well, she had swallowed his jizz puddle. That, apparently, didn't count. Both Dinah and Miriam already had his cum percolating from their nether regions. That, apparently, counted. Now Beulah counted, too. Dinah and Beulah laughed at Miriam's frustration. "I guess he fooled you!" they chimed. "Pssh. I ain't wanted his tired old jizz, anyway." Miriam's sour grapes attitude only made her sisters laugh harder. No one (to their knowledge) had ever given up on bustin' a nut in Priscilla. It was apparent to all three women knew that Beulah now had a leg up on Miriam. Their braggadocious sister had met her Waterloo. "Good one, Benny!" laughed Beulah. "You go, boy!" Dinah chuckled. "Yeah, Benny. You go", said Miriam, using verbiage a bit more literally than Dinah intended. All three black girls waded out into the pond to wash. "Don't get my hair wet." "Is you kiddin', Peaseyhaid? All that sweatin' you jist did?" Ben gathered up his things, dressed and made his way back to the road home. His mouth, cheeks, hands, feet, ass-crack and dick all resonated with the smell of milk chocolate pussy, leaving an ethereal, invisible pheromone trail in his wake. Unbeknownst to him, male animals in the forest were unintentionally aroused by his aromatic passage. They tracked him home. In the morning, Annette Leone awakened to find Ben's erect penis bulging up against her top lip, just beneath her nostrils. To be continued. By Bardot1990 for Literotica.

You've probably heard of anticipatory grief. Unbidden, hidden, and immediate, it comes with the diagnosis that your loved one has Alzheimer's. Depending on when the diagnosis was delivered, it can be several years or more before your loved one dies. Something in addition to anticipatory grief can also happen along the way, especially in those devastating late years of the disease. I call it Anticipatory Healing. It's connected to grief.  My husband had Alzheimer's. I'm publishing this episode on the second anniversary of his death. In these last two years, I've come to see my grief in three stages:  React:  This is the six-month, zombie-like period right after my husband died. I didn't have the mental energy to handle anything more than what was absolutely necessary -- the funeral, Social Security, insurance, probate, and more. I saw the fool's errand in all that wishful thinking I had indulged in when my husband was first diagnosed. I felt a new kind of empty.  Realize:  Over the next year, the truth of my new reality settled on my shoulders. I had already absorbed all of the routine tasks my husband used to handle. That happened several years earlier. Now there was a finality to those tasks. I learned to carry grief without it closing my throat or stinging my eyes. I needed to think about my future...because now I realized I had a future.  Reflect: I'm here now. Looking back, I can see how countless little visions of the future shaped the belief that I would survive. Those visions were not obvious! Some were born from frustration. Others from determination. Others from imagination. Hidden in those visions and experiences, I discovered inner strength. I learned to set wise priorities. I found joy, deep joy, in loving memories. I accepted my new life. In doing so, I anticipated that my heart would heal. 

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Will Jeeves rally round when the goggle-eyed Wilmot is foisted on Berty? P.G. Wodehouse, today on The Classic Tales Podcast.  Welcome to The Classic Tales Podcast. Thank you for listening.  The Vintage Episode for the week is “The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg”, by Mark Twain. Be sure to check it out on Tuesday.  If you have found value in the show, please consider becoming a monthly supporter. Help us to help other folks like you. Please go to http://classictalesaudiobooks.com and become a monthly supporter for as little as $5 a month. As a thank you gesture, we'll send you a coupon code every month for $8 off any audiobook order. Give more, and you get more! Thanks for helping us out.   Go to http://classictalesaudiobooks.com and become a supporter today.  Today's story is another in the series of P.G. Wodehouse short stories found in the volume My Man Jeeves. In case you haven't noticed, I'm recording anew all the stories in this volume. Some we've heard before, and some we haven't. So while today's story has shown up before, I hope you won't mind it again, recorded 15 years later.   And now, Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest, by P.G. Wodehouse. Follow this link to become a monthly supporter: https://store.classictalesaudiobooks.com/the-classic-tales-podcast-financial-supporter-10month-p246.aspx Follow this link to subscribe to our YouTube Channel:    Follow this link to subscribe to the Arsène Lupin Podcast:   Follow this link to follow us on Instagram:   Follow this link to follow us on Facebook:   Follow this link to follow us on TikTok:          

Poetry from NonBinary Review Issue #36: Heredity

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Preacher William, Valerie, & the seeds of discord.A Spring Break 14-part Novel.By FinalStand. Listen to the complete episode at Steamy Stories.Christina's late night visit.Anyway, we were uncoiling from the sofa and Rio was giving me this mysterious look when there was a knock at the door.“Dude, it is 11 o'clock,” Rio muttered. “Only bad news arrives this late.”“I'll go check it out,” I shrugged. There wasn't much else I could do. I opened the door and there stood Christina, looking pretty depressed.“Do you want to come in?” I asked.“I know you have company,” she replied. “Can we talk outside?” It wasn't too chilly but I wasn't wearing too much either.“Of course,” I walked onto the porch, leaving the door mostly closed behind me. “What's wrong?”“I've worked things out with Faith and the other girls,” Christina paced nervously. “We are all going to keep quiet about what you learned and see how we can turn this to our advantage.” I didn't say anything because she hadn't come to tell me the news of what had been the obvious move on her part so I was left wondering what was going on, then I saw it.I opened my arms to the side, palms forward, and waited. She saw the move and looked me over with obvious reluctance for what would come next. Finally, she stepped up to me and rested her forehead on my shoulder and let me encase her in my arms. It sucks to be alone, but it truly sucks being alone and being the one in charge even more.“God, Zane, I fucked up. I could have ruined Heaven's life,” she sighed. “The others trusted me and I let them down.”“You are not doing Heaven any favors by being paralyzed with doubt,” I told her. “You had no idea who you were up against and even if you had, you would still have weighed what was best for Heaven against the risks and pretty much acted in the same manner.”“You don't understand Heaven,” Christina said. “You don't understand her home life.”“Her home life is not my concern, Christina,” I pointed out. “The Heaven here and now is my concern, though, and it is the concern of several more friends she's made since coming to this school, friends she wouldn't have if she stayed in a hole.”“What if I fuck up again?” she worried. “So many girls are depending on me to keep the Chancellor at bay.”“I fuck up all the time and I'm still here,” I countered. “I know what you mean, though. Sometimes when these girls look at me like they expect me to have all the answers and I've got nothing, I want to run and hide.”“We don't have that luxury. We chose to stand up and now we must carry on in our struggle. I don't know about you, but I wasn't raised to quit,” I related to her.“I made a mistake, Zane. I don't make mistakes,” she declared.“I'm confused; have we lost?” I questioned her.“No,” she grumbled, “and that is not what I meant. I brought Faith in, I misread her, and we all suffered because of it. I was deceived.”“Well, someone should remind Christina Buchanan from time to time that she's human, and a pretty smart woman at that,” I replied. “You don't have to win every battle, only the last one.”“That is what my grandfather said,” she mumbled into my shoulder.“He sounds like a clever guy,” I said softly. “He should go far someday.” Since he was one of the richest men in America, I was probably right.“You can be a real jerk at times,” she muttered, but I noted she wasn't moving.“I have to agree with you,” I said, as I got up on my tiptoes and kissed her on the top of the head. I leaned back and tilted her head to me with a finger under her chin. “Christina Buchanan, would you marry me?” No one said anything for a minute.“Can I think about it?” she finally whispered.“Of course,” I assured her. “How could I be in love with you if I couldn't wait for you?”“How can you love me when you don't even know me?” she asked.“That's why it is love and not like,” I answered. “There are times you really piss me off but there is never a moment I don't want to be with you.”“You don't like me?” Christina studied me.“Right now I like you just fine, but you can be a real pain at times. See, I know what's right and you refuse to know your place,” I responded.“And what place is that?” she smiled.“Above me, smiling down,” I leaned in for a kiss.“No,” she shook her head.“No?” I pleaded.“We have a long way to go before I let you treat me like another one of your girls,” Christina informed me.“Okay,” I agreed.“No hard sell in my emotionally vulnerable state?” she mused.“You are safe with me, Christina,” I assured her.“That's good to know, Zane. Now go inside before Rio blows a gasket,” she smiled, slipped out of my arms, and walked toward her car. I still soaked up the marvel of her receding silhouette.Rio was leaning against the wall just inside the hallway when I got back in.“I don't get the two of you,” she grinned.“I love her,” was my only response.“That's good, because she's fucking nuts about you,” Rio laughed. I couldn't decide whether she was kidding or not.Later, we lay together in bed, Rio partially over me where she alternated between listening to my heartbeat and kissing my shoulder. She also had a hand between her legs and was doing some serious vaginal stimulation.“Zane.”“Yes?” I replied.“I had an abortion,” she confided in me.“Oh, okay,” was all I could manage to come back with.“‘Oh.' Is that it?” she sounded a bit hurt.“I figure there is more to the story than you had an abortion. So are you going to tell me what it is?” I inquired. She mulled that over for a few seconds.“I did some really stupid shit, like getting shit-faced drunk at some parties with people I barely knew, and pretty much got used like a whore. I didn't really care, and eventually I got knocked up,” she told me.“My parents, the big Pro-Lifers that they were, smuggled me out of state to a private clinic and aborted the kid. They never asked my opinion on the matter but I imagine that having a pregnant daughter who couldn't even name the father wasn't on their agenda,” she recited bitterly. I wrapped an arm around her, rolled over on her, and kissed her gently on the lips.“I don't know what to say,” I began. “I can't imagine what it was like to go through that.”“Huh,” Rio snorted. “My parents slapped me with anti-depressants and an implant, my ‘friends' told me it was for the best, not being teen Mom material and all, and I treated myself like a whore.”“Hell, I sucked and fucked the entire lawn crew once; I fucked my little brother's friends; and I became known as the girl who would ride bareback at my school. It is a miracle I didn't contract herpes or AIDS,” she recited sadly. “I think I hated just about everybody.”“You know that none of that matters to me; right?” I asked. “You are still that woman I woke up next to on day one.”“To the bitter end,” she recited.“To the bitter end,” I affirmed, my promise to stand by her no matter what.“Why couldn't you be in love with me?” she sighed.“You are asking an eighteen-year-old how this love thing works?” I teased her. “I've been lucky enough to meet five women in the past two weeks I'd like to spend forever with, and I love the one I'm least likely to end up with. I'm clueless.”“Me, Iona, Barbie Lynn, Christina and Heaven?” Rio guessed. I nodded, which made her snicker. “You really want to spend forever with Heaven? You are a glutton for punishment.”“Heaven can be really nice,” I defended my girlfriend.“She's got a permanent case of PMS. Hell knows what would happen if she actually had PMS,” Rio teased me back.“So you don't want to spend any more time with her?” I inquired.“Fuck that,” Rio giggled, “I like them brave, bold, and saucy in the saddle. I'd love breaking her down, or having her break me trying.”“Fine,” I announced after a moment's contemplation.“Fine?” she asked.“I'm not going to break my word to Jill but I can't wait to fuck you until we get back to campus, so how would you like to screw on Pastor Bill's desk before Sunday school?” I suggested.“I'd love to leave a little something extra on that gold-plated conman's desk,” Rio purred.“Now, Zane, do you think you could bend the rules ever so slightly and finger-fuck me? I'm ever so horny,” Rio pleaded. I figured it couldn't hurt too much; right? I rubbed and rubbed one hand down to her crotch where Rio had already pulled her soaked panties down to mid-thigh. With my other hand, I pushed up her top, exposing her ripe nipples, chain and all.I plucked a nipple into my mouth, letting my tongue play along the stud before sucking in more of the breast, increasing the pressure on the nipple itself. Rio was well worked up already and now began to writhe beneath me. My free hand passed below her carefully groomed chevron-shaped pubic mound and along her clit.Her folds welcomed me like molten gold, so hot yet silky smooth to the touch. As she started to moan, Rio stuck the meat of her palm into her mouth and bit down in order to keep quiet. I spent a minute playing with her two studs in her labia before working two fingers deep inside her, twisting them, and seeking out her G-spot.“Gak!” Rio convulsed as I stroked it. Oh, yeah, I thought, as I began to seriously work it over. Rio's fluids were sloshing around my fingers, her other hand began pressing my whole mouth over her breast, and she kept bucking up against me. I now began to alternate between rhythmically tapping her special place and brutally finger fucking her, driving two fingers in and slapping her clit with my palm.“Uh, uh, uh, ugh, ugh, um,” Rio began panting, then her body arched and she screamed into her clenched fist. “Oh, fuck, that's good,” she finally managed to get out. Before I could respond, she grabbed my head and drew me up for a fierce kiss. She tore at my lips and tried to steal my breath away.“Tell me you want me,” she pleaded with a desperate hunger tinged with fear.“I want you, Rio, always,” I responded with my own heat and need. Slowly the passion ebbed from Rio's eyes and a playful demeanor replaced it.“You are such a dumb blonde, Glenda,” she sighed happily. Glenda had been the name that had allowed me admission to school in the first place, Glenn Zane Braxton, Glenda.I answered by pulling my fingers out of her cunt, taking a lick, then pushing them through her lips. Rio daintily sucked on them, pulling them in and cleaning them off before biting down like the little bitch she is and making tears come to my eyes.“What the fuck!” I hissed.“That's for not giving me your dick, Asshole,” she snickered. When I looked ready to explode, she pouted her lips, rolled onto her stomach and stuck her bare ass up in the air for a spanking. I grunted and rolled over onto my side, away from her.“Good night, you witch,” I sulked.There was some rustling behind me a minute later, then Rio snaked an arm around me and pressed her body to my back.“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I act crazy at times.” I rolled over to face her.“I know what I'm getting into, Rio,” I comforted her. “That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt at times.” I displayed my wounded fingers. She kissed my fingers, I kissed her lips, and we both finally went to sleep.Preacher William, Valerie, and the seeds of discord.*You can live without freedom the same way you can live without light, happiness, or music*Jill didn't know what to make of our prompt appearance Sunday morning for breakfast already dressed for church. I'd convinced Rio to not try a hard sell with my aunt, instead playing it calm, cool, and collected. The real reason we wanted to get to church early was because I'd come up with the idea of screwing Rio on Pastor Bill's massive mahogany desk before class and she'd become infatuated with the scheme.GAINING DEFINITIONWe had to remember our Bibles before eagerly heading out the door. Mine went back to my missionary days while Rio's was brand new, a gift from Jill. She'd lost her old one on the trip from Arizona to Virginia, or so she'd told Jill. In reality, she had torn hers apart page by page and stuffed it down the airplane toilet during the flight, her way of spreading the gospel.Once at the church, we split up, Rio and I getting together a few minutes later. I was unsure about the security cameras in the hallway but Rio shrugged it off. She followed the wires to the closet the system was kept in, picked the lock, and deleted the last two hours of footage before deactivating the whole system.I was clever enough to wipe off all our fingerprints before we made for the pastor's office. This time, Rio's improvised, lock picks weren't necessary as the secretary kept the door unlocked. We slipped past her station to the larger office beyond and I chased Rio around to the ‘big chair'.“So, Bad Boy, are you going to make me a Bad Girl?” Rio taunted me.I stepped up between her thighs and got ready to feast on her succulent cunt lips when she held me up.“I don't think we have time for that,” Rio grinned. She slipped out of her panties, which I quickly pocketed (having learned from the first Barbie Lynn incident), and hopped up on the desk facing me.I unbuckled my belt, fixed the button, and unzipped my pants. My penis came smoothly out of my boxers and I lined up with Rio's slit. Her juices were already flowing by the time my cockhead graced her full lips.“Oh, that's what I've been looking for,” Rio moaned, as I pushed forward inch after glorious inch inside her.She wrapped her arms around my neck and came close to doing the same with her legs around my waist by the time I was fully into her. I got a few half-thrusts into Rio, our faces only inches apart, when I began to push her back down on the desk.“No, I want to look into your eyes,” she told me. I nodded and started driving my cock in a strong steady rhythm.“Rio,” I said softly.“Yes,” she breathed heavily.“I like saying your name,” I explained. “I like the sound of it and the way it makes me feel.”“I, ” I was sure she was fighting for a snarky reply but then she smiled and said, “Okay.”“Oh. God, Oh, Fuck,” Rio gasped, as we began, getting her close to climax. I stopped when I first heard the voices. “What?” Rio panted. I pulled her off the desk and looked for a place to hide. There were three other doors out of the room. I took the closest, yanked up my pants, and dragged Rio to it.It turned out to be a large closet with vestments, coats, and a few changes of clothing inside. Before I could finish shutting the door, Rio put her hand in the way. Before I could inquire why, the main office door opened and in came Pastor Bill and Lance Wellington. They were yammering on about something or other; I really wasn't paying attention.All that changed after Pastor Bill took his seat behind the desk and swiveled it to the side. Lance came around the desk and knelt before our spiritual leader. His body blocked my visual but I heard a zipper being undone and some clothes being pushed aside. What Lance proceeded to do was clear enough, though.Rio was between me and the door; she looked over her shoulder and grinned evilly. Before long, she had my cock in her hand and was maneuvering it back to her pussy from behind. I moved my hips down, she arched up, and I slipped back into the hole I'd been in not a minute before. I stayed still while Rio began to ride my cock up and down.There we were, two very different couples separated by less than a dozen feet, both fucking in different ways. Lance was giving Pastor Bill oral attention in a manner that dictated long familiarity to not only cock-sucking, but blowing Pastor Bill in particular. Rio had one hand placed against the door sill in order to stop us from spilling out of the closet while the other was tucked against her stomach.The four of us were pushing toward climax but Pastor Bill was the first one to the trigger. I was still feeling the oily smoothness of my cock inside Rio's vagina while rubbing both breasts through her shirt and bra when Lance began chocking and sputtering. The bastard hadn't even warned Lance that he was cumming.Good ole Pastor Bill reached across the desk to grab two Kleenex. As he did so, his other hand came down to rest on a slick spot Rio and I had left on his desk. He looked at his hand with disgust and wiped it off his hand before handing a tissue to Lance.“Get going to class,” Pastor Bill told his cock-sucking companion.“Of course, Pastor William,” Lance responded as he cleaned his face. As he headed to the door, he turned to the preacher.“Do I have to do another marriage counseling session with Felicity? She is so damn annoying,” he whined.“Lance, you are going to have to keep up appearances and that means spending the occasional night with her,” Pastor Bill lectured him. “As distasteful as she is, she is the socially acceptable choice for your spouse if you plan to have a political career.”“I wish this whole marriage thing was over with already,” Lance sighed. “Then I could stick her in the house and get her out of my life.”“Remember, a woman is a duty, but you know how to get your pleasure. Take your pill when you have to lay with her, and if nothing else, use her back door,” he chuckled.“I suppose so,” Lance conceded, “but I'll have to shut her up. She blathers on and on incessantly and her voice is so grating.”“Well,” Pastor Bill laughed, “you can always use her mouth too.” Lance snorted and left the room; Bill followed a minute later.For our part, the whole exchange between Pastor Bill and Lance got Rio hotter and hotter. She was rocketing back against me until I was afraid the slapping of our flesh would alert our host to our presence.Once he was gone, Rio went off.“Fuck me, damn it,” Rio exulted. “I'm going to rape their asses.” I wasn't sure how that would work. It wasn't like Rio's or my word would go all that far. I decided to spin her back around and kick her leg up over my arm so I could fuck her while gazing into her eyes.The first thing I noticed was the sheer joy etched all over her face. The second thing I noted was her phone in hand, set on record. There was going to be some severe damage over this and I had to do damage control, but first I had to screw Rio to orgasm.“Ah, ah, ah,” Rio moaned. “You are churning me up inside, you fucking brute. This is so fucking good.”“And the video?” I inquired.“Fucking brilliant,” she panted, “My best idea yet.” I drilled Rio several more strong strokes and she gripped me tightly and sexually exploded on me. She kept squeezing my cock with her vaginal muscles as I came in her as she was still cresting her wave.“Oh, Zane,” she wept tears of joy on my shoulder, “You make all this other shit bearable.”“No problem, bro,” I sighed happily, “but we need to talk about the video.”“Yeah,” she snorted, “you have a plan. I'm going to bypass me having a temper-tantrum and get straight to you making me happy with how clever you are.”“We find more ways to bring Felicity over to our side, then hit her with this when she's wavering,” I detailed. “We still need credibility and that's going to take Barbie Lynn on our side. Once we get Felicity, we can get Mrs. Wellington too. That gives us access to everyone in the church.”I set Rio onto her feet and handed her panties too her. Rio shimmied into them and grinned.“Now I'm all sloshy inside. Is that thing a damn fire hydrant?”“You weren't complaining a minute ago,” I countered.“I'm not complaining, but all those bitches in class are going to know I've been fucked,” she snickered.“Who are you going to blame?” I wondered.“Pastor William, our glorious shepherd; I can describe just what his cock looks like now,” she grinned manically.“I think we are back to that whole 'credibility' issue,” I reminded her.“You aren't going to let me have any fun,” Rio pouted.“Well, work on this; I'm pretty sure Lance isn't the only guy here that the pastor is using. Lance was a tool, nothing more,” I told her. “It could be fun to find out who his other toys are.”“I hate you for having a better idea than me,” Rio giggled, “but I love your deviant mind more.”“I love you too, Baby,” I said as I brushed her cheek. “Let's get to class before they get to ridicule us for arriving late.” Rio grabbed my hand and sprinted with me out of the office. We were late to class but only just. This time I'd studied so Mr. Coleman wasn't able to humiliate me, though some wise-ass taunted me about being on a women's committee.“Yes, I do,” I confirmed, “and what committee are you on?”“Athletics committee,” he sneered. I gave him a shit-eating grin right back that gave him pause.“So I hang out with a bunch of MILF's, which is a pretty red-blooded American male thing to do, while you hang out with a bunch of guys, which is pretty homo-erotic,” I chuckled.There was a deafening silence in the room. We had broken up for church service and a few guys were almost out the door. The target of my aggression was first stunned, then angry.“Mr. Braxton, that is quite enough out of you,” Mr. Coleman snapped.“I'm sorry about that, Mr. Coleman. I thought he was ribbing me about my committee so I teased him back about his; I wasn't serious,” I lied.Andy, the guy who'd given me a hard time, elected that moment to get in my face.“That wasn't funny, Braxton,” he snapped. Mr. Coleman remained conspicuously silent.“Gosh, Andy,” I quipped, “I don't know where to begin. How about, we are in a House of God and shouldn't be raising a fist against one another.”“If that doesn't work, do understand that you get the first punch, then I break you like a twig,” I continued with eagerness written all over my face. “You are an elementary school teacher and I have years of martial arts experience.” Andy suddenly paled.“Mr. Braxton,” Coleman growled again. “How dare you threaten somebody?”“Um, Mr. Coleman, Andy got in my face, so what exactly are you getting on my case about? Wouldn't the situation be better served if you stopped him in the first place?” I said.“Andy should be able to take a joke better,” another guy in my class, Christopher Gilbert, joined in. “Besides, Zane's right; the wives on the committee are attractive and their husbands are lucky men.”That seemed to end the matter because Chris Gilbert was the son of somebody and carried weight in this crowd. We continued to depart but I felt obliged to stop Chris.“Thanks, but I'm not sure why you just backed me up there,” I questioned.“Maybe you're not such a bad guy,” he grinned.I had to think that over. I barely knew Christopher Gilbert. He was 23, son of a big real estate guy, he was a property manager, whatever that was.“I have to appreciate the timing of your epiphany,” I joked.“It came to me late Thursday night when I had a security issue at one of my properties,” he grinned. Oh, crap. His daddy must own the mall where I had that little altercation.“Sorry if I cost you a good night's sleep,” was all I could say.“Let me say that, 'damn, you're fast,' and it would have been mean of me to let Andy get his ass handed to him in front of all his friends,” Chris related. “He's really not a bad guy either.”“I'll keep that in mind,” I nodded.We were making our way to the church hall when Rio, Iona, and Barbie Lynn intercepted us.“Hey, Ms. Masters,” Chris said to Barbie Lynn. He looked at the other two girls.“Christopher Gilbert, this is Rio Talon and Iona Becket, two of my classmates and closest friends,” I introduced my buddies.“So, Chris, how do you know Barbie-licious?” Rio smirked.“Huh?” Chris said.“Rio has an intense sense of humor, Chris,” I intervened. “Pay her no mind.” Before Rio cold make things worse, I placed an arm behind her and pinched her butt. “Behave,” I warned her.“Okay, Zane,” Chris chuckled. “Good luck with that one. To answer your question: I know Ms. Masters from a few years back at a youth retreat. We were both counselors. Take care now.” He turned and walked off to his section of the tabernacle while the girls and I went off to ours.“So, Barbie, were you hot for Chris back at camp?” Rio persisted.“Chris? Nah, he had a girlfriend back then; they both went to the University of Virginia. I think they broke up right before they graduated but I'm not sure,” Barbie Lynn informed us. “Besides, I had a fiancé too.”“Had? Have you tossed him over for Zane?” Rio teased. I sighed and Barbie Lynn blushed.“Nah, Shugah, I tossed him over for you,” Barbie Lynn whispered into Rio's ear.“Just for that tantalizing tease, no Honey Glaze for those hot crossed buns of yours,” Rio bantered right back.“Am I the only one who remembers we are in a church?” lectured Iona.“No, you are not,” Christina surprised us. “Now stop trying to make a scene and sit down with the rest of us.” We dutifully obeyed because three of us respected Christina and I had one of Rio's arms twisted behind her back.At the end of service there was no problem getting the gang to go down to the space between the pews and the podium where the important people gathered. I caught Pastor William shooting me a hooded look but I blew him off. I was here for someone else, as was Barbie Lynn and Rio. Iona was tagging along to make sure we kept out of too much trouble.“Hey, Sahara,” I greeted the pastor's wife, who hovered near but wasn't part of the action.“Why, hello, Zane,” she smiled. “Did you enjoy the service?”“I'm still a little fuzzy on the message of seeking wisdom in God's word instead of Man's technology,” I grinned. “After all, I have an app that gives me helpful Bible verses on demand.”“I think you missed the point, Zane,” she shook her head with mirth. “We need to trust the Word of God over the simple technological solutions that fail to take in the moral implications of the results.”“Wow, when you say it that way, it makes sense,” I applauded. Sahara blushed and gave me another smile.Rio and Barbie Lynn had closed in on Felicity, allowing Iona and I to come up behind Mrs. Wellington. I put my hand on the small of her back and positioned myself at her side.“Hello, Mrs. Wellington,” I greeted her. I knew her first look at me would define a lot about how she felt about last night.“Zane,” she beamed at me. “How are you doing today?”“Better now,” I grinned. “I just wanted to say that I'm downloading those files we discussed when I get to campus this afternoon.”“Oh,” Mrs. Bainbridge sneered, “is Mr. Braxton working on a special project already?”“Zane,” Rochelle Wellington smiled to her rival sweetly, “send Kendra a copy of the notes you showed me. Kendra, Zane has a talent for 3-D imagery that the committee will find quite useful. I thought you might find it nice to have our newest member showing some interest.”“Oh, it is his interest that I'm worried about,” Kendra commented, with a pretty obvious look toward Sahara.Before I could respond to that jab, I felt a hand on my shoulder trying to pull me around.“Pastor William wants a word with you,” Lance informed me.“Okay,” I shrugged, then turned back to Kendra. “Mrs. Bainbridge, I admit that it is my fault that I find Mrs. Penny to be kinder, more compassionate, and more spiritually understanding than you. She is a gentle soul who better relates to what a young man needs.”“Pastor William wants to see you now,” Lance insisted.“That's nice, Lance. I'm talking to your mother,” I said dismissively. “Rochelle, thank you for agreeing to mentor me; I appreciate you helping me understand this Church and this community by taking some of your valuable time to listen to my ideas.”“Ladies, have a nice Sunday. Okay, Lance, let's go see what Pastor Bill wants now,” I told him.“His name is Pastor William,” Lance corrected me somewhat angrily.“No, his name is William Penny and he happens to be a pastor,” I jibed. Lance's response was stymied by our arrival at Pastor Bill's circle of cronies.“Ah, Glenn,” Bill greeted me. “I would like to invite you to dine with my wife and I tomorrow night.” I was smart enough to know that wasn't really an invitation, but still,“I'd like to but this week is our first round of testing for the semester so I'm not sure I can break free,” I answered.“You find time enough for other things, like jail,” he lectured me in a personally degrading matter.“Pastor William, as you will learn about me, people who cross me or threaten the ones I hold dear, I beat bloody and leave broken on the ground,” I smiled evilly right back. The confusion that threat caused was evident because I hadn't been quiet.“Jesus loves the Peacemaker,” Pastor Bill bantered back.“Winners write the history books,” I countered.“That is not very Christian of you,” Mr. Wellington, the Mayor, pointed out.“Jesus Christ ended up nailed to a cross; Emperor Constantine, who converted the whole Roman Empire to Christ's worship, got to build his own city,” I responded.“I won't be as famous but I'll do more and get to bury my enemies before I die,” I added.“Are you sure you were a missionary in Thailand?” another church elder asked.“Oh, I was a missionary all right, but not a very good one. I left the hard work to my Uncle Tim and Aunt Jill,” I informed them.“Did they convert many heathen souls to the World of our Lord?” a third man inquired.“It is not that simple. They taught people to read English and got them in the practice of reading the Bible,” I explained. “They have over a thousand years of culture to work against and many of the tenants of Buddhism are close to our own Christian virtues so it is hard work.”“So that would be a 'No',” Pastor Bill gloated.“Really?” I grinned. “When Uncle Tim went missing, 200 of his flock risked floodwaters in an eventually futile effort to save him. How many of us would risk drowning to save you, Pastor William? I would say that when lives were on the line, his flock did their Christian duty.”I noticed Jill standing on the edge of the group listening, her eyes close to tears. Hey, I hated Tim, but I wasn't going to let these spineless bastards degrade the man in front of his widow, no matter how I felt.“I'm sure we would all rise to the challenge,” Mr. Wellington pontificated.“Then you are as good a man as Uncle Tim,” I trapped him with his own words.“Your Uncle Tim gave everything, including his life,” Pastor Bill said with a smug, superior smile. “His willingness to give should be an example for all.”“I'm already giving. The Festivities Committee's budget seems a bit anemic so I'm going to be funding some of their efforts,” I enlightened him.“That is not how tithes are normally handled,” Pastor Bill corrected me.“I'm not a normal guy,” I grinned. “Pastor, I'll look over my schedule and call your house to let you know if I can swing dinner tomorrow. It has been a wonderful chat but I have to be going now.”I turned and left them there, confident I hadn't made any friends among Bill's inner circle. The price of their friendship was way more than I was willing to pay and it wasn't just monetary. My girls swarmed around me, even Jill.“Thank you, Zane,” Jill said softly. “Tim would have been proud.”“Jill, I said that for you, not him. You stood by him and that shouldn't be trampled on by people who don't know any better,” I comforted her.“I was getting ready to cry out 'Blood and Souls for my Lord Arioch,” Rio grinned.“Why did you antagonize them?” Iona wondered.“They are used to bullying people and getting their way. I let them know I was more than willing to fight,” I told Iona.“He also wanted the women to see what he was doing,” Barbie Lynn said. “I saw a few females, Felicity included, who thought a great deal of how Zane handled the situation.”“Girls love watching men fight over them,” Rio laughed as we exited into the parking lot.“Is everyone coming to our place for lunch?” Jill asked. I took a quick look around the girls who nodded their approval.“Sure thing, Jill; we will be at home in an hour,” I answered.Getting back to campus and into casual clothes wasn't a problem, nor was lunch with Jill. We sat around and shot the shit for an hour afterwards but school work demanded that we head back to school to do some actual classwork. I went by Raven's to pick her up because she'd left me a text (by way of Iona) that she'd made some progress over the weekend.“We really should study in the library,” Raven told me as we headed to my room.“The last time I checked, the library didn't have a snack bar,” I told her. Raven was less than convinced and a bit nervous until we opened the door to the bottom of the steps leading to the Solarium where I lived and the voices of multiple girls welcomed us.“You have company?” she questioned me.“All freshmen are welcome in my room, Raven. You'll see,” I informed her.“Is there going to be anyplace for us to study, ” Raven began to confound me, then we came to the point where you could see past the side of the stairs into the Solarium.“Oh, God,” she muttered at the scope of the room, “you, you have pool tables!” she ended up in a near squeal. “I love pool!” She took a few steps forward into the room before looking back at me. “What is all this? Where did this all come from?”“I was given the entire Solarium as my room, sort of, and I decided to convert most of it to a common area for the freshman class,” I said.“How long has this been going on?” she wondered.“We did it yesterday,” Iona said from the closest sofa. She put down her laptop and walked over to us. “Zane paid for the stuff and we students put it in. Let me show you around.”“You do that, Iona,” I told her, as I gave my diminutive friend a hug, “I'll be in my room.”Iona led Raven deeper into the complex of entertainment while I headed to my room, which seemed to be the quietest place to study today.ValerieI passed around the Chinese silk screens that shielded my private area from the rest of the Solarium and saw my new monster-sized bed. I also saw the tall, honey-blonde Amazon reclining on it, looking my way.“Come here, my Love-Monkey,” she said in a deep, husky voice. I'm sure my mouth gaped open.“Ah, I don't believe we've been introduced,” I managed to finally say. She smiled and patted the bed beside her.“You are seriously hot and I'm positive I'd remember you if we'd met, but I don't and I do need to study so I'm going to ask you to please leave,” I groaned. “Trust me, I really don't want to be asking you that either.”I heard laughter from the far side of the bed and Rio slowly raised her body into sight.“Bro, the look on your face is priceless,” she chuckled.“So this is really your room?” the other girl inquired.“I told you it was,” Rio grinned.“Yes, it is,” I responded as well. “In fact, this entire floor is mine, mainly because the Administration has nowhere else to stick me.”“Rio, what's going on here?” I turned to my other friend.“Honest, Boss,” she beamed, “I found her when I got home. She's my new dorm mate, your replacement.”“You were her first roommate?” the newcomer asked.“For all of one night,” I confessed. “Then everyone realized she had boobies, and I didn't, and I developed this current life of seclusion.”“This is your version of seclusion?” she questioned.“What can I say?” I sighed. “I'm a man of creature comforts. That still doesn't explain you on my bed. Rio?”“She is Valerie Palmer, a new addition to the school,” Rio started, “but that's not the cool part. She's a member of the Stormriders motorcycle gang.” Seeing my lack of name recognition, Rio added, “They are a big deal in the West, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona, of course.”“Nice to meet you, Valerie.” I knelt on the bed and extended my hand. “I'm Glenn Zane Braxton, but everyone calls me Zane. Welcome to FFU, and what brought you to us?”“Dad is a born-again Christian and he wanted me to come here, so here I am,” she shrugged. Now, to me that made no sense, as she should have been eighteen, thus her own person, but who was I to press into her personal matters.“Damn it, Zane, I keep forgetting you were living in a cave for the past two years,” Rio shook her head. “Her grandfather is Daniel 'Damien' Palmer.” Again, I didn't know who that person was.“My grandfather is doing three life sentences,” Valerie said with a degree of weariness.“Fine. I should take it the Stormriders are not a motorcycle club, then,” I grinned at her.Valerie's eyes and mine locked for several seconds.“Are you arrogant, stupid, or really unconcerned?” Valerie asked me.“A little of all three,” Rio chimed in.“You should never ask a man if he's arrogant because if he is, he won't know it,” I responded.“I'm smart enough to get into this university, but them I'm dumb enough to be the only guy at this university,” I continued. “I can honestly tell you I really don't care who you were before you came here. It is none of my damn business. If you want to be friends, I'm game.” Valerie nodded. “Oh, and Rio is a nutjob, but if you hurt her, I'll make you suffer, I swear it.”“Is that supposed to scare me, rich boy?” Valerie said, becoming very serious and sitting up, “because I'm not impressed.”“I didn't say it to impress you, Valerie,” I met her gaze, “I believe in fair warning. I don't care if you are damaged goods or you are one stone-cold, bad-ass bitch; you mess with Rio and I'll take her pain out of your hide.”“Rio, I thought you told me this guy was cool,” Valerie said to Rio while still looking at me.“Best guy in the whole God-damn world,” Rio beamed.“Zane, have you ever stabbed somebody?” Valerie quizzed me.“On purpose or by accident?” I asked.“How do you stab someone by accident?” Valerie wondered.“You toss their ass into a stand of bamboo so hard the stalks break and they get impaled,” I answered. “I take it you've done it on purpose.” She shrugged.“Do you fight much?” she changed tact.“More than I should,” I replied, “but I butt in where I don't belong too much.”“Me too,” Valerie nodded, “on the 'I fight more than I should' thing.”“Well, I would rather talk shit upfront than spill blood later,” I pointed out.“Like warning me about Rio,” she nodded.“Please believe me, she's a nut and will get on your nerves, so please don't toss her out a window or down the stairs because I'm actually attached to her,” I grinned. Rio flopped on the bed.“I should be mouthing empty denials but Zane's pretty much right,” Rio snickered, “and if he hadn't fucked me silly on the preacher's desk this morning, I'd be in his face about this bullshit.”“You had sex on your preacher's desk?” Valerie smiled.“Zane, what are these girls, what the hell?” Raven went off. “What kind of bedroom is this?”“Raven, you know Rio and this is her new roommate Valerie. Valerie, this is Raven,” I groaned.“Hey, Raven,” Valerie greeted her. “So do you normally walk into Zane's bedroom too?”“No,” Raven blushed. “He invited me over to do some work on our English project.” Iona stepped in behind Raven and waved to Rio.“Iona, Valerie; Valerie, Iona,” I sighed.“Wait!” Valerie raised her hand and looked back to me. “Are you gay? Because I see a lot of girls strolling into your room and none of them have been identified as your girlfriend yet.”“Technically, that would be Heaven,” Iona volunteered. “She's a senior.”“Can we get back to everyone being in Zane's room?” Raven grumbled. “And what is he doing with a bed as big as my entire room back home?” Valerie appraised the room.“Got it,” she laughed. “You are sleeping with her (Iona) and her (Rio), but not you (Raven).”“Of course I'm not sleeping with him,” Raven shot back. “I took a Purity Pledge, as should all of you.”“I'm not a virgin,” Valerie responded.“Me, either,” Rio waved.“I am,” Iona raised her hand.“That's nice,” I directed. “Rio, Valerie, and Iona, please leave. I've invited Raven to my room so we can do actual classwork because I occasionally like to pretend I'm in college for an education.”“On it, Zane,” Rio snickered. “Come on, Valerie, let's go check out the hot tub. I wanted to show you to Zane so he could put you on his 'To Do' list.” Iona shook her head and left.“I've got a boyfriend,” Valerie clarified.“Thank God,” I muttered, which drew looks from all three women. After Rio and Val left, Raven kept staring at me.“I, does this happen to you often?” she finally asked.“Yes, but I've learned to adjust,” I pointed out.We sat down on the bed, Raven pulled out four library books on the period we were looking into, and we began going through them and taking notes.“Is Heaven really your girlfriend?” Raven asked after a while.“Yes, but it is more complicated than that. I love another girl but I don't know if she loves me, and I spend time with a dozen other girls here, plus I have friends at a Sorority House off campus,” I explained.“And you sleep with Rio, who isn't a virgin, and Iona, who is,” she stated, and I confirmed with a nod.“I was wrong. If you can keep all that straight in your head, you have a good grasp of details. We are going to do fine on this term paper.”“Thank you, Raven,” I smiled at her, and for a change, she smiled back.GUST FRONTI would have liked to spend the night with Iona and Barbie Lynn but Iona informed me that Coach Dana Gorman had tested her security code earlier in the day and I figured something was up; nothing good for me and my friends. Sure enough, at 12:10 in the morning, my little buzzer by the bed that informed me that a key code was being entered woke me up.I silenced the alarm (no sense in letting them know that I had it) and waited in bed. Shortly thereafter, the Coach and two female security guards came strolling in.“Alone?” Dana quipped.“You asking me out?” I grinned.“Get up; we need to check the bed, if that is what you call this thing,” she motioned to my sleeping platform. I dutifully got out of bed.“What are you doing?” she snapped when she realized I was naked.“Getting out of bed like you asked me to. I sleep in the nude, or didn't you already know that?” I yawned.“Put some clothes on,” she ordered. I picked up my robe and put it on while they stripped back my sheets and looked for bodily fluids under the dark light. I had been at my Aunt's the past two nights, so yes, my bed was still fresh. Unsatisfied, Dana and her two buddies began roughly going over my place.When they finally discovered nothing (my hiding places were specifically designed), the two officers turned and left.“I'll be keeping an eye on you, Zane. You can expect this to be a regular occurrence,” she promised. I simply stared. We remained looking at one another for a minute because she knew I was up to something.“That's right, step out of line and make my job easier,” she noted. Again I kept my silence. It would have been easy to take this personally but I'd told her this was War and I took that seriously. I doubted I was the sole beneficiary of their attention so I had to get ready to respond to their next move.“Nothing to say?” she asked. I kept staring. “Say something, damn it,” she growled.“Good night, Coach,” I obliged. She shook her head, turned, and walked away. When I saw the door close behind her I went back to my room and took out my phone. I made three calls to the concerned parties and a final call to Iona, to have her wipe my call log. I can't say I slept well that night.Showering in the morning was troublesome enough on normal days but this morning, Rio decided to invite Valerie to join us. I did my best to pretend to ignore her, which wasn't easy. Valerie was around six feet with milky skin where the sun didn't reach and tanned where it did. Her hair was golden-blonde and she was trimmed, not shaved. Her eyes were grey with a hint of blue around the edges; he breasts were a solid C without a hint of sag. There sure were a lot of blondes going to this school.I could see the mental calculations going through her head as she walked in and the other girls eyed her. In the hierarchy of this place, I didn't hold a place; proximity to me showed a girl's status among the crowd. Opal was top dog, but Rio and Iona were marked by their close relationship with me as well.Valerie clearly thought about walking away from it all to spare herself the drama and the grief. She countered that with the knowledge that she had to fit in somewhere in this school, and as non-traditional as she was, her best bet was with us. She answered that internal struggle by taking the shower one down from me, next to Opal.Opal expressed her dominance to Valerie by corralling me into a body massage and a show of mutual affection. I thought Valerie was unimpressed with those actions but as we got into it, I sensed she was intrigued by the notion of having sex without actually having sex, and the sexual arousal that came with it.As I settled in front of the sink to brush my hair, shave, and brush my teeth, Valerie took the sink beside me.“You don't seem to mind all these naked bodies around you,” she noted.“Why should I? I enjoy them and they enjoy me. I like making them happy, and my presence certainly makes their lives more difficult so I'm glad to help,” I explained.“So, do things ever go to the next level?” Valerie asked.“Not here, and not with most of these women; they are virgins and happy about that fact. They want to be virgins on their wedding nights and I respect that,” I answered.“Rio makes you out to be some sort of sex-crazed stud monster,” Val informed me.“Rio's not a virgin and her only plans for marriage involve her being a black widow to her old, rich husbands,” I grinned.“Is she, bi-sexual?” Valerie whispered.“Yes, I can verify that she is,” I replied quietly. “Has she hit on you yet? Wait, silly question, have you thrown her out of your bed yet?”“This morning I found her sucking on my nipple through my nightshirt,” she smirked.“Rio needs constant reminding of where the boundaries are,” I informed Val.“You two talking about me?” Rio came bouncing up. “Is there a three-way in our future? Who gets tied up?” Valerie groaned in response.“Rio, there is such a thing as personal space and acceptable roommate behavior,” I told Rio. “Things like spontaneously feeling her up while she sleeps are BAD!”“God, damn it!” Rio squalled, “But did you see the size of those bad boys? They are huge and puffy and I swear, they were calling out to me across the room.”“In my long and illustrious career with the female nipple, they have never talked to me. If you don't behave, I'm going to have to tie you up at the next orgy and make you watch,” I warned. I couldn't threaten to take away something she had, like her piercings; that would make her dig in her heels. Instead, I went after the things she was looking forward to.“Don't forget to secure her hands over her head so she can't diddle herself,” Valerie got into the sport of things.“Good point,” I agreed.“Major buzz-kill, you two. Valerie, you are trying to make your first day here no fun at all,” Rio teased.“Which reminds me; Valerie, has Rio warned you about Handmaiden's Duty?” I inquired. Rio looked offended that I would say such a thing while Val looked confused.“It is a tradition here that requires all freshmen to perform a task of a non-damaging nature for any and all upperclassmen. They cannot grab you in class or a dorm room, but anywhere else is fair game,” I informed her.“My first task was to be a bench for someone to sit on,” Rio grinned.“Mine was to kiss a girl,” I nodded.“Kiss her? Cordelia damn near passed out, you kissed her so long and deep,” Rio teased me.“The first one was very nice and chaste,” Iona stepped up and added. “It was the second one that curled her toes and started the stampeded on Zane.”“What do I do if a girl asks me to kiss her?” Valerie worried.“Tell her you are waiting for your herpes to clear up,” Rio volunteered.“It isn't likely to happen,” Iona came across with sounder advice. “Homosexuality is frowned on at this campus.”“I'd tell you to kiss them and enjoy the moment, but I'm a guy,” I shrugged.“I'm still not sure what is normal for this place,” Valerie related.“Rio and Zane are aberrations,” Iona offered. “Most of the girls here are fundamentalist Christian virgins who are looking to get married once they graduate this place.”“What is your story?” Val asked Iona.“I was pretty much the girl I just described until I met these two,” she smiled. “Now I feel that I have, options.”“Options like prison time,” Rio laughed, “or becoming a sex toy at an S&M club.”“I was thinking more like taking a summer and roaming the country,” Iona glared Rio.“Maybe I could teach you to ride a motorcycle and you can come with me,” Valerie offered.“That would be wonderful!” Iona brightened up. “When could we start?”“This afternoon, if you like,” Val responded. “My ride is in the parking lot.”“You have a motorcycle, here?” Rio exclaimed.“Rio, it is hard to be in a motorcycle gang without a chopper,” Valerie pointed out.“On that note, I have to go,” I sighed. New girls were starting to migrate in, meaning I had to retreat to my room. “Take care, everyone.”The crapstormThe crapstorm fell on us as we left the dorm. All kinds of upperclassmen snatched up freshmen as they appeared and shadowed Pro-Christina students they couldn't grab. Rio and I were able to shove off of Valerie before she was identified as being with one of us, so she made it to the Dining Hall unmolested.I didn't have to do anything too heinous, carry three backpacks while reciting the Gospel of Luke from memory (ugh). They made Rio sing 'Onward Christian Soldier' because it was the only religious song she'd admit to knowing. She did a horrific hack-job of it too. They had Iona going through the descendants of Noah; she knocked them back flawlessly, Brainiac.It got better at the Dining Hall door where Rhaine oversaw the removal of every electronic device from the incoming students, no phones, tablets or laptops, nothing capable of rapid communication. Then came the assigned seating designed to break us all up. Surprisingly, Valerie looped back around and joined us in the line.She leaned into me.“What the fuck is going on?” she whispered.“There is a war going on between the Pro-Christina faction Rio, Iona and I belong to, and the Pro-Rhaine faction, which is supported by the Administration. I didn't want to get you involved,” I explained as I saw Mrs. Marlowe closing in.“Mr. Braxton, be quiet,” she snapped.“Of course, Ms. Marlowe,” I nodded to her; she glared back. We had assigned seating for breakfast, isolating us. Conversations were kept to a minimum by roving teachers and the mood was getting grim, made worse by a slow drizzle that began to fall outside. Still, things weren't hopeless.As I was putting my food tray away, Paige of the Science Club slipped past me.“Copper Seven,” she whispered.Cordelia, head of the Science Club, was definitely the smartest person on campus. She'd created a list of contingency plans for us to use if things went bad. We should have been getting them on our phones but the Chancellor had stymied us there.Instead, things were circulating by word of mouth. In this case, Copper Seven, things were simple. Copper meant theft and Seven was the code for communications. We were stealing the facility's phones, crashing their computers, and doing whatever mischief we could to make communications difficult, if not impossible.I had the pleasure of passing the word on to Rio, who gave me a look that would have made any brigand with a handful of gold proud. I didn't know the specifics of Rio's criminal history but I knew she definitely had one, and I'd have been stunned if pickpocket and shoplifting weren't part of her repertoire. I'd warned Coach Gorman about making shit like this fascist suppression policy up.I barely recalled what I was forced to perform on the way to Assembly because what happened there was so memorable. We got the standard lecture, then the Chancellor laid into Christina for all the disruptions the student body was going through, Christina and a few other malcontents. What made it memorable was, at the end of Dr. Bass's speech, a freshman I barely knew, Millicent Pierce, stood up and raised her fist in defiance.“That's bullshit!” she cried out.“Sit down and be quiet, child!” the Chancellor commanded. “Coach Gorman,” she then directed our head of security toward the young girl. Millicent wasn't done yet.“You are lying to us!” she screamed out again.As Gorman and a second teacher made their way to our young rebel, Rio stood up with a raised fist.“Shame!” Rio called out. A dozen of us followed suit. Teachers flooded off the stage but Cappadocia figured out that if you joined up with other girls and linked arms, they couldn't drag you out.Girls were screaming at girls, shoving began, and soon blows were being exchanged and Assembly degenerated to a nasty furball. We were threatened with demerits, detention, and finally expulsion, but nothing seemed to curtail the conflict. I saw Ms. Goodswell leave the melee and go to the base of the podium and begin to plead with Bass about something.I could see that Goodswell was trying to get the Chancellor to let Christina come onto the stage and quiet her followers but our Glorious Leader wouldn't budge. Christina could see the gestures and I knew she was about to end things anyway. There was something I had to do before things fell apart.I leapt up and began using the backs and arm rests to jump across the crowd. I made it to Millicent right ahead of Gorman. Millicent seemed stunned to see me hovering over her but it was too noisy to communicate. I pulled her up and retreated back the way I'd come, keeping her out of Gorman's clutches for the moment.“Thanks,” she grinned at me.“Who is your Spiritual Advisor?” I responded. “We need to get you to her so you don't face the Chancellor alone.”“Ms. Trenton,” Millicent responded.Ms. Trenton wasn't one of the 'good guys' but she wasn't on our enemies list either. I located Trenton and angled us toward her.“This is crazy,” Millicent gasped. After all, if we tumbled, we might very well break our necks. Ms. Trenton didn't look happy to see either one of us but she immediately clued into why I was dropping her student off on her. She grabbed Millicent by the arm and led her away. This was a good thing because our rebellion was about spent for the moment.A minute later we had quieted down. Dr. Bass threatened us with a whole new series of punishments before exiling us off to our first classes. I had the joy of gettin

It's not enough to say, "I don't agree."

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Preacher William, Valerie, & the seeds of discord. (Part 11)- A Spring Break 13-part Novel.Christina's late night visit.By FinalStand. The player above contains the intro section. Listen to the complete episode by clicking here, at Steamy Stories. Anyway, we were uncoiling from the sofa and Rio was giving me this mysterious look when there was a knock at the door.“Dude, it is 11 o'clock,” Rio muttered. “Only bad news arrives this late.”“I'll go check it out,” I shrugged. There wasn't much else I could do. I opened the door and there stood Christina, looking pretty depressed.“Do you want to come in?” I asked.“I know you have company,” she replied. “Can we talk outside?” It wasn't too chilly but I wasn't wearing too much either.“Of course,” I walked onto the porch, leaving the door mostly closed behind me. “What's wrong?”“I've worked things out with Faith and the other girls,” Christina paced nervously. “We are all going to keep quiet about what you learned and see how we can turn this to our advantage.” I didn't say anything because she hadn't come to tell me the news of what had been the obvious move on her part so I was left wondering what was going on, then I saw it.I opened my arms to the side, palms forward, and waited. She saw the move and looked me over with obvious reluctance for what would come next. Finally, she stepped up to me and rested her forehead on my shoulder and let me encase her in my arms. It sucks to be alone, but it truly sucks being alone and being the one in charge even more.“God, Zane, I fucked up. I could have ruined Heaven's life,” she sighed. “The others trusted me and I let them down.”“You are not doing Heaven any favors by being paralyzed with doubt,” I told her. “You had no idea who you were up against and even if you had, you would still have weighed what was best for Heaven against the risks and pretty much acted in the same manner.”“You don't understand Heaven,” Christina said. “You don't understand her home life.”“Her home life is not my concern, Christina,” I pointed out. “The Heaven here and now is my concern, though, and it is the concern of several more friends she's made since coming to this school, friends she wouldn't have if she stayed in a hole.”“What if I fuck up again?” she worried. “So many girls are depending on me to keep the Chancellor at bay.”“I fuck up all the time and I'm still here,” I countered. “I know what you mean, though. Sometimes when these girls look at me like they expect me to have all the answers and I've got nothing, I want to run and hide.”“We don't have that luxury. We chose to stand up and now we must carry on in our struggle. I don't know about you, but I wasn't raised to quit,” I related to her.“I made a mistake, Zane. I don't make mistakes,” she declared.“I'm confused; have we lost?” I questioned her.“No,” she grumbled, “and that is not what I meant. I brought Faith in, I misread her, and we all suffered because of it. I was deceived.”“Well, someone should remind Christina Buchanan from time to time that she's human, and a pretty smart woman at that,” I replied. “You don't have to win every battle, only the last one.”“That is what my grandfather said,” she mumbled into my shoulder.“He sounds like a clever guy,” I said softly. “He should go far someday.” Since he was one of the richest men in America, I was probably right.“You can be a real jerk at times,” she muttered, but I noted she wasn't moving.“I have to agree with you,” I said, as I got up on my tiptoes and kissed her on the top of the head. I leaned back and tilted her head to me with a finger under her chin. “Christina Buchanan, would you marry me?” No one said anything for a minute.“Can I think about it?” she finally whispered.“Of course,” I assured her. “How could I be in love with you if I couldn't wait for you?”“How can you love me when you don't even know me?” she asked.“That's why it is love and not like,” I answered. “There are times you really piss me off but there is never a moment I don't want to be with you.”“You don't like me?” Christina studied me.“Right now I like you just fine, but you can be a real pain at times. See, I know what's right and you refuse to know your place,” I responded.“And what place is that?” she smiled.“Above me, smiling down,” I leaned in for a kiss.“No,” she shook her head.“No?” I pleaded.“We have a long way to go before I let you treat me like another one of your girls,” Christina informed me.“Okay,” I agreed.“No hard sell in my emotionally vulnerable state?” she mused.“You are safe with me, Christina,” I assured her.“That's good to know, Zane. Now go inside before Rio blows a gasket,” she smiled, slipped out of my arms, and walked toward her car. I still soaked up the marvel of her receding silhouette.Rio was leaning against the wall just inside the hallway when I got back in.“I don't get the two of you,” she grinned.“I love her,” was my only response.“That's good, because she's fucking nuts about you,” Rio laughed. I couldn't decide whether she was kidding or not.Later, we lay together in bed, Rio partially over me where she alternated between listening to my heartbeat and kissing my shoulder. She also had a hand between her legs and was doing some serious vaginal stimulation.“Zane.”“Yes?” I replied.“I had an abortion,” she confided in me.“Oh, okay,” was all I could manage to come back with.“‘Oh.' Is that it?” she sounded a bit hurt.“I figure there is more to the story than you had an abortion. So are you going to tell me what it is?” I inquired. She mulled that over for a few seconds.“I did some really stupid shit, like getting shit-faced drunk at some parties with people I barely knew, and pretty much got used like a whore. I didn't really care, and eventually I got knocked up,” she told me.“My parents, the big Pro-Lifers that they were, smuggled me out of state to a private clinic and aborted the kid. They never asked my opinion on the matter but I imagine that having a pregnant daughter who couldn't even name the father wasn't on their agenda,” she recited bitterly. I wrapped an arm around her, rolled over on her, and kissed her gently on the lips.“I don't know what to say,” I began. “I can't imagine what it was like to go through that.”“Huh,” Rio snorted. “My parents slapped me with anti-depressants and an implant, my ‘friends' told me it was for the best, not being teen Mom material and all, and I treated myself like a whore.”“Hell, I sucked and fucked the entire lawn crew once; I fucked my little brother's friends; and I became known as the girl who would ride bareback at my school. It is a miracle I didn't contract herpes or AIDS,” she recited sadly. “I think I hated just about everybody.”“You know that none of that matters to me; right?” I asked. “You are still that woman I woke up next to on day one.”“To the bitter end,” she recited.“To the bitter end,” I affirmed, my promise to stand by her no matter what.“Why couldn't you be in love with me?” she sighed.“You are asking an eighteen-year-old how this love thing works?” I teased her. “I've been lucky enough to meet five women in the past two weeks I'd like to spend forever with, and I love the one I'm least likely to end up with. I'm clueless.”“Me, Iona, Barbie Lynn, Christina and Heaven?” Rio guessed. I nodded, which made her snicker. “You really want to spend forever with Heaven? You are a glutton for punishment.”“Heaven can be really nice,” I defended my girlfriend.“She's got a permanent case of PMS. Hell knows what would happen if she actually had PMS,” Rio teased me back.“So you don't want to spend any more time with her?” I inquired.“Fuck that,” Rio giggled, “I like them brave, bold, and saucy in the saddle. I'd love breaking her down, or having her break me trying.”“Fine,” I announced after a moment's contemplation.“Fine?” she asked.“I'm not going to break my word to Jill but I can't wait to fuck you until we get back to campus, so how would you like to screw on Pastor Bill's desk before Sunday school?” I suggested.“I'd love to leave a little something extra on that gold-plated conman's desk,” Rio purred.“Now, Zane, do you think you could bend the rules ever so slightly and finger-fuck me? I'm ever so horny,” Rio pleaded. I figured it couldn't hurt too much; right? I rubbed and rubbed one hand down to her crotch where Rio had already pulled her soaked panties down to mid-thigh. With my other hand, I pushed up her top, exposing her ripe nipples, chain and all.I plucked a nipple into my mouth, letting my tongue play along the stud before sucking in more of the breast, increasing the pressure on the nipple itself. Rio was well worked up already and now began to writhe beneath me. My free hand passed below her carefully groomed chevron-shaped pubic mound and along her clit.Her folds welcomed me like molten gold, so hot yet silky smooth to the touch. As she started to moan, Rio stuck the meat of her palm into her mouth and bit down in order to keep quiet. I spent a minute playing with her two studs in her labia before working two fingers deep inside her, twisting them, and seeking out her G-spot.“Gak!” Rio convulsed as I stroked it. Oh, yeah, I thought, as I began to seriously work it over. Rio's fluids were sloshing around my fingers, her other hand began pressing my whole mouth over her breast, and she kept bucking up against me. I now began to alternate between rhythmically tapping her special place and brutally finger fucking her, driving two fingers in and slapping her clit with my palm.“Uh, uh, uh, ugh, ugh, um,” Rio began panting, then her body arched and she screamed into her clenched fist. “Oh, fuck, that's good,” she finally managed to get out. Before I could respond, she grabbed my head and drew me up for a fierce kiss. She tore at my lips and tried to steal my breath away.“Tell me you want me,” she pleaded with a desperate hunger tinged with fear.“I want you, Rio, always,” I responded with my own heat and need. Slowly the passion ebbed from Rio's eyes and a playful demeanor replaced it.“You are such a dumb blonde, Glenda,” she sighed happily. Glenda had been the name that had allowed me admission to school in the first place, Glenn Zane Braxton, Glenda.I answered by pulling my fingers out of her cunt, taking a lick, then pushing them through her lips. Rio daintily sucked on them, pulling them in and cleaning them off before biting down like the little bitch she is and making tears come to my eyes.“What the fuck!” I hissed.“That's for not giving me your dick, Asshole,” she snickered. When I looked ready to explode, she pouted her lips, rolled onto her stomach and stuck her bare ass up in the air for a spanking. I grunted and rolled over onto my side, away from her.“Good night, you witch,” I sulked.There was some rustling behind me a minute later, then Rio snaked an arm around me and pressed her body to my back.“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I act crazy at times.” I rolled over to face her.“I know what I'm getting into, Rio,” I comforted her. “That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt at times.” I displayed my wounded fingers. She kissed my fingers, I kissed her lips, and we both finally went to sleep.Preacher William, Valerie, and the seeds of discord.*You can live without freedom the same way you can live without light, happiness, or music*Jill didn't know what to make of our prompt appearance Sunday morning for breakfast already dressed for church. I'd convinced Rio to not try a hard sell with my aunt, instead playing it calm, cool, and collected. The real reason we wanted to get to church early was because I'd come up with the idea of screwing Rio on Pastor Bill's massive mahogany desk before class and she'd become infatuated with the scheme.GAINING DEFINITIONWe had to remember our Bibles before eagerly heading out the door. Mine went back to my missionary days while Rio's was brand new, a gift from Jill. She'd lost her old one on the trip from Arizona to Virginia, or so she'd told Jill. In reality, she had torn hers apart page by page and stuffed it down the airplane toilet during the flight, her way of spreading the gospel.Once at the church, we split up, Rio and I getting together a few minutes later. I was unsure about the security cameras in the hallway but Rio shrugged it off. She followed the wires to the closet the system was kept in, picked the lock, and deleted the last two hours of footage before deactivating the whole system.I was clever enough to wipe off all our fingerprints before we made for the pastor's office. This time, Rio's improvised, lock picks weren't necessary as the secretary kept the door unlocked. We slipped past her station to the larger office beyond and I chased Rio around to the 'big chair'.“So, Bad Boy, are you going to make me a Bad Girl?” Rio taunted me.I stepped up between her thighs and got ready to feast on her succulent cunt lips when she held me up.“I don't think we have time for that,” Rio grinned. She slipped out of her panties, which I quickly pocketed (having learned from the first Barbie Lynn incident), and hopped up on the desk facing me.I unbuckled my belt, fixed the button, and unzipped my pants. My penis came smoothly out of my boxers and I lined up with Rio's slit. Her juices were already flowing by the time my cockhead graced her full lips.“Oh, that's what I've been looking for,” Rio moaned, as I pushed forward inch after glorious inch inside her.She wrapped her arms around my neck and came close to doing the same with her legs around my waist by the time I was fully into her. I got a few half-thrusts into Rio, our faces only inches apart, when I began to push her back down on the desk.“No, I want to look into your eyes,” she told me. I nodded and started driving my cock in a strong steady rhythm.“Rio,” I said softly.“Yes,” she breathed heavily.“I like saying your name,” I explained. “I like the sound of it and the way it makes me feel.”“I, ” I was sure she was fighting for a snarky reply but then she smiled and said, “Okay.”“Oh. God, Oh, Fuck,” Rio gasped, as we began, getting her close to climax. I stopped when I first heard the voices. “What?” Rio panted. I pulled her off the desk and looked for a place to hide. There were three other doors out of the room. I took the closest, yanked up my pants, and dragged Rio to it.It turned out to be a large closet with vestments, coats, and a few changes of clothing inside. Before I could finish shutting the door, Rio put her hand in the way. Before I could inquire why, the main office door opened and in came Pastor Bill and Lance Wellington. They were yammering on about something or other; I really wasn't paying attention.All that changed after Pastor Bill took his seat behind the desk and swiveled it to the side. Lance came around the desk and knelt before our spiritual leader. His body blocked my visual but I heard a zipper being undone and some clothes being pushed aside. What Lance proceeded to do was clear enough, though.Rio was between me and the door; she looked over her shoulder and grinned evilly. Before long, she had my cock in her hand and was maneuvering it back to her pussy from behind. I moved my hips down, she arched up, and I slipped back into the hole I'd been in not a minute before. I stayed still while Rio began to ride my cock up and down.There we were, two very different couples separated by less than a dozen feet, both fucking in different ways. Lance was giving Pastor Bill oral attention in a manner that dictated long familiarity to not only cock-sucking, but blowing Pastor Bill in particular. Rio had one hand placed against the door sill in order to stop us from spilling out of the closet while the other was tucked against her stomach.The four of us were pushing toward climax but Pastor Bill was the first one to the trigger. I was still feeling the oily smoothness of my cock inside Rio's vagina while rubbing both breasts through her shirt and bra when Lance began chocking and sputtering. The bastard hadn't even warned Lance that he was cumming.Good ole Pastor Bill reached across the desk to grab two Kleenex. As he did so, his other hand came down to rest on a slick spot Rio and I had left on his desk. He looked at his hand with disgust and wiped it off his hand before handing a tissue to Lance.“Get going to class,” Pastor Bill told his cock-sucking companion.“Of course, Pastor William,” Lance responded as he cleaned his face. As he headed to the door, he turned to the preacher.“Do I have to do another marriage counseling session with Felicity? She is so damn annoying,” he whined.“Lance, you are going to have to keep up appearances and that means spending the occasional night with her,” Pastor Bill lectured him. “As distasteful as she is, she is the socially acceptable choice for your spouse if you plan to have a political career.”“I wish this whole marriage thing was over with already,” Lance sighed. “Then I could stick her in the house and get her out of my life.”“Remember, a woman is a duty, but you know how to get your pleasure. Take your pill when you have to lay with her, and if nothing else, use her back door,” he chuckled.“I suppose so,” Lance conceded, “but I'll have to shut her up. She blathers on and on incessantly and her voice is so grating.”“Well,” Pastor Bill laughed, “you can always use her mouth too.” Lance snorted and left the room; Bill followed a minute later.For our part, the whole exchange between Pastor Bill and Lance got Rio hotter and hotter. She was rocketing back against me until I was afraid the slapping of our flesh would alert our host to our presence.Once he was gone, Rio went off.“Fuck me, damn it,” Rio exulted. “I'm going to rape their asses.” I wasn't sure how that would work. It wasn't like Rio's or my word would go all that far. I decided to spin her back around and kick her leg up over my arm so I could fuck her while gazing into her eyes.The first thing I noticed was the sheer joy etched all over her face. The second thing I noted was her phone in hand, set on record. There was going to be some severe damage over this and I had to do damage control, but first I had to screw Rio to orgasm.“Ah, ah, ah,” Rio moaned. “You are churning me up inside, you fucking brute. This is so fucking good.”“And the video?” I inquired.“Fucking brilliant,” she panted, “My best idea yet.” I drilled Rio several more strong strokes and she gripped me tightly and sexually exploded on me. She kept squeezing my cock with her vaginal muscles as I came in her as she was still cresting her wave.“Oh, Zane,” she wept tears of joy on my shoulder, “You make all this other shit bearable.”“No problem, bro,” I sighed happily, “but we need to talk about the video.”“Yeah,” she snorted, “you have a plan. I'm going to bypass me having a temper-tantrum and get straight to you making me happy with how clever you are.”“We find more ways to bring Felicity over to our side, then hit her with this when she's wavering,” I detailed. “We still need credibility and that's going to take Barbie Lynn on our side. Once we get Felicity, we can get Mrs. Wellington too. That gives us access to everyone in the church.”I set Rio onto her feet and handed her panties too her. Rio shimmied into them and grinned.“Now I'm all sloshy inside. Is that thing a damn fire hydrant?”“You weren't complaining a minute ago,” I countered.“I'm not complaining, but all those bitches in class are going to know I've been fucked,” she snickered.“Who are you going to blame?” I wondered.“Pastor William, our glorious shepherd; I can describe just what his cock looks like now,” she grinned manically.“I think we are back to that whole 'credibility' issue,” I reminded her.“You aren't going to let me have any fun,” Rio pouted.“Well, work on this; I'm pretty sure Lance isn't the only guy here that the pastor is using. Lance was a tool, nothing more,” I told her. “It could be fun to find out who his other toys are.”“I hate you for having a better idea than me,” Rio giggled, “but I love your deviant mind more.”“I love you too, Baby,” I said as I brushed her cheek. “Let's get to class before they get to ridicule us for arriving late.” Rio grabbed my hand and sprinted with me out of the office. We were late to class but only just. This time I'd studied so Mr. Coleman wasn't able to humiliate me, though some wise-ass taunted me about being on a women's committee.“Yes, I do,” I confirmed, “and what committee are you on?”“Athletics committee,” he sneered. I gave him a shit-eating grin right back that gave him pause.“So I hang out with a bunch of MILF's, which is a pretty red-blooded American male thing to do, while you hang out with a bunch of guys, which is pretty homo-erotic,” I chuckled.There was a deafening silence in the room. We had broken up for church service and a few guys were almost out the door. The target of my aggression was first stunned, then angry.“Mr. Braxton, that is quite enough out of you,” Mr. Coleman snapped.“I'm sorry about that, Mr. Coleman. I thought he was ribbing me about my committee so I teased him back about his; I wasn't serious,” I lied.Andy, the guy who'd given me a hard time, elected that moment to get in my face.“That wasn't funny, Braxton,” he snapped. Mr. Coleman remained conspicuously silent.“Gosh, Andy,” I quipped, “I don't know where to begin. How about, we are in a House of God and shouldn't be raising a fist against one another.”“If that doesn't work, do understand that you get the first punch, then I break you like a twig,” I continued with eagerness written all over my face. “You are an elementary school teacher and I have years of martial arts experience.” Andy suddenly paled.“Mr. Braxton,” Coleman growled again. “How dare you threaten somebody?”“Um, Mr. Coleman, Andy got in my face, so what exactly are you getting on my case about? Wouldn't the situation be better served if you stopped him in the first place?” I said.“Andy should be able to take a joke better,” another guy in my class, Christopher Gilbert, joined in. “Besides, Zane's right; the wives on the committee are attractive and their husbands are lucky men.”That seemed to end the matter because Chris Gilbert was the son of somebody and carried weight in this crowd. We continued to depart but I felt obliged to stop Chris.“Thanks, but I'm not sure why you just backed me up there,” I questioned.“Maybe you're not such a bad guy,” he grinned.I had to think that over. I barely knew Christopher Gilbert. He was 23, son of a big real estate guy, he was a property manager, whatever that was.“I have to appreciate the timing of your epiphany,” I joked.“It came to me late Thursday night when I had a security issue at one of my properties,” he grinned. Oh, crap. His daddy must own the mall where I had that little altercation.“Sorry if I cost you a good night's sleep,” was all I could say.“Let me say that, 'damn, you're fast,' and it would have been mean of me to let Andy get his ass handed to him in front of all his friends,” Chris related. “He's really not a bad guy either.”“I'll keep that in mind,” I nodded.We were making our way to the church hall when Rio, Iona, and Barbie Lynn intercepted us.“Hey, Ms. Masters,” Chris said to Barbie Lynn. He looked at the other two girls.“Christopher Gilbert, this is Rio Talon and Iona Becket, two of my classmates and closest friends,” I introduced my buddies.“So, Chris, how do you know Barbie-licious?” Rio smirked.“Huh?” Chris said.“Rio has an intense sense of humor, Chris,” I intervened. “Pay her no mind.” Before Rio cold make things worse, I placed an arm behind her and pinched her butt. “Behave,” I warned her.“Okay, Zane,” Chris chuckled. “Good luck with that one. To answer your question: I know Ms. Masters from a few years back at a youth retreat. We were both counselors. Take care now.” He turned and walked off to his section of the tabernacle while the girls and I went off to ours.“So, Barbie, were you hot for Chris back at camp?” Rio persisted.“Chris? Nah, he had a girlfriend back then; they both went to the University of Virginia. I think they broke up right before they graduated but I'm not sure,” Barbie Lynn informed us. “Besides, I had a fiancé too.”“Had? Have you tossed him over for Zane?” Rio teased. I sighed and Barbie Lynn blushed.“Nah, Shugah, I tossed him over for you,” Barbie Lynn whispered into Rio's ear.“Just for that tantalizing tease, no Honey Glaze for those hot crossed buns of yours,” Rio bantered right back.“Am I the only one who remembers we are in a church?” lectured Iona.“No, you are not,” Christina surprised us. “Now stop trying to make a scene and sit down with the rest of us.” We dutifully obeyed because three of us respected Christina and I had one of Rio's arms twisted behind her back.At the end of service there was no problem getting the gang to go down to the space between the pews and the podium where the important people gathered. I caught Pastor William shooting me a hooded look but I blew him off. I was here for someone else, as was Barbie Lynn and Rio. Iona was tagging along to make sure we kept out of too much trouble.“Hey, Sahara,” I greeted the pastor's wife, who hovered near but wasn't part of the action.“Why, hello, Zane,” she smiled. “Did you enjoy the service?”“I'm still a little fuzzy on the message of seeking wisdom in God's word instead of Man's technology,” I grinned. “After all, I have an app that gives me helpful Bible verses on demand.”“I think you missed the point, Zane,” she shook her head with mirth. “We need to trust the Word of God over the simple technological solutions that fail to take in the moral implications of the results.”“Wow, when you say it that way, it makes sense,” I applauded. Sahara blushed and gave me another smile.Rio and Barbie Lynn had closed in on Felicity, allowing Iona and I to come up behind Mrs. Wellington. I put my hand on the small of her back and positioned myself at her side.“Hello, Mrs. Wellington,” I greeted her. I knew her first look at me would define a lot about how she felt about last night.“Zane,” she beamed at me. “How are you doing today?”“Better now,” I grinned. “I just wanted to say that I'm downloading those files we discussed when I get to campus this afternoon.”“Oh,” Mrs. Bainbridge sneered, “is Mr. Braxton working on a special project already?”“Zane,” Rochelle Wellington smiled to her rival sweetly, “send Kendra a copy of the notes you showed me. Kendra, Zane has a talent for 3-D imagery that the committee will find quite useful. I thought you might find it nice to have our newest member showing some interest.”“Oh, it is his interest that I'm worried about,” Kendra commented, with a pretty obvious look toward Sahara.Before I could respond to that jab, I felt a hand on my shoulder trying to pull me around.“Pastor William wants a word with you,” Lance informed me.“Okay,” I shrugged, then turned back to Kendra. “Mrs. Bainbridge, I admit that it is my fault that I find Mrs. Penny to be kinder, more compassionate, and more spiritually understanding than you. She is a gentle soul who better relates to what a young man needs.”“Pastor William wants to see you now,” Lance insisted.“That's nice, Lance. I'm talking to your mother,” I said dismissively. “Rochelle, thank you for agreeing to mentor me; I appreciate you helping me understand this Church and this community by taking some of your valuable time to listen to my ideas.”“Ladies, have a nice Sunday. Okay, Lance, let's go see what Pastor Bill wants now,” I told him.“His name is Pastor William,” Lance corrected me somewhat angrily.“No, his name is William Penny and he happens to be a pastor,” I jibed. Lance's response was stymied by our arrival at Pastor Bill's circle of cronies.“Ah, Glenn,” Bill greeted me. “I would like to invite you to dine with my wife and I tomorrow night.” I was smart enough to know that wasn't really an invitation, but still,“I'd like to but this week is our first round of testing for the semester so I'm not sure I can break free,” I answered.“You find time enough for other things, like jail,” he lectured me in a personally degrading matter.“Pastor William, as you will learn about me, people who cross me or threaten the ones I hold dear, I beat bloody and leave broken on the ground,” I smiled evilly right back. The confusion that threat caused was evident because I hadn't been quiet.“Jesus loves the Peacemaker,” Pastor Bill bantered back.“Winners write the history books,” I countered.“That is not very Christian of you,” Mr. Wellington, the Mayor, pointed out.“Jesus Christ ended up nailed to a cross; Emperor Constantine, who converted the whole Roman Empire to Christ's worship, got to build his own city,” I responded.“I won't be as famous but I'll do more and get to bury my enemies before I die,” I added.“Are you sure you were a missionary in Thailand?” another church elder asked.“Oh, I was a missionary all right, but not a very good one. I left the hard work to my Uncle Tim and Aunt Jill,” I informed them.“Did they convert many heathen souls to the World of our Lord?” a third man inquired.“It is not that simple. They taught people to read English and got them in the practice of reading the Bible,” I explained. “They have over a thousand years of culture to work against and many of the tenants of Buddhism are close to our own Christian virtues so it is hard work.”“So that would be a 'No',” Pastor Bill gloated.“Really?” I grinned. “When Uncle Tim went missing, 200 of his flock risked floodwaters in an eventually futile effort to save him. How many of us would risk drowning to save you, Pastor William? I would say that when lives were on the line, his flock did their Christian duty.”I noticed Jill standing on the edge of the group listening, her eyes close to tears. Hey, I hated Tim, but I wasn't going to let these spineless bastards degrade the man in front of his widow, no matter how I felt.“I'm sure we would all rise to the challenge,” Mr. Wellington pontificated.“Then you are as good a man as Uncle Tim,” I trapped him with his own words.“Your Uncle Tim gave everything, including his life,” Pastor Bill said with a smug, superior smile. “His willingness to give should be an example for all.”“I'm already giving. The Festivities Committee's budget seems a bit anemic so I'm going to be funding some of their efforts,” I enlightened him.“That is not how tithes are normally handled,” Pastor Bill corrected me.“I'm not a normal guy,” I grinned. “Pastor, I'll look over my schedule and call your house to let you know if I can swing dinner tomorrow. It has been a wonderful chat but I have to be going now.”I turned and left them there, confident I hadn't made any friends among Bill's inner circle. The price of their friendship was way more than I was willing to pay and it wasn't just monetary. My girls swarmed around me, even Jill.“Thank you, Zane,” Jill said softly. “Tim would have been proud.”“Jill, I said that for you, not him. You stood by him and that shouldn't be trampled on by people who don't know any better,” I comforted her.“I was getting ready to cry out 'Blood and Souls for my Lord Arioch,” Rio grinned.“Why did you antagonize them?” Iona wondered.“They are used to bullying people and getting their way. I let them know I was more than willing to fight,” I told Iona.“He also wanted the women to see what he was doing,” Barbie Lynn said. “I saw a few females, Felicity included, who thought a great deal of how Zane handled the situation.”“Girls love watching men fight over them,” Rio laughed as we exited into the parking lot.“Is everyone coming to our place for lunch?” Jill asked. I took a quick look around the girls who nodded their approval.“Sure thing, Jill; we will be at home in an hour,” I answered.Getting back to campus and into casual clothes wasn't a problem, nor was lunch with Jill. We sat around and shot the shit for an hour afterwards but school work demanded that we head back to school to do some actual classwork. I went by Raven's to pick her up because she'd left me a text (by way of Iona) that she'd made some progress over the weekend.“We really should study in the library,” Raven told me as we headed to my room.“The last time I checked, the library didn't have a snack bar,” I told her. Raven was less than convinced and a bit nervous until we opened the door to the bottom of the steps leading to the Solarium where I lived and the voices of multiple girls welcomed us.“You have company?” she questioned me.“All freshmen are welcome in my room, Raven. You'll see,” I informed her.“Is there going to be anyplace for us to study, ” Raven began to confound me, then we came to the point where you could see past the side of the stairs into the Solarium.“Oh, God,” she muttered at the scope of the room, “you, you have pool tables!” she ended up in a near squeal. “I love pool!” She took a few steps forward into the room before looking back at me. “What is all this? Where did this all come from?”“I was given the entire Solarium as my room, sort of, and I decided to convert most of it to a common area for the freshman class,” I said.“How long has this been going on?” she wondered.“We did it yesterday,” Iona said from the closest sofa. She put down her laptop and walked over to us. “Zane paid for the stuff and we students put it in. Let me show you around.”“You do that, Iona,” I told her, as I gave my diminutive friend a hug, “I'll be in my room.”Iona led Raven deeper into the complex of entertainment while I headed to my room, which seemed to be the quietest place to study today.ValerieI passed around the Chinese silk screens that shielded my private area from the rest of the Solarium and saw my new monster-sized bed. I also saw the tall, honey-blonde Amazon reclining on it, looking my way.“Come here, my Love-Monkey,” she said in a deep, husky voice. I'm sure my mouth gaped open.“Ah, I don't believe we've been introduced,” I managed to finally say. She smiled and patted the bed beside her.“You are seriously hot and I'm positive I'd remember you if we'd met, but I don't and I do need to study so I'm going to ask you to please leave,” I groaned. “Trust me, I really don't want to be asking you that either.”I heard laughter from the far side of the bed and Rio slowly raised her body into sight.“Bro, the look on your face is priceless,” she chuckled.“So this is really your room?” the other girl inquired.“I told you it was,” Rio grinned.“Yes, it is,” I responded as well. “In fact, this entire floor is mine, mainly because the Administration has nowhere else to stick me.”“Rio, what's going on here?” I turned to my other friend.“Honest, Boss,” she beamed, “I found her when I got home. She's my new dorm mate, your replacement.”“You were her first roommate?” the newcomer asked.“For all of one night,” I confessed. “Then everyone realized she had boobies, and I didn't, and I developed this current life of seclusion.”“This is your version of seclusion?” she questioned.“What can I say?” I sighed. “I'm a man of creature comforts. That still doesn't explain you on my bed. Rio?”“She is Valerie Palmer, a new addition to the school,” Rio started, “but that's not the cool part. She's a member of the Stormriders motorcycle gang.” Seeing my lack of name recognition, Rio added, “They are a big deal in the West, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona, of course.”“Nice to meet you, Valerie.” I knelt on the bed and extended my hand. “I'm Glenn Zane Braxton, but everyone calls me Zane. Welcome to FFU, and what brought you to us?”“Dad is a born-again Christian and he wanted me to come here, so here I am,” she shrugged. Now, to me that made no sense, as she should have been eighteen, thus her own person, but who was I to press into her personal matters.“Damn it, Zane, I keep forgetting you were living in a cave for the past two years,” Rio shook her head. “Her grandfather is Daniel 'Damien' Palmer.” Again, I didn't know who that person was.“My grandfather is doing three life sentences,” Valerie said with a degree of weariness.“Fine. I should take it the Stormriders are not a motorcycle club, then,” I grinned at her.Valerie's eyes and mine locked for several seconds.“Are you arrogant, stupid, or really unconcerned?” Valerie asked me.“A little of all three,” Rio chimed in.“You should never ask a man if he's arrogant because if he is, he won't know it,” I responded.“I'm smart enough to get into this university, but them I'm dumb enough to be the only guy at this university,” I continued. “I can honestly tell you I really don't care who you were before you came here. It is none of my damn business. If you want to be friends, I'm game.” Valerie nodded. “Oh, and Rio is a nutjob, but if you hurt her, I'll make you suffer, I swear it.”“Is that supposed to scare me, rich boy?” Valerie said, becoming very serious and sitting up, “because I'm not impressed.”“I didn't say it to impress you, Valerie,” I met her gaze, “I believe in fair warning. I don't care if you are damaged goods or you are one stone-cold, bad-ass bitch; you mess with Rio and I'll take her pain out of your hide.”“Rio, I thought you told me this guy was cool,” Valerie said to Rio while still looking at me.“Best guy in the whole God-damn world,” Rio beamed.“Zane, have you ever stabbed somebody?” Valerie quizzed me.“On purpose or by accident?” I asked.“How do you stab someone by accident?” Valerie wondered.“You toss their ass into a stand of bamboo so hard the stalks break and they get impaled,” I answered. “I take it you've done it on purpose.” She shrugged.“Do you fight much?” she changed tact.“More than I should,” I replied, “but I butt in where I don't belong too much.”“Me too,” Valerie nodded, “on the 'I fight more than I should' thing.”“Well, I would rather talk shit upfront than spill blood later,” I pointed out.“Like warning me about Rio,” she nodded.“Please believe me, she's a nut and will get on your nerves, so please don't toss her out a window or down the stairs because I'm actually attached to her,” I grinned. Rio flopped on the bed.“I should be mouthing empty denials but Zane's pretty much right,” Rio snickered, “and if he hadn't fucked me silly on the preacher's desk this morning, I'd be in his face about this bullshit.”“You had sex on your preacher's desk?” Valerie smiled.“Zane, what are these girls, what the hell?” Raven went off. “What kind of bedroom is this?”“Raven, you know Rio and this is her new roommate Valerie. Valerie, this is Raven,” I groaned.“Hey, Raven,” Valerie greeted her. “So do you normally walk into Zane's bedroom too?”“No,” Raven blushed. “He invited me over to do some work on our English project.” Iona stepped in behind Raven and waved to Rio.“Iona, Valerie; Valerie, Iona,” I sighed.“Wait!” Valerie raised her hand and looked back to me. “Are you gay? Because I see a lot of girls strolling into your room and none of them have been identified as your girlfriend yet.”“Technically, that would be Heaven,” Iona volunteered. “She's a senior.”“Can we get back to everyone being in Zane's room?” Raven grumbled. “And what is he doing with a bed as big as my entire room back home?” Valerie appraised the room.“Got it,” she laughed. “You are sleeping with her (Iona) and her (Rio), but not you (Raven).”“Of course I'm not sleeping with him,” Raven shot back. “I took a Purity Pledge, as should all of you.”“I'm not a virgin,” Valerie responded.“Me, either,” Rio waved.“I am,” Iona raised her hand.“That's nice,” I directed. “Rio, Valerie, and Iona, please leave. I've invited Raven to my room so we can do actual classwork because I occasionally like to pretend I'm in college for an education.”“On it, Zane,” Rio snickered. “Come on, Valerie, let's go check out the hot tub. I wanted to show you to Zane so he could put you on his 'To Do' list.” Iona shook her head and left.“I've got a boyfriend,” Valerie clarified.“Thank God,” I muttered, which drew looks from all three women. After Rio and Val left, Raven kept staring at me.“I, does this happen to you often?” she finally asked.“Yes, but I've learned to adjust,” I pointed out.We sat down on the bed, Raven pulled out four library books on the period we were looking into, and we began going through them and taking notes.“Is Heaven really your girlfriend?” Raven asked after a while.“Yes, but it is more complicated than that. I love another girl but I don't know if she loves me, and I spend time with a dozen other girls here, plus I have friends at a Sorority House off campus,” I explained.“And you sleep with Rio, who isn't a virgin, and Iona, who is,” she stated, and I confirmed with a nod.“I was wrong. If you can keep all that straight in your head, you have a good grasp of details. We are going to do fine on this term paper.”“Thank you, Raven,” I smiled at her, and for a change, she smiled back.GUST FRONTI would have liked to spend the night with Iona and Barbie Lynn but Iona informed me that Coach Dana Gorman had tested her security code earlier in the day and I figured something was up; nothing good for me and my friends. Sure enough, at 12:10 in the morning, my little buzzer by the bed that informed me that a key code was being entered woke me up.I silenced the alarm (no sense in letting them know that I had it) and waited in bed. Shortly thereafter, the Coach and two female security guards came strolling in.“Alone?” Dana quipped.“You asking me out?” I grinned.“Get up; we need to check the bed, if that is what you call this thing,” she motioned to my sleeping platform. I dutifully got out of bed.“What are you doing?” she snapped when she realized I was naked.“Getting out of bed like you asked me to. I sleep in the nude, or didn't you already know that?” I yawned.“Put some clothes on,” she ordered. I picked up my robe and put it on while they stripped back my sheets and looked for bodily fluids under the dark light. I had been at my Aunt's the past two nights, so yes, my bed was still fresh. Unsatisfied, Dana and her two buddies began roughly going over my place.When they finally discovered nothing (my hiding places were specifically designed), the two officers turned and left.“I'll be keeping an eye on you, Zane. You can expect this to be a regular occurrence,” she promised. I simply stared. We remained looking at one another for a minute because she knew I was up to something.“That's right, step out of line and make my job easier,” she noted. Again I kept my silence. It would have been easy to take this personally but I'd told her this was War and I took that seriously. I doubted I was the sole beneficiary of their attention so I had to get ready to respond to their next move.“Nothing to say?” she asked. I kept staring. “Say something, damn it,” she growled.“Good night, Coach,” I obliged. She shook her head, turned, and walked away. When I saw the door close behind her I went back to my room and took out my phone. I made three calls to the concerned parties and a final call to Iona, to have her wipe my call log. I can't say I slept well that night.Showering in the morning was troublesome enough on normal days but this morning, Rio decided to invite Valerie to join us. I did my best to pretend to ignore her, which wasn't easy. Valerie was around six feet with milky skin where the sun didn't reach and tanned where it did. Her hair was golden-blonde and she was trimmed, not shaved. Her eyes were grey with a hint of blue around the edges; he breasts were a solid C without a hint of sag. There sure were a lot of blondes going to this school.I could see the mental calculations going through her head as she walked in and the other girls eyed her. In the hierarchy of this place, I didn't hold a place; proximity to me showed a girl's status among the crowd. Opal was top dog, but Rio and Iona were marked by their close relationship with me as well.Valerie clearly thought about walking away from it all to spare herself the drama and the grief. She countered that with the knowledge that she had to fit in somewhere in this school, and as non-traditional as she was, her best bet was with us. She answered that internal struggle by taking the shower one down from me, next to Opal.Opal expressed her dominance to Valerie by corralling me into a body massage and a show of mutual affection. I thought Valerie was unimpressed with those actions but as we got into it, I sensed she was intrigued by the notion of having sex without actually having sex, and the sexual arousal that came with it.As I settled in front of the sink to brush my hair, shave, and brush my teeth, Valerie took the sink beside me.“You don't seem to mind all these naked bodies around you,” she noted.“Why should I? I enjoy them and they enjoy me. I like making them happy, and my presence certainly makes their lives more difficult so I'm glad to help,” I explained.“So, do things ever go to the next level?” Valerie asked.“Not here, and not with most of these women; they are virgins and happy about that fact. They want to be virgins on their wedding nights and I respect that,” I answered.“Rio makes you out to be some sort of sex-crazed stud monster,” Val informed me.“Rio's not a virgin and her only plans for marriage involve her being a black widow to her old, rich husbands,” I grinned.“Is she, bi-sexual?” Valerie whispered.“Yes, I can verify that she is,” I replied quietly. “Has she hit on you yet? Wait, silly question, have you thrown her out of your bed yet?”“This morning I found her sucking on my nipple through my nightshirt,” she smirked.“Rio needs constant reminding of where the boundaries are,” I informed Val.“You two talking about me?” Rio came bouncing up. “Is there a three-way in our future? Who gets tied up?” Valerie groaned in response.“Rio, there is such a thing as personal space and acceptable roommate behavior,” I told Rio. “Things like spontaneously feeling her up while she sleeps are BAD!”“God, damn it!” Rio squalled, “But did you see the size of those bad boys? They are huge and puffy and I swear, they were calling out to me across the room.”“In my long and illustrious career with the female nipple, they have never talked to me. If you don't behave, I'm going to have to tie you up at the next orgy and make you watch,” I warned. I couldn't threaten to take away something she had, like her piercings; that would make her dig in her heels. Instead, I went after the things she was looking forward to.“Don't forget to secure her hands over her head so she can't diddle herself,” Valerie got into the sport of things.“Good point,” I agreed.“Major buzz-kill, you two. Valerie, you are trying to make your first day here no fun at all,” Rio teased.“Which reminds me; Valerie, has Rio warned you about Handmaiden's Duty?” I inquired. Rio looked offended that I would say such a thing while Val looked confused.“It is a tradition here that requires all freshmen to perform a task of a non-damaging nature for any and all upperclassmen. They cannot grab you in class or a dorm room, but anywhere else is fair game,” I informed her.“My first task was to be a bench for someone to sit on,” Rio grinned.“Mine was to kiss a girl,” I nodded.“Kiss her? Cordelia damn near passed out, you kissed her so long and deep,” Rio teased me.“The first one was very nice and chaste,” Iona stepped up and added. “It was the second one that curled her toes and started the stampeded on Zane.”“What do I do if a girl asks me to kiss her?” Valerie worried.“Tell her you are waiting for your herpes to clear up,” Rio volunteered.“It isn't likely to happen,” Iona came across with sounder advice. “Homosexuality is frowned on at this campus.”“I'd tell you to kiss them and enjoy the moment, but I'm a guy,” I shrugged.“I'm still not sure what is normal for this place,” Valerie related.“Rio and Zane are aberrations,” Iona offered. “Most of the girls here are fundamentalist Christian virgins who are looking to get married once they graduate this place.”“What is your story?” Val asked Iona.“I was pretty much the girl I just described until I met these two,” she smiled. “Now I feel that I have, options.”“Options like prison time,” Rio laughed, “or becoming a sex toy at an S&M club.”“I was thinking more like taking a summer and roaming the country,” Iona glared Rio.“Maybe I could teach you to ride a motorcycle and you can come with me,” Valerie offered.“That would be wonderful!” Iona brightened up. “When could we start?”“This afternoon, if you like,” Val responded. “My ride is in the parking lot.”“You have a motorcycle, here?” Rio exclaimed.“Rio, it is hard to be in a motorcycle gang without a chopper,” Valerie pointed out.“On that note, I have to go,” I sighed. New girls were starting to migrate in, meaning I had to retreat to my room. “Take care, everyone.”The crapstormThe crapstorm fell on us as we left the dorm. All kinds of upperclassmen snatched up freshmen as they appeared and shadowed Pro-Christina students they couldn't grab. Rio and I were able to shove off of Valerie before she was identified as being with one of us, so she made it to the Dining Hall unmolested.I didn't have to do anything too heinous, carry three backpacks while reciting the Gospel of Luke from memory (ugh). They made Rio sing 'Onward Christian Soldier' because it was the only religious song she'd admit to knowing. She did a horrific hack-job of it too. They had Iona going through the descendants of Noah; she knocked them back flawlessly, Brainiac.It got better at the Dining Hall door where Rhaine oversaw the removal of every electronic device from the incoming students, no phones, tablets or laptops, nothing capable of rapid communication. Then came the assigned seating designed to break us all up. Surprisingly, Valerie looped back around and joined us in the line.She leaned into me.“What the fuck is going on?” she whispered.“There is a war going on between the Pro-Christina faction Rio, Iona and I belong to, and the Pro-Rhaine faction, which is supported by the Administration. I didn't want to get you involved,” I explained as I saw Mrs. Marlowe closing in.“Mr. Braxton, be quiet,” she snapped.“Of course, Ms. Marlowe,” I nodded to her; she glared back. We had assigned seating for breakfast, isolating us. Conversations were kept to a minimum by roving teachers and the mood was getting grim, made worse by a slow drizzle that began to fall outside. Still, things weren't hopeless.As I was putting my food tray away, Paige of the Science Club slipped past me.“Copper Seven,” she whispered.Cordelia, head of the Science Club, was definitely the smartest person on campus. She'd created a list of contingency plans for us to use if things went bad. We should have been getting them on our phones but the Chancellor had stymied us there.Instead, things were circulating by word of mouth. In this case, Copper Seven, things were simple. Copper meant theft and Seven was the code for communications. We were stealing the facility's phones, crashing their computers, and doing whatever mischief we could to make communications difficult, if not impossible.I had the pleasure of passing the word on to Rio, who gave me a look that would have made any brigand with a handful of gold proud. I didn't know the specifics of Rio's criminal history but I knew she definitely had one, and I'd have been stunned if pickpocket and shoplifting weren't part of her repertoire. I'd warned Coach Gorman about making shit like this fascist suppression policy up.I barely recalled what I was forced to perform on the way to Assembly because what happened there was so memorable. We got the standard lecture, then the Chancellor laid into Christina for all the disruptions the student body was going through, Christina and a few other malcontents. What made it memorable was, at the end of Dr. Bass's speech, a freshman I barely knew, Millicent Pierce, stood up and raised her fist in defiance.“That's bullshit!” she cried out.“Sit down and be quiet, child!” the Chancellor commanded. “Coach Gorman,” she then directed our head of security toward the young girl. Millicent wasn't done yet.“You are lying to us!” she screamed out again.As Gorman and a second teacher made their way to our young rebel, Rio stood up with a raised fist.“Shame!” Rio called out. A dozen of us followed suit. Teachers flooded off the stage but Cappadocia figured out that if you joined up with other girls and linked arms, they couldn't drag you out.Girls were screaming at girls, shoving began, and soon blows were being exchanged and Assembly degenerated to a nasty furball. We were threatened with demerits, detention, and finally expulsion, but nothing seemed to curtail the conflict. I saw Ms. Goodswell leave the melee and go to the base of the podium and begin to plead with Bass about something.I could see that Goodswell was trying to get the Chancellor to let Christina come onto the stage and quiet her followers but our Glorious Leader wouldn't budge. Christina could see the gestures and I knew she was about to end things anyway. There was something I had to do before things fell apart.I leapt up and began using the backs and arm rests to jump across the crowd. I made it to Millicent right ahead of Gorman. Millicent seemed stunned to see me hovering over her but it was too noisy to communicate. I pulled her up and retreated back the way I'd come, keeping her out of Gorman's clutches for the moment.“Thanks,” she grinned at me.“Who is your Spiritual Advisor?” I responded. “We need to get you to her so you don't face the Chancellor alone.”“Ms. Trenton,” Millicent responded.Ms. Trenton wasn't one of the 'good guys' but she wasn't on our enemies list either. I located Trenton and angled us toward her.“This is crazy,” Millicent gasped. After all, if we tumbled, we might very well break our necks. Ms. Trenton didn't look happy to see either one of us but she immediately clued into why I was dropping her student off on her. She grabbed Millicent by the arm and led her away. This was a good thing because our rebellion was about spent for the moment.A minute later we had quieted down. Dr. Bass threatened us with a whole new series of punishments before exiling us off to our first classes. I had the joy of getting hate blasted my way by both the Chancellor and Coach Gorman. I didn't have long to dwell on it because the moment we stepped out, a new group of upperclassmen descended on us freshmen.“Walk the other way or I'll feed you your lungs,” growled Rio as she stepped in front of a group of us and stared down a slightly larger group of students. At times like this, I really wish Rio knew how to fight. On the other hand, she plays 'crazy' real well and it takes a certain desire to experience pain to conf

Preacher William, Valerie, & the seeds of discord. (Part 11)- A Spring Break 13-part Novel.Christina's late night visit.By FinalStand. The player above contains the intro section. Listen to the complete episode by clicking here, at Steamy Stories. Anyway, we were uncoiling from the sofa and Rio was giving me this mysterious look when there was a knock at the door.“Dude, it is 11 o'clock,” Rio muttered. “Only bad news arrives this late.”“I'll go check it out,” I shrugged. There wasn't much else I could do. I opened the door and there stood Christina, looking pretty depressed.“Do you want to come in?” I asked.“I know you have company,” she replied. “Can we talk outside?” It wasn't too chilly but I wasn't wearing too much either.“Of course,” I walked onto the porch, leaving the door mostly closed behind me. “What's wrong?”“I've worked things out with Faith and the other girls,” Christina paced nervously. “We are all going to keep quiet about what you learned and see how we can turn this to our advantage.” I didn't say anything because she hadn't come to tell me the news of what had been the obvious move on her part so I was left wondering what was going on, then I saw it.I opened my arms to the side, palms forward, and waited. She saw the move and looked me over with obvious reluctance for what would come next. Finally, she stepped up to me and rested her forehead on my shoulder and let me encase her in my arms. It sucks to be alone, but it truly sucks being alone and being the one in charge even more.“God, Zane, I fucked up. I could have ruined Heaven's life,” she sighed. “The others trusted me and I let them down.”“You are not doing Heaven any favors by being paralyzed with doubt,” I told her. “You had no idea who you were up against and even if you had, you would still have weighed what was best for Heaven against the risks and pretty much acted in the same manner.”“You don't understand Heaven,” Christina said. “You don't understand her home life.”“Her home life is not my concern, Christina,” I pointed out. “The Heaven here and now is my concern, though, and it is the concern of several more friends she's made since coming to this school, friends she wouldn't have if she stayed in a hole.”“What if I fuck up again?” she worried. “So many girls are depending on me to keep the Chancellor at bay.”“I fuck up all the time and I'm still here,” I countered. “I know what you mean, though. Sometimes when these girls look at me like they expect me to have all the answers and I've got nothing, I want to run and hide.”“We don't have that luxury. We chose to stand up and now we must carry on in our struggle. I don't know about you, but I wasn't raised to quit,” I related to her.“I made a mistake, Zane. I don't make mistakes,” she declared.“I'm confused; have we lost?” I questioned her.“No,” she grumbled, “and that is not what I meant. I brought Faith in, I misread her, and we all suffered because of it. I was deceived.”“Well, someone should remind Christina Buchanan from time to time that she's human, and a pretty smart woman at that,” I replied. “You don't have to win every battle, only the last one.”“That is what my grandfather said,” she mumbled into my shoulder.“He sounds like a clever guy,” I said softly. “He should go far someday.” Since he was one of the richest men in America, I was probably right.“You can be a real jerk at times,” she muttered, but I noted she wasn't moving.“I have to agree with you,” I said, as I got up on my tiptoes and kissed her on the top of the head. I leaned back and tilted her head to me with a finger under her chin. “Christina Buchanan, would you marry me?” No one said anything for a minute.“Can I think about it?” she finally whispered.“Of course,” I assured her. “How could I be in love with you if I couldn't wait for you?”“How can you love me when you don't even know me?” she asked.“That's why it is love and not like,” I answered. “There are times you really piss me off but there is never a moment I don't want to be with you.”“You don't like me?” Christina studied me.“Right now I like you just fine, but you can be a real pain at times. See, I know what's right and you refuse to know your place,” I responded.“And what place is that?” she smiled.“Above me, smiling down,” I leaned in for a kiss.“No,” she shook her head.“No?” I pleaded.“We have a long way to go before I let you treat me like another one of your girls,” Christina informed me.“Okay,” I agreed.“No hard sell in my emotionally vulnerable state?” she mused.“You are safe with me, Christina,” I assured her.“That's good to know, Zane. Now go inside before Rio blows a gasket,” she smiled, slipped out of my arms, and walked toward her car. I still soaked up the marvel of her receding silhouette.Rio was leaning against the wall just inside the hallway when I got back in.“I don't get the two of you,” she grinned.“I love her,” was my only response.“That's good, because she's fucking nuts about you,” Rio laughed. I couldn't decide whether she was kidding or not.Later, we lay together in bed, Rio partially over me where she alternated between listening to my heartbeat and kissing my shoulder. She also had a hand between her legs and was doing some serious vaginal stimulation.“Zane.”“Yes?” I replied.“I had an abortion,” she confided in me.“Oh, okay,” was all I could manage to come back with.“‘Oh.' Is that it?” she sounded a bit hurt.“I figure there is more to the story than you had an abortion. So are you going to tell me what it is?” I inquired. She mulled that over for a few seconds.“I did some really stupid shit, like getting shit-faced drunk at some parties with people I barely knew, and pretty much got used like a whore. I didn't really care, and eventually I got knocked up,” she told me.“My parents, the big Pro-Lifers that they were, smuggled me out of state to a private clinic and aborted the kid. They never asked my opinion on the matter but I imagine that having a pregnant daughter who couldn't even name the father wasn't on their agenda,” she recited bitterly. I wrapped an arm around her, rolled over on her, and kissed her gently on the lips.“I don't know what to say,” I began. “I can't imagine what it was like to go through that.”“Huh,” Rio snorted. “My parents slapped me with anti-depressants and an implant, my ‘friends' told me it was for the best, not being teen Mom material and all, and I treated myself like a whore.”“Hell, I sucked and fucked the entire lawn crew once; I fucked my little brother's friends; and I became known as the girl who would ride bareback at my school. It is a miracle I didn't contract herpes or AIDS,” she recited sadly. “I think I hated just about everybody.”“You know that none of that matters to me; right?” I asked. “You are still that woman I woke up next to on day one.”“To the bitter end,” she recited.“To the bitter end,” I affirmed, my promise to stand by her no matter what.“Why couldn't you be in love with me?” she sighed.“You are asking an eighteen-year-old how this love thing works?” I teased her. “I've been lucky enough to meet five women in the past two weeks I'd like to spend forever with, and I love the one I'm least likely to end up with. I'm clueless.”“Me, Iona, Barbie Lynn, Christina and Heaven?” Rio guessed. I nodded, which made her snicker. “You really want to spend forever with Heaven? You are a glutton for punishment.”“Heaven can be really nice,” I defended my girlfriend.“She's got a permanent case of PMS. Hell knows what would happen if she actually had PMS,” Rio teased me back.“So you don't want to spend any more time with her?” I inquired.“Fuck that,” Rio giggled, “I like them brave, bold, and saucy in the saddle. I'd love breaking her down, or having her break me trying.”“Fine,” I announced after a moment's contemplation.“Fine?” she asked.“I'm not going to break my word to Jill but I can't wait to fuck you until we get back to campus, so how would you like to screw on Pastor Bill's desk before Sunday school?” I suggested.“I'd love to leave a little something extra on that gold-plated conman's desk,” Rio purred.“Now, Zane, do you think you could bend the rules ever so slightly and finger-fuck me? I'm ever so horny,” Rio pleaded. I figured it couldn't hurt too much; right? I rubbed and rubbed one hand down to her crotch where Rio had already pulled her soaked panties down to mid-thigh. With my other hand, I pushed up her top, exposing her ripe nipples, chain and all.I plucked a nipple into my mouth, letting my tongue play along the stud before sucking in more of the breast, increasing the pressure on the nipple itself. Rio was well worked up already and now began to writhe beneath me. My free hand passed below her carefully groomed chevron-shaped pubic mound and along her clit.Her folds welcomed me like molten gold, so hot yet silky smooth to the touch. As she started to moan, Rio stuck the meat of her palm into her mouth and bit down in order to keep quiet. I spent a minute playing with her two studs in her labia before working two fingers deep inside her, twisting them, and seeking out her G-spot.“Gak!” Rio convulsed as I stroked it. Oh, yeah, I thought, as I began to seriously work it over. Rio's fluids were sloshing around my fingers, her other hand began pressing my whole mouth over her breast, and she kept bucking up against me. I now began to alternate between rhythmically tapping her special place and brutally finger fucking her, driving two fingers in and slapping her clit with my palm.“Uh, uh, uh, ugh, ugh, um,” Rio began panting, then her body arched and she screamed into her clenched fist. “Oh, fuck, that's good,” she finally managed to get out. Before I could respond, she grabbed my head and drew me up for a fierce kiss. She tore at my lips and tried to steal my breath away.“Tell me you want me,” she pleaded with a desperate hunger tinged with fear.“I want you, Rio, always,” I responded with my own heat and need. Slowly the passion ebbed from Rio's eyes and a playful demeanor replaced it.“You are such a dumb blonde, Glenda,” she sighed happily. Glenda had been the name that had allowed me admission to school in the first place, Glenn Zane Braxton, Glenda.I answered by pulling my fingers out of her cunt, taking a lick, then pushing them through her lips. Rio daintily sucked on them, pulling them in and cleaning them off before biting down like the little bitch she is and making tears come to my eyes.“What the fuck!” I hissed.“That's for not giving me your dick, Asshole,” she snickered. When I looked ready to explode, she pouted her lips, rolled onto her stomach and stuck her bare ass up in the air for a spanking. I grunted and rolled over onto my side, away from her.“Good night, you witch,” I sulked.There was some rustling behind me a minute later, then Rio snaked an arm around me and pressed her body to my back.“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I act crazy at times.” I rolled over to face her.“I know what I'm getting into, Rio,” I comforted her. “That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt at times.” I displayed my wounded fingers. She kissed my fingers, I kissed her lips, and we both finally went to sleep.Preacher William, Valerie, and the seeds of discord.*You can live without freedom the same way you can live without light, happiness, or music*Jill didn't know what to make of our prompt appearance Sunday morning for breakfast already dressed for church. I'd convinced Rio to not try a hard sell with my aunt, instead playing it calm, cool, and collected. The real reason we wanted to get to church early was because I'd come up with the idea of screwing Rio on Pastor Bill's massive mahogany desk before class and she'd become infatuated with the scheme.GAINING DEFINITIONWe had to remember our Bibles before eagerly heading out the door. Mine went back to my missionary days while Rio's was brand new, a gift from Jill. She'd lost her old one on the trip from Arizona to Virginia, or so she'd told Jill. In reality, she had torn hers apart page by page and stuffed it down the airplane toilet during the flight, her way of spreading the gospel.Once at the church, we split up, Rio and I getting together a few minutes later. I was unsure about the security cameras in the hallway but Rio shrugged it off. She followed the wires to the closet the system was kept in, picked the lock, and deleted the last two hours of footage before deactivating the whole system.I was clever enough to wipe off all our fingerprints before we made for the pastor's office. This time, Rio's improvised, lock picks weren't necessary as the secretary kept the door unlocked. We slipped past her station to the larger office beyond and I chased Rio around to the 'big chair'.“So, Bad Boy, are you going to make me a Bad Girl?” Rio taunted me.I stepped up between her thighs and got ready to feast on her succulent cunt lips when she held me up.“I don't think we have time for that,” Rio grinned. She slipped out of her panties, which I quickly pocketed (having learned from the first Barbie Lynn incident), and hopped up on the desk facing me.I unbuckled my belt, fixed the button, and unzipped my pants. My penis came smoothly out of my boxers and I lined up with Rio's slit. Her juices were already flowing by the time my cockhead graced her full lips.“Oh, that's what I've been looking for,” Rio moaned, as I pushed forward inch after glorious inch inside her.She wrapped her arms around my neck and came close to doing the same with her legs around my waist by the time I was fully into her. I got a few half-thrusts into Rio, our faces only inches apart, when I began to push her back down on the desk.“No, I want to look into your eyes,” she told me. I nodded and started driving my cock in a strong steady rhythm.“Rio,” I said softly.“Yes,” she breathed heavily.“I like saying your name,” I explained. “I like the sound of it and the way it makes me feel.”“I, ” I was sure she was fighting for a snarky reply but then she smiled and said, “Okay.”“Oh. God, Oh, Fuck,” Rio gasped, as we began, getting her close to climax. I stopped when I first heard the voices. “What?” Rio panted. I pulled her off the desk and looked for a place to hide. There were three other doors out of the room. I took the closest, yanked up my pants, and dragged Rio to it.It turned out to be a large closet with vestments, coats, and a few changes of clothing inside. Before I could finish shutting the door, Rio put her hand in the way. Before I could inquire why, the main office door opened and in came Pastor Bill and Lance Wellington. They were yammering on about something or other; I really wasn't paying attention.All that changed after Pastor Bill took his seat behind the desk and swiveled it to the side. Lance came around the desk and knelt before our spiritual leader. His body blocked my visual but I heard a zipper being undone and some clothes being pushed aside. What Lance proceeded to do was clear enough, though.Rio was between me and the door; she looked over her shoulder and grinned evilly. Before long, she had my cock in her hand and was maneuvering it back to her pussy from behind. I moved my hips down, she arched up, and I slipped back into the hole I'd been in not a minute before. I stayed still while Rio began to ride my cock up and down.There we were, two very different couples separated by less than a dozen feet, both fucking in different ways. Lance was giving Pastor Bill oral attention in a manner that dictated long familiarity to not only cock-sucking, but blowing Pastor Bill in particular. Rio had one hand placed against the door sill in order to stop us from spilling out of the closet while the other was tucked against her stomach.The four of us were pushing toward climax but Pastor Bill was the first one to the trigger. I was still feeling the oily smoothness of my cock inside Rio's vagina while rubbing both breasts through her shirt and bra when Lance began chocking and sputtering. The bastard hadn't even warned Lance that he was cumming.Good ole Pastor Bill reached across the desk to grab two Kleenex. As he did so, his other hand came down to rest on a slick spot Rio and I had left on his desk. He looked at his hand with disgust and wiped it off his hand before handing a tissue to Lance.“Get going to class,” Pastor Bill told his cock-sucking companion.“Of course, Pastor William,” Lance responded as he cleaned his face. As he headed to the door, he turned to the preacher.“Do I have to do another marriage counseling session with Felicity? She is so damn annoying,” he whined.“Lance, you are going to have to keep up appearances and that means spending the occasional night with her,” Pastor Bill lectured him. “As distasteful as she is, she is the socially acceptable choice for your spouse if you plan to have a political career.”“I wish this whole marriage thing was over with already,” Lance sighed. “Then I could stick her in the house and get her out of my life.”“Remember, a woman is a duty, but you know how to get your pleasure. Take your pill when you have to lay with her, and if nothing else, use her back door,” he chuckled.“I suppose so,” Lance conceded, “but I'll have to shut her up. She blathers on and on incessantly and her voice is so grating.”“Well,” Pastor Bill laughed, “you can always use her mouth too.” Lance snorted and left the room; Bill followed a minute later.For our part, the whole exchange between Pastor Bill and Lance got Rio hotter and hotter. She was rocketing back against me until I was afraid the slapping of our flesh would alert our host to our presence.Once he was gone, Rio went off.“Fuck me, damn it,” Rio exulted. “I'm going to rape their asses.” I wasn't sure how that would work. It wasn't like Rio's or my word would go all that far. I decided to spin her back around and kick her leg up over my arm so I could fuck her while gazing into her eyes.The first thing I noticed was the sheer joy etched all over her face. The second thing I noted was her phone in hand, set on record. There was going to be some severe damage over this and I had to do damage control, but first I had to screw Rio to orgasm.“Ah, ah, ah,” Rio moaned. “You are churning me up inside, you fucking brute. This is so fucking good.”“And the video?” I inquired.“Fucking brilliant,” she panted, “My best idea yet.” I drilled Rio several more strong strokes and she gripped me tightly and sexually exploded on me. She kept squeezing my cock with her vaginal muscles as I came in her as she was still cresting her wave.“Oh, Zane,” she wept tears of joy on my shoulder, “You make all this other shit bearable.”“No problem, bro,” I sighed happily, “but we need to talk about the video.”“Yeah,” she snorted, “you have a plan. I'm going to bypass me having a temper-tantrum and get straight to you making me happy with how clever you are.”“We find more ways to bring Felicity over to our side, then hit her with this when she's wavering,” I detailed. “We still need credibility and that's going to take Barbie Lynn on our side. Once we get Felicity, we can get Mrs. Wellington too. That gives us access to everyone in the church.”I set Rio onto her feet and handed her panties too her. Rio shimmied into them and grinned.“Now I'm all sloshy inside. Is that thing a damn fire hydrant?”“You weren't complaining a minute ago,” I countered.“I'm not complaining, but all those bitches in class are going to know I've been fucked,” she snickered.“Who are you going to blame?” I wondered.“Pastor William, our glorious shepherd; I can describe just what his cock looks like now,” she grinned manically.“I think we are back to that whole 'credibility' issue,” I reminded her.“You aren't going to let me have any fun,” Rio pouted.“Well, work on this; I'm pretty sure Lance isn't the only guy here that the pastor is using. Lance was a tool, nothing more,” I told her. “It could be fun to find out who his other toys are.”“I hate you for having a better idea than me,” Rio giggled, “but I love your deviant mind more.”“I love you too, Baby,” I said as I brushed her cheek. “Let's get to class before they get to ridicule us for arriving late.” Rio grabbed my hand and sprinted with me out of the office. We were late to class but only just. This time I'd studied so Mr. Coleman wasn't able to humiliate me, though some wise-ass taunted me about being on a women's committee.“Yes, I do,” I confirmed, “and what committee are you on?”“Athletics committee,” he sneered. I gave him a shit-eating grin right back that gave him pause.“So I hang out with a bunch of MILF's, which is a pretty red-blooded American male thing to do, while you hang out with a bunch of guys, which is pretty homo-erotic,” I chuckled.There was a deafening silence in the room. We had broken up for church service and a few guys were almost out the door. The target of my aggression was first stunned, then angry.“Mr. Braxton, that is quite enough out of you,” Mr. Coleman snapped.“I'm sorry about that, Mr. Coleman. I thought he was ribbing me about my committee so I teased him back about his; I wasn't serious,” I lied.Andy, the guy who'd given me a hard time, elected that moment to get in my face.“That wasn't funny, Braxton,” he snapped. Mr. Coleman remained conspicuously silent.“Gosh, Andy,” I quipped, “I don't know where to begin. How about, we are in a House of God and shouldn't be raising a fist against one another.”“If that doesn't work, do understand that you get the first punch, then I break you like a twig,” I continued with eagerness written all over my face. “You are an elementary school teacher and I have years of martial arts experience.” Andy suddenly paled.“Mr. Braxton,” Coleman growled again. “How dare you threaten somebody?”“Um, Mr. Coleman, Andy got in my face, so what exactly are you getting on my case about? Wouldn't the situation be better served if you stopped him in the first place?” I said.“Andy should be able to take a joke better,” another guy in my class, Christopher Gilbert, joined in. “Besides, Zane's right; the wives on the committee are attractive and their husbands are lucky men.”That seemed to end the matter because Chris Gilbert was the son of somebody and carried weight in this crowd. We continued to depart but I felt obliged to stop Chris.“Thanks, but I'm not sure why you just backed me up there,” I questioned.“Maybe you're not such a bad guy,” he grinned.I had to think that over. I barely knew Christopher Gilbert. He was 23, son of a big real estate guy, he was a property manager, whatever that was.“I have to appreciate the timing of your epiphany,” I joked.“It came to me late Thursday night when I had a security issue at one of my properties,” he grinned. Oh, crap. His daddy must own the mall where I had that little altercation.“Sorry if I cost you a good night's sleep,” was all I could say.“Let me say that, 'damn, you're fast,' and it would have been mean of me to let Andy get his ass handed to him in front of all his friends,” Chris related. “He's really not a bad guy either.”“I'll keep that in mind,” I nodded.We were making our way to the church hall when Rio, Iona, and Barbie Lynn intercepted us.“Hey, Ms. Masters,” Chris said to Barbie Lynn. He looked at the other two girls.“Christopher Gilbert, this is Rio Talon and Iona Becket, two of my classmates and closest friends,” I introduced my buddies.“So, Chris, how do you know Barbie-licious?” Rio smirked.“Huh?” Chris said.“Rio has an intense sense of humor, Chris,” I intervened. “Pay her no mind.” Before Rio cold make things worse, I placed an arm behind her and pinched her butt. “Behave,” I warned her.“Okay, Zane,” Chris chuckled. “Good luck with that one. To answer your question: I know Ms. Masters from a few years back at a youth retreat. We were both counselors. Take care now.” He turned and walked off to his section of the tabernacle while the girls and I went off to ours.“So, Barbie, were you hot for Chris back at camp?” Rio persisted.“Chris? Nah, he had a girlfriend back then; they both went to the University of Virginia. I think they broke up right before they graduated but I'm not sure,” Barbie Lynn informed us. “Besides, I had a fiancé too.”“Had? Have you tossed him over for Zane?” Rio teased. I sighed and Barbie Lynn blushed.“Nah, Shugah, I tossed him over for you,” Barbie Lynn whispered into Rio's ear.“Just for that tantalizing tease, no Honey Glaze for those hot crossed buns of yours,” Rio bantered right back.“Am I the only one who remembers we are in a church?” lectured Iona.“No, you are not,” Christina surprised us. “Now stop trying to make a scene and sit down with the rest of us.” We dutifully obeyed because three of us respected Christina and I had one of Rio's arms twisted behind her back.At the end of service there was no problem getting the gang to go down to the space between the pews and the podium where the important people gathered. I caught Pastor William shooting me a hooded look but I blew him off. I was here for someone else, as was Barbie Lynn and Rio. Iona was tagging along to make sure we kept out of too much trouble.“Hey, Sahara,” I greeted the pastor's wife, who hovered near but wasn't part of the action.“Why, hello, Zane,” she smiled. “Did you enjoy the service?”“I'm still a little fuzzy on the message of seeking wisdom in God's word instead of Man's technology,” I grinned. “After all, I have an app that gives me helpful Bible verses on demand.”“I think you missed the point, Zane,” she shook her head with mirth. “We need to trust the Word of God over the simple technological solutions that fail to take in the moral implications of the results.”“Wow, when you say it that way, it makes sense,” I applauded. Sahara blushed and gave me another smile.Rio and Barbie Lynn had closed in on Felicity, allowing Iona and I to come up behind Mrs. Wellington. I put my hand on the small of her back and positioned myself at her side.“Hello, Mrs. Wellington,” I greeted her. I knew her first look at me would define a lot about how she felt about last night.“Zane,” she beamed at me. “How are you doing today?”“Better now,” I grinned. “I just wanted to say that I'm downloading those files we discussed when I get to campus this afternoon.”“Oh,” Mrs. Bainbridge sneered, “is Mr. Braxton working on a special project already?”“Zane,” Rochelle Wellington smiled to her rival sweetly, “send Kendra a copy of the notes you showed me. Kendra, Zane has a talent for 3-D imagery that the committee will find quite useful. I thought you might find it nice to have our newest member showing some interest.”“Oh, it is his interest that I'm worried about,” Kendra commented, with a pretty obvious look toward Sahara.Before I could respond to that jab, I felt a hand on my shoulder trying to pull me around.“Pastor William wants a word with you,” Lance informed me.“Okay,” I shrugged, then turned back to Kendra. “Mrs. Bainbridge, I admit that it is my fault that I find Mrs. Penny to be kinder, more compassionate, and more spiritually understanding than you. She is a gentle soul who better relates to what a young man needs.”“Pastor William wants to see you now,” Lance insisted.“That's nice, Lance. I'm talking to your mother,” I said dismissively. “Rochelle, thank you for agreeing to mentor me; I appreciate you helping me understand this Church and this community by taking some of your valuable time to listen to my ideas.”“Ladies, have a nice Sunday. Okay, Lance, let's go see what Pastor Bill wants now,” I told him.“His name is Pastor William,” Lance corrected me somewhat angrily.“No, his name is William Penny and he happens to be a pastor,” I jibed. Lance's response was stymied by our arrival at Pastor Bill's circle of cronies.“Ah, Glenn,” Bill greeted me. “I would like to invite you to dine with my wife and I tomorrow night.” I was smart enough to know that wasn't really an invitation, but still,“I'd like to but this week is our first round of testing for the semester so I'm not sure I can break free,” I answered.“You find time enough for other things, like jail,” he lectured me in a personally degrading matter.“Pastor William, as you will learn about me, people who cross me or threaten the ones I hold dear, I beat bloody and leave broken on the ground,” I smiled evilly right back. The confusion that threat caused was evident because I hadn't been quiet.“Jesus loves the Peacemaker,” Pastor Bill bantered back.“Winners write the history books,” I countered.“That is not very Christian of you,” Mr. Wellington, the Mayor, pointed out.“Jesus Christ ended up nailed to a cross; Emperor Constantine, who converted the whole Roman Empire to Christ's worship, got to build his own city,” I responded.“I won't be as famous but I'll do more and get to bury my enemies before I die,” I added.“Are you sure you were a missionary in Thailand?” another church elder asked.“Oh, I was a missionary all right, but not a very good one. I left the hard work to my Uncle Tim and Aunt Jill,” I informed them.“Did they convert many heathen souls to the World of our Lord?” a third man inquired.“It is not that simple. They taught people to read English and got them in the practice of reading the Bible,” I explained. “They have over a thousand years of culture to work against and many of the tenants of Buddhism are close to our own Christian virtues so it is hard work.”“So that would be a 'No',” Pastor Bill gloated.“Really?” I grinned. “When Uncle Tim went missing, 200 of his flock risked floodwaters in an eventually futile effort to save him. How many of us would risk drowning to save you, Pastor William? I would say that when lives were on the line, his flock did their Christian duty.”I noticed Jill standing on the edge of the group listening, her eyes close to tears. Hey, I hated Tim, but I wasn't going to let these spineless bastards degrade the man in front of his widow, no matter how I felt.“I'm sure we would all rise to the challenge,” Mr. Wellington pontificated.“Then you are as good a man as Uncle Tim,” I trapped him with his own words.“Your Uncle Tim gave everything, including his life,” Pastor Bill said with a smug, superior smile. “His willingness to give should be an example for all.”“I'm already giving. The Festivities Committee's budget seems a bit anemic so I'm going to be funding some of their efforts,” I enlightened him.“That is not how tithes are normally handled,” Pastor Bill corrected me.“I'm not a normal guy,” I grinned. “Pastor, I'll look over my schedule and call your house to let you know if I can swing dinner tomorrow. It has been a wonderful chat but I have to be going now.”I turned and left them there, confident I hadn't made any friends among Bill's inner circle. The price of their friendship was way more than I was willing to pay and it wasn't just monetary. My girls swarmed around me, even Jill.“Thank you, Zane,” Jill said softly. “Tim would have been proud.”“Jill, I said that for you, not him. You stood by him and that shouldn't be trampled on by people who don't know any better,” I comforted her.“I was getting ready to cry out 'Blood and Souls for my Lord Arioch,” Rio grinned.“Why did you antagonize them?” Iona wondered.“They are used to bullying people and getting their way. I let them know I was more than willing to fight,” I told Iona.“He also wanted the women to see what he was doing,” Barbie Lynn said. “I saw a few females, Felicity included, who thought a great deal of how Zane handled the situation.”“Girls love watching men fight over them,” Rio laughed as we exited into the parking lot.“Is everyone coming to our place for lunch?” Jill asked. I took a quick look around the girls who nodded their approval.“Sure thing, Jill; we will be at home in an hour,” I answered.Getting back to campus and into casual clothes wasn't a problem, nor was lunch with Jill. We sat around and shot the shit for an hour afterwards but school work demanded that we head back to school to do some actual classwork. I went by Raven's to pick her up because she'd left me a text (by way of Iona) that she'd made some progress over the weekend.“We really should study in the library,” Raven told me as we headed to my room.“The last time I checked, the library didn't have a snack bar,” I told her. Raven was less than convinced and a bit nervous until we opened the door to the bottom of the steps leading to the Solarium where I lived and the voices of multiple girls welcomed us.“You have company?” she questioned me.“All freshmen are welcome in my room, Raven. You'll see,” I informed her.“Is there going to be anyplace for us to study, ” Raven began to confound me, then we came to the point where you could see past the side of the stairs into the Solarium.“Oh, God,” she muttered at the scope of the room, “you, you have pool tables!” she ended up in a near squeal. “I love pool!” She took a few steps forward into the room before looking back at me. “What is all this? Where did this all come from?”“I was given the entire Solarium as my room, sort of, and I decided to convert most of it to a common area for the freshman class,” I said.“How long has this been going on?” she wondered.“We did it yesterday,” Iona said from the closest sofa. She put down her laptop and walked over to us. “Zane paid for the stuff and we students put it in. Let me show you around.”“You do that, Iona,” I told her, as I gave my diminutive friend a hug, “I'll be in my room.”Iona led Raven deeper into the complex of entertainment while I headed to my room, which seemed to be the quietest place to study today.ValerieI passed around the Chinese silk screens that shielded my private area from the rest of the Solarium and saw my new monster-sized bed. I also saw the tall, honey-blonde Amazon reclining on it, looking my way.“Come here, my Love-Monkey,” she said in a deep, husky voice. I'm sure my mouth gaped open.“Ah, I don't believe we've been introduced,” I managed to finally say. She smiled and patted the bed beside her.“You are seriously hot and I'm positive I'd remember you if we'd met, but I don't and I do need to study so I'm going to ask you to please leave,” I groaned. “Trust me, I really don't want to be asking you that either.”I heard laughter from the far side of the bed and Rio slowly raised her body into sight.“Bro, the look on your face is priceless,” she chuckled.“So this is really your room?” the other girl inquired.“I told you it was,” Rio grinned.“Yes, it is,” I responded as well. “In fact, this entire floor is mine, mainly because the Administration has nowhere else to stick me.”“Rio, what's going on here?” I turned to my other friend.“Honest, Boss,” she beamed, “I found her when I got home. She's my new dorm mate, your replacement.”“You were her first roommate?” the newcomer asked.“For all of one night,” I confessed. “Then everyone realized she had boobies, and I didn't, and I developed this current life of seclusion.”“This is your version of seclusion?” she questioned.“What can I say?” I sighed. “I'm a man of creature comforts. That still doesn't explain you on my bed. Rio?”“She is Valerie Palmer, a new addition to the school,” Rio started, “but that's not the cool part. She's a member of the Stormriders motorcycle gang.” Seeing my lack of name recognition, Rio added, “They are a big deal in the West, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona, of course.”“Nice to meet you, Valerie.” I knelt on the bed and extended my hand. “I'm Glenn Zane Braxton, but everyone calls me Zane. Welcome to FFU, and what brought you to us?”“Dad is a born-again Christian and he wanted me to come here, so here I am,” she shrugged. Now, to me that made no sense, as she should have been eighteen, thus her own person, but who was I to press into her personal matters.“Damn it, Zane, I keep forgetting you were living in a cave for the past two years,” Rio shook her head. “Her grandfather is Daniel 'Damien' Palmer.” Again, I didn't know who that person was.“My grandfather is doing three life sentences,” Valerie said with a degree of weariness.“Fine. I should take it the Stormriders are not a motorcycle club, then,” I grinned at her.Valerie's eyes and mine locked for several seconds.“Are you arrogant, stupid, or really unconcerned?” Valerie asked me.“A little of all three,” Rio chimed in.“You should never ask a man if he's arrogant because if he is, he won't know it,” I responded.“I'm smart enough to get into this university, but them I'm dumb enough to be the only guy at this university,” I continued. “I can honestly tell you I really don't care who you were before you came here. It is none of my damn business. If you want to be friends, I'm game.” Valerie nodded. “Oh, and Rio is a nutjob, but if you hurt her, I'll make you suffer, I swear it.”“Is that supposed to scare me, rich boy?” Valerie said, becoming very serious and sitting up, “because I'm not impressed.”“I didn't say it to impress you, Valerie,” I met her gaze, “I believe in fair warning. I don't care if you are damaged goods or you are one stone-cold, bad-ass bitch; you mess with Rio and I'll take her pain out of your hide.”“Rio, I thought you told me this guy was cool,” Valerie said to Rio while still looking at me.“Best guy in the whole God-damn world,” Rio beamed.“Zane, have you ever stabbed somebody?” Valerie quizzed me.“On purpose or by accident?” I asked.“How do you stab someone by accident?” Valerie wondered.“You toss their ass into a stand of bamboo so hard the stalks break and they get impaled,” I answered. “I take it you've done it on purpose.” She shrugged.“Do you fight much?” she changed tact.“More than I should,” I replied, “but I butt in where I don't belong too much.”“Me too,” Valerie nodded, “on the 'I fight more than I should' thing.”“Well, I would rather talk shit upfront than spill blood later,” I pointed out.“Like warning me about Rio,” she nodded.“Please believe me, she's a nut and will get on your nerves, so please don't toss her out a window or down the stairs because I'm actually attached to her,” I grinned. Rio flopped on the bed.“I should be mouthing empty denials but Zane's pretty much right,” Rio snickered, “and if he hadn't fucked me silly on the preacher's desk this morning, I'd be in his face about this bullshit.”“You had sex on your preacher's desk?” Valerie smiled.“Zane, what are these girls, what the hell?” Raven went off. “What kind of bedroom is this?”“Raven, you know Rio and this is her new roommate Valerie. Valerie, this is Raven,” I groaned.“Hey, Raven,” Valerie greeted her. “So do you normally walk into Zane's bedroom too?”“No,” Raven blushed. “He invited me over to do some work on our English project.” Iona stepped in behind Raven and waved to Rio.“Iona, Valerie; Valerie, Iona,” I sighed.“Wait!” Valerie raised her hand and looked back to me. “Are you gay? Because I see a lot of girls strolling into your room and none of them have been identified as your girlfriend yet.”“Technically, that would be Heaven,” Iona volunteered. “She's a senior.”“Can we get back to everyone being in Zane's room?” Raven grumbled. “And what is he doing with a bed as big as my entire room back home?” Valerie appraised the room.“Got it,” she laughed. “You are sleeping with her (Iona) and her (Rio), but not you (Raven).”“Of course I'm not sleeping with him,” Raven shot back. “I took a Purity Pledge, as should all of you.”“I'm not a virgin,” Valerie responded.“Me, either,” Rio waved.“I am,” Iona raised her hand.“That's nice,” I directed. “Rio, Valerie, and Iona, please leave. I've invited Raven to my room so we can do actual classwork because I occasionally like to pretend I'm in college for an education.”“On it, Zane,” Rio snickered. “Come on, Valerie, let's go check out the hot tub. I wanted to show you to Zane so he could put you on his 'To Do' list.” Iona shook her head and left.“I've got a boyfriend,” Valerie clarified.“Thank God,” I muttered, which drew looks from all three women. After Rio and Val left, Raven kept staring at me.“I, does this happen to you often?” she finally asked.“Yes, but I've learned to adjust,” I pointed out.We sat down on the bed, Raven pulled out four library books on the period we were looking into, and we began going through them and taking notes.“Is Heaven really your girlfriend?” Raven asked after a while.“Yes, but it is more complicated than that. I love another girl but I don't know if she loves me, and I spend time with a dozen other girls here, plus I have friends at a Sorority House off campus,” I explained.“And you sleep with Rio, who isn't a virgin, and Iona, who is,” she stated, and I confirmed with a nod.“I was wrong. If you can keep all that straight in your head, you have a good grasp of details. We are going to do fine on this term paper.”“Thank you, Raven,” I smiled at her, and for a change, she smiled back.GUST FRONTI would have liked to spend the night with Iona and Barbie Lynn but Iona informed me that Coach Dana Gorman had tested her security code earlier in the day and I figured something was up; nothing good for me and my friends. Sure enough, at 12:10 in the morning, my little buzzer by the bed that informed me that a key code was being entered woke me up.I silenced the alarm (no sense in letting them know that I had it) and waited in bed. Shortly thereafter, the Coach and two female security guards came strolling in.“Alone?” Dana quipped.“You asking me out?” I grinned.“Get up; we need to check the bed, if that is what you call this thing,” she motioned to my sleeping platform. I dutifully got out of bed.“What are you doing?” she snapped when she realized I was naked.“Getting out of bed like you asked me to. I sleep in the nude, or didn't you already know that?” I yawned.“Put some clothes on,” she ordered. I picked up my robe and put it on while they stripped back my sheets and looked for bodily fluids under the dark light. I had been at my Aunt's the past two nights, so yes, my bed was still fresh. Unsatisfied, Dana and her two buddies began roughly going over my place.When they finally discovered nothing (my hiding places were specifically designed), the two officers turned and left.“I'll be keeping an eye on you, Zane. You can expect this to be a regular occurrence,” she promised. I simply stared. We remained looking at one another for a minute because she knew I was up to something.“That's right, step out of line and make my job easier,” she noted. Again I kept my silence. It would have been easy to take this personally but I'd told her this was War and I took that seriously. I doubted I was the sole beneficiary of their attention so I had to get ready to respond to their next move.“Nothing to say?” she asked. I kept staring. “Say something, damn it,” she growled.“Good night, Coach,” I obliged. She shook her head, turned, and walked away. When I saw the door close behind her I went back to my room and took out my phone. I made three calls to the concerned parties and a final call to Iona, to have her wipe my call log. I can't say I slept well that night.Showering in the morning was troublesome enough on normal days but this morning, Rio decided to invite Valerie to join us. I did my best to pretend to ignore her, which wasn't easy. Valerie was around six feet with milky skin where the sun didn't reach and tanned where it did. Her hair was golden-blonde and she was trimmed, not shaved. Her eyes were grey with a hint of blue around the edges; he breasts were a solid C without a hint of sag. There sure were a lot of blondes going to this school.I could see the mental calculations going through her head as she walked in and the other girls eyed her. In the hierarchy of this place, I didn't hold a place; proximity to me showed a girl's status among the crowd. Opal was top dog, but Rio and Iona were marked by their close relationship with me as well.Valerie clearly thought about walking away from it all to spare herself the drama and the grief. She countered that with the knowledge that she had to fit in somewhere in this school, and as non-traditional as she was, her best bet was with us. She answered that internal struggle by taking the shower one down from me, next to Opal.Opal expressed her dominance to Valerie by corralling me into a body massage and a show of mutual affection. I thought Valerie was unimpressed with those actions but as we got into it, I sensed she was intrigued by the notion of having sex without actually having sex, and the sexual arousal that came with it.As I settled in front of the sink to brush my hair, shave, and brush my teeth, Valerie took the sink beside me.“You don't seem to mind all these naked bodies around you,” she noted.“Why should I? I enjoy them and they enjoy me. I like making them happy, and my presence certainly makes their lives more difficult so I'm glad to help,” I explained.“So, do things ever go to the next level?” Valerie asked.“Not here, and not with most of these women; they are virgins and happy about that fact. They want to be virgins on their wedding nights and I respect that,” I answered.“Rio makes you out to be some sort of sex-crazed stud monster,” Val informed me.“Rio's not a virgin and her only plans for marriage involve her being a black widow to her old, rich husbands,” I grinned.“Is she, bi-sexual?” Valerie whispered.“Yes, I can verify that she is,” I replied quietly. “Has she hit on you yet? Wait, silly question, have you thrown her out of your bed yet?”“This morning I found her sucking on my nipple through my nightshirt,” she smirked.“Rio needs constant reminding of where the boundaries are,” I informed Val.“You two talking about me?” Rio came bouncing up. “Is there a three-way in our future? Who gets tied up?” Valerie groaned in response.“Rio, there is such a thing as personal space and acceptable roommate behavior,” I told Rio. “Things like spontaneously feeling her up while she sleeps are BAD!”“God, damn it!” Rio squalled, “But did you see the size of those bad boys? They are huge and puffy and I swear, they were calling out to me across the room.”“In my long and illustrious career with the female nipple, they have never talked to me. If you don't behave, I'm going to have to tie you up at the next orgy and make you watch,” I warned. I couldn't threaten to take away something she had, like her piercings; that would make her dig in her heels. Instead, I went after the things she was looking forward to.“Don't forget to secure her hands over her head so she can't diddle herself,” Valerie got into the sport of things.“Good point,” I agreed.“Major buzz-kill, you two. Valerie, you are trying to make your first day here no fun at all,” Rio teased.“Which reminds me; Valerie, has Rio warned you about Handmaiden's Duty?” I inquired. Rio looked offended that I would say such a thing while Val looked confused.“It is a tradition here that requires all freshmen to perform a task of a non-damaging nature for any and all upperclassmen. They cannot grab you in class or a dorm room, but anywhere else is fair game,” I informed her.“My first task was to be a bench for someone to sit on,” Rio grinned.“Mine was to kiss a girl,” I nodded.“Kiss her? Cordelia damn near passed out, you kissed her so long and deep,” Rio teased me.“The first one was very nice and chaste,” Iona stepped up and added. “It was the second one that curled her toes and started the stampeded on Zane.”“What do I do if a girl asks me to kiss her?” Valerie worried.“Tell her you are waiting for your herpes to clear up,” Rio volunteered.“It isn't likely to happen,” Iona came across with sounder advice. “Homosexuality is frowned on at this campus.”“I'd tell you to kiss them and enjoy the moment, but I'm a guy,” I shrugged.“I'm still not sure what is normal for this place,” Valerie related.“Rio and Zane are aberrations,” Iona offered. “Most of the girls here are fundamentalist Christian virgins who are looking to get married once they graduate this place.”“What is your story?” Val asked Iona.“I was pretty much the girl I just described until I met these two,” she smiled. “Now I feel that I have, options.”“Options like prison time,” Rio laughed, “or becoming a sex toy at an S&M club.”“I was thinking more like taking a summer and roaming the country,” Iona glared Rio.“Maybe I could teach you to ride a motorcycle and you can come with me,” Valerie offered.“That would be wonderful!” Iona brightened up. “When could we start?”“This afternoon, if you like,” Val responded. “My ride is in the parking lot.”“You have a motorcycle, here?” Rio exclaimed.“Rio, it is hard to be in a motorcycle gang without a chopper,” Valerie pointed out.“On that note, I have to go,” I sighed. New girls were starting to migrate in, meaning I had to retreat to my room. “Take care, everyone.”The crapstormThe crapstorm fell on us as we left the dorm. All kinds of upperclassmen snatched up freshmen as they appeared and shadowed Pro-Christina students they couldn't grab. Rio and I were able to shove off of Valerie before she was identified as being with one of us, so she made it to the Dining Hall unmolested.I didn't have to do anything too heinous, carry three backpacks while reciting the Gospel of Luke from memory (ugh). They made Rio sing 'Onward Christian Soldier' because it was the only religious song she'd admit to knowing. She did a horrific hack-job of it too. They had Iona going through the descendants of Noah; she knocked them back flawlessly, Brainiac.It got better at the Dining Hall door where Rhaine oversaw the removal of every electronic device from the incoming students, no phones, tablets or laptops, nothing capable of rapid communication. Then came the assigned seating designed to break us all up. Surprisingly, Valerie looped back around and joined us in the line.She leaned into me.“What the fuck is going on?” she whispered.“There is a war going on between the Pro-Christina faction Rio, Iona and I belong to, and the Pro-Rhaine faction, which is supported by the Administration. I didn't want to get you involved,” I explained as I saw Mrs. Marlowe closing in.“Mr. Braxton, be quiet,” she snapped.“Of course, Ms. Marlowe,” I nodded to her; she glared back. We had assigned seating for breakfast, isolating us. Conversations were kept to a minimum by roving teachers and the mood was getting grim, made worse by a slow drizzle that began to fall outside. Still, things weren't hopeless.As I was putting my food tray away, Paige of the Science Club slipped past me.“Copper Seven,” she whispered.Cordelia, head of the Science Club, was definitely the smartest person on campus. She'd created a list of contingency plans for us to use if things went bad. We should have been getting them on our phones but the Chancellor had stymied us there.Instead, things were circulating by word of mouth. In this case, Copper Seven, things were simple. Copper meant theft and Seven was the code for communications. We were stealing the facility's phones, crashing their computers, and doing whatever mischief we could to make communications difficult, if not impossible.I had the pleasure of passing the word on to Rio, who gave me a look that would have made any brigand with a handful of gold proud. I didn't know the specifics of Rio's criminal history but I knew she definitely had one, and I'd have been stunned if pickpocket and shoplifting weren't part of her repertoire. I'd warned Coach Gorman about making shit like this fascist suppression policy up.I barely recalled what I was forced to perform on the way to Assembly because what happened there was so memorable. We got the standard lecture, then the Chancellor laid into Christina for all the disruptions the student body was going through, Christina and a few other malcontents. What made it memorable was, at the end of Dr. Bass's speech, a freshman I barely knew, Millicent Pierce, stood up and raised her fist in defiance.“That's bullshit!” she cried out.“Sit down and be quiet, child!” the Chancellor commanded. “Coach Gorman,” she then directed our head of security toward the young girl. Millicent wasn't done yet.“You are lying to us!” she screamed out again.As Gorman and a second teacher made their way to our young rebel, Rio stood up with a raised fist.“Shame!” Rio called out. A dozen of us followed suit. Teachers flooded off the stage but Cappadocia figured out that if you joined up with other girls and linked arms, they couldn't drag you out.Girls were screaming at girls, shoving began, and soon blows were being exchanged and Assembly degenerated to a nasty furball. We were threatened with demerits, detention, and finally expulsion, but nothing seemed to curtail the conflict. I saw Ms. Goodswell leave the melee and go to the base of the podium and begin to plead with Bass about something.I could see that Goodswell was trying to get the Chancellor to let Christina come onto the stage and quiet her followers but our Glorious Leader wouldn't budge. Christina could see the gestures and I knew she was about to end things anyway. There was something I had to do before things fell apart.I leapt up and began using the backs and arm rests to jump across the crowd. I made it to Millicent right ahead of Gorman. Millicent seemed stunned to see me hovering over her but it was too noisy to communicate. I pulled her up and retreated back the way I'd come, keeping her out of Gorman's clutches for the moment.“Thanks,” she grinned at me.“Who is your Spiritual Advisor?” I responded. “We need to get you to her so you don't face the Chancellor alone.”“Ms. Trenton,” Millicent responded.Ms. Trenton wasn't one of the 'good guys' but she wasn't on our enemies list either. I located Trenton and angled us toward her.“This is crazy,” Millicent gasped. After all, if we tumbled, we might very well break our necks. Ms. Trenton didn't look happy to see either one of us but she immediately clued into why I was dropping her student off on her. She grabbed Millicent by the arm and led her away. This was a good thing because our rebellion was about spent for the moment.A minute later we had quieted down. Dr. Bass threatened us with a whole new series of punishments before exiling us off to our first classes. I had the joy of getting hate blasted my way by both the Chancellor and Coach Gorman. I didn't have long to dwell on it because the moment we stepped out, a new group of upperclassmen descended on us freshmen.“Walk the other way or I'll feed you your lungs,” growled Rio as she stepped in front of a group of us and stared down a slightly larger group of students. At times like this, I really wish Rio knew how to fight. On the other hand, she plays 'crazy' real well and it takes a certain desire to experience pain to conf

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Meet Andie Monet who, at the age of 16, was totally abandoned by her mother and left homeless to fend for herself. None of that stopped Andie who went on to college, developed a strong personal feeling of self-worth and grew to be an expert in business development. Andie will share with you some of her processes she has used to improve large and small businesses alike. Unbidden she will even discuss persons with disabilities in the workplace.   I believe this episode of Unstoppable Mindset is extremely poignant in today's business world. Andie offers thoughts and lessons we all can use in businesses and our personal lives as well. Please listen and then please let me know what you think by emailing me at michaelhi@accessibe.com. I hope you enjoy today's episode and that you will give it a 5 rating.   About the Guest: With humble beginnings of a homeless 16-year-old to eventually become a Business Optimization Expert, Andie Monet has advised Fortune 500 corporations, small businesses and foreign and domestic governments for over 3 decades in 13 countries and 22 industries.  She teaches about strategic business growth principles without adding new costs.  But more importantly, she advocates and teaches about what true leadership and howe we all can make a difference in the world. https://www.linkedin.com/in/andiemonet-ssd www.AndieMonet.com         About the Host: Michael Hingson is a New York Times best-selling author, international lecturer, and Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe. Michael, blind since birth, survived the 9/11 attacks with the help of his guide dog Roselle. This story is the subject of his best-selling book, Thunder Dog.   Michael gives over 100 presentations around the world each year speaking to influential groups such as Exxon Mobile, AT&T, Federal Express, Scripps College, Rutgers University, Children's Hospital, and the American Red Cross just to name a few. He is Ambassador for the National Braille Literacy Campaign for the National Federation of the Blind and also serves as Ambassador for the American Humane Association's 2012 Hero Dog Awards.   https://michaelhingson.com https://www.facebook.com/michael.hingson.author.speaker/ https://twitter.com/mhingson https://www.youtube.com/user/mhingson https://www.linkedin.com/in/michaelhingson/   accessiBe Links https://accessibe.com/ https://www.youtube.com/c/accessiBe https://www.linkedin.com/company/accessibe/mycompany/ https://www.facebook.com/accessibe/       Thanks for listening! Thanks so much for listening to our podcast! If you enjoyed this episode and think that others could benefit from listening, please share it using the social media buttons on this page. Do you have some feedback or questions about this episode? Leave a comment in the section below!   Subscribe to the podcast If you would like to get automatic updates of new podcast episodes, you can subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts or Stitcher. You can also subscribe in your favorite podcast app.   Leave us an Apple Podcasts review Ratings and reviews from our listeners are extremely valuable to us and greatly appreciated. They help our podcast rank higher on Apple Podcasts, which exposes our show to more awesome listeners like you. If you have a minute, please leave an honest review on Apple Podcasts.     Transcription Notes* Michael Hingson  00:00 Access Cast and accessiBe Initiative presents Unstoppable Mindset. The podcast where inclusion, diversity and the unexpected meet. Hi, I'm Michael Hingson, Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe and the author of the number one New York Times bestselling book, Thunder dog, the story of a blind man, his guide dog and the triumph of trust. Thanks for joining me on my podcast as we explore our own blinding fears of inclusion unacceptance and our resistance to change. We will discover the idea that no matter the situation, or the people we encounter, our own fears, and prejudices often are our strongest barriers to moving forward. The unstoppable mindset podcast is sponsored by accessiBe, that's a c c e s s i  capital B e. Visit www.accessibe.com to learn how you can make your website accessible for persons with disabilities. And to help make the internet fully inclusive by the year 2025. Glad you dropped by we're happy to meet you and to have you here with us.   Michael Hingson  01:20 Welcome to unstoppable mindset. And we're back once again. And we are glad that you're here. Wherever you may be. We hope that you enjoy our podcast today we are going to have some fun talking about a variety of subjects. We have a guest I'm gonna let you introduce yourself and tell us a little bit about you.   Andie Monet  01:40 Absolutely. I'm super excited to be here, Michael. And my name is Andy Monet and I am a business Optimation optimization expert you would think I'd actually be able to shave   Michael Hingson  01:53 he talks well too, doesn't she?   Andie Monet  01:57 It's easy to write on paper. Sometimes it's harder to say. Yes. And I just I love everything about you, Michael, your podcast, your your mindset. You're just you're amazing. And I'm super honored to be here today.   Michael Hingson  02:13 Let's start with you. So obviously, where do you live? Where are you located?   Andie Monet  02:20 I am outside Houston, Texas. I'm actually not from Houston or Texas. Well, my dad's from Texas, but I grew up in California and then moved where East Coast. I'm mostly Northern California, San Francisco Bay area. But I also lived in Southern California.   Michael Hingson  02:39 We lived in Novato for 12 years.   Andie Monet  02:42 Oh my gosh. That's where I'm from. Not in Nevada specifically but Morgan County. Yes, I love it.   Michael Hingson  02:47 And now we're in Victorville. So we're in Southern California.   Andie Monet  02:51 Oh, see you did the same thing. Victor reals. Beautiful though.   Michael Hingson  02:54 I grew up. I grew up in Palmdale. And then I went to the east coast and live there for a while. Where were you on the east coast   Andie Monet  03:01 of Virginia, primarily. DC area   Michael Hingson  03:04 north. I lived in Boston for three years. And I learned to say things like packet con. Yeah, you gotta say my son was on a subway with a little six year old girl who was near us. And she had the cutest Massachusetts accent. Oh my gosh, I love it. And then we also lived in New Jersey for six years, which is where we got pretty visible because of all the stuff that happened with the World Trade Center being on the seventh floor and all that, but Oh, my. Then we moved back out to California. We're in Novato. Now. We're down here in Victorville. And it's supposed to actually get up to 83 degrees today.   Andie Monet  03:42 Yeah, and it gets hotter than that in the summer for sure.   Michael Hingson  03:46 does get hot down in Texas, too.   Andie Monet  03:49 Yes. That's why everyone lives indoors.   Michael Hingson  03:53 Yeah, absolutely true. Tell me a little bit about kind of your early years and all that stuff.   Andie Monet  04:00 Yeah, well, I? Well, I'm not sure how early I should start. So I won't start too early. It'll be too long of a podcast. But what the the highlight, quote unquote, is when I was 16 years old, I found myself homeless because my single mom abandoned me. And all of a sudden, I had to figure out life very, very, very quickly. And I tell that because the two things that I learned at that literally within 24 hours of that event was one, I had to I was responsible for my own success, whatever that even meant, at that time or in the future, right? And to what action would I take today to get closer to that, to that success? And I say that because at that time, whether you're 16 or 30 or 90 or however whatever age you are, if you're homeless, the first thing you have to do is figure out what to do next. Right. And that obviously means finding a place to sleep. And so the action, like my success, and I'm being sarcastic, but truthful, at the same time is my success was finding a place to live. And where was I going to do that? And I had to do it today. Right? I couldn't do it next week, or next month or next year, right? Like I needed to figure out where I was going to live today. And, you know, at that time, unfortunately, it was, you know, in the bushes and underneath decks and things like that, and the laundromat a few times. But what I learned and what I was really grateful about that this really gave me the tools to create magic in my life that I knew if I wanted to anything could be created.   Michael Hingson  05:49 And that's an interesting way to put it magic in your life. We oftentimes lose sight of the magic. Oh, yes, definitely. It is so hard to just imagine, though, being abandoned, all of a sudden, it's 16, or whatever, I guess, in one sense, it was good. At least you were already 16 and had some maturity behind you. But that's just a strange and hard concept to imagine, for most of us.   Andie Monet  06:17 Yeah, it is, I had one person say, he ran away from home for one night, and he slept on a park bench. And he said that was the most miserable time in his in his entire life. And he couldn't imagine even without, you know, one example of doing it, and, and I laugh only because, you know, I think that we, if you I have the opinion that we don't always make the choices we have we want to make, but we make the choices we have to do when you know push comes to shove. Right? And so what I have ever left home at 16 know what, who knows when I would have left and my mom was? We don't know for sure, but that her sisters say she was bipolar? And maybe she was but either way, there was something wrong there. Right? And would I have continued to stay in that physically in an emotionally abusive household? At, you know, how long would I have stayed? And I don't know the answer to that. But in a in a really twisted kind of a way is the universe had a different plan for me. And maybe it would have been worse? I don't know. But I was even though the whole homeless thing happened with what I always think. And I keep jumping around. I apologize, because I kind of get excited about talking about this is that you know, that whole saying about is your glass half full or half empty? And my glass is always overfilling regardless of the situation. And so in the homeless thing? Yes. Would I ever do it again? Absolutely not. Do you know what I have changed things if I could have Yes, but the glass overflowing is I was in a really good County, there was hardly any crime. I was completely safe. I mean, in retrospect, at the time, I was terrified. I was safe. And I and I live in such a great County, that there was always going to be opportunity. And I grew up with people, not only not my friends, but my friends, families where I saw success. I saw business owners, I saw people, you know, my best friend's father was on the cover of Forbes magazine twice. You know, I grew up with a lot of Hollywood musicians and actors like this was I just assumed that I would that that was normal in the sense of I would somehow get there someday, too. So there was never any no one ever told me I couldn't and I always assumed I would be successful, whatever that was, and that's a really a big blessing, even though you know, the circumstances happen the way that they did.   Michael Hingson  08:57 So were you in Southern California by this time? No, I was in Marin County, your silymarin. Yeah, well, that definitely was a good place to be.   Andie Monet  09:06 Yes, exactly.   Michael Hingson  09:09 Because it's for those who don't know, it's a county with a lot of incredible people. Well, Jerry Garcia was from Marin County and valley from Mill Valley. And a number of people of course, that's where Star Wars originally started. That's right. And so, I mean, you had all sorts of lightsabers around you to keep Oh,   Andie Monet  09:29 absolutely. Absolutely. And so it's just it's an amazing place. And, you know, I was it was really quite a blessing to be homeless in that area of all areas. Right. So,   Michael Hingson  09:42 so you were abandoned? What did you do?   Andie Monet  09:45 Yeah, well, the besides looking for a place temporarily outdoors, but eventually indoors, which was a terrifying 16 foot trailer shared with several people who were not pleasant to be around. But, you know, the thing is at 16, my solution was graduated from high school as soon as possible, which actually, I graduated high school formally as 16 and started college at 16. And, more importantly, related to my life now as I started a business, and people, including myself thinking, why on earth would you start a business at 16? And it really wasn't because I, you know, I never considered myself an entrepreneur at that point, I never really intended to own or not own a business, it was just because I had to, you know, at 16 years old, their labor requirements at the time and you couldn't do certain jobs and who wanted to hire a 16 year old anyway, for obvious reasons. And so I had to make money and I was like, well, here we go door to door, I'm gonna find a job one way or the other, and the quote unquote job just ended up being us, you know, self employed and making money called, you know, under the table, as they say, what so what was your business? Oh, everything I could anything and everything. I could think, of course, legally, so but mostly office stuff, like copying, stapling, you know, answering the incoming telephone lines when the reception was out to lunch, throwing out garbage, you know, literally anything in the office that I could, because I already had some Office experience at that time. So and we, you know, there were computers, I was great at working on computers still, even though it was the very beginning. Back in the day, when WordPerfect you had to program your, your text, if anybody even remembers that   Michael Hingson  11:38 good old word. Perfect. Yes.   Andie Monet  11:40 Oh, dear. And so yeah, just a bunch of office stuff it but what I, what I ended up getting really good at was, surprisingly, not sales, by the way, it was creating solutions. Well, you know, obviously, for myself, but also in businesses where I would see something and I would say something. And so a process wasn't working well, or, you know, I was really good at designing stuff for marketing flyers back in the day before social media and you know, coasting, digital marketing, that's what I was looking for. And just really, finding ways to save time to save money to communicate better in marketing, or hiring or anything, it was like, anyway, I knew that I noticed where a difference could be made. I said something. And as that happened, more and more people believed in me, and I had more confidence. And of course, as you build confidence, more people believe you. So it's a cycle, right? And so there's just a lot of things that I just ended up doing in general, but all in the office,   Michael Hingson  12:54 what did all of that do in terms of your, your overall psyche, you had to obviously developed some decisions or mindsets about what you were going to be or the kind of person you were going to be? I'm assuming that being abandoned, probably changed. pretty much immediately. A lot of the thoughts you had about directions and your own view of the world.   Andie Monet  13:20 Yeah, you know, from as long as I could remember, I always knew that I would change the world. And I didn't know, you know, being naive, and not really having any life skills. I don't know if that was going to be, you know, solving world hunger or creating world peace. Like those were the levels I was thinking about. And with the homeless nurse situation, it really kind of, you know, you had to look at that and say, Well, if this is my situation now, what does that mean, for my future? And in a gullible, or, you know, I don't know, I just still had had assumed that that would happen, it would just I just didn't know how long it would take. And part of that was going to college. So the reason that college was really important for me personally, one was that I was good academically anyway. So that wasn't a challenge or a fear. But one, how am I going to create a difference in the world without having a college education, because that was still during the time where you had to go to college to be anything, right. And it's not quite the same way now. But back then it was a big deal. And so there was a way I was going to do that. And that would be that was my first step and my first answer towards finding out how I was going to make a difference and an impact in the world. But as far as like, you know, there I didn't, I was, you know, bullheaded or stubbornness or whatever you want to call it. I was very single minded in the sense of, this is what I want to do and I will get there one way Another So regardless of what happened with my mom, it was more okay, how do I do it now without her? Instead of instead of it being now I'm not going to do it, it was more? How am I going to do it now without all of the other things I assumed I would have?   Michael Hingson  15:16 And what did you decide?   Andie Monet  15:20 Well, besides the college degree and, and the owning the business,   Michael Hingson  15:25 just about how you're going to live in general, since you now didn't have some of what was probably at least a significant part of your support infrastructure?   Andie Monet  15:35 Oh, yeah. Well, you know, again, it was just sort of chipping away, I think, so find a place to live first, which, you know, I was in college. Well, I was, so when I was six. So my birthday is in September. And so at the beginning of that school year, was toward the end of that calendar year, I was homeless. And I was still going to high school during this whole homeless fiasco. And I was applied to college and went through that whole thing with applying to college and getting in and I officially started calling the summer of the following year, two months before I turned 17. And I say that because I was at the college, I was trying to get figure out, you know, all of the things that I need to do in the in the financial aid and the in the classes and the counseling, and, you know, telling me where I need to go. And so there's, so that led to bulletin boards of back in the day bulletin boards, I guess, where you people were looking for people to hire or looking for roommates, or all of those things. So I used to ended up finding a roommate situation. And it was only a couple of $100 a month, which was pretty much all the money I had yet until that point. And so you know, found a place to live. And it was really, really far, actually, it's in Novato of all places. And which is really far from you know, San Rafael. And so there was a lot of busing going on a lot of catching the bus a lot of hours sitting on the bus. And I say that because it was not convenient to be on a bus four hours a day. But it was still okay, check, got no place to live check, you know, graduated from college, you know, check started college, you know, had to go through that whole fiasco of applying which all of this is new, like I, I don't know how, what the process is for applying to college. I just didn't I get there. But all those, you know, day to day action steps and, and lots of time in the library. Right, lots of asking questions of the librarian, you know, just for me, it was just chipping away. Okay. I don't know, what do I do first? What do I do next? What do I do? Like one question leads to an answer, which leads to a question, which leads to a question, which leads to an answer. And so it was just really digging through all of that. And I knew I needed a place to live. And I knew I needed money. And I knew I wanted to go to college.   Michael Hingson  18:01 Where did you go to college?   Andie Monet  18:04 I originally started at College of Moran, okay. But eventually to Stanford, and I actually now have five degrees. But you know, I don't usually share that because, you know, cuz they really had nothing to do with owning a business. Even though, even though the school is telling you and I probably shouldn't say it, but I will never recommend anybody going to business school for business usually.   Michael Hingson  18:35 Well, I got my bachelor's and master's in physics. And I can't say that I don't use them, even though my job changed. And I had some choice in that, in that I was doing some scientific kinds of things, but worked for companies that decided that they hired too many non revenue producing people and I was one of the people that had to go unless I would go into sales. And I made the choice to go into sales. I love to say I lowered my standards and went into sales. But but the reality is that I would never have been nearly as successful if I hadn't gone through seven years of physics and learned a lot of discipline, learn to pay attention to details, and learned a lot of technical stuff that directly and indirectly has helped me through the years in in sales. So yeah, my degree is different than what I do but it it still helps.   Andie Monet  19:42 Well, actually my original degrees and then in engineering and physics, and I I love math, because in part because I love being able to well let me back up a second. I was good at math. I love math. And that's why I did that. But what I learned beyond the math was how to identify, you know, certain aspects of things happening or systems or patterns or, you know, and then you can use math in related and not to get on geeky on us, but where you can have optimization, which is why that's why I call myself a business optimization expert, because optimization is really solving multiple formulas and equations at the same time, while you can also do maximum and minimum calculations. And so with, with business, you want to maximize your revenue, you want to minimize your costs. And if you can streamline operations also, then that's what I really consider optimization. But I can't, I couldn't do what I do now, without having done engineering and physics and calculus and statistics that, and it's just been an amazing way that I didn't even realize would apply to business. But that but does the way I think,   Michael Hingson  21:04 and there you go. It's, it's all about your perspective on it. And also, it's the choices you make, and how you choose to use everything you learned up to that point. And your story is clearly all about making choices. And you can you can talk about what good choices you may have made and bad choices that you may have made. But if you learn from the so called bad choices, then so much the better. But the bottom line is they all teach things to us.   Andie Monet  21:40 Absolutely. Absolutely. And it's really a perspective that, that I really wish a lot of people recognize more, because it's so I mean, I couldn't imagine living as a victim, you know, and, and I guess I shouldn't say that, but I just think that there's so many and my life has not been perfect, they can be tied to the 16 year old. I mean, I, I've been divorced multiple times my you know, you know, my first husband, before we got married, you know, we talked about getting to know each other, and that we would argue and marriage takes effort and, and you know, there's going to be times that we don't like each other and all this stuff, and that we are committed to making it work. And three months later, he wanted a divorce. And, you know, my next marriage was I didn't know it, then. But he ended up being a drug addict and embezzling money out of my company, because I made him an officer, because why would I? Why would it not? Right? He's my husband. And, and I've been homeless more than one time, unfortunately. So you know, just stuff happens. And if I had let those situations define my capabilities, and my capacity and my success, or my lack of success, my life would be really hard place. And it doesn't have to be because no matter what happens, you can always create amazing things in your life, with or without people's help. I mean, obviously, the more help, the better. But there's still things you can do.   Michael Hingson  23:16 And again, you learned from your choices. So have you have you ever gotten married, it now sticks?   Andie Monet  23:25 You know, I honestly, I truly hope that I will be married again someday, but I'm not married at the moment. And, you know, I someday, you know, I leave it to God in the universe to decide to let me know when when it's time I suppose.   Michael Hingson  23:42 We got married my wife and I when I was 32. And she was 33. I love to say I taught her everything she knows. She reverses that. So it's okay. But we have now been married 39 plus years. Oh my gosh, for us wonderful. What we what we say? And I think rightly so is that we knew what we wanted in someone. And you're right, God lets you know when it's the right time and for us, we just knew. And so we met in January of 1982. I proposed in July and we got married in November of 1982. So I love it. Yeah. And we have, we go through all the usual things that marriages go through, but we are absolutely committed to each other and that's as good as it gets.   Andie Monet  24:38 Absolutely. And I do think that, you know, again, probably not the topic of conversation, but you know, one of the reasons that I had such a challenging time with the marriage thing, in part was because I had with the relationship with my mom, I didn't really know how those you know, I needed somebody to Love Me. So there was all that I mean, not that we all don't want somebody to love us, of course, but mine was just very toxic in a sense of I need, because I hadn't gone through what I needed to go through with dealing with my mom. I mean, I love her and, and I haven't seen her in 20 years. And and that's a whole nother discussion. But the point being, I just never had that role model. We never, neither didn't have no one. I never saw it, I never talked about it. All I know is that I was empty inside and I wanted to fill that up, and it was filled with the wrong people, you know, and and I know that now, so it's different, within a good way, you know,   Michael Hingson  25:43 you have developed a mentality, or let's put it as, as we should a mindset in your life, I would certainly describe it as an unstoppable mindset. But you clearly have developed a mindset by which you live.   Andie Monet  25:59 Yeah, I actually realized it was a mindset until not recently, but you know, several decades, several years later, I just, I had always just assumed everybody believes the same thing I did that you can do anything you want, if you wanted to, if you wanted to. Right, and, and then I found out that that just wasn't true for most people. And it's, I'm laughing because I'm, you know, in my earlier age, because I'm in my 50s. Now my earlier age, I would, I don't want to say make fun of them. But I just I just didn't get it right. And even though I know not everybody thinks the same. I just figured it was I just figured it was a common theme. And I recognize now that I was really blessed to have it whether by choice or accident or who knows what, right. But I even talked to my, my, my son's father about it. And, and he says, which was really insightful for me. And I didn't think that, that he could teach me anything I didn't already know. giggle giggle. But he said, Well, you've just been in a habit of doing it all your life. So of course, the more times you do it, the more confidence you get the less of a question it becomes. And I had never really thought of it that way. As you know, I it's you know, and the reason I say that is because this really started when I was five years old. And my mom when I was five, she said, Okay, you're five, you're going to school, and now you have to take care of yourself. And I thought well, what does that mean? And she said, you know getting dressed, getting yourself up in the morning getting yourself dressed for school, taking yourself to school, making sure you eat breakfast, packing your lunch, doing all the things, making sure you do your all the things that you would normally do that you would get support from parents from gets a parent, that's not a complete sentence. But anyway, I said, Wow, good. I do I talk good ish. And so, you know, it's it was that practice of, of just doing it day to day to day, and there were some days that were just really scary. Like, I took the bus and went to the wrong bus stop and got on the freeway and ended up somewhere else. And I called my mom and I said, Hey, apparently I took the wrong bus, can you come and get me and I remembered because I was only eight years old. And she said basically tough go figure it out. And I was in tears walking to where I thought my school was. And it took several hours and but things like that happened to me all the time. And my mom was just like, suck it up, because I'm not going to come and get you. And so the practice of being able to problem solve and find solutions and make things happen even when you didn't want to was something that she forced me to have to do. And she didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart even though I would like to think that I mean, she just didn't want to have to deal with a child but but the benefit of that was it's something that I'm good at. And so, you know, beyond that, I also kind of feel like that you are you can you take that to more than just your day to day stuff, right? You can take that into beyond, you know, feeding yourself and, and maybe eating well and maybe exercising but how do you impact the world? How do you I mean, so many people, I think, feel like they're meant for something bigger, and they just don't know what that is or they don't know what to do about it. I mean, I think everybody really is an amazing person that can do so much once they look past themselves. And sometimes that's not easy, because you only look at your situation or how much money you don't have or what your, you know, potentially bad relationship is like, or you hate your job or your car isn't working at all these things that are stinky, poopoo, right? Yeah, but what about the stuff that is that has worked? And how do you move from, hey, I have a crappy car to, hey, I have a car that can take me to places where I don't have to catch the bus or where instead of, you know, driving 20 minutes, maybe you get a job that pays twice as much. That's 20 more minutes away. Like there's little things right? And how do you I know that's kind of a silly example. But but there are like you can, how you look at what you have changed can change your life literally.   Michael Hingson  30:56 Put. Let me turn let me turn the bus thing around just for fun. Yes, my my wife is isn't a wheelchair she's used to chair her entire life until we moved to Novato actually, in 2003. So it was after we were there a year, she switched to a power chair. And as her physical medicine doctor said, The problem is that God in the universe don't give shoulders a lifetime warranty. So her rotator cuffs were fraying and some arthritis. So she had to switch to a power chair. But in the early 1990s, we went to New York, I went for some sales meetings. And I invited her to come along, because I don't think that she had spent any real time in New York as I recall. So she came. And I went on sales calls. And she entertained herself during the day. And I came home from one set of calls back to the hotel. And she was all absolutely proud of herself. Because she had gone to the concierge and she said I want to go to her the UN. And he did some research. And it turns out that the busses in New York were wheelchair accessible for at least the most part, if not totally, they had ramps or lifts, actually, that would get her on the bus. So she went out she caught a bus to the UN, oh my goodness, just like anyone else paid her fare and the whole bid got to the UN. But actually the bus stopped across the street, she wheeled across the street, went across the parking lot and all that got into the UN took the tour, came back out, got a bus back to the hotel, and was absolutely proud of herself because she was able to do all that. And I understand that it was pretty daunting, because most of the time, a lot of that stuff isn't accessible. But on the other hand driving is a whole lot more fun than in a sense than having to take the bus I understand.   Andie Monet  32:59 Yeah, I think even then, you know, it, I couldn't imagine how scary it would be I mean, even and I'll say this, and it's going to sound really strange. Like for me to catch a bus now, I would be terrified only because it just takes you know, you have to organize it, which bus number is it going to go to the right place. So you need to couple buses. And God forbid, you know, if for people who don't have 100% of all their, you know, whether it's site or movement, what happens if something happens, right? I mean, I imagine you'd have to think about that. Like, what happens if, if my wheelchair doesn't work, or I fall out or I have a medical issue and I'm in public, nobody knows where I am. You know, that's, that creates a whole nother nother level of what do you do? And you know, life can be scary sometimes, no matter how good you are.   Michael Hingson  33:57 I think that's true for a lot of people, though, I mean, in the sense that whether it's a physical issue or whatever, especially today, there are just so many uncertainties that we all face. I admire people who are out and about all the time, on buses and so on, because that's their only way to get around. Or maybe it isn't, but that's the way they've chosen and they learn to live with it. I know. For years, I traveled from Westfield, New Jersey into the World Trade Center by two trains. Actually, a paratransit vehicle from one end of Westfield to the other and then two trains to get in. And I I know, absolutely for certain I could still do that today. But that's a set sort of thing that you can count on unless the train breaks. Right, right. But having to use that as your main process for getting around trains and buses and so on that that has to be difficult for a lot of people. And it would be nice if other people could could have the opportunity to drive but their life conditions at this point may not make that possible. Although I think that it would be so much better if we had really good public transportation. Oh, my gosh, yes. All over the place.   Andie Monet  35:20 For sure. I mean, that. Really? I mean, I think that should have been done years ago. But we don't we don't live in that kind of a society right now. You know, but we don't, I think that it would be a wonderful thing. Not for so many people, though, you know, not just, you know, there's some family that only have one car, or maybe, you know, there's some certain, you know, they're getting older, like my grandfather who's still alive, he can't he's legally blind and legally deaf. And so he still has to get around. Right. I mean, but there's only so many resources available to him. And I don't say that just because it's a family member of I mean, it just in general, we are, you know, the United States doesn't have a great system for, for transportation system in general.   Michael Hingson  36:10 We're not where we should be, what are their lives,   Andie Monet  36:14 He lives in San Leandro, California, okay? Well, in his own apartment, because he doesn't want to live with anybody because he's bent and stubborn, just like his granddaughter.   Michael Hingson  36:28 And the other side of that is that there are techniques and there are things he could learn. And we could, if it would be helpful, I can introduce you to some some folks that might be able to assist him to improve in in his processes, because there's no reason that from a physical standpoint, he can't be independent. But on the other hand, I understand there are more aspects to it than that. But we there are, there are so many people who lose their eyesight. And some of them make the choice to just give up. And some of them make the choice, similar to the choices that you've made, not to give up. And I think that's, that's part of the the mystery I think for for all of us is why is it that more of us don't tend to believe that we can be unstoppable. And I use that in so many general ways, but to for the purposes of the question, why is it that we don't learn to choose to be able to accomplish what we need to do and overcome obstacles in our way.   Andie Monet  37:42 You know, I happen to think, and, of course, there's no scientific background to this, but I happen to think a lot of it is in part due to the way that we grow up. And some families are just not supportive, you know, they don't, they don't hear the affirmations, or they don't hear, you know, their, whatever, whether it's words or actions or, like with my mom, she was not, she was either, which is kind of doesn't support what I'm about to say, but she, her actions were very, you're not, you're not valuable enough for me to me. But at the same time, she forced me to do things that that were eventually good for, for me. So she supported me in really kind of reverse kind of a way. But like my daughter, I have an adult daughter, and I have a young son at home. But my adult daughter is a complete opposite of me. And she's in she. And I don't have a solution for this, but she doesn't, she hasn't really she's very challenged with finding with doing what she wants to do for the benefit of herself. And I don't, and I don't know how to fix it. And I can't because she's an adult now. But going back to why people don't feel that way. Is you know, I think social media plays a big part of it, which again, not scientific just my opinion. You know, while in social media, you're always finding how everybody's like, it's wonderful and beautiful and perfect or great shoes or nice car, you know, handsome spouse or, or good looking friends or smart, like everything is there perfect, single second in their life, right? And when you're comparing yourself to that, especially with the children, and then the younger adults, is, well if they're doing it, and I'm not and I'm a failure, and it's constant. I mean, it's just whether you're watching a TV show or a movie or social media, it's all about how wonderful somebody else's life is. And we don't have enough input to really tell us that we're amazing inside. And we have all the tools we already need to be successful. And I don't care how smart you are, or how how you know how fast your car drives, or how many bad relationships you've built in, or how much your kids hate you, or like, there's always amazingness in you, and we don't get that input from everybody. And whether it's not from our spouse, not from our kids, not from our parents, not from our family members, not from our friends, it's not something we get on a constant or consistent basis, and you have to find it inside of you, which is not easy to do, like spending time with yourself. And being really honest about your life is not an easy place for some people, especially when they're lost or confused or anxious or frustrated. And I could talk about that on on a tangent forever. But I'd really I would love a society and an environment and a community where we really create positive messages. And we just don't have that here.   Michael Hingson  40:55 I can imagine, though, that a lot of kids, in your situation, if they had been in the same kind of environment, might not have reacted the same way you did, and not learn to be self sufficient, or couldn't mentally overcome the challenges that your mom put in your way? And how do we? How do we deal with that? How do we teach kids to recognize that they can accomplish whatever they want. And I mean that in a positive way, not just to overcome people tramp on people or whatever, but recognize that within themselves, they have a lot more inner strength than they probably think they do.   Andie Monet  41:44 I think sports has a lot to do can help that. I think that academics are really important because I there's a foundational, intellectual level, right? But music, and athletics, and all the creative and fine arts are critical for that. And again, not scientific, just my opinion, I think all of those make a huge impact into confidence and problem solving, and the ability to be able to find magic inside of you. And also not related to that. But this is the exact reason why, you know, I created a nonprofit organization. And certainly it's not going to solve all the problems. But it gives children a place to recognize that they are amazing. And I don't talk about being amazing. But I give them you know, tips and tools and resources in what I call six fundamental areas. And one of them is confidence and leadership and career and entrepreneurship. And just really, that everybody's different in their own amazing way. But by the way, while you're figuring out your amazingness here are some life skills that you're going to deal with that, though you might not be you might not be dealing with it now today. But these are things that you're going to need in your adult life. I mean, my eight year old, we talk about publicly traded companies and the difference between debit and credit card and why credit scores are important because we talked about bankruptcy because he said, Well, what happens if you don't pay your credit card? And I said, Well, your credit score goes down, you could go bankrupt. And if you go bankrupt, you get, you know, your interest rate goes down, I mean up and then as your interest rate goes up, you can't afford stuff like I oversimplified it, of course, but these are things that, you know, help. Again, I know, it's not confidence in the traditional sense of confidence, but confidence in the sense of when they're 18 and 20. And 30. Like this is not going to be a surprise for them. Like they'll be able to manage basics of life when we're talking about, you know, doing laundry and, and checking air in your tires, as well as as financial management and career. I mean, I really wish that again, sorry, I'm talking so fast that I get going, I get so excited about this is I wish they would bring career day back to schools because now kids just have no idea. You know, there's no leadership in the sense of the possibilities. And I think the the whole idea of possibilities and vision is so important. Not only as a child, but as an adult still, whether you're 20 or 30, or 40. Like if you don't know, if you don't have any, you know, plan or desire or goal or someplace you want to be that's different than where you are now then, of course nothing's going to change and so when children graduate high school or even sometimes graduate college, they still don't know what they're going to do. And that's okay. But having that next step is what's important, right? What do you do when you graduate high school? Okay, well, even if you're even if you don't want to go to college, you still are going to have to get a job which is you know, where are you going to start? Are you going to start it, McDonald's? Are you going to start wherever right There's still that next step, you're going to have to take today or tomorrow. And there's always going to be that next step, you're going to have to take today or tomorrow. And there's always going to be something you have to do, even if even if the end all be all is let me just get up and go to work and come home and II, you're still applying for that. Right? So exactly.   Michael Hingson  45:19 Well, let me ask this, it's generally acknowledged that we learn a lot of our formative stuff, at pretty young ages by five and seven years old, and so on. And that leads to developing a mindset, whatever it is, can those mindsets change, though later in life?   Andie Monet  45:43 My opinion is that there's always a core set of mindset that you're going to grow up with, right, and some of them are good, and some of them are bad. And I think all of them that both the good and the bad, can absolutely change. But the good ones you really want to take hold of and develop those and, and that's where I really think where the you're really inner superhero can come that comes out is when you can identify and strengthen those really positive mindsets that you have. Because once your eyes again, this is what I think is that once you're able to not devalue them, not minimize them, not ignore these innate mindsets, and strengths that we have, and really like, you know, just build them up. Like it can create an amazing, amazing impact in your life. But by the same token, as you can identify not helpful mindsets, that it's just like eating if you ate candy all the time. And you know, it's bad for you, why do it? Right?   Michael Hingson  46:54 How do we change those? How do we change those bad mindsets?   Andie Monet  46:58 Well, I mean, I just think education is really the big piece of that, you know, you have to, you have to want it, you have to search for it, you have to find books, or mentors, or even YouTube, like I love looking at motivational speeches on YouTube. They're so fun to me. You know, counseling is helpful. I mean, there's so many things,   Michael Hingson  47:18 all about making choices,   Andie Monet  47:20 how about making choices, and even, you know, churches and synagogues and, you know, meditation places, like, if you ask, and you're like, hey, I would like to get, you know, be better at it. Or, you know, I tend to have a negative mindset, how, you know, Can you can you have any recommendations, like, I used to put affirmations on my bathroom mirror, that would bring me to tears, literally, because I knew they were true. When, like, logically, but emotionally, it was hard. Like, you know, I'm valuable. I love myself, you know, I'm pretty, whatever they is right? say them out loud, to yourself in the mirror, you think is an easy thing to do. And it was not, even if no one else knows just you it's a hard thing to do. But it's so I think it's one of the most important things that you can do for yourself.   Michael Hingson  48:15 We just don't learn enough. Nor are we talked enough about introspection. And yeah, and recognizing that when you do something that you really feel is wrong, recognizing me wrong, maybe it's not good choice. But when you when you do something that doesn't turn out the way you expected. And I'm operating under the premise that that's morally a good thing, as opposed to, you tried to rob a bank, and that doesn't count. But when you when you truly are trying to better yourself, and you do something where it doesn't go the way you planned, if we don't stop and look at it, and try to understand more of why it happened. No matter what we do, we're not going to progress.   Andie Monet  49:06 Absolutely. Very, very true. And that I believe that that happens in anything, anything and everything, whether it's career or owning a business or being a better spouse, or a better, you know, driver or I mean, for example, you know, if you get in a car accident, what's the first thing you do you blame the other person, right? But nobody often thinks about what they did that they could have been done differently. You know, not, you know, hopefully not texting, of course, but you know, driving the speed limit or doing that three seconds or whatever their seconds is, you know, the safe distance or you know, just whatever it is and that, again, going back to I feel like you're saying is looking at what you did and how you contributed to the outcome of it. I think makes it really, really Big difference. And even for me even It's even good stuff, right? Well, what can I do that will make it even better? And so what am I, and I'm probably talking too long about this, but you know, I love, I love loving on people. And if and it's just, it comes from my heart, it's genuine, it means it means a lot to me to be able to do that with people. And even if they're strangers like, and so you know, looking them straight in the eye when I'm talking to them, or calling them by their name or saying thank you, or whatever, like, those are really important to me. But I don't do it 100% of the time. So how can I go from whatever the loads, just throw out a number, say 75% of the time? How do I move from 75% to 80%? Like, it takes a conscious effort to recognize when I'm not doing it, to know why I'm not doing it, because maybe I was just in a bad mood, and I or I missed a deadline, or I didn't eat lunch or whatever, like that's on me. But you have to recognize when I have to recognize when I do it so that I can get better at it, or at in this case that are not better at moving from 75 to 80 percents.   Michael Hingson  51:06 Well, and and you really are expressing this very well, because the other thing I was going to talk about was the fact that even if you were involved in something and did it absolutely the right way, it's still a good idea to go back and look at it to be able to ask the question, could I have done it even better? Or it worked out? Okay, for me, I did what I was what I needed to do, and I made exactly the right choices. But these other things happened elsewhere. What kind of effect could I have had in maybe making it better for other people, it all gets back to self analysis and introspection that we just tend not to want to do with ourselves in our lives. And the reality is, we're our best, worst critic. Absolutely. And we should do more of that. So I have a question. What did you do after college, you went and started a career do we what?   Andie Monet  52:06 I got my engineering degree, but never went into engineering. And it's been business my whole life. So my I ended up being originally being an accountant. And I, my biggest client, by 20 years old was actually Price Waterhouse, which is one of the big four international accounting firms. And I consulted with them. So I was already consulting. By the time I was 18, I had almost graduated college by the by Dean. And I just been really, the short version is honing my skills into better and better things. Mostly because I have a growth mindset also, like I believe there's always something to learn. And even, like what I do with business development is I still love listening to other people and other books and taking other courses from other people who also do business development, because maybe there's something that I can learn. Or maybe there's a trick I didn't consider. Or maybe there's a different way to explain something, which I have learned over the years. Like, even though I'm an expert, quote, unquote, I say that because, you know, you never know everything. But even though I'm an expert at what I do, there's always room for growth. And then I find over the last 35 years that other things complement what I do. And so it helps me to know what happens after I'm doing what I'm doing with them, I can give them direction as to what to do next. That is not necessarily what I do, right? So there's just always ways that you can really impact the world, which is what I really my end goal is how do I how do I make a difference in people's lives. And for me, you know, financially, it comes through my business, but I teach them about leadership and communication, which is not, I don't teach them that in as a consultant. That's what I bring to the table as a friend, and as a mentor, and as a colleague, and as somebody who cares about people who want to who hopefully also want to make a difference.   Michael Hingson  54:09 So what is your business today?   Andie Monet  54:13 I do business optimization. And so I basically I tell people this way, I help people create explosive growth without adding cost to their business. And everybody's like, what, what does that mean? And so how do we increase your revenue and decrease your cost? Where we're reducing the cost to operate your business, which really partially, you know, there's several ways to do that, but but over simplified ways, is streamlining your operations and streamlining your processes, which increases time of the day. But the decreasing and cost, in part has to do with productivity, increasing the productivity and I don't like that word because it makes it sound like whatever you're going to do in eight hours. Want you to do more, which is not really the intention, the intention is more. Okay, it takes you four hours to do this. Let's, let's take do it in two. But here's a really overseas a really good small example. Quick example is a guy came to me and he said, Hey, I want you to fix my Excel worksheet. I thought, why is this man calling me to fix his Excel worksheet? That's not what I do. And I said, well, but then in my, hey, let me help the world. I want to know. So I said, Okay, well tell me about your worksheet. So what do you do with it? He says, I will I bill clients. And I said, Well, how do you get into the worksheet? Tell me, tell me your process. And he says, Well, I help people in the field. They upload their hours to an app. We download the data from the app. It's in an Excel worksheet, and then we divvy up that information into 17 other worksheets, and then we both the clients and I said, Well, how long does that take? You said three weeks, about three weeks. And I said, Well, here's the thing, I'm not going to fix the Excel worksheet. But what I am going to do is fix your process. And then literally, one day, I moved him from a three week process to a two day process. And in two months, he doubled his revenue. So little things like that we didn't add any cost. He created more hours in his day, he created more revenue and more profits with literally in 24 hours. Except I do that on a bigger scale, usually, like I helped monster energy, save $14 million, and within a month, like, and then I help small businesses too, of course, but it all there's always a way to optimize something. And maybe it's all three of them. Maybe it's maybe it's streamlining processes, and optimizing your IT systems and improving your your your costs, but not always, sometimes it's just one of them. How   Michael Hingson  56:56 do leadership and communications play a part in the whole process of what you do to fix processes.   Andie Monet  57:07 So the processes are the processes, but what the way the leadership and the communication work is really critical for my own personal passion, not as much for the business, although I'll tell you the good points and the bad points. So I don't like saying this every day, because I think people misinterpret it or jump to conclusions. But as you can, as you have happy employees or productivity is gonna go up. And as their productivity goes up, their profits are gonna go up. This is not why I talk about communication and leadership, it just happens to be the result of it. But more importantly, I think that the leadership, leadership responsibility is to, again, my opinion, is to empower people and to lift people up and to be a version of themselves that they want to be or that can be and showing them that they that they can be that and this goes back to that positive. Really culture that we don't really have is how do we support each other? And maybe in some cases, that person instead of friend, I'm just throwing this out there instead of a McCallum they want to be an artist, well, then I happen to think that you should help them do that. Not everybody believes that. And I know why. But that's just what I think. So as a leader of a company specifically, and you know, even in the home, in your home, of course, but in a company is your job is to empower them and to uplift them and to give them tools to be successful. Yes. Was it? Is it going to cost $50? More a month? Potentially, yeah, but what are you going to do $50 is a small price to pay for having somebody's effectiveness, increased productivity, increase happiness increase. And that's the leadership role, the communication piece comes into play, because besides the positive, of course, but also in the sense of how it's my job to be able to communicate with you in a way that you're able to hear me and understand me, and be supportive. And we all have a communication style. That doesn't speak to everybody, right? I mean, there's, there's in the basic four, and I won't go into detail, but the basic four the relationship, structure, technical and action. And so I'm mostly a relationship person, I want people to feel good, I want people to be loved. I want people to feel like they belong. And so that's how I communicate and that's how I operate. And that's how I, that's where I am. But if I'm, if I'm in sales, or even if it's an employee, and I'm going to be talking to a technical person who that language is about the numbers, about the data about the resources about the statistics and all those things, then telling them that I love them is not going to get them to be excited about their job right or a sales potential client to be excited about doing business with me. I have to be able to communicate, where I'm like, Hey, I love you. But also, and here's the information that's going to make you successful as an employee, or here's the information that are, these are the statistics, or these are the articles, or this is the information that's going to have a potential customer, be my customer or an employee, be an empowered employee, where they're like, Yes, that makes sense, I'm ready to go. And so that's where communication really plays a part in, in leadership and in profitability. And in really just making a difference in other people's lives too. Because as your customers and employees and again, at home to, as they feel like you're, you're able to communicate with them in a way where they are appreciated, or loved, or empowered, or all of those things, they're going to go, they're going to want to come back to work, of course, but then they're also going to go home, and they're going to be more patient people, they're going to be more understanding people, they're going to be more like all of these other intangible things that they bring, you give to them, and they bring out into their lives. And that's why I think that's such an important piece of learning how to communicate better and have been the leader that I think we all can be.   Michael Hingson  1:01:17 So person comes up to you and says, I want to be an artist, not an accountant. And they let's assume, just for the sake of discussion, they're a good accountant. Do you, although you want to help them? Do you try to drill down a little bit and find out why they really feel that way?   Andie Monet  1:01:36 Yeah, I do. I do. Because one of the hesitations, I actually have this happen, which is why I thought of it. But I said, Okay, well, you know, what is it about? art that you really like, Andy, you know, because His concern was, he wouldn't have an income, which has pretty reasonable, you know, concern. So I was like, Okay, we have, we have two ways to handle this one. And this is this is my inside voice talking, by the way. One is that we find out how to be creative in his accounting role. Or two, we transition him from an account to creating a place in his life where he can be an artist, and make money, you know, because again, you have to eat right, eat and not be homeless. And so with him, we ended up and I've had this happen actually multiple times, but with him, we actually he kept his job. And we found a way where really, he just wanted to be creative. It wasn't necessarily art, per se. So he stayed an accountant, but he was more into the processes and the workflows and the systems design, and how do we really create a system that's going to not only be more productive, but where he can create that system? Create,   Michael Hingson  1:02:58 where there's where the creativity comes from? That makes perfect sense. Yeah, exactly. What are some of the biggest challenges that you've seen that Cust your clients have when it comes to dealing with processes and so on?   Andie Monet  1:03:12 Well, besides not having them, there you go. I just had a call today, actually. And it was it was a it was a friend that I met through an event. And she said she called me she's like, I'm losing my mind. I'm literally going to the doctor for an EKG, because my life really my business is unmanageable. And I just wanted to talk to somebody. And long story short, you know, she just felt really lost in being focused about her responsibilities as a business owner. And she felt like she was pulled in multiple ways. And that was stressing and it was now affecting her physical health, which is not a good thing. So my first question to her to her was, do you have processes which i i asked a question, I try to ask the question where she's going to say yes. And she said, Yes, I do. Nice. Okay. Are they documented? And that's where the note came in. Do you have a workflow? On paper? No, I'm like, Okay, so the short answer is, let's get that and you're not allowed to do anything else. If there's a fire, you're not allowed to put it out, because that is somebody else's job. If this is really what you want to do, and she told me what she want to do in her company, then you need to focus on that, and this is how we're going to do it. So I say that because sometimes clarity is a feeling that can only be handled with a technical answer. So with her, we needed it on paper and she needed to her focus was on what we were going to write but other people as An example is they just feel like they can very afraid of numbers. And there's a lot of math anxiety. In fact, I had a, I had somebody recommend never say math on the podcast, because people automatically shut down and I can see that happening. But there's what, there's an education process of explaining, without using the word mouth, what it is that we can provide to them. Right? Would you like to sleep better at night? Would you like to what I say? Would you like to be transformed from a small business owner to a corporate executive in your own business and be able to make financial and operational decisions with ease within a matter of minutes? Or yeah, like, well, then we need to build your infrastructure. That's it. So I actually   Michael Hingson  1:05:51 very well, may very well involve bath but you didn't use the word.   Andie Monet  1:05:55 Exactly. And in fact, some of the courses I teach are not talking about that. But they're doing that. But because because I started, I started by saying what they're going to get out of the answers that they're going to be able to answer. So they're willing to do a little bit more than they would had I started with the end, as opposed to well, excuse me, instead of starting at the beginning, I started at the end. And it makes a big difference. And I probably didn't even answer your question, frankly. But I was so excited about the,   Michael Hingson  1:06:27 you're done. Good. I appreciate that. Let me ask this question that comes to mind changing the subject. So a lot of us who deal in one way or another with disabilities, because we are part of that community and so on. often hear people say, well, it's just too expensive to hire you or you have to buy special things for you. We can't afford that our business doesn't make much money. How do you deal or would you deal with that?   Andie Monet  1:07:05 Well, first of all, I think that that's poopoo, poopoo answer. Because you can always get around other days to know I, I just think that's an excuse. And that, again, I know is just my opinion, but if it was important to you, you would find a way. And let's say worst case scenario, worst case scenario is that it does cause a lot of money. But there's more to your business and, and your life than the money that it costs. I think what how are you? Again, it goes back to contributing to the community. And I think that if you can get, you know, whatever, 1000 10,000 50,000 more people that you couldn't get to before, wouldn't that be a good thing, right. And even if, let's say they're not even customers, let's just say it's free to offer something for free. That's still creating intangible and non financial benefits to the world. And although I, of course, I'm more on the philanthropy side of why you should do it. But the financial pieces, there's always a way to do it. And I can pretty much almost guarantee that that anything is possible. Financially, if you have the right things in place, like maybe streamlining something that's going to like something costs $10,000. So let's streamline your operations where you're basically re creating 10,000 in your own company without spending money. So effectively, you have a net zero, like from a financial standpoint, there's always a way, I think, I mean, I've never yet in 35 years ever found something that I haven't been able to solve. We might have had to change the scope a little but other than that, it's all there's always a way. And I just think I just think that t

Bertie Wooster and his valet Jeeves (please don't call him a butler; he is a gentleman's personal gentleman) are in New York, somewhat on the lam from Aunt Agatha. But he can't avoid her entirely when an imposing friend of hers shows up. Join the fun in P. G. Wodehouse's “Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest.”

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An estimate of 30 million men in the US are struggling with sexual performance anxiety. You've probably experienced this at some point, or maybe have experienced it with your partner.  Unbidden thoughts invade your mind, like, “what if I finish too soon,” or “what if it won't stay up long enough,” or “what if I can't make my partner cum,” and before you know it, the moment is already spoiled. It is important to acknowledge that your feelings are valid, and you need to address the root of those concerns if you don't want to ruin your sex life.  In this episode, Sarrah tackles the different causes of performance anxiety and why men need to break free from the shackles of a society that instilled in them the need to “perform” when they're having sex. Stop feeding your sex fears and insecurities and start embarking on the journey to more satisfying sex.  “Whatever identity you have formed around your performance anxiety is a coping mechanism, and pushing it away isn't going to get you anywhere.” - Sarrah Rose In This Episode: A certain part of your brain is sabotaging your sex life, and you need to understand why you're allowing it.   There is a fix for performance anxiety but it's requiring you to man up!  Your cock is not designed to be robotic, and there's a pretty good reason why.  And, so much more! Connect with Sarrah Rose: Website:https://tantricactivation.com/ ( https://tantricactivation.com/) Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/tantricactivation/ (https://www.instagram.com/tantricactivation/) Facebook:https://facebook.com/TantricActivation/ ( https://facebook.com/TantricActivation/) Twitter:https://twitter.com/IAmSarrahRose ( https://twitter.com/IAmSarrahRose)

View our full collection of podcasts at our website: https://www.solgood.org/ or YouTube channel: www.solgood.org/subscribe

View our full collection of podcasts at our website: https://www.solgood.org/ or YouTube channel: www.solgood.org/subscribe

View our full collection of podcasts at our website: https://www.solgood.org/ or YouTube channel: www.solgood.org/subscribe

View our full collection of podcasts at our website: https://www.solgood.org/ or YouTube channel: www.solgood.org/subscribe

View our full collection of podcasts at our website: https://www.solgood.org/ or YouTube channel: www.solgood.org/subscribe

Today's meditation comes from Matthew 4:1-11, Mark 1:12-13, Luke 4:1-13. Introduction For the first thirty years of Jesus' life, He did nothing that the gospel writers saw fit to record, save for the one episode where He remained behind in the temple at twelve years of age, listening at the teachers' feet and astounding them with His wisdom (Luke 2:41-52). He otherwise appeared to be a normal young man, until He was anointed by the Holy Spirit and received power from on high. This marked the beginning of His ministry. He had the power to do miracles at this point, but He had never yet performed one. Strangely, the first thing the Holy Spirit did was lead Him into the wilderness, to be tempted by Satan (Matthew 4:1). The Holy Spirit actually intended for the temptations to occur. Yet we know God never leads us into temptation (Matthew 6:13, James 1:13); Jesus was a special case, for this too. Why?  In my retelling, Jesus recited to Himself the Israelites' journey through the wilderness, believing that His own time in the wilderness was a parallel of theirs. They left Egypt (the life they knew), just as He left His old life of obscurity behind. They had never before known power, and then suddenly they were delivered with great signs and wonders. Then the Lord drove them into the wilderness, where they confronted daily needs, and with them, temptations to doubt the Lord's goodness and provision. The story in the Old Testament does not record that it was Satan stirring up the people against the Lord, but then, the Old Testament had (almost) no doctrine of Satan. Presumably he was there, though, and the Israelites gave right in, every time. In order for Jesus to be our perfect sacrifice and substitute, He needed to be tempted in all ways as we were, and yet remain without sin (Hebrews 4:15). So the first temptation, according to both versions of this story in Matthew and Luke, was turning stone into bread. This parallels the temptations of the Israelites in the wilderness: much of their grumblings against the Lord had to do with lack of food and water. Notice that Satan waited to offer this temptation to Jesus until he'd been fasting for forty days, and was literally beginning to starve. Bread was not a luxury, but a legitimate need at this point. Yet would He trust in the Father to provide, or take matters into His own hands? If He did the latter, it would demonstrate potentially two things: lack of trust in God's provision, and also doubt in His own identity.  It's interesting that Satan begins two of his temptations with “If You are the Son of God.” These would not have been temptations if Jesus had no inclination to doubt who He was. Yet after thirty years of doing nothing remarkable, how could He not? Giving in to this doubt would have been sin, though, as “whatever is not of faith is sin” (Romans 14:23), and the root of all sin is unbelief (John 16:9).  The order of the second and third temptations varies in the two accounts in Matthew and Luke, though the content was the same. According to 1 John 2:16, there are only three areas in which Satan tempts us: the “lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.” The temptation to turn stone to bread was lust of the flesh: putting the needs of His body above following God. He responded to this temptation by comparing God's Word to bread: no doubt this was exactly what the original manna in the wilderness was meant to represent.  Pride of life would have been showing off by jumping off the pinnacle of the Temple, just to prove to the Jews (and to Himself) that He had the power to call angels to His assistance. Satan even tried to twist scripture to convince Jesus to fall for this one, adding to and omitting portions of Psalm 91 to suit his purposes. Satan's version of Psalm 91 made it sound as though God had promised carte blanche: complete protection under any and all circumstances. But Jesus understood that His power was not to be spent upon His own lusts (James 4:3)—and indeed, He did not benefit personally from any of the miracles He performed (unless you count taking His portion from the food He multiplied when feeding the 5000 and the 4000). Here too, Jesus responds to the temptation by quoting from Deuteronomy, as He does with all three. As Paul tells us, the Word is a sword, our only offensive weapon against the enemy (Ephesians 6:17). The last temptation according to Matthew's account was the lust of the eyes, as He beheld all the glittering kingdoms of the world. Luke's gospel records Satan's assertion, “this has been delivered to me, and I give it to whomever I wish” (Luke 4:6). Notice that Jesus didn't contradict this: the earth and all its kingdoms were Satan's, and they both knew it. Jesus had come to earth, in part, to regain the authority that Adam had lost. Here, Satan offered it to Him freely. I doubt Satan realized that the alternative was the cross, since Paul tells us that if he had understood this, he would never have crucified Him (1 Corinthians 2:8). But Jesus knew it, which presumably made the offer all the more enticing. Yet even if Satan had kept his end of the bargain (which is doubtful), regaining authority for Himself only was never Jesus' goal. He wanted us back, and there was only one way to get us. If Jesus had sinned, He could not have become the perfect Lamb of God, our substitutionary sacrifice. He could not have ushered in the New Covenant.    Fictionalized Retelling (from Jesus' POV) It was time.  I had, from time to time over the last six months, lingered some distance away from the Jordan River as my cousin John baptized the hoards of Israel who came to him seeking repentance. I watched smiling, laughing, and sometimes weeping as the prodigals came home.  “The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few,” I murmured aloud on more than one occasion, bursting with pride in my cousin. But I had never revealed my presence to him over the past six months. His fame grew, though I remained in obscurity.  Until now.  My heart hammered in my chest in a blend of excitement and anticipation as I made my way right down to the banks of the Jordan this time. John was waist deep in the river, helping a middle aged man plunge beneath the waters and come back up again, his nose plugged and eyes closed while everyone around him cheered. Grinning, John released him.  “Bear fruit worthy of repentance, friend!” John shouted after the man as he waded toward his friends, arms thrust into the air in victory and face streaming with water. John turned to see who was next, and our eyes locked. His smile froze while mine widened. Understanding struck him.  “Of course it's you.” He was too far away and the rushing water was too loud for me to hear him, but I saw his lips form the words and his eyes fill with tears. Then he started laughing, even as the tears spilled over onto his cheeks. Answering tears pricked in my own eyes. I had always imagined this moment: how John would react when he realized that I was the Messiah. The reality was better.  “Behold!” John bellowed to everyone around him, making a grand sweeping gesture to me with one hand as he wiped his cheeks with the other. “The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is He of whom I said, ‘After me comes a Man who is preferred before me, for He was before me.' I did not know Him; but that He should be revealed to Israel, therefore I came baptizing with water.” My chest felt like it might burst with love for My cousin. I waded up to him as he spoke, positioning Myself to be baptized as the others before Me had done. His expression changed from awestruck to appalled, and he held up his hands in protest.  “I need to be baptized by You,” he protested, “and are You coming to me?”  “Let it be so now, for it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness,” I told him. He shook his head, but in wonder, not refusal. I knelt down, plugged My nose, and closed My eyes, as My cousin took hold of my shoulders and lowered Me below the chilly rushing waters. He lifted Me out again, and I shook My hair and beard, water streaming from My face as I wiped it away. The sky above us was cloudless that day, but even so, it seemed to part like a pair of blue curtains. Beyond it, I saw the scene Ezekiel had described: a still sapphire sea, and a throne surrounded by an emerald rainbow. The One on the throne was all flame and rainbow, more glorious than the sun.  “Father,” I whispered. It was the first time I had ever seen Him with My human eyes.  He rose to His feet, and threw something in the air. As it descended through the parted sky, I could make out the form of a gleaming white dove. It landed on My shoulder. “Holy Spirit!” I breathed, like embracing an old friend. He burned Me, but without pain, as Moses' bush had burned without being consumed. “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased!” My Father declared.  With that, the sky rolled back across the heavenly scene like a scroll. The dove too had vanished, and the burning faded—but He was upon Me still, just like He had come upon the prophets of old in power. I knew He would be with Me from now on, until My mission here was complete.  I turned to John, curious whether he had seen and heard what I had, or whether that had just been for Me. His awestruck expression, still turned toward the sky, told Me all I needed to know. Then he looked back at Me.  “How long have You known?” he murmured.  I smiled back at him. “As far back as I can remember.”  “And yet You never told me!” It was an accusation, but then he held up a hand and said, “No no, I understand. It was better this way. I'd have asked far too many questions, though by all rights I should have guessed.” He shook his head and added to himself, “I must have been intentionally blinded until now; it's the most obvious thing in the world—Jesus! where are You going?”   I was wading back to the banks, and already the crowds had parted to make way for Me. I pointed up to the heavens. “The Spirit compels Me away from here just as surely as if He tugged Me by the hand. I must go.”  “Where?” John called after me. “I'll come with You!”  “Into the wilderness, and I must go alone,” I called, giving him an apologetic glance. “You, meanwhile, still have work to do here.” I cast him one more grin, and made my way through the crowds gazing at Me with amazement on the banks, My robes streaming with water and gathering mud at the hems.   I walked out into the lonely places of Israel, as the chatter of the crowds grew distant behind Me. My clothing dried and stiffened with the sediment from the Jordan as the day progressed. Wild animals heard my footsteps and fled as I drew near. The Holy Spirit pulled me deeper and deeper into the wilderness.  Yet there was another presence here too, besides Him and Me. I felt, though I did not see him yet. His hatred pulsed all around Me, like the heat radiating from the sun. It was almost tangible.  I made camp that first night after the sun went down, and lay My head upon a flat stone for a pillow. I closed My eyes. It was then that I heard the first whispers.  You imagined it all, Satan taunted. There was no open heaven, no Father, no Holy Spirit. You suffer from delusions of grandeur. What are You but a poor dead carpenter's son? I huffed and turned over. “It just happened today,” I said aloud. “At least have the decency to wait a few days before you try to make Me doubt it.”  He fell silent for perhaps an hour. Then when I hovered in that space between sleep and waking, he whispered, You're not the Messiah. You've never done any miracles in your life. John is greater than You are!  I groaned, mostly annoyed to be disturbed out of slumber. Aloud, I countered in a voice thick with sleep, “Born in Bethlehem, of a virgin, from the tribe of Judah and of the line of David. I was called out of Egypt, while Herod massacred the children two and under at the time of my birth. My cousin, also born of a miracle, came in the spirit and power of Elijah and has been my forerunner for six months…” I kept quoting prophecies I had fulfilled already until I sensed that Satan had given up for the night. Then I breathed a sigh of relief, and drifted off at last. Day and night, this cycle repeated—intensely for the first three days, when I was hungriest. By the third day, my hunger receded, and so did the whispers. After that, Satan's daily temptations seemed almost halfhearted, and he gave up easily. “Isn't that just like you,” I panted to him aloud as I crested a hill with a large tree where I could rest in the shade. “Not one to waste your efforts in a battle you know you cannot win!”  I knew I would not feel hunger again for the most part until I literally began to starve, which would happen around day forty. I did not know how long the Holy Spirit intended for me to spend out in the wilderness, though I guessed forty days and nights—that number recurred throughout scripture. The hardest battle would come near the end, when I was at my weakest, both physically and emotionally.  Until then, I walked, I rested, and just when I could stand my thirst no more, I came across streams and springs where I slaked my parched tongue. I quoted the Pentateuch to Myself aloud. I sang the Psalms, inventing melodies for some of them that had never been set to music in My day. I talked to the Father and to the Holy Spirit, though I got no more audible or miraculous responses as I had in the Jordan.  What are You doing out here? What is the point? Satan whispered several weeks in.  “Symbolism,” I informed him, as much for My benefit as for his. “The Israelites left their old life in Egypt, were ‘baptized' as they passed through the Red Sea, and entered the wilderness, where they learned trust and dependence upon God day by day, despite constant opportunities to doubt. Forty years for them; forty days for Me. Then they entered the Promised Land, through the Jordan at flood stage. Jordan means ‘destroyer,' which symbolizes you, of course. The waters of the ‘destroyer' parted and were cut off all the way back to the city called Adam. It was, for them, as if the fall had never happened, as long as they remained on the right side of the covenant. You had no power over them anymore. Only then did they began their work of taking territory and slaying giants. In the same way, after I defeat you in the wilderness, then My ministry will begin. Then I will take down your ‘giants' of sickness, death, and disease, set the captives free, and proclaim the good news of the kingdom.”  If this is Your wilderness experience like what the Israelites experienced, then where is your manna? Satan sneered. God fed the Israelites, but He's happy to let You starve. You know why? You're not really His son. He'll let You die out here like the blasphemer You are. I rolled My eyes at this attempt, though in truth, My stomach responded differently. It growled at the thought of manna.  The awakened hunger persisted after that. At first upon is return, it gnawed here and there and then quieted for the rest of the day. It was worse on the days when I did not come upon a stream. A belly heavy with water could soothe the ravenous beast for awhile.  By day forty, though, the hunger was constant and nearly unbearable. I hardly felt the Holy Spirit's presence at all, but Satan's whispers seemed always just behind Me.  I squinted against the glare of the midday sun, not sure if My eyes were playing tricks on Me. But surely if I were to see a mirage, the shriveled, misshapen being before Me is not what I would have conjured.  “Satan,” I greeted the creature. I had never seen him before with My human eyes, yet I recognized him at once. I looked him up and down, noting the leathery skin like that of a bat, the emaciated features, the beady flashing red eyes. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” I commented. My human eyes had never beheld him in his pre-fall glory either, but I knew the story from Isaiah.  His lip curled at this, returning the inspection. “I could say the same of You, if You truly were who You claimed to be. But You and I both know You're not. At least I once glowed brighter than the morning star. You, on the other hand…” he gave a wheezy laugh. “A delusional carpenter whom God will permit to die of starvation in the wilderness, whose carcass will be picked clean by the vultures.”  “How well-named you are,” I retorted. Satan meant accuser.  “If You are the Son of God,” he returned, circling Me like one of the vultures he had referenced, “command that these stones become bread.” He gestured at a large boulder at my feet.  Immediately My stomach gave a loud, painful growl. Unbidden, I saw the hot loaf in My mind's eye, dripping with butter, sweetened with honey. My mouth flooded with saliva I could ill afford to spare: I was dehydrated enough.  But I had not quoted the Pentateuch for forty days and nights for nothing. I knew the stories: God gave Moses the rod that he used in power to deliver the Israelites from every one of their challenges, and yet he was only to use it as God had prescribed. He could not bring water out of any rock, nor could he do it by any method he chose. When he forgot this, he had forfeited his own right to enter the Promised Land. In the same way, the power of the Holy Spirit was Mine, but I could not use it when and how I pleased—lest I forfeit My Promised Land.  “It is written,” I panted back, swallowing back the saliva, “‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.'” Satan knew the reference as I did: it was from Deuteronomy. His beady eyes flashed, but he tried to control his expression. I should have felt a flash of triumph, but all I felt was hungry.  Satan circled Me, and fastened his reptilian hands upon My wrists. In a whirl of wind and the blink of an eye, he spirited us together to the pinnacle of the temple of Jerusalem. My eyes widened and I took a step back from the ledge, as down below I saw the bustle of the crowd of worshippers, or priests bearing lambs or goats they had just bought and washed for sacrifice. They did not seem to see us—yet.  “Prince of the power of the air,” I murmured to Myself, amazed. It was an impressive trick.  He smirked at me, and gave an exaggerated little bow. Then his proud expression hardened and he took a step closer to me—too close. “If You are the Son of God,” he hissed, and gestured at the ledge casually, “throw Yourself down.” His words again conjured a clear picture in my mind: the gasps, the cheers, the crowds flocking to Me in amazement. What a spectacular way to announce My ministry! Satan shrugged and added, “For it is written: ‘He shall give His angels charge over you,' and, ‘In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone.'” I gnashed My teeth together. That was a misquote of Psalm 91. Technically it was correct, but it was completely out of context. It angered Me how subtle his lies were, though less for Myself, and more for all those precious ones whom I knew he would lead astray with exactly this kind of deceit throughout the ages. I retorted, “It is also written, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God!'” This was also from Deuteronomy. “Don't play this game with Me, Satan. You think you know the word better than I do? I am the Word. You cannot win.”  “Oh, can't I?” he whispered back, clutching My wrists in his fists once again. I did not know where he planned to take Me now, but I knew he would choose a different tactic this time. He couldn't make Me doubt My identity, so— I caught My breath. We were at the top of a snow-capped mountain, well above the clouds, though I did not feel cold. This was a vision, I realized. I looked down, and all around me I saw—time. All of it. From the beginning to the end, every glittering kingdom of earth merged with one another, their rising and falling, their wealth and their greatness. But even more than this, I saw the people in those kingdoms: great and small, young and old, good and evil. My heart ached. They were why I had come. I longed for them, so desperately—My sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, all lost and hopeless and hurting without Me! Satan leaned so close to My ear that I could feel his breath upon My neck.  “All this authority I will give you, and their glory. It has been delivered to me, and I give it to whomever I wish. If You will fall down and worship me, all will be Yours.”  I whirled on him, horrified at the longing I felt. Adam gave the authority of all the earth to him, and he offered it back to Me now. It was precisely what I had come to reclaim, and he now offered Me a shortcut—without the sacrifice.  Without the cross.  “Away with you, Satan!” I snapped. “For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve!'” His expression sank into a deep scowl, and he bared his pointed yellowed teeth at Me. Then in a whirlwind, he was gone. I found Myself alone in the wilderness once again, on My hands and knees, panting.  Then I felt a hand on My shoulder. I jerked back, expecting to see Satan once again, but I softened when I saw a beautiful face I somehow also recognized.  “Gabriel?” He smiled at me tenderly, and gestured behind him. There, I saw a cake sizzling upon a stone, and a jug of water. My stomach gave an answering, painful growl. I thought at once of the story of Elijah in the wilderness as he fled to Mount Sinai, and an angel met him along the way with just such refreshment as this.  Gabriel hovered just behind me as I wolfed down the repast, closing My eyes in bliss as I savored the flavors. The cake was smaller than I would have liked, but I also knew better than to break such a long fast with a large meal. Nevertheless, had I had the option, it would have been hard to resist.  When I had finished, I turned back to Gabriel.  “I wonder that I have never met him before,” I said, meaning Satan. “But then, I've never drawn attention to Myself before.”  The angel nodded, and pointed at the sky with a slight smirk. “That got his attention, I think.”  I laughed, and then grew thoughtful. “Yes. But I needed it, too.” Of course, I literally needed the power of the Spirit to begin My ministry—but what I meant was that I had emotionally needed the open vision and the Father's voice, too. After thirty years of obscurity, I had not doubted My identity per se, but the overt confirmation had certainly been a relief. Gabriel understood this.   “That has always been the struggle,” Gabriel agreed. “Physical manifestations of power alert Satan to where the battle is.” Then he added, “He gave up for now, but he'll be back, whenever he thinks You're at Your most vulnerable. He's like the Amalekites in that way.”  I gave a short laugh, catching the reference to the tribe that had first attacked the Israelites in the wilderness by picking off the weak and stragglers among them. “Of course he is. The Amalekites got that strategy from him.” I sighed and mused to Myself, “I'll have to be careful. Anything I say plainly or do in the natural realm is double-edged: he can see or hear it just as surely as those for whom it is intended. Which is why so many of the prophets spoke in mysteries and dark sayings.”  Gabriel sank down to the ground beside Me, mimicking My posture with his arms around his knees. “He never understood any of the prophecies about You until it was too late,” the angel agreed. “Oh, he knew vaguely of course: Seed of Eve, line of Abraham, and that kind of thing—so he did his best to corrupt the earth, keep Abraham's line barren until there were too many of them to bother with that strategy, and then kill or corrupt the Jews in general. But if he could have narrowed it down to Your exact line…” He shook his head. “Even at the time of Your birth, the best he could do was inspire Herod to kill all the babies two and under in Israel. He didn't understand that—” “‘Out of Egypt I have called My Son,'” I finished, quoting from Hosea.  Gabriel nodded. “Right. He was looking for you in the wrong country. The truth was written in black and white—” “But in a dark saying,” I agreed, and bit My lip. I thought of David's seemingly superfluous musical gift of the harp, which turned out to be his ticket into Saul's palace. I, likewise, had a gift for story telling. Now I understood why. I looked up at Gabriel.  “I am to teach the people in parables,” I realized. “So that ‘they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding'…”  “Except for those whose hearts have been prepared to perceive and to understand,” Gabriel agreed.  “By My cousin.” I gave a short laugh, and then sighed. “Even then, I'll have to be careful what I say. He'll be watching Me very closely from now on.”  Gabriel stood and brushed himself off, which was also My cue that it was time to head back to Capernaum.  “Yes,” he said, “I daresay Satan won't take his eyes off of You for a second, from this moment on.” 

Unbidden is an adjective that means unsolicited or uninvited. The German word bitten (BIT en) means ‘to ask.’ This word has evolved into the word bid, which means ‘to command or invite.’ When someone does something unbidden they do it without having been asked or demanded. For example: It was nice of Johnny to make the unbidden offer of helping with the cookout, especially since he wasn’t even requested to do so. But after eating the horrible omelets he cooked for us, we soon realized why no one requested him to help with the cookout.

Grab your favorite book Off the Shelf and take an Art Break with us! We're kicking off the premiere of our newest segment, Off the Shelf, with ISC Co-Founder and Managing Director, David Melville reading a classic, light-hearted short story, "Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest" from My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse. One of many Wodehouse short stories, "Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest" features the young Bertie Wooster, his valet, Jeeves, and Motty, the son of an aristocratic friend, who Jeeves and Bertie must get out of trouble. David grew up in the UK where attended the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art and began his career as an actor. In 1995 he met Melissa Chalsma when they were both cast in a Broadway production of HAMLET. They married 10 months later and co-founded Independent Shakespeare Co. shortly after that. David has directed and appeared in many ISC productions. Recent roles include Bottom, Titus Andronicus, Julius Caesar and Feste. David has composed music for many ISC shows and co-wrote the original musicals RED BARN and ANITA BERBER IS DEAD! TV and Film includes LAWRENCE OF AMERICA, STARGATE ORIGINS, IRONCLAD, PERFECTION, THE UNDERSTUDY and ISC’s recent ROMEO & JULIET. When asked why he selected this short story to read, David responded, "P.G. Wodehouse is often referred to as the funniest writer in the English language. Dipping into his work always cheers me up and, as we all probably need a bit of cheering up right now, I thought it might be appropriate to read one of his short stories for this series. JEEVES AND THE UNBIDDEN GUEST is one of the earliest Jeeves and Wooster capers, first published in the Saturday Evening Post in December 1916 and later in the collection MY MAN JEEVES. Surprisingly, when we are introduced to Bertie, he is not in his native England but enjoying a lengthy stay in New York. I chose this particular story as it didn’t have any characters with tricky American accents. I hope you enjoy listening, it was certainly a joy to record." Enjoy David's lively voicing of P.G. Wodehouse's cheery, slapstick humor for this week's Art Break. Follow us! Website: www.iscla.org Instagram & Twitter: @indyshakes Facebook: Independent Shakespeare Co.

Hey, everyone! Jimbo here

Hey, everyone! Jimbo here

My guest couldn't make the interview, so I'll be doing something different for this week's episode. I read "Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest," a short story by master humorist P.G. Wodehouse. Enjoy! I'll be back next week with another interview.UPDATE: The podcast is now available on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher and more!Please subscribe to, rate, and review the showHave thoughts about the show or other feedback? Send me an email: speakeasylibrary@gmail.comFollow the show on Instagram and Twitter

Julia Nickson (Rambo: First Blood Part II, The Unbidden) and YouTuber Lizzy Capri headline this Tibetan and Burmese tale about finding treasure, playing tricks, and monkeying around.

In Buddhist countries, the general rubric for appearances is that modest is hottest. I knew they wouldn't let me into Yangon's famous Shwedagon pagoda with my knees showing. Frankly, I'm surprised they let me into the country with my suitcase full of short-shorts. Officials could have scanned my baggage upon arrival and confiscated them with a disapproving look that said "You aren't planning on traipsing around our country in that skimpy outfit, are you?" And so on my way to the main temple, I decided to pick up one of the sarongs that the rest of the male population here seems to be so keen on. It seemed likely I'd get a better deal on the streets than right outside the gates. I approached a vendor and pointed at an article from a stack of skirts with a pattern that caught my eye. It was a light blue gingham, the very same pattern that one hundred percent of white office-going males have in their closet as a button-up shirt. I presented the man with a wad of cash, and with a huge grin he outfitted me in my longyi. I didn't know it at the time, but the acquisition of this article of clothing would be a game-changer for me in Myanmar.A modest crowd began to gather as the transaction took place. A number of men wandered over to see what was up, in the way that men do when, say, they hear a neighbor engaged in a project employing power tools. Evident from their peering in, they were curious about the minor details of the enterprise: Which pattern did I choose? How much did I pay? Would I actually wear it? I have little expertise in sarongs, but I sort of figured that the standard model would fit like a bath towel wrapped around one's waist. Instead, the longyi is one circular piece of fabric, like one of those self-drying fabric hand-towels on an infinite loop. Fully unfurled, it reaches to just below belly-button height. Given that it was essentially like swimming in a skirt large enough to fit Shrek's wife, it wasn't immediately obvious to me how I was supposed to wear it. Identifying my confusion, this hefty Burmese man, in a ritual that would be repeated many times over the next couple of weeks, positioned himself at my backside and reached around to grab the fabric covering my frontside. "It's very easy," he said, and in a series of deft motions tied me up so tight I felt like I was wearing a corset. I gave a once around, as if modeling for a mirror. The lady sitting behind me hit me with a thumbs up."Wait," I said, pausing for a moment. I asked him to demonstrate once more. "It's very easy," he repeated as if that made the process self-evident. He went slower this time, undoing the knot at my waist and grabbing me by the cloth at my haunches. He settled himself into a position of strength at my backside. "Oneee," he said, deliberately folding the cloth in his right hand across toward my left. "Twoooo," in an act of symmetry, folding the left side toward the right. "Three!" And in a flourish of prestidigitation he transformed the two unruly clumps in his fists into a handsome but inscrutable knot perched right below my belly button. I gave him a look that communicated my befuddlement. Undoing his handiwork and sighing, he said "Pay attention this time," as if my drifting gaze had prevented me from taking in the previous demonstrations. Now the crowd joined in. They counted together, "Oneeee... Twoo..." involving the same deliberate folding, and punctuated by an ecstatic "Three!!" which brought on another electron cloud of hand motions. I offered my tailor a look somewhere in the ballpark of "Eurka!" and with that took my leave of my applauding admirers, shaking hands and waving grandly as a I went, strutting off in my longyi toward the pagoda.The road leading up to Yangon's Shwedagon pagoda resembles a sort of Buddhist version of the Las Vegas strip. It is shiny, extravagant, ostentatious. Each chunk of real estate on either side of the street is taken up with a gleaming temple rising out of a lush courtyard. Each temple has a Buddha statue in the center. But it wouldn't feel entirely out of a place if instead at its pulsing heart was a slot machine. Unlike Vegas, it isn't populated with American tourists spilling out of their tank tops like pudding squeezed from a plastic cup. It is populated mostly with no one. There may have been a lot of action playing out on the spiritual plane of existence. But my senses were only availed of the physical one, and there wasn't a whole lot going on there.Which is a truly startling sight. These are the kind of attraction tourists flock to. These pagodas are stunning, and they aren't even the main event. They are the opening act, culminating in the glorious peak of the Shwedagon. Like the muscular V of an underwear model, these minor temples are a tantalizing allusion to what lies just out of sight. But they still retain a certain grandeur in their own right. If these structures had been erected in Thailand, they'd be crawling in westerners. Here it was me, and one guy languishing out front of his convenience store, slumped over until rousted by an errant customer.The Shwedagon pagoda is the religious epicenter of Myanmar. Today it stands as a magnificent golden bell, like what God would pick up and ring if it were time for the chillun to come in for supper. Every Myanmartian will, at some point in their lives, make the pilgrimage to see it. Purportedly, the original pagoda was installed on this site more than twenty-five hundred years ago. The temple has been built up over many years. According to contemporary accounts, two brothers named Trapusa and Bahalika became the first disciples of the Buddha drawn from the lay population. In a surge of inspiration these two enterprising merchants snipped eight strands -- a religiously significant number -- of the Buddha's hair and journeyed to Burma. With the help of the local ruler, one mister King Okkalapa of Dagon, they installed these hairs as the centerpiece of a magnificent temple. What exactly they said to persuade King Okkalapa of the religious merit of these eight strands of hair, history has failed to record.Anywhere else in the world, a major temple like this would be infested with tourists. The be-camera'd tourist to actual buddhist ratio would be, like, 100:1. There would be a cacophony of children whose command over the English language is just sufficient to explain to you how your refusal to part ways with your money in exchange for their trinkets results in their not being able to afford dinner. People would be crawling over the temples like monkeys swinging between trees. Queues of people would assemble to snap a photo -- just the right photo -- in front of the most prestigious institutional ornament. This is, for example, what it's like to visit one of the bigger temples in Thailand.But crossing the street onto the premises of the Shwedagon, one could be forgiven for not realizing you are on the cusp of Myanmar's most significant religious attraction. It was quiet. The only person there to greet me was a lone child, offering a plastic bag in which to put my shoes. It almost felt as if he were offering it in a spirit of community service rather than opportunistic capitalism. He asked twice just to make sure I understood the value-add of his wares. Then he disappeared.There is a grand prelude of a staircase that ascends through a small mountainside of stalls. I removed my sandals before ascending. It was a stark contrast, coming in from the insistent Burmese sun into a dark, covered hall. The stalls lining the staircase sold mostly buddhist paraphernalia. Little statues, books in Burmese, shirts. No one approaches you to inform you of a "good deal for you, my friend." They simply leave you to go about your business. Even here I noticed some glances, and the shopkeepers seemed rather impressed by my longyi. The whole scene is modest, unobtrusive, clean but not overly kempt. There was no fee until the very top of the hall, right before the plateau, the holy of holies.Upon reaching the top of the hall, there is an outpost of security personnel. They ushered me through a metal detector. Then they asked to peak inside my skirt. In a series of routine movements, the guard undid me, took a quick look, then zipped me back up. Although slightly disturbed, I was also somewhat thankful about this since I had been futzing with the knot, trying without success to reverse engineer it for the last twenty-five minutes or so. Having been vetted by security, I was asked to sign in on a tourist sheet. I counted exactly twenty other visitors on the sign-in sheet that day from seven in the morning until noon. This one was of four entrances. None of the other visitors were from the United States.I emerged from the dark corridor to find an ascendant gold bell power-posing in front of me. It was surrounded by a white lake of marble tile. All was bright and glimmering. The white marble connected a complex of smaller pagodas, hundreds of them, each with an intricate gold-fringed verandas, a unique Buddha visage, and a cohort of meditators in various forms of repose. There were so few people as to make one almost feel out to sea. Entire sections were unpeopled. It would be possible for one to become rather well acquainted with every other western visitor on the terrace. The Buddhist to tourist ratio was flipped, maybe fifty people who are there for religious purposes to every one person, like me, who was just there to have a look around. Modest though they are, there's no doubt that Buddhists harbor a certain appreciation for icy flair that could rival a hip hop artist. Every possible surface that can be is ornamented. Everything was decked out in tufts of gold leaf inlays, as if the design on a Victorian tea cup had sprung into three dimensions and rolled around in precious material. The bell itself exerted a sort of attentional gravity. It stands in the center with all subsidiary dioramas in orbit. It constantly draws your attention and admiration back. Part of the spectacle is that judging from everyone's behavior, there is no spectacle. People are just going about their daily business. They are, in turns, texting, meditating, wandering with purpose, ambling about. I'm one of the few standing there trying to drink in the surroundings. The majority hold themselves with reverence, but don't gawk. It makes the entire scene seem more surreal, more heavenly. I imagine this is a kind of inverse of what visiting Disneyland would be like as a Buddhist monk, standing in awe of how mundane that level garishness seems to be for everyone else.I exited down the western escalator, headed in a different direction than the one I came. It felt slightly perilous taking the escalator in bare feet. Like I might get a toe snipped off. Back on the street, each local I passed gave me a once-over, admiring my longyi. I was the target of innumerably many thumbs up and nods.Admittedly, I've made quite a bit about how Yangon feels different than other places in South East Asia. Especially the low density of tourists. But it really does make a difference. It changes your whole relationships to the people who are from there. In a city or region that depends economically on tourism, your relationship to its people is transactive. To the people sitting in stalls as you walk through the market, you are a walking bag of money. Whether or not they can feed their kids today depends on whether they're able to up-sell you for a product you don't need or want. In order to keep the wheels turning they need to sell things to tourists, and they need to sell them at a markup. So as nice or welcoming as that person behind the stall might be -- and you know they probably are, because everyone you've met in the country on different terms is -- your relationship is defined in purely economic terms. You have money. They need it. The whole dance is a transaction.But that changes in a place where the majority of economic activity does not depend on tourism. In a market in Yangon, sure, a guy wouldn't mind up-selling to a white person. Who says no to a few extra bucks? But his economic livelihood doesn't depend on it. He's going to have a steady stream of regular customers to form the base of his income stream. The implication is that he doesn't have to go all-in on the hard-sell. He'll give you the white person mark-up -- hell, you probably deserve it -- but if it doesn't take, then oh well. Because they have yet to establish a tourist economy to compete with Thailand or Vietnam, the people of Myanmar don't have to have the same transactive relationship with foreigners.This means that instead of being treated like a dollar sign with legs, you're treated as something closer to an honored guest. You're interesting -- in the way that all people who are clearly not from around here are interesting. That's the 'guest' part. The 'honored' part has a couple different factors at play. For one thing, the Myanmar people are, simply put, are really f*****g nice. And they deserve credit for that. But for another thing, they appreciate the political and economic opportunities represented by the West. There is an appreciation that they've got the short end of the stick in terms of government policy for the past half century or so. Good or bad, they want a piece of the action that's going on the in rest of the world. As an immediately identifiable westerner, you are a symbol of action beginning to take place. At any rate, what I'm trying to say is that it is remarkably refreshing to find oneself in an Asian city that has the developed infrastructure of a prominent metropolitan area but without the over-developed tourist economy. It allows you to connect with the people less on economic terms, and more on human ones.Walking home through the city from the temple, I passed a row of fruit stalls. I saw a guy selling pineapples. He'd take the skin off with a machete and present the fruit on a skewer. That sounded like the kind of thing I could go for at the moment. I walked up and told him I'd like one. He looked me in the eye. "1,000," he said. About 80 cents.Then he looked down, saw my longyi, and gave a relenting shrug. Unbidden, he made a new offer. "500."I've never been so thrilled about a forty cent discount in my entire life.Toward the end of my stay in Yangon, I went to go make arrangements for transportation to my next destination. It was still a couple days before Christmas, and I wanted to make my way over to Bagan before Christmas Eve. My hope -- what seemed at the time like a well-fortified plan, really -- had been that I'd strut into the train station in my longyi and acquire a ticket for the next day's passage to Bagan in the sleeper class. Maybe prebook a meal and have them put a bottle of pinot grigio on ice for me. That isn't exactly how it happened.Presenting myself at the entrance to the station a man from the taxi queue called for my attention with a line to the effect of "Hey bro, nice longyi." I replied in thanks. He informed me that I'd tied it wrong. This is the equivalent in this country to having something in your teeth. Everyone will notice, but few will say anything. Without my having to acknowledge this fact, he saddled up behind me and gave me what I'd come to think of as a good old fashioned Rangoon reach-around. He was even kind enough to provide me with instructions. "Oneee," he said, as he folded the clothe in his right hand to the clothe in his left. "Twoooo," doing the same with his left hand. On "Three!" -- his hands whirring like a jar of fire flies -- he knotted a tight little bun at my waist. "Now you try," he told me."One..." I started. "Two...""Very good," he encouraged.When I announced my attempt at "three" my bun fell apart in a lifeless poof, leaving me holding my skirt up with my hands."Hmm... That's not quite it," he allowed.Having gamely given instruction a shot, he tied me up without counting this time. Thanking him for the sartorial assistance, I started into the station. He came with me."Where are you from?" he asked. This is the question de rigueur no matter where one is in the world. Whether in Zimbabwe, the Philippines, or anywhere that English is spoken but not necessarily the native language, it's what people ask you. I imagine the English textbooks in these countries feature the same templated conversations that the Spanish and French ones do in America. "Where are you from?" "The weather is warm." "The window in the café is open."Having explicated this theory to him, I informed him I was from the United States. He asked me about my itinerary, and I told him I planned to get a ticket to Bagan."Ah," he said. "You will not be able to get a ticket to Bagan."The first reason, he explained to me, is that one doesn't buy train tickets at the train station. You buy them at the place where they sell train tickets, which, apparently, is across the highway. He encouraged me to go into the station and ask for a ticket. I wouldn't be able to do it. I walked over to what appeared to be a sign board with the names of destinations and a ticket-seller below. No dice."It's okay," he said. "I'll walk you there.""Really?" I said. "You don't have to do that."As we made our way together across the highway overpass, he explained the second reason why I wouldn't be able to get a ticket. It was the holiday season, and all the trains would likely already be full up."Oh," I said."Yes," he said, and continued to explain how in the weeks around Christmas and New Year the entire country criss crosses in an attempt to return to one's family and native lands. So much for escaping the holidays.When we got to the ticket purchasing station, the man and I walked up to a gentleman standing outside the area designated for the queue. This was where, in retrospect, a little sleight of hand may have occurred. My friend and his colleague -- potentially a representative of the train company; potentially a confederate --exchanged a few words, which evidently supplied my friend with the intelligence that there were no available spots on a train to Bagan for the next ten days. This left me somewhat surprised. But never having dealt with cross-country transportation in Myanmar before, I was simply thankful to have a liaison to hold my hand while I navigated through it. For as soon as I began to worry, my liaison told me that I could probably still snag a spot on a night bus. He knew just the place.And again we set off to yet another location. Only a few blocks down a side street, he escorted me into a travel agency. They informed me that I had come just in time. There were still a few open spots on night buses over the coming weeks, but they were filling fast. I should book my entire trip now. Hardly being able to believe my good fortune at coming across the opportunity to make my entire slate of arrangements in a timely manner -- just imagine if I had waited another week to book the rest of them! -- I conjured up an itinerary on the spot. Happily, they pointed me in the direction of the nearest ATM so I could withdraw several briefcases full of cash to remunerate them for their assistance. My liaison remained by my side the entire time, just to make sure I was well taken care of. I parted from the scene with a series of grand waves, expressions of gratitude, thanking each of them for their help as well as their friendship, and shaking each hand heartily. Then I set off back into the city, feeling secure in the promise of future movement, and flush with the extra cash I'd withdrawn wadded up in my pockets.After wandering for a bit I stopped in at a coffee shop to celebrate my good fortune with a latte. I was in the part of town with the highest density of white people. Evidently, this was the central expat district. It's not always easy to get a decent espresso drink in most parts of Yangon -- there are no Starbucks in the country, which in most cities has proved something of a gateway drug to more boutique coffee shops -- and so I figured I'd take this opportunity to indulge.Having sat for a while reading a book of essays by Aung Sang Suu Kyi, I got up to pay. It was while I was settling up that a man entered the café and made a bee-line for the register. Midway through unfurling my wad of cash, the man looked me in the eyes."Hey," he said. "Do you want to come pick up trash for an hour? It's part of a competition. I need people."I stared at him for a few seconds, searching my entire mental repository for the faintest hint of a reason why the answer wouldn't automatically be "no." I sought to clarify the proposition."Let me get this straight," I said. "You're asking me to come with you to pick up trash?""Yes," he said."For the next hour?" I said."Yes," he said."And we'd be doing it as part of some competition?""Yes," he said, waiting on my answer. I shrugged."Okay."What the hell else have I got to do?Setting aside any further interrogatives, I followed him out of the café. He took me across the street to his restaurant, which served Japanese fare. Then I realized I had heard of this place before."Hey," I asked. "Do you guys have jazz here on Friday nights?""Yeah," he said. "How did you know?"I told him about Yuki, the jazz singer I had met the other night at the rooftop bar. She had mentioned this place. She's been sitting in on their Friday sessions for quite some time. With the acquaintance of this man, I believe I had successfully infiltrated the ranks of the entire Myanmar-Japanese jazz circuit.Next thing I knew it was me and a crew of the restaurant's employees. Apparently, the man's recruitment strategy hadn't proved especially effective -- though evidently effective enough to achieve quorum. Disposable gloves were handed out, as were trash bags. Our cohort set off down the street, like an amoeba picking up whatever it came across in the course of locomotion."So," I asked, "what exactly is this competition?""It's a cocktail competition," he said.A discussion ensued. He had filed an entry in a world-wide competition, sponsored by Bacardi, and as part of the submission each entrant was required to do a certain amount of service in their community. As it turned out, this guy was the head bartender of the premier craft cocktail establishment in the city. He would be going to Puerto Rico the following month to visit the Bacardi headquarters and compete in the finals, preparing his cocktail for a panel of esteemed cocktail aficionados. I asked him about his submission. He called it the "Kalay pop." He had grown up in a region of Myanmar, on the western border, called Kalay. One of his fondest memories as a child was a man who went around with a cart that held a stash of frozen banana pops, ringing a bell to alert everyone of his presence. Essentially the rural Myanmar version of the ice cream man. He sought to reconstitute this childhood pleasure in cocktail form in a take on the classic banana daiquiri: a base of white rum, lime, fresh banana syrup, with an herbally dash of Benedictine liqueur and rounded out with a touch of sesame oil. Just like the ice cream man used to make 'em.As a result of our endeavor, I can say from experience that the only thing more amusing than a white guy walking down the street in a longyi is a white guy walking down the street in a longyi picking up trash as the intriguingly ugly, conspicuously taller duckling in a brood of locals. I was the subject of quite a few iPhone portraits. Whether or not I was the subject of an equal number of Instagram stories that day, I was unable to ascertain.Finished with our community service, we returned to the restaurant. Our crew was rewarded for the work with a round of the competition-winning cocktail. Not one to let a good seat at the bar go to waste, I made reference to the other competition cocktails we had talked about on our walk. He made me a few rounds of his greatest hits. He also comped me a couple dishes off the menu. I continued reading my book while I consumed my gratis fare. Good God, I don't think I've ever loved a country more than Myanmar in that moment. Sated, I bid him adieu, told him I'd be back, and trundled out of the restaurant, sufficiently liquored up for the rest of my afternoon.My next stop for the day, and the final destination on my list for Yangon, was Dala, the rural village on the other side of the river from the main city. There is a ferry ride that travels between the downtown area and Dala. As far as ferry rides go, it was not the world's most exquisite. I wouldn't go as far as to say the Yangon River is putrid, but it errs more on the side of sludge than sparkle. Whereas the port on the Yangon side is situated in a dense cosmopolitan area, the port on the Dala side immediate recedes into rural obscurity. I contemplated this observation as I alighted from the ferry. My plan was to walk around. Just to see what was over there. As ever, I didn't really know where I was going, what I could expect to see, nor the best means of either going or seeing. In the flood of humanity coming off the boat, everyone jetted off in particular directions, toward wherever it was they were going. I idled. An obvious target, I was accosted by any number of men offering services, tours, trinkets, this and that. I declined all, having spent my store of credulous generosity for the day.But soon shortly after making my way down the obvious path of the main street I realized I was walking into nothing in particular. Not only was there not an obvious next path, but there didn't even really seem to be any paths at all. There were just roads, awash in waves of motor bikes, tuk tuks, and bicycles. Further on, another man on a bicycle peddled up next to me. He had a passenger car attached to his bike, like a sideways rickshaw."I take you around," he said, moving along next to me."No thanks," I said, instinctively."Where you going?" he said. "Village very far.""How far?" I asked."Very far," he said. I had no counter-evidence with which to dispute the accuracy of this assessment."How much?" I said.He quoted me a price somewhere in the neighborhood of five bucks American for two hours. Then I acquiesced. At this price point, I'm worth it.And so the man and I puttered around the several villages of Dala. There was the fishing village. There was the bamboo village. The names didn't describe the content of the villages, evidently, so much as the villager's occupations. Each was a tight collection of single-room huts, mostly stilted above the estuary that ran through them. No electricity. No running water. The commode consisted of a platform with a hole in it positioned over the river. Trash everywhere. Trash for products they didn't even appear to consume. It was like the community version of the room inhabited by Danny DeVito and Charlie Day in the TV show It's Always Sunny. The perfect distillation of filth and squalor. That's not to say it was offensively shabby. But it was undeniably in disrepair.At one of the houses he pointed, "My babies." This was where his family lived.Another one of the places he indicated was a coffee shop. It was the building in the village with the greatest investment in infrastructure. It was an open air terrace. There was a sink, a concrete floor. There were advertisements for energy drinks and for the local Myanmar beer."This is my coffee shop," he said."This is where you go for coffee?" I said. "Can we stop?""You want to stop?" He said. I don't think any of his customers had ever suggested this.And so the bike halted, and we stepped off to take a seat at one of the plastic chairs. It was empty except for one other table, with a father and son sitting together and quietly eying us as we walked in. The garçon came over to take our order. I told my guide to get us two coffees; I'd pay. The boy came back with a small carafe of hot water. Two cups of questionable cleanliness with a packet of Nestlé instant coffee. Sip for sip, it was undoubtedly the worse cup of coffee I've ever had. We sat for a few minutes of sipping interspersed with conversation -- both of us contemplating, from separate perspectives, what exactly would have possessed me to want to hop off the bike and drink this swill. I asked how much, covered his coffee for this time and the next, and then we took leave of the café, nodding to the father and son as we went.The good news, I suppose, is that we passed several modern buildings, which would not be out of place in a more affluent area. The first he pointed out as "my babies' school." It looked like a normal school yard that one would see in any other rural community. A single large building, covered in murals drawn by little hands, and a fenced off playground. Maybe the school building is a signal that Dala will look very different for the next generation, having received an education that their parents didn't.The second building was a tavern of sorts. While we didn't go inside, the tavern intrigued me. It boasted a huge canvas advertisement for an energy drink featuring the visages of several notable players from Manchester United. It's kind of astounding to think about. In an area with minimal access to running water or capable sewage, the faces of these athletes still meant something significant to the people here. Even watching from England or the United States, one gets a sense of the reach of world football. A number of teams present TV-visible ads not only in the languages of obviously major markets of Asia, like Chinese or Korean, but also in the more linguistically niche markets of Vietnamese, Thai, and -- get this -- even the looping curlicues of the Myanmar language. Seeing this banner, I asked my guide if he supported a particular football club."Oh, yes," he said. "Big fan of Man U."At length, we rolled up back to the ferry terminal. It was time for me to retire for the evening. It was also about time for me to take leave of Yangon. I had seen the cosmopolitan hub of the country, the colonial and cultural capital. I had loved it. Now it was time branch out. It was time to check out something new. My next step would be the sprawling, spiritual oasis of ancient temples, rivaling Cambodia's Angkor Wat in its grandeur, built between the 9th and 13th century: Bagan. And as it stood, the only thing between me and Bagan was a ride on the night bus.Epilogue.This is one of the things I love about the sport of soccer. World football is one of the few subjects you can bring up anywhere on earth and reliably elicit some sort of meaningful conversation. Either there will be a connection on a topic that is truly significant to the other person. Or there will be a story about how their father was a big fan, but they could never really seemed to get into it themselves. The discrepancy in privilege between me and my guide in Dala is about as big as it can get. The discrepancy between our love for the game is much smaller. Whether in a village in Myanmar, a brewery in Zimbabwe, an alleyway in St Petersburg, or a tram in Istanbul, there are few things in this world that are that big of a deal to that many people, independent of their background.Common ground is hard to come by nowadays. Wealth inequality is greater than ever. Political divisions prevent people from engaging in civil discourse. In this respect, travel is a way of countering this trend. To have been to a place is to be connected with it. The people are no longer abstract entities, only the digits of a figure. When hundreds of people died in Myanmar in the collapse of a jade mine, as they did several months after I visited, that meant something to me that it wouldn't have otherwise. The world would certainly be a better place if we could all get to that point of caring, of vested interest without having to forge that tangible connection. To just treat people as people, regardless of whether we feel personally connected to them. But that's not how it works. It's just not in our psychological makeup. "If I'm an advocate for anything," wrote Anthony Bourdain, "it's to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else's shoes or at least eat their food, it's a plus for everybody."Over the next couple weeks I would move across the country of Myanmar. Christmas eve in Bagan. The strange and exotic world of Myanmar's night buses. A hike from Kalaw to Inle Lake. How I lost a shoe on New Year's Eve. The suboptimal and unappealing cityscape of Mandalay. But I won't get into those stories here. Maybe they'll come up another time. That's the thing about travel. There's always more to do. There's always more to see. And it's hard to communicate what's been done and what's been seen to those who were not there when it happened. It's just about impossible to not be underwhelmed by the stories you friends bring back after having been on holiday. Having to sit through those kind of stories is sincerely excruciating. Yet there is some magic to communicate there. They felt it at the time. You've felt it before in your own travels. I'm not sure I got it right here. But I'd like to think I will someday.After Myanmar, I'd meet back up with Haily in Vietnam. Soon after that, we were hoping to get what had been our chaotic and discordant lives back on track in England. Then the virus hit. Nothing was on track. By the time you're reading this, I hope that will have changed. I hope we're back together. I hope we're able to get back out into the world.Thanks for checking out Season 1 of Notes from the Field. If you enjoyed it, please consider becoming a premium subscriber. I’m trying to do more of this kind of travel writing in the future. But as you can imagine, it’s hard to have these kinds of experiences while also holding down a job. Your subscription goes a long way toward helping me to do that. Use the link below, and you’ll get 50% off an annual subscription. Thanks! This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit codykommers.substack.com/subscribe

On Biden's apparent election victory, November 2020.

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04 19 2020 - Bidden Or Unbidden by Snowmass Chapel

If you like what you hear, don't forget to Like, Share, and Subscribe, click the bell, and visit the links below! Contact TheeSherm/Site-42 at SCPSite42@Gmail.com Follow on Twitter:https://twitter.com/TheeSherm Support the show, become a Patron!https://www.patreon.com/site42 Support the show, but more casually on Ko-Fi or Streamelements!https://www.ko-fi.com/theesherm https://streamelements.com/theesherm42/tip Want some Site-42 swag? Check out the store here!https://teespring.com/stores/site-42 Join the Site-42 Discord Server here:https://discord.gg/9njUzar Check out TheeSherm's Author Page & Site-42 Hub on the wiki!http://www.scp-wiki.net/theesherm-site-42 SCP Tale: Unbidden Written by user Yossipossi, original text can be found here:http://www.scp-wiki.net/unbidden Check out Yossipossi's Author Page here!http://www.scp-wiki.net/yossipossi-authorphage Content relating to the SCP Foundation, including the SCP Foundation logo, is licensed under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0 and all concepts originate from http://www.scp-wiki.net. This page's art and graphic design is the work of John Maddocks, and is released under the same license. Sound Effects Attributions Author: Kevin MacLeodWebsite - http://incompetech.com/

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Graveyard Girls on Paper Phoenix Wings  by Andrea Tang     The flyboy crash-landed into Magdalisa’s life on a Wednesday, just before mid-afternoon prayers. More specifically, he crash-landed into the spindly stone watchtower over Dalaga Cemetery, and really, that amounted to the same thing. Magdalisa, for her part, probably wouldn’t have noticed if the flyboy’s spectacular nose-dive hadn’t so thoroughly disturbed the ghosts.     Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip Episode 51 for March 3, 2018. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story today is "Graveyard Girls on Paper Phoenix Wings" by Andrea Tang. Andrea Tang is a DC-based speculative fiction writer and international affairs wonk who earns her keep scribbling stuff about power politicking that slides on a scale from very real to very fictional, depending on who's asking. When not hunched over a notebook misusing her imagination, she's known to enjoy theater, music, and martial arts. Catch her on Twitter @atangwrites, or drop by for a hello and a virtual cup of tea at http://andreatangwrites.com.   Graveyard Girls on Paper Phoenix Wings  by Andrea Tang       The flyboy crash-landed into Magdalisa’s life on a Wednesday, just before mid-afternoon prayers. More specifically, he crash-landed into the spindly stone watchtower over Dalaga Cemetery, and really, that amounted to the same thing. Magdalisa, for her part, probably wouldn’t have noticed if the flyboy’s spectacular nose-dive hadn’t so thoroughly disturbed the ghosts. Tita Shulin, naturally, was the ghost tasked with telling Magdalisa, who’d been dozing off over a half-swept catacomb beneath the graveyard proper. The blast of icy air across Magdalisa’s ears put an abrupt end to the nap. Yelping, the girl scrambled awake. “Tita Shulin! I’m sorry, I’m on my way to prayers, I promise—” “Sod the prayers,” said Magdalisa’s tita. Those three words, more than anything, alerted Magdalisa to the fact that something serious indeed had happened. Sleep-fog fled her mind. Twisting her hands together, Magdalisa leaned forward, until she was practically nose-to-nose with Tita Shulin. “Tita,” said Magdalisa, more quietly now, but a good deal more urgently. Her words bounced off the catacomb walls. Tita, tita, tita. “What’s the matter?” Tita Shulin’s mouth pursed. Ghosts were funny creatures. Tita Shulin didn’t glow, or go dramatically translucent, or otherwise give much indication that she was dead. She looked nearly the same as she had in life: square-shouldered and square-jawed, with golden-brown skin, her hair—dyed stubbornly black well into her seventies—close-cropped in a fashion that had supposedly scandalized the family when Tita Shulin was still a young woman, and not yet a tita at all. Tita Shulin, as a ghost, turned the air around her cold, and when particularly exasperated with Magdalisa, sometimes floated a few inches off the ground and telekinetically bandied objects about. Still, given that Tita Shulin, when living, had been a veteran of the Corrazon Witches’ Corps, death had done little to change her. Now, invisible forces tugged Magdalisa upright from the catacomb surface, and smoothed down her collar with perfunctory sensibility. “A sky-sailor has crashed his paper phoenix into the tower.” “What?” shrieked Magdalisa, scurrying after Tita Shulin. The ghost floated up the grimy stone stairway with alarming speed. “Is he all right?” “No. Come on, kid, pick up those human legs of yours. You may live with ghosts, but that doesn’t mean you have to move like the dead.” Magdalisa, legs burning protest by the time she panted her way to the top of Dalaga’s watchtower, caught sight of the wings before anything else. Painted sleekly red and black, even their collapsed length spanned the tower’s highest turret, brightly-colored paper still fluttering weakly against the wind. Fierce, hand-painted phoenix eyes stared blankly at Magdalisa from the smoking wreckage, devoid of life. Magdalisa swallowed an odd lump at the sight. Then she heard the faint, low-pitched keening beneath. Magdalisa hurried forward and crouched low. Grimacing as her knees hit a sticky little puddle of blood, she pried up one of the singed, broken wings. When Magdalisa caught sight of the sky-sailor—or what remained of him—her entire body flinched. “He’s dead.” Murmurs of dismay greeted this answer. When Magdalisa turned, she found herself facing the entire lineup of Dalaga ghosts, their faces wide-eyed and curious. Tita Shulin, standing at the front like the self-proclaimed matriarch she was, snorted at Magdalisa’s proclamation. “Please. We’re dead, kid. Flyboy’s just on the brink of it, that’s all. You of all people should know the difference, hmm? He’s probably a goner, either way.” One inky, ghostly eyebrow lifted. “Unless, of course...” Magdalisa recoiled without quite meaning to. “I can’t. High Priest Stefan won’t like it.” One of the other ghosts, a stout scowling woman called Nia, clicked her tongue irritably at the High Priest’s name. “Sod old Stefan. Petty little man.” Her sister, Luchia, gasped and shoved at Nia. “Quiet, foolish girl! He’s the High Priest!” Nia’s mouth set mulishly. “High Priest or not, I don’t see him around right now, do you?” “Ah,” said Tita Shulin, tapping her chin. “What an interesting point Nia’s raised.” “I could get in trouble,” said Magdalisa, but staring at the broken red wings, and listening to their sky-sailor’s terrible, broken animal sounds beneath, she could already feel the magic bubbling mutinously in her veins. Tita Shulin shrugged. “No one here’s gonna tell. Right, girls?” Fervent, nervous agreement chorused between the other ghosts. Magdalisa swallowed, and turned back to the phoenix’s smoking wreckage. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she was apologizing to herself, or the three-quarters-dead flyboy, or the sun god Dal above, whose High Priest’s commandments she was almost certainly violating with the spark of unnatural, death-kissed power between her hands. Now, kneeling in the drying puddle of the flyboy’s blood, she lay her hands against his limp, broken-angled body. The flyboy had stopped keening, and lay unresponsive, his light brown skin now waxy and grey-tinged. His flank, terribly cold, barely rose and fell under her touch, but what little air he had left was enough. Magdalisa had more to give. A sigh shuddered through her. She let the power go. At first, nothing happened. Then a second sigh tore through the body beneath hers, violent in its exhalation. The flyboy bucked against her palms, muscles tightening under his skin. His eyes, flying open, rolled back in his skull, as his mouth widened in a soundless cry. Bones snapped back into place. New blood rushed to his previously pallid cheeks. Shudders wracked him over and over, as his body knit itself arduously back together. Still, Magdalisa’s hands held steady, her fingers twining through the fleeting threads of the flyboy’s soul, feeding its life back into his convulsing body. A final bone snapped into place. He whimpered once, then went slack in Magdalisa’s arms. She pressed her ear to his chest, and blew out a sigh of satisfaction at the drumming heart inside. When she leaned back on to her heels, the flyboy was blinking dark, slightly unfocused eyes at her. “I’m alive,” he croaked. “Yes,” agreed Magdalisa, a bit crossly, “no thanks to your sky-sailing skills. Welcome to Dalaga.” His smile at the name ‘Dalaga’ was weak, but strangely giddy. “Sanctuary,” he rasped. “What?” “Sanctuary,” he repeated, more sluggishly now. “Dalaga. I claim...” He trailed off, eyes drifting shut. Nia patted Magdalisa fondly on the shoulder. “Let him rest. Dying and coming back in the same day is hard work. You know how it is.” “I do,” said Magdalisa, frowning as she tried to arrange the flyboy’s arms more comfortably, “but I—” She hissed, as her fingers brushed cold metal at his fingers. “What?” Luchia asked, anxiously poking her head over her sister’s. “What’s the matter?” Arranged across the flyboy’s fingers were a series of gold and silver rings carved with interlocked triangles. That meant one thing. Magdalisa’s heart thudded with alarm inside her chest. “He’s a Wanderer.” “Lots of sky-sailors are,” said Tita Shulin, taking a seat beside Magdalisa. The blood-stained ground seemed to bother ghosts a good deal less than living humans. “I expect they have more need of paper phoenixes than most.” Her eyes fixed on Magdalisa’s. “Are you really going to judge him for it?” Magdalisa had the good grace to feel a stab of guilt. “They’re heretics,” she said defensively. “Ah,” said her tita, “and so are all residents of Dalaga, technically speaking. Even if he’s not a woman, a Wanderer flyboy ought to fit in just fine.”   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” Every so often, between chores, Magdalisa considers the epithet carved across the entrance to the cemetery. Dalaga’s name in full is Dalaga Cemetery for Misguided Ladies, the sun god Dal’s final refuge for women who strayed from the holy path of righteousness in life. The ghosts of Dalaga have been prostitutes and adulterers, god-deniers and conspirators, each new addition finding more creatively myriad ways to spend lives of merrymaking sin, before succumbing to death. The High Priest declares that the beautiful towers and ancient catacombs of Dalaga Cemetery are a tribute to Dal’s grace, a refuge for sinful females to repent in their afterlife and bask in the god’s glorious forgiveness for all eternity. Magdalisa’s not sure the High Priest has this bit quite right—in her experience, Dalaga’s ghosts aren’t especially interested in penance or forgiveness. Mostly, they seem interested in bad jokes, the latest Witches’ Corps gossip, complaining about the dust on their graves, and generally busybodying their way through Magdalisa’s life. But then, Magdalisa’s just a graveyard keeper, who earns her living cleaning the catacombs and weeding the gardens. What does she know, anyway? “I know what brought me to Dalaga. A job, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”   Magdalisa had been tending the latest, strangest newcomer to Dalaga, when a blast of winter-worthy cold announced the ghosts’ presence in the tower’s spare room. “You have a visitor,” announced Tita Shulin. “It’s the High Priest,” blurted out Luchia, bobbing over the elder ghost’s shoulder, eyes very wide, as she wrung her hands. “He’s here for one of his dratted surprise inspections. Oh, Magdalisa, Magdalisa, what shall we do?” “Quiet, girl,” snapped Tita Shulin. “You’re not helping.” “What a curse it is to be a woman,” moaned Luchia, ignoring her. “What a curse, to spend a woman’s life at the whims of men, only to spend death at Dalaga and discover yourself at the whims of the High Priest, of all possible men. The High Priest!” Magdalisa sighed. Sometimes, there really was no help for Luchia. In life, she’d been a minor priestess of Dal, the third daughter of an impoverished man using his offspring to vie for respectability, which Luchia had promptly dashed when she’d run off with a young man from one of Corrazon’s neighboring cities. The rebellious lovers had lived a happy enough life together, before illness took Luchia, and sent her home to be buried at Dalaga Cemetery for Misguided Ladies. Now, Luchia began to wail. “A curse to be a woman, and no respite from it, even here! I don’t know why you would ever choose such a life, Magdalisa!” “I didn’t,” said Magdalisa, a little dryly. “I’m afraid it rather chose me.” “Magdalisa,” said Tita Shulin. Her voice was a knife, cleaving straight through Luchia’s histrionics. “How’s the flyboy?” Magdalisa glanced down at the guest bed’s occupant. For the past several days, the young Wanderer had lain unconscious more often than not, and when he woke, he barely kept his eyes open long enough to string two words together. She didn’t even know his name. Still, his color improved daily, he swallowed the congee she spooned into his mouth, and his once-thready pulse seemed to grow stronger each time Magdalisa checked it. “Alive,” said Magdalisa. Often, the barest truth was also best. Tita Shulin clicked her tongue. “It shall have to do.” “He’s coming!” hissed Nia from around the corner. “Magdalisa, you’d best have a story ready!” Helplessly, Magdalisa looked to her tita, who looked back with the same, unperturbed calm she’d carried everywhere in life. “Eh,” said Tita Shulin. “Let him come. This is Dalaga Cemetery, and you are still its keeper, for the moment. That position leaves you some sway over the goings-on of this refuge, and don’t you let old Stefan tell you otherwise.” It was good advice to go out on. The High Priest of Corrazon burst into the spare room in the same instant the ghosts vanished. “Graveyard keeper,” he barked. His beady blue eyes swept toward the bed where the flyboy slept. “Explain yourself.” Magdalisa folded her hands primly over her apron, and bowed her head to the High Priest. “I have been performing my holy duties as the keeper of Dalaga Cemetery, Your Grace.” “Holy duties!” “Indeed, Your Grace.” “Do you know what the city watch told me this afternoon?” asked the High Priest, in the low, dangerous voice of someone who does not actually expect you to answer the question. “One of those wretched sky-sailors on their ridiculous paper birds was shot down by a sentry on suspicion of espionage. But when runners were sent to find the body, none was recovered. Instead, we hear word of a paper wreckage on the very watchtower of Dalaga Cemetery, and...” He trailed off meaningfully. Magdalisa, even with her head bent, could practically feel those beady eyes boring into her skull. “You, sheltering an unexpected guest.” “Yes, Your Grace.” Magdalisa kept her voice even. “It’s as I said. Being a cemetery, Dalaga is a sacred space, holy to our sun god Dal. You have reminded me yourself, Your Grace, on many occasions.” “I don’t see why—” “As Dalaga’s graveyard keeper, is it not then my holy duty to take in the wounded who arrive seeking care and refuge?” “Yes, yes,” snapped the High Priest, flapping an irritable hand, “but if you are harboring a spy, an enemy to the city and the god himself—” “I’m not a spy,” said a new voice. Magdalisa’s head jerked up, deference forgotten, as she and the High Priest rounded as one on the bed in the corner. The flyboy was awake, and sitting upright, black curls mussed, thick-lashed eyes narrowed at the High Priest. He looked a little wan, beneath the usual dusky complexion common to the Wandering folk, but the expression behind those pitch-dark eyes gave every impression of alertness. And anger. “I’m not a spy,” he repeated. “I was delivering routine messages to the sky-sailors’ charities within the city.” “Then why, pray tell, did the sentry shoot you down?” demanded the High Priest. The sky-sailor’s lip curled. “Corrazon’s city sentries have never been overly fond of sky-sailors.” The High Priest’s face grew mottled. “Keep in mind, boy, your position.” Mouth pursed, his gaze raked the young man up and down. “The sentries are protectors and servants of Dal. And no one believes the words of Wanderers. Be careful where you choose to fling your accusations.” “I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” said the sky-sailor in even tones. He smiled unpleasantly. “I’m sure it was a mistake.” “Then you will not mind being tried for espionage at the city courts.” “On what grounds?” “You are a Wanderer,” began the High Priest, eyeing the rings at the flyboy’s fingers with a grimace, “and a sky-sailor, besides. It is well within the authority of the High Priest of Corrazon to detain individuals of suspicious background—” “Not in a sanctuary,” interrupted Magdalisa. A memory clicked into place at the back of her mind. Both men’s gazes whipped toward her, one cold, one bemused. “What are you talking about?” demanded the High Priest. “Sanctuary,” repeated Magdalisa. “Cemeteries are sacred to our sun god. In a refuge holy to Dal, no blood can be spilt, and no hands lain on another against their will. As such, so long as we stand on Dalaga’s grounds, Your Grace, I’m afraid you’ll be quite unable to detain...” “Rigo,” the flyboy supplied, looking rather amused now. “I’m called Rigo.” “Rigo,” agreed Magdalisa, head bowed to the now crimson-faced High Priest. “There you have it. I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace. I’m but a humble graveyard keeper, who answers only to Dal’s will, which commands us all.” At the invocation of the sun god’s name, the expression on High Priest Stefan’s face shifted just a little, as he glanced skyward, toward Dal’s domain. But it was enough. His mouth worked. “Stay here then, heretic,” he snarled at last. “And may you rot within these walls, by the eternal mercy of the god whose name you disgrace.” With that particularly dramatic proclamation, the High Priest slammed out of the room. Slowly, Magdalisa lifted her eyes to Rigo, the flyboy. “Well,” she said awkwardly. “It seems you may have returned to the land of the living just in time for me to trap you in a cemetery for eternity. I’m dreadfully sorry.” Rigo blinked at her. “You just saved me.” “I don’t know about that,” said Magdalisa. “When you first smashed yourself to bits against the watchtower turret, certainly, I’ll take credit for that save. I’m not sure this one counts, though. Caging you in a graveyard might not be much better than letting you stand city trial.” “Anything is better than standing city trial for a Wanderer,” said Rigo, very wryly. He blinked slowly and shook his head, his grin full of uncertain wonder. “You don’t even know me. Why help me?” “Ah, well.” Magdalisa rolled her shoulders. “You can blame my tita for that one.”   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” Tita Shulin—in her life before Dalaga—proudly serves the city government as a member of the Corrazon Witches’ Corps. She’s Magdalisa’s very favorite tita. Magdalisa, at this point, isn’t yet called Magdalisa; that part won’t happen until later, but the name she bears right now isn’t important. The child who will one day become Magdalisa laughs when Tita Shulin makes Mama’s cookware dance around the family kitchen, and exclaims over the silky uniform pinafore that Tita Shulin carefully airs out on the balcony every Sunday. “Hey, tita!” Magdalisa calls, dangling heels thumping together between the balcony bars. “Tita, when I’m big, I’m going to join the Witches’ Corps too, and wear pinafores just like yours!” Tita Shulin laughs, and nudges her sister, Magdalisa’s mama, crowing, “This kid’s going to be a handful.” “I know what brought me to Dalaga. My tita’s pinafore, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”   “Wanderers aren’t technically heretics.” Magdalisa squinted up at the figure silhouetted against the afternoon sun. “Excuse me?” Rigo, the flyboy, dimpled down at her. He still walked gingerly, and bore a particular pallor that suggested his body hadn’t quite caught up with Magdalisa’s magic, but he left the guest bed from time to time to wander the cemetery grounds, picking up books from the tower library and offering Magdalisa assistance with minor chores around Dalaga. Now, he’d caught her in the garden, tending one of the jade plants. Apparently, he was in a mood to debate theology. Magdalisa patted at the dirt. “Anyone who refuses to recognize Dal the sun god is a heretic by definition.” “But there’s the thing,” mused Rigo in that habitually cheery, soft-spoken tone of his. “We do recognize Dal. We think he’s a rather fine fellow, in fact. Who wouldn’t?” Squatting beside Magdalisa, he caressed the little jade plant’s leaves, brow furrowed in thought. “The sun brings us all life. Where your High Priest and his ilk seem to take exception is that we also recognize Meera the earth mother, and Hiseo the god of sea and stars, and Shara the holy queen of the eastern skies.” Magdalisa said, carefully, “The traditional scriptures of Dal do not recognize other gods.” “True,” granted Rigo, dimples still out in full force. “Still, the sun god doesn’t strike me as a petty deity. I can’t imagine he begrudges those less fortunate, homeless gods a place in somebody else’s pantheon. We Wanderers can’t help but feel for the poor aimless creatures.” The corners of Magdalisa’s mouth, traitorous, twitched upward. “The High Priest and his followers would have you burned in the city square for speaking of Dal in such friendly terms.” “But does Dal not proclaim for the virtues of companionship and charity? He must feel for his fellow deities. Why, consider Shu of the western wind, for instance—such a blustery fellow, blowing this way and that, uncertain of his welcome anywhere. We cannot all be so graciously secure in our spot in the sky as the sun god.” Magdalisa glanced sidelong and the sky-sailor. “I’m not at all sure we’re still speaking of Dal.” Curiosity warred with polite wariness, and won. “How does a Wanderer come to fly paper phoenixes for the sky-sailors’ brigade, anyhow?” Rigo winked. “Well, to start, I’m quite good at flying.” “I wouldn’t have guessed, from the great bloody mess you left on the watchtower turret,” said Magdalisa dryly. “An injustice!” Rigo pulled a face at her. “It was hardly my fault the city sentries decided to have a go at me!” “They did think you were a spy.” Rigo sighed, still grinning, but his dark gaze went oddly somber. “All sky-sailors are spies in the eyes of the sentries. The city government—the sentries, the Witches’ Corps, even the High Priest, bless his soul—they all wish to protect the people of Corrazon. It’s a noble task, but one where they do not always succeed. Precious little protection exists for the poor, or for so-called misguided women”—here, he winked again at Magdalisa—“or indeed, for Wandering folk. We of the sky-sailors’ brigade merely wish to assist by filling the neglected gap. The sentries seem to find this an unwelcome interference. Can’t think why.” Magdalisa’s brow furrowed. “You think the city government dislikes the sky-sailors because they defend Corrazon’s outcasts?” “I didn’t say that at all!” cried Rigo, injured. “Perhaps the good servants of the government are merely jealous that we remember what they’ve forgotten. How frightfully embarrassing for them, poor fellows.” Helpless, startled laughter bubbled out of Magdalisa. “You know,” she admitted, “I wanted more than anything to join the Corrazon Witches’ Corps once. I thought I’d help the government protect people too, just like my tita.” Rigo’s smile was slow, genuine, and sun-bright. “You would have made an excellent addition, if my still-beating heart is any indication,” he pointed out. “Why didn’t you?” Magdalisa shrugged, eyes averted. “I grew up, and discovered that being magical is rather more trouble than it’s worth.” She touched the jade plant’s leaves. “Besides, the graveyard needed a new keeper.”   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” Magdalisa’s mama spends most of Magdalisa’s childhood hoping Magdalisa will grow out of Witches’ Corps ambitions. When Magdalisa doesn’t, Mama blames Tita Shulin. “This is all your influence!” An angry voice floats up from the balcony late one night, when Magdalisa is supposed to be in bed. “How am I supposed to raise a child properly by myself, when you cavort about, telling lewd stories about women you’ve bedded in the Corps and teaching witchcraft behind my back?” “You don’t have to like it,” chides Tita Shulin, sounding tired. “But your kid has a real gift for magic—” “Gift!” “The Witches’ Corps should be so lucky to recruit such a talented magic-worker into Corrazon’s service. Be proud, sister.” “I would,” says Mama, in a low, tight voice. “I know how much the child wants to be a witch. But it’s not what boys are supposed to want.” Mama’s words thud inside Magdalisa’s chest like a misplaced heartbeat. The next morning, after prayers, Magdalisa finds Tita Shulin. “Tita,” she asks, “must I be a boy?” Tita Shulin sighs. “Your Mama, and most of the family, seem to think so.” A pause. “That does not mean you are a boy, or under any particular obligation to pretend you are.” She smiles. “Eh. Boy, girl, both, neither. You’re young. You don’t have to know everything about yourself right now, hmm?” “Did you always know you were a girl?” “Sure,” says Tita Shulin. “But I didn’t know I was the sort of girl who fancies other girls until I was past twenty, and in my second year with the Witches’ Corps.” She shrugs. “Your grandpapa—my papa, and your mama’s—didn’t like that so much either.” Tita Shulin offers a wink. “But that did not stop it from being true.” “I know what brought me to Dalaga. The truth, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”   “That sky-sailor’s sweet on you,” said Nia, without so much as a word of preamble, or a blast of cold to announce her presence. Magdalisa shrieked into the nightgown she’d half-pulled over her head. “Dal’s sun! Don’t you ghosts understand a human need for privacy? I was indecent!” Nia rolled her luminous eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Little one, all women who reside at Dalaga, living or dead, have been indecent at some point. We’ve practically made indecency an art form.” “Still!” “Nia has a point,” added Luchia, following her sister. “Granted, she didn’t have one true love, as I did, but rather, a great collection of them—” “Luchia!” “– but the two of us do share an understanding when it comes to men who fancy women,” continued Luchia. “And the flyboy fancies you.” “Codswallop,” said Magdalisa, fire-cheeked. “You’ve all been dead too long to know the first thing about fancying anybody.” Luchia’s eyes narrowed. “Why, it’s true. You do like him back!” “Told you,” crowed Nia. “You owe me the next three rice wine offerings on your grave.” “You said two!” “I said three, little sister.” Magdalisa stomped out of her bedroom. Living with ghosts was all very well, but a human girl could only stomach so much gossip and bickering at her expense. Struck by a chord of determination, she went to find Rigo. The source of all ghostly speculation himself was propped up in the guest bed, reading an old volume of Corrazon history. Upon seeing Magdalisa, he smiled. “You’re still awake! I was the only night owl in my family. It’s nice to know someone else who doesn’t drop like a snoring rock as soon as Dal’s sun sets.” “Do you fancy me?” demanded Magdalisa. Rigo blinked over the book cover. “I’m feeling rather attacked by this line of questioning.” “It’s all right if you don’t,” Magdalisa added quickly. “I don’t expect—” “Yes.” “– any obligations from you. What?” “Yes,” Rigo repeated. He marked his place in the book, set it aside, and said, “I fancy you.” “Is it because I stuck the life back in your body after you essentially died?” demanded Magdalisa, whose heart had begun to rattle unpleasantly beneath her bones. Rigo’s mouth twitched. “That was a very nice point in your favor, but not the only reason.” Eyes averted, she flopped down on the foot of the guest bed. “Is it because I’m the only living woman at Dalaga?” “Shara of the Sky bear me witness, I’d like to think I have higher standards for women than a mere beating heart!” Rigo raked a hand through his curls, looking genuinely nervous for the first time since she’d brought him back from the dead. Then he took a deep breath, and said softly, “I like debating theology with you. I like how clever and funny you are. I like that you treat the graveyard plants so tenderly. I like how your hair curls at the ends when it rains, and how your skin goes dark with Dal’s summer sun. I like—” Magdalisa leaned over and kissed him.   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” Magdalisa’s sixteen. She’s been going with Tomo, the butcher’s boy, for all of three months, when they get into a tremendous row right after Wednesday’s midday prayer service. “My papa says the magic inside you is a Wanderers’ curse against Dal,” claims Tomo, who at seventeen, at least has the self-awareness to look shame-faced. Magdalisa, though, is having none of it. “What complete codswallop,” she snaps, hands on her hips. Embarrassed indignation burns like a furnace inside her belly, heating her cheeks. “I have never spoken to a Wanderer in my entire life!” Tomo shakes his head, clearly miserable. “I know, but it won’t make a difference to Papa. He says I’m not to see you anymore, and that I’m to find a proper, beautiful woman who will give him proper grandchildren.” The furnace inside Magdalisa might as well be a full-fledged bonfire. “Well!” she exclaims. “My mama says your papa is a miserable pig, and going with you is beneath our family’s dignity, anyhow. You’re just jealous that I have sufficient magical talent to sit the Witches’ Corps exams, while you must spend all your days in your miserable papa’s butcher shop. I’m well rid of you, Tomo!” She starts to stalk off, but can’t quite resist shouting over her shoulder, “And another thing! I am a beautiful woman, so good luck finding another foolish enough to have you!” Magdalisa waits until she’s safely home, ensconced on Tita Shulin’s balcony, before she finally allows the tears to flow, ugly and unchecked. A few minutes later, Tita Shulin herself stomps out to scold Magdalisa for skipping the post-prayer luncheon, but stops short at the blotchy, sorry sight of Magdalisa’s face. “Dal’s sun above, kid. What on earth is the matter?” Magdalisa opens her mouth to say, “Nothing.” Instead, the whole mortifying story blubbers out: about how much she liked Tomo, who liked her back, but not enough, in the end. How Tomo’s papa wanted Tomo to marry a normal, pretty girl who could produce normal, pretty children, instead of some shrewish witch-girl who’d spent practically her entire childhood being mistaken for a boy. “Ah, kid,” says Tita Shulin, very quietly, when Magdalisa’s done. “That’s a rough break.” Magdalisa hiccups. “Are you mad at me?” “Nah.” The old witch’s arm slings rough and tight around the young witch’s shoulders, as Magdalisa’s tears silently soak Tita Shulin’s pinafore collar. “Everyone misses a prayer luncheon or two. You got nothing to be ashamed of, you hear? Nothing at all.” “I know what brought me to Dalaga. My own silly, broken heart, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”   Rigo’s mouth, soft and full-lipped, tasted like fruit from the garden. His hands, rings cool on her skin, cradled the back of her skull like it was something precious, thumbs rubbing gentle circles just under her jawline. Magdalisa broke the kiss with some reluctance, her own fingers still curled in his hair, memories a lump in her throat. She didn’t owe the flyboy anything, not truly, but the lump needed to be spoken, for her own sake. She groaned, forehead thudding against his chest. “Rigo, listen, before we go any further. You might not—I have too much magic in me. People expected me to...” Rigo’s heart thrummed patiently against Magdalisa’s forehead. She didn’t dare look up, unable to stomach the thought of those expectant, liquid dark eyes. How to pull this off gracefully? Magdalisa leaned back, gaze fixed on the ceiling, and blurted out, “I think you’re assuming that I have all the particular physical bits people usually expect of women, and that I was born into this world knowing I was a woman, but I don’t, and I wasn’t, all right?” Oh no, she thought, mortified, that wasn’t graceful at all. Rigo blinked a few times, pupils still blown, inky brows furrowing. Almost absently, he traced a thumb over her cheekbone. “All right.” “All right?” she echoed, a little incredulous. He shrugged, looking amused. “If I had anything against unusually magical women, I probably shouldn’t have confessed my affection after your magic literally knit my soul back to my body.” “And the rest?” “Magdalisa,” said Rigo, “we’re currently necking in a cemetery dedicated to women who broke with Corrazon expectations. Your particular womanhood, however you came to it, clearly follows in the footsteps of a rich tradition.” “Oh,” said Magdalisa, flooded by a curious, insistent warmth, and reached for him. “Well,” she managed, as his mouth found her ear, “I suppose we’d best get back to that then.” No further interruptions occurred.   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” When the Witches’ Corps send Magdalisa a politely-worded rejection letter—she still wants them, but they don’t want her—Magdalisa’s not the one who breaks. It’s Mama. “I knew it,” Mama moans, over and over again, “I knew this encouragement of your magic would come to no good end. The Witches’ Corps was the only hope for a child like you, and now the Witches’ Corps have turned their backs on us too. What place is left for you now, hmm? What are we to do with you?” Magdalisa watches this all in silence, knowing better than to voice the words resting sharp on her tongue’s edge: The Witches’ Corps turned their backs on me, not you. Stop twisting my pain into your own, Mama. “We’ll fix this,” Mama decides at last. Her wet eyes are hard and narrow. “I know a man who can help. He’ll sort this all out, and our lives will be our own again.” Magdalisa, staring at the floor, wonders what Tita Shulin would say to Mama. The thought is a foolish indulgence. A bad heart killed Magdalisa’s tita more than a year ago. What worth can be found in a dead woman’s imaginary words? “I know what brought me to Dalaga. One unfortunate letter, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.   The Festival of Dal’s Sunrise would fall on a Friday. It was, Magdalisa realized, with an odd twist of her gut, the perfect day to plan an escape for Rigo. The High Priest and his most trusted men would be occupied all day at the city square with holy festivities. No one would bother to monitor arrivals and departures from Dalaga. “I agree,” said Tita Shulin, when Magdalisa told her this, one hot day in the graveyard gardens, “but I don’t see why you can’t go with him.” “Who, Rigo?” Magdalisa turned her face toward the garden wall. “Don’t be ridiculous, tita, I’m the graveyard keeper.” “Yes, and so you’ve been for years now. You’re too young to be stuck in a cemetery forever. You wanted to protect Corrazon’s living people, once. That young flyboy of yours, he shares the same dream. Why not make something of it together?” “In the sky-sailors’ brigade?” Magdalisa asked, incredulous. “What place could they have for a graveyard keeper, a forgotten little witch-girl that no one—” “Stop that this instant,” said Tita Shulin, suddenly ironlike. “I didn’t indulge that kind of talk from you when you were sixteen, and I certainly won’t indulge it now that you’re grown. You live with the dead, but you are not one of us. You were always going to have to move on, one day.” “We can argue about my career choices later,” snapped Magdalisa, stomping from the garden. “Right now, I’m going to find Rigo, and share my plan.” “He’s in love, you know.” Magdalisa blinked rapidly. “I know, tita. So am I. That’s why I have to set him free.” She found Rigo in the library, and stared at the ceiling the whole time she recited her plan. She’d considered everything: the little-known catacomb tunnels beneath the cemetery proper, the map to point the way, the back-door entrance hatch just outside the city gate. “Will the other sky-sailors find you?” she asked urgently, when she finished. “They need to be able to find you.” “Yes,” said Rigo, “and I need to find them. I’d always planned to escape, eventually, but I thought...” In the corner of her eye, hurt skittered across his features for a moment, before smoothing into habitual cheer. “I thought perhaps you’d come too. That’s all.” Magdalisa closed her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m still the graveyard keeper. I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “Please don’t fight with me about this. I—it may be your only chance, you understand?” The silence between them felt longer and heavier than any Magdalisa had ever borne. “I do,” said Rigo at last, soft-voiced. “Thank you. For everything.” Magdalisa heard his footsteps depart the library, but didn’t turn to watch. She didn’t seek him out for a final goodbye, either, when the fateful night fell. To what end? She’d given him his map to freedom. It wouldn’t do, to make salvation harder on either of them than it had to be.   “Remember what brought you to Dalaga.” Mama’s cure-all man works off the books, but he guarantees he can wrest unwanted magic from any human vessel, for the right price. What happens to Magdalisa in his secret shop, in the back alley, isn’t worth remembering. There’s darkness, and pain, and at the end of it all, Magdalisa’s magic, sure enough, bleeding out on to the floor, along with the rest of her. Magic, after all, is tied to the soul. Mama weeps over her. “I’m sorry, girl. Mama’s so, so sorry.” Magdalisa’s final, furious thought is that being sorry never fixed anything. Then darkness eats her world. “I know what brought me to Dalaga, but you have no right to it. You have no right at all.”   Luchia was the one who brought word of the ambush. “It was a trap!” she cried. The ghost burst into Magdalisa’s bedroom in a flurry of cold that sank into Magdalisa’s very bones. “A few of the High Priest’s men, they thought Rigo would take advantage of the festival day to run, so they waited for him at the gate.” “They’re going to burn him in the city square.” Nia’s voice was quieter than her sister’s. “I’m so sorry, little one.” Magdalisa sat there in the winter-deep chill of her bedroom, absorbing the ghosts’ words. “Don’t be,” she said at last. Despite the chill, she felt hot beneath the skin. “Magdalisa!” Tita Shulin appeared then, the only ghost whose face wasn’t a picture of distress. Her fingers found Magdalisa’s, and squeezed tight, just once. Then the touch was gone. “Go on then, kid,” she said. “You know what to do. You’ve always known.” Magdalisa stood. Her nails bit into her palms, as her heart thrummed with some savage feeling she couldn’t name. It shoved her to her feet, carrying her out the bedroom and up the stairs, to the watchtower’s highest turret, where the remains of Rigo’s paper phoenix still lay spattered with his bloodstains. Standing before the phoenix’s blank-eyed stare, Magdalisa glared up at Dal’s setting red sun. “I am well and truly sick of my magic being a burden,” she declared. “Witness, for once in my life, my magic is going to work for me.” Power jumped inside Magdalisa’s veins. Beneath her hands, the paper phoenix rustled and groaned, unfurling its great red wings. Its painted eyes widened, then narrowed at Magdalisa, whose magic curled plumes around them both. With painstaking care, Magdalisa curved her body along the phoenix’s spine, burying her face in the paper feathers. “Help me,” she whispered, fists full of feathers and furious magic. “Help us both.” The phoenix emitted a great, shrieking war cry. Then, Magdalisa astride its back, launched into the sky. Clinging to the bird with her knees, Magdalisa scanned the ground until she smelled smoke. “There,” she whispered. She felt the paper phoenix hesitate beneath her. She stroked its bright-painted plumage, power sparking between them. “Don’t worry. You won’t burn. Not under my watch.” The phoenix dove. The pyre wasn’t lit yet, but the torches were ready. A crowd had gathered. And someone was tying a familiar, dark-headed figure to the center. Not under my watch, thought Magdalisa, and dove again. She barely had time to register the shock on Rigo’s bloodless face, before she’d kicked aside his guard, and pulled the sky-sailor astride his own phoenix. “Miss me?” she shouted, over the crowd’s roar of surprise. “You have no idea,” he shouted back, and then his arms were wrapped tight around her ribs, as the three of them—the flyboy, the graveyard girl, and the paper phoenix—hurtled away into the star-streaked sky. “Goodness,” he said, some time later. His arms were still a vise around her bones. It occurred to Magdalisa, as they zigzagged through the air, that his reasons were probably practical, as well as affectionate. “Perhaps you’d best let me steer.” “Just don’t crash us into the watchtower again. Trouble enough saving your life the first time around.” Rigo laughed, nose buried against her neck. “Don’t worry. I can land us there nice and easy, now that everyone below is too shocked to shoot in the dark.” “No,” said Magdalisa. “We’re not going back to Dalaga.” His hands, subtly reining the phoenix around by its feathers, went briefly still. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Magdalisa smiled against the wind, hot-eyed, but certain as the magic pulsing warm and alive beneath her bones. “I am.” “You’ll have to become a better sky-sailor. For all our sakes, really.” Without turning around, Magdalisa swatted at his thigh. “I think I’ll manage.” Rigo went quiet. When he spoke again, his tone was thoughtful. “You know, Wanderers never had permanent physical homes. I think that’s why we share a tradition of telling the stories of what brought us to the places we’ve lived. It’s a way to remember homes that mattered. Homes we carry in our hearts, even when we wander. Will you tell me what brought you to Dalaga?" Rigo’s arms around her were warm. Resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, Magdalisa told him.   After the end of everything, Magdalisa wakes up. At first, she’s certain she’s dead. For one thing, her entire body aches. For another, Tita Shulin, a year and a half past her funeral date, is staring down into Magdalisa’s eyes. Magdalisa’s lying in a bed she doesn’t recognize. Barren stone walls surround what look to be a modest, if tidy, room. “If this is the land of Dal’s glorious afterlife,” she croaks, “the High Priest is in for a surprise.” “I’m afraid not,” her tita says, sounding amused. “We’re merely at Dalaga Cemetery. I don’t blame you for not recognizing the place. The last time you came to the cemetery was for my funeral.” Magdalisa blinks, wiggling her toes. Something strange sparks between them. “My magic,” she murmurs, heart thudding. “It’s back.” “Of course it’s back,” says Tita Shulin, nonplussed. “You silly girl. Did you really think the ghosts of Dalaga Cemetery would restore your soul to your body, and neglect something so important?” Magdalisa glances up at her tita, alarmed. “Then I—” “You are very much alive, yes, I saw to that.” “Are you—” “Still dead, rather.” Tita Shulin shrugs, as if this matters very little. “Eh. It’s not so bad, really. Being a ghost quite suits me.” Unbidden, Magdalisa’s eyes fill. “I missed you. After you died, Mama was never the same.” “Ah, kid,” sighs Tita Shulin. An old sorrow colors her features. “Your grandpapa was a hard, small-minded man, and your mama always had more trouble ignoring his harshness than I did. She wanted so much to please him, but she should not have taken that out on you. You’re her child, magical or not.” “Magic’s what killed me in the first place!” “No, it is not,” says Tita Shulin. “What tried to kill you—and failed, I might add—is a world that didn’t know how to handle magic properly. The world is often foolish in that way, and cruel. But death isn’t ready for you, yet. Your magic still has work to do. I could tell, all the way here in Dalaga, as soon as I sensed my Magdalisa’s soul struggling to stay tethered to her body.” Tita Shulin taps her heart. “I’m a witch too, remember? Magic always knows. A tita’s heart always knows. So the ghosts of Dalaga did what had to be done.” Magdalisa swallows the lump in her throat. “But if I’m not dead, what happens now?” Her tita shrugs. “Eh. The cemetery’s been needing a new graveyard keeper for a while now. The poor gardens are terribly withered. You’ve always been quite good at restoring life, and protecting it. You take after me that way. Why not make some use of those talents, for the moment?” “All right,” says Magdalisa. “All right, I will. For the moment.” She takes her tita’s hand, and follows her to the gardens, where all the other misguided, defiant women of Corrazon wait, their souls eternal, the life growing green and bright around them beneath Dal’s sun. “I know what brought me to Dalaga. Somebody loved me. Nothing more, nothing less.”   END “Graveyard Girls on Paper Phoenix Wings" is copyright Andrea Tang 2018. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a selection of three short reprints.

Tune in for another special edition of That's Entertainment as I talk with actress Akemi Look. Akemi is best known in such movies as "Seppuku," "The Unbidden," "How To Make It In America," and "Manifest Mind." Now she can be seen in "The Man From Earth: Holocene," the sequel to The Man From Earth, which is currently in theaters. It also stars William Katt, Vanessa L. Williams and Sterling Knight. The Man From Earth has become a world-wide cult classic and has become a favorite film among fans of the genre. Akemi will also be starring in Disney's "A Wrinkle In Time," releasing in 2018, directed by Ava Duvernay and starring Oprah Winfrey, Chris Pine, and Reese Witherspoon. Join me on Wednesday, October 18th at 1pm ET/10am PT as I talk with actress Akemi Look on www.blogtalkradio.com/tammyjones-gibbs or call in at 347-637-2656 Akemi's website - AkemiLook.com Follow Akemi Look on Twitter - @AkemiLook and Instagram @akemilook    

Download: The Muse Unbidden The Muse Unbidden is an exciting one off drama from Roger Gregg, one of Ireland’s most influential radio dramatists. The play, a success on stage at the Collaborations festival in Smock Alley theatre in 2012, follows a group of would-be poets enrolled in a performance poetry workshop led by a charismatic … Continue reading The Muse Unbidden →

Listen to episode 125 of the Inspirational Living podcast: Overcoming Fear, Anxiety, and Worry. Adapted from the book Pushing to the Front by Orison Swett Marden. Motivational Podcast Excerpt: The monster of worry dogs us from the cradle to the grave. There is no occasion so sacred but it is there. Unbidden it comes to the wedding and the funeral alike. It is at every reception, every banquet; it occupies a seat at every table. No human mind can estimate the havoc and ruin wrought by worry. It has ever forced genius to do the work of mediocrity; it has caused more failures, more broken hearts, more blasted hopes, than any other one cause since the dawn of the world. Did you ever hear of any good coming to any human being from worry? Did it ever help anybody to better their condition? Does it not always--everywhere--do just the opposite by impairing the health, exhausting the vitality, lessening efficiency? Think of the homes which it has broken up; the ambitions it has ruined; the hopes and prospects it has blighted! If there is any devil in existence, is it not worry, with all its attendant progeny of evils? Yet, in spite of all the tragic evils that follow in its wake, a visitor from another world would get the impression that worry is one of our dearest, most helpful friends, so closely do we hug it to ourselves and so loath are we to part from it.

iTalk movies is a long-form interview series featuring leading members of the film community. In this episode, our host JB Zimmerman interviews Julia Nickson, Akemi Look, Hayden Szeto & Amy Hill in studio about The Unbidden on the Popcorn Talk Network. The Unbidden is a thriller about four women confronted by a mysterious young man who knows a dark secret from their past. @ThePopcornTalk --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A Feast for Crows, Brienne I and Jaime I. Spoilers, profanity, Jaime x Brienne. Roadtrip. Vigil. Unbidden. A Song of Ice and Fire. Close the Door and Come Here - Episode 21

Lines from a verse-letter by John Keats, set to music by Jeremy Thurlow. Performers: Gwylim Bowen (tenor), Misha Mulloy-Abbado (horn), Jeremy Thurlow (piano). The performance was part of the CRASSH conference, 'Pain in Performance and 'Moving Beauty'' (21-22 May, 2010).

The Chuck-Man Taketh! Mark and Vince welcome uber-freelancer Chuck Wendig back onto the show! We look at the Dropa Stones on the Secret Frequency, dive into the realms of madness with Malkavians and Malkovians for Vampire: the Masquerade and Vampire: the Requiem, and bring you a review of Night Horrors: the Unbidden for Mage: the Awakening. The show wraps with a cool Q&A session with Chuck himself! So download the show now at our homepage, stop by our forums and leave feedback or drop us an email at darkerdaysradio@gmail.com.