Podcasts about Witness protection

The end of the cruel Peace & the start of the desperate War.Based on ‘One In Ten' by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.A frightened Mother Mouse will devour her young; similarly, a frightened culture will devour its future.It wasn't like a magic force field bubble protected us until our 16th birthday. I couldn't recall all the times after I was 13 some woman asked me, or my Mother, when my 16th birthday would be. Back then, I didn't think much about it. In hindsight, those women were wondering when I would become legally sexually vulnerable. In way too many cases, women with access to teenage boys didn't wait.Even if they did,"It was my Aunt," Barabbas confessed. "She and her boss."You would think a sixteen, or seventeen, year old guy getting to sleep with a Milf would be a trip. It could be. For the boys with better developed empathy, you started to realize a woman you trusted was using your sexuality for their own advancement. Then you began feeling like a whore."She got me a job, but I quit after four months, you know,” he trailed off."Yeah," I sighed sympathetically."Yeah," Lowry snorted, "when the rest decided you should be putting out for free.""That was completely unnecessary," I glared at him."But true," he defied me."True," Barabbas agreed with a familiar degree of rejection."Mom flipped out when she figured out what Tamara; my sister; was doing," Pierre picked up his tale. "I was seventeen by that time. She helped pay for my college." We assumed the 'she' was his sister; the one who pimped him out."I hit one once," Lowry bragged. I found that somewhat difficult to believe."What happened?" Pierre asked."She kicked my ass," he chuckled. "Ex-military Reservist. Beat me like I had a cock." I read somewhere in the old days it was more common to say 'like a little bitch.' Now it was 'like I had a cock' because they didn't like teaching men to be 'too violent' aka how to defend ourselves.No one else felt like inquiring, so Barabbas did the deed."Go to the cops?""For what?" he shook his head. "I threw the first punch, and the second. Fucking Bitch. We both looked pretty rough, but I lost."Another pause."What was it like to hit one with your stick?" Lowry shot me a look."Good, damn good, and stupid. I mean, I could have ended up like you with a crowd of women on a subway kicking and stomping on me and I would have ended up in jail too," I related. "Still, it felt good, just to tell one to keep her hands to herself, ya know?" I got nods all around. We were all young, healthy and relatively handsome."Yeah, you could have gotten your ass kicked," Barabbas reminded me."In fact, one of the major reasons I didn't, gave me the pistol I'm carrying," I twitched it slightly. "The first time they came for me, I asked them ~ the Vanishers ~ to wait, and they did.""Why in the fuck would you do that?" Lowry blurted out, shocked and skeptical."At the time, I didn't trust them since I figured they were nothing more than another bunch of women telling me what to do. I wanted to use them to escape. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life serving them if it meant the same fucked-up existence I was currently living," I shared the enlightenment."What changed your mind?" Pierre's eyes lit up."I figured out their prime motivation, the nature of the conspiracy and that I had no rational chance to escape them," I answered. "Every angle I was figuring out, they had figured out years ago. On the plus side, their core philosophy requires them to engage men as equals for both biological and social reasons ~ which means they are the best game in town. In case you missed it, the Vanishers didn't 'vanish' me. I escaped on my own. They have agreed to join forces with my group; no lie.""Your group has a lot of girls," Lowry drolly noted."Lowry, exactly how was I going to recruit any male to my cause without dropping the entire Metropolitan G E D (Gender Enforcement Division) on me?""Flyers?" Barabbas joked softly."He's got a point," Pierre rallied to my cause. "As far as any of you have confessed, none of us had any guy, or girl, friends. It is why we were selected.""Okay, fine. Now what?" Lowry conceded to the consensus."We wake up tomorrow working toward equality," I huffed. "We are all going to have to learn to fight and shoot because the entire group is going to be in danger for some time to come. Society, as in Global Society, is going to come crashing down. And that means anarchy, lawlessness and barbarism before it violently spasms off into extinction.""We have lived our lives effectively as slaves, though no woman inside that house will admit it truly in their hearts. For the first time in our lives, we can change our futures. I'm sure if we surrender to whomever kills the others, they will enslave us once more and leave us with far fewer illusions about our status. Or, we can chose to fight and, if worst comes to worst, die free. I'm not going back to what I was. That means I will need to learn how to survive; and that means fighting. Not because I hate women, but because there are several I love and respect and I don't want to let them down ~ as their equal.""Tonight, think about what I've told you. Tomorrow morning, I hope you join up with us," I concluded my 'pep talk.'"And if we don't?" Lowry stared defiantly."That is something you are free to do too," I shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. Let's go back inside. It is late."We'd almost made it back when Lowry put a hand on my shoulder."Can I see the gun now?""This thing? Like this?" I half-turned, made eye contact then flick my eyes down to the pistol then back to him again."Yeah.""Have you ever handled a loaded firearm before?" I requested."Yeah, plenty of times, in my dreams," he mocked me."You are a moron," I felt my blood simmering. "This isn't a game, this (the pistol) isn't a toy, and you have not been paying attention." I put both hands on the pistol, removed the magazine then removed the chambered bullet. Lastly, ass-first, I handed him the empty pistol with my left hand while keeping the ammunition in my right."Moron, huh?" he chuckled. "Gonna give me the bullets?""No, no, I'm not going to give you the bullets because you don't know what you are doing. Unlike you, I actually have had a firearm lesson. More to the point, I won't give you a loaded firearm because I think I've stressed the lady, or ladies, watching over us right now enough for one night.""Huh?" Lowry and Barabbas echoed. Pierre looked around."Wes didn't keep us inside to play '20 Questions' for her own amusement. She kept us occupied so her other teammate, or teammates, could move to this side of the house, so they could watch over us while giving you three the delusion we were alone. They are professionals in camouflage gear with night-vision goggles, so unless they had to move rapidly through the underbrush, we weren't likely to detect them.""I played along because I felt it was necessary for you three to open up a little bit. Life is only going to get tougher over the next few months. None of us want to have a chat with heavily armed women staring over our shoulders, so I took us outside where it would appear we were alone," I explained."You lied to us," Lowry snipped."No. My words were true. What I did was allow you to deceive yourself as to our level of security and amount of company. I did what I did for the good of the group, regardless of gender, Gentlemen. It is how we all need to start thinking. Something else you might want to think about is: everyone I love is with me here today. A good number of people who decided getting in my way was a good thing aren't even alive anymore. I will gladly embrace any one of you as brothers. If you are an obstacle, I will fucking see you gone, one way or another; clear?""We are guys," Lowry insisted smugly. Old thinking: women protected men."I; don't; care," I glared back. "You may be a sperm-shooter, but inside me is the only surefire cure for the Gender Plague. I repeat: people I love, and there are several, are all alive today because I cared and took an active hand in their survival. My enemies are mostly dead. Being a man will save you from the women in there. It won't save you from me.""You'd kill us?" Pierre whispered."Pierre, my Mother died over a year ago. Where are your Mother and Sister? You don't give a damn about a single fucking human being and yet you expect me to trust you? Why?" I challenged him. "I've already proved to multiple people I can reach beyond my shell and give a fuck. Until you rejoin the Human Race, I value the rest of those battling alongside me far more than you, or anyone else regardless of whether they have a penis, or a vagina. I'm not going to snap your neck, stab, or shoot you. I'm simply not going to bother trying to save you. The World is doing a bang-up job of killing the rest of Humanity off, without my assistance.""I really ought to punch you," Lowry threatened."Give it your best shot," I took a step toward him. That wasn't what he, or I, was expecting. I put down my poor judgment and combative demeanor to exhaustion."Don't, guys," Barabbas interceded."You are an Asshole," Lowry snarled."And you are consistently ignoring reality," I snapped back. "For instance, we are not alone out here, plus we are also at the door." I knocked once. The door swung open to reveal a rather attentive and unhappy Wes Prince. I handed her the bullet and magazine."You were listening in?" Lowry turned his anger on her. Wes' eyes went from me, to him, out into the darkness then back to me, though her words were to Lowry."Yes. Of course I was listening in. I wouldn't call him an Asshole. I'd go for Smart-ass." To me, "Do you enjoy being annoyingly correct?""No. I'd be ecstatic to realize I was completely wrong about everything and had lapsed into a mad delusion," I related, my own anger seeping away. "Being right means I have to keep appreciating and respecting you and your compatriots and taking responsibility for my own clumsy contributions to our current situation, which I don't want to do. I want to go to bed.""Come on in and go to bed then," she softened. She made a slight hand gesture. "My pistol, please, Mr. Pritchard?" she requested of Lowry. Grudgingly he gave her the firearm. She stepped aside. Lowry went first, Barabbas second. Pierre gasped slightly because as he went up the steps he noticed the two Vanishers coming toward us from outside ~ the ones I had predicted to be watching us.I went in after Pierre. Wes followed along. Capri and Kuiko were waiting. The lights had already been dimmed throughout most of the rest of the dwelling."Who were those other two guys?" Wes stopped me."Sergeant Major Daly was a Marine N C O and improv poet renowned for his battlefield musings. His most famous philosophical insight into the fighting spirit of men came in World War One. In his words "Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?" He also won two Medals of Honor, so he must have had some talent.""Company Sergeant-Major John Robert Osborn was a Canadian; that was the country which now makes up the northern third of our current Federation; who found himself misplaced on the island of Hong Kong in late 1941; him, a handful of lads from Winnipeg and a shitload more Japanese. He and the Japanese ended up in a game of grenade tag,”"Grenade tag?" one of my two 'silent' guardians interrupted."Yes ~ grenade tag. Apparently in the olden days, grenades didn't airburst, or explode on impact. You pulled a pin and threw it at the enemy, then waited for the fuse to burn out and the grenade to go 'Boom!.' Quick, brave, and or stupid people could grab that grenade and toss it back. In some cases, one grenade might make two, or three trips before detonating.""Anyway, the Japanese were so very rudely throwing grenades into the position he and his Winnipeg Grenadiers were defending, so he kept returning them. After eight and a half hours of such fun, he came across one he couldn't toss back in time. He covered it with his body to shield his comrades from the blast, dying instantly. The British Empire gave him something called the Victoria Cross for his actions. He was the first Canadian in World War Two to receive it.""Why do you know such stuff?" she grinned. "Oh, I'm Scar and this is Nat," she indicated the third member of the Wes-Scar-Nat Vanisher trio."I considered myself a coward, so I read a lot about brave men. I was kind of hoping to figure out how I could be brave myself, one day," I disclosed."Mission success," the third one smiled. "Go to bed."I gathered up Capri and Kuiko and did as instructed. As I rested my head on the pillow, lights out and my mind gratefully shutting down."Less impressive sex, Bitch," Capri teased."No," I groaned."They definitely think you've got the 'sexy'," Kuiko enlightened me."Can we please just go to sleep?" I begged.Capri rolled onto her side, back to me, gave me a bump in the hip with her ass, then moved away a tiny bit. Kuiko wiggled close, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and then did the same. Unconsciousness took me before any other worries could steal my much needed slumber.The Larger World:As I struggled for sleep a second time, events unfolding in three different places around the Globe (Asia, the City and the Capitol) would impact my fate.Asia:First; the brutal agony still going on as the Sun disappeared over the horizon wasn't over when I woke up the next morning. It was largely misunderstood for some time afterwards, but was referred to as; the Battle for Shanghai.Five Chinese regular force divisions fought the garrison division of Shanghai, its 'reserve' division, hastily gathered volunteer female formations and a hodge-podge of ancillary forces the United Nations could throw into the fray. The goal for both sides was to seize a mother and her unborn child. Within them were the only other active resistant viral factory killing the T2 Gender Plague. By the time I woke up, both sides were sure the other side had killed them both, pretty much insuring the extinction of all sentient life in Eurasia.I say 'Eurasia' because by dusk of the previous day, the Federation knew for sure I, the other source of a cure for the T2, was still alive and kicking, as were my sons. My sons held a nebulous promise for a future date. I was of immediate importance since my adult body could produce enough antivirals to protect tens of thousands of people on a relatively continuous basis, or so it was projected.With, or without the mother and child, China was done for. Japan and Korea were rapidly circling the drain. North of China, the Plague was racing across Siberian Russia. Central Asia had never really recovered from the first round of the Gender Plague all those years ago so, now off the beaten path, would be longer in dying. India had too many outbreaks to even dream of containment. Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and the Levant Republic all had reported cases as well.Europe:Beyond the Urals, the Europeans were grappling with the looming fear of a global economic collapse along with the Specter of Death though 48 hours into the crisis, there were no cases to report yet. Civil order was teetering. Several nations had either closed their borders, or were considering doing so. Women began hording food, and men.Africa:

In this explosive episode of the Culture Uncut Podcast, DJ Nova Fresh and TRE# sit down with Jamila Bynar Barnes, a former Federal veteran prosecutor with over 16 years of experience, to dissect the Diddy case, RICO charges, and the powerful intersection between celebrity culture and the criminal justice system.From jury selection in high-profile cases to the media's influence on due process, Barnes shares a deep, behind-the-scenes look into how federal cases are built, tried, and judged. Learn about the dynamics of domestic violence, plea deals, and witness protection, as well as the vital importance of maintaining integrity in prosecution and trust in the legal system.

Ever wondered how the witness protection program works and what happens to those who enter it? Dr Phil Kowalick, a former director of the National Witness Protection Program, reveals all. For more, head to news.com.auSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jacob Vi Weekly Episode #122   "Witness Protection Student Loans"   Executive Producers Doreen Priestley Neill Wolf Justin Geringer   Patreon.com/JacobVi JacobVi.com CattyShackIL.org BlindedByStereo.Bandcamp.com NoAntics.Bandcamp.com

Today, I'm sharing something deeply personal and serious—my stalker story. For over a year, Timothy C. (we can share his full name soon if need be) has been physically stalking me, and his digital harassment goes back even further. Law enforcement is now involved, but I wanted to update you all in case anything happens to me—so there's no question about who did it. This episode isn't just about my experience; it's also about the reality of stalking, the dangers of obsession, and the importance of taking threats seriously. Stay aware, stay safe, and let's talk about it all, shall we?—https://noblegoldinvestments.com

Putting together VideoFuzzy ep. 100 -- coffee certainly helps!   Hi! My name is Terry J. Aman, marking my 100th episode of VideoFuzzy, reporting the progress I've made in cataloging thousands of VHS transfers and digital recordings. This set covers discs 1751 to 1800 in my Classic Collection. I open with a project overview highlighting some of my finds. For my Fuzzy Feature, I encountered the 100th episode of "Bones" that recalled the first case Booth and Bones worked on together. I found a similar story construction in "In Plain Sight," and talked about that one as well. Under Cross Connections I trace Golden Threads Todd Giebenhain and, later, Michael Shamus Wiles. Also, appearances by Amy Acker, Lee Majors, Kathy Najimy, Bryan Batt, Alan Ruck, Stephen Root, Katie Sackhoff, Mark Bergeron, Angela Bassett, Sarah Silverman, Rita Moreno, Dana Delany, Sheryl Crow, Mary Pat Gleason, Marc A. Sheppard, Charlotte Arren, Johnny Broderick, Cyd Cherise, Fred Astaire, Jane Lynch, Olivia Munn and Brian Skala. And under Fond Reflections, love for Michelle Trachtenberg of "Buffy," "Mercy" and "Six Feet Under," and I share some headcanon from an "Angel" chat group I was in. In Video Outreach, I share comments from author and fellow podcaster Kemper Donovan on my review of "Loose Lips," available here: https://bit.ly/3C11ENN Kemper hosts the "All About Agatha" podcast here: https://bit.ly/43j4hnB Then I chat with my sister, Patti Ellingson, about shows we've enjoyed, including "Doctor Who," "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," "Bridgerton" and "Stranger Things." I know I've mentioned my sister's influence on my television viewing different times over the course of this production, and this felt like a fantastic opportunity to chat with her directly. So much fun! In my Classic Collection, I take almost a disc-by-disc deep dive on what I was finding in this set, beginning with a third meet-cute storyline I encountered in this set: the first season finale of "Human Target." Also, comments on "Arrested Development," "The Simpsons," "FlashForward," "Archer," "24," "Caprica," "Community," "Mercy," "Ugly Betty," "Parks and Recreation," "Justified," 2002 and 2005 MTV Movie Award shows, "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report," "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" C-SPAN coverage of the Affordable Care Act, "Breaking Bad," "The Big Bang Theory," "Jawbreaker," "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" "Batman Returns," "The Three Faces of Eve," "Sybil," Union activity at The Minot Daily News, "Star Trek Voyager," "Fawlty Towers," "Monty Python's Flying Circus," commercials and music videos, "LOST," "Cougar Town," "Castle," "Fringe," "Chuck," "Broadway Melody of 1940," "Silk Stockings," "V" and "Damages."  Also surfacing in this cataloging effort I found home movies, including a one-act presented at the Carnegie Center in Minot in 2002 or so called "Excerpts." Friends of mine read from books in my collection: https://bit.ly/3DslFO6 It's a bit silly, but if you think of books on your shelves murmuring to one another, that was the idea I was going for. Then, from 100 episodes, I share 100 clips! But there'd only be 99, right? Well, one of the clips I shared referenced outtakes from a "Michael Caine in Space" sketch on "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" which, at the time, I had trouble locating. Since then, I was able to locate it here: https://bit.ly/4hnn9XM Enjoy! Finally, in What I've Been Watching, Ralph and I took in Larry Shue's "The Nerd" at the Vernal Theatre downtown, and I shared some thoughts. The company closes out its season with a production of Cole Porter's "Kiss Me Kate" coming up in mid-April, and we're looking forward to it. Tickets and information at https://www.vernaltheatre.com. TOP FIFTEEN: Here's a "Top Fifteen" episode guide for people looking for a quick read-in on this blog and podcast effort: https://videofuzzy.libsyn.com/about. Enjoy! 

Courtrooms, consequences, and corruption! Dave, Andrew, and Raven tackle an emotional Daredevil: Born Again episode. They explore verdict impacts, vigilante views, and how the powerful manipulate the ongoing battle between law and morality. Keep It Nerdie.-00:00 - Intro01:19 - Spoiler Free03:38 - SPOILERS06:11 - Character Development and Symbolism08:54 - Power Dynamics in Relationships11:58 - Courtroom Tension and Tactics14:59 - Witness Protection and Corruption18:09 - Climactic Moments and Consequences27:35 - Unexpected Twists and Character Dynamics30:39 - The Moral Dilemma of Vigilantism34:34 - The Emotional Rollercoaster of the Verdict40:40 - Community Perspectives on Vigilantes46:09 - Fisk's Manipulation and the Media49:04 - The Consequences of Vigilante Justice53:49 - The Aftermath of ..............

Hiya! I'm Terry J. Aman, host of VideoFuzzy, your source for media, commentary and nostalgia, and in episode 100 -- I did 100 episodes of something! -- titled "The Bones in Witness Protection," I talk about two -- actually, three -- meet-cute episodes from Bones, In Plain Sight and Human Target that turned up in my collection, all from April of 2010. I interview my sister, Patti, about our viewing habits. Plus cross connections, fond reflections, a deep dive on my classic collection, by the numbers, acknowledgements, what I've been watching and OK, from 100 episodes, I give you ... 100 clips! For all this and more, add, follow and subscribe to VideoFuzzy, wherever you get your podcasts. Happy viewing! TOP FIFTEEN: Here's a "Top Fifteen" episode guide for people looking for a quick read-in on this blog and podcast effort: https://videofuzzy.libsyn.com/about. Enjoy!

MY FAMILY HAS BEEN KNOWN TO PREY ON THE WEAK!! The Family That Preys Full Reaction Watch Along: https://www.patreon.com/thereelrejects Visit https://huel.com/rejects to get 15% off your order Visit https://www.liquidiv.com & use Promo Code: REJECTS to get 20% off your first order. ​Tyler Perry's The Family That Preys is a 2008 drama that intricately weaves the lives of two families from different socioeconomic backgrounds. The film features a stellar cast, including Alfre Woodard (12 Years a Slave) as Alice Pratt, Kathy Bates (Misery) as Charlotte Cartwright, Sanaa Lathan (Love & Basketball) as Andrea, Cole Hauser (Yellowstone) as William Cartwright, Taraji P. Henson (Hidden Figures) as Pam, Rockmond Dunbar (Prison Break) as Chris, KaDee Strickland (Private Practice) as Jillian Cartwright, Robin Givens (Boomerang) as Abigail Dexter, and Tyler Perry (Diary of a Mad Black Woman) as Ben. Notable scenes that have garnered significant attention include "Charlotte and Alice's Road Trip," "Andrea's Confrontation with Chris," and "The Boardroom Showdown." Tyler Perry's directorial filmography, in order of release, includes Diary of a Mad Black Woman (2005), Madea's Family Reunion (2006), Daddy's Little Girls (2007), Why Did I Get Married? (2007), Meet the Browns (2008), The Family That Preys (2008), Madea Goes to Jail (2009), I Can Do Bad All by Myself (2009), Why Did I Get Married Too? (2010), For Colored Girls (2010), Madea's Big Happy Family (2011), Good Deeds (2012), Madea's Witness Protection (2012), Temptation: Confessions of a Marriage Counselor (2013), A Madea Christmas (2013), The Single Moms Club (2014), Madea's Tough Love (2015), Boo! A Madea Halloween (2016), Boo 2! A Madea Halloween (2017), Acrimony (2018), Nobody's Fool (2018), A Madea Family Funeral (2019), A Fall from Grace (2020), A Madea Homecoming (2022), and A Jazzman's Blues (2022) Follow Aaron On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/therealaaronalexander/?hl=en Intense Suspense by Audionautix is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/... Support The Channel By Getting Some REEL REJECTS Apparel! https://www.rejectnationshop.com/ Follow Us On Socials:  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/  Tik-Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@reelrejects?lang=en Twitter: https://x.com/reelrejects Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ Music Used In Ad:  Hat the Jazz by Twin Musicom is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Happy Alley by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/... POWERED BY @GFUEL Visit https://gfuel.ly/3wD5Ygo and use code REJECTNATION for 20% off select tubs!! Head Editor: https://www.instagram.com/praperhq/?hl=en Co-Editor: Greg Alba Co-Editor: John Humphrey Music In Video: Airport Lounge - Disco Ultralounge by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Ask Us A QUESTION On CAMEO: https://www.cameo.com/thereelrejects Follow TheReelRejects On FACEBOOK, TWITTER, & INSTAGRAM:  FB:  https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thereelrejects Follow GREG ON INSTAGRAM & TWITTER: INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/thegregalba/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thegregalba Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Gene Borrello talks about cooperation. Gene's Book https://www.amazon.com/Born-LIfe-Borrello-Ex-Bonanno-Enforcer/dp/1667805576?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAabgl5rzOHLgE9s24QKECb33XCHl7rgFGmclEwHxuOOR7hLh-zzeY7gfFOY_aem_Y-uyMySLcpR82zgiyv5YBAGene's IG https://www.instagram.com/geneborrello/?hl=enUse promo code COX at https://www.mybookie.agDo you want to be a guest? Fill out the form https://forms.gle/5H7FnhvMHKtUnq7k7Send me an email here: insidetruecrime@gmail.comDo you extra clips and behind the scenes content?Subscribe to my Patreon: https://patreon.com/InsideTrueCrime

Watch This Episode Live: Disney XD Star Interview What happens when a Disney star transitions into the world of artificial intelligence? Devan Leos, known for his roles in Mighty Med and Tyler Perry's Madea's Witness Protection, joins the Gentlemen Style Podcast to share his journey from Hollywood to launching Undetectable AI. Discover how he navigated the entertainment industry, built a tech startup, and what the future holds for AI in media. SUBSCRIBE  @GentlemanStylePodcast   for more exclusive interviews! Devan Leos has done it all—from starring on Disney Channel's Mighty Med to working with Tyler Perry in Madea's Witness Protection. Now, he's taking on the tech world as the co-founder of Undetectable AI, a revolutionary startup focused on AI-generated content detection. In this interview, we discuss: How Devan transitioned from acting to AI entrepreneurship His experiences working on Mighty Med and with Tyler Perry The future of AI in Hollywood and entertainment The challenges and lessons of building a tech startup His advice for young entrepreneurs and aspiring actors This is an episode packed with career insights, AI trends, and entertainment industry secrets. Don't miss it. Marcus Norman is the host of Gentlemen Style Podcast, where he interviews game-changers, entrepreneurs, and celebrities to share real-life insights and success stories. Devan Leos is a former Disney actor best known for his role in Mighty Med and Madea's Witness Protection. Now an entrepreneur, he co-founded Undetectable AI, a tech startup revolutionizing AI-generated content detection and privacy solutions. Resources

I sent an embarrassing text to someone by accident. About a butt gremlin. Also told a lady at Wegmans to stop yelling at her kids and was reminded of the time I pretended to be CPS. Also, still can't kick this cookies n cream addiction. Help!***Email: autisticang38@gmail.comAutistic Logic Mini Course:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://angela-walker-s-school.teachable.com/p/why-this-feels-right-the-hidden-logic-behind-your-choices⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Adult Autism 101: angela-walker-s-school.teachable.com/p/adultautism101Public Journal series: https://www.amazon.com/author/autisticangSubstack: https://autisticang38.substack.comLinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/autistic-ang-87494030a/Quora: https://adulthoodwithachanceofautism.quora.com/Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/autisticang38/Threads:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.threads.net/@autisticang38⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/autisticang38.bsky.social

In this gripping episode of Millennial Mind, I sit down with Kirat Assi to delve into her harrowing experience of being catfished for almost nine years by her own cousin, as documented in the Netflix series 'Sweet Bobby'. Kirat recounts the emotional and psychological impact of the deception, the role of family dynamics, and the challenges she faced in seeking justice. This conversation also explores themes of coercive control, the importance of having a support system, and the healing journey post-trauma. We highlight the complexities of recognising manipulative behaviours and the societal pressures that can exacerbate such situations. An essential watch for anyone looking to understand the nuances of online abuse and the resilience required to overcome it. 02:12 Kirat's Story: The Netflix and Podcast Experience 03:37 The Complexity of the Catfishing Scheme 06:55 The Evolution of Online Relationships 09:59 The Emotional Manipulation Tactics 13:52 The Elaborate Web of Deceit 21:29 The Turning Point: Bobby's Marriage and Aftermath 35:29 Family Struggles and Support 35:45 Navigating Relationships and Traditions 36:15 From Friendship to Romance 38:25 Balancing Work and Personal Life 42:43 Witness Protection and Complications 47:07 Emotional Turmoil and Relationship Dynamics 01:05:07 Marriage Expectations and Cultural Pressures 01:08:05 Balancing Tradition and Modernity 01:09:20 The Catfishing Revelation 01:10:46 Unraveling the Deception 01:12:42 The Emotional and Legal Aftermath 01:14:32 Seeking Justice and Accountability 01:16:06 The Impact of Sharing the Story 01:18:47 Healing and Moving Forward 01:41:40 Advice for Others and Final Thoughts

A brazen shooting at the Lenasia Magistrates' Court in Johannesburg has raised alarming concerns about witness protection in South Africa. A witness scheduled to testify in a 2021 murder case was gunned down, sparking a massive manhunt by police to apprehend the suspect. This shocking incident bears a disturbing resemblance to a similar attack in November 2023, where a key witness in a police torture trial was killed outside the Randburg Magistrate's Court. The recurrence of such incidents has cast a dark shadow over courtroom safety, prompting urgent questions about the efficacy of witness protection measures. To shed more light on this critical issue, Elvis Presslin spoke to Terrence Manase, Spokesperson for the Ministry of Justice and Constitutional Development

Dozens of young girls were subjected to years of sexual abuse and trafficking, only to be consistently let down by every institution that was supposed to protect them. The police response was so poor, Maggie Oliver left her 16 year career with the Greater Manchester Police so she could blow the whistle on the consistently failure of the police. If you or anyone you know needs help: Lifeline (Crisis support and suicide prevention) 13 11 14 1800 Respect (National sexual assault, family and domestic violence counselling line) 1800 737 732 Men's Referral Service (National counselling, information and referral service for men looking to change their behaviour) 1300 766 491 Full Stop Australia (National violence and abuse trauma counselling and recovery Service) 1800 385 578 See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Merry Crisis and Happy Honda-days! We're revisiting a fan favorite from last season with a fresh peppermint twist. This time, it's double the Zoe and a dash more Jill as we take a shot at narrating the audiobook ourselves. Because honestly, who wouldn't rather hear their friends read to them—especially during the holidays—than some AI? Tune in for some festive fun!

Check out this week's sermon!

Patching things up with Yasmin  and  Nikita plus complications. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Strength is equal parts Body and the Mind, but true strength comes from a relentless Spirit.” (Late Saturday Morning) "Why is she here?" Yasmin asked me, giving a nod toward Buffy. Buffy was a good ten meters away, technically fulfilling her duty as my bodyguard. Yasmin had agreed to meet me at a park. "Her name is Buffy Dubois and she's my bodyguard for the weekend," I explained. "At least I'm back at my apartment." "What happens with her if you don't go back to work Monday?" Yasmin inquired. "Does your 'bodyguard' kill you?" "Nah, not Buffy," I gave a lop-sided grin. "My co-workers believe in overkill. I bet they'll send at least three to make it nice, swift and quiet." "Why do you joke about this?" Yasmin studied me. "As opposed to what?" I chuckled. "Lashing out is futile. Running isn't much better. I chose to fight when I must, love when I can and laugh when I should be crying." "Do you think they will come after me?" she murmured. What Yasmin really wanted to know was if her 3-year old son was in danger. From everything I'd learned and seen about Yasmin, she was tough as nails. I had given this some serious thought. I couldn't read Katrina's, or Hayden's minds, so I had to go on my limited experience. Yasmin had seen and heard a great deal yet Elsa let her walk away, and that had definitely been Elsa's doing. Elsa was the worst kind of racial Supremacist; the benevolent one. She didn't base her status on some pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo. She based it on the feats of her ancestors, the training she had endured and the devotion she and her sisters dedicated to their craft; violence. She was better than the rest of humanity because she could kill us if she desired and take what she wanted. We had what we had, even our lives, because she allowed it and she had no orders to the contrary. That was her generosity; her benevolent act. "Might," I sighed. "If I fuck up my balancing act, they might use you to hurt me, or as an object lesson." Yasmin's face clouded with anger. "Why did you invite me over if you thought things would develop this way?" Yasmin glared. "Not being insane, I cannot fathom the minds of the insane," I reasoned. "As soon as I find a way around one challenge, they throw up something new. I certainly didn't know there was a 'members only' facility along with a gym for the rest of us peons." She looked down at her hands. "They really are some kind of crazy cult," she muttered. She sighed. "You can't get out and now they know I exist; this is screwed up. What are we going to do?" She could be referring to herself and her son, or herself and me. "I've got some money," I said. "A few thousand. I can get you plane tickets and you two can take off somewhere safer than here." "You are a real man," Yasmin slowly smiled. What? Sensing my confusion. "You take responsibility for your actions, protect the weak and those in need, and you are brave in the face of pain and adversity. Where I come from, that is the definition of a man." "Funny; where I come from that is the definition of bad Hollywood scriptwriting," I grinned. "Ha," she laughed. She'd decided to stick around and fuck me despite the specter of eminent death. She was not callous to the fate of her child. Far from it. The only ally she had in this fight was me. She'd beat the fuck out of her husband with a bullet in her shoulder. When surrounded by hostile Amazons she still struggled to get to my side. "What about your Jason Statham?" she prodded. "He's English. Besides, I prefer Chiaki Kuriyama," I eyebrow pumped. "There is something about a chick with cast-iron balls." "Who?" Yasmin searched her memories. "Gogo Yubari from Kill Bill Volume 1," I informed her. Yasmin thought that over. "That girl was clearly insane!" she thumped my chest. "Believe me, female mental health issues have never stopped me in the past," I shrugged. "I'm beginning to think you have low standards," Yasmin smirked. "That implies you think more of me than most women who actually know me," I snorted. "Let's go get something to eat. There is a place that serves authentic Acarajé and Vatapá close by," Yasmin stood and took my hand. I went with her. "So, what are those things you mentioned?" I asked. "You'll have to wait and find out. I owe you a few dozen surprises after what you've put me through," she teased. After a few seconds, I started laughing. Yasmin was confused. "As bad as it is going to be for me, think how rough it is going to be on Buffy," I chuckled. "As far as I know, she doesn't even speak Portuguese, much less traveled to Brazil." The restaurant taught me a few things. Yasmin was a regular, the men knew her and were afraid of her. A little bit of eye-ball psychology taught me that Yasmin was apparently a one woman domestic abuse arbitrator. Translation: if you were a man who hit your wife, or girlfriend, she pointed you to the closest Emergency Room after she was done with you. In Brazil, men could use the 'machismo' defense; basically, the bitch had it coming because she threatened my manhood. In Yasmin's New York City, machismo worked a 'little' differently. Essentially, there wasn't a 'straight' Brazilian man alive who would admit that Yasmin, a woman, had beat the ever-living Hell out of them. The Brazilian ladies who stopped by introduced me to another quaint Yasmin term. It was called 'parroting'. Parroting was what happened when some asshole became a real, repeat problem. Yasmin dragged them to the roof of whatever building she found the dumbass in and threw him off; technically aiming for the closest dumpster. The men often flapped and squawked like parrots as the plummeted down, thus the term. Women were stopping by because I appeared to be an aberration; a man on a date with Yasmin. Best of all, 80% of the conversation in a language I didn't know. The first serious question thus caught me out of the blue. "Do you date many women?" one sultry number purred. "I'm not sure I would say 'many'," responded after some feigned concentration. "I only date women from Manhattan; and the Tri-State Area; pretty much the East Coast; and the Ohio Valley and the Mississippi Valley. I should include the Deep South; okay, maybe every women this side of the Rockies; and the West Coast; Hawaii and Alaska would be a change of pace as well." "I've met some nice Asian girls," I continued to muse, "and South America is looking real promising at the moment. At this point," I looked over the small clique of women hanging about, "ignoring Africa, Europe, India and the Middle East would be short-sighted." "Do you fuck as good as you exaggerate, (along with some pet name I didn't know)?" the waitress asked. I could so do her. "No," I sighed. "I'm a virgin boy fresh out of Catholic School and have never known the intimate touch of a woman." For a second, they all wanted to believe that. Guys aren't the only ones who want to 'break in' a virgin, believe me. I've used the 'I'm a nervous virgin uncertain if I want to attempt sex' mystique more than once. It is a win-win. Sexually under-confident women know they won't be judged against any other women and when the sex becomes stellar, they think they are great teachers so they become more willing to experiment. After all, if they get it wrong, I; the young virgin; won't know the difference. Now, it is not that I always lie. It is just that the truth doesn't normally get me what I want. As an example, if a girl is terrible at giving a blowjob; don't tell her that. Tell her she's doing fine, but maybe this (a technique you know works) might feel different (i.e. better/less painful). Sure, I lied to her. Instead of making her upset and not want to continue in the art of fellatio, she learned a valuable lesson and will not only make me happy, she'll make happy every other man she is with later. Others can keep their slavish devotion to honesty. I'd rather dispense happiness. Besides, I'll give them other reasons to be pissed with me soon enough. "Hardly," Yasmin laughed. "I imagine the closest you've come to religion is thanking God when you've discovered your date had a horny sister and was willing to share." "Wow; break room talk much," I had the decency to appear embarrassed. "Why yes," Yasmin smirked. "Ms. Reichmann was very expressive in her recounting of your bedroom antics with her and her sister after the sister's date passed out." "To be fair, I hadn't had sex all day and I was kind of wound up," I offered up. "Do you like toying with women's affections?" my original questioner asked. "Wha; wait," I frowned. "You think I'm going out with Yasmin because I want to have sex with her?" Of course I was. "She's interesting and we both practice Brazilian jujutsu." "Why would I hunt down a studio when I found a perfectly good practitioner on the job? Plus, my work place had the sparring mats," I explained. Remember, when lying, tell a lie your audience wants to believe. Yasmin was a feminine titan, standing alone (with her son) against a hostile male world. The women around me counted on that. Dating a hot, physically fit hunk for the purpose of sexual gratification was totally realistic. Dating me because I knew her martial arts style was far less believable, but made them happier, so they went with option B; the workout buddy. "The truth must be like gold to you," Yasmin snickered. "It is so valuable, you hardly ever use it." She looked at her buddies. "I have wrestled him to the mat and he was VERY interested." "Yasmin, that wasn't me hard. When aroused, I'm much bigger," I pleaded. "Liar," she smacked me in the bicep. "I need to take care of something. Don't run off with him," she told the girls; in English; for my benefit. Yasmin left our small table and headed for Buffy who was leaning against the wall right inside the doorway. I couldn't overhear what they were saying. Buffy smiled, nodded and took a table. A minute later, Yasmin had ordered food for Buffy then came back my way. "Is that your girlfriend?" my waitress asked. Why she wasn't working wasn't clear to me. "No, she's his bodyguard," Yasmin interrupted. "Yes, she is," I countered half a second later. I looked at Yasmin. "You know that woman who beat me into the ground?" I met Yasmin's gaze. She nodded. "Well, she was giving Buffy crap for all kinds of reason; only peripherally for befriending me. I didn't have sex with her to get back at that lady. I did it because she needed me and I needed her. After this, we can't engage in intercourse for; 71 days. It's complicated." "Sex with you is some sort of gift?" another one taunted. "Absolutely," I grinned. "Ask every other woman I've been with. Hell, they love me so much, when we break up they normally take some sort of weapon to me, books being the most popular, but I've been shot at, stabbed, punched, slapped and wracked too." There was a moment of silence. Yasmin had her own war story that was well known. "I've seen him naked," Yasmin's smile cut through the tension. "He has the scars to prove it." "You peeked when we were changing?" I gasped. I wasn't really all that surprised. "Yes," she snickered. "They only have Women's changing rooms where Cáel works," she related to the other ladies. The conversation may have flipped back to Portuguese yet the words were definitely descriptive. Either that, or my penis had slipped passed my zipper and the buttons on my shirt had burst off exposing my broad chest and rock hard abs. Yasmin looked at me and said, "É o meu P.A." The girls all laughed. "Anyone going to clue me in on the joke?" I requested. By mutual consensus, they agreed not to; bitches. For a while, this man had been yelling from the kitchen. If finally dawned on me, and our waitress, the cook had been calling her to pick up her orders. I could have ignored her short denim skirt and seductive sway of the hips, but that would have been disingenuous. Besides, in some cultures, if your 'man' wasn't noticing the women around you, he was somewhat less of a man. I unleashed my inner 'machismo' and oinked. Yasmin shoved me while laughing. The other women found my being distracted amusing as well. I could really get used to Brazilian culture especially when that included Brazilian women. After lunch, we picked up Buffy on the way out. Buffy 'thanked' Yasmin; in Portuguese. Mother-fucker. That was so unfair. Never one to miss an opportunity to make a bad situation better; or worse, I asked Buffy what 'É o meu P.A.' meant. Buffy said something to Yasmin in Portuguese. Yasmin responded. They both laughed; bitches. "It is a term of endearment," Buffy assured me. Sure it was. That is why neither one would tell me what it meant; I repeat yet again; bitches. [FYI: 'É o meu P.A.' (P.A. stands for Pinto Amigo) literally means 'my friend Penis (or) my penis friend'. In Brazilian Portuguese slang (many thanks to a buddy from Portugal who saved me from a grievous linguistic error) this is a term of sexual endearment indicating trust and a sexual history, but don't tell Cáel that.] Yasmin and I walked a ways before she had to head in a different direction. We kissed. I kept my hands firmly on her hips like a good boy. She put her hand down my pants and stroked my cock for about a minute, in public. "Next time, I think we have sex," Yasmin winked before departing. I watched her walk away until she vanished in the crowd. She didn't look back. She was far too confident. "Well, she seems nice," Buffy caught me off-guard. She'd snuck up while I was watching Yasmin and she was still being so horribly friendly to me. Best of all, she assured me she'd be back to her normally aggressive self-come Monday morning; right about the time I finally got used to her being nice to me. "Yeah; she is," I sighed. "What's wrong?" Buffy inquired compassionately. "What do you mean?" I stared evenly at Buffy. "Hanging out with me could get her killed, that's what's wrong." "That's not likely to happen," Buffy to reassure me. I shook my head. "I'd ask you if you were nuts, but I know you are nuts," I grunted. "Elsa wouldn't kill you yet she'd kill Yasmin and her son without batting an eye if she felt a severe lesson was in order. Buffy, you work for animals. We both do. The difference being that you are one." "I don't think you appreciate how popular you are with the company," Buffy insisted. "You've worked really hard to impress them and they value your efforts." I screamed to the Heavens. Elsewhere, I would have drawn some serious looks. In NYC, I barely drew any notice. "Yeah; great. Remind me to clap like a pet seal Monday morning. Buffy, you, Katrina and a few others are grinning, thinking you've made great strides on this New Directive and the crime for a security guard shooting me as I walk in the office every day is the same; a transfer to someplace less pleasant. Correct me if I'm wrong," I laid into her. "The difference is that they don't want to shoot you," Buffy countered. "Wow, if you put 'you-Buffy' in place of 'you-Cáel' you will realize how inconsequential that is," I informed her. "I'm a human being; unless I'm in Havenstone. Inside, my well-being is based solely on your sufferance; just like a test monkey." "If you really empathized, you would realize the only other people that walk around think 'gosh, I shouldn't murder that person today' are serial killers. Yet you expect me to be thankful for tap dancing faster than you shoot at my feet. You have this happy dream that I've accomplished anything," I shook my head. "In 71 days one of you is going to kill me; that is the reality I'm staring down," I gazed at her. "Why do you think we'll turn on you then?" Buffy actually appeared upset. "Havenstone has been letting me play with this '84 Day' fiction because it amuses all of you," I took a deep breath. "Whatever I can do in the last 71 days of my life probably won't matter." "You've made a difference with Aya and Oneida," Buffy rallied. "Great, I saved the life of someone who would stab me in the heart if I slapped her," I countered. "As for Aya; I dread to think what she will go through when she figures out you've put me down like a rabid dog. I help her because I have to try, because the rest of you have written her off." We walked the rest of the way to the apartment in silence. "Katrina is not going to like the results of our little chat," Buffy mumbled. I laughed. "Buffy, she knows. When the time comes she's sending Elsa to take me alive. I don't know how I'm going to beat her. It is one of the thousand, or so, things I'm working on," I chuckled. "I know Katrina better than you do," Buffy rolled her eyes. "I think you under-estimate her affection for you." "I don't doubt her affection for me," I told Buffy. "I simply deem it to be valueless. Listen, it took me ten seconds to figure out what Aya needed at the Archery range." "Not a God-damn person who knew her their entire lives would have ever done what I did," I continued. "It wasn't that they didn't understand what needed to be done; show a little faith in her. It was that none of them would have ever had the humanity to do it. Katrina could think the Sun rises and sets on me. It doesn't change a damn thing that happens in 71days." I neglected to say that Katrina murdered/dueled her own grandmother to bring Desiree into the Epona fold. That was the head of her household. I wasn't an Amazon, or even a woman. Buffy was making shit up to keep the insanity of her life at bay. Oh, she'd kill me if Katrina gave the order. She'd hate herself for it. That wouldn't do me a damn bit of good though. (Saturday Afternoon and then some) Our conversation died for two reasons as I led the way into my apartment. First off, it was Havenstone business and neither one of us was foolish enough to talk about it in front of Timothy and Odette. The other reason would have been Brooke and Libra sitting on Timothy's sofa. Those two stood up as we entered. "Hi;” I got to say. "We just came around to tell you that you are an;” Libra spat but then, "Which one is this?" "You could have called first," I snapped back. I reached for my phone; which wasn't there. Odette sheepishly lifted my phone up from her side. I imagine that bitch had been ringing off the hook since my departure. There was a major bitch-fest coming down the pipeline. I wasn't going to let that happen. There is an advantage to people having a low opinion of you. It gives you the unspoken permission to act like a crass asshole whenever you feel like it. "This lady is Buffy Dubois and she's my bodyguard for the weekend," I tried to sound bored. "Listen, the restaurant we went to was long on sizzling hot food and short on ceiling fans, so I'm going to take a shower," I callously stated. "Brooke, want to join me?" No, Brooke didn't want to join me. She wanted to rip my hair out in large, painful clumps. She was the Princess and I was the bottom feeder with dirt under my fingernails (huge salary be damned). "No, I don't want to shower with you, you Jerk!" Brooke snarled. Sadly, now I was making poor use of my loyal Odette. Such is life. "We only stayed long enough to give you a piece of our minds." "I'll come with you!" Odette peeped. She had been on the floor, back to the small space of wall between the workout alcove and the door to my bedroom. Timothy was leaning on the portion of the living room wall next to the short hall that led to the bathroom and his bedroom. He seemed more and more amused as the encountered unfolded. "No," Brooke squalled. "I'm not done with him yet." She followed me to the bathroom. Now normally, I would get a towel from the bathroom, go to my bedroom to strip down then return to the bathroom for a shower, or soak in the tub. This time I went straight to the bathroom. Brooke had built up a good head of steam, I slammed the door shut the second she came in. She was about to unload some truly spectacular vitriol on me. That wasn't the game plan. I shoved Brooke into the door and pressed my lips against hers, conveying my deep desire for her and dowsing her rage. "No, you don't;” she got out. Game plan. "God Brooke, I've been worried sick about you. Have you been holding up okay?" I turned on the concern. This is what she wanted to hear. I wasn't indifferent to her emotional state. In fact, I was so wrapped up in her Brooke's turmoil I was nearly paralyzed into inactivity. These are the words that Brooke wanted. What mattered to Brooke most was Brooke, followed up by how much Brooke mattered to other people. "I; ah," she mumbled before we kissed once more. This time she was hungry and passionate. She had reaffirmed that I was in her 'corner'. Now she could get down to the real reason she'd shown up to a place where some middle class guy who didn't return her phone calls lived; sex. "Work's been a mess since Trent jumped ship and took that promotion," I grumbled, still focused on giving Brooke oral stimulation. "The important thing is how have you been recovering? How have you been coming along?" Seduction is multi-layered. Know your partner; not just their erogenous zones, but their likes, dislikes, mindset and goals. Thus I used words like 'Trent jumped ship' and 'promotion' to fixate Brooke's anger on Trent, not me. He deserved it. Also, I used 'recovering' and 'coming along' to insinuate that Brooke; strong Brooke; was getting through this trauma all on her own, so now she could let me help her and not be in a weak, desperate position. All that led up to Brooke justifying to herself that she could let me ravish her in the shower without her looking like some insecure, post-breakup slut. The first words that came to mind were 'Pound Puppy' though 'Pound Kitty' was more apropos. I was nice, tender, gentle and loving as I drew her into the tub with the shower on. She cuddled against my chest, got off a few tears; mainly for my benefit to express how much she still needed comforting. Then I began tearing her up. I went VOA this time out; vaginal, oral, anal; and she had no doubt that I was Fucking her, capital 'F'. She was no Chalmers' girl, but she certainly spared no expense on the screams, howls and caterwauls as I ripped piece after sensual piece off of her; body and soul. Thankfully I keep six condoms beneath the shampoo dispenser. It is indicative of the state of disrepair of our apartment building that the water heater didn't exhaust the water supply and turn cold; it turned lukewarm. More screwing for Brooke and me. When she finally came crashing down from her trash pile of depression, self-doubt and rage over a world that had suddenly stopped making sense, I cut off the water, held her tight, and exited us from the tub. Both being players, Timothy and I had stocked up on nice, plush terry-cloth towels. Nothing builds up a mood for a repeat performance like drying off in a really comfy towel, or kills it faster than being wrapped up in some rag. I partially dried off Brooke because she was still craving close, romantic contact. Again, the most important person in the room was Brooke, and by attending to her, I was reinforcing that. I even stopped what I was doing to watch her put her underwear, socks then pants back on. She loved it. Then Brooke began looking around the small space for her bra. I had been hiding it behind my back. I revealed it, avoided having her swipe it back then used one finger to beckon her forward. Her resistance was enough to assert her independence, but not enough to dampen the sensuous course of events. She stepped forward, I tapped my lips indicating she had to kiss me to get back her undergarment. Brooke faux-resisted then kissed me. Then she French kissed me. I gave her bra back, still she pushed her body against mine, kissing away. She gave up the oral gratification when she wanted to give it up. She was the one in command, she asserted that by giving me what I wanted, so I was okay with things. She kept radiating her confidence as I kept very still, looking her over as she finished putting on her clothes. I cannot stress this enough: give the girl what she wants. There was absolutely no difference between lashing Rhada, instructing Odette in sensuality, finger fucking Elsa, upping my game to the highest levels with Buffy and going at Brooke in a romantic-aggressive style. Oh yeah, it is rarely productive to actually ask a girl what she wants. Most of the time they want to please you, so they'll lie. Lie better than they do and read what their body likes. Go from there. That was another gift from my mentor. When she was teaching me ancient love poetry, literature and culture, she was doing more than that. She was teaching me how to read women, get inside their minds and make them happy with things they may not even acknowledged they liked. God, I miss her. We/she decided that graduation was the end of the road for our romantic journey. She'd find another young man in need and start over. I would go out in the world and spread the passion and love, my fidelity failings be damned. Libra wasn't far from being a happy camper when Brooke and I came back out of the bathroom, one arm around Brooke's waist, the other holding my clothes and me in a towel. "Woot!" Odette, sitting on the floor once more, fist-pumped. "You knocked it right out of the ballpark." Brooke glared. Libra scowled. Odette basked in the knowledge that she was on the 'inside' of my little world now. She didn't have to play games. If she wanted to hang out, or have sex, she could come on over and I'd do my best to accommodate her. Odette had gone from hook-up, to fuck-buddy, to friend. She was still a girl around me with all the resulting pitfalls. That wasn't going to go away. What she had decided was that she was getting to hang out with cool, adult people. Dating in high school had never been difficult yet in the transition to adulthood, she'd be caught in a state of limbo. One night she met this young, dark stranger and she'd decided to take a chance. Now she had a big, musclebound gay sofa-buddy who was a relatively famous tattoo artist, a woman bed companion who apparently kicked ass for a secret society of some kind (Odette wasn't stupid) and that gorgeous, dark stranger to make love to her, to cuddle with and to wake up next to. I'd even kissed her before I raced off to work. I never kicked her out once I was 'finished' with her. We hung out, watched movies and talked about adult stuff. Timothy had offered to take her to a gay club; even a gay strip club. She couldn't wait. Odette wanted the three of us; she liked the idea of being a trio; going clubbing. Sure, she'd be sponging off me, but Timothy said I wouldn't mind. Timothy even insisted that we both really liked her. He also told Odette that 'with all the wacky bitches in his life, he needs you'. Before this, Odette had always thought of one boy-one girl. After a few days with me, monogamy flew out the window and she honestly couldn't recall why she'd been so hung up on it. I gave Brooke another steamy kiss, before heading to my bedroom. I bent over Odette, stroked her cheek as she looked up and smiled at me, and met her lips in a tender, caring moment. Yes, she knew she was special to me. Libra was ready to bifurcate me; verbally. Blood is so difficult to get out of clothes. Why was I going to get away with this? I banged the Trent out of Brooke; again. She could assume I was either ignoring her; Heaven forbid; or I was working up to her; a far more appealing illusion. I nearly closed my door. I wanted to hear what was going on. "Let's go," Libra groused. "Why don't we see if he wants to go out to eat?" Brooke suggested, ignoring Buffy, Odette and Timothy. "We had Brazilian for lunch," Buffy calmly informed them. It was mid-afternoon. "Oh, how was Yasmin?" Odette inquired in a friendly manner. "Are you his social director?" Libra sneered. "Oh no," Odette chattered back. "Cáel Nyilas and I are buddies. We have a lot of sex, but mainly I hang around for the meals and company." "Is he fucking you too?" Libra snapped. "Yes," Buffy sighed happily. "Yes he is. It is only for this weekend. After that, I have to wait for the end of his internship." "Damn," Libra seethed, "Is he fucking you as well?" "No," Timothy said regretfully. "Cáel isn't even bi-curious, despite my dreams and fantasies." "I guess that's something," Libra grumbled. Right then I stepped out, looking all male-scrumptious. For guys, imagine a D-Cup tanned blonde, in a midriff exposing damp, white t-shirt, no bra, and red bikini bottoms. This is pretty much how most women demean me in their libido clouded minds. I've never actually felt demeaned by this. I mean, if the opposite sex finds me sexy, do I really care if that's going to be the limit of them getting to know me? I think not. By the way, for all you curvaceous blondes out there who gripe and groan about men only seeing you as sex objects; really? That bothers you? Do this; tease them the say 'now sit there and listen to what I have to say, or no nookie for you'. Talk away. Will they understand you? No, but then very few of us understand Stephen Hawking either. Consider yourself in a select group that includes the smartest human on the planet. That guy/girl on their knees before you pleading for intimate contact? They will agree with you in a heartbeat. Congrats; you are a genius. I also don't mind. If women stopped wanting sex, I doubt my life would not be worth living. Less I be allowed to savor a victory, there was a knock at the door. I headed that way. "Oh yeah; Cáel," Timothy called out. "Nikita called and said she was going to stop by." And here I was with two sexually dressed (it was hard for Libra and Brooke to not look sexy) hotties, plus Odette and a Havenstone Stormtrooper in my crib. Had I whispered for Odette to go hide in Timothy's room, she would have hopped to it. Had I fell on my knees, begged, pleaded and was shown to be speaking the Words of God, Libra and Brooke wouldn't have moved an inch. Fortunately (?) this happens to me a great deal. "Hey Nikita," I gave her a sleepy smile. I started to usher in my policewoman/somewhat-girlfriend. Yes, I was acting like nothing was going on, much less like I'd done something wrong. I was aided in this by the fact that the sex had all been shower-based, thus not odiferous. This wasn't a great plan, or even a good plan. It was a weak plan, in fact; rather desperate and last ditch. "Hi," Nikita scanned the room. "Who is this bimbo?" Libra insulted both Nikita and me. "New York City Policewoman Nikita Kutuzov," Niki snapped back. "Who the fuck are you?" "That's Libra Chalmers," Odette spoke up when the two girls wouldn't. "Her sister and Cáel Nyilas were friends at college." "The raven-haired woman is Brooke Lee and her boyfriend was a total douche and made work difficult for Cáel Nyilas and life horrible for her," Odette finished. That was so sweet of her; it was almost 'me'-like. "Are either of you Havenstone?" Niki studied them. "That would be me," Buffy spoke up. Since she wasn't dressed like a desperate cry for sex (like the other three women), Nikita hadn't truly soaked her in yet. For starters, Buffy was clearly older than the rest. "Do you have any weapons on you?" Niki glared. "Yes; do you want to see my Concealed Weapon permits?" Buffy remained serene. "Nice and slow," Niki told Buffy as her hand came to rest on the grip of her 9 mm. Nikita was off-duty so this was an awkward situation. "You have girlfriends with guns?" Brooke gasped. She seemed excited. Libra was uncertain. Nikita being Nikita, she took Buffy's word for nothing, using her cellphone to call in and check the three permits; gun, knife, knife. She wanted to card everybody, but I nixed that. These were my house guests. I put my foot down. Niki became truly angry with me. "I need to talk to you; outside," Nikita insisted. I didn't hesitate to go with her. By outside, she meant to her car because she was sure my place was under surveillance. She was most likely right. As soon as I put my ass on the passenger seat, Nikita wrapped me in a smothering embrace. "I've been so worried about you," she sniffled. No, Nikita wasn't brain damaged, or forgiving. She knew that if I hadn't already had sex with some, if not all, of the four women in my place, I most likely would in the next 36 hours. Don't forget that she knew I was a philanderer, had come to grips with that, and was beginning to count up my allowed indiscretions before she finally gave up on my worthless ass. "You shouldn't do that, Nikita," I hugged her tightly to me. "You have a freaking dangerous job and I'm a big boy. I'll deal with my work problems. You deal with yours and we take what time together as we can." "This is not how the World is supposed to work," she mumbled. "There are two ways of looking at it, Nikita," I stroked her hair. "Peace is merely the interruption of the otherwise endless cycle violence, or life is a constant struggle to avoid the inevitable slide into anarchy." "For such a loving, joyous man, you have a terribly dark side to you," Nikita looked into my eyes. "I read this in a book on the philosophy of social collapse; Imagine that last legionnaire standing atop Hadrian's Wall, his companions ready to march away yet knowing the Picts remained just out of sight, waiting for the last guardians to depart," I recalled. "Did he contemplate that, despite generations of sacrifice, nothing had change, or did he realize that, with their lives, those fellow soldiers bought centuries of peace to an otherwise war-torn land?" "Nikita, no victory is permanent," I explained. "One day the lights will go out in this city and never come back on. One day everything you've worked for will fall. That doesn't mean what you are doing doesn't have value, or that I don't appreciate what you do. Every life you save is still precious; it is invaluable to that person, if no one else." "Every day you take up the badge and gun means hundreds of others get to live their lives wrapped up in the illusion they live in a lawful society," I said. "I say 'illusion' because people tend to not understand that nothing lawful is permanent. They don't understand that one day that last legionnaire will be looking out over their neighborhoods. It is inevitable." "Is that why you don't give a crap about any of your relationships; is this the excuse that you use to cheat; that nothing is ever permanent?" Nikita's gaze hardened. "Remind me to never be honest with you again," I opened the door. Yeah, I was pissed. I'd broken my rule; lie to make the girl happy; and this is what it got me. "Damn it," Nikita yanked on my arm, not letting me leave, "Cáel Nyilas, what am I supposed to think after you tell me that?" I hesitated. I hated honesty. "I don't give a crap about some nebulous, transitory victory, Nikita," I kept looking away. "I don't see monogamy as pointless any more than I feel law enforcement as pointless." "That doesn't mean I want to be a cop, or in only one relationship. My Dad loved my Mom. He never dated after she died. He loved me and raised me the best he could. That is one of the best examples of monogamy I've ever witnessed. It simply isn't me," I told her. "Of greater relevance is my initial comment about the value of victory." "You think you can 'fix' my situation; that somehow the rule of law can apply to people who live outside of it," I turned around. "That isn't happening. You are more likely to convict every banker that had a hand in the 2008 housing loan collapse than you are to ever bring a single senior Havenstone employee up on any charges." "It is wrong," Nikita insisted. "I'm not being naive. No criminal conspiracy is ever impenetrable." "They are not a criminal conspiracy," I sighed. "They are a nation-state without demarcated borders. Criminals are fixated on making money." "Havenstone uses money as part of their arsenal to get what they want," I said. "What is that?" Nikita. "I'll never tell you," I put our faces within millimeter of each other. "Cáel, I want to help you," Nikita persisted. "You can't, Nikita," I stared. "Rome calls and you will obey. It is who you are. It is what I like about you. It also means you won't break the law for me, which means, in the terms of rescue, you are useless to me as anything except a friend. Personally, I suggest you appreciate the next 70 days with me, then find someone who will take care of you, marry them and raise the next generation of policemen and women." "Are you a police officer?" she altered her approach. "No," I played along. "Then don't assume you know what I can and can't accomplish," Nikita grew fierce. "Al-Qaeda thought they were untouchable too. As did the KKK and the Mafia." "Right, Nikita, except there are still terrorists, violent racists and organized crime; different faces but the same hydra," I relayed. "That is what I'm trying to tell you; these ladies are not conventional criminals. They are not going to flip on each other. They aren't afraid of drone attacks, wiretaps, or video surveillance." "If the Justice Department goes after them, they'll strike back. Don't think assassinations and bombings; think 'Tail-hook' and 'Fast and Furious'. The problem is they already know what rules you play by and how law enforcement works. You won't be able to get your side to understand how Havenstone works until it is too late," I stressed. "Your side? We are your side, Cáel Nyilas," Nikita insisted. "No, you are not," I responded. "My side wants to deal with this himself, only risking his life and earnestly not wanting to have my actions resulting in hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. Your gang wants to enforce the law and turn this problem into a nice, tidy bundle. Making twenty arrests and confiscating a few million in assets will not make Havenstone go away." "They will fade back into the shadows and then wreck vengeance upon you all when it is convenient for them," I stated confidently. I had sat in on exactly one board meeting. That had been enough of an education to figure out how they operated and how long-term their planning was. They wouldn't put a bullet into the head of the lead investigator. No, fifteen years later, while having a routine medical procedure, there would be a mix-up with his medication and he'd die. A few months later, his son, that man's wife and two children would all be involved in a fatal car accident. Yes, they wiped out your family. My bet was they had already done something like that. They'd find a weak link in the investigative team, show him/her the evidence of past misdeeds and impress upon them that they would be next. Witness Protection? Over a twenty year old string of accidents? The fed either played ball, or waited a decade, or two, for their loved ones to start dropping. Havenstone Commercial Investments was only 22 years old. Without a doubt, there had been other incarnations built up then discarded only for some new front to take its place. As for grudges; the Amazons took it as a personal affront that an independent Hellas existed today, despite the reality that those Greeks had little lineage in common with the Greeks from the time of Achilles. The conundrum was I couldn't use the word 'Amazons', or refer to the board meeting. I couldn't talk about the armory, Buffy, or Desiree's backgrounds, or truly impress upon Nikita the absolute level of fanaticism Havenstone engendered in their congregation. If I hinted at it, she'd think of Jonestown, not the Karen Insurgency in Burma. "Why do you have such faith in them, but not in your own law enforcement?" Nikita pleaded. "Training, fanaticism, the ability to act with few restrictions, and their willingness to let a member who makes a mistake to live and learn from it instead of being sacrificed for political and popular expediency," I counted off my points. "They prepare for war, not peacekeeping," I clarified. "By that, I mean that each standard office worker is the equivalent of a soldier in any fully modern armed force. For whatever cause you and your fellow NYPD believe in, there is also a long history of corruption. There is none of that at Havenstone. Infighting; yes. They would never betray the principles of their organization though." "You work under the scrutiny of the judicial system, a normally hostile press and a special panel whose sole duty is to keep your law enforcers in line. They work for superiors who give them far more latitude," I continued. "A Havenstone breaks an external law, the get assigned elsewhere. Violating their internal code of conduct is harsh and immediate then resolved." "You screw up, and you are pilloried in the press, abandoned by your superiors and shunned by your peers as if you had a contagion," I sighed. "The NYPD loses you as a resource because of one mistake. Despite the numerous advantaged of living in a Democratic Republic and a capitalist economy, the underlying weaknesses remain." "People are people, thus flawed. Office-seekers need money and to be scandal-free to get elected which has become a continuous process," I stated. "Those realities allow entities like Havenstone to exist in a parasitic relationship with our society. Face it, why pay $100 million in fines, duties and taxes when you can pay $1 million in campaign contributions." "You are so damn cynical," Nikita frowned. "Nikita," I huffed. "No, I'm not cynical. I'm a romantic realist. I know the score. Despite that, I still chose to make my own way in the world. I don't date a woman expecting a 'Happily Ever After'. I also never make a plan to leave a lady. It happens regularly enough and it is my fault most often, yet it has never been my intention to avoid permanence." "I don't understand you at all!" she yelled. This was expected. This was her prodding me into having some frenzied, 'make me forget about the cruelty of the World' sex. "Nikita, if I did chose to break the law, I wouldn't be caught because there is some cop out there better than me. If I was caught, it would be that the cops have tons more resources than I possess," I explained. "I'm not even criminally inclined and I can beat the system. This doesn't mean I plan to break the law. I have no reason to. In the same way, I won't surrender because I don't have to. I'm still alive and have a degree of freedom," I told her. "It is because I know the score that I can fight with hope. I have spent the last four years not living the easy life; the safe life." "I have the scars to prove it, along with no regrets, because I am me; the man I want to be," I smiled. "So what that I work for killers; they are hot and most of them are willing. The unwilling ones I'll bring around eventually; I always do." Now she wanted to pepper spray, Taser, baton beat and pistol whip me; all at the same time. Sex. "I keep asking myself why I care about you," Nikita wailed. "I don't even know why I came over today. I should have known you would have at least one woman in your apartment. I could have waited for you to return a single damn phone call; but No, I had to drive over and have you stomp on my heart instead." "I don't know how to reply to that," I mused. I did, but drawing it out was important. "My life is a nightmare. It will most likely end in tragedy. If I loved you, I would send you away in a loud, vocal breakup that would convince Havenstone we were done and that would be that. My problem is I like; I selfishly want to know you better and I resonate with you like no other." When you are the bad guy and she knows you are the bad guy, play the bad guy. See, if I was a good guy, I would sacrifice of myself and send her away. Instead, I was 'selfish' and I was selfish because we 'resonated'. Resonate is a good, romantic word. Its definition is a bit shady, thus she can interpret it the way she desires. Before you hate me more than you already do, please recall that I really liked Nikita. She was special to me. Unfortunately, 'special' has sort of a nebulous meaning for me. To put that in perspective, my heart is a five year old child in a toy story. It goes 'get that one, get that one' without explaining to me exactly why I end up doing what I do. "I want you so much," she groused, hating herself for her naked desire. "Let's go back to my place and make love," I suggested. She jerked slightly. "What about all those other women?" she questioned. "Odette is a dear friend, Buffy is my bodyguard and the other two showed up all on their own," I informed her. "I like Libra and Brooke well enough, but the attraction is purely sexual (it better damn be all it is). I hope we have something more," I said. I could even make honesty my bitch, it seemed. "Fine. Let's go before I regain my sanity," Nikita declared. It doesn't take a NASA mission control officer to know that really means 'fuck me now; I've soaked my panties'. Nikita was hopping up and down on the balls of her feet by the time we exited her car and made it around to her/street side. She grabbed my hand and yanked my unresisting form hurriedly back to my apartment. We nearly crashed into Buffy who had been watching from the door. Nikita flashed an embarrassed look. That didn't stop her from bounding up the stairs three at a time as we raced up to my place. Nikita was slowing down on the final approach only to have Odette open the door and stand aside; Buffy had phoned her. In we swept. Libra and Brooke rose from the sofa, I gave them an apologetic look before Nikita drew me into the bedroom. I slammed the door shut. "What the Hell!" Libra screamed. What can I say? When I truly set out to fuck a girl, I leave them wanting more. Before you think I'm an egotist, or a Sex God, it is they want to have sex with me, not that they care about what I want. I've been jumped while putting gas in a friend's car by a girl, whose name I couldn't recall at the moment, who I had banged in a bar's men's room. Midway through that encounter (we were standing up, my back against the car, and her legs spread up and wide as she coasted down from her first orgasm), she confided in me she'd been running around with a condom in her pocket in hopes of finding me; which proved she didn't really know me; I always have a condom. I even have some stashed in my bathroom  and  kitchen; just in case. After that, for the rest of my college career the Kwiki Mart attendant kept smirking at me; the gas pumps had video surveillance. My friend and his date were amused too. My date; less so. Maybe I should have stopped at the first orgasm. It turned out okay. See, unknown to anyone at the start, the girl's (Genevieve it turned out) boyfriend and I had been in a skiing accident and the poor bastard had suffered frostbite dragging me to safety, so I owed Genevieve big time. Yes, my date bought that hastily conjured excuse. All was right with the world and I ended up screwing my date that night and for the next two weeks. That relationship fell apart when three different servers at a Hooters gave me lap dances (who knew; Hooters girls don't normally give lap dances). I swear to God I had never been there before; the truth didn't work that time either. That wasn't too bad. It reminded me of Genevieve. I went back to the bar and nailed her again. In case it matters, I don't have a fake ID. I lie to the DMV about where I live. It is all official-like, if completely illegal. Back to my current official; a rapid analysis of the kaleidoscope of emotions. Lust, fear and confusion battled for dominance. I had to take into account her sexual background, parenting, and personal let downs. I had to give her something she didn't want. No, I wasn't going against my tried and true strategy. I had to give Nikita something she didn't want yet really needed. She began trying to strip off her clothes. Off went her faded denim jacket (despite the heat in NYC in the early summer) then her short-sleeved shirt. Poor Nikita; her nice, gossamer white bra was obviously new; that crisp, pure white doesn't come from Tide, and she had marks from the first bra she'd put on today. Off went the gun; and the cuffs. I had kicked off my shoes and so quickly pulled down my pants it burned my skin. The policewoman was drinking up my Nikita-inspired arousal so I was able to strip off my shirt too. She began working down her pants and undies in one motion when I jumped her. "Hey wait," she giggled. She became a tad more annoyed when I wouldn't relent. With her pants and panties still above her knees, I slipped on a condom, rolled her over and began. "I don't want to do it this way," Nikita insisted angrily. "Let me up." "I can't wait," I grunted in my doggy-style. In I went. "Girr; Girr; ah," she finally gave into her arousal. "Ah; ah; aha." That brought me to a halt. I wove my arms around her waist and drew her back to my chest. "Are you ready to have sex because you want it instead of doing it because you don't know what else to do?" I whispered in her ear. She twisted her head around. Words failed her so we kissed. "Can I take my pants off now?" sighed happily. "I don't know. I kinda like you like this," I replied. "I can barely move," she protested. "That would be a point in my favor," I snickered. Nikita got back at me by wiggling in my lap. Yeah, that put me in my place alright. Changing our orientation was part of my instinctual reaction to her desire for a close visual connection. The whole face down/ass up was only a trick to erase her confusion. Keeping inside of Nikita, I twisted her around until she was on her back, her bound legs resting on my crooked right elbow. Curse me, Nikita looked up at me consumed by bliss. There is disappointment, settling for what you've got, getting what you want and finally, being giving something you never considered yet now you wonder how you lived so long without. This wasn't only a 'good dicking'. It was the revelation that my life was a total train wreck and for a crusader like Nikita, I was virtually the Holy Grail. I would never 'not be in trouble' thus constantly in need of saving. To her, I had transformed into the perfect boyfriend. I could never run away, or be saved by anyone else but her. Oh; and I was giving her a terribly good dicking. "Better?" I murmured. Nikita nodded. My rod kept up steady, moderately powerful penetrations. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" Trick question. "No," she purred. "I like; this is wonderful; I thought you would be different." She was one happy camper. She had anticipated a domination play. "I'd only be rough with you if that's what you wanted," I pressed her legs farther down so that are faces were very close. "Mmm; are you ever going to stop seeing those other girls?" she poised. She was no longer angry. Perfect boyfriend plus fantastic intercourse. I'm always doing stuff that makes women act in bizarre and unexpected (to them) ways. Won't ever do anal? You'll be ambushing me in the tub and working that ass down my pole inside of two weeks. Trust me. Odette hooking up with Buffy? Been down that road before. "I've only got 70 days left, Nikita," I groaned. "They are going to force me to put out at work." "I might as well try to make love to the women I care for," I told her. No, they weren't going to make me put out at work unless I made the full 84, or was relocated. Lie baby, lie. "I'll make sure you live more than those 70 days," Nikita passionately assured me. Now she was applying some pushbacks to meet my thrusts. "Why are you so nice to me?" I began taking deeper breaths. Please don't say 'I love you'. "No one should have to face your enemies alone," she gave up. Her left hand slithered down and began to tenderly work on her stiff button. I matched it, despite the somewhat awkward placement. My hand rested on hers, developing a synergy and allowing me to get a feel how she liked her clitoral stimulation. Nikita had barely started screeching out her climax when the door swung open. "You Bastard!" Libra screamed at me. To be that fast, she either teleported, or had been eavesdropping at the door. She stormed away, still yelling at the top of her lungs. It was times like this that Timothy appreciated what I told him when I first looked the place over. No locks on the interior doors? No problem. The women would cause less damage if all they had to do was break down the exterior door to get at me. He thought I was a joker. I am, but I wasn't joking about that. Kicking open a door is hard on the door sills. They are far more likely to give way then the door is to splinter, or the lock is to break. There have been a great many women who have busted through all kinds of portals to get at me with vengeance, pain and agony on their mind; my pain and agony if there was any doubt. "Ah, ah, ah; that was mind-blowing, Cáel," Nikita lilted. "Next time; " "Yes?" I soaked up her aroma. "Can we not make this a domestic disturbance case?" she giggled. "Is that an appeal for some real privacy, or stadium seating?" I teased. "You are a meanie!" she giggled gleefully. Who calls an adult a meanie? There was only one proper reaction to such a denigrating insult. I helped her take off the rest of her clothes and fucked Nikita two more times. Nikita and I were exhausted, our bodies intertwined, sweaty, and sated. Odette poked her head in. "Is it okay for us to join in yet?" Odette asked. "No," Nikita moaned. "Not yet," I corrected. I compensate having no control over my willy, by having limited control over every poon tang I interact with. I'm not sure how that works, but it does. Case in point: "I am not engaging in group sex, or sleeping with a girl," Nikita murmured. "Well, can they sleep in our bed tonight? They have nowhere else to go," I reasoned. "Um," she bit her lower lip. "Okay." Ta-da! I didn't argue with Nikita, or challenge/dare her. I said 'our bed' which put her, theoretically, on top of my female acquaintance hierarchy. Truth? Nah. I never had enough women hanging around together to ever have the time to figure that out. Nikita was going to be in bed with me and two other sexual active women. Buffy alone was a morality hazard. Odette was spunky. Nikita was armed with three relationships at best; her mom was a cop after all, so dating had to be fun before college. Finally, there was me; the lowest of the low. If cads had a shred of reverence, they worshipped an idol with my face on it. To my credit (don't laugh), I wasn't forcing Nikita to do anything, only making her do things she'd have never thought she'd do before she met me. We cleaned up then joined the others. The start was awkward. I changed the conversation to things girly: guns. I have a twisted life. Odette knew nothing; pure law-abiding citizen. I was an amateur gunslinger who picked up firearms to romance a girl, or three. Niki grew up around guns and the people who used them; the police. Her area of expertise was handguns and shotguns. She had little experience with rifles. Buffy had gotten a later start in life, but played 'radical catchup' since then. While not going into details, Buffy was very engaging. Timothy had no formal training yet had somehow managed to acquire a familiarity over his misspent life. He had even been paid in an AR-14 once. He had, of course, turned it over to the cops; but couldn't remember which cop, or precinct, when prodded by Nikita. We broke for Korean takeout. There was a problem with the order. Niki, Buffy, and I prepared to head out when Timothy developed a situation in the bathroom. Us guys tried to handle it. We were hopeless. Finally, Nikita intervened and shooed us out to the living room. Timothy 'found' some tools and gave them to Buffy to give to Nikita. Us guys had been exiled, after all. The second Buffy went into the bathroom, I slipped out the door quietly. Odette gave me a 'thumbs up' then snuck off to my bedroom. Bedroom noises commenced. The take-out issue was that my cute Korean delivery babe was missing me. Despite the plethora of sex coming my way, I discovered I missed her too. Later. "Do you find it amusing to not trust us in the least?" Nikita stared at me. I would have felt better if Timothy wasn't bound up with extension cords and his mouth covered with duct tape and trussed up on the floor. Odette was cowering in the far corner of the sofa. "I apologize," I extended my armload of food. "Old habits die hard." "You hurt our feelings," Buffy frowned. Still freaked out by that. Why wasn't someone hitting me? Seriously, there are tons of throw-able things in the apartment plus they both had guns. "If I sneak out, you two don't have to deal with the conflict of me wanting sex with different women," I pleaded. "This has nothing to do with how fantastic the sex with all of you is. It is that I'm so used to disappointing women then running for my life, the option of gaining anything approaching permission isn't something I know how to handle," I explained. "What makes you think we'd ever give you permission to cheat?" Buffy smirked. Ah, the joys of a blossoming four-way. Nikita? Not going to sleep with another woman? Hell, three hours in and she was already dividing up my sex-time with my other bed-buddies. My only worry was Niki would retell this to her Mom, the Police Desk Sergeant. I wasn't worried she'd hurt me. I was worried 'Mom' would toss me in jail. I'm a very pretty man and I doubt I'd do well in an all-male environment. Sure, there would be female corrections officers. That's not a good thing. I'm incredibly horny and I could see 'don't ask, don't talk back' in my future. "Listen, both of you," I got feisty. "If I want this level of aggravation, I'll go back to work and slap Elsa." "Also, why is Odette cowering on the sofa? She didn't do anything wrong," I declared. "She went into your bedroom, shut your door, and made all kinds of sexy noises. It took us ten minutes to realize we weren't hearing you,"

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