Podcasts about your mother

TalkSports HR1 7.24.25 - Would You Lose Your Eye for Your Mother? by Fanrun Radio

In today's Moments episode, comedian Tim Dillon offers his candid perspective on how different generations approach life and work. From Gen Z's growing rejection of traditional success, to his sharp critique of fame, Dillon cuts through the contradictions that shape today's culture. Tim Dillon is a comedian, actor, and host of The Tim Dillon Show podcast, known for his unapologetic takes on culture and politics. In 2022, he released his first Netflix special, Tim Dillon: A Real Hero, followed by I'm Your Mother in 2025.  Listen to the full episode here! Spotify: https://g2ul0.app.link/2hFDeAJJ4Ub Apple: https://g2ul0.app.link/rOBImYPJ4Ub Watch the episodes on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/%20TheDiaryOfACEO/videos Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Writer, humorist, and Rochester creative force Taylor Terrance joins Nick and Christine for a terrific and heartfelt deep dive into storytelling, performance, and building community through comedy. Known for her column Lunatics Lounge in every issue of (585) magazine, Taylor opens up about her journey from childhood creative writer to comedy performer at Second City Chicago and beyond. Taylor also shares insights on live readings, playwriting, column writing, and the creative power of visual storytelling. From producing "Listen to Your Mother" to publishing humorous essays, she brings a sharp wit and warm heart to everything she does which makes us in the 585 laugh, think, and connect.Connect with Taylor Terrance:Instagram: www.instagram.com/taylor_t_rantsWebsite: 585mag.com/magazine_author/taylor-terranceAbout Our Terrific Guest:Taylor Terrance is a writer and humorist whose voice is both bold and relatable. A regular contributor to (585) magazine through her widely beloved column Lunatics Lounge, she explores the humorous, awkward, and poignant moments of everyday life. Taylor is a graduate of the comedy writing program at Second City Chicago and has performed in sketch shows and storytelling events like Listen to Your Mother and Rochester Spoken Word.More About That Sounds Terrific in the 585 – Hosts Nick Koziol & Christine GreenFor more information on That Sounds Terrific in the 585, visit our website at That Sounds Terrific and be sure to follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. If you or someone you know is doing something terrific in the 585 area and should be featured on our show, email us at thatsoundsterrific@gmail.com.Special Thanks To Our Key Supporters585 Magazine and their team for their support with the That Sounds Terrific in the 585 podcast. Be sure to become a subscriber of this terrific magazine - learn more at https://585mag.comThank you to Morgan Brown and Meadow Viscuso, our terrific intern duo from SUNY Fredonia for all their hard work and for lending their voices and music to the Intro and Outro of the That Sounds Terrific in the 585!

SCRIPTURE: Exodus 20:12 & 1 Peter 2:17 (ESV)   The post Honour Your Father and Your Mother first appeared on Ang Mo Kio Methodist Church.

Swanner and Judd talk about: Big Mouth; Top Chef; Tom Dillon: Hot Wing/I'm Your Mother; Stick; Bad Thoughts; Orville Peck; Bad Thoughts; The Tony's and more! Left Click To Listen, Right Click Here To Download

In this episode of Parenting is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg welcomes Deborah Goldstein, co-host of the hit kids' podcast The Big Fib and producer of the nationwide storytelling series Listen to Your Mother. Deborah shares what it's like raising two "man children" with her wife in a North Jersey suburb full of fellow Brooklyn expats, where being a cis, lesbian, monogamous couple is almost boring by local standards. The conversation spans everything from the surprising struggles of parenting highly responsible college kids (who could maybe stand to experiment a little) to the challenges of growing up with parents who withheld unconditional love. Deborah recounts her and her wife's multi-continent, multi-wedding path to parenthood—including importing donor sperm from the U.S. to London when local clinics weren't quite up to speed on queer family building. She and Ophira also unpack tracking your kids by phone, the shocking lack of time college students actually spend in class, and how kids on The Big Fib often have a better radar for truth than many adults. This episode is equal parts hilarious parenting chaos and refreshing perspective on raising kids in a rapidly changing world.

QFF: Quick Fire Friday – Your 20-Minute Growth Powerhouse!   Welcome to Quick Fire Friday, the Grow A Small Business podcast series that is designed to deliver simple, focused and actionable insights and key takeaways in less than 20 minutes a week.   Every Friday, we bring you business owners and experts who share their top strategies for growing yourself, your team and your small business. Get ready for a dose of inspiration, one action you can implement and quotable quotes that will stick with you long after the episode ends!   In this episode of Quick Fire Friday, host Amanda Jones interviews Shane Fell shares his incredible journey from the corporate world of luxury cars to becoming the driving force behind Fellini, Hobart's renowned Italian restaurant. With a passion for hospitality, Shane emphasizes the importance of trust, teamwork, and creating WOW experiences that leave lasting impressions. He discusses his leadership approach, focusing on empowering staff, fostering innovation, and building a people-first culture. Shane's insights into crafting unforgettable dining experiences showcase his commitment to excellence and adaptability. From customer connections to operational precision, Shane's story inspires business owners to pursue growth through passion and resilience. Other Resources:    “Unreasonable Hospitality: The Remarkable Power of Giving People More Than They Expect”, by Will Guidara The 10X Rule: The Only Difference Between Success and Failure by Grant Cardone 7 Tenets of Taxi Terry: How Every Employee Can Create and Deliver the Ultimate Customer Experience by Scott McKain Would You Do That to Your Mother?: The "Make Mom Proud" Standard for How to Treat Your Customers by Jeanne Bliss Atomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones by James Clear Key Takeaways for Small Business Owners: Passion Drives Success: Pursue what you love, as passion fuels energy and commitment in both business and personal life.   Trust Builds Culture: Trust is the foundation of a strong team and an exceptional customer experience. Without trust, culture deteriorates.   Empower Your Team: Value your staff by giving them a voice, encouraging innovation, and fostering an environment where they feel appreciated. Our hero crafts outstanding reviews following the experience of listening to our special guests. Are you the one we've been waiting for?   Customer Experience Matters: Success lies in crafting memorable experiences by focusing on relationships, first impressions, and understanding customer needs.   Adaptability is Key: Stay open to change and embrace new technologies or ideas to remain relevant and competitive in your industry.   Invest in Self-Growth: Continuously learn and grow through books, audio, and personal discipline to achieve goals and inspire others. One action small business owners can take: According to Shane Fell, one action a small business owner should take is to set clear non-negotiables for their operations, such as service quality and team behavior. Regularly reviewing these standards with the team ensures consistency and drives growth. Do you have 2 minutes every Friday? Sign up to the Weekly Leadership Email. It's free and we can help you to maximize your time. Enjoyed the podcast? Please leave a review on iTunes or your preferred platform. Your feedback helps more small business owners discover our podcast and embark on their business growth journey.

Colocamos em modo Cruise controle para assistirmos ao último filme desta saga cheia de ação, adrenalina e suspense. Neste episódio falamos de notícias, o que andamos a ver, fazemos a review do filme 'Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning' e terminamos com spoilers.NOTÍCIASLázaro fala sobre algumas novidades da Marvel (URL);Luís fala sobre os vencedores do festival de Cannes (URL);Erick fala sobre um filme biopic sobre Michael-Jackson (URL), mais uma adaptação de um videojogo (URL) e uma adição de casting para o filme 'Toy Story 5' (URL).O QUE ANDAMOS A VER?LázaroFountain of Youth (2025)Lilo & Stitch (2025)Cobra Kai (6ª Temporada)LuisExterritorial (2025)The Accountant (2016)Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One (2023)ErickTim Dillon: I'm Your Mother (2025)Sneakers (1992)The Studio (1ª Temporada)Para a semana vamos fazer review do filme 'Karate Kid: Legends'.Até lá, bons filmes.**Música Original produzida por António Capelo (https://capelo.me)Sigam-nos em:https://twitter.com/peliculapodcasthttps://instagram.com/peliculapodcasthttps://facebook.com/peliculapodcast

Delivered by Vivian from the Parish of Saint Thomas the Apostle in the Archdiocese of Jakarta, Indonesia. Acts of the Apostles 16: 11-15; Rs psalm 149: 1-2.3-4.5-6a.9b; John 15: 26 - 16: 4a.THE SECRET OF A HELPER The title for our meditation today is:The Secret of a Helper. Anyone of us who is a helper to the neighbors, he orshe has all the freedom to help, do good and make sacrifice according to his orher abilities. That help can be big, medium or small either in quantity orquality. Often the helps are offered by those who do not know the concernedreceivers. The givers also do not want to be known. The offerings that reachthe supposed receivers can be considered as gifts. Therefore the secret of ahelp or offering is in the person of the helper.  A good helper is like a teenager namedBerto. At school he is known as a model because he likes to help his fellowstudents. He is not ashamed of picking up garbages left by his friends who makefloor and yard dirty. He shares his learning tools with the friends who forgetto bring with them. He shares his own water and food with the friends who don'thave. He is eager to accompany and tell stories to the friends who are sick. Hehelps anyone without feeling bored and tired. The helpers like Berto do havemotivation, intention, and belief that are typical to every one of them. Eachhas type and way of help which is different from the other. The way and qualityof giving help depend much on each helper. Those who receive helps do not needto preocupy or to imagine about the form and content of help. Lydia in thefirst reading from the Acts of the Apostles offered all the logistics to Pauland compaions. This is what we call “the secret of the helper”, which is inthis context Lydia. Paul and Silas did not have to bother on the contents ofthe helper's kindness. This is what we mean by the secret ofa helper. Do we ever know the secret of God's will to help us? We never know.The Holy Spirit sent to us by Jesus Christ who comes out of the Father, also hasall His secret. Jesus reveals a sort of clue by saying that the messenger is anAdvocate and Defender. Let it be God's will to help. We have no authority toimpose our desires on the Holy Spirit. What is clear is that God's will is forour goodness and salvation. Anyone of us who has intention, will,plan and nature to help, just be convinced that, the basic secret of a goodhelper is to do what is appropriate, positive, healthy and sincere of bringinggoodness and salvation to those who receive help. A good helper never does anyevil  both in ways and goals to others. Thisis not a help, but a coercion that will plunge those helped into trouble and danger.Let's pray. In the name of theFather ... O Lord Jesus, help us always to imitate yourself in helping others,and may we be open to all the teachings of your Holy Spirit. May we also followthe footsteps of  Your Mother, the VirginMary who is also for us a great helper. Hail Mary full of grace ... In the nameof the Father ...

Kevin McKay preaches "Who's Your Mother" from Galatians 4:21-31, in this Sunday morning gathering of Grace Harbor Church.

Honor Your Father and Your Mother, with Pete Chiofalo by Keller, Texas

Sins (Part 17) - Listen to Your Mother! | Proverbs 1:8; 23:22-25 | 11 May 2025 - Sunday Evening | Dr. Brad Weniger, Pastor

From mommy bloggers and hyper-organized TikTok moms, to feminist manifestos on the value of domestic labour, motherhood is a hot topic. And in her new book, "Story of Your Mother," – partially written directly to her first-born son – Chantal Braganza looks for fresh ways to define the life-altering experience, both intellectually and very personally. She's also a senior editor at Chatelaine Magazine.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Host Jason Blitman sits down with bestselling author Fredrik Backman (My Friends) to discuss his love of films, why he could win a Taylor Swift lyric competition, and the exact moment he recalls where his humor originated. Fredrik shares why he doesn't call himself an "author," how he's struggled with confidence, and much more. Jason is then joined by Guest Gay Reader Erika J. Simpson (This is Your Mother), who discusses her recent reading, while Jason explains why experiencing her memoir was particularly unique.Fredrik Backman is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Man Called Ove, My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry, Britt-Marie Was Here, Beartown, Us Against You, Anxious People, The Winners, My Friends, as well as two novellas and one work of nonfiction. His books are published in more than forty countries. He lives in Stockholm, Sweden, with his wife and two children. Connect with him on Facebook and X @BackmanLand and on Instagram @Backmansk.Erika J. Simpson is a Southern girl living in Denver, Colorado, with her partner and their black cat. She holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of Kentucky and is the recipient of the 2021 MFA Award in Nonfiction. Her essay “If You Ever Find Yourself” was published in Roxane Gay's The Audacity and featured in Best American Essays 2022, edited by Alexander Chee. This Is Your Mother is her debut memoir, and she also writes fiction for the page and screen.SUBSTACK!https://gaysreading.substack.com/ BOOK CLUB!Use code GAYSREADING at checkout to get first book for only $4 + free shipping! Restrictions apply.http://aardvarkbookclub.com WATCH!https://youtube.com/@gaysreading FOLLOW!Instagram: @gaysreading | @jasonblitmanBluesky: @gaysreading | @jasonblitmanCONTACT!hello@gaysreading.com

Michelle Obama served as the First Lady of the United States, entering the White House alongside Barack Obama. In this candid conversation, she joins Steven with her brother Craig Robinson, a former college basketball coach turned executive, to open up about everything from Trump's inauguration to marriage challenges, grief, and rediscovering her purpose. Widely regarded as one of today's most influential voices on leadership, identity, and social progress, Michelle offers a rare, intimate look at her personal journey. Together, they discuss: How their parents instilled empathy, discipline, and resilience growing up amid racial tension. Michelle's journey through elite schools and corporate law, driven by a need to tick society's boxes. The evolution of Michelle and Barack's relationship, from colleagues to lifelong partners. Fertility struggles, parenting tips, and what it really takes to sustain a long-term marriage. Navigating life in the White House, grief, personal boundaries, and rediscovering her true calling. 00:00 Intro 02:11 Michelle and Craig's Childhood 04:48 Values Learned from Their Parents 08:45 Michelle Skipping Second Grade 12:16 The Role of Race in Their Childhood 15:19 What "White Flight" Means 17:01 Coping with Racism 20:55 Overcoming Being Underestimated 26:33 Michelle's Search for Identity 30:20 Meeting Barack 31:59 Introducing Barack to the Family 33:48 Why Michelle Initially Rejected Barack 37:28 Michelle's Career Change: Pursuing Joy 40:52 Relationship with Barack 44:56 Going to Counseling with Barack 49:34 Pregnancy Struggles 56:27 Hardest Moments in Their Marriage 57:31 Barack Obama Runs for Public Office 01:03:28 What I Should Have Said to Barack 01:07:11 Being the First Black First Lady and Facing Scrutiny 01:14:09 Reflections on a Sad Time 01:15:17 Remembering Your Mother 01:16:53 The Death of Your Mother 01:18:36 Processing the Grief 01:20:41 Not Attending Trump's Inauguration Listen to Michelle & Craig's new podcast IMO: ⁠https://bit.ly/3YnxIUg⁠ Follow Michelle: Instagram - https://bit.ly/3Ymxs7W  Twitter - https://bit.ly/4cYXiVC  Follow Craig: Instagram - https://bit.ly/4lThkVB  Twitter - https://bit.ly/4lTGJ1f  You can purchase Michelle's book, ‘Overcoming: A Workbook', here: https://amzn.to/4jTqcsi (UK) / https://amzn.to/3SbbelM (US)  100 CEOs: Ready to think like a CEO? Gain access to the 100 CEOs newsletter here: ⁠⁠https://bit.ly/100-ceos-megaphone⁠ The 1% Diary is back - limited time only: https://bit.ly/1-Diary-Megaphone-ad-r…  The Diary Of A CEO Conversation Cards (Second Edition): https://g2ul0.app.link/f31dsUttKKb  Get email updates: ⁠https://bit.ly/diary-of-a-ceo-yt⁠  Follow Steven: https://g2ul0.app.link/gnGqL4IsKKb  Sponsors: Airalo -  https://try.airalo.com/TheDiaryOfACEO with code DOAC3Vivobarefoot - https://vivobarefoot.com/DOAC with code DIARY20 for 20% off Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

WHATSAPP CCCC https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029Vb3GogHKGGGA0TR0493U IG CCCC https://www.instagram.com/comicicheconsiglianocomici?igsh=MXc4anFkbThiaXloZw==TIM DILLON I'm Your Mother https://www.netflix.com/title/81992010JOAN RIVERS Comebackshttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9SStRvGg8I

Temas da Semana: - Andor s02 (11:20) - Your Friends and Neighbors (16:00) - Tim Dillon I'm Your Mother (20:00) - The Return (27:30)

Tim Dillon returns to promote his Netflix special "I'm Your Mother." He gets Kevin Spacey to act with him in the trailer for the special. Tim teaches the group about the "Jesus nut" which is the main thing holding a helicopter together. A lawyer calls in to shed light on whether you can shot a home intruder in the state of New York. They talk about dangerous waterpark rides because Bobby got injured at Action Park. Tim and Jay were in a play called "Ha! The Musical" and they reminisce about their friend Michelle who wrote and directed it. *To hear the full show to go www.siriusxm.com/bonfire to learn more FOLLOW THE CREW ON SOCIAL MEDIA: @thebonfiresxm @louisjohnson @christinemevans @bigjayoakerson @robertkellylive @louwitzkee @jjbwolfSubscribe to SiriusXM Podcasts+ to listen to new episodes of The Bonfire ad-free and a whole week early.  Start a free trial now on Apple Podcasts or by visiting siriusxm.com/podcastsplus.

Tim Dillon is a stand-up comic, actor, and host of "The Tim Dillon Show" podcast. Look for his new comedy special, "Tim Dillon: I'm Your Mother," now streaming on Netflix. www.netflix.com/title/81992010 www.timdilloncomedy.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Johnny Mac discusses Kevin Spacey's revival of his House of Cards character, Frank Underwood, to promote Tim Dillon's new Netflix comedy special, 'I'm Your Mother.' Johnny places it in the top tier of 2025 comedy specials so far, and highlights other comedy news including the Just for Laughs festival, a roast at WrestleMania featuring Gabriel Iglesias, and various comedian sightings and upcoming shows. He also covers recent controversies involving comedian Bill Maher and Kunal Kamra, and gives a brief review of Rami Youssef's new Amazon Prime animated series, 'Happy Family USA.' 00:18 Kevin Spacey's Frank Underwood Revival03:22 Tim Dillon's Comedy Special Review04:58 Comedy News and Festival Updates05:52 Celebrity Gossip and Show Announcements09:12 Rami Yusef's New Animated Series13:18 Bill Maher and Donald Trump Controversy14:31 Kunal Kamra's Legal TroublesUnlock an ad-free podcast experience with Caloroga Shark Media! Get all our shows on any player you love, hassle free! For Apple users, hit the banner on your Apple podcasts app which says UNITERRUPTED LISTENING. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.com/plus. No plug-ins needed!  You also get 20+ other shows on the network ad-free!    This podcast supports Podcasting 2.0 if you'd like to support the show via value for value and stream some sats! https://linktr.ee/dailycomedynews Contact John at john@thesharkdeck dot com  John's free substack about the media:  Media Thoughts  is mcdpod.substack.com DCN on Threads: https://www.threads.net/@dailycomedynews You can also support the show at www.buymeacoffee.com/dailycomedynews Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/daily-comedy-news--4522158/support.

Comedian, podcaster and commentator Tim Dillon's new Netflix series 'Tim Dillon: I'm Your Mother' has been billed by Outkick as "must-watch offensive comedy that woke losers will hate." He's also been quick to cut down politicians on both sides with his razor-sharp words. Piers Morgan invites him on Uncensored to discuss comedy (and why President Trump is so hilarious), cancel culture, his friendship with RFK Jr, his stance on Israel and Hamas and much, much more. Uncensored is proudly independent and supported by: VanMan: Go to https://www.Vanman.shop/discount/PIERS and save 10% off your first purchase. American Hartford Gold: Protect your wealth with precious metals! Call American Hartford Gold today & get up to $15,000 in free silver on your 1st order! Call 866-692-2474 or Text PIERS to 65532, or Click the link below: https://offers.americanhartfordgold.com/piers-morgan/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week Tim Dillon joins us at the table! Good news, he has an opinion on everything: NY vs LA, the stock market crash, Joe Rogen's influence on the election, and much more. Enjoy! Check out Tim's new Netflix special on 4/15, "I'm Your Mother". ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 0:00:00 Intro 0:00:32 Patreon 0:01:22 New York vs LA 0:05:33 Stock Market Crash, Tariffs, & Real Estate 0:12:15 Bread & The Bronx Breakfast 0:19:54 RFK Jr. 0:24:55 Podcaster's influence on the election 0:28:27 JD Vance on Tim's podcast 0:31:55 Covering politics on Tim Dillon podcast 0:35:55 Silly questions 0:40:05 Tim's new special 0:43:20 Uncomfortable moment 0:44:44 Back to silly questions 0:49:50 Anxiety attacks 0:51:58 Future of Hollywood 0:56:38 Post covid life and bounce back 1:01:10 Goodbyes ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tom Papa is a celebrated stand-up comedian with over 20 years in the industry. Watch Tom's new special "Home Free" out NOW on Netflix! Patreon - Patreon.com/breakingbreadwithtompapa Radio, Podcasts and more - https://linktr.ee/tompapa/ Website - http://tompapa.com/ Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/tompapa Tiktok - https://www.tiktok.com/@tompapa Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/comediantompapa Twitter - https://www.twitter.com/tompapa #tompapa #breakingbread #comedy #standup #standupcomedy #bread #timdillon #rfkjr

Tim discusses the recent helicopter crash in the Hudson, why summer vacations are over, RFK's pledge to find the cause of autism by September, the looming threat of war with Iran, young people taking “mini-retirements”, and the importance of being a good guest in another country.  -Tim's new Netflix special "I'm Your Mother" comes out on Tuesday, April 15th. Click the link below to set a reminder on Netflix so you can watch when it premieres!

Megyn Kelly is joined by legal experts Arthur Aidala and Mark Eiglarsh for Kelly's Court to discuss Harvey Weinstein's upcoming trial, the challenge of seating an impartial jury, Aidala's ideas for his defense of Weinstein including possibly calling his client to the stand, the fatal stabbing of a Texas high school football player by another student, the potential self-defense claim, what will likely happen in the trial, Bryan Kohberger's defense strategy, his lawyer floating that an expert will say it was actually two assailants, the latest on Blake Lively's lawsuit against director Justin Baldoni, her claims of being pressured into nudity during childbirth scene, what the actor playing the doctor is revealing now, and more. Then Tim Dillon, whose new Netflix special is "I'm Your Mother," to discuss his very short child acting career, his journey from drug use to sobriety, being raised by Irish Catholics, why Meghan Markle is one of America's greatest con artists, her launch of overpriced everyday products, her tone-deaf new podcast about female founders, Gavin Newsom's failed podcast, his opportunistic political strategy lacking actual beliefs, how Tim became friends with RFK Jr. and Cheryl Hines, his support for Trump's stance on bringing actual help to the working and middle class, how the political parties have completely switched sides in the last 20 years, the rise of superficial identity politics, and more. Aidala- https://am970theanswer.com/radioshow/the-arthur-aidala-power-hourEiglarsh- https://www.eiglarshlaw.com/Dillon- https://www.instagram.com/timjdillon/ Angel Studios: Become an Angel Guild member today and get 2 free tickets to The King of Kings movie when you become a premium member. Visit https://angel.com/MEGYNLumen: Visit https://lumen.me/MEGYN for 15% OffJacked Up Fitness: Go to https://GetJackedUp.com and use code MK at checkout to save 10% off your entire purchaseFollow The Megyn Kelly Show on all social platforms:YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/MegynKellyTwitter: http://Twitter.com/MegynKellyShowInstagram: http://Instagram.com/MegynKellyShowFacebook: http://Facebook.com/MegynKellyShow Find out more information at: https://www.devilmaycaremedia.com/megynkellyshow

In 2021 Tara and her family got the knock on their door that every parent fears most. In the days that followed they discovered eighteen-year-old Mila's journal and were able to piece together the shocking and devastating chain of events that led to her death. Tara's Instagram and Substack, Slowdown Farmstead, is followed and admired by tens of thousands of people. Tara and her husband raised their three daughters on their beautiful Canadian farm, lovingly tending to and butchering their own livestock in order to nourish their family and community. Deeply acquainted with the cycles of nature, Tara has a perspective on the interconnectedness of life and death that was the daily reality for our ancestors but eludes most modern people. But that did not prepare her for what could happen when a drug that is now bred to be as strong as any pharmaceutical- and which is often misunderstood as being a benign herbal medicine- snuck its way into her daughter's life at a vulnerable time and completely rewired her brain in a matter of months. It is our hope that sharing Mila's story will make more people aware of the increasingly common psychosis that is a side effect of the new high-THC strains of cannabis on the market, and especially of its dangers for the developing teenage brain. Please read the article linked below for more. How Weed Became the New OxyContin: Big Pharma and Big Tobacco Are Helping Market High-Potency, Psychosis-Inducing THC Products as Your Mother's ‘Medical Marijuana' Patreon bonus conversation- What We Want Our Daughter To Know: women, restriction, chronic illness & more on Tara's metabolic journey Learn more about Tara's book Radiance of the Ordinary Slowdown Farmstead on Substack and Instagram Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome Take our fun quiz Which Healing Herb Matches Your Energy? My website MythicMedicine.love  Mythic Medicine on Instagram Medicine Stories Facebook group Music by Mariee Siou (from her beautiful song Wild Eyes)

Today we will reflect on John 19:25-30, Here is Your Son, Here is Your Mother. Even while on the cross, Jesus is thinking of others. We've seen him ask for forgiveness for us, we've seen his grace to the criminal, and now we see his concern for his mother. As the oldest son, Jesus is responsible for the well-being of his mother. He places Mary in the care of the beloved disciple, John. Jesus has a larger view of family, seeing it as a covenant community that hears God's word and puts it into practice. Family is about being part of a community of people committed to following Jesus and becoming more Christ-like.

The Shape of Love: Honor Your Father and Your Mother by LaGrave Church

Cáel's second vacation with Aya and friends.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Loving your enemy is easy. You know precisely where the two of you standJust in case anyone cares, I do not hate China or the Chinese People. As a Global Power, the PRC is fair game as a great antagonist. Not only do they have, as of 2015, the world's largest economy, largest population and a truly global Diaspora, they also have a rather totalitarian governance system that enables them to devote scary levels of resources to any endeavor they set their minds to.I usually paint all governments to be entities capable of great good (rarely achieved) and great evil (because it makes such enticing fiction). In my stories, it often falls to the people within those institutions to make judgment calls on what is the right thing to do. In my final analysis, there are no 'Evil' governments, just evil people who use the system to get what they want(Right where we left off)"Aya," I spoke to her when she'd finished up by giving Mu a strong dose of a pain killer, "Now go back to the galley and find the nice medic-lady there. She has a bottle filled with some of those kick-ass sedatives. Inject everyone else but me, you, Zhen here and Mu, Mu's had enough drugs for one day.""Okay," she popped up. She turned fearlessly to face her former tormentors and jailors."I had them all swear an oath to Ishara to not kill, harm, or restrain you in any manner, so have fun hunting them down. You've got about thirty minutes.""Is Dot with us right now?" she gave me a bone-tired smile. I nodded. "This is going to be fun," she shouted and off she went.'I'll be by her side', Dot whispered to me. She rose forth from the seat within me and followed Aya out into Seven Pillars Hell. Technically, I believed it was the Diyu of the Fiendish Child. Those malicious bastards suffered every accident, misfortune, and nearly-impossible odds malfunction in the process of being subdued by a 9 year old Amazon.Four of them died in the process of trying to kill her, when stopping her became obviously impossible. Two had their guns blow up when they tried to shoot her, dismembering their hands and wrists. One guy was strangled in his emergency oxygen supply mask. The last guy lunged forward, slipped on a cup and broke his neck when his head was caught in a folded armrest.Twenty-eight nerve wracking minutes later."All done," she gave me an exhausted yet triumphant chirp. "Should I strap Mr. Mu into a chair? He's passed out.""Zhen, buckle your brother into a chair and hurry back. I'll hold us steady until you get back."Remember, I had only the use of my left hand. My right had to stay on the dagger to keep things powered up."Buckle-up after you've gotten Duan Mu secured, Aya. That's his proper name.""I know that. I was trying to keep them irritated so they would act irrationally. You taught me that," Aya bathed me in her sinister ways and means.Finally, it was down to me and Zhen. "Do you think we will succeed, Cáel Wakko Ishara?" "I'm giving it my best shot." "The little girl was right," Zhen groaned. "She told us we'd regret not killing you in New York when we had the chance. I thought she was being an annoying spoiled brat. I was wrong." Pause. "I know you have no reason to answer me truthfully, but when we, the rest of us, die, could you make sure my brother's body is returned to my father so that he can join our ancestors in the family grave?" "Why do you think I would lie to you now that we are alone?" That was a loaded question. I did the majority of my lying when I was alone with a woman. "I, will you give me your Oath, in your Goddess's name?" "Nope. My Goddess has pretty much been exhausted by your boys trying to break their vows to me and Aya. I'll tell you what I will do, " "What?" "Show me your tits and I'll promise to do my best." "What? You want to see me naked?" she grew indignant. "No!" It was her being a vaginal virgin (I knew the type ~ good oral technique and bed play, but no 'go-uppy' the cunt, or ass) and me not being Han Chinese, therefore being a 'Stinky Barbarian'. "Listen, I've never flown a commercial jet before and neither have you. Odds are we are both going to be dead in the next ten minutes. After all the hell you have put me through, can you at least give me some fucking inspiration. No one will ever know. Besides, imagining the perfect swell of your breast and the smooth tautness of your stomach, well, you are so damn perfect it is distracting!" I protested against the World's grand injustice (me not being Han and thus not worthy of seeing her goodies). "Do you really think we are all about to die?" she studied me. "I'm doing my best, but, yes, I believe we are," I stared deep into her dark brown orbs.'You are despicable,' Ishara chortled. 'I promise you, plant your seed and she will bear you a son.' "Very well, hold onto the controls," she said as she released her joystick. She rolled up her padded (high-tech body-weave) shirt carefully. I was a past master of looking while pretending not too look. Still, "Can I look yet?" I hesitantly questioned. Sure, we were about to slam an Airbus-350 into the Pacific Ocean, or a concrete runway, no lights, in a cyclone, but she was 'working it'. For all she knew, this striptease would be her last living memory. "No." A few seconds passed. "Now?" "No." Oh, her top was just cresting her highly aroused nipples, she had tiny, erect nipples. The smallest I had ever seen, but long, almost like tiny awls. Finally she'd played it out as long as possible. "Okay." "No, wait," I begged. "Let me make sure everything is stable. I want to look at you for as long as I can. This will probably be the last happy moment of my life, so I want to make the most of it." That made her happy. I puttered around for five seconds, then pivoted around to take in her full, topless view. I didn't say anything for the longest time. "Aren't you done yet," she grumbled. "We are about to crash." "Oh, sorry," I turned away. She rolled her top down quickly and we returned to trying to keep the people we loved most in life alive. I sensed as sense of disappointment in her nonetheless."Perfect," I whispered. She caught it. "What did you say? Is something wrong?" she worried, studying her crippled command console for any errors she might have missed. "I said 'perfect'. I knew it, your body is perfect," I confessed. Pause. "Oh, " "Now I have something to live for," I declared. "I will never let you see me naked again. This was a one-time thing!" "That's two things I have to live for then," I countered. "Bringing us in alive and seeing me naked once more?" she had to be sure. "I was going to say 'seeing you naked again' and 'living', but I can see that your priorities make more sense," I conceded. "Ah, you are right, that I am right." Pause. "Good luck." "On seeing you naked again, or surviving our landing." "Let's start out by landing the plane. "And then, Duan Zhen?" "We will see, Cáel Ishara."{9 pm, Tuesday, August 16th ~ 23 Days to go}{aka 2 am Wednesday, Aug. 17th ~ 22 Days to go (Havenstone time)}(The following is in Mandarin until I note otherwise)"What are you doing?" I struggled to keep the panic from my voice."Killing all these alarms," Zhen responded. She was grinding her teeth in frustration and fear. "There is nothing we can do to fix those problems.""My, right rudder, its barely responding," I grunted. This was fly-by-wire, not typical manual control, so my concern was entirely mental, not wanting to miss our turn south into the sole runaway on Johnston Atoll. With the steady degradation of the plane's electronics, we wouldn't make the 360 for another pass.Landing from the southern end of the runway would put the cyclone force winds behind us. There would be no way for the plane's two inexperienced pilots to make that miraculous landing happen. No, we had to approach form the north, into the winds and allow nature to slow us down."On it, I'm good," she confirmed that her co-pilot's systems were still doing their job. "Tell me when we are making our final approach." Zhen, my Seven Pillars of Heaven co-pilot (and designated assassin), couldn't see where we were going. Our avionics had perished earlier in this disaster.Goddess Dot Ishara was communicating with Goddess SzélAnya who was frolicking in this maelstrom; the Draconic Storm Divinity was in her element. Dot was 'in' her element as well ~ her last living mortal descendent (me), if you didn't count all those unborn offspring I'd been contributing to in the past few weeks.'Are you thinking about me, Wakko?' she whispered into my mind. I was Wakko Ishara. I was supposed to be Yakko, but that hadn't worked out. As the 'main girl' in the relationship between me, the leader of her Amazon House, and Yakko Ishara ~ my first Ishara ancestor ~ she earned the slot of Dot (see Warner Bros.) Ishara.One of her earliest gifts to me was to make my mind inviolate to ALL supernatural penetration which was the reason she was bothering to ask about my thoughts and intentions.'Yes,' I thought back. 'I'm worried you are expending too much energy on my behalf, Dot.''Opposed to leaving you alone with SzélAnya? I don't trust her around you. She'd make a little Dragon-offspring/avatar with you if I'm not careful.''If you aren't careful? Don't I get a say in all of this?''No. Trust me, she's clingy and you are more active than a whole temple of Babylon's whores. Her mortal avatar would further bond your two legends together and your Legend is already the prop, placed with House Ishara.' Translation: My Goddess was clingy. After all, she'd meant to say my legend was her 'property'."Flaps!" Zhen yelled at me. "Check your flaps. Mine keep shorting out.""On it," I replied. I'd 'zoned out', so she'd screamed at me to get my attention back on task. Altitude, 1200 meters, which meant flaps at, fuck if I knew."What do I set them, Oh Shit!" I realized I'd forgotten something horribly imperiling."What?" Zhen shot me a furious look."Fuel! We've got to start dumping the fuel!" I screamed."Why?""Fireball, Zhen. If we hit hard, this bitch will barbeque us," I spit the words. "Don't you watch any airplane crash movies?" I added."The Airbus 350 has plenty of, safeguards,""You mean like all the other ones that have failed us in the past half hour?""Opening main tanks #1 and #2," she grumbled. "If we are struck by another lightning bolt we could blow up in mid-air.""Won't happen," I feebly jested. "The Storm Goddess loves me.""Does she love my brother and I?""Nah. She wants you and everyone else on this plane dead, but she's humoring me right now.""Flaps," she reminded me. "Why would she care about you?""Having no other useful skills, I am a truly remarkable lover."Zhen spared me a blistering look."You have seized this aircraft from my brother, me and forty of our best Special Operations Strike Warriors. That does not qualify you as 'unskilled'," she lambasted me."Oh no? You should see a 'real' Amazon in action," I teased her. "I'm just an intern who hasn't yet completed his 84 day trial period." I also worked the flaps."Too much," she snapped. "If we drop below 400 kilometers per hour, these winds will slam us into the Pacific."I was adjusting the flaps appropriately as we began our final roll to the left when a cloud-to-cloud bolt of electricity coursed through our craft. We didn't blow up."Thank you, SzélAnya," I whispered."What?" Zhen worried. Fucking up now would be the end of us all.'Your gratitude is overdue, Cáel,' SzélAnya slipped her murmur into the crashing thunder and another lash of raw, natural fury. 'We will talk later.'"I thought you said she loves you.""Umm, did I forget to mention I told her I was going out for pizza and never called her back?""That makes no sense," Zhen glared at me briefly. I was gifted with a visual of our plane in perspective to the runway. Yay, five meter waves were smashing into the atoll. I adjusted our yaw to the right."We are three kilometers out," I advised her."Flaps, spoilers," I went over my limited Alal-knowledge. This stuff worked on a piston driven commercial liner and it was the only flight data I had."Landing gear," Zhen responded. She had to throttle up a little because all that drag was cutting into our speed.'You are being blown too far to the east,' SzélAnya advised. I did the best I could."What are you doing?" Zhen was starting to sweat."Responding to divine intervention.""I, I see it!" Zhen's panic turned to exultation as she could finally make out the pale concrete runway surrounded by the angry sea.Too disasters hit us simultaneously."The left landing gear is not fully deployed," Zhen cautioned me."We are coming in too fast anyway," I dryly noted. The Goddess had brought me in on target, but she knew nothing about aircraft aeronautics.The Airbus came down too hard, too fast and our left landing gear snapped on impact. Sarrat Irkalli's parting gift was decay. Every design weak point gave in. The front fuselage broke apart, my hand on the dagger slipped and the power died. The front 25% of the plane spun off to the west while the remainder shot down the runway and off the southern end of the island.Sadly we went off into the lagoon between the western side and the barrier reef. In a delayed bit of good fortune, our careening section went head to head against a massive storm surge."Go!" I screamed at Zhen.She snatched up her Jian that she had used to pin the undead necromancer Tsu. I was right behind her, though I did stop to retrieve Sarrat Irkalli's dagger and pluck the two bone reliquaries from his neck before following Zhen's tight, athletic buns out of the cockpit and toward Aya. My diminutive better half was still in her seatbelt and clutching the medical bag to her chest.(English) "Cáel, I think we are sinking," she noted with a twinge of concern and more courage than I felt like utilizing. As Zhen was rescuing her brother the enormity of my mistake sunk in. All the Seven Pillars people were unconscious thus unable to save themselves from drowning. Aya's survival came first. I'd worried about my 'would-be executioners' later.I swept up Aya so fast it took me a second to realize she was poking me. She had retrieved the trinkets Felix had given Mu, our phone cards, my Dot-treats and my Amazon blade. I quickly strapped the blade to my arm. The water was rushing in through the severed back section.I turned to see Zhen struggling with her brother. Her look said it all. She expected them both to die. She wouldn't abandon him to save herself and the waves were too rough to make it with him."Get as far as you can," I shouted to her over the typhoon strength winds. "I'll come back for you."Her face expressed how little faith she put in my promise. Zhen had no choice left to her. I cut off two lengths of seat-belt to give Aya a harness to wrap over my shoulder and opposite underarm. I used the second piece to create her harness I linked with my own. {Back to English as the primary language}"He'll come back for you," Aya tried to assure Zhen while I worked."Aya, take a deep breath then expel it," I advised. The second she did I dove into the water. I had never attempted to swim in water this nasty, but I had been dumped into a white water rapids before. That was the best I had.Somehow in the madness, I pointed myself in the right direction. Once more, the storm came to my rescue. Two monster waves picked us up and pushed us toward the edge of the runway.'Go to the north end of the island,' Ishara told me. There is a building there that will shelter you, and Cáel, I must leave now. Don't do it.''I can't not try,' I replied. 'Can you help Aya?' I gave one last appeal. No reply. I twisted southward to locate the next monster wave. My precious cargo pressed tightly to my upper torso, I flipped over so that my feet were facing toward the onrushing runway. I'm not as dumb as I look, or sound.I bent my knees in the same way they instruct you when you go cliff diving. Up we went. I pulled Aya and I as deep into the water as possible, up, up, crest and then down-down-down. My bare right foot hit something jagged and sharp. I'd worry about bleeding later. The momentum of that contact tried to tilt me head-first, but I resisted.My left foot slapped down on a hard, smooth, granular surface, the sea wall. Now I swam backwards with my free arm while I raced to get my right foot back under me. My body ended up surging forward, yet I was in control of my movements once more. I rolled with the impact, taking the brunt to my left shoulder while shielding Aya with my right. Three rolls and I was on my feet again."Aya!" I beseeched my companion."That was fun," she yelled back over the hurricane force winds. "Let's try to do this next year," the rest was lost. I kept staggering forward in about a foot of water that the storm had flooded over the land. I looked behind me.The next wave was unfriendly. The one behind that one appeared to be a lot like what I imagined a Berlin Wall-sized tombstone would look like. I ran. I survived the first wave then gave Aya a cautionary squeeze. I felt her tiny lungs inflate, soak up the salt-water spray and oxygen then flush the air back out.A few more steps then we plunged back sideways into the monster current ~ the wave had already crashed."What did you say?" I shook Aya as we surfaced once more."Next year, much later next year," she grinned up at me."Aya, do you think you can,""Yes. Go find them. You gave her your word," she hugged me."Stay on the runway, head north, Dot says there is a building up there that is still intact. Aya, take this," I handed her the pistol and a spare mag."Do you promise you won't let me die today?" she shouted over the winds. I had to think about that. Aya rammed the pistol and magazine into her medical bag's side pocket. Oaths had their own power and maybe, just maybe, Dot Ishara would help me honor this one."I swear to you, I will not let you die today," I yelled back."Then go and hurry," she hugged me as I cut her loose. "She needs you more than I do. Go!" With that, we separated. Aya slugged forward a few steps, was staggered by another wave then turned and gave me her 'thumbs up'.I turned to the south and the blinding winds and terrible surf. I had to try. Alal kicked in. Jumbo commercial airliners = no help. Shipwrecks = he'd survived a few. I mapped out in my mind the waves, winds and their direction relative to the plane. I could still make out its half-submerged shape.The edge of the runway had a U-shaped seawall which created a peak that channeled the waves. I couldn't see the structure itself due to the high tide, but I could locate the wall by watching the waves break. If I could get to the outside of the eastern peak, I would have an easier time going about this rescue. Also, if Zhen wasn't brought in by the same waves that saved Aya and I, she would be driven to the northwest, parallel to the island.I could intercept them. I'd effective killed everyone else. Maybe, I dove in.'Don't!'“Too late, SzélAnya,” I vaulted off the semi-submerged sea wall, then let the undertow pull me along the broken coral rocks the Navy had put there when they expanded the airfield in the 1960's.I kept my hands on the rocks, rock climbing in reverse. The waves passing overhead tried to pluck me up and return me to the land. I moved as rapidly as I could, until my muscles ached from the water's chill and oxygen starvation. My lungs were on fire. I let the next wave pull me up.Fortune favors the foolish should be my new motto. I broke the surface just after another large wave passed by. I kept my breathing short and steady, despite my burning hunger for air. Gulping air would only earn me a mouthful of salt water. I took the reprieve in the storm's efforts to drown me.The 'foolish' was waiting for me four meters away, slightly behind me and to the East. Zhen was being dragged past the atoll. I kept one eye on her progress and the other on the waves. A monster rolled up, I dove under and thus resurfaced less than two meters away. Zhen had Mu in a classic rescue swim position. He was still likely to suffocate in this downpour.The look in her eyes was, pure confliction. I cut through the last bit of ocean to be at her side. My first action was to point to the next tidal beast heading for us.(Mandarin) "I've got him. Dive beneath the wave," I hollered. Had she resisted, all three of us would have been screwed. She didn't.I took another deep breathe then sort of freaked her out. I clamped my mouth over Mu's and expelled my air into his lungs. My right arm snaked under his left with my hand grabbing the back of his head. I shoved his head tightly against my face, pressing his nose shut, then dove. Zhen was right behind me.After that, we had our routine down. Zhen took Mu every fourth wave. Breathing for both him and me was tough. I'd take him back for the fifth and slowly we made ourselves to the eastern shore. I hit first, fell flat on my face but kept a hold on Mu. I temporarily lost sight of Zhen. One life at a time.I lugged Mu up, staggered his unconscious and my exhausted forms a few feet and then was toppled by yet another wall of water. This time, when I returned to a standing position, I check Mu's breathing. He would make it. I few more steps, another wave. I kept my footing that time. Another, Zhen came careening our way from the North. The waves had swept her passed us.Zhen immediately looped her arm under Mu's right arm. That allowed her, me and our shared burden to slog another meter inland, then the next wave caught up with us. Zhen fell; I stumbled, but righted myself and thus kept Mu from being washed away. Zhen rolled a few feet forward, rebounded up, only to be shoved away when a gust of wind hit us.On her next attempt, she rejoined us. From that point onward, we were far enough away from the land's end so that we were slogging through standing water and could resist the waves that impacted us.(Mandarin) "You came back," she shouted.There were all kinds of romantic, chivalric and very true responses to that. I chose a half-lie. (Mandarin) "I really wanted to see your tits one more time," I yelled. The looks she gave me was priceless. She was convinced I was a lunatic ~ no doubt about it.While she puzzled out her reaction/retort, we chanced upon a Quonset hut. In its lee, we caught a break from the worst of the wind. We also picked up a little Epona who had made the same logical choice (to get out of the wind) as we had. My heart leapt for joy. She was grinning like an impish hellion as she tried to tell me something.I leaned down until her lips were touching my ear."I forgot to pack my swimsuit," she chortled."It's probably sitting at home along with my surfboard," I kissed her on the forehead. "How about we get inside, somewhere?" Aya nodded.(Mandarin) "Let's go," I roared. Zhen nodded briefly. We turned Mu around so we would be dragging him with his back to the winds. The journey to the structure SzélAnya had pointed me at (the J O C building) took over an hour and a half to cover the two kilometers. Along the way, Aya discovered her inner Peter Pan.That was the childish fiction I was going to use to explain what she did when I regaled this episode to her Mother, assuming we made it back. In common parlance, a gust of wind that must have been about 150 kilometers per hour picked her up and off she went. Hell, I'd honored my oath to Zhen. I dropped Mu and raced after my own personal good luck fairy.A freak micro-burst, shot Aya up so high I lost track of her in the rain.'Please'.I saw my tiny human javelin plummeting to earth several meters away. Aya had refused to mitigate her fate by releasing the medical bag. I jumped, caught her and took another hard spill to the ground, Aya on top of me. She said something to me.I made it back to my knees, clutching a standing Aya firmly to my chest."I said 'I've had enough fun for today," she sputtered. "Can we go inside now?"'You now owe me a life, I go,''Thank you'. If she heard me, she didn't acknowledge it. The storm didn't relent its assault, that was for sure.I couldn't risk losing Aya again. I had placed Zhen and Mu on solid ground so she returned to being my top priority. I slogged my way through the typhoon, cyclone, 'what have you', only to find a solid steel door between Aya and safety. I felt volcanic fury building up inside me. Then I remembered I still had a few firearms,The QCW spoke and the door popped opened. I raced around the first interior corner, deposited Aya, ran back to the door, reverse course, raced back to Aya, kissed her cheek then ran back out into the blinding rain and battering winds. Zhen was right where I'd left her. She had relied on me coming back, damn her.(The J S O C Building)Five minutes later, I had the Seven Pillars twins inside and the door wedged shut. We were all temporarily safe. Here and there small puddles of water had formed from leaks above, but otherwise the structure was solid, sound and safe. Zhen and Mu were on the opposite side of the room. After she tended to her brother, she looked my way.I took the medical bag from a wide-eyed and happy Aya."We are down to two of them," she shivered. "Perhaps you should ask her to surrender now, while they still can?" I snorted then chuckled."Do you really think the proud scions of Duan will bow before the Amazons?" I asked her. Aya fatigued mind worked that question over."No, you are right. I don't think they are smart enough to know when they are beat. Cáel, they called me 'Chǒul u de cuüw ', or something like that," Aya kept her eyes on Zhen. "What does that mean?" It took me a second to piece that together. You can tell a great deal about people if you catch them talking about you behind your backs, or when they think you can't understand what they are saying."Ugly Bug," I translated. Aya snorted."That was rude. We can call her 'L s la ninda'," she proclaimed loud enough for Zhen to hear, "and we can call him Amar."I had to applaud her choice of names for our would-be killers.See, L s la ninda roughly translated from Amazon to English as 'cupcake'. Amar was Amazon for 'calf' which was a play on his Mandarin name, 'Mu'."Dumu?" I indicated her. Aya's eyes sparkled. Duma was the diminutive for 'daughter'."Atta," she murmured back. That was 'respectful Father'; a title no Amazon girl had addressed a man with in, well maybe, ever. The term was largely religious and only used in the terms of female divinities referring to divine paternals."Take the gun," I withdrew the QSW-06 from the medical bag. "I'm going to take a look at Mu."I wasn't a surgeon, most of my medical skills were self-taught (I get hurt a great deal), I was personally acquainted with pain and I wasn't easily grossed out. Alal's past granted me beaucoup knowledge to fill in the gaps. Mu was going to be okay.His problems were the bullet hole, blood loss, our mutual damp condition and his complete exhaustion. Zhen knelt close by as I cut open his pants. The bullet was still in him. I was guessing the round had cracked his femur, not broken it. I cleaned out the wound with minimal disturbance to Mu's sleep. The antiseptic came next, followed by the wrapping and finally a syringe of general antibiotic.(Mandarin) "Let's find something to dress ourselves in and then we all need to get out of these wet clothes. If we don't shed these clothes soon, we'll get a chill we don't need," I advised.(Mandarin) "How bad is it?" she asked. She meant her brother's condition.(Mandarin) "He'll be okay. Feel free to try and kill me when you wish. He doesn't need me anymore." That, pretty much confirmed for her what she suspected, I was a lunatic.(Mandarin) "Well, okay. Thank you. I will not kill the child; I have given you my word."(Mandarin) "Are you talking about 'Ugly Bug'?"(Mandarin) "Oh. I thought she didn't know our language either," she blushed then frowned. "She never revealed she understood our words."(Mandarin) "She doesn't. Aya has a phenomenal memory. All Amazons are taught from a very young age to develop a strong eye for detail. This includes remembering words spoken around them, even if they don't know their meaning."That silenced her. The medical kit gifted us with five glow sticks.The women paired up to search the first, second, third and fourth floors; I didn't trust Zhen to find something useful and report it to me. I knew women. She wouldn't kill Aya tonight and Aya would keep her

3:16 Day Special: Shotgun Saturday Night: Jan 18, 1997 On this 7th annual special episode to celebrate 3:16 Day we are joined with our buddy Rick Beebe! We will be watching the third episode of Shotgun Saturday Night! Stone Cold & Terry Funk go wild! “Your Mother's a W****!!!” Talking Taker with Alex & Travis: You can now dig deep back into their archives of  episodes and explore the entire run of the Deadman. Also check out new episodes available on the 1st of every month! Give them a follow on X @TalkingTaker and follow their YouTube page!  Booking the Territory: The Unprofessional Wrestling Podcast - Mike Mills, along with his hilarious & informative team of Doc Turner & Hardbody Harper, break down episodes of WCW World Championship Wrestling from Saturday Nights from 85-93. This week is WCW Saturday Night from August 21, 1993 Extreme ECW Live Cast: Join Mike P, JV, & Rick Beebe on the Booking the Territory Patreon Page at Patreon.com/BookingTheTerritory at the $5 Tier.  Our Vantage Point: Retro Wrestling Podcast with Joe Marotta & Michael Quinn, this week is 1987 WWF Canon - Championship Wrestling 08/15/87 Please reach out and support us on X @bottomlinecast, @MPRU83 & @JOHNVANDAMAGE Find out more at https://bottomlinecast.pinecast.co Send us your feedback online: https://pinecast.com/feedback/bottomlinecast/6affb4e7-e210-4de3-8295-c226e2f5c984 This podcast is powered by Pinecast.

We rewind to Perla, brunch, and a bonus ep we know is going to *brie* amazing!We're looking forward to puppy yoga, the kick-off of Black History Month, the Corner Slice, getting hypnotized, Rent Party Garden, kids and family events, SOMA+ Books meetup, Whiskey and Sugar, an art exhibit, and more!Three Things with the Immigrant Legal Resource Center, CHS Prom Shop, Listen to Your Mother auditions, Ashley Market, Brown Sugar Baking Company, Three Daughters, and an indoor play space.Now excuse us while we finish casting our Muppets version of Out of Africa…LINKS:Immigrant Legal Resource Center red cardsListen to Your MotherColumbia High School Prom ShopBrown Sugar Baking CompanyThree Daughters Weekly DinnersChildren's Indoor Play Space

Esta semana, en Islas de Robinson, completamos el salto hacia atrás iniciado hace una semana y en bucle psicodélico caemos entre 1966 y 1968, con algunos clásicos de los primeros arrebatos ácidos de por aquel entonces. Suenan: 13TH FLOOR ELEVATORS - "DON'T FALL DOWN" ("THE PSYCHEDELIC SOUNDS OF THE 13TH FLOOR ELEVATORS", 1966) / CLEAR LIGHT - "NIGHT SOUNDS LOUD" ("CLEAR LIGHT", 1967) / THE MUSIC MACHINE - "ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY", 1967) / THE SPIKE DRIVERS - "STRANGE MISTERIOUS SOUNDS" (1967) / THE ID - "SHORT CIRCUIT" ("THE INNER SOUNDS OF THE ID", 1967) / GOLDEN DAWN - "MY TIME" ("POWER PLANT", 1968) / THE FALLEN ANGELS - "YOUR MOTHER'S HOMESICK TOO" ("THE FALLEN ANGELS", 1967) / KALEIDOSCOPE - "DIVE INTO YESTERDAY" ("TANGERINE DREAM", 1967) / THE PRETTY THINGS - "DEFECTING GREY" (1967) / FAMILY - "VOYAGE" ("MUSIC IN A DOLL'S HOUSE", 1968) / TRAFFIC - "COLOURED RAIN" ("MR. FANTASY", 1967) / JULY - "YOU MISSED IT ALL" ("JULY", 1968) / BLOSSOM TOES - "LOOK AT ME I'M YOU" (WE ARE EVER SO CLEAN", 1967) / THE NICE - "THE CRY OF EUGENE" ("THE THOUGHTS OF EMERLIST DAVJACK", 1967) / HP LOVECRAFT - "MOBIUS TRIP" ("HP LOVECRAFT II", 1968) / Escuchar audio

How can positive psychology help us create more of what we want for ourselves in this new year? Life coach Ann Imig takes Margaret and Amy through some of her coursework and tells us how to connect our already-existing personality strengths to more joy and well-being. Ann Imig is an award-winning writer, speaker, and performer, currently working as a certified positive psychology life coach. In 2010 she created the nationwide storytelling series and book titled Listen to Your Mother. Ann, Amy, and Margaret discuss: -taking stock of the previous year and using that knowledge to create what's next -how the character strengths quiz can help you create more well-being -how to get more of what we want in 2025 Here's where you can find Ann Imig: -ListenLifeCoaching.com -Get a free 30-minute consultation with Ann! -Preview the "Year BEGIN" Workshop -Listen to Ann's podcast "It's Pronounced Memwah" with Wendy Aarons and Mariana Olenko -Take the character strengths quiz: https://viacharacter.org/ We love the sponsors that make this show possible! You can always find all the special deals and codes for all our current sponsors on our website: https://www.whatfreshhellpodcast.com/p/promo-codes/ What Fresh Hell is co-hosted by Margaret Ables and Amy Wilson. mom friends, funny moms, parenting advice, parenting experts, parenting tips, mothers, families, parenting skills, parenting strategies, parenting styles, busy moms, self-help for moms, manage kid's behavior, teenager, tween, child development, family activities, family fun, parent child relationship, decluttering, kid-friendly, invisible workload, default parent, parental stress, kids stress, decluttering, meal prepping, time management, new year, resolutions, positive psychology

Your Mother is Perfect! by Fr. Michael Denk

1 - Bounce Me Brother with a Solid Four - Ray Mc Kinley with Will Bradley and his Orchestra – 19412 - He's a Cousin of Mine - Miss Clarice Vance - 19063 - Boogie Woogie's Mother-In-Law - Buddy Johnson and his Band – 19414 – Bring It On Home to Grandma - Jones' Jazz Wizards - 19355 - I'm My Own Grandmaw - Esmereldy and her Novelty Band – 19486 - Your Mother's Son-In-Law - Billie Holiday with Benny Goodman and his Orchestra - 19337 - Old Uncle Ned - William Tuson – 19058 – Grandpa's Spells – Jelly Roll Morton and his Red Hot Peppers - 19269 - Swing, Swing Mother-in-Law - Jack Denny and his Orchestra – 193710 - Uncle Quit Work, Too - Lew Dockstader - 190611 - Aunt Patsy - Prince's Band – 191612 - My Mother-in-Law - Benny Bell – 194613 - Save Me Sister - Cab Calloway and his Orchestra - 193614 – Swing, Brother, Swing – Wingy Manone and his Orchestra – 193515 - Aunt Hagar's Blues - Jack Teagarden and The Modernaires with Paul Whiteman and his Swing Wing - 193816 - Peace Brother Peace - O'Neil Spencer with Willie Smith (The Lion) and his Cubs – 1937

Gordo returns from his travels with tales of Green Bay. We discuss a great episode of Raw and the incredible New Day angle. As we forgot to do Survivor Series predictions on the public show last week, we make up for it by doing the full fat (usually Patreon only) confidence points predictions on this show. Also, fans of the B Show should listen until the very end…(or, like…just skip to the end to find out. Who am I? Your Mother?!)

This week on Tree Hill Wrestling Federation Podcast...It's time for some Dick To Go... of Kaientai that is. Goldust has a public bonfire indoors, Undertaker is not stoked on Lawlers "Your Mother" jokes and Stone Cold has his worst tag team partner yet!And in Tree Hill, Lindsey is testing Lucas' loyalty, and we get to see the real talent behind the band Peyton signed. Clothes Over Bros grand opening for their Tree Hill location seemed to go smoothly in Brooke's eye, but Victoria isn't convinced.Please give us a like, rate, and follow! We are @treehillwf.podcast on all the socials, and you can listen in wherever you get your podcasts!#bringbacktoutSend us a textSupport the show

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

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

In this episode I welcome Bro. Daniel Heffernan. We discuss the Fourth Commandment “Honor Your Father and Your Mother”, and the implications and duties that it imposes both on children and parents in the family. We look in particular to St. Paul's letter to the Ephesians (Eph 6:1-2). We also consider the family as the basis for the whole human society. - You can find these topics in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, numbers 2196 to 2257. - Fr. Patrick Wainwright is a priest of Miles Christi, a Catholic Religious Order. - Visit the Miles Christi Religious Order website: https://www.mileschristi.org - This Podcast's Website: www.forcollegecatholics.org - To learn about the Spiritual Exercises (silent weekend retreat) preached by the Priests of Miles Christi, visit: https://www.mileschristi.org/spiritual-exercises/ - Recorded at Miles Christi “Family Center” in South Lyon, Michigan. - Planning, recording, editing, and publishing by Fr. Patrick Wainwright, MC. - Gear: SHURE MV7 XLR dynamic microphones, and a ZOOM H6 portable recorder. - Intro music from pond5.com

Mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are good, caring, and loving. And some are a bit more complicated. Sometimes it feels like a mother can be out to absolutely destroy your world–the mother at the heart of Gwendolyn Kiste's story “Your Mother's Love is an Apocalypse” (from the Mother Knows Best anthology) is of the latter ilk. Kiste explores the difficult mother-daughter relationship and asks the question: when does the responsibility of the daughter to take care of the mother end?    NEWS: We have a Bookshop.org shop now! Find all of our favorite books at our shop–and help out small businesses.    Recommended in this episode: Simone St. James's Murder Road and the anthology Mother Knows Best (which includes the story “Your Mother's Love is an Apocalypse”)    UP NEXT: Lora Senf's The Clackity    Buy our books here, including our newest Toil and Trouble.   

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So, I met today's guest, Dominique Luster, at a Women's Leadership Retreat in Lake Las Vegas earlier this year. I took Dominique's workshop, Your Mother's Mother's Mother, which I found fascinating. The premise of the workshop was to learn how to start tracing the powerful lineage of the women in our family, so we can better understand our brave roots. Maybe your mother went to college when it wasn't popular, maybe your grandmother or your great-grandmother was a first-time immigrant to the U.S. or another country. Whatever the stories of the women in your family, they start to light a fire of power underneath you, showing you that you, too, can do brave and amazing things. I know that when I started learning more about the women in my family, I was inspired. If you take the time after this show to start tracing your herstory, I'm sure you will be, too. During our conversation, Dominique and I chatted about: What led Dominique to be an archivist and why the work is so important.A piece of poetry Dominique shared from her site, the lustercompany.com.Some tips and tricks Dominique shared to get started tracing our female lineage.Why doing this is important for our personal and professional lives.And how she can help you if you don't know where to start.

On this week's episode of Enneagram IRL, we meet with Missy Stevens and Susanne Kerns of the “Mom and…” Podcast. Missy Stevens is a writer, foster child advocate, and podcaster. Her past life includes stints as a corporate community relations manager, and non-profit communications writer. These days, Missy is an aspiring novelist, slowly working on endless revisions of her first manuscript. Her work has been featured in local and national online publications, as well as in the stage production, Listen to Your Mother.  Susanne is a humor writer living in Austin, Texas with her husband and two children. Her work has been featured in Scary Mommy, Redbook, Today Parents and several parenting anthologies. She's currently writing her first non-fiction book. and also runs "Informed Parents of Austin," a group she founded to advocate for LGBTQIA+ students, families and staff in her school district.Listen to the “Mom and…” Podcast Here!

TVC 646.6: Five-time Emmy Award-winning writer, producer, and cultural critic John Barbour (Real People, Your Mother's Not a Virgin) recalls the circumstances that led to Bob Hope's appearance on John's talk show John Barbour's Half-Hour in December 1972, including the touching story of how Hope came to the studio that day by himself and applied his own makeup. Carol Hoenig's latest book, The Greatest Reviews I've Ever Read, is a collection of some of John's many film reviews for Los Angeles magazine and KNBC-TV Los Angeles from the 1970s that also includes an ongoing conversation between John and Carol about how movies continue to shape and influence our culture. Want to advertise/sponsor our show? TV Confidential has partnered with AdvertiseCast to handle advertising/sponsorship requests for the podcast edition of our program. They're great to work with and will help you advertise on our show. Please email sales@advertisecast.com or click the link below to get started: https://www.advertisecast.com/TVConfidentialAradiotalkshowabout Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

TVC 646.5: Part 2 of a conversation that began last week with five-time Emmy Award-winning writer, producer, and cultural critic John Barbour (Real People) and Carol Hoenig, the collaborator on John's memoir, Your Mother's Not a Virgin. Carol's latest book, The Greatest Reviews I've Ever Read, is a collection of some of John's many film reviews for Los Angeles magazine and KNBC-TV Los Angeles from the 1970s that also includes an ongoing, My Dinner with Andre-like conversation between John and Carol about how movies continue to shape and influence our culture. Topics this segment include why most movie adaptations of stage musicals do not succeed at the box office; how Neil Simon became one of John's staunchest allies, even after John had panned the movie version of The Sunshine Boys; and why Deep Throat was the most difficult movie that John ever had to review. Want to advertise/sponsor our show? TV Confidential has partnered with AdvertiseCast to handle advertising/sponsorship requests for the podcast edition of our program. They're great to work with and will help you advertise on our show. Please email sales@advertisecast.com or click the link below to get started: https://www.advertisecast.com/TVConfidentialAradiotalkshowabout Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Plant your boots firmly on the ground and find freedom with Irish & Celtic Music Podcast #656 . Subscribe now! Tradify, Sorcha, The Gothard Sisters, Altan, Emma Langford, Patsy O'Brien, Poitín, Brother Sea, Gordon McLeod, Beltaine, Banda Gaites Camín de Fierro, Meerrant, The Celtic Kitchen Party, Chance the Arm, Alexander James Adams GET CELTIC MUSIC NEWS IN YOUR INBOX The Celtic Music Magazine is a quick and easy way to plug yourself into more great Celtic culture. Enjoy seven weekly news items for Celtic music and culture online. Subscribe now and get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 FOR 2024 This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. You can vote for as many songs and tunes that inspire you in each episode. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2024 episode. You have just three weeks to vote this year. Vote Now! You can follow our playlist on Spotify to listen to those top voted tracks as they are added every 2 - 3 weeks. It also makes it easier for you to add these artists to your own playlists. You can also check out our Irish & Celtic Music Videos. THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC 0:07 - Tradify "Neili's Slide, Neili's Polka, Your Mother's Little Pet & Bill Sullivan's" from Take Flight 4:26 - WELCOME 6:12 - Sorcha "Waterman's / Luke Skywalker Walks on Sunshine" from Stomp the Floor 10:23 - The Gothard Sisters "Nightfall" from Dragonfly 14:34 - Altan "The Donegal Selection: An Bóthar Mór/Tommy Peoples' Reel/Is Cuma Liom (Reels)" from Donegal 17:51 - Emma Langford "Sailor's Wife" from Sowing Acorns 20:48 - FEEDBACK 22:55 - Patsy O'Brien "Where The Sunflowers Grow" from Onward 25:40 - Poitín "Aquarius Rhapsody" from One For The Road 31:05 - Brother Sea "Curious Shore" from Brother Sea Ep 34:48 - Gordon McLeod "The Colliers" from Still Fiddlin' 37:59 - Beltaine "Whisky Rye" from Mercy 41:01 - THANKS 43:28 - Banda Gaites Camín de Fierro “Flacos y Ensin Peinar" from Rock & Fierro 47:41 - Meerrant "Sur le Pont" from Fells 51:09 - The Celtic Kitchen Party "Along Came Catherine Snow" from Lobster Tail and Beer 53:25 - Chance the Arm "Cooley's Reel" from The Green Groves of Erin 57:52 - CLOSING 59:01 - Alexander James Adams "With These Boots" from The Blue Rose Rare and Other Faerie Tales 1:03:27 - CREDITS The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather and our Patrons on Patreon. The show was edited by Mitchell Petersen with Graphics by Miranda Nelson Designs. Visit our website to follow the show. You'll find links to all of the artists played in this episode. Todd Wiley is the editor of the Celtic Music Magazine. Subscribe to get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. Plus, you'll get 7 weekly news items about what's happening with Celtic music and culture online. Best of all, you will connect with your Celtic heritage. Please tell one friend about this podcast. Word of mouth is the absolute best way to support any creative endeavor. Finally, remember. Reduce, reuse, recycle, and think about how you can make a positive impact on your environment. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/. WELCOME THE IRISH & CELTIC MUSIC PODCAST * Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. I am Marc Gunn. This podcast is here to build a diverse Celtic community and help the incredible artists who so generously share their music with you. If you hear music you love, please email artists to let them know you heard them on the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast. Musicians depend on your generosity to keep making music. So please find a way to support them. Buy a CD, Album Pin, Shirt, Digital Download, or join their communities on Patreon. You can find a link to all of the artists in the shownotes, along with show times, when you visit our website at celticmusicpodcast.com. If you are a Celtic musician or in a Celtic band, then please submit your band to be played on the podcast. You don't have to send in music or an EPK. You will get a free eBook called Celtic Musicians Guide to Digital Music and learn how to follow the podcast. It's 100% free. Just email Email follow@bestcelticmusic and of course, listeners can learn how to subscribe to the podcast and get a free music - only episode. THANK YOU PATRONS OF THE PODCAST! You are amazing. It is because of your generosity that you get to hear so much great Celtic music each and every week. Your kindness pays for our engineer, graphic designer, Celtic Music Magazine editor, promotion of the podcast, and allows me to buy the music I play here. It also pays for my time creating the show each and every week. As a patron, you get music - only episodes before regular listeners, vote in the Celtic Top 20, stand - alone stories, and you get a private feed to listen to the show.  All that for as little as $1 per episode. A special thanks to our Celtic Legends: Bill Mandeville, Marti Meyers, Brenda, Karen DM Harris, Emma Bartholomew, Dan mcDade, Carol Baril, Miranda Nelson, Nancie Barnett, Kevin Long, Gary R Hook, Lynda MacNeil, Kelly Garrod, Annie Lorkowski, Shawn Cali HERE IS YOUR THREE STEP PLAN TO SUPPORT THE PODCAST Go to our Patreon page. Decide how much you want to pledge every week, $1, $5, $25. Make sure to cap how much you want to spend per month. Keep listening to the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast to celebrate Celtic culture through music. You can become a generous Patron of the Podcast on Patreon at SongHenge.com. TRAVEL WITH CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS Every year, I take a small group of Celtic music fans on the relaxing adventure of a lifetime. We don't see everything. Instead, we stay in one area. We get to know the region through its culture, history, and legends. You can join us with an auditory and visual adventure through podcasts and videos. There's still time to join my Celtic Invasion of Scotland's Whisky. Learn more about the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/ #celticmusic #irishmusic #celticmusicpodcast I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? Please email me. I'd love to see a  picture of what you're doing while listening or of a band that you saw recently. Email me at follow@bestcelticmusic. Joe Brown emailed: "I love all you do, and have been a fan since the early shows. Speaking of them, many times I do like to go back and listen to them. I have been in love with the artists you played back then. Poitin, Vicki Swan and Johnnyt Dyer, Wicked Tinkers, Jed Marum, MacTalla Mor, and who could possibly forget Serious Kitchen!  Thanks for everything!!" Don Hickey emailed: "Going to see the Dublin City Ramblers on 3/18 in Sanford, Fl. Thank you," Brenda Richardson emailed some photos: "I enjoy the podcast immensely, and I finally have some photos to send from a 5K  St Patrick's Day event on March 16, 2024. This was a group of friends and family brought together by an exercise class leader at the YMCA in Colorado Springs. We heard snippets of Celtic Music along our route and saw a group of dancers in the parade." Brian McReynolds emailed a St Patrick's Day picture of bagpipers. Margaret Stock emailed a photo from the Shamrock Shuffle race in Alaska.

How can positive psychology help us create more of what we want for ourselves in this new year? Life coach Ann Imig takes Margaret and Amy through some of her coursework and tells us how to connect our already-existing personality strengths to more joy and well-being. Ann Imig is an award-winning writer, speaker, and performer, currently working as a certified positive psychology life coach. In 2010 she created the nationwide storytelling series and book titled Listen to Your Mother. Ann, Amy, and Margaret discuss: -taking stock of the previous year and using that knowledge to create what's next -how the character strengths quiz can help you create more well-being -how to get more of what we want in 2024 Here's where you can find Ann Imig: -ListenLifeCoaching.com -Get a free 30-minute consultation with Ann! -Preview the "Year BEGIN" Workshop -Listen to Ann's podcast "It's Pronounced Memwah" with Wendy Aarons and Mariana Olenko -Take the character strengths quiz: https://viacharacter.org/ We love the sponsors that make this show possible! You can always find all the special deals and codes for all our current sponsors on our website: https://www.whatfreshhellpodcast.com/p/promo-codes/ new year, resolutions, positive psychology Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Joe Fortenbaugh calls in with his picks, and Amani Toomer stops by Your Mother's House! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The show is live at Your Mother's House in Garden City Park, Long Island for the TMKS Holiday Party. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Rick DiPietro stops by Your Mother's House, and LIVE TMKS Pro Picks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices