 
A Study of Modern Political Correctness  
(Or How to Offend Everybody in Less Than 200 Pages)

16 Short Stories for the Bold and Brave

by BJ Whittenbury
Copyright 2017 BJ Whittenbury

Published by BJ Whittenbury at Smashwords.

Smashwords edition license notes.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return it to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Authors Note

Introduction

Men With Wings

Fucking and Sucking

Jitterbugging with the Angels

Sara (and Ashley)

Interview With the Devil

Versatile Words

Walking On the Wild Side

Unusual Ways to Make a Dollar

Lycanthropy; a Beginner's Guide

House of the Vestals

Holly-Hocking in the City of Angels

The Barbecue (Guys)

The Barbecue (Girls)

The Sisters of Salem

The Short Story

The Wolf With the Red Roses

Victoria; the Place to Be

Epilogue ... (and Advertisments)

Glossary of Terms

Acknowledgements

Reviews For This Book

# Authors Note

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This publication is intended for an adult audience, and features coarse language, depictions of sexual activity and adult themes.

# Introduction

Hey Romero here, Johnny Romero.

I'm kinda like your guide or something yeah, you know, introduce these short stories to you or something.

So I dunno, maybe I'm like a story introducer or something, yeah?

But anyway's you get the picture; I say here comes a short story and like you read it okay.

But anyway's, come, walk with me, because it's like Thursday yeah, like the 'good' Thursday, welfare Thursday, and me and the boy's always meet down at Christie's and like you know, talk shit and drink see.

And okay, like you're probably thinking Christie's, what a dump!

And yeah, maybe it ain't the Hilton, but they got the cheapest beer prices okay, and me and the boy's gotta budget, like try and make the money last till the next 'good' Thursday see.

So come on, off to Christie's we go; most of the boy's will already be there.

So let's ... huh?

Story?

Oh okay, yeah, the first short story is coming, so you know, read it.

# Men With Wings

I hate freaking Angels.

In my village in the province of Canaan, everything was going smoothly until a freaking Angel decided to come down from Heaven.

The older folk in the village often told us the stories about Angels descending from the Heavens and seeking out young lasses, but we'd never seen it happen.

I sought out Enoch one day to ask him about it.

Enoch was the wise old sage of our village; 'Seen it all, done it all!' he used to say.

"Did it really happen Enoch, did Angels really come down from Heaven?"

"True my boy, for better than twenty years they doth descend and taketh a young lass who begat a child for them."

"Yeah, Angel babies?" I asked.

"The children are a product of an Angelic/human coupling, and the scribes have chosen to call them Nephilim."

"So are these Nephilim kinda like God's children?"

"No, the Angels who descended and succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh were all banished from God's kingdom, and they now serve the devil. We call them the Fallen Angels, and their offspring, the Nephilim, are treated as outcasts."

"Some of the girls are saying that they saw an Angel at Mount Hermon last week."

"I heard that and I'm surprised. There hasn't been an Angel sighting for more than two years."

* * *

I sought out Zillah, who I was very keen on.

Zillah had golden hair and eyes the colour of the sky, and one time, down by the river, I kissed her. She was in my plans for the future.

"Hey Zill."

"Hey Trevor."

"You wanta go sit by the river?"

"Nah, sorry Trev, got chores to do then I gotta get my shoulder done." she smiled innocently.

Ever since the Angel sighting, all the young girls had gone bananas. They were all getting Immocules to paint Angels on their shoulders, and most of them were cutting the hem of their garments above their knees.

Zillah had beautiful knees, and I thought it was my responsibility to tell her what Enoch had said.

"Zill if this Angel dude begat you, you'll have a Nephilim, and the kid will become an outcast."

"Yeah I heard that."

I gazed at her shyly; "Plus Zill, I wanted to be the one who begat you."

"Ohhh, that's so sweet!" she smiled compassionately; "But Trev, how many chances do you get to be fucked by an Angel?"

Hmmm, how could I answer that?

* * *

By late afternoon, all the young girls were buzzing with excitement.

"So we all go to Mount Hermon tonight?" asked Nivinia.

"Yes!" proclaimed Aisha; "They say he has hair of gold and huge wings!"

"I heard he's all shiny!" exclaimed Propheus.

"I heard he wears no garment and his wang is swinging in the breeze!" added Lydia.

"And he supposedly shaves his balls!" said Naamah.

* * *

By mid-evening, Nivinia, Aisha, Propheus, Lydia, Naamah and Zillah went to Mount Hermon.

As we watched them walk away, my best friend Noah muttered; "Freaking Angels!"

"Yeah, this sucks," I moaned; "I was going to try and get to second base with Zill tonight."

He gazed at me; "You wanta follow them and see what happens?"

I had noticed that both Zillah and Propheus had cut their garments another inch shorter; "Yeah, let's do it!"

We stayed out of view, and watched and waited.

And waited and waited.

I was just starting to nod off when Noah nudged me excitedly; "Trev, Trev!"

I looked up in amazement as I saw a shining beam of light in the dark night, the beam descending in ethereal tardiness.

The girls were all squealing and bouncing up and down, and I noticed that Propheus wasn't wearing her loin cloth.

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Noah.

The beam touched the ground, and the flapping of giant wings broke the stillness of the night.

The beam softened, and an image became visible as all the girls gasped.

There he stood, legs askew, wings spread, his golden hair flowing past his shoulders, and yeah, the freaking show-off wasn't wearing any garment.

"Angels get circumcised?" Noah wondered.

Propheus was the self-appointed leader of the group and she knelt before him as she whispered shakily; "Oh Shiny, Naked Angel, how may we please you?"

I had never heard Propheus speak in such a timid manner. She was aloof and confident and normally spoke with command in her voice, indeed the last time I spoke to her, she stated aggressively; 'Piss off Dickwad!'

But now before this Angel dude, her voice had a distinct waver.

"Si nudetur me!" the Angel commanded.

The girls looked at each, confused, until Propheus asked; "Pardon?"

The Angel shook his head; "Oh sorry, that was Latin; I said disrobe for me."

Noah and me inched closer, our eyes wide open.

Soon six bodies were on display, the flesh glistening in the dulcet moonlight.

And I mean crap, I'd been begging Zill for weeks to give me a look at her loin cloth, and she kept saying; 'Trevor, excuse me but I'm a lady!'

All this Wanker has to do is say, Disrobe for me, and garments are off before you have time to blink.

Gee, Zillah did have a spanking butt though.

Propheus lay before him and the Angel engaged, his wings flapping in time with his none too subtle thrusts, Propheus baying like a lamb.

The Angel begat Propheus, Aisha, Lydia, Naamah and my Zillah, but before laying herself down, Nivinia was curious; "So like if I let you hump me, are you gonna marry me?"

The Angel huffed; "I'm an Angel and I'm not bound by any earthly traditions."

"Okay, but I want some kind of commitment from you. I want to know that you'll play a part in my child's upbringing."

"Forget it!" the Angel laughed; "I'm outta here!"

"Wait, wait!" Nivinia pleaded; "Okay, you can hump me but I want a little kissing first. I mean with these other skanks, you hardly even touched them, it was just like, Wham-bam, thank-you ma'am!"

"Ohh, okay, a couple of kisses, sure."

"And fondle my boobs too."

"You do realise that I'm Angel, don't you?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't pay a little attention to me!"

"Okay, fondle boobs, sure."

"And lick my puss too."

"Ohh, alright; but let's make it quick because you're starting to kill the mood!"

"And one last thing-"

"For God's sake, what now?"

"You have to give me an orgasm, you have to make me cumm."

The Angel stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head; "Nahh, not interested. You're just too demanding lady!"

The Angel prepared to take flight, but Nivinia, realising that she may never get another chance to be humped by an Angel, lay before him, still muttering; "Lazy bastard."

* * *

The next afternoon, Zillah confronted me.

"You were watching?" she asked, clearly dismayed.

"Watching what?"

"Lydia said she saw you and Noah watching the Angel hump us!" she stated, her eyes blazing with aggression.

"Ummm, ummm, we just wanted to make sure nothing happened to any of you."

The fire went out of her eyes and she lowered her gaze as she scuffed her right sandal into the dirt; "Arrrhh, I guess that's kind of noble, but Trev, getting humped by an Angel is a pretty personal experience."

I watched as her sandal drew circles in the dirt, then I raised my gaze as I mumbled; "Did you, you know, enjoy it?"

For a moment she stared at me, then lowered her gaze again; "Yeah well I felt kinda celestial while it was happening, but all of us were talking about it this morning, and Nivinia was right."

"About?"

"Well it was all about him, just about him getting his rocks off. Niv was the only one he kissed, and she just about had to beg him to fondle her boobs, and like what's wrong with him anyway? I mean nobody ever died by licking someone's puss."

Ohhh, me heated in a garment raising manner.

"Ummm Zill,"

"What?"

"If you like, I'll lick your puss."

For an anxious moment she stared at me, then looked over her shoulder, then looked to the ground.

Without saying a word, she clasped my hand and led me away.

* * *

With my hands behind my head, and Zill's face on my shoulder, I stared into the darkening sky, pleased that I was no longer a virgin.

"How was it for you Zill?" I asked, still in a dreamy contentment.

She gazed up at me; "I guess I've been humped twice in two days, once by an Angel and once by an Average Joe."

Hmmmm ...

I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer, but I had to ask; "Who was better?"

She smiled for me; "The experience with you was better, because you gave me an orgasm."

I smiled as well; "I'll treasure the memory; giving you your first orgasm."

"Ummm, it wasn't actually my first orgasm." she said timidly.

Me not smiling now; "Huh?"

"Well you know, Nivinia masturbated last year and then told us all about it, and then I guess ever since, we've all been having a go at it."

"You masturbate?"

She gazed at me shyly; "Once you start it's kinda hard to stop."

* * *

Word spread quickly around the village, and the Council of Elders had no option but to bring the six girls before them.

"You stupid bitches, laying with an Angel! I hope you all realise that you're going to give birth to Nephilim children, and Nephilim are like the bottom of the barrel!" Ecob exclaimed.

Propheus didn't like being pushed around by anybody, and she spoke up.

"Really? I heard that Nephilim grow to be mighty men, men of renown!"

The Council of Elders ummed and arrhhed until Ecob replied forcefully; "Whatever the case, we will not tolerate Nephilim in our village, so all six of you are banished from this village forever!"

* * *

The next day, all the people of the village watched as the Council of Elders banished the girls.

Noah stood next to me as we watched the girls skulk away.

"Trev, they were the best-looking girls in the village!" he fretted.

I turned around to look at the remaining collection of eligible girls, and my heart sank.

Tooseus was funny looking and Elisa was overweight, Lamenti looked like a man and Cesiuis had a bad wind problem, while Leah walked funny because of a hip problem and Irena, well all the young men knew Irena pretty well.

I was in a heightened state of anxiety, but then I thought about Zillah's butt.

"Zill wait; I'm coming with you!"

Noah ran towards Naamah; "Naah, can I come with you?"

"Will you take me for your wife?" Naamah asked.

"Indeed I will!" Noah declared.

And Jacob ran to Lydia and Joktan ran to Aisha and Nahor ran to Nivinia and Abram ran to Propheus.

Everybody was happy, well most everybody.

Nivinia inquired of Nahor; "You'll do oral for me?"

"Ummm, yeah, sure." he replied bashfully.

Propheus regarded Abram for a moment then turned back to the village; "Joseph, you don't want to take me as your wife?"

"Nahhh, you're too bossy!"

"Prick!" she huffed as she took Abram's hand; "Come on then, you'll do."

* * *

We settled near Sodom and established our new village.

Propheus advised us that she was our Council of Elders, and nobody argued with her.

All six couples were to marry on the same day, although the day before the ceremony, Zill approached me.

"You don't have to marry me if you don't want to Trev; I mean I realise that I'm soiled."

I wanted to see her bum again and I wanted to begat with her again, so I exclaimed excitedly; "I love you and I want to marry you!"

"Ohhh honey!" she kissed me then gazed into my eyes; "You do realise I have a Nephilim growing inside me?"

"With the Angel, he was really quick, and I begat you the next day, so it could be my child Zill!"

"I wish it was baby, but they say that Angels have a one hundred per cent strike rate!"

* * *

Nine months later our village welcomed our new arrivals; six Nephilim babies.

How did I know they were all Nephilim? Simple; they were mighty babies, babies of renown.

* * *

We called our village, Next To Sodom, so that passers-by wouldn't confuse us with Sodom, because Sodom, man, was that place out of control!

We'd heard whispers that most of the citizens were wild Nephilim or off shoots of wild Nephilim, and all the weirdo's, miscreant's, debauched or generally unhinged tossers were attracted to Sodom or its neighbour, Gomorrah.

After a long time of redirecting tossers to either Sodom or Gomorrah, we erected a fence around our village and placed a big sign out the front;

THIS IS NOT SODOM OR GOMORRAH;

FOR ALL UNCLEAN AND UNHEALTHY

PRACTICES, PLEASE CONTINUE UP THE ROAD A BIT

TO WHERE ALL THE FREAKING NOISE IS

COMING FROM!

* * *

Zill and me called our Nephilim child Zildan, and because I was in love with Zill's gorgeous butt, we had another child before the next rains.

A human child.

Eight rainy seasons later, we had five children; Zildan, Zildoes, Zildoesn't, Ssshhbequiet, and, and ... I can't remember the other one's name.

Nivinia and Nahor had eight children, although funny, some of them didn't really look much like Nahor.

Everybody in the village worked hard, cultivating our crops and expanding our boundaries to cater for our increasing population.

Nivinia always volunteered if we needed to get supplies from our noisy and boisterous neighbours; 'I might stay overnight.' she advised Nahor.

He was always happy with that, as her physical demands were starting to take a toll on him.

* * *

When Zildan had reached the age of sixteen rainy seasons, Zill and me thought it was time he knew of his origins.

"So like your dad is your dad yeah, and he loves you and everything," Zill began; "But he's not actually your real father."

"I know." Zildan replied blandly.

Zill and me looked at one another, Zill clearly surprised as she asked; "You know?"

"I have visions mum, and the Fallen Angel, Azazeal is my dad."

Nothing left to be said, although Zildan gazed at me; "Is it okay if I call you Trevor from now on?"

Hmmm, guess so.

Zill was concerned about it and wanted to discuss it with the Council of Elders.

"Hey Proph, how ya doing? Thought I better tell you that Zildan knows that the lazy Angel is his father."

Propheus sat straight in her chair, trying to look regal; "Yeah, well all the Nephilim kids have visions; don't you read your pamphlets?"

"Ohhh sorry, I've been tied up."

"God Zillah, takes me two minutes to do the housework!"

"No, I meant literally; Trev's got this fetish thing happening, and he ties me up and spanks my butt."

"Ohhh kinky; don't tell Nivinia about it, or else she'll move in!"

Zill was satisfied and stood to leave, when Propheus's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Thinking about what I just said, if you have another kid, got a cool name for the child,"

"What?"

"Godzilla!"

Zill dropped her gaze; "You been smoking the funny stuff again?"

"Who me?" Propheus boomed in mock outrage; "No, no way, of course not ..." then lowered her gaze; "Ummm, actually, might have had a little one."

Zill raised her eyebrows.

Propheus relaxed back into a more comfortable position; "Niv got some wicked stuff from Gomorrah; wanta come over tonight and share one?"

Zill smiled; "I will if I don't get tied up!"

* * *

Things were good in Next To Sodom.

In the rainy season it rained and in the fall, things fell and in the sunny season it was freaking hot and in the spring, yeah, well, not really sure what happened in the spring.

Me and Zill had another kid, but things got a little confusing.

"That's a stupid name!" I spluttered in frustration.

"Baby, come on, I like it!"

"I mean think about it Zill, we shorten all our kid's names, but we can't shorten Godzilla!"

"Yes we can."

"No seriously, we can only shorten it to Zill which is you, or to God, and I mean, don't they say, Do not take the name of our God in vain!"

We ended up calling him Jim.

* * *

It was the sunny season or the falling season when Noah pulled me aside. He was clearly worried.

"What's wrong man?" I asked.

"He's calling to me?"

"Who's calling to you?"

"Him." he stated solemnly.

"Who?" I was starting to get agitated, because I'd just brought some new rope and Zill's butt had set up permanent residence in my mind.

"The Big Guy."

"Noah, if you got something to say, just say it man."

Noah ran both hands through his hair, looking really concerned; "Trevor, God's calling to me."

I sank back in frustration, gripping the rope in my sweaty right hand; "Niv gave you some of the new shit, yeah?"

He looked up, perplexed; "She's got a new batch?"

"You haven't tried it?"

"Arrhh trying to steer away from her actually; every time she gives me some, I gotta do oral on her."

"Oh brother, this new batch is worth the time and effort!"

"Okay, I might drop in and see her, but," his bowed his head in resignation; "But yeah, God is calling me; he wants me to build an ark or something."

"Crap off man!"

"Serious Trevor! I mean every freaking night he's talking to me, like, You got it Noah, build an ark so I can kill everybody!"

Noah was best friend and I knew that he was sane and righteous, so I started to get worried.

"God wants to kill everybody?"

"Yeah, he's pissed off that the Nephilim are kinda taking over, and all the normal dudes are straying from his flock and partying with the Nephilim."

"Most of the Nephilim are in Sodom and Gomorrah; why doesn't he just blow those places up?"

"Jeez Trev, I'm just a guy from the arse end, back lots of Canaan; I'm not going tell God what to do!"

"You sure it's God?"

"Yeah, I'm positive man, and he's like, Come on slacker, get your arse into gear or you and your family are gonna get drowned too!"

"God's gonna drown everybody?"

"Ummm, something about raining for forty nights or forty days or something like that."

Gee, was I in a spin.

I had to talk to Zill, but she talked to me first.

"Glad you're home; what's the name of our fifth kid?" she asked.

"Sorry, I can never remember."

Zill pulled Zildoes and Zildoesn't aside; "Hey guys, you know your second youngest brother, what's his name again?"

Zildoes and Zildoesn't looked at each other and then looked to the ground, before Zildoes muttered; "We didn't know he had a name; I mean you guys never call out for him."

Both of us made a mental note to ask the kid what his name was, then I pulled Zill aside; "Baby, problems, big problems!"

She looked at me; "What?"

"God's telling Noah that he has to build an ark so that he can kill everybody!"

"God's building an ark?"

"No, God wants Noah to build an ark!"

"And then Noah's gonna kill everybody?"

"No, God's gonna kill everybody!"

Zill stared at me, then went about preparing dinner.

I was confused.

"Zill, did you hear what I said?"

"Niv's new batch is wicked!" she said as she peeled the potatoes; "Last time I had some, I dreamt that you turned into a zebra and I spanked you!"

Hmmm, spanked me ... Oh, man, wait, get back on track!

"No he hasn't been smoking Zill, God's been calling to him!"

"Why doesn't God speak to Propheus; she's the Council of Elders!"

"Ummm, if I was God, I'd probably speak to Noah too, because Propheus is just too bossy."

"Yeah, good point; chop those carrots will you?"

The next day the six couples met in Propheus' hut, and Noah nervously told the gathering about his dreams.

Nivinia got up and strode towards him aggressively; "You been stealing from my secret stash?"

Noah cowered, but Zill wondered; "You got a secret stash Niv?"

Niv seemed embarrassed; "Arrhh, I was gonna tell you about it, eventually."

"What's it like?"

"Come over tonight and find out for yourself."

"Cool! Ohhh, wait; you tying me up tonight baby?" Zill asked me.

Me blushing as I whispered; "We'll talk about it later."

"Tying you up?" Niv asked Zill; "Why does he tie you up?"

Zill lowered her gaze; "Probably a good time to throw over to you baby."

Ohhhh, my dirty linen hanging out for everybody to see, although I was suddenly decisive; "I think we should be talking about Noah's dreams."

"Okay, sure," Niv agreed; "But I'm coming over to your place tonight!"

Propheus took control; "Okay Noah, next time you speak to God, let him know that he should be speaking to me about this."

"I didn't ask to be his contact," Noah began; "And anyway, maybe we should just start building the ark."

Everybody was in silent contemplation except Niv, who leant in close to Zill; "Ties you up, what naked?"

Jacob spoke up; "Ummm, what's an ark?"

Noah twiddled his thumbs; "You know, like a boat."

Propheus glared at Noah; "Why don't you call it a boat then?"

Noah was sane and righteous, but also suddenly indignant; "Actually Noah's Ark sounds better than Noah's Boat!"

We could still hear Niv whispering; "Spanks your arse, yeah?"

* * *

It took one rainy season, one spring season and half a sunny season to build the boat, errr, ark, and we all felt proud of ourselves.

The next day, Noah fronted us all; "Okay, well God spoke to me last night and he said the rains will start soon," then he lowered his gaze; "So thanks for your help and everything, and you know, we'll miss you all."

Propheus was the first to pick up on it; "Arrhh, miss us all?"

Noah couldn't look at anyone; "Me and my family will miss you all."

"No you won't, because we'll be with you!" Propheus declared.

"Ummm, ummm, I think God just wants to save me and my family."

"Pig's arse!" Propheus boomed; "We helped you build the freaking boat, so we're all coming!"

Noah looked embarrassed; "It's an ark."

"Anyway Dickwad, you're gonna need all of us to repopulate the world after everybody is killed!" Propheus stated.

"Good point," Zill said; "And Niv's really good at repopulating!"

* * *

Then it started raining and we made ourselves at home on the boat, errr, ark.

And the waters rose.

And rose and rose and rose.

It was okay for the first few weeks, because Niv made Thursday night, Spanking Night; but as the rain continued to tumble down, we all began feeling very confined.

You couldn't go anywhere without stepping in animal dung, and the smell was starting to affect us all, ohh, plus Niv's stash had been exhausted.

Propheus was mighty pissed; "This is all the fault of that freaking Fallen Angel! If I ever see that lazy prick again ..."

* * *

Towards the end of the rainy season or the spri ... oh hell, I had no idea what season it was; but Noah came charging in; "There's a dove!"

Everybody chose to ignore him, because I mean there were doves everywhere, and sparrows and robins and all kinds of freaking birds fluttering around noisily and depositing their droppings on your head.

"Dickwad!" Propheus mumbled.

"No, I mean this dove has an olive leaf in its beak!" Noah declared.

Niv stopped spanking me; "The water's abating?"

"Yes!" Noah said excitedly.

Jacob piped up; "Ummm, what does abating mean?"

"Shit's drying out, moron!" Propheus responded, then wondered; "Where are we?"

Zill looked out the window and saw the sign;

HI, YOU'RE ON MOUNT ARARAT

POPULATION USED TO BE 263,

CURRENTLY ZERO.

"We're on Mount Ararat!" Zill gushed.

Everybody was excited, although the Council of Elders seemed to be deep in thought.

"Okay, name changed needed," Propheus said; "Our new home is now called Mount Propheus!"

Zill looked a little embarrassed as she drew circles in the animal dung with her sandal and gazed bashfully at Propheus; "Ummm, Mount Propheus has a kinda sexual connotation about it."

Nivinia was always quick on the uptake; "Maybe we could call it Everybody Mount Nivinia!"

Mount Ararat it stayed.

We all worked hard to build our new village, we worked together as a community, and every Thursday night all the adults sampled Niv's experimental batch, and then got spanked.

* * *

One night during the next sunny season, a bright beam hovered over our little village, and all the adults were drawn outside to gaze upon it.

Slowly it began to descend, the wings flapping, and then he stood before us, standing tall and proud, his golden locks spilling over his strong shoulders.

He gazed upon the six women, then spoke with a command in his voice; "Si nudetur me!"

Propheus casually strolled in front of him, her hands clasped demurely in front of her garment as she said; "Listen Shiny, Naked Angel ... just fuck off!"

THE END
Huh, what? I gotta comment on the story?

Okay, how's this; Holy crap-shit!

Noah's ark, Nephilim and Angels, jeez ... although, one time I thought I seen an Angel.

Or maybe not a real Angel, just a blond-haired chick with really big tits.

Quick, cross the road, come, we gotta get to Christie's.

When I seen that chick, I was thinking, Will you look at that bitches tits? Man, the bitch could be rich, I mean set up a business yeah, have a feel of these babies for $20-! Man, the queue would be a mile long every day and before ya know, the bitch would own half of Boston!

And like she could say that she is an Angel, but nobody would give a fig, because they'd just be wanting to feel her tits.

Huh ... another story? No way, I'm on a roll here!

Ahhh, actually this next story has got 'fucking' in the title, so I might read this one.

# Fucking and Sucking

I first saw her on the Monday night.

On the Tuesday night, she smiled at me.

On the Wednesday night, I spoke to her.

On the Thursday night, I asked her out.

On the Friday, we went on our first date.

Our first and only date.

Actually, we did go out again the next night, but when someone dies during the date, I don't tend to think of it as being a proper date.

I knew that if you took out such an exquisite looking creature, you needed to take her some place better than Macca's, but I was on a shoe-string budget, and our meal comprised of quarter-pounders and fries.

She had hair of gold, the shimmering hair seeming to have a life of its own, subtly swishing and swaying, mesmerising me.

Japanese cartoon animators would have had a field day with this gorgeous creature; large blue eyes and a tiny nose, her lips full yet her mouth small, innocence and vulnerability clearly showcased in every feature.

I first fell in love with her face.

Then her hair.

Then with her.

Although she was cautious.

"You don't know anything about me." she warned.

"My gorgeous Satanachia," I mumbled; "I want to know everything there is to know about you!"

And yes, agreed; maybe I should have thought that Satanachia was a strange name for a girl, but I was in love.

With her face.

And her hair.

And with her.

"Jimmy," she began, her lips slightly pouted, her lashes fluttering; "If we go forward in this relationship, somebody might get hurt."

My quarter-pounder was finished and my fries were almost gone, and maybe it was me thinking about the apple pie that had me muttering; "Ohhh, Satanachia, hurt me baby."

She nibbled a fry, then fluttered the lashes, turning her gaze to me; "Yeah? I can hurt you?"

Hmmm ...

"Ummm, well I'd like to get to know you better." I said, smiling at her, smiling for her, wishing that I had been the fry that her moist lips had devoured.

"Okay, okay," she began; "But I can hurt you, I mean you're okay with that?"

Jeez ...

"Ummm, did I say that I'd like to get to know you better; I mean did I say that?"

She smiled a smile not of innocence and vulnerability, it was a smile of carnality; "Forget about that, I just want to know if I can hurt you; I mean, you know, I'd love to hurt you."

I'd been dumped before, and I was used to emotional pain, so I said; "My emotions have been bruised before and I want to take a chance with you."

She leant forward, her elbows on the table, her eye-lashes fluttering; "I'm not talking about emotional pain."

I noticed that she hadn't even scratched any of her Monopoly Scratchie's, and I made a mental note to collect them and scratch them later on, then I said; "What exactly are you talking about?"

And she told me.

THE END

No, no; just kidding, that's not THE END; no, far from it, although in some ways I wish that it had of been.

She said: "Let's go out tomorrow night."

I said; "This night is still young."

She said; "Tomorrow night is a full moon."

I said; "Okay, sure."

She said; "Tomorrow night is Halloween."

I said; "Yeah, tomorrow is cool."

She said; "Let's meet in the middle of the cemetery."

And I said; "Arrhh, cemetery?"

She said; "Tomorrow night, Halloween, with a full moon; we meet in the middle of the cemetery."

I had various issues I wanted to raise, but her hair swished and her eye-lashes fluttered and her lips pouted, so I squeaked out; "Your fries, you gonna finish your fries?"

* * *

The next morning, I wanted to clarify a few things about our upcoming date, so I rang her but got message bank, her message a bit strange; 'I'm never up until the sun has set, and ohh, don't leave a message because I never take any notice of them.'

Sun has set? ... Halloween? ... Full moon? ... Cemetery ...

Maybe I should have thought things through a little more, but I was in love with her face and her hair and with her, and I also wanted to fall in love with her breasts and her bottom and other bits, so I went out to the cemetery and waited for her.

I was a bit early, and that was only because I didn't want to be late, but as I stood in the middle of the cemetery, I began to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

Night-time is usually dark, but this night was the darkest of nights, the full moon glowing eerily in the black landscape. A chilly wind whistled through the unwelcoming surrounds of the cemetery, and I made a mental note to tell her that I scratched her Scratchies and she'd won a free Quarter-pounder.

Right on the stroke of midnight, a glowing presence seemed to surround the area, and then there she was before me.

Her hair danced on the breeze, and I gasped as I stared at her.

She wore a long flowing white gown, and with the glowing moon behind her, the gown was fully transparent, and I could see that she wasn't wearing any undergarments.

I was in love with face.

And her hair.

And her.

And her pert breasts.

And her bottom.

And another bit.

And I really liked her see-through white gown too.

In a moment of confusion, she drifted toward me, and I couldn't understand the dynamics of her actions, because she wasn't walking, she was more gliding, and I panicked; Halloween, full moon, cemetery ...

But then there she was before me; Her face, her hair, her breasts her bottom, the other bit ...

Man, she was hot, and I was trembling because, because ... no, I can't remember why I was trembling; but she said; "Take off all your clothes and lie on the slab by this headstone."

Under the circumstances, it was a reasonable request, so I undressed and then nervously gazed at her.

"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable lying on a dead person's grave."

Curiously, she was chewing gum, and thinking about it now, I didn't realise creatures like her chewed gum; but she spat out the gum and said eloquently; "It's okay; it's mine."

I had a quick look around and saw the headstone;

Smith, Satanachia

b. 12/27/1732

d. 6/6/1756

Maybe I should have thought about it more, but my mind simply shut down as she began loosening the gown.

Her body was slender with curves and bumps in all the right places, she being a visually erotic masterpiece. I didn't notice her hair, because I was looking at other bits.

She knelt over me and touched my dangly bit, and soon it wasn't dangly.

She squatted over me and guided my not-dangly bit inside her, and she breathed out; "You okay with this?"

And I was thinking, what? Is that like a trick question?

Of course I'm okay with it!

So I nodded and said something that I now regret. I wanted to be bold and wild and masculine, but unfortunately, I whimpered; "Be gentle with me."

She rocked back and forward slowly, then she smiled a smile that could stop hearts and have Priest's diving for their crucifix's, as she replied; "No."

And I was okay with that yeah, because she was sliding, squeezing, pushing her breasts into my face, and I did feel masculine, the length of my not-dangly bit enjoying the moistness of her Temple, her Chapel, and she smiled again, the carnal smile exposing her teeth and her, her ... fangs?

Her teeth generally were a dazzling white, and so too were the two fangs.

I thought I needed to say something at this point, so I wheezed out; "Ummm, ummm ... I see that you have a couple of pointy fangs!"

She didn't seem all that interested in my statement, as she opened her mouth fully and slowly lowered her face towards my neck.

She was still sliding, gliding, me on a journey, me on an odyssey, me puffing and panting, and I felt the fangs puncture the skin of my neck, the fangs spearing into my jugular ...

Yoiks!

I was but a slave to her Temple, her Chapel, and I whimpered as she slowly raised her face and took me in her gaze, then she remarked enthusiastically; "Hmmm, you taste pretty good Bro!"

Then she dived back in, severing blood vessels, drawing in, sucking up, aggressive now, almost snorting, and I bucked and thrusted, knowing that release was only another pump and grind away.

I bucked again, a major buck, the buck being my release, the buck so vigorous that she momentarily lost contact with my neck, and she threw her head back, riding it out with me, laughing, thrusting aggressively, blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

I can't remember what happened next, but I slowly opened my eyes in response to the light shaking.

I looked around drowsily and saw her staring at me.

"Wake up Bro, I gotta get going; be light soon."

On my God, she was a vision, and I was definitely in love with her face and her hair and her breasts and her bottom and her Temple, and feebly I mumbled; "Ummm, you've still got blood on your lips."

She giggled and shyly cleaned her lips, then put a piece of gum in her mouth and began chewing.

I think she sensed that I was confused, so she said; "The gum kinda cleans my teeth and helps to dislodge the little pieces of flesh."

Memories began to circulate for me, and I asked; "Errrr, did you kinda like bite me last night?"

"Yeah man," she replied; "You tasted good too, like yummy, yummy, yummy!"

I looked at the headstone again as I asked; "Did you say that this grave site is yours?"

"Yeah, it is," she replied; "I always fuck and kill on my own grave, because you know, I'm just an old romantic at heart."

"But it says that this person died in 1756."

"Yeah, yeah, I was having a good year too, until I got turned."

Things began to click for me; Halloween, full moon, cemetery, fangs ...

"Are you, are you like a vampire?" I asked timidly.

"Me?" she asked, a measure of surprise in her question; "Yeah, of course!"

I considered for a bit, then said brightly; "I guess that's good, because I can tell my friends that I had sex with a hot vampire."

She lowered her gaze and said; "Ohhh, you are a bit slow, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

"Well you haven't really got any friends anymore, because today somebody is gonna walk through here and find your body, and you're gonna get buried or whatever, then next full moon I'll come and resurrect you."

Huh?

"What are you saying; I'm a vampire?"

"No silly!" she laughed as she jabbed me in the shoulder; "I have to resurrect you, then you become a vampire."

"So, so I'm dead?" I shakily asked.

"No, you're undead."

"Undead, like a zombie?"

"No, no; zombies are stupid fuckers, us vampires are like the Bomb Bro, you know, we rock!"

"Okay, okay, but I'm dead?"

"I just told you, you're undead."

"Crap!" I muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"Well in my job, I was in line for a promotion."

"Okay, but forget about that shit, I mean you don't have to worry about jobs or promotions or nothing Bro; next full moon you is gonna be a vampire, and like we just do whatever the hell we want."

"Hmmm, that sounds good."

"There are a few drawbacks though."

"Like what?"

"Well the sunlight thing is real, I mean no sun-bathing for us, that's why I'm so pale; and stay away from garlic because it makes us come out in blotches, and if you see somebody coming at you with a wooden stake, well just run like fuck; but apart from that, once I resurrect you, your life will just be about fucking and sucking!"

Ohh, a bright light!

"Ummm, so you and me will, you know ..."

"What?"

"Well you know, get together again?"

"Yeah," she smiled; "You're a ripper fuck Jimmy!"

She slipped her gown on then knelt over and kissed me on the cheek as she whispered; "See ya next full moon."

Then she glided away, and disappeared into the mist of the unknown.

I sighed.

I was in love, and I was also dead.

Fucking and sucking for the rest of eternity sounded kinda cool though, but then I let out an anguished gasp.

Damn!

I forgot to tell her that she won a free Quarter-pounder from one of the Scratchie's.

THE END
Dorkbrain!

You cash in the Scratchie's when you're in the freaking restaurant!

That guy is destined to be the dumbest fucking vampire ever!

I never seen a hot vampire chick, so I don't know whether I'd let a vampire bite me, see. All depends on her hotness, I guess.

Fucking and sucking for the rest of eternity would be a blast though, damn straight!

Anyway, I'm not getting much of a run here, because another story is coming.

# Jitterbugging with the Angels

By ten-thirty, she was ready for bed.

The day had been a busy one for Jessica Patrice Van Ouyen.

College took up all of the morning, then client number 11 spent the better part of an hour pawing her and eventually reaming her, then she had the opportunity to devote some serious time to the assignment.

Deep into her second year of the psychology course, Jessica knew that she was seriously hooked. To some, study was a chore, although to Jessica it was a journey.

By six she was preparing dinner, a risotto with lean chicken pieces. She always made enough for two nights, as cooking nightly had no appeal for her.

She then spent more than eighty minutes with her evening client, client number 6, the client, randy and explorative.

Client 6 was one of the few clients who took the time and effort to give her an orgasm, client 6 seeming to enjoy watching her blow out in breathless ecstasy as he worked her hard.

All day and night duties attended to satisfactorily, and Jessica snuggled into bed.

She slept well these days.

She remembered when she was in the psychiatric facility, she used to toss and turn every single night, sleep never coming easy, her mind a bouncing ball of confusion, she terrified of where she was, and even more terrified about what the future held for her.

Seven years at Lindus Heeling Psychiatric Facility; seven years in a 'nut-house' surrounded by crazy people.

She often reflected that not many people could do what she had done, not many people could spend seven years in a 'nut-house' and then have their future looking bright.

Jessica had done it though, and that was because she was motivated, committed and single-minded, her future clear in her mind, and nobody was going to stop her achieving her goals.

She had been released in June 1996, not into the general community, but into a half-way house run the Sisters of Nazarene.

By July of 1997, a middle-aged man had propositioned her, and she accepted the money and lay before him.

By the following year, she began her psychology course at the University of Maryland, determined to be the best student in the class.

And she was.

She could imagine some of her former Doctors at the nut-house talking about her over lunch; 'I hear Jess is doing well at UM.'

What they wouldn't be discussing was the other part of her life, the business part.

Eight clients a week now, mostly middle-aged men coming back for more, pawing, groping, ramming and reaming.

A potential client would often ask; 'How much?'

She would reply; 'Three bills good sir, three bills of happiness.'

Jessica began to dose, knowing that dreams might flutter in when sleep had captured her.

And they did.

Men in white coats in this dream, speaking to her, speaking at her; 'We believe you have some serious psychological issues Jessica.'

The men in white coats didn't scamper away when the men with the machine guns rushed into the dream, they just kinda faded away, although her image in the dream wished that they would stay; 'I don't like guns!'

An Indian Brave with a tomahawk or a knife strode into the dream too, the Indian Brave bold and decisive, although Jessica's image wanted to call out to him; 'Excuse me Indian man, don't be silly; they have guns!'

In the dream, Rod Stewart warbled to someone; 'Loosen up that pretty French gown, 'cause Tonight's the Night ...'

And the little Italian man in the silver vest played, he deep in concentration as he vigorously massaged the keys of the piano accordion, the little monkey seeming embarrassed, the monkey seeming to understand that he was nothing more than a visual prop, even though he had a mini piano accordion around his neck.

And he, the monkey had a bow-tie on.

Ohhhh, cute ...

Bruno was there too, Bruno the Russian Dancing Bear, a large ring through his nose, being led where the owner wanted him to go.

Jessica's image always felt sorry for Bruno, a once mighty beast reduced to this; 'Dance, dance for the nice audience Bruno!'

Bruno strutted his stuff, timid, awkward steps, his arms and paws extended like a preying mantis, the once mighty beast making small children laugh and clap, but the bear, the animal, sinking further into the mire.

A dozen Angels danced too, all of them pretty, which led Jessica's image to conclude that all Angels must be pretty; no plain Jane's in Heaven.

The dancing was lively, the Angels doing the Jitter-bug, their pretty faces showcasing a professional smile; 'See, I can smile and dance at the same time!'

In one of her recent dreams, the Angels did a Riverdance, and while the execution may have been questionable, the unbridled enthusiasm masked their lack of expertise.

An Angel smiled, the smile toothy and warm; 'Bit hard doing an Irish jig with these wings!'

A voice boomed over the PA; 'Insanity is, what sanity ain't!'

If the world was on fire, there would be lots of smoke, and maybe the Angels would cough rather than do the Jitter-bug.

The Italian man worked the keys of the piano accordion, and Jessica's image always wondered why Mike Oldfield didn't include the time-honoured instrument in his classic, Tubular Bells.

'Mr Oldfield, you included a glockenspiel, but not a piano accordion? Ten-year-old kids can play a piano accordion!'

Jessica's image thought that if she were a musical instrument in Tubular Bells, she would like to think of herself as the Grand Piano, but realistically, being a murderer and a former inmate at a psychiatric facility, maybe she was more like the slightly distorted guitar.

No matter though, for she was one.

One of the immortals.

Insanity is, what sanity ain't!

If the world burns, the Angels no dance.

But Bruno, he still dance, no choice really, and Jessica's image tosses a coin into the hat, more in sympathy than encouragement.

Jessica knew that one day they would call for her, and the biggest decision she would ever have to make would burn bright and brilliant before her eyes.

'You, budding Immortal, would you lay down your life for us?'

Despairing for Bruno and disappointed for the monkey, Jessica's image stood tall and proud, the question not really needing to be asked, for she wanted to Jitter-bug with the pretty Angels.

Men in white jackets considered her, men with money in their pockets and dicks in their hands ogled her, and the lady, the hovering lady floated into the dream.

An Angelic Being surely, smiling demurely, hovering, floating, an aura of celestial purity surrounding her; and everyone was silent, although the Italian man still played, his version of Tonight's the Night on the piano accordion, seeming to lack the sensuality of Mr Stewart's original; and the Angelic Being doth lend her gaze to Jessica's image, whispering; 'You, my child, are one of us; you are Nephilim.'

Everybody gazed at Jessica's image, even Bruno the bear; as the Angelic Being asked; 'You, budding Immortal, would you lay down your life for us?'

Jessica or Jessica's image had answered this question many times over the last few months, so sleeping Jessica knew what her answer would be; all the same, not a sound could be heard as everyone waited for the answer.

Jessica faced the Angelic Being and replied; 'I am unsure of the task which you wish me to undertake, but I believe you, I believe in you, so, yes, yes I would lay down my life for you.'

A cheer broke out, the Italian man now playing a lively polka, Rod Stewart still wanting the pretty French gown loosened, Bruno dancing again, this time enthusiasm displayed in his awkward steps.

The men in white jackets; 'You have some serious ...'

The men with money in pockets; 'You ready? I mean, we're ready!'

* * *

Jessica awoke at 7.20am, and her first activity of the new day was to do twenty minutes of Tai Chi stretching and balancing.

Next were the sit-ups, one hundred of them, pumped out a brisk tempo. The sit-ups were designed to work tummy, thighs and buttock, all the area's that could get away from you, although Jessica knew that with a rigorous work-out, she was their master.

The last exercise of her daily routine was one that belonged to her part-time profession, an added incentive to keep her regulars coming back; one hundred pelvic floors.

Her body was a temple, although access to the temple could be arranged by laying the bills down.

At the completion of her routine, Jessica curtsied, an acknowledgement of her dedication and commitment, then she headed for the shower.

She lifted her face to the warm water, pleased with life, pleased with herself, although her mind drifted to the dream of the previous night.

The dream was becoming too regular and too consistent to be ignored.

The same characters doing the same things, the same sequence of events, the same brave, final declaration.

An Angelic Being telling her image that she was one of them, she was Nephilim.

When she had first had the dream six months ago, she researched Nephilim, finding out that Nephilim were supposedly the offspring of Fallen Angels coupling with female humans.

She wished it was true; 'Do I know my family tree? Yes indeed, the first of my line was sired by a Fallen Angel!'

Jessica stepped out of the shower and began drying herself as she thought about the day in front of her.

Two classes at the College this morning and that was exciting, as the course was starting to bite into a few meaty issues, then at 2pm, client 11 would put his dress on and then ream her up the ass. She would probably get two hours of serious study and review, then by 6.00pm she would have to increase her liquid intake, because her evening client, number 7, always wanted her to piss on his face before she sucked him to orgasm.

As a second-year psychology student, both of this day's clients were intriguing.

'Client 11, put a dress on then fuck me up the ass? I dunno, have you considered the possibility that you may be bi-sexual?'

'Client 7, I just don't get it, I mean, I piss on your face and you get aroused? What the fuck?'

Jessica stared at her image in the mirror, thoughts tip-toeing through her mind; 'I might be Nephilim, I may be a budding Immortal; so fucking an Immortals ass is good, yeah? And like an Immortals piss is revitalising, yeah?'

The dream definitely needed further investigation.

Because it seemed flawed in so many ways.

Granted, if the Angelic Being asked Jessica to lay down her life for her, she probably would, because she really liked the Angelic Being.

But what, the world burning; like as in the Apocalypse?

Did the Angelic Being really think that she, Jessica, a murderer, a former psychiatric inmate, and now a diligent student and successful prostitute, could someone like her really prevent the Apocalypse from happening?

Jessica, determined, motivated and single-minded would definitely try to stop the world being burnt to ashes, because it would be a major buzz to appear on a prime-time chat show and hear the host introducing her; 'Ladies and gentlemen, here she is, the girl who saved us all from getting nuked, Ms Jessica Van Ouyen!'

Strange though, right at that moment, she didn't feel like an Immortal, she felt more like a slightly distorted guitar.

If they called for her though, she would respond, she would play her part, for she liked the Angelic Being, and ohhh, plus, she really wanted to Jitter-bug with the Angels.

THE END
What, huh?

I gotta comment on that?

Errr, what do I say?

I mean, What the fuck? springs to mind.

The dude writing this shit, I dunno, has he been checked out?

But wait, I like prostitutes okay, good-looking one's, although 'three bills'; is she like saying $300-? If she is, that's a bit steep baby.

Like you honour concession cards yeah? Discount for welfare dudes like me?

Or maybe I should just steer clear of crazy hookers, like I mean what the Hell is that dream about?

But I like chicks who look after their vag's; that's it honey, do your pelvic floors, tighten up for Johnny!

Next story has got two chick's names in the title, so even I'm gonna read this one.

# Sara (and Ashley)

"We're really in trouble this time, aren't we Ashley?" she asked timidly.

Large exhale.

"Listen Sara, we complete this one, we complete this mission, and we might just have a break for a while."

Little sigh.

"Oh really Ashley, are you serious?"

"Maybe we've done enough, maybe there's only a certain amount of times you should get called on to save the planet," she said as she rested her head back; "After we complete this mission, after we hand over the information, I think we'd be entitled to a long, long break."

"Ash, that would be good, because it's just getting too dangerous these days."

A moments silence.

"You're right Sara; maybe after this one, we might even retire gracefully, spend the rest of our days just chilling out."

The early afternoon sun filtered through the partially closed blinds.

* * *

Steven Elliot paced around the office, wondering how this could have happened.

He ran a hand ran through his hair, his brow furrowing.

Escaped? How could it be possible?

He was sure that the proverbial was going to hit the fan over this stuff up. And the consequences, what would they be, how far reaching would they be; and probably just as important, who or what was going to fall because of it.

* * *

"If we do come through it Ash, if we find our way through, I really don't want to do this anymore."

She could feel her anguish and uncertainty.

"It'll be the last one Sara, the last time." she sighed; "Maybe it's time for somebody else to put their life on the line; I think we've done our bit for the well-being of mankind."

"Well let's go, let's get it over and done with!" she gushed.

Another sigh; "We have to wait Sara, it's just too dangerous at the moment. We'll wait till nightfall and make our escape under the cover of darkness."

Sara noted the blood, and stared at it for a moment.

"You're okay aren't you Ash, I mean you'll be alright?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah," she rested her head back against the wall; "Yeah, I'll be fine."

The blood trickled in a little stream and ran into one of the folds in her blouse.

Sara closed her eyes and sighed, sounds and images from times well past, creeping into her mind;

You shouldn't have done that to me pappa!

* * *

Elliot sat at his desk, his hands pyramided in front of his chin.

He cast a glance at Kroeger, who had dismantled his gun, meticulously cleaning each piece.

"Can you put that bloody thing away!" Elliot snapped at him.

"Whoa there; just cleaning it; they don't clean themselves you know!"

Elliot buried his face in his hands, disappointed at himself for snapping, although he was acutely aware that the situation was getting to him, unhinging him.

Plenty of people were out searching for her, but where do you look, where do you start?

It shouldn't have happened but it did, he'd just have to accept it. She'd escaped and it was up to him to locate her; locate her before it was too late.

* * *

She sensed that the blood had upset and unsettled her.

"Hey Sara," she called quietly.

No answer.

"You remember when we were little, when all the bad things were happening," she paused for a moment; "And we saw that movie, Cat Ballou with Jane Fonda?"

Timidly; "Yes."

"Remember how Cat Ballou watched the bad guys destroy everything she held dear in her life, and she resolved that they would never make her cry?"

Slow nodding.

"Well maybe that's us Sar, maybe we've just got to be Cat Ballou again, just do our duty and never let them affect us."

The afternoon sun beamed through the front window now, heating up the front room of the house.

"As soon as it's dark, we'll be on our way, I promise."

A little sigh.

"Where to Ashley, where do we go? Half the planets probably looking for us by now."

She needed a moment to alter, then considered the question; "Well I think we just have to get out of here, catch a train somewhere, maybe out to the country, maybe try and locate some of our people, get them to put us up for a while."

"Ashley, we just have to get rid of it, we have to give the information to the authorities!" she exclaimed, her voice pitched high, her anxiety obvious.

"Sar, I'm not sure who to trust right at the moment, I mean I can't do anything until I'm sure about it."

"But Ashley, it's just getting too dangerous; get rid of it and let somebody else worry about it!"

Her hand slid through her hair; "You should know Sar, I take my job very seriously; I have to see it through to the end. I have to know that the right people are getting the information."

* * *

A few reported sightings had come in, and people had been sent to investigate them; but to no avail.

Missing, escaped.

'How does that sound on your resume?' Elliot pondered.

The phone rang and Kroeger picked it up quickly.

"Uh huh," he grunted, "Okay, uh huh."

Elliot moved closer to him, his anticipation rising.

"Uh huh, okay, thanks."

Kroeger hung up the phone and immediately went about reassembling his gun.

"Well?" Elliot questioned.

"Huh? Oh, you can cross that Westmeadows sighting off your list."

"Damn!" he cursed, as he began to pace again, his mind in a whirl; 'What damage can she cause?'

Well maybe not her, he wasn't particularly worried about Sara; it was the other one he was concerned about.

* * *

"Once it's dark, we'll head to the station, there's people down on the coast who'll look after us."

Her head bowed in resignation; "We're not going to make it through, I know it; it's just hopeless."

"Sara once we're on a train to the coast, we'll be halfway home." she replied as she rested her head back against the wall; "These people will look after us, and from there I can make some calls and organise things. I must admit I'm a little bit confused myself, not sure who to trust, not even sure who's on our side anymore," and she tried to smile; "But we'll get through it Sara, you have to believe that we will!"

She sensed that Sara needed all the support and encouragement that she could muster, because it appeared that she was slowly unravelling, falling to pieces bit by bit.

"Honey, we've always survived because we've always had each other, the most important thing is that we're still together, despite all the efforts to separate us. Never forget that Sara, from each other we draw strength."

Head still bowed, aware of the bowed head.

"When all the bad things were happening when we were little, we got through because of each other, it's the same now Sar; just remember, They'll never make us cry!"

Sara noted the blood had trickled down the blouse and onto her jeans.

"Are you sure you're okay Ash?" she asked quietly.

Eyes closed, slow nodding.

She pushed up slightly, encumbered by the body, and peered out the window.

"I'm really scared Ashley."

She could feel the tears welling, and she tried to set up the barriers, blinking hard.

Dangling by a thread, she prayed for freedom, sought salvation, knowing that it was up to her, it was all up to her.

'Am I stronger?'

Her eyes closed again, the sounds and images from a dark past slowly seeping back into her mind, causing her to wince.

You shouldn't have done that to me pappa!

* * *

Janie Olson skipped down the corridor, invigorated, knowing that this was important. She turned into Elliot's office, noting the forlorn look on his face as she entered, Kroeger sitting at a desk playing with his gun.

"Steven!" she called excitedly; "Think I've got something!"

Elliot remained seated as she strode purposefully towards his desk.

"I rang the prison, thought I'd try and speak to someone who could go through the visitor records for the last few days, you know, on the off chance that'd she'd gone to see her father, and believe it or not, he was released six weeks ago!"

Elliot's jaw dropped; "Released?"

"Six weeks ago Steven, can't believe it myself, but yeah."

"But he's on the sexual offenders list, don't they have to notify us?" he asked, the disbelief evident in his tone.

"Well I would've assumed so," she said as she placed her hands on his desk, holding his gaze; "But the important thing is that I rang the Office of Corrections and requested his address, and well they just have to go through their normal procedures, and I'm expecting them to ring back shortly."

He was looking straight at her, or maybe through her; a million things running through his mind.

"Well I'll let you know." she said finally.

"Huh?" he snapped back to reality.

"I'll let you know when I get the address."

"Oh sure Janie, yeah thanks."

She strode out of the room, casting a glance at Kroeger; "Can't you leave that thing alone?"

'Her father's address?' Elliot pondered; 'Breakthrough?'

Thinking of her father soured his thoughts.

The animal who had ruined her life.

'Six years for destroying a life?'

He could clearly visualise her; her demeanour placid, almost subservient, her sad eyes fully reflective of the hell she had been through. He had been making solid progress with her, of that he was certain. He had worked hard to try and lead her into the real world, and he was certain that she wanted to follow him, certain that she trusted him to lead her through. Subtly he had tried to convince her that she no longer needed the other one, that she was intelligent and courageous enough to stand by herself.

And he had been making progress, she was growing, developing, becoming more confident, more self-assured; until this.

He cursed her father, and her mother as well.

In his opinion she was just as responsible as he was. She had known about it the whole time, and had turned a blind eye.

"Some people." he muttered.

Take a life, a precious life, and then smash it to pieces, leaving it up to people like him to try and put it back together again, piece by piece.

* * *

The sun was slowly setting, traffic beginning to build, noise and activity increasing.

"Now Ash?" she asked quietly.

Large exhale.

"Nightfall Sara, nightfall."

Sara listened to the sounds of the late afternoon, thinking of her doctor.

He had been working with her, working on her, advising her that she was an individual, that she was a single entity, and to begin the long road to recovery, she needed to accept who she was.

"He says, you know, maybe it's time, you know, you and me." Sara said, her voice barely a whisper.

She pushed herself up a little straighter; "Sara honey, he doesn't look after you, I do!"

Head bowed.

"But he says, well, maybe I need to face things by myself, try and stand on my own two feet."

Sigh, regathering, altering; "Sara I've always looked out for you because nobody else ever would!" she exclaimed, unintentionally brushing her hand over her jeans, smearing it with blood; "I was the only one who helped you when the bad things were happening; I was the only one!"

Sara stared out the window, noting that the streetlights had come on.

"Sar, Sara; we're a team, and don't let anybody ever tell you that we're not!"

She noted that the stream of blood had channelled down the folds of her jeans across her left thigh, and was dripping a drop at a time onto the floor.

Sara wiped some of the blood from her fingers, grimacing, trying to hold firm as the bad things refused to go away.

You shouldn't have done that to me pappa!

* * *

Janie Olson came tearing into his office, waving a piece of paper; "Steven, I have it, the address!"

In an instant, he was out of his seat, reaching for the paper; "God!"

He stared at it, as if it was the solution to all the world's problems, stood there holding it, staring at it.

Olson prompted him; "Uh Steven, maybe you should go."

He looked up at her, then back to the paper; "Oh yeah, yeah of course; Kroeger!"

The two men strode quickly out of the office, Kroeger slipping the gun in to his holster, when Elliot turned back and smiled sheepishly at Olsen.

"Umm Janie, I don't know what I do without you!" he said.

"Go, just go!" she exclaimed, shooing him away.

The men fairly bolted down the stairs, pushed through the door and made a beeline for Kroeger's car.

Both buckled up, Kroeger revving the engine, then taking off, the tyres squealing as he sped away.

Elliot assumed that this could be another false lead, and there was every likelihood that the girl wouldn't be there and nothing would come from this. But at the very least it would give him the opportunity to glare at her father and make him feel the contempt he held for him.

* * *

The blood continued to drip, Ashley fighting for survival on all fronts.

'If she lets me go, I cease to exist ...'

She sang the tune from, Cat Ballou; "They would never make her cry ..."

* * *

Kroeger spoke rapidly on the two-way, letting them know where they were headed, Elliot hopeful but guarded; 'Please be there!'

Although the more he thought about it, the less convinced he became.

'Why on Earth would she go there? He's the last person on the planet Sara would want to see!'

His thoughts turned to the other one; 'Unless of course, Ashley has decided ...'

"Can't you go any faster Kroeger!" Elliot urged.

* * *

"Hey Ash,"

"Yeah?"

She cast a glance out the window; "It's nightfall."

Silence for a moment, Sara bowing her head as she pondered; 'Am I stronger?'

She breathed silently for a few moments, trying to compose herself, knowing that this was it, she had to try.

"Is it okay if I don't come with you Ash," she almost whispered; "I mean will you be alright?"

"Huh?"

She drew in a breath then said shakily; "Ash I think it's time, I think it's time for me to move on."

"But Sara, you and me ..."

"Ash I think it's time that I started trying to stand on my own two feet, started trying to help myself get better."

"Sara, honey, that's my job, that's what I do; I help you get through!"

Sara closed her eyes as she whispered; "Ash I have a few nightmares that I'm probably going to have forever, and maybe running away from them, hiding from them is the wrong way to deal with it," she stretched both arms into the air, a few drops of blood falling from the raised knife; "I, I think it's time to confront my demons Ash."

"But Sar, you and me ..." she stopped in mid-sentence as she heard a car screech to a halt, heard two doors opening then slamming shut.

Sara, panicky now, isolated; "I won't forget you Ash, ever. Whenever it's getting too much to deal with, I'll think of you and Jane Fonda and Cat Ballou, and maybe well, that might just help me get through."

Footsteps galloped down the pathway, loud knocking at the door, then the door crashing open.

Elliot peered in, Kroeger jumping in with his drawn, then quickly training it on the girl sitting in the corner.

She looked up at them, the battle raging in her mind, Ashley holding on for dear life.

"Put the gun away." Elliot whispered to Kroeger.

"You do your job, I'll do mine!" he exclaimed, the gun aimed at her temple.

Elliot moved over cautiously, squatting within a couple of feet of the girl.

"Sara?" he asked hopefully.

Her eyes were wide, frightened, but slowly they began to change, narrowing and veiling.

"Sara?" he asked quietly again.

A little smirk appeared as she asked; "Steven, how are you?"

For a moment Elliot's face fell into his right hand as he sighed, then he repositioned himself, kneeling on his right knee; "I'd like to speak to Sara if I can."

The smirk remained; "I'm afraid I'll have to do Steven."

Elliot cast a glance over his shoulder, Kroeger still with gun poised.

"Actually, I really need to speak to Sara, it's very important."

"You mean there's something you can tell her, but not me?"

Elliot held onto her gaze, watching for signs; "Can I please speak to Sara?"

She stared back, the smirk having been replaced by a look of contentment.

"You're too late Steven, my people already have the information."

Bowing his head, he ran a hand over his temple, looking back up slowly; "There's no information, you know that, you do."

"My, you are an ungracious loser," she smiled; "To the victor go the spoils, and mankind rejoices!"

Elliot rested a hand on her knee; "There hasn't been any mission, you haven't saved mankind again, but let me speak to Sara, let me speak to her so I can discuss it with her."

She never released his gaze, her eyes narrowing ever further; "You've never liked me, have you?"

"It's not that, my only objective has been to help Sara."

"Well what the hell do you think I've been doing all these years?" she replied, frustration in her voice.

"I've been trying to help her in practical ways, I've been trying to make her whole again, you know that." Elliot said, trying hard to keep the tension out of his tone.

"But where were you," she whispered; "When the bad things were happening? Where was anybody? I was the only one, I helped her get through!" she moaned, her eyes misting over, her voice reducing with emotion.

Elliot had never seen this before, had never seen such an open display of emotion from her. Normally she presented herself as confident, self-assured and dominant.

"Where were you?" she whispered again, a solitary tear trickling down her cheek.

He moved in close to her, clasping her left hand in both of his; "I'm sorry Ashley, I am sorry; you have helped all the way, right from the very start, but," he squeezed her hand a little tighter; "Can I please speak to her?"

Her lips quivered as she timidly looked up at him; "I, I don't think she wants me around anymore."

"Ashley it's not that," he tried to speak reassuringly; "It's not that at all. I think she just wants to let you know that you've done your job, there's nothing more you can do."

"But Steven, we're a team, me and Sara." she said in a fragile voice.

"You've been a great help, the best friend she's ever had Ash, but your job is done, time to let people like me take over."

"But me, what happens to me?" her voice now on the point of breaking.

"Lots of people need help Ashley, you'll find someone else who needs you."

They looked into each other's eyes, hers slowly filling with tears.

"Can I speak to her Ashley, can I speak to Sara?"

She bowed her head and sobbed, Elliot gently running a hand through her hair.

After a few minutes, she lifted her gaze and looked at him sheepishly, asking timidly; "Dr.Elliot?"

"Sara?"

She looked over at Kroeger who still had the gun pointed at her temple, then back to Elliot.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

Relief washed over him; "We've been looking for you Sara, we were getting a bit worried about you."

"It was okay Dr.Elliot," she smiled; "Ash was looking after me."

The gentle eyes looked into his, and his heart sank; 'What a life you've had, you poor little creature.'

"Kroeger," Elliot motioned to the officer; "Let's get him off!"

Clumsily they lifted the dead man off Sara's lap and lay him down near the door. Elliot assumed he was dead, his throat having been cut from ear to ear, his blood having drenched her blouse and jeans.

'May have got what you deserved!' he thought to himself, and then went and knelt next to the girl again.

"Officer Kroeger, the knife, what do you want to do with the knife?"

Kroeger slipped his gun back into the holster and knelt beside Elliot, unfolding his handkerchief and wrapping it around the handle.

"You can let go now honey." Kroeger said quietly.

Sara looked at him then back to Elliot, who was nodding; "You can let it go Sara."

Another police car had arrived, the two officers bolting up to the front door to be greeted by Kroeger and the wrapped knife.

"Evidence bag, somebody get me an evidence bag!"

Elliot helped her get to her feet and supported her.

"We'll get you cleaned up Sara, then we'll go back to the hospital; we've got lots to talk about."

"Guess we have." she said, bowing her head.

"You, me and yeah, maybe even Ashley."

'Am I stronger?' she pondered, as she closed her eyes, her fists clenching at her sides.

She drew in a breath then looked up at him; "Ash is going away Dr.Elliot; didn't she tell you?"

"Umm not everything Sara; where is she going?"

She held his gaze, which was unusual for her; "Ash completed her final mission, and I think she's going to retire somewhere on the coast."

They heard the siren, then another vehicle screeched to a halt, moments later two paramedics raced in and stood over the body.

"Good for her, bet you're going to miss her." Elliot smiled as he pushed a few strands of hair off her face.

"Yeah I guess, but," Sara looked over to where the paramedics had unfolded a trolley, and were in the process of lifting the dead man on to it; "She completed her final mission Dr.Elliot, so I think she's free."

'She killed a man is what she did!' he thought to himself.

Elliot stood and faced her for a moment, wondering; 'Have I dealt with Ashley for the last time, has she drifted out of Sara's life?'

Ashley had been born out of necessity, created to help a frightened six-year-old trudge through the murky waters of things she neither understood or had control over. She had provided Sara with the strength and courage to continue on through her nightmarish early years, and ever since, she was always available to help Sara stumble through, although being the shield and the protector in her confused mind, Ashley had grown alarmingly, to the point where she threatened to become the dominant part of her personality.

Ashley had been her beacon in the storm, but had Sara bid her farewell for the last time?

Elliot knew that he had a long, hard road ahead of him with this fragile young girl, but maybe the biggest step had already been taken.

And Sara had taken it herself, farewelling Ashley, her friend, confidant and protector.

Noting that she was shivering, Elliot wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, then guided her out into the yard, the ambulance and two police cars still with lights flashing.

Elliot and Sara watched as the paramedics slid the trolley into the back of the ambulance, the body on the trolley fully sheeted.

Elliot held her around the shoulders and felt her head resting into him.

"I don't have any sympathy for him Sara; he was a dreadful man." Elliot stated.

Sara nestled closer into him.

"I can understand why Ashley killed him." Elliot said.

"Ashley didn't kill him Dr.Elliot," Sara whispered as she looked up at him; "I did."

Sara watched as an officer closed the rear doors of the ambulance, her mind skipping back to the nightmare of her childhood.

You shouldn't have done that to me papa ...

THE END
Okay, well yeah, like fuck psycho chicks!

No wait, maybe that didn't come out right; I mean I'd like to fuck a psycho chick!

Could you imagine it?

I mean you could tell them anything yeah, and they wouldn't know shit! I mean you could go to the psycho chick, 'Oh come on, you promised that you'd suck me off!

And she'd be going, Did I, did I?

And you could go yeah, well it was either you or one of your other personalities, so come on, open your mouth!

But yeah anyway's, psychological problems, I've never had any, I mean I suppose I'm just sane and balanced yeah.

Although maybe when I was a kid, I did have a bit of a phobia. I used to call it Roadrunner-phobia. And yeah, it was about the cartoon chicken like character. But mind you, I was a kid, like a little kid about eight or nine or something, or seven maybe. And it wasn't a stupid phobia, like I didn't idolise the stupid little chicken thing or anything, no, far from it.

I was just scared shitless of it.

Not the cartoon chicken thing either, I wasn't scared of that, I was scared of the Roadrunner in my dreams, or nightmares.

Mind you I was only eight or nine or seven or whatever, but for a while there I was terrified of going to sleep, because this little bastard would hunt me down in my dreams and sneak up behind me and go Beep! Beep! or whatever the fuck it was that he said. And he used to eat me or kill me or something, so when I used to watch the Roadrunner cartoon, I was the only kid I knew who barracked for the coyote.

But I hated him too, the dumb fucking coyote. Like he's supposedly got all this money, enough money to buy rocket launchers and trucks and all kinds of shit; and I used to think, how come he's got an unlimited supply of money when he seems so dumb!

And one time I screamed at him, screamed at the TV screen; because I kinda remember the nightmares were really freaking me out yeah, so I yelled at the dumb coyote; Hey stupid, use some of your money to hire a professional hitman for Chrissakes; they never miss! But no, the little chicken fucker always got away, another episode, another nightmare, and I was really starting to fray at the edges, and I'm sure if during those nightmarish days of my youth, if someone had of called around to my place wearing a Roadrunner costume, I would have had a nervous breakdown.

But I'm over it now, like I mean I'm 24 for Chrissakes, of course I'm over it!

Although I don't think I'll ever watch any of the re-runs, not that I'm scared or anything, because I'm not; but you know, let sleeping dogs lie, yeah that's it, let sleeping dogs lie and let beeping Roadrunner's beep!

Anyway, fuck the Roadrunner, but last word, last word; I mean the dumb coyote's got all this money, yeah, so why the fuck doesn't he just go down to KFC and buy the Value Bucket huh? I mean if the dumb coyote is hungry, maybe buy the Value Bucket instead of buying a freaking rocket launcher!

Anyway, cartoons are for kids, ohh, except for Family Guy and The Simpsons, ohh and maybe a few others too.

Speaking of cartoons though, I remember one time down at Christie's, one of the boy's, Marco, he was talking about having bought that animated/live action movie called, Who Framed Rodger Rabbit? on DVD, and anyway's we were thinking Yeah, yeah whatever! But Marco goes, oh, the film was alright, but I bought it because I'm in love with Jessica Rabbit!

Pickle my pecker!

I'm thinking okay, being is love with a cartoon character was weird, but telling the boys about it was just down right stupid!

Saying that you're in love with a cartoon character is what you'd expect Nerds or Geeks to say, you know the kind, the kind of Nerds who play computer games against each other; 'Excuse me Peabody, but before I blast your battalion into Sector Four of Orbitron, I would just like to tell you that I'm in love with Jessica Rabbit!'

But Marco? Fuck me, the boys were giving it to him for weeks, and at one stage Davie bought Marco a set of rabbit ears, because as he said; 'Jessica seems to like her men a bit rabbity!'

And it's okay to like a cartoon character, but fall in love with them, you shitting me!

Everybody likes some cartoon characters, even me.

My favourite is Lois from Family Guy, she's better than any psycho Roadrunner or dumb-arse coyote; Lois is cool, easily my favourite.

Not that I'd ever tell the boys that; ohh mind you, I wouldn't be scared that they'd start ribbing me or anything, no, course not; just that some things are personal, and like my feelings about Lois come into that category.

Mind you, I'm not in love with her, I mean shut the fuck up!

No, course I'm not in love with a cartoon character, what, ya think I'm a weirdo or something?

Nah, I just want to slam her is all.

Not that I'd tell any of the boy's see, because you know, personal shit is like personal, okay.

But I don't see it as strange, wanting to have sex with a cartoon character; like if I was being totally honest, I'd actually slam Jessica Rabbit too, I mean like Ultimate-Wham-Bam-Slam her, because she's way hot!

But Lois is my first choice, and I don't think it's strange or sick or anything, because I'm not talking about a relationship, I'm just talking about sex.

Although I have to be honest, I can't understand why someone like her ever got hooked up with a dummy like Peter.

Brian would've been a better choice Lois, you know, Brian the dog.

Brian ended up going out with a chick on the show, so I dunno, maybe bestiality isn't illegal in Cartoon-land.

# Interview With the Devil

The TV show host seemed over-awed; "So you're really the devil; you're Satan?"

"Yes I am; I am the Supreme Being."

"I don't want to upset you, but some of us on this planet think of God as the Supreme Being."

"Well yes, she is also a-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but God is a she?"

"Well yes she is."

"So God is a female and the Devil is a male?"

"Obviously."

"So a female God is fighting a male Devil?"

"Ummm, we're not actually fighting."

"Ohhh, I thought this was about Good fighting Evil for the control of humanity?"

"That is very much a misconception."

"Please explain."

"We're not fighting one another, we're just having a, you know, trial separation."

"Trial separation? Does that mean that you were once together?"

"Obviously."

"I think you've just re-written the history books! Although I can't get my mind around this; God and the Devil were once partners?"

"I did mention that it was a trial separation, didn't I?"

"By that, you're suggesting that you'll get back together?"

"I think it will happen, yes."

"What caused the separation, if you don't mind me asking?"

"She stuffed something up and she's been a pain in the back-side ever since."

"What did she, urrr, God, stuff up?"

"Well we were just dicking around for a couple of hundred billion years, you know, creating solar systems and stuff, but we were getting bored and we wanted to find something to excite ourselves."

"Creating solar systems? The Big Bang Theory is the generally accepted version of how this solar system began."

"What is the theory?"

"That a microscopic atom exploded, and atoms kept exploding over billions of years to create the solar system."

"Reasonable I guess; but question if I may; where do you think the atoms came from?"

"I don't know."

"They were mine."

"So you created this solar system?"

"Between Yahweh and myself, we've created thirty-six solar systems."

"Yahweh?"

"Ummm, Yahweh, or God as you call her, but I call her Yah."

"Okay, but getting back to the major point, why did you separate?"

"About ten thousand years ago, we started discussing things that could excite and invigorate us, and we thought it may be fun to change our appearance, you know, shape shift, because back in the day, Yah and me were just atom's as well, rather large atoms obviously."

"Wow! So you changed to human form?"

"We pretty much tried everything, you know, insects, birds, fish, dinosaurs, but the human form is the one that suits us best."

"Okay, well I'm still not sure why you separated."

"Originally, our human forms didn't have any genitalia, so we still lacked the excitement we were looking for. I spoke to a few of the technical boys in the lab, asking them to try and come up with something so that Yah and me could become, you know, more intimate. Of course, Yah thought she knew everything, and she gave a few designs to the tech boys and they went to work on them."

"What kind of designs?"

"Well being of human form and having hands, Yah thought that for her genitalia, she would like something she could stick her fingers in and tickle and tease, and the tech boys came up with the naturale eius debent."

"What?"

"Well, what you call the vagina."

"Okay, do go on."

"Yah was happy with the cavity, although she felt that it needed a centrepiece, something that she could touch and it would ignite all of her senses."

"So she invented the clitoris?"

"Yes she did, and I must have spent hundreds of years tickling and teasing her. I was pleased with the design, and I would've liked a naturale eius debent myself, but of course the whole point was to become closer to one another, so I realised that I needed something that I could put into her naturale eius debent."

"So you designed the penis?"

"I gave a few suggestions to the tech boys, and they designed a stiff penis, and for a while it was okay, you know, sliding in and out of her whenever I wanted to, but the original design didn't go off."

"You mean it didn't ejaculate?"

"Exactly, so Yah was having more fun than me, she screaming the Heavens down on a regular basis, while I was left with this perpetually stiff projectile. After much trial and error, the tech boys invented the flaccid penis, which when stroked, erected, with blood and fluid swelling its chamber."

"So you could ejaculate now?"

"Yes, it was a lot of fun."

"Well, you're both happy now, so why did you separate?"

"We had ninety-two Angels in Heaven, and we gave them the choice; do you want a natural eius debent or a penis. The Angels were intrigued with the functions of my penis, so ninety-one of them picked a penis, while one only of them picked a natural eius debent. For a while it was okay, and Yah and the odd-Angel out, whose name was Prostituti, lay before us, but of course, they each had to take on forty-six of us. Everybody was having a great time, although me and the boys were having so much fun, by the time the forty-sixth Angel had ejaculated, the first one was ready to go again. Yah was becoming increasingly restless, because she wasn't getting any work done, you know, no new solar systems or anything, plus she was getting a bit jealous too. She demanded that the tech boys change her naturale eius debent to a penis, but I said no way sister, you're staying just the way you are! She was sulky and moody and she wanted to deprive us, so she invented the headache. Me and the boys would eagerly hunker around her, but she started going, Fuck off, I've got a headache! So she sulked for about four thousand years, and me and the boys all had to off-load onto poor old Prostituti. One day I went looking for Yah, and I found her creating animals that could set off her naturale eius debent. Eventually she created an animal that could set her off, and I didn't see her for about two thousand years.

"What was the animal?"

"Yah called it the AHH, AHH, ARRRHHH!"

"Never heard of it; is it extinct now?"

"Indeed not, I think your type call it the Anteater."

"Ohhh, so God, our God had an Anteater going down on her?"

"Yes, on a very regular basis."

"Wow, this is incredible!"

"Not everything went smoothly though, for if you create an animal, you must also create a food source to sustain that animal, and with the AHH, AHH, ARRRHHH's dying of starvation all over the place, Yah had to create a food source for them."

"So she created ants?"

"Indeed she did, and I give credit where it is due, Yah has always been a forward thinker, so she began placing the ants on her naturale eius debent, and of course the AHH, AHH, ARRRHHH's attacked her with a little more vigour, which was much to her liking. It wasn't all smooth sailing at the start though, because the ants would disperse as soon as she placed them on her naturale eius debent, so she then invented pubic hair to lock the ants in."

"Ohh, I thought the function of pubic hair was to absorb sweat?"

"Its original purpose was to trap the ants."

"Okay, but I still don't think you explained why you separated."

"Oh yes; well by this time on Earth, the human race was in full swing, and while waiting for their turn to mount Prostituti, a few Angels would gaze down to Earth and look at the young lasses. Being in the same shape and form as Yah and Prostituti, the Angels were attracted to the lasses, and I guess by this stage, we were all tiring of Prostituti, so a mischievous Angel called Azazael, he doth descend to the Earth, and the young lasses were besotted with him, you know, Here he comes, the Angel from the Heavens! Azazael was just as besotted, and he came back with stories that had us all curious; 'The little bitches will let me do anything man, you know, doggy-style, anal, oral; it's a freaking free-for-all!' So we all kinda snuck down to Earth and rammed and reamed, but one time when I got back, Yah was waiting for me. She looked mighty pissed with her hands on her hips and her right foot tapping impatiently, and she asked; 'Where have you been?' Maybe I just looked guilty, because she roared at me; 'You been fucking those little Skanks on Earth?' So yeah, we had a rip-roaring fight, and she screamed at me; 'Get out, get out of my Heaven!' So me and twenty-four Angels got banished to Earth, and Yah has got a temper, so, well you probably heard about it, she also chained me in the fires of Hell for a thousand years which was a bit of a bummer."

"Okay, well obviously you got out of Hell; is that when you tempted Jesus out in the desert, offered him food and drink if he pledged allegiance to you?"

"Tempted him? Boy, has that story been beaten up over the years! I never tempted him, he was my son for Godsakes! He was wandering around in the desert for days, and I just said, You look hungry and thirsty, eat and drink."

"So Jesus is your son?"

"Well, maybe do the math."

"Sorry?"

"Yah has a naturale eius debent and I have a penis; Yah was in Heaven getting her naturale eius debent licked by an anteater, and I was on Earth; who is more likely to be the father?"

"Incredible! Was Jesus created to teach humans to love and obey God?"

"Yes. For all her faults, I love Yah and I was missing her, so the reason I potted that nice lady was to produce a son who would tell the masses to love and obey the one true God. Yah can be full of herself, so I presumed that if she could see that I had the masses worshipping before her and calling her a deity, she'd let me come back in to Heaven."

"Obviously it hasn't worked out that way."

"No, but she's coming around, slowly."

"So you think that you will get back together?"

"Yes I do. Yah popped down to see me recently, and we spent two very romantic nights in Rio."

"That's good news."

"Yes indeed, and she'll probably come down again."

"She liked Rio?"

"No, she liked the anteaters."

THE END
Freaking anteaters?

I'll lick ya puss God! You know, if you really are a chick.

Come on down, I'll meet you in Rio ... arrhh, actually, bit tight at the moment, maybe we should just meet at Christie's.

Is God real though? I guess only dead people know the answer to that.

I never been real religious, but one day I'm hoping to start up my own religious cult.

It would be pretty basic and the rules would be simple;

• Entry available only to chicks under thirty.

• Every chick has to give me all their money and worldly possessions. (I guess good-looking older chicks with lots of worldly possessions can join too.)

• Ohh plus, good-looking female cartoon characters can join too (that means you, Lois and Jessica!)

• It would be like a nudist camp, no clothes.

• I'm like the leader see, and all the chick's gotta do is worship before me and gobble me.

• A couple of the chicks need to be able to cook.

• All members (chicks) to be on the pill. Don't want any little Johnnies running around.

So Lois and Jessica Rabbit, youse get a personal invitation to join my cult, okay.

Been dying to see Jessica Rabbit naked.

# Versatile Words

English teacher Rosalee Clayton addressed the class; "I would like you all to hand in your essays at the end of the class, but I thought we might listen to few; would anybody like to read their essay out?"

Ms Clayton was greeted by total silence, and gazed around the class; "Anybody?"

Alison raised her hand.

"Thank-you Alison, up to the front if you will."

"No, I'm not offering, get Thomas to read hers." Alison stated.

"You mean Taylene."

"Yeah."

"Well Taylene always seems to be the person who read hers, but this is an opportunity for anybody or everybody to take the floor."

"I don't mean to be rude Ms Clayton, but it was a really boring topic for an essay, so I think we should do something else," Alison replied; "Ohh, but make Thomas read hers out."

Ms Clayton was disappointed that nobody else wanted to step up to the plate, although she was always happy to hear from her star pupil; "Taylene, would you like to read yours out?"

Taylene stood; "I guess so Ms Clayton, but you know how they put that sticker over CD's that says; this CD contains language that may offend?"

"Hmmm."

"I would like to apply that sticker to this piece I've written."

Ms Clayton went and sat in her seat as she said; "Could you come up here please."

Taylene strolled up, feeling very important. She knew that Ms Rosalee Clayton understood that she was the standout student in this class, and she actually felt that Ms Clayton liked her. Also, Ms Clayton was a nurturing teacher, always encouraging her students to blossom and expand. And she was probably one of the only people on the planet who would allow her to read out this essay.

"What's the piece about?"

Taylene leant in close and whispered; "The assignment was to search for and then explain the many functions of versatile words, and I feel I have located possibly the most versatile word in the English language."

"What's the word?"

The word was in the heading, and Taylene pointed to it.

Ms Clayton sat back as she ran it through her mind. Taylene Thomas was the brightest English student she had ever come across. She had respect for the language and all its subtleties, and she wrote with flair and imagination, while her essays were always entertaining.

But this could be something else again.

Ms Clayton read the page then leant back, her gaze settling on the girl.

"Is this piece simply for shock value Taylene?"

"Indeed not Ms Clayton; the word is almost like a young, female, Chinese gymnast, so versatile and flexible, and I wrote this to display all its manoeuvres."

"Hmmm, you do understand that you'll be presenting your case to sixteen and seventeen-year-olds, who I would suggest, are more likely to giggle and snigger, rather than scrutinize your essay?"

"I'm not trying to impress them Ms Clayton, I'm trying to impress you."

Ms Clayton leant back in her chair and pondered.

She remembered the time she had tried to inspire the class; 'Let your imagination run wild, be bold, be daring, become a writer who pushes the boundaries!'

Her star pupil had obviously taken that on board, because she did let her imagination run wild, although she didn't tend to push the boundaries, she simply ignored them. The thought ran across her mind that if she let Taylene read this piece, she herself might get called into the Principals office; 'You let a student read this out?'

Rosalee Clayton weighed up and the positive and negatives, then decided that she actually liked teaching at this school.

She addressed the class; "Maybe we'll skip the reading out of essays today, instead I want a quick ten-minute essay on what you watched on TV last night, and what you liked about it."

The class groaned, and Ms Clayton knew it was partially because the lazy little sods didn't feel like working, but they mainly groaned because they were deprived of hearing another essay from their favourite storyteller.

Ms Clayton wasn't going to deprive herself though, as she read the essay again.

Good morning class. I have located a word that I believe is close to being the most versatile and flexible word in the English language. The word can be used as a noun, an adjective, a verb, a pronoun, while it can also be used as a prefix, a suffix or in in-fix, and can also be used as an intensifier or a curse. The word is fuck.

The origins of the word are not clearly known, so for the sake of this essay, I'll lay the credit with Mr Edward Johnson of Sussex, England, and say that he invented the word in 1325. Thank-you Mr Johnson for supplying us with a word that can showcase so many emotions. The word fuck can show rage, despair, delight and surprise, and can be used in even the most boring of sentences. The phrase, What the fuck? is only a three-word sentence, but fuck is the centrepiece and the most dominant word in the phrase.

As a noun, we would use the word as such, You stupid fuck!

As an adjective, we would use the word like, He's a fucked individual.

As a verb, we would use the word like, Hey mom, were you and dad fucking last night?

I believe Mr Johnson invented the word to be used for its sexual derivations, like, Hey mister, you wanta fuck? or, Does that girl fuck? or, Hooo, babe, you're a ripper fuck!

The word though, has grown its own legs and walked into every facet of our language. Take the word fuck and add a prefix, and you come up with a variety of naughty words such as mother-fucker, non-fuck or un-fuck. We can use all of those examples in a single sentence like so; That mother-fucker fucked me, and even though it was like a non-fuck, I can't make him un-fuck me.

Add a suffix, and the word spreads its wings, with words such as, fucker, fucked, fucking, fuckwit, and fuckable.

Again, we can place those five examples into a single sentence; That fucker was a fuckwit, but he called me fuckable, so we ended up fucking, and by the end, I was totally fucked.

The word can also be used as an in-fix, like; in-fucking-credible! or, un-fucking-believable!

Our European and South American friends have also adopted the word; the French translation being 'Baiser', the Italian translation being 'Fottere', the German translation is 'Ficken' which I quite like; the Spanish translation is, 'Carajo or Joderse', and the Swedish have various translations, 'Knull, Samlag or Ligg'. I'm not sold on the Swedish translations though, because I couldn't see myself approaching a cute Swedish blondie and going, Excuse me mister, would you like a ligg? Or, Hey mister, you're a stupid knull-head! As well, What the FUCK in Swedish becomes, What the SAMLAG? And to me, it just doesn't have the same impact.

With the help of prefixes and suffixes, we can use the word as a noun and a verb in the same sentence, like so; Dad, you're a mother-fucker, because you're fucking my mother! We can also use it as a noun, adjective and verb in a single sentence, while also incorporating suffixes; That little fucker is so fucked, because I saw him fucking that fucked-up bitch!

How versatile is this word? Let me show you.

A man shows surprise; What the fuck?

A man shows disgust; You stupid fucker!

A man is unwell; I'm so fucked up!

A man makes a mistake; I really fucked up!

A man brags; I fucked her good and proper!

A man haggles; How much for a fuck?

A man is angry; You fucker, you fucked me, so now I'm going to fuck you and ruin your whole fucking day!

A man is irate; What's this fucking thing? I ordered a hamburger, not this fucked up, mother-fucker piece of crap, you stupid fuckhead!

A Swedish man is also irate; What's this knulling thing? I ordered a hamburger, not this samlagged up, mother-ligg piece of crap, you stupid samlag-head!

The German shop-keeper is offended and replies; Look you mother-ficken, get the ficken out of my shop or I will beat the ficken out of you, you ficken-head!

The Swedish girl asked of her mother; You look really liggable, are you and dad samlagging tonight?

The mother sighed and said; Knull no, I'm too ligged.

The word fuck is also user friendly, and rhymes with a myriad of words; luck, duck, buck, suck, truck and so on.

Maybe a few nursery rhymes could be updated to incorporate the word;

Jack and Jill went up a mother-fucker of a hill,

To fetch a pail of fucking water,

Fucked-up Jack came down, and broke his fucking crown,

And the very fuckable Jill, came tumbling after.

On behalf of us all, I would like to take this opportunity to thank Mr Edward Johnson, thank-you sir, thank-you for giving us the most versatile and flexible word in the English language.

THE (SAMLAGGING) END

Holy fuck, is that for real?

I love bitches who swear!

I gotta meet that little fucker!

(Authors note; hmmm, can be arranged.)

Where's that Angel bitch with the big tits? I gotta find her and go, Can I samlag your titties for thirty dollars? Or maybe I can ask Jessica Rabbit; Hey Carrot-Muncher, you wanta ligg?

# Walking On the Wild Side

"God, everything we talk about, you turn it into a discussion about sex!" Brianna Weston

huffed.

"Do I?" Melissa Christoph asked.

"You've got a one-track mind!"

"I'm in my sexual prime Bree, and my hormones are always pole dancing." Melissa said as she sipped on her coffee, pleased that the conversation was heading in the direction she wanted it to go.

"Speaking of sex, what's the wildest and most erotic thing you've ever done?" Melissa asked.

"None of your business."

"Tell me!"

"I would never tell you, because you wouldn't think it was wild or erotic."

"I'll tell you mine and then you tell me yours."

"Uh uh, not going to happen."

"You don't want to hear about the wildest thing I've ever done?" Melissa asked, clearly surprised.

"Not really; you told me that you're prepared to try anything once, so I'd be afraid that it might be about furry animals or dwarves in elf costumes."

Melissa laughed; "Yeah anyway, Bad Boy's birthday on Sunday."

"Twenty ninth?"

"Yeah, and I asked him what he wanted for his present and he said-"

"Wait!" Brianna interrupted; "It's not going to be something disgusting is it?"

"No, he just wants to take a few photos of me."

"Oh, I'd have thought he had enough nude photos of you to start up his own erotic website."

The conversation was exactly where Melissa wanted it to be, and she smiled as she said; "He just wants to take a few photos of me kissing a girl."

"Knowing you, it wouldn't take much persuasion to get you kissing anyone!" Brianna laughed.

"You and the Accountant want to come over for drinks on Saturday night?"

"Mel, Greg's a financial planner, not an accountant; and yeah, sure."

"Good, we can have a couple of drinks," Melissa placed her cup into the saucer and looked at her friend; "And then we can take the photos."

Brianna held the gaze as she breathed out; "Photo's?"

"Of me kissing a girl."

Melissa and Brianna had been best friends for more than five years, although Brianna thought that the friendship was strange, because they were almost polar opposites.

Melissa was bold, extroverted and uninhibited, while the most suitable word to describe Brianna would be conservative.

Brianna's conservatism tip-toed into the conversation; "I'm not really interested in watching you kissing a girl Melissa."

Melissa gazed at her, wanting to gauge her reaction to the next statement as she whispered; "You wouldn't be watching."

Brianna held the gaze as her mind jig-sawed the pieces of the conversation into an identifiable shape.

"Ummm, do I know this girl you're going to kiss?" Brianna asked meekly.

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

Melissa smiled; "She's my best friend."

Brianna shook her head and coughed out a nervous laugh; "Okay, you got me; for a moment I thought you were being serious."

Melissa's smile was calm and relaxed as she said quietly; "I was being serious."

Brianna was fully aware that she was blushing as the Conservative Police marched into her mind and raised their hands in a halting motion.

"No way Melissa! I mean if you think I'm going to allow myself to be photographed just so that your perverted husband can get his rocks off, you're kidding yourself!"

Brianna watched as Melissa lowered her gaze, and it occurred to her that maybe she had been a little too aggressive.

Melissa always was one to surprise though, as she looked up again and said; "Come over about eight-thirty and we'll have a few drinks, share a joint and then ..."

The Conservative Police were ready to spring into action if the sentence offended Brianna's sensibilities, but the sentence didn't have a closer.

Brianna drummed her fingernails on the table as she gazed at her; "And then what?"

Melissa smiled; "And then we kiss."

Bizarrely, Brianna found herself staring at Melissa's lips as she said; "Not going to happen Melissa."

Melissa cocked her head; "You don't want to kiss me?"

Brianna sat up straight, assuming that it might make her look more righteous; "No I don't, I mean we're best friends!"

To most, the discussion would be over then and there, although to Melissa, it had dribbled enticingly into the danger zone.

"Lou Reed." she whispered, knowing that Brianna would sniff the bait.

"What?"

"Lou Reed wrote the song, Walk On The Wild Side."

"From what I know about him, he did walk on the wild side," Brianna began nervously; "But Mel, no, sorry, I'm happy to keep shuffling on the Conservative Side."

"I knew you'd be terrified by the mere suggestion, but come on Bree, let me lead you into the forest of forbidden pleasures."

* * *

Brianna greeted her husband at the door; "Hey Greg, how was your day?"

"Uneventful, how was yours?"

"Good thanks." she replied.

Melissa's lips were still in Brianna's mind, and she wanted to shoo them away, although it occurred to her that maybe they would stay in her mind until the matter had been dealt with effectively.

"Steve's birthday on Sunday, and Mel asked if we wanted to go over on Saturday night."

"Oh, okay, sounds good."

"I told her we won't be coming."

"No? We've got something else on?"

"Well Melissa, she," Brianna was aware that she was blushing, and she cursed herself for being so easy to embarrass; "She said something that was very inappropriate."

Greg noticed the blazing colour in her cheeks as he asked; "What did she say?"

"Well for his birthday present, Steve wants to take a few photos of Mel kissing a girl."

Greg enjoyed spending time with Steve and Melissa, although he was intimidated by both of them.

Steve was a powerfully built guy who was loud, aggressive and smutty, while Melissa was the wildest person he had ever met.

An image of Melissa kissing another girl popped into his mind, and Greg blushed.

"So you don't want to go because Melissa is going to kiss a girl?"

Brianna wondered why he was blushing, and that caused her to blush again; "Well I don't want to go because the girl, the girl ..."

The Melissa in Greg's mind was sensuous and passionate, and he wondered why his wife couldn't complete her sentence.

"What about the girl?" he asked quietly.

Brianna gazed at him, then looked down, then looked over her shoulder before muttering; "She wants me to be the girl."

They locked gazes for the briefest of moments before he looked over his shoulder and she looked to the ground.

"So I guess you can you understand why I said we won't be going over."

The Conservative Police in Brianna's mind milled together and nodded approvingly, satisfied that another moral issue had been effectively dealt with, although Greg's mind was in a spin.

From what he knew of Melissa, she always seemed to get what she wanted.

"Ummm ..." he began, not wanting this subject closed without further scrutiny; "We could still go over for drinks."

Brianna snapped her gaze back and stared at him; "Did you understand what I said? She wants to kiss me while he takes photographs!"

"She shouldn't have asked you, she should have known that you'd be terrified at the thought of it."

"I'm not terrified Greg, I mean I'm just offended, that's all." Brianna stated curtly.

* * *

Brianna found it difficult to get to sleep, her mind like a runaway train.

Both her husband and her best friend had implied that she was a little scaredy cat, and okay, that sat well, because she was; but neither had the right to air their observations.

She thought about Lou Reed, and she wished that she was The Sugar Plumb Fairy in the song; 'No sorry Melissa, you can't kiss me, for it is I who is going to kiss you!'

* * *

The next morning, Brianna kissed her husband before he left for work, then gazed at him shyly; "You know the Melissa situation, well you read it all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Kissing her doesn't terrify me; I simply wouldn't do it because I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

His heart beat quickened as he gushed; "You wouldn't embarrass me by kissing her."

"Yes I would!" she shot straight back.

"No you wouldn't, but I can understand why you wouldn't want to do it, because she's, she's, well you know, and you're, you, well you know ..."

Brianna knew exactly what he was saying; Melissa was, 'Well you know', and she herself was the complete opposite, 'Well you know', but Brianna needed her husband to know that she was only protecting him.

"I mean the gall of her, putting the man I love in such an embarrassing position!"

Greg looked shyly at his wife, his focus on her lips, lips that had been in his dreams all night, lips that were assaulted by Melissa's lips.

"I wouldn't be embarrassed Bree." he muttered.

Brianna stared at him, and it seemed like she was staring at a stranger.

"What are you saying, you want to see her kissing me?" she asked, the Sugar Plumb Fairy pole dancing in her mind.

"No, no, no, of course not." he replied.

He was shaking his head so vigorously, that Brianna thought she might be stuck in a cartoon.

"Unless you wanted to." he added sheepishly.

For a perplexing moment, Brianna searched her mind for the Conservative Police, but it appeared that they had ducked under the bed.

"Ummm, so if I did kiss her, you know, just so that her perverted husband could get his birthday present, you wouldn't be embarrassed?"

Greg had spent his entire life trying to be inconspicuous, trying to be non-confrontational and almost invisible, but an opportunity had presented itself, and he wanted to show the love of his life that he could be as bold and daring as anybody.

"Arrhh, well you know, it is his twenty-ninth."

* * *

At her lunch break on the Friday, Brianna rang her.

"Well you know, Greg, Greg my husband, well yeah, he's okay with it."

"Ohhhh, I get to kiss the girl of my dreams." Melissa cooed.

"No wait, I thought this was about giving your weird husband what he wants for his birthday."

"Yeah, there's that as well, but Bree," Melissa deliberately let a few silent seconds filter in, knowing that the seconds would be making her best friend even tenser than she already was; "It's my forest of forbidden pleasure that you'll be stepping into."

* * *

Friday night was always pizza night, and Brianna and Greg nibbled pizza while watching Celebrity Masterchef In The Jungle.

"Rang Mel today." Brianna said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I told her that we will come over."

Greg began to blush. The image of Melissa kissing his wife seemed to have set up permanent residence in his mind, and while it made him feel corrupted, it also made him tingle with anticipation.

"You're going to do it?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes!" she replied firmly; "But only because you and her think that I'm too chicken to do it."

The Conservative Police in Brianna's mind seemed conflicted; the moral ones were tut-tutting; 'Excuse me miss, this is just, arrhh, you know, not right!'; while the naughtier ones were looking a little guilty; 'Ummm, no, I don't have a problem with it.'

"Greg,"

"Hmmm."

"I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in you."

"Disappointed; why?"

"We're married, and you should be the only who gets to kiss me."

"Yeah, but you know, she's a girl so it's kinda innocent."

"Greg, nothing Melissa ever does is innocent!" Brianna trumpeted; "And anyway, I've been meaning to ask you, how would you feel if the shoe was on the other foot and you had to kiss Steve?"

"I wouldn't do it!" he jumped in.

"Why not?"

"Well girls kissing is kinda innocent, but guys kissing is offensive!"

"The word that springs to mind is double standards!" Brianna declared in moral supremacy.

Greg's professional life was all about accuracy, and he corrected politely; "Ummm, that's two words."

* * *

Saturday night, 8.30pm.

"You okay Bree?"

Brianna stared at the house.

For the last twenty-four hours the possible sequence of events had been running non-stop through her mind; a couple of drinks ... Urrhh, maybe about ten ... share a joint ... Think I'm gonna need it ... then kissing ... Hoh God, what am I doing?

"Bree, you okay?"

She switched her gaze to her husband, drew in a deep breath then sighed; "Let's get this over and done with."

Greg knocked on the door.

Brianna heard the footsteps coming down the hallway and she nudged him; "How's my hair?"

"Fine, you look gorgeous."

Steve greeted them; "Greggy you old bastard, how are you?"

Steve turned his attention to Brianna; "Whoa, you a fine piece of arse Bree!"

He ushered them inside, taking hold of Brianna's hand as he looked at her; "There's been a change of plans!"

"Oh?" Brianna squeaked.

"Yeah, I just decided that I'm the one who's gonna kiss you!"

Both Brianna and Greg stopped in an instant, both mouths flopping open.

"Nahh, only kidding; come through."

They walked into the family room to be greeted by Melissa.

She was wearing a tight white singlet and a black satin mini-skirt, but the most provocative thing she wore was the knowing smile.

Steve organised the drinks.

"I have to say Bree that I'm surprised you're doing this, because I thought you'd be too timid."

Brianna's legs were shaking, and as she spoke, her voice reflected the same shakiness.

"I'm, I'm not as timid or conservative as some people think I am."

Melissa gazed at Greg; "How are you feeling about this Mr. Accountant?"

Greg noted that Brianna's legs were shaking, and he knew that he was blushing severely as he mumbled; "Ummm, I'm a financial planner."

"Yeah okay, but tell me how you're feeling?"

Realistically, he had never been this excited in his life, but nobody needed to know that.

"Ummm, Bree's a bit nervous, but we understand that it's Steve's birthday."

Melissa strode across and sat down next to Brianna, gazing into her eyes; "Nervous Gorgeous, I'm making you nervous?"

Brianna studied her eyes, alarmed that her heart was running at the speed of a heavy metal drum solo; "Greg's nervous, I'm, I'm okay."

Melissa stood elegantly, picked up one of the joints, coaxed Brianna off the couch, then turned to the men; "We might share ours on the deck."

Melissa lit up, drew back then whistled out, passing it to Brianna; "Here, looks like you need it."

Brianna inhaled, could almost sense the smoke gliding up her nasal passages and mushrooming into the membranes of her mind; "What do you mean?"

Melissa smiled at her; "You are nervous."

"No I'm not!" Brianna declared defiantly.

"Baby, you're shaking and blushing."

Brianna wanted to display more defiance, but Melissa's observation was true on both counts.

"Want to know something Bree?"

"What?"

"I'm nervous too."

Brianna was surprised; she didn't think nervousness was a part of her friend's DNA.

"Really?"

"Well actually no; not nervous, more excited."

Brianna drew in again and exhaled stutteringly; "You get excited by the prospect of kissing me?"

"Yes Brianna, I'm experiencing a tingling in the groin kind of excitement."

Brianna stared at her, and not for the first time, she noted that Melissa was a very attractive young woman.

Her shimmering blond hair fell to her shoulders and swayed with her movements, while her blue eyes were awash with sensuality. Her figure could turn heads, her breasts full and enticing and her legs shapely.

"Mel, I'm going to do this okay, but ..."

Melissa waited a few moments for the conclusion of the sentence, then prompted her; "But what?"

"What if this changes our friendship, what if this affects the way we think about each other?"

Melissa lowered her gaze as she thought about the question.

"I guess the only person who stands to be affected is you baby," she said as she looked into Brianna's eyes; "Because this is something that I want to do, and I imagine that I'll treasure the memory."

Bizarrely, Brianna thought that if she was a guy, she'd have an erection by now, because Melissa didn't only act provocatively, she spoke seductively, her words drifting out with mellow lushness.

"Okay Melissa, let's get this over and done with."

The girls walked back into the room and the conversation between the guys stopped abruptly as they looked over at them.

Melissa grabbed both of Brianna's hands and then looked at Steve; "Lights, camera, action!"

Steve stood ten feet from them and snapped the first shot, the women facing one another, then he snapped the next one as his wife ran her right index finger over Brianna's lips.

Melissa skimmed a hand through Brianna's hair then landed the first exploratory kiss on her lips.

Greg felt like a dummy; everybody was doing something except him.

Melissa was kissing, Steve was snapping, and his wife, well on closer inspection, Brianna wasn't really doing anything either, a startled expression on her face.

The first half dozen kisses were brief, although they were all captured in photographic immortality.

Melissa was well aware that she was the only one imparting the kisses; "Bree ..."

Brianna was stunned motionless, unable to relax; "Wha, what?"

"Lou Reed." Melissa whispered into her ear.

"Huh?"

"Take a walk baby, let yourself go." Melissa whispered as she found the lips again, this kiss not retreating.

Brianna realised that this kiss was the real thing, as Melissa squeezed into her, the generous mounds of her breasts pushing into her own, Melissa's right hand placed delicately at the base of her skull.

It was frightening, it was terrifying, and Brianna pulled away panting, staring into her friend's eyes.

Melissa looked brave and fearless, her eyes blazing with decadence, and Brianna didn't want to be herself anymore, she wanted to be Melissa.

Melissa found the lips again, a journey beginning, a conquest to be had, and she let herself go, devouring, travelling, engulfing.

Greg stood motionless, totally absorbed although he was beginning to feel a little guilty.

He could have been the one to stop this happening, should have been the one to prevent it. All he had to do was support his wife's initial decision and that would have been the end of it. Instead he had almost egged her on, and now he was bearing witness to this, his wife almost being eaten alive by this sexual beast.

And Steve kept snapping.

Brianna hosted the assault, felt the lips ravaging hers, felt the groin pushing into hers, felt the hand at the back of her head, felt the other hand clawing at her buttocks, and she pulled away, gasping.

When Greg and her kissed, it was always slowly, almost politely, but after only a few minutes with Melissa, Brianna assumed that her friend didn't know how to kiss someone politely. Melissa seemed to kiss as if it was an act of war, as if it were a battle for territory.

Brianna snorted as she looked into Melissa's wild eyes. She had spent her entire life being a 'good little girl', but now she wanted to be the Sugar Plumb Fairy; You want a war, huh?

Brianna's first attacking kiss was a little messy and looked a bit complicated, although it had the effect of stopping the photographer in his tracks.

"Holy crap!" Steve muttered.

Brianna launched again, invading, attacking, growing stronger because of her aggression, although Melissa wasn't a retreater, and she relaunched, clawing back the lost territory.

Brianna was initially stunned by the response, but it stung her into action as she grabbed Melissa's hair and pulled her face in close and counter attacked, taking possession of Melissa's lips, owning them, and, she realised in a moment of blazing clarity, enjoying them.

The photographer was back in action, snapping madly, while the other husband was beginning to pant.

Melissa broke away, trying to catch her breath, and she stared at her friend.

She'd never seen this woman before.

Brianna was normally a respectable, polite woman who would blush at the drop of a hat; but before Melissa now was a snorting, panting sexual beast.

Brianna stared at Melissa, shocked by what she saw.

Melissa was normally wild and untamed, maybe even a little dangerous, although Brianna thought she detected a little uncertainty wash into her eyes.

But then Melissa's eyes flared again.

With passion.

And intent.

Melissa shoved Brianna against the wall and went in for the kill.

Brianna was alarmed, wanted to wave the white flag, but she endured, she survived and then she went at her.

Brianna swung around and shoved Melissa into the wall, drew in a deep breath, then charged, a cavalry of kisses being unleashed, each kiss breaking new ground, and her friend, her fearless, dominant friend seemed to be wilting in the midst of the onslaught.

Melissa was being feasted on and she knew that she had to do something to wrest back control. She pushed at Brianna and slapped her hands away, snorting now herself.

Expertly, Melissa whipped her singlet off and cast it aside, her generous breasts now available for public viewing, the nipples fully erect.

Panting wildly, Brianna took a moment to think about her friend's last action.

If it had of been a wrestling match, Brianna knew that she had been winning; she'd almost had her unbeatable foe surrendering, but now this, unexpected reinforcements for the foe, the reinforcements being visually stunning.

Her breasts were the kind that women dreamed of and men drooled over; full and shapely, the nipples large though not overpoweringly so, and the breasts moved in time with Melissa's erratic breathing.

Brianna cast a glance at the photographer, he side on to them now, only feet away, snapping furiously, then she cast a glance to her husband, he with a startled expression, his eyes as wide as they could possibly be.

Then she looked at the foe.

The Foe smiling now, the smile of the victorious.

Brianna skimmed a hand over the left breast, loved how it felt, and she looked into her foe's eyes, wanting to gauge her reaction.

Melissa was indeed surprised. She imagined that once her breasts were exposed, Brianna would go searching for a place to hide, but no, no running away, both of Brianna's hands now involved in a delicate massage.

Melissa sighed and leant into a kiss, the kiss lacking the frenzied aggression of the previous ten minutes, this kiss a slow-burner, allowing her to savour the journey.

Brianna moved to the side so that she could properly engage with the breasts, and Melissa's face turned with her, Brianna enjoying the sensuality of this kiss, enjoyed the moist fullness of her friend's lips.

They broke away when they became aware that the photographer wasn't snapping anymore, he standing with the camera by his side, looking on in wonder.

Brianna realised that her right hand was still caressing the left breast, and as inconspicuously as she could, she moved it up to Melissa's face as she imparted their final kiss.

"Arhhh, I think we all deserve a drink!" Steve stated, his normally commanding voice seeming a little feeble.

Melissa scooped her top up and slipped it back on, then went and sat next to her husband.

During the experience, Brianna had felt like a giant, but now that it was over, and seemingly with all eyes on her, she felt like a midget.

She skulked over and sat next to Greg.

The next few minutes were played out in silence, all parties sipping their drinks.

Eventually Melissa leant over and kissed her husband; "Happy birthday Bad Boy; did you like your present?"

He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then turned his focus to Brianna.

"You surprised the shit out of me Brianna!" he said, then turned his attention to Greg; "I used to think that this one was out of control, but Greggy old boy, your bitch is an animal!"

Greg didn't want to speak, because he knew his voice would come out wracked with sexual tension, so he simply nodded.

Brianna was embarrassed by her actions, although she had never been called an animal before, and she wanted him to expand on his observation.

"I excited you Steve?" she asked sheepishly.

"Jesus," he puffed out; "I've never seen anyone beat this bitch into submission."

Brianna enjoyed a moment at the top of the Decadence totem pole, until Melissa slid into the conversation.

"She didn't beat me into submission."

Steve squared up to her; "She did baby, but it was exciting."

Melissa squared up to him and stated with a little more vigour; "She didn't!"

"Anyway, it doesn't matter."

Melissa rotated and looked across at Brianna; "Did you? Did you think that you'd beaten me into submission?"

Normally the conservative Brianna would duck under the couch when the focus switched to her, but on this night she had Walked On The Wild Side, and she wanted to embrace her Rock Star moment.

"Ummm, I don't think I beat you into submission," she began confidently; "I know I did!"

Melissa lounged back into the couch and ran a hand through her hair, staring at Brianna; "I allowed you to have a few moments of dominance Bree, but right through the whole thing, I was in control."

Brianna sat up straight, her hands in her lap; "You're wild and dangerous Mel, but the moments I'll remember most are the moments that I was in total control."

Melissa sighed; "Two points Brianna, the first is that I turned you into that person. I backed off every now and again, but that was only because I was trying to encourage you to keep blossoming."

"What's the other point?" Brianna asked.

"Well," she lowered her gaze; "You're a pretty good kisser."

"Hmmm, you're pretty good yourself!" Brianna laughed; "And Mel, yeah, I acknowledge that you created that person I became, but when I was at my most frenzied, I remember looking at you and you seemed, I dunno, scared or something."

"Okay, if the truth is what we're looking for, well here's the truth," Melissa said as she looked at her; "Scared, me? No, afraid not, but you did do something to me Bree. When I started attacking you, I was thinking, yeah this is how I expected this to go, although I must say that I was surprised that you lasted that long; but when you started coming back at me, I was like, what the fuck? You know, this isn't Brianna, this is some kind of sexual warrior. And yeah, I had moments of retreating and back-pedalling, but that was only because I was enjoying being ravaged so ferociously. And also Bree, I assumed that when I took my top off, you would scamper away, but you didn't, you just toned down and became more passionate."

"What were you thinking when the tits came out?" Steve asked, his gaze at Brianna.

"Ummm, well, maybe it's my turn to tell the truth. I love being friends with your wife, but I've always been in awe of her and I guess I've always been a little jealous of her as well. If life was a chess game, Mel would be the Queen and I'd just be some insignificant little pawn. I've always wished that I was more daring, and well I guess this opportunity came up and I realized that this was a chance to make my wish come true."

"I'm proud of you Bree, because I honestly didn't think you had the courage to go through with this." Melissa stated.

"Actually, I think that's what pushed me Mel. When you first mentioned it, you said that you knew I'd be terrified by even the thought of it, and then when I told Greg about it he said pretty much the same thing, and I guess I was thinking that the two people who know me best think of me as if I'm this little pussy, so you know, maybe it was about trying to change everyone's opinion of me, or maybe it was about trying to change my opinion about myself."

"Anyway Greggy, you saw the whole thing; who won?"

Greg looked at his wife, then looked at Melissa, then turned his focus to Steve as he gushed; "You and me."

"Huh?"

"You and me were the winners, because I know I'll never ever forget this night!"

Steve nodded.

"Arrhh the photos, maybe get another set for us," Greg began sheepishly; "I mean for Bree."

"Sure."

Brianna was confused or excited, Lou Reed in her mind; "Steve, get a couple of them blown up please."

THE END
Hmmm, bit tame Bro!

Couldn't ya get the little swearing bitch and the psycho chick to pash on?

Or Lois and Jessica Rabbit?

Or Lois and one of the psycho chicks? I mean Lois would be shitting her cartoon knickers!

Although, if Lois joined my cult, she wouldn't be wearing any cartoon knickers.

Anyway's, story coming, and by the looks of the title, it might be about hooker's again.

Cheaper one's I hope.

# Unusual Ways to Make a Dollar

Susie Kalatrini liked her job.

Sure, some people would frown at how she made her money, and others would look at her in disgust, while others would shake their heads in disbelief, but Susie was happy with her lot.

She remembered when she had first joined the work-force as a sixteen-year-old, her first job being as a check-out chick with Woollies. She had to work her butt off, attending to rude, ignorant or unpleasant customers, her weeks hard and unfulfilling. Then the weekly pay check would come, and she'd feel even worse.

This is going to be my life?

Sixteen years on, at the age of thirty-two, she could actually retire if she wanted to.

She owned her Glen Iris property and had two investment properties, one in Malvern and the other in East Malvern, while her share portfolio was steadily increasing.

Eight years ago, when she knew that her new profession was going to be very profitable, she realised that she needed a haven to launder her money through, so she decided that her money would be washed through the Share Market. She had spent a full twelve months studying the share-market, learning everything that she could about it; the ups, the downs, the pit-falls, the trends, the loops, the danger signs. Essentially, she was an expert, and if she decided to walk away from her chosen profession, she could get a job as a Share Market analyst.

She spent at least two hours every week-day studying the overseas and local markets; 'Good morning my little Blue Chips!'

The two hours always proved to be enthralling, igniting her passions; 'Oh hello potentially profitable New Stock; please, step into my portfolio!'

But no, being a Share Market analyst wasn't in her future, because she really liked her job.

Occasionally her profession threw up complications; it could be confronting, demeaning and sometimes even messy, but all would be forgotten when she received the money.

She had an agent too, someone who looked after all the details.

Her agent organised the clients, dealt with any problems, accepted the payments, took her fifteen per cent cut, then kept her eyes open for any new clients.

All Susie had to do was carry out the client's instructions, and yeah, it could be confronting, demeaning and a little messy, but at the age of thirty-two, she owned her home, had two investment properties and a portfolio of 'Little Bluey's!'

Susie's phone rang, her business phone.

"Hello Go-Between, how are you?" Susie asked.

"Good Golden Goose, yourself?"

"Happy and content."

"Good to hear; did you have a problem with the last one?"

"Ohh, minor problem."

"Do tell."

"In a flurry of physicality, he over-balanced and fell on my knee."

"You okay?"

"It was sore for a while, but it's fine now."

"Pleased to hear it; you all set for tonight?"

"Yes, all systems go."

"So it's a definite?"

"Yes, I know where to meet him, so it's going to happen."

"Stay safe Golden One."

Susie hung up and headed for the park.

In her profession, it made sense to stay in shape, and jogging around the park was part of her daily routine.

The morning was coolish and she was the only one at the park.

She did her stretches and then jogged the first lap, gradually picking up the pace until something caught her eye.

A man in a black leather jacket let a mangy-looking dog off its leash, and the dog bounded enthusiastically around the outskirts of the park. Susie was tempted to wander over and point to the sign; ALL DOGS MUST BE ON LEASHES; but her mind was thinking about her new assignment.

'Money, money, money ...'

She pushed herself, working up to a solid three-quarter pace stride, when she noticed the dog, squatting, assuming a shitting position.

Shit it did, and Susie slowed, waiting for the man to step up.

The man had no plastic bag, and clearly had no intention of cleaning up the mess.

The park had five bins specifically placed for the disposal of dog droppings, each bin even having their own supply of plastic bags.

Susie didn't like poking her nose into other people's business, but this was her local park, and if people were going to so blatantly ignore the rules, she was prepared to play Sheriff.

"Ummm, excuse me," she said as she trotted over towards the man; "Are you intending to clean up the mess?"

The man considered her, then began walking away.

"Excuse me mister, are you going to clean this mess up?" she said a little more vociferously.

The man continued walking away.

Susie was fuming; she skipped around and stood right in his path; "Are you deaf or something?"

The man sighed and bowed his head; "Listen Sweetcheeks, how about you mind your own Goddamn business."

"Actually, this is my business. This is my local park and I would like to think that anybody who uses it, would have the decency to follow the very simple rules."

The man ran his gaze over her, impressed with what he saw. She was in fabulous shape, her breasts pert and appealing in the tight singlet, her nipples fully erected on this coolish morning, while her bike shorts showed that her legs were shapely.

"Just wait there," Susie started as she began walking away; "I'll get a bag for you and you can clean it up."

"If I was going to make a comment," the man began; "It would be that you've got a ripper arse!"

Susie stopped, then slowly turned to face him.

She ran her gaze over him, un-impressed by what she saw. He had a few inches on her and was bordering on being pudgy, but with eight years of martial arts behind her, she knew that she could take him down. All the same, she preferred solving problems by negotiation rather than violence.

"Okay, here's the deal; you clean up the mess and then we can all get on with our day."

The man smiled, Susie interpreting it as a declaration of war.

"This is a nice park mister, and it is well maintained by the local council, and I don't think anybody has a problem if dogs are walked here, but the sign clearly states that dogs must be on leashes and all droppings must be disposed of correctly."

"I know, I'm on the council."

"Well you more than anybody should respect the rules!"

The man smirked as he stated; "The rules are for riff-raff like you, not for important Councillors like me; so if you're gonna squat and take a dump here, make sure you clean it up, okay?"

Susie bristled.

The man ran his eyes over her and smirked again; "Those shorts are so tight, I can see your beef curtains."

Susie sucked in a breath and puffed out; "Show me your hands."

"What?"

"Show me your hands."

Incredibly he did, presenting them palm up for her, and Susie leant back and smashed one into his face.

The man stumbled but didn't fall, muttering in dismay; "What the hell?"

Susie strode towards him aggressively and threw a solid left, then followed up with a stinging right cross, and as the man doubled over, Susie placed her hands on his head and swung her knee viciously into his face.

He collapsed in a heap, the dog bouncing around aggressively as Susie grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket and dragged him towards the dog's mess.

The dog was growling now, baring its teeth, and Susie lashed out at it, the dog scampering away.

She dragged the man to the pile of fresh doggy dung, the pungent aroma still in the air, the pile slightly runny, which pleased Susie.

"Let me help you clean it up!" she grunted, as she shoved his face into the middle of the steaming pile.

* * *

Still angry when she got home, she jumped in the shower and slowly felt the tension drain from her.

Her profession was about compliance and servitude, obeying the client's instructions, and she was pissed off that the man had messed with her building serenity.

She liked to be in touch with her inner peacefulness well before meeting with the subject, but the jerk, the jerk who now possibly had a broken nose and a few chipped teeth, had put her hours behind.

Meditation was the only answer.

Completely naked, she sat on her meditation rug and sighed, calling for her spirits, calling for the spirits of calm and peace to come and settle her.

Thirty minutes later, she bowed respectfully, acknowledging the spirits calming influence.

With a natural grace, she rose, noting that her nipples were fully erected.

Awash with tingling feelings, enlivened by having risen to a higher plane of conscientiousness, emboldened by the fact that she was who she was, she contemplated masturbating, but no, the jerk had put her behind schedule, so masturbation would have to wait.

Besides, the igniting of her erogenous zones may well be in her immediate future.

* * *

By five-twenty, she had taken care of everything that needed to be attended to, and she found herself at the location.

Her profession demanded that simple rules needed to be observed.

The clients always demanded discretion, and she had become adept at complying.

She dressed casual, almost incognito, because she didn't want to attract attention.

Perfume was a no-no, because the aroma could linger.

Susie always took her back-pack with her, for it housed everything that she may need for this occasion.

Susie had already done the preliminaries, knew where the cameras where, knew where to enter and exit.

He came into her view, following his normal Tuesday, 5.54pm procedure, although a problem presented itself, the problem being the hotels concierge.

The two men engaged in conversation for a full five minutes, Susie discreetly staying in the shadows of an alcove.

The concierge farewelled the man and strode off in the opposite direction, and Susie took a step forward.

"Hello." she said brightly.

The man looked in her direction then walked towards her; "Ummm, do I know you?"

With her hands behind her back, Susie smiled; "I believe we have some mutual acquaintances."

Robert Warren looked at her, liking what he saw.

In his mind, he anticipated that an intimate encounter might be in his immediate future, and that pleased him, because she was an attractive young woman.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Professionally I go by the name of Golden Goose." she replied, her tone laced with sensuality.

Warren ran it through his mind; a young woman greeting him, smiling for him, telling him her professional name ...

"Are you, are you a prostitute?" he asked expectantly.

"Come closer." she whispered seductively.

Warren stepped in to the shadows of the alcove, his breathing shortening as he whispered; "You're gorgeous baby."

Susie knew it was true; if she was a guy, she'd be attracted to someone who looked like her, although with her range of life experiences, she'd probably be a little more cautious than he was.

"I like you already Mr Warren," she cooed as she looked into his eyes; "But some of our mutual acquaintances don't."

There was only time for his expression to change to one of puzzlement, before she rammed the knife into his stomach, pushed, swivelled, lifted, then double thrusted, the gush of blood immediate.

Susie knew that he was dying, knew that he'd also be in a state of extreme shock, and he may not have the faculties to understand her message; but the clients had specifically requested that he know what this was about.

"Aren't you just the best darn defence lawyer going around Mr Warren! You knew that murdering son a bitch raped and killed that young girl, yet you lied, cheated, defamed and slandered to get him off; but Mr Warren, let me state with a measure of certainty, a slice of justice has been delivered on this day, and ohh, may you rot in hell!"

Susie skipped down the back stairwell, exited and hurried through the darkening laneway, taking notes; 'No-one has seen me yet, good!'

In five minutes, she was at the rear of the solarium, and she took a moment to look around; "Clear, good."

She stood on the wooden crate and hauled herself up through the window she had purposefully left open, then took a moment to draw in a few stabilising breaths.

She checked her watch then muttered; "Perfect timing."

She opened her back pack, took off her bloodied clothes and stuffed them into a plastic bag, her last action being to take off the latex gloves.

She inspected her naked body, and as they were no traces of blood, she stepped confidently into the shower.

Five minutes later, she smiled at the receptionist, knowing that she had to engage her in conversation, she had to make her remember her.

"Ohhh, I feel good!" she chortled.

"You enjoyed it?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes indeed, although I must ask; is ninety minutes too long? You know, I've seen TV reports."

"Well the media tends to beat up any mishaps, but if you follow our instructions, it's perfectly safe." the receptionist replied; "What temperature did you choose?"

"I took your advice and went low."

The receptionist smiled; "Will we be seeing you again?"

"Oh yes, I feel great! Can I book in for the same time next week?"

"Certainly."

The receptionist flicked a few a pages of the appointment book and recorded down the details.

Susie wasn't a solarium-kinda-of-gal, and she envisaged that this time next week, she'd be sitting on a chair in the solarium booth following the stock market trends on her I-Pad, but I's needed to be dotted and T's crossed.

"What's your name?" Susie asked.

"Gemma."

"Okay Gemma, see you next week."

"Sure Ms Kalatrini."

"Gemma, you can call me Susie."

"Okay, see you next week Susie."

* * *

At 1.42am, Susie jumped in her car and drove to Hopkins Street, Hoppers Crossing, taking the long way.

In a time sense, it would be quicker to simply go across the West Gate bridge, but the West Gate bridge had CCTV cameras.

'A car registered to a Ms Susie Kalatrini was seen crossing the bridge at approximately ...'

"Dot the I's and cross the T's." she reminded herself.

The bins in Hopkins Street were emptied on a Wednesday morning, so the plastic bag containing the knife and the bloodied clothes were deposited in a bin on Hopkins Street, a bag of Susie's own garbage being placed over the top of it.

By 3am, she decanted the bottle of Grange Hermitage and poured herself a glass.

Being one to savour the finer things in life, she sniffed the contents of her glass and then closed her eyes. Susie let the aroma run through her senses, and she felt mellow, although with a bottle of Grange being around $500- a bottle, it should at the very least mellow you out.

Feeling a little cheeky and a little daring, she indulged in a second glass, savouring it, enjoying it, revelling in the fact that the wine brought colour to her cheeks.

Susie snuggled into bed just before 4am, although she was restless, her mind refusing to shut down.

'Susie Kalatrini, successful mission number thirty-seven.'

She was good at what she did, and that thought grew legs and ran.

Pumped, adrenalin still coursing through her body, she sighed, knowing herself well enough to know that her night wasn't over.

A pat on the back awaited, self-gratification beckoning, and she tickled her fingers up her thighs, the fingers tickling into her already moist vagina.

"Do you love me Susie?" she moaned; "Indeed I do Susie."

* * *

Her agent knew not to ring before midday; stock market analysis took precedence over everything.

Surprisingly, one of Susie's Bluey's took a dive; "Ohh Baby, come on, multiply for mummy."

As the morning ticked into afternoon, her business phone rang and Susie answered.

"Good afternoon Go-Between, how are you?"

"I'm fine Golden Goose; heard that there was a murder at the Tivoli last night."

"How interesting."

"Everything went well, no problems?"

"No problems, no; although I think the prick wanted to fuck me."

"If I was a guy, I'd want to fuck you!" Go-Between laughed.

"Hmmm, so would I."

"Protocols observed, procedures followed?"

"You think you're speaking to an amateur?"

"No of course not, why should I doubt you. How were you feeling afterwards?"

"Ummm, pumped."

"Ohhh God, you didn't masturbate again, did you?"

"The spilling of blood, a couple of Granges, and the thought of a few extra dollars, how could I resist?" Susie relayed contentedly, then added; "Plus, it helps me get to sleep."

"Kill someone then masturbate, you're one strange bitch!"

"Go-Between, I'm sure you realise, I'm in love with myself."

"I love you too Golden."

Susie liked speaking to her agent, and she mentioned; "Yeah everything went according to plan which was good, because I had a rather unsettling incident earlier in the day."

"What happened?"

"I was jogging in the park, and this dog had a crap and then the owner just walked away, I mean in my local park!"

"Uh, uhh; is the owner still alive?"

"I kill for money, not satisfaction, but I mean, some people."

"Did you end up cleaning it up?"

"As if; the owners face cleaned it up."

"Hah, you're a classic, but anyway, something is coming up, I'll call you when details are finalized and the deposit has been paid."

"Cool."

"Stay out of trouble and keep your fingers out of your puss."

"Well I'll stay out of trouble."

Susie hung up and then turned the TV on. She flicked through the recorded items and selected one, The Brady Bunch Movie.

She loved The Brady Bunch, especially Marcia.

In reality, she would love to be like Marcia, or maybe she'd like to be like Marcia if Marcia Brady was a female assassin.

"Hmmm, can't have everything." she mused.

She smiled as the movie played, her biggest smiles saved for Marcia.

Yeah, some people would be offended by what she did, but what the hell; she loved her job.

THE END
Hmmm, not sure what to say.

I mean I got a stiffy, but I can't figure out why.

I mean tell that bitch that I ain't ever done nothing wrong to nobody, see, so don't kill me, okay?

It would be a real bummer getting killed, and I mean getting killed by a hot bitch would be the pits!

But I dunno, is there a theme developing here?

Like how many hot bitches have already killed people? You know what I'm saying?

Isn't hot bitches just like supposed to be about opening their mouths, you know, Suck on this momma!

I mean, What the samlag?

I gotta say but, I like the fact that the hot bitch kills a bad ass and then masturbates, like that's class Bro, kinda artistic yeah.

# Lycanthropy; a Beginner's Guide

The bar was always crowded at this time of night, but the women were able to get a table near the window.

"So what's up?" asked Evie.

Cassie looked up at her, then down at her drink.

"It's Johnny," she began; "He's well, it's like, well he's never been the same since the accident."

Evie gazed at her for a moment, then asked quietly; "You mean the wolf thing?"

Cassie looked up, glancing left and right, then looked down to her drink again, running her index finger around the rim; "Yeah, yeah; the wolf thing."

The atmosphere was lively, the constant murmur drowned out occasionally by raucous laughter.

"I thought it was healing okay." Evie declared.

"Oh yeah," Cassie answered quickly, meeting her friend's eyes; "The wounds almost completely healed, almost as good as new," then she dropped her gaze and fingered the rim of her drink again, "It's just the other stuff." she said, her voice trailing off to a whisper.

Evie waited for her, wondering if she was going to expand on her last statement, but Cassie, head down, just continued to play with her drink, rotating the coaster underneath it.

"What are you talking about Cas, what other stuff?" she asked finally.

Cassie looked up again, her gaze distant; "Well he's just been acting really strange, weird," then she looked across at a group of noisy revellers; "I'm starting to get a bit worried about him."

Evie sipped her drink and relaxed back into her chair; "Cas honey, I mean getting attacked by a wolf is a pretty major incident, he's probably got all kinds of freaky stuff floating around in his head."

"Yeah sure," Cassie began; "I knew it wasn't going to be like, Hey I got bitten by a wolf, but my arms healed up fine, so we can all get back to normal." she looked across at the noisy group again; Seen that guy before; what's he been in? ... "But he's just been really distant, really strange." she said as she tossed her hair back elegantly.

"It'll take time Cas," Evie whispered; You weren't supposed to do that 'hair' thing ... bitch!

Evie composed herself then said; "I suppose you just need to be there for him."

"You're right Evie, but I'm not really sure what to do because he's always been so predictable, and I thought I knew how he'd react or what he'd be thinking in a certain situation, but since the accident ..." her voice trailed off, her attention back to her drink.

"Really strange, like what's he doing, what kind of things?"

"Well most of the time when I walk into a room that he's in, he's just staring, like staring into space, like he's in a trance or something. And it didn't bother me initially, but it's happening all the time now, and I can go and stand in front of him okay, and well he doesn't even notice me and I've gotta go, Hey Johnny, Johnny; everything alright honey? And I've usually got to call out to him a couple of times until I gain his attention, and then, well he just sort of stares at me for a while, and it's getting really unnerving."

Evie ran a hand over her chin, pondering; "Okay Cas, maybe he's just reliving it, or maybe even more likely, trying NOT to relive it!"

"Yeah, okay, okay, but the look in his eyes."

"I can see you're concerned Cas, but staring into space occasionally doesn't really seem like a big deal to me."

Cassie sighed then mumbled; "It's not just the staring, there's other stuff."

They held each other's gaze until Evie reached for her drink and took a sip; "Like what?"

"Well the other night," Cassie began timidly; "I got home about 10.30 and I found him squatting outside in the backyard," she cast a glance towards the bar, then back to her friend; "He was naked and he was squatting there in our back yard, just staring at the sky, and I must have called to him about half a dozen times until he looked at me," she hunched down, her voice lowering; "And he sort of growled at me or something."

"Growled?"

Cassie nodded her head, glancing towards the bar again.

"Maybe just drunk or something Cas; Gary's always making growling noises when he's drunk."

"Okay, but last week we had sex," she cast a glance over both shoulders, hunkering down even further, both hands resting flat on the table; "And he was like some kind of wild beast or something. And I mean that was okay, like he wasn't hurting me or anything, but he's never been like that before, never! And at one stage I looked into his eyes, and it just didn't seem like it was him and I was thinking, Who are you?"

Cassie held the gaze for a few moments, then straightened and began prodding the ice cubes with her drink straw.

Evie fiddled with her engagement ring; "Not sure what to say Cas, maybe it's all just part of the healing process." she stood, motioning to Cassie; "Drink up, I'll get you another."

Evie strode up to the bar, her mind spinning; bitten by a wolf, acting strange, growling ...

She caught the eye of her fiancé as a thought circled in her mind; 'Does the word lycanthropy mean anything to you Cas?'

"Hey honey, what can I get you?" Gary smiled at her.

"Usual for me, gin and tonic for Cas!"

He quickly went about his duties, calling over his shoulder as he measured out the spirits, "How is she?"

"Cas? Oh yeah okay I guess, just worried about Johnny; says he's been acting really strange since the accident!"

Gary delivered the drinks to his fiancée; "Since the accident?" he started to move off to the next customer; "If you ask me, he's always been strange!"

Evie delivered the drinks back to the table, noting her friend still prodding the melting ice cubes; And yeah, what's this, you've undone the top button of your shirt? Evie forced a smile; Flash a bit of cleavage huh? ... Bitch!

"Listen Cas, I've been thinking, after the incident, did he ever have any sort of counselling or anything?" she asked as she smoothed over the back of her dress and sat down.

"Umm counselling?"

"You know, like a psychiatrist or something like that."

Cassie ran a finger along the bottom of her glass, clearing away the condensation, then looked up as she said: "He wouldn't see a counsellor if I paid him!"

Muffled sounds, frustration quite evident, and Jennifer Blake asked; "Huh, what?"

"Psychiatrist, not counsellor."

"Ohh, sorry." Jennifer apologised.

"Let's go again people; everybody ready?"

Cassie ran a finger along the bottom of her glass, clearing away the condensation, then looked up as she said; "He wouldn't see a psychiatrist if I paid him!"

The women chatted for a while longer, Evie keeping the drinks coming courtesy of her fiancée; but noting the time, Cassie got up to leave.

"God, look at the time, he'll be wondering where the hell I am!"

"Cas hang around, Gary finishes in about half an hour; stay and he'll drive you home." Evie offered.

"Oh thanks Evie, but it's only six blocks."

The women hugged, Cassie placing a hand on her friends shoulder; "I'm glad we caught up Evie, I really needed someone to talk to."

"Hmmm, just wish I could have been more helpful."

Cassie walked out of the bar and a cool breeze blew into her face, so she turned her jacket collar up as she began to head for home.

It had felt good talking to someone, letting them know of her concerns. She may have had one too many drinks, but what the hell. The alcohol had relaxed her, had helped to dull some of her senses, and that was fine, it was, because her boyfriend was, well he was, was ... well he just wasn't himself at the moment.

A couple of cars rumbled slowly by as she turned off Main Street and took a left.

She became conscious of the noise from her high heels, a rhythmic clickety-clack.

The wind was only a light breeze, rustling the leaves and branches along the tree-lined street, and as she made another left, she suddenly became aware that there didn't seem to be anybody else around.

She walked a little quicker.

So they're behind me right ... did I pick the right skirt, I mean does my bum look big in this?

Cut to him, he, it.

Of greater sensory awareness, the scent was clear and identifiable ... flesh.

He moved with unhurried grace, enjoying the feeling of the power in his limbs.

He could attack now, his prey alone and helpless, but he wanted to revel in the changes. The beast was possessing him, seizing him, and he wanted to savour the transformation. His senses had been heightened to dizzying levels, and so had his instincts, especially one instinct; that of the hunter.

The breeze continued to rustle through the trees, and Cassie slowed, wondering what the noise was, the sound like the snapping of twigs.

'Birds?' she wondered; 'It's late, must get home!'

As she headed towards her next turn off, she was sure she heard it again, the snapping of a twigs or branches, and she cast a nervous look over her shoulder; "Bloody birds!"

The rhythm of the clickety-clack quickened greatly as she fairly skipped around the corner; 'Relax girl, it's just the wind in the trees!'

She settled into stride again, feeling her leg muscles working, when suddenly she heard a sound that caused the hair at the back of her neck to stand on end.

It was like soft pads galloping across bitumen, and she turned quickly, her eyes wide and her mouth agape, and did she see, a shadow, a flash?

Cassie stood completely still for a moment, staring at the row of bushes on the other side of the street; had something just run behind them? Had a shadow or a flash just run behind the bushes?

Her heart beat quickly and she could feel the pulse in her temple, Cassie tensing as she clutched her handbag to her chest and began to slowly continue her journey, her eyes fixed on the bushes.

The power of his limbs excited him and he wanted to sprint down the street, see how fast he could go, feel the power and the strength of his new shape, but no, that would have to wait, more pressing matters to be dealt with.

He kept her in his sights, her scent flaring his nostrils.

The moon was high in the sky, full and bright, partially obscured every now and again as clusters of dirty, grey clouds slowly sailed by.

Head down, Cassie walked briskly, slightly unnerved, not by the rustling of the trees, but by the other sound, hidden mostly, audible only when the breeze dropped; the sound like soft padding on dry leaves.

"Wait around, Gary will drop you off!" she said to herself, comforted partially by the sound of her own voice; "No, no, I'll be alright; God, you're an idiot!"

There was a sudden noise, like something pushing into the bushes, which stopped her in her tracks, her eyes wide, the handbag again clutched to her chest.

She stood motionless, frozen by fear; "J-just the wind!" she whispered, but then a hundred yards down the road, she saw the bushes move; one, two, three, four of them in rapid succession, heard the twigs snap, the dry leaves crumple under the soft padding sound.

She trembled.

"Hello," she called out, her voice laced with anxiety; "Is somebody there?"

She stood motionless, staring at the bushes, panic creeping up her spine.

"I've got a gun!" she called out nervously.

Slowly she began to walk backwards, one deliberate step after another, her temple throbbing; "Almost home girl, you're almost there!"

Arthur James pondered; 'Been a long day, might have a couple of beers.'

In his last lucid moment before man became beast, he stared at the girl, recognition slowly filtering in; 'Cassie? Is that Cassie?'

But then her scent wafted down on the breeze, flaring his nostrils again, igniting his instincts, and the beast pushed along the line of bushes, head down, muscles taut, it's low howl piercing the still night.

At the sound, her heartbeat accelerated so quickly that she gasped for breath, her entire body trembling now, her eyes misting over; "What the hell was that?"

She whimpered, walking backwards, but her heel caught a ridge in the paving, causing her to lose her balance.

She steadied quickly, aware of the perspiration beading on her brow, and cautiously she bent her right leg, pulling off the shoe, then repeating the process as she pulled off the other one, her eyes never leaving the bushes.

Walking backwards, she glanced at the shoes; Hmmm, nice; I get to keep them yeah? then as a large rustle emanated from the bushes, she turned and ran.

Cassie ran as quickly as she could, head down, legs pumping, her arms encumbered by bag and shoes. She dashed around the corner, into her street, and she could clearly hear the padded galloping behind her now: "Oh God, oh God!"

She tried to tell herself that this wasn't happening, this wasn't real, although the thought smashed into her mind like a meteorite; 'You're going to die!'

Tears fell from her eyes as she ran as fast as she could, but she was tiring quickly, sucking in deep breathes, expelling them in panting gasps, and soon her sprint was reduced to a staggering jog, then shortly after to little more than a despairing shuffle, and she suddenly became aware of how dark it had become.

Tossing her head around, she realised; "Streetlights!"

The lights in the street were out and she whimpered helplessly, but her survival instincts propelled her forward as she stumbled on; "Almost there!"

Fatigue and fear battered her, and clumsily she dropped one of her shoes; "Damn!"

She stopped and looked back at it, prepared herself to scoop it up, then she heard it, a low growl, almost like a rumble, almost like the sounds Johnnie was making the other night; and she froze, felt the chill in her back, almost as if someone was pouring icy liquid down her spine; and as the low growl, the low rumble started again, she shivered and trembled, dropping the other shoe and her bag, her hands shaking, tears welling in her eyes as she began to blubber.

Her mortality, her existence danced on the fringes of her mind; 'Why was is happening to me? What have I ever done to deserve this?'

Emotionally razed, full of fear and frustration, she blubbered; "Who are you, what do you want?"

Silence, total silence, although the silence saw her drawing in a few purposeful breaths.

As the rushes of adrenalin coursed through her body, she felt her anger rising and she called out defiantly; "Come out you bastard; come out and face me!"

Her attention was caught by a new breath of wind, and she listened for a few moments, her hands balled into fists by her sides.

The wind; that was all. No padded galloping, no bushes rustling, no twigs snapping, no howling.

A mix of emotions swirled in her mind as she gasped; "Maybe you're the one who's going crazy!"

The breeze blew her hair across her face as she squatted down and scooped up her shoes and bag. Peering out into the dark night, she tried to slow her racing mind, looking up briefly to the full moon.

"Just the wind," she wheezed as she continued on her way, breaking into a jog; "Seven houses to go!"

Out of breath, confused, dazed, her legs felt like jelly, as she counted off each house until she reached hers, relieved that the porch light was on. Tentatively, she cast a quick glance behind her.

Walking quickly up the pathway, she shook her head, coughing out a humourless laugh; "Think you're going crazy hone-" she started, but then gasped.

The noise stopped her dead in her tracks.

Scampering.

Slowly, deliberately she turned to the bushes on the right side of the property from where the noise had come from, a new wave of fear prickling her senses.

Creeping, she moved slowly to the door, her heartbeat climbing steeply, her temple beginning to throb again.

She pulled the keys from her purse and was just about to insert the house key into the lock, when she saw the eyes, peering through the bushes, the eyes, the eyes ... red and flaming, red flaming eyes staring straight at her.

The courage and defiance of only minutes before dissolved quickly and was replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror.

She gasped and dropped the keys, and as a low growl emanated from the bushes, she frantically scooped them up, pushing and prodding the key at the lock; "Get in, get the fuck in!"

Panicking, trembling; "Please go in!" she whimpered, thinking quickly that she should have stood on the other side, her better side.

Fumbling, shaking, she pushed, prodded and punched at the lock; "Why the fuck won't you GET IN!" her voice ending in a high pitched squeal.

The key slipped in and she let out a surprised gasp as the door opened, then quickly, she pushed the door open and jumped inside, slamming the door closed.

'Call Johnny, call Johnny!' she thought, her heart pounding ferociously, then a secondary thought, a more considered thought; 'No, no, actually don't call him.'

She stood with her back against the door, perspiration running in winding tracks down her face, her eyes almost bulging as she visualised the red flaming, glowing eyes; 'What if, what if that was him?'

Thoughts bounced around in her head; 'Phone! Help! Police!' followed by a thought that smashed into her brain, immobilising her, causing her to stiffen against the door; "Keys?"

Had she left the keys in the lock?

Her body slid down the door, Cassie sitting, a feeling of helplessness surrounding her, her elbows flopping onto her knees, her face planted in her hands as she began whimpering.

She was supposed to display raw fear, mixed in with utter helplessness, and she was bringing it home.

"The keys ARE in the lock on the other side of the door, you stupid girl!" she moaned, as a clear vision of the flaming red eyes materialized in her mind again.

Tears and perspiration ran down her face as she clenched her fists and pounded them into her thighs; "Fuck, fuck, you have to do something, do something!" she trembled, trying to slow her racing mind.

'Keys, phone; keys, phone?' she wondered; 'Do I get the keys or just go straight to the phone and ring the police?'

Thinking of the police made her wonder; 'What do you say? Hey there, how ya doing? Look think I just got a werew ... no, just got something chasing me. What is it, you ask? Oh you know, just some kind of galloping beast with red eyes is all, no big deal ... but come quick!'

She visualised Johnny, squatting down naked, staring at the moon; "That is not Johnny!" she assured herself; "That is not my boyfriend!"

There was something out there though, something in the bushes by her front porch.

She had to get the keys, she decided, just had to.

Turning slowly, she faced the door and placed her hand on the knob, her temple pounding, her heart thundering and her mouth was dry and parched, although her senses had been dulled by the inevitable.

"Open the door and you die." she whispered to herself, although the overwhelming desire to get the keys had her turning and facing the door; "Can werew ... I mean animals, galloping things turn keys?"

She turned the handle, hearing it click, and then she sucked in a breath and slowly closed her eyes.

This was it, she had to get the keys, but she knew what she was going to see.

Cassie drew in another fluttering breath, then opened her eyes as she blew it out slowly, becoming aware of the sounds around her, or more accurately, becoming aware of the silence around her.

Complete and total silence.

"Fuck!" she winced, then quickly flung the door open, and gasped in surprise.

She stared into the vacant street, becoming aware of the gentle breeze.

Nothing, nobody; just dark, empty space.

With her left hand shaking on the door knob, she continued to stare blankly into the dark night, until her mission screamed into her mind; "Keys! Keys!"

She moved quickly, snatching them out of the lock and slamming the door closed again.

Fumbling slightly, she inserted them into the inside lock, and a wave of relief washed over her as she heard it click.

Again she rested with her back against the door, her face upwards, her eyes closed, most of her body trembling, as she pondered; This will be it, this will be it ... and she had to work hard to keep the smile off her face; This will be the Billboard shot!

She sucked in the breathes, expelling them in gradually decreasing pants, composure returning slowly.

"It's not over girl!" she warned herself; "There's something out there, so ring the police!"

Lightly she stepped across the room, deliberately trying to be quiet, when the noiseless night was disturbed by the shattering of glass, the sound like an explosion, shards and fragments flying everywhere as the beast crashed in on top of her, knocking her to the ground.

Paws the size of baseball mitts pinned her shoulders to the ground, her heart immediately leaping into her throat, her whole body convulsing with fear.

She wanted to scream, but her throat felt constricted, terrified whimpers bubbling out.

The beast, a huge, gigantic wolf, hovered above her, the glowing red eyes focussed on her.

"P-p-please." she stammered.

The fear was overwhelming, all embracing, but for a moment, just a moment, she saw something, a spark of recognition, as she looked into the beast's eyes.

"Johnny?" she whispered.

The glistening fangs bared as the beast lowered its head, saliva dripping from its jaws, a low, rumbling growl ...

"Hang on a minute buster!" Jennifer snapped.

Greg Davidson un-tensed, allowing her to slide out from underneath him, and she stood untidily, brushing the back of her skirt.

Arthur James strode over to her, as behind him he heard the director call; "Cut! Cut!"

"What?" asked the bewildered James.

"He," Jennifer said, motioning to the werewolf; "Was pushing into me!"

James was just about to say something, but Jennifer Blake had already stormed off, calling out; "Tony, Tony!"

'Second tantrum today!' James thought as he watched her agent fall into step with her, trying to comfort her.

Briefly he recalled her earlier performance.

'I know we're on a low budget,' she had complained; 'But I would have assumed that we could at least afford to buy a can of fly-spray!' She had sought out Tony then as well; 'Or is that in my contract Tony; that I have to share every scene with a million flies!'

'Yeah!' James thought; 'There was one fly honey, one!'

All the same he knew that Jennifer Blake's star was rising, and he suspected that she was going to be big.

She had the looks and the talent and she was demanding and full of herself; all the essentials required to make it to the very top.

He watched as she walked away, her arms flailing, her jaws flapping, her agent nodding acquiescently.

"Okay everybody," James called out; "Think we'll call it a night! Let's get this place cleaned up and head on home."

James looked to his right, and a smile broke across his face. In full werewolf costume, the actor hunched his shoulders as he declared innocently; "I wasn't pushing into her, I wasn't!" the words slightly muffled coming out through the long snout.

"It's okay Greg" James began; "Get changed and we'll go and grab a couple of beers."

The werewolf slunk off, still shaking his head; "I wasn't pushing into her!"

James saw a vision of his future, could see himself telling his grandkids; 'Yeah, I worked with Jennifer Blake on her second film.'

'Oh really grandpa, what was she like?'

Pain in the ...

Things were organised quickly, and people started to leave in their little groups, his assistant eventually calling to him: "Everything's clear Mr James!"

They left together, James flicking off the lights and locking the door; "Ahhh, another day in Tinsel Town!"

THE END
Huh, what?

I dunno, about werewolves or something wasn't it? I mean didn't you read it? Like that's your job, you know to read this shit.

But anyway's, I mean how's that bimbo ... 'pushing into me!'

I'II push something into ya bimbo!

That coulda been a good story but, like I mean if I'm writing that story, I would make the werewolf actually push into her see, so that the werewolf actually slams her before he eats the bimbo. Then yeah, me and all the boys would go and see a movie like that.

Werewolves are stereo-typed though, because werewolves is always guys; how come there's never hot chicks turning into werewolves? I'm not saying that I'd let a hot-chick-werewolf bite me or anything, I'm just saying that I'd pat the werewolf until it turned back into the hot chick, then I'd go, Hey Babe, can we do doggy-style?

And the boys would ask, Hey Johnny, whatchaya been doing? And I'd go, You know, just been slamming this hot werewolf!

But anyway, my friend Berger, you'll meet Berger at Christie's when we get there; he done a poem about werewolves. Berger kinda fancies himself as a poet, and he's always writing poems about stupid shit, and his poem about werewolves went something like this;

A full moon doth blaze, and a howl rings out,

Man turns into a beast, with a great big snout.

If werewolves are real, I'd reckon they'd be scary,

Cause they got great big teeth, and they're really hairy.

Hey listen Little Red Riding Hood, that's not your Grannie,

It's a freaking werewolf, you stupid little twat!

But Ms Riding Hood, if you don't get eaten by the werewolf,

Do you wanta go out when you grow up?

And you can say to me, My, you've got a big ...

Or if you do get eaten by the werewolf,

Have you got any sisters who are like, I dunno, 21 or 22?

I never run up a hill, if the hill is not there,

I never practice my flute, while drinking a beer.

Riding Hood, Riding Hood, where art though?

If you're in the werewolves tummy, I guess we'll just cancel the date,

Or if you come back as a girl werewolf, I'll meet you at Christie's.

No biting me though.

Yeah, well I never said he was good.

He thinks he is though; he's always writing shit.

Maybe you're thinking that me and the boys are just a bunch of clowns, like with Marco being in love with Jessica Rabbit, and me wanting to slam Lois and Ultra-Wham-Bam-Slam Jessica Rabbit, and Berger having a crush on Little Red Riding Hood; but everybody's got secret fantasies, just that me and the boys have got big mouths too, and when you got secret fantasies and a big mouth and you're drinking beer, shit just comes out, see.

Huh?

Okay, okay; short story coming, next page I think.

#  House of the Vestals

Rome, 500BC

The Vestal Virgins were respected and revered.

Having come from Rome's finest families, the Vestal Virgins were entrusted with many important duties, the most important which was to maintain The Fire Sacred To Vesta.

The Vestal Virgins also collected water from the Sacred Spring, kept safe the wills and testaments of famous people, guarded sacred objects and prepared the food that would be used in sacred rituals.

The Vestal Virgins were sworn to chastity, the intention being that they could then devote themselves to the study and correct observance of the State rituals that were off limits to the male Priests.

The youngest and most eager of the Vestals, was Reiemi.

Of eighteen years, the child had fair hair and a flushed complexion, her slender young body adorned in the fashionable attire adopted by the Vestals.

Reiemi, eager to please, eager to help, smiled often, the smile embracing, her eyes shining like diamonds, but the Vestalium Maxima (The Boss) whose name was Oppia, would oft gaze at her sternly; 'Smiling child? Why doth thou smile?'

Reiemi went about how duties and studies with zest and enthusiasm, trying hard not to smile, because she loved being a Vestal Virgin, and she dreamed that one day she would be the Vestalium Maxima.

Fate had a very different route planned for her though.

It was Reiemi's turn to tend the Sacred Fire, and that she did with her usual pep and vitality, and then she started for home.

She was concentrating so hard on trying not to smile, that she missed her turn-off and found herself standing at the foot of the Enchanted Forest.

"Ohh wow, this is beautiful!" she gushed, then as she felt the smile break across her face, she slapped a hand over her mouth to halt its progress; "No smiling, no smiling."

From deep inside the woods, a voice rang out; "I hear a voice; is there someone out there?"

Reiemi was confused, but also interested as she said nervously; "Is this the voice that you think you heard?"

"Aye, that is the voice that I heard, and the voice belongeth to a fair maiden, I be thinking."

"Errr, fair maiden, nay, I be Reiemi of the House of the Vestals."

"Are you a Vestal Virgin?"

"I shall say this only once," Reiemi began proudly; "Yes, I am a Vestal Virgin!"

The voice from deep in the forest broke several world records in his haste to view a Vestal Virgin.

He skidded to a halt, puffing; "Ohhh, you a tasty little treat!"

Reiemi recoiled, surprised by him; "I shall ask this only once; what manner of creature might you be?"

"What?"

"What manner of creature might you be?"

The creature frowned; "Twice, you asked the question twice."

"Well you asked, What, so I repeated the question I originally asked of you; and anyway, will you answer my question, or will I need to ask one more time?"

"No, no you look great, but I fear you talk too much," the creature moaned; "And I be a mighty Faun; Pan, half-man, half-goat!"

Reiemi stared at him, then asked; "Which half is the man part?"

Pan looked quite indignant as he placed his hands on his hairy hips and gazed at his hooves; "Maybe take a guess, huh?"

Reiemi laughed; "No, only joking!"

"Hmmm, a wise-guy ehh?"

"Sorry half-Goatman; we Vestals get so few opportunities to laugh, that it is desirous that we take them when they present themselves."

"If you weren't so gorgeous, I'd piss on your leg!" he huffed.

"Oh goodness! I shall say this only once; it is forbidden to touch, harm or dishonour those of the House of The Vestals!"

"What was that?"

"I said it is forbidden – "

"No, no, I was kidding!" Pan interrupted, laughing; "If you say, I shall say this only once; I'm gonna try and make you say it again, see?"

"Why would you use this trickery?"

"Well, I guess I'm the Wise-guy!"

"I shall make this declaration only once; I am Reiemi of The House of The Vestals, and I deserve the respect of all of Rome's legions!"

"What's that?"

"I said –"

"No, sorry," he interrupted; "You gotta stop saying that you will say this only once, because sister, I just can't help myself!"

"Anyway, I appear to be lost; can you show me how to get back to the House Of The Vestals?"

"Sure, sure, but come into the forest first, take a load off."

"I, I being Reiemi, me has not set foot in the Enchanted Forest, and indeed me being a Vestal, maybe I not be allowed to venture in."

"Really? Vestals can't come into the Enchanted Forest?"

"I be not sure, for I haven't got up to that bit in my studies yet."

"I'm sure it's alright, so come in, I'll roll us a joint."

She watched him for a moment, then stood at attention, her hands clasped in front of her gown; "I shall ask this only once; the thing you are rolling, the thing you referred to as a joint; what manner of instrument is it?"

"Hooo, I'm so tempted, but I will refrain, and this Cutey-Pie, is dope, weed, marijuana, the big 420; this momma's gonna make you wanta chill baby, chill!"

"Chill, as in being cold?"

"Come over, I'll light up and you can try it and see if you like it."

"In my studies, I don't think I have come to the part that deals with this thing you call dope or weed."

Pan loved looking at her, her beauty seemingly magnified by her innocence. She seemed nice too, sweet, but a Vestal, a Vestal Virgin.

This could be the notch in his belt that would raise his profile in the forest. For years all the macho creatures of the forest had pushed him around and mocked him, but now he had a chance to make a big name for himself.

He lit up, sat down by the large tree, then patted a spot next to him; "Just have a little suck, it will help you relax, and then we can think about getting you home."

Reiemi sat, sucked tentatively, then spluttered out, coughing.

"Nah, nah; like this." Pan laughed.

He drew back, held, lolled his head back, then exhaled smoothly.

"Ohh, I see."

Reiemi drew back, held, lolled her head back, then puffed out, coughing apologetically.

She gazed at the surroundings, her gaze then to the sky, the gaze settling on Pan.

"I shall say this only once; I don't think I can feel the chill that you prophesized."

"Relax Sugar, I mean we gotta suck this whole baby down, and then magic floats."

They took turns, Pan staring at her moist lips.

After ten minutes, Reiemi said; "Actually, I am feeling quite relaxed."

After twenty minutes, Reiemi said; "Ohhh look, there's a sky in the butterfly!"

After twenty-one minutes, Pan asked; "What?"

Reiemi giggled; "I shall correct myself only once; there is a butterfly in the sky."

After thirty minutes, Pan laughed; "Ohh yeah, I saw it, I saw the freaking butterfly!"

Reiemi laughed too; "Yes? You saw the butterfly?"

Pan spluttered and laughed; "I, me, I did see, and it was the butter-sky I did see!"

Reiemi spluttered out a laugh that lacked her usual dignity and propriety; "A butter-sky, you saw a butter-sky?"

"Well maybe it was a flying butter, just some little flapping fucker!"

Reiemi laughed generously, her whole body involved in the laugh, the laugh developing into stomach-cramping proportions, a laugh entirely inappropriate for a Vestal Virgin, although Reiemi was unable to control herself, as she began guffawing, then snorting.

Pan laughed too; "Oh yes, snort for me, my little Piggy Princess!"

"Don't make me laugh!" Reiemi said, rolling into him.

Pan could sense that the 'major' notch on his belt was starting to look more like a reality than a dream, so he asked; "Wanta share another one?"

"Ohhh, I shouldn't." she replied timidly.

"Come on!"

Pleasantly relaxed, she shrugged; "Okay, why not."

Pan rolled quickly, sucked then passed on, and Reiemi enthusiastically drew back, then blew out smoothly.

After ten minutes, Reiemi said; "The sky seems closer, almost like I can touch it!"

After twenty minutes, Reiemi said; "I am hungry and the tree is talking to me, or maybe the tree is hungry."

After thirty minutes, Reiemi said; "I can't feel my legs!"

Pan ran his hand up her calves; "Can you feel this?"

"Yes, I can feel you touching my legs."

His hand tickled inside the gown, up to her thighs; "Can you feel this?"

She spluttered out a laugh; "Yes, but I must inform you, that no humans are allowed to touch the sacred flesh of the Vestals."

"I'm not human!" he said brightly; "I'm half-man, half-goat!"

"I forgot," Reiemi guffawed; "Goat-boy!"

He laughed, although his hand continued its journey, he touching the untouched.

Reiemi stiffened, Oppia's words in her mind ... Vestals are to remain untouched ...

"Ye no allowed to touch the holy bits." Reiemi said shyly.

"Me is touching the holy bits!" Pan smirked; "You like?"

For the first time, a Vestal's clitoris was being tickled and teased.

Reiemi leant back and sighed; butter-skies in the fly, clouds floating in her brain, holy bits being touched.

"I shall say this only once; with a measure of certainty I state that yes, I do seem to be enjoying this, or you know, my holy bit is enjoying this."

Pan tickled and teased with a little more vigour, stroking now, as Reiemi lay out in indulgent repose, spluttering again, the spluttering caused by the unknown sensations, the unknown sensations building, billowing, almost like a thousand butter-skies were flapping inside her groin, then they exploded free, Reiemi bucking and gasping, explosive fireworks igniting through her whole being.

* * *

In a relaxed state of tranquillity not normally attributed to a Vestal, Reiemi asked; "You gonna roll another one?"

In the blink of an eye; rolled, lit, sucked and passed on.

Reiemi drew in, lolled her head back then blew out smoothly.

"Ummm, Goat-boy, what just happened?" she asked timidly.

"You, my little gasping Princess, just had an orgasm!"

"I had an orgasm?" she wondered aloud; "An orgasm had I?"

"An orgasm had you, and it was a big mother-fucker!"

Reiemi blushed and coughed out an embarrassed laugh; "I am a Vestal, and orgasm is like no, like I mean, Vestal no, orgasm no."

"This Vestal, orgasm yes!"

Reiemi laughed, although she was curious as to the current movements of the Goat-boy.

"May I ask, what are you doing?"

"See my erection?"

Reiemi looked at the pointy little thing; "To the question that you ask me, I reply, yes, I see it."

"I am going to put this in your holy bit!"

Reiemi was confused; "What would be the purpose of that action?"

"Arrhh, can we discuss this later?"

Reiemi considered his question, her brow furrowed in concentration, although she felt obliged to gasp in surprise at his latest movement.

"Ohh, what just happened?"

"My erection is in your holy bit!"

Reiemi tensed, fully aware that this shouldn't be happening, although also aware that there was a measure of pleasure in this experience; so she drew back on the joint, blowing out as her body rocked with the movement.

Pan was a 'seven-minute' load-blower, but this was a Vestal, and he was none too surprised that he barely ticked over five-thirty.

Reiemi exhaled, then butted out, turning to him; "May I question you?"

"Indeed Gorgeous."

"Why did you do that?"

"Well you excited me."

"But what you did, it made you angry."

"No, I wasn't angry, I was excited!"

"You were frowning and moaning and you looked angry."

"Ohh, Princess, that's an orgasm see, pumping and thrusting, straining, living each beautiful moment."

"So, so you enjoyed it?"

"Yeah baby, loved it!"

Reiemi seemed deep in thought; "What you did, what you did to me, does that mean that I am no longer a virgin?"

"Errr, guess so."

"So my virgin status is no longer intact?"

"Honey, Gorgeous, we fucked, I mean I fucked you!"

"Fucked? Could you please explain that term?"

"I stuck my dick in you and shot my load."

Reiemi felt moisture between her thighs and replied; "I think I understand your explanation."

"And of course, in about an hour I'll be ready to go again, and next time I'll have you doggy-style!"

"I shall say pardon only once; pardon?"

Pan shook his head then smiled; "Doggy-style."

Through the haze and the blur, Reiemi felt that she needed to point something out; "I state with a measure of certainty, that I, me, I who is me, am not a dog!"

Pan was just about to reply, when he heard a concerted galloping, the galloping screeching to a halt before them.

"Ohh, this Wanker." Pan mumbled.

Reiemi gazed in wonder; "I shall ask this only once; what manner of creature are you sir?"

"Sorry?" the creature asked.

"What manner of creature are you sir?"

"Twice," Pan muttered; "You asked it twice."

"I, fair young lass, am a Centaur!"

Reiemi stared in fascination; the creature being of human form down to his toned abdomen, the lower half in the form of a horse.

"What name do you go by good sir?"

"My name is Charint Vestible Arenes Mallyitoo Herenious Maximus!"

"People call him Charlie." Pan muttered.

"And who you be, fair lass?"

"I am Reiemi of the House of the Vestals."

"You're a Vestal Virgin?"

"That I am, that I be."

"If you be of the House of the Vestals, may I inquire as to why Goat-boy has his hand up your gown?"

"Ohhh yes, I can explain that," she began; "The term Pan used was that he stuck his dick in me and shot his load."

"He fucked you?" asked the Centaur.

"I believe that he did refer to it in that manner."

"You dirty little Samlagger!" Charlie blurted.

"Samlagger?" Reiemi questioned.

"Ohh, I spent some time in Sweden," Charlie explained; "But fine looking young lass, did you enjoy the experience?"

"I can state with a measure of certainty that the experience introduced me to a number of quite pleasurable sensations."

Charlie pranced excitedly; "Ohh Reiemi of the House of Vestals, can I, may I fuck you?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I feel bound to grant your request, but looking at you, I don't think it would be possible, for ye nay be able to lay atop me."

"Ohh, ohh, you would have to stand upright, leaning forward on the tree, and I would rise up and insert into you with delicacy and respect."

Reiemi pondered then replied; "I have had three joints and I am in a restful state of compliance, so what the hell, let's give it a go!"

Pan sensing an opportunity, got his mobile out and focussed it on Reiemi as she peeled her gown off.

Charlie was excited quickly as Reiemi braced her arms on the tree and spread her legs, and he reared and pushed, things not happening though.

"Arrhh, can you spread a little further please?"

Reiemi complied, although she thought that this experience was throwing up a few complications; the Centaur was half horse and half human, although the bit he was trying to stick in her, belonged to the horse.

"Ohhh, Mr Centaur, Charlie, it's not going in; you're too big!"

"Ohh baby, I love it when you talk dirty!" he moaned, trying to manoeuvre it in; "Can you spread a little further?"

Reiemi was almost doing the splits by now, Pan, the little bugger, excitedly filming it all as he suggested; "Try some lube!"

Reiemi applied lube to the monstrous erection, then resumed her position, grimacing as the erection lifted her off the ground, she tiring, panting.

"Charlie, Charlie, this ain't gonna work brother!" she groaned; "You lean on the tree."

Charlie reared and leant forward on the tree, both of Reiemi's hands in play, stroking like a hydraulic piston, Charlie whinnying.

The part she was stroking was a horse part, and it exploded, a bucket-load of semen splashing onto her face.

"Ohh dear!"

Charlie was breathless as he lit up a smoke.

Reiemi noted that he seemed quite pleased with himself, so she asked; "How was that fucking experience for you Charlie?"

"Sensational baby, although it wasn't a fucking experience, it was a jerking off experience."

"Ohhh, fucking and jerking are different experiences?"

"Jerking is when you release me with your hands, fucking is when I release myself in your vagina."

"May I be so bold as to suggest that for you, the fucking experience may only be achieved with a half-lady, half-horse." Reiemi advised as she wiped some of the spoof off her face.

"You may well be right."

"Anyway, excuse me gentlemen, or creatures, I must return to the House."

"Arrrhh Cutey-Pie, you cannot return as you are no longer of virgin status." Pan stated.

"I realise that, but I'm hoping Oppia won't notice."

Pan and Charlie smirked at one another; "Yeah, good luck with that."

Before walking into the House, Reiemi smoothed out her gown, popped in a mint, drew in a few deep breathes, then skipped quickly into the House.

She saw Oppia, and dropped her head and tried to scurry away, but Oppia called; "Reiemi,"

"Oh hello Oppia, you look well on this fine afternoon."

"Where have you been?"

"Ohh, you know, tending to the Sacred Fire."

Oppia had an eye for detail, and ran her gaze over the girl.

Her gown was ripped and dirty, her immaculate hair was decidedly disturbed, locks falling haphazardly, a few strands plastered to the sticky substance on her face.

Oppia also had a nose for aroma's, and she sniffed the girl, asking in surprise; "Semen?"

Reiemi blushed; "Ohhh, has a ship pulled into the harbour?"

Oppia was puzzled, so Reiemi expanded her question; "Have our brave seamen returned from their perilous voyage?"

Oppia, of stern expression and inscrutable morals, sighed; "My child, I dare not ask what forbidden mischief thou hast dabbled in, but thou must collect thy things and be gone from this place."

"Ummm sorry?"

Oppia frowned then pointed to the door; "Piss off!"

* * *

Distraught, Reiemi sought out Pan; "Roll me one, will ya?"

"You okay?"

"Nahh, fuck-a-duck, I got banished."

Pan tried to console her; "Ain't so bad Pretty One, chuffing and fucking is more fun than tending to some stupid fire, isn't it?"

Reiemi drew back and whistled out, considering his question.

"Hmmm, weed is relaxing and the fucking experience was invigorating, but you know what?"

"What?"

"The orgasm experience was the best!"

Reiemi lay down with an understated elegance and then drew back, eyeing him; "Blow me, will ya?"

* * *

By fall, Pan and Charlie had set up Rome's first ever strip club, flyers being tacked on to all the trees in the Enchanted Forest, declaring proudly;

Opening night special;

The VV flashes her V!

The opening night was huge, and word spread quickly, all manner of creatures flocking to the place to get a lap dance from a former Vestal Virgin.

Roman citizens came, then Roman Senators, and Pan, Charlie and Reiemi were soon rolling in gold coins.

Things only got better.

Pan's DVD of Charlie and Reiemi's first sexual encounter became the highest grossing bestiality DVD of all-time.

Pan had also captured Charlie's momentous climax on film, and he included that in his, Cumm In My Face series.

Oppia saw Reiemi in the Enchanted Forest and was taken aback.

Reiemi wore a shimmering satin gown, and her hair was braided with golden foil, necklaces of gold around her neck, bracelets of gold on both wrists, glistening diamond rings on each finger, and an entourage of adoring servants at her beck and call.

"Wow, you look great Reiemi," Oppia began; "But listen, I feel I was too hasty in banishing you, and therefore, I invite you back into the House."

"I shall say this only once," Reiemi began as she drew back and then blew the smoke into Oppia's face, smiling; "No fucking way Sister!"

THE END
Ohhh yeah, now that's a story!

Vestal baby, I invite you into my House, I mean I got some weed!

Come on baby, open your mouth, bend over, spread 'em; hooo, hooo, hooo!

Vestal baby, you get a personal invite to join my cult!

I shall say this only once; I'd love an Ancient Roman Vestal Virgin to lap dance in my face!

Anyway's, another story with 'Angels' in the title.

# Holly-Hocking in the City of Angels

We met Charlie at UCLA.

It was 1969 in Los Angeles and teenagers and young adults were edgy and restless. Charlie was one of the dozens of activist students who had set up his own stall, telling anyone who would listen about the terrible crimes of the establishment.

Charlie was neither the most passionate nor learned speaker, but me and my friend Chandler always went to his rally because his off-sider was very pretty.

Chantelle was tall, lean and elegant, with hair of ebony, eyes of blue and breasts of dreams. It was rumoured that one night she got high and skinny-dipped in the fountain at the front of Yeates Park, and if she did it again, me and Chandler wanted to be there.

As '69 pushed into fall and the Vietnam war pushed into its fifth year, the students of the College, indeed the young people of the whole country became more dissatisfied with the establishment and more urgent about their protestations.

No-one could ever accuse Charlie of having any charisma and soon students just stopped coming to his rallies and listening to him bleat; 'Hey come on man, war is not cool, stop killing people okay?'

Me and Chandler always went though, and we listened to Charlie and watched Chantelle.

One day, fate dealt me and Chandler an interesting hand. Charlie was short of a dollar so Chandler leant him ten dollars and he took us and Chantelle to a bar and bought us a drink.

We listened to them get angry about Republicans, cops and soldiers, and we listened to them as they told us that as their movement grew, they would change everything and bring the country to a new level of acceptance, tolerance and equality.

Chantelle said; "You boys should join our army, join the fight! We share an apartment with some others and you're both welcome to stay!"

I was a bit sceptical but Chandler was insistent; 'Come on Tommy, hippie chicks put out!'

We both told our parents that we were staying at a friend's place over the College break and 22/22 Winson Street became our temporary address. We shared the place with Charlie, Chantelle, a short, plumpish, bespectacled girl named Emma, an older guy called Hound-dog and his girlfriend Skirt.

On our first night at Winson Street, some other people came over, and Charlie asked everybody for donations to help pay for the 'rations'.

The rations were drugs; marijuana by the bucketful and LSD by the walletful.

Me and Chandler had both tried pot, but this night, our first night of a bold new adventure, we were up for anything.

Weed makes you hazy, comfortable and compliant, but LSD ... man!

Spinning, tripping, floating, falling ... visions, prisms, sparkly lights, and me totally spaced out as I imagined Chantelle in the fountain ...

Maybe I was a little too spaced out, because in my vision, Chantelle wasn't naked, she was dressed in a reindeer costume.

I awoke the next afternoon naked in somebody's cupboard, and I guess if you're gonna wake up naked in an apartment full of strangers, the cupboard is the best place to do it; although this was a hippie pad and there were no clothes in the cupboard.

I peeked out meekly and Chantelle saw me and she rushed over and dragged me out by my left hand, while my right hand covered my modesty.

"Here he is!" she declared and everybody looked at me.

Naked, blushing, cringing I squeaked out; "Have you seen my clothes or Chandler?"

"Your clothes? I think you threw them out the window and your friend's asleep in the bath."

Chantelle showed me a sign that read; 'The world is spinning!' and she asked; "Did you do this?"

I was comfortable being naked in front of Chantelle, but in front of an audience I needed my pants and I nodded; "Errr maybe."

Emma pushed her glasses up and said; "He did, I saw him!"

Charlie was slumped into a bean bag wearing only a loose pair of underwear and he gushed; "Good sign bro."

"Yeah, I'm an Arts student." I mumbled.

"Great!" Emma said enthusiastically; "You can make our signs for the protest rallies!"

Chantelle strode in front of the others and held the sign up, pointing to each word as she said it; "The world is spinning!"

Hound-dog was sucking on a boong and wheezed; "Critical man, mass on critical!"

Skirt said; "Take your hand away; I wanta see your weiner!"

Emma said; "You're revolutionary bro; oh plus I wanta see your weiner too!"

Highly embarrassed, I revealed weiner for public viewing, but nobody said anything, although Chantelle did have a quick glance before returning her attention back to the sign; "You see people, what he's saying here is so representative of our struggle against the war machine and the establishment!"

Charlie said; "Yeah spin, spinning; I can see it!"

Emma said; "You're just what we need brother, someone who can turn our angst into words!"

Skirt said; "Hound-dog's is bigger."

And I was thinking, just to myself mind you; that I wrote the sign because the room was spinning at the time and my head was spinning, but everyone was praising me, so I bathed in my new found glory.

Charlie christened me Skinny, the voice of the protest.

I guess that in itself was a little unfair too, because everybody started calling me Skinny, and I didn't mind too much because I actually was skinny; but nobody called Charlie 'Fatty' or nobody called Emma 'Unattractive' or nobody called Hound-dog 'Untidy', but I guess having a moniker was better than not having one.

* * *

There was a party every night, I think.

Booze, weed, LSD, spinning, tripping, bright lights, no lights, visions, nightmares; Chandler and me indulging every night which was cool, because we suddenly realized how wrong everything was and how screwed up everybody was, except us.

During the nights and into the early mornings, we drank and we sucked and we tripped and our anger and repression swelled, and we vowed that our group was going to bring down the establishment. Nothing much got done in the daylight hours though, because nobody normally surfaced before midday, all of us hung-over, stoned or wasted, so we usually just moped around moaning and groaning, waiting for the night to come around so that we could indulge again and let our anger run free.

The two weeks were almost up and I said to Chandler, "We better say goodbye and go home."

He fidgeted and said; "No man, no; I'm not going home! There's so some much wrong with this country and these people are trying to do something about it."

I glanced around the room; Charlie was asleep on the couch, Hound-dog and Skirt were asleep under the table, Emma was completely naked, meditating in the middle of the room.

"And damn Tommy, I'm going to commit myself to the cause and try and help them!" Chandler said.

"What about College?" I asked.

"You do what you want, I'm committed to the cause!"

I'd seen Emma naked every day, I'd seen Skirt's breasts, but I'd seen nothing of Chantelle; and maybe that was the motivating factor behind my decision.

I went and saw mom and dad to explain that I was going to defer College and move into the apartment so that me and my friends could fix up everything that was wrong with the country. Mom cried and dad called me a 'No hoper hippy bludger!'

Not deterred, me and Chandler moved in and became welfare recipients.

* * *

I guess it was a hippy pad, so nudity was to be expected, although the bare flesh wasn't the bare flesh I was wanting to view.

Charlie and Hound-dog moped around starkers most of the time, and yeah, Hound-dogs was bigger than mine; Emma meditated naked every day, and Skirt was mostly topless, but I'd never seen a glimpse of Chantelle, and even when I was thoroughly and totally wasted and I dreamt of her in the fountain, she'd always have the freaking reindeer costume on.

One night I decided that I had to do something about my un-requited love for her, so I drank, chuffed and indulged, and blissfully wasted, my courage at the ready, I approached Chantelle; "Err, err Chantelle, I really like you!"

"Hey thanks Skinny!"

"Like I mean, I like you in a 'Make-Love-Not-War' kind of way."

"Ohhh, you're so cute!" she gushed as she pinched my cheek.

I was getting the feeling that she wasn't understanding my meaning, so I gave her the picture I had drawn. It was of a naked man kissing a naked woman, the caption below asking; 'ME and YOU--- WE SPIN?'

"Ohhh, Skinny, you wanta make love to me?"

"Yes, yes YES!" I gushed.

She smiled the knowing smile of a long-time heart breaker and stated officiously; "Sex is so bourgeois, so representative of the inequality of the sexes, but you know, thanks for asking anyway."

Emma stopped doing her nude meditation, picked up the drawing and then approached me; "I'll spin with you Skinny!"

I ummmed and arhhhed and just began saying; "Sex is so bourgeois ..." but she pushed me down on a couch and then bounced around on me for the next few hours.

* * *

Chantelle approached me one day and said; "There's a big protest tomorrow; can you make us a sign?"

I did a sign that declared; WAR IS MURDER! and everybody was impressed.

Through the night and the early hours of the morning, we drank and chuffed and indulged, all of us talking about how important it was to make our voices heard at the rally, all of us bristling with anticipation and excitement.

By the next day though, the anticipation and excitement had been replaced by severe hang-overs.

Around mid-day, Chantelle clapped her hands; "Come on people, up, up; we have to get to the rally!"

Emma frowned as she muttered; "Turn it down a few notches Chantelle."

Charlie curled into the couch mumbling; "Might have a little nap."

Skirt groaned; "Can everybody shut the hell up!"

Hound-dog snored.

Chandler was in the toilet, throwing up, and as my whole head throbbed, I pretended that I was asleep.

"Jesus," Chantelle huffed; "I may as well go shopping."

* * *

Chandler seemed to be changing. There were always hangers-on or droppers-in coming over, and Chandler, acting like it was his place, made them feel welcome, especially the guys. Chantelle said to me one day; "You never told me Chandler was gay."

"That's because he's not!" I replied.

"Doesn't bother me one way or the other." she said as she led me down the hallway and opened a bedroom door, and I almost keeled over when I saw Chandler asleep, cuddled up to some guy in a single bed.

When he awoke, I pulled him aside; "Man, what are you doing?"

"What?"

"I saw you in bed with that guy!"

"He didn't have anywhere to sleep; we were sleeping!"

"Chantelle told me that she saw you having sex with him!"

For a moment he flushed with embarrassment, but then his expression changed and burned bright with indignation; "I'm just helping him man!"

"Helping him?"

"His name is Jimmy and he's a gay rights activist, and I just wanted to let him know that I'm committed to their cause and they have my total support!"

"You show your total support by having sex with him?"

He stared at me blankly for a moment then questioned; "How else?" and wandered off.

Over the next few nights I noticed Chandler slipping away with Jimmy or one of his friends, and I was tolerant and I was understanding, all the same, I sought him out the next night; "Chandler you are gay!"

"I'm not gay man, I'm just committed!"

Chantelle was committed too, although her commitment wasn't quite catching on.

"Come on people, there's a rally today; up, up!"

Emma muttered, Charlie mumbled, Hound-dog snored, Chandler threw up, I feigned sleep and Skirt caressed her brow as she snorted; "Shut up, can everybody just shut the fuck up!"

* * *

Around the middle of fall, we did make it to a protest, but it was really crowded and it was really noisy, and as we were all hung-over, we left early. We met a brother and sister at the meeting though, and they came back to our place and stayed for a while.

Holly breathed life into my life; petite and slim, her hair was the colour of an autumn sunset, her eyes a sparkling hazel, and freckles sprinkled her nose. She smiled a lot, and sometimes when she was smiling, she'd clasp her hands behind her back and twirl around, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Her brother was shocked that we had no formal dining arrangements, and volunteered to be in charge of making dinner; "Okay people, what does everybody like to eat?"

We all told him of our favourite meals, the memories of fine food making my mouth water, and on his first night on duty he made us spaghetti and we dubbed him 'Chef!'

Holly was in to weed, although she shied away from anything stronger, and with her pretty face, her impish smile and her relaxed demeanour, she quickly became my favourite person on the planet.

She was a child of nature too and had no problem with nudity and indeed had a thing against underwear; "Panties subdue and restrict Tommy, and I like to be free, I want my body to breathe!"

One afternoon while everyone else was asleep and Chantelle was out shopping, Holly and me lay naked by the window, the sun's rays glorious on our bodies, and I gave her the sign I had done for her. It was a picture of a smiley face with the caption underneath stating; I LOVE YOUR SMILE!

She blushed and then gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

She rolled into me and kissed my chest, then slid down my body and kissed both of my hips, and then her mouth was kinda, oh God, and then, and then ...

I was blown away, literally, as she peered up from between my thighs and whispered; "Tommy,"

Still gasping and panting I asked; "What?"

She smiled her impish little smile and her eyes danced the dance of mischief as she said self-consciously; "You've just been Holly-Hocked."

That night I did another drawing for her and presented it to her as we lay naked before 'our' window the next day. The picture was my interpretation of her face; auburn hair falling and spilling wherever it chose, big, bright, hazel eyes, her little nose with freckles dotted and the centre-piece, her smile; my caption reading; HOLLY, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD!

She must have liked it because I got Holly-Hocked again.

Through the haze and blur of booze and drugs, I could see a pattern emerging; give her a nice little drawing and then get Holly-Hocked.

The next day she went out with Chantelle and Charlie to find out the details of the big war protest coming up, and I spent the afternoon doing drawings of her with nice little captions, and by the time they'd returned, I figured that I'd guaranteed myself at least two weeks worth of Holly-Hocking.

I presented one to her which showed her standing with her hands behind her back, a suggestion of a smile on her face, the sun shining brightly in the background, the caption reading; HOLLY SHINES BRIGHTEST!

She reached up and gave me a big kiss then reached down and gave my weiner a big squeeze as she said; "Pants off Tommy."

Maybe the pants came off in Guinness Book of World Records time, and then she was kissing my cheeks, my nipples, my hips oh God, and then, and then ...

She said; "Tommy,"

And I went; "Hmmm ..."

Holly smiled, not like a Chesire cat, more like the fairy in the garden who wasn't wearing any panties, as she said; "You've just been Holly-Hocked again."

Emma was sitting near us in her nude meditating pose, and I presumed she was getting in touch with her inner self, but she wasn't, she was watching us.

She looked at Holly; "What did you just say?"

Holly answered quietly; "I just said to Tommy that's he's been Holly-Hocked."

"Holly-Hocked?" Emma snorted; "You gave him oral, that's what you did!"

Holly blushed and said even more quietly; "I like to call it Holly-Hocking."

And yeah, maybe I'm just an old romantic at heart, but I preferred to call it Holly-Hocking as well.

* * *

Charlie, in his usual non-confrontational way, wanted me to do a sign; "I mean Skinny, can you, I mean I can dig it if it's not cool with you; but is it possible, do ya think-"

Chantelle butted in and said; "Skinny make us a sign for the protest!"

Emma was pumped; "And let them know how angry and militant we are!"

I looked around; 'Angry and militant?' Charlie was sitting in his bean bag nodding and smiling inoffensively, Chantelle was checking her hair in the mirror, Hound-dog and Skirt were asleep under the table and Chandler ... oh my God Chandler!

Chandler was showing how committed to the cause he was, with another of Jimmy's friends.

I did a sign that read; WE AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT! and then drew a big clenched fist as its centre-piece, then underneath the fist; HEAR THE RUMBLE; WE'RE COMING!

Chantelle gushed; "Whoa Skinny, you the man! That is so powerful!"

Emma said: "You've captured our angst, you've symbolically photographed our struggle!"

Charlie said; "I'm the leader yeah, so I get to carry it; I mean I don't want to step on anybody's toes or anything."

Skirt woke up, read it, then asked; "Who's coming?"

Hound-dog yawned and asked; "Black Power yeah, Black Power is coming?"

I said; "Nah, the fist is just like suggesting that we, the down trodden masses are united in our fight!"

Everybody looked at the sign again, Chantelle noting; "Looks kinda like the Black Power salute thing though."

Charlie was suddenly edgy; "Hey man, we could be infringing on copyright you know."

Holly was sitting there in just a singlet, letting her body breath as she sucked back on a joint; "I met this black dude once and I Holly-Hocked him because I was so into Black Power back then; but man he was huge and I'm staying clear of black dudes for a while."

"Huge yeah," Chandler broke in; "Still got his address?"

* * *

With the big protest looming, I found myself searching for answers.

In the kitchen, near the laundry door, there was a cat's bowl with cat food in it and I was perplexed, because I never seen no cat in the apartment. The food in the bowl kinda disappeared and then kinda got filled up again, so I assumed that there must be a cat somewhere, or else one of these people must like cat food.

I gave Holly a nice drawing showing her in just her singlet chasing butterflies through the meadows, her beautiful hair flowing in the breeze and her bare bottom demanding to be looked at, the caption reading; EVEN HER BEAUTIFUL BOTTOM SMILES AT ME!

We shared a joint and me got Holly-Hocked, and then feeling as if I needed to return the favour, I asked; "Holly, want me to Holly-Hock you?"

She giggled and said; "Yes please; but I have no drawings to give you!"

I Holly-Hocked Holly anyway, but I didn't see no cat.

Chef said; "Dinners up!" and Emma huffed; "Spaghetti again? Is that all you make?"

Charlie said; "Not that we're criticizing man, but, you know, do you think ... arrrhhh, no spaghetti's fine."

As we were eating I produced the sign that explained my perplexity over the cat bowl issue; I'd drawn a picture of a cat's bowl with a tick next to it, and a picture of a cat with a question mark next to it.

Everybody looked at it, Hound-dog impressed; "Mass critical man!"

Skirt was confused; "Is this about Black Power again?"

Emma was confused too; "It feels deep, I mean I can feel your hostility, but, but ..."

Charlie nodded; "I know what he's trying to say, but you know, I don't want to steal anybody's thunder."

Chantelle as usual, was straight to the point; "What does it mean Skinny?"

I pointed to my drawing of the cat's bowl and then pointed to the real cat's bowl and said; "Cat's bowl," and then I pointed to my drawing of the cat and asked; "Cat?" and shrugged my shoulders.

For a minute or two everybody stared at me until Hound-dog nodded an acknowledgement; "Oh yeah, I dig it; mass critical man!"

Skirt was still puzzled and asked him; "I don't get it; what's he saying, Cat Power?"

Holly seemed to understand; "You mean you can see the cat's bowl but you can't see the cat?"

"Exactly!" I replied as I shrugged my shoulders; "I've never seen no cat around here!"

"Oh he's around here somewhere; he's like Charlie, he's either eating or sleeping."

* * *

Chantelle clapped her hands; "Come on people, up, up; we have to get to the rally!"

Pretend snoring, realistic vomiting, Chef mumbling; "Maybe find out when the next one is on."

I had become very good at pretend snoring, although for the first time, the cat did surface, sniffing my face.

"Piss off." I grumbled.

"You awake Skinny?" Chantelle asked.

"No."

"Jesus, I may as well go shopping."

* * *

The day I met Holly was the day I began to live. Holly was the altar I worshipped before, she was the rock beneath my feet, the wind under my wings, she was my butterfly in the air, she was my wardrobe full of clothes and she made spaghetti seem interesting, and her smile paid my bills and her Holly-Hocking provided my thrills; but as winter closed in, my butterfly spread her wings and flew, back to her parents.

"Tommy, I really like you man and I'm gonna keep all the beautiful drawings; but mom and dad are moving to Illinois and I'm going with them."

"Okay Butterfly, maybe I can visit you."

"Sure Tommy, that would be nice."

We Holly-Hocked for the last time on the first day of winter '69, then butterfly flew and me sank into despair.

As Christmas approached, Chantelle could see that I was depressed as she looked at my drawing. It was of me with a rope around my neck hanging from a tree.

Chantelle took my hand and said; "I know how to cheer you up."

"Holly's gone; nothing can cheer me up." I moaned.

She smiled knowingly; "Take your pants off Skinny."

And maybe I would've gone close to beating my old Guinness Book of World Records time for pants-coming-off as I stood in front of her.

"To cheer you up, I'll whack you off," she said, then looked at me; "For $20-."

Weiner was in hand and being teased, what could I say?

So I paid $20- and Chantelle whacked me.

Chef was watching and said; "You never whack me off and I'm depressed too!"

Chantelle swivelled to face him; "Got $20-?"

And so it came to be, that every fortnight thereafter (after we'd cashed our welfare cheques) Chantelle would whack Chef and me.

Charlie would go; "Hey come on Chantelle, I'm leader of this group, you should do me for free, you know, if that's okay with you."

"$20- fat boy!"

One welfare day as Chantelle was getting comfortable in her 'Whacking chair' and me, Chef and Charlie were getting our wieners and our cash out, Chandler said; "Hey guys, I'll do it for ten!"

Emma piped in and said: "I'll do it for nothing!"

We considered the other offers for a moment, but Chantelle was so freaking hot, and she pocketed all the cash.

Hounddog waved $20- around and said; "Arrhhh Chantelle ..." and she said; "Sure!" and whacked him and Skirt said; "Urrrhhhh ..." and Chantelle said; "Sure! $15- for you!" and whacked her and Emma said; "Cool; discount for girls!"

Chantelle said; "No, $25- for you Em."

Emma was foot-stamping livid as she roared; "$25-? You charging me extra because I'm not as aesthetically pleasing as everybody else?"

Chantelle was a master of diplomacy and studied her for a moment then suggested; "No, it's because you wear glasses!"

Chantelle was also looking to the future as she pocketed our cash; "Hmmm, do I smell a business opportunity?"

* * *

We ended up missing the big protest, and actually through the winter of '69-70, we missed every protest or rally there was because we were so wasted.

Early in 1970 Chantelle made the big announcement; "Hey guys, I'm going to start up a business!"

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I converted a little office into a massage studio, and I'll be providing, you know, sensual massages."

"Ohhh okay," Chef said; "What's the address?"

Chantelle gave us all a few business cards; "Hand them out to your friends."

Charlie was our leader, but Chantelle was our inspiration, our motivator, our decision maker and probably most importantly, the provider of our entertainment and pleasure; and with her gone, I made my final sign; HEY GUYS, I"M GOING HOME!

I wasn't sure my parents would take me back, but mom cried and dad said; "Get a hair-cut!"

Uncle Larry who was high up in the Bank of America, got me a job, and mom bought me a suit and dad hugged me as he beamed; "That's my boy!"

I worked in the bank in my new suit as a teller, and customers would come into the bank and put money in, and then they'd come in again and take it out, and this ledger clerk named Elizabeth said; "Wanta go out some time?" and I said; "Yeah."

In 1971 we went out lots and then we started having sex and Elizabeth said; "Wanta go steady?" and I said; "Yeah, sure."

We had sex every time we saw one another and in 1973 she said; "Wanta get engaged?" and I said; "Yeah, sure."

After we were engaged, we had sex mostly on weekends, and in 1975 she said; "Wanta get married?" and I said; "Yeah okay."

And we did get married and now most weeks we have sex after the Sunday night movie, and in 1978 Elizabeth said; "Tommy, you're gonna be a daddy!"

And I mean I hadn't touched any drugs since 1970, but a thought popped into my head; THE WORLD IS SPINNING!

* * *

In 1982 Chantelle got in touch with everyone from our Winson Street days and organized a reunion at her place. Emma suggested that she organized it so she could show off her lavish house and her sports car and her glamorous life style, but it was cool because everybody was there.

Chantelle still looked stunning and her business had really taken off, as she now operated five massage salons.

Charlie was pudgier, balding, wore spectacles and had a full beard, and he worked as an arts teacher at UCLA; "I like your house Chantelle, I mean I hope you don't mind me saying ..."

Hound-dog was a mechanic and lived with Skirt in Pasadena, and they had two kids although they had never married. Hound-dog advised; 'Married? Not me man, never gonna join the rat race!' while Skirt told everybody how big their mortgage was and how she was on the school council and how they were saving for a second car.

Emma had her hair cut short and cropped, wore John Lennon spectacles and was a lobbyist for the Los Angeles chapter of the Women's Liberation Movement, and her partner Debbie seemed a little aggressive and confrontational, and Charlie steered well clear of her.

Chandler and his new friends moved into the apartment when we moved out, and they're still there, and now the apartment is like an un-official headquarters for the Gay Rights Movement.

And then there she was ... Holly.

But not the panty-less, Holly-Hocking, butterfly-catcher of '69, a different Holly.

She wore her hair in a bob and it wasn't auburn anymore, it was brown. She wore a stylish jacket, an open-necked shirt and had tight slacks on. She showed me a picture of her children and said that David, 7, was considered very intelligent for his age and they were going to direct him towards law and Jennifer, 5, appeared artistic and they were going direct her towards the arts. Holly said that her husband Lester had just got a big promotion and they would soon be moving to New York, and then she kissed me on the cheek and began walking away.

For a moment I looked around and gazed at the people I had spent the fall and winter of '69 with, and memories drifted back; memories of urgent, passionate and angry young people talking about how everything had to change. There was one thing for sure, we all had, but some changes just seemed to sting a little more than others ... for as I watched Holly walk away from me for the very last time, my focus turned to her bottom, and in her very tight slacks, it was plain to see ... Holly was wearing panties.

THE END
Fuck off!

I love Holly-Hocking, but I hate bitches who end up wearing panties!

Every Tuesday should be 'No Panties' day for good-looking chicks, I mean good-looking young chicks.

Or good-looking older chicks too, I mean I'm not age-discriminatory.

Except for my mom of course; she should be forced to wear panties all the time, because some-times she gets up in the morning right, in her dressing gown, and she sits down awkwardly, and I'm like, ARRGGHH ... Mother, where's your panties? I'm trying to eat freaking breakfast!

I guess my dad, who I haven't seen for ten years, maybe he liked her not wearing panties, I dunno.

But there should be a rule okay, everybody's mother has got to wear panties all the time, yeah?

Ohh, except good-looking older bitches who ain't my mother.

That just made me think that my dad, who was a bit of a sleazebag, he was slamming my mom.

And I mean, I'm offended by thinking about that, like I mean mom, forget about that shit and just cook the dinner, okay?

New rule, yeah, new rule; Nobody is allowed to slam my mom!

God, what if my mom used to Holly-Hock my sleazebag old man?

Hey Editor dude, we got another story coming, because I think I'm having a panic attack!

# The Barbecue (Guys)

It was the typical Aussie barbie.

The girls were in the kitchen preparing the mountains of salads that nobody ever ate, while also admiring each other's new summer clothes, and discussing the latest diets and the latest 'Ins and Outs' on the Hollywood marriage merry-go-round.

The boys stood around the barbecue quaffing down cold beer, flipping the snags and chops, while discussing the latest cricket Test, or gazing into the crystal ball for the forth coming football season, or talking about the arse on that blond chick who worked in the supermarket.

As the beer consumption rose, they found themselves discussing and trying to solve the problems of the world, or occasionally they would drift off to the world of the bizarre and the unusual.

This was one of those times.

It was Davo who raised the subject.

"So what would you guys do for one million dollars?" he asked, stubby in hand, as he looked at each of the boys, smirking.

The boys jumped straight in; 'One million dollars, crikey, do anything!'

'Blood oath, nothing I wouldn't do for a cool million!'

'Anything, everything!'

"Is that right?" Davo asked as he glanced at each of them again; "So for a million dollars, you'd fuck a dog?"

The chorusing of agreement stopped abruptly, and they just stared at Davo who had placed his stubby on the table and crossed his arms; "Well?"

The boys looked around at each other sheepishly and fiddled with their stubby holders, each wanting somebody to say something to break the building tension.

Davo smirked; "Well come on you blokes, two minutes ago you were all saying that you'd do anything for a million dollars, so I'll just have to assume that would include fucking a dog!"

Davo wore a self-satisfied smile on his dial, and watched as the others fidgeted with their stubby holders.

Most of the boys seemed to be thinking; Hmmm, let somebody else answer it.

Colin knew what to say though, he always did.

"Well what about you smart arse, would you?" Col questioned.

Davo picked up his stubby and skulled the remainder, then wiped his wrist across his lips; "One million dollars is one million dollars," he started, and he looked at each of them in turn; "10 minutes of pain for a lifetime of luxury," he stood with legs apart, his hands on his hips, looking like some kind of pot-bellied super-hero; "Of course I bloody would!"

There were murmurings of agreement and disagreement and a general air of confusion.

Col broke the tension again; "Well I'm not surprised you would, because some of the chicks you used to go out with could only be classified as dogs!"

The tension was broken, and the boys all chortled and guffawed, Simon breaking in; "Yeah I remember that Elsie chick you used to go with; you used to get her excited by saying 'Want a Smacko yeah, want a Smacko!"

Genuine laughter now, Monty jumping in; "Yeah I'm sure I used to see her pissing on lamp-post's!"

The boys roared with laughter, but credit where it's due, if nothing else, Davo was a fighter, and he came back hard; "Well what about you big mouth, would you or wouldn't you?"

Colin stood proud and tall and puffed his chest out, "Of course not!" he bellowed; "I'm a man, not an animal!"

Some of the boys nodded in agreement, but Davo persisted.

"One million dollars, a cool million; you'd knock back one million dollars, the chance to set yourself up for life?" Davo paused; "You're full of shit!"

Col snapped straight back; "You asked a question and I answered!"

Davo snorted and looked around at each of us in turn; "What about you guys, would any of you?"

Silence.

His gaze settled on Neil.

"What about you Neil?"

Neil was a soft target, as he was the most conservative one of the group.

"Well," Neil began; "What kind of dog are we talking about?"

The boys looked at each other, surprised by his answer.

"What kind of dog?" Colin laughed; "What are you saying, that you'd fuck a cute little poodle but you wouldn't fuck a Rottweiler?"

The boys all laughed, but Neil was on the attack; "Since it is something disgusting and un-natural, yeah, I'm saying that if I was going to do it, I'd like to be able to pick the animal of my choice."

That silenced the group until TJ ventured in cautiously; "Okay, running with that, being able to choose the dog, yeah, I'd do it for a million."

"Jesus," Col muttered; "Remind me to lock up Bluey next time you guys come around."

TJ hit back; "I wouldn't fuck your mangy mongrel for two million!"

Neil thought that he should point out the obvious; "Bluey's a male dog!"

TJ followed up; "Yeah, we're talking female dogs aren't we? You get a million dollars for fucking a bitch?"

Davo smirked; "Guess it all depends on which way you swing!"

Jimmy's mind was ticking over; "Hmmm, ten minutes of unpleasantness for a life of luxury; I'd do it, a bitch that is; I mean we all would."

"Fuck me!" Col shook his head.

Ben, the intellectual of the group, piped in; "How exactly do you define fucking a dog? Like would you have to cumm?"

"Nahh, just take the dog out to dinner and then see a movie!" Davo smirked; "Of course you'd have to cumm!"

"What about you Monty?" Col asked.

Monty was the thinker of the group and he pondered before answering; "Hmmm, I just can't get the visual, I mean I don't think I'd be able to crack a fat."

"But would you or wouldn't you?"

"For a million, yeah, I would, but I can imagine me standing there with my hand out saying, Come on, where's my money? And the guy would go, No, you have to fuck the dog! And I'd say, Look, the intent was there but I just couldn't get a boner."

Ben ran everything through his mind then said; "Of course it's never going to happen, I mean I've never seen any guys walking around these streets going, Hey mate, you wanta fuck this dog for a million?"

Scruffy Johnson had a smirk on his face, although no-one was game to ask him.

Scruffy was the odd one out of the group, being of questionable character and very questionable habits, and nobody wanted to know what he thought.

'Fuck a dog eh?' Scruffy thought to himself; 'And the million would just be a bonus.'

# The Barbecue (Girls)

It was the typical Aussie barbie.

The girls were in the kitchen preparing the salads that would eventually find their way into the bin, and the boys were outside cooking up a feast and talking shit.

Sally stormed into the kitchen; "God, you should hear what those pigs are talking about!"

The lettuce shredding and carrot chopping stopped abruptly.

"Do tell."

"They're discussing whether they'd fuck a dog for a million dollars!" Sally moaned.

It was unusual for this group of girls to be speechless, but there was not a sound.

Eventually Sharon spoke; "Ben wouldn't be involved in that kind of discussion."

All the girls chimed in, supporting their partners.

"Girls," Sally looked at each of them; "They were all involved, debating whether they'd fuck a dog for a million dollars!"

The girls all lowered their gazes, confused and a little embarrassed.

Jenny raised her face and asked timidly; "Who said they would?"

"Ummm, I don't really know; I just told them they were all sick and left."

Mary pondered then declared; "Colin wouldn't!"

Mary was the best looking girl in the group and she knew it.

"Who needs a million dollars when he's got someone like me!" she bragged.

Brenda said; "Davo definitely wouldn't; he likes dogs, just not in that way."

All the girls looked around at each other, convinced that their partners wouldn't even contemplate such a disgusting idea.

Kate was the un-official leader of the group; bold, brassy and outspoken, and it was her who posed the question; "What about you, Mary?"

Mary looked at her; "What about me?"

"Would you let a dog fuck you for a million dollars?"

Mary, who dined at the most exclusive restaurants, wore the most expensive labels and was almost convinced that her shit didn't stink, was shocked.

"God, Kate; you're as bad as them!" Mary scowled.

Kate smiled; "Don't get your designer knickers in a knot, when you think about it, it's a thought provoking question."

Some of the girls fidgeted, others winced.

"Gee, I know you're out there Kate, but God, just the thought of it is making me shiver!" Jenny stated.

"Okay, but think about it this way; you get a million dollars for a fuck!" Kate declared.

Mary shook her head; "I'm not surprised that you would, but the rest of us wouldn't even consider it!"

"Are you sure Mary?" Kate smiled; "You could buy an awful lot of clothes for a million dollars."

Some of the girls chuckled, although Mary was none too pleased; "Come on girls, support me; none of us would even consider it, right?"

Kate looked at each of them; "One million dollar's girls; none of us are ever going to earn that in a life-time, let alone in ten minutes."

Sophie, the dizzy blond waded cautiously into the conversation; "Ten minutes? Is that how long dogs fuck for?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders; "I'm just guessing."

Sophie pondered then said; "If it was only ten minutes, that wouldn't be so bad I guess."

"What?" shrieked Mary; "You'd do it?"

"For a million dollars, yeah, sure."

Some of the girls looked at her in disbelief, so Sophie felt as if she needed to justify her decision.

"I mean I could buy a new car and we could finally get the kitchen done and I'd love to get a bank statement and show it to mum and go, Look at all the money I got in the bank mum!"

Mary huffed; "I shouldn't be surprised that you'd do it!"

All the girls were deep in thought until Jenny said quietly; "When you think about it honestly, a fuck is just a fuck, but a million dollars is freedom."

"Exactly!" agreed Kate.

"But I mean I'd only do it if the dog wore a condom." Jenny added.

The girls coughed out embarrassed laughter, and Bree advised; "Good luck rolling a condom onto a horny Alsatian!"

"Ohh no," Jenny piped in; "I wouldn't let an Alsatian fuck me!"

Mary was bamboozled; "So what kind of dog would you let fuck you?"

"Ohh, you know, a little cutie, like a Jack Russel or something."

"Yeah, maybe I'd let a Jack Russel fuck me for a million," Sally agreed; "But only if he came inside ten minutes, and yeah, condom on. If it's not on, you're not in poochy."

"I wonder if dogs can make humans pregnant?" Bree wondered.

"Actually, thinking about it now, I wouldn't ask my dog to wear a condom." Sophie stated.

"How come?" Kate asked.

"Well I get a million dollars for the fuck, then if I have a little half-dog, half-human baby, then I'll get another million for appearing on all the talk shows!"

"Ohh, God you're weird!" Mary moaned.

"What about you Bree?" Kate asked.

Bree was the solid, honest, reliable citizen of the group, and all the girls were expecting her to scoff at the idea, although her mind was wandering; "Hmmm, a million dollars ..."

Bree had a sip of wine and looked at Kate; "If I was to be totally honest, I'd have to say that, yeah, I would."

"Jesus." Mary muttered.

"On one condition though ..."

"Do go on." Kate encouraged.

"One million dollars would set us up for life, and I'm sure most of you would be like me; yes, a dog can fuck me for a million dollars, as long as ..." Bree took another sip of wine, knowing that she had everybody's complete attention; "As long as discretion was guaranteed and nobody ever found out about it."

"Ohh okay," Kate nodded; "That is actually a good point. So yeah, give me the million, then the dog can fuck me, as long as my anonymity is guaranteed, because I have a reputation to uphold."

All the girls were deep in thought, Sophie suggesting; "The guy handing out the million would know about it, wouldn't he?"

"Soph, I'd see a solicitor and get him to draw up a water-tight contract that says my identity can never be revealed, and the guy handing out the money would have to sign it."

"Hmmm," Jenny pondered; "But that's now two guys who know that you're going to get fucked by the dog."

"Two?" Bree questioned.

"The money guy and the solicitor."

"Ohh yeah, shit."

"Maybe you could get another solicitor to draw up a water-tight contact stating that the first solicitor could never reveal details of the first water-tight contract." Sally suggested.

"That's three guys who now know about it." Jenny pointed out.

"I need a drink!" Mary huffed.

"Just thinking about it," Sophie pondered; "Dogs always do doggy-style, and I dunno, maybe their claws would scratch the shit out of our backs."

"Don't worry about that Soph; your partner could go, Honey, how come you've got all those scratches on your back, and you could go, Shut up and look at our latest bank statement!" Jenny laughed.

"Or maybe we could put little mittens on the dog's paws, you know, like they do to babies so that the babies don't scratch their faces."

"This is getting weird," Kate smiled; "So what, we tell the dog, Okay Rover, you have to wear a condom so that you don't get us pregnant, ohhh, except Sophie of course; and also, we're going to put mittens on you so that you don't scratch the shit out of us."

"One of the solicitors could put that in the water-tight contract!" Jenny laughed.

"Okay, I'm having a double shot of gin!" Mary stated.

Bree lit up a smoke, drew back and puffed out, then asked; "Does it have to be a dog?"

"Huh?"

"Well you know, could we choose what kind of animal gets to fuck us?"

"Holy crap! What are you thinking of?" Mary asked.

"You know, maybe a monkey, I mean they're almost human."

Sally thought about it for a moment, then declared; "I'd probably go a Giant Panda, you know, something soft and cuddly."

"If Mary was going to do it, it would have to be some wimpy little animal like a house trained cat, somebody she could order around." Kate laughed.

"I would not even consider letting an animal enter my Holy Vagina Channel," Mary said with dignity; "Although thinking about it now, I'd probably try and do a deal, you know, deal down to say a 100G for a hand job."

All the girls laughed.

"Or maybe half a million for a head job!" Sally smiled.

Sophie was deep in thought; "What about if you got fucked by an animal and you really liked it?"

"Hmmm, you'd probably have a new career in the porn industry!" Kate assumed.

"Cats and dogs have got really rough tongues," Bree noted; "I bet they'd be able to give you some screaming orgasms!"

"Yeah, yeah, like come on Bluey, lick mumma's puss!" Sally laughed.

The barbie was finished by late evening, and all the couples went their separate ways.

Fuelled by alcohol, and also by the evenings discussion, romantic intentions were on the minds of many.

"Honey, can we do doggy-style?"

"Let me answer it this way ... Woof, Woof!"

THE END
What? Huh, me?

Would I?

Jeez ... a million, a million ... fuck, that's a lot of beer ...

I mean I like doggy-style yeah, every guy does, just not with dogs but.

I think I like the chick's idea, deal down to 100G for a hand job, although tickling a dog's clit, I dunno. Wait, do bitch dogs got clits? Maybe I should ask that Scruffy Johnson character.

Or maybe I'd do a Giant Panda or something, you know, something soft and cuddly, and yeah, I am talking about a female Giant Panda, plus, you know, I'd want to see that solicitor guy to write me up a contract.

# The Sisters of Salem

Regina knew who she was after, and she honed in on her targets.

Being Halloween Eve, the bar was noisy and crowded, alcohol flowing, bodies in constant motion.

Regina glided towards the two and waited for eye contact.

"Hey babe, what's your name?" one of the young men shouted, smiling broadly.

"Regina." she answered, smiling; "What's your name?"

"Nathan, and this Travis!" he beamed; "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thank-you, but I don't drink." she replied.

Travis was excited as Nathan squared up to the attractive middle-aged woman; "If you don't drink, how come you're here?"

I meant I don't drink alcohol ... "I'm trying to set my friend up." she explained.

'Typical,' Nathan thought to himself; 'A hot looking Cougar trying to set up some unattractive friend!'

"Where is she?" Nathan asked.

"Outside, they wouldn't let her in."

Regina lent closer to him and closed her eyes, waiting for a connection; Are these the guys?

Affirmatives popped in her mind; "Come outside," she said brightly; "Come and meet her!"

Nathan glanced at Travis then back at the woman.

She wore a long black dress, the dress tight enough to show that she was in ripping shape, and she had a dark scarf around her neck. Her long auburn hair flowed past her shoulders and her brown eyes sparkled.

Nathan leant into Travis and whispered; "The friend's probably a pig, but let's check her out, because I wanta slam this bitch."

The three walked out into a cool Oklahoma night, Nathan inquisitive; "Okay, where is she?"

Regina led them around to the darkened side of the building, and Nathan saw the small silhouette.

"Raven," Regina said; "Meet Nathan and Travis."

The figure glided into the light and stood before them, Nathan coughing out a disbelieving laugh.

The girl looked young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and she was stunning.

She had jet black hair that fell half way down her back, and it fairly shimmered in the glow of the moon. Her cheek bones were high, her lips slightly pouted and her emerald eyes seemed to be blazing. She seemed quiet and demure, although the eyes spoke of an innocence long lost.

"Maybe, maybe," Nathan stuttered; "Maybe they wouldn't let her in because she's underage."

Regina smiled; She's a lot older than she looks ...

"Anyway gentlemen, will you join us back at our campsite?"

Things were starting to make sense for Nathan as he faced the woman; "Campsite? What are you, gypsies or something?"

Regina smiled; "Something like that."

"And what, you're pimping her out?"

"Something like that."

Nathan looked at Travis and saw the burning desire in his eyes, then turned back to the woman; "How much?"

Regina held his gaze; "Maybe we can discuss the cost back at the campsite."

Nathan smelt trouble as he glanced at the young girl. Her head was down, then she slowly raised her face and fluttered her eyes open, the blazing eyes making the decision for him.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

The campsite was out of town, well away from prying eyes, and Nathan stared at the large tent.

The smell of trouble was stronger than ever, Nathan almost expecting a horde of men to come rushing out to rob them, although there were no cars in the area.

"Come in gentlemen!" Regina said as she pulled up a flap of the tent.

Travis, bubbling with anticipation, stumbled towards the tent, but Nathan still unsure, produced his cell phone. People on devious missions would shy away from being photographed, he assumed.

"How about a couple of photos?"

No objections, and Nathan relaxed a little as he snapped off three shots, Travis smiling broadly in between the two females.

Nathan followed Travis into the tent and then gazed around.

The tent was large, but it was almost empty, the only furnishings being two market-place tables in the middle of the room.

Each of the wooden tables had lengths of rope fastened to both sides.

A kerosene lantern hung from a hook at the apex of the tent, its flickering light creating a serene atmosphere.

"Undress gentlemen and lie on the tables." Regina said with authority.

"We haven't discussed the price." Nathan objected.

"Gentlemen," Regina smiled; "Pleasure first, then we can discuss the cost."

Nathan glanced at the tables; "What are the ropes for?"

"Raven likes her men restrained while she rides them from above."

"You kidding?" Nathan scowled; "Nobody's gonna tie me up!"

Regina assumed that an incentive was required, so she turned to Raven; "Undress please."

Raven peeled her long black dress over her head and discarded it.

She was young, her naked body slim and slender, her breasts pert, and seemingly yet to reach their full maturation.

Travis gulped and began shedding his clothes with haste, then climbed onto the nearest table.

Regina glided over to him and tied his wrists securely, then gazed at Nathan; "Are you joining your friend?"

Nathan stared at the young girl, and another decision was made for him, as he began undressing.

Regina stood in between the two tables, looking at each of the restrained men; "Gentlemen, do you mind if a few of our friends watch?"

"What?" Nathan asked, uncomfortable in so many ways.

From a rear flap, figures began streaming in, all figures adorned in dark, hooded cloaks.

Nathan craned his head to watch them, and from his horizontal position, it appeared that the figures were more gliding than walking.

In an instant, ten hooded figures had surrounded the tables, and Regina looked at each of the men; "Who's first?"

Nathan began trembling in anxiety, but Travis, who was trembling in an entirely different manner, blurted; "Me!"

Raven glided to him and introduced her hands to his penis, the penis soon hard and erect.

Regina helped Raven onto the table, then slipped a condom onto Travis's penis.

Raven crouched over him, then guided him in, sliding slowly but with purpose.

Nathan cocked his head and watched it all, the waif of a girl riding him like an experienced hooker, Travis noisy and boisterous.

Soon he was done, and Raven regarded him then kissed him on the lips.

Raven slid off the table and stood before Nathan, stroking him, her gaze to the ground like a subservient slave.

The combination of fear, uncertainty and excitement ensured that Nathan erected quickly, and Regina smiled for him as she housed his penis in a condom.

Raven climbed onto the table and sat on his thighs, her flesh seeming to glisten in the flickering light.

She crouched over him, then pushed back slowly, guiding him in.

Nathan gasped as he pushed into the tight channel, the girl young, so young, but knowing what to do, using all his length as she slid forward then pushed back slowly, her blazing eyes now directly on him.

His erection was severe, and the girl procured his orgasm, the orgasm seemed to be never ending, explosion upon explosion, eruption upon eruption, Nathan sighing in quivering abandonment.

In acceptance of the events completion, Raven moved close to him, stared into his eyes then kissed him on the lips.

Wide-eyed, Nathan tried to regulate his breathing, and curiously, he noticed the girl's neck.

Her neck was looped with dark colouration, as if rope had been tied tightly around it, then Nathan's attention was caught as Regina glided in between the two tables.

"I guess gentlemen, now is the appropriate time to discuss the cost."

With the kerosene lantern behind her, the woman's face was eerily shadowed, and Nathan watched as Raven slipped on a hooded cloak, then he turned his attention back to Regina.

"Okay, untie us and I'll pay you."

Regina smiled for him, although Nathan detected that the smile had no warmth in it.

"The cost gentlemen, is that one of you will die tonight."

The statement had been delivered with such nonchalance, that it took Nathan a few moments to fully understand it.

"What?" he blurted.

"One of you is going to die, we don't care which one, it's your decision."

Nathan tried to sit up, but the ropes were too tight, so he thrashed around, kicking his legs; "Let me up, let us up!" he bellowed.

"Time is of the essence and we need a decision; who is it going to be?"

Nathan glared at her, yanking his arms, his eyes ablaze; "Let me up you fucking bitch!"

"What's going on?" Travis moaned.

"What's going on? We are going to kill either you or your friend, and if neither of you can decide who it's going to be, we will have to make the decision for you." Regina said as she uncurled the scarf from her neck.

Travis screamed, drew in a breath then screamed again.

Nathan was trembling as he looked at her, and he noticed the colouration of her neck; angry dark welts around her neck as if she'd been ...

His scream startled the gathering, and it pushed Regina into action.

"The timid one dies." Regina said with conviction.

From her cloak, Regina produced a syringe, then turned to the bystanders; "Hold the angry ones arms."

The cloaked figures moved to Nathan, five on each side, and they flicked their hoods off and then flattened out his arms.

In an extreme state of panic, Nathan looked at them, all of them female, all of their necks discoloured, and he screamed again, as Regina plunged the syringe into a distinct vein on his lower right arm, and then squirted the substance into his bloodstream.

With gloved hands, Regina then produced a six inch knife and floated over to Travis.

Travis was so terrified that he couldn't even move, but Nathan found his voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screamed.

Regina turned to glare at him; "I'm going to take what is owed to us."

"You can't kill a person, you crazy bitch!" he shouted; "Let me up and I'll pay you."

"Not necessary; your friend is just about to settle the debt." Regina said coolly.

Nathan thrashed his arms and legs around; "Who the hell are you people?"

"Who are we?" Regina focussed on him; "We call ourselves the Sisters of Salem."

Panting and jittery, Nathan married the images with the words; Ligature marks around their necks ... Salem ...

"You're, you're witches?" Nathan stuttered.

"I suppose it won't hurt if you know a little bit about us." Regina began; "More than three hundred years ago, we were a group of women who were living our lives in peace and harmony- "

"Three hundred years ago?" Nathan interrupted loudly; "What the hell are you talking about?"

Regina obviously didn't appreciate the interruption, but continued on, calmness in her voice; "We were living in peace and harmony, until one by one, we were accused of being witches and imprisoned. Salem was at the very beginning of its witch-hunt hysteria, and foolish, scared men interrogated us. As we were all God-fearing, law abiding citizens, it appeared that the men understood that we were just plain, simple women, and the impression we had was that we would be released within a few days. Five men from the village obviously hadn't been informed that we were going to be released, and they may have assumed that we were going to be executed. They came to our cell one night and raped us, humiliated us, degraded and dehumanised us. The following day, we told the police what these men did to us, but rather than arrest them, they sort council with the authorities. All the five men were leading figures in the village, and I guess the authorities assumed that it made sense to get rid of us rather than upset the fabric of the village. They whisked us out on October thirty-first 1691, took us to an isolated location, then hung us, all of us, then stood and watched as we struggled, all of us dying in the most horrific manner imaginable."

Regina paused and looked at each of the women in turn, their eyes displaying the bitterness that the memories dragged up.

She focussed on Nathan again; "There is a God, a Supreme Being, and the events that we endured must have triggered her Dark side, for She resurrected all of us. The most important cycle on the Witches Wheel of the Year is Samhain, which begins on October thirty-first. It is said to be the time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead are at their thinnest, and on October thirty-first the following year, She allowed us to re-enter this realm and exact our revenge."

"You, you hung the men?" Nathan mumbled.

"We didn't hang them, we buried them alive, and physically, yes, they died, although we believe their darkened souls are still underground, encased in an eternal claustrophobic existence of fear and desperation. We have occasionally floated over their burial site, and yes, we can still hear their pathetic cries."

Nathan was suddenly more ebullient; "Listen, so you got your revenge, you got them, so I mean you have to let us go; we didn't do anything to you!"

"Your point is well made my friend," Regina smiled consolingly; "But to survive we need to sustain ourselves, to be able to return into this realm each year on the anniversary of our death, we need to imbibe the essence of life; we need to drink human blood."

Nathan struggled, wanted to scream, but he was suddenly tired, so tired, although he cocked his head as he saw the women gathering on the far side of Travis's table.

Regina placed the knife over Travis's heart, and Nathan screamed; "No, no! He hasn't done anything to you!"

Regina glanced at him, her expression lacking compassion; "I have been gifted with the ability to see what is in a man's heart, and we only dispose of men whose hearts are surrounded by darkness."

Nathan froze.

He and Travis had done a few things that made his skin crawl, especially the disastrous event, the girl ...

Four years ago, four years ...

He and Travis were nineteen, full to the brim of the hormones that invade nineteen-year old males; she was a pitiful, homeless, fourteen-year old runaway.

She had offered to blow them if they got her some drugs.

Blow them she did, but instead of getting her the drugs, they drove her out to an isolated part of Archer's Forest and raped her.

Both of them were ashamed, although full of animalistic intent, they went at her again. This time she struggled against them, and Travis punched her, the girl falling back and cracking her head open on a rock.

Panicky, they threw her down an abandoned well and covered the body with a collection of rocks and shrubs.

Four years ago; she was dead, although she was still alive in their minds.

Regina understood where his mind was travelling, and she breathed out; "Emily."

Nathan jolted and stared at her; "Huh?"

"If you'd bothered to ask, you would have found out that her name was Emily."

"I, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Regina leant close to him, her breath on his face; "She comes to us, and she won't rest until justice has been done. Tonight your friend will pay the ultimate price, and you, your role is to tell the police what you did to poor Emily."

"You got the wrong person lady." Nathan blubbered.

"You own up to your crime or else Emily and the Sisters of Salem will haunt you for the rest of your life."

With that Regina turned and held the knife above Travis's heart; "Emily, hear us, revenge will be exacted; go now, find Summerlands and rest in peace."

She plunged the knife into his heart, and Travis jerked up, a geyser of blood spurting up, then she ran the blade across his throat, slicing it open.

"Sisters, drink." she stated solemnly.

All women sated, all women renewed, Regina issuing the instructions.

"Wipe the blood off the table with Nathan's shirt."

One of the women obeyed while Regina removed Nathan's condom, careful not to lose any of the semen.

Nathan was barely conscious, unable to utter a sound; whatever they had injected him with was threatening to knock him out.

Regina pushed Travis's legs apart, inverted the condom and then pushed the condom into his anus, smearing the walls of his anus with the semen.

She then cut Nathan's ropes and waited, needing him to watch as she placed the knife beside him.

Barely aware of what was happening, Nathan forced himself into a sitting position, then swung his focus to the lifeless body on the table next to him.

"You, you fuckers!" he blubbered as he picked up the knife; "Gonna kill you all!"

Drowsy, gasping, with the knife clasped firmly in his right hand, his slid untidily off the table and stumbled towards Regina.

"You, you gonna pay ..."

All the women watched as he fell forward and landed with a dull thud.

* * *

The sun peeked over the horizon, with a promise of warming the chilly morning.

Shivering, Nathan squinted, his head pounding, his throat dry.

Sun, morning ... where, what?

His eyes opened wide as a chilling memory struck him like a lightning bolt.

Pushing up onto all fours, he looked across and saw his motionless, naked friend on the table, his right leg dangling over the edge.

He stood unsteadily, a heavy metal band pounding relentlessly in his head.

He grimaced and swayed, then stumbled towards the table, looking down in horror, as the memory swamped his mind.

The women killing him, then, then ... Drinking him, drinking his blood?

Travis was dead, no doubt about that, a severe cut across his throat and an already healing puncture mark over his heart showcasing the cause of death.

But the blood?

His body was clean, the only evidence that blood had been spilt was the dark patches that had already ingrained themselves into the table.

Spluttering now, he braced his arms on the table, hanging his head.

"Fucking bitches!" he moaned.

Bitches ... huh, the bitches?

He spotted his clothes and knelt down as he pulled the phone out of his trouser pocket, then rang.

The heavy metal band in his head were at fever pitch as the phone rang, forcing him to sob in pain.

"Hello?"

"Dad, dad ... Travis, Travis, some women killed Travis!"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, his father was there, accompanied by the Sheriff and his deputy.

Nathan had dressed although he felt mighty conspicuous as the sticky shirt clung to his torso.

The Sheriff looked dumbfounded as he stared at the body on the table; "What the hell happened?"

"These bitches, these crazy bitches killed him." Nathan replied meekly.

An hour later the area was a crime scene and Nathan was in police headquarters.

"You met this woman at Vinnie's Bar?" asked the Sheriff.

"Yeah, yeah Regina and the younger one, Raven."

The Sheriff was troubled by most things about the man's statement; a group of women killing someone then drinking his blood.

"Arrhh, what can you tell us about these women, surnames, distinguishing features?"

Nathan knew how it sounded, knew that he was in deep shit, but then the bright light shone for him.

"Ohh, ohh, I just remembered, I took photo's when they were standing outside the tent!" he gushed.

"Tent, what tent?"

"The tent they took us into."

"There was no tent at the scene."

"Ummm, they must have taken it down; maybe they packed it onto a truck or something."

"You said there were no vehicles at the site."

"God!" he fretted; "Where's my cell? Look at my cell and you'll see them, Regina and Raven! I took three photos."

The Sheriff walked back in with the cell phone in an evidence bag.

He slipped the gloves on then removed the cell from the bag.

"In the photo section, I presume."

"Yes." Nathan replied timidly ... Thank God for the photos!

The Sheriff looked at the three photos, his face lined with concentration, Nathan's father worried by the Sheriff's silence.

"Mr.Turner, could you step outside with me for a moment?"

The Sheriff closed the door and faced him; "Mr.Turner, you got a lawyer you can contact?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before we proceed any further, we need a lawyer to come down and look after your son's interests."

"But, but haven't you got photos of the murderer's?"

The Sheriff brought the cell into Mr.Turner's line of vision and produced the first photograph, then the second, then the third.

Mr.Turner was bamboozled; the photos showing Travis grinning like the bumbling fool that he was, but no women, no tent, just a single wooden table in the background.

"Your son needs a lawyer."

* * *

On the second of November, the fingerprints on the knife were identified as those of Nathan James Turner, and on the fifth of November, semen extracted from the victim's rectum was identified as belonging to Nathan James Turner. On the seventh of November, blood on the suspects clothing was identified as belonging to the victim.

The coroner stated that a large portion of the victim's blood had been drained from his body.

Nathan James Turner was formally charged with first degree murder on the tenth of November.

VAMPIRE MURDER! screamed the headlines the next day.

* * *

Sheriff John Hoskins sat in his office, happy that such a bizarre and grisly murder had been solved quickly and decisively.

Things still niggled though.

When Nathan Turner realised he was going down, he altered his story, stating that he was going to tell, 'The truth, the whole insane truth.'

He had admitted that the truth was simply, 'unbelievable' but he had laid it all down, every single detail.

The psychologist who saw Nathan stated; 'In my opinion, he is sane, although such an act of brutal savagery ... And his story, well I think his story speaks for itself.'

Sheriff Hoskins ran the story through his mind; 'Sisters of Salem ... raped, abused and hung in 1691 ... enter this realm every Halloween Eve ... seek out those with hearts surrounded by darkness ...'

* * *

Nathan James Turner was crumbling in every way.

Not because he was incarcerated, and not because he faced the prospect of spending the rest of his life behind prison bars; no, he was crumbling because of Them.

Every night when sleep found him, They would steal into his mind and make him live every moment of 'The disastrous event'.

The girl, Emily, crying and helpless, he and Travis doing despicable things to her, violating her in the most horrendous manner possible.

She, Emily, reaching up from the bottom of the dry well that had become her grave, pleading, beseeching, her agony seemingly endless.

Nathan snapped awake in a lather, panting, tears welling in his eyes.

He pounded on the door, knowing that the guards were going to be mighty pissed about being disturbed in the early hours of the morning, but by God, he just couldn't stand it any longer.

A scowling guard stopped outside his door; "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I need to see Sheriff Hoskins," he panted; "I have a confession to make."

* * *

Emily's bones were retrieved by week's end, and after searching through missing person files, she was identified as Emily Jane Carson.

Her parents were notified and she was officially laid to rest by mid-December.

Emily Jane Carson had been set free.

* * *

Twelve months later;

David Zubronski finished his meal at the truck stop and paid the waitress.

Surly bitch!

She didn't smile at him, didn't speak to him, actually seemed a little intimidated by him.

He scowled at her; If I didn't have to be in Nebraska by tomorrow night, I'd wait till you finished, follow you home, and then ...

He was in Nebraska the following night and made his delivery, pleased with himself, as he gazed at the full moon.

"Hah, full moon on Halloween Eve, eh? Might have a bite to eat and then see if there's any strays wandering around."

He finished his meal at the diner then walked out towards his truck, the waitress on his mind; What time does your shift finish Honey? Wouldn't mind getting to know you a little better ... his concentration broken by the voice.

"Excuse me,"

Zubronski turned to look at the silhouetted figures; "You talking to me?" he asked gruffly.

The figures stepped forward, Zubronski's mouth flopping open.

Two women, or maybe one middle-aged woman and her daughter, both wearing hooded black cloaks, their faces visible, their faces gorgeous.

"My friend and I are staying by ourselves at an isolated campsite, and we need a lift back; can you help us?" the older one asked.

Zubronski leered as he nodded; "Sure, no problem!"... Gonna rip this little bitch to pieces, right in front of your eyes mommy dearest!

Regina patted the pocket of her cloak, suspecting that the syringe would need to come into play sooner rather than later.

She felt repulsed by his leer, though she managed to smile for him as the connections began to open in her mind; This is him Cherie? This is him Melanie, Angie, Christine ...

THE END
Yeah, high-five Bro!

That's more like it!

I love witches!

Not witches who are gonna kill ya, but like witches who don't give a fuck about anything.

I should get those witches to be like my security guards at my cult, so like if the FBI comes snooping around, the supernatural bitches can go, Hang on, back off boys, this is private property, this is a cult run by Johnny Romero!

I noted that one of the witch bitches buck-slammed both the guys, so she wouldn't be a security guard, she'd be like one of my bed-mates.

And Raven, yeah, love that name for a little supernatural bitch!

But yeah, supernatural bitches, there's always gotta be a downside; I mean I'd want photos of all 'em naked, but how fucked off would you be when the photos don't turn out?

So yeah, like my plea to all supernatural bitches; stop with the trick photography bullshit!

Anyway's probably another story coming ... huh?

The girl walked up to him and smiled; "Hello."

Johnny Romero stared at her.

"Hi, my names Taylene Thomas."

"Ohh, ohh," he spluttered; "You the little bitch who swears!"

"Ummm, well my essay on the word 'fuck' is in this book, if that's what you mean."

Romero continued to stare.

The girl was slim and dressed in Goth style. Her jacket, dress and Ramones t-shirt were all black, her long hair was jet black and fringed at the front, and she wore Doc Martens.

"I love bitches who swear!" he exclaimed.

"Okay I guess, but come with me."

"Where? We gonna fuck?"

"God, in your dreams, but come, come with me."

"Where?"

"In here."

"In where?"

"Into this next short story."

"Huh, what the fuck?"

"Look, one time in English, we did this exercise where one person starts a story by writing down the first two sentences, then the other person writes the next two sentences and so on and so forth until you have a short story."

"Okay, yeah, I'll give it a crack and then we can play with each other's bits."

"Jesus, not going to happen, but come through."

"Arrhh, we can do the short story bullshit, then maybe you can flash ya little titties."

(Taylene Thomas's note to author; "I have to do a short story with this Tossbag?")

(Authors note to Taylene Thomas; "Sorry, you don't really get a choice.")

# The Short Story

"So you understand, I'll write the first two sentences and then you follow the story and write the next two sentences."

"Yeah, yeah," he said; "You only got little titties but I bet your nipples are pointy!"

"What the samlag?" she muttered; "I'll start."

Taylene began writing and three minutes later she handed the page to him, and Johnny read it.

On the darkest of nights, I heard a noise outside my window, like fluttering or flapping, and I crept tentatively over and I saw a man standing on the window ledge of my eighth storey apartment.

He said; 'Can I come in, will you invite me in?'

Johnny picked up the pen and wrote, then handed it to Taylene who shook her head after reading his contribution; "Hooo God, think I've found a seriously ligged-up Tossbag."

I said fuck off, but his sister was there as well, and I said, Darling, you can come in!

The bitch had long blond hair and big tits, and she was wearing a short skirt, and she goes, Thanks; want me to give you a blow job?

Taylene wrote.

The blond girl with the big tits actually fell off the ledge, which was good, because it enabled me to get back to the real story.

I stared at the man, not wanting to let him in, knowing that I shouldn't let him in, but there was just something about him...

Johnny read, then began writing.

The something about him was that he a tranny, and he fucked off to wherever trannies fuck off to, and another girl climbed into the room.

This bitch had even bigger tits and a shorter skirt, and she goes, Please, please Mr Romero, can I suck you off?

Taylene shook her head and glared at him; "This is how you wanta play this, huh?"

She began writing.

The man climbed through the window then stood to his full height, the man a masterpiece of his gender, strong features highlighted by striking blue eyes, the man masculine, all rippling muscle and gleaming flesh.

My heart did fairly flutter as I drank him in, and it fluttered again as he breathed out; 'My Princess, how may I please you?'

I didn't even see this greasy flapper come in see, because the blond flopped her tits out and pushed them in my face.

I had a major boner straight away, like I mean I could lift tall buildings with this boner see, and I says, Honey, Baby, open up and chomp down!

The gleaming, rippling man ignored the sleazy commotion going on around us, as he whispered; "I can see no-one else but you my Princess.'

Awash with anticipation, I lay back invitingly.

While the other clowns were carrying on with their chick-flick bullshit, my Princess was going off!

'Oh Johnny, you have the biggest cock I've ever seen!'

Yeah, funny thing, but I couldn't even see it, but I could see the penis of my Adonis as he peeled his loin cloth off.

I sighed with heated expectation; "Ohh gleaming, rippling man, kiss me.'

While that shit's going on, I'm already cumming for the second time, doggy-style, the bitch screaming the heavens down.

'Ohhh Johnny, you're the best fuck ever!'

And I hope everybody noted that the little Tossbag has supposedly cumm twice in about four sentences, but with my man, my warrior, my hero, my conqueror, we were both intent on taking our time and savouring the experience.

He gazed at me dreamily; 'Princess, you are the most gorgeous creature.'

Yeah, well I ain't never seen no Princesses getting around in Doc Martens and Ramones t-shirts, but the bitch, my bitch, she goes, 'You are so hot Johnny, I have to bring me friend around.

So like another hot bitch comes in, wearing nothing but long black boots.

Hopefully the boots will be used to kick this Tossbag's head in, but the gleaming, rippling one touches me, his touch electrifying me, my body alight.

I allowed his hands full access to my body, and he did explore, he explored me.

While they're exploring or whatever the fuck, I'm cumming for the third time, slamming into the bitch with the boots.

She's loving it this bitch, and she moans; 'My mom would love to meet you!'

Okay, well yeah, so I said move it along Cowboy, give me oral, make me cumm.

Fingers tickled, tongues licked, fingers inserted, teeth gently bit, me now in ecstasy, me having a real orgasm, not like the half a sentence orgasms you've unfortunately been exposed to so far.

So I go down on her mother and she's screaming, and the first bitch and the bitch with the boots are jacking me off, and the boots bitch goes; 'I need bigger hands so I can get them around this giant erection!'

So I toss her on the couch upside down and slam into her, and the mother and the first bitch are tickling my balls, and I says to the boots bitch; 'I'm just about to shoot some jizz up your vag and it will go right through your body and it's probably gonna come flying out your mouth!'

Yes, I could also entertain more than one lover, and another gorgeous specimen appeared before me, he concentrating on my breasts, his reverent touch titillating, and sigh did I, as Gleaming Rippling man pushed gently into me.

Gorgeous Specimen man seemed anxious, but I soothed him; 'There is enough of me for everyone.'

The first bitch and the boots bitch were both of their knees, taking turns sucking on my giant throbber, while the mother was pushing her moist pussy into my face. Then the bitch who fell off the ledge came into the room, and even though she was a bit bloody and banged up, I said; 'Knickers off Baby, you're next!'

I could easily outlast this Tossbag as far as sex goes, so I said to the girl who fell off the ledge; 'Come you poor little thing, all your problems will disappear when you touch my divine body.'

I squatted on a bench, and Gleaming Rippling man entered me from the front, while Gorgeous Specimen man entered me from the rear, and Banged Up girl introduced herself to my clitoris.

But I was having more fun because I was slamming boots bitch upside down, while also licking first bitch's pussy.

Mom was getting involved too, because with one hand she was tickling my balls and the other hand was fingering first bitch.

And I don't like to brag or skite, but Gorgeous Specimen man was sucking on one breast, while Gleaming Rippling man was sucking on the other, and Banged Up girl was licking my puss, then a God descended from the Heavens and stuck two fingers up my ass.

I lay back in breathless ecstasy thinking; 'Yeah, this is all about me!'

Yeah okay, but while I was licking the mother's puss and fingering her daughter and slamming the first bitch, I looked over at the Goth Girl, and both the guys who are supposed to be in love with her, are playing with each other's cocks. And I'm thinking, yeah, the only guys that Goth Girl can get is a couple of raving homo trannies.

Ohhh, okay; so I look over at the greasy little fucker, and he's playing with his own balls, and he's going to the mother, Stick your finger up my ass because I like it!

Then the First Bitch and the Boots Bitch come over to me and say; 'You've got a beautiful vagina, may we kiss it please?'

Shitbags; so I look over and the homo trannies are sucking each other's cocks, and whiny little Goth Girl is going, What about me?

So the First Bitch sticks her toe in Goth Girls vag, and Boots Bitch sticks the point of her boot up her ass, and Goth Girl screams, Yeah man, this is all I deserve!

Then my boys go over to the greasy little Tossbag, and Gleaming Rippling man starts fisting him, and Tosser goes, Yeah, I love this!

Then Gorgeous Specimen man pushes into his ass, so now he's got a fist and a cock shoved right up where it belongs!

And Banged Up girl is dripping blood onto Goth Girls vag, and First Bitch loses a toe-nail in the vag and Boots Bitch loses one of her boots up Gothy's ass, then the Alsatian from the other story sticks his slimy dog cock into her mouth and she's sucking like a vacuum!

Whiny little Goth Girl goes, Give me more, so then one of the homo trannies comes over and starts fisting the dog, and Whiny Goth Girl is like, Yeeeeaaahhhh!

And the Alsatian cumms all over Tossbag's face, and Tossbag-Tiny-Penis is wiping Gorgeous Specimen's semen all over his ...

(Concerned Authors note; Hey guys, guys ...)

No wait, let me finish; Tossbag smears dog cumm on his teeth ...

And Goth Girl has got homo trannie dicks in both ears ...

(Frantic Authors note; Guys, guys, settle down!)

And Tossbag is sticking cotton buds smeared with dog faeces into the eye of his cock ...

And fucked up Goth Girl is ...

(Decisive Editor's note; For fucks sake, just end it!)

THE END

# The Wolf With the Red Roses

Without a doubt, this was going to be the most bizarre thing she had ever done.

Having been a prostitute for more than three years, Jessica Van Ouyen had done some pretty bizarre things, but this promised to stand high above everything else.

This new experience wasn't going to be with a client though, it was going to be with her lover, Tyler Le Beau.

Jessica had met some strange and intimidating men in her time in 'the game', but the scariest person she had ever met was her lover.

Le Beau was a heavy metal rock singer, and in the great tradition of famous rock stars, Le Beau had very few boundaries, and of the boundaries he had, he was always willing to test their resilience.

Le Beau was so obsessed with Van Ouyen, that he had written a song about her, The Girl Who Knelt And Cried.

The song was a complete departure from the band's usual crash and bang style, the melody provided by gentle piano with underplayed orchestral backing, the backing at times appearing a little gothic and with a hint of menace.

The words to the chorus were;

She needs to be loved, she wants to be loved

But the man can only bend and break

When he hurts her, he hurts himself

But he cannot return, there is no turning back

So he stands and commands and roars

And the girl, the girl

The girl she kneels and cries.

It certainly wasn't a love song, it was more about possession and dominance, and it pretty much summed up their relationship.

Jessica knew that nobody was ever going to get a gold star for being nice in this relationship.

Her mind was in overdrive as she headed for the bathroom. She could imagine one of her friends asking; 'What are you doing this weekend Jess?'

'Oh, you know, Tyler's going to fly me down to one of his properties in Virginia and he wants to pierce my neck and drink my blood ... but what about you, what have you got planned?'

Jessica showered, turning her face into the warm water, hoping that it would relax her, but her mind was in chaos.

To become a successful prostitute, Jessica realised early on that 'No' needed to be the least used word in her vocabulary, but maybe that should have been the word she directed to her lover; I've thought about it Tyler, and thanks for asking, but no thanks!

After dressing, she zipped up her bag as an un-nerving wave of apprehension lapped at her consciousness.

Feeling the way she was, the least sensible thing she could possibly do was play it, but play it she did, and the monologue to Meatloaf's, You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth drifted out of her mini stereo.

On a hot summer night ...

She'd had a tough life to date, her left wrist a testament to how tough it had been.

Would you offer your throat to the Wolf with the Red Roses ...

"I should be the only person who's allowed to cut me." she mumbled.

Staring, almost in a trance, she gently tickled the fingers of her right hand over the faint scars on her left wrist; the faint scars telling of punishment, contrition, absolution ...

Would you offer your throat ...

Jessica saw the Wolf in her mind, the Wolf laying the Red Roses at her feet, tears of anxiety welling in the beast's eye's, the eyes fixed on her throat, the eyes pleading with bestial intensity.

Jessica rested her left arm by her side, needed any physical evidence of her shortcomings to be out of her view, as she moved across and turned the mini stereo off.

She took a moment to review her current situation; waiting for a man to come and pick her up and take her to the airport, then she'd fly to Virginia for the sole purpose of having her lover cut her neck and drink her blood.

So bizarre was it, that it was almost funny; almost.

Right on the stroke of 3.30, the limo pulled up out the front of her apartment, and watching from her window, she saw the driver alight and soon after her intercom buzzed.

Jessica drew in a few slow breaths, picked up her suitcase, snibbed and locked her door, then walked to the elevator.

The driver took the suitcase from her, opened the back door for her, and after she was seated, he placed the suitcase next to her.

Inside 50 minutes they were at Baltimore-Washington International airport, and the driver carried her suitcase and led her up to domestic departures, booked her in and then nodded to her; "I will be picking you up on Sunday; thank-you Miss."

40 minutes later she settled into her seat, and as the plane took off, she tickled her fingers over her exposed left wrist, the Wolf refusing to leave her mind.

She thought about one of her lover's songs, The Angel Of Darkness;

I am your Angel and I shall take the light from you,

Follow me into the darkness, but be afraid,

For I know not where we are going ...

Staring at her wrist, her mind fully occupied; Ummm, forgot to tell you Tyler, but you know, sometimes I like to know where I'm going ...

* * *

At Virginia International, another driver strode up to her; "I trust your flight was pleasant; let's collect your luggage shall we."

* * *

They drove in silence, a long drive, and as the night started closing in, suburbia seemed to be vanishing, replaced by barren stretches of land, then as they climbed up a small winding dirt track, heavily forested areas appeared before them.

Night had truly settled as they drove up to an old, isolated mansion, one of the huge rusted, wrought iron gates opened in observance of their impending arrival.

The car drove slowly up the drive, gravel crunching underneath its wheels, Jessica feeling chilled as she looked at the size of the double storey mansion.

The building was a hundred feet wide at its front with neglected and overgrown bushes climbing up each side of the building, and eerily, the only light from inside seemed to be faint and flickering.

The driver got out and crunched his way to her door, opened for her, then grabbing her suitcase, led her up to the front door.

He had a bag in his hand and held it up for her attention; "I have been instructed to inform you that you must remove all your clothes and put this on in substitution."

She accepted the bag off him and pulled out the garment, a long, white satin robe, so sheer that it almost escaped the sense of touch.

Jessica gazed at him as he turned his back to her, and as little butterflies fluttered in her stomach, she began undressing.

The robe fell to her ankles and with the car's headlights in her direct line, the robe was fully transparent.

The driver averted his eyes then opened the door for her, and after she had stepped in, he placed her suitcase and clothes on a chair then faced her.

"I will collect you when I am summoned," he stated, then let his gaze wander over to the stairwell; "I trust it will become apparent where you must go."

Jessica looked at the stairwell.

Slim, foot high candles burned on each step on both sides of the stairwell, and as she gazed in wonder, she heard the front door click closed behind her.

She skipped across to the window wanting to call to him, but her voice had caught firmly in her throat as she watched the headlights wind down the driveway, turn onto the track, then disappear from view.

"Wait," she squeaked, as she pressed her nose against the windows pane; "I'm not sure if I like it here."

Slowly, intentionally slowly, she turned to the stairwell.

She became aware of the music, music that seemed to be swirling in the air, Middle Eastern influenced with dominant harp and flute, the music moody and anticipatory, a young female voice softly chanting and warbling a tale that could only have been born out of sorrow.

Jessica stepped lightly over to the bottom of the stairwell and gazed up, candles flickering, although the landing was in darkness.

Walking in the very middle of the stairs, she took them a step at a time, occasionally a tread creaking out a tired acknowledgement of having been stepped upon.

The robe felt as if she were wearing a wisp of air, and Jessica drew in a breath as she stopped on the landing. The first floor was up the next flight of stairs to her left, but clearly that wasn't her destination as it was cloaked in darkness. A small door had been left opened to the right of the landing of which appeared to be a mezzanine floor, and Jessica gazed down the narrow hallway which was lighted by the occasional candle.

Softly she padded down the hallway, the candles light flickering as she swept past each one, the music seemed to be getting louder, the pain in the young girls chant becoming ever more obvious.

Ten feet from the end, the hallway seemed to be bathed in soft light, and as she walked into the light, she gasped.

She gazed at the room, her eyes wide with wonder.

It spanned forty feet by forty feet, its high domed glass ceiling showing a million stars in the sky, golden wallpaper glistening on each wall. It was sparsely furnished, just a grand four poster circular bed adorned with a multitude of white pillows by the front wall and a Jacuzzi near the rear wall. The Jacuzzi was white and circular and sunk into the ground, the surrounding area in dark grey, almost black tiles. Around the Jacuzzi were five rows of candles, ascending in order of height, similar rows of candles surrounding the bed, and above her, their flickering light reflecting in the glass ceiling, twenty pot-bellied candles burned in a glistening gold chandelier.

Smoke rose from two woks sitting atop tripods, the tripods positioned on each side of the bed, the smoke issuing the unmistakable aroma of marijuana.

"Glad you could make it."

She turned to his voice, hadn't even noticed him in the Jacuzzi, the right side of his face in flickering shadow.

"Will you join me?" he asked.

Uncomfortable, apprehensive, feeling as hesitant as she could ever remember, she glided over to the Jacuzzi, slipped the robe off and slid in next to him.

The Jacuzzi hosted them for twenty minutes, he kissing her with a restrained passion, his right hand caressing her breasts.

She enjoyed being handled with such reverence, but then he stood and got out, his already half-erect penis alerting her to his state of mind.

Still both dripping, he took her in his arms and unfolded her on to the bed, then lay down next to her, the weight of his body sagging the bed.

"You okay Jess?" he asked quietly, as he picked up the knife.

Staring at the small knife, Jessica understood that this was real, this was actually going to happen, and for a moment she looked into his eyes, noting that they blazed with expectancy.

"I'm scared Ty," she whispered; "But if you confront that which scares you, you reduce its power."

She knew who she was, she was Jessica Van Ouyen of Baltimore, Maryland, but instinctively she knew that she was just about to become someone else.

She lay naked on the bed, naked and exposed in every possible way, knowing that she was only moments away from being violated in a manner she had never experienced before.

Her clients pawed and groped her, they rammed and reamed her, but now this, her lover preparing to cut her and taste her.

Strangely, the song drifted into her mind, the words altering slightly;

And the girl, the girl,

The girl she knelt and bled ...

Fully accepting of her situation, she folded her hands together over her stomach, closed her eyes and let He Who Has Knife lead her into the darkness.

Le Beau gently pushed her face to the right and pierced her skin, the girl wailing in the background, the music suddenly a little more urgent.

He licked her neck then sucked her neck, the sucking drawn out and nasally sounding, Le Beau sucking her broken skin right into his mouth, the sucking curling her toes and having her fingers claw into the quilt.

Soon his wet lips were on hers, the moistness irresistible, Jessica pulling his head down, but he retreated to her neck, licking, sucking, the sucking making her groan, then his lips and tongue were between her thighs, the moistness excruciatingly pleasurable, and Jessica began her own chant, hers more desperate than the girls, hers seeming to mollify the urgency in the young girls chant.

Le Beau slid in effortlessly, her thighs bloodied and moist, and he moved with a delicacy he rarely employed, all the time engaged at her neck sucking, sucking, sucking ...

* * *

She enjoyed the strong arm around her, trusted him, because he had been right.

She did feel exalted and exhilarated; they had reached into the darkness and touched that which is not to be touched, and her orgasm was like a sky rocket streaking into the sky, and once it had reached its optimum speed, it exploded into a million pieces, then water-falled its burning embers into her minds file of things never to be forgotten.

Jessica kissed his cheek as she stretched lazily; "For you Ty, what was it like for you, how does it feel for you?"

"How does it feel, how?"

He was silent for minutes, then his voice reflective; "When the words come to me, when I can properly express how it felt, I'll write about it."

"You'll write a song about this?" she cooed.

"Jessica," he took her gaze, the eyes more piercing than ever; "This experience deserves to be recorded, you deserve to be immortalized."

Jessica nestled back in, pierced and drained yet comfortable and secure.

She addressed his neck with her lips, her tongue gliding along his jaw bone, then quickly her lips back to his neck. She cast him a glance and noted that he had closed his eyes, his tongue occasionally licking at his reddened lips. His pale complexion made him look quite ghoulish in the faint light, her attention focussing on his lips.

To her it looked as if someone with no fingers had applied lipstick to his lips with a paint brush, and from the right hand corner of his mouth a single rivulet of blood slowly trickled. Her blood.

Her right index finger glided along his bottom then top lip, the wet and sticky finger then being referred to her mouth, and she watched in silent fascination as her tongue licked the finger clean.

The blood had no taste that she could identify, and a nervous emotion tap-tap-tapped on her consciousness; I offered my throat to the Wolf, so how about the Wolf offer me ...

Her finger to his lips, the finger gathering the wet, sticky blood, then her tongue invited to lick at her finger, a taste now becoming identifiable; the taste of immortality.

A drop of blood fell from her neck and landed on his right shoulder, and Jessica stared at it in wide-eyed wonder; then another drop fell and her tongue lapped it up, the blood still warm, irresistibly warm as her gaze turned to his neck.

His neck, his neck ...

She ran a finger from under his chin, let it dribble to his throat and she was just about to repeat the action, when something caught her attention.

The knife sat by his left shoulder, sharp yet indolent, the finest of red streaks on its underside.

Le Beau with eyes closed was silent and almost motionless, the only movement his chest inflating then sinking.

Jessica leant across and took the knife in her hand.

The curved and glazed handle felt comfortable in her grip and she propped herself up as she stared at the knife.

The handle felt smooth and cool in her hand, and her attention was caught as another drop of her blood splattered onto his shoulder.

She licked the blood, the blood warm and welcoming, and in a trance, she ran a finger down the blade of the knife, watching intently as the finger lingered at the point of the blade and intentionally pricked itself, a small bud of blood forming, and she fed the finger into her mouth and sucked.

She rolled her head to the left and sucked in a large breath of the marijuana smoke, her eyes closing as she drew it back, could sense it travelling up her nasal passages and mushrooming into the membranes of her brain.

She exhaled slowly, smoke being expelled and her mind loosening as she let the point of the knife slide gently across his neck; Would you offer your throat ...

Having blood sucked from her neck had given her a sense of wicked exhilaration that she had never before experienced, so how would it feel to drink his blood?

Would you offer your throat to the prostitute with the knife?

Leaning out over the tripod, she drew in heavily, held then expelled, her focus now on Le Beau, the focus centred on his neck as the blade ran ever so lightly across his throat.

The sharpness opened his eyes and he looked at the knife, then at her; "Jess?"

He noted that her eyes seemed somehow different, seemed to be displaying a depth that he had never witnessed before.

"My turn Tyler." she cooed, and with an easy stroke, she pierced his skin and watched as blood lazily pushed to the surface.

Her first action was to kiss the cut, her tongue then invited to investigate the blood, the blood feeling wet and silky on her tongue, then with her mind seeming to expand with grandiose purity, she ran the knife down the same line, hungry all of a sudden as she sucked in another vapour and held it in.

Le Beau sunk into submissiveness, was prepared to let her take whatever she desired.

Jessica expelled via mouth and both nostrils, a haze of smoke drifting aimlessly as she kissed and licked, the blood flow a little more genuine now, able to appease those who hungered.

When she had tasted her own blood on his lips, it was invigorating, breath-taking, but this, drawing it up, sucking the blood out of his body was something else again and she whispered; "Oh yeah, bleed for me Tyler."

Squeezed up against him, lapping at him, warm moisture on her lips and tongue, the fingers of her right hand sliding across the slippery path that was now his neck, her fingers wading through the blood and gathering as she slowly licked each finger, the fingers of her left hand then sliding across and dripping with redness and warmness.

Her right hand now wet and descending, hesitated just below her stomach, then she licked again, licked and sucked, and her right hand settled between her thighs, the soft tissue of her vagina gloriously moistened by her lover's blood, and she didn't know if it was her or the chanting girl who was groaning, so she sucked harder now, her right hand almost quivering in its rapid execution as she panted; "On a hot summer night ..."

Blown to pieces, burning embers water-falling, although Jessica not finished, her mission still to complete; and it was already erect, his erection craving heat and moisture, so she climbed over him, guided him into her darkness, and on her knees, she rocked back and forth aggressively, her quivering lips still buried in his neck.

* * *

The chanting girl was but a whisper now, the mystical melody just a breeze in the night, as Jessica rested her face on his right shoulder, felt her eyelids flutter, sleep tempting her.

In the flickering stillness, he spoke; "How do you feel?"

Exhausted and weary, but grateful and sufficiently indebted to raise her head and gaze at him.

"I will pay you a thousand chickens." she whispered.

Le Beau laughed, the act gently rocking her body; "What?"

Her eyes sparkled, and she directed their gaze towards his neck, light streaks of blood still visible near the small cut.

Jessica ran her index finger over the wound.

"You let me drink you Tyler, you let me taste that which gives you life, and I will pay you, I will pay you one thousand chickens."

Content, she prepared to snuggle back into him, but he spoke.

"Words are coming to me."

Jessica propped herself up and gazed at him; "Tell me."

He placed his hands behind his head, his gaze at the ceiling; "If my life had ended then and there, no regrets would I have ..."

He closed his eyes, seemingly deep in concentration; "Candles burning, the night a mystery,

She glides in, hair of flame, her eyes searching,

And there is light in her eyes, but not in her soul."

Her actions were still vivid in his mind, the gentle licking awakening his most hidden sensibilities;

"I challenge you, confront you,

But I cannot reduce your power as your lips find my neck,

She of a higher plane sings a song of passion and desire,

She sings to save us or resurrect us ..."

He remembered flickering open his eyes for just a moment, the girl almost ravenous at his neck, her right hand busily involved between her thighs.

"The Goddess of the night,

The Princess of the Dark,

She pierce me, she kiss me,

She takes my blood but she gives me life,

And she whispers, Bleed for me."

He remembered she had looked at him then, and his heart had stopped for a moment as he saw the complete abandonment in her eyes, blood heavy around her lips, a trickle down her chin.

"I will burn with you in the depths of hell,

But come now,

Feed on me, taste me,

Oh Princess of Darkness, feast on me."

And she had dived back in, sucking hungrily, and for a fleeting moment as his heart thumped back into motion, he thought he was dying, and the feeling was like no other he had ever experienced.

"The Darkness is dark yet illuminating,

Take me there, take me there my Princess."

She was impressed by his ability to translate the experience into lyrics so quickly and decisively, felt grand that she may be witnessing the birth of a song, but she also felt compelled to identify herself; "I'm not a Princess, I'm an Angel of Darkness."

Le Beau gazed at her, aroused by the intensity in her blazing eyes.

"I'm your Angel of Darkness Tyler."

Sleep came and she curled into a ball and fell into the most immobilising state of tranquillity she had ever experienced.

And she dreamt.

Like Bo Derek in '10', she was running in slow motion, although she wasn't running on a beach, she was running in the darkness, chasing that which she desperately craved, her white robe heavily streaked with red. The Wolf was kneeling reverently before her, its head bowed, its focus on the Red Rose clasped between its paws, the rose appearing to wilt under its gaze.

* * *

She was back home by late afternoon, and Jessica stood by her window gazing out at Downtown Baltimore.

Baltimore, the city she had grown up in, had spent her whole life in, but on this day, the city seemed different, seemed suspicious or un-nerved or something.

She had changed, had changed forever the previous night, although she couldn't isolate how.

The scariest man in the Universe had pierced her neck and drunk her blood, and she had returned the favour.

She had stepped into the Darkness.

Angels and Demons danced in her mind, the Demons becoming more dominant as the Angels seemed to be wilting in ecumenical decay.

She was Jessica Patrice Van Ouyen, but she was now a bigger and bolder version, no boundaries left to inhibit her, no barriers able to restrain her.

She had confronted the Wolf, and the Wolf now cowered in her presence.

On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the Wolf with the Red Roses?

Jessica Van Ouyen smiled; "Fuck yeah!"

THE END
Is that the same whacked out prostitute chick from before?

I mean it would take me three months to save up three bills for this hooker, but then I lay the money down and I'd be freaking out about what this nutbag is gonna do to me!

I like psycho chicks, just not psycho chicks with knives.

So like come on psycho chicks, get ya shit together and don't carry weapons, okay? Acting all psycho is cool, but don't attack guys who just wanta feel ya up a little.

# Victoria; the Place to Be

"Wow Chrissy, you look great!" Jenny exclaimed.

Chrissy smiled weakly, which Jenny noted.

"You okay?"

Chrissy sighed; "Charlene wants to go out tonight and I said, yeah, okay."

"Going out sounds like good fun; how come you seem a bit hesitant?"

Chrissy bowed her head; "Well I'm a bit scared."

"How come, where you going?"

Chrissy could only look at her friend for the briefest of moments before she turned away and sighed again; "She wants to go into, into ... the city."

Jenny gasped, her right hand slapping over her open mouth. She shook her head in exasperation, then stated firmly; "No way, no way Christine, the city's too dangerous!"

Chrissy went and sat on the couch, her focus on her twiddling thumbs; "She, Charlene has never been in there, so yeah, I said I'd go in with her."

Jenny went and sat beside her, patting Chrissy's hand; "No, forget about it; Melbourne's streets have become ultra-violent and there's gangs of thugs everywhere!"

"I told her that Jen, but she, Charlene said that its on her Bucket List, you know, things to do before she dies."

"If you go into the city, you'll both die!"

Chrissy looked up, a tear meandering down her cheek; "I know, I know, but I committed myself."

Jenny was distraught as she placed her face into both hands.

Chrissy tapped her on the leg; "Charlene's going to be prepared though."

Jenny looked up; "Prepared?"

"Well yeah, she's arming herself."

"Yeah?"

"She said that she's got a variety of weapons."

Jenny gazed into mid-air, deep in thought, then tapped Chrissy's leg; "Come on."

"What?"

"You're going to go in prepared as well!"

Chrissy followed her into the bedroom.

"Okay, dress off." Jenny stated with authority.

Chrissy stepped out of the dress, and a moment later, Jenny fronted up to her.

"Arms up!"

"Ohh, do I have to?" Chrissy moaned.

"Just do it!"

Jenny guided the new article of clothing over her, did up the straps, then took a step back to observe her; "That's a good start."

Chrissy stamped her foot; "I hate bullet-proof vests!"

"Baby, Honey, if you're going into the city, you have to wear it!"

"But they're so heavy, and, and ..."

"And what?"

"It covers me up, I mean you can't see my cleavage!"

"Safety is more important than vanity, my dear."

In the background, the violence against women advertisement came on.

"It is everybody's responsibility to beat this issue ..."

* * *

In the city, panic in Police Headquarters.

"Chief Commissioner, the gangs have taken over the whole of the western side of the city!"

A sigh; "So what?"

"Women are being beaten, women are being robbed, women are being raped!"

Another sigh; "And you rang because?"

"Haven't you see the latest Violence Against Women ad?"

"That's not for us, that's for the stupid community!"

"Okay, well some of the stupid community doesn't seem to be taking the message on board! The thugs and the gangs are doing whatever they want to our defenceless women!"

"Oh, the thugs and the gangs? The thugs and the gangs have got rights; haven't you read your Charter of Human rights?"

"That's a load of shit which just gives more rights to the most violent and lawless members of our community!"

"Ho hum, sermonising again; just go out and do your job!"

"But you gave explicit instructions that nobody is to be arrested or hassled."

"Fairly clear instructions, I would have thought! This is all about community policing, not interfering with people as they go about their business."

"But women are being raped and bashed!"

"Question if I may,"

"What?"

"Who the hell do these women think they are, walking around the streets at night?"

"Are you suggesting that they're not entitled to?"

"Read the Human Rights Charter!"

* * *

In the Law Courts;

"You Honour, my client pleads not guilty!" declared the defence lawyer, Sam Slimebag; "So we ask that you release him on bail."

"Okay, so he claims that he didn't do it?" the judge asked.

"That's right."

"Good enough for me; bail granted!" the judge slammed her gavel down.

The prosecutor strode up confidently; "Your Honour, the rape and murder were captured on CCTV, and we also have twenty-five witnesses who will identify the defendant as the murderer, so I strongly oppose bail!"

Slimebag strode out and dropped a brown paper bag in front of the judge, winking.

"You Honour, this is Victoria, everybody gets bail!"

"Your Honour, you cannot possibly release a murderer out on to the streets!" the Prosecutor protested.

"Alleged murderer, counsel," the judge said as she checked the contents of the bag; "Bail granted on the condition that your client be subject to an 11pm curfew."

Slimebag leant over and spoke to the murderer, then returned his focus to the judge; "I'm sorry Your Honour, my client isn't happy about the curfew."

"Midnight?" the judge asked.

The murderer shook his head vigorously.

"Ummm, 2am?"

Further shaking.

"Well, what then, what will he agree to?"

Slimebag leant in and received the whispered response from the murderer, then turned to the judge; "We're happy with 6am."

"Okay, your client must observe a strict curfew and is not allowed to be on the streets between 6am and 7am each day."

The murderer motioned for Slimebag to come over, and Slimebag lent his ear, then turned to the judge; "You mean except for week-ends, of course."

* * *

In the Council Chambers, all was not well, a hasty meeting being called.

"The Government is hassling us about why we haven't put the CCTV cameras in yet." the Mayor stated; "They allocated the money to us twelve months ago, and now they want some action."

The Deputy Mayor's Personal Assistant sighed; "Just tell them that we are conscientious objectors to having 'Spy Cameras' all over our district."

The lone Conservative Councillor raised her hand; "Wait a minute, studies show that CCTV cameras are having a significant impact on reducing crime and they also have become a vital tool in helping police catch offenders."

"Yes, yes, we're aware of all that nonsense, but the cameras are just "Spy Cameras'; Big Brother watching us all." moaned the Deputy Mayor's Personal Assistants, Secretary.

"Unfortunately, in today's violent society, CCTV cameras are here to stay, and we don't need to debate it, we just need to install them as soon as possible." the lone Conservative stated.

"Who are you, Hitler?" the assistant Deputy Mayors Media Liaison Officer inquired; "CCTV cameras are an invasion of privacy!"

"No, they are not! As a young woman, they make me feel safer when I'm walking down the streets, and I think that there should be more of them!"

The Gender-Fluidity Assistant to the Mayors Personal Secretary leant over to the Divisional Head of the sub-committee Investigating The Effect of Climate Change in Rio, and smirked; "I think this bitch is the new Hitler."

The Mayor huffed; "Young lady, the Government has allocated the money to us, but we've already spent it so that we can all go to the Olympics in Rio, so no, sorry, no more CCTV cameras!"

"But the Federal Government is spending millions of dollars on ads about stopping Violence Against Women, so we should embrace this and get the CCTV cameras installed immediately!"

The Council Treasurer smiled, then tapped his Personal Assistant on the wrist, then the Personal Assistant nudged her Community Relations Officer.

"Ohh yes, sorry; look Ms, CCTV's are an invasion of privacy, and this council will not tolerate our rate-payers being put under daily scrutiny."

The lone Conservative stated; "CCTV's are designed to help stamp out crime and also to keep everybody safe on the street!"

"Ho hum, boring!" declared the Personal Assistant to the Secretary of Rubbish and Removal; "As a Council, our main jobs are to pick up waste, collect fines and create red tape issues that infuriate our rate-payers!"

"Ummm, and also to use rate-payer's money to go on overseas holidays in winter." someone added.

"Ohh, yes of course; I'm looking forward to the Olympics!"

"Actually," someone piped in; "We do not refer to them as overseas holidays, we refer to them as Fact-Finding Missions."

"Ohhh yes, I do apologise."

The Mayor gazed at the Assistant Head of Parks and Gardens; "What happened to your nose?"

The man cringed; "Ohh, I was walking my dog in a park and this lady ... arrhh, never mind; I actually propose that the only camera should be in the park to capture female ruffians!"

"No, CCTV cameras is a no; they are an invasion of privacy and they are infringing on everybody's civil liberties."

"But they help catch the bad guys and they make the streets safer for women, and just let me remind you, women make up fifty per cent of this district!" the lone Conservative exclaimed.

The Mayor glared at the lone Conservative; "Violence Against Women has got nothing to do with us; if women get beat up on our turf, we still expect them to pay their rates. The Big Dogs can fight that battle, we're more interested in increasing fines so that we can have a little spending money when we go to Rio for our holiday!"

"Ummm, Mr Mayor,"

"What?"

"You mean when we go to Rio on our fact-finding crusade."

"Ohh yes, of course."

"Excuse me,"

"Yes?"

"Can me and a few of my friends go to Rio too?"

The Mayor gazed at her; "Who are you?"

"Me, I'm the new Ethnic Diversity Assistant to the Personal Assistant of the Secretary for Rubbish and Removals."

The Mayor glanced at his Personal Assistant; "We have an Ethnic Diversity Assistant for Rubbish and Removals?"

"Rubbish and waste should be ethnically inclusive Mr Mayor; plus, your Personal Assistants Transgender Inclusive Officer got her the job."

"Okay, sure."

"So we're all agreed; the money for the cameras should be used to fund our Rio jaunt?"

"No, this is a disgrace!" the lone Conservative cried out.

"Ignore her, and while we're on the subject, I have an important item on the agenda." the Ethnic Diversity Assistant stated.

"Go ahead."

"Most of us live in this district, but as we're councillors, I don't see why we should have to pay rates."

The Mayor shook his head; "Well we're the same as everybody else; we're rate-payers too."

The woman smiled; "Mr Mayor, we're Councillor's aren't we? So that means that we should be able to use our diplomatic immunity, and exempt all Councillors from paying rates."

"I like the idea, but if the public found out, they'd go crazy. They think we waste too much money anyway, and if they found out we exempt ourselves from paying rates, there would be hell to pay."

"Why don't we just pay our rates out of the rate-payers money?"

"That's worth investigating."

Someone added; "We could pay our own rates out of the rates pool and then each of us could also take a little bonus from the rates pool each year because we thought of this new initiative."

"Good idea, and then maybe we could ask for more money for CCTV cameras and use that money to give ourselves another little bonus around Christmas time."

"Errr, don't say Christmas time; Christmas is a Christian term," someone interrupted; "We refer to it as Season's Greeting time."

"Sure, sorry; and instead of worrying about stupid CCTV cameras, why don't we make it that every street in the municipality has to have permit zones?"

"Ohh yes! And the rate payers would have to pay to get a permit to park out the front of their own homes!"

"And parking fines would go through the roof!"

"And we could also introduce a law that all rate payers need to buy permits to enter their own homes as well!"

"And we can install parking meters at all train stations and shopping centres!"

"And we could introduce tolls for all the major roads!"

"Or tolls for all the roads!"

"And maybe even tolls for all our major footpaths!"

"And how about parking meters out the front of every house?"

"We could also fence off all the local parks and make it so that people have to pay to use them."

"And coming up with all these innovative ideas, we should probably give ourselves another pay rise!"

"And also another bonus from the rates pool!"

"Ohhh, this is going to be a good year!" the Mayor smiled.

The lone Conservative walked out in disgust.

* * *

The Violence Against Women ad played in the background.

"Okay Chrissy, here's my can of mace, keep it in your handbag."

"Sure."

"And this is a Swiss Army knife that has five objects that can do damage."

"Noted."

"You'll have to wear slacks, and then we can strap this Bowie knife to your ankle."

"Ohhh, okay."

"Do you want the gun holster over your shoulder or around your waist?"

"What calibre?"

".33."

"Ummm, shoulder thanks."

"A Taser for your jacket-pocket, and most importantly, give me your cell."

Jenny typed a number into the cell.

"Who is that?"

"My friend Clint; if you get in trouble ring him straight away."

"Why?"

"He has an AK-47."

"Handy to know."

"And his friend Harry has a rocket-launcher."

"Okay, well I'm feeling better about this now, although I must say that we shouldn't have to do this; women should be allowed to go out and enjoy themselves."

Jenny smiled compassionately; "Honey, this is Victoria; the lenient sentences given to thugs by the judges make us all targets."

* * *

"Chief Commissioner, we've lost half the city!"

"And you're ringing me because?"

"Women are being slaughtered everywhere!"

"Serves them right for having the audacity to walk on the thug's turf."

"But the streets used to be everybody's!"

"Stop whining and don't arrest anybody."

"Why?"

"I want to keep my crime figures down; now bugger off, I'm having dinner."

* * *

"Okay Mr Criminal, if you promise not to hurt anybody, I will grant you bail." the judge said.

Slimebag leant over and listened to his clients reply, then turned to the judge.

"I'm sorry your Honour, my client can't agree to those terms."

"Well inform him that I won't grant him bail then!"

Slimebag strolled casually towards the judge's bench, his hands behind his back, his smile wide; "Do you understand the Charter of Human Rights?"

"Yes I do."

"Then grant him bail."

"If he won't agree not to harm anybody, I won't grant him bail! You have to understand my position, if I grant him bail and he kills someone else, the Herald-Sun will blame me and start picking on me."

"I thought you liked getting your name in the paper for giving lenient sentences."

"I do, indeed I do, but those damn Violence Against Women ads are putting unwanted pressure on me."

Slimebag leant in close and whispered; "How about I organise another brown paper bag for you?"

The judge looked to the Clerk of Court and said brightly; "Bail granted!"

* * *

The next morning;

"God, what happened to you Chrissy?"

"Oh, fucked-up night. Me and Charlene got assaulted by a gang."

"But, but I armed you, you should have been able to defend yourselves!"

"Jen, there was twenty-five of them!"

"God, didn't the cops help you?"

"Well yeah, initially they did, but the civil libertarians where there and they filmed the whole thing."

"Ohh, so that's good?"

"God, no! The cops got arrested for trying to stop the thugs assaulting us, and the cops are now all facing charges of harassment."

"Ohh God, fuck this State!"

"Well yeah, you got that right!"

* * *

At Radical Thinking Primary School;

The six-year-old twins, John and Betty were in trouble again.

Ms C looked stern, tufts of hair jutting out from under her arms. She wore a badge on the right side of her jacket which stated; 'It doesn't matter if the asylum seekers are terrorists, just let them go!; and a badge on the left side of the jacket; 'Kill anybody who argues against global warming!'

Ms O was more composed, staring at the six-year-olds. Her 'Kill all Christians!' badge was proudly displayed on the right side of her jacket, a badge declaring, 'Wait, no; torture them first, then kill all Christians!' having pride of place on the left side of her jacket.

Ms C glared at Betty; "You wore a dress to school?"

Betty trembled then meekly replied; "It's, it's my school dress."

Ms C flared up; "You're gender-identifying, you stupid little cow; haven't I told you that you should wear gender-nullfying, uni-sex track-suit pants?"

Ms O on the attack; "And you bought a doll to school? What on Earth were you thinking?"

Betty trembled; "Teacher said bring in something you really like for show and tell, and Scuba-diving Barbie is my favourite toy."

"Don't you have any soldiers or a football, you numbskull?" Ms C boomed.

"Or any cars or guns?" Ms O shouted.

"I bought my football in." John said meekly.

"Ohhh God," Ms C sighed; "You should have brought the doll in; don't you understand what we're trying to do?"

Ms O interjected; "Don't say God, there is no God."

"Ohhh, of course, sorry," Ms C apologised; "You will both have detention for every day of this term because you brought gender-inappropriate items to show and tell."

Betty was cowering, and meekly offered; "I like Scuba-diving Barbie."

John added; "And I like football."

"Morons!" Ms C shouted; "The only one who can play a masculine sport is Betty!"

"But I want to be on the football team." John moaned.

Ms O could see the tears forming in John's eyes, so she sought a compromise; "Maybe he can play with the girl's team."

Ms C considered; "Okay, and Betty can play with the boy's team."

"Great idea!"

"Enlarging on that, maybe all the girls could be on the boys team and all the boys on the girls team."

"That is a gender-nullifyingly brilliant idea!"

The inquisition of John and Betty wasn't over though.

Ms C was steaming; "And you both brought in umbrella's? Didn't you read the Professors paper on global warming? Don't you thick-heads understand that it's never going to rain again?"

Betty cowered; "It was raining this morning."

John looked up timidly; "And it's still raining."

Betty added; "The Professor had an umbrella this morning."

John was on the move; "Dad said that we won't be able to go our favourite holiday destination, because the place where they were going to build the dam is flooded again."

Ms O gained Ms C's attention; "Actually we don't call it global warming anymore, we call it climate change."

"Ohhh?"

"Yeah, that way if it's too hot, we can say, yeah that's because of climate change, or if it's too cold we can go, see, that's because of climate change, or if it floods, we can say, we told you so; climate change."

"Ohh, you are a clever woman!"

"Arrhh, don't gender-profile me!"

"Pardon?"

"You called me a woman."

"What should I call you?"

"Well, arrhh, a human person."

"Ohhh okay, and I can refer to myself as a non-gender-specific human person."

"Actually I want to be referred to as a non-gender-specific, sexually ambiguous human person."

"Okay, and I will refer to myself as a non-gender-specific, sexually ambiguous human person identifying as a cactus plant."

Ms C turned her focus to the frightened six-year-olds.

"And John, did I see you going to the boy's toilets?"

"I, I'm a boy."

"You fool! If you identify as a gender-neutral, you can go to either the girls or the boys toilets."

John looked up timidly; "I'm scared of the sex offender."

Ms O raised her eyebrows; "Sex offender?"

Ms C explained; "Ohh they caught a convicted paedophile sexually assaulting a few whiny little students in the girl's toilets."

"He's been arrested?"

"God no!"

"Don't say God, there is no God; but why wasn't he arrested?"

"Obviously him identifying as a gender-neutral over-rides any restrictions placed on him, so he can use the girl's toilets whenever he wants."

"I'm not happy that he's sexually assaulting young girls."

"Ohh don't worry, we told him that he's only allowed to assault the girls who refuse to identify as gender-neutral, or girls who have Conservative or Christian parents."

Ms O considered; "Maybe we're taking this issue a bit too far."

"Don't be silly, we need to fight hard for this cause, Long live the revolution! Plus, who cares if a few obstinate pre-teen girls get sexually assaulted, I mean they're not our children."

"Okay, but we don't want to encourage violence against women."

"Don't gender-profile!"

"Sorry, I meant that we don't want to encourage violence against non-gender-specific human persons."

"Well look, the judges couldn't care less about violence against women, I mean the sentences are just getting lighter and lighter. I like the way the judges are thinking though, because soon the murderers and rapists won't be getting sentences, they'll be getting prizes for committing crimes against women."

"What about if we get attacked?"

"No, don't worry; the murderers and rapists are targeting mostly pretty white, conservative girls with Christian backgrounds and nice bottoms, and I think that's a good thing."

"Yeah, the little bitches getting what they deserve."

The Violence Against Women ad came on, and Ms C switched the TV off.

* * *

A phone call;

"Good morning Go-Between, how are you?"

"Good Golden Goose, yourself?"

"I'm looking in the mirror, so I'm feeling fantastic."

"Good to hear; I have an assignment."

"Do tell."

"A murderer, Rob Criminal was released on bail last night."

"A murderer released on bail?"

"Honey, this is Victoria."

"Yeah, I have a suggestion for a new number plate slogan for this State."

"Which is?"

"Victoria, the place to be ... for criminals!"

"Unfortunately it's true; I'll send you the details."

Susie Kalatrini spent every moment of the next three weeks tracking his movements, recording the details in her diary.

A few consistencies began appearing, the most regular being that he returned to his home address by 6am every weekday, and interestingly, Mr Rob Criminal seemed to be tracking somebody else's movements.

She was a petite blond, barely fifteen, Mr Rob Criminal seemingly becoming tense and edgy when he saw her.

On a mild night, Susie watched him watching the petite blond.

Maybe the blond had been at her friend's house, and was now walking home, although Susie's paternal instincts were pricked; "Your friend's parents couldn't drop you home?"

A dark night, no people walking, hardly any cars, Mr Rob Criminal crouching behind the changing rooms at the sports oval.

Petite blond stopped when she got to the sports oval.

From her observations, Susie knew that the petite blonds house was on the other side of the oval, but Susie whispered to herself; "The oval is dark Honey, don't be lazy, walk the long way home, stay on the sidewalk under the street-lights."

Telepathic lines may have been opened, for the blond took a step onto the oval and then stopped. She looked left, looked right, looked behind her, then she seemed to draw in a breath, then began walking across the oval, her pace quickening with every stride.

"Jesus!" Susie blew out; "The younger generation, always looking for the easy option."

Susie slid silently out of the car and stealthily moved around the outside perimeter of the oval, her gaze fixed on the edgy, crouching figure.

She didn't want the girl to hear any commotion, so she slunk up near him and whispered; "Hello."

The man was startled and sprang to his feet; "Huh, what?"

"Hi." she said, her hands behind her back.

The man shook his head in bewilderment; "Do I know you?"

Susie smiled for him; "I believe we have a few mutual acquaintances."

The man looked her up and down, obviously pleased with what he saw; then he leered; "Hoh, bitch, you got no idea what's coming your way!"

Susie bowed her head in disappointment; he was supposed to reply, Who are the mutual acquaintances? But no, this Dipshit had thrown the script out the window already.

Susie watched as the petite blond crossed the oval, crossed the street and scampered to her house, then she turned her focus back to him.

He was large, 6'2" and built, and from his file, she knew he was aggressive and combative, and that bought another smile to her face.

"You been watching her, Mr Criminal?"

He seemed surprised that she knew his name, but then the leer developed again.

"I'm just watching you slut, watching you draw your last breathes."

He was big, intimidating, so Susie decided not to dilly-dally as she asked; "You gonna kill me Mr Criminal?"

"Rape ya first slut, fuck the shit outta ya, then kill ya!" he snarled.

"Okay, but before you do, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine."

"Huh, what?"

"My friend Mack," she said as she plunged the knife into his stomach, lifted, turned, dragged, pulled out then double thrusted, lifting, lifting with all the strength she could muster.

He crumpled before her, not a sound, not even a whimper, Mr Rob Criminal already on his way to meet his maker.

Susie blew out in pants, then composed herself, waiting to deliver the punch-line that nobody would ever hear.

"My friend Mack," she wheezed; "Mack the Knife."

THE END

# Epilogue ... (and Advertisments)

Johnny Romero had finished his duties as a short story introducer, and he waltzed into the staff room, then stopped dead still, his eyes wide, his heart thumping.

Bitches everywhere.

Hot looking bitches everywhere.

Johnny Romero thought he must be in heaven, while Davo sipped his stubby as he stared at the collection of desirable women.

Jennifer Blake turned to her agent Tony; "How come that skank gets the most comfortable looking chair?"

Tony seemed embarrassed and whispered' "She was in two of the short stories."

"Ohhh," Jennifer mulled; "Is she the psycho chick?"

Tony dithered and mumbled, but the 'psycho chick' leant back in her chair and gave a calm and relaxed smile.

"I'm not actually a psycho chick, I'm one of his premium characters."

Jennifer shifted uncomfortably; "Ummm, premium characters?"

"Yes," Jessica Van Ouyen began; "I'm not just in the short stories, I'm also in four of the authors books."

"Wow, lucky you," Jennifer mocked; "In four books playing a psycho bitch!"

Johnny Romero couldn't believe he was in the same room as Jessica Van Ouyen; "Are you like, I mean in the short stories, yeah, I mean, hoooo, you know,"

Entertaining a calm and relaxed smile, Jessica waited for him.

"Are you, are you like a prostitute?" he stuttered.

"I used to be." she replied; "Books one and two; Three Bills of Happiness (word count 123,037) and The Good Ship Lollypop (word count 126,364)

"Honey, baby, I got fifty bucks!" Johnny blurted.

"Mr Romero, for fifty bucks you get to shake my hand."

Taylene Thomas was excited yet un-nerved by being in this woman's presence; "Excuse me miss, but yeah, the thing with the knife, you and the rock star drinking each other's blood, that really happened?"

"Yes, book three, Earth, Soul, Rock'n'Roll. (126,322 words.)"

Everybody stopped and turned as a figure stood in the doorway.

She was female, it was easy to tell, for she wearing nothing but a balaclava and running shoes.

Johnny Romero's jaw dropped and Davo dropped his stubby.

Reiemi was observant; "I shall ask this only once; is that lady wearing no clothes?"

Taylene Thomas was intrigued; "Arrhh, you looking for someone?"

"Me, no; just thought I'd pop in and say hi."

"Who are you?" Jennifer asked.

"In this guise, I go under the label of the Naked Jogger."

"Hmmm kind of appropriate," Taylene mused; "But why are you here?"

"I'm in the author's first stand-alone book, The Voyeurs Club, (word count 92,578)"

"What's the storyline, is it just about you running around naked?"

"Well I go for a few naked jogs, yeah, but the book is about me and my three friends hiring a private detective to see what our husbands get up to behind our backs."

"Interesting concept," Taylene noted; "And does your husband play up?"

"He certainly does, although there is an interesting twist in regard to his young lover."

"Which is what?"

"Let's just say that I was surprised to discover that I'm bi-sexual."

"Hoo, swinging both ways." Jennifer stated.

"Anyway, I must be off; bye!"

Johnny Romero had a stiffy and Davo got himself another stubby as he puffed out; "Jeez, I shoulda asked her if she'd fuck a dog for a million dollars."

Johnny's heart-beat was just starting to regulate, and he declared; "Whiny little Goth Girl would let a dog fuck her for nothing!"

"Shut up Tossbag!" Taylene replied; "Anyway, I'm in a book too!"

"Which one?"

"The Sisters of Salem (word count 80,322) which is his second stand-alone book, and I guess I should mention that I have a female lover as well."

"I love lesso's, just not whiny little ones like you!" Johnny snorted.

"By the way it reads, Psycho Chick goes dyking around too!" Jennifer pointed out non-too subtly.

Jessica never flinched; "Being of Nephilim ancestry, being a budding Immortal, I can do whatever the hell I want, including getting involved with a variety of passionate and sensuous women."

"Arrhh Nephilim ancestry?" Taylene asked timidly.

"Yes, the first of my ancestral line was sired by the Fallen Angel, Azazael."

"Whoa, spin-out!" Melissa Christoph exclaimed.

Reiemi was still flustered; "The lady, the lady with no clothes; she was wearing no clothes, yes?"

"Arrhh, what did she call herself, The Naked Jogger wasn't it?"

"Naked she was, for I, Reiemi, formerly of the House Of The Vestals, did see her holy bits, the holy bits did I see."

Johnny gazed at the slim blond.

She had it all going on. Her pretty face exuded a sense of innocence, although with golden braids in her hair, golden necklaces and bracelets dangling everywhere, and diamond rings on every finger, she looked pretty slutty too.

Johnny puffed out; "Hoo, I love Vestal Virgins!"

Reiemi held her head high; "I, I who is me, I am a former Vestal."

"Ohhh yeah baby, and now you're a stripper!"

"Errr, I prefer the term exotic dancer."

"I got fifty bucks baby!"

"Sorry, bifty fucks?"

"No, fifty bucks to pay you for a lap dance!"

"I only accept gold coins."

"Damn," Johnny sighed; "Maybe I'll use the fifty bucks to buy that DVD of you and the horse-guy!"

Reiemi blushed; "I shall say this only once; the sale of bestiality DVD's is illegal."

"What?"

"I said that the sale-"

"No, sorry, I heard what you said; the 'what' was just like an expression of surprise."

Taylene Thomas was intrigued by the former Vestal Virgin; "So the Centaur and you, you never actually had sex though?"

"Hello young girl who dresses in all black; to answer your question, no, Charlie did not penetrate me because he was simply too big."

"I went out with a guy who was nick-named, Horse." Melissa reminisced.

"Ohh, he had a big one?" Taylene asked.

"God no, his surname was Mustang."

"Arrhh, there is no God!" the Socialist protested.

Noah was sane and righteous, and although he was a little intimidated by being in this gathering, he offered quietly; "There is a God, he asked me to build the boat ... errr, ark."

The Socialist scoffed; "For all I know, you could be a fundamentalist, conservative, bible-preaching Neo-Nazi douchebag!"

"Actually," Jessica began; "The authors series of books is called, The Fallen Angel Series, (Seven books) and it is all about the Good Nephilim fighting the Evil Nephilim for the control of humanity."

The Socialist didn't dare argue with Jessica Van Ouyen, because there was just something about her. The Socialist stood timidly and slunk away; "See ya; I have to get to a protest rally."

"Hmmm, I read the short story about Satan, so maybe there is a God, you think?" Johnny asked.

"Well if Satan's real, why isn't he here?" Melissa wondered.

Brianna timidly offered; "I believe he's down in Rio."

Melissa leant back, her mind spinning; "Thinking about that Bree, maybe you and me should try and find an anteater."

"Whoa Mel, that really would be Walking On The Wild Side; but sorry, I'm too timid for that."

"Ohh come on; we'll find some ants and I'll roll us a joint and then ..."

"I'll share!" Reiemi said enthusiastically.

"What the joint or the anteater?"

"I state with a fair understanding of altered perception, that if I share the joint, I don't really give a toss about what happens after that."

Davo, stubby in hand, was glad that the conversation was centred on animals as he asked; "Vestal girl, would you let a dog fuck you for a million dollars?"

Reiemi turned away; "Please refer to my previous statement, and also to a previous, previous statement where I explicitly stated that I only accept gold coins."

"What about you Goth Girl?" Davo asked.

"Absolutely no way!"

"But you sucked that Alsatians dick!"

"That was a fictional short story, Tossbag!"

Davo turned to the mysterious figure in the corner.

The girl stood motionless, draped in a dark hooded cloak, a scarf around her neck.

"Are you, are you Raven?"

"Yes." she replied solemnly.

"Would you let a dog-"

She cut him off; "I only engage sexually when I have a task to complete."

Johnny was also intrigued by her; "Arrhh Honey, Baby, I never touched up a Supernatural Bitch; can I have a feel of your tits?"

"You can try," she replied, and it seemed like she had something else to say, so everybody remained quiet.

The room was silent.

Then Raven said; "I always carry a knife."

Johnny assumed that maybe the answer was no, then Hot, Un-nerving Bitch from Glen Iris said; "Me too."

Everybody looked at Susie Kalatrini.

Taylene spoke timidly; "Miss Susie, it seems like you have nerves of steel, and I love the way you hunt down bad asses."

"Somebody has to take out the trash." she smiled.

Jessica Van Ouyen gazed at Susie, not over-awed by her, but still full of admiration for her; "Ms Kalatrini, by the end of the book series, my body count has risen to six, but with you, thirty-seven, whoa!"

"Thirty-eight now."

"Of course, and I understand the masturbation, I mean every nerve in my body tingles when I end someone's life."

"Maybe we should get together some time," Susie began; "You know, kick off our shoes, have a Grange and maybe swap stories."

Jessica wore a calm and relaxed smile as she replied; "Sounds good, because you Ms Kalatrini, are my kind of gal."

(Editor's note to Author; A female prostitute, serial-killer from Baltimore, sharing a Grange with a female assassin from Glen Iris ... may be worth following up.)

Johnny, breathless, was following up; "You two deadly hot bitches wanta go dyking down on each other?"

Susie ignored him, her focus on Jessica; "Ms Van Ouyen, I can hear a bottle of Grange calling; will you join me?"

Without saying a word, Jessica rose elegantly, and hand-in-hand, they began walking.

Taylene called out; "Hey ladies, the author wants me to do another essay for the follow-up compilation of short stories which is going to be called; A Study of Modern Political Correctness Two (Or How to Samlag Your Way to Insanity)"

"What's your essay about?" Jessica asked.

"It's about naughty surnames from the phone book," Taylene replied; "Are either of you in the next book?"

Jessica smiled; "By the looks of the Editor's note to author, a couple of paragraphs back, my session with this ravishing yet dangerous woman might find its way into the next book."

"I'm sure it will," Susie agreed; "Plus he wants me in a story that shows how I first became a female assassin."

"Ohhh, can't wait to read that one!" Taylene gushed.

"What about you Reiemi," Melissa asked; "Are you in the next one?"

"I shall say this only once; I, I who is me, I am one of his favourite characters, so I, me, me who is I, will be there."

Taylene looked at Melissa as she asked; "You guys get a call up?"

Melissa smiled as she patted Brianna's hand; "Yeah, we did, and he wants us to ramp it up a bit in the next book, so I'm really looking forward to it."

Reiemi faced Raven; "Mysterious Girl, are you in the next book?"

"No, straight to a stand-alone book for me; I am in The Sisters of Salem with Taylene."

"Whoa, cheeky Taylene and a supernatural girl in a full-length novel," Brianna gushed; "I look forward to that!"

"Yeah, and I do an essay on the C-word in the book." Taylene added.

"What is this thing called the C-word?" Reiemi asked innocently; "Could you please explain, young girl who dresses in all black?"

"Ummm, ummm, it's a swear word that is used to describe an evil person, but it can also be used to describe a lady's ... arrhh, I think you would refer to it as a Holy Bit." Taylene mumbled.

Golden bracelets glittered and diamond rings sparkled, as Reiemi blushed.

"He asked me to be in the next one." Satanachia stated.

"Ohh, cool; more fucking and sucking!" Melissa exclaimed.

Taylene whispered into Melissa's ear; "And Tossbag Romero got the ass as being the story introducer/commentator, and all the other characters get to comment on the stories."

"He won't be missed," Melissa smirked; "Although I've been booked to comment on the short story that Romero does in the book."

"That sounds a bit weird, but then again, the next book is really weird, I mean there's Killer Puppets, more vampires and werewolves, a Demon-Slayer, swinging couples, kidnappers and Angels, while Reiemi meets Caligula, and the God, Yahweh even drops in for a chat."

"Anyway people, me and Ms Van Ouyen might go and play out our story right now," Susie smiled; "See you in the next book."

Everybody watched them walk out of the room, Davo frowning; "I never got to ask them if they'd –"

"Shut-up Tossbag!"

Satanachia Smith approached Raven; "Hey mystery girl, I'm kinda wound up; you wanta go grab a bite?"

"I am sorry, I am a spirit and I have no blood to offer you."

"That's cool; maybe you can kill someone and then I'll drink them."

"I only kill bad people."

"Whatever, good or bad, they all taste the same."

Everybody watched them leave together, the females seeming to glide rather than walk.

Tony helped Jennifer up; "Come Jen, we have a photo-shoot in an hour."

As they walked away, Jennifer gazed at him; "I'm not in the next book?"

"Arrhh, you're a movie actress and I book you to do movies."

"Sure, but I'm better than all those skanks put together, so if they're in the next one, I should be too!"

"Really?" he asked; "The main thing about you is that you're gorgeous, and nobody can see you if you're in a book."

"Hmmm, good point," she replied; "How's my hair; is my hair okay?"

"Well I can't actually tell, because, you know, this is a book."

Jennifer pondered, then called out; "Hey author guy, describe my hair please."

Jennifer Blake elegantly strolled away, the golden blonde hair swishing as she tossed her head back, the hair silky and luxurious, the hair having a life of its own, the hair having a presence about it, almost as if it were a person in its own right; the hair silky and luxurious, but also ambitious, the hair wanting to go to University and get an Arts Degree, and then maybe down the track, run for the Presidency ...

Jennifer read the passage then muttered; "Come to think of it, I don't want to be in his next book."

Melissa watched her walk away then turned to Brianna with a look of puzzlement on her face; "Hair getting an Arts Degree?"

It appeared as if Melissa was wanting a response, so Sophie, the dizzy blonde, asked; "I wonder which University her hair will go to?"

Melissa tapped Brianna's hand; "Come on Bree, we've got plenty of time before our scene for the next book; let's go find an anteater."

Brianna blushed; "Okay, but I'll need that joint first."

"I'm coming with you!" Reiemi declared.

"Sorry?" Brianna asked.

"If I, me, is meeting Caligula in the next book, I think I will need to suck back on a big fat one!"

"Sure," Melissa said; "Are you also interested in the anteater thing?"

"I, me, I who is me, if I have a joint, I don't give a fig what happens next!"

Taylene shook her head; "What the Samlag?"

Reiemi stopped at the door, her hands clasped in front of her silken gown; "I shall say this only once ... THE END.
Footnote; Johnny Romero skipped through a few pages, his brow furrowing, his right hand skimming through his hair (hair, which it should be pointed out, was never destined to go to University) Romero grumbling; "What? I get the ass?"

Berger placed a hand on Romero's shoulder and said reassuringly; "Fret not my friend; I shall do a poem to relieve thou angst."

THE BALLARD OF JOHNNY ROMERO

Alas, the boy hath been giveth the ass,

The ass hath he been given.

And the light on the building, doth be a light,

And the ass which has been booted, is my friends ass.

With callous indifference, they give him the boot,

But dear friends, more importantly, I need a root.

Ohh ye Vestal Virgin, so pure and so true,

The question I ask is, Can I stick my dick in you?

Little Raven is mysterious, I'm sure we agree,

Ohh Supernatural One, will you go down on me?

And Vampire Girl with the funny name,

Gobble me, then I'll do the same.

To the kissing girls, Melissa and Bree,

Just kiss my boner, it will be fun, you will see.

The sexy, killer girls are exciting yeah, but sheesh,

Killer Girls, leave the knives at home, please.

The talented English student who swears a lot,

Bend over Honey, and I'll give it a shot!

Huh? ... seventeen? ... That's okay, isn't it?

I'm twenty-four.

Jesus ... okay.

The talented English student who swears a lot,

Let's sit down and discuss, I dunno, poetry or something.

And Naked Jogger lady, I like you very much,

Come over here, while I have a squeeze of your crutch.

Actually, Author Dude, I wanta get cosy with the seventeen-year-old talented English student!

Hoooo, fuck you!

(Author's note to Berger; Taylene has already been booked to 'get cosy' with someone of her own age (and gender) in Sisters Of Salem, so just finish your stupid poem!)

Yeah okay Dickbrain ... the light doth shine ... or whatever,

So ye anteater, hey, just fuck off and let me lick God's pussy!

Johnny Romero read the poem, although it appeared that his angst doth not be relieved, for he muttered; "Fuck."

Reimei appeared impatient; "Excuse me man who is writing more words, stop please, for I have already said, The End!"

Man who is writing more words, wrote; "Reiemi, can I have a lap dance before you go?"

"Fuck-a-duck." Reimei mumbled, and as she doth begin to loosen her silken gown, man stopped writing.

# Glossary of Terms

• Lots of words (not many big words but)

# Acknowledgements

• Thank-you to the Dictionary People (and Spell-checker)

• Thank-you to the Doctors at the Facility (this new stuff is wicked man!)

• Thank-you to the nurses at the Facility (especially Chelsea with the big boobs)

• And a special thank-you to all the characters of this book, some who have persevered well above and beyond their call of duty (I apologise in advance, for what I do to most of you in the next book)

# Reviews For This Book

A man who liked this book said;

"I like this book."

A man who didn't like this book said;

"I didn't like this book."

An illiterate man said;

"I didn't read the book."

A snap poll indicated that;

• 33.33% of people surveyed liked the book

• 33.33% of people surveyed didn't like the book

• 33.33% of people surveyed can't read.

People who liked the book, also like;

• Taking their medication.

• Lap dances

• Samlagging.

• Satanism

• Masturbating (or as a former University Professor who is now in jail said; 'I wouldn't call it masturbating, I tend to think of it as getting in touch with my outer self.')

• Vestal Virgins

• Anteaters
Brendan Whittenbury lives in Melbourne, Australia, and his follow-up book, A STUDY OF MODERN POLITICAL CORRECTNESS TWO (OR HOW TO SAMLAG YOUR WAY TO INSANITY) will be available in October, 2017.

