tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7011451562870723042024-02-19T07:00:14.140-08:00Sessha BattoSword wielding Buddhist author of transgressive homoerotic fictionSessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-41655763147806470522019-01-17T15:45:00.004-08:002019-01-17T15:45:43.982-08:00I Remember<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I remember twenty. Being young and on
the edge of everything, itching to set the world on fire.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I remember thirty. A job I loved, a man
I adored. Kicking the world's ass and loving every minute of it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I remember forty. A home, a husband, a
three year old wonder who looked at me like I set the stars in the
sky even though I was exhausted and cranky.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I remember fifty. The boy now a teen,
tall and snarky and utterly frustrating. The career tabled to care
for my aging father. Splitting my time between two sides of the
country and feeling like I was never where I was needed most. But I
was writing, spinning worlds out of words endlessly, I was swamped
with possibility and eager to continue.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now I stand on the cusp of sixty. My
boy is now a man with a life and companion of his own. My husband
lost to the ravages of a disease he never admitted would claim him.
My father dead six months later when age finally caught up to him. My
words have fled, and the hours spin out endlessly before me. I fear a
decade of anxiety and panic and endless aching want for the things I
had, and thought I appreciated, but never had enough time or energy
to give my all to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last January I thoughtlessly proclaimed
I was coming out of the worst year ever. It was hard, certainly, but
I still had my husband, my father, my son, the people I built my life
around. Now I while away the hours cleaning and sorting and repairing
my hovel because it is all that is left. The future stretches on in
an endless haze of silence and avoidance and dread.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Cherish what you have, because
everything passes and it never comes back.</div>
<br />Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-10078710798686195152018-03-15T05:58:00.000-07:002018-03-15T05:58:16.356-07:00After the worst year ever...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheD38oHPX50fJMXC8QiUdwIL_eyzHQUbipHsbDmrbse-ZIBqqMIWTUwhbeeMjsnEbtxwT9sL36J3GGiQUkVdumcsNyGlberYjX2KmaxaII-sr7PkUsxWCAY2KrMFXHJ4kNOrpgfJ-Zq6ce/s1600/worst+year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1440" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheD38oHPX50fJMXC8QiUdwIL_eyzHQUbipHsbDmrbse-ZIBqqMIWTUwhbeeMjsnEbtxwT9sL36J3GGiQUkVdumcsNyGlberYjX2KmaxaII-sr7PkUsxWCAY2KrMFXHJ4kNOrpgfJ-Zq6ce/s640/worst+year.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As you may (or may not) have noticed, I have been far more absent than present of late. The past year or so has rocked me off of my foundations and I currently lack the spoons to do much of anything. In November of 2016 my husband fell ill. In February of last year the cause was determined to be pancreatic cancer. Three days later he was whisked into surgery for ten hours to have half his pancreas, half his stomach, his duodenum (the part of the intestine connected to the stomach), his gall bladder, and over 30 lymph nodes removed. We were hopeful that, indeed, surgery had managed to remove all the cancer and he would be one of the lucky few who survive this devastating illness. Once surgical recovery was done chemotherapy started. Several trips a week to the infusion center, for chemo, for fluids, for shots to bolster his immune system, not to mention the inevitable hospitalizations when those efforts failed.<br />
<br />
Through all this I maintained a stoic exterior. I went to every appointment, talked to every doctor and nurse, and continued to keep life as normal as possible for everyone. I drove the kids to work and school, did the shopping and cleaning, tempted my husband to eat even when he wasn't hungry, and, in general, tried to soldier on as if normalcy could drive the shadow from our doorstep.<br />
<br />
My efforts were futile. In January his condition deteriorated to the point where no more treatments were possible and he was transitioned to hospice care. Four weeks later he was dead. I knew it was coming, I thought I was prepared...but nothing prepares you to lose your partner of 36 years. And now I am adrift. I spend every day seconds away from a panic attack. The nervous churning in my gut is a constant. Sleep eludes me at night and dogs me during the day. Food is an uphill battle...and I cannot seem to get anything accomplished, even though there is a pile of urgent matters I need to tackle.<br />
<br />
At the best of times I have issues with communicating verbally. Face to face is difficult, and just the thought of speaking on the telephone sends me huddling in a corner. Yet there are urgent phone calls to be made, and I no longer have a partner to delegate those tasks to. I also need to go back to work. After a decade of freelancing while I divided my time between home and caring for my aging father, I now have to somehow convince an employer that I am worthy of hiring at the ripe old age of 59. The cost of battling cancer has left me deeply in debt, with all my retirement and savings long gone.<br />
<br />
So...for many reasons I haven't been as visible as I once was. I may become even less visible as I struggle to climb back out of the emotional and financial pit I have fallen into. But I haven't forgotten you. I want to come back. I even have some wonderful ideas percolating that, with luck, may even make it onto the page.<br />
<br />
Miss you all very much.Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-11357035384801455492017-08-18T06:45:00.001-07:002017-08-18T06:45:15.128-07:00New Release from Juliette Banks - Out of the Darkness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-VjQ5TCoEQXhYE7r0k78TZGWmCFlHvJPsHwAhNNZbjPqt8F-E6HIEA36tn7VgYTREZgT2X_TEl9bvqfztn2HFStBD36pZbHNMlMRlN_Lpgune0ujCFjA2yxvAwdquDr8Y7ULWFnk5g3p/s1600/Out%252Bof%252Bthe%252BDarkness%252BCover%252B3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="438" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-VjQ5TCoEQXhYE7r0k78TZGWmCFlHvJPsHwAhNNZbjPqt8F-E6HIEA36tn7VgYTREZgT2X_TEl9bvqfztn2HFStBD36pZbHNMlMRlN_Lpgune0ujCFjA2yxvAwdquDr8Y7ULWFnk5g3p/s400/Out%252Bof%252Bthe%252BDarkness%252BCover%252B3.jpeg" width="273" /></a></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>"I
can't keep traipsing three miles every time I want to spank that
delectable little behind of yours."</b></i></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US">As
a beautiful and famous model, she has the life many young girls dream
of.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Yet
the </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">missing
father; the predatory stepfather; the abusive lover; they all let her
down, and damaged her judgement about the men she meets.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US">She
thought she had met the man of her dreams, yet fate was cruel.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US">Until
one day, at an airport, she meets the strong, yet kind, dominant man
she had longed to meet.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Is
he the man she has sought her whole life? Will he show her the way
out of the darkness and into the loving, submissive relationship she
has always craved?</span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>"Oh
I work hard, but I play hard, too. Do you play hard, Marianne?" </b></i></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><u><b>NOTE</b></u></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><u>:</u></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
This book was previously published, under the same title but with a
different cover, under the author name of Rachel de Vine. The book
has sweet romance, but also contains explicit sex and some BDSM
practices. If this material offends you, please do not purchase.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Now on sale at Amazon for only $.99 for one short week</b></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /><b><a href="http://amzn.to/2fP9rnL" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> <a href="http://amzn.to/2w5qE2r" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> <a href="http://amzn.to/2uTiHcW" target="_blank">Amazon Canada</a> <a href="http://amzn.t%20o/2uTtfsG" target="_blank">Amazon Australia</a></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #4b4f56; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bTcqSR2sb7yXYm1vjqy49rVlzIUYCoMid-Ik2wTReJLeHVrfzmXVVxVqFdy6ENxj_g8MnRRzIZc5ZuUeNJBDRv3zOTEhlp76DIjHAn7YOFXu7H6907fQs_6gWahq1v2mKfuzvKxW89aA/s1600/I%252Bwant%252Bto%252Bsee%252Byou%252B%2528Twitter%252B1%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bTcqSR2sb7yXYm1vjqy49rVlzIUYCoMid-Ik2wTReJLeHVrfzmXVVxVqFdy6ENxj_g8MnRRzIZc5ZuUeNJBDRv3zOTEhlp76DIjHAn7YOFXu7H6907fQs_6gWahq1v2mKfuzvKxW89aA/s640/I%252Bwant%252Bto%252Bsee%252Byou%252B%2528Twitter%252B1%2529.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">We were
scarcely inside the door before William issued his first command.
"Down. On all fours." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">His
instructions were given in a calm, quiet tone, but I knew that he
meant business. I dropped to the floor immediately and waited, head
bowed, awaiting further instructions. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Crawl
over to the middle of the room." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I crawled
slowly on hands and knees across the room and stopped. For all my
submission, I had never felt so powerful and sexually voracious. I
heard William go over to the bar and pour himself a drink. I heard
the clink of a glass stopper and knew he’d poured a whisky or
brandy from one of the decanters on top of the bar. He walked back
towards me and stopped a few feet behind me. He stood for perhaps a
minute, without moving. I couldn’t see him but I sensed his eyes
taking in the curve of my bottom beneath the silk dress. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Lift
up your dress. I want to see you." I shuddered with sexual
anticipation and did as he said. I couldn’t resist arching my back
and pushing out my bottom as I did so. Again he remained still,
looking at me. Again he waited in silence for at least a minute. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Exquisite." He
left me where I was and went over to one of the armchairs and sat
down with his drink, and said nothing for a couple of minutes. I was
beginning to relax when he again spoke. "Anticipation." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">He didn’t
continue for a moment and I was unsure if I was expected to respond
in some way, or whether this was an instruction of which I was
unfamiliar. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Anticipation
is the key. You are anticipating what I might do with you. I’m
anticipating the pleasure that awaits us. Our minds are slowly
increasing the sexual tension. Don't you agree, Marianne, that
anticipation is the key?" </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>"A
man could go to war in defence of a body like yours, you know. You
hold most men in the palm of your hand.”</b></i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOM1jIogbXxSowizxm3Ut6ujxieJUNIvk_MwmNBHd28Vjh3B8ywryKx1PZOEOYc0mwnnUXj3X-UJxr9M3jzndRau115-AsSi7pvmSGBTEFGI5BjFhpHAO_JqAL0164llJCq4cpvSqHtv7N/s1600/Oh%252BI%252Bwork%252Bhard..backless%252Bdress%252BTwitter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOM1jIogbXxSowizxm3Ut6ujxieJUNIvk_MwmNBHd28Vjh3B8ywryKx1PZOEOYc0mwnnUXj3X-UJxr9M3jzndRau115-AsSi7pvmSGBTEFGI5BjFhpHAO_JqAL0164llJCq4cpvSqHtv7N/s640/Oh%252BI%252Bwork%252Bhard..backless%252Bdress%252BTwitter.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">He took off
my dress and my bra, and I sat before him, head lowered, ready to
submit. "Stand up. Place your hands flat on the cushion of the
other chair, and spread your legs, and wait for me to attend to
you." I did as instructed and heard William get up and walk
away, either to his bedroom or bathroom. I trembled, partly with
nerves and partly with sexual expectation. One minute passed, then
two. I remembered what he had said about anticipation. This was my
time to anticipate what lay ahead, and the sexual need within me
doubled in strength. I needed what this man was about to give me. I
needed him like I needed air to breathe and water to drink. I lifted
my bottom just a little higher and waited to be taken to heaven. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">William
returned. He had changed into his black jogging pants and t-shirt. He
placed something down on to the arm of the chair, but I daren't look
around. I remained absolutely still and silent. He bent over and
kissed my back and ran his hand over my bottom. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"A man
could go to war in defence of a body like yours, you know. You hold
most men in the palm of your hand, even strict Doms such as me, and
you have no idea of the power you have, do you? I don't think I have
ever met another beautiful woman who has less awareness of her beauty
as you have." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I didn’t
reply. I don't think he expected a reply. I’d heard this before,
and perhaps he was right. From childhood I had never been told I was
pretty and grew up with the idea that I was quite ordinary. Even
after I was discovered by the modelling agency, and became one of the
world's top models, I never really believed that I was beautiful. I
always thought my success was the result of a fluke, and that one day
I would be found out and exposed as a fake. Perhaps the messages I’d
heard over the years from men were at last starting to get through
the barrier that I had erected around my fragile psyche. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">My thoughts
were interrupted by a sharp slap on my bottom by William's hand. I
snapped my attention back to the present. Then came another stroke. I
breathed deep. I was back in the zone where I wanted to be. All I
could think of was this powerful, masculine man standing behind me,
raising his arm and bringing his hand sharply and crisply down,
warming my flesh and lifting us both to the joyful place of sexual
excitement and passion. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">William
gave me about twenty strokes with his hand, before stopping and
reaching between my legs. He plunged two fingers into my sex. I gave
a deep groan in response to the sudden intrusion. A sexual tremor
went from my pussy to my brain, and back again. God, I wanted this
man so badly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Yes,
Marianne, you want me as much as I want you, don't you?" "I
want you so badly. Please fuck me, Sir." He didn’t reply,
but pushed me down on to the chair, so that I was kneeling on the
cushion and leaning over the chair back. I felt his hard body press
up behind me and he pulled down his jogging pants. He leaned over me
and I could feel his breath against my neck. He took the lobe of my
ear into his mouth and gently bit on it, before kissing it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>There
was nothing I wanted more than to wake up every morning next to him,
even if I was tied to the bedpost.</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-VjQ5TCoEQXhYE7r0k78TZGWmCFlHvJPsHwAhNNZbjPqt8F-E6HIEA36tn7VgYTREZgT2X_TEl9bvqfztn2HFStBD36pZbHNMlMRlN_Lpgune0ujCFjA2yxvAwdquDr8Y7ULWFnk5g3p/s1600/Out%252Bof%252Bthe%252BDarkness%252BCover%252B3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="438" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-VjQ5TCoEQXhYE7r0k78TZGWmCFlHvJPsHwAhNNZbjPqt8F-E6HIEA36tn7VgYTREZgT2X_TEl9bvqfztn2HFStBD36pZbHNMlMRlN_Lpgune0ujCFjA2yxvAwdquDr8Y7ULWFnk5g3p/s400/Out%252Bof%252Bthe%252BDarkness%252BCover%252B3.jpeg" width="273" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Do
you like strawberries and cream Marianne? I’ve just tasted one and
they are sweet and juicy." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"Yes,
Sir." "Good. Open your mouth for me." He pressed a
large strawberry, dipped in cream gently against my lips and I opened
them to take a bite. When I had finished it I licked my lips. "You
have a little cream left on your lip. Let me lick it off." His
tongue swirled around my lips and removed whatever was there. "Now
it’s my turn to eat one, and I plan to eat mine from a very special
dish." I felt a strawberry placed on my stomach, in the dip of
my belly button. "I'd like some cream on mine too." A
small amount of cream was poured on top of the strawberry, and then
William bent over and ate the fruit from me, licking around the skin
to lap up the cream. I gave a soft moan, wondering if it was possible
to orgasm from the simple effect of strawberry eating. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">He fed me
another strawberry, and this time he ate the next two from my
breasts, making sure to lick the cream off thoroughly. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"There’s
one more place from where I would like to finish dessert." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I guessed
the place he had in mind. Sure enough his fingers went down between
my legs and a large strawberry was pressed between the lips of my
labia. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"You
seem to be producing your own juice down here. I don't think this
strawberry needs any cream. Would you like to taste yourself
Marianne?" </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The
question didn’t require an answer it seemed, as William plucked the
strawberry from its hiding place and placed in my open mouth. I could
taste and smell my own excitement on the surface of the fruit. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"I
think that the juice down here needs licking away, don't you?" </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">William
went down between my legs and began to lick my pussy. I was on the
edge of exploding with pleasure and he must have sensed it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">"I
want you to come, Marianne. I want to watch you come." </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">He lifted
his head, but his fingers remained to massage my clit, while he
thrust other fingers inside me. I called out as the most intense
feeling of pleasure that I have ever felt radiated out from somewhere
deep within my groin and sent shivers and goose bumps to my
extremities. I wanted it to go on forever. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">William
took off the silk scarf and saw my eyes were misted with tears, but
they were tears of joy at the experience he’d just given me. He
bent over and kissed me hard on my lips. I could see an expression of
lust in his eyes. He hadn't finished with me yet.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Was
it to be pleasure or pain this time, or perhaps a combination of
both, </b></i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>given
in the way that only he can?</b></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><u><b>About
Juliette:</b></u></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I write
erotic romance as both Juliette Banks and Rachel de Vine, and love to
write about sensual, romantic and erotic characters who lead
interesting lives, and who often have to overcome challenges along
the way. I prefer to write erotic romance, rather than straight
erotica, because I am essentially a romantic person, but I also like
to involve my characters in an exciting life of Dominance and
submission at different levels.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I am
British, love the rural life and live in a beautiful home in the
middle of the rolling English countryside. I also like to travel
around the world from time to time, and have visited some beautiful
and exciting places on the way. I am forever grateful that I was born
in a place and at a time to take advantage of the freedoms and
pleasures that are still denied to many people of the world. We must
never take such freedom for granted.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Contact
Links:</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Amazon Author Page
<a href="http://amzn.to/2vNL39e">http://amzn.to/2vNL39e</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
You Tube Channel
<a href="http://bit.ly/2v2oHUe">http://bit.ly/2v2oHUe</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
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Facebook page
<a href="http://bit.ly/2u33KUE">http://bit.ly/2u33KUE</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Twitter
<a href="http://bit.ly/2tHub2v">http://bit.ly/2tHub2v</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All Author
<a href="http://bit.ly/2vczFXJ">http://bit.ly/2vczFXJ</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Website
<a href="http://bit.ly/2vc12B5">http://bit.ly/2vc12B5</a>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div lang="en-GB" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-22159191353810846422017-05-22T07:51:00.003-07:002017-05-22T07:51:48.188-07:00Highland Pursuits is FREE until May 25th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZI8PeMBBFxAh4QGvEISwjz4J8eG3fHLeh6osMu6877uL_WV_XnGK5MaCg9faiF3Of-i9sXaQZAmKebyIrA5toGWqxvjOHb5wkLutruUslDeAGH1DmA44yiAAI5DTcrNv046QHaMjKQ1HP/s1600/Highland+Pursuits++a+Scottish+Romance+by+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZI8PeMBBFxAh4QGvEISwjz4J8eG3fHLeh6osMu6877uL_WV_XnGK5MaCg9faiF3Of-i9sXaQZAmKebyIrA5toGWqxvjOHb5wkLutruUslDeAGH1DmA44yiAAI5DTcrNv046QHaMjKQ1HP/s400/Highland+Pursuits++a+Scottish+Romance+by+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+.png" width="303" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Emmanuelle
de Maupassant recently launched her saucy 1920s romance romp:
'Highland Pursuits’. To celebrate, she’s offering a free copy for
your Kindle – but only for a few days, from 22-25</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>th</b></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
May. Don’t miss out.</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1520474385"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Amazon
US</b></span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>
</b></u></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/1520474385"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Amazon
UK</b></span></span></span></span></span></a></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>There’s
also a signed paperback of ‘Highland Pursuits’ up for grabs. </b></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Do
drop your name in the hat </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://promosimple.com/ps/b8d1"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>here</b></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>.</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1QGet80qT5PrMA2BBth-M-xSE2bzebQZQIQg3FdkSyi1DuQAwKuSjcZSGCe8ZWyJZg6S_AmGxgEkgLwKuxSV5ZYmH31Gp-R4AvUykReWGHFwTro-3xlO4euYV3rme7px0MySGJlqBzny/s1600/Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+Highland+Pursuits+quote+3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1QGet80qT5PrMA2BBth-M-xSE2bzebQZQIQg3FdkSyi1DuQAwKuSjcZSGCe8ZWyJZg6S_AmGxgEkgLwKuxSV5ZYmH31Gp-R4AvUykReWGHFwTro-3xlO4euYV3rme7px0MySGJlqBzny/s640/Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+Highland+Pursuits+quote+3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>1920s
debutante Lady Ophelia Finchingfield is banished to wildest Scotland
to come to her senses, having refused a proposal from the Earl of
Woldershire. In the care of her eccentric grandmother, Ophelia is
soon caught between rugged widower Hamish and the villainous Comte de
Montefiore.</b></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>She’s
ready to play with fire, but will she burn more than her fingers?</b></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5038Ej-qt7H_HqwVR9Z0qMGjq20lS6TyOKNT8qj8fa-SZNtxmIoQnlsBawppk-JYQB2mn-mo3RADmuPtHGBsNy65Q-VrDjyJU3lz6knVBeu3KCGtewtG6jDp11i7NAl-Ktdt_EcN8vD_-/s1600/long+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+Highland+Pursuits++copy+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5038Ej-qt7H_HqwVR9Z0qMGjq20lS6TyOKNT8qj8fa-SZNtxmIoQnlsBawppk-JYQB2mn-mo3RADmuPtHGBsNy65Q-VrDjyJU3lz6knVBeu3KCGtewtG6jDp11i7NAl-Ktdt_EcN8vD_-/s640/long+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+Highland+Pursuits++copy+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: 22pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>What
readers are saying</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>I
can’t tell you how much I love this book. It was a true delight to
read. The author has captured 1920s Britain wonderfully, and her
detail is exquisite. – </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1899553126?book_show_action=true&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Rachel
De Vine</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>As
a comedy of manners, this is exceptionally well done. – </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1903763833?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Fionna
Guillaume</b></u></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b> </b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Highland
Pursuits is a wry, clever, incredibly sexy romp… a completely
engrossing, utterly enjoyable read. I can't recommend it highly
enough…fabulously fun - </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1897500212?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Malin
James</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>The
scene was set beautifully… I felt like I went back in time to high
society Scotland - </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1904954625?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Christine
of Sweet and Spicy Reads</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;">
</span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Find
'Highland Pursuits' on</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33227868-highland-pursuits">Goodreads</a> </b></u></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>and
for sale on </b></span></span></span></span><a href="http://viewbook.at/HighlandPursuits"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Amazon</b></u></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15pt;"><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;">’ </span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Pssst…
if you enjoy Highland Pursuits, don’t forget to leave a
review. Reviews make books more visible online, bringing new eyes. If
you're on Twitter or Facebook, tag Emmanuelle in your review post and
she'll say hello. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: 22pt;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Social
Media Links</b></u></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Explore
Emmanuelle’s website </b></span></span></span></span><a href="http://www.emmanuelledemaupassant.com/"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>here</b></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
</b></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Find
her on Twitter </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://twitter.com/EmmanuelledeM"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>here</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>and
on Facebook </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/363589457368187/"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>here</b></span></span></span></span></a></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-66063077086257236272017-05-08T13:16:00.000-07:002017-05-08T13:16:04.132-07:00A long deferred update<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I admit, I have never been the most consistent blogger...but lately I have been completely absent. My apologies, but my attention has been elsewhere. First, there was the disastrous election here in the US, which left me fighting to keep my head from exploding. Then my personal world was knocked for a huge loop when my husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are interested, the early stages of the process are documented on his <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/pauls-pancreatic-cancer-treatment" target="_blank">GoFundMe </a>page (because, of course, we have no money set aside for a disaster of this magnitude). Now the surgical recovery is complete, and we have embarked on the long, exhausting path of chemotherapy and radiation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On top of all that, I am now the primary driver for the family, making sure Paul makes it to all his doctor's appointments, my son makes it to school and work, and his girlfriend makes it to her job...plus, of course, all the ancillary running around for groceries, prescriptions, and all the places a couple of 21 year olds need to get to!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, for now, writing is kind of on the back burner. I have the desire, but very little time to actually sit down and type without constant interruption. Hopefully this will change and I will soon have better writing related news to post here!</span>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-1658280855241309472017-04-21T07:51:00.001-07:002017-04-21T07:51:02.405-07:00Release Day - Morrow's Horizon by Sierra Kummings<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
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<span class="_3oh- _58nk" style="font-family: inherit; user-select: text;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morrow’s Horizon, the first in an all-new series of standalones from Sierra Kummings is now LIVE!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morrow’s Horizon by Sierra Kummings</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Genre: Contemporary Romance</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Blood, and love for a special little girl, bind the five Morrow sisters in an unbreakable way. Yet the family-devoted Sara Morrow yearns for more.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">And that “more” looks a lot like the irresistible Jacob Ramírez.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">For years, Sara’s contented herself with toe-curling fantasies about the CFO of the bank that employs her – all the while promising herself she’d never fall for the type of passion that destroyed her parent’s marriage. But when the one and only Latin six-foot-four god accepts her offer of help and turns her fantasies into reality, she’s forced to decide if it’s worth finding out if her boss is everything she’s dreamed of, or just the manifestation of all her fears.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jacob has his own set of fears. Right out of high school, he joined the Marines, only to come home six years later with night terrors that haunt even his days. Now, at thirty-three, rudimentary techniques keep his secret hidden.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Until a chance meeting with Sara Morrow coincides with a deception that rocks him to his core.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">When Sara’s faith is tested, her sisters’ love gives her the courage to believe in someone else. When Jacob’s is tested, he has to learn how to believe in himself.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Read Today!</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amazon US: </span><a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2nvXdyc&h=ATObNbPx_DyOjVBbPu89YuT-QgX5mlSudJEYTq9hCyxweGV74lWaBlUCW0miqMF7ka7ukMBmNSd9pTX_u73bWiCsHsPPZ5YHg-2KY3Lc5SjM-ZjRcTy03O2obNT0d3Fowddp_QfTnb7_KS0P2-U-pHw" rel="nofollow noopener" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">http://amzn.to/2nvXdyc</a><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amazon UK: </span><a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2FEyN654&h=ATObNbPx_DyOjVBbPu89YuT-QgX5mlSudJEYTq9hCyxweGV74lWaBlUCW0miqMF7ka7ukMBmNSd9pTX_u73bWiCsHsPPZ5YHg-2KY3Lc5SjM-ZjRcTy03O2obNT0d3Fowddp_QfTnb7_KS0P2-U-pHw" rel="nofollow noopener" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">https://goo.gl/EyN654</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Add to GoodReads: </span><a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2FXZfKYk&h=ATObNbPx_DyOjVBbPu89YuT-QgX5mlSudJEYTq9hCyxweGV74lWaBlUCW0miqMF7ka7ukMBmNSd9pTX_u73bWiCsHsPPZ5YHg-2KY3Lc5SjM-ZjRcTy03O2obNT0d3Fowddp_QfTnb7_KS0P2-U-pHw" rel="nofollow noopener" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">https://goo.gl/XZfKYk</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">About the Author:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sierra Kummings is a writer of contemporary erotic romances. Her three loves are her family, writing, and chocolate–though not always in that order. She discovered creative writing in high school, but set her dream aside to pursue a master’s degree in professional counseling. She now puts her degree to good use strengthening characters that have been in her head since her teens. In addition to penning hot romances, she also proudly claims the title of mother to an incredible little girl who inspires her every day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Connect with the Author:</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/SierraKummingsAuthor/" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/SierraKummingsAuthor/</a><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Twitter: @SierraKummings</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Stay up to date with Sierra by signing up for her newsletter:</span><br /><a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.sierrakummings.com%2Fnewsletter%2F&h=ATObNbPx_DyOjVBbPu89YuT-QgX5mlSudJEYTq9hCyxweGV74lWaBlUCW0miqMF7ka7ukMBmNSd9pTX_u73bWiCsHsPPZ5YHg-2KY3Lc5SjM-ZjRcTy03O2obNT0d3Fowddp_QfTnb7_KS0P2-U-pHw" rel="nofollow noopener" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">http://www.sierrakummings.com/newsletter/</a><br /><a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.sierrakummings.com%2F&h=ATObNbPx_DyOjVBbPu89YuT-QgX5mlSudJEYTq9hCyxweGV74lWaBlUCW0miqMF7ka7ukMBmNSd9pTX_u73bWiCsHsPPZ5YHg-2KY3Lc5SjM-ZjRcTy03O2obNT0d3Fowddp_QfTnb7_KS0P2-U-pHw" rel="nofollow noopener" style="color: black; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">http://www.sierrakummings.com</a></span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-78549945723330917152017-03-01T07:39:00.002-08:002017-03-01T07:39:50.512-08:00Release Day - Highland Pursuits by Emmanuelle de Maupassant<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Emmanuelle
de Maupassant is thrilled to announce the launch of her saucy 1920s
romance romp: 'Highland Pursuits’.</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7toWP8TvcRym0AatL3-PBPce-td8mkspYup3QuPY8nty8Fua-qVruHwIbr_KH7nGM167Tm-_100xTeiec0R8nJathyKJraOMDuUKv61WNb6qDk7F5uH0Pb7KTqRIWWf4G4fYYRrnUv0G8/s1600/Highland+Pursuits++a+Scottish+Romance+by+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7toWP8TvcRym0AatL3-PBPce-td8mkspYup3QuPY8nty8Fua-qVruHwIbr_KH7nGM167Tm-_100xTeiec0R8nJathyKJraOMDuUKv61WNb6qDk7F5uH0Pb7KTqRIWWf4G4fYYRrnUv0G8/s320/Highland+Pursuits++a+Scottish+Romance+by+Emmanuelle+de+Maupassant+.png" width="243" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>In
celebration, Emmanuelle is not only offering three signed paperback
copies, via Goodreads</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
</b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/223430-highland-pursuits"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>here</b></u></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>,
but has her entire catalogue on sale for 99c/99p from March 1</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>st</b></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>-8</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>th</b></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>:</b></span></span></span></span>
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/viewBook.at/BabyLove">Baby
Love</a>, <a href="https://www.blogger.com/myBook.to/ScarletEmmanuelle">Scarlet</a>,
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/viewBook.at/CautionaryTales">Cautionary Tales</a></b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
and </b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/viewBook.at/Gentlemensclub">Gentlemen's
Club</a> </b></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>(as
recommended by </b></span></span></span><a href="http://www.stylist.co.uk/books/best-new-beach-erotica-sex-sexy-passion-for-holiday-kicks-books-50-shades-bonkbusters-reads-fiction-2015"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Stylist
Magazine</b></span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>)</b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>1920s
debutante Lady Ophelia Finchingfield is banished to wildest Scotland
to come to her senses, having refused a proposal from the Earl of
Woldershire. In the care of her eccentric grandmother, Ophelia is
soon caught between rugged widower Hamish and the villainous Comte de
Montefiore.</b></i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>She’s
ready to play with fire, but will she burn more than her fingers?</b></i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: 22pt;"><span lang="en-US"><b>What
readers are saying</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>I
can’t tell you how much I love this book. It was a true delight to
read. The author has captured 1920s Britain wonderfully, and her
detail is exquisite. – </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1899553126?book_show_action=true&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Rachel
De Vine</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>As
a comedy of manners, this is exceptionally well done. – </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1903763833?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Fionna
Guillaume</b></u></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b> </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Highland
Pursuits is a wry, clever, incredibly sexy romp… a completely
engrossing, utterly enjoyable read. I can't recommend it highly
enough…fabulously fun - </b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1897500212?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Malin
James</b></u></span></span></span></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>The
scene was set beautifully… I felt like I went back in time to high
society Scotland - </b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1904954625?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1">Christine
of Sweet and Spicy Reads</a></b></u></span></span></span></span></div>
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</b></u></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>and
for sale on </b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b><a href="http://viewbook.at/HighlandPursuits">Amazon</a></b></u></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Emmanuelle
sends enormous thanks to her editor,</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>
</b></u></span></span></span></span><a href="https://koredesires.wordpress.com/sample-chapter-edit-special-offer/,"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b>Adrea
Kore</b></span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>,
</b></u></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>for
her help in bringing ‘Highland Pursuits’ into the world. She
says: </b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><i><b>‘Adrea
is an incredibly talented writer, and a wonderful friend. Her
editing skills helped bring the words alive. She is a marvel and
I'm so glad that one day, forever ago, we found each other.’ </b></i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>'Highland
Pursuits' draws inspiration from a short story of the same title
Emmanuelle wrote originally for the charity fundraising anthology</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
</b></span></span></span></span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31836073-because-beards?ac=1&from_search=true"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><u><b>Because
Beards</b></u></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>:
</b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>all
proceeds have been given to the Movember Foundation.</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>This
longer, novella, length offers more scope to explore the wonderful
characters' eye-popping shenanigans. Hamish and Ophelia were in
Emmanuelle’s dreams for many weeks, as she wrote this story. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Pssst…
if you enjoy Highland Pursuits, don’t forget to leave a
review. Reviews make books more visible online, bringing new eyes. If
you're on Twitter or Facebook, tag Emmanuelle in your review post and
she'll say hello. </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Explore
Emmanuelle’s website </b></span></span></span></span><a href="http://www.emmanuelledemaupassant.com/"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>here</b></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>
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<span style="color: #2f475a;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b>Find
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-3563070986796651152016-10-31T06:35:00.001-07:002016-10-31T06:35:24.574-07:00A final Halloween tale<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One final tale for this spookiest of holidays - definitely not safe for work!! Our memories and our reality don't always coincide, especially in the winter of love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Hooded
eyes kept watch on the tall figure across the room, tracking every
move as Peter pulled on some jeans and an old faded t-shirt. Armand
couldn't help the way his eyes followed the muscular backside as the
younger man turned and left, brushing past his silent observer
without so much as a murmur of apology.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Four
days</i>, Armand thought. <i>I've been trying to talk to him for four
damn days.</i> Every time he leaned close to whisper in his lover's
ear, Peter just continued on his way, leaving him behind.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>It's
almost Christmas</i>, he realized with a start. <i>Not that there's
any real winter in this godforsaken place.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
year ago this city had been their haven, a magical escape from the
too canny scrutiny of friends and family. Now it had become his
prison and he was locked in this hellish limbo. Five minutes. He just
needed to capture Peter's attention for five minutes. After almost
six years together you wouldn't think it was too much to ask.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
trailed down the street, never losing sight of Peter's taller frame,
although he made no effort to move closer. <i>What's the point. He's
too distracted right now. Maybe when he's getting ready for bed.</i>
Decision made, he slowed his pace.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">His
eyes narrowed when he realized their destination, but he persevered
and headed inside. He found a seat in the shadows, watching as one
man after another took the stage. Armand's eyes slid shut and his
mind drifted to days long gone, abandoning the present for shadows of
the past.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Come
dance with me.” He looked up into sparkling cobalt eyes and shook
his head to clear it.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Excuse
me,” Armand managed. “I didn't hear what you said.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Dance
with me,” the stranger insisted, pulling him up from his seat and
flush against his hard chest.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
don't dance.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Everyone
dances.” The dark-haired man towed him out onto the floor,
effortlessly guiding him through the steps until he finally began to
relax. “See, it's not so bad.” The husky whisper next to his ear
brought a blush to his cheeks and Armand buried his face in his
partner's broad shoulder as he attempted to will it away.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
haven't seen you here before,” the stranger continued. “I'd
remember you.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
turned wide chocolate eyes on the man holding him. “Why? There's
nothing memorable about me.” He slapped his hand over his mouth as
soon as the words left him.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"On
the contrary, that blush is memorable all on its own. The rest of you
even more so. My name's Peter, by the way, and you are?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Armand,”
he mumbled. “I just moved here.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Well,
aren't we lucky . . . at least, I am.” Peter chuckled, dipping his
shocked partner and then pulling him close.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
opened his mouth to protest, but a pair of lips were pressed to his.
Soft, slightly chapped lips displaying a dizzying amount of
experience. Slowly, gently, wonderfully, that sensual mouth moved
over his until he swayed up against his larger partner as his legs
threatened to give out. His hands moved to clutch broad shoulders,
and he clung to the taller man as sensation flooded though him.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Somewhere
in the middle of this perfect kiss, a tongue slipped into Armand's
mouth. He gasped as it caressed his, boldly tasting and teasing. All
he could do was moan helplessly, not even feeling the hands drifting
down his back to close over his ass. They squeezed gently, and Armand
tried to push himself closer. He never wanted this to end, the
amazing sensation could go on forever as far as he was concerned.
Tentatively he pushed out his own tongue, and Peter made a satisfied
sound in the back of his throat as he twined them together.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Finally
he pulled away as they both needed to breathe. Armand was a panting,
flushed mess, only held upright by the strength of his arms. “Now,
that was a kiss.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
stared at him out of dazed eyes. “You had no right,” he
sputtered.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Now,
now, I know you liked it,” Peter purred. “And I know I liked it.
What on earth is wrong with that?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'm
not in the habit of kissing strange men. You presume too much.” A
dark scowl settled on his face as Armand crossed his arms over his
chest. “I'm not interested, sorry.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
think you'll change your mind,” came the cocky reply. “In fact,
I'm so sure of it I'll agree to meet you here tomorrow.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"You'll
be waiting in vain.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'd
much rather waste an evening than miss out on the chance to get to
know you better.” Peter's soft, husky baritone sent shivers running
up his spine, and Armand knew he was in trouble.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Rather
than risk answering he merely snorted, pushing through the crowd and
out into the cool night air without looking back.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
blinked his eyes open in surprise and focused on the present when the
announcement came over the loudspeakers. <i>Finally.</i> He leaned
forward, resting his head on his crossed arms as he regarded the
lanky masked man strutting onto the stage.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">His
fists clenched at the sight of <i>his</i> lover, dressed in nothing
but a pair of tight black leather pants, a few straps of the same
supple leather wrapped strategically around his torso and upper body.
The mask covering his eyes made him seem mysterious, exotic, even
dangerous.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
music started, a heavy bass beat that rumbled the floor and sent the
watchers surging towards the stage. Anonymous men, pressing close to
try and touch all that perfect pale flesh.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
growled, but didn't move, watching through narrowed eyes as Peter
whipped them into a frenzy, stretching and twisting around the pole
for several minutes before thumbing open the button on his pants and
sliding down the zipper.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
went back to dancing, and Armand's mouth went dry at the tantalizing
glimpse of hipbone and silky smooth flesh revealed as he swiveled and
dipped. He nearly lost his resolve and rushed up on stage when his
lover tore the pants off with a sudden jerk.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
roar grew to a bellow, a sea of hands fisting bills. Instead of the
usual g-string, more supple strips of leather wrapped his cock and
balls, sliding in the cleft of his ass and continuing down long,
muscular legs.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">For
his part Peter merely shut his eyes and continued to dance, trying to
lose himself in happy memories. <i>This is all Armand's fault,</i> he
decided bitterly. <i>I don't have any other options left.</i> He
repressed the shudder that threatened to ripple through him as rough,
unfamiliar hands pulled at the leather straps cutting across his
flesh, slipping tattered bills inside as they stole a lingering
touch. He stifled his rising distaste, hiding in thoughts of the past
to avoid facing the present.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
knew you'd come,” Peter exclaimed in delight. His eyes drank in the
sight of the man who made his heart quicken. As soon as he'd spied
the coltish figure he knew he wanted a closer look. One glance into
liquid chocolate eyes and he was hooked.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He'd
worried for a few minutes that perhaps he'd been too forward. They
hadn't even properly introduced themselves before he stuck his tongue
down Armand's throat. Still, he couldn't have minded too much, he'd
come back.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
music was almost a physical presence, a heavy salsa rhythm that
pounded through his body, making it impossible for Armand to muster
his thoughts into any sort of coherent order. Peter pulled the
smaller man into his arms, swaying to the beat as he maneuvered them
skillfully off the dance floor and into a secluded alcove. He pressed
the slighter man into the corner, arms on either side, pinning him to
the wall. One of his lean thighs was thrust between Armand's legs,
hip pressed into his growing bulge.</i></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter's
laugh was wicked and sensual, and Armand couldn't find the will to
protest. A hand curled around the back of his head and mouths met,
tongues gliding together in an erotic caress. Hands slid down his
back, closing over his ass, worming their way under his shirt to
stroke bare skin. Armand grabbed the taller man's biceps with
bloodless fingers as their mouths mated. He knew if those wicked
touches slid any further down he would lose his mind.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"That's
the taste I've been craving,” Peter muttered when they pulled apart
to breathe. He dragged his tongue across the sensitive flesh at the
junction of Armand's neck and shoulder and was gifted with a breathy
moan that raised hairs on the back of his neck.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Why
me?” Armand gasped. “There's so many good looking men here.” He
waved an arm to indicate the swaying sea of bodies and the expanses
of perfectly toned flesh they boldly displayed.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"The
moment I saw you, I knew.” The whispered response sent a surge of
lust straight to Armand's groin. Peter captured his mouth yet again,
tongue plunging inside to dance teasingly over its counterpart while
the slight figure rubbed the evidence of his attraction against a
muscular thigh.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
pulled back, clasping wandering hands firmly in his larger ones. “We
need to slow down. I don't want to ruin this.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Ruin
what? We don't even know each other,” Armand muttered.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"All
the more reason to take our time. Personally, I think you look like a
keeper. I'll never have the pleasure of waking up next to you every
day if I scare you off right from the start.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'm
far from scared, although maybe I should be,” Armand admitted.
“I've never done this before. I moved here because I couldn't be
who I really wanted to be.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"You
wanted to be my lover?” Peter asked in amusement. “Fine. Settled.
What else can I do for you?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"It's
not nice to make fun of me. I'm fully aware of how ridiculous it is
to be a twenty-seven year old virgin.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Virgin?”
Peter's normally controlled baritone turned into a squeak and his
hands tightened, yanking the smaller man close to whisper in his ear.
“You have no idea how close I am to coming in my pants like some
horny teenager, at how exciting that is. I would love to be the one
to take you under my wing and teach you the ways of love. I've only
been in town a few months myself. I tried hooking up with a few guys,
but it never really worked out. Then I saw you.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
blinked his eyes and brought his focus back to the present when the
music ended. He hurried off stage, nimbly avoiding the grasping hands
in the sea of faceless admirers. He threw some jeans and a sweatshirt
over the remains of his costume and slipped out the back door.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
paced the hurrying figure, staying far enough back not to irk his
peevish lover, but close enough to make sure he was alright. He
waited patiently while Peter cleaned up and settled down, only
joining him on the couch after he'd had a glass of wine. “I really
need to talk to you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No
response was better than a brush off, so Armand plunged ahead. “I've
been trying to find the words, but it can't wait. I feel like you're
slipping away from me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
sighed and stretched. Armand watched in a fit of pique as he stumbled
to his feet and headed to the bedroom. By the time he caught up,
muted snores were rumbling out of the inert form sprawled diagonally
across their bed.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
settled in the corner, huffing in frustration. Tipping his head back
against the wall, Armand let his eyes slip shut. He fought back the
rising tide of anger surging inside of him, conjuring a vision of
happier times, anything to offset the despair threatening to crush
him completely.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
mattress bulged ominously, then exploded into the room, tumbling the
two men behind it across the floor to land in a tangled heap. “We
haven't even tried it out yet and already this new bed is bringing me
luck.” Peter leaned in for a slow sensual kiss, rolling his lover
underneath his larger form and rubbing against him suggestively.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Their
mouths met, and Armand lifted his hands to clutch at broad shoulders.
It was a long, deep, wonderful kiss, and his body was aching to move
on long before Peter abandoned his lips and began to lick the sweat
off his skin.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He
panted and made breathy sounds as that wicked tongue tickled over
sensitive flesh, quickly reminding him that he was amazingly
sensitive in the most unexpected places. The backs of his knees, the
crook of his elbows, the side of his neck, Peter explored them all,
taking his time, his hands following his mouth in caresses that made
Armand almost dizzy with lust.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
vote we christen the bed now.” The sound of his lover's voice had a
blushing Armand struggling to right himself on the toppled mattress.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"We
need to get it set up first, then put the sheets and things on. After
dinner will be soon enough.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
think not.” Peter yanked on Armand's leg, tumbling him back down to
sprawl wantonly on his chest.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Stop.
We have things to do.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Your
protests are getting weaker by the moment.” Peter's husky whisper
sent shivers racing across his skin. “There's no one here but us. I
want to celebrate. After all, it's not every day you move in with the
man of your dreams.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Stop
being so silly.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'm
not the man of your dreams?” The plaintive note in his lover's
voice had Armand taking a closer look. He was surprised to see his
boyfriend worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for
an answer.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Of
course you are. I meant we don't need to celebrate.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
want to celebrate everything with you,” Peter whispered as he
pulled the slighter form into his arms and kissed his nape. “Just
in case.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"In
case of what?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"In
case you decide you don't need me anymore.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Isn't
gonna happen.” Armand turned in the taller man's arm's and pushed
him back into the mattress, straddling his lap. “Now, what exactly
did you have in mind for this celebration?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
only response he got was a hot mouth closing around his nipple,
sending shock waves of sensation running straight to his arousal. He
sighed, wiggling a bit to settle Peter's erection comfortably in the
cleft of his ass. “Wait a minute. When'd you get naked?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"While
you were blathering on about making beds and eating dinner,” Peter
mumbled around his morsel of reddening flesh. Hard hands roughly
caressed his chest. Armand let out a loud groan when tormenting
fingers were replaced by a hot, wet mouth, leaving them free to
explore defined abs. He stilled for a moment when inquisitive fingers
undid his pants, dipping inside to stroke sensitive skin, sending
shivers through his frame.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
rolled them over and pulled back, slowly peeling off Armand's pants
and boxers. When he slid them free he gazed worshipfully at all the
delectable flesh revealed to his hungry eyes. He bent to nuzzle a
taut thigh before mouthing a wet path across his lover's balls and up
the underside of his straining member.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
let out a keening wail when lips closed around the head of his cock.
“Oh fuck, so good.” Peter’s hot mouth and talented tongue slid
down his length, twisting and twirling before sucking hard.
Retreating, only to retrace its steps. “Don’t stop,” he cried
when his weeping length was released, only to be swallowed to the
root yet again.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
was fighting not to come. The things that tongue were doing were
absolutely sinful. His cock hardened impossibly, dripping precum and
throbbing in time with his thundering pulse. He fought to stave off
his orgasm, thinking of every turn-off he could as he moaned and
writhed like a cat in heat. When Peter pulled back again he groaned
in relief, finally able to gain some control.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
feeling was short lived. Large calloused hands easily flipped their
positions and began tracing the planes of his back. Peter licked and
nipped a slow lazy trail down his spine, laying tender kisses across
the saddle of his hips before lapping and nuzzling pert buttocks. He
spread the firm globes and dipped his head to place a kiss on the
hidden pucker. He pressed his tongue against the fluttering hole and
flicked the tip, reveling in the wanton moan it pulled from
kiss-swollen lips. His tongue swirled and then dipped inside,
retreating to thrust deeper, stroking hot velvet walls, dragging
forth the most wonderful sounds and spurring him on.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Fingers
came into play alongside that wicked tongue and Armand was spread
wide and plundered, arching and groaning as his prostate was stroked.
His disappointment</i><i> over losing those taunting fingers
dissipated when the broad head of his lover's erection nudged his
loosened entrance. It pushed inside, his mouth flying open in a
silent O of pleasure and pain. He scrambled for something to cling to
on the unmade bed, having to settle for fistfuls of the slippery
mattress cover.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"So
fucking wonderful.” Peter's husky whisper trailed off into a
guttural moan as his erection slowly and inexorably sank in to the
hilt. He immediately began a measured slide, in and out, occasionally
adding a hard thrust that had Armand seeing stars. For his part, any
control he might have had was wrenched away by the wave of lust the
huskily whispered words triggered. When the hard length filled him
completely he was lost.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
increased the pace, keeping his lover's hips in a bruising iron grip,
pulling him back until he was almost sitting in the taller man’s
lap. A long fingered hand wrapped around Armand's dripping erection
and began to stroke him firmly in time with the thrusts, occasionally
adding a twist and the firm stroke of a calloused thumb across the
sensitive tip.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of his lover's whimpers.
Obviously his dream wasn't of happier times, the lanky figure
shuddered and shook. “Don't leave me,” Peter screamed as he flung
himself upright, panting and shivering. His eyes combed the shadows,
looking for something that wasn't there. He abandoned his search,
dragging himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He stared at the
haggard face in the mirror while the tub filled, gratefully immersing
himself in the steaming water and shutting his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Think
happy thoughts . . . easier said than done. </i>He sighed as the
tension finally started to leach out of his aching muscles<i>. Hasn't
been much to be happy about lately. </i>He cast his mind back,
searching for the last time he could claim to be truly happy. No ugly
truth hanging over his head like a dark cloud.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Honey,
I'm home,” Armand called from the door. “Are you ready? We're
going to be late.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
don't see why you can't tell me where we're going.” Peter emerged
from the bedroom half dressed, tucking his shirt in with one hand
while the other busily tried to sort his hair into some semblance of
order. “And what have I said about calling me honey?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
can't tell you because then it wouldn't be a surprise.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
don't particularly like surprises.” The petulant retort elicited a
broad smile in response.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"You'll
like this one. You trust me, don't you?” Armand asked teasingly.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Of
course I trust you.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Right
answer.” Soft lips pressed up against Peter's as he opened his
mouth to continue his protests, effectively derailing his train of
thought. “Now, we have a train to catch.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>A
few short hours later they were striding through a beautifully
manicured Japanese garden, possibly the most enchanting place he'd
ever been. “Hurry up slowpoke.” Armand yanked on his hand, towing
Peter's taller form determinedly behind him.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"But
it's so beautiful, I just want to stop and enjoy.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Not
yet, they're waiting.” They climbed the steps to an ornate gazebo
lit by flickering oil lamps and the light of the full moon.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"They
who? What's going on?” Peter stubbornly refused to move forward
until he got some answers.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"It's
our anniversary. Five years ago you asked me to dance. Don't you
remember?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Of
course I remember. That doesn't explain why we're here.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"It
may not mean anything when we get back home, but I want to marry
you.” Armand's husky response had him turning wide eyes on his
lover.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Marry
me?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Unless
you don't want to,” Armand whispered, suddenly afraid he'd made a
grave error in judgment.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'll
never love anyone the way I love you. Of course I'll marry you.”
Peter squeezed his hand, searching his lover's eyes, fearful there
was some sort of catch.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>They
stood in front of strangers and spoke from the heart, binding
themselves together as tightly as they could. “You do know what
this means.” Peter turned a crinkle-eyed smile his husband's way.
“Now it's time for the honeymoon.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
shook his head, sliding under the surface of the water and looking at
the distorted view for a moment. <i>That was over a year ago. The
beginning of the end. </i>He pushed the morbid train of thought to
the back of his mind, determined to get at least a couple of hours of
uninterrupted sleep.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
he padded back into the bedroom he didn't even glance at the other
side of the bed. Slipping under the covers, he turned his back on his
silent lover. For his part, Armand didn't press, it was obvious Peter
was under stress, no point in pushing when he wasn't receptive. <i>Maybe
tomorrow</i>, he concluded before settling in to keep watch over the
slumbering form. Memories rose unbidden behind closed eyes, reminding
him of why he kept his silent vigil.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"He
asked you to do what?” Armand was certain he hadn't heard
correctly.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"He
saw us at the club the other night. He asked me if I wanted a job as
a dancer,” Peter explained, holding out the flimsy business card
for his lover's inspection.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"This
is a strip club. You said no didn't you?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
didn't say anything. I just took the card.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Fine,”
Armand bit out. “I'll make sure he understands you aren't
interested.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"We
could use the money. It wouldn't mean anything,” Peter insisted.
“I'd still be yours.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"No,
absolutely not. I'll shovel shit first.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"You're
jealous. That's so cute.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Of
course I'm jealous,” Armand whispered. “I'm nothing special.
You'll meet some rich, good looking man and leave me.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'll
never leave you,” Peter assured him. “You're stuck with me, like
it or not.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'm
not willing to take the chance.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He'd
gone to the club owner, explaining that Peter was not to be
approached again. But instead of backing off, the refusal only seemed
to pique the man's interest. The offers got richer, the refusals more
brusque.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Not
that it did any good. </i>Armand sighed. The scene at the club last
night rose unbidden to his mind. <i>They'll have him in someone's bed
if I don't do something.</i> He considered having another talk with
the club owner, but decided he wasn't likely to have better luck the
second time around. That left Peter as the sole avenue of approach.
Peter who still stubbornly refused to hear him out.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
was sure the so-called support group Peter had started going to was
part of the problem. He failed to see how this forced estrangement
was helping anything. He'd never been a particularly jealous man, but
this new coldness between them had him taking a second look at
everyone. The “buddy” system meant his husband was now spending
an inordinate amount of time with another man. He wasn't sure what
Michael's angle was. All he had managed to glean about the man from
his eavesdropping was that he had joined the support group after his
lover died.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
twisted his neck from left to right, listening to the satisfying
series of pops before rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe his
mounting tension. <i>At least my head doesn't hurt</i>. In fact, it
had been days since he'd had one of his headaches. It almost felt
wrong, over the last year he'd become used to the crippling attacks.
Not that he had much choice, they hit him at random. If he hadn't
learned to cope, he would have been incapacitated.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
hated the way the episodes had taken over his life, certain that the
constant hassle of caring for a semi-invalid husband was the reason
for Peter's coldness. It frustrated him to no end. All those months
Peter had cared for him. Now when he finally felt better, there was a
gap he couldn't seem to cross.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Maybe
I should plan something special. What grand romantic gesture would
sweep him off his feet? </i>He considered and discarded half a dozen
ideas, searching his memories to assure he made the best impression.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"We're
almost there,” Armand told his fidgeting lover. “Just keep your
eyes closed until I tell you.” He carefully guided the taller man
up a short rise and out onto a flat rock. “Now you can look.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
dropped his hand to gaze out over a field of wildflowers. “This is
beautiful. Where did you hear about this place?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
stumbled across it when I stopped one day to stretch my legs. Do you
like it?”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"It's
beautiful.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Then
let's have a bite to eat and enjoy it.” Armand whipped a picnic
basket out from behind his back. He spread out the blanket and
beckoned his lover closer with a single crook of his finger. “You
know we're very isolated here. I'd be amazed if anyone else has
stumbled on this spot.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"So
you won't mind if I do this?” Peter leaned in, a crooked grin
blooming on his face, and kissed his lover. While their tongues
battled, nimble fingers slid inside his waistband, tickling down his
abdomen to caress his length. The tip of a calloused finger dipped
into the slit, spreading pearly drops of precum in their wake. When
they retreated he let out a pained groan, thrusting his hips hard
against his slighter lover.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Then
the tip of his erection bumped stubbled skin, and fingers stopped
touching and teasing to tug impatiently at his pants. Peter lifted
his hips, feeling his naked erection pushing into the soft flesh of
his lover’s throat. His pants were tossed aside and a gust of cool
air had his balls drawing up and goose pimples racing across exposed
skin.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
cracked his eyes open in time to see Armand’s tongue snake out,
laving a wet streak from his balls to the tip of his twitching
erection. The combination of erotic visual and exquisite sensation
was almost his undoing. His balls were inhaled and rolled in wet
warmth, gently massaged and released, before that magical mouth
enveloped him with agonizing slowness.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
hot mouth retreated, nibbling the thick vein tracing its way down the
impressive length. Armand took</i><i> just the head into his mouth,
running his tongue around the rim and tonguing the slit. “Gods,”
Peter muttered huskily before arching further into the inviting heat.
His lover relaxed his throat, engulfing the rigid length to the base.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He
slid up to the tip, twisting his tongue as he withdrew. As he slid
back down he began to hum and Peter's control broke. He fisted his
hands in his lover's hair to hold him in place and began to thrust
his hips, moaning and growling as the sensations overwhelmed him. It
wasn't long before the thrusts became erratic and he came with a
roar, pumping his seed down Armand's throat.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand
pulled himself back to the present, pushing to the back of his mind
the knowledge that the picnic he remembered so fondly was also the
scene of his first blinding headache. He knew it was a gamble, but
hoped it would prove to Peter that he really was feeling better and
their life could get back to normal. Now all he needed was his
lover's agreement.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Each
day he watched in silence while his husband poured his heart out to
another man. At night he trailed Peter as he walked to the club,
careful to maintain a discrete distance. Armand waiting patiently
outside until he emerged to make sure he was safe. He was mildly
concerned when his lover began to drink as soon as he got home in the
evening, carrying a bottle into the bathroom with him and sitting for
hours, letting the water grow cold while he drank himself into a
stupor.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
watched with slitted eyes from the safety of the doorway as the arm
holding the bottle finally grew lax, and it dropped to wobble across
the tile. This was the third night in a row he'd had to keep watch
over Peter, making sure he didn't slide under the surface of the
water since he couldn't lift him out of the tub. Obviously something
was bothering his husband terribly. Unfortunately, he didn't know
what the problem was. He'd love to take care of it so they could move
on. Armand knew he'd do anything to salvage this relationship before
it slipped through his fingers.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
couldn't believe he'd passed out in the tub again. The sound that
he'd imagined was his lover's heartbeat resolved to a fist banging on
his front door. He swore as he pulled himself out of the icy water,
yanking on a robe. He opened the door without even checking to see
who it was, anything to stop the pounding that was threatening to
split his head in two.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
soon as he forced his eyes to focus he regretted his haste. Peter
pulled the robe tighter as he started to fidget under the club
owner's heavy gaze. “You're not supposed to come here.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
never called me. I decided I'd waited long enough and I'd come find
you.” The club owner looked Peter up and down appreciatively. “You
gave me your address when you started working at the club. Remember?
Now, don't you think you should invite me in? You aren't really
dressed to be standing out in the street.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
reluctantly stepped back to let his visitor enter. He shut the door
and headed for the kitchen. “What do you want?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Now,
now, is that any way to talk to the man paying your salary?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Just
answer the question so I can get back to sleep.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
know why I'm here. I need your answer. He's a valued customer. You
know he spends a fortune on you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Not
my problem.” Peter crossed his arms mulishly and glared.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"It's
just a lap dance. All the other dancers do them. If you don't say
yes, I'm just going to have to find someone who will.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You'll
fire me?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"In
a heartbeat.” The club owner moved in to capture Peter's chin in
cruel fingers. “You're nothing special. There are a hundred guys
who want your spot.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"And
if I say yes?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Armand's
heart stopped. He couldn't even summon the will to protest. <i>His
</i>Peter was agreeing to get naked and rub all that luscious flesh
on a <i>stranger</i>. He stumbled out on the porch, gasping for air
and trying not to break down.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
didn't trust himself to face his lover yet, so he lingered outside,
feverishly concocting and rejecting plans to change his mind. When
Peter's “buddy” Michael dropped by, Armand followed him in,
taking a watchful stance in the corner while the two men talked.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
actually said yes?” Michael couldn't stand to see Peter sink any
lower. “You don't have to do this, you know. There are lots of
other options.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
need the money.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
don't have to stay here. There are plenty of other places. You could
find another job. It wouldn't pay as well, but you wouldn't have to
act like a whore either.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"That
was uncalled for.” Peter began to pace, pulling on his hair as he
tried to explain. “You're the one who keeps telling me to move on.
If I do this, then it shows I'm putting the past behind me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"There
are other ways to do that.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"But
this will make me accept that it's over.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Michael
didn't know what to say. He started and stopped a few times before
clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder. “I'm here if you need me. Just
think about it some more, please?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter
nodded, slumping on the couch and squeezing his head between his
hands as soon as the other man left.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
don't want to do this,” Armand whispered. “You don't have to do
this. If you want to be free of me then go. You <i>don't</i> have to
do this.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
only response to his impassioned pleas was an airy sigh. His lover
hoisted himself off the couch and went to dress for work. Armand
watched with a heavy heart as he checked his costume. He wasn't
stupid, he knew if Peter went through with this he'd lose him for
good. <i>It's not fair. I never had a chance to explain.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">All
too soon Peter's turn on stage was over. For the first time he
actually wanted the dance to last longer. Anything to delay what was
to come. As soon as he stepped off-stage he was whisked into one of
the private rooms. “I need to change,” he insisted.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Nope,
sorry. He specifically requested you wear this.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Of
course he did</i>, Peter thought sourly.<i> It will be so much easier
to 'accidentally' unravel these straps than remove a g-string.</i> He
swallowed hard and moved to stand in front of the seated patron.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
the music started he took a deep breath and began to slowly gyrate to
the beat, grinding suggestively into his customer's back before
gracefully straddling his lap. Peter shut his eyes and fought to
detach himself from what he was doing. The feel of this stranger's
erection rubbing against his ass made him want to shudder in
revulsion. <i>I need this job</i>, he reminded himself.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
coarse hand unraveling the straps and rubbing suggestively over his
hidden flesh was almost too much. It took all Peter's control not to
jump and run. Flashes of his last dance with Armand rose to taunt
him. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
don't want to go out. I look ridiculous,” Armand insisted.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
think you look hot,” his lover teased. “I like bald guys.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
thought you loved my hair.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
love you. Hair, no hair, I don't really care.” Peter leaned in to
nuzzle his husband's neck. “This gives me easy access to all your
sensitive spots.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>They
arrived at the club early enough to grab a table by the floor. They
watched the dancers and chatted idly, occasionally leaning in close
to share a kiss.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>A
slow, lilting ballad began to play. “This is about my speed.”
Armand towed his lover out onto the floor, smiling when strong arms
wrapped around him and Peter began to hum in his ear.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Any
speed you like is fine with me,” Peter whispered. “Nothing wrong
with a long slow burn.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>They
spent the rest of the evening on the dance floor. Trading long
open-mouthed kisses as they swayed to whatever was playing. When he
couldn't stand another moment he pulled his husband out of the club.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>They
barely made it inside the door when Armand found himself pinned
against the wall as his lover tried to suck his tongue out of his
mouth. “Want you so bad,” Peter husked as he fumbled with the
button on his husband's pants.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He
pulled Armand close, pressing their lips together in a heartfelt
kiss. “Let's move this somewhere more comfortable, shall we. I'd
hate to come on the living room wall.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Armand
dove back in for another kiss, taking control and maneuvering them to
the bed, his nimble hands caressing every inch of flesh they could
reach. He suckled defined pectorals, then slid lower to trace the
ridges of Peter's abdomen.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Peter
let out a stifled gasp when that hot tongue slid lower, tickling the
head of his penis before darting away to suckle his heavy sac.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Eventually
Armand grew tired of teasing and swallowed the erection bobbing
temptingly in front of his face, using the distraction to slide a
slick finger through his lover's puckered ring.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>He
added a second finger and began to gently thrust them in time with
the bobbing of his head. He smirked in satisfaction when Peter let
out a loud moan, legs spreading impossibly wide in an attempt to
encourage him. “Like that do you?” Armand chuckled before
targeting his lover's prostate, eyes darkening with lust as he
watched Peter writhe wantonly.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
can't wait any longer.” Armand quickly lubed his erection before
slowly pushing through the clenching muscle, both men letting out a
sigh as he brushed over Peter's prostate and a shudder ran through
the tall man.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Make
me yours,” Peter whispered when he was finally seated to the hilt.
“No holding back.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
can't say no to such a tempting offer.” He folded Peter's long legs
around his waist before getting to his knees, shifting inside the
larger man until only the head remained in his clutching passage.
“We're going to try something different. Just relax and let me take
control, I promise not to hurt you.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Just
move, or I will.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Oh
no, you won't.” Armand thrust hard into the furnace of his lover's
body, biting his lip to keep from coming at the deep erotic groan it
pulled from his throat.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"Again,”
Peter insisted. “Don't stop.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I
couldn't stop if I wanted to.” Armand panted as he sped up the
pace, plunging into his lover as he writhed and keened.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The
continuous assault on his prostate proved to be too much and Peter
was undone completely. He threw back his head and roared as his come
spurted onto his husband's chest.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>"I'm
not done with you yet.” Armand twisted him to lay on his side,
speeding up his thrusts until he came with a choked cry, eyes falling
shut and his whole form shuddering with the force of his release.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peter's
eyes sprang open with a gasp. He leapt back off the lap he was
perched on, quailing slightly at the heavy, lustful look directed his
way.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"What's
the hurry? We were just starting to have a good time,” the customer
insisted.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No,
we weren't. Your dance is over, I need to get out of here.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
don't think so.” Peter suddenly noticed how large the man in the
chair was. “We were having fun. Look, you're still hard for me.”
When a meaty hand roughly fisted his erection Peter bolted, pulling
on his clothes as he tore out the back door and headed for the safety
of home.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
heard the door slam. Peter followed his usual evening routine and
headed into the bathroom. When he headed back out a few minutes later
and sat down on the edge of the bed, Armand steeled himself for the
confrontation that was surely coming.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
cleared his throat, ready to broach the subject of their estrangement
once again. He knew if he didn't speak now, he wouldn't have another
chance. The words he'd been aching to say flooded his head. I love
you. I'd never leave you. Please give us a chance. All of them stuck
in his throat in the face of the broken man his lover had become.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Before
he could speak Peter raised his head and fixed his eyes on his
reflection in the mirror. “I don't know what you expect from me,”
he croaked. “I know you don't approve of my dancing, but this was
our home. I don't want to leave it and I can't swing the payments any
other way. Everyone keeps telling me to walk away, make a fresh
start, but I just can't.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">His
head dropped onto his knees, arms dangling uselessly as strangled
sobs shuddered through his frame. It was then Armand saw the bottle.
The empty bottle. “It's the only thing that makes sense,” Peter
slurred before his eyes dropped shut.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
need to tell me what you've done,” Armand demanded, surprised when
weary chocolate eyes lifted to lock with his own.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Can't,
you'll be angry,” came the whispered response.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I'll
never be angry with you. I've loved you since the day we met.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Liar.
You left me,” Peter muttered.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I'm
right here,” Armand insisted. “I never left. I'll never leave.
You're the one who stopped talking to me. But I don't want to fight
about it, you need to get help.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No,
I just want you. I want to stay with you. I can't stand to lose you
again.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
door burst open and Armand found himself swept aside by paramedics.
“I should have checked him earlier,” Peter's friend Michael kept
insisting. “He said everything was alright. He seemed ready to move
on.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"So
he'd been upset about something?” the paramedic asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"We
met at a bereavement support group. His lover died a couple months
ago. He's had a hard time moving on.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No,”
Armand whispered. “He's wrong. I'm Peter's lover.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Peter,
I need you to talk to me. How many of these pills did you take?” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"None
of their damn business.” Armand swiveled, eyes going wide at the
sight of his husband standing behind him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"But.
. .” He gestured toward the limp body the emergency crew was
laboring over.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
won't lose you again.” Peter reached to embrace him, but never
connected. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
body on the floor started to flail, and the crowded room emptied into
the ambulance. The house was silent and still, free of the living and
the dead. Armand settled on the edge of the bed, in the spot his
lover had recently occupied. He was a patient man. The dead have all
the time in the world, after all, and love is worth waiting for.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-88131320299507985472016-10-24T03:50:00.002-07:002016-10-24T03:50:55.829-07:00more Halloween shivers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean's
nostrils flared, eyes darting wildly from side to side as he pushed
through the dense underbrush. For the thousandth time he chastised
himself, he'd been warned again and again about getting caught in
these woods after dark. <i>But it's the 21</i><sup><i>st</i></sup><i>
century</i>, his rational side countered. <i>Everyone knows those
stories are just old wives tales. One of the locals probably thought
it would be funny to try and frighten me. </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Alright
you've made your point.” He stopped running and turned to confront
his pursuer. “Next time I won't scoff at your folklore.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean
found himself glaring at the center of a broad chest. <i>They sure
grow them big around here, </i>he thought idly, tipping his head back
to look the man in the eye. The figure in front of him had to be at
least seven feet tall, wrapped in leather and fur with a massive bow
and a quiver of razor sharp arrows. Time seemed to stretch, his mind
scrabbling to process what he was seeing. His heart roared back to
life when he realized he was looking at an elaborate mask. <i>Or
perhaps it's a helm</i>, he mused. Above a sharp chin and smirking
mouth, bronze wrapped the rest of the face, only the eyes visible as
overly bright sparks in the motionless visage. Moonlight traced the
twisted branches of the antlers that topped it, spreading at least
six feet and curving forward to further obscure the man's face.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"That's
quite an outfit,” Sean ventured. “Are you on your way to a
party?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"A
party.” The voice immediately had his attention; rich, deep and
slightly husky. The figure inclined its head ever so slightly,
corners of the thin lips quirking upward before continuing, tone
filled with cold mirth. “You could call it that. Now that we've
met, perhaps you'd like to come along?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Thank
you for the invitation, but I'm afraid I need to get home.” Sean
refused to listen to the primal part of his brain screaming at him to
run and hide. “Do you live around here? Maybe another time.” He
turned to leave, staggering forward a few steps before a hard hand
landed on his shoulder and squeezed.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You'll
only get lost wandering around out here. These woods can be dangerous
for travelers.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
was an ominous undertone to the stranger's words. Sean knew the
pronouncement was a subtle warning meant to keep him by this man's
side. It was then he noticed the hounds, monstrous shaggy beasts
whose deep rumbling noises reminded him of the masked man's voice.
“Are these your dogs?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I'm
sorry. Do they frighten you?” The stranger muttered something in a
language he didn't recognize and the pack grew still. Sean flinched
when, as one, their eyes turned toward him, regarding him with an
uncanny intelligence. After a long moment they faded silently into
the dense brush, although his skin prickled and he imagined them
lying in wait for unwary wanderers, ready to shred their flesh with
razor sharp teeth.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
shudder ran through him at the thought and he didn't protest the
guiding hand leading him back along his panicked track. In fact, he
didn't even question it when he was yanked unceremoniously into the
air to sit behind the masked man astride his wheeling mount. The tiny
voice in his head began whispering that things weren't as
straightforward as they seemed when they were instantly flanked by a
silent company of masked horsemen. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You're
shivering. This will brace you for the ride.” Any other time he
would have refused the flask. But tonight, Sean eagerly tipped it
back, clinging to the familiar burn as the strong drink poured down
his throat. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Thanks,”
he muttered as he handed the vessel back.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"It
is my pleasure, I assure you.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
softly murmured response left him struggling to see underneath the
simple statement, hoping to figure out what was really going on. He
was still trying to articulate a response when one of the hounds let
out an unearthly howl, and the entire troupe set off .</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean's
head was spinning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to
form the words needed to ask even the simplest question. He fought to
push past the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him and figure out
what, exactly, he'd gotten himself into. The world around him seemed
to swirl, things taking on a preternatural clarity that left him
debating whether or not the grass was really as soft as it looked.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Let
me help you.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
soon as the words were spoken hands were there to help him dismount,
a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders when he stumbled
unsteadily. “I don't think I like this. I don't usually take
drugs.” The words came out thick and slurred, and a small knot of
panic began to unfurl in his abdomen, sending a frisson of terror
running up his spine and nearly galvanizing him to take action. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No
drugs. I don't believe in them.” A hand encased in an elaborate
gauntlet cupped his chin and Sean's skin tightened, trying to escape
from the menacing claws gently dragging across his vulnerable throat.
“After all, what would be the point of stifling all these wonderful
reactions.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
low chuckle should have put him at ease. Instead it spurred his sense
of wrongness and he searched the masked face for clues to his rising
sense of disquiet. “Take off your mask and introduce yourself,”
he demanded. “I want to know who I'm talking to.” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
are spirited.” The broad chest vibrated with another rumbling laugh
as razor sharp talons delicately grasped the antlered helm and slowly
revealed heretofore hidden features. “As for my name, surely you
know who I am?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"How
could I possibly know you?” Sean snapped. “I've never laid eyes
on you before tonight and you certainly haven't introduced yourself.”
He summoned his best glare, mouth twisting into a frown at the mirth
dancing in his host's eyes.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
are a storyteller, are you not?” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
question hung, unanswered, as he struggled to get his sluggish
reflexes under control, stumbling back a few paces and shaking his
head. “I'm a librarian.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"So,
you're a keeper of stories. Do you read any of them?” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Of
course I read them. I love to read.” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
really haven't figured it out? I am the Amadan na Briona.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"The
Fool?” Sean slapped a hand over his treacherous mouth as soon as
the words passed his lips. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Do
I look like a fool?” the hunter growled. “I'm leader of the wild
hunt and lord of the unseleighe court . . . and you are my new
consort.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Consort?
But, I'm a man.” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"The
Fae have long taken humans for companions.” Broad shoulders lifted
in a graceful shrug. “There is no disgrace in my choice.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
meant I'm male,” Sean explained. “We're both the same sex.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Yes?
I'm afraid I don't understand. What, exactly, is your point?” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Look,
I don't know about you, but I'm not gay.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Gauntleted
hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer, steel talons
tickling across his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their
wake. “I don't see why that's an issue.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
normally calm librarian could feel his blood pressure rising. He
tried to twist out of the claustrophobic embrace. “You can't just
kidnap me and expect me to go along with your crazy bullshit. Now let
me go, I need to get back.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
did not kidnap you.” That velvety voice had dropped back to a harsh
growl. “There are rules. You agreed to come along. You drank
willingly. I'm not a monster. I fail to see what the problem is.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I'm
not into men,” Sean protested. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"No,
of course you're not.” The silky tone in combination with the claws
tickling dangerously across the bulge in Sean's pants finally broke
the glamour he'd been under. <i>A quick twist to the left</i>, he
decided. The miscalculation spun him tight against an armored chest.
He lifted his gaze, and the protest died in his throat in the face of
the madness spinning in those bottomless blue eyes.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
don't want this.” The uncertain whisper seemed to come from someone
else. Like it or not, a hot coil of arousal twisted low in Sean's
abdomen and his erection twitched against his thigh.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
do though. You want to please me, don't you?” </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I-I
don't know. I don't feel well.” The sense of surrealism was back.
Sean was certain the Fool was growing taller, leaving him feeling
ever more vulnerable. “I think I need to lay down.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"I
agree, no reason for us to be uncomfortable.” As soon as the words
were uttered the landscape around them seemed to twist on itself, and
Sean couldn't help the panicked whimper that escaped his lips when he
felt himself falling. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
reason for his disquiet suddenly snapped into focus. “Where are we?
How did we get here?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
really need to make up your mind. Do you want to talk or fuck?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"It's
too warm for January, and the grass is too green.” Sean was
determined to regain control of the situation. “Where have you
taken me? And how did we get so far so fast?”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Arms
wrapped around the librarian's back to hold him close and the Fool
bent to lick across a sensitive ear. “We are at my home in Tir na
nOg. Time runs differently here and the seasons don't change.” The
words were punctuated with a trail of hard, biting, kisses. Sean
hissed when a hot tongue avidly lapped up the blood spilled along the
way.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
shiver ran up his back. The hunter's caresses were not the kind that
should be arousing, but Sean found himself pressing into them. His
hand rose to clutch at a hard shoulder as a talented tongue licked
its way into his mouth. Strong hands twisted in Sean's hair as the
kiss turned violent, teeth clicking together in their haste. Before
he had a chance to protest the librarian found himself stretched out
on the soft moss, wrists securely bound over his head, while sharp
claws carefully sliced away his clothes.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Hey,
I need those,” Sean tried to protest .</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Are
you telling me to stop?” Deft hands began to wrap him tightly in
silky rope, elaborate knots making a pattern across his chest and
abdomen before his hands were unbound and re-secured. “You look
beautiful,” the husky voice soothed. “Wild and angry and so very
helpless.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
the coils began to wrap around his cock and balls a whimper escaped
Sean's throat. He pushed down the terror threatening to rip through
him and reminded himself that, so far at least, he hadn't been hurt.
As frightening as the Fool's attentions were, they were equally
exciting, and his cock began oozing precum the moment the rope
touched it. A muffled squeak slipped past his lips when his legs were
bent and secured, leaving him helpless and completely exposed. Even
with the most wanton of women, he'd never felt this needy. His entire
body seemed to be straining toward this dangerous stranger, eager for
his touch.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
couldn't tear his eyes away as lubricant was smeared over a
glittering metal rod. “Just relax,” the unseleighe lord crooned
as he slowly began to thread the rod into the slit of his consort's
penis. “Almost there.” When the rounded tip of the sound bumped
against Sean's prostate he let out a startled whine.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Now,
don't you look inviting, all bound and stuffed for me.” The hunter
dropped his head to lick across a tempting collar bone, smiling to
himself at the lusty moan it produced. He slid two slick fingers deep
inside the dazed man, scissoring them to stretch the passage for what
was to come. When a third finger slid alongside every muscle in the
librarian's body clenched.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean
blushed when he realized the loud moaning sounds were coming from his
traitorous mouth. Of course, he'd never felt anything quite like this
before. His cock felt hugely swollen and insanely heavy, like it
might explode at any instant. When the fingers teasing his entrance
disappeared he tried to gather his wits.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
need to get this good and wet.” The Fool stroked himself a few
times before forcing the librarian's mouth open and shoving his
intimidating erection deep in unsuspecting man's throat. Sean twisted
and struggled, the lack of oxygen sending a surge of adrenaline
through his system. He managed the occasional sip of air, but the
bonds left him unable to do more. His thoughts grew even more
muddled, and when he suddenly found his lips stretched around nothing
but air, he focused on filling his lungs. After a few shuddering
gasps he relaxed as much as he could, slumping limply in the tight
embrace of the ropes.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sudden
comprehension of what was to come sent a cold spike of reality
running through him, and he couldn't avoid tensing as the broad head
of the hunter's cock pushed through his hastily stretched entrance.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
he was fully seated the Faerie lord paused. He wrapped a hand around
Sean's straining erection, razor sharp talons scraping over the shiny
swollen flesh peeking between the cords wrapped so tightly around it.
He pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside, then
slammed forward, striking his captive's prostate. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean
twitched and shook, unable to move as wave after wave of pleasure
streaked through him. The hunter read the telltale signs, squeezing
the base of his erection and blocking his orgasm. A hoarse chuckle
sent shudders running up his spine. When his hard cock was pressed
firmly into the librarian's prostate, the Fool reached down and
carefully tapped the tip of the sound. He worried his lip between his
teeth as he concentrated on the feel of the tight sheath rippling
around him. “You're mine now,” he growled. “No one will ever
possess you like this.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
librarian abandoned himself to the feeling, concentrating on the
pleasure coiling inside until his world exploded in a series of
sparks, muscles tightening erratically as the sound shot out of his
penis and seed splattered across his chest. The sight proved to be
more than the hunter could resist and he let out a deep groan as he
filled Sean's ass with his cum. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"That
was entertaining.” The Fool's darkly mirthful voice roused him from
his stupor. “Let me help you.” Once again strong hands took
control of the librarian's body, efficiently loosening the intricate
knots and rubbing feeling back into his limbs. After such tender
treatment Sean was caught off guard when his arms were roughly
twisted behind his back and tightly secured from elbow to wrist.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>As
if I felt like running right now</i>, Sean thought indignantly. He
turned his head, intent on saying so, when he noticed the ring of
silent watchers. He blinked, then blinked again, and wished he could
rub his eyes. It almost looked like their masks were moving.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"My
companions aren't as lucky as I am.” The Fool repositioned him
roughly, sprawling him across muscular thighs, pinned by hard hands
and rising panic. “They find it hard to seduce someone looking the
way they do. Not to mention the whole communicating in grunts issue.
But they are very loyal to me, so I think it's only fair they share
in my good fortune.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean
watched as a monstrous man with the head of a bull strode towards
them. He marshaled his thoughts, hoping to come up with a plan, only
to despair at the unseleighe lord's next words. “I'd relax if I
were you, otherwise they'll tear you in two.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">If
he'd had hopes the words were an exaggeration, the first thrust
robbed him of them. The huntsmen were as animalistic in their desires
as they were in appearance. One after another they roughly pounded
out their frustrations and went on their way until only Sean and his
captor remained. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"They
don't lust often,” the Fool assured him. “Just on the equinoxes,
when we ride. Most of your time will be spent with me. Perhaps you'll
appreciate my attentions more, in light of the alternative.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Please,
let me go.” The softly whispered words were the first he'd spoken
since before the Fool had woven his seductive illusion. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"You
can't go back. I told you, time is different here. In Tir na nOg the
years can't touch you. If you go back all the years you defer staying
here will manifest themselves. No one is waiting for you. Your name
was forgotten long ago. This is your home now.” The Fool let out a
sharp whistle and his hounds gathered, milling around the seated pair
and breaking the silence with their bids for attention.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
ropes around his arms loosened and Sean let out a gasp when he was
gently lowered into a warm pool. “Clean yourself up,” came the
gruff command. “And don't try to run, my hounds would be only too
happy to stop you.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">By
the time he found himself securely spooned against the Faerie lord
his mind and body were numb. When the hounds crowded tightly around
them, settling down with soft chuffs and throaty rumbles, he barely
noticed. “It will get better,” the Fool whispered almost
lovingly. “Soon you won't be able to imagine any other life. Who
knows, you may even come to care for me.”</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>No,
I won't</i>, Sean decided. He almost shouted it in the Fool's face,
but held his tongue, merely curling more tightly in on himself. With
luck he'd open his eyes on his own bedroom and this would all fade
like any other nightmare.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
the days melted into weeks, and then into years. Against his wishes,
he grew comfortable in his captivity, and the Fool's attentions
gradually worked their way into his heart. Their interaction mellowed
into easy amiability born of deep seated, if unexpressed, affection.
Yet Sean never let go of his conviction that he would one day find
his way back to the life he only vaguely remembered.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
his chance finally came he almost didn't take it. The same intuition
he'd ignored to his peril insisted the hounds would wake and tear him
to shreds. He'd never had much rapport with animals, but he swore the
horse understood his need for silence, and he was mounted and away.
As the ground fell beneath thundering hooves, Sean screwed his eyes
tightly shut and prayed to gods he'd long abandoned.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
horse finally slowed to a walk, and he opened his eyes on a bleak
winter landscape. <i>I'm home.</i> The realization galvanized him
into action, and he slid from the saddle, eager to prove to himself
that he wasn't dreaming. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean's
feet hit the ground, and he sucked in a lungful of crisply cold air.
He expected to be invigorated, the sensation of strength leaching out
of him instead left him scrambling to climb back in the saddle.
Without the energy to pull himself back into its protective
influence, he could only cling weakly to the stirrup, and then he was
still.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.14in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
Amadan na Briona poked the remains of his consort with the toe of his
boot before turning away. The mournful sound of his horn floated
across the fields. Tonight he would hunt.</span></span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-67722862090858933922016-10-19T04:23:00.000-07:002016-10-19T04:23:24.564-07:00Halloween Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Halloween is upon us, and although I tend to shy away from the more gruesome horror movies, I do, on occasion, write something shiver worthy. So, in honor of the upcoming frightful festivities, I have decided to highlight some of my stories with a more horrific bent. Therefore, without further ado, Here is the first of my tales of the twisted...</span></div>
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<h2 style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>DINNER
WITH THE DEVIL</b></span></h2>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br /></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Why are we doing this again?”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The wry, slightly aggrieved tone of the teacher's voice left Shou
struggling not to laugh. “Because you lost our bet, sensei,” he
purred. “My prize is your company on this little adventure.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aoshi cracked his eyes open just enough to study the man next to him.
“I already told you, I don't believe in ghosts. If you're just
trying to get a rise out of me you'll be sorely disappointed.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh my, sensei. If <i>that</i> was what I wanted I would have been
much more direct.” Shou's deep rumbling chuckle sent goosebumps
skittering over the teacher's skin. “It's supposed to be the most
haunted place in all of Japan. I just want to see why it has such a
dark reputation.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Weak fools who wanted to be scared,” Aoshi declared. “People
see what they want to see.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So the thought of dinner with the devil doesn't even give you
pause?”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Devil, schmevil, can't be any worse than some of the human
octopuses I've dated.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Let's hope you're right.” Shou pulled off the road onto a
twisting drive. Conversation ebbed as he turned his concentration to
the narrow rutted track. Mushrooms of all shapes and sizes had taken
root in the pitted surface, churning to a slippery ooze under the
tires. The vehicle slipped and slid, scraping against the encroaching
underbrush until it finally burst into a small clearing.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The house itself was ordinary enough, wood faded to a soft grey, the
surprisingly intact shoji tightly shut. If he didn't know better,
Shou would have assumed it to be carefully maintained by a loving
owner.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Are you sure this is the right place?” Aoshi's question jolted
him out of his daze. “It doesn't look haunted.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shou didn't reply, instead he busied himself gathering their
supplies. He grasped the teacher's arm at the elbow and steered him
up onto the engawa. “Last chance to back out.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“As if I'd give you the satisfaction. Aoshi slid open the door and
stepped inside, yanking his friend in behind him. “Looks harmless
enough.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Light filtered in through the yellowed paper on the shoji, giving the
space a warm amber glow that was almost welcoming. The aged tatami
creaked and rustled under their feet, each step kicking up a cloud of
dust. The teacher shook out the blanket he was carrying, spreading it
in the middle of the floor and pulling his companion down to sit.
“This is as good a place as any. I'm starving.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As unimpressive as the room looked, the tiny hairs on the back of
Shou's neck prickled with danger. He rummaged in the picnic basket,
pulling out three lacquered bento boxes, chopsticks, sake, and three
tiny saucers.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Three?” Aoshi asked. “Is someone joining us?”
</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Can't have dinner with the devil and not feed him.” Shou poured
sake into three saucers and lifted his in a toast. “To a most
enlightening evening.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Kanpai.” The teacher took a sip, sighing as the warmth slid down
his throat and started a glow in his belly. “That is nice. I just
hope you didn't make these yourself. I've seen the glop you call
food.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And risk insulting the prince of darkness? It's from that sushi
place near your apartment, the one you always rave about.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Then let's eat.” Aoshi clapped his hands together.
“Itadakimasu,” he murmured as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It's rather impolite to start without your host, don't you think?”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The surprisingly mellow voice grew closer. “It's been a long time
since I've had guests, especially on this night.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What night?”Aoshi croaked. He kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on
the tatami as bare feet and the hem of a man's kimono passed next to
him.
</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Why, All Hallow's Eve, of course. The night when restless spirits
walk the earth. I tend to forget you don't celebrate it here.” The
newcomer settled himself cross-legged, hands reaching for the waiting
saucer of sake.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shou idly noted the man now seated opposite him kicked up no dust as
he moved. He clamped down hard on the nausea bubbling in his throat,
lifting his eyes to the middle of the figure's chest. From the neck
down he looked ordinary enough, a slight man in a simple dark kimono.
A tiny part of his mind gleefully urged him to look up and disprove
the myth once and for all, but his natural paranoia overrode it.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Your companion is quite lovely. I can certainly see the
attraction.” The deceptively simple statement triggered protective
instincts Shou never imagined he possessed.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“He's mine.”
</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Really? He doesn't smell like you.” The stranger inhaled deeply.
“But he does smell <i>sweet</i>. Why don't you and I make a little
trade. I'll let you go, and you leave him to keep me amused.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Never.” Shou leapt to his feet, pulling the teacher behind him.
“Don't look. Just back out through the door.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You're being very rude.” Aoshi clamped his hand over his
traitorous lips in an attempt to stop the words that flowed from his
mouth, in his voice, but were certainly not his. “We intruded on
his solitude,” he continued to mumble around the obstruction. “The
least we can do is finish our meal.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That's an excellent idea.” The stranger reached to take the
teacher's hand, but Shou pivoted, fingers digging into Aoshi's biceps
before flinging him through the open door.
</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Cold seared through him, the outstretched hand now resting
companionably on his shoulder. “It's amazing how often that works.”</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Wh-wh-what?” Shou stammered. The door shook as Aoshi pounded on
it from outside, but the sound was curiously distant.</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I mean, think about it,” the stranger continued. “What would
someone like me want with someone as nice as your friend. You on the
other hand ...” Shou squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to all the
deities he had never believed in, “ ...you have possibilities.”</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">* *
*</span></div>
<div arial="" font-family:="" helvetica="" sans-serif="" style="line-height: 0.24in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The police dismissed it as a lover's quarrel. A perfunctory visit to
the caved-in ruin of a house guaranteed they would not believe him.
Shou slipped out of conversation, then memory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet every year on October 31, Aoshi returned with dinner for three.
“I've brought our dinner,” he'd announce. “Are you tired of him
yet? He really can be an asshole, sometimes. But, if you're done with
him, I'd love to have him back. We never finished our date.” With a
respectful bow he'd lay out two bento and pour two saucers of sake,
then retreat to the engawa to eat his portion under open sky. </span></div>
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<br />Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-5575237770355620462016-07-07T10:33:00.000-07:002016-07-07T10:33:13.063-07:00Time for a change...I woke up this morning and decided it was time for a name change. Shadow Wolf is now Shinobi (its original title). A much shorter, snappier, title that lays out better on the cover.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_l43fDn-ALciTYmTHAHPT-zjYU3ff3quP3T1fYQf0_F5uzDvAWJNWsjMKtGej8Qi4-RE57BaIy5WFxCh8OX246lWUt1Syso0Pn0kJT_9bc_bDtzlLfEbfehoqWWb9zWEQmZLjRa-extP/s1600/Shinobi+ebook+revd+7-7-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_l43fDn-ALciTYmTHAHPT-zjYU3ff3quP3T1fYQf0_F5uzDvAWJNWsjMKtGej8Qi4-RE57BaIy5WFxCh8OX246lWUt1Syso0Pn0kJT_9bc_bDtzlLfEbfehoqWWb9zWEQmZLjRa-extP/s640/Shinobi+ebook+revd+7-7-16.jpg" width="430" /></a></div>
<br />
SLOWLY but, hopefully, surely, the name change is populating all the outlets. The website is updated, a new print preview copy will soon be on order. Is all right with the world?Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-13012130700390653082016-06-20T05:41:00.000-07:002016-06-20T05:41:14.438-07:00It's Pride MonthAnd so I have had Sex Ray Specs on special for the duration - only 99 cents at all major retailers. It has been a rough month, but, perhaps, some short homoerotic tales will make it a little bit better. Be warned, though, some are sweet, some are sad, and many are dark...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLFhdGSOH4jtBxO2UKPfS1XT9zSQyOJk0lrCypDP2gDH84ONmPufXUhbhWCS7mfHu2aVKeG5PRqL75wdk5P5_HqBKmG5X0ynraI3fmaPh-4gqJXlJgcqVmJC1CpL2-lxD4WK7_a2FyTsH/s1600/SexRay+Specs+e-book+2-22-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLFhdGSOH4jtBxO2UKPfS1XT9zSQyOJk0lrCypDP2gDH84ONmPufXUhbhWCS7mfHu2aVKeG5PRqL75wdk5P5_HqBKmG5X0ynraI3fmaPh-4gqJXlJgcqVmJC1CpL2-lxD4WK7_a2FyTsH/s320/SexRay+Specs+e-book+2-22-13.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
But it is summer, and bite sized fiction is the best thing for filling in those lazy moments.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sex-Ray-Specs-Sessha-Batto-ebook/dp/B00IMNWQ2C?ie=UTF8&tag=geolinker-20" target="_blank">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sex-ray-specs-sessha-batto/1118849847?ean=9781501497773&itm=1&usri=9781501497773" target="_blank">Barnes&Noble</a> <a href="https://www.omnilit.com/product-sexrayspecs-1433265-362.html" target="_blank">ARe</a> <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/412176" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sex-ray-specs-1" target="_blank">Kobo</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id894760194" target="_blank">iTunes</a>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-36487690693947616072016-04-28T06:44:00.000-07:002016-04-28T06:44:31.063-07:00We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Life (well, pollen) has been kicking my ass the last couple weeks. Every time I sit down at the computer to try and write I either hack up a lung or sneeze a quart of goo all over the keyboard...thus the next chapter in Onna Bugeisha has been delayed by plague. But fear not, I feel semi-human today. Well, as long as I don't breathe too deeply, I think I broke a rib coughing last night :( </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To make up for the lack of new chapters I have put my anthology of short fiction, Sex Ray Specs, on sale for just $.99 for a limited time. Not a lot to pay for over 50,000 words and a dozen stories ranging from tender to transgressive. Okay, to be fair, most of them are fairly twisted...I am fairly twisted, so it just makes sense my stories would be as well. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLFhdGSOH4jtBxO2UKPfS1XT9zSQyOJk0lrCypDP2gDH84ONmPufXUhbhWCS7mfHu2aVKeG5PRqL75wdk5P5_HqBKmG5X0ynraI3fmaPh-4gqJXlJgcqVmJC1CpL2-lxD4WK7_a2FyTsH/s1600/SexRay+Specs+e-book+2-22-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLFhdGSOH4jtBxO2UKPfS1XT9zSQyOJk0lrCypDP2gDH84ONmPufXUhbhWCS7mfHu2aVKeG5PRqL75wdk5P5_HqBKmG5X0ynraI3fmaPh-4gqJXlJgcqVmJC1CpL2-lxD4WK7_a2FyTsH/s400/SexRay+Specs+e-book+2-22-13.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, to sweeten the pot, I thought I would post a little unpublished snippet of flash fiction, just because I hate not meeting my chapter posting goals.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>MUSE</u></span></h3>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><br /></u></span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the world is quiet and still he
comes to me. Tendrils of power drift around him in a graceful,
kinetic dance, arcing from his hands to my flesh, burning their way
through my synapses, at odds with the frigid bite of his skin. The
soft smokey murmur in my ear pins me as certainly as too dark eyes
and all thoughts of protest dissipate. He smells of ginger and
cloves, sharp, seductive, hypnotic. Glass, stone, metal and bone
woven into shaggy locks sing their own melody and I'm drowning under
the onslaught, sinking into a place only he can drive me. When the
whispers turn dark he dances, twisting and twirling, horns scribing
the text into my flesh as the heady tang of copper mingles with
spice. Then he smiles, a slight quirk of his lip, the tip of a pink
tongue flicking out to taste my fears, my dreams, my essence encoded
in my DNA. I would run, I would hide, I would surrender my soul for
words of pleasure and pain. The rustle of finished pages, the itch of
newly healed flesh, the secret of my success, he follows his own
path. As for myself, I live to sleep and dream of my other half, this
cruel symbiote without whom I am lost. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, of course, the sale links...because what is the point of telling you about a sale without giving you the means to get in on it!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IMNWQ2C?tag=geolinker-20" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sex-ray-specs-sessha-batto/1118849847?ean=9781501497773&itm=1&usri=9781501497773" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id894760194" target="_blank">iTunes</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.omnilit.com/product-sexrayspecs-1433265-362.html" target="_blank">All Romance Ebooks</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/412176" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sex-ray-specs-1" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.inktera.com/store/title/9c209e68-04a4-4f38-b826-88c6d637bd05" target="_blank">Inktera</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://payhip.com/b/TC9L" target="_blank">PayHip</a></span></div>
Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-35160684171793624542016-04-05T11:20:00.000-07:002016-04-05T11:20:42.561-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter Six<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sorry for the delay...real life decided to interfere with my twice a week chapters. So, a bit late, on to Chapter Six. For those who may be just joining us, you can start with <a href="http://sesshabatto.blogspot.com/2016/03/onna-bugeisha-chapter-one.html" target="_blank">Chapter One</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s1600/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s640/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Dai Sho Shou</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Even the most skilled
application of cosmetics left Jun shaking his head in disgust. His
wounds had healed, but one side of his face still drooped like melted
wax. There was no way he could go on stage looking like this. He'd
end up cast as a crone or a demon. His hand shook with repressed rage
as he penned a note to the theater explaining his extended absence.
Even more disturbing, there had been no word from Hiroshi. His lover
had abandoned him to his fate.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Jun knelt before his
small shrine, clapped his hands three times, then bowed his head in
heartfelt prayer. “Amaterasu, most beautiful of goddesses, you have
abandoned me to a life of rejection and ugliness. Tsukiyomi you have
turned your back on me, separating me from my beloved. Susanoo, I
pray you heed my request. Give me revenge on those who have hurt and
abandoned me. Where once I wielded beauty, now let me summon your
powers of chaos and destruction.” He lit a single stick of incense
as an offering, then turned away to plot the downfall of the house of
Murakami.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Tomorrow stretched into a
week, then into two, and Kenshin still found reasons to delay his
trip to the pleasure district. His training with Hiroshi had settled
into a comfortable pattern. Evenings in his formerly staid household
now echoed with laughter, and early morning training now commenced
well after sunrise. The nights, however, were no less torturous. His
apprentice was a young man, with a young man's desires. Night after
night he resolved to find himself a mistress before he snapped and
spoiled the budding friendship he had grown to cherish. But each dawn
he found an excuse not to visit the teahouses. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">During his morning
meditation Kenshin pondered the reasons for his hesitation. In part,
it was fear he would be unable to perform with a woman. He had never
felt the attraction to the opposite sex other men did. Even his
master, who had so loving introduced him to the world of sexual
pleasure, had a wife and a concubine as well. But the intricacies of
the female mind were a puzzle he couldn't decode. If he were honest
with himself, he also feared he would enjoy it. Far too many warriors
squandered their time and money with the ladies of the willow world.
And then there was Hiroshi. It was becoming more and more difficult
for Kenshin to hide his attraction to the younger man. The last thing
he wanted was to shortcut any chance of a relationship because he was
too impatient to wait until his feelings were returned.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The folded envelope
seemed innocuous. The seal of the royal family, much less so. Kenshin
turned it over and over, trying to weigh the consequences opening it
would surely entail. Finally he broke the seal and unfolded the
delicate paper, pausing to appreciate the intricate calligraphy before
concentrating on the message itself.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi found him staring
off into space, a sheet of paper clenched in his fist. “Yakushi-san,
are you alright?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Blank eyes turned in his
direction, and his master managed a single strangled word. “Omai.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I refuse. My father
might have been able to force me to come here, but he cannot force me
into a marriage.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Not you, me.” It was
clear the very thought horrified the samurai. “I knew this would
lead to ruin.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In all honesty it didn't
seem like such a tragedy to the youth. After all, his master was a
grown man with no family to push him into an alliance. He was free to
decline in a way Hiroshi was not. “So say no, if it bothers you so
much. I am sure she doesn't want to marry you either.” He pried the
letter out of tense fingers, smoothing the page before scanning its
contents.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"See? It is the
emperor's sister. I cannot refuse.” Kenshin's whole body drooped.
“I have to at least meet with her, and I don't know if I will be
able to refuse after that. This is all your father's fault.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Most everything awful
is,” Hiroshi agreed. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Glad to know you hate
me so much.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I didn't mean it that
way.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You made it clear from
the moment you arrived you wanted nothing to do with me. Your
father's plan to pair us up was a mistake. I wish I had never agreed,
then I would still be content being alone. Now I long for things I
cannot have, and need to consider a match I never wanted.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You long for me?”
The whispered query forced Kenshin to turn and face his student. The
surprise on his face lit something deep in his soul, a feeling he
fought to suppress before it undid him completely.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"How could I not?” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi struggled to
respond, but the words caught in his throat. And then the moment had
passed and Kenshin was gone. Leaving him with nothing but the
ill-fated missive as proof the encounter ever happened.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Jun pushed aside the mass
of shredded garments until he uncovered his stored kimono, carefully
wrapped in soft silk and nestled in cedarwood boxes. He sent up a
small prayer of thanks, losing them would have been a blow he
couldn't recover from. After much contemplation, he decided on his
third best kimono, sorting through obi until he found a pairing
appropriate for the season. Even in this, precision was key.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Having
avoided it for as long as possible, he began to pick through the rest
of the broken and scattered treasures, carefully packing up a few
ornaments and a surprisingly intact box of face powder. Everything
else would remain here, in this place of broken dreams. Once he left,
he would not be returning.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The boxes and bags were
transferred to a waiting cart, a veil carefully positioned to hide
the mark of his failure, and Jun shut the door on his past.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Afternoons in the
pleasure district are lazy, leisurely affairs. In this closed world
of women the highlight of the day is gossiping the long hours away in
the baths. From the outside the willow world appears to slumber
behind its walls, recovering from the revelries of the night before.
In reality, this is the most cherished part of the day, when hopes
and dreams are laid bare and all eventualities are possible. The
arrival of a curtained palanquin during these hours was unexpected
enough to set all tongues wagging. When that palanquin stopped
outside a teahouse known for unconventional sexual practices,
curiosity overcame all rivalries. Women who normally passed without
so much as a nod of acknowledgment put their heads together and
whispered ever more outlandish theories. The only thing the pillow
girls could agree on was no one recognized the heavily veiled woman
who slipped from its curtained privacy into the teahouse. Her wealth
was obvious, hair impeccably coifed and clad in a kimono worth more
than all of them combined. Why such a person would visit that
particular house was debated in ever rising voices. The most obvious
answer, a husband with habits no decent woman could stomach, was
almost immediately discarded. Such a refined creature would no more
discuss such things than she would run naked through the streets.
Most wives negotiated their husband's liasons through scrolls and
servants, even the most mundane. The lack of subterfuge had all the
women on edge. Something darker was obviously at work.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Inside the shadowed
confines of the teahouse Jun proceeded to plead his case. Using all
the skill he had acquired in his time onstage, he struck just the
right balance between misery and vengeance, hoping to sway the
proprietor to his side.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"He swore we were
eternal lovers. And then he abandoned me.” A delicate handkerchief
disappeared behind the veils to dab at watery eyes. “Now I am
spoiled for any other.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Why come to me? There
are many houses that would love to have a lady of your refinement. My
customers have base appetites. Your delicate sensibilities will
enflame them to greater outrages just to see your reaction.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I have no choice,”
Jun's voice dropped to a breathy whisper. “I cannot allow another
to penetrate my jade gate, and I have no wish to risk becoming
enamored of any man. But, I am now without resources, and that means
I must compromise. I will accept being used in the way men pleasure
each other. Would you have customers interested in such things?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I have customers
interested in all manner of perversion. I am sure I can keep you busy
enough to forget your heartbreak. I assume you would prefer separate
quarters?” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It would be more
comfortable for all of us, I'm sure. Still, beggars can't be
choosers. I will take whatever you are willing to give me.”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.22in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The proprietress
carefully packed a long iron pipe with tobacco, applying a coal to
the bowl and puffing out clouds of sour smoke. “One of my girls
recently left us to marry. Her lover kept her in luxury during her
time here. Her house is empty now, I'll have the servants clean it in
preparation for your arrival.” </span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-70802409072750360692016-03-29T05:21:00.000-07:002016-03-29T05:22:26.833-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter Five<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is Tuesday already - that means it is time for a new chapter! In case you are just joining us, here is the link to <a href="http://sesshabatto.blogspot.com/2016/03/onna-bugeisha-chapter-one.html?zx=1153bb7d74206a13" target="_blank">Chapter One</a>...for the rest of you, Chapter Five awaits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Interlude</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In his home under the
ocean, Susanoo capered with glee. After centuries of searching the
key to regaining his father's favor had finally appeared. In response
to his mood the seas foamed, monstrous waves toppling fishing fleets
and washing away villages. The people crowded into the shrines,
praying to Amaterasu to calm her brother's ire and protect them. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The sun goddess stretched
languidly. She was torn between her desire to save her people, and
her aversion to spending time in Susanoo's presence. Duty won out and
she reluctantly made her way to his underwater home to plead her
case. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Brother, calm
yourself. You threaten to destroy all that our father created.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Like I care about
those puny islands or the pitiful worms who inhabit them. My grand
plan will soon take effect, then the people's hearts will turn to me
and you will be forgotten.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Unlikely. Beauty will
always triumph over brutality.” Amaterasu turned her back on her
sibling and ascended to her rightful place in the heavens.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Dai Go Shou</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Dawn spread fingers of
fire across the heavens, ribbons of rosy light painting abstract
patterns on the shoji and rousing Hiroshi from a restless sleep. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Time for morning
kata.” Kenshin's too cheery greeting rattled the bones of his
apprentice's skull.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It's barely dawn. Why
do we have to start so early?” Hiroshi groaned, pulling the covers
over his face and snuggling deeper into the futon.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"The day is most
productive when it starts with exercise.” Kenshin yanked the covers
off his slumbering apprentice, prodding him off the futon with his
foot. “We rise at this time every day, I'm sure in time you will
get used to it.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I seriously doubt
that.” Hiroshi scrubbed a hand across his eyes, squinting up at the
mirthful face of his master. “You are getting far too much
enjoyment out of this.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"What do you usually do
in the morning?” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I sleep through the
morning, like any civilized person.” The curt reply was a sharp
contrast to the whirlwind hair and pillow creases marring otherwise
perfect cheekbones. “Couldn't we skip morning practice and start
after lunch?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"And then you'll want
to wait until evening. You've spent enough years dawdling in bed,
time to actually do something.” A strong hand latched onto
Hiroshi's rumpled yukata and heaved him to his feet. “Your father
expects me to turn you into a warrior. Get dressed and meet me in the
dojo. The sooner we start, the sooner you get breakfast.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The strappy ties on his
hakama were a puzzle he couldn't decode in his half asleep state.
Forty minutes passed before Hiroshi entered the dojo, hair roughly
scraped back into a bushy tail, hakama tied in an impatient knot
barely restraining his crumpled yukata. The sight of his new master
peacefully meditating, hair and garments perfectly arranged, was
enough to drive him to despair.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I see you finally made
it.” Dark eyes opened to study his reluctant student. “Tomorrow I
will expect you to join me for meditation. Clarity of mind is crucial
for productive training.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Clarity of mind
assumes I am actually awake,” Hiroshi quipped. “I'm not sure that
is possible so early in the morning.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Kenshin's laugh was open
and unexpected. “Let's get started.” He selected a bokken from
the weapons rack. “Show me what you know.” He handed the wooden
sword to his student, ignoring the electric tingle that rushed
through him when their fingers brushed. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi wobbled through
the first of the simple kata he remembered, conscious of the poor
showing he was making. As much as he disliked the warrior arts he
wanted to make a good impression on the man who was giving up so much
to train him. His attention was focused on Kenshin's reaction,
further distracting him from what he should have been doing. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Just stop,” Kenshin
snapped. “Obviously we need to start at the beginning.” He
snatched the bokken from lax fingers. “Lesson number one, how to
properly hold a sword. Like this, see, all the work is done by these
fingers, the others are just a guide.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">He handed the weapon back
and watched critically as his apprentice tried to duplicate what he
had been shown. “Better, but more space between your hands. It's a
lever, you get more power that way.” Calloused fingers wrapped
around Hiroshi's pampered digits, sparking another frisson at the
contact.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The next few hours passed
in a blur. When Kenshin finally called a halt the bokken needed to be
pried out of his student's hands. “I think I'll be doing that cut
in my sleep,” Hiroshi grumbled.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Just make sure you
soak your hands after we eat. I wouldn't want you to be unable to
practice tomorrow.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Are we done for
today?” The hopeful look directed in Kenshin's direction had him
feeling momentarily guilty. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"We're done for this
morning. Let's get something to eat and then we'll work on hand to
hand skills for awhile.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"How many of hours do
you practice each day?” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"That depends on my
duties. Eight to ten hours when I'm home, less if we're in the
field.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Just kill me now,”
Hiroshi declared. “There's no way I'll survive the week.”</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The daimyo stared at the
captain of his guard in disbelief. “Yes, Hiroshi's assignation was
unseemly. That does not give you leave to assault his whore. The
issue was settled, but now...well, now I'm waiting for the backlash.
If this turns messy it is on your head.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"But if you'd seen him.
All painted up like a geisha and proud of it. Vanity like that is
understandable in a woman, in a man it's an insult.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"At least tell me you
didn't kill him.” The daimyo's hand clenched on the hilt of his
katana. The urge to punish this man for undermining his plan was
nearly overwhelming. Several deep calming breaths passed while he
waited for an answer.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"He was breathing when
we left. Do you honestly expect me to go check on the creature?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Check on him. Get him
to a healer if need be. Hiroshi will fly to his defense if he finds
out and then all my efforts to separate them will be for naught. If
you need further incentive keep in mind I just apprenticed my son to
Yakushi-san. I imagine he would react strongly to anyone hurting his
charge.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"How did you trick
Kenshin into taking your brat under his wing? He's turned down a
dozen apprentices that I know of.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It was a lifetime
favor. Why do you think I'm so determined it works out? Now go find
that actor and make sure he'll keep his mouth shut. And not by
killing him.” The daimyo turned and strode out of the hall, leaving
his guard to figure out how to undo the damage.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">By the time night fell
Hiroshi was more exhausted than he thought possible. The afternoon
passed in a blur, 'falling training' mostly consisted of Kenshin
throwing him into things at high speed. His bruises were bruised. All
he could think of was a long soak followed by sleeping for a week.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">When he failed to appear
for dinner Kenshin went looking. The last thing he needed was his
apprentice escaping from his home on the first day. When he went to
check the bathhouse he found his wayward pupil sound asleep in the
furo, head barely above the water line. His fingers hovered above
black clouds and half a flower intricately inked on an exposed
shoulder. Of all the secrets his student held, this was one he never
expected. “Oi, wake up, time for dinner.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi woke in a world
of pain. The hot water did little to relieve the ache of muscles
pushed far beyond their usual bounds. “Huh, what?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I would not have
expected you to have a tattoo. Such a rebellious student I've managed
to end up with. Sakura at dawn, and done by an irezumi master.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It's permanent, of
course I went to a master.” Kenshin's gentle teasing picked at his
student's last thread of patience. “Is nothing in my life private
anymore?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Not from me.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The smug smile on his
master's face pushed the normally reserved Hiroshi over the edge.
“You have got to be kidding me. As if being relegated to this
mausoleum isn't enough, now you're spying and prying for my father as
well?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"My questions are my
own,” Kenshin retorted. “And what I find is for me as well. You
flatter yourself. A boy like you isn't worthy of such a grand plot.
Now get out and dress, our dinner is getting cold.” He reached out
to give Hiroshi a hand, only to have his arm slapped away.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I'm perfectly capable
of getting out of a tub on my own. Now turn around, I don't need you
ogling me.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You think an awful lot
of yourself. Why sakura? I would have pegged you for a dragon or
perhaps yokai. Something more obviously manly, in any event.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It was Jun's
suggestion,” Hiroshi admitted. “He thought it suited my
personality.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Indeed.” Kenshin
stepped behind his student, tracing the pattern with calloused
fingers. “It is beautiful. New life from the darkness. I approve.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Thank you, I guess.
Not that I need your approval.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Sit.” Kenshin pushed
his student down onto the bathing stool, then knelt in front of him.
“I want you to be able to walk tomorrow.” Strong fingers began
kneading tired feet, pushing into tender arches until they relaxed.
“Next time tell me when I'm pushing you too hard.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I did. You laughed at
me.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"My
apologies, I forget not everyone works themselves as hard as I do.”
Knotted calves gradually eased under the insistent pressure, and
Hiroshi groaned, curling into the painful bliss. “After we eat I'll
give you some lineament for your hands. It will toughen the skin so
it doesn't tear. For now we will alternate days, swordsmanship one
day, hand to hand the next. Just until you get used to the routine.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I'll try harder, I
promise.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You did very well for
your first day. I just set my expectations too high. We will find a
balance, I'm sure.” Kenshin stood and hoisted him to his feet.
“Better? Do you think you can walk to the table?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I'll manage. Give me a
few minutes to dress and I'll join you.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Over dinner they spoke of
inconsequential things. Their mutual disdain for the pageantry of
rule had them giggling into their cups at Hiroshi's uncanny mimicry
of some of the daimyo's advisors. For the first time Kenshin thought
that, perhaps, this arrangement might work out and he let go of some
of his lingering resentment over the change in his routine. </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi
was exhausted, yet sleep eluded him. All his plans of sleeping for a
week fled the moment he stretched out on the futon. Instead of
wandering in the land of dreams his mind kept flashing pictures of
his new mentor. His cock lay hot and heavy against his thigh,
stirring to life at the thought of the corded muscles of Kenshin's
back. Yet again he couldn't help but wonder if his new master's ass
was as impressively sculpted. <i>So
he's attractive. Lots of men are. Jun is devoted to me. I owe him my
fidelity. </i></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Despite his internal
monologue, the nagging thoughts of Kenshin unguarded, eyes dark with
lust and twinkling with amusement, niggled at his control. Hiroshi's
cock twitched against his thigh, filling with blood against his
wishes. He wrapped his hand around his straining erection, a squeeze
and a single stroke from balls to tip had him arching off the futon
with a passionate sigh. Another slow stroke further inflamed his
passion. The thought of his new master overhearing him masturbating
evoked a strange mixture of lust and embarrassment, and he bit his
lip in an effort to stifle any further suspicious noises. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">His eyes fluttered shut,
his cock swelling as he pictured Jun sprawled naked on tangled
sheets. Despite his intentions, the man he pictured grew taller and
heavier, sleekly feminine features growing more rugged the closer he
came to orgasm. </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">* * *</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Kenshin listened to the
sound of his apprentice pleasuring himself, oblivious to the fact
that paper walls did nothing to keep his actions private. The steady
strokes and occasional low moan only served to remind him just how
long it had been since he'd sought release with another. Hiroshi had
made his displeasure with such an arrangement between them crystal
clear. As unappealing as the prospect was, perhaps the time had come
to seek out a temporary assignation. His friends had spoken highly of
the local pleasure district. Anything would be preferable to spending
his nights listening to the sound of masturbation.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">He tried to remember the
last time he had even thought about sex, let alone touched himself.
In the first few years after his master's death it had been a common
practice. But as time passed he found his thoughts turning in that
direction less and less. As best he could recall, it had been at
least a year, possibly more. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>So
it's settled</i>,
he decided. <i>Tomorrow
I will go and see if the willow world holds anyone of interest to me</i>.
</span>
</div>
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</div>
Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-38767889030911384412016-03-25T10:26:00.000-07:002016-03-25T10:26:04.865-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter Four<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sorry today's installment is a bit late - I have been on the run since before my eyes were actually open this morning. Still, better late than never (and it is still Friday). So, without further ado, on to chapter four.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Dai Yon Shou</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"This will be your
quarters.” Kenshin slid the fusama aside to reveal a large room,
floored with fresh tatami, with several zabuton arranged around a low
table. The butsudon held a simple vase with a willow branch. Shoji
panels on the far wall had been opened onto the central courtyard,
highlighting the view of an elaborate koi pond and single weeping
sakura tree. It was everything Hiroshi admired; simple, restful, and
decorated with exquisite taste. “Get settled in. We will talk more
over the evening meal. If you need anything my housekeeper is at your
service.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi nodded. “Would
you mind if I looked around a bit?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"This is your home now.
If you have need of me I will be in the dojo.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">The fusama had no sooner
shut than it slid open, servants delivering several elaborately
lacquered chests filled with all the belongings from both his
father's house and Jun's simple rooms. The message was clear, his old
life was over.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">He ignored the remains of
his past, choosing to explore his new prison. The house was set in
the traditional square pattern. The front wing contained public
rooms, pristine tatami and the sparse but elegant decoration hinted
that these were rarely used. His room and the room of his new master
were in the right hand wing. To the left he found the kitchen and
servants quarters. The inner walls all slid open to reveal the
courtyard, the outer walls opened onto an encircling hallway whose
outer walls also opened onto an engawa. In the summer all the doors
could be opened to allow cross breezes, keeping it cool and
comfortable even when the weather turned sultry. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Across the back stretched
a massive training hall. Racks of weaponry and highly polished floors
made it clear this room was well-used. Hiroshi watched as his new
master went through a series of elaborate kata, each movement crisply
precise, his gaze turned inward. His eyes lingered on Kenshin,
tracing broad shoulders down a muscular back to a narrow waist. He
couldn't help but wonder if the ass hidden inside baggy hakama was as
well-developed as the rest of the man. Hiroshi shook his head to
clear it of such thoughts, trying to hit on the man in charge of his
life was probably the quickest way to guarantee he'd never again be
free.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Kenshin finished the last
of his kata, bowing to the shrine at the end of the room before
turning to address his new pupil. “Are you getting settled in
alright?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"As well as can be
expected on such short notice. Once my father decides on something
there isn't much time to wrap your mind around it. In his world delay
is a weakness.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It was as unexpected
for me as it was for you,” Kenshin admitted. “I will try to make
the transition as painless as possible.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"So what, exactly, will
we be doing?” Hiroshi knew he should have paid more attention to
his father's lectures. The martial arts had always struck him as
vulgar. When talk turned to battle he usually retreated into his own
mind. Now he found himself at a disadvantage.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"How much training have
you had?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"The minimum I could
get away with.” The admission wasn't easy. A man of his age and
position should be competent in all the disciplines, yet Hiroshi
could barely wield a blade. “I can ride well enough, and I've
mastered some basic sword kata. Beyond that I'm hopeless.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I hardly imagine
you're hopeless. Uninterested, perhaps.” Kenshin turned sharp eyes
on his new apprentice. Hiroshi certainly had the physique to be a
superior warrior, not terribly tall, but nicely proportioned and
well-muscled. In hand to hand combat he would have a decided
advantage. “Tomorrow morning we will start training in earnest.
First we should talk about expectations, yours and mine.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I expect to be
miserable.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I sincerely hope not.
Your father expects me to train you, but I have no intention of being
a tyrant about it. We will assess your strengths and work on those
areas. At your age anything else would require too much
backtracking.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hiroshi slumped against a
support pillar, relief rushing through him. “Thank kami. I was
afraid I would punished for my lack of skill.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"That would be
counterproductive. Neither children or adults learn well from
punishment.” Kenshin rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to
open up the more personal part of the discussion. “What do you know
of masters and their apprentices?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Not much. Most of the
apprentices I've seen have been boys. I've never heard of anyone
taking a student of my age.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"That's true. Usually
by the time a boy reaches adulthood he goes off on his own, although
master and apprentice generally remain close. In your case, however,
your father believes this arrangement will be beneficial to both of
us.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Well, I can certainly
see the benefit to him.” Hiroshi tried, and failed, to mask the
bitterness washing through him. “And I guess it will be of benefit
to me, assuming, that is, I ever find myself in a battle. I have to
admit I am more likely to run in the opposite direction. What I don't
see is any benefit to you. An unwanted intruder who will take up most
of your time and energy isn't something most people would wish for.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Kenshin took a deep
breath to steady himself. “There is another aspect to our
relationship. One which your father considered before asking me to
undertake your training. Have you heard of wakashudo?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Old men taking
advantage of boys.” The disdain Hiroshi felt toward such a thing
was obvious.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Masters and
apprentices sharing love,” Kenshin corrected him. “I had such a
relationship with my master and I assure you, I was never taken
advantage of. I loved him and he loved me.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I am neither a child
or a woman. I will not be used in such a fashion.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"So you prefer to give?
I know about your dalliance. Sex with a man is no mystery to you.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I am a man, of course
I prefer the dominant position.” Hiroshi straightened, preparing to
defend himself from being forcibly taken. “So, you see, we are at
an impasse.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I will not pressure
you into anything,” Kenshin assured him. “Although your father
hoped that I could turn you away from your lover.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"My beloved is
beautiful and graceful, a talented performer in and out of bed. I can
only hope he will forgive me for abandoning him without even a
goodbye.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Some things are beyond
our control. Surely your lover can understand that. If not, perhaps
he is not worthy of your devotion.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"It is I who am not
worthy.” Hiroshi dropped his head, stress was muddling his thoughts
at the moment he could least afford it. “I am resigned to this
apprenticeship. In time, perhaps, we will become friends. I could
certainly use one.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"That is all anyone
could ask for.” Kenshin stepped forward and clasped forearms with
his new student. “Enough talk. I, for one, could use a good soak. I
will be in the furo if you care to join me.”</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Jun woke in an unfamiliar
room with a stranger leaning over him. Panic surged and he struggled
to push himself away from the threat. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Don't.” A hand
pushed down on his chest, keeping him in place. The image in front of
him resolved into a wizened old woman. “I have done what I can, but
you are still hurt. Stay as still as you can so you don't undo all my
work.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Thank you for your
kindness, but I will be fine on my own,” Jun insisted.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You were near death.
Relax and let yourself recover. No one will bother you here.” She
lifted a small bowl to his lips. “Drink, it will help with the
pain.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">He downed the contents,
questions bursting in his brain. “Who are you? Where am I?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"My name is Aoi. I'm a
healer. Your neighbor saw the soldiers leaving your house and went to
check on you. It is good he brought you here, without treatment you
would surely have died.” She turned away and ladled broth into a
bowl. “I had almost given up hope. It has been several days, and
this is the first time you have been conscious.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"I owe you a debt I
cannot repay.” He sunk back into the futon and shut his eyes,
feigning sleep while he contemplated his new turn of circumstance.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-66137600240946727322016-03-22T05:57:00.000-07:002016-03-22T05:57:33.066-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter Three<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now - on to chapter three...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s1600/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s640/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>Interlude</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi
soon fell into a comfortable relationship. For several hours every
morning and evening they lingered together, exchanging ideas about
how they could best improve the lives of the creatures living on
their islands. Susanoo refused to join in their discussions,
preferring to work his wiles on individuals and reveling in the chaos
they introduced into his siblings' plan. Inside, however, he hankered
for their acceptance. This conflict drove him to ever greater heights
in an attempt to garner their father's undivided attention. He spent
his days looking for the lynch-pin, the one human who could throw the
entire nation into turmoil. Once he had his pawn, then he could make
his move.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>Dai San Shou</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Jun was pulled from his
misery by the sound of footsteps on the engawa. “You came back.”
He ran out into the hall to greet his lover, only to find the entry
filled with soldiers. “How dare you break into a lady's home,” he
hissed. “Leave at once.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"We are here to collect
Murakami-san's belongings. Step aside or we will have to restrain
you,” the leader of the group explained.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Soldiers filled the
space, pawing through chests to create a messy pile of male clothing.
“Stop that.” Jun threw himself against the nearest samurai in an
attempt to snatch back the garments clenched in an armored fist.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You would be smart not
to fight us,” the leader of the squad insisted. “We would prefer
not to restrain you.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Take your hands off
Hiroshi's things. He'll punish you for this insolence.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Murakami-san will not
be returning.” The commander's grip on Jun tightened. “His father
will no longer tolerate this assignation. Hiroshi is being sent to
live with Yakushi-sama. It is past time for him to be trained in the
way of budo. Do yourself a favor and forget you ever met, for it is
certain you will never meet again.” </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Hiroshi would never
abandon me,” Jun sobbed. “We are eternal lovers. We swore never
to be parted.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"That is not a promise
he was free to make to a woman like you. The daimyo's heir needs a
match worthy of his family name. No street whore, no matter how
lovely, could ever hope to win his hand.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I am no whore.” Jun
rose to his full height, glaring imperiously at the men surrounding
him. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You aren't a woman,
either,” the guard realized. “Hey, this girl is a man.” The
atmosphere in the room turned dark. The samurai amused themselves by
shoving Jun back and forth between them, stripping off layers with
each pass. Finally he was naked except for remnant face paint smeared
across his cheek and a single kanzashi caught in the tangle of his
hair. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You'll pay for this.”
Jun found himself pressed onto the tatami, rough hands leaving
bruises on soft flesh. His protests faded under the onslaught, all
his energy focused on weathering the storm. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">One by one the soldiers
took their turn, filling Jun's mouth or ass. He gagged as semen
blocked his throat, thrashing and coughing. His lips were turning
blue when he finally vomited up the contents of his stomach on the
man currently using him. The punch to the head that followed rendered
him unconscious, not that his abusers cared. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">When the last of them had
taken his pleasure they gathered Hiroshi's things and left. The
battered man on the tatami would never again be thought beautiful.
And deep in his ocean lair, Susanoo smiled.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>* * *</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mai
added water to the inkstick, swirling the mixture with her brush
until the consistency was perfect. She eyed the blank page with
trepidation. This was her one chance to convince Kenshin to meet, a
mistake could leave her relegated to the women's quarters in the
Shogun's palace. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>I'd
rather be dead.</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
She made a mental note to visit the herbalist, surely there was no
harm in being prepared for the worst. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">She shook her head to
clear it, shutting her eyes and picturing the future she wanted. Then
she lifted the brush and began to write. Defying all logic, she
decided to eschew the flowery phrases and subtle innuendo so favored
by the court. Instead, she spoke from the heart, going into detail
about her dreams. She hoped Kenshin would read between the lines and
realize the plan meant freedom for both of them. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">She folded the letter
carefully, melting wax to seal it with her chop. The last thing she
needed was one of her brother's councilors opening her plea. Mai
delivered the sealed message to her attendant, asking that it be
delivered immediately. Then she went to the shrine to light incense
and pray.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Amaterasu, grant me
this boon. Turn Yakushi-san's heart in my direction. As your daughter
I ask this blessing. In return, I will devote my life to honoring you
and becoming the warrior you need me to be.”</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>* * * </b></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Hiroshi glared sullenly
through the window of the carriage, ignoring the scenery in favor of
plotting revenge on his father. He was pulled from his introspection
when they turned off the road down a drive lined with old pines. He
distantly noted the serenity of his surroundings, carefully manicured
plantings highlighting swirls of sand. Craggy rocks punctuated the
scene, mountains writ small, their texture emphasizing the whole. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The door to the carriage
opened, his guard eying him warily. “Are you coming, or do I need
to carry you?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Don't be ridiculous.”
Hiroshi stepped onto the path, unconsciously straightening his
garments. If he had to be here it was best to make a positive
impression. Good behavior would be the quickest path to regaining
some freedom. Thoughts of Jun's disappointed face when he failed to
reappear tore at his heart. He quickly pushed them aside, no point in
dwelling on what he couldn't change.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Welcome to my home.”
Kenshin bowed politely, deep enough to acknowledge Hiroshi's family
ties, but shallow enough to make it clear who was in charge. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"My apologies for
intruding.” A deeper bow, held a fraction longer, acknowledged the
status quo. “I hope my father hasn't caused you too much trouble.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I am honored to be
tasked with training Murakami-sama's only son.” The cryptic
response gave no indication of the samurai's true feelings. “Was
your journey pleasant?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"As much as any
unexpected travel could be. My father sprang this on me without
warning. I can only hope his lackeys collected all my possessions.”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.20in; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Anything missing can
be sent for,” Kenshin assured him. “You will be here for the
forseeable future, I want your stay to be a comfortable one.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-57463387651116312472016-03-18T05:30:00.000-07:002016-03-18T05:30:32.113-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter Two<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I have decided to try and post chapters twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays...with luck I shall stay ahead of that schedule! Now, On to Chapter Two</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s1600/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s640/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>Dai Ni Shou</b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mai waited patiently for
the emperor’s attention to turn to her. “Brother, you look
tired.” </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"My councilors believe
it is time you were married,” he said without preamble. “The
Shogun is looking for a new consort and they think it best it were
you. It would strengthen his loyalty to our house.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I shall not,” she
declared, eyes flashing angrily. “I am not some piece of meat to be
bartered at your whim. The Shogun is old and ugly. Besides, he
already has a wife and a concubine. Surely the sister of the emperor
deserves better than the position of third plaything. Is that really
the future you wish to sentence me to?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Do you have a better
suggestion? I am open to other alliances, but it is high time you
were wed.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I have thought long
and hard about it,” Mai admitted. “My preference would be never
to marry, but I know that is not an option. Still, there is one man I
would consider.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Who is this mysterious
man my sister deems worthy of her attentions? And what benefit does
such a joining bring to our house?” </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Yakushi Kenshin, my
lord. He is the chief retainer of Murakami-sama, a strong warrior
with the ear of his liege. A marriage to him would solidify your ties
with that region. He is also still single. The position of first wife
is certainly more appealing to me.” </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"It would be a
marginally acceptable match,” the emperor admitted. “But he has
always avoided the ties of marriage. What makes you think you can
convince him?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Of course, that had been
part of her plan. The fact that he had no interest in marriage made
it less likely she would be forced into a traditional relationship.
She hoped to convince Kenshin they could form an alliance of
convenience. She would be his wife in appearance only, with no
obligation on his part to visit her bed. In return, he would help her
become stronger and give her the freedom to train openly, perhaps
even fight at his side. Just in case, she had picked a man who would
appeal to any woman – strong, fair of face and relatively young. If
he insisted on consummating the relationship it would not be
offensive. “I believe I have more to offer than the average
candidate,” she replied. “Arrange a meeting and let me try to
convince him, at least.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I will consider your
proposal,” the emperor decided. “You will be notified if a
meeting can be arranged. Until then I expect you to consider other
possibilities. One way or another you will be wed this season.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Yes, my lord. Thank
you for your patience.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You are my sister. I
would like to see you happy, if such a thing is possible.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mai made the required
formal prostrations, backing out of the room as quickly as possible
while keeping her face averted to hide the gleeful smirk she could
not contain. Once outside she raced to her rooms, heedless of the
disdainful looks she received from her brother’s concubines as she
passed. She had been subjected to more than enough lectures about how
a woman of her status should behave. The thought of spending her life
wrapped in elaborate silks and tittering behind a fan filled her with
contempt. She had no desire to act the simpering fool, even less so
if it meant she had to suffer a man’s heavy hands and sour breath
in her bed. She would make Kenshin accept her, whatever it took. The
alternative was too grim to contemplate.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>*
* *</b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Kenshin swept through the
corridors of the daimyo’s palace, the look on his face causing
everyone he passed to fall back in fear. It was obvious the powerful
samurai was angry, beyond angry, he was livid with rage, and the
pampered courtiers did not wish to provoke him further. No one wanted
to risk losing their head over something they had no part in. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">He roughly yanked the
reins from the servant holding his horse, vaulting into the saddle
and galloping off. As he rode he cursed the kami for his change of
fortune. He passed a small shrine and decided to stop, lighting
incense and clapping his hands three times before bowing his head.
“Amaterasu, you have withdrawn your warmth. Tsukuyomi, you no
longer light the darkness. You have abandoned me to my fate and
delivered me into the hands of your brother Susanoo with his penchant
for chaos and destruction. I curse you and these islands to eternal
darkness. May the yokai come and devour all your faithful. May their
blood run like rivers across this land while I watch and laugh.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Then he was back on his
horse, speeding for home. The last thing he wanted was his new charge
to arrive before he did.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Once there he gathered
his servants to inform them of Hiroshi’s impending arrival. “He
shall use the rooms next to mine. Have them aired and fresh tatami
laid. We do not wish to make our guest feel unwelcome.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"No one could look at
that face and feel welcome,” one of the maids whispered.
“Yakushi-sama looks like a storm cloud.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"How our master looks
or feels is none of your concern,” the housekeeper hissed. “Your
job is to follow his instructions, not meddle in his affairs.
Murakami-sama is an honored guest of our master. Make sure you treat
him as such.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Kenshin quickly retreated
to his own rooms, his mood improving as soon as he exchanged the too
formal kimono for his more usual hakama. Once he stopped to think
about it, the situation didn’t seem nearly as dire. He tried to
picture his new charge, but the only memories he could conjure were
of a small boy in a grass-stained kimono with a smile like the sun. </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>*
* *</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Jun studied his
reflection in the small hand mirror, tilting his head from side to
side to make sure the illusion was perfect. “How do I look?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You look beautiful, as
always,” Hiroshi assured him. Indeed, with his makeup applied and
dressed in layers of silk, Jun could rival any courtesan. “Are you
off to the theater, then?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"No, silly. I'm going
with you.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">An icy frisson crept up
Hiroshi's spine. Jun might be beautiful, but the thought of passing
him off as a woman to his father was one he couldn't contemplate.
“That would not be wise. If you are discovered we will both suffer
for it. Just wait here for me, I will be back soon.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"But if he thinks
you've found someone he will stop pushing you to marry. I do not wish
to lose you to another.” Jun pressed himself against his lover,
using all his skill to convince Hiroshi to go along with his plan.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The heady scent of
sandalwood and sakura left Hiroshi breathless. It was all he could do
to fight the urge to unwrap the layers hiding his lover from view and
carry him back to bed. For a moment he was lost in contemplation,
picturing that perfect mask smeared across pristine sheets. The
consequences of being late to a meeting with his father, though,
outweighed his burgeoning erection. “It is impossible. Even if he
were to believe your disguise, you lack the pedigree he demands. I
will deal with my father. I've managed to evade his matchmaking this
long, I'm sure today will be no different.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Jun's smile slid into a
pout. “But I get so lonely when you're away. You wouldn't want me
to have to seek another's company.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Threatening me isn't
going to change my mind.” The blatant manipulation turned regret
into anger. “Perhaps it is time I find a more suitable consort.”
Hiroshi pushed his lover away to continue dressing, pulling on his
heavily embroidered kamishimo and sliding his swords into the proper
place. And then he was gone.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The mirror smashed
against the wall, followed by an assortment of bottles and boxes as
Jun vented his fury on the contents of his dressing table. Rage
dissipated and turned to tears. The illusion broke, leaving a weeping
mess crumpled in its wake. </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>*
* *</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"You summoned me?”
Hiroshi knelt before his father, head bowed subserviently.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Your rebellion has
gone on long enough,” the daimyo declared. “I have made
arrangements for you to apprentice with one of my samurai.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I respectfully request
you reconsider. I am far too old for such an arrangement. It would be
unseemly.” Inside Hiroshi was panicking. An apprenticeship would
put an end to his freedom. Instead of long lazy days in the arms of
his lover the future would be filled with hours of tedious practice
and meditation under the eyes of a dour warrior. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"What
is unseemly is your behavior. Did you think me blind, that I wouldn't
notice your dalliance with that actor? You will do as I say, today. I
have already sent some men to gather your belongings and take them to
your new home.” The daimyo was unmoved by his son's protests. In
his heart he hoped Hiroshi would find happiness, but he couldn't
allow that wish to compromise his actions. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"And if I refuse?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Refusal is not an
option. You will do as I command. Go willingly or suffer the insult
of being bound and delivered. The choice is yours.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Hiroshi briefly
considered resisting, if only for the pleasure of seeing his father
discomfited. The daimyo would certainly suffer more from the loss of
face caused by him leaving under duress. But then he realized
arriving at his new home bound and gagged would eliminate any chance
at freedom. Perhaps, if he cooperated, he would be able to slip away
and at least bid his lover farewell. Regret threatened to overwhelm
him. If he had known what awaited he would never have passed up a
last chance to lay with the man who had captured his heart. “I will
go willingly. Anywhere is better than here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The daimyo nodded to the
waiting guards. They flanked Hiroshi, leading him out of the hall to
the carriage that would deliver him to his future.</span></div>
Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-3878321005340437772016-03-15T07:03:00.001-07:002016-03-16T06:00:17.331-07:00Onna Bugeisha - Chapter One<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the interest of pushing myself to keep making progress I have decided to post my WIP chapter by chapter. This one is taking me forever, probably because I tried, and failed, to plot it in advance. I did plot it...but the characters have their own ideas about how the story goes!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is Onna Bugeisha, set in 17th century Japan, a twisted quadrangle of love and revenge. </span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; font-family: "verdana"; text-align: center;">Mai sets her sights on the stoic samurai, Kenshin. Kenshin desires his new apprentice, his master's son Hiroshi. Hiroshi longs for his lover, the cross-dressing actor Jun. And Jun, well he just wants revenge. Duty, honor, love and bloodshed collide in this tale of homoerotic love.</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; font-family: "verdana"; text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; font-family: "verdana"; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s1600/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz97mkTM4GFDof3u4JY3OGv1Y6PO625DwbCbl8EtIOQFlQC_ykPate8LVCHvlrbY3m7_7C9UmhnFiOXaAN5PbXp9ex6qzI664_EnDEDaOwVBX-239Xhw4aXzRXULuWXFV0DFDhDio8G-4P/s640/Onna+Bugeisha+cover.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; font-family: "verdana"; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8;"><b>Creation</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;">Izanagi was tired. Creating the islands of Japan took more energy
than he had anticipated. He looked down on them and tears gathered in
the corners of his eyes. What would become of the men born on these
most beautiful islands? Three tears escaped, one falling from his
left eye, one from his right, while the last slid down his nose
before dropping to earth. As the tears landed they transformed into
powerful kami, his sons and daughter, Tsukuyomi, Susanoo and
Amaterasu. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;">“Look at the beauty before you, my children,” he entreated.
“Guard these islands and their inhabitants. Keep them safe and
bless them with your gifts.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
Amaterasu was quick to agree. “Of course, Father. I will bless them
with light and warmth.” She ascended to the heavens and took her
place as the sun goddess. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;">“I, too, wish to help,” Tsukuyomi declared. “Even at night they
will need light to keep evil at bay.” He took his place next to his
sister as the moon.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:=""><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="line-height: 0.14in; text-indent: 0.4in;">Susanoo, however, was more reckless and less well mannered. “You
make it too easy for these puny humans, Father. They need conflict to
grow and reach their potential. I will give them the gift of
unpredictability.” He descended into the ocean and whipped up
fierce storms and raging seas.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 20.592px;"><b style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; text-indent: 0px;">Dai Isshou</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 110%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 110%; text-indent: 0.4in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 110%; text-indent: 0.4in;">Step, slide, twist,
swing. Stray beams of light flickered across the blade of the
naginata, a counterpoint to the soft shush of bare feet on tatami.
Mai shut her eyes and concentrated. The sound of the blade reminded
her of wings in flight. She envied the freedom of birds, she couldn't
even train openly. Nothing in her life was more hateful than the
sneaking around and hiding she had to do. All across Japan, samurai
women trained, and even fought, side by side with men. Surely she
deserved the same privilege.</span></div>
</div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Muffled voices resolved
as they grew closer. Mai doused the single candle and slipped behind
an elaborately carved jade screen. <i>Hiding like a dog, again.</i>
Resentment bubbled up inside her, and she forced herself to bottle
the urge to strike out at the source, settling instead for
eavesdropping. She held her breath, recognizing her brother's airy
tones. His patience with her had been growing thin of late, and
getting caught listening in on his private discussions would not help
her position.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mai shifted cautiously,
trying to get a better angle on the room through the perforations of
the screen, and watched her sibling pace back and forth. Concealment
was well worth the discomfort of being wedged into such a confined
space. <i>Son of Heaven, indeed</i>, she thought with a sniff. <i>If
he was a god he would know I was here.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:="">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She didn't bother trying
to see the speaker. It didn't really matter which one of her
brother's so-called councilors it was, they were uniform in their
desire to get her safely married and miles away.<i> </i>Mai shivered
when the emperor's eyes seemed to meet hers, wondering if his anger
would be as much for her state of dress as for her eavesdropping. Of
course, subterfuge was to be expected in the palace. A princess
dressed like a man, on the other hand, was a serious breach of
protocol.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:="">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Of course, she
immediately regretted her harsh thoughts. She loved her brother and
hated the thought of disappointing him. <i>Perhaps I should start
giving some thought to who I would be open to marrying</i>.<i> If I
choose wisely it might not be so bad.</i></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Mai immediately crossed
the Shogun off her list. True, he wielded real power, but he was also
an old man, one who preferred his women docilely locked up at home
awaiting his return. That wasn't the future she wanted. After a
lifetime cooped up in the palace under lock and key she longed for
the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Of course, that same
reasoning also excluded all of the daimyo from her consideration. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She scooted back from the
screen, curling into the corner while the discussion droned on and
concentrating on the issue at hand. One by one she considered, and
rejected, the prime candidates. Surely there must be one man in the
entire country she wouldn't despise as a husband. And then it came to
her and Mai smiled.</span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">*
* *</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span 0.1in="" 0.4in="" 110="" line-height:="" margin-bottom:="" text-indent:="">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span arial="" font-family:="" sans-serif=""><span style="font-size: normal;">Murakami-sama better
appreciate this.” The low grumble went unnoticed by the hangers-on
he passed in the corridor. They might be dressed alike, but it was
very clear these so-called advisers would not pose a challenge,
should he find reason to oppose them, so they faded to the side to
allow him to pass. </span></span>
</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">“<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">You summoned me?” He
straightened from his bow to look his liege in the eye.</span></span></div>
</h3>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">I need a favor from
you, my friend.” The daimyo paced restlessly, eyes fixed on the
floor as he concentrated on how to explain what he wanted. “It's my
son.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Hiroshi-kun?”
Kenshin was more than a little surprised. The boy was obviously his
father's pride and joy. He couldn't imagine what sort of problem he
could have caused. “What did he do, get some pillow girl pregnant?”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Not exactly.” The
daimyo hesitated to reveal the reason behind his request. In truth he
was more than worried about his son, he was furious. “He’s
eighteen now, it's time he left home and lived life away from his
mother's influence. As a friend I ask for this favor. Take Hiroshi
under your wing. Teach him what it means to be samurai. Protect him
from my enemies and his own foolishness. There is no one else I trust
to do this for me.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal; font-weight: normal;">Kenshin bit his cheek to
keep it from twitching. This was exactly the sort of entanglement
he'd worked hard to avoid. He'd neatly avoided marriage, claiming his
duty to the man now attempting to foist an even deeper involvement
upon him. “My lord, I do not think I am the right person for this
task. I am but a simple soldier, I know nothing of the demands of
court or the burden of leadership.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">I know exactly what
you are. Besides, it is high time you found a suitable bed partner.
You can’t keep denying yourself, it is unhealthy. I need you at
your best, and I need a son worthy of assuming my position. You have
the strength needed to mold him, and sufficient gentleness not to
break him. My mind is set.” </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">You would bargain your
child as a bed toy?” Kenshin spat the words out without thinking.
He bowed low, murmuring his apology. “My lord, forgive my insult. I
did not mean to question your decision. I will gladly commit seppuku
to atone.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Do not be ridiculous.”
The daimyo reached down and tilted the samurai’s face so he could
meet his eyes. “Hiroshi has been spending his nights with an actor,
an out-caste. As his father I want him to be happy, but I cannot
allow such an affair to continue. You are much more suitable. Love
between a master and apprentice is acceptable, even encouraged. You
have never married and you do not have a pillow girl. I felt it safe
to assume women do not appeal to you. Surely you do not wish to spend
the rest of your life alone?”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal; font-weight: normal;">Kenshin’s mind whirled.
He thought he had been discrete in his desires, looking, yet never
acting upon them. True, there was no shame in taking a male lover.
His teacher had introduced him to the pleasures of such a
relationship. But as the older, more experienced party he would be
expected to take the dominant role, and the thought filled him with
trepidation. He also feared this was the start of a slippery slope
that would force him into taking a wife as well. Up to this point his
life had been nearly perfect. Change was something he avoided,
especially a change of this magnitude. “I live to serve, my lord,”
he replied. “If this is your will I shall abide by it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">
“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Good, it is settled
then. I will send my son to your house this afternoon.”</span></span></span></div>
Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-44014034703927119362016-03-03T08:38:00.000-08:002016-03-03T08:38:11.073-08:00Made for This - erotic or appalling?<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This short is part of the wonderful Uncommon Bodies anthology, but as I am now free to share it, I shall. It grew out of a 250 word free write, and has engendered more negative reactions than anything else I have written...which is strange considering how many boundaries I usually break. So, take a couple minutes, give it a read, and let me know if you agree that I am the most disgusting person ever to put pen to paper.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53Uublc6NK2E2lueMMLr24smruwa1myRwVBCkDg7omCEmHHlR9X3XIkMmsx5aS83mFg5u4JnPjORlhrEowz6p8Vb1TVKRzqxQneBKZ9hENRd0ukp2kvzXgA9M2df_HaKOs01DwnAa66RF/s1600/Made+for+This+promo+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53Uublc6NK2E2lueMMLr24smruwa1myRwVBCkDg7omCEmHHlR9X3XIkMmsx5aS83mFg5u4JnPjORlhrEowz6p8Vb1TVKRzqxQneBKZ9hENRd0ukp2kvzXgA9M2df_HaKOs01DwnAa66RF/s640/Made+for+This+promo+image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The irony of his situation was one of its most pleasing aspects. He was, after all, a creature made for submission. To be tied to a master who desired domination almost made up for the past. Almost.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The incident itself was two decades behind him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He barely recognized himself as the shyly snarky pseudo-intellectual who had so earnestly argued gender politics in an attempt to impress some silly coeds. That he had survived the psychosis his words inspired was, truly, miraculous. Or so he had been told. In truth, most days he considered his current life a cruel joke by an angry god. Personal vengeance, perhaps, for some grand transgression he had already forgotten.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His transit from cocky grad student to genderless thing had been swift, not subtle. He'd walked through that park a thousand times without encountering anyone. It never occurred to him that such seclusion might come at a price. To this day he still marveled that so much loss came so silently. He never even heard the shot.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Looking back, he hates how surprised he was to be confronted by a girl he had so easily cast aside. The trauma surgeon refused to try and rebuild the shredded lump of flesh, realizing that salvaging a gnarled stump of cock would be pointless. The bullet had merely nicked his scrotum, but there wasn't much point to balls without a cock, and the repair was simpler with a single graft.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The surgeon had argued the advantages of gender transition. Hormones would be a part of his life now, no matter what. But it was easy to arrogantly argue the benefits of such a thing when not faced with the reality of it. In the end he knew playing at female would be even less satisfactory than accepting his sexlessness. He still had the heart of a cocksman, even if he lacked the necessary equipment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the trial, she laughed when they handed down her punishment. Ten years against his life sentence seemed like a good bargain.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Afterward he tried to go on as if nothing had changed, subsuming his anger in pain pills, liquor and futile, chaste dalliances with women. In the end he found himself neither wiser nor calmer. Even the debates on art and culture he had once so fervently engaged in lost their meaning. His facility with words had vanished with his cock. Listening suited his newly passive nature, until even that required more of himself than he had left to give. The thought that everyone knew drove him into seclusion.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A chance encounter led him to a place he never imagined finding himself. After all, what use is a sex club to the sexless? Five minutes was enough to confirm he longed to be the one wielding the whip. The fact that he was willing to dole out such pain sent him running for the exit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Are you leaving because you hate it, or because you despise yourself for not hating it?” The hand latched onto his arm in a death grip forced him to actually consider the question.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I shouldn't even be here. This is no place for someone like me.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“On the contrary, I think this is exactly where you belong.” The retort on the tip of his tongue melted away as he got his first look at man behind the voice. “Why don't we sit down and you can tell me why you don't think you belong here.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ten years later that voice could still bring him to his knees.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Aren't you a pretty thing.” Such notice from the faceless crowd jerked him back to the present, to the role he was expected to play. It was a toss-up as to which was more unsettling, the crop in his hand, or the massive phallus studded with shiny balls of stainless steel protruding from the codpiece he wore. Both were symbols of how far he had fallen, or risen, he was as conflicted about that as everything else in this scene.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But, as always, that voice had convinced him to push past his conflict with an ease that baffled him. Had he been this easily lead when he was whole? But now was not the time for such philosophical contemplations.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Up on the platform his master shivered in his bonds, inked trails oozing out of the tight corset wrapping his midsection, leather pants jerked down to his knees to expose the pale silky flesh of his ass for all to admire.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Master, the heart of his confliction. The man who had simultaneously saved and condemned him. The sun around which he now orbited, a wayward planet still tugging at its leash. Muscles tensed and twitched in anticipation as he traced idle patterns, afterimages burning a trail that flared into need.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Are you ready?” As ritual demanded he broke his silent contemplation, more sure of the answer than his question.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes.” The husky tremor in his master's voice spurred his resolve. The crop snapped against porcelain flesh, leaving a mark, his mark, and the demon of rage slumbering inside him tore free.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When he finally stopped every inch of exposed flesh bore the record of his madness, reddened welts mixing with tribal tattoos in a cacophony of frustrated desire.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now came the part he dreaded. The beast inside him tamed, for the moment, leaving him without the will to finish this passion play. That his master was willing, prepped and waiting gave him no comfort. The murmur of the watchers spurred him into action, burying the ridiculous faux-cock to the hilt.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His fingernails dug ragged furrows into reddened cheeks as his mind trumpeted the futility of his actions. Pegging was a game for women, not men. His cheeks flamed as he realized all the silent watchers must know of his peculiar lack. In an effort to disprove that knowledge he redoubled his efforts, plowing into the writhing figure with greater abandon.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As with all good things, his frustrated rage couldn't last. Absent sexual satisfaction or the driving force of anger, their copulation became just another task to complete. He found himself counting the indentations on the soundproofed wall, picturing towering mammatus clouds in their place. When the figure beneath him began to whimper he breathed a silent sigh of relief. The sticky spray of his master's semen meant he could, at last, put aside this facade.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The transit from top to bottom was mercifully brief. The cruel cock discarded, he was stripped, spread, bound, and his soul absolved. Freed from the need to think, able to lose himself in the sensations of the moment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This was the moment he now lived for, his desire released from the cage in which he kept it securely locked up.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the first cock slipped inside him his breath caught, by the fifth he was panting, by the tenth, at last, transported. He shuddered through what passed as orgasm and fell into darkness. His last thought that, perhaps, he could stay cocooned in the soft richness of this moment.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 0.1in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0.4in; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His eyes snapped open, Master slumbered beside him, ointment-coated welts glistening in the dim light. And so, it began again, the futile race to oblivion that trapped him in the present. His joy, his terror, his destiny fulfilled.</span></div>
Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-3217842179144843112016-01-06T05:47:00.003-08:002016-01-06T05:47:41.987-08:00Moonlit Escapades<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_xnUJzQm6G9H_E_Hs-9g1BT52cZLWiabp374uGQ2EGT5aRaOjicAEIHpSGfFVMzJgq7xz8sX9yQ7Btd-g-ZLRrya09pMUdkYjDJfEHqelyr-zdV3wua18rm4-MI9NyGi9EWYRs_vUptn/s1600/moonlit7.5-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_xnUJzQm6G9H_E_Hs-9g1BT52cZLWiabp374uGQ2EGT5aRaOjicAEIHpSGfFVMzJgq7xz8sX9yQ7Btd-g-ZLRrya09pMUdkYjDJfEHqelyr-zdV3wua18rm4-MI9NyGi9EWYRs_vUptn/s640/moonlit7.5-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>BLURB</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is
never a time when a visit from old friends isn’t comforting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ever wonder
how Jex and Matt ended up in that compromising position in book 4? Or
what the fight between Phil and Craig was about? Or how about how
they all became so close and ended up living together?</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, here’s
your chance. All the missing pieces that were linked but not fully
explained are bundled together in this heart-warming anthology, and
just in time for Christmas, because who doesn’t like to visit from
family at this time of year.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Note: series
must be read in order, but these shorts can be read separately,
they’ll just be enjoyed more as companions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>LINKS</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27484780-moonlit-escapades" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </u></span></span><u style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.extasybooks.com/bronwyn-heeley/Moonlit-Escapades/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">eXtasybooks</a> </u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Moonlit-Escapades-Wolves-Book-ebook/dp/B019EVL1XU">Amazon</a></u></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=series&qString=Moonlit+Wolves">ARe</a></u></span></span> <span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/12575">Smashwords</a></u></span></span> <span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/search?query=Moonlit%20Wolves&fcsearchfield=Series&seriesId=2620d0ea-1944-58ae-960a-7d6798b6fa56">Kobo</a></u></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/bronwyn+heeley?_requestid=556155" target="_blank">Barnes&Noble</a></u></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><br /></u></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdBfYnCWZaw_O1E3MWY7fj5gOGrAFoQMA6Am4SAlWZShEubxQXmi_HcWthEVar6v48dlTeJkZ1HdV-kZ6IOICOFeR1rLiuPk-VRmO-Cj4WP-dN8h9YN2NtxgfHzsqBjBZEK0Wb4wuqbzW/s1600/Moonlit+Wolves+7.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdBfYnCWZaw_O1E3MWY7fj5gOGrAFoQMA6Am4SAlWZShEubxQXmi_HcWthEVar6v48dlTeJkZ1HdV-kZ6IOICOFeR1rLiuPk-VRmO-Cj4WP-dN8h9YN2NtxgfHzsqBjBZEK0Wb4wuqbzW/s640/Moonlit+Wolves+7.5.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Excerpt </b></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jex
let out a sigh of relief as he sat back into the lounge. Matt and he
hadn’t been in this house for a long time, but he had definitely
felt more at home quicker than at any of the other place his father
took him.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However,
his dad hadn’t been the kindest person, and they’d moved from one
town to the next, leaving many people hating him because of what his
father had done. Matt, with a quick kidnapping and a much-needed
getaway, brought Jex to this lovely little town out in the boondocks,
an unlikely place his father would never bother to look.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’d
reached town and a house full to the brim with men. Matt’s cousin
and a bunch of mates had taken them both in and treated Jex like no
one had done before Matt.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jex
loved the freedom of being himself, even if they all turned out to be
a werewolf every time the moon was full. A lot to take in, but he had
seen a lot of violence and bullshit in his life, so the werewolf
factor seemed like a cakewalk.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In
addition, he’d personally seen Matt change, so who was he to say
something didn’t exist?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A
cold bottle tapped on his shoulder, making Jex look over his
shoulder. He took the bottle.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking
a long drink of this piss-shit that the bottle label said was beer,
he studied Matt. His lover rounded the couch and sat down next to
him. Jex wasn’t a fan of Tooheys, he was more a VB man, but beggars
couldn’t be choosers—or, more for him, lazy arses deserved to
drink horse piss. He was, however, a fan of the man—tall, blonde,
with deep-set eyes. He was like a walking wet dream. Someone who
needed to be naked and fucking so everyone would see his true beauty.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
was a fucking dream. Jex’s dream. Even if it had taken the guy a
couple of turns to realise just how Matt liked it when Jex fucked him
and then give him more than he’d ever understood he wanted. Jex
reckoned it came from the fact that he hadn’t ever been free to
actually fuck another person before Matt.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
“Taste like shit?” Matt chuckled next to him.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For
the first time in a long time—and yet not a first for the
thought—Jex wondered what he saw in a man who actually liked this
shit.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Why
ask when you know the answer,” Jex spat back at him around another
mouthful of beer. He was hoping if he drank it fast enough and got
the buzz of beer in his system, it might actually start tasting nice.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matt
shook his head really slowly. That you’re fucking crazy shake,
though the twitch of his lips held the joke.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
“Fucking arse,” Jex muttered, finishing off his
first bottle with a cringe—Fuck! This shit was bad.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matt
chuckled again. “Ah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jex
shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips at the words, only
his mouth hadn’t even completed the move before Matt’s lips
covered his. The move Jex had been waiting for finally came. He
snickered softly into Matt’s mouth. They were alone after all.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “It
makes me feel all gooey inside to see you smile like that, and
knowing it’s all mine... gets me hot as hell,” Matt whispered, a
breath away from Jex’s lips.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jex’s
back arched at the scrape of whiskers against his upper lip. “Gooey?”
Jex tried to make it a joke, not being able to deal with the softer
sides of love.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Oh,
yeah,” Matt moaned theatrically. “It’s like melted lava inside
me, mate.”</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “So
you’re a cooked marshmallow?” Jex muttered between the light
kisses Matt was giving him. He needed more than the teasing. Already
his skin was hot, his cock throbbed. He hated the teasing. Jex needed
more... rubbing, thrusting, harder!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
“Cooked Marshmallow?” Matt pulled back, apparently,
finally, thinking around his own cock to what Jex had said.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
“Shut up, man.” Jex laughed. “How can I think with
my cock this hard?”</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matt
burst out into laughter. Jex shifted back as Matt’s weight
transferred onto his knees, since he’d straddled Jex sometime
during the kiss.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>ABOUT
AUTHOR</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll show you mine, if
you'll show me yours... da da da da dum, author of MM romance</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And to let me know just
contact me at one of the following links </span>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="mailto:beeheeley@gmail.com" target="_blank">Email me </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.bronwynheeley.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://beeheeley.wix.com/bronwynheeley" target="_blank">Website</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7731616.Bronwyn_Heeley" target="_blank">Goodreads </a></span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-20860902522586181042015-11-18T10:52:00.000-08:002015-11-18T10:52:20.212-08:00Just a reminder...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just a reminder to all the pundits, authorities, know-it-alls, complainers and whiners...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hJO-NxYWjw0JeUqwUBZOtJEUzVCmxcK_z5l52meGZF4oWnXbqjiHNTdOJdELb7Wt09Beu13SCiOdCGkSXReWH-T51JlAO-qvUYMY26k2pPtk9gcsi1g_5Li8nqisC4KUt6rjUi6f4knK/s1600/Fuck+your+authenticity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hJO-NxYWjw0JeUqwUBZOtJEUzVCmxcK_z5l52meGZF4oWnXbqjiHNTdOJdELb7Wt09Beu13SCiOdCGkSXReWH-T51JlAO-qvUYMY26k2pPtk9gcsi1g_5Li8nqisC4KUt6rjUi6f4knK/s640/Fuck+your+authenticity.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You have no authority to decide what anyone else should write or read...period. If you don't like, don't read. If you want to read something you cannot find, write it yourself. THAT is freedom of expression. We are damn lucky to have it. You have no standing to tell someone else what to write, or how to write it. You have no stake in the outcome, no horse in the race. Whining and complaining only makes you look like an idiot. So wise up, practice tolerance. Find what you love and promote it rather than trying to argue and browbeat someone into changing what they do. The world will be a much kinder, calmer place.</span>Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-25765921961278523912015-11-02T08:19:00.005-08:002015-11-02T08:19:47.270-08:00UnCommon Bodies ARCs are here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTemf67ehU_JUjMw61Kmj-d90asTWi0ifCcg8Z9aQDT5CkcQUYNBbPbQykZxQ4AlGZprgGZgb1n0ffcCt5ScROZAcUZxHD4uIW_LcJOW_AX9_ZG0sR7hpsUzbbcN8NmsYTrjx5Zad6Z2P/s1600/uncommon+bodies+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTemf67ehU_JUjMw61Kmj-d90asTWi0ifCcg8Z9aQDT5CkcQUYNBbPbQykZxQ4AlGZprgGZgb1n0ffcCt5ScROZAcUZxHD4uIW_LcJOW_AX9_ZG0sR7hpsUzbbcN8NmsYTrjx5Zad6Z2P/s400/uncommon+bodies+cover.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, time does pass swiftly. Before I had time to blink, ARCs for UnCommon Bodies were in my mailbox! This is an amazing anthology from Fighting Monkey Press which i</span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">ncludes:</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPLSBxF83ChOd3blcaGDUXulClIlwQzrGHjZQssQYrIyDa_WKxJ-3XMormi0IkbUnXYdIJlReJxshATXxrYRk1EwSm1YnU-1ZOsDms0V5btbsQe3r0EeqZQnGqM7-jQ2METhyKPJeK_6O/s1600/weiswe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPLSBxF83ChOd3blcaGDUXulClIlwQzrGHjZQssQYrIyDa_WKxJ-3XMormi0IkbUnXYdIJlReJxshATXxrYRk1EwSm1YnU-1ZOsDms0V5btbsQe3r0EeqZQnGqM7-jQ2METhyKPJeK_6O/s400/weiswe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>We is We</b> By Michael Harris Cohen: We is we follows a day in Mary and Millie’s life, traveling sideshow freaks who’ve lost touch with the outside world.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXp64Eiph2dmUhf6u4WU3gHGdrNJKhq8QMLIMBsMLNgm6OtmNF1upFoc4V_H5Va718gg4ZKlx0q1alZuXKJWPgNOAy0VbUDhKE9MeCC0LPO_0sMSl4_GIUkLaFH38ddRpOTrMoo53TtZY6/s1600/don%2527ttouchme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXp64Eiph2dmUhf6u4WU3gHGdrNJKhq8QMLIMBsMLNgm6OtmNF1upFoc4V_H5Va718gg4ZKlx0q1alZuXKJWPgNOAy0VbUDhKE9MeCC0LPO_0sMSl4_GIUkLaFH38ddRpOTrMoo53TtZY6/s400/don%2527ttouchme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Don’t Touch Me</b> by Bey Deckard: Fighting is what Beau does best, because the very thing he dreads is exactly what lends him the extraordinary strength to defeat even the worst odds. And he does it all with the help of his angel, the woman he longs desperately to hold… but can’t.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeey1iljLwSsVX8aZEI3o5cKwetnPK8yFxk_wM_2KBCej5XGrYONmLxAHFJVbkCfTJyGCqJh0Kpv7fnm6yKlLGz3w9iPjIIiI67IGnC2YNfG4sylbPdU34ae0M4apvRfEZbume5U3BNlWF/s1600/undeadgirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeey1iljLwSsVX8aZEI3o5cKwetnPK8yFxk_wM_2KBCej5XGrYONmLxAHFJVbkCfTJyGCqJh0Kpv7fnm6yKlLGz3w9iPjIIiI67IGnC2YNfG4sylbPdU34ae0M4apvRfEZbume5U3BNlWF/s400/undeadgirl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Undead Cyborg Girl</b> by Kim Wells: When she wakes up undead after receiving a cyborg assassin upgrade surgical procedure, Undead Girl’s life is forever changed. Is it for the better? She has all the skills, but she needs a job, she needs some friends, and she needs to remember who she is. Part 1 of the Cyborg Story trilogy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwgYBX92UNWAtSxb9L1WzAgI0MkVPSaKwJjPC3loutRUdkPqNcksFMJ2LF3UtodpHOLaimgGpfzfR5-KrMco7hAC8oBQ1xylQc-3xZ4mHEKvdp-6ZqeNx2g0nHM1lmVSNK8xTRXCfagAk/s1600/skin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwgYBX92UNWAtSxb9L1WzAgI0MkVPSaKwJjPC3loutRUdkPqNcksFMJ2LF3UtodpHOLaimgGpfzfR5-KrMco7hAC8oBQ1xylQc-3xZ4mHEKvdp-6ZqeNx2g0nHM1lmVSNK8xTRXCfagAk/s400/skin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Skin</b> By Brent Meske: After constant bullying in high school, Patricia vows to change her name and her entire being. When she gains the ability to mold and sculpt flesh, that vow very quickly becomes a terrifying reality.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhai-FB-iLFhFx4Q8lJTCS5ocwwMeo6MnhzjBnyFCmVrledXvXf4obUDrJas-IAYgvzqhAdZfEjzc8mru8usAJ1X7QdbRROmfPjvKTmgvRUS_C2R2Q7SuOQ57cmfjjS5ajFr9UKxlDIezsn/s1600/scars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhai-FB-iLFhFx4Q8lJTCS5ocwwMeo6MnhzjBnyFCmVrledXvXf4obUDrJas-IAYgvzqhAdZfEjzc8mru8usAJ1X7QdbRROmfPjvKTmgvRUS_C2R2Q7SuOQ57cmfjjS5ajFr9UKxlDIezsn/s400/scars.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Scars: First Session</b> by Jordanne Fuller: After a life of abuse, Abigail made the decision to cover her scars with tattoos. What she didn’t expect was to confront her emotional scars in the process.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FpnVLyZF4eUakm8qMVlVs7Mfb2dSGXjyahiaAazR-6F1Gkc35QCvqmCn4qL2Z0Zn6l7oCfx_wDbMKKrFNT5wL9As7MSP3wSCMjXfQyUoi9JhyphenhyphenLUCHTCy1R-WWKQLefguoS5-imuetXTM/s1600/Mermaids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FpnVLyZF4eUakm8qMVlVs7Mfb2dSGXjyahiaAazR-6F1Gkc35QCvqmCn4qL2Z0Zn6l7oCfx_wDbMKKrFNT5wL9As7MSP3wSCMjXfQyUoi9JhyphenhyphenLUCHTCy1R-WWKQLefguoS5-imuetXTM/s400/Mermaids.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Mermaids</b> By Robert Pope: Recently graduated from college, with no work prospects, Aqua-boy—so called because of the webbing between his toes—watches and listens to a group of musicians at a bar/restaurant when he notices the woman playing a diminutive red accordion has six fingers.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_gezPgJaolij_NLSzPvl8-ByloDiaIMqTCHYuQGIu709FDJ2rSf7KkD8k0pw4uvTWFVUHNqXq_qOnagW1dPRIqjRptcvdpt1O2IRYUP2yMv-EaGVx3CnW6f4ORII7EJB-rxeAG0TfsLX/s1600/inherimage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_gezPgJaolij_NLSzPvl8-ByloDiaIMqTCHYuQGIu709FDJ2rSf7KkD8k0pw4uvTWFVUHNqXq_qOnagW1dPRIqjRptcvdpt1O2IRYUP2yMv-EaGVx3CnW6f4ORII7EJB-rxeAG0TfsLX/s400/inherimage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>In Her Image</b> By Vasil Tuchkov: An English PHD student arrives at the scenic but haunting countryside of Matera, Italy, looking for answers. His translator introduces him to a crippled local painter who claims to have depicted the impossible. As the three men converse near the ancient settlement’s caverns, a mystery unravels.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbehWxXW1TzeEM1n3FDMAyZzQFvdIuxR2F0noYxmtfA1soTYb7xhODLSN5V2r2ibe3sfwykq6ODnxZCpzVmGc3bZaYl6jeZwweJRu4LF24d3M6qMCBSZWS7CoVHf24DGKk1m1CE1CxCche/s1600/theirbodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbehWxXW1TzeEM1n3FDMAyZzQFvdIuxR2F0noYxmtfA1soTYb7xhODLSN5V2r2ibe3sfwykq6ODnxZCpzVmGc3bZaYl6jeZwweJRu4LF24d3M6qMCBSZWS7CoVHf24DGKk1m1CE1CxCche/s400/theirbodies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Three Poems</b> By Deanne Charlton: It Runs in the Family, Brenga’s Body, Eternity in a One-night Stand</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rsizNeq-AwUoRBwJlEy8tixvGcRs7JA9aa-Ebil39l8vTBMkhaQRTM0ziEGXze0HAfHYSNXa-eHab_bSQW8KTPGyDJ5w1Q7pxyAfXpdtkETKIDSgegH-B9kPhMeNUieq4_eDiOUgvX2O/s1600/reserved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rsizNeq-AwUoRBwJlEy8tixvGcRs7JA9aa-Ebil39l8vTBMkhaQRTM0ziEGXze0HAfHYSNXa-eHab_bSQW8KTPGyDJ5w1Q7pxyAfXpdtkETKIDSgegH-B9kPhMeNUieq4_eDiOUgvX2O/s400/reserved.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Reserved</b> by SM Johnson: It’s been five years since the accident that killed Pete Spencer’s younger lover and left him grieving, bitter, and broken. He’s tired of his lonely world, but the kind of young men he’s attracted to dismiss him the moment their eyes land on his cane. Pete’s learned to hide behind the safety of his reserve, but he’s never met anyone like Rory.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHDjQmUBrcvNxXcLJrE_hG5zBSu6IkyuZdzeIXaTMd82D96qhz20B173bqWDOg4pwySV9G1jyjI8YDy3Xnmt97jGFna1c5pcCQMu_HOXHzcBHmeZkl8p1UgUMN1O6Dy1u3Z_k5DmPty0n/s1600/untamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHDjQmUBrcvNxXcLJrE_hG5zBSu6IkyuZdzeIXaTMd82D96qhz20B173bqWDOg4pwySV9G1jyjI8YDy3Xnmt97jGFna1c5pcCQMu_HOXHzcBHmeZkl8p1UgUMN1O6Dy1u3Z_k5DmPty0n/s400/untamed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>UnTamed</b> by Laxmi Hariharan: Wolf girl Leana Iyeroy, the first half breed in her family, only ever wanted to be 100% human. An unexpected encounter with the Hugging Saint of Bombay, forces Leana to face the wolf inside her.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o9IlHQjiSP72j_SmsBkkaE900_OKGiD-KeYS_I0nempZdwvspaBpuD2EMz7_ZvYgqWmAtOhwSmCfT1-PjO9-JevWaemLLvTzpmpXr3InV-ZYHd_yUcDTdBGLz3o-0_-VzmC63sxBSbiG/s1600/ruby%2526dierdre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o9IlHQjiSP72j_SmsBkkaE900_OKGiD-KeYS_I0nempZdwvspaBpuD2EMz7_ZvYgqWmAtOhwSmCfT1-PjO9-JevWaemLLvTzpmpXr3InV-ZYHd_yUcDTdBGLz3o-0_-VzmC63sxBSbiG/s400/ruby%2526dierdre.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Ruby and Deidre</b> by Robb Grindstaff: A shorter than average man admires a taller than average woman from afar.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImYVBBdng-Ye7JHonsDiTd5F7NeWBpxDRwbmDJMFBNLINdLio4S_19LBgR5ocYiBE_jxAdKyS1_YKIHR3W4VjgGsQd_Tk7wNSOzQY2jP5i7PdXUte-LPWuIfdzvCZXY7dv16Dl6EU7zpb/s1600/devils.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImYVBBdng-Ye7JHonsDiTd5F7NeWBpxDRwbmDJMFBNLINdLio4S_19LBgR5ocYiBE_jxAdKyS1_YKIHR3W4VjgGsQd_Tk7wNSOzQY2jP5i7PdXUte-LPWuIfdzvCZXY7dv16Dl6EU7zpb/s400/devils.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>All The Devils</b> by Keira Michelle Telford: It’s 1889, and women are being killed in the East End of London. They’ve become the targets of a deranged sexual killer, but why? Because they’re prostitutes? Sapphists? Or something else entirely?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Ruby</b> By Bob Williams: It’s nineteen thirty-six and the town of Ransom, Oklahoma is barely functioning after the “Dust Bowl” storm of the year before. Michael Wootten sits upon the porch of his dilapidated house and watches a caravan of trucks pull into town. Melvin Mitchell Presents: Ruby and her Amazing FreakShow Friends. Maybe this is just the thing to pump a little spirit into the near-dead town. But everything comes at a price, and Ms. Ruby always takes her cut.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_AYGHBOnzAi8Ru75wa58VHAGlAuLXbBL3RmQFIUkGvZhPGd2BBTB-0MLOFwVeXvjAhMRj6TQNEvszu6dkYJVqQb9wE9y2Ub2IAouqJYUDwk0d7slKSXuNBjV6ojgsYGkZOivqNZURp_P/s1600/phantompain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_AYGHBOnzAi8Ru75wa58VHAGlAuLXbBL3RmQFIUkGvZhPGd2BBTB-0MLOFwVeXvjAhMRj6TQNEvszu6dkYJVqQb9wE9y2Ub2IAouqJYUDwk0d7slKSXuNBjV6ojgsYGkZOivqNZURp_P/s400/phantompain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Phantom Pain</b> By Philip Harris: Phantom Pain follows amputee, Mariana Jacobs, as she visits a man who claims to have information she needs. But that information comes at a cost.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Daedalus’ Daughter</b> By PK Tyler: After her father’s death, Isha begins sprouting feathers.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixIZ3v1yII2PF2Q_C3qry9rN0qKea3Zd0iEwapAsCVrLqdjFuNlUWS9AvqIEctPY0ZLKpNPUqnC-bg3-5h3wGr-UsG_iESWB20_pa2AJ-CJ5hNtUBokuB5XFul-Xg9N_B4ZYAXJkeRhjGJ/s1600/zealot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixIZ3v1yII2PF2Q_C3qry9rN0qKea3Zd0iEwapAsCVrLqdjFuNlUWS9AvqIEctPY0ZLKpNPUqnC-bg3-5h3wGr-UsG_iESWB20_pa2AJ-CJ5hNtUBokuB5XFul-Xg9N_B4ZYAXJkeRhjGJ/s400/zealot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Zealot</b> By Chris Godsoe: Six months ago, Tobin Maldovan was in charge of a manhunt for an enigmatic hacker named ATLAS. He lost his man near the Canadian border after a high speed chase, but not before ATLAS pulled strings to transfer the woman he Tobin loves across the country, hampering any chance at reconciliation. With ATLAS having escaped his jurisdiction, Tobin had nothing left but to follow his wife to California, seeking reassignment at the West Coast cyberterrorism field office. His reputation preceeds him, and he has drawn the case pursuing a man the media has taken to calling “The Zealot.” As usual, Tobin pours himself into his work, but the work becomes personal in ways that he never would have imagined.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Made for This</b> By Sessha Batto: On the heels of unimaginable loss comes reinvention. Sometimes the gain is worth going through hell.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre3lglV7fZPJFjFqqi_ywV15l2ealysMMyzv9VfB5uZvAImQCqTazM2w439bY4Doltw2vCSK_vHk2lezSmxHVQqHDStMoNtcGTcc7qMiZaIYR_EGxHPR3hmDabijMrUlXYmjKAX3gr6ls/s1600/unbreakableheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre3lglV7fZPJFjFqqi_ywV15l2ealysMMyzv9VfB5uZvAImQCqTazM2w439bY4Doltw2vCSK_vHk2lezSmxHVQqHDStMoNtcGTcc7qMiZaIYR_EGxHPR3hmDabijMrUlXYmjKAX3gr6ls/s400/unbreakableheart.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Unbreakable Heart</b> By Rebecca Poole: A cyborg must escape her creators in order to survive.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Saltwater Assassin</b> By Samantha Warren: Syren has spent her life as a sideshow freak, caged in a tank of saltwater and gawked at by hundreds of normal humans. She has a secret, though. At night, when the lights are finally off and the fair goers leave, she turns into a human–a mermaid assassin.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Well-Rounded Head</b> By Sally Basmajian: A woman is smitten with her husband’s big, entirely round head. One day she notices that his temples appear to be slightly indented, so that his head is no longer a perfect sphere. This revolts her, and she moves into their guest room in order to avoid him. When he breaks in, she kills him, in a most bizarre way.</span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-66867077491249089582015-10-13T03:53:00.002-07:002015-10-13T03:53:46.714-07:00UnCommon Bodies - welcome to the freakshow<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know, I know - I have been conspicuously absent. In all honesty, I have no good excuse, just the usual demands of keeping up with my cross-country commute and juggling the schedules of four adults (well...three, I have no schedule apart from theirs). On the up side, I did finish a short, and rewriting is underway on two novels so I haven't been totally lazy.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, however, I want to talk about the short I finished for an upcoming anthology called UnCommon Bodies. Just take a look at this awesome cover!!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSgEJ_XVNsnp9XsIbNIyygpvGrHAjNvI58ArJG28rlJgajT0oAZFt590mMq85uvP5U02c2ciF_8p4pYpdMwnoB6g42NNEDeUNQF0igqXf18MRR5TNz5ZzXXyrJ2Q4gPfmvNFQ1y63Plth/s1600/uncommon+bodies+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSgEJ_XVNsnp9XsIbNIyygpvGrHAjNvI58ArJG28rlJgajT0oAZFt590mMq85uvP5U02c2ciF_8p4pYpdMwnoB6g42NNEDeUNQF0igqXf18MRR5TNz5ZzXXyrJ2Q4gPfmvNFQ1y63Plth/s400/uncommon+bodies+cover.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span id="freeText14282506423978048076" style="color: #181818; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Step right up to the modern freakshow — We have mermaids, monsters, and more. You won't be disappointed, but you may not get out alive.<br /><br />UnCommon Bodies presents a collection of 21 beautifully irreverent stories which blend the surreal and the mundane. Together, the authors explore the lives of the odd, the unbelievable, and the impossible. Imagine a world where magic exists, where the physical form has the power to heal or repulse, where a deal with the devil means losing so much more than your soul.<br /><br />Includes<br /><em>Phantom Pain</em> by Philip Harris <br /><em>The Zealot</em> by Chris Godsoe<br /><em>Undead Cyborg Girl</em> by Kim Wells<br /><em>Made for This</em> by Sessha Batto<br /><em>Rudy and Deidre</em> by Robb Grindstaff<br /><em>Skin</em> by Brent Meske<br /><em>The Well-Rounded Head</em> by Sally Basmajian<br /><em>Mermaids</em> by Robert Pope<br /><em>All the Devils</em> by Keira Michelle Telford<br /><em>Scars: The First Session</em> by Jordanne Fuller<br /><em>We is We</em> by Michael Harris Cohen<br /><em>Poetry</em> by Deanne Charlton<br /><em>Reserved</em> by SM Johnson<br /><em>Ruby</em> by Bob Williams<br /><em>Daedalus' Daughter</em> by PK Tyler<br /><em>Don't Touch Me</em> by Bey Deckard <br /><em>In Her Image</em> by Vasil Tuchkov<br /><em>UnTamed</em> by Laxmi Hariharan<br /><em>Untitled</em> by Daniel Smith<br /><em>Saltwater Assassin</em> by Samantha Warren<br /><em>Unbreakable Heart</em> by Rebecca Poole</span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.32px;">And here is a peek at the promo image for my piece - Made for This </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This anthology is scheduled to be released 11/24 - but for you, my lovely readers, I am offering a special chance to get the first peek at what is inside. I am looking for ten lucky people to receive arc copies for review. If you are interested, email me or leave me a comment. If you aren't up to reading and reviewing the entire thing...I can send you just my story (which is very short, you know me).</span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701145156287072304.post-52481173024775955902015-08-26T07:33:00.000-07:002015-08-26T07:33:44.957-07:00Update<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been more absent than present on social media lately...for a good reason - I have finally dug in and started writing (well, rewriting). So, a short update on what has been happening...</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ripples, the last book in the Shinobi Saga, is getting back on track. I lost steam on this when my alpha reader and dear friend Anzia passed away last year. I had a hard time focusing on a project that she had been such an enthusiastic cheerleader for. But, finally, the pressure to finish Yoshi's story burst to the forefront. The rewrite is about 50% complete, and I am hoping to get it to my editor sometime in early September.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another project which has been languishing is The Shamisen Player (formerly The Trick). Every time I sat down to work on rewrites I found myself stalled...and then it came to me. I flipped the focus from one main character to the other (hence the title and cover change). It made all the difference. I am now powering along, and have just passed the 25% mark. This, too, should make it to the editor near the end of September. And then I will finally have a couple of new releases and, hopefully, the impetus I need to dig into the the works in progress cluttering my hard drive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, just an FYI - I will be at the Baltimore Book Festival Saturday and Sunday, the 26th and 27th of September. If you are in the area stop by and say hi, I would love to meet any and all of you live and in person.</span></div>
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Sessha Battohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15569927397738788073noreply@blogger.com0