Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Mommy Could Be Heard, Screaming!

Hello All:
Don't worry; I'm still here. I know there haven't been any updates in over a week. This is due to the work that I've been doing on the blog. If you click over to the "Books" page and select one of the Mapleview series novels, you will discover that these books can now be read on the blog. Go ahead; venture over and select--maybe--The Death Mask. Notice how you are taken to another blog that is associated with The Literary World of Tom Raimbault? Look on the right-hand side, and the individual chapters can be selected. This has been done for The Death Mask, The Tree Goddess, and Sex Magick.
Of course creating blogs for these books require that I have tweets for each chapter. I've spent a few days doing this as well. There are now some hundred or more tweets that will be added to collection throughout the week. I laugh at the awful tweets that are created for the Mapleview series chapters. Here's one of them:
"Mommy could be heard from the family room, making bloodcurdling screams." I'm sure thousands of people would be interested in checking that one out.
Why did I do all of this?
I don't want to have to depend on book publishers to get my material out there. Aside from that, The Literary World of Tom Raimbault needs an overhaul. I'm not liking the way things are laid out. I visited the "Short Stories" page and said to myself, "This is where readers can access my short stories?" It's no good! I need everything up there. If a reader wants to check out the Cableman series, the Black Leather Gloved Hands Mystery series, the (all new) Dana Gets Abducted by Aliens series, etc; it should be easily accessed. This will be available in the near future.
Today's featured writing is from the tweet, above. After reading this chapter, you might be so inclined as to read the entire book, The Tree Goddess. In the meantime, I need to write another installment of our Dana Gets Abducted by Aliens series. I will write of her second abduction and have it ready for you by Friday.
Mommy Could be Heard, Screaming! 
"Mommy, can I sleep with you tonight?" "No I'm sorry, Honey. You're a big boy now, and old enough to sleep by yourself." Stephanie tucked her youngest child, Sean, into bed on a crisp night in October. Although he posed many arguments and negotiations to stay up longer or sleep in Mommy's bed, Stephanie was firm with the child. His older brother wasn't staying up late or sleeping with Mommy. The same treatment should have been given to Sean. Besides that; once the children were tucked into bed for the night, Stephanie enjoyed her quiet time with a nice cup of hot cocoa.
Continue reading...

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Dana's First Alien Abduction

Hello All:
We start the week off with what may very well be a new series of short stories. I'm not sure how far I can take this series. Originally, I wished to simply write a quick work of fiction for you to enjoy. But the plot has grown and grown. Maybe in about three to five stories I'll have everything completed. For today, here is story one.
Dana looks like ordinary suburban housewife. But she also looks like one of those women who are regularly abducted by aliens. You've seen them, I'm sure.
As a young girl on vacation in the north woods of Michigan with her parents, Dana was abducted by extra terrestrials for the first time. It was a night she would never forget.
Dana's First Alien Abduction
She looks like an ordinary suburban housewife. To the onlooker, Dana lives the typical life of seeing the husband and kids off to work and school on weekday mornings, followed by her various duties throughout the day. In the early afternoon she welcomes her children home, and then greets her husband a couple hours later with dinner on the table. On weekends she shops at the grocery store. Sometimes she enjoys special outings with her husband and kids, or even family gatherings. Then Monday returns to offer Dana the same schedule as last week.
On the surface, there doesn't seem to be anything particularly out-of-the-ordinary with Dana's life. And that's how she wants it. You see; Dana has been hiding a dark secret for most of her life. She's never told a soul out of fear that people would label her as crazy, or one of those pathetic people who make up bizarre stories for attention. It's a terrible secret that began as a girl, shortly after Dana graduated eighth grade.
It was the summer break before beginning high school. Mother and Father took Dana and her two siblings on vacation to an isolated cottage in north Michigan. There the family enjoyed plenty of swimming in the pristine lake, boating and fishing, and various recreational activities in neighboring towns. At nightfall, Dana and her siblings usually watched the stars in the sky and marveled at how many there were. The night sky did not look like that back home!
They did this one early evening, after spending the entire day swimming in the lake. Just like for most people who spend their lives with light pollution, the sight of the Milky Way was spectacular and breathtaking. 
Suddenly, Dana's little brother, Joey, saw something interesting in a different area of the sky. "What's that?" he asked while pointing towards it.
"What?" asked Dana.
"Over there." continued to point little Joey. "See that blinking light in the sky?"
"Oh yeah! I see it!" chimed in Dana's younger sister, Lisa. "It's weird. It's like a space ship or some kind of UFO."
That's when Dana finally saw it: a tiny, green light in the sky that flashed a specific pattern. It disturbed Dana because she recognized the flashes—made sense. It was as-if the object in the sky generated a secret code just for her!
Initially, Dana wasn't sure what to think. She had heard of strange lights in the sky that were actually space ships from other planets with inhuman beings that flew them. These spaceships often landed in remote locations where people were alone—places like the woods of north Michigan. Unable to run for help, isolated people were abducted and subjected to all sorts of horrific tests. Dana did not want to fall victim to this.
"Guys I'm getting cold." she announced. "Let's go inside." Dana didn't want to suggest to her younger siblings that the light in the sky might have been extra terrestrial beings. But the more she thought of it, the more she realized that whoever maneuvered that flashing light in the sky was aiming to abduct her that moment.
"No!" cried out little Joey. "Can’t we stay outside a bit longer?"
"Yeah!" chimed in Lisa. "How often do we get to see this back at home?”
“No, come-on!” answered Dana. “I'm getting cold, and want to go in."
"Awe..." complained little Joey.
Lisa slowly trailed behind.
Dana attempted to coax her younger siblings with the suggestion of treats back in the cottage. "We still have those ice cream bars in the freezer. I sure have a taste for one, don't you?" As Dana turned around, she quickly glanced up at the sky and could see the blinking green light. They were watching her from thousands of feet up in the air!
As Lisa and Joey trailed behind their older sister, they continued to argue and insist that there was no reason to go inside. "But if you're so cold, why do you want an ice cream bar?" challenged little Joey.
"Dana, are you afraid of that blinking light in the sky?" suggested Lisa.
"No!" answered Dana. "Guys I'm not afraid of anything. I'm just cold and want to go in for a snack. I'm hungry." Dana demonstrated that she was not fearful of the blinking light in the sky by looking up and waving her arms towards it. "See, I'm not afraid." She called out to the object, "Here I am! Come get me!"
Suddenly; the tiny, green light grew in diameter which suggested that it was coming closer. As it did this, it blinked faster. It was as-if the blinking, green light in the sky had answered Dana’s signal.
All three children noticed this. The response from whatever object that blinked in the sky was a too ironic. It was then that Dana, Lisa and Joey were hit with a wave of terror and ran back to the cottage, crying.
Once finally making it inside, Father nearly leapt up from the sofa."What happened?" he shouted. It was difficult not to assume something wrong upon observing three children rush into the house while sniffling with tears.
"There's something in the sky!"
"There's a light in the sky that's blinking!"
"It's blinking and coming closer after I waved at it!"
Father sat back down. "Alright, calm down kids. It sounds like maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Now there are a lot of satellites out in space, and that's probably what you saw. The sky is different, here, in Michigan. You don't see stuff like that back in home."
Curious, Mother stepped outside while encouraging her children to join them. She stood on the porch and asked, "Where's the light?"
Unfortunately; the green, blinking light was gone.
Late that night as the family slept soundly in their beds, Dana had been awakened by a series of strange dreams. She and Lisa slept in one of the cottage bedrooms that had twin beds on opposite sides of the room. Little Joey slept in an inflatable mattress on the floor in Mother and Father's bedroom.
The bedroom where Dana slept was now submerged in total darkness. Not even the nightlight from the bathroom out in the hallway could be seen. It was so dark in that moment that Dana couldn't even see her hand out in front of her face.
Earlier that year for her birthday, Dana had received a wristwatch as a gift. It was a simple analog style watch with second hand that ticked. It wasn't the wind-up sort of watch. Rather, it operated on battery. What's more; it had a background light which glowed upon pressing a button. Curious of the time, Dana pressed the light button with the watch out in front of her. The hands on the watch read just a dot passed quarter-to-midnight. But then she noticed something peculiar. Originally moving once the watch had been illuminated, the second hand suddenly stopped!
Dana tapped the watch in hopes that the second hand would come back to life. But it remained motionless at the eleven seconds position.
Was it the blinking, green light that had been seen the sky earlier that evening. Dana heard of the phenomenon in which UFOs have an ability to affect technology—render automobiles, radios or even wristwatches inoperable. Were they outside the cottage and preventing the second hand on Dana's wristwatch from ticking?
Dana took a deep breath while releasing the light button on her watch. The room was, once again, in total darkness. Fighting the thoughts of something possibly being outside, Dana tried to believe Father's explanation from earlier that night of a satellite in the sky.
It was terribly silent in the room. Dana raised the wristwatch to her ear and listened for the tick of the second hand. But the watch was dead. She wished so badly to at least hear her sister breathing in her sleep. But there wasn't a sound. Only the deafening ring of blood rushing through Dana's ears could be heard in that moment. Any louder, she feared being unable to hear what was outside.
It was as-if Dana had suddenly been transported into another reality framework in which time had been suspended, and her family was now frozen in a deep sleep. Something was happening to Dana. The world was not behaving normally. And then came the eerie sensation of feeling infinitesimally small.
Dana began to cry. She broke the silence by allowing her voice to softly cry out with the tears. Then, suddenly, the entire bedroom had been flooded with a green light that came from outside and through the window. Instinctively, Dana began to sob out of terror. But her voice had been squelched by some mysterious force. Was it the terror that robbed her of air which made it impossible to scream, or did the beings outside her bedroom window have the ability to paralyze Dana's vocal cords?
Throughout her entire life, the only item which Dana had seen of the beings was a silver-gloved hand. She never dared to look at them out of sheer terror. And it was the silver-gloved hand which reached through the cottage’s bedroom window that night that caused Dana to close her eyes and silently cry. She knew they were coming in by the dozen. In less than five seconds they somehow materialized and flew through the green light which beamed through the bedroom window. In less than five seconds, a dozen beings from out of this world all stood around Dana's bed.
Eyes tightly shut; Dana silently screamed with her voice squelched by the mysterious force. Her blankets and bed sheet had been levitated off. Soon, Dana floated upwards and through the green light; through the bedroom window with a dozen beings from out of this world. They guided Dana onto the ship.
From that point, a sense of normal reality had been restored. Dana and the beings no longer floated as feet touched the floor, and the effects of gravity could be felt. But just to ensure that Dana remained where they wanted her, a group of hands held her in place.
A low humming sound increased in pitch as Dana felt as-if she were riding an elevator. She concluded that whatever spaceship had landed near the cottage had now lifted off the ground and into the sky. It was then that Dana realized that she had been abducted in the dead of night from the safety of her bed; brought on board an extra terrestrial spaceship which now flew off—perhaps—thousands of feet above ground where no one could help her.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Dana kept her eyes tightly closed. She did not want to see what the beings looked like. They were probably hideous with aggressive facial expressions. But she was quite aware of what occurred throughout the entire abduction. Dana was escorted over to some sort metallic wall that stood at the center of what she imagined to be the examination room. From there, a half dozen pair of hands cooperated in stripping Dana of all her sleepwear. Everything was taken off; pajama bottoms, t-shirt and undergarments.
For a girl that age, nudity in front of anyone—Earth people or extra terrestrial beings—was uncomfortable; almost psychologically traumatic. But the beings didn't care. They needed to inspect the Earth person. Hands and fingers touched various regions of Dana's body. They beings seemed most interested in Dana's private area. What could they have possibly wanted with that?
Throughout the investigation, Dana could somehow sense the telepathic communication from the creatures. They didn't speak directly to her. But she was aware of their discussions. Through "telepathic listening" Dana learned that she had a special feature on her body that the beings required. Not all Earth people had this anomalous condition. Dana was a special case. But she was still too young to activate. Perhaps in five to ten years she would be ready. The beings were disappointed, but kept reminding themselves to be patient.
The sensation of riding an elevator downwards was soon felt. Dana assumed that the ship was returning to Earth. While this happened, the beings cooperated in re-dressing their abductee. They seemed to be experts at stripping and re-dressing Earth people. How many other victims had they done this to?
The ship touched down—assumingly near the cottage where Mother, Father, and siblings slept. The eerie sensation of feeling infinitesimally small returned, followed by no longer being under the influence of gravity. The crew which escorted Dana onto the ship now floated and guided her back through the bedroom window and into her bed. Once the covers were laid over Dana, the presence of the beings was suddenly gone. Did they leave?
Dana was too frightened to open her eyes. She left them shut for nearly five minutes while gauging the surroundings of the bedroom. All that could be heard was the sound of blood rushing her ears.
As a test, Dana raised the wrist watch to her ears and could hear the second hand ticking. This was reassurance that the ordeal had ended. She opened her eyes and pressed the light button. The hands on the clock read 12:15 am as the second hand now ticked its way towards the 57 second mark. Dana concluded that whatever happened to her had only occurred in thirty minutes.
An alarming thing noticed for the weeks that followed; Dana had missed her period for that month. Of course she attributed it to the alien abduction, and feared that she had been impregnated. But there was nothing invasive throughout the ordeal.
By the following month her menstrual cycle returned to normal.

To be continued…

Friday, May 15, 2015

The Black Leather Gloved Hands Mystery Series--story nine

Hello All:
50 Shades of Grey; a sizzling, erotic romance that has surely triggered countless womens' sexual desires upon reading it. It has plenty of sex... plenty of graphic sex. And it isn't just sex that makes 50 Shades of Grey so wonderful. It's also a romance.
Or is it really?
I'm sure by now you have seen the poster circulating throughout social media. It calls to mind that the only reason why 50 Shades of Grey is such a wonderful erotic romance is because the main character, Christian Grey, is a billionaire. If he were an average guy, he would just be another creep who forces and traps a young woman into the lifestyle of bondage and sadomasochism. It reinforces a point that I had made in one of my earlier Mapleview novels: It isn't good looks, muscles and charming personality that women seek in men. Rather, it's the scent of crisp $100 bills in his wallet. Printed images of Benjamin Franklin are what puts the silk on a woman's panties.
Today's featured writing is another installment of our Black Leather Gloved Hands Mystery Series. If you've been following this series of stories, then you know the horrible things that the serial rapist has been doing to housewife, Krystal. I'm sure by now, you've come to hate him.
But there's a little catch 22. You're going to learn some things about the serial rapist in today's story. His ski mask and leather gloves will finally be removed. By the end of the story, you will come to fall in love with the serial rapist, and see him as the hero in Krystal's life.
Have a great weekend! Never judge a person simply because he wears a ski mask and black leather gloves.
The Black Leather Gloved Hands Mystery Series--story nine
Cruising across the Pacific Ocean, some 50 miles off land in a five seat turbine helicopter, Krystal flew to an undisclosed location; an oversized luxury beach house that sat on a private island. She was en route to her therapist’s home. Krystal would have never been able to reach the private island by car ride, of course. Aside from that, the island is exclusively owned by Dr. Trevor Lierisle—Krystal's therapist. The island, itself, is its own nation; complete with small army to protect it, and ruled by Dr. Trevor Lierisle. You see; Dr. Trevor Lierisle is incredibly wealthy. As one of the world's most successful psychiatrists, he's earned a place in Fortune 500's wealthiest people. Due to the remote island's impossibility to reach, Dr. Trevor Lierisle had his private helicopter pilot pick Krystal up, and race back to his home. The pilot now had the engine running at high throttle so that they flew at speeds nearing 121 knots. That's almost 140 MPH!
Time was running out for Krystal and her therapist who preferred to be simply called, Trevor. Krystal’s husband, George, remained in jail without release, due to this being his third arrest in the past couple of weeks. This time he was brought in for beating his coworker bloody in the restroom. Today was the only day that Trevor had free for therapy. You see; for the time being, George could not know of Krystal's private sessions of therapy.
As the helicopter raced across the ocean and neared Trevor's home, Krystal began to feel a wave of anxiety. It was probably brought on by the previous encounters in which Trevor had brutally raped her. It was part of the therapy. But she had nothing to worry about this time. Krystal was merely having a one-on-one discussion with her therapist and then having lunch.
Soon the helicopter neared the shore, and the oversized luxury beach house could be seen. Trevor exited the main entrance of the home and, and stood outside near the helicopter landing pad. Within a few minutes, the helicopter touched ground and Krystal emerged in a pair of tight, denim shorts which revealed the shape and curve of her perky ass. She wore a matching white spaghetti strap blouse to top the ensemble.
Krystal nervously smiled and cautiously approached Trevor who calmly stood there in a pair of jeans and an un-tucked long-sleeved button-down shirt—dressed for comfort. When Krystal was finally near, he delicately took hold of both hands and pulled her arms out. "You look beautiful!" he exclaimed.
"Thank you!" answered Krystal with a smile. What woman wouldn't want to be complimented by a handsome, wealthy man?
"Let's go back in the house for a couple of cocktails and discuss things before having lunch." invited Trevor. He held Krystal's hand and escorted her inside; led her to a giant, lavishly-decorated living room that overlooked the beach and ocean. Krystal was invited to sit down in a comfortable, leather chair.
"You can have anything you want to drink." offered Trevor.
"A margarita would be good." answered Krystal.
Trevor looked over to a man sating in a nearby chair who was dressed in three-piece suit."Get us two margaritas."
With that, the man opened a business pad and apparently messaged a nearby bartender to bring two margaritas.
"That's my assistant, Hugh." explained Trevor to Krystal. "Pay no mind to him. He takes care of my personal business for me. He is ordered to disregard any discussions that he might hear with clients during therapy."
As Trevor sat down in leather sofa across from Krystal, a bartender appeared with two margaritas on a tray. One was given to Krystal; the other given to Trevor.
Trevor took a sip and then began, "Lunch should be ready in about forty-five minutes. We're having steak and lobster. For now, let's talk about your husband."
Krystal took a sip from her margarita and gazed out at the ocean waves. "They're just not letting him out of jail this time." she reported. "And he did, for sure, lose his job."
"Well of course." answered Trevor. "That was a very, bad thing for your husband to do. I logged into the network and checked the hospital record of husband's coworker. He just pulled out of the coma this morning. He's got a long road to recovery. Doctors believe that he may have permanent brain damage."
Krystal sighed and shook her head in disbelief. "There's something truly wrong with that man. He's so violent, and needs to prove to everyone that he's strong and aggressive. That's what I hate about him. That's why I'm so close to ending my marriage."
"Well, maybe he's learned his lesson this time." suggested Trevor.
"I don't know..." answered Krystal. "He's just always been that way. He's always had me living in fear; yelling at me and the kids and threatening us."
"But Krystal, don't you feel like you have a better control on your husband, now? Look how we're causing him to fall apart? He's injured—thanks to his own stupidity—and on medication to slow down his heart and lower blood pressure. What's more, he's in jail. It'll only be a matter of time before his brain snaps. Then we can work on fixing him and making him normal."
"I suppose..." answered Krystal.
"Well I do have some good news for you." informed Trevor.
"You do?"
"Yes, I established some connections with people at the police department. I will be able to get him released, as well as have most of the charges dropped. Would you like that?"
"Well he needs to get out sometime." answered Krystal. "And what about a new job?"
"I can get him another job." reassured Trevor. "Just let him wait a couple of weeks and look for one. We need him to suffer. We need him to understand that there are consequences to his actions. As for jail, I can get him out this afternoon."
"Okay..." agreed Krystal.
All of this might sound unreal to most people. But for a wealthy man who is literally his own country with army to protect him; anything is possible. Money always talks when enough is offered. That's one thing Trevor has learned throughout his career.
For the next half hour, Krystal continued to discuss her miserable marriage life. The discussion was ended when the cook entered the living room and announced, "Lunch is ready. You can head over to the dining room when you feel hungry."
Trevor asked the cook, "Could you escort my guest to the dining room? I'll join her shortly. I just need to make a call."
Krystal was escorted out of the living room.
When finally alone, Trevor made a call. "Hi, yes, this is Dr. Trevor Lierisle. I think we're ready to have him released..."
As Trevor spoke on the phone; the assistant, Hugh, opened an electronic accounts payable / accounts receivable ledger to make updates. You see, just about every phone call or meeting of Trevor's involves the transfer of hundreds of thousands—sometimes millions—of dollars. Trevor had been in communication with the police station where George was being incarcerated. Plenty of money had been transferred in the past few days.
"I trust you received your money?" asked Trevor on the phone. "More...? How much more...? I think we can do that..." Trevor looked up to Hugh, "One million dollars to the police." Then he spoke back into the phone, "Now this is what I want... You are to release him at 4:00 this afternoon. He gets a police car ride home... No, I do not want him fed... I don't care if he hasn't eaten since Wednesday [it was now Friday at noon]. Can you do those things for me...? Okay, you should see the money wired into your account, shortly." The call ended.
As the assistant, Hugh, stood up to accompany Trevor to the dining room, he spoke up and asked, "No food for your friend in jail? How come?"
It's part of therapy my dear Hugh. Fasting and starvation can affect the mind. It can turn one delirious. By the time he returns home this afternoon from jail, I want him nearly insane.
Krystal finished lunch with her therapist—steak and lobster with Pinot Grigio wine. Upon finishing desert, Devil's chocolate cake, Trevor suggested, "I have my yacht about a mile out to sea. To save time, what do you say we take a helicopter ride out there and spend some time, alone?"
"Sure..." agreed Krystal.
With that, both Trevor and Krystal boarded the five seat turbine helicopter. The pilot lifted off and traveled a mile out to sea where Trevor's large yacht was located. When finally near, Trevor explained, "The helicopter can't land on the deck. We simply lower this ladder rope, and climb down. You can do that, right?"
Krystal is afraid of heights. Although only a climb of ten feet down, it was still frightening for Krystal.
"I'll go first." suggested Trevor. "Then I'll stand below to help you down."
"Okay..." agreed Krystal.
With Trevor finally ten feet below, Krystal carefully climbed out. Step by step with plenty of hesitating in between, she descended the rope ladder until being safely received in Trevor's arms. He supported her the moment her thighs were reachable; placed his hands on their sides and let Krystal's delicate skin glide across his palms. Krystal's ass covered in denim shorts were easy to hold onto as she made her final steps onto the yacht's deck.
As the helicopter lifted off and head back to the island, Krystal realized that she was beginning to have feelings for Trevor. Why wouldn't she? Not only was Trevor handsome; not only was he one of the world's wealthiest men who owned a small country, complete with army to protect it; but he was also a kind-hearted gentleman who seemed to understand Krystal's feelings.
"I like to come out here at night, sometimes." said Trevor. "The stars are amazing when out at sea."
"I bet!" agreed Krystal.
"But you know what else is amazing?" asked Trevor.
"You!" answered Trevor.
Krystal's heart fluttered as she blushed. "Oh, come-on; you probably say that to all the girls."
"No, it’s true." urged Trevor. "I realize that I'm starting to get feelings for you. I'm not supposed to have feelings for clients, but I can't help it when it comes to you."
Krystal nearly melted upon hearing this. She could only smile in return.
"You're so pretty." declared Trevor. Then he reached in for a kiss.
Soon the two embraced one another and made out for nearly ten minutes. With his fingers, Trevor pulled down both the spaghetti straps of Krystal's blouse while wishing he could pull it down further. His hands explored every inch that he could of Krystal's body. To explore more, he escorted Krystal into the yacht where she was quickly laid down on a sofa.
Of course Trevor had stripped, touched and fucked Krystal before. But he did this as a brutal serial rapist who wore a ski mask and black-leather gloves. But now he gently removed Krystal's blouse, denim shorts, panties and bra; and was sure to adoringly kiss every inch of her beautiful, naked body. That sensual hour at sea with Trevor gave Krystal plenty to think about during the helicopter ride back to her home town. It was the best love that she had received in many years. And George was never that good in bed.
At 4:15pm, a police car thudded over the curb of George and Krystal's driveway. In the back seat, George waited for the door to be open so he could finally get out and have freedom. He had been through a terrible ordeal since Tuesday; locked in the same cell with no food, fresh water, or contact with the outside world. Weak from starvation and near dehydration, he staggered up to the front door and repeatedly rang the bell. He expected Krystal to immediately open the door.
"Come-on! What the fuck? Open the fucking door!" shouted George while ringing the bell some more. He looked behind him and could see that the police car had driven off.
"This is bullshit!" declared George while removing the keys from his front pocket. With shaky hands, he fumbled for the house key and let himself in. "Hello? Hello? Krystal, where are you?"
In desperation, George found his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. For the past couple of days he had been drinking the nasty sink water from the jail cell.
George next picked up the phone and called his wife's cell phone. By now, Krystal was driving home after being dropped off from the helicopter ride.
"Hello?" answered Krystal.
"Where the fuck are you?" asked George.
"Your home?" asked Krystal.
"Fucking right I'm home! Now where the fuck are you?"
"I went to the store to get food for dinner. I wasn't expecting you to be home today. How did you get home?"
"The cops brought me home. And you never bothered to contact the attorney?" complained George.
"I did, but he said that the police wouldn't let him go to see you." explained Krystal.
"That's bullshit!" snapped George. "You get your ass home and make dinner! I'll deal with you when I see you."
Now frantic, Krystal needed to forget about her romantic afternoon with Trevor. George was home, and expecting dinner. She lied to him and said that she was returning from the store. But what did she get?
At that moment, Krystal approached and Aldi grocery store. She quickly pulled into the parking lot, and dashed into the store for a couple of Mama Cozzi's fire baked pepperoni pizza. She wasn't going to eat much for dinner, anyway. She was still full from the steak, lobster and chocolate cake lunch.
Fifteen minutes later, she scurried through door of the house to hear George arguing on the phone.
"That's bullshit!" he shouted. "Why the fuck would the police not allow you to come see me? Don't I have the right to an attorney..? Something political...? What are you talking about...? That's a crock of shit!" With that, George ended the call.
Then he looked over to Krystal, "And you! What the fuck have you been doing these past few days while I was locked up?"
"I've been trying to get you out, George." she answered.
With aggressive and threatening posture George walked over to Krystal as-if she needed a beating. "Trying to get me out? How have you been trying to get me out? I've been locked up since Tuesday. It's now Friday. The only I answer I have from you and the attorney is that I wasn't allowed any visitors."
"I'm sorry, George!" cried Krystal. "There wasn't much I could do."
"What do you have to eat?" asked George. "They haven't fed me since Wednesday. I'm literally starving. You said you went to the store. So what do you have?"
Krystal walked over to the kitchen counter where she placed the pizzas upon walking through the door. Nervously, she held them up."
"Frozen pizza?" asked George. He began breathing in and out like a bull that was about to charge. "I've been locked up in jail since Tuesday; haven't eaten since Wednesday; and the only thing you have for me to eat is frozen pizza."
"George, I'm sorry. I wasn’t expecting..."

"WHAT THE FUCK????" screamed George while blasting his mighty and already injured fist through the kitchen drywall.
To be continued...

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Magick Butterfly Panties

Hello All:
No summertime yard is complete, in my opinion, without visits from bumble bees, butterflies and hummingbirds. One sure way to attract these is to plant milkweed in your backyard. Butterflies, especially, love milkweed because of the copious nectar that it produces. You can visit your local home improvement store such as Home Depot where butterfly milkweed can be purchased. But why not stock up on birdseed and hummingbird feed as well? You'll love the visits from these wonderful creatures throughout the summer months.
Today's featured writing is a brand new short story that just so happens to be about butterflies.
Magick Butterfly Panties
It was one of those gorgeous, Saturday mornings with not a cloud in the sky, and orange sun inching its way over the roofs of neighboring houses. I had just finished my morning shower and stepped into a pair of jeans. But before continuing to dress, I scurried into the kitchen to make morning coffee. That's when it was realized I had run out coffee beans. But it was nothing to worry about. There was a fresh bag in the trunk of my car. I had picked it up on the ride home from work on Friday afternoon, and left it my car overnight. It would only be necessary to step outside for it.
It couldn't have been more than sixty five degrees that beautiful morning with a refreshing crispness in the air. Robins bobbed through the lawn in search of worms for breakfast. The neighbors' dogs scouted their backyard. It was a typical Saturday morning with nothing, initially, unusual to see.
But what was this??? Someone had left a pair of panties on the driveway near the driver side door of my car! They were black with countless fluttering butterflies printed on them. The panties appeared to be made of some silky material; very sexy that—perhaps—something a young woman would wear. But why were they left here?
I looked around to see if any of the neighbors watched—anyone from their yards, or even windows. Maybe it was a joke. Then again, maybe a mysterious woman with a fondness for me left them there to serve as a message.
Feeling it was safe; I quickly picked them up and stuffed then into the front pocket of my jeans before getting the bag of coffee. I was excited and intrigued, to say the least, to discover that a mysterious woman had left her panties near my car. 
Back in the house: Once the coffee brewer had been started, I carefully removed the delicate, butterfly print panties from my front pocket. I examined, fondled and groped as I wished. They certainly appeared to have been worn. Still curious, I did the most unexpected thing. I raised the panties to my face to take a whiff.
The welcomed scent of a female was drawn in. I could smell her sweat, her PH, and any female hormones which might have been deposited on the panties throughout (assumingly) yesterday. And maybe it was the print which suggested this; but while closing my eyes, I imagined a swam of butterflies hovering a prairie of wild flowers on a summer day. They busily fluttered about, landing on the various flowers to feed on nectar and pollen.
At this point I had become completed distracted from my regular Saturday morning activities. I was now increasingly absorbed by the fascination of those panties, along with the overwhelming fantasies that they had caused. I wandered into the hallway and towards the bedroom while continuing to breathe deeply the scent of those delicate, butterfly-print panties. By the time I reached the bedroom, I was rubbing them all over my neck and bare chest while imagining swarms of butterflies which fluttered and surrounded me. To me, the butterflies represented the mysterious woman’s spirit and energy.
The woman who wore those panties must have been incredible. I wished so badly to see her, touch her, kiss her and make love to her. Perhaps this is why I undid my jeans, and partly pulled them down along with my boxers. The panties were slowly brushed down my abdomen until they touched and glided over my ever stiffening erection.
Then something happened which I must admit was a bit frightening at first. As the panties were wrapped around my excited cock, a swarm of a dozen or more butterflies suddenly emerged from them. They tickled and further aroused me as they flew off. It was then that I realized these were no ordinary panties. These were magick butterfly panties!
I continued to delicately rub and polish my erection with the delicate panties as more and more butterflies emerged from them. They hovered in the air and all around me. Their thousands of wings created a great wind in the bedroom that brought with it the life, energy and smell of a summer prairie.
Soon there must have been a hundred thousand, or more, butterflies in my bedroom. To be honest, there would have been no way to count. And in that moment I wasn't the least bit interested in counting them. You see; they began to fly and hover in such a pattern that they were forming a life-sized silhouette of a person. As the butterflies further perfected their pattern, I could finally see the recognizable features of long hair, a female face, and a naked body complete with pretty breasts and even beckoning vagina with trimmed fur that was sculpted into the shape of a butterfly! These hundreds of thousands of winged creatures which emerged from the panties had manifested to me the very woman who wore them.
Physically kissing and touching her was impossible, however. I stood before her in an attempt to caress her shoulders and breasts while touching my lips to hers. These things, however, were merely manifested by hundreds of thousands of butterflies. It wasn't real human flesh. But upon closing my eyes and crossing into another place, I was able to touch with delight the naked body of this woman. I kissed her while tasting her very breath. I lifted her up off the ground by the ass, and then lay her down on the bed. I tasted the very place which the panties had covered; tasted it so deeply and adoringly that she squirmed on the bed and moaned while wrapping her legs around my neck and shoulders.
At the moment of climax, the hundreds of thousands of butterflies which formed the woman took off in every direction, and vanished so that all that remained was the empty bed before me. I still had the panties draped around my cock. Now alone, I assumed that the butterflies returned to the very woman who left the panties at my driveway. They flew off to deliver her my message.
In the kitchen, the coffee maker roared as the final remains of java brewed. Morning coffee was apparently ready. I would have plenty to think about while drinking it.

I still have the panties. I hope, some day, that the woman who owns them visits me in person. At the very least, I hope the butterflies return.

Monday, May 11, 2015

A Nice Dog

Hello All:
I've committed myself in the past week to writing the final book of the Amber trilogy. I hope this an acceptable excuse for not posting new short stories to the blog last week. You see; it's my goal to have House of Witches published by autumn of this year. But to be honest, I feared that I was going to have to break the news to my eager readers that it would take longer than expected. Mapleview novels (the actual series that the Amber trilogy belongs to) are complicated! In this particular book I've got witches, pixies, demons and all sorts of chaos reaching its hand from behind the veil. And it's all got to make sense to blend in with the plot.
But there just might be a light at the end of the tunnel! While planning out the upcoming chapters over the weekend, I realized that I may not have much longer to go. I might be finished by late summer, to begin the editing, and have it in your hands before Halloween of this year!
Again, I apologize for my absence last week. I was in fictional Mapleview and sorting through all the mayhem.
Today's featured writing is about a friendly German shepherd who might not be so friendly, after all.
A Nice Dog
It was a fine, mid-morning Saturday in spring; not a cloud in the sky; the sun shined brightly in the sky. Just like many Saturdays, children played throughout the neighborhood and often walked the streets from one friend's house to another. And on this gorgeous morning when windows were opened to allow the springtime breeze through, a blond German shepherd was let out into the backyard where he most-often enjoyed basking in the sun while watching birds; maybe chew a bone offered by the owners. There was something suggestively friendly of this German shepherd as he had some sort of Collie mix in him. From a distant, the dog looked as though he were smiling and inviting visits from strangers.
Outside of basking in the springtime air and reminding himself of how life was good, the dog had another favorite past time. He quickly stood up as his sensitive ears heard the sounds of 3 boys who nosily chattered some half-block away. Their footsteps which grew increasingly louder suggested that the children would soon pass in front of the house.
The dog assumed his post at the side of the house where a 4-foot chain-link fence yielded a clear shot of the front side walk. He sat on his hind legs and waited for the boys' approach.
Soon their bodies became visible as they passed the house two doors down; foot steps echoing along garages and patios. The German shepherd pulled his ears back, laid his tail flat on the ground and slightly lifted his head to show the mouth which resembled a friendly dog who smiled.
Just then, one of the boys spoke, "Hey; look at that really, nice dog!"
"Yeah; that's a cool dog!"
The German shepherd remained motionless, sitting with such well and proper form.
It was tempting for the boys to stop in front of the house and walk across the front lawn to where the dog waited at the fence. "Nice doggy! He's such a good dog!"
"That's right; I am a nice dog. But my owner keeps me locked inside of the house all day and night. They never pet me; and I'm just looking for a friend."
One of the boys spoke while the group carefully approached the fence. "Awe, see; he's a friendly dog. He just wants to play."
The German shepherd shifted his head looking left to right, only gazing at the boys from side of his face, never making direct eye contact. There was something misleading and untrustworthy about his voice, "Yes, come closer; I won't bite you."
Soon, all three boys had their faces close to the chain link fence. The dog instinctively showed his bottom teeth while looking up into the air.
"Look, the dog is smiling!"
"He's such a nice dog!"
The German shepherd remained seated on his hind legs, ears tilted back with tail completely flat on the ground. "Go ahead and pet me; it's safe. I'm a friendly dog."
Finally, one of the boys in his boldness reached his hand towards the fence. "I'm not afraid of this dog. I'll pet him."
And as his arm reached over to show affection, the friendly German shepherd turned ferocious as it growled and quickly snapped at the little boy's arm that was perhaps a hundredth of an inch from receiving a bite. All three children ran off in terror while the dog barked as if it couldn’t wait to get out and kill! It wasn't such a nice dog, after all!
Satisfied, the German shepherd strolled over to the patio door where it gazed in, seemingly asking for a bone. "See how well I protect your house from strangers? Don't you want to give me a treat?”

Friday, May 1, 2015

Why are Space Brothers so Tan?

Hello All:
Check out the amazing video footage of surfer, Koa Smith, riding his board through a long tube. I am sharing this video with you because a character in today's story surfs through such a tunnel. In case you've never heard of this activity, now you know.

Today's featured writing is a new Cableman story. We are treated to Orthon, the space brother, riding some killer waves.

Have a great weekend! And if it's nice in your neck of the woods, why not work on that tan?
Why are Space Brothers so Tan?
It was late at night as the Cableman slept soundly in bed. He dreamed that he was browsing the selections of cheap beer in the liquor aisle at the grocery store. Suddenly, Orthon the space brother appeared from around the corner. He was dressed in Earth clothes—didn't wear the silver jumpsuit with trademarked long space brother hair.
"Well look who it is!" announced Orthon upon seeing the Cableman. Fancy meeting you here."
"Oh, hi, Orthon." greeted the Cableman in return. "I wasn't expecting to see you in the beer aisle. Do you like beer?"
"No, I'm just looking for some mead." answered Orthon. "Do they have any here?"
"Umm... I don't know..." cautiously answered the Cableman. "There might be a bottle or two near the wine."
"Well haven't you switched to drinking mead since our last encounter?" asked Orthon.
"I've been meaning to." answered the Cableman. "But there's nothing like an ice, cold, refreshing beer after a hard day at work."
Orthon smiled. "I see. Well, I guess I feel the same way about mead." As Orthon continued to browse the liquor aisle, he asked the Cableman about his fitness progress. "So how have your workouts been going? Have you been taking it easy and practicing moderation with exercise?"
It had been two weeks since the Cableman passed out at the gym from running too hard. Recall that while unconscious, he dreamed of riding in a Saturanian scout ship with Orthon the space brother. In that time, Orthon urged that the Cableman be more sensible when it came to fitness.
"Actually, I have been going easy in the gym.” answered the Cableman. “I'm not lifting as much weight, and my joints are no longer in chronic pain. I still jog, but I pace myself. And last weekend I pulled out my old skateboard from the back of the closet, and went to the half pipe like I did years ago."
"Excellent!" congratulated Orthon. "I bet you feel like you have a new lease on life."
"I do." agreed the Cableman.
Orthon examined the Cableman and then remarked, "But I'm afraid you're not quite a space brother, yet."
The Cableman momentarily looked at the ground with a disappointed look. He truly believed that he had made some definite progress in the past year or so since initially meeting Melissa. Recall that she was the one who inducted, trained and knighted the Cableman into space brotherhood. But what was the Cableman missing that finally qualified him as a space brother?
It was as-if Orthon had read the Cableman's mind as he began to explain. "Sure... you've got your own flying saucer; you've hooked up with a local network of starseeds, space cadets and the likes; you have groovy lava lights and psychedelic effects in your apartment; and you smoke weed in a bong with Kenneth Arnold flying saucer print. But, you're not officially a space brother until you work on your skin."
"My skin?" asked the Cableman with a queer look.
"Yeah!" reinforced Orthon. "What's with the pasty, white skin? You look like you never get out to see the light of day. Are you some sort of vampire?"
The Cableman's jaw nearly dropped. How could Orthon make fun of him like that? The Cableman was the whitest man in America, and extremely sensitive to the sun. Sure he was a real outdoorsman, but he was always sure to wear sunscreen of 50 SPF or more. "I can't help it." explained the Cableman. "I've tried getting some sun and darkening my skin, but I just burn. Then it peels so that I have my white skin, again."
Orthon patted the Cableman on the back. "Well, my friend, it's time I let you in on a little secret. Did you ever wonder why we space brothers and space sisters have such nice tans?"
For the first time, the Cableman noticed that Orthon had a deep, dark tan. It was as-if he lived on the beach.
Orthon continued, "I mean when Earth people see us emerge from our flying saucers, they refer to us as "the Nordic aliens". We have blond hair and blue eyes. But how in the world do we have such dark tans?"
The Cableman shrugged his shoulders.
"Follow me, Cableman. It's time you learn our secret." With that, Orthon escorted the Cableman out of the liquor aisle and over to the beauty and cosmetics department. As they walked, Orthon clarified a misconception of Earth people. "You know; not all space brothers and sisters are Nordic appearing. Some of us are darker-skinned. Why, some are real space brothers, if you know what I mean—as in cruise around in their pimped-out scout ships with tinted windows while greeting, 'Say brothuh... whusz happenin', man?' That's right; some space brothers are black. Jimi Hendrix was one of us."
"He was?" asked the Cableman. "But I guess that shouldn't surprise me."
"Oh, he was one of the greatest." declared Orthon. "What about his song, 'third stone from the sun'?
Strange beautiful grass of green,
With your majestic silver seas.
Your mysterious mountains I wish to see closer
May I land my kinky machine?
And don't forget the song, 'if six was nine'! Jimi explained in an interview that the song has cosmic meaning. He drew the two numbers 6 and 9 within each other so that they resembled the birth of the Fibonacci spiral at both negative and positive integer sets.
And if you've ever read up on Jimi Hendrix, you'll know that he made mention of the solar system going through changes in the not-so-distant future. He was referring to the arrival of the rest of us... the rest of us space brothers and sisters who would one day visit Earth."
Orthon stopped in an aisle that had wide selection of sun tanning products. From there he reached for a bottle of Coppertone self-tanning lotion. "This is the one!" he announced. "This will help give you the tan you need."
"Coppertone?" asked the Cableman in a near criticizing voice. "You want me to get a Coppertone tan? That stuff will turn your skin orange." It was then that the Cableman noticed that Orthon's dark tan had a subtle hint of orange.
Just like always, Orthon seemed to read the Cableman's mind. "Right... see... you never actually noticed that I had the trademarked, orange tan until now. And that's what everyone else will see. All they'll notice is that the Cableman has a really, nice tan. They'll naturally assume that you’re a real space brother."
Suddenly, the dream shifted so that the Cableman and Orthon were back in the Saturanian scout ship from two weeks ago. They were in outer space, and rapidly approaching Earth. Orthon wore nothing but a pair of swim trunks. There was a surfboard lying on the floor, nearby.
"You see, Cableman..." began Orthon while applying Coppertone lotion to his already darkened skin. "...When I'm about to hit the beach and catch some killer waves, I'm sure to lather up with Coppertone self tanning lotion. No one wants to go blind from looking at pasty, white skin. Plus, a Coppertone tan makes me look nice for those Earth sisters who might check me out from the shore.
As the scout ship entered the Earth's atmosphere and descended to some beach off the Pacific Ocean, the music of Jimi Hendrix began to play through the onboard music system. It was the song, 'third stone from the sun'.
Once the ship touched the sand, Orthon grabbed his surfboard and jumped out. He couldn't get to the water fast enough.
A three-screened interocitor emerged from the walls of the ship's cabin. An interocitor, in case you are unaware, is a space-aged telecommunications device that allows astronomical communication to take place without the annoying delay brought on by light years of distance. But as the Cableman soon found out, the interocitor also served as an excellent media device.
Some sort of space-aged camera apparently followed Orthon to the sea. While doing so, Orthon explained to the Cableman through the interocitor, "And that's another thing you need to do as a space brother; you need to spend more time at the beach. Most space brothers and sisters reside on planets that are mostly ocean. Many of us are semi-aquatic. Where do you think mermen and mermaids came from?"
"Oh, I know all about that!" reassured the Cableman through the interocitor. "A reincarnated Sirian merman stole my girlfriend from me."
"Sorry to hear about that, Cableman." answered Orthon. By now Orthon was paddling out to sea on his surfboard. He was aiming to surf the perfect wave tunnel.
The music of Jimi Hendrix—'third stone from the sun'— continued to play through the flying saucer's sound system. It was the perfect surfing music as Orthon now stood on his board and rode some waves.
"Check out what your Earth tabloid journals are writing about us." suggested Orthon through the interocitor as he surfed. An article opened up on the screen with the headline, "Human-appearing "space brother" aliens land on the beach to go surfing. Witnesses say they had incredible tans."
"Why don't you come out of that scout ship?" invited Orthon through the interocitor. "There's nothing going on in that cabin by yourself, and nothing going on in that virtual world on the screen. The real world is the place to live. See, that's another thing Earth people need to realize in this social media age. Turn off Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and the likes; turn off your computers and cell phones; touch the grass, sand and oceans to finally live."
As the Cableman descended the plank of the flying saucer, the voice of Jimi Hendrix announced through the music:
"Strange beautiful grass of green,
With your majestic silver seas.
Your mysterious mountains I wish to see closer.
May I land my kinky machine?"
The dream transitioned to the early stages of astral projection in which the Cableman now had the ability to fly. He was suddenly following Orthon through a wave tunnel as Orthon surfed and ascended the oceanic wall.
"See Cableman..." pointed Orthon. "This is what life is all about; surfing the right tides and catching some killer wave tunnels. That's all you need to know. Never mind the rest of it."
While riding the board; Orthon had a perfect, space-aged surfer's body with dark tan. But then the Cableman suddenly noticed that he was somewhat orange. And that's when Orthon turned into an Oompa-Loompa from Willy Wanka's Chocolate Factory.
The music of Jimi Hendrix could still be heard through the wave tunnel as Jimi announced:
"Although your world wonders me
with your majestic superior cackling hen.
Your people I do not understand.
So to you I wish to put an end.
And you'll never hear surf music again."
That was the end of the dream, and the Cableman opened his eyes in bed. The alarm clock was about five minutes from going off—no point in lying there.
As the Cableman sat up and touched his feet to floor, he rubbed the sleep from his face and commented, "So now I'm getting strange Coppertone commercials in my dreams."
To be continued...

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Ex-Girlfriend on Facebook

Hello All:
On Sunday evening I received an urgent email from a reader about a powerful ghost box experience that was had. I got chills just reading it.
Dusty Welsh wrote: "My name is Dusty Anne Welsh and I had to write this to you about the ghost box I installed last night. Something just made me look on mobile one for it. I now know why I looked. Last night on this box I kept hearing Matt trouble over and over. He's my brother and well after that it kept saying JD garage hung JD garage now. JD is my cousin. My brother Matt just called me and told me the news my cousin JD hung himself in the garage last night and is in coma. I ignored the message last night. I will never ignore again!!! I thought I must tell you this. I'm still shaking. If you are ever interested in ghost pictures let me know. My other brother was killed and he is here as well as some others including a young girl I have pics off. Thank you for making this box. I should of listened."
Of course I extended my prayers and sympathies for an attempted suicide in the family. And then I explained that I never created a ghost box, only use them. But just like Dusty, I'm a believer in the ghost box!
Today's featured writing is a brand, new short story. Do you think it's safe stalking your ex-girlfriend on Facebook? Well think again!
Ex-Girlfriend on Facebook
Just how safe are you in stalking an ex-girlfriend on Facebook? Maybe you are one of them; those heartbroken and obsessed guys who feel that you lost one of the "good ones". In your perception, the whole break-up was a mistake; wrong things said at the wrong time along with a bad mixture of mutual stubbornness. And when the two of you parted your separate ways, each of you momentarily looked behind to see if the other was absolutely sure about this. But that look-behind wasn't simultaneous. You looked behind when she wasn't looking. And she looked behind when you weren't looking. It was another misunderstanding for both of you; confirmation that he or she was really serious about the break-up.
But, again, that's your perception. And your perception isn't necessarily reality. In truth, she's probably happy to finally have you out of her life. She's probably even hooked up with a new guy—a real Mr. Right who knows how to treat her well. But don't give up. There's always the hope that she might change her mind and come back to you. And fortunately for you, there is Facebook. Even though she's un-friended you, ignored your pathetic messages, and changed her social status to "in a relationship"; you can still visit her page and view the pictures that she shares with everyone for clues to help bring you back together.
Andy was one of those guys—heartbroken and obsessed with his ex-girlfriend, Candice. She left him for some guy that she met at the coffee shop. He simply offered to take her on a beach vacation in Spain.
"That's all it takes?" Andy asked her upon hearing the news. "We've been together for almost two years." he  argued.
"Well in those two years, you never took me on vacation." answered Candice.
"But what about that weekend getaway in Michigan?" reminded Andy.
Candice merely made a pondering face while sarcastically stating, "Hmm... let's see... a cottage resort in Michigan vs. a beach resort in Spain." Then she looked at Andy. "I don't think we need to discuss much more. It's no contest."
And with that, Candice walked away. She immediately changed her Facebook status to, "In a new relationship!", and un-friended her ex-boyfriend, Andy.
But that didn't stop Andy from visiting Candice's Facebook page. You see; Candice is one of those women who make all of their posts public. Selfies, group photos with friends, and updates of where she's at and who she's with; it's as-if she wishes for her life to be on display for the whole world to see. Then again, maybe she was doing this for a reason. Maybe she suspected that the guy from the coffee shop was stalking her on Facebook. She probably wished for him to learn some things about her.
If this were true, Andy believed, that surely Candice would have changed her settings so that all of her posts were finally private. She won her new boyfriend through making her posts public so that he could stalk her. There was no longer a reason to broadcast her life to the world.
But what was this? Candice continued to leave her Facebook posts public. Andy got to see new pictures of Candice with her new boyfriend, Scott.
"Such a good-looking couple!" people commented.
"You look so happy!" commented others.
"Thanks everyone!" answered Candice. "I love Scott so much. He's the greatest guy, ever."
Surely Candice knew that Andy was stalking her on Facebook. She had to! A day hadn't passed since the breakup when Andy didn't write her a message on Facebook to please take him back. Maybe she continued to make public posts so that her un-friended ex-boyfriend could see how happy she was. Then again, maybe she did it as a way to communicate her regrets. Maybe deep down inside, Candice wished to take Andy back.
Two weeks after the breakup, Andy saw a disheartening, early morning post from Candice. She tagged her location at the airport, and tagged her new boyfriend, Scott. "Vacation begins! Spain here we come!" said the caption.
Throughout Candice's stay in Europe; Andy lost many nights of sleep, stalking his ex-girlfriend's Facebook page for live updates from the beach in Spain. In agony he viewed selfies of Candice and Scott kissing in the water. Then there were the sexy photos taken by Scott of Candice lying on the sand in her two-piece bikini. Candice shared these for everyone to see; see how luscious and dark her skin had gotten from the Spanish sun. She even started to appear sexy-Spanish!
Then, almost immediately upon Candice's return to America, the Facebook updates ceased. One final profile pic of her sitting at a restaurant with wine glass in hand was uploaded. And that was the last transmission Andy received for nearly a year and a half.
What happened? Did Candice finally lock her Facebook posts to be private? Was she no longer hoping that Andy or some other man stalked her on Facebook? Or maybe Candice finally found a real life; not some virtual world on social media. This happens to people who find contentment with romance; they discover a real world with real wine—not just photos of it—and real kitties—not just photos of them lying in baskets. A real world outside of Facebook has real feelings and emotions—not photos with words that suggest how we should feel. Yes, maybe Candice finally found happiness in the right man. She was finally in love, and no longer needed to coexist in the virtual realm of Facebook.
This is what Andy concluded. For that matter, he gave up stalking his ex-girlfriend on Facebook. It was time to move on.
One Saturday morning, nearly eighteen months after Candice broke up with Andy, she sat in a coffee shop with her close girlfriend, Jill.
"So there's no chance of you and Scott patching things up?" asked Jill with cup of coffee in her hand."
"Nope." answered Candice. "I think this is truly the end." She sighed, "I don't know; after a year with him, I started to see things I didn't like about him."
"Right!" encouraged Jill. "The guy had no problem with checking out other women. I mean all guys do it, but at least make your woman feel like she's the only one when you're with her."
"Totally!" agreed Candice.
Jill cracked a smile. "So are you and Andy going to get back together?"
Candice shook her head in negation. "I don't think so. It's best to leave that behind. But you know... I often suspect that he's been stalking me on Facebook."
"Really?" asked Jill while setting down her cup of coffee. She was definitely interested. "How do you know?"
"I just know." answered Candice. "I can feel it. I mean the guy was totally obsessed with me."
"Right!" encouraged Jill. "Remember how he wrote you on Facebook, everyday, when you broke up with him?"
"Yup!" agreed Candice. "And I just know he was staying up all night to catch my Facebook updates from Spain."
Jill giggled.
Then Candice declared, "I just wish there were a way to see who's been checking out my Facebook page. I looked into it, but Facebook takes privacy seriously."
"Jill shook her head while smiling. "Girl, there's a way. I'm telling you that you can get all your questions answered."
"Really? How?" asked Candice.
Jill explained, "My sister has a friend who works for Facebook. Get this! They have a back door tool that enables them to monitor the act ivies of any given user. It's needed for investigating complaints and stuff, or troubleshooting technical difficulties. But you can see everything with this tool. Not only can you see who's profile they are checking, or what photos they've looked at; but you can even see that they were about to comment on something or send someone a message."
Candice gasped. "Really? Can your sister's friend check up on Andy for me?"
"Oh, I can do better than that!" declared Jill. "I have the secret password to access this tool. Only qualified people can use it. But my sister got it from someone who works at Facebook, and she gave it to me. You're my best friend, and now I'm going to give it to you."
"Oh thank you!" exclaimed Candice.
"But wait!" nearly shouted Jill. "There's more!"
"More?" asked Candice.
"Yes, this back door tool enables you to access the hardware on their phones. You'll actually be able to watch Andy and hear what he's saying—even breathing—while he uses his phone. You simply select the front camera view so you can see everything."
A couple of days later, Andy was minding his own business when he suddenly had mysterious thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, Candice. The thoughts weren't too involved at first. He merely recalled some date they had and words that were exchanged with a waiter at a restaurant. But as the day progressed; those feelings of longing for Candice returned so that by nightfall, he strongly wished for her to come back.
"Why am I suddenly missing Candice?" Andy asked himself. “I thought I was finally over her.” Curious, he opened Facebook on his phone, and maneuvered over to Candice's profile. Much to his surprise, Candice had a new profile pic—a simple selfie taken while driving in her car. And so shocking; she changed her relationship status to "single"!
"Oh wow! They broke up!" exclaimed Andy. "I bet she's been thinking about me throughout the day. That's why I've suddenly been thinking about her." For Andy, It was the most logical explanation.
Then, for old time's sake, Andy visited Candice's photo albums. Apparently, she had returned to the virtual realm of Facebook. There was a new photo of her and Jill in a coffee shop. The caption said, "Nice to have Saturday morning coffee with an old friend."
"See!" nearly shouted Andy. She's hanging out with her friends. And she's posting on Facebook, again. She and that Scott must seriously be over. Now she doesn't know what to do with herself.”
Andy browsed the collection of photos taken from the beach in Spain. He zoomed in on Candice's face which was usually covered by dark sunglasses. Still, it revealed her pretty hair and lips. How Andy longed to kiss them. He zoomed in on photos of Candice lying on the beach and carefully studied her tan, sexy thighs. With finger, he maneuvered up Candice’s entire body—pausing near her crotch and then pausing at her tan cleavage.
"She got a lot of sun out there in Spain." said Andy with a smile. "Just look at how dark and tan those tits are! I sure miss those tits!"
The following afternoon; Candice and her girlfriend, Jill, met for lunch at a cafe. Both women worked in nearby offices. It wasn't uncommon for them to hook up for lunch a couple days a week.
"So have you been using that Facebook tool to check up on Andy?" asked Jill to Candice.
"I have!" answered Candice. "And I can't wait to show you what I found out." Candice opened the Facebook tool on her phone. "It shows he was on my Facebook profile page at 9:47 pm, last night. He went over to my picture albums, and looked at all the photos taken in Spain. And check out what he was doing!"
The Facebook tool had the ability to show which pictures Andy had zoomed in on. Both women could now see that Andy had studied Candice's face, cleavage and crotch for nearly two minutes.
"Oh Honey, he wants you back!" informed Jill. "If he's spending that much time checking out your body, you know he wishes he can have you."
Just then, Candice gasped while looking at the screen on her phone.
"What? What is it?" asked Jill.
"It says that he's on Facebook right now." answered Candice.
"See how helpful the tool is." pointed Jill.
Candice gasped again. "It says that he's composing me a message."
"Keep watching!" urged Jill. "The tool will actually reveal which letters he's typing. You'll actually get to see what he really thinks, unedited, before he changes things and sends you the message. People do that, you know."
"But I don't understand." complained Candice. "It says that he's just hitting the space bar."
Both women sat for a few seconds while examining the screen. Then Jill realized what Andy was doing. "Oh, I know what he's trying to do."
"What?" asked Candice. "Tell me!"
"He believes that you are thinking about him, and hopes that you might be in your Facebook Messenger and maybe reading his old messages to you. Have you ever been writing a private message to someone on Facebook, and noticed that he or she was typing at the same time you were?"
"Yeah..." answered Candice.
"Well that's what he hopes." continued Jill. "He's afraid to send you a real message because he'll look like a loser. But if, by some chance, you feel the same way that he does—as in want him back—you just might be in your message box to notice that he's typing you a message. He's hoping it will inspire you to say hi."
Candice opened her Facebook Messenger. Sure enough, it said that Andy was typing. "Interesting..." she commented.
At 11:30 that night, Candice made an urgent phone call to her girlfriend, Jill.
"Hello?" answered Jill.
"Jill, you're not going to believe this!"
"What now?"
"I'm on my notepad, and logged into the Facebook tool. I decided I would try and access the camera on Andy’s phone. Well guess what? He's on my Facebook page, and masturbating to pictures of me at the beach!"
"Get out of here!" shouted Jill. "No way! Now this I have to see!" Jill dashed over to her PC and logged into the Facebook tool. Just like Candice, she searched for Andy, and discovered that he was looking at photos of Candice on the beach; in particular a close-up photo of her face and upper body above water. The image revealed Candice's tan cleavage that bulged through her bikini top.
Then Jill activated the camera monitor. Sure enough, there lay Andy in bed, naked, stroking his erect cock before the phone in his hand.
"Candice? Are you still there?" asked Jill on the phone.
"I am. I can't believe this. This tool is amazing."
"Tell me about it! You would have never known about this."
Both women watched Andy as he breathed heavily. His racing heart could be seen pounding through his chest. And he must have been getting really excited; for he started to whisper out, "Candice... Oh Candice... Please come back to me... You know you want me back."
Andy zoomed in on Candice's cleavage on the screen. Then he pressed his erect cock between her breasts. "I just want to rip that top off of you and slide my hard dick between your tits! Your tits are so dark and beautiful!"
Then Andy zoomed out from Candice's breasts, and began slapping his erection against her face.
Both women got to see the pre-cum oozing from Andy's erect cock.
"The phone is going to have dried up cock prints tomorrow morning." said Jill to Candice.
Candice laughed. "Yup!"
"Kiss me, Candice. I want to kiss you so bad!" whispered Andy while pulling the phone away from his messy, wet erection. Both women watched in awe as Candice's naked, ex-boyfriend lay in bed while continuing to masturbate to her photos. "Let me rip that blue bikini top off and suck those gorgeous, tan tits. I want to make your nipples hard!"
Andy, once again, pushed his erection against the screen of the phone. "Oh Candice! Please suck my cock! Love me like you used to!"
Suddenly, gobs of hot, creamy cum blew all over the phone and camera lens. The ejaculation released the painful yearning for a woman that could never be had.
"Eww!" exclaimed Candice.
"I could feel and smell that all the way from here." commented Jill. "That was pent up anguish and frustration for many months. He wants you! He wants you bad! Imagine what great make-up sex the two of you can have. So are you going to take him back?"
"No way!" answered Candice. "It felt good to get rid of him. Why would I want to waste my time even thinking about him?"
Jill laughed, "Well..."

The End!