Thursday, November 27, 2014

Welcome the Winter Sky--2014

Hello All:
Happy Thanksgiving and welcome to our annual publication of Welcome the Winter Sky. Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the winter holidays. And if you step outside in the evening, you can immediately recognize the beautiful, winter sky. That's why tonight is the perfect night to dust off the telescope or binoculars and head outside to see what the sky has to offer.
I've noticed something while reading some of the past issues of this series. For some reason, the planetary forecasts have gone only so far as reporting where the visible planets will be on Thanksgiving night. What about the remainder of the winter months? To answer this, I now forecast the journey of the planets through March. Take for example, Venus and Saturn. They will not be visible tonight. But Venus will return in the evening come January, and Saturn will make a predawn showing by New Year's Eve.
Happy Thanksgiving! If the weather permits, do step outside to check out the winter sky.
Welcome the Winter Sky--2014
If you follow and observe the Moon, it will be a waxing crescent on Thanksgiving with about 30 percent illumination. Visible from twilight until about 10:00pm when it sets; the Moon offers little-to-no light interference while viewing celestial objects on Thanksgiving night.
Step outside around nightfall, and look low in the southwest for a glimpse of Mars.  For best viewing through a telescope, it is strongly recommended that you do this early in the evening--just after nightfall--before the planet sets further. Images of planets low in the horizon through the glass can be distorted. If you miss Mars on Thanksgiving night, don’t worry. The planet maintains this nightfall position throughout the winter months, and then gradually transitions to a predawn object in the spring and summer months of next year.
For a good challenge on Thanksgiving night, set down that turkey drumstick and see if you can find the planet, Uranus. To do this, scan the southern sky in the constellation of Pegasus. Locate what is commonly known as the square of Pegasus, and find the bottom, left star. From there, move a slight distance out towards the star, Delta Pisces. Uranus should be just below that. Again, be sure to look early enough in the evening. Although Uranus sets around 2am, the best viewing is when the planet is higher in the sky. For optimal viewing of this gaseous giant throughout the winter months, don’t delay. The planet sets earlier and earlier as the weeks pass, onwards into the spring. From there it becomes a pre-dawn object.
Can you wait a few minutes before eating more stuffing or having a slice of pumpkin pie? If so, take on your next challenge of viewing the planet, Neptune! In November, Neptune is found in the constellation, Aquarius. Just like with Uranus, you will need to look south. It might be a bit difficult to accurately locate the planet. See the image of Aquarius.
Throughout November, Neptune should pass within the region in the outlined square. Just like Mars and Uranus, Neptune will be a predawn planet by spring of next year.
After your Thanksgiving nap following that drunken holiday feast, bundle up and go back outside to check out the king of the planets,
Jupiter. It rises around 10:00 and should be found in the east near the constellation, Leo. Really, you don’t need star maps or tricks in help finding it. Just look for a bright star in that direction. Yup, that’s it! Viewing the planet through a telescope is always a treat, due to the multi color bands and the great spot (if your telescope is powerful enough.) But don’t forget to take note of the four, surrounding moons which can be seen even with a modest pair of binoculars. As the nights pass you can view their ever-changing positions.
Is 10:00 too late for you? Will you be passed out for the night on Thanksgiving? Well don’t worry; by December, Jupiter will be rising earlier and earlier.
Planet Nibiru: Did the theoretical planet speculated as being a brown dwarf actually disintegrate into the Sun last year? Recall that on Thanksgiving of 2013, the world nervously watched as comet Ison made its dangerous journey close to the Sun. We all hoped and prayed it would survive. Unfortunately, poor comet Ison saw its end. But perhaps this was a good thing. Perhaps comet Ison was the dreaded Nibiru (planet X) with dramatic, elliptical orbit. It was supposed to smash into the Earth. Maybe, now, we are safe.
Venus is not visible on Thanksgiving, but may be visible by
Christmas--definitely returning as an evening planet in January. Saturn will be a predawn object by New Year’s Eve, and will gradually transition to rising in the late evening by late March of next year.

By late December, Mercury will be visible in the twilight. If you are in the city, or a place where there are a lot trees, you might need to relocate to an area where you have a clear shot of the western horizon. Mercury travels so close to the Sun, that it's only visible in the early twilight, and just before the sun rises.
Don't forget the Geminids meteor shower that will peak on the night of December 13th. The Geminids are created by the "comet-like" orbit pattern of asteroid 3200 Paethon. You see; 3200 Paethon is a very, special asteroid in that it travels close to the sun. Its traveling dust is responsible for the annual meteor shower in December.
If you live in an urban area, you might not get much meteor action. That's okay; you can still listen to the meteors enter the Earth's atmosphere at Space Weather Radio. Meteors are always entering the Earth's atmosphere. You might even hear some right now. LISTEN LIVE! Imagine what you will hear during the Geminids!

There is still time to left to see the Summer Triangle!
If you get outside early enough--say around 9:00pm--you will find yourself in the very center of the autumn and winter sky with the famous Summer Triangle in the west and the winter objects in the east. The Summer Triangle is a beautiful right triangle in the sky that is formed by the stars  Altair, Deneb, and Vega. You can think of the Summer Triangle as an "unofficial" constellation as the bright stars belong to the individual constellations of Aquila, Cygnus, and Lyra. But how nice of these borrowed stars to be joined in a right triangle whose hypotenuse is formed by the vertices of  Altair and Deneb. Be sure to bid this beautiful, celestial summer shape goodbye as the sky will soon be dominated by the objects of winter.
In the east, the first thing you will probably notice are 3 bright stars with a patch of light underneath them.
As most people are aware, these belong to the constellation Orion as the belt. Take a look through your binoculars at this patch and you will be amazed. This is the Orion nebula, or what some people call it: the stellar nursery. At this moment millions of stars are being created and migrating their way out of this nursery. Our sun came from the Orion nebula.
Unfortunately you will not be able to see the intense red color as seen in the photograph. You will see however a hazy cloud surrounded by stars.

Now scan around the Orion belt. Above the belt and slightly to the left is the star Betelgeuse. You can recognize this as the star that glows with a dull red. In the opposite corner of the constellation, to the southwest is the star called Rigel. This is the brightest star in the constellation and has a mass estimated to equal 250 of our suns. The most recognizable feature of Orion is, of course, the three stars ( Mintaka, Alnilam, and Alnitak) which form the belt.

The famous Horsehead Nebula is immediately recognized by the striking resemblance of a horse's head as formed by a dark shadow. Not much further south of Orion is this famous nebula that might be a challenge to see in a telescope or binoculars  Of course the red color isn't seen from Earth. Long-exposure photography must absorb this light to reveal it--so beautiful.
Look for the recognizable, small patch of stars called the Pleiades. Sometimes beginning astronomers mistake this group of stars as the Little Dipper. It is not the Little Dipper, but it yields a spectacular view in binoculars. The Pleiades are a network of young stars which were formed together and still travel together. We know that they are young as evidenced by their blue color. One day they will change color and eventually through billions of years go in their own directions.
Looking above the eastern horizon is an unusual looking star that catches the attention of many people later in the evening. It appears to have a fluorescent glow when rising and is very bright. This is the star named Sirius and is the main star in the constellation Canis Major. Actually there is nothing out of the ordinary about Sirius. The only reason why it is so bright is because it is closer to us than many other stars. It is so bright, that star maps use it as a reference to compare large objects to. There is something interesting about Sirius. It has a small companion (invisible to Earth) that orbits with it. This star is called Sirius B and it plays a gravitational dance with the larger.
 There are so many objects to entertain us in the winter sky and we could never get to them all in one edit. If you do not go out on Thanksgiving night and look at all of this, at least venture out some time this winter and see what I am talking about.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

A Gruesome Gift

Hello All:
It's the middle of the week, and we hope you are doing well. 
Today we offer what is the first in a series of  mystery short stories. Keep in mind this is the Literary World of Tom Raimbault, so expect some bizarre and graphic plots.
Be sure to join us tomorrow, Thanksgiving, for our annual Welcome the Winter Sky. Get the planetary forecasts and celestial events in the winter sky for 2014/2015. That will be available, tomorrow.
A Gruesome Gift
A pair of black-leather gloved hands rummaged through a plastic bag from Walmart that sat on a kitchen counter. They removed a pair of silk panties with purple flower print; the special sort of panties that one would find hanging in the sexy intimate apparel aisle—only one item on a hanger with price tag. At the cash register some hours ago, the cashier had separated the panties from the hanger. No one, after all, hangs their panties in the closet. As for the tag, it now needed to be removed. To do this, the black-leather gloved hands simply slipped their fingers—one from each hand—inside the plastic ring and broke it so that the tag came off. Surely caution had been exercised to ensure that the silk panties wouldn’t be ruined through removing the plastic ring.
The panties were then set on the table as the black-leather gloved hands reached into the bag. This time they pulled out a butcher knife that was sealed in one of those cheap packages made of cardboard backing with transparent plastic glued over it. The plastic was simply ripped off, and the two twist-ties were undone to remove the knife.
The black-leather gloved hands spent some several seconds inspecting the crotch of the panties, circling a particular area as if measuring or calculating. Apparently satisfied, the end of the butcher knife was carefully pushed through the crotch until the blade was about halfway in.
With the butcher knife successfully sliced into the pair of silk panties, the black-leather gloved hands reached into the plastic bag and removed a cardboard gift box; one of those boxes that one would purchase at the department store during the holidays. It was necessary to assemble the box, and then lay tissue on the bottom before carefully laying the panties with butcher knife in the crotch inside the box.
Before closing the lid, the black-leather gloved hands reached over for a bottle of ketchup. The strangest thing was done with the ketchup. It was poured all over the crotch of the panties and knife. It almost looked like blood! In fact, that was the intended effect. It was to suggest that a violent crime had been (or was about to be) committed.
A couple of days later, which just so happened to be a Thursday mid-morning, forty-eight-year-old housewife, Krystal, put her cleaning supplies away in the laundry room cabinet. She had just finished her weekly cleaning of the master bathroom. Krystal is a highly active woman; always cleaning and doing various decorating projects throughout the house. She’s a faithful, loving wife and a dedicated mother. And so amazing; she has plenty of time to work in her at-home business—an Avon representative which she has had much successful with. She works out each day, has even trained and competed in numerous marathons throughout her adult life. Krystal is an avid churchgoer who also volunteers to serve during mass—doing the readings, handing out communion, and even leading various charity programs. The woman is truly amazing! Any man would be lucky to have Krystal as his wife.
Just as Krystal walked out of the laundry room and into the front room, a UPS truck could be heard barreling down the street. It reached a screeching halt in front of the house. A male driver in the trademarked UPS brown uniform quickly hopped out and walked up to the door with what appeared to be a wrapped gift.
“What’s this?” asked Krystal out loud. She quickly looked in the mirror and brushed her hair with her hands to ensure that she looked pretty for the UPS driver. Then she dashed over to the door to answer.
“Hi!” Krystal greeted with a smile.
“I just need you to sign.” said the driver.
Krystal accepted the electronic pad from the driver and signed her name. Then she was given the mysterious package—a present. She was surprised to see that it was addressed to her.
“Thank you!” Krystal was sure to give the UPS driver a warm and alluring smile before closing the door.
So what could the present have been? Was it a little something from Krystal’s husband; a little surprise before he left for his business trip the following day? George was always doing sweet things like this. Maybe it was a nice dress with an invitation for an evening out to dinner and some entertaining event.
But what was this?
Krystal’s arms and hands immediately shook and grew weak after lifting the lid on the box. She grew so weak and sick from the unexpected terror, in fact, that she actually dropped the box on the kitchen table. “Oh my gosh!” her voice tremored while backing away. Heart rate and breathing accelerated. You see, poor Krystal has an anxiety disorder. And having a mysterious gift from anonymous person sent to her house, that was nothing more than a knife stabbed into a pair of panties with crotch and smothered in ketchup, can certainly trigger uncontrollable panic.
She staggered into the family room and collapsed on the couch, then reached into the pocket for the phone.
Across town her husband, George, received a call from his wife. “Hello?” he answered.
There were a couple seconds of pause before Krystal finally spoke. “George… come quickly… I need you to come home…”
To be continued...

Friday, November 21, 2014

Change My Panties for a Dollar

Hello All:
Today's featured writing is a brand new story which was inspired by one of those dreams we have just moments before the alarm clock goes off. You recognize these types of dreams, I'm sure. The brain has been resting for several hours, and you are in a state of shallow sleep. You have dreams of rushing out of the house for work or school, but keep forgetting items which results in never leaving. Maybe you dream of trying to run away, but can only bounce up in the air before landing where you started. Or maybe you are in an old, abandoned factory where you aimlessly climb up and down flights of stairs.
This particular dream that I had was so vivid and bizarre that I had to turn it into a short story for you. It was definitely weird enough to be considered material that is found at the Literary World of Tom Raimbault.
Have a great weekend! Keep some dollar bills on hand in case someone offers you to change their panties for a dollar.
Change My Panties for a Dollar

I’d like to relay to you one of the most bizarre experiences I had some years ago at a local carnival. At the time I was merely passing through the main walk area, alone, where I suddenly found myself stuck behind a large crowd of people who were standing in various lines to board rides or play games. This can happen in large crowded areas at carnivals. With so many people, the region becomes gridlocked.
While standing there and waiting for the crowd of people to gradually disburse so I could continue walking, I became aware of a young woman who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. Wearing tight jeans, she stood
with a group of friends and—of all things—toyed with her buttocks while pointing to the area known as the infra-gluteal crease. As she explained to those nearby, she was very proud of this area on her buttocks.
Suddenly she turned and asked me, “Would you like to change my panties for me?”
Taken aback and at a loss of words, I did not answer her. I thought she was simply being rude and trying to make me the butt-end of the joke.
“Sir, would you like to change my panties for me?” she repeated. “It’s only a dollar.” She pointed at the building up at the front of the line. It was then that I realized she was inviting me to enjoy one of the attractions at the carnival. She wasn’t someone standing in line with her friends. She actually worked at an indoor booth, and had apparently stepped out to find more customers.  This particular booth allowed men to remove the pants and undergarments of young women just to help them into something new.
What harm could this activity have done? And it was cheap. “Umm… Sure…” I answered.
I was quickly led into the building and taken to a counter where a female cashier took my money. The young woman who invited me to change her panties stepped away into another room, and closed the door. Apparently, that was the room where I was to enjoy the cheap entertainment.
“I know it’s only a dollar…” I began to cashier. “But I’m I allowed to take as long as wish in changing her panties?” It suddenly occurred to me that it might be fun to play with her panties while she wore them, and maybe feel her prized buttocks while doing so.
“Nope!” she answered. “It can only take as long as it takes to remove and put panties back on.
“Okay…” I concluded that playing around and feeling personal body parts was not permitted.
The cashier then asked, “I’m going to need to see some photo ID.”
“A Photo ID?”
What was this? Originally believing the attraction to be an anonymous quick-in-quick-out form of entertainment; I now wondered if the police were somehow involved, and secretly building a list of perverts who participated. If there were ever a sexual crime in the area, they would simply check the list of those who paid money to change a young woman’s panties for suspects.
I sighed while handing her my driver’s license and then asked, “So have you had many people here, today?”
“Nope!” she answered while walking over to the copy machine. “You’re the first person here all day.”
I grew all the more hesitant in proceeding with this attraction. It was about quarter-to-five in the afternoon, and I was the only pervert in town who chose to pay the young woman in the next room one dollar to change her panties. What would people think of me if they ever found out? And speaking of the time of day, it was running late. I had to be home by five o’clock for dinner.
“Okay, you’re all set!” The cashier announced while handing my ID back. “You can enter the next room and join Molly. She is eagerly waiting for you to change her panties.”
I cautiously knocked on the door and entered the other room which resembled a large hotel suite that was even complete with a counter and refrigerator. Molly casually lied on the bed, on her side—so relaxed.
“Could you go in the refrigerator and get me a bottle of juice?” she asked.
Not sure how this fit into the description of the activity I paid for, I walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Umm… Let’s see… There are about a dozen bottles of MGD light, a few cans of diet Dr. Pepper, and some plastic bottles of Kool-Aid Bursts. By juice, I assume you mean the Kook-Aid?”
“Yes, that’s it! Please bring me one!”
I did as she ordered and brought the bottle over to her.
Casually lying on her side as if in no hurry to do anything, she opened the bottle and took a few gulps. “Ahhhhh…” Then she looked up at me, “Well, anytime you’re ready. I have a fresh pair of panties and jeans on the dresser over there.” She pointed in the direction.
“Are you just going to lay there while I change them?” I asked.
“Yeah, is that okay?”
I sighed, “Sure that’s fine.” and then walked over to the dresser. I was actually getting a bit annoyed and disappointed with the situation. Why was there so much involved in simply handing a young woman a dollar; then going in a room with her to pull down her panties to put new ones on? Aside from that, she was laying on the bed. I really wanted her to stand up so I could get a full view of her naked buttocks—see this infra-gluteal crease that she was bragging about.
By the time I returned to the bed, she had finished her drink and then lay on her back. I suddenly wasn’t that much into what was about to happen. It brought me back to those unpleasant days of changing diapers! Regardless, I undid her jeans and pulled them off. I could see she had a nice pair of silky, shapely thighs. And the panties she wore were interesting. They had smiley face print all over them.
Next I removed her panties and tried to enjoy the sight of what had been hidden seconds before. But blast it, anyway; Molly quickly rolled her thigh over in such a way to cover her crotch. And of course, being that she was laying on her back, I was unable to see her buttocks with prized infra-gluteal crease.
It was getting closer and closer to five o’clock, and I was mindful that dinner was soon to be served at home. I quickly slid her new panties on and helped her back into her jeans; all the while silently telling myself that I would never waste my time on this sort of activity, again.
Molly quickly stood up once fully dressed and then pointed in the direction of the closet. “There’s a dress in there that I actually want to wear over this. Could you get that for me?”
“The dress in the closet; do you see it?”
“Umm… yeah?” It was now 4:55pm. It would take me ten minutes to drive home, and I needed to leave—literally—five minutes ago!
“Bring it over to me.” she ordered.
Dumbfounded, and not sure why I was obeying her orders, I walked over to the closet and removed a peculiar Victorian era dress from the rod. With all the layers and material, the thing must have weighed nearly ten pounds, and looked to be something Abraham Lincoln’s wife would have worn.
Helping her into it wasn’t so easy. There were countless buttons, zippers and straps.
“No, that one doesn’t get fastened, yet…” she would tell me with a note of annoyance. “Wait; let me see if I can squeeze my stomach in a little tighter… Now do the zipper…”
I recall in the middle of this difficult task of looking up at the clock and noticing that it was already 5:20!
And so to my fellow men, I leave you a good piece of advice. If you are ever at a carnival or some festival, and you are offered to change the panties of a young and beautiful woman for only a dollar; don’t do it! It’s a scam! It’s more trouble than what it’s worth!

The End!

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Edgar Allan Poe's Tell Tale Heart--smashing performance by Vincent Price

Hello All:
Recently, my daughter excitedly reported to me that in her literature class; she and a group of students were going to perform a small play based on Edgar Allan Poe's Tell Tale Heart. This came after reading the short story and doing the literary analysis. And to make the news all the more exciting, my daughter had the roll of the narrator--the murderer.
"That's awesome!" I congratulated. "Do you know what you need to do to perfect your acting?" I asked. "You need to watch Vincent Price act out his performance of a Tell Tale Heart." And with that, we both sat down to watch it.
Do check the video out. The late Vincent Price does a smashing job in acting out the crazy murderer who insists that he is not so crazy, due to his cleverness. Unfortunately it was broken down into two video. It must have been uploaded some years ago when You Tube only allowed so much space per video.
Part One:
 Part Two:
A little treat for you: today's featured writing is the great work by Edgar Allan Poe, Tell Tale Heart.
Tell Tale Heart -- short story by Edgar Allan Poe
TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Lovey the Clown

Hello All:
Perhaps you recall about a year ago my mention of a robin in my backyard that fell under a terrible spell of delusionment. He spent the entire weekend, pecking and head butting the windows that faced our backyard. By the end of the weekend, our windows were covered with bird saliva, grinded up beak and even blood.
And why was he doing this?
Well, understand that robins—just like all birds during the mating/nesting season—are territorial. If a robin has a nest nearby, he won't stand for having another robin invade his territory. Birds don't understand reflections in the glass. And as far as the delusioned robin in my backyard was concerned, the reflection that he saw was a threat to his territory.
"SMACK...! SMACK...! SMACK...!" He never gave up. He might have even died in his ongoing battle with the phantom bird.
I believe that people, unfortunately, do the same thing. We spend much of our lives interpreting the world around us and injecting our own perceptions to form an individualized reality. Preconceptions, inferences, prejudices, unfounded conclusions, and the expectations that we have on other people; they all form a nightmarish funhouse of a never-ending maze of mirrors. Will we ever be able to see beyond the reflections and understand reality as it truly is?
It should become our objective at some point in a lifetime to smash through these mirrors and banish those phantoms that haunt us day after day. We can do this by transforming the mind so that it is like a still body of water that reflects the surrounding world. Perhaps when we reflect the outside world instead of presenting  our own reflections to that nightmarish funhouse that we've created, we can finally see reality as it truly is.
Today's featured writing is a brand new clown story for you. I mentioned in the last clown story that if we every want to move forward with clown literature, we need to move away from John Wayne Gayce and Pennywise the Clown. I do this in today's story.
I bring you, Lovey the Clown.
Lovey the Clown
Charles is a lonely, old man who never married. He’s had only two women in younger years that could remotely be considered partners in romance. He attributes his bad luck with women to the fact that he is ugly. You see; Charles has always been ugly, starting with his deformed lips that make a nasty hair lip which exposes his gangly, yellow teeth. Then there’s his terribly scarred-up face that was brought on by bad acne in teenage years. 
But one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Although ugly, Charles is a really, nice guy. He is so kind, caring and good natured with a great sense of humor. But what about those two lovers from younger years? If Charles was such a great guy, why didn’t they stay with him?
Well, maybe those young women weren’t so great, themselves.
There was Annie, a pretty girl in high school who dated Charles for only about a week. It was the first girl that Charles had ever kissed. But he managed to get only one from her—a simple peck to his nasty, deformed hair lip that exposes his gangly, yellow teeth.
“You never kissed a girl?” she asked while sitting next to Charles on a park bench late one night.
It was over before Charles realized what happened!
Really, Annie only dated Charles to get even with her boyfriend who supposedly cheated on her. Once jealousy had been triggered in this boy, and he seemed to learn his lesson, Annie ended the short-lived romance with poor Charles.
Then, shortly after graduating high school, there was Stacy; a beaten and battered young and chubby brunette with very, low self esteem who simply needed a rest from being physically abused by her boyfriend. Charles became involved with Stacy shortly after her wrist had been broken from being shoved to the ground during a beating.
“I feel so comfortable and relaxed with you.” she professed while sitting across the booth from Charles at Denny’s and eating her slice of pumpkin pie.
“I hope so…” answered Charles. “And I just want you to know that you make me so happy.”
“Where have you been my whole life?” asked Stacy. “For so many years I’ve been with jerk guys. I never realized that what I needed was a nice guy like you.”
The relationship with Stacy lasted longer than the one with Annie. But so disappointing; Charles never managed to kiss Stacy. He tried, once, but she turned her face so that Charles could only kiss her cheek. His nasty, deformed hair lip that exposed his gangly, yellow teeth must have turned Stacy off.  There was, however, plenty of hugging and cuddling in their relationship. At one point Charles believed that he could make love to Stacy through just hugging and cuddling.
The entire romance lasted from November of that year, all the way to April of the following. But alas, one early evening in spring, Stacy made an unbelievable announcement. “I think I want to go back to him.”
“Go back to him? No! Why? He beat you!”
“I think he’s changed.” Stacy rebutted. “He came over to see me the other night, and I think he’s had some time to think about things. He told me he’s sorry. I can’t deny that I love him, and want to give him another chance.”
Charles was dumbfounded. He wanted to cry out, “Well what about us?” But he realized what most rebound men of abused women soon discover: battered women always crawl back for more.
And more she received! Two weeks after returning to her abusive boyfriend, Stacy was beaten into a coma and died two days later.
Poor Charles was grief stricken and heartbroken. He loved Stacy, obviously more than her murderous boyfriend. And at the funeral home he couldn’t even view her in the casket, for it was closed. You see; the beating was so severe that Stacy’s physical appearance would have deeply disturbed mourners.
There are some who say that those who appear the happiest and laugh the most are actually masking sadness. I suppose this might have been what happened with Charles. Some months after much grief, Charles’ depressed personality suddenly changed into that of a comedian. He joked and put on hysterical performances for family and friends. Some people even suggested that he go into the business of entertainment.
But instead of using his newfound talent to explore professional entertainment, Charles landed a job as an overnight janitor at the local department store. He remained there for several years. Charles never bothered going to college, or pursuing greater career options. He lived with his parents, remained single and never bothered to date women. As poor Charles understood, he was too ugly for romance. And he truly believed that Stacy was the one and only woman meant for him.
Then, one morning as Charles drove the floor buffer machine through the main aisle of the Men’s clothing department, he saw an unbelievable sight. A young woman who looked, exactly, like his murdered Stacy walked along the perimeter aisle of the Men’s clothing department, and over to Children’s. She didn’t even bother to take notice of him. Perhaps she felt that someone riding a floor buffer machine was a loser—someone clearly out of his league. Then again, maybe she just didn’t see him.
Charles wasn’t going to take any chances. He was definitely interested in the young woman, but realized he had to go about matters carefully. How to approach the young woman without revealing his hideous appearance and sad circumstance in life; he pondered this in anguish—morning after morning, week after week—as he watched her enter the department, seemingly without taking notice of him. Why would she? Charles was an ugly nobody.
Then, one night upon awakening from a dream—a dream in which Charles worked as a circus clown—he came up with the perfect solution. “I will dress up as a clown!” he exclaimed. “I will disguise my ugliness with the brilliant colors of a clown. I will cover my scarred up face with paint. I will figure out a way hide my nasty hair lip that exposes my gangly, yellow teeth; and paint a smile on my face.”
And so Charles spent many nights before the mirror, creating the most brilliant clown ensemble for himself. Now approaching his late twenties, his hair was terribly thinning—nearly bald. This was now masked by wearing a shaggy, blue clown wig that he managed to spike and fluff up so that it resembled one of those troll pencil toppers. His scarred and hideous face was entirely painted with the color pink; red-colored rose flowers and hearts painted on each cheek to symbolize his longing for romance. To rid himself of the nasty hair lip, Charles used costume clay to patch it up; and then used red paint to create a large smile. Finally, Charles dressed up in an outdated, oversized, green suit with blazer that was extra long. It was worn over a white shirt with obnoxious checkered neck tie. He looked, exactly, like a ridiculous clown.
On a Monday morning, Charles seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood at the cash register in his clown ensemble.
The young woman who resembled Stacy from years ago had her back turned for only a moment. When she turned back to the cash register, there was a clown standing before her. “Oh my gosh! What the…?”
“Hello there beautiful, young lady! I’m Lovey the Clown! He held out his white-gloved hand in a motion to shake.
Cautiously, the young woman fit her hand into his. “I’m Erin…” But before she could finish her sentence…
Something tickled and zapped Erin’s hand. “Aggggghhhhh! What was that?” she asked.
Lovey the Clown laughed, “I’m just full of gags like that!” Then he asked, “Did you say your name is Erin?”
“Erin; that’s a pretty name.”
“Well thank you!” Erin was unsure of how to react. Standing before her was a clown who—just like all clowns—found it necessary to pull obnoxious gags on people. But he also complimented her; greeted her as “beautiful, young lady” and then told Erin that her name is pretty. If she didn’t know any better, this clown was really sweet.
“I have something for you—just for you.” Lovey announced.
“What? What is it?” asked Erin.
Lovey reached into the inner pocket of his oversized, green blazer and pulled out a red rose.
“Awe… So sweet…” Erin’s heart nearly melted.
But just as she reached for it, a stream of cold water sprayed from the center of the flower.
“Ugggghhhh!” she exclaimed while wiping the water off her face.
“I’m the funniest clown you’ll ever get to know!”
“I don’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh!” Erin said. “But I think I’ll laugh. I need a little humor in my life. You’re a very, funny clown.”
“Well thank you.” said Lovey. Then Lovey did something that he thought he would never do—at least not for some weeks or even months. Perhaps it was the clown ensemble and the ability to hide behind his persona that provided him with the boldness. Lovey asked, “Well if you want to laugh some more, maybe you can give me your number. I’ll call you and give you plenty of great jokes!”
“Are you asking me for my number?” Erin asked.
Erin pushed the receipt feed on the cash register and tore off some blank paper. Then she wrote down her number. “Don’t call me at work!” she warned. “I can get in trouble. Call me in the late afternoon or in the evening when I’m home.”
“You’ve got it! And I’m honored to have the number of such a beautiful, young lady. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Erin…”
Later that night, Charles sat in his bedroom in just ordinary clothes and without the clown make-up. He spoke on the phone with his newfound friend who he hoped would soon be his girlfriend. But while speaking to Erin, Charles learned of her sad circumstance.
“...Yeah, my mom is terminally ill with COPD. She’s home on life support—a ventilator. Both my brother and sister moved out of state, and my father died a few years ago. It’s just me, all alone, to take care of my dying mother.”
“Awe… that’s sad… that’s very sad.” commented Charles. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
Erin continued, “Now you know what I mean when I said that I needed some humor in my life. I guess I could use a clown to cheer me up.”
“Well that’s what I’m going to do!” reassured Charles. “But you know, I was thinking; maybe you need more than just a clown to tell you jokes and make you laugh. Maybe you need to get out of the house for a few hours—have dinner and see a movie.”
“You mean like a date?” asked Erin.
“Yes, a date!”
“Sure…” agreed Erin. “When would you want to go out?”
“How about we go out this upcoming Friday night?” suggested Charles. “How about I pick you up at 7:00? I’ll think of something.”
“7:00 would be great!”
When Charles said that he would think of something, Erin might have interpreted this to mean that he would think of a place to go for dinner, and decide on the movie to see. But this is not what Charles meant. Charles was referring to picking her up. You see; although Charles has his driver’s license, he doesn’t own a car. He walks everywhere, even to work.
Charles still lives at home with his parents and entered the family room after ending his call with Erin.
“Yes, what it is, son?”
“I’ve got a date Friday night with a really, nice girl from work.”
“You do? What’s her name?”
“Well good for you!” congratulated Father. “Do you need some money?”
“No, I was going to ask if I could borrow the car.”
Father sighed, “Son, unfortunately your mother and I are going to a wedding reception on Friday night. I’d let you use the other car, but we only have one.”
Charles sighed, “Oh no… I hope I don’t have to cancel my date with Erin.”
“Well, maybe you can buy a car before Friday and take her out in that.” suggested Father.
“Hmm… I’ll have to think of something.”
Soon, Charles telephoned his good friend, Sam.
“Hello?” the voice of Sam greeted.
“Sam, this is Charles.”
“Hey man, what’s up?”
Charles began, “I need a favor.”
“Sure, what do you need?” asked Sam.
“I’ve got a date on Friday night. My Dad said I can’t use the car. Could I borrow yours?”
Sam sighed over the phone. “I’m afraid I can’t do that; not for Friday. Sherry and I are going to a concert. I need my car.” Then Sam thought of an idea. You see; he’s a garbage man, and has access to plenty of garbage trucks. Might he have been able to allow his good friend to borrow one for Friday night? “Hey…” began Sam. “You don’t mind what sort of vehicle that you take your date out in, do you?”
“No, anything is fine as long as it gets me from point A to point B.” answered Charles.
“Well if I show you how to drive one, would you be interested in borrowing a garbage truck?”
“A garbage truck?” asked Charles. “You mean one of those big and noisy trucks that pull up in front of the houses to collect garbage?”
“Yup!” answered Sam. “Are you interested?”
“Sure! It’s a little awkward, but maybe my date will get a kick out of it.”
“He’s a clown, Mom. That’s all I know about him.”
It was Friday evening, about 6:45 pm as Erin stood over her mother’s bed. Poor Mother was nearly lifeless as she lay there and listened to her daughter give the details of her Friday night date. Right near the bed, the annoying hum of the machine could be heard as it pumped and supplied necessary, life-sustaining oxygen to a terminally-ill COPD patient.
 “... a clown… a clown is coming here…? Mother whispered through the oxygen mask.
“That’s what he does… I think…” answered Erin.
“... you think…?”
“I don’t know, Mother!” argued Erin. “He’s just a guy who is taking me out on a date. It’s just a date, nothing serious! Can’t I go out on a simple date?”
“... but he’s a clown…”
“So!” snapped Erin.
“... you shouldn’t trust clowns… they hide their evil intentions by being funny…”
“Oh Mother! You’re crazy, you know that?”
With a shaky hand and finger, Mother weakly gestured her daughter to come closer. “... come here…”
Erin did as her mother ordered. “What, what is it?”
“... please don’t stay out late… come home at a decent time…”
“I promise, Mom. I’ll be home before midnight.”
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
“It’s him!” exclaimed Erin. She dashed out of the bedroom, down the hallway and over to the front door.
From the bedroom, Mother listened carefully.
Oh my gosh! You wore your clown costume…! Come on in… Meet my mother…
Seconds later, in walked Erin with A CLOWN following behind her.
“... good heavens…” whispered Mother behind the oxygen mask.
“Well hello there beautiful, young lady I’m Lovey the Clown!”
“... save your flattery…” whispered Mother. Terminally ill, she wasn’t feeling so young and beautiful.
“Can I call you, Mom?” asked Lovey.
“... I never gave birth to a clown…” whispered Mother.
“Oh Mother! Don’t be so grumpy!” argued Erin. Then she looked over to the clown. “Come on, Lovey. Let’s get going.”
“Sure thing!”
And with that, both Erin and Lovey the Clown left the room.
But seconds later, the clown danced and pranced back into the bedroom and rushed over to Mother’s bed. He brought his face close to hers and reassured, “Don’t you worry about a thing! I’ll have her home before midnight!” He quickly turned and dashed out of the bedroom. But while doing so, Lovey tripped over the fish hose that ran from the oxygen machine to the mask on Mother’s face. This pulled the hose out from the machine which meant that Mother would no longer receive her much-needed oxygen.
At first Mother didn’t realize what the clown had done. It wasn’t until the front door closed—Erin out for the evening—that she began to feel the effects of lacking oxygen. “... what…? She turned her face over towards the machine and could see the hose yanked out. “... help… help…” she whispered. Mother was too weak to sit up let alone try and repair the yanked-out house. “... help… Erin… I should have never trusted a clown…”
Meanwhile, outside, Erin laughed and laughed at the sight of Lovey’s crazy ride—a garbage truck. The engine noisily rattled and clunked as it sat parked in the street.
“We’ll be cruising in style, tonight!” boldly declared Lovey. “Come-on, let’s check this baby out!” Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and motioned Erin to climb aboard. But before she put her foot on the ladder, Lovey stopped her. “Wait! I feel like dancing, don’t you?”
“Dancing?” asked Erin with a queer expression.
“Sure! I just so happen to have a transportable dance floor for us. Come-on!” He motioned Erin to the back of the garbage truck where he pushed the hydraulic control lever to lower the packer blade from the trash hopper. Inside, there was an illuminated, battery-operated disco ball hanging from the ceiling. On the floor was a retro, portable stereo which might have been referred to as a “ghetto blaster” back in its day.
Lovey climbed into the hopper and pressed the play button on the tape deck. He began to dance at the sound of the music.
Outside the hopper, Erin laughed at the crazy clown who actually converted a garbage truck into his own, personal nightclub. How was all of this possible? Where did he get his hands on a garbage truck?
“Come on in!” shouted Lovey. “Let’s dance!”
At first, Erin hesitated. She shook her head and pushed her hands out in an effort to communicate, no.
“Come on!” urged Lovey. “It’s fun! You’ve got to get used to doing crazy stuff like this!”
Erin shrugged her shoulders, smiled and then carefully climbed into the hopper to be with Lovey. Soon the two danced. They danced and danced like never before.
About ten minutes passed when Lovey suggested, “You want something to drink?”
“What?” shouted Erin over the music.
“Do you want me to go to the bar and get something to drink?”
Dumbfounded, Erin stared at the clown for about a second. “Sure…”
Lovey climbed out of the hopper and left his date inside. He only intended on going up to the front of the truck to grab Erin a drink. But then something bad happened. While climbing down, his foot pressed the hydraulic control lever which began to move the large packer blade inside and towards the back.
“Oh no! Stop!” shouted Lovey as he struggled with the hydraulic controls.
A jolt of adrenaline and fear spiked through Erin’s veins as she realized that the situation had become dangerous “Hey!” she screamed while running towards the front. But it was too late! The large packer blade took up the entire entrance of the hopper and continued to move towards the back. If it continued moving, Erin would be crushed to death!
Desperately, Lovey tried to stop and reverse the packer blade. But there was something wrong. One might think that simply shifting the hydraulic control in the opposite direction would reverse the blade. But the control was apparently under some sort of automatic reset in which the packer blade would make an entire sweep inwards and then out.
“STOP! STOP!” Lovey cried out while running up to the front of the garbage truck. He reached up to the driver console and turned the engine off. But wouldn’t you know it? For some reason, the hopper and packer blade were under battery control. The blade continued to move deeply inwards until it stopped on its own volition. Then it reversed and inched its way out and to the back.
Horrified, Lovey observed the mangled and crushed remains of Erin mixed with a smashed ghetto blaster and battery operated disco light.
The following morning, the news reported the shocking report to the world. “Police walked into a gruesome murder last night. They say that a man dressed up as a clown entered an elderly woman’s home who was terminally-ill with COPD. He apparently removed the hose from an oxygen supply pump, effectively killing her. Then he murdered her daughter by crushing her to death in the back of a garbage truck. Police say it’s the most bizarre clown-style murder that they have ever seen.


Friday, November 14, 2014

Body Massage from the Cableman

Hello All:
Throughout the 1950s, occultist George Adamski made wide-spread accounts of his interactions with beings from other planets that he coined as the space brothers (and sisters). As he described; they were direct decedents of the lost, ancient continents of Atlantis and Lemuria. Technologically advanced and described as nearly magickal, these space brothers/sisters were sometimes hundreds of years old without any traces of aging. Their bodies were perfect and very youthful.
Today we know that George Adamski knew only part of the truth of this civilization from other worlds. Today we know that he was describing the Lyran species of humanoids which are very common throughout universe--including Earth (humans).
But what about these claims of maintaining youth and perfection? And what about the so-called space sisters who were, and continue to be, reported as being heart-stopingly beautiful. Surely Earth women wish they knew the secret. Space sisters, after all, are nothing out-of-the-ordinary. They are, exactly, like Earth women.

Perhaps this short You Tube video might give us a glimpse as to what a woman's workout routine might look like on some other planet.
Dancette by Rykard: Ladies, are you wishing you knew the secret of how space sisters maintain their gorgeous bodies? This 5:06 video is like an interstellar camera that reveals a daily space sister workout routine on other planets. I had no idea that women could do these things with their bodies! Guaranteed: integrate this sizzling, cosmic yoga into your workouts; you'll be ready to compete with hottest space sisters throughout the galaxy! And that's no joke! WATCH VIDEO

Today's featured writing is a Cableman story. It's from a time shortly before he was inducted into the whole space brother/sister cult thing.
Have a great weekend! Enjoy the cosmic Aerobicise.

Body Massage from the Cableman
By now you’ve  come to know the Cableman as the knight in shining armour who visits lonely women throughout the day to care for their needs. Not only is he expected to install cable or troubleshoot poor picture quality, but he must often satisfy sex starved women who might be experiencing a bad streak with romance.  Some customers have complex needs and might not immediately recognize what it is they want the Cableman to do. But they soon realize what he’s there for. And despite how challenging these women are, the Cableman always delivers!
Although still on the cool side, spring was definitely in the air as the Cableman drove to his next job on a midmorning Friday. Hopefully this visit wouldn’t take too long and he could catch an early lunch; maybe even head over to the gym afterwards.
The Cableman drove down the final stretch or neighborhood streets and slowed down while nearing the customer’s house. When found, he immediately parallel parked the van in front of the home. He stepped out, walked to the back and reached for a safety cone to place behind the vehicle.
Inside the house, Mary Ann watched as the Cableman clicked his steel-toed work boots up the driveway with company uniform and tools dangling from the waist. Should she have changed into some regular clothes? Workout completed a couple hours ago, Mary Ann remained in nothing more than her tight, black yoga shorts with matching tight, black halter top. Mary Ann was one of those women with a phenomenal ass that some might consider to be disproportionate to her body. Following her new exercise regimen since January 1st, Mary Ann lost a considerable amount of weight, slimmed down her tummy and toned her arms and legs. But her buttocks remained on the slightly large size—not fat, messy and plumpy; but round and bubble like with an appealing jiggle. A real man wishes for a woman with an ass like this. There was nothing wrong with Mary Ann’s ass! It stuck out and called for attention. It looked especially delicious in tight, yoga shorts.
The doorbell rang and Mary Ann pranced across the floor in her bare feet to answer it. There stood the handsome, muscular Cableman who looked equally delighted to see her.
“Hi, I’m here to install an additional cable outlet.”
“Yes come in!”
It was difficult for the Cableman not to appear obvious in checking out the customer. Let’s face it; Mary Ann was practically naked before the Cableman. Middle-aged with sexy wrinkles near the mouth that showed when smiling; she had warm, friendly, blue eyes and long, light-colored hair that draped along her sexy, bare shoulders and back. Just in the way that it brushed her skin seemed to invite sensual caressing and kisses. Mary Ann’s chest was intricately decorated with spots and freckles—a unique pattern brought on by many summers in the sun and definitely something to perk interest in what lies beneath the halter top.
“I need the outlet in here.” Mary Ann motioned the Cableman to follow. While leading, she could sense his eyes all over her appealing, disproportionate ass along with bare thighs that were toned so nicely from the workouts. She led the Cableman in a sizable room with hardwood floors, a large exercise mat and some dumbbells with a weight bench. Near the window was an elliptical stair climber. A small TV sat on table on the opposite wall.
“I got this new stair machine and want to use it while watching my favorite shows. Is it possible to put an outlet in here?”
Was it possible for the Cableman to install an outlet in Mary Ann’s workout room? The Cableman can do anything! “Yes, of course! I’ll get started on it.”
“Oh good!” Mary Ann was delighted to hear this. “There’s a cable outlet on the wall. I think it’s wired to the incoming cable in the basement.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed the Cableman. Your house is prewired for cable. I’ll get everything connected and have your TV hooked up in a few minutes.”
Mary Ann escorted the Cableman into the basement where the connections were located.
The Cableman immediately went right to work as it would appear that the customer was only in need for an additional outlet. If anything, the woman merely provided a little eye-candy for the morning. This would be a quick install for the Cableman.
But what was this? Some moments later after the Cableman made his connections in the basement, he returned to Mary Ann’s workout room to discover her sitting on the excercise mat. She remained in the tight yoga shorts with matching halter top. And she appeared to be doing leg stretches; leaning forward and clearly displaying the upper half of her breasts and cleavage. Mary Ann’s breasts appeared to be designed with the same intricate, freckles as the rest of her chest. It was a heartstopping sight to say the least.
Aware of the Cableman’s presence, Mary Ann looked up and nearly melted him with her warm and friendly eyes. One could nearly smell the pharemones from her light-colored hair drifting across the room. Was the customer in need of something else?
“We’re almost done.” informed the Cableman. “I just want to check your picture quality and make sure everything is good.”
“No problem...” reassured Mary Ann. “There’s no rush. I hope I’m not in the way. I thought my legs were in good shape until I got the new stair machine. I’m trying to stretch them out. They’re so sore.”
The Cableman maintained small talk with the customer. “Yup, that’ll happen. You change something with your workout and you get thrown back to square one.”
While the Cableman adjusted the channels on the TV, Mary Ann quietly walked over to a small shelf and grabbed a foam workout roller. She returned to the exercise mat and slowly rolled it over the top of her thighs while studying the Cableman.
The Cableman must have sensed something, for he turned around and finally took notice of the increasingly-sexy customer, seductively massaging the foam roller over her bare thighs. The sight startled the Cableman which left him no choice but to exclaim, “There you go! That’ll work.”
Mary Ann laughed. “I wish I could get the backs of my thighs. Too bad I didn’t have someone to roll this over them.”
The Cableman immediately offered him assistance by walking over, “You want me to massage you with that thing?”
Mary Ann cautiously smiled in return. It was what she wanted. But was it really a good idea? “Sure...” She rolled over and laid on her stomach. Light-colored hair now lay freely on the floor as Mary Ann’s exposed back, shoulders, bubble ass and sexy thighs presented themselves for the Cableman’s exploration.
What should the Cableman have gone after, first? The customer needed her thighs massaged, so he knelt down on the side and began to slowly roll sensual relief to Mary Ann’s aching muscles.
“Mmmmm... That feels good!” Mary Ann nearly moaned.
“You like that?” asked the Cableman. “Sometimes you need a little massage after a workout.” The foam roller moved up and down the backs Mary Ann’s thighs. So silky and appearing soft, her thighs were remarkably toned and firm. The Cableman wished to roll a bit harder, but didn’t want to cause discomfort for the customer. For the time being, he slowly rolled from the top of her thighs—just below the ass—and all the way down to Mary Ann’s achilles tendon. On the way to the bottom, the Cableman studied the beauty and curve of Mary Ann’s calves and also took notice of how sexy her naked feet were. Then it was back up the legs and to the bottom of the ass.
Now that ass was absolutley incredible! After some moments of working up and down Mary Ann’s thighs and legs, the Cableman took it upon himself to move the foam roller onto her butt cheeks.
At first this took Mary Ann by surprise as she lifted her head up and momentarily looked behind. Should she have been outraged and interpreted the bold move as an assault? Or should she have admitted to herself of wanting the Cableman to do this all along. Despite how beautiful and sexy she was, Mary Ann was surprisingly lonely and sex starved. She really needed some sexual attention for the morning and simply laid her head back down.
“Mmmmm... that feels good…”
“Does the stair machine make your butt sore as well?”
“Not as much as my thighs, but my butt feels it.”
The Cableman continued to roll up and down that gorgeous, disproportiante, bubble ass. He applied an extra amount of pressure to simply enjoy the sight of it being squashed and moved around. Playing with a customer’s beautiful ass was an excellent way to spend a midmorning in spring.
Could he feel more if wanted? To test this, he further rolled up the customer’s back.
All the while, Mary Ann exclaimed, “Ah, you know all the right things to do...”
The Cableman worked the foam roller into the customer’s back while eyeing her bare shoulders and exposed upper back. How he longed to touch those areas with his own hands, maybe even feel the customer’s sexy hair.
To suggest the need to finally touch her, the Cableman half heartedly attempted to massage the large roller on Mary Ann’s shoulders. But it was too big and clumsy for such complicated maneuvers. This left him no choice but to set the foam roller on the floor and then take hold of both bare shoulders for a firm, yet, gentle squeeze.
The Cableman’s fingertips massaged and worked their way into Mary Ann’s skin and muscle. She felt just as he imagined, soft and silky. And as long as he was massaging her bare shoulders, it wasn’t such a bad idea to work his hands down Mary Ann’s triceps and forearms. The Cableman didn’t hesitate with her hands, either. Why is it that uniting hands and communicating pleasure through stroking and massaging can be so sexy?
Gradually returning to Mary Ann’s shoulders, the Cableman enjoyed every moment of rubbing the customer’s exposed back. He thoroughly worked the blades of his hands along the sides of her spine and then applied massaging pressure to the lower back with the heels of his hands.
And like the creamy filling of a pastry or the frosting on the cake, the Cableman was sure to feel Mary Ann’s ass. He began by firmly working the heels of his hands along the sides of her hips and then gradually worked his way up to her butt cheeks. Each cheek was simultaneously given firm squeezes with both the Cableman’s fingertips and palms. He could have played with that ass all morning, but didn’t want to overdo it. Eventually the massage returned to the customer’s bare, sexy thighs and calves.
Mary Ann was putty in the Cableman’s hands. She was so relaxed and allowed him to maneuver her legs by slowly bending them. Of course he was sure to rest one of the hands on her bare thigh while doing this for support. At some point, the Cableman began to massage the customer’s sexy feet. Mary Ann was in pure Heaven!
But she wanted more! To reveal this, Mary Ann rolled over on her back and smiled at the Cableman while melting him with her warm and friendly, blue eyes.
Why not start by massaging her temples and forehead? This is what the Cableman did by delicately applying pressure with his thumbs and fingertips. Pretty faces, afterall, need to be gently massaged like the rest of the body.
Mary Ann loved every bit of it and smiled out of pleasure in such a way that sexy wrinkles formed around her mouth. This, of course, drew attention to her lips which further arroused a need in the Cableman to kiss her. But he continued to massage Mary Ann’s face... to her shoulders... and down the fronts of Mary Ann’s arms. More intimate communication of pleasure was provided by manipulating the muscles of her hands.
At some point, the Cableman noticed the customer’s nipples protruding through her tight halter top. Should he have massaged Mary Ann’s breasts as well? To remain respectful and hopefully not ruin a nice moment, the Cableman simply massaged the top of her chest and then lightly squeezed the base of Mary Ann’s breasts. She didn’t seem to mind. But the Cableman wasn’t going push his luck and fondle her entire breasts.
Finally, the Cableman provided additional massaging to the fronts of Mary Ann’s thighs and then gave more pleasure to her feet while taking notice of the beautiful camel toe wedged in the crotch of her tight, black yoga pants.
For all practical purposes, the post workout body massage was complete, and the Cableman’s original purpose for visiting was fulfilled as well. But Mary Ann wasn’t ready for him to leave just yet. She lay there on the excercise mat with that desireous look in her eyes that spoke of a need for something more. And this is why the Cableman finally lay beside Mary Ann as she turned on her side to face him. The two looked into one another’s eyes for a moment while the Cableman continued to touch and explore Mary Ann’s bare shoulders and playing with her sexy hair. Then he finally kissed her, slowly and carefully, savoring every bit of softness and warmth from her lips.
The two lay there for quite a few minutes, just making out while the Cableman continued to touch and explore to his heart’s content. At some point he lifted and removed Mary Ann’s tight, black halter top to finally expose her naked breasts. They they were—nipples and all—naked, free and eager to be touched.
Mary Ann was sure to unbutton and open the Cableman’s company shirt which exposed his chiseled pectorals and six-pack abdomen. She even did the same with his work jeans; unzipped them to suggest discovering what was underneath.
It was certainly fair game, so the Cableman reached down to the customer’s crotch and felt her fascinating camel toe. It’s always a pleasure to touch a woman’s kitten, directly; but camel toe in tight yoga shorts has a certain sexiness that must be appreciated. This is why he continued to fondle and trace the outlines of her vulva, labia and clitoris.
Mary Ann’s boyfriend had broken up with her just before New Years Eve. And how good it felt to finally have man giving so much attention and taking care of her needs. She continued to return sexy, wet kisses; sometimes reaching down to feel the hard bulge in the Cableman’s unbuttoned and unzipped pants.

This was an invitation for the Cableman to pull out finally expose his erection. He placed it against the crotch of Mary Ann’s yoga pants and slid it up and down the camel toe. Both were crazy from the extended foreplay and needed to make the final connections. But they continued to lay there on the mat just dry humping. The Cableman was going to have to forget about that workout. The midmorning job turned out to be longer than expected!