Priče

Sve što je vrijedno čitanja, gledanja i slušanja podijelite s nama ili pak iznesite svoje žestoke kritike istog.
str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 23 lis 2012 21:46

Moja baba - Moje dete

Videla sam nečiju baku kako pretrčava ulicu na par metara od pešačkog prelaza. Pala je u nesvest na sredini prelaza, saobraćaj se zaustavio, ljudi su joj pomogli da ustane i da pređe na drugu stranu. Žure bake često, jer misle kako nemaju vremena, a tako ga upravo skraćuju. Tačnije veće su šanse da ga skrate. Tako da sam ja čim sam stigla kući razgovarala sa mojom.
-Baba jel prelaziš ti ulicu van pešačkog prelaza?
-Ja? Pa ja to ne bih uradila nikada. Znam da ima tih guski koje trčkaraju svuda mrzi ih da odu na serafom. Ja kažem ŽENO ENO TI TAMO PREĐI. Nedokazne babe, lude žene. Gde ona žuri molim te, ja lepo krenem dok još nije toplo pa polako i sve stignem.
-Videla sam jednu baku danas skoro da je poginula, pretrčavala je put.
-PRETRČAVALA? A joj ja nisam potrčala od rata. Niti imam nameru. Ja da trčim? Dobro da li ti ja delujem kao neko ko može da trči. Blago njoj kad još može.
-Dobro hoćeš me pustiti da ti ispričam do kraja?
-Ma ne zanima me, poremećeni fiju fiju ljudi me ne zanimaju. Ja ti se lepo družim sa Natašom, ona i ja nikada nismo pravile gluposti, pa nismo deca. Dobro jednom je Nataša bacila žvaku u travu, i šta žvaće žvaku meni se zalepi za protezu ali njoj je muž kupio zube u Nemačkoj kad je živela ona može da žvaće i traktorsku gumu. Jesi gladna?
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 23 lis 2012 21:48

Pe eM eS

Ulazim u kuću nervozna, umorna, pokisla, gunđam od kad sam počela da se približavam zgradi. Bacam stvari u sobu, i odlazim u kupatilo, zadržavam se na ogledalu 10 minuta, gledam se, plače mi se. Baba ulazi u kupatilo, seda na wc šolju i kreće: Znam da ne mogu da te oraspoložim ti, ženo u PMS-u, ali da ti kažem, jednoga dana nećeš više imati PMS i nedostajaće ti. Znaš li ti da ja nemam nikakve emocije. Mene ništa ne može da rasplače, ne može ništa da me iznervira, dobro, može da me usreći. Dakle jedino što ja mogu da osećam su ravnodušnost i sreća, i ljubav prema tebi, naravno. A znaš li koliko bih volela da recimo sada počnem da se nerviram zato što se nisam dobro ofarbala, što me boli koleno od kad sam ustala zbog ove kiše, što nemam para da kupim aparat za kokanje kokica, što mi je zagoreo ručak, što mi je jedna sisa veća od druge... Ja mogu samo da ti pričam o tome šta mislim, i možda bih ti delovala iznervirano zbog toga, ali zapravo sam ravnodušna. Nemam šta da izgubim, a volela bih da mislim da imam svašta da izgubim, kako mi fali taj osećaj da ću izgubiti nešto, da će nešto proći, fali mi da sam nestrpljiva, da nešto ne mogu da dočekam. Moraš Mia da uživaš u tome.
Staje iza mene, stavlja mi ruke na ramena i nastavlja: Lepa si, pogledaj koliko si lepa. Mlada i lepa. Mia to je sve što ti treba. Sve ostalo u životu je sranje osim pišanja. A vidi i te tvoje oči, pune su vode i kad ne plačeš, pa ej, neko bi ubio za takav pogled. Diši duboko samo, i pokušaj da uživaš u svakom osećanju u sebi, i u lepim osećanjima i u ružnim, jer ti osećaš dušo moja, i to je divno. Znam da si gladna, napravila sam ti krofne.
Smejem se, i klimam glavom.
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 23 lis 2012 21:50

Rečnik

Pateta - Tapeta
Sektembar - Septembar
Oktombar - Oktobar
Konfli - Pomfrit
Kemil naural bul - Kamel natural blu
Piksni - Fiksni
Jesi gladna? - Kako si? Šta ima novo?
Nemam para - Nije bila penzija
Imam 500 dinara - Bila je penzija ali sam posle otišla kod kineza
Samo obuci bodi - Nemoj da piješ, pušiš i drogiraš se
Jesi gladna? - Zašto si nervozna?
Kupiće ti baka - Pusti budalu
Neću reći mami ništa - Već sam joj sve rekla
Koliko je sati? - Ne idem danas kod lekara
Jesi gladna? - Volim te
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 23 lis 2012 22:43

blizanci ...dječak i djevojčica...na 18 rođendan otkrivaju obiteljsku tajnu...na susjednu framu se doseljavaju novi susjedi i djevojka pronalazi novu prijateljicu nakon odlaska brata

~ Going Home ~
by C. E. Gray

Stacey answered my knock at the door, and smiled when she saw me. She was tall, with hazel eyes and blonde hair. We were the same age, and had I been in high school, we probably would have had a few of the same classes our senior year. She had lived in Montana since she was a few months old, and we shared a love of the land, among many other things. She was one of the few people outside of my family that knew about my dyslexia. She knew, and didn't care in the slightest. We'd been friends for seventeen years, to hear our parents tell it.

"Muffin!" she greeted, throwing her arms around me. I chuckled. I never understood the reasoning behind half the random names she called me, but I usually replied similarly. It was a banter we'd started years ago.

I returned the hug. "Hey, cookie. I hear you've got my cat."

"Sure do. Come on in." She closed the door softly behind me. "Mom's out with Mr. Benton again, I swear he worries worse than you do about his animals." I chuckled, and followed her through the house to the room where the animals were kept once they were healthy.

I smiled upon seeing the golden ball of fur that was Rhett. "Hey, guy," I said, crouching down to stare in the cage. Yellow eyes blinked back at me as he yawned, getting to his feet when he sensed that he was going to be let out.

"Here, I'll get him," Stacey said, opening the door to the cage and gently pulling him out. I held open the door to the cat carrier and she placed him inside, but only after I'd ran my hand down his back, assuring myself that he really was healed.

Setting the carrier on the ground by the front door, I asked, "How much do I owe your mom?"

Stacey laughed. "Oh, AJ, don't you worry about it," she said, imitating her mother perfectly. "Really, though, it's all right. Just come over and have dinner again some time, okay? It's been too long since we've just hung out together."

I nodded. "Yeah, it has. I'll call you next week and we can get together, all right, schnookums?"

"That sounds great. Hey, did you hear about the new family that bought the Tops' land?" When I nodded and mentioned that I'd met the daughter, she prodded me into telling the tale of how and when and what happened, and then gave me a half-grin.

"AJ, you sweetheart, you," she teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Please. I took the girl home. Everyone's acting like it's something to celebrate. I keep expecting my mom to make me a medal or something," I sighed, and my friend smiled a bit at my discomfort.

"You just can't handle that you're the center of attention for once, huh? You did something nice, AJ. I'm so proud of you," came the mock praise, and I shook my head as she hugged me again.

"Don't forget to call, hon," she reminded, seeing me out the door. "I'll come and hunt you down if I don't hear from you by Thursday."

I chuckled. "We don't want that, do we? I'll call you later, Stacey. Thanks again." She waved as I pulled away, Rhett safely in the passenger seat of my truck. I talked to him on the ten minute drive back, telling him that Scarlet would surely be glad to have him back, as we all would. I mentioned that Hamlet missed him, too, though he would be the last to admit it.

I spent a few minutes with Rhett before releasing him to the rest of the house, laughing to myself as I heard Hamlet screech his own greeting to the cat. Scarlet sniffed him animatedly, interested by all the new smells. Except for two small patches where he was missing some fur - it had been shaved by Dr. Lisa, I assumed, to better view the bites - he seemed just fine. The phone rang, and I jumped, answering it quickly.

"Oh, hi, mom."

"Hello, AJ. Have you brought Rhett home?"

I smiled. "Yes. Actually, Scarlet is welcoming him back right now."

I could hear her repeat the news to my father, who replied he was glad to hear it. "Your father and I are going to have dinner in town, and your brother will be staying out with his girlfriend, so you have the house to yourself for most of the night. Sure you don't need anything, honey?"

"I'll be fine. I'll feed the horses tonight, and see you two later. Have fun," I grinned, and hung up. It had been quite a while since my parents had gone out on anything that could even be remotely considered a date, and I was glad they decided to take some time for themselves.

The phone rang again just a second or two later, and I wondered what my mother had forgotten to tell me. "Whatever it is, I'll take care of it," I said, and was met with a gentle laugh.

"Promises, promises," chuckled Kevyn, and I flushed.

"Oh, I, um, I thought you were my mom."

"Now that's the first time I've heard that one."

I swallowed, embarrassed. "I mean, she just called and I thought, you know, maybe she'd forgotten something," I explained, trying to calm my stammering.

"Uh-huh. Well, I was just calling to see what you were doing tonight. I think my dad wants to invite you over to dinner, and then maybe we could go riding tomorrow."

I grinned. "I've got to take care of the horses tonight, but after that's done, I'm sure I can come by," I said. "I'd love to stop over for dinner. Tell your dad thank you."

She laughed again, something I began to realize she did often? or maybe I just amused her. I found I didn't mind either way.

"He didn't actually invite you, yet. I just figured I'd beat him to the punch."

"I suppose I should thank you, then. Thank you."

She smiled - and there was that damned tingling sensation again, coming from where I couldn't pinpoint? and over the phone? damn! - and said, "You're very welcome. So I'll see you at seven-thirty?"

"See you then." I set the phone back on the receiver and sighed. "Two dinner invitations in the same day. Lucky me."

I was looking forward to the dinner, and yet dreaded it at the same time. I had a feeling that even if I could manage to go without making a fool out of myself, I wasn't sure if I could handle all the attention I was going to receive. Seven o'clock rolled around quickly. I'd already called my parents to let them know where I'd be in case they needed to get a hold of me, fed the horses, and now stood in front of the mirror in my room. I was suddenly nervous about what to wear? that was new to me. I normally didn't care what I wore so long as it was comfortable. Standing there in my black jeans, white T-shirt, and black long-sleeved over-shirt, I braided my hair, and looked again. Still not good enough. I grabbed the black cowboy hat from my dresser and grinned. Much better. Then I remembered my boots were still by the front door, a bit dirty from my time in the mud.

"Crap," I muttered, and ran downstairs. Taking a brush from under the sink, I cleaned the dirt off as best I could, and slipped them on. It was seven-twenty. I had to go! I rushed out the door and climbed into my truck, driving towards the Gibb house. It was no longer the Tops' land, not to me.

I pulled up five minutes early, and stole a quick glance at myself in the rearview mirror. I couldn't figure out why it was so important that I look good, except that I wanted to impress my new friend and her parents? as if helping her find her way back home wasn't enough. Kevyn opened the door and met me at my truck as I stepped out, and no less than a half-dozen dogs followed.

"AJ, you made it!" she smiled, and hugged me briefly, startling me with the gesture. The dogs sniffed over my shoes and at my pant legs.

"Of course," I said, speaking to Kevyn although I had my hand outstretched to the nearest dog. "I wasn't expecting such a welcome."

"I'll introduce you to these guys later. Come on in, my parents can't wait to meet you." She took my hand and led me inside, as I gave a little mental sigh.

It starts?

Her parents were altogether very nice. Mr. Gibb, though he asked me to call him Patrick, was an art dealer before he moved to Montana. He was middle-aged, with the slightly rounded stomach to prove it. No gray hair yet, and his thick brown hair didn't show any signs of receding any time soon. His deep green eyes gave an excellent indication of his mood, lighting up whenever he looked at his family, clouding with the fight of a masked pain when his wife's illness made itself known. Kevyn's mother, Diane, had worked as an elementary school teacher until the cancer got too bad. She explained that all of the random cards I would see around the house, made of construction paper with colored stamps or macaroni and a generous amount of crayon for decoration, were from some of her students. They were all get well cards, and some continued sending them, even after they'd moved to Montana. I repeated what I had told Kevyn of Montana being an amazing place, and received three smiles that said while they appreciated my generous attempt, they didn't believe it for a second. If it weren't for the telltale signs of chemotherapy, I almost wouldn't have noticed that Diane was sick. She ate very little of our meal, a fact which seemed to bother Kevyn, and although it was plenty warm in the house, wore a sweatshirt and never removed the knitted cap from her head. Her skin was pale and I'm sure her golden-green eyes, a beautiful color combination that she'd shared with her daughter, were bright and sparkling at one time. Now, however, most of the sparkle had dimmed. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, and she shared loving glances with her husband and daughter. Everyone seemed to feel her time was near. So strong was the atmosphere, I wondered if I'd been invited for the last supper. I offered to help clear the table and wash the dishes after we'd all finished eating. Initially, Patrick said he wouldn't hear of it, and Kevyn agreed. Then, Diane asked her husband to help her back to bed.

"I'm sorry I can't stay, I'm just so tired lately. It was nice to meet you, AJ," she said, and I smiled gently, mildly concerned as Kevyn darted into the kitchen with her plate.

"Not at all, Diane. You get some rest. And the pleasure is all mine, believe me. Have a good night." The stout Mr. Gibb led her slowly down the hall, her frame thin and fragile beside his own, and I found my way into the kitchen.

Kevyn didn't seem to hear me approach, so intent she was on scrubbing the dishes.

"Do you want some help?" I asked, turning my hat in my hands nervously before setting it on the counter. What was it about her that always got me so flustered?

Though the red-haired girl shook her head in the negative, I saw her shoulders shake and heard her breathing hitch. Aw, damn. She's crying, I realized, biting my lip as I wondered if there were any way for me to make her feel better, or if I should just leave. Moving beside her, I began rinsing the dishes she had washed, saying nothing. We stood like that for a few moments before she glanced up at me, giving me a watery grin. I returned the smile, and gently bumped her shoulder with mine.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, wiping at her eyes when the dishes had been dried and put away. "I just always seem to be crying around you. You always manage to catch me at my worst."

I shook my head, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, just a few inches from her. We had moved to her bedroom where she was telling me the names of all her dogs, and I hoped I wasn't going to be expected to remember them all.

"No, not your worst," I corrected, gently, "there's nothing wrong with crying. I just wish there was something I could do to help," came the admission, before I could stop it.

She reached out and took my hand in hers. "You are helping, AJ." When I looked doubtful, she continued, "I'm glad you're here. Really."

I smiled, and she squeezed my hand. Then she interlocked her fingers with mine, and I blinked when I realized we were holding hands. I was tempted to pull back, if only for the sudden increase in my heart rate, but stopped. She needed my presence, I knew. Kevyn saw my hesitation and interpreted it another way.

"I'm sorry," she said, starting to take her hand back, but I held fast. Green eyes met mine slowly.

"It's all right," I said, and attempted to reassure her with a soft smile. "It's all right. I don't mind." I got another smile for that, and then we fell silent, both lost in our own thoughts. I suppose that's why I hadn't realized we'd drifted closer, our shoulders now touching. Nor did I take in the fact that her thumb had begun tracing light patterns across the back of my hand. Even if I had, I'm sure I would have shrugged it off to her need to be comforted, to feel close to someone. What was wrong with that, right?

"So, tell me about yourself," she said, and I took a few breaths as I brought myself out of my thoughts.

I chuckled softly. "Not a whole lot to tell. I've lived here all my life, worked on the ranch with my dad when I wasn't in school, and tried to survive sleeping in the same house as my brother."

She smiled. "Must be nice to have a brother," she commented, and I snorted.

"Yeah, he's all right. He can be a pain, but all around, I can't complain too much. But what about you? I've never been to California. What's it like?"

Her voice gentle and low, she told me of her life. She was born in California, she said, an only child. She'd been raised in San Francisco, and loved the bustle of the city, but quickly amended that statement by adding 'but I could get used to the quiet of the country, too' when she saw my raised eyebrow. It was an interesting place to grow up, from what I gathered, all the activity and diverse population. And that bridge sounded wonderful.

"But then my mom got sick," she continued, "and we moved out here. The doctors, they told us there was nothing they could do for her, so it was best just to make her comfortable, until?" She sniffled, and I didn't even have to look at her to tell she was crying again. She turned, burying her head in my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around her before I could even think about doing anything otherwise.

Kevyn tucked her head under my chin as if it were the most natural thing in the world and snuggled closer. I clenched my jaw, praying she couldn't hear how fast my heart was beating, and gently rubbed her back in slow circles. I couldn't figure out why having her so close was sending my pulse through the roof, but I didn't want her to leave. That much I did know. She needed me, needed me to be strong. The last thing I wanted was for her to worry that she was freaking me out and pull away.

"Shh," I soothed, holding her close. I never said any real words, I don't think, I just muttered nonsense phrases that I hoped were comforting. Her breathing steadied out eventually, and I took a quick glance at her to see if she'd stopped crying.

Oh, yeah, she stopped crying, all right, I smiled to myself. She had fallen asleep in my arms. Not stopping to ponder why that statement sounded so nice, I moved away from her gently, lying her back on her bed. Hoping she was asleep enough for my movements not to disturb her, I removed her shoes, and then covered her with a blanket from the foot of her bed. The dogs raised their heads at me when I left, the five that were in the room, and I walked past on my tiptoes. I wanted to write a quick note thanking them for their hospitality and a fine dinner, since I didn't run into Patrick on my way out the door, and growled again at my inability to do so. I didn't want to let on that I was dyslexic? Kevyn was smart, that was sure to make her feel pity towards me, and I didn't want that at all. So, I let myself out quietly. I drove back to my house without so much as the radio on, concentrating instead on the thoughts and images running through my mind, too numerous to catch one and bring it into focus. My brain and my heart refusing to work anything out that night, I fell into bed with a sigh, noticing my parents had yet to return, and slept peacefully. I dreamt of beauty, of a large bridge out in the middle of my land, Kevyn on one side with me on the other. She was calling to me, but I couldn't figure out how to get across. I was scared, I realized. I'd never crossed a bridge before. I don't think I'd even seen one. But I heard her words, and they gave me courage, and I took my first step onto the structure, shaky as my legs were. I awoke gradually as it faded away, anticipating our ride later in the day with much enthusiasm.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ce_cray_going_home1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 24 lis 2012 22:28

tajne agentice...UN ...sukob na Tibetu...rat u Hrvatskoj ...Rendezvous in Nepal, Return To Vukovar

Rendezvous in Nepal
by GlasOwl

That wasn't the last time the question was put to her. The hard-eyed men who arrived soon after were angry at losing their quarry. They had no intention of taking Kelly's denials and explanations at face value. They bundled her into a car and drove her somewhere in the dark. After a long drive through the night, Kelly had no idea where the room was, the room with a very bright light, a bench, a chair, and a desk. Kelly concentrated on the walls. Plaster and paint had built up generations of layers that had then worn away and stained in the most interesting patterns.

"Where did you first meet O'Donnell?" Bald man with glasses.

"I told you. On the side of the road. The bus driver stopped and insisted I get off."

"Insisted? You speak Nepali?" Thick man with all his sandy brown hair.

"No. He got out and said, 'miss, here, here.' He said that over and over until I got my pack and followed him out."

"Why were you on that bus?" Thin arrogant man.

"I was going to the Barun Park."

"Is that where you're going to meet the dealers?"

"What dealers?"

"Oh come, now. We know you're going to mule drugs back to the States."

Drug dealer. Terrorist. And they said world travel wasn't what it used to be. Kelly especially liked the gray-green stain that looked like Hudson's Bay. If it would just move a bit she could start finding passable Great Lakes stains to match up with it. Maybe these guys would try to turn her into a Little Drummer Girl. Who'd got the part in the movie? Diane Keaton?

"What did O'Donnell look like when you first saw her?" Bald man. Reasonable question if it hadn't been asked over and over already.

"Tall. Black, gray black coat. Long coat. And a scarf around her head. And a rifle. Over her shoulder."

"You make a habit of going off with strange women carrying rifles?" Arrogant man.

"Why not? There wasn't much else to do and she had a nice voice." Damn. She shouldn't have let him get to her. She needed to just answer what they asked.

"Nice? Nice? You call someone who's killed men, women and children 'nice'? You want to see pictures of how nice she is? I've got a photo, in living color, Miss Corcoran, that will show you the bloody body of a four-year-old with the head half gone and the brains all over his mother's arm. Just the arm, because the rest of her is missing."

Jesus, it could be true. She had no way of knowing. And it did matter. "I'm sorry," she said wearily. "I can't help you."

Bald guy with glasses asked her a question but in a language she didn't understand. Then, some familiarity from hearing old songs let her recognize the words as Gaelic. She shook her head.

"So what does your murdering dyke girlfriend look like?" Sandy haired guy.

"She never took off the scarf. I just know she had blue eyes."

"You a lesbian, Miss Corcoran? Did you think you'd go off and get a little of blue eyes before the next bus came?" Sandy haired creep guy. Sandy-haired dick-head guy.

Was she a lesbian? She had been before George called and asked if she could help him take care of Russell. "I'm sorry, Sis, but I can't manage by myself any more." She might have lost her card as a practicing lesbian by this time. These days she wasn't much of anything. Listener. Driver. Runner of errands. Funeral mourner. The curious part was that she hadn't even thought of it the whole time that she'd been following Jeri O'Donnell through the mountains. Not that butch had ever been a real big attraction for her in her former life, but she doubted sandy-haired dick-head would be interested in erotic nuances.

"I know this isn't the US and your accents suggest we come from different legal systems, but at home we have a saying: are you guys going to charge me or let me go?"

Odd how they didn't get to her the way Bolingbrook had. "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Billy always said. Then he'd laugh and add, "I think this is killing me."

Abruptly, bald head with glasses stood up. "Thank you for your time, Miss Corcoran. We'll be in touch."

And they were gone. Just like that. They even took the light. She'd been left somewhere in the middle of the night with everything from her backpack strewn all over the floor. She packed by the light from her reading flashlight. Pushed the bench close to a wall. Lay down on the bench and closed her eyes. The night was nearly over. She'd find out where she was in the morning. When she woke up at dawn, Kelly found a road only a short walk from the door. She just turned right and started walking and not long after that a weathered Nepali man driving an old pickup stopped for her. He didn't speak English, but he let her know that the town they were approaching was called Nungdu. With a cheerful smile, he dropped her off near the town's center, waving away her offer of payment.
Nungdu was on the tourist trail and even at this early hour there were a few English speakers out to give directions. Soon Kelly lay on a lumpy hotel mattress, staring up at a plaster ceiling. Not as interesting as the interrogation room walls had been, but no slouch either when it came to suggestive stains left from seasons of monsoon humidity. Be it ever so humble, and it was, the room was home and felt just fine. And it was less than 24 hours since Kelly had been put off a bus along a foggy road and met by a woman wearing a long coat and a rifle. Going over it again. Kelly had met a woman who killed people and she wanted more than anything to find that woman again. Not that Jeri's history didn't matter. On one level it was inconceivable. Things like IRA ambushes happened in movies and newspapers. Ordinary killings -- how was that for a phrase -- happened far enough away from her world that they could be successfully ignred. Just like others could successfully ignore thousands of young men wasting away into a hideous array of diseases. It wasn't distance that made different worlds, it was experience and expectation and the web of drama that you spun yourself into. She and George had grown up in a town where everyone lived in each other's pockets, and then they'd ended up in a city where an ambulance could come for you and the people next door didn't even know you were gone. If Kelly had an ounce of Midwestern brain left, she would get on a plane and get as far away from Jeri O'Donnell as possible. She was in over her head. Way over. But she wouldn't leave. Couldn't leave. Not while there was a chance that she might find Jeri again. What she had felt had been beyond question. Some kind of connection that went beyond attraction, beyond words, beyond blood and bone, something that roused a knowing so deep that if she didn't trust that knowledge then trust never had and never would make sense. Kelly drifted into a restless sleep and woke a few hours later. Curiously, she felt more awake than she had in longer than she could remember. With some anticipation, she set out to see the town. The sun was shining warmly as she wandered through the shops and stalls along with other t ourists. A variety of languages hummed around Kelly like so many chirping birds, pleasant but untranslatable. The colors of Nepal amazed her. Vibrant reds and intense greens. She stopped to look at a particularly bright and complexly embroidered piece of cloth.

"Oh - h - h." Kelly caught her breath. An array of crystals lay on the cloth. Some were the size of small pencil stubs and one was as thick as her wrist and about four inches long. Another dozen ranged in between. They were all astonishingly clear, as if someone had taken ice and removed anything that wasn't light. She picked up one shaped like a pointed plum and was delighted to see what looked like a level made of tiny bubbles bending through the interior. She turned the crystal slightly and the plane o bubbles disappeared while several rainbows formed near the tip. "Gemmy things aren't they?" The speaker sounded as satisfied as if she'd made them herself. "They're quartz. That's how they grow here."

Kelly looked at the woman who had spoken: another tourist, an older woman, with a friendly smile whose gray hair still had a peppering of red.

"Do you know stones?"

"That's what I'm here to buy. I make jewelry and sell it. My name's Meg, from near Berkeley, California."

Something inexplicable made Kelly hand the woman the crystal she had picked up. Meg took it from her, and closed her hand around the stone, shutting her eyes. For what seemed a long time, she stood there in rapt concentration.

"It's a lovely stone," she said quietly, giving the crystal back. Her eyes narrowed and she looked more closely at Kelly who felt as if she were being scanned as the crystal had been. "These crystals are guides. When you're ready for them."

"Thank you," Kelly said, releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She turned to the Nepali woman who had been waiting patiently and paid for the stone.

Kelly wandered aimlessly after that. She found her way out to the edge of Nungdu and rested on some rocks that gave her a view of the towering peaks that ringed the valley. It was warm where the sun shone directly down. The snowy peaks made one forget that this was a tropical latitude. Kelly understood that she was waiting, making herself available. Hoping that Jeri would come to her here.

"What do you think, George?" Kelly whispered aloud. "Do you think I'm crazy to want to be with someone I've only just met? Do you think I'm crossing a moral line to be attracted to her at all?" She took the plum-sized crystal from her pocket and turned it round and round, watching it catch and transform the sunlight.

"I can't take care of myself and Russell anymore, Kell. I hate to ask, but could you help us?" Her brother's voice had been so full of shame for his need, and his struggle to ignore the shame broke Kelly's heart to hear. George was her big brother, the guy who took care of her, and it was costing him to lose his capacity to cope. Smart, handsome, effortlessly kind, he had always made everything appear easy.

"I think I like girls," she had said to him during one of her visits from college.

"Oh, my dear! I was so hoping. Russ, break out the champagne. Kelly's one of us."

He was so big, big-hearted, big-minded, that Kelly had grown up in the shade of his protection without ecountering much of the world's harsher aspects. He ran interference with their parents, supporting her choice to go out of state to school. Then he got her a job at the college where he was in administration. He had an acrobat's skill at negotiating between holding on and letting go. Russell and George wanted to stay home after they got too sick to work. They were endlessly gentle with each other. Through the waning days of their lives, Kelly felt that she had been given a gift at this opportunity to share their time together, not a burden. Everything fell away from them but their tremendous hearts, and their love seemed to grow as their bodies diminished. Only once did she see despair intrude. She was living in the condo's spare room now and had come in from teaching. George was sitting in his robe at the kitchen table. This was unusual because he always made a point of dressing each day, as if it were a discipline like a monk's round of prayers or a warrior's exercise drill. He was weeping, silently, but when Kelly tried to hug him he waved her away toward Russell's room. Russell was sitting propped against pillows, his room full of the paraphernalia of the very sick. He was staring at one terribly thin arm, so shrunken that the bones were visible, and on it the large dark Kaposi's mark. After a while he looked at Kelly, his eyes large in his thin face.

"My grandfather and my uncles died looking like me," he said. "Only I have this spot, and they had tattoos from Hitler. What does it mean, Kelly?"

What does it mean, Kelly? She heard him asking that long afterwards. She could still hear him. Russell died first. George lingered. From thin, he went to impossibly thinner. All the strength of young manhood that was in him fought to live when he would have been content to leave. His body's capacity to be healthy bound him to longer suffering. And still he managed to live with grace and humor. He and Kelly would sit together in the lounge chairs on his condo balcony and gaze at the city around them and talk about the town where they grew up. Billy, George's assistant from school, was staying with them now. He and Kelly took turns caring for George. Kelly hadn't liked Billy very much when he became George's assistant at the school. She thought at first that it was internalized homophobia because he acted out and no one was ever in any doubt about his orientation. But that wasn't it. It was how he used cleverness and quips to hold people at arm's length. It could be fun, but after an extended amount of time with Billy, she would realize that not one part of it had been real or personal, and she was just tired. It was his shtick, but it wasn't one Kelly appreciated. Until he came to help with George. George did like the jokes, and the distancing and the cleverness. George let Billy help him with personal things that he had never allowed Kelly to do, either for himself or Russell. And Kelly began to see that Billy was in love with George and determined to keep it hidden.
Kelly thought Billy was tired the way she was tired. George's last days had been dreadfully wearing. He was so ready to go and his body had worked so hard to stay alive for one more hour, one more minute. Kelly had gone into Russell's room where Billy was staying to get something and Billy had been changing shirts. She saw the spot on his back, as big as a peanut jar lid. That was the absurd comparison her mind made: as big as a peanut jar lid. She couldn't say anything, she couldn't even back away and pretend she hadn't seen. She just stared. Then Billy turned around and saw her there. He started to pull on the ragged tatters of his attitude, but suddenly it was just too much and there was only room for the fear he'd been hiding. Kelly held out her arms and he came to them and they cried together. What does it mean, Kelly? It was several weeks after Russell's death. She and George had been on the balcony, and Kelly had been savoring George's presence beside her. They stayed in comfortable silence for a long time. Finally, she stirred and opened the subject she had been working toward.

"George, later, when things are worse, do you want me . . ." she stopped, still not sure how to phrase it.

George didn't wait for her to finish. "No, Kell. I'm ready to go through this." He spoke slowly. It wasn't that easy for him to talk anymore. "It seems to me that what we know about anything is so little. Does anybody read R.D. Lang anymore? He wrote . . . let me get this right . . . 'what we think is so much less than what we know, and what we know is so much less than what there is, and what there is is so much less than what we love, and to that extent we are so much less than what we could be.' Something like that. I want to believe there's meaning in this and I want to be as true to that as I can, Kell. So I am where I am and I won't try to control that by saying this part of my life is worthwhile and this other part isn't."

He was quiet for so long then that Kelly thought the talk was over. But he had something more to say.

"It's about love, Kell, I'm sure it is."

The sun had gone past the peaks. The evening air was growing chill. This didn't seem to be the day that she was going to see Jeri O'Donnell again. Kelly walked slowly back toward her hotel. She was feeling different somehow. The haze that had been so much part of her internal landscape was gone, at least for the moment. A short distance from the hotel, Kelly ran into Meg from California again. In the way of tourists traveling alone, they greeted each other like old friends and discovered they were staying at the same place. It wasn't too surprising since the hotel was inexpensive and near the center of the town, but Kelly couldn't help a small suspicion. She knew the Brits would be watching her. It was possible that the California jeweler was a plant. If this were a book by John LeCarre, Meg would definitely be on the English payroll. Since it was real life, Kelly decided the woman was probably who she said she was. They ate together at a restaurant near their hotel. It was small and simple, with thick wooden furniture painted in bright Nepali patterns. Before they parted company, they made plans to meet and go sightseeing the next morning. As Kelly drifted off to sleep, clutching the crystal in her left hand the way Meg had suggested, she thought how different this day had been compared to the one before. The life of a tourist was truly unpredictable.

Kelly woke feeling a hand on her forehead. She didn't have to open her eyes to know who it was.

"Jeri."

Sleepily Kelly noted that she was still holding the crystal. She set it on the bedside table and reached for Jeri's hand. It was a strong hand that she found, she could feel that, a hand that knew hard work, a competent hand. She liked holding it, feeling the long fingers, knuckles, strength.

"I've been waiting for you."

"Yes. I promised."

Kelly felt a soft kiss brush her forehead. Everything was so familiar, as if several pieces of a puzzle were sliding into place and making a whole picture. She opened her eyes. There was enough ambient light in the room to see the shape of the woman who sat beside her on the bed.

"You need to be careful," Kelly said. "I'm pretty sure the bad guys are watching me."

"Kelly, they're not the bad guys." There was pain in her voice. "I'm the --"

Kelly put her fingers on Jeri's lips, stopping the words. "Your enemies then."

"Yes. All right. That will do. Did they give you a hard time?"

"Not too bad. Only thumbscrews, no rack. They don't believe we just met."

Jeri laughed quietly. "I don't think I believe that myself." She took Kelly's hand in both of her own, squeezed it, growing serious. "I came to say good-bye."

"No, you didn't." Kelly's voice was husky.

"Yes. I have to go. You don't know how much it means that I met you, but we can't be together."

"Why? Is there someone else?"

"No." The answer was short and sharp, and then she repeated it much more softly. "No, there's no one else."

"You're not going to tell me you're straight." Kelly spoke with exaggerated disbelief.

Even in the dark, Kelly could see the gleam of a challenge in Jeri's eyes. She could see this because the eyes came steadily toward her until she closed her own and felt the touch of soft lips on her mouth. It began as a gentle kiss, easy, slow, tentative. She could feel Jeri holding back even as they cautiously explored, asking and answering the questions that are part of a first kiss. For herself, Kelly began to be lost in the upwelling of feeling. She was having trouble breathing, and she felt like she was riding a wave into a rich and compelling darkness. This was what Plato meant: her soul was rising to meet and merge with this other soul, to greet the lost . . . Jeri tenderly disengaged and sat up, breathing raggedly, still holding tightly to Kelly's hand lest she think there was rejection involved in stopping.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Jeez . . . please god don't tell me you've made a vow of celibacy!"

"No . . . you idiot; you dear, sweet idiot. I have to go and I don't want you to get more involved with me."

"Jeri, listen. Please listen. Carefully. We are involved. That's why you're here. That's why I'm here. I trust this more than I trust life itself. If this isn't true then truth isn't possible. If we betray this then we'll be less than nothing."

"Oh, god. Kelly. You don't know. . . I can't. I've already betrayed us, don't you see that?"

The anguish was overwhelming, alive in the room like a thing unto itself.

Kelly thought she understood what Jeri was saying. She thought she might understand how turning to violence could be an act of despair and betrayal. For an instant she was tempted to give in. Only for an instant. Then she deliberately shifted gears. As if they were discussing some utterly ordinary event, she asked, "Where are you going?"

"I can't . . ." spoken out of habit, stopped, reached for trust, ". . . Tibet."

"Why?"

"Bolingbrook wants more proof of what's happening there."

"How are you going to get it?"

"We're taking her over the border."

"That settles it. I know you could go more safely without me, but I can keep up with her without a problem any day of the week." Kelly slid out of bed. "Can I take anything with me?"

"Kelly . . ."

"No, Jeri. I'm going. You didn't come to leave me. You came to get me. You know you did."

She waited for a denial but there was none. Jeri sat silently, her head bowed in the darkness. As surely as if it were her own mind, Kelly felt the shame as Jeri realized the truth of what Kelly had said, realized the truth and took it for a weakness. Kelly returned to the bed and knelt beside Jeri. She took Jeri's head in her hands and made the other woman's gaze meet her own.

"And I'm glad to go. You dear, brave woman, we'll work through this. If you hadn't come for me my soul would have withered. From now on your eyes are my home, and your arms are my shelter, and your heart is my safety."

Kelly had no idea where the words came from, they were like water flowing from a spring.

A small smile lifted one side of Jeri's mouth. "Jesus, woman," she said, putting on a touch of accent, "and I thought you were only American Irish. You have the gift of the Gael, don't you?" She sighed. "All right. Take about half of what you brought from the States. Bring all your papers. We'd better get going."

Kelly moved quickly, shifting things in and out of the pack. It had taken hours of lists and rethinking to plan for her trip to Nepal, now it took less than ten minutes to separate out the essentials. She stacked the rest on the table top and left a short note leaning against it. Meg should find it easily when she came to get Kelly for breakfast. Meg, take what you can use and ignore the rest. Events are taking on a crystal clarity. I've gone on for now. I hope we meet again. K

"There," Kelly said to Jeri. "That should stop anyone wondering if they need to report a disappearance."

Kelly followed Jeri out into the hall and they slipped like shadows through the darkness. Jeri let the way to an opening onto the roof. The buildings were fairly close together and they didn't need to go down to street level until they were a fair way from the hotel. It was cloudless night with a waxing moon, bright enough that Kelly was more worried about being seen than she was troubled by lack of vision. They saw no one. As they left the town, Jeri stopped keeping to shadows and they stepped out onto open ground, going for speed. Only once did they stop and that was shortly after dawn as they climbed a steep and rocky path. Kelly was laboring to match Jeri's speed, but the other woman moved uphill as if she were on level ground. Kelly looked up and saw that Jeri had stopped and was waiting for her. The tall woman watched her approach with an unreadable gaze, a frown that almost might have been anger. Before Kelly reached her, Jeri walked toward her, took her head in both her strong hands and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, and Kelly understood it was to seal the covenant she herself had put into words a short time before.

"I'll never ask you to leave me again," Jeri said. She turned then and they resumed climbing.

Kelly decided that her heart did indeed know how to sing. It was good to be a literature major; one learned loads of phrases to keep in reserve until they became appropriate.

A few hours later, Kelly gave up. "I need food," she called when Jeri looked back. "Can you make me any promises?"

Jeri grinned. "I can do better than that." She glanced around and found a place where they could sit and look back the way they'd come.

The town lay far below them like a cherry pit in a bowl while all around them towered peaks of the world's highest mountain range. It was startling to see how far they had climbed.

"Here." Jeri handed her a thick disk of wheat bread, a chapati, and a thermos of strong tea.

"You do know the way to a girl's heart. What's next after the picnic?"

"Aren't you the cheap date? We should get to where we're meeting Bolingbrook before dark. She's not expected until tomorrow. How are you holding out?"

"Okay. I spent a lot of time at the gym. It was the best medicine for the stress of being with the boys. It gave me a focus for all the pent up energy. I'm in pretty good shape."

"You'll get no argument from me. We won't be going too much higher than this and it's lack of oxygen that'll do you in up here."

"How dangerous is it where we're going?"

Jeri chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "It's a crap shoot, Kell. It's not a place where the Chinese usually go, but they're unpredictable. We'll just have to be real careful."

Kell. George had called her that. Most people settled for Kelly. It felt really good to hear someone call her "Kell" again. "How did you get involved with Tibetans?"

For a long time Jeri didn't answer. She looked at her half-finished chapati without appetite and wrapped it, replacing it in the food pack. She gazed toward the far mountain peaks but she was looking inward. Kelly waited. When Jeri answered, she spoke as someone who has chosen to use words as a penance.

"I planted a bomb in Belfast. It was supposed to go off half an hour later than it did. That's not an excuse, and it wasn't the first operation I'd been in, but we were going to call in a warning. Eleven people were killed. Six were kids. At first I tried to tough it out, said things like that happen in war. Said that's how you fight in the late Twentieth Century. Said bombers in planes kill more. Said they'd done far worse to us. But I couldn't sleep much anymore. I would have got myself killed but that would have been too easy. I owed more than one life. I went south down to the Republic and I went off by myself for a while. I didn't have a vision or anything, but after a while I knew I had to atone. Not a Christian thing. Not prison either; I don't give them the right to judge me. But I have to make my living be of particular use now. My life isn't really my own. It's owed to the dead."

A huge bird, the bearded vulture, called the lammergeier, sailed in lazy circles in the middle distance, looking for carrion. Kelly had read that only the South American condor was larger.

"Things like this, like trying to find a way to get help for the Tibetans, it's what I do now. If Bolingbrook hadn't needed more information, I'd be on my way to Afghanistan. There's a women's community needs to get out before the Taliban get to them. So. Questions?"

"Heaps. But not now. Mostly about how you got from Boston to Belfast, but I want the big answer. I can get it later, right?"

Kelly got to her feet and extended her hand to Jeri. When the dark-haired woman took it, Kelly was surprised again by her strength. "What do you do to keep in shape?" she asked, admiringly.

"Why, ma'am," Jeri drawled, "I run from the law. Keeps a gal on her toes it does."

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=608 ... nmain.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 25 lis 2012 11:54

Šta sam sve korisno i lepo naučila iz TV reklama

Umro mi je kompjuter. Tačnije, mogao bi da poživi još koji mesec, al’ to mu dođe skuplje nego da kupujem novi. I zato ga, slomljenog srca, skidam sa aparata. Porodica, to jest - ja, dala je pismeni pristanak. Moraću da mu dam solidnih 40 dana parastosa dok ne kupim novi, jer toliko kasni i moj honorar. Moraću, takođe, da se opet, lagano, navikavam da mozak odmaram uz pomoć televizije.

Nakon što sam se priučila davno zaboravljenoj veštini tolerisanja govornih mana domaćih spikera i spikerki, te navežbala reflekse toliko da mogu ekstremno brzo da promenim kanal kad naleti cunami estrade, morala sam da popijem i obaveznu dozu reklama. To mi je pomoglo da shvatim da se mnogo šta o "životu, vaseljeni i svemu ostalom" može naučiti iz njih. Evo i spiska:

1.Postoji "eskort" agencija koja iznajmljuje visoke, ćelave, nabildovane batice da vam čiste kuću ili dvorište, a odazivaju se na određen zvižduk. Momci su brzi i efikasni, i stići će sve da završe dok vam se ne vrate roditelji, suprug, ili deca.
Moj komentar: Ova agencija u svojoj ponudi ima i pristojna sredstva za čišćenje kuće, a za kvalitet usluge osoblja ne znam, pošto još nisam videla da su se bilo kome odazvali na zvižduk.

2.Postoji čitav niz žena koje su napredovale u svojoj karijeri ili se udale zahvaljujući tome što koriste izvestan šampon za kosu. Šampon je zaslužan i za to što su mnogi mladići stekli samopouzdanje i promenili svoje loše životne navike.
Moj komentar: Oduvek mi se činilo da neoprana kosa privlači više pažnje od oprane.

3.Debela teta koja vodi pansion „Marija“, negde u Alpima (gde ipak, nekako, svi govore srpski), može da izvadi bukvalno svaku fleku iz čaršava uz pomoć besplatnog praška za veš. Pored toga, ona zlostavlja svog muža i vrlo često se meša u privatan život svojih gostiju.
Moj komentar: Ne želim nikada, ikada da posetim pansion „Marija“.

4.Manekenke koje reklamiraju higijenske uloške na televiziji su, sve do jedne, plemenitog porekla. Ovaj aristokratski momenat jedini uspeva da objasni činjenicu da te žene imaju očigledno plavu krv. Lepo se vidi na reklami.
Moj komentar: Možda pripadnost kraljevskim porodicama objašnjava i njihovu konstantnu sreću i zadovoljstvo, čak i tokom PMS-a. Mene niko živi ne bi mogao da natera da skakućem po poljima kamilice dok me boli stomak i mrzim ceo svet.

5.Maloj deci i njihovim životinjama je užasno važan omekšivač koji mama koristi. Ako mama nešto zezne, maleni ne samo da neće moći da spavaju, nego će verovatno imati i traume do kraja života!
Moj komentar: Dete koje sa šest godina uopšte zna šta je to omekšivač treba češće da izlazi iz kuće i druži se sa svojim vršnjacima.

6.Prirodni voćni sokovi sadrže ogromne količine sedativa, a gazirana pića - još veće količine amfetamina. To je jedino objašnjenje sumanutog ponašanja mladih ljudi koji ova pića konzumiraju u reklamama.
Moj komentar: Nisam sigurna šta ti sokovi rade manekenima, ali ja sam u pubertetu uspela jednom da se ugojim pet kila zbog preterane konzumacije gaziranog soka.

7.Žene nemaju organe kojima bi mogle da pojme šta je to, zapravo, pivo. One ne umeju da cene njegov ukus, miris ili izgled, kao što ne umeju da cene ni muški način života. Vrlo često su i prepreka muškarcima u opuštenom ispijanju piva. Žene i pivo ne smeju da se mešaju.
Moj komentar: Ja pivo ne volim, ali imam nekoliko drugarica koje se ne odvajaju od njega, a čini se i da im pivo uzvraća te nežne emocije.

8.Mrmoti su izmislili uredjaj za teleport. Stavljaju ga u čokoladu. Ne samo da je čokolada ukusna zato što su je mrmoti umesili svojim vrednim ručicama, nego ta ista čokolada može da vas teleportuje na vrh Alpa (nadajmo se ne u prokleti pansion „Marija“). Ili to, ili su glodari umešani u lanac proizvodnje halucinogenih droga.
Moj komentar: Otkad sam ovo videla, izbegavam tu vrstu čokolade jer sam zimogrožljiva i jezivo loše skijam.

9.Od jogurta ne samo da se mršavi, već on leči i sve poznate bolesti. Naročito ako puno radite. Ako puno radite - u jogurtu je spas.
Moj komentar: Nisam sigurna da je jogurt sa 0,0001% i dalje jogurt, al’ ako ću da smršam i izlečim sve boljke koje imam, ima da ga pijem, pa makar mi preselo.

10.Ako budete izrazito glasno i ponosno zahtevali od apotekarke da vam proda domaću varijantu leka za regulisanje impotencije, ta impotencija će već nekako, sama od sebe nestati. Dovoljno je da izgovorite više puta naglas ime leka, poput neke mantre.
Moj komentar: Uvek mi je delovalo zabrinjavajuće to što u ovoj reklami lekar koji preporučuje proizvod izgleda kao da mu neko izvan kadra preti vatrenim oružjem.

Ovo je samo deset primera korisnih stvari koje možete da naučite iz reklama koje se emituju na televiziji. Nisam sigurna da je namera marketinških stručnjaka koji su osmislili te spotove bila da nam prenesu baš ove informacije, ali one su tu. Grumenčići „zlata“ koji čekaju da budu otkriveni i upotrebljeni u neprijateljskom svetu koji nas okružuje. Subliminalne porukice spremne da pomognu svakoj domaćici, tinejdžeru ili japiju u nevolji.
A možda je meni mozak podivljao od previše televizije. Možda učitavam previše značenja u nešto što bi trebalo da bude samo jednostavna reklama namenjena određenoj ciljnoj grupi. Previše razmišljam. To ne valja.

Vreme je da nabavim novi kompjuter.
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
Pridružen/a: 21 svi 2012 21:56
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: ne želim se identificirati
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Lokacija: Racisce

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 25 lis 2012 12:00

Sezona zečeva/sezona pataka

Ovih dana radim na pripremi predstave za decu. Jako, jaako malu decu.
S jedne strane, u takvom poslu leži nevidjeno uživanje – možeš sebi da dopustiš kojekakvo glupiranje i maštovita rešenja koje ne moraju uvek da budu logična. S druge - cela stvar mora da bude dobra; mora da bude pošteno, iskreno i detaljno uradjena. Pokušaj da podvališ i klinci će, ne osećajući potrebu da budu posebno ugladjeni (a zašto bi i bili?), prestati da tolerišu glupost koja im se servira, početi da se deru, dobacuju glumcima i na kraju - nabiti prst mami u oko.
Pošto nikako ne želim da mučim roditelje, a još manje decu, rešila sam da batalim hiljadu puta prežvakane teorije o psihi dece i nove umetničke tendencije koje oduševljavaju kritičare (dok mališani vrište od užasa i grebu na vrata pozorišne sale ne bi li ih neko pustio napolje); kao i estradno podilaženje masama u vidu budžene reprodukcije velikih inostranih franšiza (Yu-Gi-Oh spašava Deda Mraza i zajedno pobedjuju Valdemora). Umesto toga, okrenula sam se napuštenom blagu: starinskim, klasičnim crtanim filmovima koji se mogu videti još jedino na YouTube-u i po hard-diskovima posvećenika.
Sećate li se Looney Tunes-a? Naravno da se sećate. Dan-danas svi spremno citiramo replike iz genijalnog serijala Warner Brothers-a, bilo u originalnoj varijanti, bilo da se trudimo da „skinemo“ Nikolu Simića, Baju Bačića, Djuzu Stojiljkovića i ostatak ekipe koja je genijalno nahsinhronizovala lude životinje i ulepšala nam život. Palo mi je na pamet da nešto što je meni bilo toliko zabavno kad sam bila mala, a istovremeno je zasmejavalo i moju baku i moje roditelje, mora da poseduje neki poseban sastojak u sebi.
I tako sam skinula 10 gigabajta matorih crtaća. Odgledala sam ih gotovo sve za par dana. Smejuljila sam se kao debil kad Duško Dugouško šamara bika na koridi, kikotala se nekontrolisano kad se Patak Dača zaleće u svako drvo u šumi, ne bi li postao Robin Hud.
Tada mi je sinulo. U tim crtaćima leži nešto više od puke zabave, basnolikih šala ili blage satire. „Šašava družina“ nas od malih nogu uči elementarnim životnim istinama.
Na primer: najlakše ćeš pobediti neprijatelja ako ga učiniš smešnim.
Na primer: osobe koje nemaju smisla za humor obično su zle i pokvarene.
Na primer: džabe ti nabudženo oružje, ako si glup i sujetan.
A iznad svega, tu je činjenica da se ljudi dele na dve vrste. Na Duške Dugouške i na Patke Dače.
Patak Dača je ambiciozan, vredan, sujetan, žedan slave, novca i priznanja. Spreman je na sve da bi to postigao, makar tako uništio drugima život. Pametan je i brz, ima odlične ideje, i verovatno bi ovaj mali makijavelista uspeo u svemu što radi, da nema ozbiljan problem. Dača je iznad svega neurotičan i paranoičan, neoprezan i bahat, te ga neprijatelji (koje je stvorio dok je gazio po njima na putu do zvezda), na kraju vrlo efikasno postave na svoje mesto. Svaka Dačina priča se uglavnom završava poslovičnim nervnim slomom.
Duško Dugouško je hedonista i veseljak, spreman da sve svoje vreme potroši na uživanje u malim stvarima. Nije opterećen nikakvim posebnim ciljem, ali najviše na svetu ceni svoju slobodu. Ukoliko je ta sloboda osujećena na bilo koji način, pa čak i ako je ugrožen i neko ko mu je simpatičan, Duško izgovara dobro poznatu repliku „Svima je jasno da ovo znači rat!“ i kreće u akciju. Njegovo
oružje nisu agresija i zloba, već humor, ležernost, superiorno opušten stav prema životu. Okej, nije baš da ste bezbedni dok vas on pita koji vam je vrag. Verovatno u gaćama imate eksploziv. Ali, to ste sami tražili. Duško nikad ne napada prvi i uvek na kraju dobije ono što je hteo: svoju malu, udobnu zečju rupu pod suncem.
Ako zanemarimo podvarijante ova dva tipa ličnosti koje se pojavljuju u drugim likovima ovih crtaća, Looney Tunes-i nam poprilično dobro objašnjavaju kako i zašto funkcionišu dobro i zlo u ljudima.
Doduše, posebna komplikacija nastaje u realnom životu, jer su ljudi poput Duška i ljudi poput Dače najčešće poslovni partneri, prijatelji, rodbina, i pre svega- u braku.
Još veći problem nastaje kada se i Duško i Dača nadju zajedno u jednoj te istoj osobi. A to smo svi iskusili, zar ne?
Drago mi je što ovi crtaći postoje i danas, barem u nekakvoj digitalnoj formi, ne bi li neko savremeno dete odgledalo i nasmejalo se tom tako zabavnom i često politički nekorektnom remek- delu.
Jer, da se ne lažemo, iz „Yu-Gi-Oh“-a, „Winx Vila“ ili „Totally Spies“-a neće naučiti ama baš ništa.
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 25 lis 2012 21:34

putovanje kroz vrijeme ....a onda slijetanje u vrijeme Divljeg zapada

Renegade
by Cheyne

Rachel blinked, thinking the sun was playing tricks on her at first and then praying the man lying motionless on the ground in front of her was not dead. Approaching carefully, she first gently prodded the person with the barrel of her gun. There was no movement. She looked for obvious wounds such as bullet holes, slash marks, rope line around the neck...but she saw no evidence of any of that nor did she see any blood anywhere. She wasn't above thinking that Crane might have sent one of his men to trick her, so she was guarded when she knelt down to study the situation more closely. If it wasn't a ploy, this person was hurt somehow and she just couldn't leave him there to die or to suffer alone for the coyotes, buzzards and God only knew what else to finish him off. Seeing nothing to convince her that there was anything to be concerned about on this cowboy's back, she rolled him over with great effort to observe the front side of him. She started at the man's boots, which didn't look like any cowboy footwear she had ever seen before, then noticed that his denim trousers also seemed different...or maybe that was just the way they fit over this slender man's lower frame. As her eyes traversed up this stranger's body, her focus was suddenly pulled to his head. This was no one she had ever seen before and, having grown up in Sagebrush, she thought she knew everyone. Although, there were always saddle bums moving through town at any given time, picking up enough work to get them enough money to move on to the next town. Her gaze finally focused on the drifter's facial features and her heart stopped as she looked at the most striking face she had ever laid eyes on. The features were sculpted, high cheekbones and tanned complexion which could have indicated a possible Indian or Gypsy heritage, long dark eyelashes and shaggy, black hair cut in a style she'd never seen any man sport in these parts. The nose was slender, almost womanish, but it seemed perfect on this face. The lips looked soft and they were slightly parted, an expression which immediately got Rachel's heart beating again, only a little faster than she was used to. She wasn't sure exactly what emotion was washing over her but she knew it wasn't fear. Her hand automatically brushed against the cowboy's face, feeling no stubble, no evidence of a beard and she guessed, despite his long and well filled out form, and this stranger must be young or reiterated the notion of some Indian blood in him. Transfixed, she had to mentally chastise herself to continue searching for injuries. Rachel's free hand moved down to the stranger's denim shirt, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Finding a tear in the fabric, she then felt something odd. She began unfastening the metal buttons, opening the shirt to reveal an unusual looking wrap, a binding of some kind. Spotting a circle of blood, approximately the size of her fist, Rachel assumed she had found the wound that must have made this stranger pass out. Feeling the odd stretchy material of the binding, she put her fingers on the dark, moist area that appeared to be bleeding. Separating the layers of the wrap to see what type of wound she was dealing with, when she found skin, she saw a small jagged cut that did not look like a bullet hole or a knife slice. Her eyes grew wide, however, when she immediately noticed something else. Cleavage. Startled, she glanced back up at the fascinating face and found herself looking directly into the most intense pale blue eyes she had ever seen. Before she could react, a hand grabbed her wrist, holding her in place securely, strength she was surprised to find in a woman.

"What are you doing?" the stranger asked, tersely. Her voice was raspy but her register was a low alto, one that could have been possibly mistaken for a callow male.

"N-nothing...I...I was checking to see if y...you were hurt..." She sounded terrified and confused.

Trace realized how tightly she was holding this woman's wrist and quickly eased up her grip and then let her go. Rachel lost her balance and fell back on her rear end, dropping her rifle. She scrambled backward, picking up her shotgun, got to her feet and fixed the weapon at Trace.

"Who are you? Why are you dressed like a man?" Rachel's voice may have been shaking but her aim was steady.

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Well..." she hesitated, "...you don't have any whiskers..."

"All the men in my family have light beards." Trace scratched her chin for emphasis and moved to leaning on her elbows. She had to squint to protect her eyes from the sun, which was still high in the sky behind Rachel.

"And," Rachel's face reddened in embarrassment, "you have breasts."

Trace smiled at her. "And you would know that because...?"

"I was checking to see if you were hurt."

"Uh huh." The brunette nodded, not taking her eyes off the blonde.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you're pretending to be a man," Rachel reemphasized.

"Shit," Trace swore. "Not even here, what, thirty minutes and I've already blown my cover." She shook her head, disgusted with herself.

Rachel was more than mildly surprised that this woman did not seem at all afraid of facing down the barrel of her shotgun. And her words were peculiar. Blown her cover? What did that mean? "Answer my question," The blonde demanded, readjusting the hold on her shot gun training it on Trace as she slowly, stiffly sat up.

The Twenty-First century police detective rubbed her eyes and then directed her attention to the Nineteenth Century woman. Her long, golden blonde hair probably bleached lighter by whatever time she spent outside in the sun, was pulled back away from her face and shoulders by a ribbon. She had intelligent, piercing, emerald green eyes and a lovely face. Her slender figure was covered from shoulder to toe by a dress that showed off her more than an adequate bust line, trim waist and then billowed out from there. When Trace's eyes moved back up Rachel's body and pinned her with a defiant glare, the blonde set her jaw and matched her recalcitrance.

Casually putting her hand up in surrender, Trace attempted to massage away the dull pain in her shoulder with her other hand. "Okay, okay, relax. You can put that thing down, I'm not going to hurt you or try anything. I promise." Rachel lowered the shotgun to her side but her posture remained alert. "What year is it?"

"What?" The blonde blinked, wondering what was wrong with this very handsome woman.

"Year...what year is it?"

"Eighteen hundred and seventy-nine. Why don't you know that? Did you hit your head?"

An exuberant smile crossed Trace's face. "He did it!! Yes!!" Her enthusiasm and odd behavior startled the blonde, who leveled the weapon at her again. Once again, the brunette raised her hand. "No, it's - never mind. I'm just a little fuzzy from my...um...fall."

"You fell? Is that how you got cut?" There was a hint of concern in her voice.

"Cut?"

Rachel indicated the bloodstain on Trace's wrapped chest. "There."

Looking down, the detective's hand instinctively went to her breast. "Shit." She reached inside the binding and felt around. "Yep. Damn it." Looking around her immediate area, she spied a jagged rock she must have landed on. Well, thankfully, it wasn't bleeding profusely or too terribly painful. Her entire body ached from the impact. She knew she'd have a few bruises but was pretty sure nothing was wrenched, sprained or broken.

"You curse a lot. And you still haven't answered my question."

Sighing, Trace knew she couldn't put it off, any longer. "I'm not from around here, which I'm sure you already noticed."

"Where are you from?"

"Um..." She had to make up a name...if she said Union City and that was the name of the town now, the blonde would know she was lying. "...Cottonwood?"

"I've never heard of it...where is that?"

"Far from here."

"How'd you get here?"

"Uh...my horse threw me?"

"Why do you say it like you're asking me? Did your horse throw you or not?"

"Yes. Yes. My horse threw me. You haven't seen him anywhere around have you?"

Rachel suspiciously squinted. "What did he look like?"

Think fast, Trace. "He was a...pinto with a...um...brown mane and tail. Black saddle."

"Haven't seen anything like that around here. A painted pony, huh? You Indian?"

"Me? No." Not that I know of, Trace finished to herself. "Why? Do I look Indian?"

"Looks like you could have some Indian in you. Or Gypsy. So - are you running from somebody or not?"

What to do, what to do. Maybe this woman could help her. She definitely needed a friend and maybe explaining her circumstances in terms that the smaller woman might understand would make a difference. Not only that, Trace thought, as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, giving the blonde a more than appreciative once over, maybe she could introduce this little cutie to a little Sapphic pleasure while she was here. Trace gave herself a mental slap. Those kinds of advances would probably get her executed in this era. Damn...maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "Well...it's like this. I'll tell you if you put that gun down and we can get out of the sun."

Not budging, Rachel said, "You'll tell me now."

Trace knew she could be on her feet and disarm the blonde in a heartbeat but she also knew that would be a mistake. This woman wasn't a killer. She was frightened, Trace could sense it, could see it in her eyes. She certainly wouldn't make any points by bullying her. Relaxing, Trace broke into her friendliest smile and shrugged in concession. "All right... may I ask your name?"

"Rachel."

"Rachel, I'm Trace. And yes, Rachel, someone is after me."

"What did you do?"

"Actually? Nothing." She surely wouldn't understand the dynamics of the vendetta, so Trace decided to keep it simple. "I made someone very angry with me and I did everything I could to fix the situation but nothing worked. So now he wants me dead."

Her eyes widened in shock. That would explain the disguise but what could a woman have possibly done that was so bad to have caused a posse to be after her? "Why?"

"Because...well...where I come from, Rachel, things are more, um, advanced. Women are allowed to be cops -"

"What's a cop?"

"Police...uh...peace officers..."

"Peace officers?" The expression of confusion on Rachel's face told Trace she didn't understand the vernacular.

"Marshals and sheriffs and deputies and jailers."

At first she nodded in comprehension but then she raised an eyebrow, as though she felt the brunette was pulling her leg. She almost laughed. "You must think I'm a fool. Women can't be the law. I've never heard of such a thing!"

"I'm serious. I am not lying to you. I was what was called a police detective in my town and -”

"Detective? Like Pinkerton?"

"No. Yes. Well, not exactly. It's sort of like that but I was more of a sheriff. I arrested some men who had friends and relatives that didn't like that very much. But they were very bad men and they needed to stay in jail. The leader of these men vowed to kill me. And I know he would, so...that's why I came here."

"Will he come here looking for you?" Rachel's voice suddenly took on a small intonation of dread.

"I doubt it. He has no idea where to even start looking for me."

"Then why must you keep dressing like a man?"

There was no way Rachel would understand the dynamics of that, either. "Because...I can't guarantee he or his gang won't eventually ride through the area hunting for me." Trace's blue eyes seemed almost pleading, which caused Rachel's cautious green ones to soften. "I know this is a lot to ask because we don't know each other but I need your help."

"What could I possibly do to help you?" Her voice was laced with skepticism. "I won't put my life in danger for someone I don't even know. Besides, I'm still not sure you're telling me the truth."

"You're right. You don't. I'm not asking you to hide me; I'm asking you to keep my cover -"

"You're what?"

"My disguise...I'm going to need to stay here a while - a long while - and I'm going to need to continue to convince everyone that I'm a man."

"Why?"

"Um...well, first...as I said, if this man and his friends ride through town looking for me, they'll be looking for a woman, not a man. Second, like I said, where I come from things are a lot more progressed. As an...uh... enforcer of the law, I am a lot more aggressive than any of your women and most of your men. I need to live here as a man. Trust me. Otherwise, men here will want to kill me, too."

"I still don't understand."

"I don't either but that's the way things are. You seem like a very kind woman, Rachel, and I am pretty sure you wouldn't do anything to intentionally send me to my death."

"No, of course not!" the blonde exclaimed, indignantly. "But I cannot have a man living in my home."

"Why? You're husband?"

"I'm not married."

"Really? A beautiful woman like you?" Trace's smile was engaging. "Why not?"

Rachel cast her eyes downward. "I'm just not." It wasn't the fact that Rachel was not married that made her break eye contact with Trace, it was an odd, not easily undefined feeling the brunette generated in her that caused a burning in her cheeks. For the second time since meeting this stranger, Rachel's heartbeat sped up.

Reading her reaction, Trace knew there was a story behind it. Now was not the time to pursue it. "Like I said, I'm not asking you to hide me, just to keep my secret."

As if Rachel had not even heard her, she continued, her gaze still on the ground. "It's just not proper. And even though I know you are not really a man, the town would not."

"It's okay, I understand."

Rachel finally lowered the gun to her side. "Were you really a sheriff?" The interest sounded genuine.

"Absolutely. If you have a bible, I'll put my left hand on it and raise the right one to God."

That must have been the right thing to say. Rachel became pensive. "Well...if anyone asks, I could say that I found you hurt and that I'm nursing you back to health..."

"Yeah, that would work," Trace added, hopefully. "Then the town could gradually get to know me."

"And I really could use some help with the land..."

Trace cocked her head and shrugged. "You'd have to show me what you need done - I haven't ever worked land at all."

"You'd have to sleep in the barn."

"With what?" An unpleasant thought crossed her mind...the odor of pig, chicken, cow and horse shit - or smelling like it - was something she didn't think she could get used to. "What else lives in the barn?"

Rachel almost laughed at the brunette's expression. "Nothing anymore. I had cows but they were all slaughtered," she said, sadly. "Now I keep equipment in there for the field. There is a small room in the back. You can stay there."

Alerting on Rachel's demeanor at mentioning the cows, Trace figured she'd save that question for another time, too. "I really appreciate it, Rachel. Uh...would it be possible to get out of the sun now?"

The blonde thought about it briefly, then lowered the rifle to her side, pointing at the ground. "Okay. I should take a look at your cut, too. Looks like it needs tending to."

Something about the thought of this tiny, adorable blonde putting her hands on her made Trace most eager to get back to her house, too. You can take the girl out of the sleaze but you can't take the sleaze out of the girl, Trace smirked to herself. Standing up, the detective unobtrusively studied Rachel. The young woman was at least seven inches shorter than she was, nice little body from the limited amount the dress showed off and all around extremely pleasing to the eye as Trace was noticing more and more accompanying Rachel back to her property. If she was subtle, maybe she could make the most of landing a century back in time.

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=598 ... gade1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 28 lis 2012 20:47

kad se jednom opečete pušete i na hladno ...ali da bi zaboravili treba vam nježna i draga duša

~ Nurturing Souls ~
by DS Bauden

Sydney's thoughts drifted to the past. Her feelings for Ally brought the pain of her past relationship to the forefront of her mind. She sat in the loft of the barn that felt so close to home. Her heart was warring with her mind as she looked out the window. I thought I was done thinking about her. Damn it, Alicia. I don't think I'm ready for this, yet. She wiped the tears from her eyes and face and enjoyed the peace the colors of the night sky gave to her.

Ally fought with herself about going after Sydney. If she wanted you out there, she would have invited you to come initially. Stay put, missy. Nope, can't do that. Before she knew it, she was outside looking for Sydney. She walked into the stable only to find Matty and Polka looking at her in wonder.

"Hi, girls, have you seen a tall, beautiful, brunette in here tonight?" she asked the horses only to get no response. Unless they were attempting to communicate something deeper in the munching of the carrots she'd fed them. "Okay, if I were out here and not wanting to be found, where would I go?" Ally looked around and decided that the loft would be a sure bet. It was rather dark up there so she fetched an old lantern from the house.

She lit the lantern and slowly crept up the ladder to the loft. Sitting with her legs draped over the edge of the window was her runaway.

"Do I need a secret handshake or can anyone play up here?" Ally said trying to lighten the mood.

"Come over here and look at this sky. It's just remarkable."

Ally joined her, and watched as the remainder of color left the sky. "Wow, I forgot how beautiful things were up here. You don't get colors like that in Chicago. There is a lot, actually, that I didn't get in Chicago." Ally thought that Sydney might catch the subtle hint thrown in her direction.

"I am sorry for earlier; I don't know what came over me."

"What do you mean? We were just having some fun. No harm, no foul, to quote a friend of mine," Ally nudged Sydney hoping to make her smile.

"You really amaze me, Alicia."

"What do you mean?" the young woman asked.

"I mean, most women I've encountered would have just let me sit out here and dwell on what almost happened tonight."

"So, I wasn't wrong about those feelings, you feel them too." It was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes, I just don't know what to do about them." Sydney turned to the younger woman. "Ally, did you know that I was attracted to women?"

"No, I just felt an overwhelming attraction to you and a familiarity that was only getting stronger. I know we just met, but I swear that I've known you all of my life."

"I won't deny my attraction to you, but I also told you how afraid I am of giving myself to anyone. I'm not sure I'm ready for this yet. Please forgive me." The dark head dropped forlornly.

"There is nothing to forgive, sweetie," Ally said warmly. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way. Friends?" Ally held out her hand.

Sydney stood and gently pulled the smaller woman into her arms. Home, I'm definitely home, was all that was going through the minds of both women. The embrace was so warm and so gentle that neither woman wanted to be the one the end the contact. The closeness came to an end when Ally felt Sydney's body stiffen.

"What's wrong, Sydney? Talk to me."

"I need to know something," Sydney said quietly.

"Anything." Ally felt Sydney's stare down to her toes. Whatever she needed to know, Ally knew that the truth would be the only way to answer.

"I... need to know..." her voice trailed off. The woman moved closer and closer until all Ally could feel was Sydney's breath against her mouth.

"What?" Ally almost pleaded with her taller companion.

"Kiss me... Alicia... please... I need to know..." Sydney's heart was racing with anticipation.

Sydney felt the soft lips touch hers for the first time. The kiss was so gentle and yielding she could have stayed there forever.

Ally had never felt the kiss of another woman. She'd never expected such softness. It was incredible.

They sank deeper into the kiss until Sydney finally pulled away. "God, I'm sorry! I don't mean to tease you like this. It isn't fair of me. I just needed to know. I couldn't bear not knowing what your lips felt like on mine."

Ally felt stung by this admission. "And what did I feel like?" the young woman sputtered. "Did I fulfill your curiosity? Is that all that was? A thirst for knowledge? Well, know this. I will not be played with; either you want this or you don't. I don't think I can handle any mind games right now, okay?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's always the case isn't it? Good night, Sydney." Ally spun on her heels, climbed down the ladder, and went back to the house.

"Well, that went well," Sydney muttered, feeling horrible as she stared into the night sky.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/ds_bauden_nsouls.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 29 lis 2012 23:14

BABA I ANA

Došla ja doma i uvatila me baba u priču . Uvik kad dođeš zabiješ se u sobu i u svoju muziku . Dođi malo babi da popričamo.
Uto dolazi Ana s VaKulTeta i pitam ja nju kako je na vakultetu ?
Sve ti je to super Meri samo dok profesor prica isperd mene , čim ode iza mene ja ga kurca ne čujem .
Imam jednu frendicu na Faxu koja uporno mlije mlije i mlije , sve bi to bilo super da ne sidi livo od mene i meni već neugodno postalo . Ja ti samo klimam glavom al ona i dalje prica a ja je kurca ne čujem . I tako ti meni dopizdilo i uzmem papir i olovku i napišem joj da ne čujem na livo uho i ona udre i dalje sa svojom pricom . Dođe nama pauza i objasnim ja njoj da NE ČUJEM NA LIVO UHO . Ona mislila da se sprdajem .
I tako mi se dopisujemo po papirima digod se zaleti pa počne opet mlit al samo se okrenem i kažem OPET SIDIŠ BOGU S LIVA!
Uglavno sve je super na VAKULTETU. Uto smo uvatile babu u đir oko stana, oko prometa tu sam čak i umrla od smija !

Znate vi da su cigare droga?
Ana: Je baba , Meri nabaci mi jedu cigaru u živu !
M: A neš kroz nos?
Bože vas sačuvaj samo se drogerišete i ločete !
Ana: Baba znaš ti da boca od đeka ima oni lipi kut za naslonit lakat ! Tako kad se nasloniš na bocu izgleda kao da grliš bocu !
Pijandure !
i tako baba nama objašnjava mi njoj i evo jedna snimka koju sam danas uhvatila:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVGuOUZG ... e=youtu.be[/youtube]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVGuOUZG ... e=youtu.be
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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 29 lis 2012 23:53

još jedna predivna bajka...

To Melt a Frozen Heart
by Ambyrhawke Shadowsinger

Once upon a time, there was a small kingdom which had a noble ruler. The king and his queen were kind and well loved by their people. For many years the gentle-hearted queen remained barren, and the royal advisors feared there would be no heir to the throne. But the noble king never spoke the smallest word that would cause distress to his lady, for he loved her more than throne, duty or life itself. She was his world, and he made sure everyone knew it. The bard of the realm was a close friend of the king's. They had grown up together and kept their friendship in spite of their differences in station. The bard and his lady would often spend evenings alone with the royal couple laughing and singing in the woods where the fae folk gathered. On one such evening, the four were in the woods with the fae folk listening to the elf bard sing songs in honour of her wise queen. When she paused for a moment, the king's friend stood and asked if he might sing a new song of his own, to which the elf queen eagerly agreed. The man sang a beautiful ballad about the faery ruler which he had toiled on night and day for a full turning of the moon. So delighted was she with the song that she granted him a boon...anything he desired. The bard looked to his friend. He asked for his queen to be blessed with a child, that the royal advisors might stop bothering the couple. This show of love moved the sovereign of the faeries, and she agreed to give not only the mortal queen a child but also the bard's own wife. At her word, the elf bard knelt before the two women and Sang a Song of Quickening to their wombs. Thus it was that in nine month's time, on the same day, both the gentle-hearted queen and the bard's sweet wife bore baby girls. The bard's daughter came into the world first and was named Ælfwynn, meaning "Elf joy," for it was the joy of the faery queen which brought about the blessing. The baby princess was named Ceinwen, meaning "fair and beautiful jewel," for she was as precious as any gem to her parents. Though the advisors grumbled that the child was not a boy, the noble-minded king proclaimed her the heir apparent and said the matter was closed for good. Ælfwynn and Ceinwen were reared together from the start. At first, it was the king's wish, however, in time the princess would not tolerate a separation from her friend for long. The two girls spent almost all of their time together making mischief, climbing trees, or hiding from their nurses. Most nights found them both sleeping in one or the other's bed. The four adults doted on the young girls yet never spoiled them. They comprised a solid core of love in which Ælfwynn and Ceinwen thrived. This core was, in turn, supported by a wider circle of affection from the faeries. All the others in their lives, while not cruel, concerned themselves more with what was proper than with being affectionate. As she grew up, Ælfwynn's name became more appropriate than anyone could have imagined, for she was the joy in the elf bard's life. None of the fae folk had seen the wordweaver so happy since the deaths of her wife and daughter three hundred years earlier. This was especially true when Ælfwynn proved gifted with a voice as silvery-beautiful as the elf bard's own. And well it should be, for Ælfwynn was a descendant of the wordweaver through her father. With her father's duties at court keeping him busy, the faery woman saw to the young girl's musical training. In no time at all, her fingers flew over elf-gifted harp strings like a master. She soon spent her days forging songs for Ceinwen's eternal delight. One day when they were almost sixteen, Ælfwynn and Ceinwen were walking along in the woods hand in hand. The spring sun shone down on the light green of leaves and grass. Birds chirped in the boughs overhead, and rabbits hopped along the twisting pathways. The two girls looked like sunlight and shadow as they walked along. The princess was fair with hair equal parts light brown, golden and strawberry. She had deep brown eyes that reminded one of a fawn in their softness. Those eyes now danced in merriment. She wore a long light blue dress edged with silver knotwork embroidery. The young bard stood slightly taller than the princess. Long waves of ebony hair so dark that it shone fell from her head. Her eyes, slate-grey and often thoughtful, would flash with fire when she sang, seeing worlds that existed solely because of her imagination. For now they drank in everything around her...all of her senses absorbing every detail of the day, storing them until such time as they could be transformed into bits of music or story. They stopped by a small stream where solid beams of sunlight fell upon the great moss-covered rocks. They were talking about their upcoming birthdays.

"Have you chosen my present yet?" the princess asked innocently.

The songsmith's deeper voice queried, "Why? Is there something in particular you crave?" Seeing the brown eyes sparkle, Ælfwynn smiled wryly, "Let me guess...another song mayhaps?" Ever since they were five, Ceinwen had always asked for a song as her gift, though she would get the song and other presents as well from her friend.

The autumn-gold hair swayed from the princess' shake of her head. "No, this time I want a promise. I want you to swear that you'll never leave me, Ælfwynn."

The bard looked in surprise at the suddenly solemn expression. She stood quietly for a moment, her face growing sad, "You know I'm going to become a journeyman soon...I'll have to leave."

"No, you won't. I'll have my father assign you to court."

Ælfwynn bowed her head and spoke in soft, sorrowful tones, "A promise like that won't matter in a few years' time."

"What in the world do you mean by that?" the princess asked with an incredulous look on her face."

"Ceinwen," her friend tried to make her understand, "you're going to be the queen someday. I'll just be a bard."

"That didn't matter to our fathers." Seeing the pain in the shadowy bard's expression, Ceinwen stepped back, suddenly unsure. Her words came out in a whisper, "Or is it that you want to leave? Does your heart long for adventure?"

Reaching out a hand, Ælfwynn raised the sunlight princess' chin. "No, I don't want to leave. I'm afraid that you'll forget me...."

"Promise me. Please," pled the higher voice of the princess.

Ælfwynn looked at her friend and knew that she could not refuse her, nor did she want to. Nodding her head, she agreed, "All right."

Ceinwen's face broke into a smile as she reached up and placed a light, quick kiss on the bard's lips. Ælfwynn glanced up in shock at the warm touch. The sunlight, it seemed to her, sparkled in the brown eyes a bit differently than it had before.

In her excitement over the promise, the smaller woman grabbed Ælfwynn's hands and hopped over the trickle of the brook. She smiled and urged her friend, "Promise me. Promise that you'll never leave me."

Ælfwynn caught and held the gaze before her. "I swear by the air, land and sea that I shall never leave you, Ceinwen. I will always play for you. Even if I should die, I'll find a way to bring you music."

Ceinwen gazed up at the songsmith. She spoke her own vow with conviction, "And I swear to you, Ælfwynn, by the air, land and sea, that I shall never forget you. When I am Queen, I will not ignore you. You'll always be first in my heart."

"And you'll be first in mine," the silver voice added softly. "And if I should be forsworn, then may the sky fall down upon me, may the earth swallow me, and may the sea rise up to drown me."

The autumn-haired princess nodded, "If I should be forsworn, then may the sky fall down upon me, may the earth swallow me, and may the sea rise up to drown me."

The two girls came together, hugging closely for a time, and then began to walk again. Ceinwen linked their hands together. After a few steps, she peeked up at Ælfwynn from the corner of her eye, "So what kind of song did you write me?"

The bard's musical laughter rose through the wood, a second, higher laugh quickly joining it.

Three years later in the dark of the night, footsteps were heard pelting down the dimly lit halls of the castle. A door slammed open, and a tall form burst in out of the shadows, skidding to a halt. Black hair disheveled from sleep and the wild run through the hallways framed Ælfwynn's face. Her tunic, crooked and unbelted, gave further testament to her having been asleep some five minutes previous. She panted for breath as she took in the tear-streaked face before her.

The pain in the brown eyes spurred the bard forward in a rush. Ceinwen fell into her arms with a sob, holding on to her shadowy friend as if her life depended on it. Ælfwynn pulled her closer with soft words, "Lass, I just heard. I'm so sorry...." Tears were spilling down her own cheeks as she stroked her friend's autumn-gold hair

The king and queen had both become ill. All the chirurgeons worked hard to keep them warm in the damp winter air of the high-towered castle, but soon a rattling of fluid could be heard in the gentle-hearted queen's chest. She crossed over to the next world in the night. When she had gone, the noble king just seemed to give up, and he too passed away. Ælfwynn's parents had both died within the last year. The two women held each other tightly as they slowly realized that, of all the people in the world who truly loved them, only they were left. The princess wept harder than before now that the songsmith was there, for Ælfwynn had always provided the path to the other woman's deepest emotions. The candlemarks slipped away as they sat together on the bed, shadow cradling sunlight within strong arms. After a time the king's advisor, Seneschal Emric, entered the room. He was an ancient man who had been Seneschal to Ceinwen's grandfather and her father after him. Lord Emric was tall and stately with flowing white hair. He would have been handsome in his age were it not for the frown he always wore. If there was one thing Lord Emric believed in, it was absolute propriety. Everyone had a role with certain duties and ways of acting, and these should be performed perfectly. He was one of the people who made sure things got done in life but did not much care if fun was had in the doing. Ceinwen's father had constantly confounded the man with his relaxed method of ruling.

Lord Emric came to a stop out of earshot of the princess' bed. He quickly motioned for Ælfwynn to join him. The ebony-haired songsmith disengaged herself from her friend's hold, whispering that she would be back shortly. She approached and bowed her head, "Lord Emric...."

"Ælfwynn. You may leave now," rumbled Lord Emric's barritone voice.

The woman's brow furrowed, "I beg your pardon?"

Milky blue eyes looked down at her, "You may leave. Your presence is no longer required."

Ælfwynn glanced back at the bed which held the crying princess and took a step closer to the Seneschal. "I'll not be leaving. My friend is grieving, and my presence is very much required."

"The princess will be getting dressed and leaving for the ceremony presently."

"What ceremony? The king and queen just died a few candlemarks ago, may the gods rest their souls. It's too early for the funeral."

Lord Emric crossed his arms and said lowly, "You don't know what must be done, bard."

Slate-grey eyes flashed with anger, "And you don't care what she's going through right now, Lord Seneschal. Ceinwen's just lost both her parents for Goddess' sake!"

"What's going on here?" The two looked up at the soft words. Ceinwen's eyes were red from weeping, but the tears were dried.

Though Ælfwynn moved toward her friend, Lord Emric spoke first, "Your Majesty, the vigil for your parents will start at sunrise, and as their only child, you must be there. Harsh though it may be, you are now the queen," he looked at the bard meaningfully. "And duty to your kingdom must come before personal pain."

The princess gazed at the floor for a few moments. When she lifted her eyes and nodded, there was a slight hollowness in her voice, "You are right, Lord Emric."

Ælfwynn quickly turned fully to her, offering to be by her side. Ceinwen caught her hands, drawing them both away from the tall man. She spoke to her friend, "Thank you...but I must do this alone." The expected protests were forestalled with soft fingers against the bard's lips. "I have to appear strong, not leaning against someone else. Let me do what I have to. I'll be all right, Ælfwynn."

Pained grey eyes searched the brown depths before them, and what they found caused Ælfwynn a nebulous unease in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite understand. "Are you sure?"

The shorter woman nodded, "I'm sure. Thank you for staying with me tonight. Go and try to get some rest."

Reluctantly, the silver-voiced songsmith hugged her friend and took her leave. The unease kept quietly gnawing at the back of her mind.

The next few years were busy ones for the young-crowned queen and ebony-haired bard. Each had many new duties which demanded their time. They saw each other as often as they could outside of court, but it was never as often as they hoped. In the moments they could steal away from others, they laughed together about things going on in the high-towered castle. Over time, the silver-voiced songsmith began to notice that the autumn-haired woman's laugh did not come as easily nor sound so freely as once it had. The mantle of rulership proved a heavy burden which taxed the queen's soul. And so Ælfwynn took up the battle to cheer her friend, listen or provide a shoulder...whatever was needed.

At one such time, Ceinwen asked about the bard's work, "What's this I hear about you not working on songs for Yule?"

"Why should I work on them?" the shadowy woman scoffed. "They have been finished for weeks. Everyone's just stressed because I'm not up night and day like father was."

Ceinwen smiled, "I think you dream your songs, Ælfwynn. It wouldn't surprise me if you went to sleep at night only to have them appear in the morning like magic."

Slate-grey eyes flickered over in mirth, "Well...there was that one time when your father swore he caught me writing music out with my eyes closed, fast asleep." It was a story she had never lived down, so the silence in the room startled her into looking up fully. Ceinwen's face was set in a distant, trembling mask. With determination, she struggled to regain control of herself.

A thousand clues suddenly locked into place with a jarring force. Ælfwynn cautiously tested her newfound insight, "It's okay to cry for them...."

The smaller woman stiffened, "It is not seemly for a queen to cry."

"That's Lord Emric talking. Ceinwen...it's me, Ælfwynn." She gestured to the small room, "We're alone here. You don't have to be 'The Queen' around me, you know that!" She began to dread the other's stony silence. "When was the last time you cried for them?"

The young-crowned queen turned her head away from the silver-voiced bard. Ælfwynn let out a pained whisper, "Sweet Goddess...you haven't cried since the night they passed away, have you?"

"Leave it be...."

"Lass, you can't go on like this. A person has got to grieve; you told me so yourself."

The brown eyes turned to her in weary pleading, "I don't want to cry. My friend, help me forget. Play me something happy. Please?"

"It's not good for you to forget."

"Please...." The words tore out of her small chest huskily, "If you love me, you'll do this for me, Ælfwynn."

That statement took the bard's breath away. Tears welled up in the grey eyes, and she spoke fervently, "I do love you, Ceinwen...more than you know. But what you ask of me is no act of love. I can't do it. I won’t do it."

The stony queen's face took on an expression her friend had never before seen. She shouted in anger, "I order you to play for me!"

"No...."?

"Do you forget that I am your queen?"

Ælfwynn's whole body shook with emotion, "I will never forget that I am your friend, Ceinwen. I won't help you hurt yourself like this."

The reply came out in a growl, "If you won't play, then get out of my sight!" The queen turned her back on the songsmith.

A gasp shot out of Ælfwynn's lungs as tears fell from her eyes like waterfalls. She fled the room, leaving her harp where it sat. The long halls echoed her sobs and footfalls as she made her way blindly through the high-towered castle. Unable to see past her tears, the bard's instinct guided her flight. Ælfwynn ran out of the mighty, ancient walls and into the dark of the forest. The winter wind whipped the snow about in all directions. It tore through the bard's tunic, and snow seeped into her indoor boots as she stumbled and fell into the white drifts piled high along the pathways. She felt none of the cold, so sore was her heart. When she reached the glade where she had spent so many happy times with Ceinwen, their parents and the fae folk, she threw herself to the ground. The storm's fury lessened only to be replaced by a keening wail that rose again and again from the figure in the snow. The world had no answer for the heart-shattered question of, "Why?" The storms beat down on the land with a fury that grew each day. The winds, a battle-mad monster trying to reach its enemies, buffeted the high-towered castle. All of the people within went about their tasks more subdued than usual. When the mighty, ancient walls would creak and groan under the weight of the assault, fearful whispers could be heard declaring that, surely, the gods were angry. Finally Yule had arrived, the longest night of the year. Though darkness would reign supreme on this night, dawn would see the rebirth of the god, the Sun-Child. The entire castle and surrounding populace gathered in the great hall for an eve of revelry. All fears gave way to mirth, even in the face of gloom. For how could even gods remain angry with the return of the Sun-Child? The great hall was ablaze with light from the fires in the hearths and the flames of countless candles. A moving tapestry of colors filled that vast hall as people, finely dressed, sought out their friends with well wishes upon their lips. Laughter was the order of the festivities. The autumn-haired queen sat upon her finely-carved throne at the head of the hall. Never had Ceinwen looked more beautiful than at this winter's feast. She wore a long, full gown as green as the deepest parts of the pine forest. It had a fitted bodice which laced up in the back. The sleeves were narrow at the top and flared out into long pointed drapes at the cuff. The bottom was bordered by gold embroidered knotwork lions. A gold link belt circled her waist in a V-shape with an extra span hanging down the center of her skirt. The young-crowned queen's long hair hung loose except for the red-gold circlet which proclaimed her the realmlord. Her only piece of jewelry was a crystal on a chain around her throat. Smokey in color, tongues of fire seemed trapped within, giving the appearance that the crystal lived. A small green stone was set against it as well.

The festive mood seemed to have captured even Ceinwen's spirit, for she was laughing at the antics of a tumbler when she called over her shoulder, "Ælfwynn, play us some music."

The whole of that great hall, from length to breadth, became suddenly silent. Only the wind whipping about the castle's high towers could be heard. When the silence dragged on, the queen spoke again, "Ælfwynn, I asked you to..." her words trailed off as she turned and saw only an empty place where the silver-voiced woman always sat. Looking around, the queen spotted the Seneschal, "Lord Emric, where is Ælfwynn?"

As if one being, the populace gathered in the vast hall gasped and looked nervously about. For the first time in all remembrance, tall and stately Lord Emric stumbled for words. "Your Majesty...Bard Ælfwynn is dead...."

"Dead?"

"Y-yes, My Queen. She passed away from a fever and fluid in her lungs a fortnight ago, may all the gods rest her soul."

"Why was I not informed?"

The ancient seneschal twisted his hands, "A message was sent...but Your Majesty was quite busy with affairs of state."

The woman stared blankly at the place where the silver-voiced songsmith once sat. Then she turned back, "Why was she not replaced?"

"My Queen?" Lord Emric's voice squeaked as the hall's occupants gasped again.

The queen's face clouded over, "This is Yule, and I want there to be music." In a voice that filled the space, she asked, "Who will sing me a song?"

Out of that vast emptiness a bold voice, music itself, sounded out, "I shall sing you a song, Your Majesty." All eyes turned to the speaker who stood and slowly approached the young-crowned queen upon her finely-carved throne. Her cloak billowed behind her like ravens' wings. Her tunic was the same shade of piercing blue as the flashing eyes framed by flowing raven-black hair.

Ceinwen recognized the woman approaching her at once and smiled, "Ah, the bard of the elves. It has been a long time."

"Indeed, it has been. Many things have changed since last we met." The wordweaver bowed yet kept her gaze locked on the seated woman.

"But surely some things remain the same, " the queen said lightly. "Your voice is the only one I have ever heard which was sweeter than Ælfwynn's."

The dark head inclined, "Would that she were here to challenge that claim."

A heartbeat passed before the young-crowned queen answered, "You said you would sing me a song...."

A wide smile broke out on the faery woman's face, but Ceinwen seemed to not notice the iciness within the eyes of blue, "So I shall." She gestured to the sovereign, "One fit only for a queen such as yourself. And when I am done, I shall tell you a story."

"Indeed! What is the story about?"

The wordweaver spoke in a hall-filling voice, "It is a tale of love and loyalty too poorly rewarded."

The autumn-haired queen frowned petulantly, "Should we not hear something more fitting to the mood of the season?"

"Oh, it mirrors the season perfectly, Your Majesty, and its ending is...most satisfying, I assure you." All, except the queen, who saw the elf's face felt their blood run cold.

Settling into her seat, the small woman smiled, "Very well then...sing your song and tell your tale."

The wordweaver stood behind the elf-gifted harp where it sat, ownerless, in its spot on the floor. She began spinning an intricate web of notes on the strings. The music put the entire room in a thrall. The populace fell into a deep sleep while the young-crowned queen became motionless upon her throne. Only then did the elf bard, weaver of words and power, begin to sing....

http://www.ausxip.com/fanfiction/t/to_m ... heart.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 30 lis 2012 23:42

susret arhitektice i grafičke dizajnerice... bullying...kolega psihopata

~ Just Rewards ~
by Anne Reagin

Amy was exhausted from their efforts so she knew that Kate was in even worse shape. She looked over at her tired friend and decided that she was beautiful even now. They drove in silence most of the way to Amy's house, neither feeling the need for idle conversation. As they turned in the drive, Kate automatically glanced in the direction of her building project next door.

"Your guys worked today. I saw the two vans when I came home early from work."

"Really? Well, who'd of thunk it," she joked. "To tell you the truth, I haven't given it a thought but it's nice to know you've been keeping an eye on things for me. Thanks." She reached out and squeezed Amy's forearm. The little jolt she felt was unexpected.

"Horses OK?" Kate didn't know where the question came from but she was glad that she thought to ask it.

"High and dry. I was out feeding them and mucking out stalls when I heard the radio report about flooding. By the way, Scotch said to say hello." This was a little joke that developed between them after their first meeting.

"When did you eat last?" Amy had to wait so long for a response that none was really necessary. "Never mind…we'll take care of that right away."

Kate was used to giving orders, not taking them, but she was weary. When Amy started drawing a hot bath and pushed Kate in the direction of the bathroom, she went quietly. That accomplished, Amy headed into her bedroom to put on some of her own clothes. As she started to pull Kate's worn jersey off over her head, she recognized the distinct fragrance she associated with the builder. She stood there trying to distinguish all of its components. She recognized pine, musk and something else she couldn't put her finger on. Lost in thought, she absently pulled the jersey back on and went into the kitchen. By the time Kate came out of the tub, she had color in her face again and her hands and feet no longer felt as if they were freezing. She redressed in her discarded clothes. She pulled a brush through the dark tangles of her hair then followed the aroma of food to find Amy browning potatoes in a black iron skillet.

"Have a seat. This is almost ready. I didn't take time to do anything extravagant." She turned and sat a plate of grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches on the table. "The dietary values are absent from this meal, but I know it will be filling. We'll worry about vitamins at a later date."

She filled their coffee cups and sat down to eat. Kate was trying to restrain from wolfing her food. She'd had no idea how hungry she was. The phone rang and Amy held a brief conversation with an unidentified caller.

"Sorry, I have plans already and really can't cancel. Thanks anyway." The younger woman spoke softly, but Kate realized that she was turning somebody down for a date and would have loved to know who.

Suddenly irritated at the possibility, Kate offered a half-hearted apology. "I'm sorry about imposing like this Amy."

"Don't be ridiculous." She heard the note of sarcasm in her friend's voice. "I have plenty of room and besides I'm just as eager to help out the Wilsons as you are. I may not know them very well but they seem really nice."

Kate's thoughts shifted from Amy's social life to the potential disaster they combated all afternoon. "I hope the water doesn't rise enough to flood the house. I've got my fingers crossed. You know, bad as their situation is, I know other people must already have water inside. I'd really like to take the boat out tomorrow and see what it's looking like. Maybe the rain will let up so that I can."

"Can I go with you?" Kate was surprised at the request.

"Sure but what about work?"

"I left a voice mail while you were in the bath. I told them I had a friend in trouble that needed my help. I realize it's not you that's really in trouble, but you could use some help couldn't you?" Amy waited with her fork mid-way to her mouth.

"I'd really like that." Kate's voice reflected surprise and sincerity.

Amy rarely watched television but she turned the set on after dinner and both women curled up on opposite ends of the sofa to watch it. Wrapped in blankets and warm for the first time in many hours it was not long before both of them dozed off watching Xena re-runs. Sometime in the small hours after midnight, Amy started to stir. She didn't know what caused her to waken. The low light from the paid program commercial on the TV was barely enough to help her determine that she was in the den. Normally she hated to wake up on the sofa as it usually meant a backache for at least part of the day. This time the couch seemed firmer than usual. In fact she was wonderfully warm and content and had almost gone back to sleep when she realized that she wasn't lying on the sofa at all. In the night, Amy had crept from her end of the couch and was now lying half on, half beside her tall dark haired friend. Shock registered first, then embarrassment. Kate had unconsciously wrapped her in an embrace and that's how she found herself now. Panic stricken, she fought her immediate urge to jump up, realizing that would wake Kate and Amy would be busted. The rise and fall of Kate's chest didn't match the heavy breaths that she heard. She soon realized that she was listening to her own breath. As Amy gathered more awareness of her surroundings, she realized that something else was amiss as well. Kate, fast asleep, was unaware that her hand was tenderly massaging Amy's breast. As she was trying to think what to do she couldn't help but notice how good the warm contact felt. 'God but that feels TOO good. It's been so long since I've felt hands on me. Knowing that they belong to Kate...well…' She gave herself a mental slap, feeling the need to get a grip on the situation. She didn't want an opportunity to analyze her last observation right now. Amy knew she had to disentangle her limbs from Kate's and get off the sofa undetected in order to save face for both of them. Ever so slowly, she extracted herself and the tangle of her blanket. Managing finally to sit up on the edge of the sofa, she was about to rise when Kate's eyes flew open. Amy had become an expert in quick thinking long ago. Being a teenager in her mother's house required it. She learned to evade and even lie a little when it became necessary. All of that practice came in handy now as she leaned over and put her hand on Kate's forehead.

"You were restless and I heard heavy breathing." 'I didn't say it was yours.' She looked thoughtful for a moment before removing her hand. "No, I don't think you have a fever." She stood and allowed herself a sigh of relief before moving away a few feet. "I guess we ought to get up and go to bed. This sofa will break your back. You just yell for me if you need anything. Goodnight." She was on her way down the hall.

Kate was scrambling for wakefulness. She had been having the most incredible dream. When Amy woke her, she could still feel the softness and warmth of the body she had been holding against her. A mental flash of a blonde head on her chest made her realize that it had been Amy she was holding in her dream. Shaking her head, Kate sat up and tried to orient herself before heading off to her bed in the guestroom. She hoped that she would go right back to sleep and resume her dream. Meanwhile, Amy lay staring at the ceiling. Although confusion and embarrassment were wreaking havoc inside her head, the memory of waking in Kate's arms was the one that played over and over there.

http://www.xenafiction.net/scrolls/anne_reagin_jr1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 01 stu 2012 00:41

srednji vijek ... hrabra ratnica....princeza

The Gift
by Meghan O'Brien

And what I've just done to her./ v Janna turned on to her back to escape the suddenly too-intense blue eyes that stared at her, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion that overwhelmed her. I'm no better than her slavers, or any of the people who use her like a cheap toy.

"Janna?" Moira asked. She touched Janna's arm, stroking at her with tentative fingers. When Janna didn't answer, the fingers stopped their motion and Moira whispered, "Commander?"

The use of her title made Janna's blood run cold. While she had touched Moira, she had been able to pretend that things weren't really as they were. Moira wasn't really a body slave, given to her as a gesture of gratitude by her King, just as she wasn't really a warrior who felt old before her time, but appallingly inexperienced just the same. When she'd kissed Moira, when she'd been inside her, she had been able to pretend that theirs was an act of love. No more, now that stark reality slapped her in the face. Janna squeezed her eyes more tightly shut to stave off the tears that overwhelmed her. This is ridiculous, she thought, furious with herself for her apparent weakness on this night. Anger felt like a much safer emotion; it was familiar and it made her feel stronger, and so she allowed it to take hold. Fucking ridiculous, and over what? Things are as they are, and nothing I feel will change that.

"Nothing," Janna finally replied. She opened her eyes and looked over at Moira, who blinked rapidly at the look in Janna's eyes. To her credit, though, she didn't move or shrink back, but instead met cold fire with a compassionate gaze. Janna was awed by her courage -- countless men had shaken in terror at Janna's anger -- and she forced her eyes to soften. "Nothing," she repeated, more gently this time.

Moira bit her lip and looked at her. After a moment she resumed her stroking of Janna's arm with tentative fingers. Janna blinked back still more tears; growling low in her throat, she reached out and turned Moira on to her side so that the redhead's bottom pressed against her belly.

"Let's get to sleep," Janna grumbled, her voice gruff from the strain of not breaking down. She leaned up on an elbow, blowing out the candle that sat beside the bed, and drew the covers up over their bodies before lying back down. Janna pulled Moira tightly against her body, unable to stop herself from taking comfort in the girl's warmth even despite her continued guilt. Truly, she would have liked nothing more than to touch Moira all night, but her conscience wouldn't allow it.

She had taken enough from the girl. Janna closed her eyes, splaying her hand over Moira's slightly rounded belly. She listened as the girl's breathing gradually slowed, enjoying the unique scent of skin and hair so close to her nose.

Janna had been certain Moira was already asleep when the redhead covered the hand on her belly with one of her own. She heard Moira take a breath, and then she heard the girl whisper into the still night air. "I'm glad you picked me."

Shaken, Janna said nothing, and let the girl drift off to sleep in the company of silence. Janna woke at the sound of soft knocking on the chamber door. She startled awake, sitting up in the bed, and only after a confused moment registered a warm body still curled around her own. Janna looked down at tousled red hair fanned across a pillow, at a face still peaceful in sleep, and at perfect breasts bared by the blanket she'd pulled off their bodies in her rush to sit. The knock sounded again, and before Janna could answer the bedroom door swung open and a tunic-clad slave crept inside. She carried a serving tray loaded with bread, fruit, and meat, as well as a large silver pitcher. At the sight of Janna, sitting up in bed, awake, the slave girl gave a muted gasp and stopped in her tracks. Am I really that scary?

Janna held up her hand in a calming gesture. "It's all right," she whispered. She looked down at the girl who still slept -- like a rock -- beside her. Janna tugged the thick down comforter up to cover Moira's breasts, wishing to preserve some measure of her modesty; as an afterthought, she pulled it up and held it over her own bare breasts. Janna glanced back over at the serving girl with gentle brown eyes. "You can go ahead and leave the tray on the table."

The girl gave her a wide-eyed nod, stumbling over to the table and depositing the food-laden tray upon it. She smoothed down her clothing as she turned to offer Janna a nervous bow.

"I'm sorry, Commander," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you. The King wanted to be certain that you had food when you rose."

Janna held up her hand again. "Please, don't worry about it. I was just getting up."

The girl bowed once more, and then turned to scurry out of the room. The heavy wooden door eased shut behind her, and Janna looked down upon the slumbering form beside her in wonderment.

"How are you still sleeping, little one?" Janna whispered. She reached down and, after a moment's hesitation, fingered a silky lock of auburn hair.

Moira shifted a little in her sleep, and then turned to move closer into Janna's naked body. The feeling of soft breasts pressing against her hip spurred Janna into quick action. She leapt forward on the bed, throwing the comforter from her body and, she noted with some ambivalence, exposing Moira's pale flesh. Moira groaned a little, and then opened big blue eyes in sleepy confusion. Janna scrambled to her feet next to the bed and looked down upon the languid girl who still lay there. Moira blinked at her, and then propped herself up on her elbow.

"Are you okay?" Moira yawned. She sat up slowly, stretching like a graceful cat. "What's wrong?"

Janna didn't answer as her eyes were drawn to a purplish bruise on Moira's creamy throat. It hadn't been there the night before. Janna felt sick with sudden shame.

"I hurt you," Janna whispered. Her eyes were fixed on the mark her mouth had left on the girl's body; she couldn't remember putting it there. She resisted the urge to reach out and caress the area she had injured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Moira stared at Janna in mild confusion, and then she brought her hand up to touch her throat where Janna was staring. After a moment she smiled in comprehension. The smile was at first vaguely amused, and then it became playful, almost mischievous.

"You didn't hurt me," Moira murmured in a low voice. She reached out a hand towards Janna, giving her a pleased smile. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Janna squeezed her hands into fists, hiding them behind her back. She trembled with the desire to go to Moira, to climb back into bed and feel soft skin against her body again. The way Moira looked at her, almost like a lover, was as powerful a thing as she had ever seen. It was a force of nature, that look, and Janna was almost helpless to resist it. Almost. Janna exhaled, taking a step back away from the bed. She stumbled in her retreat, bringing her arms up and flailing a little for balance. Moira stared after her from her position on the bed, a sweet half-smile on her face that neither mocked nor condescended. Janna realized that she was naked, and then she was struggling into her clothing within an instant.

"Do you wish for me to leave, Commander?" Moira asked. Her voice was more tentative than it had been since she'd woken, as if she wasn't sure what to make of Janna's mood.

Janna fastened her pants, shaking her head. "I'm just... I'm going to go spar with my men." She struggled with her weapons, shooting a quick look at the naked girl who now sat in bed, arms crossed over her chest. "I can't have them thinking that just because the war's over, they can get soft."

Moira said nothing. After a moment, she shifted as if to stand up.

"No, wait!" Janna said. She was finished dressing, and so she just stood there with her hands hanging limply at her sides, uncertain of how to behave. Moira stopped her motion, sitting back on the bed and looking up at Janna with wary eyes. Janna twisted her hands in front of her, struggling with what to say.

"Yes, Commander?"

Janna swallowed, and then took a step towards the bed. "Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?" she asked.

Moira shook her head. "I'm not expected back early. It was assumed that you might require my services this morning. I don't have any more duties until this evening, at the banquet."

Janna sighed. The banquet, that's right. All the nobles getting together to gloat about a war they had no part of. She gave the girl a steady look. "You must be hungry."

It was a statement, not a question.

Moira nodded. "I can get breakfast down in the slaves' quarters."

Janna shook her head, crossing the room to pick up the tray the girl had left for them. She turned to Moira, gesturing for her to lie back in bed. Moira obeyed, watching her with strange blue eyes as Janna brought the tray over to rest on the bed beside her.

"I guarantee this is better," Janna said. She picked up a piece of fruit, giving Moira a gentle smile despite herself. "Look, they even have strawberries."

Moira leaned forward and, with breathtaking grace, took a bite from the red berry Janna held in her fingertips. Janna was instantly aroused.

"I... I've got to get going," Janna blurted out. She drew her hand back as if it had been burned, and then reached up and squeezed at the back of her neck with her fingers. "I want you to just... just stay in bed and eat. You go ahead and leave when you're ready; I won't be back."

Moira swallowed the fruit, giving her a wistful smile. "Yes, Commander."

Janna resisted the urge to lean down and take the redhead's lips in a desperate kiss. It would be so easy to stay, to spend the morning in bed with the beautiful girl. She seemed willing, even, weakening Janna's resolve, but Janna reminded herself that it wasn't as if a body slave could truly consent to her attentions.

Janna gave the girl a regretful smile, starting a slow backwards walk to the bedroom door. "Have a good day, okay?" she said.

Moira cocked her head, gave her a confused smile, and nodded once as she fled from the room. "Thank you, Commander. And you, too."

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=634 ... egift.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 01 stu 2012 19:23

Male zeke skaću stalno ,se vesele... Crvene im oke ,šapice im bele. Jedan mali zeka skakao je tako , upao u farbu pa je onda plako .
Sad je zeka roze od glave do pete, osem roze njuške nema veće štete .
Svestan da je sladak, mio i šarmantan .Odlući se zeka da postane gadan . Mali zeka, mali zeka!

Vrebao je dugo ,čekao u mraku. Spreman da iskoristi priliku baš svaku! Imao je sreće nije mnogo čeko ,čuo je iz zbunja "gde smo mi to seko?"
Gleda ljudske krvi ,prikrao se zeka . Uplakanu decu spazi iz daleka . Sevnule su oči , pregnuo se bata , rozna pufna skoći dokopa se vrata!
Mali zeka , Mali zeka.

Kad je batu ubio pogleda u seku , baš bi rado gricnuo arteriju neku! Malena devojčica branila se muški pa je zeka dobio par čuški po njuški.
ah....
Ve se čudo jedno naručito zečji ,posle dva minuta ode život dečji . Kad se sve završilo odmako se zeka , briše rozno krzno ,glasno se cereka. Kad ga budu pitali :"zeko cemu sve to?" Hrabro ce im priznati : "nemam pojma eto!"
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Zadnja izmjena: str8faith, dana/u 01 stu 2012 20:17, ukupno mijenjano 1 put.
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
Pridružen/a: 21 svi 2012 21:56
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 01 stu 2012 20:15

U jednoj srečnoj štali rodila se mala krava, gazda kaže da je lila. Baš ko da je milka prava!
Novinari banuli, fotkali ,slavili , teletu bi posvetili svako svoje slovo! Slatko su se najeli ,napili i zaspali.Nitko nema takvo tele kao što je ovo!
A u to isto vreme , na drugom kraju šume . Zeka se jako brine , vrti glavom , ne razume!
Za pokolj ga optužili ,odvukli i zaključali u zatvoru dodelili mu jedno mračno mesto . Mediji ga pratili ,volili i shvatali , svejedno su ga nazvali i slikali ga često !
Al otkad lila tele osvaja sva ljudska srca , za zeku ne zna nitko i on sad od tuge šmrca!

Rešetke razvalit ce i pobeci ce , spalit ce , uništit ce svakoga tko pušta ga da čeka . Slavan opet postat će i pre no što ga obese videt ce to glupo tele tko je rozi zeka!
"Nisam ljubomoran , nisam samo mi je krivo jer to tvoje lila realno je sivo!"

Bežanje je bilo lakše ,nego mrkva kad se brsti ! I čuvare je lako smako iako su bili čvrsti ! U kukuruz se maskirao ,lagao , folirao da bi što pre stigao do teleta i štale ! Dugo je stopirao , vozače masakrirao ,sada tele vidi kako šanse su mu male !

Tele sad već beše krava , ali ne zna da se brani ! Oduvek je zeka hteo dobrom šniclom da se hrani !
Dok gušu joj je vadio i krvavo se sladio kravica na samrti mu reče kako greši!

"puko si sad maleni , jer ja ti nisam jedina još jedno lila tele u komšiluku se smeši!
Ma koliko bio mali , ma koliko bio strašan bolje ispovedi se dok još si na slobodi! Lila je stoput lepše nego tvoje glupo rozo priznaj da ljubomora te vodi!"

"Nisam ljubomoran , nisam samo mi je krivo jer to tvoje lila realno je sivo!"
to zeka reče , brekla je i uteče!
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Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 02 stu 2012 00:18

sport...zgodne žene...akcija na sportskim terenima

Driven
by Susanne Beck and TNovan

It was a week later, and Hodge was curled up in her blankets, feeling warm and safe and very relaxed. She could smell bacon and eggs and fresh coffee, and her stomach growled, reminding her how good it was to be home. She opened her eyes to find the familiar surroundings of her own bedroom, or at least what had been her bedroom before she moved away to college. Now it was the haven of her oldest brother, who had easily given it up to her for the few weeks she’d be staying. The bedroom she’d remembered had morphed into that of a typical teenage boy, a little messy, and strewn with posters of the latest rock stars and bikini clad sex kittens. But it was still home, and that was all that mattered. Outside, she could hear the boisterous shouts of her brothers as they pursued their favorite Saturday morning pastime—basketball.

Rolling out of bed, she moved to the window and lifted it, sticking her head out to confirm that there was a mean game of Horse going on below her. “Morning guys.”

“Hey Kitty Cat!” Her father stopped in mid shot to greet her.

She smiled; the only person on the planet who could get away with that nickname was her dad. Her bothers all joined in yelling at her, encouraging her to come down and play ball with them.

“In a little bit. I need coffee.”

“You shouldn’t drink coffee, big sister, it’ll stunt your growth.” her oldest brother, Michael called up as he stole the ball from his father.

“Don’t give up your day job, Mike,” was her droll reply as she closed the window and turned to grab her clothes.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, drawn on by the savory scents of her mother’s cooking. As soon as she entered the room, her mother pressed a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

“Morning Mom.”

“Did you sleep well?” the older woman asked as she went back to preparing breakfast for her troop.

“Like a rock,” she replied, taking a long sip of coffee. “Mm. This is good.”

She slid into her seat at the table, and immediately noticed the morning paper, which was opened to the employment page. Her mother had obviously been hard at work. Various teaching jobs were circled in bright red ink. With a silent sigh, she shook her head and put her cup down on the table, deciding to ignore the blatant hint until she’d woken up more.

Hodge’s mother frowned as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs before her daughter, noticing the ignored paper. Turning, she made her way back to the stove. “I ran into Mrs. Culpepper today at the beauty parlor,” she mentioned in an offhand voice.

Hodge winced, then dug into her food. “How’s she doing?”

“As well as can be expected, given her age.”

“Mom! She’s hardly ancient.”

“No, but she’s getting close to retirement age. She’s going to need a good, dependable teacher to take her place when she leaves.”

Hodge shoved another forkful of eggs into her mouth, refusing to be baited. “And I’m sure she’ll get one, when the time comes.”

Marion Hodges laid down her spatula and turned toward the table. “Catherine, you’ve been home for almost a week now. I’m not trying to push you out of the nest or anything, but don’t you think it’s time you thought of your future?”

“Mom, I am thinking about my future. Every minute of every day. Believe me.”

“Catherine….”

“Mother, we’ve been having this argument every day since I’ve gotten home. I know you only want what’s best for me, but you have to realize that I want that too.”

“I know, honey, but basketball….”

“Is what I want to do with my life, Mom. If I can.” Laying her knife and fork back down on the table, she faced her mother directly. “Mom, Dylan Lambert herself came down to invite me to camp. She thinks I’m good and you know she was the best.”

“Yes she was the best and look what happened to her. She was injured and now…”

“And now she’s a head coach. Besides that’s not going to happen to me.”

“Do you suppose the great and mighty Dylan Lambert had the same conversation with her mother?”

“Mom…” Hodge whined and let her head drop to the table.

To her great relief her dad and bothers came charging into the kitchen in search of food. The need to feed her family soon distracted the elder woman from nitpicking at her daughter.

Matthew, third eldest at 14, sat down and nudged her with his elbow. “What’s wrong sis?”

Hodge jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her mother.

“Oh,” Matthew said, knowingly. He too had been the focus of his mother’s loving, but annoying attentions. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” She lifted her head and smiled at his. “How’s it going Pee Wee?”

“Not bad. I got an A on my Trig final, so I’m pretty pleased.”

“That’s great. It’s nice to have one math whiz in the family. I’ll hire you to be my accountant when I turn pro.”

“It’s a deal.” He scooted closer to his sister and whispered, “So did you really meet Dylan Lambert?”

“Yup.”

“Please tell me she’s really beautiful.”

“Oh little brother, you have no idea.”

Matthew’s cheeks reddened. “Man. Think you can get me tickets to come see you play?”

Hodge smiled at her brother’s simple and unquestioning acceptance of her dream. “As close to the court as I can get ‘em, Pee Wee.”

“Thanks, sis. You rock!”

http://xenafiction.net/redir.cfm?sn=599 ... iven01.htm
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 04 stu 2012 21:18

polako se bliži kraj godine...evo jedne božićne priče

~ Twelve Days ~
by Colleen

Giant candy canes twirled and gingerbread boys and girls danced around the tall evergreen, twinkling with multi-colored lights. Huge presents wrapped in sparkling paper and tied with puffy red bows littered the fluffy white covered ground. The luminescent, winter wonderland was nestled in the corner of the small indoor mall. Parents and children lined up thirty long, waiting for their turn to visit the jolly old elf. Some of the wide-eyed youngsters reviewed their lists with a parent or a sibling and some fidgeted and complained of the long wait. But one young boy was mesmerized with the toy train that zoomed in and around the big tree and festive gifts. He watched as the blue engine pulled the other cars over a little bridge and through the long tunnel. In one hand he clutched his favorite toy, a tiny stuffed bear and the other held onto his mother's coattail. His green eyes stayed glued to the racing train as the line inched forward. They would be the last visitors of the day as the closed sign was put up right behind them. His mother had told him why they were there, but he hadn't really paid attention. He was just glad they weren't shopping, that was so boring. Twenty minutes later and it would finally be their turn next. Someone ruffled his bright blonde hair and he looked up and smiled at his mother. She knelt down next to him and removed his heavy brown coat for his picture with Santa.

"Do you remember what you are going to ask for?" she asked as she straightened the collar of his green, button down shirt.

The little head bobbed. "Uh huh," he said. Then a small finger pointed to the display behind them. "I wish I could have one of those," he added in his little voice.

The woman chuckled to herself. It wasn't something he had wanted before, but after seeing his reaction to the cars clacking along the railroad tracks, she wasn't surprised. It was only twelve days until Christmas and she had already purchased all of his presents, including the one fairly expensive item, for which it had taken her months to save up. A small, bright blue bicycle with training wheels sat in the storage room of their apartment building, just waiting for the big day. Maybe I can still get him a train if we get that bonus check at work, she thought. This would be the first Christmas that he would really remember and Taylor Shafer wanted everything to be perfect for her son. Her job at the catering company just brought in enough money to keep them in their small apartment and provide food for the table. Taylor was no stranger to financial struggles. She had lived that way her whole life. She could just never seem to catch a break. But when her beautiful son came into her life, Taylor vowed to work day and night to make sure he had everything a child needed. The one thing he needed most was love and that she knew she could provide in a never-ending supply. The blonde headed boy suddenly jumped when he heard the booming voice yell out with a string of ho, ho, hos.

"Guess it's our turn." Taylor stood and started toward the red suited gentleman, but the child grabbed her and halted her movement. He then ducked behind her legs and buried his head. "What's wrong Sweetie?" she asked. "It's just Santa. I thought you wanted to sit on his lap and tell him what you wanted for Christmas."

"No!"

Taylor briefly caught the eyes of Mrs. Claus as the gift giving couple watched the scene. She bent down to talk to her distraught son. "Okay, you don't have to sit on his lap or even talk to him. But will you go over there and stand by him so I can have a picture?"

"No Mama, no! I don't want to!"

Taylor was definitely disappointed, but she certainly wasn't going to traumatize her son. She pulled him into her arms and hushed his fears. "It's okay Honey. You don't have to do it. I'm sorry he scared you." She gently dried his falling tears with her long fingers.

Mrs. Clause watched with misty eyes at the tender parent and child moment. She bent over and whispered something into Santa's ear and the hefty, crimson-clad man got up from his huge throne and slipped away behind the painted, wooden backdrop. The small, plump woman with the gray bun on her head grabbed a red and green swirled sucker from the basket beside her and carefully approached the upset duo. Taylor got a closer look at the soft, green eyes behind the tiny wire rimmed glasses perched on the button nose as the woman came near. They smiled at one another. Taylor had some idea of what she was trying to do. The youngster's tear filled eyes looked up from his mother's shoulder when he heard the footsteps across the crunching fake snow.

"Hello," Mrs. Clause said softly, trying not to scare him any more.

Uncertain green eyes looked from the smiling stranger to his smiling mother. Finally he decided that the newcomer wasn't too bad. "Hello," he responded shyly as he was lowered to the ground.

Mrs. Clause twirled the small lollipop between her fingers asking his mother the unspoken question. Taylor nodded.

"Would you like to have this?" the gray haired woman asked.

His mouth watered at the delicious candy before him and he started to reach out for the treat, but pulled back. His head tipped way back to see his tall mother's face. "Can I Mama?" he asked.

He received permission, but was informed that it must wait until after dinner. He smiled coyly as he took the sweet and with just a tiny nudge from his mother he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Mrs. Clause. "What is your name?"

"Travis."

"It's nice to meet you Travis. You're a very big boy, what are you eighteen, nineteen?"

He giggled. "No! I'm almost four," he stated proudly, holding up four little fingers.

"Four!" The woman exaggerated her words to make the child feel very important. "Wow, I've never met anyone who was almost four years old." The woman pointed over toward the tree. "I saw you looking at that train over there. How would you like to help me play with it for a few minutes?"

The crowds of shoppers hurried all around the little wonderland, attending to their own business, paying no attention to the trio. Christmas songs from traditional Crosby to bluesy Elvis to modern Streisand flowed not so smoothly through the staticky public address system. But all the bustle dwindled down to a flutter as Taylor Shafer watched her young son laughing and playing when just minutes before tears were rolling down his red, wind chafed cheeks. But the woman behind the St. Nick's spouse disguise had quickly returned him to his carefree world. Taylor's smile grew wider as Travis's eyes did the same with each new discovery he made. The tall woman suddenly remembered the camera around her neck and quickly began capturing the Kodak moments. For another fifteen minutes, Mrs. Claus worked her magic, playing with Travis and making him laugh. Taylor thought how unusual it was. He was always so leery of strangers and while that was a very good thing for his safety, it did sometimes hamper special occasions, as with Santa earlier. But he certainly wasn't afraid now. Somehow this woman had garnered his immediate trust.

After half a dozen flashes, the red clad woman took Travis by the hand and slowly led him over to Santa's chair, talking to him all the while. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. "Boy, I'm a little tired," she said. "I need to sit down for a while." She took a seat in the big cushioned chair.

Travis's mother laughed silently as her son's new playmate was nearly swallowed up by its enormous size. The child was distracted, checking out the old fashioned rocking horse that sat next to the chair. He pretended to pat its wooden nose and giggled when it began moving.

"Would you come up here and sit on my lap?" Mrs. Claus cautiously asked.

He was a boy of few words. Travis's blonde head just nodded quickly and he climbed up with just a little help. She settled him onto her lap and reached around and gave him a quick hug. She whispered in his ear. "Look at Mama and smile."

With a quick flash of light, the tall woman held out her arms for her little boy. He scrambled off the big chair and was quickly scooped up and tickled around the neck with several snorting kisses.

Mrs. Claus misted over again at the sweet display of affection. She was a sucker for a mushy moment and didn't care if the whole world knew. The small woman walked over to the giggling pair and addressed the dark haired mother. "I know it wasn't exactly what you wanted, but I hope it was alright."

"It was perfect. Thank you." They smiled and their eyes held for several long seconds.

"You know," said the shorter woman, "I was just about to go and have some dinner. Would you two join me?" The invite might have been for both of them, but her gaze never left the pretty blue eyes.

Taylor finally looked over to her son and tickled his belly. "What do you say Travis, should we have dinner with the nice lady?"

Again he just nodded his answer.

Mrs. Clause grinned at the pair. "Good. Give me a few minutes to change and I'll be right back."

Taylor watched the other shoppers scurrying about the mall with their loaded down bags, glad that most of her shopping was done. It was not a task she enjoyed. Although she loved choosing things for her son, shopping was a chore best left to others like?Ben. If it were possible, the man could spend a dozen hours at the mall, run home for a quick shower and return for a dozen more. He was an enigma among men. After just a few minutes, the former Mrs. Claus came around the corner slinging a small purse over her shoulder and adjusting the gray, wool coat draped over her arm. Taylor looked up and was instantly captivated. Of course she had known the woman wasn't really a senior citizen, but what she didn't imagine was that under that gray wig and plump suit was someone so young?or so beautiful, with her short, golden hair and dancing, green eyes.

"Okay lets go." She laughed. "I guess I should introduce myself first," she said, holding out a delicate hand. "I'm Corridan Sterling. But my friends call me Cori. And I have defiantly decided that you are my new friends."

The taller woman was still struck speechless. "Oh?yes?I'm Taylor, Taylor Shafer."

"Well," said Cori, "let's eat. I'm starved."

Taylor lowered Travis to the ground and took his hand as they set off down the mall. Halfway to their destination, Cori felt a little hand slip into hers. She looked down to see the boy smiling shyly. She grinned back and gave his hand a soft squeeze. Taylor had watched the simple exchange and it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She couldn't figure out for the life of her, why she felt like crying, albeit happy tears. Soon the hungry trio was entering the festive restaurant, a place called The Pear Tree. Although quite crowded because it was prime dinnertime, they did manage to get a small three-sided booth in the back. Taylor perused the children's menu, picking out a meal for her son before deciding on a fish dinner for herself. She was careful to check the prices before ordering, not wanting to take advantage of her new friend's generosity. Again, Taylor pondered how she could consider someone she had known such a short time and hadn't even said a dozen words to, a friend. But it was true. Travis busied himself coloring on the paper menu that had been placed before him. Taylor watched with a smile as Cori practically devoured the plastic coated menu in her hands. Cori always had terrible time deciding which meal to order, they all looked and sounded so delicious. With a last debate, she finally decided on the sirloin smothered in mushrooms and melted Monterey Jack cheese. They engaged in small talk as they waited for the meals to be prepared. They both discovered that they were born and had lived their whole lives in Minneapolis. Even more surprising was the fact that they had, at one time, lived just a few blocks from each other and had attended the same school for two years until Cori's parents had moved again.

Taylor spoke of her estrangement with her parents, but didn't elaborate as to the reason why. She smoothed her son's fair hair. "Travis is the only family I have, except for my best friend Ben." She sighed. "It's hard being a single parent." She addressed her son. "But you're worth it, ain't ya?"

He grinned and nodded, even though he didn't understand what she meant.

Cori took a sip of her coke. "I know what you mean about being a single parent," she said. "My daughter is four months old. But I am very lucky that she has two grandparents that are just crazy about her. That's where she is tonight. They totally supported my decision to have a baby on my own. I don't know that I could have gone through with it without them."

All through the meal they continued to discover more things about one another. Their questions flowed free and easily, neither one feeling inhibited or intrusive. Cori found out that Taylor worked at a company called Exclusive Catering and Party Prep. But Taylor quickly held up a hand. "Don't let the catering part fool you though, I don't do the fancy cooking. I'm more in the prep department. I set up the chairs and tables, dance floors, small stages and sound systems, tents in the summer. And sometimes I tend bar."

Cori was genuinely interested. "I bet it's busy, especially this time of year?"

"Oh yeah. But that's a good thing because it allows me to get some much-needed overtime. I could have worked tonight?" Taylor's eyes drifted over to her son and softened. "but we needed to spend some time together."

Cori gave a small groan at herself. "And I've intruded. I'm so sorry."

The dark head snapped back. "No! Not at all! Please don't worry. Really, I thank you for what you did back there. That was very special." She paused a moment as they're eyes held once again. The blue eyes finally broke away, a bit flustered. "And it's been really nice talking to you. Outside of work I don't get much adult companionship. So, tell me about you."

The blonde spoke fondly of her career as a portrait photographer, again imparting how lucky she was to have her studio attached to her house so she could still spend plenty of time with her baby. "So what do you like to do in your spare time?" Cori asked, wanting to know much more about her new friend.

"I haven't had any spare time since Travis came along. When work is slow I try to pick up part time jobs to fill in the money gap. They usually involve odd hours. Luckily I have a very reliable and flexible child care provider." Taylor twirled the ice in her nearly empty glass and frowned. "But I may be losing her soon. Her husband may be transferred. I'm not sure what we'll do then."

An idea germinated in Cori's head, but she figured it was just a little to soon to spring the idea. Taylor leaned over and covered Travis with his coat. He had scooted down and fallen asleep on the red padded bench, his half eaten lollipop still clutched in his hand.

The smaller woman's forehead wrinkled with remorse. "I've kept you out too late, haven't I?"

"No, not at all. Don't worry about him. He can sleep anywhere, anytime. I only wish I was that free to be able to do that." She lifted her glass. "To childhood," she said. Cori agreed and tipped her glass to meet Taylor's. The tall woman smiled warmly. "Really though, I have had fun tonight Cori."

The blonde detected just a touch of shyness behind that smile and was greatly endeared to this woman's charms. "So have I. How about we have some more fun tomorrow night? Would you like to go see a movie with me?"

"They still making those?" joked Taylor. "Truthfully, that would be nice, but I am a little short on money, especially this time of year. But thanks for asking."

"Actually I have two free passes. A customer gave them to me and it's no fun to go alone. They've been setting on my desk at home for three weeks." She saw the blue eyes hesitate again. "I can even offer some free baby-sitting, if you would trust my parents."

Taylor really wanted to see Cori again, whether it was a romantic date or not. On that subject, she just couldn't quite make up her mind as to Cori's preferences. "I?would they really want to sit for a baby and a three year old?"

Cori laughed out loud. "Are you kidding? They love kids. They're just counting the days until Kylie is old enough to play with." Those green eyes took on a slightly more serious gaze. "They couldn't have any more children after me and I know they really missed that. I think that played just a little part in my decision to have a child at this early time in my life instead of waiting until I got married."

Taylor's heart sank in her chest with Cori's final words. Oh well, I can still use another good friend.

Cori brightened. "So how about it, you on for a movie tomorrow night? We can share a popcorn."

Taylor knew she couldn't resist that smile. "Okay, sounds fun."

"Great!" Cori's cherubic face took on a decided childlike quality when she asked, "How about we share a dessert now? I try to be good and watch the sweets?when I'm alone. But since I now have a partner in crime I won't feel so bad."

Taylor just grinned and shook her head as she handed the wide-eyed woman the dessert menu. After their little trip to chocolate heaven, Cori paid the bill and left a generous tip as Taylor picked up her son and wrangled the still sleeping child into his coat and hat. Cori laughed at the humorous predicament and lent a hand with a sleeve and a zipper.

"See, I told you he could sleep through anything." Taylor leaned the thirty pound child against her shoulder and slung her backpack over her other arm as she followed Cori out.

Taylor insisted on walking the small blonde to her car, not trusting the darkened parking lot, hoping two women with a child would be a less desirable target for any lurking hooligans.

Arriving at the green Chevy Tracker, Cori unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat. She turned on the engine and the heat sprang to life, quickly filling the small interior. "At least let me drive you over to your car," she implored. Taylor had told her that she had to park in one of the smaller back lots.

If not for her son, she might have refused, but she walked around the front of the purring car and got in, reveling in the warmth. In a short matter of minutes, they had arrived behind Taylor's old faded out Ford. It had seen better days, but it still got her back and forth to work and that's all that mattered to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow night then Cori." Taylor hoped she would remember to remove Cori's business card from the pocket of her jeans before she tossed them in the wash. After that short thought, Taylor felt a kiss placed on her cheek.

"Night Taylor. Night Travis," she whispered to the snoozing child.

Taylor was still stunned at the small gesture of affection and was once again confused as she got out of the car, climbed into hers and buckled Travis into his car seat. With just a few sputters, the automobile gruffly roared to life as Taylor gave a short shake of her head. Adding a small sigh, she quickly decided that that's exactly what it was, just a friendly gesture of affection. She was just thanking me. For what? Taylor thought it over for just a few seconds. For walking her to her car?that's it. I mean, she said she wants to get married one day. It couldn't have been anything else. Easing out of the parking spot she lamented over the fact that she had not had a date since Travis was born. Even before that, dating had not been a top priority with her. She had gone out from time to time with some very nice women during her short stay in college, but nothing ever escalated into a serious relationship. That's it, she finally decided. She just wants a friend. She leaned to look toward the back seat. Plus, she was bewitched by my best little guy. I can certainly understand that.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/colleen_td1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 05 stu 2012 23:29

osjećaj krivnje zbog smrti brata....alkoholizam i droga... Blue Eyes, The Rhythm of a Broken Heart

~ Blue Eyes ~
by Alex Tryst

Blaring music pumped through Dylan's veins as she stood at the bar watching the sea of people on the dance floor. The myriad of lights made it almost impossible to see anyone's true identity. She had been coming here with her friends for the past several weekends, just observing the crowd and wondering if she would ever find a woman of interest. Eyes straying to her friends, she saw that they were lost in the music as they danced in a small circle with each other. Figuring she should join the fun, the redhead threw back her drink and set the glass on the bar. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of blue eyes at the other end of the bar staring at her intently. The woman looked young but intense with the way she brazenly gazed at Dylan. Not knowing what to do the redhead just stood motionless trapped in those eyes as her admirer started for her.

"Hi," the shorter woman greeted when she reached Dylan.

"Hello. How are you?"

"Wonderful now that I've laid my eyes on you," she flirted with obvious confidence.

Dylan smiled brightly and gave a small chuckle at the line. However, she was intrigued, so she inquired, "May I buy you a drink? You look like you're almost out."

"Sure. Dirty martini."

Waving to the bartender, Dylan summoned him over. "The lady would like another dirty martini, and I'll take another pint of Guinness."

"Guinness, how can you drink it?" the stranger asked conversationally.

"It's like milk to us Irish. Life just wouldn't be the same without Guinness." She paused a moment to pay the bartender when he set the drinks down on the bar. Turning back to her guest though, she handed her the fresh martini and asked, "So, what's your name?"

Blue eyes twinkled in the light as the brunette replied, "I'm not telling you."

"All right. Well, do you want to know mine?"

"Not yet. Right now I'm still enjoying the anonymity. Is that okay with you?"

"I'm game," Dylan answered. "How about how old you are? Will you give me that much?"

"I'm twenty-seven. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three."

Dark brows quirked at the answer. "No offense but you seem much older."

"I know. Life experience shows on my face. We New York firefighters are like that."

"Firefighter, huh?" the brunette questioned, reaching out to touch Dylan on the forearm. "No wonder you're wearing that t-shirt. I was wondering if that was the real thing or just a nod to our city's finest."

Letting the warmth of the stranger's hand suffuse her skin, Dylan decided to play along further. Leaning in she whispered near the brunette's ear, "I'm the total package. Been doing this for five years now."

"Five years. Then must have lost a great deal of friends when the Towers fell."

"I did. Worse though is the guilt having been stuck in the rubble and surviving. That screws with one's psyche."

"I'm sure it does, but look at you now," the shorter woman said, taking a step closer to Dylan. "Strong, sexy, a survivor. I bet you make women's heads turn when you walk the street."

Feeling an arm snake around her waist, Dylan just grinned. She liked how direct this woman was. "Enough about me. Tell me about you. What do you do?"

"As little as possible," she replied, taking a large sip from her glass.

"An uptown girl?" the redhead asked.

The blue-eyed woman nodded. "Daddy's girl and proud of it. Occasionally though I like to come downtown," she sexily uttered as her eyes moved down the firefighter's body.

"Don't we all?" Dylan responded. "So, then how do you spend your day if you don't work?"

"However I want. I do what I want, when I want, and how I want."

Emboldened by the older woman's subliminal signals, Dylan slid an arm around the brunette's waist. Pressing her lips to the stranger's ear, she inquired, "If that's the case, then tell me what you want from me."

Locking eyes again the shorter woman answered, "I want you to ask me to dance."

Dylan nodded. Taking her beer from the bar, she quickly downed it before turning to her company. "Would you like to dance?"

"Yes, I would," she answered, taking the last sip of her martini. She took Dylan's outstretched hand and let herself be led to the floor.

The firefighter had every intention of staying at a respectable distance at first, but it was obvious her guest had other ideas, because they were soon pressed body to body. Dylan groaned lightly at the feeling of this sexy stranger against her. The petite frame she possessed felt so good against her own body mass. It had been such a long time since she had felt a woman this closely. Deciding to get bolder, Dylan let her hands roam over the brunette's back across her hips before rest against the seat of her slacks as they ground together sensually with the music. Blue eyes met hers at that action, but the shorter woman didn't protest. Instead she responded in kind, her hands slipping into the back pockets of Dylan's jeans.

Leaning toward the stranger's ear, she complimented, "You are incredibly beautiful. Did you know that? You have such sexy eyes."

"Thank you for thinking so. That means a lot coming from someone with such a hot body. Muscles turn me on so much," the older woman said as her hands began to move again.

Dylan groaned slightly as fingers shot up the back of her navy t-shirt, nails scratching lightly over her skin. For a brief moment her mind pondered if the smaller woman did that during sex. Dylan always enjoyed the feeling of a woman's nails digging in, clutching fiercely to her in the throes of passion. She gave a shuddering exhale. Blue eyes gazed at her knowingly.

Dylan knew it that moment that the older woman knew exactly what she was doing. She was intentionally trying to seduce the redhead, but that fact only served to heighten the taller woman's arousal. Her long hiatus coupled with the enigmatic beauty in her arms left a need beginning to surface. Trying to engage her company even more, she nuzzled the dark hair and commented, "You have the softest looking mouth I have ever seen. It makes me wonder how good you taste." Dylan felt the brunette's chuckle reverberate in her chest as hands found perch in red hair.

Teeth scraping over the firefighter's earlobe, she responded, "Why wonder? Find out. I promise you won't be disappointed."

With that encouragement Dylan decided to go for it. Threading her left hand through the stranger's long brown hair, she cupped the back of her head. Their eyes met, green catching blue in a fierce gaze. Somehow Dylan didn't think this lady was looking for a tame, chaste kiss, so she went with her instincts, diving forcefully onto the brunette's mouth. She heard the deep moan as arms clung to the muscles of her bare back. The kiss was a passionate encounter as they both dueled ferociously, neither wanting to be the first to pull back. However, the shorter woman finally yanked her head back and gasped for breath.

Even though she was panting, her eyes told the story of want. "I think I need some fresh air," she said.

Dylan nodded and took her hand. Together they left the club. Once on the street, the firefighter walked them around to the side of the building to the alley. She pulled the brunette into it far enough that they wouldn't be easily seen but still in the soft glow of the street lamp. Pushing the brunette up against the concrete wall, Dylan wrapped her arms around the stranger's waist. "Better?" she asked quietly.

"Better," she whispered, pulling Dylan's head down toward her again to resume their activities from inside.

Going with the tide of emotions, Dylan allowed herself to be drawn in further to the mysterious woman's game. She knew she wanted the woman now, and furthermore, she thought the feeling was mutual. Trying to dictate their direction, the redhead pushed her right thigh between the brunette's smaller ones. A gasp ensued as petite hips rocked forward, meeting the movement. Breaking their kiss, the younger woman started on the supple neck, kissing and licking a path down from the stranger's ear to her collarbone as her hands found the buttons of the cream-colored blouse the brunette was wearing. Fingers quickly slipped them from their holes until the blouse was hanging open, exposing the treasures beneath it.

"God, you're beautiful," the firefighter groaned as she filled her hands with warm femininity. She felt her t-shirt being frantically raised and allowed the brunette to pull it all the way off her body, leaving her in only a sports bra and jeans. Moments later two hands were all over her torso, taking in the feeling of her skin and the muscles resting just beneath. Dylan didn't even know or care that her favorite shirt had just been discarded in the mire of the dirty damp alley. The only thing of which she was cognizant was those fingers raking over her skin and the humid New York summer night causing perspiration to appear on her frame.

Their bodies ground together frantically, and the younger woman knew there was only one thing left to do. Reaching her right hand between their bodies, she opened the button and zipper of the chocolate-colored pants the stranger was wearing. Slipping her hand inside, she cupped the juncture of the older woman's thighs, moaning loudly at the wetness that awaited her.

However, a gasp and strangled cry greeted the action. "No, wait," the brunette objected.

Confused but always gallant, Dylan froze in her movements and met blue eyes. "What's wrong?" she questioned. The older woman shook her head as of trying to clear her thoughts. She reached down and took the firefighter by the wrist, extracting Dylan's hand from her pants. The redhead stepped back, feeling that somehow she had crossed the line with the woman. Putting her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, she gently asked, "Are you all right?"

The older woman shook her head as she began to button her blouse to hide herself. "I'm sorry. I, uh, I think I better go," she stated.

Perplexed at the unexpected statement, Dylan asked, "What? Why?"

"I just think it's best," she answered, putting the rest of her clothes back in place.

"You're kidding. I don't understand. What just happened here?" the redhead inquired.

Blue eyes roamed over the taller woman's body before meeting green eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeated, starting to move away from Dylan.

Going with her emotions, the firefighter reacted quickly, slamming her hands against the wall on either side of the strange woman to block her escape. "You're not going anywhere," she forcefully said. Once again blue eyes met hers, but where there was once arousal showed fear. Dylan had to take a deep breath to calm down a little. "I'm sorry. I would never hurt you," she tried to assure, but she could tell she hadn't been completely successful. "Look, if you changed your mind, that's okay. I can accept that, but I deserve to know why. Why throw yourself at me like you want me to screw you and then try to run as soon as I try to do just as you want?"

The brunette broke their gaze and kept silent for a moment. Finally though she looked back into Dylan's eyes. "I never intended this."

"Bullshit. You had this in mind since seeing me in the bar. You were not shy about what you wanted. You've been playing games with me all night." She paused before asking, "Is this a part of that game? Are you some sort of tease?"

The brunette looked around uncomfortably. "Let me go," she demanded, not answering the question.

Figuring she was not going to get her answer, Dylan stepped back. Quietly the older woman stepped away and out of the alley. The firefighter watched her, wondering what has just happened to her. Reaching down she grabbed her now dirty wet t-shirt. Instead of putting it on, she merely held it in her hand as she followed the smaller woman to the curb who was obviously looking for a cab. "Hey, wait a minute."

The stranger looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"Why don't I take you home? You're not going to find a cab at this hour easily."

"I'll be fine."

"No, seriously, let me give you a ride. No strings. I promise." She could tell the smaller woman was contemplating the offer for a moment.

"Okay. Where's your car?"

"Bike actually. It's just down at the end of the block. Come on," she said, extending her hand. Getting to the motorcycle, Dylan casually climbed onto it, holding it upright and then assisted her passenger. Since her shirt was still wet, she simply held onto it with one hand as she started the bike and then raced off into the night. Feeling the brunette grasping her bare waist, the firefighter wondered if she would get another chance at her once they were back at the stranger's place. She wanted one, but she had promised that she would be on good behavior. Nevertheless, the woman's body lightly pressed into her back was refueling that fire that had started to dwindle.

Twenty minutes later they reached the older woman's building. Dylan drove the bike onto the sidewalk up near the door. The night doorman greeted them both politely. Shutting off the engine, she assisted the brunette off before getting off herself. "Well, here you are, safe and sound."

"Thank you for the ride."

"You're welcome. Should I escort you the rest of the way, or will you be all right?"

The shorter woman looked toward the bellman who was obviously trying to ignore their conversation. "Perhaps you should see me up," she replied.

"All right." Turning to the doorman, Dylan asked, "Would you mind keeping an eye on my bike?"

"Not at all."

"Wonderful. Thank you."

"Come on," the brunette said, leading the way through the glass doors. They walked silently through the lobby. Dylan could feel the eyes of the lobby attendants on her naked torso, but she tried to ignore the stares. Not a word was said as they rode the elevator up to the older woman's floor. Getting to the door, she turned toward Dylan again. "Would you care to come in?"

"All right. Sure."

Moving into the apartment, Dylan's eyes became wide. Her entire place could have fit in the foyer of the home. "You live here?"

"This is my father's place."

"Oh. And where is he?"

"He and his third wife are in Europe somewhere. I like to stay here when they're gone. My real place is just a few blocks down."

"Wow. I've never seen anything like this," the redhead mentioned, following her company into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" the blue-eyed woman asked.

"Sure. Beer if you have it."

The other woman laughed. "You won't find beer in this house. Wine or liquor are your only choices."

"All right. Well, how about some water then?"

"Water it is." Dylan watched as the older woman moved about the kitchen, getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with ice and then bottled water. Coming to where she was standing, the short woman shyly handed the water to her guest.

Meeting blue eyes, the firefighter saw that there was still an attraction between them and hoped all was not lost on their evening. "Thank you," she said taking the glass. Her hand brushed against the other woman's and caressed it gently before bringing the glass to her mouth. Her audience watched as she finished it off in several large gulps. Seeing blue eyes watching her every move, Dylan knew she should take another chance. She put the empty glass down on the counter next to her and then stepped to her hostess, closing the distance from a few feet to none. Her hand came to rest hesitantly on the woman's side.

"I thought you said no strings," the stranger shyly reminded.

"I meant it. I just see something in your eyes that keeps drawing me to you. What is it? What do you need? I can give you whatever it is. You just have to tell me."

The dark head lowered for a moment before a soft answer came. "I need you to stay here tonight."

"All right. Anything else?"

"I need you to know the truth."

"Then tell me."

"You were right. The moment I laid eyes on you at the bar, I had intentions of seducing you."

"Then once you had succeeded why did you push me away?"

"Because I couldn't do it. I couldn't use you like that. I was just angry at my ex who happened to be at the bar, and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry."

Dylan nodded. "Well, that certainly makes sense. Wicked ex-girlfriends are the worst. It's all right. I understand."

The brunette nodded. "So, why don't I get you a clean shirt to wear, and we can wash this one?" she suggested, taking the soiled garment from the redhead's hand. "I'll be right back." Several minutes later she returned with another t-shirt. "This should fit you. I'll just put yours in the wash."

Taking the gray shirt, Dylan slipped it on. It was a little small in the shoulders, but it would do for the moment. While her hostess was gone, she took it upon herself to look around the spacious apartment. Her curiosity led her to the balcony in the living room where there was an expansive view of Central Park. Several minutes later her thoughts were interrupted by a noise behind her. She turned to find the brunette just watching her closely. "So, did you want to do something in particular?" She shrugged. "Well, it is getting a bit late, and I have to work in the morning. Perhaps we should just call it a night?" she proposed.

"Of course. I forget about that working thing sometimes. Come on."

Gamely Dylan followed her leader up the staircase to the second level. Neither said anything as they moved into one of the bedrooms. "Is this your room?"

The older woman nodded. "Yeah. This is my old room. Wait here and I'll get you something to sleep in."

"That's okay. This shirt is fine."

"What about on the bottom?"

"I have a pair of shorts under my jeans."

"Oh, well, okay. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Being left alone the firefighter slipped off her shoes and jeans. Removing her sports bra, she laid all her clothes over the loveseat that was in the sitting area of the room. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Not only was she not getting laid, she was consoling a woman with a broken heart who had lead her on cruelly just to get back at her ex. She wondered if she was crazy, but there was something about the brunette. Those eyes said so much more than her hostess, and she was drawn to finding out their depths. Ten minutes later the brunette returned, looking bashful as she stood there rocking back and forth on her feet. Dylan gave a supportive smile. "Let me just go to the bathroom, and then I'll join you," she said, moving by her into the bathroom from which the older woman had just come.

By the time she came back, the brunette was sitting in her queen-sized bed, the nightstand light on a low setting. Neither woman said anything as Dylan came to the bedside which was unoccupied and casually slipped into it. On the inside she questioned what she was doing, but she acted as normally as she could. Once she was settled, the older woman turned out the light.

Silence ensued as both of them tried to get comfortable. However, Dylan instinctively felt that her hostess needed comfort that could only be provide with a physical presence. Slowly reaching over, she placed an arm across the brunette's body. Instantly she turned and faced Dylan. "Is this okay?" the firefighter asked. The brunette nodded. For several minutes they simply gazed into each others eyes as they grew accustomed to the dark. Those blue eyes even then were so intense. Unable to control herself, Dylan reached up and caressed the face close to her own. "You really are incredibly beautiful. Whatever happened with your ex, she was a fool to leave you." A small smile was the only response. Leaning into the brunette's forehead, Dylan kissed it softly.

Meeting eyes again, she saw the openness there and the need to be loved. Carefully the taller woman inched her mouth toward the brunette's, hovering near those lips she knew were so soft and waiting for a response. It only took a moment before the brunette responded, meeting Dylan's mouth gently. Leisurely they kissed. They were in no rush this time nor was there an agenda. There was simply the methodical touch of a stranger, lavishing gentle attention to a soul torn by emotional anguish. In fact Dylan was hardly even aware of how far they progressed. The pace was so unhurried that she was lying between the blue-eyed angel's trim bare thighs before she even realized they were in fact about to consummate their short relationship.

Knowing that she should play her part of a chivalrous supporter, Dylan sweetly kissed over the stranger's dark right brow. "We'll only do this if you want," she whispered.

The dark head nodded. "Please," the only word of asking.

With that Dylan completed the connection that had started hours before in the smoky bar. She wanted to love the woman in her arms in a way that would be remembered. She wanted to show her the kindness that she had so obviously not gotten from her former girlfriend. Bearing that in her mind, she gently gave herself to the brunette's pleasure until the older woman expressed her exhaustion. A few hours later Dylan woke with the sun. Turning over she read the clock and realized she had little time before needing to be at work. She looked over at the woman with whom she shared a bed. The brunette was lost in sleep, those blue eyes closed, but still looking as beautiful as Dylan had imaged the night before in her alcohol induced state. Regretfully she slipped from the bed. Dressing in her clothes from the previous night, she even put on the t-shirt the brunette had given her. She didn't want to leave just then for fear she would never see this beauty again, but she knew her duty called. Deciding to take a chance, she scribbled her name and work phone number on a slip of paper and placed it on the nightstand next to the sleeping woman. Unable to resist, she kissed the dark head and then left.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/alex_tryst_be.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 15 stu 2012 20:17

Kad svi vide ali ne onako kako bi ti htjeo
23VELJAČA2012

Sjedim u stanu s frendicama , znači Tinom njezinom kćerkom i Sunčom .I kako u kutu uvjek postaje kao neka tema koja se pretvara , da posjasnim prošli put se cijeli kut pretvorio u veliku bundevu iz koje su tekli slatkiši , sad se taj kut pretvorio u otvoreni ljes i sve tri smo išle pogledat , one su samo vidjele kostura u crvenom , međutim ja sam vidjela mladu osobu ,crne kose , crvenom kaputiću i najednom mi se učinilo kao da me pogledalo!Jeste vidjeli ovo?Koje ?Pa pogledala me!Ko?Pa ona!Meri to je kostur nema oći !ok! ( i sjednemo mi nazad u boravak i gledamo film )Najdnom kad god pogledam u pravcu štekera počne iskra plava frcati . Ok ode stvarno neš ne štima!Iz ljesa ispadne tijelo na pod , i sve tri se ustanemo .Jel vi vidite šta i ja?Da Meri kostur se diže na noge!Ali nije kostur ima i kožu koja je u raspadu no dobro, ima oči i usta .Meri kostur je!U drugoj sobi Tinina mala počinje plakati. ode ona do njeCure moramo na hitnu ima temperaturu!Sve tri se uputimo i ONO me uvati za ruku !Meri ostavi kostura doma , sutra češ se igrat s njim ! To nije kostur i al ne vidiš da me to drži a ne ja njega!Ne naslonjen je na tebe !i krenemo mi dalje , ulicu niže je bolnica idemo pješke.. tko god je vidjeo svi su vidjeli da ja vučem jebenog kostura , zašto bi ja vukla jebenog kostura. svaki put kad neko pogleda on se na mene nasloni ! Okrenem se prema njemu sad več bolje izgleda bar meni jer ga drugi ne vide !Imaš plave oči!Da,Baš sam se pitao kad češ početi pričat i pitat me neš!Čekala sam da razanmam s kim pričam iovako su me proglasili ludom pa eto još jedan dokaz više , i tko si ti?MIKEMINA(neš je tu on brzinski izgovorio nisam ga ni skužila al mislim da je reka Majk)Zvat cu ja tebe Majk . moramo se požuriti !Čekaj da te zagrlim jer jedino me ti vidiš! ( ito mene zagrli) U tom trenutku prolaze 2 časne sestre ulicom i gledaju me kao da su im oči iskočile naravo ispalo je kao da s obje ruke nosim jebenog kostura . SUPER Kad su se časne prekrižile i okrenule mi smo nastavili hodati . Tina , Sunčica i mala su ispred bolnice , mi imamo 10 koraka.Na vratima nas zaustavi zaštitar . Zapravo mene zaustavi zaštitar!Šinjorina molimo odložite to negdje da ne plašite ljude !

Po zakonu 34, sigurnosti i ljudska prava , Svoju imovinu koju držim u svojim rukam i ne želim odložiti nemože te me natjerati bez sudskog naloga! I da imam pištolj u đepu tek sa sudskim nalogom možete tražidi da ga izvadim i provjeravati dali imam dozvolu , dotle ja i moj prijatelj , možemo se kretati gdje kod hočemo dokle god on mene grli, to jest dokle god ja njega držim za ruku ili nosim!

Ali straši te ljude!Da gospodine ovo je bolnica , ako se straše kostura što nisu išli umirat na Bahame !I nastavljam dalje , gledam njih dvije one na šalteru se svađaju sa ŠALTER SVAĐALICOM !A maloj je stvarno loše!Naslonimo se i mi na šalter i ŠALTERSVAĐALICA problijedi , On se nasloni i kaže zovi doktora Strinića ! Meri jel me čula?Nije te čula!Sad me svi u čekaonici i ove 3 na šalteru gledaju!Reko je Zovite doktora Strinića!Odakle vam to? Meri odakle ti to?Pa tako je rekoOn liječi MarinuKaže da on liječi marinuKako zna? pogledam još jednom tog kostura i vidim nokte na njenim rukama , to nije muško ,već lijepo ,žensko kratke crne kose i plavih očiju!Ti si Žensko?Da Mislava rekla sam ti!da ali te nisam razumjela, primjetila sam po noktima! Marina je moja kćer i liječi ju doktor Strinić.One dvije su već otišle čim se spomenuo doktor Strinić

Znači Marina je tvoja ?Da , nih dvije sam izabrala jer sam znala da umirem i vidim da sam dobro izabrala !Uto mi prilazi čovjek , kiselog lica i bulji u mene " Gospodine molim vas slikajte nas duže će vam trajati fotografija pa će te moći stalno buljiti u nju!"i okrene se.Meri ne obaziri se ! Pa Mislava kako si umrla ? Leukemija nisam se htjela lječiti da nju živu rodim!A to objašnjava sve sad!Izlaze one iz ordanacije i gledaju nas.I počmem Tinu da napadam!Kako mi nisi rekla da mala nije tvoja?Kako ti to znaš?Pa Ona mi je rekla !Ko ona Meri , do sad je bio ono ,ono ostavi se tih igračaka i pređi u stvarni život !To što ti imaš ograničen konjski vid i što skrivaš privatni život ko zmija noge to te baš istiće ko prijatelja , meni niste mogle reći da to nije vaše dijete , da ga je Mislava ostavila vama i da je umrla od leukemije , to mi niste mogle reči ! Ali neka boli me đon kao što sam rekla to je vaš život !I uhvatim Mislavu za ruku i izađemo iz bolnice , ionako su nas svi gledali čudno , ko da ne pripadam ovom svijetu i onako će te svi umrijeti i tražit nešto o živih na ovakav ili onakav način al živi vas neče jebat 3 posto jer će biti smatrani ljuđacima, kao ja !Vračamo se nazad doma i pogleda me tim plavim očima i ja se nasmijem i zacrvenim!Meri sad mi je žao što te nisam upoznala dok sam bila živa !Možda i onda ne bi, tko zna , možda se nikada nebi srele, okrznule u tramvaju, ušle u isti tramvaj a kamoli pogledale!Da imaš pravo .Sjednemo na klupu ,kad Marina naraste reci joj da sam ju puno volila !I zagrli me ! Da reći ću joj , znat ce cijelu priču !U tom trenutku dolazi auto Tinina majka vozi!Meri upadaj znaš da će sljedeći prijevoz biti kola za ludnicu ! Da znam !Ustanem se i ostavim kostura na klupi koji se samo u krah pretvori i digne u zrak , kako sam bila okrenuta leđima , njih 3 u autu su zinule gledajuči! Uđem u auto i zalupim vrata starog stojadina i kažem IDEMO?------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Probudila sam se u 8:16 ne poznajem Mislavu , Poznajem jednu Tinu i Jednu Sunču , nemaju dijete , njih dvije se nikada nisu niti ce se upoznati i žive miljama daleko! Strinić nije doktor već ginekolog to sam maloprije proguglala
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
Pridružen/a: 21 svi 2012 21:56
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: ne želim se identificirati
Status: U braku
Lokacija: Racisce

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 15 stu 2012 20:26

Sedmica( svi dosadašnji nastavci )

Sve se dešavalo prebrzo.
Privatne škole izluđivale su me do kraja. Sva ta pristojna djeca, ulickana do savršenstva , bogat roditelji, …
Sve do same punoljetnosti mislila sam da će tako biti.
Od malih nogu otac me učio da lažem ljudima koji me ne poznaju a onima koji me poznaju da lažem još i više, ali o svom privatnim životu da ga ne spominjem.
Tako je i bilo lagala sam svima i svakome .
Naravno otac je bio na svojoj razini imao je svoje dečke.
Bili su uz njega i kad se plakalo i pljačkalo. Bili su lojalniji nego apostoli Isusu.
To društvo činilo je 7 ljudi. Nijedna žena , samo 7 muškaraca.
Kao klinka nisam shvaćala zašto bi me ispred škole čekali oni a ne moj otac.
Često bi ostajala sama sa dadiljom kad je otac bio na putu ali kad bi se vratio znala bi uvijek da mi je donio moje omiljene igračke.

On je znao da mi se škola ne sviđa pa kada bi se pretvarala da sam bolesna trenirao bi sa mnom od jutra do mraka.
Moje omiljene igračke bili su noževi.
Kupovao ih je svaki put, i to uvijek različite.
Moji treninzi su se sastojali o običnog ciljanja noža u spužvenu vreću.
Sa 12 godina znala sam rukovati sa svim vrstama.
Iako nisam shvaćala zašto to radim imala sam cilj, jedi cilj u mom životu bio je da budem član njegove sedmorice.
Godine su mi prolazile .
Tijekom tih godina naučila sam i borilačke sportove.
Od svih dakako najdraži mi je bio tajlandski boks. Čista borba tijelom , bez rukavica bez štitnika samo udarci rukama i nogama.

U mojoj 17 godini ubili su mi oca.

Danima sam plakala zašto sam imala cilj u glavi da budem dio sedmice. Osjećala sam se krivom.
Moje nasljeđe nije bilo samo materijalni dio , već sam zauzela i očevo mjesto u sedmici

ME AND THE 7 ..

Organizirati sami početak bilo je najteže ali otac je uvijek govorio
Snađi se s onim što imaš a ono što nemaš nabavi.
Oni su me prihvatili iako sam 20 godina mlađa i sa činjenicom da sam žensko.
Sad sam na vrhu organizacije a tek mi je 18 godina.
Još me paze i čuvaju kao da sam malo dijete.
Iz glave mi ne izlaze lude ideje.
Od svih sportova nastavila sam trenirati judo.
Od ponedjeljka do petka sam na treningu a subotom i nedjeljom sam sa sedmicom.
Ove subote planiramo akciju za sljedeći vikend. Subotom ujutro je samo moje vrijeme za šoping.
Sutra je petak i kad se probudim dečki me vode na razgovor.
Naravno kod psihijatra.
Iako mislim da se žele uvjeriti da nisam luda ,oni tvrde suprotno da je to želja mog oca.
Naši planovi su preveliki ali tu je i ujedno kršenje zakona.
Ali to je tek u subotu pa da se ne zamaram time.
Rijetko kada spavam jer imam noćne more.
Ne znam zbog čega ali najviše od svega boji se potresa.
Sutra ču pitat gospodina ludog (moj psihijatar) odakle mi taj strah pa ču uvrstiti i to.
U mojoj glavi ima sto ideja čak sam i dečke smiješno nazvala :
g. ponedjeljak
g. utorak
g. srijeda
g. četvrtak
g. petak
g. subota
i naravno ja gospođica nedjelja
to nam je bio paravan a i njima sa sviđa.
Moram se odmorit pokušat ču zaspat pa nastavljam sl. dan

Petak

Današnji dan prošao je normalno. Popodnevna terapija izludila me je do kraja naravno moj psihić nije normalan.
Dobila sam zadatak da na svaku njegovu riječ odgovorim bez razmišljanja. Da mu kažem što mi prvo padne na pamet pa evo:
On-ja
Ljubav-mržnja
Ljeto-zima
Crno- bijelo
Kiša-sunce
Sve je bilo normalno dok nije počeo s:
Mržnja-osveta
Strast-x(je osoba koju neću imenovati)
Bijelo- sivo
Mačka-crna
Pun-mjesec
Crveno-obruč
Da iz toga je izvukao dijagnozu koja mi se baš i nesviđa
Dao mi je test sa bokalom koji je ispunjen vodom
I pitao je kako na ovo gledam .
Gledam kao nedostatak vode da nije ispunjen do kraja.
Dijagnoza mi je bila da uvijek težim u životu nečim što me ispunjava ali nikad nisam zadovoljna.
Naravno nezadovoljna sam sa svim pa sam tako i otišla leč nezadovoljna ali otkrila sam i zašto se bojim potresa.
Kao mala ostala sam u podrumu kad je bio rat i svi su se bojali potresa.

Subota

Svoje jutro izgubila sam na šoping.
Naša akcija je bila pomaknuta u nedjelju da i to za sutra.
Moj zadatak je naći jednu osobu.
Cijelo popodne sam tražila nikako ga nisam mogla pronaći.
Rekla sam sedmici da ne mogu da je nestao.
A jedan od njih mi je odgovorio.
Razmisli malo da možeš samo tako nestati svi bi zatvorenici ovoga svita nestali.
I dok sam razmišljala o njegovim riječima sinulo mi je čovjek kojeg tražim bio je bivši zatvorenik.
Njegov dosje bio je u našim rukama.
Promijenio je ime zove se Boby Long .
Samac, visok 1,87, crna kratka kosa, tetovaža na desnom ramenu (lubanja),živi u jednosobnom stanu , radi na burzi.
Imala sam sve potrebne podatke sve ostalo oni će sutra obaviti.
Da bio je to ispit za mene. Sutra idu u akciju na bobya.

Nedjelja

Oni su svoje obavili a ja se ne miješam u njihov poso.
Jednostavno nije me bilo briga što su napravili.
Ah nedjelja je danas ,danas je dan za druženje .
Tako sam pozvala I,K,S
Pola dana smo se mi smijali na S izjavu
*ne znam zašto vi mislite da sam PARAOIČNA*

još bolja joj je *ma neki praznik ,svi sveti i ta ekipa*

joj kako smo se smijale premda i ivona i keva imaju također glupih izjava kao
*da bar imam sidu spasila bi se ili pak
ja uopće neman pluća*
kad pali Šuljuga cigaru viče *jebem ti ja tvrdi upaljač dobit ću mišiće na prstima*

premda mi je najbolja * a šta ćeš kad su Amerikanci zavladali svijetom. Mi smo mala država i jedno nas spašava Nikola Tesla, sportaši i razvedena obola….*

hvala bogu ima još glupača na ovom svijetu.
Za ponedjeljak to jest sutra moram spremit govor za sedmicu i tako navečer sam se bacila na posao .

Ponedjeljak

Moj govor bio je spreman ušla sam u salu i stala za stol svi su me pozorno slušali a ja sam počela.

Svi slabi ljudi su dobri ljudi jer nisu dovoljno snažni da bi bili zli ali upravo to će se sve promijeniti jer dok novi raj počinje vječni pakao dolazi svakom je čovjeku Dan ključ raja ali isti taj ključ otvara i kapije pakla.
Jer na ovom svijetu ne postoji ništa, jer pakao i raj su tu na zemlji ti sam odlučuješ a i ja sam vjerovala pričama da se boje boga ali kakav se taj bog pokazao krhki ubogi starčić koji se više ni ne sjeća imena svoga. netko mi je nekada pročitao ove stihove pa eto vama ih citiram

Naučila si me dušo kako oni koji pobjeđuju ostvaruju želje svoga srca nije bit niti u vježbi niti u vještini one pobjeđuju ali najvažnija je želja jer tko se usudi taj pobjeđuje.

Svoje sam izbiflala mislim da im se svidio ali sad moram u psihića.

Dolazi po mene x
Ulazim u auto i putem opet ista prića
Oćemo li nas dvoje opet pokušat?
-ne jer ja mislim da smo ovaj ples odavno već završili plesati
ali što se to s nama desilo zar nisi luda i dalje za menom?
-možda jesam luda još za tobom ali ne želim opet pokušavati.
kao to misliš?
_eto tako kad eliminiraš nevjerojatno što god ostalo koliko god nemoguće bilo sigurno je riješenje.
Ma šta ti govoriš zato i ideš psihiću kad te niko ne razumi
-da upravo tako niko me ne razumi niti ja koga želim razumiti.

Svi znamo kako je sa X završilo!
Ne zbog razlike u godinama ,ne zbog toga što mi je bio sve več zbog toga što se život razvlačio iz dana u dan !
Niti jednu priču nisam napisala trijezna pa neču ni ovu ! Kao da imam pametnijeg posla!
Svaka je bazirana na mom životu ,stvarna ali pomalo toliko zakomplicirana da je fixna iluzija nestvarnih događaja!
Prošle su 4 godine od 1 djela ,sve je ostalo nedorečeno pa če i ovao također! Maštu na volju!¨

Sve se polako mjenjalo ,a možda se ništa nije promjenilo !
Četiri godine su me spremali za razlićite zadatke .
Odlučila sam otići iz svog zlatnog kaveza ,ostaviti svoju slavnu sedmorku, promjeniti grad ali uvjek mi je u krvi ostala jedna jedina želja !
Želja za kriminalom, oružjem ,terorizmom!
To je jedina stvar koja mi u životu ide !
Uz njihovu naklonost upisala sam željeni fax u drugom gradu ! Mislila sam SLOBODNA SAM!


Krivo sam mislila!
I dalje uz sve to imala sam pratnju ,obuku ali sada i hrpu za učiti!
Obuka se uvjek provodi subotom i nedjeljom ,mojim slobodnim danima!
Prezimi zimu na sljemenu u vojnom odjelu ,vreči za spavanje i šatoru!
Tokom noći provjera svako uru vremena u slučaju smrzavanja da se eliminira !
Jer i sami znamo kako snjeg utječe , samo ti se počne spavati , tjelesna temperatura se snizi i samo poplaviš!
Svako malo novi trening u novom gradu!

Moj otac je očito imao tako fix ideje da me dan danas zaboli glava!
Svežite je naopačke na granu od stabla ali ruke joj moraju taknit pod i to do lakta .Neka trenira , svoju težinu neka nauči dizati ,hodati na rukama!

Objesili bi konop na 6 metara pa se penji do vrha , da mala pomoć nogama al kad dođeš do vrha spuštanje je bilo efikasno naopačke ! To mi je dan danas najdraža vježba!
Dobila sam na poklon laserski pištolj ali mi jebe ciljanje , na daljinu nikako jer mi se ruke tresu !
Na blizinu bez problema!
Ipak se ja držim svojih igračkica !
Več smo utvrdili činjenicu da mi nije suđeno da umrem na brzinu ,da me skupi autobus,auto,tramvaj ,da me pogodi metak!
Možda je zapisano negdje u nekom djelu sudbine ali znam da ču umrijeti od raka!
Đavolu bi dušu prodala da sam kao Dorijan Gray da slika stari mjesto mene !
S svojim unutarnjim demonima lako bi se borila ionak sam dobro dresirana!
Ali ovako pomirit cu se s tim da je Constantinu đava produžio život izvadivši mu rak s pluča a meni neče!
Tko bi želio živit vječno?
Da bilo bi ljepo ,ali bi se i toga zasitila!
Što ste dobili za Božić ,to vas vjerojatno svi pitaju?
Dobila sam nogu u dupe dok su me izbacivali iz aviona jer se bojim visine !
Adrenalin je na +100 .Skok s padobranom nije neka velika stvar samo sam čekala da poljubim zemlju!
Sljedeči Božić netražim ništa!
Stiže mi poruka !
-Dali ste vi gospodarica?
ono wtf???
odg. - Ne dragi ja sam šefica podzemja! ha ha ha

Prokleto dobro te znam ljubavi mala ,neigram ja na kladionicu pa da gubim malo po malo , samnom ti je ruski rulet sve ili ništa !
Odustala sam od ljubavi jer je ljubav odustala od mene ! Jebe se meni za visoko društvo kad imam učinit ono što mi narede!
Od previše svega mi je zlo!
Bezbroj puta sam htjela odustati ,vratiti se na početak ali ne, glavu gore život je ljep a budale su na svakom kantunu samo ih na vrijeme primjeti!

Zašto se ljudi spuštaju? Od toliko ljudi sam čula pored tebe se osječam malom ,sitnom, minijaturnom!
Nisam ja bog i batina ali ako se tako osječaš imaš problem s samopoštovanjem !




Sjedim u učionici s hrpom brojeva , sve što se nalazi u učionici na raspolaganju ti je , nalaze se popunjene klupe i stolice .Sami štreberi oko mene , izgledaju kao informatički geniji , plava kosica, okrugle naočale , samo što još nos ne počmu kopati ! Dobro se uklapam iako sam cure , možda zato što imam kratku kosu ?
Možda sam samo frik .Što ako sam ista kao i oni ? A da zanemarim za promjenu činjenicu tko su oni i što su oni , pa što ako su bolji i lošiji od mene ,što i ako sam najgora među njima! Ja sam tu u toj učionici i nema mi van! Na vratima su dva zaštitara u slučaju da poželimo van! Pred pločom zelene boje neki starčić piskara kredom .
1 N 4 8 9 4 0 M S D 3 5 6 8 2 7 6 1 9 3 8 4 7 5 6 2 9 N E 2 9 8 4
R 5 M 6 H 3 I 9 K 0 2 3 6 S Z I S 5 8 0 4 2 4 F N 6 9 2 8 3 1 0 6 D
4 H 5 F 6 H U 7 S 6 6 7 H J I 4 3 3 0 N 5 7 2 4 0 7 5 3 1 4 0 K I S
R 6 9 0 L Č S D 5 7 9 2 3 5 7 1 6 2 7 E 8 0 4 S 5 6 S A R B T 4 3 0
0 3 4 0 5 6 S 3 9 M E 4 6 C 5 7 1 K I 6 8 4 7 D 6 7 9 S 4 9 0 A 5 6

Završio je pisati tu hrpu brojeva i slova .
Gospodo ovo je vaš zadatak , ukoliko pokušate izači i ne dadete točan odgovor biti će te eliminirani.
Krasno još te dovuku ovamo bez razloga a na kraju te eliminiraju!Ništa uvatimo se posla , nas je 20 netko mora doći do rješenja !Autizam je bolest poredavanja , poredaj stvari kao što su klupe poredane .165 je znamenki i slova ukupno , 33x5. U prvom redu je 3 dvice.6 slova ,najviše se ponavlja 4 .Ovo je sranje.
OVO JE SRANJE
Ustanem se na noge . ZAŠTO SAM JA UOPĆE TU? Zato jer si prošla psiho test prije tri godine. I KAKVE VEZE IMA TAJ TEST KAD NISAM PROŠLA OSTALO! Gospođice izvolite razmotriti zadatak , što vam prvo padne u oko to napišite i možete ići! A NEĆE TE ME UBITI? Ma ne to je bila šala!
Zakon !
Gledam ovo sranje na ploći i prođe mi kroz glavu rečenica , sve što se nalazi u učionici možete koristit ali nesmijete ustajati dok ne riješite zadatak!
Uvjek sam brijala na loto zgoditak ali ovo nije loto! Ovo je loto za mozak .Pored ploče nalazi se zemljopisna karta hr . Jebo te zemljopis opčenito ! Eliminiraj sve nepotrebene i beskorisne sastojke, 20 ljudi , 165 napisanih stvari .Gledaj !
4 i 5 red od 15
4330N1627E kad se sastavi to izgleda 43*30“N,16*27“E gografska dužina i širina Splita!
Ja sam gotova i boli me đon ako nije to to, nedami se više buljit , nema smisla !
Predam papir i izađem van .
Na izlazu me dočeka crni kombi i momci u odjelu , gospođice pođite s nama. IMAM LI IZBORA? Pa nisi Lara pa da imaš izbor! Hajde glavu dolje i sjedaj!
Krasno .
U autu neki lik pedesetih godina u ruci drži moj dosje i čita.
Zanimlji podatke imamo o tebi ,možda čak i malo previše . BITNO DA JE I SUVIŠE!
Zašto misliš da je suviše? Jeste pročitali da imam hemoroide?
Ne nemaš ih ,ali imaš je***u sposobnost kamuflaže i prikrivanja istine!
Drugim ričima laganje ,da i znam lagat da mi se zjenice ne šire ,da ne skrečem pogled, da se ne češem po nosu ,glavi ,da preciziram rukama kao da sam u ekstazi!
Vidim dobro su te naučili?
Naučili? Nije mene nitko učio !
Mala to ti ne pali kod mene jer znam sve o tebi!
A jeli? Kako?
2008 si otišla na obuku ? Da i?
Nisi se vračala?
Ne a ti si?
Boobi Long
Đizs oli te ja nisam ubila?
Nisi , pa čak ni tvoja sedmica nije uspjela! A ti si nestala ! Ali i dalje vidim da imaš mozak!
Sedmica , se davno raspala.
Nikad se nije raspala ,samo si ti otišla . Nisi mogla podnjeti pritisak da si ubila nekoga od krvi i mesa, pa si otišla jer se mozak cijelo vrijeme poigrava s tobom.
Nije istina! Ti nisi stvaran!
Djete nemožeš meni glumit šizofreniju i autizam ne pušim ja te fore ,izvlačila si se jako dugo na sve svoje bolesti ,možda malo predugo ,vrijeme je da se dovedeš u red ,vrijeme je da preuzmeš svoju odgovornost u ime oca svog !
Ne spominji njega!
Ja sam mu bio desna ruka !
Nisi ti si samo propalica .
Ono je samo bio zadatak malena ,moj dosje je lažan i neformalan ,i sedmica oduvjek radi za mene ali i dalje ti si na čelu jer je to ostavština tvoga oca. Sad je vrijeme za svu tvoju odgovornost i lojalnost! Odgovori mi na pitanje , kako si razbila kod na ploči?
Neznam samo je bilo napisano i poklopilo se , na karti se na tim brojevima nalazi Split .Nešto što sam naučila kao mala ,znaš i sam njega nikad nije bilo a ja bi uzela kartu i čitala brojeve gradova . Ostane ti svašta u glavi, uvjek sam mislila da takve stvari ničem ne služe al evo , večinu pogodim ili jednostavno znam . Odakle ni meni nije jasno!Tko sad za koga radi? Ti za mene ili ja za tebe? Ha Bobi?
Ako se dokažeš za mjesec dana ja radim za tebe! Do tada ti za mene si glava sedmice !
Uvjek bila i ostala!
Tako je!

Šta si naučila ove 3 godine?
Da nisam Lara i da nemam izbor! Hahahaha i da krv nije voda , a fax je samo još jedna santa barbara!
Osim toga?
Ne mješati san i javu, sastaviti bombu, ubiti čovjeka rukom pritiskom na krvne žile vrata, U slučaju srčanog udara staviti Aspirin neka se rastopi u ustima, Smithovu teoriju 1 sa 5 i dobrobit društva, 1
1 računanje rizika,sve o stresu, vojnu psihologiju ,rušenje mostova ,pomicanje tektonskif ploča , raspoznavanje oblaka , sve o sastojcima zraka,izrada kemijskog,nuklearnog i biološkog oružja,operacijski mozak i djelovanje,zaštita podataka,logistiku,topografiju i GIS proračune, usavršiti komunikaciju i pravit se retardiran, ...
Izvoli uđi spremna si !
Ulazim na velika vrata svoje dvorane za sastanke , udahnem duboko jer znam da me čeka hrpa pitanja!
Bok dečki jesam vam nedostajala? Žao mi je nemamo vrememena za ispitivanje , drago mi je da vas opet vidim i čast mi je ponovo okupiti našu sedmicu! Ovoga puta nisam pripremila nikakav vjerski govor ni ništa slično jer sam kidnapirana i nisam svojevoljno ovdje! Ali neke stvari se jednostavno neče promjeniti ,ni kod mene , ni kod vas! Sve projekte želim na papiru , razjašnjene i odjašnjene od početka do kraja sve ukupno. Naučite raditi kao tim , jer samo takav projekt če mo izvršavati , ne želim svakog posebno da iznosi svoje stajalište i mišljenje vas je 6 a sedan dana je u tjednu . Ralizacija i izvedbeni postupak če trajati jedan dan , zato prihvatite se posla i udružite svoje mozgove! Ovaj sastanak je gotov , ima li pitanja?
Zar ti ne patiš od Šizofrenije?
- Da jesam al ignoriram u društvenom životu pričati sa Bi D
A od autizma?
- Ljudi s autizmom bolje funkcioniraju jer u glavi postoji broj i red a oko sebe ne vidim nikakve svjetleče stvari da bi mi omelo pozornost
Jel ih još vidiš?
-da i dalje ih vidim ,ali ih ignoriram jer znam da nikad neće otići
Zašto si utekla ?
-zbog pritiska
Jesi li spremna za ubijanje?
-rođena spremna ,zar je krv voda?
Hahahaha nasmiju se svi jednoglasno pša čak i Bobi...
Jesili sprevna izgubiti sve do sad stečeno i živjeti s nama? (upita Bobi)
-Zar imam izbora
Dobar odgovor mala , vidim dosta si toga naučila , tvoja je soba još uvjek gore kakvom si je i ostavila ! Idi se odmori!
-Zahvaljujem idem!
Penjem se stubama drvenim na drugi kat svog prelipog dvorčića ,sve je isto kako je i bilo ,ulazim u sobu i na krevetu sjede Dimitrij i Bojana .
Ne možeš nas zauvjek ignorirat!
Ne obračam pažnju jer znam da nisu stvarni da su samo plod mašte , jebeni mrtvaci koji nemaju pametnije gopla nego zajebavati mene. Znam da me nesmiju iznervirati jer ču opet početi s njima komunicirati , a to se nesmije desiti, otkucaj srca uz dobro disanje treba srediti!
A moja kolekcija noževa je na istom mjestu kao i inače , uzmem svog leptira i rastvorim ga lijevom rukom, skucam ga ravno u centar !
Ah još tako dobro leži u ruci , još znam baratat .Predobro!
Gledam svoj zid , cijeli je ispisan mislima i citatima, uzimam kemijsku i zapišem ono što je Aleksandrić nekda rekao:kakva šteta što će ovi divni ljudi umrijeti ,. ali opet mi nije jasno čemu toliki pesimizam? Potom zapišem ono što znam od Čehova :i vi i ja volimo obične ljude, ali ja stvarno ne volim ljude! Sjednem na krevet i mislim možda i ovo nije loša opcija ,dali stvarno mogu ubiti nekoga bez grižne savjesti ? Očito mogu ,ako sam ubila Bobija ili sam samo tako mislila da jesam ? Ma i nisam radi njega pobjegla, trebala mi je samo sloboda ,a ne nadzor od 24 sata jer sam to što jesam! I opet se vračam na taj nadzor .Ima li Smithova teorija smisla , ipak ima kad eliminiraš nevjerojatno ostaje istina ali i to je rizik koji je valjan . Znači na 1 se ne ide sa 4 več na 4 se ide jedan po jedan a 1 se ignorira , jer nema druge prilike ! A sa 4 po 1 je veča šansa za cijelo društvo . Nas je 7 ja sam onaj broj 1 i 6 ih meni odgovara na tu temu ne primjenjuje se nikakva teorija . Sutra je novi dan !
Odem na spavanje i sanjam retardirani san :
Dok prolazim mračnom ulicom čujem taktove peta nečijih cipela !okrečem se nema nikoga ,krenem dalje ,pokušavam ubiti svoj strah pjevanjem i dalje mrak!Ulica uz more ,magla se spustila . Vidim kameni pod ispod sebe ali i dalje čujem taktove cipela.Pogledam svoje tenisice i primjetim stakleni pod ispod svojih nogu . Male ruke s druge strane stakla lupaju ! Sto dječijih ruka lupa o staklo pojavljuju se glave ,gledajući me...izgledaju kao da pjevaju ali mršti pogledi otjeraju me!Okrečem se i na zidu ugledam "Oni ne pjevaju ,oni žele izaći"ispod toga stoji oglas " stih po stih, takt po takt "Krenem desno u prvi stan ,otvaram vrata u prostoriji ,stolovi ,stolice sve u baroknom stilu .Sjedam za klavir tu sam da sviram!oko mene stvore se ljudi , mršavi, ljepo obućeni,bljedunjavi... Sjedu pored otvorenih prozora , zavje se se pomiću!

Svi nazdravljaju uz tonove neobićne sinfonije !Svi plešu kako ja sviram ! Prilazim stolu do prozora ,veliki luster nad mojom glavom! Sve oći u mene bulje , približavaju mi se ,povlačim se 2 koraka unazad u ruci razbivam čašu od straha ! Sto ruka prema meni hrle ,hvataju me za rame ,glavu,ruku. Vrišteći iskaćem kroz prozor ,dok padam u glavi mi samo jedna misao:You deal the cards,but I am the one who s playing!

Novi je dan i novi zadatak , moj zadatak je cony blake moja idealno loša

Vozim se kroz noć, magla se spustila ,oći su mi krvavo crvene ne od alkohola ,ne od semafora!Iznad mene puni mjesec kroz oblake se vidi!Parkiram motor kod benzinske postaje ! Ulazim da kupim svoju večernju dozu!Prolazim kroz rasklopna vrata u svojim čizmama,skidam kacigu i raskopčavam jaknu!" Dobra večer izvolite""A što je dobro u ovom oblaku nemira ,daj tu bocu prvu!""Hvala i doviđenja""Doviđenja"

Otvaram bocu ,naginjem je i osjećam žar u svom grlu.Još imuna nisam postala! Stavljam nazad kacigu ,zakopčavam se i sjedam na motor!Dalje u novi grad ,gdje me nitko ne poznaje ,gdje mi nitko ne zna ni adresu ni broj!Do jutra stižem u grad već ranom zorom uzimam stan! Mali ,idealni!

Raspakiram svoje stvari ,ali sve što ima su dva pištolja,par opasača ,dva noža i mač s drškom kobrine glave.Legnem da se odmorim!Popedne stvoreno za šoping! Ustajem u 4 ,oblačim se ,na noge vežem opasaće za noževe , na leđa opasać za pištolje!

Ulazim u dućan i kupujem sve što mi treba, kad stvori se ona!Idealno loša, kao najslabija karika !I rečem samoj sebi " čekaj živote"Prolazim dalje s svojom košarom trpajući stvari koje mi uopšte nisu potrebne samo da ne primjeti da ju promatram!Na radiju taman pjesma:" stani tugo ,sačekaj!Da bar kafu popijem!hladnom vodom umijem,oči otvorim, od sinoć se odmorim!"

"Idealno loša " dali je to nekakav znak?Dok ja razmišljam svojim tupim pogledom sudarimo se!Potom me pogleda u oči i nasmije se!Nastavim dalje u drugom pravcu od nje.Prilazim kasi i vadim sve iz košare,a ona iza mene!"Bok ,oprosti za maloprije""ma nema veze""Dal si za kavu posli?""da može jednom""Hej kako ti je ime? I gdje i kada?""Ako nam je sudeno ,naci ces me ,a ime mi je Faith"-Ciao

"Ali kako?"

Toliko od mene ,dok je postavljela pitanje vec sam prosla kroz vrata i odmahnula rukom!parTri dana je proslo ,potom netko zazvoni na vrata!parOtvaram, postar donosi pismo!"Ima nesto u tvom pogledu kao da gledas kroz mene a ne u mene! Ne znam sto se desilo!Zao mi je !Nije fora sto si otisla prebrzo!Bez odgovora! Ali nadm se da ces prihvatiti poziv za kavu! Cekam te u petak u 16.00h u Starsa"Cony Blake


Pa dobro Cony ,dobro je znati ti ime!Sutradan ustajem s osmjehom na licu , petak je!Spremam krevet i pojacam radio!Pjema je : Danas sam luda !Skacem po krevetu skidajuci svoju kosulju plavu za spavanje i oblacim maicu!Pokusavam obuci i hlace skacuci po krevetu ali ne ubrzo se nadem na podu!Upalim televizor i odgledam film!15 do 4 je!Oblacim se na brzinu svjesna da moram pozuriti!Sjedam na motor i krecem!

Nemogu naci taj glupi kafic! Proslo je pola sata od dogovorenog! Sve dok nisam stala i raspitala se nisam nasla!

Ulazim u nutra.Nema nikog!Sjedam za sank i kazem Toci!Zakasnila sam!Popijem dva dupla konjaka ,sjednem nazad na motor i pali doma!Splaslo mi raspolozenje!Danima sam se pitala tko je Cony Blake?Okrecala se u krevetu razmisljajuci !Ustajem na noge,palim svjetlo, uzimam imenik i listam!Uzimam zivot u svoje ruke ,dosta se sudbina igrala mojim zivotom!Postoji da , Cony Blake!

Napisem ja nazad pismo adresirano na tu adresu!"i Zao mi je ,zakasnila sam trazeci kafic,nakraju i kad sam ga pronasla tebe nije bilo!Jebemu dosljak sam u ovom gradu, ne poznajem ga dovoljno dobro.parDefinitivno zelim se ispricati zbog neugodnosti stoga te ocekujem u srijedu u 18 u restoranu Chuck!Iskreno se nadam da ces prihvatiti poziv! " Faith Bennett

Uz samo pismo posaljem i buket cvjeca !

Ocekujem srijedu kao novu godinu!I dosla je srijeda, sjednem u restoran i narucim aperitiv ,ipak sam uranila ovog puta!Cekajuci 18 h postajem nervozna , pogled upucem prema vratima!

U salu ulazi netko uz pratnju konobara i sjeda za moj stol!Ali to nije ona!I odmah se opalim smijat jer po crtama lica ,gospoda koja sjedi meni nasuprot je njena majka !I odmah pricam ja o sebi i o tom kako ja ocekujem ,njezinu kcer, i sto se sve desilo ,kako se sudbina poigrala ovog puta!I tako ja pricam i pricam od nervoze i zaustavi mene zena rukom i vadi papir i kemijsku!Napise mi "Ja sam gluha"

A joj zivote ! Zemljo otvori se ! Ne znam dal bi pakala il bi se smijala!

Dok smo uzivale u veceri i pisajuci po papirima, skuzila sam da ona i kcer imaju isto prezime i ime i da je sve doslo do zabune ,kcer zivi na drugom katu kuce trenutno jer se takoder tek doselila !Ali nema veze i dalje smo uzivale!Rastale smo se nakon 3 sata!Majka je nakraju ispricala sve svojoj kceri ,sto se desilo !A Cony junior je umirala od smjeha !Potom je odlucila napisati mi pismo!

"Nadam se da ne izlaziš s mojom majkom!Ha ha ha eto ti tvoja sudbina !Što je sljedeće munje i gromovi?Dobro bi ti pristajala moja majka ! Ali ona i dalje čeka ,nekakvog finog gospodina ,da ju obori s nogu !Nadam se da ti nije bilo neugodno i da ste se i s tvoje strane dobro zabavile i nasmijale jer s njezine definitivno jeste!Baš mi je drago što si sve to doživjela samo zato što nisi htjela odmahna kavu!""Cony Blake"

Ovog puta pažljivo oslovim pismo na Cony JUNIOR!

"Mislim da ti je mama jako zanimljiva osoba! Mislila sam i dalje izlazit s njom al kad čeka finog gospodina ja u tu skupinu ne spadam!Zato mi jednostavno ostaje "Idealno Loša "kopija nje!Moglo bi se desiti da me grom pogodi ipak mislim da bi manje bolilo nego da se opet s tobom sudarim!Vjerojatno če ovo pismo odnjeti nekakva oluja, a možda se i izgubi bez traga i stigne nakon par godina ,ali ako se i to dogodi znaj da još sam uvjek na istoj adresi! "Faith Bennett

Pismo je ipak stiglo u prave ruke!Pročitavši ga s osmjehom na licu !Odlučila je baš kao i ja da ode u onu istu trgovinu nesretnog događaja !

Bez ikakvog dogovora tražeći po policama nebitne stvari tražila je mene očima!Na samom mjestu sudara naišla je na poruku moju.

"Treća stalaža desno, popni se stubama na kat "

Učinita je to !Našle smo se na katu gdje sam unajmila prostor za većeru s cijelim osobljem!Nije me mogla ovoga puta odbiti!Skinila je svoj kaputić i sjela za stol!

Skinila sam jaknu i odnjela da objesim na vješalicu !

Dok sam se okrenila vidjela sam ju kako mahnito skuplja svoj kaput i bježi !Nije mi bilo jasno?
Ostala sam u šoku!Možda se prepala pištolja ,ma nisam ja ubojica!Otišla sam kuči razmišljajući ,tko je Cony Blake?Kako sam dobila premještaj iz postaje sutra mi je prvi radni dan!Cijelu noć nisam mogla zaspati !

Jutro je već svanulo i dalje neznam u čem sam falila!Ulazim u postaju i načelnik policije me upoznaje s kolegama!" Dragi kolege , stigla nam je nova kolegica na specijalnom zadatku .Upoznajte se s Faith Bennett i uljepšajte joj dan"

Svi su jako pristupačni i srdačni!I dalje neznam koji je moj zadatak!

"Faith u ured"

oglasilo se moje ime na zvučniku!Ulazim u ured i dobijem svoj zadatak!

"Ovo je tvoj zadatak"mali čelavi čovjek s druge strane stola u uniformi urla na mene!Držeći dlan raširen na kartonu s zadatkom!

"Prije nego dobiješ zadatak radi se o osobi ,iznad svih očekivanja , svoj identitet mjenja kao čarape ! Zato oči širom otvorene! Ova osoba je največi manipulator u svijetu novca, oružja, čak je i pod sumnjom za teroristički napad! S razlogom si nam poslana u postaju ,jer neželimo da se sve proširi ,a želimo najboljeg čovjeka za to ! A Faith to si ti! Zapamti klinac oči širom otvorene!"

Uzme datoteku i da mi ju u ruke!

" A sad u ured i prouči"

Zatvorim vrata njegovog ureda i prošetam do svog. Sjednem za stol i otvaram datoteku!

Nevjerujem svojim očima ! To je Cony!Čitajuči dalje njezin podeblji dosje moglo se svašta nači!Sami niz čudnih karakteristika .Zatim sam došla do stručne psiho analize!Niti malo bajno!Ako je to Cony Blake što me nije sredila ? Imala je priliku!Što je pobjegla?

Vjerojatno je vidila pištolje i zaključila sve!Tko je Cony Blake?Za mene samo slučaj nerješen!

Skupljam se i odlazim na njenu staru adresu!Dolazim do kuče i ugledam njezinu majku!Sporazumimo se i dobijem svoj odgovor !Cony je otišla ,nije navela razlog!

Te noći sjedila sam za stolom i razmišljala o njoj!Dok je plamen svječe tinjao, u mojim očima ona je bila savršena od ,idealno loše kombinacije!Taj prvi pogled značio je nešto ,nemožeš tek tako nestati!Možda jesi stručnjak za prepušavanje ali taj osmjeh nikad neću zaboraviti!Cijelu noć sam budna ostala i proučavala sve o njoj!

Sutradan zvoni poštar!Pismo!

"Tko si ti ? Sad znam ! To si izostavila ! Obični drot !Znam da misliš " što me nisi pitata", nisam razmišljala o tome! Sad isto onako kako ti znaš o meni tako i ja znam sve o tebi! Zašto se nisi zakopala ispod tone papira kako je tvoj otac to željeo?Što si morala priječi taj nivo!Možda je ovo ipak bolje ! Jer ionako se sve sazna kad tad al ovo je očito najbolje vrijeme!Želim ti ugodan život !"Cony Blake

Da sad znamo sve jedna o drugoj ali i dalje si moja lovina! Marka na pismu pečatirana je u obližnjem gradu!Spremila sam se i sjela na motor !Stigla sam u taj grad! Uzimam sobu u hotelu !Idem prošetati gradom!Ulazim u mali zabačeni kafić i sjedam za šank !Ista rečenica kao i uvjek!"Toći"

Pored mene izlazi iz wc-a osoba sa šiltericom na glavi i trenerkom!Sjeda do mene gdje je več stajalo piće!Pogledamo se u oći!Instantno uhvatimo se za pištolje i shvati ona da je na javnom mjestu!Uz polu smješak ,odlučim ne vaditi , ništa!

"Cony ruke na šank!""ti prva"u isto vrijeme uhvatimo čašu i nagnemo do kraja!Zadere se ona"konobar još jednu na toći"

Smješkajući se jedna drugoj ,nismo znale što reći !Samo smo se gledale, nitko nije ni obračao pažnju na konobara!Popijemo drugu turu istovremeno!"konobar toči"I odlučim početi pričat!

"hvala na zadnjem pismu!""Znala sam da češ zaključiti gdje sam !""onda prabo ime ti je?""Cony, Cony Blake""drago mi je !""Mogla si reći da si policajka!""i ti si mogla spomeniti da si kriminalka!"

Nasmijemo se istovremeno"konobar još jednu"

Kako smo pričale runde su samo padale! oči nismo skidale jedna s druge!Mislim da je čekala isto što i ja ! Da se onesvjesti od doze alkohola!Več sam podosta i popila!Dobro još i pričam ako se ovo moje fufljanje u alkoholičnom stanju može nazvati pričanjem!"Dobro Cony pa otkud si baš ti zapela za mene?""ima neš u tebi " i obje prasnemo u smjeh!"Pa kaj je to tak smješno?""Pa ti kad razmišljaš ,podigneš ljevu obrvu!!"

Uzme me za glavu s obje ruke i prstima mi podiže obrvu! Zatim me pogleda u oči i iz blagog osmjeha lice joj se uozbilji!Naglo me poljubi ,zatim se skupi s stolice i otrči van!Nisam ni znala Što me snašlo!Sječam se samo odsjaja u njenim očima i mekih usana!Okrenem se konobaru i zaderem "toči"Popijem još jednu i u hotel četvoronoške!

Sljedeče juto budim se u teškom mamurluku, ustajem iz kreveta i odlazim u svojoj plavoj košulji za spavanje prvom susjedu s ljeva da mi da Coldrex

Onak polu gola ,držeči se za glavu i bulječi u pod kucam na vrata!Sve što vidim su ženske noge!

"gospođo ,oprostite kaj vas budim imate li Coldrex?"

"O znam kako ti je!"
Kad sam začula glas opet sam ju ugledala!Shit "Faith ne stoj na vratima s tim blesavim pogledom, ulazi unutra ! Doručak!"I ovako sam već u govnima!Pripremajući kavu pokusala se ispričati za sinoć!"Oprosti nisam znala! Ja jesam ,ti očito nisi!"

"woow stani malo! Za sto se ispričavaš? Za poljubac!"

"da za to, očito nije u tvom stilu!"

"znaci i to ima nekakav stil ,haha ha ha ne brini nisi prva!"

"prva koja te poljubila ili prva koja je pomislila da je fejt strejt!"

"Nisi prva ni u jednom ni u drugom!"

"Pa dobro sto si onda?"

"priđi da ti sapnem!"

Sjedim u fotelji i dolazi ona do mene , naginje uho na moja usta u tom trenutku uhvatim ju za bokove i posjednem na sebe!Potom ju poljubim!

"Dali je to dovoljno, trebaš odgovor?"

"I vise nego dovoljno ,ali to rusi moju teoriju o tebi!"

"Cony ti si moju teoriju o sebi davno srušila! Nigde u tvom dosjeu ne piše ništa o tvom ljubavnom životu!"


"da znam ,nisam ni imala nešto posebno da bi bilo zamijećeno i zapisano!"

Izležavajući se s njom po sobi, pričajući o razno raznim glupostima satima! zazvonio mi je mobitel

"halo""Faith imali novosti?""nema sefe""Ajmo pakiraj kofere nazad vamo!""uredu"

Šuteći sam ustala iz njenog naručja i pokupila se nazad!Drugi dijele karte a ja sam ta koja igra! Svi smo mi nekakve šahovske figure za ovakav ili onakav način upravljanja!Bilo je savršeno dok je trajalo, ionako nisam ju mogla privesti!Ubrzo nakon mog odlaska sve se promijenilo!Nekoliko tjedana poslije stiglo je nama svima dobro znano pismo!

"Možda jesam manipulatorica ,možda sam sve do sada radila iz nekakve koristi.Dali da čekam da nazoveš,ili da se pojaviš!

Ne volim nestajati ,ali okolnosti su takve ,kad razmišljam o svemu ovom nikad me nije ni bio!Pokušavala sam doći do tebe ali ne mogu! Previše ljudi u javnosti je oko tebe!Nije da me nije briga!S tobom dva dana provedena,najbolja su dva dana koja pamtim!Držim distancu jer znam da nije pogodno niti profesionalno sto se tebe tiče!Srest ćemo se još!“ Cony Blake


„Postoje dani kad te mrzim ,mrzim zbog tvoje prošlosti!Ti si sve što nisam očekivala !Znam kako to ide kod nas , srest će mo se na kraju dana i izigravat lud luđeg!Kao i obično mrzim kad nestaješ ali mrzim i sebe jer se odričem knjige s pravilima po kojoj je moj život savršen!A zbog čega?Zbog tebe!Potukla si moju teoriju o „idealno lošoj Cony Blake“Ostala je samo savršena ! „

Faith Bennett

I pošaljem na staru adresu ,znam da će se pojaviti kad-tad!

Sljedeći dan već stiže novo ! ( Dopizdila su mi ova pisma )

„Faith daleko sam ja od savršenog!Prije neg što se ponovo sretnemo ,trebam na pedikuru,manikuru,frizeru!!!!(Pozdrav T. hahahha , jebiga super je rečenica!)Ali doći će i taj ponedjeljak !Baci tu knjigu pravila kroz prozor!Znam da ne mogu od tebe tražiti velike promjene! „Cony Blake


Nisam htjela ništa odgovarat!Dani su prolazili kao godine .I dalje nisam prestajala razmišljat tko je zapravo Cony Blake i zašto imam ovakav osjećaj kad ne bi smjela!

Dva dana nakon svega , sjedim na poslu i razmišljam uto se aktivira alarm!Pljačka banke , moje područje!Krenem prva do mjesta aktivacije !Ulazim u banku do prvog trezora i ugledam osobu cijelu u crno maskiranu!„ Ruke u zrak i okreni se!“

Drži ruke na đepu i okreče se polako !Kreče prema meni sporim korakom. Vidim samo te smeđe oči!Psihička strategija crne boje je takva da u svakom trenutku osoba koja je gleda ima osjećaj straha , gledajući tu crnu masku na licu ne osjećam se lagodno ,pomalo čak i nervozno!Kako se osoba približavala upucam ju u koljeno!Svejedno ni to je nije zaustavilo , skinula je masku s lica ,približila se i poljubila me .Uto je uslijedio i drugi pucanj!

Po nju su došli njezini i odveli ju prije nego je moja specijalna postrojba uspjela ući!Ostala sam zatečena gledajući ,tako brzu osposobljenost ,organiziranog kriminala !Reakcija je sve što se očekuje od tebe ,ali nisam reagirala!Sleđena nisam ni mogla progovoriti!Izlazim iz prostorije ,čak nisam ni svjesna boli!Moja postrojba je tu!U šoku od svega oko mene se stvori hitna služba!

„faith ranjena si!“

Molim?Faith ranjena si!Ne upucala sam ju!

Faith ranjena si ! I dalje mi je netko govorio, pritiskajući mi rame!Refleksno sam osjetila pritisak i bol potom se onesvijestila!Očito je bilo milo za drago!Ja tebe nesvjesno ti mene svjesno!
Sutradan se budim hospitalizirana !Imam rame u zavoju !Drogirana morfijem da neosjetim bol i dalje samo razmišljam o njoj!Što se dogodilo?zbog čega je došlo do toga?Eliminiraj nevjerojatno ostaje ti istina!Koliko podataka je u funkciji? Zašto nemožemo vratiti sve ,ma cijeli život unazad ne samo scenu!Zašto je toliko gluposti u mojoj glavi !Previše se toga izdogađalo! Previše je toga izrečeno !
Gdje je ta granica ludila?nisam mogla procjeniti granicu stvarnosti od zanosa!Da zaljubila sam se prvi put , na prvi pogled u taj osmjeh , slatki glas i male oći!Što sam ju više poznavala tako je moje raspoloženje padalo!Prvi dan je sve lipo bilo odglumljeno a več posli nije bilo potrebe za tim!Neznam lagati! Zašto da se zanosim lažima svojim koja su isprazna razmišljanja!Možda će ti laži učiniti život ljepšim i zanimljivijim ali moj život je banalna stvarnost i bez toga!Nemam srca to napraviti , jedino što moraš je pitati i dobit ćeš odgovor!Realistični scenari možda je idealan ali na taj scenari ona će smisliti još gori!ja na njezin još gori i tako u nedogled!Nabijat če mo svoje ideale jedna drugoj ali i dalje me interesira gdje je i kako je!Da nisam policajka vjerojatno bi bila country pjevačica skladala stihove o svom bolesnom životu kroz sve epizode!kroz smjeh i tragediju smislilo bi se nešto tragična komedija !Dosad sam nju realizirala i tražila sve ono najgore a na kraju vidiš samo ono najbolje !Ona je sebe izdresirala, da je naučila je igrati na sigurno da nikad više nebude povrijeđena!A gdje ju je to dovelo?Na nulu!Ništa nemožeš znati dok ne probaš!Nikad u nikog nečeš biti siguran , ljubav je velika stvar ali povjerenje je još veča!Ne živim u mašti ali i dalje volim tu maštu pretvarat u stvarnost!Najgori scenari u mojoj glavi je upravo ovaj, da ovaj napisani!Worst case scenari da upucala sam ju !I kaj onda?Umrla je!bu hu nema je više !To mi je posao ! Upalit svjetlo potom ga ugasiti!gledajuči tu iluziju i stvarnost nisam si smjela to dopustiti!Što ste očekivali?Novo pismo?Veliku ljubav?Ljepu priču bez nadrkavanja?Ma ja sam sama sebi idealno loša osoba!Sa svim manama i nedostacima ,retardiranim reakcijama i dalje se pitam tko je Cony Blake?

Pogledam ranu na svom ramenu i odmah se sjetim nje!Ožiljci su tu da bi me podsjetili da je prošlost bila stvarna!Ponekad ju sanjam u najboljem svjetlu! Ponekad mislim da je samo bila plod moje mašte!I da me sad pitate TKO JE ZA MENE CONY BLAKE rekla bi vam al ne bih vam mogla opisati !Rekla bi : o idealno loše osobe , upoznala sam dio savršenstva!U mojim očima vjerojatno osoba mog života!Od prve kad me izbacila iz takta ,kad me zbunila kao niko do sada !5 dan provedenih s njom nebih mjenjala nizašto u životu!Kad sretneš nekog takvog jednostavno znaš da je onaj dio tebe koji ti nedostaje, koji je falio da popuni cijelu slagalicu !Nemoj razbiti nikada tu slagalicu ,svaka mal greška skupo če te koštati a nikad ju nečeš moći nadomjestiti!

Zašto svaka priča ima tužan kraj?Zato jer ljudi odustanu ,nakon nekog vremena, boriti se za taj sretan završetak!I kad se desi taj sretan završetak , za mene je samo dio neispričane priće do kraja!

zadatak je bio obavljen sada se potrebno vratiti u normalu , svom kompliciranom životu u sedmici .
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
Pridružen/a: 21 svi 2012 21:56
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: ne želim se identificirati
Status: U braku
Lokacija: Racisce

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 15 stu 2012 20:35

12 . je Bogova , a nedati bog da sretneš ovog Aresa!
26 VELJAČA 2011


Znaš li tko sam ja?
Znam ! Zeus!

Našla sam se u nekakvom hramu , punom kipova, zlata, drahulja!
Sjedi da ti ispričam nešto , ejjjj ne na taj tron!
Zašto ne na taj? (tron je bio cijeli od zlata i baš mi se svidjeo!)

Hefast je napravio taj tron ! Svatko ko sjedne na tron bude okovan!
Kao što vidiš brača su se podjelila !
Hadu je išlo podzemlje , Posejdonu more a meni nebo !
Znači ja sam bog bogova, upravljam svime !
Imao je puno žena prva je bila Metida a zadnja Hera! Premda mu je bila sestra!
Od Metide nastala je Atena ! S Dionom je imao Afroditu , s Letom Apolona i Artemidu ! Nakon svih razonoda, propalih ljubavi s smrtnicima, oženio je svoju sestru Heru!
Ej znaš li zasšto nastju potresu i tsunamiji?
Da statistički !
O ne neznaš , Posejdon se sexa sa ženom tada hahahhahahah!

Da imali smo 4 djece ...ljubavnice su se redale i redale, a onda su i svađe počele!
Jednoga dana objesio sam svoju ženu za gležanj , da visi s Olimpa ,nisam ju mogao slušati!

Uto ulazi Hera s šalicom čaja u ruci !
Stari opet si previše popija ! Neodgovara tebi ova nadmorska visina , odi u podzemlje zove te brat na pečenje!
Sad će tebi teta da isprića!
Zeus se skupi i ode ! Hera je sjela na njegovo mjesto !

Da istina je rodila sam 4 sina , začela sam ih sama , bez pomoći muškarca! Udarajući u zemlju iz mržnje i ogorčenja i jedući salatu!
Hefast je napravio to prestolje da mi se osveti ! Malo me zajebo al su starješine to riješile!
A bio je ružan ko beba, sječam se prvi put kad sam ga ugledala , umrla sam od straha pa mi je ispao iz ruku !
Zeus je takav ženskaroš ! znam ja sve njegove avanture , samo se smuca okolo!
Skriva tu djecu samo kad ih ja uhvatim! opet je postala ogorčena!
Naljutio me kad je rekao da žene uživaju u sexu više od muškaraca! Pa smo se okladili i otišli pitat Tiresija! ,Koji je potvrdio da žene uživaju 9 puta više nego muškarci!
Bila sam ljuta pa sam ga osljepila!

Stara ne zanima nju te vaše sexualne priće! Pojavi se Ares!
Pođi samnom idemo do Amazonki!
One su mi potom ispričale kako ni birale muškarce jednom godišnje , uzele bi sjeme i to je to !
Ako bi rodile muško djete ubile bi ga ! Da bi postala Amazonka moram imati samo jednu sisu , drugu mi moraju otkinuti jer bi me ograničavala u bacanju koplja i gađanju lukom i strijelom !
Pobjegla sam od njih ipak volim svoje sise, kakve god bile!
Svratila sam malo u podzemlje! A dole tri brata se sastala na pečenju!
Had gospodar podzemlja ,ljepo me ugostio !
Objašnjavajući ,s ljeve strane vidiš peću se ubojice, s desne preljubnici, ovo u sredini su pedofili, a iza tebe silovatelji!
A što će ti kaciga?
Pa ona me čini nevidljivim!
Ovo ti je moja žena Kora šefica podzemlja!
Malo je pukla od svih ovih demona i mrtvaca!

Nekako sam uspjela izači iz tog podzemlja van! Šetala sam šumom i čujem poznati glas !
Salto jedan, dva, tri i ispred mene stvori se Xena!
Mala koji kurac to sanjaš probudi se!!!!

Da ponavljam gradivo petog razreda latinskog , mozak se poigrava samnom!
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

Avatar
Afrodita
Postovi: 4523
Pridružen/a: 23 srp 2011 11:44
Spol/rod: žensko
Ja sam: lezbijka
Status: U vezi
Lokacija: Karlovac

Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 15 stu 2012 22:32

povratak kući nakon 16 godina....misterija, humor, ljubav i avantura

~ The Tropic of Hunter ~
by Cheyne

I decided on a new place called The Night Shift. I found out later that it had been there for eight years so it was only new to me. It was spacious with a dark interior and a well set up bar, mostly illuminated by white Christmas lights that bordered the walls where they met the ceiling. As it was just barely past nine o'clock, I was sure the house lights had been dimmed to create a more romantic atmosphere. If it wasn't for the two huge plasma televisions on opposite ends of the room, both showing different news networks with the audio muted and the blaring jukebox music and the knocking together of pool balls, it might have succeeded. Not that it mattered to me; I was only there for the booze.

The bartender had just served me my second Guinness when I heard someone call out, "Hunter? Hunter Roberge, is that you?" I was under the impression I had changed in looks over the past sixteen years but obviously not as much as I thought. I turned toward the female voice and was greeted by the stunned eyes of my high school best friend, Lesley Riordan. What were the odds?

I grinned rather jauntily and said, "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to walk into mine." I stood up to accept her inevitable embrace.

"God, Hunter, I'm so sorry about your mom," she said, while hugging me fiercely.

"Thanks." There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and then she removed her arms from around my shoulders, stepping back, assessing me.

"I was wondering if you were going to come back for her services. Last time I saw Dane and asked about you, he said you and your mom still weren't speaking."

She looked good. She had grown a little taller, which still left her five inches shorter than I was and had maintained a trim figure except somewhere along the way she had acquired an enormous rack. Whether they were natural or silicone, I had no idea, but they were out of proportion with the rest of her body and made her clearly top heavy. Mine weren't small but they were nowhere near as big as hers and my back hurt from lugging these around, I couldn't imaging how her back was managing. If she still jogged, she must have had to wear the sports bra from hell. Other than that, she still looked like my best friend, only sixteen years older, with highlighted auburn hair and overly made up green eyes. Her once pleasant face now had a hardness to it that surprised me, though. I wondered if never leaving this town and dealing with its 'good ol' boy' suppression had done that to her. "We weren't but, for some reason, she left me the house, so I'm back here to deal with that."

"That's the only reason? God, Hunter, that's kind of cold."

I shrugged, not offended by her assumption. It was true. "You know, as well as anyone, that my mother and I never got along, never had a traditional relationship. To pretend it was anything else just because she's dead now would be dishonest and something I won't do."

She seemed to consider this, looking at the floor. "True." She then focused back on me, grinning. "Well, the years have certainly been good to you."

"The years? Jesus, Les, you make me sound ancient. I'm only thirty-four, as are you," I unnecessarily reminded her.

"Well, you look great. Have you seen your brothers yet?"

I sat back down on my stool and she stood next to me. "I just came from Sam's. I had to deal with Dane. That's why I'm here." I held up my beer for emphasis.

"Dane's not such a bad guy. For a politician."

I gestured the empty stool next to me. "Join me?"

"Oh, no, I can't. I'm waiting on a party," she turned and pointed to two long tables pushed together in a corner with four champagne bottles sticking out of ice buckets, two on each table. "I got here early to set up. Hey...why don't you join us?"

The last thing I actually wanted was to be sociable to a group of strangers. Or a group of old acquaintances. "Who are 'us'?" I felt it was only polite to find out before I refused.

"It's Lisa's thirtieth birthday, so it will be her and my parents and -"

"Wait. Your kid sister is thirty? Scrawny, bratty, tag along Lisa?"

She laughed. "Well, yeah. She is four years younger than us, hello."

Okay. Now I did feel ancient. Little Lisa. Thirty.

"Hey, here they are now."

A group of about ten people walked in and I recognized her parents immediately. A little chunkier, a little more gray but Mr. and Mrs. Riordan, nonetheless. As Lesley waved to them and pointed to their tables, she grabbed my sleeve and pulled. "Come on, Hunter, I know they'd love to see you. It'll be like old times."

"Yeah, old times. Your mom blamed me every old time we got into trouble even though you," I poked my finger into her stomach, "were the mastermind. What happens if you get drunk tonight? She going to forbid you to see me for two weeks?"

Laughing, she grabbed my finger. "Yeah, she thought you were pretty, um...adventurous..."

"When I left here, she thought I was fast and loose, thanks to Phil Khaury's big mouth even though I..." I looked at her pointedly, "...was probably the only senior who didn't get laid on prom night."

Eyes twinkling, Lesley said, "Your loss." She let go of my finger. "Listen, no worries. I 'fessed up to her ten years ago that it wasn't you, it was me who stole daddy's bottle of vodka that time. You just supplied the oranges. She figured out the rest on her own. She's forgiven you. And she still asks occasionally if I ever hear from you. But," she added with some sadness, "I told her I guess when you gave up on your mom, you gave up on the rest of us, too."

I took a long drink of beer. "It wasn't like that, Les. It had nothing to do with any of you and had everything to do with me."

"What does that mean?" She questioned, thoughtfully.

Hmmm. Was this the time? The place? Was I finally going to come out to my childhood best friend, someone I'd been away from as many years as I'd known her? Sure. Why not? I'd kept the secret from this shit hole town long enough. I didn't live here, I no longer had to be concerned with my or my mother's reputation and my brothers could fend for themselves. Sam would cope just fine and I could only hope it would ruin Dane's political aspirations. And, who knows? Maybe no one would even care. Maybe they had already guessed. Maybe no one would be surprised.

Okay. Deep breath. "Well, what it means is that I'm -"

"Lesley, come on! We want to make the toast!" A young man interrupted us, holding a flute of champagne.

"Okay, I'll be right there," she told him then turned back to me. "Come on, Hunter, please...at least come over and say hi even if you don't stay," she whined and pouted and bounced on her heels like a little kid, breasts jiggling threateningly at me.

I moved back slightly, not wanting to risk being beaned by my former best friend's boobs. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, all right." I picked up my beer mug and stood up again. "But if your mother starts counting how many beers I've had, I'm coming back over here."

"She won't." Grabbing my sleeve again, she pulled me through the crowd over to the table where mostly everyone was seated, each holding a full glass of champagne. "Hey, everybody, look who I found over at the bar..."

As I looked around the group, of course the people I had never met were puzzled but the few I recognized, including Lesley's parents, also looked confused. I did a quick scan, trying to figure out which one was Lisa. I had pretty much decided it was the mousy little redhead at the end of the first table, looking a tad irritable that the big celebration was being interrupted.

"Oh, come on, isn't it obvious?" Lesley laughed, gesturing my height, "it's -"

"Hunter Roberge," a voice beside me breathed.

I turned to see who had recognized me. Now...usually in the movies, when a moment like this happened, the film would go all slow motion to underscore the magic of the occasion. And that's exactly how this felt like it happened. I looked down into one of the most naturally beautiful faces I could ever remember seeing, which said a lot, considering, in Los Angeles, pretty faces were a dime a dozen. She had thick, light blonde hair that fell to just below her shoulders, a captivating white smile revealed behind understated red lips, a perfect nose and mesmerizing, sparkling green eyes that were holding me hostage as they attempted to convey a message I was too dazzled to read. There was something about her eyes that did look vaguely familiar but I couldn't place her. Who was this? And how did she know me?

As I was about to ask, Mr. and Mrs. Riordan were on their feet, offering me their hugs and condolences. When the formalities of that were behind us, before I found out who the engaging little temptress was who also expressed her sympathy, I figured I'd better say happy birthday to the woman whose party I was probably ruining by unintentionally becoming the focus. I grabbed Lesley's arm before she could move away from me. "Is that Lisa over there?" I subtly pointed to the timid albeit obviously perturbed, bespectacled redhead.

"Oh, heavens, no, that's Dina, Lisa's secretary."

"Lisa has a secretary? What does she do?"

"Jesus, Hunter, you can ask her directly, she's standing right behind you," Lesley folded her arms, amused.

No. It couldn't be. I spun quickly to see that gorgeous enchantress smirking at me, her arms also folded. "Lisa?!"

"Hunter," she acknowledged. Just the way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine. I am sure I looked dumbfounded. She laughed. "What? You still thought I'd look the same at thirty as I did at fourteen?"

I guess I did. Thankfully, I had guessed wrong. Well, at least now I knew why she looked vaguely familiar. She stepped toward me and pulled me into an embrace I enjoyed entirely too much. It was a full body hug, usually the kind only lesbians knew how to give but Lisa had always been an affectionate girl so I was probably reading something into nothing through wishful thinking. "Happy Birthday," I told her, as I reluctantly released her.

"Thank you," she responded, in a tone that sounded almost intimate. She stepped back. "Please join my party, Hunter. I would love to have you celebrate my thirtieth birthday with us."

She didn't have to ask twice. Even if she wasn't gay, she certainly wouldn't be too hard on the eyes for the next couple of hours and preferable to going to my mother's house and facing those memories. I grabbed a chair from a nearby empty table, wedging it between Lisa's harassed-looking secretary and Lesley, who poured me a flute of champagne.

"Can we get this toast over with, so I can have my martini?" Dina finally called out. Well, at least now I knew why she had looked so impatiently peeved.

I had been introduced around the table and in-between trying to be courteous to any conversation thrown my way, I couldn't stop staring at Lisa. She had become a stunning woman, very poised and polished and every time she engaged me with those intense green eyes, she, quite frankly, left me breathless. Her transformation from immature little girl to sophisticated adult, from gawky adolescent to absolute knockout had been amazing. The thing I remembered about her most was that she was always following Lesley and me around, wanting to be included in whatever we did. I wouldn't object to her following me around anywhere now. I had alerted on the fact that there was no husband or boyfriend mentioned and she was not wearing an engagement or wedding ring. I was encouraged, even though I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment. But I couldn't help it. I was incredibly drawn to the former little girl who once, in an adorable cowboy costume, told me she would rope the moon for me if I wanted it. She was eight. I suddenly wished she still had that hero worship. So far, I had learned that Lisa was an environmental lawyer, which I found most impressive. If she had to be a lawyer at all, at least she was working for a noble cause. It was an obvious profession for her as she always loved to argue. Well, at least with Lesley. I had learned that she graduated at the top of her class from the Vermont Law School's Environmental Law Center, where she would occasionally give lectures, that she owned her own house, was the proud 'mommy' of two rescued greyhounds, enjoyed gardening...but still no mention of a significant other. I also learned that Lesley was on her second husband who was home with her twin boys from her first marriage. She said she was glad she'd had boys because she would never have wanted two girls the same age who were as exasperating as we had been. That was a terrifying thought. Lesley worked temporary jobs eight months out of the year and then really raked in the bucks waiting tables at one of the major lodge's bar and restaurant during ski season. If I remembered correctly, the hotels didn't pay shit but the tips were exceptional. One of my older cousins put herself through business school on the money she made from waitressing on the mountain.

The conversation came back to my mother again. Mrs. Riordan, who then made a remark about my having had four beers already, not including the ones I'd had before they got there, and she guessed I'd never kicked that little habit, asked me outright if my mother and I had spoken to each other before she'd passed away and just what exactly was the problem, anyway. I turned to Lesley with a raised eyebrow. She's forgiven me, eh? It was then I heard Lisa say in a mildly reprimanding voice, "Mother. That's between Hunter and Mrs. Roberge. It's none of our business."

She put a patronizing hand on Lisa's arm and then said in a condescending tone, "I just thought Hunter might like to tell us, dear. I mean Sarah is gone now, what difference could it possibly make?"

Ah, yes. It was all coming back to me now. Mary Lynne Riordan. Town Crier. If someone farted on the opposite side of Otter Falls from her, Mrs. Riordan was on the phone to her sister about it before all the air had been expelled. I should have thanked them for inviting me to join the party, excused myself and returned to the bar but I glanced back at Lisa, who was looking at me with an expression of patient understanding and against my better judgment, despite the fact that I was melting under her gaze, I chose to stay.

"Mrs. Riordan," I began, forcing restraint, "I was not the one who stopped speaking. That was my mother's decision. And, because, it was something that would invade her privacy for me to discuss...even now...I am going to respect her memory and leave it where it belongs." Then I added, sweetly, "I am sure you would expect nothing less from your daughters." Well. That got a warranted redness to rise in the cheeks of Mrs. Riordan, an embarrassed clearing of the throat from Mr. Riordan and a smile that made it all okay from Lisa.

"So, Hunter," Lesley began, breaking the spell, "what is it that you do out there in California?"

"I am a chief ranger in the Angeles National Forest." There was a round of the expected 'ooohs' and I glanced quickly at Lisa to see a look of quiet approval in her eyes as she rested her chin on her folded hands. I was hoping she was still as fascinated with me as I now was with her.

"Wow. You're the chief ranger -" Lesley started.

"No," I corrected, "I am a chief ranger, not the chief ranger. A chief ranger is a supervisor position."

"What is it you do as a chief ranger?" It was Lesley again.

"You know, this is Lisa's party." I leaned over to Lesley, "we can get together and talk about me any time while I'm here. You only turn thirty once." I returned my attention to the guest of honor, who seemed to be studying me with something akin to amusement. "So, back to you."

And, as if Mrs. Riordan had not even heard me, she said, "Are you married, Hunter?"

Did I detect a hint of concentrated interest in that question from the direction of the party girl? "No, Mrs. Riordan, I'm not." I responded.

"Not now or not ever?"

"Not ever."

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" Mr. Riordan piped up. "What's wrong with all them men out there in the land of fruits and nuts? They all gay?"

"Dad!" That exclamation came from both Riordan daughters and made me laugh. My best friend's parents had not changed.

"What?" He shrugged, throwing his hands in the air, looking sincerely perplexed.

"No, Mr. Riordan. I guess I'm just not the marrying type." I wasn't about to get into my sexuality now. I could only imagine the reaction and I would be damned if I was going to ruin Lisa's special night. But since we were on the subject and it would bring the focus back to Lisa... "What about you, Lisa? Married? Engaged? Divorced? Separated? Boyfriend?" Girlfriend?

Among sudden dead silence in the room, Lisa leaned forward on her elbows and said, "Actually, I'm single."

I looked around the table and everyone seemed to find interest elsewhere until Lesley, in her best troublemaker tone said, "Are you going to tell her why you're still single?"

Lisa opened her mouth to say something and Mrs. Riordan cut her off, with a distinct chill in her voice. "Why don't we just leave it at Lisa isn't the marrying type, either."

The expression on Lisa's face was a mixture of annoyance, frustration and amusement, as she shook her head. Glancing back at me, she then cut Lesley a nasty look. "Actually, I'm -"

"Let's change the subject, shall we?" Mary Lynne Riordan's smile was fake and strained.

"You brought the subject up, Mom." Lisa reminded her.

Well, this was interesting. What big Riordan mystery had I stumbled upon? Had Lisa been with someone influential and the relationship was now over, which was somehow embarrassing to her mother? Had she been involved with someone her parents hadn't approved of? Surely, Lisa and I couldn't be sharing the same 'secret.' Could we? That was too much to hope for.

As a smidgen of tension wafted through the air, I took in my surroundings and decided to be the one to change the subject. "This is really a nice place. You all seem comfortable here, is this a regular family stop?" I looked around the table at each Riordan family member.

"Not a regular stop," Mrs. Riordan breathed out, sounding scandalized that I would think she hung out in a bar. "We have been here for occasions."

"Yeah," Lisa smirked, "the last occasion was the celebration of Lesley's boob job. In her honor, for dinner we had a five and a half pound breast..."

"Lisa!" Mrs. Riordan admonished, nearly snorting out her daiquiri. I almost expelled some beer through my nose, as well. Lesley's jaw dropped slightly but she recovered quickly, grinning like a proud fool. She then stood up pointed to her new additions like Vanna displaying consonants. The table broke into applause and Mrs. Riordan cringed as Lesley sat back down.

"Oh, Mom, please," Lisa laughed, rubbing her mother's shoulder, "If Vermont allowed billboards, Chesty here would have put her girls out there for the world to see. She's proud of those puppies."

"Well, she wasn't naturally blessed like you were, dear," Mrs. Riordan, mumbled, turning to her husband, her expression pleading for rescue.

Doug Riordan did not fulfill her wishes. "Well, hell, Mary Lynne, let her show off the damned things, Wally sure as hell paid enough for 'em. I certainly hope he's gettin' as much enjoyment out of 'em as she is."

"Douglas!!" Mrs. Riordan closed her eyes and hid behind her hand.

"Dad!!" Both his daughters chorused.

"What?!" he said, shrugging, throwing his hands in the air again.

Lisa excused herself to use the bathroom and I wanted to follow her, to ravish her up against the wall of one of the stalls. However, I remained seated and listened to Mr. Riordan drone on about some local sports competition and Mrs. Riordan looking grateful for any diversion.

When her parents were well occupied and lost in conversation with others at the table, Lesley leaned over and said in a hushed voice, "Still know how to stir up trouble, I see."

I kept my attention on my nearly empty beer mug. "I do? How's that?"

"Asking if Lisa's married. That's a sore subject with us all and we all try to avoid it. Even though she has no problem telling anybody, which only makes it worse."

"And why is that?" Oh please, oh please...

Lesley's vocal inflection had moved from being disdainful to downright contemptible. "My dear, sweet, baby sister isn't married because the little perv is a dyke."

As my inner giddy schoolgirl did a happy dance and screamed, YES!! and then fell to her knees, pumping her fist in the air, I couldn't ignore the disgusted way my once best friend had presented the situation to me. Her use of the words 'perv' and 'dyke' were emphasized with a particular revulsion that set my teeth on edge. "Is that so?" I said, coolly.

As Lisa walked back to the table, Lesley moved even closer and whispered what she thought was a warning. "Be careful...she's always had a crush on you."

I turned and looked at Lesley, my intention being to match her repugnance for opposite reasons but not wanting to cause a scene. "I'll keep that in mind."

However, I think it backfired when she sat back and said, "Yeah, I have no doubt you can kick her ass if she gets out of line."

I finished my beer and stood up. I wanted to get as far away from Lesley as possible. "Well," I announced, "it's been a long day and the next few days will, no doubt, be even longer. I should get going."

Lesley patted my leg and said, "Call me. Or why don't I just stop by?"

Before I could tell her, 'thanks but no thanks,' Lisa was by my side. "Thanks for joining us, Hunter. Seeing you again was a very nice birthday present." She hugged me again and I embraced her back, giving her an extra squeeze. If I were living here and would have been around to help take the flack it would have caused, I may have just bent her back in my arms and planted a juicy one on her, just to get a reaction. Okay, not just to get a reaction but that would have been a worthwhile residual.

Before I released her, I whispered in her ear, "Looks like you have your hands full with this bunch."

I felt her relax and then I heard her say in a voice only I could hear, "Right now I'm just concentrating on having my arms full." I know she must have felt my breath catch and my heart start beating faster.

When she stepped back, she winked at me and suddenly it felt like there was no one else in the room except the two of us. I don't know if anyone else noticed or felt the sparks flying between us and I really didn't care. I can't remember ever feeling such desire for anyone in my life. But before I really did take her in my arms and nail her with searing kiss that would have burned holes in her self-righteous family's eyes, I automatically nodded to everyone and began to back away, thanking the air for allowing me to join the festivities. As angry as I was at Lesley's blatant bias against her sister's orientation, I was able to put her out of my mind and concentrate on the fetching surprise that was once the little pest I couldn't wait to get away from. Now, all I could think about was how to find a way to be around her. I suppose I should have been more mindful of her being so young the last time I saw her, the huge gap between our ages back then and all the years that had passed in the meantime. It was difficult to reconcile the awkward, androgynous teenager who I barely considered a 'cute kid,' much less a blip on my gaydar screen with this 'woman-of-my-dreams' status she now was. It was as though I was dealing with two entirely different people and the fourteen-year-old I remembered was a lifetime away from the thirty-year-old who had just incarcerated any common sense I had left. Something that would have been wrong on so many levels sixteen years ago felt instantly and indisputably right and I knew I would have very little, if any, control over my libido if either Ms. Lisa Riordan or I tried to look each other up while I was here. As I was driving to my mother's, I thanked whatever entity guided me to that bar. At least this journey 'home' wouldn't be a total waste of my time.

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 24 stu 2012 10:09

sometimes I want to have her baby so much...I wish I am younger ...

~ A Place To Dance ~
by Ali Vali

"Honey, shouldn't you be cooking something if you invited them over?" Mimi yelled her question down the hall as she contemplated if she could get away with not wearing a bra.

"Everything's marinating and waiting for the grill so don't worry about it. Do you need any help?"

Struggling into underwear that looked like something her grandmother would have love, Mimi wondered again why Jolly hadn't moved out after watching her body expand to scary portions. "Could you…" Soft lips pressed to her shoulder as Jolly's hands came around as far as they could on her naked middle.

"You are so beautiful." The kisses moved further up Mimi's neck. "You get more beautiful everyday." A snort escaped the woman being complimented but it didn't discourage Jolly. "I'm sorry if I haven't been convincing before now, but you are." Slowly she moved Mimi to one of the comfortable chairs they'd gotten for the master suite.

"You're incredibly sweet, and incredibly prejudiced. I feel far from beautiful."

Jolly knelt in front of Mimi and kissed the surface of the warm haven that held her children. "For a long time I've enjoyed building things. Places where people enjoy the holidays and their families. Places where they make love and dream of starting a family, but it's never mattered how well I drew the plans or mitered the wood around the doors, what mattered was what those places became once I handed over the keys."

For the first time in months Mimi forgot all the discomfort and focused on Jolly's voice. "What did they become, love?"

"Homes. I can only provide a pleasing space, honey. The people who move in are what make it a home. I never truly had a place I felt that way about until I woke up next to you." Jolly kissed one of the pudgy hands resting on the arm of the chair before going on. "You're beautiful to me because you're giving me all the things I thought were out of my reach. You, beautiful, are my home and if you finish with the granny panties I have a surprise for you."

"You shit. You had me tearing up until the last part." Mimi threw the bra she'd picked out at Jolly's head as something occurred to her. "Would you hate me if I don't breast feed?"

A person could get whiplash having a conversation with my girl, thought Jolly. "I could never hate you, honey. Besides you've go plenty of time to decide, and since I don't come with a tap it'll be up to you to make that decision."

Tears welled up in the pretty green eyes, but unlike in the beginning, Jolly held Mimi's hand and waited. Their cause would come spilling out shortly if she gave her a chance. "It's just that putting on a bra is an exercise in pain. If someone, I don't care how small, bit down on my nipples it might drive me over the deep end."

It was hard not to smile, but Jolly had a mental image of getting strangled with the underwear on her head so her face stayed neutral. "I think after a few times those little suckers toughen up, sweetie. That's what it said in the book anyway. Either way, they'll be fine. I was bottle fed and I'm no a serial killer."

"Toughen up? What exactly does that mean?" A look of horror swept over Mimi's face.

"I'm thinking that's a Desi question when she gets here. Come on, don't you want to see your surprise before you have to share it with the world?"

"Help me?" Mimi plucked the beige instrument of torture off her partner's head.

"Surely, and later if you want I'll volunteer for sucking duty to get these babies ready."

Mimi looked own to what seemed like some other woman's breasts Jolly was cupping and laughed. "You're a person in need of help, Jolly, but I love you because you are."

Walking slowly and leaning heavily on Jolly, Mimi followed her to the babies' room. The walls were almost finished and after she got rid of the extra weight Mimi was planning on completing her first gift to their children, but that didn't matter now. What did were the three new additions not in the room when she'd walked by that afternoon. With the same attention to detail her grandfather had taken great pride in, Jolly had finished the baby beds. They were far apart enough to ensure the others could maybe sleep through a sibling's crying, but close enough so Mimi could appreciate what Jolly had accomplished. The multitude of characters flowed from one bed to the other making them all inter connected. Famous cartoon rivals chased each other from one foot board to the next, but evenly divided so no bed was more important than the other.

"Oh my God, baby, they look great." Mimi had seen them slowly come to life in Jolly's workshop, but they looked totally different with stain and varnish.

"Your dad helped me with the ten coats of finish he insisted on, so remember to thank him. Do you really like them? It's not too late to order something else. We've got at least two months."

The blonde turned in Jolly's arms and rested her hands on the strong chest. "I love them and so will our brood. You know what I spend my days thinking about besides my next trip to the bathroom?"

"What, love?"

"I picture three little brunettes with big blue eyes trailing after you with tiny hammers in their hands. I bet our yard has the only tree house in town with a functional elevator if I know you."

Jolly laughed as she led Mimi to one of the rockers in the room. "I don't think so. I told Desi and Harry this afternoon that they'd be little blondes. All of them with paint brushes and palettes telling some hyper dog to sit still. Their mother's a creative genius so I want them to be just like you." If there was going to be any rebuttal from Mimi it was cut off by the doorbell. "Sit and I'll be right back."

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 02 pro 2012 11:04

18.st. Engleska...opasni pljačkaš 'Blue-Eyed Nick' .....dva dijela ... Rebeccah and the Highwayman: A Meeting On Shooter's Hill, In the Shadow of Tyburn

Rebeccah and the Highwayman: A Meeting On Shooter's Hill
by Barbara Davies

Rebeccah peered out at the darkening sky and bit her lip. Instead of crossing Putney Heath while it was still light, in convoy with other concertgoers, they were alone and night was drawing in.

"It wasn't Robert's fault, Madam," repeated her maid. "Some urchins meddled with the traces."

"That's as may be, Mary, but they wouldn't have been able to meddle with the traces if he had stayed with the carriage instead of going off with you and Will."

Mary flushed and looked away, her manner stiff. "Beg pardon, Madam, I'm sure."

Rebeccah sighed. It wasn't the maid's fault, after all. "No, I beg yours, Mary. The truth is I would far rather have joined you three for a walk in the sunshine than been cooped up indoors, listening to that caterwauling. But please don't tell Mama I said so."

Mary's lips twitched. "I thought Mr Abel was meant to be much admired."

"In moderation his voice may well be bearable. And I'm sure my mother, had she not been in bed with a sick headache, would have enjoyed him immensely — she is always eager to hear the latest songs from the Continent. But my preferred idea of entertainment," continued Rebeccah, glad that Mary was no longer upset with her, "would have been a trip to the New Theatre. Congreve's plays are always amusing, especially when Mrs Barry and Mrs Bracegirdle are on top form."

The concert at Richmond Wells had been Mrs Dutton's idea. Anne was still visiting her friend in the country, so it had fallen to Rebeccah to keep her mother company. Five shillings each, the tickets had cost them, and at the last moment, a megrim had confined Mrs Dutton to her bed. Worse still, she had insisted her indisposition should not prevent her daughter from attending the concert (in spite of Rebeccah's increasingly broad hints that she would not mind in the least). So after the tedious drive, made longer by the carriage having to go via London Bridge, Rebeccah had found herself amongst an audience of inveterate fidgets, coughers, and sneezers, perched on a chair that grew harder by the minute, wishing herself outside listening to birdsong instead of to Mr Abel, who seemed overly pleased with himself and his high-voiced performance. When the concert ended at last, releasing her from purgatory, an eager Rebeccah sought the peace and quiet of her carriage, only to find that the horses had broken free of the traces and her redfaced maid, footman, and coachman were darting around trying to retrieve them, while the amused locals looked on. In the end, a couple of onlookers took pity on them and came to the servants' rescue. Soon the four horses were recaptured and yoked to the traces. The delay had cost Rebeccah's party dear, though, and the other concertgoers' conveyances had departed an hour ago. As the carriage swayed and rocked its way along the highway across Putney Heath, Rebeccah chewed her lip and wondered why the urchins had targeted her carriage. True, Robert had left it unattended, but Mary insisted that other coachmen had done the same. Was it just chance that had made the urchins release her horses, or had someone instructed them to do so? And had it been done out of a sense of mischief or to delay her? A thought struck her then, making her heart race and her cheeks heat so that she was glad the dimness of the interior hid them from Mary's gaze. Suppose Blue-Eyed Nick was trying to contrive another meeting. It had been a week since the kiss. Would he demand another one? And this time, would he insist it be on the lips? Distant shouts roused Rebeccah from her pleasant daydream. With a start she became aware that the coach's pace had increased to the point of recklessness. Then came a pistol shot, and the boom of a blunderbuss. The coach slowed, almost catapulting the maid into Rebeccah's lap.

They disentangled themselves. "It could be Blue-Eyed Nick," said Rebeccah, unsure whether she was trying to reassure Mary or herself.

But a moan from the footman's position at the rear of the coach turned her anticipation to dread, and she couldn't bring herself to peer out of the window for fear of what would meet her gaze.

The carriage door opened. "Well, well, what have we here?"

The man's bulk took up the width of the doorway. A mask hid the top part of his face, but the bottom half was bare. A badly healed scar at the corner of his mouth had left him with a permanent sneer.

He turned his head and called to someone out of sight, "Couple of birds ripe for the plucking, boys." Removing his tricorne to reveal a wig badly in need of refurbishment, he made a mock bow. "At your service, ladies." His laughter was cruel, and so was the glint in his steel-grey eyes, as he put on the hat and grabbed hold of the carriage door to help himself up.

The vehicle tilted under his weight as he stepped inside, lowering his head to avoid braining himself on the roof, bringing the stench of unwashed clothes, horseflesh, and fried onions with him. Both women shrank away until their backs were pressed against the far side of the carriage.

"Aw, don't be like that." The highwayman's grin revealed tobacco-stained teeth. "Just 'cause I ain't one of your fancy gents drenched in lavender water." He reached for Rebeccah's pearl necklace, and tugged, too hard. The string broke, scattering pearls everywhere. "Devil take it!" His grin became a scowl.

Another man, as small and skinny as his companion was bearlike, appeared in the doorway. Though masked, his sharp features reminded Rebeccah of a rat. "Only two?" said the newcomer with a frown. "How are we going to split 'em between three of us?"

"Jemmy'll have to make do with our leavings."

Rebeccah's signet ring glinted and the man with the scar reached out a meaty hand. "I'll take that pretty gewgaw." He winked. "And then I'll take you."

The threat galvanised Rebeccah out of the paralysis that had overtaken her. She kicked him between the legs, reached for the door handle, and tumbled out of the carriage to the hard ground.

"Ow!" She rubbed her stinging elbow and staggered to her feet.

A lanky highwayman (Jemmy, presumably) was using a willow switch to drive the unhitched team across to where three horses were cropping grass. He threw her a startled glance.

Rebeccah lifted her skirts, and ran, but had gone barely five steps when she heard, "Stop or I'll blow your friend's brains out." The bellow halted her in her tracks, and she turned, heart hammering.

The scarred man's sneer was more pronounced than ever. He had dragged Mary from the coach and now had the muzzle of a cocked pistol pressed to her temple. Every instinct was screaming at Rebeccah to keep running, but she couldn't leave her maid in such peril. Lifting her chin, she turned and walked back towards the carriage.

"Lookit that," laughed Ratface. "She's taken a shine to yer, Jack."

Rebeccah ignored the lewd exchange that followed, and walked as slowly as she dared, her eyes darting from side to side. A liveried figure lay motionless beside the highway. The coachman. Is Robert shamming? On the ground beside him lay his blunderbuss, but smoke curling from its muzzle revealing that she would have to look elsewhere for a weapon. Remembering the moaning, she sought out Will. The footman was sitting on the road by the rear of the carriage, both hands clutching a bloodied thigh. No help there. She came to a halt a yard from Jack. The maid's gaze was full of terror and Rebeccah shot her an encouraging glance, which was difficult considering her knees were knocking and her mouth so dry she had to clear her throat to get the words out.

"Let her go, Sir, I beg you."

The big highwayman cocked his head to one side. "Not so hoity-toity, now, eh?" He shoved Mary aside with such force she fell over, and reached for Rebeccah, spinning her round and squashing her so tightly against his barrel chest she could barely draw breath.

"You're going to regret kicking me in the stones." His breath was hot in her ear and the scratch of bristles made her want to vomit.

Ratface, meanwhile, had decided to grab Mary and received a slap from the struggling woman, provoking guffaws from his colleagues.

"I'll make you pay for that, baggage!" He forced the maid's hands down by her sides, and looked at Jack. "Can I take her now?"

Will tried to rise. "No! Take the horses and valuables, but let the women go."

Jemmy crossed to the footman and knocked him back down with a blow and a curt, "Shut up!"

"Please listen to him," urged Rebeccah. "If you release us unharmed, I'll give the constables a false description of you and say there were seven in your gang not three." But the arm around her tightened and she bit her lip against the pain.

"You shouldn't have kicked me," growled her captor, beginning to drag her backwards.

Oh God! His grip was unbreakable. She dug in her heels, but succeeded only in leaving drag masks. Then the scarfaced man let out an odd little huf and the arm imprisoning her went limp. Rebeccah gaped at it in incomprehension, then jerked herself free and turned round. The eyes behind Jack's mask were sightless, and he had acquired a hole in the centre of his forehead. He dropped heavily to one knee, then to both, then toppled forward, teeth crunching on the surface of the highway. Only then did Rebeccah register the drumming of hooves, which had been at the edge of her hearing for several minutes. She turned and blinked at the masked rider on a black horse thundering across the heath towards her, a smoking pistol in one gloved hand.

"Blue-Eyed Nick!" cried Mary, looking as startled as Rebeccah felt. He was 100-yards away and closing fast. She found it hard to breathe.

"Devil take 'im!" Ratface drew his pistol and cocked it. "This is our snaffle. Look lively, Jemmy." He took careful aim.

"Mary!"

Rebeccah's warning came too late for the maid to do anything. The crack of the pistol was deafening. Fearful, Rebeccah peered through the acrid blue smoke that surrounded them and saw the rider still coming, his progress unchecked. Thank the Lord! Jemmy was rummaging in one of the horses' saddlebags. He emerged with a blunderbuss and took aim.

"No!" Rebeccah hurtled towards him, grabbing his arm just as the weapon went off.

"Damn you!"

The lanky highwayman tried to club her with his blunderbuss. Her ears were still ringing and bright afterimages flecked her vision, but she managed to dodge the blow. He raised the blunderbuss again then came the crack of a pistol shot and he grunted. For a moment he remained frozen, arm raised, then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed. Rebeccah straightened cautiously. When the toe of her shoe in Jemmy's ribs didn't get a reaction, she stooped and rolled him over on his back. A dark stain was spreading from the hole drilled through his waistcoat. The hoofbeats were louder now, and she looked up just as Blue-Eyed Nick reined his lathered horse to a halt five yards away. The pale eyes behind the mask were as icy as she had ever seen them. He discarded the smoking pistol and drew his sword.

"Let her go." The order was aimed at Ratface who now had a knife to Mary's throat.

"Damned if I will! We worked hard to set up this lay, and no jumped-up wool-snaffler is going to snatch the proceeds."

Blue-Eyed Nick dug in his heels and urged his mare forward. His rapier glinted in the moonlight, and Ratface's eyes widened as he backed a few steps, dragging his squirming captive with him.

"No need to take it nasty. We can come to some arrangement, can't we?" Sweat beaded the little man's upper lip as the horse continued to advance. "Now don't be unreasonable. She's my bargaining chip." Mary's mew of terror made Rebeccah's stomach lurch. "How about a third. That's fair, ain't it?" He licked his lips. "Come now, a third is a sizeable snack."

As the rider continued his silent advance, Ratface stepped back ... and caught his heel in a tuft of grass. Blue-Eyed Nick struck, leaning so far out of his saddle Rebeccah was amazed he kept his seat. The rapier whisked the knife from the maid's throat, and she gasped, dropped to the ground, and curled herself up like a hedgehog. Ratface was still gaping down at Mary when the rapier skewered him through the eye. It was like some macabre tableaux, thought Rebeccah, unable to tear her gaze from the horrific sight. With a dull sucking sound, the blade withdrew, sprinkling her with something warm and wet, and Ratface crumpled to the ground. Jolted out of her fugue, and clamping down on her revulsion, she hurried over to join her sobbing maid.

"There, there." She wrapped her arms around the other woman. "It's all right, Mary. We are safe." She caught sight of her bloodspattered skirts and grimaced. "Though our dresses are somewhat spoiled."

She glanced up and saw Blue-Eyed Nick was wiping his blade on a kerchief. He caught her gaze, his eyes warming perceptibly.

"We are safe, aren't we?"

"Indeed."

She turned back to the woman in her arms, whose trembling seemed to be subsiding. "Did you hear that, Mary?"

"Thank the Lord!" murmured the maid, uncurling.

Rebeccah looked up at their saviour once more and paused. Was it her imagination or was the highwayman swaying in his saddle? "Good heavens!" She released Mary, stood up, and took a pace towards him. "Are you hurt?"

He sheathed his sword, drew off a glove and touched long fingers to his left shoulder. They came away coated with something dark and glistening. "I'll be hanged if that first shot didn't ... " He turned to regard her. "A mere pinprick, Madam. Please, do not concern yourself." But the swaying was becoming more pronounced and his eyes widened. "Pox take it, I think I —" With boneless grace he toppled from his saddle.

The black mare's ears flicked forward, and she nosed the man lying at her feet, then tugged the cuff of one sleeve with her teeth. When he didn't stir, she nickered soft and low and tugged the cuff again. Rebeccah bent to examine the fallen rider, but the mare startled her by squealing and butting her hand away with its nose.

"Hold, girl." She held out a hand, palm up. "I'm not going to harm him."

Nostrils flared as the horse scented her, and large brown eyes regarded her from close quarters. After a moment, to Rebeccah's relief, the mare nickered and backed a few paces. She bent and examined Blue-Eyed Nick's left shoulder. The coat, waistcoat, and shirt beneath it were soaked with blood.

"Is he dead?" asked Mary, who had recovered enough to join her mistress.

"A swoon." Rebeccah bit her lip. "So much blood!"

"We must pack the wound." The dumpy maid scanned their surroundings and pursed her lips. "I need moss."

Rebeccah gave her a doubtful look. "Out here, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Ay, Madam. In fact we couldn't have picked a better spot."

Mary's mother had been a Cunning Woman, and she had learned country lore at her knee. The Duttons had quickly learned to entrust their health to their maid's care before paying out good money to an apothecary or physician, whose treatments were often ineffective and sometimes fatal. But staunching Blue-Eyed Nick's wound was one thing, leaving him swooning and vulnerable on the Heath quite another.

"Help me get him into the carriage first." ordered Rebeccah, grabbing the unconscious highwayman under the arms. Mary hesitated then took his feet.

He was lighter than expected, but it still was hard work dragging him towards the carriage. The mare pawed the ground and followed them.

"May we assist you, Madam?"

The footman was limping towards them. Beside him staggered a dazed-looking coachman.

"Robert!" squealed Mary, setting her burden down. "You're alive."

The coachman grinned at her then winced and put a hand to the back of his head. "My head aches like Blazes. The whoreson clubbed me, Mary. " He glanced at Rebeccah, "Begging your pardon, Madam."

"Granted." Rebeccah frowned at the footman's bloody thigh. "Should you be walking on that, Will?"

"It looks worse than it is, Madam. The bleeding's stopped though it stings a fair bit." He jerked his head at the figure slumped at her feet. "He looks in a bad way, though. Never thought I'd be so glad to see him!"

"Indeed, I believe he saved all our lives. And now it's our turn to repay that debt," said Rebeccah. "I'm taking him back to St. James's Square."

"As you wish, Madam. Though won't Mrs Dutton object?"

"Only if she finds out." Rebeccah flushed under the servants' combined scrutiny. "She will be in bed with her megrim, so if we are careful, we should be able to carry him up to my room unobserved."

"Your room?" Mary looked shocked.

Rebeccah rolled her eyes. "He'll be too weak to make any attempt on my honour. Besides, where else can I put him so you may attend to his wound whenever you need to without raising suspicion?" She pre-empted Mary's next question. "By the time Anne has returned, he will either be dead or well enough to make good his departure." Pray God, it's the latter.

"Will you all give me your word not to betray his presence to anyone?" She held each of their gazes in turn.

The three exchanged glances, then shrugged, and chorused, "Yes, Madam."

"Thank you," Rebeccah's shoulders sagged with relief.

They manoeuvred the highwayman into the carriage. Then the two men went off to get the team of horses back into harness. Mary, meanwhile, grabbed a carriage lantern and went looking for some moss. Rebeccah gazed down at Blue-Eyed Nick, who was sprawled on his back on the seat, his knees drawn up so that his long legs would fit inside the carriage. A nicker from the doorway made her glance round.

"He's in good hands," she told the mare. "Be patient. Mary will be back soon with some moss." I'd better prepare him for her.

She stripped off the highwayman's mask and kerchief. He'll be more comfortable without them... And besides, I want to see him. It was a handsome face, she decided, reaching out a hand. Smooth to the touch too, not like that brute's bristly chin. Thoughts of what might have happened had this man not intervened made her heart race, and she took a few calming breaths before continuing. With difficulty, she eased Blue-Eyed Nick's coat over his shoulders, followed by his waistcoat, then started unbuttoning his shirt. Beneath it, wrapped tightly around his chest several times, was a long narrow strip of coarse white cotton, now soaked with blood. She frowned and wondered if it were protection against the cold, though on a warm August night it seemed unlikely. With a shrug, she began to unwind it. From outside came a jingle of harnesses and murmur of voices. The carriage jerked forward a yard then came to rest. Then it dipped as Mary climbed aboard, her arms full of moss.

"Found some."

The last of the cotton strip came free, and Rebeccah's startled intake of breath attracted Mary's attention.

"Bless me, now I've seen everything!" murmured the maid, peering round Rebeccah at the shapely breasts now revealed. After a moment she chuckled. "Well, well." She tried to ease past Rebeccah, who was frozen with shock. "Excuse me, Madam. But I'll need to get closer if I'm to treat her."

Her.

"I beg your pardon." A still disconcerted Rebeccah stood back so that Mary could examine the wound, tut that the shot had not passed cleanly through but was still lodged inside, and begin to pack it with moss.

The woman beneath Mary's capable fingers shifted and moaned, and Rebeccah winced and turned away, just in time to see Will's face in the doorway. Instinct made her block his view of the half-naked highwayman ... I mean highwaywoman. She cleared her throat and hoped she didn't look flushed.

"How are you progressing?"

"The horses are hitched and ready when you are, Madam."

"Good. There's something else I need you to do." She remembered his wound and bit her lip. "But only if you think you are well enough."

Will asked gamely, "What is it, Madam?"

"Drape the bodies of the dead highwaymen over their horses' saddles, and take them to Putney. ... I'm afraid you'll have to ride Blue-Eyed Nick's mount."

He looked askance at the black mare, who gave him a distrustful glance in return. "As you wish, Madam."

"Tell the Beadle we were attacked ... but make sure not to mention Blue-Eyed Nick." Rebeccah pursed her lips and thought. "You and Robert killed the rogues while defending our lives and our honour. Your wound will reinforce your claim."

The footman nodded.

"While you're there, ask for directions to a reputable apothecary. Get him to treat your thigh and send the bill to me."

Will smiled. "Thank you, Madam."

"Then return home to St James's Square. ... You can stable Nick's horse in the Mews with our coach horses. That's all, I think."

"Very good, Madam." Will limped off to gather the first of the bodies.

A groan from behind followed by Mary's protest made Rebeccah turn. The highwaywoman's eyes were open, and she had pushed herself up on one elbow and twisted to face Rebeccah. Her skin was ashen, and there was a glaze to the pale eyes that Rebeccah didn't like the look of.

"Lie still," ordered Mary. "Do you want to make the bleeding worse?"

"Your footman won't be able to ... Clover." The injured woman slumped back, her eyes closing.

Mary and Rebeccah exchanged a puzzled glance, then Rebeccah had a flash of intuition. She leaned forward. "Is Clover your horse?"

Eyelids cracked open then came a hoarse, "Yes."

"Are you saying my footman won't be able to ride her?"

"Unless ... whistle."

"Pardon?"

At the second attempt, the highwaywoman managed a whistle — two notes at an oddly discordant interval. Rebeccah mimicked it. From outside came a nicker, and the mare's nose poked inside the carriage. Rebeccah clapped her hands. The ghost of a smile curved the highwaywoman's lips then her eyelids fluttered closed, and a cross Mary pronounced her in a swoon once more.

"I beg your pardon, Mary," said a contrite Rebeccah. "But it was necessary if Will is to ride her horse."

Already, Will had got the highwaymen's bodies slung over their saddles, and tied the three mounts together so they could be led. She called him over and told him about the whistle, then demonstrated. The footman's dubious look changed to one of relief when, after using the whistle and calling her by name, he was able to mount Clover. As Will led the train of three horses and their macabre burdens off towards Putney, Rebeccah took a last look at her surroundings and decided she had done all she could. She shut the carriage door and banged her fist twice on the roof.

"Take us home, Robert," she called. "As quick as you can."

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 14 pro 2012 22:04

Što se može dogoditi kad se probudiš ujutro kraj nepoznate plavuše a bivša stoji kraj kreveta i traži objašnjenje

Courting Erin
by Ambrosia

Peaches. She was breathing in the scent of peaches. Sweet, succulent, intoxicating peaches. With a deep inhale she obtained another whiff. Peaches. These peaches were beginning to make her nauseous. In fact, the very idea of these fruits or food in general made her sick to her stomach. Ooh. Bad peaches. Since not breathing wasn't an option, she began to open her eyes with the intent of getting away from the scent. Instead of peaches she was greeted with disorderly blonde hair, which her nose was partially buried in. Ah, peach shampoo. Question. Who was this peach shampoo user and why was she in her bed? Erin's hands quickly discovered something upon their investigation underneath the covers. And why was the peach shampoo user naked? For that matter, why was she naked too?

"I would truly appreciate an explanation as to what in the hell is going on here," stated an irritated voice.

Her heart getting a jumpstart, Erin catapulted into a sitting position. Automatically pulling the sheet over her exposed chest, she looked at the woman seated in a chair a few feet away from the bed. If looks could kill, Erin would have been walking through the tunnel of light at that moment to meet up with relatives who had passed on before her. Because she didn't give an explanation, the fully clothed woman repeated her statement. Her voice louder now, she effectively roused the peach shampoo user. When she moved, Erin looked down at her while trying to ignore the sharp pain in her head.

Sleepy light green eyes met her gaze, swiveled toward the seated woman and then came back to her. As though waking next to a thoroughly confused person with an irate one a mere few steps away were something she did on a regular basis, the peach shampoo user smiled dazzlingly. "Good morning baby," she softly uttered in such an angelic voice. Despite her perplexed state, Erin wouldn't have terribly minded hearing that voice again.

She didn't get a chance to respond to the greeting since her girlfriend spoke again. "It's bad enough that you cheated on me, but to marry that trollop? Have you lost your mind Erin? I get to show up at my sister's wedding today alone because you did something so very idiotic. I'm going to be the laughingstock!"

"What? I didn't?" Trailing off, Erin slowly shook her aching head. She must have consumed an awful lot of alcohol last night. Having left the bachelorette party the moment it switched into a sleepover (an event she didn't care to participate in), she remembered going to a nightclub. That was why peach shampoo user looked so familiar. They met at the nightclub. Of course, Erin had no recollection of marrying her. They shared a couple of beers while chatting. How did they end up in her Bellagio hotel guest room?

"Yes you did!" Uncrossing her legs, Michelle stood and stormed over to the bed. Erin had two seconds to guess whether she intended to strike her before she laid a sheet of paper in her lap instead. "I think that belongs to you and Mrs. Tucker. I found it on the dresser--your marriage license," she angrily finished.

Picking up the license, Erin glanced over it. Courtney Calloway. Yes, she remembered now. That was peach shampoo user's real name.

"We've been talking for nearly half an hour and I don't know your name," Erin said after swallowing another mini pretzel.

"Courtney Calloway at your service little lady. You can call me Court though."

"Nice to meet you Court. I'm Erin Tucker." Lifting their beers, they clinked the bottles together, each smiling at the other. "Who're you calling little, hmm?" Erin teased, her eyes moving over the other woman's petite form. "I bet I'm almost half a foot taller than you."

Knowing how to take a joke, Court grinned. "True, but I'm older. Therefore, I outrank you."

"I wouldn't be bragging about that if I were you."

Laughing, the blonde drained her bottle. "Just for that comment you have to buy me another beer little lady."

"This is what's going to happen," Michelle started, her hands planted on her hips. "Before we prepare for the ceremony, I'm going to meet my sister for breakfast. When I return to this room you and your wife better be gone. I want you out of this room and out of my life forever. Oh, and this belongs to you. Though I don't know how useful it will be now." Reaching into the pockets of her jacket, Michelle pulled out bits of paper, tossing them toward Erin. They fell around her like small papery snowflakes.

Looking at various little pieces, the hung over brunette managed to find important words like 'boarding', 'San Francisco', '10:45 a.m.' and 'first class'. Her mouth dropping open, she disbelievingly gazed at her ex. "You tore my plane ticket apart? I'm the one who bought it. Why would you do that?" She hadn't even wanted to travel first class, but Michelle talked her into it. If she hadn't felt sick before, she sure did now.

"Because I could." Michelle coldly smiled. "You will pay for this Erin. No one betrays me. No one." Giving Court the dirtiest look she could muster, Michelle headed toward the door. Bolting from the bed, Erin called her name as she followed her. Forgetting that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, she walked into the hallway allowing the door to close. When that happened, it automatically locked and couldn't be opened unless one had a keycard.

"Michelle don't leave. Let me explain," Erin pleaded just as it occurred to her that the air felt a little too cool.

Stopping just before she turned the corner, Michelle looked at her while shaking her head. "I'm glad that I invited you to my sister's wedding. Otherwise, I might never have known just how stupid you are and how unworthy you are of me. You're naked dumbass." Rolling her eyes, she then disappeared from view. Feeling much like a dumbass, Erin hurried back to the door, jiggling the knob. Of course, it remained stubbornly locked. She was about to knock when she horrifyingly heard someone else's door opening. Glancing toward the left she spied a child around 6 or 7 skipping out of the hotel room followed by two adults she guessed to be his parents. Oh my God. No, no, no! Turning back to her door, she knocked, hoping that peach sham--Court would hurry up and open it. She didn't. Damn her. What was she doing?

Erin glanced over her shoulder. They were headed in her direction. If she could have one super power right now, she would choose invisibility. It was highly unlikely that they would pass by without noticing her nude 5'10" frame. Knocking once more, Erin slid down to the carpeted floor, wrapping her arms around bent legs and closed her eyes as though thinking if she couldn't see, then neither could they.

It didn't work. Damn it.

"Mommy look!" The kid excitedly stated, ratting her out. Opening her eyes, Erin helplessly watched as he pointed one little finger at her. "It's a naked lady! I found a naked lady!" He giggled.

Sighing, Erin pounded toward the bottom of the door. For some reason I'm having seconds thoughts about having children someday. Approaching, the boy's parents stared at Erin in shock. Using a hand to cover her son's innocent eyes, his mother told him to go back to their room. After he reluctantly obeyed, she refocused on Erin, not paying attention to the fact that her husband was practically ogling the 31 year old.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Pervert! I'm going to call security right now!" Grabbing her silent husband's hand, she marched toward her room to make good on the threat. Though Erin tried to explain why she was crouched in the hall naked, the wife and mother refused to listen. As her door shut, Erin's opened. Standing, she pushed past Court who was now dressed in the robe belonging to the hotel.

"What took you so long?" The brunette inquired, trying not to scream because it caused her head to hurt even worse.

"Sorry. I had to use the bathroom and while I was there I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I figured you could get back in."

"And just how would I go about doing that? With the key I keep in my pouch?"

Court appeared more amused than upset. "Said I was sorry. I take it she wouldn't listen to you?"

"No." She sighed again. "I have a million questions for you, but for now you need to remove that robe and put your own clothes on because we have to get out of here before security comes up to haul my ass in for indecent exposure."

"Michelle's going to get security?"

"No, the woman a few doors down is. Hustle Court. Please."

It took the pair less than five minutes to get dressed and for Erin to toss her clothes and toiletries into her suitcase. Putting her backpack on, Court followed the worried younger woman out the door. Cautiously checking the halls for people carrying nightsticks and walkie-talkies, Erin headed in the direction of the elevators. She was about to press the arrow facing downward when her wife suggested that they take the staircase. Agreeing, they traveled down six flights of stairs, which led them to the lobby.

"You don't have a car right?" Court asked as they headed out of the hotel/casino.

"No. We rented a car but Michelle has it. How did we get here?"

"My car. Follow me." Remembering the exact place she parked, Court led Erin to a shining crimson Toyota RAV4. Placing their belongings in the back, the women climbed into the car, settling into comfortable leather bucket seats. Reaching toward the glove compartment, Court pulled out a white prescription bottle. Extracting one pill from the bottle she put it back in the glove compartment and grabbed the half full bottled water from the cup holder. After removing the cap, she handed the water and pill to her passenger. "That's a Percocet to help relieve your headache. It's okay to drink the water." She grinned. "I don't have cooties."

"Thanks. What do you have such a strong medication for?" Swallowing the pill, Erin chased it down with two large gulps of room temperature water.

"Migraines. I recall you mentioning that you lived in San Francisco. You ready to go?"

"To San Francisco?" Court nodded. "You're prepared to take me all the way to SF?"

"Yes, I am. I have business there so it's perfect," she told what she deemed a small fib. "I have to be there by Monday, so I figure if we leave today Saturday, we'd have plenty of time."

Erin put the bottle back in the cup holder. "First things first. We need to get an annulment. I say we go to the County Clerk's office and take care of this."

"Annulments aren't easy to get. You need a very good reason and I don't see where we have one."

"We--or at least I was under the influence of alcohol. That should be grounds for an annulment." Pausing, Erin shook her head. "Why?how did we get married anyway? I have a girlfriend."

"I didn't know that until this morning." Though it probably wouldn't have made a difference. "And you had a girlfriend." At the other woman's immediate frown, Court apologized. "Basically, we had too much to drink. You more than I."

Sucking on a lime wedge, Court watched as her new friend drank her fifth shot of tequila. Knowing her limit, Court had stopped drinking alcoholic beverages after two beers and one tequila shot just to get Erin interested in doing them. She ached to be the coarse salt that the tall woman seductively licked from around the rim of the shot glasses. She wondered how that tongue tasted. She wondered how every single area of Erin's body tasted.

"You are so fine," Court stated, knowing exactly what she was saying. "Are you aware of just how incredibly attractive you are?"

Even in her current state, Erin blushed at the compliment. "Um, thanks Court." Her words sounded a bit slurred.

"I'm going to ask you three questions and you say yes to every one of 'em, okay?"

It took Erin's muddled brain a moment to come up with an answer. "I'll try."

"Okay." The blonde smiled. "Do you find me at all attractive?"

"Yes." She blushed again.

"Do you really or are you just saying yes because I asked you to?"

"I do. Really."

Court scooted close enough that their breaths mingled. "If I kissed you right now would you kiss me back?"

"Yes. Really."

That reply caused Court's lips to break into a broad grin. "Last question. Will you marry me?"

A long pause ensued as Erin stared at her with an unreadable expression. "Is that a?a?hypo?hypocrit?ick al?" She practically slaughtered the word.

Court's grin returned. "Are you trying to say hypothetical?" The brunette gave an exaggerated nod. "No, it isn't. I'm seriously proposing. Will you marry me tonight Erin? I want you to be my wife."

Reaching into the basket for one, Erin fingered a pretzel. Her eyes meeting Court's she smiled. Why not marry her? She was attractive and kissable. "Yes."

"That's how it happened?"

Court nodded. "That's how it happened. After you said yes we obtained a marriage license, found a chapel and swapped vows. For a little extra they were willing to record weddings, so I bought a videotape of our ceremony."

Erin appeared thoughtful. "It seems like you meant for us to get married. You weren't drunk."

Court decided to answer that honestly. "No, I wasn't drunk."

"And I was."

"You were."

"You took advantage of that?" Everything fell into place. It all made sense now. "You son of a bitch."

"Last I checked, I didn't have a penis so that would be daughter not son. And I realize that you meant that insult for me, but you inadvertently referred to my mother as a bitch, which she was not. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Please be mindful of what you say." Court's reply was remarkably polite for someone who had just been called an s.o.b.

Erin noticed that she used the past tense when speaking about her mother. "Did your mother pass away?"

Court nodded. "When I was twelve. I don't need an apology," she quickly added, instinctively knowing the other woman was about to give her one. "Her death shouldn't make me any less of a jerk in your eyes, so what were you about to say?" When Erin hesitated, she smiled. "Come on. I know you have a theory. Share."

I don't understand you at all. Erin suddenly had second thoughts regarding her theory on why Court wanted to marry her. True, she had just met Court Calloway, but labeling her as a gold digger seemed very wrong. "I take it that this has nothing to do with my assets?"

"Is that what you thought? I married you for your money?"

"I can't think of any other reason. It's not like you love me." Even as she said this she searched the blonde's face. Court's expression gave nothing away. "Here are the facts. You were sober when you asked me to marry you--that was intentional. And it seems that you don't want to annul it, so that begs the question of why. If not for love, another reason to marry someone is for financial purposes." The ringing of Erin's cell phone caused Court to temporarily withhold her reply.

Digging the phone out of her pants pocket, Erin brought it to her ear. "Hello? Oh, hello Mr. Braddock. Yes? Uh huh. But sir I--yes." There was a long pause on her end of the line as Erin rubbed her temples with her free hand. Her lips pursing, she shut off the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. Taking a deep breath she looked at a quizzical Court. "If you did want my money, you might not object to that annulment now."

"What happened?"

"Michelle meant what she said about my paying. That was her father who called. Since he's my boss, he has the right to fire me and he just exercised that right. So I'm unemployed living in an expensive apartment that I won't be able to afford much longer. I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved with my boss's daughter. That was just asking for trouble." Staring out of the passenger window, she bit her bottom lip wanting to cry or scream in frustration. Perhaps do both. "Could this day get any worse?"

"If it's any consolation to you, I didn't want your money," Court gently said.

"So you married me because?"

"It's an experiment of sorts. Stay married to me for six months and I'll handsomely reimburse you."

Erin looked at her like she was crazy. "You'll pay me in order to stay married to me?" The blonde nodded. "Why? That makes no sense."

"I want to try my hand at writing a novel," another fib, "about two people who don't know each other but they impulsively get married. The novel will follow them over the next six to twelve months of their marriage. I haven't decided if it'll be a drama or comedy yet. Perhaps one of those dramadies. Of course, research would be nice so I was thinking that we could use this marriage to our advantages. Me for my novel and you for one million dollars, which you will receive after six months. Then we can get divorced. How is that?" When Erin only stared at her, she repeated, "How is that? Erin?"

Blinking, Erin looked incredulous. "You're going to give me one million dollars to be your wife for six months." She glanced toward the rear of the car where clothes and personal items were strewn. "It looks like you live in your car. Where is this one million dollars coming from?"

"The majority of the time I do live in my car and the money is in one of my bank accounts."

"So why do you live in your car if you have that kind of money?"

"Here are the cliff notes of my life. Listening?"

"All ears."

"Until a little over a year ago I was a lawyer--a very prosperous lawyer. After ten years I made up my mind to retire at age 36. Except for some of my more casual clothing, laptop, and cell phone I sold just about everything else that I owned. My house, which I made a tidy profit off of, my Jaguar, televisions, computers, minimum five-hundred dollar suits?everything had to go. I became an Ebay selling junkie. Was pretty good at it too." Court grinned. "I even turned in my stocks. Two months after retiring I bought this car and decided that I was going to travel, something I always planned on doing but never left the states.

I practiced in Boston and up until my retirement the only places I went on vacation were California and New York--once each. I got myself a passport and that's what I've been doing for a year now. My latest stop as you can see is Las Vegas and since meeting you last night at that club I decided to settle down and write a book. Don't know if I can but I'm willing to try. It would be nice to have someone--namely you to hang with for a while. Be domesticated. I'd like to take a break from traveling."

"You just decided to write a book last night when we met?"

"Well I've been thinking about it for a couple of months now. Last night was when I made my decision to go through with it. That's if you're interested. You wouldn't have to worry about your rent and I promise I'll be a good roommate."

"I know you don't mean it that way, but Court by going through with this it sounds like I'd be prostituting myself."

"If that's true there are more prostitutes then I thought in this world. Despite your wanting to get an annulment, for now you and I are each other's spouse. We are supposed to take care of each other, be there for each other through good times and bad. Right now you don't have a job and until you get one I am perfectly willing to handle our financial responsibilities. We're partners. Don't let your pride stand in the way. Besides, I feel some responsibility since it is partly my fault that you were fired. Will you please stay married to me?"

"So we'll live like a married couple?"

"In every sense except intimately. That's not necessary." Though I wouldn't necessarily have a problem with that?

"That reminds me. Did we?" Blushing, Erin quietly finished, "consummate our marriage last night?"

"No, we never had sex."

"Then why were we naked?"

Bypassing carrying her bride over the threshold since she outweighed her by 15-20 pounds, Court merely waited for her to enter the hotel room before following. Finding the light switch, she illuminated the spacious room. Removing her jacket, she walked further inside, depositing it over the back of a chair as she looked around.

"This is nice Mrs. Calloway." She grinned at the swaying woman headed toward her.

"Glad you like it Mrs. Tucker." Her lips aimed for Court's mouth but miscalculated by landing on her nose. Releasing a hiccupping chuckle, Erin stumbled toward the bed, sitting on the edge of it. She attempted to undo the buttons of her shirt, but after a full minute passed had yet to slip the first one out.

"Let me help you baby." Kneeling on the floor, Court proceeded to unbutton her shirt. She would undress her wife and put her into bed, but she had zero intention of sleeping with her. If they ever consummated this marriage, she didn't want it to be when Erin was too inebriated to walk straight. Looking into her face she could tell that the younger woman was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open. They would get some sleep tonight and in the morning she would see what happened.

"You undressed me and yourself, we got into bed and went to sleep."

Court confirmed with a brief nod. "That's all that happened."

"If I agree to this we have to split everything 50/50--partners can do that. I have a small nest egg and I'll start looking for another job as soon as we get to San Francisco." She paused thoughtfully. "Do you really have business there on Monday?"

"I'm all for that and no I don't. I just said that as an excuse to escort you the 500+ miles to where you live."

Erin smiled for the first time that day. "I like your honesty Court."

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I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 13 sij 2013 23:01

Carol Barngate je u svojim pedesetima bila vrlo zadovoljna privatnim i profesionalnim životom ...ali iznenadni susret s Jacqueline Reinhart promijeniti će njezinu svakodnevnicu ...
~ Lost ~

The sounds of running water wake me from a blissful sleep. Opening my eyes, I stare at the white swirled ceiling of a room in the Hotel Monaco in Washington D.C. My body is naked and I am sure I still feel kisses lingering everywhere as the taste and smell of Jack fills my senses. Never in my wildest imaginations could I believe anything or anyone could move me to such a passionate encounter. Yet, here I am, pulling back the soft white sheet, letting my bare feet touch the richly carpeted floor, walking towards the bathroom and opening the door. I can’t help myself. I want, no need, to feel that luscious body next to mine again. How is this possible? How did I get to this place? Just ten days ago, I thought my life was complete. I was wrong.

It was just like any other Wednesday, or so I thought. I leaned back in my chair trying to block out the images of abuse Connie Hanson had just shared with me. Twenty-six years ago, I began working at the Health Department as a social worker and I'm still here. From my earliest recollections, my father told me, always have a contingency plan and a backup. I think that philosophy was what helped me survive my profession. Too many of my associates became another statistic of a job with a very high burnout rate. How could one ever survive all the heartache and ugliness in the job without a backup plan? I never took on a case that surprised me and that was my redeeming quality. Now, I am a supervisor of a group of devoted social workers and try to impart my father’s philosophy on them. I am happily married to Mike who works for a large corporation specializing in making light bulbs. That has always been our little joke about the company where he works. We were college sweethearts, married right after graduation, and settled down in a little 'shuttered house with a white picket fence'. A year later our son MJ, Mike junior, was born and I settled into the perfect wife and mother role. Two years later when Kathleen was born we became the perfect all American family. Once both kids were in school, I began working for the county health department and have been there ever since. The kids are all grown now and Mike and I are once again getting to know each other. Our son is a computer engineer who travels around the world installing and troubleshooting multimillion dollar computerized machines for hospital operating rooms. He and his wife, Janet and two children live an hour away. Yep, I am a grandmother…imagine that. Our daughter, Kathleen, is a psychologist living in LA with her husband Richard Sabastian. Life is good. Or, so I thought. As with most, working Wednesdays for the past twenty-five years, my friend Nancy Delarosa and I are to have lunch together. After the grim pictures and details of the child abuse case and the ensuing meeting with the police, I was ready for a nice relaxing hour away. The phone rings and my heart sinks as I hear Nancy’s voice.

"Hey, we need to change the plans…"

“You’re not canceling on me are you?” I blurt out not letting her finish her sentence.

Nancy’s deep resonating laugh lets me know we were still on. “Like I’d cancel today, it is your turn to pay.” Clearing her throat, she continues, “I do have a bit of a problem though.”

“A bit of a problem? Right! Nanc, you never have a bit of anything. What’s up?” Nancy faces life with gusto at a hundred miles an hour.

“We have visitors from DC and I need to bring one of them along with me.”

I smiled. Nancy never did anything because she had to there was a story here I knew it. “So what’s the real reason?” I laughed.

“If I don’t, this person will have to suffer through lunch with the Mayor and his staff.”

“Oh, God not that! By all means bring him along.”

“Her,” she corrected, “and, I will pay this week.”

“Now, Nanc, you know how confused I get with who’s week is whose. It will be my pleasure to pay for everyone’s lunch. It’s not often I get to rescue someone from the clutches of the Mayor. I’ll meet the two of you at Vinny’s. The usual time?”

“Yep, later then. Bye.”

Walking up the street towards Vinny’s, I can see it is already teeming with patrons. Approaching the door, I excuse myself past the crowd of people and enter the restaurant. Once again, I meet another group of waiting diners in a small alcove. I smile when Gio spots me and waves me towards him. Giovanni and Anthony Vincent own the small Italian Restaurant that Nancy and I have frequented most Wednesdays ever since they opened ten years ago. In fact, I seem to recall we were some of the first customers and the owners never have forgotten us. No matter how crowded they are, a decent table is always available.

“Hello, Lady, where is your friend today?” Gio asks as he leads me to a table. Other patrons who were waiting waste no time in loudly protesting to which Gio mumbles something that sounds like Italian cursing.

“She will be along, Gio. We have a third today, will that be a problem?”

“Of course not,” he says as he speaks to the busboy, “Ottenga un altro posto che si regola per questa tabella subito.”

The young man then brings another place setting to the table as Gio pulls out my chair. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure Lady, I will send your friends back when they get here.”

It isn’t too long until I see Nancy’s graying head of hair coming in my direction. Nanc has always been the best dressed person I know and today is no exception. She has on a long dress with matching shoes and of course, her jewelry was coordinated too. We had first met when we both started working at the health department on the same day. She as the personal assistant to the Director of Health and I was just beginning as a social worker. We had gone through orientation and shared a table at lunch and have gravitated towards each other ever since. I remember when I first saw her she reminded me of Billie Jean King in stature and looks. Much to my surprise I found out that she was an avid tennis player and still is all these years later. An instant smile crosses my friend’s face when she sees me waving her over to the table.

“Where’s your DC visitor?”

“Right behind me I hope. She and Gio were having a conversation in Italian and he said he would show her to the table when they were through.” She smiles and winks at me, “she’s a looker and you know how Gio likes the women.”

Looking up I see the owner heading towards us talking animatedly to the most stunning woman I have ever seen. I am sure I must look like an idiot sitting here with my mouth open until Nancy asks, “Is something wrong?”

I quickly regain my composure and say, “No, I think your visitor is on her way.” I nod my head in the direction of the two people who are about to arrive at the table.

“Here you are,” Gio says as he pulls out a chair for the woman.

For someone who prides herself on never being taken by surprise, I am not prepared for the disarming smile or fond pat on the hand that the woman gives Gio. “Grazie.”

"Prego."

That one word sets all my senses on edge. I’m not sure, if is the sound of her voice, or the way the word seems effortlessly to run off her tongue, that catches my attention. The sense of dèjà vous is so overwhelming that I am certain I have heard that voice before.

“Carol, this is Jacqueline Reinhart who is visiting from the Department of Health and Human Services.” Nancy tries to sound nonplussed by the woman’s importance, but I know she is impressed.

“Nice to meet you, Jacqueline,” I direct towards the woman whose blue eyes are fixed on me.

She holds out her hand and I take it marveling at the softness and power. “Nice to meet you too, Carol, please call me Jack.”

Reluctantly I let go of her hand. “Any special reason for your visit to our fair city, ah, Jack?”

The same disarming smile she gave Gio is now focused on me. “I am getting together a team to see if we can streamline any of the social services we offer both nationally and locally.” She turns towards Nancy, “I am particularly impressed by the solid record of service this city is providing its citizens.”

Obviously Nancy was under the woman’s spell too for I see her blushing for the first time in twenty-five years. Nancy, in her capacity as assistant to the director of health services, acts as the liaison between the health department and the Mayor’s office. It is because of the implementation of her plan that the department runs so smoothly.

“Jack has asked for a representative from our department to join her in DC next week to lend some ideas to a national program modeled after ours and several other cities.” Nancy was interrupted with the vibration of her cell phone. “Sorry, I need to take this,” she said as she looked at the caller ID.

If the truth were told, I am glad for the chance to be one on one with Jack. How can I describe this woman? For that matter, how can we describe anyone who invades one’s mind and body from an objective viewpoint? She is taller than my five foot six inches; probably around five eight or nine would be my guess. Her shoulder length hair is light brown or perhaps it has been highlighted, I’m not sure. The navy blue suit she is wearing accentuates her eyes making them bluer. They don’t seem to be a true blue. I wonder if they change when she wears different colors. Her body is soft yet firm if that contradiction in terms is at all possible. I can tell that at one point in her life it was what one would consider a ‘killer body’. Now, with time, it has gone a bit soft, but still tempts quite a few I am certain. I remember her walking into the restaurant and noticing her long shapely legs. Yes, she does tempt one. I am wondering where that came from as Nancy closes her phone.

“Sorry, Ladies, I must get back to the office… there seems to be a bit of an emergency that cannot be handled without me.” She narrows her eyes then shakes her head. “Jack, I will leave you in Carol’s capable hands until we meet around two in the third floor conference room.” Nancy gives us a beleaguered smile as she stands up. “You, my friend,” she says looking at me, “I will see later.”

As I watch my dear, old friend walk away, I find myself glad she is going. What an odd feeling this seems for me…I want this magnificent woman all to myself. I can feel my cheeks get hot with the thought and quickly lift the menu up over my face.

“They have a very good antipasto salad Jack, if you are interested in something along that line. Also, they make a wonderful chicken parm sandwich if you feel like being decadent.” I peer over the menu and see amused blue eyes. “Is something funny?”

Her hearty deep laugh makes my skin tingle. “Chocolate is decadent. I never heard anyone refer to anything chicken as decadent.”

I can feel my face get hot with a blush as I wish the table would engulf me.

Once again, that disarming smile brightens her face. “That’s cute.”

“Cute? What’s cute?” Please let a tornado swoop down and get me out of here! Is the prayer I send up to the weather gods.

“You ladies ready to order?” said the harried voice of our waiter.

I feel my body relax with the words. “Yes, I’ll have a grilled chicken salad and a diet soda.”

“And you, Miss?” the waiter says looking at Jack.

A wry smile crosses her lips. “I have it on good authority that your chicken parmesan sandwich is decadent.”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am, it is the best in town.”

Closing her menu, Jack hands it to the waiter. “Then that is what I shall have along with a cup of coffee.”

“Good one,” I say with a laugh.

When Nancy left, Jack never moved so she is still sitting next to me and now her eyes are fixed on me. They seemed to be searching and dissecting my inner being. Finally, when the waiter brings our drinks she looks away then speaks.

“I’m really glad that circumstances allowed us to have lunch together, Carol,” she said softly, “I’ve been studying social services departments all over the country for the past three months. The one here is by far the most outstanding for productivity and retention. I was especially impressed with your department. How have you managed to have such a high case load ratio and such a low drop out rate of workers?” Her brow furrowed, “Nancy tells me it was your revamping of the system that made all the difference.”

Again, I blush. “Nancy is a good friend, but her claims are a bit over zealous as it was a joint effort of everyone.”

“Would you mind sharing?”

“Not at all. It is very simple really…once we figured out a man wrote the job descriptions.”

I watch as Jack’s face brightens in surprise. “A man is responsible for poor social services practices? Just how did you figure that one out?”

It is obvious, but glancing at her ring finger and seeing no ring, I figure she might not understand. “Whoever wrote the job descriptions obviously has never done any hands on social services work. Many job descriptions are written with unrealistic standards. I have often suspected that somewhere out there is a template of a blanket job description for all jobs. Besides, we all knew men always have to go around the barn six times before going in the front door.”

She laughs. “You’re probably right on that one. So, tell me, what changes did you make?”

Now it is my turn to look deep into her eyes because I want to know if I am being played or not. Finding no discernable deception, I open my pocketbook and take out a pen and a small notebook. “Let me draw you a diagram of how we saw the problem and how it could be corrected.”

Soon our heads are together as I show her our plan while answering her thoughtful and knowledgeable questions. Our food arrives and goes untouched as our discussion occupies our every thought. Finally, Jack’s cellphone rings startling us out of our intense dialogue.

“Jacqueline Reinhart.” She is all business in her tone and manner yet, smiles when she looks in my direction. “I had no idea it was that late…I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Closing her phone, she looks at me apologetically. “Do you realize it is after two?”

I’m sure my eyes show my surprise. Have we really been sitting here for over two hours? Our food is still sitting on the table. “Wow, I had no idea. We never touched our food.”

She reaches over and touches my hand, “I enjoyed every minute.” Her hesitation seems uncharacteristic. “Do you think we could get together for dinner and continue our discussion and maybe even eat our food?”

Something is happening to me that I can’t put into words. The thought of Jack leaving is just as devastating as the idea of seeing her again. “Why don’t you come to my house and have dinner with my husband and me?” I am surprised when she looks away.

“No, I can’t do that.” She puts a twenty on the table before getting up. “Perhaps another time then.”

I am dumbfounded by this turn of events and quickly gather up my belongings and start after her. “Jack, wait up, I’m going the same way.” She turns and in that one moment, I am lost, truly lost.

“Come on then, I’m late.”

“Not to worry, I know a shortcut.” For some reason unknown to me I take her hand and squeeze, “so where are you taking me for dinner tonight?”

There is that disarming smile again. “Shortcuts are good, but sometimes it is the long patient way that is the most rewarding. As for dinner, it will be someplace special.”

Her voice is laced with such sensuality that I am finding it hard to speak. “This way,” I say tugging on her arm as I point towards a side street. “This will put us directly in front of the building.”

Standing in the crowded elevator, she leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’ll stop by your office when the meeting is over and we can discuss dinner.”

I turn, look at her and try to shake the feeling that we have met before. But, how can that be? We just met two hours ago. I watch as she exits the elevator and I am not sure my knees will continue to support me. Once the doors close and she is gone I am again lost.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/erin_orielly_lost.html
nastavak http://www.xenafiction.net/scrolls/eo_jack.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 25 ožu 2013 01:25

Sutra će The Ponedjeljak žaliti za nama, ali proći će. Nade umiru ponedjeljkom.
Vrijeme za spavanje je onda kad nestane cigara.

Lakše bih dala bubreg nego pola kolača, ali niko za bubreg ni da priupita, a kolače mi ne ostavljaju na miru. :( Ne zanima me što živimo zajedno, jebemo se, imamo iste roditelje, šta god-TO JE MOJA HRANA, TO NE SMIJEŠ DA POJEDEŠ, TO SAM SEBI OSTAVILA!!!
Mama pokušava da mi proda priču kako je pas pojeo posljednje dve bajadere sa sve omotom, a ja je gledam i kontam na koga sam ja naučila da lažem. Ništa bar je tv još upaljen .Ne kontam. Svuda porno kanali 24/7. A i dalje ljudi vape da vide malecku neke poznate ličnosti. PA KOLIKO MOŽE DA SE RAZLIKUJE?!
Na Pinku je izgleda glavna politika kuće "Snimamo odozdo!" Nikada se ne zna kad će ti se posrećiti da neka pevaljka dođe bez gaća."
Za 7 dana 7 kilograma manje!" Može ako je amputacija uključena u dijetni program.
Apstinencijom protiv spolnih bolesti , hmm nakon svakog posjeta ginekologu pitam se tko će psihijatra da mi plati?
Mail mi se pretvorio u savjetovalište za prekinute ljubavi. Meni kad god su muvali dečka-ja sam dizala ruke od toga. I noge. Njemu na ramena.Svi moji momci su se pre mene zabavljali sa plavušama. Da, da, obojica. A curu reko čika Vuco "ima žena nema broja"!
Ko se bre zabavlja s ovim večno nadrkanim ženturačama?! Pa taman da joj je malecka zlatna!
Znaš kakve noge imam-do poda!! extra smorila sam se , ko i Nena Antena u Beogradskoj skupštini ili pak Žak sa svojom željom da smršavi!
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

str8faith
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 27 ožu 2013 23:35

Skinite se i lezite (S.Koprivica)

Često vidim naslov u nekom od ženskih časopisa - “Poseta ginekologu ne mora biti neprijatno iskustvo”.

Budalaština. Mora. Posete ginekologu nisu samo neprijatno iskustvo, one su merna jedinica za neprijatnost. Znate onaj čuveni san koji smo svi sanjali kao klinci - stojiš u učionici ispred table, a nemaš gaće, pa se još i upiškiš? E, osećaj koji imaš tokom tog sna je otprilike 0,7 pg (pg=posete ginekologu) na skali neprijatnosti.

Okej, znamo, mora se. Obavezno je. Može da ti spasi život. Može da spasi život tebi i još nekolicini osoba pored tebe. Sve je to tačno, ali mogu valjda da kukam? Sad već čujem u glavi glas moje majke: “Hoće li ti biti lakše ako kukaš toliko?” - hoće! Nikada nisam imala ozbiljnih problema, nikada nisam bila trudna, ali i dalje mrzim ginekologe - i državne i privatne. Ne znam koji su mi gori. Jedni te muče grubošću, drugi te muče preteranom (i odglumljenom) brigom. Evo, ovako:

Dom zdravlja

Ona priča kako se kod ginekologa ide prvi put čim se dobije prva menstruacija je potpuna bajka. Ona priča da se kod ginekologa ide odmah nakon prvog seksualnog odnosa je takođe bajka. Bolna istina je da se kod ginekologa ode prvi put isključivo onda kada osetiš kako ti na “donjoj platformi” nešto nije kako treba, a nisi sigurna šta. Tek kad umreš od straha, pretpostavki i rezultata očajničkog guglanja, e - tek tada se uzima knjižica i ide u Dom zdravlja. Teška srca.

Već u čekaonici ti je jasno da nema nade za tebe. Tu zatičeš čitav spektar namučenih trudnica - od onih što ne spavaju jer su se zeznule, do onih što ne spavaju jer su htele bebu, ali državni sistem zdravstva taj proces čini jezivim. Zajedno sa njima, ali vrlo usamljene, šetkaju se devojke koje nisu dovoljno pazile. “2 u 1” - očaj i krivica, na dve noge.

Kada konačno dođeš na red, shvataš da lekarka nije tu da te uteši što te nešto boli, niti da ti to zaleči, već da ti nabije grižu savesti epskih proporcija. Onako, vaspitno.

”-Šta koristite od zaštite?

- Kondome.

- To vam nije 100% sigurno.

- Znam.

- Pilule, ništa?

- Mislite da pređem na pilule?

- Pilule štite samo od neželjene trudnoće, ne i od bolesti.

- Znači, treba da koristim i pilule i kondome?!

- To vam opet nije 100% sigurno.

- Pa šta jeste?

- Apstinencija.”

I tu je kraj svakoj priči. Doktorka ti je jasno stavila do znanja da nije zadovoljna što imaš bilo kakav seksualni život jer joj to automatski povećava količinu posla. Što se ti manje trošiš, to se i ona manje troši. Molim lepo.

O ostatku pregleda tokom kojeg se osećaš kao krava kod veterinara neću ni da govorim. U stvari, nije mi dobro poređenje, verujem da su veterinari mnogo nežniji. Izdvojila bih samo ultrazvuk koji datira iz prekambrijskog perioda i zahteva od tebe da zadržiš u bešici oko 2l tečnosti da bi doktorka uspela da nasluti da li je u pitanju upala jajnika ili bezgrešno začeće.

slika

Privatna poliklinika

Poučena iskustvom sa državnim institucijama u gradu, reših da svoje obavezne sistematske ginekološke preglede obavljam u prestižnim privatnim poliklinikama. Makar mi sve pare otišle na to.

O, radosti! Ordinacije uređene kao spa-centri, klijentela smirena i nasmejana, lekari odmorni i ljubazni. Čim se skineš, daju ti pufnaste papučice da nežno protapkaš do ležaja za pregled. Doktorka je oduševljena tobom. Dobijaš svakakve komplimente. Malo fali da ti kaže “Gospođice, ništa lično, ali ovo je najlepša vagina koju sam ikada videla!”, a iza nje hor asistenata koji sinhrono klimaju glavama. I taman kad te nateraju da zaboraviš traume iz Doma zdravlja, kreće sledeći dijalog:

”- Kakvu zaštitu koristite?

- Kondome.

- To vam nije 100% sigurno.

- Znači, da pređem na pilule?

- Obavezno. Evo mogu odmah da vam preporučim i koje. To je sjajan proizvod, u pitanju je proverena firma. /Sledi reklama koja traje dobrih 20 minuta dok vam doktorka istražuje po sistemu za reprodukciju sa onom rudarskom opremom na glavi/.”

E, tu mi je cela stvar postala sumnjiva. Postala je i još sumnjivija čim sam sa ležaja za kolposkopiju u pufnastim papučicama pretapkala do stola za ultrazvučni pregled. U 5D tehnologiji. (Ne šalim se. Stvarno se zove 5D. Kapiram da će se Avatar 2 snimati na nekom ginekološko-akušerskom odeljenju.) Tu je sledio ovakav dijalog sa ljubaznim čikom-“ultrazvučnikom”:

”- Jao, kakva divna materica.

- Ovaj… Hvala?

- Divna, divna materica. Spremna za bebu. Kada planirate?

- Ne planiram još uvek.

- Ne? Zašto, zaboga? Sad je vreme! Treba iskoristiti ovako divnu matericu!

- Nije baš da imam uslova.

- Gde ima volje, ima i načina.

- Verujem ja da ima načina da zatrudnim, samo, ko će to posle da izdržava?

- To su sve izgovori, znate. Da sam ja čekao da se steknu svi uslovi, nikada ne bih imao decu. Vaše je samo da ostanete u drugom stanju, a mi ćemo se pobrinuti za sve ostalo.

- Znači, kad se porodim, vama da donesem bebu da je dojite?

- Hahahahaha. Šalu na stranu, verujte mi, naša klinike poseduje… /I tu je usledilo 20 minuta reklame klinike dok je čika vršljao skenerom po mom stomaku, odlučan da ja rodim dete, koliko odmah./”

I tako se u meni pojavilo iskonsko nepoverenje prema privatnicima. Iako su neuporedivo prijatniji od državnih lekara, dobila sam neki grozan osećaj da će za adekvatnu sumu zaraženoj osobi reći da će uz njihovu pomoć hlamidijica da prođe kao rukom odnesena, herpeščić mirakulozno da se povuče, a kondilomčići veselo odskakutaju u nepoznatom pravcu.

Znam da preterujem, ali činjenica je da je teško verovati osobama koje ti se očajnički šlihtaju.

******

Cilj ovog teksta nije da bilo koga odgovori od redovne posete ginekologu. Naprotiv. Idite što češće. Sprečite bolesti u nastanku. Ako su moja iskustva bila neprijatna na rutinskim pregledima, zamislite kakva bi tek bila da sam ozbiljno bolesna? Zamislite koliko bih se mučila da sam morala da idem od stručnjaka do stručnjaka u potrazi za adekvatnom terapijom? Najbolje bi bilo da se u startu potrudite oko prevencije.

Okej, nisam rekla apstinencije, nego prevencije. Ko će pored ginekologa još i psihijatra da plaća…
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
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Afrodita
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la Afrodita » 27 ožu 2013 23:57

Anna i Lily....priča o svakodnevnom životu ... problemima i sretnim trenucima...alkoholizmu, posvajanju djece, odrastanju bez obitelji, otkrivanju svoje seksualnosti ... nekoliko nastavaka ...Shaken, Stirred, Strained, Anna's Christmas, I Told You So, Blood of My Blood

Shaken
by KG MacGregor

"Hello!" Lily called out. Desperate to find the source of the voice she had heard, she asked again, "Where are you? Are you hurt?" Hearing nothing, she feared the worst for the woman who had cried out. The aftershock had brought the ceiling lower, but Lily was safely crouched at a low point in the bookstore. If the woman was at a higher point, she may have been hurt?or worse. "Talk to me! Where are you?" she yelled. Still no response. Lily understood the danger she was in. The next tremor might bring the ceiling all the way down, sealing her underground with no hope of rescue. But she couldn't forge ahead knowing that there was someone else trapped here, someone who likely had no chance at all without her help. Her mind made up, Lily started to scramble toward the direction of the sound.
After more than an hour of groping in the darkness and calling out, Lily's hand brushed upon a full head of thick hair, then a warm face. "There you are. I finally found you," she said with relief. Reaching out, Lily discovered that the woman was pinned underneath a bookshelf. The top shelf lay across her chest. She found a strong pulse in the woman's neck, and gently patted the woman's cheek until she felt her stir.

Anna's eyes fluttered open, but in the darkness, she couldn't see who was touching her face. Nonetheless, she felt calmed by the presence of this other person. "Thank god," Anna murmured, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "I'm?the bookshelf is?"

"Yeah, I can feel it across your chest. Can you move?"

"It hurts. My leg?the whole weight of the shelf is on it. Every time I try to push it up off my chest, it presses harder into my knee," she explained. Taking a deep breath, she went on. "That last tremor made it even heavier. I think something fell on it." Lily could hear the relief in the woman's voice, relief she assumed was because someone had come to help.

"Well, let's see if we can get you out of here." Lily crawled alongside the woman. The second shelf lay across the woman's lower abdomen, just above her hips. She ran her hand underneath it, noting that it wasn't pressed tightly against the woman's body.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd buy you dinner first," Lily joked, hoping to ease the woman's tension. "I'm Lily, by the way. I thought you'd like to know who was feeling you up."

Anna laughed at the joke, not minding at all the hands that brushed against her to help free her. "I'm Anna, and I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you! I've been screaming for hours."

"Yeah well, sorry. I was busy trying on a new top."

Anna was comforted by the woman's gentle humor. She caught the small hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for coming to help me," she said sincerely.

"No problem," Lily reassured the woman, returning the squeeze. She then pulled her hand away and reached lower to gently touch Anna's knee where the lower shelf pinched the swollen flesh. "I can see why this hurts so much. This shelf is digging into your knee. Let's see if we can take some of the pressure off." Reaching around her in the dark, Lily began gathering books into two piles, one underneath the shelf that pinned Anna's knee, the other beside the top shelf that pressed against her chest. When the piles were stacked even with the shelf, she told Anna of her plan. "I need you to get ready to push up on the shelf on your end. I'm going to lift this one up at the same time and slip a couple of books under it. Then I'll put a couple of books under your shelf."

"Just say when," Anna said, gripping the shelf.

Lily double-checked the positions of her stacks of books, and kneeled next to Anna's knee. There was barely enough headroom for her to straighten up. "Ready? Now."

Both women grunted as they lifted their respective shelves. Lily strained to hold the bookshelf with one hand while her other quickly slid two thin books onto the top of the stack. Next, she added one thick book to the stack next to the top shelf. When they released their loads, the shelf was still touching, but not pressing into Anna's leg. The other shelf was no longer resting on the woman. Anna was so relieved that she could have cried. Her foot began to tingle as the blood once again surged through her lower leg.

"Is that better?" Lily asked hopefully.

"Much better! Most of the pressure is off my leg now, and I can't feel the other shelf at all."

"Think you can do that again? One more time, and I think I'll be able to pull you out."

"Ready when you are," Anna replied eagerly.

They repeated the procedure, this time adding one thick hardback book to each stack. "How's that?" Lily asked as she reached again to Anna's knee.

I'm free! "It still hurts, but at least I can move now." Anna squirmed, trying to no avail to slide out of her prison. "I need to get out from under this thing," the exasperation evident in her voice.

"Let me help." Lily moved up and slipped her hands underneath the woman's arms. "Tell me when you're out." Slowly, she scooted backwards, extricating Anna from the vise that had held her for almost nine hours. It seemed to Lily that she had backed up ten feet. "Good God, woman! How tall are you?"

"About five-ten."

"Amazon!"

"And you?"

"Five-five."

"Pygmy!"

Lily threw her head back and laughed heartily. Anna joined her, and both women felt a little of the palpable tension of the past several hours start to lessen, perhaps simply from the knowledge that they were no longer in this alone.

Once Anna was free, the two women moved slowly to the lowest part of the room. The injured woman's knee was throbbing, and she couldn't support her full weight on it. She followed Lily to the far wall, and sat while the shorter woman felt for a path to the next room.

"Is there a method to your madness, or do we just keep moving any way we can?" Anna asked.

"In the other rooms, I've found a break between the wall and the ceiling right where the floor has sunk the most," Lily explained. "I'm hoping we'll find an opening, maybe some light from the atrium or even outside. If we do, we'll work towards getting out that way. There's no way out back the way I came."

"Sounds like a plan. What do you want me to do?"

"If you can crawl up to the front of the store, try feeling around the ceiling for a breeze, or even air that's a different temperature. If you find something, it might mean there's a way into the atrium."

Anna did as she was told, but after almost an hour, she had found no clue of a break in collapsed walls. Her leg was aching badly, but she kept it to herself. We have enough to worry about. Lily, though, had located another pass-through halfway up the east wall. The weight of the store above them had pushed on the wall and forced it to buckle. A small hole had formed between the two sliding layers of wall and the two women pushed and pulled one another until they both fell from the gap into the adjacent bridal shop.

"God, I could sleep for a week!" Lily flopped down into the pile of lace and satin lining the crevasse that bisected the store. Racks of wedding gowns had rolled into the gaping hole and toppled, layering the earth which had broken through the store floor with a strange blanket of plush cloth.

"Maybe we should stop and rest a few hours," Anna suggested casually, falling beside her savior.

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm worried about the aftershocks. The ceiling dropped during the last one, and the next one could finish the job. If that happens, I'd realize my worst fear."

"What's that? Being buried alive?"

"No, being caught dead in a bridal shop," Lily deadpanned.

Anna laughed and reached across the darkness to elbow her companion jovially. After a moment, she said, "Look, I know it's a risk. But my stomach tells me that it's way after dark, and if we wait, we'll have a better chance of seeing an opening in the daylight."

Lily considered Anna's point, but persisted, "I really think it would be best if we kept moving."

"I can't, Lily," Anna finally confessed. "My knee is killing me. I'm going to have to rest it, at least for a couple of hours."

"Do you mind if I check your knee?" Lily reached toward Anna's leg and ran her hand across the woman's injured knee. She heard Anna's breath catch in her throat as she anticipated the tenderness in the joint. Lily was shocked to discover how swollen it was. "Anna! Why didn't you say something? God, it must hurt like hell!" She groped around on the floor until she found what felt like a small display pedestal. Pulling it over to the tall woman, she piled several cloths-probably $3,000 wedding dresses-on top to soften it, and gently lifted Anna's leg to place it on the cushion.

Anna considered the gravity of their predicament for a moment and finally proposed, "I know it's still dangerous in here. Maybe you should go ahead by yourself. When you get out, you can tell them where I am. I'm only going to slow you down."

Lily didn't hesitate. "We're going out together, Anna. I think we'll be safe here-it's a low point. We'll rest a few hours and move out when your leg's better. Besides, with two of us, we should make good time if we're rested."

Both women leaned back and got as comfortable as they could. A minute or so passed and Anna asked into the darkness, "So why are you so afraid of bridal shops?" She was impressed that this woman could keep her sense of humor at a time like this. It was calming, and she knew somehow that the story behind that phobia would be a good one.

Lily chuckled. "Let's just say that walking down the aisle in a white dress has never been on my list of dreams."

"Wish I'd had that foresight," Anna mumbled. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"Well, it isn't wisdom, exactly." Lily wavered. She was usually up front about her sexuality, but finding herself trapped with a homophobe would be the icing on the cake for a day like today. "It just isn't for me."

Anna heard the hesitation and regretted putting her new friend on the spot. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get personal."

"No, it's okay?I just?" Oh, what the hell. "I'm gay."

Silence. More silence. Shit! Should have kept my big fat mouth shut!

"Oh?so you really were feeling me up?" Anna threw another elbow into Lily's rib, and the young woman let out the breath she'd been holding.

I like this lady! Lily thought with relief as she laughed out loud.

http://xenafiction.net/scrolls/kg_macgregor_sh1.html
I want her everywhere and if she's beside me I know I need never care but to love her is to need her everywhere knowing that love is to share

str8faith
Postovi: 6910
Pridružen/a: 21 svi 2012 21:56
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Re: Priče

Post Postao/la str8faith » 06 tra 2013 22:46

Misli jednog hrčka

Ne uživam u trčanju, ali sam prinuđena da se njime bavim tu i tamo. Jedini razlog zašto pristajem da se mučim jeste činjenica da volim da jedem kao čovek, a ne kao miš. Ironija leži u tome što dok trčim (isključivo u teretani, jer me nekako sramota da trčkaram po ulicama grada i zbunjujem prolaznike svojom izbezumljenom facom) izgledam upravo kao nesrećni glodar, podvrgnut brojnim eksperimentima surovih naučnika. Tome doprinosi i apsurd da dok trčim ne idem nikud, samo skakućem po traci koja se vrti u krug. Baš kao i krzneni zamorčići.

Ako vas je ikada zanimalo o čemu razmišlja jedan hrčak dok trči bez cilja i smisla, evo prilično preciznog transkripta mojih misli sa trake, onim redom kako mi i prolaze kroz glavu:

”- To je to. Imam tačno mesec dana, jer sledi bitan događaj/toplije vreme/borba protiv depresije/opet sam se ukočila/itd., treniraću svaki dan dok ne padnem s nogu, ima da se zategnem kao čuvarka plaže. Okej, minus sise. Okej, minus građa. Okej, minus… Okej, ima da se zategnem kao ja kad se zategnem.

- Vidi ovu tetku na traci do mene. Šta se tripuje? Ima minimum 50 i nešto godina. Šta će ona, kao, nešto da trči? Ima da se gega u najboljem slučaju. Baš je slatka, kupila je skupu opremu i našminkala se. Kakav pacer. Šta, kao, namešta nešto brzinu, smejurija… Ček…. Ma ovo joj je prebrzo, nema šanse da… Au…’Ladno… ‘Alo, bre… Pa ne možeš na tu visinu tom brzinom… ‘Alo!… Idi, bre, tetka je profi. Koja sam ja jadnica.

- Nije mi jasno. Prošlo je pet minuta, ne bole me mišići, ali me bole pluća…

-Nije mi jasno. Prošlo je deset minuta, ne bole me pluća, ali me bole mišići…

- Nije mi jasno. Prošlo je dvanaest minuta, sve me boli i hoću da umrem. Hoću da umrem i da me nema. Hoću da me onda kremiraju i moj pepeo prospu na nekom lepom mestu. Ne, ne mogu sad da umrem, moram da smršam prvo, a i nisam formatirala disk na kompu, sigurno će da kopaju po njemu kad umrem.

- Pazi sponzorušu. Šta, bre, ona ima da trči koji moj, nema šta da troši. Grama sala nema. Sve joj je na svom mestu. Jao, vidi dupe. Okej, provalila je da je gledam u dupe, ispalila sam se. Ona sigurno nema snage da trči kao i ja. Sad ću ja brže od nje… Sad ću ja još brže…. Sad ću još, još, brže… I još, još… AMAN! Sad ću intenzivno brzo da hodam, to je ionako zdravije. A ona je možda zgodna, ali je sigurno glupa k’o kurac.

- Dobro mi ide ovo hodanje. Možda nije baš brzo, ali sigurno aktivira više mišića nego trčanje, to sam negde pročitala. Ma da. Malo mi je dosadno. Plazma je čak tamo, ali ako se okrenem ka njoj, sleteću sa trake. Dobro, gledaću TV perifernim vidom, to je isto mega-zdravo, to sam negde pročitala.

- Samo kad bi promenili kanal. Mrzim Foks Lajf. Opet repriziraju “Seks i grad”, mrzim “Seks i grad”. Znam ovu epizodu. Sad će Keri sebe da upoređuje sa divljom, nesputanom kobilom zato što se još nije udala. Haha, kobila, hahaha, op, sleteću sa trake. Dobro je, menjaju kanal. Jao, samo ne Nacionalnu Geografiju. Ne mogu da trčim uz “Život gmizavaca”. Opet menjaju… Neeeeeee, samo ne fudbal!!! Vratite mi Foks Lajf!

- Još deset minuta. Samo još deset minuta. Samo još devet… Još deset minuta. Ovaj sat se ne pomera.

- Mene niko ne voli. Niko me ne voli, svi misle da sam ružna, debela i glupa. A kad smršam, misliće da sam samo ružna i glupa. Super. Ne znam čemu sve ovo. Život je, generalno, potpuno besmislen.

- Konačno! Još dva minuta opuštanja i kraj. Osećam se sjajno. Veliki posao sam obavila danas. Ogroman. Sigurno sam i puno smršala, a i definicija se već vidi. Koji sam ja car. Evo, gledaju me druge žene pogledima prepunim divljenja i zavisti. Samo vi gledajte, žene, imate šta i da vidite. Ha. Dominacija.

- Ono tamo ogledalo širi i skraćuje, nije to realna slika.

- Gladna sam. Idem da jedem. Da jedem kao prase. Potrošila sam taj obrok unapred i zaslužujem da budem na pozitivnoj nuli. Ako sam i prase, bar sam mangulica.”

Eto. Tako se odvija kruženje sala u prirodi. Dosadno, monotono, besmisleno. A opet, uvek ima taj neki važan događaj/toplije vreme/borba protiv depresije/opet sam se ukočila/itd. - period, i valjalo bi se pripremiti. Hrčak ne razmišlja mnogo, hrčak trči. U krug. Kako drugačije?
Bezi Jankec, bezi Jankec
cug ti bu pobegel

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