Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 12

Ben made his grand entrance down the stairs. I don’t know where he got his costume, but it wasn’t from the Lido. Ben was dressed like … Assassin’s Creed. White hood, extra long black leather vest, with a black leather crossbelt. He had a long white shirt, with blue trim, wrist guards, and high leather boots. OK – I admit it – he looked pretty cool. But Assassin’s Creed? Really?

Eliza and Sheila came down together. I had already seen Ee’s costume, but I was certainly not tired of looking at it. Sheila, though, had gotten quite creative. She had a black kerchief on her head, and long dark hair hanging down to her waist. It was a wig! She also had a white lace shirt that left her shoulders bare, a lace-up corset, and a burgundy-coloured skirt down to her ankles. She had a petticoat, too, but it was transparent. When she lifted her skirts, you could see quite a bit of leg over the top of her high-heeled, lace-up boots. Add to that a black velvet choker … and Sheila looked pretty good.

– “Fantastic.” I told her. “You look sexy and dangerous at the same time.”

– “Good.” she said. “That’s kind of what I was hoping for.”

– “Love the wig, too.” I added.

– “You would.”

Leo finally came down, in his Jack Sparrow costume. He got a round of applause. I had to laugh – he had added the eye makeup.

Then Teresa came out, and she got applause, too. My ex was very, very smart: she didn’t try to upstage any of the players. Her costume was deliberately less sexy than any of the others. She had a tricorne hat, and a really cute dress that looked like a gentleman’s long coat, except that it ended in a skirt. It was burgundy color, with wide black lapels and large brass buttons down the front. Her white shirt was buttoned at the neck, so that she showed no cleavage whatsoever. The shirt had wide, elaborate lace cuffs. The skirt reached to her knees, but high boots and a thick, frilly petticoat meant that she was showing only a couple of inches of skin. For a final touch, she had a replica pistol tucked into a broad black belt.

Compared to Claire and the others, Teresa’s costume made her look like a pirate Mother Superior. She was attractive and authoritative, without the blatant, outrageous sexuality of the others. It suited her, somehow, as if she truly belonged in another century. Understated, yet effective.

– “Very, very impressive.” I told her.

– “Thank you.” she said, with her classic half-smile. “Are we all here?” she asked.

– “Everyone except Barbara.” said Eliza.

– “Ah. Well, then – everybody should make sure that they have a fresh drink.” said Teresa.

Barbara was last, of course. No one was surprised. She got to make her grand entrance. And she still managed to exceed our expectations.

Barbara wore a long coat – yes, burgundy-colored. What was it with that colour for pirate costumes? The wide lapels were black, and the lining of her coat featured a swirling pattern of black and gold. She had a white shirt with cuffs like Teresa’s, but the resemblance ended there; Barbara’s neckline was scandalously low, showing an insane amount of cleavage. I wanted to get a ruler or a tape measure and stick my hands in there.

She had a tight little corset lifting and supporting her large boobs, and a gold chain around her neck. There may have been a pendant attached, but I couldn’t see one, as it disappeared into the enormous crevasse between her tits. Her belt had a large, ornate brass buckle. Her legs were snugly sheathed in black tights, tucked into knee-high black high-heeled boots. On top, she had a wide-brimmed black felt hat with a fake ostrich feather.

And would you believe it: she was wearing an eye patch.

Barbara must have spent hours combing all of the costume shops to find the most outrageously sexy components they had. She also wore makeup to match – lots and lots around her eyes. She came down the stairs, slowly, and struck a pose.

I would have bet a sizeable fortune that every guy there was hard as a rock. It wasn’t just Barbara – though she could have cause a riot in a monastery – it was the combined effect of six very attractive women dressed to match a variety of male fantasies.

 

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Kimiko – Chapter 5 – Text to Fix

After my wonderful first date with the lovely Kimiko, I really wanted to see her again. I was going to try to set something up for a lunch this week. I also sent her a link to this great documentary about the Asian Bank, “Abacus: Small Enough Too Jail.” (If you’ve been following this blog you’ll know that I saw that film in the theater with Ambria.)

I’m texting her.

“Thank you! I’m still at work! How are you?”

“I’m at the salon working too! I’ve been thinking about our fun date last night!”

“Another busy day, right?

“Not too busy here tonight. Rain is keeping people away.”

“Yea…Wholefoods too.”

 

Tuesday

“Would you still be up for lunch on Thursday?”

“Hey, I’m done work now. Thursday I have a doctor’s appointment at 2pm. What time is good for you?”

“Shall we do 11 or 11:30? What works best for you?”

“My doctor’s office is in Moorestown. Quite far away from the city. You have to work Thursday?

“3 to 8pm. Looking at a property at 10am.”

“Oh.”

“Weekend better for you?”

“I guess so.”

“Aww! Saturday after 5 or Sunday after 4pm? Movies? Or I could do a Zip Car and come to Jersey. Or I could hop on Patco and we could dine in Haddonfield or Collingswood.”

“Great! We can talk later.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The week passes and so does the weekend. I don’t hear from her at all. I really like Kimiko and want to hang out with her again. (And kiss her again!) My schedule just really sucks right now.  I decide to make another attempt.

Monday

“Hi Kimiko. Have you lost interest?”

“You didn’t text me last week?!”

“I wanted to after I came up with a few solutions on how we could meet and I didn’t hear from you for the weekend. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.”

“You know what, it’s a misunderstanding, because I didn’t hear from you again, I thought you went on another date.”

“No. Like I said I have been working a lot lately. I like you and I thought our first date went really well.”

“Thank you. Yea, I had a good time too.”

“So you’re still interested in getting to know me and you’d like to go out again.”

“Sure!!”

“Yay!”

“Things have been busy getting this business off the ground. But I want to stay in touch with you and find ways to spend time with you whenever we can!”

“Yes! Sounds good! Because this weekend I’m going to New York for a baby shower.”

“Sounds good. I’m so glad we chatted tonight. I feel so much better and I hope you do too, Kimiko.”

“Indeed. You know sometimes online dating just ends for no reason.”

“I guess, but I think we have a good connection.”

“Yes!”

“Awesome. “Well have fun at the shower up in New York. We’ll chat again soon!”

“Absolutely!”

“Thank you, Kimiko.”

So I’ll leave it there for now. Hopefully once I get through the next week, I should have some free time to see her. I don’t want her to get away, but I fear that if I wait too long she will.

 

 

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Tales of Rock: Iggy Pop

Iggy Pop has been around forever, and is responsible for that one song you definitely know, and several more you probably don’t. As a consequence of being around forever, there’s two distinct phases in his career: the drug phase and the post-drug phase.

First the drug phase–and hang on to your butts, because this is pretty nasty. Back in 1969-1970, Iggy and his original band, the Stooges, all hung out together in an apartment in Detroit, and, possibly because no one had invented the internet yet, they got bored and started doing a lot of heroin. A side note: One of the quirks about taking heroin intravenously is that after shooting up, you end up with a bit of blood inside the hypodermic. Which these guys started squirting out over the walls and ceiling. Imagine what that apartment must have looked like after a few weeks and months, and keep in mind that heroin is not known for being much of a motivator, and you start to realize why getting these guys out to a show might have been somewhere between difficult and your worst nightmare.

A Typical Day If You Were Iggy Pop’s Personal Assistant (Drug Phase):

You: No. I am not going back into that apartment. Because fuck you guys, that’s why. If you need me, I will be five thousand miles away and on fire, because I quit, and because I will light myself on fire having seen what I just saw. Fuck.

Since then, Iggy’s cleaned up a bit, which should make shepherding him around a lot easier of a chore. And by all accounts it is, aside from the hilarious contract rider he has for gigs. For those that don’t know, a contract rider specifies the required amenities that should be in a performer’s dressing room; snacks, beverages, that sort of thing. Iggy’s is one of the most extensive in the industry, and although it’s almost certainly a joke, has specific requests for:

“Seven dwarves dressed up as those dwarves out of that film about the dwarves. You know the one. Cinderella?”

“Two cans of red bull. Something with testicles in it”

“Cauliflower/Broccoli, cut into individual florets and thrown immediately into the garbage. I fucking hate that.”

Awesome.

A Typical Day If You Were Iggy Pop’s Personal Assistant (Post-Drug Phase):

Concert Promoter: …You: Look, you know the way these rock stars are. They’ve got an image to live up to…Concert Promoter: …You: And I don’t have to tell you that there is nothing more rock and roll than, uh,… drinking testicles and wasting food in the company of a dwarf.

 

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The Beach House – Chapter 2

It was about four o’clock when I finished the final load a laundry. It being summer, I still had a good four hours of good beach time left. I grabbed a book, donned my swimming trunks, and headed to my lounger. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to research a self-adjusting umbrella. I began to adjust the umbrella and felt a sharp pain in my ankle as my foot dug into the sand. Something jabbed me hard right below where the ankle bone stuck out. I whipped my foot up and saw two small welts just above the heel. It didn’t look that serious although it was a bit sore. It must have been some glass or something in the sand. Just another thing trying to ruin my day.

I lay on the lounger and opened my book at the marker. It wasn’t a great book, but I had a rule about finishing every book I start. It even paid off one time with a fantastic ending that made the slog through the rest more than worthwhile. I flexed my leg and ankle a bit trying to shake off the noticeable discomfort from the sand bite. I figured I would be stuck with the pain till I was able to sleep it off tonight. I went back to my book.

An incessant uneven humming began to disturb my world. I looked up from the book and saw a boat breaking the waves not far off shore. It seemed too small for the ocean. Every time a wave went by, it pulled the small engine out of the water and it emitted a high pitched scream. Fucking idiots. They had a whole ocean to play in, and they picked my back yard. I went back to my book figuring they would pass in a moment. The engine got louder as I read.

I looked back up and saw the small craft heading toward my beach. It sounded like the throttle was opened all the way. I lost the grip on my book and it dropped closed. “Son of a bitch!” I said as I realized I would have to spend the next five minutes trying to find my place again. I was really beginning to dislike the captain of the annoying vessel. The boat wasn’t slowing and was still heading to my beach. If they thought they were landing here, they had better think again. I grabbed my phone in case I had to call the police.

The boat began veering off to the left toward the breakwater. The idiots should be able to see the rocks. That’s all I need is a smashed up boat to ruin my pristine view. “Hey, wake up!” I shouted and waived my arm. The boat kept coming and didn’t slow a bit. I screamed again, signaling with both arms, but the boat stayed to its course and slammed into the rocks. I heard wood give way when it hit and saw what looked like a naked body fly out toward the rocks.

I stood quickly from my chair. A little too quickly as my leg had seemed to go numb a bit. I moved toward the shore trying to work the sleep out of it yelling for whoever would listen. “Hey asshole! This is a private beach.” I received no response, but saw something bobbing close to shore. It looked like a body. Fuck, that’s all I need. Someone came all the way to my house to die. I moved quickly to water in hopes of forestalling a visit from the coroner. My arm didn’t really want to cooperate as numbness ran up my side and toward my neck. I moved quickly into the shallows and rolled what I now realized was a naked woman onto her back.

She sputtered a little water out of her mouth and looked up to me with hugely dilated eyes. “Should have just left me,” she said with a Spanish accent before she broke into laughter. Pissed, I grabbed her wrist and began pulling her lethargic body toward the sand with my good arm. Her head was oozing a bit of blood although it didn’t look too serious. Suddenly, pain forced me to my knees. Something was really wrong. I didn’t have any energy to stand back up. My whole chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I dropped her arm and remembered my phone. I picked the first number in my recent list and dialed Monica.

“Monica… Monica.” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t have enough air in my lungs. I realized I might be dying. A wave a fear ran through me. I wasn’t ready to go yet. I haven’t even finished the book.

“Fuck! You’re having a heart attack!” The woman sat up, and two rather attractive breasts bounced on her chest. She was failing miserably at trying to hold back laughter. My vision was drifting in and out which made the whole situation surreal. I fell backward, half in and half out of the water. She grabbed my phone before it got wet. “Mr. Private Beach needs a doctor.” She laughed into the phone and threw it over her shoulder into the water. The last thing I remember was her Spanish laughter as she straddled my stomach.

 

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How To Stop A Fight In Its Tracks (When You Accidentally Hit Your Spouse’s Trigger Point)

Know the signs and learn how to respond appropriately.

Communication is just about the most important thing in any long-term relationship or marriage, but so many people still struggle to do it successfully. Whether you’re fighting, discussing finances, or just having a conversation about where to eat for dinner, there’s never a time when good communication isn’t going to play a role.

And once you or your spouse’s emotional trigger points have been hit by something that was said, it can cause an emotional reaction that can cause your conversation to spiral out of control. Whether it’s you or them who’s been triggered, these situations can often explode into arguments with what feels like very little reason.

It’s easy to screw up and touch on an area that might hit a “raw spot” or be an emotional trigger for your partner.

Because we’re often inside of our own heads and not always paying attention when we communicate, we can cause problems by not thinking about what we say before we say it.

Our words can hit on emotional trigger points, raw spots or vulnerabilities that could hurt or offend someone we love — or our spouse’s words can hit on a traumatic issue of own our — and instead of realizing that it wasn’t an intentional attack, we become defensive or angry.

Simple conversations can blow up into arguments at the drop of a hat.

So how do we stop ourselves from not losing it over an unintentional verbal barb when we feel that pain caused by our emotional trigger point?

According to YourTango Experts therapist Jill Kahn and psychologist Stanley Tatkin, the problem is that our reactions to these issues are happening very, very quickly so that we might not even be aware of how we’re reacting until we’ve already done it.

The area of our brain associated with memory can react almost instantly when it’s triggered, so we’re momentarily not capable of pulling ourselves out of that response and thinking logically about what our partner’s intention was.

And, says Tatkin, it’s possible for that knee-jerk memory reaction to occur again and again if our partner doesn’t do something to rectify what they said or did to begin with.

And perhaps instead of realizing from your shocked expression that they messed up, they might press the issue by mistake, further compounding the situation.

Our emotional responses are incredibly fast — much faster than our thinking reactions, Jill Kahn points out, which can be exactly as problematic as it sounds.

In order to curtail this potentially catastrophic issue when it’s just happened, it’s important to take a step back before you respond to your partner.

Understand that the way you’re feeling is just a response to your previous trauma, and let your partner know — kindly — that you need a moment. You can explain to them that their words brought something out in you, and then take the time you need to compose yourself before talking to them about it.

And sitting down and explaining what your issue was can help make sure it’s avoided in the future. It can also let your partner know what they can do to help if something like that happens again, so things don’t get out of hand.

Communicating your needs and listening to your partner’s are so important! If you want more tips on how to keep a triggered memory from ruining your time with your significant other.

 

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A Unique Gift – Chapter 9

He took the collar and wrapped it round his neck. He had to fiddle with the clasp for a minute to get it to close but it snapped shut. Almost instantly he felt his mind change. He had an overwhelming desire to be submissive and serve Abby any way she wanted. All his previous reservations went and he knew he would happily do anything she asked.

“So? Is it working?” Abby asked.

“Yes mistress I can feel it,” Jack replied and Abby’s eyes went wide as she heard him say mistress.

“Very funny, how do I know it’s working?” Abby asked.

“I think that’s simple mistress, just command me to do something I wouldn’t normally do,” Jack answered.

“Ok first stop calling me mistress and second, let’s see… Strip naked and run down the street and back,” Abby grinned. She still didn’t believe the collar really worked and wanted to see how far Jack would go to trick her but she knew that he would never ever do that.

To her surprise Jack simply agreed and began undressing. She watched as he removed his tshirt. She still thought he was bluffing and would stop before he got completely naked. He kicked off his shoes and undid his pants. This was it, Abby thought, he’ll take off his pants and leave his boxers on but won’t go any further. To her shock Jack pulled his pants and boxers down and kicked them off, standing before Abby completely naked and unashamed he made his way to the front door.

“STOP!” Abby shouted and Jack froze. She couldn’t believe it, he was actually going to do it, the collar really did work! And now he was stood in front of her completely uncaring she was seeing him naked. She stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

“Abby?” Jack asked. She shook her head before bursting out laughing.

“Oh this is amazing. It actually works. How does it work? Who made it? This is incredible,” Abby burbled. Jack simply stood there, he was happy to wait as long as she wanted until she gave him something else to do.

“How does it feel?” Abby asked.

“It feels good, I just want to serve you however you like,” Jack replied.

“Ok this is weird. At least act like normal Jack please,” Abby commanded. Instantly Jack felt his mind return mostly back to normal. There was still a desire to serve Abby however she wanted but he was also more aware of his own normal feelings and desires. He also was aware of the fact he was naked and dashed for his clothes, pulling his boxers and pants on quickly.

“Christ you’re worse than me, put the collar on me and have me naked in less than a minute,” Jack complained.

“Sorry, I just didn’t think it would work. So how does it actually feel?” Abby asked again.

“It’s strange, since you said act like me I feel mostly normal just with this nagging in the back of my mind to do whatever you tell me,” Jack admitted.

“So if I told you to stand on one leg you would?” Abby asked.

“Yes,” Jack replied.

“Then why aren’t you?” Abby asked.

“You only asked if I would, you didn’t tell me to,” Jack answered.

“Ok, stand on one leg,” Abby ordered and Jack raised his left leg, balancing on his right. “Can you put it down?” She continued.

“No, not unless you tell me to,” Jack replied. He could feel the command in his brain. He knew that normally he wouldn’t want to stand on one leg and would want to put his right leg down but right now, as long as Abby wanted him to stay on one leg he wanted that as well.

“Ok you can put it down,” she told him and he did.

“This is odd,” Jack commented.

“Cook me breakfast, bacon and eggs,” Abby commanded.

“Sure,” Jack replied as he moved to the fridge. He cooked them both breakfast. He found since she had ordered him to be himself and hadn’t commanded him to not cook any for himself he was able to as he wanted some as well.

They sat and ate breakfast with Abby gushing over how amazing this collar was. She seemed as excited about it as Jack was. After they finished eating she ordered him to clean up, something she knew he would normally leave as long as possible and Jack found himself enjoying cleaning for once.

“So tell me, who have you used the collar so far?” Abby asked. “I mean you knew it worked so you must have tried it.”

“Miss Jameson,” Jack admitted. He had sworn not to tell anyone but he felt compelled to tell Abby and had no reservations about doing so.

“WHAT? How?” Abby asked.

“I asked her to try on the collar and she did,” Jack said simply.

“And what did you do?” Abby asked although she was fairly certain she could guess. Jack confirmed her suspicions of fucking her brains out. She knew Jack that it didn’t surprise her and she was actually a little jealous.

“Show me whatever photos or videos you took,” Abby commanded. She didn’t even have to ask if he had taken any, she knew full well he would have done. Jack left the room and returned with his camera a few moments later. He showed Abby the pictures of Miss Jameson naked and in various positions.

“Holy shit,” Abby muttered as she looked. She felt herself getting turned on looking the photos. Being bisexual she had been as excited as the guys had been when they first saw Miss Jameson but her horrible attitude and boring class had made Abby drop economics after the first year. She was extremely jealous of Jack right now.

“So tell me who else you plan on using this collar on and what you plan on doing,” she ordered.

 

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Why do good women end up alone?

https://va.topbuzz.com/s/MZesR

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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