Chapter 13 – Lost and Found

Chapter 13 – Lost and Found

“Is that it?” you ask, turning in your saddle while pointing to the ditch. From my view I can’t see what you’re pointing at. I try to follow the line of your arm and see a small convex hump of snow in the otherwise concave shaped ditch.

“I….well….I think so?” I laugh at the ridiculousness. When I left the car I felt sure that the crash was quite tame, as far as crashes into a remote ditch in the dead of winter could be. As we come closer to the bump of snow it is apparent that it is at least a vehicle. The only piece of car that’s visible is the antenna popping out as a periscope above the rest of the drifted snow. “Wow did it really snow that much since I arrived?”

“No….actually no it didn’t.” you state dryly, “Looks like the snow drifted a little bit, but mostly you wedged yourself really deep inside. Come on, let’s be quick about this, it’s getting cold for Thunder and Lightning.” with the grace and perfection of years of practice you easily hope off Lightning and stand waiting for me. Swinging my leg over the side I lay my belly across the saddle and slowly ease myself down in an embarrassingly slow manner. If I was to be seeing this from your perspective no doubt it would be amusing. Eventually my toes made contact with the ground and I released the saddle. Thunder snorted and shook his back as if pleased to be rid of me. Standing up straight and fixing my pants I turn to you and see you desperately holding in a laugh. “that,” you say with mock tenderness, “was impressive.”

I shake my head and laugh at myself, “Shut up smart ass, lets go and see if there’s any car left there.” I finally have the opportunity to take the lead as you take the reins of both horses while walking behind me. The snow goes from a shallow three inches where the drift meets the shoulder, but one foot further and it drops to two feet deep. This I find out quickly as after my third step towards the antenna the snow is as deep as my legs. Turning to you I shrug and continue on, looking more like I’m swimming through the pillowy whiteness than stepping through it. After a few more slugging steps I reached the edge of my car and begin to dig it out with my hands. Five minutes later I’ve exposed the side of the vehicle confirming it’s definitely my car. I turn to you and give the thumbs up sign. You smile and nod but point to your wrist to indicate time is becoming short. Following the edge of the car around to the back I expose the trunk. Fishing through my pockets I find my keys and open the trunk to retrieve my single suitcase. After I retrieve it I slam the trunk closed and turn back to you, following my path back up to the side of the road. “Well,” I say momentarily out of breath from pushing through all the snow, “on the positive side, no one is going to steal it.”

You laugh at me and then motioned me over, “Come on, we’ve got to get going, they’re getting cold.” I watch you expertly mount Lightning and then I jump onto Thunder. I feel the process went smoother this time, but from the look on your face that judgement may have been misinformed clearly holding back another chuckle or two. “We’ve got to ride them a little quicker this time, we’re losing the light and the temperature is dipping.”

“Oh….ok” is all I can respond with. Quicker always looked so easy in the old spaghetti westerns I had grown up watching. The actors looked so smooth as their horses galloped below them. I hear you click your tongue and Lightning quickens her pace from a slow walk to a trot. Thunder soon follows without my encouragement. It’s in that moment I realize that a trot is far less comfortable than a walk, finding myself bouncing up and down uncontrollably with each pace of the large beast’s steps. “Jesus.” I happen to exclaim without thinking.

You turn in your saddle and then show me what I’m doing wrong. “No, you don’t want to just sit there.” you say directly, “feel how he’s moving below you?” I nod “Now instead of just sitting there, try to stand every second beat.” you show me by over emphasizing the sitting and standing motions. Taking your directions to heart I repeat the motion, bounce for one beat, up for the next. Down, bump, up, down, bump, up, down, bump, up. “Exactly!” you shout excitedly, “Keep doing that.”

“So” down, “Then” bump, “What else” up, “Happened” down, “in Par” bump, “Paris?” up…I manage to blurt out as I follow the rhythm of Thunder below me.


The day seemed to come too quickly as you woke in the morning in Celine’s bedroom. The sun was beaming through the frost covered window creating wonderful patterns of shadow and light much like the charcoal drawings that adorned Celine’s walls. You slowly opened your eyes and enjoyed the heat of a sunray that happened to fall across your eyeline. Without thinking you tightened your arms together and squeezed Celine in a bear like hug. “Shit” Celine yawned abruptly, “are you trying to kill me Al?” turning to face you while still within your hold. In your dazed state you nearly forget that you are both naked, that is until the unfamiliar but very pleasant feeling of her nipples hard against your own breasts re-acquainted you with your current state of dress. Celine, with sleep heavy on her eyelids smiles at you and then gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek, “Good morning my love. Shall we get up yet or should we sleep in longer?” The promise of further rest seems quite desirable but you are acutely aware of how little time you have this visit.

“No.” you respond curtly to Celine, “No I don’t want to waste my days in bed.” Celine raises her eyebrow and you adjust your statement, “Though this is quite nice to be honest.” and squeezing Celine once more in your arms.

“It’s ok, I know what you meant. We’re by ourselves right now though.” Celine explains

“Oh?” you reply, “where’s Leon?”

“He’s probably still on his jog.”


“Something he took up after his assistant lover Jeanne left.”

“Assistant lover?”

“Well she was both now wasn’t she?” Celine chuckled. “An awkward arrangement for sure. It could be a problem if you photograph women 90% of the time, and your lover is the one getting them coffee.”

“Oh, that is awkward.” you wince sitting up in bed and watching Celine slowly get dressed while holding the duvet modestly over your own nakedness.

“Well it seemed to work fine I think. Both of them had a good understanding you know?” Celine stops for a moment to slip on an oversized sweatshirt. “She was comfortable with him working with the models because she was always there when the models were here. She always knew what was going on.”

“So what made her leave then? If there was such a good understanding how did it fall apart?”

“It was the Michelle situation.” Celine admitted morosely. “Those stupid cops and their stupid insinuations.” she shook her head with disdain, then slipped on a pair of underwear from the recycled chest of drawers.

“What do you mean?” you inquired further, curious as to how the situation played out.

“Well, you see they didn’t really have any evidence to speak of. All they had was the one picture and that wasn’t enough to prove that Leon had done something wrong. Though he had taken a picture of a naked minor, she wasn’t in any overtly sexual pose or confirmed to be in a situation where she had been forced to do something she didn’t want to do. He was in hot water, but a decent lawyer would have had no problem in getting the charges dismissed. They were trying to push to get Jeanne to give evidence saying that Leon was taking advantage of Michelle.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to squeak out. Now sitting cross legged you were leaning forward, intent on every word of Celine’s story.

“So even though Michelle told them that nothing happened, and that she was laughing in the picture, they heard none of it. They kept on Jeanne. Pushed and pushed her. Kept trying to get her to say Leon was a bad guy. That Leon was always touching and taking advantage of his models. They even said how the models were better looking then Jeanne and how that Leon was a man, how could he not want them more than her.”


“I know!? How mean of them to say this? They kept on and on. This detective kept calling Jeanne at all hours. He would say that he had evidence of Leon being with other girls. Saying he was cheating on her all the time. How she was stupid and incompetent and that she let Leon get away with all of this. He’d call and say how it was her fault this all happened and that she needed to make it right by God.” Celine rolled her eyes and pointed to the sky in exasperation.

“So she left?”

“Of course she left. What else could she do? It broke Leon’s heart you see?” Celine shook her head while rummaging through her drawers again. She picked up another sweater and held it up to herself before tossing it to you. “Here, try this.” she said gently.

“Oh I have my own clothes Celine.” you replied politely.

“Yes I know, but you’d look cute in this.” she winked and you found yourself blushing as you looked the sweater over.

“Why not,” you thought and slipped the sweater over your head, and as you did asked, “So does she talk to Leon still?”

“At first they talked a little but it was hard.” Celine said, rummaging through her drawers before picking out a skirt and tossing it to you. Without arguing you slipped it on under the covers, you modesty more of a habit than out of concern for being exposed. “You of all people know how hard distance can be.” and you nodded in understanding. “At first it works, you can talk everyday. You can take some satisfaction in hearing their voice. You can think of their face, their smell, their touch, but memory starts to fade, and you get busy.” You nod again, thinking to yourself trying to keep in contact with Celine, Leon, and Michelle. At first it was easy but after the first month of university it became strained and difficult to keep up.

“Ya, it definitely gets hard….” you trail off in thought, realizing that you were in for the same painful process when you left for home in a few weeks.

“Yes so they didn’t talk as much and he began to get…oh what is it..” she paused for a moment staring at the ceiling for the word that escaped her briefly, “snippy?” you nod in approval and she continues. “Snippy yes this is it. He was snippy.” she says, a look on her face that indicated her annoyance with the memory. “He began to yell more, get frustrated more easily, he was a mess….and you know me.” Celine shrugged and you knew at once what she meant.

There was a reason that you had never met Celine’s parents. Her father was a brute and an alcoholic. Celine spent her formative years doing what no daughter should have to, taking care of her mom’s wounds. When her mom was too broken up to take another blow, Celine would deliberately provoke her father so as to make herself a target instead of her mom. It was a noble act, but it gave her a few marks of her own. When she was 16yrs old Celine arranged for her mom and her to get out of the house and take refuge with her friend from school. It was difficult for her to admit to her situation, but after years of having to explain away the bruises and missed classes Celine was thankful to accept his help. When the day came to take her mom away, however, she couldn’t get her mom to leave the house. Celine tried everything she could think of to coax her away, but her mom wouldn’t budge. In the end her mom stayed with her father and the two disowned her. She spent the next year with her friend and his parents before moving out on her own. It was this upbringing that developed the strong sense of self that you were so enamored by. It was this upbringing that did not allow for any abuse to be laid her way. So when Leon became snippy, you could only imagine Celine’s response, but it was certain that she would not remain quiet.

“I told him he was being an ass.” Celine laughed, slipping on a pair of combat boots. She looked adorable. You felt jealous of her lack of concern for appearances. She stood with her oversized sweatshirt, a pair of panties, and combat boots on and all you could think about how you could never have the guts to wear something so outlandish. “What?” Celine asked abruptly catching you staring. “You like?” she giggles bending over and putting her hand to her lips as if to mime “Ooops”.

The sweatshirt raised up and exposed her cute behind and you shook your head laughing. “Oh Celine you’re a riot.” Celine straightened up and raised her hands as if celebrating, again the sweatshirt exposed her panties and you continued to laugh. Slipping off the bed you found your suitcase and bent over to open it and pull out a pair of underwear. You were all for trying new things and new outfits, but you were not at the stage yet that you felt comfortable being free as a bird down below. As you bent to pick out a pair of panties Celine quickly came up behind you and slapped your exposed ass, “Ah!” you shouted in surprise more than in pain. The smack was louder than the sting would have suggested, “Celine!” you stood up quickly, your eyes wide and you attempted to maintain a straight face. You wagged your finger at her and bent over again to find your underwear. The moment you did, smack, another wild spank from Celine. This time you did not stand, you deepened your resolve to find the underwear you were searching for. Another spank, and another, “God damn it Celine you’re going to knock me over!” you laugh surprised at how the silly spanking was making other parts of your body buzz. Finally finding the pair of panties you were seeking you quickly stepped into them and stood abruptly. “I should tell you, Celine, you’re being an ass.” you chuckle and then rub your rear end briefly trying to ease the slight discomfort.

“Yes, I’m being an ass.” she replies, “but yours is better.”

“I…..well….I don’t know what to say about that.” you retort honestly.

“Well it’s true. Anyways let us get some breakfast. J’ai faim.” With that Celine turned and led you down the hall and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Once you reached the kitchen Celine found a note attached to the fridge.

“Je suis en courant. Prenez le petit déjeuner. Je vous verrai plus tard.”

“See. He’s running and will be back later. We’re on our own for breakfast.” Celine said waving the note at you. “Pain, confiture, café et son bien?” automatically switching to french.

“Jam and bread sounds just right.” you reply in english, a smile on your face.

Celine retrieved the appropriate tools for a small breakfast, pulling out a couple of plates, a couple of knives, some bread and a selection of jams. In between trips to the fridge she turned on the coffee machine and set it up to brew a few cups worth. She continued her story as if never interrupted, “After I told him he was being an ass, things changed.”

You stopped spreading raspberry jam on your bread for a moment to look up, “How so?” you ask then looked back to your bread and resumed the task at hand.

“See he forgot.” Celine said before taking a bite of her bread and nodding her head back and forth as if to say, “Not bad, not bad.”

“He forgot what?”

“He forgot that he wasn’t the only one that lost someone.” Celine said with a more reserved voice. “I….I lost Michelle, and he neglected to remember that.”

“Oh shit…he probably felt like an ass after that didn’t he.”

“He did.” Celine nodded in agreement, “Of course he loved Jeanne too, but he forgot about me and that’s why he felt so bad. You see,” Celine continued to explain, “because of her age, I was barred from contacting Michelle until either her parents said it was ok, or she was eighteen and could make her own judgements as an adult.” Celine stopped, and sighed. “You think her parents were going to let me talk to her? Of course not. The stupid people thought I made her leave them. They thought I tricked her into running away. They thought it was all my fault.” she shook her head in anger and frustration. “Fucking people! Don’t they know anything?” she yelled abruptly, startling you slightly. “Kid’s don’t run away from a perfect life, they run away from a shitty life!” she threw her bread down to her plate in disgust.

“So….” you begin softly, “….so why did she runway then?”

“Oh Al, it’s not good.” Celine shook her head, “I don’t know if she would want me to tell you.” in the corner of her eye a tear was beginning to develop, but before it could be released Celine wiped her eyes as if to scratch an itch. “But when they say, you can’t contact someone….they mean….anything. You know? Nothing! I couldn’t call, I couldn’t text, I couldn’t message, or even send a letter. If they found out I drove by and waved at her through the window I could go to jail. It was that bad.” Celine blinked and turned her head to grab the coffee, rubbing her eyes again as she turned so that you didn’t see her tears.

“You know what though Celine?” you say cooly and with a mischevious grin.

“What?” she replied, openingly sniffling now while holding her coffee in both hands, raising the mug up to her mouth for a small hesitant sip.

“The didn’t bar me from contacting her now did they?” you wink at Celine as the thought begins to translate. “I could write her a letter from me, and I could tell her all of the things you want to say to her. She could then reply to me, and I could send you a letter telling you all the things she wants to say to you.”

“Oh shit…..oh shit Al….oh my god Alcina that is brilliant!” she laughed, and you were somewhat shocked at her use of your full name. “Oh if you could do that then I would be in your debt forever my love.” Celine sniffled again, placing down the coffee mug and walking over to hug you as you sat.

“If we write her today, maybe it will even get there in time for Christmas?”

“Non….no…merd….non it’s too late for Christmas, but maybe before the New Year yes?” Celine’s eyes lit up as she thought of all the thing she wanted to say. To date she could only receive Michelle’s art, but she could never respond. She couldn’t even say a simple thank you. The torture of knowing Michelle was all alone with her parents, stuck in her old life, was nearly unbearable for Celine. “Ok, we write then tonight and we’ll send tomorrow morning ok?”

“That’s ok with me Celine, I’m happy to help.” you reply with a big smile on your face. There was no greater joy, you felt, than bringing happiness to those that need it. As strong and as brave as Celine outwardly appeared, she was just as any other person barred from expressing her love to her partner. She was imprisoned and powerless. You had now given her the opportunity to release all of the tension from her mind. You sipped on your coffee and marveled at the change in Celine. It was such a simple gesture that you were doing, but it meant the world to her. In truth you felt like you would do anything for her. Maybe this is why Michelle’s parents thought Celine was to blame. Maybe they saw in her what you saw, this incredible attraction and charisma that drew people to her. “You know, she was lucky to find you.” you say quietly to your french friend.

“You think so?” Celine replies, worry and doubt creeping into her voice and causing it to waver.

“I know so Celine. You make people around you better. You find the lost and you let them feel important. You make them feel wanted and needed. You did that for me.”

“I did?”

“More than you know…hun…more than you know.” as your words trail off you take Celine into your arms. Her petite frame disappearing into yours. A quiet sob escapes her mouth and she wraps her arms around you as well and there you both stood for a moment. In the quiet calm that only can come from love.


Truth #8

Are you fat, thin, average, athletic?

There was a tie between this question and what I like to see in a partner. Because last week was focused on what body part I like, I made the decision to move away from that topic area.

So, am I fat, thin, average, or athletic?

I’m curious as to what people would assume but the answer is simply average / athletic.

Obligatory Mirror Shot


Today’s erotic short is delayed. I’ve been swamped with work lately and didn’t actually spend the time working on one till just this morning. I’ve got the start of the story down, and should finish it in a few hours, but if you’re sitting on the edge of your seat aching for the dirty words I like to share, you’ll have to wait a little longer. 😉



Last night as I was drifting off to sleep I hung in that moment between consciousness and unconsciousness. It’s a state where reality and dreams intermingle and I find I get my best ideas in that small window of time. Last night was one of those inspirational eureka ideas.

Now I can’t share it because it’s the concept for a book / movie. I don’t know if has been done before but I think it’ll be awesome. It’s not of the genre that I’m writing now. There would be no overtly sexual escapades involved, but I envision instead a grand adventure, a coming of age, a robust and raucous time.

But first things first.

I have to finish this book, then I’ll move on to the next.



Chapter 12 – Riding or driving?

Chapter 12 – Riding or driving?

“That must have been nice to be able to pick up your friendship right where you left off.” I say picking up the second saddle and following you to the waiting horses.

“It was,” you admit, “it really was.” You place your saddle on the shelf and motion for me to do the same. “Celine and Leon were different. They were a different sort of person than the people I had a chance to meet while living here.” you motion your hands around to the barn, indicating the solitude of the country. I nod in understanding, though having never lived in such a remote area before. “I just….I just connected with them so much better than other people. Even when I was in school I just couldn’t talk to my classmates. They were so caught up in the silly pettiness it was irksome.” you shake your head, then take a bridle with bit in your hand and gently slip it over the horse’s large waiting head. I watch you intently and attempt to do the same but somehow manage to tangle the bridle. While you continue your story you masterfully slide the bridle off, untangle it, and slide it back on before my horse becomes irritated with my lack of skills. “The amount of times people were talking about makeup or some other celebrity gossip it was just so terribly tiring. When I was with Celine and Leon it felt….I don’t know…it felt like I was….”

“Living?” I offer.

“Yes! Exactly!” you exclaim. The horses ears prick up and they jolt their heads back with the sudden increase of volume. Instinctively we both caress their manes in a soothing manner to reassure them. You smile at me and nod, noting my technique. “Celine and Leon lived life. They didn’t waste it talking about other people’s lives, or the useless trimmings. They were more concerned with enjoying what we had while we had it.”

“I could have done well with that advice a few years ago.” I admit sullenly, thinking of my past relationship and work life.

“Everyone can. I have to remind myself everyday.” You say, sliding the saddle pad onto the your horse and motioning for me to do the same. “Actually, having you here reminds me of a promise to myself that I’ve been neglecting.”

“Oh?” I question, following your lead and lightly lowering the saddle onto my horse, doing my best to repeat the same techniques you are showing me. “How so?”

“I get…..stuck.” you say, cinching up the saddle.
“What do you mean?” I ask, cinching my saddle as you did.

“I get stuck in this pattern of life. If I don’t get reminded, I just repeat the same day over and over again. That’s not how I want to live my… that’s too loose.” you interupt yourself and cinch my saddle tighter. “If you have it that loose the saddle will slide sideways and you’ll end up on your head.” you laugh, and slap my shoulder. It’s odd for me to be taught how to do something that would ordinarily be considered a masculine activity by a woman that oozes femininity. Admiration and attraction are coursing through my body but I remain as neutral as possible. “What was I say?” you ask suddenly, jolting me from my train of thought.

“You…er…” I stop for a moment to think, “you were saying you get stuck, and you don’t want to be.”

“Yes, right. So when you come alone and crash your car and nearly die in my parents house it reminds me that life is fragile and I’ve got to spend my time living it, not just….”

“…..passing through it…” I finish your thought, as I have found myself thinking the same things for the last few months.

“Yes! That’s what

“You see Alcina, you are here again because you want to be the driver, not the passenger in your life.” Leon sips his wine thoughtfully. “When you are the passenger the view is great but you just sit there.” he places his glace gently on the table and continues, “but if you’re a passenger and you see something beautiful over there, you can’t say to turn that way. You can’t say you want to go here or go there. You just sit looking out the window.” Picking up a piece of bread he wags it at you. “If you’re the driver, you are in charge. You control where you go and you get to enjoy this life the way you want to.” He nods, happy with his argument and tears off a piece of bread with his mouth, the crumbs cascading down over his meal.

Celine shakes her head, “You’re such a messy eater Leon.” to which he just shrugs.

“I love my food. Love is messy. C’est la vie.” he laughs scooping up the crumbs that missed the entree and tossing them onto the bread plate.

“You know you still have to be careful though,” Celine says to Leon matronly, “You like to live and pretend there are no consequences but there are always consequences my oafish friend.” the thoughts of Michelle clearly on the forefront of her mind.

“Oafish!? Oafish?” Leon exclaims in mock pain, “How dare you Celine you little tart.” he laughs throwing his napkin in her direction only to have it fall into her soup.

“Oui, tu es une gaffe!” Celine says bursting into laughter as Leon retrieves his dripping napkin from Celine’s soup.

He shrugs, “But you love me anyways.” and Celine rolls her eyes and nods allowing the larger man to have this small victory. “So Alcina, tell me,” Leon turns abruptly to you, “why aren’t you staying longer this time?”

Placing your cutlery down and sighing you take a deep breath. You knew the question would come. You had even asked yourself the same question, though not really believing the conviction of your own answer, “because…” you stop seeing both Celine and Leon looking directly at you. “Oh stop looking at me like that!” you exclaim, “You already make it so hard for me to leave, do you have to look like lost puppies already?” laughing nervously. Celine and Leon look at each other and shrug, then look back at you, still waiting for your explanation. “Because….I’m still in school.” the words come out of your mouth and immediately feel poisonous. “I have to get back for the next semester. Plus my parents are expecting me to…” you stop mid sentence seeing Celine tilt her head to the side clearly not pleased.

“Al, you’re not going home for your parents.” she states dryly “You’re going home because you’re scared.” her words cut into you.

“But…I…no…’s not….” you stammer unable to come up with an immediate defence. “….I’m not scared. Why….scared? Why would I be scared?”

Leon seems completely unsurprised by this turn of events and looks at you with his piercing grey eyes. He pushes the hair out of his eyes and stares right through you, “You most certainly are scared.” he nods slowly. “You are scared to be the driver.”

“W….wha….huh?” you blubber. Not expecting to be attacked by both of them at once.

“It’s ok.” he continues, “It takes time. You’re scared now because you’ve never had to make the big decisions in your life.” Leon’s words run true and you feel a pang of panic shooting across your mind. Here you thought you were so independent and strong, but these two….were they right? Were you merely the passenger looking out the window. “This is part of waking up to life.” Leon says gently, taking a final gulp of his wine. “You have to break free of your family, free of your parents. You have to start out and be your own self.”

“Like Michelle.” you retort cooly, hurt by this attack on your strength and individualism.

Both Celine and Leon jerk involuntarily. Neither replies for a moment and you feel the sudden wash of guilt cross your mind, but still remain stoic trying not to give away your feelings. Celine opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. Leon looks over at Celine and clearly doesn’t want to say something. The table has become suddenly quite awkward and you can’t help but feel the blame. Celine then says in a hushed voice, “Michelle…..was…..different.” Leon nods, but does not add anything more to the conversation.

To everyone’s relief the waitress comes to the table and asks if anyone would like a coffee. Leon orders an espresso, as does Celine, and you order tea instead. Finally Leon breaks the silence, “So my dear, am I going to get you to show me your underwear again this time?”  The sudden abrupt change from sullen to ridiculous causes you to laugh and Celine to reach over and slap Leon on the shoulder. “What? Is this a bad question?” he asks pretending to be unaware of how inappropriate his questioning sounded.

“I don’t know.” you admit while laughing, “What’s in it for me?”

“Bah, nothing.” Leon scoffs. “I just like seeing you wearing little frilly things in my studio. He winks and you can feel yourself blushing. As strange as it was, Leon had expertly put you at ease when he was behind the camera. He had made you forget that he was a man. You did not question his motives. You did not worry about what he thought about how you looked. He was simply an artist and you were the paint on his brush. The sudden revelation that he found you attractive was a surprise. There was a pang of excitement that rushed from the center of your body outward, causing your fingers and toes to buzz.

“Well…..we’ll see.” is all you manage to reply. You caught yourself looking at Leon through this modified perspective now. When you first met him you definitely thought he was handsome. He wasn’t the type of man that you would see in some perfume advertisement. He was real. He was rugged and strong despite the delicate nature of his occupation as a photographer. Your eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders and stubbled chin. They were the epitome of manliness and you secretly wondered what it felt like to be in his arms.

Being from such a small community the number of viable men that were worthy of being boyfriend material was substantially low. This had resulted in you going through high school without ever being on a single date. Your classmates were a different story. They were constantly dating, though their definition of dating was slightly different than yours.

One of the pitfalls of being in a small community is that there isn’t a whole lot of fun things to do. As a result the number of teen pregnancies in your town was far above the norm when compared to the rest of the nation. You supposed that if the town had a movie theater perhaps more couples would go out and watch a movie instead of staying in their parents basement fornicating without a lick of protection.

When you arrived at university you felt like a fish out of water. The girls in your class were constantly talking about fucking this guy or that guy. It was depressing to you in some ways. Not because you felt jealous, but because you knew that they were so much more experienced than you were, and when the day finally came that you were going to lose your virginity, you felt that you would be horrible at it. You didn’t want to be so embarrassed, and as a result barely made eye contact with most of the boys in your classes.

The waitress leaned over and placed a cup of tea in front of you, jolting you back to the reality at hand. You absentmindedly pulled at the tea bag while you drifted away.

Leon then asked, “So what are you going to do in school? What is your plan for your life?”

“I……I don’t know” you admitted, taking a small sip of the hot tea, feeling the hot liquid run slowly down your throat and soothing your insides. “Right now I’m just in general arts. It’s a little of everything…but….I don’t really know what I want to do…at all.”

Leon smiles and nods having already experienced the same point in his own life, “You have to be open to it. You have to listen to your heart and know what will bring you happiness. Don’t listen to your friends, or your family, or anyone else.” he continues, “The people around you will tell you what they wish they did, or what they want for you. This is what they want. You need to know what you want.”

“But how do you figure that out Leon?”  you ask. “I feel like I’m just wandering through these classes for no reason.”

“Well right now you are,” Leon agrees, “but when you find what sparks your flame, you’ll know.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Bof! It was the worst for me.” Leon explains, his Parisian accent thick and his hands wave at the ceiling in aggravation. “It took me too long. I lost so much time.” He laments, the annoyance clear in his voice. “But that is how life is. You find your path, and when you find it, you know.”

“I understand. I just……I wish it was easier.”

“We all do.” Celine chimes in, “but if it was easy then it wouldn’t be rewarding.” she smiles and pats you on the arm.

Just then the waitress comes by and asks if there would be anything else for the trio. “Oh zut alors! Pardonnez-moi madame. J’ai oublié quelle heure il était.” Leon says quickly then turning to you, “They close early on Thursdays to prepare for the weekend meals. We should go now.” Leon throws down some euros and leads the way out not before helping Celine with her jacket. You smile to yourself and admire the two, wondering if there was perhaps more to their relationship then the obvious friendship. Wrapping your jacket tightly around yourself you follow Leon out onto the quiet street with Celine directly behind you. “Shall we?” Leon asks presenting his arms for his two lovely female friends. You and Celine place your arms within his and walk three abreast through the middle of the snow covered cobbled street making your way back to the warmth of the studio.

You walk ahead of me guiding your horse, “Lightning” while I guide, “Thunder”. The names were kitschy, but how often does someone name a pet without trying to be cute or cheesy in some fashion. Expertly you guide him to the barn door and he waits patiently as you open it for him, then follows you out. Thunder, on the other hand, was doing more of the leading with me, pulling his lead in a way that indicated I was definitely walking far too slowly. It had been a long time since the two of them were saddled at the same time. Most times you had to saddle one and then the other in turn. It was important that you kept each saddle worthy. Horses, much like people, need interaction and companionship. If they don’t get it, they tend to wander and get into trouble. “A tired horse is a healthy well behaved horse.” is what your father used to say. Thunder was his horse and was substantially bigger than the lighter coated Lightning. It didn’t take much for me to imagine your mother riding Lightning, seeing you quickly jump into the saddle without difficulty sitting upright with ease. I had to take a few stabs at it but eventually managed to throw myself up onto Thunder. He snorted his displeasure with my lack of ability, shaking his head up and down making it harder to grab the reins. Eventually I righted myself and followed you down the path through the pasture and on the way to find my car where I had left it in the ditch.

“How far is it?” you ask, turning your head to be sure I can hear you.

“I’m actually not sure.” I replied honestly, “by the time I got to your place I wasn’t entirely sure where I was.” I chuckled at the stupidity but inwardly realized how close I came to an untimely end.

“Well we’ll head up this way and keep an eye out. It’s a little more milder today anyways.” Milder for this area of Canada was a matter of subjective interpretation. Milder than it was the previous days meant it was still -17 celsius. If you were tell someone from Virginia that this was mild, they would likely think you were off your rocker. Of course if you told someone in the arctic that -17C was mild they’d also laugh thinking about how downright balmy it was. “If we don’t find it after 15 minutes though we’ll have to turn around.” you finish.

“Ok.” I reply dutifully while attempting to maintain control over the big beast below me. Thunder is clearly used to leading not following and despite my efforts he has accelerated to now trot next to Lightning. Without any direction from me he adjusts his pace perfectly in time with his companion and as such you and I are riding side by side through the cold of this “mild” day. “I imagine it was warmer in Paris then it was here.” I chuckle, hoping my statement provokes you to divulge more of your story.

“It definitely was warmer.” you reply, your voice trailing off as your mind wanders back to that time again.


Once you reached Leon’s studio the long flight and large meal started to take their toll. You felt the tiredness creep through your body and despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but yawn. Leon reached over and hugged you with one arm, then Celine took you by the hand and started to lead you up the stairs to her room. “Did you want to have a shower before bed?” Celine asked politely.

You mulled it over in your head for a moment. There are those times when nothing is more soothing than a nice hot shower. Having the warmth cascade down your body and tantalizing each square inch of skin it slowly runs down. This was one of those moments, however, where the thought of getting wet was unappetizing. You thought of the cold bathroom tiles. The feeling of cool air hitting your moistened skin. The uncomfortable moment between getting naked and standing in a cold tub before the shower warms up. The look on your face gave away your displeasure with the thought, but considering the number of hours you’ve been cooped up in airports, airplanes, buses, and trains, a shower was a protocol that you couldn’t ignore. “I guess so?” not truly answering in the affirmative.

Celine chuckled at your reticence, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” continuing down to the end of the hall where the bathroom waited. Once there she reached behind the shower curtain and fiddle with the knobs getting them in the only position that allowed any hot water to flow. As the building was quite old, some of the facilities were a bit finicky. Celine motioned you into the bathroom as you still stood on the threshold. Partly because you didn’t want to interrupt Celine as she prepped the shower for you, but mostly because the checkered white and black tile clearly looked as if it was going to be quite chilly. You stepped into the bathroom and Celine shut the door behind you, much to your surprise. Once the door was shut she began to take her clothes off in front of you. A smirk came across your face as you had forgotten how comfortable Celine was with sharing her nakedness. You looked her over unconsciously, admiring her trim petite figure. As she bent over to slip off her panties her hair draped over her face but was exposed her neckline. You noticed for the first time a small black tattoo at her hairline. It was the same heart shaped “M” as was in Michelle’s drawings. You smiled and simultaneously felt jealous and saddened for Celine and Michelle. “Hurry up!” Celine said looking at you with a small frown, “the hot water doesn’t last long. That’s why we’re showing together.”

You snap back to reality, “Oh….I….uh…never mind.” you muttered trying to overcome your natural shyness and slowly unbuttoning your blouse.

“Oh Al you silly girl hurry up.” Celine laughs and stands in front of you now, naked as the day she was born, beautiful and tough as ever, she helps you unbutton your blouse and you stand with your hands at your sides not sure exactly what is happening. She slips off the blouse and then unbuttons your jeans, roughly unzipping them and then yanking them down to your ankles. Slowly you begin to assist her and unsnap your bra from behind, slipping it slowly off, then slower still slip your panties off and step out of the pile of your clothes collected at the floor. “Come on, we have at most five minutes now!” the urgency in her voice a clear response to have been caught in the shower when the hot runs cold.

Without thinking you blindly follow her into the shower, the hot jet of water blasting off her body and cascading over yours. She quickly begins to soap up her body and tosses you the shampoo. You catch the feeling of urgency and speedily dump a glob of shampoo onto your hand and then start to work it into your long drenched hair. Closing your eyes to avoid getting soap in them you continue to stand in place as you work the shampoo into a frothy lather. A moment later you feel the soft delicate hands of Celine on your neck, then running down your chest, over your breasts, to your waist, your hips, your legs. You stand in shock. Her hands expertly move over your exposed body ensuring that soap has reached every area she can touch. The feeling is both exciting and scary. You were not expecting to be touched, and even though you’ve spent countless hours with Celine this was the first time that you had been so exposed. The tenderness and care was evident in her manner. As much as it was purely utilitarian to save the hot water, it felt like it was more than that. Then with little warning she grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, soaping up your back, your legs, then your ass, and back to your neck and arms. “Two minutes” you heard her say and you sped up your hand movement. “Rinse.” she commanded and you exchanged positions with her, coming closer to the water. The jet of hot water hammered into your skull with more force than you were accustomed to, but it simultaneously massaged the skin it came into contact with, sending a nice shiver through your body.

Once you felt enough shampoo had been rinsed from your hair you opened your eyes and pushed your hair away from your face. You were greeted by the smile and stare of Celine. She was looking you over from head to toe and while you couldn’t tell if it was to ascertain if you had properly rinsed or not, the look she gave seemed distinctly predatory. “One minute” she said quietly her eyes still on you as she finished rinsing herself. “I almost forgot how sexy you were.” she finally said. “Almost.” she chuckled and you smiled to. Then your smile vanished as the hot water disappeared and was replaced with a jet of cold water. “Merd!” Celine shouted, “Get out! Get out! Hurry!” she bellowed as she laughed. You practically leapt out of the shower landing on the piles of clothes waiting for you on the cold tile floor. Celine launched herself out immediately after, running into you with a wet smack. Instinctively you caught her smaller frame in your arms and righted her. She smiled and kissed you on lips in what you were assuming was an act of thankfulness. She then separated her nakedness from yours and reached back into the shower to turn off the now ice cold water.

While she’s turned you quickly snag a towel from the rack and cover yourself, not out of modesty but for warmth. Celine turns back, shivering and laughing grabbing a towel for herself and wrapping it tightly around her slickened body. “See?” she says, “Five minutes. No more.” Stopping her, “I told you so” moment for a spell she shakes the water out of her ears and then continues, “It will take all of another hour before it’s hot for another five minutes.” Moving the towel from her body she bends at the waist and drapes it over her head, patting down her hair and rubbing her head.

“That’s crazy!” you exclaim, doing the same. Your hair is twice as long as Celine’s, however, and the prospect of sleeping with wet hair is an unpleasant thought. Vigorously you dry your hair in a desperate attempt to get warm once more. You stop for a moment when a thought crosses your mind, “But how do you and Leon get ready in the morning then?” twisting the towel around your hair and flipping back over your head as you stand. You now look directly at Celine as she stops rubbing her head and lowers the towel to her neck. She smiles and you know the answer at once, “No!” you bellow. Celine giggles and nods, “No!” you shout again, “Leon?”

“We are being eco conscious.” Celine states dryly, tossing the towel onto the rack to dry.

“But Leon?” you question, no longer out of incredulity but mild nagging jealousy. He was a handsome man. The sum total of moderately average parts combined into a rough but artistic frenchman with dark wavy hair and piercing grey eyes. You tried to picture what he would look naked, with water running down his body.

“But of course,” Celine retorted, “he’s looks good all wet and soapy.” she giggles to herself sweeping up her pile of clothes into her arms and moving to the bathroom door. “Coming?” she asks politely before opening the door wide.

“Whoops.” Leon says startled to see his two naked companions coming out of the bathroom freshly cleaned. Wheeling on his heel he chuckles, “Celine, a little warning next time yes?”

“Oh Leon, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Celine laughs, spanking his blue jean covered ass roughly before turning into her room.

Quickly you pick up all of your clothes and dash through the hallway to Celine’s room, the door shutting with a smack behind you. Stopping for a moment to catch your breath you look at Celine with daggers in your eyes, “Celine!” you exclaim and then burst out in a fit of nervous giggles.

“Bonne nuit mes chéris belles.” Leon says as he makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Bonne nuit!” you yell, far too loudly, but the excitement of the previous five minutes has caused your previously sleepiness to evaporate.

Celine laughs and chimes in, “Bonne nuit mon magicien talentueux languetés.” smirking at your look of confusion. The parisian accent was smooth and silky but far too quick for you to pick up on your first day back in France. What you heard, or at least thought you heard begged further questions of Celine.

“Bonne nuit mon palourdes savoureux.” came the response from Leon.

You looked at Celine with eyes full of questions, but she just smiled and motioned for you to jump into the bed with her. As usual, she was completely naked and despite the inhibitions screaming in your head to do otherwise, you joined her in bed, naked as well.

This was your first time sharing a bed with someone since you were very young and sharing a bed with your sister. Unaccustomed to the protocol or unsure if there was one, you turned your back to Celine and curled up in a comfortable fetal position. You lay there in silence thinking on where you were and what you were doing here. You were in Paris again. The city of love. The city for lovers. The snow had stopped falling, the wind had slowed, and the studio was quiet. You couldn’t hear a single car, any buses, people on the streets, or barking dogs. It was serenely silent as a funeral home. Turning to your back you stared at the ceiling of Celine’s room. There was more art pinned there that you hadn’t noticed before. More charcoal drawings, these of Celine and Michelle arm in arm and one of Celine holding Michelle tightly almost motherly. They were beautiful and raw. You thought it must be so hard for her to have all of these reminders of Michelle and not being able to hold her in her arms, to feel her close, to share her space and her heart. A pain radiated through your throat and you felt yourself begin to cry. Turning to Celine who was also on her side, you wrapped your arms around her exposed body and pulled her tight to yours. Celine bent her head down and kissed your arm, thankful for the warmth both physical and emotional. You closed your eyes and slowly drifted off into a deep peaceful sleep.

I need a muse…

Without someone to write for, without someone to pine over, without someone to desire, I’m left in this creative void.

I find that I need that tease. That anxious desire to please. That ache and craving that pushes my creativity. The absence of such a catalyst causes my mind to stagnate.

I need a muse….

From the Unknown

….and I’m taking applications.

Truth #7

What part of the female body is your favorite?


I have several favorite parts of the female body. I definitely love looking into a woman’s eyes and seeing what’s stirring underneath. I love a sexy smile and the softness of a woman’s lips. I love the fragrance of a woman and the natural intoxicating musk that’s exuded when she’s excited. But if I was to pick a favorite of all favorites it has to be…..the ass.


I love the way it’s curved. The way it feels in my hand. To grip and grope a healthy sized female ass is such a delight. When I hug a woman I have to fight the urge to let my hands wander past her waist and onto those beautiful cheeks. I love the sound an ass makes when it’s playfully spanked. I love the way it moves and bounces slightly when a woman walks in front of me.

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The recent trend of women wearing yoga pants everywhere has been a boon for me. Seeing so many delicious booties and sexy legs is intoxicating. I want to admire each one and thank the owner for sharing their gorgeous behind.

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No Story today

I’m off schedule today. Ordinarily Friday would be my day to post a short story, or some other creative writing different from the novel I’m working on. Since I put more effort into the three part Valentine’s day episode I’ve got nothing to add today.


So instead…here’s a rhyme..


Roses are red

Violets are blue

Edible underwear is fun

but I’d rather eat you 😉


See everyone next week.




#Vday ….the real Valentine’s Day

#Vday ….the real Valentine’s Day

V-day for me will forever be Victory Day. Victory Day marks the end of World War II in Europe, specifically the capitulation of Nazi forces to the Allies.  That day, war ceased in Europe. Without which my grandparents wouldn’t have found each other. Without which my father would never have been conceived, and which of course without which I would have never been conceived.

V-day is more important, more significant, and a greater icon for love than any Valentine’s day sonnet could ever be. It marked the end of the bloodiest war in human history. A war that saw atrocities on an immeasurable scale. Where young men and women were willing to give their lives for the price of freedom in countries they’ve never seen for people they’ve never met. What an act of love is this. What piece of chocolate or fragrant flower could ever compare.


Valentine’s Day is an ill conceived notion where couples, or non-couples are guilt-ed into professing or acting out displays of so called affection. To those that have reverence for this stupid “holiday” I would ask you if your significant other truly loved you. For if they did there would not have to be a specific day on which they felt the obligation to publicly pronounce it.

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Truest love is never boiled down to a single gift, or a single act, but is revealed through many meaningful gestures through the bright and the bitter times.

Chapter 11 – I see London I see France….

Chapter 11 – I see London I see France….

The first day of getting to know someone is always the most fascinating. They peel back the covers and reveal little by little the inner workings of who they are. Its like a burlesque feather dance. Slow, sensual, and stimulating. As you told me about your time in Paris I found myself wanting to know what happened next. What would the next revelation be. Where will the story go from there. What is the path you took to get you from where you were to where you are. Then you turn the tables and I share my own story. The exposing of my own secrets and truths. Exciting and thrilling in it’s own way. How will you react to my saga. How will you react to my past, my actions, what I say and have done. Will you smile, will you be sympathetic or be bored. The nervousness and butterflies scare me but it’s been so long since I’ve felt them I can’t help but want a little more.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, interrupting my introspective train of thought.

“Well you hadn’t finished telling me about when you went back to Paris.”

“Oh,” you respond quietly, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share that yet.” Intrigued, but cautious I stay silent, not wanting to push the boundaries just yet. “It’s not that it’s bad.” you continue, “it’s just…..personal.”

“I see.” I respond. Which seems to be our common response to our little revelations. I’m definitely curious as to what happened though. The first story of Paris seemed quite personal. How could this return be even more so? “Well I’d love to hear it whenever you’re ready to share.”

“Thanks.” you reply. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You eyes drift off for a moment and an almost imperceptible smirk crosses your face then vanishes again. “Let’s get something to eat.” you say and immediately stand and walk to the kitchen. I follow you again, and just as last time, admire your cute ass in the tight jeans.

We go about the process of making a small but tasty lunch. Working in the kitchen with you is surprisingly easy. It’s as if we are in a unique culinary dance. Passing behind one another seamlessly. Handing a pan over just as you need it. Supplying ingredients just before you request them. It’s an odd feeling to be unconsciously connected so easily. You feel it as well and can’t help but smile. Your eyes reveal how much you’re enjoying my company. You’ve made meals by yourself for what seems like ages. It’s a treat to be able to cook for a man. To cook with a man. No worries. No expectations. Just enjoying the moment, the tastes, the aroma, the sounds of food sizzling in the pan. Before long the moment is over, and the meal is completed. We sit down at the table together. This time with far more clothes than last time. After serving each other we sit silently looking into each others eyes. A smile on both of our faces. There is more to this than simple company, and we can both feel it. I take a bite and savor the joining of our culinary coupling. You smile and then say, “So when I went back to Paris….”
Continue reading “Chapter 11 – I see London I see France….”