Happy Halloween

The Cathedral Of The Redwoods

Photograph by Kilroy_60

If walking among the redwoods was all I needed before punching my ticket I could go today without objection. I've lived a charmed life and spending time in the cathedral of the redwoods was extraordinary.

It was four months ago that I made that assertion. I was in Humboldt County, California on The Last Road Trip with The Master Baiter, looking for an appropriate place to spread the ashes of a friend who'd committed suicide a few weeks earlier.

There have been periods in my life when I've been actively engaged as a photographer and other times when I could take it or leave it.

When I left Black Squirrel Run to go to Al's memorial service taking a camera didn't enter my mind. I never considered shooting photographs to be a burden until The Last Road Trip. Some days I shot more, some days I shot less and some days it wasn't something I'd ever consider.

Typically, on anything that qualifies as a normal day in my life, I could have easily spent hours shooting photographs in the Cathedral of the Redwoods. That day in June I shot a total of five, one when we put the camera on a tripod and set a timer, enabling me to have a photograph taken with The Master Baiter among the redwoods.

Last week The Master Baiter surprised me with a book, The Wild Trees {A Story of Passion and Daring} by Richard Preston.

Richard Preston is a gifted story teller and The Wild Trees is a masterpiece.

While I'm enjoying the book, it's also reawakened feelings I experienced during The Last Road Trip which are anything but comfortable. It's been a good reminder why I've had such a difficult time writing what will serve as a conclusion to the Last Road Trip series.

A few excerpts from The Wild Trees...

"Every year, as spring begins, birds arrive in a forest only after the insects hatch, because, before then, there is nothing for the birds to eat. The connections run through both space and time. Steve became sensitive to the movement of time in a forest. Time has a different quality in a forest, a different kind of flow. Time moves in circles, and events are linked, even if it's not obvious that they are linked. Events in a forest occur with precision in the flow of tree time, like the motions of an endless dance."
{page 12}

"In its first twenty years of life, a coast redwood can grow from a seed into a tree that's fifty feet tall. In its next thousand years, it grows faster, adding mass at an accelerating rate. A redwood can go from a seed to a big tree in about six hundred years. Around age eight hundred, which is the end of its youth, it may reach its maximum height--its thirty-something-story height. Redwoods are extremely shade-tolerant. They can survived in dark places, at the bottom of a forest, in the deep shade of their elders, where few other trees would survive. A small redwood living in deep shade hardly grows at all, but it doesn't die; it goes into a kind of suspended animaton. If it is hit by light, it grows with relentless speed."
(page 20}

"What is left of the virgin redwood forest is like a few fragments of stained glass from a rose window in a cathedral after the rest of the window has been smashed and swept away."
{page 36}

{Read the Last Road Trip series}

Great Bridges Of The World On Google Earth

No trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is complete without taking a drive that brings you into town over the Fort Pitt Bridge.

The view of downtown that you see upon exiting the tunnel, with Heinz Field and PNC Park off to the left, makes it, for me, one of the world's great bridges.

I couldn't think of a better subject to explore on Google Earth than the great bridges of the world. For my money that list would have to include...

Ponte Vecchio


The Ponte Vecchio, aka Old Bridge, is a Medieval bridge over the Arno River, in Florence, Italy, noted for still having shops built along it, as was once common.

Millau Viaduct


The Millau Viaduct is an enormous cable-stayed road-bridge that spans the valley of the river Tarn near Millau in southern France.

It is the tallest vehicular bridge in the world, with one mast's summit at 343 metres (1,125 ft) — slightly taller than the Eiffel Tower and only 38 m (125 ft) shorter than the Empire State Building. The viaduct is part of the A75-A71 autoroute axis from Paris to Montpellier.

Golden Gate Bridge


The Golden Gate Bridge is a suspension bridge spanning the Golden Gate, the opening of the San Francisco Bay into the Pacific Ocean.

As part of both U.S. Route 101 and California State Route 1, it connects the city of San Francisco on the northern tip of the San Francisco Peninsula to Marin County.

Erasmus Bridge


The Erasmusbrug, aka Erasmus Bridge, is a cable stayed bridge across the New Meuse river, linking the northern and southern halves of the city of Rotterdam, Netherlands.

The Erasmusbrug was designed by Ben van Berkel and completed in 1996. The 808 meter long bridge has a 139 meter-high asymmetrical pylon, earning the bridge its nickname of "The Swan".

The southern span of the bridge has a 89 meter long bascule bridge for ships that cannot pass under the bridge. The bascule bridge is the largest and heaviest in West Europe and has the largest panel of its type in the world.

San Diego-Coronado Bridge


The San Diego-Coronado Bridge is a "prestressed concrete/steel" girder bridge, crossing over San Diego Bay in the United States, linking San Diego, California with Coronado, California.

The 11,179-foot-long (3,407 m or 2.1 mi) bridge ascends from Coronado at a 4.67 percent grade before curving 80 degrees toward San Diego. The span reaches a maximum height of 200 feet (61m), allowing the U.S. Navy ships which operate out of the nearby Naval Station San Diego to pass underneath it.

Tsing Ma Bridge, Hong Kong


The Tsing Ma Bridge is a bridge in Hong Kong. It is the world's seventh-longest span suspension bridge. The bridge was named after two of the islands at its ends, namely Tsing Yi and Ma Wan . It has two decks and carries both road and rail traffic, which also makes it the largest suspension bridge of this type.

Tacoma Narrows Bridge


The Tacoma Narrows Bridge is a pair of mile-long suspension bridges in the U.S. state of Washington, which carry State Route 16 across the Tacoma Narrows between Tacoma and the Kitsap Peninsula.

Sydney Harbour Bridge


The Sydney Harbour Bridge is a steel arch bridge across Sydney Harbour that carries rail, vehicular and pedestrian traffic between the Sydney central business district and the North Shore.

The dramatic view of the bridge, the harbour, and the nearby Sydney Opera House is an iconic image of both Sydney and Australia. The bridge is locally nicknamed "The Coathanger" because of its arch-based design.

According to Guinness World Records, it is the world's widest long-span bridge and it is tallest steel arch bridge, measuring 134 metres (429.6 ft) from top to water level.

Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge


The Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge is a cable-stayed bridge across the Charles River in Boston, Massachusetts.

The bridge and connecting tunnel were built as part of the Big Dig, the largest highway construction project in the United States. Finished in 2003, the bridge's unique styling quickly became an icon for Boston.

Tower Bridge


Tower Bridge is a combined bascule and suspension bridge in London, England, over the River Thames. It is close to the Tower of London, which gives it its name.

The bridge consists of two towers which are tied together at the upper level by means of two horizontal walkways which are designed to withstand the horizontal forces exerted by the suspended sections of the bridge on the landward sides of the towers. The vertical component of the forces in the suspended sections and the vertical reactions of the two walkways are carried by the two robust towers.

Fort Pitt Bridge


The Fort Pitt Bridge is a steel, double decker bowstring arch bridge that spans the Monongahela River near its confluence with the Allegheny River in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

It is famous for being the "best way to enter an American city." Motorists traveling from the West on I-279 are given no visual cues regarding their nearness to downtown Pittsburgh as they enter the Fort Pitt Tunnels. Emerging from the portal, the Golden Triangle suddenly bursts into view framed by the yellow crossbracing of the bridge's arch.

Gateshead Millennium Bridge


The Gateshead Millennium Bridge is a pedestrian and cyclist tilt bridge spanning the River Tyne in England between Gateshead on the south bank, and the Quayside of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank.

The bridge is often referred to as the 'Winking Eye Bridge' due to its elliptical shape and its rotational movement.

I Miss Everyone That I Have Ever Known In The World

Photograph by Kilroy_60

"The acquaintances that pass through our lives are sometimes the ones who provide valuable insights that leave an impact."
-Kilroy_60

A Night In Patagonia

Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride

In 2006, according to freshcut.com, 335 million people visited more than 600 amusement parks in the United States. That, the site says, amounts to estimated revenues of $11.5 billion, a $4 billion increase over 1996.

Amusement Today magazine reported that there was an overall increase in amusement park attendance during the summer of 2008.

Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World, in Orlando, Florida, shown at the top of this post, ranked #1 in attendance with 17,063 visitors. Disneyland, in Anaheim, California, was second with attendance of 14,721,000.

I thought it would be interesting to see what the best amusement parks in the United States look like on Google Earth.

Having reviewed numerous articles addressing the issue of exactly which parks are best I concluded the list would have to include...

Kennywood Park, West Mifflin, Pennsylvania (Pittsburgh)


Disneyland, Anaheim, California


Cedar Point, Sandusky, Ohio


Knot's Berry Farm, Buena Park, California


Busch Gardens, Williamsburg, Virginia


Kings Island, Mason, Ohio (Cincinnati)


Hershey Park, Hershey, Pennsylvania


Legoland, Carlsbad, California


Epcot Center, Walt Disney World Resort, Orlando, Florida

The E*Trade Baby Is A Rock Star

796,000,000.

That's how many results you get when you do a Google search for E*Trade baby.

No doubt, it's the entertainment value of the commercials that draws in viewers. From there, repetition takes over to raise the brand's profile.



The spots premiered during Super Bowl XLII, in 2008. E*Trade ran two of the commercials late in the game, yet they ranked 13th and 14th in popularity among the 53 ads that were shown.

Check out the E*Trade baby commercials...

Shankapotomus



Bobo The Clown



Bad Girl



Barfing



Singing Baby



Much better, I'd say, than: So simple a caveman can do it.

Celebrity Homes On Google Earth

Search the web for home addresses of celebrities and the results range from aggravating dead ends to amazing finds.

If you want to plug in a name, ask for a home address and expect to get exactly what you're looking for I can tell you that's not going to happen in most cases.

Typically you have to do a bit of detective work, picking up a bits of information from different websites. Sometimes you'll find a picture of the property you're looking for, but, of course, what you see in the picture isn't likely to be what you see in Google Earth.

One interesting thing is that when you find the street address for some celebrity homes they aren't much to look at on Google Earth. Then there are cases where a number of celebrities live fairly close to each other and it's difficult to pick out one from another.

The best celebrity homes I found on Google Earth are...

Biltmore House, Ashville, North Carolina
(the largest privately owned home in the United States)


John Travolta, Ocala Florida
(Jumbolair, Greystone Airport)


Donald Trump, 515 N. County Road, Palm Beach, Florida
(Trump recently sold it for $100 million)


Michael Dell, Austin Texas


Mark Cuban, Preston Hollow, Dallas, Texas


Bill Gates, Medina, Washington
(overlooking Lake Washington)


Donald Trump, Palm Beach Florida
(Mar-A-Lago, 1100 S Ocean Boulevard)


Michael Jackson, Neverland Ranch, Santa Barbara County, California

Better Than Sex

It's always good to sit down with Dr. Gonzo for an interview.

This time the discussion centers on the book Better Than Sex: Confessions of a Political Junkie Trapped Like a Rat in Mr. Bill's Neighborhood.

Writing this book was as close as Hunter S. Thompson came to going back on the campaign trail, during a presidential election, as he did for Fear and Loathing On The Campaign Trail '72.

First, Doc, I think it would be beneficial if you'd explain what it means to be a political junkie.

"Not everybody is comfortable with the idea that politics is a guilty addiction. But it is. There are, and they are guilty and they do lie and cheat and steal---like all junkies. And when they get in a frenzy, they will sacrifice anything and anybody to feed their cruel and stupid habit, and there is no cure for it. That is addictive thinking. That is politics---especially in presidential campaigns. That is when the addicts seize the high ground. They care about nothing else. They are salmon, and they must spawn. They are addicts, and so am I. The fish hear their music and I hear mine. Politics is like the Guinea Worm. It sneaks into your body and grows like a cyst from within---until finally it gets so big and strong that it bursts straight through the skin, a horrible red worm with a head like a tiny cobra, snapping around in the air as it struggles to breathe."
- Hunter S. Thompson addicts (page 7)

The approach you've used to cover presidential election campaigns is not what people tend to think of when they hear the world journalism. What does journalism mean to you?

"There are a lot of ways to practice the art of journalism, and one of them is to use your art like a hammer to destroy the right people---who are always your enemies, for one reason or another, and who usually deserve to be crippled because they are wrong."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 16)

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail and Better Than Sex are separated by 30 years, what have you learned about politics over that time?

"Politics is a mean business, and when September rolls around in a presidential campaign, it gets mean on a level that is beyond most people's comprehension. The White House is the most powerful office in the world, and a lot of people will tell you nothing is over the line when it finally comes down to winning or losing the presidency of the United States. Nobody is safe and nothing is sacred when the stakes finally get that high. It is the ultimate fast lane, and the people still on their feet in September are usually the meanest of the mean. The last train out of any station will not be full of nice guys."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 105)

Why did you decide to write a book on the 1992 election?

"I knew I had no choice but to be a part of the 1992 election. Even though I realized it was not going to be much fun, win or lose---except briefly for the campaign staff of the lone survivor, who would be the next president of the United States and move, with his people, to the White House, where many would drown or be bashed to death on the dark reefs of the fast lane.

The only other sector of the electorate who would feel any joy on election night were the junkies like me, who understood in their hearts that the only real priority in 1992 was beating George Bush. Nothing else mattered."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 14)

You have written before about the end of the American Dream. Was there a similar theme you can point to when it comes to the 1992 election?

"SUBJECT: Welcome to the end of the American Century---Politics '92, bad wreck in the fast lane, bad news for fun-hogs...the treachery of Ross Perot, the sleaziness of George Bush and the end of the world as we know it...Welcome to Mr. Bill's Neighborhood: lay low, act dumb, and prepare for teh night of the whore hopper...."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 85)

"The younger generation" was more involved in 1968 than in 1992. Do you have any thoughts on that?

"No wonder the poor bastards from Generation X have lost their sense of humor about politics. Some things are not funny to the doomed, especially when they've just elected a President with no sense of humor at all. The joke is over when even victory is a downhill run into hardship, disappointment and a queasy sense of betrayal. If you can laugh in the face of these things, you are probably ready for a staff job with a serious presidential candidate."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 5)

How would you sum up the 1992 campaign?

"The 1992 presidential campaign was the slowest and lamest and least passionate 'struggle for the White House' that I'd ever seen or even heard about in my lifetime---it was dead on both ends. Neither one of the final candidates would have been allowed anywhere near the White House in better times. It was dumb on dumb: George Bush looked more and more like some kind of half-eaten placenta left behind at the birth of Ronald Reagan, and Bill Clinton's low-rent accidental fascist-style campaign made Jimmy Carter seem like Thomas Jefferson."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 226)

To truly understand the 1992 election, Doc, what do people need to know about George Bush?

"Look at George Bush. He is a monster and a fraud and a failure, and he has worked overtime to give politics a bad name. He is a mean-spirited wimp and a career bureaucrat who has arguably committed more high crimes and misdemeanors in and around the Oval Office than Richard Nixon would have been impeached for it if he hadn't resigned....Nixon was genetically dishonest and so is Bush. They both represent what Bobby Kennedy called, 'the dark underbelly of the American dream.'"
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 105)

While serving as Governor of the State of Arkansas Bill Clinton was well known as Slick Willie. What was your impression of Clinton?

"The only time I ever really believed Bill Clinton was when he said he could beat George Bush---which he did--- and that was all I cared about at the time. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, like the Arabs say---and if he happens to be a swine, so what? At least he is our swine. Even his own friends are choosing up sides."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 195)

No discussion of the '92 election would be complete without examining the Perot factor. How did you see the role of the Texas billionaire?

"Ross Perot was only the first of them---the New Age political predators---Perot is a greedy little dingbat with no balls at all, who was a charlatan from the very beginning. H. L. Mencken would have loved him. He is a monument to Mencken's dictum that says, 'Every third American devotes himself to improving and uplifting his fellow citizen, usually by force.' Ross Perot fits that description in spades, but so what? He is a tiny little ferret of a man with a genius for marketing gimmicks and an eerie basic resemblance to a man they called Adolf Hitler....

It made a lot of people nervous, and frankly, I was one of them.

It wasn't just Ross that was dangerous. It was the way he emerged out of nowhere and became a dark-horse favorite to win a three-way election and become the president of the United States. One day he was just another Dallas billionaire and the next he was the American dream."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 86)

It was personally important to you that Clinton beat Bush, why?

"As September rolled around I went into seclusion with my animals and began making plans to leave the country and move to Paraguay if George Bush got reelected. Some people called me paranoid, but their names were not on the U.S. Secret Service hot-list of known malcontents, addicts, drinkers and sworn political enemies with large weapons collections and erratic personal histories including (bogus) allegations of uttering public 'threats' on the life of the president or vice president.

Both in my case---but only because George Bush had been elected to both offices."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 125)

No single person was more associated with your career than Richard M. Nixon. What was it about him that caused you to add a chapter to the end of your book?

"The death of Richard Nixon in April, 1994 came just as this book was going to press and made it necessary to change the ending. No book about campaign junkies and politics addicts would be complete without including Richard Nixon. He was the ultimate campaign junkie, and his addiction to politics was total. Cheating and lying and stealing were all he really understood in life."
- Hunter S. Thompson (page 237)

The funeral of a former president is serious business in the United States. Was Nixon's funeral done in such a way that it fit him well?

"If the right people had been in charge of Nixon's funeral, his casket would have been launched into one of those open-sewage canals that empty into the ocean just south of Los Angeles. He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president. Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal. He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin.

These are harsh words for a man only recently canonized by President Clinton and my old friend George McGovern---but I have written worse things about Nixon, many times, and the record will show that I kicked him repeatedly long before he went down. I beat him like a mad dog with mange every time I got a chance, and I am proud of it. He was scum."
-Hunter S. Thompson (page 241)

Joanna Krupa Sizzles On Dancing With The Stars

Joanna Krupa, my pick to take this Mirrorball Trophy this season, did the Lambada with her partner Derke Hough on Dancing With The Stars this week...

The Secrets We Share

The Secrets We Share

Installment 1

Rebecca kicked off her high heeled sandals underneath the table. She leaned back, sipped her glass of Chardonay and surveyed the patio where various couples and small groups were sitting in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Rebecca had just completed a marathon day of shopping with two of her best friends at The Galleria, the most upscale mall in town. Having each gone their separate way after lunch, they agreed to meet back at this sweet little wine bar tucked away a block from the mall.

Rebecca felt drained; the full day of shopping wore her out. But she was pleased with her purchases. There was a pair of linen designer cropped pants that fit her like a glove, an Italian beaded and braided belt and a pair of Jimmy Choo's! Rebecca loved shoes; almost as much as she loved sex!

It did not take any thought to know Ali would be the first to arrive. She, the recently divorced 'uber-mom' who had been voted 'Most Slutty' by their group because of her revolving bedroom door of sex partners. "Damn," thought Rebecca. "Maybe I should divorce Eric. At least I would get more attention than I 've been getting lately."

Caroline would surely be last to arrive, thought Rebecca with slight irritation. She was the "bohemian" of the group. Her style was eclectic; a mix of the expensive with the cheap. If there was one thing that could be depended on, it was that Caroline would be late.

Rebecca secretly admired Caroline's artistic flair, though, and the way she drew men's eyes. While not a standard beauty, she walked as sex would if it had legs...sultry, sleek and purring. Caroline was tall, standing nearly six feet without heels. She wore her chestnut hair straight, just a bit past her shoulders, and she had stunning green eyes.

Rebecca sighed. "God," she thought. "It has been so long since I have been fucked long and hard all night. I want it." She was no slouch in the looks department herself. She was, in fact, a classic beauty in every way. Rebecca had an oval shaped face with large grey wide-set eyes. Her nose was straight and classic, a plastic surgeon's dream tapered down to perfect lips that were full and rosy in color. Her long, blond hair was perfectly cut in layers that framed her madonna like face. The highlights were golden, caramel and baby blond.

Rebecca kept herself well-maintained. She worked out with her personal trainer three times per week. There were regular manicures, pedicures and waxings. She was a sweet package; curvy full breasts set high, a tiny waist, softly curved hips and toned, muscular legs.

Yes, Rebecca felt confident about her looks as she awaited her friends. A couple of men had been eyeing her for the last ten minutes. Rebecca bet herself that it would take approximately five minutes more before they sent her over another glass of wine. Yes, she was right. She secretly smiled to herself. Just then Ali, beautiful china doll Ali, arrived.

"Rebecca!" Ali enthused. Ali was always enthusiastic. Well, except for that period in the depths of her divorce. But Ali had a cheerleader's temperament; outdoorsy, perky and always in motion. "Gawd....." Ali drawled in her deep south accent. "I could live at that mall and still not make it to every store!"

Ali ordered herself a glass of pinot grigio as she recounted her purchases to Rebecca: "I found the most wunderful pair of jeans. Have you heard of Joe's jeans? I tried on a pair of the 'Honey's' and they were absolutely perfect. They made my ass look like a piece of four-bidden fruit!"

Rebecca laughed. Ali always managed to light up a room. She had a head full of wild, dark brown curls. A light dusting of freckles across her upturned nose and big china blue eyes rimmed with thick lashes completed her doll-like perfection. She was petite at 5-2" but had all the right stuff in all the right places. Men were drawn to her laughter and warmth. Plus, from what Rebecca had gathered, Ali liked to fuck all night! Surprise, surprise, their sweet little Ali turning into such a slut.

Precisely at that moment Caroline appeared. Late as usual, gliding her way around the tables to Rebecca and Ali. "Hey girlfriends. Sorry I'm late. Got stuck in the dressing room," she said. Caroline had an engaging grin. "Hmmmm I wonder what she meant by that remark", thought Rebecca.

Rebecca then chastised herself silently, " Rebecca girl quit being such a bitch..." She just felt frustrated and restless. Eric had recently made partner and was rarely at home. If he was at home, he was reading through court briefs late into the night, often falling asleep on the leather sofa in the study. Rebecca was getting fed up with the lack of attention.

Caroline ordered herself a glass of Sonoma Mtn. red. It was her favorite. She kicked off her clogs and leaned her head back, enjoying the feeling of the sun basking on her skin. "Hmmm....nothing like a quickie in the dressing room and a glass of red wine to top it off", she thought. Caroline was rather circumspect about her little 'adventures.' She was a married woman and mother of three, afterall. And fairly content with her marriage. But Caroline had....cravings. Secret cravings that even her friends were not privy to. Caroline was always the one to turn a comment into an innuendo of the sexual sort. She liked fucking and felt very comfortable with her sensuality.

"So, girls, what have I missed?" Caroline asked. They each preceded to amuse one another with tales of their shopping day. There were invariably almost cat-fights while rifling through designer sales racks. Then there were te scary women, "The Stepford Wives" they called them. These were women who had had a little too much plastic surgery and it showed! They spoke of the bargains they had found and reveled in the splurges they had indulged in. Yes, indeed, it had been a fine day of shopping for this most unlikely grouping of three friends.

As Rebecca and Ali chattered on, each now on her third glass of wine, Caroline's mind drifted back to her afternoon 'misadventure.'

What her friends didn't know about Caroline was the "secret relationship" she was having with her computer. Caroline had recently taken up chatting and blogging. They were activities to fill some of her free time and alleviate boredom.

One day Caroline saw something in one of the chatrooms that she thought might be interesting. There hasn't been any interesting men messaging her so she decided to move on. She followed a link to a blog. The thing that that immediately caught her attention was not the content of this blog, but the extensive list of links. Being new to the blogosphere, Caroline was enthusiastic to explore.

As she clicked through from one site to another, Caroline stumbled upon a blog full of erotica, female erotica. Her first reaction was to click the first link she saw. Her face red with embarrassment. But something compelled her to return, and return and to return again.

Caroline got hooked on reading accounts of hot, dripping pussies being fucked and fucked and fucked. It wasn't long before she began masturbating regularly in front of her computer. One day, Caroline took the next step. She commented on one of the stores; one which had particularly aroused her.

This led to something Caroline didn't expect. When she next returned to the blog, she was curious if there were comments following the one she had written. She found a note from the "Mistress" of the blog responding to her comment. Caroline had been encouraged to continue responding. She was told that her feedback was appreciated. The "Mistress" also wanted to know how Caroline was 'feeling' when she read the erotica. As Caroline became more explicit in her comments, "My pussy is fucking red hot right now. I'm fingering it, tasting my sweet, salty juices....!" The "Mistress" praised and encouraged.

Soon, Caroline found herself in a private one-on-one email exchange with "The Mistress". At first the emails were just an extension of Caroline's commentaries. She wrote how hot she was feeling and how horny the stories made her.

Soon the "Mistress" began to challenge Caroline. She began to challenge her in unique ways. "Seduce your husband tonight, Caroline. Make him beg for it. Use him for your pleasure", the "Mistress" wrote. Caroline was incredibly aroused by the turn of events. In another message Caroline was told, "Tell him how horny you are. Let him know you've been reading porn online. Tell him those are the things you want him to do to you." Caroline began to look forward to the next message. She, in fact, wanted more from the "Mistress". Her pussy began to get wet when she would see there was a new email. "Seduce him. Ride him like he's never been ridden before! Then I want you to email me and tell me all about it. Every detail Caroline." Caroline's clit was throbbig now as she read, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO AS YOU ARE TOLD, CAROLINE!"

She was being directed by an unknown "Mistress" to act out her wildest fantasies. Caroline purrrrred like the cat she was. Now her "Mistress" had ramped up the stakes. She commanded Caroline to seduce a man while she was out shopping with her girlfriends. Her instructions were explicit. "Pick out your prey, Caroline. Show me how sexy you can be, how seductive. I want you to take him to a dressing room. I want you to fuck him like the hot, horny slut I know you to be. Don't give him any details about yourself. JUST USE HIM! When you are done, taste yourself. Taste the cum mixed with your own cum. Then tell me about it. I expect a full report by tomorrow morning, CAROLINE. DO IT!!"

Caroline had been incredibly aroused all morning as she shopped and scoped out her potential prey. Her pussy was slick with her juices. Her nipples hard in anticipation. Her stomach nervous with butterflies.

She had been browsing the men's department of her favorite upscale store looking for a shirt and tie for her husband. She usually tried to buy him a 'token' gift in hopes of off-setting his disapproval of her spending spree.

The cute sales assistant, Kurt, had been following her like a lost puppy from the moment she entered the area. "Can I be of any assistance m'am?" he asked with a broad smile. Caroline considered him for a moment; dark auburn hair, broad shoulders and hazel eyes. Yummm, but no.

Caroline had already set her sites on a more virile prey. A few feet away stood a gorgeous hunk of a man. Dark wavy hair, silvering slightly at the temples. He had chiseled features; a squared jaw, dimpled chin and sexy hazel eyes. He was beyond six feet tall, important considering Caroline's considerable height. He was dressed in khaki cargo shorts, a neat blue polo and Mephisto all terrain shoes. His legs were tan, lean and sinewy. His shoulders broad and his nails neat. Yes, this definitely was what Caroline was looking for. Exactly.

"Um, no. Thank you anyway Kurt. But I think I know what I'm looking for," Carolinesaid with her infamous grin. Disappointment flashing across his face, Kurt backed off looking for other customers to serve.

Now Caroline went to work. She sauntered over to the tie rack situated next to the table where the tall, handsome one was thumbing through shirts. Caroline knew what her assets were; her gorgeous green eyes, her long lean legs and her grin. She was wearing a knee length denim pencil skirt, embroidered down the seam with an asian motif. She had a tight fitting tee shirt on , white with a red chinese dragon spray painted on the front. Her left arm was aglow with her funky bangles; beaded bracelets from Guatemala, chinese jade and silver charm bracelets. She was wearing her favorite Jes MaHarry chunky ring on her right hand. She had a low slung braided belt draped around her hips, ending in tassels trailing down like an arrow pointed to her crotch. She had worn her cute, flower cut-out clogs - easy to step out of - to finish off the look.

Caroline sidled over to the table. "Um, do you see any size L in that dark hunter green?", she innocently asked him. He looked up into a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. "First mistake", Caroline thought smugly. His eyes traveled down the long, lean length of her taking in the considerable amount of leg she was showing. "Second mistake....come on baby go for number three," she thought. He looked back at her face framed by her chestnut colored hair that had the "I just got fucked" messy look that she had perfected. She widened her eyes innocently and drawled, "Or maybe an XL would fit you better." With that, she flashed him her wicked grin. Strike three. The gorgeous hunk on which she had set her sites was out and walking into the bull pen; Caroline's favorite place to play.

"Hi, my name is Gregory, Gregory Starck," he said with an answering smile of his own. "Hi Gregory Starck. I'm Caroline," she purred back. Her nerves were thrumming.

Caroline heard her Mistress's commands in her mind. She was incredibly aroused at the thought of fucking this stranger. Now to zero in on the kill. Caroline leaned over, brushing her hardened nipple against the back of Gregory's hand as she picked up the polo. She playfully held it up to him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders: "Hmmm. You're definitely an XL she smiled up at him, licking her lips. But I don't think the color is right for you."

Caroline deliberately wedged herself between Gregory and the display table. Spreading her long, lean legs slightly apart, she leaned over, doggie style in front of Gregory and reached as far as she could towards the back of the table. She had already spied the color she wanted in the correct size. This position was for Gregory's benefit....a taste of what was to come. Caroline held the position a fraction longer than was necessary. She felt Gregory's eyes travel down her ass and the incredible length of leg, noting the taunt calf muscles accentuated by the heels of her clogs.

Caroline turned and looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes were riveted on her legs, his hand very close to her left thigh - Lust was written all over her face. "Come on Lover," thought Caroline, "come to me, baby!"

Caroline whipped around holding the slate blue polo in her hands. As she began to saunter towards the fitting rooms, she looked back at Gregory over her shoulder and said with a mischievious grin, "Come on. Let's try it on. I believe this one will be just purrr-fect for you, Gregory." And like a magnet drawn to steel, Gregory followed Caroline to the fitting room. His mind focused only on one thing: ramming his steel-hard cock into this feline's red hot pussy while she wrapped those incredible legs around his waist.

Installment 2

"Caroline? Caroline? Anybody home in there?" Ali drawled.

While Ali and Rebecca had been lost in their own conversation about Molly, the missing fourth member of the group, Caroline had been staring dreamily off into space.

Ali narrowed her eyes. Caroline looked like a cat who had caught her mouse; and thoroughly enjoyed it! Caroline responded with a lazy, sarcastic smile, "Yes, Ali dahlin'?"

"We were talking about Molly. Have you spoken to her lately?" Caroline pondered the question for a moment.

Molly used to be a regular at their outings. She was fun and spunky with her rocker girl chic that included spikey hair, tattoos and piercings. {Caroline especially loved the belly button ring.} Molly had recently finalized a particularly vicious divorce; she'd had enough of pretending to be the suburban princess.

Molly took a stand and revealed what had always had been. While she loved men, she enjoyed the taste of women as well. This fact didn't faze Caroline. She had always suspected. But, Rebecca was shocked. She couldn't even look at Molly without blushing for a time. Ali, in her sweet cheerleader way, empathized with Molly. They soon became fast friends {birds of a feather}. This irritated Caroline who used to be Ali's confidante.

Ali, miffed by Caroline's tone and mood, turned to Rebecca saying, "It just doesn't feel right without Molly here. Maybe we should plan an evening out - the four of us - for dinner and drinks?" Rebecca agreed as they both turned to Caroline. "Sure, sounds good to me," said Caroline. Ali's freckled face flushed under Caroline's scrutiny. "Gawd, can that woman read minds..." she said ot herself

Ali felt like Caroline was reading her traitorous thoughts. She was finding it nearly impossible not to think of the time she'd shared with Molly the previous night.

While Ali perpetuated the myth that she had a revolving door of lovers since her divorce, the truth was that there were only a few men here and there. it was indeed Molly who had been her steady lover. Ali, raised a prim and proper southern girl, was somewhat mortified by her own daring behavior. Yet, secretly, she was pleased with herself. She bet she could even outshock the seductive Caroline with hers and Molly's sensuality.

Last night had been heavenly for Ali. Molly came to her home after the children had gone to bed. They were used to having Molly around. She brought Ali a bouquet of her favorite flowers, irises, and a bottle of wine. "Aunt Molly" also bought gifts for the children.

What Ali loved about Molly was her ability to build up the tension, the arousal. She was not like a man who bulldozed his way into the bedroom...fucking hard and fast...only to then roll over and fall off to sleep.

Molly began by rubbing Ali's tense shoulders. Slowly, her hands skimmed downward and around Ali's waist, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. Molly was sitting on the floor; she leaned up against the leather sofa with Ali in between her legs. Ali was her delicious southern peach. Molly slowly began circling Ali's nipples, pinching them lightly through her satin bra. Ali purrrrrred. Molly kissed Ali's shoulder and the tender juncture of her neck, nipping lightly. She whispered in Ali's ear, "Does this feel good, Ali?" Ali, with her eyes closed moaned softly, "Yesssssss. Oooooooh God, yesssssssss.

Molly expertly removed Ali's shirt and bra. She then turned her around and their legs wrapped around one another. Molly dipped her head and took each of Ali's beautiful nipples into her mouth, licking and sucking. Her hands continued to massage Ali's breasts,gently, and she rubbed her hard nipples. Ali's head hung back as she closed her eyes and softly moaned,"Molllllly, Molllly. Pleeeeeeease, donnnnnnn't stoppppppp."

Ali began to tenatively explore Molly. This is what really excited her. It was Ali's first lesbian lover. Touching Molly's firm breasts; sucking on her nipples; running her tongue down to Molly's flat, taunt belly with its piercing. Molly gasped. Ali was a quick learner and Molly was loving her student's response!

They stood up together. Bare chested, Ali and Molly wrapped their arms around one another and began kissing deeply. Their lips were soft and gentle. Their tongues darting playfully.

Ali grabbed Molly's hand and led her back to the bedroom. They both quickly skimmed out of their jeans and underwear. Molly was all muscle, lean hipped and big breasted. Compact. Ali was rounder, softer and lightly dusted with freckles.

They lay together on the silk down comforter, entwining their legs around one another, kissing and kissing. Lightly touching here and here and there, tension was growing incredibly with each passing second. Molly made the first move; she brushed her fingers against Ali's throbbing clit. Ali let out a sharp gasp. Molly began slowly stroking Ali's pussy. She circled the lips. Then lightly dipped a finger into her already flowing juices before returning to her clit to rub again.

Ali's parted her legs to provide Molly with full access to her wanting pussy. Molly lowered herself to taste Ali. She licked the throbbing clit and then ran her tongue around Ali's swollen pussy lips, tasting her peachy juices. Molly began to slowly fuck Ali with her fingers: first one, then two, then three. She increased the rythm as she continued to suck on Ali's clit; licking it in a firm but steady motion. Ali's head began to move from side to side. She moaned louder and louder, "Yes, Molly, yessssssss. Fuck me faster! Finger my wet pussy, Molly! Lick my clit. Faster Molly, faster! Molllllly!! Mollllllllyyyyyyy!!!" Molly expertly finger fucked Ali.

Just as she felt Ali begin to reach her orgasm, Molly withdrew her fingers. She reached up to wrap Ali in her arms. Molly kissed her deeply; sharing Ali's taste between them. "Not yet, my sweet Ali, not yet," she whispered. Ali, with lust glazed eyes, moaned and slid down Molly's smooth belly. She was kissing her lightly as she moved to Molly's hairless pussy. Now it was Ali's turn to taste what she thought to be a bit of heaven.

Installment 3

"Ali?," Rebecca said. "Ali?" she repeated. Then, emphatically, "Hello, Ali."

Ali flushed a deep red. She was the one now being reprimanded for allowing her thoughts to stray. Oh, but they were such delicious thoughts. Inwardly, she sighed. She was anxious to get home; she wanted to connect with Molly.

"Yes, Rebecca?" Ali responded. "I was asking,"Rebecca said, "if you want your glass refilled." She noted, "It appears we have some admirers over at the bar." All three women turned to look. Precisely at that moment, a group of five men raised their drinks in salute. "To beauty" they cried. The girls all giggled; it was a fitting end to a perfect day of shopping. Caroline half muttered, "They should have saluted, 'To beauty and sex'... That would have made it perfect." Rebecca rolled her eyes at Caroline and her endless sex talk. "God," she said to herself. "Doesn't that girl ever get enough?"

Their cute waiter, Tom, brought a bottle of wine...courtesy of: "The Gentlemen At The Bar." Caroline couldn't believe she hadn't seen him standing there; especially as cute as he was. She wasn't the only one to notice. Rebecca eyed him, thoughtfully.

Tom was a younger version of Rebecca's husband Eric, but a hell of a lot more attentive. He had wavy brown hair, on the longish side, with wide, ocean blue eyes and dimples to die for when he smiled. She particularly loved the dimple in his chin. He was approximately 6' even; with a runner's build – lean and muscular. She liked the tattoo that winked beneath the rolled back sleeve of his shirt.

It was clearly apparent that Tom liked Rebecca. He took extra care, when he filled her glass, to gaze directly in her eyes. He asked if there was anything else she needed. "Anything at all," he added. Rebecca favored him with a sensual smile. She lightly licked her beautiful, full lips before responding. "No, I'm good for now, Brad. But….thank you. Maybe later." He grinned back at her, eyes locked on her luscious mouth. "Anytime, just let me know," he said. Rebecca made a mental note.

Caroline, irritated by Brad's attentiveness to Rebecca, drawled in her ever so bitchy way, "Looks like someone needs to get laid, Rebecca darhlin'. And our cute little waiter is more than willing to oblige you." Ali gasped at Caroline's daring; she was taking it too far this time.

Before Ali could open her mouth to defend Rebecca, Rebecca replied, with a devilish grin. "Yes, well…it does appear that I have a number of choices tonight. Now doesn't it, Caroline." With that Rebecca swept her eyes to the men at the bar. And then, to a table behind Caroline. When she twisted around to see whom Rebecca was referring to, her mouth dropped open. There sat the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He was drop-dead hot; skin the color of ebony, a small diamond winking in his ear. He obviously was well….built and alone. Drinking a glass of wine while checking his blackberry, he appeared oblivious to their scrutiny. Except for the upturned corners of his mouth as he tried to suppress his smile. He was used to attention from women and their gasps of pleasure.

Caroline's eyes narrowed as she turned and appraised Rebecca, "I dare you," she said, knowing full well that Rebecca was the most 'sedate' member of their group. She was the one most likely to appear in control and proper at all times. Rebecca, privately irritated both at Caroline's dare and her own body's traitorous reaction to it - whispering in her ear, yes, yes, yes...fucking yes, gave Caroline a cool smile back. She said, "Go ahead on home Caroline; you and Ali. I think I'm going to sit and enjoy the cool evening...and another glass from my 'friends' before I go.

Caroline downed her wine and stood up; pissed at being dismissed. Who did she think she was anyway? Caroline hoped Rebecca did get fucked – royally fucked – soon! She was becoming a diva. "Come on Ali, I'll walk you to the car," said Caroline. Ali, confused, looked at both women. She stammered, Reb ec ca...are you sure you want to be alone?" Rebecca gently smiled at Ali, patting her hand. "Yes, sweetheart, go on home to those adorable children of yours. Eric is out of town again and I need some time alone...to think.

Rebecca lingered over her Chardonnay after Caroline and Ali left. One of the 'pack' at the bar broke away. He swaggered over to her table, then bent down apparently to pick something up from the floor. He placed a napkin on her table and said, "I believe you dropped this." Rebecca responded, coolly, "No I don't believe it's mine." The somewhat inebriated gentleman insisted, grinningly, "Yes, it is yours...see? " With that, he turned the napkin towards her. On it was written: You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. If you are free, I would love to have you for dinner. - Scott. Underneath the message, two phone numbers were scrawled. "Are you Scott?" asked Rebecca. "Yes," he replied with a wanting smile. Rebecca smiled warmly back at him. "I'm flattered Scott, really I am," she said. "You have been very generous this evening." She knew how much he wanted her as she continued. "I'm sorry; I'm unavailable," she said as she flashed him her diamond wedding band. Scott's face fell. "You can't blame a guy for trying," he said. "You are truly, beautiful." Rebecca looked into his eyes, "Thank you Scott. I mean it; especially for the wine. You have made my evening quite delicious," Rebecca replied generously. She understood that saving face in front of his friends meant everything to Scott at the moment.

Thank goodness that was over, thought Rebecca. Her mind instantly went back to Caroline's dare. Did she dare? She considered her possibilities. There was Tom, the cute waiter. He could probably fuck all night, like a bull. There was the stud with his blackberry; solo and obviously enjoying the show Scott just put on. Rebecca answered his raised eyebrow with a smile and a raised glass. He nodded at her, flashing a beautiful smile, but he made no move to join her.

Rebecca's thoughts then drifted to Robert de Villiers, the businessman she met last weekend at the charity ball. The handsome Cajun who had left her his business card...and an interesting proposal. The thoughts raced feverishly through her head. She felt dissatisfied and antsy. She was tired of her life; the endless rounds of charity events, throwing parties, lunches out, shopping sprees. As much as she hated to admit it, Caroline was right. Rebecca did need to get laid. Soon! God, she was so fucking horny. And just a bit piqued that the businessman in the corner had made no move, though he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Impatiently, with her clit swelling at her thoughts, her body betraying the 'Ice Princess,' Rebecca finished her wine and bent to round up her purchases. Immediately, hunky Tom was at her side. "May I help you to the car with your bags?" he asked. Rebecca shrugged, why not? With a full smile, she nodded to Mr. Blackberry at the next table, thanked again her 'admirers' at the bar and headed out to the parking lot with Tom. After she opened the hatch of her luxury SUV, Tom stowed all the bags in the back for her. He insisted on running around to open her car door. When Rebecca turned to thank him, Tom leaned in and quickly kissed Rebecca on the lips. "Whoa there, cowboy," Rebecca said, pushing against his chest with both her hands. "C'mon baby, " he said, clearly horny as hell. "You know you want it as much as I do. Rebecca mentally rolled her eyes; what a lame come – on. She was becoming increasingly tired of dealing with the egos of men who thought she should somehow be grateful for their attention! "Thanks, sweetie, but no thanks. You are a bit on the 'green' side for my tastes," she countered. Tom's face darkened in anger as he gripped her arm, pulling her towards him. Just at that moment, Mr. Blackberry appeared from behind her car. "Excuse me, is there a problem here m'am?" he said forcefully. Rebecca practically melted from the honeyed drawl of his m'am, not to mention with relief. She really did not want to have to break any nails slugging this kid. Tom immediately dropped his hands, stepping backwards. "Nah, man. I'm just helping the lady into her car." There was to be no doubt how Mr. Blackberry felt. "Well, man," he said, "it appears to me, that 'the lady' does not need any help. I think she would just like to leave – alone. Tom slunk away and Rebecca turned to thank her rescuer.

"Hello, I'm Marcus," he said, holding out his hand. "Rebecca," she said as she slipped her hand into his. There was instant electricity. Marcus held on to Rebecca's hand and asked, "Are you sure that you are all right? Do you want me to call someone?" For a moment, she was speechless. "No, no," Rebecca said. "I'm fine...and there is truly no one to call." Marcus looked her straight in the eye. "A pity," he said. "A fine woman such as yourself with no one to call." He pulled out his wallet and, without ever losing eye contact with Rebecca, pulled out a business card. Turning it over, Marcus wrote down his personal numbers. He handed it to her and said simply, "If you ever need someone to call." Then, he added, "If you ever need someone to talk to, Call me. I mean it" His smile was flashing brightly in his beautiful dark face. Rebecca felt her own smile answering his back. "Sure, ok. Thanks," she said. "I mean, Thank you. Really, for everything." {Oh, Goddd was she rattled. She began thinking about calling him, now...telling him about her needs...her need to be fucked royally by his huge black cock. Right now!)

"No, I'm serious. Call me, anytime, Rebecca," he said as he helped her into the car. "Anytime, Rebecca," he emphasized as he shut her door. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, she watched in the rear view mirror as he strolled back to the bar. She had a feeling that her 'honor' was going to be defended, quite well. She was almost tempted to go back and watch, just for the thrill of it.

"Damn, what an evening," Rebecca said to herself as she locked the car doors. She turned on her favorite classical music and reclined the seat. It was a feeble attempt to calm her jangling nerves...and her wet, hungry pussy. Rebecca's mind washed over the 'men' of the day: the overeager Brad; the hound dog-eyed Scott; Marcus, her hero; Eric, her husband and Robert de Villiers. They all wanting to be at her beck and call. Well, all except her husband who was growing increasingly distant from her.

As her mind wandered, so did Rebecca's hands. They went down over her curving breasts, feeling the hardening of her nipples through the silk of her blouse. She molded them with her hands, squeezing lightly. She let her hand sink downward. Rebecca slid her skirt up to her waist, revealing her slutty lingerie. Rebecca loved lingerie as much as she loved her shoes: the sexier, the racier, the better. It was her secret vice.

She allowed her fingers to circle her pussy's moistened lips, lightly touching her swollen clit, moaning in anticipation. She needed more. Pushing aside the cloth of her thong, she began to circle her tight asshole; then slipped her pinkie finger in. As she did, she gasped. Goddddd that felt so fucking gooddddddd! Rebecca proceeded to work her asshole with her small pinky finger. It was just enough penetration to torment her body, but not too much. She placed two fingers of her other hand in her mouth to wet them; then moved her hand down to her now soaking wet pussy. Sliding in, Rebecca began rotating her fingers to the hilt. She began rhythmically fucking her pussy and her ass. She was lowly and deliciously building up the pleasure as she fantasized about Marcus. His muscular body – black as obsidian – his thick cock filling her up to the hilt...thrusting his powerful hips into hers. "Oh fuck... fuck... fuck..." she thought. She was wanting him, wanting his cock in her sooooooo bad. Her pussy was creaming with the thought; her clit demanding attention. Rebecca held back, fucking her ass and pussy over and over and over. She bagan moaning loudly, "Marcus, oh Marcus. I need you. I need you, Marcus"

She was getting hungrier and hungrier for a royal fucking. Rebecca impatiently kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her blouse and opened her bra. With her gorgeous breasts exposed, she began twisting the nipples. She lifted her breasts to nibble and suck on each one. The pleasure was mounting inside her pussy. Unbidden, the face of Robert de Villiers entered her mind. She remembered how his gaze lingered often on her breasts. "Robert," she said, lost in her thoughts. "Robert," she repeated as her breathing grew heavier. She knew how he would love to suckle on her nipples. She thought of him rotating her breasts in his large hands, lifting and squeezing them. Thought of him biting her nipples. "Robert, mmmmmmmmm Oh, Robert," Rebecca could not remember when she had been this horny.

Her hands started flowing over her body – everywhere. She was squeezing her breats…. pinching her nipples... sliding into her pussy, fucking in and out, in and out... moving up to her clit. Rebecca gassspppppped at the intense wave of pleasure. The first shock wave to hit. Back to her tight ass, she plunged more fingers in deeper. Rebecca became a living breathing animal. She was groaning and began wildly moaning. She was wanting it , needing it. More and more, she needed to be fucked, sucked, licked, pounded by cock... by mouths... by hands... by teeth... Everything became a blur as Rebecca was being overcome by her needs. Her hand was rocking her clit... Her pussy was being fucked... As was her ass... Rebecca's orgasm mounted; her thoughts a mélange of men. All she could think of were men. Her mind was full of cock! She thought of sucking them... licking them... being fucked in the ass by them... having them plunging into her fucking pussy... She heard words being whispered in her ear. Hot bitch... Slut... Horny bitch... You want it, don't you. Tell me, how much do you want it? Rebecca begam screaming, "Yes! Yes! Yes! I want it now!! Oh, God, I need to be fucked now!!!" Moaning, with her head tossing, the car rocked from her desperate moves. Rebecca fucked herself with wild abandon; hitting all her pleasure spots until she felt her climax begin to peak. As much as she wanted to cum, Oh God, she was desperate, she didn't want to lose this feeling. Rebecca gasped and stopped for a minute. Her fingers were poised above her clit and pussy. She was enjoying every bit of that delicious feeling; hanging suspended over the edge. Then she plunged, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Fuckkkkkkkkkk meeeeeeeeee!! Oh God!!! Oh my God!!! I'm cummmmmminnnnnggggggggg!!!!" Her head was tossing wildly. With her hips bucking under her hands, moaning like a wild animal, Rebecca felt wave after delicious wave rock her body again and again and again. "Fuckkkkkkkk meeeeeeeee!! Fuckkkkkkk meeeeeeeeee!! Fuckkkkkkk meeeeeeeeeee!!" she was screaming.

At that very moment Rebecca's eyes flew opened. She locked gazes with Marcus, who had parked diagonally in front of her. His gaze was hungry, his mouth was open as his tongue licked his lips. Rebecca's face flooded with pleasure, with hunger and with some embarrassment at having been caught. It was a delicious sort of embarrassment, though, considering the animal-like way Marcus was watching her. It was as though she were his prey and he was going to pounce any minute. Rebecca slowly uprighted her seat, never breaking her gaze with Marcus. She slowly backed her car out of the parking slot. She continued to gently stroke her creamed pussy, watching Marcus and knowing that he would be jacking off for her at any second. She smiled in pleasure; now he would not stop thinking of her, wanting her. Not after that 'show'.

Rebecca proceeded to drive home. She had one hand on the wheel and the other working her pussy and clit. After masturbating in the parking lot, she was even hornier how. But, she needed more than her hand or any of the toys she had at home.

Later that evening, Rebecca sat alone, again, next to the fireplace. She mused on her day. The increasingly dissatisfaction with her life... her rapid orgasms... her 'conquest' of Marcus... Would she allow him to have more than she'd given him earlier in the day? In her hand sat both Marcus' and Robert's business cards, private cell phone numbers written on the backs.

Her husband was increasingly distant, unavailable to her and her passionate needs. He catered more and more to the demanding clients in his law practice. He was happy having her serve as a decoration on his arm at public affairs. Why, she wondered, did she feel the necessity to be more. Rebecca was definitely in the midst of some sort of crisis. It was reaching epidemic proportions. Which is why she was considering calling one of the two men. Or possibly both.

Mr. de Villiers had presented her an interesting proposal. One she was considering seriously. Tall, swarthy with curly black hair, silvering at the temples. He had stunning green eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. Lean and narrow hipped with beautifully manicured hands. "Mr. Robert de Villiers, sounds French," she had said. "Naw Leans" he had drawled in a mock Cajun accent. "I descend from generations of New Orleanians," he stated. He had spent the evening peppering her with questions regarding the organizing of the evening's event: Who was in charge (her of course); how long did it take to organize (one month from her carefully prepared list of volunteers); cost; complimenting her on the ambiance, the food, the entertainment and finally the auction items. (I can do this with my eyes closed, she thought...)

Robert, in turn, studied Rebecca and her expressions during their conversation. Her elegance had attracted him, her sophistication held him and her cool demeanor kept thim engaged. He approved of the slim, black dress she wore, her evident lean curves, the honey blond hair up swept in a french twist, the discreet diamond jewelry. And the ring on her left finger. He noted her eyes, how they widened, darkened, wondering what color would they turn in passion. He was confident that beneath the ice princess exterior, a scorching hot, lusty female lurked.

"Do you do this for a living?" he asked her. Rebecca responded with a half laugh, "I wish I did, for the money, considering the amount of time I put into it." In a slight, honeyed southern drawl, Robert responded, "I'm looking for a, partner. Someone to take over the organizing of events similar to these, but on a smaller, more intimate scale. I need a person who can take charge, make excellent choices and finalize decisions on her own. A person who will arrange small dinner parties for, say, ten people or so. Then, attend as well. Serving as my representative, a hostess." Rebecca's eyes narrowed at the word "hostess", but Robert disarmed her with a charmingly brilliant smile. "Sometimes, I select the wrong word; you would be like the master choreographer and we, the attendees, your willing dance partners." She laughed at his whimsical phrasing, enjoying his wit and charm. She agreed to consider the proposal, taking his card along with the $15,000 check he wrote to the children's charity. A profitable addition to her evening.

Rebecca sat in her club chair, studying Robert's number. Across town, she was the focus of his thoughts. Rocking back in his leather office chair, Robert was enjoying a lovely, petite brunette; yet it was Rebecca who filled his mind. As she teased, licked and sucked his thick cock, he absent-mindedly ran his hands through her hair, thinking of Rebecca made his cock swell even more. He thought of how she would look hot and horny, begging to be fucked, moaning and screaming as she came. Hwas is climax building swiftly as his dwelled upon that image of her. Then, grunting, he rocketed his thick wad onto the brunette's face, into her hair, all over her large tits. Yes, he thought in anticipation, Rebecca would do very nicely. She would be a beautiful addition to his 'organization.' With his cock swelling again, he shoved the brunette's face back into his crotch. Dreaming of Rebecca and his 'business partners; how dearly they would love to pay to watch the delicious Rebecca writhe and scream in front of them at 'their' intimate gatherings.

At that moment, Rebecca had a decision to make. She picked up her cell phone and dialed. She was truly excited about the possibilities that lay before her.

###

Thanks to my collaborators Horny Housewife and Mistress Regina. If you're interested in adding an installment to the story email it to me.