Changes VI

I turned my head sideways, only allowing my eyes to peek out from my hiding post.

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This was a motley crew of dirty, filthy men. They looked like hardened criminals and exemplary citizens of the underworld. I waited until the parade of golf carts passed me by at a leisurely pace, before I left the safety of my hiding post to investigate where they were heading to.

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They parked right in the middle of Main Street, without any regard for orderly parking. They stopped in front of a pool hall. I counted fifteen carts with two or three passengers on each cart. They looked egregiously out of place riding on those carts going at fifteen miles per hour.
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I doubted I would find anything edible inside the trash bin. I made haste to find something to eat. I retreated my steps through the alley, to the back streets.

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Surveying the territory, I saw there was the option of a Wal Mart four blocks down, or a mall in the opposite direction. I decided to venture into the Wal Mart, to check if it would be easier to get in there, then in the mall.

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I found the main doors to be blocked by a Wal Mart trailer bed. I circled the massive building to the receiving docks, to see if I had better luck there. The entries were sealed shut.
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I was feeling light headed by now, and very weak due to hunger and thirst.

I decided to inspect the front entrance once again, to see if there was any way possible way in. The mall and other places seemed interminably far away from where I stood, I was too lazy to venture there just yet.

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At the main entrance, I crawled under the trailer bed to the other side, and found the doors to be covered by several wood panels. This was disheartening, as my reservoirs of strength were dwindling. I attempted to force one of the wood panels loose. I was relieved to find the last one to easily yield. Behind this panel, the glass door was broken. It seemed someone had beaten me to this place.
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The massive sky lights allowed the late afternoon light to filter and illuminate the cavernous store. The place was eerily quiet, and empty of merchandise. Only the skeletons of shelving, clothes racks, and the army of cash registers standing at attention were visible.

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The Mc Donalds’ in front of the registers beckoned me. Perhaps, with any luck I’d find some crumbs of food from its menu designed to have extended shelf life. Sugary Coke syrup was better than none at all. That mixed with my saliva, fooled my stomach for the time being. Sucking Heinz ketchup packets, really hit the spot.
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After my sumptuous meal, I decided to look for the storage rooms. There must be something here I could use - or eat. I walked to the back of the store, and found the door I was seeking.

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There was light filtering from inside. This was probably powered by the solar panels I had seen on most large buildings. This meant that there were probably people behind that door. They could be good or bad. At this stage, I did not care. I was going to see what I could find to eat, or drink, for I could not survive on ketchup packets alone.


To be continued…

Changes V

My stomach was growling in protest.

Adequately satisfied with my improvised costume, I stepped outside the barber shop with the intention to find something to eat. I only took with me my wallet and car keys; I was saddened to part with my purse and its contents.

As I stepped outside I thought that I should modify somewhat the way I usually walk. I considered emulating John Travolta’s strut on ‘Saturday Night Fever.’ I tried that, and felt ridiculous. Why draw attention to myself, when my intention was the opposite? I toned it down, and consciously adopted a marching pace, with longer strides.

The gas station was still deserted. Whoever was supposed to come back, had forgotten to do so. From my peripheral vision I saw a league of slow moving vehicles coming down Main street. Just to be on the safe side I hid behind a trash bin and waited for those to pass by.

I gauged that I might be able to outrun those slow moving golf carts (after I ate food), yet I was curious to see who was driving those.



To be continued….

Open Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR2WSitauR4

Changes IV

-“What are you talking about? The man in the dinner said the same thing. Why is Barstow a ghost town? What is happening?” I asked while consciously trying to placate a wave of panic; this was surreal.

-“What do you mean, what’s happened? This is all man made. The world is at war for the most precious resource – water. The droughts, over population, massive building, and global warming have worsened the water shortage. This has forced people to migrate elsewhere, and countries to war for sovereignty of dwindling water sources.” He said as he kept his gaze on the road ahead.

-“So, is everyone charging $7 a bottle too?” I asked while calculating I’d have to do without some other luxuries - like food, as water was of vital necessity.

-“Listen, I don’t know if you ever read a newspaper, but like I said, times have changed. Everyone is out to get theirs and screw the rest. It’s survival of the fittest now. I drive nationwide, and I gotta tell you, it’s not pretty.

Across the plains of what used to be green fields, it’s only dry, barren land. Of course this feeds the fires, which are just let run its course now. Horses are left to die of starvation, all skin and bones; that just breaks my heart. See it’s just too expensive to feed animals, hell even humans - He said with a grimace.

You know, I seen it coming for quite some time. Too many containers hauled in, and a lot less taken out. Jobs sent there, and good manufacturing jobs lost here. They's got so big, now they run the show. See they used the money they made to load up on arms. So China runs the show now, and they try to control the water, and cut off others in Asia.

India too feuds with Pakistan over the Indus, see there’s your job outsourcing dollars at work. I could go on, and on. There’s the middle east, Africa, and just too many neighboring feuds for water.” He said clearly disturbed.

-“Thanks for telling me this. I feel bad now that I like to take long, hot showers.” I said as I itched to take a cool (quick) shower just now. This kind man must be deranged as well I thought. Either that, or I was in a vivid nightmare.

-“Listen to me, and pay attention. You can’t go walking dressed like that there. There be no women in these parts, so you best watch your back. Very dangerous people dwell there.” He reminded me again.

I thanked the driver, as he drove away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. I walked to the gas attention. It was locked with a hand written sign which read, “Back later.”

I walked around to the restroom, to find it locked...figures. Usually on a bristling summer day in the arid desert, the streets are nearly deserted, except for cars on the road. Now, the streets, as well as the roads were eerily deserted.

I noticed that next to the gas station there was a barber’s shop. The front window was broken, from which I could see there was no one inside. The hole on the window was ample enough, so that I was able to enter sideways.

I found what I was looking for, and walked to the back of the shop to the bathroom. The smell of caked excrement and urine in the clogged toilet was vile. I needed to urinate badly. What to do? Go outside and squat in broad daylight to pee, or make my contribution to the collage in this toilet?

I kicked the toilet lid down, and exited the restroom, closing the door shut. The pestilence and the flies swarming over the toilet were intolerable. I looked around and found a cleaning bucket, and improvised its utilitarian use. Afterwards, I walked to a mirror in the back room so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.

After I cut my hair as short as a boy’s, I minced hair strands in diminutive bits. I used the Elmer’s glue I found in my search for loot, and spread a thin film of glue on my lower face. After carefully adhering the shortened strands of hair to my face, I stood back to carefully inspect my reflection on the mirror.

I looked like an effeminate, pretty boy sporting a closely shaved beard. Now, I just needed to find a shirt long enough to cover my ass.



To be continued…

Changes III

-“Please just serve me the water, and save your comments. I don’t intend to accept your kind offer.” I said this with dismissive severity.

-“Suit yourself, eventually you will come around, if it means your survival. Being here with me is a lot better than being gang raped by dozens of men at night, and then made to cook for all of them in the day. There are no women folk in these parts; only renegade gangs which live like rats underground, and hide from the law. You will come around little lady.” He said this with a satisfied and lewd expression on his grimy face.

I sat on a booth with my back to him, to think through my predicament. This man was abusive and deranged, besides having deplorable hygiene rituals.

It was too hot to venture outside. I decided to sit there for a while and wait for the sun to go down a bit, before I ventured outside once again.

The trickle of water was agonizingly refreshing and soothing to my parched mouth and throat. I was careful to close the cap of the bottle after each measured sip of water, so that not a drop would evaporate.

I wish I had some ice cubes. I would balance one on the top of my head. I’d also plop one in my cleavage…and use another cube to cool my temples and flushed cheeks.
I decided not to inquire from about possibility of ice cubes from this man, the least contact I had with him the better. I would spare myself inhailing his nefarious odor, and the unabashedly hungry look he gave me, as though I were a platter of succulent roast beef – well done.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and imagined gliding in a pool of aquamarine water, with a man-made waterfall built-in. A little Tikki bar situated adjacent the pool would be nice too.
I imagined alternating my swimming strokes, with decadently lounging on a floating device, this while drinking from a goblet, an iced-cool strawberry Margarita.
To obliterate the shrill sounds of the world, I imagined diving into the cool body of water, feeling light, buoyant, and embraced completely by the liquid blue.

My reverie was interrupted by a different noise, from that of my immediate environment. It was a sound of an engine approaching in the distance. I opened my eyes to see an 18 wheeler driving west. I immediately grabbed my purse and bottle of water and ran like mad to the main road.

The highway was too far away for me to catch up to him. I ran as fast as I could. I only stopped for a second to put my water bottle inside my purse, then I placed the strap of my purse over my right shoulder, and under my left arm. I made my unencumbered arms wave, as I ran as fast as I possibly could. My still dry throat was raw from screaming for the truck to STOP for me!

From the height of this peripheral vision, the driver must have seen me, for he stopped his truck, and patiently waited for me to cross the remaining distance.

-“Thank God! Thank you for stopping, my car is malfunctioning, I need to call a towing service, please give me a ride to the nearest gas station!” I said in a flurry.

-“Jump in. I can drop you in the nearest town which is Barstow. Although I would strongly caution you from wandering there alone dressed like that. Barstow is practically deserted now. The only known inhabitants are those hiding from the law, and gangs lurking there; and those are real bad people.” He said.


To be continued….

Changes II

My car would not start.

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I decided to walk to get help before the implacable noon day heat would become too oppressive to endure while on foot. I assumed there would be a call box in the vicinity. I had no idea where my cell phone was!

I removed my shirt to leave on my tank top, as rivulets of perspiration adorned by cleavage and the lower portion of my back. I put on my beetle sunglasses and a cap, then grabbed my purse to commence my journey on foot.

I walked for about a mile on this arid patch of desolate desert, to see a sign of the highway 15, yet still no call box in site, and curiously no cars had passed by to flag down for help. My tongue was parched and felt like sandpaper. I looked forward with lustful anticipation to drinking a super size diet soda with lots of ice.

It seemed one could fry eggs on the hot as a skillet asphalt. The pitiless sun, made the interminable road ahead seem to sizzle, with an almost tangible wall of heat emanating from the scorching asphalt, this wall blurring the visibility of the horizon.

I thought that it was a mirage at first. I removed my sunglasses to wipe the stream of sweat clouding my vision in the form of tears of sweat, to get a better look. There it was. It was the outline of a lone dinner about half a mile off the freeway exit.

With renewed vigor, I accelerated my pace, anticipating the moment I would sip a cool, tall drink of diet soda, with lots of ice, and drink cold water as well.

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As I approached this dinner, I found it odd that it seemed deserted. There was not a single car on the parking lot, and the dilapidated sign calling this place and broken windows had seen better days. Some of these broken windows had been boarded up.

I opened up the dirty front door, to enter the dinner which boasted dirty floors as well, and was totally empty. The occupant of this dinner was alerted of my presence by the bell which rang when pushing the front door open.

I could smell him, before I saw him. He was a man in his late 50’s. His beard had encrusted particles of food which had entangled in its dense forest. He wore what would be designed a white tank top. Now it was a grey and tattered image of its former glory. His dirty jeans hung loosely from his lanky frame.

-“Hi! I’d like a cold diet Coke please, and may I see the menu? My car broke down the road; I’ve been walking forever!” I said in a flurry.

-“We don’t serve from the menu. And I ain’t got no diet coke. The only thing I have is whiskey and bottled Gatorade or water, though it’s gonna cost you.” He said through missing teeth, as he surveyed my sweaty and sun scorched cleavage.

-“Please tell me, how much it is and what do you have to eat here? Never mind, I just need water and a telephone please to call for aid. I probably just need some gas for my car to get going.” I said exasperated as I sat down on the counter chair.

-“Water is $7.00 per bottle, and don’t think anyone is going to come here and help you. I can give you a ride anywhere’s you need close by, provided you stay here with me a few days and keep me company.” He said with a wink, and a gapped grin.

-“This is highway robbery! How can a bottle of water cost $7.00? How can water cost more than gasoline? Are you insane? “I asked in shock on both accounts.

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I looked at his long blackened nails encrusted with interred dirt and oil, his face and body exuding an offensive odor, which surely translated to other parts into a rancid and intolerable aroma. I could vomit just from the suggestion of keeping company with this individual. When was the last time he showered?

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Judging from the grime on his face and body which could probably be separated with a dull knife to supply considerable amounts of grease and grime, it had been in the distant past.

-“Listen honey, since Lake Mead dried up, water is as good as gold around here. No one is going to come down to help you here. You are welcome to walk to the nearest town which is Barstow, which is about fifty miles west. Even then, it would do you no good, since that too has become a ghost town. And no, water is not more expensive than gasoline; don’t you know that gasoline costs $10 per gallon now, where have you been?

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Now, unless you are nice to me, I don’t see how you going to get yourself out of this pickle. There are no working gas stations nearby or anyway for you to get help.”


To be continued…

Changes

I was just one of those mornings.

I did not feel fully rested, since I had, had nightmares the night before.
And this morning, my right booby had playfully peeked out of my bathing suit, while swimming in the gym’s Olympic size pool. The culprit was obviously the loose strap of my bathing suit.

I should point out that occasional family gatherings with my kin will tend to provoke nightmares. If you think I am exaggerating, just see for yourself what a typical gathering entails when visiting my brother Martin. This is when I took a visiting aunt, as well as my mother to visit his house.

-“I don’t see the Peru channel anymore. All the time, it’s only bad news. Can you believe an old man went to the hospital for medical treatment, and his gold teeth were extracted while he was unconscious? Also, there is a wave of suicides. People just see hopelessness and intake “Racutin” which is rat poison. You see that all the time in the news!” said my sister- in-law Coty, while Christian music played in the background.

-“Can’t we listen to regular music Coty?” I innocently inquired.

-“We don’t listen to music of the world any more. Do you want to see a DVD about people who went to hell and describe what hell is like?” Coty asked enthusiastically.

Although I was secretly amused by Coty’s newly found fervent dedication to her Temple and her newly inculcated belief system, I drew the line whenever she started to talk negatively about saints and The Virgin Mary, that is when I passionately defended my beliefs, and usually conflict ensued.

Today, I decided to play it cool as there where visitors and I humored her telling her she could play it (not likely I was going to convert to her clan anyway) this was just for sport. Coty tried for 20 minutes to play the DVD, and both her DVD players would not function.

- “El maligno (evil one), doesn’t want me to play it. This can’t be, I was watching DVD’s earlier!”

Not playing the DVD in question, she settled for sermons played through her cd player. The summary of the recruiting talk was that basically there will come a time when the Antichrist will rule the earth, and everyone, will be required to wear a chip, or they won’t be able to buy or sell anything. The Antchrist will be highly regarded by the people, and seen like a savior.

I casually joked that perhaps it was Obama, since he is gaining momentum in the race, being virtually a political rookie in comparison.

-“A sister in the Temple said that she believes that he is! For it is said that he will rule for 7 years, if Obama wins, I am sure then the day of reckoning is near.” Coty said this vehemently.

My brother Martin said in jest, “Man if Hillary gets hold of that information, she can use it to her advantage!”

Oh shit, I was being facetious in my comment, as Martin was too, yet Coty was earnestly serious! For for a moment, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A clue as to how this election would play out. This sinking feeling similar to the one I had with the outcome of the 2000 elections turned out.

-“I am so upset, can you believe Inka Cola soft drinks were bought out by the Chileans?” They are buying everything! And you know they want to invade Peru again! They were about to, just before the elections, when it was thought Ollanta Humala, a leftist was going to win.” Martin said.

-“ That is true. My best friend is Chilean, figure that. I was in a reunion in her house, and unknown to the rest of the party that I am Peruvian, one of them confirmed that they were getting ready to attack.” My aunt said.

-“You know they have the back up of the Ecuadorians which also hate us. You know who was minister of defense before she was elected president of Chile. I just hope the Argentineans would step in, and help us if that ever happened. We gave them jet fighters when they had the Malvinas conflict. And you know they hate the Chileans, because they helped the British win the Malvinas conflict. They spied for them using satellites and allowed their planes to fuel in Chile. If only the Peruvian presidents were half way honest, our military power would be invincible.” Martin said.

-“What role Hugo Chavez would play in this, do you think, if this ever came to be, and what is their motivation?” I asked Martin.

-“For land! Now they are arguing a section of the Pacific Ocean, which the Chileans claim belongs to them.
Chavez is very close friend of Humala, yet, he is very close to Rafael Correa of Ecuador too. I think Evo Morales would back us, since we have good relations with them, and he is close friend of Chavez.

The problem is the dishonesty of the elected presidents. Since Ignacio Prado who took chests full of gold, and jewelry donated by the elite in the war of the Pacific in 1883 with Chile, to buy ammunition in Europe. He simply vanished with the loot. Fujimory was not even Peruvian, he had no qualms about selling national assets to foreign investors, I mean he sold electricity to the Chileans, and the cost of power is outrageous!

As for Alejandro Toledo? He promised jobs, and all he did was travel with a huge entourage in private planes abroad. They spent lavish amounts while letting the economy tank even further. When he left, rumors abound that there were trailers loading from the Presidential Palace in the dark of night. His wife Elaine Karp, was not the exception.

There is a plant which grows in the Amazon jungle called Sacha Inchi which yields 50% Omega 3 oil. Anyway, Karp sold 5 tons of seeds of this plant which only grows in Peru to the French. Now there was a dispute between the French and The Peruvians, since the French intended to cultivate and grow this plant and trademark it as their own.

Last but not least Alan Garcia, who stole untold wealth in the form of bars of gold shipped through Panama, leaving the economy in dire situation in his previous term." said Martin.

-“Yeah, my mom says she is not going back to Peru, until Garcia is no longer in power; what a shame he was re-elected.

You know Martin, I’ve told you before that you should prepare yourself to run for president of Peru one day! You have the presence, charisma, and passionate ideology to make a popular candidate. I’d be your advisor... or rather the female (nicer) version of Rasputin.” I said not entirely joking.


That night, with all the talk about ‘you know who,’ I went to bed with the lights on.






To be continued…

Pococurantism

Remember your childhood dreams?

Open Link:
StumbleVideo - Randy Pausch reprising his &Last Lecture&

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long version : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo

Fairy Tales

Cost of Living

Did you ever wonder how much it costs a drug company for the active ingredient in prescription medications? Some people think it must cost a lot, since many drugs sell for more than $2.00 per tablet. Sharon L. Davis lead a research investigation of offshore chemical synthesizers that supply the active ingredients found in drugs approved by the FDA. As revealed in past issues of Life Extension, a significant percentage of drugs sold in the United States contain active ingredients made in other countries.

In the independent investigation of how much profit drug companies really make, they obtained the actual price of active ingredients used in some of the most popular drugs sold in America The data below speaks for itself.

- Celebrex: 100 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $130.27. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.60 Percent markup: 21,712%

- Claritin: 10 mg Consumer Price (100 tablets): $215.17. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.71 Percent markup: 30,306%

- Keflex: 250 mg Consumer Price (100 tablets): $157.39. Cost of general active ingredients: $1.88 Percent markup: 8,372%

- Lipitor: 20 mg Consumer Price (100 tablets): $272.37. Cost of general active ingredients: $5.80 Percent markup: 4,696%

- Norvasc: 10 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $188.29. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.14 Percent markup: 134,493%

- Paxil: 20 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $220.27. Cost of general active ingredients: $7.60 Percen t markup: 2,898%

- Prevacid: 30 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $44.77. Cost of general active ingredients: $1.01 Percent markup: 34,136%

- Prilosec : 20 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $360.97. Cost of general active ingredients $0.52 Percent markup: 69,417%

- Prozac: 20 mg Consumer price (100 tablets) : $247.47. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.11 Percent markup: 224,973%

- Tenormin: 50 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $104.47. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.13 Percent markup: 80,362%

- Vasotec: 10 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $102.37. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.20 Percent markup: 5 1,185%

- Xanax: 1 mg Consumer price (100 tablets) : $136.79. Cost of general active ingredients: $0.024. Percent markup: 569,958%

- Zestril: 20 mg. Consumer price (100 tablets) $89.89. Cost of general active ingredients $3.20 Percent markup: 2,809

- Zithromax: 600 mg Consumer price (100 tablets): $1,482.19. Cost of general active ingredients: $18.78 Percent markup: 7,892%

- Zocor:40 mg. Consumer price (100 tablets): $350.27. Cost of general active ingredients: $8.63 Percent markup: 4,059%

- Zoloft: 50 mg Consumer price: $206.87. Cost of general active ingredients: $1.75 Percent markup: 11,821%

Steve Wilson, an investigative reporter for Channel 7 News in Detroit, did a story on generic drug price gouging by pharmacies. He found in his investigation, that some of these generic drugs were marked up as much as 3,000% or more. Yes, that's not a typo.....three thousand percent!

So often, we blame the drug companies for the high cost of drugs, and usually rightfully so. But in t his case, the fault clearly lies with the pharmacies themselves. For example, if you had to buy a prescription drug, and bought the name brand, you might pay $100 for 100 pills. The pharmacist might tell you that if you get the generic equivalent, they would only cost $80, making you think you are 'saving' $20. What the pharmacist is not telling you is that those 100 generic pills may have only cost him $10!

At the end of the report, one of the anchors asked Mr. Wilson whether, or not there were any pharmacies that did not adhere to this practice, and he said that Costco consistently charged little over their cost for the generic drugs. I went to the Costco site, where you can look up any drug, and get its online price.

It should be mentioned, that although Costco is a 'membership' type store, you do NOT have to be a member to buy prescriptions there, as it is a federally regulated substance. You just tell them at the door that you wish to use the pharmacy, and they will let you in.

Author: Sharon L. Davis Budget Analyst U.S. Department of Commerce

Friends

Some years ago, at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants (all physically or mentally disabled) assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard race.

At the gun, they all started out with enthusiasm, hoping to run the race to the finish and win.

All, that is, except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry.

The other eight heard him; slowed down and looked back. Then every one of them turned around and went back.

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One girl with Down’s Syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, “This will make it better.” Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the stadium stood and the cheering lasted for several minutes.

People who were there are still telling the story.

Deep down inside us we know that what matters in this life is not just winning for ourselves. What matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course.

- Author unknown

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Link: Happiness...pps (608.6 KB

Full Circle VII

-“Where have you been Sandra? You didn’t even answer your cell phone for two weeks! I wanted to tell you that I bumped into Paul and Sherry at the Santa Monica pier last weekend. After the fiasco that went down, I would have thought they would never speak again!” asked Carla.

-“Sorry I was indisposed Hun. You know I am sort of glad that Paul and Sherry have arrived at an amicable understanding…they seem to have a special bond.” Sandra commented.

-“Just wanted to check in with you, to see if you are OK; do you want to have lunch this weekend?” asked Carla.

-“I'm sorry Carla. I was out of town for a couple of weeks, and won’t venture outside for a few weeks still. I just had Russian threads implanted in my face. This is sort of like an internal face brassiere, to lift and arrest sagging of the face. I had this procedure done in Bogota, Colombia.”

-“Sandra! What in the world got into you to go so far for Russian threads? Well, at least Colombia is a bit closer than Russia. But Sandra, why do you subject yourself constantly to these drastic measures? You truly look great!” asked Carla. .
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-“Honey, you have no idea how hard I have to work to stay in shape and keep it all together. I mean, I have to…as active as I am dating you know. Besides these are mild procedures compared to a full blown face lift, which really looks sort of done.”

-“By the way, who are you dating nowadays? Still going out with Jeff? Or that kid who takes you to the rifle firing range? No wonder you have no time for me ever.” Claimed Carla.

-“Actually, I am actively dating three guys. And believe me, there is always a method to my madness. You see, with George it's trivial fun and good times. He's really cute, and makes me feel young, and cool. Yet, that is the very thing which ultimately irritates me a little. I feel that I need to tone it down with him. I have to censor my thoughts, and keep it light and simple with him.
.
Now with Dan, I have a challenging mental rapport, which I need as well. I like to be opinionated, to challenge, and to be challenged as well; even to learn from a man.
Dan supplies that type of mental stimulation. Together we patronize the arts, and his mental acumen even deploys to bed time play for he has proclivity for domination. Yet, his analytical mind is deficient in the expression of emotions, feelings, and tenderness.

Therefore, that is where Jeff comes in. With Jeff, I enjoy great, earthy sex. He is very loving, and makes me feel cherished and wanted. Making love to him is like enjoying a soulful jam session of great jazz. It feels akin to delicious, solid food which is comforting and satisfying at the same time.

I need a portion of all three. Though I only see one each week. The perfect man would be a combination of components from each of them.” Sandra said.

-“Sandra, you are living it up aren’t you after your divorce? George is almost old enough to be your son. By the way, when can I see you?” asked Carla.

-“Carla dear, right now I resemble Rocky Balboa, in his last undefeated round. Why don’t you come over this Saturday and bring me a light latte? See you then Hun.”

Full Circle VI

Paul looked in horror at Sandra. He clenched his fists as if he were preparing for a fight; his face was flushed in anger.

-“Of all the despicable, twisted plots you could have conjured in your mind to manipulate me, this takes the cake mother. Where the hell did you get this preposterous claim that my fiancée is my sister?” Paul said this through clenched teeth.

-“Listen to me Paul! This is no ploy, and no game. This is real life, and urgent!
I already knew your father….I mean Kevin, for he is truly your father. A father is someone who lovingly raises you, and protects you, not just someone who ejaculates sperm.
I was already going out with your father, when I met Mark – Sherry’s father.
You see, Kevin had gone abroad to study one semester in London. It was during that time, that I met Mark at a party, and we had a fling. Mark never even knew he got me pregnant.
This you can confirm with Mark, if you don’t believe me.” She said as tears ran down her cheeks.

-“Wait, I don’t get it. If dad is not my real dad, and he was studying all the way in Europe, how is it that you two got married and he believes me to be his son?” Paul asked confused.

-“I have always loved your father. I made a little mistake once, so I thought that I would remedy the situation as best as I could. As soon as I was sure that I was pregnant, I flew to London that same week to meet Kevin. I arrived unannounced, and it came to be that he believes to be your dad.
Kevin is truly your father…he loves you dearly.” Sandra said this while walking towards Paul to embrace him.

-“Don’t touch me! That is the most heinous thing you could have plotted mother. You used dad, and now you claim to be the victim, now that he is in love with his secretary. Did it ever occur to you that he married you out of a sense of bound duty? You have some nerve lady!”

-“Paul, son…please, don’t judge me so harshly. I was young and foolish, and yes I made a mistake under the influence of drinks and I got carried away, but I made the best decision I could…for you…for us! Don’t you see baby?
What else could I have done…think about it, which other alternatives were there for me…for us?” Sandra was now sobbing and embracing Paul uncaring that her black mascara was soiling his crisply ironed white shirt.

-“You could have kept your legs closed! That is what you should have done.” Paul said this unforgivingly.

-“You ungrateful son of a bitch! How dare you renegade on your own life? I may be an awful person in your eyes, but I fought like a lion to give you a secure life with all the comforts and a good education. You grew in the sanctuary of a stable family…I gave you life!”

-“Stop with your melodramatics mother. No one is buying your crap. There is no excuse to have fooled dad all these years. That is despicable! You are despicable, and your loathsome deeds have brought us to this very moment.
I have had sexual intercourse with my own sister!” He said this with unmasked contempt as tears of rage clouded his vision.

-“Paul, you just don’t know what it’s like for a woman. This is still a man’s world, and while we can’t use brute strength to beat the system, sometimes we must rely on our feminine wiles in order to survive.
I am a survivor, if I had to use your father, so what. Look how this came to close in a full circle. He eventually did cheat on me too, during our marriage I never cheated. My mistakes have caught up with me, for that I am truly sorry. I will never be sorry that you came into my life. I love you dearly son.”

-“Thank you for having me mother! I owe you my life and my sanity. You have ruined my life!” Paul screamed this.

-“OK…if that is how you feel then never mind. Forget we had this conversation. Go ahead and marry your dear Sherry. Why not? The Egyptian Pharaohs did. Really!
.
Come on now, don’t be a hypocrite Paul. You claim that God doesn’t exist, so why follow His commandments? After all it is written in The Old Testament that incest is forbidden, and that was embraced by man’s law.
Even Darwin had a hard time explaining how our moral sense of conscience was not implanted by God in His image, as that is what he claimed “differentiates man and the lower animals.”
.
So go right ahead! Just go outside and get married, let's get this party started. I promise I won’t say a thing. I never expected your marriage to her to enjoy longevity anyway.” She said this as she placed her hands on her hips.

-"I think the Botox has migrated to your brain mother; you are insane." Paul said.

-“By the way son, I’d rather you said nothing of this until after my divorce is finalized. I plan to pass your father through the wringer in court. Besides Paul, Kevin truly loves you, don't break his heart.” Sandra made a heartfelt plead.



To be continued….

Full Circle V

Sandra almost collided into a woman when leaving the gym. This woman just happened to be a casual friend whom Sandra had not seen in a while.

-“Sandra! It’s me Gina! How are you? She asked while scrutinizing Sandra from this close frame.

-“Gina! Good to see you! I am very good - considering. I am so glad I bumped into you! My son is getting married next month, and I’d love for you guys to come too. It’s just a little civil ceremony at the Marina Club.”

-“They are not having a religious ceremony? By the way Sandra, are you aware there is a flap of skin hanging loose from your cheek?” Gina asked with a perplexed expression on her face.

-“Oh! This? I’m just peeling now. It’s a glycolic acid peel. I’m not supposed to touch it at all, just simply let it all hang out. As to the wedding, you know my son is an atheist, so there you have it. It will be just a civil ceremony.”

-“How long will your skin peel off? I would love to see the results. We should get together after your peeling in done and have some coffee!”

-“This peeling will be done in about three weeks. By the way Gina, forget coffee, life is too short for coffee meet ups. I will take you to my favorite new place. It’s the riffle firing range….you will love it!”




Sandra looked ravishing in her strapless mint green dress. This dress set off her golden tan, and hugged her shapely form. The previous week, she had spent a week in a Caribbean island, courtesy of one of her dates.

For her son’s wedding, she invited Jeff to be her date. He looked very handsome wearing a tan colored suit.

One her way to the restroom, she encountered her soon to be ex-husband.

-“Hello Sandra, are you making a political statement today? Don’t tell me, you are voting Democrat this election.” Kevin asked while intercepting her in the hallway.

-“Hello darling, you must be psychic. Actually I would suffer from acute apathy if I voted Republican this election, all things considered.” Sandra smiled sweetly.

-“Although victory may be sweet, I hope it will be permitted to be long lasting, all things considered.” He said.

-“Sarcasm has always been the core of your charm darling.” Sandra responded.

-“I’m merely realistic darling. Mankind has evolved very little since the stone age; man is still barbaric. Besides, if you want to predict the future outcome, or behavior of people, you only have to analyze past behavior.” He said this in a serious tone.




As more of the guest gathered, Paul called Sandra to join a circle of people.

-“Mom! I want you to meet Sherry’s parents; they just flew in last night from New York.” Paul said enthusiastically.

The beautifully decorated garden and the oppressive heat of the day seemed to swirl around Sandra. She felt lightheaded and collapsed in a heap on the pristine manicured lawn.

Sandra came to, as Paul gently shook her, after placing a cotton ball soaked in alcohol near her nostrils. Sandra asked Paul to help her get indoors. It was the heat of the day which had made her lose consciousness.

While they walked to the bar, leaning on Paul’s frame, Sandra diverted their destination into a storage room. She pulled Paul inside and quickly closed the door.

-“Paul! Listen to me son. You can’t marry Sherry. She’s not the girl for you. You simply can’t!” Sandra started crying while she desperately pleaded her case to her son.

-“Mom, the heat stroke has obviously affected you. It’s too late now. Nothing you can say to me, will make me change my mind. I am marrying Sherry in less than an hour, whether you like it or not!” Paul said this sternly to Sandra as she sat on a stack of boxes.

-“Yes, there is something I can tell you that will make you change your mind son. Sherry is your sister.”



To be continued…

Full Circle IV

It took several more glasses of Grand Marnier to help Sandra fully relax and shed her apprehensions. She asked Jeff if it was OK to turn off the lamp lights, and rather let the room be illuminated by the restroom light.

Sensing that she was a bit uptight, Jeff suggested a thorough massage. Sandra loved the idea and lay on the bed face down, while still wearing her brassiere and undies.

His strong hands on her skin elicited a feeling of undiluted bliss. She sighed contentedly as he worked on the knots and tenseness on her shoulders, while leaning over to softly whisper in her ear to simply relax.

The baroque and sensual whisper followed by butterfly little kisses dispersed freely on the back of her neck, sent a direct signal to her pelvic area. On their own accord, her legs shifted, to magnify the degree of separation between those.

Jeff worked his way slowly down her back, only pausing the massage to bestow more kisses down her back, while simultaneously releasing the clasp of her obtrusive brassier. Sandra responded with giggles and sighs which emboldened Jeff to extend his masterful hands to her sides and under to cup her breasts and belly and travel back to the point of origin.

As Jeff worked his way down, and straddled her derriere, Sandra turned her head sideways. She was transfixed by the image reflected on the large mirror on the dresser. It was a beautiful image. If only she had installed cameras in this hotel room, she thought to herself. She would replay this image when she masturbated.

The ivory of her pallid skin, contrasted sharply with his dark and muscular frame. His strong and assertive hands traveled over her body in fluid motion as if they were choreographed dancers, expertly gliding over the curves and platforms of her naked form. They circled, and grinded, teasingly hiding under her to cup her full breasts, only to come together once again at the jointure of her thighs.

Sandra was mesmerized by the multiple stimulations. These visual, tactile, as well as auditory. Her over heated and ultra sensitized skin, was flushed with a rose hue; Jeff was generous with his compliments on her smooth skin, and over all attractive physique. This was like a salve anointed to heal her broken heart.

Her legs opened wantonly, shamelessly. These obedient to the command from the vortex of her center throbbing with a life of its own. She was like putty to his hands, and did not object to having her undies slowly pulled down her generous curves.
His fingers slightly teased the folds of her sex, only to assure himself, that Sandra was not oblivious to his ministrations.

He did not intend to stop his massage to linger there. He intended to promote her level of arousal to such a peak, that she would beg him to enter her. Actually, it did not come to be that Sandra begged for it. She eventually took command of the situation and straddled him. She went at her own pace to accommodate herself to the feel of another man inside of her.

.

See, it was just like a riding a bike. You outgrow one, and get another one and ride it. She rode him until she screamed out loud.




To be continued….

Open Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrRK0tc_VF4

Full Circle III

“Handsome submissive to be used by a female. Willing to do house cleaning, massages, and pedicures.” The post read.

-“Oh, my!” Very interesting Sandra thought.

Well, she did plan to get rid of a lot of stuff. She planned to get rid of the stuff which reminded her of her soon to be ex-husband. What would be the harm in asking this kind hearted, and solicitous young man to help her tidy up, and help her move boxes and such? This with an offer for a massage to boot!

-“Oh, here’s another one!”
This titled: “Let’s shoot some guns at the rifle range.” It read.
That would be awesome! To feel the power wrapped around her hands, to aim and execute with acute concentration and pre-meditated calculation at the target…right between its legs.

Sandra spent the rest of her lunch hour browsing through the men seeking women classifieds. She decided to answer one which seemed very nicely written by an intriguing man. The other posts, perhaps she would explore at a later date. It was Valentine's Day tomorrow after all!

She decided it was time to start dating again. It had been quite a while since she had dated…gulp. No matter, she was hot, still a good looking woman, and her derriere was to coin the popular song: “Bootylicious.”
The procedure had been worth every dime. She now reveled in the pleasure of buying sexy lingerie which only complimented her improved figure.

For her photograph, Sandra wore a form fitting knitted dress which hugged closely her enhanced curves. She posed sideways, at a favorable angle, and adorned it with a brilliant smile. She sent this picture with her reply to the posted ad, asking this total stranger if he would like to be her valentine.

Sandra intended to be as assertive and effective in her romantic life, as she was in her business persona. She was no wall flower.

-“You seem startled, is anything the matter?” Jeff asked as he warmly and assertively shook Sandra’s extended hand.

Sandra carefully guarded her expression. She made up her mind to be open to all possibilities, and she intended to have a fabulous free meal this evening. She made a mental note to ask next time for pictures, before she actually made the time and effort to meet someone in person.

-“No, I’m fine. Actually, I have to tell you that this is the very first date I’ve had in 34 years. That is a very, very long time. Please excuse me, if I seem not updated with the dating protocol.” Sandra said this while focusing her attention on the menu before her. She was famished.

Jeff was not fooled. He was a very astute and intuitive man. He looked at Sandra with eyes that questioned if she liked him; silently asking if she would allow the race division to set up a barrier between them.

-“Sandra if there is a problem, the least we can do is enjoy a great meal together, good conversation, and perhaps make a new friend. No expectations, no pressures on my part.” He said.

After taking a long gulp of her Grand Marnier, which was thick, hot and sweet... Sandra took a good look at Jeff.
Her eyes surreptitiously surveyed his frame, while taking a complete inventory of him. He had kind, soulful eyes… these expressive and dark like aromatic coffee. His lips were lush and sensual; these complementing his strong nose. His curly hair was peppered with white. He looked very well put together for his 49 years of age, and he smelled simply delectable.

Sandra focused on his strong hands for a moment. Her pre-conceived notions crumbled in the face of an acute need to simply be held and caressed. She needed to feel wanted, desired and to feel alive once more. Her skin vibrated and her body ached to be touched by a man again.
Her bruised self-esteem needed a little tender care too. What did race matter? They were two lonely people gathered on this Valentine's day. They were merely human after all.

Sandra reached out her hand to enclose his, and answered with a sweet smile on her lips: “There is no problem.”


to be continued...

Open link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_lYyUL9lbE

Full Circle II

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks to baptize her keyboard.

Sandra placed her laptop on her bedside table to avoid ruining it. She grabbed a box of tissues, and blew her nose, then dabbed her eyes of the brimming well of tears impeding a clear vision of the screen.

What was the point of crying for anyway? It was not as if she did not sense that they had drifted apart for quite some time now. The sex between them lapsed by months; he always seemed over preoccupied by work, and too tired to make love.

Still, it was quite different to perceive something as a probability, then to see them making love on her own bed. What hurt the most was not the sexual part for they seemed to enjoy strong sexual compatibility - that was not it. What hurt the most was the tenderness with which they embraced post satiating their passion. They seemed to care a lot for each other. She felt like an usurper, a voyeur of Eros blessing a couple with that elusive thing called love.

Just then Carla walks into the room, asking Sandra if she is in pain.

-“I am in the most gut wrenching pain imaginable Carla. I’ve realized that decades of fidelity, love, creating a loving family, raising our son, was ultimately not enough for our love to thrive. So many good times, as well as bad times we went through. So many ironed shirts, elaborate meals…basically I was his mother, advisor, cheerleader, therapist, and slut. I too worked hard to build together pretty much what we enjoy now, all the while raising a son too. And now, he found a much newer model to bestow his passion and genuine affection on. Is this remotely fair?” Sandra asked this quite bitterly.

-“Oh my God! Sandra how did you get this? That’s his secretary! That son of a bitch! How did you get this anyway?” Carla said this when it dawned on her who the naked people embracing and lovingly kissing on the bed were.

-“For some time, I had suspected that he could be cheating on me. His aloofness was too obvious. Before I went into surgery, I had someone install various cameras inconspicuously placed in our bedroom. On purpose I told him that I’d recuperate post the procedure in your home, so that you would take care of me. I knew this would give him excess freedom to do as he did…see!”

-“I’m sorry Hun, truly! You had a perfect marriage, and you helped him get to where he is now. What are you going to do now? Are you going to confront him, or keep quiet?” Carla asked with genuine concern.

-“They are in love Carla!” Sandra said as she broke down and sobbed disconsolately.

Sandra softly caressed the send command button of the mouse. She delicately circled it with rotating motions as if she were caressing her engorged clitoris. She forestalled pressing it for she knew that once she pressed it, there would be no turning back. With a cold detachment which surprised her, she applied due pressure to click send.

-"Mom! I can’t believe you did that! I know he did wrong, but couldn’t you have talked it over? Perhaps you two could have gone to couple’s therapy? Did you know that your prank cost him the promotion to Vice Presidency? That cheating video of his which you ‘CC’ sent to all his contacts, personal and business, ruined all the hard work and decades of ascending the corporate ladder! That was really devious on your part mom! And to top it off, you kicked him out of his own home too? I can’t believe you mom.” Paul was incredulous.

-“Paul my love, please know that this is always your home too. If you marry that girl…what’s her name, and if she ever takes away your home, and half of what you've worked so hard to attain, please know that you are always welcome back to this house with mommy.” Sandra said this lovingly into the telephone.

-“Just one more thing darling, if you do marry her, please…please…please! Don’t have children just yet, wait about five years, or even better, seven. I am too young looking and hot to be a grandma.”

to be continued...

Full Circle

What an ungrateful son of a bitch!

These comments I kept to myself, more so since the son happens to be my one and only. To have the gall to tell me to mind my own business! This after 18 hours in labor, after developing gestational diabetes, and a ruptured vagina to bring this boy forth into this God forsaken world... and he has the audacity to disrespect me!

-“Fine! Have it your way my dear. Just ignore my gut feelings about that girl. I simply hope that one day you don’t end up in court like The Beatles. I mean, like Paul McCartney, with his gorgeous wife ready to gauge his eyes out for as much money as she can take him for! To think that she seemed like such a paragon of virtues too! She's all for fighting for animal rights... and unsheathing her claws only when it was only prudent to do so.” Sandra said this maliciously.

-“Mom, I’m sorry, but I need to decide who is best for me. I love Sherry. She is a wonderful girl, and I am sure with time you will grow to love her too. It’s settled! We are getting married this summer.” Paul said this with finality as he kissed Sandra on the cheek and departed.

Why do men think with their dicks? Sandra thought this, as she shook her head. She could not pin point what it was about this too cute girl which she did not buy, and made her repel the notion of Sherry becoming her daughter-in-law. Perhaps it was due to her calculating, soul less eyes, or the haughtiness which adorned her like an offensive perfume.

Sandra looked in the full length mirror. She thought to herself that one day Sherry too would be a victim of the passage of time. Good looks are ephemeral, and if there is no substance to support the façade, time as implacable as it is, would one day too rob Sherry's skin of its suppleness, elasticity, and firmness. She wondered if the mirage of love would be sustainable then?

At fifty-five years of age, Sandra was holding up very well, yet of course this did little to ameliorate the mourning of her youthful beauty. Sandra took careful inventory of herself, turning sideways, and looking at her reflection from the back. She was not happy with her ass. Years of sitting behind a desk had made her buttocks resemble a set of pancakes.

-“Carla, thanks for having coffee with me, I really need a good friend to talk to now. Things just seem out of whack for me. I feel as if things are out of my control. This, starting with my ass, and my son, who is choosing an airhead girl for a wife... whose main assests are her amplified boobs! Also, I sense that my husband is cheating on me............. This is really shaking my self-esteem Carla. I called you to ask you for a referral to a decent plastic surgeon. I have decided to be a little more selfish and do something for myself. I want to get a Brazilian butt lift, something a la Jennifer Lopez.”

-“Honey are you crazy? That woman needs special underwear to accommodate her ass!
You have a great figure, and I’m sorry to be so blunt, but at our age, we can’t look forward to wearing low cut jeans with a thong peeking from the cleft of our butt cheeks!”

-“Oh hush Carla. Today’s 50’s are the new 35’s. Why, I hardly look my age with all the junk I get injected into my face. I’m not ready to be Grandma Moses yet, and go gently into that goodnight! I want something to lift my spirits - as well as my ass – to help me feel really good about myself!” Sandra said with conviction.

-“Listen to reason Sandra! I need to warn you that plastic surgery does not come without risks. Let me tell you about this lady friend of mine. She is only 40 years old – only 40! And needs to wear diapers.

She too wanted a pick-me up, and she decided to go to a surgeon in the San Fernando Valley. This guy has a strange last name; anyway, after having four kids, she wanted to get this ‘vagina reconstructive’ surgery done. To make a long story short, this man is so inept that he punctured two holes into her bladder!

She’s gone to other doctors to get the problem corrected without positive results. She rues the day that she had the procedure done. Trust me Hun, think long and hard before messing with what nature and God blessed you with. You should not endanger your health so lightly - not even for a man!"

Post her operation, Sandra did rue the day she decided to get it done. It hurt so much! As the pain killers lured her to sleep, she cursed her cheating husband. She took solace in how good she would look once she mended. She would go buy lots of sexy, lacy lingerie to show case her new assets. That thought motivated a little smile, before sleep embraced her.





to be continued...

My Dream

It was late on a moonlit night, as I was driving on a deserted road.
The car was running low on gas with no gas stations, or any other sign of life on the horizon.

On my right side, I saw the silhouette of a house. On impulse, as if by its own accord the car drove off the road into the road leading to this house.

The electricity was not functioning. It was illuminated by lit candles and the full moon which filtered through the open windows. I knocked and no one answered. Since there were several open windows to let the summer heat out, I snuck in through one of the open windows.

A middle aged woman descended from the second floor with long dark hair adored into birds’ nests, which had not been teased by a comb in quite some time. She was blessed with large haunted eyes, contrasting with her palid complexion. She seemed hyper and scared of her very own shadow.

She grabbed my arm and urged me to close the windows, quickly,before They came in. She was desperate in her plea. I ran to help her close and secure all of the windows.

Later on, several people sat down in the kitchen to play poker under a kerosene lamp. The hostess sat in front of me, and former President Bill Clinton sat on my right. Although I was not participating in the game or on the on going activities, I was urged to get rid of the marijuana which was being passed around in a pipe. A large bag of marijuana was sitting right in front of me, and I was given the urgent order to get rid of it, as the hostess announced the cops had arrived.

I quickly grabbed the see-through bag and hid it inside a cookie jar which was near me, this was just as the cops broke in with flashlights; like a swat team in full force.

Eventually I found out who ‘they’ were. These bandits who terrorized this woman by breaking into her home occasionally and demanding that she feed them. They would leave several hours later after they played havoc on her nerves and on her pantry.

The next evening, they did manage to break in, they were four men this time. They ran amuck and made a mess of her home. They terrorized the woman at knife point, and I could tell that her will was broken. She was completely dominated and terrorized by these men, yet she prepared for them as if expecting them, as noted by the surplus supply of food and liquor stored in her panty.

They had stayed overnight to sleep sprawled on the couches of the living room, drunk and reeking of body odor. I told the woman I would venture out to get help. She looked down the window of her bedroom, and told me not to go out for there was a pack of wild dogs roaming. They were rabid and famished. They would tear me to pieces.
.
I instructed the woman to follow me downstairs, for I had a plan. We carefully searched the pockets of these bandits for the car keys to their pick up. The leader of the pack had those. I grabbed them as stealthily as I could.

Next we threw chicken bones on the porch of the house to lure the pack of rabid dogs to the entrance of her house. When we saw that they took the bait and gathered there, I counted six dogs. These were pit bulls, and Dobermans, and they looked scruffy and ferocious with foam dribbling from their mouths. They were perfect.

I told the lady to help me pick up the leader of the bandits; he was the meanest of the bunch. She did not want to. I asked her how long she planned to be afraid?
Without waiting for a reply,I ordered her to help me pick up the sleeping form of the bandit. We could only half drag him, and pull him towards the entrance.

We gave him a hearty push outside and quickly closed the door to let the pack of rabid dogs feast that morning.

I don’t recall what happened to the rest of the pack of bandits. I assume that if I had pre-meditated the plan, they would have been restrained somehow and shown the same exit door.

That is when I woke up this morning.

Appearances

Appearances

Question: Why do some women stay single?

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Women without Men VIII

The pearlescent moonlight which had been her guiding light and a stoic witness of her terror, now conspired against her by highlighting her whereabouts. The moment was surreal as if walking on the moon, this an endless, and vast open space of desert sand and rocks which seemed interminable. There was nowhere to hide except for the scattered bush.

When Maribel heard the motor of the car approaching, she ventured off the road into the vast open space of the desert, yet the headlights with the conspiracy of the moonlight, did not lose sight of her form.

Tears of frustration blurred her vision, and this led her to stumbled on a loose rock. This couldn’t be happening to her. She was barely beginning her life; she had so many dreams and goals to attain still. She was almost ready to graduate, and hoped to fall in love, and eventually form a family, and also to travel a little bit. She planned to see the world, beyond the poverty-stricken border of Juarez, with its polluted waters thanks to the maquiladoras. She planed to travel to faraway places just like she’d seen in the movies.

Like a cat playing a game with a mouse, the car followed six feet behind her, while reflecting its high beam lights on her. She got up and kept on going, stubbornly ignoring her reality for an interminable period of time, which seemed like forever.

.

Maribel was beyond exhausted. She was sleep deprived and her knees threatened to give away and begged to stop and rest. Yet, she doggedly kept on going for she was acutely aware that she was enjoying life and freedom, perhaps for the last time.

He must have been getting tired as well, for the next time she stumbled on loose rocks and she lost her balance, he turned off the car and continued the chase on foot.

This was getting old she thought, this wrestling with this maniac. She noticed he had used thick grey tape to hold in place some form of cloth on the cavity of his right eye. This hardly did anything to enhance his ugly features.

Maribel still held the bloody wrench in her hand, yet it made little impact on him, after he slapped her face continuously and she felt her strength and life force waning. He grabbed the long chain which was adhered to the shackle attached to her ankle, and used that chain to secure her hands together behind her.

With the moon an impervious witness to her assault and degradation, her captor violated the altar of her captive and shivering body. He was not satisfied with merely raping her; he took special delight in making her scream in acute pain. Like a rabid dog, he bit her sensitive nipple so hard, that he amputated the nipple and most of her areola off.

The expression of her unbearable pain seemed to overexcite him. Before ejaculating he withdrew his weapon, only to insert it in her mouth. This was simply too much, of already too much. Maribel gagged on this offensive member coated in menstrual blood, and urine. While she was gagging she bit his member with the entire strength remnant in her being.

He howled in pain and got up to kick her face, chest and stomach several times with his boots. After about a dozen kicks, he untied her hands to utilize the same chain to adorn her neck with it, like multiple strings of pearls, to asphyxiate the life out of her.



Maribel witnessed as a third party how this sickly deranged man continued kicking her corpse while hurling obscenities. She looked down on the mutilated and bloodied corpse which had been her body for twenty-two years. She felt such sorrow for her life to have ended this way - such a waste. She was to have become someone’s mother, wife, healer, daughter, and best friend. She hoped her parents would not see what was left of her mutilated corpse. Her face was beaten to a pulp; what had been her pretty face, was unrecognizable now. Her one good eye froze in time the expression of horror and unbearable pain she had endured.

-“Why God do you allow men to become beasts, for evil to thriumph over goodness, and for innocent victims to die like this?”

-“Why? What gives the right to someone bigger, stronger and more powerful to take away the life of someone defenseless?”

As if in response, a current of wind gathered force and seemed to carry the gleeful laughter of an infant.

She looked around her, and was now able to see other lost souls wandering the desert. She intended to find out why this had happened to her. Was it merely karma? She intended to find out.








Open Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqzzsvNneXc

Women without Men VII

Maribel did not know if his intention was to throw her into the rapidly engulfing flames. With uncommon strength derived from sheer desperation, she was able to cut through the thin aluminum chain and flee outside the house now half way engulfed in flames.

She circumvented the menacing form of her captor, yet was not able to get away too far due to the long chain trail which followed her as a shadow. He caught up to her and stepped on the chain, making her halt and causing her fall.

He wielded a sharp knife, and she a hot pipe wrench. They struggled for supremacy and survival with a primal animalistic instinct driving each to administer as much harm as possible.
He bit her ear sadistically, clenching to it like a rabid dog would to a piece of meat, while attempting to slash her clothes off her. Maribel howled in pain and seeing how puny her attempts to stop him with the wrench were in deterring him, she maneuvered to roll over on top. With renewed strength Maribel interred the wrench into his right eye. This caused his eyeball to become dislodged and precariously hang out by a ligament.

-“An eye for an eye you miserable dog!” Maribel said this with a vengeance.

Maribel did not waste her advantage point, when he was down and screaming like a banshee, she gathered her chain about her and ran away from him. The moon lit night lighting her passage still.

Maribel ran as fast as her legs could carry her; she ran for dear life. After a while, when the flames of the small house seemed a speck on the horizon, Maribel searched the inside pocket of her jacket. She had left her cell phone on vibrate during working hours. She flipped it open, only to be dismayed that she had forgotten to charge the battery this morning. She had a fraction of the battery time at her disposal. She quickly dialed the operator for the police number.

-“Informacion de Juarez.” The operator responded.

-“Hello…Hello..Miss? I have been kidnapped! I… I don’t know where I am. I am in the middle of the desert! Can you help me please? Please send the police here. There is a also a fire, surely you can locate the small burning house? PLEASE!” Maribel made the heartfelt plead to the operator.

The call dropped. Maribel was so very, very tired by now, as well as freezing cold. The currents of desert wind seemed to give her a slight push, the ominous howling of the wind, seeming to urge her to keep on going. This time she dialed her home.

-“ Mami? Mamita!…it’s me Maribel! I have been kidnapped! I don’t know where I am. I am in the desert somewhere, and there is a small house burning right now. Can you call the police please? I don’t have much battery time. I just want to tell you ….that I love you. I love you all...very much.” Maribel sank down to her knees and cried disconsolately. "I'm so scared!"

-“Mijita! This can’t be happening, not to you! You are such a good daughter. Let me get your father on the line...wait...let him call the police right now…wait mijita. I love you too!” Her mother answered desperately.


The line dropped again, this time the battery life was exhausted. Before she turned around to see the car coming behind her, she heard the motor approaching.

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to be continued...

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Open Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGcMFFieNe4

Women without Men VI

Maribel first felt the ardor on the cut of her upper lip. This ardor also manifested on her tender right eye. It burnt like acid and it was this acute discomfort which woke her up. It was warm and wet, and the spray was relentless; it tasted awful! Then it dawned on her that this deranged person was pissing on her, as if his intention was to water the lawn with his hose.

By this time she realized her arms and legs were responsive, which gave her a chance to cover her face and roll away from the offensive spray of urine. Unfortunately she learned that her right ankle was captured by a shackle which was soldered to a long, thin, aluminum chain. This chain reached all the way around behind the kitchenette of this small house.

The shadows set off by the multiple lit candles, gave his shadow a menacing elongated length, as that of a giant. The living room was covered with an old shaggy carpet; it was barren except for a dirty single mattress and a blanket.

She unzipped her jacket, and cleaned her face as well as she could with the inside of her blouse, careful not to touch her swollen right eye which throbbed to the tempo of her heart beat. It was almost swollen shut, so she could only see through a fraction of it.

From the corner of her good eye she could see him coming towards her. This time she was ready for him. She rested her weight on her right side to gain momentum, and when he came towards her she kicked with all her might his groin area, using her left leg. The unexpected impact sent him reeling backwards, while swearing and clutching his groin. She utilized her advantage by jumping him and straddling his back. She pulled his hair, and scratched his face with long gashes. She felt his skin tearing off and encrusting under her long finger nails.

-"Maldita puta!" Why did he keep calling her damned whore while simultaneously trying to tend to his painful groin, and trying to get her off him. He succeeded by elbowing her on the face, which caused Maribel to lose her balance and painfully land on her left side. She landed against the counter top of the kitchenette.

The impact toppled one of the candles, which fell on the shaggy carpet. This ignited a trail of flames advancing steadily towards the twin mattress. Since he was busy rolling over in pain while clutching his balls, she was galvanized into action due to the imminent threat of being engulfed by the flames.

Maribel quickly retrieved the wrench hidden in her cleavage, and before commencing the breaking off the thin aluminum chain, she got up to launch once more towards her captor and kick him one more time between the legs. This time she aimed from behind as he was kneeling.

As expected, he started yelling obscenities at her, and tried to reach her to bestow more blows on her no doubt. Maribel took advantage of his shaky balance to push him backwards hard. This thoughtful gesture assisted his landing on the comfort of the flame-engulfed twin mattress.

Since he was obviously occupied for the time being, Maribel frantically adjusted the wrench to cut away at the thin aluminum chain. She pulled with all her might, yet it barely gave way. She tightened the pressure some more of the wrench and stood up this time to use her left foot for leverage and pulled with all her might. She was sweating profusely as the flames seemed to gain momentum to lick the walls of the small house now.

The visibility was excellent now, yet the heat was too close for comfort. She could see that paying no heed to his balls, her captor had managed to run outside to roll over the desert sand and rocks to subdue the flames he had danced in.

-"Focus!" she willed herself, as tears of frustration and profuse sweat due to the rapidly advancing flames, and smoke generated clouded her partial good vision. She had so very little time left before being consumed by the flames, as well as seeing her captor recuperate from his ordeal and walk towards her now with such a menacing grimace which surely personified Satan himself.

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To be continued...