Summer’s in full swing. The season when work slows down and I can write. I’ve actually extensively edited SP and was planning on publishing the next phase of it, after their rescue. I got through the first 16 chapters and cut several thousand words out before it was time for my big family reunion.
I survived the reunion, had a ton of fun, and came back ready to get down to writing. Unfortunately, there’s been a terrible development. My first day back at work was going ok until our practice manager pulled me aside and told me that our admin manager had just been diagnosed with cancer. Despite all the medical stuff she was dealing with, her biggest concern was getting her part of the schedule done. Which she couldn’t do until I finished my part.
Therefore, while not what I was originally planning to do, I must get this done for Linda’s sake. She shouldn’t be worrying about work at a time like this. Later in the week, I found out she’d been told her cancer is inoperable. Once I finish the schedule, I plan to launch into making her a blanket like I did for my colleague who died last year. That will take up all of my free time. So, no writing in my future. Wanted to let people know that I’m not abandoning it nor am I ignoring pleas for me to finish. I’m just really going to be busy on things that are more important in my life right now. Hope you all understand.
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His booming laugh drew my attention first. You always knew he was in the room with a laugh that made everyone smile. We met twenty (!) years ago. He had a crooked grin and a wonderful personality. He loved residency: loved to learn, then to teach what he’d learned to others. Nothing seemed to ruffle the calm he projected. He was beloved by all of us that he took under his wings. I wouldn’t claim that we were best friends, but the sense of being in the fire together that residency training instills in it’s interns and residents made us close in ways that I’ll never share with people I met after I finished my education.
I was there when he met his future wife. I stayed on to do fellowship, another 3 year slog. He became faculty and his talents in education led him to an ideal position. We saw each other relatively few times a year, but he was always interested in what I was up to. We were teammates against the residents in Medical Jeopardy, and his enthusiasm was contagious.
Physicians have a stressful life. Stressful job. We see things and are told things that are so removed from most people’s experiences that it seems at times you’re in a movie. But even Hollywood wouldn’t portray some of the issues we deal with. Job burnout is a huge issue. Depression. Substance abuse.
Suicide.
There were some issues he’d dealt with--public things. They moved for a job to another part of the country. Dream job, from the description. But they came back. Their extended family was here, and it can be hard to leave for somewhere that has no built in support. I was glad to hear he was back. He was a great teacher and superb physician. We were lucky to have him around.
If you’d lined up our class from twenty years ago and said, pick out the 30% of you that will suffer from clinical depression I would have put him in the tiny group labeled: will never have a problem. If you’d told me to pick out the 10% that would have suicidal ideations, I’d have left him at the end of the line. He counselled us about the dangers of silence. Watched over his residents like a hawk. Promoted Grand Rounds on the troubling topic of Physician Suicide. We tell people to talk to someone. Reach out. Don’t be silent. He knew what to do; how to seek help.
But he didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t ask. Didn’t show the hurt or the pain that we didn’t know he was feeling.
Instead, he planned it out. Had to, as he didn’t own a gun. Went to a store the week before and purchased a weapon. A secret that not one of the people in his life knew about.
Then, he waited. Waited until one night his family was sleeping, safe and snug. He got up and went into their garage. Alone, except for his new gun. And I don’t know what he thought about as he held that piece of metal in his hands before he raised it up and took his own life. Was there ever a moment that he really considered how irretrievable this action would be? Did he never think for one second about asking someone for help? Any of us would have laid down whatever we were doing and listened. Helped in any way we could. But that’s the thing about being in a place so dark, as he must have been in. There’s no light to see your way out. No light to see that there’s an option.
I don’t have a perfect life. I’m overweight. My house is a total mess. I forget to send my nephews and nieces birthday cards. I don’t talk to my parents as often as I should. I don’t get to write like I used to, and my job is demanding. No, it’s not perfect. But it’s my life, and it’s ok. And I promise myself that if I ever find that I’m surrounded by darkness, I’ll reach out blindly. Grasp someone. Talk. Get help. Someone out there will light a path for me.
I’d do the same for you.
Because no matter how dark it might be, the sun still is shining down somewhere on this little planet. And no matter how bad things might seem to be at the time, there is a way past it. Don’t carry the burden alone: there’s plenty of us around to shoulder a little of the weight. We want to help. The world wouldn’t be the same without you in it. So, please, remember we’re here if you need us. And remember to be kind to everyone you meet. You don’t know what they’re dealing with in their lives, but by showing love and kindness you’ll add a little sunshine to their day--something that we all need.
Let me give you a summary of my day so far. Pin your ears back.
Background: have been on vacation for 10 days and was camping in trailer at a campground about 1 hour east of Indianapolis. Now, hold on for the rest:
-Stayed at camper due to my changeover calling late and therefore wouldn't get home until very late in day. Thought, what the heck, I'll just get up early in the morning.
-Got up early in the morning (5:30), showered, finished trailer prep to leave it for a few weeks as I'm working this weekend. Closed it all up, loaded Bruce (my truck, a Ford F250 Superduty) and prepared to drive straight to work from campground.
-Bruce wouldn't ignite. Light said battery. Was cranking, but nothing happened. Tried multiple times, no luck. No one to jump me.
-Called free Ford Roadside assistance. They said they'd contact someone to come out and jump me. At 7:48am I got a text that the company coming to jump me was from Gas City, IN. Which is a good 90 miles away from where I was. The estimated time of arrivial was 9:45am.
-Tow truck arrived at 9:30am. He brought jumper box to truck, connected it and asked me to start it. I turned ignition and truck cranked but didn't catch. Continued to try it, when suddenly guy yells: "stop, stop, stop." I stopped.
-Guy says "it's not your battery. You have gas spewing all over the place." My jaw dropped to ground. He grabbed a flashlight and I got a ladder for him. He found that the main fuel line had been chewed up be a rodent.
-Tow truck guy informs me that he can't actually tow me, as my truck is too big. Tells me to request a flatbed tow. He leaves.
-I call another towing company, tell them what first guy said. They say they'll be with me in about 30 minutes.
-Flatbed tow truck arrives. Man looks at truck, then at positioning of it, and informs me that he can't get my truck on the flatbed and that it's too large. Wonders why I asked for flatbed, and I tell him what first guy said. He says it's nonsense, and that he'll go get another truck and be back in about 40 minutes.
-I consider how best to murder squirrels.
-I call nearest Ford dealership, which turns out to be in Anderson, IN and tell them that I'm having Bruce towed there and why.
-Jeff and Amanda (BIL and sister) arrive to help. I ask them to take me to Anderson, once I get a tow truck.
-Third tow truck arrives, and is able to get Bruce up off the rear wheel and heads off to AutoWorld of Anderson.
-We follow, I get Bruce signed into the service department, they tell me it won't be covered under warranty. Not surprised. They say they'll call me later. I ask about car rental place; Enterprise just down the road they say.
-Jeff and Amanda drive me to Enterprise. Zero cars available. "We can get you in one tomorrow," says the bright young man. Like that'll help. It's now noon.
-I consider the merits of owning my own fox to eat squirrels with.
-Jeff and Amanda drive me back to Indy. I make reservation at another Enterprise for a full sized car to be picked up at noon. Jeff tells me to use the one on Michigan road. I make reservation online.
-I remember that my garage parking permit is still in my truck once we're on road. Parking costs about $20/day otherwise. I curse, not for the first time of the day. And not for the last.
-Arrive at Enterprise on Michigan road. Walk in and discover we're at the wrong one.
-Drive to right one. Walk in and discover, unlike the previous 2 locations, that there is a line. I'm 4th in line.
-70 year old woman right before me in line finally gets up to clerk. He asks for her credit card. She doesn't have one. Debit card? Nope. She asks if she can write a check. He says no. She has no card with her. Her car is in shop, after being hit. No one with her. Clerk asks if her spouse could come get her. We all learn he's dead. She's in tears, I'm nearly in tears. I end up offering her a ride, if and when I get a car, but her son is going to come get her.
-I get up to clerk, who says in an incredulous voice "You just made this reservation an hour ago?" Yep. I did. "Well, we don't have any cars. All we have are minivans or full size SUVS." Which of course cost way extra. I could give a rip right now, just get me a car.
-She walks me out to a minivan.
-It smells.
-But, it runs.
-I finally, finally, finally get to work at 2pm. Just in time for a meeting. My colleagues very kindly tell me to go to meeting and go home, which was very nice of them.
-Ford dealership calls me just as meeting is ending. "Good news and, well...." I sigh. Good news is whatever chewed up the fuel line didn't snack on anything else. The bad news is that they don't have it in stock and it'll take a few days to freight it, which oh, by the way will cost you an extra $40. Total of $_ _ _._ _.
-I consider driving somewhere no one knows me and just starting a new life.
-After meeting I go to my office to send email to parking to ask if I can get a temporary permit. I discover my 2 office computers completely dead and won't turn on.
-Of course.
-My secretary is able to get one working.
-My cell phone battery is getting low. Go to plug it in with the one single charger I have (it is a USB C connection, which is very rare) and realize I left the damn thing IN MY TRUCK
-I seriously contemplate running away
-send email to parking. No response. Had called them earlier, after I got rental and was on hold for 1 hour and 8 minutes before I hung up.
-Get paged by lab with results of a test on a baby I saw 2 weeks ago. Not good news (though also not immediately fatal, just a chronic disease that obviously no one wants their child to have). Call parents, who refuse to believe it and are doing prayer vigil for a miraculous cure. I ask them to hope for the best, but that we must prepare for the worst.
I have yet to get home to my house. I feel fairly confident it will have collapsed in my absence while I was on vacation, or sprouted a leak in the roof or a burst pipe. Something.
I was so disgusted by the sentence handed down in the Stanford rape case, and so amazed by the victim’s statement. It’s easily found on the internet, and I encourage every single person to read it.
For some reason, I decided to read some of the comments on the national story. I expected outrage over the light sentence–and there was, from both men and women. But there were a disturbing number of men who defended the guy. Said that since she was unconscious, she can’t remember whether she consented or not. That maybe she’d said yes, then passed out. Their message was that it was impossible to prove she didn’t accede–she still has no memory of the event–therefore he isn’t guilty.
What not one of these men considers is that this argument can certainly be extended. What if this swimmer, this Brock Turner, had been the one who was unconscious? What if some other man had taken him out behind a dumpster, pulled down his jeans and penetrated him? What if that man had been caught, had gone to trial? Could he not use the same argument? Do you believe that if the rapist in my scenario were found guilty, like Brock Turner, that he’d be given a 6 month county jail sentence? Would that seem fair to everyone? Brock might say he’d never consent to homosexual sex, I suppose, but can he prove that? How can we know?
We know because, as the victim in this case states so well, no one asks to go behind a dumpster to have sex. No one who becomes unresponsive during intimate activities should be considered fair game. Even if there was consent, it’s done, over and moot if your partner is incapacitated. Find a sex doll if you want your partner to just lay there, unmoving. I’m sure you can find one online or in an adult store.
This victim blaming game has to stop. And we all need to be a part of stopping it. What that boy–for he is no man–did was reprehensible. What that judge did was incomprehensible. What we can do is to shine like the beacon that she mentions at the end. We should accept no less.
If you follow me, then I don’t even have to explain the title of this post. I’ve not been as active a participant in the social media campaign as many people have due to work, but I’m there with you in spirit. I’ve read some very thoughtful and heartfelt explanations of how we all feel about the direction the show is/has taken. It seems to fall on deaf ears unless you’re one of us to begin with.
I’m older than many in the fandom. So old, in fact, that I watched Moonlighting when it originally aired. I was a fan of that show; a show that was quite clever for the time and irreverent on many topics. The sexual tension between the leads drove the plot and became a real interest to many fans wanting them to be together. As is well documented, the two leads did not get along. Ultimately, the show lost it’s main leader then completely mishandled the relationship of the 2 main characters. This lead to a major ratings decline and the very unsatisfactory ending of the show. Sound familiar, to some degree? Guess which network this occurred on?
Ding, ding, ding. ABC.
For years afterwards, people talked of a “Moonlighting curse” that would result if you put two characters together, ignoring the reality that was the atrocious plotting of the end of Moonlighting (in desperate attempts to lure viewers back) as well as the clear success of many TV couples. Getting two people together is not a death knell for a show. Bad writing and plotting will kill it, however.
And so we come to the end of our beloved show. I’ve never been invested in a character quite as much as Kate Beckett. The nuances that SK brought to the show brought Kate Beckett alive in ways that few actors ever achieve. Great writing and interesting plot development was just as key, but it was the performance that truly made KB resonate with us. She was human in a way that few fictional portrayals are allowed to become. Strength, grace, and elegance all in the face of tragedy and obstacles. I see things in Kate Beckett that I admire, things that I aspire to, and things that remind me of my own life.
Whatever the cause of the changes in Castle, it is clear that the writing and production team changed how they presented Kate to us--certainly in this current season, but also in the last season as well. I would argue that it really began with the ridiculous concept of her previous marriage, but I’m sure we all have our own opinions on the moment when things changed.
I never imagined after the ending of Moonlighting that a debacle so ridiculous and embarrassing to its network would occur again--surely all of Hollywood had learned a valuable lesson in terms of losing its fanbase. Certainly ABC had. Right?
I guess we know the answer to that question.
Stana has the ability and the financial security (assuming she’s not wasted it, which doesn’t seem to be in keeping with what we know of her) to do whatever she wants. Projects she believes in. I wish her every success. I’ll continue to follow her career. I just can’t fathom ever finding a TV show that spoke to me quite the way Castle did. I hate that the death throes of its ending has left so many of us injured and heartsick. I’m grateful we have social media to let our opinion be heard by whoever may be listening as well as a way to support each other. I know I’m not alone in how I feel, which is comforting. And frustrating, since TPTB are ignoring us.
In any case, thank you all for being part of my Castle family. For the amazing artwork and incredible stories that have sprung forth from our love of these two characters. Thanks to the people from all over the world who’ve become my friends. You guys are the best, and I really hope that no matter what happens that we can maintain this community and continue to bring new stories to life long after our show has ended.
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It was never going to last forever--at least on TV. That’s easy to say, but it doesn’t change the fact that the way things have proceeded have sucked (big time) for us fans.
Castle started out with a relative star, a veteran actor with a built in fanbase, and a supporting cast of actors most had never heard of. The magic of the writing led us to care about the supporting cast as we learned their backstories and saw the close knit family on screen develop before our eyes. Stana Katic went from a complete unknown into an actress with great command of her craft. She imbued her Beckett with such grace and strength that most of us couldn’t help but come to see her as important to the show as Nathan Fillion. They were fantastic on the screen; beautiful people that we felt could be our friends. And they fired our creativity, as stories poured forth in the fan fiction world about this amazing couple. This show was the reason I started writing.
Sadly, as the seasons went by, it became obvious there was a problem behind the scenes. Fillion and Katic stopped doing promotional work together. Rumors flew that they didn’t get along well. I’ve never been one to pay too much attention to the private lives of stars--I feel it’s not really any of my business, and what we are told is often released by PR people trying to spin an image one way or the other. But, it seemed to affect the show, which disappointed me greatly. To the point that the creative force behind the entire production left. To me, this was truly the signal that what we had come to know and love was gone, once Andrew Marlowe and Terri Edda moved away from what was, in actuality, their story.
We were given an eighth season, but the story line devolved into what most fans would term a disaster--just when we’d had a happy, loving couple they were torn apart by circumstances that seemed illogical and inconsistent with previous seasons and characterizations.
The ratings have sagged, previously loyal fans have been disenchanted and the prospects for renewal to a ninth season have been dim. Honestly, I’ve felt that it should be done. If--and I don’t really know anything, but this is what’s been bandied about--the two stars (for whatever reason) can’t be held to a professional standard to finish this show properly, then they need to end it. That’s my opinion. However, in a move that doesn’t surprise me whatsoever, Hollywood’s never ending quest to wring as much out of a dead show has led to what we found out about yesterday: they’ll bring it back, but without Stana.
Well, I’m done with it all. I’ve not been watching much of this current season anyway: I hate the Loksat crap and Caskett being apart, plus I’m busier than ever at work. I’ll still read fan fic. I’ll still dream of stories for Caskett and I’ll (hopefully) continue to write. The characters still inspire me. I fell in love with their romance; that’s not changed. We always knew there would come an end to the TV part of Castle and Beckett. That doesn’t mean it’s the end of their story.
In 1981 Donald Trump was 35 years old. I was 11. The age difference is important solely because at 35 years old, I expect that he was doing adult things and therefore very unlikely to have been paying attention to after school specials. I, however, was in middle school. And at some point in those innocent days I saw a movie that rocked me to the core. I've never forgotten the impact it had on me, nor did I ever imagine that it might be relevant in my adult life.
The movie was called "The Third Wave." It was based on a true event that occurred in 1967 in Palo Alto, California. A very popular history teacher, Ron Jones, was trying to teach his high school class about the rise of fascism and how the vast majority of otherwise ordinary Germans were caught up in the inhumanity spread by the Nazi party. Mr. Jones was aware that trying to reach high school students in that era of free love and Haight-Asbury was difficult, to say the least. So, he came up with an experiment.
I won't describe his methods in detail--the event is well documented elsewhere. However, he created--through strict discipline and his own charisma--a society called the Third Wave, which had it's own uniform, identity card, salute, rules of behavior, etc. He created it initially just for his history class of 30; by the end there were over 200 members. And how long did this go on? Four days. Four. Four days is all it took for these kids to be altered profoundly--even reporting on their own comrades to Mr. Jones if someone failed to abide by the rules. Four days. Imagine that.
Fearing the experiment had spiraled out of control, Mr. Jones explained to his students that the Third Wave was actually a national movement, and that together they were going to nominate a presidential candidate. He ordered them to report to the gym the next day to hear a message from their candidate.
They complied.
However, when they were all seated, he turned on a TV in the middle of the gym....and waited. Some empty minutes later, he turned it off and explained that they had been in an experiment of fascism--which in the space of four days had willingly created a society not unlike in Germany in the years leading up to WWII.
I couldn't help but be shocked at how quickly these kids fell into this 'society.' No one ever knows how they'll react to a situation until you find yourself in it. But whenever I've reflected on what that movie taught me, I vowed that I'd never stand idly by and let such a movement take over without protest. That I'd never be caught up in such a fervor to belong that I allowed basic human rights to fall by the wayside.
Perhaps Mr. Trump is aware of this experiment. Maybe he saw the movie at some point in his life. It did win several awards. It's possible at the end of the party nominations he'll take the podium and announce that the entire country has just shown the world that we must continue to stand tall against fascism, and that his entire campaign has just been one big experiment that exposed the ugly truth.
Sadly, I don't really believe this, though I'd prefer this outcome to the reality. I've had some interesting discussions with people this week about politics. I've heard how much people dislike and distrust Hilary Clinton. I do not pretend that she is ideal. There are many facets of her political life that I do not admire or even strongly dislike.
However, at no point during any campaign rally for Clinton have reporters been choked. No teenage protesters have been shoved out of a rally. No hate groups have instructed their members to vote for her. She has not been endorsed by the KKK.
This is it, America. Donald Trump, by virtue of his silence, has encouraged the rise into the light of the darkest evil. Hatred of those different from them--be it Blacks, Asians, Muslims, or Latinos is now regularly spewed forth by his rabid supporters. He calls on the forced removal of those not native to this country, apparently forgetting two of his three wives have been immigrants.
It's time to stand up to this rhetoric. We are better than this. Whether you identify as Republican or Democrat or Libertarian or Green--this is the time to take a stand. We will not tolerate the rise of fascism in this country. We will not applaud this man's hate filled speeches. We will not fall for his slick promises that will divide us forever and bring the judgement of the world to bear.
So I just wanted to stop by and tell you how much I loved Fractus. It really helped me get through a tough time and I wanted to say thank you so much. Do you think you could write an insert scene, where Castle finds the Burke's card and the suicide hotline on the back?
I wrote Fractus for several reasons, though at the forefront, as mentioned in my last chapter, due to our family having had to deal with my cousin’s suicide. It’s a subject that is often buried; hidden from polite society. People suffer in silence, afraid of being perceived as being needy or unable to deal with stress. Our society does a horrible job of supporting those that need it the most. Just this week, we’ve had a Grand Rounds whose subject was Physician Suicide, and I’ve been involved in the care of a teenager who’s made 5 serious attempts to kill herself, all unsuccessful thankfully, but at a high personal and family cost.
I’m very sorry you’ve had a tough go of it recently. I wasn’t expecting the response Fractus received--if anything I thought it might be too dark for most people to take on. However, I was floored and humbled by the cascade of PMs I’ve received from so many who’ve either made suicide attempts, seriously considered it, or had family members who did so. It’s truly amazing that people share their stories with me, and I cherish the fact that this story has opened a dialogue between us.
I’m not writing anything right now--my job is too busy trying to kill me and it takes all I’ve got to devote to keeping my head above the water. It will slow down, eventually. I pray. And once it does, you can be sure I’ll be thinking about this message and the prompt. Thank you so much.
Hey! So I discovered Surviving Paradise, and I've spent the last week reading this incredible story. I so badly didn't want to finish it because I wasn't prepared to say goodbye to Rick and Kate and their island home and all the other characters and my feels are all over the place and my heart is just full and wow. You created an amazing universe; the atmosphere of the story; the detail; the tone and how carefully crafted it was made me fall in love. Thank you. (looking forward to the sequel!)
Oh, how I adore getting nice messages like this. I’m so glad you found it and liked it. I loved writing it, and certainly hope to get some of the sequel out later this year. Thank you for the motivation!
Friend, please, I'm begging you, any estimate as to the release of the surviving paradise sequel?
It’s probably going to be a series of chapters grouped together rather than one big sequel. Mainly because I’m never going to have time to do a sequel.
Unless I win Powerball.
Thanks for the interest, and sorry I didn’t answer very quickly. It’s winter, and that’s when my life becomes work almost 24/7.
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This is from my facebook post today. I’ve redacted last names, though I doubt any of my tumblr/twitter followers actually know any of my real life friends. Still, best to be safe, right?
Friends, you almost lost me today. Twice. And you won't be wrong if you're picturing me in front of my laptop with a frosty alcoholic root beer to my right side as I type this. Cheers.
So, the week on service was brutal. I did nothing but work my ass off every single day. Which meant I got zero done on the schedule. So, on Saturday I mostly slept and recovered.
Sunday, I had no choice but to go in to the office. I got there around 11am and worked very productively until 8:15pm. I was out of insulin for Marley, so arranged to pick some up at the vet on the way home. As I turned into my subdivision off of Lafayette's 4 busy lanes of traffic, I came to an abrupt stop when I saw 2 large dogs in the middle of the road.
I lost sight of them, so got out of the truck to investigate. They were both lab mixes and quite elderly, with grayed muzzles and they were very, very well fed. They both had collars but no tags. They very much wanted in my truck, but it's hard for humans to get into, let alone elderly, arthritic dogs. One brown one, which was 100 pounds if not more, and a black one. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to wrangle these enormous dogs into my truck. It just was not happening. I even tried flagging down help when people came driving in, but I guess they just thought I was being friendly and would wave back at me. No one stopped.
So, I finally gave up on the idea of getting them in the truck--it's now like 9pm on a Sunday night. They kept wandering close to Lafayette, and I pictured how anguished I'd be if I saw their lifeless bodies on the side of the road today. So, I got in the truck and kept calling them to follow me. As they lumbered along at a pace just above a snail, I wondered if they'd even make it that far (about 1/4 mile) and what on earth I was going to do with them.
But, make it we did. I got them fastened in my backyard, let out a sigh of relief--safe at last--and set about trying to find a number to someone in the neighborhood who could help. No luck with the numbers, so I hopped in my truck and drove over to Kim's house. Felt terrible for bothering them so late, but I figured she'd know what to do. Decided we'd take them to vet today to see if they were microchipped and she also contacted homeowner's board (which she sits on, handily enough). I drove back home with a plan: they'd stay in my backyard for the night. It wasn't below freezing, so I figured it'd be fine.
Well, after I fed them it started raining, which set my heart to feeling guilty. They wanted in, but had barked at my blind, diabetic dog--so no way were they coming in with her. So, I moved them into the laundry room. The black one, who is relatively spry, came in without any problem, but the giant brown one stood at the bottom of the one step to the house and acted like I was trying to make it into a mountain goat. He wouldn't budge. Finally with some pulling and cursing, I managed to haul him inside. They settled down for the night, and honestly didn't bark or do anything to make me nervous.
So, I woke up this morning, got myself and Marley all ready and opened the laundry door where black dog was all eager to go outside. Brown dog was lying down. Hmm. Odd. C'mon, get up. Nothing. Finally take black dog out and put him behind the fence and return for brown dog, who still won't stand. The 100 pound behemoth won't stand. Just great. I get a towel around the back legs and heave the back end up into the air, but the front paws are all splayed out wrong and he can't stand. We try this a few times, me picturing my back in traction, but it's not working. So, I scoot the damn thing over to the threshold to the outside door, get the front paws braced against this, towel around the back end, leash on the collar, held tight in left hand (this is an important detail). Heaving, sweating, cursing I raise the back end once more with much effort, and finally...FINALLY....we're standing on all 4 paws. I'm still holding up the back end as he stands there mutely contemplating the yawning abyss of ONE step down to the garage floor. I push, hoist, heave and tug to get him going when with a mighty lurch he suddenly launches himself down the step.
Remember the leash? Well, I didn't. Until I was yanked down the damn step with the giant dog. I lost a shoe in the process, skinned my right leg and foot up with blood and nearly rammed my head full on into the wheel well of the Durango. In the process, of course, I let go of the damned leash. This was the first time I was nearly ended today.
Limping bloody footprints over the yard, I now chased the suddenly spry brown dog all over my yard as neighbors cheerily waved hello at me as they drove to work. The damn dog, leash trailing behind, eluded me for another ten minutes before I caught it and took it to join it's friend in the backyard. Needless to say, in the process of putting the brown dog in the fence, the black one promptly escaped, ran straight to a black tub full of dirt and water in my driveway (don't ask) and JUMPED into it, all 4 paws. It was like a cannonball. I grabbed it's collar, hauled it to the gate, let go, and repeated THE SAME STEPS above (tub, splash, curse--from me--three more times. At some point, it's giant muddy paw came down squarely on--you guessed it--my injured right foot and left behind a perfect pawprint. CSI could have taken a mold if so inclined.
Eventually, I got both dogs behind the fence and climbed gingerly into my truck for the long ride to work, where I begged for ibuprofen from Nadia. Today was day one of our new Cerner EMR, so the entire day was frustrating and busy. Not fun all by itself, but when your day starts out like mine did, well, you think it can't get worse.
On way home tonight, I called Robby for some advice about the dogs--she thought checking for microchip was good idea. Kim, rock that she is, offered to drive me and my new 'friends' to humane shelter on Michigan. We had to heave/hoist brown dog into the back of her Trailblazer and drove to shelter where, miracle upon miracle, they were chipped. We then waited inside shelter (dogs stayed in car whole time--worker came out to scan them, as we didn't think we'd get brown back in without a crane) for about 20 minutes, before hearing the joyous news that the owner was on the phone. I talked to him, got directions to his house and we left the shelter in a great mood--until we saw the car, which had been so steamed up I thought that it was a scene from the Titanic. Opened doors, to find brown dog had somehow jumped up into the driver's seat! More pushing/pulling to get him into passenger seat so Kim could drive, while I rode in back with black dog.
Safely delivered to owner, who insisted on giving me $20, despite me saying no repeatedly. So, a Christmas miracle a little early.
Then, I drove to join Andee at Famous Dave's for a belated birthday dinner for her. Joined by Erica, Jeffrey, Amanda and Maizee. They'd been group texting all day about the plans. I'd texted them this morning a picture of the 2 stray dogs and said "I have a surprise." Then, was too busy to explain, but planned to do so tonight. I got to restaurant, we ordered, and I launched into my story. Then, Jeff related Amanda's reaction to my text earlier. Apparently, her mind had seen these dogs and my words to mean that Marley was dead, that I hadn't told them she was dead, and had then gone out and replaced her with 2 elderly dogs and this was my way of announcing it. She cried and cried all day, lamenting that she didn't even know their names. And while watching TV today, there was a scene where the family loses their pet hamster. She sobbed out that it was "too soon" and asked Jeff to skip that part. He offered to bring her to my house to peek in the windows and see if Marley were somehow still alive, but she refused. As he told this story, I was laughing so hard at his imitations of her piteous cries that I nearly aspirated my iced tea. This was the second time y'all nearly lost me today.
Anyway, wanted to share, and while this was a very long story, I hope some of you enjoy my Monday tale of woe. Just remember when you're having a bad day/string of bad luck: you could have it worse. You could always be me.
Kate thought she’d covered all possible bases when she’d laid down the rules for her bachelorette party to Lanie. She’d had no idea just how sneaky her friend could be....
Again, read only if you’re ok with smutty, sexy times. Two shot, now complete.
Stepping off the elevator, the corridor stretches into the distance in front of her. Wooden legs propel her forward, past monolith after monolith until she finally reaches the one whose numbers match that he'd texted her thirty minutes ago.
A pale hand rises into her vision as she reaches to knock on the door. Arrested in the act, she stares at her fist as it visibly shakes. What the hell is she doing? She doesn't know this man. And yet, here she stands. Ready to knock on a hotel door, enter, and have sex with a complete stranger.
Dropping her hand, she pivots and begins pacing the long hall. She'd blame Lanie if asked—she had been the one to put the app on her phone, after all. But she can't lie to herself. Lanie's an excuse.
She's here because of her own failures.
The ten year anniversary hadn't exactly snuck up on her—she thinks about her mother every day, after all. But the stark reminder that it's been a decade with no progress with the case had twisted something within her. Each month since she'd felt a pressure mounting.
Nothing relieved it. She'd punished herself by working longer, harder, faster. She fell into bed exhausted each night, only to lie there gritting her teeth as the litany of her deficiencies tolled through her head.
She's close to a breaking point. Casual sex won't fix her life—she has no illusions on that front—but the release might give her some time.
Lanie had tried setting her up. Three memorable disasters later—topped by a man who checked in with his mommy every half hour—and even her friend had admitted that she was out of ideas.
Save for one: the Hook Up app.
And Kate cannot deny that the idea of someone completely anonymous is very appealing. No complications with work. No expectations of a relationship that she can't meet. It's the perfect solution for where she is in her life currently. Which is why she'd opened the account that Lanie had made for her earlier tonight. Why she'd answered the first call she'd received. Why she'd agreed to meet the man, whose friendly chatter over the phone had somehow relaxed her. Made her think this was a great plan.
Right up until the moment where it's all about to become real.
Really real.
But, if she chickens out, she's still stuck where she's already been. Huffing out a deep breath, she whips out her phone and sends a quick text to Lanie, letting her know where she is in case something goes dramatically off the rails. Straightening her shoulders, she eyes the door. She'd told this Rick earlier that she'd help him forget his problems.
In the process, she plans to forget hers as well.
A sharp knock on the door snaps his head up from where it'd been resting in his hands. He skips to the door, but manages to stop before flinging it open and just grabbing her. He'd seen her pacing, through the peephole. It won't do to send her running before he's even kissed her.
He takes a deep breath and a welcoming smile erupts when he opens the door to her. God, she's beautiful. Short, almost spiky, brown hair coupled with penetrating hazel eyes. She's wearing a smart trench coat that gapes open to show tight fitting jeans paired with a deep red blouse that complements her coloring. He feels his cock twitch at the sight. He wants this woman, badly.
"You must be Kate. I'm Rick. Come in, come in." He stands aside to let her pass. For a brief moment she just stands there and he feels his stomach tighten. She gives him a searching look, then releases a pent up sigh and walks into the room.
Closing the door, he decides not to put on the chain. He wants her to feel as though she has a way out and clanging the security locks in place won't help matters. Taking another deep breath, he relaxes his muscles from top to bottom before turning to face her. She's staring at the bed, tension radiating from her.
"May I take your coat?"
She starts, then looks at him with a sharp glance. "Oh, um, yeah. Here," she hands it to him after shrugging out of it with an unconscious grace that does nothing to keep his arousal in check.
"Listen, Kate, I know you have to be pretty nervous about this…situation," he tries for a casual tone while hanging her coat in the closet. "I am too, to be honest. I just want to reassure you we won't do anything that you don't want to. Why don't you have a seat," he motions to the small settee placed against one wall, "I've got a very nice 2008 Chateau Ducru Beaucaillou on ice. Would you like a glass?"
"Yes, please," is her faint reply.
"Cheers," he taps her glass after handing it to her. He's rewarded with an eye roll for his cheekiness, but it's followed in short order by a moan of pleasure as she takes her first sip of the wine. His glass shakes violently at the noise as he crushes the glass in his grip.
He can't wait to hear her moan like that when she's beneath him.
"Do you like it?" he sits next to her on the settee, careful not to crowd her.
Her eyes are shut, savoring the flavors. "Yes. Very much."
"It's one of my favorites. Can you make out the fruits?"
Her eyes pop open and she gives him a searching look before taking another sip. "Um, that is so good. It tastes like blackberries. And something else…"
"Well done. Yes, oak and boysenberries too."
They both take a few more sips in silence, and his heart is thumping so loudly he's afraid she'll hear and be even more nervous. Tipping his glass back, he gulps a few more times. Which is a travesty—a crime, really—as this wine is meant to be savored, not swallowed whole.
"What now?" her words break into his reverie, and a lightness fills his chest as he sees that she's now sitting back, turned slightly into him.
"You know what I said to you on the phone, Kate." She nods. "I'm looking to forget for a while. But it doesn't have to be anything more than the two of us sitting here, enjoying a terrific glass of wine together."
She arches an eyebrow at him. "Really? If I told you that I'd changed my mind—that I want to leave now—you'd have no problem? You'd let me go, just like that?"
"Yes." He makes his word firm, eyes locked on hers. She nods, a slow graceful arc through the air and he's filled with the need to trace his lips along that beautiful jaw.
"Ok." She stands, and his heart plummets. He can't believe she's leaving. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head back against the couch. What a waste of a hotel room.
"Aren't you coming?"
"What?" Snapping his eyes open, he sees her standing next to the bed, shoes already kicked off. Jumping up, he just stares at her as she regards him with another raised eyebrow. He loves her expressions. Even as relative strangers, he's been able to read her face so far. He can't wait to see her with a glow of passion shining at him. "I thought you were leaving."
She tilts her head to one side, and he's undone by her once more. "I'm not leaving. I need this, too. Just wanted to hear what you'd say if I changed my mind."
He takes a step towards her. "You were testing me?"
"I guess," she shrugs.
He closes in, looming over her now that she's out of her heels. "You won't regret this."
She's silent, but her eyes challenge him to prove it. Unable to resist her anymore, he lowers his lips to hers and finally tastes her.
He's quite certain he won't regret anything, either.
The kiss is gentle, and nothing about this is happening the way she'd expected. His lips are intoxicating, tasting of the wine and the promise of more to come. He pulls back and looks at her, blue eyes darkening with desire.
"Are you sure about this?"
She reaches for his shirt in answer, unbuttoning the top buttons before his hand grips hers. "There's no rush, Kate. We've got all night."
His sheer bulk dwarfs her smaller frame, and damn if that doesn't make her racing heart beat even faster. She feels the heat rising off her skin as he leans down to kiss her again.
His lips caress hers, a faint echo of what she'd seen in his eyes. Pressing back, she runs her tongue along the seam of his mouth, teasing and tantalizing until with a groan he releases her hands and pulls her tight against him as his tongue plunders.
She can feel his heart thumping through his chest when they finally part, panting. His mouth moves to her jaw, and she tilts her head back to give him better access. She can't help the moan that escapes when he finishes tracing her jaw and drops to her neck.
Her blood is singing, rushing through every nook and cranny of her body. She's alive, crackling and tingling in ways she's never felt before. If this is how he makes her feel just by kissing her, she's not sure she'll survive the rest of the night.
But, oh, what a way to go.
His heavy arousal is obvious, even through their clothes. Hands tangled around his neck, she slips back far enough to retake his mouth. One of his hands slides up her ribs and brushes the underside of her breast.
Just that little touch sends an electric spark straight to her center. The heat builds, along with the throbbing need to be closer. She reaches down for him, impatient for all the barriers between them to be gone.
"Not yet," he stops her just as she's got his zipper open.
Kate frowns. "What do you mean?"
He smiles, leaning in close to whisper in her ear, "We're gonna do this my way, Kate. I'm gonna make you lose your mind."
He takes her hands in his and moves them to rest at her side. "Let me?" His voice breathes in her ear, breath scorching a path along her skin. She nods, unable to think, let alone speak, as his lips resume their exploration of her neck.
She'd pictured this encounter in her mind when they'd agreed to meet; imagined what it'd be like to meet a perfect stranger for the sole purpose of mutual satisfaction.
Her assumption had been that'd it be hot and fast. Two people needing release coming together in a quick coupling, then parting ways once their lust was slaked.
Clearly Rick has other ideas. His lips finish with her neck and he begins to unbutton her blouse, one button at a time. He thoroughly explores the newly revealed skin, his lips and fingertips leaving a burning trail across her chest as the throbbing in her core builds until she's lost in a heated haze.
Once he's reached the waistband of her jeans, he slips the sleeves of the blouse down her arms, as if unwrapping a fragile package. She's mesmerized by his eyes—deep, dark pools of blue that roam over her upper body, now only clad in the lacy bra she'd put on earlier.
He lifts his hands to her breasts and she watches them move towards her, nipples hardening in anticipation. She can feel moisture building, almost dripping from her core. She's never been this wet in her life while still mostly dressed.
His hands reach their goal, cupping her breasts while he leans in for another long kiss that leaves her gasping for air. When he's satisfied with her lips, he turns his attention to her breasts. His thumbs rub over her nipples in a gentle circle that nearly sends her to the floor as her legs buckle.
He steadies her by dropping one hand to her waist and pulling her into his bulk. She breathes in his musky scent as her pounding heart thumps against his hard chest.
"Lean back," he murmurs as he lowers her to the bed. Somehow he's managed to undo her bra, removing it with as much care as he had her blouse. He stretches out next to her side and shoots her a feral grin before licking his lips in slow, wet strokes as he stares greedily at her chest.
It's enough to send electric jolts shooting through her body. All of her senses are in overdrive, body straining towards his as his head moves closer and closer to her left breast.
The heat of his breath as he pauses just above her washes over her, all sparks now coaxed into a conflagration. She's about to spontaneously combust when his tongue licks over her nipple and she screams instead of bursting into flame.
White hot throbs rush through her with every swirl of his tongue, until she's writhing beneath his expert ministrations. She mewls in protest when his mouth leaves her breasts, only to gasp again as he slides his tongue like a magma trail flowing down to her waist.
She trembles when his fingers fumble with the fastenings to her jeans. He peels them off, standing up at the side of the bed to slip them off her feet. Giving her a long look, he reaches with deliberate slowness to slide her panties down and off.
Her legs spasm as he holds them closed. The ache between them is like nothing she's ever experienced before. "I'm gonna let go of you for a minute. Can you hold still?" She nods, hesitant. Unsure of what he's about to do and wanting nothing more than to pull him down onto and into her, she watches as he strips. Her mouth waters as the well-muscled physique she's felt through his clothes is finally revealed.
When he turns back to her, she nearly comes from the flood of desire that surges through her. His is a body that fits all of her fantasies. Taller than her, with breadth and bulk in all the right places.
And, oh, is he well endowed.
"Are you ready for this?" he drawls, trailing a finger up the outside of her nearest leg. The lazy path it traces up her calf takes her breath away. Nothing else exists outside of the two of them.
She can't think of the question.
His finger reaches her knee and moves inexorably higher.
Had there been a question?
"Remember, no moving," he growls, as he bends over and begins by caressing and kissing his way up her legs. He starts at her ankles, and initially keeps her legs pinned together, despite her moans of protest.
By the time he finally—finally!—pulls her thighs apart and starts exploring closer and closer to her dripping center she's throbbing with need.
"You're definitely ready for me, aren't you?" he rumbles as he approaches the top of her thigh.
"Not gonna—can't last," she pants, head and back arching off the bed as she tries to be still.
"I just need a little something to savor." His whispered words are almost incomprehensible over the rushing blood pounding through her ears. She feels him part her folds and tenses for the first contact, but when nothing happens she manages to peer down. He's lying between her legs, hands holding her apart. His eyes capture hers, hypnotizing her. His tongue flickers out, almost but not quite tasting her. She can feel her orgasm building, and he's not even touched her yet. He grins at her, a smirk that he's earned.
And then his tongue flickers out again, this time rasping up her clit in a slow lick that sends her heart rate skyrocketing as she forgets to breathe. Waves of pleasure wash through her as he slakes up and down a few more times until her world explodes in a white burst and she's carried away on the receding tide.
When she opens her eyes again, he's lying next to her stroking her hair from her face.
"Did you like that?"
"Wasn't it obvious?"
He chuckles. "Yeah, it was fairly obvious. But I'm disappointed."
She can do little more than raise one eyebrow, still spent from his earlier efforts.
"You didn't scream when you came."
"I didn't?" She has no idea what had happened and doesn't have the energy to even think about it.
"Nope. But I think we'll manage it this time."
"This time?"
"This time. You have no idea," he leans down and captures her lips again.
Oh, god. She thinks she might not make it if there's much more this time. Lanie will at least know where to find her body.
Her blood begins to boil again as he plays her expertly. It takes very little time before he has her moaning and panting for more. And more.
Rolling on top of her, he positions his tip at her entrance. She's barely coherent, but manages to gasp, "Condom?"
"Already taken care of," he grins, then slowly pushes his way inside. "God, you're tight," he grits out, stilling for a second for her to stretch around him. She'd seen he was big, but this…this is more than she'd ever had before.
"You ok?"
She nods, and he slides back slowly as her walls flutter around him. She's already close, and as he strokes forward, filling her again. She's lost the ability to focus on anything but where they're connected, and the building pressure in her pelvis promises an explosion greater than anything she's experienced in the past.
Each stroke exceeds the last until there's nothing but the incredible feeling of him moving within her. She can hear her own keening moans in the distance as she nears her peak and it's all ready to erupt on the next unimaginable slow slide and, oh, she can't believe this is so amazing and wonderful and oh, god, it's going to be…
Nothing. He's stopped moving for some reason just before she came. Her eyes fly open to find him staring at her. He's buried within her, both of them gulping heaving breaths. She's confused, and a little annoyed and, yes, disappointed as she comes down from the near high he'd given her.
"What's the matter? I was almost there." Her voice is whiny even to her ears, but she was almost there. "Did you come already?" If that's the reason he's stopped, there's going to be a serious discussion—right after he finishes her.
"No."
No. No? "No? What the fuck?"
"Have you ever been edged before?"
"What? What are you talking about, and why are we having this discussion right now?"
He grins and shakes his head. "Trust me, you're gonna love it," and he leans down to kiss away her complaints before they can even leave her mouth.
After a few deep kisses, she's nearly forgotten the disappointment of a moment ago. When he starts moving his hips again she can't even remember there was anything ever besides their connection. Within two strokes she's even higher than she'd been before, and in the tiny remnant of her brain that isn't completely focused on how unbelievable this feels she knows he's driven her up onto a plane she didn't even know was possible.
The pressure is back, and now she's almost afraid that the resulting orgasm will be so powerful that she'll never be whole again. She can hear her own screaming, but there's nothing she can do about it. Every stroke is now like a throb of pure bliss that builds and builds, never completely stopping until she feels her whole pelvis ready to contract and explode like a supernova with the next thrust…
He stops. Again.
This time she knows what he's up to. And while she's nearly boneless, she's still not come and thus has enough energy to be mad. Really mad. Really really mad.
She hits him. In the shoulder: she doesn't want to hurt anything vital to her ultimate goal.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"What the actual fuck are you doing?"
"I told you. Edging." She must look quite angry and scary, as he starts babbling. "Orgasm control. It makes the final one like the most incredible orgasm you've ever had."
"It'd better. Cause if you keep building me up like this and then nothing, I will kill you."
He laughs, but it trails off when he sees that she's not kidding. "Ok, I won't stop this time, Kate, but I'm telling you that you're gonna thank me once you remember who you are again."
She starts to make a pithy comment, but he chooses to one up her by thrusting once more. Her witty response ends up as a groan which soon changes to a moan and then she's completely undone as he drives her past even the last plane she'd reached. This…this is pure ecstasy as every molecule he slides past stands up and sings in a chorus of bliss that sends her spiraling into the sky. And as he continues to move she feels her response building to something so far beyond an eruption and she has no idea what to expect but, oh my god it feels so beyond good she doesn't even have words for it and as he adds yet another long thrust forward she can feel her walls wildly thrumming and fluttering and, holy crap this is it and suddenly her core is vibrating as if through their movements they've actually created electricity that's now being….oh, god it releases into her and she feels herself explode with a physical thump and everything just…disappears…as she soars off past the moon and the stars.
He still has a huge, stupid grin on his face when he stumbles home much, much later. Kate had been everything he'd wanted and then some. He'd been attracted to her picture—she was a beautiful woman, after all. But something about her voice, and then meeting her in person, had sent his lust for her into high gear.
He wasn't sure what it was—perhaps her initial reluctance? Most of the time he had no need to work to get a woman in bed. She'd been a challenge, the first he'd had in a long time. Maybe that was why they'd been so fiery in bed together. He's slept with his share of beautiful women. Had his share of terrific sex. But last night had been something else entirely.
For both of them.
He was tempted to ask for her real name and number, reluctant to leave this encounter as a one night stand. And he thinks she would have given them to him, as she'd been as blown away by their electric compatibility just as he had.
But, in the end he'd held his tongue. He'd gotten what he'd come for; so had she. No need to complicate matters with pathetic attempts to try and replicate this incredible night.
Likely they'd have failed miserably, and been left with regrets and acrimony.
No, it was better to keep this encounter a cherished memory. At least that's what he keeps telling himself every night as he lies awake reliving it all moment by magical moment.
After a week he's searching the Hook Up app for her picture again, but she's never online when he is. Maybe it was just a one-time thing for her.
By the end of two weeks he's kicking himself for not asking for her number and wondering if any woman alive besides her will ever satisfy him again.
At the end of the third week, he's too busy preparing for the book launch of his final Derrick Storm novel to think about her as much as he has been. Now it's just at night before he falls asleep and first thing when he wakes up.
Therefore, when she comes to arrest him at his own party, he vows then and there that he won't walk away from her this time. This time he'll do whatever it takes to get to know her—and to get her in his bed again.
Two shot, set before the beginning of the series. Rated M, and there’s a reason. Smut ahead!
"Paige just called, they're waiting downstairs," his daughter whirls past, all motion and movement. A quick peck on his cheek serves as her goodbye as she dances past him, roller duffel pulled in her wake. She pauses momentarily by the entry, one hand already on the knob.
"The hotel info is on the fridge, and I'll keep my cell phone on." Her blue eyes pierce him where he stands, lost in the expanse between his office and the main living area. "You'll be ok, Dad?"
His heart lurches, love for this sensitive, beautiful soul bubbling up anew, washing through his veins with a tumult. He's raised a great kid, but she's growing up. Doesn't need him like she used to. And it's a wonderful, terrifying thing.
"I'll be fine, Alexis. Have fun in Boston." He somehow suppresses any quavers in his voice, and she rewards his effort with an electric grin.
"I will, Dad. I'll call and text, don't worry."
He manages a half wave, which she misses as she gambols out the door. It shuts with a loud clang, and he's locked alone in the prison he created for himself. The echo reverberates in his head long after the sound has disappeared from the loft, buzzing through him and fueling the restlessness that's been building for months.
Sighing, he paces into the kitchen, then immediately turns and wanders back to his office. Standing in the middle of the room, he faces the desk where his warden sits: a matte black rectangle one side, a keyboard and blank Word document on the other. He stands, waiting. Waiting for something—anything—to happen.
Nothing changes in this wearied routine. Once again the silence mocks him and he slowly shuffles into his room and collapses on the bed.
It's dark, the afternoon sun blocked by expensive drapery that insulates him from the rest of the world, cocooned in his luxurious cell. Groaning, he beats his fist on the mattress. His life is falling apart.
He'd been so sure, months ago, when he killed off Derrick Storm in what would be the last book of the series. He'd been bored, admittedly. Bored and certain that something new and better was just around the corner. He just had to go find it.
Ignoring the outrage of his publisher (and ex-wife) had been easy, at the time. Now, with the launch of the book imminent and press leaks speculating about what he'd do next, the weight of it all was about to crush him. He'd not found inspiration anywhere he'd looked, and the mounting strain had driven any idle interests far away.
He's capable of more than Storm—much more. He can feel it; taste it at times. But months have passed and his restlessness hasn't led to anything productive.
It lurks, stalking him through the night. Through nightmares with blaring headlines announcing his failure, to others with empty bank accounts and a life without his daughter. He can ignore it during the day—if his mother or daughter is home to distract him. But now, an empty loft surrounds him. His sentence is 4 days of loneliness, thanks to his mother's trip to the Hamptons and Alexis's invitation to accompany her best friend's family.
Jumping back to his feet, he strides back to the office with jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Pulling out the chair with a sharp jerk, he drops to the seat and let's muscle memory take over, fingers poised above the QWERTY keyboard and head bowed, an adept waiting for the maestro to wave his baton so he might begin.
The baton wave never materializes, and like a trickle of molasses his fingers slide off the keyboard, coming to rest in his lap. Shoulders slumped, he creaks the chair in a careful arc until he can stand. So many expectations, all unfulfilled by his impotence.
A low burn flickers to light in his chest.
The words may not be there, but inspiration can be found in many nooks and crannies.
It's time to explore a new one.
He goes through the motion of checking his contact list first, though he knows very well that no one on that list will satisfy. Not tonight. It lets him pretend that he'd made an effort to avoid doing what he really wants to do.
What he's going to do.
"Allison?" Talking out loud is surely a sign of something, but he just doesn't care anymore. "She had great legs, but a laugh like a donkey." Flicking past the braying lawyer, his eyes light up at the next entry. "Carolina, oh yes."
His cock jumps, remembering the incredible sex with the professional cheerleader. Followed quickly by the deflating memory of her new boyfriend. Her outside linebacker new boyfriend. He wasn't desperate enough to risk bodily injury. Besides, he suddenly remembered talking to Carolina. She'd not been much of a conversationalist.
He rapidly rejects the rest, for both reasonable and unreasonable conditions. No one he already knows…or has known…is apt to satiate him tonight. He needs something new.
Someone new.
Taking a deep breath, he almost hums in anticipation as he scrolls through his apps until he finds it. He'd tried it once before, but Alexis had called him while he'd been chatting with his potential partner and he'd had to bail.
His pulse pounds as he looks at the tiny pics of women near him looking for the same thing: a release, a good time. A temporary connection with a stranger. An undamming of his words. The pressure is building within again, and if he can't write, then this is the only way to find relief. And freedom.
He ignores all the redheads—they remind him far too much of his first ex to be an option. A beautiful brunette with long curly hair catches his eye. She looks intelligent, though it's hard to tell from a thumbnail pic. He's at half-mast already, just looking at her picture. Pressing the "Hook Up" icon next to her name, he shivers in anticipation of hearing her voice.
The sultry sound that answers stiffens him the rest of the way. "Hello, handsome."
"Hi there," he returns, settling back against the couch and putting his feet up. "How's it going?"
"Well," she pouts, "I'm having a rough time right now." He loves the teasing note in her voice—it's making his heart pound faster and his cock stiffer.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's the problem?"
"I'm dripping wet, horny for a big, strong man. But I'm all alone. I don't suppose you could take care of me, could you?"
"It seems we both have a problem, then. You see, I'm sitting here with a cock as stiff as iron and no pussy in sight to take care of me." He unzips his pants and takes his straining prick out, stroking it slowly.
"Sounds like we could do each other a favor, then," she coos. "Want to meet up? I could come to your place."
As if. No way in hell is he letting a stranger into his home. Still, he wants this woman. Needs her. And there are many ways to meet that don't involve his loft.
"I'd prefer a hotel. Somewhere close to both of us."
"You got money?" Her voice has changed, the sultriness gone as a curt, no nonsense tone replaces it. It's as though the tap pumping out scalding water had suddenly turned cold. He stops stroking, focusing on her words.
"I got enough to live on. You got nice tits? Since we're asking and all."
She laughs. "Yeah, honey. I got the perkiest set money can buy. They're fucking fantastic."
"I'd love to find out. What are you offering?"
"The night of your life, big boy. I'll let you do anything you want to me. For two grand."
He sits straight up, feeling like an icy bucket of water had been poured into his lap. "What?"
"Two grand, though if you're big enough to satisfy me I'll knock it down to one and a half."
"I don't pay for sex, sweetheart. Find some other sucker."
He hangs up, disappointed after getting so worked up. Standing, he splashes a generous portion of his best scotch into a glass and knocks it back. Okay, so that hadn't gone so well. Sitting down again, his head lolls back against the cushion as the burn of the alcohol sizzles through his veins. Let's face it: that was a fucking Titanic, iceberg and all. He'd ground against it and sunk. But it still didn't change the facts. He needs a release, and it has to be someone new.
Picking up the phone again, he flicks through some more pics. Faster and faster as nothing appeals, until he almost scrolls past. Holy crap. If this is really her picture, she's beautiful.
No, that's not right: she's fucking breathtaking.
"Don't get any ideas," he cautions his cock. He really is losing it if he's having conversations with Ricky Junior now. "She's probably already accepted a hook up. Woman like that won't last on here."
Ricky Junior pays no attention. He's all for hitting chat and getting the woman in bed. Rick stares at her picture for another moment, then hits the button. Expecting nothing, he nearly chokes when the call is answered immediately.
"Hello?" Her voice is hesitant, unsure. She sounds like she's ready to hang up before he's even said a word. Total opposite of the previous conversation. Which is not such a bad thing.
Tamping down the nervous energy zinging through his body, he takes a deep breath and blows it out. Time for the master angler to go to work. This beautiful fish will be in his net before she knows what happened.
"Hi," he rumbles. It's a fine line to sound friendly but not overeager. "How are you tonight?"
There's a pause and he finds he's holding his breath. His heartbeat speeds up as he waits for her to say something…anything. He's not had to work this hard to get what he wants for a long, long time.
"I, uh—I'm okay, I guess." He hears her sigh. "You know, I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. I've never used this app before."
He gives a slight chuckle. "Me either. Guess I was a little bored. I was looking through the pics and saw yours and…well, I just wanted to talk to you. Can't really explain it."
"You mean—you've never hooked up on this app before?" The doubt in her voice is absolutely charming. It's clear she's still very unsure about this situation. It makes him burn ever hotter to meet her.
"No. I talked to someone on it, but…well, I don't know if I should tell you what happened."
A sharp intake of breath comes through the phone. "What? Tell me."
"I dunno," he huffs, "you might think less of me."
"I don't even know you. What do you have to lose?"
She's interested—or at least she's not hung up on him, so he decides to see if he can reel her in a bit. "Wellll, to be honest? She scared me."
There's a giggle from the other end and he lets himself relax a bit. "She scared you? How could she scare you?"
He lets out a poof of air and continues to spin his reel. "She came on way too strong, you know? Like I was just some bit of fresh meat. It just—just didn't feel right. I'm Rick, by the way."
"Huh?"
"You said you didn't know me. Well, now you do. I'm Rick. Nice to talk to you tonight."
There's a pause, and for a sick second he's sure she's off the line. His grin when she answers would rival the Cheshire Cat.
"I'm Kate. Nice to talk to you, Rick."
"So, what made you decide to try this out tonight, Kate?"
She sighs, but it's like she's settling in for a long talk. He sits back and puts his feet back up on the table in front of the sofa. "It was something my friend said. She's the one who put this app on my phone in the first place. I'd never heard of it."
"Yeah? What'd she say?"
There's a long pause and a distinct grumble. "I'm kind of a workaholic. She said I needed to have some fun, and since I absolutely refuse to let her set me up anymore, she said I should try this."
"She sounds like a wise woman." His voice is deep, channeling gravitas from the national newsmen. He hears her laugh again. It's one of the most charming sounds he's ever heard.
"She is. Wise. Well, sometimes. She's a doctor."
"You should always listen to your doctor."
"Maybe. I still haven't decided if she was right about this."
"What will it take to convince you? 'Cause I'm a pretty convincing guy."
"For one thing, why are you on here tonight, Rick?" There's a note of anxiety in her voice, and his heart gives a lurch. This is it: the moment where it all hinges in the balance.
"I'm lonely." It's a stark confession, and way more real than he'd intended to be. Perhaps her anxiety has bled into him. "I—I've not been in a real relationship since my divorce four years ago. I've got work issues of my own, and it just seems like everyone wants something from me but no one sees that I'm starting to crumble under the pressure. So, I thought that for one night…for one night, I'd let myself forget. Just let go and be with someone who doesn't know me. That I don't owe anything to. I can just be myself."
She's silent, like she's waiting for him to ask. Maybe she's too new to this to be the initiator. That's ok—he has no problem helping her along. "Can you do that for me, Kate? Make me forget?"
The pause is so long, he actually takes his phone off his shoulder to check that they're still connected. He almost misses her reply in the process.
Today, on our final day of Better Know An Author (brief break, it’ll come back) we get to know the delightful ilovetoread09.
FanFiction Name: Ilovetoread09
Twitter or other: ilovetoread09 (tumblr)
Why did you pick the name(s) you are using? I couldn’t really think up anything original and I was dying to post something I had written, so I picked ilovetoread09. The 09 is there because I started writing on ff.net in 2009. But at the time, it was horribly misspelled. (I was fifteen, okay? Don’t judge me. :P)
Place of birth: New York, New York
Where do you live now? Long Island, New York.
Anything you want to share about your life or family: I’m pretty close with my family, especially with my mom. Considering what we’ve been through together, it’s not surprising.
Job: I work as a cashier at a craft store. Oh, and I’m a college student.
What do you like to do in your spare time, besides writing? I like reading (go figure) and just doing activities at school, whatever it is that’s going on.
How did you become a fan of Castle? I was channel surfing and happened to come upon it. It was the episode with the mummy curse. I was hooked! Unfortunately, I didn’t go back an watch season 1 until much later, which lead to much confusion during Sucker Punch and Knockdown. hehe
Favorite episode(s): Ugh so many, but here are some 1. The Blue Butterfly. 2. Cops&Robbers. 3. Cuffed. 4. Knockdown 5. Veritas 6 The Lives of Others.
How did you discover fan fiction? A long long time ago in galaxy far away…okay maybe not that long ago. It was probably around 2004/2005ish. I play Nancy Drew computer games and one of the things the company’s site message board has is writing alternate endings for the games. I wrote a couple, but they were awful! I haven’t written for the site in years though.
When did you start writing? see above.
Have you written anything for other fandoms? I wrote for Nancy Drew fandom. Also, Twilight on ff.net, which I deleted long ago. I do have a couple of Scorpion one-shots sitting on my laptop, but I probably won’t ever finish them.
Favorite place to write? On my couch or bed. Sometimes with music playing.
Do you have a particular writing process? Not really, no. I do outline a fic/chapter in my head or pieces of it and then just fill in the blanks.
How do you come up with your story ideas? It’s random. I might hear a song, or have an inkling in my head of an idea and then write it out, even if i think it’s going to be a disaster. But no real firm thing for me.
Which is your favorite story that you’ve written and why? The Price of Protection hands down. It shows how far I’ve come as a writer (I hope). Also, it’s just so much fun to write! I kind of created a different world, but with Castle elements in it. (No pun intended ;)).
What have you learned or improved on in your writing? A lot. However, description mainly. I’m a lot more into dialogue, but I’ve learned to utilize description more than I did.
What resources, if any, do you find helpful when writing? Episodes and google. Google is my best friend.
Is there something you wished you’d known when you first started? Hmm. Probably that there will be critics? I have no issue accepting constructive criticism, but I came from a fandom that never said anything was bad, no matter how horrible it actually was. So, yeah, there will be people who critique your work. Which isn’t really surprising since ff.net is accessed by millions of people.
How long does it take you to write a typical chapter? It depends. Even if I did create my own world, it can take me a while to do a chapter since I’m researching to get some things about medieval times correct for PoP. But it can take me 45 minutes to three months (oops).
Which of your fics has been the most popular? Just based on feedback, Price of Protection. However, I don’t obsess over stats usually, so I would just base it on if readers are happy with it.
Which of your fics are you most proud of, and why? Price Protection. See above for reason.
Last story you wrote, or current if publishing? The Parting Glass, which is a one-shot. it’s based on an old Irish tune that I adore and I totally recommend people listen to it.
Who are some of your favorite authors in fanfic? I have too many to name.
Top 5 favorite stories, other than your own? Same answer as above.
Any stories that you feel deserve more attention? hmm, I thought about not answering this, but I’ll bite. A Tale of Two Spies by AfroSamurai98. It’s intense and great if you’re looking for a different type of story.
Advice to new authors or people thinking about writing? Just do it. Don’t worry about stats, popularity, reviews and all that. Write because you want to. If it makes people happy, then that’s an added bonus.
Something you think will surprise most people about you? I’m not that social in real life. Okay, I just did orientation for the freshmen, but still. I’m pretty quiet, both voluntary and involuntary. (I have a husky voice, which I have gotten several different descriptions of from sexy to sounding like I smoke a pack a day. Which is ironic because reasons). I’m more of an observer.
Anything else you’d like people to know? I’m open to people talking to me,even if I don’t know you that well. Seriously, if you ever need to rant my inboxes on tumblr and ff.net are always open.
Finally, please name a few authors you’d nominate to be interviewed. hmm. I have a few…
msmorg
darkhours
Polly Lynn
ipreferwestside
weightofmywords
InkyCoffee
drdit92 (whistles innocently)
End of interview
Thank you, ilovetoread09! And thank you to everyone who’s been reading. I’m taking a break from publishing these, due to the new season starting TOMORROW (whoo!), but Better Know An Author will be back! The next interview will be with dappledshadows, followed by kimmiesjoy. Look for them at the next program break!
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Yeah! The fic had Kate Beckett throwing out the first pitch at a Yankee’s game in NYC. In real life, Stana throws out a pitch in LA. How weird is that?
Ah, that’s the beauty of Better Know An Author: I don’t. The only author I came up with to interview was the very first one, aspenmusing. At the end, I ask each author to name some other fanfic writers they’d like to read more about. Then, I contact those people. I publish the interviews in the order they’re returned back to me. Some people take like 5 hours (*cough, kathrynchristie, cough*) whereas there are some who’ve had the interview questions for many, many, many days....
There are some authors who’ve chosen not to participate. And, often, there are repeats. I ended up pretty quickly putting it all into a spreadsheet with columns for if I’d contacted someone, how I made contact with them, what their response was, when they’d returned their interview, and what number in the queue they’d be. Without this spreadsheet, it would be mass chaos and I’d be lost.
Anyway, that’s the long answer. I don’t choose. The people who are interviewed choose. This way, I remain a neutral party and there is clearly zero impact from me, other than the choice of Alex in the beginning. And my reason for choosing her was outlined in that first interview. Thanks for the question!
