Story

[DearK]

Re: Story

Nunya, you write it as yougo? That's amazing. I thought it was already packaged before you start posting it.

Well it's been a whole day now, let's get going here missy!

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Thanks yah Deark (cut yeye pon de one tilly )

I always only write it as I sit here - usually only after I've clicked on the 'reply' button (except for the last installment) which I wrote early morning on word pad ~lol~

Tell you the truth, it's been so hot the past few days, I haven't had the energy to write anything, but I'll make it up later. I'm going to see if I can take the boys out to a movie...

*smooches*

[Shine_Eye_Girl]

Re: Story

Do you have to take them out to the movies? Why cant you just sit in the hot house (an bun up) and write the story?

Ah joke yah....

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Chapter III

"Man, I just keep feeling her, you know? She was so tight, so sweet, man!" His head was flung back as he sat, half sprawled on the couch, one arm resting over the bulky floral cushion, the other massaging his groin. His eyes were closed, his face slack as he tried to re-live the rapture he'd felt the previous night. His friend was sitting at the computer, his attention focused on the matter at hand. The only sound, for a while was the clicking of the computer keys, then he exclaimed, "I've got it!"

"Yeah?" he jumped up off the couch and ambled over to peer over his friend's shoulder to view the monitor. They pressed the play button and the silence of the recording filled the basement. "Blow it up, man," he urged his friend who complied. They watched in satisfaction as the screen filled with the shaky video of the naked white backside moving silently down the short passageway to the bathroom, the hand going out to push the door inward, the pause as the star of the piece paused to ready himself and take in the moment, before he thrust the curtains aside, and moved in. There were splashs that caught the lens, that blurred the imagery, but only for a moment for with a quick wipe with the thumb, all became clear and now the world would see beauty of a hardcore [censored]! And just the way it should be, the white on black (it would've been nicer if she was a bit more black), the strength against her softness, the force against her malleability. It was a beautiful thing!

"We should get some good hits from this one man!"

They touched fists before turning back to watch the hits roll in.

********

Sargeant Westcott, turned left down Peel Street and craned his neck to to view the one way streets that ran off it. There was no sign of her. He slapped the steering wheel in frustration. He felt foolish for allowing a little twit of a girl like that get the better of him and he had read from the snickering of the onlookers that they agreed with him. As he drove though, looking for her, and having foregone the urge to radio for back-up, he started to come to the realisation that he'd read the situation wrong.

She was not high, she was not drunk. Something else was wrong. He had the sickening the feeling that she'd been assaulted: the way she'd held her clothing together, the way she'd fought and clawed at him. Now he grounded his teeth in self-disgust. Instead of being calming and approachable, he'd gone at her with a foregone conclusion and had probably done more than enough damage. He should've known better. He was not new at this!

Determination settled on his face and he re focused. He would find her, even if it took the rest of his shift.

[Nunya]

Re: Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Shine_Eye_Girl</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Do you have to take them out to the movies? Why cant you just sit in the hot house (an bun up) and write the story?

Ah joke yah.... </div></div>

Lawd ma, inside de cinema coola dan dis yah place ya! Just got back - saw G.I Joe. Now mi tyad an gone a mi bed.

Sorry de installment dem so shawt, as soon as it stawt cool dung likkle de installment dem wi grow...

[applepie]

Re: Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body"><div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Shine_Eye_Girl</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Do you have to take them out to the movies? Why cant you just sit in the hot house (an bun up) and write the story?

Ah joke yah.... </div></div>

Lawd ma, inside de cinema coola dan dis yah place ya! Just got back - saw G.I Joe. Now mi tyad an gone a mi bed.

Sorry de installment dem so shawt, as soon as it stawt cool dung likkle de installment dem wi grow... </div></div>

Was G.I Joe good?

[Nunya]

Re: Story

I liked it. Or maybe I should say I liked Snake Eyes! I like my heroes to be the strong silent type.

Gi yuh joke, one pawt eena de movie, de 'bad' girl an de star guy start kiss, so mi buss out eena one big ol kiss teet!

Den layta, im a run chroo fyah a carry har. Hear mi buss out to mi son: &quot;Man, it never fails! Always gotta be carrying some white girl through de flippin fire!&quot;



De mount a people tun roun an look pon mi ~lol~ as fi de pickney, if im couldan sink chroo de floor, im oodan dweet

[applepie]

Re: Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">I liked it. Or maybe I should say I liked Snake Eyes! I like my heroes to be the strong silent type.

Gi yuh joke, one pawt eena de movie, de 'bad' girl an de star guy start kiss, so mi buss out eena one big ol kiss teet!

Den layta, im a run chroo fyah a carry har. Hear mi buss out to mi son: &quot;Man, it never fails! Always gotta be carrying some white girl through de flippin fire!&quot;



De mount a people tun roun an look pon mi ~lol~ as fi de pickney, if im couldan sink chroo de floor, im oodan dweet </div></div>

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Sunday had come and gone in a blur. She'd spent the day cleaning - scrubbing the floors, the sinks, the tub and the walls. She'd washed the mats and the rugs, the curtains and the sheets. She'd emptied and cleaned the cupboards and the closets. She'd dusted and polished every last bit of furniture she had. She'd even done the windows. And she could hardly remember doing any of it.

It was supposed to be therapy, cleaning. It was supposed to put her on automatic pilot, while the monotony of the tasks tranquilized her soul. Maybe it had worked, because she hardly remember the jobs she did. Maybe it had found for her a coping mechanism. Maybe. But all she knew now, as she sat smoking in her car, in the parking lot of Gabe's Diner waiting for the owners to arrive and open up so she can begin her job of cleaning, was that she was just <span style="font-style: italic">tired</span>.

Her body ached. It had been an enormous chore just getting out of bed, let alone getting ready and driving here. Physically she was beyond exhausted. Mentally she was just numb. Emotionally she was drained.

She stared dispassionately at the overflowing ashtray in her car. She couldn't remember how many cigarettes she'd smoked in the hour she'd sat in the parking lot - for it had been an hour (why she was there that early, her being so tired and all was beyond her) and she couldn't remember enjoying any of it. She couldn't find the energy to even grimace about the state of the car's interior or to even care.

She just sat there and stared at nothing, seeing nothing but remembering all that she didn't want to. The constant replaying of Friday Night was like a dvd being played on fast-forward over and over again. She scenes were stamped on her and all the cleaning in the world was not going to dislodge them. She stared at her hands as she held the butt and noted that the shaking had finally stopped. At least there was that. No-one needed to know what had happened to her. No-one would.

********

He was going to be late but he had to know, he just had to! He started up his computer and soon was smiling broadly. The hits were more than they'd ever had this early on in the game! And even now, this early on Monday, there were hits coming in! He laughed aloud. Maybe there were people out there, risking being late to work, just so they could enjoy his art. <span style="font-style: italic">Their</span> art. Yeah. He watched the replay, and found that even though it had been a high only three nights before, now the memory was just one of many and no longer stood out. His smile faded and the emptyness returned. He would have to top Friday Night. <span style="font-style: italic">They</span> would have to top it. He sent a text, while taking one last lingering look at the the hit numbers. He shut down computer, flipped his phone closed and exitted his apartment. His steps grew jauntier as he revised new scenarios and participants. There was no doubt they would be able to top Friday Night. And they wouldn't have to wait a whole week before doing it either.

[applepie]

Re: Story

Nunya

I will agree with you on the strong silent part....mi was hoping him wudda utter a sentence, phrase.......heck a word after the beatdown

[Nunya]

Re: Story

BOAL! That would've killed the mystique... ~lol~

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Chapter IV

Sargeant Westcott sat across from the young woman who would not look him in the eye. He silently cursed the cutbacks to the department. It was the norm to have female police interview female rape victims because, simply, of the common ground of their gender. But the only two female police officers were 'out' today. And he had to take the statement of the victim.

He'd always found it unnerving, the questions he had to ask and the answers he would get. The idea of rape or any sexual assault held a certain repugnance to him that he at times took great pains to conceal. After all, though he had to show a certain amount of compassion, they were encouraged to remain somewhat detached. No telegraphed glee allowed in hearing that a would-be attacker had gotten the head of his penis bitten off because he fancied getting blown.

Not that this woman had been in such a situation. Well, she hadn't said anyway. From what Sgt Westcott was able to ascertain, she'd been grabbed on when she'd attempted to cut across the parking lot of the used car dealership in hopes of getting to the bus stop on time. Her attacker had been laying in wait, or maybe he'd followed her, she couldn't tell, she'd had her headphone on. He'd forced her between the cars and had raped her without her ever seeing his face.

She was sorry, apologetic, fearful of some form or reprisal or chastisement because she'd not noted anything of use. She kept wringing her hands, her face blotchy and tearful, saying she was sorry, so sorry and Paul felt himself growing impatient with her.

He tried to reassure her that that was normal. He found himself repeating almost by rote, the information they'd learned and were expected to keep up on, on how the human brain reacts to certain distressing situations. He found her staring at him blankly and silently cursed again.

He glanced down on notes he had taken and noted the salient points: she was attacked maybe two kilometres away from the police station, less than a block away from the bus-stop. Her attack had occurred at about 9pm. The attack lasted maybe 20 minutes. The attacker had taken his time. She had not been able to ascertain his ethnicity. She felt he was between 5' 8&quot; and 6'. She couldn't determine how much he weighed - he'd been lying on her back and she'd been more concerned with fighting for air. He was strong. He'd forced the side of her face down onto the graveled lot. Even now Sgt Westcott could see the angry red imprints that the pebbles had left in the side of her face and even where they'd drawn blood. He wanted to wrap up the interview, so that he could get on with filing the report and she could get on with the ordeal that was yet to come.

He gently directed her to the two constables that would take her to have the rape kit done. She was anxious and afraid and kept looking back over her shoulder at him. He smiled, with what he hoped was reassurance, his anger banked. God he hated scum who did things like this! He prayed that he would be able to get his hands on the [censored] when there was no one around to witness. If only.

He turned back to the computer and got ready to begin when she turned back and said, &quot;I think there were two of them.&quot;

&quot;Uh?&quot;

Her brow was furrowed as she struggled to see past the assault and to remember. &quot;Yeah, I think there were two of them.&quot;

&quot;Why do you think that?&quot; he asked, his pen flying over the page. &quot;I thought you said there was only one, that he hadn't even spoken a word?&quot;

&quot;I didn't say there was only one!&quot; her voice snapped in annoyance and he felt a slight sense of relief. Anger and not self-pity - she would be alright. &quot;I said I was raped by one person. But I remember now, hearing someone whispering to him.&quot;

&quot;What? What was he - was it a he? What was he whispering?&quot;

&quot;He was whispering that he should move, he was blocking the shot.&quot;

[Nanook]

Re: Story

It's amazing that you can write like this on the fly. I didn't know that about your stories and I appreciate the creativeness of them all the more for it!

Anyway, I'm hooked and wishing you cool inspiring days ahead!

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Thanks Mrs Nooky! I am wishing for cool days too...

[gullygirl]

Re: Story

wow!! .. love your work..