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Author Topic: Gnothi's Stories Without Homes - Seeking Male, Female, and Trans Characters  (Read 2028 times)

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Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

  • The Baddest Bitch in All the Realm. Mother of The Bieber. Defender of the Brotherfucking Faith. Captain of the Raven. Queen of Gilea. Lover of all things Kenneth Parcell and Lucielle Bluth.
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Gnothi's Stories Without Homes




*queues up Sarah McLachlan songs*

For the price of one PM, you can give these poor, neglected stories a home...


Welcome to Gnothi's Stories Without Homes thread.

Every once in a while, my muse tends to have a mind of it's own.  It likes to get away from me and focus on one of my ideas much, to the point where I just *need* to write something for it in order to get the scene or story out of my head and put my attention to other things.  My muse is a pain, but it wants what it wants.

This thread is intended to be a sort of wanted thread/display thread for stories and ideas that I've already begun in terms of a starting post.  Either partners abandoned before it could start, or my muse just couldn't stop thinking about it. 

The stories here range from light and casual, to extreme and disturbing.  Each one will be accompanied by a short blurb spoilered, wherein I'll give light on the idea, the sort of character I'm looking to play beyond my introduction post, as well as what sort of character and direction I am hoping for with the story.  Nothing is set in stone, but it should be noted I strongly favor plot and story over smut.

If a story interests you, please PM me.  I might not be the quickest with PMs, with my schedule offline as well as my workload on here with my group games and attentions, but I try to get back to people.

One big thing to keep in mind:  Don't let the size of some of these pieces intimidate you.  In most cases, they're the product of an over-active muse, in addition to just setting the scene and stage for the story.  Most of my posts are a few paragraphs at most, and not novel-sized posts like some of these.

Also, please refrain from posting here in the thread.
« Last Edit: December 06, 2016, 11:13:27 PM by GnothiSeauton »

Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

  • The Baddest Bitch in All the Realm. Mother of The Bieber. Defender of the Brotherfucking Faith. Captain of the Raven. Queen of Gilea. Lover of all things Kenneth Parcell and Lucielle Bluth.
  • Lady
  • Addict
  • *
  • Join Date: May 2009
  • Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land by day, Isle of the Damned by night, Church of the Sacred Union every Sunday
  • Gender: Female
  • "Illiteracy?!? What does that word even mean?"
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Re: Gnothi's Stories Without Homes
« Reply #1 on: August 30, 2016, 09:17:14 PM »
    Listings and Updates




    Master List
    • Magnum Opus - Posted August 30th, 2016 - Seeking Male Characters - Taken
      A modern romance story following a terminally ill painter and her newfound muse in the form of a vagrant young man.
    • Contested - Posted August 30th, 2016 - Seeking Male, Female, or Trans Characters
      Set against the backdrop of an intense presidential election, this story follows the relationship between a popular Senator and a younger sex worker.
    • Owned - Posted August 30th, 2016 - Seeking Male Characters
      A look at a troubled and complicated relationship between a sex worker and a powerful and influential client.
    • Life Lessons - Posted August 30th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A modern romance featuring themes of adultery and taboo relationships between a teacher and a former student.
    • Playing with Fire - Posted August 31st, 2016 - Seeking Male, Female, or Trans Characters
      A story following a woman with unique abilities and the difficult relationships that follow.
    • Family Bonds - Posted September 1st, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters - Taken
      The tale of a man who, having escaped an incest cult at a young age, is reunited unexpectedly with his betrothed:  his devout sister.
    • Decay - Posted September 6th, 2016 - Seeking Female or Trans Characters - Taken
      A romance story about culture clashes with a 1% Biker recently released from ten years behind bars.
    • Claiming; or A House of Swords - Posted September 7th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      The story of a twisted romance between two unlikely individuals as they seek to claim power in George R. R. Martin's Westeros.
    • Don't Let Me Down - Posted September 20th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A reunion of two lovers following difficult circumstances after thirteen years apart.
    • Family Reunion - Posted September 20th, 2016 - Seeking Male Characters - Taken
      This is essentially the story listed previously entitled Family Bonds.  This version, however, is with myself seeking a male character to write against while I write the younger sister.
    • Domestic Servitude - Posted September 21th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A story of intrigue, drama, and betrayal between a couple and their live-in submissive.
    • Lessons to Live By - Posted October 4th, 2016 - Seeking Male Characters
      A modern romance featuring themes of adultery and taboo relationships between a teacher and a former student.
    • Don't Let Me Down* - Posted October 4th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A reunion of two lovers following difficult circumstances after thirteen years apart.  Seeking someone to portray the abused character.
    • Owed - Posted October 5th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A look at a troubled and complicated relationship and it's evolution between a young sex worker and an older, powerful and influential client.

    Updates
    • August 30th, 2016 - Creation of Thread, Magnum Opus, Contested, Owed, and Life Lessons
    • August 31st, 2016 - Addition of Playing with Fire
    • September 1st, 2016 - Addition of Family Bonds.  Removal of Family Bonds.
    • September 6th, 2016 - Addition of Decay
    • September 7th, 2016 - Addition of Claimed
    • September 8th, 2016 - Addition of Don't Let Me Down (1).  Removal of Decay.
    • September 20th, 2016 - Addition of Family Reunion
    • September 21st, 2016 - Addition of Domestic Servitude.  Removal of Family Reunion.
    • October 4th, 2016 - Addition of Lessons to Live By, and Don't Let Me Down (2)
    • October 5th, 2016 - Addition of Owed
    • October 11th, 2016 - Addition of Desperation
    • October 15th, 2016 - Removal of Magnum Opus
    • October 22nd, 2016 - Addition of Rent to Own
    • November 20th, 2016 - Addition of Playing House.  Removal of Don't Let Me Down (1), Don't Let Me Down (2)
    • December 7th, 2016 - Removal of Contested, Playing with Fire, Desperation, Rent to Own.  Shuffling of thread.
    • December 10th, 2016 - Removal of Playing House.
    • December 21st, 2016 - Addition of a bump post.
    • December 23rd, 2016 - Edit of bump post above to be new home of Contested.  Addition of a new post listing current cravings.
    • January 9th, 2017 - Reopening of Playing House.  Re-assortment of current cravings.
    • January 14th, 2017 - Reopening of Decay.  Closing of Domestic Servitude.  Addition of Guiding Hand.
    • January 24th, 2017 - Various thread edits.  Removal of some stories.  Tidying up.
    • January 28th, 2017 - Addition of The Old College Try.
    • January 31st, 2017 - The thread has been overhauled in a variety of ways.  To make the thread nicer and less scattered, older stories that are no longer desired have been removed to my storage thread.  Some stories have been moved around and placed in some of the former posts.


    Current Desires
    • Owned - Posted August 30th, 2016 - Seeking Male Characters
      A look at a troubled and complicated relationship between a sex worker and a powerful and influential client.
    • Owed - Posted October 5th, 2016 - Seeking Female Characters
      A look at a troubled and complicated relationship and it's evolution between a young sex worker and an older, powerful and influential client.
    • Decay - Posted September 6th, 2016 - Seeking Female or Trans Female Characters
      A romance between two people from two very different walks of life.
    • Guiding Hand - Posted January 14th, 2017 - Seeking Dominant Characters
      Can a survivor of a relationship domestic violence and rape learn to understand and enjoy BDSM?
    • The Old College Try - Posted January 28th, 2017 - Seeking Female Characters
      A romance between two young woman during college.
    [/list][/list]
    « Last Edit: January 31, 2017, 07:10:17 PM by GnothiSeauton »

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

    • The Baddest Bitch in All the Realm. Mother of The Bieber. Defender of the Brotherfucking Faith. Captain of the Raven. Queen of Gilea. Lover of all things Kenneth Parcell and Lucielle Bluth.
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    Re: Gnothi's Stories Without Homes
    « Reply #2 on: August 30, 2016, 09:45:00 PM »
    Owned



    Idea:  In a sense, this is not unlike Contested, listed above, in that it's a story between a sex worker and a person of influence.  But where it differs is that this is intended to be closer to a romance.  With this idea, I was looking to explore a young woman who is in the sex industry, who gets into trouble, and forms a relationship with a client who bails her out, and the evolution of their relationship from there.

    My Character:  I'm looking to write the prostitute.  She's a young woman in her mid twenties who, unlike the cliche stories, is a woman who enjoys what she does.  It's empowering and exhilarating, not demeaning and remorseful.

    Your Character:  I'm looking for an older male character.  I would prefer a family man in his early to mid fifties, as age difference is something I truly want to explore.  Perhaps a judge or lawyer?  I have a few faces in mind, but again, will defer to your decision.

    Themes and Outlook:  I want to explore their relationship, from the first time they meet, to the bitter end.  I don't think that a relationship is something that she wants, and is doing it more to keep him happy, with the lifestyle he has given her, and the certain sense of comfort that comes with him.  Being able to resist the pull of the former career is something that she can't let go of, and would love to explore the relationship and the struggle with that.




    The room had been cold, just flirting that line between comfortable and uncomfortable.  It felt good upon her nakedness, soothing, calming the still fast beating heart and heat within her.

    He had been in the shower, the sound reaching her in the main part of the hotel room.  She knew what was expected when it came to Thomas, or whatever his name truly was.  They would do the deed, comfortably bask in that afterglow, for only a moment, before he would carry himself to the bathroom to clean her from his body.  The gentle, older man expected her gone by the time he emerged from the steamy shower, and Alicia Wesson was fine with that.

    It was easier, she thought, to not see her when he dealt with the shame that came with cheating on his wife and family.

    Funny how that so often seemed to be, she thought to herself, as she wiped her folds with a few Kleenexes.  How eager they were, how desperate they were to have her, and others like her, sparing no expense, just for a little bit of their attention and presence.  And then, how uncomfortable and shameful they were after the deed was done, when all that was desired was for loneliness.

    The musings on such paradoxes were entertaining from time to time.  The attempt at unraveling the mysteries that were the minds of her clients.  Some just wanted someone to talk to.  Some just wanted to feel loved and desired.  And some just wanted to fuck.  Each and every one with their own unique reasons.  A lonely life and busy career.  A misunderstood family man.  A stressed soul just needing some sort of release.  She didn't dare try and psychoanalyze her clients.  In the end, none of that mattered.

    The only thing that truly mattered to her was how much, and for how long.  Money and time.  The most valuable things in the world.

    Tick, tick, tick went the clock in her head.  She had a few minutes to get dressed, gather her belongings and payment, and head out into the maze of halls of the hotel.  After a few minute wait for the car, she'd be on her way back into her normal routine, changing in the backseat while her driver navigated the streets and thoroughfares.  From the back of the car, she would emerge, her navy-blue cocktail dress folded away neatly in her bag, donned in the simple, casual attire so often seen around campus.

    Back to her apartment, back to the life and lie she lived to all of those around her in her personal life.  The dutiful college student.  With enough time, she thought she might be able to sneak in a nap, a short rest to recharge her body and mind before plunging into her studies.

    Until the phone would ring again.

    Just as it had while she was sitting there upon the edge of the bed, vibrating away from the depths of her small clutch.  Alicia rose from the bed, stretching her taut, lithe figure before retrieving her phone.  A quick glance at the screen, and she did not hesitate to answer.

    “Hey.” She said in a soft, gentle whisper.  “I was just getting ready to call you.  I'm getting ready to get dressed and leave my Noon appointment.”

    Alicia could almost hear the grin upon Joanna's face.  “'Atta girl.” The Madam had said.  “Listen, I need to talk, like, right now.  I've got a bit of an emergency on my hands.”

    Her eyebrows raised at the statement.  “What sort of emergency?” She asked after a slight pause.

    “Nothing major or anything like that.” Joanna said, which made Alicia breathe a sigh of relief, knowing what dangers and troubles lurked in such an industry.  “I had Amie scheduled for one of my V.I.P's, a big one to me.  She got sick this morning, and I need someone, like, as soon as possible.”

    Alicia turned her head to the door of the bathroom, the shower still going.  “But I just had an appointment though...” She said, her voice filled with uncertainty.  “Isn't there someone else?”

    A sigh came from the other end of the phone.  “Sweetheart, I need you.  I've got no one else available with their day free.” Joanna said.  “If it were any other client, I'd try to reschedule, offer a discount, whatever.  But I can't with this one.  He's my VIP of VIP's, and you're right up with alley with what he likes.”

    When Alicia hesitated, Joanna pounced.  “I personally vouch for him.  All of the girls who've had appointments with him like him.” She continued.  “Plus, he's an amazing tipper.”

    Could she do it, she wondered?

    “When and where?” She sighed. 

    “You're a lifesaver.” Joanna grinned.  “He's at the Allegro, downtown.  Already knows what's going on and that you'd be running a little late.  He said to just meet him in the hotel restaurant.  He'll be looking for you.”

    ~~~

    Ordinarily, when it came to arranged meetings with clients, Alicia preferred to stick to the sacred routine she kept for herself in preparation.

    By no means was it some sort of strict, demanding regimen, nor was it something that could just be glossed over with an idle sense of care.  It was something that, in her mind, was simple.  Easy to follow.  Calming and soothing to perform.  After all, that was the entire purpose of her routine.

    A long soak in the tub was often required.  If she were lucky enough, and her stores were stocked, the waters would be scented with fragrances from one of many bath bombs.  The water was always warm, hot, to help scrub away what dirt, sweat, and whatever else may have been lingering upon her flesh.  A drying out period, usually wrapped up in her softest of robes. 

    From there, she would clear her head and mind of all of the negativity, all of the troubles and thoughts of her “normal” life.  Sitting before the mirror, applying makeup with a deft hand, she pushed such thoughts out of her mind, and focused on what was needed, what was required, for that evening, whatever it might have been.

    By the time she left her apartment, she was often relaxed and calm.  Loosened up from the routine designed to calm and ready herself.  No troubling thoughts of whether she looked this way or that way.  Nothing but confidence in her steps, that sense of power and strength that was always comforting in what was to be done when meeting with a client.

    But not always can one be as prepared and calmed when about to meet a client.

    She sat alone in the little stall of the hotel lobby bathroom.  Her eyes scanned every inch of her face and eyes.  Makeup was touched up here and there.  Her dark hair brushed as best as she could in the small, barely private space.  She cleaned herself up as best as she could with the baby wipes in her purse, a refreshing spray of perfume here and there upon her body.  Every motion hurried, knowing that already she was running late.

    She had made sure she was clean before leaving the other place, cringing as she asked her last appointment to use the shower, further prolonging their time together.  A hot shower with hotel courtesy soaps.  A far cry from the rich and expensive bath products that were tucked away in her room.

    It made her feel as she had all those months ago...  Lost...  Naive about the ways of the business...  Ignorant of the value of such comforts...  Before she ever discovered the rush, the thrill, the empowerment of it all.

    When she emerged from the stall, the young woman could not help but to give herself another look in the ling mirror of the bathroom.  Her hands smoothed over the navy blue material of the cocktail dress, picking away a stray hair here and there.  She looked good, she thought, as good as she could feel under the hurried circumstances.  The fountain of youthful innocence, containing that hint of something more...

    A couple of deep, calming breaths.  The only thing holding her back as herself, she thought.  All that needed to be done was to step out and go.

    Despite the lingering doubts in the back of her mind, the little ball of anxiety that went with knowing she was not at her absolute best, having just come from an appointment, she walked with a sense of confidence that was enviable.  Her long, dark hair trailing gently behind her, her high-heels clicking softly against the marble, she was ready for the night, and all that came with it, as she emerged into the restaurant of the hotel, waiting and looking for her client.

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

    • The Baddest Bitch in All the Realm. Mother of The Bieber. Defender of the Brotherfucking Faith. Captain of the Raven. Queen of Gilea. Lover of all things Kenneth Parcell and Lucielle Bluth.
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    • Addict
    • *
    • Join Date: May 2009
    • Location: Cloud Cuckoo Land by day, Isle of the Damned by night, Church of the Sacred Union every Sunday
    • Gender: Female
    • "Illiteracy?!? What does that word even mean?"
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    Re: Gnothi's Stories Without Homes
    « Reply #3 on: September 06, 2016, 11:03:13 AM »
    Decay




    Idea:  This is based off of my previous idea entitled Decay.  A biker of a 1% club finds himself out of prison after ten long years, and embarks on a spontaneous relationship of sorts with a person met on his first night of freedom.  The relationship serves to decay one's normal, happy life, into something different...  It'll make more sense as you read on with the characters and themes...

    My Character:  My character is one that I've recycled from a past group game in addition to a couple of story attempts.  He's a man in his thirties, recently released from prison, and facing the changes in the world for the first time.  His life and the world's changed in the time he's been gone, especially with his motorcycle club, and seeks to gain control to right the ship, so to speak.

    Your Character:  This is where the heart of the story lives.  Your character should, I hope, be different than he and the life he's accustomed to.  The original idea called for a more straight-laced good girl who just seeks some freedom in life she's never really had in the pressures of her life.  This can easily change according to what you might like to write.  One variation that I explored with someone, but did not get to really try, as they had to leave the site, was something of a long-lost sibling that neither of them knew about.  One concept I would really love to try and explore would be a trans female (mtf), but again, it's all totally up to you and what you might want to do.

    Themes and Outlook:  The major theme for this one is culture clashes, and how two different people, from two different cultures, fall in love and how they cope with each other's lives.  As far as an outlook, it's up to you.  I do like the idea of her complete and total embrace of his life, to possibly the point of running from the law and starting a new life together.  But it's up to you to discuss.

    Also, my writing this kind of got away from me...




    The feel of the breeze upon his face was different than the times before.

    Sheridan Miller had been outside during his stay at Adamsburg.  It was unavoidable, one of those unavoidable musts that were mightily desired by those like him.  Time outside in the yard, a chance to feel the sun on their faces, the breeze on their flesh.  It was a feeling that could not be had, sitting inside a cell, or looking out one of the windows.  It was a sensation that one could not feel, walking along the sterile, florescent-lit halls of the prison.  For many, it was the closest thing to freedom any of them had in years, and for a few, the only sense of freedom they would ever feel again.

    For him though...  On that day...  Freedom was freedom. 

    A moment had to be taken as he stepped outside the release sally-port.  A moment all to himself.  Standing there, in the warm sunshine of the summer morning, knowing there was nothing out there holding him in.  No fence.  No armed guard.  Nothing but the open air and open world, waiting to embrace him once again.

    It didn't matter that he wore clothes that were old, unwashed from a pile of courtesy clothes, an old plain t-shirt and pair of sweat pants.  It did not matter that ten years, ten long years, had been taken from his life.  It didn't matter that all he had to his name were the clothes upon his back, the cheap, old and scuffed up tennis shoes upon his feet, and a check for a pittance of what had been in his commissary in his pocket.  All that mattered, in that blissful moment was that he was free.  Finally free.

    “Is that mangy son of a bitch who I think he is?” A voice called out.

    Sheridan's cold blue eyes opened from their savoring moment, looking out across the sun-lit parking lot to the lanky man in black.  A smirk began to form under the long tangle of his beard, matching the smirk of the man leaning against the rear of an old mustang.  It was somewhere in the space between them that they met, embracing one another in a long, tight hold on one another.

    “You lucky bastard.” The man spoke, pulling back to look over him.  “Well look at you.  Grown a bit fatter, I see.” He teased, his hand going up to the bare chin.  “Nice beard.  Going into the homeless look, I take it?”

    A chuckle, soft and faint came from Sheridan as Dave laid into him with the ribbing and jokes.  It felt good to laugh, to have that sense of enjoyment that had been robbed of him for so long.  His brother-in-arms could have made jokes about his mother, and still Sheridan would have laughed.  Just happy to be out and free again.

    “I'll give you the homeless look in a minute.” Sheridan remarked in his deep voice, with no hint of malice in his voice.

    Dave laughed.  “Oh-ho...  Is that so?” He teased, giving a firm pat on the shoulder that quickly slid around behind his shoulders as the two began to walk back to the car.  “Good to see you again, man.  Didn't think I'd see you for a good while longer.”

    “You and me both.”

    It had been nothing short of a miracle, he had thought those months ago as he sat in his cell.  All it took was one domino, one witness, for the case that had been brought against him to deteriorate.  A recantation of a statement by a witness, the one thing that had been the proverbial nail in the coffin of his case.  The one thing that had tied him together in the case against him.

    And now he was free.  Out there, away from the bonds that had held him in place.  Out there, free to fall back into the life he loved, the only life he lived.

    He fell into the life at a young age.  Just like Dave and a bunch of the others.  All looking for that sense of family that had eluded them in their childhoods.  Some came from broken homes.  Some from homes where their parents slaved away each and every day.  Some were born into the life, by fathers who rode with the devil, or the women who fucked them.  Some just never had that sense of camaraderie that had been missing.  And with each other, they found it, and found the club that was the glue that held them all together.

    He had been just like the others.  A broken home; a father who had ran out long before he was even born, a mother who loved the pipe and cock more than him.  So many days and nights of his young youth, trying to take care of himself when he wasn't taken up by CCP.  There had not been anyone there in his life, no one there to look out for him but himself.

    No one but the Brotherhood.

    Ten years, he thought to himself as he sat in the car.  Ten years.  A lot had changed, just from looking out beyond the open window, at the streets and roads that passed them by.  Ten years.  How much had he missed?

    “So what's been going on?” Sheridan finally asked.

    Dave snorted in mild amusement.  “More like what hasn't been going on.” He remarked with a shake of his head.  “Brotherhood ain't the same from when you left it.  Things have changed.”

    He didn't doubt that, he thought.  What news he had learned had been filtered down to almost nothing, with the ever watchful eye of guards reading letters and listening in on calls.

    “Mike'll explain it all to you.”

    “But you won't sugar coat it.” He said, looking over to Dave behind the wheel.

    A soft sigh escaped his lips.  “Shit's been changin', man.  The world's been changin'.  Ever since Mike took over when you and bunch of the big guys got locked up, things have been different.  Ain't like it used to be.” Dave said with a hint of nostalgia in his voice as they drove on.  “We ain't peddlin' pussy anymore.  Got out of the pot business.  Streets are flooded with that shit nowadays.  Now, he's got us in the meth business.  Got a lab out in the middle of nowhere, some smart cook.  Make it and sell it out of state.”

    Meth, Sheridan thought to himself uncomfortably.  That things would change, would have to change, had not been in any doubt.  It was a way of life.  Evolution.  In the case of the club, like most clubs and outfits, it was the evolution of production and revenue.  Where would they find their next way to sustain themselves and their club? 

    It had been pussy and pot when he was young and joining up.  A few girls who needed a few extra bucks, who didn't seem troubled with the how or why.  A farm up north that grew some of the best green around.  But that was all of the past.  Meth was the present, the future.  Meth, whose seductive effects had not been shielded from his own view.

    “Gotta say though...” Dave said after a long moment.  “Makes a hell of a lot of money.”

    Sheridan snorted lightly in a quiet derisive amusement.  “I'm sure.” He mused, reaching for a pack of cigarettes and lighter on the center console.  The answer to his next question already given.  Money was sure to make even the most conscientious of the group quiet.  “How the old guys take it?”

    “Well, it ain't like they got much of a say in things anymore.” Dave commented.  “Jimmy is still locked up in Tulsa.  Martin is somewhere up north fuckin' mooses or something.  And Sid's retired.”

    Softly Sheridan nodded his head.  “Heard from Sid a few times.”

    Dave nodded softly.  “Damn shame what's been happenin' to him.  Fuckin' Cancer.”

    For a long moment, Sheridan's mind drifted to the old man.  He who was like a father to him when he didn't have one in his life.  The figure who helped to look out for him, helped to raise and shape him into the man he would eventually become.  The bastard had been as tough as nails, strong and intimidating.  Out of everything else in their life, all of the hazards and dangers, it would be cancer to do him in.

    “You hear anything about his daughter?” Sheridan asked.

    Dave shook his head.  “Not much.” He said.  “Heard she went off to college.  Came back after a bit to take care of him.”  A smirk came over his face.  “Maybe she'll drop by at the party tonight.”

    A groan escaped Sheridan's lips.  “Don't tell me there's a party.”

    “The fuck you think we ain't going to throw a welcome-home party for you?” Dave grinned.  “Mike thought of it, and the old ladies and screws jumped all over it.  Been fixing up the club house and cooking like crazy.  Even went out to that dump of a trailer you called a home to clean and make it all pretty for you.”

    “I don't want to go to that shit.” Sheridan said, resting his head against the headrest as the wind blew upon his face.

    ~ ~ ~

    Half way into his beer, he was already feeling the first touches of regret in his mind, pulsating with every vibration against his thigh.

    A long, deep drag of the cigarette came between his lips.  The slow burn in the back of his throat welcomed, before being extinguished by the ambrosia that was a cold beer.  He savored the taste upon his tongue for a few moments, the tinge of nicotine mixed with the moist taste of hops upon his palate.  Heaven on earth...  For how long had he desired nothing more than a cold beer and cigarette?

    It felt good.  It tasted good.  Even with the changes in the surroundings of his once favorite haunt, it was a welcomed change from the cell he once called home. 

    There would be headaches in the morning.  Shit talking and questions asked about where he went off to, where he could have possibly went that was more fun and enjoyable than his own welcome home party.  Grumbles and rumbles of how some felt slighted by his absence.  Some of the other charter members might feel a bit sore, inconvenienced for making the long rides from wherever home was for them to see the jail bird who would never show up to the party.  Judging from the amount of vibrations from the alien phone in his pocket, buzzing almost incessantly with calls and messages, Sheridan felt sure the discontent was already in full bloom.

    Let them wait, he thought to himself, taking another pull of the ice-cold goodness.  He'd done his time.  Did he not deserve a bit of peace and quiet?  Did he not deserve a chance to do something he wanted with his reclaimed freedom?

    It would not be as if the company at the party would be any better, he mused to himself, glancing around at the bar he once thought of as a second home.

    Weekend Riders.  Wannabes.   The sort of men and women who thought it was some sort of mark of cultural achievement, to have a motorcycle and a leather jacket, to ride their bikes and frequent hole-in-the-wall joints like The Den, drink their lite beers and go back to what could only be described as their normal lives.  The white picket fences.  The families waiting at home.  The nine-to-five jobs that no one cared about.

    Was the Brotherhood any better?

    From what he had heard, through the talks with Dave and his time behind bars, a clear picture had been formed in his mind.  The shambles and ruins of what the Club was once.  More boys than men, full of piss and vinegar, all talk and bravado.  Slinging meth on the streets.

    What happened to the club he once knew?  What happened to the club he embraced and loved like a family?  In ten years, the club that once struck fear into the hearts of men and law enforcement alike, had been burned away by the fires of time.  What was left of the once famed club, the club he had sweated for, bled for, killed for, was reduced to nothing more but the cinders of a time forgotten.  Looked after by fools who didn't know what they were doing, who were all bark, no bite.

    Would they do what he had done for the club?  Could they survive as he had survived?  It was doubtful, an uncomfortable pit in his stomach.  What was he going to do, he wondered, taking another long drag of the beer as he let his thoughts roam over the uncertain future
    « Last Edit: January 14, 2017, 08:43:48 PM by GnothiSeauton »

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

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    Don't Let Me Down




    Idea:  Again, this is another inverse of a previous idea, where I would be playing the other character.

    This is one of my longest-standing ideas from when I first joined this site, and it's one that's been very near and dear to my heart.  It's a story about two former lovers, the love of each others' lives, who, after a sudden and abrupt seperation, reunite after years apart, with one of the women attempting to escape an abusive relationship.

    My Character:  My character is a lesbian female police officer.  She's comfortable with who she is, her struggles in life helping to shape and strengthen her.  She's a tough, comforting presence, but one who still wrestles with the demons of her past.

    Your Character:  Your character would be a married female who's in an abusive marriage.  Sexuality is up to you, as is her past and background.  My original thoughts were a woman from a deeply religious family who, after finding out about the relationship, cut the girl off completely (my character would not know what is going on), and is sent to a religious camp to sort of pray the gay away.

    Theme/Outlook:  I saw this as a difficult reunion between the two of them, but still one that is rewarding for each other deep down.  This could also go in several directions, with perhaps her just running away from her husband, or having killed him, and is on the run.  I am more than open to discussing just about anything.




    There were few things in the world that could ruin a night after a long shift for Gwendolyn. 

    It was her time to relax and unwind, her moment to rest and ease her body and mind from the stresses and demands that came with the job.  The black and blue uniform was exchanged for soft, cozy pajamas.  The weapon and radio on her person turned in for a cigarette and something strong to numb herself into a comfortable stupor of relaxation.  She would settle herself in on the couch, after taking care of Sparkplug and feeding herself, the booze and nicotine soothing as she lost herself in this show or that show, feeling the worries of the world slip away into a blissful nothingness.

    It was hard to jolt her from that routine after a shift.  The phone was so often turned off, cut off from the outside world.  The curtains and blinds in the windows closed to dissuade any neighbors coming over to pay her an unexpected visit.  Those nights after a long shift were supposed to be calming, relaxing.  Instead, that night was anything but calm and relaxing.

    For the longest time, Gwendolyn Miller sat in silence, staring at the paper that sat upon the coffee table before her.  A seemingly simple piece of paper.  Against the dark, worn wood of the table, the paper stuck out brilliantly with it’s pale yellow hue.  Her eyes were focused so intently upon it, staring through the haze of cigarette smoke that ever so gracefully danced upon the warm summer night air.  The seemingly simple piece or paper, with it’s “WHILE YOU WERE OUT…” title bold and black against the yellow stationary, with it’s scribble of a phone number and a vague name, had long since been committed to memory from the long hours spent staring at it.  Even though it seemed like just another piece of paper, a piece of office stationary, for Gwendolyn words could not do true justice to the meaning of that damned little piece of paper.

    She had thought it was nothing at first, when she picked up her mail from the little cubby hole at the station.  A piece of paper that had just been another piece of paper.  Sometimes her neighbors called, left a message asking for her to check out this or that.  Sometimes it was a friend of her father's reaching out to connect.  Sometimes it was nothing more than just junk.

    How long had it been since she had heard from her?  Too long, she thought to herself.  A lifetime...  For so long, the name that had been written onto the paper in the dull blue ink had haunted her.  A phantom that was nothing more than a thought, a memory in the back of her mind.  Until that night, when she looked at the paper with a sense of dread, of excitement, of anxiety, of pain...

    The first thought that crossed her mind, as she settled in at home on the couch, looking over the old mail and messages, had been that the paper was nothing more than some joke.  A cruel joke.  She would not have put it past any of the guys on the squad to try and pull some sort of joke on the only woman on the small force. 

    But that thought, that possibility, was only fleeting.  She told no one about her...  Not when the pain still felt too real, too deep, even after so many years. 

    What was she doing, calling and looking for her?  Why would she try to reconnect after so many years?  Why, after the way things were left?  Why, after so many letters that went unanswered, so many calls that went ignored?

    Gwendolyn took another long drag of the cigarette, her hand trembling.  For so long, she had tried to put the love of her life out of her head, out of her mind, out of her heart.  For so long, she tried to move past the one that had hurt her so much, who still haunted her for so many years...  She went out, dated, drank and fucked, tried to do everything and anything she could to put the past behind her like her love had...

    A part of her screamed to tear the paper up and throw it away.  Destroy it.  She was reminded of how many nights were spent crying, nights full of pain, wishing her carebear was still there with her.  Could she open herself up to that again?

    Her fingers shook as she dialed the number on the phone.  A sigh of emotion escaped her lips as she hit the call button, bringing the phone to her ear to call the love of her life who destroyed her life.
    « Last Edit: January 31, 2017, 06:59:51 PM by GnothiSeauton »

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

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    Owed




    Idea:  Another inverse of another idea of mine, entitled Owned, listed above.

    This idea is intended to be a slow burn of a psychodrama.  A woman who wants her freedom, and a man who wants her.  Following a few encounters together through their normal relationship of an escort and her client, the young lady comes to depend upon her client for shelter, food, and protection.  It's a mutually beneficial relationship for a time, but what happens when they both eventually want more out of each other?  For her, it's her freedom, her chance to do more of what she likes in the form of her career.  For him, he just wants more of her that is so often isolated.

    It's not going to be instantaneous.  Again, I intend for this to be a slow burn.

    My Character:  The character I am going to be writing is one that I've been wanting to write for some time.  He's a family man, loving and caring, attentive at home to his wife and family.  Successful in his career, becoming a federal judge in the U.S. Justice System.  But despite having his career and family, there's always been something missing in his life...

    Your Character:  Your character would be a younger (late teens, early twenties) female escort.  I would love it if the character was not one who was sad or depressed about their career, but rather feels empowered and enjoys what she does.

    Theme/Outlook:  With this being a slow burn, I wanted to explore the adulterous relationship, that begins as business, turns personal, and becomes toxic.




    They sat around the glass conference table acting like children.  The voices of the young law clerks and secretaries waged a battle for dominance over one another.  Cases were sited for one side, cases were sited for the other.  Legal opinions and court decisions read over and over again.  Papers were rifled through on the table that was filled with law books, boxes of files, and copious amounts of legal pads.  The battle field, he liked to call it, that little space of a conference table that was taken up as either side went on in arguments.  All in an attempt to persuade more to their prospective sides in the case that was before them. 

    But for the one person whose opinion was the only one that mattered, Judge Travis Williams had long ago made up his mind about the case at hand.

    He could have stepped in at any moment.  With a simple look, he could have quieted the young minds, put an end once and for all in his chambers to the heated and animated discussion like so many before it.  But truth be told, he actually enjoyed watching them go at it with their knowledge and blossoming expertise as they tried to gain his favor in the debate, as well as his praise in their young, developing legal careers.

    In some ways he was reminded of his children when he sat at the head of the table, watching his clerks and researchers argue their sides over the case that was the point of discussion.  The way they went at each other, trading facts and arguments, lobbing opinions and decisions at one another, felt primal in a way, as if he were watching a savage fight take place before his eyes.  They would tear each other apart, fight and grapple with each other, all in the competitive race for his favor and praise. 

    Was this how a king felt, watching their knights fight and joust, all for his entertainment?  Was this how a Roman plutocrat felt when watching his gladiators fight, all for his favor?

    He traded a glace over to his right.  Doris, the only person in the room who was over fifty like him, mirrored the soft smirk upon her face.  She knew all too well he was enjoying the slug fest taking place in front of them.

    Travis felt no need to step in and settle the heated debate.  It was entertaining for him, and good for them.  Let them bloody each other with their pointed remarks and rhetoric.  Some might relish the moment, and walk away victorious.  Some might feel nothing but contempt for their fellow clerk, and walk away scorned and defeated.  They would need the experience, if they wanted to carry on after their clerkship with him expired, and they went on to the real world, the rough and miserable world of law firms and legal practice.

    A part of him yearned to get into the fight himself.  He was reminded of his own days as a clerk.  That first day, feeling so high and mighty, so established, having been selected to clerk in his first year out of law school.  His reality check came soon enough, his first day that had begun in such a confident, good way, at the top of the world, feeling like he had hit rock bottom by the end, getting chewed up and spit out by the others in his group.  He had been so young, so stupid back then. 

    But it was these fights, these arguments, that made clerking fun.  Finally put to the test, where your arguments truly mattered in the private chambers, trying to sway the judge to one side or the other.  These argumentative conclaves were the fires that forged you into the student and advocate of the law, strengthening you, hardening you, making you into the better lawyer and, if you were lucky enough, judge, in the end. 

    One thing he did not enjoy, however, was how late and tedious the meetings could run.

    It was getting late, he thought, with a look to the gold watch upon his wrist.  Far later than he had anticipated.  Did he want to sit in traffic for hours?  Helene would tell him to stay in the city, that it would not be worth the two hour drive through commuter traffic and frigid weather conditions just for a few hours of rest before having to get up early and start all over again.

    The clerks arguing their cases hardly noticed in their fervent arguments that Travis rose from his seat.  Gently he gave Doris a nod to the phone in his hand.  A silent understanding passed between them as he slipped out of the conference room and into the quiet serenity of his adjoining office.

    Slowly he wandered over to the windows, his eyes looking out across the snowy landscape of Philadelphia.  Already traffic was becoming a nightmare, the streets below ensnared in entanglements and accidents. 

    “I was wondering when I was going to here from you.” Helene's voice said through the speaker of his phone.  The dry tone, tinged with amusement, brought a smirk to Travis's face.

    “I lost track of time in the War Room.” He explained, his blue eyes looking to the dark, heather gray sky.  “I suppose you know what I'm going to say, huh?”

    “I suppose you know what I'm going to say too.”

    Travis chuckled softly.  “Did I miss anything?  Other than you, of course.”

    Helene snorted softly in amusement.  “Not really.  Kevin's got a friend staying over for dinner.  Beth is locked in her room, deep in midterm studying.  Catelyn got an B on her science project, and won't stop hounding me for a puppy.” Helene reported.  A sigh escaped her lips.  “I don't know about the puppy.”

    “You say that now.  But if we get one, you'll be all over it like it was your baby.”

    “I could see that.”

    Travis grinned to himself as he took another glance down at his watch.  “Listen.  I've got to get back in there before someone kills someone.  But we can talk about the puppy thing when I get home tomorrow.”

    “I'm looking forward to it.” Helene said, the slight playfulness in her voice unmistakable.  “Stay safe, please?  I'm not ready to do the whole widowed, single mother thing.”

    A chuckle escaped his lips.  “I'll do my best.” He said.  “I love you.  Stay warm.”

    “You too.” She said.  “I love you too.”

    With the call ended, Travis remained at the window, looking out at the snowbound city, debating his next course of action.  Did he want to spend the night alone?  Stuck in the city with nothing but himself and work to keep him company?  How long had it been since he treated himself, Travis asked, searching through his memory, and soon his phone.

    Too long, he thought, as he scrolled through his contacts.  Far too long, he thought, as he pressed send on the highlighted number saved in his phone.

    “Artemis Associates.” The cool, young female voice said over the phone.  “How may I direct your call?”

    “I'd like to speak to Patricia, please.” Travis said promptly, not missing a beat as he continued.  “Tell her it's Sven Lewis in City Center.”

    “Yes sir, Mr. Lewis.” The young woman said.  “One moment please.”

    Patiently Travis waited, idly listening to the piano jazz music playing through the phone.  His mind drifted.  What was he in the mood for that night?  For the life of him, he couldn't decide, torn between so many possibilities, though he was so often hesitant to have repeat encounters.  What could he have to sate himself?

    A soft clicking sound, and the music ended, shifting as the receiver on the other end was lifted from it's cradle and brought forth.  “Well well, it's a pleasure to hear from you, Mr. Lewis.” Patricia greeted, a slight mock in the casual, business-like voice.  “I do hope this is a my-sort of business call rather than your-business call.”

    Travis grinned softly.   “No no, nothing like that, thankfully.” He said.  “How are you this frigid afternoon?”

    “Oh, you know me, I'm staying warm and cozy.” She said with a grin in her voice.  “How can I help you, Travis?”

    “I'm snowbound in the city tonight, it looks like.” He said, his eyes looking down upon the mess that was traffic in the city below.  “I was thinking it would be nice to have someone to stay and keep me warm and comfortable tonight.”

    “Say no more.  It's on me tonight, after everything you've done for me in the past.” She said.  “Was there anything in particular you were in the mood for tonight?”

    “I have quite a few things in mind, if I'm being honest.” Travis laughed softly, picking at his tie.  “How about you pick something for me tonight.  You know what I like.”

    A sensuous laugh came from the other end.  “Young.  New.  Yeah, I know what you like.” She said, with what sounded like a drag of a cigarette.  “I think I might have a girl in mind for you.  Though, if it gets around that you came calling, I know some girls will be upset I didn't send them to you.”

    “Oh, I'm sure.” He said in a sarcastic fashion.  “I'm going to be staying at the Ambassador in all likelihood.  Have your girl come find me in the Blue Room at seven, if that'll work.”

    “I'll move heaven and earth for you, sweetheart.” Patricia said.  “Anything for you.”

    ~ ~ ~

    It was a little bit before seven when Travis was seated in a booth overlooking the city.  There was hardly a crowd in the intimate, cozy dining room of the Blue Room. 

    Only a few of the many tables had people dining or drinking.  Others like him, he supposed, stuck in the city with no place to go.  It was a quiet, intimate place, one that made Travis feel all the more comfortable as he sat upon the blue leather of the booth, and drank his sparkling water in a patient sort of silence.

    Quietly he drank.  His thoughts drifted to the pile of cases that sat upon the docket in his mind, the crowded calendar that only continued to grow.  Between work and home, it was nights such as this which he savored to the fullest.  Nights to himself where he could unwind and relax, to be sated and pleased, rather than having to be the one who served.

    It would be a good night, he thought.  He was determined to make it so as he sat and waited for his companion for the evening, whoever she was, to join him.

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

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    The Old College Try




    Idea:  This is intended to be a sort of prequel to my previous ideas (and posts here) entitled Don't Let Me Down.  Essentially, I'm looking to write a romance with someone about two women, from different walks of life, different upbringings, different personalities, finding a deep, life-altering love that neither of them expected to find during college.

    My Character:  I'm looking to write a young woman who has lived a somewhat privileged, but strict and conservative upbringing.  She's been sheltered for much of her life from the world beyond her parents and church teachings, and is trying to explore and step out of her shell now that she's in college and away from home.  I saw her as someone who is uncertain with her sexuality, dealing with her desires and that of her upbringing.

    Your Character:  For your character, I was hoping for a more masculine/butch woman who is comfortable with herself and her surroundings, and is something of an aspiring artist.  Instead of doing the practical thing like so many others in choosing a major for their future, she chooses something that interests her.  Just an example.  Background and personality up to you.  I have some ideas for faces, but am more than happy to defer to your decision.

    Theme/Outlook:  I want this to be a romance story, with interest developing between the two of them, and both of them helping each other become better than they were before they met.  I saw them meeting through your character posting an ad looking for a woman comfortable posing nude for an art project on campus.  I have a few ideas for scenes, just silly little moments in their lives that bring them closer together.





    Georgia

    To say Georgia was nervous would have been a good contender for under of the century.

    Ever since the e-mail exchange, she could feel it building within her.  A steady, gradual pace, strengthening as the time went on and slowly ticked away to that very moment.  It haunted her, percolating in her mind with each hour that passed.  Try as she might to try and focus on other things, whether it was her studies or throwing herself into whatever entertainment she could find, the weight of what she was going to do was a constant companion.

    It was not too late to turn back with a phony, reasonable excuse.  Her heart was racing more than it ever had before in her life.  She was sure that, if one were to look closely, the sight of her heart, beating with such ferocity, could be seen even through the layers she wore to protect from the cold of winter.  Her fists remained balled up in the pockets of her leather jacket, head bowed against the wind as she crossed the university commons.   She could not be deterred, and would not be deterred, from doing what she wanted to do.

    That was what mattered in that moment.  Despite the nervousness and anxiety that remained, despite the wild fluttering of her heart, despite the small, little voice in the depths of her mind that she had listened to almost all her life urging retreat, Georgia wanted to do it.

    It was going to be alright, she knew.  It wasn't some guy, or group of dudes, or some old stranger that was waiting for her, but another woman.  There was comfort in that, knowing that she wouldn't be taken advantage of, that what they were going to do was going to be tastefully done, and not some pornographic attempt at art.  Still...  The thought of posing nude for art provided more than enough anxiety to overshadow all of that.

    Her mother would have had a heart attack if she knew what her daughter was doing.  And in a way, Georgia knew that was part of the reason why she was there, going across the commons on the cold night to another dorm.  For too long she had lived under the rigid, conservative rule of her parents, from being sent to private christian academies to being forced to spend summers in church summer camps.  It had been a miracle to get her parents to acquiesce to letting her go to a public university, even more so when considering the distance between school and home.

    She had been determined, from the very moment she won them over, to go out and step out of her mother and father's impositions, to do things differently, experience the world in ways she had never gotten to before.  Finding the little ad on the bulletin board, looking for potential models for an art project, had been a sign of fate in her mind.  Out of all the notices, the community classifieds, that little ad had caught her attention, had pulled her in almost immediately.

    And a few days later, a few days of quiet back and forth, she was finally there, about to take the biggest step outside of her comfort zone.  Though nervous, filled with anxiety, there was an excitement there, deep down within herself.  An excitement that began to build and build as she knocked upon the dorm room of the student artist, and waited.
    « Last Edit: January 31, 2017, 07:03:31 PM by GnothiSeauton »

    Offline GnothiSeautonTopic starter

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    Contested



    Idea:  This was a bit of a twist of one of my older ideas entitled "Whipped", in that a younger se worker becomes the object of an older client's obsessive desires.  But this has been changed a bit over time, with more of a focus on the relationship between the two as the surroundings change and become somewhat contentious.

    My Character:  I'm looking to write the role of a successful female senator in her late thirties.  One of the true independents, well liked on both sides of the political aisle, an endorsement desired by both sides.  But beneath the charming smile lays a sociopath with a cold heart, willing to do what it takes to achieve her heart's desires.

    Your Character:  Totally up to you.  I would be fine with any gender; male, female, or transgender more than acceptable to me.  I saw them as being a bit on the younger side (twenties or so).

    Themes and Outlook:  I would really like to focus this as a political drama of sorts.  I saw the relationship between the two of them becoming more and more strained and contentious as it unfolds, with my senator becoming more and more possessive over her secret lover.  More than happy to discuss more.





    Ashley Whitman
    Senator, California (I)

    The cold, winter night's air felt so completely blissful upon her face.  It's crispness was a much welcomed change from the inside of the building, soothing and refreshing after having to make the rounds of the rich and powerful.  She could have stood there for hours, watching her breath steam in the air, floating up into the dark, cold gray sky.

    It always made her think back to when she was but a child.  Looking out of the window each and every winter, hoping, wishing, praying for snow. Such nights made her reflect on that childhood mysticism that accompanied winter.  How nice it would be, to go back to those times.  Those simpler, easier times, when the greatest thing in the world on nights like that would have been a blizzard of snow.

    Her melancholic thoughts were dashed away with the coming rush of reporters.

    It took a certain amount of control to keep from groaning out loud.  Instead of giving the disdain she felt for them, Ashley put on her best smile and grin, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her long coat as she began to make her way down the steps.  Security came up around her like a protective shield, keeping the hungry sharks at bay as she gave them a little nibble for their sites.  A trademark smile.  A wave here and there.  Just enough to keep them sated.

    “Senator Whitman!” One of them called out, brandishing a phone.  “What are your thoughts on Secretary Donaldson's surprise wins in South Carolina and Michigan?”

    Ashley allowed a soft, amused laugh to escape her lips.  “I wouldn't say they're surprising.” She lied.  “The Secretary is a very capable and deft individual.”

    “Are you close to endorsing one of the three, Senator?” Another voice called out.

    A few more steps, she reminded herself.  The car was there, waiting at the curb, the black SUV of peace and quiet.  All she had to do was to make it there while walking the delicate tightrope that was Washington Politics.  “Now now, I don't think it would be prudent of me to endorse anyone at this time.” She said.  “I think any of the three are excellent candidates with strengths and weaknesses like all others before.”

    More questions were shouted out, words clawing at one another for dominance over one another.  She said her peace, had given them just enough to chew on for their articles and posts.  “No more questions tonight, I'm afraid.” She said.  “Momma has to get home and get some rest before getting up with the kids in the morning!”  They ate it up with a few chuckles and snickers.  They all always ate that shit up, when it was served with a grin and smile.

    A few more moments, she thought, keeping the pleasant, cheerful demeanor on her face, as the opposite door opened, and a man slid in beside her.  The warm, inviting smile kept upon her face for just a few more moments, until the car eased forward and began to creep down the busy avenues.

    “Jesus Christ.” She murmured, removing a glove from her hand to massage her dimples.  “If I have to put on one more goddamn fake smile tonight...”

    Mark Dalton laughed beside her.  “I think you're done for the night, Senator.” Her chief of staff remarked.

    “Did Donaldson really win South Carolina and Michigan?” She asked.  “Who the hell did he screw to get that?”

    “It's looking that way.” Dalton remarked as the glow of his phone illuminated the back of the cab.  “Thirty five in S.C., and thirty seven in Michigan.  Brewer got thirty four and thirty, respectively.  Jones got thirty one and thirty three.”

    Ashley could not help but to allow an amused chuckle to escape her lips.  It wasn't surprising, the three way tie in the primaries.  For weeks, close to months, the polling was suggesting that the three would be running close races.  But none predicted that the Secretary of Homeland Security was going to pull out wins in the states.

    The party heads had to be going nuts, she thought to herself.  They had all thought it would be a cakewalk.  An easy path to victory to dethrone the failing Republican president.  Select a leader they could all rally behind around, a candidate that could unite the party and the country.  And instead, they seemed to have a three-headed viper on their hands, snipping and snapping at each head, all in the name of democracy.

    “You know the calls are only going to increase, right, Ash?” Dalton asked, his tone going more serious.  “They're not going to stop.  You're the crown jewel.”

    Ashley could only nod her head at that truth.  She did not need to be told, to be reminded, of the position she was in.  Her poll numbers were high in her home state of California.  The It Girl of Washington.  Respected and admired by both parties.  The true Independent.  She, who kept her self above the infighting, who stayed out of the mudslinging and forged working friendships and relationships on both sides of the aisle, who helped to salvage troubled bills and legislation.

    They all wanted her at their campaigns and rallies.  Both Democrats and Republicans courted the lone Independent of the Senate like Scarlet O'Hara in Gone with the Wind.  Supplying the endless flattery, the constant invitations, etc., etc.  They all wanted her, a victory to say to the American People that they were the right candidate for their races.  It didn't matter if it was a mayoral seat in the middle of nowhere in California, or the Democratic candidates for president.

    They would call, and call.  Pour on the pressure to endorse one of them.  To choose between the three of the unsavory choices.

    Secretary of Homeland Security Terry Donaldson, with his too extreme, hawkish views.  Representative Michelle Brewer of Massachusetts, with her pie-in-the-sky dreams and far-too-left views.  Governor Andrew Jones, of New Jersey, with that slimy reputation and past scandals.  They all had their baggage, and to choose between any of the three was if to choose a method of execution.

    Ashley leaned forward to the front, and the driver behind the wheel.  “Paul, take me to the Apartment.”

    The driver only gave a curt nod as Ashley sat back.  Dalton, on the other hand, could not resist injecting himself.  “Tonight?” The man asked, raising an eye brow. 

    “Yes.” She said, putting her head against the cold glass of the window and closing her eyes.  “After two and a half hours of shaking hands and trying to raise money, I wanted it.  And now, knowing that I'm going to have to deal with those three buffoons tomorrow, I'm going to need it.”

    “Do you have a preference for the night?” Dalton asked, undoubtedly looking through the listings of the site on his phone. 

    A moment passed, as she rested her head against the mirror, drinking in the cooling sensation to fight off the looming headache.  She debated what she wanted that night, what sort of mood she was in.  “Surprise me.” She said.  “You know what I like.”

    “Blue or pink?”

    Again, she fell silent, debating the offer.  A boy, or a girl?  “Surprise me.”