The Beginning
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The Raven

The Misery and the Majesty
The Israeli and the Isolated Slide
Four Days
The Dash, the Bartender, and Juliette -- I
Jasmine and the Bleeding Prostitute -- II

[08:33 pst 01/06/2018 CE, 1515256380 E]

Further streamlining has taken place, and the content remains unchanged since the outset of the year. We are striving to maintain simplicity here.

The framework has been working extremely well and is supported like no other aspect of the web. The branching out we were hoping to complete by the end of 2017 has not even begun, and DP sits idle with no hope of any expansion nor realization of production. Admin carries on with the narrow theme here, and we go with it.


The Misery and the Majesty

"The calendar rolls over me like a freight train. The toast of seventeen feels as if it took place five minutes ago. Fuck. Now the bleach box of eighteen is upon me, and the feelings are dropping through the floor. All of the activities related to the fourth and master seasons are over, and the only thing which remains is the upward swing of daylight. Again, fuck. Things need to improve and soon.

And the misery continues to consume.

After Alexis and all that she represented, the outline of my current situation, and all of the exploration throughout these many months since the Raven departed, little has changed other than the miniscule daily comforts. In fact, the tilt which enables the slide seems to be worsening. I cannot find relief, and the options carry on with their narrowing forces. Until something dynamic or dramatic occurs, the near path is clear: doom. And I am going to embrace the countdown for the third time since its creation. There seem no other directions. Too much has taken place throughout the last seven years, and none of it with clarity. The events leading up to this still-undefined period share a similar lack of focus, and the new issues are serving to reinforce all of my instability. Distractions are still effective, however the lengths to which I must stretch myself for day to day survival are becoming mentally and emotionally overwhelming. From one moment to the next, I literally have no idea if I will be able to continue forward on any given day -- working or otherwise. I honestly have no direction and diminishing reasons for trying. Perhaps the end is nigh.

And perhaps that fact will help not just myself, but it may also free others of my ongoing difficulties.

Now that the endlessly depressive preamble is out of the way, one point of order must be addressed. Back to Alexis and that void which was touched upon some months ago. Since then, the issue has been pushed a step further and into the black hole which represents my desire. In these late days, the combination of the obsession and the desire has spidered out of manageable territory and become an insurmountable obstacle against which I continuously ram my sorry head. There is no way up or around. Just nothing. And the lack of an outlet has become dire... bad things are about to take place. They are on the doorstep and awaiting another questionable decision. None of this is Alexis' fault. Everything is me.

And I will not survive without the resources necessary to force a change. The upcoming excursion to the Sea (which I will touch upon further down the line) may be a great help with clearing out all of the desirable aspects of daily life, but it could also be a complete disaster of massive proportions when the memories begin to flood my head. The two of us are heading down there this month to go on a photo tour of sorts. I am hoping that the trip will be therapeutic and helpful. If things can be reorganized within my head, perhaps the desire and obsession will not be the end of me. Time will tell. As for how that trip relates to the above misery, read on.

The Brunette displayed such an expression often

The beginning of the heartbreak during that week was before we left the Brunette's cave and hit the road. A massive hole had developed between us, and part of the issue with me was the aforementioned desire. Right now the desire is destroying me, and to head down the road to one of the scenes of the many crimes and deal with the same lacking aspects of life seems a backward plan. It is a backward plan, in fact, and one which may or may not lead to destruction. The brunette is going to be swirling around my head constantly. Every step in and around those desperate locales is going to be filled with memories of that wondrous time, but being there with someone else could actually be a great help. We will be traveling together and creating different situations and feelings which can be brought home and considered, rather than going alone and spiraling into a hole by retreading the past.

And the issues will be following along.

The main deal here is the desire -- as outlined along with Alexis and her endlessly hopeful eyes. That woman absolutely kills the camera in every conceivable way, and to see her smiling with the devilish expressions and brutally gorgeous look places me within the desire every fucking time. And the goddamned problems begin to roll up like a massive blanket attempting to hide a dead body.

So where is the fucking majesty? Heh. Somewhere.

The trip has been chronicled here, but I never really touched upon the physical aspect of the relationship at that time. The main point was to outline the drive and places we visited, and how the landscape began to relate to our emotional condition and the state of our romance. I will say that the desire was overwhelming at times (just as now), but we did not discuss the subject very often due to all of the other issues at work. Now, of course, and in the midst of such fucked up and pressing questions regarding my future, the trip may end up being the proverbial knife to send me into the ground both mentally and emotionally. For some reason I am looking forward to hashing through many of the thoughts which seemed unsolvable at the time, and it seems backward and ill-conceived. The visions which float through my head from time to time are all rolled into the connectedness of everything placed in this long writing, and the Sea seems a place where I may be able to sort through them. I just don't know.

I can be ready to travel, and I can be ready to climb into the lens again, but can I be ready to attempt an organization of thoughts, dreams, and desires while wandering around that sad sea?

Perhaps I should be sure to pack the knife.

Playful... as defined by Michelle

The desire is something which I simply cannot get around or ignore. I have been forced to do such things for years now, but just as I stated in the entry which displays Alexis, shit is coming to a head at an alarming rate. The world beware. The trip is going to come at a time when everything seems to be amplified since the previous outing, and when I decided to lay everything out here. In the beginning, the ambiguity was extremely important and I maintained some semblance of distance between the world in my head and the one which I publish. As time goes by, things are not so simple, and to control the words in such a fashion is becoming very difficult. Short of stating things with complete clarity, I will continue to broach each facet here and there. I no longer have a choice.

So the fucking trip approaches at speed, and the desire burns my being with a similar velocity. What to do? Walk into the salty, fish-laden Sea and drown into one of the most endearing places I have ever seen? Become part of it? Die there? Or is there a solution? One of these days I am going to search out and isolate all of the questions placed within these writings and count them. Fuck. I am going to attempt to focus upon the landscape and scenery, and try to capture details which may have been passed on the first occasion. After perusing the maps and satellite images I have made somewhat of a schedule for where to visit and when. January means the air will be mild and not as heavy as summer, and that forecast matches the inside of my head.

Off we will go into the browns and grays, cameras in hand. The previous trip was filled with turmoil and uncertainty while this trip will only hold wonder and the aforementioned misery. I will turn it off during the day... night is another story. Just as this very moment within the editor, it is present and making me uncomfortable. There is no getting around it. Always there... always burning. Considering the goddess and related trials, the Raven with her unending appeal, and the Brunette who became one of the most satisfying outlets ever, I am now without any of them and left to wonder if this condition will serve to dominate eighteen. The trip is just weeks away, and along with a new development on the homefront I may be able to expand and consume... and holy shit is it ever needed. Help me, please. Option B is not pleasant.

Until such time as things clarify, the desire will attach itself to the obsession and remain within like a storm awaiting physical destruction. The whole of it is my doing.

And it is growing.

And with so much emotion

Oak Street.

I walked out of the building, carrying items to the vehicle. As I opened the door and stepped to the sidewalk, in front of me was a startled young woman heading for the trash cans. I stopped to let her pass and said 'happy new year'. She smiled and returned the expression, then continued about her business. I then said 'sorry to have startled you.' She again smiled with lovely eyes and said 'no worries... have a good day'. And then another... strolling toward me with phone in hand and headphones donned. She appeared to be of Slavic descent and displayed a form seen in worldwide print. Ungodly legs, thin waist, and long fingers. She looked up at me in passing as if I was evil incarnate, and paced her way past me. As my eyes followed, I saw the form of the Israeli and proceeded to the vehicle with a drowning head. The woman was art and I could do nothing about it. No QR card, no smile, no words.

No nothing. Fuck me... again.

Her shape is still in there, too. It will not float away just as so many others throughout the years. What a sight. As much as the goddess had provided, there was still no realizing the dream at all. I never made it happen during all of those heavenly days together. And then that incredible shape went by and left me deeply damaged for what seems the billionth time. Normally I would sit here and attempt a description, but honestly what is the fucking point? Thousands of lines of code have already been put forth to the world in search of the proper wording to get something like that across, but I am afraid I just cannot any more. All of the time spent considering such beauty and complex mathematics has resulted in exactly shit. Nothing can ever be enough. And I wish I could have told her that. Perhaps the simplicity of a smile and a touch of understanding would keep my sorry ass out of the fucking fire. Nope... nothing.

God damn this feeling anyway.

Now all I have is the steadily increasing sunlight and decreasing interest in trying. What about the cards? Well, several have been handed to others, but as of now not one fucking word in my direction. I am not surprised... I wouldn't contact me either. New year, new me? Hell no, the same old everything, and the same location in more ways than one. That walk past me was something with which I cannot easily work. It just will not leave. Every detail, from her compound inner thighs to her waistline which screamed at me to the fluidity of her motions, all of it is now permanently burned into my deviant and damaged desire. And none of it is her fault. There can be no responsibility anywhere for the fact that she looked like the Israeli. And did she ever resemble that most figurative of models. The numbers may kill me.

Eyebrows of a goddess

The information in my head will follow along to the incredible majesty that is the Sea. Remembering the previous visit to that wondrous place may help to ease the difficulty with the desire, or it may not. The Brunette displayed all of it, too, and she was all around me for days. But I knew her, and I was able to do as I wished much of the time while we were calm. And that was before the goddess. So, with everything rolled into a painful ball in my brain, the landscape is going to have to become paramount -- lest I lose it once and for all.

The young one also holds the numbers, and the desire is all over her. She will wander and shoot and I will wander and wonder. Heh. I will wonder what is going to take place when the sum of me crashes. Oak Street was a decent example of my inability to consume a vision and allow it to fly away. Around the Sea, there will be only the young one near me and that should give me room. She understands. I wish I did. That place is full of history... both good and bad. Such a fact aligns with my current mindset, too. The past attempts to both understand and accept things over which I have little or no control are attached to the issues which have grown within me over the years. The Raven and the goddess helped me to find reasons, and both allowed everything -- including trying to convince me that the obsession is not deviant, and the desire is natural. They spoke of those things with tenderness and respect. The Sea is quiet enough so that all of it will doubtless swirl within me and perhaps the landscape can help with some necessary organization. I am not certain, but the possibility cannot be denied. Of course, that part of the state may also press me into a small place and cause nothing but damage. Hmm. We shall see shortly.

Visions, visions, and more visions. That woman on Oak... fuck.

This outlet is all I have at the moment. And for the time being it will have to be enough. The thoughts of the trip are good, and combined with personal exploration the sum may prove fruitful for the future. If I can get that damned sight out of my head things can be sorted to a degree, too. There will certainly be no one in that area to compare. Palm Desert is quite affluent, although keeping my eyes in the viewfinder should isolate temporarily. And as for the Sea and its surroundings, well, no worries there. I just need to focus on the necessities and keep my head in the work. The comfort of the young one will be there, as well. She is one of the few saving throws versus difficulty that I have left, aside from memories.

I do love the fact that I am not going to that haunting place alone. The idea of being there by myself with no schedule whatsoever leads me to believe that I would likely end up heading toward the goblet for lack of a better outlet. The Sea can captivate and grapple my attention, and being there with another means I will have a second soul with which to contend. And that also means somewhat of a plan from one day to the next. That is good, and will keep me from wandering into places I should avoid.

Yes... eyebrows I was unable to resist

Oak Street? Still there, still steaming in my brain. She will not soon go away. Yes, she will even be in there while among the tilapia and palms (remember those early entries?). The lens will do its best to capture the majesty that is the Sea. And I will do my best to avoid dropping off the edge of the world. The young one and the camera may combine to keep me steady in thought, or the past will overtake me and leave me trembling in her arms -- again. Who knows which? No one.

Despite the possible ramifications, I am going to that part of the state to help organize and come to terms with all that took place during those months of ten and eleven. If the Sea speaks to me the way it did on the first trip, I will be returning here with a head full of material for entries. Otherwise, things may not turn out so well for anyone involved. I have been there and seen the beauty and the majesty. I have experienced the entire area, from the wildlife refuge to the south, and all the way to the north tip at Coachella and Thermal. I have taken in everything the Sea has to offer, shot and captured thousands of images and scenes from her shores, walked Salvation Mountain, and witnessed the devastation left in the wake of so many uncaring souls. I became a part of the Sea during that long trip, and brought back with me an understanding of the losses and isolation.

To return there is frightening and exciting.

I will go and walk the shores again. The young one will experience that desolation for the first time and bring it into her lens. We will explore the surrounding areas in earnest and in search of some semblance of comfort. The trip will hopefully allow me some closure to that long excursion with the Brunette, and may even help me to let go of a portion of the misery. Maybe. Maybe not.

Gazing and smelling the Sea again may also kill me once and for all."

[12:40 pst 02/10/2018 CE, 1518295200 E]

The beginning of the year is never good. Early on the staff complained about zero two, zero three, and zero four, but now we are facing eighteen and the time which has passed has left admin in a hole like never before. Zero three was the worst during the beginning of this, but this year's outset has left him a pile of bad things.


Other sections of the site left us last year, and the remaining sections are all about the feelings. Hopefully things will soon improve for all of us.


The Israeli and the Isolated Slide

"Down, down, down we go... into the familiar pit from which everything in the world seems bright. We are in the dim, dank void yet again. The girl at the show, the girl on Russian Hill, and the rest have become representations of the unending obsession which we cannot shake. And our recent partial exploration of the failing fantasy and that nonexistent aspect of life are disallowing any grip to cease or slow this slide into hell. So we continue without control.

Throughout the past few years, we have successfully pressed the issues and unrealized needs into a compartment. Said space was then disregarded (for the most part) and not explored until we found ourselves in front of this infernal editor. Lately, however, the effort required in keeping the negativity and depressive thought processes behind a partition has become overwhelming and we are now on our way down the fucking hill and into the detritus. For whatever reason, The Israeli became known to us and everything seemed to be put on its side. We nearly could not function. How does this happen? She is just another model, so the truth may be that her appearance in front of our eyes was merely timing. In this type of situation, anything can be a trigger. We were ready to slide and there she was.

Bright and beautiful, and with the hope and positivity which will likely carry her far in this life. Yes, the opposite of our current position. None of our shit is her fault, of course... the whole fucking mess is just the aforementioned timing. We have little control over what may pass before us on a given day, and here we are living the goddamned result. Everything seems to be downhill, but we have been here before, right? Why should the passage of time be any different? Right? Yes. The Israeli came into our view just like all the others. Timing. And her form is so similar to the Raven that we just had to stop other aspects of life and explore. She is so fucking picturesque that we are nearly losing our minds over her. Where did she come from? And why did we have to run across an image of her which led us to insanity? Jesus she is unreal, and the more we gaze, the more we see. And then the pain of not knowing begins and we end up here... as always.

Absolutely ideal form from head to toe

So we isolate like nothing else. We need to be alone and the idea of spending time in the company of others begins to become alien. The landscape has changed and pressed us into a situation similar to the days of the cave. That time has been described here. The difference between then and now is the desire and need. During the year spent within that space, our first priority was comfort. Now, the focus has shifted to something over which we have no control whatsoever. Everything aside from the daily trials of living has grown into an arduous climb up to... something. We do not know. The Israeli displayed here is yet another impossible vision which is assisting in our slide down into hell. We sit and gaze at her -- and she is beyond any worded description -- and the thoughts are in every conceivable direction. All of the needs become rolled into a ball and injected into us like never before. We have become frustrated, full of desires beyond belief, and shoved into a mental space the likes of which are very damaging. Much of the difficulty stems from her images here (and many more), but we cannot look away nor can we forget any of it. The massive obsession has now become related to the Failing Fantasy, and the combination is close to driving us into the ground at terminal speed.

Again... where from here?

The Israeli is here on the page, looking gorgeous and physically dominating our thought processes, and despite the unending trials her images have forced upon us, we cannot avoid any of it at all. We can only sit and stare and slide. And we are so alone on the slope that any possibility of upward is too much to consider. She is absolutely and positively one of the most desirable models that we have ever seen, and within us the trouble is mounting. The longer we hold this fucking position, the closer the option of putting it all away approaches. And we mean all of it for fuck's sake. Everything. It is just too much now.

Jesus fucking Christ, why did we have to be exposed to this model, and at the worst possible time. Everything is just bad and the slide is unending.

We are in a very bad place right now. With all of these issues rolling into each other and combining in ways with which we are having so much difficulty dealing, the slide is leading us into some very dangerous territory. The thoughts are now desperate and some of the avenues we are considering are both damaging and desperate. We have been here before but the now is quite amplified when compared to the then.

Her hip-to-waist is unreal

Her name is Maria. Just to place a name to her.

And just as we have stated within this entry as well as many others, the issues are not her doing. She is a model and going about her business making a living and enjoying life. She is a person, above all things, and to blame her or anyone else is both a waste of space and false. We will not do that, ever. The slide is our doing (despite the fact that we are also human and feelings are never right or wrong... they simply exist) and we know this. And that is part of the frustration -- the idea that we are feeling these things and there is seemingly no solution. This outlet helps at times, but in the end it is also an expansion of our desires. The obsession increases in magnitude, the needs overwhelm, and the outlet fails. There is just no satisfaction anywhere, nor at any time. The small pleasures are decreasing and the drowning continues.

So we just fucking sit here and think and think and think.

Michelle knew all about it and was open to anything we wished. For whatever reason, and from whatever place, our needs also helped her to feel as if she was important. And we are not speaking of her beauty or willingness to model. We are speaking of her wishes to connect emotionally and find a person capable of validating her feelings as a human being. Her heart was open to all of it, and she found what she sought in us. That situation was wonderful, however it still remains as one which created the slide. The isolation is necessary. Despite our connection to Michelle, we just cannot and will not involve another person and expand our diminishing ability to remain standing. Unfair. Just unfair.

And there is Maria and her big, bright, gorgeous eyes, looking outward toward anyone who is receptive. God damn the desires and the obsession. God damn the need, too. It is all damaging and physically crippling now.

Well, the coffee is still warm and the keyboard does as we wish. So to continue this shit is all we have. Welling inside is the aforementioned risky direction. It is close, by god, very close and we are scared. Do we go out and find it? Will it hurt us? Will it become too dangerous and cause others emotional harm? Or can it be worked in such a manner to help in some way? Who the fuck knows. We certainly do not know a fucking thing. But it may become the only way to get out of this crap and stay clear of la mer. Naturally we do not want that to happen... or do we? Maybe that is the only solution. As we stated here many years ago, there is an exit. The door is there and everything we are living within would be most decidedly left in the fucking dust. And then the wake will arrive and we will become an issue to others rather than to ourselves. Oy. Nope. Not now, and not soon.

Inner thigh compound radii of our dreams

Maria is painful to gaze upon. She is so beautiful that things within us get twisted into knots and we cannot fully function. Her fucking thigh radii are unreal to the last, and her narrow waist pushes at our psyche like the snowplow on a locomotive. It just presses with unrelenting force. We stare and stare and she only goes higher on the list of needs. And she nearly tops the obsession. Who made her? God must be a fucking genius. He broke the mold with that fucking woman.

Anyway, we are still here. Still writing, drinking, wallowing, needing, wanting, and forever bitching like a Bloomingdale's customer with a defective handbag. Why? Whatever. Being reduced to a complaining pile of shit is not something we had in mind during these late days. The sordid space still awaits the wordsmithing so we just go with it. And we go with the slide in our desperate isolation. And Maria stands with her amazing beauty and does not deserve to be a part of our emptiness. Fortunately, she is half a world away and knows nothing of this crap. For fuck's sake... what is going to happen? Anything?

Too many fucking questions.

The outlet is failing, and our desire to find what we need is growing out of control. The idea of seeking something could work in our favor, or it could end in disaster. The Raven knew this and helped in many ways, however we could not expand in the short time with her. The whole shitaree needs to be handled by ourselves, not by outside influence. Had we embraced the Raven when the time was available, who knows how things could have progressed. Or, how they may have fallen. There is just no knowing because she is most decidedly gone. And that may have been our only chance to find understanding within ourselves. So sad, yet it happened. Now, and not by a damned sight, we are all the way in and heading downward at an alarming rate. Even this very moment, and on this present day, another hash mark has appeared upon our gunstock. Yes, another.

Every single detail pushed into the likes of a goddess

A line we shall employ every fucking time... where from here? There is seemingly no up. Every time something comes along which brings us a moment's peace and happiness, the moment fades and we are back at square zero. And we mean zero. Those times arrive in which we are paralyzed within the office or otherwise. The walls begin to look stale and our outlook narrows to the point of pain. We are there now, and have been for some time. Normally this time of year -- the master season -- is one of hopeful thoughts and planning. This time, it is just as summer: shit, crap, and little else. We have the editor, the interface, and the alcohol, but then we look upon the images and realize the feelings and then the slide resumes.

And there is Maria and her absolutely amazing inner thighs.

So... here we are again (always). Those little moments which provide the boost had better come along soon, or we will end up too far down to recover. No blissful Saturday morning will be enough any longer."

[06:35 pst 02/17/2018 CE, 1518878100 E]

The site and systems are status quo once again. We are considering securing another top-level domain in order to streamline the site name and title. We are also creating a few statement images as well as legacy spots to place here and there. They should help to maintain the historical aspects of the site nicely.

Another multi-layered and many-part story is coming soon. Perhaps next week we will publish the single ended story waiting in the wings before diving into another series. That entry is somewhat of a prequel to the long and winding saga of the Brunette, Michelle... etc. Admin has been holding it back for whatever reason, however we are going to push it through next week.



"There is another... splayed upon this page and looking ever the sharp model with dimensions which have caused a measure of the depression which at this moment grasps at my soul and places me in the small space I own. Valentina is like many Russian models which capitalize on the absolute disparity of minimal body fat, large breasts, and the inner thigh radii that pushes at me to end my life. The idea of learning and creating a background summary of the numbers she and so many others carry on their bodies is sliding downward, just like my ambition to continue my sordid and black exploration of both them and myself. I am being folded in half, and the resulting position is one of hellish and suicidal darkness. And it continues, despite the recent stories of the past and their words of beauty and defeat. I am nearly done. Just as Phil Leotardo stated to Butch DeConcini...

'No more of this, Butchy. No more of this.'

If the feelings were only so easy to control and/or cease. Nope. I am trapped. And Valentina is here to show off my weakness and desire as few others are able. I am fucking chained to my desires and needs and running out of breath. This private space on the internet runs me in the neighborhood of a few thousand dollars per year to maintain and fill with thoughts from my deviant mind. The hardware continues to expand in order to keep everything safe from loss, and the domains which I personally own also expand as my needs dictate. The tens of thousands of code lines combined with the editing capabilities will increase, as well. There is no end to any of it, and until such time as I can either end the obsession or end myself, I remain chained to all of it like an abandoned bicycle rotting and rusting in a long-dead schoolyard. Even at this very moment in front of the infernal machine and with my sorry ass glued to the chair, I am hearing the soaring words of a man I cannot avoid -- the music of my very life and a different type of exploration related to the beauty of the world. Everything is connected to my obsession and desire.

Which adds up to me stating the obvious yet again: the situation will kill me. There is no longer any doubt, because there is no longer any hope. I will continue here until I cannot take any more of it, and then the site will evolve from my complaint department to my epitaph. Fucking count on it, people.

Another example of mental paralysis

Again I start with a depressive preamble. And again I move on. Back to Valentina and her goddess-like dimensions. Do you see the most personal of radii leading up her inner thigh and toward the labia? Should I be asking such a thing? Is it too private, or does she show off something which can be an acceptable study? Who fucking knows, and most will never care. I need to know like I need nothing else. Yes, I went on recently about the dying project and the fucking chair which is my only semblance of comfort left in the world, but honestly who thinks of such things? Who? Tell me, for crying out loud. Sure, there are billions of images on millions of sites, but do they head in such a direction as I have attempted? Fuck no. None of it seems to be anywhere but in my damaged mind and rolling off my fingers like the rain on a freeway-speed vehicle. Oh well. The minority? Whatever. Where am I going with this? Nowhere. Why? Hmm.

Fuck it anyway.

Let's have a drink, shall we? That will help with something, I am certain.

The last time I attempted a (somewhat) descriptive essay was the woman outside the Elixir in San Francisco. And that may very well be the last for all time. I just cannot go through the detailed and expanded line to line image of a female again. It is too difficult for me. Valentina would be an ideal candidate for such a writing, but what is the point? To rehash old feelings and put myself in an even deeper hole? Nope. The images suggest that she is carrying the dimensions of dreams and that should be enough. The numbers are all over her skin just as they tend to fly through my fucked up head. But trying to wordsmith her form is impossible. There are just not enough terms to cover such beauty and endless fascination. So... from here forward, the images will continue throughout the site and the models will be placed along the text just like the past three years. The staff is up to more than 350 edits by now and there are many more waiting in the wings.

The chains? They are all over me.

The recent trip to the Salton and the quick escape over to Vegas should eventually work their way into this content at some point, but a glean of a few thoughts seems appropriate now -- especially considering the staggering number of picturesque women running around that goddamned town at any given moment. The smell and sight of the Sea brought me to my knees again, and the subsequent visions within the resort pressed me further and tightened the fucking chains. God.

The disparate form rarely seen

We sat at Alto in the Palace for a bit while waiting for our dinner reservation. That bar is on the main path from one side of the resort to the other, between the two halves of such a massive casino. The comfort afforded us there combined with gorgeous servers allowed me to relax and take in all that was around us. We were elevated, and positioned next to Omnia which is right up against the sportsbook. We were there on a Friday, and the security contingent was all over the place setting up for people entering the club. Omnia is massive, gorgeous, and extremely popular. The number of people which it holds requires a hell of a setup within the paths for maintaining order and control. We watched the setup happening for a while, and then went to dinner right around the corner.

Dinner in one of Flay's own restaurants was unreal, by the way.

Afterward, we decided that sitting in Alto with its high prices was cheaper than sitting in the casino gambling. So, off to a corner table next to the DJ (yes, the music was played throughout the huge bar and spun by a lovely creature to my left). We ordered from the beautifully structured server and sunk into our big chairs to relax. The music kept everyone around us happy as we swilled and watched the multitudes walk by. As the time passed, we could see the crowd for Omnia growing and the ever-increasing level of dress worn by the many couples and groups both walking by and awaiting entrance to the club. Everything from a simple denim and t-shirt to the gorgeous silk dresses wrapped around physical anomalies went past at any given moment. There were so many differing people that I expected to arise from bed the next morning with a sore neck. Oy.

A few of the passing individuals swung into the lounge near us to either grab a drink or dance -- sometimes both. One woman strolled by my position in a bright red cocktail dress and slingbacks which propelled my brain into the exosphere with all haste. Others came and went with their ideas of club-appropriate dress and I watched every single person.

And then a woman walked past whom I will not soon forget. Yes, she could have been Michelle with shorter hair. Long nose, sharp shoulders, and likely standing over six feet with the heels. Gawd. My drinking rate increased immediately. Valentina's physique is very similar to that of Michelle, albeit she is shorter than the goddess who was perpetually wrapped around me. The woman in question was a reminder of the time at the universe's pinnacle with the soul unlike any other. Her hands carried nothing, and there was nary a purse or clutch. She floated... just as many others... but stood out due to the timeless beauty shared by very few. I fell a bit, regained my position as appearing in control, and continued to swill the Jack.

God help me for my thoughts.

Valentina's unending draw

The clock did not seem to turn into the typical propeller as happens all too often while drinking. We sat for more than three hours and saw all manner of behavior, but nothing negative whatsoever. Everyone was upbeat and positive. Many came in to dance a few minutes to a familar song and then leave, while others plopped into the soft chairs for the duration. By the time we made a decision to head to the room for some rest, Alto was full and the music was interfering with heartbeats. The entire picture was alien to me, of course, as my finest moments are spent right here in this fucking chair.

Upon closing our tab, I stepped to the adorable DJ and tipped her heavily. She smiled in such a manner so as to send me flying (her name was Priscilla). The headphones aslant upon her pretty head, the hat worn down over her eyebrows, and the shimmering gold top off which the motion lighting danced around her all added up to a sight I will remember for a long time. Her smile was disarming to the nth degree and those big eyes were as inviting as a dream. She took my hand and thanked me, and at that point I knew I had to get the fuck away from all of it. Long, shapely legs everywhere, primped and dolled faces, manucured nails, and then me... stuck in a perpetual state of need and desire which would not let up. Out, you fucking idiot -- get out now. Before any lasting damage can occur. Now.


We exited the lounge and headed toward the Forum elevators to retire for the night. All in all, and considering that legendary dinner, the whole of the night was excellent. If not for my severely damaged state, all would have been well. That was one night out of two. The previous night was also of note, but as I stated above, the excursion will likely be scrutinized heavily in the future.

Chains all over me.

'But our dread simply must go on.' A nod to Aaron and I continue.

So the wallowing which preceded the trip remains. There was always an exit on the horizon, and considering all of the brushes with death throughout the early part of this decade I am surprised to be sitting here in front of the editor. There is just no sidestepping the issues which have and still dictate my plans on any given day. The option is there. It is always there... calling and inviting. The issues pile upon one another and push me without pause. The trip illuminated things -- as I expected it would -- and seeing so much in a very short period of time was distressing. The Sea showed me what I needed, to a point, anyway, and allowed me to think in the cool quiet. We only made two trips from the resort to the shores, but that was enough. I could not effectively organize my thoughts to allow for a more detailed or extended series of outings. Once near the smell and visions, the past came in and began to rail at me to stay.

Incredible structure, to the point of mindlessness

Well, going into that part of the trip will sway the content away from Valentina and what she represents, but who the fuck tells me which way to steer the ship? No one.

As the memories with the Brunette flooded me with their timeless beauty and difficulty, I began to realize that being there with someone else was becoming a godsend. The visions were similar yet due to the years in between, some aspects of that wondrous and desolate area had changed. I was initially disappointed to see that the museum and historic parts of the yacht club were all but gone, and the shoreline was larger as the Sea has dropped through evaporation. Walking among the fish? There is nothing like it in this world. They called to me, just as the past. The Brunette knew.

She knew everything.

We strolled the shore in more than one location, sidled up to a local bar in the middle of devastation, and climbed the mountain of salvation just outside Niland. All the while we walked with the cameras and brought everything into the lens. Sound familiar? Yes, just as the trip of a lifetime which I can never forget, this journey was one of attempting to capture all. Unfortunately, of all the days spent in those wondrous counties, most of my shooting was outside my thoughts. I took in very little because I could not relax and concentrate. The memories kept bubbling to the surface and each time I walked near something which had significance years ago I lost a little of my ability. The landscape has changed, naturally, but I was hoping nothing had. The Brunette was all over the place in my head and the thoughts of our time there absolutely destroyed any chance of meaningful work in the viewfinder. Fuck.

And then there is the Russian displayed prominently down the page.

She was there too... at the Sea and in both resorts. In my fucking head. Not Valentina specifically, but all that she displays and represents. All of it, in my head like any other goddamned day. Along the shore with its multitudes of pulverized bones and the remains of a world gone away, the numbers were still there. They were causing me to misstep and miss much. They were in control, to an extent, and coupled with the Brunette and our fragmented trip, nothing could work properly within my head. The only positive I now see is that Michelle had yet to appear before me in life. Flashbacks to the Brunette looking upon me from a distance and across the barren seascape were spinning through my fucked up vision. I could see her with the backpack and hair blowing in the breeze over and over while walking near the breakwater. I saw her... looking so beautiful that any description is impossible. Just look at the images of the Russian form here. The Brunette was staggeringly gorgeous and her image was all over that multicolored, heavy, and downtrodden place. Even the fish loved her.

Stunning definition everywhere

Onward the trip went, and all the while the visions and numbers remained within me like an impermeable stain. They were tattoed on my brain and all over the landscape. Each step brought thoughts of the past attached to everything from wonder to sorrow. As we ventured around the south end of the Sea, I began to remember the route the Brunette and I took up the western shore. The stops there were quiet and beautiful, with the wildlife refuge offering a pleasant aside from the typical Salton grays and browns. The young one looked upon that site with such excitement and openness that she took me from the past and allowed for some measure of comfort and feelings of the newness of our vacation. She wandered with cameras in tow and shot some contrasting photos, and we both were taken aback by the mass of winged creatures inhabiting the green. When we exited the refuge, our drive up toward civilization was calm and warming.

During the original trip to that place, the Brunette did all of the driving and sought out whatever may have brought us new scenery. Rehashing the route almost exactly did not bring me the somber difficulty I had envisioned. In fact, that area to the south and west looked new and different enough to keep the demons and troubles away. The young one and I looked to one town for its restaurant which ended up being closed for the day, so we headed to the back of the building. Once around the side and out toward the beach, I spied memories of being in that exact location years earlier. Everything flooded me and became overwhelming enough to disallow any subjective shooting. I captured three or four images, shut down the camera, and began to wonder why I needed to see that place again.

Was it the desire to remember the Brunette and our time there, or was it to attempt an erase and rewrite to cage my sanity and leave me better than before? Hmm.

Whichever, the decision began to strain me. All of that planning, time, money, and loss of work to go back to a place where I was rarely happy, and a situation which played out once before, good or bad, did not seem to be a balanced effort. I pressed for it nonetheless, and the young one agreed immediately. Throughout the proceeding days and nights leading up to our departure, the entire idea went up and down so many times that I thought I would lose my mind. I had no idea. I knew that there would be trials in seeing those areas and walking the paths tread by the Brunette, but I did not know the extent of the difficulties or if they would appear at all. Maybe the idea was to reconnect with the palms, fish, salt, and all of the loving feelings I carried from those places. And perhaps it was the knowing of what lay there awaiting my arrival. The cool and heavy air was familiar, but knowing that our relationship and living arrangements were not at risk was decidedly unfamiliar. The young one and I had no issues which could put us at odds in any way. The only down side to everything was the mounting storm within my fucked up head. Perhaps I wished to visit the Sea and surrounding areas simply to look at things through newer eyes and without the dramatic and overwhelming problems which plagued us.


Fuck it anyway.

Look at Valentina's numerical properties and gaze upon one of the high points of this world's beauty. Forget the Sea, my drivel over what the fuck I did or should have done, and the resulting mashed potatoes now mixing in my cesspool of a mind. Just stick to the images and references to one of the most difficult pieces of writing I have ever attempted. The Salton Sea and the Heartbreak came along with riveting feelings and a massive need to be back there, and now it has happened. I know I stated above that the details would be left for another time, and along those lines let me say that the occasion of conveying another trip to one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen may turn into a fruitless and endless effort over which I will agonize for years. The fucking thing may never happen. The sights at the resort in Vegas were actually easier to take in than the smell of decay around that toxic water. And the females in view along the pathway to Omnia may have been so disarming due to being at the furthest point along the spectrum of my life from where I have been. Soon my brain will be finished with that exploration and I may be done with the effort toward any catharsis. Fuck it.

And here we are where it all began. The numbers, that unreal form along this page, and the splintered reality within which I sit in this fucking chair and inhabit. And now a word rarely placed within these essays...


[07:09 pst 02/24/2018 CE, 1519484940 E]

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Four Days

"She brought up the idea of watching a movie in her apartment. I could not disagree, and that was mostly due to the fact that I wished to be close nearly all of the time. I needed to be near her... against her beautiful skin and able to stare into her big, gorgeous eyes and the wonder they injected into my very soul. My desire was overwhelming much of the time and she knew such, but her need for space disallowed me satisfaction often. I understood, because as much as she was still her own person, I was very much the opposite -- I was clingy, needy, and almost completely unable to be alone. She propped me up so often that I am still certain the situation stressed and fatigued her.

So, in my mind the idea of sitting cozy on the sofa and spending some afternoon time in front of the monitor seemed the perfect opportunity to glue myself to her physically. I expressed such a thought to her and she responded that her need was the same. She simply wished to be close to me, as well.

Often while we were together in that little cave the physical desire we shared drifted into conversation. We slept next to each other every night -- which was warm bliss -- and often it led to much more. I literally drowned myself into her soft skin as much as was possible. I needed it like nothing else. All of the damage caused by my recent reckless and unfeeling actions melted away like ice cream on a desert rock, and her closeness carried me outside myself unlike anything else in the world. She was a dream, literally, and brought me to my knees with one look from those unique and enormous eyes. To the sofa, and onto each other we clasped.

The feeling of being close to her and the knowledge that she wanted it was wonderful. Considering all of the time we spent together, more was what I needed. My own feelings of loss and dread could only be tempered by her sensitive heart and attention. The combination brought me comfort the likes of which was a high to the point of being the diametric opposite of the low which I had dropped into throughout the preceding weeks. I began to happily comply with all that she directed. My heart was shredded and the Brunette was the glue.

Her breasts damned near got in the way


The first movie began as we found comfort up against the other. She always wore glasses to watch video or use the computer, especially in the dim light of the evening. Those glasses combined with her eyes and eyebrows sent me to the moon. Attempting to describe just how I felt about her appearance would be an enormous effort, but suffice to say she was carrying the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Throughout the course of the film I found myself breaking away from the screen many times to gaze at her and dream. Following the story on the screen became an exercise in futility. Still, I did my best not to flood her with attention as the idea was to relax.

After a little while she wished to take a pause and find something to drink. We wandered to the market below and secured both beer and whiskey to accompany the early evening. Back to the sofa with drinks and the ashtray, and back up against her softness. Again my attention wandered from the movie to her body, and I found myself swirling within thoughts of physically ravaging her over and over. I kept the desire inside locked away with great effort and did not express anything to her regarding such. We drank and watched. More time passed and I noticed she lifted her phone to her face and typed. I did not think anything of it (which was nearly impossible considering my weakened emotional state and rampant paranoia), but soon realized that she was ordering food when a short time later there was a knock at the door. Dinner arrived, we refilled the glasses, and sat again to seek a second film to screen. Midway through the next movie we were loosening up due to the whiskey and I found her beginning to stare at me just as I had wished to become closer. We repositioned and rolled on with the viewing.

Food, cigarettes, beer, whiskey, and a massive desire to declothe her. Gawd.

As the minutes flowed into hours, she called up a third movie. By that time the sun's orange glow had disappeared and the whiskey was half gone -- just as the two of us. Part way through the film and I felt a hand upon my cheek. When I turned to look at her I nearly lost my mind. She paused the playback and crawled upon all fours back to my position. As my head began to explode, I realized that she wanted to leave the electronic entertainment behind and allow me to do what I wished. Her expression changed to the point of leaving me with such thoughts which I could no longer control. I gently took her over and the playful nature of her eyes told me that there were no limits. Soon after, I found myself on the floor and without my clothes. The bliss I was feeling cannot be described. Her body quickly drove the focus of my existence to the narrowest possible pinpoint.

To the bed, and later into sleep.

The curves I needed to see


The morning arrived and I saw a glow from the east which told me the hour was not late. The Brunette was on the balcony with coffee and she waved me to join her. We spoke briefly about the morning and quiet nature of the area in which we lived, but then she took my hand and led me back to the sofa just as the night before. The whiskey bottle emerged from her kitchen, the computer was booted, and the screening continued. I was overjoyed at the fact that she wanted to relax at home yet again, and that brought thoughts of the prior evening's sexual escapades into my head. I just could not help but dream of everything we had enjoyed and more. Her beauty was overwhelming. Movie, whiskey into the coffee, and us on the sofa intertwined. Fucking bliss again.

Into the film a bit, and the Brunette took my hand and kissed it. She looked up at me with the eyes of forever and asked that I venture to the market for staples. I told her that my cash level needed a refresh and that meant the bank on the other side of the hill. The plan was me heading out for business and her freshening up our small space. I showered and slid into the slipper for a short trip. While I drove my head and heart began to swell with her demeanor toward me. I could barely contain myself when dealing with others and nearly had to run from the bank due to my physical desire manifesting itself for the millionth time over her lush skin and goddess-like curves. The slipper roared back onto the freeway and I dashed toward the market for more of what we consumed just hours earlier. Upon my return, her face lit up and we embraced for several moments before setting up the living room for more entertainment. I noticed that she had showered and donned shorts and a tank top, underneath which her huge chest strained the seams. When she sat I could not help but direct my wanting eyes toward her waist and I could see the shorts were all that were containing the loveliness which forced me out of the bank at high speed. Jesus fucking Harold Christ... I wanted to climb into her clothing and devour every inch of her again. She absolutely exuded sexuality and knew it would drive me out of my mind like nothing else in the world. That soft skin was the end of existence and my need was pushing me toward insanity.

For the second day... movie, sofa, beer, whiskey, desire.

And again she grabbed at her phone and brought Italian food to the door. Just as the previous day, when the food arrived I began to wonder just how long she wished to remain holed up and hidden from the rest of the world. Everything drifted out of my head -- the decision to run to her, the lack of work and my current leave of absense from the same, and all of the financial difficulties I had caused through so many bad ideas -- all that was left within me was her. She had become my world and much of that was physical desire unlike I had ever felt.

The movie continued and I caught her staring at me several times while we sat close. Soon she slid over me and took my entire face into her warm hands and professed her want to see me happy. From there, her body moved south to the edge of the floor and my hands were squeezed enough for me to feel it in my heart. She stared into my eyes for several moments, dropped her glasses to the carpet, and proceeded to give me a gift I could not believe. The physical pleasure brought me outside myself and into a place I rarely felt or understood. The Brunette had caused me so much happiness... from the hiding to the warmth, and from her soft hands and lips to the edge of the universe. I fell into all of it and lost my mind completely.

She stopped and told me to hold tight to such a preview. For fuck's sake.

Smooth lingerie and the exaggerations of dreams


Saturday came and went, and the following morning's visions I found myself within were nearly enough to break me. We had spent two days together with nary a debate, and such a fact was rare for us. The prior night's bliss would not leave my head and as such pressed me to want her even more.

We were not out of the bed long before the next movie was queued. She smiled and told me that to continue the situation which began Friday was her intention. We strolled to the market hand-in-hand and picked up staples. Nothing changed and my emotional state had scrapped any thoughts outside the bubble within which we seemed to be cemented. She turned up the playfulness another notch and I was floored by the attention. Back up to the apartment and the next bottle of whiskey. My desire took over again, but that time I did not hold back. I poured two glasses, cracked two more beers, paused the playback, and grabbed her without limit. She looked upon me as if I was her captor and relaxed to the point of being my toy. Once again... oh my. Her clothes flew and I took her with the need of a lifetime. Time passed and she put a finger to my lips causing me to calm a bit. 'Let us watch and drink. I want to make you into an experiment.'

Huh? Uh oh.

What proceeded was her applying makeup to my face and out came the camera. Fuck me... but what was I to do about it? She had me in a place where any request was happily and quicky honored, so I let her do whatever she wanted. During her photographing me in monochrome with varying expressions (also no looking at the lens), I continually tried to paw at her chest and pull her close. She smilingly resisted and carried on shooting me in the living room. I rose and chased her about the rooms -- all the while listening to her cute giggles -- and told her I needed all of her against my lips. Resistance... trotting... giggling more... and her oversize shorts dropped to her ankles which enflamed me like never before. I grabbed the camera, laid it on the bed, and swallowed her whole. She stood and let me position her body in any manner I desired, and that massive mane flowed over my face and tickled my ears. She slammed her huge chest to my face, pulled me onto the floor, and...

...we stumbled back to the sofa for a smoke, drink, and movie. For crying out loud, she was so in charge. I would have walked off the fucking pier for her. Our comfortable viewing carried on throughout the day, and every now and then we enjoyed the glances and caresses which kept me flying above the earth. Her sexiness was without bounds, and my desire was constant. The movies? They were all over the place and proved a simple distraction from that which we were both attempting to avoid. The day moved toward evening, and she wished to visit the market again. We ambled down the hill and shopped briefly, and upon arriving at the checkout I suddenly noticed that the young man ringing up the items could not avoid glancing at my face over and over. Yep... the makeup was still there. She applied it earlier but I never had the opportunity to see my face in the mirror. God help me, but I was embarrassed. He smiled toward us and I stated that she had been photographing me for a project. He then smiled more with the look as if we were some psychosexual deviant couple he should avoid at all costs. Ha! We exited, laughing, and proceeded to push forth with our multi-day delusion.

Later? Drunk and nude. Oy.

Soft skin I could not resist


Having exhausted yet another supply of booze, spending some time experimenting with each other sans clothing, and sleeping across the bed, the next morning found us on the balcony in the cool air with the requisite coffee and cigarettes. We spoke of only each other and the top-level time spent in her apartment the past few days. All of the circumstances and issues which were discarded in favor of disappearing into each other's desires were still fairly far away, so the decision was made by her to move onto the sofa again and fire up something else on the computer. Naturally, I could not keep my eyes on the screen due to her chest being prominently displayed and hardly missable. 'Watch the movie.' Yes... without her directing my attention, the morning would have had physical aspects which I still needed. I complied (of course) and the day went on -- slowly -- along the same lines as the previous three.

Into the afternoon, we were sitting and holding hands gently, when I realized that the comfort would have to end at some point. Neither of us had responsibilities outside the door, but our cocoon could not last much longer. The only thought which brought solace was the possibility that our enjoyment of each other could proceed without speed bumps. I wanted to play, but I also wanted to let her be. The space within her head had been off limits since before the Salton Sea, and that meant I still had to fill in the blanks with my own unending fears. I needed her more than ever because I would not have been able to live with myself. The lack of deep conversation was scary yet necessary. We were both in that boat which was adrift on a sea of sorrow. Sex, caressing words and gestures, and the continuing flow of alcohol was keeping us just afloat on the aforementioned water.

Evening. Food. The two of us wrapped around each other. The movies. And my head swimming in thoughts of her body all over me. Soon... sleep.

That night we climbed into bed on fresh sheets (nice!) and finally spoke quietly about everything. Light tears flowed while we talked of the end of such a wondrous and enjoyable slice of time. I assured the Brunette that my heart was still her possession. She could not respond in kind, and I knew such a feeling was impossible as well as seeing how much it hurt her to pass it on. I loved her, I loved being in her space, and I loved the physical wonder we shared. Unfortunately, and as most of the other writings can attest, nothing good can remain as such. The seeemingly unending progression of events means change, and that means destruction in one manner or another. We knew of the issues and we knew that they were out of anyone's control.

We kissed as never before and drifted off. Fuck.

The incredible form of her breasts


The morning... again she was out on the balcony, coffee in hand, and looking so gorgeous with tussled hair. I ventured out to join her, and she began to tell me of why our situation had been so deluded. Or, more pointedly, her role in the entire affair. I listened and held her when she seemed to need it. We both knew of all that was shoved aside to allow space for the little getaway from reality, the reasoning for the beginning and for the end. The air was still and felt heavy with emotion. That was something I nearly could not bear. She clutched her cup and tapped her cute little toes while I sat there admiring everything she was. Beautiful, intelligent, caring, kind, and with a heart that must have pushed the limits of her small frame. I had placed her fairly high on the scale of people. And that is to say her inner beauty outshined such an incredible form. God.

The day went on and we decided to get out for a little while. She drove us to the theater (yes, even after all the movies watched nearly back-to-back) where we sank into the glow of the screen with snacks. Our hands found each other time and time again during the film and my heart leaped in her direction, as always. Every now and then we met eyes in appreciation for the company. That was so nice. Her heart was open to a point, however I knew of the troubles which would inevitably catch our heels. Upon leaving, we began to discuss the plot of the film which touched on sensitive subjects. The conversation veered from good to bad, finally leaving the two of us quiet and somewhat uncomfortable. When we arrived back at her apartment, I tried to sway the mood by asking if I could play with her breasts. She smiled and told me I could do as I pleased. Hmm. That sounded as if she was not entirely in that type of mood so I backed off and took to the bed to catch my breath. All went very quiet for several minutes and I sensed that we would not be that close for much longer. The sexual feelings flew out of me instantly, leaving me with my own heartbeat and a head filling with worry. No sooner did I begin to truly relax, when she emerged from the living room, took my hand, and led me to the balcony with two glasses of whiskey. What? Huh? Yeah.

We sat there and shared a series of long stares before any words were available. And then the words were anything but what I may have expected.

The Brunette professed her love for me and stated that she was worried about what may happen to me once out of her apartment. I knew eventually that I would need to find my own space, and that time rapidly approached. We discussed all aspects and possibilities before calming a bit and returning to the stars and booze. And then she told me that there was no hurry. She knew of the importance of warmth and stability so my change in address need not be a rush. Thank Christ. We embraced and went back to the quiet. Her hand found mine, and she kissed my fingers with a gentle touch and much feeling. My initial instinct was to recoil and avoid gushing my physical desire all over her skin. 'It's ok, my love.' Fuck me running, that was the most breathy and inviting phrase ever uttered toward my position. I sat there flabbergasted at the attention she was paying my skin until I nearly blew a gasket. Her softness took me from myself like the wind on the flatland. She stood me up and hugged me with love. I absorbed all of it like a giant sponge in the ocean. And then she sat back down and looked up to me with eyes of the most sexual Satan I could have imagined.

Blouse unbuttoned and opened... bra unhooked and opened...

'I want what you want, lover.'

Oh... um... okay.

Tall and beautiful like few others

She grasped at her hair, pulled the thick mane into a ponytail, and took my hand to replace hers. At that point I knew where she was heading, and on the balcony as I gazed out toward the ocean, she proceeded into my boxers as if I was her doll. She then took my other hand and placed it upon the back of her head and I lost my mind... again. Her soft caressing was nearly too much, but I was able to steady myself and watch her motions. The fucking day went in a direction previously unimagined, and that despite the heaviness and sadness within which we both floated. I loved her. I just fucking loved her.

The Brunette took that night and turned it upside down.

We eventually worked our way back inside and onto the sofa. She asked if I wished to walk a while and I could not help but agree. Still shaky, but able to maintain my composure, she led me through the door and we headed down toward the ocean. Much of the walk found us quiet and brushing up against each other over and over. I could see in her eyes that she was content for the time being so I went on without word one. I honestly was still reeling from the balcony and no matter how far we strolled from the door nor the time that had passed, I could not get that series of events out of my head. Onward to the sea, with a stopover at the Horse.

And that would be the end of that.

The remainder of the night was debate, pointed words, tears and threats of suicide from each of us. She had fallen into a hole -- just as on so many past occasions -- and I followed along like the depressed and unstable soul I had become. She and I worked our way from the bar to the pier, arguing and pointing our fingers the whole distance. At one point she climbed upon the railing and told me to stay away from her. I did nothing of the sort. I pulled her from the dangerous height and held tightly as I tried to veer the walk toward home. The quiet overtook again. Her soft sobbing broke my heart entirely and I did not know what to do. My own need to free my head and soul from the world creeped in over and over and proceeded to enflame both of us until we could nearly not stand to be within earshot of one another. The whole night had gone from passionate, loving physical beauty to a sordid, drunken mess with two people hanging on for their lives. Literally.

By the time we reached the hill between the market and her home, the end was at hand. Keys, yelling, swearing, crying... closeness gone, sexual feelings erased, life threatened. We were done.

Cue 'The Brunette, Michelle, Diane, and the Goblet'. Cue indeed. What a fucking tragic and defeated story ours had become. Now the lead-up to that weeks-long saga of sex and hell is illuminated. Suck it."

[06:39 pst 03/04/2018 CE, 1520174340 E]

We have secured yet another top-level domain for possible future expansion or transfer. The Coma domain has proven just a little off from the popular collective audience, so in the coming months we may embrace a new title image and location on the internet. In the meantime, things will continue along as they have for the last three years.

We also may roll the archive into the writing section and combine the two, keeping titles and such as they are. The dated entries have enjoyed their own place and timeline, while the lateral writings sit idle. Expansion and further visibility may push us to move things around.


The Dash, the Bartender, and Juliette

Part One

"A story within a story within a story. Oh my. This one goes back and forth without sense, so buckle up. It stands as one of the most emotional and mentally-damaging stories I have ever attempted. Years ago I promised myself that I would keep this within me, but fuck it anyway. I no longer have anything to lose and the reveal may help me to survive... somehow.

We go...

The situation began with a trip to Pensacola to visit my cousins. I packed and flew away from the Brunette, arriving in Texas some hours later. With a multi-hour layover, I decided to slide into a comfortable bar/restaurant (no shit, huh?) and kill a bit of time while watching people move about the terminal. Naturally, the bartender was a young woman looking bright and energetic. The place was not busy due to the early hour, so I had a chance to speak with her about whatever subject came along. We exchanged the typical banter about what brought me there, my destination, and the reasoning behind the trip. As the first hour moved behind me, I learned that she took the job in order to mix with people.

She stood roughly five foot seven, with long, dark hair and very thin yet defined arms and shoulders. The black tank covered her chest and hid what appeared to be an unlined bra underneath. Below, her waist defied the diameter above, accented her hips, and displayed a very sharp ratio against her torso and legs. Overall the woman was yet another example of what I had been seeking, but due to the location nothing aside from gazing and conversation was possible. When she spoke and asked questions of me, her eyes lit somewhat and she appeared very hopeful and open. Had the encounter taken place after my many trips all over California and Nevada, however, I likely would have stared at her for a moment and ran away. That afternoon allowed me to sit for quite a while and take in all of her nicely. On the inside, things were no so positive.

The want began to creep in.

The woman was so pleasant and her demeanor so inviting that I could not help to dream of all that had been missing in my life for so long. She fit the bill completely. And that on top of the fact that I left with the intention of returning days later to the Brunette and all that she had meant to me. Sitting and exchanging thoughts with the gorgeous bartender seemed to show a weakness on my part, but the truth was that the want was taking over and had never left me. The woman moved back and forth behind the counter and did her job, and all the while my head went south and into areas I would have been better off pushing away. She was beautiful, and I simply could not help myself. Another drink, and more dreaming.

'Are you allowed to work with your hair down?'
'Yes, but too warm in here right now.'

She continued her duties with a slight smile and often glanced in my direction. I could not help but vocalize what I was feeling because I knew nothing would come of it. Soon I would be walking toward the gate and the whole thing would be done. Too bad. The woman was entering my head more and more. Her tender eyes were working their way inside me. I began to feel concern for my state. And I wanted her, of course. All of her. In such a weakened state, none of it was the least bit surprising.

My mind's eye

The trip from the Brunette's apartment and the fact that she drove me to the airport popped into my head often. She wanted me to get away for my own sanity. She also wished me all the happiness and contentment in the world as I left to visit family. I had to keep all of it close to my heart as I sat and stared at the creature who was fast becoming a point of focus. She was speaking to me even while her mouth uttered nothing. I could hear it... and the ideas drove me insane. The more I sat there -- knowing I should not have -- the more the want pressed me into narrowing focus dramatically and leaving me a single-celled creature without sense. Her beauty and pleasant nature did not leave me with the healthiest of thoughts, and that was not her doing. I was allowing it to happen for the millionth time. I did not run, but remained stapled to the barstool and unable to shift my brain away from the dreams and desires. The midsection of her body was my new world and there was no avoiding anything which might have helped me to cope and avoid the damage. I could not run from the want. It was in control of me, entirely.

A moment of pause from the conversation as others came in and took a seat. I was heading toward my second drink and pondering the question which always popped up: the why. All of the feelings which flew through me were related to the writings and desires of the past, and the woman behind the bar stayed away long enough for me to attempt to relate and calculate just why the numbers were turning into such a want. There was never anyone to bounce things off. The years passed had shown me just how crippling that type of sight could become, but never was I able to speak at length about finding reason. Years of need, and no outlet nor confidant.

When she returned, things began to look different -- desperate, difficult, and dire -- so I considered taking a leap of faith and revealing to her just why I needed to stay at the bar for my entire wait. And that brings the past back to my mind...

Nearly eight years earlier. Two thousand three, when I escaped the shackles of work and home life to run away. That was touched upon years ago, but some aspects of that time should be reviewed, and they were initially left out for reasons of anonymity. Now? Fuck it anyway. We go.

The first occasion when the obsession became overwhelming to the point of driving me out of my mind was a time when a coworker wanted to be with me and offered anything I may have wanted with regard to being physical together. She pressed me to step outside my relationship and have my way with her. When her desire and my need to understand became too much to bear, I ran my ass off and away from everything. A cool September morning saw me at work. My boss directed me away from our two facilities and toward a third with which I was unfamiliar and had hoped to avoid due to the staff there. He asked me to grab a few things and fill in until such time as they could stabilize their testing schedule. That building was several blocks away and required me to drive.

Between the change in environment (which was something I could not easily swallow), and the recent issue of being offered anything I wished from the coworker, my head began to overflow with discomfort. I sat in the car for several minutes before driving toward the north and to a place I knew would be uncomfortable and unfamiliar. After just a few blocks, the change forced me into a mental fetal position and I had to get the fuck out of there. So I did. A few turns and I drove right out the gate and onto the freeway. Oy.

Issues within me?

South to where? I formulated a plan immediately, and took to Pacheco Pass, leaving my real world behind.

As the miles rolled under my wheels, I started to worry a bit about the phone ringing on the seat next to me. It stayed quiet for a long while as I arrived part way down the interstate. Swinging the car in for fuel brought me a slight amount of clarity and the fact that I needed to set a few things in place before proceeding further. I filled the tank and took to the pay phone with multiple credit cards in hand. I needed to know how much leeway I might have had in order to secure a trip to Vegas. Yes, that's right... the promised land of escape and anonymity. After a few calls I knew my finances could support a lavish stay wherever I wished, so I got hold of the Luxor to book a room immediately. Back to the car, and then back to the pay phone to make one more important call... an escort agency(!). I reserved one more thing and then hit the fucking road. By that point, and after making calls and realizing I was nearly two hundred miles from my start, the delusion set in nicely and left me without worry. I was filled with anticipation.

Highway, loud music.

Hours later I rolled into the valet at the Luxor and left the car. The attendant asked if I was checking in and offered to grab a bellman for my luggage. I raised my arms and told him the trip was not planned prior to a short time earlier, and he smiled as if to say 'good for you'. I headed to the desk and check into a spa room in the pyramid. After stepping throught the door to such a large and well-appointed room, I knew I had to go back out the door of the massive resort and do some shopping. And I realized that the cell phone was still in the car. Oh well... fuck it anyway. Down the inclinator and to the main cashier. I asked about drawing cash and the woman directed me to machines around the corner. I headed there, went through the procedure, and the fucking device sent me away -- denied. Nope. Not going to happen. I went back to the same cashier window and she informed me that the failure was very common due to security precautions from the banks. I stepped aside to the payphones to call the bank, at which time the voice told me they wanted to ensure it was me. A few questions later and I was told that everything was good to go. Back to the machine, and another NO. Fuck me. Back to the cashier, and she said try the phone again because sometimes there may be a delay. I called a second time and was told that everything was fine and the issue may be the casino's precautions. Fuck me again. I slammed the phone down, left the resort, and sought the bank which issued my card. Toward the main drag of shopping.

Juliette's beauty all over the big bed

As I rolled along the boulevard, the idea of no cash began to cause me worry and I simply could not have such a thing. I knew that what I needed must continue unimpeded. The bank appeared and I went inside to solve my problem. The absolute goddess of a teller took my card and went back to her manager for a discussion. She returned, asked how much I wished to draw, and I smiled and told her I needed three thousand. She smiled back -- looking stunning in silk -- and attacked her computer. I filled out a form and she again smiled and asked how I would like the cash. 'All hundreds' I said, 'and dinner downtown, pretty please'. Red cheeks, tentative glances around the room, and, to my surprise, acceptance. Her name was Juliette and she looked like a million dollars standing behind the counter. I gave her my room number and a time to meet as she counted the many bills back to me. I softly touched her hand and stated that I would look much better that evening, and she replied that I need not change a thing. Holy fucking shit... I made a date in work clothes and with a woman who looked as if she could have been Miss America. Jesus. I asked if she was sure, and she returned the gesture with her hand and told me to count on it. Jesus... again. Out the door with a head full of possibilities, none of which related to real life.

I took to the boulevard again and knew I had to look loyally for the remainder of the trip, but I did not wish to expend the cash if at all possible. I ran across one of the many indoor malls in that huge city and proceeded to seek out some decent attire. As I walked the big hallways, my mind began to relax somewhat and I was able to put some things into perspective. Namely, I had zero attachments, tons of vacation hours, and no reason to worry about being gone other than the necessity of finally contacting my boss to tell him I needed some time away. The shopping went on, and I exercised credit as often as was feasible to keep the wad which was paramount while in a casino. All the while Juliette's long, wavy hair and smooth skin were in my thoughts. What could have come of that? Hmm.

After acquiring all that I felt would be appropriate for some days in the goblet, I headed back to the resort for a much-needed change of look. The inclinator again brought me to the thirtieth floor and my cozy room which started to look even better than my first visit. I was dreaming of not being there alone, and instead with a warm, real companion upon whom I planned to lavish much care. And while my previous trip was quite expensive, the company that my money funded was fantastic. Juliette was not a call girl, but an everyday person working and supporting herself through the bank. That was all I knew and the rest would hopefully come with time.

While in the room I called the escort service and cancelled my reservation, offering a partial fee so as to not offend the classy establishment. Although I knew that need may return sometime in the future, the current trip had improved over finding someone in person with which to spend time. And what a fucking find.

Smooth skin and beautiful breasts

After freshening up and donning some of the new clothing, I decided to call my work and get the difficulty out of the way. My boss was halfway out the door that afternoon, and told me to avoid running away in the future. He said my leaving would have been perfectly fine had I done the reverse and asked for the time. Ultimately he told me to relax and find what I needed, leaving my trip open-ended. I apologized profusely and left the conversation feeling that his caring superceded any worry of disciplinary actions. Whew. Better. That relief led to me needing a drink in a sunken and comfortable spot for quiet thought. To the Aurora on the casino floor.


Sandra, the attending server that late afternoon, approached me with her absolutely gorgeous Egyptian eyebrows and form-fitting black dress. She sat in the puffy chair next to me and inquired of my needs. I ordered a cocktail and told her all that I needed in the world was her lovely smile and some comfort. She tapped my hand, smiled, and left for the service bar. Jesus fucking Harold Christ, there seemed to be no end to the beautiful and courteous women in that town. I had to steel myself every time she visited my table due to the overwhelming need to swallow her whole. Fuck me running. What a sight she was, and with a disarming smile which had the ability to force everything out of my head save for her. Sandra's demeanor and look would keep me attached to that chair and her every gesture.

A couple of hours passed bringing the dinner date closer each moment. I still had plenty of time and had been offsetting my alcohol consumption with lots of water. After Sandra's umpteenth arrival at my table, I noticed a lovely woman on the casino floor sitting beautifully at a slot machine. I asked Sandra to send her a lemon drop on my tab, and a few moments later she delivered the drink. The woman did not look in my direction despite Sandra pointing out its origin. I thought nothing of it, and continued to calculate what that night may entail. A short time later, I sent another cocktail to the gambler, and that time she looked in my direction. I smiled and raised my glass, and she showed appreciation by returning the gesture. Later, when I needed to exit the coziness of Aurora, I walked in her direction to wish her well. She looked up at me and told me that she was killing time away from her spouse, so nothing could come of the situation. 'No worries', I told her, 'I just wanted to improve your day'. She smiled at me, thanked me profusely, and expressed the fact that I did exactly that. Bye bye.

I blew a kiss toward Sandra and slid back up to the top of the pyramid. Upon seeing my room again, I felt as if the reasoning for dashing away from my life was beginning to pay off. And as unbelievable as it was to secure dinner with a fucking unreal-looking woman that very day, I had no stress or discomfort over anything up to that point in the trip. The outset had turned out to be precisely what I had been seeking day after miserable day for months. I knew that some time passing in my previous world would not change me or anything else. That did not matter. I just wanted to sink in and find a place otherwise unavailable.

Knock knock. Butterflies.

Juliette... and on all fours for fuck's sake

Upon opening the door, before me stood Juliette... one of the most elegant women in recent memory. I immediately became so flustered that my greeting was delayed several seconds. I shook my head and invited her in. Holy shit, she was in my hotel room, and looking as if she had spent much time in an attempt to look nice. The effort was appreciated, and I told her as much. She smiled and hugged me gently, took a stroll across to the window, and commented that the room appeared large and comfortable. I had only been there less than an hour in total since my arrival in town, but I was forced to agree. I asked her to take a seat, and could not help but gaze upon her sculpted legs and tremendous hair. The woman looked like the embodiment of class and stature, which pushed me to feel under-dressed for any occasion with her in tow. When she complimented my appearance, I smiled at her and felt a bit more at ease. She was someone I knew nothing about but for whatever reason brought me solace in many ways. I needed to be close -- attached to her somehow -- and that had been my wish from first sight on. We made some polite conversation and decided to head to the floor to sit with a drink and discuss my trip further. She could sense that I was there to get away from something, and she was one hundred percent correct. What was a mystery was just why she would accept an invitation from someone in that type of situation. We would soon get to that, and more.

Down to the casino and straight to the Nile. She sat very close to me with one hand on mine. I was immediately attracted to her eyes because they conveyed more feeling and emotion than I had seen in many years. Juliette looked stunning beyond words and I did my damndest to keep my eyes on hers, rather than exploring the rest of her form. We spoke at length about work, personal relationships and expectations, and the possibility of a kind of happiness which came without reservations or excessive stress. Her thoughts took me over. And throughout the time sitting there at the Nile, she occasionally intertwined her fingers with mine -- a satisfying touching which brought me to believe that she was genuinely interested in finding what I had sought. Good god, the peaceful nature of her contact pressed me into getting lost mentally, and I began to need the closeness more and more. Staring at her eyes began to melt me from the inside out. She expressed so much raw emotion through those beautiful pools that not knowing her became irrelevant. The look, the touching, and the calmness she exuded... exactly what I was looking for but had no intention of actually seeking. Juliette was just standing there at work, off the strip and away from the glitz of Vegas, and meeting her was a miracle of sorts. The idea of strolling around those massive resorts and trying to find that type of comfort and look felt impossible. I had to consider the good fortune almost constantly.

We soon left the bar and walked across the big bridge into the Mandalay Bay. That was a hotel with which I had been previously intimate. Along the slow stroll, her hand did not leave mine, and my hand began to feel an underlying caring. I did my best not to gush toward her in any way for fear of seeming too clingy. Our walk led us to the House of Blues, where we spied a mostly-empty restaurant. We sidled to the bar and ordered drinks, and all the while my head was swimming in some sort of nether region between this world and the next. I could not believe the chance of finding someone so kind and understanding, and the thought had begun to enter my bruised heart. Juliette, and my knowing of her for mere hours, was taking me from myself. I wanted all of her, and the top of that desire was intimacy of mind.

Into the Blues visit a short while, and she told me that she wished to spend time with me simply as an aside to her life. She was not happy with much of anything, disillusioned with the sheer number of partners who wanted nothing more than physical contact, and the daily work environment which seemed to be stagnant. I stood her up, placed my hands upon her soft cheeks, and told her that we could be ideally suited to each other for however much time she wished to spend there.

Juliette hugged me tightly, kissed my cheek with the salt of her tears, and revealed that her bag -- with a week's worth of clothes and necessities -- was waiting patiently in her car outside. Huh? The woman accepted a dinner date and packed for days? Holy shit, did I ever find someone special. I was already overwhelmed by her gentle nature and tenderness with which she told me about her feelings, but to see her there in front of me looking gorgeous beyond description and then learn that she had hoped to stay with me in the hotel... Jesus H. Crap, I was pulled in immediately. All at once I wished to care for her like no other. Hold her, caress her, and simply ensure that she could be comfortable in more ways than just physically. And speaking of that, and regardless of the shape of her beautiful body and that flowing hair, the sexual thoughts backed off as I wanted to focus upon her happiness.

'I want to be close... connected to each other.'
'Absolutely, my dear.'

No sooner had she expressed her desire to be attached to me, when a tap on my shoulder slammed me back in time... to a year earlier. Juliette grabbed me from behind and held on tight as I spun around to a woman I had not seen since my last contract with the escort agency. A call girl...


And she was crying."

[06:18 pdt 03/17/2018 CE, 1521293940 E]

Organization is the word of the day. We are considering ousting the archival structure and adding an index page for all of the titled entries. Since last year, the archive has grown out of control and the lines of code are proving time-consuming with regard to load times. The images do not help, either. So, the beginning of a different and more user-friendly indexing system will begin soon.


Jasmine and the Bleeding Prostitute

Part Two

"Juliette clinged to me like a wounded bird, yet the look on her face showed that she would not leave my side, despite a woman coming out of nowhere and addressing me as if we were more than acquianted. I felt the tightness of her hands at my waist and the warmth of her chin on my shoulder as I greeted Jasmine. She took my hand and wished to know if I was staying at the Mandalay. I told her that Juliette and I had a room next door, and asked if she needed to speak privately (no shit). Having had no dinner as of that point in the evening, the three of us ventured back across the bridge and up to my room. Along the way my hand felt like it would lose feeling due to Juliette's grip, and I understood completely. Her constant contact warmed me like nothing else. The poor girl was just getting to the beginning of some familiarity with me and the idea of being where we both needed, and the conversation hit a switch track. Out of nowhere approached a lavishly dressed -- and crying -- call girl from my past who had some issue for which she came to yours truly. And Juliette held on anyway. That thought did not leave my head for a long while. I just wanted to be alone with her but that would have to wait, and the entire time I worried over her feelings. That was a woman I had just met hours earlier, and there we were trotting toward my huge room with a fucking call girl. Nice. I had not seen Jasmine for a solid year since my previous trip, and was trying to calculate the odds of her spying me in that lounge -- which is quite off the beaten path, by the way -- and coming to me for help. I figured the matter would fall outside the typical issue which may draw security, and that consideration began to make me nervous. Juliette was not the only one with a tight grip.

We entered and Jasmine hugged me, still weeping. I told her that whatever may have been wrong would be alright, although I had no idea of why she came to me. The surprise of her arrival in the House was still floating within, yet my need to be with the loveliness which was Juliette remained at the forefront. Jasmine introduced herself to Juliette, and then turned and pleaded with me to bring another woman to my room immediately. Huh? Fuck. What could have been happening, and why was I suddenly a go-to? I informed her that the decision was not solely mine, so she also asked my companion if her request was acceptable. Juliette said it was fine, and wished to help in any manner which did not make us uncomfortable. Jasmine agreed, and made a phone call. We all sat down in the salon and the words stopped. The picture of the three of us must have been humorous on some level, but I was quickly becoming nervous, and the fear was all over my face. Juliette saw it right away because she rarely took her eyes off me. I could see appreciation combined with concern. That felt wonderful and I wished to grab her and hold on tight. She arose and walked to me, flopped on my lap and held on.

We waited several moments before hearing a knock at the door. Jasmine trotted over and let in the woman in question. Oy, god. The young girl entered and clutched Jasmine for dear life. Her lower lip was bleeding, hair was messed up pretty badly, and there was a small tear on her collar. She wore the clothing of someone in the business of 'entertainment' and looked like her day had not gone well, to say the least. Again, everyone sat, and the new arrival told us of what had happened less than an hour earlier. Apparently, she was overjoyed at being in my hotel room, as Jasmine had told her of what a good person I had been to her a year before. She thanked me and said she had run from a lower floor and hid in the stairwell for more than an hour. A client had attacked her in some manner and she barely got out of his room to flee further abuse. I told her she was welcome to stay a while, calm herself, clean up, and find a way to get out of the resort and back home.

Juliette and Jasmine were happy with my offer and both began to comfort the young girl. I sat there, floored by what was going on, and dreamed of returning to the warmth that was Juliette's company. She, in turn, looked at me like the same thoughts were going on inside her. After learning that the girl's name was Bridget, Jasmine asked if they could speak alone in the bathroom. Of course I agreed, and that gave Juliette and myself a few moments to do the same.

Her curves sent me flying

She took my hand and led me back to the sofa, grabbed my worried face, and whispered that once the affair with Jasmine and Bridget was resolved, we had plenty of time to spend alone. Juliette also said in no way would anything keep us from finding the space to learn of each other's desires and needs. Her eyes told me much more, and for once since turning and seeing Jasmine in the House, I felt at ease. My goodness, but the amount of feeling she expressed was disarming. Still new to each other and yet I knew all would be just fine -- somehow -- and for whatever reasons.

Moments later Bridget emerged from the bathroom and came to me for a hug. She tearily pleaded to get her out of the hotel in the direction she needed. All at once I knew how to proceed. I took Jasmine's hand and asked about my idea, and when she agreed I grabbed the phone and turned to Bridget to tell her not to fret over exiting the resort. She smiled, and I dialed. Within minutes there were two security officers at my door. Upon inquiring as to why I called, Bridget gave them the most amazing line of bullshit to steer them away from the idea of her being employed within the world's oldest profession. They courteously agreed to walk with us to the self-park portal at the rear of the hotel, and went ahead to ensure her safety. All of us exited the room -- Juliette once again attached to me like an extra appendage (heartwarming, to the last) -- and we made a beeline for the attraction level and toward the parking garage. The two officials stood by the door as Juliette and I said our goodbyes to both Bridget and Jasmine, after which they walked off to her parking space. Upon seeing them disappear, Juliette kissed me and asked to head back inside to Aurora for some further conversation. Yep... she wanted to know of my association with Jasmine, and in a comfortable setting. I thanked the security contingent for their endless attention and discretion, shook their hands firmly, and we disbanded. To the lounge directly.

Upon taking to the big chairs, the server sat with us to take our order, and sensed our need for solitude. I just loved to no end the ability of the picturesque staff in that bar to immediately pick up on the varying needs of the clientele and proceed to treat them accordingly. And ours was no different than Sandra earlier that day with her gentle words and understanding -- not to mention the unreal form of her cocktail dress and impeccable makeup. We ordered and sank into the chairs as if they were the very womb of life. And it began...

Juliette was a work of art

The tale of a year prior to meeting Juliette and her tremendous draw upon my senses. Onward to that story.

I was on the phone with the escort agency even before the plane left the ground in Oakland. I wanted to ensure my new friend would be at the hotel as soon after my arrival as possible and they operate smoothly enough that I knew there would be no entanglements. That agency is expensive, but worth it.

After checking into the hotel, I ordered two bottles of Grand Marnier, showered, shaved, dressed, and tipped the gentleman who delivered the booze. I offered him a cocktail and requested a few minutes of conversation. He asked what I wanted of him, and I inquired as to his knowledge of horizontal entertainment therapists. Tim replied that he had none but could give me the number of a behind-the-scenes concierge who knew all. He turned down the drink and shook my hand (while gazing at me as if I were Satan there to take his soul) and then trotted off toward the door. As the door swung open, Jasmine appeared on the other side and said hello. I thought he was going to blow a gasket. He looked at her, back at me, then to the floor before darting out. What a moment.

Jasmine and I spoke for more than an hour in my room before heading downstairs to Red Square. During that period I took notice of her appearance. She was lovely, exotic, extremely well-spoken and articulate. As escorts run she was classy, to be honest. She was dressed loyally in pants and a red silk blouse (as I had requested) and appeared affluent with all of the platinum accents. Her dark hair flowed well past shoulder length and nearly covered a beautifully tapered back. She wore black suede strapped pumps and her toenails were blood red. I just loved it. As Jasmine was such a gorgeous example of a young and healthy hybrid Japanese girl, you can probably imagine the attention she could garner when dressed to the nines. With introductory chit chat and our first exchange of cash out of the way, we headed to the bar (big surprise).

Red Square was peaceful and alluring. It is a Russian bar/restaurant and is known for copius amounts of stylish vodkas. Wonderful. We did not wish to eat there, so just a couple of martinis later we were out the door hand in hand. Her warmth and friendliness was driving me nuts. I longed to be against her in every way possible. We headed across the bridge to Aurora in the Luxor and along the way we browsed a few shops and took notice of the House Of Blues on the right as a possible dinner choice. They had the most wonderful calamari and shark dishes, and as a southern-themed establishment you just know there were umpteen fucking bourbons behind the bar waiting to be slurped. That place was really well operated, in my opinion. After yet another drink in Aurora and a dozen appraising glances from every traveling salesman and single guy in the room, we decided to go back to the Bay and sit in the tub. By that hour I was dying to caress her. Of course, she was mine and would affirm anything I wished. We ventured back through the Luxor arm-in-arm to our warm and bubbly destination.

We showered separately to avoid staying in there all evening. I wanted the tub and the warm relaxation that comes with it (and the fucking orange sweetness of the alcohol). Once in the welcoming hot water we immediately drew together and stayed as such for the next half hour. Jasmine's skin had been calling for my lips since the first moment we touched and so I pulled her in front of me - facing away - and held on tight while burying my face in her fragrant hair. That was unreal. She smelled wonderful. I let her slip down a bit until looking just over her head. We sat and talked about the town, the resorts, and tourism at such a stumbling economic time. The conversation was stifled when the timed bubbles ceased, leaving the room quiet and calm. At that point I gazed toward her legs as they rested between mine and saw one of the most enticingly beautiful sights imaginable. Her knees were together which created a tapered gap leading up the thighs. That is an image which I had sought vigorously over the last few years - just a picture. To have that vision in person and in front of me was nearly too much for my delicate senses (it is almost too much to sit here and fucking put it to the screen without falling into a mental hole). Needless to say, I gazed and drooled as long as I could hold out from completely swallowing all of her. Jasmine was pleasantly aware of my need to be silent at times. She allowed for the quiet in the room to be replaced by our breathing, and the mood felt as if she knew just what I needed from her. What a girl.

Jasmine wore the most elegant lingerie

Beyond our initial contact in the tub, the remainder of the early evening was spent as one might expect. Skin, alcohol, lips, fingers, tongues, breasts, legs... you know. I need not go into much detail, but suffice to say one of the most delightful moments of that weekend was spent licking Grand Marnier from the small of her back all the way down to the depths of my desire. Just absolutely satisfying, she was.

Jasmine and I napped for a bit before showering together. Shower led us into hunger. Time for dinner. After regaining some sort of composure, the ideas for dinner began to flow and eventually led us back to the House Of Blues. That was nice. Some fish, 1792 bourbon, spinach salad and a bit of B&B for dessert added up to quite the rich experience. I then decided that Jasmine was spending far too much time clothed, so back to the room we trotted. Once there, she became my toy yet again and for the next few hours I proceeded to explore her every inch. She was delicious, warm, soft, and every bit the caressing doll that I had craved. The night melted away and flowed into a soothing and comfortable embrace within our bed. I thanked her profusely for her time and she replied that I would no longer have need to call anyone else for my future visits to the promised land. Mercy. After that evening I was physically satisfied and sufficiently pickled enough to realize the gravity of my errors. I knew all too well that the real world would soon capture and confine me once again. That was all the more reason to drown deeper and that is precisely what I did on Sunday. A heaping helping of damaging behavior was on tap for yours truly.

Sunday morning brought me to my knees. The realization of the effects of running away were cemented deep in my psyche. I knew going home and facing that which I was avoiding would be difficult in the extreme. The time to delude further was at hand. Fuck it. I ordered a few pastries for us along with coffee and Bailey's (let me also add that they really fuck you when ordering full bottles of alcohol via room service, but I did not care at that time). Just a light breakfast was all we needed after the excess dinner the previous night. We showered together (of course) and then headed downstairs for a drink before taking a walk to Caesars. Aurora was empty and inviting. We sat and talked for a bit and then took off for the street. The walk was calm and peaceful.

Shopping within the Forum was uneventful. I made no purchases other than coffee and booze and Jasmine did the same. We merely wanted to be within the fold of the wealthy for a period of time. That is always a fun process to watch. Walking back toward the south and through the casino I noticed Cleopatra's Barge was all lit up for maintenance and it reminded me of my prior trip. The memory was painful. During said weekend I sat in that bar and contemplated killing myself at any moment. I was so fucking down that it seemed nothing could bring me out of such a low. For whatever reason, my comfort level within the club was not exactly blowing up my skirt, so I ventured out of the bar and all the way to the street. That is quite a long walk and an even longer trip back to the Luxor (my resort of choice back then). Along the way my head cleared a bit and upon my arrival at my room I noticed a message from a friend informing me she would be flying down in the morning. That boosted me enough to remain in this world a while longer. Let us turn our attention back to the Sunday in question, as the reference above is a story for another time.

As Jasmine and I walked by the barge that memory flooded into my head very quickly and I had need to take a pause. We turned back toward the Forum and sunk into the Seahorse for a break. That lounge is absolutely cozy. One drink coupled with some flirty chit chat with the server and we returned to our walk. Upon reaching the south exit from Caesars I remembered the Palm and just had to have some lobster. As that legendary restaurant is located within the Forum, we once again tramped through the casino. Lunch was yummy but oh so heavy. That required a midday cardiovascular workout. To the resort we strolled. Of course, I was referring to some afternoon pool and spa time. We limped to the hotel by way of an enchanting little lounge in the Monte Carlo that was just asking for attention. Few others were apparent when we arrived, so the two of us helped to drum up business for the alluring Thai bartender. Jesus, she was a fucking food group and had the typical melange of traveling males attached to her every word. Post drink, we darted back to the Mandalay and changed for the pool. Jasmine wore the most gorgeous yellow bikini, string-tied top and 3/4-cut bottom and just looking every bit the high-maintenance chick that I loved attached to my hip. I wore a body glove of the purple and black variety, all zippers and cash apparent. We swam and drank, leading once again to the feeling that Jasmine was clothed for far too long that day. To the room...

Anything I wished

...and we arrived to find hors d'oeuvres and champagne awaiting our drippiness. Jennifer (the concierge of the day) had outdone herself at making us feel welcomed and appreciated. (If only I could have returned the favor in kind.) We showered for an hour before flopping in for a nap. We never made it to the hot tub. All of that caressing and soapy behavior just took my wind away as it could. Jasmine had a knack for sending me into the fucking clouds. The nap and associated workout brought on the need for decadent and expensive cuisine (no shit, huh?). This time however, she picked the menu. We took to the street and walked all the way to the Venetian. Jesus fuck but that was a long way.

The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. As it was my second visit, I already was aware of the experience ahead of us. That restaurant is simply one of the finest dining establishments in Las Vegas. Every aspect of the operation is fantastic. From classic mint juleps to the caesar dressing manufactured tableside to the fucking epic service, that place is tip top. In Vegas, stating one restaurant as head and shoulders above the rest is quite a feat. In this case, however, the task is easy. Dinner was 4 hours long and worth every second. I could not get enough of that place. Jasmine had some sort of a foodgasm after sampling a combination of prime beef and the luscious sweetness of an old fashioned on ice. I could see in her eyes that such a level of dining was not the norm for her. I just wanted to keep her forever and show her just how rewarding some parts of life could be. Too bad my goddamned head was a supernova in process. After dinner (12am by that point), we strolled through the Venetian and across the street to the beautiful Mirage for a bit of scenery. The members of the cocktail staff there are always lovely and worth a glance or three. Just one more glass of alcohol over ice and we left the waterfall-laden lounge for the street yet again and returned to the coziness and welcoming embrace of the Mandalay Bay - my dream home, as it were. Once back in the room, I peeled Jasmine's attire from her beautiful body and proceeded to paint her skin with my soft tongue. She was delicious and all mine. We slept as two halves of a human pretzel.

Monday morning was far too short in terms of the clock. Things had always tended to become rushed and businesslike when checkout time was apparent. I did not like that at all. The atmosphere changed dramatically and the idea of exiting my favorite place and returning to the world was not something that affected me in any positive way. The entire process needed to be removed from my way of life. The fit was not there at all. On that particular occasion, I knew of the seriousness of my choices. Common sense had been left at the gate in Oakland and after the weekend my mind was once again invaded violently with responsibility and the future. The moments were mounting. I also needed to say goodbye to Jasmine's beauty, warmth, and security, and that was not something I felt could be accomplished easily. The cut had to be quick and sharp. She had become my friend and lover for the entire visit and watching her leave my room and disappear into the dim hallway was almost too much for me to take. That difficulty sits within me now as a harsh reminder of the dramatic gradient between my life and my dreams. I drank to her departure, to my unhappiness, and to the road ahead. I drank in my room, in the elevator, and in the lobby for the last time. I then proceeded out of the hotel with flask in hand and tears in my eyes. All I had left was the mix of pain and fear which enabled my flight from home in the first place. Everything returned so quickly that I seemed to blink and the calendar disappeared before me as it had on so many occasions before.

The soft beauty, grace, and charm that was the Mandalay Bay had exited my consciousness and was replaced with life once again. Just bad. All bad.

Even her shoes turned me on like a switch

I conveyed the entire tale to Juliette. All of it. And the more detail I provided, the more she became enamored with both my storytelling and the story itself. What Jasmine had become on that fateful weekend in two thousand and two was enough to force Juliette to reveal to me that she had read me from the word go. Yes, at the fucking bank she saw me and knew that I could be a person with whom she could be comfortable. Huh? Comfort? With a man who had engaged the services of a prostitute and tossed his life aside for the excess of Vegas? Wow. Just wow. She told me that the escape aspect of that earlier weekend was very telling of the nature of my damaged mind and heart. Further, she stated that had the circumstances of that night's adventure with Jasmine and Bridget not taken place, she may not have viewed me in such a light. Holy fucking crap I just wanted to be all over her and in every conceivable manner. Juliette was unreal.

After spending a while there with conversation and a few quality cocktails, she wished to be truly alone. That was a thought which sent me flying, but I could not resist any request she may have had. That woman was placing herself next to me in so many ways that I had trouble rationalizing or understanding. So, considering all of my escapades in Vegas within so many fucking trips there for all the wrong reasons, I decided to let the world go and become whatever she wished me to be. There was no escaping the powerful draw of her beautiful eyes, huge heart, or the fact that she seemed to know me beyond what was real. I went with it -- with her -- into whatever world we could create. I found myself enamored with all that she was, and all that I knew we would enjoy.

Off the deep end of the scale, and off to the edge of the universe we headed. Juliette took me... she fucking took all of me to a place where I could attach myself without worry, incident, or pain. Her heart wrapped itself around me and warmed me to no end. God help me for the exit which would arrive after such bliss.

We took note of Aurora's wonderful atmosphere and made a beeline to the garage once again to retrieve Juliette's belongings for the stay. Afterward, we scrambled up to the room so she could unpack and spread her things about the vanity. We spoke here and there about things to see and do, places to visit for food and drink, and after her bag was emptied she looked upon me for attention. I assured her that she would be want for nothing no matter the length of stay nor cost. She smiled and walked to me with eyes on fire. The tale had left her wanting much more than the bars and restaurants, and although she seemed to be suddenly in heat, we agreed to move slowly and be certain that our path was clear and understood from that point forward. Jesus god on the mountain of life... the situation finally showed us a beginning upon which we could attach our wants. And they were many, for both.

Juliette dressed in a stunning array of lingerie (displaying nearly all of herself right in front of me but paying no attention to my glancing toward her), an outfit made up of a silk tank and form-fitting low-rise jeans, and a pair of heels which propelled her up and into the likes of nothing I had ever seen before me. I asked if my attire could possibly match her level, and she walked to me with an expression of appreciation followed by a whisper. 'You look fantastic, but nothing you can wear will match your heart. Let's get a drink, talk a bit, and then finally go eat something.' Yes, ma'am.

Fuck me in a muddy ditch, that was the end of my sense. I disconnected myself from all that came before, and embraced the bubble. I walked to her and hugged her for all I was worth. The woman demonstrated unending compassion, kindness, caring, and a gentle nature toward complete strangers (not to mention me). I could not believe Juliette's nature and my good fortune at asking of her at the bank. Still, and despite all of the heavenly thoughts and wondrous imagery flying through my fucked up head, one simple question was still hanging on and swinging to and fro just as a pendulum clocking my very fears...

Why would this beautiful example of womanhood cut and run with me? Oy. We needed to have a conversation, and that time was finally at hand. As gorgeous as she was, standing there dressed to kill, and as the thoughts of ravaging her spun over and over within me, the talking had to come first. I took her hand and we left the room.

Oh my, those thighs

Back down the inclinator and into the casino for the third time.

Juliette and I walked slowly toward the Nile and again she gripped my hand the entire stroll. We took a seat at the empty bar and proceeded to learn of each other. The first order was my reasoning for being there and flying away from my life so quickly. I told her of all that had taken place as well as my feelings toward my life as it stood. Work, my relationship, the previous year's trip to the Luxor, and the idea that my career was becoming stagnant and unsatisfying. As I spoke to her lovely eyes, she sat quietly and caressed my hands. Not a word emanated from her until such time as she felt I needed a break. Juliette took in every word with her full attention and that was something to which I was not accustomed. It was heartwarming.

Cocktails, of course.

On the other side of things, she revealed to me that similar demons were at work inside her head and my dinner invitation became an door of sorts. She had been seeking something outside her life and daily routine but nothing came along. The wait caused her to begin losing faith in the possibility of happiness and a connection with another person which was the top of her list. Apparently, as soon as I appeared at the teller window she saw the difficulty and recklessness in my eyes and wished to know of the how and the why. I told her that when I saw her eyes glistening in the bright lights, I knew she was someone with whom I could spend time and be very comfortable. I stared at her face for several moments because I could not help it. She stared back at me, got up from the chair and pulled my ponytail up to the top of my head. Juliette then kissed the back of my neck, whispered that she needed the restroom, and walked away. I watched her long, tapered legs and her ass as it gyrated back and forth across the casino. Jesus fucking Christ, the woman looked incredible, and she was with me. Criminy. The bartender smiled at me and I looked back with a combination of fear and longing. And bliss. She gave me goosebumps all over.

Upon her return we closed the tab and thanked our bartender for his attention. Across the big bridge again, and this time into Rumjungle. At long last, we sat and had a nice meal which brought me back to the original invitation at the bank. We dined and spoke of how nice it was to be alone. She looked so beautiful that I still stumbled with my words from time to time. That made her giggle and she told me it was ok because she knew there was much more to my heart than carnal thoughts. Fucking hell, what a lovely dinner and companion. To think that I had paid a tremendous sum for a similar type of company just a year before was stirring. Juliette was real. And I mean it. Again she took my hand in her long fingers, and leaned across the table.

'I need you up against me.'

Oh god.

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