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Saturday, March 31, 2012

This Lovers War

I believe in second chances
You're the one that has the answers
I'm looking for
And I could have sworn
That you'd run a thousand miles
To see me
But in your eyes I just don't see it
The longing for

You don't look at me the same way
That you use to but that's okay
I'm moving on
I'm moving on

And if I could
You know I would
But I can't
So I won't
It's hard enough to say goodbye
It's even harder to wonder why
We got where we are
We'd come so far
And now the time has come
We must part
Leave me alone with my broken heart
It's not worth fighting for
I can't take it anymore
This lovers war
This lovers war

I believe that we were right
And I believe the stars still shine
Deep in your eyes
I know we tried
But something still holds me back
You had hit me like a shark attack
Then you were gone
I was all alone

And now we might as well be
Strangers passing on the street
It's time to move on
It's time to move on

And if I could
You know I would
But I can't
So I won't
It's hard enough to say goodbye
It's even harder to wonder why
We got where we are
We'd come so far
And now the time has come
We must part
Leave me alone with my broken heart
It's not worth fighting for
I can't take it anymore
This lovers war
This lovers war

You can't tell I'm crying inside
You just want to move on with your life
You just don't see
How it's affecting me
And if you could give me a reason
For your moods changing like the seasons
We'd be alright
We'd be alright

And now we might as well be
Strangers passing on the street
I've moved on
Yes, I've moved on

And if I could
You know I would
But I can't
So I won't
It's hard enough to say goodbye
It's even harder to wonder why
We got where we are
We'd come so far
And now the time has come
We must part
Leave me alone with my broken heart
It's not worth fighting for
I can't take it anymore
This lovers war
This lovers war

Friday, March 30, 2012

If The World Was To End Tomorrow

If the world was to end tomorrow
How would we know?
Would the sky crash to the Earth
Or would the oceans turn to snow?

If the world was to end tomorrow
What would you do?
Would you spend it with family and friends
Or in the ocean so blue?

If the world was to end tomorrow
How would you say goodbye?
Would you say out loud
Or write it across the sky?

If the world was to end tomorrow
Would you still hold me?
Would you wrap me up in your arms
And not let anything hurt me?

If the world was to end tomorrow
Would you still love me?
Would I still be important?
Would we still be a 'we'?

Don't Toy With Me

Don't toy with me
Don't let me think everything's okay
I'm not fooled by your words
I see through your charade

Don't toy with me
Don't toy with my emotions
Stop pulling on my heart strings
I can't help going through the motions

Never have been so unhappy
Never have I cried so much
I should have never fallen for you
You broke my heart and my trust

Don't toy with me
Please just stop talking
Can't you see what you've done
Can't you see I'm broken

Don't toy with me
I'm not longer your muse
Now I'm just the pathetic girl
Who's always singing the blues

Never have I been so depressed
I want my life to end
I know time heals all wounds
But these wounds just won't mend

Don't toy with me
Don't say words you don't mean
Don't call me Sweetie or Babe
Stop treating me like a queen

You know I still love you
So I give one final plea
As much as it pains me to say
Please don't toy with me

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

High School Hell

As I sit here at my desk, I feel confused. Not confused as to where I am or who I am, but what I'm doing. I haven't been here in this place since 2003. Way back in high school. You see, in high school it is safe to say I was a loser. I was an outcast, someone who was bullied and tormented everyday. My weight, my hair, my skin. Whatever else you can imagine, it became the subject of humiliation.

By the time I turned seventeen, I had enough of it. I was in my own personal hell and I was sick of the shit I had to go through. I was sick of the name calling, the constant undermining of my opinion, the lack of support.

I have nothing against the school I went to. In fact, it was a great school. My teachers loved me and in their eyes, I could do no wrong. My uniform was impeccable, I was always on time and my assignments were always handed in a week before they were due. Yes, I know. I make Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory look like an actual superhero.

So, when did I first pick up the book? June 7th, 2003. Why? I'm not sure. Did I really want to hurt someone? Yes, probably. I confess, my heart is dark and no matter what I say or who I'm with, I know I'll always be a 'dark' person.

After getting into another school yard brawl with Hayley* I finally decided to do something about it. Did I really believe in witchcraft? Up until that night I didn't. I just saw it as another way to be considered a 'freak' among my peers. It was something that I longed for. To be powerful. Respected. Feared.

I had bought hundreds of spell books during my Wicca phase back when I was 13. Dark arts, spells for beginners, 101 ways to toast your enemies. I was in the zone.

Armed with one of books, and a bag of supplies, I set out late at night. Did I really have any idea as to what I was doing? God, no. But I knew that any alternate reality was better then the hell I was currently living in. I arrived at the school grounds and climbed the fence. I sat down in the middle of the football field began my plan.

Pulling my candles from my bag I began to chant. The first part of the spell I knew like the back of my hand. I lit the candles, one by one, placing them around me in a circle. Opening the book to where I had marked the page, I began my ultimate revenge. I called upon a demon so heinous that it would take many years before I forget the image of its face. Even now, thinking back, I can still see its glowing red eyes, staring at me, freezing my soul. 

Was I afraid? Yes. I was shitting myself. I had no idea what I was invoking and I'm pretty certain I had no idea what kind of power it would unleash if fully released.

I continued to summon the creature, determined to end my misery. What scares me the most is that it worked. Hayley never bothered me again. Whenever she spoke to me, I could see it in her eyes. She feared me. It amused me.

My new found power served me well throughout the remainder of high school. But it wasn't until the last day, right before graduation that I understood it in its entirety. 

Standing in the bathroom, washing my hands, checking out my reflection, I noticed it. I blinked, convincing myself that I was seeing things. I turned off the tap and studied my reflection. Nope, I wasn't seeing things. Looking back at me was me, with glowing red eyes.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Gore Vs. Fear

What does it take to make a modern day horror movie? Add one dash of hot chicks, a few cloves of victims, a teaspoon of serial killer, copious amounts of gore, stir and presto! A modern day horror film.

Since the turn of the century, horror films have taken a severe detour when it comes to how to scare people. Directors and writers alike have thrown aside the suspense in favour of blood, guts and gore. The question is why.

I’m not going to get into the argument of if horror films promote real life violence (simply because I don’t believe that they do – to quote Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich) from Scream “Don’t you blame the movies. Movies don’t create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative”), but I am going to look at suspense verses gore and what sets iconic movies like Silence Of The Lambs and Halloween apart from that of Saw and Paranormal Activity.

Suspense is what makes horror, well, horrifying. Whether it be something as simple as the score (Come on, how many of you would be pissing yourselves if you were in the ocean and someone started humming the ‘Jaws’ theme?) or shadows, suspense is the reason that old school horror, like that of Psycho, will remain timeless.

Most films today seem to forget this and focus more on how many people can they dissect in ninety minutes and how many fake limbs are needed. The days of caring about the story and the characters are long gone.

Let’s take a quick look at Saw. I was impressed by the first film because the concept was original and there was a storyline and believable characters. They combined both gore and suspense well, and didn’t treat the audience as simpletons. But as the sequels emerged so did a frightening factor: Blood, guts and gore. The Saw series is no longer scary but stomach churning. Suspense no longer exists except for a sudden burst of dramatic music when something jumps out at our ‘victims’. I walked out of Saw IV because I couldn’t stomach what I was watching.

So why does it seem that horror of late wants to disgust us rather then scare us? Simple. We’re desensitised by everything we witness on the news and in the media so a film has to go above and beyond that to get a reaction from its core audience. So if that means flinging a rib cage at the screen, then so be it.

Paranormal Activity was a huge success because the creators took a step back from the blood and gore and stuck with suspense. They went the opposite way to the Saw series and were rewarded by it. Now, I have to admit, I was bored to tears with Paranormal Activity and found myself fast forwarding 98% of the movie because I couldn’t connect with the characters. I didn’t feel for the characters, I didn’t find the story that interesting and when the ‘surprise’ at the end happened, I just sat there and said to my friends, “Wait. Was that it?”

Paranormal Activity followed the footsteps of The Blair Witch Project. Low budget with an original concept loaded to the brim with suspense and lack of blood. The only difference for me was The Blair Witch Project had likable characters and for years was passed off as something that really happened. Some people to this day still believe that. It was suspenseful, it generated a lot of buzz from the film industry, and above all, it didn’t rely on gore to scare. It relied on story telling and believable characters. When Heather, Josh and Mike felt fear and were terrified, so was the audience. It was scary because it was deemed to be real. We were suckered into the story.

When an audience becomes part of the terrifying story then fear will follow.

When Halloween hit cinema in 1978, theatre goers would cover their ears because the music was too scary. John Carpenter’s theme music still scares audiences today. In fact, it’s the only thing that will wake me from a dead sleep. But it wasn’t just the music that causes Halloween to rank at number 2 in the top 10 of scariest films (Empire magazine November 2010). It was the use of low lighting, blue light, shadows, great story telling and surprise, surprise, lack of blood. Michael Myers terrified audiences through out the world by blending in. He would materialise from the shadows as the score grew louder. The only indication that he was there was his ragged breathing. And when he was unmasked by Laurie during a final struggle, audiences read more fear into his revealed face then intended. To quote director and writer John Carpenter, “The place went ape shit.”

Michael Myers is a horror movie juggernaut. Along with Friday the 13th’s Jason Voorhees and Nightmare On Elm Street’s Freddy Krueger, Michael has terrorised audiences for over thirty years. Something about that movie struck a cord with audiences the world over. For my mother, who saw it at the drive-in in ’78, it was Michael’s mask. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see it materialise out of the darkness. For others, it’s the infamous closet sequence where our heroine, Laurie, is trapped and Michael is breaking down the door, literally, to get to her. Or perhaps it’s Dr. Loomis’ speech about how ‘pure evil’ Michael is. But for me, it will always be that menacing score. No film today has been able to match it. Although Scream was sneaky and had Halloween playing in the background at the party ergo the same music was used for both pictures.

I want to take a moment to look at movies that promote genuine fear. Not some man in mask, but real fears. Buried, whist I personally wouldn’t consider it a horror, plays on the real fear of being buried alive as well as claustrophobia. Python and Anaconda delivered on our fear of snakes. Alligator taught us not to flush pets down the toilet, and as for Jaws, well, I know people that still won’t go in the ocean.

But the difference between Jaws and something like Deep Blue Sea is the suspense. In Deep Blue Sea we are introduced to the sharks in a similar fashion to Jaws in that the story begins with an attack, however unlike Jaws, this attack is not fatal. (Fun fact, the number plate that is pulled from the sharks mouth at the beginning is the same number plate pulled from the tiger shark in Jaws). The makos in Deep Blue Sea are shown more regularly then the Great White in Jaws and therefore subconsciously desensitising us from everything that is about to take place. Not to mention that the CGI work was terrible and I have never encountered a 45 foot mako (the largest on record is 13 feet) which deducts points from the story for believability.

I didn’t jump once when the makos made their appearance, but when Jaws popped his head up out of the water to say hi to Chief Brody, you bet I jumped. I also agreed that they were going to need a bigger boat.

From what I’ve seen of movies such as Shark Night 3D, it’s going to be a senseless blood bath. As a lover of sharks, it’s heart breaking to see something like this depicting these animals as cold-blooded killers. Yes, there are fatalities that are the result of shark attacks, but I assure you something like Shark Night 3D is in no way as believable as what happened in Jaws. From the trailer alone I can see that Shark Night 3D is a gore-fest, with no real thought behind the scares. It’s a group of kids (aren’t they all) isolated and used as shark bait. There’s no real thought behind it. It’s just like every other shark film that’s been made since 1975 with the exception of The Reef in 2010.

So why don’t modern film makers take a look at the past and try to recreate what happen in classics? I’m not talking about remaking a classic (that’s a whole other argument) but learning from it. Use shadows, use lighting, use music to create your mood. Have people that are believable and a storyline to match.

As movie goers evolve so does cinema. Unfortunately, when it comes to the views of horror, people assume that more blood is better. Would you rather witness a man being torn limb from limb or a well thought out stalking chase with a final showdown that will result in a bloody aftermath? I’m not suggesting that future horrors suspend their use of blood and gore. I’m suggesting that they tone it down. Take a note from classics from the past. Focus more effort on your story and your characters and you will be rewarded.

The Chain Letter

Chain letters. We all get them. Whether they're through e-mails or text messages is irrelevant. What matters is that most people don't bother sending them on. Instead, opting to scoff at the words “You will die if you don't send this message to (insert number of people here).”

I was one of those people. Now, I know what the icy cold grip of the Reaper's hand feels like.

Would you like to hear my story? 

It all started one Saturday night. I was out with my girlfriends, having a good time, dancing up a storm at one of the many clubs in the city.

After a few too many drinks, we felt like we were untouchable. No man stood a chance against us, should we have wanted to pick up and score.

It was nearly midnight when Tina grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bathroom. “In four minutes, I'm going to die,” she said as she reapplied her lipstick calmly.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, teetering in my heels as I perched myself on the vanity. Tina repeated what she had just said. “No, no, I heard that. What I meant was, huh? You're not going to kill yourself, are you?”

“Oh no,” Tina laughed, dismissing my concern with a wave of her hand. “It's because of this.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a message.

Squinting to read the screen, I saw from the opening sentence that it was a chain letter. “Oh come on!” I scoffed. “You don't really believe in that bullshit, do you?”

Tina frowned as she stared at me. “I didn't. Not at first. But now I do. You have to be careful with these things. I got that message a week ago. I read it, thought 'Yeah right' then went on with my day. Then the message was back the next day, from the same number, listed as sent at the same time. When I deleted it again, my phone rang and a raspy voice told me that I shouldn't have done that because dismissing a chain letter would result in my death.”

I held up my hand, silencing her. “I've dismissed hundreds, if not thousands of these things and I've never seen one come true. I even sent one to the recommended people and nothing. My dream of total happiness didn't come true. I'm still single.” I shrugged. “It's just a stupid joke that someone is playing on you.”

I got up and left the bathroom, leaving Tina to ponder over my words. 

Less than two minutes later, she was dead.

As we stood in silence, watching the police cart her body away, I overheard a detective talk about Tina's remains. 

“It was like she was scared to death,” he had said to a passing police officer. “Something spooked her real good.”

Four weeks later, the coroner ruled Tina's death an accident. Truthfully, the cops had no fucking idea what had killed her. Everyone was cleared in the investigation.

During those four weeks, all I could think of was Tina's last words to me. If I had have taken her seriously, would I have been able to save her?

The chilling answer was “No.”

Life went on. My friends and I drifted apart, each of us refusing to talk about that night. I would often see Tina in my dreams, warning me about chain letters. That they were indeed responsible for her death. 

I couldn't make any sense of that. I mean, how could the person who sends you the chain letter, know whether or not you sent it on, or to the correct amount of people? It was illogical to me.

But not as illogical as what happened that next week at work.

Wednesday came, the day of the big merger between my company and the company that Tina use to work for. We had been looking forward to it, finally working together after being competitors for such a long time. 

That's when I got it. An e-mail. Sent from Tina's account.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened it. This is what it said.

Nightmares are nothing but dreams gone bad. I am living a nightmare everyday, with no means of escape except forwarding this e-mail on.

My name is Tina. I'm 27 years old and I am currently in a coma in St. Angel's Hospital. My friends have abandoned me, and my family is long gone. My coma is my prison. My nightmare. I was sent here because I didn't forward this e-mail on. My punishment is this; an eternity of wondering between the worlds.

You have ten minutes to forward this e-mail onto ten friends, otherwise you'll suffer the same fate I have. My nightmare will become yours should you ignore this. For if you do, SHE will come for you. What would you rather? Take ten minutes now to send this to ten friends, or have HER stalk you for the next seven days, before finally taking your soul and essence, leaving you to join me in limbo?

Your ten minutes begins now...

At the bottom of the e-mail was an image of Tina's body, lying still in a hospital bed. Yes, that came as a shock. But the horrid image of a demonic and deranged woman that was hiding under the bed was what sent chills down my spine. Her face made Linda Blair in The Exorcist look like a beauty pageant contender.

I sat there staring at the screen, unable to tear my eyes away from the image before me. I must have read that e-mail a hundred times, trying to work out who really sent it to me.

Tina's final words haunted me as my cursor hovered over the forward button.

I clicked on it and waited while my computer opened a new screen. I had just begun to type in a couple of e-mail addresses when a pop up told me I had gotten a new e-mail from Tina's account.

Saving the draft, I exited the page I was on in favour of opening the new e-mail. My jaw dropped as I stared at the screen.


I couldn't believe it. I glanced up at the clock. Ten minutes had actually passed while I was staring at the initial e-mail. I dropped my head in my hands, gripping my hair. Tears sprung to my eyes. I didn't know what was worse. The e-mail signalling that I was too late in forwarding the chain letter on, or the fact that under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have believe it.

Excusing myself, I rushed out of the office, entering the bathroom. 

It's just a prank,” I told myself, staring at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my dark hair falling in front of my eyes. I brushed my bangs aside and splashed cool water over my face, trying to calm my nerves.

When I looked up at myself, I screamed. My face wasn't staring back at me. That horrid face from the chain letter grinned evilly. Her jagged teeth were discoloured and chipped, her lips cracked and her face looked like something that had smashed on the pavement after plummeting off the top of the world's tallest building.

Seven days left,” SHE hissed, her black eyes shining with delight. “Seven days.”

And just like that, SHE was gone.

I tried to remain calm, but I wasn't fooling anyone. My boss sent me home, citing that I was overworked.

That night, I covered every mirror in my house. I thought about shattering them, but decided against it. Just because I was going to die in seven days didn't mean I needed seven years of bad luck in another life.

For the next six days, I spent time with my family. I had a lot of alone time too, trying to get my affairs in order. I couldn't leave this world knowing that my family wasn't going to be taken care of.

I had even pondered over the notion of what limbo would be like, seeing as that's where the e-mail said I was heading. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. If Tina was really there, then she and I could seriously get the party started.

As the clock ticked down my final minutes, I began to panic. I didn't want to die. Part of me still believed it was a joke, but most of my brain focused on the strange events that had plagued me throughout the week. Every 24 hours, there SHE was, staring back at me from the mirror, her villainous gaze fixating on me, clearly reminding me that I was her next victim. It didn't matter where I was, SHE always found me.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I glanced up at the clock. One more minute remaining.

Slowly, I stood up. I had locked all the doors to my apartment. My mirrors were covered, my windows bolted shut. Basically, the only way my neighbours would know I'm dead is by the smell that my body would give off after a couple of days. No one could get in and that was the main point.

A knock at the door, had me screaming in terror. 

Quickly, I rushed to it, unlocking it and pulling it open.

Standing before me was the hideous woman from the e-mail. Her grin broadened when she saw the look of fear in my eyes. I opened my mouth to scream, which pleased her further as her cold hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing.

Time's up,” SHE said, her voice raspy, as she pushed back inside my apartment, the door slamming behind us.

It took a week for anyone to notice I was missing. A week before my body began giving off the stench of death.

I watched from afar as police carted out my body, my face twisted in a horrid scream, my hands frozen in a position that looked like I was clawing at the air. My blue eyes that were once so full of life, were just as dead as the rest of me.

As I type this, I'm sending out what is my freedom pass. A chain letter, describing my death, my limbo nightmare and evidently what will happen should the recipient fail to forward it on. 

Tina was smart. In a bid to release her body from this hellish nightmare, she sent the chain letter to someone she knew would doubt it. Me. 

And now, I must do the same...


Saturday, March 24, 2012

Want And Desire

Amanda Prescott sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen. She was suppose to be finishing her final report before the merger, but all the numbers were blending together. Her mind was elsewhere.

When she had arrived at work that morning, Monica had dragged her into her office to discuss what had happened last night with the escort that Amanda had hired.

“We had sex,” Amanda said, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she sat down in her chair. Monica perched herself on the corner of the desk. “And?” she prompted.

“It was fantastic,” she sighed, breaking into a smile for the first that day. “He knew exactly what he was doing, he was sweet, considerate, and gorgeous. I mean, really, really gorgeous. And the way he kissed me, oohh.” Her eyes closed as she remembered Steve's lips on hers. “Monica, he was the definition of perfection.”

Monica smiled. “I knew you'd enjoy it. Money well spent?”

Amanda nodded, her smile falling from her face as she remembered paying Steve to be with her. 

“I have to get crunching these numbers,” she said, blinking back tears. Monica nodded, stating she had two reports on her desk that were due yesterday. Amanda smiled, hugged her friends and closed her office door.

Now she was sitting at her desk, staring out the window, watching the world go by. 

She bit her trembling lip when the sad thought crossed her mind that the only way she would ever experience sex or intimacy again would be by hiring someone for a couple of hours.

She grabbed her purse and pulled out Steve's business card. She stared at it with want and desire, her body tingling as she remembered his lips caressing her body, sucking on her nipples until they were hard as diamonds and how his hands expertly explored her body with a passion she had never felt before.

Payment or not, Steve had actually wanted to be with her. His eyes had been filled with lust as he entered her swollen flesh. She suddenly felt a little better about everything that had happened.

By the time lunch rolled around, Amanda's mood had changed. She was in a foul mood. Her report had taken forever to complete, one of the interns had spilt coffee on her and the photocopier had somehow managed to shoot toner all over her nice white blouse.

She stormed out of the office, wearing her black jacket covering the mess that was her blouse. Her feet hurt as her shoes pinched and her hair was just a mess. She was going out to buy a new top, grab some lunch and some gel inserts for her heels, then she'd be back at her desk, fluttering around until it was time for her to leave.

Amanda stormed out of her building and marched down the street.

Twenty minutes later, she had bought a new top which she had changed into immediately after leaving the store. 

She stopped to look in a jewellery store window, staring at engagement rings, knowing that she's probably never be in possession of one.


Her head snapped up.

Standing before her was Steve.

“S-s-s-Steve,” she stammered, her eyes growing wide as she backed off a little. 

He looked different. His blonde hair was slicked back and he was wearing an expensive black suit, with a blood red silk tie.

He caught her elbow as she teetered in her heels. “Well, that was graceful,” she said, smoothing down her black pencil skirt.

Steve grinned, his eyes lighting up. “So, what were you looking at?” he asked, nodding his head as an indication. Amanda turned her head. “Nothing, really,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Steve arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

They walked in silence until Steve asked her how she was doing. 

“Good. Fine. I had a photocopier throw up its toner all over me, a report that was suppose to have only taken an hour to complete, ended up taking me four hours, and a stupid little intern that has no real business about being in the company spilt his coffee on me, so I had to come out to buy a new blouse.” She glanced up at him. “I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm having a bad day.”

Steve pulled her over to a bench and sat down next to her. “It certainly sounds that way,” he said, leaning back, his strong, muscular legs parted slightly. 

Amanda couldn't help but stare, licking her lips, as she remembered those strong legs wrapped around her. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was lusting after a man that was not available to her. The story of her life.

“So, how can we turn your bad day into something that puts a smile on your face?” Steve asked, suggestively. Amanda looked up at him and saw that mischievous twinkle in his eye that she had seen the night before. Right before he had rubbed her clitoris with such fury as their bodies gyrated against each other, exhuming all the pleasure they could from each other.

“I don't know,” she replied, desperately thinking of something non-arousing. Dead puppies. Her grandmother. That stupid intern from her office. “Shoot me?”

Steve arched his eyebrow. “Do we have another option? One that doesn't result in the death of a wonderful woman.” 

It was Amanda's turn to arch her eyebrow. “Wonderful woman? You wouldn't be killing a wonderful woman. It would just be me. Trust me, I could do for an eternity of sleep right now.”

Steve frowned. “OK, that eternity of sleep thing was a little funny, but Amanda, you are a wonderful woman. I know I haven't known you for very long, but what I saw of you last night already proves my point. You're wonderful, you're sweet, you're kind, and above all, you are beautiful.”

Amanda stared up at him. That mischievous look had gone. “And how many women have you told that to?” she said, rudely, before getting up and walking off, leaving Steve sitting alone, looking perplexed.

Back in the office, Amanda was over come with guilt. All Steve was trying to do was boost her self-confidence and she had shot him down and acted like a spoilt brat. How the hell was she suppose to work when all she could think of was him?

She stared at his business card, biting her lower lip, tasting her strawberry lip gloss. That's it. She was going to call him, apologise and should he accept it, she was then going to book another couple of hours with him.

She picked up the phone before promptly putting it down again. She couldn't call him directly. Not after how abrasive she had been.

Amanda tapped her long French tipped nails on her desk. Sighing, she picked up the phone and began to dial...

Steve stood outside the hotel, a card in his hand. He had been booked tonight, but when the escort agency rang to say that someone offered to pay double for his company for the entire night, he couldn't pass it up.

He studied the card. Ms. Prescott, room 1216. No first name given. Sighing, he stepped inside the lobby.

Ten minutes later, he was standing at the entrance to room 1216. He straightened his tie, smoothed back his hair and knocked loudly.

“It's open,” came a woman's voice from inside.

Steve opened the door. The room was huge. A suite in fact. A large, king size bed sat centre of the room, a small lounge like area near the window with a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. He could see a bottle of red wine sitting next to two glasses. Ms. Prescott has clearly done this before, he thought as he entered the room.

Except, there was no sign of her. 

Steve stepped out onto the balcony. Aside from a couple of potted plants and two iron chairs, it was empty. 

Steve headed back in, moving over to the bathroom. The door was shut. He knocked. “Ms. Prescott?” he called. 

“You may enter,” came a woman's voice.

Steve pushed open the door and gasped.

Sitting in a large bubble bath was Amanda.

Steve's jaw dropped. “Amanda? What the -?”

“I wanted to apologise for the way I acted earlier today,” she said, leaning back, the soapy bubbles barely covering her breasts. In fact, Steve could see her nipples breaking free of the bubbles, begging to be touched and sucked.

“So you hired me for the whole night?”

She nodded. “I rang your agency and told them I would double your usual rate for a night with you. I asked that you not know it was me, because I had a feeling if you did, you wouldn't have shown up.”

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, removing his jacket, discarding it on the vanity.

Amanda stared up at him, her green eyes filled with want and desire. “Because of the way I acted,” she said softly.

Steve removed his tie, slipping his shoes off before removing his shirt to reveal his chiselled chest. He unzipped his pants, dropping them to the cool tiled floor. His boxer-briefs followed. He removed his socks and stood before her completely naked, his body bronzed like a sculpture that would impress Michelangelo.

Amanda licked her lips, her eyes glazing over as Steve told her to scoot forward. She obeyed, the water rushing past her body. 

Steve climbed in and sat down, pulling Amanda back against his body. He cupped her breasts, running his fingers across her hardened nipples, pulling them until they were rivalling him in the rock hard department.

"Even if I had have known it was you, I still would have turned up,” he whispered, dipping his tongue in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I enjoyed our time together, and all day, I've been wondering if I would ever be able to fuck you again.”

Amanda shivered as she felt his hand glide down over her stomach and slide in between her thighs. Steve kissed the back of her neck as his finger teased her clitoris, rubbing it in slow, circular movements. Amanda's head rolled back, her eyes closing as Steve continued to play her body like a harp.

His tongue tickled the sensitive skin along her neck as his finger slipped into her wetness. His lips pressed against her flesh, his teeth nipped at her, causing her moans to become louder. 

Amanda's body was responding to his touch. Despite being in a bath, he could feel her juices flowing over his finger as it plundered the depths of her body, withdrawing only to tease her delicate clitoris that was engorged. 

Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. The slightest caress from him caused a low moan that began in her toes.

Steve slid two fingers inside her. His erection pressed against the small of her back as her hips rocked back and forth, finding a rhythm that would send her over the edge. 

He slid down a little so that her head was resting on his shoulder. With his free hand he fondled her breasts, watching her face as she tried to remember how to breathe. 

Her skin was flushed, her eyes had rolled back in her head and her body was grinding against his hand, begging for release, when she turned the tables on him. Her hand slid behind her back, grasping his length, causing a strangled gasp to escape from Steve's mouth.

“Is this OK?” she asked, her hand sliding up and down his pulsing member.

Steve's eyes closed, his head falling backwards, his breathing changing. “Oh God yes,” he said breathlessly. Her hand grasped him tighter as she quickened her pace, only to slow it down again before upping the intensity. 

Steve bit his lip. He couldn't come before she had. Not a rule of the agency, but his own personal rule. He pushed her upright, removing her hand from his cock. “But this is about pleasuring you,” he said, his eyes snapping open, staring deeply into hers.

He pushed his fingers deep inside her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris, his free hand holding her wrists to prevent her from attempting to pleasure him.

Amanda groaned as that familiar tingle spread throughout her belly. With a sudden cry, she lifted herself slightly, her head falling back, her hair caressing his shoulder as her orgasm took control of her body. 

Steve whispered soothing words to her as she settled back down, her body twitching. He withdrew his fingers, giving her a couple of farewell strokes, causing her body to shudder.

He nipped at her neck. Amanda yelped, craning her head around to look at him. Her eyes glowed an ominous green. “You're good,” she said, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Steve placed his hand on the back of her head and lent in for a kiss. Her tongue massaged his, her hand returning to his cock, rubbing him, her slender fingers stroking him. She felt his cock respond to her touch, quivering with delight as her grip increased. 

They parted and Steve let out an animal like growl as Amanda focused on bringing him to an orgasm. Up. Down. Up. Down. Squeeze. Release. She teased Steve expertly until he pushed her away, scrambling to his feet.

Amanda watched with interest as Steve began to masturbate himself. His hand became a flurry of motion. In a matter of seconds he was groaning as his cock spewed forth its hot, sticky load all over Amanda's breasts. Amanda automatically began rubbing it into her skin, feeling the heat of his come mingling with her body.

Steve opened his eyes, watching Amanda as his cream disappeared into her skin. “Looks like someone is dirty again,” he said, suggestively, winking at her.

Amanda grinned in a teasing manner. “Then why don't you help wash me?”

To be continued...

Thursday, March 22, 2012


Amanda Prescott paced the hotel room.

She stopped to look at the clock beside the bed. 6:52. She began to chew on her acrylic nail. She had never been so nervous in her life. Why, oh why, was she going through with this?

She continued pacing. She blamed her co-worker. If Monica hadn't have come to work on Monday, grinning like the God damned Cheshire Cat, then Amanda wouldn't be in this kind of situation. Yes, that's it. It's all Monica's fault.

A knock at the door caused Amanda's head to turn, her green eyes widening with fear.

Hesitantly, she pulled open the door. A gorgeous man stood before her. His sandy blonde hair was well groomed, his face chiselled and clean shaven, and his eyes were the most gorgeous shade of deep blue that Amanda had ever seen.

“Hi,” he greeted, flashing his perfect smile. “I'm Steve. Are you Amanda?”

Amanda nodded, swallowing hard, her eyes looking at her feet. She moved aside to allow Steve into the room. He was impeccably dressed with black dress pants, a crisp red shirt and a black jacket. The top two buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned.

“I'm just going to have a quick shower, then we can get started,” he said, giving her an easy-going smile. Again, Amanda nodded, unsure of what to do. She lamely pointed to the bathroom and watched as Steve entered, closing the door behind him.

Sighing, Amanda wandered out onto the balcony of the inner-city hotel. This was definitely all Monica's fault.

Monica had her sister's wedding to attend, and with no date prospect, she had hired a male escort to attend with her. She had booked him for the whole weekend and ended up having the best sex of her life. 

“We were so loud, that we actually had complaints from the occupants in the rooms next to ours,” she had told Amanda on Monday morning before their big meeting. “Thomas was just amazing.”

“So, you paid a guy to spend the whole weekend with you?” The concept for a male escort was foreign to Amanda. She had never once considered paying a man to sleep with her. Monica had nodded. “Of course, you don't have to have him for a weekend. You can hire him for a couple of hours, get your rocks off, then he leaves. I have to say, it was the best money I've ever spent.”

Amanda glanced down at the city below. 

Later that day, Monica had swung by Amanda's office to discuss an upcoming merger and found her trolling the internet, looking for male escorts. Amanda had confessed it had been nearly a year since she had last had sex, and the future was looking pretty bleak.

Standing at 5'6, Amanda was cute. Not pretty. Not knock-out stunning. Cute. She had green eyes, honey blonde hair, large breasts that were more a curse than a blessing, and hips to match. Monica, on the other hand, was tall with sweeping raven hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin and had no fat anywhere on her body. If they walked down the street together, everyone would look at Monica.

Now, as she stood on the balcony, her hair blowing wildly in the wind, she felt even more self-concious.

Monica had told her to relax, and to enjoy herself. “Have a glass of wine, relax in a bubble bath, the put on your sexiest bra and panty set and a large fluffy robe.” 

That afternoon, Amanda found herself shopping for lingerie.  

The wind blew, whistling between the concrete and glass buildings. Amanda tighten the tie on her white, fluffy robe. She hadn't even noticed that Steve had finished his shower.

He wrapped his arms around her. Amanda screamed, spinning around, her hand over her heart. Steve back off. “Hey, it's just me,” he said, smiling at her. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Amanda nodded, wishing her heart would stop beating so fast. She was afraid it would break right through her chest.

It was then she noticed that Steve was naked. Well, she assumed he was naked. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, a few stray water droplets ran down over his muscular body. His arms were huge, his shoulders broad, his abs....well, Amanda could barely contain the drool that had developed in her mouth.

“Why don't we come back inside?” Steve suggested, taking her hand and pulling her back into the hotel room.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, patting beside him, subtlety asking her to join him. Amanda folded her arms across her body, hugging herself. Her nerves had finally set in.

“I've never done this before,” she said, softly as she sat beside him.

She ducked her head, refusing to look at the gorgeous half naked man sitting beside her. Steve cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “I can tell,” he said softly. “Amanda, we don't have to have sex if you don't want to. You've paid for my company. If you want to sit here and talk for a couple of hours, I'm fine with that. Or if you want to get dressed, we can go out. Hell, I'm even up for a game of Twister.” Amanda giggled as Steve gave her a lopsided devilish grin. 

He touched her hand, lightly grazing his thumb over her ivory skin. “It's not always about sex,” he added, his eyes trained on hers.

Amanda bit her lower lip. “Do you want to have sex?” she asked, timidly.

Steve took her hand and placed it on his groin that was covered by the towel. Her eyes widened when she felt his erection strain against her palm. “Does that answer your question?” he asked.

Amanda nodded, licking her lips, her eyes trained on Steve's package.

He lent in slowly, kissing her neck. Amanda's eyes closed and she whimpered. Steve softly chuckled to himself. “Stand up,” he said. Amanda's eyes opened again and she obeyed, scrambling to her feet. 

Reaching out to her, Steve undid her robe. He stood up, gently gliding the fluffy hotel robe off her body, allowing it to crumple onto the floor. 

Amanda stood before him, her arms automatically covering her stomach and breasts. Steve grabbed her arms and pushed her backwards until her back came into contact with the wall. He kissed the nape of her neck, his tongue tracing a trail down to her collarbone, licking and sucking at her flesh, his fingers intertwined with hers.

He took a step back, admiring her. Amanda's hands crept up to cover her semi-nakedness but Steve stopped her. “You have the most luscious breasts I have ever seen,” he said, taking her hands and placing them over her head. “Don't cover them up.” He kissed the tops of her breasts, his tongue tickling the skin.

Amanda's breathing became more ragged. Her skin was flushed, her nipples straining against the flimsy material of her black and pink lace bra. Steve grinned, pinching her nipple between his fingers. Her gasps were music to his ears.

He pulled her into his body, his erection pressing against her body. He unclasped her bra, discarding it. The feel of her naked breasts pressed against his chest made his cock jump with anticipation. 

Steve dropped to his knees, his hands fondling her breasts, pulling on her taut nipples, watching her facial reactions. He kissed along her belly, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton. He could smell her arousal.

Amanda let out a guttural groan when Steve stopped, opting to get to his feet. He took her hand and led her back to the bed. “Lie down,” he instructed. Amanda did. Steve placed his body on top of hers and kissed her passionately.

Amanda was shocked. She had heard somewhere that an escort wouldn't kiss a client. Something about it being to personal. Oh wait. That was from Pretty Woman.

Steve slid down over her body, his mouth enclosing around one of her nipples as he sucked it, nipping it gently, feeling it harden in his mouth, while his hand worked the other breast, kneading it, tugging her nipple until Amanda cried out, begging him not to stop.

Steve moved down, feeling her body writhe beneath his touch. He pulled her panties down. The crotch was wet and the scent of her arousal flooded his nostrils. He planted a soft kiss on her pubic bone as he parted her legs.

Amanda was wet, her juices seeping out of her, trickling down her thigh. Steve ran his tongue along her creamy white thigh, picking up her trail, tasting her desire for him. 

He traced a finger along her pussy, feeling the slickness of her want. Without any trouble, he inserted two fingers. He could feel her clamp down, her inner muscles trapping the invaders of her body. With his thumb, Steve began to rub her clitoris, feeling it throb with desire and anticipation of the ultimate release. For a brief moment, his thoughts flooded back to his own throbbing appendage. He shifted his weight and continued to focus on Amanda.

He could feel her excitement building, her body twitching at his touch. He watched as her hands gripped the bed sheets, her long black nails lost in a sea of white cotton. He watched as her eyes closed and her back arched. He smiled as her gasps became more audible. 

And then she came with a sudden strangled cry escaping her throat.

Steve smiled in satisfaction as her body began to relax a little. He withdrew his fingers which caused Amanda to whimper at the sudden loss she felt.

She propped herself up on her elbows, trying to think of something to say to him, when Steve removed his towel. Amanda's jaw dropped. To say he had a large package would have been an understatement. He was huge!

Steve rolled on a condom, relishing her expression. He positioned himself between her thighs, his strong arms holding her legs apart. His thumb returned to rubbing her clitoris which was highly sensitive. Amanda's eyes closed as, with one swift thrust, Steve entered her.

He took her hands, holding them above her head, his body pressing down on hers. He kissed her neck as he slid in and out of her with ease.

She looked up at him, her eyes half open, a glassy expression crossing her face as her hips bucked back to meet his. He kissed her passionately, his tongue massaging hers, sweat from his brow trickling down his nose.

Amanda's moans of pleasure grew louder as Steve picked up the pace. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said, in between grunts. Amanda obliged, crossing her ankles, locking Steve in place. He pulled her up into his lap so that she was riding him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands gripped her hips, lifting her upwards before pulling her down fully on his length.

Her clitoris rubbed against his tense abdominal muscles. Sweat slid down Steve's chest as his breathing became more ragged. 

“I want you to come for me again,” he said, setting his jaw, his eyes studying the beautiful creature before him that was gyrating her body on his.

Amanda opened her eyes. “I don't think I can,” she panted.

Steve's eyes twinkled with delight. Still with one arm wrapped around her, he slid the other hand between them.


Amanda's eyes rolled back into her head as his fingers found their way expertly to her clit, rubbing her to the point of no return. With a loud cry, Amanda lifted herself from him, her body shuddering as she came again.

Steve smiled before letting go of his restraint and coming with her.

Exhausted, Amanda collapsed on the bed as Steve untangled himself from her. 

Breathing hard, she opened her eyes. “That was – whoa,” was all she could say. Steve chuckled. He glanced at the clock. “I’m going to take another shower,” he said. Amanda nodded, suddenly feeling self-concious and pulling the sheet up over her naked body.

She watched as Steve made his way into the bathroom. She suddenly felt very ashamed of herself. She had just paid for sex. And regardless of how good it was, tears still sprung to her eyes. She jammed the palms of her hands into her eyes, in an attempt to stop the tears. It didn't work. She was still visibly upset when Steve emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, looking like a million bucks.

“Amanda?” he questioned. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

She shook her head, trying to dismiss her feelings. But Steve wouldn't let up. He continued to pester her until she finally told him that she was ashamed that she enjoyed their coupling.

“Normally, a man of your calibre would never look at a girl like me,” she told him, sniffing, refusing to look him in the eye.

“How do you know that?” he asked, running his hand along her jaw in a tender and loving manner.

“Just look at you. You're a handsome, gorgeous man. And I'm”

Steve grabbed her hand, forcefully pulling her out of the bed. He dragged her into the bathroom and flipped on the light, forcing her to stand in front of him.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered. “Amanda, look at how beautiful you are.”

Amanda stared at herself. She didn't see beautiful. She saw frumpy. Her hair was a mess, her body was flushed, her breasts full, nipples erect. 

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Steve asked. She shook her head. “I see a gorgeous woman with intoxicating eyes, a stunning body, luscious breasts, and scrumptious lips that I enjoyed kissing very much.”

She glanced up at him. “Really?” she asked.

Steve nodded. “Don't presume that I wouldn't look at you if I saw you in the street. Amanda, I would be looking. Possibly leering.”

Amanda smiled.

Steve lent down and kissed her deeply, his tongue probing the depths of her mouth. When they parted, Amanda was still smiling. “You're either a very good liar or you're the first genuine man I've ever met,” she told him.

Steve smiled, running his hand through her hair. “I tell it how I see it,” he said, kissing her cheek.

He turned to exit the bathroom. 



“If you ever get lonely, here's my card. Call me any time and I'll come right over.”

With a shaking hand, Amanda took his business card. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Steve grinned before exiting the bathroom and the hotel suite leaving behind only the scent of his cologne and Amanda's desire to see him again.