Flash Fiction Friday: 4/30/10 Lust Haze

He was on his way home, the glow to the west showing the ongoing explosion of Mt. McMurty. It was far and away, but the orange glow in the sky was a beacon that had led him homeward these last few miles. He’d been gone for so long.

Would she be waiting for him?

How he needed her. Her softness, her needy pussy, her rounded tits, and her gorgeous ass.

As he crested the rise to his condo complex, a dazzling sight met him.

She waited.

HNT 4/29/10

Tapping on the keyboard,  fever creeping from the brain to the fingers. It’s so hawt, so hawt…wait…what if she?

or what if He?

and then what if they?

Throbbing, teasing, rising, falling…hands, cocks, tits, leaking, seeping, needy.

And another story, fini!

And since we’re talking reality here….

 Here are some truly bizzaro searchs that brought people to Vanillamom last week. Occasionally one must just share the sillyness, okay. My responses are in bold because that is just the kind of girl that nilla is of late.

one of the best tit-slapping ever  Why thank you very much! Ever? Wow.

will deleting my wordpress blog hurt my I would so love to know what they thought would hurt after deleting their blog. and i’ll bet it won’t hurt like my ass will if i come off  Sirs’ Wall….  
buttplug blog  WHAT??? are YOU kidding me? since when did this become buttplug blog???? I’ve never even worn a buttplug. Yet. (covers ass with hand)  
suspended by tits in kitchen  Now that’s how you get YOUR  subbie to make your omlette just the way you like it, Sirs and Dom’s!  


tit slapping   What, you think this is a D/s takeout or something? Yeah, um, i’d like a buttplug and a side of titslapping *giggle* I’m so going to *that* restaraunt!  
cum swapping man woman This one shows up almost every week. Bookmark the Site, man, bookmark. V-a-n-i-l-l-a-m-o-m-!!! Easy Peasy!  
hanging tit slap because of my febrile imagination, this may yet become a story feature….  
doll crime (sound of voice through cop mic) okay Barbie, we have you surrounded. come out of the mall with your hands up!  
pushed her down screamed pounded nipple I dunno about you readers, but Sir has yet to scream at my nipple. Pounded, yes, screamed? Just not a turn on. 

On a second “reality” note, i must add, after yesterday’s post, that Sir and i did manage to have some face-to-face time on Sunday. We met at the mall, and necked in His car like a couple of teens that haven’t seen each other in a month. And we didn’t. See each other for a month, i mean. It was only 40 minutes. It was too short and yet…..It was awesome. oh. did nilla say awesome? C’m on, girl, this is a sex-blog!! Deets, deets!

Okay, it was FUCKING AWESOME!!!! His mouth…dear goddess his mouth…it’s a weapon. I had to check my mouth before i left his car, because i was afraid he still had my tongue in his possession. *swoons*

He bit my ear. Hard. Swirled his tongue, oh that talented, torturous tongue, deep into my ear passage. Why, i wonder, is my ear connected to my cunt? A flood of pussy honey. (he checked, and laughed. Really, He laughed at how wet he made me. Then admonished me to not leak on his car seat. Bastard! Thank goddess i was wearing a slip!!)

He pinched my tit, oh, so hard. Mmmmmm, yeah (clears throat.) it, ahem, took me 6 minutes to write the rest of this sentence. Sorry, lost in reverie…

Later he ‘found’ my other tit, and  treated it like it’s sister. Maybe even a bit harder. It’s his “favorite” tit. Don’t ask. I don’t know why either.

And then there was my ass. Yeah. Well, da nilla has been walking since January. It’s been hit or miss, but at the barest minimum, once a week, and often more than that. Mild winter gave me a wee boost in the walking dept. Sir noticed. Been a month, and i’ve walked 4 days or more a week, plus yard work.

He pincered my asscheek between his fingers.

“What ho?!” He cried, in his best ‘pirate voice” ….”what have we here matey?”

Then he chuckled.

Yeah, that chuckle. Pleased, very pleased. And plotting, yes, plotting the demise of my ‘new’ more shapely ass. He was *verrah, verrah* pleased, and i even “earned” a few very hard smacks on my ass, just to ‘test’ it out.

He can hardly wait until the end of May. My ass is getting his full, undivided attention, He says.

whoo, boy!

how’s that for a reality check!

TMI Tues. A Comment to Comment Upon

“I dunno nilla. I think all these stories are a smokescreen for hiding the REAL stuff going on in your not-so-nilla life!! C’mon, where’s the DRAMA? Where’s the ANGST? The real stuff you hide from us! Inquiring minds want to know!!”

If you read my comment section after my stories, you may have read this last week. doubleknot, you pose an interesting question. er…challenge. I don’t often share my angst here…i think in part, because most of you come to read my sinfully dark fantasies… ?  But the real nilla?  Is this interesting? I think i’m a rather boring, mundane woman, really. Funny enough, several other bloggers have been dealing with this very same issue. To hide behind the anonymity of their stories, or to make their lives the story?

I guess i’m somewhere in-between. Sir and i have been a “couple” for just around 8 months. We’ve had two blissfully wonderful connections. If you’ve read some of my older stuff, you will find that many of Sir and my scenes are in some of those stories.  Trust me, for two older folks…we fuck like bunnies when we’re face-to-face. We never eat, rarely drink. It’s all sex, in some form or other,  the entire 7 or 8 hours we eke out. Maybe i should quantify that as D/s sex? bondage, inspection, teasing, and of course spanking are all a big part of our sex time. For both of us. (Hi, my name is nilla, and i am a spankaholic!)

We’ve had two “mini dates”. I drive down near him and we neck in his car. Not much else, as it’s usually midday. That’d be all we need, two old farts getting busted for showing skin at the Christmas Tree Shoppe parking lot!!!

The angst. Hrm. Well, you all heard me whine and suck it up nobly when I, yes, *I* broke our last meeting date. He’s in the midst of career change, involving,  many, many weeks of transitional stuff.  He’s been at this nonstop for 7 weeks. It’s been 4 weeks since that day when I called him, and suggested we not have a playdate, that we just let him get this other stuff behind him, first.

Yeah. I cried and cried and cried. Like a big ole baby. For days. I cried when i woke up in the middle of the night. I cried when i got up in the morning. I cried when i went to bed at night….but only after i got to talk to him on the phone. Then i made my pillow all wet.

Angst. Well….sometimes I still gots it. Sometimes, i still cry.

Last week i had some free time. A small window where the home would be empty of Wifey and childrens.  I invited Sir to come here. To my home. For the first time. Maybe for a bit of play. A wee bit. My mouth, his cock. My ass, his hand. You know the drill.

You all know i’m  wiccan, yes?  Saturday night i was in my room. Getting ready for bed. Nekkid, under my blue and white sparkly lites. Thinking about my beloved Sir being there. In my wee nilla room!  Thinking about His face, upon seeing where his nilla lays and thinks of him when she masturbates, moaning to the sky. I was gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered.

Whammo!  My “psychic” side woke for a moment.  And suddenly…. I *knew*.

He was thinking of me. With regret.  With sadness. And direction of purpose. I felt it. Right *here* like a fist in my heart.

No, I was not having a heart attack.  He didn’t text, didn’t call. But i texted him. Told him I knew. That my witchy sense had known that he would not be able to come.

He was sorry. He went to work on  that Sunday, and spent 9 hours doing his work stuff.  He thought of me. Texted me when he needed a wee respite.

My job is to support and bolster Him. Not knock him down because….well, because….”it is what it is” !    Real life stuff. Job. Income. Reputation. D/s is all secondary to that.

And i cried. Told him i cried for him that night.

“That’s okay,” he wrote. “This will make you a stronger sub, little girl.”

how can i be angsty after that? and He is so right. I am stronger.  I’m not a burden on his mind, but a supporter, cheerleader, and someone to make silly jokes to make him laugh. He doesnt’ do it often, but nilla can tease a good old belly laugh from Him once in a while. We snort and guffaw, until, breathlessly, tenderly, we whisper our goodnights, and hang up.

Some things are almost as good as sex.

In another 2 weeks, Sir will have his “green light” and will be secure in his new career. It will be another three weeks after that before nilla has freedom in the schedule to have a play date. Angst? Maybe. I’m learning to live with the snippets of  Him that  i do get.

People who don’t live the D/s 24-7 …you are the ones who get this. The upswelling of need that presages a meet. The anticipation, the adreneline rush, the preparations to be just “perfect” for Him.

Deflate that with real life and you have one godddamn anguished subbie.

Then you pull up your big girl panties, and deal. (i should add that nilla does not wear panties, for the sake of pure honesty, mind you!) 

When Sir and i finally do meet at the end of May, trust me….the sun will dim, the stars will sing, thunder and lighting will roll….and we’ll be putting the earth back on its proper axis once again!

I don’t revel and cling to the hurt, but it sure as hell helps me feel owned. They are bruises on the spirit, not visible to the naked eye. He makes me want to be a better woman. A better subbie. I draw strength from Him, even as I give him everything that *i* am. . .    He demands my obedience, but accepts my free-spirited ways.

He tames me. Calms me. Beats the crap outta my ass. Fucks me senseless. Gives me a bazillion orgasms. And then tenderly cradles my head as he gives me water when  i’m tied to the bed.

So i can give  Him more.

It’s what i try to do. Every day.

Give him a little bit more of me.

Every day.

Perspective: The Good, The Bad, The Beautiful part 3(fini)


Caleb spoke into her hair, his hands gentle on her shoulders.

“While I want your husband to see what he has thrown away, I don’t necessarily want to hear him complaining about it.” He went to a closet, opened the mahogany door, pulled down a dark oak box. Lifting off the lid, he dug around for a minute, then pulled free his selection. She had never really seen a ball gag up close before, and she went closer to look at it. Seeing the size of the ball made her throw a smirking smile at Russell. Fucking bastard! Let him suffer!

After a brief tussle, the ball gag was indeed buried in Russell’s mouth, and tightened securely. Despite grunting and yelling, very little noise actually escaped the room. Caleb walked to his desk and took up a remote. With a click, the room was surrounded in waves of music, something new age with the sound of the sea in the background. 

Walking back to the bed, he watched in amusement as Shiloh pulled items from the box, examining them and putting them back. He laughed aloud as he watched her puzzling over a set of anal beads.

“What?” she turned and looked at him.

He mimed pushing up and puckered his face. She blushed all of a sudden as awareness dawned and she hurriedly dropped the string into the box. He laughed and hugged her hard.

“Later, sweeting, that will be much later.”

He turned her so that he could release her zipper. The dress fell with a soft whisper of sound, audible in the brief silence between songs. She stood a moment, a beautiful statue, clad in silk stockings and stiletto heels. Her husband moaned, that sound carrying to Caleb. A different sort of music to his ears, one that he hoped added to her enjoyment.

Reaching around from behind her, his hands began playing with her glorious tits. Cupping each soft mound in a hand, he squeezed, released, squeezed  and released. His thumb and forefingers found the swelling tips and began to tug at them, and twirling them firmly finally eliciting a moan from her. Her head fell back against him, exposing the line of her throat to his hungry teeth. He took advantage of her bounty and nipped a line down her neck, biting hard where the shoulder slope began. As he bit her, his fingers painfully squeezed her nipples making her squirm at the three points of pain. She backed closer against him, her silk-covered ass pressing hard against his groin, and felt his very hard cock pushing back.

“Please…” she moaned, but she couldn’t exactly say for what.

“First rule, sweeting. I start and stop at my own whim. You will receive pleasures from me, but at my discretion.  It will often hurt. But I promise to make it hurt, oh so good.”

She absorbed this. He ruled here. He ruled her. Russell, sitting in the chair across the room, was forgotten. All that existed just now was Him. Caleb. His hands hurting her tits, his teeth had gone back to biting her neck. She knew she’d be bruised.

Damn it felt good.

Finally he released her. She felt him kneel behind her, and blushed to imagine…and squeeled aloud when she felt him pulling down her stockings, then parting her cheeks.

“Bend over and touch your toes, little slut.” The order, gently but firmly delivered, embarrassed her. To be called a slut…? She bent and touched her toes, knowing that he would be getting an eyeful of her ass.

His fingers slid down her crack, and poked firmly against  her back entrance. She moaned, low in her throat. A cross between excitement at the forbidden, and fear. She and Russ had never had anal sex. He’d never been into it. She’d never done it before, although the boyfriend she’d had before Russell had tried to get her to submit to it.

Caleb’s fingers slid further up her slit and slipped across her cunt. It was wet. Bent like this, she could hear the sound as his fingers dipped briefly in her warm crevasse, and then she shuddered as those inquisitive fingers twirled around her clitoris.

“Feels good, yes, slut?”

“yessss,” she breathed.

“Yes, Sir,” he admonished.

“Yes, Sir,” she amended.

“Have you ever been fucked in your beautiful ass?”

She shook her head.  A sharp slap across her ass had her yelp and taking a short hopping step away from the sudden pain. “Ow!”

He pulled her hips back into position.

“Speak with me, slut, do not merely nod your head. You are not a horse or a cow or a trained dog. Use your delightful voice to answer me in the future, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.I..i understand. No, Sir, i…no…no one has ever…ever…You know…”

“Fucked your ass?”

“Correct, Sir.”

“say it, slut.”

She locked her lips. It was so…dirty. So decadent…another slap interrupted her small defiance.

“NO ONE HAS FUCKED MY ASS SIR!” she shouted.

He laughed.

“Good girl. We’ll take care of that item, then, won’t we?” and he laughed again at her moan.


Russell could not believe it. His slut of a wife was being inspected by his boss and she was loving it, the fucking cunt! He pulled at his cuffs, yelled behind his gag. When he’d signed the paper Caleb had given him at dinner, asking him to ‘give’ him Shiloh for the weekend, he’d agreed. It was that, or jail. And frankly, he’d expected Shiloh to throw up a hue and cry and refuse the fucking bastard.

Here she was, bent in half while that fucker stuck his fingers up her pussy. The wet sound, the pungent scent of her overheated sex came to him. His cock was killing him, throbbing in his pants, and he knew he’d wind up blowing in them like an untried teen. Fuck them. Fuck them both.


Shiloh was tightly bound to the bed. Her eyes blindfolded, wrists and ankles secured to the antique four-poster, she felt…everything…so intensely. What would happen next, was unclear. She was powerless, and yet. The feelings that Caleb had already brought up in her were unexpected, overwhelming. How hard she had cum when he delivered a measured spanking. How hot and wet she had been when she knelt before him and he fucked her face. He called it her “face pussy”. Thank god she’d had years to practice deep-throating Russell. Caleb’s cock was longer and a bit thicker than Russ’s but she was able to take him deep, and she knew he was pleased with her.

Why and when it had become important to please Caleb she was unclear. She just knew that he gave her stability in the whirling chaos that her life had suddenly, unexpectedly become.

She felt a faint tingle in her left arm. What? A thin line of sensation trailed up her arm from her elbow to her armpit. She felt it, barely, tracing a path around her armpit, then…she giggled, writhing, as the tickling became more intense in her pit, then down her torso to tease her waist. It slipped back up and tickled her nipple, her throat; then stopped. A moment passed, another, before she felt the tickle begin anew at her feet. She twitched, she moaned, she laughed, she strained at her bonds, and still he tickled her.

“OH GAWD….PULEEEEZZZZEEEE……” she yelled, arching her back.

A slap on her pussy was a change of sensation, and several more slaps brought her to another orgasm. Gasping for breath, she moaned his name..


His body slipped up and over hers, covering her completely. She felt the hair on his chest sliding across her belly, teasing her tits and nipples with a different sort of tickle. The heat from him was incredible, and as his cock slid into her, locking them together, she wished she had hands free to grab at him, hold him tight to her.


He fucked her passionately. Deeply. He felt the heat from the welts on her torso, the swollen nipples pressing hard against his chest. Her breath was labored, exciting him, and her cunt was clamping down on his dick as she clenched through another orgasm. Her head tossed from side to side, and he removed the blindfold to look into her eyes. His  hands locked on each side of her head as he began to feast from her mouth. Tongues dancing, teeth nipping, they kissed as he continued to slide in and out of her.

As he neared his release, he grabbed her tits, squeezing them hard, leveraging himself with them as he increased his thrusts, now slamming deeply into her. She rose to meet each thrust as much as she was able. The sounds from the bed rivaled the music that swelled around them, a vast crescendo, as the slapping  of flesh on flesh, the moaning from her, and his grunts all combined to make a new kind of music. As he poured forth into her waiting cunt, his triumphant roar overrode all other sounds. They collapsed together, spent, glistening with sweat and commingled fluids.


Russell fell back into the chair. His eyes had not left them as he watched his boss fuck his wife. The entire time,  he had watched her, spread-eagled on the bed, submitting to…no, embracing Caleb’s lust. Now he closed his eyes, suddenly feeling lost, bereft. He felt  his breath hitching, the wet spot on the front of his trousers expanding. It was done. He  was done.

He opened his eyes as he felt a presence. Caleb stood before him, his cock gleaming wetly. Already it was half erect. He watched as Caleb  grasped his cock, and skimmed some of the wetness off of it. He wiped his hand on Russell’s face.

“That’s the last you will see, smell or taste of your wife. Tomorrow we will file for a no-contest divorce. You will not impede the process in any way. I hope you remember the contract you signed downstairs. As you know, you still have a job with me. In the mail room. If you do not show up for work, a bounty hunter will find you, beat the ever-loving snot out of you, and then take you to work, where you will be cuffed to your workstation. Oh, Russell, how I hope you will defy me, so that I can call that man. There’s nothing I’d like better than to see you beaten. Then again, that’s really what I am looking at now, aren’t I? A beaten man. Check, and mate. ”

Caleb went to the bedroom door, called for the guard. Unashamed of his nudity, uncaring even, he gestured for Russell to be released from the chair, and taken back downstairs to begin his new life as Caleb’s slave.


She woke when the dawning light illuminated the silken nest around her. She was curled, spooned, with strong, warm arms around her body, cupping her bosom. Even as she stirred, she felt his deft fingers begin to dance across a nipple, bringing it to life.

“mmmmmm” she responded, rubbing her head against his chest.

It was going to be a beautiful day.


Thank you, dear readers for indulging me over the last 6 days!  i’ve wanted to try my hand a writing in ‘perspective’ for awhile, and this story just would not stop drumming in my head. This was written over the course of one afternoon, and the next morning. The intensity of the Muse for this story was…unparallelled for me!   It was there when i started falling asleep, and still there when i awoke!  It was , apparently, just desperate  to be ‘born’!

!  I promise, for those of you following the tale of The Farm, and Perchance, those stories will be coming to their conclusions shortly…and on we go!  


Perspective: The Good, The Bad, The Beautiful part 2

Shiloh stood in the corner of the elevator. Ricardo, the waiter from the restaurant many floors below, was obviously more than a mere ‘waiter’. Obviously Mr. Mabon employed him for many other tasks. He was a silent, steady buffer between her and her husband on the ride up, and he had held her back as Russell stormed off when the doors opened, leaving her behind.

He did not return for her. After a few minutes, she turned to Ricardo.

“Should I…”

He laid a comforting hand on her wrist.

“It will be alright, cara, Mr. Mabon will send someone to collect you when he is ready.”

She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She was really surprised that she was still standing. How had Russell fooled her for all these years? Stealing?? They did not lead an extravagant lifestyle, and her work at the gallery… here she paused, gulped down the hurt from Russells’ cruel remarks about her work.  What a bastard! But to steal from the guy who gave you your first big break? The boss who was helping him to climb that ladder to the top? Mr. Mabon had always been encouraging to Russell. On the few occasions that she had met him, he was always gracious, always kind to her. And he touted Russell from power mover to power shaker. She’d seen him do it again and again. And Russ would throw that all away for what? A few extra grand a year? She shook her head.

A guard came to the open elevator doors.

“Mr. Mabon is ready for you, miss,” he spoke kindly to her, recognizing shock in her pale face and wide eyes.  He took  her limp hand, pulled it through the crook of his elbow and escorted her into the apartment.


The bedroom was the embodiment of a fairy tale. Dark wood, pale silk walls contrasted each other. A deep rich carpet was plush underfoot, a waterfall of silk tulle cascading from a central hub and gliding down the sides of the bed. When closed, the tulle would encase the occupants in a tent of silken hues, shutting out the world beyond.

The wide windows would show the sunrise over the Atlantic not so far away.  The far wall was nearly all window, and she watched the twinkling lights as an airplane banked and headed for a runway at Logan International Airport. The moon was a silent witness to what would happen here. Her reflection was captured, pale, frightened. Behind her, to her left, sat her husband, handcuffed to a chair. Her heart beat faster.

She watched as Mr. Mabon’s reflection came closer to hers. Until she could feel the warmth of him through her back, feel his breath stirring her hair. She noted he was much taller that she really had noticed, before, a full head taller than her own 5′ 8″, even considering her stiletto’s. She watched his hand come around to cup her waist, at the same moment that she felt it. His hand came over hers, wrapped protectively around her. She felt the strength in him. Shielding her. She knew.

“He gave me to you.” She spoke flatly.

“Yes.” He spoke matter-of-factly. She needed honesty, brutal as it was.

“I could have put him in jail. Ended his career. And things happen, sweetling, in prison.”

She choked back a sob.

His arms came around her.  Held her tightly. She watched in the glass as his cheek rested on her head. His silver hair a bright contrast to the deep night outside the glass.  In the reflections before them, their eyes met. His were serious, and dark, hers light colored and shimmering with tears.

“I am very demanding sexually. I may hurt you, but it will be to our eventual, mutual satisfaction. I promise you, Shiloh, you will not leave my bed unhappy.”

She turned in his arms. Stood face to face, nearly nose to nose with him.

“But why?! Surely we can repay you? How much? How much has he taken? A few thousand…”

He interrupted her with a droll laugh.

“oh, you sweetly innocent baby. Seventy-five thousand dollars. And that’s only what I’ve found this year. He’s very clever, your husband. Very greedy, but also ingenious at hiding the losses. If he had stopped, it may have taken me quite some time to find where I was bleeding from. I knew someone was doing it, but I didn’t come to suspect Russell until recently. But the greedy always want more. ”

She looked at Russell. Pulling away from Caleb, she crossed to him, and slapped him hard across his face.

“You. Fucking. Stupid. Fucking. Asshole. Bastard.” Each word, punctuated by a slap. Turning away, head high, she went back to Caleb. She looked at his face. Turning her back to him, staring at her husband, she spoke.

“Unzip me, Caleb.”

Perspective: The Good, The Bad, The Beautiful part 1.

Very little was said during the delicious meal at the exclusive restaurant. Several times she had turned to him, only to look away, and sniff back tears. She was stunned. Speechless, and not able to taste a morsel of the delightful food placed before her. She ate because she had been instructed to do so. She suspected her husband was tasting as much as she was.

As she raised the moss-green napkin to wipe her lips, she saw a waiter approaching with a note. He brought it to her.

   “Please follow Ricardo. Both of you. NOW.”

She looked at Russell.

“This is from Him. He wants us to follow Ricardo. Now.”

“Fuck him!”  Responded her husband, tossing down his napkin. “”Let’s just blow this fucktard place.”

“No.”  She spoke quietly, but firmly. “You did this to us. You fucked up. You signed your name…”

“Under duress, it won’t stand up in court…”

“You signed your name, ” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, “to an agreement of some sorts. Now you need to keep that agreement, Russell. I …I don’t think I know you at all! What? Why? I…”  she shook her head, words failing her.

“Don’t play all Lady Grace, with me, Shiloh. You’ve certainly benefited from my job. Time to play fancy gallery lady, ”

She stared at him, stunned by the hurt that slammed into her.  “Y-you…”

Ricardo interrupted.

“Sir, you are instructed to come with me now, or that man over there will be calling the police to report a crime.” He pointed to the security booth, where a discreetly uniformed officer had his hand on a phone, wagging it in the air mockingly.

“Fucking pigs,” Russell grated out, as he grabbed his wife’s arm and began pulling her along.

“Let. Me. Go. You. Jerk.”  She pulled her arm free, then stepped ahead of him. When Russ made a move to grab at her again, Ricardo deftly took her elbow, guiding her to a nearly invisible elevator door. They entered, and he pushed the button for P.

The elevator rose smoothly and swiftly. Too angry and hurt for tears, Shiloh stayed in the corner, Ricardo acting as her de facto guard. Russell stood, facing the doors, bristling.

They came to a gentle stop, then the doors opened to a beautiful foyer. Russ stormed out.  Ricardo held Shiloh back.

“Wait a moment, cara, ” he murmured, his voice soothing.

Another uniformed guard waited at the double doors that were closed.

“Russell Vendinger?” he inquired, although it was obviously a formality.

“What the fuck do you want?” Russ all but growled at the man.

“Please, sir, follow me.” He opened the door, and Russell began to go through, only realizing at the last moment that his wife had not followed him from the elevator. He turned as  if to go back for her, but the cop insisted he move forward.

The doors closed with a precise *snick*.  As he followed the rental cop through the apartment, he took a moment to sneer at the genteel opulence that confronted him.

“Fucking prick. Like he doesn’t have it to spare anyway, ”  he thought to himself. His boss greeted him curtly at the entrance to yet another room. He was gestured inside. It was a bedroom. Russell swallowed, hard. The fucker had meant it.

“Sit.”  The word was spat out at Russell, and he found himself obeying. The security guard placed a handcuff around Russ’s left wrist, then quickly around the arm of the chair.

“What the fuck?!” Russ tried to stand up but the chair was very heavy, and his arm was securely cuffed to it.

“A slight modification to that chair, Russell, that you will be interested in? It is bolted to the floor and will not move. Neither will you. I said ‘sit’ and I meant sit the fuck down. Or I can have my assistant here bring you down to Charles Street Police Station, and  turn you in for fraud, theft, embezzlement…oh an entire menu of nasty charges.” Quirking one eyebrow at him, he smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Russell sank back down into the chair. As soon as he was sitting, his other wrist was cuffed .

“You really mean to do this? You would do this to my wife?”

“Your wife will be treated with more respect from me than she’s gotten from you in quite some time. You profess to love her, and offered her your fidelity when you married, and yet you continue to entertain a variety of mistresses. ” He held up the second file. Opened it to show a series of photo’s of Russell with different women, several while engaged in sex.

Russell paled. “You…you’re not showing that file to Shiloh…?”

“I would spare your wife undue hurt, but if the occasion warrants, then yes, I will indeed make this available to her.” He laid the file on the nightstand, then turned towards the guard.

“Have Ricardo bring the lovely Shiloh to me.”

Perspective: Caleb

“The fucking bastard!” Caleb erupted, rising from his desk in a fury. He stormed around his office, his stomping muted by the deep ruby carpeting.  A punch-ball in the corner took a few solid hits, bouncing back for more abuse with a metallic “fwanggggg”  with each angry blow.

Caleb hit the ball several more times, shouting “FUCKER” with every shot. Finally, knuckles throbbing softly, he left off, to storm around the room again. He ignored the view out over the city, the ocean glinting dully off to the east,  the hubbub of traffic below.

The fucking punk. He’d taken him in from grad school, the little fucker, and brought him along. He’d seen so much potential. So much of himself in the little fucking weasel. A hard-knock kid, putting himself through school, working hard to make it big in the world.

“Hell ya, ” thought Caleb, “Russell Vendinger certainly was making big time…” but not legally. Not legit. Not the hard way, the way he, himself had. Scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, taking every dirty filthy fucking asshat job he could manage, working his way up and up and up. Now he owned this company, and several smaller ones as well. And interest in several other ventures too.

He sat. Turned to contemplate the beauty of Boston, the old and historic, the new and sleek. Fanuel Hall’s domed tower shining in the setting sun far below his high-rise tower. The Pru, with its beacon blue light presaging a nice day tomorrow,  and Hancock Tower, glinting in the early evening light.  Over in the Fens, the home team was gearing up for another go at their arch rivals. The Sox and the Yankee’s. A tale of epic struggles, the underdog Sox and the power of the Evil Empire, locked in mortal combat all season long.

He watched the orb of the moon begin to rise from the Atlantic, and as it did, a plan began to take shape. By midnight, plans at the ready, he set off for home, secure that he would not only even the score, but come out ahead.

***********                             ****************

He sat at the restaurant, a spider with his web securely in place. He watched them approach the table. He, tall, dark and handsome. Such a cliché. She, lithe, graceful, stunning and sexy. Caleb wasn’t certain what Shiloh did, but,  he had a feeling he knew what she would be doing soon enough.

He admired her cleavage, swelling up from the little black dress she wore so well. He kissed her fingers, then sat her at the round table, as her husband, the rotten fuckhead, sat himself. As he had planned, they sat far enough apart that they could not touch,  merely look at each other. Russell’s seat backed towards a corner, so bolting would be less of a risk, but just in case, Caleb had alerted the discreet security man to watch for Russ and be certain he was caught if he did run.

When he served the papers to Russell, he could not have been more pleased to see him turn ashen and fearful. He regretted hurting the wife, but then again, it could not be helped. She needed to know what sort of man her husband really was. And frankly, she was wasted on a putz like Russell.

He smiled, a smooth, dangerous smile as Russell dropped the paper to the table.

“Forgive me” he said softly to his wife, then turned to Caleb to say “Yes.”

Caleb reached for the paper Russell had been reading, and withdrawing a pen from his inner pocket, handed both back to Russ.

“Sign. For now, your signature is valid. This is the last document you will sign for me that has any value, any meaning at all.” He watched, steely eyed as Russell signed the document with an angry flourish. Folding the document, he placed it into his pocket with the pen.

“Enjoy your meal,” he said to them as he rose, ignoring the glare Russell threw at him, and Shiloh’s soft crying.

Turning, he gestured for the waiter to begin serving the couple.

“I’ll be back,” he said to the stunned couple, “when your meal is done. I advise you to eat well. It could be your last decent meal for a while.”

And he strode away.


It was hard to take in all the surroundings and not gawk. Russell had taken her to some swanky places before, but this certainly outshone them all. The ambience was of such peace and tranquility,  and overlaid with the smell of wealth and privilege.

His hand rested comfortably on her lower back, his fingers lightly flexing along the curve of  her ass, teasing and warm. She was so hot for him. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling into his handsome face. His dark hair was combed back, gleaming in the muted light of the restaurant. His full lips smiled just a bit at her in response, as if to say, “I know what I’m doing to you, lover,”. She pushed back against his hand, a little movement, barely visible to anyone else who happened to be watching.

She would be glad when this dinner with his boss would be done and they could tumble into bed with each other. She was feeling exceptionally horny today, and dressing up like this, her highest heels, the slinky hose, the perfect hair and makeup and perfume to tantalize him, all combined to add to her lust.

She smiled politely when Russells boss, Caleb Mabon, rose from the corner table where the hostess led them. It was quiet, tucked away from the main flow of  the restaurant. He took her hand, a gentleman, and raised it to his lips. They had met before, several times, in fact, over the course of the five years her husband had been working for him. He complimented her on her beauty, looking perhaps a moment longer than was seemly at her cleavage. Then again, she had chosen this provocative dress, so it went with the territory. He seated her first, then gestured to her husband to sit to her right, where the walls formed a small ell, adding to the feeling of being secluded. Once they were seated, Mr. Mabon took the seat to her left. The round table was not over-large, but put just a bit of distance between them all. The linen tablecloth was snowy, the napkins a  deep mossy green. The flatware gleamed in  soft, golden tones under the glow of the candles flanking a round bowl of white and pink peonies.

The champagne arrived just as Mr. Mabon was seated.

“I took the liberty of selecting a wine to…” he paused, looking at Russell, then Shiloh in turn,  ” ….to celebrate tonight’s occasion.”  Shiloh and Russ shared a glance, a small smile playing on his mouth. The promotion to partner. At last! The waiter circled the table, filling each glass to perfection.

“A toast,” added Caleb, raising his flute, “To successful endeavors.”

They murmured after Mr. Mabon, “endeavors” and the three drank. She was surprised that champagne could taste so wonderfully different from what she was used to. If this promotion went through, then perhaps they would accept champagne like this as a matter of course as well!

“I also took the liberty of placing our dinner orders. You see, I own an interest in this restaurant, and know well it’s specialties. I hope you will indulge me.”

Russell and Shiloh shared another glance. They were far enough apart at this round table that they could not touch. It was strange, granted, but who could fault the guy if it was partly his place?

She spoke before her husband could. “That’s fine Mr. Mabon. We are happy to be here. Thank you, too, for allowing me to attend this dinner. I’m so proud of my husband, his accomplishments!”

She turned sparkling eyes to Russ, missing the narrowing gaze of his boss.

“Do you?” his voice was silky, just a bit cooler.

“Well, ” she responded, flustered a bit by the sudden change in his attitude. “He works long hours for you, I rarely see him and…” she trickled into silence at the look on Caleb’s face.

“You mean he is very busy, stealing from me?”

She gasped, and Russell, paling, began to sputter.

He cut them both off with a look. His eyes bored into Russell’s, daring him to deny again. He turned to Shiloh.

“I will grant you the benefit of the doubt, little girl, as I believe your husband has fooled you as cleverly as he attempted to fool me. I have incontrovertible proof, arrestable, convictable proof that your husband has been stealing from me for several years.”  He lifted a folder from his lap, dropped it on the table in front of Russell. A second folder lay secreted in the briefcase beside his chair, but it was not time for that one quite yet.

She sat and watched as Russ turned pages, growing paler and paler. The very last page he held in his hand and read it, twice.

“Russell?” her voice broke, shaking. “Russ, did you do this…this …” ? A tear escaped and slid slowly down her cheek.

Caleb scooped it up with a blunt finger.

“Of course he did, little girl. Now all that remains to be seen is what he will do about it.”

Russell looked at the paper in his hand, shaking gently in his fear.  Laying it back on the table, he looked at his vibrant, beautiful wife.

“Forgive me, ” he whispered.

He turned to his boss.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but her heart began to race, even as Russell spoke one single word.