Archive for December, 2013


December 26, 2013 Leave a comment


I loved my new apartment from the first moment I saw it.  In fact, I loved my new life that began with this new apartment.  It wasn’t that it was a big, new, fancy apartment… it was a small, old, cosy apartment, and one of the most cosy things about it was that it was mine, and mine alone.  After three years sharing life and home with Larry Morrow, of which the only decent part was the first half-year, I was renewed and invigorated by his absence from my life.  I just turned twenty-nine, and it felt good to put my name tag on my mailbox downstairs.  Virginia Madison looked so good to me.  Larry had always insisted on calling me Ginger, even though I often told him how much I hated it.  Now I’m Virginia, and that’s it!

 When I picked up two new clients, it provided me with the income to get a place of my own.  I’m a freelance typist, and I’ve been making a decent living transcribing material for a couple of lawyers when they audio-record their clients’ depositions.  It’s boring work, but it’s fairly steady and it pays pretty well, but not well enough for me to get my own place.  When one of the lawyers sent me Mrs. Clarkson, it was a big help.  She’s writing her memoirs with a dictating machine, and I’m transcribing it for her.  She’ll pay better than the lawyers do, and the work might not be nearly so boring.  Usually, I don’t even really read the stuff I type for the lawyers ‘cause it’s rarely interesting… except when it’s a divorce case and I see what the plaintiffs are blaming on their spouses.

 Mrs. Clarkson’s stuff is probably going to be interesting.  The lawyer who referred her to me said she was hot stuff when she was young, and if it’s true, it might be interesting to read her memoirs.  She was a sixties party girl, I guess.  It’s a ‘tell all’ book I’m told, and it’s going to be quite something to hear her sixty-seven-year-old voice coming from the machine, describing in graphic detail some of her sexual exploits.  She’s a wealthy dowager now because of the fortunes each of her three husbands left her. I’ll bet each of them died with great big smiles on their faces.

 The thing that most convinced me to choose this apartment was the courtyard.  It has a real courtyard, with an arched entrance that a small car could pass through.  When this place was built, cars were rare, and horse-carriages were narrow old things, but now the entrance is closed off with a beautiful wrought-iron fence and an elegant gate that only we tenants can open.  I can go through the main entrance if I choose, but I prefer to go through the courtyard and up the outside steps to my third floor paradise.  There’s a small garden in the courtyard, with a little fountain that keeps the flowers fresh, and a bench nearby.  It’s like a private mini park. 

 The steps go past the apartment below mine on the second floor landing, and continue on up to my landing on the third floor.  I’m glad I’m on the top floor, because it means nobody will be climbing the stairs past my kitchen window.  On nights when it’s too hot and humid to sleep, I sit out on the landing and listen to the night sounds from the city beyond my courtyard.  Three other apartments face on the courtyard.  To the right of me is a little old woman that I see from time to time hanging some things to dry on her railing.  I spoke to her only once when I went to my mailbox and she was there at hers.  I’d often seen the name on her box, and I said “Good morning Ms. Rossita.”

           “I am not Rossita,” she barked with a scowl.  She slammed her box closed and said, “She was here before me, years ago,” and shuffled away.  I’ve never bothered to speak to her again.

 On my left there is a gay couple.  They are quiet and courteous, and their landing has a lot of potted plants on it, most of which are marijuana, some are geraniums, and one is a tomato plant.  Donald seems to work at home on a computer, and Ivan goes out in work clothes, like a trucker.  Directly across from me there’s a couple sharing the apartment.  I can’t understand why they’re together.  He’s a nice looking man in his mid-forties, with thick hair greying at the temples.  She’s about my age, a bit heavy, with very big tits and very bad taste in clothes.  According to their mailbox tag, he’s James Gordon and she’s Rhoda Blum.  I’ve never seen her go out to work, or even do much around the apartment.  He goes out early every morning in a suit and carries a cheap briefcase.  I think he must be a low-level white-collar worker, and she just lazes around the apartment smoking and drinking beer.

 That first summer passed quickly into autumn and my life was filled with work.  I was happy to be busy and earning some good money.  It wasn’t all work, of course.  I still meet Shirley at least twice a week: once a week for lunch and once a week for an evening at a club or a quiet bar.  We just relax together and catch each other up on what’s happening in life.

 One September evening I returned home just as it got dark.  It was a mild night for September, and I sat out on my landing to enjoy it.  I can’t see into the apartments to the right and left of me, ‘cause they’re at right angles to mine.  The old woman never shows a light anyway, but I can see the glow from the windows of the boys on the left on their landing, but I can’t see into their place.  It’s different when I look across the courtyard.  Their curtains are always open, and the woman – Rhoda, I guess is her name – must be afraid of the dark or something, because she keeps lights all the lights on all the time.  On this particular evening, the man – James – was not yet home.

 While I watched, Rhoda went to the door to her apartment.  I supposed James had come home through the front entrance rather than mounting to the landing from the courtyard.  Rhonda opened the door, and I was surprised to see a tall black man smiling at the door.  I was even more surprised when Rhoda threw her arms around his neck and kissed him while he groped her ass with his big hands.  They broke apart and Rhoda closed the door behind him.  I watched fascinated as Rhoda immediately knelt in front of the guy, right there at the front door, and reached up to pull his zipper down.  No way was I going to stop watching at this point.

Categories: Uncategorized

A Time To Fly (10)

December 26, 2013 Leave a comment

“What’s this?  Is this how we’re traveling?” she said.  He gestured to the small back seat.  “But I’m wearing a dress!  And I’m forty.”  Vince took Belinda gently by the shoulders, turned her back to the scooter, and pushed her gently onto the seat.  She sat sidesaddle and gathered her skirt around her legs and put her long purse-strap over her head to wear the purse on her hip, pouch-like. Vince slid onto the seat, started the small motor, and drove down the alley while a trail of blue exhaust smoke followed them along the cobblestones.

 Belinda slipped her arms around Vince’s waist and held onto him tightly. When her nose was almost touching his neck, she noticed his fragrance; it was masculine and subtle.  Almost immediately, she began to enjoy the free feeling, the wind in her hair, her skirt flowing back to reveal her long, wonderful legs that drew many hoots and whistles from the young men along the street.  The heat of Vince’s body when she pressed her breasts to his back caused a surge of excitement to course through her.  She tilted her head down and pressed her cheek to his shoulder and just clung to him, feeling his youth and his strength pass from his spirit to hers.  She decided she was going to follow her passions, no matter where they led.

        “Here we are,” Vince said as he drew to a stop in front of the small club.  It was at the end of a blind alley, half a level below the street.  A small neon sign glowed red that reflected on the walls around the narrow alley.  ‘Club Marcello’ it said.  Belinda stopped on the sidewalk to look down through the large front window.  The room was long and narrow.  Young couples occupied many tables and Belinda felt like she was about to be a damper on their evening, like a housemother keeping an eye on the young people.  While they stood there, a group of young people bustled down the shallow stairwell into the club, babbling happily.  “Shall we go in?” Vince said.

 They descended the few steps and entered the club.  The maitre d’ led them to a front table at the foot of the small stage and pulled out a chair for Belinda.  She sat facing the stage and Vince sat beside her.  A ripple of applause went through the room as three musicians entered the stage from the wings.  A young black woman in jeans and T-shirt sat at the electric piano, an older white man picked up the electric guitar and a young white man with a shaved head sat at the drum set.  Clusters of young people entered the club and were quickly shown to their seats.

        “It looks like we’re just in time for the first show,” Vince said.  “Please excuse me for a moment.” He took Belinda’s hand and kissed it gently, which prompted a ripple of applause through the room.  Belinda looked around the room and noticed that people were not staring, but merely looking, with expressions of mild appreciation.  Vincenzo Taglioni went toward a hallway with a washrooms sign on it.  Moments later, the maitre d’ stepped onto the stage and spoke into the microphone that stood on its stand at centre stage.  Belinda was surprised that he spoke English in his introduction.

        “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said.  “Welcome to Club Marcello.  We are pleased once again to present the fine vocal talents of Vincenzo Taglioni.”Belinda was stunned to see Vince walk out on stage as the small club exploded with applause, whistles, and shouts of appreciation.  She sat back, too shocked to think, and just let her eyes drink in his wonderful face with its bright smile.  His broad chest was exposed where he had opened most of the buttons on his white shirt after he left Belinda.  He stood tall and handsome, glowing like a knight in the bright spotlight, and looked down at Belinda who could do nothing but look back up at him.  The feelings of excitement and anticipation coursed through her.  She surprised herself by hoping she would be invited to spend the night with him.  The musicians began to play while Vincenzo stood in the light looking down into Belinda’s eyes.  Then he began to sing.

There comes a time in every life

A time when it’s time to fly.

There comes a lover to fly with

A lover to not pass by.

 Belinda could do little more than sit and look up at Vince while his golden voice caressed her ears with slow, mellow tones.  He looked into the dark around the room, and always his eyes would return to Belinda, seated at his feet.

 The willing heart is filled with love

The willing lover wins love.

Love gives lovers a time to fly

The time to fly should not pass by.


Vincenzo took the microphone from its stand and descended the few steps down from the stage.  He took Belinda’s hand while he sang to her, looking deeply into her eyes.  She pulled her eyes away and looked hastily around the room, uncomfortable as the centre of attention.  She imagined that everyone in the room was whispering indignantly about her age and her race, while in fact, every woman in the room envied her and every man envied Vincenzo Taglioni.


When life brings you a time to fly

Life brings you a reason why.

More than just a kiss and sigh

Warm love brings a time to fly.


Passion makes a time to fly…


Passion is the time to fly.


Vince signaled the band to continue playing.  He put the microphone down on Belinda’s table and pulled her to her feet.  He took her in his arms and they danced, pressed together, circling in the small space beside their table.  The band concluded the piece, and Vince stepped back to bow graciously to Belinda, who curtsied in return.  The room exploded with applause and cheers.  Vince turned Belinda to face the crowd and he gestured to her.  The cries of admiration increased, and Belinda bowed her head while Vince held her hand and bowed with her.

A Time To Fly (9) – 18+

December 25, 2013 Leave a comment

Writhing beneath her blankets, Belinda dreamed of Vincenzo Taglioni.  She felt herself in his arms, being held firmly and kissed all over by his eager young mouth.  She was on the beach with him again.  He was lying on a blanket on his stomach, taking the sun when he asked her to spread him with cream.  She took the tube and squirted a dollop onto her palm and spread in over his broad back, her small, dark hand slipping over the defined muscles.  She put another dollop in her palm and spread it over his tight buttocks.  She felt the solid curve of the muscle.  It felt wonderful on her palm, slick with cream, sliding over this gorgeous young man’s behind.  The thrill filled her, and she yielded to the temptation to lean down and kiss the roundness.

Vincenzo rolled over onto his back, and Belinda found herself facing his young manhood, reaching toward her as if trying to touch her.  She was about to reach for it when Giuseppi came out of the trees, walking naked toward them.  He sat on the blanket beside Vincenzo.  Now the young man and the mature lover sat naked before her, both their organs reaching eagerly for her.  As her mind grappled with what to do first, she came slowly awake.  She had been sleeping for six hours.  It was eight in the evening and Belinda slid out of bed and went to her shower.  She stood under the warm jet of water and recalled the shower experience at Giuseppi Guererra’s palatial home.

After she towelled herself dry and spread skin cream over her entire body, she fixed her hair, put on a touch of makeup, and went down to cross the alley to the sidewalk café.  As she approached in the faint light of the street lamps, she could see that many of the tables were occupied.  It was a warm, fragrant night, and perfect for sipping cappuccino in a sidewalk café.  She was scanning the tables, looking for a vacancy, when a man stood up at a table in the middle of the area and waved her to him.  As she approached, she saw that it was Vincenzo Taglioni and she walked quickly toward him.  His rich, warm voice welcomed her, and his white teeth in the wide smile gleamed in the dark.  Belinda felt grateful that she was given another chance to meet with Vincenzo.

       “Please share my table,” he said.  “I am very pleased to see you again.”

       “Thank you, Vincenzo,” she smiled.  “I am happy to see you again, also.  I want to apologise for my attitude the last time we met.”

       “No need at all,” he said.  “I admire you all the more for not being too readily available at the drop of a hat.” Belinda had a brief twinge within her chest as she recalled the night’s debauchery, and wondered what Vince would think if he knew about it.  “I hope you do not have to run off again,” he said.  “I would be very happy if you would spend at least part of your evening with me.”

       “I’m flattered,” she said.  “Are you not concerned about being seen by your friends as you go about with a woman old enough to be your mother?”

       “Not in the least,” he said.

       “And you are not worried about being associated with a black woman?” she said, her brow furrowed with concern.

       “Don’t be silly, Belinda,” he said.  “This is Italy, not America.  We do not bother with such odious distinctions.  You are a strikingly beautiful woman, and obviously very sexy and intelligent.  I suspect that you can cook, too, which would make you a completely desirable woman.”  Belinda blushed through her dark skin and looked at her hands in her lap.

       “If I were to spend the evening with you,” she said.  She looked up at Vince to read his face when he answered, “where would we go?”

       “There is a small club I like,” he said.  “They have entertainment that you might enjoy, as well as good food.  A singer performs there who is gaining popularity day by day.”

       “That sounds nice,” she said.

       “And there is a terrace beneath the moon where we could dance,” he said.  “I will be proud if you will accompany me.”

       “I hope you won’t regret it,” she said with a shy smile, “and I will be proud to accompany you.”

       “Excellent!  Please excuse me for a moment while I make a phone call,” he said.  “Please do not disappear.  I shall return momentarily.”  Vince left the table and strode toward the restaurant.  Again, Belinda watched his retreating backside.  The broad back and beautiful buns again ignited her imagination.

       “Shall we go?” he said when he returned to Belinda after a short time.  He held his hand out to her and she slipped her hand into it.  His grip was warm, dry, and gentle as he easily drew her up from her chair.  He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her between the tables out to the street.  To her surprise, he led her to a small motor scooter, a white Vespa.

Making The Most of The Life That’s Left

December 18, 2013 Leave a comment

ImageEventually, one comes to terms with the fact that there is a lot less life left ahead than has been lived and left behind. A choice must be made: to either settle for what comes and wait for the final curtain or continue as before, taking chances, experiencing adventures and learning new stuff.  The learning of new stuff can be either difficult because one already has learned so much, or easy because a whole crop of new stuff comes along almost every day.  Certainly every week, and definitely every month.

I feel sorry for pensioners who don’t find their way into the Internet.  Sitting at home, watching boring daytime television is a waste of  one’s remaining life.  The most rudimentary understanding of a simple computer and the Internet opens the world to a person.  For one thing, it becomes easy to have daily communications with one’s family that might have traveled far afield.  I have regular contact with friends and relatives who live in distant cities and even on the other side of the planet.

After I was divorced in my mid-sixties, the Internet enabled me to have a regular flow of dates, most of whom became lovers.  They were enjoying the same kind of youthful freedom as I was, and every relationship was comfortable and satisfying for each of us.  The freedom of one’s teenage era, combined with the maturity and understanding of much experience, enabled us to flow into later life with confidence.  In the era of AIDS, mature lovers can represent comparative safety, and erroneous pregnancy is virtually eliminated.

A Time To Fly (8) adult content – 18+

December 18, 2013 Leave a comment




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Giuseppi took Belinda by the hand and led her up the huge staircase and pointed out the various works of art and architecture as they went.  Passing a closed door he put his finger to his lips.

       “Sh-sh.  It’s Anna’s room,” he whispered.  At the end of the hall he swung open the tall double doors that revealed a breathtaking suite with a huge four-poster canopy bed in ornately carved oak and gigantic crystal chandeliers.

       “This is magnificent,” Belinda said, breathless at the sight of such opulence.  Giuseppi took her hand and led her through the suite to a huge bathroom.  In a separate area there was a marble sink beside a toilet and bidet.  Further into the room there was a large area tiled in small white squares.  A large, oval tub was recessed into the tiled floor and to the side there was a shower area with four shower heads projecting out of the walls.  There was no enclosure, and one showered totally in the open.  Belinda liked that idea because she never liked the close enclosed feeling of most shower stalls.  There were large, gold-tinted mirrors all around, and racks hung with many soft, plump, white towels.  The light came from several modern sconces along the walls, and classical music created a comfortable background, although the source was not evident.

       “This is the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen,” Belinda gushed.

       “Then you must use it,” said Giuseppe.

       “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” she said.

       “I advise you to experience the water massage,” he said.  “It will surprise you how effective it is.”  Giuseppi went to the door and turned and looked back at Belinda.  “Please do, Belinda,” he said.  She thought a moment, about how she had missed an opportunity with Vincenzo Taglioni, and decided not to miss another chance at adventure.

       “Okay,” she said.

       “Excellent!”  Giuseppe left the room and closed the door behind him.  Belinda stripped down, and again checked her appearance in the mirror and found that it met with her approval.  There were hooks to hang her clothes on, and she lowered herself into the perfectly warm water comfortably naked, her black body glistening.  She looked at the small control panel and touched a button labelled ‘low’ and a whirring sound began, soft enough not to interfere with the soft music.  Jets of warm water rushed around her body, bringing her an unexpected level of relaxation and stimulation.  A jet of water pulsed between her legs sending small sensual shocks through her.  She admonished herself slightly for enjoying the masturbation effect of the jet of water.

Suddenly the door opened and Giuseppe entered in a bathrobe and carried another for Belinda.

       “I thought you might want this later,” he said.

       “I… I thought I’d be alone in here,” she said, embarrassed.

       “Don’t be silly, my darling Belinda,” he said with a laugh.  “You’re far too beautiful to be alone when you are naked.”  He stood at the edge of the tub looking down at her.  She was helpless to cover herself up.

       “I’m not comfortable in this position,” she said.

       “Don’t be silly, my dear,” he laughed.  “It’s not possible to be uncomfortable in that tub.”  He turned and removed his robe and hung it on a hook as he stepped into the shower.  He adjusted the temperature of the water and stood relaxing in the pelting stream.  Belinda looked at him, unashamed as long and his eyes were closed and he stood with his head back, letting the water rush over his face.  Belinda noticed that he was solidly built with a nice colour to his skin.  His nose was an honest predictor… his manhood was of an impressive size.  After a few minutes he walked over and lowered himself into the pool across from Belinda.

       “Now, isn’t this pleasant?” he said.  Belinda had overcome most of her inhibition, now that she had seen as much of him as he had seen of her.

       “Yes, it’s very nice,” she said.

       “Come over here to me, please,” he said.

Belinda paused for a long moment, and then she slid across the pool and rested her back on the side close to Giuseppe.  She felt his hand on her thigh and decided not to do anything about it.  He caressed her thigh, gradually moving his hand higher until his small finger was brushing against her pubic hair.  Belinda felt herself yielding to the touch, and to the caress of the bubbling water.  She reached down and found his penis.  She thrilled inside herself at the feel of it, so large and thick she couldn’t wrap her long fingers all the way around it.  Giuseppi put his hand behind Belinda’s head and pulled her face to him.  He kissed her lips firmly, and pushed his tongue between her thick lips.  She accepted it, sucked on it lightly and pushed her tongue into his mouth.  He caressed her breasts, and the dark nipples stood out hard and erect.  Suddenly, on an impulse, Belinda stood up in the tub and turned to face him, looking down at him as he leaned forward and began kissing her thighs.  He began moving his lips around on her body until the small convulsions that his kisses caused in her made her feel unsteady on her legs.

       “Take me to your bed,” she said, and reached down to take his hand and help him up.  He stood and took Belinda in his arms and kissed her, pressing her to him so her breasts pressed his chest, and her hand was still down between their bodies, caressing his rising manhood.

Giuseppe led Belinda through the bathroom to the bedroom.  They were wet from the pool, but were too eager to get to each other to take time to dry off.  They fell on the large bed beneath the canopy and explored each other with their lips and tongues.  Eventually, after hours of sexual escapades, Belinda fell happily asleep in Giuseppi’s arms until early dawn.

In the pale light of the pre-dawn hours, Belinda lay in a deep sleep, her arm slung across Giuseppe’s chest with its curls of grey hair.  She awakened to the feeling of kisses on her neck and gentle caresses down her side and leg.  Not awake, she rolled toward the warmth of the body she felt at her back.  As she slowly came awake, she realized that she was feeling breasts on her back.  She turned to see Anna’s smiling face.  Anna pulled Belinda to her and kissed her lips softly, lingering and toying with the thick lips with her active tongue.  Belinda’s first reaction of revulsion quickly changed, and she gave herself up to the feeling of passion and affection that had been so long absent from her life.  She embraced Anna in return, and they lay locked in an intense embrace when Giuseppe rolled to Belinda and pressed himself to her back so that she was surrounded with the sensual feelings of the man and the woman simultaneously.

Giuseppe dropped Belinda off at the hotel after lunch.  She stepped out of the Ferrari and went around to his window to kiss him goodbye.

       “Thank you,” she said, “for a wonderful time.  And please thank Anna for me as well.”

       “I will,” he said, and drove away as Belinda made her way to her room to change and rest.  The night had been an intense sexual adventure that had left her very tired.

Belinda dropped her clothes to the floor and went straight to her bed.  She fell into a deep sleep, her mind and her body both totally fatigued and satisfied.  She was happy that her friends and co-workers at home didn’t know about the things she’d done with Giuseppi and Anna.  She felt no shame, it had all been so open and loving and free of expectations.  Beneath her stern demeanor. Anna had proved to be a woman of passion and without inhibitions.  Beneath her clothing, Anna’s body was like magic, her creamy skin was supple to the touch, her fragrance was hypnotic and her lips and tongue worked her magic on both Belinda and Giuseppe.  In the throes of her passion, Belinda did things she’d never done before.  She’d never made love with a woman, and she’d never been in bed with two lovers at the same time.  She couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like with her and two men or her and two women.  It was a completely new thought pattern for Belinda.  She lay back in her bed and remembered looking down at Anna, her radiant skin in sharp contrast to Belinda’s own dark complexion.  It raised the excitement in Belinda to see a woman down there.

While Belinda was carried to never imagined heights by Anna’s lovemaking, Giuseppe kissed Belinda’s face, her hungry mouth, and her breasts, sucking lightly on her extended nipples.  Belinda’s body shuddered with exquisite contractions that made her blood rush.  Giuseppe then began to caress Anna, kissing her body and breasts while Anna was kissing and licking Belinda.  It was an exciting and fulfilling experience for all three of them, after which they’d enjoyed a wonderful lunch of fresh fruit and yoghurt.  Belinda was amazed at the way they enjoyed lunch together, chatting and relaxing in the sun.  One would never have guessed what they had been doing together a few hours before.  With these memories in her mind, Belinda fell asleep.

The Christmas Season Is Not For Everyone.

December 17, 2013 Leave a comment

I’m an atheist.  I feel very certain that there is no God, Christ, or any other “higher power”, and the best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your own arm.  I wish I could believe in an afterlife that consists of a heaven, hell, and purgatory. I know dozens of church going, synagogue attending, temple frequenting people who are lying, cheating, thieving bastards.  I love the idea that they believe their frequent praying gets them a free pass into paradise, with no punishment for all their evil deeds.

Imagine how nice it would be to sit on the sidelines and watch creep after creep get rejected at the gates of paradise and sent instead to a place where they will spend eternity in searing torture.  But I regret that this is not to be.  Instead, they will flourish with their multiple homes, pay for the best educations for their children, the best lawyers (should be spelled “liars”), and the best medical care.  Instead, they will simply end up as I will – dead, with no retribution for their unholy lives.

If there was a paradise, I believe I would gain admittance based on the way I have lived, even without religious faith.  I have always striven to be honest, righteous, generous, kind and considerate. I believe that the lying, cheating churchgoers would not make it to their expected paradise, while I, a devoted atheist, would be accepted because of my minimal sins and many righteous acts.  I’ve often helped people less fortunate than I, given generously to those in need, and generally done the right things.  Not, of course, for fear of going to hell, but simply because I believe it’s the better way to live.

I’ve written dozens of television shows, and not once have I had to resort to violence or semi-pornographic scenes to tell my stories. I’m not a “stick-in-the-mud” or “wallflower” either.  I’ve been around the block more than a few times, and have spent a good deal of time in the company of convicted criminals.  I like them.  They’re colourful, and in my experience, live by a code of honour that far outdoes the sinful behaviour of people of faith. The criminals have allowed me trusted entrance into their circle because they know me to be a person who is as good as his word, and can be depended upon not to blow the whistle on them.  On the other hand, I’ve been double-crossed by many religious believers.

Watch out for the pious, because often as not, they use their churchgoing ways as a cover for their true activities.  Imagine George W. Bush outwardly, faithfully attending Sunday services while sending thousands of young people to their deaths and worse, all so he and Cheney and their cronies can rake in vast fortunes.  They disgust me, and they should do the same for you.

A Time To Fly (7)

December 14, 2013 Leave a comment

       “My name is Belinda Lyons,” she said.  She looked at Giuseppi’s profile as he drove.  His nose was a bit large in his handsome, chiselled face and she wondered if it was true what they said about a man’s big nose and big feet predicting that he’d be big in his privates, too.  She knew what they said about black men being large, but her late husband was a big man, but pleasantly average in his sex organ.

       “Belinda, where would you like to go?” he said.

       “I don’t know.  I haven’t eaten for a few hours,” she said.  “Might we go somewhere for something to eat?”

       “I know just the place,” he laughed, and gunned the rumbling Ferrari down the quiet street.  He drove away from the city centre, up a steep road to a smaller road that led off to the right.  Belinda mentally prepared herself to defend herself if this man was taking her into danger.  She was aware of her size and strength, and had a brown belt in Tai Kwan Do, after taking classes for several years.

       “Here we are,” said Giuseppi Guererra.  He turned left between two tall, stone pillars through a heavy wooden gate that stood open.

       “Where are we?” said Belinda, getting a bit nervous.

       “We are at Casa Guererra,” he said.  My home.

       “But I thought we were going to get something to eat,” she said.

       “And so we are,” he said.  “I am a wonderful cook, and I will make you the most fabulous Fettuccini Alfredo that you’ve ever tasted.”

Belinda decided it was too late to start protesting, and she took the measure of Senor Guererra as he led her up the stone walk to the huge, heavy, wooden door.  The moment they arrived at the door, it swung open and a pale, grey-haired woman in housekeeper’s dress stepped aside.

       “Good evening, sir,” she said.

       “Good evening, Anna,” he said.  “This is Belinda Lyons.  I am going to fix her something to eat.  Is the kitchen vacant?”

       “Yes, sir, it is.  Everyone’s asleep.  I was waiting up for you.”

       “Thank you, Anna,” he said.  Belinda thought she caught an angry look in Anna’s eyes when she looked at Giuseppi when he turned his back to her.  “You can turn it now that I’m home.”  Anna turned her gaze on Belinda and boldly looked her up and down.  Her expression melted and became warm and she smiled into Belinda’s eyes.

       “Yes, sir,” Anna said, and openly glared at Giuseppi before she left the room and went up the long, wide, curved staircase.

       “Anna seems a bit upset,” said Belinda.

       “Anna is employed to run the house,” Giuseppi said, “but sometimes she thinks she should run me.”

       “I hope I haven’t caused any trouble,” Belinda said.

       “Don’t give it a thought.  Here, come with me to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a fine late meal,” he said.  Belinda followed him into the large kitchen.  The walls were cut stone, with a large wood-burning oven as well as a gas range.  The refrigerator, freezer, sinks, and stove were all gleaming stainless steel.  Giuseppi Guererra seemed to know what he was doing as he went efficiently around the kitchen preparing the meal.  Within fifteen minutes he placed a plate of perfect linguini Alfredo on the counter in front of Belinda, along with a bottle of fine white wine.

       “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Giuseppi asked Belinda when she finished her pasta and drained her third glass of the fine white wine.

       “I’d love to,” she said.  “I don’t want to keep you up too late though.”

       “Worry not,” he said.  “Tonight, I have no life but my time with you.”