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This is not Bigotry

July 14, 2017 Leave a comment

I am going to avoid forming friendships with two groups in the future. One group is the Jewish cult of Hassidic people. The other group is black people. I know how it can look like bigotry, but I am not against any kind of people in general. Let me explain.

I have had friendly relationships with three black people; two women and a man. All three disappointed me. They took advantage of my sincerity, my ability, and in general, they each, in separate friendships, disappointed me. Of course I will meet with and talk with other black people, but I will shy away from forming any kind of friendship or relationship. I have befriended three different black people in three different environments. They did not know each other. Each one, in ways similar to the others, betrayed my affection.

Similarly, I am never going to form a friendship with a Hassidic person. I have done business, and formed friendships with three Hassidic families. We enjoyed many conversations, teaching each other things from our separate societies. Each was a separate relationship, in business and in friendship. Of course, they knew each other, because they are all connected within their division of the cult.

In spite of very comfortable relationships, each of the Hassidic businesses cheated me. They refused to pay bills, even bills that I had to pay to my suppliers. They would pretend the colour was wrong, or the type was wrong, and used that to justify their thievery.

I did some research into how orthodox people can be crooked. What I learned is this; they have a connection with god, and their allegiance is to god. That’s why they pray 4 or 5 times a day. Their connection with society, however, is unimportant. It doesn’t count, as long as they’re in god’s good books. If one is not a practicing orthodox Jew, one does not qualify for honesty.

All religions, in one way or another, are built with the same self-importance.

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Lured Into A Secretive Squad (continued 26)

May 7, 2015 Leave a comment

In the afternoon my cellphone buzzed. It was Aileen Schachter, sounding cold and indifferent. I was relieved at that. She said that I was to attend a meeting of N3 at a synagogue banquet room. I wanted to ask her if Naomi Cheslow was to come along, but I refrained for fear it might touch off a jealous tirade. I needn’t have done it, because Naomi’s phone buzzed before I’d rung off. She was also called to the meeting which was called for eight that evening, so Naomi and I had supper together before we proceeded to it.

The restaurant was called ‘Little Sicily’. We chose a table in a little alcove not visible from the entrance. I ordered fettuccini Alfredo and Naomi ordered Veal Marsala.

“I’m sorry I caused stress between you and Aileen,” Naomi said.

“It’s not your fault. Aileen feels she has a right to me, whether I agree or not,” I said.

We ate in silence. The food was wonderful. I love Italian food, and ‘Little Sicily’ knows how to make it properly.

We left the restaurant feeling satisfied. We arrived at the N3 meeting just before Aileen called it to order. There was a large, rough-hewn hardwood crate at the front of the room. On a sign from Aileen, two of the guys opened the top of the crate and began to unload firearms of various kinds.

“The time has come, friends, to establish our position in this society,” said Aileen. “We have been asked by the Jewish Defense League to ‘ride shotgun’, so to speak, for a peaceful protest. A group of orthodox and Hassidic Jewish people will assemble at nine o’clock Sunday morning.”

“Where?” said Naomi. Aileen glared at her.

“At the north end of Riva Goldstone Park near Eisenhower Avenue. The Aryans have sworn to crack every skull in the group, so all of us will be armed and ready to shoot on command if a desperate situation arrives. Please make your way to David and Sheldon to get your armaments.”

“I don’t like this,” I said to Naomi. “I don’t want to shoot anybody.”

“Nobody wants to shoot anybody, Sweetheart,” said Naomi. “I’m sure the show of force will dissuade the bikers from attacking.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I said.

There was nearly five hundred people gathered in the park when I got there with Naomi. More than half of them were Hassidic people, the men in long, black coats, white shirts and black vests with the tassels (tzitzis) hanging out. Their women wore heavy dresses and skirts to their ankles, with kerchiefs over their wigs. The other people were just ordinary people that you’d not notice were Jews. Except for orthodox people, where the men all wore yarmulkes on their heads, and some wore fedoras.

The mob had just begun to spread from the park onto Barnard Avenue and began the slow walk to city hall to bring recognition to the suffering of the Jewish citizens at the hands of the Aryans. The earth began to tremble as the Aryans on their Harley-Davidson motorcycles rumbled up the Avenue. They stopped half a block away and parked their bikes together, right across the road so no one could get by.

Little Aileen was carrying an Uzi as she strode out ahead of the marchers and saw Clark McCracken standing proudly in the line of ruffians.

“McCracken!” said Aileen, “are you crazy? Do you know what I’m going to do to you now?”

“You ain’t gonna do nuthin’ you piece of Jew shit!” said McCracken. He ran at Aileen brandishing a machete. Naomi raised her nine millimetre Luger and dropped Clark in his tracks. Suddenly, Aileen turned and shot Naomi. I was shocked and automatically raised my AK47. Before I could squeeze off a shot, Aileen nailed me with a burst from her Uzi. One went through my left eye and knocked a chunk of brain matter out through the large hole it made behind my ear. Another went through my heart and left lung and one in the groin an inch above the willy. I was dead before I hit the floor, and I have no idea how the protest went, what happened to Aileen, if anything. You know what? I don’t care. I realize that nothing really matters much, and my frustrations, my burdens and my concerns are all gone. This is heaven.

Nascence Of Freedom At Last

October 12, 2014 Leave a comment

The fire crackled cheerfully, casting a warm, golden light and dancing shadows over the two naked bodies. David’s large, muscular frame engulfed Shaynah’s petite body.  Her smooth, alabaster skin stood out boldly against his tanned body.  Shaynah’s mind was also engulfed.  The waves of ecstasy that rolled over her set fire to her spirit.  The thought that such feelings were available to secular women made her feel stupid and ignorant.  She berated herself for suffering this self denial for decades, and almost felt hatred for the teachers and parents who forced such ignorance on innocent children.

A rippling convulsion shook Shaynah, laying unashamed against David’s cool body. A trickle of fluid ran out of her vagina.  She was moved to reach behind herself and feel David’s penis.  It lay dormant against her behind.  Her fingers explored it, and it soon responded, swelling and stiffening. Excitement took over Shaynah, and she held the organ until it was hard. David shifted his position and gently pushed himself into Shaynah. The lubricating fluids facilitated the penetration.  Both Shaynah and David were transfixed by the feeling.  Shaynah had little sex in her life, and what there was was pedestrian to say the least. The rush of passion that she felt after a life of emotional denial was almost overwhelming.  David was also moved by the thrill of Shaynah’s body.  The feelings that exploded from the penetration shot through his body to his extremities like never before in his life.

Shaynah cried out with a massive orgasm and began to weep quietly. David withdrew and cuddled Shaynah as she wept.

“Why do you cry?” he said.

“I thought this was not to ever be in my life,” she said and turned to lay face to face with him. She put one arm around him and spoke into his throat. “What do you think of a woman of fifty who never before had an orgasm that she didn’t give herself?”

“I think she must be pretty clean,” he joked.

“I’m serious!” she demanded.

“I think she’s very attractive, has a beautiful, mature body and gorgeous, smooth skin,” he said. “And by the way, a terrific lover.”

“I don’t actually believe you,” Shaynah said.  “I had sometimes imagined that sex could be done from the back like that, but I couldn’t imagine how wonderful it would feel.  I didn’t know there were such feelings.

They got up from the blanket on the bear skin and went to the kitchen. Shaynah put on a robe while David remained wrapped in the blanket. He directed her to a first aid kit in the closet.  While he sat on a kitchen chair, she treated the laceration with antiseptic and a bandage. When she was done, she poured coffee for them and sat in a chair beside him. The experienced businesswoman in her had an offer to make.

“I hope you will agree with what I’m about to suggest,” Shaynah said.  “The facts are as follows: you love this island and you’d like to live here, but not alone because you just spent two years alone here writing your book. Right?”

“Right,” David said, taking aspirin with his coffee.

“I would like to buy this island and live here most of the year, right?”

“I’m not sure about that one,” David said.

“I propose that I buy the island, giving you a lot of cash to do with what you wish,” she said, “and you continue to live in the cabin, independent and free, and your rent will be that you will help me manage the place.  You know, grounds keeping, maintenance, boating, things that you are familiar with and that I am not capable of doing.”

“And on a personal level?” he said.  “You sound so impersonal for a person speaking to a person with whom I just made love.”  Shaynah softened her attitude.

“I’m sorry, David,” she said.  “I’m so accustomed to every negotiation being tough, from my business experience.”

“And are we lovers?” David said.

“Oh, God, yes!” Shaynah laughed heartily. “I propose that we go to each others beds when the feeling is upon us.”

“Do we accept it with good feelings if the occupier of the bed does not feel up to sex at that moment?” David said.

“Of course.  It must all be light hearted and loving,” Shaynah said, “and honest.  And we will refer to it as ‘making love’, not ‘fucking’ or ‘having sex’.

“Sounds good to me,” David said, and took Shaynah in his arms where she felt at peace and safe.

An Introduction To Intimacy

October 10, 2014 Leave a comment

Looking down at David, half conscious on the sofa, Shaynah had to act.  The sight of him in his tattered t-shirt and sodden pants and shoes was more than she could handle.  She forced herself to remove his wet clothes so she could dry him and wrap him in a warm blanket. She removed his soggy shoes and socks. She grasped the cuffs of his jeans and tugged them off as he helped by wriggling a bit. Faced with the jockey shorts and the prominent bulge at the crotch, Shaynah was fearful, embarrassed and excited at the same time.  She clenched her teeth, grasped the shorts by their waist band and pulled them down.  She tried to not look directly at his bare penis but could not resist.  She was curious, wanted to touch it but was afraid.  She berated herself: how ridiculous for a woman of fifty to be excited by and afraid of a penis.

David began to shudder and shiver.  Shaynah hurried to her room and stripped off the duvet and hurried to put it over David’s naked body.  Shaynah didn’t have any way to know if his body was average or worse or better, and her conclusion was that it must be better.  It made her almost dizzy with excitement and she let her eyes drink him in as she was tucking the cover around him.  He continued to shiver, so Shaynah helped him to get closer to the fire, stretched out on the fur carpet, wrapped in the duvet.

Shaynah became alarmed as David continued to convulse and shiver.  On impulse, she stripped down to nudity, peeled back a flap of the duvet and slid in next to David’s shuddering body.  She pressed herself to his back, her breasts spread warmth on him while her stomach rested on the roundness of his behind.  She lay still, almost afraid to move as she let her mind absorb the cascade of feelings that coursed through her.  She focused on his male fragrance, the texture of his skin on her breasts and stomach. David stopped shuddering, and Shaynah cuddled to him desperately, adrenaline making her feel light headed as she experienced an ever-heightening level of arousal.  There were feelings that she’d never before felt in her severely restricted cult life.

David began to stir.  Shaynah was about to roll away from him when he reached back and took her hand.  She was surprised by it, and involuntarily jerked away, but he held fast to her wrist.  Slowly, he moved her hand around his waist and placed it on his soft penis. Again Shaynah recoiled, and David again placed her hand on his penis.  Shaynah was almost dizzy with the new experiences.

Slowly, David rotated around to face Shaynah. He put a bit of space between their naked bodies, and allowed Shaynah to explore him.  He knew enough about the orthodox cult to know that since she was born, she had been walled off from any sensual experience of any kind.  It includes books, magazines, television, anything stimulating.  At fifty she was experiencing things she should have experienced before she was twenty.

David’s penis began to pulse in Shaynah’s hand, and gradually it began to stiffen.  Shaynah would like to have watched it, but she was too afraid.  She rolled away from David so the duvet fell open and spread out.  Her back was now to David.  He pressed himself to Shaynah’s back.  She felt a wave of Ecstasy at the warmth of David’s body pressed to her.  His penis began to poke between her thighs and Shaynah felt faint with excitement and fear.

An Unexpected Crisis

October 8, 2014 Leave a comment

Shaynah was desperate to get David safely out of the water.  Looking around frantically on the moonlit shore, she saw a winch on a trailer for hauling boats out of the water. She dragged it up the beach and tied it to a tree close to the cabin. She figured out how to release the ratchet and loosened the cable on the winch.  She pulled the cable down to the place where David lay. There was another length of rope coiled on a rock.  She looped it over his chest and under his arms and knotted it behind his head.  She pulled a canvass tarpaulin off of a small rowboat that was sitting on the sand a few feet from the water.

She spread the tarp on the beach and tried to tuck the leading edge under David’s shoulders. She went up to the winch and began to crank David out of the water.  Although the tarp tended to gather under David’s limp body, it stayed in place sufficiently for Shaynah to drag him onto it. She took the rope from around his chest and attached it to the tarpaulin.  Back at the winch, she was able to turn the crank until David was close to the cabin porch.  He began to regain consciousness, and Shaynah helped him to sit up.

Bit by bit, David was able to get weakly to his feet with Shaynah’s help.  He was not totally aware of his situation when she put his arm across her shoulders and he half walked, half was dragged into the cabin.  Shaynah lay him on the sofa in front of the fireplace.  It was prepared to be lit, with logs and kindling in place.  She took a match from the box of Redbird wooden matches that sat on the mantelpiece and lit the kindling.  While the fire grew and took hold, Shaynah set about removing David’s soaked clothing. He seemed to have passed out again. She ignored the blood that stained her clothes and the sofa.

The adrenalin that had powered Shaynah to do what needed to be done was beginning to lessen.  She stood looking down at the handsome young man.  When she had her arm around him, his arm across her shoulders, it was the first time in her life that she’d had physical closeness with a man.  It was all the more stimulating because he was a young man and very good looking. Although he lived a secular life, he was a Jew.  Tentatively, and with shaking hands, Shaynah undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants.  She was afraid to remove them.  Even with her husband, Jewish law forbade intimacy, especially for pleasure, and sex took place with a sheet between them, only a space for insertion was open.

Shaynah delayed removal of David’s pants by deciding to remove the T-shirt first.  She couldn’t do it in one piece.  She found a scissors in a kitchen drawer and cut the shirt to pieces.  She cut it up the middle of his chest but still couldn’t get it over his arms. She looked down at his chest and gasped at the sight of the muscles and tanned torso.  She fought against her inhibitions and gently passed her hand over his chest, the curly light hair caressed her palm.

Flushed and stimulated as she had never been in her half-century of life in the cult, Shaynah determined to remove all David’s clothes and wrap him warmly as the fire lept and crackled, warming the bearskin rug that lay before the hearth.

 

By The Light Of The Silvery Moon

October 6, 2014 Leave a comment

Determined to break away from all the severely restrictive rules by which she had been forced to live all her life, Shaynah made herself a super-unkosher  meal.  She prepared a sandwich of ham on cheese with mustard. The Jewish dietary laws forbid consumption of the meat of pigs, and the consuming of any meat with any dairy product is also forbidden.  Shaynah felt bitter about her life.  Her parents had foisted Itzhak onto her so the family business could flourish through an association with Itzhak’s family business.  Then she had to live with a slovenly, ugly, lazy, obese man for most of her life.  The more she tastes of the secular life, the more furious she becomes at the life’s losses she’d suffered.

After she enjoyed her sandwich in front of the television set while watching news.  She began to worry again about David, and called the cabin again on the intercom.  Again, there was no response.  Unable to stop worrying, Shaynah decided to look for him.  Darkness had fallen, so she dressed in some khaki pants she found in a closet, and the flannel shirt.  She decided to not wear her clunky bra, and considered her liberated breasts another step toward freedom. Her breasts were substantial, with large brown nipples. They sagged much more than she would like.  After suckling three children, it couldn’t be avoided.  However, the loose-fitting plaid flannel shirt disguised them and she had no intention of exhibiting them to David or anyone else.

The sky was clear, and there were stars beyond numbers all the way around her, over the horizon.  Overhead, the moon was almost full, and the white light it cast helped her to find her way, slowly and carefully, down the path to the cabin.  When she at last reached it, she peered in the large front window.  The lights were on, and she could see that there was no one in that room.  There were two other rooms where he might have been, so she knocked on the door.  There was no answer, so Shaynah made her way down the path to the dock at the water’s edge.  The moon bathed the scene in a creamy light, and she began to get a sense of foreboding, and it made her nervous.

There was just the slightest roll to the water, sending small waves lapping gently at the glossy rocks lit by moonlight. Even though the sound was gentle, it made Shaynah nervous because in could hide the sound of someone sneaking up along the beach.  David’s persistent absence was adding another level to her anxiety.  She turned to make her way up to the main house and her eyes swept over something in the water, just at the shoreline. She looked back again, and her breath caught in her throat.  It was a body.

Shaynah didn’t want to go near the body.  It was shifting slowly back and forth, rocked by the waves.  She mustered up the gumption and staggered over the slippery, wet rocks.  It was David!  He was floating face up, his shoulders resting on the immersed stones, a darker stain in the water surrounded his head.  Shaynah surmised that he’d been walking on the rocks in the dark, slipped and banged his head and gave himself a concussion.  She could see his chest rise and fall in the wet T-shirt that clung to his body.  She had to get him out of the water and at least up to the cabin.  She’d never get him up to the main house.

She tugged at his arms, but couldn’t move his limp, two-hundred pound body. Shaynah looked around for something… anything she could use to move David.

Better Late – 30

October 4, 2014 Leave a comment

The atmosphere in the main house was a bit strained.  David Goodman was analyzing the proposal set forth by Shaynah Gnavitsh: She, a woman about fifty years old, suddenly broken away from the restrictive cult of the Hassidics, sharing an isolated island with a thirty-year-old author.  David’s first thought was that it might work if they did not live under the same roof.  David had been living in the guest cabin most of the time, to allow the main house to be pristine for any potential buyers to view and experience.

The thought suddenly hit David that this is exactly what was happening. Naturally, he had expected that he would be showing the place to mature couples entering retirement, and had not really thought of any other possibilities in the sale of his beloved island.

Shaynah was sitting in the living room watching television with wrapped attention when David approached from his office. She turned to greet him.

“Do you know, David?” she said, “I have never before been allowed to sit and face a television screen and enjoy the show.”

“It does seem extraordinary,” he said. “Don’t get carried away with it.  They can make the most unlikely things appear to be true, and believe me, it’s not. Be especially wary of commercials.  Their language is very tricky, and if you analyze their statements, you can see that they cover as much as they reveal.”

“How disappointing,” Shaynah said.

“Yes, it is,” David said.  “I’m going down to the cabin for a while, to contemplate your proposal.”

“I’ll right,” she said. “I hope you decide to try it. I’ll see you later.” She turned her attention to a soap opera, and was absorbed into the outlandish situations.

The afternoon wore on, and Shaynah began to wish David would return to the main house.  The late afternoon light bathed the rooms in a rosy-golden glow, and she was suddenly quite hungry. She saw the intercom installation on the kitchen wall, and the buttons that were labeled ‘bedroom 1’, ‘bedroom 2′, bedroom 3’, ‘office’, ‘living room’, ‘dining room’, ‘cabin’.  She held down the ‘cabin’ button and spoke into the grill.

“David, are you coming up for dinner?” she said, released the button and awaited the response.  None came.

“Calling David Goodman,” she said, attempting levity to overcome her increasing nervousness.

Shaynah told herself that he was probably out walking on the beach, enjoying the setting sun.  She convinced herself that it was not her place to pursue him on his own home turf, and instead went into the kitchen to prepare herself a delicious, non-kosher meal.  She was disgusted with herself for enduring the ridiculous cult traditions for so many years while her young life was speeding away.  She was going to break every Hassidic taboo that had deprived her of joy and pleasure throughout her enslaved life.

Before she set about preparing her meal, she returned to the intercom, pressed the ‘cabin’ button.

“David, please come up for dinner.  It’s on me,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted.

Again, there was no response. Reluctantly, Shaynah began to explore the refrigerator for the makings of a meal.