Someone to watch over me – GS.

Scene setting : Elissa’s apartment.

co-written with VunG.


Razorbackwriter:  When last Tommy had seen Frank and Elissa, it was when he had dropped them both off at Elissa’s apartment. Frank, being the man that he was offered to look after Elissa at her place since she had just been released from hospital and was still in a bad way. Parking his car, Tommy looked across the seat to the package that he had been given by Madame Rose Li. He shuddered as he remembered the sickening pictures of the Commander inside. He hadn’t even gone as far as to watch the DVD, but if the pictures were anything to go by, it certainly wouldn’t be suitable for viewing. As far as Tommy was concerned this was pure blackmail material. How long Rose had been sitting on it was unclear, but one thing was clear and that was that there was more to this than met the eye. A shift in power in the underworld perhaps. Tommy really didn’t know for sure, but if the Commander was working for one crime boss rather than a syndicate, than it would make perfect sense to tear him down and expose the Mister Big behind Joey’s murder. Armed with this knowledge, Tommy believed that this could only serve to help Frank and even make it onto the papers. Probably social media too.

Taking up the package, Tommy got out of his car and headed into the apartment complex. Taking the lift up to the third floor, when he got out he headed down to Elissa’s apartment. It was getting late now, and both Elissa and Frank might be sleeping. Tommy wasn’t to know, as he hadn’t bothered to call them. He was kinda in a rush to tell them what he had been given, even though part of him hated using anything brought up by Rose. There was definitely no good blood between them.

Tommy stood at the door and knocked three times, waiting for someone to answer.



VunG:  Knock, knock, knock. Elissa jolted awake from her slumber, her good hand reaching for the knife she kept under her pillow just out of pure reflex. Eyes darting around, it took her a solid five seconds before she realized that she was just overreacting, as tended to be the case with these things. Shaking her head, she looked up towards the door to her bedroom and realized that someone must’ve been at the door. Jeeze… she must’ve been really tired, she didn’t even have any dreams while she was asleep. Frowning, she looked to the clock, and realized that it had only been maybe an hour or two since before… no wonder she didn’t feel refreshed.

Yawning massively, she got up, still dressed in her pants and tank top, and stumbled over to the door. She had to admit, she felt a little out of it; perhaps the painkillers were affecting her slightly, or just the blood-loss. Still, her shoulder didn’t hurt for the time being. Or maybe she still had a bone to pick with Frank…

Shaking off that thought, she went ahead and opened the door. Tommy would of course notice that Elissa wasn’t in any great shape at the moment; her hair was splayed every which way, she had full blown grocery bags under red-riddled eyes. However, she visibly perked up a little at seeing him, even if she was slightly surprised to see the reporter here after his rather hurried departure. Not really waiting for an explanation, she went ahead and ushered him in, figuring that it could perhaps wait until he was settled in.


Razorbackwriter:  Tommy’s hand was still in the air as he was about to knock again when the door opened suddenly and Elissa appeared – looking like she had just rolled out of bed. Tommy made a slight face to see her like this. It was not like he was being rude, just shocked by her appearance. Hair wild. Wind swept and interesting. Her eyes had massive bags beneath them with red veins streaking across the white. She…was a sight. Tommy almost forgot what he was there for. At first he stuttered as he tried to find his voice. “God, did I wake you up?” This was said as he leaned forward a little. The parcel in his left hand making a slight crackling sound as he waited to be invited in. Course, she ushered him in kindly and he sort of hopped through the door. He looked awkward, like he was trespassing. Wasn’t Frank still here?

“I know I should have called first but….I’m still kind of in shock by what is in this package.” Finding the nearest table he placed it down, before turning and looking about the room for Frank.

“Where’s Frank?” Tommy again assumed he was there somewhere.

Not seeing him off the bat, Tommy then thought he might have been in the bathroom….or the bedroom.

While waiting for Elissa to close the door, Tommy started to explain more in depth why he was there.

“I’ve just come from my office. Had a run in with my editor WHO happened to have been chewed out by one fat prick at the NYPD top office.” Elissa would be able to guess just who he meant by that. “Then….a blast from the past.” A delicate way of saying Rose. “…was waiting for me in my office. With this.”

He spilled out the photographs and the DVD on the coffee table. The images were shocking to say the least.

“I…bet you can guess who the guy with the goat is.” Tommy said. He then waited for her reaction.



VunG:  Elissa didn’t truly realize what sort of condition she seemed to be in, though if she looked half as bad as she felt she was probably a bit of a mess. Still, it wasn’t like Tommy was doing anything wrong. She shrugged lightly at his question, admitting that he did, but she didn’t even have the energy to be angry at him even if she wanted to be. As she closed the door behind him, she raised an eyebrow at the comment about the package, but she figured it was probably something either to do with the creature from the alleyway or something else of a useful nature. When the question of Frank came up, she sighed with frustration, shaking her head, fully intending to sign an explanation. She was still royally mad at the guy, mostly because she was worried about him… and also because she was angry at herself. However, before she could explain the situation to Tommy, he went ahead and began explaining that he’d already been head off at the pass by the commander.

She went ahead and knelt down by the coffee table at his explanation. And then it all came out onto the table… and leaned over to look at one of the pictures thoughtlessly, letting out a tired yawn, smacking her lips as she tried to focus on it. Okay… so someone was caught in a compromising picture with… wait that was the Commander with a… was that a… goat? Immediately she shook her head with shock, smacking herself in the cheek as if she was imagining things. “Wht?!” she whispered aloud, spreading out the pictures before sputtering into a fit of coughing that didn’t know if it was laughter. It was kind of like a train-wreck, disturbing in a way that you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t.

Eventually she pulled away from it and looked at Tommy with a strange expression, half-way between horrified and amused. He’d probably just given them a hell of a lot of ammunition to use, and there were so many ways that they could use it. Sighing softly, she said to him with a light smirk, ~You’re so bad for even considering these helpful.~ At which point she leaned forward towards him, folding her hands over each other and looked up at him with a tired but wicked smile, ~So how are we going to use them?~


Razorbackwriter:  ~You’re so bad for even considering these helpful.~

“Hey, I’m not the one having sex with the goat!”

Tommy had a smug expression as he stood with his arms folded before Elissa. “I mean, I have heard of loving animals, but that’s ridiculous.” Pointing at one picture in particular. It was disgusting. The reporter would not ever normally consider using such images on social media or print media, but Frank’s career and the lives of those he cared about were being affected by the crooked Commander. Elissa’s reaction was not totally unexpected. A sort of horrified giggle in seeing the shocking images came from her though silently as she had no voice. ~So how are we going to use them?~ That was Elissa’s next question and an important one.

“Use them as leverage. Send him one and say there is more and that unless he met our demands then his goat love affair will be plastered over ever possible social media service on earth.” At the end of saying this, Tommy flashed a grin. He was feeling a bit cocky for even going this far.

“I can’t wait for Frank to see these.”

Still Tommy had not cottoned on that Frank was not in Elissa’s apartment. He was so caught up in his plans with the dirty pictures that his rush to tell Elissa had him missing the clues that Frank had left.

The reporter let out a loud yawn as he had still not been to bed for two days. Patting his hand over his mouth, he asked.“Can I bum a coffee from you?”




VunG:  Elissa snickered a bit at the man’s protests; she’d largely been joking with him. It was disgusting, yes, but she had to admit that this sort of thing was solid gold as far as what they needed in this situation. She wasn’t the sort of person to do these shadowy backstabbing skulduggery things, but desperate times called for desperate measures… and there were some enemies that were just worth the pleasure of watching them squirm. It would be a shame that she’d never get the chance to see the looks on the commander’s face. She returned his grin tiredly, eager to follow through on this plan of his… though she almost wanted to get some electronic copies. Shame that that sort of stuff would be easily traced if she wasn’t careful.

And then he mentioned Frank. Immediately she winced, guilt crashing over her like a tsunami wave. She’d been forced to abandon the man by her damn injuries, but she’d taken her sweet time in letting Tom know. Not that they could probably do anything… it sounded like the pizza place was just a stopping point, wherever Frank was headed after that was anyone’s guess. Sighing, she nodded to his request, gesturing to the coffee machine on her desk, a bright red Folger’s can next to it. However, before he could get away, she grabbed his hand to get his attention and explained. ~Frank flew the coop,~ she told him, concern apparent in her eyes, ~He received a call from someone, Isolde I think, and left without explaining. But… I don’t know… he looked like he was going to his own execution.” Sighing she shook her head and bit her lip, continuing to sign, “I don’t know if he’s planning on doing something drastic or just needed to get away, but… I should’ve gone after him, injuries be damned.”


Razorbackwriter:  Tommy was about to help himself to a hot cup of joe, when Elissa grabbed his hand in order to get his attention. The reporter had been yapping so much that the poor girl could barely get across the fact that Frank…had flown the coop. Watching her hand signing, he realized that Frank must have just came up for a moment or two with Elissa and then taken off again after a call from Isa. The last part of her signing had Tommy start to have a fit.

“He was SUPPOSED to be taking care of you!” Oh Tommy was angry. He threw his head back and let out a strangled sort of noise. If that son of a bitch was going to go do something drastic rather than stand and fight, Tommy would never forgive him. Or himself. It was not like Tommy could baby sit Frank 24/7, but some days that was what he felt he needed to do. Ever since Rory’s death, Frank’s life had crumbled into the pathetic existence he now suffered. Tommy instantly forgot all about coffee. Turning to Elissa he went to reach for her shoulders, then realized that he would do her an injury. Tommy stopped himself in time and seemed to just have his hands hanging in the air… he wanted to throttle something. He had the goods on the Commander, to make the Boss back the hell off Frank. It would give them breathing space till the real shooter was caught. The reporter was starting to wonder if he was in the right job.

“You are injured, Elissa. No way should you have followed him. Damn, you look like you could use another eight hours of sleep.”

Taking out his cellphone, he tried to ring Frank. All he got, was his message bank.

“It’s Tommy! You call and let us know where you are. I swear to hell and back if you do something stupid, I’ll kill you myself!”

Tommy ended the message and stared at Elissa with a grumpy look.

“Too harsh?”



VunG:  Perhaps she should’ve just kept her mouth shut. Elissa knew damn well that Tommy had every right to be angry, and she was right there with him, but by the same token she didn’t want these two friends getting into yet another fight on her behalf. And damn it all, she was too tired to deal with any more drama. For a moment when Tommy raised his hands she thought that he had lost it and was about to shake her, but apparently he caught himself before he followed through with whatever it was. His words cut a bit, though she knew he meant nothing by it. She shook her head insistently declaring defiantly, ~I’ll live,~ not truly realizing the irony of the statement.

However, she definitely had no complaints about what he said to Frank, and while it was perhaps a bit harsh, the man needed something harsh to wake him up. When the man hung up the phone, she responded to his comment with a shrug then reached for his hand, holding it calmly between both of hers. Then she did a rather dramatic inhale, her entire body puffing up before she let out a noisy exhale. She repeated this once or twice, then released his hand and gestured for him to copy her. Right now getting worked into a frenzy wasn’t helping anyone. However, she didn’t go anywhere; right now coffee, sleep, and all that nonsense took second place to simply dealing with the interpersonal nonsense that needed addressing in the here and now.


Razorbackwriter:  Elissa was being so strong and making out how she’d live, even though it was pretty clear that she needed rest to help her get better. How were the painkillers to do their job if she didn’t get some sleep? Feeling Elissa take his hand and try to hold it between the two of hers, Tommy stared at her oddly; still annoyed with Frank. She started doing this dramatic and bizarre inhaling and exhaling. You know the kind you do when you are in a pregnancy class. It looked odd, but she must have had a reason for it. “Ohhhh you want me to ….oh right.” Hearing the noisy exhale, Tommy puffed up his chest – inflating his lungs to the max and then let out a really loud long sigh. Did it help? Hard to say, but it took his mind off Frank. He did another one and you could see his body was starting to relax. His shoulders dropped slightly and the furrowing of his brows stopped. A last sigh, and Tommy made up his mind what needed to happen now. No more chasing, no more running after leads. Elissa’s health came first. Tommy resigned himself to now being Elissa’s babysitter. Not Frank’s. Frank had yet to return his call, so he tossed his cell on the coffee table that was covered in the dirty photos.

“Right little lady. Bed…and I won’t have a word of argument. Not one. And no wicked hand signing either.”

There, he had given the order. No sooner said, he took off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, before kicking off his shoes. He threw himself on the couch and rummaged for the TV remote.

“I wonder if Dancing with the stars is on.” He was speaking now to himself, thinking she would be a good girl and just go to bed, like he had told her too.




VunG:  To Elissa’s relief, Tommy caught onto what she was trying to do, and she watched as he very visibly calmed down a bit. Granted, she doubted that such things would be enough to completely calm him down, but it was a place to start. As he released his own sigh, she eased off and released his hands. With that done though, she realized that he was probably going to wind up babysitting her, and as humiliating as that was, she was admittedly a grateful that he cared that much. Finally letting her barriers drop as he somewhat bossily told her to go to bed, she responded with a sleepy but bratty looking, ~Yes dad.~ However, as she was turning to go to her bedroom and take another shot at getting the rest she so desperately needed, she paused and turned back around. She caught his comment, but it wasn’t of much consequence to her at the moment.

As she looked back to Tommy, she couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth in her cheeks. He was acting so selflessly on her behalf, and when they had only just met too. Biting her lip thoughtfully, she re-entered the room and went over behind him on the couch. The man would find her arms lightly wrapping around his chest as she leaned behind him, then, leaning up to his ear, whispered a raspy, “Thanks.” Giving him a light peck on the cheek, she then went ahead and returned to her room, giving one last look towards him with a thin smile before ducking inside and finally trying to get some sleep again.


Razorbackwriter:  Feeling the warm arms wrap around his chest caught the reporter by surprise, but he quickly accepted it when he felt her breath upon his ear. That deep raspy wisp of a voice offering thanks made him chuckle. If only everyone knew the delight of a breathless thank you. Frank patted her arm on feeling the light peck of her lips to his cheek.“You’re welcome, hun.”

Watching Elissa finally make the trek into her bedroom and closing her door, Tommy put his feet up on the coffee table and started to flick through the channels. Infomercials, old soaps, gory news bulletins from around the globe and finally a repeat of Dancing with the stars. Oh this was candy floss for the brain and after about two minutes the remote slid from Tommy’s hand as his head lolled back and a loud snore erupted.

The poor guy finally gave up fighting the need for sleep and succumbed like a baby.

On the idiot box, the dancers were doing a slow tango. Brightly coloured garb swirled on the dance floor; with judges to the side looking bored shit less.




Let’s Celebrate – SS.

Scene setting : Hell’s Kitchen.

co-written with Moo & Temp.


Moo:  A celebration? The sound of that had Narcissa jumping for joy. She’d hardly traveled away from the laboratory! Her giddy exterior was almost overwhelming for any normal person. Luckily, these people were quite the opposite. Save Igor, who could probably survive much better without her presence. She clapped her hands together and tilted her head with a smile just as he let out his little yay.
“Hm?” The female monster turned her head, her torso coming down in a half bow as she gazed down at him. “Igor?” It looked as though he were down for the count. She slapped his cheek a few times, lightly. And when that didn’t work, she picked him up by the arm and lifted him. “Igor, you’re going to miss dinner! And dancing!”
The girl’s prodding was silenced as the Doctor piped up once again. She turned her head, dropping Igor to the ground in a thud. The House of Red Velvet? That sounded delightful! Like the cake! Maybe they served cake there! Despite not needing to eat, it was no secret Narcissa liked the taste of food. She could splurge on it as much as she wanted! But… “What would I wear?” It was a problem she’d had often, being much bigger than most average girls. Her lips set in a slight pout while she looked to Roxanne for help. “Does Roxy have any ideas?”


Temp:  Roxanne was very much excited due the apparent success of the Doctors experiment. It seemed that everyone else in the Lab shared in her enthusiasm, except for Igor of course. He was always such a serious little guy, but she liked that about him. Honestly, she hadn’t quite expected a ‘formal’ celebration to take place, but was happy about it regardless. This Red Velvet place sounded awesome, and she was definitely excited to go there with all of her friends. Narcissa’s quest for something more normal to wear was one she could help with. Roxanne quickly hopped over to her and snagged her by one of her hands, immediately tugging her along with her towards a different room. She kicked the door open and turned on the light in the room, revealing it’s contents. “This is where I put all the belongings of the more…feminine…dead. I’m sure we can find something here!” She gave Narcissa a reassuring look and let go of her hand, giving her the freedom to look through the room.



With the girls both occupied in getting their glad rags on for a night on the town, it was time to get the Lab’s roadster ready for the night out. Igor limped along after the Doctor, still smoldering after being part of the lightning harnessing with Narcissa. The smell of burnt hair was a bit on the nose, even for the likes of the good Doctor. As he activated the rollerdoor, he shook his head at what Igor was wearing.

“No no no no. You can’t go to the Red Velvet in a burnt robe. Go put on something snappy. Top hat, tails…the works, Igor.” The hunchback was never normally asked out to a night on the town, so he was a little apprehensive. “But Master…can’t I just stay here and work on my bug collection?” Truth be told, he was scared of being anywhere near Narcissa. Whether she knew it or not, she made the poor hunchback’s life hell.

“Igor…you are going to come to dinner, or…I shall put an ant eater in your room to look after your bugs for you.”

“EEEK!…Alright alright.” The hunchback caved, and staggered off to go get cleaned up and dressed, while the Doctor tinkered about on the car. The roadster was a real show car. Ideal for picking up the dead, and taking out that someone special. Not that the Doctor normally dated, but he was a keen car enthusiast.

When he had the car purring like a kitten on steroids, he would honk the horn to alert the girls and Igor that it was time to go.



Moo:  Narcissa found herself in the next room, giddy with excitement while she roamed around the room. Surely a dress wouldn’t be too hard to fit into! Sure, the woman retained curve and was six foot, but that wouldn’t stop her from looking spiffy tonight. She browsed over anything white or blue, picking things off the hangers. Her lab coat ended up on draped over a chair after she tossed it carelessly. The first dress would be thrown over her clumps of gauze and bandages, creating little bumps under the tight-fitting dress. A bit of a sulk passed over her face for a moment while she looked in the mirror. The dress was too short!
Next, next, next… Several dresses later and she was forcing her way into a new white dress. A honk of the horn let her know she was out of time and she flailed her arms. Amazingly enough, this dress fit over her body and hung to her knees. It would be good enough! So long as she didn’t move a lot in it… “I hope you’re ready, Roxy!” she exclaimed, rushing to grab the nurse’s hand. She would lead the way out to the car, only to greet the Doctor with a big smile. “We’re ready!” Only Igor was left. She puffed her cheeks, pursing her lips while she waited on the little hunchback. Her excitement was to a point where she wouldn’t be able to wait another minute for him. To which extent she wouldn’t even debate on bringing him out herself.


Razorbackwriter:  “IGOR!…WE WILL BE LATE!” The Doctor yelled, honking his horn madly as he waited for the pint sized assistant to make his way back to the garage. The Doctor got out of the front of the roadster, only to see Roxanne and Narcissa emerge hand in hand. They were both…a sight. A vision of female perfection. Well, in his eyes.

“My dear ladies.” He said with a sweep of his hand and opened the back door of the hearse to allow them both to sit inside in the velvet lined booth. “Such visions. You are both to be belles of the ball.” It wasn’t a ball, but the Doctor was enjoying being flowery in his speech. When both were seated he closed the door with a gentle click, before turning around and about to bellow for Igor again. Thankfully, the hunchback appeared. He was wearing top hat and tails, with shiny shoes. Small spectacles completed the ensemble. if only he wore a smile.

“I look…re – dick – u – lous.” The hunchback stammered. Igor grimaced and dawdled over to the car. The Doctor would have none of the bad vibes to spoil the night, and slapped the hunchback on the back. “Get in the back and we be off. Just think….all those diamond dogs wanting a bit of that hump…huh?” The Doc wiggled his brow. Igor let out a sigh, since he really didn’t like girls at all.

With a loud roar, the roadster pulled out of the lab garage, and off into the night.





One Night Only – SS.


Scene setting : Bandit & Raul’s Room.

co-written with Artie.


Artie:  For the beginning of the ride, Bandit had mumbled muffled obscenities at the warlock.. though as time progressed she would soon fall prey to slumber, encased in bodily warmth. She slept, but far from soundly. It was as though every few moments the little thief would twitch, her hands moving to cover the rest of her body as a small noise of yearning slipped through – occasionally, as Raul knew from her stay at his palace – she would speak.

“Nn..” It was a moan, her head lulling to the side as her arms tightened on her femininity, holding it in.. “Ah..” The thief gasped, her thighs pressing tightly together as though a hand was between them, despite her own hand covering the front of her womanhood.. Clearly, her dream was something of a recollection. “Please.. more..” These words would come out a few moments after the rest, her brows furrowing.. It was intriguing to hear this, as the subconscious would speak now… was this truly what she’d longed for? A slight curl of the toes would answer this question as the blonde’s head turned to be against Raul’s side, her sleeping and naked form burning next to him..

It was perhaps worse because of how used she looked, the drying of her juices and his own along her upper thighs and legs, the blood around her neck from his bite and the copper color as it’d begun to dry..



The Warlock kept his eyes on the skies as they rode on from the darkened ally towards the nearest brothel. Since the Warlock viewed Bandit as being a whore, what better place to have her kept than instead of in his own house. Raul had been through that before in the real world, here….he rather be free of having to watch her 24/7. The ride was an interesting one. Bandit falling asleep, but not before mumbling obscenities at him. Even at her lowest point, she still put up a fight. She was however in a situation where she said one thing, yet her body did another. Raul would realize that she was insatiable. One fuck just wasn’t enough, and with her hand moving down to her swollen woman hood, and her guttural moans practically begging for his attentions, he was now starting to wonder if he should oblige her. The whispered words of “please more..” had the Warlock raise a brow, as the cool of the night breeze teased and played with Bandit’s hair as they neared their destination. He thought for a moment. Should he?

The carpet flew around the building of the main brothel house and came into land, but as it did so, the Warlock levitated off the carpet with Bandit held in his arms. He kept her head to his chest, as the carpet de-materialized and vanished with a light pop. The Warlock strode in the front doors, only to be met by the Brothel madame.

“One of your girls I have found in an alley. She needs to be cleaned and set on one of your beds for me. I shall pay well for this service, as I wish to enjoy her for the eve.” He tossed the Brothel owner a bag of gold, as he passed her, and she directed him to one of the suites. Within the room was a service girl, who got a wash basin ready as the Warlock laid Bandit down and started to remove the rest of her clothes. The girl used a sponge and scented water to clean Bandit as she continued to slumber, and when finished, she trundled the wash cabinet out of the room, leaving the Warlock alone with her once more.

Her hair was brushed out and fanned her face, to create an image that was almost holy. Almost. her body was now moving, writhing about the bed, her desire still not yet sated. The Warlock removed his clothes slowly, as no doubt she was still mumbling and begging him to finish her. With her upper body laying on a hill of cushions, the Warlock parted her legs slowly, with all the skill of an Master lover, and started a trail of kisses that worked their way up to the sweet place between her thighs. He was much more gentle at this point, since she was asleep. Within her mind it was anyone’s guess what she could see, but her eyelids would flutter as she went through a stage of rapid eye movement.

Laying fully on the large bed, the Warlock then lowered his head between her legs, and the next thing she would feel, was the teasing presence of his tongue, as it delicately would seek to probe her inner lips. His hands would rest upon her hips and then it was up to her to use her hands to guide his head as she saw fit.





Under usually circumstances, Bandit was a fairly light sleeper.. but in her drunken state and sleepless nights, as well as physical exertion.. she was so deeply in sleep that she barely stirred. This is not to say her eyes would not flutter open partly, only to close once more…

Holy, yes.. The sandy blonde tresses crowned her head, darkening her skin in comparison.. her brows furrowed, though her face relaxed, giving her naturally pouted lips a more emphasized look. Slowly, her chest would rise and fall, the single candle flickering in the dark room.. it threw off a shadow of her shape, the silhouette of her perked breasts and slim stomach beside her on the bed, as though laying next to her.. The gentle curve of her sides.. one arm lay on her stomach as though a mother might to protect her womb, the other up and into her hair. Long and strong legs moved slowly, thighs rubbing together a bit as her knees were bent slightly, cutting the slightly cold air.. Her body itself would radiate heat, soft mumblings coming from the sleeping figure, nearly comprehensible.. but only due to their tone of need, the slightly raised pitch of voice..

A flutter of eyelids as the warlock spread her legs, revealing her arousal.. he moved slowly so as to not rouse her to the point of awakening. A soft noise and a further mumble would greet his actions, her knees attempting to rub together once more but finding themselves to be pushed away from one another.. It was impossible to know what she dreamt, her words giving no clue to her settings or surroundings.. A gasp. One that sounded almost as though she’d wakened, her muscles clenching against the surprising feel of the hot breath the warlock emitted against her sex.. The air thickened around them to an extent, toes curling..

“Mm..” It was a lower noise that would find its way through the female’s chest, as she would suck on her lip.. Her body would stretch, squirming a bit but slowly in doing so.. The hand once on her stomach slowly trailed down her stomach, moving blindly until it found a long tress of his hair, tugging him closer to her.. Knees would move to face outwards, her legs bent a fair amount at this point to leave none to his imagination.. A noise of her liquids would come with this.. if she had been awake she would have been embarrassed.. Yet her body was so instantly ready for him, beckoning he go once more.. Goosebumps formed all along her skin, her nipples perking further to be solid nubs.. A soft sigh, the movement of eyes under lids. The unconditioned body was a needy one..

Razorbackwriter:  It was not the best room in the town, far from it. Far too cramped and there was very little in the way of furnishings. No paintings on the walls, not ornate furniture. Just a large king sized bed and duchess with a long floor standing mirror. This was angled in such a way that it reflected the goings on on the bed – not that Bandit would see any of this. The Warlock had chosen his moment wisely. The girl in the deepest of slumber from which it would be hard to awaken. What was a dream and what was reality? In Bandit’s drunken state the real and the fantasy would blur and she may well not even be aware when she woke up of what the Warlock was about to do to her.

Only a single candle illuminated the setting and this in itself created even more shadows than if there had been rows of them.

The Warlock was a Master in more ways than one. Not only had he mastered the art of illusions and magic, he studied on how to give pleasure and how to receive. What he was able to do, was treat a woman as though she was a finely tuned instrument. Fingers that moved with a delicate sense of care – when the mood hit him, which was rare. Usually one that took what he wanted and forcefully, this was a complete turn around but Raul had his reasons for this most intimate of moments. He planned for her to remember this though not by conscious thought, but that it would be in her dreams. In a way, she would never be able to forgive herself, or him for this act. What is worse….he was going to make sure she remembered ever lick, every touch as though her skin was seared by a heated flame.

Already Bandit was arching her back, her bright pink nips standing to attention upon rounded mounds that rose and fell with the increased pace of the beating of her heart. If a bird, she would be singing the most beautiful of songs. Instead there was no sound aside from the low noise that came from her lips. Submission – mixed with cravings of the flesh.

Like a rose that was greeting the sun in the morn, she opened herself. Legs well apart – knees splayed in welcome. The glorious bubbling of her juices that met with the Warlock’s tongue. Each drop treasured as he poked at her lips with the very tip, to tease her into further release. Her slender digits wandered down past her stomach and now caught into his tresses – curling them into locking onto tufts that she would pull. Though her eyes were not yet open, she instinctively knew where she wanted him to be. Deeper. So much deeper. He would of course oblige. Raul’s hot breath warming her ripe and blooded flesh all the more.

Raul’s hand snaked up the side of her. Following her hourglass shape. Ripples of goosebumps met his finger tips and he played with this. His digits pressing along like he was playing a piano till he reached the rise of her mound of pink flesh. Thumb and forefinger pinched the waiting nub that was erect to his attentions. Wanting.

The Warlock remained silent. Giving no clue of who was doing these acts. Eventually though, she would remember.

Raul delved past the point of no return, his tongue now pushing through her folds and now flicking in and out so to press against her inner muscles. Cat like almost, he teased and flicked. Prodding and retracting as she fell into a dizzying abyss of pleasure.




Artie:  Soft gasps would greet Raul’s inching fingers, a slightly sharper one pushing at her chest as the nub on her breasts was pinched. To this she would feel a shock, the cold of his fingers against her hot skin creating a tugging feeling above her navel.. The other hand that did not grip at his tresses instead reached for her own breasts, placing itself over his grip and digging her nails in slightly.. as though urging him onwards, trying to grab at the item that gave her such shivers.. It was much like seeking the familiar hand in a sea of strangers, grappling blindly.

A true noise, however, came from her lips when his tongue flicked at her sex, creating a light lapping noise that she could not hear. “Ohnn..” Low. It was a sound purely from instinct, a total reflex at the waves of pleasure that had begun to suddenly roll over the female.. A burning feeling had come over her core, conflicting with the cold air that caressed her flaming form..


Riley.. Oh..” Bandit groaned, gripping at her lover’s hair.. He was her first lover, the man who held her heart.. and would ultimately shatter it.. but she did not think of this now. This dream splayed into reality, the feelings far too strong to be fantasy.. The blonde gazed down at the male, slipping a hand into his hair and pulling him against her..

He would respond with a sort of held-back eagerness, as though he was teasing her by holding back as the act itself.. The burning feel of his tongue on her fairly warm folds brought another groan to her lips, bubbling from the surface and splaying into the air..

Orgasm sprang up on her, encasing her in its warmth and electrifying her center, burning her slowly from her beginnings as she unraveled..


Quick movements of her chest. The blond breathed shallowly, crying out loudly.. the curvature of her spine would increase as she rolled back her shoulders, tilting her head into the pillows and moaning out incomprehensible words.. Her womanhood would clench and unclench around him, liquid spurting slightly and then leaking from her..

The thighs of the woman would tremble around Raul’s head, legs shaking as a terribly hard climax racked through her body in delicious waves.. “Oh!” Bandit’s eyes blinked open, yet the scene remained the same from that in her dream.. A queen bed beneath her, red sheets that were embedded with markings rough beneath her bare skin.. An overhang from the bed, a nightstand to her right.. The moon the only light in the room as it would pour through the darkwood windows..

“Riley…” Bandit breathed, looking down at the red-haired man beneath her legs, a content sigh slipping through her lips.. She would comb through his hair with a loving intent, running her fingers through the tresses.. “This dream is so good.. I don’t want it to end..” Little did she know she was awake.. Her normally clear and icy blue eyes appeared foggy as she gazed at the warlock, imagining him as her old partner in crime..


Razorbackwriter:  ~The Dream~


The name of another man came from Bandit’s lips as she was in the throes of a glorious orgasm. This man, another lover from another time and yet the thought that he was the one making love to her had her react so intensely that even the Warlock was surprised. The Warlock raised a brow, as he continued to enjoy the taste of Bandit’s release, but his ears burned. Raul was meeting her needs above his own, and yet here she was – writhing in spectacular fashion with that name being said breathlessly. Anyone that could tame the wild cat that was Bandit must be worthy of her, the Warlock thought. Feeling her slender digits wind their way through his own hair as she betrayed herself and spoke that the dream was so good, had the Warlock decide to make the dream very real. More real than she was probably ready for. If he appeared in her mind to be Riley, then that was the mask he would wear as he raised the bar.

Gently, the Warlock removed his hand from her swollen bosom, and used it by placing it on the bed to help him move upwards towards her. A slight gust of wind would cause the candle light to flicker, but in this moment the appearance of the Warlock changed to that of the man in her dream. He rose up so he was now looking down at her. Their faces barely inches apart. She would see Riley as she cast her clouded eyes upward at him. Seeing his lips and nose wet from having been so intimate with her. Bandit’s scent mixing with his own masculine one.

“It doesn’t have to end you know, kid?.” The dark voice said. His hair now a dark red, so unlike that of the Warlock’s. “It’s been too long. But…..” His lips would press with hers, while his tongue flicked against hers. It had been too long. Riley was the one and only man that Bandit ever loved, ever counted on. Only in her dreams could he exist because in reality, as far as she knew he was dead.

Suddenly, the Warlock’s expression changed as he felt that he had already conquered her body and marked her again in the alley. Here, she had experienced a joyful and fulfilling moment, where she believed it was Riley that had committed the act. Not her most hated enemy.

Slowly he pulled back from Bandit as she lay there, spent. Raul slid off the bed, but still appeared to be Riley. Slowly he dressed himself, as he hummed a tune that only Riley would have ever sung for her. Would she remember?

Standing dressed, he then tossed a small bag of coins on the bed and remarked coolly. “That should cover the room.”Riley was leaving her again.

Without looking back, he walked out of the room and shut the door with a soft click. Whistling as he went down the stairs, his appearance changed to that of the Warlock once more and he nodded to the Brothel Madame.

“Delightful as always.”

He then headed out into the night.



Artie:  For a moment, she was flying. The female would entwine her hands into Riley’s hair, tugging ever so softly to pull his lips to hers.. She did not care for their mixed scents, only taking in his own.. “… But..” At this Bandit would arch a brow, her hands falling from his hair and sliding to his shoulders. “‘But?'” She would repeat, her expression changing as he slowly pulled away..

That should cover the room.” Her face hardened as he tossed the coin purse next to her, her jaw locking. Riley would never have done such a thing.. what twisted nightmare was this? Slowly she would move to be under the covers, ignoring the uncomfortable feel along her body.. surely this was not real… though it certainly felt it..

The woman wrapped her arms around her chest, on her side in the fetal position.. what the hell had just happened..?

It was thirty minutes before her eyes would lull closed, her mind unsure as to why she had yet to wake from this nightmare, the stabbing pains of Riley’s disinterest coursing through her veins..

She awoke, a disgusted look immediately flickering onto her face at the odd feeling between her legs.. But more importantly, she looked shocked.. What was the coin purse doing here? Was she still sleeping? Bandit would stand, walking to the wash pot and beginning to scrub herself..

The blonde walked to the closet and dressed, memories of the previous day causing a scowl to light her features.. it was all so blurry.. but how had she ended up here, naked? What had happened? Why did she have a dull ache on her neck and in her nether regions?

Oh, the poor soul.. she could not even recall that the dreaded warlock resided in Hell with her..

Leaving the coins on the bed, Bandit would walk out of the room, staggering a bit from her beginning headache..




Two red roses – GS.


Scene setting : Back streets of New York.

co-written with Chor.


Taking a cab across town, Frank stopped at a curb side flower stand. Paying the driver, he got out of the cab and then went to buy two roses. He handed over the ten dollar bill and took the two long stemmed roses from the florist, who asked if they were for the detective’s favorite lady. Frank coughed a laugh as though he might humor the florist into thinking they were, but he was too shy to say. The truth however, was far different. Taking out a dark pair of shades; he placed them on and crossed the street to the alley where Rory…was killed. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one that he knew, he walked down the bin lined small alley all the way to the last place where he saw his best friend and his partner alive.

There was no blood stain, no evidence of a man having died on this spot but to Frank it was burnt into his mind like it was yesterday. Kneeling down, Frank placed the two red roses on the ground – crouching for a moment as he said to himself a silent prayer. His right hand came up and partially touched his lips as though to stop himself from blurting something out that may be heard. You never knew who was watching. Eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, he paused there for a good two minutes or so, before slowly rising up to standing. He gave the area one last look around. A large lump formed in his throat as he fought to suppress the wave of feelings that were ripping through him.

Then without warning he screamed.


He was answered only by silence.




Isa still had barely snapped into reality as she pushed her small wad of cash through the dirty, clouded slot to the bearded cabbie with teeth like jelly bellys. He tipped his hat and turned, waiting for her to exit. Yes, exit. The worn, cool door handle made a click as the door unlatched from its body and she exerted just enough force to make herself leave the vehicles warm interior. The cabbie rolled down all the windows, for no other reason than to shout inaudible advice and wish her good luck when she closed the door gently behind her.

Smoke clouded the road behind her, some of it billowing up to her nostrils, where her lungs lapped it ungratefully. The poison, though, was ignored. Her focus rested solely on the man at the flower stand. He bought flowers, a gesture Isa didn’t quite understand yet. She let her gaze follow him until he was just nearly out of sight and then she walked.

“Care for a rose, dove?” The florist sang to her, his voice sweet like honey. A thought appeared. Isa wondering how many years it took him to perfect such an inviting and charming tone. She looked at him, eyes lightly narrowed, and nodded. In his hands he held not a red rose, nor was it of any colour. It was completely devoid of and vivid variation of the rainbows skeleton hues. White. Such a pure, simple thing, she felt a knot in her stomach just gazing upon it. Maybe this was hunger, but she felt this pain differently, in a more emotional sense. She gave him all that he asked for and caressed the rose as she headed off in the direction Frank had disappeared a moment earlier.

After a short minute that felt like a century of never ending searching, Isa almost died internally, thinking she’d lost him. If he was truly to disappear, she might never get the chance to finish this. Across the street from her, a voice was found. The voice ripped her soul to pieces, shattering her well-built nonchalant disposition. Why couldn’t you have taken me? Isa’s brain exploded with memories of Claura, small tears beading in her eyes and traveling the distance of her face to fall onto her jacket.

Every single day for days, months, even years, Isa asked herself that question. She would have given anything for it to be her instead of Claura. Her older sister was taken from Isa and she cried to herself every day that she would one day figure out what had happened. This man’s pain was tangible as she absentmindedly crossed the street. She was quiet coming up on him, holding the white rose in her right hand very lightly, as if just by breathing she might ruin the innocence it exuded.

Then, as if suddenly a rope was removed from her throat, Isa spoke,
“I’ve learned the walls don’t tell you what you did wrong; why you’re left and they’ve gone. They only stare back as you bitterly retreat into yourself. They sit silently as your tears turn to acid and your life falls to shambles.They don’t whisper that there was no suffering; there is no reassurance that everything will be okay. Nothing is okay, because I’ll never know.

Isa tiptoed to Frank’s side, crouching to lay the ethereal white rose atop his two red ones.

“I’m so sorry.”


Razorbackwriter:  ~The Day you went away~



Frank’s body was practically rigid. He had not expected a voice. He had not expected her. Behind the dark shades his pupils dilated and his chin wobbled slightly as he fought back the tears. Men don’t cry, right? For so long nothing made sense. Like a white rat trapped in an endless maze with no way out except the lonely nights at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. That numbed the pain, if only for a short time. He could forget it all, and even who he was. But sobering up brought him back to the stark reality and the cycle would begin again. Isa was right. Frank had retreated into himself. The former family man, loving husband and dedicated detective – partner…all that was a bitter memory now. He was a shell…an empty vessel. Sure, he could be funny and make you smile, but within himself he found so little to smile about.

Why was it he could hear the deafening sound of his own heart beat, as though it was right in his ears? Why was this ache twisting his very insides? Frank blinked a few times to quell those tears as he heard Isa say she was so very sorry. As she lay a white rose beside the two red ones that were now resting together on the ground, Frank brought his face around to see Isa’s. For a moment, his face was like stone. Mixed emotions were hard for a man to deal with. He had told her to forget him. To let him walk away. Yet she followed him here to this…most sacred of places. It was where Rory’s life ended….and in a sense, Frank’s as well. It was the reason for the two roses. One for each of the two men.

Frank turned his head away for a moment and coughed, as thought he words he wanted to say were caught in his throat. The detective sniffed loudly – a sign that he was racked with emotion.

“I’m…..trying to make sense of it all. How one single moment can have such a terrible affect on every other facet of my life. If I could go back, if I could….” his voice trailed away into a soft whisper.

When Frank went to look at Isa, she would see a face that had stared back at her on many a day and night. That same sorrow, etched into the lines of his face. Loss, regret….guilt. We can torture ourselves far worse than anyone else ever could.




Chor:  Raw; the only word that could describe this moment. The alley was filled and overflowed with pure, unadulterated, raw emotion.

Isa stared into Franks eyes as if his face were a mirror in which she saw wholly herself. It was impossible to look away, now, as the emotion sucked her up. This black hole she’d tried so desperately to hide behind her antisocial, dark, and cold facade now leaked out of her; her pores oozing this deep sadness that she never let seethe light. Isa’s hands came up to meet Frank Malone’s face and pulled it near hers, so that their foreheads were almost where skin met skin. Her thumb reached to where a small, ashamed tear had escaped and wiped it from his kind face.

If only is a suicidal lullaby; it’s a flame, it is all consuming and it will kill you if you let it,” she whispered seriously to him, her words accented with sternness. The words she spoke were truer than most likely any she’d even spoken in her days on this planet. Isa’s months of ‘what if’ s and ‘if only’ s had taken her down to a level she hoped to never reach again. As she spoke these words, liquid bubbled in her tear ducts and the tears threatened revolt against her now dry cheeks.

The journey is not yet over; you must be strong for him,” Isa persuaded, pointing at the roses as they sat wilting slowly on the filthy alley floor.

And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.


Razorbackwriter:  How long had it been since he had felt the gentle touch of a woman’s hands upon his skin? He couldn’t even remember. But in this moment where both Isa and Frank were kindred spirits – both having loved and lost. Frank was practically transfixed by Isa’s words. They were comforting in a strange way. Those nights where he had taken sleeping pills and drank a sizable amount of vodka all in the aid of never waking again. You could call it a low moment. A time when he had lost all faith. It was friends like Tommy that was always there when he was at his lowest. Offering him a helping hand. They fought like cats and dogs half the time, but the mate ship….that was true.

Frank let his head fall into Isa’s hands and then their foreheads met finally. He could smell her sweet scent permeate through his nostrils as he closed his eyes and simply let himself be held. Was it a sign of weakness to give in so easily? To not fight her off and walk away from everything? No. For once in his life Frank listened. This girl was wiser in her years than any other he had met, and while they had not ever been seriously close before, they were soul mates of this moment. Sharing a bond through loss. The journey was not over. She was right. Frank, was trying to lay it all to rest as he was about to leave once and for all. Beaten. But Isa, in her inspiring words roused in him the spirit that he had thought died long ago.

“And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.”

Frank raised a hand and removed his glasses so she could see the glistening of his eyes as they captured her own. Lifting his face from her hands, he then leaned in to kiss her forehead. Little did she know…..she had just stopped him from doing the unthinkable.

“Rory would have loved you, you know? Always had a thing for stubborn gals.” A hint of smile tweaked the corner of his lips.




Chor:  Isa watched as his face told tales of his brain. He was reliving dark nights, as she often did, reminiscing unfortunately on hours spent pondering over mathematical equations to see just how much potassium chloride it would take for a woman of her height and weight. Isa’s mind justified these almost self-mortifying moments as she daily starved herself of both food and of human interaction for no other reason than to bury herself in her work as completely as a tick. Alcohol was the least of her poison intake. She was never really a drinker; that was Claura.

Finally, the rigid statue that was Frank melted into Isa’s embrace and in seeing his eyes she knew she’d stopped him from making a grave mistake. As she looked, though, she now saw understanding where there was only pain. The chains which bound him for so very long had retreated from their death-grip, allowing him breath and clarity. The kiss to her forehed was warm and kind and the thanks that came from it diffused through her skin and lit her aflame. The tears that followed in her own ducts came as he spoke. A light chuckle accompanied it as she looked to the ground to let the tears go.

Isa couldn’t dispute his words. She was stubborn, born with a drive that saw no end in sight. Without a doubt, Claura would have adored this man. Save for Frank, Claura may have been the only good cop in the whole station before her disappearance. They would have made a great team; maybe unstoppable. Isa now can only hope to do this for him. She’s not a cop, granted, but she is far more helpful in many other ways.


Razorbackwriter:  It was only at the end of his own tears that Frank was able to see clearly that his words had a marked affect on Isa. She was crying. A flood like release of her own that had Frank tilt his head slightly. Both of them had been keeping all this sadness and longing for understanding tied up within themselves that neither had had the chance to grieve what they had lost aside from those they loved. Themselves. It was almost instinct what Frank did next. Unexpectedly, he kissed away the falling tears that burnt her flesh. His lips tender to her cheeks till all the tears were gone. It was a gentle action, one that was probably saved for a lover. How he hated to see a woman cry. Even though these were tears were long overdue.

Frank wrapped his arms around Isa gently and brought her in for an embrace, his hand moving to the back of her head as he stroked her head gently. Allowing her to nestle her cheek to his chest. It’s surprising how something like a hug can bring us such warmth and peace. It was instinct. Natural and needed.

“Some tough cops we are. Heh.”

His words were not poetic or romantic. Just saying the first thing that popped into his head.

For the first time in ages, a real smile was on his face. Not forced, or painted. An inner warmth was spreading through out him. Isa would yet to realize what she had done for him. The roses lay upon the dirty ground at their feet, and already the wind was starting to peel back the petals. Frank had just let Rory go. Now it was time to save himself. Releasing Isa slowly, he said.

“Never thought I would be fighting crime within my own office.”






The Bush Post – Back and ready to write!

Hi guys!


I’ve just returned from my vacation to the coast and I can honestly say while I enjoyed the sun and surf, I missed my computer.  I did manage to read the three Fifty Shades novels while I was away, and while that fueled my imagination, its not the same as writing your own stories.  One thing I realized however as I took my summer break was that I have so many stories that I want to tell, and hopefully this will be my year to branch out and start my first novel.  I have a few plot ideas in my head, but I want to get down the skeletons on paper and really think about the characters I want to use.  In the meantime, I will be posting more from the Gantz series, along with the Seven Sins.  For those that follow the adventures of the Detective; Frank Malone and Tommy Xo, the reporter – there is a lot coming up that is both emotionally charged stories and features some sexy scenes.  ~Grins~

Hope you and yours had a great New Years and that you will share my love of writing and music in 2015!