OUR “ELLE OF THE BALL” – Lust, Love & Mayhem At The 2003 Republican Fundraiser… (Book #3: Abridged Soft-Edit Edition)…

“Elle Of The Ball” notoriously became the “RUNAWAY LOVER OF THE YEAR’ that infamous night—amongst all the millionaire/billionaire donors; “pomp & circumstance!” She could run to the ends of the earth—-yet it would not have been far enough—-because Mr. Segretti Inc would not stop until she was his, and of course….safe and secure.



Round and round and round we go…if you waltz your girl around the hall…then you’ll see that she is…the Belle Of The Ball! (From The Movie The Harvey Girls)

No couple, or lovers rather, enjoyed the Latin Sway; Tango; Foxtrot; and Walt quite like Mr. Dominick and his Lady Elle! The two lovers fit into one another like the proverbial “hand in a glove.” All the while onlookers marveled as they swooned with approval. However—-it is said by many a polite societies…. that “The Mass Of Men Live Lives Of Quiet Desperation” (Thoreau). Perhaps within one of the lovers their desperation could no longer remain silent!


On an, unusually, warm Saturday night in January of 2003 Mr. Dominick Radiccio Segretti (Esquire)—now turned political philanthropist—-hosted Georgia’s Republican Gubernatorial Fundraiser—-at his breathtaking Johns Creek estate. The Lord of the manner, so to speak, hosted this wondrous event that, particular night, under a moon that was full and filled with endless possibilities (donations—donations— donations) . Little could he have known the wonders that were about to unfold in the later part of this glamourous event. No…Dominick—The Dapper Don”—as many of his southern cohorts duly named him—-stood on the side curb; statuesque; astute; sexy; and rather impatient in his Armani Tux. The gentleman posted himself there, anxiously, awaiting a special arrival (one of the most illusive love of his life). The host and philanthropic billionaire was waiting for one of the most nortorious and intriguing mistresses he had ever encountered in his lifetime of courtships. He was awaiting his notorious—- Mistress Elle, truth be known. The tardy Southern Belle was fashionably late on purpose. She loved the way The Don waited for her with unbridled anticipation to those events—often held at his estate. Her limo pulled up to the curb directly in front of the gettie gent—-just in a nick of time. Before the chauffer could exit his vehicle…it was too late—the Don was on the job. Mr. Inpatient swung the door open, poked his head inside slightly saying not a word. Donald Ray just smiled and winked at his stunning mistress— affording the elegant lady a few moments to gather her sable mink stole; diamond studded clutch; and pearled opera length white gloves. “You are always late to my events Mademoiselle—and on purpose, of course!” The elegant and excited beauty looked over towards him swiftly—–only to glare directly into his steel and slate blue eyes with a smile— that could stop rush hour traffic at Lenox on Friday! The Don was beyond elated. It really didn’t bother him, all that much, because he knew his nortorious lady Ellle. She had to make her debut for those who didn’t know her: and a grand entrance for the guess who did. The lovely southern belle (Elle) emerged from the far side of the limo straight into the Dapper Don’s arms—-as a small kiss on the lips accompanied her. Oblivious to the fact—-Elle and Don began strutting down the estates enchanted walkway as if they owned the night—unwise to the fact that the night’s mischievousness would own them both—-before its all said and done. However, they were living in their moment of, utter, enchantment—-not fate nor destiny dared to disrupt the Dapper Don or his “Elle of the Ball.”

Caution was tossed to the wind the moment the starry eyed lovers locked arms. Elle gazed giddily at Donald Ray, because his face was lit up like the “Chinese New Year”…no kidding. “You know Donald Ray, you charming devil you…your ass is just too damn sexy…in that Armani Tux! The Don chuckled with utter delight—just knowing his Mistress was as taken, as he was. Within a twenty-five minute window—-Elle and Don entered his estate, mixed and mingled with guess in a forward like motion (they were literally sprinting)—making their way through the crowd of high dollar donors, career politicians, and of course, social climbers (new money). It didn’t take the lady and gent long to cross the crowded dance floor ;where the orchestra played loudly above the crowd. “Hun…can you slow down a bit”—Elle yelled in his ear with her cupped and covered opera gloved hand. “We have the entire night to make our way across this damn ballroom”…she chuckled slightly in his ear. Don carried on with the mission and journey—manners and protocol be damned! He never wavered in his determination to get Elle to a more intimate location on his estate, that night.

Suddenly the Don turned into her—- grabbed her by the waste—-and began to spin and twirl her in the direction of the terrace doors. “Damn girl….you look like old money tonight beautiful!” Elle bowed her head in a soft curtsey; as she laid her head with auburn laced tresses; slightly on his broad and brawny shoulders. Very surreptitiously—the Dapper Don led his beautiful mistress down his estate’s stunning and manicured garden path: which led to his mansion’s solarium. A few minutes earlier—-the two lovers, waltzed gracefully around and across the dance floor; as the tunes of the “Blue Danube” furtively directed their feet from the ballroom to the patio: virtually without noticed. This all took place in the middle of a Republican fundraiser’s pomp and circumstance; at the political operative’s estate; that New Year’s starry night. He did not mind that many of his male donators, to the cause, were as smitten by his mistress as himself. Truth be known—he reveled in the fact! However, at that moment, his primary objective was to waltz Elle to the estates solarium, with as little notice as possible, and as swiftly as their feet would carry them both!

The gentleman was on a secret mission that peculiar night. He had to get her to that chaise lounge where he would own all of her attention, thus igniting a vigorous debate on how they were to move forward in the future. He knew once he accomplished this task it would be his “moment of truth”──Elle, he felt, was better handled when caught off guard. When it came to Elle, Don dropped everything…and I mean everything…for her attention and affections! No other woman could command his heart, in that particular manner—suffice it say—this woman just had this extraordinary and powerful alluring quality about her. Very few men could resist this attribute in her. Needless to say, the Lady Elle was that quintessential “it girl”! She simply had a way about her that commanded men’s hearts, and intelligence…for that matter. They all loved it! The Dapper Don would be no exception to this rule: no matter how much he loved and endeared this striking and very peculiar creature!

Elle—of course—at times pretended to be oblivious to this fact. Still—she adored him as well, though she would never fully admit it openly. This southern belle, and or, “iron magnolia” had a very odd manner about her. Her disposition was not negative, but just different and strange to those outside their tiny social circle of die hard friends, so to speak. Certain traditions Elle held in the highest of regard. And she would never concede on these traditions just for a man’s affections—no matter how far they dared to push the envelope with one another. Oh, she loved men…very much! However, ideally, suitors that captivated her interest were of a special caliber.Elle cared less if they were blue collar or white collar: but they must have southern traditional qualities that only a gentleman of good and proper breeding could possess—there was no in between! The Dapper Don fit the bill too fold! He was not only a southern gentleman and scholar, but a rogue and brut—who loved tip toeing with natives from the wrong side of the tracks. Mistress Elle ate that up, because she learned so much from him, and about life, love, and business.

Don had this beguiling “school boyish charm” that Elle found magnetically enticing──coupled with his Kentucky drawl. In many ways, the two were perfectly matched, but in other ways, the two lovers clashed liked two titans. What could you expect from two “Scorpio’s”──okay besides the heated magnetism? Don could have cared less! This beautiful Mistress was his for the taking and he would have her lock, stock, and barrel──or not all──the latter was not an option for consideration. However, on that particular night the beautiful swan (Elle) decided to open the gates of the “ice palace” (her heart) and allow her beau, of the moment, to enter it without incident. Little could she have known, by nights end, how that ice palace of hers would be spun into a total nuclear level melt down! She simply glided down that garden path completely oblivious of the mental and emotional peril awaiting her. Their bond and trust between one another was about to be place under the microscope—and the litmus test, as well!

The two lovers continued on the gracious walk through the night: entangled mentally and physically with one another, yet, trying desperately to keep a safe distance emotionally—which was nearly impossible. What a sight to see, two lovers who felt they had control of destiny. Yet and still—together they were like two magnets. The couple would be forever drawn to each other, but they would never ever stick quite they way the two wanted. There was just far too much sparring power and control from both sides. Realistically, there would never be an acceptable balance from either OCD neurotic. I think deep down in places these two “control freaks” will never admit existed, Don and Elle weren’t as oblivious as they would have liked outsiders to believe. This explains why the Lady seem to of concede to many of his charades—one could only guess. Like “Maggie the Cat” curiosity always got the better of her ambivalence. Especially…when it came to the Dapper Don!

While wrapped tightly in Don’s arm, Elle walked slowly and proudly by his side. This woman walked with a stellar glide down that garden path──she seem to glide in the air—in her black satin Versace gown: accompanied by her favorite perfume (Killians…Dangerous Liaisons) which filled the air with quite an enigmatic and spellbinding aroma. One would swear the very fragrance itself took on a life of its own—either way—Don’s will always gave way to it. Moreover, you knew his Mistress suspected as much, herself! She often remarked to the Dapper Don that she wore the scent just to drive him wild with desire──hell it worked! His will power literally drowned itself in it!

No one needed to tell this neurotic beauty that she looked beautiful: you could look at those sparkling deep chocolate eyes of hers, and naturally full ruby red lips,and tell she not only knew it—but she also chose to flaunt it! There was not a,would be, suitor in Elle’s tight circle who endeared this revelation more than the Dapper Don, himself. Many close to him swore he undressed his Mistress every time she entered the room, or his personal space…well…I would gesture to say…his colleagues and wealthy donors did, as well. Elle and Don wasn’t new to the game…they were true to the game! If beauty and enticement turned on and turned up the Dapper Don—-Elle used it to her advantage at every turn. It was the ties that would come to bind them.

As Don continued to lead his darling beauty further down the moon and star lit path, he would steal subtle kisses here and there: on the back of hand, her soft perfumed shoulder, even the nape of her narrow neck, ever so subtlety. Elle would only smile, cringe with absolute glee, and return the gestures. You could hear the couple laughing and cooing at one another’s jokes, and light teasing. Neither of the two gave notice to the on lookers, as the couple swiftly glided up to the garden’s tranquil waterfalls: the waters coolness was not only soothing but mesmerizing! The two lovers strolled hand in hand, as if they were the only people on the grounds—totally blacking out any would be voyeurs—of course.

Finally, Don and his Mistress reached the entrance of the his enormous solarium. The lady stopped to look him eye to eye. She said not a word, at first, only raised the back of his large hand to stroke the side of her face with it softly. “Well”…she asked softly. “Will you please lead the way”? I have never been inside…you have only afforded me two opportunities to admire the greenery from the lover’s bench there to the side of the door.” The spellbound southern gentleman smiled slightly: smirking with joy. “Well…we will just have to change that tonight…now won’t we”—he recanted with his deep, proper, and wealthy Kentucky drawl. That gentleman knew how to stroke her modesty. And he was relentless with it!


Suddenly, Don cupped her chin, kissed her softly on the lips, and swiftly scooped her off her feet. He opened the door, and raced through it, as if he were carrying his new bride over the threshold for the first time. Once inside, he began to walk slowly towards the beautifully gilded gold and ivory chaise lounge where he cleverly placed her by the exotic indoor fishpond: where the fish seemed to danced inside of it. He laid her backwards on the lounge, and centered the patient beauty comfortably in place. As she pulled herself together, Don sat beside her, and began to slowly lock his fingers in her beautiful auburn tresses. She, in turn, slowly stroked his curly black locks. Don and Elle glared at one another eye to eye again, instead of kissing again the lovers began to exchange coy little smirks. “Donald hun…what is it darling…that you want from me?” His Mistress knew she had to ask the question, or bust. Her curiosity was getting the very best of her. Before he could respond she kissed him, giving way to his obvious nervousness. A true southern bell would have done nothing less. His eyes lit up, and he took in a long deep breath──knowing full well he had better choose his words carefully. “I want you right here with me tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after that.” A few seconds elapsed, but it may as well have been minutes! The look of a lost wounded child raced upon Don’s face immediately. He knew…that was it! He had just fucked it all up!

Elle jumped to her feet in total outraged: literally knocking the stunned gentleman to the floor! He was stunned and shocked by her reaction to his profession and desire to keep and make her a permanent part of his life. “Damn you Donald Ray—we had an agreement”! “You said nothing permanent and nothing serious”! Elle paced faster and faster half crazed and angered! “Don—why here—why now? She turned to him and began to scold him with her gloved fingers. “I will tell you why…goddammit──you tried to out flank me!” The bewildered gentleman starred at her like a wounded animal—not knowing what to say or do. She lifted her dress a little and began pacing from side to side even more—in appearance she looked like a darker version of Scarlet O’Hara. “You promised me…you promised me”…she yelled at him!” The Dapper Don lifted his arms towards her in an effort to calm and embrace his, now livid Mistress, but missed. He could only stand and take the defensive retort from his dearest Elle. “You promised me Donald Ray…you promised!”—her eyes clouded with hurt and tears. “Don’t you dare touch me…goddammit!”

Elle literally, sprinted back to the chaise lounge to gather her belongings, and her wrap. Undoubtedly, it was time for her to take an early exit from the event and estate! As she leaned over to gather her personal affects a hurtful pain hit her gut: weakened from the moment all she could muster to feel better was a simple gaspe. The dismayed beauty stood tall and statuesque and grabbed Donald Ray tightly by the hands and shook them tightly three or four times. “Not you…I never expected this from you!” Her voice cracked, and she could no longer speak with clarity or coherency. Don’s beautiful Mistress was becoming unglued and unraveled right before his eyes. He had no idea what the hell to make of it! “Baby…what the hell have I done to suborn such hysterics from you?” Suddenly, Elle went completely silent, as her body began to shake or quiver.

“I asked you not to put me on the spot…I need time…I need more time! Elle’s entire silhouette grew rigid—like a knife. “Ohhhh…you fucking Guys!” That woman had spun into quite frenzy: just like that! The beautiful raven, there before Donald Ray, was almost tempted to raised her hand to slap his face, but quickly came to her senses. The Dapper Don was not the type for that──his nickname was given to him for a reason. He was a New Yorker by birth, not a southerner—he would hit back—love, lust, or not! His beautiful Mistress, though stressed, had the wherewithal not to go there! Plus, she knew the goons who protected him were not far behind them.

By this time Don’s guests, who were along the garden path and playing around the waterfalls, could hear his Mistress yelling to the top of her lungs. He reached forward towards his love, and tried to calm her, but it was to no avail. “What is wrong with what I said”—he tried to whisper. “I love you, and you know I love you. What the hell is wrong with that—tell me now?” He grabbed her by the arms, as she tried to steer her body clear of his clutches. She missed…the Dapper Don’s grip was too strong, but this Mistress was no lightweight either—she managed to escape his strong clutched grip on her.

His bewildered lover took a few steps backwards: to allow enough verbal sparring space between she and Donald Ray. “I gotta go she said”—as she began to flee the premises Elle snatched the Harry Winston Sapphire and diamond necklace from her neck (it was given to her specifically for the evenings event). “Take back your trinkets…you do not own me!” She turned quickly towards the door, and attempted to run towards it. Just as she approached the end of the pond, Elle completely slipped and fell in. The onlookers, outside the garden path and waterfalls, were completely flabbergasted i.e. the Dapper Don included!

A very stunned and disoriented Dapper Don looked on helplessly. “OOOHHH….my god”! Those were the only words he could possibly muster. Of course, Shocked and horrified at what he had just witnessed. He knew she would be livid once she emerged from the water. Suffice it to say, rather instinctively, Don knew—that the waters from the pond were not enough to put out the fire of anger simmering in her soul! That coupled with her embarrassing moment could have set the entire world on fire, all by itself—literally! The moment Don dreaded most was now upon him. He realized how badly he had fucked up and hurtthat girl! From there the Mistress of his dreams would take only one recourse—she would run as far from him and his estate, as possible! However, badly he fucked up with her this time would be different. He would not allow her to run too far from his grasp. What ,ever, made him feel the stakes were in his favor on that night—-was anybody’s guess? Nonetheless, his Elle of ball….didn’t just simply take a fall earlier. The elegant beauty fell into a full on emotional meltdown (nuclear lever)! BLESS HER LITTLE SOUTHERN WHITE BREAD HEART!


“BABYGIRL COME AWAY WITH ME” – To A Place Of Majestic Sunsets, Spectacular Starry Skies & Breathtaking Sunrises ( Book #4 Abridged Excerpt)…

On a spring night in 2013—out apon the veranda of Del-Fresco’s in “Buckhead” Atlanta (the “Sex In The City” 3.0 utopia)—VP William “Cpt Billy” Giovanni Velichi waited anxiously…on the one!


“Just as a man could love a stretch of land as if he gave birth to it”—-so can a gentleman love and endear his Schooner (Yacht). That boat represents a psychological and philosophical of being. That state of being is his….”philosophy of life….which is simply—-“Quid Pro Quo (this for that)!”


One a spring night, in May of 2013 , William and Jean’ met for dinner—-at the beautiful and elegant Del Fresco’s restaurant. The swanky venue was chosen by William, himself. The gentleman wanted to surprise the unsuspecting beauty with a special dinner out for two. What better place than Del Fresco’s balcony—-at sunset—-in the happening; upscale; and romantic utopia of Atlanta (Buckhead)? The gentleman aimed for pure perfection, on that evening. Because looming in the aura of that balcony was his little hidden secret.


“AN UNFORGETABLE REPUBLICAN” – The Aquisition & Merger Of His “Untold “Wants”…

Walt Whitman said it best in one of his famous poems (“Untold Want”)—which goes a little something like this…”Untold want of life and land ne’er granted: now voyager—sail thou forth to seek and find.” It is a reflection of his life’s yearning and desire for a certain lack of fulfillment—the brilliant! Privately, however, this was believed to be the internal yearning by Whitman for a great deal of his, adult, life. Instead of giving up, or giving in—the gentleman made the decision to seek this illusive entity himself. Mr. Whitman, after all, was an incurable romantic.


Looking back—trough two life histories, it was abundantly clear that 2008 for both Stella and Stephan (two staunch neurotics) was frocked with utter turmoil—as with the rest of the world (that year no one was immune). The trails and tribulations of their life’s commitments, professional uncertainty, along with the crashing of Wall Street became and emotional and mental quagmire for both sides of the lovers lives. Moreover—the personal chaos, confusion, matrimonial obligations, and commitments with no solid pathway forward—became an unacceptability. Suffice it to say—“something had to give”, in reference to these two overachievers. Why—many have asked? The answer is so obvious—neither neurotic, so to speak, felt that he or she had accomplished their destinies in life—especially in their professional lives. Psychologically—Stephan and Stella, desperately, felt the need for more time to “make it happen” so to speak. At, particular juncture in their lives, it seemed nothing in their personal life’s history could ease or replace that level of yearning. Stephan and Stella reached their “vertical limit“. It was time to feast or famine—love and be loved—feel and breath in life, as their psyche’s imagined it. Clearly—the two lovers, unbeknownst, to one another set their expectations higher than normal, and nothing of this earth would hinder either party from fulfilling this life long yearning with them—-NOTHING!

You see—Stella and Stephan were successful, by others opinions and accounts (their colleagues and loved ones), however, in their eyes success was nothing…”personal greatness” and fiscal freedom was everything… or so they thought!” There would be no changing of those philosophies, within their psyche’. What harsh thought processes by two people who were so progressive in nature. Talk about over the top neurotics and existentialist! High strung, or not—all which they possessed in life—simply was not enough—to fill those invisibly empty voids! There was a hunger and yearning inside of both power brokers, so to speak: though Stella nor Stephan would ever admit it openly. No, that would, literally, take an “act of Congress”…the harsh truth! Still—neither, would be lover, could deny that it was time for a game-changer to enter into the equation of each life). They were at an juncture, in their lives, where brazenness and self preservation would be needed to capture missing thing and unattainable thing missing from both lives—” greatness, passion, and love”. Truth be know…they both lived their lives for this one moment—-that moment of total completion, sensual, and subliminal bliss. Stella and Stephan were not just hungry for it—-they were carnivores for it—nothing of this earth could compete or contend with that! It is astounding how the two lovers never learned to never say…”never”! You see—the mindset of the two individual narcissist felt that each needed that crazy, chaotic, out of control love—which seem to have lain dormant, and illusive to them both for much of their formative adult life (their 30’s and early 40’s). Those, who have been there, know it as …”the “fix”. This emotion would occupy the empty and unused space of both Stella and Stephan’s heart and cognitive space—until the two could find a resolution, or rather a “final destination”, of sorts. It would be the only way out of the chaos and darkness into that forbidden place of complete and utter euphoria—forbidden, because both belong to a significant other. The yearning within the two ‘would be lovers” turned itself into, not only a voyage of selfish and self-centered “capricious consumption” ,but a union of conspiracy between them to form a private “love doctrine” the likes of which either, “out of control”, neurotic, or rather narcissist could ever deny or admit openly, yet had to have! Fate and destiny seem to have been plotting its own course towards their future tryst with one another. Little could they have ever guessed that neither neurotic was no longer in true control of their unpredictable futures. The wanton lovers were now on their voyage—no turning back from there. There existed a great irony to their “peculiar attraction”—having met in a political chat room (Mr. Bestofeverthingpolitical and Ms. PoliticalPollyAnna2008) were so unlikely to connect, by all accounts. Still—the fact that Stella, was a stanch “Blue Dog Democrat” and Stephan an unapologetic, hardcore, Conservative Republican came together for the cause—at first glance. It was their opposing political ideologies that would serve as a catalyst towards the couples mental, and emotional stimulus—and of course, “off the railings” attraction to one another. Stella was, what would be called by polite societies, a “moderate and cognitive elitist”—her obsession (Stephan) was, also, a “cognitive elitist, Conservative Republican, and a self proclaimed Nationalist—turned blue Republican (he voted for then Candidate Obama for the Presidency of the United States in 2008, against all convictions). All that said—their was something about Stephan that stimulated, not only her mind, but her entire thought process—back then she sssooo needed that. Make no mistake—Ms. Political PollyAnna, by all accounts, was still her own woman…in every since of word! However, the southern gentleman, from St John’s Creek, won her affections, literally instantaneously, during their initial contact via their “business crackberry” phones. Stephan, of course, set their inconspicuous pact into motion: with something as simple as a political retort in the chat room. He initiated their, so called, conspiracy by messaging Stella: with the words he knew she couldn’t deny by a response or reaction….


“Hello—my delicious political torment—I am messaging you privately here on AOL, because I want you to know that I voted for your boy—-Obama! I can’t fucking believe it…but I did! Just the thought of Palin at the helm…fucked up my head—along with my sense of logic. My better judgment went for the cool and articulate black guy…your boy Obama. I am gonna see girl…just what he does, or rather tries to do. Dammit girl…never saw this day coming in all my years of voting.

“Well…there it is my beautiful beauty of color…you convinced me. I can never tell a soul, out side of yourself, not even in my country club—ever! You may call me anytime, and at will. My contact info is as follows: 651.555.2523. Looking forward to that conversation with you.” Just like that Mr. Stephan engaged Stella with the “throwing of the gauntlet”. It would now be up to Stella to pick it up, and run with it.

“Oh and FYI— You already know that I am the Senior National Vice-President of our banking company. Also, I neglected to inform you that Atlanta is where our banking headquarters is docked, however, if we don’t find some real capital soon…Atlanta will be a distant memory in all our minds. I will have to travel to San Francisco for all company business and meetings—-total bummer! Especially now that a really hot and tenacious babe has dropped into my life—literally from out of nowhere!” He chuckled slightly to himself: as he continued to composed his message to her.

“Well…the ball is now in your court! What…oh what…is Ms. PoliticalPollyAnna going to do with all this info? I wonder to myself tonight—-is she overwhelmed?” Stephan was blushing the entire time his fingers were hitting the keys on his laptop—with glee, of course. Careful—before you answer, dear. If you are not serious, or curious….please…do not bother! I await your response. Notice…I said response, and not your re-action. I will leave you to fantasize about that, beautiful one.”

“Know that I’m still very much the staunch conservative you accuse me of being, Ms. A-Political…that’s what you are, in reality, you know.” Jus like that—Stephan ended his taunt and mental tease—by politically forcing her thoughts. The gentleman knew, well enough, that it would suborn a response or retort of some sort. No way Stella could resist a response or reaction—none…and Stephan bet the bank on it!

The next morning when Stella opened her inbox three messages were awaiting her—messages that potentially were on the brink of changing her life, forever. Needless to say—-the curious beauty was both astounded and amazed, by his candidness and directness. Stephan casted her into territory very unfamiliar to Stella—the area of possibility! She wondered, to herself, with both delight and intrigue what on earth to say or do? It was too late for all of that, because just like that…he had already charted a path straight to her cognitive reasoning! Politics was at the forefront of her life, at that time, all else in life fell a distant second or third. If any woman had grasp the gravity of what the country desperately needed back in 2008—it was Stella (staunch patriot). In her eyes it was clear as a bell— beating the McCain/PALIN ticket would take a very powerful political ticket. No brainer that it was the OBAMA/BIDEN political tag team! This was the way forward in her mind, for the country she so loved, and Stephan felt the same way. Both, would be lovers, held their country and country men in the highest of regard. The political paradigm, and shift of the world depended on it (the Obama//Biden ticket that is)! She wrestled with it, and knew instinctively that Stephan was subjectively and covertly leading her to that place he felt they both should go. Bless their poor political hearts!

Stella had grown up with the Clinton’s being apart of her young adult life, but it simply was not Hilary’s turn…at that time. Beyond cognitive logic or reasoning, (no other term will do) she agreed with Stephan. Candidate Obama it was—“come hell or high water!” Their country needed to unite from the middle out, as did their union. Imagine, if you will, that the 2008 election brought together two lovers from both ends of the of the political spectrum—the left centrist and the far right conservative—proving that no political pledge was as powerful as the “force of Mother Nature” herself: nor the “laws of attraction!” The world of politics, back then, was like a runaway freight train, and the ride for both would be lovers shot onto the train tracks at about 100 miles per hour, so to speak.

Who would have thunk it—Politics bringing together a staunch Conservative and Blue Dog Democrat? Take a quick moment to get your head around that notion, if you will. The world shifted under the country’s feet, as no one watched or paid any attention! Stella—though overwhelmed by the election of America’s first black President (though the most qualified)—couldn’t help but feel a bit of remorse for Stephens plight. This was the one secret he could never reveal to family or his golfing buddies…ever in life! That in and of itself was a burden most could never pull off: let alone stand to bare. That said—rather than a snarky, cynical, or coy remark she chose to console him—plus she knew, innately, by taking the high ground she would also level the playing field, just a tad. After a few seconds of gathering her thoughts Stella responded to Stephan with a retort that was riddled in politically sensitive paradigm, and a an esoteric lingo Stephan would grasp immediately. That girl couldn’t wait to respond and console the consummate conservative.


‘Tell you what…hun…we both voted our conscious! I am not crying over that—we put “AMERICA” first! I am good with it. What the hell about you? Are you a damn conservative who cares about his country…verses his red party…or what, dude?” You have voted—too damn late to take it back now…lol! Hold yourself accountable for your own actions…dammit dude…own it!” Ask yourself this…are you an “American”…or an “Ameri-can’t?” Wink…wink…wink!”;-) Baby just sit back an enjoy the ride for the next eight years. Better yet…I need you to just sit back and enjoy this ride we are about to embark upon. Oh…and hold on tight baby!

“Tell you what—the next time you make it back to Hotlanta, from the West Coast early ,lets connect over dinner and business. I believe I can assist you, in reference to you finding such lofty financing—so your company can keep its east coast hub. You and I have done enough “due diligence”…now is the time to freakin…”close the deal—time to put up or shut up Mr. Red Party…with your fine ass!” Just like that—Stella changed the winning game. No woman has ever spoken to Stephan like that…no woman—especially straight of the gate! But is that who the hell she was, and his mindset was ignited like no other! Every light inside his psyche was going off…and then some!

You see—-Stephan exuded all that she longed for in a gentleman (power, great looks, fiery sensuality, intellectuality, and boldness): quietly to herself. The lady being a southern bred and traditional beauty longed for a man in her life that was real, and above all dripping with an idealistic southern tradition—-Stephan had it all! Plus, academically, politically, and even compassionately he was above the quintessential “Bell Curve”—its a total no brainer! Though Stella would never admit this openly, in a thousand years, privately…that girl loved Republican red- blooded white men. To her credit—both secretly and openly…they loved the hell out her, as well! Stella dismantled all their preconceived notions about women who dared to approached them with their own, independent, sense of political and intellectual audaciousness—hell they literally salivated at the mouth to have her, as their own! Stella revealed in their reviews wholeheartedly.

After an amazing 72 hours, the two lovers concluded that theirs was a fiery mixture of heady and hot, unbridled passions for one another—-love of their Country—of course…the history they were not to live and bare witness too (the time was unprecedented in our country’s history). Moreover, they could see each other in the open—and through it in anyone’s face—should they oppose! Nonetheless, at the bottom of this was need—a need for revitalized passions which seem to have lain dormant for quite a spell inside both of them. Stella and Stephan were beyond tempting the hands of fate—-they were on a collision course with their own existential core values. Unfortunablely, some values are not match for the intense laws of attractions. Call it insolence or self preservation…they were kicking the values rule down the road. This was a little progressive, even for 2008, for a moderate lover, and a staunch red..red…Republican lover of his statute. These variables, still, were what made their match unique, but most of all unique and special. In the end the would be lovers forged ahead, and met for dinner one evening at…of all places…”Capital Grille”.

Stephen was astonished by Stella’s poise and appearance—-not just her beauty—her “take charge” attitude—without a bit of ambivalence! Once she approached him at the front entrance of the restaurant (purposely late) Stephan grabbed her by the waist instantaneously. The intrigue, literally, began to stir the air around them—the onlookers, as well. “Damn…you are so…what the fuck…”STRIKING!” He looked that girl up and down from head to toe. Stephan being Stephan…slightly tapped her on the ass. “Sorry girl…you can hate me later…I had to reach out and touch that!” Stella’s heart was racing, yet on the outside she was quiet and calm as a cucumber. Now you know—Stella being the “deal breaker” had to return the gesture. Placing her keys Carl Lagerfeld gloves, and hand begin her right hand she politely reached down and gave his thriving member a slight squeeze. That boy turn every shade of Republican Red he could muster! “Ohhhhh…holy shit—-dammit girl! He reached up and cupped her face gently, and kissed her ever so long, but ever so softly. “Right now… I am the luckiest guy in Metro Atlanta…no fucking BULLSHIT!” Stephan never took his eyes off hers. Stella wanted to retort even recant…she couldn’t. In that one moment she was his captive, and he wasn’t about to set her free…not in a million!

His “slow hand” and brawny handling of her awoke some untapped desires and longings: which she inconspicuously hid for years. Steadfast mentally—the uneasy beauty managed to remain cool under fire outwardly—inwardly this woman was melting liking heated butter in Stephan’s masculine clutches…of course! There would be no turning back from “there”—there being the entrance to the dark place (the sacred truce). Sensually—-it was ground zero…and a “zero sum game”, for that matter. Intellectually—-however—-it would be two Titans against two Gods—to early to determine who was whom. Stella knew one thing, and one thing for sure…she needed to break the intensity of the moment, and even the playing field. In this scenario her wit and enchantment served her well. “You know every red blooded white boy and girl, along with the blue bloods in here are cursing your ass to the top of their proverbial lungs with their eyes…don’t you!” Stephan’s hands tightened around her waist—giving her a slight shake of assurance…that he gave a damn more about her comfort than the onlookers. “Buck up baby you are in for a very long ride”…the gentleman recanted via perked lips. “Well…one thing for certain…time is on my side…because that long ride will not happen tonight sugaaaaa!” He said not a word…just smirked like a child ripping off the cookie jar. Stella re-engaged the hostesses, smiled and gave them a wink. “Table for two on the balcony—-I have a reservation.” The ladies could barely manage a word, because they too were blushing. Stephan gave her hand a tight squeeze of approval, and looked over at the hostesses, as well. “Well…ladies…show us the way—please!” Stephan grabbed Stella’s handbag and gloves with his right hand, and re-engaged his grip on her with his left free hand—tapped her on the but slightly—then lead her into the restaurants interior, and up those beautiful spiraled stairs leading up to the balcony—on lookers, disapprovers, at that moment, were completely and utterly—-INSIGNIFICANT!!!

Finally, the entourage’ reached the balcony facing Peachtree Street’s main thoroughfare. Stephan paused the hostesses as he pulled out Stella-Ann’s chair—simultaneously stealing a kiss of her neck, and removing her channel sable wrap. “Ladies…please have our waiter or waitress bring up a bottle of Bollinger 63 please?” The young women looked at Stephan and Stella with glee and anticipation in their eyes…well possibly a little envy, as well. Before lowering and settling himself the gentleman reached out his long masculine arms (something about those “Brooks Brothers” starched shirts). “Come with me…for a second baby?” A delightful frown descended upon Stella’s face, by the intrigue of the moment, alone. “What is it boy…you see these folks watching our every move”…the enchanted girl resounded with eyes wide open? Stephan lead her over to the balcony’s ledge, and pointed upward in the sky. “Look up there babe…you see that full moon…well I willed it for your tonight? Do you know why”…he whispered ever so softly in her ear? “Because she is full, and pregnant so many possibilities”…he kissed her again on the side of chin—slowly scaling down to her neck. That was the moment he, not only engaged her interest further, but pulled her into the circle of intrigue.

Before she could turn and run out of his enchanting grips Stella, fell deeper into his personal space, as he gentlely wrapped his H. Stockton Blazer around them both to protect her from the chill of the night. Truth be known—-he simply wanted to catch the scent of her “Clive Christian X” perfume that spellbound him so, and to feel the soft and suppleness of her skin. This was something that had alluded him for years. Stephan was caught up in the moment, and Stella was held there captive with him, again…”ONLOOKERS” BE DAMMED! Little could either player have know, just, how profound: nor how much of a quintessential “game-changer” that night with its full moon was about to be upon both their lives. There were each other’s new “needful thing”, and neither player were ready to let go of the other—from there Stephan and Stella would cling to one another for anther six years. I tell yah…things were just getting heated up!

(Updating and editing by-weekly) — That said, Please Keep Withering Eye Over The Blog Horizon! Thank you for your reviews and interest.

KARA SCHALLOCK – Massive Energy Wave – Tsunami of Energy is Flowing to Earth Now – 7-9-17 – via Love Has Won — Higher Density Blog

LOVE HAS WON By Kara Schallock While we have wave after wave of high-impact Light flowing into us, one of the things that is impacting us is our perception. Our perception of ourselves and all things on Earth is shifting. Everything is new and unfamiliar. Observe it all with Compassion and understand what is happening, […]

via KARA SCHALLOCK – Massive Energy Wave – Tsunami of Energy is Flowing to Earth Now – 7-9-17 – via Love Has Won — Higher Density Blog

“THE RENDEZVOUS” – A Place Where Zealous Restraints Could Run Free (Book #7 Abridged Edition)



After careful and skillful calculation it was clear to Mr. EVP (Executive Vice President)—-that he could no longer deny himself the inevitable….the pleasure and decadence he knew that was to come. There was an unforeseen force between the that developed into this force stronger than nature itself, and it was a hellacious ring of fire…Mr. EVP managed to keep a level head yet he knew that his heart , soul , and entire spirit had been set on fire by the determined vixen—-and she would not stop until he completely imploded deep within her own pleasurable soul! She wanted him to spontaneously combust from the anticipation of he finally landing and Releasing the repressed emotions which have had him in a stranglehold for too long!


It was time for the exec to either “feast or famine” there would be no gray area there between them…,unless it was 50 Sades of Gray- Stella-Ann remarked—-as she chuckled wildly—-hanging up her phone from their conversation (more like a ” throwing of the gauntlet” on steroids). There was one fact facing the sensual vixen—-one thought hunting her mind continually; and that was the fact that she would allow him, and no other male, to reach her soul….her heart….her spirit the manner in which she was willing to allow Mr EVP. The gentleman would be granted, temporary, unlimited access so deep within her: that he couldn’t help but lose hims! On this one decision “Mr 401 Shades of Red Lipstick” (endearing nickname), delicious torment would never relent or allow ambivalence to enter on her behalf! She salivated at the thought of having him finally siege control of her—-now out of control loquacious repression! Thursday afternoon…could not get there fast enough for her. The wanton vixen envisioned in her mind that they would be like two kids in a candy store together! Picture it… a room—suddenly transform into their private erotic and exotic “garden of eden”—-or rather red velvet heaven. She knew he would be airbore in thought, and prepared the landing strip for a safe, smooth, and unobstructed, landing. Because, those unrepressed emotions were getting ready to bring “flyboy” into her exposed “LZ” (landing zone)—-and the zone was hot….hot….hot!

To think about it–never in his wildest dreams did Kenneth (Mr. EVP) envision what he would lay his eyes upon—-once he walks inside the other side of the door—-to his freedom and mental release! The only question left swirling about within his logical mindset was… could he handle it, and how would he handle it? I’m afraid that in that aspect he will be under the gun and very close scrutiny. Where a diligent; determined; and ferocious primal animal awaited the outcome of his actions. He must bring her his ferociousness… His unrealized desires and passions.  Can someone say “control freaks?” The Parts of him that’s been untapped for years: because this woman will accept nothing less from him—-and she should not (no more daggling of low hanging fruits)! He’s going to need his A+ game….and then some in that defacto “den of inequity.”  Because every thing will be thrown at him, all in an effort to assist him to relieve the tension and stranglehold upon his tormented spirit. He will be a “Man Apart” both sensually and intellectually…and she knows it. “Oh my god… This is starting to turn into a chapter 1 and`2 of 50 Shades…for crying out loud: tell me how you like it?  Did it tease you and peak your interest?” There is so much more where this came

COMFORT ZONES – The Rescuing Of Princess Bombshell….

One should never…ever…”be embarrassed by loneliness—its simply a place to start”: so I have heard. Some of the worlds most powerful relationships are thought to be suborned by one form of despair or another. And from this, so called greatness, beautiful strengths and insights are born. In many cases powerful social and cognitive unions become forever congruent and fulfilling. In other words—lonely people—especially those intellectual types—enter into truculent unions out of sheer desperation. ” I believe that Thoreau said it best…” The Mass Of Men Live Lives of Quiet Desperation.” The end result time after time, however, is that a very peculiar pact is formed between two people—making it a very “needful thing”…real truth.  Never forget that wounded animals are powerfully gregarious: by the laws of human nature. That said—“only a wounded animal can save the other”…because it is only those from these powerful subsets with the know how to do it!


March of 2014 came in with the gentleness of the lamb. However—that mean old lion decided to leave out with the ferociousness of the “lion in winter!” A very disillusioned Elle sat on her sofa gazing at the blazing fire: trapped behind the tinted glass of her fireplace. The ambers of orange and red began to highjack her inner most thoughts. Secrets are very peculiar entities—they can manifest out of control—before anyone is any the wiser. She tried, to no avail of course, to conceal her inner most vulnerable emotions—which seemed totally unless! Elle’s emotions finally began to get the better of her ;she was now entering into the dark spaces of her own psyche—that dark scary place (PTSD Survivor). The tears, like the old auburn ambers, began to stream like a hot fire—endlessly down her face. The, sadden ,beauty began to clutch the center of chess gasping, in desperation, for air. That girl was completely out of sorts, and more  frantic than ever she, literally, could not breath. Emotions, within her, were starting to surface: which lain docile for months. Ironically enough—-it was in that moment Elle realized that her life had spun further out of control than she could have possibly fathom. The tension and distance between her and the outside world were of her own doing—-this woman was in over her head mentally and emotionally—something would have to give (just not her)! Instinctively—Elle knew she was back in that dark world. It would be during the revelation of that notion which prompted her to conjur, from within her, the willfulness to fight back—against the beast in her darkness (DISPAIR)! No…Elle…from that juncture began to plot and plan against her closed loneliness, and in the end the lonely spot with her psyche’ would become her “ZERO SUM GAME”—at the end of it all(winner take all)!

Looking back—had it not been for a few professional and personal triumphs—during the early months of Spring in 2014—Elle would have thrown in the towel on the spot (her psyche was just about done). However, that soldier and fighter within her couldn’t give up the control of her life that easily. No…that quintessential “bitch” within her would essentially take a hard stand—the determined beauty had to fight the good fight! Those of us who knew her well, understood enough about her to, realize that Out ‘Battle Buddy and Cohort …only trusted that which she could control. If  the woman could not control it…she would never trust it (total control freak)! Some proclaimed her to be a narcissist—while others tried to label her tyrannical, of course, to no avail. None of who or whom were brazen enough to share their views with said bitch…face to face. Elle may have been a wounded animal, so to speak, but surrender, by that defiant beauty, would never be an option: nor part of the Lady Elle’s DNA! The emotional, personal, and mental losses over the years had hardened apart of her…not the whole of her (that girl was too strong for that)! Those losses may have kept her chained to the “darkness”—but all was not lost—-that tenacious beauty always saw the “proverbial” light at the end of her tunnel. It was the hardness that assisted in keeping her focused, and on that path to reaching the beauty’s desired sensual  and emotional end-state (…auh soldier). You have to both respect and envy that type of tenacity (knowing and accruing  what you truly want it)!

True to form—rather than take the final dagger, Elle resorted to “old faithful”—her sacred black book.  That book may have been dusty, and buried at the bottom of her Armoire—still—it was filled with endless possibilities (emotional and sensual salvation).  However, it had been a six to eight months since she last updated her list of potentials (dating power players). The notion of that was not enough to derail her ambitions of self salvation. That girl was on a mission to salvage her “quality of life”, so to speak! The time had come to either “feast or famine”…no more tranquil appeasement (that desperation was no longer dormant). Elle was now in “game-changer” mode, and a new bar  was set. From a mental and emotional compartmentalization—the next beau to her life, or return to the forefront of it…would have to…shall we say…”bring the noise” (intellectually, emotionally, sensually, and financially)!  Beyond any shadow of doubt—the gentleman would have to hit the mark—he would have to, at the very least, tap that “vertical limit” without passing out…no shit! Many of her resources from that book popped in and out of her her, but two very distinct beau’s rather stayed to hang out within the playground of her pysche’—the night Mixer and Mr. Cognitive Elitist himself. Can guess which one moved quickly to the forefront? Yes…the Cognitive Elitist! She never could resist the enigmatic and intellectually stimuli that seem to drip from his lips…like the early morning dew. He was her “Jimmy Jew” (endearing nickname between the two). Of course, he would be the one to “bring her back to life” (as Evanescent would say in their song)!

Elle had the wherewithal to understand she would have to fight the good fight, so to speak, to reach the end state (outcome) of sensual bliss and greatness longing deep within her—which had alluded her…for far too long. The determined beauty would, finally, have to challenge her own existential and philosophical relationship ideologies (power over prudence). In a logic sense it was time for her to fix the “hot mess” of a life she had acquiesced: by her own doing…settling to please others(family and friends). Yessssss—-this dismayed beauty would have to venture far outside of her comfort zones. This new train of thought seemed all to necessary if she wanted to conquer and kill her, now, stagnating loneliness. A type of loneliness that was plaguing her life with an all get out…”no holds barred” type of unacceptability! Elle’s determination suddenly became a source of energy and strength. The loneliness which taunted and poked at her center of her stomach was now an ally, because it made her more focused and fearless than ever to begin to live the life she felt she couldn’t have…or rather didn’t deserve. With her emotional and mental state now on the rebound…Elle sat back down, again, completely upright on that sofa—poised, ready, and non-ambivalent about her new found mission—Elle was now a wanton woman! For how long…was anybody’s guess.

Instead of opening her book of potentials Elle elected to think a bit more progressively and strategically. Her mindset was clear and concise, as ever. Why seek the “game-changer” when you can simply change the rules of the game? A slight snicker escaped her lips, because that plotting beauty knew of only one acquaintance who could accomplish that mission with her—at the same time, staying on the same  mental and emotional “sheet of music” with her, so to speak. Elle quickly popped open her phone to scale, or rather, descend through her contact list…there he was…hidden deep within her list (totally covered and concealed). His name, purposely, disguised as Mr. ‘Cognitive Elitist”. A time will come when this determined beauty will wish she had left better enough alone. Mr. “Cognitive Elitist” should stayed just as he was—-buried deep within her phone…and pysche’ for that matter! Salvation, idyllically, came at a cost far higher than the Lady Elle would be willing to pay, in the end. Yet—Elle bought that ticket to board the high speed monorail into utter emotional peril! Two emotional train wrecks— destine for utter sensual and emotional greatness, chaos, and unfortunately…its collateral damage. That love was so truculent and powerful that the two, would be, lover’s sacrificed the whole “kitty”, and everything else that was logical for it! But out there on that proverbial edge was Elle’s comfort zone—and Mr. Cognitive Elitist welcomed the invitation with great zeal an panache!