OPTICAL ILLUSIONS – Passage From Decadence And Rise To Power Of A Lady Veteran & Corporate “No Limit Soldier” (Book #1)

Ladies and gentlemen—when it comes to life, love, and lust all things are inherent. Lovers who are submerged in emotional darkness—and are ambivalent about trust in their personal and interpersonal relationships—more or less, must remain mentally cognizant of unions entered into blindly (P.T.S.D. Veterans and Commitment phobes especially). These personality types must never forget that when it comes to love and lust—“they only trust what they can control!” That said—many lovers of this caliber tend to learn the harshest lessons of loving from that very unfamiliar place to them selves. I know of one Lady Veteran and fellow Sister who’s lesson came at a cost to her credulity of life and relationship ideology. My friend and Battle Buddy Learned one of the truest facts of life that any one person could learn–“illusions are very dangerous people they have no flaws!”

Prologue Bart and Stella

Ladies and gentlemen, I am MSG November Elle Graves(retired) from the United States Army. I am here to narrate the story of my veteran sister (Battle Buddy as we vets like to refer to each other) SFC Stella Ann Kelly (a.k.a. the “Ice-Princess” or “Iron Duchess” in more intimate circles). Unlike traditional stories of love—romantic encounters—this affair of the heart, though highly romantic, had its intriguing peculiarities. However, in order for the affair to endure it would have to fight the good fight, waging a type of emotional and mental guerilla warfare between two would be lovers (power hungry neurotics). True to form, the soldier in Stella Ann lived and loved in survival mode, always. In the end, however, the love between Stella and Bart had a very tenacious objective—to live…to die—then, most precariously, to resurrect itself. Unwittingly, however, the collateral damage from such a powerful union would live on in each and every life the two lovers touched. A love that nearly killed Bart and Stella on the inside—in both a literal and emotional sense. Fundamentally, this is the way it had to be for my “battle buddy”—Bart on the other hand was a horse of a different color. The Gentleman was put on that proverbial pedestal, knocked off, then placed on the throne again—-only to have life knock him back off again. Still, he never lost much favor with Stella; she always chose to view Bart’s antics through rose-colored glasses. Even if that view was to her detriment, in a sense. Stella—-always preferred the bite of life verses the pleasurable kiss of it. Once a soldier…always soldier—never the easy way(fighter). Looking back, I perceived, early on that Bart and Stella were made for each other. Even though the odd couple could not stand to be with one another more than 72 hours at a time, which for the rest of us meant just a simple weekend hook-up. You have to appreciate the realness and audaciousness of both their egos and psyche. Bart and Stella Ann pushed that proverbial envelope with truculence and sensual brazenness the likes of which I and others, in our small social circles, could only admire with a little of our own…invidiousness!

At first glance, Stella and Bart was an odd couple of sorts, yet there were diacritic qualities about the couple that made their match complete. In appearance, the two lovers could not have been more opposite in demeanor and affectation, realistically. Stella was a tall, statuesque woman: with a gorgeous mocha complexion that made one think of a sinfully rich dessert. She is the type of woman who walks into a room, and all eyes are immediately drawn to her: because Stella-Ann has such a commanding presence and posture. Some within her, tightly constructed, intimate circle felt that she had a body created for the finer things in life: Stella agreed with their reviews wholeheartedly. No one ever said that she was modest! The spicy vixen knew, innately, that she exuded confidence accompanied by a smoldering sultry disposition, which she used to her advantage, at every opportunity. Stella simply possessed a talent very few women have the pleasure of beholding; she could merge feminine and masculine qualities together to purge one deliciously intoxicating and alluring mixture. Because of this refined talent, suffice it to say this Iron Dutchess was never in a shortage of would-be suitors. Gentlemen adored and solicited her audience and gregarious nature with a vengeance. There was just something, about this fiery vixen.

Stella, by no means, was a lightweight when it came to sparring for power, and true to form, this woman would only entertain the company of Corporate America’s most powerful and successful eligible bachelors, and unhappily married professionals. Her philosophy, when it came to married men, was simple: “it’s cheaper to keep her” and vice versa. which shocked the modesty of yours truly at times. This was, more often than not, the unspoken code between her and would be suitors! The distinguished gentlemen hidden on her “crack berry” and little black book adored and admired her for it: some literally salivated at the thought of a woman sharing their more masculine dating rules of engagement. Among her steadier beau’s this was a featured attraction. Again, that soldier in her, at times, appeared to a force stronger than nature, placing Stella in the company some of the most successful, powerful, and hella sexy southern gentlemen. I love my battle-buddy to death, but that green-eyed monster was constantly in my eyes—often because I wished that it were me. Many stated that The Iron Duchess had that gift, but I know that soldier/vet—it was her audaciousness and tenacity that men seemed to hunt…like hound dogs hot on the trail. No one could ever take that away from her—ever.

As for Bart, what he lacked in stature (that being height, weight, and southern breeding), he made up for in pure unadulterated financial power and professional charisma—with no apology whatsoever. In addition, his charm, beautiful set of piercing hazel green eyes, gave way to the type of body that made women think carnal thoughts—before they were able to catch themselves. The verdict was in from the word go…they were an extremely attractive duo; however, it was not the laws of physical attraction that drew the two would-be lovers to one another. Many of the couple’s colleagues and intimate acquaintances, on the outside of this fiery mix, concluded that the common thread between this odd couple was not only the fact that they were two of a kind, but they were what would be called by a polite society—modern day libertines and hedonist. Bart, of course, being a “Dominant”, thought he was the most primal of them all. Stella, one day would come to challenge that notion (only woman who ever would). Still…he had that trait—when it came to negotiations…the gentleman never negotiated on anything (Corporate Attorney Hedge Fund CEO).

Bart possessed the uncanny and innate ability to draw Stella out of her carefully constructed comfort zone to a place where few of us dare to embark mentally and physically. In cases of neurotics, or rather, Dominates like this gentleman, he would need a nemesis—Stella-Ann fit the bill. Bart was completely oblivious…in the beginning. There is only one direction, or rather path for guys like Bart—down that dark and perilous path for the electrically charged sensual fantasy. His ego feeds off it. Moreover, the Dominate in him must have the sensually narcissistic power associated with it—most intellects and psycho analysts…like myself… know this as capricious consumption. This desire…no…unbridled need to experience all things sensual and taboo with a no holds barred type of attitude and aptitude slowly hurdled the couple into a fantastic world of erotic and exotic exploration the likes of which neither Bart nor Stella had ever experienced in either of their lifetimes…literally. This revelation only served as catalyst for pushing the proverbial envelope as far to the outer limits as possible—straight peril for libertines of this nature. Yet—this would-be fiery neurotic mixture couldn’t help themselves—Bart especially.

Furthermore, to sweeten the pot…so to speak…Bart’s purse seemed limitless. There was not a moment during the duration of his courtship with Stella Ann that this gentleman would not use this attribute to his advantage. However, unlike the women who proceeded her, Stella’s constant tug-of-war for controlling interest in their relationship only propelled Bart to stride with all the strength he could muster to give her everything she desired materially, financially, and above all sensually. Their interaction with one another became a “game of thrones” for lust and power. That said, by the relationships end to the victor would go the spoils; both Bart and Stella were uniquely aware of this impending doom, but chose very coyly to ignore it. To this very day, the couple sincerely believes that their initial encounter was either a strange twist of fate or simply one of life’s unexplainable destinies. Bart believed the latter…Stella on the other hand believed in the initial assumption. However, one thought is none reproachable by either party─Stella and Bart were destined for one another whether the couple embraced it or not, intellectually and sensually. To this very day I still believe that Bart was just what the doctor ordered for her ego, coldness, indifference, and above all darker repressed sensual nature. Their encounter of one another was no accident—fate and destiny can be cruel sons of bitches at times. To put it simply…this was Bart and Stella’s “needful thing”.

Elated—that you—the viewer has enjoyed reviewing the chapter sample from “Optical Illusions!” This book is now in its final editing stages…we could not be more excited! Please…stay tuned for more books for the “COVERT LUST SERIES”—you will be most intrigued and entertained.


ESCAPADES OF A SOFT MILLIONAIRE & REPUBLICAN – Known To “ItGirlsInc” As “Mr You Can Have Whatever You Like” (Book #6)


On a chilly December morning two women set off on a weekend excursion: from Atlanta to Orange County, California (Maggy and Kat). The designated point of pick up for the airport was Kat’s place—-it made since—Kat’s condo was along the route to airport. Upon, Maggy’s ‘arrival to her travel buddy’s resident she saw a beautiful Black Cadillac Limo, waiting patiently out in front of it (compliments of the soft millionaire). Kat was standing in the middle of her garage singling for her travel buddy to…let’s just say…hurry it up! “Girl…come on Um ready to go”…with giddiness in her voice. Maggy wasted not another moment pulling her little Ford Fusion into the condo’s garage. Um comin girl…I can’t wait either”…she recanted while pulling her bags from the car. Kat’s eyes grew large as almonds when she saw Maggie’s new bags. “Auh…Gucci girl…really?” She folded her arms in protest. “Um let me guess…compliments of this weekend’s benefactor”…she asked while tapping her toes against the pavement. Maggie’s response was classic. “Auhhh…High Priestess…enough said!” She and Maggy continued on together—giggling and cooing at each the likes of two college coeds—sneaking off to spring break. Both women were consumed with bith agnst and anticipation. The limo driver, swiftly, exited the vehicle to assist the women with their bags, and accommodations. While sitting in the vehicle he checked both thier itineraries. All flights would be on time, and without any delays. The tall handsome and statuesque gentleman opened the door for the ladies. Simultaneously, he waved his hand in a gesture for the excited women to get in, and leave the packing of their bags to him. “Ohhhhh….no ladies…please leave that to me!” The giddy girls were nudging one another, because that boy knew he was too fine—- with his dark spikey hair, Armani suit, and bulging muscles everywhere! Maggy gave both Kat and the limo driver one of snarky smirks of approval. Kat grabbed her by the arm, and slightly pinched it. “Gurlllll…you a mess…a hot mess…chessing like crazy! The two ladies promptly entered the limo—-flowers and libations were everywhere! The limo driver poked in his head, reached over to both ladies, to insure that their seatbelts were secure…right. He was, also, getting his flirt on. ” By the way my beautiful Queens…all that you see are compliments of you know who!” The gentleman pucked his lips blowing the ladies a soft kiss, as he closed and secured their door. Kat turned to Maggy shaking her her—-while pulling back her curly tresses. Maggy said not a word, reached over and began to pop the cork on the bottles of St. Germaine and Hendrix left chilling by the limo driver. Suddenly— the driver let down the window, as he viewd the two women via his rear view mirror. Sit back relax…have a few drinks…he chuckled. Your flight, and connecting flights are all on time. Just as he finished— pop went their champaign bottles. Kat looked over at Maggy cracking up. The ladies sat up a bit, in order to toast each other, and tbat gorgeous limo driver. He looked at them both smiling like a Cheshire cat.” Shall I say it for you beautiful queens?” “Yyyyyyyaaaassss…the two women yelled!” For all this ladies you can thank—-“Mr. You Can Have Whatever You Like”… and just like that he pulled off!

LOVE CONFINDENTIAL – The Dubious “Tete-A-Tete’s” Between Lust Aficionados (Book #8)

When they say that…”politics makes for strange bedfellows”…nothing could be further from the truth—-especially when it comes to compartmentalized love affairs. The compartmentalization, simply, means that two people love each other, but are realist and existentialists when it comes to affairs of their heart. Make no mistake, this takes an extraordinary degree of intestinal fortitude, presumption, and most of all—emotional control. Well…at the very best that you can under the circumstances. Mr. EVP (Executive Vice President) and his Elle would push that proverbial envelope as far to the outer limits, as possible! The irony here is that their political objectives and ideologies will not only be a constant intellectual and emotional driver. However, in a strange manner the catalytic converter of their sensual tryst and lust for one another is just that—opposing political ideologies.  How intriguing and engaging is that? Well…we shall see soon enough.


On a wintery cold and stormy night—in north Georgia—it began to rain as if “it were raining all over the world” as  we Georgians would say (cat-3 thunderstorm). In the middle of her huge king size bed a sleeping beauty (Elle) heard not a single sound. Oh no—she had slipped away from the world—into another one of her idyllic slumber. It had been a very trying day earlier—slumber was her only escape! Suddenly—the crack of lightening struck with a horrific rumbling sound, abruptly interrupting the beauty’s peaceful bliss and escape. Unsuspectingly, the dismayed beauty was both startled and bewildered by the raging storm just a few feet outside her condo’s patio doors. Before she could gather herself ,emotionally and mentally, the semi-conscious Lady Elle felt a pair of masculine hands wrap themselves around her waist. First—she wondered if it were a dream, of sorts. But those hands felt far too familiar, and far to real. Next—in the dark of the room, a deep voice raspy, sensual, and with a southern drawl bated her not to be frightened, because he (Kenneth) was there now with her, again.

“Babygirl…it’s me…sorry to startle you, but I just couldn’t bring myself to interrupt that type of peaceful trance. I needed a few blissful moments of my own to gaze quietly upon you—so I waited a while first. Besides you needed to sleep off some of those negative emotions from our earlier encounter. Please…forgive me”—Kenneth’s eyes were glazed over with sadness as his strong hands gave here another tight squeeze of assurance and confidence.

Kenneth knew in his heart of hearts—she needed it. Perhaps Kenneth’s keen sense of Elle’s disposition and unusual feminine nature is what would later make the two lovers permanent and ‘constant visitors’ to one another’s lives—there was just something about this peculiar union neither lover could deny.

After a few quick gasps Elle looked over towards him as her eyes began to adjust to the deep dark of the room. The ambient light,from the lightening strikes, shun through the patio doors of her bedroom like a blade cutting through a slice of tough bread.  Elle said not a word, at first, as she witnessed the flickering light from the bolts of lightening bounced off her lover’s piercing blue eyes—which were scaling the beauty’s curvy and robust silhouette. Finally, after clarity of thought, and the realization that Kenneth was in the room with her again—close to her side—Elle could not resist the urge to ask the question. As the shiver’s continued to race down here spine the, heady, beauty grabbed the gentleman by his muscular guns—all in an effort to steady herself and secure him into place. This gesture would afford the her the opportunity to dive in with her barrage of questions. “Oh my God boy…how long have you been here watching me?”—with eyes raged over with curiosity. “More importantly—why have you returned here…I thought you had a family emergency, suddenly”—Elle remarked rather coyly?  The chill in that room was nowhere near as bone chilling as her passive aggressive retort—which Kenneth begin to think to himself, silently with a smirk.  Elle could be a “hot mess” when she was pissed off, and of course, a handful!

Of course, a very discerned Elle made her inquiries: furiously shaking her head from side to side…in utter disbelief. She could not believe, for the life of her, how stealthy and swiftly Kenneth entered her apartment and bedroom. Earlier, that evening, the two lovers were engaged in a very hearted quarrel over Elle’s tardiness and cavalier attitude towards a few pressing issues, between herself and Kenneth. The gentleman expressed, during their tirade, that he had a limited window of time to spend with her that afternoon. However, before the vigorous debate could reach a reasonable and equitable end his phone rang—it was his wife—they were estranged, of course. Kenneth, unfortunately, had to leave his lover, very abruptly, to tend to a pending family matter, that was of the utmost urgency!  Elle, was not only dismayed…she was completely out of sorts over it! However, she understood the ‘rules of engagement” and gave way to his leaving. The, then, seething beauty was so angry she rolled over without a single good bye to him and began to fall into her deep trace. That was here escape from the issues, but mostly the pain and anger. Elle…not only wanted…but needed a way out of that painful and hyper emotional place—sleep was would become her ally and cohort. To put it simply…Elle wanted no part of she and Kenneth’s true reality—it was too much for her to bear, realistically!  Nonetheless, as she fell into that trace not in her wildest of dreams could she have imagined Ken’s convictions and resolve to return to her side—not in the least.

The befuddled country gentleman slightly reached up, lifted Elle’s chin, capturing her eyes blazing with that feline curiosity and purpose: which sometimes brought him to his knees. Still shaken and shivering she managed a smile as the coolness of the room simmered that raging temper of hers. As the thunder and lightening outside rolled faster and faster it seem to inadvertently stir the air around the bewildered lovers. Finally—she calasped willfully into his arms. Shaking her head, yet again, the shivering beauty looked up at him as he softly  stroked her arms and torso to calm her nerves, and avoid any further inquiry about his returning to her apartment and bedroom—that was literally set ablaze by their heated argument less than three hours earlier. Elle pressed her face into his broad chest, as her tinted tresses dangled slowly around her neck, shoulders, and backside. “Kenneth…baby…why are we doing this to one another…why?”—she stated as her, Ruby red, nails clinched his flesh. “When I heard the front door slam, earlier, I thought you were gone from my life for good—we were done—yet you are back here baby!” Elle collapsed further into Ken’s chest as her tears soaked his starched “Brooks Brothers” dress shirt.

Ken’s heart sank—yet he mustered the will power to pull Elle away from his chest carefully and slowly. He didn’t want to alarm or upset any further. The southern gentleman in him refused to cause her further collateral damage both emotionally and mentally. Instead, he politely stood up and removed his drenched overcoat—while simultaneously placing it across the chair by the bed: revealing of course, the tear soaked dress shirt. Elle never lost her gaze of him—thinking in the back of her mind—Kenneth had the best of everything—body, mind, and soul (brains and brawn)!



HAVING COMPETENCE – In Personal Insecurities and Ambivalences…

In life, and this new era of “moral deficiency” from family, friends and foe’s with nefarious and hubris intent (haters)—we owe it to ourselves to be very cognizant of the—so called  “barbarians at our gates”…for they pose a very “clear and present danger”!  Moral bankruptcy is depleting polite societies, across the globe, of their core moral values. Moral “due diligence” is an absolute necessity!

Ladies and gentleman—it’s imperative that our society, as a whole, learn to read personal intuitions better: than that which we have in the past! The world has entered an era where former traditions and core values are being challenged: on levels many polite societies, can’t begin to possibly comprehend or fathom! To state that these are difficult, dynamic, and deleterious times…are an understatement! To not adhere to one’s own “E. I.” (emotional intelligence) is not only irresponsible…but perilous in a sense. Fear factors—or rather “the real truth” are the usual suspects: which seems to be prompting many in, our society, to ignore discernments that seem to nag at their gut—most know this as instincts. This, also, is where our life experiences and critical thinking are paramont! Have great competence in what most of our society denotes as “insecurities”—that is your gut instinct or E.I. employing your hiensight to pay attention! Having ambivalence, of any kind, during these trying times is simply a matter of personal negligence and peril.

In a word—take a moment to reproach your  insecurities. Never recoil from your uneasiness, or dismiss issues that nag at your gut. Having, or rather, developing stronger “COMPETENCE” in your insecurities simply means you are giving credibility to your intuitions and reliance upon your own judgments. In addition, reading, relying, and enhancing our gut instincts can be extremely empowering and motivating.  Moreover, one asserts more control over his or her own decision making process—which, beyond any shadow of doubt, is intellectually, emotionally, and socially liberating! That said—the next time anyone dares to say to you, or challenge your, alleged, insecurities be bold, brazen, and bullish…OWN IT!  The more competence polite societies have in their insecurities the better their ability to properly read and assess any emotional intel or intuition. By embracing these attributes with confidence we can better control how the moral deficits of others effect our lives—thus turning, so called, insecurities into valuable tools of pure personal strengths and wisdoms!


WINTER CAPTIVES – Submission & Lust During The 2nd Artic Blast (Book #9)

“And So It Is…That Both The Devil and The Angelic Spirit Present Us With Objects Of Desire—TO AWAKEN OUR POWER” ,inwardly…of course! They call me the “Lady Elle”—many refer to me as the quintessential “Wild Thing“—from D.H. Lawrence’s poem. I, of course, agree with their assessment: whole heartedly. This one affair of hearts I had to tell myself—we became the very best of friends—then amazing lovers…for life! I’m a commitment phoebe, beyond any shadow of doubt. Well—what can I say? That old soldier in me has made me emotionally tough and resilient. However—love is like history…it evolves…lucky for me.

“I never met a “Wild Thing” feeling sorry for itself. A bird will fall frozen from its bough—without ever feeling sorry for itself”—D.H. Lawrence. This means a great deal to us “soldier types”…indeed!

Intro – AS GEORGIA SLEPT (sample and unedited copy)

As we slept (all of Georgia’s sons and daughters) that infamous Sunday night ,in February, the second arctic blast spread across Georgia like a runaway freight train—it fell over our houses, buildings, Roads, and waterways! Even our peach orchards, with its beautiful white veil of lacy flakes, had the appearance of a wonderful winter wonderland. Only—this time—we Georgians were prepared for war! We would not be snowed in without a fight! During the night I had fallen into another one of those deep winter night trances. In doing so, I temporarily, ignored the impending peril barreling towards the sides of the Blue Ridges of Georgia. Unbeknownst to us all, behind the snows beautiful lacy veil were thousands of icy daggers.

Those sharp and jagged edged weapons of nation were bound and determined to stab the ridges to death. Not realizing it, at first, the beautiful veil of snow had begun to leave in her path hundreds of helpless victims—too stubborn to leave their sumptuous and lofty mountain retreats! However—in reference to my own resolve and survival—I would not be claimed by Mother Nature’s icy bitch…well…at least not without having to fight the good fight. No—I’m afraid the Lady Elle (Me) had a “trusted agent” on her team that day! This gentleman and rogue (in a good way) was one of Georgia’s very own national guardsman , and National hero. Beyond any fear of reproach, I believe that in his mind that his resolve for my safety was simple. Nothing was gonna happen to me—Not On His Watch! Little could, either of us, have suspected how much that resolve and gallantry would impact our lives intimately! It all began rather abruptly: with the first blanket of beautiful snow!

“Ring…Ring…Ring”—went the little Smartphone under my pillow…surprised the signal was able to get through. “Hello”—I said in a, very, sleepy and raspy voice. I recognized the voice on the other end immediately—it was that trusted agent and confidant of mine. “Hun… Auh…You need to come down off the side of that mountain…now…and I mean right the hell now!” A frown of discernment descended upon my face: as I struggled to retain his warning, mentally. I immediately and swiftly jumped from my bed to run to the back door. Trusted Agent number one—could hear me struggling to unlock the door—yet he waited patiently—as I gained a full visual of the unsuspecting deadly white veil. The side of the mountain was covered, in layers of snow—it was surreal.

“Holy shit”—I recanted! “Baby there has to be four inches on the ground, already!” I pulled my hair back, as I cupped my cell phone in my neck—all in an effort to pull my curly tresses into a ponytail. “Elle…hun…how long will it take you to pack a bag?” Another frown of dismay descended upon my face, but with a little folly accompanying it. “Uh…soldier here baby…I packed my bags last evening—just in case!” I could hear him chuckling like crazy. “I might have known…Good Girl”—Allan (the confidant and trusted agent) recanted: with a voice riddled in southern drawl and sensual headiness! Now get the hell off the side of that mountain…right the hell now!” My response to him was very simple, and to the point. “Copy That Baby!” I was not getting stuck for another week long—like I did during the first artic blast: that hit Georgia!

Within thirty minutes the cabin was secured, and I was out the door! My exodus off the side of that mountain was nothing short of a small epic battle and scrimmage! However, I won that battle! The Lady Elle had to rely heavily on those old Army skills of survival—because in the end those skills proved to be paramount! They assisted me towards getting to interstate 575, safely and expeditiously! “Oh Lawd”…Interstate 575 looked like spring break: at Fort Lauderdale! We were all headed the same direction, and at 15 mph…honking like crazed co-ed’s, on spring break! But this situation was far more dire. It was imperative for us mountain folks to get to safety, and as far away for the ridges, as possible!

Now, at that slow a speed I began to wonder if I would ever get to Canton Georgia: but by the “sheer grace of God” ,on that day… I did! Finally—I made it to the “Governor’s Reserve’s” posh snow covered subdivision where Mr. Trusted Agent was anxiously awaiting my arrival: in full military battle dress. As I turned into the drive he, quickly, waltzed out the front entrance—slowly posting himself on the stoop (soldier in him). I smiled to myself: with intrigue and adulation. I suddenly started feeling a little like Scarlett O’Hara, but only in a small sense. Sometimes, in life, rather good or bad…we have to learn to live in those moments—that morning was one of them! I pulled into the drive, and up into the garage. I parked next to the all terrain vehicles, left the car running, and ran around to the front entrance where Allan stood awaiting for me. There he was all smiles—hair all covered in tiny snow flakes melting on him.

“Welcome beautiful”…First Sargent Stanton (Allan) said as his eyes sparkled through those wired rimmed glasses of his. “We better get you inside, and out of this mess.” He politely wrapped my arm in his, and graciously escorted me up the steps—from the stoop…and from there…into the foyer of his masculine and huge decorated chalet. Before I was given the, million dollar, tour of his home the gentleman and soldier assisted me out of my travel gear: always the consummate southern gentleman. Simultaneously, the red cheeked “First Soldier (an old Army term) kissed me on my bare and exposed neck. I declare—First Soldier lit me up like a hot de-militarize zone! And the LZ (land zone) was already heating up to a sizzling red hot—no exaggeration of thought there. Fate and destiny were fast at work, on that day.

Think about it—all of these dramatics were taking place in the mist of the impending storm outside the doors of the manor (the second Artic Blast). Nonetheless, the gentleman was just as giddy as I was, but in a manly man sort of way. He grabbed me by the hand started to ask me about my drive down, but was interrupted by his military “crack berry” phone. “Oh boy”…We both said aloud sarcastically! “That’s Top (The Sergeant Major over the Georgia National Guard)…wonder what he wants.” I stood there in a cold shiver, because I knew, instinctively, what that call meant. The call only lasted for a little while, but I surmised that a great deal of task-mastering went on between those two war horses. No doubt—I was correct in my summation!

I said not a single word: only observed his changed demeanor, and tone of voice. As First Soldier hung up the crack-berry from “Top” his eyes met mine. “I gotta report sweetie …we are all being activated immediately by the Governor, himself—every abled body and man must report by tomorrow at zero dark thirty! For now, however, I have to man the phones—need get everybody in on time. “I’m so…so sorry, Hun!” I smiled and responded quickly to his feeling sorry or worried about me acquiring and bad feelings. I kissed his forehead as I began to squeeze his hands, tightly. Tilting my head slightly I remarked very sternly that…“Georgia needs all of her able sons and daughters today—You are no different!” The southern belle in me began to lay my hands on his shoulders: to both steady and focus him on my voice. “Go make us all proud…me especially”—I resounded with glee and pride in my voice. Well…okay perhaps a little mischief was hidden somewhere within in my response!

My instincts were beckoning my emotional intel to awaken itself— because unscrupulous “risky business” definitely was touring about the manor. The soldier in him could not help himself: as he looked at me with such contentment and surprise. Allan was quite taken by my remark, and willingness to understand. I don’t know why? I’m a soldier and patriot—will bleed on the red stripes of “Ole Glory” to keep her flying! Smiling still, he turned to run up the spiral staircase in front of us to finish prepping for duty. “I gotta change shirts, hun…you are welcome to come on up with me—hell you might as well!” My heart raced, as my spider sensors went into full “SCOUNDREL ALERT“—I loved it…as did he! Because—not once did that damn soldier, and pride of Georgia apologize for it! No…he rather reveled in his thoughts. Allan darted up those spiraling stairs as he darted straight for the Master’s Suite. I was left to come or not come up to join him: as if I were a part of the manors daily occupants—and the defacto “Lady of the Manor”. I couldn’t believe what was happening (the respect and gesture that is)! It’s fair to state, without fear of reproach, that this lady was both happy and relieved.. I was truly safe.

I followed in slow pursuit up the beautiful staircase—had to take my own time. Because, Ms Scarlet (Me) needed to take in every detail of the grandeur—gilded, beautiful, and of course, amazing, manor. She reminded me of old time traditions forgotten, and fading from our lifestyles. That chalet begin to feel like a little taste of heaven, itself. God—-if I only could have known what was laying itself ahead of me? Living in the moment, however, I could not. I was meticulously and strategically being pulled into the layer of the dragon—without protest I might add. It seemed I was caught in the clutches of Mother Nature, Human Nature, and curiosity. What southern belle, do you know of, could have ever resisted those forces? Not A single One?

Winking…the First Soldier stuck his head out the doir of his boudoir—politely signaled for me to follow him into the Master’s suite—I did as he commanded. Slowly, I waltzed and sashayed into the room like the grand Lady and southern belle I knew that I could be. I swear— it never fails—men love it! Now—I was the true or rather defacto ‘Lady of the Manor”, for the duration of the artic blast (total litmus test). I sat at the edge if his huge king sized Rice bed: watching him prepare for duty. Suddenly, and very purposely he peeled off his, military grade, t-shirt because it felt too small (yeah right). “Lawd…my eyes could not believe what they were witnessing!” Of course, with a bit of amusement and curiosity along with it. What red blooded Georgia peach wouldn’t? As far as I was concerned I was now standing in the presence of a God and warrior—things were looking up! It was something quite extraordinary going on between the walls of that boudoir!

There they were—muscles protruding off of every extremity of First Soldier’s decadent body—you could eat an entire entrée off his abs, alone! Thinking to myself, I stated in my silent alter ego’s voice…”Now There Goes A Lean Mean Fighting Machine!” And true to form that soldier became tickled by my moment. He, boldly, inquired about what it was I was thinking so quietly to myself…and that I needed to share my thoughts with him. I shook my head in protest, profusely, to that notion! “No, hun…these harlot thoughts will be well kept and guarded—unless they are tortured out of me: at some point later on”…I resounded in a deep sensual voice—dripping in the drawl of the Blue Ridges (slow and long). He could not help himself…that gentleman’s laughter resonated throughout the upstairs manner’s acoustic ceilings. But what stood there in front of me seemed liked a Lady’s private and wet dream! It took all mental strenth to remain composed there in front of Top Soldier. I knew he was leading me to a place. It took nothing for me to come to the realization that…it was ime to flip that script”…into my favor fast and with slight of hand, so to speak. I did by appealing to every southern gentlemen’s weakness…his sense of chilvary! He knew, by e look in my eyes I had decided to fight back. Being the Top soldier that he was that rascal in him decided to temp fate. He turned as if to kiss me, but did not—instead he ripped off thst snug little military tee—with the look of a carnivorous and primal animal!

“SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!” That boy was a hairy, sexy, freaking beast! For a man of plus fifty…his body was that of a 40 year old man. I was on my feet in one point two seconds (off the Rice bed). “Dammit Boy—-Now that’s a visual too woman live for”…I chuckled! A part of me wanted to turn backward flips and pirouettes: but my better judgment kept me calm, steadied, and more collected. “Well…I think I had better wait for you downstairs…don’t you?” my voice was so low, because I could barely muster a sound after that damn visual began to sink itself in! The Master of the manor…so to speak…took his time waltzing over to me—posting himself deeper into my personal space. There are times, mentally, when I am still trapped in that one moment, especially when it snows. First Soldier knew exactly what he was doing: in those few moments of mysteriousness and dramatic intrigue.

Allan, or rather First Soldier, said not a word—the glare and snarky smirk on his face said it all: before he uttered a single word. “Hun…you are here for a good bit…I suggest you take a moment to collect your thoughts…and I mean all of them—then pull it together!” This new voice was not the request voice—this was his “Command Soldier Voice”—beyond any doubt I heeded the order! He pressed his hard body slowly against mine: in an effort to hug, and pull me closer him (with literally zero breathing room). I believe the heat from both our bodies shut off the furnace…just saying. If nothing else, we melted the snow and ice on all the bedroom windows. He rubbed his exposed flesh— and curly tight salt and peppered tresses—on his chest against me. My loins ached from just the longing—my knees slightly buckled. The God standing there before me caught the descending slight fall, and pulled me deeper into him (so I could hear his heart beating). His voice became raspy, softer, yet dripping with desire. In a hushed whisper he managed to speak. “Dammit Girl…I think we are about to melt the mountain peaks up here in north Georgia!” It was at least two to three minutes before Allan released me from the capture of his embrace, and sensual capitulation. “You are not my guest here girl…I have you hear with me for two reasons, specifically—for you to be safe and secure—ladt but not least I want you to be the “Lady Of The Manor…my manor!” Top Soldier gave my shoulders a tight squeeze of assurance, and lsid in to give me a kiss. That kiss hit my LZ with nothing short of ariel bombardment…I swear it! I could barely hold myself steady, but managed with the little mental and emotional Wherewithal I could muster. Finally, he released me, as his erect member stood at full “attention” Its both a blushing moment, and clearifying one…for that matter. “Lord…it was on and poppin” in that damn swanky ass subdivision.”

“Whew!” What a very emotionally charged few moments, and trying…for that matter (in a good way)! I don’t know why, but I felt a bit relieved to be out of captivity. I guess mainly due to my emotions darting all over the place. No matter the intensity of the moments that vision in my L.O.S. (line of sight) never paused for a second. “Trust me…you will get use to the visuals…I shall see to that”…First Soldier recanted with another husky sensual and raspy southern drawl. That freaking boy always…always…knew what I was thinking, instinctively! Shivers raced over my body—preparing the road for the millions of Goosebumps that came barreling upon my skin. Before I could respond, verbally, those brawny hands of his were securely around my waist, and his tongue slowly began to pierce my slightly pouting and pursed lips—of course, I pulled myself together with a quickness! I could not give him total quarter of my mind or body—sort of a soldier’s last stand…in the moment (it would be short lived). No “southern belle” I know would, attempt, to do any less. Besides—this was a litmus test (sensually and emotionally) for us both. What better place than a close quartered swanky chalet—nestled at the top of the hill—away from prying eyes, curious neighbors, and peaked” ears. Really surprise the snowcapped mountains of Georgia didn’t start to meltdown in those few moments—that we were in his master suite! I Really…I am.

As the First Soldier began to stick his tongue down my throat…I gasped for air. He pulled himself away from my lips with what I thought was a type of self force (he wanted longer). With my red lips cooling and still puckered, he tilted my head slightly with his free hand: never allowing me to escape his siege of my lips and body completely. Slowly the soft wet kisses began to descend down the side of my face and checks, the curve of my neck—then onto my shoulders (those Goosebumps were now on a road march all over my body). To break the momentum I grabbed the side of his face with my hands, and pulled him deeper into my, so called, twin peaks…wasn’t gonna play fair. By this time the room began to burn with a heady red hot fire, and smoldering sensuality which pierced us both(it was not from the fireplace)! We pulled our bodies away from each other—only to collapse into each others arms further. But being the “can do soldiers” we knew we could be Allan and I established mental and emotional clarity. Thus briskly tarring each other from the powerful embrace. The moment was just too tense; something had to give—–us!

After a few quiet seconds of staring at each others silhouettes—Allan cupped the side of my face with his, huge, hand. I went to speak, but the gentleman simply would not allow it. “SSSSSHHHHHH….just listen to me hun…for a second”—I did as requested. “First you are going to go down to the cellar and do a little shopping, so to speak. A frown raced upon my face: accompanied by a bit of confusion. I was wondering what type of shopping could I possibly do at the manor? Allan chuckled at the dismayed and confused look in my eyes. “Come follow me…I shall explain in route.” The look on his face, and tone in his voice literally turned from softly firm to commanding and stern—but, again, in a good way. What can I say…you just gotta know those southern gentlemen types to understand? He really meant no harm, but he was the “Master of the Manor!” I resisted no longer. I turned shoulder to shoulder next the manor’s Master, and began to walk with him slowly. First Soldier led me to center of the lofty walkway. His glare towards me pierced my flesh like a butter knife. Suddenly, we stopped to look one another eye to eye: both smiling and cooing at one another. Top laid those strong brawny hands on my shoulders, again, softly—in an effort to gain my focus and to steady me. “Listen beautiful…relax okay” his hands gave me a squeeze of awareness. “You are here with me, and I give you quarter (soldier for due care)!” He gave my body a little shake to break the intensity of the moment. “Don’t ever feel frightened, ashamed, or uncertain when you here…this place just got a breath of fresh air!” My eyes lit up like sparkling diamonds—these were words I desperately needed to hear. “Lady Elle…you belong here…please except that fact!” Allan said not another word, but simply embraced me with his heart that time. I could feel the desperation in his touch. For the next few days I would be home. What a revelation!

Of course, by this time all of my senses were heightened, and curious! He dropped both his hands to my lower back, and gave me a slight squeeze (relaxing any concerns)—chills flared up and down my backside—like a runaway freight train…no kidding! “You are the truly the Lady of the Manor , right now, its time to make you as much at home, as possible.” Smiling, I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek—he moved quickly—-my lips and pucker hit him “spot on” the lips. The sneaky gentleman opened my lips with his tongue and slide it in. Pulling me closer to his chest Allan kissed with a force that literally sucked the air straight out of my body! I would be dishonest if I said…I didn’t enjoy every moment of it. My stomach didn’t feel butterflies—it felt gentle bee stings. “Damn…that freaking, guy…he was just something!”

Once we re-engaged one another we journeyed on down his long lofty hallway. He stopped at this odd shaped door. I say not a word, but simply stood there calmly and curiously. “Well…I guess you are wondering about the shopping situation…hah?” That clever and maniacal smirk never left his face. His strong hands pressed against my stomach gently, as he opened the closed door. My eyes grew large as I became, so, stunned! I could not believe what was there before me. That door led to a small, yet elongated elevator which took its occupants to the levels below the manor. All I could do was shake my head from side to side in total amazement and pleasure! The Master of the Manor stood next to me chuckling his heart out. “I take it you are both pleased, and somewhat surprised at what’s behind door number one?” I could barely speak to him: because I was too busy laughing my behind off. “Dammit boy…I can’t imagine what is in store for me the next few days?” Again…another kiss, a few squeezes, and of course…the cupping of my face. Have no idea what was up with that…but I loved it (his continual bombardment of affection).

Allan sat me down on the little padded leather bench to the left side of the elevator. Underneath the bench was a beautiful little fluffy basket. “Hun…use the little basket to fill with all the goodies you are going to bring back up.” He kissed me softly on the lips, and stepped away slowly. I could only muster a few words from lips. “Okay hun…I shall do my best.” Smiling, I pressed the button, my self, before he could close the elevator door. Slowly I descended down towards the cellar. I could see him watching me from the cameras above. I looked up with a very sinister smirk on my face. “VOYUER”…I screamed!” I could hear his sexy ass chuckle via the intercom. Shit…this boy didn’t miss a clue, in this manor! However, those soft bee stings were beginning to feel a bit like “yellow jackets” here and there, of course…in a good and not so creepy way. Allan wasn’t that type. However, I was becoming increasingly impatient with all the elements of surprise from Top Soldier. He was in total charge and control of the ship—of which were powers I too desperately wanted to share and possess. Yet—the writing was on the walls—-temporarily I was in his quarter…and wanted to be! If anyone would have asked me…I would have adamantly denied it!

Finally—I reached the bottom floor to the first cellar, and the doors opened slowly. “OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I opened and shut my eyes two to three times, as I stepped off the elevator slowly. I remember thinking to myself that it felt as if I were back on the strip in Vegas (at those boutiques). There was not only a cellar filled with a million different libations, but three other little boutique styled rooms with smoky windows. Of course—I went straight for the shopping jugular. I hit up the cigar humidor first, and with a vengeance! I picked out two of my favorites, and two cigars I felt Mr. Hewlett Packard retired would love and enjoy (Aston VSG, Diamond Crown, Custa Rey, and Padron). I wanted to pick a few libations next, but my curiosity about the other rooms got the better of me. I immediately open the door to the darkest room of them all. “Hey…it was literally calling out my name!” I simply couldn’t resist. Besides—I needed to mentally prepare myself my stay for the duration of the storm

“Lord have mercy”…no way”…I said aloud to myself! It was a little boutique filled with long silk gowns, robes, and a few new body libations (adult toys). Let’s just say that from there I filled that little basket with all that it could hold from the little in house boutique. I could hear Allan’s little chuckles and coos over the intercom system as I shopped. Next—I hit the cooler with the wines and bourbons: grabbed a bottle of Melbec, Chardonnay, Hendrix, and Johnny Blue. My little basket was so full I had to carry it over to the elevator with both hands cradled on each side. I pressed the button, and began to ascend upstairs. First—I stopped at the dining and kitchen level to unload…just a bit. I dropped off the cigars and drink libations—before slowly ascending back to the upper level of the manor—where the Master was waiting with his lips pursed, and eyes filled with potential mischief and curiosity. “Um…just saying!”

“Sssssoooo…what do you think of my little mini shopping venue”? I reached for his waist again, as he stroked the side of my neck gently—not forgetting to play a bit in my auburn curly tresses. My mouth began to drench itself with moisture: for whatever reason. Though I tried not to observe my ever emerging nervousness—it was to no avail—Mr. Hewlett Packard’s power gaze went all over me—it was time to throw in the white flag (surrender). Someone needed to break the momentum just a bit—so I volunteered for the mission. “Mr. Master of the Manor”…I said as slow, southern, sensual, and coyly as I could. “Please…leave some pieces of clothing on my body…will you!” Aroused, amused, and intrigued Allan slowly bowed and curtsied in front of me. “Girl…you gotta forgive me please…its not that it can’t be helped—its simply that I have no will too !” I could only manage a nod, at that point. The Lady of the Manor was truly losing herself in the moment. I backed up slowly against the armoire: not realizing it was behind me. “Damn”…I said softly. “I guess I am flanked in here with no where to run”—I uttered as tiny short breaths escaped my body in rapid repetition!” Allan arched his brow, and smiled at me—very warmly, I might add. “You damn debutante’s…damn!” I didn’t know if that was a slight or a compliment? That said—all that I could must out of my mouth were the words…”Mr. Allen!” The expression on his face gave me pause. “Listen…and I mean to listen good to what I am about to say to you, hun…know that I mean these words in the most sincerest and complimentary of ways.” I felt as he were scolding me, but with kit gloves on. “We are both locked in for the duration of this primal animal of nature—lets take this opportunity to make the best of it—besides I am both elated and relieved that you are here where I could watch over you…ok…and possess you as well! How is that for romance”…he uttered sternly and passionately. We both smiled and giggle a bit. Suddenly—both our chests released the breath we were holding in due care. We both needed to employ our out of control incredulities: because we were both, prematurely, ready to push certain envelopes. The timing was far off the marker for that. Our cooler heads took charge of the manor’s quarter—-thank God for that!

Frantically—Allan forced himself out of the Lady’s personal space! “I will do nothing…and I mean nothing…that would compromise you or your opinion of me—I won’t!” My eyes looked at him with nothing short of compassion, understanding, and most of all…adulation! “Baby…as if I would ever…and I mean ever…look at you in that manner!” The gentleman finally calmed himself: just a bit to hear my retort. “Listen…we are here together, baby!” I raised my hands to stroke his arms—all in an effort to calm his agitation and dismay. “Listen to me Stanton…I am like no other woman you have been with in your life, married or dating! “Shit I see…Allan said…pulling at his hair in an attempt to further calm his nerves, and “dress right dress himself” (get focused). “It’s been a long time since you called me Stanton—-I like it Baby!” “Hhhhhmmm…I can’t see calling you any other name under these peculiar circumstances…but its also a bit sexy and sensual to me darling. ! Don’t you think…my dearest?” First Soldier stood their looking at me, smiling and blushing…just a tad. He stood at immediate attention, poked out his chest, and winked at me—all in an effort to calm me, and the moment. I loved it—because I understood the gesture!


CONFINDENCE IN ONE’S OWN INDEPENDENCE – The Clarity of Objective Thoughts…

CONFIDENCE IN YOUR PERSONAL INDEPENDENCE, IN LIFE, IS A MUST! However—know this—your personal independence can not exist without clarity of objective thoughts (one must realize the true meaning of independence). In order to have such confidence one must have an inherent sense of self preservation and determination, in life and living!

Independence”, as once described in the movie “Now Voyager”—is simply “self-reliance” upon one’s own judgement…by interpretation, of course! Too often–social and polite societies hear the term independence and minds automatically reference the state of being independent to financial and professional success . Though the mentioned attributes are coherently relatable and congruent…they are not finite. To rely upon one’s own judgment is a personal act of perseverance and defiance, as well as, challenging yourself to exercise your own individuality. Inherently speaking—self-reliance and independence are the bedrock of inner strength, self-confidence, and most of all one’s own critical thinking!

To delve even deeper psychologically, I believe it is fair to say, that self-reliance is the truest ally of independence. Why…you may ask? The answer is simple, because one cannot exist without the other. In order for any individual to be truly independent he or she must rely heavily upon their own inner voice, personal resolve: and most of all their implicit ability to stand, act, and respond to life challenges and situations alone. The stronger and deeper embedded, within us, our self-reliance the more intrinsic the ability to “critically think” for one’s self. Being that independence and self-reliance are not finite: it is not only rational but imperative that we as individuals do not acquiesce our innate abilities intellectually, mentally, socially, and emotionally into states of being subservient. That said—exercise strongly your individuality, commonality, adaptability, non-conventional behaviors, and of course, defiance of obstacles and life limitations. Independence and self-reliance are your inanimate “Sword and Shield” against the world—Be “The Masters of Your Fate, and Captain’s of Your Soul” always!

Remember: “The Route Most Famous Gets You There (your destination) Faster…Not Better!

Continue reading “CONFINDENCE IN ONE’S OWN INDEPENDENCE – The Clarity of Objective Thoughts…”

PATHFINDER OF PASSION – The Naughty Colonel From Across The Way (Book #5)

Yes—Dr. Carl Gustav Jung said it best….“sometimes you have to do an unforgiveable thing: in order to going on living!” Nothing could have been further from the truth–when two, would be lovers, are trapped within the clutches of the dark place—PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)! Their passion for pushing the envelope was never reproachable—by anyone or anything!

IntroUnwitting Agents Of Passion

Looking back—from my prospective (SFC Lynne Luciano Retired)—the action’s by my fellow brethren’s (Colonel Pache’ and Elle) were indefensible…yet undeniable, at the same time. I believe anyone having to live and confront emotional and mental demons, on such an unprecedented level would be just as helpless or vulnerable: continually having to fight against one of the most powerful psychological forces on this earth───PTSD! Many, in and around our community (the military active and retired) call it the “dark place” for a reason. It is no wonder, these culprits of passion fell helplessly into one another’s LZ (landing zone). Please, trust me when I say…”the zone was hostile and hot”! The decision by Elle ,and the light Colonel (lieutenant Colonel not a full bird) to act as one another’s covert trusted agents (military nickname for confidant)—no matter how needful and dubious, seems to have been written by the faithless hand of “destiny” herself. Nonetheless, these capricious culprits were more than willing participants…not at first. But as the two became more brazen and carnivorous for mischief. Suffice it to say their scruples would have to just be damned…they wanted what they wanted(the unknown). Both agents, so to speak, knew full well that Elle was engaged to Colonel Kidd’s (a Full Bird Colonel) who lived just across the way. Pache’—married, himself, to a very striking and emotionally unstable southern bell from Florida—never wavered in his pursuit to feed the beast lurking in the darkness of his psyche. Yet, somewhere along their dubious and fascinating encounter with one another the two adopted the philosophy ,that together, they would either feast or famine. Moreover, there would be no straddling of fence───and no holds barred—-in their sensual tryst with one another. Despite the perpetuated depth of deceit between them of indifference—-neither party was stimulated only by his or her psychological torment. No, indeed it was their awareness of paralleled realities: which LTC Pache’ and Elle could hardly bear. Unable to love without trust or emotional connection is daunting at times, in and of itself. In lust and life…” sometimes you have to do an unthinkable and unforgivable thing…in order to go on living.” Elle and LTC Pache’ fit this cliché’ to the tee! To leave, or rather, escape the dark place “lust” between these trusted agents would not only become a sacred covenant, but from a mental prospective…one of life’s very needful things. Yes—-just like that Elle and Pache’ became one another’s, unwitting, sacred trusted agents of passion.

Moreover, if Pache’ and Elle were nothing else…the disillusioned lovers were pragmatist and existentialist, by nature—-meaning in love and life—-the two needed nothing or no one (outsiders were superfluous emotionally). Pursuing their lives with truculence wasn’t a sense of arrogance or apathy by these agents of primal neurosis. It was, unfortunately, a terrible sense of “self-preservation” via the libidinous capitulation (the hot and steamy eroticism) that was to come between them! Oh…make no mistake the agents knew their inner yearnings were corrupted by flawed desire, but clarity of thought took a back seat to the hunger and yearning waging war within their psyche’: and lust for that life. While caught in the clutches of the dark place our two ‘battle buddies” of their “pleasure covenant” slowly waged a peculiar type of psychological warfare against the demons of their darkness. Fear was the true catalyst and driving force behind their duplicitous love affair. And the exposure of these vulnerabilities gave way to one driving force between them–that their only recourse for survival would be to submerge themselves into one another with all the strength and forbearance the two could possible muster! Though conscious of their wrong doing underneath; bear in mind, the conscience mind is no match for the demons of the darkness. Any soldier or veteran who has been there, and lived to tell the story, can truly relate to this ill-fated couples connection and peril. The pleasure covenant needed sources to feed their strength and covetousness, at that time (one another). Internally, Elle and Pache’ were fighting against two very extraordinary and perplexing forces–right and wrong! This battle drew and kept them coming for one another, repeatedly, passionately and emotionally)! An emotionally greed that had become destined to either destroy or consume their lives covertly, of course!

We are all in awe i.e. myself included, of the fact that the LTC initiated this an entire sordid affair with his “so called” gesture of good will: something as simple as a thank you note left across the hall on Colonel Kidd’s door. You really gotta have a set of big ones to pull off such a brazen act: camouflaged by a more sinister agenda! The dark place is as mysterious…as it is perilous…inhibitions are often lost in transit. It often gives its captives the illusion of grandeur. The note simple read “thank you for the care package. I am most humble and grateful.” The salutation said nothing more than “thanks a million”. The more I elaborated, to myself, about this officer’s odd gesture the more I wanted answers. The only person who could draw this road map, plus provide me with a narrative that my cognitive and sensible mind could conceive was Elle herself. That said───I politely invited my “Battle Buddy” to brunch and martini’s. If she were going to provide me with a chronicled narrative of her and Pache’s affair of such a mental and emotional magnitude…she would need a push…okay maybe a shove! I couldn’t think of a better catalyst for the spurring her memory than top-shelf libations by the names of Belvedere, Chopin, and or Grey Goose. “Hell” …I am thinking that we both would need them by nights end!

I immediately phoned Elle: curiosity simply had the better of me. I remember it being very early one Wednesday morning. I expressed to her that she and I needed to have a “bitch session” about she and Pache’. There was a very long pause, and a few short sighs, but Elle finally agreed. We decided to meet at Season’s 52 for a mid-afternoon lunch: at 1330hrs. I remember plopping down on my chaise lounge, in my bedroom sighing to my own self. “Oh my Lord…what have I just done? “Have I just begun to push that proverbial envelope to far”…I thought to myself? Our brethren have a “cardinal rule” when it comes to reproaching the darkness, so to speak. Be extremely cautious landing in that PTSD mental zone…the LZ (landing zone) is always hot!