House of Imp06 – Friends – Dealing with people. Why is it so hard?

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A network of complications

Friends

– These words falter and fade into confusion as anxiety nags at and shreds all that I think I know. Third part, more talking, more thoughts recorded. .

Transcript

Friends, family, aquaintances. Just people.
How do you deal with it, them, with all of that.

When everything in your mind surrounds what I’ve talked about before; Imagination and control.
The more I think about it, the more I feel the problem.

Not always, but often enough.
To make me distant and hard to reach.
Unable to reach – myself.
It’s control. Over the imagination. Of what’s going on around me.
What do they think? What did they say? What should I say, what should I do?
What can I do, where can i go to understand what’s wrong.
It’s not them. But what’s what?
Anxiety. Is hard to deal with.
Anxiety is imagination gone wild. Gone astray. Gone sour.
I am working on it and it is working.
I can deal with little things.
But I can’t deal with these things.
These big things that

That hurt other people.

But I have no power over them.
I don’t know what they see when they see me and that I can’t deal with.
Because I have to open my eyes myself to see. I have to let go of the control.

The control that I somewhere think I have a right to.
But I don’t. Because it’s not all about me.

It’s not even remotely close to being all about me.
What I should say is:
Fuck the imagination, it’s not real.
I should say fuck the control cause it can’t be done.
I should.
I know.
I should.
And I will.
I will.

Jenny K Brennan – Dec 20 2013

December 18, 2013January 2, 2018

House of Imp 05 – Control – What the fuck…

Woman grabbed by darkness - Illustration

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A network of complications

Control – What the fuck just happened and why should it bother me so?

This is part two of this series of monologues about what it’s like to live in one’s own mind. I just talk, think,, talk more, and it makes little sense. But it helps me figure out what’s what. If I’m lucky.

Transcript

Control.

what is control

or rather, the lack of control, the feeling of powerlessness.
Not having control
Lack of control ccan be anything from not being paid what you think you deserve at work.
not getting the grade that you thought that superb essay was worth at school.
Not being able to deal with your children, or other people around you that just won’t behave the way you’d want them to.
It can be anything.
Control over.

Maybe you’re sick.
Maybe someone else is sick.
A lot of sick.
Maybe something is just going to hell.

You lose power, you lose control.
But thats… that’s the time to let go.

To let it be what it is.
You can not have control over other people.
Not in a deep way.
Not in a fundamental way.
You can influence other people and events.\
But you can’t have control.
Because…

It is what it is.
It will be what it will be.
And you can’t live that way.
Because things will happen, things will move on, people will change, whether you are there or not.

It is what it is.

But remember: When one door opens, another door invariably opens.
So, be in the moment.
Realize that you cannot change the world.
You can only change you.

And that’s ok.

Jenny K Brennan – Dec 18 2013

December 16, 2013January 2, 2018

House of Imp 04 – Imagination – A curse, a blessing – This is where I’m at.

The earth surrounded by stars while falling apart

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A network of complications

Imagination

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I rarely talk about this. I can’t seem to make it clear in my own head, never mind explaining it so it makes sense. However, I believe that a lot of people live it. Some are worse off than me. But it is what it is. And these are my thoughts right now. Selfcentered and confused as they may be; sometimes I just need to get it on tape, as it were.

Transcript

Imagination is a funny thing, isn’t it.

Quite amazing.
As far as creativity and the occasional release of thought and emotions.

If you think about it.
This galaxy is fucking big.
But you can hold it in your mind.
And yet

it is what it is.
Things are the way they are.
It is what it is.
Imagination can also be your worst enemy.
Fucking you up big time
Anxiety and fear.

It all comes from imagining the worst.
imagining what might be, what could have been, what should have been, what was, what wasn’t.
And it’s never quite correct.

It’s

perception.

It can heal, It can destroy.

and that’s my thought of the day.
I’m trying to train my imagination to make things better, so I can feel better, so I can get better.

And it is working.
It is working.

Jenny K Brennan – Dec 16 2013

June 21, 2013December 15, 2018

Audio production tidbit – Archived – Sonar for the blind – BypassBoost11 plugin window – fine-tune the inspector values

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Boost 11 tip for the pedantic

Boost 11 is a really great sounding Master bus compressor / limiter that comes with Cakewalk sonar. I use it in most every mix. it is not too drastic, is easy to set, and is one of few plugins I couldn’t be without in my productions. Mostly on the final stereo out but also sometimes on a drum bus, pre stereo out, or as drum bus paralell compression. Try it some time. Be gentle with it, but the serial compression might just give you exactly the sound you want. But I digress.

It actually is not all that hard to use even out of the box. For a sighted user it’s most likely nothing at all to it. Just drag the sliders with the mouse and you are done. But that’s not really interesting if you can’t see the slider or whatever knob may be in the plugin dialog. What we will do here is use the inspector while using JSonar and Freedom Scientific Jaws to set the values. Those who changed over to NVDA and it’s Sonar application that is currently under development, can use the exact same method.

The problem with Boost11 and it’s parameters is the difficulty to set exact values. When using JSonar and HotSpotClicker the method is normally as follows:

Open the boost11 dialog. Hit Ctrl 1 to access the output slider and Ctrl 2 for the boost slider. These can then be adjusted in large increments using PgUp and PgDn, in small increments using the up and down arrows. Pushing left and right arrow keys when on one of those controls is supposed to speak the current value. This does not always happen. Depending on the version of HotSpotClicker and JSonar used, the behaviour can be even stranger. In my own setup for example, once a value is changed a virtual mouse-click using numpad slash reads the value. After this the Boost 11 window has lost focus and I must Alt tab back to it.

After setting the desired value; Shift plus Alt plus P is supposed to activate the preset edit box. Once focused there, type a preset name, tab to the save button and hit enter. This sometimes actually works. This is by the way the way presets are saved in most of Sonar’s plugin windows.

Tip: If focus does not go to the edit box and you get a message about hotspot failed, no panic. Do this: Use the Jaws cursor, navigate to the preset edit box and double click it. Now you can type a new preset name and save it.

I’ve started to really get annoyed with this and feel that the Boost11 dialog is simply way too unreliable. It seems to me that values i set sometimes do not stay where I set them. So i got tired of it. This is the system i use now.

Start the inspector for the track where the plugin has been inserted.

Hotkey: i.

In the inspector display list; uncheck everything except the FX. That’s the easiest way. Specifically for this exercise you need to Set the inspector to display FX, set the module option FX item to show assignable controls.

Now we are ready. And since all projects need to have some type of goal, our goal will be to set the output value to -0.01. It’s as close to 0dB as we can get without it being there. So that is our goal. Let’s hit the numbers now.

One small increment i.e plus or minus keys on the numpad, in the inspector equals a 0.19dB change. One large increment i.e left and right bracket, equals a 0.80dB change. So just by following the numbers, this is what we can do:
When focused on the output field: Start at 0.0 and hit minus on the keypad. It will give the numbers as follows:
-0.19

-0.38

-0.57

-0.76

-0.94

Hit right bracket and end up with -0.14

(This is most likely as hot as i would ever want to go, but this is not about me. 😀
So we move on with the minus key:

-0.33

-0.52

-0.71

-0.90
hit Right bracket and end up with -0.10
And so on.

Now, we are getting closer. Without giving you the actual numbers, here’s what to do to reach -0.01dB.
Four hits on minus and one right bracket gets -0.06
Another four hits on minus and one right bracket gives us -0.01

TaDa!

For those wondering: can’t you just type in the value?

The answer is that in many plugins it can be done. For some reason, Boost11 values cannot be edited in that way.
In any plugin that will allow this there is a rather annoying glitch though: When entering a text box, typing the value and hitting enter, the inspector disappears. Well, actually Jaws loses focus and the inspector needs to be turned off with the hotkey I, and then turned on again with hotkey I. When back in the inspector one needs to navigate back to desired field. Not a big big dieal, but it is annoying as hell.

You ask: But what about automation and midi controllers?
I say: Sure. but that’s not for this post. We want exact values. there can be various reasons why an exact value is needed. Not very often, but as far as a limiter goes, it can be very useful.

Hope this helps and have fun mixing.

JennyK –

June 5, 2013January 25, 2020

Do blind people have super senses – or just exceptional skills? A point of view!

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Do Blind people actually have super senses?

A glance at one point of view

It is a very common and persistent idea; that blind people have super hearing and other enhanced senses. For example; a blind person will somehow, almost supernaturally, know you were talking about them. A blind person can, with a freaky uncanny precision, tell when you are about to touch him or her, or when you simply move around. They know. A blind person can sometimes turn to you and make eye-contact when talking to you.

Is that disturbing or what? They just know!

Do blind people acquire some kind of extra sense to make up for having no vision? Do they actually have, for example, super hearing? Let me give you my view on this myth.

The answer is: No.

And yes.

Human beings who were born blind, or somehow lost their vision later in life do not have senses that sighted human beings do not. That is pretty much a given. Anyone with any common sense can tell you that. As defined on Wikipedia’s page about “sense”, this is what the majority of humans are born with:

Humans have a multitude of senses. Sight (ophthalmoception), hearing (audioception), taste (gustaoception), smell (olfacoception or olfacception), and touch (tactioception) are the five traditionally recognized. While the ability to detect other stimuli beyond those governed by the traditional senses exists, including temperature (thermoception), kinesthetic sense (proprioception), pain (nociception), balance (equilibrioception), acceleration (kinesthesioception)[

This does not mean that these senses can’t change to a certain degree over time or that some have senses that seem stronger than others, someone’s ability to sense movement and space can vary widely. Some can taste that pinch of nutmeg in the moussaka while others don’t. It is the way of things that humans are a varied bunch, with varied abilities, and what would the world be without that beautiful variety? But basically we are all the same type of creature with the same set up of genes.

So why do I say the answer is yes? That the blind do have enhanced senses?

It is simple. We train for it. Consider this: Any audio engineer with half a skill will tell you that the most important part of working with sound is to listen. Any decent author will tell you that the best way to learn to write is to write. A marathon runner will tell you that the best way to practice for a marathon is, you guessed it, to run. Training, practice, persistence, and ten thousand hours of it will take you to the top.

When a person is robbed of the visual world, the surroundings turn into a relentless, merciless and constantly nagging personal trainer that hands out no periods of rest and no days off. Life is a training ground and when training is constant it doesn’t take long to get those ten thousand hours as prescribed by Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliars (2010) under the belt. It’s just, kind of inevitable. It’s practice 24/7.

So, with those ten thousand hours in mind, let’s quickly look at the numbers.

Assuming that the average person sleeps, or is otherwise indisposed, on an average nine hours per day. Fifteen hours of that day are then spent in training to make up for the senses not available. To end up with ten thousand hours and be very very good at something one needs to be training for 666 days. So according to this absolutely non scientific hypothesis, a person born blind is an expert blind person at the age of two. Isn’t that something? Hahaha. Joking aside and on a personal note; I’ve been visually impaired and then completely blind for just over ten years, meaning I have 5,475 hours per year over a period of ten years. That gives me 54,750 hours of training for this non-visual existence. I aught to be better at listening than most people. I should be better at sensing movements, feeling textures, smelling hints of spice in something I eat. I should be able to sense temperature changes, airflows, and hear what people are talking about across the room.

And I do. That is the point. I do sense people move around me, I hear the slightest murmur, I can feel the imperfections in a piece of furniture, I smell that slight evidence in milk on the verge of going bad. I train for it, every day, thus I’m good at it. Does that give me an advantage? At times it absolutely does. Is it supernatural? Nah, I’m not that lucky. It would be cool if it was. Fact is that I pay attention to sounds in a way sighted people rarely do, that’s why I hear things sighted people rarely hear. Makes sense?

So it’s all good then? No cons to this forced skill>?

The drawbacks of having arguably more acute senses are exactly the same as the advantages. I can hear people murmur about me from across the room, I can smell that awful stink from the milk about to go bad, I’m never happy with the finish of some wood furniture I’m polishing, and sudden movements and temperature changes make me a bit nervous. So no, it’s not all good. And it’s not all bad either. But truth is it’s really hard to unlearn over fifty thousand hours of daily practice.

But does that mean sighted people are at a disadvantage?

In a way, yes. Having sight means that training needs to be intentional. Visual stimuli must be in some way ignored and attention must focus on the other senses. That’s not an easy thing to do. In meditation there is often an aspect of growing one’s awareness of the surroundings. With eyes closed, the body calm, attention bypasses anything visual and a different world opens up in place of all the distractions. And distraction is exactly what it is. Joe and Graham makes the point very well in the The dangers of mixing with your eyes – episode of the Simply recording podcast.
Meditation is just an example of methods to make way for sensory training, and there are certainly many ways to do it if the will is there. For example ear training will make you hear better. Even if meditation is not the thing and even if it is in general harder for sighted people to focus on the auditory world doesn’t mean that sighted people can’t be just as supernaturally good at other senses like hearing. A musician or an audio engineer for example gets this training in by way of passion for sound. They can’t help living that training ground any more than a blind person can. They live it. Most people don’t.

One point of view concluded

. . A wholly non-visual world is a difficult concept for someone with sight, and that is understandable. It’s scary to consider and impossible to understand. Thus the stubborn myths of blind having super senses. We, as humans, fear what we don’t understand and will always try to place the unknown into a category that can be understood and explained. The myth is in this case not that far separated from the actual facts as far as the end result goes. It’s just not all that magical.

Blind people hear better because they are better at hearing

And perhaps it’s as simple as trying to understand how a concert pianist can play like that. It’s amazing. How can he possibly be that good? It’s almost supernatural what he does with his hands. Does that mean he is a super-human being?

Nah, chances are that he has at least ten thousand hours of practice and that is what makes him good at playing the piano. I have fifty thousand hours of practice in being blind. And that, dear reader, is what makes me good at being blind.

June 3, 2013October 17, 2014

Fearless – Chapter 13 – Erotica Bizarro LTD

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Fearless – A web novel

Chapter 13 – Erotica bizarro LTD

Ahead of my warden and oaf guard, I stepped out in the corridor. The gothic chamber was apparently the last room and the door opened up from a dead end corridor. There were three doors on the left, one on the right; open and ready for me. The three on my left were closed but details like that has never stopped me before. I grabbed the handle on the first door; securely locked. I moved on to the second, grabbed it and pulled. Two down, one to go. I heard steps behind me. Short hurried paces coming after me, but I ignored it. The third door opened niceley and I stepped through. Before I could close the door behind me, the dwarf stood in the way, glaring at me. I shrugged and looked around the small room that could be nothing but a control room for film or TV.

Cameras of every size and style, every age, seemed to crowd a huge cabinet on the far wall, next to a window that revealed nothing through tightly closed blinds. Metal barrs, stands I assumed, piles of gear I wouldn’t even know how to start explaining. Just stuff, and everywhere electronics. Knobs and buttons, mixers and microphones stacked on an overflowing row of shelves. Monitors, computer towers, cables, a couple of chairs and more than one regular keyboard. Abandoned styro foam cups, Skavenged bags of junk food and wrappers, and assorted scraps of paper, and the odd pen littered the big desk and linoleum flooring. Nothing seemed to be running, noone sat at the controls, nothing hummed and buzzed. It nonetheless looked like someone had been there not five minutes ago. Curious and curioser.

Garphy opened his yap to say something but he shut up and sighed as I spotted a pile of what looked like magazines and DVD cases on a shelf. I peeked at the top item, hiked up my brows, and picked it up with two fingers.

“Dames and dungeons?”, I picked up another one. “Succubus taming 101?” I picked up a glossy magazine and tried to open it. I had to settle with the title page and I held it up for Garphy to see. “Little people, giant dicks?” I grinned and dropped the sticky pages on the floor, watching Garphy’s backside as he disappeared through the door with a grunt and huff. I looked with more care around the room. A plaque above the desk read: “Erotica bizarro Production LTD”

“Oooh, makes perfect sense.” I looked at the two sleeze films in my hand, turned them over. True enough. Production Erotica Bizarro was the head behind the masterpieces I was holding. I thought about the shackles and the earthen floor. Pondering what scenes may have been shot in that environment made my head ache. I wasn’t stranger to a bit kinky, but dungeone orgies? Nah, not my cup of cum…. Pardon me, that was supposed to be tea wasn’t it? I sighed, took one more quick look around for anything that may be of use to me, found nothing obvious, and stepped out in the corridor again. Dinky caught my eye. “You didn’t.” I said to him. He stared at me for a long moment. Then his jaw dropped and his eyes grew enormous when understanding hit him. I was referring to the two movies I still held in one hand. He finally stammered something that sounded like denial. Very strongly emphasized denial. He shook his head violently and shut up, while trying not to look at the one breast peeking out of the loosely draped blanket. I stared hard at him for one more moment. I believed him. Or, but that thought was too horrific to contemplate, I wanted to believe him.

Garphy cleared his throat and I turned to him, passed him the dvd cases, and headed for the open door.

And the bath was truly marvellous. Long, hot, and gratifying. When the water turned a bit chilly, I drained some and topped up the huge tub, listening to the mutterings and complaints on the other side of the bathroom door. In all honesty, most of the mutterings came out of the dwarf. Dinky was out there too I was sure, blushing, trying to get over the fact that I was naked. Truly though, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me that way. He was the one charged with terrifying me, didn’t work but that’s beside the point, and tender me up a bit for the real thing. I didn’t get it. Dinky Meyers, the breath from hell, the giant oaf, the friendly puppy. He had been so sweet, and then that broadfooted puppet showed up and he had been flung back into reality, afraid of Garphy, wary of me. There was something very wrong with this whole scenario, besides the obvious wrongness of kidnapping and stolen money, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I pondered lightly on the problem as I lay soaking, scrubbing nails and massaging cleaners into every strand of hair, I splashed and scrubbed, wile grinning all to my self. Oh, I know it wasn’t truly funny. But it was. Lack of true fear wil do that to a person.

Wrinkled like a proone and perfectly free from stink and stiffness, I dried myself off, wrapped a soft towel around my hair, and stepped out in the huge bedroom. The The shock from going from dark stone and dirt to satin, glitter, and carpet one could hide ones feet in, hadn’t quite abandoned me. The room was huge; rather longer than it was wide. The far end sported a large window and a massive four poster bed, both draped in dark red velvet, matching the darker red of the carpet. The bed certainly took pride of place and sided with highly polished nightstands it was nothing less than impressive.

It was when I had first walked in there, seen the absurd bed, and turned from the monstrosity to see what was behind me; the half of the room from where I had entered that I had thought I had gone totally nuts. The carpet was the same, the rest of the room was fundamentally different. I faced two double beds standing side by side, a chair and small desk, no windows; only a door on the left leading to the corridor and another on the right standing open into a bathroom. There was no doubt about it. The scene couldnt have been mistaken for anything other than a medium prized hotel room in any hotel in any country. There was a TV mounted on the wall, a phone and notepad on the desk, and a sign hanging on the doorknob. I turned around and took a closer look at the walls as I scanned the transition from motel to the King’s quarters. The room was cut in half. A non-descript beige turned into dark wooden panelling and exclusive trim, stipled ceiling. “Wow.” I breathed.

Suddenly and without a sound, Garphy came up to me. He had peered up at me, looking more like an inquisitive little pug than anything human. “A penny for your thoughts precious lady? He said and for the first time I felt something oddly like true curiosity about the creature next to me. His mood swings were just one of the many facets of this uncut jewel of mystery. I had no reason whatsoever to make it easy on them. But I couldn’t for the life of me muster any ill will toward either one of them. Not even after threatening my friend. I looked around one more time but my mind felt like a puddle of mud and it turned too slow to be functional. “I’ll give you all of my thoughts for absolutely free little fella, but unfortunately I’m fresh out of think.”

Garphy chuckled. “This way MiLady.” He turned and wabbled off to the two normal beds where dinky had already occupied one. “Take your time.” He told me without looking at me further. Okey. I thought and dropped the blanket where I stood.

Presently I looked around the room. Garphy was out, getting me something to wear. I hoped that he understood my simple instructions; size five, shoes size six, underwear, jeans, t-shirt, sweater. Anything would be better than the ratty stuff I had worn when getting into bed last night. I’m not picky. The clothes hadn’t arrived yet though and I couldn’t help it. Naked as a newborn babe again, I kept running my hand through my hair. It was as if I had never been clean before.
Smooth and silky. My skin was too, but I had enough self control to keep my hands off my skin at least. Or did I? Glancing at the bottle of lotion on the nightstand, I decided I didn’t. And why would I? I squirted a generous amount into my hand and looked at my watcher.

I was alone with my thoughts and Dinky. At the moment, those two things were one and the same though. He lay on the second of the two twin sized beds, chewing frantically on something that spread its smel throughout the little room, overpowering even the lingering aromas of schampoo and scented bath-salt. Spearmint? I smiled. I sat at the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted in the worn carpet, looking at him while rubbing lotion into my arms, legs, belly, hips. You get the picture. It seemed as if Dinky’s jaws should crack from the constant abuse of the chewing gum, but if his jaws were as strong as his arms I guessed it would be okay. The danger I could see though, was a possible popping out of eyeballs. But he wasn’t looking at me, oh no, dinky wouldn’t look at me before I had stopped being so naked.

Chew, chew, chew, stare into the ceiling. Good for you. I thought. “Why do you do it?” I asked and pulled a foot up to rub lotion on my heel, toes, between my toes. I heard movement and increased jaw activity. He didn’t answer. Finished softening up my foot, I dropped it back to the floor and looked at him. Dinky’s eyes were closed now. “Dinky!” I said, sharply, to get his attention as if I didn’t have it already. He jerked and chewed, opened one eye and rolled the eyeball toard me and shut it tight just as fast.

“He’s not so bad.” Dinky finally said around the huge lump of gum.

“Not so bad huh?” I pondered this for a moment. “Okay, let’s pretend he’s not so bad then. Why do you do it?” I picked up my other foot.

“I don’t know.” He said, barely audible, seriously distorted by the chew, chew, slop, smack. I stood up, grabbed the waste basket and walked over to Dink and held it out to him. “Spit!” I barked. Dinky discarded the gum into the basket. “Good boy.” I said and returned to the other bed.

“So, can you tell me anything? Anything at all?”

Dinky just shook his head and remain stubbornly silent. I thought I’d go around the brick wall he put up. I had to get him to talk. Somehow. I frowned, tried to think. “Why did I have to be naked?” Dinky uttered a choked gurgle and his shovels of hands fisted even harder, the knuckles turned even whiter. Oh, wrong angle. I’d save that one for the goblin. I tried again. “Did he run away from a circus or something? I mean I have nothing against odd looking folks, but I can’t imagine him working in a bank. Can you?”

Dinky’s mouth actually twitched a little bit. Encouraging. “What is he to you anyways?” I asked, casually administering lotion on places I might have missed, studiously avoiding to look at him, I heard a choking sound knew I had caught him looking. I pretended not to notice as I worked my other breast.

Yeah, I know I know. I should be a bit more careful when naked in a room with a giant beast of the male persuation. I didn’t see any reason to be, even if I had been capable. Garphy was no idiot. Before taking off, locking the door behind him, he had fixed Dinky with an icy stare and said. “Don’t touch.” While pointing at me. And Dinky, wel trained as he was, wouldn’t touch. I know that wouldn’t be much of a comfort for most women. But as I have mentioned before, I’m not most women. God knows my mother told me enough times that I wasn’t like other girls, not even remotely like other children, or in any way like other human beings at all. I do think that was a we bit harsh coming from ones mother, but if you knew my mother…

So I added a bit more lotion on my backside with no fear of rape. Hell, Dinky wasn’t capable of contemplating making a pass at me, no less come up with something indecent to say. Poor guy. I can be wicked when I want to be. So far I’ve been an angel, trust me. I was just in the process of devicing a strategy to get Dinky to talk, when something totally different caught my attention. I shouldn’t have been surprised, knowing what this place was, but it struck me how I could have escaped seeing it before. In each corner of the room, neatly inserted into the wall, below a fairly innocent looking decorative trim, were a number of camera lenses. Oh, I’ll be damned. I let my eyes go from one to the other. There were no blinking little lights on any of them, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. But they did look very much like regular semi expensive surveillance cameras; large enough to not be considered hidden, and discrete enough not to bother customers with their constant stare. Interesting. I wondered if anyone sat at the other end of those peeping Samsungs. There hadn’t been anyone in the control room before but again, that didn’t mean anything. I glanced at the oaf and frowned.

“What would happen if I tried to get out of here?”

Dinky didn’t even glance at me. “Can’t.” He mumbled.

“What? Ponzi will give you grief if I disappear?”

Dinky actually jerked. If the gum had still been in his mouth, he would have choked on it. He stared at me. Was that horror? I wasn’t sure. But the giants face paled behind all the facial hair. . His mouth opened. For one excrutiatingly long held breath, he decided however, that he had nothing to say.

I jumped off the bed. “Okay there Big Bubba, you give me no choice.” I took one step and crawled up on the other bed, straddled dinky who lay paralyzed, and started tearing at his leather vest. “If you wont talk, I’ll just have to make it difficult on you. His big hands rose from the bed. I glared at him and held up a hand palm out, “Don’t touch! Your friend said. If you touch me, what’s going to happen to you when he finds out? What if I…” I tugged at his beard, saw his eyes bulge, and felt his entire body tremble in restrained horror. Nah, it was horrified horniness more than anything, but I couldn’t be concerned with that right now. I grabbed the leather thongs holding the leather vest together and undid the top one, then the second. Dinky’s hands flayeled in the air right next to my shoulders. He scooted back a distance, but I held him firmly around the waist with my thighs and his squirming didn’t help. “What if Garphy would come in right now? With your clothes all undone.” I quickly untied the rest of the fastening and tore the vest open. I gripped the t-shirt and ripped it out of the pants, revealing dark curly hair and very cute male nipples peeking out from the furry chest.

“No, stop.” Dinky croaked. “Miss Malone, don’t.”

I ignored the pleading and reached for the belt buckle.

To be continued…

Don’t you just hate that? Well, that is it. Unless i have started writing sometime in the past week or so, this is as far as Marcy and Dinky will take it. Where is the money? Who the hell is Garphy and what is Ponzie up to? Well, i don’t know. I do know That Guy has a secret like no other, Amy might have a sleeve or two up her card which are a few short of a full deck by the way. Speaking of Amy; where the hell is she? Is she really in danger? How come Marcy is so happy about this little roadtrip of hers?

You tell me why don’t you. I do have some of those answers, and a few tidbits up my own sleeve, but will we ever really get to know?