Last week Simon was kind enough to share some of my writing which was dark and I think a bit vicious to some extent. It came from a destructive relationship from many years ago. If you would like to read it, here you go: Shut Out As for Simon, well, he’s been an amazing friend throughout the years. We’ve collaborated a few times on a blog or two with some steamy stuff. I think we wrote some incredible things together. But, as life goes, work gets the best of us each time. I miss those days of writing and letting my mind wonder.
That’s why we’ve decided to do these takeovers. It encourages us to write more and to do something quite different than our normal routines. Simon is an exceptional writer. He blows my mind sometimes with the things he comes up with. Enjoy this short story and stop over and tell him I sent you Planet Simon He will be a lifelong friend and loves new followers. Once you chat with Simon, you’ll feel like you’ve known him for years. He’s sweet, caring, funny, talented, and quite the lovable guy. Enjoy loves!
It was 1966 and my Dad had joined the Army in hopes of fighting for our beautiful country The USA. He was pumped to be going to Vietnam. First stop was Germany. Germany was a blast and the beer and women were endless. He was a MP for a year and came home for a quick visit and would soon be flying over to Vietnam, his dream was about to happen.
My Dad you see was one of those hell bent kinda guys that wanted to be the bad ass mother fucker to go in with guns blazing. Little did he know that my Grandmother had other plans.
While home visiting his parents on that short break in the US he received a call from a Lieutenant. The Lieutenant informed my Dad that he would be reporting for duty at a Fort in the US and would not be returning to Germany or going to Vietnam as he was the sole surviving son of a disabled veteran.
At the time my Dad’s father was sitting in a recliner right there as my Dad was listening to the Lieutenant informing him of this on the phone. His Father sitting in that recliner was not disabled at all. As my Dad began to ask questions the Lieutenant didn’t elaborate and told him to report for duty at the Fort on a certain date and hung up.
My Grandmother was crying and praying out loud as my Dad hung up the phone. She then sat my Dad down and explained how thankful she was that she had contacted the officials to inform them that his “Real Father” was a disabled veteran and he was the sole surviving son. She continued to cry explaining the story to my Dad about how she was married before and he was an alcoholic and abusive. She had to leave him to keep them safe and from harms way. She said she had to contact the officials to keep my Dad from going to Vietnam as she couldn’t bare to lose him. My Dad was in shock but never even asked where his real father was and had no interest at all in meeting him ever. He loved the father that had raised him and that’s all that mattered to him.
Two years later my Grandmother told my Dad that his “Real Father” had passed away and how she wanted him to go to his funeral which was out of state. My Dad went to pay his respects but didn’t speak to anyone at the funeral home but just signed the guest book. He looked at the man in the casket and walked away. He had no feelings whatsoever for this stranger. He was happy it was over with.
Later in life I found out about all of this and had questions. I wanted to know everything I could about my “Real Grandfather” I wanted to know his story. What happened to him later in life? What did he die from? Did he ever remarry? Why was he abusive? I wanted to know everything and anything I could. My Grandmother told me his last name but only after I begged and pleaded for days. She wouldn’t even tell me his first name. My Dad resisted the whole idea and said I was wasting my time.
When I told my Mom how I wanted to find out more about my Grandfather she told me that my Grandmother had confided in her many years ago and had probably forgotten now that she was 77 years old.
My Mom began to tell me the real story…….My Grandmother had married him, a soldier that was about to go to World War II back in 1946. She was so in love with him. He was the most handsome and charming man she’d ever met. He had Elvis’ features and adored her. He honestly loved her. My Grandma used to model hosiery in the boutique windows in town. And when he first laid eyes on her he had to meet her. He went to the local florist and bought her one red rose and went back to the boutique and introduced himself. It was literally love at first sight. They got married right before he left for the war. A few months later she discovered she was pregnant with my Dad.
She gave birth to my Dad in 1947 alone in a hospital. My “Real Grandfather” was still fighting in WWII. She went home with her newborn baby boy and about six months later some officers came to the door and told her that her husband had been in a terrible accident. His brigade had been hit hard. His body had been burned severely. He was in multiple hospitals for months and when he did come home he was barely recognizable. She welcomed him home with tears, affection and much love. He was ashamed of the way he looked, constantly in pain, and suffering mentally. He turned to alcohol and began abusing my Grandmother. She tried hard to hang in there and to endure the abuse but finally had to leave for her and my Dad’s safety. He never laid a hand on my Dad as he was approximately 8 months old when she left. She never looked back.
I’m happy that my Grandmother was strong enough to leave him and found a better life for her and my Dad. I’m extremely proud of her. I don’t understand why she never told my Dad the whole story though. She had been caught in many fabrications in her lifetime by my Dad and my Aunts. That’s neither here nor there as my Mom always says.
But, I wanted to find out more about my “Real Grandfather”. What happened to him, why did he die, what type of life did he live after she left him? Did he remarry? Did he have more children?
Again, remember, My Dad and Grandmother didn’t want me to find any information and were very uncooperative. All I had was a last name and the approximate year he died.
It was June 1998 when I began my search. Three months prior to Google, might I add. So, where to begin? I wanted the death certificate. I figured that would be a good start. So, I called Vital Records in the county/town where my Grandmother was born. They had to mail me a form to sign. I forged my Father’s name because he wouldn’t sign it. They sent me another form stating they didn’t have enough information to go on to give me a death certificate. Remember, all I had was a last name and a year that he died. I decided to write a heartfelt letter telling them the story and how I just wanted to know if I had any other relatives and what he died from. At this point even just having his first name would mean something to me. I had to find out something about this man. He fought for our country and he deserved to be known no matter what hell he put my Grandmother through.
A few days later a woman called me from Vital Records and told me she really shouldn’t be calling me but my letter spoke to her. She asked for my Dad’s name and she found his birth certificate and there was my Grandfather’s complete name on it. I would share it with you but for privacy reasons I cannot. But when she called out his name I began to cry. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it. I got chills up my spine. I finally had his first name. It was a beautiful name. She told me she was sending me the death certificate that day. Two days later I received it. He had died of cirrhosis of the liver. He was 5’11. He was divorced. He was born on the 4th of July. My heart skipped a beat. It had his Mother and Father’s names on the certificate as well. I felt a sense of pride.
I then decided to call the funeral home / cemetery that he was buried at to see if I could get some information on surviving family members. The woman there was kind enough to give me a list of pallbearers and a few relatives. Keep in mind, there’s no facebook, my space, google, bing, nothing. I somehow find addresses for some of the pallbearers and mail individual letters to each of them in hopes that they can tell me more. Two older gents were roommates in an assisted living home and received my letter. They immediately got in their car and drove to my Grandfather’s niece’s house and hand delivered my letter to her. She adored my Grandfather and was very close to him. She called one night and told me who she was and how these two gent’s brought her my letter. She cried and I cried. She told me that after my Grandmother left him that his drinking got worse. He loved my Grandmother and my Dad more than anything but the burning of his body and the alcohol got to him. She said he used to tell her “Mike’s coming to see me one day, I just know it.” She said he had an 8 X 10 picture of my Dad and my Grandma that he always kept near him. He did remarry but then divorced. She said he never had any other children. My Dad was his only child. She said he got so sick from the cirrhosis that he was in the hospital for 39 days before he passed away. She said on the 37th day a preacher came to speak with him and prayed with him. My Grandfather prayed for forgiveness and accepted Jesus Christ into his heart as his Lord and Savior. He was saved two days before he passed away. I take great comfort in knowing that he was saved as one day I will meet him in Heaven for the very first time.
His niece Kitty told me many stories about him and how he loved my father and my Grandmother more than life itself. She was kind enough to send me pictures of my Grandfather. She sent me one before he went to war. My God, he really was a handsome man. I see my Dad in his face and I even see myself. She also sent me a picture after he had been burned. She told me he had over seventy surgeries in his lifetime to help with the inflicted burns. His face didn’t look bad at all. It looked kind, weathered, and sweet. But in that one single picture of him after being burned, right behind him was that 8 X 10 of my beautiful Grandmother and my Dad as a baby. They were there all along right by his side and seeing that picture behind him I knew without any doubt he honestly loved them and never ever forgot them.
It took me over a year to find the courage to put all of this together and to show my Dad. I was afraid to show him in fact. I knew he wanted nothing to do with me finding my Grandfather’s information and he always said he didn’t want to know a damn thing about him. You see, my Grandmother didn’t tell my Dad that he was attacked in WWII and burned practically to death. I know she had to leave him. I don’t blame her one bit for that. She did what was right for her and my Dad. But, I wanted him to know that he was loved by his father that was a disabled veteran. By now my Grandmother had passed away. I waited to tell my Dad any of this out of respect for my Grandmother.
I kept copies of the death certificate, that heartfelt letter I wrote to Vital records, even the letters I mailed to the pallbearers in a folder along with my Grandfather’s two single pictures. When I presented all of this to my Dad he didn’t get angry and he didn’t fuss at me. He wept. He literally just cried and held me. When he finally gained his composure, he said to me, “You did the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me. You showed me that my Dad loved me.”
This was heart wrenching for me to write. It’s extremely close to my heart and very personal.
But, it’s an honor to share my Grandfather’s story. Although he was an alcoholic and an abuser, he was a soldier first and foremost. He gave his ALL to this country and for that I admire, respect and am ever so grateful for his duty to this land of the free. He lost a lot after going to war and it changed his life in so many tragic ways.
I look forward to meeting you one day Pop in heaven. That’s what I’ve been calling you in my heart…..hope you don’t mind.
Happy Halloween My Little Goblins,
A few weeks ago I wrote this fetching little tale for my entry in Tess’s Wicked Wednesday blog. If you enjoy mysterious erotica sex stories, she’s your hook up. Check her out at https://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/99069366
In the spirit of Halloween I thought I would share with you my first short story I’ve written. I mentioned earlier in the week that I might dabble in the sex blogging once a week so here’s the first one for you Trick Or Treaters.
Carried Away In The Big Easy
One of the Partners at the firm invited me to his Halloween party. Rarely had I been out in the last two years since I was trying to prove myself. I was the youngest attorney and had just won my eleventh case. Cause for celebration don’t you think? The party was going to be one of a kind. He had rented out an old funeral home and was having an open bar with an incredible DJ spinning some serious beats.
Now, what will my costume be?
A Witch? A Devil? Or A Maid?
I needed something unusual and something that would hide my identity. This was just in case I wanted to prowl around and get into something out of the ordinary.
That’s it! CAT WOMAN! Yes! Why not show off my curves tonight. Let’s face it, I’m blonde, blue eyed, 5’9”, 129 lbs, nice rack, hour glass is in check. Purrrrfect!
The night had arrived and I was beyond ready. I must say I looked incredible. My full lips were shimmering with my favorite lollipop red lipstick. Although I was wearing the mask I decided to wear my hair down. Why not show off the blonde locks since every single day I wear it up in a messy bun. I wanted to be someone other than Poppy tonight. I wanted to be someone reckless and daring.
The leather felt righteous against my skin. This costume really showed off my hips and my tits. The thigh high platform boots made me feel superior. The limo picked me up and off I went. As I entered the party a Lurch greeted me with a glass of champagne on a tray. Oh! How I love the bubbly. It always makes me feel kittenish. I walk over to the bar where I see Luke Skywalker AKA “The Partner” that is throwing this magnificent Halloween party. I might need to check out Star Wars because Luke was killin’ it. I know, where have I been to have never seen Star Wars?
Honestly, “The Partner” and I really don’t know each other well at all. He knows nothing about me personally. He makes eye contact with me and asks “Would you like another drink?”
I’m shaking in my boots at this point and wondering does he recognize me? In a fake Jersey accent I quickly reply “Of course I would love another drink.” (Note: I was in drama club in High School and had it perfected)
He orders me a Tombstone Tea. He leans into my ear and whispers “It’s refreshing but will put a spell on you.”
Is he hitting on me? Well, this could be the dare that I’m looking for this evening. Yes! Winning!
I’ve never noticed how green his eyes are. He has this extremely deep voice and even with these kick ass boots I’m wearing he’s still towering me. He introduces himself and I stretch out my hand introducing myself as Finn, a girl that came with a date that I can’t find and how I’m really not “feeling it” and how I’m trying to ditch this guy. He assures me that he can help with that. Hmmm… Oh really?
After three tombstone teas and four glasses of champagne I find myself arm and arm with “The Partner” walking down Frenchmen Street passing the bars and giggling at whatever he’s saying in my ear.
He stops abruptly and says “I’m going to take you to one of my favorite haunts.” We take a turn down a dark alley and just a few feet away I see a wrought iron archway. There’s a sign but it’s dark and my vision is blurry at this point. I’m feeling fantastical and will go wherever “The Partner” wants to take me.
As we enter the gate he suddenly scoops me up like a child and carries me. “I wouldn’t want you to stumble and hurt yourself in those boots Finn. This cobblestone is broken in some spots.” I could get used to this…I put my arms around his neck and within just a few steps I realize we’re in a cemetery. The full moon is shining on the graves as if covered in glitter. This is nightmarish but also enchanting.
He carries me up a couple of steps and gently puts me down while he opens this shrill sounding door. He grabs my hand and pulls me into this tiny little dark room. He suddenly grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back and begins kissing my neck. I immediately get chills up my spine. He then lifts me up onto his waist and I wrap my legs around him as he walks me over to something behind me and props me up on it. His kisses are hard and wet.
He’s drinking me in. He tastes like caramel and whiskey. His tongue is delicious and wanting.
My mind says Stop – Don’t do this. I kept thinking, this is “The Partner” at my firm and I really shouldn’t be making out with him. Truth was, I wanted him badly. His lips were full like mine. He bit my bottom lip and the blood tasted so sweet. God, this man was fucking hot.
He picks me up off of whatever I was propped up on and flips me around facing the wall and I put my hands on something to hold myself up and realize it’s a casket. What the fuck? Oh my god, this is fucking incredible. I’m about to fuck “The Partner” in a crypt. As he unzips my cat suit and rips it down to my knees the anticipation of him touching me is beyond intoxicating. I’m wearing no panties or bra. All access approved!
He put his arm around my waist to hold me in place and then began teasing my nipple with his fingers. He grabs my face and turns it towards his and starts kissing me again. His taste is addicting. Soon his tongue is licking my ear and he whispers “How bad do you want me to fuck you Finn?” Words couldn’t escape my mouth. I just whimpered under his grip. He took his knee and pushed my legs apart and brought his hand down to my clit. His fingers were melting me. My knees were weak and I held back on screaming his name.
He suddenly stopped and I heard his zipper come down and instantly he gained entry into my tight little passage. As he entered me he let out a rough low “Fuck.” He stood there not moving with that superb cock inside of me taunting me by standing still. I wanted him to fuck me until I collapsed but instead he was taking it all in, literally.
He whispered in that deep voice, “Are you ready Finn?” I was ready but also edgy, could I handle him? I loved the feeling of fullness in my narrow tunnel.
He grabbed my hips tight, pulled me backwards and then pushed my back to where my head was between my legs. I could see his knees at this point due to the moon glaring through the stained glass. I loved the way he was taking control over me, but I wanted more.
He knew how to take me and he knew how to make me beg. I finally had all I could take and I started grinding into him. He took me by surprise with this strength and fucked me hard and fast and with ill intention. Right when I was about to cum he pulled his cock out and pulled me up and turned me to face him. My mask was still on and he reached to take it off and I quickly got to my knees and licked and sucked his glorious shaft. He was growling and then pulled me up and looked me in the eyes and said “Just let me fuck you.”
The way he said it sounded like he couldn’t live without it.
He had to have it.
He picked me up and I put my legs around him and he did exactly that. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before. Every time he would thrust I would bounce breathless. There was a connection between us. We were driven and consumed with each other. When I came with him it was the feeling of being upside down in a roller coaster. It was absolutely thrilling.
As he hailed a cab for me he hands me his card and asks “Can I see you again Finn?” As I slide into the cab and look up at him I wink and whisper “Maybe” and as the cab pulls away I sigh with my kittenish grin.
Monday Morning arrives and I’m going over my notes for my case. I hear a knock on my office door, “Come in”. A delivery guy has me sign for a long white box with a beautiful black bow. The card reads “Finn AKA Poppy, Please enjoy these beautiful red poppies. I have to see you again. Meet me in the lobby downstairs at 8 pm. Since you’ve never seen Star Wars I thought it was about time. Your Jersey accent was outstanding but I knew it was you all along.”
He sent me poppies? Really? No one has ever done that before. How did he know? “Fuck.”