Wednesday, October 31, 2012

The Girl Next Door And The Garden of Jamie and Lamar..

Happy Halloween! Did everyone make it through the Frankenstorm safe and sound? Ready to find out a little more about our un-named girl-next-door from last night?


“Wow,” she breathed to herself as she looked around the Star Dust Club in amazement. She made no attempt to look jaded or sophisticated as she saw people she’d only seen on the covers of magazines or in movies. Others looked like they belonged in movies or on the covers of Fortune or Cosmo but she didn’t recognize them. Here she was, a secretary at a car dealership dressed in her own non-sultry lingerie with her nice-but-not-fantastic figure and mile high purple fuck-me shoes and there they were, dressed in costumes that probably cost more than she made in a month that covered much less skin. And every inch of that skin looked perfect, even on the fifty-something daytime TV actress who’d just walked by.

Any other time, she might have been intimidated by the shear opulence of the club or its clientele but not tonight. She’d had to fork over $500 for this ticket and she was going to enjoy herself! Besides, she really was covered by more cloth than most of the people here—mainly because most of them were wearing body paint or painted-on latex “costumes.” She wasn’t some car sales manager’s secretary tonight. She was a girl-next-door checking out all the things her mamma warned her about. Literally. Oh. My. God. Was that Mario Lopez over there wearing skin-tight leather assless chaps???

Yeah, this was not a night where it mattered who saw her so long as she got to see lots more butts like that! And whoever that hot guy painted like the Garden of Eden complete with the snake was ought to be in Playgirl with a slong like that! Just as she finished that thought, she hear the owner of that trouser snake, a hunky redhead with a sexy syrup voice, chastise the lady—or rather guy—next to him about the costume selection. It seemed the “Eve” clinging to one of his tree branch arms was named Lamar and he was usually the one who dressed up like a snake. Or something like that; it was hard to catch the exact meaning behind some of the conversations she was shamelessly listening in on with her eyes bugged out like they were.

“Glass of bubbly?”

She dragged her eyes away from “Eve”—she’d been trying to figure out where the lovely Lamar was hiding his own trouser snake in that skimpy outfit—to find a waiter wearing a bow tie, black undies, formal white gloves and nothing else. He had a try of sparking orange and black beverages in one hand and was offering he a glass.

“Is there a difference in taste between them?” she asked the waiter. He cocked his head in confusion.

“Between the orange and black bubbly?” she clarified.

“Oh!” he said with a smile. “Yes, the orange in just colored campaign and the black is carbonated blood-whiskey.”

“I’ll have an orange bubbly then,” she said with a grin. He grinned back with a saucy wink as he handed her a drink.

“I have to ask,” he said peaking down at her cotton undie-clad body. “What are you dressed as?”

“Why I’m the girl next door with a big naughty secret,” she said, batting her purple-tinted eyes as she showed him the giant envelope in her other hand. It had started off the night as one of those cheesy giant Halmark cards but a little judicious use of Sharpies had made it the pièce de résistance of her “costume.”

“I love it!” She looked over to see that Eden and Eve had joined her. The waiter walked off and the two hunks in front of her grinned.

“We noticed you eyeing us earlier,” Eve said. “And then we noticed your costume and just had to come over and introduce ourselves to someone who managed to be unique as to wear actual cotton undies to a party like this.”

“The best way to be unique,” she replied, making it up as she went along, “is to do what no one else is doing. I felt it would be a safe bet that no one else was going to wear pretty but plain cotton lingerie to a Star Dust Halloween event, so…” She finished off with a saucy grin of her own.

“Well, I like it,” Eden said in his salty sweet Southern drawl. “Sometimes it’s sexier to only hint at the treats below,” he said, shooting a hard glare at the unrepentant Lamar. “My name’s Jamie, by the way and this is Lamar.”

“Hi! I’m… not telling you my name,”: she finished off in a hurry.

“Oh?” Lamar asked. “You didn’t strike me as a wilting flower. No one’s going to judge you for being here, only on the quality of your costume. And sugar, your costume rocks.”

“No, no. I’m not worried about being judged. It’s just that I found out my ex is bringing his new 18-year-old girlfriend here tonight. Rather than miss out, I’m aiming to just avoid them. They can’t track me down if they don’t know I’m here.” That last bit wasn’t made-up at all. She did just find out that Jack, that sleaze ball was bringing his boss’s teenage daughter just yesterday, well after she’d bought her ticket. “Since I have no intention of follow him and his date around, I figured I’d just avoid them and then drop names of who was here tonight the next time I see him. That would be better revenge than seeking him out and giving him the cold shoulder, anyway.”

“Oh! Oh, I knew I loved you!” Lamar said, giving her a huge hug. Wow, he was clingy, she thought.

“I have a better idea,” Jamie said with a sneaky grin.


“Make sure he sees you but rather than giving him the cold shoulder, introduce him to your own hot date.”

“Yes,” Lamar said as a sly look crept over his own face. “And we’ve got just the guy for you to plot your revenge with!”

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

"Polar bear. Right?"

Fish, peanut butter and cod liver oil treats were hidden inside jack o' lanterns for the polar bears at the Hanover zoo in Hanover, Germany on Oct. 25, 2012. (AP Photo/Nigel Treblin)

Happy Howl-o-ween, shapeshifter lovers!

All good thoughts, vibes, and prayers to everyone who is affected by the Frankenstorm, as it's been called.

It was a harrowing day emotionally, and with Superstorm Sandy brutally striking the east coast, focusing on writing a post was difficult. And seemed somehow inappropriate.

However, I hope you enjoy this little flash scene I conjured up.


"Polar bear. Right?"

"Polar bear. Right?"

The woman wearing an elaborate mask of white feathers and rhinestones spoke in a lilting lovely voice. Dhukalos, glad for his own concealing mask, roved his gaze over her nearly naked body, concealed only by a sheer white flowing garment adorned with glittery stars and moons.

Compared to his size, she was a petite thing. On the slim side, the woman reminded Dhukalos of a fairy swan princess. Although, he well knew by her enticing fragrance, she wasn't a swan shifter. What her supernatural kind was, he couldn't say, and that intrigued him further.

New to the social scene in Talbot's Peak, and having just escaped the zoo, Dhukalos felt at a very distinct disadvantage. Somehow Dante had convinced him to attend the Haunted Masquerade Ball at his elegant supperclub.

"Yes," Dhukalos performed a small bow, "you have guessed correctly. I am sorry to say I cannot return the favor." 

His swan princess smiled, and Dhukalos mentally licked his lips as he stared at her pretty mouth. He wanted to kiss her lush rosy lips. However, he'd never had the pleasure of kissing any woman. Except his mother and her kin before he'd been captured as an older cub.

"I would say also you are the descendent of a royal lineage known as the Vexyrth." With a triumphant tilt of her head, the woman regarded him. Her ice green eyes glistened with confidence.

Flummoxed to his core, Dhukalos possessed not a clue how to respond. He sensed no malevolence toward him or his kind. Yet, secrecy was prized because of ruthless enemies that had hunted the Vexyrth for over a century.

He offered a smile, then his arm. "I'm not at liberty to discuss my lineage. Would you care to dance?"

"I can't resist." His swan princess twined her arm with his. "You're a striking figure, and I've always had a fondness for long locks of white hair. In your case, my mysterious polar bear, white hair tinted with gold and... I believe... the color sienna."

"You are the irresistible mystery, lovely woman. Why does my nose fail me in identifying your kind?"

Dhukalos enfolded her in his embrace, and silently thanked his dance instructor for her diligence in teaching him the popular ballroom styles. Even Gypsy Red Wolf had refined his technique, learned so long ago with his extended family, deep in the warm colossal caves of the Arctic.

"Perhaps, because I am not a shapeshifter, Mr. Polar Bear."

With superb grace his swan princess followed his lead, and felt so fragile and seductive, Dhukalos couldn't help but wonder what she would feel like in the throes of passion. His own limited experience came back to haunt him in these moments.

While in captivity at the zoo, he'd only been able to manage a sexual liaison with two women. After learning how to control the camera inside his enclosure, Dhukalos had shifted at night, pretending to be part of the cleanup crew.

Coupling lust had ruled the two women. The romance and kissing he'd seen, while with his extended shifter family, seemed foreign to their natures. Even so, the second woman, unknown to her, had provided his opportunity for escape.

With the arrival of a delivery truck, Dhukalos had taken advantage, relieving the driver of his uniform. Next, he claimed he'd lost his key card, and the woman, a new employee, had opened the gate. Freeing him.

"Not a shapeshifter," Dhukalos whispered near her delicate ear. "You feel as dainty as a fairy in my arms."

"You could say, I am a Seer."

She pressed closer, and Dhukalos tightened his hold on her slender waist. To his fortune, the melodic lively music guided his steps.

Already, he was lost in her unusually radiant eyes. The feel of his masquerade swan princess against him, her soft firm breasts -- Dhukalos never wanted to let her go.

'Seer' echoed through him, and a faint memory began tugging at him. Like an apparition it teased the edges of his mind... until...

On instinct, Dhukalos spun the legendary being from the dance floor, then stopped in his tracks. "Mermaid," he spoke only what he could say about her identity.

She lightly placed her hand on his chest, her gaze thanking him for his discretion. "Yes, my polar bear, you do remember the teachings of your youth." She slipped her hand downward in a caress. "To explain what you wish to know, I am here to assist 'the' Dante, as we speak of him, with my gifts to 'mind-see' those who would harm him, and destroy Talbot's Peak."

She smiled, captivating Dhukalos completely. "That is how I found you after you escaped the zoo."

"And sent those my way to tell me about this haven for shapeshifters," Dhukalos finished, hearing her thoughts clear as ice.

"I knew you could not return to your family at this time."

"No. It would be far too dangerous to them. I could not."

"Dance with me again." Her words were soft appeal, and her eyes glowed with real desire.

Stunned, yet wanting nothing else, Dhukalos gathered her against him, and whirled his masked mermaid onto the dance floor.


Have a magickal and wicked Halloween!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Sunday, October 28, 2012

Lord (and Lady) of the Jungle

Illustration by Burne Hogarth

Katrianna leaped forward with a roar of surprise. She’d heard and scented nothing, and she should have. Her attacker locked his legs around her torso and dug his fingers into the skin of her neck.

Human, then, in shape if not species. That she could deal with. She dropped and rolled onto her back, a trick she’d learned from her equine clients. It was not a lion move, and ought to throw her attacker off balance. But not crush him, hopefully. He’d paid for a wrestling match, not a fight to the death.

He responded with his own bend in the rules. She’d been told he’d be wearing a knife as part of his costume, hard rubber instead of sharp steel. He used its hilt to clip her on the side of her head. She snapped automatically. His grip loosened. She rolled free and they broke apart. Both shot to their feet and faced each other.

To give him credit, he looked the part he’d chosen. Over six feet, lean and well-muscled. A tousled mane of black hair set off by gray eyes. His leopard-skin loincloth was made of faux fur. Her nose told her that much. It told her nothing else. Of only one thing she was certain: he wasn’t fully human. Nor was this some simple fantasy to him.

They circled across the floor of the fake jungle, two predators at the peak of their power, seeking an opening. All at once he smiled and tossed his knife away. Kat recognized the gesture as a show of contempt. He was taunting her, trying to goad her into an attack, and her with fangs and claws. Was he bloody insane?

If he does the yell, she thought, I probably will kill him.

He called her a name she hadn’t heard since she’d fled Kenya. Kat bristled and her tail lashed. Lucky guess? Or certainty? Did he have a connection with Mustafa?

All right, then. She leaped.

He met her charge with no attempt at evasion. Instead he caught her and went over backwards. Her own momentum and the lack of resistance threw her off stride. She scrabbled for balance on the polished gym floor beneath the imported leaf litter. By the time she recovered herself, he’d wormed onto her back again. He snaked his arms beneath her forelegs and locked his hand behind her neck.

Panic flashed through her. She recognized the move, knew what he was attempting. His greater-than-human or even shifter strength began to force her head toward her chest. Enough pressure and her neck would snap, as the lion’s had in the book.

No choice, then, but to rewrite the story. Kat flung herself at the wall. Her shoulder hit it hard enough to spark a galaxy of stars behind her eyes. His head did likewise. His hold on her faltered. She threw herself again. This time she made sure his body moreso than hers hit the wall. He reeled on her back. Kat borrowed another trick from her horse clients and bucked him off.

He landed hard but was already scrambling upright when she shoved him back down with a paw on his throat. She let her claws come out, just the tips, and snarled a warning into his face. He gasped out the safe word they had agreed upon. “Kreegah.”

She backed off and shifted, signaling the end of the session. He stayed on the floor. Playing it safe, although that smug grin of his made her want to try another charge.

“You cheated,” he accused, still grinning. “There aren’t any walls in the jungle.”

“My clients don’t normally try to kill me.”

“You had plenty of time to shift and surrender.” He climbed to his feet, keeping well out of her reach. “I want a rematch. We should still have some time left on the clock.”

“No.” She indicated the gym’s jungle dressing. “Half your fee went to set this up. I’ll refund the rest. Get dressed and get out and don’t try to come back.”

The man lost his grin. “We have a contract. I didn’t overstep the rules.”

“I don’t care. I’m breaking it.”


Katrianna sucked in a long, steadying breath. “You called me—” She stopped. Even now she couldn’t say it. “Who told you that name? Was it Mustafa?”

His smile returned. “That would be telling.”

“You’re not human. What kind of shifter are you?”

“That would also be telling.” He must have sensed he was nearing her limits, because he held out his hands in apology. “All right. It was a fair enough fight. I’ll take what I can get.”

“For what it’s worth,” Kat said, “your techniques would have worked on a real lion.”

“But not a shifter,” he said, and rubbed his head where it had hit the wall. “You can think outside the box. I have to remember that.”

You, she thought. Not “us”? “You haven’t answered my questions.”

“I’ll tell you what. If it will set your mind at ease, I’ll answer what questions I can if you’ll have coffee with me. My treat. I paid enough for your services.” Kat snarled. “Your company,” he amended. “I don’t know anyone named Mustafa. Does that help my cause?”

“It’s a start.” If she agreed, she’d have a chance to pry the truth out of him, and claw out any lies. “What’s your name?”


She sniffed at his loincloth. “As in John Clayton, I imagine.”

“No, that’s just coincidence. For now, ‘Clay’ will suffice. You’re Mistress Katrianna?”

“To you, for the rest of the hour, yes. Get dressed. I’ll meet you at the desk.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Both his tone and smile were heavy on the irony. “Don’t you want to hear the yell?”

“Only if you want to die.”

“I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

Saturday, October 27, 2012

The Colors Of Fall-Things Are Changing

Jackson pushed back his Stetson, shoved his wayward bangles out of his eyes, and sighed.  Twenty feet behind him, Abebi sat shredding leaves.   How had things gotten to this point?  Jackson turned and watched Abebi toss another leaf to the ground.

“Let me get this right. . .” Jackson drew in a deep breath before going on.   “You don’t want to marry me?”

Abebi blinked back the tears threatening to overwhelm her.  The man knew he had to ask.  That is what Sandy said he needed to do.  Abebi wanted more than the piece of paper.  She wanted commitment.  Commitment from his heart.  With wolves, also from their gut.  She didn’t expect him to be completely faithful.  Well, within the pack faithful.  Remo and the elders counsel kept track of who was off limits.  Even most of Remoor Beach’s humans snuggled and enjoyed a pleasurable afternoon with pack members.  Lupa Prime, how did she explain sharing and keeping things light for now?  

You want a courtship.  Abebi glanced over her shoulder.  Nothing.  No one was there.  Another breeze blew up and around her.

  Leaves swirled and danced in the breeze blowing in off the beach.  In the hills, fall was in full force.  The riotous colors burst forth almost overnight.  Brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges mixed with the remaining green of the tall pines and low grasses dotting the hills.  In a few weeks, the higher elevations would see snow.  The beach would thrive as the warmer waters from the south mixed with their northern cousins.  Whales and dolphins would school as they made their winter migrations.  What would her winter hold?

“No, not right now.”  Abebi licked her lips.  She pulled her sweater tighter around her.  Neither of them knew the other very well.  Her hand slid to her belly.  Almost four months along and the thrum of life pulsed beneath her hand.  These pups needed parents.  Parents who stood together regardless of their union, married or partnered.  Clear communication had to happen.

Abebi cleared her throat and stood.  “I want to talk about us.”  She closed the space between her and Jackson.  As she reached him, she laid her hand on his arm.

Jackson looked down his arm to where Abebi’s hand rested.  She hadn’t touched him in a week.  That slow dance Saturday with her in his arms had felt so good.  So hot and tempting.    And so right.  Yet, he’d held her away from him.  The space between them was barely enough to keep their clothes from brushing as they moved around the dance floor.  He wanted to pull her into his arms and crush her against him.    Remo’s parting advice rang in his mind.  Get to know Abebi.  Let folks see you with her.

“What about us?”  Jackson reminded himself to breath.  It wouldn’t look good if he passed out.  Shit, when had dating become this nerve wracking?

“Yes, please.”  Abebi ducked her head.  Her hand slipped down his arm until her hand found his.  She tried to work her fingers between his. 

 Jackson pointed to the table.  “Let’s sit down.  My head is reeling faster than a fly-fisherman’s lure.”

Abebi’s quick giggle and nod set his heart to pounding.  When had they become like a pair of bumbling teens?  She moved toward the table.

Jackson quickly caught up to Abebi.  He placed his hand in middle of her back and helped her sit.  That was how his Daddy helped his Momma right?  Christ, why couldn’t remember better?  Paid more attention? Jackson tossed his Stetson on the table, raked a hand through his hair, and dropped to one knee.  He grabbed Abebi’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers.  

“I need to know,” he barely managed to get out.  Jackson gulped, rose and sat next to Abebi.

Abebi looked the hand entwined with hers.  It was now or never.  She didn’t know if she had the words.  The ones that wouldn’t scare him off.  The ones that made sense and had him nodding yes.  Not yes in agreement, though her heart pounded every time she thought of him saying let’s go for it.  Rather a yes of understanding that they could build upon and begin a foundation that led to them and what they wanted.  Not how others thought or said it all needed to turn out.  It was their lives after all.

Abebi wrapped her other hand around Jackson’s.  “I don’t have all the words.  At times like this I use my paints and canvas to draw the picture I see.”

“We’ll take it slow and easy.  Give me the words you do have.”  Jackson’s weak smile nibbled at Abebi’s heart.  His southern draw stroked her internal heat higher each time he whispered her name or talked softly to her.  

Abebi nodded.  She inhaled, closed her eyes, and asked her heart what she wanted and needed most.  Two words flashed behind her eyes.  She willed her heart to slow and allow her clarity on speaking what those two words meant.


 Happy Weekend Gang!

Here on the spice homestead we are keeping an eye on Sandy.  No not Abebi's best friend.  The storm that has all of the east coast scarmbling and prepparing.  We're under way too.  I've got chores and errands to run while my muse ponders what the two words are that Abebi is going to spring on Jackson.  Meanwhile, keep safe, warm and dry!  Share a few good books with your spice and loves!  


Friday, October 26, 2012

My What a Big Ruler You Have...

Nick raced across the forest floor, taking the long way home to allow his wolf freedom.  He chased and nipped at the small prey lucky enough to cross his path.  Tonight, there would be no killing.  Nope, he was still running high on chuckin’ pumpkins at the hard-headed sheep he now called family.

The memory of lobbing those beauties over at The Bighorn Diner made him bark and yip.  Sure, the front window at Java Joes was trashed by an explosive gourd, but he’d go over tomorrow and pay to have it replaced.  He’d send the unused fruit missiles back to Bo, Hannibal and Mary with a welcome to the family greeting included and he’d even replace the meat lost from his Pop’s freezer.  He wouldn’t however clean up the street.  Let Mayor Monkey Butt take care of that, he knew just the secret banana fund it could and would come from.   

He knew most of the town considered him an ass, or a possible desk humper, both were probably true to some extent…he was an alpha after all.  It could be argued that all alphas were impossibly demanding and reckless.  To a point, it was true, they were.   They had to be though, to keep Talbot’s Peak and all those within her boarders safe.  For that he wouldn’t apologize.  Better the folks thought him difficult than to be unsafe.

The back door to the gazette stood open and one whiff of the air told him she waited just inside.  Ziva—his life, his love, his mate—lingered in his office, dressed and ready for the Halloween bash at Dante’s Pleasure club.  He hoped she found the costume.

“Glad you didn’t stand me up, again.”

“Once, Ziva,” he said, rising from four legs to two.  “Once a whole lotta years ago—before we were…well.”

“Well?  Before we were what?  A couple, frisky friends, participants on the same hide the salami team?
What are we, Nick?”

Lord love a Lupa she’s in a mood…  “Come on, baby, you know what we are.”

“No Nicholas, I really don’t know.  I’m not even sure we’re friends.  If we were, I’d have warranted an invite to your chuckin’ party, but all I got was another naughty, albeit pretty, costume…”  Nick watched her spin to face away then shoot him a look over her shoulder.  “I even added the panties…,” she sassed, bending forward to give him a glimpse of the unique feature of her undies.

“Zzzzziva,” Nick groaned, lust hitting every fiber of his being.

“I’m also feeling generous enough to give you another chance.”

Nick’s wolf whined with excitement as she pushed the crap on his desk to the floor. He was eager to play the Big Bad to her Little Red.  When the ruler materialized in her tiny and perfect hand he knew he was lost.  Probably, he wouldn’t even have to fess up to his feelings to have some fun…Happy Halloween to him!


Ziva kept control of the grin that hid behind her calm demeanor.  She wanted the words, though Nick was still far away from giving them to her.  She was giving him this chance, but in all reality she would be using the safe and gentle wrist traps she’d had specially made for her man. 

Perhaps a night, chained to his desk with real, not metaphorical, steel would loosen her mate’s lips.  “Climb up on the desk, Nicky, and let’s get this party started.”
 Have a great weekend and a Happy Halloween!


Thursday, October 25, 2012

Dog and Pony Show

The collar, fine. He could live with a bright red poofy collar. It was for the kids. But not a bow around his tail. That’s where Jamie drew the line.

“C’mon, querido,” Lamar pleaded. “Niles is wearing his.”

“He don’t mind a bow tied around his tail. I do.”

“At least put on the hat.”

“I ain’t wearing no little red hat!”

Lamar muttered several Spanish swears. “This isn’t real life. It’s show biz. It’s about flash and over-the-top. You have to dress accordingly.” He shrugged elegantly, all over, as only a snake can. “You are such a tightass. Normally that’s your best feature, but today—”

“You already got me doing backflips on a horse. I ain’t wearing a stupid-looking hat on top’a that.”

“I’m wearing a hat.”

“You’re the ringmaster. You’re supposed to be wearing a hat. What if it slips while I’m flipping around? Then what?”

“Then the kids laugh and have a good time. Isn’t that the point?”

Niles stamped his hoof. The slim dapple-gray Arabian stallion had gone whole-hog with the costuming: a padded blanket in a moon-and-stars pattern for Jamie to balance on; a bridle stuck with rhinestones; glitter on his hooves. And the big crimson bow tied around the base of his inky tail. And a big red plastic hat. He and Lamar had been up half the night coming up with that getup. Jamie figured they’d spent more time figuring out what to wear than he and Niles had in rehearsing their routine.

Niles poked his nose toward the flap of their dressing tent to indicate the ring in the field beyond, as well as, presumably, the audience gathered in the stands. It wasn’t just families out there. One section up front was reserved for a group of shifter younguns who’d lost their parents to hunters or been rescued from abuse or “research” by unscrupulous humans. Wayne and Dante had thrown this charity shindig together primarily with those cubs in mind.

The horse-shifter’s snort held a wealth of significance. There were children out there—children, mind—who’d lost everything. And Jamie didn’t want to wear a hat?

Dang that nag. Even without his human voice he got his point across.

“Okay,” Jamie relented. “I’ll wear the hat. But not the bow."

Excellente.” Lamar clapped his hands smartly. “Let’s do this, amigos.”

Jamie climbed onto Niles’s back and shifted to his red wolf form. Lamar secured the little plastic hat to Jamie’s head, between his ears. Niles whinnied approval.

Lamar smacked a quick kiss on Jamie’s muzzle. “Knock ‘em dead, lover.”

Lamar strode into the ring in his black tie and tails, and swept his tall hat in a low bow to the audience. Jamie had to admit he looked hot. He’d probably want to wear it to bed later. Well, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lamar boomed through his mic, “Master Dante’s Shapeshifter Spectacular is proud to present the incredible acrobatics of Niles the Wonder Horse and the Amazing Jamie!”

Jamie steadied himself on the padding, adjusting his balance as Niles trotted into the ring. The hat stayed secure on his head. The things we do for kids, Jamie thought. And, let’s face it, for love.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Party Time!

Thigh-high fishnet stockings in a creepy spider web pattern? Check.
Fuck-me shoes with 4" stiletto heals? Check.
Purple lipstick, nail polish and eye shadow? Check, check and check.
Sexy French Maid costume?

... Nope.

She'd bought every single accessory needed to make a run-of-the-mill French Maid costume into a spook-a-licious Halloween costume just for the First Annual Haunted Ball at the Stardust Club. Everything except for the costume, that is.

She opened her closet and stared hard at it's drab contents as if a suitably sexy costume might just spring out from the hangers full of sensible but boring office clothes. Heck, she didn't even own any sexy undies! Why had she thought she could pull off "hot Halloween temptress" tonight when she'd never managed to do so at any other time in her life?

She eyed her collection of pretty but sensible white cotton bikini panties and equally pretty but sensible stretch lace bras. Then an idea came into her head. She was no vixen, but she could pull off a fantasy girl-next-door!

Ten minutes later, she eyed herself in the mirror:

Thigh-high spider web stockings? Check.
Fuck-me stiletto heals in a shocking shade of purple? Check.
Purple lips, eyes and finger tips? Check, check and check.
Pretty white lace panties and bra? Check.
Hair done in cutesy Pippy Longstocking braids? Check.

And that was it. It may not seem like much of a costume, but it was very Halloween-looking. She slipped on her plain black half mask, plain black trench coat (which would be ditched at the door of the club), slipped her invitation (which she'd saved for months to buy) into her pocket, and then picked up the over-sized envelope, stolen from a cheesy birthday card and hastily marked with black and purple Sharpies. It now read "naughty secret."

After all, the girl next door with a huge naughty secret was a fantasy most men chased at some point, right?

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Unexpected Pet

Dragon Pumpkin Carving 

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

A BIG WOLF HOWL of thanks to everyone who stopped by and participated in The Bewitching blog hop.

This Flash Scene continues Sio and Dallas Red Cloud's story. Hope you enjoy.

The Unexpected Pet

"Punkin' Chunkin'," Dallas explained to Sio, then slipped his arm around her waist.

His naive, 'from another world' woman stared, enraptured as one of the catapults launched another large pumpkin. Cheers and howls erupted as the plump giant sailed through the crisp chilly air. Missing the target, it bounced on the hard ground, bursting in great messy chunks.

"Oh, splat!" she yelled under her breath. Heedless of his arm, Sio hopped up and down with the enthusiasm of a child -- certainly a match for the Talbot's Peak's youngsters surrounding them.

After their first long lunch together, Dallas had lured 'the loveliest woman he'd ever seen, and smelled' into an official date. But, only by promising to be her guide during the various Halloween-Samhain events around town.

He'd discovered during their conversation that Sio -- while highly knowledgeable about American Earth culture -- was a total newbie when it came to trick-or-treat.

She'd tilted her head, a puzzled frown on her radiantly beautiful face when he talked about costume parties and other spooky celebrations. With her chin planted on palm, a smile on her rosepink lips, she'd eagerly listened to the stories he told about the wacky weirdness that gripped adults like a slavering werewolf, which included humans, shapeshifters, and the supernatural crowd.

After much reflection about their punkin' chunkin' date, Dallas decided to bring Sio to the kiddie-land version of the catapult war zone.  War zone, because he was damn certain pumpkins would be flying fast and furious, given the recent the family feud between the McMahon werewolf boys and the Ewing bighorn siblings.

That is, if he knew Nick McMahon at all. And he did, having surveilled the editor of the G&B Gazette since arriving.

"Smack! Crash!" His Sio Rio bounced beside him.

Even through the padding of their coats and clothing, Dallas felt the shapely curve of her hip and thigh. Whoa there, he silently reminded himself and his rising cock.

He'd have to move real slow and easy with her, if he meant to win her affection, her heart. Besides, Sio possessed the zapping power to knock him off his feet. Should she want to.

"What is this odd obsession with hurling fruit?" She leaned against his side, her small frame a pleasure Dallas couldn't find words for.

'Course, his blood was busy flowing elsewhere other than his brain. "Obsession?"

"First the tomato hurling art at Rattigan. Then those boys used my apples as play weapons. Now, it's flying bombastic pumpkins."

"Bombastic. Yep, they sure are." Dallas searched his uncooperative faculties for a quick answer. "Something primitive about it. And good for the soul. Better than smashing heads, don't you think?"

"Violence avoidance. Yes, that makes sense. And it's fun, too."

Her little hand found his, and she held on sweetly. Dallas watched her follow the flight of several pumpkins flung toward the large cardboard castle. Since not many had struck, the makeshift construction still stood proudly, banners waving.

"What about the seeds?" she asked long moments later. "Who is going to plant them?"

The concern in her voice had Dallas inspecting Sio's flushed face to make certain she still felt well. Her scent told him she was just fine, and enjoying herself.

Before answering, Dallas took a moment, indulging in her fragrance. Lifted by the brisk breezes, her feminine perfume filled his lungs, and invigorated his cock. Once again.

"Tell you what, Sio Rio," Dallas spoke as inspiration came to his rescue, "if no one claims those seeds we'll just have a picking-up party, and save them for next Spring."

"Oh, can we? I could have my own pumpkin patch. Like I saw in all those pictures on the internet."

Dallas was about to reply when he heard her softly squeal, "Oh no."

Rigid now, Sio stared skyward. Following her gaze, Dallas had to blink several times. But damn he saw what he saw.

Not that he hadn't ever seen a dragon before. He and his super soldier team had encountered them on their giant slaying missions. So far, there'd never been a reason to tangle with one.

Dallas telescoped his gaze automatically switching to his eagle eyesight. The small dragon's scales mirrored the color of the sky as he winged swiftly, diving toward the launched pumpkin.

"Hey! Daddy, what happened to our pumpkin?" the young girl demanded.

"He ate it," Sio whispered.

"He did eat it," Dallas echoed, marveling at the dragon's agile maneuvers, and the quick final snap of his jaws.

"Don't worry, honey lamb," the sheep shifter father assured. "Here's another one. Let's get this baby in the air."

"No! Gnothos, stop," Sio loudly whispered. "Stop."

Dallas watched as the dragon circled the large park, clearly intent on devouring the next pumpkin. "Gnothos?"

"My pet dragon. He must have followed me here... somehow. He wasn't supposed to. My sister promised to watch him," his Sio explained in a rush of words.

Gnothis rode the afternoon thermal, his long neck snaking as he scanned both sky and ground. "He's not dangerous to anyone, is he?"

"Not unless I'm threatened. No. But, he adores aerial sports... Gnothos is what you call a vegetarian. I have to make him quit before..." Sio squeezed his hand hard. "Oh, no!"

"What the --" the older boy managed to control his tongue. "Mine's gone too. I swear the castle was in my sights, and about to go down."

"It's probably stuck in a tree, moron. You couldn't hit the side of a barn. Remember the baseball game you lost us?" another boy taunted.

"Mickey, I warned you about your manners. One more word and we're going home."

As Sio turned to face him, Dallas removed his gaze from the cavorting dragon. "How do I help, beautiful?"

"I'm not certain how to direct Gnothos to my house, once I make contact..."

"Will he wait in the bed of my truck? He can munch on the pumpkins beneath the tarp."

With a smile that lit him up, Sio spun around. Hell, Dallas figured he'd been blasted by a blowtorch, the way her eyes became bright as the sun.

Sio stilled inside his arm, and Dallas sensed her vibrational change as she telepathically spoke with her pet. Dallas sure as all get out, hoped the dragon wouldn't prove to be an obstacle. No matter hell or high water, he intended to make Sio his own.

"What is that, up in the sky?" an older girl shouted.

Wondering what his next move should be, Dallas watched her point to the thermal, where Gnothos had been.

"I don't see anything," her sister mocked. "You need eyeglasses like the teacher said."

"It's not there anymore. And I did SEE something. And I am not wearing glasses. They'll only get lost or stepped on when I shift. Dummy."

Glad Sio whirled to face him again, Dallas witnessed the triumph in her gaze. "Gnothos is waiting for us," she whispered. "I better get him out of Talbot's Peak."

"Something wrong?" Dallas questioned as Sio hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder.

"I don't want to, to leave all these seeds." Her palms lightly landed on is chest, thrilling him down to the pointed tips of his boots. "They need to be planted."

"We can do some seed saving later," Dallas drawled. "How about collecting them beneath the moonlight, once we put your pet to bed."

She nodded, and her expression became a mixture of seriousness and happiness. "See, Dallas, you're already better than the men on my world. None of them would deign to help me... seed save, is it?"

"That's right. We're seed savers."

Dallas roped her shoulders with his arm, pulling Sio close as they walked toward his truck. He wouldn't tell her he celebrated inside like a dang drunk fool because she'd been forced to leave her homeworld, after denying marriage one too many times -- and celebrating because she preferred him.

Not yet, anyway.


Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side…


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, October 22, 2012

Bad Kitty

My first two-parter! Today’s flash ran longer than expected, and went in another direction than originally planned, so I’m splitting it. That’ll save me the trouble of writing something for next week. The one after this will be another two-parter, as we finally deal with Talbot’s Peak’s mayoral election. At this rate I should be scheduled well into November.

# # #

Mistress Katrianna slapped her leather riding crop against her thigh. “Don’t make me resort to this,” she warned.

Niles shook his mane and whinnied, his huge eyes on the crop. He was tricked out for the show ring, in English saddle, bridle and reins and a bit in his mouth. It didn’t tally with Katrianna’s definition of bondage and discipline, but this was Niles’s fetish. He was obsessed with dressage.

Katrianna tugged on the lead. The slender dapple obediently went through his paces in a circle around the gym-sized dungeon: walk, trot, canter, high-step, back to walk. Even Kat, who figured by now she’d seen everything, found Niles’s kink bizarre. She was used to training subs; training horses wasn’t something she’d signed on for. As long as he ponied up the cash, though, she wasn’t about to complain.

A flip of the lead brought Niles prancing to a halt. “Good boy,” Kat cooed, and dug into her jodhpurs for Niles’s reward. He lipped the sugar cubes from her open palm while Kat patted his neck. When the sugar was gone, he shifted. Without a horse’s girth to hold it, the saddle slipped down over his butt. Niles worked the bit out of his human mouth. “Next Thursday?” he asked hopefully.

“If the gym’s available. Check with the desk.”

Niles went into the locker room to dress and fetch her pay. Katrianna tucked her crop in her belt with a grateful look around the gym, and a fleeting, grateful thought for Dante. Her dungeon at home could only accommodate the smaller species. If, say, a hippo or giraffe client decided to shift in the middle of a session, things got dicey. When Dante offered her this job and this space at his Interspecies Pleasure Club, Kat had jumped at the chance. Her client list had tripled in the last month alone. Who knew so many shapeshifters harbored so many fantasies?

She heard a quiet step behind her. Assuming it was Niles with her fee, she was surprised to see Dante himself join her in the gym. Before she could speak he handed her a small stack of large bills. “From Niles. I ran into him in the locker room. Thank you for working with him. He’s so much happier these days.”

“Different strokes,” Katrianna said, pocketing the cash. “You took your percentage already?”

“Not in cash this time. A client has a fantasy, and only you can handle it.”

Aha. She should have known Dante hadn’t suggested this arrangement out of altruism. Everything came with a catch. “Dangerous, is it?”

“Not necessarily. Simply specialized. The client was very specific. You’re the only qualified domme for this, on several levels.”

Kat listened with growing amusement while Dante described what his client wanted. “Are you kidding me?" she said at the end. "He honestly wants to—?”

“He honestly does, and he’s willing to pay handsomely for the privilege. I know your contract specifically states no intimate contact with clients, but in this case—”

“This doesn’t fall under intimate,” she finished for him. “It falls under stupid, on his part. But if that’s what he wants … what’s he offering?”

Dante named the fee. Kat had to bite down hard on a gasp. For that much, she could return to Kenya in style. She could win her freedom at last. “You’ve got a deal,” she said. “For that much, he can bring friends. I promise I’ll go easy on him.”

“He doesn’t want easy. He wants the full experience. Everything you’ve got.”

“Then he’s crazy. Or … ” She narrowed her eyes. “What species is he? Human?”

Dante shrugged. “He wouldn’t say.”

Trap, her paranoia screamed at her. Somehow Mustafa had tracked her down. This was a test to determine her identity, make her reveal herself. Her damaged sense of trust asserted itself. Dante would never betray her or any of his employees. And the money was just too good to pass up.

“All right,” she decided. “It’s his safety at stake, not mine. Dress up the place and send him in.”

# # #

Kat prowled the perimeter of the “jungle” Dante had made of the gym. Given what he had to work with, she had to admit he’d done a pretty good job. Rumor had it he was looking to upgrade with technology that would turn his “playrooms” into Star Trekian holodecks for a more realistic experience. Dante knew a wide range of—the polite term was “interesting” people, some of whom were rumored to be extraterrestrial. Gossip hinted the unassuming club owner had access to tech and resources beyond his father’s or Shere Khan’s. Certainly beyond Mustafa’s, as he had kept her safe and secret for this long.

For now, however, he had to make do with artificial trees and plants interspersed with the real, and plastic vines and painted ropes and a sound-effects tape for the jungle noises. The scents were real enough, cloying and powerful, as was the dampness beneath her paws. The ceiling was shrouded in shadow, like a canopy of trees in deepening twilight.

Someone had paid Dante a ton of money to set this up for him. Kat assumed he must be human. What other species would pay so much for the opportunity, of one could call it that, to wrestle a lion bare-handed?

Someone leaped onto her back from above.

Friday, October 19, 2012

ShapeShifter Seductions ~ The Bewitching Blog Hop

Halloween Wars

“Reinforced steel pipes, heavy duty rubber tubing, a gross of nuts, bolts, S-hooks and a short Red Riding Hood costume with crotchless panties.”  Glenn set down the scanner and looked up at an impatient Nick and his blushing brother Mooney.  “Ah Nick, does Ziva know about all of this stuff?”

“Oh Lupa no!  And she better not hear anything either…”  Nick raised an eyebrow his brother’s way before looking back at him and continuing.  “She’d never let this happen, Glenn, so better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

“Nick, my man, do you remember the mantra we went over when you first started buying here…Safe, Sane and Consensual?  Hell, damn near anything is safe for shapeshifters and sane, well in this town who could really pinpoint sane vs. insane, but most importantly is the consensual.  Ziva has to be fully on board with, ah…”  Glenn looked again at the assortment of tools and could picture half a dozen uses.  None of which he figured Ziva would go for.  “…whatever you have planned.”

Glenn watched the light bulb go on as Nick surveyed the items he’d picked. 

“Ha, no…no, this isn’t for Z, well, the Shorty dress and crotchless panties are, but the rest is for something special.”

“Ooh, I’m telling Ziva…not special, you are so bust...Ow!”  Mooney rubbed the ear Nick cuffed and started to pout.

“I meant something non-sexually special.  Papa wolves don’t tattle, Moon, and they especially don’t pout.”  

Nick threw money on the counter to pay for his treasures and looked towards his brother.  “Now grab some stuff and let’s get it over to the grill.”

“How do we know they’ll even be there?”

“Moon, its Halloween and they just harvested all that unsatisfying and repulsive roughage.  They’ll be serving it to the Herbies…and so will we!”   


“It’s bad enough Mom felt she had to take off with that meat-eating lupine, but did she have to do it around the harvest?”

“Stop bitching, Bo and start making the pumpkin flapjacks.”Hannibal shoved him; hand over face, back into the kitchen.  “The crowds are getting restless.”

“Suck it, Peewee Hornman.”  Bo knew insulting his brother’s smaller horns was a bad idea, but he didn’t care.  This whole hitching and bolting action of his mother’s really put a crimp in their lives.  Now they were all doing double duty at their jobs and the restaurant.  He was cooking, which he hated.  Mary served, which really didn’t work well and Hannibal was the general ‘pain-in-the-ass’ manager.  Odds were damn good the Bighorn Diner would be run into the ground before she got back.


Bo ran from the fuming Bighorn sheep now occupying his brother’s space next to the griddle.  Hannibal never could maintain his composure or shape when challenged.  Ten minutes later, the kitchen was wrecked, batter flung everywhere and Bo still couldn’t feel his hands or arms after using the cast iron frying pan on Hannibal’s head.

“Like I was trying to tell you, lug nut, we’re out of pumpkins.”

“Not possible, Bo,” Hannibal grumbled, holding his head with both hands. “We harvested over an acre of those damn things and they were pretty tightly packed.”

“Well they’ve sprouted legs and run away, because they are not here…”


General chaos erupted in the seating area out front.  Women screamed, children cried and the men swore. 

“Roasted buck nuts, what was that!”

Bo didn’t have time to answer his brother as he was already trying to decipher Mary’s frantic signing.  “Slow down, sis,” he both spoke and signed.  “Lick moon pump across…honestly, Mar, slow…”

“Fricken sex-fiend and his idiot monkey lovin’ brother are chuckin’ pumpkins at us from across the street!”  Hannibal bleated, his control appearing to be at an all time low.

“Ah, Nick and Mooney are tossing pump…wait, pumpkins?”  Bo ran to the window just in time to see another orange projectile hit the sidewalk in front of the flapjackery.  “Hell, those are our pumpkins!  How’d they get our stash?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”  Hannibal blew through the dining room, tossing tables and chairs out of his way.  

“Get your ass over here and help us.”

Mary was on her knees pulling blood red hunks of flesh from the bottom of the cooler and putting them in a massive mixing bowl while Hannibal pulled funny looking weapons from the closet.  “Okay, now.  Yuk.”  He pointed at Mary’s heart attack in a bowl.  “And, what the blazes are you doing your ranger guns in the closet?  Those kill, man.”

“When’d you turn into such a little girl, Bo?”  Hannibal pushed past him and headed back to the window and door with Mary following close behind, dripping blood across the floor.  “This here is a bleacher reacher and the beaut currently being loaded by our tough as nails sister is the T-shirt Gatling gun.  These babies will beat that stupid looking slingshot the desk humper has.”

“Whoya…eat it, Herbies!”  Taunts and chuckles came at them from across the street as did more fruit.

“What the hell is wrong with those two?”  Not like he needed to ask.  After all, this was the McMahon brothers, a prankster pair at home with gross destruction of property.

Another pumpkin found its way to the sidewalk, splattering in front of the open door and flying in all directions.  Some landed on Bo’s shoes; a glop ended up in Mary’s hair and a large section veered off and flew through Java Joe’s plate glass next door.

“Damn it, Nick, not there.  Marissa’s gonna kill me or worse douse me with mange again…gah!”

“Man up, Moon.”

Bo swallowed back a yelp of hysterical laughter and put his hand out.  “Someone give me a gun.”

“’Bout time, brother.”  Hannibal jumped up and slapped him on the back.  “Here, you take the cannon while I get me a little Gat action.”

Gourds of all sizes pummeled their side of the street even as raw meat flew back.  The mess was atrocious, but the combatants were beyond caring.  There could be only one winner in this family war and Bo would be damned if it was those stinky wolves.


“Fire in the hole!”

“That’s it, Moonster, let it fly…wooo!”

Mooney had to admit, manning up or regressing down, sure felt good.  Marissa was going to have his balls for defacing Java Joe’s, but who knew, maybe he could sweet talk his way out of the mange.  Right now though he was going to enjoy chuckin’ pumpkins.

“Told ya you’d love this.”  Nick was grinning ear to ear, but why not.  This was burned into his alpha nature.  Besides, he had the money and pull to get him out of anything.

“Yep, you did.  Load me up.”

“What in the name of the great Lupa is going on here!”  “My restaurant!”

“Scat…oh scat,” Mooney whined, letting go of the rubber tubing.  He watched the last pumpkin hurl its way into the street only to explode all over his new stepmother.  “Pops is gonna rip our guts out with his teeth.”    

“Nope, only yours.”

Mooney heard the feminine scream, then panic set in as he watched his dad shift to wolf.  “Why only mine, wood whisperer?”

“’Cause I run faster!”

Nick changed and bolted before he even had a chance to think of becoming wolf.  The last thing he saw with his human eyes was a Bighorn sheep mama chasing three hard-headed kids into the destroyed eatery behind them and a pissed off dad snapping big assed teeth towards his tail.  Time to tuck and run.


Have a Pumpkin Chuckin' Happy Halloween!




The battleground: the athletic field out behind Talbot’s Peak Senior High School. The combatants: the Lyon brothers, at war with the close-knit Tanton family. At stake: the attentions of the beauteous Amelia Swan, coveted by Dan Lyon and Steve Tanton alike. More important than that, however, are the bragging rights. This contest will determine once and for all just who’s king of the high school jungle.

The weapon of choice: pumpkins.

The warriors assemble on the field of battle: Dan and his three brothers, Larry, Doug and Norm. Norm’s the one in the glasses. He’s only a frosh, but he’s the brains of the group. Steve—“Tantor” to friends and foes alike—ambles up in his low-riders with his habitual sneer in place. The mob milling behind him consists of various cousins and whatnot. Dan has never bothered to learn their names. Tantor’s the head of the herd, the only one who matters here.

In the bleachers sits lovely Amelia, excitedly twisting her scarf.

Dan and Tantor face off, broad nose to long nose. “You know the rules?” Dan kicks off the challenge. “Are they acceptable?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tantor snorts, affecting boredom. “Farthest pitch wins. Let’s get on with it, kittycat.”

Dan bristles and growls. Tantor’s bigger and broader than he is, has been since their rivalry started in grade school, but he can’t let that throw him. Honor is at stake here, the pride of his family name. If there’s one thing the Lyons understand, it’s pride.

“Where’s your gear?” Norm asks.

Tantor smirks, as if at a private joke. “In the trunk.”

Dan’s glare doesn’t budge an inch. He tells his brothers, “Get the catapult.”

The Lyons race for Dad’s pickup. Tantor gestures, and his hangers-on run to fetch the pumpkins. The Lyons have brought their own pumpkins, of course, swiped from neighboring farms. Norm did the measuring and picked the ones most likely to fly well. Dan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tastes victory.

Amelia watches, prepared, perhaps even eager, to become the property of the victor.

Dan’s brothers bring out the catapult, and it is indeed a thing of beauty. Norm drew up the schematics after much research on the Internet. It’s only a scale model, barely six feet, but their practice chucks hurled pumpkins half the length of a football field. The neighbor's cat escaped a launching only because Norm is soft-hearted.

The Tantons return with their ammo. Dan wrinkles his nose. These pumpkins are big, but already going to rot. The side of some have caved in already. They’ll make a pretty splat when they hit, but will they even fly? And what are they going to fly on? Dan still doesn’t any Tanton machinery.

“You go first,” Tantor invites. “Then we’ll show you how it’s done.”

The Lyons assemble their launcher in record time. Dan himself loads the first pumpkin. Norm pokes around every inch of the catapult, making last minute adjustments. “Let ‘er rip!” Dan roars.

The pumpkin’s flight is sheer perfection. It soars nearly the entire length of the football field, almost through the goalposts, which was the Lyons’ target. It hits the ground and ruptures with a whump audible clear across the field. Pumpkin guts go flying. Amelia leans forward to observe the gourd’s demise, then flashes Dan a thumbs-up.

“Yes!” Dan cries with a fist-pump. “And that’s the way the big cats do it, you—”

A section of rotted, squishy pumpkin hits him square in the chest. Through squinted eyes wet with pumpkin juice he sees now the extent of Tantor’s treachery. They never meant to hold an honest contest. It was all a ruse. While the Lyons kept to the rules—human form only—the elephants have shifted.

Tantor and his clan hurl their putrid ammo at the unprepared lion-boys. They can’t throw a pumpkin as far as a catapult, but with their victims right in front of them that isn’t a problem. They’re a lot more mobile than a catapult too, and fling their gourds with the force of a cannon.

Like the man said, it’s in the trunk.

“It’s a trap!” Dan yells, even as Larry goes down with a face full of pumpkin guts. “Run!” He dashes after Norm, who’s already sprinting for the bleachers. The elephants won’t be able to follow them under the seats without shifting. Once they’re human, they’ll be done for. You want to play it this way? Dan mentally snarls. I’ll teach you to mess with the king of the jungle.

It’s a decent plan and he’s got the heart for it, but Tantor has other plans. They’re fast, for such big beasts. They cut the lions off from safety. Even shifting to animal form won’t save Dan and his brothers now. The Tantons curl their trunks around their pumpkin bombs and move in for the kill.

It’s Tantor himself who screams first, when something hard and painful dents his big wrinkled behind. He whirls with trunk and pumpkin raised, and takes a shot in the eye. His screech rattles the bleachers. Amelia covers her ears.

It’s Norm, of course. When you’re the runt of the litter you have to be smarter and tougher in order to keep up with the pride. Norm always has a Plan B. He plants himself before Tantor and takes careful aim with his modified paintball gun. He’s got a shoulder bag loaded with the little mini-Jacks the farmers market hands out to the little kids. Dan had wondered why he brought those along. Now he realizes just how rock-solid the tiny pumps are, when blasted at a target at close range. Dan’s been on the wrong end of paintballs often enough to know how they can hurt.

Norm shoots, he scores. He aims for the eyes and the knees. Once he’s got their attention he starts shooting at their underbellies. Dan and the elephants realize simultaneously what Norm’s aiming for now. Tantor trumpets a shrill retreat, and the whole herd pounds for their truck, amid rock-hard, flying Jacks.

The Lyon boys are still playfully cuffing Norm and slapping his back when Amelia runs up. She brushes right past Dan and Larry and Doug and goes right for the gun. “This is ingenious!” she exclaims. “What is it? Did you make it?”

“In shop class.” Norm puffs out his chest. “Say hello to the Pump-Zooka 2000. The test firing smashed our bird house from thirty feet off. Normally I wouldn’t use it on a living creature, but circumstances—”

He’s still talking while he and Amelia amble back toward the school. Dan can only stare after them, slack-jawed, as the girl of his lustings walks away with his runty little nerd of a brother. It occurs to him all he had to do was bring her a kill and she might have looked his way. Who knew swans were so bloodthirsty?

# # #

The winner? That would be Digger the wolf and his human girlfriend, Laurie. They were strolling past the school when the battle went down. After the fight they came out to harvest the seeds. “I’m going to see if I can grow one of these babies,” Digger says. “Make some pumpkin pie. Laurie’s got a recipe. I love pumpkin pie. Don’t tell the pack I said that, though, okay?”

Posted by Pat C.


 A Witchy Menagish Delight

Melissa ducked as another pumpkin flew by her.  A second and a third one barely missed her.   A heavy thud sounded as pumpkin guts spattered her goggles.  Air swirled around her as her broom took a nosedive toward Edwards Pond.  The sky around Talbot’s Peak was alive and full tonight.  Sharing airspace with flying debris was not on her flight agenda.

She tried pulling up and leaning back hoping to regain her altitude.  Thank the Moon Goddess, she wasn’t sitting sidesaddle as many of her broom-riding group insisted was proper etiquette.  Luck wasn’t with her on reclaiming her prior course and missing all the projectiles littering the sky.  

One action might bring things under control.  The one spell she knew might work.  Melissa wiped her face, goggles included, against her shoulder and spoke.  “Caldrons, stars and sky help this witch make a correction from this terrible flight.  Show me the way to avoid the pond and land safely.”

Two bright beams of light crossed before her.  Another arced across the night.  Two huge pumpkins crossed before and disappeared back into the dark.  As the second spot light appeared, Melissa aimed for it.  The ground beneath her appeared.  Two men stood underneath a tree close to where she aimed to crash.  As she whispered more magical words and prayed, her descent slowed.  One of the men looked up.  His eyes seemed to lock with hers.   Ridiculous as it felt, Melissa focused on him.  His goatee beard and dark hair attracted her.  His companion glanced her direction and smiled.  His neatly trimmed hair and mustache added an air of mystery to him.

Rhys rubbed his ear as a clap of thunder sounded.  Two more pumpkins flew off the catapult near the school.  Three others launched near town.  Twice Jon yelled duck before they got the spotlights working. At least they could avoid any incoming misfired shots and keep the pond from bombardment they hoped.  Their crab apple grove was the center of the upcoming Thanksgiving maze contest.  If too many of the trees were damaged, the maze would be less intricate and daring.  Who in their right mind had deemed Halloween as if it flew, then chunk it night? 

Jon yelled and pointed again.  This time to an object heading straight toward them it appeared.  Rhys squinted.  What had Jon called it?  A UFO?  Unidentified Flying Object?  Gods and Goddesses, how could they identify a bloody thing in the sky when anything and everything was flying and airborne?  Still there was a unique shape to the item.  “Oh hell Jon, run for cover.  It’s coming straight at us.”

Jon pulled the lever working the skylight backwards.  He whistled and grinned.  “Rhys, we got a witch coming in at ---oh man straight for the pond.  Grab the boat.  She’s covered with pumpkin too.”

Rhys uncovered his ears and headed straight for the small boat he and Jon kept near the pond.  The small fishing boat would hold the two of them.  He hoped the poor woman ditched the broom before she hit the water.  Separating witches and their brooms wasn’t a common thing or getting them to do it easily either.

As they tracked the witchy female, Rhys calculated how long until impact.  It would be moments.  He pushed the boat out into the water.  Keeping an eye on where he stepped, Rhys got in and padded toward the center of the pond.    Rhys turned the boat around as he reached his destination.  He shielded his eyes and blinked.  Parts of the spotlight beam hazily illuminated her.  Not a bad figure. Her flight suite hugged tightly to her and her long red hair, though spattered with pumpkin, reminded Rhys of fire.  Knee-high boots with several buckles covered her lower legs.  “Nice,” Rhys chuckled as two splashes sounded.

Melissa quickly blessed her broom as she let go.  She tossed her goggles and tucked into the best swan dive form she knew.  The broom hit first.  A small splash reached her ears as Melissa dove headfirst into the pond.  Spitting and sputtering, she broke the surface.  She pushed her hair off her face and blinked.  

“Want some help?”  A male voice sounded near her.  Melissa turned around struggling to keep afloat.  Wet leather didn’t stay buoyant long.  She swam toward the boat that came into focus.  

“How kind of you.”  Melissa reached for the outstretched hand in front of her.  As her hand touched his, images and heat seared their way up her arm.  Two nude men kneeling before her as she lay near a roaring fire in a fireplace flashed and faded deep within her psychic third eye.  

Minutes passed as Rhys struggled to get the witch into the boat.  “One more pull and we’re good.”  He pulled hard and caught his fishy smelling witch.  As he rowed for shore, he wondered if she had felt the heat and desire as much as he had.  

Jon met them at the edge of the pond.  He grinned as he helped the witch alight.  “A fine catch you got there friend.”  Rhys laughed.  Jon needed to watch his ironical sense of humor.  No telling what the witch might turn him into if he pissed her off enough.  

“Melissa meet Jon.  Jon, Melissa.” Rhys pulled the boat out of the water as two loud splashes sounded followed by several thuds.  

“Shit, they are chunking anything they can find tonight.  The Peak has gone bonkers.”  Jon shook his head and grabbed Melissa’s hand. “Come on with us and let’s get somewhere safe.”

Melissa didn’t hesitate.  If safe included the thoughts she was picking up off these two, the night was young and ripe for sexual play of a ménage kind.

Posted by Solara Gordon

Pumpkin Combat Zone ~ Kimylla and Night Runner

"It's a pumpkin combat zone," Kimylla muttered to herself, as she watched four launched pumpkins crisscross above her.

The giant beauties exploded on several buildings nearby, their chunky remains splatting on the streets of Talbot's Peak. Delighted screeches from kids and carefree adults knifed through her ears. Kimylla flinched, mentally lessening her extra sensitive hearing.

Obviously, they took their punkin' chunkin' really serious here. On her way into and through town, Kimylla had observed several catapults, the designs ranging from crude to complex.

Minutes later, she dashed for the recessed entrance of a shop. Globs of pumpkin guts rained down mere inches away from her knee-high suede boots.

Resuming her steps, Kimylla avoided the haphazard pieces and piles. She'd been warned about the 'wild, wild west' shapeshifter enclave, but business was business And she had lives to save.

She'd tracked him here. Night Runner.

The black super wolf likely visited another one of his off-world kind. White Fang Kent masqueraded as an investigative reporter for the G&B Gazette. So she'd discovered after an exhaustive search of the para-net.

In a desperate effort to find Night Runner fast, Kimylla had spoken with her numerous shadow-world contacts. Afterward she'd felt like a vampire sucking on the bloodless, the intel had been so spare.

Pay dirt, finally. Eureka!

She smelled Night Runner, even though the fragrance of ripe pumpkin saturated the cool crisp air. Having a particular fondness for pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread...any pumpkin goodness...Kimylla found it to be somewhat of a distraction. Especially, since hunger gnawed at her.

She'd neglected to eat much of anything for the past couple of days. Time ticked away like a time bomb. The eight human children, recently kidnapped at Yellowstone Park, were about to become an All Hallow Eve's feast.

Given the beast monsters she faced, Kimylla needed super-powered backup to  rescue them. "Give me ten more seconds," she prayed in a whisper.

Dodging hunks of pumpkin, and their slimy innards, Kimylla raced across the street. Seconds later, she burst through the vintage-twenties door into O’Malley’s Gin Joint.


"I've got company coming." Night Runner quaffed the barley malt ale that went down real smooth and easy.

"Expected or unexpected?" White Fang raised his brow above his Clark Kent glasses, then tipped up his tankard.

"Unexpected but more than welcome." Night Runner didn't hide his lust-inspired grin.

White Fang's blue eyes, so similar to his own, pierced him with man-to-man knowing. "By her scent and frequency I would say your welcome guest is a granddaughter of Aoife, shadow warrior goddess of the Celts."

"Part of her heritage, you're right on target, old man." Night Runner carelessly saluted the elder wolf-man with his tankard. "Kimylla is a red-haired Sunfire goddess."

"No wonder your inner tail is wagging like a cub about to taste raw meat for the first time." White Fang's drily spoken words hit their mark.

Night Runner downed a large swallow of his ale as he mentally commanded his tail and his iron-hard cock to cease and desist...for now. "Time to strike while the iron his hot," he mocked himself.

With a telltale raise of his brows, White Fang stood. "Pasha, my cat goddess awaits." His farewell grin was mostly an amused smirk.

"Right, old man, I'll pay the tab," Night Runner called after him.


Arms with a god's strength wrapped around Kimylla the instant she burst inside. Instinctively she resisted, but halted, realizing it was Night Runner. With not an ounce of give in his arms, he embraced her tight against his tall, fiercely hard frame.

Oh holy sun, when had any man felt this sinfully divine?

"May I assume you're glad to see me?" Her breathy words poured from between her lips, despite her somewhat compressed chest.

"May I assume you need my help?" he growled with way too much intimacy.

Kimylla ignored the way his hot breath caressed her ear, the way it made her entire body all juicy-sexy.

"Is there somewhere private where we can talk?"

Oh holy crap, why had she said 'private'? And, why hadn't she known Night Runner found her desirable?

Although, the super wolf could shield his thoughts and feelings, even from her. Seeking his help, had she walked into his seduction trap? Well, actually, run into his trapping arms.

"Trust me, beautiful Kimylla?" he velvety rumbled.

"Should I?" At least, her defiant nature finally asserted itself.

Night Runner laughed, low rolling thunder that vibrated every inch of her. Kimylla clenched her eyelids tight while the rest of her became his molten captive.

"Trustworthy is my middle name, as they say here, my sunfire goddess."

Kimylla sensed his intention as Night Runner's words stroked her ear. He gently removed his arm from her, then opened the door. In seconds, they moved into hyperspeed.


Finally, the woman who fired his blood to raging lust was at his mercy whether she knew it or not.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice soft as the wildflower blossoms he loped through as wolf. "I don't recognize this place." 

"You're in the Scots Best of Breed Tavern, lassie," a man with a Scottish brogue answered. "What cin I get for ya?" 

"Bring us dinner with all the trimmings, would you, Duff ole friend? I know my stomach's almost stuck to my backbone." Night Runner eased his hold on Kimylla, circling his palms over her delicately rounded belly. "I'm betting you're hungry, right, sweet darling?"

"I'm starving," his warrior goddess announced. "And the food smells heavenly. Oh, if you have anything pumpkin, please..." she paused, casting her gaze toward Duff, who stood before his great stone hearth in his clan kilt. "Zeiran 'Duff' McDuff of Vretland?"

"The one and only, lassie. Sorry to say, I haven't made your acquaintance." Duff straightened to his full overwhelming height, his stance like a stud dog showing off.

"I know you by reputation. The Scottie dog shapeshifter who can hurl like a giant at the Highland games."

Night Runner wondered if Kimylla realized she stroked his hand. He also wondered if she knew how much his ramrod straight cock enjoyed the blatant curves of her ass. If she didn't, he would absolutely demonstrate later, once he slowly peeled off her skintight suede breeches.

"Ah, lovely lady, I'm retired now." Duff's grand smile took over his features. "I've got me fine tavern and me lovely place at Dante's. An' I'm settlin' into Talbot's Peak."  

"How about the table closest to the hearth?" Night Runner smoothed his palm down Kimylla's shapely arm as he moved beside her.

Duff gestured toward the table in his dramatic style. "The fire is crackling like a happy soul, and I'll be off gettin' your supper." He smiled at Kimylla, his eyes twinkling. "Lassie, I've brewed a special pumpkin spice ale, just for this seasonly occasion."

"Perfect. May I address you as Duff?"

"Surely, lassie. You two make yourselves at home. I'll be right out with pumpkin scones. Made by fairy hands," Duff added, and gave them both a wink.


Kimylla allowed herself to be escorted toward the small, dark-wood table that beckoned her anyway. She was tired, even for a goddess. Her stomach was on the verge of rebellion, demanding a good dinner. And, the only way she would gain Night Runner's help would be to hear him out.

He seated her like a gentlemanly rogue. Without taking his glittering, blue-eyed gaze off her, he lowered himself, so they sat close. Their knees touched, and he gazed into her eyes with a passion that sent licks of flame through her, deliciously sizzling her nether parts.

"It's like this, my sunfire goddess, I'll go to the ends of the Earth." He paused, his gaze devouring her face. "Hell, love, I'll go to the ends of the galaxy."

"To the ends of the universe," she teased, interrupting him.

"Yes." He captured her hand, then enfolded it within his tenderly.

"What do you want?" she taunted in a murmur, as quivers of excitement ran through her mid-section.

"I want you, Kimylla. I want you in my bed. I want wild primitive coupling. I want hours, days of lovemaking."

Kimylla let the shock subside, just a bit, before she asked, "Is that all?"

"For now." A slow wicked smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face.

"On one condition," Kimylla seductively teased.

His gaze darkened like storm clouds gathering, and his grip on her hand
possessively tightened. Kimylla shuddered inside, wanton in a way she'd never imagined, never come close to feeling.

"Your condition?" he finally growled.

With her heart thumping fast, like a rabbit's heart, Kimylla leaned forward. Their gazes locked and melted into each other for several moments. "You wear a bonnie kilt for me. Fine as Duff is wearing."


Have a magickal and wicked Halloween!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~