BLESSED SAMHAIN EVERYONE!!!

Halloween Hotness

Ziva’d been back to work for a couple of days now, but still she growled at each of her fellow employees. She half hoped her warning went unheeded, and they’d continue to ask her what happened.  She wasn’t herself and this need for comforting was confusing her.  Unfortunately, her growl still packed a punch and most veered away, letting her get to her office in relative peace.

Only a few braved her warning, but Nick, who kept pace behind her like the secret service, warded them off before she could taste their blood, or more to the point, wept into their shoulders. 

Lumbering Lupa, how was she going to survive weeks as an emotional wreak and wrapped like a freaking mummy, at that?  A mummy, damn it.  She planned her Halloween costume with great care this year.  She was going to transform herself into a belly dancer with the sexy coined belts and finger bells to boot. 

The costume was a way to empower herself and had the added benefit of driving Nick crazy with all the bared skin.  Now there were gauze wrapped and scars, a mummy’s worth of them.

Nick swore she didn’t look as bad as she felt, but then he didn’t want to risk losing access to her one remaining system—Ms. Puss.  Clearly, he’d not yet realized her multitude of injuries put the kaput’s on their favorite position—doggie.

“What’s wrong, mate?  Are you having pain?  Should we go home and rest?”

“No, Nick, I’m fine, just bummed that I’ve ruined Halloween.”  She had too, ruined one of their favorite holidays, that is, a night for thrills and chills and naughtiness that made life worth living.  Lupa she was maudlin. 

“Ziva,” Nick cooed into her ear.  “You didn’t ruin Halloween, I’ve made all our plans at the pleasure club for tonight.  All of the employees have tickets to come, if they want, and to sample any of the public parties taking place…including the one G&B is putting on.  This is our Christmas after all.  I also reserved our room for afterwards.  Elly is staying with the cubs and I believe Mooney and Marissa are bring the boys to our place to stay after their party.”

“Nick.” She turned to her mate with love in her eyes.  “How did you have time to plan all of this?”

“I have a secret peaparrot on staff…she’s a menace when it comes to multi-tasking.”

“Thank you, my love, but I can’t go like this.”  She gestured to her gauze wrapped body.

“Who said you’d have too?  Go into your office.”
Nick nudged her through the door and there, on a Ziva sized mannequin was the most brilliantly white, floor length dress she’d ever seen.  She moved to touch the fabric and almost sobbed out loud.  It was so soft…delicate and flowing.  It was perfect.

“I figured a ghost would be the perfect get-up for you and your body is too delicious for some old sheet.  Besides, you can wear this after Halloween, you know, if you want.”

“I want.” Ziva hugged her love as best she could and let the tears fall.

“It’s okay, Ziva,” Nick murmured, holding her as long as she needed him too.

“What are you going as?”  She asked once the tears had stopped.

“That’s a surprise.”  He smiled at her as he left the office.

##

Several hours later Ziva stood in the room Nick had reserved for the G&B holiday party, nibbling on snacks and talking to her co-workers, feeling like a million bucks.  Everyone was in love with her costume and dying to know where Nick got it, when in walked the man of the hour himself.

“OhmyLupa,” Ziva nearly choked on the pig in a blanket she’d been eating when she got a load of her mate…her kilt wearing, stud…Highlander mate with a sword at his side.  A clearly wooden sword.  It was a broadsword sanded and stained to perfection.

Tonight and for years to come, that piece of wood would be wielded in pleasure and a wee bit o’pain.  Especially on the night of thrills and chills.

Happy Halloween!
~~~

I couldn't resist...David Tennant in a kilt...Oh Dr.!

Have a wonderful and safe Halloween!

Serena

Damien, Werewolf Godfather For Halloween

Halloween Werewolf howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I'd planned to continue Kailla, new human lady in town, and Thundercloud, my silver god-wolf... their mating-love story. I was planning to write their Halloween Eve date at The Bohemian Thunder Club.

However, it turns out the fate of Talbot's Peak hangs in the balance. Damien, the werewolf thug-alpha who is Dante's sire—the vicious werewolf who originally took over the town of Talbot's Peak—is back in town with a particular vengeance for town mayor, Gil. Damien has a message, one that can't be refused... once the warning has been delivered, our beloved mayor must decide which path he chooses.

But here's the back story...

~~~~~~

Damien, Werewolf Godfather For Halloween

Dante took long moments to look each of his Guardian Protectors in the eye—six of them sat before him in a semi-circle. Their emergency meeting inside his Secure Room, had been intense. They'd discussed options, solutions...offered various opinions. The future and safety of every shifter and supernatural who lived in Talbot's Peak hung in the balance, and the angry frustration was palpable—as if a rival pack of werewolves chewed on him.

"Yeah," Dante conceded to his trusted inner circle, "I like the squirrel man. Gil has been good for the Peak. But as you say, it might be time for him to either resign as mayor. Or we'll do a recall election. Let the people decide if they want to trade state money for the freedom to run their own lives."

Shoving his hand through his hair, Dante growled a sigh, and sat back. "Holy freakin' howls, my desk is covered with complaints, actual written letters. The Peak's email system almost blew up. Glad we don't do the social media thing–-too much NSA exposure. But scat hell," Dante snarled, "I couldn't walk around the club without my shifter and supernatural patrons stopping me, and pointedly saying Gil was looking damn good as dinner—fried, boiled, baked, spit-roasted over a campfire, charcoaled, barbequed, smoked slowly...you name it. And those were the polite folks."

Dante paused, his rumbly chuckle dry, with little mirth. "My staff finally did an email campaign to let everyone know we fooled the mayor and friends into believing it was state money—that they and their loved ones were still safe from prying state eyes—from state regs and rules—from inspectors."

"Like we need inspectors breathing down our necks, telling us how to run our businesses. You run a bad business here. No customers. Real simple."

Dante swore real sparks flew from Kalindi's eyes. The owner of the local ice creamery was normally angel-gentle. Except when riled. Then her goddess side super-stormed, lightning included.

"Quite a psy op to accomplish that mission—deceiving Gil, Louie, and Vernon. Then, driving off those two undercover agent posing as a state officials." Delvezio wolf-snarled, baring his teeth briefly. "All that time I and my team could have made deals, brought in more organic produce and products. As it was I had to let some good offers go."

"Temporary setback, Del." Leaning forward, Dante clapped his Greek cousin on the shoulder. "By the Wolf Moon Mother, we'll make up for it," he assured. "Politics is a bloody fight no one wins."

"It's been gawd-awful hunting down, and erasing all the cyber tracks. Again." Ezzy,  hacker extraordinnaire, spoke in a clipped manner. She crossed her arms, and  angrily tossed her waist-long red tresses. "Someone with the moniker, poindexter, is out to infiltrate Talbot's Peak via the state's computer system. Whoever this poindexter is, he's behind handing out the money grants. Just discovered that before this meeting."

"Poindexter." Dante crunched the name between his partially emerged fangs.

"We're game-planning how to sniff him/her/it out, and observe...before going in for the kill. Gotta know who is pulling the strings from the cyber shadows."

"Keep me in the know," Dante commanded. "Minute by minute, if necessary."

"Will do, wolf boss man."

Dante barked out a growl. The thought slid into his mind like a weasel thief in the night. "Maybe, we'll sic this poindexter on Gil, Louie, and Vernon. The true danger of this situation might sink in, seep through those thick skulls of theirs—if their computer systems are compromised. If you, Ezzy, and your team, aren't around to save their butts. As you do daily."

"And thanks to Ezzy," Kitty gave a nod to the fox shifter woman, "to all of our Guardian teams, everyone is still safe and sound in Talbot's Peak. And, that's the only reason I haven't given Gil, Louie, and Vernon, a good cat-clawing—drawn serious blood. At least, not yet."

Dante fastened his gaze on his Kitty as she fumed. Her gorgeous eyes glowed dangerously. With time, patience, and his love, his mate had discovered her power.

"And thanks to Delvezio," Kitty gave him a wide smile, "we did fool those 'mansion-trio' fools into believing they were getting their precious money from the state. What the scat-attachment is to believing the establishment really cares about the folks in this town is beyond me. Especially in this day and age of massive *out the big fat wazoo* corruption. What? Do those three have father-issue complexes? And need a daddy-state?" Kitty snorted a sarcastic yowl, then folded her arms. "Louie is lucky I didn't call him out with his infamous meat cleaver. He's double-lucky I was too busy convincing good families not to move out of Talbot's Peak. To wait until we could sort this all out."

"I even gave Louie and Vernon the head's up," Kalindi spoke up. "That they were about to lose their strong customer base because of a possible exodus out of the Peak. That all of our business would suffer."

About to respond, Dante opened his mouth just as the emergency buzzer sounded.  He sprang off his chair, leaped the few steps, and jerked open the door. His long-time trusted friend, White Fang, the super wolf, didn't wait for an invitation. He slipped inside fast. Dante secured the door.

"Your sire is on the outskirts of Talbot's Peak." Even as he spoke, White Fang spun and faced Dante. "Minutes ago I spotted Damien and three of his top pack enforcers while flying perimeter patrol. His limo is unmistakable."

"Yeah, black as the tar pits. Long as a giant's casket," Dante growly affirmed.

"Long story short, I directed the ole super hearing. Mayor Gil is about to get one spookalooza visit. Although," White Fang paused for a beat, "on the positive side, roadkill wasn't mentioned."

"I told those know-it-all idjits that Damien wouldn't take kindly to them compromising the Peak with state money." Kitty rushed to Dante's side.

"Even with the tunnel speeder, I won't get there in time." Dante gripped the door handle.

"I'm on it." White Fang flashed out the door, saying, "I'll intervene if it looks like Gil is about to wear a pair of cement boots."

****

Damien settled himself in the mayoral chair. He tested out the swivel mechanism, then gave a derisive snort which became a low growl. "I should have brought my own chair. This is only fit for a piss-pathetic squirrel playin' at being town mayor. Scat moon, it stinks like nuts in here."

"Lights on, boss?" one of his enforcers asked.

"Naw. I want the squirrel to sweat. Shadowy monstrous figures and all. It's the Halloween season."

"We're werewolves, boss...what's with the shadowy figure business?"

"More godfather like, boys... but put your werewolf masks on, in case the mayor needs some more convincing. Now shut up. I hear the squirrel pattering up the steps."

Damien leashed his own inner werewolf. Tight. Hard. It wouldn't serve his purpose to fang-shred Gil into bloody bits. The unspoken truce between him and his disowned son—one *son of a wolf* formidable rival—served Damien's current plans.

The door opened, and Damien watched the squirrel man walked inside. "Dante? You wanted an emergency meeting? What's wrong?"

On that cue, one of Damien's enforcers slammed the door shut. Gil jumped like a squirrel whose tail had been bitten, and whirled to the door.

"You're not going anywhere, mayor. If you value that squirrel-human hide of yours, you'll hear me out."

"Who–who–who...?" Gil sounded like a distressed owl. Damien almost guffawed in a howl.

"Damien's the name. Remember that name, mayor?"

Silence. Utter silence. The squirrel man froze as if he'd been bodily tossed into an icy river.

Rising to his full height, Damien gestured to the chair. "Have a seat, mayor. Let's keep this civilized."

"Civ–civ-civilized?" Gil crept toward the chair, his beady eyes crisscrossing.

"My disowned son, is far more generous than I..it appears." Damien resumed his seat, posturing himself like the godfather from the movie of the same name. Once Gil managed to perch on the edge of the chair, he continued. "As I understand it,  you were given sufficient funds for your...what is it? ... the Autumn Nip and Romp Fun Festival?"

"Close enough," Gil squeaked out.

"I also understand his mate—that cat woman—explained in no uncertain terms why it was unwise to accept funds from a state agency... yet, you did so."

"It was forced upon..."

Damien bolted uprigh, pinning the shrinking Gil with his gaze. "Do you know why I took over this off-the-map town?" he boomed in werewolfian.

"Uh...uh, no...but, isn't that what wolves do? Take–take over territory?"

Damien uttered a short irritated growl. "Of course, we do. Scat, I thought walnuts were good for brain health. Don't you eat enough walnuts, mayor?"

"I'll...I'll eat more."

Damien stalked in front of the puny desk, then glared down at the scrunched up were-squirrel who still maintained his human form.

"Granted," Damien huffed in a pant of breath, "I am an ego maniac. So a drug-dealing psychiatrist will tell you. Yes, owning a town is ferociously appealing. But do you have any clue whatsoever why I really decided on this dangerous *get hunted down* move in the human-ruled world?"

Gil shook his head, his lips a straight line, as if they'd been permanently glued together.

Again Damien drew in a large breath, reminding himself the mayor was not particularly tasty. "I wanted to build a safe harbor, as they say. A safe den for my family, my pack. My grandpups. You," he shoved his finger in Gil's face, "you, and that *thinks he's tough* rat, and that turncoat scat-brain, Vernon, are endangering my family, my pack. My grandpups."

Striding to the side of the room, Damien tightened the leash on his werewolf, stopping his shift. "You don't get it, squirrel. Talbot's Peak only survives and grows as a safe town for you, your family—for shifters, and Lupa knows what kind of other supernaturals—because my disowned son makes certain everyone is protected. He, and those who surround him protect this territory from invaders you wouldn't dream about in your worst nightmares."

"When you have a moment, mayor, you might want to think about this scenario. If my disowned son decides to build his own town, how many in Talbot's Peak would pick up, leave immediately? I've been told his Pleasure Club can already accommodate the current population, should there be one of those prepper, *end of the world* emergencies.

"If your peanut brain is capable, think about this possibility. All my disowned son has to do is choose a suitable location, send in the planners and builders. He could replicate this place in less than a year, given his resources. You," Damien spun to Gil, "would have to rely on state aid, state handouts to help your rapidly lessening population. Count on the slackers, not many of them, to be at the head of any line with their paws out.

"Also, mayor, do give this consideration." Damien straightened his suit jacket, an imitation of Marlon Brando in "The Godfather". "You have no standing army to protect yourself from those who are only too willing to destroy every shifter on Earth." Damien paused for effect. "It's doubtful Mr. Turkle and his gun-toting clan would come to your rescue."

Damien sauntered toward the door. He tipped his invisible hat. "Good luck, as they say, mayor. Oh, as a matter of course you might want to know those were not state funds that were 'forced' upon you... or, an offer you couldn't refuse. You, and the chef rat, and that wolf turncoat, were duped, bamboozled, played during that recent meeting with my disowned son. Yeah scat, I got my own official sources. But gotta give that black-sheep son of mine a big paw-slap of credit. Turns out he's a fang off the ole werewolf block when it comes to deception—when it comes down to protecting his pack, and the pack's territory."

"Ah," Damien spun from the door. "Almost forgot this warning, mayor. Quite neglectful of me. Should you, and your friends, decide to go with the system, as they say, I plan to immediately establish my complete dominance over Talbot's Peak. Roadkill reports in the Guts and Butts Gazette will skyrocket, let's say. You should also know a new version of the werewolf mammoth merely awaits my command.

"Of course, my disowned son, and his Guardians, would try to protect you, all of you remaining Peakites. However, he, they will be weakened by rebuilding, by providing homes for those who leave this town. After all, my disowned son's first alpha responsibility will be to those loyal to him." Damien loosed a bark of diabolical-sounding laughter. "Let the werewolf wars begin.

"Confidentially, mayor, for your squirrel ears only, my black-sheep son is too powerful to fight jaw to jaw. Yes, I admit it. I failed to put the dominant-bite on him soon enough—due to my underestimation of his alpha abilities. And, rule number one, I don't start wars I could lose.

"One more little tidbit, a nut tossed your way, mayor. Look at it this way. Do you want to live under the alpha protection of my disowned son? Or, beneath my much less benevolent protection?"

A huge wolfish grin split Damien's face as he strolled through the door one his enforcers immediately opened. "Trick or treat, Mayor Gil."

"Scat! I didn't get to go werewolf on the lousy squirrel..."

"Next time, Deboner, next time. I promise."

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Ghost Story

“Didn’t I tell you this was gonna happen?” Loki said sulkily. “This party blows.”

For once his twin brother Thor wasn’t in complete agreement. Yeah, the Beavers’ rec room smelled like wood chips and Bonita’s parents wouldn’t let her play the stereo loud and the games were lame, but the food wasn’t half bad even for a herbie house and the grownups were having their own Halloween party upstairs so for the most part they left the kids alone. Except for when Bonita’s uncle came downstairs and tried to scare them with some creaky old story even a first grader would scoff at. What did he think they were, six?

At least they hadn’t tried that ancient bit with the brains and eyeballs and that. Like a wolf’s nose couldn’t tell the difference between brains and a plate of spaghetti. Only human kids fell for that moldy oldie. Carnie kids would just eat the stuff, real or not. Most parents in the Peak knew better. Bonita’s uncle finally gave up and left the kids to themselves, which suited everybody just fine.

“The party’s okay,” he said to Loki now. “You wanna dance or something?”

“Nah.” Loki looked like he wanted to just sit and scowl. He seemed to be missing things that had become more apparent to Thor. Like how Bonita Beaver’s cowgirl costume fit her funny in the chest this year. It seemed to stick out more. Or how the girls wanted to dance more than play party games, or just stand and giggle at the boys. Thor had to admit he wouldn’t mind standing next to Bonita and her interesting new chest himself.

Loki nudged his brother. His scowl had upended into a grin. “Good thing we made plans in case this happened, huh?”

Bonita was standing in the corner with that stupid elk kid, Kerry Long/Lang/Loogie/Whatever. “Yeah, I guess.”

The nudge became a jab. “You guess?”

“Okay, okay. We’ll do it now. Before somebody’s mom comes down and checks on us again.”

“Right.” Loki waited for the song on the CD player to end, then stood up. “Hey. Who wants to see a real ghost?”

# # #

“The year was 1845,” Loki said, waving his plastic wizard’s wand in the air. His robe swirled around his feet, not quite dragging on the sidewalk. The other fourteen partygoers followed at his heels. Thor brought up the rear and kept a sharp eye out for any grownup who might screw up their fun. “The Talbot pack had moved into Montana the year before. They thought this part of the state was deserted, but there were humans around. Mountain men, cattle ranchers, Indians, that kind of stuff.”

“You’re supposed to call them Native Americans,” Eddie Cooper said. His family were bear shifters, and had given the Sioux nightmares up until about a century ago. “Though we used to just call ‘em ‘dinner’.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Loki said. “The point is, the Talbot pack thought there weren’t any dangerous humans up here—”

“Humans are always dangerous,” Eddie Lang said. Many of the others nodded.

“Exactly,” Loki agreed. “A bunch of them got hold of Jarrod Talbot. They called him a warlock and a skinwalker and all that other stuff. Then they put a noose around his neck and hung him from a tree.” He waved his wand. “That tree.”

The procession stopped and gawked in awe at the venerable oak Loki pointed to. It stood at one end of the small town green, within sight of City Hall. The Mayor himself, it was rumored, frequently helped himself to its acorns. “And now,” Loki continued, “on cold, dark nights like this one, the ghost of Jarrod Talbot appears to avenge himself against—”

“Wait a minute,” Bonita said. “That tree wasn’t even planted until 1925. So how could they have hung Jarrod Talbot from it when it wasn’t even there yet?”

The kids looked at Bonita. The Beavers were on a first-name basis with almost every tree within the Talbot’s Peak city limits, having planted most of them over the decades since the town’s founding. Nobody questioned a Beaver when it came to trees. They turned back to Loki for an explanation.

Loki never missed a beat. “Exactly. The original tree got chopped down in 1900. That’s why Jarrod stopped showing up, because his tree was gone. But this one got planted on the same spot. As soon as it got big enough, Jarrod’s ghost started appearing again. I mean, he’s a ghost, how’s he supposed to know the difference?”

The kids nodded. It made sense. Thor let out the breath he’d been holding in a whoosh.

“C’mon,” Loki urged, his voice hushed. “Let’s see if he’s here.”

He led the way across the street. They followed in a nervous clump. As they neared the tree Loki hung back until he was standing by Thor. “Did you check on the rope?” he whispered.

Thor was glaring at Bonita and Kerry’s linked hands. “Huh?”

“I said, did you check—”

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a minute.” Thor slipped into the bushes. Earlier in the day he and Loki had planted an old store mannequin in the tree, painted white and dressed in a ratty wig and a fake wolf fur, with a rope around its neck. Once they loosened the primary knot the thing would come rattling down through the branches. Kerry Lang would probably crap himself. Thor picked up his pace.

Seconds later he hissed through the bushes at Loki. “Dude! C’mere! Now!”

“What?” Loki joined him in the underbrush. He looked where Thor pointed. There lay their mannequin, still in its wig and wolfskin but minus the noose, crumpled up beneath a bush like a broken Ken doll.

“Dammit!” Loki swore. “The Mayor must’a found out or something. Now whatta we do?”

Dejected, he and Thor emerged from the bushes and rejoined their fellow partygoers. The group was getting restless, and skeptical. “Maybe it wasn’t this tree,” Loki said. “It might’a been—”

At that moment Jarrod Talbot appeared.

The ghost of the slain shifter dropped from above and landed before the partiers. What remained of his decaying flesh gleamed pallidly in the dark. His streaming mane was striking white and ragged. His eyes had no color at all. He was also missing his feet: his legs ended at the shins, causing him to float above the ground. A hangman’s noose dangled from his neck.

He pointed a huge, clawed hand at Loki. His mouth opened in a soundless roar.

The kids’ screams more than made up for his silence.

Kerry didn’t crap his pants, but he did shift. The panicked elk led the stampede back across the street. The partygoers—some human, most animal—followed the rapidly-disappearing Kerry toward the safety of the Beaver family’s rec room. All of a sudden those party games didn’t seem so lame after all.

“Geezum,” Loki panted, once they’d put a block and a half between themselves and the raging phantom. “He was real? I got his name out of a history book.”

“Looked real enough to me,” Thor said. He looked for Bonita, but she’d fled with the rest of the bunch. “Smelled it, too. Yuck.”

“We should go back,” Loki said. “Bet we could catch him.”

Thor demonstrated his growing maturity. He cuffed his twin on the shoulder. “Dude. You gotta learn to quit while you’re ahead.”

# # #

Chuckling to himself, Sergei followed the children just long enough to make sure they were safely on the way back to their little party. The few adults out on the streets peered curiously at the albino tiger shifter. A growl was sufficient to send them on their way as well.

Once he was satisfied the children were all right, Sergei returned to the oak. He tossed the noose aside and retrieved his long black coat and hat. His matte-black boots had disguised his feet quite nicely in the dark, giving the impression he was floating.

Dressed once more, he strolled toward Java Joe’s. There he would wash off the zombie makeup and collect his payment, a cup of the strong tea he favored. He would take no money from a mother looking to school her cubs in the hazards of frightening others.

Marissa had also promised him cookies.

Ah, Halloween. A time for treats, and especially tricks. Still chuckling, he entered the coffee shop.

Fall Festival Launches

"Well Gill," Vernon said.  "I think you did a great job putting the money that Dante and group provided us."

"I had no choice.  We couldn't say no and we couldn't return the state money either."  Gill leaned against the counter of the dunking booth. 

Vernon's wolfy laugh didn't help.  Gill knew that Dane and many of the Peak's leading citizens weren't happy that they took the state money.  Nor that their attempt at erasing all the transactions wasn't successful.  Chloe hadn't talked much about her and Woody's meeting with Dante and group.  She only said both sides agreed to move forward on decision making processes in the future.  Rumors that a few shapeshifters were in state government offices provided some relief.  How much only time could tell.

"Look Gill," Vernon chided placing more balls on the table.  "You and I know that taking the state money was the right thing.  Humans need to know the state is looking out for them."

"Frack," Gill cussed pointing toward the two teens approaching the booth.  "Yes, and here come two of the reason why.  These two love to stick their nose into others private lives."

Monty Jackson and his BFF Karmen Dongal walked like they owned the midway.  Swagging like two fighting roosters ready to pick a fight first chance they got.  Gill snorted at his thought.  Neither of the teens were shapeshifters.  They were only trouble makers.  Their parents moved to the Peak after their car broke down out on the highway.  Tony, the local mechanic, hired Monty's father due to his knowledge of cars and trucks.  The man had a talent for fixing engines and keeping vehicles running.  The business generated additional income for the businesses at the edge of town and closer to the interstate.  Teaching Monty and Karmen a lesson would take finesse and a lot of strategy.  Maybe this was one of those times when letting Dante handle the teacher's role made sense.

"Give me two of them balls," Monty demanded tossing two Talbies on the table.  "Let's see what I can do with this fake money."

"Yea, Mon.  Dunk that fat ass sitting there."  Karmen pointed at Louie sitting on the seat inside the dunking booth. 

"Oh this should be easy."  Monty picked up the ball, rubbing his hands around the worn baseballs hide.  He pulled his arm back and let go with a fast ball pitch.

Gill turned toward the booth.  Louie already had his hands up ready to drop into the water below.  Many of the tank's occupant pushed a button  on the seat sending them into the water giving some of the children a thrill when they came close to hitting the bulls eye button on the front of the tank.

This time, Louie stated on the seat.  He glanced left and right. His gaze met Gill's.  Gill shrugged and handed Monty his next ball.  "Try again?" Gill asked.

Monty pitched again, sending the ball faster than before.  Louie stayed seated.  Karmen tried his skill.
Louie remained dry and seated.  The teens turned to Gill, fists clenched. 

"Hold on boys," Vernon said moving around the table.  "Let me see what's going on."  Gill handed Vernon a ball.  He picked up the ball, eyed his target, nodded, and tossed. 

Louie dropped into the tank.  He came up sputtering and spitting.  "Nice hit Vernon. Maybe the boys want to check out the seat and bulls eye."

Not one's to pass up a challenge, Monty and Karmen pulled Louie out of the water and sat on the bench.  "What's this?" Karmen asked pushing the button on the bench.

"What the---" Monty cried out as the seat collapsed sending both of them plunging into the chilling cold water below. 

Several moments passed as each tried to climb out of the tank with no success.  "Get us out of here," Monty called.

"One way to do that," Gill responded.  "Put the seat up.  Climb on to it and over the top to get out."

The seat sprung back into place.  Karmen sat on the seat leaning forward to offer Monty a hand up.

Three balls sped past Gill, Louie, and Vernon.  All hit the bulls eye sending the soaking wet teens back into the tank.  Each time they tried to get out more balls hit the bulls eye.  Gill smiled as he kept collecting money for those quietly getting back at the bullies.  The Peak's citizens understood fair, safe, and sane equality.  He wondered if Monty and Karmen would once they got out of the tank and reflected on the incident.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Hope you enjoyed today's flash piece.  I wish I could say there's more to come.  I don't know.  Maybe my blog mates will pick up where this piece leaves off or another part of the story line.  I'm going to be out of the loop for a few weeks recovering from surgery.  I'll post as I can. 

Keep some good books handy to share with your loves and spice.  I've got a few.  DP and Mage are getting others ready.  I know we'll be discussing some good reads.

Until I'm back,

Solara

Safe & Sound

Nick stood sentinel over his mate, now resting as comfortably as she could in her wolf form.  She’d come to, briefly, while flying toward help in Erol’s massive, clawed grip.  He owed that dragon much and would somehow repay him.  Ziva and the pups were his world as he was theirs.

“How’s our patient?”

“Hey Leo,” Nick addressed the town vet, lightly, of course, so as not to wake the sleeping wolf. “She seems to be a bit more relaxed.  Shifting definitely helped.”

“Yeah, it usually does and the cocktail of meds I gave her will give her the chance to sleep a lot of the healing off.  She is going to be incredibly sore for the next week or so and with how deep her scrapes went, she’ll scab, but shouldn’t scar.”

“Thanks man.  And thanks for the use of the kilt.”  Nick glanced down at the surprising comfortable attire Leo had loaned him.  “Hell of a lot of freedom in this bad boy.”

“I know and the ladies love them.”

“That’s what I hear,” Nick laughed.  “Ziva’s always threatening me with one, I should have let her win that battle.  I’ll get it cleaned and back to you…”

“Forget it, why don’t you keep it and surprise your lady with it, she’s going to need something to keep the grumps away until she’s fully healed.  Besides, I have a bunch of them.  Gotta go.”

“Thanks again, Leo.”

Nick smiled to himself, he’d definitely surprise Ziva with his newest attire, maybe on Halloween.  He could be a sword wielding Highlander and for his lady love, a lovely, white silk, flowing dress.  It would work well with her bandages and she could be a beautiful ghost…or a lady in white.  He’d check out the new costume store in the Peak.  Word was, they did custom work and that was just what she needed…a lot of pampering.

##

Erol flew back, as quickly as he could, to where he’d left his fully dressed, Fair One.  She’d better have remained dressed or there would be hell to pay.  His mouth watered with the idea of a bit of toasted wolf.  He’s leave the young ones alone as he knew eating them would piss off his mate, but the other two were fair game.

As he drew closer to the ridge, he could see a soft white skin dancing on the rocks.  Not a seductive dance as most women would put on for their man, but for Greely, it was more like the robot mixed with a boot scoot and boogie as she’d called it the other day.  His woman could not dance, but for him it was the most seductive thing on the planet.

As long as the wolves were nowhere to be seen.

Erol landed in a shift and didn’t even bother to clothe himself.  He let his sense scan the area and found it was just he and Greely—a very naked Greely.  It didn’t get much better than this.

“Is this you being naughty?” he asked, even as he grabbed her by the ass and lifted her to him.

“No, think of it as your reward for doing something good,” she crooned into his ear.  “Unless you think I’m being naughty.”

“Definitely naughty, Fair One.  I think you need a spanking.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” she sighed into his ear.  “YIEEIEE,” then yelped as his hand came down on her plush cheek in the first of what would be many orgasm inducing pats.
~~~

Have a wonderful weekend!

Serena

Gloria joins the book club

Gloria swallowed her trepidation and edged into the back room of the coffee shop. She'd never even thought about joining Lamar's erotic book club, but she needed help. Serious help. She glanced over the printed sylibis of how to write a romance and shook her head.

It read like a paint-by-numbers instruction for writing a 1980s bodice ripper. Dumb, weak, subservient female who was pure as driven snow comes to the attention of an asshole, semi-abusive billionaire bad boy and somehow manages to win his heart through incompetence.

Yeah, even modern Harlequin Classic romances didn't require brainless, useless lead females. Modern readers preferred their heroines to have personalities and flaws. That was why she'd decided to come to this meeting of bookish minds. It wasn't a writing group but maybe she could figure out how to write a good romance that someone would want to read while sticking to the paint-by-number guidelines by listening to other people critique books.

She sighed and kept browsing the list as everyone else filed into the room



"The heroine is a modern American woman between the ages of nineteen and
twenty-eight who reflects today’s concerns. The story is told in the third
person from her point of view. She is attractive and nicely dressed but not
glamorous, glitter and sophistication should be reserved for the other
woman (the heroine’s rival for the hero), whose flashiness will compare
unfavorably with the heroine’s modesty."



This was all garbage, Gloria mused. She supposed she could rewrite it to make her heroine no older than twenty-eight, but why? It's not like thirty-two was all that old. It was also more realistic for a real estate mogul to be older than nine-teen to twenty-eight.

"Alright, ladies. Time to get down to business so we can get down to fun. I see we have a new naughty convert with us this evening. Glo, wanna stand up and introduce yourself to the group?"

Gloria froze when she heard Lamar's sardonic voice call her out. All that trepidation she'd swallowed decided to come back up. Oh, no.

Promise Her Sunlight... Promise Her Halloween At The Bohemian Thunder Club

Shapeshifter lovers, Happy Howloween with lots of eerie, black-cat yowls.

So, the spookiest night of the year is streaking toward us like a mob of hostile apparitions. And again, I apologize for another late posting. However caretaking duties comes first.

And yes, I hope you enjoy another flash scene with my human heroine, Kailla, who is being courted by Thundercloud, a god-wolf shifter. Big hunky Thunder stars in this scene, and is not expecting Kailla's arrival at his pack-clan's nightclub. However, he is not a wolf to be caught off guard.

The previous flash scenes are: *One Shade of Silver Wolf*, *Thundercloud yanked on his mental leash.*, *Did the man lift mountains as a hobby?*, and *Halloween Huntress of the Star Empire*.

~~~~~~

Promise Her Sunlight... Promise Her Halloween At The Bohemian Thunder Club

"Promise her sunlight." Thundercloud's big brother, Thunderbolt clapped him on the shoulder as he spoke. Yet, Bolt's sharp gaze remained on the nightclub's prep crew, who scurried about efficiently checking and rechecking every inch of The Bohemian Thunder Club. All must be in perfect order, immaculately clean—the candles lit .

The warm candlelight sparkled the glassware, the silverware, and diamond-shimmered the crystal centerpieces, trimmed in gold. Most superior though, a woman's beauty was enhanced by firelight, and her soul always responded. Her feminine essence flamed high, becoming a splendor men fell headfirst into.

With his superior nose—the best nose of his clan-pack—Thundercloud carefully sniffed the stimulating, pungent blend of essential oils infusing the air. As he always did when working at the club. Reminiscent of their Norse god roots, the married scents of deep forest,  spring flowers, and sky, were carried by the breezy currents of their circulation system.

For moments, he watched the team of men shifters worked enthusiastically, in large part, because of the rewards. Certainly, they were paid well, and had major perks at the club. However, it was the gorgeous banquet of women who would be arriving soon that put lightning up their spines...as he and his wolf shifters siblings phrased it. .

"Promise her sunlight," Thundercloud grumbled in a growl. "Sound mating advice if Kailla was a Norse maiden, and we lived in our wintry homeland."

"Give her time. Your future mate is a human female, after all. You realize they require patience, and a tenderer care." Bolt gave a nod to their bar manager, who signaled that all was ready from his station within the semi-curved, plush area. Instead of polished wood, the surface of the bar was silvery-veined marble.

"Go inspect the troops. It will distract you for a short time, brother." Bolt indicated their hunky male servers. Attired in only faux-fur loin cloths and lace-up suede boots, they lined up near the entrance, ready to wait on their women customers.

As Thunder spun toward the mostly naked lineup of 'beefcake' men, Bolt slapped him heartily on the back, his sympathies clear. He'd earned the trust of his human mate, Krystal, over a year's time—after rescuing her in New York's Central Park.

Focusing, despite the strength of his mating ache, Thundercloud critically eyed the appearance of each server. The women who frequented the nightclub wanted eye candy, men they could ogle, appreciate without fear of being hit on—as the human saying went. That is, unless such attentions were desired.

Before any man was allowed to work at The Bohemian Thunder Club, he was dutifully informed that if he dared harm any woman in any manner, he'd have his throat ripped out by wolf.

Near the end of the lineup, Thundercloud's nose did him proud. She was here. His Kailla.

He whirled around before she entered. "You're on your own, gentlemen. Please the ladies, and you'll be pleasing our pack. And you know the rewards." Thundercloud ate up the floor with his long strides, not hearing one word spoken to him.

Had curiosity gotten the better of his beauty? Did she want to see him in his nightclub environment? By the battleaxe, he'd offered to escort her many a time, show her the club, and treat her as his untouched queen for the night.

Yet, she'd refused, but did not refused his courtship, dating him as was the American custom. Now...???

"Kailla," he rumbled low and soft, once she cautiously strolled inside. Thundercloud took up her hands, noting the evening makeup she'd applied to her lovely face.

She wore a simple mini-frock, the color of a pale pink winter sunset. The material glimmered over her sumptuous curves, and caressed her at mid thigh. The very thighs he panted over.

"You don't mind that I'm here...do you?" She gave him a soft smile, then flipped her  loose, shiny hair. The dark coppery color glinted in the candlelight.

Thundercloud did some mental howling and wolfish panting. "No, of course not, Kailla. I've been attempting to persuade you. For how long now?"

After a flirtatious smile, she raised on tiptoe. Their lips met in what Thundercloud thought of as a greeting kiss. For public consumption only, their kiss ended way too soon. Yet, the underlying passion flowed and swelled like a river during spring rains.

"I thought I'd come and see what I was in for, since..." She took his offered arm, and Thundercloud moved them toward the bar.

"Since," he prompted at her hesitation. Thundercloud stroked her arm, his gaze seeking out the perfect table for them.

"Since..." she drew in a hiss of breath, and released it. "I have a costume...and you invited me to the club's Halloween party."

Thundercloud grinned, lighting up inside as if he sat beneath one of the recent super moons. "Hints about your costume, my beauty, so I may choose a suitable compliment," he managed in a steady and gentlemanly voice.

"Hmmm...it's...it's rather racy. For me, anyway. Wow," she halted her steps, "forgive me for staring. But you weren't kidding about mostly naked, extremely hunky men."

Possessiveness stormed through Thundercloud. His blood pressure soared to the height of their clan's mountaintop castle. His wolf bared his fangs and growled a warning. MINE!

However, the cooler part of his nature realized his Kailla merely spoke the truth. Also, the undertone of her words was not lascivious, or desire for another man.

"Words like thunder break the silence," she offered the familiar song lyric, once they resumed their steps. "Did I insult you?"

"No, my beauty. You simply spoke truth. The fault is within me. I am a possessive man." Thundercloud well know his candor could work against him. Yet, he wanted as much emotional honesty between them as possible—before he revealed his god-shifter side.

"How about I parade mostly naked before you? Serve you this evening, my beauty. Is there a fur loincloth that pleases your eye most among the styles our servers wear?"

She squeezed his arm, and Thundercloud felt Kailla's womanly delight, her relief. "Mmm...they're all fabulously primal. I see tiger, zebra, leopard, black panther, buffalo, polar bear, lion...is that supposed to be wolf skin?"

"All is left to the woman's imagination," Thundercloud lightly teased. "Would you like to view the full ...

"The full monty," she teased in return, interrupting him. "Did you ever even see that movie?" she inquired at his silence.

"Movie?"

"No. I'm guessing you don't know what I'm referring to."

"I have heard the term," Thundercloud swung Kailla before him. "Now that I think upon it." He paused, his gaze feasting on her slightly flushed face. "No full monty here, my beauty, within the confines of the club, of course. Now the Pleasure Club...that is an entirely different erotic story. As you may know."

"So I've heard." Dry as the wine he preferred, his woman's tone.

Their gazes fused, their passion simmering, ready to erupt into a fiery torrent. Yet, the emotion between them, it was great as the mountains he revered. Their hearts beat for each other. Thundercloud heard them become one in rhythm.

"Space babe meets kickass huntress...my costume." Kailla spoke in a near whisper, her eyes smokey, yet starry with desire. "Why don't you surprise me, cave man?" She flipped her gaze to his groin.

TO BE CONTINUED...

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Awkward

“Decided on your costume yet?” Judy asked.

“I’m working on it,” Hoover said. Though at the moment he was more intent on catching the end of the game. He sensed Judy hovering at the door to her bedroom and realized he wasn’t going to get away with a prolonged silence. “I thought I’d go as a—”

“Don’t you dare say cowboy. Every other man and woman there will be dressed in some form of cowboy outfit.”

“Well, we do live in Montana.”

“I want to be something different. I was hoping we could go as a pair.”

Nope, no chance of bailing on this conversation any time soon, Hoover muted the sound on the TV. He could still easily follow the action without the announcers yapping in the background. “Sure, I’m game. What did you have in mind?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know yet. All I know is, I don’t want to be part of a crowd. I want us to stand out.”

“It’s not a contest, honey. It’s a Halloween party at a bar.”

Specifically, the Caverns, the entertainment complex located in the underground complex formerly belonging to mad scientist Morloxian. A vampiress had taken it over last spring and turned it into a subterranean playground for people coming in off the interstate. Humans in particular, to Hoover’s relief.

Judy was human. They’d been dating for over a year and she still had no clue about Talbot’s Peak, or that she was going out with a wolf shifter. Hoover waffled on telling her the truth, sometimes mentally flip-flopping as much as a dozen times a day. He liked her a helluva lot, but could he trust her?

Until he could be sure her reaction would be positive, he didn’t dare tell her the truth about either the Peak or himself. And until he told her, he didn’t dare take her to the Interspecies Pleasure Club or any of the other secret establishments Dante had set up. Fortunately, the Caverns provided much the same outlets, only here at the exit, far from the Peak, and tailored for human consumption. The vampiric owner had no quarrel with shapeshifters, as long as they didn’t cause trouble and paid their tab.

“I don’t care. I want to go as something people will remember no matter how drunk they are. So no cowboys. And nothing that looks like an animal. Everybody dresses like an animal around here.”

Hoover snorted. Can’t imagine why. “I thought they all dressed as cowboys.”

“It’s sort of mix and match. People in horse masks and bull masks and cowboy hats. It was funny the first time, then it got old. Though I have to admit, Robbie’s giraffe costume was spectacular. I mean, that looked so freakin’ real. How do you think he did it? Stilts?”

Genetics, Hoover thought. He wondered what she was doing in the bedroom, and why she wasn’t out here on the couch with him. It sounded like she was rummaging around in her closet. Then his team’s running back made it to the five yard line and he lost track of the conversation for a minute. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something unusual. Something original. Like Cory’s last year, remember? She came as a cigarette. White pants, dyed her hair red. Wonder what she’ll do this year? She quit smoking over the summer. I think she said she wants to come as a pack of gum. Or Maryanne. One year she dressed as a Christmas tree, and Claude was a wreathe. That was before he lost all the weight.”

“Or the Bosemans,” Hoover said. “She had that armless tennis outfit. Venus Williams de Milo. And he had the tennis dress and the KISS makeup. Billy Jean Simmons.”

“I’d love to come up with something like that,” Judy said. “But please, no more Jesus with a pregnant nun costumes. That’s so overdone.”

“Y’know,” Hoover said slowly, “there’s this shop in Talbot’s Peak that does custom Halloween costumes. Original creations. You give ‘em the basic idea and they run with it. I’ll be happy to spring for whatever you want. Once you’ve got yours, we can figure out mine.”

“You’re so sweet. We could go as matching candy bars—no, Tim and Larraine are doing that. If I could just find this—I know I’ve got it in here somewhere—hey! There you are.”

“Found something?” Hoover asked, while thinking with his fingers crossed, Dukes of Hazzard. Dukes of Hazzard. He’d dress as Bo or Luke or even Boss Hogg if it meant seeing Judy in Daisy Dukes. Oh baby.

“Something my grandma gave me. Give me a minute. It’s got like a million buckles.”

Scat. She wasn’t really going to cover up those legs in an old lady dress, was she? Bite that. He’d put it on himself, go as Norman Bates’s mom if it kept her out of mumsy clothes. She could be Janet Leigh. Straight from the shower, naked and wet. Hoover felt himself getting hard.

“Okay,” Judy said, stepping out of the bedroom. “What do you think?”

Hoover turned around on the sofa. He let out a little eep.

Normally the sight of Judy in leather would have sent him over the edge. Not this outfit. He knew the look of armor when he saw it. This was no costume; it was the real deal. Conan the Barbarian couldn’t hack his way through that bodice, or those leggings. He’d have to deal with the sword first. It looked ancient, but still in fighting shape.

And that choker wasn’t a fashion statement. It was designed to protect the throat from fangs. Specifically, thick canines seated in lupine jaws.

He had a sinking feeling those wolf ears strung across her chest like a bandolier weren’t fake either.

“Holy shit,” he said weakly. “Who was your grandma, Xena?”

“Not hardly. She came from Bavaria. Mom said she used to hunt wolves.”

No, he thought, not wolves. Werewolves. Hoover knew a hunter’s outfit when he saw one. And he’d seen plenty, growing up.

“I thought maybe,” Judy said, “we could get you a fur loincloth and a fake sword. No, wait, I know! A cape and a hammer. You’ve already got the hair. Thor and Sif. What do you say?”

Hoover’s hand dug into the sofa cushion. A vintage shifter-slayer’s armor, passed down from mother to daughter. Any thought of confessing his true identity went on immediate hold. Somehow he managed a smile. “Let me think about it.”

Phots from WRW Readers and Bloggers Luncheon 10/10/15

Top photo I’m sitting at 3rd table back. long sleeves and v neck.  We had quite a few people show up.  Was great seeing people who I met last year and enjoyed reading my books.  The next photo is of the baskets authors and blog groups donated to the raffle.  The Shapeshifter Sedcutions (My blog group) is behind the pink box one.  MK Meredith’s selfie caught me in the background talking with some of the early arriving readers.  Thank you MK Meredith  and WRW for posting these to Twitter.








 


Happy Weekend Gang!
Sorry no flash piece this week.  Vacation called for another story to get further along.  DP celebrated his birthday this week too.  Time together is good.   The Spice Homestead is working on getting back on balance with the changes in weather and another year older.  Keep sharing a good book or two with your spice and loves.  I know I am!

Until Next Week,

Solara

Toasted Wolf Snack

Erol was mildly amused by the growled threats coming his way from atop the hill.  Two adult wolves threatening to do what, gouge out his eyes or claw away at his tough dragon skin?  Please, all he had to do was douse them with his dragon fire and he’d have a toasted wolf snack.

Lightening sharp pain made its way from a back tooth, up through an eyeball and down his right arm.  Erol held tight to the fire that wanted to erupt from the back of his throat and laid his head on the top of the gorge, between the angry wolves.  He opened his mouth wide and allowed an extremely pissed off Greely to jump out.

“I can’t believe you did that, you wide-nostril’ed, son of a fireless reptile!”

“Whoa” “Go Miss Greely,” the dynamite duo whispered between themselves even as his Fair One continued to berate him.

“We have talked about this, Erol, the only time you put me in your mouth is when I am a frog and we have to go under water…”

“What about during love-making, Fair One?”

“Erol!”

“Yeah!” “Right on”

“Not in front of innocent ears.”

“Innocent?” “Does she mean us?” Thor and Loki looked at each other.

“Now, times wasting, Erol.  Ziva looks quite hurt and there is no way she can make it up the side and into town on her own steam, but you can.  Be a good neighbor and take both she and Nick to see Dr. Leo.” 

“Damn, too bad Z is unconscious, she’s gonna miss Dr. Dom working her over, or working over her.”

“Reetha! Now’s not the time.”

“I’m just saying…”

Erol swung his head between the now naked, bickering siblings.  “Great, more nudity.  Greely, shift and get back into my mouth.”

“No!  Get going, I’ll be waiting here when you return.”

Erol raised his head, knowing the flames were rising inside and not wanting to risk hurting his mate.

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Reetha said, sashaying closer to Greely. “We won’t eat her.”

“Yeah, frogs and canines don’t really mix, right boys…” Mooney joked.

“Yes, dad.” “Right-o, pop’s”

“We might, however, get her out of there spit soaked clothes.”  Reetha teased.

“Fair One…” Erol warned.

“Go on, I’ll be fine.”

Erol gently lifted both Ziva and Nick into his claws and started to take flight.  Half way up he heard Greely exclaim, “When in Rome.”

Planning to make this the fastest trip ever, Erol took off towards Talbot’s Peak. He released fire along the way to bleed off the tension currently wracking his body at the thought of anyone seeing his mate naked.  Who knows, he may get that toasted wolf snack after all.
~~~

Somehow, Greely and Erol have taken over my tale.  Go figure.

Have a wonderful weekend, y'all!

Serena

Gloria's story

Gloria Goslin
Creative Writting 101
Chapter 1

"That's pronounced now, not no."

"I, um, I'm not sure--"

"That wasn't a request for input," Mr. Bigalow, Tammy's new boss, said snidely. "That was an instruction."

"But, you asked me if I would begin the eviction process on unit number 7-304. We have the rent check for that unit." She looked at the list of apartments that were past due. "It was due yesterday by close of business and the check was in the night drop box, so, no, I wouldn't."

"It was received after the close of business and it is a personal check," Mr. Bigalow pontificated. "A personal check is not money until it clears the bank, so no, the rent is not paid for that unit."

Tammy swallowed the smart ass comeback that almost jumped off her tongue. She took a moment to find a way to phrase her reply in a way that wouldn't get her fired before her first month of employment with Northern Property Management was over. "By law, we can't begin eviction until the grace period written into our rental agreements has expired," she squeezed out after a long moment.

"You're new to this position, so I will let this little rebellion slide. Assuming you do as you are told." He looked her over with a good dose of derision coloring his usual creepy leer. "For your edification, that woman in 7-304 likes to write hot checks. By the time her bank sends our bank the denial of funds, it will be past the three day mark."

There wasn't a polite way to say what she wanted after that remark. She focused on keeping her mouth and temper in check as she watch Mr. Bigalow make his way down the line of cubicles, probably to find someone else to terrorize with slightly illegal "instructions."

She had a master's degree in business and ten years of experience in property management, most of it with her family's business in Dallas. She'd seen enough underhanded business practices to make her stick straight black hair curl. The property management industry was rife with corruption and questionable business practices. Six months ago, her uncle, who was the CEO of the family business, had instituted a policy that virtually guaranteed that none of their tenants would ever be able to get their damage deposits back.

**********

"Miss Goslin, this is horrible drivel." Gloria gulped at the vulcan eyebrow thing going on with her proffessor's face.

"But you haven't even gootn past the first page," she gulped.

"I do not need to," he replied ominously. "I have been teaching this course for more than twenty years. I have read many, many manuscripts in many, many genres. Go back and re-read the guidline I gave you, and then revise this drivel."

Gloria slumped as she took her paper back. Rewrite it in what way? It's not like "this is drivel" constituted actual critique. What she really needed was a teacher, not an asshole professor. A teacher like... Lamar?