Monday, August 31, 2015

Hold That Pose

Alessandra Moore sipped her drink and let her gaze wander over the other diners in the Rocky Top Motel’s restaurant. She tried to look with her casual, I’m-not-working-right-now eye, but her professional, let’s-see-what-we’ve-got-here eye kept getting in the way. That tended to happen whenever Less found herself between jobs. Like now.

Overall, the pickings here were slim. Well, she should have expected that from a motel restaurant off an interstate exit in rural Montana. Transients, truckers, businessmen on their way to one coast or the other and families on vacation weren’t going to yield many possibilities. As for the locals, forget it. They were attractive enough, in a rugged, animalistic sort of way, but the cowboy look was over and had been even before she left Chicago. If she was going to wow ‘em in LA, it wouldn’t be with anyone she found in this backwater cowtown.

Maybe after dinner she’d cruise some of the bars and clubs that dotted the exit strip. Those people were younger and dressed better, and would happily pose for a couple of bucks. All she needed was a few shots to freshen her portfolio and she’d be back in business.

No way she’d ever go back to secretarial work. She’d die first.

A bored woman wearing makeup that was all wrong for her features served Less her salad and steak. Less dug in with a purpose. She was in cattle country; might as well splurge. If Los Angeles proved as tough a town as she’d heard, it could be a while before she ate this well again.

Then she spotted him. The rose in the dungheap, the diamond in the rough. The young man in the waiter’s uniform, delivering a platter of sausage gravy and biscuits to the hulk in the John Deere cap two tables over. How the hell had she missed him? He must have just started his shift.

Her photographer’s eye took over. He was clearly tall enough, and then some. It was all in the legs. Hard to tell their shape in waiter’s pants, but their length was impressive. Ditto for the neck. That was truly an elegant neck, the kind women who yearned to look aristocratic would kill for. You could hang anything on a neck like that—collars, chokers, chains. A neck like that should be all wrong on a man, but somehow he made it look natural.

The rest of his features fell into place: dark, flawless skin, hair cropped into short, black bristles, mobile lips, the sought-after cheekbones to die for. With the proper lighting, the right angles—

Then he moved. Oh, fudge. He had the legs, but not the walk. His body moved in an ungainly bob brought on by a too-wide stride. No runway work for this one if he couldn’t get that walk fixed. But the rest of him? Spot on.

Young, fresh, unique. Something even LA fashion had never seen before. Less’s hopes to hit town with a bang burst to life again.

Just as quickly, panic seized her. How old was this kid? As desperate for work as Less might be, she drew a hard line at photographing children, even with their parents’ permission. If this kid wasn’t legal, she was doomed.

For the next twenty minutes she picked at her food while she studied the waiter, looking for flaws. There had to be flaws. She couldn’t be so lucky, not in a place like this. But other than that walk, he seemed exactly what she was looking for. What she needed to give her an edge. Even the walk turned out not to be so bad. When he wasn’t hurrying, the bob took on a rhythm that had an odd grace all its own. Maybe still not runway-worthy, but it wouldn’t stop him from getting work.

Please, please, please be legal age.

Less barely noticed when her waitress brought the check. She slapped a generous tip on the table, paid for her meal, and went in search of the waiter. Finally she spotted him, on his way to the register. She thrust herself into his path.

Holy crap. Up close, tall didn’t even start to cover it. Try towering. She might have felt intimidated if not for his eyes. They were as dark and deep as chocolate syrup. For a moment she wished she was ice cream. Then his lashes distracted her. Like his neck, they should have been too long for a man, but on him they worked perfectly.

“’Scuze me,” he mumbled, and tried to duck around her.

“Just one minute. Please.” Less dug franticlaly in her purse for a business card. She pressed it into his hand. “Have you ever thought about modeling?”

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Overtime Wins The Weekly Wrestling Match Again

Hi Gang!  Ned and the boys decided to take another week off.  Sorry, you aren't getting the next parts of the serial this week.  I wanted to write a short post about Gil and Chloe taking off for the mountains. Instead, I'm dealing with sore neck and shoulders from working 50 hour week at day job.  I'm on the mend.  I've got stuff to do also around the Spice Homestead so chores and family time top the list again.

The link below is to a accapella group called Face Vocal Band.  The video is shot with their families as  part of the video.  It's lovely.  I hope it enjoy this as part of your Saturday afternoon relaxation time.

Until Next Week,


Friday, August 28, 2015

The Fall

Ziva marveled at how good the boys had gotten at hunting.  Mooney must be glowing with their abilities.  As she moved around the other side of the young deer the boy’s had picked out, in order to keep it from escaping, her mind wasn’t on her surroundings.  Nope, she was picturing herself and Nick teaching River and Cooper to hunt.

And those moments of happiness caused her to misstep.  Her misstep sent her rear left paw to step out into nothingness, which caused her right to follow and quickly she was scrabbling to pull herself back to the top of the rocky ledge of dirt. 

No such luck.

Height wasn’t a factor in her fall, she wasn’t high enough to kill herself, but the steep hill, or gorge, was ragged, jagged and painful—road rash going down rather than across.  Her paws tore, blood oozed and her entire underbelly burned.  Soon enough, her back joined in the pain-fest as she rolled and continued down on her back.

A jarring thud announced her arrival at the bottom of the gorge.  It took long minutes before her stolen breath returned and the world stopped spinning.  Ziva took inventory of her wounds, noting all of the big pains and the small ones.  Nothing felt broken, miraculously enough, but everything was torn.  She should really shift, but there was no way she’d make it back up the hill and with her human voice she had less chance of calling out to Nick. 

Ziva howled, deep and long.  Gut wrenching.  If ever she needed to be rescued, it was now.

Just a short one from me today as I too am dealing with my own unhappy hands.  Per the therapist, I would greatly benefit from message.  :)  I ran right home to tell alpha hubs and got the know the one, raised eyebrow and all, but I gave as  well as I's how the convo went...

Me: She said my arms and shoulders are too tight and that I should consider some massage.

Alpha Hubs: ~the eye~ Ah huh.  Aren't they doing that there?

Me: Only to my forearms, but they said extra massage would help.

Alpha Hubs: Sure they did...

Me:  They did.  So I'm going to call that place out on 65...

Alpha Hubs: The expensive one?

Me: I've heard good things about that place...or, you know, you could do it?

Alpha Hubs: ~smoldering look~ You know where that would lead.

Me: Yeah, me going to the only place I'll get the happy ending I want. ~wink~

LOL...I do love being married to my best friend, he still makes me smile.

Have a great, massage-filled, weekend!


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

One Shade of Silver Wolf

End of August howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I've started what I hope will turn out to be a new series of flash scenes. We'll see, given my *who knows what obstacles are next?* life.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Because I'm pressed for time, I'm not even going to do a read over as I usually do, so please excuse any glaring mistakes.


One Shade of Silver Wolf

She'd known he could never love her. Not as she desired. Truth: she'd been seduced by his scholarly knowledge, by his extraordinary super intellect. Yeah, Einstein meets Carl Sagan, mix brains and stir. Then stand back in pure awe. That was Professor Edward Kingston.

During their two-year relationship, he'd treated her more than decently, and loved her in what he considered to be the proper manner. But at a deep emotional level the about-to-be chancellor, Professor Kingston, was bankrupt — as bankrupt as The Donald Trump had been four times in his entrepreneurial, meteoric rise to reality-show stardom.

Oh, she'd told herself Professor Ed would come to love her with a passion unparalleled. What a big fat lie.

The infamous rose-colored glasses, her fierce passion to learn... but yeah, her ego weakness for greater knowledge — the opportunity to live in a high-intellect realm, and constantly utilize her mind, to keep learning — she'd let herself be seriously led astray.  As far as the deepest longings of her heart.

She let a sigh escape, one that blew strands of her coppery, always fly-away hair. As she moved down the hallway toward the stairs that led to Edward's tome-filled office, her gut churned, as if creepy crawlies hatched out.

Damn. She didn't want to do this. But there was a thing about being true to yourself. And it was time. Likely past time to say goodbye in a grownup, responsible manner.

To her best knowledge, Edward had even remained faithful, a mountain-tall plus for his overall stalwart character, given it was rarity in this ivory-tower campus culture. After all, affairs were de rigeur, and a way to climb the ambition-ladder for some.

She'd remained faithful as well, never stepping out on him. Not once. Oh, she'd flirted with the bevy of hunk temptations on campus. Those who put the one-night moves on her, and those with cheesy lines spoken in the throes of hyper-hormone activity.

Intentionally, she trotted up the stairway to keep herself moving. Not allowing herself to think, to entertain any thought about changing her mind, she lightly rapped on the heavy, late 1800's door. 

"Kailla, come in. You're not disturbing me." Edward's deep resonant voice somehow soothed her. At the same time, anxiety tumbled willy-nilly through her middle.

"Edward," Kailla closed the door behind her, a whisper of sound over the thick expensive carpet. "I'm on my way. All packed up."

He rose from his leather desk chair, a tall distinguished man with cognac-brown eyes — deep-set eyes that held a universe of scholarly knowledge. Edward's passion for research and learning had proven to be endless, and dominated their life together. .

As she'd come to understand after days of soul-searching, he was married to the exploration, to the mission of being educated, and educating others. Kailla respected his passion. It simply wasn't her all-consuming passion.

Edward approached her, a gentle caring smile on his nobly constructed face. "Have a good time on your vacation, darling." He lifted her hands, enfolding them within his.

"Edward..." Kailla drew in what felt like a whirlwind of breath. "I'm saying goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Puzzlement colored his eyes.

"This isn't easy." Kailla raked her hand through her disobedient hair. "I'm leaving. I won't be coming back."

Shock hit his features. He turned and perched on the edge of his desk, his posture like a puppet held up with wires.

"I've given this a lot of thought..." Kailla swallowed back the lump about to choke her. "With you about to become chancellor... well, being with me won't help you. You know that," she emphasized when he was about to object.

"Face it, Edward. I'm a liability to all you hold dear." Kailla ignored the dizziness threatening to drop her to the floor, and softly continued, "I'm the leopardess who can't change her spots enough to fit in that rarified, ivory tower realm."

"It's what I love about you most, Kailla."

Unable to stand the appeal in his eyes to stay... to come back to him in two-weeks time, Kailla turned away.

"You can't be entirely tamed," he added after a pregnant pause. "If you change your mind," he began, ever the gentleman.

"You know, Beverly has been in love with you since she began teaching here. She'd be perfect as a chancellor's wife. You can't have missed how she dotes on you, especially when I'm not around."

"No." Raw pain owned his voice. "I haven't missed her overtures. Be well, Kailla."

"Be well, Edward." She jerked open the door, and stepped outside. Tears welled up, and she clung to the stair railing as the salty wetness slid down her cheeks.


Thundercloud, silver wolf shifter, and second clan brother in his familial pack, loped toward the highway. His nose led the way.

Out for a long, muscle-stretching run through the fields and forests of Talbot's Peak territory, he'd suddenly scented a delicious female fragrance. One that salivated his jowls, and caused his loins to ignite with savage need.

So what if she was human. Mostly human, anyway. Like as not, she didn't know her full genetic heritage.

Thundercloud's primal instincts ruled as he sprinted alongside the highway, searching for the vehicle he knew she drove. Somehow he had to find the woman, follow her. Claim her.


Weary from traveling, and ready to lose herself to a long nap once she reached the Talbot's Peak Inn, Kailla concentrated on the few miles left before she reached her destination.

Checking her side mirror, she glanced longer this time. Her adrenaline jumped and kept pumping. Was that a wolf, a real live wolf racing toward her?

Slowing so she wouldn't wreck, Kailla pulled off to the side, yet kept her minivan slowly moving. Transfixed, she watched the humongous wolf charge straight at her. The late summer sun caused his coat to appear silvery, as if each dark hair had been tipped with a drop of silver.


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, August 24, 2015

Cake Boss

Salome stopped herself just in time. One word, one wrong sound at the wrong moment, and Telly’s steady hands might jiggle and there would go hours of work. She held herself still as a rock in the kitchen doorway, scarcely daring to breathe.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” her husband said without turning around. “I know you’re there. I’m good.”

She let her breath out, relieved. “I’ll wait here. Just to be safe.”

“No need. It’s done.” He stepped aside. “You like?”

Salome caught her breath again, this time over the icing artistry he’d just applied to the cake. Delicate pink and blue flowers. Winged candy ponies. The entire two-tiered confection had been sculpted into the shape of a Medieval castle in white cake and vanilla icing. Little flags with 8s on them flew from the turrets.

The Princess stood on the battlements, a candy Katniss with a tiny bow. A pack of sugar wolves stood at her back. “I don’t remember wolves from The Hunger Games,” Salome said.

“The definition of ‘princess’ has been changing, Disney notwithstanding,” Telly said. “The ponies will probably go first. I’m just relieved her family didn’t insist I put meat in the recipe. Baking for carnivores is a tricky game.”

“They do like their sweets, though. Bet they’ll have barbecue at the birthday party. Now guess what we’ve got.” She fluttered a paper in front of his nose.

His stare fastened on it. “It’s ours?”

“It will be once we sign it. Our own shop at last, with a real kitchen for us to work in. Actual ovens. No more pizza dinners because the stove’s in use.” She hugged her husband tight. “All ours.”

Telly maneuvered her into the living room, away from the cake and its delicate turrets, so he could swing her around. “It’s all been worth it, m’love. We’re a real bakery at last.” He stopped in mid-swing. “Got a name yet?”

“Still working on it. Oh, and I have another special request.”

“Good thing the cake’s done, then. What’s this one?”

Salome bit her pink lower lip. “Um, a dungeon?”

“Say again?”

“I ran into Harriet at the real estate office. A friend of hers plays a slave at the Pleasure Club. The girls want to get her a cake dungeon. Don’t give me that look. It’s not the first time we’ve been asked to bake something risqué.”

“Just running through the possibilities. I suppose it’ll have to be something spicy. No vanilla.”

Salome giggled. “Doughnut collars?”

“And licorice whips.” Telly grinned, getting into it. “Gingerbread men on their knees. We’ve done that already. A dark chocolate Dom. Or is chocolate out? A lot of the canines can’t stomach it.”

“This will be mostly herbivores. The more fruits and veggies we put in, the happier they’ll be.” Salome’s lips curved. “Cherries, of course. And plenty of nuts.”

“Absolutely. How soon do they need it? We’ve got that cupcake order for Thursday, remember.”

“Saturday morning. The party’s in the afternoon.” Salome peered beyond his shoulder, with a sad little shake of her head. “There goes the kitchen again.”

“This could be the last time, though. Soon we’ll have a professional kitchen, and a house that doesn’t smell like peanut butter. You know,” he added, switching tracks, “we get a lot more orders for the kinky cakes than we do for the birthday variety.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“You bake enough cakes in the shape of a penis, you start to get the idea. Think we should specialize?”

“If you think it would help. We do need a gimmick to help us stand out. We won’t be the only bakery in Talbot’s Peak. With a specialty, we could market to some of the clubs by the exit. As long as you don’t mind, of course. You’re the one who does most of the sculpting.”

“I don’t want you baking dicks. Some of those requests we get give you funny ideas.”

“You loved the cotton candy bikini,” Salome reminded him. “We can still do regular cakes. See how the market goes.”

“I think we both know how the market’s going.” Telly glanced over his shoulder at the vanilla castle. “We get asked for eight-year-old princesses who lead wolf packs. These people aren’t into safe and sedate. If we can’t beat the competition in flavor, we’ll have to do it in shape.”

“I’m all in favor,” Salome agreed. “I know you love a challenge. And I love new ideas.”

“So do I, when I’m not too tired. Dirty cakes it is. Why, look, I’ve got some icing left. What do you think we should do with it?”

“I say it’s time to take a break. Want to lick my bowl?”

He took the deed to their new bakery from her and carefully laid it on a table. He swung her into his arms with only a little less care and headed for the bedroom. Salome snuggled happily into his arms. She knew in her heart Wicked Sweet was going to be a success.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Missed the Muse Train

hi gang. sorry that the serial post isnt up. pris and i worked hard on
another story this week along with working over time.  my day job
is changing our image and production style. i got caught up in meetings and
clases. evaluations compounded too. maybe tomorrow.


Tuesday, August 18, 2015

"Why the hell are the car doors open?"

End-of-summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

So, for now, here's the endpoint of Operation Crunch, my series of flash scenes around state agents attempting to intimidate Gil, the beloved mayor of Talbot's Peak.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to finish my ShapeShifter Seductions WIP, titled: Waiting For a Filly Girl. It's been hit and miss given the life obstacles going on. But I hope to have more writing time soon. Right now, I'm closing in on 40,000 words.


"Why the hell are the car doors open?"

At the first sight of their car -- which looked as though a gang of thugs had taken metal pipes to it in a fit of mindless savagery, then a flock of seagulls had flown over and unloaded -- Pete and John swerved toward the possible refuge offered by a couple of large cottonwood trees. Immediately, they were rushed by the *had-to-be* most humongous brown bear on Earth.

'What a trophy kill,' Pete thought, even in the midst of his adrenaline-fed panic. Even as he was forced to run like a madman back to their car by the snarl-growling bears surrounding him and John. In that instant, he knew without doubt, he would never ever go to Talbot's Peak again. Shit, no matter if his career took a serious dive.

"Why the hell are the car doors open?" John shouted raggedly. Was the guy's lungs about to fail him?

"Damn. Shit. It's running, the car," Pete panting-yelled moments later.

Figuring that was an invite to get the hell outta Dodge, Pete put his head down and charged like he'd done as a running back on the highschool football team.

"I'm driving," John wheezed. "You can't drive worth a crap."

"Drive, for gawd's sake." Keeping his legs churning, Pete glanced over his shoulder.

The bears appeared to be slowing their chase.

With his heart thumping like it was about to expire, Pete dived inside the car, and slammed the door shut. At least, it shut. When John bolted inside, and tried to close his door, it took three quick desperate attempts.

Like a race car driver down the final stretch, John gripped the steering wheel hard, then stomped on the accelerator. They shot forward, the car jumping on take off.

As they sped down the highway, with John doing a helluva a job staying on the asphalt, the only sound was their harsh rapid breaths bouncing off the interior of the car. Pete had never breathed this hard, not even during good, hot monkey sex.

Miles later, their breathing gradually normalized. Yet, neither one of them spoke.

"Never," John broke the silence, "Never gawddamn never will I ever set foot anywhere near that shit weird town. I don't care if they threaten to take my pension away. I don't care if I have to fucking resign."

"I'm with ya, bro. They'll likely fire us over this car. Fuck, how do we explain this?" Pete grabbed for the seatbelt as John sped around a curve way faster than the speed limit.

"Nothin'! To explain." John clipped his speech, his gaze religiously trained on the road. "They can grill us, hook us up to a lie detector, we don't know nothin'."

Pete didn't reply. Seemingly his brain remained undamaged, given the scenarios that played in his head. "Missing time," he finally blurted out. "You know like the bullshit all those UFO abductees are always spoutin'. We can say we were abducted, probed in the butt."

"Doesn't explain the car, you class A idiot." John spoke in a dismissive growl.

"Don't call me an idiot, you three-stooges numbskull. It was you who said we'd further our careers." Pete accusingly aimed his gaze. "*You* convinced me we'd get big fat bonuses for reeling in those local yokels. Remember, a-hole?"

John lessened their speed. "Don't want to get pulled over by the cops," he grouched.

"Yeah, what cop in his ever-loving, shit mind wouldn't pull over a 'beat to hell' car with bird shit covering it. You're dreamin'."

"At least, I won't be caught fucking speeding," John mumbled gruffly. He switched on the wipers again -- another try at getting rid of the smeared poop on the windshield.

"Hey, why don't we shove this wreck over a cliff...make up a story about being chased by drugged-up wackos?" Pete brightened inside at the idea.

"Cameras in the sky. Google Earth. Remember, punk?" John glanced at him sideways.

"You gotta point, old man. But I'm trying to think us outta this shit-steamy mess." 

"Yeah," John sardonically began, "why don't we just text the NSA and ask 'em what's on those satellite cameras? That'll get us outta this shit-steamy mess," he mocked.


"No, it won't," Blade Runner choked out, as he rolled on the floor of his 'UFO' laughing his furry bunny ass off. He'd made double-tech certain nothing had been captured by anyone's sky surveillance.

He wasn't laughing alone either. On another screen inside his craft, Dante and Kitty were holding onto each other inside her library office. Laughter poured out of them like the towering waterfalls on his homeworld.

On a third screen, the techie crew at the Pleasure Club, howled, roared, screeched, and cackled with laughter.

Yep, thank the rabbit messenger, underground Taltube viewers were in for a howling-yowling roller coaster ride of laughs. Later.

Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, August 17, 2015

The Fast and the Furious

It usually starts in a bar. Somebody has one drink too many, he makes a boast, somebody else calls him on it, and the next thing you know five shifters are lining up at the track behind the Talbot’s Peak High School. The patrons who had followed them from Rattigan’s took seats in the bleachers.

“Here’s how it’s going down,” Gil said. Inside, he was thinking, Figures. They always have to get rowdy while I’m behind the bar. As Mayor, Gil didn’t have to work at Rattigan’s any more. He did so because Louie was his friend. He wasn’t always so wild about the drinking crowd.

At least this particular bet could be easily settled without violence. “When I say go, you run around the track. The winner’s species gets declared fastest animal alive. Everybody good with that?”

“Why even bother?” Barry said. “Everybody knows the cheetah is the fastest beast on earth.”

“Yeah?” Jay the antelope smirked. “Then why is it you guys can’t catch us guys half the time?”

“We’re running on a track? No fair.” Pietro jabbed his finger at Wally and Bart. “The horse and the greyhound have the advantage.”

Bart smirked. “I thought bunnies always ran in circles.”

“Hare. It’s hare, you anorexic mutt!”

“Okay,” Gil said. “We’ll do it this way. Winner gets a free lunch buffet. Eddie eats the losers.”

“Fine. Wait, what?

“He’s joking,” Wally said. He looked uncertain. “Aren’tcha, Gil?”

Gil smiled thinly. “Depends on whether or not the whining stops.”

Wally, Pietro and Jay cast nervous glances toward the bleachers, where Eddie the Komodo dragon shifter lounged among the onlookers. Eddie grinned, flicked his tongue at them and waved.

“I’m good with a track,” Pietro said. The others nodded.

“All right, then,” Gil said, “if everyone’s ready … ”

“I will be,” Barry said, “just as soon as Santa’s Little Helper here quits sniffing my ass.”

Bart bristled. “Well, if you’d quit farting—”

“You know, Eddie eats predators. It’s all meat to him.” The words cut off in mid-snipe.

“Now then.” Gil stepped to the starting line. “You’re all sprinters, so one lap around the track should be enough. Agreed?”

Jay raised his hand. “How do we determine start positions?”

“Uh … do we have straws, or sticks, or—”

“I got some straw.” Wally dug into his pocket and came up with a handful. “What? I like to snack.”

“No more outside food in Rattigan’s. I don’t want to have to institute searches.”

Wally muttered, but handed over the straw. Gil selected five long stalks. He snapped off bits until he had different lengths. The contestants drew their lots. Wally neighed when he got the long straw. He popped it into his mouth.

“Can he do that?” Bart asked.

“You all can, once you know your positions.” Gil tried not to groan. Bart frowned at his stubby straw and passed it over to Wally. The others did the same.

The contestants shed their clothes and took their lanes: Thoroughbred, cheetah, greyhound, antelope, hare. “See you at the finish line,” Barry said.

Jay made a face at him. “Bite me.”

“Plan to.”

“Well, we know where you’re ending up,” Pietro sneered over at Bart. “Behind me. Just like in every dog race ever.”

“Hump my leg, bunny boy.”

“Assume your shapes,” Gil called out. The racers shifted. Five disparate animals glared at each other. “On your mark … get set … go!”

And they were off. Wally bolted into the lead, only to be passed by Barry. Barry held the lead all the way to the second turn, where his speed started to flag. Jay bounded past him. Bringing up the rear came Pietro, who had succumbed to instinct and was zigzagging all over the track, and Bart, who seemed to have forgotten about the race and instead pursued the hare. Up in the bleachers, Eddie watched these two especially. He leaned forward, licking his lips.

By the third turn, it looked like the race had come down to Jay and Wally. Jay might be inherently faster, but Wally was used to track racing and knew how to pace himself. Barry had dragged himself over to the side and lay in the grass, panting. Meanwhile, Pietro was cutting across the field with Bart right behind him. Gil clapped a hand to his forehead. Why didn’t I bring my gun?

Suddenly someone blew past him from out of the bleachers. The new racer blazed down the middle lane, kicking up a cloud of gravel and dust. He streaked around the turns and hit the home stretch at the same time as Wally and Jay. They might as well have been statues. The latecomer breezed by them and crossed the finish line in a flash of brown fur and a whiplike, hairless tail.

Gil couldn’t even make out his species until he finally slowed, out beyond the first turn. He got up on his hind legs and strolled back toward Gil with a huge, crap-eating grin on his pointy muzzle.

A mouse. A five-foot mouse.

By the time he returned to the finish line and shifted, Gil had guessed his identity. “Gonzalez?”

Hola. I wasn’t part of that crowd, so I didn’t hear about the race until late. Naturally I couldn’t let it pass.”

Gil lowered his voice. “It was supposed to be for Earth shifters. Blade Runner’s going to be ticked when he hears you’ve been violating the Prime Directive again.”

Gonzalez shrugged. “If it stops these yoyos from beating on each other, it’s all good, eh?”

“Can’t argue there.” Gil raised Gonzalez’s hand. “We have a winner.”

Naturally the others weren’t happy, but what could they do? The mouse had outrun them fair and square, and with a late start, yet. “Due to the circumstances,” Gil announced, “nobody’s getting eaten. Sorry, Eddie.” Eddie pouted, but took it in stride. “The next round’s on the house. Oh hell. Where are Pietro and Bart?”

Barry pointed to the other side of the track, and the frantic hare dodging the determined greyhound. Gil swore. “Somebody want to—”

“I’m on it.” Gonzalez took off like a shot.

Gil relaxed. Knowing a rat with connections, including otherworldly connections, sure did come in handy sometimes.

Special bonus trivia question: what’s the significance of the racers’ names? Hint: “Barry” and “Pietro” are the giveaways.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

A New Serial: Two Dragons for Lilly Chapter 1 Part 1

“Come on, Adam.  You can’t tell me you haven’t scoped out the lady down at the ice cream shop.”  Ned sat down across from his band mate Adam Sandstron.    “She’s as delicious looking as all the confections in her shop.”

Adam slumped down in his chair wanting to fold his arms tightly against him.  Ned and his matchmaking ideas!  All he had said was the woman got his gonads in an uproar now and then.  Now Ned had them double dating.  Flames and coals!  The woman might run the opposite direction when she heard two dragons had their eye on her. Humans had a habit of taking a long distance view of fire breathers and their lavascious natures.  From her fire red hair to the bottoms of her feet, Lilly oozed a sensual come-hither pheromone that had him harder than if he hadn’t jacked off the night before.  Putting out the embers, this one ignited would take more than fantasizing about her.  Ned needed to back off.  Matchmaking worked if both parties wanted it.  Three wanting it sweetened the desired out come even more.

“Ned Brimstone, you got your eye on her too!” Adam growled. Smoke curled out his mouth.  His eyes must have glowed as Ned grinned as he heartily nodded.

“Oh, yes.  Sweet, probably creamy when she comes, and delicious.  Maybe as delicious as her confections.  Wonder if she adds a touch of her sweetness to them.”  Ned’s grew as Adam sat upright in his chair.

“That isn’t allowed and you know it.  You and your food fetishes.  Purity of product is required.”  Before he could get out another word, Ned spoke.

“She doesn’t need be a virgin.  I like my partners knowing what pleasures them so I can get about it.  Doing it right from the start.”  Ned licked his lips twice. His grin grew to a smile.

Adam gripped the edge of the table.  He knew he couldn’t start the wrestling match both of them needed.  Living in Talbot’s Peak, their accepted existence had limits.  Keeping their fire breathing under extreme control and watching where and when they shifted.  Flames above and below!  And a woman that set him afire from his gonads and cock up to his mind.  His libido and horny id didn’t like taking no for an answer.  The days of pillage were gone, no more, and not to be had again.  Not that he liked unwilling, overly submissive couplings.  Sharing women with Ned took a certain finesse that both of them knew need care and tending.  Putting their fiery natures under strict control happened when a mate bonded with them.  Their last mate passed two centuries ago.  Human mates didn’t last long.  Love didn’t always let you make the decision.  Lust did.  Lust was going full throttle.  How much more could he withstand before he bellowed and let loose a flame that would singe his heart and soul?  Granddad said withstanding the heat of lust took a power that the heart could only let loose.  Lilly hadn’t talked to either of them.  Her scent kick started a part of him that he thought had long dried up and was dead.


Happy Weekend Gang!

So our new resident Dragon Shapeshifters are on the sexy prowl scoping out the available females: human and shapeshifter alike.

Let's see what happens as this story unfolds.   I hope to post 500-1000 word sections weekly until the story is done.  Who knows how long this will go on.

Until next week's smoking hot juicy section, share those books with your spice and loves.  I know my smoking hots one are.


Friday, August 14, 2015

How Those Rumors Get Started...

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, wait’in for a train…”

“Talbot’s Peak.”


Wilber looked to his friend, Beano, at the other end of the bench and wondered, once again, how they continued to travel together. “We’re in Talbot’s Peak, dude. Not Baton Rouge.”

“Okay, busted flat in Talbot’s Peak, wait’in for a train…

“A bus.”  Wilber sighed.

“What now, man.”

“This is a bus stop, dude, not a train de-pot.”

“Heh heh…you said pot, man.”

“Oops, I did.  Hey, you got any, Beano?”

“Nah…do you?”

“Gentlemen,” said a young man, both tall and skinny, with inexplicably gray hair. “May I ask what you’re doing here in Talbot’s Peak?”

“Whoa,” Wilber whispered, amazed by the speed of the guy who was now sitting between he and his friend.  “Where did you come from?”

“Who cares about that, Wilb,” Beano slurred.  “You got any?”

“Any what, Sir?”

“Dude, don’t ask…”

“You know, de-pot,” Beano asked.

“Nothing that would work on you humans,” Mr. Gray responded.

Concern now beat at the buzz Wilber had going, though it did nothing for what Beano was flying on considering his friends interest in the bunnies sitting in the grass across from them.  “Did you just say humans…”

“Hey, that bunny just pointed at me.  Now he’s laughing at me, Wilb.  That bunny is laughing at me!”

A high whine escaped Mr. Grey’s lips just like the sound Wilber’s childhood would make when he got excited.  What the heck was with this dude? 

“Hey Bean, we’ve been waiting at this bus stop a long time, let’s just start walking.”  Wilber stood, reached around the weird guy and grabbed his friend’s coat.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Grey spoke after Wilber and Beano had walked a few feet down the road
heading out of town.  “Can you tell me why you thought this was a bus stop?”

Wilber turned back and pointed to the sign of a dog with an X beneath it.  “That’s a greyhound, right.  So this must be a bus stop.”

“Ah, I understand.”

Mr. Grey stood, then dropped to all fours and became a dog.  Not just any dog though, he had all the curves and long legs of a racing dog, a greyhound like the signed showed.  With a quick look back at Wilber, the dog smiled and took off after a now panicked bunny.


“Yeah, Bean,”

“I think we’ve been smoking too much.”

“Yeah, or not enough.”

Beano nodded and started singing again. “He did the mash…”

“How about we double time it, Bean?”

“Good idea, Wilb, good idea.”

As quoted by Lee Hays…"I don’t know where the poop these ideas come from…"

And I totally agree with the awesome Hays!  Have a great weekend.


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Drev nuzzled the nape of her neck...

Lazy summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

I'm taking a break from my OPERATION CRUNCH series of flash scenes. Instead, here's an *, apologies for any less-than-good writing* part of a chapter from Waiting For a Filly Girl, Keina and Drev's erotic love story, and a ShapeShifter Presents WIP I've been working on. This scene takes place after a lusty encounter between my heroine and hero. Drev is determined to make love to his woman.

Tagline: Ex super-soldier boy meets winged filly girl. Will they live happily ever after? In Talbot's Peak territory anything is possible.


Chapter Thirty-five

Satiated, Keina basked in the feel of Drev holding her close, in the feel of his cock still buried deep inside her equess. Most of all, she luxuriated in their love for each other. 

"Thanksgiving," she murmured long moments later. "This is perfect. You make me so thankful." 

Drev nuzzled the nape of her neck, then her shoulder, sending wonderful shivers through her. "You know I want to make proper love to you." 


"Like this." Her stud man placed lazy kisses on the back of her shoulder. 

"Mmmm." Keina surrendered her back to him. "What you do to me." 

"And I like doing it." His words sounded like a sexy purr as they poured into her ear. 

Drev separated their bodies, pressing slow sumptuous kisses down her back. "You have the best lips," Keina moaned. "And the best hands," she praised several moments later when  he languidly stroked up and down her side. 

Between the sensual onslaught of his kisses and his *take your time* caresses, Keina sweltered, arousal seizing hold of her fast. 

"You're melting my bones, stud." 

In answer, Drev slid his hand beneath her breast, taking gentle possession. Her nipple pebbled against his palm, and the pleasure of it swamped Keina. 

As he planted a delectable kiss at the base of her spine, she whimpered. His tongue teased the sensitized spot, and a sizzly wave of heat spread over her pussy mound, then up her torso. 

Drev nuzzled her lower back, causing Keina to go limbless. He moved up her spine, touching kisses and sexily rubbing his nose. When he pressed a searing kiss between her shoulder blades, Keina surrendered to another surge of hot-sweet bliss. 

"Oooh, my stud man," she crooned, as his cock began hardening again. 

Passion ignited her blood, rousing Keina. She sensually stretched so his shaft slipped from her pussy. Feeling like a beautiful temptress, she rolled over, then linked her arms around his neck. "Drev." 

Tenderly, he threaded his fingers into her hair, and embraced her head between his palms. In slow-motion, their lips met in a kiss that deepened immediately. The impassioned press of their mouths consumed Keina, and flamed more liquid desire through every fiber of her.  

She tightened her hold on his neck as Drev covered her with his muscle-hunky body. Could anything feel any better than his weight flattening her breasts, pressing her deeper into the mattress. Goddess Equine, no.
Their continuing kiss intensified to a depth of desire Keina never dreamed existed. It was pure magic. 

Diving her fingers through Drev's gorgeous thick mane of hair, she fondled. Her stud man changed the tempo of their ongoing kiss. 

Not coming up for air—as their mouths moved and smoldered over each other—Drev cradled his long torch of a cock in the valley between her thighs. Keina trembled inside with the feel of his stud length, with the giddy anticipation of him taking her pussy again. 

She undulated her hips, then widened her thighs, so his cockhead pushed against her clit. 

"Whoa there, filly girl," Drev gently ordered. 

Unbidden, a song lyric sprang into her head. "Pull the reins in on me," Keina breathy sang. "Linda Ronstadt," she added. 

"Yeah, I remember...I'll be pulling the reins a lot." Drev stopped her words by placing a dominant yet tender kiss on the corner of her mouth. Then, he made love to with his lips, blanketing her face with kisses. 

"Oh, Drev," she sighed. 

Keina shivered with small rapid shudders, and moaned with pleasure as her stud man brushed more kisses over her cheeks. He teasingly nibbled her earlobe, then the tip of his tongue outlined the rim of her ear.

Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, August 10, 2015

Don't Believe Everything You Hear

The man in the gaudy unicorn pullover burst into Party Hearty and charged straight at Lois. She fought her instinctive impulse to duck behind the counter and gripped it with both hands instead. At least she had it between them. He stopped just short of slamming into it. Lois let her breath out, forcing calm. "Help you, sir?" she said.

"I need glitter."

Um, okay. "How much? Large or small flake? Any particular color?"

"Uh, small, I guess. They'd never believe large. Rainbow's good. Covers all the bases. How much, how much … " He swept his stare around the shop, at the shelves of party supplies. "What've you got?"

As long as he wasn't charging at her, he was probably safe. She edged out from behind the counter. "Let's see what we've got out. If it isn't enough, I'm sure there's more in stock."

Birthday party, she decided. For Daddy's little princess. A girl-child under the age of eight had to figure into this somehow. No grown man—no grown straight man—would be caught dead in public wearing a unicorn sweater otherwise. She swallowed a chuckle. The things a little girl could get an otherwise sane man to do.

She directed him to the girl half of the Birthday section, with its bows and stars and stickers and predominance of pastel colors. One entire shelf was devoted to the various incarnations of glitter. Lois's customer studied them, his frown growing. "How am I supposed to pull this off?" he muttered.

"We have glue," Lois said, with a wave of her hand at another section of shelf. "Or there are the spray cans."

"No glue," he said at once, with a shudder. "No way glue. I'll try the spray. Maybe I can blindfold her."

Now Lois frowned. This was getting kinky. Unless … of course. A game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, glittered up to appeal to a girl. He probably had a My Little Pony poster to stand in for the donkey. If he didn't, she could sell him one.

He chose a spray can of rainbow glitter, along with a jar as backup. They headed back to the counter. "Do you need anything else?" Lois asked. "Balloons? Paper plates? Hats, maybe? We have a large selection of tiaras."

Her customer stopped and stared at her. "What for? We're not going to the Pleasure Club. This is just a date."

"A—" Oh cripes, had she misjudged that one. Lois darted behind the counter. She hoped he wouldn't notice her blush. Unicorn sweater, spray-on glitter. Just ring up the purchase and don't say a word.

He leaned on the counter, grinning at her. "I'd love to know what you're thinking."

"It's not important, sir. Or my business."

"C'mon. I have to know what's got your face all red like that. If I'm responsible, I need to apologize."

"No, you don't. It's silly. I just assumed, you know, glitter, little girl, birthday party … "

"Ah." He nodded. "You have a little girl?"

"She's six."

He sighed. "They're so cute when they're little. Then they hit the teens and it all goes to hell. Says the childless single guy." He shook the can. "This'll stick to anything?"

"It should, sir."

"Even liquids?"

She slanted a look at him. "I guess it would depend on the viscosity." Then it hit her. Dates … liquids. Unicorn sweaters. "You weren't thinking of … "

"We have a reputation to uphold. Magic. Crap like that."


He tapped the brightly-colored image on his sweater. Her eyes widened.

"This is Talbot's Peak," he reminded her.

"I know," she said. "I'm human, not stupid."

"Obviously not. You probably know what they say about unicorns."

"That you're horny?"

"That part's true. The bit about farting rainbows? Not true. Neither is the part about our jizz." He rattled the can. "That's why the spray-on assistance. Assuming I can figure out how to slip it past her."

"Or you could just tell her the truth."

"But it's expected. We're rare and magical and our gunk comes out sparkly. If it doesn't, she'll be disappointed, and there goes any chance of a second date." He eyed the can glumly. "Hell, even fairies don't have glittery jizz. I don't know how these rumors get started."

"No, I think it's the pixies that—oh, never mind. Here's what you do," she told him. "That jar you have? Sprinkle some into a condom. Then make sure it breaks so she can see. And it will break. I know for a fact stallions have that problem."

"Ain't that the truth." He looked at Lois with growing awe. "You do know a lot."

"I said I was human. Emmy's father wasn't. Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, this'll do it. I'll have to stop at the drugstore for the rest." He dug out his wallet. "I'm Hugh. You're … ?"


"Your daughter have a birthday coming up? Because I know where you can get a real live unicorn to give pony rides." He winked at her. "He might even have a sparkly coat."

"A sparkly horn will be enough. It's easier to clean off afterwards." Lois rang up his purchase, slipped it into a bag and handed it to him. "Her birthday's in September. Have fun on your date."

"Yeah. Uh … if you're not busy Thursday … "

"You are a horny bunch, aren't you? You realize I'm not a vir—"

"So what? That's another myth. Why should we care if the filly's been ridden or not? Thursday okay, then?"

"Lunch Thursday," Lois said. "And you won't need the glitter."

He snorted in relief. "I need to buy party supplies more often. See you Thursday." He waved as he sauntered out.

Lois waved back. "Thank you, sir. Please come again."

Saturday, August 8, 2015



Cleaning waits for no one.  That's right, cleaning.  I've got to get my house cleaned so the dust and clutter doesn't take over again. With the outdoors full of pollen and it coming inside, sneeze city has hit the Spice Homestead.  So I offer for you a couple of excerpts from my Cascade Bay series. Covers included with a buy link through Amazon for Kindle or Paperback.  Now I'm off to wrangle a few more dust bunnies and pollen monsters into the corral.



“Torrey, I’ll admit I’m anxious. I don’t think you want me to say out loud what I am uneasy about.” Holt pulled out the chair closest to her and sat down. Stuart rounded the table and sat next to Joanna.
“You’ve gained more manners, I see.” Torrey’s flushed cheeks told him she’d rather not continue in the direction his thoughts were running.
“Always had them. You just never saw them enough to realize how polite and courteous I am.” Holt reached across Torrey, snagging a handful of oyster crackers. He tossed several into his mouth.
“I didn’t know you hadn’t eaten,” Stuart offered, nudging Joanna. “We got here earlier, figuring we’d meet you for dinner.”
“Depends on what you call eating and dinner.” Joanna’s emphasis on eating and dinner left little to any of their imaginations as she continued. “Don’t know about you and Torrey, Holt. I know who Stuart is eating for dessert, or his second course.”
“Water,” Holt coughed. Blast Joanna and her punning sense of humor. The cheesy grin she wore set ripples off in more places than Holt liked.
Torrey slid her glass of water in front of him. “Crackers a bit salty?” Her arched eyebrow and rolled eyes didn’t help.
Holt gulped water, swallowing. He reached for a napkin. If his eyes kept watering, he’d have to leave for fear of losing a contact. Dabbing his eyes, Holt kicked Stuart under the table.
Stuart startled. Sitting upright, he glared at Holt. “What the hell was that for?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know.” Holt hoped he plastered the best innocent grin he knew how to fake across his face. “Now that I have your attention, though, we could use a couple of fresh drinks. How about I buy and you get them?”
Holt tossed a twenty on the table. If Stuart didn’t pick up on the non-verbal signals, he deserved another kick, a well-placed kick in the seat of Stuart’s jeans if Holt could reach them.
Joanna claimed the twenty and rose. “Come on, Stuart. We’ll get the drinks. Torrey needs a fresh one. I know I do.”

* * * *

Torrey glanced over her shoulder as Stuart and Joanna threaded their way through the crowd toward the bar. She turned back, facing Holt. “Why are you here?”
She kept her hands below the table. Clenching and unclenching her hands did nothing to relieve the new flutters her stomach did each time Holt’s gaze ran over her. The heat rolled off him in huge waves, threatening to overwhelm her if she didn’t keep her icy shield in place. Problem was her hormones had different ideas. The man knew how to read her. He’d learned how to turn her on and keep the heat going. Chemistry didn’t need a catalyst with him.
“I’d ask you the same thing. Except I probably know why you’re here.” Holt laid his arm on the table and leaned forward. “Things didn’t work out, did they?”
Torrey scooted her chair further away. Even a bit of space might allow some air in to help cool down the blasts boiling up between them. “I’m here because I want to be. What do you mean it didn’t work out?”
Holt toyed with his napkin before his gaze met hers. She swallowed hard. His eyes smoldered like they had when she’d cried out his name as multiple orgasms claimed her. He wanted her just as he had then. She couldn’t deny her attraction either. This time she wasn’t going to jump in bed with him. Acting upon lust worked great if all she desired was another fling. Those were easy and came with a premium she wasn’t buying. Short and intense brought a slack in need but no long-term emotional connection to complement the physical satisfaction.
“If things had worked out, would you be here?” Torrey cringed at Holt’s emphasis on the word had. Damn, could he read her that easily? How much did he know?
“What if it hadn’t? I remember you saying that no woman would tie you down. You wanted to be free to pursue what came your way. You said I could do the same.” Torrey paused. Rubbing her lips together, she watched the glint in Holt’s eyes dim. She gripped her hands together under the table. Apologizing would only tell him what he said was true. Before he’d started dating another woman, he’d come close to taking a good chunk of her heart and sanity. Rumors flew hot and heavy concerning his involvement with the other woman. He’d never denied the juicy tales nor did he answer her e-mails and calls asking for clarification. What right did he think he had to sit here and challenge her?
Holt leaned closer. His hand reached for her. “Torrey, I know I said some dumb things in the past. And that line was the lamest. Truth is, two years ago I lived in the heat of the moment. The flash of passion ruled my libido.”

Tina couldn’t resist either’s infectious smile and wit. Neither one acted as though they had a vain bone in them. Each spoke with confidence and appeared at ease with themselves as well as the night’s festivities. Tina wondered about their and Rodger’s friendship. Prior idle chatter about themselves revealed some of how connected they were. Before she let her guard down any more, Tina wanted to know if anyone else was keeping score for the dragoness and the old bat.
“Aunt Helen? I didn’t know any of Rodger’s other groomsmen were related to him.” Tina picked up her roll and tore a piece off. As she popped the piece into her mouth, Drake angled his chair toward her. He pushed his plates away from him.
“Only one of Rodger’s attendants is a blood relative. His choices caused a nasty battle between his mother, grandmother, and him.” Drake leaned back in his chair, picked up his wine glass, and drank. “Jon and I are the closest to family he allowed otherwise. The rest are old friends.”
Drake paused in his conversation as servers reached between them to clear plates. Coffee cups and saucers appeared next with silver coffee pots. Cream pitchers and sugar bowls came next. Each table received a duplicate set up.
Tina held on to her seltzer drink until the table was cleared and the servers moved on. Setting her glass down, she glanced at Jon. “Care to elaborate on Drake’s reply?”
Jon copied Drake’s action, angling his chair so he faced her as well. He sipped his wine twice before he answered.
“Neither Drake nor I are related to Rodger. We’re high school friends who attended the same college. My family lives four hours away. Drake’s in another state.” Jon sat his glass down. “We figure we spent enough time here as cousins would, so Mrs. Daniels became Aunt Helen. The mother hen neither of us wanted or needed.”
Tina quickly sat her glass down, swallowing to keep from spitting her mouthful all over her. Jon’s description of the head dragoness couldn’t be more spot-on. She wondered if Rodger knew what astute friends he had. Tina smiled as she turned her coffee cup over. She reached for the pot close to her.
Drake stayed her hand. “That’s decaf. Is that what you want?” He pointed to another pot close to Jon’s elbow. “That’s the real stuff. Both are vile to me. I asked for tea.”
Tina slid her hand down Drake’s arm until her hand covered what she could of his. She heard movement from Jon’s side. Lord, were the two trying to outdo each other? Tina lowered her lashes and tried to sneak a sideways look to see what Jon was up to.
Warm breath caressed her ear and neck as Jon spoke. “Maybe a cup of half each is what you prefer. Which one gets the bottom and which one gets the top?”
Tina gulped, unable to get her tongue to move as images of Drake and Jon sandwiching her between them flickered to life and dimmed as rapidly as they formed. She blinked, hoping to catch the last one for later on as she drifted asleep, sated from breaking in her new vibrator. At least her dreams wouldn’t be so cold and lonely.
Before Tina could reply, a throat cleared in front of them. Tina looked up. Merde! The old bat stood there glaring at them. Tina swore Mrs. Addams’s eyes moved over Drake and Jon as though she was sizing up how to skin them and offer them up as steak tartar for the evening snack post cake-and-coffee course.
Drake entwined his fingers with Tina’s. He smiled, placed his napkin on the table, and leaned forward. “Yes, Grandmother Addams.”
Jon laid his napkin on the table and stood. “Do you need help Ma’am?”
Tina bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from chortling. Mrs. Addams nodded, pointed to both Jon and Drake, and walked off. There was a tinge to the old woman’s cheeks that suggested embarrassment or her own memories had ignited a fire that the old bat wasn’t sure how to quell.
Drake raised Tina’s hand to his lips. He slowly worked his fingers free from hers. As his gaze locked with hers, he dragged his fingertips across her palm, scratching lightly as he moved toward her wrist.
Tina clenched her legs and ass as Jon matched Drake’s moves except his fingers trailed down her arm, lingering in the fold her elbow made as she tried to raise her arm. Goose bumps rose from the top of her shoulders, down her arms, and across her chest until they reached her breasts, tightening around her already aching nipples. A deep breathe wouldn’t help. The bra she wore chafed her tingling skin with every breath she took.
How much more she could withstand and not be obvious, she wasn’t sure. As Drake rose, Tina looked around him. Janet and Rodger were nowhere in sight. As she looked around the room, breathing as deeply as she could, Tina caught the two pairs of eyes glaring at her, Mrs. Daniels and her daughter. Crap! Double crap! The old bat must have spilled what she thought she saw.