August 31

Stress Balls – Chapter 11


The half naked woman who loved the site of Stain chowing down on his own, followed him over to the massive cannon joint and huffed on it at the same time as him. The sides of their lips touched while they inhaled together. She took one extra hit then grabbed his face, pressed her lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. She began moving her tongue around in their too, but Stain just looked like he was waiting for her to stop. Things finally turned around for the beautiful, slender brunette when she reached down and started to gently roll Stain’s mayo makers as if they were stress balls in her fingers. She covers his eyes and whispers in his ear. “Call me Lily.”

“No. I can’t do that.”

She slaps his face. “Call me Lily.”

I grab the girls hand. “Listen, Not Lily. Stain here is madly in love with a girl he doesn’t really know. While I would like to see him butter your biscuits, if he really loves this other girl, he needs an unobstructed path that doesn’t include your sweet candy.”

Stain nods at me. “Thanks man. That means a lot.”

Not Lily looks angry. “What kind of fucking bullshit is that? Are either one of you two homos going to fuck me?”

Stain laughs. “Not it.”

Not Lily is fuming mad. “Thanks lover boy. What about you? The tall faggot.” She points at me.

“What about me?”

“You going to man up, or are you in love too like your homo friend?”

I look at Not Lily and smile. I go behind her, lock my hand with her’s, finger after finger. I reach our hands down the front of her pants and begin playing with her well carpeted basement. She starts moaning then I put my lips to her ear. “You know what? I’m never second choice.”

Stain laughs. We walk away together, and Not Lily lets out a huge breath. “Faggots.”

The other two topless ladies stop to talk to us, and as lovely as they look, I see a long wavy haired girl, sitting alone down by the rocks. She’s not sad or sulking. She’s pensive. Something draws me to her. I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before.

August 30

Share the Love – Chapter 10


We’re running. I’ve sped up and Stain has slowed down. We’re sober. The pathway starts moving closer to the river, through the trees, and away from the road. This is good for us, no cops.

We slow down to a walking pace. Just up ahead, we see inukshuks built up using river rocks. The water flows gently between stoney legs. People are singing, dancing, and playing guitars.

“Stain, do you smell that?’

“Yeah, it smells like Blueberries?”

“No man. It smells like weed.”

“Oh yeah, yes, yes yes.”

“Stain, what Man?”

“Blueberry weed.”

We walk towards the beautiful aroma to find around 30 folks, all partying, having fun, and passing a joint that was made by stuffing an empty paper towel roll with good ole Mary Jane.

Stain says nothing. That’s Stain sober.

I’ll give it a go. I walk up to a shirtless guy who is wearing a bandana on his head, so I figure he won’t judge me, even though I obviously just judged him. I’ll even try to speak his lingo. “Hey man, I hope I’m not harshing your buzz or crashing your party or whatever, man. We’re just like heading downtown, and we saw you guys and wanted to say hi.”

Shirtless guy, with eyes only half open and a goofy smile on his face, nods at me. “Yeah. You guys are welcome here. You just have to contribute, you know?”

Stain puts his shoulders up and then back down. “All we have is twenty cents.”

Shirtless guy shakes his head at us and starts wagging his finger. “Don’t think capitalist. Think commune. We don’t accept money. We only accept an offering of yourselves, whatever that may be.”

Again, Stain is silent, so I speak. “OK. Well, we’re superheroes, so perhaps we could entertain you with our superpowers. We each have one.”

Shirtless guy speaks up, so everyone will listen. “I have an announcement. We have two newcomers who have accepted the challenge of offering. They are superheros, and each one of them wishes to regale us with his own unique superpower. Their superpowers are . . .”

Shirtless guy looks at me to finish the sentence, but I walk over to him and whisper in his ear. He simply nods at me and speaks to the crowd once more. “The superpowers will be demonstrated but not announced.”

Stain pulls me aside. “How am I going to perform my superpower? I’m not drunk.”

“You’re not. You’re going to do the party trick.”

“What? No way.”

“We promised superpowers. Trust me, it’ll look like a superpower.”

“You can do the party trick too. Why don’t you do it?”

“Because. My superpower works without alcohol.”

“How am I going to be able to perform?”

“Leave that to me.”

I borrow someone’s lawn chair and give it Stain. He nervously sits down on it.

I walk over to the edge of the river where three beautiful, long haired, dancing, hippie women have their feet in the water. I whisper to them then they promptly surround Stain and take their shirts off.

Stain pulls down his pants, pulls out Stain junior, bends way over, and pops it in his mouth.

Shirtless guy looks amazed. “Holy fucking shit man.”

The three ladies surrounding Stain, whose eyes are now bulging way out of their heads, look over at me. So, what’s your superpower?

Shirtless guy speaks to the crowd again. “Before performing, he told me that his superpower was that he could get any woman to take her shirt off. I believe he has adequately demonstrated this.”

Stain puts his pants back on. “All right, time to share the love.”

One of the topless women touch his back. “I’m all about sharing the love, especially after seeing you suck your own cock.”

Stain walks in the opposite direction. “I’m talking about the herb; besides, I love Lily.”

August 29

Cop or Peacock – Chapter 9


Stain grabs his eyes. “I think I have hepatitis.”

I give Stain an out of the corner of my eye sort of glance. “Hepatitis? In your eye?”

“Yeah, the fellow that had been liberated from possessions was spitting while he spoke.”

I laugh, out loud, and then I suddenly put on a serious deadpan face, even though I’m anything but serious. “What if he had herpes?”

“What? Oh, no. I can totally get ocular herpes. I’ve heard of that.”

“Oh yeah. You’ll have a big ring of incurable disease blisters shooting out of your eye.”

“What can I do?”

“This is terrible. People are going to think you were the creamy filled center in all boys production of circle time.”

“They totally will. They’ll look at my oozing eyesores and think that I love facials and not the good kind either.”

“There’s a good kind?”

“Yeah, it’s like a whole skin treatment at a beauty salon.”

“Oh, wow! Now, I feel like you deserve eye herpes.”

Stain starts fiddling with his eye a bit more and shows me his index finger. He looks and sounds very relieved. “It was just an eyelash, not an ocular disease.”

“That’s a relief. Now you only need to worry about the downstairs infections.”

A cop car is driving by. Stain waves a friendly hello, and the car pulls over.

A man wearing a funny costume with a piece of metal pinned on put his window down. “What are you boys up to tonight?”

I ignore the cop. Stain walks right up to the car, with his hand reaching up into his shirt. It almost looks like he’s holding a gun. “We’re walking, downtown.”

“What’s downtown?”

Stain moves his eyes back and forth, as if he were revealing the world’s best kept secret. “We’re going to get t-shirts made. We’re superheroes.”

“Ah, OK. Look, I’ve had some reports of weird stuff happening not too far from here. One report involves a large, tall, white guy. The other report is a medium framed, slender Chinese man.”

Stain looks, only mildly offended when he says in a racist Jerry Lewis type of accent. “So sorry. Me love you long time.”

The cop looks annoyed. “Are you trying to be smart with me?”

I look over. “He’s not Chinese.”

“Well, if you say so, but he sure looks Chinese, or Japanese, or something that ends with an ease sound.”

My tone is clearly annoyed at this point. “That’s right. He’s cheese. That’s his heritage. He comes from a long line of cow booby milk with a ton of bacterial culture.”

The cop gives the hand them over hand signal. “All right, names and IDs.”

Stain is happy to say who we are. “I’m Stain and this is Sappho. We fight for good.”

I’m much less thrilled with the whole encounter. “Listen sideshow. We’re not giving you our IDs. We don’t respect your authority, and your goofy little costume doesn’t do anything to help you out. Are we clear?”

“I can take you both down to the station right now. Would you like that?”

I screw up my eyes at this comment. “You. You’re just a peacock. You couldn’t even take one of us down to the station, never mind both of us. Give us your best.”

Stain actually looks a bit concerned now, as the cop begins calling for backup.

“I have matching descriptions for one Chinese man . . .”

Stain looks at me very intently but still finds the time to put on the Jerry Lewis accent again. “We run now? You want a flyed lice?”

“Yes, now we run.”

August 28

Transient Man – Chapter 8


Stain and I walk for a while where there is a whole lot of nothing but houses and a few office buildings. We walk for a while longer, and finally get to a nice, reasonably well lit path that will take us all the way downtown. The path begins at a west-end park, in a bit of questionable neighborhood. Yes, it’s dark, but we’re drunk superheroes with no real sense of personal safety, as you might expect of people like us.

Although the pathway is a nice riverside walk during the day, it’s a bit of a different story at night. A man on the street, likely transient in nature, approaches us. He has a surprisingly strong build for someone without a home. “Do you guys have change?”

We both search through our pockets. I apologetically hand him twenty cents. “I’m sorry this is all I have.”

“Thank you so much. I just need to catch a bus.”

Stain looks inquisitive. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”

Stain and I look at each other, and I speak up. “We’re going anywhere but here, but we’re walking.”

“Oh? You’re going that way.” He points in the direction we’re headed.

“Yes. Downtown.”

He looks at me as though I’m from a foreign land.

“Down . . . town? What direction is this downtown in?”

Stain looks at him and points down the path. “It’s that way.”

The transient looks confused and upset.

I elaborate. “Yes, it’s that way. That way is North.”

The transient looks around, almost to make sure nobody else is watching us. “True north or north north.”

I look directly into his eyes, to see if anyone is home. “I don’t think we’re close enough to the North Pole that it would make an actual difference.”

“Right, right, right, right. Left. No, no. It’s up. North is up on a map.”

Stain actually scratches his head at the transient’s ramblings. “Yes, on a map, North is up.”

“You are going down, Downtown, but you are going up. You are going up to go down.”

Stain and I look at each other, trying to figure out what to say or how to help, but the transient continues his ramblings.

“I never go up. I go down. I go down to go down. I never go up to go down. I never go up to go up. I don’t go North.” His voice begins to elevate, and he’s now spitting while speaking. “What kind of people go North? What kind of people are you? It’s cold there. I go South. I go down.”

Stain has a silly grin on his face. “You only ever travel South?”

“Well, sometimes left and East, but never North, never, never, never up and usually down, usually South.”

My logic diarrhea comes oozing out of my mouth before I have a chance to wipe it away. “That’s going to be a problem for you. You really shouldn’t take the bus or any other means of vehicular transportation. If you’re aiming to mostly travel South and never North, you will get to the South Pole and be stuck there forever. You should walk. Take your time and see the sites. It might take you a lifetime just to get to the tip of South America. It’ll be your life’s journey, instead of just a cold icy prison.”

The transient quickly grabs my hand slams the twenty cents back into it. “You’re right. I wish I had of run into you earlier. You are so right. Thank you so much. I will remember your words forever wise man.”

“You can keep the money. You might need it.”

He looks at me and caresses my face as though I were his lover. “You keep the money. I’m sure you will need it.”

He skips off into the distance like a schoolboy on Ritalin. I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s traveling North, and Stain just thinks it’s funny.

August 27

Unexpected Taggers – Chapter 7


The two artists are slow and apprehensive about approaching us. They’re probably used to running in a scenario like this. I feel awkward, and I don’t know what to say. Stain usually fixes these situations.

Stain walks right towards them. “Don’t worry you’re safe for a little while, as long as that couple doesn’t call the cops. We’ll be look out, if you want.”

They step closer to us, remove the hoods from their sweat shirts and reveal their secret identities, female taggers.

It made sense to me now. “The couple thought you were teenagers. It’s because of your shorter thinner stature. They assumed you were boys, not women.”

The pale faced black haired woman nods. “Yeah people do that. We’ve never got caught. The police come, and we just take the hoodies off – instant transformation from secret identity to innocent women trying to get home.”

The girl with the tanned skin and blonde hair introduces them. “I’m Ben and this is Frank. We’ve liberated ourselves from our given names, and we really like Benjamin Franklin.”

I look at Stain with the holy heck eyeballs. “How perfect is this? They have secret identities, and they change the world for the better, regardless of what the law says.”

“Yeah.” Stain pauses. “I think I’m in love.”

“I think I’m in love too.”

“With Lily.”


“Yeah, the redheaded talent agent from the bar.”

“Yeah, uh, I know who Lily is.” I was a bit perplexed, but hey, who am I to question love?

Stain looks at Ben. “Ben, Frank, what are you guys up to tonight, other than the obvious?”

Frank puts on a cute little pouty face. “We actually have to get home. We both have office jobs in the morning.”

I nod. “That’s cool. That’s life.”

Ben awkwardly walks closer to me. “What do you guys do?”

I’m afraid to answer. I’m never nervous about this, but I’m afraid, really afraid. Stain pipes up before I get the courage.

“I’m Stain, and this is Sappho; we’re superheros. We fight for good.”

I look at Stain with my eureka look. “That’s it. You nailed it, right into the wall. We fight for good. That’s so much better than we fight crime.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s is it. Man, I totally nailed it. So, do you ladies want to see my superpower?”

Ben looks nervous, but before she can object Frank excitedly weighs in. “Oh, yes, yes we definitely do.”

Stain runs away very quickly. Ben looks at me. “Soooooooo, what’s your superpower?”

“I kinda . . . I just don’t want to say right now.”

Ben gives a bit of a “whatever” eye roll. “It’s cool. We gotta go anyway.”

Frank almost looks sad. “Aw. Why won’t you show me?”

“OK. The things is. My superpower is getting a woman to show me her breasts, but I don’t want to do that with you guys.”

Ben looks a bit angry. “You don’t want to see our tits. That’s fucking bullshit.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I want to see you both, but I’m conflicted. I have such a powerful mental attraction to the two of you. I just don’t want to go straight to the physical. I’d like to go on a date with you and you.”

Ben squints at me. “You want to date us both. Then what? You’ll decide who you like better?”

“No, no, no, no. No! I want the three of us to go on a date. We’d all be on a date together. Dinner and a movie might be nice.”

Ben gives me an ugly, angry look. “That’s weird. Just weird.”

Frank looks back at Ben with a “you’re not being nice” glare. “Ben, don’t be so judgmental. A nice boy is asking us on a date. He’s tall, nice looking, has all of his teeth, and he’s a superhero. He also thinks our art work is cool, and he wasn’t sexist about female taggers. I say we give him a chance.”

“Fine, we’ll give him a chance, but I still think it’s weird. How do we get a hold of you?”

I start fiddling in my pockets as though I might have something to write with, even though I never do. “I need a paper and pen.”

Frank has the pouty face again. “We only have paint.”

I got it. “Stain.”

Ben gives me the ugly face again. “He took off. He’s nowhere around . . . wait, what the hell?”

Stain is back with a swoosh.

“Hey man, can I borrow your sketch pad and pencil?”

Stain pulls out a small sketch pad and pencil. I write my number on it twice. Rip the paper in half, and give one to Frank and one to Ben.

Ben has a bit of a smile on her face. “I still think this is weird.”

I shake my head no. “It’s not going to be weird; it’s going to be magical.”

Ben gives me the middle finger. “You know what’s magical? Magical is a guy asking to see my tits and getting to see them, not a guy asking not to see my tits.”

Before I got a chance to respond, Ben lifts her shirt and bra.

Frank looked amazed. “‘Wow! They really are superheros.” She then lifted her shirt and bra. “We’ll call you.”

Stain and I began to walk away. He put his head half to the side and opened his eyes really wide. “Do you have to do that everywhere we go?”

“Do what?”

“The boob thing.”

“I didn’t do it this time. I actually tried to stop it.”

“Yeah. Right.”

August 26

Street Art – Chapter 6

Post Office

“Stain, man, I got t-shirts on the brain. You know a place we can get shirts custom?”

“Downtown. I’m up for the walk if you are.”

“Yeah, I’m up for the walk, but downtown is farther away than my sense of dignity when I saw that 70-year-old woman in the parking lot. I don’t think we’ll make it before they close.”

“They’ve already closed. You still up for the walk?”

We start walking downtown, which is at least a 30 minute cab ride from the hotel. The moon is full in the sky, and there are only a few people out on the streets, even on this warm night.

We walk past a couple on the street, holding hands, and Stain immediately has one of those “light bulb over his head” ideas, so he stops them. “Hey folks, I’m Stain, and this is my crime fighting friend Sappho. We’re superheros. Have you seen anyone committing crimes?”

The man gives us a funny look, but the woman seems a bit more trusting when she points and says: “yes, there’s a post office just around the corner and some teens are putting graffiti all over it.”

I have to clarify for them. “Right, we don’t mean crimes against big bureaucracy, business, or other large empires that need to be taken down a peg. We’re just talking about crimes with a victim.”

The male part of the couple quickly chimes in, as if he has something important to say. “We are victims. We pay our taxes to maintain that building, and now it’s going to cost us extra to get rid of the graffiti.”

Stain looks appalled. “Why would anyone get rid of public art on a public building? That’s censorship.”

The argument begins to get fairly volatile between Stain and the man, so I use the opportunity to talk to his girlfriend off to the side. She shakes her head. “He always does this shit.”

Stain actually bitch slaps the guy. The guy is fuming mad, yelling at the top of his lungs, so Stain laughs and runs away, like lightning. The man starts chasing him.

The woman is about to go after them, but I take her hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll never catch Stain.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He’s drunk. It’s his superpower. When he’s drunk, he can run really fast?”

“Wow, he is really fast. Wait, what’s your superpower then?”

“I can get women to show me their boobs.”

“What? How is that a superpower?”

“Do you normally show your boobs to people?”


I squeeze her hand gently, to remind her that our hands are still locked. “Wouldn’t you love a moment of pure adrenaline, pure energy? That’s what your angry boyfriend gets when he leaves you here alone and runs off to fight with people.”

“I guess, but I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t have to. You just lift that little piece of cloth and let your amazingly beautiful breasts bounce, and if you don’t feel that rush – free shot – punch me in the face.”

“You’d let me punch you in the face?”

“It would be totally worth it to see someone as beautiful as you.”

She has a bit of an “angry at the boyfriend” but excited look at the same time. She pulls her shirt and bra down, instead of up, hiding her small belly but exposing her massive breasts.

The bulge is back. “Oh my.”

We didn’t notice, but the boyfriend is heading back, and he starts yelling.

“What the fuck bitch? That guy is fucking dead. Do you hear me you superhero motherfucker? I’m going to kill you and ass rape your dead fucking corpse.”

The woman is so distracted that she forgets to pull her shirt back up, and I’m so distracted by the shirt being down that I can’t even look away from her. I hear his foot steps getting closer. Suddenly, I hear a loud thump, and I wince. Stain did a jumping leg tackle on the running maniac. He’s doing his best to hold him down, but the guy is fairly big and fairly angry.

“Sappho, let’s go man.”

I look at the woman, shirt still down. So, do you feel the energy?”

“Yes, yes. Do you?”

I cup her breast, pinch the nipple, and kiss her on the cheek. “Oh yes, indeed.”

Stain and I begin to run off, but I’m going really slow. Stain looks back at me. “Come on man. He’s going to catch up.”

“It’s difficult to run. I have a big boob bulge in my britches. No worries. I’ve got an idea.”

We run over to the post office to see a scene of the most beautiful rain forest set a blaze, painted on the side of the building.

Stain sees the artists and waves at them. “I love your work.”

There’s no sign of the disgruntled boyfriend now. He probably wasn’t up for a four against one scenario.

August 25

The Blue Suit – Chapter 5


I get back to the bar. Winnie makes an obvious glance towards my bulge and gives me a big toothy grin. Like a ninja, I swiftly and quietly move back to my bar stool, like I was never missing. Some ridiculously pompous blue suit is sitting in the seat right next to Lily, on the opposite side of Stain.

He speaks in a loud and garish manner as those people sometimes do. “So you’re like a model?”

Before she can get a breath in, he continues. “I’ve never had drinks with a hot, redheaded model before. How much do you gals get paid?”

“I don’t really like to talk about money, and I’m not a model.”

“Yeah, right, but you do have red hair right? I mean, the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes, yah?”

Lily is very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. She’s finished her drink and hasn’t asked for another. Her shoulders are tight, almost up to her ears, and she keeps looking away from the suit, never directly at him.

Blue suit picks up his ringing cell, and begins talking even louder than before, as you often see from those people. “Hey Charlie, how the fuck are you, you ole piece of shit. What am I doin? I’m at a bar getting drunk with a hot redheaded model.”

He looks towards the wall, as his brain is clearly not capable of focusing on anything more than a basic conversation. Lily uses this as her chance to escape. On the way out, she puts her hand on Stain’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you. I wish we had a chance to speak more, but I’m tired and need sleep now.”

Stain looks very disappointed. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lily gives me a passing nod. “Goodbye.”

“Bye Lily.”

Blue suit finally hangs up the phone, looks around and sees a complete absence of Lily. “Where’s the red bushed model gone?”

Stain is getting very angry – this isn’t good. He grabs knives when he’s angry. “Her name is Lily.”

Blue suit laughs. “I don’t give a flying fuck if her name is Henry, as long as she puts that beautiful mouth on my cock.”

. . . and now, it’s time for me to stop a situation from happening. I grab Stain’s shoulder and look over at Blue suit, while placing my credit card on the bar. “We have to get going.”

Winnie pushes the card back toward me. “It’s on me, as long as you come see me again.”

I lean way over the bar and kiss her on the lips, slowly, unapologetically; I take my time. “I’ll see you again. We have some unfinished business.”

Blue suit’s eyes are bulging out of his sockets, like he’s never seen two people kiss before. “Wow, how do I get in on this free beer? Do I have to make out with the bar wench too?”

Stain looks at me with his “can I kill this guy now” face, but I simply shake my head no.

I gesture to the suit. “Before I go, I was just out in the parking lot, and I think something might have happened to your car. You were driving the BMW, right?”

“No! Do you think I would be caught dead in that piece of shit? Fuck no! I drive a Jag, bitch!”

“Well, I’m not a car guy. I don’t know. Was it gold or tan or something?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Do I look 50 to you? A gold car, as fucking if.”

“It was dark – I guess it could have been grey or silver, and maybe it was just the light.”

He furls his brow and pinches his index finger together with his thumb, gesturing the pinch back and forth, toward and away from his face, sharply. “Silver, really? My car is Azurite Blue. Do I look like I bring fucking orange slices to the soccer team?”

“I suppose not. Good day to you?”

Stain and I walk outside and quickly begin looking for a blue Jag. We see it parked outside a row of rooms, and Stain is ready to take out every last bit of aggression on it, but he stops himself. “I don’t know if a superhero would do this type of thing.”

“Stain, man, real superheros don’t just fight crime, they make the world a better place. This is a bad person. You can tell that because he wears a blue suit.”

“That’s true, but don’t bad people need an example of kindness to be good?”

Stain has an excellent point. I nod. “I wasn’t going to hurt the car anyway. I just figured you deserved a go at him, and you know I don’t like physical violence. Maybe being a superhero is just always doing the right thing, even when you want to smash the car in.”

Stain has a look of admission on his face. “Yeah, or maybe being a superhero is recognizing the car is backed into the space, and it’s only taking up one space, but it’s not parked very straight.”


“With arrogance like that and bragging like he did about his car, he would park it perfectly straight in two spots, so people knew he did it on purpose, and he wouldn’t back it in. People who back in usually prepare for the future. He’s not that guy. We got played.”

“No way. He’s too stupid for that.”

We look at each other, speaking at the same time. “Bosses car.”

I look at the car one last time and start to walk away. “But we could leave a nasty note about the employee,” I suggest.

“No, let’s take the high road. Let’s be superheros.”

August 24

No GILFs Tonight – Chapter 4


Winnie brings back the wine and introduces herself. “I’m Winnie by the way.”

“Hi Winnie, I’m Lily.”

“That a pretty name.” Winnie points to us. “That’s Stain and Sappho. I think Sappho is a superhero name.”

Stain laughs and points to himself. “Stain is a superhero name also.”

Lily gives no look of judgement or concern, and she has no ill tone in her voice. “You’re superheros, for real?”

Stain fields the question by saying that “yes, we are indeed. I’m also an artist, and Sappho’s a poet.”

Lily’s posture changes. She’s becoming relaxed and intrigued. She looks right at Stain. “What kind of artist are you?”

“I’m a painter. I like to sketch as well, especially people. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a talent agent for models.”

“Really? I don’t mean to be rude, but you look so young.”

“It’s a business for girls. I started off in modeling when I was a teenager, and once you can’t take the starvation and the orders anymore, you either leave or become management. Sure, I’m only 23, but I’m way too old and way too fat to be a model.”

Stain is floored by this comment. “You are young, beautiful, and skinny.”

“They’re younger and skinnier than I am.”

I can tell that Stain and Lily are having a kick ass time, but the only thing on my mind are Winnie’s breasts, which look great through her shirt. I walk away from the conversation, completely unnoticed by everyone, except Winnie. I motion her to come with me. She shakes her head no. I motion her again, and she looks a little mad, but she follows.

“I can’t go too far. I’m still working.”

“I know, but you have to show me.”

Winnie takes my hand and excitedly pulls me to the corner of an outdoor parking lot. She lifts her shirt and bra. I put my hand on her stomach to see if it’s OK, and she lets out a little a breath. I move my hand up around her breast and begin kissing her lips. Her hand quickly moves down my pants and grabs the soldier like she’s trying to choke the life out of him. She takes her other hand and begins touching herself, slower and more gently. We keep kissing, tongues caressing. She starts to scream; she’s loud. My ears are ringing in pain; she’s so loud, but it’s such a turn on. She unbuckles my pants, and pulls the BMOC right out, spits on her hand a few times, and gives it a really fast go. My legs are shaking, hands trembling, but right at that moment a car pulls up and shines the headlights right on Winnie and me.

“Oh, Fuck. I better get back to work. Sorry, but thank you.” Winnie kisses my lips, hurriedly, three times and runs back to work.

A lady gets out of the car; she’s at least 70 years old. She stares at me, sees that I’m in full salute and doesn’t look away. Out of nothing more than curiosity, I pull it a bit to see her response. She looks more frightened than anything. “You can’t do that here.”

I was hoping for a weird 70+ experience, but it was more of a concerned citizen scenario. Now I feel like the weird creepy pervert guy who just violated someone’s Grandma. I’m probably going to be in the news. I still can’t keep it down though, even after that detrimental experience, after two successful takes offs with no missiles launched, I think I’ll be flying high for the rest of the day. I saunter back to the bar with an irreversible bulge in my pants.

August 23

Sappho’s Superpower – Chapter 3


My heart bangs, almost right out of its cage of bones. I recognize the radiant woman behind the bar. She’s chatting with some noose necked alchy. I can tell that he values his life less than anybody else possibly could. I almost don’t want to drink after seeing him at the end of the bar, but I feel the only way to get happy after seeing that sad sack is to throw back a pitcher or three of ale.

“How are you guys doing?” She starts the conversation, but she hasn’t noticed me yet.

Stain is always better at talking to people than I, so I’ll let the experienced rider take the reins. “Actually, pretty good. Can we get a pitcher of beer please? It’s my birthday, and I just went to Sappho’s place to pick him up. You’ll never believe . . .”

The bartender tilts her head and squints her eyes. “Sappho? You’re not Sappho. I know you from grade school. You’re Davis.”

Stain smiles a big wild and crazy smile. “Sappho is his superhero name.”

She looks intently at me for a moment. “Do you remember me?”

“Absolutely. You have a twin sister.”

“That’s right. Do you remember my name . . . or our names?”

“I remember both your names – Winnie and Janet, and I have a way of telling who is who.”

Her smiles gets a little bigger, but her eyes have a doubtful look in them. “OK, who am I?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my superpower is?”

She laughs, and it’s not a courtesy laugh. Her hand gently sits on top of mine, noticeably on top of the bar. “Sure. What’s your superpower?”

“I can get women to show me their boobs.”

She gives me a sideways glance. “I bet you can.”

She goes to the tap, pours out a pitcher of beer with no head, and sets it down on the bar, putting her hand right in front of me.

I place my hand on top of hers, holding it now, squeezing it gently. “Thank you Winnie.”

Stain looks impressed, like the times when I start juggling and we’re both really drunk. “How did you know? They look different or dress different or something?”

Winnie shakes her head a bit. “No, we look exactly the same. We used to wear different colors so people could tell us apart, but we stopped doing that years ago.” She looks very curiously at me. “How did you know? We haven’t seen each other in so many years.”

“I can tell you that it has nothing to do with the way you look, but if you want to know more, it’ll cost you.”

Winnie looks very intrigued. “What’s the price?”

“I want to see what’s under your shirt.”

Her mouth widens, almost out of shock, but it turns into a gaping turned on smile. At that moment, a gorgeous redhead sits down at the bar, two seats over from Stain.

Winnie walks a bit closer to her. “What can I get you?”

The woman looks stressed out. “A nice glass of red wine would be great, thank you.”

August 17

Confusing Love


“I don’t want to go over there tomorrow.”

“Leslie, I’m going to meet your parents. It’s already arranged.”

“I know. I, know!” Leslie returned.

“Please be ok with this. It’s a very very important step in our relationship.”

“I know Jamie. I, know! It’s not you. It’s them. They can be a little difficult.”

“Everyone’s parents are difficult. My parents wanted me to marry someone with a doctorate, but here I am, engaged to someone with a bachelor degree.”

“Don’t tease, your parents love love love me, and you don’t have a doctorate.”

“I’m working on it,” Jamie said with a hearty laugh.

I made sure to get to my parents place the next day before Jamie, so I could try to prepare them, and I was hoping they would say the worst things to me and not to Jamie.

“Button up your shirt, I can see your birthmark,” mom directed dad, who had a strange Florida shaped birthmark on his chest.

“Mom, Jamie is coming soon, so is there anything you want to ask me now, so you don’t embarrass me in front of her?”

“Jamie is a girl?”

“Yes, Jamie is a girl. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t know. I assumed you were still dating boys.”

“Mom, I dated one man, once, ever.”

My dad used this as an opportunity to get in on the action and said: “look, if our son Les wants to date a beautiful woman with ripe titties and a sweet tasting fuck hole, than he should.”

Mom gave dad an evil look while saying: “David, don’t talk to Leslie like that.”

Dad angrily returned with: “call him Les, damn it. Why did I ever let you give him that fag name, and why are you trying to get him to be gay. The poor guy is dating a chick with a more manly name than him. He doesn’t want to be a gay anymore. He wants the sweet smell of pussy on his cock.”

“David! Leslie was my grandfather’s name.” Mom said with feigned shock.

I give them both my best look of disappointment when I say: “OK guys, I’m glad that you got that out of your system before Jamie got here. Now, please do your best to behave like civilized members of society. I love her, and I’m going to marry her. There is one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

The doorbell rings. Dad quickly buttons his shirt, opens the door, and says: “she’s black.”

Mom looks a bit upset and quickly retorts: “David, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being racist this time. She actually is black.” He looks at Jamie and says: “you are black right? You’re not one of those Cubans that just looks black?”


Jamie was about to speak before my mom interrupted her with: “you don’t tell them they’re black. They already know they’re black. You’re not even supposed to notice.”

“Of course you’re going to notice. I mean, really? Look at her. She looks black, mostly. How do you not notice that?” My dad asks.

“Jamie, meet Edith and Archie,” I say.

My mom shoots me a glance and says: “that’s not nice Leslie. I’m Nancy, and this is my husband David. We’re Leslie’s parents, and we’re very honored to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you,” my dad said after a bit of a pause.

Jamie has a concerned look on her face and a defeated posture when she says: “nice to meet you” then asks: “who are Edith and Archie?”

My father quickly returns with: “they’re like what the Jefferson’s are to you people.”

With raised eyebrows and a gaping mouth, Jamie lets out: “oh.”

“So, are your parents OK with you marrying a white man?” Dad asks Jamie.

Jamie, almost afraid to answer the question says: “yes; I have one white and one black parent, so I think they would be fine if I married anyone. Although, I don’t know my dad, but I assume he would be fine with it.”

“I here that happens a lot,” my dad thoughtlessly belts out.

Jamie looks genuinely confused when she asks: “what does?”

My dad looks a bit hurt by the question and fires back: “I’m not trying to get in a fight or anything. I just heard that a lot of black fathers go missing.”

Nobody said anything for a moment. Even my mom can’t believe he said that.

Jamie, saddened and serious says: “my dad is white.”

My mom looks shocked when she says: “Oh!” She stammers a bit and continues with: “David, you’ve upset everyone. Her father is probably dead.”

“Jamie, I’m so very sorry. This is a disaster. Lets just go,” I say while grabbing her hand and yanking a bit.

My dad, for the first time ever, swallowed his pride and said: “I’m sorry too. We, that is, I just don’t know better. I’m ignorant and don’t get out much. Please forgive me.”

“It’s OK. Um, yeah. I don’t think my dad is dead. My mom didn’t know it at first, but he was married, maybe still is. He chose not to be a part of our lives, so he wouldn’t have to upset his wife, I guess. I never tried to find him because I’m guessing he didn’t want to found.”

“That’s terrible. Do you know anything about him?” Mom asked as though we were in group counseling.

“No. I haven’t even seen a photo of him. All I know is that he’s white, lives around here, and has a birthmark somewhere on his body that’s shaped like a state.”

Me, mom, and dad all look at each other in utter shock. What the hell do I do now?

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