Taking tomorrow off to do some Labor Day preparton stuff for Monday...
Will get it all done on Friday, and Saturday will get back to posting this story.
So glad you all like it!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Michelle Bravo's Seduction ch 3
The lights came up on a set with two entrances stage left and right, a fireplace, a radio with a British voice broadcasting winter weather news, chairs and settees, and a window at the back which had snow falling behind it.
"A murder has been committed..." said the radio voice.
Anne Greenstreet smiled with joy as the characters gradually came on stage... the wife Molly, shivering with cold, annoyed to find her husband had mis-painted the sign for Monkswell Manor, the husband coming in with dark grey hat, dark scarf and a dark coat (as the radio announces that police in London wish to question a man wearing just such an ensemble), and then the guests who will occupy the guest-house for a snowed-in weekend of murder and suspense.
It was a local theatre group - an amateur theatre group - and Anne hadn't been sure what to expect. And it was true that their English accents varied widely - some did a good job, some were barely passable. But they were all good actors and believable in their characters.
The actor playing Christopher Wren played his part for all he was worth and, as usual, got all the laughs and all the sympathy from the audience.
The actor playing Detective Sergeant Trotter did not have as showy a part - indeed, no one did! - but he was quiet and in command and commanded the stage.
Anne had chosen her seat carefully - three rows back in the center. She would have preferred to have been in the first row, but certain actors had a tendency to spit as they projected their lines to the back row. Plus she didn't really want to catch an actor's eye and be noticed.
She was working seriously on a play and had started going to see the same play over and over again, just to see the blocking and the stage craft, as well as the actors and how they performed the same part differently each night. She'd gotten some strange looks from the actors and had been afraid that they would think she was stalking them as a rabid fan, when all she was doing was stalking the play itself.
She'd treated herself to one night on the "floor" of the theatre, and, assuming she liked the play - and she found herself loving it - she would return the next night and watch it from the balcony.
The first act ended. Anne wasn't hungry or thirsty, but she wanted to support the theatre's efforts so she went out to the lobby and purchased a cup of pop and a chocolate chip cookie. The actors again were handling the lobby sales - all except Trotter and Wren, for which Emma was duly grateful. While they'd been mingling before the play, now that their roles had been established it would probably diminish Trotter's authority to see him handing out cookies, and Wren probably had to rest for the emotional second act.
Anne returned to her seat with pop and cookie and waited for the second act.
"A murder has been committed..." said the radio voice.
Anne Greenstreet smiled with joy as the characters gradually came on stage... the wife Molly, shivering with cold, annoyed to find her husband had mis-painted the sign for Monkswell Manor, the husband coming in with dark grey hat, dark scarf and a dark coat (as the radio announces that police in London wish to question a man wearing just such an ensemble), and then the guests who will occupy the guest-house for a snowed-in weekend of murder and suspense.
It was a local theatre group - an amateur theatre group - and Anne hadn't been sure what to expect. And it was true that their English accents varied widely - some did a good job, some were barely passable. But they were all good actors and believable in their characters.
The actor playing Christopher Wren played his part for all he was worth and, as usual, got all the laughs and all the sympathy from the audience.
The actor playing Detective Sergeant Trotter did not have as showy a part - indeed, no one did! - but he was quiet and in command and commanded the stage.
Anne had chosen her seat carefully - three rows back in the center. She would have preferred to have been in the first row, but certain actors had a tendency to spit as they projected their lines to the back row. Plus she didn't really want to catch an actor's eye and be noticed.
She was working seriously on a play and had started going to see the same play over and over again, just to see the blocking and the stage craft, as well as the actors and how they performed the same part differently each night. She'd gotten some strange looks from the actors and had been afraid that they would think she was stalking them as a rabid fan, when all she was doing was stalking the play itself.
She'd treated herself to one night on the "floor" of the theatre, and, assuming she liked the play - and she found herself loving it - she would return the next night and watch it from the balcony.
The first act ended. Anne wasn't hungry or thirsty, but she wanted to support the theatre's efforts so she went out to the lobby and purchased a cup of pop and a chocolate chip cookie. The actors again were handling the lobby sales - all except Trotter and Wren, for which Emma was duly grateful. While they'd been mingling before the play, now that their roles had been established it would probably diminish Trotter's authority to see him handing out cookies, and Wren probably had to rest for the emotional second act.
Anne returned to her seat with pop and cookie and waited for the second act.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Michelle Bravo's Seduction Ch 2
After having seen the Mousetrap two years ago, Anne had returned to the United States with a new enthusiasm. She'd started reading all of Agatha Christie's mysteries in order, then moved on to Dorothy Sayers and the other Golden Age authors.
One particular thing she had done was to compare the novels the authors had written, to the plays produced from those novels - for it was her desire to become a playwright and write mystery plays good enough to run on Broadway.
After graduating from high school in Rogers she'd worked at a fast food restaurant for a year while writing her play...finally deciding that she'd been too over-confident and that she should go to college and get a degree in Theatre Arts which would help her on her way.
She had applied for a scholarship and worked for another year, saving up money so she could get a little apartment in Sweetwater instead of having to stay at a dorm at the college there which she was now attending.
Anne had brought a book with her - her favorite Lord Peter Wimsey book, Murder Must Advertise, and read through it desultorily as she waited for the play to begin. She was vaguely aware that the theatre was gradually filling up and this made her happy - how said it would be to put on a play and have nobody come.
In no time at all the house lights dimmed, signalling that the play was about to begin.
Anne closed her book and looked toward the stage in anticipation.
One particular thing she had done was to compare the novels the authors had written, to the plays produced from those novels - for it was her desire to become a playwright and write mystery plays good enough to run on Broadway.
After graduating from high school in Rogers she'd worked at a fast food restaurant for a year while writing her play...finally deciding that she'd been too over-confident and that she should go to college and get a degree in Theatre Arts which would help her on her way.
She had applied for a scholarship and worked for another year, saving up money so she could get a little apartment in Sweetwater instead of having to stay at a dorm at the college there which she was now attending.
Anne had brought a book with her - her favorite Lord Peter Wimsey book, Murder Must Advertise, and read through it desultorily as she waited for the play to begin. She was vaguely aware that the theatre was gradually filling up and this made her happy - how said it would be to put on a play and have nobody come.
In no time at all the house lights dimmed, signalling that the play was about to begin.
Anne closed her book and looked toward the stage in anticipation.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Michele Bravo's Seduction
The Sweetwater Little Theater was putting on a production of The Mousetrap - the famous play written by Agatha Christie over 60 years ago and still running in the West End. It was also a popular regional theater favorite, and high school drama clubs also staged it frequently as well.
Anne Greenstreet, who was new in the town of Sweetwater, had seen The Mousetrap in the West End just two years ago, when she and her Theater Club from high school had made the trip over to London to see several plays. They'd seen the highbrow ones - a couple of Shakespeare productions - Hamlet and King Henry V, and then a "popular" play - The Mousetrap. It had been The Mousetrap that Ann had loved, and that had spring-boarded both an interest in the theatre and an interest in mysteries.
Anne hadn't joined the Theatre Club because she'd been interested in theatre, but because she knew the Theatre Club got to go on a trip to England every year. The club had spent its time analyzing dry texts and watching plays on TV - she'd never seen an actual production until that London trip.
Now, at age 20, she was just starting college in Sweetwater - a town a hundred miles west of her tiny hometown Rogers, of and it seemed like an omen, that the city's - well, large town, really - sole theatre group was putting on a production of that same play.
Ann rode her bike from her dorm to the theater. Sweetwater was bike-friendly and there were bike racks everywhere - including in front of the Sweetwater Little Theatre.
After locking her bike into the bike rack, Anne entered the theater. A young, rather handsome man in costume and makeup - he was wearing a garish blue suit with a red tie - was taking tickets. Anne handed him hers. HE smiled at her brightly, tore the ticket in half and handed back the stub, and said, "Enjoy the show."
Anne returned the smile and continued on into the foyer. That had to be the actor playing Christopher Wren. He was kind of cute.
She looked around the foyer. Other costumed-and-makeup people were standing behind a counter selling drinks and chocolates, and others were handing out programs.
A small theatre indeed, thought Anne, when the actors had to do double-duty as spear-carriers. Or would these front-of-house people be referred to as myrmidons?
Anyway, she didn't see anyone who could be Detective Sergeant Trotter. When she'd seen the play in England, Trotter and Wren had been her two favorite characters.
Anne bought a can of cold Pepsi and took it with her into the auditorium. Then she settled down to wait for the play to start.
_______________
This story and its plot copyright 2012 by Caroline Miniscule
Anne Greenstreet, who was new in the town of Sweetwater, had seen The Mousetrap in the West End just two years ago, when she and her Theater Club from high school had made the trip over to London to see several plays. They'd seen the highbrow ones - a couple of Shakespeare productions - Hamlet and King Henry V, and then a "popular" play - The Mousetrap. It had been The Mousetrap that Ann had loved, and that had spring-boarded both an interest in the theatre and an interest in mysteries.
Anne hadn't joined the Theatre Club because she'd been interested in theatre, but because she knew the Theatre Club got to go on a trip to England every year. The club had spent its time analyzing dry texts and watching plays on TV - she'd never seen an actual production until that London trip.
Now, at age 20, she was just starting college in Sweetwater - a town a hundred miles west of her tiny hometown Rogers, of and it seemed like an omen, that the city's - well, large town, really - sole theatre group was putting on a production of that same play.
Ann rode her bike from her dorm to the theater. Sweetwater was bike-friendly and there were bike racks everywhere - including in front of the Sweetwater Little Theatre.
After locking her bike into the bike rack, Anne entered the theater. A young, rather handsome man in costume and makeup - he was wearing a garish blue suit with a red tie - was taking tickets. Anne handed him hers. HE smiled at her brightly, tore the ticket in half and handed back the stub, and said, "Enjoy the show."
Anne returned the smile and continued on into the foyer. That had to be the actor playing Christopher Wren. He was kind of cute.
She looked around the foyer. Other costumed-and-makeup people were standing behind a counter selling drinks and chocolates, and others were handing out programs.
A small theatre indeed, thought Anne, when the actors had to do double-duty as spear-carriers. Or would these front-of-house people be referred to as myrmidons?
Anyway, she didn't see anyone who could be Detective Sergeant Trotter. When she'd seen the play in England, Trotter and Wren had been her two favorite characters.
Anne bought a can of cold Pepsi and took it with her into the auditorium. Then she settled down to wait for the play to start.
_______________
This story and its plot copyright 2012 by Caroline Miniscule
Friday, August 17, 2012
Okay, so it'll be the 20th
Catching up on some stuff, but a story is germinating in my head...expect it by Monday.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
60 is the new 40
On August 10, 2012, the Cheyenne chapter of the AARP hosted a seminar
called Gray Matters - which was free and provided a free lunch -
unfortunately fish and cheesecake, blech - from 4 to 6 was a reception
for all travelers who had come in for the AARP National Spelling Bee to
be held on the 11th.
I attended that and it was a lot of fun. The emcee introduced a few folks, we talked about words, there was a "mock" spelling bee (which only consisted of about 20 people getting up and being questioned on one word...._ and so on. And there were finger foods there - Chinese food to be precise. Don't know where they got it from or if they cooked it on site (Little America is a hotel and resort where people come to play golf among other things) but it was delish.
The spelling bee started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 am (Well...8:30 is not so ungodly but I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 to get there in time for registration, etc.) It started with 4 rounds of 25 words each - which was a Written Test.
The first 25 words were extremely easy. They asked words like "Greetings" and "Navel" and "Mince." I suppose a few might have been considered difficult... "Animus" and "Lacuna."
The second 25 words were equally easy, but I did miss MUGWUMP.
I assume they did this just to help everyone settle the nerves and get new people used to what was going on. People had trouble hearing some of the words (hey, they were all over 50 and most over 60) and the Pronouncer would come down and tell them the word face to face and have them say it back, etc. Indeed, the Pronouncer did an excellent job.
Third round was where they started asking the difficult words.
I missed:
QUESTIONARY INERCALATE
TUATARA
SKOSH
VIRIDITY
WIMBLE
The fourth round was the real killer. I only got 12 out of 25 right. I missed:
FELICIFIC
DOVEKIE
FLYTING
NAPERY
COTYLEDONARY
WELTSCHMERRZ
OPPUGNER
AECIOSPORE
SYNCYTIAL
KNUR
IRIDIUM
TUYERE
HYOSCYAMINE
I then stayed for the Oral rounds and was joined by one of my friends from my Scrabble Club. (I think an audience could have assembled for the Written rounds, too. There were chairs there and family were in them...but I think most people only wanted to come see the Oral rounds where you actually saw the speller's faces as opposed to their backs, etc.)
Two of the people I met last night at the reception made it to the Orals. One of them it was his first trip to the Bee and he was successful his first time out. Made it through about 10 rounds. (In the Orals, you miss two words and you're out.) Another one was an elderly woman from Minnesota who also got through about 10 rounds before being knocked out.
There were three sisters and a brother who had come as a sort of family reunion. The eldest sister made it to the Oral rounds but was bounced after only two rounds. This was too bad and it was because she was a bit unlucky - she got two 6-syllable words in a row while some of the others were getting much easier ones (but still, not ones I could have spelled). But she was disqualified along with several other people in the same round, so hopefully she didn't feel too bad.
The words in the Oral Rounds were extremely difficult. Several times more difficult than the toughest words in the final round of the Written.
But, had I studied for a year, I think I could have handled them.
And it is my intention to study for a year and get into the Orals next year.
So, why is the title of this blog entry 60 is thenew 40?
Because it is.
People are living longer. You don't want to outlive your money and more importantly you don't want to outlive your sense of enjoyment of life. And learning new things every day is enjoyment and keeps the mind active.
The AARP Spelling Bee is held every year, and it gives you an excellent reason to travel to Cheyenne and see The Cowboy State. You'll meet lots of interesting people.
You do have to study.
I studied very desultorily for about a month...combine all the time I studied and it was about 10 hours. Not nearly enough, but then, I'm a good speller so the Written Rounds were relatively easy - except for that killer last round.
Why learn words that you'll never, ever say in real life?Well, because they're interesting. And the concepts of what you'll learn, you can apply in other areas. So it's a win win.
So start planning to live a long, healthy, active, intellectual life, and do it now, however old you might be!
I attended that and it was a lot of fun. The emcee introduced a few folks, we talked about words, there was a "mock" spelling bee (which only consisted of about 20 people getting up and being questioned on one word...._ and so on. And there were finger foods there - Chinese food to be precise. Don't know where they got it from or if they cooked it on site (Little America is a hotel and resort where people come to play golf among other things) but it was delish.
The spelling bee started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 am (Well...8:30 is not so ungodly but I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 to get there in time for registration, etc.) It started with 4 rounds of 25 words each - which was a Written Test.
The first 25 words were extremely easy. They asked words like "Greetings" and "Navel" and "Mince." I suppose a few might have been considered difficult... "Animus" and "Lacuna."
The second 25 words were equally easy, but I did miss MUGWUMP.
I assume they did this just to help everyone settle the nerves and get new people used to what was going on. People had trouble hearing some of the words (hey, they were all over 50 and most over 60) and the Pronouncer would come down and tell them the word face to face and have them say it back, etc. Indeed, the Pronouncer did an excellent job.
Third round was where they started asking the difficult words.
I missed:
QUESTIONARY INERCALATE
TUATARA
SKOSH
VIRIDITY
WIMBLE
The fourth round was the real killer. I only got 12 out of 25 right. I missed:
FELICIFIC
DOVEKIE
FLYTING
NAPERY
COTYLEDONARY
WELTSCHMERRZ
OPPUGNER
AECIOSPORE
SYNCYTIAL
KNUR
IRIDIUM
TUYERE
HYOSCYAMINE
I then stayed for the Oral rounds and was joined by one of my friends from my Scrabble Club. (I think an audience could have assembled for the Written rounds, too. There were chairs there and family were in them...but I think most people only wanted to come see the Oral rounds where you actually saw the speller's faces as opposed to their backs, etc.)
Two of the people I met last night at the reception made it to the Orals. One of them it was his first trip to the Bee and he was successful his first time out. Made it through about 10 rounds. (In the Orals, you miss two words and you're out.) Another one was an elderly woman from Minnesota who also got through about 10 rounds before being knocked out.
There were three sisters and a brother who had come as a sort of family reunion. The eldest sister made it to the Oral rounds but was bounced after only two rounds. This was too bad and it was because she was a bit unlucky - she got two 6-syllable words in a row while some of the others were getting much easier ones (but still, not ones I could have spelled). But she was disqualified along with several other people in the same round, so hopefully she didn't feel too bad.
The words in the Oral Rounds were extremely difficult. Several times more difficult than the toughest words in the final round of the Written.
But, had I studied for a year, I think I could have handled them.
And it is my intention to study for a year and get into the Orals next year.
So, why is the title of this blog entry 60 is thenew 40?
Because it is.
People are living longer. You don't want to outlive your money and more importantly you don't want to outlive your sense of enjoyment of life. And learning new things every day is enjoyment and keeps the mind active.
The AARP Spelling Bee is held every year, and it gives you an excellent reason to travel to Cheyenne and see The Cowboy State. You'll meet lots of interesting people.
You do have to study.
I studied very desultorily for about a month...combine all the time I studied and it was about 10 hours. Not nearly enough, but then, I'm a good speller so the Written Rounds were relatively easy - except for that killer last round.
Why learn words that you'll never, ever say in real life?Well, because they're interesting. And the concepts of what you'll learn, you can apply in other areas. So it's a win win.
So start planning to live a long, healthy, active, intellectual life, and do it now, however old you might be!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
New story starts August 12
That's the day after the Cheyenne Spelling Bee - prize $1,000 - that I've been studying for.
Hall of the Mountain King Chapters 12 and 13
I.
Michele and Fitz walked quietly through Endless Caverns, impressed by the sheer beauty of it. Michele hadn’t known what to expect, after the let-down of the Skyline Caverns, but the Endless Caverns lived up to their billing. It was just as impressive as Luray Caverns had been. Gigantic stalactites and stalagmites were on display here…hundreds of them. Michele regretted now that she hadn’t taken her Skyline Tour Guide aside and asked him what had happened to all the stalactites there…why there were only a handful. Was Skyline so much younger that only a few stalactites had formed, had they all been broken off for some reason…or were the conditions that produced the anthodites such that far fewer stalactites and stalagmites were formed? She’d have to do some research.
As they reached ground level once more…steps up from cavern level were steep…they went into the gift shop, as usual, and Michele picked up a ball cap and a couple of T-shirts. The t-shirts went into a bag, she put the ball cap on her head. It was extremely cool – a bat with a wing and body on the bill of the cap, the other wing rising up onto the face…and the colors were complimentary -- a brown bat on a dark blue cap.
As they walked out of the gift shop, Michele’s eyes wandered over the people waiting to enter the cave, and a cold chill suddenly ran through her. She recognized one of the men…it was the false Mr. Largo, who had precipitated her abandonment of her Taran Tula persona four weeks ago.
Her face remained expressionless as her eyes passed over him and both she and Fitz walked past. She knew that she looked 100 pounds thinner now – especially since she was wearing a t-shirt tucked into her cargo shorts, which showed off her flat stomach, and her face had a completely different shape without the cheek pads she’d worn to further give the illusion of overweight. Not to mention she was wearing a ball cap that hid her hair – which was a different shade and a different style, anyway. There was no way he could recognize her.
But what was he doing here?
Well…it had to be a coincidence. Even if he was searching for Taran Tula, and connected her to Michele Bravo – but how in hell could he have done that? – he wouldn’t have tried to track her down at this cave!
She glanced back, and saw his back heading into the entrance to the cave, along with several other people. Whatever he was doing there, he hadn’t recognized her.
Nevertheless…
“Something wrong?” asked Fitz, as they reached the car. “You look lost in thought.”
Michele grimaced. “I was just thinking…there’s a loose end…one of my projects…I won’t bore you with the details…but I was just thinking, maybe I’d better cut it off.”
II.
Gus Keller walked towards the entrance to the caverns, after purchasing his ticket. His eyes wandered over the people emerging from the gift shop. Jeez, the cavern operators must make a ton of money on their overpriced souvenirs….hey, that girl was wearing a pretty cool cap, with bats on it..he’d have to pick up one of those on the way out…
He walked into the cavern followed by several others, including several children. Everyone was duly impressed by the awe-inspiring rock formations.
Bat cap on head, Keller returned to his car and thence to his hotel room. So, okay, it had not been an entirely wasted trip. That cavern had been pretty impressive. But now was the time to utilize a little patience and common sense. He would stake out Michele Bravo’s home, and wait for her there….like a spider waiting for a fly.
III.
That evening, Fitz and Michele lay in bed, watching the Sci Fi Channel. Or SyFy channel, as it was now known. It was one of those SyFy channel-produced TV movies, with prehistoric creatures wreaking havoc on modern day campers, complete with bad CGI, bad actors except for the one “name” actor who hopefully had been paid a great deal to lend his name to the drek, bad dialog, and a ludicrous plot. They were watching it somewhat in disbelief, just to see how bad it could actually be.
When the commercials came on, Michele muted them with the remote.
“From TV drek to movie drek,” Michele murmured, as a commercial for the new hit movie Twilight – Eclipse, came on. “I’m really tired of this vampire craze…”
“What’s wrong with vampires?” asked Fitz. “I thought you liked that sort of thing.”
“Let me show you something,” Michele said, reaching for her laptop.
She went to YouTube, did a search on “Fright Night Club Scene,” and then played it.
“Now, that is a sexy vampire,” she said, indicating the sweat-shirt clad Chris Sarandon, portraying Jerry Dandridge, entering a smoky nightclub and seeking out his quarry, the movie hero’s girlfriend, Amy. He proceeded to seduce her by a dance.
“Whew,” said Fitz, after the six minute clip was over. “That was hot. Or hawt, as the kids today say.”
He got up on his knees and looked down at her recumbent form.
“We should learn to dance like that,” he said.
She grinned up at him. “I’d like that.”
“But for now….”
Fitz slipped out of his underwear, and Michele propped several pillows behind her head, so that she was laying down but her head and torso were slightly elevated. Fitz straddled her on his knees, and his erect cock rubbed against her face.
Michele licked her lips and then licked out at his cock. He pressed it forward, into her mouth, and she accepted it, relaxing, sealing her lips around it. She gazed up at him as he began, very gently, to thrust his cock into her mouth, as far into her mouth and throat as she cared to accept it. He looked down at her, smiling his appreciation, then as those little tendrils of pleasure began to coil in his thighs he licked his own lips, and his torso shuddered a bit.
Michele enjoyed the look of bliss on his face as she pleasured him, and when he came she swallowed his cum.
He unstraddled her and lay back. “Mmmmm, that was nice.”
“Now do me,” she commanded, handing him her vibrator.
He scooched closer to her, lying his body next to hers, turned the vibrator on and placed it between her legs. He knew exactly how she liked it – she’d shown him, long ago, and it was his turn to watch her face as she lay back, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the warm, cylindrical piece of metal on her clitoris. He rubbed it back and forth, up and down, in circular motions, always nice and slow.
Her eyes opened wide as she felt herself about to cum, and she tilted her chin upward and grimaced with the pleasure of it…again and again…
IV.
As she drifted asleep, Michele was doubly satisfied. She had intended her next erotic adventure for Dighton & Forrest to have been a recreation of Eve Marie Saint and Cary Grant’s North by Northwest action on Mount Rushmore…but there was no denying that the steaming heat of “Jerry Dandridge” and “Amy Peterson” was indeed so very, very hot…so hot that sometimes she actually watched that scene while pleasuring herself as a sort of mental stimulation -- better than porn any day ....perhaps she’d give her readers a dose of vampire sex next…
Michele Bravo pulled on her cargo shorts. They felt a bit tight, and she swore. This is what came of two weeks of travelling, with no biking or other exercise (so much for sex being a great form of exercise), and perhaps more egregiously, having hot chocolate sundaes for dessert after lunch as well as after dinner.
Well, she’d still been in the need for comfort food after the shock of the false Mr. Largo. And now he’d shown up again. By rights she should treat herself to a peanut buster parfait, but she’d have to resist. And tomorrow she’d have to buy a collapsible bike so she could get in some exercise during the rest of this trip. She was also a member of a health club chain that was supposed to have outlets everywhere…she’d better start looking for those, too, so she could get in a little swimming and a little weight training. She’d been allowing herself to slack off for too long.
Well, hell, she thought. She’d just got handed another shock – a worse one – the false Mr. Largo might know her identity – her real identity – as Michele Bravo. If that didn’t call for comfort food nothing would. She’d go have that buster bar parfait and give up on her desserts for lunch starting tomorrow.
“Feel like a Dairy Queen, Fitz?” she asked. “My treat.”
Fitz looked up from his computer. “No thanks. Are you having ice cream cravings?”
“Yes…I’ll be gone for half an hour or so.”
“Take your time. I’ve got to take notes on this documentary.”
“Okay. Later.”
Michele spent the time at the DQ savoring her parfait and trying to come up with a plan to discover what was going on with the false Mr. Largo.
She repeated to herself her belief that no secret agent bent on tracking down the “infamous Taran Tula” would just come to the Endless Caverns in the hopes of accidently seeing her. If he had been reading her blog…and he must have done so, he would have known she was going there, but not the time of day or anything like that. Why, if he knew Taran Tula was actually Michele Bravo, even go to the caverns at all? Why not stake out her apartment?
Michele took out a pocket notebook and made some notes. Their next stop was the Shenandoah Caverns. What if she were to mention that in her blog…and give the time of day – having some plausible reason for going into that much detail, of course – that she’d be there. Then, if she saw the false Mr. Largo again, she’d know that he had in actual fact been following her.
In one sense she hated to do it. If there was any kind of confrontation, she could hardly dispatch the false Mr. Largo with Fitz as a witness. And she didn’t know the terrain surrounding Shenandoah Caverns…if she needed to make a quick getaway she wouldn’t be able to do it…
No.
What she would do would be to post an entry that she’d been called home unexpectedly. So if the false Mr. Largo were following her, he’d go stake out her apartment to wait for her return. Meanwhile, she’d continue her cavernous adventures…her main writing was going into the magazine, anyway, not the blog…
But how to find out if the false Mr. Largo were staking out her apartment?
Easy. She was the head of Spindrift Security, after all. She’d put one of her operatives on her apartment, with instructions to find out if anyone else were watching it. And if anyone else was…find out – discreetly – who he was and who he worked for.
She’d draw up a likeness of the false Mr. Largo and send it along, to give her operative a heads up, but if the false Mr. Largo were working for the police or some other law enforcement agency, chances were they’d have half a dozen agents staked out around her place.
Finishing her peanut buster parfait and her plan at the same time, Michele sighed and got up. She’d make her sketch, then send an email later on tonight, setting things in motion. Then, there’d be nothing to do but wait.
Michele and Fitz walked quietly through Endless Caverns, impressed by the sheer beauty of it. Michele hadn’t known what to expect, after the let-down of the Skyline Caverns, but the Endless Caverns lived up to their billing. It was just as impressive as Luray Caverns had been. Gigantic stalactites and stalagmites were on display here…hundreds of them. Michele regretted now that she hadn’t taken her Skyline Tour Guide aside and asked him what had happened to all the stalactites there…why there were only a handful. Was Skyline so much younger that only a few stalactites had formed, had they all been broken off for some reason…or were the conditions that produced the anthodites such that far fewer stalactites and stalagmites were formed? She’d have to do some research.
As they reached ground level once more…steps up from cavern level were steep…they went into the gift shop, as usual, and Michele picked up a ball cap and a couple of T-shirts. The t-shirts went into a bag, she put the ball cap on her head. It was extremely cool – a bat with a wing and body on the bill of the cap, the other wing rising up onto the face…and the colors were complimentary -- a brown bat on a dark blue cap.
As they walked out of the gift shop, Michele’s eyes wandered over the people waiting to enter the cave, and a cold chill suddenly ran through her. She recognized one of the men…it was the false Mr. Largo, who had precipitated her abandonment of her Taran Tula persona four weeks ago.
Her face remained expressionless as her eyes passed over him and both she and Fitz walked past. She knew that she looked 100 pounds thinner now – especially since she was wearing a t-shirt tucked into her cargo shorts, which showed off her flat stomach, and her face had a completely different shape without the cheek pads she’d worn to further give the illusion of overweight. Not to mention she was wearing a ball cap that hid her hair – which was a different shade and a different style, anyway. There was no way he could recognize her.
But what was he doing here?
Well…it had to be a coincidence. Even if he was searching for Taran Tula, and connected her to Michele Bravo – but how in hell could he have done that? – he wouldn’t have tried to track her down at this cave!
She glanced back, and saw his back heading into the entrance to the cave, along with several other people. Whatever he was doing there, he hadn’t recognized her.
Nevertheless…
“Something wrong?” asked Fitz, as they reached the car. “You look lost in thought.”
Michele grimaced. “I was just thinking…there’s a loose end…one of my projects…I won’t bore you with the details…but I was just thinking, maybe I’d better cut it off.”
II.
Gus Keller walked towards the entrance to the caverns, after purchasing his ticket. His eyes wandered over the people emerging from the gift shop. Jeez, the cavern operators must make a ton of money on their overpriced souvenirs….hey, that girl was wearing a pretty cool cap, with bats on it..he’d have to pick up one of those on the way out…
He walked into the cavern followed by several others, including several children. Everyone was duly impressed by the awe-inspiring rock formations.
Bat cap on head, Keller returned to his car and thence to his hotel room. So, okay, it had not been an entirely wasted trip. That cavern had been pretty impressive. But now was the time to utilize a little patience and common sense. He would stake out Michele Bravo’s home, and wait for her there….like a spider waiting for a fly.
III.
That evening, Fitz and Michele lay in bed, watching the Sci Fi Channel. Or SyFy channel, as it was now known. It was one of those SyFy channel-produced TV movies, with prehistoric creatures wreaking havoc on modern day campers, complete with bad CGI, bad actors except for the one “name” actor who hopefully had been paid a great deal to lend his name to the drek, bad dialog, and a ludicrous plot. They were watching it somewhat in disbelief, just to see how bad it could actually be.
When the commercials came on, Michele muted them with the remote.
“From TV drek to movie drek,” Michele murmured, as a commercial for the new hit movie Twilight – Eclipse, came on. “I’m really tired of this vampire craze…”
“What’s wrong with vampires?” asked Fitz. “I thought you liked that sort of thing.”
“Let me show you something,” Michele said, reaching for her laptop.
She went to YouTube, did a search on “Fright Night Club Scene,” and then played it.
“Now, that is a sexy vampire,” she said, indicating the sweat-shirt clad Chris Sarandon, portraying Jerry Dandridge, entering a smoky nightclub and seeking out his quarry, the movie hero’s girlfriend, Amy. He proceeded to seduce her by a dance.
“Whew,” said Fitz, after the six minute clip was over. “That was hot. Or hawt, as the kids today say.”
He got up on his knees and looked down at her recumbent form.
“We should learn to dance like that,” he said.
She grinned up at him. “I’d like that.”
“But for now….”
Fitz slipped out of his underwear, and Michele propped several pillows behind her head, so that she was laying down but her head and torso were slightly elevated. Fitz straddled her on his knees, and his erect cock rubbed against her face.
Michele licked her lips and then licked out at his cock. He pressed it forward, into her mouth, and she accepted it, relaxing, sealing her lips around it. She gazed up at him as he began, very gently, to thrust his cock into her mouth, as far into her mouth and throat as she cared to accept it. He looked down at her, smiling his appreciation, then as those little tendrils of pleasure began to coil in his thighs he licked his own lips, and his torso shuddered a bit.
Michele enjoyed the look of bliss on his face as she pleasured him, and when he came she swallowed his cum.
He unstraddled her and lay back. “Mmmmm, that was nice.”
“Now do me,” she commanded, handing him her vibrator.
He scooched closer to her, lying his body next to hers, turned the vibrator on and placed it between her legs. He knew exactly how she liked it – she’d shown him, long ago, and it was his turn to watch her face as she lay back, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the warm, cylindrical piece of metal on her clitoris. He rubbed it back and forth, up and down, in circular motions, always nice and slow.
Her eyes opened wide as she felt herself about to cum, and she tilted her chin upward and grimaced with the pleasure of it…again and again…
IV.
As she drifted asleep, Michele was doubly satisfied. She had intended her next erotic adventure for Dighton & Forrest to have been a recreation of Eve Marie Saint and Cary Grant’s North by Northwest action on Mount Rushmore…but there was no denying that the steaming heat of “Jerry Dandridge” and “Amy Peterson” was indeed so very, very hot…so hot that sometimes she actually watched that scene while pleasuring herself as a sort of mental stimulation -- better than porn any day ....perhaps she’d give her readers a dose of vampire sex next…
Michele Bravo pulled on her cargo shorts. They felt a bit tight, and she swore. This is what came of two weeks of travelling, with no biking or other exercise (so much for sex being a great form of exercise), and perhaps more egregiously, having hot chocolate sundaes for dessert after lunch as well as after dinner.
Well, she’d still been in the need for comfort food after the shock of the false Mr. Largo. And now he’d shown up again. By rights she should treat herself to a peanut buster parfait, but she’d have to resist. And tomorrow she’d have to buy a collapsible bike so she could get in some exercise during the rest of this trip. She was also a member of a health club chain that was supposed to have outlets everywhere…she’d better start looking for those, too, so she could get in a little swimming and a little weight training. She’d been allowing herself to slack off for too long.
Well, hell, she thought. She’d just got handed another shock – a worse one – the false Mr. Largo might know her identity – her real identity – as Michele Bravo. If that didn’t call for comfort food nothing would. She’d go have that buster bar parfait and give up on her desserts for lunch starting tomorrow.
“Feel like a Dairy Queen, Fitz?” she asked. “My treat.”
Fitz looked up from his computer. “No thanks. Are you having ice cream cravings?”
“Yes…I’ll be gone for half an hour or so.”
“Take your time. I’ve got to take notes on this documentary.”
“Okay. Later.”
Michele spent the time at the DQ savoring her parfait and trying to come up with a plan to discover what was going on with the false Mr. Largo.
She repeated to herself her belief that no secret agent bent on tracking down the “infamous Taran Tula” would just come to the Endless Caverns in the hopes of accidently seeing her. If he had been reading her blog…and he must have done so, he would have known she was going there, but not the time of day or anything like that. Why, if he knew Taran Tula was actually Michele Bravo, even go to the caverns at all? Why not stake out her apartment?
Michele took out a pocket notebook and made some notes. Their next stop was the Shenandoah Caverns. What if she were to mention that in her blog…and give the time of day – having some plausible reason for going into that much detail, of course – that she’d be there. Then, if she saw the false Mr. Largo again, she’d know that he had in actual fact been following her.
In one sense she hated to do it. If there was any kind of confrontation, she could hardly dispatch the false Mr. Largo with Fitz as a witness. And she didn’t know the terrain surrounding Shenandoah Caverns…if she needed to make a quick getaway she wouldn’t be able to do it…
No.
What she would do would be to post an entry that she’d been called home unexpectedly. So if the false Mr. Largo were following her, he’d go stake out her apartment to wait for her return. Meanwhile, she’d continue her cavernous adventures…her main writing was going into the magazine, anyway, not the blog…
But how to find out if the false Mr. Largo were staking out her apartment?
Easy. She was the head of Spindrift Security, after all. She’d put one of her operatives on her apartment, with instructions to find out if anyone else were watching it. And if anyone else was…find out – discreetly – who he was and who he worked for.
She’d draw up a likeness of the false Mr. Largo and send it along, to give her operative a heads up, but if the false Mr. Largo were working for the police or some other law enforcement agency, chances were they’d have half a dozen agents staked out around her place.
Finishing her peanut buster parfait and her plan at the same time, Michele sighed and got up. She’d make her sketch, then send an email later on tonight, setting things in motion. Then, there’d be nothing to do but wait.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Hall of the Mountain King Ch 11
I.
The Endless Caverns, just 3 miles south of New Market, Virginia, are so named because even now, 131 years after their discovery in 1879, it is not known how far underground the caverns extend. They have been mapped for over six miles, and periodically expeditions set out to try to find tunnels leading into other rooms.
Before taking the guided tour of the caverns, which they knew would not extend for the whole six miles (most show caves show only about 20% of the cavern system in question), Michele and Fitz walked around New Market.
New Market is a small town, of only a little over 2,000 people. Despite that, they have two baseball teams -- a collegiate summer league team called the Rebels, and a summer baseball league team called the Shockers.
Michele was more interested in its Civil War connections.
On May 15, 1864, the Battle of New Market took place, one of the battles in the Valley Campaigns of 1864 – General Grant’s campaigns to bring pressure on the Confederate armies in the Shenandoah Valley.
Confederate General John C. Breckinridge, desperate for men, summoned students from VMI (the Virginia Military Institute) to help. Over half of those who answered the call (257 men) were “rats,” first year students. They joined Breckinridge’s army of 4,500 veterans. Breckinridge had originally only intended to use them as a reserve, but when the situation became desperate he “sent the boys in,” and the cadets did as ordered, and were instrumental in chasing Union General Franz Sigel and his army out of the Shenandoah Valley.
Fitz and Michele walked through the Hall of Valor, then joined a guided tour of the battlefield, in particular the “field of lost shoes,” no longer muddy, but where, back in 1864, the rats had charged to set the Union soldiers to flight, and the cadet's shoes had been sucked off by the thick mud through which they had slogged onthat rainy day.
Five of the cadets died that day, five died within three months from wounds received during the battle, and forty-eight others were wounded…but the Confederacy survived for another day.
“Too bad I didn’t get this idea a month ago,” Michele mused, nodding at an old poster in the visitor’s center. Just a month earlier, in May, the Battle of New Market had been re-enacted.
“There’s re-enactments going on all the time,” said Fitz, “somewhere.”
Michele grinned at him. “What a very helpful comment, Fitz,” she said. “I’ll have to do some research when we get back to our B&B. The Gettysburg re-enactment, I know they do that one every year…”
Fitz stopped and stared at her.
“What,” she demanded.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to tell you, that’s already been, too. Just a couple of weeks ago. July 1st, 2nd and 3rd. That’s because…”
“I know, I know,” moaned Michele, clutching her head. “That’s when the actual battle took place, so of course they do it on those days. And it never even occurred to me. Damn, damn and day-um.”
“There’s always next year. Give you an excuse to come back.”
Michele grinned. “As if I needed an excuse.” He bent down and kissed her briefly.
Then she sighed. “Well, let’s go take a look at Endless Caverns, and after that, that farm, Cooper Farm.”
“Okay.”
II.
Gus Keller stood outside the entrance building to the Endless Caverns, cursing himself for a fool.
He really hadn’t thought this through, he thought to himself. He’d been so anxious to see Taran Tula again that he’d picked up sticks and come here….but to what end? Was he going to hover around the cavern entrance all day long? That’d be a waste of time. Should he check out the B&Bs around New Market, ask if there was a Michele Bravo staying there? But what a waste of time, if she’d decided to stay in a nearby town.
He didn’t even know if she was really in the town! Perhaps she was timeslipping her blog, publishing the daily entries a week or so late, so as to avoid any fans trying to meet her. So even though she was writing about her visits as if they were happening that very day, they might very well have actually happened a week…even two weeks in the past. Even travel bloggers might have groupies who need to be circumvented.
No, he hadn’t thought this through.
What he should have done, Keller thought, was just to get the address of this particular Michele Bravo, and then camp outside her house or her apartment, or whatever it might be. That was a place she’d be returning to eventually!
Keller took a deep drag on his cigarette and smiled ruefully. He’d just really, really wanted to meet her today, end the suspense quickly…he felt like a teenager with his first crush.
“Hell with it,” he murmured, carefully stubbing out his cigarette and then throwing it into a garbage can. “As long as I’m here, he thought, “I’ll go through the caverns. They might be interesting.”
The Endless Caverns, just 3 miles south of New Market, Virginia, are so named because even now, 131 years after their discovery in 1879, it is not known how far underground the caverns extend. They have been mapped for over six miles, and periodically expeditions set out to try to find tunnels leading into other rooms.
Before taking the guided tour of the caverns, which they knew would not extend for the whole six miles (most show caves show only about 20% of the cavern system in question), Michele and Fitz walked around New Market.
New Market is a small town, of only a little over 2,000 people. Despite that, they have two baseball teams -- a collegiate summer league team called the Rebels, and a summer baseball league team called the Shockers.
Michele was more interested in its Civil War connections.
On May 15, 1864, the Battle of New Market took place, one of the battles in the Valley Campaigns of 1864 – General Grant’s campaigns to bring pressure on the Confederate armies in the Shenandoah Valley.
Confederate General John C. Breckinridge, desperate for men, summoned students from VMI (the Virginia Military Institute) to help. Over half of those who answered the call (257 men) were “rats,” first year students. They joined Breckinridge’s army of 4,500 veterans. Breckinridge had originally only intended to use them as a reserve, but when the situation became desperate he “sent the boys in,” and the cadets did as ordered, and were instrumental in chasing Union General Franz Sigel and his army out of the Shenandoah Valley.
Fitz and Michele walked through the Hall of Valor, then joined a guided tour of the battlefield, in particular the “field of lost shoes,” no longer muddy, but where, back in 1864, the rats had charged to set the Union soldiers to flight, and the cadet's shoes had been sucked off by the thick mud through which they had slogged onthat rainy day.
Five of the cadets died that day, five died within three months from wounds received during the battle, and forty-eight others were wounded…but the Confederacy survived for another day.
“Too bad I didn’t get this idea a month ago,” Michele mused, nodding at an old poster in the visitor’s center. Just a month earlier, in May, the Battle of New Market had been re-enacted.
“There’s re-enactments going on all the time,” said Fitz, “somewhere.”
Michele grinned at him. “What a very helpful comment, Fitz,” she said. “I’ll have to do some research when we get back to our B&B. The Gettysburg re-enactment, I know they do that one every year…”
Fitz stopped and stared at her.
“What,” she demanded.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to tell you, that’s already been, too. Just a couple of weeks ago. July 1st, 2nd and 3rd. That’s because…”
“I know, I know,” moaned Michele, clutching her head. “That’s when the actual battle took place, so of course they do it on those days. And it never even occurred to me. Damn, damn and day-um.”
“There’s always next year. Give you an excuse to come back.”
Michele grinned. “As if I needed an excuse.” He bent down and kissed her briefly.
Then she sighed. “Well, let’s go take a look at Endless Caverns, and after that, that farm, Cooper Farm.”
“Okay.”
II.
Gus Keller stood outside the entrance building to the Endless Caverns, cursing himself for a fool.
He really hadn’t thought this through, he thought to himself. He’d been so anxious to see Taran Tula again that he’d picked up sticks and come here….but to what end? Was he going to hover around the cavern entrance all day long? That’d be a waste of time. Should he check out the B&Bs around New Market, ask if there was a Michele Bravo staying there? But what a waste of time, if she’d decided to stay in a nearby town.
He didn’t even know if she was really in the town! Perhaps she was timeslipping her blog, publishing the daily entries a week or so late, so as to avoid any fans trying to meet her. So even though she was writing about her visits as if they were happening that very day, they might very well have actually happened a week…even two weeks in the past. Even travel bloggers might have groupies who need to be circumvented.
No, he hadn’t thought this through.
What he should have done, Keller thought, was just to get the address of this particular Michele Bravo, and then camp outside her house or her apartment, or whatever it might be. That was a place she’d be returning to eventually!
Keller took a deep drag on his cigarette and smiled ruefully. He’d just really, really wanted to meet her today, end the suspense quickly…he felt like a teenager with his first crush.
“Hell with it,” he murmured, carefully stubbing out his cigarette and then throwing it into a garbage can. “As long as I’m here, he thought, “I’ll go through the caverns. They might be interesting.”
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Hall of the Mountain King ch 10
I.
Five days ago, Gus Keller, the Special Crimes Investigation Bureau (SCIB) investigator, had received a list of five women who might…or might not…match the partial thumbprint that he had rescued from the spoon Taran Tula had been using to eat a hot fudge sundae.
That list was as follows:
1. Michele Bravo – fingerprinted as a child as a military family member
2. Amanda Cooper – arrested for shoplifting
3. Rita Ellison – an employee of a defunct civilian military contractor. She’d been fingerprinted when she’d applied for a top secret clearance
4. Sophia Sanchez – a sergeant in the US Army
5. Debbie Morgan – an employee of a current civilian contractor to the military
He had elected to start with Michele Bravo.
He had begun his search on the web, conducting a search via Google. He knew the parameters – someone who had been a “military” brat, lived in Germany, and was 30 years old.
Interestingly, there were only a half dozen Michele Bravos to be found. One of them wrote erotica, another was a travel writer for an online webzine. Gus clicked on that link, and was brought to the website GhostGuns.com.
This was the woman’s profile page, complete with a brief biography and a photo. The photo was a three quarters shot of a woman, dressed in fencer’s garb. She was standing side on to the viewer, with her head turned to face front, in a pose Keller thought looked rather sexy. She had long blond hair, a narrow face with a pointy chin, and no breasts to speak of on a slender torso. She definitely wasn’t the Taran Tula he’d seen, even if she’d put on a hundred pounds.
He read her bio – she had indeed been a military brat…she was the Michele Bravo of the fingerprint….just not his Michele Bravo.
He passed on to the next woman on the list, Amanda Cooper. He found it difficult to believe that a woman of Taran Tula’s abilities would ever have been caught shoplifting, but one never knew…
II.
Three days later, Keller had completed the list, and none of the women looked even remotely like Taran Tula. He’d found photos of a couple of the women on the web, and he’d had to visit three of them, in person, tracking them down to their last known address.
Keller relaxed in his hotel room after his last failed trip.
It didn’t make sense. One of those five women had to be Taran Tula.
Keller rubbed his eyes, trying to think.
Then, he powered up his computer and returned to the website of his first choice, Michele Bravo. He stared once again at the photo. It was clearly a publicity photo, not something casual. What if…what if that photo wasn’t of Michele Bravo at all? He’d heard they did that sometimes, these internet writers. They used some headshot other than their own to maintain their anonymity.
So…he’d better go see this Michele Bravo in person, just to make sure.
He looked at the webpage with closer attention. There was a link on the page to a blog. He clicked on it.
The blog was being updated every day…the woman was visiting caverns in Northern Virginia. And she’d be going to the Endless Caverns the next day.
Keller looked at his watch, then pulled up directions on the computer. If he left now, he could drive to this New Market, Virginia place in just a few hours…he’d be there by noon, certainly.
Keller nodded sharply. He threw his clothes back into his suitcase, packed up his laptop, checked out of the hotel, and hit the road.
Five days ago, Gus Keller, the Special Crimes Investigation Bureau (SCIB) investigator, had received a list of five women who might…or might not…match the partial thumbprint that he had rescued from the spoon Taran Tula had been using to eat a hot fudge sundae.
That list was as follows:
1. Michele Bravo – fingerprinted as a child as a military family member
2. Amanda Cooper – arrested for shoplifting
3. Rita Ellison – an employee of a defunct civilian military contractor. She’d been fingerprinted when she’d applied for a top secret clearance
4. Sophia Sanchez – a sergeant in the US Army
5. Debbie Morgan – an employee of a current civilian contractor to the military
He had elected to start with Michele Bravo.
He had begun his search on the web, conducting a search via Google. He knew the parameters – someone who had been a “military” brat, lived in Germany, and was 30 years old.
Interestingly, there were only a half dozen Michele Bravos to be found. One of them wrote erotica, another was a travel writer for an online webzine. Gus clicked on that link, and was brought to the website GhostGuns.com.
This was the woman’s profile page, complete with a brief biography and a photo. The photo was a three quarters shot of a woman, dressed in fencer’s garb. She was standing side on to the viewer, with her head turned to face front, in a pose Keller thought looked rather sexy. She had long blond hair, a narrow face with a pointy chin, and no breasts to speak of on a slender torso. She definitely wasn’t the Taran Tula he’d seen, even if she’d put on a hundred pounds.
He read her bio – she had indeed been a military brat…she was the Michele Bravo of the fingerprint….just not his Michele Bravo.
He passed on to the next woman on the list, Amanda Cooper. He found it difficult to believe that a woman of Taran Tula’s abilities would ever have been caught shoplifting, but one never knew…
II.
Three days later, Keller had completed the list, and none of the women looked even remotely like Taran Tula. He’d found photos of a couple of the women on the web, and he’d had to visit three of them, in person, tracking them down to their last known address.
Keller relaxed in his hotel room after his last failed trip.
It didn’t make sense. One of those five women had to be Taran Tula.
Keller rubbed his eyes, trying to think.
Then, he powered up his computer and returned to the website of his first choice, Michele Bravo. He stared once again at the photo. It was clearly a publicity photo, not something casual. What if…what if that photo wasn’t of Michele Bravo at all? He’d heard they did that sometimes, these internet writers. They used some headshot other than their own to maintain their anonymity.
So…he’d better go see this Michele Bravo in person, just to make sure.
He looked at the webpage with closer attention. There was a link on the page to a blog. He clicked on it.
The blog was being updated every day…the woman was visiting caverns in Northern Virginia. And she’d be going to the Endless Caverns the next day.
Keller looked at his watch, then pulled up directions on the computer. If he left now, he could drive to this New Market, Virginia place in just a few hours…he’d be there by noon, certainly.
Keller nodded sharply. He threw his clothes back into his suitcase, packed up his laptop, checked out of the hotel, and hit the road.
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