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.
Showing posts with label Mountain King. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mountain King. Show all posts
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, Ch 12
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 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…
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Michele Bravo in the 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.”
Friday, July 9, 2010
Michele Bravo in the 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.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, ch 9
I.
Pete nodded, and took her hand as they walked out of the store. “Okay.”
Michele Bravo finished typing the last sentence, then saved the file and closed her word processing program. She still had another chapter to go in the opening story of the new erotica series which she had just conceived, which she was cleverly calling Dighton & Forrest (Dighton & Forrest being the murderers in Shakespeare’s play, Richard III) but she was feeling tired and the creative muse was leaving her. Not to mention, she always felt horny after writing the climax portion of her erotic stories, and she wanted to save that for the next night, too!
She switched off her laptop and placed it on the night table.
“Night, Fitz.”
Fitz, still engrossed in Lace Making Through the Images, gave her a smile. Michele turned on her side and slithered down under the covers until she reached a comfortable spot. Seconds later she was asleep.
II.
The next day, Michele and Fitz bade Front Royal and its environs farewell and drove the 30 odd miles to Luray, where they found and checked into another Bed and Breakfast. Then they visited the Luray Caverns.
Unlike the Skyline Caverns, the tour of the Luray Caverns was self-directed – they were given headsets and little digital tape recorders and sent on their way.
“Wow…” said Michele as they walked along. “Just…wow.”
The Skyline Caverns had had hardly any stalactites and stalagmites…one or two. The Luray Caverns were full of them, as well as plenty of “draperies,” and a very large mirror lake…twice as large as the one at Skyline. The caverns were more impressive in every way. The only thing the Skyline Caverns had that Luray didn’t were the anthodites.
Fitz nodded. “Now, this is a cavern,” he pointed out.
But there was more. The cost of admission included entrance to the adjacent Car and Carriage Caravan Museum, with over two-dozen ancient cars, from a Model T to a Stanley Steamer to a Black Maria to a Franklin to a Bugatti. Fitz, a car lover, looked over each of the exhibits avidly. Michele, more interested in history, was fascinated by how the car designs changed over time, until she got to the Rolls Royce 1925 Silver Ghost town car, with which she fell in love. It had once belonged to Rudolph Valentino and had a faux-alligator paint job that looked absolutely gorgeous.
After they were through with the caverns, Fitz and Michele wandered around the town of Luray. Michele snapped photos, and they wandered into a few antique stores. In one of these antique stores, Michele’s eye was caught by a poster on a community message board by the front door.
HELP SAVE OUR BATTLEFIELD! ran the headline.
The gist of the poster was that the owners of Cooper Farm, in a town near New Market, were holding an ice cream social that weekend to raise money to fund their bid to save their land. A huge chain store wanted to buy their property to put up a store, and the local government was threatening to use eminent domain to seize it. A store would bring in more tax revenue than their farm…never mind the fact that the farm had been in the Cooper family since the early 1800s. But they had recently come across some Civil War artifacts – a few rifles, a cannon ball, and some bones, on their property, which led them to believe some battle…or more likely a skirmish, had taken place on their land. They were hoping that that historical significance might be enough to save their land, but they needed to conduct research and that was going to take time, more time than the town fathers were prepared to give them.
“Well, isn’t that just a kick in the butt,” said Michele. “I hate this eminent domain crap. That shouldn’t be allowed to happen in the US of A.”
Fitz shrugged. “They’re fighting a losing battle. When it comes to taxes, what the government wants the government gets.”
“Yes…well, since we’re not going to be here this weekend, let’s stop in there tomorrow on our way to the next cavern on our list, okay? I’ll interview them, give a little publicity to their plight…”
“Sure,” said Fitz.
“In the meantime…speaking of ice cream…wasn’t there an ice cream parlor across the street?”
III.
That evening, Fitz and Michele once more assumed their positions – sitting up in bed, laptops on bellies. Michele was again was watching The Thin Man – the sequel this time After the Thin Man, and working on the second chapter of her first Dighton & Forrest story.
Fitz had moved on from a documentary on lace making to one on the Mayan calendar.
And tomorrow…New Market and Endless Caverns.
Pete nodded, and took her hand as they walked out of the store. “Okay.”
Michele Bravo finished typing the last sentence, then saved the file and closed her word processing program. She still had another chapter to go in the opening story of the new erotica series which she had just conceived, which she was cleverly calling Dighton & Forrest (Dighton & Forrest being the murderers in Shakespeare’s play, Richard III) but she was feeling tired and the creative muse was leaving her. Not to mention, she always felt horny after writing the climax portion of her erotic stories, and she wanted to save that for the next night, too!
She switched off her laptop and placed it on the night table.
“Night, Fitz.”
Fitz, still engrossed in Lace Making Through the Images, gave her a smile. Michele turned on her side and slithered down under the covers until she reached a comfortable spot. Seconds later she was asleep.
II.
The next day, Michele and Fitz bade Front Royal and its environs farewell and drove the 30 odd miles to Luray, where they found and checked into another Bed and Breakfast. Then they visited the Luray Caverns.
Unlike the Skyline Caverns, the tour of the Luray Caverns was self-directed – they were given headsets and little digital tape recorders and sent on their way.
“Wow…” said Michele as they walked along. “Just…wow.”
The Skyline Caverns had had hardly any stalactites and stalagmites…one or two. The Luray Caverns were full of them, as well as plenty of “draperies,” and a very large mirror lake…twice as large as the one at Skyline. The caverns were more impressive in every way. The only thing the Skyline Caverns had that Luray didn’t were the anthodites.
Fitz nodded. “Now, this is a cavern,” he pointed out.
But there was more. The cost of admission included entrance to the adjacent Car and Carriage Caravan Museum, with over two-dozen ancient cars, from a Model T to a Stanley Steamer to a Black Maria to a Franklin to a Bugatti. Fitz, a car lover, looked over each of the exhibits avidly. Michele, more interested in history, was fascinated by how the car designs changed over time, until she got to the Rolls Royce 1925 Silver Ghost town car, with which she fell in love. It had once belonged to Rudolph Valentino and had a faux-alligator paint job that looked absolutely gorgeous.
After they were through with the caverns, Fitz and Michele wandered around the town of Luray. Michele snapped photos, and they wandered into a few antique stores. In one of these antique stores, Michele’s eye was caught by a poster on a community message board by the front door.
HELP SAVE OUR BATTLEFIELD! ran the headline.
The gist of the poster was that the owners of Cooper Farm, in a town near New Market, were holding an ice cream social that weekend to raise money to fund their bid to save their land. A huge chain store wanted to buy their property to put up a store, and the local government was threatening to use eminent domain to seize it. A store would bring in more tax revenue than their farm…never mind the fact that the farm had been in the Cooper family since the early 1800s. But they had recently come across some Civil War artifacts – a few rifles, a cannon ball, and some bones, on their property, which led them to believe some battle…or more likely a skirmish, had taken place on their land. They were hoping that that historical significance might be enough to save their land, but they needed to conduct research and that was going to take time, more time than the town fathers were prepared to give them.
“Well, isn’t that just a kick in the butt,” said Michele. “I hate this eminent domain crap. That shouldn’t be allowed to happen in the US of A.”
Fitz shrugged. “They’re fighting a losing battle. When it comes to taxes, what the government wants the government gets.”
“Yes…well, since we’re not going to be here this weekend, let’s stop in there tomorrow on our way to the next cavern on our list, okay? I’ll interview them, give a little publicity to their plight…”
“Sure,” said Fitz.
“In the meantime…speaking of ice cream…wasn’t there an ice cream parlor across the street?”
III.
That evening, Fitz and Michele once more assumed their positions – sitting up in bed, laptops on bellies. Michele was again was watching The Thin Man – the sequel this time After the Thin Man, and working on the second chapter of her first Dighton & Forrest story.
Fitz had moved on from a documentary on lace making to one on the Mayan calendar.
And tomorrow…New Market and Endless Caverns.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, ch 8
“Jeez Louise,” said Fitz as he peered at a traffic sign that seemed to have every highway in the world displayed on it – 6 across and 6 down, with various arrows pointing in the directions in which they could be found – except the one they wanted.
“Where the hell’s 340?” he said. He had no choice, there were cars behind him. He accelerated and went through the now green light and continued down the road.
“I didn’t see it,” Michele acknowledged, “but the sign we saw just before that one said 340 was in this direction. Didn’t it?”
“I sure thought it did,” said Fitz. “Oh, lookie, now we’ve got construction.”
“Drive on as far as the construction goes,” Michelle suggested, “and if we don’t come across 340 by that time, let’s turn around. We’ll grab some lunch at that KFC we just passed and find out where the hell we are.”
Fitz nodded. They did not come across 340, or a sign for it, let a sign pointing them toward the Skyline Caverns, which they would have accepted as well, so he did a U-turn as soon as the one-lane traffic caused by construction – well, caused by cones, there were no construction people in sight – petered out, and retraced their steps.
“You sure you want KFC?” he asked. “I thought we were only going to eat at local restaurants and cafes on this trip.”
“Except if we go in search of a local restaurant we may get even further lost,” said Michele. “Anyway, this is an emergency.”
Fitz grinned and they went inside.
It had started out all right. They’d been following the directions Michele had printed from Mapquest, and were within a few miles of the Skyline Caverns according to those directions. The caverns were adjacent to the town of Front Royal. Then she’d seen a sign advertising Front Royal’s Visitor Center, and decided she wanted to visit that first, to stock up on brochures. Fitz had obliging turned the car to follow the arrow.
She’d expected the Visitor's Center to be within a block or two of the sign, the way they normally were, but they ended up driving all the way into the middle of town, several times thinking they must have driven past it, before seeing another sign with an arrow urging them ever onward.
The Visitor’s Center was a large building, with one room given over to showing antiques, the other lined floor-to-ceiling with brochure racks. Michele had stocked up happily.
They’d also picked up a map of the town, an 11 X 17 sheet of paper with the map of the town in the center and lists of attractions, accommodations and restaurants bordering it on either side. Fitz now poured over this they ate their KFC.
“There sure are a lot of vineyards in this area,” he commented. “Any interest in seeing them?”
“Not really. I picked up their brochures…I’ll mention them in my articles, but I don't want to dwell on them. Civil war stuff and caverns, that’s the main point of this exercise.”
“Well, there’s Belle Boyd’s Cottage, and the Warren Rifles Confederate Museum,” Fitz said. “And here’s the Caverns.” He placed an index finger on them. “Now, where the heck are we? Ah..this is the road we’re on. Now I’ve got it.”
After a relaxing lunch which allowed them to ease their frustration, they got back on the road again.
“Many years ago,” mused Michele, “I visited my sister in England – she was living in Oxford at the time – and we decided to drive into Wales to see castles. I had a list of castles and the roads they were supposed to be on, but we didn’t bother to do much preparation because we figured there’d be signs everywhere. So we drove into these towns, and there’d be like one sign at the very entrance of the town, saying “Castle this way,” or something, and then we’d drive and drive and drive and never see another sign, until we’d driven clean through the town. Then we’d turn around and all of a sudden there were signs galore. We always assumed that the signs were situated for the convenience of people coming from London – since that’s where most tourists probably come from – and we of course were driving in from Oxford, where the locals presumably lived.”
They found Skyline Caverns with no further difficulty. Michele unlimbered her camera and began photo-taking outside, starting with the large sign luring people in from the road. It flanked a historical marker which stated:
Near here Stonewall Jackson
Was met by the spy Belle Boyd
And informed of the position
Of the Union troops at Front
Royal, May 23, 1862. Jackson
Was advancing northward, at-
tempting to get between Banks’
army and Winchester
They took the guided tour through the cavern. The main attraction was a formation that was unique to this cave – anthocites. No other cave in the world had this delicate, spiky, beautiful formation. After finishing with the caverns they took the miniature train ride, and then went through the Mirror Maze, an attraction strictly for small children, Michele concluded.
“Let’s check into a B&B here for the night,” Michele said. “And explore the rest of the town and surrounding area. In particular Belle Boyd's Cottage and that Confederate Museum. Then we can go on to Luray tomorrow. So, one cavern, and one town, a day.”
Fitz nodded. “You’re the boss.”
"I am," said Michele, smirking in her best imitation of Steve Ihnat's Garth of Izar from Star Trek. "I certainly am."
Late that evening, after Michele had downloaded and formatted all her photos and written outlines of the articles she'd write about what she'd seen, she relaxed in bed with Fitz. They both had their laptops on their knees and headsets over their ears. Fitz was watching a documentary on lacemaking through the ages, while Michele was simultaneously watching one of her favorite movies, The Thin Man (starring William Powell and Myrna Loy) and working on her next erotic story…
“Where the hell’s 340?” he said. He had no choice, there were cars behind him. He accelerated and went through the now green light and continued down the road.
“I didn’t see it,” Michele acknowledged, “but the sign we saw just before that one said 340 was in this direction. Didn’t it?”
“I sure thought it did,” said Fitz. “Oh, lookie, now we’ve got construction.”
“Drive on as far as the construction goes,” Michelle suggested, “and if we don’t come across 340 by that time, let’s turn around. We’ll grab some lunch at that KFC we just passed and find out where the hell we are.”
Fitz nodded. They did not come across 340, or a sign for it, let a sign pointing them toward the Skyline Caverns, which they would have accepted as well, so he did a U-turn as soon as the one-lane traffic caused by construction – well, caused by cones, there were no construction people in sight – petered out, and retraced their steps.
“You sure you want KFC?” he asked. “I thought we were only going to eat at local restaurants and cafes on this trip.”
“Except if we go in search of a local restaurant we may get even further lost,” said Michele. “Anyway, this is an emergency.”
Fitz grinned and they went inside.
It had started out all right. They’d been following the directions Michele had printed from Mapquest, and were within a few miles of the Skyline Caverns according to those directions. The caverns were adjacent to the town of Front Royal. Then she’d seen a sign advertising Front Royal’s Visitor Center, and decided she wanted to visit that first, to stock up on brochures. Fitz had obliging turned the car to follow the arrow.
She’d expected the Visitor's Center to be within a block or two of the sign, the way they normally were, but they ended up driving all the way into the middle of town, several times thinking they must have driven past it, before seeing another sign with an arrow urging them ever onward.
The Visitor’s Center was a large building, with one room given over to showing antiques, the other lined floor-to-ceiling with brochure racks. Michele had stocked up happily.
They’d also picked up a map of the town, an 11 X 17 sheet of paper with the map of the town in the center and lists of attractions, accommodations and restaurants bordering it on either side. Fitz now poured over this they ate their KFC.
“There sure are a lot of vineyards in this area,” he commented. “Any interest in seeing them?”
“Not really. I picked up their brochures…I’ll mention them in my articles, but I don't want to dwell on them. Civil war stuff and caverns, that’s the main point of this exercise.”
“Well, there’s Belle Boyd’s Cottage, and the Warren Rifles Confederate Museum,” Fitz said. “And here’s the Caverns.” He placed an index finger on them. “Now, where the heck are we? Ah..this is the road we’re on. Now I’ve got it.”
After a relaxing lunch which allowed them to ease their frustration, they got back on the road again.
“Many years ago,” mused Michele, “I visited my sister in England – she was living in Oxford at the time – and we decided to drive into Wales to see castles. I had a list of castles and the roads they were supposed to be on, but we didn’t bother to do much preparation because we figured there’d be signs everywhere. So we drove into these towns, and there’d be like one sign at the very entrance of the town, saying “Castle this way,” or something, and then we’d drive and drive and drive and never see another sign, until we’d driven clean through the town. Then we’d turn around and all of a sudden there were signs galore. We always assumed that the signs were situated for the convenience of people coming from London – since that’s where most tourists probably come from – and we of course were driving in from Oxford, where the locals presumably lived.”
They found Skyline Caverns with no further difficulty. Michele unlimbered her camera and began photo-taking outside, starting with the large sign luring people in from the road. It flanked a historical marker which stated:
Near here Stonewall Jackson
Was met by the spy Belle Boyd
And informed of the position
Of the Union troops at Front
Royal, May 23, 1862. Jackson
Was advancing northward, at-
tempting to get between Banks’
army and Winchester
They took the guided tour through the cavern. The main attraction was a formation that was unique to this cave – anthocites. No other cave in the world had this delicate, spiky, beautiful formation. After finishing with the caverns they took the miniature train ride, and then went through the Mirror Maze, an attraction strictly for small children, Michele concluded.
“Let’s check into a B&B here for the night,” Michele said. “And explore the rest of the town and surrounding area. In particular Belle Boyd's Cottage and that Confederate Museum. Then we can go on to Luray tomorrow. So, one cavern, and one town, a day.”
Fitz nodded. “You’re the boss.”
"I am," said Michele, smirking in her best imitation of Steve Ihnat's Garth of Izar from Star Trek. "I certainly am."
Late that evening, after Michele had downloaded and formatted all her photos and written outlines of the articles she'd write about what she'd seen, she relaxed in bed with Fitz. They both had their laptops on their knees and headsets over their ears. Fitz was watching a documentary on lacemaking through the ages, while Michele was simultaneously watching one of her favorite movies, The Thin Man (starring William Powell and Myrna Loy) and working on her next erotic story…
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, ch 7
Fredericksburg, Virginia is nestled along the Rappahannock River, with some beautiful views of the wilderness beyond, depending on where you lived. Fitz’s apartment was relatively small – a two bedroom, but it looked out over both the river and the historic district and cost him a pretty penny.
The city was located 50 miles south of Washington, D.C., and 58 miles north of Richmond, Virginia. A relatively small city – only about 20,000 people, it is a bedroom community – most of its inhabitants commute by car, bus or train to Arlington, Washington or Richmond.
Fitz was an archivist for the Smithsonian Institution, and he had asked a few favors in order to get the rest of the week off so he could travel with Michele through the limestone cavern country of Northern Virginia. He’d have his work cut out for him once he returned, but…. He rolled over in bed and looked at Michele’s sleeping form. It’d be worth it.
Fitz rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom, where he took a shower, shaved, brushed his teeth, and felt ready to face the day. When he came out, he found Michele up, dressed in the sleeveless grey t-shirt and men’s grey pajama bottoms that were her sleeping attire. She was seated in front of her laptop, busily printing out driving directions.
“Feel like breakfast?” he asked her.
“Scrambled eggs and sausage would be great,” she said.
“Eggs mixed with cheese and onion, right, and maple syrup for your sausage.”
“You’ve got a good memory, Fitz.”
“Of course.”
After printing out the final set of instructions, Michele walked into the kitchen and watched while Fitz busied himself with frying pans.
“I love your cooking,” she told him, giving him an appreciative hug, from the back of course so it wouldn’t distract his attention from the food.
“Thank you,” he said, “I love that you love my cooking.”
After breakfast, Michele did her part, loading the dishwasher and getting it started.
“Do you want to wait until these are done, or are we ready to start now?” she asked.
“Sure, let’s head on out.”
Five minutes later, suitcases were stowed in the trunk of Michele’s car, and they set out for their first destination, Skyline Caverns, Virginia.
“Would you mind driving, Fitz? I want to be able to take notes and photograph all the scenery that we pass.”
Fitz, who commuted to the Smithsonian via train because he didn’t have a car, agreed with alacrity.
It was an hour and a half drive from Fredericksburg northwest to the Skyline Caverns in Front Royal. They traveled in relative silence….Fitz turned on a soft rock station that played music from the 60s through the 80s, and this helped while away the time while Michele concentrated on the scenery through which they passed and took photos of interesting signs.
“Why’d you take a picture of that?” he asked curiously, as out of the corner of his eye he saw her take a photo of one of the blue signs they passed. It had once informed travelers of what kind of food they could find on that exit, but now there were only four bright blue spots surrounded by faded blue.
Michele shrugged. “ I’ve passed quite a lot of these signs in the last few months, and it’s just so tragic. For decades travelers knew there’d be food there….some mom and pop restaurant, you know? Or some tourist stop…some museum or something…closed now because tourism is down…what, like 50%?”
“You’re the travel expert,” Fitz said.
“Yes, well, tourism is down 50%.” Michele said. “Who can afford to travel these days? Oh, the bigger attractions continue to get their visitors, but the sites on the way…the ones people would stop off at because of a whim…they are going under. It’s just sad.”
Fitz nodded grimly. “And probably going to get sadder still.”
“So I’m going to do what I can. Write a few articles about the places that have gone out of business, just to document that they once existed, and hopefully more articles about those that are still in business and deserve a visit.”
Fitz nodded again. “Sounds good.”
As he drove, Michele reflected that she was glad that she’d asked Fitz to accompany her. She was a loner by nature and enjoyed going places by herself, but when it came to collecting information for travel articles, someone to drive the car while she worked was invaluable. She’d never have been able to drive and take photos of things she’d been passing at the same time!
And although she enjoyed traveling alone, it was going to be nice to have someone with her to share the experiences they’d be having. To appreciate the beauty they’d be wandering through. And last but not least, there’d be some cuddling and kissing and probably at least one night of good sex.
Michele chuckled.
Fitz looked over at her. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re with me.”
He smiled at her, then returned his attention to the road.
The city was located 50 miles south of Washington, D.C., and 58 miles north of Richmond, Virginia. A relatively small city – only about 20,000 people, it is a bedroom community – most of its inhabitants commute by car, bus or train to Arlington, Washington or Richmond.
Fitz was an archivist for the Smithsonian Institution, and he had asked a few favors in order to get the rest of the week off so he could travel with Michele through the limestone cavern country of Northern Virginia. He’d have his work cut out for him once he returned, but…. He rolled over in bed and looked at Michele’s sleeping form. It’d be worth it.
Fitz rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom, where he took a shower, shaved, brushed his teeth, and felt ready to face the day. When he came out, he found Michele up, dressed in the sleeveless grey t-shirt and men’s grey pajama bottoms that were her sleeping attire. She was seated in front of her laptop, busily printing out driving directions.
“Feel like breakfast?” he asked her.
“Scrambled eggs and sausage would be great,” she said.
“Eggs mixed with cheese and onion, right, and maple syrup for your sausage.”
“You’ve got a good memory, Fitz.”
“Of course.”
After printing out the final set of instructions, Michele walked into the kitchen and watched while Fitz busied himself with frying pans.
“I love your cooking,” she told him, giving him an appreciative hug, from the back of course so it wouldn’t distract his attention from the food.
“Thank you,” he said, “I love that you love my cooking.”
After breakfast, Michele did her part, loading the dishwasher and getting it started.
“Do you want to wait until these are done, or are we ready to start now?” she asked.
“Sure, let’s head on out.”
Five minutes later, suitcases were stowed in the trunk of Michele’s car, and they set out for their first destination, Skyline Caverns, Virginia.
“Would you mind driving, Fitz? I want to be able to take notes and photograph all the scenery that we pass.”
Fitz, who commuted to the Smithsonian via train because he didn’t have a car, agreed with alacrity.
It was an hour and a half drive from Fredericksburg northwest to the Skyline Caverns in Front Royal. They traveled in relative silence….Fitz turned on a soft rock station that played music from the 60s through the 80s, and this helped while away the time while Michele concentrated on the scenery through which they passed and took photos of interesting signs.
“Why’d you take a picture of that?” he asked curiously, as out of the corner of his eye he saw her take a photo of one of the blue signs they passed. It had once informed travelers of what kind of food they could find on that exit, but now there were only four bright blue spots surrounded by faded blue.
Michele shrugged. “ I’ve passed quite a lot of these signs in the last few months, and it’s just so tragic. For decades travelers knew there’d be food there….some mom and pop restaurant, you know? Or some tourist stop…some museum or something…closed now because tourism is down…what, like 50%?”
“You’re the travel expert,” Fitz said.
“Yes, well, tourism is down 50%.” Michele said. “Who can afford to travel these days? Oh, the bigger attractions continue to get their visitors, but the sites on the way…the ones people would stop off at because of a whim…they are going under. It’s just sad.”
Fitz nodded grimly. “And probably going to get sadder still.”
“So I’m going to do what I can. Write a few articles about the places that have gone out of business, just to document that they once existed, and hopefully more articles about those that are still in business and deserve a visit.”
Fitz nodded again. “Sounds good.”
As he drove, Michele reflected that she was glad that she’d asked Fitz to accompany her. She was a loner by nature and enjoyed going places by herself, but when it came to collecting information for travel articles, someone to drive the car while she worked was invaluable. She’d never have been able to drive and take photos of things she’d been passing at the same time!
And although she enjoyed traveling alone, it was going to be nice to have someone with her to share the experiences they’d be having. To appreciate the beauty they’d be wandering through. And last but not least, there’d be some cuddling and kissing and probably at least one night of good sex.
Michele chuckled.
Fitz looked over at her. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re with me.”
He smiled at her, then returned his attention to the road.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, Ch 6
After he’d finished talking Mason to her, they walked into the bathroom. While Michele turned on the water of the shower and adjusted the knobs to get just the right water temperature, Fitz stood close behind her, gently rolling up her T-shirt. “I wish you’d wear button up shirts,” he told her. “It’s so much nicer to unbutton your shirt one button at a time then to …” she lifted her arms and he skinned the T-shirt over her head…”have to do that all the time.”
“I like T-shirts,” she murmured, licking her lips as his hands clasped her breasts over her bra, then moved to her back and unhooked it. He tossed it aside and then moved his hands in front again, cupping her breasts, squeezing ever so gently, as he nibbled the back of her neck.
He released her left breast and ran his hand down to her shorts, slipping his hand beneath the waistband and the cool smoothness of her waist, extending his fingers far enough so that he could brush the very top of her pubic hair with his fingers.
She shuddered in anticipatory pleasure.
He raised his hand back up and undid the button on her shorts, then brought both hands down and slid her shorts off her hips, down to her feet. She placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of them. He stood up again, rested his left hand on her belly, fingers spread and rubbing through her pubic hair, the other cupping her right breast, as he continued to nibble her neck.
Then moving slowly – he knew she liked it slow – he turned her around, and she began to unbutton his shirt. As he shrugged out of it her hands went down to unzip his jeans, and then he stepped out of them. His cock bounced up and she wrapped one hand around its firmness. She reached up her other hand and he handed her a condom, which she unrolled over his rock hard penis. Then she smiled at him, and stepped into the tub. He joined her, and they stood pressed together underneath the pelting spray.
Michele stood facing away from Fitz, feeling his condom-wrapped cock pressing against her buttocks, his pectorals pressing against her back, as he took up a bar of soap and began lathering her neck and shoulders, then moving it around and massaging/lathering her breasts, her belly, between her legs. He put the soap away and wiped her down with his hands, as the shower continued to pelt on their shoulders, then he pressed her forward slightly and she braced her hands against the wall and tilted her butt up.
He entered her firmly, deeply, his hands on her hips. He took it slow, thrusting each time as deep as he could go but very slowly, and as slowly pulling out. He was aiming for her G-spot…he knew she’d let him know when he found it.
Thrusting, in and out, in and out. Michele stood with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, eyes closed, imagining a young James Mason pleasuring her. Fitz’s breath became heavier and slower too, as he gazed down at his cock, framed by her beautiful firm buttocks, sliding in and out. Her moans of pleasures aroused him even more, as she pressed her buttocks back against him, wanting him to go deeper still.
“Ah, God,” she moaned…
He began to thrust faster and faster, his gaze locked on the beautiful sight beneath him, cock sliding in and out between two perfect spheres,
“Almost there,” murmured Michele.
He pressed his fingers into the flesh of her hips, held her even closer to him, ramming into her and grunting hoarsely as he came.
Finally, gasping, he released his hold on her waist and reached out for her breasts, straightening her a bit so he could massage them while he continued to thrust himself languidly into her. She reached back with her hands and wrapped her fingers in his hair…
Fitz withdrew himself, turned and let the shower wash off the condom and his cock as he unpeeled it. Michele turned as well and rubbed his back, nibbling on his shoulder blades.
Fitz turned the shower off, stepped out of the tub and helped her out also. He took two towels one for her and one for him, and they began to rub each other dry, each passing a towel around the back of the other and pulling from side to side as they kissed.
“Whew,” said Fitz, finally. “That was great.”
“Really great,” agreed Michele. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
Toweled dry, they walked hand in hand back into the bedroom, and crawled into the bed. Michele lay her head against Fitz’s chest, and he put an arm around his shoulders, and they drifted off to sleep.
“I like T-shirts,” she murmured, licking her lips as his hands clasped her breasts over her bra, then moved to her back and unhooked it. He tossed it aside and then moved his hands in front again, cupping her breasts, squeezing ever so gently, as he nibbled the back of her neck.
He released her left breast and ran his hand down to her shorts, slipping his hand beneath the waistband and the cool smoothness of her waist, extending his fingers far enough so that he could brush the very top of her pubic hair with his fingers.
She shuddered in anticipatory pleasure.
He raised his hand back up and undid the button on her shorts, then brought both hands down and slid her shorts off her hips, down to her feet. She placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of them. He stood up again, rested his left hand on her belly, fingers spread and rubbing through her pubic hair, the other cupping her right breast, as he continued to nibble her neck.
Then moving slowly – he knew she liked it slow – he turned her around, and she began to unbutton his shirt. As he shrugged out of it her hands went down to unzip his jeans, and then he stepped out of them. His cock bounced up and she wrapped one hand around its firmness. She reached up her other hand and he handed her a condom, which she unrolled over his rock hard penis. Then she smiled at him, and stepped into the tub. He joined her, and they stood pressed together underneath the pelting spray.
Michele stood facing away from Fitz, feeling his condom-wrapped cock pressing against her buttocks, his pectorals pressing against her back, as he took up a bar of soap and began lathering her neck and shoulders, then moving it around and massaging/lathering her breasts, her belly, between her legs. He put the soap away and wiped her down with his hands, as the shower continued to pelt on their shoulders, then he pressed her forward slightly and she braced her hands against the wall and tilted her butt up.
He entered her firmly, deeply, his hands on her hips. He took it slow, thrusting each time as deep as he could go but very slowly, and as slowly pulling out. He was aiming for her G-spot…he knew she’d let him know when he found it.
Thrusting, in and out, in and out. Michele stood with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, eyes closed, imagining a young James Mason pleasuring her. Fitz’s breath became heavier and slower too, as he gazed down at his cock, framed by her beautiful firm buttocks, sliding in and out. Her moans of pleasures aroused him even more, as she pressed her buttocks back against him, wanting him to go deeper still.
“Ah, God,” she moaned…
He began to thrust faster and faster, his gaze locked on the beautiful sight beneath him, cock sliding in and out between two perfect spheres,
“Almost there,” murmured Michele.
He pressed his fingers into the flesh of her hips, held her even closer to him, ramming into her and grunting hoarsely as he came.
Finally, gasping, he released his hold on her waist and reached out for her breasts, straightening her a bit so he could massage them while he continued to thrust himself languidly into her. She reached back with her hands and wrapped her fingers in his hair…
Fitz withdrew himself, turned and let the shower wash off the condom and his cock as he unpeeled it. Michele turned as well and rubbed his back, nibbling on his shoulder blades.
Fitz turned the shower off, stepped out of the tub and helped her out also. He took two towels one for her and one for him, and they began to rub each other dry, each passing a towel around the back of the other and pulling from side to side as they kissed.
“Whew,” said Fitz, finally. “That was great.”
“Really great,” agreed Michele. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
Toweled dry, they walked hand in hand back into the bedroom, and crawled into the bed. Michele lay her head against Fitz’s chest, and he put an arm around his shoulders, and they drifted off to sleep.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, Ch 5
I.
The next day, Michele returned to her hotel room after her driving tour of Gettysburg. She tossed backpack and camera onto the bed and went into the bathroom for a long, cold shower. She’d been spent the day driving hither and yon on the Gettysburg driving trail of the various locations around the battlefield, and although her car had excellent air conditioning she’d gotten out on several occasions to walk around the various sites she’d visited, and overall she was feeling hot and grubby.
Refreshed after her shower, she sat on her bed and fired up her laptop. Then she checked her email. She’d received a response from her friend in Fredericksburg. She opened it, and found that he was delighted to hear from her, and would be even more delighted if she made his home her base during her week’s stay in northern Maryland. And he’d be delighted to act as her guide to the caverns of northern Virginia.
It had been a couple of years since she’d visited Fitz (Alex Fitzhugh), and since she’d be coming to his apartment from a different angle she looked up driving directions on Mapquest, and printed those out on her portable printer.
She arrived in Fredericksburg the next day in the late afternoon, and since he’d specified he wouldn’t be home until after six pm, she spent a couple of hours at a Barnes & Noble, browsing among the books. At six, she headed for Fitz’s apartment.
“How was your drive?” he asked, taking her suitcase from her and carrying it into the bedroom.
“Great. But I’m longing for a hot bath.”
“You and your baths,” Fitz laughed. “You should have been a mermaid, you like water so much.”
“I’ve often thought so.”
“May I join you?”
Michele tapped his hard chest with a smile. “My first bath after a drive is always all about me. But I’ll be having another bath later on tonight, as you well know. And if you’d care to join me then…”
“I’d love to.”
“Well, then. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, and we can catch up on old times.”
II.
They ordered in Chinese food, and spent the evening talking about old times.
Then, because he knew she liked it, Fitz said in his best James Mason impersonation, “What’s your pleasure, my dear? North By Northwest or Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”
“Tough choice,” Michele mused. “Cary Grant and James Mason, or Kirk Douglas and James Mason…I’m in the mood for Twenty Thousand Leagues…”
“I love this movie,” Michele mused, as Kirk Douglas and Peter Lorre attempted to escape onto an island which, unbeknownst to them, was inhabited by cannibals, “But it also broke my heart.”
“What do mean?”
“Well, I saw it when I was very young, thirteen or so. Must have been one of the first full length, live action films I’d ever seen…graduating from the Disney animation classics, you know? And it ignited a love of oceans and underwater exploring….” She broke off to yell, “Run, you poor fools, run!”
After Douglas and Lorre were once more safely aboard the Nautilus, Michele continued. “And I also got my first crush, ever. My first crush on an actor and my first crush on a guy, ever. James Mason.”
Fitz nodded. “I can see it,” he said judiciously.
“I love his accent and his face and everything,” returned Michele with a grin. “But, remember, I was thirteen, and I had no idea that movies I saw on DVD were, you know, fifty years old. So I asked my mom if we could rent another movie starring James Mason, and the very next day she came back with one called 11 Harrowhouse.”
“I don’t recognize it.”
“Oh, it was about a lowly clerk in a diamond merchant company who decides to steal a million dollars worth of diamonds from his employer. Starred Candace Bergen and Charles Grodin. James Mason had a supporting role. And this movie was filmed – as I found out later, of course – in 1974. 20 years after he’d filmed 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
“Ah, oh.”
“Exactly. From one day to the next the man I’d intended to marry when I grew up had aged 20 years!”
She joined in with Fitz’s laughter, but she was telling the truth. At age 13, she’d had her eye on Captain Nemo, alright!
“Worse than that,” she continued, “he’d been 45 when he played Nemo and he was 65 in this movie. I was just…stunned, shattered! But that’s not the worst of it. I asked my mom how in the world this could happen, you know, that someone could be 45 one day and 65 the next, and that’s when she explained that movies lasted forever. And the final irony…Mom had one of those film encyclopedia books, and she looked him up…Mason had actually been dead since 1984. He died two years before I was born!”
“Bummer,” said Fitz.
“You got that right,” sighed Michele, dipping a fried cream-cheese filled wonton into sweet and sour sauce and then popping it into her mouth. “Of course after that I’d learned my lesson. Oh, I got crushes on actors… Cary Grant, Peter Lorre…”
“Peter Lorre?”
“Hey – when he was young he was in pretty good shape! You saw him as Joel Cairo in Maltese Falcon, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“And in his Mr. Moto movies, he could do ju jitsu like nobody’s business. Though I confess that once he gained sooo much weight I sort of lost interest…”
“I should hope so.”
“Don’t be mean. After all, he had some kind of medical problem that played havoc with his weight. But, anyway, I watched a lot of movies and TV after that, and had crushes on a lot of actors, but I’d learned to separate actors from their roles by that time. But James Mason will always remain my first love. And anyone who can do a James Mason impersonation….”
Fitz grinned. He leaned toward her, “You may call me…Captain Nemo,” he said, in an exact replica of Mason’s voice.
“Oh, baby,” Michele murmured, running her hand down one of his pecs. “Talk Mason to me.”
The next day, Michele returned to her hotel room after her driving tour of Gettysburg. She tossed backpack and camera onto the bed and went into the bathroom for a long, cold shower. She’d been spent the day driving hither and yon on the Gettysburg driving trail of the various locations around the battlefield, and although her car had excellent air conditioning she’d gotten out on several occasions to walk around the various sites she’d visited, and overall she was feeling hot and grubby.
Refreshed after her shower, she sat on her bed and fired up her laptop. Then she checked her email. She’d received a response from her friend in Fredericksburg. She opened it, and found that he was delighted to hear from her, and would be even more delighted if she made his home her base during her week’s stay in northern Maryland. And he’d be delighted to act as her guide to the caverns of northern Virginia.
It had been a couple of years since she’d visited Fitz (Alex Fitzhugh), and since she’d be coming to his apartment from a different angle she looked up driving directions on Mapquest, and printed those out on her portable printer.
She arrived in Fredericksburg the next day in the late afternoon, and since he’d specified he wouldn’t be home until after six pm, she spent a couple of hours at a Barnes & Noble, browsing among the books. At six, she headed for Fitz’s apartment.
“How was your drive?” he asked, taking her suitcase from her and carrying it into the bedroom.
“Great. But I’m longing for a hot bath.”
“You and your baths,” Fitz laughed. “You should have been a mermaid, you like water so much.”
“I’ve often thought so.”
“May I join you?”
Michele tapped his hard chest with a smile. “My first bath after a drive is always all about me. But I’ll be having another bath later on tonight, as you well know. And if you’d care to join me then…”
“I’d love to.”
“Well, then. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, and we can catch up on old times.”
II.
They ordered in Chinese food, and spent the evening talking about old times.
Then, because he knew she liked it, Fitz said in his best James Mason impersonation, “What’s your pleasure, my dear? North By Northwest or Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”
“Tough choice,” Michele mused. “Cary Grant and James Mason, or Kirk Douglas and James Mason…I’m in the mood for Twenty Thousand Leagues…”
“I love this movie,” Michele mused, as Kirk Douglas and Peter Lorre attempted to escape onto an island which, unbeknownst to them, was inhabited by cannibals, “But it also broke my heart.”
“What do mean?”
“Well, I saw it when I was very young, thirteen or so. Must have been one of the first full length, live action films I’d ever seen…graduating from the Disney animation classics, you know? And it ignited a love of oceans and underwater exploring….” She broke off to yell, “Run, you poor fools, run!”
After Douglas and Lorre were once more safely aboard the Nautilus, Michele continued. “And I also got my first crush, ever. My first crush on an actor and my first crush on a guy, ever. James Mason.”
Fitz nodded. “I can see it,” he said judiciously.
“I love his accent and his face and everything,” returned Michele with a grin. “But, remember, I was thirteen, and I had no idea that movies I saw on DVD were, you know, fifty years old. So I asked my mom if we could rent another movie starring James Mason, and the very next day she came back with one called 11 Harrowhouse.”
“I don’t recognize it.”
“Oh, it was about a lowly clerk in a diamond merchant company who decides to steal a million dollars worth of diamonds from his employer. Starred Candace Bergen and Charles Grodin. James Mason had a supporting role. And this movie was filmed – as I found out later, of course – in 1974. 20 years after he’d filmed 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
“Ah, oh.”
“Exactly. From one day to the next the man I’d intended to marry when I grew up had aged 20 years!”
She joined in with Fitz’s laughter, but she was telling the truth. At age 13, she’d had her eye on Captain Nemo, alright!
“Worse than that,” she continued, “he’d been 45 when he played Nemo and he was 65 in this movie. I was just…stunned, shattered! But that’s not the worst of it. I asked my mom how in the world this could happen, you know, that someone could be 45 one day and 65 the next, and that’s when she explained that movies lasted forever. And the final irony…Mom had one of those film encyclopedia books, and she looked him up…Mason had actually been dead since 1984. He died two years before I was born!”
“Bummer,” said Fitz.
“You got that right,” sighed Michele, dipping a fried cream-cheese filled wonton into sweet and sour sauce and then popping it into her mouth. “Of course after that I’d learned my lesson. Oh, I got crushes on actors… Cary Grant, Peter Lorre…”
“Peter Lorre?”
“Hey – when he was young he was in pretty good shape! You saw him as Joel Cairo in Maltese Falcon, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“And in his Mr. Moto movies, he could do ju jitsu like nobody’s business. Though I confess that once he gained sooo much weight I sort of lost interest…”
“I should hope so.”
“Don’t be mean. After all, he had some kind of medical problem that played havoc with his weight. But, anyway, I watched a lot of movies and TV after that, and had crushes on a lot of actors, but I’d learned to separate actors from their roles by that time. But James Mason will always remain my first love. And anyone who can do a James Mason impersonation….”
Fitz grinned. He leaned toward her, “You may call me…Captain Nemo,” he said, in an exact replica of Mason’s voice.
“Oh, baby,” Michele murmured, running her hand down one of his pecs. “Talk Mason to me.”
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Mario Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King Ch 4
It was 90 degrees in Gettysburg when Michele set out for the battlefield. She’d checked the weather on her laptop and so wore white cargo shorts that reached to mid-thigh, and a white Fifinella baseball cap and T-shirt, which she’d picked up a couple of years ago when she’d visited the WASP museum in Sweetwater Texas.
The motel offered free shuttle buses to the battlefield, and Michele decided she would take that route, rather than choose the independence of her car, since the main focus of her articles was supposed to be for the traveler on a budget.
The shuttle bus was two-thirds full when it arrived at the Gettysburg Museum and Visitor Center. Entrance to the battlefield grounds was free, but to go through the museum cost money, and she paid the fee that and then spent several hours wandering through all the exhibits.
She picked up a free Park Map and Guide, but also purchased a copy of David Petruzzi’s Complete Battlefield Guide, and a couple of CDs. One featuring Civil War songs from both sides, the other, dramatized readings for all the speeches made regarding the war.
She also fed several pennies and a couple of dollars into a stretched penny machine to add to her stretched penny collection, a ball cap and a battlefield T-shirt, for her ball cap and T-shirt collections. She stowed her acquisitions into the miniature backpack she’d brought with her, and slung that over her shoulders as she walked.
She’d intended to spend only one day at the battlefield but now realized that was not going to be enough time. To fully grasp the impact of this pivotal battle of the Civil War, she’d have to stay here for at least a couple of days, probably three or four, in order to see everything, absorb everything.
Michele checked battery status and memory free on her Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera, and found them good. She’d taken a lot of photos inside the museum. Now she circled the exterior of the museum, taking shots from various angles. Finally, she set off briskly on the long walk to the Soldier’s National Cemetery. She wanted to see that first of all, before she continued to explore the grounds.
As she walked, she paid a bit of attention to her fellow tourists – lots of family groups. Very young children looking interested, teenagers looking bored. Young men. Old men. More men than women, but she noticed several single women also walking about.
Michele brought out her digital recorder and began to record her thoughts. She’d already made several comments while walking through the Museum, noting down names and events that she’d want to research further. Now she mused about the appearance of the park and the ease of getting from one spot to another, how informative the signs were, and so on.
Just as the museum had put her into a somber mood, so did the National Cemetery. She walked along the white tablets, reading the inscriptions. Sometimes a man’s name, other times just unknown, occasionally a number of unknown soldiers had been laid to rest in the same plot.
Michele checked her watch, and decided it was time to catch the next shuttle bus to return to her motel. She retraced her steps back toward the Museum and Visitor Center.
As she sat on a bench waiting for the shuttle bus, a man in his mid forties sat next to her.
“Your first time at Gettysburg?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes. There’s so much to take in…I…”
But at that exact instant, her bus rolled up. “Well, here’s my bus,” said Michele. “Nice talking to you.”
He looked so disappointed, but he only waved. “Nice talking to you.”
Michele grinned wryly as she took a comfy seat right at the front. If he’d been cute, she probably would have stayed there and talked to him…but he’d been too skinny…
There was an Arby’s next to her motel. Michele purchased a couple of roast beef sandwiches and some French fries, and dined in her room, drinking milk that she’d previously purchased and kept in the room’s mini-fridge. She spent her time downloading photos, shrinking them to size and titling them appropriately. She knew well from past experience that if she fell behind on this project by even a day…she’d never get caught up. So she always made it a practice to get that kind of work out of the way each night.
Work done for the evening, Michele took a long, hot bath, then relaxed in bed, reading through the guide book she’d acquired earlier in the day. She decided she would do the driving tour, using her own car.
Then, depending on her mood, she’d either visit the battlefield sites for another day, or head down into Virginia to begin her quest for the caverns.
Before going to bed, Michele checked her email. Nothing of any interest...mostly spam.
However...Michele pursed her lips. If she was going to Virginia...why not look up an old friend? It had been over a year since she'd seen a friend she'd first in Germany while they'd both been attending high school in Germany, and remained friends - if of the long-distance variety - ever since. If she remembered right, he lived near Fredericksburg. Perhaps he'd have some time to drive over to Luray and go through the caverns with her.
Well, she'd send him an email invitation, and see what he'd have to say.
After sending the invite, Michele switched off her computer, rolled over, and fell asleep.
The Gettysburg Address
The motel offered free shuttle buses to the battlefield, and Michele decided she would take that route, rather than choose the independence of her car, since the main focus of her articles was supposed to be for the traveler on a budget.
The shuttle bus was two-thirds full when it arrived at the Gettysburg Museum and Visitor Center. Entrance to the battlefield grounds was free, but to go through the museum cost money, and she paid the fee that and then spent several hours wandering through all the exhibits.
She picked up a free Park Map and Guide, but also purchased a copy of David Petruzzi’s Complete Battlefield Guide, and a couple of CDs. One featuring Civil War songs from both sides, the other, dramatized readings for all the speeches made regarding the war.
She also fed several pennies and a couple of dollars into a stretched penny machine to add to her stretched penny collection, a ball cap and a battlefield T-shirt, for her ball cap and T-shirt collections. She stowed her acquisitions into the miniature backpack she’d brought with her, and slung that over her shoulders as she walked.
She’d intended to spend only one day at the battlefield but now realized that was not going to be enough time. To fully grasp the impact of this pivotal battle of the Civil War, she’d have to stay here for at least a couple of days, probably three or four, in order to see everything, absorb everything.
Michele checked battery status and memory free on her Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera, and found them good. She’d taken a lot of photos inside the museum. Now she circled the exterior of the museum, taking shots from various angles. Finally, she set off briskly on the long walk to the Soldier’s National Cemetery. She wanted to see that first of all, before she continued to explore the grounds.
As she walked, she paid a bit of attention to her fellow tourists – lots of family groups. Very young children looking interested, teenagers looking bored. Young men. Old men. More men than women, but she noticed several single women also walking about.
Michele brought out her digital recorder and began to record her thoughts. She’d already made several comments while walking through the Museum, noting down names and events that she’d want to research further. Now she mused about the appearance of the park and the ease of getting from one spot to another, how informative the signs were, and so on.
Just as the museum had put her into a somber mood, so did the National Cemetery. She walked along the white tablets, reading the inscriptions. Sometimes a man’s name, other times just unknown, occasionally a number of unknown soldiers had been laid to rest in the same plot.
Michele checked her watch, and decided it was time to catch the next shuttle bus to return to her motel. She retraced her steps back toward the Museum and Visitor Center.
As she sat on a bench waiting for the shuttle bus, a man in his mid forties sat next to her.
“Your first time at Gettysburg?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes. There’s so much to take in…I…”
But at that exact instant, her bus rolled up. “Well, here’s my bus,” said Michele. “Nice talking to you.”
He looked so disappointed, but he only waved. “Nice talking to you.”
Michele grinned wryly as she took a comfy seat right at the front. If he’d been cute, she probably would have stayed there and talked to him…but he’d been too skinny…
There was an Arby’s next to her motel. Michele purchased a couple of roast beef sandwiches and some French fries, and dined in her room, drinking milk that she’d previously purchased and kept in the room’s mini-fridge. She spent her time downloading photos, shrinking them to size and titling them appropriately. She knew well from past experience that if she fell behind on this project by even a day…she’d never get caught up. So she always made it a practice to get that kind of work out of the way each night.
Work done for the evening, Michele took a long, hot bath, then relaxed in bed, reading through the guide book she’d acquired earlier in the day. She decided she would do the driving tour, using her own car.
Then, depending on her mood, she’d either visit the battlefield sites for another day, or head down into Virginia to begin her quest for the caverns.
Before going to bed, Michele checked her email. Nothing of any interest...mostly spam.
However...Michele pursed her lips. If she was going to Virginia...why not look up an old friend? It had been over a year since she'd seen a friend she'd first in Germany while they'd both been attending high school in Germany, and remained friends - if of the long-distance variety - ever since. If she remembered right, he lived near Fredericksburg. Perhaps he'd have some time to drive over to Luray and go through the caverns with her.
Well, she'd send him an email invitation, and see what he'd have to say.
After sending the invite, Michele switched off her computer, rolled over, and fell asleep.
The Gettysburg Address
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King, Ch 3
Gus Keller sat at his desk in the Special Crimes Investigation Bureau office building. Keller was the real name of the man who had attempted to pass himself off as Mr. Largo to Taran Tula. He had been a desk agent at the Washington office of the Special Crimes Investigation Bureau for two years, recruited right out of college because of his knowledge of European language, and had gradually become knowledgeable in the art theft field, from the missing art from World War II, to the Entartete Kunst, to the paintings and sculptures stolen on practically a monthly basis for the last several decades.
When the real Mr. Largo had been captured, with a sheet of paper which had told the SCIB of his plans to meet with the infamous art thief-cum-assassin Taran Tula, he had been the only one with the appropriate knowledge of German and art, and he had been yanked from his desk and sent out into the field…where he had failed.
Oh, his superiors hadn’t said that, but he knew that’s what they thought.
In front of him on his desk lay the fingerprint cards for five women.
There is something called the CSI effect. Because most people believe that the TV shows such as CSI, CSI Miami and CSI New York represent actual police procedure, they think DNA can be identified within minutes, and that a single partial fingerprint can be used to definitely identify a suspect.
Such is not the case.
In any study of fingerprints, there are “points of similarity” that are considered. Anything over six points of similarity are considered a match.
That’s what Keller had, the fingerprint cards of five women who had fingerprints with three points of similarity to the partial print that he had lifted off the spoon that Taran Tula had held while eating her ice cream, a month ago.
He intended to visit them, one by one, and see if he could recognize any of them as Taran Tula.
Their names were as follows, listed alphabetically:
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
Keller gazed at the five names….where to start….hell, why not alphabetically? He’d start with Michele Bravo.
When the real Mr. Largo had been captured, with a sheet of paper which had told the SCIB of his plans to meet with the infamous art thief-cum-assassin Taran Tula, he had been the only one with the appropriate knowledge of German and art, and he had been yanked from his desk and sent out into the field…where he had failed.
Oh, his superiors hadn’t said that, but he knew that’s what they thought.
In front of him on his desk lay the fingerprint cards for five women.
There is something called the CSI effect. Because most people believe that the TV shows such as CSI, CSI Miami and CSI New York represent actual police procedure, they think DNA can be identified within minutes, and that a single partial fingerprint can be used to definitely identify a suspect.
Such is not the case.
In any study of fingerprints, there are “points of similarity” that are considered. Anything over six points of similarity are considered a match.
That’s what Keller had, the fingerprint cards of five women who had fingerprints with three points of similarity to the partial print that he had lifted off the spoon that Taran Tula had held while eating her ice cream, a month ago.
He intended to visit them, one by one, and see if he could recognize any of them as Taran Tula.
Their names were as follows, listed alphabetically:
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
Keller gazed at the five names….where to start….hell, why not alphabetically? He’d start with Michele Bravo.
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King Ch 2
They walked hand-in-hand along the beach. Michele glanced at the man at her side. He was tall, with silver hair and handsome features, and wore a white turtle neck sweater under a blue blazer. Banacek. He glanced at her and smiled his suave smile, and she smiled back.
The moon was full, and its light cast a silver gleam over the rocky beach, and the waves rolling in, pounding on the rocks on shore. Far ahead of them was a lighthouse on a rocky promontory, and every thirty seconds or so its silvery white beam would swing around and illuminate the entire landscape as bright as day.
They continued walking silently and holding hands, enjoying the roar of the ocean, the glorious power of the waves as they crashed against the rocks, the tang of the cool sea air. Far in the distance, Michele could see a galleon, with all sails set, silhouetted against the night sky, dipping into wave troughs and then rising up again.
Then they were at the foot of the cliff, atop which was the lighthouse. They began to climb an iron staircase that was set into the rock, and as they climbed the waves were coming closer and closer, spattering into foam at their feet as they rose higher and higher.
It was a long climb, but their breathing was easy as they went up step after step, side by side, until finally they reached the top of the cliff and stood looking out from that vantage point over the ocean.
Then they turned to look at the light house, which rose up over a hundred stories into the air, with that light as its centerpiece. It was painted white, with a black stripe running like a candy stripe in a circle up to its top.
They entered the lighthouse and in its center was another iron staircase, circular this time. And they began to climb that one as well, going round and round, round and round. At every second landing they stopped, leaning against each other, and gazed out a porthole into the night sky.
At last they reached the light room. Hand in hand, they went out onto the walkway, a six-foot wide parapet that surrounded the light room and allowed the lightkeeper to clean the windows from the outside. They stood there, watching the galleons sailing across the ocean, the occasional twelve-foot wing-spanned albatross soaring in air, and then they turned and looked into each other’s eyes.
They took off their clothes, and lay down on the cool stone parapet and began to make love….
Michele felt the sudden heat flooding into her loins as she woke up. She clenched the muscles in her thighs and felt the exquisite pleasure of an orgasm running through her…again…and again..and again…before it faded out, all too quickly.
Michele sighed as she lay there. Always too quick!
She had had such experiences before. When she hadn’t moved from a single spot for several hours – always when she was asleep, she would begin to have some kind of erotic dream, which would culminate with her waking up to an orgasm which she could bring to a peak of pleasure by tightening her thigh muscles. She had never been sure if the erotic dream brought on the orgasm, or the start of the physical orgasm was enough to influence her dreams…but they were always pleasurable while they were happening.
But making love to Banacek? She had the DVDs of the TV series, which she had discovered some years ago, even though it had been on TV in 1972, when she’d been just a baby. But Banacek, as played by George Peppard, had been so…so cool. So suave and sophisticated. So…uber-competent.
She hadn’t watched a Banacek episode in months, though, so, as she drifted back into a dreamless sleep, she wondered what had brought him to her mind now…
The moon was full, and its light cast a silver gleam over the rocky beach, and the waves rolling in, pounding on the rocks on shore. Far ahead of them was a lighthouse on a rocky promontory, and every thirty seconds or so its silvery white beam would swing around and illuminate the entire landscape as bright as day.
They continued walking silently and holding hands, enjoying the roar of the ocean, the glorious power of the waves as they crashed against the rocks, the tang of the cool sea air. Far in the distance, Michele could see a galleon, with all sails set, silhouetted against the night sky, dipping into wave troughs and then rising up again.
Then they were at the foot of the cliff, atop which was the lighthouse. They began to climb an iron staircase that was set into the rock, and as they climbed the waves were coming closer and closer, spattering into foam at their feet as they rose higher and higher.
It was a long climb, but their breathing was easy as they went up step after step, side by side, until finally they reached the top of the cliff and stood looking out from that vantage point over the ocean.
Then they turned to look at the light house, which rose up over a hundred stories into the air, with that light as its centerpiece. It was painted white, with a black stripe running like a candy stripe in a circle up to its top.
They entered the lighthouse and in its center was another iron staircase, circular this time. And they began to climb that one as well, going round and round, round and round. At every second landing they stopped, leaning against each other, and gazed out a porthole into the night sky.
At last they reached the light room. Hand in hand, they went out onto the walkway, a six-foot wide parapet that surrounded the light room and allowed the lightkeeper to clean the windows from the outside. They stood there, watching the galleons sailing across the ocean, the occasional twelve-foot wing-spanned albatross soaring in air, and then they turned and looked into each other’s eyes.
They took off their clothes, and lay down on the cool stone parapet and began to make love….
Michele felt the sudden heat flooding into her loins as she woke up. She clenched the muscles in her thighs and felt the exquisite pleasure of an orgasm running through her…again…and again..and again…before it faded out, all too quickly.
Michele sighed as she lay there. Always too quick!
She had had such experiences before. When she hadn’t moved from a single spot for several hours – always when she was asleep, she would begin to have some kind of erotic dream, which would culminate with her waking up to an orgasm which she could bring to a peak of pleasure by tightening her thigh muscles. She had never been sure if the erotic dream brought on the orgasm, or the start of the physical orgasm was enough to influence her dreams…but they were always pleasurable while they were happening.
But making love to Banacek? She had the DVDs of the TV series, which she had discovered some years ago, even though it had been on TV in 1972, when she’d been just a baby. But Banacek, as played by George Peppard, had been so…so cool. So suave and sophisticated. So…uber-competent.
She hadn’t watched a Banacek episode in months, though, so, as she drifted back into a dreamless sleep, she wondered what had brought him to her mind now…
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Michele Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King Ch 1
I.
Michele re-read the first chapter of her Big Bang Theory fan fiction and found it good. (Follow the complete story at Fanfiction.net: The Mirror Image Iterations)
The idea had come to her suddenly. Why not have aspiring actress Penny be cast in a sitcom about 4 socially awkward physicists? Only let the physicists be four beautiful women, who scared away all the men because they were so smart. And the actresses would want to spend a few days following around the people on whom they’d been modeled – Sheldon, Leonard, Howard and Raj. Naturally, hilarity would ensue.
Michele had an interested layperson’s knowledge in the sciences, but she couldn’t come close to replicating the complex physics-related dialog that the 4 main characters exchanged at least once per episode, let alone the scientific metaphors and similes with which the uber-smart Sheldon Cooper laced his conservation, but then no one would expect her to. As long as the dialog resembled what the characters would sound like, that was good enough. Where she hoped to succeed was with the plot and the interaction of the characters.
Michele stretched and decided it was time for a hot bath. She took her Kindle with her into the bathroom, and shortly settled down in the hot water for a long soak and read. The Kindle was an electronic reading device which would not react well if dropped in water. But Michele had been reading paperback books while relaxing in the tub for decades without losing one – she saw no reason to think that the Kindle would break that record of success.
After heating the water to the appropriate temperature and filling the tub to the appropriate depth, Michele slipped in, smiled with sybaritic pleasure, and began to read Nevada Barr’s Blind Descent. Although Barr had been writing her mysteries featuring National Park ranger Anna Pigeon for over ten years, Michele had only just discovered the author.
Blind Descent takes place, for the most part, in caverns underneath the earth, part of Carlsbad Caverns called Lechuguilla. In reading the descriptions of the actual getting into the cave – crawling through teeny tiny holes and inching along like a worm – Michele shook her head. She prided herself on her adventurous spirit but spelunking was one activity that she would never, ever try. But the descriptions of the actual caves themselves…the beautiful limestone formations of various kinds – draperies, lily pads, soda straws, cave pearls, stalagmites and stalagtites…she would like to see those.
Michele remembered that when she had checked into this motel, there had been a rack of brochures of various sites in the area, and she was sure she’d seen a brochure for some kind of cavern…. After she finished her bath she’d go take a look.
II.
Michele reclined in bed with a stack of sight-seeing brochures. She’d decided to make off with every single one the motel had to offer, and divide them into topics – sites she’d like to see and write about, and sites she didn’t…but which she’d at least mention so that her readers would at least know about them.
There had actually been a couple of brochures advertising caverns – all of them in northern Virginia. There were the Luray Caverns, which the brochure claimed were the most famous, but there were others within a few miles of each other – the Shenandoah Caverns, the Endless Caverns, the Skyline Caverns, and a few others.
She would go see them all.
Finally, her work for the day done, Michele decided to relax and watch something mindless. The motel had cable with dozens of channels…she didn’t want to watch any crime dramas – too grim, or any sitcoms – no intelligent ones on like the Big Bang Theory were on, only annoying ones with family units featuring precocious and annoying children, a bossy wife and a browbeaten husband…blah. As usual, the only biographies on the Biography channel were that of actors. The NASA channel featured direct video from the space station, but there was no sound, and in any event that wasn’t what she was in the mood for.
Finally she came across the Golf Channel. The 2010 Open at Pebble Beach was being repeated, the one where Irishman Graeme McDowell had won and American Dustin Johnson had had an historic collapse in the first four holes, with the Grand Slam of disasters, triple bogey, double bogey, bogey and par. Michele watched a few holes in aesthetic discontent. 99% of the golfers wore the standard baggy pants that seemed de rigeur on the golf course these days….only Dustin Johnson had worn a well-fitting pair of slacks – and white at that – that fit nicely over his crotch and allowed those who cared for such things to have a bit of eye candy. It was so unfair… the women had to wear the highest of high skirts to show off their legs to the crowd, but the guys, as in practically every other sport, walked around looking like they were in their pajamas. Discrimination, that’s what it was.
Michele sighed, and decided that rather than watch this eye-candy-less sport, she’d go to bed, and get an early start the next morning. She had much to do…and perhaps she’d have some pleasant dreams…
Michele re-read the first chapter of her Big Bang Theory fan fiction and found it good. (Follow the complete story at Fanfiction.net: The Mirror Image Iterations)
The idea had come to her suddenly. Why not have aspiring actress Penny be cast in a sitcom about 4 socially awkward physicists? Only let the physicists be four beautiful women, who scared away all the men because they were so smart. And the actresses would want to spend a few days following around the people on whom they’d been modeled – Sheldon, Leonard, Howard and Raj. Naturally, hilarity would ensue.
Michele had an interested layperson’s knowledge in the sciences, but she couldn’t come close to replicating the complex physics-related dialog that the 4 main characters exchanged at least once per episode, let alone the scientific metaphors and similes with which the uber-smart Sheldon Cooper laced his conservation, but then no one would expect her to. As long as the dialog resembled what the characters would sound like, that was good enough. Where she hoped to succeed was with the plot and the interaction of the characters.
Michele stretched and decided it was time for a hot bath. She took her Kindle with her into the bathroom, and shortly settled down in the hot water for a long soak and read. The Kindle was an electronic reading device which would not react well if dropped in water. But Michele had been reading paperback books while relaxing in the tub for decades without losing one – she saw no reason to think that the Kindle would break that record of success.
After heating the water to the appropriate temperature and filling the tub to the appropriate depth, Michele slipped in, smiled with sybaritic pleasure, and began to read Nevada Barr’s Blind Descent. Although Barr had been writing her mysteries featuring National Park ranger Anna Pigeon for over ten years, Michele had only just discovered the author.
Blind Descent takes place, for the most part, in caverns underneath the earth, part of Carlsbad Caverns called Lechuguilla. In reading the descriptions of the actual getting into the cave – crawling through teeny tiny holes and inching along like a worm – Michele shook her head. She prided herself on her adventurous spirit but spelunking was one activity that she would never, ever try. But the descriptions of the actual caves themselves…the beautiful limestone formations of various kinds – draperies, lily pads, soda straws, cave pearls, stalagmites and stalagtites…she would like to see those.
Michele remembered that when she had checked into this motel, there had been a rack of brochures of various sites in the area, and she was sure she’d seen a brochure for some kind of cavern…. After she finished her bath she’d go take a look.
II.
Michele reclined in bed with a stack of sight-seeing brochures. She’d decided to make off with every single one the motel had to offer, and divide them into topics – sites she’d like to see and write about, and sites she didn’t…but which she’d at least mention so that her readers would at least know about them.
There had actually been a couple of brochures advertising caverns – all of them in northern Virginia. There were the Luray Caverns, which the brochure claimed were the most famous, but there were others within a few miles of each other – the Shenandoah Caverns, the Endless Caverns, the Skyline Caverns, and a few others.
She would go see them all.
Finally, her work for the day done, Michele decided to relax and watch something mindless. The motel had cable with dozens of channels…she didn’t want to watch any crime dramas – too grim, or any sitcoms – no intelligent ones on like the Big Bang Theory were on, only annoying ones with family units featuring precocious and annoying children, a bossy wife and a browbeaten husband…blah. As usual, the only biographies on the Biography channel were that of actors. The NASA channel featured direct video from the space station, but there was no sound, and in any event that wasn’t what she was in the mood for.
Finally she came across the Golf Channel. The 2010 Open at Pebble Beach was being repeated, the one where Irishman Graeme McDowell had won and American Dustin Johnson had had an historic collapse in the first four holes, with the Grand Slam of disasters, triple bogey, double bogey, bogey and par. Michele watched a few holes in aesthetic discontent. 99% of the golfers wore the standard baggy pants that seemed de rigeur on the golf course these days….only Dustin Johnson had worn a well-fitting pair of slacks – and white at that – that fit nicely over his crotch and allowed those who cared for such things to have a bit of eye candy. It was so unfair… the women had to wear the highest of high skirts to show off their legs to the crowd, but the guys, as in practically every other sport, walked around looking like they were in their pajamas. Discrimination, that’s what it was.
Michele sighed, and decided that rather than watch this eye-candy-less sport, she’d go to bed, and get an early start the next morning. She had much to do…and perhaps she’d have some pleasant dreams…
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