A new way to write…

Why is it sometimes so hard to write? How come that the demon inside my head telling me that every little word I write down is just another word in a long line of wasted energy in something nobody will read anyway? Because sometimes, I believe that demon. And by sometimes I mean most of the times. Still, I get something out of my little hobby. I get to do some self-surfing. Try out ideas, make a stand on things I haven’t entirely taken a stand on as of yet and challenge many of my ideas and views.

Too bad, I come out of it as feeling a freak lost on an island and the party is on the other side.

But I do write, and I love to begin sentences with but, though you shouldn’t. OK, I try not to do it when writing my books. So, to lessen my self-inflicted burdens, I have made two changes in my routines.

  1.  I stopped my ongoing books that I wrote in English, and begun a new book. It was an idea that I have had going in the back of my head for a long time.
  2. I allowed myself to explore the idea before manically starting to type away at it. The concept, the idea changed drastically over a week or a ten-days period. From being sort of a teenage book with a more humorous take, it turned into a rather dark and bleak modern magicians and alternate realities sort of book.  It’s still not entirely set though, so I am tweaking it.
  3. I’m no longer writing linear. I instead do my .4 on this list, so well, eh, none linear it was. I allow myself to skip back and forth in the story, writing episodes, chapters etc before and after each other depending more on my mood. This makes it a bit difficult and I have to go back and forth changing things, but it makes it easier to write because some days I can allow myself not just a sweet to the coffee, but also write a part in the book that I have a craving for.
  4. I’m writing down my ideas and support not on the computer, but by hand, in a notebook. Totally nerdy and totally Neil Gaiman’s fault. 😉 It does feel pretty good though. Some days I don’t feel like starting the computer up to type just a few phrases. I then write them by hand and let them sit there, next to my keyboard waiting for me to get inspired.

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  5. Writing on the go. A Cherry MX Red split keyboard. mmmm…..

    Admit your taste for Cherry Mx Switches. OK, nerdy I know, but I do love keyboards. For some time I have been typing on mechanical ones, exclusively  and I do love them. I do like the Blue, but more as a notion rather than for typing. Something about the sound and the feel reminds me of the old school typing machines. Still, my absolute favorite to type with are the Cherry MX Red switches.  So, I now switched back to those instead of trying to get to enjoy my latest investment in a Cherry MX Brown keyboard (the thing so to say in between Cherry Blue and Cherry red switches.)

I don’t have a real passage for you now, and I realize that few, if any, of the very few visitors I have aren’t from Sweden so the next thing published would probably mean nothing, or something chaotic auto translated by Google.

Inspiration from my new book comes from Dark Souls 3, Jim Butcher, Justina Robson, Robert Jordan and well, all things Fantasy and magically heavily mashed up in a blender and sifted through moi’s twisted brain.

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Lexical density, Gunning Fog, Hard words and low self esteem – perils of writing

I haven’t posted much lately. Truthfully I haven’t written as much either. Having all kinds of problems with things sort of puts a dent in your hopes and wishes. Being low, usually means being insecure and being insecure leads to questioning and right now, seeing the progress bar of my work I see the lexical density, the gunning fog and hard word use etc and then I check what it means and i feel like I should just quit.

This makes Panda sad...

Progress of writing

 

 

I mean, how much more abuse should I put my self through, for something that will most likely never leave my own desk? Doubt, fear, anxiety, shame and feeling inadequate in all ways possible, are really not traits that will ease the procedures to actually even try to send any of this anywhere. Too many good authors and writers are failing already, why add to that pile? For the love of the craft? Seriously, it’s not a craft for me. It is escapism, the stories and vivid images invading my head and my mind that I tried to tell myself could be of interest to put down. Sort of a weird idea of documenting the return of creativity.

At first I was happy to have an outlet again. But outlet’s sometimes become too much and sitting here with text amassing to several books in length so far, and realizing that what it represents are simply hours most likely wasted. I even start several sentences with ‘And’ and that despite me learning early that only Stephen King gets away with that. So, should I simply give up? Or try to stick to my native language? Should I keep pushing, or should I simply keep this in the obscurity of my own head, and never ever mention a word of it ever again to anyone?

All these options have merits, and tomorrow I may look upon them in a differnt light. I fear though that for me, I will always come back to this, my own cross-road in my own hell. Standing there with the Deja Vu of my misery and low self esteem wondering which damn road at least won’t lead me back to that damned cross road. The obvious answer is to take the dead end way, but that one is not for me. Only the dark inside me suggest it, teases it and the finality of it bores me. I want so much more. I need something else, but right now, I’m stuck sitting at this cross-road again, not knowing where to turn or where my next step should take me.

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The murder mystery of inspiration

Can’t rightly say why I tended to come back to this place. It was a place where I like to go, despite how it makes me feel. The dim lit locale has this wonderful bar, brass and gold with dark velvet and a big old tree surface. You can see how time of service had broken into the surface. Like this bar had its own story, its own scars and love marks. My glass of red wine was set down in front of me. The bartender looked at me, his eyes asking “Anything else?”  My shake told him “No, I’m good”. I took a sip, felt relaxation settling into my weary body and bones. My mind started that journey where it probed outside my own personal sphere, drinking greedily from everything out of the surroundings. Was this the place that would help me find out the perfect murder mystery? The next great big title? Hmm, I looked around.

Don’t ask me why I picked this place to begin with. The music? Perhaps. The black guy standing on the small stage is moving perfectly to a rhythm building up. Bass and drums and then a piano slowly build up a slow heavy rhythm. It’s fucking perfect. So, I take up my notebook, take my pen out and start by writing a big fucking question mark as the starting point for my new book. A murder mystery about a…?  Something something that gets killed by a…. thingy majong? Yeah, questions.  The guy makes a few noises in the microphone and I know I will lose my concentration. He is hmm:ing in that way only someone really good do.

Recall that I said this place, I don’t know why I picked it? Double that hesitation as to why I’m such a masochist. The guy takes a few topics from the audience and then starts. This MC is rapping like a submachine gun with just a few lines and the flow of words that builds up to the slow rhythm, makes my own efforts look like that of an ant tying to move a leaf as on stage. Like a bull rushing up against the misery, the injustice and how it is to be black in today’s society. I sigh, take another sip, my head moves in that white way, but fuck that. This is so good I just sit and listen. I bite back my thoughts about not being privileged as the words hits a nerve. It’s a consideration of where you are standing when you are saying it. We all look up, and nobody likes being called privileged. It takes away our own struggle, and it makes a mockery of our own misfortunes and more so, our achievements. But here? It’s not the time nor the place to bitch about it. I just enjoy the stream of words complimenting the music.

I look down at my notepad, I have written a few things. Black detective. A singer. A club. All generic and so cliché. I sigh. I also have a big ‘DOUBT’ written at the side. Can I, as a white guy, write about a black detective? I want to. The guy on stage would be my mental image. He looks fit, he is quick and he laughs and still he moves in a powerful way. Probably a boxer, maybe martial artist. He catches enough eyes of the women on the dance floor to fit in the generic role model of a detective. So, is the generic really ready for yet another detective story?

A quick search on Amazon gives me the answer and I toss away the paper with notes. I order more wine, and some peanuts – please. It’s all there, like magic. I make a note to tip well. The guy on stage leaves to applause and people calling out loudly just how good he were. A woman comes out from the room behind the scene. She hugs the guy, steps up to the mic and nods to the drummer, who starts another rhythm. Harder, harsher and angrier. More aggressive, and he hit’s the cymbals with a frenzy. The woman bites in. No words from the crowd, no help. She just bites away, and I put down my pen again. This time I feel shame creeping up from the floor, clings to my leg and slowly claws its way up to take a cold grip of my scalp. So being white is not bad enough. I had to be a man too. I sigh and my character is a strong small woman who is strong and… Another paper flies through the air. I look at the red wine, it’s almost empty. Again? Shit, I know why all characters are white, drunk and miserable now. They are the ego of me, the author. And me the author is like a magnet. Attracting thoughts from the surroundings. It’s just that some things, I simply can’t write down, some things are worse than how I can phrase it. I try to take look at my self in the mirror. I see nothing. I try to open, but I have no filters. It’s all or nothing, and this night? This night, it’s too much. Some things… some things, are just the way they are. The newspapers and Twitter makes you consider suicide at least twenty times before I even consider to write another book, another tweet or even updating your Facebook page. Fuck it. I’m just filled with doubt and having that sensitive vibe going.

I shut my note-book, orders a whisky and the guy gives me a wry grin. It’s not an unusual ritual.

“Having a rough night John?” He asks with a smile and pours me a triple, cheap blend with ice and a small lemon twist and a coke on the side.

“Yeah, every night Damon” I say and nods my thanks. “Shit is real and stuff you know.” I say.

“Yeah, I hear you bro” he says and scopes up the money I laid down for the drinks.

As he reaches for the change in the cash register, I stop him with a gesture.

“We’re good Damon” I say with a thankful nod and sips my abhorrent whisky, that would probably make a Scottish distillery worker cry. I know Damon charged me a single anyway, so a healthy tip is alright.

I turn around and another guy comes up on stage. Same little ritual: he hugs the woman, gives the drummer a nod and a slower heavy beat is starting. He starts slowly, forcefully and build up as the other instruments fill in the void. His voice gives place to the music and goes back to small rhymes, some short lines and the music is tripping all over the place. I do that white man digging again, but with a grin. So fuck ‘em, I like this shit. It’s good and I don’t have to solve the biggest mystery for a detective story tonight, what the fuck to write. Tonight, I just know that music killed the inspiration for murder.

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I as in I as in Introvert but mostly just an Individual…

The last days, a word has started to pop-up and mess around in my head. Introvert. The name isn’t exactly a diagnose, nor is it easily put on somebody as a label. Some people have it but far from all. The label can do more harm than good however since it can turn out to be a fulfilling prophecy of sorts. I.E you start to live like it because you heard it, or were called it.

img_20170207_093022For me, it means that I feel uncomfortable with things like “27 things only introverts understand” etc. i do understand a lot of them, but not all. My Psychiatrist said that’s because everybody are introvert and extrovert. Only those with other diagnoses usually tend to have the diagnosis of being an introvert. Still, in my case, having fatigue syndrome, the introvert aspects of my life will get sort of enhanced due to the side effects of my other illness. Being also a bit of a loner and not the happiest fella in on the block sure does put a damper on things. So, understanding those things are another thing. Being introvert and having the need to recharge after long, or even short, instances of social living or being in a room or place with lots of other beings makes sense. So, I may be or may not be it.

That however makes more sense. The ‘not knowing’ have been my signum comment since after puberty. I just don’t know. I’m a living dadaist waiting for opportunities to fall down on me and I roll with them. Great, some of you might think. Not so great, I have to admit. It works when you are in the right areas, the right fields, with the right people but when you are not? Not so damn good. For me, the best things in life have just happened, they turned up and I said more or less, well OK, let’s go with that. When I have had to strive, worked or fought my ass off to get something I want? Well, disaster might not be the word for it, but not far from it. I don’t think that I have really succeeded in pursuing any goals that I have felt determined or have longed for really. Not purposefully, achieving them. Not one. And if I did, I mean, there may be a few that’s on the fence, I haven’t felt happy or that exhilarating feeling of success. Exhilaration is a feeling I haven’t felt often at all really.

So, I as in I am an Individual, one that just happens to be is frustrating because I try to tell myself I have no dreams, no goals. And truthfully, they are not really there. The ones that may come up? Oh, I squash those ones, quickly and purposefully. And that, I’m, very good at. Sort of the quality you shouldn’t be cheerful for possessing. Anyone needs a demotivator? Anyone too happy? I can help.

So introvert? Yeah, I do have a strong part of that right now. Helps in a way when I try to write. I do write. A lot, I just don’t post it for anyone to see, because, you know, it’s most likely rubbish and nobody going to read it anyway. Oh, did I tell you that I also suffer from a life long low self-esteem? Well, I do. Doubt is strong in this one. But I do write, and type and do my little mind-maps – which I to some degrees caught up ion my own little world put no heed to. I do try to keep all the names there and connections and stuff so that I get at least that correct.

Tips on writing? I have only two: Find out who you are writing for. Yourself? An audience or to get rich and famous or for who? The other is the standard boring answer, but always write. Make it a habit. If you want to make it, I guess you have to become anti-me, you have to learn the business, you must have a really nice unique lovable idea, a good language, a damn good self-esteem, handle critique very well, have an agent, be great at correcting and writing proper grammar or the one thing I don’t have at all: Lucky.
For me, I’m lucky I have decided that I wrote for me. I do fear to delve into that reason though since the quick questions that follows are of course, why? Is it to keep my latest escape make up world come alive and swallow me up from trying to get an ordinary life? Do I escape the hell around me already? Yeah, about that… I’ll have a cup of the, and might be back on that later on…

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Shadowrun Hong Kong

What can I say? I do love these isometric games. This one takes place in the shadows of Hong Kong. The art on the main map you navigate on is absolutely lovely. Colorful and alive. So, what the heck is this, you might wonder. Well, Shadowrun, is a role-playing world to begin with. You have Cyberpunk, magic, and fantasy all mixed up with virtual reality and a world gone totally banana. What I like with this setting, which has orcs, elves, dwarves etc and a wide collection of enemies are how they have made it all fit in so nicely. You can take different problems from our time into this polarized world, like racism, power hungry politicians, greedy people and a cold and dark future with an environment that can kill you.

So the game, I play on PC, I bought on GOG.com and is a slow moving turn based RPG. It is not the fancy third person view game, but an isometric view and only text and music. The game is pretty close to the table top game from where it came originally and that makes it so lovable, for an old dice-thrower as your’s truly.

If you have the craving for a bit of old-school mechanics set in a nice setting with a game that doesn’t min you taking time to enjoy a sip or two of coffee in between your actions, this may very well be something for you. The stories and adventure’s are sort of cliche, but they do fit in nicely and you won’t cringe reading them.

Here you can find out more about the game, and others, by Harebrained Schemes: http://harebrained-schemes.com/games/

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2016, ending of a really bad year.

Not only do we have had to witness a massive loss of talents this year. Artists and celebrities that filled my growing up with pleasant escapes from the daily ordinary life. We are witnessing the unavoidable process of growing older, and with that comes so much death of that we may have identified, looked up to or idolized. So many people we don’t know that still meant so much for us are simply – passing away.

To start naming people that mean something to me seems almost pity, a year like this. I can say that there are many who have passed that still makes me glum and feeling that a world that was mine, of my childhood and youth is now forever gone, or so changed in its fundamental’s, it is as good as lost.

Then we have the entire world going bananas. The election in US, the situation with global terrorism and IS. Refugee’s and the lack of preparation from a world where a few have been sitting safe with most of the money as long as the rest feel like they are doing OK. Now those values are changing and more people are looking around, to find inspiration and hope? Well, sadly, you can’t look up the chain, there are few that really have done anything for you. No, it’s time to look to the people standing next to you, reach out, however uncomfortable that may make you. Can we do it? Well, time will as always be a silent witness to our many mistakes and progresses.

Anything cheerful? Well, in a world that is so chaotic, there are things bound to happen. Creative people are starting to voice their ideas and thoughts. Authors, composers, writers, journalists, movies, TV series etc are full of these new creative ideas and calls for a better world. A more compassionate and sane world. There, is our escape.

For me, this year has on a personal and very egotistic way been a roller coaster of misery, self contemplation and a few successes. I have been rather ill and I haven’t been exactly ‘nice’ to myself. Why should I be, if so few others are, eh? And I’m good at not being nice to myself. When you don’t feel you are good at anything, they few things you do well, you tend to keep doing.  As you might have noticed, this blog is a step in trying to reverse this abysmal feeling I have had and challenge my own self esteem and self perception I have.

Will it succeed?

Only time…

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ISOBEL Short story In the Club (After crimson knight)

ISOBEL Short story In the Club (After crimson knight) this is a short story set in my fictitious world of a character named Isobel. Theme is Urban Fantasy with a twist of horror (not really scary though) and supernatural. The real thing is the social experience and how people interact with each other.

Isobel checked the addresses once more before sending it out. She had felt stupid when Veronica had reminded her that she had not really introduced her to her friends. So, she tried to recall what friends she had here. Not many. On her list were Sandra and Johnny, of course, but also Steven from the ‘Warehouse’ and her oldest brother Manus and his partner John. That’s about it she thought. She had more. Agent Miller and Tan would have been nice to invite. Tan had responded that he couldn’t attend, still recovering from some wounds Too many stitches and the painkillers made him buzz still. Miller had said he was in no mood for dancing. His leg still hurt and he had promised his wife to take her on a weekend trip this very weekend. Perhaps Dr Armita? Or Dr Lena Offsteader, but to invite your shrink, however nice she was, to a party, felt wrong. Dr Armita, she didn’t know what to make of her yet. She definitely seemed nice but she couldn’t tell if that one had some other feeling for her or not. Perhaps Isobel just had a weird definition of friendship? She had lost some friends over the year and had not many to begin with, so she really strained herself here trying to find out if there were anyone else? There was this half Finnish girl in the reception that she talked to sometimes getting to work, but no. Really not that many. Her neighbors? Nope, not really. She decided that it had to be a small gathering. Send – now it was done. Isobel couldn’t really decide if she felt frighten because she had so few friends or if it was because she was really going to out herself for the ones she had. Never mind that she was in a girl on girl relationship, she was being in a dominant relationship with a Dhampir. Everything that sounded wrong with either description sort of disappeared as she pictured Veronica smiling at her in her mind. Fuck it!

So, here they were, and no Veronica. The club was fancier sort of club with dancefloor, and nice booths so they could eat, drink or talk at their leisure. To appease Veronica, or well to make Veronica know she really desired her and appreciated her, she had a dark blue bell bottom dress with short straight sleaves and a white line hemming. The entire dress had this line, except on the right arm. She had high heels, or for her they were, and around her neck she had a blue velvet choker. She had her necklace on that she had received from her as well. Her two thumbrings were as always in place. Her now very light blonde hair she had in a long pony tail with a a small braid on her left side. Isobel felt a bit lonely, and imagined that Johnny might as well, as they were the only ones not with dates, so far. Sandra had broght Harold and Manus had brought his wife, Clare. John chatted with Johnny however and the two seemed to have a good time. She caught a movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head. Across the dancefloor Veronica made her entrance. She walked like a modell, in her high heels she was a tall godess gliding across the room. Her slim body had curves on the right places. Veronica was sporting a tight black little dress that came to half her thighs, stayups that left an inch or so of bare soft fair skin. Her dark brown eyes sometimes eflected a corona of golden in her irises and her long dark black hair with a tint of purple flowed behind her. Gods be merciful, but this perfect being was her girlfriend. Veronica had her eyes set on one thing. Her. She was like a predator stalking its prey. The first to notice was Sandra that saw that Isobel looked with half open mouth across the dancefloor and nudged Harold. Isobel noticed it in the corner of her eye. And then the tall Dhampir was there in front of her, bowed over from hips, cupped her face gently in her hands and kissed her. She didnt’ know if she imagined that the place got more silent of not, but the table was dead silent at least. Finally Veronica let her go, with a wink of her eye to her.
“Hello love” she said and smiled.
“Hi Roni”” Isobel smiled wide and blushed from the kiss and greeting.
“Hi, I’m Veronica” she said and extended her hand to Sandra who sat closest “You must be Sandra, right?” Veronica said and smiled.
“Hello, Veronica, yes, I’m Sandra. So good to meet you finally!” Sandra was all smiles. “This is my boyfriend, Harold.”
“Hiya, I’m Harold!” Said Harold and looked cheepish.
Sandra rolled her eyes a bit.
“Hello, I’m Johnny, Isobel’s partner. I think we’ve met briefly.” Johnny said and extended his hand.
“Yeah, I recall” Veronica said and nodded. “During Isobel’s first mission I belive?” she looked at Isobel who nodded.
“Yeah, correct. Nice to meet you again Veronica.”
“Likewise Johnny. Nice to meet the man that looks after my little Fairy” she smiled and even grinned showing that she had picked up their nickname for Isobel.
Sandra made a meaningful look to Isobel and mimed a “WOW” and fanned her hand to say she thought Veronica was hot. Isobel just smiled. Sandra wasn’t wrong.
“Hi, I’m Manus, Isobel’s eldest brother” Manus said and extended his hand. “This is my wife Clare” he said and introduced Clare.
“Oh we met” Clare said and smiled at Veronica.
“Yeah, hi Clare, nice to see you again. We met at your dad’s. I even met your kids Manus!” Veronica smiled.
“Oh, wow, well, I’m last to know as usual…”
“Quite the detective!” Isobel grinned and shot her brother a jab.
“This is my partner John” he said and introduced John.
“Hi Veronica, love your dress, and those shoes. Dolce?” he said and squinted his eyes.
“Yes they are” Veronica said with a small smile of surprise.
Manus just smiled and shook his head.
“Well, they suite you really well!” John said and smiled. “Oh, and I consider myself an extra stand-in brother for Isobel!” He said and winked to Isobel.
Isobel winked back and smiled. She and John had found each other quite quickly.
Veronica sat down next to Isobel and kissed her once more.
“Hey there cutey, who are you eh?” She said and winked.
“Oh, me, I’m just some blonde waiting for a tall dark stranger to take me home…” She said and looked with mild enthusiasm at Veronicas lame joke.
“Well, I’m tall and dark…” She said with a smile. “Sorry I’m late” she whispered. “Damn game took longer to finish than I had anticipated.” She smiled appollgeticly.
“Did you win?” Isobel asked.
“Yeah I did!” Veronica grinned wide. “Have you been a good girl? I may buy you something nice!” she winked again and snuggled Isobel with a big smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, do you play poker?” Sandra broke in. “Like online or real, face to face with people-poker?” Sandra showed interest.
“Mostly online, and face to face online in private clubs or casino rooms without television or something as such” Veronica said and smiled. She placed a hand on Isobel’s thigh. “What are you drinking love?” She quickly asked Isobel.
“I just had one drink from the welcome wagon as we came in here. The guys are trying the ales, Sandra and Clare went for some cider of some sort and I waited for you.”
“What for? I could have been even more late you know” Veronica said and laughed.
“Well, remebmer I met you when you stood tending a bar and showed me that really fine bubbly wine? That Italian Spumante, right?”
“Right, see you are a quick learner blondie!” Veronica winked again and double the memroy lane with her first nickname for her, one she used still, very affectionately.
“Yeah, well, anyway, I was thinking that I have like one or two standard drinks and only two sparklings I try, so I was going to yield to your greater experience to surprise me with a nice drink. Got anything our of the ordinary?”
“How about we start of with an oldie instead? How would you like a Fidel Castro?”
“A Fidel Castro?” Isobel almost laughed it out.
“Yeah, gin, ginger ale and one lime. Loads of ice.”
“Sure, I’m game!” Isobel smiled.
“Oh, I think I want to try one as well!” Sandra said.
They ordered and got their drinks quickly. They had good service at this place.
“I’m sorry Sandra, we got sidetracked there for awhile. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss about poker?” Veronica said and turned to Sandra.
Isobel cheered with Johnny and John.

The night progressed nicely and everyone had a good time. Isobel and Veronica was up on the dance floor a few times. Veronica was quite nice to her, but she did start her little games, just as she had warned her. She wanted to show everyone that Isobel was hers. But while she played with her, caressed her and steered her and stuff like that, Isobel had a great time. She didn’t mind. Not even when Veronica necked her up on the dancefloor and held her with the choker and one hand behind her neck holding her in place as she let her tounge penetrate Isobels mouth slowly and repeatedly. The others saw, she was cerain but she didn’t mind. As they sat and waited for their third pair of drinks, Veronica excused herself and went for the ladies room. She had barely left before Sandra dove down next to Isobel, her eyes large and hungry with questions. Isobel looked at her and she just smiled at her.
“What?” Isobel said almost tiredly.
“Hey, you and that tall babe, she a domme or something?” Sandra said and winked her eyes.
Tricky, Isobel thought, but bit her lower lip and nodded to Sandra.
“Shit girl!” She said with a small laugh. “Latex and dominatrix? So she really do tie you up and spank you eh?” Sandra laughed aloud.
“Hey! Not… not all the time OK…” Isobel said and felt her cheeks turning hot.
“Hey, I don’t judge Fairy. Is she good to you?” More concern in her face now.
“Yeah, she really is Sandra. She is really taking care of me. Helps me with my self esteem shit and stuff and well, she does spoil me a bit… She is, well I really love her Sandra.” Isobel confessed.
“Duh! I can see that. Shit, she moved you around like her private little love-toy out there for awhile and you looked like well, you could start charging money in a few seconds…” Sandra grinned. She was a naughty minded girl, and her best friend. “So, is it one way street? Only you who crawl around on all four at hom, eh?” She nudged Isobel.
“Hey, what do you think about us really?”
“Only really naughty stuff. I bet you got good use of the squeaky toy I gave you eh?” Sandra would soon split her head in two if her grin grew wider. That squeaky toy was an anal training toy she had given Isobel once she learned that Isobel had a sore bum after a hot night with Veronica.
“Well” Isobel started “It has seen some use at least…”
“Ohh, if squeaky could speak….” She winked and gave her a hug.
“So how are things on your end?” Isobel nodded towards Harold who taken a seat next to Manus and Johhny.
“Oh, well, my interest in your kinky love-life is because mine is everything but kinky right now.” She sighed.
“Hey babe, whats up?” Isobel asked and felt concern well up.
“Oh, I don’t know, since we talked, things aren’t going better and I just can’t seem to find the right time to ditch him. You got another ones of those fetish diva dommes that likes a bit of Irish?” Sandra gave a sad smile.
“No, but if we need to, we will find you one who spanks you up well enough, don’t you worry!” Isobel smiled and hugged her.
“Hey guys!” Veronica said and slid down next to them again. She managed to give them both a hug and kissed Isobel on the cheek.
“Hey babe!” Isobel said and hugged her tightly, and let one arm stay around Veronicas waist as she sat down after the hug.
“Hey, you got any other funny named drinks Veronica? I feel like getting hammered tonight!” Sandra laughed.
“OH, my, the Irish in you getting lose?” Veronica smiled.
“Always cutie!”
“How about a sweet one? Chanel no 12?” Veronica said.
“What’s that?” Isobel laughed.
“Oh, it’s pineapple juice and sparkling wine.”
“Great, bring ’em on!” Sandra laughed and called for the waiter.

Three small drink glasses stood in front of them. Clare decided to join them, as did John.
“Drinks, damn, I have missed out. I love drinks!” John said with a smile. “Can I taste yours Iso?”
“Sure go ahead John!” Isobel laughed.
“Damn, that was sweet and nice. Waiter, one, oh you want one as well Clare? Two more of these please? Great!” he smiled and sat down.
“The ‘dudes'” Clare said with a dark voice “are talking baseball and football versus soccer.” she shook her head.
“Shit, do we even have decent teams at that?” Sandra said and finsihed her drink.
“No, we are doing shit in baseball and football, we suck in as well. We hardly have a decent football college. I guess we do have a decent Soccer team though. Plenty of europeans at the campus is my guess.” Isobel stated.
“How the heck do you know that?” Veronica laughed.
“Hey, I had to communicate with my dad and my brothers. They do so in morse and sports I figure…”
“And here I thought you ripped out pages of Gun Digest and made scribbled notes…”
“hah hah hah, very funny.” Isobel said and stuck her tounge out.
Her tounge got caught by Veronica though. Damn, she was on fire tonight.
“Get go oh ma onge pease?” Isobel tried.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Shit, your look Fairy, priceless!” Sandra laughed so hard she almost fell out of the sofa. She was definately boozing it tonight.
Veronica let her go with a grin and winked her eye with an almost dangerous flash of underlying appetite for her. She let her go, but made sure Isobel had her hand around her waist again and moved close to her.
“Damn ladies. This drink was really good. How about something else?” John said and looked pleased that he had switched to sit with the ladies. John was good at sports and had been a great athlete in colelge Isobel knew. He just prefered to talk fun and drink cocktails instead of ale.
“How about a French 75?” Veronica said.
The rest of them was mostly in a what? state and decided that Veronica could just order and they drink from now on. Veronica smiled and ordered in the drinks. Clare and Sandra was having a good time. John was really on fire and took Isobel up on the dancefloor. When the music changed to a slow song, Veronica broke in with a smile. She moved up close to Isobel and sort of melted together with her. Her thigh slowly moved between Isobels legs. Veronica was really pushing it and Isobel bit her lower lip, she let it happen. Damn, it felt so good to be out and have fun for once in her life. Being in Veronicas hands was a great way for her to relax. Weird as it was, but it felt so good and she felt relaxed. Even as Veronica took a fistful of her hair and bent her head backwars as she pressed her close and really moved her thigh up Isobels crotch and kissed her deeply she felt OK with it. It’s OK she thought. I’m an agent….

The night had ended late. Isobel had started to order alcohol free drinks after a time without the others noticing. Manus and Clare had shared a cab with John and Sandra and Harold had taken a cab as well. Johnny had already left them, he had found a nice girl in the bar and was off on his own romantic adventures. Isobel lay in Veronicas lap and enjoyed her hair and head being patted. Veronica had taken her in the elevator, in the hallway and then on the sofa. The sex had been rough, passionate and very direct. Veronica had worked up a frenzy in the club and she was all over her. Isobel liked it. She had felt so wanted. She had given as good as she had been given as well and both enjoyed a late movie about, well something, it was mostly a distraction and relaxed in each othes comfort.
“So did you get a chance to talk about me?” Veronica said with a hint of knowing in her voice.
“What?”
“You and Sandra, damn but you can see that she really haven’t gotten over letting you go girl..” Veronica smiled. “Too bad for her that your mine now!” She kissed Isobel on the head.
“Yeah, well we talked a bit. She wanted one like you for herself” Isobel stated.
“Oh, Harold not enough to put out the fire?” the joke was pretty funny.
“Seems he is not manning the pump enough…” Isobel said trying to keep up on the theme.
“Not hoosing her down?” Veronica laughed at their silly jokes.
“No, oh now I feel bad for joking about her misery” Isobel said sadly.
“Hey, don’t. She have to make up her mind. She is a hot irish redheaded girl. She will have not problem attracting attention that one!” Veronica smiled. “So you two eh?”
“Yeah” Isobel stated shortly.
“OK, I won’t push” Veronica said and started to massage Isobels scalp.
“Ohhhhh damn that’s good…”
“So what did you say?”
“She asked if you were good to me and took good care of me. She also thinks I’m crawling around on all fours when you haven’t tied me up for a good spanking…”
“Oh, she gives good ideas…” Veronica laughed lightly.
“Hah hah hah.”
“So what did you say?”
“About crawling around getting spanked?”
“No, about me taking good care of you or not?”
Isobel tilted her head slightly so she could see Veronica. “What do you think silly?” She said with a smile. “I told her you are good to me. Really good to me. The best!” She hugged Veronicas leg.
“I really try love!” Veronica whispered and continued to massage her scalp.
“Mmmm, you are doing a great job. So what do you see in me?”
“Apart from the great sex? The hot warrior type who can go on for hours in bed? Who lets me have my way with her but still opposes me sometimes and makes this so damned fun and hot? You mean more than your lovely smile, your kind words to me, the way you hug me and look at me sometimes and the way you make me smile and care? Hmm, must be your great taste in coffee and women I guess..” Veronica said and grinned.
“Heh, yeah, can’t argue with those two, I really do have good taste in coffee and women!” Isobel laughed but got cut short as she went into purring nicely when Veronica massaged her even more.

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