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Fame attracts, regardless.
Welt ~ 1

I Sought Refuge In A House Of Fire…

“Get out of my way ‘cause you know that I am totally wasted…”

…and then the keyboard came in, and then the beat and the bass, and then the words. She shifted her hips back and forth with her knees on either side of my left leg, pressing herself against the top of my thigh from time to time, mouthing along with the lyrics under the strobe light.

“…even if it means a deal with the devil…”

The beat came back. Her black painted lips made her tongue look a bright red and she licked them with it and snaked her hips back and forth from the waist as she bent her knees and lowered herself in front of me, then slid her hands up my thighs and chest as she came rhythmically back up. She touched the bottom of my chin with one black nail and bobbed her hip to the left as she turned in place on the heel of her platform boots. Her short tight PVC skirt stretched across her ass as she pushed it back in small movements against my pelvis. The curve of her waist, exaggerated by her black velvet corset, felt hard in my hands as they slipped around her. She reached up over her vibrant fire engine red hair with its dark black roots, pulled up into two ragged looking pigtails with her sharply sheared bangs just below her eyebrows, and put her hands behind my neck and leaned against me while she writhed to the music.

“…I hear screams of a thousand virgins…”

She made a quick turn and my hands slid off her stomach from where they were about to cradle the bottom of her full breasts, pushed up and together like soft whites spheres of sex. She narrowed her eyes at me and kept singing along with the unfamiliar song, fucking me with her stare.

“…just waiting to be reborn…”

I wasn’t big on introductions so I didn’t know her name; when I’d been introduced all I could focus on were those beautiful breasts. She’d seen me seeing them and hadn’t seemed to care, she’d taken me by the hand and led me onto the dance floor without another word, and she’d started winding her body around near me or against me. The song changed, distorted and primal and tense, and the darkly clad people around us responded as if to a drug. Places like this were often overtly sexual, it’s why I stayed away from them despite my notoriety, and tonight was no different. That wasn’t true, tonight I was part of it too. A moment of shyness passed over me, followed by a burst of anxiety which turned to excitement as she did another turn and took a step away from me, cocking her hips backwards to stick her ass out towards me while she tapped her heel and shifted her shoulders to the heavily processed industrial beat coming from all around us.

Without warning, she stood straight and turned around with a wicked glint of danger in her unnatural green stare, contacts that gave her metallic sparkling irises and threw off little glints under the flashing lights. She bared her teeth. She took me by the hand, saying something I couldn’t hear over the music, and led me through the crowd to the bar. She ordered two shots, the bartender’s rings clinked against each other and the bottles as he poured from two of them at a time into the little glasses. He flipped his long black hair over one shoulder and she paid him. Turning to me she licked around the entire circle of her black lips and then put the glass between them and tipped her head back, draining the glass with no hands. As I tipped mine back and drank its sickly sweet syrupiness down I saw her hold her head there like that, leaned all the way back at the neck with the shot glass against her teeth and lips wrapped around its rim, licking the inside of it with her supple little tongue. I thought to myself I should probably at last ask her her name before I brush her off.

Yes, she was hot and turned me on. It was exhilarating; but I was married. Not to her. Not to anyone that would understand where I was right now and what was going on. When I’d shot it I’d had no idea that it would be soaked up and almost worshipped by this type of crowd. My agent insisted I went out to some of these events, insisted that I at least tried to dress the part and look more like those that had flocked to my work, insisted that I at least pretend to be part of their whole scene. I’d never seen recognition like I had in the last three months and the money that had started flowing in was new to me. The people it was flowing in from were new to me too.

When I saw it happening I grabbed my camera immediately and started filming. As she came down from sky naked with her wings spread, ashes falling from them to the stained concrete of the alley nearby, I didn’t ever imagine that I’d be famous. She knelt naked beside the old homeless man in the alley, taking his chin in her small gentle hand, and kissed him on the lips. He’d turned to soft ash while I filmed with an open mouth and a feeling like a seizure building in the back of my head, his body drifting down from where she’d touched him like winter. The shot shook and shimmied while I’d reeled in disbelief as she inhaled the ash with one small draw into her lungs and turned to look at me. Her lips had mouthed something I still couldn’t decipher, the sounds of stone scraping stone and metallic whispers coming from her. She had leapt from her crouch into the air with her wings straight back, gaining half a building of altitude before drawing them up and thrusting them down, propelling her skyward into a point of vanishing light. My hands had shook, my heart had pounded in my chest, and sweat had soaked my back and forehead.

No one knew it was real. I knew I couldn’t tell anyone. It had taken me three weeks before I showed my agent the footage. He tried to force me to tell him how I’d pulled it off but I just lied and said it was my secret. Come to think of it, that wasn’t much off a lie. It was a secret. I didn’t want to be crazy; sure, it was real, I had the footage, but no one would believe that and I’d be locked up. I’d set it to music, finding a piece called “Fallen Angel Take Me” by some industrial band I’d never heard of; I didn’t even listen to that kind of music, I just Googled a few words and that’s what I came up with. My agent had insisted on a viral campaign, trying to get it to build online momentum on its own. It had worked, but the crowd that picked it up was not what I’d expected. I’d become an underground sensation in the grimy basement-club industrial/goth subculture simply because of my rather random choice of music for the video. Since then it had been chaos. Video shoot requests from bands I’d never heard of, special effects work from horror films, interest in my stark black & white photography. I saw the chance to drift from my fifteen minutes of internet fame into something truly meaningful and financially rewarding but had been terrified to commit to any of it…after all, I hadn’t done anything special. I’d been in the right place; that was all.

My agent had pushed though, and I’d accepted a couple of things. Things I thought I could pull off. She’d pushed and here I was, about to do another shot of who-knew-what-liquor with the red haired sex demon that had been gyrating against me on the dance floor just moments ago.

“So you’re really him, huh!?” she yelled over the synth-laden music, licking her lips again from the sticky liquid she had shot down her throat second before. “The guy from that video!”

“That’s me,” I said, not really having to try in order to sound interested. I was interested; in her though, not in talking about me. I was just drunk enough not to stop myself; just drunk enough to forget my wife for a moment. I gestured to the large screen, one of several at odd angles facing the dance floor where they could project psychedelic imagery at the wildly writhing crowd of black dye and leather, on which played a loop of the angel coming from the sky. “That’s mine.”

“Everyone probably asks you how you shot that!” she yelled, leaning her breasts against my chest so she could lean her mouth up by my ear. “Wanna share your secret?”

I just smiled crookedly and shook my head. She narrowed one eye at me and shook her finger in disappointment. She was bobbing her hip to the beat again; eyeing the dance floor, then me, then the dance floor, then me.

“Want to get out of here!?” she yelled after her brief contemplation.

“I have to tell my agent I’m leaving!” I shouted back into her ear. I noted the piercings; a bar through the cartilage of the top curve, a stud through the little lump in front, a round and fat black stud the width of my thumb stretching her earlobe. I wasn’t as drunk as I thought; my wife flashed through my mind. Was she sitting at home wringing her hands waiting for me, or was that just my ego building an image of need while she was more likely asleep?

“I’ll be outside the back door!” the red and black dyed object of my temptation yelled.

I went back to where our table was, beside the DJ booth and behind the speakers facing the packed floor. Finding Cheryl, my agent, I told her I was leaving. She looked aware, not surprised. She was probably used to the behavior of the cult-famous; she handled more than just me on her roster of misfits and bizarrely provocative talent. Her friends, the ones that had introduced me to the sultry siren calling me away from reason and into the black embrace of temptation, just smirked or elbowed each other knowingly.

Outside I found her. She was standing in the circle of orange light spilled to the dirty concrete by the single light above the parking lot. She looked dirty and sexy and ready and as she took one long last pull from her clove cigarette she looked over and winked, smoke curling from her nose and parted lips in lazy languid tendrils. Tossing the last of it to ground she slowly ground it under her thick square heel while she looked at me with a smoldering stare.

“Ready to get out of here, then?” she asked. Her voice, now that I could hear it, was smoky and seductive. “Where’s your car?”

I pointed to the black Lexus parked nearby. It had cost me more than I wanted to admit; more than I could afford until the last several months. Paying it off in one stroke of the pen had felt good. I watched her stalk with predator poise towards the car, running her black-nailed fingers along the line of the trunk and up the roof as she walked to the passenger door. I clicked the button on the keys, heard the slight ‘thunk’ of the doors unlocking, and we got in. She slid into the seat next to me and turned towards me with her left thigh along the console between us and her right knee pulled up to her left. She leaned on the console with her left hand and caressed my right upper arm with her other as I started the engine and backed out of the dark parking lot.

“Can we go to your place?” she asked, her head leaned down so she could look at me from under her bangs with a darkly seductive look.

“I’m too far from here,” I answered. I was nervous. She was so…postured. She was like a cat about to spring on something and rend at it. “You?”

“Mine’s not that far, turn right,” she replied.

“I couldn’t hear your name inside,” I said; desire was tempered by distance and I thought of my wife again, sitting at home worrying in my imagination. Conversation was my forte and a survival instinct from deep inside my psyche retreated into it, trying to build a barrier between my lust and my better judgment.

“Miranda,” she said, smirking slyly, “but my friends call me Miranda.”

“So what do you do, Miranda?” I knew when I said it I sounded stupid.

“Really? Oh fuck man, who cares?” Miranda replied, lighting another cigarette. I didn’t allow smoking in my car. I said nothing though, instead opening the sunroof and cracking the windows. She exhaled a big cloud of spicy smelling smoke. “What do you do, besides taking pictures of angels?”

“I take pictures and shoot video, that’s actually it,” I replied, feeling distant from myself, like I was watching from the back seat as I drove to some strange goth girl’s house to fuck her, trying not to think of Bethany at home waiting for me.

She smirked and then snickered, smiling almost savagely, “Yeah, no shit man. Everyone knows that. SO tell me…how did you make it look so real.

“I can’t tell you that,” I said to Miranda as she smoked and simmered next to me while I slalomed through traffic and twisted through turns. “Everyone asks, but I can’t tell you.”

“Fine then.” she said, her expression turning bored for a second before a thought came to her and her face faltered frantic. “Can you make me look like the girl in your video?”

I winced inwardly. She wasn’t the first to ask. I still didn’t know how to answer this question. I stumbled over various responses in my mind, flailing fruitlessly at the static responses I’d worked out with Cheryl. It all just sounded like so much bullshit. I opted for obtuse, “Not really; that takes a certain someone to pull off.”

Miranda sat straight in the seat, looking like she was trying to figure out what to say next to the famous person driving the car she sat in. She tugged absent mindedly at one of her stylishly disheveled pigtails, biting her black bottom lip before turning to face me and asking, “Want me to show you my ‘certain someone’?”

Bethany. Beautiful Bethany. She was in bed, sleeping, waiting for me to crawl back from the black and baneful and into the banal. The banal and boring. The missionary, the obligatory licks and strokes, the post coitus embrace that felt sticky to me instead of staid and stoic. Stupid, stationary, strained; I shook my head and saw myself stand on a threshold and step over.

“Sure,” I said to Miranda, taking a sidelong glance at her inky and liquid sexuality.

She smiled and lifted her ass from the seat, her thumbs pushing up under her black PVC skirt and hooking the strings of her black thong. One side, then the other, then the other, then the other; she pulled slightly at the sides and worked it lower. When it was around her knees she spread them, stretching it between them, the simple action of parting her thighs moving the small plastic garment up on her hips and exposing the skin of her delicate pussy. A closely trimmed patch of dark hair formed a triangle that pointed downwards just above her closed lips. She shifted her shoulders against the seat, arching her spine and pushing her chin to the top of her raised and compressed breasts. Miranda looked at me from the corner of her eyes as she licked her lips, luridly sucked her long-nailed and black tipped finger into her mouth to the last knuckle, and then used the pad of her wet middle finger to tease open her tiny opening.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked with a practiced coquettishness, rubbing the top of her slit in small circles with her extended digit. “Do you want me to suck your fat cock and then slide it into my pussy?”

My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel, my pulse pounding a swift and steady pace in my veins. I knew I should stop, say no…say something. Instead I gripped the wheel tighter and nodded, needing to go further. I could feel an abandon, a reckless and rabid rearing of raw and rough lust. I flicked my gaze to the right again to see Miranda slip her finger into herself, wincing slightly at the sharp sensation of her switchblade nail sliding through her sex. I was held rapt by the visceral and very vivid scene beside me. She moved her finger in and out, slowly, looking over at me with a glowing and glaring sensuality. I could see the gutter in her gaze, her eyes painting pictures of groping and gripping gyrations all over me.

My phone rang.

Looking at the call display, shocked back to sentience by the possibility it was Bethany, I saw a number I didn’t recognize. I hit the ‘silence’ button on the screen and looked back to Miranda. She simmered and smoldered and writhed and wound around in the seat with her finger buried inside of her. She took in a breath that was more hiss than heave and humped her hips down hard at her hand.

“Turn off here,” she said forcefully, taking her finger from her pussy and pulling her panties over her parted thighs to place them over her petite pelvis.

I followed her brief and breathy directions, pulling up after a short while in front of a fourplex. Miranda got out of the car like syrup pouring from a bottle, striking the curb with her heels before undulating her body out into the dark air of the night from knee to shoulder and looking over the roof of my car at me. I locked the doors with a press of the button and followed her straight strut up the sidewalk. She stopped and stuck her key in the lock with a straight stab and threw the door open dramatically. I wanted to ask, “who the fuck are you?” but instead I just followed her dumbly, Bethany far away and distant from my dick-dimmed mind. There was no blood in my brain. It was all below, building in a boiling bloom beneath my belt. Bethany who?

In the dark of her doorway, Miranda slammed the door when I was through and leaned her chest against mine. Her lips were open already when they met mine, her mouth moving as she moaned and kissed me. My hands closed on her narrow waist, closing over the soft velvet and silk strings of the corset. With her tongue pushing back at mine while I probed the inside of her mouth I pulled her against me and slid my hands over her hips and grabbed her ass. It was soft, just so much, so that my fingers only found slight purchase before feeling the firmness beneath. She parted from our wet kiss, tracing her tongue over my lips before biting my bottom lip softly and then releasing it from her teeth to speak.

“Come into my bed,” she breathed at me, taking me by the hand and pulling me through her dark living room, down her dark hall, and into her dark bedroom.

As soon as Miranda was in her bedroom she darted between me and the door, pushing it closed behind her with her ass as she clutched at the bottom of her breasts with both hands. She pushed off the door with a backwards thrust of her hips and threw her arms around me as she toppled us onto the bed. Pinned beneath her, I thought of the first time I had slept with Bethany, four years ago. As I grabbed Miranda’s ass in my hands and pulled her crotch against my throbbing cock I thought of how Bethany wasn’t anything like this; no thirst, no drive, no passion. I bit Miranda’s tongue while it was wiggling inside my mouth and she squealed. She put her hands on my shoulders and lifted her torso up, grinding her pelvis against me, my hard cock against her eager pussy. Looking down into my eyes with her sparkling green contacts she stretched her mouth into a wide lazy grin as her whole face lit up with a dark and dangerous doom, descending on me like a deep discord. Something seemed suddenly very wrong; I felt bad, broken…baneful.

But I also felt born again.

Before I knew what I was doing my hand had slid down Miranda’s ass to the back of her thigh and back up again, pushing her plastic skirt up and placing my palm on her perfect ass, poking up where she was perched atop my pelvis. I pulled her closer to me, my prick grinding harder against her pussy. She pulled away, putting her ass on the bed beside me and pulling her panties down past her black plastic-looking boots and pitching them across the bedroom. The orange streetlight from outside illuminated the scene as she put her left knee between my thighs and pushed her torso up on her right elbow and reached for my belt with her left hand. Thus undone I watched her climb between my legs on her hands and knees and slither downwards as she slowly slipped my pants to my ankles. Going on her knees to the floor at the foot of her bed Miranda pulled my shoes off and threw them hard against the wall with two hollow ‘thumps’, the left and then the right, before roughly yanking my pants over my ankles and then looking dangerously over the end of the mattress at me. Her fingers gripped the edge, her eyes narrowed in a violent display of animal lust, and she slithered up and over between my calves.

Miranda gripped my knees tightly in her hands and shoved my legs apart, licking and pouting her black lips. On her knees, with them apart, her bare pussy was just visible below the bottom of her glossy skirt. She leaned down with her face to where my cock throbbed, licking it on the underside with the flat of her tongue from base to tip. Miranda looked into my eyes, laughed a soft “ha” and licked again; she came up low, her breasts lowering onto my cock so I could feel it pressing into her corset-elevated cleavage. Looking at me lasciviously Miranda licked her lips full circle one more time and pushed her body sharply upwards, towards me. Her scantily clad body slid up on me and I felt my naked cock press against her naked pussy. “Heh ha” she chuckled, almost too casually, grinding her wet pussy’s lips down on to my hard cock. My hands had found her bare ass, the sharp plastic hem of the bottom of her PVC skirt hitting my wrists.

Miranda snaked her tongue in and out of my mouth twice, long and lingering and lurid, and then sat sharply upwards. She brought her knees tight against my hips, raising her pelvis above me, and straightened her back, arching it slightly backwards at the waist. Her right hand reached behind her ass and gripped the bottom of my raging erection, tilting it upwards to her waiting opening; her left slid down her exposed midriff, over the front of her miniscule skirt, and teased open her lips like she had in the car earlier. Stretching herself open with her index and ring fingers of her right hand Miranda placed the head of my cock at the mouth of her waiting pussy and paused…pulsing her lips against my prick. Pushing downwards after her pause she pushed me past in one downward movement of her pelvis.

“Oh…oh…” she sighed as I slid slowly inside. She clutched at the bottom of her already blossoming breasts and squeezed.

Her red pigtails bobbed on her bare upper chest as she ground herself up and down on my cock. As I slid my hands up her bare thighs and clutched at her hips through her almost-not-there PVC skirt I pushed up in to her, feeling every inch of the inside of her along my shaft. Each time Miranda reached the bottom of her slow and deep grind I could feel my head colliding with the depths of her pussy. Each time she bottomed out on me she let out a loud and sharp “AH!” in her smoky, sultry voice. Her hands gripped more fiercely at her swollen breasts, her eyes squeezed shut harder, her neck leaned back further, her mouth opened further, her movements gained more gravity as she rocked herself up and down on top of me, and her cries grew louder.

Miranda’s hips began shocking themselves up and down, forward and back, in short sharp movements of her waist. Bethany didn’t fuck like this. I lost all self control and forgot about the rest of my life. I gripped Miranda’s hips harder and helped her thrust herself up and down on my cock as my cries joined hers. She leaned suddenly forward and bit my shoulder, hard.

“You like getting fucked like this?” she asked amidst her ragged breaths and frenzied thrusting. She spiked in volume as she bucked her hips harder and faster atop of me, “You like to have a dirty little girl fuck you!?”

“Yeah,” I panted, my voice hoarse in a way I’d never heard it before, “I like to fuck little girls like you.”

“Then fuck me, mister! Fuck me like a bad girl…” Miranda cried as she sat up straight on top of me with my cock all the way in her pussy and started rocking her hips rapidly forward and back, “…fuck me like a bad little slut!”

I dug my fingers into her plastic clad hips hard enough to leave bruises when she would look tomorrow and thrust up into her eager groping gap, my ass leaving the mattress with each press, lifting her in the air as she screamed her agony and ecstasy. I could feel the head of my cock slamming deep inside of her and a savage urge took hold of me. As Miranda’s pigtails bounced wildly against her straining cleavage I pounded my cock upwards into her one last lime, making her knees jump off the bed on either side of me. I grabbed her by the throat with my left hand and her left hip with my right and threw her off of me onto her back on the bed beside me.

Miranda spread her legs wide; she straightened them to their length and ran her hands from her hips down her thighs to her knees, where she gripped with her nails and pulled herself open below me. I ran from the bottom of her ass with one hand up to the back of her knee, clenched it hard, and took my cock in the other and stabbed it into her wet and waiting pussy.

“GAAAAH!” she screamed as I rammed into her, slamming my hips into hers as I hit the very limit of her ability to accept my length.

I pulled out almost all the way and slammed deep back inside several more times, each time Miranda cried out as she had before. Her screams were turned to choked sobs as my grip tightened on her throat. If I did this to Bethany she’d hit me. I violently moved my other hand from Miranda’s hip to the flat of her stomach and pressed down. Her throat gripped tightly in one hand, my other holding her down from above, I looked deep in her eyes as I rammed my cock in and out of her; all the way out ,all the way in, over and over again as hard as could.

Something unfamiliar gripped me. I felt a primal urge and followed it. Taking Miranda by her hip bone in one hand and her throat in the other I pulled out of her and rolled over onto my back, yanking her over on top of me and shoving her pliable body down between my legs. One hand still slung to her throat, the other free now. She looked up at me, almost as if in alarm, and I used my free hand to clutch the base of my cock and point it at her mouth. I released her throat with my other and grabbed the back of her skull. She obligingly opened her mouth, and as I lined my dick up with her waiting lips I thrust upwards with my hips and pushed down with my other hand. I stabbed my cock deep into Miranda’s mouth, hitting the back of her throat with enough force to make her gag and spit. She drew her knees up under herself and yanked her head away from my manic grip. Kneeling between my legs she licked her mouth luridly and beckoned for me to get up with the fingers of one hand.

I got onto my knees in front of Miranda and ran my fingers through her tangled pigtails, as I pulled them free she leaned forward onto her elbows before me with her ass sticking out of her skirt behind her and took the base of my shaft in both hands. She angled her simmering gaze up at me as she slid her mouth slowly onto my cock before taking my hips in her hands and beginning to slam her head up and down with me in her slurping mouth. Each time my cock hit the top of her throat she grunted around it, and I could feel her clutching and swallowing at my head. Just as I felt myself about to explode inside of her sloppy wet mouth she looked up at me knowingly through her fake lashes and quickly yanked her head off of me, flipping over onto her back below me. She held my cock from underneath and directed hot ropes and strings of cum across her face and cleavage, her tongue hung out to catch what her face and breasts didn’t.

Miranda licked a long slow path up the length of my shaft from beneath me, lingering long enough to catch one last spurt in her mouth before turning over and getting up on her knees to face me; her tongue ran around her lips, drawing cum and spit into her mouth, and she purred a feral purr in her throat as she looked at me with her sparking and damning gaze.

“That was…that was…” I panted.

“Ooooooh yeah,” she drawled, the purred again, “it really was.”

“”I should probably…I should…I have to…” I tried again.

“Go?” she asked, impish lust in her eyes, “Are you sure?”

“I shouldn’t have…” I started, not knowing how to finish.

“Yeeaah, you should have,” she said, wiping the bottom of her chin with the back of her hand where my cum and her saliva still mingled and lingered and dripped from her face. She slid her body up along mine, biting her tongue between her white teeth, and clung her arms around my chest.

I could smell myself now that she was so near, and Bethany crossed my mind again. The first time she had sucked me off and swallowed she had tried to kiss me afterwards and I’d pulled away. She told me it made her feel gross because I wouldn’t kiss her, like she had done something wrong, and she had never let me cum in her mouth since. I took Miranda’s face between my hands and snaked my tongue into her mouth, feeling and tasting the lingering wet stickiness left from my explosion there only a moment before.

I Took Shelter In A World of Flame…

I fell asleep there, terribly tangled with Miranda, until my phone rang at 9 the next morning. It was Bethany. Looking from the call display to Miranda, from the call display to Miranda, from the call display to Miranda, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. I wasn’t drunk anymore. I had really done everything I remembered doing.

I slid from underneath Miranda, who looked used and torn in the stark light of dawn through her thin black curtains. She didn’t look much different, actually, from how she had looked the night before; all dark lust and needy subtext. As the call went to voicemail I edged myself out from under her. As I stood and put my pants on she pulled the soft and dark red blanket beneath her around body and murmured unintelligibly as she slipped deeper into whatever sleep she was stealing from the dawn.

Driving towards home in my car, trying to shift back to normality, I listened to Bethany’s message.

“Well, Gavin, I guess you’ve been out all night doing overnight sensation things,” her calm little voice said from the past,“but I’m here wondering where you are and loving you. See you when I get home.”

I dropped several pegs on my own internal scale of worth, dropping the phone into the passenger seat. I looked over when I didn’t hear the ‘thunk’ of it hitting the taut leather where Miranda had sat fingering her pussy the night before. Someone had caught it. She bared her teeth dangerously, my phone clutched in her hand while her sandy blonde hair hung in her eyes, her slight tan trench coat bunched under her so that her dark grey wool business skirt and plain button-up white blouse stood out in shaper contrast; her perfect breasts pressed against the inside of the shirt, her perfectly formed hips pressed against the inside of her skirt.

“We need to talk about your video,” she said matter-of-factly, “and the company you’ve been keeping.”


2017-05-23 05:31:42
Hmmmmm, interesting writing, intense vocabulary and style, almost like punchy TV reporting, yet still non-hacknied and precise. Will be interesting to see if the style is retained.

Anonymous readerReport

2015-03-24 22:44:48
what a load of garbage.

anonymous readerReport

2013-07-23 07:23:22
Weird, hard to follow. Seems almost like someone trying their best to be as obtuse as possible to seem intelligent.

anonymous readerReport

2012-10-26 11:40:28
The best writing I've seen on this site so far...thank you.

Minus ThreeReport

2011-08-29 16:45:17
That's just how Gavin thinks. His internal dialogue is a little artsy because he things he's artsy.

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