Run, Nicky, Run

Run, Nicky, Run

Chapter 1

I close my eyes, and settle in to bed, feeling the burden of my body’s weight slip away. I am grateful the day requires no more effort on my part. I no longer have to control each muscle, to fight fatigue and pain with every moment. It’s over- for now. I sigh deeply, and smile from the pleasure that a good night’s sleep will bring. Tomorrow will be better. The doctor says I am only months away from being able to take a walk around the lake again, or to swim. Sure, I’ll have to start slowly at first. I see myself, a new runner and only 44 years old. I thought I was past my prime, close to over- the- hill. Looking back on it, that was my prime. I had plenty of strength and mobility, and the best part was at that age, I had learned the value of hard work and perseverance. Nothing could stop me, or so I thought. Over the next two years, I continued to progress. two miles became three, then four. The first day I completed five miles, I was ecstatic. I was not the fastest, by any means. My game was endurance, and I was winning.

The races came, and while I never finished at the top, or even in the top five, I kept going. I was fit, my husband and I had something in common, now. I was happy that we had a new bond. He was happy he had inspired me to run.

People sometimes asked me if I’d been injured, and how long it took to recover. They’d notice the scar on my knee and assume I’d torn it up running. Not even close. I simply fell off my bike because I had been drinking beer and showing off. It wasn’t even that bad, I just scar easily. I’d never been injured running, even though I never ran before the age of 44.  Now, the beer was behind me, and every step I ran, I ran from the past. I ran away from pain, from fear and worry, from feeling I was a failure, and never measured up. I’d see a still snapshot in my mind of one of my daughters, and smile with pride. They were my inspiration.

The treadmill was punishment, but it is what laid the foundation of my learning to pace myself, to judge my timing and know when to push at the last mile or two of my runs. Still, I yearned for the outdoors.

Finally, spring came, and my outdoor runs began. I loved the park. It had a gorgeous lake running through the middle of it, all the way around the 3.5 miles. I was enjoying my time at the park more and more. It was my escape, and my redemption.

One splendid late spring day at the lake, the run seemed especially easy to me. I felt I’d reached a new plateau. It was time to begin to push myself for more speed. At the end of my second lap, I decided I would really put the heat on, and see what I could do.

Pride goeth before the fall. Many times I had already learned this lesson the hard way, but I foolishly wanted to have something to brag about to my husband that night. I wanted him to be proud of me, and I decided in a blink that I wanted to start finishing races in the top five. I knew I had another lap in me, even though I’d already run seven miles.

I slowed when I got to where my car was parked, and grabbed my Zero cal. Berry Energized drink bottle off the top, and guzzled the last of it. It was lukewarm, which I am not too fond of, preferring instead to walk a bit to the vending machine and buy a cold bottle. But not today. Today I couldn’t take that time. I had to keep running.

Security is not something I generally considered when it came to water or drink bottles. I never considered locking down my beverages. My car, yes. My purse and cell phone, naturally. Nothing felt odd or wrong to me when I put that bottle to my lips. It was hydration, and I needed it, and was grateful to have it. After downing it, I put the lid back on as to not litter, and turned the bottle sideways between the slots on my roof rack so it wouldn’t blow away, and I began to pick up my pace. I had just enough of a respite  to really add some speed now.  Within fifty yards, something felt wrong. My stomach felt like it was being stretched and pulled.  A strange burning sensation began creeping up from my stomach and down from my throat simultaneously.  I was still running, but slowing. In fact, everything felt like it was going in slow motion.  The pain increased throughout my entire body, now. Fire, and gnawing, and then I couldn’t breathe very well. I remember looking up at the leaves on trees. The sun was so beautiful, streaming through them. I remember wondering if my head hit very hard. I couldn’t feel it.  I couldn’t feel anything but  fire, and the burning increased to the point where I could feel my eyes protruding and tongue  clogging my throat and I became instantly petrified. I was dying. I saw a face above mine, and I don’t remember this part, but I was told later, in the hospital that the guy who tried to help me and who called 911 was still having nightmares about that day. I guess my purple face, bulged- out eyes and blood drizzling from my nose and mouth kinda spooked the poor soul.

The paramedics had no idea of what was happening to my body.  They briefly suspected a hemorrhagic virus, but it was highly unlikely. The bleeding didn’t continue, anyway. During the ambulance ride, the main concern became keeping me breathing.  A tracheotomy tube was inserted. My heart had to be de-fibbed. Luckily, the guy who found me had seen me go to my car. My key was found safety pinned to my short’s waistband. Other personnel opened my car and grabbed my purse, and found my phone.  I had been dutiful to put my husband’s name in my contact list followed by “ICE” , so he was the first one called.  I am glad there is a hospital right by the park. At first they thought they might need to life flight me away to a bigger facility, but they decided to work on stabilizing me first. Transferring me might be the best option at any moment, though, so staff was ready to move me immediately, if word came. Honestly, they didn’t expect me to live. My poor husband showed up, but I wasn’t there to see his face. I imagine it, though ; all his color drained, his eyes wild with fear, frantically pumping the doctors and nurses for information.

I am glad he didn’t call my mom. The shock would be too much. I lost my sister a couple of years ago, to a long- standing illness. I was amazed that my mom survived it , with her COPD as bad as it is, and only worse now.

The reason I lay there, looking like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, was a complete mystery. At some point, a toxicology report was run. That’s when the real fun began.

Somehow, the nicotine levels in my blood were ridiculously high. The whole thing was nearly missed, being the least likely of the drugs abused and  associated with the area where I live. But, after my drooling and convulsions, someone got a clue.

I was absent during my possession, really. I hope I dreamed good dreams, but somehow I doubt it. Dialysis came next. The suction device for my profuse drooling disturbs me to think about more than some of the other aspects of it all, strangely.

What really saved me, I found out later, was the fact that I had been an avid nicotine gum chewer for years. My tolerance of the shit was so high already, that I was able to survive it better than most. Meanwhile, the whole thing suddenly became an investigation when it was determined that I didn’t choose to drink a large amount of nicotine. My car was searched. The bottle was still on top of the car. Bingo! Loaded with traces of the stuff.

Better news was that there were prints on the bottle that didn’t match mine…

More of Run, Nicky Run coming soon. Hope you enjoyed…

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Unreal (new and improved!)

It seems our press has gotten a bit out of hand. Despite our attempts at remaining a complete secret, clients seem to keep finding us. I don’t like the fact that recently, they’ve been ex-cons. How is anyone finding out about us when we expunge the memories of our clients? Yes, we get rid of their memories of us, naturally. I feel as though I am failing on the secrecy front. That is my job, and I have to make sure this gets contained. Someone, somewhere among our client list was either a mole, or their erasure didn’t take. I have to find out who that is, or our entire organization will be threatened. There are too many people interested in anything that someone else doesn’t have. If that weren’t enough, we are talking about life-changing technology and therapy that a lot of people would like to use for reasons unethical at best, and horrific at their most likely applications.

My boss is a genius. Harvard Medical, top of his class, the whole nine. He is also completely naive as to the depth of depravity people would sink to be able to have these techniques and treatments. He likes to rest, I think, in the belief that nobody could make this work but him. He doesn’t seem to understand that there are many who would gladly kill us all in trying. I finally convinced Dr. Nathaniel to hire some real guns last year. He now employs two ex-military security men. David is quiet, practical, and always knows what’s going on with our meetings and clients. Most importantly, he keeps the doctor physically safe. Zeng is our tech guru and details man. His main job is to monitor previous clients for at least a year, at intervals, to make sure they are living normal, happy lives. Any of them start exhibiting changes in behavior and patterns, and Zeng zeroes in and begins serious surveillance.

My job is to profile the right kind of clients, and to bring them into the information and education process. I help do background checks into their stories, lives, and friends. Zeng and I work as closely as we can on this. In the beginning, before we had over twenty previous clients, he was an equal partner in acquisitions, and his teachings were invaluable. So, I miss us being able to collaborate on each case. As it is now, I compile files on potential patients, and sling them onto Zeng’s desk for approval. From there, they go to the doctor and David, but mostly the doctor. If either of them have any concerns or misgivings, they then get looked over much more thoroughly by Zeng. I truly respect and admire him. If he were to have to go over a file again, I’d feel as though I had let him down a bit. I hate that feeling. He has a way of looking at me with those clear, gray eyes and giving me a cool undoing. He is able to completely detach himself from any emotional ties he may have to me-or anyone-and be all business. It’s utterly disconcerting. I can almost forget these are the same eyes that assessed me with nothing but warmth and desire last summer. I digress.

It seems that lately we have been too busy with work to even think about summer soirees, passionate interludes, or even a decent sit-down dinner. I really need to talk with him as soon as possible, though. We have to all be of one mind as to how to proceed to find the leak. After Zeng helps me put a plan together, we will approach Dr. Nathaniel.

But first, we do have a potential client meeting soon that I must attend. As many of our clients come to us, this one comes from the good doctor himself. Through his normal therapy practice, he happens upon patients whose histories and trauma are of such a severe nature, he deems them eligible for further treatment. Erasure.

Back in the bedroom, because Drew will be coming home from his night shift at the plant. I like to make myself available . Drew tiptoed through the bedroom and eased into bed. He is always considerate of me. He knows I’ve been at working a lot lately. He believes that I work in an office, filing. Basic and boring. He loves me in spite of it, and I him. I am glad that Zeng and I never really amounted to more than a summer night. It was a great summer night, but this is what I need. Drew nestles close to me, and brings his hand to rest gently on my hip. I turn to look at him. The moonlight is bright through the open blinds. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s not asleep yet. I smooth my hand down his face. He smiles. I continue to trace the outline of his collarbone, his ribs, down to his hip. “Well, hello.”

” Hi, yourself, Mister. Miss me?” He has an amazing way with nipples that always gets me steamed up. I know where to touch him to elicit his subtle moans. I stroke his long, lean thighs, the sexy hip bone that juts out just enough, and his warm patch of soft hair surrounding that smooth, exquisitely hard part of him I cannot seem to get enough of.

We spent the whole evening together, doing nothing more than making love, and eating large quantities of ice cream, salami, and bagels with cream cheese. I love our time together after amazing lovemaking . It draws us so close. I also enjoy the unstoppable grins we both have, knowing that we just rocked each other’s world. Drew had to go back to work at six in the evening. So he was going to sleep the day away. I gave a call to Zeng to find out what he knew about our latest potential client.

“Zeng, hi. Ok, so- tell me what you know”.  He sounded tired, but in a good enough mood. ” I wish I had more to tell you, but Nate is keeping the details of this pretty close to his chest. I don’t know why. ” ‘ How did this ex-con find out about us?  Obviously this a client of Nate’s?” “Yes. That much I do know. And it’s a woman. In this case, she’s out because of DNA testing . It’s not her guilty conscious she wants to get rid of. I thought the same thing. It’s what the guards and other inmates did to her over twelve long years… now you on board?”

“Oh, Jesus. I sighed. “Yeah, so far, so good. You gonna be at the meeting?”

“Of course.”

“Alright. See you then.”

So, this was a big relief . I didn’t have to worry about this ex-con being some kind of a leak. I had a pretty good idea of who this was. Seeing almost everyone who comes into the office to see Dr. Nathaniel does make me privy to who the clients are, and why they are there. Nancy Stillman was a fairly recent patient who looked  like the walking dead. She had a huge scar across her cheek, thinning black hair, and an unnaturally strong deferment to perceived authority.

My greatest concern were the last couple of contacts to us which were fairly random.  I dismissed them. I still needed to figure out where they got our info, since those last two were not from the doctor, but rather e-mails that both Zeng and I received that were traced to the library and a local community college. We were not private investigators, and we had little to go on, but we needed to find out how anyone found out about us. I was kicking myself for not immediately making contact . I needed to know more. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

I did the normal things a person does for the rest of the day, including working out at the Y., cleaning house, and throwing a ball for the dog. Drew woke up at around four. We chatted and watched some inane television shows. He showered and headed back to work. Today was not an office day for me, so I didn’t need to lie to him about where I was or what I was doing.

Morning came much too soon. A quick cup of coffee in the french press in a travel mug and a protein bar- good to go. I was wearing my favorite boots, a gift from Drew in black leather. Silver buckles cross at the ankles, and there’s just enough heel to clear mud without sinking into it. I have a tazer in the inside pocket of my coat. It’s a trench, but not black. It’s just turned Autumn, and the mornings are foggy and crisp. It’s six when Drew pulls up, and six fifteen when I pull out. I have to head to the office for some ordinary, routine work before making the drive to the meeting this afternoon.

More UNREAL soon!!

Yes, I am a porn star in bed

OK, I admit it. I love sex with my husband! I absolutely crave it, adore it AND him, and it is absolutely hot. I am 43 years old, probably nearing the end of my peak. In my early 20’s, and thirties, a whole decade, sex was not my forte`. Yes, I was and still am skilled beyond most mere mortals, (hehehe) but I really couldn’t care. I had children, laundry, a job, etc. I also had a husband who I was not turned on by. Sorry, not his fault, just a reality. Fast forward to a loving, sensual, teasy, sexy husband whose every move gets me going, and it’s a different story now. Also, he’s just so choir-boy innocent on the outside, but hot and naughty on the inside, and that just gets me all fired up!! So, when I hear women who have been married to the same wonderful guy for over ten years yawning about sex, or Victoria’s Secret, or whatever, I just laugh. I will tell you now what I have learned. I am sorry if I offend any of the more restrained and religious types, but just remember this- the marriage bed is undefiled. Just to set the record straight, I have been defiled on more than one occasion, and I am not proud of it, but that was then, and this is now.

1) You don’t need to give your man the third degree about porn. They process this stuff differently than we do. They don’t see a hot woman, and think, “Wow, I wish my wife were that attractive…”, if anything, they wish you were that INTO THEM. That’s right! It’s not the body image, though, to be real, that does count, but it’s MORE in the way the women WANT the guys they are with. Let me just tell you now, that if you’re hard to get and your husband has to practically beg for sex, something in the relationship is probably wrong. THAT is what needs to be addressed. Don’t use withholding of affection as some kind of tool to get him to SEE what the problem is. He won’t . Your man loves you, that’s why he popped the question. When it comes to bedroom time, leave all the problems behind, and lose yourself in him, in his arms, his love. If you can’t, it’s time to come clean and have that talk.

2) Watch it with him! It may be a bit embarrassing, it might even make you squirm. I don’t know about you, but knowing that my husband is getting excited gets ME excited. Maybe it’s just the thing to get you to try something new, something adventurous. You know all those romance novel fantasies you’ve been secretly harboring? (romance novel = lady porn, admit it!) Well, get over the false pride and tell him about it!   Chances are, he will do it. Show him what YOU can do, and he will most likely follow suit.

3) Somehow, ladies, the wild, hot woman he seduced became a prude once the I-do’s were said. But, why? Are you trying to show him that growing up means growing old and then dying, like, right now? Again, the marriage bed is undefiled, and unless you have issues in your relationship, and are trying to use sex as a power tool, this should be the time to let go, and show some passion! You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain!

4) “He doesn’t care how I feel and never tries to please ME. It’s all about the almighty penis!” OK, I understand this. You have an insensitive clod who doesn’t try to please you. Have you really talked to him? Again, is this just a symptom of other underlying problems? Assuming all other areas in the relationship are ok, and talking has not caused a change, I recommend getting him red hot, then leave him hanging while you show him how YOU like to please YOURSELF while he watches. That will not only drive him wild, but he might even get a lesson. Be BOLD. Show him what you like. Guys are VERY visual.

5) Don’t become a prude and freak out if he even looks at the Adult store sign! Drag him in and be embarrassed- but look at toys. Tell him what you would love for him to do to YOU with one of them. It will be a better night, I assure you!

6) Be 100% real and TELL him your fantasies, no matter how bizarre you think they are. It will probably give him wood.

7) TOUCH. You’re tired? So’s he. You’re not ‘into’ it? Touch him anyway. Intimacy is not just sex, but once you start touching the one you love, let things take their natural course, whether to sleep, or to more.

8) You’re not comfortable with your body? Chances are, after 10+years, neither is your guy. Guys have days THEY feel ‘bloated’ and tired, too!  Maybe he is always ‘comfortable’ with his body- doesn’t matter, guys are usually more confident than we are. Truth be told, unless your man is an ASS, he loves your body, every bit of you. Take advantage of that fact, and be BOLD in bed. Be teasing, be sensual, be hot, and don’t second guess yourself. Don’t worry about your breath, your hair, whether you shaved recently enough. Just forget all of that, and get naughty!

You’re welcome. Class dismissed!