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got tonkaed wrote:i say meh.
I dont think partisan voting is really that big of an issue here...I just think Fruitcake has written the best two entries so far (and will possibly write a third).
But im not really one to rock the boat.
Are we upping the word limit by any chance (i know we have been pushing it a bit, i was just wondering if it had been officially bumped)
Napoleon Ier wrote:You people need to grow up to be honest.
jiminski wrote:ahhhhhh the fragility of the tortured artist!
Napoleon Ier wrote:You people need to grow up to be honest.
Neoteny wrote:jiminski wrote:ahhhhhh the fragility of the tortured artist!
It's true. I might just have to join in after this segment, unless some sort of major inspiration hits me.
ENTRY 1
Smith stared out at the gorgeous view through his yacht's sliding doors, then looked across the table at Ivan. āSoā¦ youāre telling me youāre deliberately permitting a spy to join my service staff? A spy who works for an organization that may well intend to kill me, or attempt to seize control of my business interests in some way? And all thisā¦ on top of the security breach in the computer system Johnson found yesterday? What kind of security chief are you, anyway?!?ā The two men glared at each other.
As usual, Smith cracked first. He considered himself an excellent poker hand, having practiced his poker face through years of careful business dealings, but Ivan was a rock. And besides, the mere idea that Ivan, his security chief for the past 20 years, would deliberately put him in danger, was too amusing for him to keep a straight face for long. The two men laughed.
āSounds like fun. Keep me updated on this spyās actions, and tell Johnson to keep shuffling the code protecting the higher level security files. The breach into the mock mainframe is no big deal, but I donāt want anyone figuring out that our entire organizationās real business is kept on an entirely separate networkā¦ and if the hacker gets into our security files, theyāll realize nothingās there. Give them a few more days, then make like we found the breach and shut them down.ā Smith always enjoyed a good game, and this player was relatively new, or they wouldāve known not to attempt anything soā¦ over-attempted.
āOh, and Ivan?ā Smith said as his security chief stood to leave.
āYes, sir?ā
āSendā¦ whatās he calling himself this time, Dymock? Send him his usual payment. We wouldnāt want him to forget who really pays his bills, now would we.ā
āNo, sir.ā
ENTRY 2
It was a balmy 85 degrees as the water taxi made its way through the harbor. Frank Dasher was relaxing, taking in the visual display of rich and poor that Acapulco had to offer.
He was going over in his mind the last minute details of his mission. A couple months ago he was approached by a Geoffrey Dymock , who had heard of Frankās expertise in Special Reconnaissance. Eight years as a Navy Seal and another 4years in Black Water made Frank a valuable commodity.
The taxi was slowing down as it approached a 210 foot luxury yacht. On the bow he could make out the name of the ship, āMiguel Grauā. Frank smiled to himself and remembered the many stories his grandfather had told him of the great Peruvian Admiral Miguel Grau who fought and died during the 1800ās. At 6 feet and 200 pounds Frank could easily pass as a South American or European. Basically Frank was a mutt. He was not only of Peruvian heritage but also French, Scottish and Italian.
Maybe his small bit of Peruvian ancestry helped Frank get on as a crew member of the āMiguel Grauā. The shipās owner Antonio Arinos was one of Peruās leading businessmen and involved in most of Peruās mining ventures. It was no secret to those who knew Arinos that he was ruthless and had a total dislike for anything Asian. His dislike stemmed from the disappearance and subsequent bullet-ridden death of Arinosā father, who was a key member of the Fredemo Party during Alberto Fujimoriās presidency.
As the water taxi pulled up to the shipās landing, Frank grabbed his duffel bag and launched himself aboard. Two imposing figures led Frank inside to a luxurious and spacious salon where two men were having a conversation.
Frank waited at the far end of the salon as he watched one of the men stand up, shake hands with the other man, and walk out a door at the far end. Frank was led to the remaining man.
ENTRY 3
The following morning, Dimitri Balinova emerged from the shower in suite 1211 of the Dorchester Hotel. Walking out of the bathroom he flicked a playful towel across the shapely buttocks of the blonde he had picked up the night before.
āYou have to be leaving me soon my darlingā said Dimitri pausing to kiss her shoulder and admire his bronzed torso in the mirror where she was bending forward to apply her make up.
āBusy, busy, busy day today!ā he whispered in her ear.ā But itās been fun, and maybe we will do it again.ā
āOh when will that be then?ā said the girl putting on an earring.
Dimitri shrugged, his attention diverted to the news broadcast on the TV screen. āYou have a number I can reach you on?ā
āBetter stillā said the girl slipping on a short tight fitting skirt that Dimitri was determined to have no one witness emerging from his suite, āwhy donāt I call you?ā
āKathyā¦it is Kathy isnāt it? I could give you my number but then Iād have to shoot youā.
In anything other than a Russian accent this would have been laughed off as a clichĆ©d bit of horse play, but with Dimitriās coal black eyes and spy thriller delivery you couldnāt be so sure.
āIām jokingā he said lightening the mood. āIād love to, but unfortunately my company does not permit me to give this number out ā Iām sure you understand.ā
He looked genuinely pained at his inability to hand over this vital piece of information.
She took the bait, and she took the Ā£1500, and after careful inspection of the corridor, she took the lift down to the lobby with one last patronising pat on her bottom from Dimitri as she left.
Dimitri shut the door, opened the wardrobe and withdrew a tie rack groaning with sartorial choice. He picked three from the rack and held them up against his shirt in the mirror.
Selecting one, he sat down on the bed and opened his widescreen laptop, switching to a live feed, he lit a cigarette and waited.
A few minutes of a dull, stationary room view followed. There was a knock at the door of the adjoining suite. A tall distinguished looking man in his mid forties came up close on the screen. He looked vaguely like one of those celebrities that you canāt quite place. The kind that drives you nuts for hours afterwards.
He would have been a typical handsome blonde surfer dude in an earlier life, but his hair was turning white from too much California sun, and the crows feet were digging in their claws around his fathomless blue eyes. However, the perma-tan was deep just as the model books had shown.
āHi Mr..?ā
āDymock āGeoffrey Dymockā said Balinovaās flunky.
āMy nameās Lyle..Lyle Catchcartā said the ageing surfer extending a muscular tanned hand.
Ignoring the hand, Dymock asked "The position secure?"
"Of course" responded Lyle nonchanlently.
HeavyCola wrote:
ENTRY 4
āShe, sir,ā said Dymock. āItās all been taken care of.ā
**************************
āWho shall we be today, today, who shall we beeeee todayā¦ā
Constanza Mille-Fleur Rococo tried to stand on her tip-toes to peer out of the French windows at the glorious autumn morning, but the mattress was too soft and she teetered backwards. Giggling, she planted a hand on the bedstead and flicked her legs up and over the dead body lying next to her, flashing a heart-stoppingly perfect bottom and a pair of white panties to any telescope-wielding gentleman lucky enough to live in the buildings across the park.
āThatās for you, boys,ā she growled huskily, before laughing again and collapsing in a gangly heap next to the bed. Beneath it was a large suitcase, blocked by a fat, lifeless arm hanging down from the mattress. Constanza tutted and sighed.
āNow now silly, I told you to keep your hands to yourself.ā She tried to push the arm to one side, but it was as stiff as a pipe wrench. She rolled her eyes theatrically, placed one foot against the offending elbow, reached for the wrist and pulled it with a movement of sudden and violent strength. There was a crack.
āBang!ā
Constanza placed the now dangling limb next to its body on the mattress, gave it an affectionate little pat, pulled the suitcase towards her and opened it. Humming happily, a quizzical finger at the side of her mouth, she drew from it a viciously bobbed black wig, a pair of enormous sunglasses and a beige raincoat.
āNatalia!ā she squealed. āItās been too, too long!ā She clutched the wig to her chest and hugged it. A phone in the suitcase began to ring. She flicked it open and glowered.
āDa,ā she growled.
āBucephalus ā its Dymock. You need to be in Mexico in five hours. As arranged.ā
āWho? You hev wrong number.ā
Dymock sighed. āAngelina?ā
Silence.
āNataliaā¦ā
āDa.ā
āNatalia, stop fooling around and get down to Acapulco immediately. You know what to do.ā
āGo loco?ā
Click.
Constanza dressed quickly, pulled on her wig, closed the case and took a last look towards the bed.
āBye bye,ā she cooed. The door closed behind her. She had a plane to catch.
ENTRY 5
She slinked into the hotel bedroom clothed only with perfect tits, a shaven pussy and glistening dew from the shower-nozzle. It wasnāt much but it seemed to be catching his eye.
As she worked those hips, one foot in front of the other, drawing a line of attack from muff to mountain. She glanced dryly at the pyramid in the bed sheets.
āHmmm it seems you started without me!ā
He had no answer; he reached to the depths of himself for something cool and sexy. What the f*ck would James Bond say? He had nothing, nothing except the grey mist which befriends the outnumbered.
The air-conditioning hummed as it tweaked her damp nipple into action. Jesus Christ! Keep quiet boy, you are on fire!
āSo what am I going to do to you!?ā It wasnāt a question it was a threat.
Shh
āI know just what little boys donāt like..ā she prowled to her overnight bag and pulled out her weapon. The mans eyes widened, his jaw lowered, his rectum tightened.
āNow role-over bitch! Letās make a man of you!ā
A good f*ck always relaxed her before a difficult job!
PLAYER57832 wrote:I like the concept, but the delay has rather distracted me to other things right now.
Also, I personally, prefer other genre ... but that means nothing (seriously!!!!), the fun part is that it can go any direction.
I DO like the idea of anonymous entries, but after a submission or two, the writer is probably obvious. Everyone has their own style and you can pretty well tell.
One twist I might like to see is to specify a genre ... and perhaps even vary it to get some really wild ideas. (for example: detective to Western, to sci fi to romance ...etc.). But that would be another thread entirely. Also, I would set parametersabout the sex/violance issue. I am not saying what those limits should be, if any, just that it should be defined in advance.,.. even if just to say must be suitable for the general forum threads.
The1exile wrote:I also like the idea, and do hope it keeps going - 5 entries this week is hardly that thin on the ground, in any case.
jiminski wrote:The1exile wrote:I also like the idea, and do hope it keeps going - 5 entries this week is hardly that thin on the ground, in any case.
I agree Ex, 5 is still very good.
It is less than 50% of the previous number of passages though. There were a couple of changes made directly before this entry so i was just trying to determine cause and effect.
Was the reduction due to:
-Anonymity
-Increased Passage length
-Apathy
Or are the changes/evolution of the rules correct and it is just the Forum-down and delay which is the cause?
just trying to make sure we are husbanding the concept correctly is all.
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