Dimensions Forums  
Home Register Premium Membership Health Issues Market Place Big Fashion

Go Back   Dimensions Forums > Library > Weight Fiction General BHM/Mutual Archive



Reply
 
Thread Tools
Old 02-27-2014, 10:45 AM   #51
Tad
mostly harmless
 
Tad's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 12,544
Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.
Default

Huzzah for a new installment!

I hope life takes it easier on you for a while--for all the good reasons, and selfishly so that you have time and energy for writing
__________________
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
Tad is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 05-19-2014, 09:32 AM   #52
bayone
 
bayone's Avatar
 
Join Date: May 2014
Posts: 385
bayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions community
Default

OK, I want more of this. Also, please, Henry, wake up and be sensible!
bayone is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 05-20-2014, 06:46 PM   #53
bayone
 
bayone's Avatar
 
Join Date: May 2014
Posts: 385
bayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions community
Default

Also, the Henry/Jill relationship is interesting, rather old-fashioned in a way -- does Henry live with her and help raise the kids because that's what the people in the books he loves would do?
bayone is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 06-28-2014, 12:29 AM   #54
Grundsau 11
pennagrundsau
 
Grundsau 11's Avatar
 
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: In the anthracite boonies .
Posts: 117
Grundsau 11 can now change their title
Default

Quote:
Originally Posted by bayone View Post
Also, the Henry/Jill relationship is interesting, rather old-fashioned in a way -- does Henry live with her and help raise the kids because that's what the people in the books he loves would do?
You are writing this very well. It'll be as long as it's meant to be; ignore this "old-fashioned" label.
Any further installments will be as greatfully devoured as their predecessors were. Thanks
__________________
Pennagrundsau
Grundsau 11 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-01-2014, 06:49 AM   #55
bayone
 
bayone's Avatar
 
Join Date: May 2014
Posts: 385
bayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions community
Default

Clarification and apology — I didn’t mean “old-fashioned” as an insult to you or to the character. I just thought, given his love of 19th-century literature, that of course Henry would consider it his responsibility to help his sister raise her children; I considered it a subtly appropriate plot point.
bayone is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-11-2014, 03:39 PM   #56
agouderia
Library Girl
 
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 2,123
agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!
Default

Thank you for your interest in my charachters and debating their motivation.

Henry's issue is that he never had any credible, convincing role models as far as loving, trusting relationships go in real life. That's also why he's so afraid of trying to establish one for himself.

With Jill it's different - together alone they had to face a very difficult situation. Becoming orphans as teenagers today isn't a very common situation anymore. So Henry did to a certain degree follow the patterns he had read of in his beloved books. He saw Jill as much as a victim of the circumstances as he was and he didn't want her to suffer for it.
Also - Jill is the only family he has, and it's a tie he subconsciously cerishes because he half-realizes that she in turn has always helped him in many social aspects.

Now to the next chapter.....
agouderia is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-11-2014, 03:51 PM   #57
agouderia
Library Girl
 
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 2,123
agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!
Default Encrypted Information

Encrypted Information

Getting ready on the first Monday morning of the New Year, Louisa sighed in front of the mirror. She couldn’t stand looking at all her roundness, how wide the pants in her hand seemed. Her conscious brain though insistently repeated to her that Amanda was right: She needed all her mental, physical and emotional energy right now to help clean up the mess Ryan had made. Issues like a new diet or talking to Henry would have to wait; it was time for a fresh start as soon as this nightmare was over. Right now she’d concentrate on staying sane and healthy, make sure she did her part in salvaging her own job. The upside of the lousy, more or less cancelled holiday season was that she had not put on much, if any of her traditional festive extra poundage since she hadn’t had the time to cook and bake as much. So her cloths fit smoothly as she slid into them, letting her close her eyes in relief.

In the office, she had a final talk with Palmer on the focal points of her investigative trip before she cleared her office, handed over her plants to the care of Melissa, packed all the necessary files before taking the evening plane to Geneva via Amsterdam. The following two weeks led her into a world she so far had believed to exist only in espionage fiction: Meeting on secluded benches arranged by pre-paid cell phone, everybody wore dark sun-glasses and spoke at least 4 languages, dinners were always in separées with the cost for menu and particularly champagne and wine bottles sometimes amounting to the monthly salary of her entire section at Palmer’s. The ubiquitous use of private helicopters and jets as means of transport. The fact that her hotel room was almost immediately upgraded to a suite that unfailingly had something in the line of a marble bathroom with golden faucets.
Although she was used to large sums of money from her regular legal contract work and its public tenders, she found the ease with which 9-12 digit sums in dollars or Euros were moved around in this business scary.

Not surprising was that this was a completely male dominated world: Even assistants, secretaries and interpreters tended to be men – her coming in as a younger woman not only raised eyebrows but led to several odd reactions. The legal counsel in the first asset management firm in Geneva blankly stared at her exclaiming: “Mon Dieu! It was not misspelled! You are a Louisa …. not Louis A. Grenburgh… what are we going to do now?”

After her first meeting in Abu Dhabi, where she had dressed very demurely in her opinion, her interpreter Bilal bowed to her all flustered and insisted: “Madam, please, you must let my sister talk to you! She will come to your hotel! Please listen to her!”

His sister Nabila had come and Louisa had almost thrown her out again after she handed her a selection of long wide flowing coat like dresses she apparently should wear: “With your figure, you must cover up more.”
Louisa almost gagged with insult, so it took Nabila some time to calm her down: “You do not understand at all. Men here are not used to seeing real women at all – even less doing business with them. Especially not women who look like you – any typical tribesman would pay 300 camels for you!”

“300 camels?”

“At least! You’re the traditional ideal, the woman of milk and honey, like the beautiful odalisques of the old harems!”

Although the story sounded just as fictional as many she had heard in the course of this investigation, Louisa followed the advice because she sensed it must be important if her interpreter went to such lengths to convince her.

The floor length, wide flowing dresses with high collars and long sleeves, made of a light silky material worn with a scarf draped over her head were incredibly comfortable. Plus they were oddly liberating for her – she no longer needed to think about how something might fit or look, everything was covered and obscured. It led to a schizophrenic situation though, with long, shapeless covering gowns freeing her from the life-long worry that her figure was a big negative stand-out. Simultaneously she was keenly aware of the dark flipside of this comfort: In combination with the various head concealments from hijab to full body burqa they in reality were the outer symbol of incredible discrimination and oppression for the vast majority of women who had to wear them, keeping them from living independent, self-determined lives.

Despite having the hunch that particularly assistants, office staff, spokespeople and the like tended to underestimate her and be more honest and open with her, she was a bit frustrated that she was getting no-where. From all she could find out, MercuryScutum was some kind of run-through operation, only disseminating funds, booking and buying equipment, personal or services. The actual beneficiaries, the operation behind it, which objective the entire set-up had remained opaque. What the entity or subsidiary of HermesShield did remained completely in the dark; everybody claimed not to know the name.

Despite the sunny, warm weather and a lovely hotel pool at hand, Louisa felt incredibly cooped up and restricted in Abu Dhabi, always being chaperoned everywhere by the driver, interpreter or the colleagues from the partner firms. Yet with all the people constantly around her, there was no one she felt she could trust or speak to openly. With the eight hour time zone difference casual phone calls to friends, family and colleagues back home didn’t work all too well as an outlet either.

Food and eating also weren’t really available as her usual sources of comfort and a means to relax. The plethora of oriental dishes she was served were all delicious, but with the constant scrutiny from everybody she was facing, Louisa found it impossible to eat with relish and in the quantities her appetite demanded. Smiling at the delicacies that were constantly pushed her way; she struggled to swallow at least the necessary amount for politeness sake with all the eyes around the table fixed on her. Room service wasn’t an option either, since then everybody would see on the bill how much she was eating in secret. After she had insisted on the way back from a meeting to stop and go into a supermarket alone, the amount of almost physical attention she was hit with there from everybody had her fleeing the scene as fast as possible in high heels and billowing coat.

Even in the hotel she mainly stayed in her hotel room when she didn’t go for a real sporty swim with goggles in the pool. The single Western woman on business here still had a bit of a unicorn quality. Many men from all over the world tried to chat her up – simply because she was the only prey far and wide aside from the professionals. One must have assumed as much when he asked her whether she was the ‘new Ukrainian country girl’, and how much more like classy farm she looked than her predecessor. Some were blatantly obvious about it, looking at her figure with disdain but almost starting to slobber when focusing on her chest. Others were more suave, asking her professionals questions first before getting very hands on. The nicest encounter was with a young Greek engineer who had fled the crisis to earn a living for his family in construction here and who was only in need of a sympathetic ear and verbal comfort against his homesickness.

The only thing that remained was the lovely warm sunshine at her third destination for the investigation - the Cayman Islands. The situation on the ground couldn’t have been more different. On Grand Cayman, it seemed nobody would’ve cared if she had walked down the street naked. Life seemed to consist of beach time, boat lunches and in between transferring obscene amounts of money from account A to account B, E and M. It took her three days alone to get hold of the official HermesShield representative, only to find out that he represented another 327 companies and had to be reminded which company she was referring to. He handed her down to one of his three assistants, who was in charge of managing 163 companies, but who alas, was out on a fishing trip. She would need to wait three more days for him to get back – why didn’t she come along to a beach barbecue in the meantime?

In George Town she was alone and on her own too, but here it was a carefree, peaceful solitude, no oppressive, alien loneliness. Walking on the long beaches, swimming in the turquoise blue sea, letting the waves tumble over her body, eating so much raw fruit her mouth went sore – Louisa wouldn’t have been unhappy if this odd professional limbo continued forever. Her guilty pleasure increased as the worst January snow storm in 15 years hit the Mid-Atlantic, the ensuing flight chaos making her prolong her stay for at least another 48 ours.

When Fred, the 1/163-rd in charge of HermesShield returned, he only shook his head, looked through several files and tapped his computer convincingly for seven minutes. “We honestly only have official HermesShield accounts here with very regular, transparent movements. Try the Virgins,” was his only advice, “I see one small trail there, dating from over 2 years ago.”


Ironically, the best and in every respect most rewarding of her investigative travels were not those to the luxurious sunny beaches, but the unplanned last leg into a seriously cold Alpine winter. Sitting on the balcony in the evening sun, typing up her latest insights, the beauty of the scenery took away the edge of frustration from her lack of finding hard evidence for anything. No matter what, she’d enjoy this weekend before she looked into return flight options to the wintery office. The pling announcing an incoming encrypted e-mail tore her out of her report drafting – it was from Palmer himself. “Read this carefully. Conrads found a lead in an unrelated case file. If you too think there’s anything to it, you need to check it out personally in Zug. Come back immediately.”

The message had her packing to leave the next morning - and 36 hours later she found herself dead tired, yawning and shivering uncontrollably from the drop in temperature of nearly 50 degrees on early Monday morning at Zurich-Kloten with snow lightly falling. Her odyssey had lead her via Houston and Atlanta to Reagan National, were 2 wash loads waited, 1 brunch with Palmer, repacking of files and clothing – and dozens of vain attempts to get Henry out of her head. Palmer’s mail and the file had let all the hurt, longing and rejection of Henry’s most recent behavior resurface.

After their exchange over the holidays, she had been pretty optimistic that they might get back into real friendly mode or maybe even more. So she had sent him 2 definitely personal e-mails from the Emirates – only to get technical answers back from Tim Brewer. Palmer now said that Henry hadn’t joined them for brunch because he had a bad cold – which sounded like a very lame excuse.

Their partner firm with its stiff-necked representatives raised many of the usual objections, yet drove out to Zug, only a little than half an hour away, on her insistence. On arrival, despite having the confirmation for a meeting, they were not let onto the premises of ‘Tell><Vigilanti’. They waited for over an hour, before another team of lawyers appeared, invited them to their offices and there read a pre-edited statements. None of her questions were answered; they claimed to have no knowledge of MercuryScutum. She found the discussion very difficult to follow, not only because her eyes were constantly falling shut with sleepiness, but also because the Swiss accent in their English was so strong.

On the way back in Zurich, she was surprised that Chantal Prüssli, the only woman on the partner firm’s team, insisted on accompanying her to the hotel.

There she did not let Louisa check-in but sat her down for a cappuccino in a secluded part of the lobby. “You are not going to get anywhere here. You need to try a different path. I can give you a contact.”

Louisa folded her arms defensively and yawned. “Why are you suggesting that?” Chantal physically represented the body-type that intuitively filled her with seething jealousy and let her keep her distance: A petite, skinny page-boy brunette, always impeccable in miniscule Chanel skirt suits and patent heels who never uttered a word in meetings.

“Because I think what you try to do is right. We have the same interests, not like all the old boys do.”

“I don’t think we have very much in common….” It sounded as grumpy as she felt.

“Yes we do. We’re the only younger women here. We’re the only ones with more than national legal experience on our teams. I know we here in Switzerland need to rethink some aspects of our business models. So I try to do my part.”

“Okaay … what is your suggestion?” she was surprised, saw Chantal’s point although her gut reaction remained negative.

“You need to talk to Martin Selbhofer.”

The name didn’t ring any bell. “Who is he?”

“He’s the general manager of ARGE, the Austrian security and defense industry association. I…”

“But that’s Austria …. Tell><Vigilanti’ is here in Switzerland….”

“Martin used to work for the European Association, still does the liaison to the Swiss association here. He’s incredibly well connected,” Chantal seemed to register her disbelief. “Believe me, he’s your best chance. Nobody here will tell you anything. Martin is very helpful, believes in open business dealings, wants to make the industry more transparent.”

“Well … if you say so, why don’t you try to contact him…,” by now Louisa only wanted her bed, would’ve agreed to almost anything.

“Oh … I already sent him a text in the car. He’ll meet you. There’s a conference fair right now in Innsbruck … you can go join him there immediately.”

“I’ll see whether there’s a plane or maybe train tomorrow morning…”

“Oh it’s a train – only a 3 hour ride. There’s one in 45 minutes … I’ll take you,” before Louisa could say or do anything she was on the platform of Zurich main station with a ticket in her hand. Chantal shook her other one warmly. “Trust Martin. Let him help you. He’ll really like you.”



Chantal Prüssli’s odd parting words came to her mind the next morning again and made her blush deeply over her poppy-seed croissant and sip more coffee. “Chantal told me you’re a type of Baroque Madonna - she was right,” Martin Selbhofer grinned at her over the table, brushing bread crumbs off his broad belly. “Maybe pale with jet lag, not rosy enough…. We’ll take care of you with fresh air and sunshine here, Louiselle, good Austrian cooking….”

The funny, endearing way her pronounced her name made her smile in spite of her herself. To take care of her … that felt like the Leitmotiv of the past good 12 hours. Martin had picked up her at the train station, looking like a theater director in a dark green velvet jacket with silver buttons and a red ribbon bow tie, excusing himself that he had an official dinner, to which she could of course come if she wished, but he assumed she needed sleep more than anything. Nodding gratefully, an assistant had taken her to the quaint chalet hotel where room service unprompted served her a delicious chicken-noodle soup and apple Strudel with creamy vanilla custard. Right afterwards she collapsed under the fluffiest feather duvet to sleep like a log until the alarm clock rang.

“Baroque Madonna’s are not exactly the style…,” she muttered, frustrated by the comparison.

“Hey … you’re in Austria … we love our Baroque Madonna’s here,” he took her hand to kiss it with a flourish. “Relax … now I need to go moderate the last 2 morning sessions… come along, get a better idea of our industry…”

The first session was in German on some technical standards, so Louisa put on her head phones and set to expand her impression of Martin Selbhofer. Well – if he thought she was Baroque, he certainly was too. Type 17th century Baroque ski instructor – if such a thing existed: Tousled hair a bit bleached by the sun, tan, full rosy cheeks, a very broad body with bulges of blubber rounding the torso out at all angles. The local Alpine jacket, now in fine wool with trousers held up by leather suspenders that had an H-strip just above the belly underlined its jiggley fullness. His lively movements and gestures during the discussion exuded a comfortable, laid-back confidence.

The second session was in English on joint European defense procurement, where the content was much more interesting for her. Right afterwards Martin’s assistant came to get her for lunch - simple tasty pea and sausage soup. In passing, Martin gave her hands a warm squeeze: “Do you have snow boots?”

“Eh … no… why?”

“Go buy some. You need them this afternoon for the Biathlon.”

“Biathlon? What? Why?”

“Up in the mountains – it’s our show event. Go buy some, Anna will tell you where.”

Acknowledging that she had to do no matter what to finally get Martin Selbhofer to speak with her about the actual reasons for her being there, she walked downhill through the bright winter sunshine to the sportswear store on the small village square. It beckoned her from afar by having the most beautiful snow parka on the sales rack outside – a silvery jeans blue, softly quilted with fur dyed the same shade around the hood. Fingering the size tag – EU 46/48 – she knew from experience it might fit. An eager sturdy salesgirl came out, held up the parka to her neck, pushed her to look at herself in the reflecting shop window and nodded enthusiastically. Inside, in front of the real mirror, she couldn’t help beaming at her reflection with idiotic delight. This was h e r blue, no doubt, the parka fit well and the hood framed her hair very becomingly; her critical self didn’t manage to come up with anything negative.

The shop girl brought her matching ski sun glasses and mittens as well as on her request dark blue snow boots laced in the lighter blue. Even though she only needed the boots, the whole ensemble filled her with such a ridiculously happy buzz, she bought it on impulse – topping it off with a cute matching embroidered felt handbag she saw on exiting.

“Ahhh … we have a snow princess…” Martin gave her a hug and cheek kissed her as she stepped out of the shuttle bus after a 30 minute drive up into the mountains. The event there at the end of a small mountain valley turned out to be a show Biathlon – cross-country skiing with intermediate firing on target at several shooting ranges. The special effect this time was that the contestants – junior championship teams from several European countries – didn’t shoot with their own rifles they normally carried on their backs. Instead they found firearms from different manufacturers at each range they were supposed to test shoot.

Standing in the mountain sun, blinking up at the bright blue sky, kicking the powdery snow at her feet her good mood made her fleetingly question her sanity. She was supposed to be working hard here, find any evidence she could, getting back to DC as quickly as possible. Not inexplicably enjoying herself, going on shopping sprees, drinking hot chocolate and some tee laced with liquor in the winter sun, chatting casually with all sorts of people. Martin had introduced her as a lawyer from DC who was working on an international comparative survey of different armament regulations – so she was bombarded with highly diverging views on US gun control laws or lack thereof.

Even that couldn’t make that warm fuzziness go away, because most of the debates were actually interesting and she sensed that especially the younger crowd took her opinions seriously. Yet she knew she needed to make some progress regarding her actual issues, so she accepted Martin’s offer to drive back with him.
After a few miles, she carefully asked: “Martin, thank you for such a lovely, interesting day. I’ve learned and seen a lot, enjoyed myself in every respect. You know why I’m here …. When would you be free to talk?”

“Good – I want you to enjoy yourself,” he interrupted hitting the accelerator to bypass a milk truck.

“So when do you think…”

“Louiselle, I want you to first get to know our industry better. Where we come from, why we do what we do. We’re not all bad guys –most of us are normal guys in a special business. Then we can talk.”

“I see that – and really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Time is not on my side though. I need to get back to DC … help end this investigation, help get Ryan ….”

“It’s good they sent you instead of Hannerston,” Martin grunted.

“Oh – I didn’t know you knew Ryan.”

“Met him maybe two times – was enough.” Martin looked at her from the side and changed subject abruptly. “Do you have something to wear for the big dinner tonight?”

“Um … yes….think so …. sure,” Louisa hesitated, before deciding her velvet jacket with pencil skirt and the lace top should pass as formal enough. Standing at a traffic light, Martin turned to her, scrutinized her intently from the side, a devilish grin spreading over his face. Instinctively, she sucked in her belly, sat straighter and wrapped her jacket more around herself. As the light turned green, he started chuckling, letting his full belly role in his lap jiggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You will see…” now laughing outright.


After several more miles, he stopped, opened the door for her, took her hand to lead her into a shop, one that offered racks and racks of local Alpine dress.

“You must have a Dirndl … you’re perfect for it!” Martin waved a saleswoman over and they started talking in rapid Austrian German. From her time in The Hague, Louisa had learned some Dutch and found that it made the gist of normal German relatively easy to get. With the Swiss or Austrian versions of the language it was hopeless though.
The saleswoman took Louisa’s arms, spread them a bit, turned her side to side, nodded, said something and left.

“Look – I really have something to wear. I don’t need a dress for one occasion. They won’t have my size anyway…” her voice wobbling a bit at the end, as she studied the tiny waist of a baby pink model with a puffy short skirt, a lacy petticoat peeping out underneath.

“Pah … that’s fake. We want a real one. “ Martin wrapped a big arm around her, cuddled her slightly, pushing her towards a partitioned fitting area.

The saleswoman brought an entire rack of multi-colored dresses: all with a fitted bodice – some buttoned, some laced, some with zipper – a full skirt, some with floral patterns, all with a colored apron. On the side of the rack was an assortment of short blouses, mostly white, many with lace and puff sleeves. Louisa was desperately trying to develop a strategy of how to get out of this mess; she had never tried anything on in front of a man before, not even her own father. Additional horror - a fitted waist, how shameful was that when none of them would close over her belly? All this was 1000-times worse than maybe having to buy a dress she didn’t need. How would she be able to speak professionally to him again?

In the meantime Martin quickly brushed through the rack and pulled out 2 dresses, one in ultramarine and forget-me-not blue, the other in various berry shades. The saleswoman took them smiling and shoved Louisa into the fitting stall. She was stunned; Martin’s choice was spot on as far as her favorite color blends was concerned – could he be gay?

Briskly helping her out of her clothes, the saleswoman shook her head as she saw Louisa’s sports bra. Only to come back with a fancy underwire bra. “Oh, I have one like that … in the hotel…, yes”.

The saleswomen, who herself was wearing one of these dresses, forced her to put it on anyway. Closing her eyes and sucking in her belly and backside for dear life, Louisa gave up and let herself be dressed like a doll, the outfit completed with a white blouse all seams trimmed in the forget-me-not blue satin ribbon. The curtain being pulled signaled her to open her eyes – and she couldn’t believe what she saw.

“’s perfekte Dirndl im perfekten Dirndl,” Martin clicked his tongue in appreciation.

Staring at her reflection, Louisa was too perplexed to decide whether this was great or awful. She had always seen to it that most outfits had nice neckline because she knew it emphasized her best part. This dress though pushed her boobs onto absolute center stage, the tight bodice underneath slimmed her waist notably and the full skirt hid hips and thighs, putting her slender ankles into focus at the bottom.

The curtain of the next cubicle opened and out stepped a girl in one of those mini-Dirndls. Seeing how tiny that girl’s waist was in the bodice, the familiar lump in Louisa’s throat made it difficult to swallow. Her waist was big as a cow’s next to her… how humiliating was this? The slim girl shook her head and sent the saleswoman off. Martin scanned both of them with narrowed eyes. Louisa shook herself, blurted ‘No’, trying to head back to her cubicle.

A firm grip of her arm prevented her. “Come here. You do not understand ……,” Martin clasped her in a bind from behind. His hands ran up her sides, masterfully cupping her breasts on both sides. “This … this is how this dress must look like …. Not like that…,” he jutted his chin over to the slim girl, who nodded and said something.

The intense touch on her breasts in public froze Louisa, all the while making a tingling heat between her thighs spread, preventing her from wanting to squirm out of his hold. “What did she say?” she asked instead.

“That you have the right ‘wood in front of the hut’ for this type of dress.”

“Wood in front of the hut?” This entire situation was beyond bizarre.

“It’s a saying – you need a good stack of wood in front of your hut to make a
Dirndl look good.” The slim girl’s saleswoman underlined the point by shoving some gel cushions into her client’s bodice to create the semblance of breasts.

At a loss of what to say or do and to end this crazy episode of standing in a costume dress with her breasts being publicly fondled by a business acquaintance, Louisa nodded and said: ‘Okay, I’ll take it, wear it tonight.”

As she disappeared into her cubicle, she heard Martin groan and say something about ‘idiot’. While she was carefully hanging up the dress, her saleswoman brought in 3 more, these now longer and obviously fancier, with silk or velvet bodices and silk with lace aprons. They looked like fresh from a theater production.

“Sorry, this for party,” her saleswoman indicated she should try one on, holding up one in black and silver.

“Martin – what is this supposed to mean?”

“I’m so sorry, it was my mistake. You need an evening Dirndl for tonight of course, not a day one. You can wear the first one tomorrow; you’ll be perfect for the meetings. For tonight you need one of those, try them on, hurry – it is getting late. I must be there for the opening.”

Looking at the price tags, the purple evening Dirndl was the cheapest – on sale still € 180. With a sigh Louisa tried it on. It was as if something in Martin’s commanding touch in her breasts had left her spineless; she wanted that feeling again, how it made her get all hot and tingly. It reminded her of her affair with Peter – he had been the only other man ever who had just grabbed her like that, as if there might be something worthwhile about her.

Her behavior was as unprofessional as possible, but right now she was incapable of not going forward with this. Especially as she saw that the purple dress with its genuinely laced bodice fit just as sensationally as the blue one.


It was not until breakfast on her own the next morning that she had a little chance to think what was going on with her. Until then it was a whirlwind of dressing up, shaking hands, chatting, beer, pretzels, roast meats, mountain cheeses until her bodice was suffocatingly tight, followed by music and dancing. For much of the time, Martin’s warm, heavy hand was on her side or back, steering her through the evening. Back in her room, she had trouble keeping her eyes open to brush her teeth before instantly falling asleep. Now, spreading some wonderful plum stuff on a fresh raison-almond roll, she tried to explain her own behavior to herself. Here she was, not doing the job she had been entrusted with, instead she was shopping, partying, trying on cloths in front of a fat guy she hardly knew, letting him fondle her abundance in public. Oh yeah – and of course she was eating too much, frowning at the sizable assortment of cheeses, cold cuts, bread, cake and fruit on her plate. Why was she letting this happen without any notable opposition? And what more – why did she feel so outrageously content with all this?

agouderia is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-11-2014, 04:03 PM   #58
agouderia
Library Girl
 
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 2,123
agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!
Default Encrypted Information

“Aaah …. so Austrian sexy this morning…,” Martin bent down so far that his nose brushed over her bare cleavage as he cheek kissed her in greeting, hot flush spreading over her face.
It made her guiltily aware that she had put on the blue dress this morning against better reason – it was actually too cold for a cotton dress with relatively short sleeves and the style was most un-business-like – simply because she craved more of his appreciation, only briefly wondering whether it was genuine.

“My meetings are over … now I am all for you,” he stated, sitting own across from her and grabbing a piece of bread with the mountain-style bacon from her plate with a grin.

“You say ‘I’m all yours’…,” blushing almost feverishly as she realized what she had just said.

“I hope so very much …,” Martin’s grin went diabolic as he cut a corner off her cherry crumble cake before putting a fancy bag closed with a ribbon in front of her. “First I have something for you… open it…”

Grateful that fumbling with the ribbon let her hide her eyes, Louisa opened the bag, to pull out a felted short jacket in the forget-me-not blue of her apron, trimmed in dark blue, the perfect match to her dress. “Oh … it’s beautiful … and so soft and warm ….Thank you ……,” smiling she stroked the soft fabric, before the reality of the situation hit her. “…err … this is really very useful…. I wanted …. With the dress…. it’s actually not warm enough now in winter ….thank you … how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing …. It’s a present,” Martin waved away her protest. “Put it on. I didn’t think logically yesterday …. you distracted me….,” he licked his lip and winked at her. “It’s too cold for a normal cotton Dirndl … so I got this on the way back from the meeting…”

“It’s lovely .. so warm and fits perfectly … don’t know if I can accept ….,” Martin put his finger to her lips. “Okay … then … thank you so much. All these local cloths are really gorgeous, the fabric and tailoring is so good, such great quality…”

“Yes, tailoring and quality is important … is preserving the tradition, but making it modern and comfortable… I knew it would be just your style,” he leaned over and straightened the jacket she had put on, flared the lapels, buttoned it further down under her cleavage, pulling out the ruffle of her blouse so once more a bolt of heat shot through her nether parts.

“One question only … why do most of the men at our functions wear those leather breeches … and you never do?” inwardly chiding herself that she once more hadn’t been able to give the discussion a professional twist.

“Too many Christmas cookies,” Martin reddened, but stuck out his belly and slapped it unabashedly. “I’m too fat now for my Lederhosen. But the cookies were very good …. Now come, we have to go,” he pulled up a mortified Louisa, who shuddered with lust and shame at bringing up the subject of his weight.

They spent the entire day visiting different small and medium sized companies, factories and manufacturer’s producing rifles, other weapons, all sorts of security devices. The welcomes were always personal and hearty, most companies were family owned so there were invited to coffee, soup and cold cut lunches, or strudel, shown the achievements of generations or the newest training methods for apprentices.

In the late afternoon on the way back to Innsbruck, Martin stopped at a parking lot on the road side. “Put on your boots, we’re going for a walk…”

They hiked diagonally uphill, the setting sun making the world turn pink-white as they threw snow balls and goofed around. After about half-an-hour they reached a chalet with a wide terrace that offered a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and the snowy Inn valley down below.

“Oh wow – this is beautiful … thank you for bringing me here!”

“Wait till you taste their Kaiserschmarrn…”

Although she was pretty full since they had had snacks all day, she couldn’t resist the fluffy, rich, shredded pancake with rum raisins and cinnamon sugar, served with home-made apple sauce and roast prunes as sides.

“Oh … I’m so full …. But it tasted so good, “ she leaned back to have more breathing room for her overfull stomach. Martin seemed to feel the same way, for he pushed out his gut, unbuttoned his pants and loosened his belt two notches.

“Louiselle … what did you see today… these past days?”

Despite the very casual situation and their overfed state, the tone in Martin’s voice showed that they now would finally be talking about serious business.

“Well, I found out very much about the traditions you have here in Austria in the security and defense industry. I was surprised that we saw so many SME’s, true family companies, with even employees working there for several generations.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted you to realize. These companies started out in poor mountain regions where farming alone couldn’t feed a family. They worked on the side, inventing tools, all sorts of mechanical devices, also weapons and security equipment. The companies in our association are normal decent businesses, not ruthless, anonymous conglomerates or the evil empire! It’s not about billion dollar deals”

“I understand that Martin, thank you for showing me so much,” his words made her aware how different the past two days had been from her previous experiences regarding atmosphere, life-style and everything had been. “You know though that I have a different problem – need to sort out how our firm got into the sights of the US security authorities for being involved in some sort of security or armament deals.”

“The companies you’ve visited today all did deals with Tell><Vigilanti… all of them also with HermesShield, probably two with MercuryScutum…”

“Oh … I greatly appreciate that … but are you sure you can tell me that?”

“They came to me right after they heard Hannerston was arrested. We did our own small investigation, checked their files. They have export licenses for the goods – small firearms, basic dual use system components, things like that. But we believe the licenses are fake.”

“They faked the licenses? I can’t imagine Grandfather Huber faking licenses to sell his protective vests…”

“No – he didn’t fake them. He received a fake license, claiming the destination was a NATO country from Tell><Vigilanti as intermediary. My guess is that it was Hannerston who was in charge of handling those fake licenses, setting up the legal façade. What else is more likely than if the license originate directly at a DC agency?”

Louisa took a deep breath – this was indeed new information. “What do you want to do with that information?”

“My job is to protect my member companies, their business, their reputation … and mainly the jobs of the people who work there. You met them – none of them did anything wrong. They produced and sold their product – to what they thought was a licit purchaser. They had as little idea that they had stumbled into a large scale international graft as you did.” Martin looked as hard and angry as she hadn’t seen him yet.

“What can I do? Those fake licenses would help me a lot, would be a major piece of evidence.”

“As I said, I think they would be a piece of evidence against Hannerston. You should try to make him name his contact, who actually issued the fake licenses. If you can get that proof, which exonerates our member companies, then I’ll give you the papers.” He looked at her sadly, took her hands and kissed them. “I wish I could help you more, but making sure our member companies don’t lose their credibility and export licenses is my job.”

“I understand, alone telling me this is very helpful. Now I have concrete items I need to prove, get Ryan to clarify. Maybe we can finally get him to do a real deposition.”

“Louiselle, that’s what I was talking about. Weapons and armament are as old as humanity, even the Stone Age had them. The problem is that so many people turn it into a dirty, corrupt business. We need arms control – but what’s more, we need to stop the shady people on the sidelines of the business corrupting it. You’ve probably seen it – how much of the business are surcharges, kick-backs, bribes and the like. It’s people like Hannerston who think that a Porsche is an okay compensation for one phone call that ruin it for the decent businessmen.”

She gulped softly, but knew he was right in essence. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I have something else for you. You don’t know what MercuryScutum was really working on yet, do you?” making her shake her head.

“Well – I have no direct information on that, but I think our hacking team might have.”

“Your hacking team?”

“Well – we don’t really have a hacking team,” Martin chuckled for the first time again in their conversation. “I work together with a hacker club to test the reliability of all sorts of systems. It’s cheaper than having official cyber security firms do it – and also more efficient. Those guys do it for the thrill, always more reliable than for money or with own business interests. Anyway, one of those guys told me they’d hacked into a registration satellite program – and the data from some equipment came from other sources than where it should be registered… you know further Middle East…”

“That also sounds extremely interesting and helpful. Could I talk to them?”

“That’s only possible if you come to Vienna with me…”


“Oh, it’s dark outside … it won’t be that easy to walk back through the snow…,” it was a lame attempt to bridge the silence after they had finished their tea.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he helped her into her parka and then wrapped his arm firmly around her leading her away from the chalet in the other direction. “It’s only 10 minutes to the cableway station.”

The bench in the cableway was narrow so they sat cozily squeezed together and the drowsy warmth took hold of her again. Getting into the car she asked: “Why are you so nice to me Martin? Why are you so willing to help me?”

“Hmm, I told you – we need more younger people, more women, more people with real international training to make the industry more transparent, more accountable – better, safer for employers and employees.” He placed a thick hand on her knee. “Chantal told me you were good at your work. So you had a good entrée with me.” With a deft movement he lowered her seat and leaned over her. “And … you’re really my type …. Baroque Madonna’s have an instant entrée with me…” his lips moved very close to hers.

“But you know Baroque isn’t…”

“There’s nothing wrong with being Baroque …. Don’t let anybody tell you anything else ….. Look at me…. Baroque is fun …. It’s a classic, renowned art form …it’s round, it’s abundant, it’s sexy …” With every word he had undone one of hooks of her bodice, pushed one of his hands over her breasts before his mouth reaching hers, softly persistent forcing her to open up, let his tongue play with hers. The leisurely warmth gradually turned into heat, her hands digging into his middle, undoing his belt and his heavy doughtiness spilling into her.

Resistance once more seemed impossible, futile, even superfluous, so Louisa mindlessly let wave after wave of sizzling comfort engulf her. It was not until she felt Martin’s fingers deftly working in her panties that her brain switch went on again and she pushed him half off, freeing herself.
“I’m so sorry Martin, I can’t. I … we shouldn’t have gone so far. It … you feel wonderful … but I can’t. Not with this investigation going on…. It’s totally unethical… I can’t…” she tried to cover herself with her jacket.

Martin pulled back puffing, sinking back into his car seat. “What if there was no investigation?”

“Then we should have another discussion about the merits of Baroque as a sensual art form….”



“Ms. Grenburgh – somehow I have the feeling you’re much less satisfied with your results and findings than I am…,” Winston Palmer gave her a bit twisted smile over his half-reading glasses.

Louisa sighed involuntarily. “Thank you for being so kind sir. I don’t know … yeah … we found out many details. The money is siphoned off through fake or inflated invoices, or are non-declared profits from HermesShield channeled to MercuryScutum. There also is another flow of money, as far as I can see directly originating in the USA, some institution which is difficult to trace. Much of the money comes, goes and stays in the Emirates – HermesShield has kept their accounts on the Cayman Islands clean, as well as the ones in the US. They even re-transferred their Swiss accounts back to the US, as a pre-emptive goodwill measure. Additional funds needed go through Panama and the Virgin Islands, from what Tim Brewer and H.. Conrads found out,” she couldn’t bring herself to say Henry’s name, she was still too wounded from him immediately turning his back and escaping to the men’s room when he had laid eyes on her this morning in the hallway.

“‘Tell><Vigilanti’ does the organizing of mainly equipment from small producers in Switzerland, Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. All of it is dual use or small weapons and armaments exempt from or with only a low level of export controls. It is then transferred to the Emirates, where the equipment is handed over to intermediaries, personnel is recruited and other services booked. We know who does that, even though they so far haven’t admitted it. Ryan Hannerston became involved because he arranged the legal cover for all these hidden transactions and took care of obtaining necessary licenses. What we don’t know is who the real originator and who the final beneficiary is and what they did with the resources. Although thanks to the Vienna Hack Club we’ve gotten closer to their exact geographic location. But it still leaves the most decisive questions open.”

“Those are many well-documented findings. Any ideas, speculations who or what could be head or tail of the operation?”

“Well sir, I think we agree when we assume the trail leads to an outfit based in Langley – that somehow crossed paths and intentions with the NSA and Homeland Security. On the other end – I strongly assume money and equipment stay somewhere directly in the Gulf region, be it Syria, Iraq, Yemen, whatever. But who exactly, to do what – I can’t narrow that down any further.”

Palmer nodded. “Makes sense, I’m with you on all points. I was thinking – I would like to get you, Conrads and Brewer for the financial side and two people from the Arab desk at the State Department to get together as a working group and try to find clues for the missing links. Would that be an approach?”

“We can definitely use more expertise on the region …. from people we can really trust, though…,” Louisa fidgeted in her seat.

“One of the young experts from State is my wife’s godson – we can definitely trust him. What else …. you look like there’s a ‘but’ on the tip of your tongue?
“Hmmm… it’s only …. Conrads has been very elusive; I haven’t gotten any responses from him. I don’t know whether he would want to work on that,” she cringed at how small her voice sounded.

“You’re not the only one. He hasn’t been too communicative with any of us here either,” Palmer’s small grin was twisted, shaking his head. “I haven’t even….,” he closed the folder. “Now you go home, rest and be back for the reception this evening.”

“Sir, it’s only 11:15. I have so much work … mail …. to catch up….”

“That can wait. You go come and take a good long nap. You must be totally worn out after the past weeks, alone the constant time zone shift. Also – don’t you women always need extra time to get ready for a reception? Now go home!”


After a long nap Louisa had trouble motivating herself to get up, only wanted to stay in bed and hibernate. Yet she knew Palmer wouldn’t believe her if she called in sick now and the last thing she wanted was to lose her credibility in his eyes. Procrastinating in getting ready, she cancelled her hairdresser appointment – people fiddling around with her was just too much. Because of the chilly winter rain, she only smoothed some curl control over the springing waves – who cared if it looked like her hair instead of a hairstyle.

Fingering the purple evening Dirndl that hung on her closet she sighed – how much easier would it be if she could put in on, simply go to a concert or dinner with someone as easy-going and hedonistic as Martin. The past days had been a respite from her normal life, that things could be easier, less complicated, that she could be herself and that it was okay to be Baroque.

Martin’s parting words that he would be happy to look for a job for her at their European association or the OSCE still spooked through her head.

With reality biting she pulled on spanx and then the purple waist drape dress with some sequins she had bought with Amanda – it fit nicely since the slim pickings of most of her travels had made up for the past days of overindulgence in Austria.

Arriving at the firm, she didn’t want to wait in the lobby with everyone else, went to her office to be alone and started sorting her mail. A knock interrupted her –it was Jill, Henry’s sister.

“Hi… happy New Year … if I may still say so. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. All the best for this New Year to you too.”

“You look lovely – that purple is beautiful on you…”

“Errr … thank you…” Louisa was uncomfortable. Why did Jill say something like that – she looked like a purple sofa next to her little black mini dress. All the old resentments and insecurities bubbled up making her feel tired and queasy.

“Louisa … I know you’ve been on the road for weeks …. It’s probably an awful time … but please, I need your help.” She glanced up at Jill in astonishment for the first closer look, noticing that she was pale and worried looking, her flawless make up and that sexy LBD couldn’t hide it.

“As you said, I’ve been out of the loop here for a while – doubt I can be of any use.”

“Henry has been going crazy since you’ve been gone … he hasn’t been talking to me …. And now I’m so worried he’s just ruined his chance of partnership…”

“Partnership?” that was a true surprise.

“It’s off the record, Palmer offered it right after Christmas – Henry was supposed to decide and the announcement should be today. But he hasn’t decided, he’s been totally beside himself… I don’t know how to get him to think straight …” Jill wiped some tears out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Louisa knew she was hopelessly soft hearted in the face of tears. “He deserves partnership; he’s excellent at his job.”

“I know – I don’t know why he’s harming himself like he currently is. He muttered something you had a fight over Christmas presents?”

“No – not at all. I thought we were doing just fine over the holidays,” she sighed. “Jill – he’s been incommunicado with me too, not answered my emails – I’m not really up to date what’s going on here, I don’t think I can help.”

“Please, all I ask is that you try to talk to him … tell him he needs to make a rational decision. He cares so much for you,” making Louisa blush furiously. “It’s the last thing I can think of.”

“Oh alright, it can’t be more than useless,” she was astounded at her own words. Why did she give into something she felt was meaningless and potentially very embarrassing so quickly? Sleep deprivation, jet lag, Jill’s tears … or feelings for Henry resurfacing? “Where is he now?”

“Ummm … I was told he should be in his office. Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much it means to me!”

Taking the stairs up to her old office, she wondered by Jill was there for the reception but didn’t know exactly where Henry was. Sure enough, he wasn’t in his – or their old – office. Once more she enjoyed the view, before checking on her camellia in the corner. It seemed fine, only a few leaves and one blossom needing plucking. She half-kneeled to do so, as she was snapped at from behind: “What do you think you’re doing there?”

With a start, Louisa lost her balance and landed on her cushiony backside ……
agouderia is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-12-2014, 08:51 AM   #59
bayone
 
bayone's Avatar
 
Join Date: May 2014
Posts: 385
bayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions communitybayone is a pillar of the Dimensions community
Default

I went back this week and read "525." I think one of the things I enjoy about your stories is that the misunderstandings between the characters are believably grounded in their past histories and personalities, rather than the "I suddenly became jealous because the plot required it" one sometimes encounters.
bayone is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-13-2014, 11:35 PM   #60
Grundsau 11
pennagrundsau
 
Grundsau 11's Avatar
 
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: In the anthracite boonies .
Posts: 117
Grundsau 11 can now change their title
Default

I owe you an apology. It was merely an ill-considered knee-jerk reaction; the word old-fashioned is misused so blasted often these days to mean a negative quality. I might have seen that if I'd read better between the lines. It was an honest mistake, given today's current vocabulary. (or lack thereof!)
__________________
Pennagrundsau
Grundsau 11 is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-14-2014, 06:56 AM   #61
Tad
mostly harmless
 
Tad's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 12,544
Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.
Default

It had been a rather Monday-ish Monday so far, so getting a chance to read this was a blessed balm for my brain. Thank you! (and greedily, I hope you have writing time in the next while for the next installment...)
__________________
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
Tad is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-14-2014, 01:52 PM   #62
fat hiker
 
Join Date: Oct 2005
Location: Capital of the Great white north
Posts: 1,445
fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!
Default

Another deeply involving, emotionally intriguing installment - Thank you!

And, another cliffhanger ending!
__________________
"Eat, Eat! You will gain weight and be more attractive!"
- Russian Tour Hostess of the 1980s, as reported in National Geographic
fat hiker is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-23-2014, 04:27 PM   #63
Undine
Jigglypuff!
 
Undine's Avatar
 
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Eastern PA
Posts: 340
Undine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going onUndine knows EXACTLY what's going on
Default

!!! So very excited to see more of this! Thank you for the mesmerizing update!
__________________
"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?"
Sabriel, Garth Nix
Undine is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 07-24-2014, 05:54 PM   #64
Xyantha Reborn
- Actually Very Tame!
 
Join Date: Jul 2014
Location: Canada
Posts: 2,671
Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.Xyantha Reborn has ascended what used to be the highest level.
Default

I adore how your stories represent character 'issues' on both sides, and the difficulty of coming together...

The complexity of all of the background activities happening in her life adds such a realistic backdrop, and makes me hope for her all the more!!
Xyantha Reborn is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-06-2015, 11:39 AM   #65
agouderia
Library Girl
 
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 2,123
agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!agouderia keeps pushing the rep limit!
Default

2014 wasn't a good year, in many respects.

And it ended really bad for my writing: At the last meeting of a project, a clumsy colleague overturned a table, several things toppled over, the stick on which I save my stories flew out of my handbag and was smashed by the edge of the table crashing down on it.

So far, nobody has been able to recover the data I had saved on it - including 5 new chapters here of 'Legally Yours'.

Admittedly I was not able to muster the energy to sit down and re-write them over the Christmas break; I was just too frustrated.

Especially since a recent event got my imagination whirring in another direction.
See new thread 'Energetic Expansions'.

So please have a lot more patience regarding the future of Henry & Louisa - so sorry for the awfully long delay!
agouderia is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-06-2015, 09:36 PM   #66
Tad
mostly harmless
 
Tad's Avatar
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 12,544
Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.
Default

Oh, that is terrible about your lost memory stick I really feel for you, it is so hard to get the enthusiasm to re-write lost material, at least in my experience.
__________________
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
-Djuna Barnes, writer and artist
Tad is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 05-12-2017, 02:51 AM   #67
Anjula
miss wonderfulamazing
 
Anjula's Avatar
 
Join Date: Nov 2010
Location: Poland
Posts: 1,035
Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!
Default

Oh my! Are we ever gonna hear from them again? :o
__________________
www.biijacz.tumblr.com
Anjula is offline   Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump


All times are GMT -7. The time now is 05:51 PM.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2018, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Copyright Dimensions Magazine. All rights reserved worldwide.