People 

What makes them do what they do?                                                                      

Robbing banks thinking it’s a done job.                                                                            

Smile fucker your on CCTV.                                                                                       

Some have ten kids live on the social.                                                                             

Got that life sussed.                                                                                                        

Never known a days work in their life.                                                                                 

But we are told we must tolerate them.                                                                          

As Muslim immigrants blow up bus and tube trains,                                                                 

our guys and gals fight muzzars where the Soviets failed.                                                

People... have gone mad.                                                                                                 

What next? 

red menace

In a similar manner to his leader, Number Two lined his jet up and opened fire, his first burst arcing lazily over the starboard wing. Calming his nerves and his breathing, he fired again after correcting his aim. Letting all of his ammunition go in one long burst, he peppered the silver Boeing with lethal High Explosive shells, cutting hydraulic control lines to the starboard wing flaps. Fluid flowed like blood down the damaged wing and atomised in the airflow into a fine mist. One section of flap came away from the control mounting and moved down its actuator path, jamming on one side. This created drag and turbulence and shook the whole aircraft. Jagged shell holes and damage doomed the Boeing. A section of spoiler from the front leading edge of the wing detached to spin past like confetti. Flames leapt out of a shattered number four engine. Shattered fan blades had punctured fuel lines and more dangerously the main outboard fuel tank. Escaping fuel streamed back and mixed with hydraulic fluid, a Devil’s brew that ignited with a whoomph! Losing height with locked controls and a dead engine and major damage, time was against the Boeing.

“Red Bird Two to Red Bird Lead, I have exhausted my ammunition. Target plane is badly damaged. Over.”

“Red Bird Lead to Red Bird Two. Drop back onto me – we will use heat seeking missiles to finish him. The fire will provide a strong heat signature greater than his engines. Stay by my side and we will fire together from ten kilometres. Standby to manoeuvre now. Out.”

Describing a large circle, both of the silver Sukhoi “Flagon” interceptors came round and positioned themselves ten clicks behind the doomed Boeing. While doing this Tupelov informed Control of current events. At twenty thousand feet Tupelov used his infra red sensor to lock onto the heat, three running engines and a hundred long banner of flame from the right wing tanks, leaking hydraulic fluid, a dead engine and port wing damage on an engine that still ran. Locking his “Spin Scan” radar on made sure he wouldn’t miss or fail. On his radar screen a large box surrounded the blip of the Boeing; a similar one with a cross inside was displayed on the HUD. On the Infra-Red sensor screen a black shape like a knife on edge with a long sausage in the middle showed up. White bits danced and glowed angrily – fire and heat from the damaged and remaining engines. A high pitch noise filled Tupelov’s earphones telling him that his heat seeking AA-6 “Anab” missiles had a solid lock on. Ivan’s followed a moment later. In unison both pilots launched. Under each outer wing panel a heat seeking Infra-Red guided missile left its launch rail on a tail of white fire. Leaving a delicate white smoke trail, four missiles speared through the blue sky to their target covering miles in seconds at Mach 3 plus. In a simultaneous impact and detonation four warheads appeared as one and destroyed the target. There were yellow flashes as four times one hundred and forty pounds of explosives mixed with titanium bits of shrapnel caused carnage. Blown into large bits, taken to pieces by missile power, flaming debris fell earthwards. A cloud of burning fuel fanned out, black smoke boiling upwards. Trails of fiery smoke followed what had once been a large shiny silver airplane, down to a watery grave. No one survived, no one baled out, nothing.

Once again the Soviet Motherland had been protected from foreign airborne intrusion by the enemy by a powerful system of radars and interceptors. If this had been a B-52 with a Hydrogen bomb, a city or more would have been saved. With fuel running low both Soviet interceptors turned for home. One last radio message was sent by a quiet Lead Pilot Tupelov.

“Target is destroyed, repeat target is destroyed by cannon and missile fire. It has blown up and is falling into the ocean. There appears to be no survivors. Permission to return to base. Over.”

“Control to Red Bird Lead, good work,” Control replied. “Permission granted. Return to base. Use runway one-two. Search and rescue planes are scrambling. Please give shoot down location. Out.”

An international incident had occurred, people had died, an airplane shot down. Was it a spy plane or an airliner? Events would move fast now, either to solve this tragic event or lead to World War Three. Time would tell...

Lady

Two people 'met' in the most stupid of ways. A young mother, 27, enjoying a night out. First time out in seven years. Having a laugh with her mate. Her partner babysits their kids.

Drunken chav drinks all he can. Out with his pals. Been here and there. Walking down the street with a bottle. Tries to enter the pub, bouncer says no. The chav was too pissed.

Drunken chav launches the bottle into the pub. It hits a wooden pillar and shatters. A jagged bit of glass hits the young mum in her neck. She bleeds to death in 2 or 3 minutes.

The drunken chav was eventually arrested and charged with manslaughter. He got a few years. Her husband has a bit missing. There are many questions. Most unanswered.

One thing is certain, a fact: a lady is dead.

out now by jimmy

Times of Nonchalance By Jimmy Boom Semtex

Copyright 2014 Jimmy Boom Semtex. All rights reserved.
Only a single poem, paragraph or single photo maybe used for reviewing purposes. Credit Jimmy Boom Semtex as author.
ISBN: 978-1-291-77683-6

Derringer One
That oh so beautiful Derringer pistol was not just a gun. She was art. Silver chrome that shone in the lamp light. Engraved on the chrome were names of Wild West legends: Butch Cassidy and Sundance. They were here only a decade ago. Mother of pearl handle, white as desert bone. Her twin barrels, one above the other, were black as death. The .45 slugs in there had my name on them. My heart was breaking. They had done it! Why oh why oh why? Consigned me to the scrap heap. I was due to start a job making steam trains on Monday. They cancelled the contract and gave it to Germany. Their engineers were better. Damn this commercial economics! Damn them to hell! I picked up the beautiful Derringer pistol. Clicked back the hammer to full cock. And placed it in my mouth. The trigger pull was sensitive. Like me...

Two
I heard the wood fire crackling when I came to. I must have passed out. I didn't know where I was. Then I saw the pretty Derringer pistol and it came rushing back to me. I had used that same pistol to commit suicide. The Germans had stolen our steam train work. And I was broke, with no cash. This was a day after my fiancé, Amy, ran off with a cowboy. He was a real man. Six shooters, horse, leather saddle, tough as hell. Last of his kind. I had nothing except my job. So I used the gun. But why am I still here? Am I a ghost or wounded? I felt no pain nor saw any blood. I was unharmed. I should be dead. I reached down to pick it up...

old poems

NINE

1,2,…8,9 glowing sunsets turn the horizon liquid gold.

Each one a manmade sun, a sight that God would behold.

Such is the awesome beauty in the death

of nine million people in as many seconds.

This is man’s power, so destructive in his ways

that he is almost like a God. But unlike God,

man can only destroy himself and his world.

CEILING ROSE

An alabaster ceiling rose is ever so delicate,

a round swirling pattern that is a joy to look at.

It used to be white but now it’s all yellow

with centuries of grime and age old smoke.

People stop and wonder what went on under

the hanging lights, what was said, who loved

who and who dared to dance close.

Today the huge dance hall is empty

and the ceiling rose and lights have nothing

but a sound of silence for company.

new plane poem book no2 book/ebook poem/link

Sunny 8

Damn Yankee Mustang gonna be a real bastard and blow some Krauts outa the fucking sky. Try and stop me mother fuckers! 50cal gunning you down, got many of your kindred by my shells. Always escape with my life. No 109 or 190 ever came close to nailing me.

I'm not called Chuck Yeager! Hell no! I was in Zemke's Wolf Pack.

I died in a field near Mossley, England. No Nazi ever got me. Tell my loved ones it was the weather. Almost took my wingman with it, lost his wing tip when my bird went in. Bang! Gone.

I was a Mustang pilot. Gunning Nazis down.http://www.lulu.com/shop/nick-armbrister/aeroplane-poems-2-by-nick-armbrister/ebook/product-22058487.html

red menace lol

Air Base 1602, Kamachatka Peninsula.

Alert jets stood on the concrete waiting for the order to scramble with pilots strapped into the cockpits, canopies down and power on. Four long sleek missiles hung under the silver aircraft, bare metal shining in the new spring sun. Two missiles per wing, two Infra-Red guided homing in on an enemies engine exhaust, balanced out by two Radar guided missiles homing onto metal reflected on the interceptor’s own radar. Like a torch in the night sky saying “I am here!”

Lead Pilot Sevinsky Tupelov checked his radio for the nth time. In his native Russian he spoke businesslike: “Red Bird Lead to tower, any new orders for us? Over.”

A reply was instantaneous. “No new orders yet, Red Bird Lead. All screens are clear. Keep vigilant and alert. If we have any new information we will contact you. Out.”

Three hours into the alert it happened – an intermittent blip on the Long Range radar screen. One sweep of the lazy radar arm – blip. Nothing for several seconds. Radar operator becoming aware, staring at his now blank screen, willing it to blip again and kill his boredom. Blip. Yes, there! Blip, blip, blip. A solid skin paint passing extreme range coming into the radars eye, an all-seeing Type 21 “Light Top” Long Range Search Radar, at a range of two hundred and eight miles. No given altitude yet. A couple more minutes and that information would be forthcoming. In the meantime:

“Radar Station North at Air Base 1602 to Command. We have an unknown contact estimated speed four hundred miles an hour on a bearing of 150 degrees at extreme range. No given height yet. Standby for that information Command. Over.” People came to life and computers absorbed data from the unseen contact seen by the Long Range radar. Men trained in the science of air defence did their jobs – they were the best. A chain of events started that couldn’t be stopped. Human nature and human error would lead to catastrophe – it was a sign of the times.

“Command to Radar Station North, observe contact and keep reporting bearing and height information when you get it. If the target comes to within one hundred and fifty miles, scramble your alert jets. Your orders are to identify and classify. Out.” The Command centre located two hundred miles north of the airbase issued their orders.

“Okay, Command, will do. Standby for new range information.” Checking his green screen for several seconds and taking in the numbers, the operator replied: “Target is now one hundred and ninety four miles still on the same heading and at the same speed. Height is now thirty six thousand feet. Over.”

Moving closer to them the bogey headed through the clear blue cloudless sky. A snow-covered landscape evened out this beautiful view, idyllic in itself – a distraction of what would later happen.

“Okay Radar Station North, try to communicate verbally with the unidentified aircraft. It might be an American spy plane. We need to identify this. Out.”

Peering at his scope the Long Range Radar Controller picked up his intercom link and contacted his superior officer in Command. “Captain, this is Sergeant Valeri. I have picked up a Long Range contact on radar at 150 degrees, speed four hundred, height thirty six thousand. The target is unidentified, repeat unidentified. I have contacted Air Defence Control and have been ordered to scramble the alert planes when the target crosses one hundred and fifty miles distance from our base.”

“Keep reading off the range, height, speed and bearing. Inform Control every ten miles and also myself. Presently I will pass target spotting to the Medium Range Controller. Good work Sergeant Valeri.”

In the alert interceptors Lead Pilot Tupelov fidgeted against his tight seat straps. Thoughts of his coming leave distracted him from his duties: no more snowy wastes, no more twenty four hour alert duties, twelve spent in this cramped Sukhoi cockpit for his Motherland. A sharp radio call snapped him out of his daydream; instinct took over and he became all the professional. “Lead Pilot Tupelov, this is the Control Tower. We have an unidentified radar contact presently passing the one hundred and fifty mile line, the Point of No Return. Height is thirty six thousand feet, bearing one five zero degrees, speed four hundred miles an hour. Your orders are to scramble with Red Bird Two and to identify and to escort the intruder out of our airspace. If the target doesn’t comply your orders are to fire warning shots and to destroy it if it doesn’t comply. Over.”

“Okay. Lead Pilot Tupelov and Wingman Ivan will comply. Out.”

In the radar complex all verbal orders for the target to identify itself remained unanswered. Was it a deliberate ploy or a grave error? On the runway both Sukhoi Su­20 “Flagon” alert interceptors started the engines and finished their cockpit checks. Taxiing out to the runway orders were exchanged and followed. Lighting the afterburners for take off, the morning was shattered by four sheets of flame pushing the silver fighters down the concrete and into the sky. Red stars on their flanks showed up ominously as the jets climbed up into the blue sky, arcing out to sea towards the intruder. Missiles were armed and radars activated from standby mode. The race was on.

Coming out of afterburner to save fuel with speed at six hundred knots, both huge Sukhoi jets increased height leaving their base behind them on the receding coastline. Passing thirty five thousand feet after three minutes of climb they slowed the climb as they came to the intruders altitude. Both “Spin Scan” radars in the interceptors nose stayed blank; their search range was only eighty kilometres with a lock on range of fifty in good conditions. Old radars using vacuum tubes took some careful handling to work properly. Here in the clear air at altitude with no weather to confuse the radar or ground clutter to give false echoes, conditions couldn’t be better. It would be less than a minute when they acquired the target at roughly fifty miles distance; that would run down to thirty miles lock on when the radar could guide a missile successfully. Radar seekers in the missile would seek out the enemy and obliterate it. Trying his Infra-Red Search and Track sensor to find the target, Tupelov grumbled to himself when his screen remained blank. He knew he was out of range and a head-on intercept had the least probability of success. A tail chase would be best suited due to the heat of the engines but precious fuel would be used to overhaul the target plane. This intercept profile was a head-on one, so Ground Radar guided them to the target. Commands came through Tupelov’s headphones that he relayed to his wingman, but he would be able to find the enemy anyhow due to his experience and it being daylight and clear weather.

On the ground tension mounted. This had never happened before for all intruders had turned away of their own accord or been escorted by the interceptors at a range little less than 200 miles. This was much closer – it was different. It must be an American spy plane, one of their modified Boeing airliners full of listening gear and cameras and God knows what to monitor Soviet radars and communications in the area. Could it be a bomber, one of the dangerous B-52’s armed with nuclear bombs? What if it was a rogue pilot on a one-way doomsday mission, intent on starting a Third World War? His training quickly stopped him from second-guessing. Procedures had to be followed. If the alert fighters failed then ground-based missiles would be armed and turned towards the distant target until forty miles away, then launched. A last minute insurance policy for one could never be too sure. Mother Russia needed to be protected from the enemy Capitalists.

There! At a search range of fifty-three miles the “Spin Scan” radar of Red Bird Two painted the target, not a faint paint like the Long Range radar had picked up before but a firm image. It must be a large aircraft! “Red Bird Two to Red Bird Leader. I have picked up a contact off our nose at fifty-three miles. Do you have it yet? Over.”

“Aaah, no Red Bird Two, don’t have it on my scope yet. What heading is it on?”

“Off our nose now passing fifty miles. Heading is five degrees off our track. Over.”

“I have it now, Red Bird Two, I have him on my scope. Stick close and be observant. I will contact Ground Control for further instructions. Out.”

Distance counted down on radar displays, in computer banks, in people’s heads. A faint contrail became visible at thirty kilometres, a delicate thread of white gossamer trailing behind the target. Frozen water droplets from the engine’s exhaust. Their own contrails would soon be visible from their smaller Sukhoi jets, both of which would still be smaller than whatever they were intercepting. This was a large target. Infra-Red sensors picked up a faint heat trace but not enough for a firing solution. No problem, the radar moved into Lock On mode. Tupelov’s gloved hands moved over controls establishing the Lock On for the Radar guided missiles, two on each Sukhoi. If launched now these deadly AA-6 “Anab” medium range missiles would speed towards their enemy at a speed of Mach 3 and kill it. Unless decoyed by large amounts of chaff or by electronic jamming. The Infra Red guided missiles picked up a heat trace at a head-on distance at fifteen kilometres, half of the thirty of their Radar Guided brothers.

Shooting through the sky like a pair of predators on the hunt, the merge began – a silver airplane came into blue streaming a large contrail. Big, fat, with four engines. A Boeing of some kind

“There he is, there he is! Come round and circle him. Take up position on his starboard wing. I’ll take the port and attempt to see if they visually acquire us.” In his excitement Lead Pilot Tupelov forgot to use the correct terminology for his wingman. It didn’t matter – the message passed from fighter to fighter.

“Yes I see him Red Bird Lead. Will formate to starboard on him. Out.” Arcing round and joining formation both silver red starred jets joined the Boeing in a textbook formation, studying the target plane for many seconds, gathering information. Tupelov used his training to do his duty; he checked his throttle settings, opened his airbrakes slightly and moved his stick to waggle his wings. Then flashed his landing lights in broad daylight – a useless act? And again, rock his wings, the lights. No reply. Time for a radio call.

“Unidentified aircraft, you are in restricted airspace. Identify yourself and prepare to follow us. Over.”

Gothic Sunrise by Jimmy Boom Semtex Copyright 2014 Jimmy Boom Semtex. All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-291-91419-1

Gothic Sunrise by Jimmy Boom Semtex

Copyright 2014 Jimmy Boom Semtex. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-291-91419-1

The main club in Renford where the alternative people went was called Gothic Night; other smaller clubs dotted the locality like Hell’s Gate, Sinister and Lucifer’s Place. Pubs and bars also occupied spaces on these dark streets, notorious places like Dead Central, Standing Stones and Zombie Palace. The Goths and heavy metal people bought their leather jackets, leather combat trousers, silver jewellery and other clothes from the underground market called Satan’s Armpit. It catered for the 'underground culture'. This had over three dozen stalls and shops, people dealing in exotic things, sex for sale, massage parlours, two tattooists and much more besides, to cater for the desires of an alternative population in this part of town.

These places never went out of business, cash wasn’t exchanged but items were still “sold” for things like unwanted jewellery, tour t-shirts (very rare and old), certain personal favours and for skills offered. A silver ring could be “bought” for a semi precious stone found in the mountains or a four pack of strong locally brewed beer for a CD from one of the underground (not underground as in the market, more like cult) bands that frequented the area. A thriving little community lived and breathed in the northern area of Renford giving the people some semblance of a normal life and the town a nice little subculture that was both feared and respected.

Some of the characters were: Denise, a middle aged a Goth who was full of tattoos showing all manner of shocking things. She had jet-black hair and a full figure that was accentuated in her tight black leather dress she always wore. What she did for a living was debatable. Then there was Jason who was in his thirties, a Goth guy who wore old gothic tour tops from when the original bands toured so long ago. His tops were worth a fortune but no one dared try and take them, Jason could handle himself with some little known Eastern Martial Arts. He was a musician and a writer amongst other things. Craig ran a shop selling old coins and dog eared postcards from a basement in the dark part of town; he was a fifty something Goth who knew everyone and their business. He helped many a person who had a problem and had contacts up and down the country, even in the occupied areas. Sandra was a widow from cancer that stole her dear husband when he was just twenty-two years old. They had just been married a year and she always had his photo on her and her flat was a shrine to him and what could have been. She specialised in painting artwork on the back of leather jackets and other art genres. Sandra was very pretty but chose to remain a widow and never love again; sex was a different matter though. Another character was Rolo because he was the biggest Goth in Renford, weighing in at twenty-eight stone and standing seven foot two. He was shaped like a guinea pig standing on its back two legs; he had a prodigious appetite and ate anything including live rats. He worked as security for various clients in the alternative quarter of town and as a minder when bands were on tour in the area. These were just a selection of some of the people who inhabited the gothic part of Renford; different parts of town had other characters that were equally interesting.

my selda-dos review and ode to laluna info...

I'm a fan of live music, alternative stuff like metal, goth and much more. I'd like to share a venue and band with you. I've spent several good nights there seeing the band live along with other groups. Read on if you want to know more...

In their own words: A one-stop music hub offering a lifetime imprisonment of music!

Selda-Dos
Selda-Dos is a pub/bar/live music venue in Quezon City, Metro Manila area, run by Selena Moon. It's a new venue with varied music nights where music like rock, acoustic and metal is played to a live audience. An example is the Acoustic Indie night held on a Tuesday. Open mic events are also held. Many local and international bands gig there to a packed audience. Sound and light systems are excellent, giving the audience clear music. When live music isn't on, a PA system plays a variety of metal and rock music.
A unique prison type theme resounds through Selda-Dos. This includes cells, complete with bunk/table/chairs for 'inmates' eating their 'last meal', served by orange jump suited staff, before facing the 'electric chair' and a 'height chart' for 'suspects' to be photographed against. A simple but strangely very effective theme for a venue. If you've ever served time or done bird, be warned. The setting is both real and authentic. Of course, entertainment and a fun filled evening is a must. You may leave your mark by marker penning your name on the cell wall. With permission of course. A security guard gives discreet but effective security.

Drinks
Being a bar, Selda-Dos serves a wide range of drinks and food. For example, single bottles of San Mig, Pale Pilsen, Red Horse or Super Dry beer are on sale or buckets. A beer tower is P300. Spirits like vodka cost P50 a shot. Bottles of cola are on sale for non-drinkers. Happy Hour is 7-10PM Monday-Sunday. On some promo nights a free drink is included in the entrance cost. One example is for a Penalty (cost) P75 entry/drink at the Alternative Rock and Blues Behind Bars night. Some shots are on offer too. All prices, including food, are great value.

Food
Meals include starters to main courses and desserts. The menu is long and varied with for example Oxo Gang Pasta with names like Tuyo Will Die. The Murdered Burger is aptly named. Other food is called Robbery, Fraud and Arson. Sausages are of note with Prison Angel Sausage being one example. All the staff are highly trained, professional and courteous. Food is served quickly and arrives hot.

Getting There
To get to Selda-Dos, there are various ways from taxi to jeepney. Google Maps gives an effective route planner there from your location. Other bars nearby give varied evening.

Contact Details

Telephone:  0916 259 5250
Address: Selda-Dos, Visayas Avenue, Tandang Sora, Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines.

Ode To LaLuna (OTLL)
One band that plays Selda-Dos is Ode To LaLuna (OTLL). Five members make up this band. Members are: Yue - Drums, Iah - Guitars, Sin - Bass, Selene - Keyboards and Ishtar - Vocals. People need to know what a band sounds like and music wise they are Goth/Dark/Symphonic Metal/Heavy Metal. But those are labels. Talking of labels, OTLL are on Inner Circle Production record label. Make up your own minds and enjoy their songs, as I do. OTLL is an excellent band of talented members. They can be booked for gigs, functions, weddings (they gigged my wedding) and more.

Music includes their own songs off an album, Moonbreak, or their new forthcoming release which is out soon. The greatly moon inspires the band and their music. Various cover versions are in their repertoire including Lacuna Coil through Metallica and Paramore much more.

Promotions
Various promos will take place in 2015, for example Alternative Rock and Blues Behind Bars night. A promo on production events, special occasions and VIP/function room reservation with new affordable rates is available. To also collaborate with Selda-Dos on production events, call 0915-4335264 or 0915-2595250.

Selda-Dos Recording Studio
A 2nd floor recording studio is available to hire. With the Early Rehearsal Jammers Promo, it's for hire P160 per hour from 3-7PM daily.
Location: 389 2nd Floor, Dona Ignacia Building, Visayas Ave Ext, Tandang Sora,

Quezon City.
Telephone: 0977 199 6460 for queries and bookings.

Fire Extinguisher Man book 1 jimmy boom semtex

Fire Extinguisher Man book 1 jimmy boom semtex

Her husband wouldn't be home for six to eight hours yet. There was an ocean of time in those hours. Forever in fact. And they'd use that time, like an explorer used his years of wandering to find new lands. And that changed the known world, just as this changed Mel's world. A line had been crossed, no going back. What would her lady friends think? One had supported her on her idea to answer the ad.
Fire Extinguisher Man removed her underwear and carefully placed it on the coffee table. He looked at her; she was perfect. Looking like the lady singer in Paramore. Unlike her, Mel was accessible and sat upon Fire Extinguisher Man's lap. He shifted position so she could see his 'advantage'; it slowly grew in size as he became aroused. She gasped.
"Oh my fucking God!" Mel exclaimed. She peered closer. "It's huge. Your cock is fucking huge!"
"Yes, I know. Twelve inches of it," Fire Extinguisher Man said.

Eternal Happenings

Oh how my dreams wandered far and wide, not knowing why. Till I caught a hint of something more than nothing. A faint fragment of crystal caught in the eye of a woman, where? Existing or caught in the ether? Faraway and none existent?

Then I woke up, no; I never slept that night. Yes, no sleep then. Hindered by that, guided by 'something', unsure of what. My Pagan Goddess as my co-pilot? Showing me the way to where you are. That took time. A long time.

Longer than far off continents being formed. Longer than painting the clouds in the sky. Longer than melting candle wax to make the moon. Longer than her fingers performing magic, making the stars. Longer than...

Then I was there, by your side. There I've remained, through the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. Lifetimes and forever will be added to that. Legend says we must seek our other half. Do we?

I have found the answer to my great eternal mystery. What I have looked for all these decades. That answer is simple. Do you know what it is? The answer is you, my dear wife. No more searching or yearning for you, my Carole.

Fire Extinguisher Man Erotic Stories Series Three

Get ready for book 3! Fire Extinguisher Man is back, an ex fireman, who now has the perfect job. He's a gigolo for hire. The best lover, a trained counselor, he's perfect company for the ladies. Join him in five stories with wives and women who want real action. A mother and daughter out jogging experience more than a run. See what they get up to. A lady called Tanya exchanges some raunchy messages with Fire Extinguisher Man. What do they say? And meet Victoria, a happily married woman. She wants some secret fun. Other stories aren't what is expected. Do you want to find out? This is Jimmy Boom Semtex's new erotic short story series. Over 18s only. Prepare for action ladies. Husbands watch out! Fire Extinguisher Man is on the prowl.http://www.lulu.com/shop/jimmy-boom-semtex/fire-extinguisher-man-erotic-stories-series-three/ebook/product-22052768.html

The Lady From Afar (verse 1 by Jimmy Boom Semtex/Nick Armbrister. Verse 2 by P.J. Reed)

Happy to share with you my joint poem written with P.J. Reed, a very talented writer.

The Lady From Afar
(verse 1 by Jimmy Boom Semtex/Nick Armbrister. Verse 2 by P.J. Reed)

I see the lady from afar. She looks away, not from me but from something else. I'm unsure what. It appears to be known only to her. Some malady tormenting her that others can't see. Is it in her mind or something else? A mischievous spirit or malevolent demon? With the power to tarnish this lady's reputation, hound her senses and crush her will to live. A frightful expression forms upon her pretty face. Shadows drop over her light green eyes. Real or imagined? Fantastically cruel or fakery beyond doubt? Her long black dress once looked elegant. Now it's stained ever darker - blood! Her own or another's? If another's, what happened? A fight with a lover? A duel with her sister? An insane mother finally coming unhinged? Or herself, falling to the abyss?

She approaches; trailing lavender fields and golden summers through the amber streets. A thousand years of ancient wonder in the greeness of her eyes. Drifts of ebony hair wave to me as she walks. An intoxicating eastern beauty I reach out as she glides by. Black dress caught between by fingers, crumbles to my touch. I breathe her ash, it cuts my throat, makes my eyes bleed red. I choke in penance for my lust and fall screaming to the ground as I see in the distance the lady from afar.

MILF

A MILF was a really good catch. One, a mother of two teenagers, emailed Fire Extinguisher Man wanting to book him for a couple of hours of fun. She said her name was Victoria. The gigolo sent her his photos, price list and services he offered. Details were worked out by email rather than phone and they arranged to meet.

Victoria picked Fire Extinguisher Man in a hire car. She was happily married and wanted some more action. Secrecy was a must, hence the hire car and lack of phone calls. Her email was a new one just for the encounter.

"I like a good time. Normally my husband provides that but I wanted something extra," Victoria explained.

"A few people want that. Not everyone who calls me or meets up with me is unhappily married or single. A few are quite content. So I understand your situation. Discretion is a must," the gigolo replied.

FINAL FLIGHT from 2006, written as 10 x mma free msgs on nokia net phone. odd how my lover is annie and when i roll our warplane, her hair is all wild. like in the crap film 50 shades...

from 2006, written as 10 x mma free msgs on nokia net phone. odd how my lover is annie and when i roll our warplane, her hair is all wild. like in the crap film 50 shades... also that stupid cunt putin the dog should take note, this story is from the soviet/russian side. and portrays them as people. this could happen... actually t720 plane... my error.

FINAL FLIGHT

Harriers hit us at dawn. Did their job pretty well. Bombed our runway, cratering the tarmac in a dozen places, killing six groundcrew, two aircrew and two officers. Our fuel truck went-up, too, as did three planes. We can use the grass to fly; we’ll miss our groundcrew, but we can service our own jets. Sacha and his WSO never got to the shelter. A sad loss, we’ll fight back even harder. Officers, screw them. Fuelling by hand from 50-gallon drums and hand pump is hard, but what we train for. Our planes can’t be replaced. Scorched and blasted to bits, like our lost men. Gone. Time to fly, to hit back against NATO. Yes, we’ll really screw them over. Everyone to the briefing tent, including my Annie. She’s my co-pilot, navigator, Weapon System Operator, and sensor operator. She’s good, that’s why I chose her to be with me in battle. She is second-to-none – and I’m in love with her, completely. If our officers knew of our affair, I’d be grounded – she would be transferred at the least. But, this is war – World War III, to be exact.
We receive a full briefing considering our field conditions. Our officers are jerks, but good at their job. Everyone listened, wanting to miss nothing. We all knew some would die.
To our warplanes! Take the netting off – annoying as it always snags on the eight-blade prop. Open the cockpit canopy. Annie climbs into her front cockpit to do the pre-flight check and bring the systems up. I do the walkround checking to see if anything isn’t as it should be. I get to the weapons and remove the arming pins. Our loadout is two Brightstar IF air-to-air missiles on each outer wing pylon, two Saffron anti-tank missiles inboard, two Medusa anti-radar missiles on the inner wing pylons and, to enhance our range, three drop-tanks: two inboard of the Medusas and a centreline one behind the semi-recessed twin 23mm cannon pack. This Annie armed when I was in the cockpit. Nothing amiss, I climbed aboard and did my own pre-flight, checked with Annie that everything was green, then closed the canopy.
Signalling to the groundcrew to remove the power lead, I initiated start-up procedure: six steps to get our eight-blade prop spinning. Hear the APU whine and turn the turboprop over. Noise building, even in my earphones. All okay on the MFD showing engine parameters. Move the single throttle from idle to minimum to max power. Feel our bird come alive. See Annie busy with her screens. Check to see if she is okay, that our plane is; switch to encrypted channel and quick clearance to go. Yes! We roll out of our earth revetment to the grass take-off strip. Why didn’t the Harriers sow denial weapons? We’d have lost more jets. Full power, away we go, bumping over the grass past burnt-out planes, to the sky. We are airborne! Climb out at shallow angle to stay below NATO radar (we don’t believe it, radar has moved on) and give us maximum surprise.
Our fuel burn is higher but we are so near the front... I scan my three MFD screens, see we’re being picked up by NATO radar, so I drop us lower – our radar-absorbing paint and carbon fibre helps, but death is death. My tension increases.
I see Annie before me, her head moving from display to display, to her HUD, to look outside and back again. I feel the urge to tell her what she means to me, that the songs are true. I don’t. I order a new course to our target. We all fly alone. Good or bad tactics? Historians will discuss this later, if anyone survives this.
Suddenly, our RWR comes alive – NATO fighter! I turn into the threat that my display shows is to my port. I order Annie to turn our ECM jammer to manual then to auto. Should’ve done it before! Could be our death! I switch my HUD to dogfight mode and do a series of turns to check our tail. Clear. There! Sun glinting on a canopy, a flare of flame as a missile is launched. Heat-seeker this close; dropping chaff to break his lock, flares to blind his missile. Come on, Annie, jam his radar, be my eyes. G-force crushes me, my turn takes us to a wing above the ground. Be careful! Climb, full combat power. Turn, roll, face him. His Sidewinder misses as my turn is too tight and the missile cannot follow us. BANG! As it detonates twenty metres away, shockwave from 25 pounds of iron filled with explosives shakes my plane. A Devil slap, white-hot shrapnel cuts into the right wing, two neat holes in the carbon fibre skin. I glance at the holes, at my MFD showing minor damage only, nothing bad, and at the holes again, then at the enemy. I recognise him as an F-20 Tigershark as she shoots past. NATO’s best fighter means trouble.
Annie turns our radar to air-to-air, gives me control of it and our two Brightstar missiles and wishes me luck as I turn and follow him. Almost out of sight, he arcs around in a high g-turn to re-attack. My Topaz radar acquires him, I lock him up with my HOTAS controls and I grunt as a green box appears on my HUD. His coffin, should he enter it. My helmet sights back it up, gives overkill when my enemy is outside my HUD. I bring our nose up, roll wings level and speed towards him. Several hundred feet up and climbing, visible to AWACS and everyone else scanning heavenwards. Growl in my ear. Lock-on! F-20 in my helmet sights, just above my HUD. Press the tit, port Brightstar ignites on a tail of fire, spears away so fast. I half roll, turn and dive away for the deck. I punch out half-a-dozen flares and chaff, ignoring the centre MFD and HUD repeater saying that Annie is dispensing the same damn countermeasures. Close in, our jammers struggle due to his high power agile radar. The RWR gives bearings on two search radar. SAMs. More dangerous than any F-20 – hidden death from below. Cutting it fine, I dive us below tree level, roll into a valley and safety. Our RWR goes black. Glancing around and above, I see a brief explosion over a hill. Did we get him or did he evade our missiles, like we did his – just? Ground warning horn blaring – ten feet limit! I pull-up around fallen boulders, turn around valley sides, follow a winding path. In my element, I lift my wing as the horn goes off again. Annie shouts her curses at me, the war...
Recklessly, I scream at her, my Annie who’d die if I push instead of pull the stick. Who I’d never let anyone else have – like my plane. I killed the damn horn, pushed my control stick and we headed lower. Five feet above level ground, she screams in terror, startling me. I pull-up over a boulder as big as a tank. Glancing at my mirror, I see dust kicked up by my prop-wash. I let our nose rise, kick full right rudder and snap-roll in the valley. Scream my love for Annie, who turns to look at me in terror, some loose black hair twirling with the g-force. She sees my wicked grin and returns it, briefly. I level off as the valley dies out. Annie curses me, says she loves me for always, that I’m the best pilot. I smile. This is as close to marriage as we could get.
Hell! Armoured column! Tanks passing under us. No radar. I line-up to fire my 23mm cannon, see shells strike a tank without harm. Another. Too much top-armour. Troop carrier. Quick correction – got him! Light armour smashed by my explosive and armour piercing shells. I smile at the thought of NATO troops being blown to bits, burned alive and killed. Annie brings up ground scan on the radar, tells me what I can already see: thirty-plus vehicles on one narrow road; now SAM or anti-aircraft defence as the RWR was blank. I fire at another APC. Ordered Annie to lock-up a tank with a Saffron on our next pass. At full throttle, I open the air-breaks, turn on a wing and shoot back down the line. Annie smoothly talks herself through her act, launches. I felt the kick back as our port anti-tank missile left the rail. Down it went to kill a Challenger tank in one go. Soon, our other Saffron did the same, another tank and crew dead. What a run! Better than any training exercise, any day! Around again with guns blazing, searching-out troop carriers that stop to try and save their men. I get one kill, another damaged before my ammo runs out. Annie calls up the squadron and army tank-killing choppers to come to the party. We head-back to base.
Mission almost over, quick exhilaration of battle leaves me tired. Annie snaps me out of my reverie as we change course. My IFF gives off friendly signals as Annie tells me Major Topol, our CO, has congratulated us on the tank find. He is inbound to attack, co-ordinating with two other of our planes. Two others had used all their ammo on pre-set targets, they RTB. We had already lost one jet with crew missing. Annie made it clear that it was so nearly us, I stopped her. I am a better pilot than what-was-his-name? The new guy from Kirov. Newbies die first. Still, my two years on Sukhoi Su-25s in Afghanistan had taught me well. I was hit by small arms fire nine times, lost an engine to a Stinger and struggled back in a dying jet. There weren’t many 25s then, I was honoured by my CO but that meant little when I saw my comrades die every week. Then I learnt to hate officers, transferred out of the war to the new Aeroprogress training centre on the new Sukhoi T.134 attack fighter. My combat experience was needed due to their new design being ready to be shipped to the war. We spent two years deciding what worked, what didn’t. A guerrilla war was nothing for what we planned for: the full takeover of Western Europe by force. I was shocked when I learnt the truth, but I had expected it. NATO had sabre-rattled against our front line re-equipment. Our new T.134 was just such a weapon, along with attack choppers like our Mil 28 and Kamov 52, our MiG 29 and Sukhoi 27 multirole fighters, our Tupelov 22M3 and Tupelov 160 nuclear bombers. Not to mention the nuclear missiles for if – and when – NATO responded. We had new tanks, APCs and all the other equipment we would need. As the T.134 was a two-seater, I was crewed with Annie to show her what tactical fighting was all about. Falling in-love wasn’t part of the plan, our secret and ours alone. Now we needed one another like never before. It was total war.
Suddenly, our RWR came alive with three ground radars searching for us. Immediately one locked-on to us, warning tone changing from a mesmerising sound like a bird to an evil report that I turned down. A second had got intermittent lock. We, me and Annie, talked, planned. Climbing so we popped-up permanently on their scopes, we turned our jammer to manual. Annie gently found their frequency, told the computer to follow any shifts and jammed them every three seconds, on a low power setting. We didn’t have long before a Roland SAN came after us. Now! Annie ordered. She launched our port Medusa in hunter-killer mode, down the NATO radar beam. He would be hit, even if silent. He emitted and died, data linked to us before impact confirmed a hard-kill. Annie launched our last offensive weapon at another site; this was further and launched two Roland SAMs on our tail. I got us in the weeds, Annie dumped countermeasures and jammed them. Rolling and turning over flat fields at 500 knots was fast but not Mach 3 like a Roland. I checked my fuel on my MFD; time to drop our wing tanks. Jolt as they fell free, our centre one will follow when empty. Speed 550 now, no indication of a hard-kill. Both Rolands go whizzing off our track, ballistic. We got past them! Just one IR missile left, better take no chances. Got our map up on my centre MFD, check with Annie for best course. Fuel is okay but combat must be avoided.
On our encrypted radio something comes through. NATO just went tactical with nukes! Annie swears. This is it – they did it, pushed the button. More orders, Annie patches them to me. In code. I go white. All planes RTB to re-fuel and re-arm with tactical nuclear weapons. No words said, just a code sequence unique to each surviving plane. Target data discs would be given when we landed, our bombs loaded with engine running. Hot refuelling. Annie already gave me the two best ways back. I take the fastest. NATO troops fire small arms at us, red tracer arcs past us, missing. Jinking around trees and low hills we come to base. I send our codeword and slow to land. A fast blur distracts me. No! Annie!
Whiteness.

It Doesn’t Snow In November By Jimmy Boom Semtex link

http://www.lulu.com/shop/jimmy-boom-semtex/it-doesnt-snow-in-november/ebook/product-22049602.html

goth story extract

Tattooed arm is aching. Nigel must have caught it. TV on, sounds down, what CD? Nightwish live, takes me back... put it on repeat. Time to get ready for tonight and gothic metal heaven, Rockworld here we come, yey! What to wear? That black number, long black velvet dress, over the shoulder bare flesh, see my cleavage. My black combat boots, must polish them well, shiny. Pick my silver jewellery, my new pentagram with chain and some rings.., time for another bath, wash Nige away, do my hair, towel it dry, comb it. Naturally blonde dyed black adds, no, makes my stunning Goth looks. Me vain? You are kidding, right? Nearly ready. Pop a beer from my fridge, quick ready meal of chicken and black bean sauce. Make up time, bit of pale blusher, black lipstick, bit of eyeliner, black nail varnish. There, done! Off to the club, get 82 bus, Sarah’s on it. Hi gal, okay? You look great in your purple mini. You too, sis. Hey, your new tat is great! Here, see... new today. The Inkpot? Yes...

IT DOESN’T SNOW IN NOVEMBER

Hell, I slept through my alarm! Goddamn stupid thing. Got to get ready and meet Sarah at the pub for lunch – she’ll kill me if I’m late! She’s got a temper worse than mine but she’s my best mate. Time for a quick bath as I do my breakfast – two toasts. Put a CD on, hmmmm... yes, The Gathering’s Mandylion album. How I love that! Hard to believe ten years have passed since it was released. Still sounds so good. Toast is ready, Marmite – my favourite. I think. My Mother did something right; no one to take the piss now as I munch this, yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!

            My bath’s ready: better not let it overflow, we know the last mess it made. I can be so forgetful... throw my old faded Metallica top on the floor and jump in. Just right! Lots of Rose-scented bubble bath, as sweet as me! Wish Karl were here to scrub my back. Aah, Karl... my fingers slip between my legs to my most secret place. You made me sore last week but how I love to fuck you.

Dressed now in faded “black” jeans, size 6 cherry red docks and my beloved Tristania t-shirt, I look in my full-length mirror – yes, I look good. Their last album Ashes was a stormer, loved them live too. As good as Nightwish but who would I fuck? Tarja or Vibeke? Decisions, decisions...

Stereo off, leave my flat, locking the door, say “Hi” to my neighbour Jason, an old Ted from the 60s. I heard your music again, a new one? Yes, sort of. Look, it’s Tristania, even got the t-shirt! Saw them live too, they’re from Norway. I’ll copy you the CD if you want? Well, lass, not Teddy boy music then? I could tell you some tales... I’ve got to go, another time maybe, Jason. I’m off to the pub to see my friend and have lunch. See you!

Quick walk to town. Just love this late August sun. Oh! That man’s staring at me, he must like me! Give him a quick wave as I turn the corner by the churchyard. Then duck into the pub – there’s Sarah! Hi, how ya doin? Great, me too. What ya having? Usual. Yes, me too. We’ll have these, then order lunch. This is nice lager...

We laugh and joke only as good friends do. Sarah just broke up with Mark but likes Liam but he fancies what’s her name? Sarah may have a girlie fling with Wendy for post break-up blues relief. I don’t know, what’s she like? We order food and a beer, chicken tikka masala for me (I’m the hot one!) and lasagne for Sarah. More small talk, two or three jokes and our meals arrive, are eaten. Another beer, yes, see you again tonight, say hi to Wendy for me.

Feel a bit tipsy now, nice feeling though. Time for a stroll through town. Cant believe TJ’s has Xmas decor up in summer! Usual shops, think I’ll get a blouse at Oxfam. Nice ethnic style, that’ll do. Time for my tat now! Booked in 2 p.m. – Inkpot, Oldham’s finest. Nice dragonfly on my right shoulder to balance out my unicorn on my left. Yes, I’m okay guys, how’s business? A nod. Needle sound – love that so much! Good you’re busy, can’t wait till mine’s done. We only do the best Gemma! I know lads, I’m planning on more. I can show this off tonight at Rockworld. Tat looks great, bit sore but no regrets. Just removed the bandage, give it some air.

What’s the time? 4 p.m.! Time to go to Nigel’s for one of his famous coffees. Hi Nige, how are you? Oh Gem, what a nice tat! Just had it done? Yes, you like it? You should get one. Näh, you know me and needles and blood and pain... Later. Great coffee. Hey, another one? No my love, bed first. He takes my clothes off, kisses me, strips before me. How I love his body! I grab his cock and he plays with me. Onto the sofa, his fingers up me. More kisses, his cock up me. Ten minutes of rampant thrusting wet sex! I cum twice, he once. Another coffee, naked. Dressed and away, great to be fuck buddies, his coffee’s a bonus. He should have a café. Back home, hair all over the place, slight smirk. Will people guess? ?

            Tattooed arm is aching. Nigel must have caught it. TV on, sounds down, what CD? Nightwish live, takes me back... put it on repeat. Time to get ready for tonight and gothic metal heaven, Rockworld here we come, yey! What to wear? That black number, long black velvet dress, over the shoulder bare flesh, see my cleavage. My black combat boots, must polish them well, shiny. Pick my silver jewellery, my new pentagram with chain and some rings.., time for another bath, wash Nige away, do my hair, towel it dry, comb it. Naturally blonde dyed black adds, no, makes my stunning Goth looks. Me vain? You are kidding, right? Nearly ready. Pop a beer from my fridge, quick ready meal of chicken and black bean sauce. Make up time, bit of pale blusher, black lipstick, bit of eyeliner, black nail varnish. There, done! Off to the club, get 82 bus, Sarah’s on it. Hi gal, okay? You look great in your purple mini. You too, sis. Hey, your new tat is great! Here, see... new today. The Inkpot? Yes...

To the pub, Tequila shots followed by £1 Carlsberg bottles. Done it this way forever.., oh, look at the lads there in My Chemical Romance tops. Let’s chat... Four beers and two phone numbers later, to the Salisbury. More lads numbers, two more beers. To the club, free in, we know the owner and I personally know a doorman! Intimately, lol. Straight to the bar, cider to be different (we are Goths). To Nerissa in the Goth room. Skeletal Family, Sisters and Nina, back to the 80s. To the metal room, get a free drink so easy from the lads. Show them how to head bang, my hair everywhere – a black fan... Def Lep, GnR, The Cult and more. To the punk room, shit! Nearly fell over getting pissed. Where’s Sarah gone? There in a corner with a lad, he must be all of 15! Her hand down his leather jeans, their heads moving together in slow circles, tongues deep. I feel left out! I like the blonde girl, like myself when I was 18. What’s your name? Stacey Lee. Hi, I’m Gemma. I like your tattoo. What are you into? I’m a writer. At the moment Gemma I’m at uni doing History, I want to be a lecturer one day. Wow! A babe like me! Brains and body. I kiss her, she doesn’t resist me. She tastes so good! I catch Sarah’s eye. We both wink, fin! Stacey Lee leads me to the toilets; we enter a cubicle and put the seat down. I sit, she sits on me facing me legs open. I take her red dress off and carefully place it on the cistern. Stacey Lee has a great body! Her hand moves under my black velvet dress on my bare flesh, to my cunt. She makes me cum. I take my dress off and place it with hers, together. We fuck, we have promiscuous sex.… Later we dance, we kiss, I get her a drink as thanks, we part.

See Sarah chatting with the lad, she smiles at me and comes over. We hug, kiss once and I tell her what I just did. She smells my hand – Stacey Lee’s smell. She shows me her hand. It glistens. I know what it is...

More beer, more songs in the Goth room. Hell, time to go! Crash at Sarah’s. Get some chips, night bus back. What a day! Must do it all again next week!

JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER - FRAGMENTED WHOLE

JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER - FRAGMENTED WHOLE

   Emma was twenty nine, from Manchester and single. She had a four year old daughter called Kate. Emma was an only child, her mum died of cancer and her dad lived in Sheffield. They’re not very close; he was an absent father. There were only two childhood friends who stuck by each other through a variety of events: first boyfriends, starting work, getting married, having kids and splitting up. All shared experiences. Alison and Lisa were Emma’s friends, knowing one another since Secondary School, aged eleven. Unbroken bonds of friendship, unbreakable?

   They all went on holiday to Spain after leaving school, at sixteen. Getting drunk, chasing guys, being chased in return, met some Spanish lads, were rescued by English teenagers and fled the fight that erupted. The lads fought it out; the girls ran and laughed madly. This holiday brought them closer together and more mad times followed, both good and bad, over the coming years.

   Emma went for her first tattoo with Alison and Lisa when they were all eighteen. Each had a butterfly design, the same but with different colours. Emma’s was blue, Alison’s green and Lisa’s red. Now over a decade later, the tats were a bit faded but still looked cool and got noticed by people who asked what they meant and why all three girls had them. Symbolic in their meaning of a shared bond of friendship, joint experiences, and freedom. When their butterfly tattoos were done, they came from events that happened in each of their lives. Within the space of two years of their holiday, the girls met various boyfriends. They were happy at first.

   Emma met Pete. He was twenty eight, a decade older than her, was a car salesman and appeared a gentleman. His niceness stopped there. Over the three months they were together, Pete used, abused and seduced Emma. Then left. Emma was a mess. Her friends were there for her, wiping away her endless tears and listening to her pour her heart out.

   Alison met Oliver. He was a year older and on the dole. Being a nice guy, she was okay on the fact he was skint all the time. They had a two week romance; he took her pride, a grand in cash and most importantly, her virginity. And was never caught, getting away with it. Alison was Oliver’s doormat. Emma and Lisa were there for her.

   Lisa met Jason, a twenty five year old boxer. He used his skills on her dad after a late night out after her father complained. Jason got the red mist and left the older man in a wheel chair. The six month romance meant nothing to him, nor did his three month stint in jail after the assault trial collapsed. Lisa was terrified to give evidence. The other girls never left her side and supported their scared friend.

   The three girls swore to look after each other and never let a man upset, use or abuse them ever again. They went and got inked, having butterflies on their right shoulders, individual eye catching tattoos. Each picked a colour, their favourite. The tats represented closeness, friendship and femininity, especially in bad situations. They played like butterflies, flitting from bar to bar, from man to man before any got too close, taking what they wanted, always being free. Past lessons were learnt, a lifetime promise of friendship endured. Would it endure a new holiday and all it entailed? They would book it next week and find out.

   Emma reminisced on her youthful times with her mates. Now, they were still young and planned a new holiday back to Spain to remember their earlier times and have a new adventure. Emma attracted all the lads, nice ones and bad ones. Her blond hair and grey eyes captured many hearts, she was a fey lass who was a Tinker Bell and liked to get her way. Being a party person she loved girly get togethers in one of their flats or a night out. Many such nights were in Manchester, involving loud music, smudged lipstick and lots to drink. Especially for Emma, who was single. She paid a baby sitter to watch Kate. Her job as a fashion designer paid for her frivolous life style. On a recent night out, the girls planned their new holiday to Benidorm. Emma had a range of new clothes to take, Lisa a new hairdo to show off and Alison cash from her new job to spend.

***

   In Spain, it was hot. The three girls were on the beach; all wore fetching bikinis and nothing else. Their figures were still trim and very noticeable by the passing guys in swimming trunks. Ignoring these, the girls acted aloof and chatted amongst themselves. Emma whispered, “I do like that blond body builder over by the rocks. You see him?”

   Lisa and Alison glanced to where their friend indicated with her head. Their glance was quick and went unnoticed by the large muscled man. But he noticed their sexy bodies and the promise each scantily clad body held.

   “Very nice. The question is there’s three of us and one of him. Who will have him?” Alison commented, nodding slowly. She risked another glance.

   “Yes indeed. We could all share him,” laughed Lisa, rolling her eyes and smirking.

   Emma stammered a reply, “You what? That’s naughty Lisa. I saw him first, so if anyone should have a choice of him, it should be me. Anyhow, he’s not my type. Too much muscle. He’s probably a himbo.”

   “I think he’s quite sexy, all that toned flesh and who cares if he has the intelligence of a moron,” Lisa replied, “he might be able to go all night!”

   “Yes just imagine that, all night long. Making love seven times, not getting a wink of sleep,” Alison added to the conversation, which was rapidly going downhill. Her face was a look of sheer delight.

   “Right you two, enough of that! We came here to have a break and chill. Yes we can party but enough of that talk, for now. I want to get a tan,” Emma said, silencing the talk. The other girls glanced at the man, to Emma and then out to sea. What were they thinking?

***

   A day later in an exotic Spanish restaurant, the girls were eating a three course meal and were dressed to kill; very sexy looking ladies. The starter had been eaten and they were waiting for the main course. Conversation was light and on a number of topics. Lisa was chatting to Emma when Alison’s attention was drawn to the door. A man walked in. He was instantly recognizable, even in his expensive Armani suit which clung to his body like a second skin, barely hiding his fine physique.

   Crikey! It’s the body builder from the beach. I hope the other girls don’t see him. It’ll be handbags at dawn if they do. I wonder if I can get the man’s room number? I’d love to spend some time with him, thought Alison, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes remained on the man. This wasn’t unnoticed.

   “Alison what are you staring at? Is our conversation boring you?” Lisa commented, looking at her friend.

   Emma stopped talking about music and followed Alison’s stare. It led straight to the muscle man that Emma had originally spotted on the beach. Oh my! He looks fit!

   “It’s him! The muscle man,” Alison said, regaining the use of her voice.

   “He looks a million dollars,” Emma gasped, suddenly feeling light headed.

   “Hands off girls, he’s mine,” Lisa added, nodding in affirmation.

   The damage was done. The body builder spotted the ladies and walked purposely over. In seconds he was with them, towering over the girls. He was a man mountain of muscle and sinew. “Hello ladies. How is your evening? You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” he politely asked.

   Silence descended, each young woman was speechless and spellbound. It was really him, the body builder! He looked even better close up and in a sharp stylish suit. A walking god! If a man could be called beautiful, this one certainly was.

   He dealt with the embarrassing silence by saying, “I’m sorry for interrupting your meal. Maybe I’ll come back another time?”

   “No, no don’t go. Please join us, there’s another seat next to Lisa,” Emma stammered. Was she taking charge of the situation or hoping the man would pick her? It was always about boy meets girl, wasn’t it?

   “Yes, sit here next to me,” Lisa said, moving the empty chair out.

   “Thank you, I think I will then. It’s an honour to meet such nice ladies, it really is,” replied the man, smiling. He sat down in a graceful movement. His size didn’t make him clumsy; it accentuated his poise and style.

   “Nice to meet you. We saw you on the beach the other day,” Lisa said. “I’m Lisa.”

  “Ah yes, when I was doing my exercises. My name is Rudy,” the muscle man said, introducing himself.

   “And I’m Emma and this is Alison,” Emma added, forcing a smile. This is one I can lose. It’s blatantly obvious that Alison and Lisa want to bed Rudy. Just look how Alison looks at him and how close Lisa is sat near him! I must keep cool and not look an idiot. Or he won’t want me.

   “Nice to meet you. I think you all look very nice and lady like. I do approve,” Rudy complimented.  He closely looked at each lady and saw their butterfly tattoos. The girls’ shoulders were all bare on this warm evening. “And what are those? You all have the same tattoos?”

   “Yes, we have the same body art,” replied Emma. She wanted Rudy and tried not to show it.

   “Do you like them?” asked Lisa, only inches away from Rudy. She sensed what he was capable of and could hardly compose herself. Did he know the affect he was having upon the girls?

   “They’re quite unique and it’s different when you all have them and each is a different colour. Yes, I like them very much. What do they mean?” Rudy replied.

   “They mean closeness, friendship, femininity and freedom. We’re all free spirits,” Alison explained. He can have part of my free spirit later, oh yes!

   “No man will ever pin us down or capture us,” Emma said. Was it too late now? Was the cat amongst the pigeons? “We had a number of bad experiences with men some time ago and decided to stick together and never let it happen again. Not with any man.”

   “That’s some reason to have tattoos, it really is. I’ve never heard anything like it. A powerful reason,” Rudy gasped, taken in by the girls’ bond of unity and determination through the years. Did he know that he himself was right now, a very threat to what the girls had agreed to all those years before?

   “Yes, it’s quite different isn’t it?” Lisa commented. “Ah look, here comes the waiter with our main course meal.”

   The young Spanish waiter hurried over carrying three plates full of food. God knew how he didn’t drop them. The conversation stopped while the waiter took the empty plates and glasses and took new drink orders. Rudy asked if he could order a cold beer. It was okay to, Emma nodded.

   “I’m very impressed with you all, thanks for letting me join you,” Rudy said. “Everything about you all is unique and beautiful.”

   “We’re glad you joined us. You have a male beauty all of your own,” Emma whispered. The other two girls were strangely quiet. Were they planning something?

   “Thank you Emma. It’s an honor to join you.”

   The drinks arrived and the four people quietly drank. Each was left with their own thoughts and views on this encounter. Lisa and Alison both read one another’s minds and planned to steal the muscle man from Emma, they knew she liked him very much from the way she avoided their eyes. When would they both act? Would Emma be mad?

   Minutes ticked by and dessert was ordered, along with more drinks. Emma and Rudy chatted amongst themselves, as if the other two girls weren’t there. Lisa and Alison exchanged words now and again. Neither was happy but not showing it. Finally the meal was over and the bill ordered.

   “Let me pay your bill ladies,” Rudy suddenly said. Before anyone could object, especially Emma, he took his bulging leather snakeskin wallet out and took out the cash. With one hand he indicated for the waiter to come over and paid the bill. He left a large tip.

   “Rudy, you didn’t have to pay our bill,” Emma stammered, taken aback.

   “We don’t even know you,” Lisa said.

   “Thanks a lot Rudy,” Alison added.

   “The pleasure is all mine. Thanks for letting me join you and drink with you. I must go now, I’ll see you soon. Of that I’m sure. I’m staying in the Sheridan Hotel, Room 109,” Rudy smoothly replied. He was a really professional player. All of the girls would be calling up to his room.

   “Thanks see you soon,” the girls replied together, as Rudy finished his drink and left the three women. Their eyes never left him till he was out of sight.

***

   Lisa went up to Room 109 to see Rudy, creeping out of her friends' room as they soundly slept. She went up the dark stairway to Rudy's room. Shadows danced over her mousy brown hair and her grey eyes shone with mischief. In her mind she knew what she was doing was wrong; her friends would be hurt but her heart said do it. Lisa climbed the stairs. At Rudy's door, she waited for a minute composing herself. Then she knocked. Seconds ticked slowly by and her heart thudded in her chest. After an age, his door opened. Rudy stood there, before the darkened room, naked. A candle illuminated the scene. How romantic thought Lisa, oh my, he's naked!

   "I knew you would come to me," Rudy whispered, stepping aside to let Lisa enter. He looked longingly at her bare legs under her white t shirt.  

   “Yes, I’m here. Did you think I wouldn’t come?” the young woman said to the alpha male who stood before her.

   He closed the door and stepped toward the girl; she didn’t step back. His arms embraced her and she felt fire course through her body, something making her feel alive. It was her who initiated the kiss. She placed her hand on his neck and drew his face to hers and they kissed.

   She is perfect. Lisa is wonderful, Rudy thought as he held Lisa. His strength was immense but he treated her like a butterfly, for he knew she was delicate even though her kisses were passionate. For ten minutes they stood kissing, eyes closed letting their emotions rule their hearts. Feeling of joy and well being made him reluctant to break their embrace. It was Lisa who did so.

   “To the bed…” was all she said.

   It was six steps to the bed and they took their time. Rudy lifted up and took off Lisa’s t shirt in one swift movement, she didn’t object. It fell to the floor. In the candle light Lisa was stunning, so was Rudy. This was how it was intended all along, from exchanging looks on the beach. The body builder pushed his lady gently down onto the luxurious King Size bed; she was so small under his enormous frame. His cock was erect and it brushed her thigh, her body shuddered.

   “Oh Lisa, you’re perfect,” Rudy whispered, kissing Lisa once on her lips and moving down her face to her neck. Here he lingered for a minute, sending her into dreamy oblivion. Moving lower, he found her breasts and kissed them in turn, sucking her nipples and stroking her breasts. I’m in heaven, nothing can be better than this.

   “My Rudy, you’re perfect. Take me,” replied Lisa, holding his erect member in her hand and guiding it home. She wanted him and she knew he knew it. Moving her body, she guided him home and accommodated his eight inch cock. He thrust deeply into her and she wrapped her legs around his pounding shapely arse, to endure his rapid rhythm. It was obvious he knew what he was doing.

   Groans came from the couple; they were two people in harmony with one another. Each giving something to the other and creating a union they would never forget. Lisa started to cum; her orgasm built up and jolted her body making her move even faster. Her hair was over her face and she screamed and shouted Rudy’s name when he mercilessly made love to the maiden before him. When he shot his load, he moaned and groaned like a man possessed, looking at her through half closed eyes, he struggled for breath while kissing Lisa. For an age their orgasm was a joint thing, created by them. Finally it was over…

***

   Later, Lisa crept back down the stairs to her room. She silently entered and went back to bed totally unaware of Alison watching her and knowing what had happened. After half an hour, Alison rose and went to Rudy to repeat Lisa’s actions. Was this all planned or coincidence? Lisa was soon asleep, tired out by her crazy passionate time with her new lover.

   Alison climbed the stairs and went to Room 109 where Rudy was. She knocked lightly and didn’t wait for a reply, quickly entering and shut the door. Her eyes became accustomed to the candle light and she saw a dark form on the bed; it was Rudy, completely naked. She ran her eyes over his shadowy form and knew he was facing her. Lisa beat me to him but I’ll have my fun with him.

   “Hello young lady. I see you took my invitation and came to join me,” Rudy commented. With one hand he beckoned his guest over. She immediately joined him.

   “I know you made love to my friend Lisa, I saw her return. Now you can have me. Show me how you treat a lady,” Alison replied, running her hand up Rudy’s thigh. His skin was smooth and the muscle firm like steel. They moved closer and kissed.

   Rudy moved his hand up Alison’s silk nightshirt. He felt her body and moaned deeply, his hand finding her breasts.  What an angel.

   “Do it now, do it now Rudy. Make love to me!” she whispered between kisses.

   “Soon my dear, soon.” He held her in his perfectly sculpted arms like an artist holding a unique artwork of infinite value.

   Their kissing was a river of lust, building to a waterfall of love. There was no time here, only two lovers. When they made love, it was slow at first and then frantic like it was the end of the world. Alison cried for the love she had never known, for her heart had never felt like this. What was happening? Was her soul finally healed after years of pain from being broken hearted? Not even her friends knew how much she hurt inside. Only her frail green butterfly tattoo had stopped her from committing suicide.

   “Don’t cry my dear Alison. I’m here for you. Shh, don’t cry my love. No one will hurt you, I’ll protect you,” Rudy consoled her. He kissed her tears and held her close. He felt her body shudder in sadness and stroked her hair, soothing her.

   “I’ve been hurt so many times and no one understands. Now even my friends. All I have known is pain from men in my life, they use and abuse me. You’re the only one I’ve ever told that to,” she quietly said. A single tear ran down her cheek.

   “A woman should never cry. Not over a man. You have an inner strength that few people have. I respect you for that. Don’t be sad Alison; you make me sad because you cry.”

   “You don’t need to be sad for me,” Alison tried to laugh. “I’m a mess inside, it’s as simple as that and I’m not strong. I’m weak and just a boring girl.”

   “I admire you spirit and honesty and beauty. No, you’re not weak. You’re special and beautiful and I love you for who you are. Really, I do,” Rudy commented, kissing her once on the forehead and holding her close.

   “Thank you Rudy.” Alison closed her eyes and dozed, her sadness replaced by happiness and a new belief in herself.

***

   Emma woke in the morning and stretched in her bed. She looked tiredly round their room in the new dawn light and stopped in horror. Alison wasn’t there! She knew right away where she was; in Room 109 with Rudy! Lisa was still asleep and Emma quietly got up and went to confront her friend and her new lover. She was numb and angry. How dare Alison do this! How dare she, she knew I liked Rudy.

   Coming to Room 109, Emma opened the door and peered inside. Two people were in bed asleep. She knew who they were.

   “Hey you two, how dare you do this!” shouted Emma. Tears of rage streamed down her cheeks and the two sleeping forms came rapidly to life, waking up with a start and sitting up in shock. Tired eyes stared at the intruder.

   “Eh? What the hell?” Rudy said.

   “Oh no, Emma...” from Alison.

   “That’s right Alison, its Emma your friend. Or we we’re friends before you did this!”

   “Calm down love, its fine. Don’t get stressed,” the body builder said, placing an arm lazily around Alison. She moved closer to him.

   “Don’t you even talk to me, you himbo! You haven’t got the sense you were born with!” Emma snapped.

   “Emma chill out, we’re having some fun,” Alison commented. The look of betrayal was clear to see.

   “Shut your fucking mouth you bitch! Don’t ever call yourself my friend again, do you hear? I mean it Alison.”

  “Emma, don’t say such things...” the naked girl stammered, realizing what she had done. She looked at Rudy and to Emma.

   “This has gone too far, I want you to leave the room. Now!” Rudy shouted, pointing with his free hand. The other still embraced Alison. It was obvious they were in this together. Emma was the intruder, in the room and in the sense that she hadn’t fucked Rudy, not part of his little club.

   “Before I go, I’ll say this. You two deserve one another. If I ever see you again Rudy I will claw your fucking eyes out and cut your prick off, do you understand? As for you Alison, this friendship of ours is over. You made your choice when you joined lover boy there.” Emma gained strength through her anger and turned to leave the room. She was stopped by a final verbal bullet from Rudy. It was devastating.

   “Give my regards to Lisa. She’s a good lover, different from Alison. Shame I never had you Emma, I’d like to see how you compare to your friends.”

   “Fuck you both...” Emma shouted and left the room. She didn’t close the door.

***

   Lisa was in bed pretending to be asleep. She knew Emma was upstairs at Room 109 and she doubted it was three in a bed, more like a confrontation. This was proven to be correct when Emma stormed into the room and hurriedly grabbed her things. Lisa sat up and watched her friend put on a pair of cut down jeans, her sandals and head for the door.

   “Wait, Emma, please don’t go. Where are you going? Come back,” Lisa cried, red in the face. Her betrayal was obvious.

   “Be quiet!” snapped Emma, picking up her mobile phone, money and passport.

   “I can explain. Listen to me.”

   “Fuck off you whore! You should be up there in Rudy’s bed with Alison. I know what you did, you pair of cunts!”

   “Don’t call me that. It was only some fun. It’s still not too late for you to fuck Rudy. We planned it all out,” Lisa said, crying.

   “You’re even more of a cow than Alison is. I’m flying home alone. Our friendship is over. Don’t try to call me ever again.” Emma left the room and slammed the door.

***

   Emma was aboard Olympic Flight 457 heading back to England. She tried to sleep but couldn’t. In her mind she saw Alison and Rudy in bed together and Lisa doing the same thing, earlier on. My two best friends, conniving against me to fuck some body builder they don’t even know. Both of them knew I liked him and fancied him. How dare they! We can never be friends now, not ever. When I get back home, I’m having my stupid butterfly tattoo removed. It doesn’t mean anything now, except pain and betrayal. Those bitches!

   The silver airliner flew majestically through the clear blue sky at forty one thousand feet. On the weather radar a big cold front was visible, reaching up to forty five thousand feet. The jet couldn’t climb over it; it was at maximum height. The pilot radioed Air Traffic Control and changed course. On a parallel course ten thousand feet higher and invisible to radar or the human eye, a silver flying disc followed the jet. A witch was inside. She had a bad feeling something terrible would happen.

   Yes we had some good times but now it’s time to move on and think of myself for once. I’ll change my number, email and block those two bitches on facebook. If they contact me, I’ll have them done for harassment. Time for a new start. Some good can come out of this, Emma thought, opening her eyes and looking out of the window. She saw huge grey clouds and jagged flashes of lightning. Then felt the turbulence hit, making the twin engine airliner lurch sickeningly. The Fasten Seatbelt sign came on and the pilot made an announcement on bad weather and a change of course.

   Juniper’s Daughter knew the airliner was heading for a storm. The black grey clouds towered up to her altitude. Opening up a vision window, the witch saw the jet slowly turn away from the wall of cloud. It was too late! Lighting reached for the frail metal plane. And found its mark.

   “I must save the airliner from the storm and all aboard,” Juniper’s Daughter commented. She dipped the nose of her disc and arrowed down to the plane.

   “Just brilliant,” Emma muttered. The passenger next to her heard her remark and nodded in agreement. Things became bad. A flash of lighting and a bang shook the whole airframe. A small of burning filled the cabin.

   Suddenly the turbulence became worse and the jet nose dived. Emma checked her lap belt and took a deep breath; her stomach was in free fall. Something was wrong. The airliner was in a dive and not flying level. Was the pilot trying to fly under the storm?

   Juniper’s Daughter was flying a hundred metres above the crippled airliner. She saw lighting repeatedly hit the plane. She energized her laser system to hold it in a tractor beam and guide the jet to safety. When she was just about to lock on it happened. Multiple massive bolts of lighting hit flying disc and a surge of energy smashed into the jet with a billion volts, upending it and sending it off course, upside down. The witch was knocked unconscious and was unable to help. She was in danger of dying herself. Her craft fell to the ocean like an autumn leaf.

   A whine indicated the engines were at full power and the plane vibrated. Luggage storage lockers popped open and bags and duty free bottles fell out, concussing several passengers. A stewardess who was trying to calm the passengers was thrown to the ceiling like a spider in a web. Panic gripped the cabin and the airliner rolled upside down, beginning its death dive into the cold choppy ocean many miles below. Two hundred and sixty seven souls were aboard the Olympic airliner. One was an upset young lady called Emma.

***

   Lisa and Alison stayed in Spain having fun with Rudy. They were certain Emma would come round and forgive them for their little erotic escapade when they got home. Lisa was watching the news in a bar when a news flash came up of an airliner going missing over the Mediterranean. She knew it was Emma’s plane. Sickness filled her entire body and she ran screaming from the bar, looking for Alison.

   Alison was with Rudy in the pool, chilling out and enjoying time together. Both looked up in alarm when Lisa ran towards them. She was hysterical. The couple hadn’t heard of the air crash.

   “Emma’s plane has crashed. She’s dead...”

   “What? What did you say?” Rudy asked, incredulous.

   “Lisa, you’re not making sense. We’ll see Emma next week when we return home,” Alison said. Is Lisa playing a joke on us?

   “She’s dead, God damn you! Her jet went down; it was on the fucking news!” Lisa screamed, weeping and collapsing to the floor. Alison got out of the pool and went to embrace her distraught friend. Rudy athletically climbed out and ran to the bar. He had a word with the waiter, who switched on the satellite TV. Rudy turned up the volume and they all heard the truth:

   “Olympic Flight 457 nose dived into the Mediterranean Sea after flying into a thunderstorm. It is feared all aboard are lost. Wreckage has been found and the search for survivors is continuing. No one has been found alive at the moment. Three bodies have been found...”

   Rudy’s eyes never left the large plasma TV. He started to cry. This was his fault! Oh my God. What have I done? If I hadn’t seduced the two girls, Emma wouldn’t have left for England and she’d still be alive. How can I live with this? What have I done?

   Alison and Lisa wept like children. They were as guilty as Rudy. What had they done?

***

   Two days later three bodies were found at the base of a cliff, smashed apart on jagged rocks and soaked by ocean spray. The broken body of a body builder and two English ladies with butterfly tattoos. A fourth body, with a butterfly tattoo, lay trapped one thousand metres under the Mediterranean Sea, in a crushed and broken airplane. Four young people, three who had endured so much, were together in heaven.

   Juniper’s Daughter was trapped in her damaged flying disc four miles from the airliner on the seabed. The silver flying saucer lay on its side against a seamount, debris littering the immediate area. Exotic alloys were holed and damaged. Internal systems were compromised. Not even the Devil had been able to do this before. Was he behind the thunderstorm? Had he finally won his eternal war of darkness?  The witch’s craft was invisible to sonar and not found by those looking for the jet. For her there would be no rescue. Was the witch dead too?

***