Abby loved her house and her furniture. Her dining room table was her favorite and now it was an accessory to a crime. Of the thousands of hand crafted, Ethan Allen tables that had been used for distributing drugs or making tidy razor formed lines of coke or had marijuana sorted seed from stem, this table was supportive of one of the most creative drug activities possible. On a carefully split open trash bag, taped securely over the top and around the legs of the table, Eddie had set up a limited production facility.

The dark sedan sat on the opposite side of the street of the parking lot of Power Exchange. It wasn’t unusual for people to park a distance away from the club. No one wanted their personalized plates noticed at a place like that. It would have been better for patrons if there had been a nice public parking garage, but there were other bars and businesses in the area, so it hadn’t done much damage to the operations of Power Exchange.

It was early morning and Catherine Anne hadn’t gotten over yesterday’s encounter with the spectral potential client, Catherine Anne needed to reassert her control over her universe. That bitch had set off every alarm in Catherine Anne’s head and she hated being scared. Maybe mental imagining would help. Mental imaging was a therapeutic version of meditation and always helped Catherine Anne when she wasn’t as stable as she needed to be to face the freaks and lunatics who populated her thriving practice.

John Marshall kept his door unlocked when he was in the office. The incident with the blonde hooker had taught him that a locked door made it too easy for people to assume you were being caught with your pants down, especially when they were. That implication had only happened once and no one could prove a damned thing.

Robert had finally begun to feel more like a manager in the club. It wasn’t just that he knew everyone and was a good guy to get along with, but recently he had become the go to guy for Victoria and by extension for everyone else. The club refit had been the thing that defined him as a defacto manager of the day-to-day doings at Power Exchange.

John Marshall was fuming more aggressively than his normal smolder. His office was a showcase of his combative nature. Every spare inch of shelf space was resplendent in the accoutrements of conflict and that calmed him and fueled his rage in the same turn.

Victoria’s rib cage constricted around her lungs as she pushed through the front door of the club. She was instantly assaulted by saw dust, stripped wire casing, and discarded fast food bags littering her club. Even the progress on the rebuild didn’t calm her. It felt like things in her life were really getting out of control and deep in her head she so hated to be out of control. She couldn’t admit it to herself but she had a control freak inside.

Sara had lived in Seattle before and knew that corporate coffee stores in Seattle are more prevalent than homeless people.  Other shops almost tagged along as afterthoughts to the coffee commerce.  Tourists could wander down any major street and buy a single shot of espresso, start drinking the shot at the door and be able to step into another coffee store before they could finish the first shot.  As often as not, following this pattern, a stoic drinker would find the third or forth coffee store down the block would be owned by the same company that provided the first shot.

Robert slid his chair closer to his desk and tried to concentrate on the club’s web page. Not long ago, he had been able to easily cut and paste even the most graphic images and text without the slightest twinge of sexual desire. One of the reasons he had taken this job was that bondage and its assorted sexy sisters had no real interest to him. It was a job and nothing more. Frankly, he would have had a harder time doing a web site for his personal hobby of motorcycles.

Eddie couldn’t be more content that he and Sara both shared a lack of commitment to culinary excellence. A white and red bag of Chic-fil-A, Eddie called it, chicken fries, sat crumpled and tired after the power eating fest the couple had undertaken post sex. It couldn’t get lots better than this, thought the fully sated man. He had even just heard a small burp from Sara, after she had finished a decidedly unladylike sized slug of soda. Sara had actually taken such a large drink, that he had, by habit nearly gotten up to give her a Candy squeeze. While it had been beneficial to let Candy pop off the planet, he had no intention of letting this perfect woman follow the same path. Candy could let the drink kill her, but Eddie would go to the end of the planet to save Sara. The moment of near PTSD awareness shook Eddie to his core. Jesus Christ. He was in love and he loved the thought. He reveled in it, in her beauty, in their near prefect compatibility.

Cars of all types, filled with a few singles, mostly couples and a few brave groups, slowed along Pike street, near Seventh Avenue looking for either parking or assurance that even if they had found the right address, that they were still in the right place.

Babeland, a prominent, high end, sex toy store, had an acclaimed reputation for putting on sex workshops for the experienced as well as the uninitiated. The store took great care to entice those who trolled the streets wondering if they were the kind of people who would attend this type of event.

That tiny seed was fertilized by Eddie’s feeling that everyone could read the existence of his new kinky lifestyle. He could still feel the marks from her whip and other extreme treatments, but more to the point, for today, well, this was the first time he had murdered a man with his own hands and he was sure that somehow that must show as he wandered through a grocery store picking up cereal. He watched Sara read the ingredients of a new type of soup, just like she had done this a hundred times; murder, then soup reading; choke someone; oops too many carbs in the soup. He

A Novel Approach – Intervention the Novel, FIRST DRAFT, please feel free to give me feedback!

It wasn’t right to say Richard had been in love before, he was still in love but now he had been cleaved from her. Richard despaired that he knew what absolute love was for he had lived it and lost it. In moments of pristine clarity he both rejoiced in and mourned that he had been so abjectly and completely in love. He was not foolish; this was not puppy or teen love, but true devoted connection on a completely cellular level. Being lost to it was more agonizing in that he had been doomed by it.

John Marshall sat, infuriated at his over sized desk, in his not so governmentally appointed office. Opulence wasn’t allowed but that didn’t mean that position didn’t have its benefits. For instance, his chair was the same or better than the ones those god damned federal judges sat their judgmental, liberal asses on.

The note had come to Power Exchange from Sara, as she causally typed on her portable computer.  Power Exchange’s web page covered part of her large monitor.  Sara was hoping to catch more of Eddie’s activities and see if he was the type to cheat on her.  Fucking others with permission was entirely different than hunting other lovers and Sara, while open to opportunity and still on the hunt, was very possessive.  She had been imagining and wondering how far Eddie would go to please her if she gave him everything he ever wanted when Sara felt a tingle in her head.  On the web site for Power Exchange Victoria’s picture opened.  Sara stared and concentrated until it finally came to her.  A wide smile grew on her face and she said to the picture, “Hey beautiful, I know you.”

Robert and Victoria sat in his office.  The desk was covered in paperwork and computer systems hummed in the back ground as Victoria spun lazy circles on an office chair.  Robert typed and clicked on the system.    
 
He glanced over at Victoria and said, “I’ll have the web page functional in the next day or [...]

John Marshall sat on a bench on the waterfront of Seattle’s Pike Place Market.  He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t pissed.  Even when he had something that worked out his way, John could easily find a reason to gravitate towards hostility.  It was such an effective way to manage the fucking idiots who [...]

Eddie thought it was cool how big tits could look on a large screen TV.  It didn’t hurt that it was a plasma television.  They looked better than real.  Perfect D cups turned into G cups.   God they were monstrous and you could see every jiggle and goose bump on hard pointing nipples.  The chick [...]

Parking around the Power Exchange club was tighter than usual even though this was a Saturday night party.  The club had been running full tilt for at least an hour and Victoria was late.  
 
Members kept their eyes on the big blue neon sign "MEMBERS ONLY".  It was time for the scheduled release of the [...]

Eddie had to ask around plenty to find a busy attorney who wouldn’t have much time for him and this guy fit the bill perfectly.  The office had one other lawyer even though the name on the door said, Johnson and Associates; the receptionist’s desk was piled with files, and the guy behind the desk [...]

Clump. Clump. Clump. He could hear her shoes, always those goddamned shoes.

The lights in Victoria Duncan’s apartment flickered as the tempestuous storm slashed across the sound…

The first moments of her return to Seattle were Sara Cage’s worst, at least until the murder. After what had happened the last time she had been in the Emerald City, she’d had her doubts about venturing back. But, Seattle felt like her destiny, like she had left something important undone.