Musing Past The Future

ROMANCE IS ALL IN A NAME...- "RACK EM" BY A.H. SCOTT

2012-02-24T07:57:00.004-08:00

Manon loved Giacomo with all her heart. She sacrificed her treasures to get him out of prison. Seems like just another couple. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, he is known more famously by his last name - Casanova......

With a little luck, romance touches the heart....

Excerpt -

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

- End of Excerpt

For what Manon and Casanova shared in the past, a modern day couple are attracted in a melange of romance, adventure & danger..

Come on the journey in A.H. Scott's international thriller, "Rack Em".

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK...

Eirelander Publishing Presents A Novel By Author A.H. Scott

What do you hold most dear? Pride or treasure?

Something, which is searched high and low for, could have always existed within us all.

Liquidator in fine fabric is woven amongst the glittering class of international buyers and sellers of collectible oddities.

Any ability to afford anything money can purchase, gives a certain power that keeps them in a heightened state of eternal inebriation.

That unseen suspect is right in front of everyone's eyes, but not known until it's too late.

Bobbles of bliss from two fated lovers of centuries earlier bring together varied egos into the life of a Vancouver antiques dealer. Price paid by some for these treasures, would be higher than the heavens.

Necessity makes many things necessary. In the end, all which may seem only business will forever be tied to the personal.

A woman and a man, who were strangers and adversaries in this arena, become bound in each other's arms and hearts.

Exposure of motive and murderer brings forth a climactic conclusion on the rooftop of a Vancouver location.

"Rack Em" is a contemporary romance with hints of mystery and thrills woven throughout it's pages. A.H. Scott invites you into the world of diamond lives and crimson lies. I give you, "Rack Em".

Captivating treasures from centuries prior has led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed, the ball of the unknown is tossed across the billiard table of hidden agendas.

Take a scintillating excursion into the arena of international auctions, with sellers and buyers who trade trinkets, winks and nefarious agendas from around the globe.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior have led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed are just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

Become acquainted with the characters of "Rack Em":

Arlington Cross - Vancouver antiques dealer and owner of Cross Collectibles and recipient of a package from the deceased elder female in France. He is a man under the faulty impression that making a move from the United States to Canada would make his life more simplistic. Little could Arlington Cross ever imagine how complex an antique auction would be.
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Pao Tse-Ling - Chief of acquisitions for a Chinese antique house. Sent has been on a journey to Canada for a simple purchase during an upcoming auction at Cross Collectibles. Not just any items would bring this female across the world to North America. These are treasures that Tse-Ling and her employer have been quite interested in for many years. Little did she think any danger would exist at a humble location in Vancouver.
-----------------------
Jaqueline Niemann – Elegant woman of French charm, who has seen her share of fluctuating history. Prized package sent to a Vancouver dealer of antiques, is her final act of altruism. The treasure all have sought flows from her dainty fingertips.
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Maxtina Sammprino – bold blonde from Italy, who enjoys the chase and capture of precious fare from days gone by. She is a woman with a thirst for fulfillment, which goes beyond marble boardrooms of the international jet set. Spicy and sassy, Sammprino takes the bull of chauvinism by the horns.
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Turina Karrelli– Italian purchaser of arousing artifacts from around the world. Brunette on a tracking mission of priceless goods has always been fond of caring for the wounded. This includes her fellow Italian associate. Cunning and curvaceous Karrelli has ability to accentuate her assets to gain a positive result.
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Freiderich Rothsberger– Art collector and dealer from Austria, who thinks the best years of his negotiating the big purchase, is winding to the end of success’ road. Chubby cheeks and a hearty laugh of this man have been used as the ultimate mask of constantly being brushed off by opponents.
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Anzo Ninzionni – Purchaser of varied collectibles from around the world, has an eye out for the ladies and something beyond platinum. His journey has taken him from solitude into an arena of being in the company of lust and financial flourish. Bidding on those gilded goods would be a moment that could take him from anonymity onto a higher plateau of notoriety.
-----------------------

Isaac Moss – Peacock without apology is who this man is. Shining star of an African corporation has his sights set on a timeless trinket of temptation. Fine clothes, finer women, are this arrogant achiever's hallmark accomplishing his set goals.

RACK EM DESCRIPTION -

Murder in a small French village of a grand dame of collectibles, leads to the doorstep of a Vancouver auction house. A harried, antiques dealer is the man under an added level of pressure, with prospective buyers from around the globe clawing for the heralded goods at an upcoming auction.

Pair of bodacious Italian belles and a woman of gentle grace from China proved to be something extra this unsusupecting man in Vancouver. As for their male counterparts from Austria, Spain and South Africa, they had a harder task at hand.

Each had been given their marching orders to a victorious capture of those items, no matter what it took to get their financially flushed fingers on them.

Curled lash and perfumed flesh seemed to have more entrees into this antique dealer's life, than smoking a stogie with a member of the same sex.

Seduction's game is about to break.

Question is; can a man fight temptation or join in?

Only one move is left to make. Sexy voice whispers into an awaiting eager ear, "Rack Em".

Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" from my publishher, Eirelander Publishing ( Eirelander Publishing - Rack Em ) and also the following:

ALLROMANCE EBOOKS - AllRomance - Rack Em

ONEPLACEFORROMANCE - Rack Em - 1 Place For Romance

AMAZON KINDLE - "Rack Em" - KINDLE

BARNES & NOBLE NOOK - "Rack Em" - NOOK

View the book traler for A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" on YouTube - ( "Rack Em" - The Trailer)

Recapture Romance..;)
A.H. Scott

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THE QUOTABLE A.H. SCOTT FEBRUARY 22, 2012

2012-02-22T10:54:00.000-08:00

The Quotable A.H. Scott:
February 22, 2012

"The strangest thing happened to me. I looked in the mirror and a new person was standing before me. She had my looks (for whatever good or ill they may be). Yet, something was new about this woman I see. She accepted the tender tidings from near and far. Her brain had a complexity of beauty, which some could see. Maybe I finally found the miracle of me. Or, was it my twin?" - A.H. Scott

"If neither raise their voices, both will be mute of mind, body & soul. Raise HIM up! Raise HER up! Raise HUMANITY up! And, if the 'they" in society wants to call you a bitch, then wear it with the pride of a lioness on the hunt to annihilate anything (or anyone) in their path. Those who won't want your opinion are probably too afraid to know exactly what you think about them anyway..;)" - A.H. Scott

‎"A spark can keep a candle flickering in the dark. A spark can set the sun ablaze with the rising temps of Death Valley in a wicked haze. A spark can burn the fingers of carelessness. Cells scorched from listless limbo of sunrise to sunset.. A spark is seen as a bright star across the midnight sky of an eclipse of a universal kiss. Burn, baby burn and sweat becomes a waterfall's cascade within your mind. The flame warms the imagination and stirs a dormant soul, which now is mine". - A.H. Scott

"A pure heart can never be broken. It may be wounded by events beyond it's control. Or, pierced with sorrow and tears in the darkness of departures over the years. But, it's strength is solidified by a core knowledge of oneself". - A.H. Scott

"When a line of people tell you that you are worthless, never let the last person on that line of haters be yourself. Pat yourself on the back, even if you strain your shoulder when doing it. You already have worth, because your living proves all the haters wrong. Standing with the wind in your back is the golden coin of joy tossed in the eyes of the envious and small-minded haters that slither about. That priceless heart is balanced on the head of heaven's scale, in the ways you treat your fellow man, woman, and creatures big and small. You are worthy of happiness. You are worthy of peace. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of all the little things in life that people may ignore. Like hearing the laughter of children playing. Or, even getting a breathtaking glimpse at a rainbow after a rainstorm. Even the sound of an ice cream truck jangling down the street outside of your home. You are WORTHY. Believe you me". - A.H. Scott

"There is a thin line between esteem and arrogance. It's called a tightrope. Arrogance is an asphyxiant to the polarity of esteem's ethereal essence. Never let that ego boost become a noose". - A.H. Scott

"The key is within us all. We might not always see it in the palm of our hands. But, it is there; if only you look close enough. Crumbs turn into our daily bread. A single brick transforms into a sturdy wall. And, that person who didn't want to shake your hand a day ago, is now the one who places a supportive arm around your shoulder. Life is a bounty" - A.H. Scott

"Whatever the cards of fate will allow, will be what comes to your doorstep. Besides, if it passes you by, the wheel of fortune might just come round once again at a later date in your life. It might just be the person that will put a smile upon your sad soul and hollow heart". - A.H. Scott

(February 22, 2012)
A.H. Scott
Peace

Roll With A.H. Scott !!

2012-02-22T10:37:00.001-08:00

Roll Across The Rainbow With Me....

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"Over My Head" - A Wife Steps Into The Wolf's Den by A.H. Scott

2012-02-21T11:50:00.000-08:00

Angela thinks she can handle
anything that comes along in life.
Yet, she was about to be put to
that test by Nicholas Bell.

Devotion comes with a price....
.....Angela will know the
ups & downs of paying the piper

Lawrence Chase owed a debt. His wife, Angela, took a gamble. Pity for both, that losing a few dollars would be nothing compared to higher stakes in their marriage.

What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling a secret from the past.

Go "Over My Head" with A.H. Scott!

Looking at a portrait of a man and wife, the fractures of a marriage aren't easily seen. Smile and supportive caress hide the barren wasteland of a relationship.

They were a happy couple once. With fresh air and laughter. Chuckles fade. Gone is the optimism of youthful exuberance.

Blissful petals have withered on the vine of time

Symbol of an affair is permanently erased.

A wife, who has acted upon her own desires, has taken a carefree step into a world she never expected would come at the end of fate's rainbow.

She is a woman who exists amongst four joined stages of life's square. Exploration is the first angle. Love comes as the second turn of degrees. Passion takes third angle. Obligation is that fourth angle of completing the cube of this female's world.

Lace cradles creamy flesh. Yet, warts of a soul's disfigurement can never be truly obscured.

A husband's secret is the cornerstone of events, which lead to triumph and tragedy in a shortest span of time.

Veiled agendas beneath soft kisses are bitter in daylight's exposure, as intrusions of many forms take several by surprise.

Man of varied lies and devilish alibis has snaked his way into the lives of this couple. Certain word of support or smile of comfort had the effect of making all the difference in gaining entry into another's life.

Before either knows it, they are submerged in something beyond their control.

For what was a frivolous flirtation, became a shower of a heart's hidden obsession onto a floor of doom's dance.

It leads to that moment of culmination's wondering by this wandering wife to staying afloat in a marriage's rickety vessel of distress or forever being "Over My Head".

Eau Claire society had never been plagued with such a scandal.

An affair that had begun under less than pleasant circumstances, unraveled into a hazy sunset of sorrow for Angela, Nicholas and Lawrence.

The Chases' marriage had a ribbon of secrets and lies that each held closed to the other. Lawrence's lies led Angela to harbor secrets of her own to him.

In some ways, actions by her husband propelled this dutiful wife into the arms of another man.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

"OVER MY HEAD" DESCRIPTION :

Lies and secrets are like molecules of fat. They always rise to the surface.

In the swirling stew of seduction, two persons draw a wife into a web of corruption and condemnation. First of which is her husband, who harbors a secret that she has found out about. Secondly, a man whose intentions towards her have been well known for many years.

Her husband's secret is bound to a lie that the an acquaintance uses to his own benefit. This wife decides to take a gamble of her own, which leads to places that unseen consequences roam.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion.

Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father.

Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also.

Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began widdling away at this woman's self esteem.

Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission.

Events in the lives of the Chases could have taken such a different road, if only a husband told his wife the entire truth about a secret he'd been holding.

Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion.

Desire can take us to places that the heart can never capture. A simple hand out to a stranger can be all that a lonely person could ever need. Even if it were from someone you never thought would be a part of your life. In this tale of crimson conclusions and titillation's triumph, only a single notion of being submerged in an ocean of delights is whispered into a longing soul's ear.

Shall my world remain one of mendacity or should I go, "Over My Head".

"Over My Head" has a few twists amongst the pages, that will leave the reader wondering how did A.H. Scott make the pea vanish from beneath that obvious shell.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

That's "Over My Head". Submerge Yourself Into Seduction's Sea.

And, with that, A.H. Scott offers you an introduction to the players in her novel, "Over My Head":

OVER MY HEAD CHARACTERS:

Angela Carter Chase -
(Heiress and Lawrence Chase's wife)

Angela Carter had been given the world on a silver platter by her tycoon father, Arthur Carter. Even with that, this feisty woman was now a wife to an accountant, Lawrence Chase.

Even with that life that seemed very serene, Angela wanted more. In this case, more came in the unlikely form of a quite titillating restauratuer and businessman named Nicholas Bell.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

------------

Lawrence Chase
Accountant and Angela's husband

Lawrence Chase may not have been what Eau Claire society may have expected to be married to Angela Carter. Yet, he made his own luck in love's field. Being an accountant at Arthur Carter's business, Lawrence enjoyed the benefits of being married to the boss' daughter.

Chase may have been lucky in love, but when it came to other high stakes games, Larry was a loser. And, the person who sat in the catbird's seat of having this tender plum of information would be the last person Lawrence Chase could trust.

-------------

Edward Longfellow -
(Lawyer and Carter family friend)

Edward Longfellow knew the law inside and out. But, his greatest asset was an ability to read people. This came from his varied clients in Eau Claire and other locations throughout Wisconsin.

Being a longtime legal counsel and friend to industrialist Arthur Carter, Edward became privy to many aspects of the Carter family goings on.

Having known Angela since she was born, Edward had been a quite protective force in her life. Certain secrets between this lawyer and young heiress would be quite catastrophic for both of their reputations, if anything were ever disclosed.

Angela Chase confided many things to Edward, which neither Arthur or Lawrence would ever know.

--------------

Nicholas Bell -
(Businessman and Angela's lover)

Nicholas Bell was owner of a local nightspot (The Eight Ball) for many years, when he met Angela Carter. As she became Angela Chase, now restauratuer (Tulip) Bell remained a quite captivated man by this woman from afar.

Bell climbed the social ladder in Eau Claire, from the lower rungs up towards the top of that structure. Arthur Carter's nod of approval for his restaurant, proved the tide of acceptability in a higher social circle was turning in Nicholas' favor.

From a young age, Nicholas learned the best way to get ahead was to sit back and observe. And, then pounce on whatever weakness your opponent may have.

Thus, whenever he'd gotten a chance, this smart man would use information his own benefit. Be it in the form of a digits' ascendency or cradling of perfumed skin.

Timing was everything and Bell took full advantage of that fateful factor.

-----------------

Arthur Carter -
(Tycoon and Angela's father)

Some businessman try to pretend to be something that they are not. This was not the case for a mid-Western industrialist. Arthur Carter was an arrogant man. That is a statement of fact. He never tried to runaway from who he was or how he amassed his vast fortune.

Steel was the ticket to Arthur's fortune. And, it also was the will he had to make his business a success in Wisconsin.

This was something that he'd passed down to his daughter, Angela. She'd thrived under that armor of his arrogance to her own detriment at the moment.

Arthur Carter was always fair in business. But, no one would ever be shocked if he had taken an invisible razor from his tailored suit pocket in the boardroom.

Money became a sheilding column of bricks to the real world. But, there always were fissures in that seemingly solid wall that the rich built around themselves.

----------------------

Gennaro Esposito -
(NB Auto Repair manager and Bell's friend)

Primarily, Gennaro Esposito was a longtime friend of Nicholas Bell. Manager of Bell's auto repair business, Esposito enjoyed similar interests of pleasure as Nicholas.

Gennaro shared many a secret with his socially ascending friend in Eau Claire.

-----------

Iris Mendoza -
(The Cat's Paw Tattoo Parlor owner and Bell's friend)

Secondly, Iris Mendoza was also a friend to Nicholas Bell. Owner of a local tattoo parlor, Iris and Bell shared many a laugh and drink together.

Mendoza may have seemed like an unlikely ally to Bell. But, each of them knew the power of association.

-------------

Archie Hamilton -
(Bartender at The Eight Ball & Part-Time Tulip Restaurant manager)

Archie Hamilton was a man who knew all the key players in this drama. From a previous position working for Arthur Carter, to the present day employment at two of Nicholas Bell's businesses, Archie Hamilton had a faint finger on the pulse of the main characters in this novel.

Working as a bartender at that nightspot and a part-time manager at the swanky restaurant, Archie didn't have much free time to dream of a better life for himself and his family.

Yet, this man of multiple obligations did just that.

-----------------------------------

Madeline Hamilton -
(Physical therapist and Archie Hamilton's wife)

Physical therapist Madeline Hamilton worked at the local hospital. Wife to Archie and mother of two young sons, Madeline had a quite pleasant existence in Eau Claire.

Madeline's world was her family. And, even with any flaws that were behind closed doors, she would do anything to protect and love her husband, Archie.

The Hamilton's marriage may not have been sparkling. But, they were a union of stability with their two sons.

--------------------------------

Julius Baxter -
(Wisconsin court Judge)

Julius Baxter was an Eau Claire County Judge that had played a part in the lives of three of the other main characters. He knew the Carter family and Edward Longfellow had stood before him at the judicial bar.

Restraint was never truly Julius' strong point. And, one of the other characters in this juicy novel feels the brunt of his ever increasing ego.

Judge Baxter was an ambitious man, as time would prove him to rise to the head of Wisconsin's Supreme Court.

---------------------------

Ann Marshall Baxter -
(Socialite and Julius' wife)

Ann Marshall Baxter was not only the wife of Judge Julius Baxter, but thrived as a socialite in Wisconsin society. Ann wasn't a wife who bit her tongue in criticizing a spouse.

In fact, it may have been Ann's ballbusting of Julius that prompted the rise of this mid-level judge on the Eau Claire County circuit.

Ann knew that behind her powerful husband, remained a woman of charm and elegance, who wasn't above twisting a few arms in maintaining their place on that platinum peak of society.

---------------------------

Darlene Morrissey -
(Tulip restaurant waitress)

Darlene Morrissey had known Angela Carter in their years at the local Catholic high school together. Morrissey hadn't the fortune to have a rich father provide for a smooth existence for her, such as Angela had.

From Darlene's point of view towards Angela, envy smoldered within this woman who saw her own dreams of a better life doused by choices she made in years past.

So, she became a waitress at a local, high end restaurant.

Looking at them on the surface, both women were as different as a crepe and poundcake. Alas, scrape away the fluffy finery of a father's wealth and the world would realize both women were equal halves of a whole.

Beneath Angela's silk and Darlene's polyester, both had many things in common. This included a layered relationship with Nicholas Bell.

Explore the world of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head' in this extended excerpt:

EXCERPT DESCRIPTION -

Angela Chase was an heiress who seemed to have the world on a string. Nicholas Bell held the scissors of destruction to the lives of both she and her husband, Lawrence.

For those who think they are the cream of society's crop, there are always bottom feeders who worm their way up.

Nicholas cradled the marker of Lawrence Chase in his palm and had an inkling that Angela would come into his life once again....

EXCERPT -

Chapter

Angela and Nicholas didn't travel in the same social circles in Eau Claire. Yet, over the years, each had been cordial in many a public event. Maybe being a charming woman to every person she'd met, would give her a leg up in assisting Lawrence's debt to becoming just an unpleasant memory.

Parking down the street, a few quickened steps would bring Angie face to face with the person who held Larry's marker in the palm of his hand.

As if some things never changed, that flashy red spider was once again parked outside of the Eight Ball on July 21st.

Motioning inside, Chase gazed to the right and saw the booth that she'd sat at with those weeks before her eighteenth birthday. To Angela's left, an unattended bar had a trio of paper coasters strewn about it.

Marty Balin's milky voice washed over an entering Angela Carter Chase, as she walked towards that bar. On a jukebox to her right, "Count On Me" played moderately in this almost empty establishment. Jefferson Airplane's melody filled that July afternoon's air. For this motivated wife, Angela quite aptly understood meaning of those lyrics. Larry could always count on Angie.

Slightly bending neck and head over the bar's edge, Angela spoke with familiarity, "Archie? Is that you?"

Archie Hamilton placed several inventory slips down on an empty crate and looked around to see where that light voice came from. Quite taken aback at Angela Carter's presence in this location, he moderately uttered, "Angela Carter? What are you doing here?"

Turning hesitation to a happy smile, Hamilton added, "You haven't been in these parts in a long time. It's good to see you again".

Relieved to see this acquaintance, Angela returned a subtle smile, "You too, Archie. It's good to see a friendly face".

Standing upright, he grasped the papers and put them onto that bar counter, "So, can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, I'm not here for that", Angela was determined to get through this unpleasant task rapidly, as brown eyes gazed towards a pool table area in back, "Is Nicholas here?"

"Nick?", carelessly shrugging at hearing the reason why this female was there, Archie calmly conveyed Bell's whereabouts, "Sure, he's in the back".

Slim form in white dress cautiously moved near the billiard tables and smiled back at this mellow barkeep, "Thank you, Archie".

"Listen, Angela", calling out to her, he smiled, "I could have him come out here and talk to you", walking out from behind that bar, Hamilton could sense a glimmer of discomfort in this brunette's hesitation to be in Nicholas Bell's establishment, "It would be no problem".

"Thanks for your kindness", nibbling bottom lip, Angela started to walk away, "I've got this situation in control".

"Angela?"

"Yes, Archie", flipping head and hair to face him, this woman replied.

"Take it easy, okay", Hamilton smiled.

"I will", woman on a mission motioned to the back of the Eight Ball.

White pumps tapped against green tiles, as she saw Gennaro Esposito and two other men playing a game of pool with Nicholas Bell.

As Nick has his back to an approaching Angela fifteen feet away, Espo nodded head to get him to turn around. The holder of that large debt would see for himself what the Rabbit's Foot had dragged in. A white pearl from shoe to dress stood in an arena of ash and dim lighting.

Lawrence Chase's losing streak in an unlicensed Fairwater casino had led his wife to this unlikely place. Fabric of lightest color revealed more about the lady who wore that dress.

She was queen of diamonds in a deck of destiny that he'd frittered away. In a high stakes game of a husband's multiple hands of poor choices, Angela held onto the wildest card of all.

Nicholas Bell's life of varied fortune had proceeded with an abundant arrival of Angela Carter Chase.

Dressed in black tee and pants, Nick slowly twisted himself around, "Right on time", softly whispering to Espo.

"An hourglass, my friend", Esposito sighed at the sight of such beauty in their midst, while moving towards those other two men.

Butterfly of mixed emotions that fluttered in her throat were swallowed and confidence emerged from Angela's soft lips, while stationed on one side of that pool table, "Hello, Nicholas".

A false air of being surprised at her sight filled Nick's voice, as he spoke to this woman in white, "Angela, it's good to see you again".

"Gee, that's what Archie just said to me", Chase felt a bit of gallows's humor would break the ice of this awkward moment of being reintroduced to him, "Can we talk?"

"Surely", Nick rested pool stick against table and grinned at her, "We can sit over in one of the booths", pointing towards that almost empty bar area.

Angela was pleased at his offer, but declined, "I'd like to speak with you in private".

"Private?", Bell was puzzled with Chase's request to be alone with him. Yet, he knew exactly why that conversation would need to be without an audience, "No one will bother us when we sit down to talk", slyly winking over at a trusted friend, who knew what was actually going on, "Isn't that right, Gennaro?"

Adorned in white, silk shirt and tan pants, this male had the appearance of a tropical toreador. Putting away pool stick in rack, he looked like a cool coconut cocktail to her.

Gennaro Esposito had known Angela from being acquainted with her at various public events, "Oh, yeah", giving a smile to this attractive visitor, Espo rolled out the welcome mat to their unfiltered world, "Hello, Angela You look like a blue cloud of joy".

"Hi, Gennaro", polite to a fault, Arthur Carter's daughter smiled back, "Thanks for the compliment", returning to the point of this visit in the first place, "Please, Nick. I really need to talk to you, alone".

"Hey, how can I resist a request from such a lovely lady", nodding head in direction of Esposito, he added, "Hold all my calls, Espo", holding right hand outward to Angela, this male in his 30's pointed towards a back office, "We can talk in my office".

Angela Carter Chase slowly sauntered down a small hallway that led to Bell's office, as he followed behind her in the mode of a wolf salivating at a juicy mouse. Nicholas turned head and winked back at a stationary, smiling Gennaro Esposito.

As this woman entered that office, Nick closed the door behind her, "Please, have a seat, Angela".

"I think I'll stand", calmly replying to Bell's offer.

"It's your decision", smiling at her, he sat down behind his desk, "Well, how cliché it would be of me to ask", slightly snickering in a quizzical tone, "But, what brings you by?"

Angela pulled a few loosened strands of hair behind her ear, as she took a deep breath, "I think you know why I'm here, Nicholas".

"Angela, Angela", with glint of cheer in his voice, he cleaned teeth minutely, "You remember all my friends call me Nick", remembering their meeting years prior.

"Okay", uttering a modest sigh, she relented, "Nick, you do know why I'm here", fidgeting fingers began tapping against white purse, "My husband".

"Maybe you should spell it out for me, Mrs. Chase", letting Angela feel a quick sting of hearing herself as the spouse of an unlucky gambler.

Wife in white wardrobe placed her cards of purpose onto Nick Bell's desk, "I'm here to talk to you about Lawrence's debt".

Brows arched in response, "Ah, so I guess your husband can't handle this himself?", unable to avoid chuckling at this vision of loveliness taking on a responsibility of paying Larry's losses off.

"That's not funny, Nick", taking a small inhalation of courage, Angela turned rigid in place.

Seeing this female's frigid air about her, Bell used a few words of accommodation, "Have a seat, Angela".

"I'm fine standing", not wanting to chitchat with this male of dubious demeanor, Chase stood still.

"Sit down, Angie", with a statement of ordering his visitor to recline into a chair, Nick smiled at Angie in a mixture of smoothness and rocky resolution, "This is going to be done under my terms", placing palm out in a motion for her to relax, he let this female know exactly who she was dealing with, "And, definitely not yours".

Arthur Carter's daughter had the air of a profitable lineage, which Nicholas Bell hadn't been in contact with in many a year. Members of Eau Claire's society would not look down the Eight Ball's owner again.

Slowly her body rested into a chair, "Okay, so now I'm sitting here", giving this male compliance.

"You see, Angela", glad of the way she heeded that insistence of descending action, Nick grinned with sense of relief, "Everyone can comply when they want to".

- END OF EXCERPT

Behind the doors of the wealthy, there's always something stirring...;)

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"Over My Head" - (EROTICA) Angela Is All Grown Up - by A.H. Scott

2012-02-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

Two Chapters
From
A.H. Scott's
Contemporary
Romance
Has
Twists
&
Turns

Take a dance with Temptation..;)

Lawrence Chase owed a debt. His wife, Angela, took a gamble. Pity for both, that losing a few dollars would be nothing compared to higher stakes in their marriage.

What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling a secret from the past.

Go "Over My Head" with A.H. Scott!

Looking at a portrait of a man and wife, the fractures of a marriage aren't easily seen. Smile and supportive caress hide the barren wasteland of a relationship.

They were a happy couple once. With fresh air and laughter. Chuckles fade. Gone is the optimism of youthful exuberance.

Blissful petals have withered on the vine of time

Symbol of an affair is permanently erased.

A wife, who has acted upon her own desires, has taken a carefree step into a world she never expected would come at the end of fate's rainbow.

She is a woman who exists amongst four joined stages of life's square. Exploration is the first angle. Love comes as the second turn of degrees. Passion takes third angle. Obligation is that fourth angle of completing the cube of this female's world.

Lace cradles creamy flesh. Yet, warts of a soul's disfigurement can never be truly obscured.

A husband's secret is the cornerstone of events, which lead to triumph and tragedy in a shortest span of time.

Veiled agendas beneath soft kisses are bitter in daylight's exposure, as intrusions of many forms take several by surprise.

Man of varied lies and devilish alibis has snaked his way into the lives of this couple. Certain word of support or smile of comfort had the effect of making all the difference in gaining entry into another's life.

Before either knows it, they are submerged in something beyond their control.

For what was a frivolous flirtation, became a shower of a heart's hidden obsession onto a floor of doom's dance.

It leads to that moment of culmination's wondering by this wandering wife to staying afloat in a marriage's rickety vessel of distress or forever being "Over My Head".

Eau Claire society had never been plagued with such a scandal.

An affair that had begun under less than pleasant circumstances, unraveled into a hazy sunset of sorrow for Angela, Nicholas and Lawrence.

The Chases' marriage had a ribbon of secrets and lies that each held closed to the other. Lawrence's lies led Angela to harbor secrets of her own to him.

In some ways, actions by her husband propelled this dutiful wife into the arms of another man.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

"OVER MY HEAD" DESCRIPTION :

Lies and secrets are like molecules of fat. They always rise to the surface.

In the swirling stew of seduction, two persons draw a wife into a web of corruption and condemnation. First of which is her husband, who harbors a secret that she has found out about. Secondly, a man whose intentions towards her have been well known for many years.

Her husband's secret is bound to a lie that the an acquaintance uses to his own benefit. This wife decides to take a gamble of her own, which leads to places that unseen consequences roam.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion.

Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father.

Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also.

Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began widdling away at this woman's self esteem.

Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission.

Events in the lives of the Chases could have taken such a different road, if only a husband told his wife the entire truth about a secret he'd been holding.

Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion.

Desire can take us to places that the heart can never capture. A simple hand out to a stranger can be all that a lonely person could ever need. Even if it were from someone you never thought would be a part of your life. In this tale of crimson conclusions and titillation's triumph, only a single notion of being submerged in an ocean of delights is whispered into a longing soul's ear.

Shall my world remain one of mendacity or should I go, "Over My Head".

"Over My Head" has a few twists amongst the pages, that will leave the reader wondering how did A.H. Scott make the pea vanish from beneath that obvious shell.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

That's "Over My Head". Submerge Yourself Into Seduction's Sea.

And, with that, A.H. Scott offers you an introduction to the players in her novel, "Over My Head":

OVER MY HEAD CHARACTERS:

Angela Carter Chase -
(Heiress and Lawrence Chase's wife)

Angela Carter had been given the world on a silver platter by her tycoon father, Arthur Carter. Even with that, this feisty woman was now a wife to an accountant, Lawrence Chase.

Even with that life that seemed very serene, Angela wanted more. In this case, more came in the unlikely form of a quite titillating restauratuer and businessman named Nicholas Bell.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

------------

Lawrence Chase
Accountant and Angela's husband

Lawrence Chase may not have been what Eau Claire society may have expected to be married to Angela Carter. Yet, he made his own luck in love's field. Being an accountant at Arthur Carter's business, Lawrence enjoyed the benefits of being married to the boss' daughter.

Chase may have been lucky in love, but when it came to other high stakes games, Larry was a loser. And, the person who sat in the catbird's seat of having this tender plum of information would be the last person Lawrence Chase could trust.

-------------

Edward Longfellow -
(Lawyer and Carter family friend)

Edward Longfellow knew the law inside and out. But, his greatest asset was an ability to read people. This came from his varied clients in Eau Claire and other locations throughout Wisconsin.

Being a longtime legal counsel and friend to industrialist Arthur Carter, Edward became privy to many aspects of the Carter family goings on.

Having known Angela since she was born, Edward had been a quite protective force in her life. Certain secrets between this lawyer and young heiress would be quite catastrophic for both of their reputations, if anything were ever disclosed.

Angela Chase confided many things to Edward, which neither Arthur or Lawrence would ever know.

--------------

Nicholas Bell -
(Businessman and Angela's lover)

Nicholas Bell was owner of a local nightspot (The Eight Ball) for many years, when he met Angela Carter. As she became Angela Chase, now restauratuer (Tulip) Bell remained a quite captivated man by this woman from afar.

Bell climbed the social ladder in Eau Claire, from the lower rungs up towards the top of that structure. Arthur Carter's nod of approval for his restaurant, proved the tide of acceptability in a higher social circle was turning in Nicholas' favor.

From a young age, Nicholas learned the best way to get ahead was to sit back and observe. And, then pounce on whatever weakness your opponent may have.

Thus, whenever he'd gotten a chance, this smart man would use information his own benefit. Be it in the form of a digits' ascendency or cradling of perfumed skin.

Timing was everything and Bell took full advantage of that fateful factor.

-----------------

Arthur Carter -
(Tycoon and Angela's father)

Some businessman try to pretend to be something that they are not. This was not the case for a mid-Western industrialist. Arthur Carter was an arrogant man. That is a statement of fact. He never tried to runaway from who he was or how he amassed his vast fortune.

Steel was the ticket to Arthur's fortune. And, it also was the will he had to make his business a success in Wisconsin.

This was something that he'd passed down to his daughter, Angela. She'd thrived under that armor of his arrogance to her own detriment at the moment.

Arthur Carter was always fair in business. But, no one would ever be shocked if he had taken an invisible razor from his tailored suit pocket in the boardroom.

Money became a sheilding column of bricks to the real world. But, there always were fissures in that seemingly solid wall that the rich built around themselves.

----------------------

Gennaro Esposito -
(NB Auto Repair manager and Bell's friend)

Primarily, Gennaro Esposito was a longtime friend of Nicholas Bell. Manager of Bell's auto repair business, Esposito enjoyed similar interests of pleasure as Nicholas.

Gennaro shared many a secret with his socially ascending friend in Eau Claire.

-----------

Iris Mendoza -
(The Cat's Paw Tattoo Parlor owner and Bell's friend)

Secondly, Iris Mendoza was also a friend to Nicholas Bell. Owner of a local tattoo parlor, Iris and Bell shared many a laugh and drink together.

Mendoza may have seemed like an unlikely ally to Bell. But, each of them knew the power of association.

-------------

Archie Hamilton -
(Bartender at The Eight Ball & Part-Time Tulip Restaurant manager)

Archie Hamilton was a man who knew all the key players in this drama. From a previous position working for Arthur Carter, to the present day employment at two of Nicholas Bell's businesses, Archie Hamilton had a faint finger on the pulse of the main characters in this novel.

Working as a bartender at that nightspot and a part-time manager at the swanky restaurant, Archie didn't have much free time to dream of a better life for himself and his family.

Yet, this man of multiple obligations did just that.

-----------------------------------

Madeline Hamilton -
(Physical therapist and Archie Hamilton's wife)

Physical therapist Madeline Hamilton worked at the local hospital. Wife to Archie and mother of two young sons, Madeline had a quite pleasant existence in Eau Claire.

Madeline's world was her family. And, even with any flaws that were behind closed doors, she would do anything to protect and love her husband, Archie.

The Hamilton's marriage may not have been sparkling. But, they were a union of stability with their two sons.

--------------------------------

Julius Baxter -
(Wisconsin court Judge)

Julius Baxter was an Eau Claire County Judge that had played a part in the lives of three of the other main characters. He knew the Carter family and Edward Longfellow had stood before him at the judicial bar.

Restraint was never truly Julius' strong point. And, one of the other characters in this juicy novel feels the brunt of his ever increasing ego.

Judge Baxter was an ambitious man, as time would prove him to rise to the head of Wisconsin's Supreme Court.

---------------------------

Ann Marshall Baxter -
(Socialite and Julius' wife)

Ann Marshall Baxter was not only the wife of Judge Julius Baxter, but thrived as a socialite in Wisconsin society. Ann wasn't a wife who bit her tongue in criticizing a spouse.

In fact, it may have been Ann's ballbusting of Julius that prompted the rise of this mid-level judge on the Eau Claire County circuit.

Ann knew that behind her powerful husband, remained a woman of charm and elegance, who wasn't above twisting a few arms in maintaining their place on that platinum peak of society.

---------------------------

Darlene Morrissey -
(Tulip restaurant waitress)

Darlene Morrissey had known Angela Carter in their years at the local Catholic high school together. Morrissey hadn't the fortune to have a rich father provide for a smooth existence for her, such as Angela had.

From Darlene's point of view towards Angela, envy smoldered within this woman who saw her own dreams of a better life doused by choices she made in years past.

So, she became a waitress at a local, high end restaurant.

Looking at them on the surface, both women were as different as a crepe and poundcake. Alas, scrape away the fluffy finery of a father's wealth and the world would realize both women were equal halves of a whole.

Beneath Angela's silk and Darlene's polyester, both had many things in common. This included a layered relationship with Nicholas Bell.

Explore the world of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head' in this extended excerpt:

EXCERPT -

Extended TWO Chapter Segment

Chapter

A year after Angela Carter's court-ordered, community service ended in July 1971, an unexpected admirer let himself be known. At Eau-Claire Country Club, an annual charity fundraiser for the local children's hospital was underway on a July day.

Arthur Carter, Edward Longfellow and several others, were golfing for a good cause. Alas, it would be Angela that would be proposed a hole in one, during this event.

Being noticed by a man in a way other than just parental seemed to be a welcoming experience for this free spirited female in her twenties.

Edward Longfellow stood closely behind an orange adorned Angela, at the fifteenth hole. Unlike all the other times he'd given this young woman advice, an aroused whisper flowed into Angela's ear, "I have a present for you, Angela".

Angela had known how a man speaks to a woman he wanted to be with. This time, those words came from Edward's lips. Capable of getting a man aroused, the flattery of being desired filled this 22 year-old woman with glee.

Supportively rubbing her extending shoulders, Angela responded as such, to Longfellow's not so platonic intentions, "Eddie, I can come by your place around nine tonight, okay", swinging golf club briskly. Sleeveless orange dress slightly rose, as those bare arms motioned upward.

As she concluded, an attentive Edward swung his club and smiled at this receptive rose, "Perfect".

Attorney Edward Longfellow had just made a pass at the daughter of a longtime friend, who was standing within twenty feet of them. Carter Manufacturing Corporation's legal counsel might be swimming in that shallow end of employment's ocean, if this proposal of passion were known by anyone.

By the 18th hole in July 1972, a flirtatious Angie had gotten Eddie's attention with a few flicks of curled hair. After pictures were taken for the local newspaper, Carter and his daughter returned to his estate. They both had an early supper at 6:45.

Telling Arthur that she'd be visiting a girlfriend in Madison later that evening, Angela drove to Edward's home a little bit before nine.

When Longfellow married Wanda Kelly over three years ago, Edward thought it was a union that would last. Thus, when Wanda filed for divorce, a woman who'd seen the riches of being a defense attorney's wife leaving her a quite wealthy former spouse took this skillful attorney to the cleaners.

Ink on the divorce papers dried two weeks before Edward made an explosive decision of changing the aspects of a prior relationship with another member of the opposite sex.

What made for a messy divorce, was a wife who knew all of her husband's secrets in business and bed.

Not being a defender of the virginal, it was obvious that several of Mr. Longfellow's highly paying clients wanted to find the jail door opened at the end of their court cases. Knowing the law and massaging it, were something Edward was quite accomplished at doing over his career.

As for what went on behind closed doors of the Longfellow household, that was grist for Kelly's greedy mill. A husband's fantasies and desires with her, were twisted to the point of taking marital experimentation towards the fringes of something macabre.

Wanda Kelly loaded that shotgun of exposure and pointed it squarely at Edward's withered pride. He backed down, turned tail and gave a bitter wife what she wanted. In this case, it was a sizable chunk of this male's hide.

Parking down the street from Edward's home, Angela pulled a tan raincoat tightly closed with a belt. Beneath it, were a blue skirt with a slit and evergreen silk blouse. Her blue pumps softly tapped along the concrete in the alley behind his home.

Two persons lives were about to change forever.

An open sliding glass door was Carter's entry into the partially lit first floor. Taking off that raincoat, she tossed it onto a white easy chair. Looking around the living room for the home's owner, Angela heard a familiar sound.

Eddie's voice traveled downstairs, "Angela, open the box on the downstairs sofa. It's my present to you".

Making her way over to a blue floral sofa, a hatbox sized lilac colored box with red bow was positioned. Pulling that ribbon loose from this box, Angela opened this container of the unknown. Those manicured hands pulled out a garment of bright red. A note which accompanied it, asked for that item to be placed onto its reader.

Unsure of what the night would hold from this interesting point, Angela walked into a bathroom and disrobed completely. What Edward had left for his guest to wear when going upstairs to the master bedroom, was a red, vinyl corset.

With all the bells and whistles to tempt a man with, it had silver zipper at its crotch. Angela's bare breasts were covered with tiny silver buckles and zippers. This stretchy plastic would be a sight to behold for her mate of this evening.

Not knowing what Edward wanted from her, she pulled hair back into a ponytail. She opted to take off those blue shoes and place them next to a small clump of clothing on a hamper in his downstairs bathroom.

Climbing the blue-carpeted stairs, her feet made no noise at all. Located at the end of a hallway, a master bedroom door. Twisting the doorknob, Angela found an interesting visual with it's opening.

Edward Longfellow laying on a king size bed wore only black silk shorts. Situated on a burgundy comforter, this male gazed at his approaching guest, "Over on the nightstand, there are four ropes. I want you to place them on me, Angela".

Ponytail started to sway, as Angela began to shrug at his request, "Eddie? I don't know".

"Angela, you do trust me, don't you?", trying to reassure her that everything he wanted to be done was desired by Edward.

"Of course, I trust you, Eddie", tiny chuckle flowed from her lips, as she looked over at the nightstand.

"Angela, let your hair down, also", pleased with the sight before him, he wanted to see that hair flow downward.

Rolling rubber band off of clasped hair, Angela shook waves of curls free against her shoulders, "Like this, Uncle Eddie?"

As each hair fell lower, Edward's tongue passed through his lips, "My God, you are a stunning sight, Angie".

"Thank you", relishing the attention this man was giving her, Angela softly shook that mane around those milky shoulders. Her breasts were tightly stuffed into that crimson corset, and moved as she took each breath. Edward watched her with a horny hankering.

"Flashbulbs would lick your flesh with fire", Longfellow's dexterous dialogue filled the air, "Angela, photographs could never do justice to that body of yours"

"You know how to make me melt, Uncle Eddie", cheeks slightly blushed, gazing at those ropes and listening to the male lavish such words of devotion to her.

"Place one each on my legs. Tie them around the bedpost", Edward held his right foot towards the edge of that large bed, while placing a hand onto the dark wooden post, "Then, I want you to tie my hands, also".

Angela began to slowly pull one of those red ropes from the black nightstand into her hands. That right foot was contained with a moderately tightened knot, "Like this?"

"Yes, Angela. That's very good", training this adorned angel in the art of rope work, Edward led the way.

Left foot was held in place with Angela's thigh against his ankle. As she secured this limb, Edward began to motion a toe against her soft skin, "Eddie, that tickles".

"It does for me, too", feeling that object twisting his foot into place, an eager Edward murmured a wish, "Continue, sweet, sweet Angela".

Walking over to the right side of the bed, Angela's hip was touched by Longfellow's mobile arm. Third rope was tied to its post quickly. Returning to contain the final limb of this male, Angela needed to hear his approval on what she was doing, "Eddie, are you sure about this?"

As that question came from those slick lips, there was only a nod that expressed what he felt towards this female's actions. Edward Longfellow was before her, with a mountain beneath those silk shorts. And, tender young Angela Carter enjoying that erotic power over this male.

The man looking at her was different than the person she'd known since early childhood. Pigtailed girl Edward had known transformed into swan of dulcet delight. Person who lay on that bed with yearning in those eyes, came to be a male that expressed interest in the beautiful woman Angela had become.

"Is this what you want, Eddie?", shyly holding arms behind her back Angela squeezed fingers tightly together. As she did so, those pink nipples began to peek out of their vinyl container. Unprepared for what was expected of her in that brightly lit bedroom, Carter began to shiver.

"You know, Angie. Better than you realize", Longfellow's lips moved, as eyes took in the full package of feminine presence in that master bedroom. That corset clung to every curve of soft skin, as Angela smiled.

He knew he wouldn't be the first man that she'd been with. But, Edward did want to make this night a memorable one.

Still reeling from what she wearing in this man's bedroom, Carter exhaled lightly, "I can't believe I'm trussed up for you", taking in the image of an always in control Longfellow being constrained by her hand, "And, you roped up for me".

"Believe it, beautiful. Just looking at you in that, is more than the wettest dream I've ever had about you, baby", letting known his building lust for her, Edward swallowed a lump of arousal in throat.

"Yeah", playfully squeezing Edward's big, right toe, Angela slightly grilled him, "How long have you wanted me, Uncle Eddie?"

Calling him Uncle Eddie ever since she was under ten years old, Angela knew their relationship would be taking a trip out of life's previous stratosphere. Although not related by blood, Longfellow had been a friend of Arthur Carter for over three decades. In some ways, Angie's referral to him as Uncle could heighten the events that were about to take place.

"When you came home from graduating college, I saw a woman", inhaling a whiff of lavender fragrance on Angela's skin, Edward gently sighed, "A fully formed woman. Who could make any man melt for her".

"Does my father know?", flicking index finger against that big toe, Angie spoke like a crafty kitty, "That you wanna fuck his little girl?"

"Angela, you're not anyone's little girl", Edward felt a tinge of nervousness over the tone of that questioning, as a glimmer of her telling Arthur could be possible, "This is between us".

Letting that big toe go gently, she smiled down at this excited male, "That's good. I wouldn't want to disappoint him, if he found out what I'm up to".

What was about to take place in Edward Longfellow's master bedroom was between only two beings, he and Angela Carter.

Wiggling body slowly, he gazed up at her, "You could never disappoint anyone, sweet Angie".

"Did you and Wanda ever do it like this?", touching vinyl with fingers, Angela brought up the name of Edward's former wife, Wanda Kelly.

"Sometimes, when we were naughty", grinning at the thought of his escapades with his ex-wife.

"So, do you consider me naughty", taking a lock of brown hair and twisting it with left index finger, Angela began to enjoy this coming game of longing with him.

"Hmm", Edward's smile broadened, "Looking at how well you wear that, you seem as comfortable in that corset", his teeth glistened, while thinking of her undergarments, "As you are in a pair of those tight lace panties you wear".

Hearing him say that, Angela knew he'd been scoping her out with keen eyes. She also realized this garment fit her flesh quite well. Tight cinched waist and nipples almost popping out, this must have been what Edward wanted from her many a moment. His choice of size, was right on target for temptation, "You notice that, huh?"

"I notice what makes me happy. And, you definitely do that, Angie", Longfellow moaned moderately, longing for her to take the lead in that vinyl.

"Have you ever jerked off thinking about me, Uncle Eddie?"

"Angela", admonishing this alluring lass, with the deftness of a highly paid attorney that Edward was, "You never ask a man a question like that".

Holding head to one side, she couldn't resist finding out his past private actions, due to her, "I was just curious, that's all".

Still reeling from Angela's previous question, Eddie began to shrug at this inquisitive ingenue, "About what?"

"I just want to know what you do when you think about me", wondering out loud, as her hip began brushing against Edward's foot again, "Have you ever?"

"In the past couple of months", Edward relinquished the veil to her, "I have, Angela", honesty rolled from an enticed tongue, "Last time, when you came by the office. I was doing some work in the legal department. You didn't see me, but I definitely saw you", inhaling, as he thought about Angela's jiggling walk, "I had to go to the restroom and jerk off".

Blushing slightly at this information, Angie giggled and batted her eyelashes at him, "I can't believe that I've affected you like that, Edward".

"If you haven't noticed already, Angela. You have", looking up at this vision of milky loveliness, Edward Longfellow used events that were about to take place, as a raunchy preview, "I'm here tied up and my cock so hard for you, baby".

"That's nice", Angela's right thumb gently outlined that bulge under black silk, "I get you hard, Uncle Eddie?"

"Without a doubt", thinking of that smooth flesh being touched by his eager hands.

Putting thumb to mouth, Angela began wiggling it in front of Eddie's face, "Do you like me to suck your cock, Uncle Eddie?"

"Angela, your lips would be like angel's wings, taking me to eruption", darting tongue to that thumb, Eddie wished it were his cock in her mouth, right then and there.

Feeling moist between those her legs, Angela began to bathe in the adulation of having a hungry Edward, "Why didn't you tell me earlier, Eddie?"

Wrists dangled under red ropes, as Eddie tried to explain himself to Angie, "I thought you'd give me the cold shoulder, honey".

Red vinyl almost causing her tits to pop out, Angie stood over him, "Well, I'm here now. Does it look like I'd give you a cold shoulder, now, Uncle Eddie?", prepared to be that red siren of siren to fulfill this stiffening male's dream.

Curly locks flowed around Angie's shoulders, as he noticed every movement of that sexy body. Raven haired ravisher in his bedroom, washed over Edward, "Anything but that, Angela".

"Uh, hmm", Angela gave this tied tiger a glimpse of what he'd be getting very soon. Unzipping that vinyl crotch, she revealed a soft brown bush, "So, do you like, Eddie?"

Seeing that exposed pubic hair, his dream of delights in between those golden thighs would be coming to full bloom soon. Frustrated and fired up, Eddie tugged hands against those confining ropes, "Yes, oh yes".

As she climbed onto that bed, he could see the parting of that vinyl apparel at an unzipped crotch. Longfellow licked tense lips, longing for those plush contents to be filled with his mounting pole.

"My pussy is almost at the point of dripping", coldness of an opened steel zipper began to cause a glimmer of friction between Angela's thighs and southern lips, "Do you like that?"

"Yes, Angela", knowing that pussy will be filled with his hardening cock, Edward's fantasy about her was coming true, "It pleases me".

Bouncing onto the edge of that bed, Angie reached into those black silk shorts and pulled his cock out, "So, um, you are very affected by me, huh, Uncle Eddie?"

"More than you'll ever know", touch of her soft hands, sent Eddie onto a plain of erotic realization. She would be his within moments.

Angie began to giggle, "If I untied you, what would you do to me, huh?", from the looks of his member, she could guess what Eddie's answer would be.

"I'd fuck you 'til that red vinyl melts off you", all four restraints were tugged to release himself, as the thrill of being in her midst was getting to Eddie.

"Well, I guess they'll stay", Angela began jerking his cock to the left and right, realizing her touches were driving him wild with titillation, "I can feel just how hard you're getting".

Expressive honor spilled from Edward's lips, as stray strands of Angela's hair dangled against her filled mouth, "Keep on doing what you're doing, sweetheart".

"Don't tell me what to do", releasing his pride from her touch, Carter felt a rush of power in the moment, "Tonight, I tell you what to do, Mr. Longfellow", as if that costume's meaning were taking over her gentle demeanor, Angie took control.

"I'm at your control, lovely", Longfellow softly sputtered, as he felt a building brook inside of himself.

"You promise", taking cock into her mouth, Angela began to lick its juicy tip, "Just between us?"

Feeling his flesh getting such tender care, Edward became a man barely able to speak, "Uh-huh".

Enough sucking of a man was done, as Angela let his ascending member go. With a single hand, she placed him inside of her awaiting folds. Already wet, her snatch motioned downward on him. Gasping gently, Angie realized just how big Eddie actually was. That sizable penis extended itself inside of a grinding pussy. Snarling, as she rode him, "You're really enjoying this snatch, ain't you, Eddie?"

"Damn yeah!", Eddie's body moved in constant motion with this sexy brunette on top of him, as that red vinyl clung to every inch of her, "I want you to undo those and show me your tits, baby".

"And, what then, hmm?", giggling at him, Angie teased Eddie a bit more, "You dress me up and almost suffocate them", licking lips slowly, "And, now you wanna see these juicy tits of mine".

Silver buckles undone, Angela pulled both zippers open for Edward to see her contained mammaries. They bounced like balloons, as she continued to move around. Making biting gestures with snapping teeth, his animalistic lust raged towards this female, "I'd love to nibble on your nipples, honey".

"Maybe, if you're a good boy, Eddie", slightly grinding downward on him, Angela moved breasts within inches of his lips and teeth; "I'll let you".

That red vinyl glistened under an overhead ceiling light in that bedroom, as he moaned with ecstasy. Angie gave into his hungry demand, as Eddie began to lick those pink nipples and gnaw on them. Angela's breasts were not huge knockers, but they could fill many a man's mouth.

Angela's comely measurements were 36c cups of pillowy petals with 24-inch waist and wonderful hips of 28, for a lucky man to grip. And, eager Eddie held that enviable ace on a July evening.

"Ooh, Eddie, you feel good inside of me", hair shook about her cheeks, as that bolt and screw action began to boil within Angela's fantasy of fulfillment, "Your balls are banging against my ass, every time I come down on you, Eddie" ,making a circling movement on top of him, "You're gonna make me come soon, baby".

Swirling tongue around those blushed breasts, joy came in relief, and "Your pussy is heavenly It's so warm and open for me".

"You love my nipples, Eddie?", feeling this man suckling at her breast, like a defenseless babe in the night, Angie gently sighed, "I bet you wish you could pop your jizz all over them, when you jerk off, huh, Ed?"

"Yes", Edward Longfellow lay tied to a bedpost with mouth to breast and cock into dripping snatch, what more could a man want or need, "They're so soft and supple".

"You love my pussy, Eddie?", bouncing hard on him once again, she wanted him to respond to her, "It's so wet and pink".

"Yes", barely audible, he felt consumed in the sensuality of sweet Angela.

Lifting spine upward, Angela gazed down at the man moving inside of her, "Remember, I'm the one that made you feel like this, Eddie", licking lips, she filled that bedroom with a purring, "I'm going to make you explode all over me and these sheets".

"Do it, baby", grappling with the thought of being brought to orgasm by Angela, he moaned.

As Angie pulled his throbbing cock out of her dripping snatch, she pivoted backwards between those red roped legs. Holding Eddie with her left hand, she gave it several long licks. She could taste him and her, all at once, "My slit and your cock. How good a mix is that, huh, baby?"

"Keep doing it, baby", exhaling, "I'm almost there".

"Mmm", working lips along that stiff shaft, Angela surprised him once more. She would prove herself as being the woman worthy of catching Edward's roving eye.

Feeling a tightening pull on his penis, Eddie almost exploded right then, "Angie, honey, what are you doing?"

"Giving you full service, honey", grasping harder on hardening flesh, Angela began to suck on those unattended balls. She may have been young, but she had many an unspoken trick up her sleeves.

"Shit, girl!', letting out a yelp, as that sensual sensation of having his scrotum serviced by Angela began driving him up a wall, "Where did you learn how to suck cock, you sweet thing?", making a fist with both tied hands, he wished to break free and ravish her, "My balls! Oh, my balls!"

Letting go of him completely, Angela partially pouted and whispered with a hint of dejection in his response, "You don't like it, Uncle Eddie?"

"Angie, I love it", praying this luscious lady would bring him to orgasm, "My cock's on fire, because of you", Eddie insisted, "Keep on sucking those balls, baby", still pulling at those red ropes against wrists, "Get me off".

"Mmm, that sounds better, Eddie", recapturing this man in hand, that mouth murmured, "Do you know what I'm feeling, right now?"

Reacting to each motion of Angela's hand, Edward's arousal remained high, "No, sugar. Tell me".

"I've got my right hand working myself over", digits twirled inside of Angela's wet slit, starting to soar, "And, I'm about to come too. You made me so wet, when you were inside of me", breathing heavily at the tingling that she was feeling within, while starting to inquire, "Does that turn you on, Eddie?"

"Girl, you know it does", Edward's eager eyes darted from both busy hands, as she held him in one and played with herself with the other, "Tell me how you feel, Angie?"

"My pussy's dripping all over your bed, Ed", gently working right hand in between hairy lips, "You like the fact that I came all over your sheets, Uncle Eddie?", Angie continued to kneel with Eddie in left hand, "You might have to burn this comforter and sheets, too".

A definitive statement came from this stiff litigator's tense mouth, "Never!", watching Angela masturbate in front of him, would be a vision burnished in Edward's soul, "I'll keep them as a memento of our evening of exploration

Removing right hand from within, Angela revealed a trio of dripping fingers as evidence of clitoral culmination. With left hand still full of Edward's almost bursting cock, his shaft was continuously stroked, "Oh, so will you remember this night, Edward?"

Tongue wagged to taste those fingers, as an ever-mobile Longfellow lavished, "Forever, Angela".

"Good boy", trio dangled into Eddie's parched mouth, as Angie had completed her task for that evening. She'd masturbated herself to climax, in the presence of a roped male about to shoot his load.

Angela Carter would have never fathomed something so wickedly divine.

Seconds passed, until that burgundy comforter, red satin sheets and Angela's left calf got a full stream of Edward's overflow.

Eddie's ejaculation was Angie's treat, for she is the being that brought him to climax. This woman earned every droplet of this man's juices on her flesh.

As Eddie panted and writhed to break free, Angela slowly stood and undid both legs. Onward to his hands, she wanted to maintain those ties.

Kissing him on the lips once, her hair lightly brushed a bare chest, "Eddie, did you enjoy me?"

"Set me free, Angie", hands began to fight the tension of those ropes, as Eddie desired a second round of erotic target practice, "And, I'll show you".

"Ooh, I can see", those brown eyes gazed at that stream of liquid on his sheets, knowing Eddie wouldn't control himself if she let him go, "That's why I'm going to loosen them, until I'm almost ready to leave".

Starting to speak to this young woman as a man in position of elder respectability, a stern Edward motioned hands one more time, "Angela, don't play".

Angela began rubbing hand to his cheek, "That was a fun game, Eddie", kissing him again, "By the looks of it, you might not be up for a second helping of me". "Try me, you hot slice", his legs moved towards this standing female, trying to get closer to her.

"Nasty boy", unzipping that red corset, Angie held the loosened vinyl around her, "I'll leave this in the box on the sofa".

"Angela, please", his voice fell to almost a whimper, remaining aroused with her being.

"Please what, Edward?", Angie stepped out of that corset and walked over towards his still stiff cock in the nude. Without warning, she smacked it once, "Sit on my cock? Sit on my face? What, hmm?"

Edward's cock and balls went to the right, while gently bobbing up and down. Shock was on his face, but heavenly ecstasy filled this man's body.

She knew at that point, this would really take him to the edge of another explosion. But, with what had been given her to wear, Angela knew that dominatrix' gear would have to be matched with some disciplinary actions.

Trying to move away from her touch, Edward wiggled around that bed, "Come on, stop it", his erection continued for several minutes more.

"Okay, I'll be a good girl for you", relenting to this pleading man, Carter untied the left hand and quickly retreated from his grasp, "Now, you get out of that other one, all by yourself".

Walking naked out of that bedroom and into that downstairs bathroom, Angela tossed that corset onto the floor. Blue skirt and evergreen blouse were placed back on her. With blue pumps and raincoat put on, Angela was almost ready to leave.

Picking up red vinyl garment, she walked towards that sofa and placed it into the box. Thinking of what just happened upstairs, she smiled to herself. As Angela turned to exit his home, Edward kissed her.

"That was fun, Eddie", pulling raincoat closed, she looked at a man that just brought her to a slippery finish.

"You are everything I could have ever hoped you to be", inhaling the vision of beauty that stood there, a grin of bliss came to Edward's lips.

"Hmm", Angie's eyes were pleased to see his cock remained stiff after her exit from their den of decadence upstairs, "I'm glad I could make your night perk up, Eddie".

Kissing Angela on the left cheek, praise was openly lavished on this fascinating female in his home, "You are a walking dream".

"Dreams are nice", reminiscing the pleasures she'd just experienced in Eddie's bed were beyond her own dark daydreams of being with any man, "But, reality is surely better".

"I never knew you were so wild, Angie", reflecting on that scenario of erotic chaos that just occurred upstairs, Eddie knew she was beyond being that demure daughter of a trusted friend, "You're definitely not the little girl I've known all these years".

"I have my secrets, Eddie", being a woman who wasn't going to fuck and tell, Angela scribbled another male name in her life's book of life's amorous adventures, "And, now you're also one".

"It must be a nice club to join", even at this moment of standing there with an erect penis, Edward remained quite content in being a man who'd partaken of Angie's impressive assets, "To be with you, Angela

Running an index finger down his chest, "I'm glad I could fulfill your fantasy, Eddie", Angie let out a giggle, "It was nice", she pulled that door open, "I feel like I've just cracked into the majors", proud to have survived a tango on the dark side.

"Triple A doesn't have a damn thing on you, Angie", standing nude behind that door, Edward complimented this queen of quiet conquest, "You are definitely in a higher league".

"Maybe in the future, I could come up to your office and sit on that fat cock of yours", teasing this male with further sexual escapades, "Would you like that, Uncle Eddie?"

Standing in a state of arousal, Edward sputtered, "Oh, a lot, Angela", another suggestion of how he could contain such erotic moments, "You give a man many ideas, Angie".

Those silky hands slowly pressed together, as Angela took another rope of desire in turning him on, "Or, maybe you could take some pictures of me, to have as a reminder of tonight?", completely comfortable at having this man burn up flashbulbs, "From what we've just done, you know I'd let you, Uncle Eddie?'

Eagerly, Eddie panted, "What type of pics, Angie?"

"In that red vinyl", anticipating his desire for that costume to be her first image through any lens, Angie realized his interest was peaked and tempted Edward once more, "Or, maybe me with my legs spread, nice and wide for you".

Eddie Longfellow's chestnut hair stood on end, thinking of a sexually adventurous Angela in many types of poses for him, "Sounds interesting".

"What would make it even better", sucking the tip of her tongue between teeth, Angela was pleased at her bedmate's receptive attitude, "Would be for you to have them laminated", throwing Edward another curve ball of titillation, "So, when you jerk off on my image, you'll be able to keep the picture for another go round on that the jacking off express".

Impressed by this female's grasp of his libidinous intentions towards her, Eddie began grinning from ear to ear, "Little Angie, able to read my mind".

"Speaking of that", taking a deep breath, Angela Carter broached a subject that could never be spoken before Edward Longfellow's calling her name, "Does that get you even harder now, when I call you Uncle Eddie?"

"To have you bouncing up and down my knee, my cock, or my face", as a man whose flesh was taken to a point of erotic explosion a few moments earlier, Eddie licked his lips for her, "Is more than my nastiest desire of you, Angie".

"As for calling me, Uncle Eddie", not taking that question in a vulgar way, his true feelings were added to, "I love the reverence you give me, Angela, when you call me that".

"Even when I'm sucking your cock or riding you?", starting to laugh at the thought of what they were talking about in his home, Angela almost wanted to contain her squeamishness.

Letting Angela off the hook for feeling uncertain about bringing this subject to the forefront, Edward diplomatically smiled at this fascinating female and smacked lip together, "Especially then, Angela".

Wrapping arms around her, their lips met with warm extraction of feelings. Admiring Edward in his position of authority was easy. Gazing down at him beneath her, was fun for Angela. Brushing brown curls with a strong left hand, Eddie reveled in the rapture, which Angie brought him to.

"Night, Uncle Eddie", waving farewell to him, Angie's footsteps broke the silent night. She'd seen another side of him. It was one, which couldn't be forgotten.

What Angela always called Edward, was one of mutual respect over the years. Not based on blood ties or even familial responsibility.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart", closing that door behind her slowly, Edward knew Angela might have trouble attaining that closed nature. She was an open blossom of womanly delights to him.

Angela had always looked up to Edward. Being Carter family friend and attorney, she saw him as a kind and caring human being. But, it was now Eddie turn to find a new appreciation for Angie.

22 year-old Angela may have lost a father figure this July night. But, she did gain an aroused friend in Edward Longfellow in 1972.

Chapter

Edward Longfellow's interest in Angela had been stoked by her reactions to his salacious suggestions. One of which came to fruition during a visit he'd made to Arthur Carter's home in April 1975.

An excuse for why he was in the home came to be a business meeting later that afternoon with Arthur. Although punctuality was something Carter appreciated, he would have never fathomed the real reason Edward remained beyond prompt for their appointments.

Walking up the carpeted staircase, Longfellow made his way towards a second floor bedroom. Turning the locked door open, he saw the now 25 year-old Angie changing in the midst of changing from a drab green business suit.

"Oh, my", turning around and seeing him, as she held that dress around herself, Angela gasped and began to chuckle, "What are you doing here, Uncle Eddie?"

"Don't stop what you're doing, Angela", holding that door open, Edward licked his lips, "Looks lovely from here"

"Close the door behind you", putting dress onto a wicker chair, Angela wondered, "How did you know I'd be home alone?"

Edward approached this feathery vision, "I saw you when you left the office a while ago"

"And, what reason will you give my father for you being here, hmm?", placing hands onto hips, Angie felt a bit exasperated at how she would explain Eddie being in that home.

"I've got a good reason to be here, baby", greeting Angela with a peck on the cheek, "I've got a business meeting with him", giving the reason for him being there, Edward pushed back on her need to lie to her father about him, "Ha, ha".

Angela Carter began snickering, "Very fortunate timing you have, Eddie".

"Oh, don't I know it, Angie", wallowing in luck, Eddie watched this young woman walk to the other side of her bedroom.

Angela lay on her bed, adorning only white bra and panties. Her smooth skin wiggled against a blush colored comforter with rose design on it. She enjoyed this man's attention.

Just looking at this female, gave him shivers of lustful longing. As Angela rolled onto her left side, Edward sat on the edge of that bed, "I don't think you have any idea of how I'm affected by you, Angela".

"I think I know", running fingers through her curly brown hair, she understood the change between them, "Every time we're around each other, you look at me differently than you used to", relishing the affection and attention she'd gotten from this formerly platonic male, "I like the way you look at me, Eddie".

Looking down to his left, Edward surveyed the swan before him, "Oh, you do, Angie?", knowing there must have been a slew of others who saw this woman the same way, "But, I know I'm not the only one, sweetie".

Almost in a consoling way, her manicured right hand rubbed against his back, "That night we had at your place was fun, Uncle Eddie", tapping a trio of painted nails onto navy blazer, Angela spoke as the young woman who'd known this lawyer since she was a child, "But, it would never be possible to keep it going past then".

"I wish we could", using some of his courtroom charm on this fascinating female, Edward desired another round in a bedroom court of coital maneuvers.

Angela loved Edward in many ways. Yet, the primary angle he wanted them to share, was something she didn't wish to continue. Giving into one of his prior requests would be the way Angie would keep a smile on Eddie's face.

A few moments of silence was broken, as Angie coquettishly whispered, "I'll let you take those pictures of me, if you still want to, Uncle Eddie".

"You would let me, Angela?", like a thunderbolt, the thrill of hearing those words coming from her sweet lips overtook him.

"If it would make you happy, I would", Angela offered herself for his Polaroid contentment, as she fed this male fantasy. When she was in Eddie's home that evening of red ropes and corsets, thoughts of being caught on film was the furthest thought from Angie's mind.

The man, who sat on that bed, was a person she could trust. Even with a few naughty snapshots, Angela knew Edward would never release such a stunning secret to anyone.

"Yes", engulfed in eager appreciation, Eddie rubbed Angie's right cheek, "I'd love that".

Upright, she sat next to him on her bed, "I guess you better get them laminated", Angie started giggling, when thinking about how moist his experience would be in the presence of a set of pictures.

"You are very perceptive, Angela", knowing Arthur would be coming home soon; Edward stood and walked over to the bedroom window to peek outside.

Beginning to fiddle with her front bra clasps, Angela playfully probed him, "Have you stroked off to me, lately?"

Head turned and smiled, "You're a bad, bad girl, Angie".

Knowing he was ascending under those pants, she began rubbing her breasts beneath that fabric, "Answer the question, counselor?", twisting the knife of inquisition to him.

Trying to avoid looking at Angela, he began to look out of that window again, "Many a moment of stiffness is chalked up to you, beautiful one".

Legs dangling over that ruffled comforter, Angie made another suggestion, "I could come down to the pool, while you two are going over business papers", locking one leg atop the other, she purred to this solicitor, "Would you like that, Eddie?"

"Angela, you know I'd love it", body turning attention around to her, Ed grinned at Angie.

"You can choose what I'll wear", pointing left index finger to top drawer of a wooden dresser, "Daddy won't be paying any attention to me", giving him some guidance on what she could model by the pool, "So, it can be as stringy as you want it to be".

Having peeled off those white undergarments, Angela stood there naked and waiting for something to wear.

Edward furiously went through the countless items that were in that drawer, as both heard the sound of Arthur's car pulling into the driveway. Finally, Longfellow pulled out a bikini and tossed it to her.

"This one is perfect".

Orange and white vertical striped string bikini was held in Angela's waiting hand, as a beaming smile came to her face, "So, you like that one, Ed?"

"Put it on, Angie", thinking of what she'd look like in those skimpy pieces of fabric.

Lawrence Chase, an accountant for Carter Manufacturing Corporation had been seeing her for over four months. It was this new man in Angela's life who had given her that as a present. How ironic it was for Edward to choose it for wearing down by the poolside in Arthur Carter's home.

"Larry gave me that one", rolling thong between that bare ass, Angela began tying up the bikini top to cover breasts with orange cotton, "Two men in my life, have such good taste".

Edward, taken aback a bit at that glint of information from her, nodded in accepting the fact that another had chosen such an appealing garment for Angela, "So, I guess we do".

Eddie left her bedroom to go downstairs to meet with Arthur. Slightly surprised to see Carter with the aforementioned Lawrence Chase, the three men made their way onto the patio. Ten minutes later, Angela goes down to the same location. She is quite happy about Larry being there.

Trying to be completely oblivious to the situation of Edward and Lawrence being there together, she feigned ignorance of this meeting. Greeting her father first, Angela kissed him on the left cheek, "Daddy, I didn't know you would be home so early".

Pecking his daughter on the cheek, Arthur waved an index finger in her direction, "Angela, I told you that I had a business meeting".

"I guess I forgot", acting like her brains were scattered in the sunshine of the afternoon, Angela smiled at a gazing boyfriend, "Larry, I'm glad you're here".

Clumsily standing from a patio chair, Larry almost choked at her almost nude flesh before him, "Angela, you're a lovely sight in that".

"I didn't even know you were coming here today", Angie let out a light giggle, giving a gentle shrug of those soft shoulders to him in a whisper, "But I really love this bikini you brought me".

Larry Chase is pleased to see Angie in a present that he'd brought her, "And, it loves you, too", laughing at the good luck he had in coming to this meeting at Arthur's home.

"Larry, I think we better get down to business", looking to get the attention of a smitten Chase away from the barely covered beauty, Edward smiled, "Right, Arthur?"

"He's right, Larry", Arthur sat looking through a pile of papers, "The sooner we get this over with", knowing Chase would rather spend a sunny afternoon with his daughter then himself, "You and Angela can enjoy each other's company".

Angela's wet lips kissed Larry's cheek, "He's right about that, Larry".

"Would you like to go do dinner after we're finished here, Angela?", Larry made Angie an offer he hoped she wouldn't refuse.

Her eyes darted over to an overhearing Eddie, while responding with pleasure, "I'd love that".

"Well, my daughter's happy", Carter let out a loud laugh at her response, "So, let's get to business, boys".

Situated across from him, Edward called over to a captivated Lawrence Chase and Angela Carter, "Larry, come on over".

"See you in a bit", smooching Angela's cheek, Larry smiled and walked back to the patio table.

"Yes, you will, Larry", walking over to the pool chair and rubbing some tanning oil on herself, as they began talking about business matters.

At one point, Angela slightly twisted that sweaty body and the bikini top untied itself. Revealing bare breasts, she knows Larry is watching this event. Pink nipples shimmered beneath a beaming sun. Slowly she pulled herself into those cotton cups. Angela Carter became soaked at the fact that Edward was also watching her intently.

Excusing himself from their meeting, Edward went inside the house to make a phone call. Angie knew Eddie went into the downstairs bathroom of her father's home to jack off. She'd gotten Longfellow so worked up with a tit popping free in the sunshine, he'd had to relieve himself.

When Eddie returned outside, Angie was sitting on that pool lounger with Larry making jokes and petting her soft skin. His hands stroked those glistening shoulders, as she began laughing at this witty male.

Tinge of green came over Edward at that moment. But, those pangs of jealousy vaporized, as he knew Angela would be his willing muse very soon.

As for Arthur Carter, he definitely paid little to no attention to his daughter's antics by the pool. He was just glad she was happy. Maybe, Chase might be more than just a passing amorous association for her.

Larry Chase and Angie Carter had gone to Chicago on a business trip three months ago, when he gave her that bikini. She wore it at the hotel pool, where they made love for the first time. It was a truly wet beginning for them both.

Inside of a two month period from that April conversation in Angela's bedroom, Edward Longfellow had set up his home for a photographing engagement in June 1975.

"Hello, Eddie", denim bag hung over her shoulder, as Angie smiled at this requesting male opening that front door.

Grinning broadly, Eddie kissed her on the cheek, "You are a sight for sore eyes, Angela".

"Hmm, from what you've relayed to me in the past, Uncle Eddie", revisiting those tart conversations that they had in the past, Angela's tongue tip licked slowly against cherry gloss, "Those baby blues aren't the only things that are sore on you".

Closing door behind his guest, Eddie enjoyed the back view, "Come on inside and get comfortable".

Brown eyes flickered, as she looked around that living room, "So, what's in all those boxes?", denim bag placed onto loveseat.

Fantasy coming to reality, Edward Longfellow took measures to ensure his wishes, "I brought a few things I'd like you to wear for me, Angela".

"You really put a lot of effort and time into this, Eddie", thinking of how organized this orgasmic mission was about to become, Angie warmly smiling at him.

"For you, I always will", arousal's spell was cast with Angela Chase's reception of Edward Longfellow in the past, which would play itself further in his home.

From that open box full of thongs, corsets and bras, Angela pulled out a handful of garments. Making the journey upstairs and getting out of those clothes, Angela stood naked in his bathroom.

Situated outside that small location, Eddie started to surprise his subject with a few camera clicks. Unexpected laughter and giggles came from her, as Angie tried to make several faux fashion poses for him.

Trotting into the bedroom, she placed a bra on, "Is this okay?", wanting to know if her choice was fitting for what he desired.

"Perfect", biting bottom lip with anxious glee, Edward affirmation rose several degrees for Angela.

"I think it might be too tight", slim hands constantly adjusted straps on that cleavage garment, as she fidgeted.

Not worried by this level of discomfort his model for the afternoon was feeling, "Your jugs are being suffocated under that lace", Eddie boyishly smiled at Angie, "It's brilliant", sighing at her bare bottom, "Your ass is delightful for these eyes" ,camera clicked again.

Pink lace tweaked those nipples, "You like me being constrained, don't you, Uncle Eddie?"

Eddie loved the sight of flesh restrained and captured by a variety of garment, "You know that I do".

"Oh, yes, I remember", visions of red ropes and corsets danced through Angie's mind.

Positioning camera onto nightstand, Eddie opened the top drawer and handed her a pair of red handcuffs, "Put these on, Angela", chuckling at the implication of having this tempting tulip under confinement, "It's my turn to see you under lock and key".

Clicking those shackles onto her, Angela motioned wrists back and forth, "You like this?"

"Hmm, mmm", holding camera in hand once more, a single click occurred, "Hold your arms outstretched in front of you. I want to see the cuffs down by that honey dam".

Straining those cuffed hands down by pussy hair, she purred at him, "Where do you want me to stand?"

"Outside".

"Outside?"

"Follow me, my lady", walking this pleasing captive down those carpeted stairs and into the backyard, Longfellow's right arm began to point, "Stand over by the patio table, okay?"

Bare ass rested against green painted, resin table, "Like this?"

"Perfect", camera clicked with joy.

"It's chilly out here", teased by a July afternoon's cool breeze, her nipples began hardening. Wisconsin wind blew Angela's long, brown curls forward, leaving a few loose strands against those stiff pink pearls.

Looking through the lens, Eddie agreed with glee, "I can definitely see that".

"Is this enough?", red cuffs rubbed against exposed pussy lips, giving this raunchy photographer a saucy show.

Motioning camera to his left cheek, Eddie smiled and gave into this female's request, "Let's go back upstairs".

Tipping into that bedroom, whispering, "Are you going to set me free, Eddie?"

As if Eddie were returning a naughty favor of sorts to Angie, "Haven't I already done that, the last time you were here, Angela", snickering and loosening those cuffs.

"Ooh, yes, Eddie. Steady Eddie", excited over the events of this afternoon, Chase hadn't consumed anything all morning. Which left a growling stomach and lips smacking together, "I'm starving".

Angela sauntered into the kitchen, reaching over a walnut counter to grab a peach. Munching quickly on that piece of fruit, this female felt satisfaction.

Contorting naked body over that counter, Angie became a sight that Eddie appreciated. He had followed behind her closely with camera in hand.

Snapping a picture with the flash going off, she partially pulled body upright and turned around, "Eddie? I'm not ready yet", still bent over that walnut structure.

Admiring firm flesh before Edward's eyes, "Angie, you're just perfect in that position", camera lens caught the vision to film.

Chomping peach, she giggled, "Let me finish this and we can go back upstairs".

"Uh, uh", grinning and clicking, "Keep on working on that peach, baby" ,moving himself around that counter, slowly continuing to press buttons on camera.

Peach juice ran down Angela's chin and against her silky chest. She tittered and nibbled, while Eddie snapped and steamed for her.

Removing body off counter, Angie wiped that fruity liquid off with a paper towel, "What's next, Mr. Longfellow?"

"I want you on the sofa".

"Ah, you have covered all the bases in your home, haven't you, Edward?", buoyantly bouncing onto that sofa with legs crossed beneath her, Angela was ready for anything.

Pleased at her compliance so far, Eddie made a further instruction, "Angela, I want you to lie back and spread those luscious legs for me".

"Like this?", laying back and opening legs slightly.

"I want to see you, Angie", Longfellow continued to hold camera in front of his face, "All of you".

"Mmm, I feel like I'm a bunny or something more wicked, Eddie", left foot touched the floor, while Angie held the right leg over the top of that sofa, "Now, is this what you want to see, Eddie?"

Angela's satin sliver was spread for him, fulfilling all of his erotic whims at the moment, "God, you could give me a heart attack doing that".

Knowing how marbleized this man became, Angie couldn't resist a playful joust, "A hard attack, right?", instinctively knowing he loved looking at her breasts, she cupped them with both hands.

"Show me those nipples, honey", twisting camera into several angles, Eddie's tongue resembled a viper tasting the perfumed air.

"I'll get them good and hard for you, okay?", polished fingertips began pinching them to firmness Angela began rubbing her thighs.

"Yeah, yeah", camera continued to click, while it's owner panted at this sable haired cutie.

Nipples red with excitement, Angie's pussy glistened as she relaxed on this soft sofa, "Am I doing a good job, Uncle Eddie?'

She'd given him more than he'd expected. Taking in the glorious gem, Eddie held camera against right side of a pouting face, "If you were any better, sweetheart", clicking again, "You'd melt this lens".

Shifting body on that sofa with a giggle, "That's good to hear", resting arms above her head and closing eyes.

"That's delicious", smiling in relief at it's conclusion, he bent to kiss her, "We're done, Angela".

Opening eyes and licking lips, Angela asked, "Did you get what you wanted?"

Gingerly shaking camera in right hand, Edward Longfellow expressed gratitude to this glistening gal, "You've made me a man happy beyond belief".

"I can see that", Angela was aroused and amused at Eddie's never-ending ascension, while looking at a growing erection beneath his robe, "So, are you going to develop those yourself, Ed?"

"Without a doubt", feeling cock rising again, Eddie nodded in response.

Sitting up on the sofa slowly, "You really have an interesting imagination.

He sat down next to her, "And, you fulfilled over one of my wishes, lovely one.

Angela stood up and ran fingers through her hair, "I better get dressed".

His hand rubbed up and down her right thigh, as if that action would keep this delightful diva with him for a bit longer, "Why don't you stay for lunch", using the charm offensive, "And, maybe a little dessert afterwards?"

"The only thing you're hungry for is my pussy, right?", taking the direct approach to this male's veiled suggestion for a meal, Angie exactly what Eddie wished would be between them.

Smacking lips together, honesty prevailed, "Oh, yeah".

"Eddie, if I let you fuck me again, it might complicate things", thinking about how adventurous their prior erotic event was, she also recoiled at further implications for the both of them.

"What things, baby?", Eddie's fingers tip-toed up Angie's bare back, trying to find out what could stand in the way of another round in his bed.

"Well, for one thing", Angela began placing cards of consequence over a future physical swirl with Edward out for him, "My father might wonder why I'm over here with you", ticking tongue against teeth, "As for the second thing. Well, you know Larry and I are dating".

"And, you don't want any other cock in that sweet snatch, but his?", green glow of jealous came over Eddie, wanting to be another man that could enter her sweet pussy.

Head tilted to the right, as Angela caressed Edward's tense cheek, "I think those pics you just took, will keep you more than satisfied with me", giving warm smile and calm voice to this dejected male, "Right?"

Almost inaudible, Eddie murmured, "A bounty like you", letting out a deep sigh slowly, he was taking in the image before him, "How can a man choose between this film and your flesh?"

"It's your choice, Eddie", tiny spurts of laughter came from Angela's warm lips, knowing those pictures would be something he could treasure for years, "Live or Memorex?"

"I'll take Memorex, my darling, Angie"

"Good choice", bending down and kissing him, her actions reassured Eddie.

Angela's fleeting lips, left Edward almost intoxicated from her touch, "Thank God, for small gifts".

She walked upstairs with him following behind and placing camera onto nightstand. Pulling on jeans, shoes and tank top quickly, this fantastically friendly female bounding downstairs, "Eddie? I'm ready to go".

"If only Artie knew how his little girl has grown up", for the first time, Eddie felt comfortable enough to speak the name of his lover's father.

Squeezing denim bag up from that loveseat, Angela twisted handle around hand, "He'd wonder why his good friend can't resist jacking off when thinking of her".

"Ooh, that mouth, Angela", Eddie would not resist admonishing her.

"Exactly", grinning at him, Angie touched that sash on his robe, "And, if he knew what I can do with it, he'd be choking on his cigar".

Unrestrained laughter flowed from Eddie, "What a woman you have become, sweet Angie", this lusty lawyer kissed Angela on right cheek and slowly opened the front door.

"I'm glad I could live up to your dreams of me, Uncle Eddie", glad that she could please this male, Angie beamed with pride.

Edward relished this female's presence in his life, "I love it when you call me that, Angela".

Walking out of that entrance, flirtation flowed from Angie's lips, "I know you do".

Saying farewells to his moist mistress of mystery, Edward Longfellow walked back inside. Going upstairs, he changed from robe into faded jeans and a green t-shirt. Taking camera into downstairs bathroom, Eddie used that small location as a darkroom. Under three hours, thirty-six pictures were hung onto a trio of laundry lines in this excited photographer's bathroom.

As sun set in Eau Claire, a telephone rang in an upstairs bedroom of the Carter home. Angela held the receiver to a silver hooped ear, as Edward conveyed the captured magic that they shared earlier.

Even though he realized nothing sexual would ever occur between them again, Eddie pined to nestle against smoking lips of Angie's passion.

Angela Carter, on the other sweaty hand, moved forward in a relationship with Lawrence Chase. It was a friendship that led to September 1975 marriage.

- Extended TWO Chapter Segment END

- END OF EXCERPT

Behind the doors of the wealthy, there's always something stirring...;)

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"Over My Head" - (Contemporary Romance) Devotion Comes With A Price by A.H. Scott

2012-02-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

A Husband's Secret Is A Silk Gamble...

...A Wife Is Left Holding A Sows Purse...

Lawrence Chase owed a debt. His wife, Angela, took a gamble. Pity for both, that losing a few dollars would be nothing compared to higher stakes in their marriage.

What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling a secret from the past.

Go "Over My Head" with A.H. Scott!

Looking at a portrait of a man and wife, the fractures of a marriage aren't easily seen. Smile and supportive caress hide the barren wasteland of a relationship.

They were a happy couple once. With fresh air and laughter. Chuckles fade. Gone is the optimism of youthful exuberance.

Blissful petals have withered on the vine of time

Symbol of an affair is permanently erased.

A wife, who has acted upon her own desires, has taken a carefree step into a world she never expected would come at the end of fate's rainbow.

She is a woman who exists amongst four joined stages of life's square. Exploration is the first angle. Love comes as the second turn of degrees. Passion takes third angle. Obligation is that fourth angle of completing the cube of this female's world.

Lace cradles creamy flesh. Yet, warts of a soul's disfigurement can never be truly obscured.

A husband's secret is the cornerstone of events, which lead to triumph and tragedy in a shortest span of time.

Veiled agendas beneath soft kisses are bitter in daylight's exposure, as intrusions of many forms take several by surprise.

Man of varied lies and devilish alibis has snaked his way into the lives of this couple. Certain word of support or smile of comfort had the effect of making all the difference in gaining entry into another's life.

Before either knows it, they are submerged in something beyond their control.

For what was a frivolous flirtation, became a shower of a heart's hidden obsession onto a floor of doom's dance.

It leads to that moment of culmination's wondering by this wandering wife to staying afloat in a marriage's rickety vessel of distress or forever being "Over My Head".

Eau Claire society had never been plagued with such a scandal.

An affair that had begun under less than pleasant circumstances, unraveled into a hazy sunset of sorrow for Angela, Nicholas and Lawrence.

The Chases' marriage had a ribbon of secrets and lies that each held closed to the other. Lawrence's lies led Angela to harbor secrets of her own to him.

In some ways, actions by her husband propelled this dutiful wife into the arms of another man.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

"OVER MY HEAD" DESCRIPTION :

Lies and secrets are like molecules of fat. They always rise to the surface.

In the swirling stew of seduction, two persons draw a wife into a web of corruption and condemnation. First of which is her husband, who harbors a secret that she has found out about. Secondly, a man whose intentions towards her have been well known for many years.

Her husband's secret is bound to a lie that the an acquaintance uses to his own benefit. This wife decides to take a gamble of her own, which leads to places that unseen consequences roam.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion.

Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father.

Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also.

Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began widdling away at this woman's self esteem.

Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission.

Events in the lives of the Chases could have taken such a different road, if only a husband told his wife the entire truth about a secret he'd been holding.

Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion.

Desire can take us to places that the heart can never capture. A simple hand out to a stranger can be all that a lonely person could ever need. Even if it were from someone you never thought would be a part of your life. In this tale of crimson conclusions and titillation's triumph, only a single notion of being submerged in an ocean of delights is whispered into a longing soul's ear.

Shall my world remain one of mendacity or should I go, "Over My Head".

"Over My Head" has a few twists amongst the pages, that will leave the reader wondering how did A.H. Scott make the pea vanish from beneath that obvious shell.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

That's "Over My Head". Submerge Yourself Into Seduction's Sea.

And, with that, A.H. Scott offers you an introduction to the players in her novel, "Over My Head":

OVER MY HEAD CHARACTERS:

Angela Carter Chase -
(Heiress and Lawrence Chase's wife)

Angela Carter had been given the world on a silver platter by her tycoon father, Arthur Carter. Even with that, this feisty woman was now a wife to an accountant, Lawrence Chase.

Even with that life that seemed very serene, Angela wanted more. In this case, more came in the unlikely form of a quite titillating restauratuer and businessman named Nicholas Bell.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

------------

Lawrence Chase
Accountant and Angela's husband

Lawrence Chase may not have been what Eau Claire society may have expected to be married to Angela Carter. Yet, he made his own luck in love's field. Being an accountant at Arthur Carter's business, Lawrence enjoyed the benefits of being married to the boss' daughter.

Chase may have been lucky in love, but when it came to other high stakes games, Larry was a loser. And, the person who sat in the catbird's seat of having this tender plum of information would be the last person Lawrence Chase could trust.

-------------

Edward Longfellow -
(Lawyer and Carter family friend)

Edward Longfellow knew the law inside and out. But, his greatest asset was an ability to read people. This came from his varied clients in Eau Claire and other locations throughout Wisconsin.

Being a longtime legal counsel and friend to industrialist Arthur Carter, Edward became privy to many aspects of the Carter family goings on.

Having known Angela since she was born, Edward had been a quite protective force in her life. Certain secrets between this lawyer and young heiress would be quite catastrophic for both of their reputations, if anything were ever disclosed.

Angela Chase confided many things to Edward, which neither Arthur or Lawrence would ever know.

--------------

Nicholas Bell -
(Businessman and Angela's lover)

Nicholas Bell was owner of a local nightspot (The Eight Ball) for many years, when he met Angela Carter. As she became Angela Chase, now restauratuer (Tulip) Bell remained a quite captivated man by this woman from afar.

Bell climbed the social ladder in Eau Claire, from the lower rungs up towards the top of that structure. Arthur Carter's nod of approval for his restaurant, proved the tide of acceptability in a higher social circle was turning in Nicholas' favor.

From a young age, Nicholas learned the best way to get ahead was to sit back and observe. And, then pounce on whatever weakness your opponent may have.

Thus, whenever he'd gotten a chance, this smart man would use information his own benefit. Be it in the form of a digits' ascendency or cradling of perfumed skin.

Timing was everything and Bell took full advantage of that fateful factor.

-----------------

Arthur Carter -
(Tycoon and Angela's father)

Some businessman try to pretend to be something that they are not. This was not the case for a mid-Western industrialist. Arthur Carter was an arrogant man. That is a statement of fact. He never tried to runaway from who he was or how he amassed his vast fortune.

Steel was the ticket to Arthur's fortune. And, it also was the will he had to make his business a success in Wisconsin.

This was something that he'd passed down to his daughter, Angela. She'd thrived under that armor of his arrogance to her own detriment at the moment.

Arthur Carter was always fair in business. But, no one would ever be shocked if he had taken an invisible razor from his tailored suit pocket in the boardroom.

Money became a sheilding column of bricks to the real world. But, there always were fissures in that seemingly solid wall that the rich built around themselves.

----------------------

Gennaro Esposito -
(NB Auto Repair manager and Bell's friend)

Primarily, Gennaro Esposito was a longtime friend of Nicholas Bell. Manager of Bell's auto repair business, Esposito enjoyed similar interests of pleasure as Nicholas.

Gennaro shared many a secret with his socially ascending friend in Eau Claire.

-----------

Iris Mendoza -
(The Cat's Paw Tattoo Parlor owner and Bell's friend)

Secondly, Iris Mendoza was also a friend to Nicholas Bell. Owner of a local tattoo parlor, Iris and Bell shared many a laugh and drink together.

Mendoza may have seemed like an unlikely ally to Bell. But, each of them knew the power of association.

-------------

Archie Hamilton -
(Bartender at The Eight Ball & Part-Time Tulip Restaurant manager)

Archie Hamilton was a man who knew all the key players in this drama. From a previous position working for Arthur Carter, to the present day employment at two of Nicholas Bell's businesses, Archie Hamilton had a faint finger on the pulse of the main characters in this novel.

Working as a bartender at that nightspot and a part-time manager at the swanky restaurant, Archie didn't have much free time to dream of a better life for himself and his family.

Yet, this man of multiple obligations did just that.

-----------------------------------

Madeline Hamilton -
(Physical therapist and Archie Hamilton's wife)

Physical therapist Madeline Hamilton worked at the local hospital. Wife to Archie and mother of two young sons, Madeline had a quite pleasant existence in Eau Claire.

Madeline's world was her family. And, even with any flaws that were behind closed doors, she would do anything to protect and love her husband, Archie.

The Hamilton's marriage may not have been sparkling. But, they were a union of stability with their two sons.

--------------------------------

Julius Baxter -
(Wisconsin court Judge)

Julius Baxter was an Eau Claire County Judge that had played a part in the lives of three of the other main characters. He knew the Carter family and Edward Longfellow had stood before him at the judicial bar.

Restraint was never truly Julius' strong point. And, one of the other characters in this juicy novel feels the brunt of his ever increasing ego.

Judge Baxter was an ambitious man, as time would prove him to rise to the head of Wisconsin's Supreme Court.

---------------------------

Ann Marshall Baxter -
(Socialite and Julius' wife)

Ann Marshall Baxter was not only the wife of Judge Julius Baxter, but thrived as a socialite in Wisconsin society. Ann wasn't a wife who bit her tongue in criticizing a spouse.

In fact, it may have been Ann's ballbusting of Julius that prompted the rise of this mid-level judge on the Eau Claire County circuit.

Ann knew that behind her powerful husband, remained a woman of charm and elegance, who wasn't above twisting a few arms in maintaining their place on that platinum peak of society.

---------------------------

Darlene Morrissey -
(Tulip restaurant waitress)

Darlene Morrissey had known Angela Carter in their years at the local Catholic high school together. Morrissey hadn't the fortune to have a rich father provide for a smooth existence for her, such as Angela had.

From Darlene's point of view towards Angela, envy smoldered within this woman who saw her own dreams of a better life doused by choices she made in years past.

So, she became a waitress at a local, high end restaurant.

Looking at them on the surface, both women were as different as a crepe and poundcake. Alas, scrape away the fluffy finery of a father's wealth and the world would realize both women were equal halves of a whole.

Beneath Angela's silk and Darlene's polyester, both had many things in common. This included a layered relationship with Nicholas Bell.

Explore the world of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head' in this extended excerpt:

EXCERPT -

FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT DESCRIPTION - Lawrence Chase has a problem. Angela Chase does not know about it yet. So, the question that arises is; how does this husband keep this secret from his loving wife?

FIRST CHAPTER ONLY

EXCERPT -

Over My Head
by
A.H. Scott

Chapter

Lawrence Chase felt himself lucky. A good job and great wife were all signs of fortune. Married to his employer's daughter, his future seemed brighter than a thousand stars. Angela Carter's passion and spirit filled him with overwhelming joy. Larry found a gem in Angie.

With light temperament and coy smile, Angela had a varied effect on every man she came in contact with. Angela's own sense of fortune, was reflected in being adored by all the men in her life. From her husband to her father, she had the persuasive gift in wrapping each of them around her manicured finger.

Yet, even with the ease of the feminine power that Angela Chase had, her husband Larry waltzed with a mistress that no spouse would ever compete with.

Lawrence's luck began to slip with every losing hand from a blackjack table at the Rabbit's Foot in 1979.

Beneath the shimmering surface of the Chases' relationship, there existed jagged shards that pricked away at the portrait of marital tranquility.

Doubts and misgivings that had been locked away in internal silence within husband and wife, suddenly began to sound once again with the jangling keys of secrets and lies.

For Lawrence, he thought staying on top of his losses at the Rabbit's Foot and a few other locations around the state, would be a secret that would be easy to keep from his wife. But, he knew in the back of his mind, that Angela would be the precious petal being betrayed by a spouse whose ego had gotten the best of him when the truth came out.

As for Angela, there were the lies that she told herself about Larry not gambling anymore. But, beyond the financial storm that had begun to swirl around her world, there remained something far more destructive than a husband's rising debt.

It was something that neither of them wanted to face head on or speak of. But, a lie of the heart would never stay buried forever.

Alas, life wasn't as placid as this couple would have wished it to be.

During a period within the first two months of their marriage in 1975, Larry's gambling debts became an accepted burden which Angie paid off. Like any other loving spouse, she wanted to help her husband with any complications that arose. Pulling Lawrence's neck out of that financial noose, Angela sold several savings bonds.

Pity this husband didn't learn his lesson back then in those blossoming days of marital bliss.

One thing that Larry didn't want to do at this present time in 1979, was to go to his wife for those funds as in prior days of their marriage in 1975 for the sum of thirty-five thousand dollars.

At an unlicensed gambling establishment off Highway 44 and 49 in Fairwater, Wisconsin, Larry's debts began to rise with several digits. He knew this reality couldn't be placed on his beloved Angie's subtle shoulders.

The Rabbit's Foot seemed an unlikely place for him to stand on that tightrope of self-destruction. Yet, there Lawrence Chase was on a June night in 1979.

Rommoulus Thorne, manager and owner of The Rabbit's Foot had physical similarities to film noir actor Sydney Greenstreet. His large frame and commanding presence intimidated many unfortunate patrons in this Fairwater gambling establishment.

One person who was on that descending scale of favor was seated at the blackjack table.

June 19th seemed like any other night at the Rabbit's Foot for this regular patron. Man who sat at the table was a slightly anxious businessman from Eau Claire, dressed in tan suit with a white shirt and black tie. Hand after hand of cards coming up short to the number twenty-one, was making him begin to squirm in of the red chairs seated around the black gaming table.

Thorne and two of his employees stood near a column nearby the blackjack table, watching the spectacle of lost bets by this single man seated there.

Born Rafik-el Rommoulus Talami, this Turkish native had been in the United States since the late 1950's. After changing his name to the more innocuous Thorne, from a trip to the Thorne Market in Fond du Lac, Rommoulus began a new life of prosperity.

Having had prior visa problems that led to a sizable fine by the IRS, Rommoulus was blocked from a full licensing of the Rabbit's Foot in 1966. Without the liquor license needed for full expansion of his business, The Rabbit's Foot would always remain on the shady side of the gambling world.

The last thing that Rommoulus Thorne needed was a blackjack table that had little to no action occurring around it. Thorne made a decision to talk to the seated patron.

Six words that no gambler ever wanted to hear came from Rommoulus Thorne, "The table is closed to you".

"Listen, just one more bet" ,pant of urgency rolled from Larry's lips, as two cards rested upon that dark green velour table top, "I've got a good feeling about this next one".

Thorne placed his hand onto the blackjack table, as fingers tapped the two cards that were just dealt to this man by the dealer, "Larry" ,Rommoulus nodded to the dealer and the neatly dressed croupier walked away from that table slowly.

Lawrence Chase had taken many an evening sojourn East on I-94 from Eau Claire to Fairwater and saw no reason to exit early.

Childish petulance came over Larry, has he wished to stay at that blackjack table, "No" ,raising voice to a level pitch where several other patrons gazed at him, Chase lowered his voice and smiled, "I want to continue".

With a diplomatic flair, Rommoulus Thorne bent over slightly and whispered downward to Chase's left ear, "Don't make a scene, Chase" ,not wanting their business to be known by anyone else on the gaming floor of the Rabbit's Foot, "I want you to stand up and come with me".

Dejected at not having a winning hand at the moment, Lawrence Chase stood and began to walk with Thorne and two other men behind him, "I just don't know what went wrong" ,shaking his head in disbelief at the possibility of a losing streak washing over him, he added "I was up 50".

The quartet walked across the gaming floor and towards the back of the building, where some offices were located. Pair of other males stopped a few feet from the last office in the rear and waited for further instructions from Thorne.

Ambling through his office door, Rommoulus waved him inside and closed the door behind them, "And, now you're down 250" ,Thorne pointed to a straight-back, black leather chair, "Sit down, Larry, we need to talk".

Slightly agitated by the owner's request, Larry sat down and sputtered, "I've got to get back out there" ,almost feeling that itch of the gambling bug nibbling at his essence, Chase gently squirmed in that leather chair.

Fairwater business owner laid this client's digits bare to him, "Lawrence, you owe the house 250" ,Thorne took the patron's history into account, "Now, I let your credit get that high, because in the past whenever you owed a large chunk it was paid back quite quickly".

Alas, for Rommoulus Thorne, past performances were negligible.
Scratching head at the thought of that debt dangling above his head, Larry exhaled with a hint of desperation, "Well, that sum might not be so easy to come up with".

"This is why you are in here" ,Rommoulus inhaled deeply and dropped a verbal bomb on Chase, "The door will not let you in anymore".

"But, I-" ,Chase paused and thought of all the times he'd been in the Rabbit's Foot over many months, "I've been a good customer to you".

Thorne chuckled at the optimistic fortitude that Chase tossed his way, "Good? Well, that's debatable" ,getting right to the core of why Larry was in that office, "Your losses outweigh your winnings".

"You know me, I'm good for it" ,Chase made no bones in the past to Thorne about who his employer was in Eau Claire. And, at this point in the waning night, he was going to use any ace of remaining at the Rabbit's Foot that was available to him.

Maybe, Carter Manufacturing Corporation held weight in Eau Claire's financial spreadsheets. Yet, in the back room of an unlicensed gambling operation in Fairwater, the only weight that mattered was Rommoulus'.

"The house can no longer cover your credit" ,Thorne rested large frame against sturdy structure and folded arms, "You are no longer welcome here".

The Rabbit's Foot's owner laid out the reality of what was happening that June night to this faltering card player, without frills or puffery.

Lawrence Chase was fitting the mold of the gambler that could see a winning hand just over the horizon. Yet, was unwilling to just give up his place at the gaming table, "I'm just having a bad streak, that's all. It will pick up soon".

"I'm sorry, Larry" ,slowly he walked behind his black Lucite desk, pulled a single paper from its drawer and placed it next to a gold ballpoint pen, "I need you to sign this note for the 250".

Lawrence Chase signed the paper quickly, thinking that he'd be able to get in a few more hands of blackjack before leaving for that night, "Now, what?"

Adorned n a light colored suit, Thorne spoke, "Don't be the rabbit, Larry", smirking at the thought of how unlucky that foot was for the hare, another bewildered beast came to this elder male's mind, "Or, in this case, the ostrich".

Larry's luck became a figment of his own ego. Being a gimpy bunny was one thing of misfortune. He could outride the losses in future months. Alas, turning into that flightless bird that didn't realize the depths of financial loss Chase actually was in, transformed into a shame that not even his wife would be told of.

Blindsided by these events in the Rabbit's Foot, he was a bit baffled with that comparison, "I don't understand".

As a man who'd known the bitter brew of revenge from his youth in Turkey, Rommoulus ruminated to Larry, "In my country, when a man doesn't pay his debts, the dawn never rises for him ever again" ,for the present moment, a tempered reaction was needed, "But, then again, Mr. Chase, this isn't my country. It's yours".

Wanting to wash Chase out of his hair, Thorne made a decision of what should be done with this unfortunate gambler. Larry had come to the end of the line.

Rommoulus walked to the door and motioned for two of his employees to enter the office. No violence would ever come from this Turk on the American shores. A dismissal of this losing patron was best for all involved, as he spoke to a pair of men, "Please, show Mr. Chase outside".

Motioning out of the chair, Larry muttered, "Are you throwing me out?" ,almost unable to believe that his time could ever be up at the Rabbit's Foot, Chase shrugged and gazed at Thorne and this pair.

One man in his mid-30's had a slim build with a dark suit on. As for the other person, he was a tall Nordic blond in his early-40's. Larry had seen them around the Rabbit's Foot many times and knew what their duties were. Sad for him, they would be acting upon throwing out the unpaying trash of this evening.

"No, no, no" ,Rommoulus Thorne became amused at this circumstance of Chase, "Think of this as a final escort" ,right hand waved Larry away, "Hope your luck changes soon, Larry" ,letting out a sigh of relief, "Good night".

To some, the stuff that dreams were made of were seen as an elusive black bird, while others viewed it as a shaky hand holding a wad of crumpled dollar bills. The latter remained foremost in Thorne's mind.

Life wasn't a motion picture in the mold of John Huston's 1941 classic. But, the similarities between fiction and reality had those moments of clarity. And, this for Rommoulus Thorne and a departing Lawrence Chase transformed into one of them.

Not giving up on his chase for recapturing any prior luck at the table, Chase walked through the gaming floor towards the front entrance with the pair of men, "Fellas, just one more round?"

Slim man in dark brown suit placed a hand on Larry's back, while giving him a slight push outside the doors, "Sorry, Larry".

"Take care of yourself, Chase" ,Tall man with slicked back blond hair stood by that open door and shook Lawrence's hand for the final time, "Good night".

Walking out into the moonlight alone, he walked to his car quickly. Chase became a scattered soul, while entering the Volvo and opening the glove compartment. Grasping a handful of objects and tossing them onto the passenger seat, Larry began flipping through several bank books in a frantic search for funds. Taking a notepad and pen from the open glove compartment, he began scribbling down several numbers onto paper. From seven different bank accounts, the total cash that was available to him at that late moment of June 19th was only forty-five thousand dollars to pay the house back with.

Ironically, it was conversation during a fishing trip with friends on Beechwood Lake that originally led him to Marigold Isle Casino for a few spins of a roulette wheel. Locals at that casino in Beechwood, were actually the ones who pointed him from Sheboygan and into the direction of Fairwater's gambling Mecca of the Rabbit's Foot.

For Lawrence Chase, that lucky symbol of a rabbit's foot seemed as unlucky for the hare as it was to his own fractured financial horizon.

Three weeks after that dismissal in Fairwater, several markers of various denominations were brought up by an Eau Claire resident. It would be that being, who would hold several former Wisconsin clients' monetary future from the Rabbit's Foot. One of which, was Lawrence Chase.

As three men sat inside an Eau Claire location on July 17th, a small pile of yellow papers were stacked in the middle of a tan colored table.

Male of caramel hue spoke to another next to him, "It's 250, right?", scribbling black ink onto white paper.

Second man nodded, "Yep".

With pen in hand, he held paper upward for the second male to respond, "Are you sure you want to keep this marker?"

"As I live and breathe", looking at that item in his friend's hand, he laughed.

Dark eyes and baldhead, gave the third man a striking appearance, "Well, the air is expensive in Eau Claire".

Man seated in the middle acknowledged that fact, "As are the ladies, Iris".

The location was the Eight Ball. Gennaro Esposito held the pen and papers, while follicle challenged; Iris Mendoza sat to the far left of the second male. And, the owner of this business, Nicholas Bell, remained the contemplative core of this trio.

For an astute acquirer of information and debts, Nicholas Bell polished those coins of cache.

He knew that someday his investment in time and treasury would bear flourishing fruit. Maybe for Bell, someday might be just across the horizon of destiny.

Unlucky person that owed that sum was Lawrence Chase.

Eau Claire lawyer, Edward Longfellow had several clients that were connected to Marigold Isle Casino in Beechwood. During a conversation with one of them, the name Chase came up. As if it were a bell ringing in his ears, Longfellow was set off on a mission to find out more. From Beechwood, a little legwork led him to the Rabbit's Foot in Fairwater.

Lawyer Longfellow wasn't just an unknown entity to Lawrence Chase. He had a connection to Larry, because of his business and personal ties to Angela's father, Arthur Carter.

Eddie finding out about the monetary mess that Larry had gotten himself into, led him to think about Angie being hurt by her husband's actions.

An unpleasant task of giving Angela Chasse the grim news about her husband, was complicated by Edward knowing who owned that hefty marker.

There were two paths of existence in Eau Claire .One, which Arthur and Angela Carter Chase glided along a silken road. Two, was Nicholas Bell and his compatriots maneuvering a more gritty path. For Edward, it was this factor that made something simple suddenly complex.

Far more than just corporation counsel for Carter Manufacturing Corporation, Edward Longfellow had dual alliances with both Carters. Both professionally and socially. Second of which, were events that occurred a year after his longtime friend's daughter had gotten into some knotty legal problems.

Coincidently, the aforementioned community service that the college graduate was sentenced to didn't turn out as she expected.

Angela had a secret of her own.

- FIRST CHAPTER ONLY

- END OF EXCERPT

Behind the doors of the wealthy, there's always something stirring...;)

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"Rack Em" - A Romantic Thriller by A.H. Scott

2012-02-21T11:29:00.001-08:00

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.....

...Yet, so is mankind's avarice..!!

Eirelander Publishing Presents A Novel By Author A.H. Scott

What do you hold most dear? Pride or treasure?

Something, which is searched high and low for, could have always existed within us all.

Liquidator in fine fabric is woven amongst the glittering class of international buyers and sellers of collectible oddities.

Any ability to afford anything money can purchase, gives a certain power that keeps them in a heightened state of eternal inebriation.

That unseen suspect is right in front of everyone's eyes, but not known until it's too late.

Bobbles of bliss from two fated lovers of centuries earlier bring together varied egos into the life of a Vancouver antiques dealer. Price paid by some for these treasures, would be higher than the heavens.

Necessity makes many things necessary. In the end, all which may seem only business will forever be tied to the personal.

A woman and a man, who were strangers and adversaries in this arena, become bound in each other’s arms and hearts.

Exposure of motive and murderer brings forth a climactic conclusion on the rooftop of a Vancouver location.

"Rack Em" is a contemporary romance with hints of mystery and thrills woven throughout it's pages. A.H. Scott invites you into the world of diamond lives and crimson lies. I give you, "Rack Em".

Captivating treasures from centuries prior has led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed, the ball of the unknown is tossed across the billiard table of hidden agendas.

Take a scintillating excursion into the arena of international auctions, with sellers and buyers who trade trinkets, winks and nefarious agendas from around the globe.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior have led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed are just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

Become acquainted with the characters of "Rack Em":

Arlington Cross - Vancouver antiques dealer and owner of Cross Collectibles and recipient of a package from the deceased elder female in France. He is a man under the faulty impression that making a move from the United States to Canada would make his life more simplistic. Little could Arlington Cross ever imagine how complex an antique auction would be.
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Pao Tse-Ling - Chief of acquisitions for a Chinese antique house. Sent has been on a journey to Canada for a simple purchase during an upcoming auction at Cross Collectibles. Not just any items would bring this female across the world to North America. These are treasures that Tse-Ling and her employer have been quite interested in for many years. Little did she think any danger would exist at a humble location in Vancouver.
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Jaqueline Niemann – Elegant woman of French charm, who has seen her share of fluctuating history. Prized package sent to a Vancouver dealer of antiques, is her final act of altruism. The treasure all have sought flows from her dainty fingertips.
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Maxtina Sammprino – bold blonde from Italy, who enjoys the chase and capture of precious fare from days gone by. She is a woman with a thirst for fulfillment, which goes beyond marble boardrooms of the international jet set. Spicy and sassy, Sammprino takes the bull of chauvinism by the horns.
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Turina Karrelli– Italian purchaser of arousing artifacts from around the world. Brunette on a tracking mission of priceless goods has always been fond of caring for the wounded. This includes her fellow Italian associate. Cunning and curvaceous Karrelli has ability to accentuate her assets to gain a positive result.
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Freiderich Rothsberger– Art collector and dealer from Austria, who thinks the best years of his negotiating the big purchase, is winding to the end of success’ road. Chubby cheeks and a hearty laugh of this man have been used as the ultimate mask of constantly being brushed off by opponents.
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Anzo Ninzionni – Purchaser of varied collectibles from around the world, has an eye out for the ladies and something beyond platinum. His journey has taken him from solitude into an arena of being in the company of lust and financial flourish. Bidding on those gilded goods would be a moment that could take him from anonymity onto a higher plateau of notoriety.
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Isaac Moss – Peacock without apology is who this man is. Shining star of an African corporation has his sights set on a timeless trinket of temptation. Fine clothes, finer women, are this arrogant achiever’s hallmark accomplishing his set goals.

RACK EM DESCRIPTION -

Murder in a small French village of a grand dame of collectibles, leads to the doorstep of a Vancouver auction house. A harried, antiques dealer is the man under an added level of pressure, with prospective buyers from around the globe clawing for the heralded goods at an upcoming auction.

Pair of bodacious Italian belles and a woman of gentle grace from China proved to be something extra this unsusupecting man in Vancouver. As for their male counterparts from Austria, Spain and South Africa, they had a harder task at hand.

Each had been given their marching orders to a victorious capture of those items, no matter what it took to get their financially flushed fingers on them.

Curled lash and perfumed flesh seemed to have more entrees into this antique dealer's life, than smoking a stogie with a member of the same sex.

Seduction's game is about to break.

Question is; can a man fight temptation or join in?

Only one move is left to make. Sexy voice whispers into an awaiting eager ear, "Rack Em".

RACK EM EXCERPT -

Prologue & Chapter One

Prologue

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

Vivienne became his wife later that month. Their son Laurenz married Orlean Capelli at age 33. Grandson Charles Larionne took Charlotte Pantille as a bride in 1820. Charles' child Phillippe and his wife Ilese van Sharpone had Arielle in 1850. During childbirth, Phillippe Larionne became a widower and single father. Raising Arielle alone for many years he married a childhood friend of Ilese van Sharpone Marcellon Borneau.

1875 became a year of retelling this tale of overwhelming devotion. As 25-year-old Arielle came upon a small music box with those items stuffed into a false bottom, Phillippe retold that tale of his ancestor Pepon Larionne's unimaginable luck and Casanova's exciting entanglements.

33-year-old Arielle married Henri Rausch in 1883.Those next decades of division and destruction in Europe led Bertrand Rausch to move with his wife Sophie Devayne in 1943. Relocating to a town near French wine country Quimper was a good place to begin their lives together. Northwest of Bordeaux they opened a small bistro called Arielle's. Three years later Thomas was born in 1946.

For Thomas Rausch, life in Quimper seemed smaller than the large vista he saw himself in. At age 36, Thomas was in charge of Arielle's. With debt collectors hounding and bills mounting, Henri Rausch's grandson began slipping off a tightrope of gourmet platters and financial reality.

Still single in 1981, he existed as a man with little to show for his life. Alas, memories of grandmother Arielle's cherished belongings of beatitude brought an idea forth.

Passing by an artist studio in Colmar, he saw a man cobbling figurines. Fiddling with those items in his jacket pocket, a possible solution washed over Thomas Rausch.

For a thick handful of francs, Eduard Niemann became owner of those three bells of beauty. Rausch was able to stave off collectors for a while longer as a tiny bistro became viable once again. For As for the artisan Niemann, he acquired an elevated essence for selling the earrings pen and slice of fabric. Ironic that it would be his idolized spouse that would come to a gloomy expiration in future years in handling history's heartache.

Beneath a bitter boot of German annexation, Metz was a most turbulent location for a young Jaqueline to bud into womanhood. Jaqueline Hurlot survived Europe's cloud of blackness during years from adolescence to early twenties. In post war years she married Eduard Niemann, a Colmar native.

Years after Eduard's death of cancer Jaqueline flourished in varied forms of sales. From private collectors to storefront visitors she made her own name in this errand of exclusivity.

During a six-month period before coming to an agreement with Cross Collectibles in Vancouver, she'd negotiated sale of those items for auction with five other entities. From Europe came three persons, and one each from Africa and China.

Calling The Little Bell in Austria, Freiderich Rothsberger passed on these gems. Although, he suggested the possibility of markets that were opening in Asia the name Flower Moon was given to her.

Taking an old friend's advice talks had begun with Flower Moon. But at that point in her career, Jaqueline was unsure about Asia's stability as always a market for this particular product.

Secondly, The Red Chair in Lucca, Italy was contacted. The Italian office located near Pisa didn't seem up to its prior reputation. Blue Coastal International in Africa would have seemed a good choice for Niemann's proposal. Yet problems in negotiations caused retreat on both ends. The White Tower might have been a pleasing choice for both she and its owner in Bilbao. Spain. Pity the timing was ill-fitted.

Oddly enough, it was Vancouver based Arlington Cross that placed a perfect bidding price and commission for Niemann. Cross Collectibles had a three and a half year worth of dealings in the past.

Jaqueline Hurlot Niemann's bank in Paris was wired a plush price for sale of a trio and fat finder's fee for herself. Items were shipped via freighter from Marseilles. The arrival date would be within 21 days.

Arlington Cross would be an opportune oracle of Manon's magical jewels, which were a golden key of amorous amends.

Chapter ONE

Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Park was sparsely occupied by a pair of dog-walkers and small smattering of joggers that July day. These early morning risers included the proprietor of an antiques establishment, known as Cross Collectibles.

Every pounding of footstep against pavement, revealed his declining stamina.

The morning breeze blew Arlington's mixed brown and gray hair away from his bobbing face as he thought of what the day would hold forward. Yet, he couldn't resist thinking about his humble beginnings. Raised not far from the New Mexico border, he was an Andrews, Texas native. At age 3, he'd moved with his family to Orange Grove for a newly minted business in Corpus Christi.

His father, Thomas Keith Oliver Cross, or TKO as friends called him, was a man with big dreams of rubbing lanterns of fantasized luxury. Cross-Banks began with high hopes, for both TKO and partner Lincoln Banks. Oil exploration came to be the blissful bread and butter for the two families.

Meanwhile, Arlington and his younger brother Maxwell were steered on the right path, under the maternal wings of Bonnie Weatherly Cross. Thomas taught them to fish, hunt, and interact with many a ball of boyhood. Bonnie, on the other hand, taught them fairness, courtesy, pride, and mental acceleration. Both parents gave them lessons in life, which they retained to this date.

Moments of joy, youth, laughter, and familial bonding filled the Cross's three-bedroom home on 327 Carlyle Way. Alas, it all came to a stunted end with the caustic touch of cancer.

Bonnie Weatherly Cross had lost her battle with cancer when Arlington was 15 and Maxwell was 12.

Having moved to Vancouver at age 17, he and his brother were on a whirlwind adventure with their widowed father. Thomas, Arlington, and Maxwell got Cross Collectibles off the ground quite quickly. Within two years, Cross Collectibles became a moderately successful import and export antique company. The primary reason for this choice of vocation came with some local tax incentives and low overhead costs.

Thomas' sale of his half of the company to Lincoln Banks of Kimball, Nebraska, gave him enough seed money to travel north of the border. Ironically, that cash infusion for business opportunities in Vancouver remained a strike of financial genius by the elder Cross.

TKO finally decided to retire and let one of his sons run the family business. The younger brother had dreams of a life not in antiques. So, he was off the hook of export responsibility. But, Arlington Cross was filled with pride for his father handing him the reins at Collectibles.

With two sons to be proud of, TKO bought a home in Portland, Oregon. He lived quietly and happily, knowing Cross Collectibles was in good hands. Lawyer Maxwell Cross returned to Texas to take a position at one of Dallas's prestigious firms of legal thunder.

The gaze of Cross's brown eyes reminded many of sable buttons floating in the deep, warm waters of Galveston Bay. Wearing a pair of washed out gray sweats and a Texas A&M hooded sweatshirt, an attached Walkman gently bounced from a constantly moving motioning hip. Anyone looking at this man, would mistake him for an overly-ripened fraternity brother and not a respectable business owner on this July 17th.

As the final notes of the Allman Brothers', `Jessica', wound down, KVON's morning radio jock, Hugo Felipe announced the time of 7:14 over Arlington's music player. Clicking it off, Cross rummaged through his pockets to find the door key. The silver object slipped through his fingers and gently bounced off his scuffed, white Converse sneakers. Arlington bent down to retrieve the key.

"You're going to kill yourself with that running, young man," a mature female voice flowed from above him.

"Chayline?" He stood upright and took a deep breath. His lips formed a genial grin, "What doesn't kill me will make me stronger."

Fading red hair twisted beneath a gold and emerald hairpin. Chayline Vincent laughed, "But, boss, I don't want me to outlive you." She pressed an index finger against his heaving palpitating chest and pulled her purse over her left shoulder. "Besides, what would this place be without a Cross?"

Arlington unlocked the door, "Oh, it's all with a wing and a prayer. I hope it can be a bit better than Teak House." His foot pushed aside a small pile of mail, knowing its majority were always billing statements from varied vendors.

"Better than Bleak," 56-year-old Chayline remarked to him with a pun she often used in describing this building's color as in similarity to a Dickensian tome. But despite joking about that shade of brown with a hint of maroon mixed in, both knew that the financial state of Cross Collectibles was verging toward a miniature level of San Andreas. She followed him inside Cross Collectibles.

The previous trio of months had a decline in sales and customers for Cross Collectibles weekly auctions. Although there were specialty items that sold to heightened financial plateaus, the majority of those goods were like lukewarm beer. Things may be wanted as an afterthought by the public, but not needed. Gifts for grandmothers or that forgotten anniversary were the fare of Cross Collectibles.

"What time is Barris due in today, Chay?" he asked, scooping objects with both hands and tossing them onto the large reception desk. Pulling his sweatshirt off, he stood wearing a blue cotton tee and wrapped the hooded item around his waist.

"He should be here around…" She gazed at her oval wristwatch and quickly responded, "Around 9:45."

Opening windows in the rear of the building, Cross slightly grimaced at her, "That late?"

"Remember? His sister is coming in from the University of Ottawa for a visit?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot."

"Well, are you going to change?" She walked toward him, a headmistress attitude taking over. "Or is this the odor of the day?"

Ignoring what she was speaking about, his head cocked to face her, "Um, what did you say?"

"Come on, Mr. Forgetful," she chided. Placing firm hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the bathroom down the hall, she reminded him, "We've got a busy day. And, the early bird gets the worm."

"And not smell like one, right?" Rolling blue fabric from his flesh and grabbing a clean white shirt from a closet, Cross entered the bathroom.

"What color?" she asked.

Twisting the knob, his head popped from the cracked door. He said, "Dark brown, please."

"Good choice." Chayline pulled a pair of brown pants from a silver hanger inside the closet.

His hand darted around and pulled the pants inside. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome, Arlington."

"That's why you're the best, Chayline." Dressed in starched white shirt and dark brown pants, Arlington Cross was a man ready for the hectic workday. Cross pecked Vincent his assistant on right cheek, "Thanks again."

She playfully waved him away from her. "Now, let's get down to business, sir."

Trotting into a small kitchen area, he began to make them some coffee. "Don't I know it?" After microwaving some water and tossing a packet into a cup, Cross approached her desk. "Hazelnut, ma'am. Your wish is my command."

"Darling, you make an old lady giddy." She smiled and shoved her purse into bottom right drawer of the desk. "When Barris gets here, do you want him to start on the inventory?"

"Sure. And, after he finishes, have him come up to my office." Dragging a brown box of books towards an elevator, he made sure the mail was set on top.

Sipping coffee, Chayline Vincent stood and began to prepare the first floor for business. "See you later."

As it ascended to the fourth floor of the building, the gated elevator shook slightly. The bright capsule opened and Arlington stepped onto a dark plateau. The tip of his sneaker pressed the box across from that opening. Fifteen steps to his left, he flipped a light switch on. Opening rolling doors to his office open, Cross unlocked a small cabinet in the corner. He removed a white box from that top drawer and another pair of shoes. Resting himself into a swivel chair, Arlington quickly changed from white canvas sneakers into black suede loafers.

9:15 ticked away on a black and white wall clock in Cross's office. The clanging of the elevator opening broke the silence of surveying statements and stock. "Barris, I didn't think you'd be in until almost 10."

"Yeah, I did too." Youthfully bounding over to him, he placed a large hand outward for a shake. "Good morning. And, thanks again for the time."

Eyes of dark brown and square jaw of kindness, with a frame of over six feet, there stood Barris Hart. All this 29 year old needed was a blue ox.

As he Cross began to pull papers from a cabinet, he said, "I want you to check the stocks for these items," handing Hart those items.

"Done," Organizing white and pink papers, Barris tapped them onto a desk. "Is there anything else you need right now, boss?"

Cross became playful with Hart. "If you can make some new customers appear, then I'll take you up on that offer."

"That's a good one." As he walked to the elevator, a deep chuckle came from Barris Hart's lips. "See you in a bit, Arlington."

Two hours and fifteen minutes of peace were cracked with the sound of a braking delivery truck on Heather Street. Chayline Vincent gazed above a pair of tortoise rimmed reading glasses. The white vehicle, with ten-inch black-block-lettering, read Carrington Courier Company. It listed headquarters in Toronto, with branches located in Winnipeg, Edmonton, and St. John.

Adorned in a tomato-red jacket, with a dangling nametag on the right chest pocket and navy pants, a bearded driver with a trim build began to open the van's side door. Packages and boxes were placed onto a dolly for easy transport into Cross Collectibles.

"Let me get that for you." Gently putting her glasses onto pile of invoices, she began pulling the glass doors open. Chayline waved the man inside. "Are those all for Cross?"

"Yes, ma'am." He checked a clipboard with listings of all the packages he had to deliver in Vancouver that day. "Could you sign right here?" he asked, and put the clipboard atop the dolly.

"Sure," she nodded, quickly scribbling her name on a dozen corresponding bold lines. "Can you put them over there, please?"

Reacting with a smile, he ensured her request was fulfilled in no time at all, "You have a good day, ma'am." Placing the clipboard under his right arm, he gave a friendly salute and walked towards the opened entrance.

"I will," she said as she slowly closing the glass doors behind him, Chayline played slightly with a strand of pearls. "You have the same, buddy."

The elevator opened and Arlington approached the reception area, "How many today?" "Chay,- ah,

Soft hands placed a finger on each item, "Looks like one huge one, three large ones, five medium, and two small," She almost overlooked a singular item which had been laid aside the tower by the delivery man. "And then, there's this one," she said, giving a slight shake at a six by six sized box. From the looks of it, this small one is postmarked from France.

"Who's it from?" Banging a hand onto the largest box, Cross bent down and took an opener from his pants pocket.

"I'll give Jaqueline a call later." He ripped the masking tape down the middle and quipped, "I'm surprised it got here so quick."

"Why?"

"She said that it was being shipped from over there, from when I talked to her last week." He lifted a large vase from that box. "Oh, this is beautiful." Cradling the pricey porcelain, he walked down a long hallway.

"So, what do you want to do first?"

"This vase goes first," he said, nesting the item onto a large black table in the back room, "Grab your pad, my friend."

"I'll put this one upstairs later, okay?"

"Perfect."

Tagging this item of treasure, Arlington Cross and Chayline Vincent came to a padded sales price. "When we put it in the right light… "

"It'll glow green," she interrupted.

"You are precisely on point, Mrs. Vincent."

Barris Hart exited the descended elevator. "Do you need me for anything else, Arlington?"

"What's up, Barris?"

"Can I take lunch?"

"Before you do…" He pointed at the remaining items in the corner, "Can you take those up to the storage room?"

"No problem." Cheerfully getting a rolling cart from the room down the hall, Hart began stacking packages and ascending back upstairs.

"Chayline, you can take lunch too." Working his fingers through his hair, Cross wrote a few words onto a yellow legal pad. "Business is as light as a feather."

"Thanks." Taking her purse from a drawer, Chayline made a suggestion, "Do you want me to bring you back something?"

"A sub will do fine."

"And, do you want pickles, too?"

"Oh, Chayline, you do know me well." He beat his pen against the table. "I'll hold down the fort of silence."

Vincent grasped the door and gently spoke to him. "See you in a bit, Cross."

"Thanks." Continuing to write, Arlington closed the door and sat at Chayline's cluttered desk.

Alone, this owner of a thriving Vancouver establishment sat yawning. Arlington Cross waited for a blitz of customers and clients, to keep his lifestyle as a King Edward Avenue apartment resident, on that glittery social scene near Vandusen Botanical

His father, Thomas, had retired to a cozy cabin in Oregon. Younger brother Maxwell returned to life in Dallas. Arlington's sibling carved out quite a fulfilling life in the legal arena of Texas.

Being a bachelor could be many things to a man. As for sex, that remained a puzzle, in and of itself. Arlington remained a bachelor who had freedom to explore feminine companionship. And, he did so without abandon.

Nylons in nightclubs, bikinis on bronzed flesh, and diamond adorned bodies in his bed kept satisfaction on the smiling face of Arlington Cross.

Peach painted nails on a manicured hand approached Arlington with a coral colored envelope "Mr. Cross?"

"Yes."

Tanned, lean limbs, exposed from the mid-thigh of a green skirt, moved motioned closer. "I hear that you're having an auction in two weeks. I think there are a few items which might peak my interest to purchase."

"Really?" Rising from behind Chayline's desk, his hand reached out to hers. Cross looked at a crinkled flyer of a few months prior, up and down. "And, what kind of items are you looking for?"

"My husband and I," She returned his handshake and with moist lips added, "are in the market for exotic figurines."

Hearing of a spouse was like garlic to a penetrating vampire. "Oh," Cross changed his tone as a distinctive silver band glimmered on her wedding finger. "Well, we're putting something together soon." Arlington's inquisitive nature consumed the moment with this woman. "How did you get that notice, ma'am?"

"Mr. Cross. I do have my ways" She remarked, as her emerald eyes were fanned with soft eyelashes. Her raspberry lips parted, as did a rayon jacket to reveal ample assets to him. "Could you give me a description of what the upcoming items for auction are?"

"Ma'am, this flyer is from an old auction we had a while back," he said, putting it on the desk. Arlington began to turn a beam of investigation onto this mysterious marigold, "We've just had a shipment of Hummel. Would you like to view them?"

"Mr. Cross, I'd like you to suggest something that might suit me." She shifted soft flesh on the seat; her slight French accent washed over him. "My husband's been on a long business trip." An aura of arousal wafted around this obviously bored wife of privilege. "I wanted to give him a surprise when he returns home in a few days."

"Something different is what you're looking for, correct?"

The tip of her tongue moved against her bare teeth, as she slowly twirled a few strands of long, golden hair. "I think you're the type of man that could give a woman exactly what she needs."

"I have something that will put a smile on that lovely face, ma'am." Word play was like foreplay to Cross, as though a lump of hesitation lodged in his throat. He skimmed the thick blue catalog. "I mean, Cross has a wide selection of pieces of the obscure and erotic." Flipping past pages of statues and wall art, he found something his potential customer would enjoy. "Also, there are some masks from Morocco that we got in last week," he said, showing a picture of an object of fertility. Her body language of arousal diminished. "But, they might not be what you and your husband need."

"Why is that, Mr. Cross?" A miniscule pout formed on those berry colored lips of hers.

"They are traditional fertility masks."

Girlish giggles erupted from her. "You are quite right." Gently taking the catalog from him, she stood and placed it onto that desk. "I don't want a mask or anything from that catalog."

"How do you know? That's old." She gingerly placed her left hand on the catalog.

Cross became puzzled at her remark. "You haven't been in here before." Those brown eyes looked more intently at him. "Have you?"

"I - I didn't mean the catalog was old." Pangs of embarrassment came to her reddening cheeks as she continued to speak. "I mean to say that is outdated for what I'm in the market for."

Cross closed the catalog. "Oh, I think I can see." Arlington tried to attain further information from her. "Well, if you would tell me what kind of man your husband is, maybe I can assist you in finding something appropriate."

"He is a man who doesn't spend enough time with his wife." The seductive siren gave more intimate details to the man. "He's a man who leaves his wife alone." Pretending a flickering of bashfulness, she added, "Many a lonely and cold night, he has done this."

Arlington Cross was about to respond to this emerald ember, which sat lusciously before him as a stream of car horns began beeping on the street outside. "Some men just don't know how lucky they actually are."

"Well, I guess it's especially lucky when a royal flush is in their grasp." Her present for an absent spouse became the last item that was on her mind at that moment in time. "Lady Luck can give a winning roll of the dice." Her feminine charms came to the forefront once more as she gazed down at Arlington's affected lower half.

"Or snake eyes." Cross's erection had to be placed on a back burner. He knew the complications of mixing Cross Collectibles' business with captivating trysts and their unforeseen consequences.

Arlington Cross had a modern day vision of those magnificent Three Graces within arm's length. Yet, his lust would have to remain hidden beneath the dark brown cloth of his pants.

Mischievously, she turned up the heat. "Oh, and that's an image to ponder too."

Feeling like a marlin that had just been hooked off the Florida coast, Cross began realizing this pretty package in his business was a bit too eager to obtain that caviar ticket to a Cross Collectibles' private auction. "I don't think you and your husband will find what you're looking for at my business."

"Just because I'm married, Arlington" She brushed against his left shoulder, an offer and admission of passion was laid at Cross's feet. "It does not mean that I am a tulip with only a single petal."

Her intentions towards this stranger would seem obvious to him. She knew how to talk to any man and get his attention. At this moment in time, her sights were set on Cross.

He was flattered and horny. But Arlington's radar doubted her motives for the strong come on to him. Cross was being offered entree into an erotic encounter with a woman who appeared to be too good to be true.

And, from a cautious dealer of antiques, sometimes it was best not to make the sale, no matter what the underlying cost would turn out to be.

"What a description."

Taking a slip of paper from her purse, she scribbled. "Call me, if you have a change of schedule." She handed him the note and her luscious body slinked towards the door. She turned to him and continued, "Call me, if you've got the inkling he's not around."

"By the way," Whizzing past her, Cross asked, "What's your name?"

Her sandal-clad feet quickly stepped onto the crowded sidewalk of Heather Street as she licked her glossed lips. "Clover."

It turned out to be a first for him. Arlington Cross had just been pumped. Not for lust, but for information. He crossed is arms and stood by the door waiting for Vincent's return.

..End Of Excerpt

(Well, of course, the hidden agendas are played by winks, smiles and naked thighs throughout "Rack Em"...)

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Explore - A Poem by A.H. Scott

2012-02-21T11:27:00.000-08:00

Explore

Explore inner space
Explore outer space
Explore the wrinkles of time upon my face
Explore experience, which youth hasn’t a clue of
Explore my hands with kisses from your lips
Exploring you like a sojourner, is such a trip
Truth be told, we’re not so old after all
Few flakes of snow in your attic, doesn’t mean the fire doesn’t still burn below
Gravity sent a farewell peck on my buns and melons many days ago
Lying here together, I rest my hand on your chest
You lay your hand upon mine gently
Feels nice to know a man who can truly appreciate a woman
Not a girl am I with a giggle and vacant sigh
Nor you a boy with a constantly descended fly
Explore the moments to treasure one another
Exploring you as my lover
My lips meet your chest and make it’s acquaintance
Soon, I’ll be giving you full maintenance
Manicured nails roll onto flexing muscles
In the night of blue moon and stars, my hands are exploring your galaxy
Bodies braided lightly on that bed as we emerged in love again and again and again
Stars in my eyes, are nothing compared to the tingling in my thighs
Neither of us were chicks at heaven’s dawning
Yet, when I wanted to go one more time, it was you that started yawning
Exploring is fun
And, not just for those of slim age
Quality is an experience that gets better with time
Exploration is the care that a woman and man share when they toss away society’s clock
Morning came and we awoke in each other’s arms
Refreshed and revived, our hearts are alive
Exploring the day anew
It’s nice to share tender gems of my life with you…

- A.H. Scott
2/21/12

A HUSBAND'S SECRET IS A SILK GAMBLE.......

2012-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

.....A WIFE IS LEFT HOLDING A SOWS PURSE...

Lawrence Chase owed a debt. His wife, Angela, took a gamble. Pity for both, that losing a few dollars would be nothing compared to higher stakes in their marriage.

What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling a secret from the past.

Go "Over My Head" with A.H. Scott!

Looking at a portrait of a man and wife, the fractures of a marriage aren't easily seen. Smile and supportive caress hide the barren wasteland of a relationship.

They were a happy couple once. With fresh air and laughter. Chuckles fade. Gone is the optimism of youthful exuberance.

Blissful petals have withered on the vine of time

Symbol of an affair is permanently erased.

A wife, who has acted upon her own desires, has taken a carefree step into a world she never expected would come at the end of fate's rainbow.

She is a woman who exists amongst four joined stages of life's square. Exploration is the first angle. Love comes as the second turn of degrees. Passion takes third angle. Obligation is that fourth angle of completing the cube of this female's world.

Lace cradles creamy flesh. Yet, warts of a soul's disfigurement can never be truly obscured.

A husband's secret is the cornerstone of events, which lead to triumph and tragedy in a shortest span of time.

Veiled agendas beneath soft kisses are bitter in daylight's exposure, as intrusions of many forms take several by surprise.

Man of varied lies and devilish alibis has snaked his way into the lives of this couple. Certain word of support or smile of comfort had the effect of making all the difference in gaining entry into another's life.

Before either knows it, they are submerged in something beyond their control.

For what was a frivolous flirtation, became a shower of a heart's hidden obsession onto a floor of doom's dance.

It leads to that moment of culmination's wondering by this wandering wife to staying afloat in a marriage's rickety vessel of distress or forever being "Over My Head".

Eau Claire society had never been plagued with such a scandal.

An affair that had begun under less than pleasant circumstances, unraveled into a hazy sunset of sorrow for Angela, Nicholas and Lawrence.

The Chases' marriage had a ribbon of secrets and lies that each held closed to the other. Lawrence's lies led Angela to harbor secrets of her own to him.

In some ways, actions by her husband propelled this dutiful wife into the arms of another man.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

"OVER MY HEAD" DESCRIPTION :

Lies and secrets are like molecules of fat. They always rise to the surface.

In the swirling stew of seduction, two persons draw a wife into a web of corruption and condemnation. First of which is her husband, who harbors a secret that she has found out about. Secondly, a man whose intentions towards her have been well known for many years.

Her husband's secret is bound to a lie that the an acquaintance uses to his own benefit. This wife decides to take a gamble of her own, which leads to places that unseen consequences roam.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion.

Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father.

Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also.

Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began widdling away at this woman's self esteem.

Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission.

Events in the lives of the Chases could have taken such a different road, if only a husband told his wife the entire truth about a secret he'd been holding.

Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion.

Desire can take us to places that the heart can never capture. A simple hand out to a stranger can be all that a lonely person could ever need. Even if it were from someone you never thought would be a part of your life. In this tale of crimson conclusions and titillation's triumph, only a single notion of being submerged in an ocean of delights is whispered into a longing soul's ear.

Shall my world remain one of mendacity or should I go, "Over My Head".

"Over My Head" has a few twists amongst the pages, that will leave the reader wondering how did A.H. Scott make the pea vanish from beneath that obvious shell.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

That's "Over My Head". Submerge Yourself Into Seduction's Sea.

And, with that, A.H. Scott offers you an introduction to the players in her novel, "Over My Head":

OVER MY HEAD CHARACTERS:

Angela Carter Chase -
(Heiress and Lawrence Chase's wife)

Angela Carter had been given the world on a silver platter by her tycoon father, Arthur Carter. Even with that, this feisty woman was now a wife to an accountant, Lawrence Chase.

Even with that life that seemed very serene, Angela wanted more. In this case, more came in the unlikely form of a quite titillating restaurateur and businessman named Nicholas Bell.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

Singular event on a sexually charged night with Angela Chase at it's core, turns from a bubblegum pop song of simplicity into a Wagnerian symphony of doom within the pages of "Over My Head".

------------

Lawrence Chase
Accountant and Angela's husband

Lawrence Chase may not have been what Eau Claire society may have expected to be married to Angela Carter. Yet, he made his own luck in love's field. Being an accountant at Arthur Carter's business, Lawrence enjoyed the benefits of being married to the boss' daughter.

Chase may have been lucky in love, but when it came to other high stakes games, Larry was a loser. And, the person who sat in the catbird's seat of having this tender plum of information would be the last person Lawrence Chase could trust.

-------------

Edward Longfellow -
(Lawyer and Carter family friend)

Edward Longfellow knew the law inside and out. But, his greatest asset was an ability to read people. This came from his varied clients in Eau Claire and other locations throughout Wisconsin.

Being a longtime legal counsel and friend to industrialist Arthur Carter, Edward became privy to many aspects of the Carter family goings on.

Having known Angela since she was born, Edward had been a quite protective force in her life. Certain secrets between this lawyer and young heiress would be quite catastrophic for both of their reputations, if anything were ever disclosed.

Angela Chase confided many things to Edward, which neither Arthur or Lawrence would ever know.

--------------

Nicholas Bell -
(Businessman and Angela's lover)

Nicholas Bell was owner of a local nightspot (The Eight Ball) for many years, when he met Angela Carter. As she became Angela Chase, now restaurateur (Tulip) Bell remained a quite captivated man by this woman from afar.

Bell climbed the social ladder in Eau Claire, from the lower rungs up towards the top of that structure. Arthur Carter's nod of approval for his restaurant, proved the tide of acceptability in a higher social circle was turning in Nicholas' favor.

From a young age, Nicholas learned the best way to get ahead was to sit back and observe. And, then pounce on whatever weakness your opponent may have.

Thus, whenever he'd gotten a chance, this smart man would use information his own benefit. Be it in the form of a digits' ascendancy or cradling of perfumed skin.

Timing was everything and Bell took full advantage of that fateful factor.

-----------------

Arthur Carter -
(Tycoon and Angela's father)

Some businessman try to pretend to be something that they are not. This was not the case for a mid-Western industrialist. Arthur Carter was an arrogant man. That is a statement of fact. He never tried to runaway from who he was or how he amassed his vast fortune.

Steel was the ticket to Arthur's fortune. And, it also was the will he had to make his business a success in Wisconsin.

This was something that he'd passed down to his daughter, Angela. She'd thrived under that armor of his arrogance to her own detriment at the moment.

Arthur Carter was always fair in business. But, no one would ever be shocked if he had taken an invisible razor from his tailored suit pocket in the boardroom.

Money became a shielding column of bricks to the real world. But, there always were fissures in that seemingly solid wall that the rich built around themselves.

----------------------

Gennaro Esposito -
(NB Auto Repair manager and Bell's friend)

Primarily, Gennaro Esposito was a longtime friend of Nicholas Bell. Manager of Bell's auto repair business, Esposito enjoyed similar interests of pleasure as Nicholas.

Gennaro shared many a secret with his socially ascending friend in Eau Claire.

-----------

Iris Mendoza -
(The Cat's Paw Tattoo Parlor owner and Bell's friend)

Secondly, Iris Mendoza was also a friend to Nicholas Bell. Owner of a local tattoo parlor, Iris and Bell shared many a laugh and drink together.

Mendoza may have seemed like an unlikely ally to Bell. But, each of them knew the power of association.

-------------

Archie Hamilton -
(Bartender at The Eight Ball & Part-Time Tulip Restaurant manager)

Archie Hamilton was a man who knew all the key players in this drama. From a previous position working for Arthur Carter, to the present day employment at two of Nicholas Bell's businesses, Archie Hamilton had a faint finger on the pulse of the main characters in this novel.

Working as a bartender at that nightspot and a part-time manager at the swanky restaurant, Archie didn't have much free time to dream of a better life for himself and his family.

Yet, this man of multiple obligations did just that.

-----------------------------------

Madeline Hamilton -
(Physical therapist and Archie Hamilton's wife)

Physical therapist Madeline Hamilton worked at the local hospital. Wife to Archie and mother of two young sons, Madeline had a quite pleasant existence in Eau Claire.

Madeline's world was her family. And, even with any flaws that were behind closed doors, she would do anything to protect and love her husband, Archie.

The Hamilton's marriage may not have been sparkling. But, they were a union of stability with their two sons.

--------------------------------

Julius Baxter -
(Wisconsin court Judge)

Julius Baxter was an Eau Claire County Judge that had played a part in the lives of three of the other main characters. He knew the Carter family and Edward Longfellow had stood before him at the judicial bar.

Restraint was never truly Julius' strong point. And, one of the other characters in this juicy novel feels the brunt of his ever increasing ego.

Judge Baxter was an ambitious man, as time would prove him to rise to the head of Wisconsin's Supreme Court.

---------------------------

Ann Marshall Baxter -
(Socialite and Julius' wife)

Ann Marshall Baxter was not only the wife of Judge Julius Baxter, but thrived as a socialite in Wisconsin society. Ann wasn't a wife who bit her tongue in criticizing a spouse.

In fact, it may have been Ann's ballbusting of Julius that prompted the rise of this mid-level judge on the Eau Claire County circuit.

Ann knew that behind her powerful husband, remained a woman of charm and elegance, who wasn't above twisting a few arms in maintaining their place on that platinum peak of society.

---------------------------

Darlene Morrissey -
(Tulip restaurant waitress)

Darlene Morrissey had known Angela Carter in their years at the local Catholic high school together. Morrissey hadn't the fortune to have a rich father provide for a smooth existence for her, such as Angela had.

From Darlene's point of view towards Angela, envy smoldered within this woman who saw her own dreams of a better life doused by choices she made in years past.

So, she became a waitress at a local, high end restaurant.

Looking at them on the surface, both women were as different as a crepe and poundcake. Alas, scrape away the fluffy finery of a father's wealth and the world would realize both women were equal halves of a whole.

Beneath Angela's silk and Darlene's polyester, both had many things in common. This included a layered relationship with Nicholas Bell.

Explore the world of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head' in this extended excerpt:

EXCERPT -

FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT DESCRIPTION - Lawrence Chase has a problem. Angela Chase does not know about it yet. So, the question that arises is; how does this husband keep this secret from his loving wife?

FIRST CHAPTER ONLY

EXCERPT -

Over My Head
by
A.H. Scott

Chapter

Lawrence Chase felt himself lucky. A good job and great wife were all signs of fortune. Married to his employer's daughter, his future seemed brighter than a thousand stars. Angela Carter's passion and spirit filled him with overwhelming joy. Larry found a gem in Angie.

With light temperament and coy smile, Angela had a varied effect on every man she came in contact with. Angela's own sense of fortune, was reflected in being adored by all the men in her life. From her husband to her father, she had the persuasive gift in wrapping each of them around her manicured finger.

Yet, even with the ease of the feminine power that Angela Chase had, her husband Larry waltzed with a mistress that no spouse would ever compete with.

Lawrence's luck began to slip with every losing hand from a blackjack table at the Rabbit's Foot in 1979.

Beneath the shimmering surface of the Chases' relationship, there existed jagged shards that pricked away at the portrait of marital tranquility.

Doubts and misgivings that had been locked away in internal silence within husband and wife, suddenly began to sound once again with the jangling keys of secrets and lies.

For Lawrence, he thought staying on top of his losses at the Rabbit's Foot and a few other locations around the state, would be a secret that would be easy to keep from his wife. But, he knew in the back of his mind, that Angela would be the precious petal being betrayed by a spouse whose ego had gotten the best of him when the truth came out.

As for Angela, there were the lies that she told herself about Larry not gambling anymore. But, beyond the financial storm that had begun to swirl around her world, there remained something far more destructive than a husband's rising debt.

It was something that neither of them wanted to face head on or speak of. But, a lie of the heart would never stay buried forever.

Alas, life wasn't as placid as this couple would have wished it to be.

During a period within the first two months of their marriage in 1975, Larry's gambling debts became an accepted burden which Angie paid off. Like any other loving spouse, she wanted to help her husband with any complications that arose. Pulling Lawrence's neck out of that financial noose, Angela sold several savings bonds.

Pity this husband didn't learn his lesson back then in those blossoming days of marital bliss.

One thing that Larry didn't want to do at this present time in 1979, was to go to his wife for those funds as in prior days of their marriage in 1975 for the sum of thirty-five thousand dollars.

At an unlicensed gambling establishment off Highway 44 and 49 in Fairwater, Wisconsin, Larry's debts began to rise with several digits. He knew this reality couldn't be placed on his beloved Angie's subtle shoulders.

The Rabbit's Foot seemed an unlikely place for him to stand on that tightrope of self-destruction. Yet, there Lawrence Chase was on a June night in 1979.

Rommoulus Thorne, manager and owner of The Rabbit's Foot had physical similarities to film noir actor Sydney Greenstreet. His large frame and commanding presence intimidated many unfortunate patrons in this Fairwater gambling establishment.

One person who was on that descending scale of favor was seated at the blackjack table.

June 19th seemed like any other night at the Rabbit's Foot for this regular patron. Man who sat at the table was a slightly anxious businessman from Eau Claire, dressed in tan suit with a white shirt and black tie. Hand after hand of cards coming up short to the number twenty-one, was making him begin to squirm in of the red chairs seated around the black gaming table.

Thorne and two of his employees stood near a column nearby the blackjack table, watching the spectacle of lost bets by this single man seated there.

Born Rafik-el Rommoulus Talami, this Turkish native had been in the United States since the late 1950's. After changing his name to the more innocuous Thorne, from a trip to the Thorne Market in Fond du Lac, Rommoulus began a new life of prosperity.

Having had prior visa problems that led to a sizable fine by the IRS, Rommoulus was blocked from a full licensing of the Rabbit's Foot in 1966. Without the liquor license needed for full expansion of his business, The Rabbit's Foot would always remain on the shady side of the gambling world.

The last thing that Rommoulus Thorne needed was a blackjack table that had little to no action occurring around it. Thorne made a decision to talk to the seated patron.

Six words that no gambler ever wanted to hear came from Rommoulus Thorne, "The table is closed to you".

"Listen, just one more bet" ,pant of urgency rolled from Larry's lips, as two cards rested upon that dark green velour table top, "I've got a good feeling about this next one".

Thorne placed his hand onto the blackjack table, as fingers tapped the two cards that were just dealt to this man by the dealer, "Larry" ,Rommoulus nodded to the dealer and the neatly dressed croupier walked away from that table slowly.

Lawrence Chase had taken many an evening sojourn East on I-94 from Eau Claire to Fairwater and saw no reason to exit early.

Childish petulance came over Larry, has he wished to stay at that blackjack table, "No" ,raising voice to a level pitch where several other patrons gazed at him, Chase lowered his voice and smiled, "I want to continue".

With a diplomatic flair, Rommoulus Thorne bent over slightly and whispered downward to Chase's left ear, "Don't make a scene, Chase" ,not wanting their business to be known by anyone else on the gaming floor of the Rabbit's Foot, "I want you to stand up and come with me".

Dejected at not having a winning hand at the moment, Lawrence Chase stood and began to walk with Thorne and two other men behind him, "I just don't know what went wrong" ,shaking his head in disbelief at the possibility of a losing streak washing over him, he added "I was up 50".

The quartet walked across the gaming floor and towards the back of the building, where some offices were located. Pair of other males stopped a few feet from the last office in the rear and waited for further instructions from Thorne.

Ambling through his office door, Rommoulus waved him inside and closed the door behind them, "And, now you're down 250" ,Thorne pointed to a straight-back, black leather chair, "Sit down, Larry, we need to talk".

Slightly agitated by the owner's request, Larry sat down and sputtered, "I've got to get back out there" ,almost feeling that itch of the gambling bug nibbling at his essence, Chase gently squirmed in that leather chair.

Fairwater business owner laid this client's digits bare to him, "Lawrence, you owe the house 250" ,Thorne took the patron's history into account, "Now, I let your credit get that high, because in the past whenever you owed a large chunk it was paid back quite quickly".

Alas, for Rommoulus Thorne, past performances were negligible.
Scratching head at the thought of that debt dangling above his head, Larry exhaled with a hint of desperation, "Well, that sum might not be so easy to come up with".

"This is why you are in here" ,Rommoulus inhaled deeply and dropped a verbal bomb on Chase, "The door will not let you in anymore".

"But, I-" ,Chase paused and thought of all the times he'd been in the Rabbit's Foot over many months, "I've been a good customer to you".

Thorne chuckled at the optimistic fortitude that Chase tossed his way, "Good? Well, that's debatable" ,getting right to the core of why Larry was in that office, "Your losses outweigh your winnings".

"You know me, I'm good for it" ,Chase made no bones in the past to Thorne about who his employer was in Eau Claire. And, at this point in the waning night, he was going to use any ace of remaining at the Rabbit's Foot that was available to him.

Maybe, Carter Manufacturing Corporation held weight in Eau Claire's financial spreadsheets. Yet, in the back room of an unlicensed gambling operation in Fairwater, the only weight that mattered was Rommoulus'.

"The house can no longer cover your credit" ,Thorne rested large frame against sturdy structure and folded arms, "You are no longer welcome here".

The Rabbit's Foot's owner laid out the reality of what was happening that June night to this faltering card player, without frills or puffery.

Lawrence Chase was fitting the mold of the gambler that could see a winning hand just over the horizon. Yet, was unwilling to just give up his place at the gaming table, "I'm just having a bad streak, that's all. It will pick up soon".

"I'm sorry, Larry" ,slowly he walked behind his black Lucite desk, pulled a single paper from its drawer and placed it next to a gold ballpoint pen, "I need you to sign this note for the 250".

Lawrence Chase signed the paper quickly, thinking that he'd be able to get in a few more hands of blackjack before leaving for that night, "Now, what?"

Adorned n a light colored suit, Thorne spoke, "Don't be the rabbit, Larry", smirking at the thought of how unlucky that foot was for the hare, another bewildered beast came to this elder male's mind, "Or, in this case, the ostrich".

Larry's luck became a figment of his own ego. Being a gimpy bunny was one thing of misfortune. He could outride the losses in future months. Alas, turning into that flightless bird that didn't realize the depths of financial loss Chase actually was in, transformed into a shame that not even his wife would be told of.

Blindsided by these events in the Rabbit's Foot, he was a bit baffled with that comparison, "I don't understand".

As a man who'd known the bitter brew of revenge from his youth in Turkey, Rommoulus ruminated to Larry, "In my country, when a man doesn't pay his debts, the dawn never rises for him ever again" ,for the present moment, a tempered reaction was needed, "But, then again, Mr. Chase, this isn't my country. It's yours".

Wanting to wash Chase out of his hair, Thorne made a decision of what should be done with this unfortunate gambler. Larry had come to the end of the line.

Rommoulus walked to the door and motioned for two of his employees to enter the office. No violence would ever come from this Turk on the American shores. A dismissal of this losing patron was best for all involved, as he spoke to a pair of men, "Please, show Mr. Chase outside".

Motioning out of the chair, Larry muttered, "Are you throwing me out?" ,almost unable to believe that his time could ever be up at the Rabbit's Foot, Chase shrugged and gazed at Thorne and this pair.

One man in his mid-30's had a slim build with a dark suit on. As for the other person, he was a tall Nordic blond in his early-40's. Larry had seen them around the Rabbit's Foot many times and knew what their duties were. Sad for him, they would be acting upon throwing out the unpaying trash of this evening.

"No, no, no" ,Rommoulus Thorne became amused at this circumstance of Chase, "Think of this as a final escort" ,right hand waved Larry away, "Hope your luck changes soon, Larry" ,letting out a sigh of relief, "Good night".

To some, the stuff that dreams were made of were seen as an elusive black bird, while others viewed it as a shaky hand holding a wad of crumpled dollar bills. The latter remained foremost in Thorne's mind.

Life wasn't a motion picture in the mold of John Huston's 1941 classic. But, the similarities between fiction and reality had those moments of clarity. And, this for Rommoulus Thorne and a departing Lawrence Chase transformed into one of them.

Not giving up on his chase for recapturing any prior luck at the table, Chase walked through the gaming floor towards the front entrance with the pair of men, "Fellas, just one more round?"

Slim man in dark brown suit placed a hand on Larry's back, while giving him a slight push outside the doors, "Sorry, Larry".

"Take care of yourself, Chase" ,Tall man with slicked back blond hair stood by that open door and shook Lawrence's hand for the final time, "Good night".

Walking out into the moonlight alone, he walked to his car quickly. Chase became a scattered soul, while entering the Volvo and opening the glove compartment. Grasping a handful of objects and tossing them onto the passenger seat, Larry began flipping through several bank books in a frantic search for funds. Taking a notepad and pen from the open glove compartment, he began scribbling down several numbers onto paper. From seven different bank accounts, the total cash that was available to him at that late moment of June 19th was only forty-five thousand dollars to pay the house back with.

Ironically, it was conversation during a fishing trip with friends on Beechwood Lake that originally led him to Marigold Isle Casino for a few spins of a roulette wheel. Locals at that casino in Beechwood, were actually the ones who pointed him from Sheboygan and into the direction of Fairwater's gambling Mecca of the Rabbit's Foot.

For Lawrence Chase, that lucky symbol of a rabbit's foot seemed as unlucky for the hare as it was to his own fractured financial horizon.

Three weeks after that dismissal in Fairwater, several markers of various denominations were brought up by an Eau Claire resident. It would be that being, who would hold several former Wisconsin clients' monetary future from the Rabbit's Foot. One of which, was Lawrence Chase.

As three men sat inside an Eau Claire location on July 17th, a small pile of yellow papers were stacked in the middle of a tan colored table.

Male of caramel hue spoke to another next to him, "It's 250, right?", scribbling black ink onto white paper.

Second man nodded, "Yep".

With pen in hand, he held paper upward for the second male to respond, "Are you sure you want to keep this marker?"

"As I live and breathe", looking at that item in his friend's hand, he laughed.

Dark eyes and baldhead, gave the third man a striking appearance, "Well, the air is expensive in Eau Claire".

Man seated in the middle acknowledged that fact, "As are the ladies, Iris".

The location was the Eight Ball. Gennaro Esposito held the pen and papers, while follicle challenged; Iris Mendoza sat to the far left of the second male. And, the owner of this business, Nicholas Bell, remained the contemplative core of this trio.

For an astute acquirer of information and debts, Nicholas Bell polished those coins of cache.

He knew that someday his investment in time and treasury would bear flourishing fruit. Maybe for Bell, someday might be just across the horizon of destiny.

Unlucky person that owed that sum was Lawrence Chase.

Eau Claire lawyer, Edward Longfellow had several clients that were connected to Marigold Isle Casino in Beechwood. During a conversation with one of them, the name Chase came up. As if it were a bell ringing in his ears, Longfellow was set off on a mission to find out more. From Beechwood, a little legwork led him to the Rabbit's Foot in Fairwater.

Lawyer Longfellow wasn't just an unknown entity to Lawrence Chase. He had a connection to Larry, because of his business and personal ties to Angela's father, Arthur Carter.

Eddie finding out about the monetary mess that Larry had gotten himself into, led him to think about Angie being hurt by her husband's actions.

An unpleasant task of giving Angela Chase the grim news about her husband, was complicated by Edward knowing who owned that hefty marker.

There were two paths of existence in Eau Claire .One, which Arthur and Angela Carter Chase glided along a silken road. Two, was Nicholas Bell and his compatriots maneuvering a more gritty path. For Edward, it was this factor that made something simple suddenly complex.

Far more than just corporation counsel for Carter Manufacturing Corporation, Edward Longfellow had dual alliances with both Carters. Both professionally and socially. Second of which, were events that occurred a year after his longtime friend's daughter had gotten into some knotty legal problems.

Coincidently, the aforementioned community service that the college graduate was sentenced to didn't turn out as she expected.

Angela had a secret of her own.

- FIRST CHAPTER ONLY

- END OF EXCERPT

Behind the doors of the wealthy, there's always something stirring...;)

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Seduction Awaits,
A.H. Scott
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The Author Pages Of A.H. Scott

2012-02-09T11:07:00.000-08:00

A.H. SCOTT AUTHOR PAGES

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A LOVE FOR THE AGES - AN INTERNATIONAL ROMANTIC THRILLER FROM A.H. SCOTT - "RACK EM"

2012-01-19T11:42:00.000-08:00

ROMANCE IS ALL IN A NAME.......

Manon loved Giacomo with all her heart. She sacrificed her treasures to get him out of prison. Seems like just another couple. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, he is known more famously by his last name - Casanova......

With a little luck, romance touches the heart....

Excerpt -

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

- End of Excerpt

For what Manon and Casanova shared in the past, a modern day couple are attracted in a melange of romance, adventure & danger..

Come on the journey in A.H. Scott's international thriller, "Rack Em".

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK...;)

Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" from my publishher, Eirelander Publishing - Eirelander and also the following:

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Recapture Romance..;)

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THE QUOTABLE A.H. SCOTT - Happiness.....

2012-01-17T07:19:00.000-08:00

THE QUOTABLE A.H. SCOTT

"Happiness can be that moment you come to the realization that this is the person you are meant to be. You are this unique human being, crafted by the celestial winds. It's not from beyond your flesh, which produces this happiness. That isn't it. Happiness is when your heart beats with solace of knowing you are exactly the person that the heavens created to be. With imperfections, both seen and unseen; this is you. Of course, there are moments when happiness seems like a see-saw, which doesn't know whether to rise or descend. Reaching deep within ourselves, there is a switch that all of us must flip on. Ignited by an internal flame, your passion is revealed to all around you. At that point, your happiness is expressed freely towards others. When you can make another person happy, it makes you feel good inside, too. It's a level of being able to let your spirit completely reveal itself. Happiness is becoming comfortable in your own skin, without unease of what others may think of you. It doesn't matter what they think, for you've got that heavenly harmony in your heart. As long as your heart beats with the flame of curiosity and love, happiness is there. Happiness is yours - if you let the light in." - A.H. Scott

January 17, 2012

IT DON'T COME EASY - A RANT BY A.H. SCOTT

2012-01-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

(..dedicated to all who write...)

(...and the thieves who can't....)

I read a posting (on Facebook) about plagiarism today. And, it set me off on this rant -

Message to anybody that has picked up a pen, pencil, crayon or chalk to place their thoughts in writing: "The gift of writing is the ability (for us who are authors) to be able to forget more about what inspired us to publish our writings, than whatever someone who thinks they can steal our words & thoughts will ever imagine to remember" - A. H. Scott.....

What's in a writer's mind is beyond what actually ends up as the final product on the page. It's a hell of a lot more than that. For myself, I have works that are actually ten to twenty times deep in background; which never gets seen in my finished works. Being blunt, every word I've ever written could be erased into the ether of time and I would still know more about the crumbs of what I've written than anyone looking in for some kind of cheap rip-off could attempt to recreate. Now, I'm not trying to be arrogant at all, as I make that point.

But, I am saying that a person who writes from the seeds within their own imagination, has the power to germinate a story or poem to its conclusion of harvesting something in the public eye.

We, as the writers of the universe, have been touched by an unseen fortune to envision the sunflowers. And, for me; I'm forever grateful for my ability to be blessed with a wonderful meadow of words in my head.

So, now I turn to the dark side of the coin of creativity...

Message to anybody that has been too damned lazy to come up with their own thoughts & use their own imagination: "To all who plagiarize and think they can cheat their way to the finish line of publishing; just remember the road to creativity can have some twists and turns that your small brains can't comprehend." - A.H. Scott....

Behind the pen, the poets/scribblers/writers/authors, all have one thing that the fakers/wannabes/corner-cutters will never be able to spell - TALENT..

Talent is something that just doesn't appear out of thin air. One day you wake up and suddenly sentences are strung together like freshwater pearls. Uh-uh-uh.

Anyone involved in writing, acting, music, dance; have all paid their dues in hard work. What we all have in common is that ability to hone our craft into something we can be proud of. As in anything worthwhile in life, there are no short cuts.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

Finally, I end this rant with the words from a man born Richard Starkey. Oh, you might know him by his performing name, Ringo Starr - "IT DON'T COME EASY"....

PEACE

A.H. SCOTT

1/11/12

A FIRM HAND AWAITS - "THE SENTENCE OF ANNA" BY A.H. SCOTT

2011-12-21T08:10:00.000-08:00

Author A.H. Scott doles out a punishment of power, pride and passion in this tale of explosive encounters and ribald release.

Just Released!!

SMASHWORDS PRESENTS A.H. SCOTT'S "THE SENTENCE OF ANNA"

In 1747 France, the Duke of Givenchy, Philippe Paramour was a man of power and position. Philippe's noble title gave him liberation of his most secret yearnings of debauchery. The Duke's favorite past-time was taking female peasants under his wing as lovers and traveling companions across the French countryside.

This is "The Sentence Of Anna".

Anna's sentence at times, would have been intolerable to a lesser woman of her immature age. But, what she gained under the strict tutelage of Philippe was the skills of maturity and demure sophistication.

Enjoy this FREE sample of A.H. Scott's sexy new tale:

EXCERPT SAMPLE -

The Sentence Of Anna

by

A.H. Scott

(‘Punishment Ever So Sweet, Can Be Beyond A Midnight's Treat’)

Anna sat blushing, as she watched the sword play between Philippe and his friend, Valery. When both men finished their round of physical exertion, she rose with a silver pitcher of libation for them.

"Gentle sirs, I have brought some refreshment", batting lashes at Philippe she smiled. Hair the color of coal and skin color of champagne, Anna was a most desirable dame of decadence.

Forest green, silk dress with white lace neckline and frills at forearms, gave Anna a glow of an emerald.

She after all was Philippe’s gem.

"This pleases me, Anna", man with blonde hair held a cup and waited to be served by her.

Philippe's partner in this sword play was handed a cup and she also poured some cool liquid for him.

Being the mistress of a married nobleman in France, was a life that Anna never sought out. Alas, when Duke of Givenchy, Philippe Paramour came to her village when she was 17, this powerful man chose this raven haired young woman.

Anna's father and mother had been provided with a small monthly allotment from Philippe. By age 20, she'd accompanied him on several journeys around the countryside. Three years as his mistress gave Anna entree into a world beyond the peasant class.

Her beauty pleased him. This kept Anna a woman worthy of a Paramour.

Philippe could be harsh when Anna didn't follow his various orders for her. One of these came when staying at the villa of an old friend of the Duke's family.

The Terrance family had been equine trainers and breeders for the French royalty for over two hundred years.

Villa and stables were surrounded by a medium sized pasture on one side and a small river on the other side.

Valery Terrance's graying hair had a layering of waves atop his head. In younger days, Valery’s golden hair set him apart from his older brother with dark brown hair,

His athletic physique was quite limber, compared to portly Philippe. Both men met in their early teens. What bound them as friends was their love of fencing and females.

Philippe had brought many of his comforting companions through Valery’s villa over the years.

Anna was just the spicy flavor of this moment in April.

The Duke of Givenchy had a penchant for peasant girls to be swept up in the world of wealth and privilege, which only a nobleman could afford.

A skeleton household staff at the villa or its surroundings for this visit by Philippe and Anna were a quartet of stablemen in the connecting stables down the dusty road from the main house.

Past midnight, Valery came upon something that would make his eyes water. Terrance's villa had their doors removed during spring and summer months, which left only a partition between each bed chamber in the form of thick, burgundy colored fabric.

As the villa's owner sauntered past the bed chamber of Anna, he could hear her moaning. "Stop it, please", Anna panted.

Valery felt an impulse to see what was happening on the other side of that heavy curtain. Finding an opening quickly, his mouth was aghast.

Anna, with arms wrapped around one of the bedposts on a large sized bed, was naked and shivering as the wind blew around that luscious body.

Philippe's left hand was adorned with a thick, gold ring on his middle finger. Smacking ass, she twitched. The ring's outline was left on her soft skin. "You've been a very disobedient, Anna", he spoke with authority.

He’d turned the design of the ring on the palm-side, which imprinted a small lion upon her ass.

Anna would always be corrected by Philippe, for some things this young woman didn’t even realize

It hadn’t been the first time she’d been corrected by her lover.

Accustomed to being accosted in such ways by the Duke of Givenchy, young Anna had become a quite pliable playmate for Paramour.

"Ooh", tugging on one of the green, silk sashes that held her hands in place, "I don't know what came over me".

end of excerpt

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DIAMONDS, DESIRE & DEATH - "RACK EM" BY A.H. SCOTT

2011-12-21T08:03:00.000-08:00

A.H. Scott's novel from Eirelander Publishing - ( Eirelander Publishing) is titled "Rack Em". My novel is a scintillating excursion into the arena of international auctions. The sellers and buyers trade trinkets of varied measures of meaning around the globe.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior has led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed, the ball of the unknown is tossed across the billiard table of hidden agendas.

An interracial romance of a brash American male and charming Chinese woman is just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

For what seemed a mutual attraction between business negotiators, turned into something more intimate. Not just of the flesh, but of circumstances beyond this couple's control.

View the book trailer for A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" on YouTube - ( Rack Em - The Video Trailer)

RACK EM Book Description -

In a small, French village, a grand dame of envied collectibles has been murdered in the night, as a trail of treasure and tears leads onto the doorstep of an unsuspecting Vancouver auction house. Recaptured bobbles of devotion from two fated lovers of long days gone by, bring together varied egos into the life of an antiques dealer.

Beauty came to Vancouver, as if it were a smiling wind from across the ocean. For this harried male, a pair of bodacious Italian belles and woman of gentle grace from China proved to be something extra for him. Man and woman, who were once strangers and adversaries, became bound in each others' arms and hearts. A liquidator in fine fabric has woven itself amongst the sublime class of international buyers and sellers of collectible curios.

Seduction's game is about to break. Question is; can a man fight temptation or join in? Only one move is left to make.

RACK EM Excerpt -

Prologue & Chapter One

Prologue

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

Vivienne became his wife later that month. Their son Laurenz married Orlean Capelli at age 33. Grandson Charles Larionne took Charlotte Pantille as a bride in 1820. Charles' child Phillippe and his wife Ilese van Sharpone had Arielle in 1850. During childbirth, Phillippe Larionne became a widower and single father. Raising Arielle alone for many years he married a childhood friend of Ilese van Sharpone Marcellon Borneau.

1875 became a year of retelling this tale of overwhelming devotion. As 25-year-old Arielle came upon a small music box with those items stuffed into a false bottom, Phillippe retold that tale of his ancestor Pepon Larionne's unimaginable luck and Casanova's exciting entanglements.

33-year-old Arielle married Henri Rausch in 1883.Those next decades of division and destruction in Europe led Bertrand Rausch to move with his wife Sophie Devayne in 1943. Relocating to a town near French wine country Quimper was a good place to begin their lives together. Northwest of Bordeaux they opened a small bistro called Arielle's. Three years later Thomas was born in 1946.

For Thomas Rausch, life in Quimper seemed smaller than the large vista he saw himself in. At age 36, Thomas was in charge of Arielle's. With debt collectors hounding and bills mounting, Henri Rausch's grandson began slipping off a tightrope of gourmet platters and financial reality.

Still single in 1981, he existed as a man with little to show for his life. Alas, memories of grandmother Arielle's cherished belongings of beatitude brought an idea forth.

Passing by an artists' studio in Colmar, he saw a man cobbling figurines. Fiddling with those items in his jacket pocket, a possible solution washed over Thomas Rausch.

For a thick handful of francs, Eduard Niemann became owner of those three bells of beauty. Rausch was able to stave off collectors for a while longer as a tiny bistro became viable once again. For As for the artisan Niemann, he acquired an elevated essence for selling the earrings pen and slice of fabric. Ironic that it would be his idolized spouse that would come to a gloomy expiration in future years in handling history's heartache.

Beneath a bitter boot of German annexation, Metz was a most turbulent location for a young Jaqueline to bud into womanhood. Jaqueline Hurlot survived Europe's cloud of blackness during years from adolescence to early twenties. In post war years she married Eduard Niemann, a Colmar native.

Years after Eduard's death of cancer Jaqueline flourished in varied forms of sales. From private collectors to storefront visitors she made her own name in this errand of exclusivity.

During a six-month period before coming to an agreement with Cross Collectibles in Vancouver, she'd negotiated sale of those items for auction with five other entities. From Europe came three persons, and one each from Africa and China.

Calling The Little Bell in Austria, Freiderich Rothsberger passed on these gems. Although, he suggested the possibility of markets that were opening in Asia the name Flower Moon was given to her.

Taking an old friend's advice talks had begun with Flower Moon. But at that point in her career, Jaqueline was unsure about Asia's stability as always a market for this particular product.

Secondly, The Red Chair in Lucca, Italy was contacted. The Italian office located near Pisa didn't seem up to its prior reputation. Blue Coastal International in Africa would have seemed a good choice for Niemann's proposal. Yet problems in negotiations caused retreat on both ends. The White Tower might have been a pleasing choice for both she and its owner in Bilbao. Spain. Pity the timing was ill-fitted.

Oddly enough, it was Vancouver based Arlington Cross that placed a perfect bidding price and commission for Niemann. Cross Collectibles had a three and a half year worth of dealings in the past.

Jaqueline Hurlot Niemann's bank in Paris was wired a plush price for sale of a trio and fat finder's fee for herself. Items were shipped via freighter from Marseilles. The arrival date would be within 21 days.

Arlington Cross would be an opportune oracle of Manon's magical jewels, which were a golden key of amorous amends.

Chapter One

Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Park was sparsely occupied by a pair of dog-walkers and small smattering of joggers that July day. These early morning risers included the proprietor of an antiques establishment, known as Cross Collectibles.

Every pounding of footstep against pavement, revealed his declining stamina.

The morning breeze blew Arlington's mixed brown and gray hair away from his bobbing face as he thought of what the day would hold forward. Yet, he couldn't resist thinking about his humble beginnings. Raised not far from the New Mexico border, he was an Andrews, Texas native. At age 3, he'd moved with his family to Orange Grove for a newly minted business in Corpus Christi.

His father, Thomas Keith Oliver Cross, or TKO as friends called him, was a man with big dreams of rubbing lanterns of fantasized luxury. Cross-Banks began with high hopes, for both TKO and partner Lincoln Banks. Oil exploration came to be the blissful bread and butter for the two families.

Meanwhile, Arlington and his younger brother Maxwell were steered on the right path, under the maternal wings of Bonnie Weatherly Cross. Thomas taught them to fish, hunt, and interact with many a ball of boyhood. Bonnie, on the other hand, taught them fairness, courtesy, pride, and mental acceleration. Both parents gave them lessons in life, which they retained to this date.

Moments of joy, youth, laughter, and familial bonding filled the Cross's three-bedroom home on 327 Carlyle Way. Alas, it all came to a stunted end with the caustic touch of cancer.

Bonnie Weatherly Cross had lost her battle with cancer when Arlington was 15 and Maxwell was 12.

Having moved to Vancouver at age 17, he and his brother were on a whirlwind adventure with their widowed father. Thomas, Arlington, and Maxwell got Cross Collectibles off the ground quite quickly. Within two years, Cross Collectibles became a moderately successful import and export antique company. The primary reason for this choice of vocation came with some local tax incentives and low overhead costs.

Thomas' sale of his half of the company to Lincoln Banks of Kimball, Nebraska, gave him enough seed money to travel north of the border. Ironically, that cash infusion for business opportunities in Vancouver remained a strike of financial genius by the elder Cross.

TKO finally decided to retire and let one of his sons run the family business. The younger brother had dreams of a life not in antiques. So, he was off the hook of export responsibility. But, Arlington Cross was filled with pride for his father handing him the reins at Collectibles.

With two sons to be proud of, TKO bought a home in Portland, Oregon. He lived quietly and happily, knowing Cross Collectibles was in good hands. Lawyer Maxwell Cross returned to Texas to take a position at one of Dallas's prestigious firms of legal thunder.

The gaze of Cross's brown eyes reminded many of sable buttons floating in the deep, warm waters of Galveston Bay. Wearing a pair of washed out gray sweats and a Texas A&M hooded sweatshirt, an attached Walkman gently bounced from a constantly moving motioning hip. Anyone looking at this man, would mistake him for an overly-ripened fraternity brother and not a respectable business owner on this July 17th.

As the final notes of the Allman Brothers', `Jessica', wound down, KVON's morning radio jock, Hugo Felipe announced the time of 7:14 over Arlington's music player. Clicking it off, Cross rummaged through his pockets to find the door key. The silver object slipped through his fingers and gently bounced off his scuffed, white Converse sneakers. Arlington bent down to retrieve the key.

"You're going to kill yourself with that running, young man," a mature female voice flowed from above him.

"Chayline?" He stood upright and took a deep breath. His lips formed a genial grin, "What doesn't kill me will make me stronger."

Fading red hair twisted beneath a gold and emerald hairpin. Chayline Vincent laughed, "But, boss, I don't want me to outlive you." She pressed an index finger against his heaving palpitating chest and pulled her purse over her left shoulder. "Besides, what would this place be without a Cross?"

Arlington unlocked the door, "Oh, it's all with a wing and a prayer. I hope it can be a bit better than Teak House." His foot pushed aside a small pile of mail, knowing its majority were always billing statements from varied vendors.

"Better than Bleak," 56-year-old Chayline remarked to him with a pun she often used in describing this building's color as in similarity to a Dickensian tome. But despite joking about that shade of brown with a hint of maroon mixed in, both knew that the financial state of Cross Collectibles was verging toward a miniature level of San Andreas. She followed him inside Cross Collectibles.

The previous trio of months had a decline in sales and customers for Cross Collectibles weekly auctions. Although there were specialty items that sold to heightened financial plateaus, the majority of those goods were like lukewarm beer. Things may be wanted as an afterthought by the public, but not needed. Gifts for grandmothers or that forgotten anniversary were the fare of Cross Collectibles.

"What time is Barris due in today, Chay?" he asked, scooping objects with both hands and tossing them onto the large reception desk. Pulling his sweatshirt off, he stood wearing a blue cotton tee and wrapped the hooded item around his waist.

"He should be here around…" She gazed at her oval wristwatch and quickly responded, "Around 9:45."

Opening windows in the rear of the building, Cross slightly grimaced at her, "That late?"

"Remember? His sister is coming in from the University of Ottawa for a visit?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot."

"Well, are you going to change?" She walked toward him, a headmistress attitude taking over. "Or is this the odor of the day?"

Ignoring what she was speaking about, his head cocked to face her, "Um, what did you say?"

"Come on, Mr. Forgetful," she chided. Placing firm hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the bathroom down the hall, she reminded him, "We've got a busy day. And, the early bird gets the worm."

"And not smell like one, right?" Rolling blue fabric from his flesh and grabbing a clean white shirt from a closet, Cross entered the bathroom.

"What color?" she asked.

Twisting the knob, his head popped from the cracked door. He said, "Dark brown, please."

"Good choice." Chayline pulled a pair of brown pants from a silver hanger inside the closet.

His hand darted around and pulled the pants inside. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome, Arlington."

"That's why you're the best, Chayline." Dressed in starched white shirt and dark brown pants, Arlington Cross was a man ready for the hectic workday. Cross pecked Vincent his assistant on right cheek, "Thanks again."

She playfully waved him away from her. "Now, let's get down to business, sir."

Trotting into a small kitchen area, he began to make them some coffee. "Don't I know it?" After microwaving some water and tossing a packet into a cup, Cross approached her desk. "Hazelnut, ma'am. Your wish is my command."

"Darling, you make an old lady giddy." She smiled and shoved her purse into bottom right drawer of the desk. "When Barris gets here, do you want him to start on the inventory?"

"Sure. And, after he finishes, have him come up to my office." Dragging a brown box of books towards an elevator, he made sure the mail was set on top.

Sipping coffee, Chayline Vincent stood and began to prepare the first floor for business. "See you later."

As it ascended to the fourth floor of the building, the gated elevator shook slightly. The bright capsule opened and Arlington stepped onto a dark plateau. The tip of his sneaker pressed the box across from that opening. Fifteen steps to his left, he flipped a light switch on. Opening rolling doors to his office open, Cross unlocked a small cabinet in the corner. He removed a white box from that top drawer and another pair of shoes. Resting himself into a swivel chair, Arlington quickly changed from white canvas sneakers into black suede loafers.

9:15 ticked away on a black and white wall clock in Cross's office. The clanging of the elevator opening broke the silence of surveying statements and stock. "Barris, I didn't think you'd be in until almost 10."

"Yeah, I did too." Youthfully bounding over to him, he placed a large hand outward for a shake. "Good morning. And, thanks again for the time."

Eyes of dark brown and square jaw of kindness, with a frame of over six feet, there stood Barris Hart. All this 29 year old needed was a blue ox.

As he Cross began to pull papers from a cabinet, he said, "I want you to check the stocks for these items," handing Hart those items.

"Done," Organizing white and pink papers, Barris tapped them onto a desk. "Is there anything else you need right now, boss?"

Cross became playful with Hart. "If you can make some new customers appear, then I'll take you up on that offer."

"That's a good one." As he walked to the elevator, a deep chuckle came from Barris Hart's lips. "See you in a bit, Arlington."

Two hours and fifteen minutes of peace were cracked with the sound of a braking delivery truck on Heather Street. Chayline Vincent gazed above a pair of tortoise rimmed reading glasses. The white vehicle, with ten-inch black-block-lettering, read Carrington Courier Company. It listed headquarters in Toronto, with branches located in Winnipeg, Edmonton, and St. John.

Adorned in a tomato-red jacket, with a dangling nametag on the right chest pocket and navy pants, a bearded driver with a trim build began to open the van's side door. Packages and boxes were placed onto a dolly for easy transport into Cross Collectibles.

"Let me get that for you." Gently putting her glasses onto pile of invoices, she began pulling the glass doors open. Chayline waved the man inside. "Are those all for Cross?"

"Yes, ma'am." He checked a clipboard with listings of all the packages he had to deliver in Vancouver that day. "Could you sign right here?" he asked, and put the clipboard atop the dolly.

"Sure," she nodded, quickly scribbling her name on a dozen corresponding bold lines. "Can you put them over there, please?"

Reacting with a smile, he ensured her request was fulfilled in no time at all, "You have a good day, ma'am." Placing the clipboard under his right arm, he gave a friendly salute and walked towards the opened entrance.

"I will," she said as she slowly closing the glass doors behind him, Chayline played slightly with a strand of pearls. "You have the same, buddy."

The elevator opened and Arlington approached the reception area, "How many today?" "Chay?"

Soft hands placed a finger on each item, "Looks like one huge one, three large ones, five medium, and two small," She almost overlooked a singular item which had been laid aside the tower by the delivery man. "And then, there's this one," she said, giving a slight shake at a six by six sized box. From the looks of it, this small one is postmarked from France.

"Who's it from?" Banging a hand onto the largest box, Cross bent down and took an opener from his pants pocket.

"I'll give Jaqueline a call later." He ripped the masking tape down the middle and quipped, "I'm surprised it got here so quick."

"Why?"

"She said that it was being shipped from over there, from when I talked to her last week." He lifted a large vase from that box. "Oh, this is beautiful." Cradling the pricey porcelain, he walked down a long hallway.

"So, what do you want to do first?"

"This vase goes first," he said, nesting the item onto a large black table in the back room, "Grab your pad, my friend."

"I'll put this one upstairs later, okay?"

"Perfect."

Tagging this item of treasure, Arlington Cross and Chayline Vincent came to a padded sales price. "When we put it in the right light… "

"It'll glow green," she interrupted.

"You are precisely on point, Mrs. Vincent."

Barris Hart exited the descended elevator. "Do you need me for anything else, Arlington?"

"What's up, Barris?"

"Can I take lunch?"

"Before you do…" He pointed at the remaining items in the corner, "Can you take those up to the storage room?"

"No problem." Cheerfully getting a rolling cart from the room down the hall, Hart began stacking packages and ascending back upstairs.

"Chayline, you can take lunch too." Working his fingers through his hair, Cross wrote a few words onto a yellow legal pad. "Business is as light as a feather."

"Thanks." Taking her purse from a drawer, Chayline made a suggestion, "Do you want me to bring you back something?"

"A sub will do fine."

"And, do you want pickles, too?"

"Oh, Chayline, you do know me well." He beat his pen against the table. "I'll hold down the fort of silence."

Vincent grasped the door and gently spoke to him. "See you in a bit, Cross."

"Thanks." Continuing to write, Arlington closed the door and sat at Chayline's cluttered desk.

Alone, this owner of a thriving Vancouver establishment sat yawning. Arlington Cross waited for a blitz of customers and clients, to keep his lifestyle as a King Edward Avenue apartment resident, on that glittery social scene near Vandusen Botanical

His father, Thomas, had retired to a cozy cabin in Oregon. Younger brother Maxwell returned to life in Dallas. Arlington's sibling carved out quite a fulfilling life in the legal arena of Texas.

Being a bachelor could be many things to a man. As for sex, that remained a puzzle, in and of itself. Arlington remained a bachelor who had freedom to explore feminine companionship. And, he did so without abandon.

Nylons in nightclubs, bikinis on bronzed flesh, and diamond adorned bodies in his bed kept satisfaction on the smiling face of Arlington Cross.

Peach painted nails on a manicured hand approached Arlington with a coral colored envelope "Mr. Cross?"

"Yes."

Tanned, lean limbs, exposed from the mid-thigh of a green skirt, moved motioned closer. "I hear that you're having an auction in two weeks. I think there are a few items which might peak my interest to purchase."

"Really?" Rising from behind Chayline's desk, his hand reached out to hers. Cross looked at a crinkled flyer of a few months prior, up and down. "And, what kind of items are you looking for?"

"My husband and I," She returned his handshake and with moist lips added, "are in the market for exotic figurines."

Hearing of a spouse was like garlic to a penetrating vampire. "Oh," Cross changed his tone as a distinctive silver band glimmered on her wedding finger. "Well, we're putting something together soon." Arlington's inquisitive nature consumed the moment with this woman. "How did you get that notice, ma'am?"

"Mr. Cross. I do have my ways" She remarked, as her emerald eyes were fanned with soft eyelashes. Her raspberry lips parted, as did a rayon jacket to reveal ample assets to him. "Could you give me a description of what the upcoming items for auction are?"

"Ma'am, this flyer is from an old auction we had a while back," he said, putting it on the desk. Arlington began to turn a beam of investigation onto this mysterious marigold, "We've just had a shipment of Hummel. Would you like to view them?"

"Mr. Cross, I'd like you to suggest something that might suit me." She shifted soft flesh on the seat; her slight French accent washed over him. "My husband's been on a long business trip." An aura of arousal wafted around this obviously bored wife of privilege. "I wanted to give him a surprise when he returns home in a few days."

"Something different is what you're looking for, correct?"

The tip of her tongue moved against her bare teeth, as she slowly twirled a few strands of long, golden hair. "I think you're the type of man that could give a woman exactly what she needs."

"I have something that will put a smile on that lovely face, ma'am." Word play was like foreplay to Cross, as though a lump of hesitation lodged in his throat. He skimmed the thick blue catalog. "I mean, Cross has a wide selection of pieces of the obscure and erotic." Flipping past pages of statues and wall art, he found something his potential customer would enjoy. "Also, there are some masks from Morocco that we got in last week," he said, showing a picture of an object of fertility. Her body language of arousal diminished. "But, they might not be what you and your husband need."

"Why is that, Mr. Cross?" A minuscule pout formed on those berry colored lips of hers.

"They are traditional fertility masks."

Girlish giggles erupted from her. "You are quite right." Gently taking the catalog from him, she stood and placed it onto that desk. "I don't want a mask or anything from that catalog."

"How do you know? That's old." She gingerly placed her left hand on the catalog.

Cross became puzzled at her remark. "You haven't been in here before." Those brown eyes looked more intently at him. "Have you?"

"I - I didn't mean the catalog was old." Pangs of embarrassment came to her reddening cheeks as she continued to speak. "I mean to say that is outdated for what I'm in the market for."

Cross closed the catalog. "Oh, I think I can see." Arlington tried to attain further information from her. "Well, if you would tell me what kind of man your husband is, maybe I can assist you in finding something appropriate."

"He is a man who doesn't spend enough time with his wife." The seductive siren gave more intimate details to the man. "He's a man who leaves his wife alone." Pretending a flickering of bashfulness, she added, "Many a lonely and cold night, he has done this."

Arlington Cross was about to respond to this emerald ember, which sat lusciously before him as a stream of car horns began beeping on the street outside. "Some men just don't know how lucky they actually are."

"Well, I guess it's especially lucky when a royal flush is in their grasp." Her present for an absent spouse became the last item that was on her mind at that moment in time. "Lady Luck can give a winning roll of the dice." Her feminine charms came to the forefront once more as she gazed down at Arlington's affected lower half.

"Or snake eyes." Cross's erection had to be placed on a back burner. He knew the complications of mixing Cross Collectibles' business with captivating trysts and their unforeseen consequences.

Arlington Cross had a modern day vision of those magnificent Three Graces within arm's length. Yet, his lust would have to remain hidden beneath the dark brown cloth of his pants.

Mischievously, she turned up the heat. "Oh, and that's an image to ponder too."

Feeling like a marlin that had just been hooked off the Florida coast, Cross began realizing this pretty package in his business was a bit too eager to obtain that caviar ticket to a Cross Collectibles' private auction. "I don't think you and your husband will find what you're looking for at my business."

"Just because I'm married, Arlington" She brushed against his left shoulder, an offer and admission of passion was laid at Cross's feet. "It does not mean that I am a tulip with only a single petal."

Her intentions towards this stranger would seem obvious to him. She knew how to talk to any man and get his attention. At this moment in time, her sights were set on Cross.

He was flattered and horny. But Arlington's radar doubted her motives for the strong come on to him. Cross was being offered entree into an erotic encounter with a woman who appeared to be too good to be true.

And, from a cautious dealer of antiques, sometimes it was best not to make the sale, no matter what the underlying cost would turn out to be.

"What a description."

Taking a slip of paper from her purse, she scribbled. "Call me, if you have a change of schedule." She handed him the note and her luscious body slinked towards the door. She turned to him and continued, "Call me, if you've got the inkling he's not around."

"By the way," Whizzing past her, Cross asked, "What's your name?"

Her sandal-clad feet quickly stepped onto the crowded sidewalk of Heather Street as she licked her glossed lips. "Clover."

It turned out to be a first for him. Arlington Cross had just been pumped. Not for lust, but for information. He crossed is arms and stood by the door waiting for Vincent's return.

..End Of Excerpt

(Well, of course, the hidden agendas are played by winks, smiles and naked thighs throughout "Rack Em"...)

Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" from my publisher, Eirelander Publishing and also the following:

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Recapture Romance..;)

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A.H. SCOTT BOOKSHOP IS NOW OPEN!

2011-11-19T08:04:00.000-08:00

WELCOME
ONE
AND
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Come by & take a look around.

Novels, nibbles & free reads

are here for your viewing pleasure

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PILLOW TALK SCREWS THE 99% - POETRY BY A.H. SCOTT

2011-11-16T07:30:00.000-08:00

PILLOW TALK SCREWS THE 99%!!

Lolly was a lobbyist who did her job well
Her bank account always filled to a swell
Loopholes written by others she slid through with ease
To all of her clients, she did what she had to do to please
Paul was a politician with a Pepsodent smile
He relished his position of snorting at the public well
No one would say he was a pig
Yet, his coffers of donations continued to get big
Bart was a banker who knew all the right palms to grease
This even brought lovely Lolly to her knees
Bedfellows and bed-gals do the Potomac Mambo between the sheets and lines of morality
Those who have access to the three sides of this twisted triangle, bare a leg and a wad of green
Lolly, Paul and Bart lived for an ultimate turn of the trick
For the ones who they adored screwing the most were Jane Q. Citizen & John Q. Public
Pillow talk screws the 99%, again and again.....

- A.H. Scott
11/16/11

Stroking Sahara

2011-11-15T11:02:00.000-08:00

"STROKING SAHARA" IS OVER THE HORIZON!!!

A.H. Scott brings a contemporary romance of life's chances coming in the most unexpected moments...

Sarah had always been a spectator in her own life....

That excitement she always longed for seemed as elusive as an aromatic inhalation of luxurious lilies in a sandstorm along life's smoldering beach. Fire and desire was always within her grasp. Yet, she never truly looked at the power she held within her.

Aaaah....

But, he did.

Just when life seemed to pass Sarah by, a handsome stranger came into this woman's lonely world. Michel showed her the ways of affection and brought arousal to a dormant heart.

A single touch by a man from far away, brought life back into her soul. "Stroking Sahara" is about revisiting the desire that Sarah had in days gone by. And, with the strokes of tenderness from Michel, she does just that.

Ooooooh.....

He was the grain of sand that reignited this oyster's pearl. There are men in this world that have that charming aplomb, which washes over all they come in contact with. And, this man, who entered Sarah's life, was that shimmering star coming into this lonely woman's galaxy of tranquility.

Heart's illumination begins....

Let the ribbon of romance twirl you into the tempting world of "Stroking Sahara".

Sand soars........

Her world isn't a barren desert anymore. It's full of zest and lust for life. View the trailer here - video

Cool wind kisses your spine & Kindle is the candle to light the way.

"Let your heart take flight" - A.H. Scott

---------
Stroking Sahara -

Just when life seemed to pass Sarah by, a handsome stranger came into this woman's lonely world. Michel showed her the ways of affection and brought arousal to a dormant heart.

A single touch by a man from far away, brought life back into her soul. "Stroking Sahara" is about revisiting the desire that Sarah had in days gone by. And, with the strokes of tenderness from Michel, she does just that.

Her world isn't a barren desert anymore. It's full of zest and lust for life. View the trailer here - "Stroking Sahara trailer

"Stroking Sahara" is available through Amazon - (Kindle)

Touch Temptation,
A.H.Scott
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Rack Em - romantic thriller by A.H. Scott

2011-11-15T10:56:00.000-08:00

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK!!

ARE YOU IN?

A.H. Scott's novel from Eirelander Publishing - ( Eirelander Publishing) is titled "Rack Em". My novel is a scintillating excursion into the arena of international auctions. The sellers and buyers trade trinkets of varied measures of meaning around the globe.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior has led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed, the ball of the unknown is tossed across the billiard table of hidden agendas.

An interracial romance of a brash American male and charming Chinese woman is just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

For what seemed a mutual attraction between business negotiators, turned into something more intimate. Not just of the flesh, but of circumstances beyond this couple's control.

View the book trailer for A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" on YouTube - ( Rack Em - The Video Trailer)

RACK EM Book Description -

In a small, French village, a grand dame of envied collectibles has been murdered in the night, as a trail of treasure and tears leads onto the doorstep of an unsuspecting Vancouver auction house. Recaptured bobbles of devotion from two fated lovers of long days gone by, bring together varied egos into the life of an antiques dealer.

Beauty came to Vancouver, as if it were a smiling wind from across the ocean. For this harried male, a pair of bodacious Italian belles and woman of gentle grace from China proved to be something extra for him. Man and woman, who were once strangers and adversaries, became bound in each others' arms and hearts. A liquidator in fine fabric has woven itself amongst the sublime class of international buyers and sellers of collectible curios.

Seduction's game is about to break. Question is; can a man fight temptation or join in? Only one move is left to make.

RACK EM Excerpt -

Prologue & Chapter One

Prologue

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

Vivienne became his wife later that month. Their son Laurenz married Orlean Capelli at age 33. Grandson Charles Larionne took Charlotte Pantille as a bride in 1820. Charles' child Phillippe and his wife Ilese van Sharpone had Arielle in 1850. During childbirth, Phillippe Larionne became a widower and single father. Raising Arielle alone for many years he married a childhood friend of Ilese van Sharpone Marcellon Borneau.

1875 became a year of retelling this tale of overwhelming devotion. As 25-year-old Arielle came upon a small music box with those items stuffed into a false bottom, Phillippe retold that tale of his ancestor Pepon Larionne's unimaginable luck and Casanova's exciting entanglements.

33-year-old Arielle married Henri Rausch in 1883.Those next decades of division and destruction in Europe led Bertrand Rausch to move with his wife Sophie Devayne in 1943. Relocating to a town near French wine country Quimper was a good place to begin their lives together. Northwest of Bordeaux they opened a small bistro called Arielle's. Three years later Thomas was born in 1946.

For Thomas Rausch, life in Quimper seemed smaller than the large vista he saw himself in. At age 36, Thomas was in charge of Arielle's. With debt collectors hounding and bills mounting, Henri Rausch's grandson began slipping off a tightrope of gourmet platters and financial reality.

Still single in 1981, he existed as a man with little to show for his life. Alas, memories of grandmother Arielle's cherished belongings of beatitude brought an idea forth.

Passing by an artists' studio in Colmar, he saw a man cobbling figurines. Fiddling with those items in his jacket pocket, a possible solution washed over Thomas Rausch.

For a thick handful of francs, Eduard Niemann became owner of those three bells of beauty. Rausch was able to stave off collectors for a while longer as a tiny bistro became viable once again. For As for the artisan Niemann, he acquired an elevated essence for selling the earrings pen and slice of fabric. Ironic that it would be his idolized spouse that would come to a gloomy expiration in future years in handling history's heartache.

Beneath a bitter boot of German annexation, Metz was a most turbulent location for a young Jaqueline to bud into womanhood. Jaqueline Hurlot survived Europe's cloud of blackness during years from adolescence to early twenties. In post war years she married Eduard Niemann, a Colmar native.

Years after Eduard's death of cancer Jaqueline flourished in varied forms of sales. From private collectors to storefront visitors she made her own name in this errand of exclusivity.

During a six-month period before coming to an agreement with Cross Collectibles in Vancouver, she'd negotiated sale of those items for auction with five other entities. From Europe came three persons, and one each from Africa and China.

Calling The Little Bell in Austria, Freiderich Rothsberger passed on these gems. Although, he suggested the possibility of markets that were opening in Asia the name Flower Moon was given to her.

Taking an old friend's advice talks had begun with Flower Moon. But at that point in her career, Jaqueline was unsure about Asia's stability as always a market for this particular product.

Secondly, The Red Chair in Lucca, Italy was contacted. The Italian office located near Pisa didn't seem up to its prior reputation. Blue Coastal International in Africa would have seemed a good choice for Niemann's proposal. Yet problems in negotiations caused retreat on both ends. The White Tower might have been a pleasing choice for both she and its owner in Bilbao. Spain. Pity the timing was ill-fitted.

Oddly enough, it was Vancouver based Arlington Cross that placed a perfect bidding price and commission for Niemann. Cross Collectibles had a three and a half year worth of dealings in the past.

Jaqueline Hurlot Niemann's bank in Paris was wired a plush price for sale of a trio and fat finder's fee for herself. Items were shipped via freighter from Marseilles. The arrival date would be within 21 days.

Arlington Cross would be an opportune oracle of Manon's magical jewels, which were a golden key of amorous amends.

Chapter One

Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Park was sparsely occupied by a pair of dog-walkers and small smattering of joggers that July day. These early morning risers included the proprietor of an antiques establishment, known as Cross Collectibles.

Every pounding of footstep against pavement, revealed his declining stamina.

The morning breeze blew Arlington's mixed brown and gray hair away from his bobbing face as he thought of what the day would hold forward. Yet, he couldn't resist thinking about his humble beginnings. Raised not far from the New Mexico border, he was an Andrews, Texas native. At age 3, he'd moved with his family to Orange Grove for a newly minted business in Corpus Christi.

His father, Thomas Keith Oliver Cross, or TKO as friends called him, was a man with big dreams of rubbing lanterns of fantasized luxury. Cross-Banks began with high hopes, for both TKO and partner Lincoln Banks. Oil exploration came to be the blissful bread and butter for the two families.

Meanwhile, Arlington and his younger brother Maxwell were steered on the right path, under the maternal wings of Bonnie Weatherly Cross. Thomas taught them to fish, hunt, and interact with many a ball of boyhood. Bonnie, on the other hand, taught them fairness, courtesy, pride, and mental acceleration. Both parents gave them lessons in life, which they retained to this date.

Moments of joy, youth, laughter, and familial bonding filled the Cross's three-bedroom home on 327 Carlyle Way. Alas, it all came to a stunted end with the caustic touch of cancer.

Bonnie Weatherly Cross had lost her battle with cancer when Arlington was 15 and Maxwell was 12.

Having moved to Vancouver at age 17, he and his brother were on a whirlwind adventure with their widowed father. Thomas, Arlington, and Maxwell got Cross Collectibles off the ground quite quickly. Within two years, Cross Collectibles became a moderately successful import and export antique company. The primary reason for this choice of vocation came with some local tax incentives and low overhead costs.

Thomas' sale of his half of the company to Lincoln Banks of Kimball, Nebraska, gave him enough seed money to travel north of the border. Ironically, that cash infusion for business opportunities in Vancouver remained a strike of financial genius by the elder Cross.

TKO finally decided to retire and let one of his sons run the family business. The younger brother had dreams of a life not in antiques. So, he was off the hook of export responsibility. But, Arlington Cross was filled with pride for his father handing him the reins at Collectibles.

With two sons to be proud of, TKO bought a home in Portland, Oregon. He lived quietly and happily, knowing Cross Collectibles was in good hands. Lawyer Maxwell Cross returned to Texas to take a position at one of Dallas's prestigious firms of legal thunder.

The gaze of Cross's brown eyes reminded many of sable buttons floating in the deep, warm waters of Galveston Bay. Wearing a pair of washed out gray sweats and a Texas A&M hooded sweatshirt, an attached Walkman gently bounced from a constantly moving motioning hip. Anyone looking at this man, would mistake him for an overly-ripened fraternity brother and not a respectable business owner on this July 17th.

As the final notes of the Allman Brothers', `Jessica', wound down, KVON's morning radio jock, Hugo Felipe announced the time of 7:14 over Arlington's music player. Clicking it off, Cross rummaged through his pockets to find the door key. The silver object slipped through his fingers and gently bounced off his scuffed, white Converse sneakers. Arlington bent down to retrieve the key.

"You're going to kill yourself with that running, young man," a mature female voice flowed from above him.

"Chayline?" He stood upright and took a deep breath. His lips formed a genial grin, "What doesn't kill me will make me stronger."

Fading red hair twisted beneath a gold and emerald hairpin. Chayline Vincent laughed, "But, boss, I don't want me to outlive you." She pressed an index finger against his heaving palpitating chest and pulled her purse over her left shoulder. "Besides, what would this place be without a Cross?"

Arlington unlocked the door, "Oh, it's all with a wing and a prayer. I hope it can be a bit better than Teak House." His foot pushed aside a small pile of mail, knowing its majority were always billing statements from varied vendors.

"Better than Bleak," 56-year-old Chayline remarked to him with a pun she often used in describing this building's color as in similarity to a Dickensian tome. But despite joking about that shade of brown with a hint of maroon mixed in, both knew that the financial state of Cross Collectibles was verging toward a miniature level of San Andreas. She followed him inside Cross Collectibles.

The previous trio of months had a decline in sales and customers for Cross Collectibles weekly auctions. Although there were specialty items that sold to heightened financial plateaus, the majority of those goods were like lukewarm beer. Things may be wanted as an afterthought by the public, but not needed. Gifts for grandmothers or that forgotten anniversary were the fare of Cross Collectibles.

"What time is Barris due in today, Chay?" he asked, scooping objects with both hands and tossing them onto the large reception desk. Pulling his sweatshirt off, he stood wearing a blue cotton tee and wrapped the hooded item around his waist.

"He should be here around…" She gazed at her oval wristwatch and quickly responded, "Around 9:45."

Opening windows in the rear of the building, Cross slightly grimaced at her, "That late?"

"Remember? His sister is coming in from the University of Ottawa for a visit?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot."

"Well, are you going to change?" She walked toward him, a headmistress attitude taking over. "Or is this the odor of the day?"

Ignoring what she was speaking about, his head cocked to face her, "Um, what did you say?"

"Come on, Mr. Forgetful," she chided. Placing firm hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the bathroom down the hall, she reminded him, "We've got a busy day. And, the early bird gets the worm."

"And not smell like one, right?" Rolling blue fabric from his flesh and grabbing a clean white shirt from a closet, Cross entered the bathroom.

"What color?" she asked.

Twisting the knob, his head popped from the cracked door. He said, "Dark brown, please."

"Good choice." Chayline pulled a pair of brown pants from a silver hanger inside the closet.

His hand darted around and pulled the pants inside. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome, Arlington."

"That's why you're the best, Chayline." Dressed in starched white shirt and dark brown pants, Arlington Cross was a man ready for the hectic workday. Cross pecked Vincent his assistant on right cheek, "Thanks again."

She playfully waved him away from her. "Now, let's get down to business, sir."

Trotting into a small kitchen area, he began to make them some coffee. "Don't I know it?" After microwaving some water and tossing a packet into a cup, Cross approached her desk. "Hazelnut, ma'am. Your wish is my command."

"Darling, you make an old lady giddy." She smiled and shoved her purse into bottom right drawer of the desk. "When Barris gets here, do you want him to start on the inventory?"

"Sure. And, after he finishes, have him come up to my office." Dragging a brown box of books towards an elevator, he made sure the mail was set on top.

Sipping coffee, Chayline Vincent stood and began to prepare the first floor for business. "See you later."

As it ascended to the fourth floor of the building, the gated elevator shook slightly. The bright capsule opened and Arlington stepped onto a dark plateau. The tip of his sneaker pressed the box across from that opening. Fifteen steps to his left, he flipped a light switch on. Opening rolling doors to his office open, Cross unlocked a small cabinet in the corner. He removed a white box from that top drawer and another pair of shoes. Resting himself into a swivel chair, Arlington quickly changed from white canvas sneakers into black suede loafers.

9:15 ticked away on a black and white wall clock in Cross's office. The clanging of the elevator opening broke the silence of surveying statements and stock. "Barris, I didn't think you'd be in until almost 10."

"Yeah, I did too." Youthfully bounding over to him, he placed a large hand outward for a shake. "Good morning. And, thanks again for the time."

Eyes of dark brown and square jaw of kindness, with a frame of over six feet, there stood Barris Hart. All this 29 year old needed was a blue ox.

As he Cross began to pull papers from a cabinet, he said, "I want you to check the stocks for these items," handing Hart those items.

"Done," Organizing white and pink papers, Barris tapped them onto a desk. "Is there anything else you need right now, boss?"

Cross became playful with Hart. "If you can make some new customers appear, then I'll take you up on that offer."

"That's a good one." As he walked to the elevator, a deep chuckle came from Barris Hart's lips. "See you in a bit, Arlington."

Two hours and fifteen minutes of peace were cracked with the sound of a braking delivery truck on Heather Street. Chayline Vincent gazed above a pair of tortoise rimmed reading glasses. The white vehicle, with ten-inch black-block-lettering, read Carrington Courier Company. It listed headquarters in Toronto, with branches located in Winnipeg, Edmonton, and St. John.

Adorned in a tomato-red jacket, with a dangling nametag on the right chest pocket and navy pants, a bearded driver with a trim build began to open the van's side door. Packages and boxes were placed onto a dolly for easy transport into Cross Collectibles.

"Let me get that for you." Gently putting her glasses onto pile of invoices, she began pulling the glass doors open. Chayline waved the man inside. "Are those all for Cross?"

"Yes, ma'am." He checked a clipboard with listings of all the packages he had to deliver in Vancouver that day. "Could you sign right here?" he asked, and put the clipboard atop the dolly.

"Sure," she nodded, quickly scribbling her name on a dozen corresponding bold lines. "Can you put them over there, please?"

Reacting with a smile, he ensured her request was fulfilled in no time at all, "You have a good day, ma'am." Placing the clipboard under his right arm, he gave a friendly salute and walked towards the opened entrance.

"I will," she said as she slowly closing the glass doors behind him, Chayline played slightly with a strand of pearls. "You have the same, buddy."

The elevator opened and Arlington approached the reception area, "How many today?" "Chay?"

Soft hands placed a finger on each item, "Looks like one huge one, three large ones, five medium, and two small," She almost overlooked a singular item which had been laid aside the tower by the delivery man. "And then, there's this one," she said, giving a slight shake at a six by six sized box. From the looks of it, this small one is postmarked from France.

"Who's it from?" Banging a hand onto the largest box, Cross bent down and took an opener from his pants pocket.

"I'll give Jaqueline a call later." He ripped the masking tape down the middle and quipped, "I'm surprised it got here so quick."

"Why?"

"She said that it was being shipped from over there, from when I talked to her last week." He lifted a large vase from that box. "Oh, this is beautiful." Cradling the pricey porcelain, he walked down a long hallway.

"So, what do you want to do first?"

"This vase goes first," he said, nesting the item onto a large black table in the back room, "Grab your pad, my friend."

"I'll put this one upstairs later, okay?"

"Perfect."

Tagging this item of treasure, Arlington Cross and Chayline Vincent came to a padded sales price. "When we put it in the right light… "

"It'll glow green," she interrupted.

"You are precisely on point, Mrs. Vincent."

Barris Hart exited the descended elevator. "Do you need me for anything else, Arlington?"

"What's up, Barris?"

"Can I take lunch?"

"Before you do…" He pointed at the remaining items in the corner, "Can you take those up to the storage room?"

"No problem." Cheerfully getting a rolling cart from the room down the hall, Hart began stacking packages and ascending back upstairs.

"Chayline, you can take lunch too." Working his fingers through his hair, Cross wrote a few words onto a yellow legal pad. "Business is as light as a feather."

"Thanks." Taking her purse from a drawer, Chayline made a suggestion, "Do you want me to bring you back something?"

"A sub will do fine."

"And, do you want pickles, too?"

"Oh, Chayline, you do know me well." He beat his pen against the table. "I'll hold down the fort of silence."

Vincent grasped the door and gently spoke to him. "See you in a bit, Cross."

"Thanks." Continuing to write, Arlington closed the door and sat at Chayline's cluttered desk.

Alone, this owner of a thriving Vancouver establishment sat yawning. Arlington Cross waited for a blitz of customers and clients, to keep his lifestyle as a King Edward Avenue apartment resident, on that glittery social scene near Vandusen Botanical

His father, Thomas, had retired to a cozy cabin in Oregon. Younger brother Maxwell returned to life in Dallas. Arlington's sibling carved out quite a fulfilling life in the legal arena of Texas.

Being a bachelor could be many things to a man. As for sex, that remained a puzzle, in and of itself. Arlington remained a bachelor who had freedom to explore feminine companionship. And, he did so without abandon.

Nylons in nightclubs, bikinis on bronzed flesh, and diamond adorned bodies in his bed kept satisfaction on the smiling face of Arlington Cross.

Peach painted nails on a manicured hand approached Arlington with a coral colored envelope "Mr. Cross?"

"Yes."

Tanned, lean limbs, exposed from the mid-thigh of a green skirt, moved motioned closer. "I hear that you're having an auction in two weeks. I think there are a few items which might peak my interest to purchase."

"Really?" Rising from behind Chayline's desk, his hand reached out to hers. Cross looked at a crinkled flyer of a few months prior, up and down. "And, what kind of items are you looking for?"

"My husband and I," She returned his handshake and with moist lips added, "are in the market for exotic figurines."

Hearing of a spouse was like garlic to a penetrating vampire. "Oh," Cross changed his tone as a distinctive silver band glimmered on her wedding finger. "Well, we're putting something together soon." Arlington's inquisitive nature consumed the moment with this woman. "How did you get that notice, ma'am?"

"Mr. Cross. I do have my ways" She remarked, as her emerald eyes were fanned with soft eyelashes. Her raspberry lips parted, as did a rayon jacket to reveal ample assets to him. "Could you give me a description of what the upcoming items for auction are?"

"Ma'am, this flyer is from an old auction we had a while back," he said, putting it on the desk. Arlington began to turn a beam of investigation onto this mysterious marigold, "We've just had a shipment of Hummel. Would you like to view them?"

"Mr. Cross, I'd like you to suggest something that might suit me." She shifted soft flesh on the seat; her slight French accent washed over him. "My husband's been on a long business trip." An aura of arousal wafted around this obviously bored wife of privilege. "I wanted to give him a surprise when he returns home in a few days."

"Something different is what you're looking for, correct?"

The tip of her tongue moved against her bare teeth, as she slowly twirled a few strands of long, golden hair. "I think you're the type of man that could give a woman exactly what she needs."

"I have something that will put a smile on that lovely face, ma'am." Word play was like foreplay to Cross, as though a lump of hesitation lodged in his throat. He skimmed the thick blue catalog. "I mean, Cross has a wide selection of pieces of the obscure and erotic." Flipping past pages of statues and wall art, he found something his potential customer would enjoy. "Also, there are some masks from Morocco that we got in last week," he said, showing a picture of an object of fertility. Her body language of arousal diminished. "But, they might not be what you and your husband need."

"Why is that, Mr. Cross?" A minuscule pout formed on those berry colored lips of hers.

"They are traditional fertility masks."

Girlish giggles erupted from her. "You are quite right." Gently taking the catalog from him, she stood and placed it onto that desk. "I don't want a mask or anything from that catalog."

"How do you know? That's old." She gingerly placed her left hand on the catalog.

Cross became puzzled at her remark. "You haven't been in here before." Those brown eyes looked more intently at him. "Have you?"

"I - I didn't mean the catalog was old." Pangs of embarrassment came to her reddening cheeks as she continued to speak. "I mean to say that is outdated for what I'm in the market for."

Cross closed the catalog. "Oh, I think I can see." Arlington tried to attain further information from her. "Well, if you would tell me what kind of man your husband is, maybe I can assist you in finding something appropriate."

"He is a man who doesn't spend enough time with his wife." The seductive siren gave more intimate details to the man. "He's a man who leaves his wife alone." Pretending a flickering of bashfulness, she added, "Many a lonely and cold night, he has done this."

Arlington Cross was about to respond to this emerald ember, which sat lusciously before him as a stream of car horns began beeping on the street outside. "Some men just don't know how lucky they actually are."

"Well, I guess it's especially lucky when a royal flush is in their grasp." Her present for an absent spouse became the last item that was on her mind at that moment in time. "Lady Luck can give a winning roll of the dice." Her feminine charms came to the forefront once more as she gazed down at Arlington's affected lower half.

"Or snake eyes." Cross's erection had to be placed on a back burner. He knew the complications of mixing Cross Collectibles' business with captivating trysts and their unforeseen consequences.

Arlington Cross had a modern day vision of those magnificent Three Graces within arm's length. Yet, his lust would have to remain hidden beneath the dark brown cloth of his pants.

Mischievously, she turned up the heat. "Oh, and that's an image to ponder too."

Feeling like a marlin that had just been hooked off the Florida coast, Cross began realizing this pretty package in his business was a bit too eager to obtain that caviar ticket to a Cross Collectibles' private auction. "I don't think you and your husband will find what you're looking for at my business."

"Just because I'm married, Arlington" She brushed against his left shoulder, an offer and admission of passion was laid at Cross's feet. "It does not mean that I am a tulip with only a single petal."

Her intentions towards this stranger would seem obvious to him. She knew how to talk to any man and get his attention. At this moment in time, her sights were set on Cross.

He was flattered and horny. But Arlington's radar doubted her motives for the strong come on to him. Cross was being offered entree into an erotic encounter with a woman who appeared to be too good to be true.

And, from a cautious dealer of antiques, sometimes it was best not to make the sale, no matter what the underlying cost would turn out to be.

"What a description."

Taking a slip of paper from her purse, she scribbled. "Call me, if you have a change of schedule." She handed him the note and her luscious body slinked towards the door. She turned to him and continued, "Call me, if you've got the inkling he's not around."

"By the way," Whizzing past her, Cross asked, "What's your name?"

Her sandal-clad feet quickly stepped onto the crowded sidewalk of Heather Street as she licked her glossed lips. "Clover."

It turned out to be a first for him. Arlington Cross had just been pumped. Not for lust, but for information. He crossed is arms and stood by the door waiting for Vincent's return.

..End Of Excerpt

(Well, of course, the hidden agendas are played by winks, smiles and naked thighs throughout "Rack Em"...)

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Behind The Doors Of The Wealthy...There's Always Something Stirring: "Over My Head" by A.H. Scott

2011-10-27T11:39:00.000-07:00

SMASH CONVENTIONALITY WITH A.H. SCOTT !!

A new novel from A.H. Scott - Over My Head"

A wife. A husband. A lover. Secrets. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion. Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father. Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also. Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began twiddling away at this woman's self esteem. Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission. Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion....

A.H. Scott invites you to read the first 50 pages of my new novel, "Over My Head" for FREE!! Enjoy this nibble of my novel..;)

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EXCERPT

Chapter

Angela and Nicholas didn't travel in the same social circles in Eau Claire. Yet, over the years, each had been cordial in many a public event. Maybe being a charming woman to every person she'd met, would give her a leg up in assisting Lawrence's debt to becoming just an unpleasant memory.

Parking down the street, a few quickened steps would bring Angie face to face with the person who held Larry's marker in the palm of his hand.

As if some things never changed, that flashy red spider was once again parked outside of the Eight Ball on July 21st.

Motioning inside, Chase gazed to the right and saw the booth that she'd sat at with those weeks before her eighteenth birthday. To Angela's left, an unattended bar had a trio of paper coasters strewn about it.

Marty Balin's milky voice washed over an entering Angela Carter Chase, as she walked towards that bar. On a jukebox to her right, "Count On Me" played moderately in this almost empty establishment. Jefferson Airplane's melody filled that July afternoon's air. For this motivated wife, Angela quite aptly understood meaning of those lyrics. Larry could always count on Angie.

Slightly bending neck and head over the bar's edge, Angela spoke with familiarity, "Archie? Is that you?"

Archie Hamilton placed several inventory slips down on an empty crate and looked around to see where that light voice came from. Quite taken aback at Angela Carter's presence in this location, he moderately uttered, "Angela Carter? What are you doing here?"

Turning hesitation to a happy smile, Hamilton added, "You haven't been in these parts in a long time. It's good to see you again".

Relieved to see this acquaintance, Angela returned a subtle smile, "You too, Archie. It's good to see a friendly face".

Standing upright, he grasped the papers and put them onto that bar counter, "So, can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, I'm not here for that", Angela was determined to get through this unpleasant task rapidly, as brown eyes gazed towards a pool table area in back, "Is Nicholas here?"

"Nick?", carelessly shrugging at hearing the reason why this female was there, Archie calmly conveyed Bell's whereabouts, "Sure, he's in the back".

Slim form in white dress cautiously moved near the billiard tables and smiled back at this mellow barkeep, "Thank you, Archie".

"Listen, Angela", calling out to her, he smiled, "I could have him come out here and talk to you", walking out from behind that bar, Hamilton could sense a glimmer of discomfort in this brunette's hesitation to be in Nicholas Bell's establishment, "It would be no problem".

"Thanks for your kindness", nibbling bottom lip, Angela started to walk away, "I've got this situation in control".

"Angela?"

"Yes, Archie", flipping head and hair to face him, this woman replied.

"Take it easy, okay", Hamilton smiled.

"I will", woman on a mission motioned to the back of the Eight Ball.

White pumps tapped against green tiles, as she saw Gennaro Esposito and two other men playing a game of pool with Nicholas Bell.

As Nick has his back to an approaching Angela fifteen feet away, Espo nodded head to get him to turn around. The holder of that large debt would see for himself what the Rabbit's Foot had dragged in. A white pearl from shoe to dress stood in an arena of ash and dim lighting.

Lawrence Chase's losing streak in an unlicensed Fairwater casino had led his wife to this unlikely place. Fabric of lightest color revealed more about the lady who wore that dress.

She was queen of diamonds in a deck of destiny that he'd frittered away. In a high stakes game of a husband's multiple hands of poor choices, Angela held onto the wildest card of all.

Nicholas Bell's life of varied fortune had proceeded with an abundant arrival of Angela Carter Chase.

Dressed in black tee and pants, Nick slowly twisted himself around, "Right on time", softly whispering to Espo.

"An hourglass, my friend", Esposito sighed at the sight of such beauty in their midst, while moving towards those other two men.

Butterfly of mixed emotions that fluttered in her throat were swallowed and confidence emerged from Angela's soft lips, while stationed on one side of that pool table, "Hello, Nicholas".

A false air of being surprised at her sight filled Nick's voice, as he spoke to this woman in white, "Angela, it's good to see you again".

"Gee, that's what Archie just said to me", Chase felt a bit of gallows's humor would break the ice of this awkward moment of being reintroduced to him, "Can we talk?"

"Surely", Nick rested pool stick against table and grinned at her, "We can sit over in one of the booths", pointing towards that almost empty bar area.

Angela was pleased at his offer, but declined, "I'd like to speak with you in private".

"Private?", Bell was puzzled with Chase's request to be alone with him. Yet, he knew exactly why that conversation would need to be without an audience, "No one will bother us when we sit down to talk", slyly winking over at a trusted friend, who knew what was actually going on, "Isn't that right, Gennaro?"

Adorned in white, silk shirt and tan pants, this male had the appearance of a tropical toreador. Putting away pool stick in rack, he looked like a cool coconut cocktail to her.

Gennaro Esposito had known Angela from being acquainted with her at various public events, "Oh, yeah", giving a smile to this attractive visitor, Espo rolled out the welcome mat to their unfiltered world, "Hello, Angela You look like a blue cloud of joy".

"Hi, Gennaro", polite to a fault, Arthur Carter's daughter smiled back, "Thanks for the compliment", returning to the point of this visit in the first place, "Please, Nick. I really need to talk to you, alone".

"Hey, how can I resist a request from such a lovely lady", nodding head in direction of Esposito, he added, "Hold all my calls, Espo", holding right hand outward to Angela, this male in his 30's pointed towards a back office, "We can talk in my office".

Angela Carter Chase slowly sauntered down a small hallway that led to Bell's office, as he followed behind her in the mode of a wolf salivating at a juicy mouse. Nicholas turned head and winked back at a stationary, smiling Gennaro Esposito.

As this woman entered that office, Nick closed the door behind her, "Please, have a seat, Angela".

"I think I'll stand", calmly replying to Bell's offer.

"It's your decision", smiling at her, he sat down behind his desk, "Well, how cliché it would be of me to ask", slightly snickering in a quizzical tone, "But, what brings you by?"

Angela pulled a few loosened strands of hair behind her ear, as she took a deep breath, "I think you know why I'm here, Nicholas".

"Angela, Angela", with glint of cheer in his voice, he cleaned teeth minutely, "You remember all my friends call me Nick", remembering their meeting years prior.

"Okay", uttering a modest sigh, she relented, "Nick, you do know why I'm here", fidgeting fingers began tapping against white purse, "My husband".

"Maybe you should spell it out for me, Mrs. Chase", letting Angela feel a quick sting of hearing herself as the spouse of an unlucky gambler.

Wife in white wardrobe placed her cards of purpose onto Nick Bell's desk, "I'm here to talk to you about Lawrence's debt".

Brows arched in response, "Ah, so I guess your husband can't handle this himself?", unable to avoid chuckling at this vision of loveliness taking on a responsibility of paying Larry's losses off.

"That's not funny, Nick", taking a small inhalation of courage, Angela turned rigid in place.

Seeing this female's frigid air about her, Bell used a few words of accommodation, "Have a seat, Angela".

"I'm fine standing", not wanting to chitchat with this male of dubious demeanor, Chase stood still.

"Sit down, Angie", with a statement of ordering his visitor to recline into a chair, Nick smiled at Angie in a mixture of smoothness and rocky resolution, "This is going to be done under my terms", placing palm out in a motion for her to relax, he let this female know exactly who she was dealing with, "And, definitely not yours".

Arthur Carter's daughter had the air of a profitable lineage, which Nicholas Bell hadn't been in contact with in many a year. Members of Eau Claire's society would not look down the Eight Ball's owner again.

Slowly her body rested into a chair, "Okay, so now I'm sitting here", giving this male compliance.

"You see, Angela", glad of the way she heeded that insistence of descending action, Nick grinned with sense of relief, "Everyone can comply when they want to".

END OF EXCERPT

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Behind the doors of the wealthy, sexual encounters of the shocking kind are always stirring....;)

STIR WITH A.H. SCOTT..;)

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Seduction Awaits,
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Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time..: "Rack Em" by A.H. Scott

2011-10-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK!!

A.H. Scott's novel from Eirelander Publishing - ( Eirelander Publishing) is titled "Rack Em". My novel is a scintillating excursion into the arena of international auctions. The sellers and buyers trade trinkets of varied measures of meaning around the globe.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior has led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed, the ball of the unknown is tossed across the billiard table of hidden agendas.

An interracial romance of a brash American male and charming Chinese woman is just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

For what seemed a mutual attraction between business negotiators, turned into something more intimate. Not just of the flesh, but of circumstances beyond this couple's control.
View the book traler for A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" on YouTube - ( "Rack Em - The Video Book Trailer)

RACK EM Book Description -

In a small, French village, a grand dame of envied collectibles has been murdered in the night, as a trail of treasure and tears leads onto the doorstep of an unsuspecting Vancouver auction house. Recaptured bobbles of devotion from two fated lovers of long days gone by, bring together varied egos into the life of an antiques dealer.

Beauty came to Vancouver, as if it were a smiling wind from across the ocean. For this harried male, a pair of bodacious Italian belles and woman of gentle grace from China proved to be something extra for him. Man and woman, who were once strangers and adversaries, became bound in each others' arms and hearts. A liquidator in fine fabric has woven itself amongst the sublime class of international buyers and sellers of collectible curios.

Seduction's game is about to break. Question is; can a man fight temptation or join in? Only one move is left to make.

RACK EM Excerpt -

Prologue & Chapter One

Prologue

Romance is beyond the bounds of time.

Three years after Giacomo Casanova's release from Paris' Fort-l'Eveque in 1758, a nonchalant conversation between the prison's warden and a guard was overheard.

A 16-year-old jail cleaner, Pepon Larionne, was in the process of collecting garbage in the hallway outside of Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne's office, while the warden and longtime prison guard, Edgar DeSaviage continued speaking to each other inside.

Pepon was one of three men who had the task of cleaning the warden's office, guard tower, and guard barracks. This night, it was Larionne's job to handle the outer hallway, which led to Lieutenant Arrieyenne's office. The other two jail cleaners had already started going towards the barracks. This young man, who seemed an unlikely vessel of history, became Cupid's messenger.

It was at this moment in 1761, when Pepon's fate changed for the better. Lieutenant Arrieyenne spoke to Edgar DeSaviage about Casanova's imprisonment and release in 1758. Manon Balletti, one of Giacomo Casanova's great loves, procured his freedom with a pair of diamond earrings in 1758.

The fabled lover had received mercy from a long prison sentence at the bequest of a beautiful woman. And, this is the story which followed through the years.

Preparing his office for the cleaners, Lieutenant Hugo Arrieyenne and guard Edgar DeSaviage emptied out desk drawers onto the floor, revealing several varied sized items, including a small canvas satchel.

As Pepon entered the warden's office, he kept his head low and mouth shut in their presence. The lowly jail cleaner scooped up bits of food, papers, and that canvas satchel with his hands.

The warden and guard stood chuckling at the dirty work which Pepon had to accomplish as they turned their backs on him and went back to speaking about Casanova and the diamond earrings.

Finishing up the cleaning of Arrieyenne's office, Pepon excused himself and grasped a large canvas sack full of garbage. In the hallway outside of the office, another large sack of trash was gathered by Larionne. Pulling the sacks behind him, Pepon left through the lantern lit prison entrance.

Larionne joined up with his fellow jail cleaners in the courtyard near the guard barracks. He never told the others about the tale of Casanova and Manon Balletti's connection to Fort-l'Eveque. Yet, it remained in the back of his mind, while taking his share of the sacks of garbage down towards an incline to be dumped.

Something that the warden and guard didn't realize when tossing out the desk contents onto the floor was the small satchel that contained those precious items of devotion from Manon to the previous prison warden.

What had been tossed out amongst spoiled food, soiled sheets and vomit, were the pair of diamond earrings. Pepon was also unaware of the situation, until shaking the canvas sack empty. A final item remained in the bottom of the sack. As the satchel revealed its contents, Larionne's eyes were affixed on a pair of earrings, a pen, and a slip of fabric as the satchel revealed its contents.

The simple man of bare means retrieved the trio of items and silently finished his duties for the night. His fellow cleaners were none the wiser for Pepon Larionne's fantastic find.

A conversation which he'd overheard from Arrieyenne and DeSaviage was not just a myth. But a reality, which was now wrapped in a dingy cloth with spots of mucus against Pepon Larionne's body.

The items weren't contained in a satin lined mahogany box to be delivered to a royal consort. But, they were transported within a filthy, loosened blouse of a lowly peasant.

Returning to his small cottage Pepon placed small sack into maple table. Alongside those earrings of Manon, a quill pen and square of lace were laid out by Pepon. The peacock feathers gave Pepon visions of Manon and Casanova's tandem pen craft. Just to imagine what each would place to paper remained more than enough for this the young man's imagination. The slight scent of lavender remained upon that lace.

Night turned to morn as he left the cottage for a short journey.

Pepon Larionne's only thoughts were to give this newly found gift to his beloved Vivienne Coupette. The sixteen-year old woman with a gentle smile was the core of Pepon's undying devotion. Maybe some of the herald grace of Manon and Casanova's love would rub off on Pepon Larionne.

The prison jail cleaner would never be King of France. But as he presented the diamond earrings, quill pen, and sliver of lace to the lady he loved, Pepon Larionne would be forever the prince of Vivienne's heart.

Vivienne became his wife later that month. Their son Laurenz married Orlean Capelli at age 33. Grandson Charles Larionne took Charlotte Pantille as a bride in 1820. Charles' child Phillippe and his wife Ilese van Sharpone had Arielle in 1850. During childbirth, Phillippe Larionne became a widower and single father. Raising Arielle alone for many years he married a childhood friend of Ilese van Sharpone Marcellon Borneau.

1875 became a year of retelling this tale of overwhelming devotion. As 25-year-old Arielle came upon a small music box with those items stuffed into a false bottom, Phillippe retold that tale of his ancestor Pepon Larionne's unimaginable luck and Casanova's exciting entanglements.

33-year-old Arielle married Henri Rausch in 1883.Those next decades of division and destruction in Europe led Bertrand Rausch to move with his wife Sophie Devayne in 1943. Relocating to a town near French wine country Quimper was a good place to begin their lives together. Northwest of Bordeaux they opened a small bistro called Arielle's. Three years later Thomas was born in 1946.

For Thomas Rausch, life in Quimper seemed smaller than the large vista he saw himself in. At age 36, Thomas was in charge of Arielle's. With debt collectors hounding and bills mounting, Henri Rausch's grandson began slipping off a tightrope of gourmet platters and financial reality.

Still single in 1981, he existed as a man with little to show for his life. Alas, memories of grandmother Arielle's cherished belongings of beatitude brought an idea forth.

Passing by an artist studio in Colmar, he saw a man cobbling figurines. Fiddling with those items in his jacket pocket, a possible solution washed over Thomas Rausch.

For a thick handful of francs, Eduard Niemann became owner of those three bells of beauty. Rausch was able to stave off collectors for a while longer as a tiny bistro became viable once again. For As for the artisan Niemann, he acquired an elevated essence for selling the earrings pen and slice of fabric. Ironic that it would be his idolized spouse that would come to a gloomy expiration in future years in handling history's heartache.

Beneath a bitter boot of German annexation, Metz was a most turbulent location for a young Jaqueline to bud into womanhood. Jaqueline Hurlot survived Europe's cloud of blackness during years from adolescence to early twenties. In post war years she married Eduard Niemann, a Colmar native.

Years after Eduard's death of cancer Jaqueline flourished in varied forms of sales. From private collectors to storefront visitors she made her own name in this errand of exclusivity.

During a six-month period before coming to an agreement with Cross Collectibles in Vancouver, she'd negotiated sale of those items for auction with five other entities. From Europe came three persons, and one each from Africa and China.

Calling The Little Bell in Austria, Freiderich Rothsberger passed on these gems. Although, he suggested the possibility of markets that were opening in Asia the name Flower Moon was given to her.

Taking an old friend's advice talks had begun with Flower Moon. But at that point in her career, Jaqueline was unsure about Asia's stability as always a market for this particular product.

Secondly, The Red Chair in Lucca, Italy was contacted. The Italian office located near Pisa didn't seem up to its prior reputation. Blue Coastal International in Africa would have seemed a good choice for Niemann's proposal. Yet problems in negotiations caused retreat on both ends. The White Tower might have been a pleasing choice for both she and its owner in Bilbao. Spain. Pity the timing was ill-fitted.

Oddly enough, it was Vancouver based Arlington Cross that placed a perfect bidding price and commission for Niemann. Cross Collectibles had a three and a half year worth of dealings in the past.

Jaqueline Hurlot Niemann's bank in Paris was wired a plush price for sale of a trio and fat finder's fee for herself. Items were shipped via freighter from Marseilles. The arrival date would be within 21 days.

Arlington Cross would be an opportune oracle of Manon's magical jewels, which were a golden key of amorous amends.

Chapter One

Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Park was sparsely occupied by a pair of dog-walkers and small smattering of joggers that July day. These early morning risers included the proprietor of an antiques establishment, known as Cross Collectibles.

Every pounding of footstep against pavement, revealed his declining stamina.

The morning breeze blew Arlington's mixed brown and gray hair away from his bobbing face as he thought of what the day would hold forward. Yet, he couldn't resist thinking about his humble beginnings. Raised not far from the New Mexico border, he was an Andrews, Texas native. At age 3, he'd moved with his family to Orange Grove for a newly minted business in Corpus Christi.

His father, Thomas Keith Oliver Cross, or TKO as friends called him, was a man with big dreams of rubbing lanterns of fantasized luxury. Cross-Banks began with high hopes, for both TKO and partner Lincoln Banks. Oil exploration came to be the blissful bread and butter for the two families.

Meanwhile, Arlington and his younger brother Maxwell were steered on the right path, under the maternal wings of Bonnie Weatherly Cross. Thomas taught them to fish, hunt, and interact with many a ball of boyhood. Bonnie, on the other hand, taught them fairness, courtesy, pride, and mental acceleration. Both parents gave them lessons in life, which they retained to this date.

Moments of joy, youth, laughter, and familial bonding filled the Cross's three-bedroom home on 327 Carlyle Way. Alas, it all came to a stunted end with the caustic touch of cancer.

Bonnie Weatherly Cross had lost her battle with cancer when Arlington was 15 and Maxwell was 12.

Having moved to Vancouver at age 17, he and his brother were on a whirlwind adventure with their widowed father. Thomas, Arlington, and Maxwell got Cross Collectibles off the ground quite quickly. Within two years, Cross Collectibles became a moderately successful import and export antique company. The primary reason for this choice of vocation came with some local tax incentives and low overhead costs.

Thomas' sale of his half of the company to Lincoln Banks of Kimball, Nebraska, gave him enough seed money to travel north of the border. Ironically, that cash infusion for business opportunities in Vancouver remained a strike of financial genius by the elder Cross.

TKO finally decided to retire and let one of his sons run the family business. The younger brother had dreams of a life not in antiques. So, he was off the hook of export responsibility. But, Arlington Cross was filled with pride for his father handing him the reins at Collectibles.

With two sons to be proud of, TKO bought a home in Portland, Oregon. He lived quietly and happily, knowing Cross Collectibles was in good hands. Lawyer Maxwell Cross returned to Texas to take a position at one of Dallas's prestigious firms of legal thunder.

The gaze of Cross's brown eyes reminded many of sable buttons floating in the deep, warm waters of Galveston Bay. Wearing a pair of washed out gray sweats and a Texas A&M hooded sweatshirt, an attached Walkman gently bounced from a constantly moving motioning hip. Anyone looking at this man, would mistake him for an overly-ripened fraternity brother and not a respectable business owner on this July 17th.

As the final notes of the Allman Brothers', `Jessica', wound down, KVON's morning radio jock, Hugo Felipe announced the time of 7:14 over Arlington's music player. Clicking it off, Cross rummaged through his pockets to find the door key. The silver object slipped through his fingers and gently bounced off his scuffed, white Converse sneakers. Arlington bent down to retrieve the key.

"You're going to kill yourself with that running, young man," a mature female voice flowed from above him.

"Chayline?" He stood upright and took a deep breath. His lips formed a genial grin, "What doesn't kill me will make me stronger."

Fading red hair twisted beneath a gold and emerald hairpin. Chayline Vincent laughed, "But, boss, I don't want me to outlive you." She pressed an index finger against his heaving palpitating chest and pulled her purse over her left shoulder. "Besides, what would this place be without a Cross?"

Arlington unlocked the door, "Oh, it's all with a wing and a prayer. I hope it can be a bit better than Teak House." His foot pushed aside a small pile of mail, knowing its majority were always billing statements from varied vendors.

"Better than Bleak," 56-year-old Chayline remarked to him with a pun she often used in describing this building's color as in similarity to a Dickensian tome. But despite joking about that shade of brown with a hint of maroon mixed in, both knew that the financial state of Cross Collectibles was verging toward a miniature level of San Andreas. She followed him inside Cross Collectibles.

The previous trio of months had a decline in sales and customers for Cross Collectibles weekly auctions. Although there were specialty items that sold to heightened financial plateaus, the majority of those goods were like lukewarm beer. Things may be wanted as an afterthought by the public, but not needed. Gifts for grandmothers or that forgotten anniversary were the fare of Cross Collectibles.

"What time is Barris due in today, Chay?" he asked, scooping objects with both hands and tossing them onto the large reception desk. Pulling his sweatshirt off, he stood wearing a blue cotton tee and wrapped the hooded item around his waist.

"He should be here around…" She gazed at her oval wristwatch and quickly responded, "Around 9:45."

Opening windows in the rear of the building, Cross slightly grimaced at her, "That late?"

"Remember? His sister is coming in from the University of Ottawa for a visit?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot."

"Well, are you going to change?" She walked toward him, a headmistress attitude taking over. "Or is this the odor of the day?"

Ignoring what she was speaking about, his head cocked to face her, "Um, what did you say?"

"Come on, Mr. Forgetful," she chided. Placing firm hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the bathroom down the hall, she reminded him, "We've got a busy day. And, the early bird gets the worm."

"And not smell like one, right?" Rolling blue fabric from his flesh and grabbing a clean white shirt from a closet, Cross entered the bathroom.

"What color?" she asked.

Twisting the knob, his head popped from the cracked door. He said, "Dark brown, please."

"Good choice." Chayline pulled a pair of brown pants from a silver hanger inside the closet.

His hand darted around and pulled the pants inside. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome, Arlington."

"That's why you're the best, Chayline." Dressed in starched white shirt and dark brown pants, Arlington Cross was a man ready for the hectic workday. Cross pecked Vincent his assistant on right cheek, "Thanks again."

She playfully waved him away from her. "Now, let's get down to business, sir."

Trotting into a small kitchen area, he began to make them some coffee. "Don't I know it?" After microwaving some water and tossing a packet into a cup, Cross approached her desk. "Hazelnut, ma'am. Your wish is my command."

"Darling, you make an old lady giddy." She smiled and shoved her purse into bottom right drawer of the desk. "When Barris gets here, do you want him to start on the inventory?"

"Sure. And, after he finishes, have him come up to my office." Dragging a brown box of books towards an elevator, he made sure the mail was set on top.

Sipping coffee, Chayline Vincent stood and began to prepare the first floor for business. "See you later."

As it ascended to the fourth floor of the building, the gated elevator shook slightly. The bright capsule opened and Arlington stepped onto a dark plateau. The tip of his sneaker pressed the box across from that opening. Fifteen steps to his left, he flipped a light switch on. Opening rolling doors to his office open, Cross unlocked a small cabinet in the corner. He removed a white box from that top drawer and another pair of shoes. Resting himself into a swivel chair, Arlington quickly changed from white canvas sneakers into black suede loafers.

9:15 ticked away on a black and white wall clock in Cross's office. The clanging of the elevator opening broke the silence of surveying statements and stock. "Barris, I didn't think you'd be in until almost 10."

"Yeah, I did too." Youthfully bounding over to him, he placed a large hand outward for a shake. "Good morning. And, thanks again for the time."

Eyes of dark brown and square jaw of kindness, with a frame of over six feet, there stood Barris Hart. All this 29 year old needed was a blue ox.

As he Cross began to pull papers from a cabinet, he said, "I want you to check the stocks for these items," handing Hart those items.

"Done," Organizing white and pink papers, Barris tapped them onto a desk. "Is there anything else you need right now, boss?"

Cross became playful with Hart. "If you can make some new customers appear, then I'll take you up on that offer."

"That's a good one." As he walked to the elevator, a deep chuckle came from Barris Hart's lips. "See you in a bit, Arlington."

Two hours and fifteen minutes of peace were cracked with the sound of a braking delivery truck on Heather Street. Chayline Vincent gazed above a pair of tortoise rimmed reading glasses. The white vehicle, with ten-inch black-block-lettering, read Carrington Courier Company. It listed headquarters in Toronto, with branches located in Winnipeg, Edmonton, and St. John.

Adorned in a tomato-red jacket, with a dangling nametag on the right chest pocket and navy pants, a bearded driver with a trim build began to open the van's side door. Packages and boxes were placed onto a dolly for easy transport into Cross Collectibles.

"Let me get that for you." Gently putting her glasses onto pile of invoices, she began pulling the glass doors open. Chayline waved the man inside. "Are those all for Cross?"

"Yes, ma'am." He checked a clipboard with listings of all the packages he had to deliver in Vancouver that day. "Could you sign right here?" he asked, and put the clipboard atop the dolly.

"Sure," she nodded, quickly scribbling her name on a dozen corresponding bold lines. "Can you put them over there, please?"

Reacting with a smile, he ensured her request was fulfilled in no time at all, "You have a good day, ma'am." Placing the clipboard under his right arm, he gave a friendly salute and walked towards the opened entrance.

"I will," she said as she slowly closing the glass doors behind him, Chayline played slightly with a strand of pearls. "You have the same, buddy."

The elevator opened and Arlington approached the reception area, "How many today?" "Chay,- ah,

Soft hands placed a finger on each item, "Looks like one huge one, three large ones, five medium, and two small," She almost overlooked a singular item which had been laid aside the tower by the delivery man. "And then, there's this one," she said, giving a slight shake at a six by six sized box. From the looks of it, this small one is postmarked from France.

"Who's it from?" Banging a hand onto the largest box, Cross bent down and took an opener from his pants pocket.

"I'll give Jaqueline a call later." He ripped the masking tape down the middle and quipped, "I'm surprised it got here so quick."

"Why?"

"She said that it was being shipped from over there, from when I talked to her last week." He lifted a large vase from that box. "Oh, this is beautiful." Cradling the pricey porcelain, he walked down a long hallway.

"So, what do you want to do first?"

"This vase goes first," he said, nesting the item onto a large black table in the back room, "Grab your pad, my friend."

"I'll put this one upstairs later, okay?"

"Perfect."

Tagging this item of treasure, Arlington Cross and Chayline Vincent came to a padded sales price. "When we put it in the right light… "

"It'll glow green," she interrupted.

"You are precisely on point, Mrs. Vincent."

Barris Hart exited the descended elevator. "Do you need me for anything else, Arlington?"

"What's up, Barris?"

"Can I take lunch?"

"Before you do…" He pointed at the remaining items in the corner, "Can you take those up to the storage room?"

"No problem." Cheerfully getting a rolling cart from the room down the hall, Hart began stacking packages and ascending back upstairs.

"Chayline, you can take lunch too." Working his fingers through his hair, Cross wrote a few words onto a yellow legal pad. "Business is as light as a feather."

"Thanks." Taking her purse from a drawer, Chayline made a suggestion, "Do you want me to bring you back something?"

"A sub will do fine."

"And, do you want pickles, too?"

"Oh, Chayline, you do know me well." He beat his pen against the table. "I'll hold down the fort of silence."

Vincent grasped the door and gently spoke to him. "See you in a bit, Cross."

"Thanks." Continuing to write, Arlington closed the door and sat at Chayline's cluttered desk.

Alone, this owner of a thriving Vancouver establishment sat yawning. Arlington Cross waited for a blitz of customers and clients, to keep his lifestyle as a King Edward Avenue apartment resident, on that glittery social scene near Vandusen Botanical

His father, Thomas, had retired to a cozy cabin in Oregon. Younger brother Maxwell returned to life in Dallas. Arlington's sibling carved out quite a fulfilling life in the legal arena of Texas.

Being a bachelor could be many things to a man. As for sex, that remained a puzzle, in and of itself. Arlington remained a bachelor who had freedom to explore feminine companionship. And, he did so without abandon.

Nylons in nightclubs, bikinis on bronzed flesh, and diamond adorned bodies in his bed kept satisfaction on the smiling face of Arlington Cross.

Peach painted nails on a manicured hand approached Arlington with a coral colored envelope "Mr. Cross?"

"Yes."

Tanned, lean limbs, exposed from the mid-thigh of a green skirt, moved motioned closer. "I hear that you're having an auction in two weeks. I think there are a few items which might peak my interest to purchase."

"Really?" Rising from behind Chayline's desk, his hand reached out to hers. Cross looked at a crinkled flyer of a few months prior, up and down. "And, what kind of items are you looking for?"

"My husband and I," She returned his handshake and with moist lips added, "are in the market for exotic figurines."

Hearing of a spouse was like garlic to a penetrating vampire. "Oh," Cross changed his tone as a distinctive silver band glimmered on her wedding finger. "Well, we're putting something together soon." Arlington's inquisitive nature consumed the moment with this woman. "How did you get that notice, ma'am?"

"Mr. Cross. I do have my ways" She remarked, as her emerald eyes were fanned with soft eyelashes. Her raspberry lips parted, as did a rayon jacket to reveal ample assets to him. "Could you give me a description of what the upcoming items for auction are?"

"Ma'am, this flyer is from an old auction we had a while back," he said, putting it on the desk. Arlington began to turn a beam of investigation onto this mysterious marigold, "We've just had a shipment of Hummel. Would you like to view them?"

"Mr. Cross, I'd like you to suggest something that might suit me." She shifted soft flesh on the seat; her slight French accent washed over him. "My husband's been on a long business trip." An aura of arousal wafted around this obviously bored wife of privilege. "I wanted to give him a surprise when he returns home in a few days."

"Something different is what you're looking for, correct?"

The tip of her tongue moved against her bare teeth, as she slowly twirled a few strands of long, golden hair. "I think you're the type of man that could give a woman exactly what she needs."

"I have something that will put a smile on that lovely face, ma'am." Word play was like foreplay to Cross, as though a lump of hesitation lodged in his throat. He skimmed the thick blue catalog. "I mean, Cross has a wide selection of pieces of the obscure and erotic." Flipping past pages of statues and wall art, he found something his potential customer would enjoy. "Also, there are some masks from Morocco that we got in last week," he said, showing a picture of an object of fertility. Her body language of arousal diminished. "But, they might not be what you and your husband need."

"Why is that, Mr. Cross?" A miniscule pout formed on those berry colored lips of hers.

"They are traditional fertility masks."

Girlish giggles erupted from her. "You are quite right." Gently taking the catalog from him, she stood and placed it onto that desk. "I don't want a mask or anything from that catalog."

"How do you know? That's old." She gingerly placed her left hand on the catalog.

Cross became puzzled at her remark. "You haven't been in here before." Those brown eyes looked more intently at him. "Have you?"

"I - I didn't mean the catalog was old." Pangs of embarrassment came to her reddening cheeks as she continued to speak. "I mean to say that is outdated for what I'm in the market for."

Cross closed the catalog. "Oh, I think I can see." Arlington tried to attain further information from her. "Well, if you would tell me what kind of man your husband is, maybe I can assist you in finding something appropriate."

"He is a man who doesn't spend enough time with his wife." The seductive siren gave more intimate details to the man. "He's a man who leaves his wife alone." Pretending a flickering of bashfulness, she added, "Many a lonely and cold night, he has done this."

Arlington Cross was about to respond to this emerald ember, which sat lusciously before him as a stream of car horns began beeping on the street outside. "Some men just don't know how lucky they actually are."

"Well, I guess it's especially lucky when a royal flush is in their grasp." Her present for an absent spouse became the last item that was on her mind at that moment in time. "Lady Luck can give a winning roll of the dice." Her feminine charms came to the forefront once more as she gazed down at Arlington's affected lower half.

"Or snake eyes." Cross's erection had to be placed on a back burner. He knew the complications of mixing Cross Collectibles' business with captivating trysts and their unforeseen consequences.

Arlington Cross had a modern day vision of those magnificent Three Graces within arm's length. Yet, his lust would have to remain hidden beneath the dark brown cloth of his pants.

Mischievously, she turned up the heat. "Oh, and that's an image to ponder too."

Feeling like a marlin that had just been hooked off the Florida coast, Cross began realizing this pretty package in his business was a bit too eager to obtain that caviar ticket to a Cross Collectibles' private auction. "I don't think you and your husband will find what you're looking for at my business."

"Just because I'm married, Arlington" She brushed against his left shoulder, an offer and admission of passion was laid at Cross's feet. "It does not mean that I am a tulip with only a single petal."

Her intentions towards this stranger would seem obvious to him. She knew how to talk to any man and get his attention. At this moment in time, her sights were set on Cross.

He was flattered and horny. But Arlington's radar doubted her motives for the strong come on to him. Cross was being offered entree into an erotic encounter with a woman who appeared to be too good to be true.

And, from a cautious dealer of antiques, sometimes it was best not to make the sale, no matter what the underlying cost would turn out to be.

"What a description."

Taking a slip of paper from her purse, she scribbled. "Call me, if you have a change of schedule." She handed him the note and her luscious body slinked towards the door. She turned to him and continued, "Call me, if you've got the inkling he's not around."

"By the way," Whizzing past her, Cross asked, "What's your name?"

Her sandal-clad feet quickly stepped onto the crowded sidewalk of Heather Street as she licked her glossed lips. "Clover."

It turned out to be a first for him. Arlington Cross had just been pumped. Not for lust, but for information. He crossed is arms and stood by the door waiting for Vincent's return.

..End Of Excerpt

(Well, of course, the hidden agendas are played by winks, smiles and naked thighs throughout "Rack Em"...)

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The Gardener by A.H. Scott

2011-10-25T07:24:00.000-07:00

Household Help Is So Hard To Find. Paulette enjoyed the skills of her household help.

A.H. Scott unwraps "The Gardener". A tale of a lady of the manor, who has her own way of dealing with the help....

Lust takes root in "The Gardener" from A.H. Scott

Plant your seeds here, my friends..;)
This is a FREE packet of pleasure...;)

The Hardware Store by A.H. Scott

2011-10-25T07:11:00.001-07:00

Searching For The Right Tool For Every Job!
Rebecca had a knack for pairing a customer with the right tool Yet, when she met Jack, she became the one who got nailed.
"The Hardware Store" is a sexy tale from author A.H. Scott.

Hardware's FREE..;)

Grab your tools and head to The Hardware Store

Homecoming by A.H. Scott

2011-10-25T06:52:00.001-07:00

Homecoming

By

A.H. Scott

In midday Manhattan, directly in front of the 5th Avenue branch of the New York Public Library, the pair of marble lions had a constant breeze of visitors passing by and entering this institution of varied volumes.

In the busy metropolis, faces become blurs and the speed of life whistles past each soul. Sometimes, people have to just take a deep breath and reflect on where they've been in the past.

As a man and woman passed each other on that busy street, both realized that they knew the other.

Her mane was a bit grayer and pinned up. Unlike when they'd been together earlier, only a few wisps of golden hair caused his memory to be teased. It was her.

Sylvia's coy smile was what he could never forget.

He had a few wrinkles forming around his eyes, yet still she knew that smile. His dark brown hair had a few flecks of gray in it. It was him.

Daniel's gentle voice enraptured her once more, "Sylvia?"

"Daniel?”, her light brown eyes danced with flirtation to this man she'd known years prior.

"You want to get a cup of coffee".

"You and I don't do coffee, Daniel".

He nodded and whispered in her ear, "You're right. We do each other, Sylvia".

Giggling, as she'd done so many times before in his presence, "So, just like old times, huh?"

"If it were like old times, we'd be in a hotel under the next five minutes”, Daniel smiled.

"Well, with maturity, things change”, Sylvia’s wicked wit drifted from her lips, "Make it twenty minutes, Daniel".

A simple concurrence of what both desired came, as they continued walking down the avenue together. Fate must have brought them directly across from a hotel.

Daniel was a gentleman and paid for a suite. Sylvia followed him into an elevator up to the third floor.

Entering hotel room 34, both gazed at the object that would complete the hustle down memory lane. A king sized bed with yellow crocheted coverlet, greeted this unexpectedly aroused couple.

Daniel closed the door behind them, as Sylvia touched the yellow cover and removed it. She turned her head to face him, "I guess this is what an afternoon delight is, huh, Daniel?"

Placing hotel room key into a glass ashtray on a bedside table, Daniel chuckled, "No, darling Syl”, walking over to her, he held this woman in his arms; "This is what we can call unfinished business".

Sylvia let out a laugh and kissed him, "Never thought I'd call being with you business, Daniel".

Running hands up and down her back, he squeezed this plush form, "You feel so good in my arms, Sylvia”, pecking her neck, "You smell just like always before".

Draping arms around his neck, "So do you, Danny”, her eyes gazed up at him, "You still have the strongest grip I've ever known, honey".

Briefly, they giggled like high schoolers, as each tossed off their clothes and ended up beneath those cotton sheets.

Daniel penetrated Sylvia with the rapid pace of a rabbit. Just like instinct, each remembered the feel of the other person. Pussy moistened and opened for him. Cock throbbed and built towards marble for her.

Sheets of pale blue were gathered beneath Sylvia's fingers, as an exploration of eroticism began between them.

Although they'd made love many times over the years before, this time seemed different. Purity's sea washed over their bodies, as droplets of quintessence mixed with sweat.

Sylvia's pussy came alive with every thrust of Daniel's cock. In their younger days, it wouldn't take this much energy at all, for either of them to get off. But, aged flesh became drenched in sweat; from the heated exertion it was taking from both of them.

Daniel's chest heaved towards Sylvia's grinding body, as both twisted and moved together on that bed. Like some slow motioned, elder version of Cirque de Soliel, each regained their acrobatic flare for fantasy fulfillment.

Her breasts wiggled from side to side, as his hands shifted Sylvia's sweaty hips into another familiar position, "Oh, I bet you remember this one, sexy Syl".

"Mmm”, Sylvia smiled, as she suddenly was positioned on all fours at the head of that king sized bed. "Oh, I definitely remember what you like, Danny".

She slightly spread her legs, revealing a moist snatch for him to enter. He slowly licked his lips and pressed that building bulge into a dripping sliver of life.

Back and forth, Daniel and Sylvia became a locomotive of lust.

His strong hands squeezed those plump cheeks, as she moaned in a low tone. He knew her body and the curves of years gone by. Now, a few smacks of that sweet ass and a grinding thrust, led to that moment when Daniel was about to bust.

"I'm coming, Syl!!" ,he howled.

Sylvia's silky voice rose a few octaves, as his hands smacked her ass again and again, "Give it to me. Fuck me harder, Danny!"

Daniel pulled is cock out and Sylvia spun around and down onto the mattress. She patted her hands onto her own sweaty chest, as this man was given a tempting target.

Stream of cum against heaving breasts, were mixed with the sounds of relief from both. Pale blue sheet was used as a sponge to collect that precious cum.

Daniel and Sylvia lay motionless on that bed for a brief period of time. No words were needed or desired by either towards the other person in that bed.

He was far from being the varsity athlete anymore, as his job in an office had him behind a desk most days. And, she had a few extra pounds from the éclairs that she'd grown to love over the years.

Biceps and bellies may have sagged a bit. But, it still was the same fire beneath the skin.

Daniel and Sylvia had a college romance over twenty years ago. Although a marathon of steamy entanglements in the backseats of cars and unmade dorm room beds, each knew their lives would change with graduation.

Little would either have guessed they'd meet each other by happenstance on a New York City avenue.

Daniel and Sylvia were home again, in each other's arms. It felt good and so right, to be together again.

Feelings of days gone by drifted to the surface once more. Yet, both knew this would only be a brief retreat to those carefree moments of their younger days.

Lives were complicated by responsibilities anew. Hourglass drifted beyond the joys of the past and they both took a final deep breath to move forward.

They dressed and gave each other a final hug in the center of that silent hotel room. She began to speak, but he placed an index finger against her lips.

"I know, Syl”, giving this woman he'd experienced such passion with, Daniel smiled, "We'll always have our memories".

Sylvia nodded her head and kissed the tip of Daniel's finger, as a sign of assurance, "My pussy just shed a tear".

It was joy that Daniel just brought into Sylvia's life. Just a brief return to the years of days gone by, was more than fulfilling to this lady with graying blond hair.

Both sighed and began to embark on returning to their lives outside that room. Spouses and children would be the present and future for both. Yet, that bittersweet ride back to their past was filled with a highway of effervescence.

Lazy afternoon of Sylvia running a few errands and Daniel finishing up some business, turned to be a magical encounter in each other's arms.

As they exited the hotel room, he rubbed her shoulder and each looked back at the bed they'd just made love in.

They kissed once more and pulled the door closed behind them.

Onto the street once again, streams of people passed by them quickly. The sun was setting with the speed of a turtle, as each waved goodbye to one another.

Homecoming was complete for a man and woman who'd known the pleasure of getting in touch with the past perfection of carefree joy.

Going home wasn't returning to a location of brick and mortar. Coming home was the refocusing of frayed hearts in a world whizzing by.

Sylvia and Daniel found it on a sunny afternoon in Manhattan.

END

- A.H. Scott
October 2011

The Scientist - erotic fiction by A.H. Scott

2011-10-25T06:44:00.000-07:00

Can a man of theory, formula and logic, also be a man of unbound lust?
The answer is yes.
A.H. Scott whips up an elixir of ecstasy for your pleasure..

In this FREE ebook, things are burning up in a certain laboratory of varied discoveries...

Experiment in ecstasy's elixir with
"The Scientist" , from Smashwords..;)

Going Down? Go "OVER MY HEAD" with A.H. Scott (EXTENDED EXCERPT)

2011-10-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

A.H. Scott smashes conventionality once again!! JUST PUBLISHED FROM SMASHWORDS! A new novel from A.H. Scott. A wife. A husband. A lover. Secrets. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

"Over My Head" is a contemporary romance, filled with smothered aspirations, smoldering sparks, and an explosive conclusion. Woman at the heart of this novel is Angela Chase. Sexy brunette with a pouting sense of privilege, she always has been spoiled by her tycoon father. Sometimes a spoiled child becomes a brat that thinks the world should bow down to her. For Angie, she'd enjoyed having her stocking clad knees onto a floor also. Angela Chase may have been a married woman, but she was far from a shrinking violet on passion's scale. Tiny fractures of her relationship to Lawrence Chase began twiddling away at this woman's self esteem. Neglecting Angela was Lawrence's first sin. Racing into second place behind neglect, came an act of omission. Alas, what Lawrence Chase set in motion, Angela Chase would barter with in skin of perfumed lotion....

A.H. Scott invites you to take two bites of seduction's apple in readubg the first 50 pages of my new novel, "Over My Head" for FREE!! But, for now, please enjoy this nibble of my novel below..;)

-----------------
EXCERPT

Chapter

Angela and Nicholas didn't travel in the same social circles in Eau Claire. Yet, over the years, each had been cordial in many a public event. Maybe being a charming woman to every person she'd met, would give her a leg up in assisting Lawrence's debt to becoming just an unpleasant memory.

Parking down the street, a few quickened steps would bring Angie face to face with the person who held Larry's marker in the palm of his hand.

As if some things never changed, that flashy red spider was once again parked outside of the Eight Ball on July 21st.

Motioning inside, Chase gazed to the right and saw the booth that she'd sat at with those weeks before her eighteenth birthday. To Angela's left, an unattended bar had a trio of paper coasters strewn about it.

Marty Balin's milky voice washed over an entering Angela Carter Chase, as she walked towards that bar. On a jukebox to her right, "Count On Me" played moderately in this almost empty establishment. Jefferson Airplane's melody filled that July afternoon's air. For this motivated wife, Angela quite aptly understood meaning of those lyrics. Larry could always count on Angie.

Slightly bending neck and head over the bar's edge, Angela spoke with familiarity, "Archie? Is that you?"

Archie Hamilton placed several inventory slips down on an empty crate and looked around to see where that light voice came from. Quite taken aback at Angela Carter's presence in this location, he moderately uttered, "Angela Carter? What are you doing here?"

Turning hesitation to a happy smile, Hamilton added, "You haven't been in these parts in a long time. It's good to see you again".

Relieved to see this acquaintance, Angela returned a subtle smile, "You too, Archie. It's good to see a friendly face".

Standing upright, he grasped the papers and put them onto that bar counter, "So, can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, I'm not here for that", Angela was determined to get through this unpleasant task rapidly, as brown eyes gazed towards a pool table area in back, "Is Nicholas here?"

"Nick?", carelessly shrugging at hearing the reason why this female was there, Archie calmly conveyed Bell's whereabouts, "Sure, he's in the back".

Slim form in white dress cautiously moved near the billiard tables and smiled back at this mellow barkeep, "Thank you, Archie".

"Listen, Angela", calling out to her, he smiled, "I could have him come out here and talk to you", walking out from behind that bar, Hamilton could sense a glimmer of discomfort in this brunette's hesitation to be in Nicholas Bell's establishment, "It would be no problem".

"Thanks for your kindness", nibbling bottom lip, Angela started to walk away, "I've got this situation in control".

"Angela?"

"Yes, Archie", flipping head and hair to face him, this woman replied.

"Take it easy, okay", Hamilton smiled.

"I will", woman on a mission motioned to the back of the Eight Ball.

White pumps tapped against green tiles, as she saw Gennaro Esposito and two other men playing a game of pool with Nicholas Bell.

As Nick has his back to an approaching Angela fifteen feet away, Espo nodded head to get him to turn around. The holder of that large debt would see for himself what the Rabbit's Foot had dragged in. A white pearl from shoe to dress stood in an arena of ash and dim lighting.

Lawrence Chase's losing streak in an unlicensed Fairwater casino had led his wife to this unlikely place. Fabric of lightest color revealed more about the lady who wore that dress.

She was queen of diamonds in a deck of destiny that he'd frittered away. In a high stakes game of a husband's multiple hands of poor choices, Angela held onto the wildest card of all.

Nicholas Bell's life of varied fortune had proceeded with an abundant arrival of Angela Carter Chase.

Dressed in black tee and pants, Nick slowly twisted himself around, "Right on time", softly whispering to Espo.

"An hourglass, my friend", Esposito sighed at the sight of such beauty in their midst, while moving towards those other two men.

Butterfly of mixed emotions that fluttered in her throat were swallowed and confidence emerged from Angela's soft lips, while stationed on one side of that pool table, "Hello, Nicholas".

A false air of being surprised at her sight filled Nick's voice, as he spoke to this woman in white, "Angela, it's good to see you again".

"Gee, that's what Archie just said to me", Chase felt a bit of gallows's humor would break the ice of this awkward moment of being reintroduced to him, "Can we talk?"

"Surely", Nick rested pool stick against table and grinned at her, "We can sit over in one of the booths", pointing towards that almost empty bar area.

Angela was pleased at his offer, but declined, "I'd like to speak with you in private".

"Private?", Bell was puzzled with Chase's request to be alone with him. Yet, he knew exactly why that conversation would need to be without an audience, "No one will bother us when we sit down to talk", slyly winking over at a trusted friend, who knew what was actually going on, "Isn't that right, Gennaro?"

Adorned in white, silk shirt and tan pants, this male had the appearance of a tropical toreador. Putting away pool stick in rack, he looked like a cool coconut cocktail to her.

Gennaro Esposito had known Angela from being acquainted with her at various public events, "Oh, yeah", giving a smile to this attractive visitor, Espo rolled out the welcome mat to their unfiltered world, "Hello, Angela You look like a blue cloud of joy".

"Hi, Gennaro", polite to a fault, Arthur Carter's daughter smiled back, "Thanks for the compliment", returning to the point of this visit in the first place, "Please, Nick. I really need to talk to you, alone".

"Hey, how can I resist a request from such a lovely lady", nodding head in direction of Esposito, he added, "Hold all my calls, Espo", holding right hand outward to Angela, this male in his 30's pointed towards a back office, "We can talk in my office".

Angela Carter Chase slowly sauntered down a small hallway that led to Bell's office, as he followed behind her in the mode of a wolf salivating at a juicy mouse. Nicholas turned head and winked back at a stationary, smiling Gennaro Esposito.

As this woman entered that office, Nick closed the door behind her, "Please, have a seat, Angela".

"I think I'll stand", calmly replying to Bell's offer.

"It's your decision", smiling at her, he sat down behind his desk, "Well, how cliché it would be of me to ask", slightly snickering in a quizzical tone, "But, what brings you by?"

Angela pulled a few loosened strands of hair behind her ear, as she took a deep breath, "I think you know why I'm here, Nicholas".

"Angela, Angela", with glint of cheer in his voice, he cleaned teeth minutely, "You remember all my friends call me Nick", remembering their meeting years prior.

"Okay", uttering a modest sigh, she relented, "Nick, you do know why I'm here", fidgeting fingers began tapping against white purse, "My husband".

"Maybe you should spell it out for me, Mrs. Chase", letting Angela feel a quick sting of hearing herself as the spouse of an unlucky gambler.

Wife in white wardrobe placed her cards of purpose onto Nick Bell's desk, "I'm here to talk to you about Lawrence's debt".

Brows arched in response, "Ah, so I guess your husband can't handle this himself?", unable to avoid chuckling at this vision of loveliness taking on a responsibility of paying Larry's losses off.

"That's not funny, Nick", taking a small inhalation of courage, Angela turned rigid in place.

Seeing this female's frigid air about her, Bell used a few words of accommodation, "Have a seat, Angela".

"I'm fine standing", not wanting to chitchat with this male of dubious demeanor, Chase stood still.

"Sit down, Angie", with a statement of ordering his visitor to recline into a chair, Nick smiled at Angie in a mixture of smoothness and rocky resolution, "This is going to be done under my terms", placing palm out in a motion for her to relax, he let this female know exactly who she was dealing with, "And, definitely not yours".

Arthur Carter's daughter had the air of a profitable lineage, which Nicholas Bell hadn't been in contact with in many a year. Members of Eau Claire's society would not look down the Eight Ball's owner again.

Slowly her body rested into a chair, "Okay, so now I'm sitting here", giving this male compliance.

"You see, Angela", glad of the way she heeded that insistence of descending action, Nick grinned with sense of relief, "Everyone can comply when they want to".

END OF EXCERPT

---------------

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"Over My Head" - A Wife Steps Into The Wolf's Den by A.H. Scott

"Over My Head" - (EROTICA) Angela Is All Grown Up - by A.H. Scott

"Over My Head" - (Contemporary Romance) Devotion Comes With A Price by A.H. Scott

"Rack Em" - A Romantic Thriller by A.H. Scott

Explore - A Poem by A.H. Scott

A HUSBAND'S SECRET IS A SILK GAMBLE.......

The Author Pages Of A.H. Scott

A.H. SCOTT AUTHOR PAGES

Barnes & Noble A.H. Scott - Barnes & Noble -----------------Amazon A.H. Scott - Amazon Author Page -----------------Smashwords A.H. Scott - Smashwords Author Page Check me out and check out my books...

A LOVE FOR THE AGES - AN INTERNATIONAL ROMANTIC THRILLER FROM A.H. SCOTT - "RACK EM"

THE QUOTABLE A.H. SCOTT - Happiness.....

IT DON'T COME EASY - A RANT BY A.H. SCOTT

A FIRM HAND AWAITS - "THE SENTENCE OF ANNA" BY A.H. SCOTT

DIAMONDS, DESIRE & DEATH - "RACK EM" BY A.H. SCOTT

A.H. SCOTT BOOKSHOP IS NOW OPEN!

WELCOME ONE AND ALL Come by & take a look around. Novels, nibbles & free reads are here for your viewing pleasure A.H. Scott Bookshop

PILLOW TALK SCREWS THE 99% - POETRY BY A.H. SCOTT

PILLOW TALK SCREWS THE 99%!!

Stroking Sahara

Rack Em - romantic thriller by A.H. Scott

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK!!

Homecoming - erotica by A.H. Scott

Tom Ford Stole My Training Wheels - erotica by A.H. Scott

The Thong Snap: Tanned Thighs & Twisted Lies - an erotic essay by A.H. Scott

The Thong Snap: Tanned Thighs & Twisted Lies is an erotic essay from author A.H. Scott. It deals with the public and media's fascination with a once private matter - infidelity. Smashwords

..People know EXACTLY who they are married to...!!!

Behind The Doors Of The Wealthy...There's Always Something Stirring: "Over My Head" by A.H. Scott

Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time..: "Rack Em" by A.H. Scott

The Gardener by A.H. Scott

The Hardware Store by A.H. Scott

Homecoming by A.H. Scott

The Scientist - erotic fiction by A.H. Scott

Going Down? Go "OVER MY HEAD" with A.H. Scott (EXTENDED EXCERPT)

ROMANCE AWAITS..;)

Barnes & Noble
A.H. Scott - Barnes & Noble

-----------------

Amazon
A.H. Scott - Amazon Author Page

-----------------

Smashwords
A.H. Scott - Smashwords Author Page

Check me out and check out my books...

WELCOME
ONE
AND
ALL

Come by & take a look around.

Novels, nibbles & free reads

are here for your viewing pleasure

A.H. Scott Bookshop

SEDUCTION'S GAME IS ABOUT TO BREAK!!

ARE YOU IN?

The Thong Snap: Tanned Thighs & Twisted Lies is an erotic essay from author A.H. Scott. It deals with the public and media's fascination with a once private matter - infidelity.

Smashwords