The Scientist - erotic fiction by A.H. Scott

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)

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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Behind the doors of the wealthy, sexual encounters of the shocking kind are always stirring....;)

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A.H. Scott is also author of the contemporary romance, "Stroking Sahara" which is available from Amazon. And, a sexy romantic thriller, "Rack Em", published by Eirelander Publishing.

ROMANCE AWAITS..;)

Tom Ford Stole My Training Wheels by A.H. Scott

Tom Ford Stole My Training Wheels

by

A.H. Scott





Sensible mules, sandals and flats had always been my uniform in the feminine army. For me, the highest heel I'd ever been bold enough to wear was a pair of black pumps with two inch heels.


("In order to keep anything cultural, logical, or ideological, you have to reinvent the reality of it." - Ani DiFranco)


But, then came Tom.



Every time I wear a pair of high heels, the feel of wiggling hips begins. Then as I walk, the jiggle of my own personal suspension system. Whoa! To think a complex pair of shoes can be a workout all in themselves.


Planting my feet into Tom's stilettos with those heels dipped in gold, is like tossing away the training wheels off a Schwinn bike.



Ladies, if you can remember your first Schwinn bike. You know, the one with the pink and blue streamers that kissed the wind when a cool breeze blew past you along a lazy street. The faster you could pedal, the more those pink and blue streamers would weave in an out of one another.



Well, as you grow up, items that may seem the most reassuring and comfortable, suddenly isn't the most preferred.


("Creativity takes courage." - Henri Matisse)


And, that's how Tom Ford stole my training wheels.


Tom Ford's design was like a Lance Armstrong Mountain Bike that was prepared for victory in the Tour de France.



The first time I saw one of his high heeled creations was in the window of a fancy store on 5th Avenue. I couldn't believe how any woman could possibly be able to measure up to this designer's vision.


Or, how any woman could ever be able to walk in shoes with those nosebleed heels.


("Rule of art: Cant kills creativity!" - Camille Paglia)


There was nothing safe about these shoes. They were bold and without a net. And, now I would be without the net of training wheels to secure me from falling flat on my face from their height.



Almost looking like golden swords ready for a battle against boredom and conformity, those heels tempted me to purchase a pair.


When I did, my life changed.


I felt the true passage of womanhood when I took those shoes out of their box and laid them at my own feet.



("Creativity is piercing the mundane to find the marvelous." - Bill Moyers)


I'm surprised Tom Ford and the people at Gucci didn't sell a tiny ladder to accompany those stilettos to every woman that bought a pair.



Whoops! I stood in those shoes and was a bit wobbly on my feet. I'd never known the height that I gained with such footwear.



Oh, I need my training wheels put back onto my feet. Maybe, a simple sandal or even a pair of Keds would be more appropriate for me. Yet, I was a woman in the shoes of a femme of fiery flourish, so I proceeded on the journey to jiggling a bit more.



At first, I had a bit of a problem walking in them. But, as I learned over a few hours, a bit of training my own body to handle something so seductively straining to my limbs; the results paid off wonderfully.


Those stilettos raised my entire body upward to another enticing level. That lift gave my calves, thighs and hips a certain sway to them. As for my buns, they kind of had this bouncy effect with every step forward. Well, as for my breasts, they floated a bit too, as I sauntered in my new shoes.



For the first time when I wore those shoes outside of my apartment, it was like partaking in a safari. And, I didn't know if I were the prey or the hunter.


Even a good girl (like me), felt the power of those shoes.


Oh, Tom Ford, how dangerous you make a woman feel.


Taking step after step in my stilettos, those spiked heels jabbed a stake through the heart of feminine timidity.



They gave me a sense of danger. Not for myself. But, I will admit I felt a little like an adventuress going in for the domination of the king of the jungle. Or, maybe just a self-described Casanova.



Men looked at me differently. Almost with a hint of trepidation when I entered a room.


And, to think a pair of shoes, no matter how towering the design, made a world of difference in the dynamics between me and the opposite sex.



Never worn during hours of business, my stilettos are pulled out for special occassions. Even after many years of owning those shoes, it still thrills me for the reactions I get when I wear them.



And, ironically, it's from both sexes. The men are basically turned on. But, the women usually give me a nod of allegience from their own experiences in Tom's creations.


Feels great for a woman in her early 40's to still know I can turn heads. And, I have Tom Ford to thank for that.



Rubbing red lipstick onto pouty lips is an easy part of the dance of decadence that we all do. A little blush and a flick of mascara is also a part of the painting of acceptance that we use to get a man's attention.



But, nothing will ever take hold of his senses like the first time he sees you in a pair of stilettos. It's primal. And, that's the fun of being a woman. Both you and the man know the game has been kicked up a hell of a lot of notches.



On or off during sex, those stilettos are the glistening wand of wonderment that will leave him breathless with every thrust he brings forth.



Visionaries are sometimes not given enough praise during their lifetime. But, Tom Ford and the house of Gucci definitely transformed the stiletto from just sexy footwear into a wearable piece of art that would make any old master of watercolors blush.



("And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." -
Sylvia Plath)



I stand here in my stilettos and give a deep bow of gratitude to an artist of supreme boldness, Tom Ford.



Schwinn of simplicity has been revolutionized with a Lance Armstrong Mountain bike. And, my need for training (or wheels) has long gone away.




With that, the streamers are an adolescent memory and the golden heels that glisten on my stilettos are part of my feminine arsenal.


(“I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.” - Henry Rollins)


So, to all women of the world, now it's your turn to glisten beneath the glow of maturity.



Ladies, pull on that tube top from days gone by, even if you've got a little bulge of fat between your upper arms and breasts.



And, zip up that black leather mini-skirt, no matter how tight it may be. Just hold your breath for a brief second and zip it up all the way up.


Last, but not least, ascend to arousal's peak, as you climb into a pair of Tom Ford stilettos.




Being a woman isn't about being a mouse. It's about being a tigress in complete control of her own destiny.



END? Oh, no. This is only the beginning....

- A.H. Scott
October 2011

D. Renee Bagby Presents First Chapters : OVER MY HEAD by A.H. Scott

CHECK OUT THE FIRST CHAPTER

OF

A.H. SCOTT'S

CONTEMPORARY

ROMANCE

"OVER MY HEAD"

My first chapter of my new novel is featured at:

D. Renee Bagby Presents First Chapters

http://dreneebagbypresentsfirstchapters.blogspot.com/2011/10/over-my-head-by-ah-scott.html?zx=757d1ad85493b8d0

(see for yourself how the lives of the rich and pampered really get down to business)

(READ THE FIRST CHAPTER) "Over My Head" - Contemporary Romance by A.H. Scott

FIRST CHAPTER

OF

A.H. Scott's Contemporary Romance, "Over My Head"

Over My Head
by
A.H. Scott



Chapter One



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.......

End of Chapter One

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Over My Head - Contemporary Romance by A.H. Scott

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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....

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D. Renee Bagby Presents First Chapters - RACK EM by A.H. Scott

Just posted at D. Renee Bagby's Presents First Chapter Blog -

The First chapter of A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" is bubbling off the pages for your viewing. Take a few moments from your busy day and enjoy romance in the A.H. Scott way :

http://dreneebagbypresentsfirstchapters.blogspot.com/2011/10/rack-em-by-ah-scott.html

Romance Awaits.....