Through the Glass.
written by:
MSaintC

Greetings, dear reader. A friend of mine, an amateur writer like myself, recently proposed a challenge. She and I had traded erotic fiction in the past, and she's a big fan of this site. (I don't know if she submits stories here or not.) She challenged me to write one story for each category. The conditions were that I could not use the same characters/scenarios more than twice, and each story had to be a complete work in it's own right. So I hope you enjoy them. Feedback is always welcome, public or private (and hopefully positive ^.^)

This is my 18th submission. Sometimes you can look but can't touch. I hope you enjoy it.

Challenge #18: Voyeurism

=================================

"Hey, Mr. Wilson!"

The man who was currently being addressed, sighed heavily. It wasn't the first time someone had used that tired contrived line from Dennis the Menace as a joke. It wasn't even the tenth time, or the hundredth, it was simply old at this point. So tryingly old that he wanted to openly curse anyone who ever used it. But, this time, he'd let it go.

The man's name was Steve Wilson, often called "Slammin" Steve Wilson, a nickname earned after long career as a baseball player. He'd spent sixteen glorious seasons in baseball, only two of which were in the minor leagues, something he was fiercely proud of. Once he'd made it to "the show" as it's called, he never went back again, something a lot of young players can't say. He spent six good years in Kansas City, where he met and married his first wife, who eventually lost a tragic battle with early onset ovarian cancer. Five more seasons in Cleveland, where he met another lovely lady he married and then divorced after he found out she was the subject of many a gang bang while he was on the road with the team. Finally, three long and arduous seasons out in sunny California, playing for Oakland. Wife number three, as expected, was an actress, and as soon as his retirement from baseball was finalized, she traded in their marriage license for a young rookie that he had been mentoring. Needless to say, after that Steve was determined to get as far away from any city that contained a baseball team. Which brought him to a small town in Idaho, far away from even the minor league clubs. Steve had been retired for two years now, at the age of 40, which for most people was only the halfway point of their life, but as far as baseball and his own ideas were concerned, he was an old man. Retired, but far from dead.

The reason he would let the tired joke go this time, is because of who spoke it. When Steve moved to this small town, the house he purchased was one of two unoccupied residences in a small dead end street. After about 14 months of quiet living, "she" moved in. And "she" was fond of the tired joke.

"She" was also young, sexy, hot, and very, very uninhibited. That was why he would always let it pass when she said it.

Her name was Amy, and though her driver's license would say that she was a robust twenty six, she had the look of being able to pass for much younger, or a more mature age, if she chose. Sam himself was no slouch in the looks department. He was six foot even, with a playing weight of 195. His forte on the diamond was an all around player, he could hit for power, for contact, steal bases, make great defensive grabs in the outfield. He still had a rakishly handsome face, even if a bit weathered from all the years, stoic brown eyes and short black hair. But next to her, it was like comparing a Honda to a Rolls Royce. She was a pert 5'3", and a compact 130 pound frame. Her face was model beautiful, with long auburn hair framing it, and soft green eyes. She had a lean body with long killer legs and a packed 38C upstairs. She could have any man she wanted, and yet she moved in alone in a house across the street from an aging man the world was slowly forgetting about. In the ten months since her arrival, she'd made every effort to remind him that even at 40, his cock still worked. Though he was certain most of the teasing and flirty things she did was innocent in intention.

Steve hadn't been much into jerking himself off after his last wife left him, but her certainly picked up the habit again soon after she moved in.

Thus her greeting rang in the air, and it caused the sigh, as well as Steve to stop his chore of raking leaves. He turned to her her skipping across her yard, clad in denim shorts and a bikini top that was a half second from showing the world her assets. He set the rake against the bag of leaves on the ground and in two strides covered the distance to the fence that separated his home from hers. The fence was chest high to him so when she stood next to it, he couldn't see much of her aside from her face. He wasn't sure why he'd stepped over there, but he was certain it had something to do with his hardening dick telling him he'd like to see more of what she was wearing.

"Where's the fire, Amy?"

"Oh you.." She giggled. He always asked her that whenever she was running about, which was often. It was about as tiring as the Mr. Wilson joke, but one turn deserved another. "I just wanted to tell you my exciting news!"

She bounced excitedly in place, her breasts jiggling with the movements. Steve's eyes were immediately drawn to them, and lingered long enough that he was certain she would notice him checking her out. But if she did, she gave no sign of it at all.

"What's the good news?"

"Star Magazine liked my article, and they want to officially make me a correspondent for their Internet magazine!" This was accompanied by more excited bouncing, more jiggling, and more watching of said jiggle.

"That's great!" Steve didn't care for those kinds of tabloid magazines, especially after his marriage to an actress. They seemed to do more speculating and rumor spreading than give actual news, but he wasn't going to stamp all over her dreams. Not in that outfit.

"Mhm. Best part is, it'll be totally online, so I will be home more."

"Oh nice, you can make me more of that lasagna." He teased. She always maintained she wasn't much of a cook, but she made a pretty delicious lasagna.

"You bet!" She said, beaming. Then a moment later a look of realization crossed her features. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a CD in a paper sleeve. "This is what you want, it should do all the work and more."

"Huh... Oh, that." Steve had completely forgotten than he'd asked her if she knew how to fix his computer. It kept locking up for brief moments or programs would fail to open or close unexpectedly. She thought it might be registry errors and said she knew a guy who could make a disc that would fix it by itself so Steve wouldn't have to send his computer away for repairs. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She smiled broadly. "Now, I'm gonna have a shower and get started on researching the latest gossip for my first big column. I hope you'll check it out."

"Definitely." He smiled, knowing that she was simply teasing him, and wouldn't be hurt in any way if he passed it up.

She turned on her heels and headed inside, and Steve watched her perfect delicious ass sway with each step, before turning back to his lawn work.

--------------------------------------------- Later

Sometime after dinner, Steve sat down at his computer. Though he wasn't super rich, his investments of his baseball earnings meant that if he lived humbly, he could afford to not work if he chose. Thus his computer was a few years old, but like most men of age he was stuck in his ways and wouldn't outright by a new one when the old one acted up, not without trying to fix it at least. So he slipped the disc into the tray and pushed it closed. Soon after, a small window opened and informed him that the disc was installing a sweep program that would check for unknown or unauthorized programs, viruses, spyware, malware, all sorts of things that Steve didn't understand. The window went on to say that it would take some time, would work best if no other programs were open. Steve sighed, a little annoyed that this thing would take away one of his enjoyments he still held onto. He liked puzzle games, seek and finds mostly, and played them quite a bit. It took his mind off his memories of the game, or his wives, and gave him something else to focus on that was more interactive than the television. Now it seemed he'd be forced to spend some time with the good old boob tube.

"Just my luck..."

He stood up, and walked away from the desk, taking a seat in a chair in front of his modest TV. He turned it on, and struggled in vain to find something to watch, but nothing appealed to him. Shortly thereafter, he fell asleep in front of the screen. Some time after that, a little window appeared on the screen, informing the user that the sweep program was installed, and was in the process of doing it's thing. About an hour later, the window informed him that it found a few bugs in the system, and had corrected them, before shutting itself down. But two things remained on the desktop. An icon at the tail end of the neat rows already there, for the sweep program so it could be used again if needed. But in the bottom right corner, was a new icon that showed a surveillance camera and was labeled Look, But No Touch. This went unnoticed by the man in the chair, who was quietly snoring away.

------------------------------------------------- Next Day

Steve awoke with a start, in the same chair he'd went to sleep in. After standing and stretching out his tired joints, he looked over at the computer and found it to be in sleep mode. He walked over and tapped the mouse to interrupt the sleep, and everything looked to be normal. He thought about sitting down for a moment and seeing what new games he could find, but that wouldn't get anything done. There was still a ton of yard work to do. He was about to turn away, but the corner of his eye caught an unfamiliar blue icon in the bottom right corner of the desktop. He thought it peculiar, so he took a seat and looked at it for a moment.

"Look, but no touch?" He said under his breath. What on earth did that mean?

His hand grabbed the mouse and double clicked the small icon, conveniently forgetting Amy's warnings about strange programs and weird changes. She had told him to run his virus scanner before opening anything of the sort. A window popped up, with six squares on it and nothing else. Each square had a simple word. He mumbled each to himself.

"Bathroom, Bedroom, Patio, Parlor, Hall.. Kitchen..? What's all this? Rooms of a house?"

He clicked on bedroom, and the square grew until it was the size of the original window, almost completely full screen on the monitor. Sure enough, he was looking at a bedroom, through some kind of security camera, but there was no way to tell who's bedroom he was looking into. Nobody was in sight, and aside from the comforter being a lighter color than the carpet or the walls, he couldn't tell much. On the bottom left of the camera view, there was two small buttons, one labeled B&W, which was checked, and one labeled color, which was not. Steve checked the box marked color, and sure enough the grainy black and white view was replaced with one of color. The comforter was a light pink, the wall was off white and the carpet was a dark green, but other than that, no indication of what he was actually looking at. He hit the back button to bring back the original six squares and did a quick sweep of them. They were the same type of instance, a black and white or color view of a different room in someones house. But who's house was still a mystery, as he saw no-one, nor any personal affects that would give indication.

"What is this? I wonder if that disc Amy gave me had something to do with this." He reached over and grabbed the telephone in it's cradle next to the computer, and dialed Amy's number. He waited patiently while the phone rang a few times, but there was no answer. "She must not be home. Ah well, I guess I'll just do my yard work and wait for her to show up."

Steve went to close out the program, then decided against it and left it on the six squares. He stood slowly, watching the screen as if something might happen just as he was about to look away, but nothing did. He shrugged and went outside to do his yard work.

--------------------------------- 3 hours passed

Steve hung around outside as long as possible. His yard work had been mostly finished the day before, so all he needed to do was clear some new leaves and weed eat around where his mower couldn't get to. He was done in about thirty minutes, but Amy has still yet to make herself seen so he found reasons to be outside, hoping to catch her pull into her driveway. It was shortly after noon, and he was seriously contemplating saying to hell with it and going inside for lunch, when her car pulled into her driveway. She stepped out of it as he headed her way, dressed in very short denim shorts and a tight white tank top. She turned towards the house, seeing him making his way towards her with his hand raised to flag her down. She hustled over to him, also causing a little jiggle motion in her ample bosom.

"Hey, Mr. Wilson." No loud joke this time, she must be in a hurry. "I only have a second, what's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to ask you if you knew what was on that disc you gave me yesterday. Some weird little icon appeared. There was one for the sweeper thing that I know is supposed to be there, but there's another one."

"Did you open it?" Was her involuntary response.

"No." He lied, he knew he wasn't supposed to have. "I wanted to see if you knew anything about it."

"What's it called?"

"Look, but no touch." No sense lying about that.

"Hmmm.." She folded an arm across her midriff while the other went to her chin as if she was deep in thought. "Nothing I've ever heard of. Maybe it was hidden in your PC and the sweep program found it. Run the virus scanner I installed and if it says it's clean, open it up and then tell me what happens. But right now I gotta run."

"Sure, Amy. I'll do that. You take care."

"You too Mr. Wilson."

She hustled into the house, and he got a nice view of her long legs and bubbly backside. He watched the space she vacated for several long moments, before heading back into his own home. The computer was as he left it, and he sat down at it. When he mentioned to her a while back that he hated paying out the nose for virus protection, she offered to get him a dedicated virus blocker and protection program, created by ex-hackers turned into computer security technicians and distributed for free as a kick to the face of companies like Norton and McAfee. The program ran for a few minutes, checking everything under the sun, which wasn't much, and soon declared that no new negative problems were discovered. The spycam program was either free of any harm, or the protector had no idea that it was, and since the protector was updated and worked on constantly that was unlikely. He scratched his head and just stared for a few moments before curiosity got the better of him and he opened the spycam program. The six squares came up as before, and he just started at the boxes with their little labels, unsure what he was doing, or what he was expecting. He clicked on bedroom, and saw the same bedroom as before. Nobody was present. The bathroom and the parlor were just as empty. But in the kitchen...

"What the..."

He saw Amy, in living color, walking around the kitchen in her tank top and shorts. She had the phone to her ear and was engaged in conversation as she went about her business. The audio was there, but it was dependent on how close Amy seemed to be to the camera, so sometimes it was a bit muffled.

"I... I shouldn't be watching this.." Steve said to himself, but try as he might, he couldn't turn himself away. She was entrancing. The way she moved, the way her body glided gracefully with each step. She turned and looked around, and for just a split second, she was looking in the camera's direction and their eyes met. But if she noticed she was being spied on, she gave no indication of it at all. "Did.. her friend put cameras in her house? Is he spying on her? I... I should tell her."

But he didn't move, he simply watched her walk around her kitchen, and listened to her talk on the phone. The conversation was pretty mundane, though he didn't have a clue who she was talking to. Shortly, though, she hung up her phone and after a moment of holding the phone against her lips like she was contemplating something, she dialed another number and waited.

"Hey Cammie." She said cheerfully as the call was seemingly connected. "I've been thinking about what you said. Yes, about my girls."

"Girls?" Now Steve was confused, she had told him she had never had children, maybe she was referring to others she was close to.

"I've been thinking..." She propped herself on her kitchen counter, next to her refrigerator. It was a new model, gleaming silver and she was looking at her reflection in it. She lifted her tank top, exposing her ample breasts. "That I want some big.. no, I want some huge tits."

Steve's mouth fell open, but as his jaw went south, his cock was suddenly pointed northward ho. This was wrong, he knew it inside his head that he should turn this off and tell her that someone installed spy cameras in her house. Whoever gave her this disc to give to him was a super tech creep. He could lie, tell her that he never saw anything naughty when he looked at it, that he told her as soon as he realized what it was. She'd believe him. But.. he was interested in this., where-ever it was headed. Though seeing her perky breasts certainly made it more appealing to keep looking.

"Not sure how big, but just.. bigger.. huge. Porn star tits." One hand felt herself up, roaming the tender flesh of her bosom, pinching her nipples, forcing the little buds to harden with arousal. "I've seen the way men look at you and your big breasts, I want that same feeling."

Amy stopped to listen to what the other person was saying, at the same time, she checked herself out in the reflection. She leaned back, puffing her chest up at the same time sucking in a breath to increase her mammary mass, but it was short lived as she exhaled. She leaned over and reached under the ice maker in her fridge door, popping out a single cube and holding it in her hand for a second, then slowly rubbing it on her taunt nipple, making it even harder and turning her skin into a field of chill bumps. Her head leaned back and her eyes closed for a long moment. The person on the phone must have asked what was going on.

"Oh, just rubbing ice on my nips. Mmmm.." She moved from nipple to nipple, the cube slowly getting smaller as the time passed. "Yea.. horny as fuck, actually."

Her hand drifted lower, unbuttoning the button on her shorts and letting the zipper slide down as her hand pushed it's way inside. Her hand slid up and down for a few small strokes, then her knuckles pressed against the denim, indicating her finger found a hole to penetrate.

"Finger my pussy? Oh, Cammie.. you of all people should know that I'm hammering away at my hot cunny already. Love fucking myself.. so hot." She moaned loudly into the phone, so loud that it was clear even on Steves end. "Just wish I had a cock to put in it. ....You mean Steve?"

Steve suddenly perked up, she had both his rapped attention and his cock twitching at the mention of his name.

"Be kind of weird to just call my neighbor and tell him to come shove his cock in my pussy. Maybe one day. He is a big hunk of man, and I bet he's packin a behemoth cock... Mmmmm..." Her hand started to move faster inside her shorts, pleasuring her body and causing her to shiver. "Make myself cum? You naughty slut.. I bet you'd like to be here to lick it allll up, huh?"

Amy leaned back, her hand moving faster inside her shorts. She was shaking as she masturbated, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering on the counter. Steve watched, his hand subconsciously fishing his throbbing seven inches from his pants and beginning to stroke it. Amy moaned loud, the sound echoing throughout the kitchen. She shuddered, the free hand pawing at her chest, squeezing her firm breasts and pinching her nipples so hard it looked like she was trying pull them off.

"Mmmmmmm.. cummminnnngggggggg..." She yelled out, completely unconcerned with her volume, as far as she was concerned, she was alone in her own home, completely in private. Steve felt like an utter disgrace that he watched the whole thing, even more so when a surge rushed through him and he came in a torrent, cum landing on his desk and coating his pants. Steve looked at the mess he created, and sat numb for a time, in a self contained bubble of shame. When he looked up again, Amy was off the counter, dressed again and was going about her business. He mutely closed the spy camera program and sat in his shame. He couldn't tell her now, could he? Hey, I saw you in your kitchen on this spy program.. Yea, that would work. She'd immediately assume he saw her masturbating and be furious. He didn't know what to do, so he just cleaned himself up and went upstairs to take a nap.

------------------------------------------ After dinner

Steve walked away from the kitchen after cleaning the mess from dinner, and walked past the computer. That little icon in the corner stared at him like an accuser. You watched your neighbor masturbate, you pervert, it seemed to say. Steve hesitated, staring at it like it was going to jump up and lecture him or call the authorities. Finally, he has no idea why he would do so, he sat down in the chair, and double clicked the icon again, bringing up the six boxes. He didn't have a conscious thought that this was a bad idea, but nor was he thinking that it was a good one, he was simply doing it. He checked around the various boxes, not seeing Amy, until he clicked on bathroom. She was standing there in nothing but a towel, warm bath water still in the tub. She seemed to have just finished taking a bath. She turned on a heel, then stopped for a second and Steve could swear she looked up at the camera, but then her hand rested on her chin and he realized she was simply in thought. Then she dropped her towel, exposing her beautiful naked body.

"Yea, I think it's time for a shave. What do you say legs?" She lead her head down like she was listening to them speak. "What's that cunny? You too? You got it sister."

She sat on the edge of the tub, her foot once again stopping the drain to keep some warm water in the bath. She slipped one foot inside the tub and spread her legs, blossoming like a flower, and revealing her pussy lips to the all seeing camera, and Steves eyes. Slowly she lathered cream on her svelte legs, and then gently ran the razor over them. She finished her right leg, the one inside the tub, and moved the razor to her left hand, while her right hand gently fell between her legs and teased her swollen lips, spreading them open as she gently stroked them with a fingertip. She cooed as her left hand began to clear the other leg of pesky hair.

"What's that cunny? You want a finger? Say pllleeeeeaaassseee." Clearly her pussy was not going to actually speak, but she leaned her head down like she was listening. "OK, if you really wannaaaaaa.."

Her left leg was finished, and she set the razor down as her right hand slid two fingers into her heated pussy. She began to finger herself slowly, deliberately, like she was just trying to please herself rather than actually achieve orgasm. Her left hand found the small can of shave gel and dispensed it above her snatch, on her triangle of dark hair. The can was replaced on the lip of the tub and her hand retrieved the razor, and slowly she stroked it over her skin, removing all the unwanted hair. During none of this, did her fingers stop fucking her tight hole. Steve watched, mesmerized. He'd heard that watching a woman shave her pubic hair was erotic, but he'd never witnessed it himself. But to say his cock was hard was an understatement. It begged for release from it's confines, and without realizing it, Steve had let it free. His hand held the base, and slowly started to move up and down as he watched Amy rinse her legs and mound of the leftover shave gel, and settle back against the wall of the shower. Her right hand remained busy, alternating between rubbing her lips and clit, then penetrating her hot cunt with two long fingers. Steve's right hand remained busy as well, sliding up and down his throbbing seven inch shaft in perfect unison with her own movements.

"Ohhh.. oh fuck.. I'm cumming.. cumming.. cummmmmmming!!!" She moaned aloud, her body convulsing on the rim of the tub.

"Fuuuck.. I'm cumming too!" Steve groaned as cum rocketed from his cock for the second time that day, covering his pants and some landing on the desk.

"Uhhh.. ohhhh.. Steve..." She moaned, almost in a murmur as she came down from her orgasmic bliss.

Steve couldn't believe he'd heard it right. He must've been hearing things, no? No way his hot sexually active neighbor fantasized about him. But what if she did? There was no way he could act on it without admitting that he'd seen her in the toe curling throes of orgasm. He could flirt harder, give her signs that he'd be down for some no strings sex, but then he'd just come off as a creepy old man, hitting on a hot young woman. So what to do? He could simply keep watching her, sitting here most of the day trying to catch her masturbating, but did that make him any less of a creep? It was a classic catch-22, a situation with no solution. Steve was staring ahead blankly, and didn't notice that she had left the bathroom. He thought about trying to follow her around using the other cameras, but the very idea left him with a hateful and disgusted vision of himself. So, he simply turned off the computer and went upstairs to bed. He didn't sleep right away, simply tossed and turned while trying to get over the sickening feeling in his chest over how depraved he had become.

------------------------------------------ Next Night

Steve didn't touch his computer most of the next day. He would think to, and then a horrible feeling of guilt and shame would come over him, and he'd pass on it. It was late the next night before he finally got over it, and mustered the courage to turn it on. But rather than play a game, or check his email, the first thing he did was open the camera program. A general clicking around found Amy in her bedroom, wearing nothing but a paper thin nightgown, brushing her auburn hair in the mirror on her dresser. She finished her task, setting the brush down and standing, stretching back, turning her body toward the camera as she did so. Steve watched her pull the nightgown up over her head, and throw it off to the side, climbing up onto her big queen bed and laying back, stretching her full sexy body out on top of the sheets.

"Woo.. yea, far too hot for clothes or covers tonight.. sheesh, I'm sweating already." She stated, barely loud enough for Steve to hear.

"I see something else that's hot." Steve muttered to himself.

"Oh, come on, cunny.." Amy said to herself, arcing her back in a stretch as her hand casually drifted between her legs to rub her pussy. "You came twice yesterday and you still want more?"

Steve found himself leaning slightly forward, his hand sliding down and touching the slow stirrings of an erection in his boxers. He'd had a full day to recover from the two loads he blew watching her yesterday, and his balls were heavy and ready. The blood flowed freely, and his cock grew in size and strength until it managed to push it's away out of the flap in his boxer shorts.

"Well, ok.. I'll get out Steve, Jr." Amy said, and Steve nearly fell out of the seat when from her top drawer of the nightstand she pulled a flesh colored dildo, one of the ones that was supposed to simulate a real cock. Amy laid back and slowly rub the thick head over her swollen pussy lips. "This better cunny? You want to get fucked, do you?"

Steve's hand grasped the base of his shaft, fully and almost painfully erect, but he waited to start stroking until she pushed that thick toy deep into her folds. She moaned aloud, shivering as the fake cock pushed it's way deep inside, and then slowly with careful measured strokes she moved it back out, and then in, thrusting the cock into her hot and hungry pussy. Steve started to stroke himself in time with her movements, expecting that she would soon pick up her pace as the pleasure hit and she moved closer to orgasm. He had his eyes locked on her lovely body, all spread open and naked beauty, hammering away at her snatch with a dildo that bore his name. Suddenly, he locked eyes with her. Time seemed to stop for a moment as it registered that he was looking at her look back at him. This wasn't a casual glance like before, she was looking directly into the camera. Her hand kept pushing the dildo in and pulling it back out with the same speed, but the other free hand reached over to the nightstand and picked up her cell phone, but never did her eyes leave the camera. Steve watched, puzzled, his hand no longer moving, until his house phone ringing jarred him back to reality. It was right by the computer, so he hesitantly reached over and picked it up.

"H.. hello?" He said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Like what you see?" Her voice was husky and full of lust. Clearly, he was busted. "I know you watched me.. in the kitchen.. in the bathtub.."

"I.. I'm sorry.. I..." He started to stammer.

"Don't be." Her voice was authoritative, someone who knew more than she let on. "Who do you think put that program on the disc? Who do you think set these cameras up? I want you to see me. I've been just going about my day until I heard the beep that tells me you're watching, and then I put on a show.. for you."

"..I.. I don't know what to say."

"Say you've enjoyed it. Say you've gotten off as much as I have. Say that you want me.. you want my body.." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "Say you want to fuck me.."

"I've.. wanted to fuck you since I met you, Amy."

On the screen, she pulled the thick toy from her hot pussy, and licked it with her tongue. "Then come over here and fuck me..."

Steve was out of the chair and out the door. His cock sticking out the entire time he walked out of his house and across the lawn to hers. She was where he left her, on her back, legs spread wide out, her arms hooked around her thighs to keep herself spread wide. No words were said as he joined her on the bed. But the little button on the remote on her nightstand showed that she'd remotely set the camera on his end to record. This.. would be a good tape.

-End-

=====================

I hope you enjoyed this story. If you want to see more from these characters, or continuations of the other stories I publish, feel free to request them and I'll try to get around to it. As always, feedback is welcome, public or private. But try to be somewhat constructive. It you loved it, tell me what you loved. If you hated it, tell me why. I can't be a better writer if all you tell me is how much I suck. Until next time.

Also, I recently lost a bet with a female fan, and have a new profile picture. Part of the agreement also says I put a reminder in every story for you lady readers to check it out and say what you think. So, there is your reminder. :) (honestly, this part is probably over by now, but eh, I'll just leave it as is.)

Also my author interview is up! Much thanks to Naughty Miranda for that.

-Mark St. Claire.