- Hits: 3330
Naughty Reads: The Sex Doll
When Kelly Dongle gets nominated to onboard a new financial client, the last thing she expects is to run into on her three-hour road trip is an antiques and toys store. Unable to stop herself, she walks inside to see the best antique doll she's ever seen in her life. For being almost 100 years old, it's in fairly good condition as if it's never left a display case. Of course, it doesn't have a display case now, but that doesn't stop Kelly from purchasing it. She puts the doll in the passenger's seat with her and drives onward to her destination. Once she arrives back home, she plans to display the doll in her guest bedroom in order to add ambiance and visual stimulation, but before she can do that, she is plagued by strange dreams and erotic fantasies that she's never experienced before. Could it be the doll?
Opening Credits in Audio
Chapter 1 - The New Toy
Kelly Dongle passed mile marker 153 on her way out of Central City. It was going to be a long night. She'd gotten a call late in the afternoon to meet a a man named Jack Streaker. Kelly couldn't help laughing at his last name. Her first vision was of a man running around downtown Goatshead in nothing but a trench coat, flashing his willy to random strangers. Kelly was then assured by her boss that Mr. Streaker was extremely professional to spite his unfortunate family name. Then, they'd both laughed until they were interrupted by the secretary. Regardless of the hilarity of Streaker, Kelly's task was clear. She was to onboard Mr. Streaker and inform him of their lucrative investment opportunities. Kelly was hoping to get him to invest at least one million. That would mean that their two percent fee would result in a 50/50 split of $20,000, minus the secretary's wages, which were $10 an hour and random business expenses. When it was all said and done, Kelly expected a check of $8,000 or better for a few days work. She'd pay her rent for the next three months, buy food and bank at least half of that.
It was now after seven, and Kelly had another two hour drive to Goatshead. By the time she found a hotel, got some food and got settled for the night, it was likely to be midnight or later. Her meeting with Mr. Streaker was at ten in the morning. While it wasn't early by business hours, it was early to Kelly.
She dialed up the cruise control to 80. The speed limit was 75, but she wanted to arrive as soon as possible. Not to mention, increased speed didn't look to be an issue on this road. There'd barely been any traffic, and the weather was clear.
As the clock ticked closer to eight, Kelly found herself starving. She looked for the next exit. It was ten miles ahead in a town she'd didn't know existed. Sessu. It had a population of 5,000 and the tagline on the sign read - Most Satisfied Place on Earth.
Kelly didn't care how satisfied the residents were with their living arrangements. All she cared about was what was on the menu. Luckily, there was a Wendy's at the off-ramp. She turned onto the exit and hit the brakes. As promised, the Wendy's was easily viewable from the ramp. Kelly turned left then took an immediate left into the parking lot. Her cracked window allowed the smell of deep fried, salty French fries into the car.
She pulled into the drive-through and waited. Surprisingly, there were two cars in front of her. She guessed she wasn't the only starving late evening driver on the road who'd had a minuscule lunch of granola bars and Diet Coke.
Once she arrived at the speaker and menu board, she ordered a spicy chicken sandwich, large fries and a large Diet Coke. The total came to a whopping nine dollars. Kelly pulled forward to the first window and paid the lady in cash. Then, she pulled forward to the second window to get her bag of food.
Kelly parked in the lot to eat, leaving the engine on. She ate the bag fries first. Those were always the best. Then, she ate her sandwich while watching the cars in the rearview mirror. It was a busy little Wendy's. It had to be traffic from the Interstate. She couldn't imagine a town of 5,000 giving a Wendy's enough business to justify staying open.
She was just finishing her massive box fries when she noticed a red neon sign behind her. It wasn't in the Wendy's parking lot, but it sure looked like it when she was looking in her mirror. The sign was for Goathead's one and only antique store and toy shop.
Kelly turned her head. The damned open sign was lit. She checked the clock. It was almost nine. "I bet they close at ten."
She tossed her trash in the bag and the bag on the floor. After putting the car in gear, she backed out of the parking space and starting looking for the parking lot exit that would lead to the antique store and toy shop.
Kelly loved antiques and toys. After three years, she was still trying to design the guest bedroom in her house but never could find the right pieces. It was her hope that this out of the way place had the decor that she needed to finish the room so she could start having guests over for the weekends and on holidays.
Kelly parked next to the ramshackle wooden building and turned off the engine. She stepped out of her car, closed the door and looked at the building. If it had been in the middle of a corn field, she would have thought it abandoned. Goathead's one and only antique shop and toy store had to be at least 100 years old. The wood siding had long since lost its paint, and more than half of the exterior boards looked rotten and rotted, even in the darkness. Kelly wouldn't have been surprised to learn it was infested with termites and other nasty pests, like rats.
To spite the condition of the building, Kelly opened the old-style wooden door and walked inside. "Whoa..." She was surprised to find the inside well-lit and clean. The floors were wood, but they looked as though they'd been refinished in the last five years. The shelves were modern. At least, the ones up-front looked like any shelving unit you'd see at a big box retailer. The shelves in the back of the building looked older, and the ones along the back wall were definitely original with the building.
"Can I help you?" An old man asked as he approached her.
Kelly turned to see a man chewing on an unlit cigar. He was clean-shaven, but had long since gone bald, and whatever hair he had owned had been replaced with liver-spots. "I'm looking for a few pieces to finish off a guest bedroom."
"Are we talking shelving, paintings, knickknacks?" the man asked.
"All of the above," Kelly said. "And I wouldn't mind seeing your antique toys."
"Of course. This way," the man said.
Kelly followed him to the back of the store, watching as he frequently took the cigar out of his mouth then stuck it in the gap created by two missing teeth.
"Pictures are here. Most are more than 50 years old. A few are older than that." He walked down the aisle. "Haven't gotten many toys in recently. What I have is here." He looked at the far end of the store. "And all the knickknacks are located at the far end. Last two aisles. I'll be at the front counter if you need anything else."
"Thank you." Kelly started by browsing the paintings. None were in good enough condition to hang. She thought she'd spend more in refurbishing them than they were worth.
Kelly walked down to the toy section. As promised, there wasn't much available. A few old wooden board games, decayed teddy bears and broken dolls. However, one game did catcher attention, it was called Fortune and looked like an older Parker Brother's game. The box appeared to be in good condition, so Kelly set it on an empty section of shelf and pulled off the lid. The board and all the pieces appeared to be inside. She put the lid back on and carried it with her while she browsed the other toys, searching for something that looked like it didn't belong in a landfill.
Kelly carefully moved a few toys so she could see the ones in the back. After moving a moth-eaten stuffed bear, she spotted what looked like a child's doll dressed in a sailor's outfit.
Kelly pulled it off the shelf and examined it. It was wearing pants and a shirt. It had short hair, but she couldn't tell if the doll was meant to be male or female, and she wasn't sure if these were the original clothes. Their condition was pristine, and if she had to guess, they were replicas of an old sailor uniform. She lifted up the doll's shirt to check the condition of the body. To her surprise, it wasn't stuffed. Instead, it was carved out of wood with carefully crafted joints that allowed the arms, legs, ankles and wrists to move. It surprised her because the head was so smooth, she thought it was porcelain instead of painted wood. Kelly decided to purchase the doll. Being wood, it was unlikely to break if someone dropped it, and the clothes were in such good condition that she wasn't going to have to replace them with modern doll clothes or preemie baby clothes.
Kelly glanced at her watch and cursed. It was almost ten. She wasn't going to find a hotel until midnight. She hurried to the front of the store and placed the board game and doll on the counter.
"I see you found some items," the old man said.
"A couple. I'm sure I'll be back. There were lots of interesting things," Kelly said. "Unfortunately, I'm on a time crunch now."
"It is getting late." The old man rang up her purchase. "That'll be forty-five dollars even."
Kelly dug through her purse and found two twenties and five ones. She handed them to the man.
He put her money in the drawer and handed her the receipt.
"Oh, I don't need that," Kelly said. "Just throw it away."
"You'll want it," the old man said. "That doll has been returned five times this year."
Kelly looked at the doll. "Is it infested with bugs? Cause I don't need that. I just had the exterminator out at my house, and it wasn't cheap."
"Not that I know of. They just said it didn't work for them," the man said.
"That doesn't make any sense. How's it supposed to work? It just sits on a shelf?" she asked.
"They said it moved like Elf on a Shelf," he said.
"Well, they obviously have some prankster family members." Kelly put the receipt in her purse. "I think I'll be fine with it. It's going in my guest room."
"Good luck with it. Thirty-day no questions asked return policy," the old man said.
"Thanks." Kelly walked out of the building. She put the board game in the trunk but set the doll in her passenger's seat.
- Hits: 698
THE BLOODDOLL FACTORY II
William Wilson is torn as a new clinic director (Kane Devonshire) takes over ESA and continues to sell babies as vampire food. While William doesn’t believe the vampire is worse than Blackwell, his Bonded just might be. The violent redhead has been known to attack every human she encounters. She’s unpredictable, dangerous and might just have to be put down along with Kane.
The only question is how. Kane immediately forced William, Sadie, Bill and Dr. Jones to drink his blood, and with a Sunday night meeting looming, William is certain everyone at ESA will have to drink vampire blood or risk being murdered. With everyone at ESA under the control of Kane, they either need to find a new untainted employee, or they must convince another vampire to kill Kane.
Buy Now on Audible - On my to-do list
I seem to have misplaced my copy of Blooddoll 2. However, there's a preview available on Amazon.
- Hits: 3622
THE BLOODDOLL FACTORY
The original cover is shown here. Amazon has the prude cover. If you want this cover, it's on Barnes and Noble as a paperback or a hardback.
An unemployed male nurse lands a job at a reproductive clinic only to learn the babies he is helping to create are being sold to the local vampire population.
After being unemployed for a year, William finally receives a call to come into Elite Surrogates and Adoption (ESA) for an interview. The sterile white interior does nothing for his confidence as he’s led to Sadie Jones' (HR manager’s) office where she proceeds to question him about his job experience and reproductive knowledge.
It all goes well in this paranormal medical romance until William realizes that he’s going to have to “perform” for the job. Fifty dollars an hour would help him catch up on his mortgage and get his wife to stop nagging him about the bills. However, using his own semen to propagate the reproductive cycle is more than a little weird. After considering the job and the busty HR manager, he agrees to continue the interview.
CHAPTER 1 – THE INTERVIEW
William Wilson walked through the glass and stainless steels doors of Elite Surrogates and Adoption (ESA) with his briefcase in hand. He spent the morning flipping through the suits in his closet to find the perfect interview attire. After 25 minutes and numerous warnings from his wife, he decided on a basic black off the rack jacket and pants with a white shirt and a red tie.
Now, his hard-soled shoes echoed across the white tile floors. The walls and ceiling were equally white, only broken apart by the steel of the wide chair railing. It reminded him of one of the clean rooms he’d been assigned to when he worked for Community Hospital, except the sterile interior design of ESA seemed to span the entire building.
One-hundred feet in front of him stood a black information desk with the front higher than the back. William ventured to guess, it was made out of marble. The contrast caused him to double-check his surroundings. The rest of the area was white. When the receptionist acknowledged him, he spoke. “I have an interview with Sadie Jones at ten.”
“Your name please?” she asked.
“William Wilson.” He watched as she stared at her computer monitor and hit a few keys on her keyboard.
“I see you here. I’ll let Sadie know. You can have a seat.” She motioned to the white and metal chairs located in a small seating area, which was defined by a white commercial rug with off-white edges.
“Thank you,” William said before turning and occupying one of the seats. It smelled like fresh plastic. William expected it. This was the new ESA clinic. They’d moved from a location across the street from Community Hospital to this new building in downtown Indianapolis shortly before William had been fired.
He checked his watch. It read five till ten. He was early and hoped they would see it as a positive.
His watch read ten after ten when he heard and elevator door open and watched a woman who appeared to be in her mid-30s exit. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, matte black belt, high heels and a white dress shirt with the top three buttons unbuttoned.
“Mr. Wilson.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sadie.”
William stood and shook her hand in greeting. “A pleasure, I’m William Wilson.”
“I’m so glad you could make it. Follow me. My office is upstairs.”
“Of course.” William said as he followed her into the elevator. He wasn’t surprised to find the interior steel of the elevator matched the wide chair railings that snaked their way through the corridors.
“Did you have trouble finding us? We recently moved.”
“No, not at all. Google Maps was quite the help.” He grinned when he heard her laugh.
“My office is this way,” Sadie said.
William followed her off the elevator and down to the end of the hall where there was a door instead of a window, indicating the end of the hall. He watched as she opened it and entered. William followed. “Did you want the door open or closed?”
“Closed please. You can be seated at your leisure,” Sadie said.
He closed the door then positioned himself in one of the large black leather seats in front of her desk. The chair was overkill for an office. It had to be either a La-Z-Boy or an Ashley, and he was further convinced when he looked down and saw a reclining lever.
His attention refocused on Sadie when he heard the rustling of paper. William assumed it was his resume.
“I see you have a bachelor’s of science in nursing and a computer science minor,” Sadie said.
“Yes, ma’am. I graduated in 1998,” William said.
“And you have almost 20 years of nursing experience. Most of it appears to be in the NICU,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. Though, for the last five years I was with Community East, I took care of the elderly. Slip and fall. Dementia patients.”
“Perfect,” Sadie said. “Well, let me tell you a little bit about ESA and the position. ESA was founded in 1960 by Dr. Jacob Blackwell. Since then, we have birthed and/or adopted almost 60,000 children, and we continue to be one of the most successful surrogate and adoption clinics in the country. Your position as a fertility specialist would be to propagate the fertility treatments and do everything within your power to ensure they are a success.”
“Of course,” William said. “I would be honored to help in the process. I understand how difficult it can be to conceive.”
Sadie nodded once. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any children? You can decline to answer.”
“I don’t mind the question. I don’t have any children. My wife is not fertile,” William said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She paused. “Are you fertile?”
He glanced around the room. “I was not the problem. She has PCOS.”
“Good, because that is a qualification of this job,” Sadie said. “We like our fertility specialists to also be donors. Are you familiar with the standard donation practices?”
“I am.” William said after clearing his throat. Talking about his fertility and jacking off into a cup was the last thing he expected to be discussing during a job interview. “It’s...” He cleared his throat. “Fairly straight forward.”
“You would be required to donate nightly,” Sadie said.
“I see,” William said as he tried to keep his facial expressions neutral.
“Would you have a problem with that?” Sadie asked.
“No.” William shook his head. It was an unusual request, but one he could live with given the hourly pay.
“The job, as I am sure you are aware, pays $50 an hour. That’s significantly higher than most of the comparable positions,” Sadie said.
“I am aware,” William said.
“Can I assume that’s why you applied?” Sadie asked.
“You can,” William said and was certain he had just blown his opportunity for a job offer. There was no way in hell they were going to be turned-on by a job applicant who was solely interested in the money. Most interviewers wanted to hear about how the applicant was motivated by the cause or determined to learn and advance quickly. William was interested in none of it. At this point in time, he was motivated by money, and the potential for a sign-on advance. He had heard through the grapevine that ESA paid a $5,000 sign-on bonus, and that money would help him catch-up his mortgage payment and other mounting bills.
Sadie smiled. “Excellent.”
“Excuse me?” William asked. He adjusted his position in the chair.
“Whenever I ask that question, I receive a heartfelt, prepared speech about how much the individual loves babies and wants to help barren women conceive. Your honesty is refreshing.” Sadie said as she unbuttoned the fourth button of her shirt. “Since you were honest with me, I am going to be honest with you. The position doesn’t require a drug test, per say, but it does require a battery of medical tests. In order to be considered,” she stood and walked around to the front of her desk, “you have to be healthy and free from any sexually transmitted diseases. You cannot have diabetes, high blood pressure, tuberculosis or any other chronic or communicable disease. Do you have any of those diseases or any diseases that would fall into that category?”
“I do not. At least, not that I know of,” William said as he watched her unbutton a fifth button. He could now see more than the edges of her bra. To remain polite, he focused on her face. “I don’t take any medications other than an allergy medicine and Advil for the occasional headache.”
“Over the counter medications are fine. When was your last physical?” she asked.
“As a nurse, I am required to get them yearly. My last physical was 12 months ago.”
“And I assume there were no problems?”
“None. Said I was healthy as a horse,” William said.
“You wouldn’t tell me if you had erectile dysfunction would you?” She said as she stepped between his legs.
“There’s a pill for that.” He watched in confusion and horror as she moved deeper between his legs. It caused him to scoot further back into the chair.
“Well, we don’t want you to take a little blue pill every night. We don’t think it’s healthy, and we don’t want you to damage your equipment. It is, after all, what will be earning your $50 an hour,” Sadie said.
“I… Yeah, I kinda figured,” William said.
“So how comfortable are you with your sexuality and sex?” Sadie asked.
“Uh… comfortable enough.” He stammered as he watched her hands move towards his belt. It looked as though she was going to unfasten his pants!
“Scoot towards me,” Sadie said.
He did as she said before clearing his throat. “What is going on here?”
“Your first test,” Sadie said as she unbuckled his belt. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you needed to be able to get and maintain an erection without medication.” She paused and watched him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” William said.
Sadie leaned back a few inches before unbuttoning the rest of the buttons on her shirt. She removed it and laid it across her desk. “Do you know how many of these interviews I’ve done in the past three years?”
“No,” William said.
“Hundreds, but only 30 were successful. Most of the men scramble out of my office the minute I unfasten their belts,” Sadie said.
“So, I’m doing better than most,” William said.
“So far,” Sadie said.
William watched her remove her skirt. To his surprise, she was wearing a bra but no panties, and she was shaven. He couldn’t imagine this was interview was legal. Yet, he found himself remaining in his seat as she leaned close.
Sadie pulled his belt free and tossed it onto the top of her desk before unzipping his pants. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell me immediately.”
“So you can stop and end the interview,” William said.
“And not have to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit,” Sadie said as she freed his penis from the confines of his boxers.
“I’ll let you know if I find this intolerable,” William said. He was incredibly uncomfortable. He was letting a strange woman manhandle his manhood in a job interview. This was insane.
- Hits: 299
AVIA Memories: A Short Story Collection
Detained – Avia and Benton
Avia pulled the throttle back and coasted to a stop between two tie-down hooks on the tarmac. She was a short walk from the beach and planned to spend the evening walking the sand and relaxing before departing on an overnight flight to her final destination.
What awaited her was a weekend of complete and utter solitude. It wasn’t something she wanted, but there was little she could do about it. It was also the perfect capstone to her craptacular week and this horrific run.
The run wasn’t a flaming disaster, but it was close. The moment she had rolled onto the last tarmac, police cars had surrounded her Seneca. If she had seen them while in the traffic pattern, she would have aborted the landing and flown to a different airport, but she hadn’t. They’d been hiding between two hangars, invisible from the traffic pattern and the runway.
Avia was positive those pigs had been tipped off, but damned if she knew who had done it. No one knew she was flying much less where she was landing, and she sure as hell hadn’t filed an ATC flight plan.
She had coasted to a stop on the tarmac, turned off the engines and started her post-landing checklist before a loud-speaker had ordered her out of the plane. She looked up as saw five police cars and 10 officers with their guns drawn. Avia put down her checklist, opened the cockpit door and stepped onto the wing-step only to be grabbed by two officers and slammed face down onto the tarmac. Their man-handling had resulted in cuts to her face, scuffs to her knees and bruises on her arms, thighs and hips.
She was allowed to sit after they cuffed her. Then, she watched as the cops allowed mangy mutts into her plane to search for drugs or whatever the hell they were trained to detect.
Avia didn’t care what it was. She cared that there were filthy dogs crawling through her Seneca, leaving mud, dirt, paw prints and dog slobber over the freshly cleaned surfaces.
Of course, the freshly cleaned surfaces meant the cops hadn’t found anything. They even opened the gas caps and sent a camera scope into them. That little trick caused Avia to laugh. She would never have thought to hide drugs in her gas tanks, and she decided it wasn’t a bad idea, except for the loss of fuel space, which she normally needed, even with the extended tanks.
When it was all said and done, Avia was furious. She’d stormed off the tarmac and into the terminal, taking the first right then left into a briefing room where she called her lawyer then Enterprise Rental Car.
She wasn’t supposed to be in town long enough to need a rental car or a hotel room, but by the end of the evening, she had both.
Avia threw her overnight bag on the closest bed and called for a pizza and Coke before dialing her suppliers. She was going to be late, and she didn’t want them venturing anywhere near the airport tonight. She could only imagine the heavy police presence that would be left behind.
The suppliers accused her of not wanting to pick up the shipment. She had, in turn, threatened to kill them all if that shipment wasn’t ready or went missing before she could pick it up. She also wanted to pick it up at their warehouse instead of having them deliver it to her plane at the airport.
They huffed and puffed but eventually agreed.
The pizza arrived just as she ended the call, and she paid for the meal in cash, giving the driver a $5 tip. She had debated giving him more, but she didn’t want the man remembering her.
Avia ate then called her lawyer to inform him of the tarmac snafu. The conversation was brief. He’d look into it.
Her last call was to the Company conman, Benton. She wanted his advice, but he hadn’t answered his phone, and as of right this second, he still hadn’t called her back.
That was last night. Early this morning, she had taken off again after retrieving the packages from the warehouse. She was destined for Sarasota where she’d put the packages on a waiting speedboat. From there, they’d move to The Company compound near the coast of Texas and eventually transported further inland for sale and distribution.
Unfortunately, the strong headwinds had forced her to land an hour earlier then she would have liked, and she was now sitting at an airport on the Florida panhandle instead of in Sarasota.
Avia slid out of the cockpit and onto the wing-step before jumping down to the tarmac. She grimaced. She was started to feel the effects of being slammed on the tarmac yesterday.
Looking around, she didn’t see any police, and the fuel truck was already parking at the nose of her plane.
Avia walked around her Seneca, looking for in-flight, cop and dog damage. She didn’t readily see any.
As she rounded the co-pilot’s side again, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from the holster and glanced at the caller ID. It was Benton. “Where have you been?”
Benton sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest as he drove. He could feel the argument already. “On a job for L. I had to turn my phone on silent. I just saw that you called.”
“Well, I needed you yesterday,” Avia said.
“What happened?” Benton asked.
“My run was almost busted,” Avia said.
“By?” Benton asked.
“The police,” Avia said.
“All right,” Benton said. “We can talk when I get there. Are you on the ground?”
“At the airport just outside of Pensacola.”
“Shields or Vaughn Private?” Benton asked.
“Shields,” Avia said.
“Okay. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”
“You’re that close?” Avia asked.
“The job was in Mobile. I finished about two hours ago. I’m 30 minutes from you. I planned to drive straight to Sarasota,” Benton said.
“Okay,” Avia said.
“Just meet me out front of the commuter terminal in about 30 minutes. We’ll go for a walk on the beach and talk,” Benton said.
“All right.” Avia ended the call.
Avia walked off the tarmac just as the lineman finished fueling her plane. She stopped at the desk nearest the tarmac doors to wait for the fuel receipt from the lineman.
“Seneca?” the woman behind the desk asked after reviewing the receipt.
“That’s the one,” Avia said.
“Fifty-five gallons at $2.80 plus tax is $164.78. How do you wish to pay?”
“Cash,” Avia said as she pulled a wad of hundreds from the pocket of her jeans. She counted two bills and handed them to the woman before putting the remainder back in her pocket. The woman handed her $33.22 in change. Avia put it in her other pocket, turned and walked to the doors leading to the parking lot.
She half-expected to be slammed to the concrete tiles and detained, but no one stopped her or said anything as she walked through the commuter terminal doors and into the parking lot. She didn’t see Benton’s car yet, and Avia sat down on a bench to wait.
Ten minutes later, she noticed a black Lincoln Towncar drive into the lot. She didn’t recognize the car but watched as it drove up to the front doors and stopped.
It was Benton! Avia stood just as he stepped out of the driver’s side.
“How was the flight?” Benton asked as he walked a-round and opened the passenger’s side door.
“Uneventful. This leg anyway,” Avia said then grinned. “Opening doors now?”
“I thought I might,” Benton said as she hugged him.