Five Word Chain Story
(10-21-2020, 12:39 PM)Mister Obvious Wrote: Suddenly, in walks a Martian...

She was into brain porn.
"What can I get for you two?" said the perky, cute waitress.

Johnny answered first "Coffee, black."

The waitress smiled and looked over to Delia "And you, ma'am?"

As if by instinct, or rather her bundles of nerves, she shot "The same..."

Unflinching, Johnny commented "No cream, or sugar?" 

Delia, finding herself quite displaced by the night's events, seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said hazily.

"Your coffee, you don't take cream or sugar?" he stamped out plainly.

"Uh.. no, NO. I... black is fine." she stammered.

"You alright, Delicato?" he asked.

It was then that she found herself. As if a spell had been broken.

"Yes, yes! Of course! I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?" said the obviously shaken Detective.

Johnny continued staring at her, feeling something was amiss.

"OK, you just seemed... different, is all" he admitted.

A subtle outrage grew upon Delicato's face.

"Different? Different HOW? What is that supposed to mean?" she seethed.

By this time, the girlish waitress had returned with their coffee.

"Two black coffees. Will there be anything else?" she asked beaming.

"No, thank you very much, this will be all" Johnny said politely.

"OK, enjoy!" said the nice young lady as she turned and walked away.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence: Johnny sipping at his drink and Detective Delicato
just staring at the table. He saw this but said nothing. He could tell it was something she'd
have to process and understand. In her own time.
Brains. Brains were braining everywhere.
Here they were all lovely.

Brain porn virtually made a reality.
I'm also staying within the confines of:

Click thread - click "New Reply" - Type - Proofread - Post.

If I take this into Text Edit and try to do it like a "real writer" I probably wouldn't
even have my second paragraph yet! It's like the pressure is on to see this through
and watch how it plays out in real time. Least I can do since discarding the 5 Word Rule.
[Very late that same evening]

Gail Atwood sat in a tall-backed Italian leather lounger in her candle-lit living room.
Holding a glass sparkling with the finest brandy, she gazed across the fantastically
decorated room before taking a drink. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. 

"Who the Hell could this be" she wondered aloud.

She waltzed carefully to her front door, not even asking who was there before throwing
it open. There, stood before her was Clive Rosemont, Vickie Meyer's chauffeur.

Gail squinted with disbelief. Clive, a well-spoken Englishman, broke the silence.

"Apologies for the hour mum, but Mrs. Meyer needs to see you, immediately" he said elegantly.

Atwood stood soaked in mild outrage and almost as much expensive liquor. 

"Are you out of your mind? It's after midnight! I'm not going anywhere!" she shouted.

"Please, mum, we shan't keep the Lady waiting" he offered sincerely.

Atwood knew she didn't have a choice in this. A wrong decision now would not only mean
her career, but possibly her life. This was not a gamble she would take.

"Fine! But I'll need a moment to get dressed. Is that alright?" she asked.

"Yes mum, do what you must. But tick-tock!" he said as he turned to descend her marvelous
granite stairs.

After closing the door, she approached the staircase but stopped. Turning around to view the
extravagant beauty of her sprawling home, she spanned the entire panorama. Taking it all in
just in case this was her last time to do so.
Is Vicki Meyer 'bout to do some Gus Fring shit?? lol
Sexy Psychopathic Stalkers Feel Too!
Martian rain the face of Venus.
The Bentley sailed quietly up the long driveway, finally pulling up just outside the home
of Mrs. Vickie Meyer. The well-manicured Mr. Rosemont exited the vehicle first to attend to
Ms. Atwood. 

"Please" he said as he carefully opened her door. "She's waiting" he continued.

Gail was taken aback by the immaculate home. She knew Vickie had been set up quite handsomely
by her late husband and oil tycoon but this was something unexpected. Its castle-like appearance
harkened back to the days of horse-mounted knights and fair maidens milling about their daily chores.

"Right this way, mum" said the always polite chauffeur as he led the way up the finely chiseled
marble staircase.

Atwood's eyes were almost rolling in her head. She'd never seen such beauty and grandeur in one
place before. It felt like a fairytale. But she was no princess. And that reality came crashing down
upon her once she crossed the threshold of this palace's front door.

"All the way back and to the right. She's expecting you" Clive said.

As Gail walked the long, old-world-styled hallway, a feeling of panic set in, her stomach suddenly
twisting in knots. This wasn't her usual experience. She was used to always being the aggressor.

Oh how perversely the tables had turned. The fear gripped deeper as the light in Vickie's back
study grew brighter. Closer. Closer she came. She could almost taste it. It was bitter on both
tongue and soul. There was a reckoning about to take place. Such a feeling of finality.

"Good evening, Gail" Vickie said with an almost child-like enthusiasm. "Welcome to my home."

Atwood stood paralyzed in the study's doorway. Unable to move or think.

"Please, come in. Have a seat" Vickie said gleefully.

Operating on auto-pilot now, Atwood mechanically jutted across the floor to sit down on an old
Victorian style chair. It probably valued higher than her own home. It was soft, but didn't let you
forget it's many years.

"We have some things to discuss" Vickie said in a now much colder tone.

Here it was. The end Atwood had been afraid of. First in word, then by deed. 

Vickie's words frothed in Gail's ears like heavy, dull static. She felt faint. 

This was true terror.
I would not want to be in THAT room right now!! lol
Vickie Meyer stood five feet and nine inches off the ground. Slim, yet sturdy. Her appearance was
like that of most the other women of her time; a mother, secretary or nurse. It was her demeanor
that set her apart. When speaking to her on friendly terms, you'd swear she was a Sunday school 
teacher but peel back the layers, find that terrifying lioness that lived just below her deceiving
surface and you'd be hard-pressed to find a more fearsome or formidable enemy.

You did NOT want to get on her bad side!

Mrs. Meyer casually walked about the room as Gail sat rigid in her coma-like nervous
breakdown. To be a fly on any of those walls.

"Do you know the importance of consistency, Gail?" asked the lady of the manor.

Atwood, still frozen in her dissociated state, followed Vickie around the room with her eyes, unable to speak.

"Do you know what it's like for many people, many very important people, to depend on you?" she asked.

The ice that buried Gail was still solid around her. The lump in her throat swelling, sweat beading.

"I'm not in a position to lose, Ms. Atwood. Far too much is at stake. Do you understand?" Vickie questioned.

Atwood was all but drooling. Fear had her locked away inside of herself. Taunting her with the only key.

"Do you have anything to say?" Vickie asked sharply. 

Gail could only muster the small whimper of a scared child. Vickie then stormed towards her.

"Hey! What's the matter with you? Are you drunk? SPEAK woman!!" yelled the angered socialite.

The sheer overwhelming force of those words slammed against Gail's barely-hanging-on consciousness
and as though by involuntary cue, she turned to the side and vomited all over Mrs. Meyers fancy
imported Persian rug. As embarrassing as it may have been, it did bring Atwood back to reality.

"My sweet God, you ARE drunk!" Vickie accused.

Trying desperately to gain enough composure to state her case, Gail wiped her mouth and searched
for the right words.

"I am so sorry, Vickie, I don't know what's come over me! I just... I feel, so unwell" cried Gail.

Vickie stood at a safe distance from the accident, looking down onto Gail's face with disgust.

"Perhaps tonight was not the best time for our little talk" she said.

"There's a lavatory in the hall, second door on your right. Go clean yourself up" Vickie said sternly.

Gail rose from her seat and hobbled towards the hallway. Fear still had its claws in her, but it was
now accompanied by shame. If karma were real, Gail Atwood just received a double dose.

Now in the washroom, Gail looked into the small mirror mounted just above the antique basin.
She looked terrible. Every bit the picture of Death warmed over, twice. Eyes, bloodshot. Face,
flushed. Teeth, chattering. Heart, racing. If this were a drug, it would be called Imminence.

Upon returning to the study, Gail witnessed the butler cleaning up the mess she had made.
Vickie walked over to meet her in the doorway.

"I'm having Clive take you home" she said, almost assuringly.

Gail was trembling. It was obvious that the night was too much for her.

"I'm so sorry for this, I can't..." she said as Vickie spoke over her.

"Get a good night's sleep. Take tomorrow off, get rested. Then we'll..." Vickie's words cut short by Gail's 
continued apology. 

"I'm just so sorr..." Gail tried to say before Vickie cut her off.

"Do. Not. EVER. Interrupt me. Understand?" she said through angrily clenched teeth.

Gail shook her head yes as tears began to flow. Vickie placed her arm around Gail's shoulder
and walked her into the hallway. Once to the front door, where Clive was waiting, she had a few
parting words.

"We'll just pretend tonight didn't happen, okay?" Vickie said reassuringly.

Gail pawed at the tears running down her face. Mrs. Meyer took on a monstrous expression.

"You will fix this" she said in words that felt like stone to Gail's ears.

Vickie then turned and took two steps before stopping and turning back around.

"Get her home safely, Clive" she said in measured kindness.

"Yes ma'am" was his reply.
Duuuuuude.... duuuuuude. lol
Just did a complete read-through. All up to speed now. Mostly. lol

I dunno y'all... there might be some craaazy shit poppin off tomorrow for these folks.

Not all bad. But nowhere near all good. WoooOoOooOooOOoOoooOoOoo, lol.

After having coffee, Johnny and Delia take a cab back to her hotel. Once inside the lobby, they stand next
to the elevator making small talk.

"You see to that knee, alright?" he says.

Delia swings her focus from the elevator to Johnny's concern.

"It'll take more than a scraped knee to do me in!" she quips with a smile.

The doors open and Delia steps inside. Johnny's eyes never losing sight of her magnificence.

"Tomorrow then" he says firmly.

"Bright and early!" she returns.

The doors close. Johnny stands staring like a love-sick schoolboy. He knew it was only a matter
of time before something happened. Before this woman of other-worldly wonder broke him. Most 
certainly a when, not an if. Would he be ready?
That elevator ride couldn't have felt any longer. Each floor an eternity. Her mind racing, her heart
beating wildly. She knew the trouble for which she was in store. All the fear, grief and pain. But somehow
this time it didn't matter. She welcomed it. Secretly. As though keeping it hidden from herself would
soften the blow. Not only was she in, but she was in deep. Delia knew, amidst all her restraint, that
her heart was destined for Johnny. Fear and uncertainty finally giving way to the inevitable.

She was in Love. 

Opening the door to her room, thoughts keeping her preoccupied, she failed to scan for signs
of intrusion and as if by habit flicked on the light. She turned and was startled.

"Your night just keeps getting better" said Orville Shotsworth, who was sitting on her bed waiting
to greet her on arrival.  

Delia was frozen. Standing there with Orville's gun trained neatly upon her.

"What do you want?" she asked in an unsure rasp.

Orville reached down onto the bed for a walkie-talkie sitting beside him.

"Do you see him?" he asked. A tinny voice lit by static returned "Yeah, we see him."

"Bag him!" Orville commanded. Delia's eyes widened in horror.

"NO! Don't!" she cried.

Orville lowered the talkie. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Don't. Please! Just let him go. This has nothing to do with him!" Delia pleaded.

Orville noticed the sheer terror in her eyes. He knew what this was.

"You have feelings for him" he said in an almost caring tone.

Tears welled up in Delia's eyes. Emotion had just gotten the better of her.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just leave him out of this. Please!" she begged.

Orville then raised the talkie back to his mouth. "Leave it. Let him go" he said.

That same radio voice came back "Are you sure?"

Orville confirmed "Yes, let him go."

Relief washed over Delia like a crashing tide but it was tears that wet her face.

"So what now?" she asked.

Orville shot her a cold glance before informing her of the night's plan.

"Well, we wait for lover-boy to get a little further on his way, then we leave." he said matter-of-factly.

"Where are we going?" she asked fretfully.

Orville's hard expression suddenly turned into a malicious grin.

She was worried.
Once again, Orville returned to the abandoned airstrip. This time, with a friend.

Delia was perplexed. Not sure what to make of it. And Orville was acting funny.

He sat behind the wheel nervously as the old bucket of bolts idled. He wasn't sure of his
next move. But he needed to get some thinking done. This was the place for that.

"We flyin' to the Bahamas?" she asked sarcastically.

He ignored her dig. His hands gripping tighter around the 10 and 2 positions of the steering wheel.

"Because I didn't bring my passport" she said with comic delivery.

Once the fear and panic had settled, Delia found her footing and if this were to be her end then
she would meet it on her own terms. By taking cheap shots at Orville. It was her way.

"I need a moment to think, can you please just keep quiet??" asked a very flustered Orville.

Delia relented. But only momentarily.

"What rating does this airline even have?" she asked nearly laughing.

"SHUT UP! Shut your goddamned mouth, NOW!!" screamed the very agitated man.

Delia knew he wasn't going to kill her. That's who he was taking her to, whomever that would be.

"Look, it's nearly 5am and the sun will be up soon. I'd like to take a nap, so can you turn the engine off?" she asked.

Orville lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror where he found Delia's veiled smirk.

"Not really in the position to be making demands, are you?" he said confidently.

"It was a request" she said in correction.

Orville turned the engine off. "Thank you" Delia said appreciatively.

The pressure was weighing on Shotsworth. He began mumbling to himself incoherently.

"Never before 6am, never before 6am, don't you ever disturb me before 6am..." he lamented.

Delia had slouched down in the back seat but couldn't help overhearing his words.

"Sounds like good advice to me" she offered.

Without missing a beat, Orville swung around with venom "You have an hour... make the best of it!"

He turned back facing forward. Finding another tight grip on the wheel.
Gail Atwood roused from a shallow sleep she had chance to find on her living room couch.
Her mouth was cottony. She was still reeling from her encounter with Vickie. Taking a deep 
breath, she stood from the couch and trekked towards the kitchen. Halfway through her journey
the doorbell rang. Her eyes rolled in disgust. She detoured from her path to answer the door. 
Opening up to a shocking sight.

"I'm so sorry ma'am, I didn't know where else to go" said a visibly shaken Orville.

Gail's expression of utter disbelief grew upon seeing his plus 1.

"I did not fail you, m'lady. I did not fail you" he muttered in tempered reverence.

"Good morning Detective" Gail said with robust welcome.

Delicato glared hatefully at the woman whose name she did not yet know.

Atwood opened the door wide as the two visitors entered.
With Gail leading the way, they all walk to the living room. Orville amazed at the ornate beauty
lining every wall. Delia isn't enjoying herself as much as he. 

"Let's all have a seat, chat for a bit, shall we?" Gail said with fake hospitality. 

Orville was still in awe of his surroundings. He'd never been inside Ms. Atwood's home before.
Always coming up from the back way, hidden from any prying eyes. 

"Orville, honey, would you be a dear and excuse yourself to the kitchen please" asked Gail.

Caught by surprize, Orville was delayed in answering. "Yes ma'am. Absolutely" he returned.

As he left the room, Gail's mind filled with questions for the lady Detective. 

"I guess you're wondering who I am?" Gail said with pride.

"I don't need to know your name. I know a black-hearted harpy when I see one!" Delicato fired.

Gail guffawed at the gorgeous blonde woman sitting across from her. Even in her disorganized
state, Detective Delicato still had the glow of a movie star. Natural beauty never betrays.

"Oh that sounds like sour grapes my sweet girl" Gail said in condescension.

Delicato was reaching the end of her tether. Now it was anger she felt.

"What the Hell am I doing here?" she demanded.

Atwood saw the fire rise quickly from her guest. It excited her in deep, dark places.

"Well honey, you've become a big problem for some very powerful people" Atwood explained.

Delicato shot daggers at Gail before jumping in.

"That's funny, I don't see you and powerful people being in the same building" she said flatly. 

Atwood didn't take the bait.

"Oh sweet, foolish girl... you have NO idea" she said with arrogance.

Atwood then stood and walked to the doorway, summoning Orville. He came running.

"Watch her while I make a phone call" Gail said pointedly.

Orville stood behind the couch where Delia sat, arms crossed, gun in hand.

Gail used the phone in her private study just down the hall.

"I have her. Here! Right now! What do you want me to do?" she asked.

Atwood hung the phone up, her face overcome with delight.
The stunning beauty of Gail Atwood's home always took visitors by surprize. It flowed with
a natural arrangement. Nothing out of place. Impeccably clean and tidy. This might lend to
the fact that Atwood was there very little of the time. That would limit the amount of damage
she could do. No servants or hired help. She wasn't that kind of a woman. But she did have
a taste for the finer things. And somehow, Delia Delicato made her way onto that list.

Gail returns to the living room with refreshments. Sweet lemonade and shortbread cookies.

"I'm sorry but this was the best I could do on such short notice" she offered.

Orville was first to pipe up and lick the boot.

"Befitting of a King, m'lady" he sniveled.

The Detective wasn't as gracious.

"Won't you help yourself, Delia?" Gail said in a saccharine tone.

Delicato looked across at Atwood and laid into her.

"Blow it!" she said angrily.

Gail felt that. But continued on with her charade.

"Well it's there if you want it" she said trailing off.

A long, uncomfortable silence arose. The only sound was that of Orville smacking down those
shortbread cookies. The tension in the room was thick and leathery. Like an old saddle. 

Then, the doorbell.

Gail stood and said "If you'll excuse me."

She left the room. Delia stared at Shotsworth with contempt.

"You like being the errand-boy of that soulless bitch?" Delicato asked.

He looked over at her and without flinching said "She saved my life. Took me in and made me the man that I am"

"Well, God knows you're perfect for one another" she answered back.

A woman's voice now called from the doorway. It wasn't Gail's.

"Orville, Gail needs you in the kitchen please" said this new guest.

Without thinking, he stood and immediately made his way out of the room. Delia heard gentle
footsteps coming up behind her. In seconds, another woman who Delia did not know was sitting
across from her. Right where Gail was sitting only moments before. This time, it was different.

This lady had a presence that Gail could only dream of. This was of great concern to Delia.
This woman sat and stared at Delia for an uneasy several seconds before finally speaking.

"Detective Delia Delicato. I have to say, it is truly an Honor to meet you!" said the woman.

Delicato knew this was no compliment. Her back was up and she was ready for anything!

"We've never met, but your reputation far precedes you" said the mystery lady.

Delia knew the longer this woman talked the deeper the trouble she was in.

"You are a living Legend. Like Royalty, without the self-importance or incest" she stated.

Hearing enough, Delicato decided it was time to move this meeting along.

"Why don't you say what you came here to say already?" barked the fed-up Detective.

The woman's face ignited, her eyes lit up and excitement washed over her.

"Woooooo!! Look at that! Look at it!! I can feel it! Taste it! That raw passionate power!" she cried. 

Delicato wasn't sure where this was going, but she knew it couldn't be anywhere good.

"Oh honey, you are a Tiger! An absolute Beast!!" she screamed with conviction.

Delicato now locked eyes with this woman in a subdued stare-off. Who would blink first?

"Delia, my name is Vickie Meyer and I've been waiting a long time for this day!" she said in earnest.

"I want you to take a ride with me. I'd like to show you something" Vickie said.

Delicato wasn't exactly in a place to refuse so she stood and they both walked from the room.

They stop at the front door.

"Atwood, front and center!" Vickie barks out.

Gail comes quickly out to the foyer. Orville in tow.

"It's time for us to go now" says Vickie.

Vickie looks harshly over at Orville. "You won't be joining us" she says in a hard tone.

They file out together, letting Orville leave first.

"I don't trust him, don't like the look of him" Vickie says bluntly.

Gail humbly offers "He's harmless, really. Dependable. But harmless."

Vickie isn't sold. "Well, he's your problem, not mine!" she says coldly.

Clive exits the vehicle and rounds the back to let the ladies in.

"Thank you, Clive" Vickie says almost genuinely.

Once inside the car, a strange silence settles over them. As usual, Vickie leads the charge.

"I'm going to change your lives today, girls. I hope you are ready!" she boasts.

As they drive away, neither Delia nor Gail know what's in front of them. 

But it will change their lives. Forever.

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