Monday, February 20, 2017
"Why are you always nice to me?" She asked. "Because someday you might wake up in a meadow, look at the odd plants and realize that you're on a strange world. With a faint memory of being poked and prodded by aliens going through your mind, you start to walk. When you come across me, lying there unconscious you think; 'Well, I was hoping for someone better looking, but he was always nice to me.' And you drop the large rock you were carrying.
Last year, I posted the first draft of this, but I knew it was incomplete. Below is the revised version which explains why my little kit was up to no good. The Tale of Two Kitties By G.W. Hogg ©2-8-16 I first met Kit late Saturday night as I walked back to my company’s apartment in Cebu City. It was almost midnight as I made my way down the dim and quiet street. The end of my first week of training had gone well and I had been out to dinner with eight of my coworkers from the planning group. Despite being a thirty-something single guy, I was careful how I acted with the group. So despite the encouragement of my coworkers, especially one rather cute one, I was careful not to drink too much. I turned off the dim street, onto the dark alley that led to the back of the apartment complex. The full moon had just risen, but shed little light on the narrow alley. I hadn’t gone more than a few steps in when I noticed something moving high up on a wall. I flattened myself into a shadowy doorway and watched. A guy was carefully pulling himself onto the top of the high wall. He was being slow and careful, trying to avoid the jagged pieces of glass set into the top of the wall. If it weren't for the full moon, he would have been invisible in his black, head to toe, skin-tight outfit. I was preparing to run when the figure stood and silhouetted by the full moon, I could see the special curves that told me it was a woman, and a rather nicely shaped one at that! The bulge on her back told me that she was successful and had filled her backpack with loot. I was curious, so I stayed in the shadows to watch. Balancing herself on the edge, she pivoted on one foot, turning so she faced back the way she came. In one smooth motion, she crouched, grabbed the top of the wall, kicked off and hung for a moment, then dropped to the alley below. And something went terribly wrong! As she landed silently, I heard a nasty crack and she stifled a scream as she fell over. I stood there for a moment, listening to her quiet moaning and wondering what I should do. Does a gentleman help a damsel cat burglar in distress? Not sure of the karma, but remembering the tantalizing silhouette I saw, I stepped out of the shadows. Whistling a tune, I started down the alley. This way, I hoped she would not be startled. She was a darker shape amongst the dark gray bins and boxes cluttering the alley and I could just make her out as she froze against the wall. I continued, pretending I didn’t see her until I was abreast of her, then I turned and stared at her. "Are you in need of assistance my dear?" She let out a little squeak, there was a flash and I was facing two feet of naked Japanese steel. Because of the black hood, I could only see her eyes, but the pain and fear in them was unmistakable. I stood there for a few moments, not wanting to test her skill with a blade. It never wavered. Finally, she spoke. "Go Away!" "I thought you could use some help, especially since I think you broke your ankle." "I don’t need your help, you stupid American! This doesn’t concern you. Go before trouble falls on your head!" She shifted her leg and from the sharp intake of breath, I knew it hurt. Her voice sounded young and judging by her stubborn attitude, she was very young. "Now darlin’, be nice or I’ll get a long stick and hit your ankle." Her eyes went wide. "You wouldn’t!" "Probably not. Still, I think you need my help. Or do you want to crawl all the way home?" "I told you I don’t need your help!" "Okay, I’ll leave if you show me you can stand." I stepped back and waited. She seemed to think it over and sheathed her short sword. Then using it as a cane, she levered herself up onto one leg and stood. "See! Now leave!" "Okay." I turned and walked away. I was maybe four yards away when I heard her cry out, followed by a thud. I knew what had happened, but I kept walking. "Help!" I heard in a quiet, plaintive voice. I kept walking. "Please help me!" A little louder this time. I stopped, turned and sauntered back. "Does the little girl now need help from the stupid American?" I asked as I stood over her. Her fierce dark eyes glared at me, and then she let out a sigh. "Perhaps I was a bit hasty. If this kind American would be so good as to help a poor damsel in distress…I…I might be in his debt." Her last few words were so forced; I thought she might hurt herself. I reached down for her wrist and she grabbed mine. "Nothing would please me more than to help this charming young damsel." I pulled her up, steadied her and we took a hop-step. She almost lost her balance. She was rather short compared to me, so I had to bend over to put an arm around her slender waist. We tried again, but her sharp intake of breath told me that even this jarred her foot too much. "I don’t think this will work." As we stood there, we heard sirens in the distance, then noise over the wall. "I think we need to hurry!" She said. I let go and hunkered down. "Get on my back and I’ll carry you." She put her arms around my neck and as I stood, she hopped up and wrapped her legs around my waist. "Giddy up!" She said and laughed. I jogged to the end of the alley and started across the street. "Hey!" She said. "My place is to the right." "My place is closer and I promise I’ll be a gentleman." "Ah…okay." Then she whispered in my ear. "But I can’t promise to be a lady!" And she laughed deliciously. We made it across the street and into the next alley unseen. I fumbled a bit getting the door to the apartments unlocked, but made it through without dropping my cat burglar. Despite her small size and light weight, I was a little winded when I got us to my apartment on the third floor. I let her slide off onto the small couch and got her a chair to prop up her foot. "Is there someone you can call?" "Yes, just a moment." She shucked the backpack off and pulled it around to her front. As she unzipped the front pouch and pulled out her phone, the pack fell over and bundles of cash fell out of the unsecured top. She froze. I casually picked up the bundles of dollars and pesos, placed them on the dining table, then grabbed two Red Horse beers from the fridge. I opened them, walked over and placed one before her, then sat down next to her. "Well, my little cat burglar, I think you have some explaining to do." She gave me a frightened look, then grabbed the beer, lifted her mask just a bit and took a long drink. "You probably think I'm a common criminal?" I looked her over and smiled. "Perhaps not 'common', but a criminal none the less." She smiled back, and it was a really cute smile. "I'm not really a criminal! That house belongs to the mayor; it's where his mistress lives. He's well known for taking bribes and other bad things. My cousin told me the police are going to raid the house in the morning and all the bribe money might not make it to the police station." "So you thought you'd help keep the police from getting their hands too dirty?" Her smile turned impish and there was a little sparkle in her eyes. "The police don't know how much there is to seize, and if there is some missing, then the mayor will just assume the police kept it. I wasn't going to keep all of it. Most were going to the homeless children's fund that my church runs." "And you were going to keep just enough to cover expenses?" I could not tell if she was blushing, but her smile turned uncertain and she looked away. When she turned back, the impishness was back in her smile. "You could be one of my 'expenses'?" She said hopefully. "For a cat burglar, you're not a bad kitty. Call your friend. Your broken foot needs to be looked at." As she called, I went over to inspect the loot. I picked up all but one bundle of hundred dollar bills. As she was talking to her friend, I stuffed the rest of the cash back into her pack and secured the top. I wished I knew some Tagalog. She would say something, then glance at me and look away. It was probably best I did not know what she was saying. She closed the phone. "My cousin will be here in twenty minutes." Her eyes traveled to the table. "Hey! You didn't give me everything back!" I smiled wickedly, "Expenses." She gave a small pout, then smiled. "Not such a stupid American after all. I guess it's only fair." "You know, we have not been properly introduced. My name is Greg. And yours?" I held out my hand and she shook it, strong and firm. " I think it's best you don't know my name." "Hmmm…perhaps you're right. Well, I'll call you Kitty, since you're a cat burglar. The tale of Kitty the cat burglar. It has a nice ring." "Depends on how you spell tale." "Either way, it's a nice tail." She looked away as if she was blushing, but she was smiling too. We had just finished our beers when her phone chimed. "Oh, my ride is here." "Then let's get you downstairs." I helped her stand, and put on the backpack full of loot. "Ready for another ride?" "Sure." Despite our care, she hit her bad foot when she wrapped her legs around me. "Sorry." "It's okay." She said through clenched teeth. "You were being careful." "You know, it's a good thing you're light and petite. Makes it easier to carry you." She gave me a bit of a squeeze. "Giddy up!" Was all she said. When we stepped out into the alley, there was a beat-up white Isuzu trooper waiting with the back door open. I carefully set Kitty down, then helped her into the seat. As I went to pull away, she tugged on my arm, stopping me. "Thanks for your help." Then she pulled me closer and kissed me, her tongue saying more than her words did. She released me. "Maybe I can thank you improperly when my foot heals. Let's go cousin!" She smiled impishly, pulled the door shut and they drove off. Monday, my driver picked me up late, so by the time I got to the conference room, everyone was ready and waiting. While I set up, the supervisor introduced the two new faces, Katrina and Alfonso, who had been on vacation the previous week. Training on the new software package went well and I wrapped up the introduction just before lunch. "It's almost lunchtime." I said as I stood. "So let's break a little early. After lunch, I'll have each of you run the software and we'll do some hands-on work. After that, I am sure I'll be flooded with questions." They looked to their supervisor and when she nodded, they all thanked me and left for lunch. All except one. I walked over to the young lady. "Katrina isn't it?" "Yes, but you can call me Kit, everyone else does." "Well Kit, shouldn't you be heading off to lunch? Or did you have some questions?" "No questions, you covered everything quite well. It's just that I was off last week and have a million emails to catch up on." "I see. I thought it might be that you didn't want me to notice that your foot was in a cast." She gasped. "Not bad for a stupid American, huh Kit? Or should I call you Kitty?" "How did you know? You never saw my face!" "But I saw your cute smile." She looked away and almost blushed. "So, leave your work and let's go join the others for lunch." "Okay." I helped her up and retrieved her crutches from under the table. "Maybe later, you will think of a nice restaurant where you would like me to take you to dinner." "Someplace expensive?" "If I can afford it." "Oh You!" and she playfully hit me on the arm.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Insatiable Nomad 11-24-15 After graduating from high school, I decided to spend my summer hitchhiking around the country. On a hot June day I was walking along a lonely stretch of highway just outside of a small town in the middle of Kansas. I heard a roar behind me, turned and put out my thumb. A red motorcycle with a black sidecar came zooming around the bend. It screeched to a halt just in front of me and the rider pointed to the sidecar. 'Nomad' was emblazoned across it in bright red script. My eyes were drawn to the obviously female figure, wonderfully dressed out in tight black leather; I hesitated. She pulled off her helmet, shook out her long black hair and gave me a mischievous smile that spoke of excitement and. "Get in!" I grabbed the helmet off the seat, slid my backpack off my shoulders and climbed in. "You didn't ask where I was going." She let loose a laugh and I could feel the adrenaline surge through me. "Where ever I'm going and not even the Nomad knows where that is; but I might get you home for college by September." She laughed again as she popped on her helmet, dropped the cycle into gear and I held on for the ride of my life.
Kit By G.W. Hogg ©2-8-13 I first met Kit as I was walking back to my company’s apartment in Cebu City. It was well after midnight as I walked down the dark and quiet street. I had been out to dinner with eight of my coworkers from the call center. Despite the encouragement of my coworkers, especially one rather cute one, I had not had too much to drink; but I was somewhat inebriated. I turned off the dark street, onto the even darker alley that led to the back of my apartment complex. The full moon had just risen, but shed no light on the narrow alley. I hadn’t gone more than a few steps when I noticed something moving high up on a wall. I flattened myself into a shadowy corner and watched. The guy was carefully pulling himself onto the top of a high wall. He was being slow and careful, trying to avoid the jagged pieces of glass set into the top of the wall. If it wasn’t for the full moon behind him, he would have been invisible in his black outfit. I was preparing to run when the figure stood and I could see the special curves that told me it was a woman, and a rather nice looking one at that! The bulge on her back told me that she was successful and had filled her backpack with loot. I was curious, so I stayed in the shadows to watch. Balancing herself on the edge, she pivoted on one foot, turning so she facing back the way she came. In one smooth motion, she crouched, grabbed the top of the wall, kicked off and hung for moment, then dropped to the alley below. And something went terribly wrong! As she landed silently, I heard a nasty crack and she stifled a scream as she fell over. I stood there for a moment, listening to her quiet moaning and wondering what I should do. Does a gentleman help a damsel cat burglar in distress? Not sure of the karma, but remembering the tantalizing silhouette I saw, I stepped out of the shadows. Whistling a tune, I started down the alley. This way, I hoped she would not be startled. She was a darker shadow amongst the shades of gray and I could just make her out as she scooted against the wall and froze. I continued on, pretending I didn’t see her until I was abreast of her, then I turned and stared at her. “Are you in need of assistance my dear?” She let out a little squeak, there was a flash and I was facing two feet of Japanese steel. Because of the black hood I could only see her eyes, but the pain and fear in them was unmistakable. I stood there for a few moments, not wanting to test her skill with a blade. It never wavered. Finally, she spoke. “Go Away!” “I thought you could use some help, especially since I think you broke your ankle.” “I don’t need your help, you stupid American! This doesn’t concern you. Go before trouble falls on your head!” She shifted her leg and from the sharp intake of breath, I knew it hurt. Her voice sounded young and judging by her stubborn attitude, she was very young. “Now darlin’, be nice or I’ll get a long stick and hit your ankle.” Her eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t!” “Probably not. Still, I think you need my help. Or do you want to crawl all the way home?” “I told you I don’t need your help!” “Okay, I’ll leave if you show me you can stand.” I stepped back and waited. She seemed to think it over and sheathed her short sword. Then using it as a cane, she levered herself up onto one leg and stood. “See! Now leave!” “Okay.” And I turned and walk away. I was maybe four meters away when I heard her cry out, followed by a thud. I knew what had happened, but I kept walking. “Help!” I heard in a quiet, plaintive voice. I kept walking. “Please help me!” A little louder this time. I stopped, turned and sauntered back. “Does the little girl now need help from the stupid American.” I asked as I stood over her. Her fierce dark eyes glared at me, then she let out a sigh. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty. If this kind American would be so good as to help me…I…I would be in his debt.” Her last few words were so forced, I thought she might hurt herself. I reached down for her wrist and she grabbed mine. “Nothing would please me more than to help this charming young damsel.” I pulled her up, steadied her and we took a hop-step. She almost lost her balance, so I put an arm around her slender waist and we tried again. Her sharp intake of breath told me that even this jarred her leg to much. “I don’t think this will work.” As we stood there, we heard sirens in the distance, then noise over the wall. “I think we need to hurry!” She said. I let go and hunkered down. “Get on my back and I’ll carry you.” She put her arms around my neck and as I stood, she hoped up and wrapped her legs around my waist. “Giddy up!” She said and laughed. I jogged to the end of the alley and started across the street. “Hey!” She said. “My place is to the right.” “My place is closer and I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” “Ah…okay.” Then she whispered in my ear. “But I can’t promise to be a lady!” And she laughed deliciously. I knew then that my stay in Cebu would be most interesting!
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
We were talking on the phone once, during one of our annual calls, when she asked me a very odd question; “If I had asked you, would you have married me?” In a fraction of a second, which was all I had, I reviewed all the times we were together, the breakup and all of the subsequent times our paths crossed, either on purpose or accidental and gave her my honest answer. “Yes.” “I was just wondering.” Was all she said. You were just wondering? Like, ‘I was just wondering if I should have another glass of water’? I do wonder what was going through her mind at the time. Was she looking back on her choices in life, the choice that led her away, the choices that kept leading her to reach out to me, reconnect and sort of try again? Until we lost touch with each other, and then, by the time our paths crossed again, it was too late for you? Because, when I look back, it was always you who came back to me, if only for the weekend. Perhaps I look at things differently. Once it’s over, it’s over. We tried, in our own fumbling teenage ways. Sometime after you went off to college, you decided that the long distance thing was just not working, so you decided to end it. So, it was over and I moved on. And you kept finding me. I know that when circumstances end something, it never truly ends. So I wonder if, at that point in your life, you were looking at ‘might have beens’? Were you wondering if you did the right thing? Maybe, if you tried harder, asked me the question, things might have turned out differently? So you reached out to once again, to touch the maybe, feel the warmth, and reassure yourself that the 'maybe' was still real. I hope that it was just because you were curious, not that you were having troubles. Because there is nothing I can do for your troubles…except be your friend. And I never want to think that you might have made an error in your selection. For I know that I didn’t. And I don’t want to think of you, lying in your bed at night, wondering if your life would have turned out better if only it was me lying beside you.
Thursday, August 01, 2013
It’s always boring, driving down highway five. Okay, it’s not a ‘highway’, it’s an Interstate. And yes, I know the difference. There it sits, hundreds of miles of straight, flat road, in the middle of California. Nothing much to see but flat fields, an occasional oasis of service stations and fast food places. Oh, and the stockyards you smell before you see. Regardless of the boredom, it is the fastest route to L.A. from the Bay Area. But once you set the cruise control to 80mph (125kph), 70 when the price of gas was $4 a gallon, it’s a struggle to fill the hours. Wonder-Girl reads a book, since the farmers don’t post signs on their crops. I glance at the road sign, “Speed limit enforced by aircraft’ Enforced? I wonder how. The mind drifts and I can visualize a World War One biplane cruising through the skies, monitoring traffic. It’s a two-seater and the pilot and gunner both have handlebar mustaches and goggles. The gunner sees a sports car weaving through traffic at a high rate of speed. He taps the pilot on the shoulder and gestures down. The pilot gives him a thumbs up and banks over into a dive. As the plane levels out, the gunner swings his twin Browning .30 caliber machine guns over and aims just in front of the nose of the sports car. With a crazed look in his eyes, he squeezes off a burst of tracer rounds. The sports car slams on its brakes and slides into the slow lane. The pilot laughs, along with the gunner, as he pulls back on the stick and climbs. Four crazed bloodshot eyes scanning the road for another victim Sure, I have seen the real helicopter spotters overhead, but they are boring.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
I have this friend back east that I have known since the 90’s. One of the reasons we remain friends, probably, is that we think in similar ways, have a similar sense of humor and enjoy each other’s company. Skinner, as I call her, and I became friends through phone calls and emails at work. It wasn’t until a few years later that she met me in person. (I had already met her, but she had forgotten the meeting. I suppose that indicates the first impression I had on her, or lack thereof, sigh.) Anyway, the friendship worked, partly (I think) because we kept it as a friendship. (though if I had been single at the time…I probably would have made a nuisance of myself.) There were a few curious things over the years that, if I take them out of context, squint and tilt my head just the right way; might indicate some other ideas she may have had. The first thing was sometime in the mid-nineties, before the internet. I had mentioned reading certain stories on a bbs. She asked, if she wrote such a story, would I post it for her? Now I have been writing stories for quite a while, regular fiction, and had shared some with her. So I figured that it would be regular fiction. So she sends me a little three-page sex story and I posted it. (It is still archived at several internet sites and if you knew my original email address at my last company, you could find the story.) The story had what I thought as a good sex scene between the two characters. Not the quiet, slow lovemaking; but a rough, pull her dress off, throw her on the bed, mount her from behind and fuck her hard, fast and deep. (With a nice touch of her wanting/having her nipples pinched hard at just the right moment.) I have read the story several times and based on how we act when we are together, I am sure it was not meant to be about us. And there is something else. That is that both of us respect marriage. If she had other ideas about me, she would keep them to herself. If I had other ideas about her, I would keep them to myself. Some things are just not done. Some years after that, she told me she had written a similar story for her boyfriend and his reaction was pretty lukewarm. The second thing was at one time, she sent me a book to read. It was called ‘Mercy’. It was a psychological murder mystery about a man who liked to dress up in women’s clothing, a series of murders; and a woman who like to dress up as a man. The ‘Mercy’ title comes from the safe word that was used by these two people, because they were also both into BDSM I did like the book and told her so, but it always struck me as strange that she would send it out to me. Especially since I read mostly science fiction and fantasy. So I suppose I could take these two items together and weave it into a supposed fantasy that she has about me, or a fantasy she had and I would be suitable. But that idea is so farfetched, based on what I know about her, that it is hardly worth considering.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
The other day, Wonder-Girl came back from a women’s get together and told me a strange thing. She said, “Do you know what Tri-Girl said to me tonight? She said, ‘All the women want your husband.’” “What?” I said incredulously. “She said that.” Now I am totally perplexed. You’ve met me and you know that I’m a pretty average looking guy. So that can’t be it. Now I do have a lot of female friends, in fact, most of my friends are female. I suppose that means that I’m a pretty nice guy and fun to be with. (And probably because I am not trying to get into their pants, they feel safe and comfortable around me?) I think it also might be because Wonder-Girl doesn’t constantly grouse about me? (I am only guessing this because we all know that when a spouse is on their own, they may say things.) Maybe it’s because most of the women are divorced, or married to their second husband, and this is my first? I don’t know. I just can’t figure that one out.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
(years ago) So we were sitting at the party, spinning yarns and shooting the breeze. Someone brought up different mixed drinks and Prickly's dad asked what was in a 'Long Island Iced Tea'. It has four or five types of booze mixed together. "I don't know," I answered. "But it is strong enough to knock the skirt off a college coed!." Suddenly there was silence, so I quickly added, 'Or so I've heard." Nice save, GW, but no one believed me. Deep Throat thought it was pretty good. I am just glad the kids were in the house, out of earshot. Twelve-year-old boys should not be learning the tricks of the trade, yet. Us older guys will bide our time. For such knowledge should be passed on. It’s not as if women wear tee shirts that say, I'm not that kind of girl, but if you buy me another drink...