Austin Briggs's Blog, page 60

Jimmy Finds A Friend

Jimmy was a pessimistic loner who swore he had no reason to exist. He posted those very words on every online message board he found. Months later a package arrived signed, “an optimistic friend.” Opening the package, Jimmy smiled thinking his life was finally about to change. Moments later he realized the box was ticking…

Jimmy Finds A Friend is a post from: Aztec Books

I walked along a street in Mexico City's Zona Rosa, unsur...

I walked along a street in Mexico City's Zona Rosa, unsure what exactly I was doing there. It was past midnight, and I was a prime target if there ever was one: an outsider in my business jacket, alone in one of the most dangerous cities on earth.

A squat middle-aged woman pulled on my sleeve. "Caballero," she said. "Come, hay chicas más bellas."

I remembered another street, half a world away and many years before, in Kobe. Just like today, I was walking off alcohol after a business dinner; back than I was twenty-five and stupid. A thin Japanese pimp in a cheap black costume flashed some photo cards into my face, with lots of skin on them. "Kochi, kochi," he said in Japanese, "Over here. Good beer. Good fun. Very safe."

"A massage?" I asked.

"Shinpai shinaide, gaijin-san," he said with a polite nod. "Don't worry, mister foreigner."

I followed the man into a nearby building, up three or four flights of stairs, then into an apartment with two other foreigners passed out on the floor, their faces red, saliva dribbling from the corners of their mouths. A pregnant girl approached and grabbed my crotch; her big round eyes pleading, she pulled me toward a heavy curtain. At that moment I finally got scared. Really scared.

"I forgot something," I said to the girl. "O-kane ga nai. I've got no money." Before anyone could react, I took her hand off my pants, flitted around the snoring drunks, and ran out the door, rolling down the stairs as if I had no legs beneath me.

Once was enough; I was almost forty now and married, not in the mood for the adventures of that kind. I caught the eye of the squat Mexican woman and shook my head. What was the word? "Gracias, no chicks tonight for me."

She lost interest in my existence.

Someone else pulled on my sleeve; others called me from across the street. Damn it, I thought, will the whole street be like this?

As I hurried forward, my eye caught an ironic smile on a broad, dark face. Obviously a bouncer's face, flat-nosed and a little cocky. As I approached, the man moved aside and slanted his eyes towards the door he was guarding.

I peered inside. Another bouncer sat behind a desk with some papers thrown atop it, studying me.

"Are you coming in, sir?" he asked in business-like English.

I stepped back to glance above the door, where an expensive-looking sign read Liverpool.

"Hold on," I said. Producing an iPhone from my pocket, I searched for Liverpool, Zona Rosa. A high class gentlemen's club, I learned, with a few five-star reviews by American clients. "Watch your wallet," one review read. "The girls are pushy."

Both bouncers stared at me with impassive faces. The one near the door pointed behind me with his eyes. "Peligrosa, esta calle," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll come in."

"Two hundred peso," the man behind the desk said and gave me a ticket.

"Does it include free drinks?" I asked.

They both laughed, without malice. "Raise your hands, sir," one said and checked me with a scanner. Then he directed me upstairs with his eyes. "Enjoy."

The stairs looked clean. Viva la fiesta played inside, behind a heavy glass door. I shrugged and walked in.

Cigarette smoke engulfed me behind the door, and a waiter led me through a dense crowd of drinking men and strippers to a seat next to a large black stage. I took it all in one glance; the long naked legs, the high heels, the boobs overflowing the tight corsets. The girls were hanging off the necks of the men, sitting on their knees, rubbing their butts against the crotches. Damn it, I thought, this is the real deal.

Having been seated on a wide sofa, I made a gesture of tipping a bottle into my mouth. "¡Corona!"

Just after the first satisfying draw on the beer, before I could see what was going on stage, two girls materialized in front of me and blocked my view.

One was short and a little fat, wearing a tight green dress. She appeared somewhat nervous. The other one stunned me with her large, laughing eyes. She stood almost a head above the other, and her deep cleavage over a black corset mesmerized me.

"I'm here just to watch the show," I shouted over the music, sounding lame even to myself. Reaching for my beer, I noticed the tall girl's well-shaped legs. Her feet were small and tidy, framed by open black shoes. My heart missed a few beats, and I averted my eyes.

She followed my glance and laughed. "Can we watch with you?"

Yes! I wanted to say. Yes, you, I want you to watch whatever lousy show they run in this joint, but only you, without this colorless little mouse. I have no frigging money for you both. Instead, I produced nothing better than a constipated "Well. . . ."

"Where do you want me to seat?" The tall one asked. "On your chair, or on your legs, mister?"

I made an indefinite gesture. With a smile, she sat herself into my lap. Her friend hugged me from another side.

"Want any drinks, girls?" I asked. I mentally counted my pesos; I expected their drinks to bankrupt me. With the cash I had on me I thought I could afford a couple of coca-colas.

The tall girl shook her head. "I just drink water here. But I've had enough for the night."

I caught myself staring deep into her corset. What I saw there was pleasant, soft, and apparently natural. The girl in the green dress grabbed my face and tried to pull me away. I yielded to give her a polite smile, then turned back to the corset. Damnation, I thought, how could a stripper be so attractive? What was wrong with me?

I cleared my throat and pretended to look around. "I thought you girls were supposed to spin me for drinks?"

"Not here," the tall one said. She watched me with a calm smile, seeming to read every awkward change of my moods. I swallowed some beer.

"Not here?" I asked. "What do you do here, then?"

She laughed. "We'll show you. Don't worry, mister."

The other girl touched my cheek and asked something in Spanish.

"What's she saying?"

The tall girl shrugged. "She's asking if you'd like a dance."

"I have a question," I said, taking some more beer. "What are your names?"

"I'm Alaska," the girl said. "She's Carolina. She speaks no English."

"Love the names." What a lame thing to say, I thought. I hated the names.

"So you want a dance?"

My mind returned to the little wad of Mexican cash in my pocket. How much did I have? A thousand or two?

"Why's your English so good?" I asked.

"I grew up in the States."

"You're American?"

She laughed. "We're all Americans here," she said. "Mexicans are Americans, no? Not only you guys up North."

"I'm not from the States."

"Where from?"

"Switzerland."

"What? Sweden?"

"Switzerland. Suisa. Zurich."

The music changed. Spanish phrases flashed across a TV screen on the opposite wall, and an announcer roared, "Lady's dance. The ladies select caballeros. First dance free!"

"Free dance?" Alaska asked, running a finger along my cheek. "We'll dance for you. For free."

I put my hand over hers. "Sure, ¿cómo no?"

They both laughed, and Carolina took my beer away. "Toca me," she whispered into my ear, brushing against it with her wet lips. I suppressed a small shudder. Alaska took my hands and placed them firmly around their waists.

"You're not in the States," she said. "Here in Mexico, you can touch us."

"You want me to?"

She laughed.

Carolina removed her dress in one smooth move. She smiled, trying to look into my eyes, pushing her breasts to my face. I finally noticed that her breasts were huge and heavy, with massive dark nipples. An image crossed my mind; Carolina walking along the street, then flopping on her face under the weight of her boobs.

Alaska still danced in her corset, riding on one of my legs. She ran her fingers along my chest, then turned my face toward Carolina. I refused to look away from her and pulled on her corset. She smiled, and her lips twisted a little, as if she was hesitating.

Carolina turned around and begun rubbing her thong against the fly of my jeans. From behind, bending left and right in a fast dance, she looked attractive, and for a moment I lost my fixation on Alaska. Carolina felt my attention, grabbed my hands and placed them on her breasts. My fingers melted into her warm softness. She leaned back and lay her head on my shoulder, then tried to lick my ear. I ran one of my hands down her side. Stretched out that way, her body felt firm yet flexible.

I looked at Alaska. Still appearing hesitant, she turned around and invited me to unzip her corset. Leaning awkwardly over the dancing Carolina, I obliged.

The music stopped. Carolina grabbed my jeans, rubbing faster and faster against me. Alaska stood aside, holding her corset and facing away.

A waiter appeared. "¿Más danzas, caballero?" he asked.

I rubbed my face. Alaska turned around to look at me. Her smile was now almost mischievous. The line of her body, arching gently as she looked back, her firm butt clothed only into a thin black thong, her long legs. . . .

I clicked my fingers. "Sí, por favor."

"Four hundred pesos," the waiter said, and showed me four fingers.

I rummaged through my pockets, and produced two green notes, two hundred each.

"Sign here," the waiter said, "and here."

He left, and the girls resumed their dance. Carolina was now trying to get under my shirt, pressing her breasts to my belly. Alaska danced slowly, with her hands on my shoulders. I followed the movement of her small nipples, then the dance of her tiny belly button. Despite myself, I felt my penis firm up.

Carolina breathed deeper, and grabbed my penis through the jeans. I removed her hand, trying to be gentle; she resisted. Alaska laughed, and helped me take off her friend's hand. She said something in Spanish, and both laughed. Carolina's laughter sounded tense.

The music stopped when they were rubbing their breasts against my face. I stared ahead, feeling stiff and rather lost. I was trying to resist the lust rising inside me, the lust I haven't felt for many, many years; the lust I, a married man, wasn't allowed to feel.

"Want more?" Alaska asked.

"No . . . thank you, no," I said, trying to plant an easy smile onto my face. "Let's take a rest."

The girls picked their clothes off the sofa. "You'll have to help me," Alaska said. "I can never close that zipper by myself."

She turned her back to me, and slowly covered herself with the corset. Unable to move my eyes off the firm curves of her buttocks and feeling pathetic for it, I helped her dress up.

I sighed, and ordered more beer. All things considered, it was time to leave. I've checked out the place, enjoyed a dance a little too much, and if there was something else offered in the club, I wasn't ready to try it out. I whipped out my iPhone and looked at the picture of my wife and daughter at the screensaver. Their faces, usually warm and loving, looked distant, as if they were faces of strangers.

Alaska poked me into my side. "Married?"

"Very." I love her, I wanted to add, but that would have sounded false. "And yet, I'm here," I said.

"One child?"

"Two. My other daughter is from my first wife."

We settled ourselves on the sofa, the girls on both sides of me, caressing me gently.

"How old are they?"

"My kids? Ten and twelve. And you?"

Alaska laughed. "I'm older than your kids. Don't worry, mister."

"That's a relief," I said and leaned closer to her. "Listen, I really don't want your friend here."

To my surprise, concern flashed through Alaska's eyes. "But what will I tell her?" she asked.

I turned to Carolina. "Oigame, señorita," I said into her little pink ear. "No su necesito. You may go, if you wish."

The girl looked at me with eyes that suddenly looked large. Once again, I was surprised with the real emotion. If I was reading her correctly, she was hurt. I shrugged. "Thank you, see you later, señorita."

Alaska leaned over me and patted Carolina's hand. They chatted in fast Spanish as I drank my beer between them.

Eventually, Carolina gave a small squeeze to my thigh and moved to a group of girls sitting on a sofa next to mine.

"You guys are way too aggressive," I said.

Alaska put her hand on my shoulder and massaged it lightly. "Aggressive? Is this aggressive?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I just wanted to see the show."

"And you're too sophisticated for the way we do things here."

I saluted her with my beer. "Yes. Want some water?"

She shook her head. "You're too European for this."

"Yes."

"You're too much of a pussy."

I laughed. "You know what? I've been to my share of strip clubs. It's the first time I'm having some drama in one."

"Drama," she repeated thoughtfully and l leaned forward to brush her lips against my forehead. Her touch aroused me once again. I smirked, hiding my reaction.

"Are there many Mexican girls here?" I asked and put my beer bottle on the table. My hand hovered over her knee. Alaska laughed and pushed my hand down. Her skin felt fresh and cool under my touch, smooth yet firm. I caressed her leg, trying not to be too obvious about me. She have me a short hug.

"Mexican girls? No. Only me and some friends. Others are from Brazil, or Colombia. Some are Venezuelans. A few Russians."

"Oh, those are everywhere."

"They're the only professionals we have."

"That's what happens to our girls," I said. "They become professionals in the strip clubs."

"Your girls? You're Russian?"

"Yep."

"From Sweden."

"Switzerland. Zurich."

"What's your name, then?"

"Michael. Misha."

"Misha," she said slowly. "Sounds like a girl."

"It does," I agreed. "By the way . . . Alaska," I played with the sound of her name, making it sound as fake as it was, "why are you here? You seem a little too intelligent for this place."

"I need money," she said, smiling. "For my University."

"University? It's the first time I'm hearing this story. Usually it's a sick mom. Or a disabled brother."

She pushed me into my side, quite painfully. "Silly. I'm telling you the truth."

I shrugged. "Whichever rocks your boat. Let it be University today."

"Listen," she said. "Did you tell me the truth about your kids?"

"Of course I did."

"I'm telling you the truth about my University. I'm in my third year. I need money for another two and a half years. I need a lot of money."

I laughed. "And that's why you became a stripper?"

She leaned away from me a little. "Yes. There's no other way in Mexico to make money for a girl. Good money."

"Twenty bucks a dance?" I laughed, shaking my head. "Good Lord."

She pinched my ear. "Listen, here's the deal. We have some private rooms upstairs and very, very private rooms downstairs. You can hire me for five or ten dances. You can hire me for more."

A cute Latina girl appeared on the stage and began walking it, dancing just a little. I watched the girl as she paced the length of the stage, showing her lean, tight body.

"What's 'more'?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"You said I can hire you for more. What's 'more'?"

"More dances, of course. Silly."

"Is she Mexican, too?" I nodded at the girl at the stage.

Alaska glanced over. "Yes. Her boobs are fake. You'll see when she pulls her top off."

"Do you girls undress here completely?" I asked. "I keep wanting to see the show, but you're distracting me."

Alaska was caressing my leg, moving her fingers from my knee to my thigh. "This isn't a nude club," she said. "Plus, I don't dance on the main stage. I'm too new here."

I had to suppress another smirk. "Right."

"Right."

Waiters came, and spoke to Alaska in Spanish. "We've got to move," she said. "The two of us are taking this large sofa."

"Alright," I said. "Nice knowing you. How do I ask for the bill?"

"La cuenta," she responded. "Don't you want to go to the very private rooms downstairs?"

I looked at the watch on my iPhone. "I've got to leave for my plane in four hours."

"Don't be such a pussy. I'll go to my University with an hour of sleep, at most."

I looked at her again, this time openly staring. There she was again, a stunning young girl, smiling at me a little absentmindedly, as if her thoughts had left the present company. What would be that dance is "the very private rooms", I wondered. How private will she get with me?

"Ten dances, then," I said.

is a post from: Aztec Books

October Flash Fiction Contest Winners

It's time to announce our October winners. You'll notice that I'm doing this mid-November, which is unusual. Normally I announce winners and the new writing prompt early in the month.

I've received a few emails asking if all was alright with me thanks folks, I'm indeed doing well. The delay is caused by two reasons:

Been traveling. You may know I write Aztec books. For my research, I've been all over the Serpent of Central America and some Caribbean islands important for the Spanish Conquest over the last couple months. The internet isn't always available there.
I decided to pause the contest, and it's a hard decision to publish. I may restart it later, when I figure out the way to monetize it better.

With that out of the way… here come our winners!

The October prompt was "What Happens on the Road", and here are our winners. Congratulations!

# 1: Overall Winner is Josue Santiago  with his powerful story Misunderstanding.

 

# 2: Strongest Emotion is Mark Brown with his fantastic A Bloom of Hope.

 

# 3: Best Scare is Hope Sullivan McMickle with the chilling Prey.

 

There are many fantastic stories that I couldn't award this month … too many to be named I've enjoyed them all, and thank you all for playing!

I'll contact each winner by email to wire the winnings to their Paypal accounts: $55 for the first prize and $30 each for prizes # 2 and 3.

I'm truly, truly grateful to all authors and readers who stopped by to vote. Many thanks to all. I hope to reopen the contest soon.

October Flash Fiction Contest Winners is a post from: Aztec Books

‘Lyonesse’ by Jack Vance

More serious fantasy readers among us surely remember this book – a story about ancient, long forgotten islands on the Atlantic, consumed by its waters and about people who inhabited them. The Elder Isles – once home to magical creatures like elves, trolls and goblins; once home to human kingdoms of the 5th century A.D., with their politics, wars, passions and troubles; islands that have long submerged under the oceanic waves. In fact, Vance tells us this fact nearly at the beginning of the story, adding to his writing an aura of a long-lost heritage and nostalgia for something that will never return.

‘Lyonesse’ is a novel with several main characters – one of them is a young prince called Aillas. His fate is intertwined with stories of other characters, but Aillas can still be considered the leading one. He is a young prince of an island realm called Troicinet, located more or less 20 miles away from Gaul. Aillas is to succeed his father as king and he receives his education as the future monarch during an important diplomatic mission. Things get complicated, however, when he is mysteriously thrown over his ship’s board…

Aillas’ fate is linked to the fate of Suldrun, a young princess of another kingdom called Lyonesse. Her father, powerful king Casmir, wants to arrange a political marriage to boost his own diplomatic and military stance. But Suldrun does not want any of this – she seems to be interested only in the magical garden on the palace grounds. That is, until she meets Aillas…

The plot offers interesting twists, as one would expect to happen when mixing magic, wizardry, politics and military conquest. Jack Vance created his world while using rich references to our history, mythology and culture. In fact, the realm of Lyonesse is based on ancient chronicles of Phoenician, Greek, Roman and early Christian merchants. Different races and nations like Vikings or Celts also exist in the novel, depicted as declining or evolving into great powers that our history recorded them as.

‘Lyonesse’ portrays the magical reality of the early Dark Ages in a credible and riveting way – the seas are busy with cogs and boats, the battlefields are filled with roars of mighty armies, the highroads teem with merchants, missionaries, pilgrims and adventurers, both from fictitious kingdoms and real places like Gaul, Ireland, Wales or Cornwall. Vance’s world is abundant in historical allusions, although the author himself admitted that he treated historical accuracy with a pinch of salt. So we have the late Middle Ages traditions like jousting and chivalry combined with the political nuances of the collapsing Roman Empire; we have medieval dances, music and architecture existing in contrast with the pre-Christian, semi-barbaric culture saturated with magic.

In short, Vance’s ‘Lyonesse’ is a great read. It is linked to the myths of King Arthur and it artfully combines history and magic. I believe ‘Lyonesse’ is a classical historical fantasy novel, having achieved respect and acknowledgement of international critics of the genre.

Therefore, strongly recommended!

Have you read it? What do you think?

‘Lyonesse’ by Jack Vance is a post from: Aztec Books

'Lyonesse' by Jack Vance

More serious fantasy readers among us surely remember this book – a story about ancient, long forgotten islands on the Atlantic, consumed by its waters and about people who inhabited them. The Elder Isles – once home to magical creatures like elves, trolls and goblins; once home to human kingdoms of the 5th century A.D., with their politics, wars, passions and troubles; islands that have long submerged under the oceanic waves. In fact, Vance tells us this fact nearly at the beginning of the story, adding to his writing an aura of a long-lost heritage and nostalgia for something that will never return.

'Lyonesse' is a novel with several main characters – one of them is a young prince called Aillas. His fate is intertwined with stories of other characters, but Aillas can still be considered the leading one. He is a young prince of an island realm called Troicinet, located more or less 20 miles away from Gaul. Aillas is to succeed his father as king and he receives his education as the future monarch during an important diplomatic mission. Things get complicated, however, when he is mysteriously thrown over his ship's board…

Aillas' fate is linked to the fate of Suldrun, a young princess of another kingdom called Lyonesse. Her father, powerful king Casmir, wants to arrange a political marriage to boost his own diplomatic and military stance. But Suldrun does not want any of this – she seems to be interested only in the magical garden on the palace grounds. That is, until she meets Aillas…

The plot offers interesting twists, as one would expect to happen when mixing magic, wizardry, politics and military conquest. Jack Vance created his world while using rich references to our history, mythology and culture. In fact, the realm of Lyonesse is based on ancient chronicles of Phoenician, Greek, Roman and early Christian merchants. Different races and nations like Vikings or Celts also exist in the novel, depicted as declining or evolving into great powers that our history recorded them as.

'Lyonesse' portrays the magical reality of the early Dark Ages in a credible and riveting way – the seas are busy with cogs and boats, the battlefields are filled with roars of mighty armies, the highroads teem with merchants, missionaries, pilgrims and adventurers, both from fictitious kingdoms and real places like Gaul, Ireland, Wales or Cornwall. Vance's world is abundant in historical allusions, although the author himself admitted that he treated historical accuracy with a pinch of salt. So we have the late Middle Ages traditions like jousting and chivalry combined with the political nuances of the collapsing Roman Empire; we have medieval dances, music and architecture existing in contrast with the pre-Christian, semi-barbaric culture saturated with magic.

In short, Vance's 'Lyonesse' is a great read. It is linked to the myths of King Arthur and it artfully combines history and magic. I believe 'Lyonesse' is a classical historical fantasy novel, having achieved respect and acknowledgement of international critics of the genre.

Therefore, strongly recommended!

Have you read it? What do you think?

'Lyonesse' by Jack Vance is a post from: Aztec Books

Last Business Trip

No I-95, not this time.

My pencil trembles over thin west-bent lines.

Circles names like Darlington, Dublin, and New Hope.

I imagine quiet blue orchards and hilltop schools. Cottaged main streets I might have paraded down. Church girls I might have married.

New York and D.C. look like gun chambers now.

I-95, a steel blur.

 

Brad Magnarella.

 

Last Business Trip is a post from: Aztec Books

Not Made Here

The tenth car screamed. Lizzie looked up and opened her eyes wide: this one had spun off the highway and lay now supine, wheels spinning and sighing, its engine whining while dying. The single occupant clambered from the wreck. Lizzie smiled, having reloaded the rifle, and took aim at the next non-British vehicle.

 

John McDougall.

Not Made Here is a post from: Aztec Books

After Last Night…

I wake up in a haze. I can't feel my head turning but I see her sleeping beside me. Did we just..? Why can't I remember?

I turn to the endtable and see a residue-stained wine glass.

And a note.

"That was for my mother."

I roll out of bed and fall.

I'm still falling…

 

George Sirois.

After Last Night… is a post from: Aztec Books

Divided we Fail

"Crossroad twins, seaside left, countryside right."

Right,

Left,

"Agree or we go back."

Seaside, I'm not budging.

Nor me, why should I?

"Shall I be the casting vote?"

(Together) No, you won't pick mine.

"Back home it is then."

Can we stop for a McDonald's?

Burger King.

"Both! Out! and never phone my taxi again".

 

Roy Station.

Divided we Fail is a post from: Aztec Books

State of the Whirled

Callie stopped attempting to read the message in the excrement. She'd hitchhiked without shoes before. She wrapped the sandals in pink cloth for someone to find, crossed the highway and looked back. The dog lifted his leg over the gift.

'So that's the way, it is?'

'That's the way it's always been', the dog countered.

 

Holly St Clair.

State of the Whirled is a post from: Aztec Books