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10-Dec-2019 12:15

The voyeur and hermit in me loved the location, and I had it all to myself for several months until the day Darlene arrived. At first I was annoyed at the invasion of my secret space. Like commuters sharing an across town bus, we got used to each other's presence on the installment plan. While I enjoyed the sometimes risqué banter, I never considered Darlene as potential girlfriend material. I amused myself trying to sneak a peek down her blouse or up her skirt when I thought she wouldn't notice. Darlene's field of viable targets was limited unless she lowered her standards or went in for a threesome.

Familiarity grew comfortable and gave way to conversation as we observed the ebb and flow of tavern life. One Friday night, the stars governing our relationship aligned like the bars on a slot machine. One of these stud-muffins is going home with me," she chuckled with a little shiver and scanned the bar for targets of opportunity. What a curious blend of emotions for a virtual stranger. Most of the men in the tavern looked like drop-outs from Blubber Buddies or some such weight watching group. I pitied the lucky guy who won Darlene's attention.

Mapmakers tended to hide the most critical information in the smallest print known to man. Her soft and innocent musical voice accented her thoughts with honey and desire. Darlene was more than she seemed and she used a different song for every mood and season.

When angry, sarcastic sandpaper replaced honey as her words scoured lies and deceit away from facts until only the naked truth remained.

Our bartender presented her with another complimentary White Russian as his sacrifice to the Gods of Wishful Thinking. "One is for you and the other two are honor guards for the dead soldiers." He pointed to the two empty glasses. After a few months together, the real estate development company in which Darlene had invested fifteen years of her life went belly-up, and then her last two paychecks bounced.

"I love this drink." She inhaled the beverage, chugging it down in one long gulp. How can anyone love a drink without taking the time to appreciate the subtle by-play of flavors? " she smiled before dispatching the last White Russian. The rubber checks set up a cascading overdraft chain reaction.

The story of a homeless Vietnam veteran becomes the accidental prisoner of an all-woman survivalist community hidden deep in the Rockies of Western Colorado.

The ladies of Liberty Mountain have chosen to live in a world without men.

He decided a new tenant would be cheaper than new plumbing.She looked at me, turned slightly and studied the calendar hanging on the refrigerator door, and looked back into my eyes. " What kinda random question was this and where was it going? "Honey, they don't have an address, and they're not on a road." Darlene moved to the living room sofa and I followed. I had visited many communes in my younger days, and everyone had a personality ranging from boring to batshit crazy. "Fifteen miles, give or take." She leaned into me as she sat next to me. We were friends back in college." "What kind of friends? Do you want to give them a try, at least for a few weeks? Living as amateur survivalists, her friends occupied an off-the-grid cabin located somewhere in the Rocky Mountains about two hundred and fifty miles west of Denver.



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Anyways, I had my trusty camera in hand and was eager to barge into the bathroom, where my lesbian roommates Alice Manson and Veronica Wild were just finishing up in the shower.… continue reading »


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