Laurieheels Posted October 16, 2003 Posted October 16, 2003 For those of you who have not been over to my sample section at http://freespace.virgin.net/jennys.page/laurie.htm I am going to include a bit of the story listed there. The idea is that I will include a serial story on my part of the new site. This is an excerpt from a story tentatively titled Crystaline Stars, but it is some time away from being seen in full, it is a work in progress. But it is just to give you an idea of what is going on in my mind. I hope you enjoy! ------------ It rushed over in waves; nausea; displacement; it felt strange. Yet slowly, he pushed through it, he found his senses. Slowly, they returned to his use, though not his mastery. He was lying upon a cold surface. Metal, ceramic, he could not tell. He moved an arm under his body and pushed. Slowly he maneuvered himself, partly on his side, and he decided to take the chance. He opened his eyes, seeking to rid himself of the black before him. And it was still black. Maybe not as hard, or deep, but the darkness remained. He blinked several times, wondering if he had managed to open his eyes. The lids did feel rather heavy. So did his head, and he rolled his body over, onto hands and knees, and placed one hand to his temple. He leaned his body upright with a groan, while on his knees, and rubbed his eyes again. He saw the little lights and images all people see when they rub their eyes. His fingers applied pressure, triggered nerve endings, set neurons to fire, translated something to his brain. When he opened his eyes again, still it was dark, almost black, but he thought there was a difference in one direction. He turned his body to face that direction, all the while letting out heavy breaths and stifled moans as his aching joints and sides resisted his motions. He set himself cross legged on the cold floor, staring at that slightly lighter patch in the darkness. His left hand moved to his head, his right hand to his ribs. He felt awful. Such feelings almost pushed out thoughts of where he was and why. His last memory was fuzzy. All of his memories were fuzzy as he tried to think through them. He had the vague recollection of a night of drinking. A bar. Gambling? Maybe, but it was more of a celebration. Images of friends, at least he hoped they were friends, surrounded him. Women. Lots of women. Lots of money, and lots of drinks. He almost smiled, thinking about the images of the lovelies he could remember. And the men around him, saluting him with drink after drink. A wild night, yes, a celebration, in the corner of a noisy bar, somewhere... He sat as still as he could. It hurt less this way. He listened, because he had nothing more to do as he flitted through the pieces of memories. His head spun and hurt as he moved through them. Yet his ears could hear something, in the direction of the lighter patch of black. He smirked, and was pleased when that didn’t hurt. He was remembering the evening, the party, and especially the women. Had he paid for their company? For their pleasure? Had one of them done something to him? He tried to push through those memories again, as sluggish as it was to do so, and wondered if he even knew his name. He had to, they were all chanting it as they celebrated. It was easy. A loud click caught his ear, and suddenly his eyes stung as a bright beam of light struck out from the darkness. "Mickey Laskin." A deep voice holding a serious tone called out. "I think so," he said, as he knew it was his name. Only after the words had left his mouth did he realize it may not have been wise to utter them. The slot in what he thought was a door closed, and he was cast into the dark once again. He listened now, to the ever faint sounds of a voice, probably the same voice, and he continued to listen. Soon, there was a clicking, and it grew closer. It held the rhythm of footsteps. He thought of the women in the bar. Their lovely shoes made those sounds. But what would one of them be doing here. There was some more conversation, and a few sounds of a computer keypad. The door slid open. The light was blinding at first, but soon his eyes adjusted. It was a silhouette at first, standing in the doorway. The pain subsided in his eyes, and dulled in his head. He knew at first the shadowed image was a woman. It explained the heel sounds clicking towards what he could only consider a cell. Had one of the girls from the bar come to bail him out of jail? He had flashes of their faces, those he could remember, and as his eyes adjusted again, he saw the face of the woman in the doorway. She was at the bar. She had even flirted with him. Maybe. "You," he managed to stammer out as the memories cam crashing back. There were memories of a woman with auburn hair, pretty greenish-brown eyes, and a few men who came up to her table after he had staggered over to it. "You were in the bar..." "Mickey, you fucked up bad." She reached outside of the cell and pushed a button, and soft lighting filled the dank room. She withdrew a blast pistol from a holster, as well as a knife, and passed them to one of the men he thought he remembered from the night before. "How did I, what did I," he stammered, but he was confused and lost in the conversation now. "Mickey," the woman said with annoyance. "You idiot! Fool!" He studied her as he fumbled for a reply, wondering why he was a fool, and why he fucked up. Despite her gear, she was pretty. Tight leggings, a short cut heavy jacket, left open to reveal something tight fitting underneath. Her hair was in a tail, and her ears had several piercings. Yes, that was the woman from the night before. And his gaze fell again to the boots she wore, lovely spike heeled ankle boots that made that delicious clicking sound... She was frustrated, and strode forward. He didn’t notice the look on her face, he was occupied. He watched the boots as she walked, he watched them as they stopped. He watched as the pointy toe of her right boot came up and kicked him in the side of the head. He closed his eyes and rolled about on the ground for a moment. He wasn’t willing to watch anymore, but as he opened his eyes again, he saw the sole come across his face, and felt it press down on his neck. He gurgled slightly, and clawed at the woman’s leg to no avail. He lacked the strength. "I should crush your throat now," she spat through gritted teeth. "What, did... I.." Mickey managed a few words as he fought to lift the boot from his throat. It wasn’t even arousing anymore. He was feeling threatened as he struggled to breathe. This wasn’t a game. "You don’t remember me?" She asked as she eased off the pressure a slight bit. "You’re...from the... bar. Rocks and Hammers Bar..." He spat out his reply as quick as he could as he sucked back as much air as his throat would allow.. "No, Mickey, not from the bar, that’s just where we picked you up, drunk." His eyes studied the shape of the woman once again. Her face, her pose, her demeanor. He tried to think of her voice, wondering where he had heard it before. Realization cut through Mickey’s clouded mind like as asteroids through the atmosphere. It was a large, fiery explosion of realization. "Oh no..." he muttered, "Black Kat Katrina..." "Now you remember, which is fine by me," Katrina said as she eased up once again on the pressure her boot brought to Mickey’s throat. "Had you remembered two nights ago," she said with a giggle, "you may have run, and it would have been messy." "Wait," Mickey stammered, "two nights? What the..." He paused for a moment, no longer a desperate animal grasping at Katrina’s leg, but a mere wide eyed boy, full of confusion. "I have never been hung over enough to sleep through two days-" "We drugged you." Katrina beamed with delight as Mickey mulled over what had happened. "I was quite upset that it took two days for you to wake up, but then, you didn’t pass out with one gelcap in your Orange Nebula. Frankie tossed two more into whatever it was you drank after that." "Shit." Mickey said it in a slow, drawn out whisper. He paused for a moment, staring blankly at the open doorway, and then up at Katrina. "So did you and your boys catch me to sell me, kill me, or what?" "Now, now, Mickey," Katrina said as she raised her boot up and moved the spike heel over her prisoner’s throat. "If I wanted to kill you, all I would have to do is put my weight down." She gently rubbed the tip of her boot heel over his throat, and with a quick, fluid motion, she pulled away, spinning towards the doorway and taking a few steps. Mickey swallowed hard. It was nothing like any of his fantasy games with the girls he liked to find for his sessions of adult ‘pay and play’. His mind was still blurry and sluggish, and he now knew it was the drug keeping it in a jumble. He pushed himself to a sitting position and shook his head. "I did a favor for you once, this is what I receive in trade for that?" The clicking stopped, and Katrina turned once more, looking down on the wretched man in her holding cell. The gaze was evil, full of spite, disapproval. Yet a smirk remained on her face. He looked back at her, trying to meet her gaze through half shut eyes. "So why am I in here, Kat? Where the fuck are we, for that matter." Katrina broke into a smile and waggled her finger back and forth. "Mickey, you were very bad, and that means you’re popular in the wrong sort of way. That will not do, with what you know, and after what you did." She stepped outside of the cell and moved her hand to the control panel. "As for where, it doesn’t matter. Your new home is this cell, for the moment." She paused, looking at the floor and clicking her tongue. "Hell, I think we’ll even feed you and keep you in good health for the moment." She raised her eyes and glared at the man again "Serullan gelcap sedatives really do mess up a body, as you may have noticed. It took me three days to get over the ones you slipped me, once upon a time." Mickey swallowed hard again, and averted his gaze ever so slightly. It wasn’t easy, taking his eyes off of those legs, but he managed. He could not defend himself against the truth at that moment even if he tried. His mind was not coherent enough. "You’ll be hungry, and I suggest you get some sleep, you poor bastard." Kat motioned behind the man, and as he turned, he saw a padded cot with pillow. The Black Kat quickly motioned for a tray of food to be placed inside the cell, and hammered the keypad outside. The door shut, and Mickey’s rage began to grow. "This is not fair, you can’t hold me!" he shouted as he heard the clicking and other footfalls head down the hallway. "And I knew my father, Kat, I’m not a bastard!" He fell onto his hands and knees as he struggled for the door, and decided to give up. Hopefully, the food was not poisoned....
PJ Posted October 17, 2003 Posted October 17, 2003 Laurieheels; Thank you for a sample of your literary work. It's quite obvious you have a flair for writing fiction. This particular sample exemplifies anticipation and frustration without resorting to fluff. That is not an easy task. If I were a fan of fiction, I would gladly pay to read your works. click .... click .... click .... The sensual sound of stiletto heels on a hard surface.
Laurieheels Posted October 17, 2003 Author Posted October 17, 2003 Damn, PJ, I was hoping you and everyone else would be a fan of fiction! And fluff is an awful thing, so prevalent in writing, whether it be for books, television, movies... Grit works so much better. Besides, people are real, why can't characters be real? They're supposed to be people, too! Thank you for the complimnets. I hope to make a career of this one day... I know people will tell me not to quit my day job, but as I do not have one yet... I'll work on getting one to pay the bills.
JeffM Posted October 17, 2003 Posted October 17, 2003 Hi Laurie I hope you are open to a little bit of technical criticism. A ceramic floor is unlikely to feel cold because it is such a low conductor of heat, a concrete one would be better. Is this the same Katrina and same story as in your story in Jenny's site or a different story? And damn, WHAT happens next? Jeff
stephen in heels Posted October 17, 2003 Posted October 17, 2003 if it was such a low conductor of heat then it would be cold.
JeffM Posted October 17, 2003 Posted October 17, 2003 Sorry maybe I should have said bad conductor of heat. Jeff
Laurieheels Posted October 17, 2003 Author Posted October 17, 2003 The character is a thief, and the room in general is cold, so everything would be cold. But it isn't ceramic, it's a metal. The character does not know this. He's disoriented, not able to think, because he has been drugged. The character of Katrina is the same as the one mentioned in the other story that was posted for a time on my Laurie's Lair preview site. However, I thought this had a bit more suspense in it, a bit more wonder, in that people might see this and ask what was going on. What is posted below takes place many, many years after the first bit of story. There is more to what I have written below, but Crystaline Stars is certainly not finished, not even close. If and when I start up the serial, it will begin with what used to be on my preview page, with much editing done to the story.
BadWriter Posted October 17, 2003 Posted October 17, 2003 Hi Laurie, I just wanted to say I have always enjoyed your writing. I enjoyed your diaries very much. It was much like making a new friend. You get to know the obvious stuff quickly and over time you're introduced to more personal aspects that help you get to know them as a person with hopes, challanges and setbacks just as we all have. At times I felt I was overstepping my bounds but I knew that it was all information you wanted to share. I appreciated the honesty of your work and felt joy when you found Chris. I think you're a terrific person. I read the excerpt from your story and thought it was great. I am a fan of fiction and read a lot of Tom Clancy-type books. Your excerpt was very descriptive and not only built interesting images in my mind but but delivered the emotion and not just the action. I've read published writers who tried it without success. I followed the link to Jenny's and dropped the whole story to my laptop. I'm heading out on the road again next week and look forward to reading it during the trip. You may not remember but I originally found this discussion group looking for a place to have my own stories. Post code has graciously put them on his site. http://www.missyshighheels.com/misc/stories.htm (Yes, shameless plug) I just wanted to take a few minutes to let you know that based on what I've seen so far, I'm looking forward to reading the whole story as well as the new one you're working on now. Best Regards, Charles
Laurieheels Posted October 17, 2003 Author Posted October 17, 2003 Thank you, BW. What is on the site now may be the same as what I posted below. It all depends on when you copied from it for the story that was there. I changed it because I had not edited what I sent to Fox, and later regreted it. I like that you can get a feel for the characters emotions. We all have them, they drive us, and that's important. Being too technical about the details can ruin things. One has to use actions to create personality, not just tell what happened. It's exciting for me, and I do hope I can make a career out of this, and not just a hobby. Just call me the idea factory
JeffM Posted October 18, 2003 Posted October 18, 2003 My apoligies for being so technical, there was no intention to ruin it for others. No excuse either but the reason is because I am a technical person, a technician. In a different message I did tell you how I liked your story about Katrina. And for this one I did try to get across to you that I liked this story by asking "what happens next?" It was meant to convey that the story grabbed my imagination and curiostity and so I want to know what happens next. Well what can I say now? I dont know so I will leave it as I liked what I read. Jeff
Laurieheels Posted October 18, 2003 Author Posted October 18, 2003 Give it some time, there will be more. It's written, just sitting there, but... since it takes place far in advance, and I was inspired to write it at that point, it may not show up if I write in a chronological fashion. Hrm... So many ideas, and no one paying for my time. Darn! heehee
heelsnhose77 Posted December 3, 2007 Posted December 3, 2007 Where can I get the full storie? Please post it here. I loved your sample but you site you listed in the 1st post doesn't exist anymore. Thanx
Nina Posted February 22, 2008 Posted February 22, 2008 I enjoyed this story very much! There's just one thing I would do differently though: If I was this amazing character, like most women I would aim for his head after I kicked him really hard between the legs! Nothing like pointy toed-stiletto boots for doing just this Nina.
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