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WOW, How did that happen  lol    TY Lover   And a "full" member of Forum now too  yayy

Congrats Brandy...

The next episode has been delayed due to unforseen circumstances. I hope to get started soon.. So don't give up on me yet..

I gaze at the picture for minutes, not grasping the riddle for a long time. Over and over I write down what I see:

Sun with closed eyes
‘Stop’
Color: Orange

I look back at the picture, and in the left corner I see some scribbles, appareantly not a part of the original picture. I try to zoom in on the phone, only to find the picture blurred, the signs blurring beyond recognition. I look at the phone and find a small latch, a socket for a usb-plug hidden behind it. In thoughts I walk back down the stairs again.
‘ Stop’ Does that reflect on the light of the lighthouse? If that light would stop, it would mean the sun is shining, so daybreak..’

I walk into the study and switch on my laptop without noticing my actions

‘But the sun has its eyes shut.. So ‘Stop’ might mean when the sun stops shining. In 24 hours.. But.. That would make it impossible to get there in time... Let me see.. It is 5 hours later there.. That means 11 am.. I have 24 hours.. But, if I go there, it would mean either less as 24 hours, or more... Not 24 hours exactly.. So I have to solve the riddle and it isn’t sunset tomorrow..’

The screen of my laptop blinks and I click on the browser, entering [sunset bait island}, which only leads to links for tourist destination in the states and Canada. I widen the search and look for sunset and –rise times UK. After clicking for a while, I find a sight that shows the times but as I look at the numbers, an eerie feeling creeps up on me.

‘It can’t be a specific time... It has to be more general. Without a date, a time is useless... But the date isn’t given yet. Or is it hidden in the riddle? No.. that can’t be, can it? They would have asked for it... Oh darn..’

With a deep sigh I push the laptop away, my mind working at full speed, but unable to solve the riddle. I open one of the drawers of the desk, fumble through a web of cables and find the one with the right connectors. I open the little latch of the phone, plug one end of the cable in, then trace the cable and insert the larger plug into my laptop. The comforting bleep of the machine detecting a outside source sounds, and a little menu pops up. Quickly I look through the directories of the phone, finding the folder that contains the picture, and upload it to my laptop.

I open the image-viewer and select the picture, zooming in as far as I can, trying to make sense of the little scribbles in the left bottom corner. But there is nothing.. They seem to be just scribbles, left overs from when the picture was put together. I look at the file format and sigh.. .jpg That means that the layers that the picture was made from, are merged and impossible to seperate. At least, with the programs I have.  Not that it matters, the picture is meant to deliver one message only, and the layers were merged for that purpose..

‘Does the sun keep it’s eyes shut? Or are they shutting because of tiredness, the time to sink below the horizon? And what is the meaning of the word stop? Stopping sun? That’s the same isn’t it?’

Something gets stuck in my mind as the thought passes. The stopping sun.. There is a word for it... But my memory clogged, the little forks in the roads leading me away from the solution. Despaired I lean back into the chair, folding my hands behind my head, looking at the ceiling, dark oak beams lining and supporting the white ceiling. The first rays of the sun fall through the windows and hit the books behind me on the shelves, the birds softly whistling in the trees outside. With a deep sigh I push myself up from the chair and walk through the house to the stairs, deciding to go for a run, to clear my mind.

***

Almost without a noise the steel door slides open as she approaches. Her clearance granted at the backdoor of the mansion, leading her through the kitchen and without obstruction to the stairs to the cellars. The sensors and infra red camera atop the door to her workspace, her ‘dungeon’ as she calls it lovingly’, flickering, taking in her frame, body heat and heart rate, granting her immediate access. The clcks of her high heels echoing through the concrete room as she slowly approaches the old sofa set up in front f the glass desk with the monitors and the single, brushed steel keyboard.

Her hand slides over the dameged fabric of the old chair, as if she was caressing her lover, the sofa the only thing that moves with her when she switches jobs, though it has been gathering dust and losing resiliance in the springs in this basement for the past 5 years. Her arm stretches and touches a smal fingerprint reader, a green light flashing and the comforting humming sound of her system coming to live. Her purse left at the foot of the sofa, her slender legs folding over eachother as she sits her slender body down.

Her hand automatically moves to the right, finding the stainless steel mug, lifting it and setting it down immediatly again, empty.. She sighs and pushes herself off the sofa, moving to the corner and turning on the coffee machine, opening the top and searching in a container for a pad. Mocca, a dark blend, creamy and strong. Her sugar bowl checked, half-full, enough for the remainder of the morning. The flashing light of the machine stops and she presses the button, the coffee starting to drip then flow into her mug.

Before the machine stops dripping, she pulls the mug away, adds two teaspoons of sugar and moves back to her sofa, bringing the mug to her nose as she leans back. She closes her eyes as she draws in the aroma deeply, her mind getting charged and freed from the last clouds of sleep. She licks her full lips, pouts and folds them around the rim of her mug, sipping the creamy layer off the coffee, savouring the bitterness before she stirs. With a smile she puts the mug on the desktop and stirs, as she enters her password into the menu on the central screen.

As soon as she hits enter, the screens start to spew out information. Her eyes glide over the screens and get stuck at the one that shows the hidden camera in the study of the target. The room is empty, the chair abandonned, even the clues that were sent so far had been taken out of sight, stored in a drawer somewhere. She opens the database and searches for the stored video images, finding a back-up of the past two hours. As the videoplayer loads, her hand grabs the spoon in the mug, stirs vigorously before her fingers fold around the handle and brings the mug to her lips. The mug tilted, the hot coffee touching her lips, flowing into her mouth, then a curse, coffee spilled and the mug slammed back onto the desk. Too hot..

She curses, keeping her voice low, and looks around for a shammy or a cloth. She finds a packet of tissues and quickly cleans up the mess. Her eyes focus on the screen again as she brings the mug back to her lips, this time blowing on the hot, sweet liquid before taking a small sip. As the caffeine rushes through her veins, she skips through the video images until she sees the first movements in the room. The target appears, opening and starting his laptop, attaching the phone and almost pushing his face against the screen. A soft smile curls her lips, her pride molding her face as she remembers putting the image together.

She notices the frustration in the face of the target, his green-grey eyes squinting as he studies the picture, then his hands pushing the laptop away, most of his body disappearing out of sight as he leans back. The robe he wears slides open, a hint of his manhood catching her eye as the video speeds by. With a blush on her face she halts, rewinds and looks at the few frames again in slow motion, before letting the video end, confirming the idle state of the room shown by the hidden camera.

With a sigh she clicks and opens her email, going through the messages quickly, until she spots the mail from Tess, the liaison at the luggage storage. Her report vivid as always, her words colorful as she describes volume, viscosity and taste of the targets semen, the length and thickness of his member and especially the way he orgasmed in her mouth. She has yet to be let down by a target, her missions are always succesful. Maybe it is her red hair that entices men to follow her lead and let her do whatever she pleases.

But she is dilligent in her tasks and below her mail is a report from the lab, the result of the intensive medical and chemical examination of the target’s semen. The results look promising and the report of Tess shows a greedyness of the target that some how sends a shiver down her spine. She starts to read the medical report with a blush on her face



Smiling she closes the report, convniced he target is a healthy man, in the prime of his strength. She selects the list of task and ticks off the medical report and the meeting with Tess, the whole plan is working perfectly. Suddenly the steel door slides open, startling her, her attention immediatly focussed on the screen.

“Did he pass the medical”

The long fingers of his right hand slowly stroke the long white hair of his goatee as he looks at the slender blonde, folded up on the ragged sofa in front of the computer screens. From the side he notices her blush and sees her quickly close a few documents. He makes a mental note of her behaviour and decides to look back the video of the cellar when he returns to his office.

“Yes sir, he passed with flying colors. I will send a message to his beneficiary that the target is all clear.”

“Very well, how about The Choice? Did you double check?”

Her hands start trembling slighty as the words resonate in her head. Somehow the coming event makes her nerveous, anxious, envious even. The target will make his choice, his partner for the final night. A tight squeeze of her abdomen, the sting of envie runs through her body as she focusses on the screen and answer with a softer voice as before.

“Yes sir, all girls have been selected, informed and will be there at the agreed time. They are all in the mansion as we speak”

“Good, I will leave you to your work”

The steel door slides open and closes, the room suddenly feeling warmer as she looks over her shoulder to convince er she is alone. Slowly she turns her seat, knowing the angle of the camera can’t capture her face, and opens the picture of the target she saved. Her arm stretches out and her finger follows the outline of his face, moves over his lips before reluctantly her hand is pulled away.

***

The run in the park nearby has doen me good. My body is tired, sweatting but my mind is cear and my focus is back. The short night, the endless thoughts about the puzzle and the meaning of all this mystery had clogged the natural flow of my thoughts. Exhausting my body usually clears my mind and this time it has worked as well. Panting, leaning against the doorpost, I open the front door with my key and let it swing open, a soft breeze washing over my face and cooling me down before I step inside. I walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and take out a bottle of juice, putting it to my lips and drinking eagerly. A drizzle of juice runs down my chin, spilled as I turn my head towards the hall. A soft, short buzzing sound reaches my ear and draws my attention.

With the bottle still in my hand, I walk into the hall, following the soft buzz that is heard every few seconds. Suddenly the lighting of the small screen of the mystery phone is caught in my eye and quickly I rush towards it. Picking it up, I see a new message has arrived. I open it and sigh disappointed. A notification 12 hours have passed. And the answer still eludes me. Confronted with the riddle, I feel my mind emerged in thoughts again, trying to tear the hint apart and find the answer. Deep in thoughts I walk up the stairs, go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I strip and get in, the luke warm water washing the sheen of sweat off my skin. Quickly I wash myself, my body and hair and after a quick look in the mirror, I decide not to shave. I get out of the shower, wrap a towel around my hips and enter my bedroom, the sun casting its last rays, the wall at the back of the room colored orange. I open the windows and sit in the sill, letting the evening breeze wash over my body. I admire the sunset and sudenly a smile starts to curl my lips.

“How could I have been this blind? The stopping sun, no specific time without a date. When does the sun stop shining? At Sunset! Idiot!”

The towel slips off my hips as I dash through the bedroom, down the stairs and grab the phone. I open the initial message and press ‘answer’, entering the answer to the riddle:

“Sunset”

With my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes glued to the screen of the phone, I walk back upstairs, my naked body shivering with excitement. Before I reach the top of the stairs, the phone buzzez and I almost drop it. With trembling fingers I open the message:

“Correct, be at the King’s Theatre, 1025 Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, New York City, 10 am tomorrow”

I stare at the screen, knowing the location, the theatre even. As I studied architecture for a while, this abandonned theatre was visited during a tour, disclosing some hidden gems of early 20th century architecture. With a glorious feeling I drop the phone on the bed and slowly start dressing myself, then walking downstairs to prepare for the evening, lost in thoughts.

***

As soon as her system switches from camera’s, she looks up to the screen and watches the target move up the stairs. Dressed in shorts, a sweatshirt and with headphones on, he walks up the stairs, his face looking disappointed. She leans in, gazing at the screen, a tingle felt in her stomach the target moves into the bathroom. Her hand stretches to her mouse, selecting the hidden cam in the bathroom, something the survey-team installed on her specific wish. Her skin starts to color, a pinkish sheen shininh through, disclosing her growing excitement.

Her mouth opens and her tongue slides over her lips as she watched him undress, her fingers moving automated, tracing intricate patters on the glass desk, her mind picturing his hairy chest underneath the tips of her fingers. Her breath quickens as she watches his hands slide over his body, quick and firm, washing the sweat off his muscular body. Slowly a wet spot starts to form in her panties as soft words flow from her lips.

[color=”beige] “Go on mr Weaver, you are forgetting a spot..[/color]

Suddenly she giggles, closes the screen and rises from her seat, her cheeks red with embarrassement and hidden excitement. She walks towards the steel door, casts a last look on her screens before she silently moves towards the restrooms below the stairs. She steps into the women’s room and locks the door behind her, hiking her tight, black dress up her thighs and pushing her hand into her panties. She whimpers as her fingers touch her sensitive lips, the tip of her finger pushing agaiinst her wet sex, collecting her dew, coating her finger before she pushes it up, underneath the hood that covers her clit. A soft moan is emitted from her throat, deep and trembling as she touches her swollen nub, her excitement surprising her, fuelled by the images of the target and the remainder of her arousal after playing with herself the night before.

Knowing her own body well, her climax is close, her fingers pinch and her body is rushed towards the threshold of her climax. The walls containing her need are crumbling as she closes her eyes and pictures the target in front of her, pushing her against the wall and taking her without mercy, claiming her body as she willing opens herself for him. She gasps for air, pinching her clit again and then a long sretched moan accompanies the warm gush of extacy running through her body. She pushes her knees together, clenches her thighs as her honey flows from her sex and coats her digits.

For a few moments she clings to the warmth that fills her veins, her eyes closed shut, then slowly she brings herself back to the present. She opens her eyes, slides her hand from  between her thighs and quickly cleans herself after sucking her own juices from her fingers. She steps in front of the mirror and splashes some water in her face, her cheeks bright red, hot to the touch. With a naughty smile around her lips, she winks at herself, pulls her dress down and looks at herself to check for flaws. Satisfied with her appearance, she unlocks the door and steps out, walking back to her work station, a slight spring in her step making her hair bounce on her shoulder

***

The evening seems to crawl by, every few minutes I look at the clock, pushing the hands forward with my thoughts. My mind keeps tumbling aorund in my head, trying to make sense of all that’s been happening. Who’s my benificiary? What is the big prize? How on earth am I going to Bait Island to this bloody lighthouse? A shiver runs down my spine as the suspicion of someone playing a prank of me, passes through my mind. But left quickly, the plan too elaborate for that. There must be more to it. What’s with this name that keeps ringing in my head? I have heard it before, in a darker context. Something hidden, but also a sheen of wealth, luxury and exclusiveness is connected tot his whole riddle.

This prize must be something special. So far a lot of money has been involved in arranging all of this. The package delivery, hacking into my pc, the girl at the luggage deposit.. I grin for a moment as I let the scene with the fiery redhead linger in my mind for a few moments. My hand automatedly moves tot he desk, gripping a glass of single malt, briging the cool crystal to my lips. I sip slowly, let the nutty, caramel flavors fill my mouth, before swallowing. The taste filling my nose and pallette, the gentle burn in my stomach warming me through and through. I yawn, empty the glass and push myself off, slowly moving upstairs to the bedroom.

For a moment I stare out the window before undressing and getting into bed. I push the thoughts about the riddles far away and start wondering about the prize I am promised. If I solve the puzzle.. And without intent, my mind starts its little circle again. After an hour of pondering and thinking, finally my eyes close and I slip into a shallow, restless sleep, awakening hald a few times during the night, dark brown eyes haunting me, appearing in every woman’s face I see.

Bathing in sweat I am woken up by a ruthless alarm, my eyes sticking together, pushed open as I rub my face with my hands. Thoughtlessly I reach over and hit the offf-button, the red digits blinking: 07:00. I sity up and collect my thoughts, pulling myself from the dream I was in, the brown eyes burned into my memory. I shrug my shoulders and climb out of bed, slip into a robe and walk downstairs. Out of curiosity, I open the front door and look outside. Besides some singing birds, nothing disturbs the peace this early, no unknown packages left on the threshold.

I go into the kitchen, turn on the machine and the tv, clicking through the channels as the machine warms up. Suddenly a name is mentioned and my attention turns to the tv. Passing through channels, I ended up with an english one, the BBC. The news is reporting on an old lighthouse being shut down the whole month of june, an inspection showed it was dangerously weakened and needed considerable repairs. My eyes go wide as I see the picture of st Mary’s Lighthouse appear on screen, while the ankerwoman reports the lighthouse will be taken out of service until the end of June.

I shake my head in disblief. ‘This just can’t be coincidence. It just can’t be... But, this also gives me a clue.. The lighthouse will be closed until the end of june. That means the date of the great night will be around then... But what are they doing inside the lighthouse? It’s the end of April, that means it will be closed for at least 8 weeks.’ I turn to the coffeemaker, put in a pad and press the button, waiting for the cup to fill. I add sugar and walk towards my study as I stir the hot liquid. Mocca, with two spoons of sugar. I pout my lips and place them against the cup, then curse and bang the cup on the desk, spilling coffee over the shiny surface. Too hot..

***
She puts her hand in front of her mouth as she hides her half loud giggle, seeing him burn his mouth through the hidden cam in his study. She blushes as she zooms in on his lips, her view blocked as he whipes them with the back of his hand. Quickly she hides the screen as she hears the steel door slide open, adjusting her short, tight black dress. Her employer slowly walks in, his slender, long fingers caressing his goatee in his characteristic manner.

“Is everything set Ella?”

“Yes sir, he is awake, the girls have been woken up and are having breakafast at this moment. They will go up in 30 minutes and get dressed for the Choice”

“Good, the lighthouse has been closed and the technical crew is arriving there tomorrow. I need you to relay the confirmation of their arrival as soon as you receive it. You know when to leave fo the theatre?”

“Yes sir, I will leave her exacly at 9:30. I need only 5 minutes to set up, so there is plenty of time to correct anthing that might go wrong unforseen”

“For everyone’s sake, it better go smoothly. We have a perfect record to hold up”

Without waiting for a reply, he turns and walks out of the room, the steel door closing with a soft click. She takes a deep breath as the warmth returns to the room and she can focus on her screens again. She opens the window of the cam in the study and sighs disappointed. The room is empty. Quickly she runs through the different cams in the house, but she can’t fiund him anywhere. At last she selects the cam of the study again and to her relief he has returned.

She looks at the clock, 7:30 am. He should get ready soon or else he won’t make it. She catches herself gazing at the screen and calls herself to order. She opens the schedule for today and checks off the things she has already done. She smirks as she tiicks off “make boss at ease”. Below the entry is the next one. She picks up the phone and presses speed dial. The phone on the other end is picked almost immediatly.

“Yes ms Ella?”

“Mitchel, are the girls getting ready?”

“Yes miss Ella, they just came up after breakfast”

“Make sure they all wear the right suit”

“Ofcourse miss Ella, they are all numbered, it will go flawlessly”

“Thank you. See you in 2 hours”

Put at ease she leans back into her ragged chair and closes her phone. She ticks off the next box and looks at the next one. Her maticulous way of working has always pleased her boss and it has brought her a great sense of peace when she sits in her chair. Organised, she is in control of everything. Though there is this small nagging voice in her head, trying to convince her this time it’s different. To silence the little voice, she opens the files of the girls selected for the choice.

They are from all backgrounds, all origins, all different types and characters, but all with a single matching quality. They radiate sex when they move, talk or simply sit somewhere. Some of them have gone through the Choice before, experienced with the procedures, but not chosen. Most of them are there for the first time. She can almost taste the excitement and tention the girls must be feeling.To be chosen is a single time event and promises the girl a prize as big as that of the target.

Time passes as she works down her checklist, performing each task she wrote down for herself to perform this morning. From time to time she pushes her slender body off the couch and makes herself another mug of coffee. She blows on the hot, sweet liquid before slowly sipping, the sweet bitter taste filling the cavity of her mouth. Time passes unnoticed as she concentrates until a small light starts blinking on her phone. It’s time..

***

I start to go through my normal morning routine as the notion of the newsreport starts to sink in. I set my coffee on the kitchen table, turn a chair around and sit on it, legs spread, my chest leaning against the back. I grab the pouch of tobacco and slowly start to roll a cigarette, the only one I’ll allow myself to smoke. I put the slender cilinder in my mouth, light it and inhale the spicy smoke deep into my lungs. I take a sip of coffee and slowly smoke while I switch through the channels. The daily news is as interesting as it is a repetition and after a while I turn it off, moving back into my study. I look at the antique clock I inherited from my grandfather, 7:30 am. I start to gather a few things to bring with me to the theatre. My keys, both phones, sunglasses, wallet and a digital cam are neatly arranged on my desk.

I look at the clock again, 7:38. I push myself off the chair and move upstairs, taking a quick shower before dressing in jeans, a white t-shirt and a woolen sweater. I open the bedroom windows and let the cool air flow into the room. The weather is nice, warm enough to go out without a coat, the sky specked with clouds, but none look threatening enough to worry. I close the windows again and walk downstairs, gathering my things and walking out the frontdoor. I walk around the corner and open the door ot the garage, get in my car and drive off. My heart is pounding in my chest as I leave the street, on my way to the strange location that was texted to me.

After little over an hour through the heavy traffic of New Tork, having some luck that a road just opens as I turn onto it, I arrive at the theatre 30 minutes early. I park my car a few hundred yards away and take a good look at the theatre. The front entrance is boarded up, the facade hidden from view. Another site under construction, just like the lighthouse. Again a shiver runs down my spine, my mind tossing the possibility of a coincidence to the side. Across the street, with a look-out on the stage door, is a small coffeeshop with tables and seats at a window. Nonchalantly I get out of the car, walk in and order a cup of coffee, mocca, black with double sugar.

I walk to one of the tables at the window and sit down, slowly stirring the coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip. I have an excellent view of the front, the alley and the stage door and as I drink my coffee, I see a slender figure in a tight black dress and holding a laptop bag, cross the street, dribbling in her high heels, with zebra socks while she looks skittishly around. She slips into the alley, walking in the shadows of the building hugging the other side of the alley. She leans in as she reaches the door, as if she is looking through a peep hole, then pulls the stage door open. She slips inside and the door falls shut behind her.

I look at the clock behind me, 9:42 am. I have to wait another 15 minutes before I can cross the street. My fingers tap the smooth table top as my eyes keep looking across the street. Nothing happens after the girl slipped into the building and at 9:52 I get up from my chair, tossing the paper cup into the bin. I cross the street and walk up to the boarded front, trying to peek through the cracks between the panels. The darkness behind the panels hides everything and my tries to capture something fail miserable. The other side of the theatre is connected with the next building, the only entrance left is the stage door. With lead feet and trembling fingers, I walk into the alley, the shadows cast into the narrow passage making me shiver.

I walk up to the door, my attention drawn to some old posters, announcing shows and musicals. One sticks out, “The Choice, a production by IUD”, a black and white, faded picture of a chorus line of girls, the title and producer the only text besides the date of the show, 26th of april 1959. My eyes widen as I see the familiar abbreviation, the date stuns me. 1959... 53 years ago.. Trying to make sense of it all I just stand there for a few moments, gazing at the faded, torn poster. I shrug my shoulders and gather my thoughts, rememberring the reason why I am here. I grab my phone and check the time, 9:59, just a minute to go. I grab the doorknob and try to turn it. Nothing happens. I pull on the knob and still nothing happens. Again I look at my phone, my heart starting to beat faster as it indicates it’s 10 o’clock.

I try the doorknob again and again, but it is stuck in it’s place, as if it is there to give the door a true appearance. I take a step back and take a good look at the door. The intercom not functioning from the disconnected wires that stick out, a small hole in the center of the door, at the height of my chin, the paint chipped and appearantly old until the sun breaks through one of the clouds that drifts in the sky. The rays hit the door and on one of the bottom corners, the glisten of metal is detected, hardly visible. I take my keys out and tap them against the door, hearing the clang of metal on metal. Hmm, a strudy door and newer as meets the eye. I step closer to the little hole and start to lean in with a beating heart, bot sure what to expect and having seen too many thrillers.

Unable to withstand my curiosity, I press my eye against the little hole and am immediatly scanned by a green beam that pierces into my eye. I push myself away from the door to escape the blinding light and the door swings open as I restore my balance. I blink a few times until i can see depth again and look at the door. As I focus I see the door slowly start to swing towards me, frozen until the realisation seeps through. I jump forward and manage to pry my fingers into the small crack before the door closes.

I moan in pain as my fingers squashed between the heavy door and the doorpost, quickly sucking them into my mouth. I stand in the doorway, letting my eyes get used to the obscured light in the small hall behind the stage door.As I look around, I see the stairs to the dressing chambers demolished, leaving a big gap in the floor. The only way to go is to my right, through a dark, narrow corridor. With my heart pounding in my throat, I step forwards, the stage door closing with a heavy click

***

After her eye is scanned, the door releases and swings open with her gentle push. She steps inside and hurries through the dark corridor, moving up the stairs to the front of the theatre, where the technicians booth is, high up against the ceiling. At the top of the stairs stand a dark figure, hiding in the shadows. She sees his feet first as she ascends the stairs, his body entering more and more her view as she reaches the top of her view. A cheekish grin curls the lips of the small man, his broad shoulders and chest spanned tightly by a black turtle neck sweater.

“Glad you could make it miss Ella”

“Thank you Mitchel, good to see you. Is everything prepared?”

“Ofcourse miss Ella, everything is ready”

“The girls..?”

She looks at him askingly, though she already knows the answer. Mitchel is good at his work and his promise is kept. He must have heard the urgency in her voice as she spoke to him on the phone tomorrow, as he raises his hands and squeezes her cheek.

“Don’t worry Lass, everything will work out fine”

He turns and walks down the stairs, leaving her by herself and her worries in front of the tech’s room. With a sigh she opens the door and steps inside, turning on the ambient lighting on the floor, finding the small desk light on the control panel quickly. She opens her bag and takes out her laptop, plugging it into the system. She loads the lighting sequence and checks the sensors in the seat that was set-up for the target. All give a positive inout signal and all she can do now is wait. She looks at the slender silver watch on her wrist, 9:58. He should be at the stage door.

Nervously her fingers start to tap on the top of the control panel, her eyes checking her watch every 20 seconds, trying to stop the hands to move with the power of her mind. Suddenly she is startled with the bleep from her laptop, a green meny flashing. The eye scanner has scanned the targets eye. Her eyes flash to the monitor of the camera hidden in the intercom system. She watches as he stands frozen for a moment, then dash forward, only just preventing the door to fall shut. With a sigh of relief, she click to the next camera, watching him enter the dark corridor cautiously, as he shakes his hand, easing the appareant pain in his fingers.

She watches him slowly move forward, taking small, slow steps. Avading her eyes from the screen for a moment, she turns to the control panel and pulls a switch, turning on a spotlight in the dark hall beneath her. The spot lights a single seat in the front, just beneath the low stage. The rows of seats behind it are cloaked in darkness, as is the wooden stage in the back of the theatre. She hears the soft noise of the com system and puts on her headphones, adjusting the microphone, bringing it close to soft lips. Her eyes moving back to the camera system, following him move through the main hall behind the front facade, his way directed invisibly by Mitchel’s team, as they closed the place up, allowing only one route for the target. She interlocks her fingers as she watches him step into the theatre itself, holding at the entrance, the shutting door hitting him in his back


***

Slowly I turn the corner and start to walk through the dark corridor. My eyes getting used to the miss of light, start to seperate shapes and forms, then the end of the corridor. In front is a staircase, which has been shut off, danger signs warning for the stairs to be unsteady. The only way is to turn left and after a few steps I enter the main hall. I turn my head to the right and recognise the form of the entrance of the building, Then turn my head the other way and find the doors to the actual theatre open. I walk up to the doors and carefully stick my head inside.

There is a single spotlight on, lighting a single seat in the row of seats at the front of the small stage. The rest of the theatre is lcoaked in darkness. Slowly I start to walk down the central isle, closing in on the stage and turn left tohe illuminated seat. There is a small note pinned to the back of the seat, on the outside the familiar abbreviation hand written in black ink: IUD, mr Weaver. With trembling fingers I reach out my hand and take the note off the seat, sticking then pin in the fabric of another seat. I fold the note open and read out loud, unaware of being watched minitiously.

“Welcome to our show, mr Weaver. IUD presents:

The Choice

You have been approved by the IUD, you will receive the final prize if you manage to solve the clues before the night is there. For now, look at what is presented. There is one rule: No contact, in whatever way. You will not speak nor move. And be sure to know you are being watched. Now, please take a seat, you are our honored Guest”

I quickly turn my head from side to side after reading the message, eyes piercing into the dark but the blinding light of the spot prevents me seeing anything. The theatre is silent, just the beating of my heart and the soft rustle of the paper in my hand can be heard. I shrug my shoulders, trying to lose some of the tention, turn and push the seat down before I sit, facing the stage, the curtains closed.

***

As soon as she sees him sit down, her eyes flash to the screen of her laptop, whwre information starts to stream inn.s hidden in the chair inform her of his heart rate, his body temperature, depth and speed of his breathing, as well as the level of tention he experiences at the moment. The graphs are through the roof, she looks at the tv monitors and sees him fold his fingers in his lap, his ringfingers and little fingers touching, his eyes closed for a moment, then a relaxed expression on his face. She turns back at the screen and sees his heart rate plummit, almost landing on a normal level, his excitement levels dropping as well as his breathing becomes deep and slow.

Amazed with his abilty to calm himself, she waits until his readings are within the set parameters, given by the docters that examined his semen. As all 3 lights indicate green, she presses a button and a single spot is turned on, aimed straight down on the stage, as the spot above the target’s seat is turned off. She leans back and watches as the scene unfolds, keeping the lights in the corner of her eyes.

***

Suddenly the light above me and a light in front of me is turned on. Having just shedded some of the tention in my shoulders, controlling my breath, I feel my heart jump up in my chest again. The tention has made my shirt damp, cold sweat collecting in the fabric. Still the theatre is silent, the attention drawn to that small lighted circle on stage. Suddenly I hear the sound of bare feet move closer. From the dark behind the beam of light, a female figure steps into the illuminated circle, dressed in a skin tight suit, the texture unknown to me. It glistens and flashes, yet fades in the light, as if watching lighting through sunglasses.

Her legs long, her body slender and well formed, her breasts proudly crowned by hardened nipples. Her eyes are lustful, half-closed, her hips writhing to some unheard rhythm. Then suddenly she opens her eyes, looks straight at me and smiles. Her white teeth shining brightly against the background of her caramel skin, her narrow, glistening lips. A shiver runs down my spine as my body reacts, captured in that weave of desire she emits with her smile. I jiggle in my seat, then remember the warning in the note.

I focus again, only to see her disappear into the darkness of the stage behind the light. Not sure what to expect, I keep seated and wait, my anxiousness growing with every heartbeat. But the wait is short and while the seconds seem hours in this lonely seat, it only takes a few before the next girl steps into the light. Dressed exactly the same, the look on her face as lustful as the girl before. Again, this girl opens her eyes suddenly and looks at me, her body slowly slipping into a sensual pose, the look on her face cold. The tresses of her blonde hair crown her angelic face, the straight line mouth creating a strangely attractive opposite in her face.

Captured by the characteristic of her face, my arousal is fuelled and it is necessary to reposition again. When I look up, the girl has disappeared, making room for the next one. Her skin colour dark brown, the black suit drawing fine lines around her curves, her hair short, her breasts small, her body shaped like a ballerina. She as well has that look of pleasure on her face, just before she opens her eyes and focusses on me. She as well disapears into the dark after teasing me with her presence. Girl after girl appears in the spotlight, all with the same gaze of excitement over their face, all dressed in the same, strangely textured suit.

Having lost count after a few girls, overwhelmed by the feast of sexuality and sensuality, the spotlight is shut off with a loud click, leaving me startled in the dark. Frozen in my seat, unsure of what is expected of me, I sit motionless in the seat, waiting for the next development. The chandliers above my head and the small  lon the wall start glowing, filling the room with a soft, dimmed light, appareantly the sign the show is over. I look around and notice the ragged down interior of the theater, the path to this seat carefully cleared, the seat the only one without a speck of dust.

I get up from the seat and make my way to the exit, the deafening silence rsonating in my ears. I walk through the corridor where the lights on the wall have also been lit and I take a good look around. The staircase with warning signs is clean, the signs to new to be in accordance of their warning. Taking in the details of what must be a big operation, I walk back to the stage door. It starts to sink in that this is not done by a single man, a big organisation must be behind it, being able to put all of this together. That means money.. ‘Someone is spendding a bundle on me, but why is still not clear to me’

***

Her eyes look at the monitor, his face just visible in the light of the spot, his expression showing his growing excitement. For a man pushed into a pool with no proof of him being able to swim, he has shown remarkable skills to deal with everything that is thrown at him. How he calmed himself in the room downstairs made a huge impression and she monitors the readings of the sensors with a close eye. When girl nr 7 presents herself, she sees the readings peak and she looks downstairs to see which girl it is. Though she memorised the order of presentation, Mitchel might have had to change it at the last notice.

As she looks down, she immediatly recognises the girl, Chloe. When she saw the pictures of the girls for the first time, she was startled with the likeness of Chloe with herself. The same brown eyes with a focussed look, the same shaped figure though the girl is a few years younger and somewhat tighter around the waist. The same full breasts, even the nipples shaped the same. She takes in the readings from her screen again, noticing the difference in results with those of the other girls. The choice has been made. The 3 girls remaining are unlikely to trigger him to react stronger, but she keeps dilligently watching and noting down the results as the last girls pass through the spot light.

When the last girl disappears, she turns off the spotlight and leans back for a few moments, going through her schedule in her head, before she shifts the lever for the wall and ceiling lights, dimming them to the instructions the tech team gave her. She frowns, her mind worried as she touches the mouthpiece of her headphones.

“Mitchel, how well are our tracks hidden? He might come up the stairs”

Suddenly she feels a cold chill run up her spine, realising her volnurable postion, locked in a room without an escape, alone. Though there was no sign of violence in his files, they might have pushed a button. She leans in and watches the monitors closely, seeing him get up and leave the theatre. She notices his moving head, seeing him notice things that are just out of order. But he keeps on moving and leaves the building quicker as she anticipated. But there is something about this man, that the way he acts doesn’t surprise her. He seems eager to follow this adventure through. She leans back in her chair as she tries to surpress the attraction she feels welling up in her lower stomach, reaches to the desk, her fingers folding around the mug that isn’t there.

The rush of caffeine has disappeared and her mouth is getting dry, her brains getting the signal that another rush is needed. She yawns and starts to push herself off the chair in the control room. Moving through the door and down the stairs, she smells his scent in the corridor, following not too far behind him. Although her boss has goven her strict instructions, from experience she knows the target always goes straight home after the Choice. Though this target has shown some surprising skills, the chance that he stays around, is slim. Slowly she walks through the corridor, opens the stage door and steps into the alley..

***

I blink my eyes as I step through the stage door into the alley, the sun has moved and now shines down on the door. The alley is warm and quickly I move to the other side, cloaking myself in the narrow strip of shade. The whole experience has unsettled me, seeing the girls, how they seemed to be mesmerised byt something. Somewhere near the end there weas this one girl that triggered something inside me. Her brown eyes, the shape of her body, the way her hair was hugging her neck and shoulders, did something to me., My heart started beating faster and my breath quickened. My mind wrestles with the reason of this show.

Performed in a theatre, similar to the poster next to the stage door, this whole set up seems to be aimed at finding some kind of match. The obvious thing to think would be for sex, but would someone go through all this trouble for a good fuck? That seems unlikely. I move towards the exit of the alley, leaving the stage door behind me. I slowly cross the street and walk towards my car, a sudden rumble in my stomach informing me of my stomach being empty. Instead of unlocking and entering my car, I turn and walk back to the coffee shop, having seen some cinnamon rolls. I step inside and find a small queue, a few people waiting for coffee on the go. The place has come alive while I was in the theatre.

Patiently I wait for my turn, order a large mocca, with extra sugar and a cinnamon roll. I wait for my coffee to be made, nibbling on the roll, letting the stro0ng cinnamon flavor fill my mouth, I hear the door open. I receive my coffee and turn, bumping into a young woman. As my lips fold to form an excuse, they freeze. As I look into her face, finding her eyes to adress her, I immediatly drown as my focus is sucked into the intricate patterns of her irises. Translucent strings jump from my heart, penetrate her skin and me to her as our eyes interlock. I stare at her, unable to form words, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of her soul.

***

The need for coffee has settled in her body and determines her direction, taking her directly to the coffeeshop she passed on her way to the theatre. She looks around carefully as she leaves the alley, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. In her blue-and-white zebra socks, her legs move quickly, taking her to the other side of the street and the coffeeshop. She pushes the door open, waits for a couple to leave the shop, then steps in. Her foot gets caught behind the threshold and she trips, falls forward and lands against the strong body of a man. As she looks up to apologize, her heart jumps in her chest as she recognises the target.

She freezes, unable to speak with the shock of being eye to eye with the target, the man that has sparked her interest, that she feels attracted to. She clenches her laptop against her body and looks away, making room for the man in front of her to pass, her lips forming words that can hardly be heard. With her stomach squeezing, a flock of butterflies taking off, she senses the man standing still, idle, looking styraight into her eyes. She can’t deny the urge to meet his gaze and looks up, feeling lost as soon as her eyes focus on his green irises. Time seems to stand still as she feels him penetrate her skin, attach himself to her without her mind or body reacting, the familiar walls left crumbles, her heart exposed and lost as soonj as her eyes lock inm with his.

The little voice in the back of her head slowly starts to become louder as the seconds pass by unnoticed, making her aware of the situation she is in, sounding all the alarmbells that she installed earlier. With a jolt of her body she pulls herself back to the present and steps away, making room for the target to pass by her, focussing her attention on the shopkeeper behind the counter. She orders her coffee, while she takes a deep breath, taking in his scent as she feels him slip by her, words of apologee resonating in her head.

***

I feel her force herself to look away, breaking the intense connection that was suddenly there. I start to move, pushed her away by her focussed attention on the shopkeeper. I move towards the door, pull on it and look over my shoulder a last time. Blue-and-white zebra socks.. The girl that crossed the street and entered the theatre. She’s one of them!! I halt for a moment in the opening of the door, then suddenly feel the mystery phone buzz in my pocket. Forcing myself to walk outside, I slip my hand into my pocket and find the phone. In the sharp light of the sun, the text is hardly readable:

‘The Choice has been made. Go home, look in the paper tomorrow’

I click away the message and put the phone back inmy pocket, looking carefully around me as I walk back to my car. Seeing several cars nearby, I try to look into the windows, trying to find the ones that hav been watching me, feeling someone’s eyes on me, from somewhere. But no matter how hard I try, I find noone, nothing obvious that allows me to find out the secrets of the organisation behind this mystery. Just this girl.. How looks are imprinted in my mind, even though we met for just a few seconds. How we connected is something I have never experienced before. Definitly not one of the girls on stage, but the attraction I feel is so much stronger. Lost in thoughts, I enter my car, start and drive off, onmy way home.

***

‘Slowly she slides her dress up, exposing her lower body, the black laced thong stretched tightly over her hips and sex. She smiles as she cradles me with her legs, her hand sliding down and pushing her panties out of the way. Her fingers wet as soon as she touches her heated core. My member throbbing, fully erected, pushed between the lips of her sex as she pushes her panties out of the way and grinds her sex against my shaft. Her breasts exposed, her dress caught underneath them, my arms stretched out, fingers folded around her soft mounds. Her nipples pressing against my palms as I massage her mounds slowly. She tilts her hips, lifts herself up and guides my member to her entrance with her hand.

Suddenly she is dressed in the black outfit, the scene changing to the theatre. Her sex wet and tight, or so it seems as she pushes herself down on me, letting my member slip inside. The folds of the suit forming perfectly around my shaft as I enter her, the feel like her inner walls, silky, wet and warm, yet not her flesh. She closes her eyes as I look at her, concentrates and suddenly bolts of lightning scatter all over the suit, the sensations around my shaft like nothing else felt before. With a silent cry I orgasm, jet my semen into her sex, her smile wide, her body not moving an inch’

Bathing in sweat I wake up, my underpants wet on the inside, sticking to my skin as I lift them up. My shaft is trembling, the head wet, strings of semen dangling between my shaft and stomach. My breath is fast as her eyes dance before my in my mind. The dream too vivid, too real not to respond to it. Although my body is heavy with satisfaction, I push myself out of the bed, leave the bedroom and walk down the stairs. As if in a dream, I open the door, find the newspaper and pick it up. I walk back inside, into the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine, placing the paper on the kitchen table. Quickly I open the pages of the newspaper, finding the personal adds-section, my eyes flashing from the top to the bottom. On the second page, in the middle is a message, a picture. My eyes glued to it, I start to unravel it with my brain..



 ***

Honey moon sunset

what is the last thing needed for the final night?

Ok, recap :-     

What =  Lighthouse on an Island.
Where = St Mary's Lighthouse, Bait Island, Whitley Bay. UK
When = Sunset
Who  =   ?

Who is D Weaver? Who is the guy who strokes his beard ?

Is the Honey, the moon and the sunset a clue to the who?  mmm  and your last clue :- "What is needed for the final night?"

mmm  Honeymoon, sunset, final night  ....  I'm thinking maybe a wedding, a coupling of the perfect couple... mmm ... still no idea as to the who and why ..  arggghh l... going nuts again  ... lol

ms Brandy, one W is not complete. some info is missing. That info is asked for.. Remember? What is the use for the time of sunset, if you don't know the date...

arrr , so the honey , the moon and the sunset is the clue to the date.  mmmm.   mmmm.   Help  lol.

Who said it is a sunset...?

mmm  so the honey, a moon and  a sun with the eyes shut  =  the date ?

Don't forget about the third clue in the picture of the sun. The word is there for a reason.. A big reason...

ok, I ambushed Tight but all I got out of him was   "  Honeymoon and the moving sun stops" = date.    as in day, month and year.

mmm  Lover, anybody ?  Can you help with this too ?

I need inspiration as my minds full of new poses ideas lol