The Waiting room

Another writeworld picture prompt - Station foyer. I searched through their FAQs and they said they don’t use pictures unless the artist has given them permission. I guess that means I can paste it on my blog, too; with credit, of course. I assume that the artists understand that people will write things to go with it and reblog it. That is the point of the exercise. 

Station Foyer by~atomhawk

Who said ‘Concept art produced for Wheelman - this was planned to be a playable area of the game. Due to time constraints, this was sadly dropped.’

The Waiting room

It wasn’t empty by any means, but every time she recalled that first glimpse of him at the railway station, she saw the whole room as bare… except for him. She was waiting for him and he was therefore, the only person she saw.

She had been waiting to meet him for her whole life.

Her legs were tired after the long trip and she was sitting on the floor under the counter of a closed bookseller. Her accompanying adult had gone to the bathroom. She had refused to accompany her, in case he arrived. She was safe under there; out of sight. The woman hurried off and swore she would hurry back.

A man dressed in jeans and a worn and faded working shirt came in the entrance and stopped nervously just inside the doorway.

She knew him the second she saw him. She didn’t know why; but she knew him.

She hadn’t wanted to miss him, but now he was here, she didn’t know what to say to him. She did manage to stand and clutch her small backpack to her chest.

When her escort came back, her shoes clicking hurriedly across the polished floor, the little girl hadn’t moved. She glanced in the direction the girl was staring. She didn’t say anything, but she reached her arm down and clutched the tiny hand. Her hand felt wet from the bathroom. The child wanted to let go but didn’t. She clung to her as if she was an anchor.

A little tug encouraged her to walk.

A worried glance up was met with an encouraging smile. “It’s what we are here for,” she suggested. “To meet your father.”

A tiny nod.

They crossed the wide foyer carefully. The woman understood the girl’s nervousness. She had done this before, the child hadn’t.

She called his name as they approached and he responded. The girl heard none of this. Her whole being was concentrated on him. He glanced down at her quickly, but continued to speak to the woman.

He asked something and the woman nodded.

He crouched down so that he was on an eye level with the child. He gave a tentative smile. “Hello.”

She tried to speak but no words would come out.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispered to her. “I’m so nervous, my mouth feels all dry and clicky and my tummy is all messed up.” Another smile. “Are you like that, too?”

She nodded.

He noticed a furry ear poking out of her backpack. “Does teddy have a name?”

She nodded.

He looked the question at her.

“Teddy,” she said.

He nodded. “Seems fair.” He studied her. “While we are exchanging names, what’s yours?”

She frowned at him.

“I know what it is,” he added, “I just want you to tell me, so that I know how you like people to say it.”

She thought about it and then nodded. “Kat. With a K.” She had just decided that. Her name was written as Catherine, but she thought she needed a new one.

“Hello, Kat with a K.”

“No-” She stopped.

He grinned at her.

“Joke,” she said.

“Yes.”

She managed a small smile.

“Miss Jones has to come and see the house and make sure it is all ready for you.” He spoke to her as though it was already decided. “Okay?” he checked.

She nodded.

He rose to his feet and suggested to Miss Jones that they should go in his truck.

His hand was right there next to his thigh and she lifted her hand and slid it into his. He gripped her hand firmly, but not too tight. He stopped talking and his eyes closed in a long blink.

She couldn’t see it. His lips moved as if he was saying something and then his eyes opened again.

He smiled down at her. “You hang onto Teddy and I will hang onto you. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

I can't talk to you right now

 I can’t talk to you right now.

A word prompt from writeworld. Write less than a thousand words using that sentence as a prompt. My effort is 849 words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t talk to you right now,” she said when he tried to pull her away from the others.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Go away!” she hissed at him.

He didn’t. It was really annoying.

“I’ll just wait here,” he said.

But he stood very close behind her; close enough for her to be completely aware that he was standing there. And he was watching her. The other workers gave her glances that asked questions with their eyes.

She emitted an annoyed huff. “Fine.”

She turned, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over away from the other women.

“What is the matter?” he asked. “You were fine this morning.”

“Shhh. Don’t talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, that’s why not.”

“I do? You think I might have noticed.”

She blinked. “W-what?”

He looked at her. “No girlfriend,” he said. “I don’t cheat.”

“Well neither do I,” she argued.

“Maybe… but you do believe gossip.”

She was a little annoyed; her friend had been so certain. “Wait a second… but you did have a girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“So when did you break up with this now non-girlfriend?”

“Yesterday.”

She had met him in a bar yesterday. After talking for fifteen minutes, he had said he needed to make a call. She had gone to buy another round of drinks while he did it.

“You called her,” she accused, “last night, when I went to buy drinks.”

“Yep. The second I decided that I wanted to bury myself in you.” He whispered the last part at her.

She frowned at him.

“Is there a set time period or something?” he asked.

“Well… I … yes. Yes. There ought to be.”

“There is? How long should the mourning period be?”

She made an annoyed noise. “I don’t know. More than two hours.”

He chuckled at her. “If it makes you feel any better she did one of those ‘I was totally going to break up with you, when you rang’ things.”

“And you believed her?”

“I did. We weren’t good for each other.” He studied her. “Did I seem upset?”

“No, but you wouldn’t be if you were dumping her.”

“It was mutual, believe me.”

“And then you just boomerang into bed with another girl?”

“Well, given you were that girl and you enjoyed it at the time, I didn’t think you’d be complaining.”

She blushed.

He leaned in close and stroked a finger up her arm. “In fact… boomeranging into bed sounds like a great idea. I don’t think we tried that position.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “It isn’t a position,” she grumbled.

“No, huh? You know, if you like rules, then I shouldn’t be here. The rules state that I am supposed to wait two days, or is it three, before I even call you after a date.” He leaned closer. “Days of not talking to you, or calling you, let alone offering to take you to bed.”

“It wasn’t a date,” she said. Why was that the part she chose to argue about?

“You’re right. We haven’t been on a date.” He gave her a raffish grin. “You want to go on one now?”

“I’m busy here.” That was a point. He must have remembered that she told him she would be here this afternoon helping out at the thrift shop. He had really listened to her.

“So that’s a ‘later’?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. Why are you so grumpy?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Lack of sleep.”

“Makes you grumpy. Got it. Good to know.”

“Well, you should. You were the cause.”

Another grin. “So you need to go to bed, then?”

She sighed. She was tired. And tired of arguing with him. “A date?” she checked.

“Yes. What time do you finish here?”

“I have another hour. It’s a voluntary thing, but I would like to stay to the end.”

“Excellent. I’ll be back to collect you in one hour.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You will be here?” he asked.

“Yes. I suppose so. Where are we going on this date?”

“My bed. We’ll call it a sleep date.”

“Will I get any sleep?” she asked in a low voice.

His lips brushed against her ear. “Only if you want to.”

She smiled. She stroked the middle of his stomach with the back of her fingers. She knew exactly what he looked like under that shirt and she was very glad to see him again; even if he had worn her out. Maybe especially because he had.

They stood there very close together and they both sighed.

“An hour is such a long time,” he suggested.

“It is, but you can do it.”

He kissed the side of her head. “One hour,” he breathed at her.

She watched him walk away.

She turned to go back to sorting items on the trestle table. The old ladies held their tongues for maybe thirty seconds before they all demanded to know everything. They had heard quite a lot given they all swore their hearing aids never worked properly.

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

The accidental trespasser

This weeks’ challenge from terribleminds and Chuck Wendig, was to use a random fantasy generator. It gave you five options at a time. I seemed to get lots of armies of orcs for some reason, but in the end, I chose ‘A stiff trespasser is afraid of her uncontrollable powers.’ Less than one thousand words. My effort is 979.

No idea what to call it… oh, oh, I know. The accidental trespasser. That’ll work!

http://www.random-generator.com/index.php?title=Fantasy_Character_Concept

The accidental trespasser

He was half asleep in front of the TV when he heard a noise like a rushing wind and then a thump from the vicinity of his kitchen. He lived alone and didn’t even own a cat so his first thought was that someone was trying to break in. He froze and listened intently.

Then, he heard a metallic crash followed by a muttered swear word.

Nope. They had already broken in. That was the sound of the cookie tin he had left too close to the edge of the kitchen counter hitting the floor.

He rose, looked around for a weapon, realised he didn’t have one and decided to investigate anyway. He tiptoed for the door. He rejected the surprise shouting approach, or calling out ‘who’s there?’ inanely.

He peered in the doorway and got a glimpse of a woman trying to pick up the broken biscuits and put them back into the metal container. She was tidying up? Some thief.

He glanced past her. The door looked undamaged and still latched. That was weird. The back of her head looked familiar. Wait a second… he knew her. She lived next door. She was the aloof, unfriendly type of neighbour who never acknowledged his smiles or waves.

“What are you-?”

“EEK!” She emitted a startled screech noise and dropped the tin again.

He probably could have just shouted at her and terrified her less.

“You’re home!” she squeaked at him.

“Yeah… duh.”

She looked around like a frightened rabbit. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“It’s my home. I can be here. The question is what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I was just standing in my kitchen, thinking of the view I can see into your kitchen from my window and the next thing, I was over here!”

“What?” She could see into his kitchen? He wondered if she had ever caught sight of his midnight milk raids; he was usually naked.

“I know it doesn’t make sense and I can’t even believe it and I am the one saying it.”

“Ah… okay.”

“You don’t believe me!” She looked wildly around. She was going to run for it; he knew it. The door was still locked so she glanced towards the hallway. She tried to dash across in front of him and he made a grab for her. He had no idea what he was doing; he just didn’t want her to leave before she had explained herself. He had just got hold of the top of her arms when there was that wind rushing sound again and a dizzying gamut of images swept past his eyes. He shut them to stop feeling sick and he clung to her. They stopped with a jolt almost enough to throw them off balance.

“Oh, no!” she wailed.

He opened his eyes carefully. They were at the park. Standing in the fountain.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I told you that.” She looked down and realised rather belatedly that he had no shoes on and that his jeans were wet to the knee. “Oh, no. And now you’re all wet.”

“Well, you are, too. Should we try and get out of here before anyone notices?”

He kept his hand gripped firmly around the top of her arm in case she tried to disappear on him again. They waded to the edge of the fountain, ignoring the gooey squishy things underfoot. A small boy pointed and laughed and he glared at him until he ran back to his mother.

He helped her step over the wide stone rim. He walked over to the grass to wipe his feet. She sat on the rim.

“Why are we at the park?” he asked her.

“I like the park,” she replied as she emptied water out of her shoes. “I come here a lot for peace.”

“Were you thinking of the park? When you tried to run?”

She paused and frowned as if she was trying to think. “Oh, I think I might have been.” She stood and slid her wet shoes on with a grimace.

“You think?” he asked.

“Are you criticising me?”

“Heck, no. Just trying to work out what happened.” The thought occurred that she could flash off and leave him here without a way of getting home. He reached over and grabbed her arm again.

She stared at his hand as if she had laser eyes.

“Ha,” he said. “That didn’t work.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“You looked at me as if you wanted me to burn. I don’t think you have that superpower.”

“Super power?” she repeated.

“How else do you explain moving almost instantaneously to a place you are thinking of? You’re the Nightcrawler.”

“Excuse me?”

“Comic book character. X-men?” he tried.

“Never seen it.”

“No, not the movie, the comics.”

She still looked blank.

“Blue guy, with three fingered hands, a prehensile tail and adhesive hands and feet.”

She glared at him. “You’re the only one with adhesive hands,” she accused.

He rolled his eyes. “He teleports. That’s the point.”

“Oh, I see.” She seemed to think about it. “So you think I go to the place I am thinking of?”

“Yeah. Like my kitchen. And why were you thinking about my kitchen?”

She just stared at him and blushed.

He put his hand over his eyes and muttered to himself. Crap. She had seen him. “So for God’s sake, don’t think of anywhere-”

His words were cut off with another rushing sound.

His feet were burning on hot asphalt. He hopped in place for a second before a blared horn, followed by a stream of abuse from a cab driver told them to get out of the middle of the road. The cab was yellow.

“We’re in New York.” He sighed resignedly.

“Oops.”

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

The crooked chapel

Another picture challenge from writeworld. They used a picture from deviantart called  Creapy-pinky church by ~daprato

I was going to write all sorts of things, but then I could only think of the children’s nursery rhyme. So I wrote two more verses for it.

There was a crooked man

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,

He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.

He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

On every crooked Sunday, he put on his crooked hat.

He locked up his crooked house, and put out the crooked cat.

He walked to the crooked chapel, with his crooked gait,

And he put his crooked sixpence on the crooked plate.

He prayed his crooked prayers and he smiled a crooked smile,

He liked the crooked chapel with its warped and twisted style.

He prayed that heaven’s gates would be just as curved and bent.

The crooked man thought perfection was better with a dent.

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

Hit me

‘Hit me’ - another word prompt from writeworld on tumblr. I really can’t help myself with these things. Sighs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hit me!” he shouted at her.

“What? W-why?”

“Just do it!”

“B-but I need a reason-”

“Just hit me.”

She folded her arms across her chest.

He made a noise of frustration. “Why do I have to explain everything? Why can’t you just do what you are told?” He pulled his boots off and threw them on the floor.

Her eyes narrowed. She felt like smacking him, now. She stood, turned her back and walked as far away from him as she could get. It wasn’t far. The cage limited their movement. The fact that they were even in the cage was her fault, too. She hadn’t done what she was told; she had ignored his advice and she had set off the trap. If he hadn’t been trying to rescue her, he wouldn’t have been caught in it as well.

It was all her fault. She was pathetic and hopeless and weak.

She sniffed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She heard him sigh. He stripped his jacket off and dropped it on the floor. His shirt followed.

He moved over behind her. His hands gripped the bars above her head. He had her trapped in the corner.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She didn’t respond.

“Let me explain. If I get angry, I can change and if I can change, I am strong enough to break us out of here. But we don’t have much time.”

“Oh.” She took a breath. “Okay. That makes sense. But don’t I make you angry already?”

“Frustration is different. That’s a human emotion.”

“So you need to feel really angry?”

“Or threatened, yeah.”

“I can’t threaten you.”

“You can. You are much stronger than you think you are.”

She thought about it.

He was right behind her. His height meant that he had crouched down to talk to her quietly and his head was now level with hers.

She leaned forward as far as the bars let her move, gripped them hard with her hands and then she flung her head back as hard as she could. She head-butted him; right in the nose.

“Ow! Fuck!” he swore, as he took a leap backwards.

She turned to see him clutching at his face with blood streaming from his nose. He glared at her and she could see the colour leach from his eyes. She swallowed heavily and pressed back against the cage wall.

His eyes had gone completely yellow.

She inhaled shakily. It might have been a good idea to ask him what he turned into before she had done that.

His arms were vibrating; his fists clenching convulsively. A long, low growl escaped from his clamped jaws. He shook his head in a curiously feline gesture and the longish brown hair on his head gained hints of orange. His jaw lengthened and filled with enormous teeth.

She watched; utterly fascinated and more than a little terrified.

He shook his whole body, and orange and black fur seemed to spill out of him. His clothes tore apart with the swiftness and violence of the change.

He fell to the floor on enormous paws the size of dinner plates. His tail twitched behind him.

She now shared the cramped cage with a tiger.

She was holding her breath.

The animal blinked, then turned its head from side to side, before it lifted up on its back legs and pushed at the roof of the cage with those paws. The man had been six feet tall, but the tiger had to be closer to ten. It was enormous.

The muscles in its hind legs bunched and with another push, the cage roof detached from the walls. There was a second of silence before the sides started to cave in on them. Without hands to catch it, the cage roof fell onto them as well. She screamed and threw her hands over her head; crouched down in the corner.

The animal pounced on her and shielded her with its body. That pungent animal smell encased her as the metal crashed down onto the floor.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered.

A rough tongue licked up the side of her face. It was like sandpaper.

“Ewww.”

She crawled out from under it and rose unsteadily to her feet. The animal glided after her, letting the cage walls fall to the floor.

The noise would bring some attention. “We need to go,” she told the tiger. His boots, jacket and shirt were trapped under the bars, but she tugged them free. As she ran for the door, she grabbed her backpack from the bench and stuffed the clothing in it. The tiger bounded ahead of her. He looked ready for a fight.

The thought crossed her mind that he had no trousers. She looked around and grabbed some kind of kilt that was hanging on a hook. She grinned with the thought that he’d look good in a skirt.

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

The ferry

Her head had sunk down and her chin rested on her chest. She was dozing; the gentle sway of the horse rocking her into sleep as effectively as her nanny’s foot pushing the cradle when she had been but a babe. She didn’t see the city built on the cliff tops. She didn’t see the dirigible ferry docked at the Eastcliff platform.

The endless drizzle had left her soaked to the bone and cold. The discomfort and the long days of travel piled on top of her weariness. The leader looked at her and then reached for her horse’s bridle. He held her mount back from the others. A silent signal sent them on head. His deputy could haggle over the fare.

The airship sailed silently down to the valley floor and started to load the first few horses. They were lucky to have made such good time. No one wanted to be on the valley floor after dark. The mounts needed to be held fast with words of comfort whispered in their twitching ears. They had done this before, but it didn’t mean that they liked it. The party kept their voices low in order not to spook the horses.

He loosened her reins and her horse dropped its head and started to munch at the incredibly green grass. It must be the constant rain that kept it so lush. The man watched her, concerned that she would fall. He checked, but she slumbered on as the second load started the vertical ascent. The loud clanks and escaping steam of the engine failed to wake her.

He let her wait until the last group. Then he needed to wake her in case she fell while they were on the platform. She also had to hold her own mount. A heel in the side coaxed his horse closer to hers. He leaned over and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The obvious affection in the gesture was hidden from the rest of the party.

“Hey?” he called to her softly.

She leaned into his hand before her eyes fluttered open. She focused on him and then blinked slowly before she sat up and pulled away from his hand. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “You were tired.” He jigged his head upwards. “You need to dismount and hold the horse firmly. She won’t like it, but she can’t stay here.”

“Oh. Okay.” Her eyes opened wide as she caught sight of the airship. “Wha… why?” She was dumbfounded.

“It’s an airship. The cities are built on the cliffs. It travels between the cities and down to the valley floor. The inn is in Eastcliff.”

As he talked, her eyes scanned further down the valley. She could see other towns clinging to the cliff edges. All had enormous wooden docks jutting out over the precipice.

“Why don’t they just build the inn down here?” she asked.

“It’s safer up there.”

“Oh.” She dismounted quickly.

“And we need to travel on from here,” he added.

“Yes.” Her head dropped.

He hated reminding her of their final destination.

She huddled closer to her mount and watched with wide eyes as the airship slowly descended.

They walked their horses carefully onto the hanging platform. With an enormous groan, the ship swayed a little and started to lift. Wheezes and clunks came from the steam powered engine. She startled at the noise and he hid his smile. She was flightier than her horse.

He watched her as she gazed out over the valley, her head turning this way and that in an effort to see everything and take it all in. He felt guilty for not waking her earlier, but he knew how tired she was. She had started to develop dark shadows under her eyes. She was not used to this life and had never travelled before. He half wished she had no need to travel now.

They had another five days before he was supposed to deliver her and be paid. He wondered if they had time for a rest day so that she could be at her best when she arrived; not that it would help her.

His deputy was alone at the docking station. He hadn’t expected the others to wait.

A raised eyebrow was the only comment. They knew each other so well.

“Monroe.”

“Inn is packed,” Monroe said.

It would be, with so many people travelling for the big celebration.

“Guys want to know if they sleep in the stable, can they pocket the coin?”

“I don’t see why not.” They had an allowance for food and lodging. The stable would be more comfortable than their usual quarters and it would help morale for them to keep the profits. None of them were particularly happy about this job.

The big man nodded and turned to walk away.

The leader turned to help her back on her horse. She shook her head.

“I c-can’t ride anymore today.”

He nodded. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “So, we walk.”

“It’s not as if we will get any wetter,” she said.

He smiled at her before he could stop himself.

She smiled back but her eyes looked sad.

He took a sudden step towards her. He didn’t know what he wanted to do or to say, but she put her hand flat on his chest. “Stop,” she whispered.

“I…” He shook his head. He didn’t have the words.

“I understand,” she said. “I know.” She stressed the last word.

How could she know?

“I know because that’s why I exist,” she answered his unspoken question.

“No,” he said.

“It has to be this way.”

“No,” he repeated.

She reached up and touched his face the way he had touched hers to wake her.

He wanted to scoop her up and run. She knew? She was much braver than he had ever realised.

Her tiny hand slipped into his and she squeezed it gently. “We need to go,” she said.

Her hand fell from his grasp as they sighted the inn.

~~~~

© AM Gray 2013

Another challenge from writeworld.tumblr

It was a picture but I don't want to post it here as it is from a deviant art account and is probably copyrighted. Alm-atias refuge by andreasrocha. In fact, a lot of his pictures make me want to write stories to go with them...

Apologies cracks the million

Well… picture me amazed. My second fic crashed through the million hit mark on fanfiction.net.  Best friends share everything did it a while ago in March 2013 and now, it’s Paul and Bella’s turn. In a way, it’s a more impressive feat because Apologies is half the length of Best Friends, so I guess it has been read twice as much! It is a little older, though. I am very proud of them.

This fic is a favourite with a lot of people. A huge amount of people tell me they reread it. The statistics show that, too; it gets a hiccup on the weekends. I have readers who tell me they read it aloud to their husband, printed it out and posted it to their man on active service in the gulf, and I have had over three thousand reviews on fanfic and many, many more on JBNP. (I can’t say how many - they don’t really count them.)

Apologies has won a couple of awards: it won the E is for erotic JBNP award summer 2011 and the Second All-Time Favourite Wolf Story of 2012. It missed out on being nominated in the non-canon awards as I had a limit of four nominations, but a number of people told me I was robbed; that it was the non-canon story. It has been translated into French by Emilie0611. She is up to chapter 43 - only one to go! Impressively, there are more than a thousand reviews for the French version.

I have a list of people to thank: every single reader (whether they reviewed or not), my betas; feebes86 and ruadhsidhe, JBNP for all their support and Goldengirl who made me some awesome banners. It was the kind of story where a whole lot of people gifted me banners. They got so involved in it.

I started writing on mother’s day 2011. My gift to myself, lol. I had been talking to one of my betas, feebes, about Paul Walker of the Fast and Furious fame. I sent her a shot of him from his Davidoff campaign with water trickling down his bare chest and that Paul became a different Paul in my head - the muse was off.

It was just supposed to be a sexy one shot rather than a full story. I posted the first chapter of complete smut; it ended with Paul saying that he was sent to talk to her and apologise for losing his cool and scaring her when he turned into a wolf. A few of the readers just said, “No - she can’t accept his apology. He has to apologise some more.” So I wrote a second chapter.

I had no idea where the story was going and that is unusual for me, so I asked the reviewers what they wanted. And they told me. So, now I had a to-do list of sex positions and locations. It was ridiculously easy to write. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I had that list? Maybe because Paul is my favourite character and I already pretty much had his character and speech patterns set in my head? I don’t know. But it took me from the 8th May to the 30th June and it was written; all nearly 100,000 words of it.

Now if I could just do that with my original works!!! *rolls eyes at self*

I realised as I was working that I needed something more to finish it, that there had to be something else to the story. It needed a finish. I went back and read through and oddly, I had left little hints to myself that I hadn’t noticed as I wrote. Not on a conscious level. I did read one review that stated that I had cleverly woven this thread through the whole fic. Uh-huh; not deliberately, I can tell you. But in any case, I like the ending. It works on a whole lot of levels. I always try to ‘fix’ Bella Swan. I like her to be more independent and to make her own decisions. In this fic she reinvented herself and even changed her name; called herself Izzy.

Funnily enough, I got a new name from this story as well. I made a joke when I posted a chapter that I had fulfilled a reader’s request. I said “Sabby's request for Paul to lose it and bust a nut... wish granted...whoa... I’m like some kind of fairy... the porn fairy.” There was much discussion on JBNP about what exactly a porn fairy left under your pillow. We decided it was booty dust.

And that’s where my profile pic came from. It’s me - as the porn fairy. Made for JBNP by enjoyyourjacob for an interview I did on the site.