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Saturday, February 6, 2021

The Falling Star: Chapter 7, Part 2

 
Posted 04-07-18

Revised 02-07-21






An Angel from Hell story

By Christopher Leeson


Chapter 7, Part 2


Exiting the hotel by way of the stair, Jezebel filled Holly in.

“If those two aren't for real” said the ex-waitress, “it means that the bad guys must have planted that Holiday Inn message inside the Bible. That's not possible,
is it? We didn't even know ourselves where we'd end up that night. And why would they get sneaky now? Those tough guys who came for us were using muscle, not tricks. It doesn't add up.”

“There's one more thing that doesn't add up,” admitted Jezebel. “The girl with the reverend had a familiar face.”

“You knew her?”

“No. I just kn
ow the face. She's a dead ringer for...someone."

"Who?"

Jezebel took a breath. "A younger version of Princess Diana.”

The Princess Diana?”

The angel nodded.

Holly shook her head. “But she's dead. It has to be another impostor.”

“If it's an impostor, how could the Cabal think that it would be a good idea to shove her into my way?
I shoot that kind of person on sight!”

“That's super weird, all right. But you said the girl was young. The real Di would have to be in her fifties by now.”

Jezebel sighed. “Holly, you’
re going to have to toss your idea of science out the window. Scientists work for money, and the big money is always with the Cabalists. What scientists tell the people doesn't have to be true; it just has to serve Cabalist ends. Like global warming and evolution. A lot of scientists know about people like the princess, but they keep quiet. Hell, a lot of scientists are her sort. She's Nephilim.”

“What's that?”

“It means that she's descended from fallen angels who mixed with humans -- human or other creatures.”

The singer looked amazed. “There really are fallen angels? Are you saying that those old paintings of angels making out with hot girls come straight out of history?”

Jezebel grimaced uneasily. “Ah, yes. The Nephilim are half immortal. That lets them live about five hundred years. A lot of them shape-shift. They pretend to age. Then they stage phony death scenes and funerals. While they're supposed to be dead, they're really just lying low for a while. Later on, they set up a new identity and go back into the world. The British queen of today used to be Queen Victoria.”

“That's creepy. Are these Nephilim always bad people?”

“Most serial killers and career criminals are Nephilim. Most terrorists and radicals, too. Wherever there's money or power, Nephilim act like pigs at a trough. Watch out for anyone who just shows up with a lot of inherited money. They're probably Nephilim.”

“I guess a person wouldn't want to run into that kind.”

“You've already met hundreds or thousands. The music industry is full of them.”

Holly blinked. “No wonder show people seem so crazy! But it's unbelievable.”

“It's real. I could tell you plenty more, but why keep you awake at night?”

“If all that's possible, what should we do?”

“Normally I'd say we should get out of town, but something tells me that we should hear them out.”

“That's scary, especially if one of them isn't human.”

“I wish I could say that it'd be perfectly safe, but I can't,” said Jezebel.

Holly nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, Jill. If these Neph-guys are all over the place, meeting one more shouldn't be the end of the world.”

“Not yet anyway. We should go in separately. I'll enter the restaurant first, and you should follow a couple minutes later. I don't want you to be left alone for very long.”

The Watcher took a few bills from her wallet. “Buy something to eat or drink. You're an actress. Try to act like an ordinary customer. Don't look around too much. I'll be be
close by, watching out for Nephilim thugs. If things don't look suspicious, I'll go sit down with the couple. I don't know how long this will take. If I take off my coat, that will be your signal to come over and join us. But if I leave Culver's without taking it off, follow me outside a minute or two later.”

“Then what?”

“Beats me. If the Cabal knows we're in Omaha, we have to leave." Jezebel hoped it wouldn't come to that. To pay for food, lodgings, and gas she would probably need to steal. Committing crimes could make them fugitives from the law as well as from the Cabal.

“Do you mind if I pray for guidance and protection?” Holly asked.

Jezebel shrugged. “Yeah, sure, go for it. But make it snappy. The more time the enemy has, the more dangerous things they'll be able to do. They might have heavy backup. I only wish I could go in wearing a good disguise.”

“We still have that little red dress in the car,” Holly suggested.

“Forget it!”

 Jezebel stepped into the restaurant, still thinking about Frances. A righteous Nephilim? That idea was a tough sell. She knew that most Nephilim were born violent, and rarely possessed any sense of right and wrong. Not only Nephilim, but most Satanist children, were routinely brutalized, especially emotionally, to turn them into what humans called psychopaths. 

They had taken over the world before the Flood. Drowning was a good way to kill them, so the Father had  used a flood. But even though Noah, his wife, and his boys were of pure human stock, the Scriptures were silent about the sons' wives. Had the Father waited so long to act that no truly human women had remained alive? It had to mean something that so many of Noah's grandchildren had been Nephilim.

But, also, there had been water-breathing Nephilim, and sea creatures had not been killed by the flood. Many ocean beasts had been chosen by fallen angels for mixing. That fact hadn't bothered Jezebel before, but now she no longer thought that it had been such a good idea. These angel-mortal offspring were the strangest-looking of all the Nephilim. There had been land giants and sea giants. The latter were the basis of most legends about sea monsters. But she also knew that some of the sea-born Nephilim could shape-shift, like the selkies and kelpies. By mating with humans, strains of ocean-spawned Nephilim had been able to return to the land. 

 
Jezebel gritted her teeth. I
f she misunderstood the situation and made a mistake, she'd probably be held responsible for the consequences. To avoid blame, she intended to leave the final decision as to what to do with Holly up to Holly.
 

The Creator was always testing men and angels. Was this another test? Was the Father creating a situation so confusing that Jezebel would have to humble herself and ask for discernment? Well, that wouldn't happen. Only the weak asked for help. If she couldn't respect the weak herself, how could the Father?

 
                                                                            #

Decorated mostly blue and white, Culver's large windows made
the interior feel airy. The noonday crowd hadn't descended as yet, so empty sections still remained. None of the staff or customers seemed to be glowing violet, and that was reassuring. Just then, she saw Holly enter. The girl took a quick glance around and went to the serving counter.

Jezebel turned toward the nearby window and peered outside. Not seeing any Nephilim, she checked her watch. It had been twenty minutes since she'd left apartment 432. The angel wondered whether the couple was going to be punctual.

They were.

The Watcher let the pair pass while she kept out of sight. For a moment, Jezebel stood on watch, but observed no
characters with bad auras following Orson and Frances. Game to take a risk, she joined the waiting line behind the enigmatic couple.

Orson looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, there you are,” he whispered. The blonde nodded in silence.

The three advanced through the queue and placed their orders. Jezebel had eaten at the apartment and so asked for no more than fries and a soft drink. Garland and his false sister made selections from the breakfast menu. When the food came up, the pair carried their portions into an unoccupied area. The angel looked around again for threats and then joined them.

Frances had taken the chair that Jezebel wanted. “Go to the other side, queeny,” the angel said. “I want to see who comes in through the door.” Frances complied with a look of annoyance and Jezebel appropriated her seat.

The pair just sat there, apparently waiting for her to say something.

Jezebel took a deep breath and asked, “So, if I were the girl you that came here to help, where would we go from here?”

Orson appeared to be brimming with that annoying earnestness of his. “Until you feel able to make plans of your own, Frances has agreed to share her apartment in Jasper.”

“Jasper?”

“It's a town in the Ozarks. My church is there.”

“It sounds dull.”

The man gave a smile. “Dull can be another word for peaceful, I like to say.”

“Well, it sure does sound peaceful. What's its other charms?”

“We have 466 citizens at last census, and it's the courthouse for Newton County. You needn't live there long-term, but it might be a good idea to close in for a while. Frances and I will be on hand to help you get oriented and settled down.”

“Okay, say I settle into this thriving town of Jasper. What then?”

“You'll probably want to find work. There aren't many jobs nearby, but there's usually openings in Branson. That's across the line into Missouri, about fifty miles away. A lot of Jasper people work over there, so we'll be able to find you a commuter to ride with. That should be good until you get a car of your own.”

While Reverend Garland was speaking, Jezebel had been studying Frances. “Do you work in Branson, too?”

“No,” she said. “I teach at Kingston School. Elementary.”

“Then I hope you're a vegetarian.” She unsubtlely eyed the sausage on the woman's plastic plate. “Oh, I guess not.”

The young woman's glance became a glare.

Jezebel's was deliberately riling her. If she could make the hybrid mad enough, the girl might give something away, something that didn't jive with their cover story."

"Are you always so rude?" Frances asked.

"Usually."

The Watcher considered the nearness of Jasper to Branson. Being close to a teeming tourist-trap could pose a risk. Branson was a show-business town and Holly – Pelosia – might be tempted to repeat old habits. The entertainment industry drew Cabalists in like dung flies. The girl needed to shun the public eye.

“Jasper may be workable,” she said offhandedly. “But what made the pair of start hiding fugitives? I've told you that the Cabal is involved, and that make it dangerous.”

Reverend Garland met her challenging glance. “When the Lord asks something of a person, He always has a good reason.”

“Do you hide a lot of people on the run?”

“No, Frances was my first.”

Jezebel shifted toward the blonde. “How you fit into all this, Highness? Are you really Princess Di?”

The woman scowled. “Don't speak that name. I'm Frances Dillon.” She was using her Arkansas accent again.

“What in hell is British royalty doing in Arkansas? Are you hiding, too?”

Frances' expression changed. “Yes. I'm hiding from my own family,
especially. They murdered my uncle, because he became too outspoken about Agenda 21."

“Agenda 21? I've heard about it,” said Jezebel. It was the code name for the Cabalist plan to kill seven billion people and enslave the survivors. It was all over the internet.

Frances was still speaking. “At the very least, I'd be kept under house arrest for years, until I managed to make them trust me again. I can't let that happen. They can twist a person's mind in a hundred different ways.

 
“The Cabal went through a lot of work to make the world think that the Princess of Wales was dead,” the angel reminded Frances. “Who was in that car wreck anyway?”

The British girl seemed to struggle with herself before she answered. “A look-alike. I had more than one. This lady didn't happen to be a clone. She had a soul. She was working
to earn an MBA. We talked sometimes. When she took my place that day, she didn't know...what was planned. But I did and I didn't warn her. That's who I was. I was even willing to let friends die.” She stopped for a moment, then forced herself to finish. “It made me realize that I’d let my handlers get into my mind. That wasn't the kind of person that I wanted to be, but if I didn't do what I was told, what happened to Uncle James could happen to me.” She glanced away.

“So you're claiming to be from a high-ranking Cabalist family?” Jezebel asked.

Frances shook her head. “I've said too much.”

She looked fiercely at Orson. “Who is this person? Why should we trust her with our secrets?”

The clergyman seemed unsure.

The Watcher spoke up. “My license says I'm Jill – and you don't need to know my last name. I was sent by God. That's all you need to know, isn't it?”

Frances scowled. “Who really sent you? You have killer eyes. I know what killer eyes look like.”

Jezebel showed a bitter grin. “How you talk. I haven't offed anyone since early Friday. And they were only a pair of ghuls.” Then she shrugged. “Well, maybe killed a security guard, too. I just left him lying and didn't bother to check.”

Orson looked amazed. “I trust you're joking, Miss...Jill.”

She pointed at his chest. “Hey, do you think that the guy upstairs likes Cabalist flunkies?”

The clergyman turned his gaze skyward. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “The Lord tells me that you mean exactly what you say, and He also affirms that you are, indeed, serving Him.”

“That should make you feel better,” said Jezebel. “Did he mention whether I'm doing a good job?”

When words failed Orson, the angel gave sudden vent. “Why is it that the Father – or the Son – talks to you so easily, but never to me?”

“I can't say,” the reverend replied.

Next to him, Frances was shaking her head. “This might be a bad idea, Orson. We should go.”

The minister seemed less certain. “The Lord gave me a name. He spoke the name Sampson as if it should reassure me. Does that name mean anything to you...Jill?”

She shrugged. “Never met the gentleman. I heard plenty about him, though.”

Orson regarded Frances. “Sampson killed thousands, but only those who had earned God's wrath.” To Jezebel he said, “Is it also your mission to protect the righteous, Miss Jill?”

Jezebel's eyes narrowed. “Lately. I've been told that if I don't happen to like a person's aura I can I can do what comes naturally. That part of my job suits me.”

“I'm not sure this person is safe to be around,” the British princess counseled her companion.

“Believe me, lady, I'm not.”

Jezebel decided to up the ante. “Listen. I'm not the person who needs protection. That's someone else, but I'm not going to turn her over to just anyone. Orson, here, is pretty convincing," she said to Frances. "But you don't fit in. Nephilim are nothing but trouble. I'd rather bet on an inside straight than buy into the idea that you've found God. The
Sorwins are Reptilian Nephilim, and royal reptilians only marry other Reptilians. Your species considers human flesh a delicacy, especially children's flesh. I'm not running a meat wagon to deliver your next lunch.”

Frances flushed. “I'm not a Reptilian. I despise every wesen species, but I hate that kind most of all!”

Jezebel studied her hard expression, and then grinned lopsidedly. “Nice attitude. But maybe you're just shamming. I ought to slap you around and see if I can't make you morph. Are you betting that I can't?”

Frances, red-faced, looked askance at the reverend. The latter looked troubled, but remained calm.

“Dear one,” said Garland, “the Lord is telling me that you should tell your story honestly. It might make a difference.”

Frances seemed unsure. After a moment, she said, “I-I don't know where to begin.”

Taking a sip of orange soda, the angel leaned back in her chair and waited. She put a French fry between her lips. Nice flavor.

Frances slowly drew in closer and whispered, “The Reptilians have made themselves powerful, both socially and politically, but they are still only wesen. People call them a royal family, but my bloodline represents true Royalty. We have no animal genetics. I descend from fallen angels and the daughters of men. Jacob Rottweiler is my father, and he is the real king of this world, for now. My mother was selected from the purest Nephilim lines to be one of his mistresses. My father chose to raise me as a Royal princess.”

Jezebel knew that Jacob Rottweiler was a British baron, but also knew the wealth and power he represented. He had trillions of dollars in personal wealth, and controlled underlings who commanded hundreds of trillions. Next to him, a mere queen of Great Britain was no more than an unlovely handmaiden, a servant in the truest sense.

“I was taken from my real mother young, and had no regular contact with my father. At his behest, I was inserted into a Cabalist family called the Spinsters, one of the few great British houses that isn't Reptilian. That was the end of my happy upbringing. I missed my mother badly, but she wasn't allowed to come near me, and I couldn't visit her, either.

“Years before, Countess Spinster had faked a pregnancy overseas and returned with a daughter. The girl was in reality a kidnapped infant. They treated her like a beloved child until she was ready to go to school. Then the Cabal took her away suddenly and I was brought in to assume her identity. I shudder to think what must have become of the poor child. The Cabal worships Baal, and he demands the sacrifice of children. Every year, almost fifty million babies are sacrificed to him.

“But though I grew up in that house, I never really became a Spinster, and they didn't want me to. They were more like servants than parents,
especially since they had no parenting skills. Their real children are very troubled people and I always tried to stay away from them. The earl divorced the countess when I was eight, but kept me with him.

"He and his people reminded me every day that I was special, that I was a Rottweiler. I was told that I was being prepared for something very important. They kept me out in society, all the while making useful contacts for me. My tutors drilled me on how to be charming and persuasive, how to be at ease in public. I never felt I had a real family; I was an actress in training and my home was only a stage.

“It wasn't until my early teens that I was told what was expected of me. I had been selected from infancy to become the Princess of Wales. I was horrified. I'd been introduced to the
Sorwins before and they were frightening, loathsome. Prince Philip was the worst. He came from a Nazi family of Reptilians with SS ties, and seemed even less human than the queen.”

The angel frowned. “If this was some kind of drawn-out plot to make you queen, why were you allowed to divorce?”

Frances dried her eyes with a Culver's napkin. “The divorce was planned years in advance. Before the marriage, even. That was the day I had been dreaming of, my beautiful, wonderful divorce. It couldn't have come too soon. There was nothing between Charles and me. He wanted Camilla and only Camilla. She was a lizard like he was.”

Jezebel wasn't sure that she should believe any of this, but was willing to play along. “So what was the deception all about?”

“For centuries, the Rottweilers had been against mixing their Royal blood with that of what they considered mongrel beasts. But the
Sorwins had been successfully acquiring wealth and power, mostly through drug-running and human trafficking. My father couldn't look at money without wanting to control it himself, even if it meant sacrificing a daughter. For their part, the Sorwins wanted to introduce true royalty into their sham of a bloodline.

Half my job was accomplished once I'd given those monsters an heir and a spare. That part was absolutely degrading, but I'm even more sorry for what they made me do afterwards. I can't believe that God can ever forgive me."

She choked. This confession was either hard for her, or else she was doing a good job of making it appear so. After all, she had already confessed to having been trained from childhood to be an actress.

Orson Garland touched her hand. “Dear Frances, I have told you so many times: Your repentance is true; I know it is, and you know it, too. You have been long since forgiven
by the only One who matters. There will be no damnation for you, no Lake of Fire. Have faith.”

The girl nodded, trying to make herself believe.

“What was this other half of your job?” the Watcher asked.

Frances took a deep breath. “My – My task was to destroy Great Britain.”

Eyes shut, she clenched her fists upon the table and rested her forehead upon them. “And I did it,” she whispered.

TO BE CONTINUED Chapter 8, Part 1


The Falling Star: Chapter 8, Part 2


Posted 02-07-21

Revised 02-09-21





An Angel from Hell story

By Christopher Leeson


Chapter 8, Part 2



After that, Watcher had no place to go except home. But this apartment building was no real home for her. It felt like it was just another place of exile; it was like floating into a void. From the moment she stepped inside, she had registered an emotion, and not a pleasant one. Whatever was plaguing the mortal nervous system that had enveloped her, it was not anything that an angel should be suffering from. In the In-Between Place, she hadn’t felt anything like it, so why now? She searched the back of her mind, wondering whether Jill Arendel knew what this feeling should be called. She did. Its name was loneliness.
 

Jezebel dropped what little she had been carrying onto the seat of a chair, and then the girl drifted to the window. She could see that there was only meaningless activity going on below. So many people, so many useless lives. Why did they exist at all? To eat? They reminded her of ants. Remembering that she was imprisoned in a body like theirs, experiencing feelings like theirs, made her feel unclean.

When she left the window, Jezebel preferred not to think about the world outside. It wasn’t part of who she really was, and she didn’t want it to be. She spread out at full-length on the couch, and then did nothing at all, except to stare at the ceiling. Without intending to, she dropped off to sleep. By the time the Watcher awoke, the winter’s daylight had ebbed away. Getting up to turn on the lights seemed like to much effort to do.

“I thought you could use some company,” said a woman's voice.

The Watcher's reaction was to throw herself into a roll across the carpet and come up to her knees clutching a makeshift weapon, a glass pop bottle. Then she recognized Shekinah and felt foolish.

“What are you doing here?” the blonde asked, rising gracelessly.

“My duty. And my duty, if you care to ask, is to look after you.”

The room was dark but, even so, the angel was easy to see. A light from some undefined source was falling on her. Jezebel had seen, and used, that trick a million times.

“Haven’t you anything better to do than spy on me? Why should the chief of the Seraphim be carrying on like a guardian angel? Is it a demotion? That’s something I definitely want to hear about!”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you. The Father gave me this assignment because he rates it an important one,” said Shekinah. “Isn't it logical that he would choose me to carry it out? If you recall, it's not the first time that I've sought to win forgiveness for fallen angels.”

“Did he actually say that that's was your job?”

“No. I just assume it.”

Jezebel made a sour face. “I’ve assumed a few things, too, and look how far it's gotten me. Does it ever make you angry that the Father refuses to explain things clearly?”

“No. I’ve learned humility.”

“You used to be a human. If you ask me, that gives you plenty to be humble about.”

The Watcher sidled over to into Jill Arendel’s easy chair and dropped into it. “Have you come with another mission for me? What's next? Getting a cat out of a tree? That would make as much sense as the silly trip that I've just finished.”

“Your mission wasn't pointless,” said the angel in white. “It delivered Susan Wevers out of the hands of evil, and it’s rebounded very well upon you, too. The admitted simplicity of the assignment was intended to give you sufficient leisure to take stock and get oriented.”

“Get oriented to what?” Jezebel asked.

“To having a human heart.”

She didn't like to be reminded about any of her human parts. “You bitch!” she burst out. “You let me be raped!”

“Was that my fault? Did you ever appeal to the Father or the Son for mercy?"

Jezebel glowered. “I deal with my own problems. Now why are you here, just when I don’t need you? After all, no one is trying to kill me at the moment.”

“I've been at your side continually since we last spoke. I gave you the address that let you know where you should take Miss Wevers. And I also gifted you a hundred dollars when you needed it. But this evening I've come by to commend you on an assignment well carried out.”

“A commendation? I'm sure the Father has seen all the sinning I had to do to bring it off.”

Shekinah nodded. “You certainly sinned more than necessary. Truly, if you were still an angel, you would now be in irreparable trouble. But because you're human, your sins can be forgiven. The problem is, you cannot be forgiven unless you petition your Lord for such an act of grace.”

"Whatever," she said with a toss of her hands.

“Why are you behaving this way?”

“What way?"

“After waiting five thousand years of knowing yourself doomed, shouldn't you be leaping at the chance to ask to have your sins forgiven?”

“The Father is asking me to grovel, and I resent that idea!”

“It always comes down to pride with you fallen angels,” asked Shekinah, “doesn’t it?

“Drop it! If I'd ever thought about cooperation, that thought went away when I was dumped into this contemptible life of Jill Arendel.”

“What is so
contemptible about the life of Jill Arendel? It gives you presentablility and a career that allows you to travel about very freely without arousing suspicion. Also, as a beautiful woman, you will be welcomed into strategic places that might otherwise have been closed to you. As I see it, the guise of Miss Arendel shall suit your work requirements very well."

“I don’t care about the work. It’s just a means to an end,” said Jezebel.

“It can be so much more.”

“Spare me. Without respect, I reject.”

“You know many things that makes you a good agent,
said Shekinah. "But there is a difference between knowledge and wisdom. You have considerable room for growth in the wisdom category.”

“Did Jill get so wise from living this life?” Jezebel asked.

“Tragically, no. But you’re coming into her life with new perspectives.”

“Here’s a perspective I don’t have. How am I supposed to avoid sin if I have to go around as an erotic dancer with a Jezebel spirit urging me to do stupid things?”

Shekinah's expression became more serious. “You were doing stupid things even before you had such a spirit. And why do you pretend to abhor sinning today while you are stubbornly refusing to rid yourself of the ancient sin that holds you at the edge of doom?”

The Watcher was staring down at the carpet. "I don't feel like entertaining company right now, Shekinah.”

“No? I could feel your pain from the other side of this planet, much less from across the room.”

“Just go."

“May I ask a few questions first?”

“What?!” asked Jezebel testily.

“For one thing, I’d like to ask whether you are missing the companionship of Miss Wevers.”

"Missing her? She means nothing to me. It was ridiculous being forced to be her babysitter.”

“Didn't you like her at all? Didn’t I hear you promise to kill anyone who harms her?”

Jezebel stood up, but turned her back on the angel. “I was only warning those two Bible-thumpers that they had better not be playing me for a fool. The girl herself was unimportant.”

Shekinah smiled. “I hope that's not true. She was good for you, and you were good for her.”

The Watcher turned, ready with a good rebuke, but was surprised to see that Shekinah was now wearing an entirely new garment -- a brightly-colored club dress replete with accessories.

“What do you have on?"


“My present apparel has to do with my next question,” replied Shekinah.

“What question? A request for a dance?”

She laughed. "It’s not as simple as that. I would like to invite you out for a dinner and a show.”

"That sounds like such a repulsively human things to ask."

"Well, I used to be human, and you are presently one."

Jezebel raised her chin. “Why go to dinner? You don't need to eat.”

“No, but you do.”

“Why should you care? You're not my friend.”

“I'm not your enemy either. I’m your guide. I'm your conduit to the Father. Why are you so resentful of me? I earnestly did all I could to win redemption for all of you Watchers years ago. I would still like to help you redeem yourself in the present day.”

“Why? To put another feather in your cap?”

“No, this is all about you, not me,” Shekinah said. “A few days ago, I doubted that you could be saved. I even feared that you would kill Miss Wevers yourself, in some moment of pointless pique. Instead, you were faithfully protective and, at times, almost kind. The outcome of your mission came as such a surprise that I’m now ready to believe
almost anything. You may indeed be the best of a very bad lot.”

Jezebel said through a twisted grin. “Don't you mean a very, very bad lot?”

The angel laughed again. “There you see? I've already started thinking better about you Watchers. Now, about the invitation....”

“What’s the show?”

“It’s a performance of Bell, Book, and Candle,” said Shekinah, “about a witch who is redeemed by love. You will need to dress for the venue, of course. But Jill Arendel’s closet contains some very excellent items for club wear.”

“Yes, you'd know what's in her closet. You’re the one who stuffed that nasty little red number into my luggage, aren’t you?”

“Guilty. I anticipated that you might wish to recharge your sin-power at some point. Obviously, a dress of that type would be an excellent facilitator.”

"Why am I being tempted to sin?" the Watcher asked.

"You will be sinning anyway. It's your nature. But while you are doing so, you can also be advancing the will of the Father. Remember, what the enemy intends for evil, the Father will use for good."

This put Jezebel into a mood to vent, to throw her unwanted visitor out, but she held back. A seasoned warrior had to be on guard against insubordination and the penalties it could bring. There was a hierarchy in Heaven and it was only sensible to respect it. She could get nothing from Hell, but Heaven still held out some possibilities. Besides, did she really want to be left alone right now, with nothing to do, with no one for company, with nowhere to go?

“Well, I am hungry. It'll take me a little while to change,” Jezebel finally said.

Shekinah smiled again. “Yes, I expect so.”


END


Wednesday, January 13, 2021

Busted: A Tale of Zhor in Rhyme: Part 18 - Finale

 

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON
 

Posted Jan. 13, 2021

 

 

There’s not too much more to be told,

Lu’s been many times bought and sold.

Good masters she’s had,

Though most have been bad,

And they’ve all kept her hooking for gold.


At first selling sex wasn’t fun;

Lu did it ‘cause she couldn’t run.

She faces the street,

All shapely and sweet,

And works hard until till each day is done.


One thing about Zhor gives her cheer;

They have a great youth potion here.

She’s as hot as can be,

Though now ninety-three,

And well worth a glance or a leer.


Lu's an alcove girl who's on a roll,

'Bout thirty men daily she’ll brol.

Though she gets the pleasure,

Her man keeps the treasure,

And that’s because he’s in control.


Ignited girls learn sex is fun;

Lu sells it and she sells a ton.

She works nearly nude,

'Long lanes mean and rude,

From morning till the day is done.


Her garment is just an arcoy;

'Twill catch the eye of any boy.

It’s skimpy, it’s small,

Almost nothing at all,

And gives her no need to be coy.


Lu’s right for this life and that’s so;

She’s always been hard, we all know.

On Zhor for this long,

Her memories aren’t strong;

Lou’s just a dream long ago.


She has a few friends and some smiles;

Remember, all lives have their trials.

If her job isn’t great,

Them’s the breaks, it’s just fate;

A smart girl makes good with her wiles.


We can wrap up Lu’s story now fast,

Since what’s left to tell isn’t vast.

When Lulu goes slumming,

Her business is humming,

And each day’s as good as the last.


End

 

Saturday, December 12, 2020

Busted: A Tale of Zhor in Rhyme: Part 17

 

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON
 
Posted Dec. 11, 2020

 

 

An orgasm took her, and how!

Every nerve in Lu's body cried, “Wow!”

She couldn’t stop coming,

Her whole soul was humming.

The guy really knew how to plow!


From pleasure she near lost her mind,

This sex was a mind-blowing kind.

The trip, the best ever,

She hoped ‘twould end never.

Oh how her hips ‘gainst his hips did grind.


Lu hardly could breathe; she was gasping.

Her moans of lust rose raw and rasping.

With balm she was filling

Each burst felt more thrilling.

She liked that Tip's his vigor was lasting.


Her climaxes numbered a score;

She’d never banged like this before.

Her mind was a whirl

Having fun as a girl,

Like wanton young Helen of yore.

 

Lu groaned when her slave-master quit;

It made her so mad she could spit.

Her blood felt on fire!

How dare the rogue tire!

She hadn’t grown sated one wit.


Her lord, who had risen, looked down,

He grinned, showing no trace of frown.

Lu’d lit, ‘twas so clear,

He thought with a leer,

And now he could sell her downtown.


The scoundrel told Lu she’d ignited,

And said he was wholly delighted.

Ablaze with slave fire,

She'd please any buyer,

Wild, wanton, and excited.


To be caged without sex for a day

Put Lu in an impatient way.

Bondage now thrilled her,

Sweet thoughts of it filled her.

An eager slave she would now stay.


By cart, Lu was sent to the block;

Being auctioned off brought her to shock.

She was offered up nude

To coarse rascals lewd.

These men of her beauty took stock.


One fellow pronounced the best bid

And the hammer went down when he did.

Lu’s secret heart cursed,

Expecting the worst,

As from the high deck she was led.

 

 

To Be Continued, Part in 18




Monday, November 9, 2020

Busted: A Tale of Zhor in Rhyme: Part 16

 

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON
 

Posted Nov. 9, 2020

 



Lulu, having sex every day,

Was learning the arts of love play.

This slave-maid instruction

Trained girls for seduction

In line with the Zhorian way.


While getting brolled Lu oft drew pleasure,

Too much for the love scale to measure.

With Lu in silks tiny,

Wearing beads bright and shiny,

Men fondled her just like a treasure.


But inside of Lu there burned a smolder;

Her dislike of Tip growing much colder.

She was feeling the thrust

 Of hedonist lust

'Cause she had to do all that he told her.


As Lou she'd had women in bed,

A damned randy rake, people said.

But in need Lu excelled him;

It would have repelled him.

The disgrace of it made her see red.


She’d learned there were forest girl bands

That that roamed the remote, wooded lands.

They’d all run aground

To safe corners they’d found,

To live free from collars and brands.


Could this be a thing she could do?

This prospect Lu had to think through.

Though she liked being laid,

She despised the drug vaid

That made her a tame, docile ewe.


With Lu, though, the hour was late

For rendezvous with the god Fate.

Though Tip didn’t tell her,

He was ready to sell her.

She almost was in the right state.


He cunningly gave her more vaid,

Then pumped her on sheets of brocade.

With manly lust blazing,

His brol was amazing.

Lu’s bod was a harp that he played.


Lu never had heard of "slave fire,"

Or why its effects could be dire.

As Tip deigned to do her

A hot surge rushed through her.

She’d never had sex like this prior.

 

To Be Continued in Part 17

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Busted: A Tale of Zhor in Rhyme: Part 15

 

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON
 

Posted Oct. 7, 2020

 

 

Tip could made stubborn slaves meek;

He sex-changed men almost each week.

'Twas the best of his joys,

Ruk-altering boys,

Making them curvy and sleek.


Though Lulu before had the change,

Her attitude he’d rearrange.

Her pride he did strip

With a brand on her hip,

The collar he placed felt quite strange.


By those markings he’d made her a slave,

But she needed to learn to behave.

To sex he’d addict her,

With chasteness afflict her,

Until a surrender she gave.


A plant juice on Zhor was called vaid;

It made cold girls yearn to get laid.

When on food Lu did dine

Tip put vaid in her wine,

To make her a bold, randy maid.


She blazed hot but Tip did deny her;

He could do so since he was her sire.

Having sex was to "brol;"

Lulu lost control;

Her loins were aflame with love fire.


Till the potion wore off she slept not;

Erotic dreams all night she got.

At new light Lulu was served

All the vaid she deserved.

It reheated her blood quite a lot.


Aft several days Lulu was pleading

And Tip knew that he was succeeding.

She was half-mad with lust,

To have sex she must;

Fierce love-play was what she was needing.


"If you heed me, tonight you’ll get brolled,"

Was what the pert slave maid was told.

So she scrubbed and she cleaned,

Polished floors to a sheen,

And at darkness went back to him bold.


So Tip called a youth from his staff,

Saying, “Brol this slave well, fore and aft.”

With Lulu in his sight,

The lad’s eyes gleamed bright.

He almost burst out with a laugh.


To Be Continued in Part 16
















Monday, September 7, 2020

Busted: A Tale of Zhor in Rhyme: Part 14

 

BY CHRISTOPHER LEESON
 

Posted Sep. 7, 2020 

Revised Oct. 7, 2020


Lulu asked Tip about Zhor;

She'd never heard that name before.

"It's my planet," he stated.

For a fresh start you're fated.

"Twill be your new home evermore.”

 

Tip said that his race came to earth,

To rob and raid all they're worth.

His best kinds of prize

Were maids with bright eyes,

Both wantons and girls inexpert.

 

Tip spoke of the serum of Ruk,

How men became girls through bad luck.

Very hot, a Ruk harlot,

Eyes kohled and lips scarlet,

Was trained how to brol and to suck.


Lulu, aghast, became livid,

The rose in her cheeks growing vivid.

"You can keep your mad Zhor!

"Better dead than a whore!"

Lu's eyes blazed as hot as a rivet.


Tip vowed that he'd put her on sale,

An act of profit for a male.

"I'll treat you like gold

"Till the day that you're sold.

"Men oft bid high for good tail.”

 

The ex-cop then delivered a sock,

But Tip’s jaw felt as hard as a rock.

He laughed as he seized her,

Kissed her and squeezed her,

Making Lu breathless with shock.

 

Lulu's black briefs he ripped off

And make her more easy to boff.

Tip threw her in bed,

Got her lovely legs spread,

And stroked her fine flesh, smooth and soft.


For as long as a week and a day,

Tip taught Lu to do things his way.

Using sex, how he hazed her,

His vigor amazed her.

She grew overwhelmed by love-play.

 

Tip took his craft back to Zhor,

Which looked like a land out of lore.

It could well have been Rome

When Caesars called it home.

She saw no space ships anymore.

 


 TO BE CONTINUED in Part 15