View allAll Photos Tagged STORIES
Churches are renouned for pictoral carvings depicting stories from the old or new testiments. prio to a hundred years les speople where literate and could read the stories for themselves.
2016 02 18 161030 Worcestershire Worcester Cathedral PM1
i used the latest Beyond Layer's texture (plaster squared) on this... at multiply twice....
story themed for this week's TT.....
:)
happy saturday.... xo
Composite of Moon and Story Bridge in Brisbane. Obviously not real but enjoyed messing around with it.
Because I host basic photography lessons and run a small business on the side, I am often asked if I am a professional photographer. To this I must honestly say "no" since I do not make my living through photography. At best, I am a serious hobbyist, who makes a few bucks on the side. But, I am a storyteller, and that to me is what is important in photography. Sometimes, I weave wild fantasies with crazy colors and otherworldly composites. Other times, I tell dramatic tales, or even documentaries in simple black and white. I have met some photographers who ridicule those who use photoshop or other editing tools as not "pure" photographers. I have also met photographers who believe that anyone who does not embrace the newest methods and technologies as troglodytes. To this I say that neither is correct. Use whatever method allows you to tell the story that you want to tell. You don't have to stick to one style. Steven King is best known for his horror writing prowess in stories like IT and Christine, but he also wrote compelling dramas such as Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile, and Stand By Me. Just as people enjoy watching different types of movies, reading different genres of books, and listening to different styles of music, it's okay for a photographer to enjoy making different types of visual art. So feel free to express yourself however you feel, and don't allow yourself to be placed in any "box" that you don't want to be cornered in.
Altamont, 10 stories of massive brick and limestone, overwhelmed its predecessors. The $1 million structure was part of a two-decade trend of spectacular hotels that opened throughout the region, including Wilkes-Barre’s Hotel Sterling (1898), Scranton’s Hotel Casey (1909), Tamaqua’s Majestic Hotel (1924) and Pottsville’s Necho Allen (1927). In terms of elegance and accessibility, the Altamont beat its downtown competitors, located just over a block from the Lehigh Valley Railroad Station and along a highway that ended at Philadelphia’s footsteps.
The Altamont was a tribute to Thomas’ modern convictions. The shining red edifice commanded its street corner, confidently standing above church steeples and Victorian storefronts. Guests could access the hotel at its formal entrance on Broad Street or its arguably more expansive opening on North Church Street. Iron marquees extended over the building’s sidewalks, protecting guests from Hazleton’s typically unpredictable weather.
I am sooooo happy for you two!!
It's been ages since my last update. Hello again my friends.
edit: Alternative shot uploaded here: blog.suguru.net/2011/02/lakeside-story-ii.html
In a street side tea stall, there always full of gathering is present and mixed up of different kind of brainchild story or pnpc like that. The frame was caught when the tea seller served his customer with tea at that moment the candid is taken.
rokjesdag is the Dutch name, introduced by the late author of short stories Bril. He could capture a situation so well in words. And skirts day is the first day in spring with weather so nice that you can sit outside with a drink, and you see all the beautiful girls have decided that day to go out in a skirt.
This year is a bit strange because we had such a day a month ago when it should be winter still. Today it really is spring and it is a skirts day. So I decided to upload a skirt picture to celebrate :)
I chose a cougar print with a hint of my cougar bra peeking out of my camisole and cyan top. Wearing fishnet seamed stockings in sandals dreaming of the spring breeze around my legs. Oh the spring breeze, and sun, so vitalizing!
Shot on film. Pondicherry, South India 2002.
*I keep thinking about the tsunami in 2004, and all the casualties. All of my photos from Tamil Nadu and Pondicherry are from before the tragic event. I can suddenly get tears in my eyes when I look at a photo of a smiling kid that perhaps might never smile again. Then I shake it away, and say: I`m sure he/she is okay!
At the same time it is maybe a wrong personal reflection. I look at a few images of some people I met along the eastern coast, but at the same time it is a true fact that thousands died there, and many many more in other countries.
I will make a warm wish for all the souls that were washed away that day, and send my most honest sympathy for the relatives and friends that lost someone dear.
I also truly hope this fisherman is all right!
A proud man, with a gaze stronger than any tsunami and some extraordinary hands that shows a long hard life of ocean-work.
Copyright © Ioannis Lelakis.
All rights reserved.
*(words previously posted with an older upload of the same man)
This was one of my favorite shots of all 2018. Wasn't on Flickr back then so it only got posted to FB. But wanted to add it here. This is the caption that accompanied it then:
Time for a story. So, as a railfan and photographer we all have those places we have to see and shoot once in our lives. Those "bucket list" spots that are Meccas for those of us who love the history and drama of railroading. There are the standard places that most everyone wants to visit (your Horseshoe Curves and your Tehachapis) and some maybe more regional or personal in nature.
Somewhere between those two rates Hoosac Tunnel. It is unquestionably the railroad engineering marvel of New England railroading and one of the most daunting construction enterprises of the 19th century. Construction on the 4.75 mile long bore through the Berkshires began in 1851 and the first train didn't last through until February 9, 1875. Four four decades the tunnel ranked as the longest in North America.
The tunnel served the Fitchburg Railroad and Boston and Maine for most of its life and is still owned by the B&M's direct corporate successor Pan Am railways. Well, technically now it belongs to Pan Am Southern, the joint partnership of NS and PAR that extends NS' east coast network into the New England region.
Coupled with that historical significance is the solitude and beauty of this part of Western Massachusetts along the wild and beautiful Deerfield River.
Anyway, needless to say this is a special place, even more so for a railfan raised in New England. But, I'm 41 years old and had never shot a train exiting either end of the Hoosac. I've missed a couple and have seen a half dozen enter, but never gotten the signature shot coming out.
So yesterday Thursday August 16, 2018 I had information that Pan Am's pretty little three car business train was in North Adams, MA with a planned 0700 on duty to run all the way east to Ayer and then down to Worcester. So, I just knew I had to give it a shot.
I worked Wednesday night into Thu morning at BET (Boston Engine Terminal) the modern Keolis/MBTA incarnation of the B&M's namesake hub. Normally I don't get off work until 0630, but calculated if I left by 0430 I could make the 130 mile trip in time. I also asked if I could take Thu night off knowing that it would be awake 26 hrs before I got home from this adventure!
The railroad being what it is (f---ed up like normal!) I want able to get my turnover done and leave until 0450. Luckily traffic on Rt 2 was light and I headed west. I so needed a coffee to keep me up and thought about stopping at a Dunkin for a quick cup for the road, but then the voices of Frank Keller and John Tarble came in my head and I knew that I would hate myself if I missed it by minutes just for a coffee. So I fought back my inclination and drove non stop.
Well as I pulled across the crossing in Florida, MA and parked my truck at 0720 I saw one fan their with a camera in hand and knew I'd made it. As I looked toward the bore this is what I saw.
Yes, it was actually this close. I raced 130 miles from Boston, almost the entire length of the the old Fitchburg Railroad across the Commonwealth and made it with literally three minutes to spare. At 0723 they exited the tunnel and after 41 years on earth I had my shot and the chase was on!
To see that photo you're gonna have to check back in a bit. Right now I'm heading out for a cup of coffee! ;)
Florida, Massachusetts
Thursday August 16, 2018
"Yes, he was here. He played for the table stakes of 100k, winner take all. He did not take all."
"Where did he go after that?"
"He was light, something was said about him working it off."
In August 2002 Green-Wood Historic Fund rededicated New York City's Civil War Soldier's Monument after a year of restoration. The monument originally dedicated in 1876 is on top of Battle Hill. Green-Wood also started a project to identify all the Civil War veterans buried in the cemetery. They had thought there were about 500 veterans buried in Green-Wood but in the end about 5,000 were identified.
2015 marks the 150th Anniversary of the end of the American Civil War in April, 1865.
Currently there is a small but wonderful exhibition "To Bid You All Good Bye: Civil War Stories" in the Green-Wood Cemetery Historic Chapel based on the research and highlights a few of the many stories of the men and women buried in the cemetery.
Pictured here are the original sculptures from the 1876 monument - the model for the Calvary officer was George Armstrong Custer of the Battle of Little Big Horn fame. The smaller pieces are by American sculptor John Rodgers and depict scenes relating to the Civil War time period
Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) with goslings. This scene reminds me of young children gathering around their parent for story time.
Photographed in Elk Island National Park in late May.
---------------------
Thank you all for your visits, comments, faves, invitations and Explore.
IMG66463
5yo Zeuss at our Pet Portrait's w/ teh World Famous Animal Network Pumpkin & Fiends Spooktacular last weekend...
Adopt Him Here Today:
www.petfinder.com/dog/zeus-drake-29558076/nv/las-vegas/an...
Strobist:
Flashpoint Explore 600 Pro in Neewer Octobox CL
2 430EXII Speedlight bare Over for highlights
Flashpoint Evolve 200 CR w Umbrella
Flashpoint Evolve 200 w grid on Axis for xrtra fill goodness
Fired w/ Flashpoint R2 PRO 2.4GHz Transmitter
BTS in Comments:
齐豫 Chyi - stories
www.youtube.com/watch?v=udLwnJI6a98&feature=youtube_g...
I remember quite clearly now when this story happened
The autumn leaves were floating and measured down to the ground
Recovering the lake where we used to swim like children
On the sun would dare to shine
That time we used to be happy But， I thought we were...
But the truth was that - you had been longing to leave me
Not daring to tell me
On that precious night watching the lake vaguely conscious
You said : our story was ending
Now I´m standing here no one to wipe away my tears
No one to keep me warm and no one to walk along with
No one to make me feel no one to make me hope
Oh ! what am I to do ?
I´m standing here alone
it doesn´t seem so clear to me
What am I supposed to do about this burning heart of mine
Oh what am I to do，
Or how should I react ?
oh tell me please !
The rain was killing the last days of summer
You had been killing my last breath of love
Since a long time ago..I still don´t think I´m gonna make it through another love story
You took it all away from me
And there I stand ， I knew I was gonna be the...
The one left behind
But still I´m watching the lake vaguely conscious
And I know - my life is ending
Owen doesn't have his own bed yet, so Meggie let him lie down in hers while she read him a bedtime story.
Ned Mansour - Beautifoto Model
The story below has it threads from a daydream I had on our way home to wales, two days after our family attended a formal do in Scotland.
My twin brother and I were just 16.
Mum had me dressed up in a brown satin gown that mimicked her green one.
I was wearing rhinestone jewellery.
Mum was wearing her expensive diamond earrings, which I alone felt received far too much attention from strangers. Or was I just jealous?
Then I had the unsettling experience of my fancy rhinestone bracelet vanishing from my wrist under, what I alone had felt, were suspicious circumstances.
But thoughts like that are what goes with the territory of the pickpocketing games my twin brother and I like to role-play at home.
Though my bracelet was found and returned the next day, the events at the posh dance in Scotland, added with the vivid circumstances of what I dreamed that evening the night I lost it, along with my speculation over what caused my bracelet’s loss, remained firmly entrenched in my imagination.
And yes, at the dance, there was one sly-eyed lady who attached herself to our family. A far too slick talking stranger who I felt uneasy around and did not trust from the getgo.
So, with all that said:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Dirty Rotten Scoundrel
(I preyed till the end)
A female pickpockets perspective
I do love a good, ultra-posh gathering, especially when I’m not invited and have to crash it.
This evening I was able to slip in with a group of chirpy young ladies.
Easily entering the establishment and orchestrating an even easier bumping lift of a fat leather wallet from the dangling purse carried by one of the taffeta-gowned ladies in my surrogate group.
It all give me a tingly feeling of good things to come as I went to the lady’s washroom just off a hall by the main exit.
There, in a stall, I emptied the wallet of notes, £200, and discarded it under a linen-covered table piled high with small towels on my way out.
I left the powder room, now hungrily on the prowl as I explored my new patch.
I meandered around. Admiring, to myself, the glamorous gowns, dresses, and delicious jewels the ladies were wearing.
Gleamingly smooth pearls, glittery diamonds, and stunning pieces set with every colour of gemstones imaginable.
All are displayed in abundance along mouth-wateringly well-fitted velvet, satin, taffeta, and other sleek backdrops of an expensive ladies' attire.
My eyes also eagerly took in the plump bulges of pockets holding thicke wallets and shiny gold and silver watches being worn by the regulation-required tuxedo-clad males who accompanied some of the ladies.
Myself? I was dressed in a tight-fitted, soft velvet frock, perfect for squirming in close and also carrying a shoulder purse. Not too large, I needed to fit in with the primarily clutch purse-carrying ladies. Which, aside from wearing only 1/4 carat stud diamonds in my ears, I somewhat did.
It was a most titillating experience, moving in and out of the crowded main room, casually looking over the well-dressed guests. Hunting for an opportunity.
Which I soon found, an early twenties male, succulent in a black tux and hand-tied bow tie sporting a gold watch chain around his waist. Along with the noticeable bulge( no not that kind) of a thicke note-filled wallet in his jacket pocket.
I walked by, gathering his attention. His eyes followed and I stopped and pulled a cigarette and round lighter from my purse.
I carry two lighters a square one I use privately, and a round one that has no fuel.
I unsuccessfully tried to light my cigarette.
Soon a hand was extended with a lighter. It was my mark. He lit it, and as I bent over my hand went to his chest, reached in, and nimbly lifted out his long fat wallet, deposited it in my purse, along with my lighter.
Successful pickpocketing is all based on how well one pulls off distracting your mark. The move I just pulled off by drawing away attention using an empty lighter is one I use a lot in crowded pubs. Successfully I might add, on both men and women.
I was chatting with him a bit before making an excuse and pulling away. Far too many other opportunities around to waste time chatting with a pickpocketed mark.
I again went to the powder room and inside a stall, extracted £850 from the wallet.
I heard someone come in but did not enter a stall.
After a few minutes of fumbling noises, I heard the water running and splashing.
A female voice was talking.
On silent feet, I carefully opened the stall door and slipped out. Around the corner where the sinks were located, a voluptuous lady in lavender velvet was washing her face.
She was talking to herself, thinking she was alone. She appeared to be having issues with contact lenses by the way she was damning them.
I looked around her figure. A pricey necklace glittered reflecting in the mirror.
On the side of the sink, facing me, we’re long matching lavender satin gloves.
On top of which was a shiny pile of jewels, rings, gold bracelets, and a Rolex ladies watch with diamonds circling the face.
With her eyes closed, she had turned away towards the linen-covered table and was reaching blindly for a towel.
I threw the empty wallet under the table.
As she was distracted by the noise, I reached over with my other hand and picked up the jeweled timepiece. Then I slipped out the door before she turned back to face the mirror.
I headed back out the hallway, finally letting out my breath, with the intention of getting a drink and taking a well-earned break as I decided what to do next. This patch was a gold mine, but have I had my run?
That would be a big No, to my run of luck being over….
For, as I walked out the door, I fell in step behind a pair of exceptionally well-dressed middle-aged teenagers maybe 16-year-olds, brother and sister, so possibly twins?
Both had soft red hair and adorably large hazel eyes.
The sister’s soft hair flowed silkily down back in a thin downy feathery fall to just below her shoulders. And just as her hair had an almost fluid spill, so did the ultra-soft expensive gown she wore. As I walked behind them, my mark ran her hand, ring and bracelet rippling with rich sparkles, along her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder so it was hanging down in front, exposing her neck to me.
She was deliciously sumptuous in a long flimsy thin silk gown of dark chocolate with rhinestone trimmings. The slinking gown was a wide shoulder halter top, with a slight flare at the bottom, sweeping over the top of silver sandals. I was admiring how the dress fell, gently affirming with tight lines, her youthfully graceful figure.
The tuxedo-wearing brother appears to be overly protective of his sister.
And of no surprises why…
They reached a table and he actually seated her like a real adult male.
I circled for a better look, my eyes not believing what they had glimpsed.
She was indeed wearing some pretty valuable jewellery for one of her age.
A silver, wide chocker-style necklace filled with precious diamonds blazingly encircled her neck. It was something one expected a royal to wear.
A pair of amazing chandelier-style earrings twinkled down from her ears.
A wide diamond bracelet lay elegantly around one of her heavy cream-coloured satin glove-clad wrists.
A mouthwatering ring with a large centre diamond graced her right pinkie.
She also had a brilliant eye-catching broach, small, but set with obscenely valuable diamonds, dangling provokingly between small firm breasts, set in the v of her sleek gown’s neckline.
As I had been following I was able to observe the simple clasps of both necklace and bracelet. My fingers itching the whole time.
I sat myself down at a nearby side bench along a side walkway leading to the hallway down which were the washrooms.
From my perch, I watched them, while pretending to watch the dancers on the ballroom floor across to the far side of the room. I was close enough to catch snippets of their conversation. I had a side view of the brother, a delightfully frontal view of his deliciously pretty twin sister.
I marveled over how I hadn’t been here 30 minutes and aside from already making several nice lifts, had stumbled across a wealthy young chick wearing real diamonds, playing peekaboo along her delightful figure. The whole display just cried out to a thief:
“Here I am,naïvely displaying jewels ripe for the plucking!”
I had my eye on her dazzling necklace as my preferred target. I began making a full study of it. As she was innocently sitting there chatting with her brother, I wondered if it had ever entered into her wildest dreams that the jewels she was wearing were ever at such a risk of being stolen.
Probably not, and all I had to do was watch and wait for opportunities, with which I had several methods to deal with.
One of which I made ready by reaching down and undoing my right open-toed shoe strap, then, trap set, sat back and waited, watching my chosen mark.
Oh, The right shoe strap because I am
left-handed. Now just needed my red-haired mark to use the lady’s loo.
I soon found that where I sat was indeed in a good location.
Lots of potential prospects were passing me by. But none yet had on targetable jewellery as the diamonds the sumptuously chocolate-gowned red head fetchingly wore, especially around her throat.
I kept refocussing my attention on her.
The brother was bored.
He was trying to get his sister to join in on some type of adventure. But she told him they were both too dressed up to play.
I thought to myself:
“Listen to your brother luv, It would be delicious to stumble across you pair outside, alone, looking for adventures.”
I then took my eyes off the savory diamonds around the young girl’s throat, because an older red-headed version of the girl had joined them.
Their mum I correctly surmised. Watching her son help seat her. Wish it was me seating her as I would use that opportunity to lift valuables from her fine figure.
The mother was elegantly dressed in a shiny green satin number. It had a knee-length skirt with quarter-length sleeves and a playfully low scooped neckline.
The dress, like her daughter’s gown, showed off every bump and curve of her still youthful figure.
And she, like her daughter, was also expensively wearing diamonds. But my lord, what a decadent collection of jewels.
A set of sparking ‘ice’ that included stunningly long diamond earrings, diamond bib style necklace, and a flashy diamond-filled bracelet. She also wore two gemmed cocktail rings on the bare fingers of her right hand. A wedding band and diamonds on her left’s ring finger. Flashing out from the V on her shiny dress was a large emerald broach, the same green color as her eyes.
And to literally top it all off, perched on her head like a crown, was set an actual dainty diamond-encrusted tiara!
Perhaps they were (very) minor royals after all?
I would have loved to see her daughter wearing a tiara also. Not sure how I would have gotten it off her head without notice. But I would have been game for a try.
The mother appeared to be alone. No husband for whatever reason seemed to be with them, judging by body language. A language I have become an expert in deciphering.
So the 16-year-old male was apparently the only security that lay between me and lifting some precious diamonds from either the females at the table with him. Though I still favored lifting jewels from the more susceptible sister sitting there dressed like a princess.
So this young watchman could probably easily be led astray long enough for me to plan out an approach.
This made things quite interesting. As I pondered over how to accomplish luring him off, I listened in some more, soon learning:
The father was not with them, I was right about that.
With the father gone their fetchingly attractive, well-dressed, very wealthy mother was open game to many interested males asking her to dance.
Hence her two kids were bored and tired of being alone so much, the fact of which appeared to go over their mum’s diamond shimmering head.
I licked my lips, it would seem that opportunity was going to be knocking at my door if only the mother would leave her children alone again so they could hopefully become open targets.
I was hell-bent on acquiring the daughter’s appealing necklace once the mum, then her brother, were both finally out of the picture.
But it was then that a lady walked by, holding her young toddler. She swished her way right past where I was sitting. Too aloof apparently to notice me. And I had to do a double take on what she wore around her throat.
She was expensively dressed in satin, with a double row of smooth, valuably matched, pearls around her throat. Her long hair is conveniently up. I watched with salivating interest as she made her way past me to the powder room, a child clinging to her shoulder.
When that Lass disappeared, my eyes went back to the table with its diamond-wearing Lass.
The lad was still trying to talk his balking sister into doing something, anything.
She was engagingly adjusting an earring, listening to him with an enchanting smile.
Their mum was idly smoking a cigarette, her eyes on the dance floor, her mind a million miles away.
Then the young mum wearing the pearls came out from the powder room hallway, and my attention was once again drawn away by an opportunity I simply could not allow myself to pass up.
Out of the corner of my, I saw her approach my bench, her gown flicking pleasingly along her figure.
I reached down and fumbled with my loose strap.
As I heard her approach, I look up and ask her if she could help me fasten my heel strap.
Her pearl necklace was magnificent.
She chirped politely, “Pleased to help you miss…”
Not sounding aloof in the least as she sat her toddler down. The child was adorably dressed in white satin and looked at me with wide-eyed wonder.
As her mum scrunched down I look around. Coast was clear for lift off…
Dipping my left hands' fingers in and locating her now dangling necklace of pearls’ clasp, I easily undo it, then in one motion lift them up and out from around her neck.
Her swinging ropes of pearls are in my purse before she finishes redoing my loose strap and stands up.
I hear the child giggling and I stroke her satiny attire as the mother stood straightening her dress.
She politely twittered “There you go, so happy I could help .”
I smiled back:
“So was I, beautiful child.”
Happily housing up her child, she left, not noticing she was a few pricy kilograms lighter around her throat.
I watched her move safely off, still admiring the way her gown moved. Mulling over in my mind if I could have lifted a diamond tiara that easily?
With those succulent imaginings I eagerly look back over at the table I had been keeping an eye on.
It was empty…!
My potential mark was gone, that quickly. Had the young twins gone out? We’re they with their mum? I was cursing myself. The pearls were a nice haul. But had I let real diamonds slip from my fingers!
I sighed, rising, straightening my dress, and began to move off, thinking to grab a smoke outside to settle my now overly excited nerves.
Then I spotted a young lady attired all in black satin, consisting of a long dress and bolero jacket.
She was sitting alone three tables away from the one where the twins had sat. Two empty cocktail glasses were at her elbow, a half-full one in front of her.
She was smoking the last vestiges of a cigarette. A thin necklace valuably set with a single row of diamonds flickered up around her throat as she blew a wispy stream of smoke. With one hand she brushed back her long wavy hair, exposing an expensive diamond tennis bracelet that blazed up from her wrist as she did.
“She’s trying to attract attention.” I thought, wondering if she had a clue as to whose attention she had just attracted.
I quickly moved in and took the seat next to her.
“Mind if I sit here a few minutes to catch my breath?”
She obviously did mind, but nodded politely, saying nothing, but started looking around.
I could tell she was on the prowl, and by noticing her ring finger was bare, she was available.
I began the conversation.
“Cannot believe how crowded this party is, and the number of men here.”
She nodded, opening her purse and pulling out another cigarette, and holding it up, like a beacon. She smiled at me weakly. Her face had the same sharp moody features of the sultry actress Jean Harlow.
“Yeah, it’s been alright, but a lot of ladies also. Been a struggle finding anyone to dance with. But that’s what I get for coming alone.”
I smiled, pulling out a cigarette myself, along with my round lighter. I reach over with it and say:
“Here allow me.”
I could see in her eyes, that she was disappointed that no male had spotted her and offered to light it. But as my lighter failed to light I saw relief in her eyes and she looked around for a male hero.
It was at this point my free hand reached down to her wrist and neatly flicked open the clasp of her diamond-studded bracelet hanging down loosely from her wrist. Slipping it off her wrist and in my purse before she could blink her long eyelashes twice at a suitable male for which she was desperately searching.
She gave up her vigil, and turned to me saying :
“That’s ok, You need a lighter that works.”
As the girl with the long eyelashes and bare wrists giggled, I replied :
“Oh, it works, sometimes.”
With a sigh, she finally pulled her own lighter out and lit both hers and my, cigarettes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my tux boy come back, with his sister, slinky gown swirling, in tow. Both giggling over something. It was twinging as it struck me how fetchingly pretty his sister was when she was happy.
And I was equally happy to see her come back.
Instantly my mind turned toward her brother.
If I could just lure him away for a bit. With him out of the way, I should have an open shot at lifting the bloody beautiful necklace his sister was wearing.
I had no real plan yet but figured once the young watchman was out of the picture, I could come up with something on the fly.
My table mate sighed.
“You know, I may just as well blow this joint. Waste of my time getting dressed up tonight.”
I looked away from the lad, back at her, puffing away on her cigarette. An epiphany popped up in my head.
Smashing out my half-smoked cigarette, I opened my purse and from the wad of cash I had taken from my first mark, I peeled off £100 in notes of the realm.
“See that lad over there? Well before you leave it would be worth this…”
I laid the notes on the table
“For you to have a couple of dances with. Him.”
She looked at the pile of cash, speaking.
“Why would you want to pay me this for taking him dancing?”
Her eyes went from the cash on the table to face me with a questioning look, I answered:
“It’s just that his sister, the redhead next to him, had a rather personal question to ask me. And is unable to do so with her brother hovering around.”
I could tell she knew I was lying, her eyes looked over the girl head to toe, then dropped to the designer clutch purse at her elbow.
“Nice purse that.”
She figured that it was her purse I was after. Worth about £400 at a pawn. but she didn’t seem to really care, as neither did I.
Scooping up the notes she put them in her purse, a knock-off designer number.
Smashing out her cigarette, she rose and bid me an uncaring farewell.
I watched as she went up to the table, placed a hand on the lad's shoulder, and said something I was too far away to catch. But he got right up as the lady nodded to his sister, I saw her eyes traveling up and down again, closely drooling over her sumptuous attire.
She then led the lad off.
As I again found myself becoming mesmerized by the shimmering necklace that lay around his sister’s throat, as she was watching her brother being led off.
I shake my head clear, looking away to rationally think.
As I did, my elbow hit something, looking down, I found myself staring at the 1/4 full cocktail glass.
Speaking of plans on the fly.
I picked up the glass and quickly circling, came up from behind to reach my red-headed mark, sitting there with all innocence.
As I passed I said:
“Watch it..”
Then let the drink slip from my hand and land in the silken lap of her gorgeous dark chocolate gown.
She jumped up immediately, and I was ready with my handkerchief.
As I apologized profusely. I Placed one hand on her shoulder and with the other reached down and began sopping up the wet area of her luxurious gown(making sure my fingers reached titillatingly well down along inside her pantyliner to maximize the distraction.
All the while the darling girl was confused, becoming aroused, and apologetic all at the same time.
“It’s ok miss, my fault I’m sure, must have startled you, didn’t I!”
As she spoke, she looked down watching my hand wiping her, long red hair falling into her face, my hand left her quivering shoulder, and locating the clasp of her necklace, flicked it open. Then I pulled it off from around her neck and dropped it neatly into my open purse on the floor.
She pulled her hair up to see, and I grasped her wrist with my now free hand, easily unsnapping her diamond bracelet, where it soon joined its purloined mate inside my purse.
“Do you have a handkerchief luv?”
She nodded her head no. Chandelier Earrings swing out, wickedly flashing their many tiers of pricy diamonds.
“Let’s get you to the washroom and clean you up a bit.”
As she lifted the hem of her wet gown I took her by the scintillating silk gowns covered waist and led her off.
As she was preoccupied with holding and studying her soiled gown, my fingers holding her waist worked over and unhooking her exceptionally valuable diamond brooch, easily lifting it off. Then I curled my fist around it into a ball.
I open the door to the washroom, then as she went in, deposited her brooch in my purse.
I handed her a towel, which she took and began wiping off her slippery wet gown
As she was bending over to clean down her front, her hair kept again falling down over her face.
Here luv, I said taking her soft hair and pulling it back. I laid my fingers cupping her ears. As she was busy wiping off wet spots, I was busy wiping off her ears with a stroking motion. Pulling out her handsomely jeweled earrings in the process.
I stood back, dropping the sparklers inside my purse as I watched her bending over to clean up, her slinky thin gown tightly outlining her figure
As she finished and stood up, I apologized:
“I am so sorry.”
Smiling weakly, she hugged me, saying with her head pressed to my shoulder:
“That’s s ok accidents happen.”
She twittered it pleasantly enough, and I hugged her back.
Pulling away I looked her over.
“Look you missed a spot.”
I lifted her hand and laid it upon the wet area just below her breasts, my fingers tickling. Giggling, she put one hand on my waist for support, and as the other began to wipe her wet spot, I myself wiped off the ring from her slick glove-clad finger.
She was now pretty much cleaned up, and thoroughly cleaned out.
If only she had been wearing that diamond tiara!
I walked back through the exit door as she stayed behind to take care of her business. The excitement, mixed with anguish, made her have to use a stall.
I head off down the hall intending on turning towards the exit once I reach it.
From what had become a habit, I looked towards the red-headed damsel in distress’s table. Brother is not back yet… but…
The wealthy mother, whose glittery diamonds would put a Tiffany’s display case to shame, is back at the table. Gullibly alone. Tiara is glittery like a bloody bright beacon. She is holding an unlit cigarette, a lighter on the table by her purse. She is watching her son on the dance floor.
I said thoughtfully to myself knowing the song was almost through and the lady would be dropping him like a hot potato when it was done:
“In for a penny…”
Licking my lips with expectations, I pull out my round lighter as I walk up to the twin’s richly attired mother…
“May I? “
I lean over as she turned to me, and placed the cigarette in between her red lipstick-covered mouth. Up close, her earrings and tiara flashed into such provoking life it made me blink.
As I clumsily knock her overly expensive purse to the floor with my elbow, I tell her:
“Can never get these bloody things to work.”
Fini
I’m not really wicked, just written that way
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Postscript:
The dance venue in Scotland had a washroom with a linen-covered table stacked with towels.
It was underneath where cleanup found my rhinestone bracelet.
Yes, I had used the wash.
But what if it had gone like this:
An observers viewpoint:
The mum is wearing real diamonds in her earrings. Therefore reasonable to assume her daughter’s bracelet must be real diamonds also, and a young lady is usually the easier pick.
Bracelet is acquired, discovered not to be real, not wishing to be caught with a nicked bracelet of just rhinestone, the evidence is tossed.
I mean really, it could have happened that way?
“Le chat mangerait du poisson, mais ne se mouillerait pas les pieds”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
the cat would eat fish, but would not wet her feet
Le chat mangerait du poisson, mais ne se mouillerait pas les pieds