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Travel But No Sex On The Night Train Of Years Ago

women-in-pullman-section-berths-january-1930-hulton-archive-getty-images_600px

The night train goes between Halifax and Montreal, and Montreal and Halifax. You can’t get there from here in daylight . . . by train. The train chug chug chugs out of Halifax early afternoon, and out of Montreal early evening. The two pass somewhere in Quebec. Arrival in Montreal is early morning (breakfast time) and early evening (supper time).

Although I’ve had some association with trains for decades (the father of a next-door childhood friend was even the conductor on a train) I came to my pleasure and interest in trains from my first trip to Europe. Both in Great Britain, and the continent, I had great pleasure on the trains (much due to the scenery I had never seen). It was really after that first trip that I travelled with any seriousness by train in Canada. And, as I said, any travel from east to west must include the night train to Montreal.

I have been blessed in that I have never had to ‘sit up’ on this trip (though, these days, even that is not too bad). I’ve had berths (upper and lower) and compartments (these days – again – even with their own shower). And I love the dome cars, sitting there for hours even after dark. It is a grand sensation travelling though the darkened forests with often no more than moon light and stars. And the red and green signal lights of the track itself.

Back ‘in the day’ I even almost had a Night train romance.

This was in the upper berths, where nothing more than a curtain flap and a zipper kept the sleepers private. One usually undressed while supine upon the mattress, sloughing off one’s outer clothes.

On one particular journey to Montreal, in the dark of that Quebec landscape, across the narrow aisle, was a beautiful teen-aged gal, not many years younger than myself. And she indicated ‘interest’, with smiles and giggles and some gentle teasing of undress.

However, she travelled with her (I presume) parents, safely ensconced in the lower berths. And Daddy looked as if he:

a) would brook no nonsense

and (more to the point)

b) would cease and desist any interest by me

The sweet lass keep appearing from behind her curtain with smiles and gestures, but finally realized that an athletic leap from my side to hers was neither safe nor wise. We arrived in Montreal as pure as we set out.

*Sigh*

(image)http://www.museumoftheamericanrailroad.org/Portals/0/Gallery/Album/21/Women-in-Pullman-Section-Berths-January-1930-Hulton-Archive-Getty-Images_600px.jpg

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Going Up And Down In Montréal

 

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(Place Ville Marie)

At one time I shared a whole house with four other people. Two were in the process of becoming lawyers. I noted that most of their stories did not contain much whimsy. The following is a story one of the fellows told us. I, of course, make up the dialogue but, though fiction, it is based on his facts.

*********************

“I don’t mean to stare – I apologise. I’m not in the habit of doing this, but you remind me of someone. That has to sound like a line – the look on your face. But I’m not after ….

“Have you ever been in the train station at Place Ville Marie in Montréal? The escalators that come up by the Queen Elizabeth Hotel.  I had a lot of travel to get to work when I lived in Montréal, and made train and bus connection.

“No, thanks. I don’t want another.

“One morning – a Thursday – as I was going up the escalator, I saw a girl coming down from the street. She had short red hair – that’s the main reason I’ve been staring – and a green skirt with a white blouse. Coming down that escalator, with that wide space between us. She was looking at me the way I was looking at her – interest and excitement and whatever potential that leads to. We stared into each others eyes as we came level, and craned to look back as we passed.

“I guess I’ll have another of the same, after all.

“That was stupid enough. I should have jumped that barrier, or at least gone down after her. But I had a job, and was young, and things like that just don’t happen.

“Next morning, even though I was looking for her, and hoping so much, I couldn’t have been more shocked by a ghost when I saw that red hair. She had that same look – of shock.

“God, to be so unsure of what to do, and stupid to the ways of the world, and even to have that stabbing thought that it can happen again tomorrow. We stared and stared, you could almost feel electricity between us. At the top I waited as long as I dared, hoping she would come up. I had to get my bus, and just jumped it as it was pulling away.

“That was a Friday. I sweated through the weekend, full of grand plans about telling her to wait, or to come up to me, or yelling my phone number. She wasn’t there, of course, on Monday or any other day. I looked the rest of the summer, then it was back to university.

“I mean, to be given one chance like that and waste it. But two. I’ve never forgotten, even now with a wife and kids, I wonder what might have been. It can make my hands shake, seeing someone like you, and with too much drink in me.”

From Russia With Sex And Blackmail

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At my business email (which has been very good at keeping spam and nut bars away), I received my first threatening message this morning.
All the way from Russia (or, in this day an age – from a mouth-breather in a basement two streets over), some person or bot wants me to fork over lots of bitcoin cash to keep a video compilation of my various naughty sex acts from going viral.
BTW, I’d love to see such a video, being quite proud of my various naughty sex acts.
And, I’m chuffed to be included in some Russian Internet umbrella that can rig an American election, bring down countries, and stop the trains from running all over the globe.
At any rate, here’s the email, uncorrected. Nor did I waste my time inserting [ sic erat scriptum ].  They are obvious.
Apparently the clock is ticking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You shouldn’t do haphazard things
Have  couple of issues to resolve with you Dale Estey, will not take too long, for u to go through and can undoubtedly take ur attention. How would u truly feel if all ur family members or good friends will witness you taking proper care of your self? How will they really feel is the proper dilemma here.

You see  exactly where I am going with this one?  poisoned particular adult internet sites with my malware that steals all info from your system and gets an access to it’s cameras, and lots more. Therefore at this point i have a video of u wanking and a video you wanked to, as well as all your personal contact information.

This is ur job email, which I have found on your personal device btw.

Ok last one, I’ve additionally modified a video to fit on a single tv screen, therefore it will be a lot more relaxing to watch for everybody. Anyway- if u want me to erase all your contact info with the movie, here is my Bitcoin wallet address-  18hytYB5QjjcikiW39GoU2axMQfFYtsLzX

make sure you won’t include no spaces or other symbols. You can easily find the info on the internet on how you can use this payment method if you have no idea how its done. 300 is the total in Usd i require to leave you alone completely.

This mail has undetectable monitoring tool inside and i will know when you’ll open it, and from that minute on, you’ll be given 4 days, to make-up your mind.

I guarantee that each contact from your address book will see this video, in case for some reason i won’t obtain my funds.
U can make contact with your localized authorities or anyone, i doubt that it might help.

(image)eco.imgix.net/uploads/2018/01/cropped-bitcoin-2868704_1920-1.jpg

Trump And A Soldier Walk Into A Bar

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~ Good Day to you, Mr. President.

~ Take it easy, soldier.

~ Sir.

~ You know – at ease.

~ Yes, Sir.

~ What can I get you?

~ I’m not allowed to drink on duty, Sir.

~ I’m your Commander-in-Chief. I can allow it.

~ You’d have to order me, Sir.

~ Would that work?

~ I don’t know, Sir. That’s above my pay grade.

~ Not above mine.

~ No, Sir.

~ I have billions.

~ Yes, Sir.

~ Billions and billions and billions.

~ Yes, Sir.

~ I could pay you to drink.

~ I couldn’t take pay, Sir.

~ It would be a bribe?

~ No other word for it, Sir.

~ So – what do you think of the cross-dressers?

~ Pardon me, Sir?

~ You know – cross-dressers in the military.

~ We’re all cross-dressers in the military, Sir.

~ What?

~We take off our civvies and put on a uniform. Sir.

~ Then that isn’t it.

~ No, Sir.

~ Gotcha. It’s the transgenders.You know them?

~ In truth, I don’t, Sir. Those uniforms keep things private.

~ But you must wonder about them.

~ Not for a second, Sir.

~ You don’t care what’s between their legs?

~ No, Sir.

~ That doesn’t sound natural.

~ Sir, as long as they carry a gun and got my back – I don’t care what’s between their legs.

DE

(image)a57.foxnews.com/images.foxnews.com/content/fox-news/us/2017/04/13/ap-fact-check-do-trump-mar-lago-trips-cost-3-million/_jcr_content/par/featured-media/media-2.img.jpg/876/493/1492068958122.jpg?ve=1&tl=1

The Lewd Word I Will Not Even Use In The Title

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I have often thought that, when an odd jumble of ideas enters your head all at once from different sources, your mind might just explode.

Exposure to the internet is something like that where, in the course of five minutes, you might have extreme information flash past. You do with it what you will.

Conversely, when the same word, phrase or idea comes into your ken from extremely diverse sources in mere minutes, you take note. Such happened to me in a ten minute period a couple of days ago. It was the word ‘cunt’.

This is a word I don’t use and, after a degree of thought, don’t think many (if any) of my characters use. Maybe someone once in five years. I never restrict my characters’ vocabulary.

However, there it appeared. Not only unusually, but from two unusual places.

The first place was in an article about the names of places in London. I might expect a bit of raunch here, but I was taken aback by Gropecunt Lane. Actually, that was a bit of a double whammy, as it is both action and noun. Yet, there it was, complete with provenance and description.

Gropecunt Lane

What is now an incredibly rude name for a street actually served a purpose when it first got its name. Even back in the Middle Ages, plenty of towns and cities had a red-light district, including London. The C word, of course, is a pretty offensive word used to describe female body parts. A name like this implied this was a part of town with many houses of ill-repute. Other towns with this name have since changed it to “Gropecount”, “Grapecount”, “Grape Lane”, and more.

Then within five minutes, as I was reading a sports site to find out why Lionel Messi, the great Barcelona soccer player, had received a four game suspension, I found out he is a bit of a potty mouth.

Enraged by a decision by an official, he said: “la concha de tu madre” which translates as “your mother’s cunt”.

The power of words.

DE

Seasons, Storms And Mushrooms Enhance Life And Love

 

the-perfect-storm-in-digital-marketing-q1Dear Eustace:

Summer wings its indolent way past,

and the petal touch of fall floats the air.

If one refused to meld into the other,

would thoughts of mortality arise?

I have often wished

– no, not upon the distant stars (shooting stars are dying a hot death, did you ever think of that?) –

but upon the green/mauve bud and the chill of September morns.

The wishes and the dreams … oh, my.

Have you noticed the abundance of mushrooms this year,

ink caps thrusting to the sky?

Such treats

– such tasty, tasty, treats.

Yours,

Margot.

 

*******

Dear Margot:

The seasons each have their place,

and since I get pleasure from them all,

their comings,

goings

(or, if you wish – passings)

seem not the least profound.

I certainly shan’t waste my time pondering over morality

– what, after all, is more immortal than the changing seasons?

And what might your wishes be, my friend?

I rarely do little more than reach out my hand,

and am fulfilled.

There is so much bounty to partake of

– and no better displayed then at this time of year

(your seasons; Bursting seasons).

Ah, the summer sun has warmed me,

but the crisp fall eve shall make me more appreciate

a warm lady snuggled by my side.

Watch out for mushrooms,

they make the body lament a single bed.

Yours,

Eustace

 

 

*******

Dear Eustace:

My wishes would leave you

– yes, even you –

dazzled.

There aren’t heights on the earth tall enough to reach them,

and the ocean depths would soon be full,

if ever I let my hopes accumulate.

Ask not after a person’s dreams, for you could easily violate a soul.

I put more trust in the unspoken word,

and the unseen deed,

for they are oft the strongest.

There is chill enough in the air this morning to make your warm ladies

work overtime to keep you in a happy state.

What a storm was loosed upon the world last night.

I fear the poor mushrooms

will be more mush than anything else.

I fill my bed quite happily, sir,

do not lament for me.

Yours,

Margot

 

 

*******

Dear Margot:

I shall trust unspoken words

when my ears hurt from the noise they make.

I hear too much as it is,

voices full-primed with choice advice and platitudes,

whether from the pulpit or a cozy bed companion.

You’d be surprised the little that I heed.

With so much new in life,

so much to taste and try,

the wonder lies in the drabness of most lives.

From where do so many fears spring,

and how do they exist?

We also had a grand storm across our lands,

but I had not ignored the signs, and thus picked

a bounty of the succulent fungi.

Whether they aided me or not I can’t say,

but my rest did seem more deserved than usual.

Yours,

Eustace

ps Moira sends again her thanks for your hospitality.

 

DE

(image)https://brand-quarterly-veseycreative.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/The-Perfect-Storm-In-Digital-Marketing-Q1.jpg

Sex Orgy In The British Army With A Regimental Cane

I not only attempt to write fiction, I have, over the years, written a lot of fiction. My fiction ranges from the conversations between God and an Elephant, to the account of a sociopath serial killer, to the diary of Franz Kafka, to NATO military intrigue. In many ways I think I’ve covered the bases. See a stone, and I turn it over.

But I admit being stopped in my tracks by this Daily Mail Facebook NewsFeed.

I confess, I could not make this stuff up.

DE

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

 

And performed a sex act on one while he was wearing a gas mask.

Woman took part in barricks orgy with up to seven soldiers.
The orgy at Bulford Barrack, Wiltshire came to light when the woman complained about being hit with a ‘regimental cane’.
dailymail

Wild Beavers Play An Age-Old Game In Nature

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(image) https://static-secure.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/11/25/1290710571034/Beavers-007.jpg

I was walking along the river and heard the strangest noise.

It was one of those noises which, when I found out what It was, sounded exactly as it should. A beaver was chewing at a branch on the bank of the river. First there were small rolling noises, as the branch went through its hands. Then the ‘gnaw gnaw gnaw’. And then the turning noise and the cycles were repeated.

This went on fifteen minutes or so, until the beaver and I both heard noises in the water.

We both saw another beaver approaching. The beaver-at-gnaw quickly went in her direction (though I can only guess which sex was which). They swam toward each other then rubbed faces. The approaching beaver made small bawling noises like a young calf. They rubbed bodies and seemed to sniff each other. They then swam in different directions.

This performance – the swimming away, the languid circling, the approaches – went on for twenty minutes. A couple of times the ‘gnawing’ beaver clambered over the over beaver’s back, but this lasted just a few seconds. The beaver that had first approached rubbed noses once again, then made the bawling sounds one more time.

I never appreciated how large beavers are until one of them came up on the bank. The water was clear enough to see their feet and tail move underwater (I wonder if the portion out of the water might have the 1/10 proportion of an iceberg). The sun was setting and they became difficult to see. However they decided to part anyway. One began to go down river toward the harbour and one headed to the other shore. For me an experience of a lifetime.

DE

Alison Alexandra Gets Tugged Into Fashionable Sex

sex

(image) http://discovermagazine.com/~/media/import/images/4/0/8/sex.jpg

Although a gal has just gotta do what a gal gotta do, it is far far better when she gets to do what she wants to do. And Alison Alexandra has always been that kinda gal, too.

Alison Alexandra is in no way a tease, but the author can have his moments. And the tweets to prove it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dale Estey @DaleEstey 1m1 minute ago

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) finds she is the cause of a dare. Whiskey is involved. #character #story #writing

Dale Estey @DaleEstey 31s31 seconds ago

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) takes the offered drink of whiskey. It is inferior stock. #character #story #writing #plot

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) wants to jump out of this party and go to another century. #character #story #writing #plot

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) drinks the poor whiskey, for she likes who offers it. #writing #plot #character #beginning

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) would just as soon not have a partner at the party. #writing #plot #character #beginnings

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) raises a glass of (inferior) whiskey to the sailor with a spyglass.#writing #plot #character
 
Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) is enticing sailors from their crows’ nest. They have some naughty thoughts. #write #plot
Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) discuss sailors & their spyglass with naughty Amanda. Girls, decorum please! #write #plot
Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) plans an outing to a seedy bar & a roast beef buffet with naughty Amanda.  #character #plot
Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka) meets a bartender named Tug. He is full of surprises. #characters #plot
@DaleEstey 1m1 minute ago

Alison Alexandra (once known as Hermione Kafka )finds that the bartender, Tug, is a fair seaman himself. On to the ship!. #characters #plot

Alison Alexandra (one time known as Hermione Kafka)  finds when with a man named Tug, that’s what he does to your clothes. #character #plot

DE

 

 

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