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The Unofficial I Love Karen Daniels Thread

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DetroitGamer
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#391

Posted 23 August 2015 - 03:02 AM

 

Thread of the Rear
:p

Indeed it is ;) XD
B2gikl1.gif

 

OP is probably like:

 

131.gif

550.gif

Hahaha. :D

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Fang420
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#392

Posted 23 August 2015 - 04:30 AM

tumblr_ngee9pgIL11sj3oxho1_500.jpg

this summed it up perfectly. are you like 12 OP?

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SupaBad95
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#393

Posted 23 August 2015 - 04:46 AM Edited by SupaBad95, 23 August 2015 - 04:49 AM.

Getting a stiffy over some pixels. Re-evaluate your lives please  :panic:

Oh and she's built like an out of shape soccer-mom and kinda ugly too.


Semaj 2JZ♢
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#394

Posted 23 August 2015 - 04:59 AM

So, this whole thread makes sense, it's totally worth it's space, provides useful information and only complacent agreement to it's validity, or get out, huh? Is that how it works? ...wow. The assumed average age and competency of the individuals here in GTAF, has just been knocked down a peg or two. Pat yourselves on the back. You deserve it...

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#395

Posted 23 August 2015 - 05:05 AM

So, this whole thread makes sense, it's totally worth it's space, provides useful information and only complacent agreement to it's validity, or get out, huh? Is that how it works? ...wow. The assumed average age and competency of the individuals here in GTAF, has just been knocked down a peg or two. Pat yourselves on the back. You deserve it...


Woah,loosen up there Mr.Grumpy Pants,this is for fun.

If people had a problem,it would be locked by now,which us clearly not the case.
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xInfamousRYANx
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#396

Posted 23 August 2015 - 08:25 AM

Getting a stiffy over some pixels. Re-evaluate your lives please  :panic:
Oh and she's built like an out of shape soccer-mom and kinda ugly too.

Hey people get hard ons for porn. When u break it down porn is nothing but pixels on your screen
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saintsrow
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#397

Posted 23 August 2015 - 08:28 AM Edited by saintsrow, 23 August 2015 - 11:28 AM.

 

So, this whole thread makes sense, it's totally worth it's space, provides useful information and only complacent agreement to it's validity, or get out, huh? Is that how it works? ...wow. The assumed average age and competency of the individuals here in GTAF, has just been knocked down a peg or two. Pat yourselves on the back. You deserve it...


Woah,loosen up there Mr.Grumpy Pants,this is for fun.

If people had a problem,it would be locked by now,which us clearly not the case.

 

Totally right. :^:  :^:  This is just for fun.  

 

Like I said before, this is more fun than going online, another night of getting sniped and sticky-bombed every 30 seconds.  

 

Meanwhile, I feel another chapter of Karen fanfic coming on.  Our favorite muse, Karen, is tickling my ... creative instincts.   :p

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LieutenantLoserz
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#398

Posted 23 August 2015 - 01:14 PM

So, this whole thread makes sense, it's totally worth it's space, provides useful information and only complacent agreement to it's validity, or get out, huh? Is that how it works? ...wow. The assumed average age and competency of the individuals here in GTAF, has just been knocked down a peg or two. Pat yourselves on the back. You deserve it...

Woah,loosen up there Mr.Grumpy Pants,this is for fun.

If people had a problem,it would be locked by now,which us clearly not the case.

I think OP is serious but this is fun
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countingfingers
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#399

Posted 23 August 2015 - 07:03 PM

14 pages of thread. Best thread ever.
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Clueless Muffin
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#400

Posted 23 August 2015 - 07:06 PM Edited by Rockwheels, 23 August 2015 - 07:06 PM.

Thought this was a new car from Karin thread, but I guess I read it wrong.
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Striker258
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#401

Posted 23 August 2015 - 07:37 PM

maxresdefault.jpg


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#402

Posted 23 August 2015 - 07:53 PM

Indeed it is ;) XD
Gif


This thread is cancer but wanes post genuinely made me laugh.

LieutenantLoserz
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#403

Posted 24 August 2015 - 12:40 AM

This thread is cancer 

 

This thread is the best cancer ever


saintsrow
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#404

Posted 24 August 2015 - 07:47 AM Edited by saintsrow, 14 December 2017 - 08:42 AM.

Based on a previous request for 18+ Karen fanfiction, the muse struck, and now there is more.  Yeah, this is getting a little weird, but it's more fun than free-roam :)

 

 

Karen, Chapter 2:  Dangerous Business

 

Note:  These events follow from CHAPTER 1

 

So, after I submerged the Panto, around midnight, I spent a couple nights living under the bushes with the squirrels, near the beach in Paleto Bay.  [ All night, I was wishing I could get under Karen’s bush…   :p ]   I was beginning to wonder if she had ditched me, but I wanted to be with her so bad, I stuck with the gig, hoping that she would call.  Not that I had anywhere else to go…
 
Then Karen called me, and got me set up in her safehouse on Procopio Drive in Paleto.  Not nearly as nice as the Vespucci Beach place – it was down-market, older and completely un-hip, just like the neighborhood – and just like the neighbors.   :)  But I thought to myself, be lucky you’re not in a trailer in f*cking Sandy Shores.  So in a few days, I got the place stocked up, and kept a low profile.  
 
 

The Procopio Drive safehouse:  

 

R8ncZfc.jpg

 

Right away, I needed a car to get groceries and do the errands, so when Karen stopped by in her SUV, she dropped off a wad of cash, and told me to find something that wouldn’t stand out.  I walked up the street to Beeker’s garage to see if they had any repos or trade-ins, and I found a sweet Sabre Turbo.  With the extra cash Karen gave me, I got the Turbo performance modded on the inside, but I decided that getting hot pink pearlescent paint, chrome stripe job, turquoise dollar-sign rims with off-road tires and a hemi air scoop poking through the hood, would probably not be a good way to keep a low profile, so I kept the stock paint job and rims on the outside.  
 
Karen came around a couple of times in the first two weeks, moving in her guns and who knows what else, setting up some electronic sh*t that she didn’t bother to explain to me, and then she was gone again, back to the field, with hardly a word, just like in Vespucci.  I wanted her like crazy, but I told myself, this is a real nice gig – be happy with what you have; don’t f*ck it up.  
 
 
After a couple more weeks, Karen came by after dark, and I assumed it would just be another quick overnight in-and-out, as usual, but not the kind of in-and-out that I wanted soooo much ;) .   Instead, she got a beer from the fridge, sat down at the dining room table, and told me that she wanted to talk to me.  I thought, uh-oh, this is probably the end of it.  I’ve heard the “we need to talk” speech before.  And with Karen, I never even got to first base; not even to the dugout.   :( Thinking that, I needed a beer as well, so I got one, and sat down at the table with her.  

 

 

The fateful dining room table:  

 

0_0.jpg

 

The evening was not too warm, feeling just about right, and the crickets were unceasing in their mating calls, coming through the open window.  The incandescent ceiling light above the dining table lent a beautiful, warm glow to Karen’s lovely, lightly tanned skin.  I could tell that being in the field sometimes kept her outside in the sunshine (doing recon, surveillance, sabotage, sunbathing, who knows?).  I imagined again how she would look in her bikini. Sighhhhhh.   :p
 
So I planted my butt on the chair and waited to hear the bad news.  She looked me in the eye, and the look was soft, not the usual hardass-on-a-mission glare that she always seemed to have going on.  Then suddenly she broke off the look, the glare came back, and she seemed to be aware of the crickets.  She got up and closed the window, and the crickets were gone.  Everything silent, still, just Karen and I in the room.  
 
Still moving, she hadn’t sat back down.  I followed her every movement with my eyes and my full rapt attention.  She reached into her tote bag and fished out one of those new age wave-sound gadgets that people use to put themselves to sleep at night.  She turned it on, set it to the continuous rain sound, almost like white noise, cranked up the volume, and set the box on the kitchen bar next to the radio.  
 
Then Karen sat back down at the dining table, and took her smartphone out of the tote.  The focused, all-business glare was still there on her face.  She touched the screen a few times, held up the phone and looked closely at it, then set it down on the table in front of her, with the screen still turned on.  
 
At that point, she lost the hardass glare, and her look went soft again.  Karen exhaled a small sigh and looked at me.  I realized that I had probably not taken a breath since I sat down at the table.  I tried to relax.  Ironically, even though I expected that this was the end of the gig, my love and lust for Karen were rising within me, and I just wanted to look at her and hear her voice, even it if was going to be for the last time.  She began to talk.  
 
“O.P., first I want to say, you’re doing a good job here.  You managed the transition from the Vespucci safehouse pretty well.  Sorry about the bushes and the squirrels, but I had to be sure, before we set up this place.”  [she said “we” again.   Ahhhhhh… could there be hope for me yet??]    
 
“What I want to tell you is that, obviously, I’m in a dangerous business.  Because you’re an acquaintance of mine [an acquaintance…sob   :*(   … I want to be so much more…], that puts you in danger.  I want to give you some insight regarding what you're getting into if you keep working for me, even if you’re just housesitting.”  
 
Karen went on, “You see what I just did a minute ago?  I closed the window to keep our voices from carrying out into the Paleto night.  I turned on that noisemaker to cover up our conversation, in case somebody planted a bug in here that I can’t detect, or has a long-range mic aimed at us.  On this phone,” she pushed the phone over to me, “I’ve got an app that communicates by Bluetooth to an array of Doppler sensors outside the house here, so I’ll know if somebody is getting too near.  When I say ‘somebody’ I mean somebody bad.”  
 
I was intrigued, but not too surprised.  I watch the spy movies, too.  I looked at the phone and saw a little set of green dots that looked like they outlined the safehouse and garage.  I supposed that the phone would make some alert sound, and one of the dots would flare red, if one of these sensors triggered.  
 
So what Karen was saying, made sense.  As I moved the phone a bit closer to me to see the screen better, I made a noise like, “Yeah, I kinda understand,” and took a swig of beer to loosen up my throat, which was dry with mounting tension.  I met her gaze and she acknowledged.  She continued, “I set this stuff up, last time I was here.  It’s not easy, but it has to be done.  These are the kinds of things you have to do, every day, just to stay alive in this business.  You can never trust anyone, or any situation.  You can never have an exposed flank.”  [ I thought, man, I would love to see Karen’s exposed flanks ]  :sigh:
 
“So now we come to you.  Here you are, an innocent, lame-ass-horn-dog, suddenly in the middle of a whole different ballgame, my friend.”  [WTF, I thought; lame-ass horn-dog? :*(    That’s what she said to me the first time we met – yeah it was true, but being told this again by Karen – it was a shock] 
 
“W-What do you mean?”  I asked, my eyes wide.  
 
Karen smiled.  It was a nice smile, not a mean smile like she probably has when she’s about to work somebody over with a flashlight.  She replied, “What I mean is, you can’t turn your back on somebody in this business, unless you *really* trust them.  Otherwise, you’re dead.  Or worse.”  
 
She paused.  Her look got a bit more hardened, as she drifted back into her business mindset.  Then she continued, “So, how do I trust you?  By the time you showed up at Vespucci answering the LifeInvader ad, I already had you background-checked and cross-checked, and you looked authentic – just another normal nobody.  But a background check means almost nothing anymore.  You could still be an FIB mole, or a pathetic screwup being squeezed by the cartel or the Russian mob, or paid off by some rich f*ck like Devin Weston, who meddles too much in the affairs of legitimate federal agents.”  
 
“Even worse, some rogue FIB asshole like Steven f*cking Haines could be putting the screws to you, like he’s doing with his three stooges down in Los Santos.   He’s got some washed-up bank robber from the snow country who’s strutting around at Richards Majestic – I know you briefly met him – making like he’s f*cking Tarantino, plus some drugged-up ex-military psycho hilljack from Sandy Shores, and they roped in a young black guy from Davis, who had a life, until he sniped a couple of my co-workers.  They’ve already caused me enough problems.”  
 
Karen was on a roll.  She went on, “If I had one of Haines’ lapdogs this close to me,” and she momentarily brushed her fingertips on my hand, where I had still been touching the edge of her phone in front of me, so rapt that I hadn’t moved.  [she touched my haaaaannnndddddd… yeeeessssss!!!!], “I’d put a bullet through their eye so fast, they wouldn’t even have time to think ‘Wait a minute…’ before their brains would be splattered all over the living room wall.”  
 
I was just starting to think, “Wait a minute…” when I realized that so far, my brains were not all splattered over the living room wall … yet.  Everything stood still for what seemed like a few seconds.  I was looking straight into Karen’s eyes, still reeling from the dual shock of her gentle touch, and the wave of sudden building panic that I was about to be fired, literally, from this job, and this life, by my employer and my crush, dear Karen.  
 
But the sudden panic was over – it happened so quick that the feeling was fading before the full adrenaline pulse got hold of me.  I was already calming down.  But she clearly saw my eyes go wide, and her look instantly softened.  She smiled again and said, “Hey, O.P., chill, I didn’t mean that I think you’re a plant.  Just the opposite, I was going to say, I do trust you.  Don’t worry.  Be happy.”   
 
She smiled, “You know why I trust you?  I don’t take any chances.  The Vespucci safehouse had hidden cameras, besides bug detectors and other toys.  If you had any visitors, or planted any bugs, or went snooping around my room, I would have known, and you’d already be floating face down in the canal with a broken neck.”  
 
[Whoa, I thought.  This kind of talk was fun the first time I heard it, but now it’s getting a little too close to home…]  Then she smiled a bit more, almost like she was laughing internally, recalling a humorous situation.  But I still didn’t connect with what was coming.   
 
Karen continued, “If you would have rubbed my panties all over your dick and jazzed on my pillowcases five times in one night, with those cameras, I would have known.”  Then she broke into a full smile, a wonderful, beautiful, knowing look, directed at me, that made me so happy, even in the dawning awareness of where she was going with this.  She added, “Oh, that’s right, you *did* jizz all over my pillows and my panties, and you *did* roll around apesh*t in my bed all night, like a ferret in heat.”  She paused for a second, “The cameras have night vision.  Plus, your morning show was pretty good, too.”  
 
She paused and looked at me pointedly, with that confident smirk, but her eyes were soft and met mine, waiting to see my reaction.  I felt hollow inside.  It’s a sudden empty feeling, to be caught like that with your pants down … literally.  I didn’t know what to say, and I broke off my gaze and looked down at the table.  
 
Karen went on, obviously enjoying the humor in all this, “I could post that video to my LifeInvader page, with the title, ‘One of my Secret Admirers.’  That’d be a hoot!”  
 
I was trying to form some words in my mind, to tell Karen that yes, I made a fool of myself, but it’s because I really love her and want her.  But she continued talking, “So O.P., I have you pretty well sussed out.  Background checks don’t tell me anything about a person, the way those videos did.  I do understand you, now, and I do trust you.  You’re just a lame-ass horn-dog.  But you’re not a dangerous mole that needs to be put down.”  
 
She waited for me to look back up at her.  She said, “Don’t feel bad, O. P.  You’re kind of sexy when you’re horny; so cute, actually,” and she smiled widely again.  “…and you’ve got stamina.  I like that.”  
 
I finally found my voice.  I choked up for a second, but then I said, “Karen, I’m just gonna say it, since it’s obvious, I declare it now:  ‘I officially love Karen Daniels.’  Since day one.  I want to be with you, emotionally, mentally, carnally, and … all the stuff like that.  ”  
 
So it was all out.  I was shocked, embarrassed, and dazed, but relieved.  It couldn’t get any worse.  It had to be uphill from here.  She said I was cute…
 
Karen reached across the table again and took my hand, which was still near her phone.  This was a whole different side of her, the real woman, not the hardass cop or whatever she was.  She said, “So let me continue.  I was starting to tell you that you’ll be getting into a dangerous kind of life if you stay associated with me.  Even though I like you,” and she squeezed my hand [whoa, OK, I’m starting to get horny, now :) ], “or actually, *because* I like you … the best thing you can do is get out of town, out of Los Santos, out of Paleto, away from me, far away, where you won’t have any connection to me, and live a quiet life, before you get in any deeper.”  [  I thought, all I want to do, is get in deeper ] ;)  
 
My fingers intertwined with Karen’s.  I brought my other hand over to enclose hers on the table.  She said, “The things I do are dangerous, exotic, undercover activities [ I thought, that’s what I want to do with her – dangerous, exotic activities under the covers… ].  The people I’m up against are dangerous people [ I wanted to be up against her, and I’m not even dangerous :)    ].  You don’t know all the tricks that they know, or that I know, so you could easily be trapped by these types, and very bad things would happen to you.”  
 
Karen was in full speechmaking mode now, clearly voicing the topics she wanted to say to me when she told me to sit down for a talk.  There was an actual edge of concern in her voice.  She continued, “O.P., I don’t want you to get caught by these assholes.  F*cking Haines got that psycho trailer-dwelling pervert to torture a suspect they liberated from us, but the worst part was his bullsh*t moralizing after he tortured the guy – what  a mind f*ck.  You wouldn’t be able stand it, and I couldn’t stand by and let it happen to you.  What I’m saying is that these dangerous people are dangerous, and what’s worse, they have stupid people working for them, and the only things more dangerous than dangerous people are stupid people.”  
 
I was mostly getting the gist of it, maybe losing track of some of the finer points, but all I knew is that my body was ready.  I pushed back my chair and stood up, still holding onto Karen’s hand, as I moved around to her side of the table and kind of pulled her up, toward me, as she rose from her chair by her own intent, as well.  Our eyes were locked, standing face to face, with her hand in mine.  Emotion was welling up inside me like a tsunami.  Karen’s eyes looked over my face, up and down, evaluating my expression, which was perfectly clear with my amorous intent [read:  horn-dog incoming…].  I moved to put my arm around the small of her back.  Karen’s lips began to part … 
 
Suddenly, a loud buzzing sound blared out from her tote bag, which was lying on the table, the buzzing amplified by the tabletop as a soundboard.  It broke the mood like a thunderclap.  Karen’s expression changed instantly, like brainstem reflex, to a hyperfocused glare, all business.  She yanked away from me and grabbed the top of the bag to open it, and quickly pulled out a pager, still buzzing, but muted now by her hand.  She looked at the number on the pager, and her expression returned completely to her hardass-supercop-on-a-mission.  The moment was totally blown.  My heart sank, back into the sea.  The tsunami was gone.  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH........
 
In the same motion as she raised the tote bag onto her shoulder, Karen pushed me away, and scanned the room quickly for anything she needed to pick up, her eyes not even seeing me, like I wasn't even there.  She spied her phone on the table and immediately grabbed it, and then she was on the move toward the front door, just like that day when she darted out of the bungalow in Vespucci.  
 
I started to say, “Wait!!” but the words caught in my throat because I knew it wouldn’t matter.  But then I thought, I should say something useful, so I quickly exclaimed, “Is there anything I need to do?”  
 
That stopped her in her tracks – apparently saying something which may be relevant to her mission was enough to get through, to remind her that I was actually still there.  With her hand on the door handle, she turned back to me, and said “For now, just keep doing what you’re doing, housesitting, low profile.  No changes here.  I’ll be back in a couple of days.  I’ve got a project going on, and I need to take care of something, right now.  If I need you to do anything different, I’ll call.”  
 
Then, I think, a tiny bit of the memory what just *almost* happened between us, emerged in her consciousness for a second, displacing the reflexive mission focus that had clicked on in her mind as soon as the pager went off.  Her look softened a bit and she added, “Everything’s under control.  But this kind of stuff happens.  Sorry, but in this business, I gotta be a hardass.  Actually, in almost any business, you gotta be a hardass.  No room for fun.  But sometimes it’s nice to have a little company, someone you can trust, when things calm down.”  
 
With that prescient observation, she turned and rushed out the door, swinging it shut as she ran outside.  I heard the SUV ignition kick in, the motor gunned, and then I heard a brief chirp of the tires on the driveway as she punched the SUV in reverse and out into the street, and she was gone.  
 
Wow.  What a rollercoaster.  I remembered every second of what just transpired, I hung onto Karen’s every word, and, knowing now how she felt about me, and what she was really like, and anticipating her return, my emotions were high as a kite.  I was feeling emotionally warm, but mentally numb.  Awareness of the surroundings was creeping back into my consciousness.  The white noise that she turned on was now like a roaring in my ears.  I reached over to the box and shut it off.  Sudden, blissful silence… ahhhhh…
 
I took a deep breath and finally, fully returned to the here and now.  I remembered how the night started, with the sound of the crickets.  I walked over and opened the window, so I could hear them again.  The world felt real again.  Then I slumped into my chair at the table, and I was about to take a big swig of my beer, but then I noticed Karen’s bottle across the table, and instead, I took a swig from it, tasting her once more.  It would be a microscopic reminder of the first kiss we almost shared, and I could only hope that the attractive force that rose between us, the magic moment, will descend upon us again, the next time she visits.  
 

:inlove:

 

 

Stay tuned for Chapter 3 !

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saintsrow
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#405

Posted 24 August 2015 - 09:26 AM

 

 

Funny how it's perfectly OK for the Molly fans to search up photos of her RL voice actor.... yet I'm the crazy demented one for doing the same with Karen Daniels :)

:^: So, LordRaijin, can you be our Forum delegate to invite her voice actor over here to the GTAV Forums to start a thread, like Lamar's voice actor did?  It would be very popular.  
 
The only trouble is, half the responses would be us swooners and stalkers, and that would be nice, but the other half would be the vicious, misogynistic, hateful Forum aggros who would rip into her, so she's gonna have to come on like an iron bitch, just like the GTAV character, to put those assholes in their place.
Can I get a link to that thread?

 

This is the Lamar voice actor thread


LieutenantLoserz
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#406

Posted 26 August 2015 - 11:47 PM

Based on a previous request for 18+ Karen fanfiction, the muse struck, and now there is more.  Yeah, this is getting a little weird, but it's more fun than free-roam :)
 
 
Karen, Chapter 2:  Dangerous Business
 
Note:  These events follow from CHAPTER 1
 
So, after I submerged the Panto after midnight, I spent a couple nights living under the bushes with the squirrels, near the beach in Paleto Bay.  [ All night, I was wishing I could get under Karens bush   :p ]   I was beginning to wonder if she had ditched me, but I wanted to be with her so bad, I stuck with the gig, hoping that she would call.  Not that I had anywhere else to go
 
Then Karen called me, and got me set up in her safehouse on Procopio Drive in Paleto.  Not nearly as nice as the Vespucci Beach place it was down-market, older and completely un-hip, just like the neighborhood and just like the neighbors.   :)  But I thought to myself, be lucky youre not in a trailer in f*cking Sandy Shores.  So in a few days, I got the place stocked up, and kept a low profile.  
 
 
The Procopio Drive safehouse:  
 
R8ncZfc.jpg
 
Right away, I needed a car to get groceries and do the errands, so when Karen stopped by in her SUV, she dropped off a wad of cash, and told me to find something that wouldnt stand out.  I walked up the street to Beekers garage to see if they had any repos or trade-ins, and I found a sweet Sabre Turbo.  With the extra cash Karen gave me, I got the Turbo performance modded on the inside, but I decided that getting hot pink pearlescent paint, chrome stripe job, turquoise dollar-sign rims with off-road tires and a hemi air scoop poking through the hood, would probably not be a good way to keep a low profile, so I kept the stock paint job and rims on the outside.  
 
Karen came around a couple of times in the first two weeks, moving in her guns and who knows what else, setting up some electronic sh*t that she didnt bother to explain to me, and then she was gone again, back to the field, with hardly a word, just like in Vespucci.  I wanted her like crazy, but I told myself, this is a real nice gig be happy with what you have; dont f*ck it up.  
 
 
After a couple more weeks, Karen came by after dark, and I assumed it would just be another quick overnight in-and-out, as usual, but not the kind of in-and-out that I wanted soooo much ;) .   Instead, she got a beer from the fridge, sat down at the dining room table, and told me that she wanted to talk to me.  I thought, uh-oh, this is probably the end of it.  Ive heard the we need to talk speech before.  And with Karen, I never even got to first base; not even to the dugout.   :( Thinking that, I needed a beer as well, so I got one, and sat down at the table with her.  
 
 
The fateful dining room table:  
 
0_0.jpg
 
The evening was not too warm, feeling just about right, and the crickets were unceasing in their mating calls, coming through the open window.  The incandescent ceiling light above the dining table lent a beautiful, warm glow to Karens lovely, lightly tanned skin.  I could tell that being in the field sometimes kept her outside in the sunshine (doing recon, surveillance, sabotage, sunbathing, who knows?).  I imagined again how she would look in her bikini. Sighhhhhh.   :p
 
So I planted my butt on the chair and waited to hear the bad news.  She looked me in the eye, and the look was soft, not the usual hardass-on-a-mission glare that she always seemed to have going on.  Then suddenly she broke off the look, the glare came back, and she seemed to be aware of the crickets.  She got up and closed the window, and the crickets were gone.  Everything silent, still, just Karen and I in the room.  
 
Still moving, she hadnt sat back down.  I followed her every movement with my eyes and my full rapt attention.  She reached into her tote bag and fished out one of those new age wave-sound gadgets that people use to put themselves to sleep at night.  She turned it on, set it to the continuous rain sound, almost like white noise, cranked up the volume, and set the box on the kitchen bar next to the radio.  
 
Then Karen sat back down at the dining table, and took her smartphone out of the tote.  The focused, all-business glare was still there on her face.  She touched the screen a few times, held up the phone and looked closely at it, then set it down on the table in front of her, with the screen still turned on.  
 
At that point, she lost the hardass glare, and her look went soft again.  Karen exhaled a small sigh and looked at me.  I realized that I had probably not taken a breath since I sat down at the table.  I tried to relax.  Ironically, even though I expected that this was the end of the gig, my love and lust for Karen were rising within me, and I just wanted to look at her and hear her voice, even it if was going to be for the last time.  She began to talk.  
 
O.P., first I want to say, youre doing a good job here.  You managed the transition from the Vespucci safehouse pretty well.  Sorry about the bushes and the squirrels, but I had to be sure, before we set up this place.  [she said we again.   Ahhhhhh could there be hope for me yet??]    
 
What I want to tell you is that, obviously, Im in a dangerous business.  Because youre an acquaintance of mine [an acquaintancesob   :*(    I want to be so much more], that puts you in danger.  I want to give you some insight regarding what you're getting into if you keep working for me, even if youre just housesitting.  
 
Karen went on, You see what I just did a minute ago?  I closed the window to keep our voices from carrying out into the Paleto night.  I turned on that noisemaker to cover up our conversation, in case somebody planted a bug in here that I cant detect, or has a long-range mic aimed at us.  On this phone, she pushed the phone over to me, Ive got an app that communicates by Bluetooth to an array of Doppler sensors outside the house here, so Ill know if somebody is getting too near.  When I say somebody I mean somebody bad.  
 
I was intrigued, but not too surprised.  I watch the spy movies, too.  I looked at the phone and saw a little set of green dots that looked like they outlined the safehouse and garage.  I supposed that the phone would make some alert sound, and one of the dots would flare red, if one of these sensors triggered.  
 
So what Karen was saying, made sense.  As I moved the phone a bit closer to me to see the screen better, I made a noise like, Yeah, I kinda understand, and took a swig of beer to loosen up my throat, which was dry with mounting tension.  I met her gaze and she acknowledged.  She continued, I set this stuff up, last time I was here.  Its not easy, but it has to be done.  These are the kinds of things you have to do, every day, just to stay alive in this business.  You can never trust anyone, or any situation.  You can never have an exposed flank.  [ I thought, man, I would love to see Karens exposed flanks ]  :sigh:
 
So now we come to you.  Here you are, an innocent, lame-ass-horn-dog, suddenly in the middle of a whole different ballgame, my friend.  [WTF, I thought; lame-ass horn-dog? :*(    Thats what she said to me the first time we met yeah it was true, but being told this again by Karen it was a shock] 
 
W-What do you mean?  I asked, my eyes wide.  
 
Karen smiled.  It was a nice smile, not a mean smile like she probably has when shes about to work somebody over with a flashlight.  She replied, What I mean is, you cant turn your back on somebody in this business, unless you *really* trust them.  Otherwise, youre dead.  Or worse.  
 
She paused.  Her look got a bit more hardened, as she drifted back into her business mindset.  Then she continued, So, how do I trust you?  By the time you showed up at Vespucci answering the LifeInvader ad, I already had you background-checked and cross-checked, and you looked authentic just another normal nobody.  But a background check means almost nothing anymore.  You could still be an FIB mole, or a pathetic screwup being squeezed by the cartel or the Russian mob, or paid off by some rich f*ck like Devin Weston, who meddles too much in the affairs of legitimate federal agents.  
 
Even worse, some rogue FIB asshole like Steven f*cking Haines could be putting the screws to you, like hes doing with his three stooges down in Los Santos.   Hes got some washed-up bank robber from the snow country whos strutting around at Richards Majestic I know you briefly met him making like hes f*cking Tarantino, plus some drugged-up ex-military psycho hilljack from Sandy Shores, and they roped in a young black guy from Davis, who had a life, until he sniped a couple of my co-workers.  Theyve already caused me enough problems.  
 
Karen was on a roll.  She went on, If I had one of Haines lapdogs this close to me, and she momentarily brushed her fingertips on my hand, where I had still been touching the edge of her phone in front of me, so rapt that I hadnt moved.  [she touched my haaaaannnndddddd yeeeessssss!!!!], Id put a bullet through their eye so fast, they wouldnt even have time to think Wait a minute before their brains would be splattered all over the living room wall.  
 
I was just starting to think, Wait a minute when I realized that so far, my brains were not all splattered over the living room wall yet.  Everything stood still for what seemed like a few seconds.  I was looking straight into Karens eyes, still reeling from the dual shock of her gentle touch, and the wave of sudden building panic that I was about to be fired, literally, from this job, and this life, by my employer and my crush, dear Karen.  
 
But the sudden panic was over it happened so quick that the feeling was fading before the full adrenaline pulse got hold of me.  I was already calming down.  But she clearly saw my eyes go wide, and her look instantly softened.  She smiled again and said, Hey, O.P., chill, I didnt mean that I think youre a plant.  Just the opposite, I was going to say, I do trust you.  Dont worry.  Be happy.   
 
She smiled, You know why I trust you?  I dont take any chances.  The Vespucci safehouse had hidden cameras, besides bug detectors and other toys.  If you had any visitors, or planted any bugs, or went snooping around my room, I would have known, and youd already be floating face down in the canal with a broken neck.  
 
[Whoa, I thought.  This kind of talk was fun the first time I heard it, but now its getting a little too close to home]  Then she smiled a bit more, almost like she was laughing internally, recalling a humorous situation.  But I still didnt connect with what was coming.   
 
Karen continued, If you would have rubbed my panties all over your dick and jazzed on my pillowcases five times in one night, with those cameras, I would have known.  Then she broke into a full smile, a wonderful, beautiful, knowing look, directed at me, that made me so happy, even in the dawning awareness of where she was going with this.  She added, Oh, thats right, you *did* jizz all over my pillows and my panties, and you *did* roll around apesh*t in my bed all night, like a ferret in heat.  She paused for a second, The cameras have night vision.  Plus, your morning show was pretty good, too.  
 
She paused and looked at me pointedly, with that confident smirk, but her eyes were soft and met mine, waiting to see my reaction.  I felt hollow inside.  Its a sudden empty feeling, to be caught like that with your pants down literally.  I didnt know what to say, and I broke off my gaze and looked down at the table.  
 
Karen went on, obviously enjoying the humor in all this, I could post that video to my LifeInvader page, with the title, One of my Secret Admirers.  Thatd be a hoot!  
 
I was trying to form some words in my mind, to tell Karen that yes, I made a fool of myself, but its because I really love her and want her.  But she continued talking, So O.P., I have you pretty well sussed out.  Background checks dont tell me anything about a person, the way those videos did.  I do understand you, now, and I do trust you.  Youre just a lame-ass horn-dog.  But youre not a dangerous mole that needs to be put down.  
 
She waited for me to look back up at her.  She said, Dont feel bad, O. P.  Youre kind of sexy when youre horny; so cute, actually, and she smiled widely again.  and youve got stamina.  I like that.  
 
I finally found my voice.  I choked up for a second, but then I said, Karen, Im just gonna say it, since its obvious, I declare it now:  I officially love Karen Daniels.  Since day one.  I want to be with you, emotionally, mentally, carnally, and all the stuff like that.    
 
So it was all out.  I was shocked, embarrassed, and dazed, but relieved.  It couldnt get any worse.  It had to be uphill from here.  She said I was cute
 
Karen reached across the table again and took my hand, which was still near her phone.  This was a whole different side of her, the real woman, not the hardass cop or whatever she was.  She said, So let me continue.  I was starting to tell you that youll be getting into a dangerous kind of life if you stay associated with me.  Even though I like you, and she squeezed my hand [whoa, OK, Im starting to get horny, now :) ], or actually, *because* I like you the best thing you can do is get out of town, out of Los Santos, out of Paleto, away from me, far away, where you wont have any connection to me, and live a quiet life, before you get in any deeper.  [  I thought, all I want to do, is get in deeper ] ;)  
 
My fingers intertwined with Karens.  I brought my other hand over to enclose hers on the table.  She said, The things I do are dangerous, exotic, undercover activities [ I thought, thats what I want to do with her dangerous, exotic activities under the covers ].  The people Im up against are dangerous people [ I wanted to be up against her, and Im not even dangerous :)    ].  You dont know all the tricks that they know, or that I know, so you could easily be trapped by these types, and very bad things would happen to you.  
 
Karen was in full speechmaking mode now, clearly voicing the topics she wanted to say to me when she told me to sit down for a talk.  There was an actual edge of concern in her voice.  She continued, O.P., I dont want you to get caught by these assholes.  F*cking Haines got that psycho trailer-dwelling pervert to torture a suspect they liberated from us, but the worst part was his bullsh*t moralizing after he tortured the guy what  a mind f*ck.  You wouldnt be able stand it, and I couldnt stand by and let it happen to you.  What Im saying is that these dangerous people are dangerous, and whats worse, they have stupid people working for them, and the only things more dangerous than dangerous people are stupid people.  
 
I was mostly getting the gist of it, maybe losing track of some of the finer points, but all I knew is that my body was ready.  I pushed back my chair and stood up, still holding onto Karens hand, as I moved around to her side of the table and kind of pulled her up, toward me, as she rose from her chair by her own intent, as well.  Our eyes were locked, standing face to face, with her hand in mine.  Emotion was welling up inside me like a tsunami.  Karens eyes looked over my face, up and down, evaluating my expression, which was perfectly clear with my amorous intent [read:  horn-dog incoming].  I moved to put my arm around the small of her back.  Karens lips began to part  
 
Suddenly, a loud buzzing sound blared out from her tote bag, which was lying on the table, the buzzing amplified by the tabletop as a soundboard.  It broke the mood like a thunderclap.  Karens expression changed instantly, like brainstem reflex, to a hyperfocused glare, all business.  She yanked away from me and grabbed the top of the bag to open it, and quickly pulled out a pager, still buzzing, but muted now by her hand.  She looked at the number on the pager, and her expression returned completely to her hardass-supercop-on-a-mission.  The moment was totally blown.  My heart sank, back into the sea.  The tsunami was gone.  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH........
 
In the same motion as she raised the tote bag onto her shoulder, Karen pushed me away, and scanned the room quickly for anything she needed to pick up, her eyes not even seeing me, like I wasn't even there.  She spied her phone on the table and immediately grabbed it, and then she was on the move toward the front door, just like that day when she darted out of the bungalow in Vespucci.  
 
I started to say, Wait!! but the words caught in my throat because I knew it wouldnt matter.  But then I thought, I should say something useful, so I quickly exclaimed, Is there anything I need to do?  
 
That stopped her in her tracks apparently saying something which may be relevant to her mission was enough to get through, to remind her that I was actually still there.  With her hand on the door handle, she turned back to me, and said For now, just keep doing what youre doing, housesitting, low profile.  No changes here.  Ill be back in a couple of days.  Ive got a project going on, and I need to take care of something, right now.  If I need you to do anything different, Ill call.  
 
Then, I think, a tiny bit of the memory what just *almost* happened between us, emerged in her consciousness for a second, displacing the reflexive mission focus that had clicked on in her mind as soon as the pager went off.  Her look softened a bit and she added, Everythings under control.  But this kind of stuff happens.  Sorry, but in this business, I gotta be a hardass.  Actually, in almost any business, you gotta be a hardass.  No room for fun.  But sometimes its nice to have a little company, someone you can trust, when things calm down.  
 
With that prescient observation, she turned and rushed out the door, swinging it shut as she ran outside.  I heard the SUV ignition kick in, the motor gunned, and then I heard a brief chirp of the tires on the driveway as she punched the SUV in reverse and out into the street, and she was gone.  
 
Wow.  What a rollercoaster.  I remembered every second of what just transpired, I hung onto Karens every word, and, knowing now how she felt about me, and what she was really like, and anticipating her return, my emotions were high as a kite.  I was feeling emotionally warm, but mentally numb.  Awareness of the surroundings was creeping back into my consciousness.  The white noise that she turned on was now like a roaring in my ears.  I reached over to the box and shut it off.  Sudden, blissful silence ahhhhh
 
I took a deep breath and finally, fully returned to the here and now.  I remembered how the night started, with the sound of the crickets.  I walked over and opened the window, so I could hear them again.  The world felt real again.  Then I slumped into my chair at the table, and I was about to take a big swig of my beer, but then I noticed Karens bottle across the table, and instead, I took a swig from it, tasting her once more.  It would be a microscopic reminder of the first kiss we almost shared, and I could only hope that the attractive force that rose between us, the magic moment, will descend upon us again, the next time she visits.  
 
:inlove:


That was so perfect
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REXX
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#407

Posted 26 August 2015 - 11:56 PM

q4c1z.jpg
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saintsrow
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#408

Posted 27 August 2015 - 12:43 AM

^^

 

h39thrs.png

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#409

Posted 27 August 2015 - 12:46 AM

^^
 
h39thrs.png


Probably best not to know her, OP might get jealous and beat us all up :lol: :lol:
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TCA
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#410

Posted 27 August 2015 - 04:15 AM Edited by TCA, 02 September 2015 - 12:44 PM.

The ones bitching and whining about this thread should develop the habit of not clicking everything they see.
If you hate the karen fanfiction, what are you doing here?

We're not going to tolerate this crap, GTAF is not the place for this.
Get out.

^^
 
h39thrs.png

Probably best not to know her, OP might get jealous and beat us all up :lol: :lol:
Or shoves a flashlight 8 inches deep inside with no lube. With her taking selfies during the whole ordeal.
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#411

Posted 27 August 2015 - 04:33 AM Edited by gil62291, 27 August 2015 - 04:33 AM.

Them lines of codes, polygons and textures though
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Naroon
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#412

Posted 27 August 2015 - 05:06 AM

GTAforums exposing itself as a community full of insecure, overly-judgemental party-poopin' fanboys as usual.

 

Also here's some Karen:

2a9de6-2015-05-13_00001.jpg

 

But lol @ all the flamers in here. Even if OP was totally srs, why the hateful reaction? Oh wait, because gtaforums. Not allowed to have a sense of humor around here I guess.

 

But f*ck Karen though.Total amoral backstabbin' bitch.

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#413

Posted 27 August 2015 - 05:13 AM

Them lines of codes, polygons and textures though

And the voice acting.  Don't forget that.  :)


JohnDoe7125539271
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#414

Posted 27 August 2015 - 03:18 PM

Based on a previous request for 18+ Karen fanfiction, the muse struck, and now there is more.  Yeah, this is getting a little weird, but it's more fun than free-roam :)

 

 

Karen, Chapter 2:  Dangerous Business

 

Note:  These events follow from CHAPTER 1

 

So, after I submerged the Panto after midnight, I spent a couple nights living under the bushes with the squirrels, near the beach in Paleto Bay.  [ All night, I was wishing I could get under Karen’s bush…   :p ]   I was beginning to wonder if she had ditched me, but I wanted to be with her so bad, I stuck with the gig, hoping that she would call.  Not that I had anywhere else to go…
 
Then Karen called me, and got me set up in her safehouse on Procopio Drive in Paleto.  Not nearly as nice as the Vespucci Beach place – it was down-market, older and completely un-hip, just like the neighborhood – and just like the neighbors.   :)  But I thought to myself, be lucky you’re not in a trailer in f*cking Sandy Shores.  So in a few days, I got the place stocked up, and kept a low profile.  
 
 

The Procopio Drive safehouse:  

 

R8ncZfc.jpg

 

Right away, I needed a car to get groceries and do the errands, so when Karen stopped by in her SUV, she dropped off a wad of cash, and told me to find something that wouldn’t stand out.  I walked up the street to Beeker’s garage to see if they had any repos or trade-ins, and I found a sweet Sabre Turbo.  With the extra cash Karen gave me, I got the Turbo performance modded on the inside, but I decided that getting hot pink pearlescent paint, chrome stripe job, turquoise dollar-sign rims with off-road tires and a hemi air scoop poking through the hood, would probably not be a good way to keep a low profile, so I kept the stock paint job and rims on the outside.  
 
Karen came around a couple of times in the first two weeks, moving in her guns and who knows what else, setting up some electronic sh*t that she didn’t bother to explain to me, and then she was gone again, back to the field, with hardly a word, just like in Vespucci.  I wanted her like crazy, but I told myself, this is a real nice gig – be happy with what you have; don’t f*ck it up.  
 
 
After a couple more weeks, Karen came by after dark, and I assumed it would just be another quick overnight in-and-out, as usual, but not the kind of in-and-out that I wanted soooo much ;) .   Instead, she got a beer from the fridge, sat down at the dining room table, and told me that she wanted to talk to me.  I thought, uh-oh, this is probably the end of it.  I’ve heard the “we need to talk” speech before.  And with Karen, I never even got to first base; not even to the dugout.   :( Thinking that, I needed a beer as well, so I got one, and sat down at the table with her.  

 

 

The fateful dining room table:  

 

0_0.jpg

 

The evening was not too warm, feeling just about right, and the crickets were unceasing in their mating calls, coming through the open window.  The incandescent ceiling light above the dining table lent a beautiful, warm glow to Karen’s lovely, lightly tanned skin.  I could tell that being in the field sometimes kept her outside in the sunshine (doing recon, surveillance, sabotage, sunbathing, who knows?).  I imagined again how she would look in her bikini. Sighhhhhh.   :p
 
So I planted my butt on the chair and waited to hear the bad news.  She looked me in the eye, and the look was soft, not the usual hardass-on-a-mission glare that she always seemed to have going on.  Then suddenly she broke off the look, the glare came back, and she seemed to be aware of the crickets.  She got up and closed the window, and the crickets were gone.  Everything silent, still, just Karen and I in the room.  
 
Still moving, she hadn’t sat back down.  I followed her every movement with my eyes and my full rapt attention.  She reached into her tote bag and fished out one of those new age wave-sound gadgets that people use to put themselves to sleep at night.  She turned it on, set it to the continuous rain sound, almost like white noise, cranked up the volume, and set the box on the kitchen bar next to the radio.  
 
Then Karen sat back down at the dining table, and took her smartphone out of the tote.  The focused, all-business glare was still there on her face.  She touched the screen a few times, held up the phone and looked closely at it, then set it down on the table in front of her, with the screen still turned on.  
 
At that point, she lost the hardass glare, and her look went soft again.  Karen exhaled a small sigh and looked at me.  I realized that I had probably not taken a breath since I sat down at the table.  I tried to relax.  Ironically, even though I expected that this was the end of the gig, my love and lust for Karen were rising within me, and I just wanted to look at her and hear her voice, even it if was going to be for the last time.  She began to talk.  
 
“O.P., first I want to say, you’re doing a good job here.  You managed the transition from the Vespucci safehouse pretty well.  Sorry about the bushes and the squirrels, but I had to be sure, before we set up this place.”  [she said “we” again.   Ahhhhhh… could there be hope for me yet??]    
 
“What I want to tell you is that, obviously, I’m in a dangerous business.  Because you’re an acquaintance of mine [an acquaintance…sob   :*(   … I want to be so much more…], that puts you in danger.  I want to give you some insight regarding what you're getting into if you keep working for me, even if you’re just housesitting.”  
 
Karen went on, “You see what I just did a minute ago?  I closed the window to keep our voices from carrying out into the Paleto night.  I turned on that noisemaker to cover up our conversation, in case somebody planted a bug in here that I can’t detect, or has a long-range mic aimed at us.  On this phone,” she pushed the phone over to me, “I’ve got an app that communicates by Bluetooth to an array of Doppler sensors outside the house here, so I’ll know if somebody is getting too near.  When I say ‘somebody’ I mean somebody bad.”  
 
I was intrigued, but not too surprised.  I watch the spy movies, too.  I looked at the phone and saw a little set of green dots that looked like they outlined the safehouse and garage.  I supposed that the phone would make some alert sound, and one of the dots would flare red, if one of these sensors triggered.  
 
So what Karen was saying, made sense.  As I moved the phone a bit closer to me to see the screen better, I made a noise like, “Yeah, I kinda understand,” and took a swig of beer to loosen up my throat, which was dry with mounting tension.  I met her gaze and she acknowledged.  She continued, “I set this stuff up, last time I was here.  It’s not easy, but it has to be done.  These are the kinds of things you have to do, every day, just to stay alive in this business.  You can never trust anyone, or any situation.  You can never have an exposed flank.”  [ I thought, man, I would love to see Karen’s exposed flanks ]  :sigh:
 
“So now we come to you.  Here you are, an innocent, lame-ass-horn-dog, suddenly in the middle of a whole different ballgame, my friend.”  [WTF, I thought; lame-ass horn-dog? :*(    That’s what she said to me the first time we met – yeah it was true, but being told this again by Karen – it was a shock] 
 
“W-What do you mean?”  I asked, my eyes wide.  
 
Karen smiled.  It was a nice smile, not a mean smile like she probably has when she’s about to work somebody over with a flashlight.  She replied, “What I mean is, you can’t turn your back on somebody in this business, unless you *really* trust them.  Otherwise, you’re dead.  Or worse.”  
 
She paused.  Her look got a bit more hardened, as she drifted back into her business mindset.  Then she continued, “So, how do I trust you?  By the time you showed up at Vespucci answering the LifeInvader ad, I already had you background-checked and cross-checked, and you looked authentic – just another normal nobody.  But a background check means almost nothing anymore.  You could still be an FIB mole, or a pathetic screwup being squeezed by the cartel or the Russian mob, or paid off by some rich f*ck like Devin Weston, who meddles too much in the affairs of legitimate federal agents.”  
 
“Even worse, some rogue FIB asshole like Steven f*cking Haines could be putting the screws to you, like he’s doing with his three stooges down in Los Santos.   He’s got some washed-up bank robber from the snow country who’s strutting around at Richards Majestic – I know you briefly met him – making like he’s f*cking Tarantino, plus some drugged-up ex-military psycho hilljack from Sandy Shores, and they roped in a young black guy from Davis, who had a life, until he sniped a couple of my co-workers.  They’ve already caused me enough problems.”  
 
Karen was on a roll.  She went on, “If I had one of Haines’ lapdogs this close to me,” and she momentarily brushed her fingertips on my hand, where I had still been touching the edge of her phone in front of me, so rapt that I hadn’t moved.  [she touched my haaaaannnndddddd… yeeeessssss!!!!], “I’d put a bullet through their eye so fast, they wouldn’t even have time to think ‘Wait a minute…’ before their brains would be splattered all over the living room wall.”  
 
I was just starting to think, “Wait a minute…” when I realized that so far, my brains were not all splattered over the living room wall … yet.  Everything stood still for what seemed like a few seconds.  I was looking straight into Karen’s eyes, still reeling from the dual shock of her gentle touch, and the wave of sudden building panic that I was about to be fired, literally, from this job, and this life, by my employer and my crush, dear Karen.  
 
But the sudden panic was over – it happened so quick that the feeling was fading before the full adrenaline pulse got hold of me.  I was already calming down.  But she clearly saw my eyes go wide, and her look instantly softened.  She smiled again and said, “Hey, O.P., chill, I didn’t mean that I think you’re a plant.  Just the opposite, I was going to say, I do trust you.  Don’t worry.  Be happy.”   
 
She smiled, “You know why I trust you?  I don’t take any chances.  The Vespucci safehouse had hidden cameras, besides bug detectors and other toys.  If you had any visitors, or planted any bugs, or went snooping around my room, I would have known, and you’d already be floating face down in the canal with a broken neck.”  
 
[Whoa, I thought.  This kind of talk was fun the first time I heard it, but now it’s getting a little too close to home…]  Then she smiled a bit more, almost like she was laughing internally, recalling a humorous situation.  But I still didn’t connect with what was coming.   
 
Karen continued, “If you would have rubbed my panties all over your dick and jazzed on my pillowcases five times in one night, with those cameras, I would have known.”  Then she broke into a full smile, a wonderful, beautiful, knowing look, directed at me, that made me so happy, even in the dawning awareness of where she was going with this.  She added, “Oh, that’s right, you *did* jizz all over my pillows and my panties, and you *did* roll around apesh*t in my bed all night, like a ferret in heat.”  She paused for a second, “The cameras have night vision.  Plus, your morning show was pretty good, too.”  
 
She paused and looked at me pointedly, with that confident smirk, but her eyes were soft and met mine, waiting to see my reaction.  I felt hollow inside.  It’s a sudden empty feeling, to be caught like that with your pants down … literally.  I didn’t know what to say, and I broke off my gaze and looked down at the table.  
 
Karen went on, obviously enjoying the humor in all this, “I could post that video to my LifeInvader page, with the title, ‘One of my Secret Admirers.’  That’d be a hoot!”  
 
I was trying to form some words in my mind, to tell Karen that yes, I made a fool of myself, but it’s because I really love her and want her.  But she continued talking, “So O.P., I have you pretty well sussed out.  Background checks don’t tell me anything about a person, the way those videos did.  I do understand you, now, and I do trust you.  You’re just a lame-ass horn-dog.  But you’re not a dangerous mole that needs to be put down.”  
 
She waited for me to look back up at her.  She said, “Don’t feel bad, O. P.  You’re kind of sexy when you’re horny; so cute, actually,” and she smiled widely again.  “…and you’ve got stamina.  I like that.”  
 
I finally found my voice.  I choked up for a second, but then I said, “Karen, I’m just gonna say it, since it’s obvious, I declare it now:  ‘I officially love Karen Daniels.’  Since day one.  I want to be with you, emotionally, mentally, carnally, and … all the stuff like that.  ”  
 
So it was all out.  I was shocked, embarrassed, and dazed, but relieved.  It couldn’t get any worse.  It had to be uphill from here.  She said I was cute…
 
Karen reached across the table again and took my hand, which was still near her phone.  This was a whole different side of her, the real woman, not the hardass cop or whatever she was.  She said, “So let me continue.  I was starting to tell you that you’ll be getting into a dangerous kind of life if you stay associated with me.  Even though I like you,” and she squeezed my hand [whoa, OK, I’m starting to get horny, now :) ], “or actually, *because* I like you … the best thing you can do is get out of town, out of Los Santos, out of Paleto, away from me, far away, where you won’t have any connection to me, and live a quiet life, before you get in any deeper.”  [  I thought, all I want to do, is get in deeper ] ;)  
 
My fingers intertwined with Karen’s.  I brought my other hand over to enclose hers on the table.  She said, “The things I do are dangerous, exotic, undercover activities [ I thought, that’s what I want to do with her – dangerous, exotic activities under the covers… ].  The people I’m up against are dangerous people [ I wanted to be up against her, and I’m not even dangerous :)    ].  You don’t know all the tricks that they know, or that I know, so you could easily be trapped by these types, and very bad things would happen to you.”  
 
Karen was in full speechmaking mode now, clearly voicing the topics she wanted to say to me when she told me to sit down for a talk.  There was an actual edge of concern in her voice.  She continued, “O.P., I don’t want you to get caught by these assholes.  F*cking Haines got that psycho trailer-dwelling pervert to torture a suspect they liberated from us, but the worst part was his bullsh*t moralizing after he tortured the guy – what  a mind f*ck.  You wouldn’t be able stand it, and I couldn’t stand by and let it happen to you.  What I’m saying is that these dangerous people are dangerous, and what’s worse, they have stupid people working for them, and the only things more dangerous than dangerous people are stupid people.”  
 
I was mostly getting the gist of it, maybe losing track of some of the finer points, but all I knew is that my body was ready.  I pushed back my chair and stood up, still holding onto Karen’s hand, as I moved around to her side of the table and kind of pulled her up, toward me, as she rose from her chair by her own intent, as well.  Our eyes were locked, standing face to face, with her hand in mine.  Emotion was welling up inside me like a tsunami.  Karen’s eyes looked over my face, up and down, evaluating my expression, which was perfectly clear with my amorous intent [read:  horn-dog incoming…].  I moved to put my arm around the small of her back.  Karen’s lips began to part … 
 
Suddenly, a loud buzzing sound blared out from her tote bag, which was lying on the table, the buzzing amplified by the tabletop as a soundboard.  It broke the mood like a thunderclap.  Karen’s expression changed instantly, like brainstem reflex, to a hyperfocused glare, all business.  She yanked away from me and grabbed the top of the bag to open it, and quickly pulled out a pager, still buzzing, but muted now by her hand.  She looked at the number on the pager, and her expression returned completely to her hardass-supercop-on-a-mission.  The moment was totally blown.  My heart sank, back into the sea.  The tsunami was gone.  AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH........
 
In the same motion as she raised the tote bag onto her shoulder, Karen pushed me away, and scanned the room quickly for anything she needed to pick up, her eyes not even seeing me, like I wasn't even there.  She spied her phone on the table and immediately grabbed it, and then she was on the move toward the front door, just like that day when she darted out of the bungalow in Vespucci.  
 
I started to say, “Wait!!” but the words caught in my throat because I knew it wouldn’t matter.  But then I thought, I should say something useful, so I quickly exclaimed, “Is there anything I need to do?”  
 
That stopped her in her tracks – apparently saying something which may be relevant to her mission was enough to get through, to remind her that I was actually still there.  With her hand on the door handle, she turned back to me, and said “For now, just keep doing what you’re doing, housesitting, low profile.  No changes here.  I’ll be back in a couple of days.  I’ve got a project going on, and I need to take care of something, right now.  If I need you to do anything different, I’ll call.”  
 
Then, I think, a tiny bit of the memory what just *almost* happened between us, emerged in her consciousness for a second, displacing the reflexive mission focus that had clicked on in her mind as soon as the pager went off.  Her look softened a bit and she added, “Everything’s under control.  But this kind of stuff happens.  Sorry, but in this business, I gotta be a hardass.  Actually, in almost any business, you gotta be a hardass.  No room for fun.  But sometimes it’s nice to have a little company, someone you can trust, when things calm down.”  
 
With that prescient observation, she turned and rushed out the door, swinging it shut as she ran outside.  I heard the SUV ignition kick in, the motor gunned, and then I heard a brief chirp of the tires on the driveway as she punched the SUV in reverse and out into the street, and she was gone.  
 
Wow.  What a rollercoaster.  I remembered every second of what just transpired, I hung onto Karen’s every word, and, knowing now how she felt about me, and what she was really like, and anticipating her return, my emotions were high as a kite.  I was feeling emotionally warm, but mentally numb.  Awareness of the surroundings was creeping back into my consciousness.  The white noise that she turned on was now like a roaring in my ears.  I reached over to the box and shut it off.  Sudden, blissful silence… ahhhhh…
 
I took a deep breath and finally, fully returned to the here and now.  I remembered how the night started, with the sound of the crickets.  I walked over and opened the window, so I could hear them again.  The world felt real again.  Then I slumped into my chair at the table, and I was about to take a big swig of my beer, but then I noticed Karen’s bottle across the table, and instead, I took a swig from it, tasting her once more.  It would be a microscopic reminder of the first kiss we almost shared, and I could only hope that the attractive force that rose between us, the magic moment, will descend upon us again, the next time she visits.  
 

:inlove:

 

You should write a 'Grand Theft Karen' book...

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LieutenantLoserz
  • LieutenantLoserz

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#415

Posted 28 August 2015 - 07:13 AM

The ones bitching and whining about this thread should develop the habit of not clicking everything they see.
If you hate the karen fanfiction, what are you doing here?

We're not going to tolerate this crap, GTAF is not the place for this.
Get out.

^^
 
h39thrs.png

Probably best not to know her, OP might get jealous and beat us all up :lol: :lol:
Or shoves a flashlight 8 inches deep inside with no lube. With her taking selfish during the whole ordeal.

I think you mean 18 inches deep, so far that my tonsils will be playing shadow puppets, but have no fear m8, its all in the guidelines :)
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saintsrow
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#416

Posted 02 September 2015 - 05:57 AM Edited by saintsrow, 20 September 2017 - 04:19 AM.

Karen's back,  bitches!

 

mr8NKUO.jpg

 

 
Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the Karen fanfiction up to this point.  I hope you got a bit of entertainment out of it.  Thanks, Broken Condom Kid and PsychoGamer and others :)  for bumping the thread a while back.  For your noble gesture, you deserve an ending, a resolution, to Karen’s story.  
 
I realize that probably almost everybody in the forum of tired of seeing this topic appear on Page 1 again, but I feel compelled to finish the story anyway.  So, tough luck   :p  I have a couple more chapters to go...
 
 
Karen, CHAPTER 3:  Lonely Nights
 
These events follow from CHAPTER 2
 
 
 
The next morning, in the Paleto Bay safehouse, I was still feeling a bit vexed, but generally warm and happy, after Karen had to rush out abruptly the night before,   :cry:   just as things were getting hot between us.  
 
[I hoped that] I knew where I stood with her, and I was keeping the fridge stocked with beer and other essentials, as I waited with great anticipation for her return.  I had some fun driving around Paleto and the nearby mountain roads in my Sabre Turbo.  Running on the beach in the early morning, doing some swimming, staying in shape for Karen.  Pretty nice life … for now.   :)
 
In a couple of days, Karen called me.  I was just walking back into the house from the beach, unlocking the front door, wondering how many of Karen’s Doppler alarms I had triggered as I came up into the front yard; it was a warm, beautiful morning, birds chirping in the trees, and the usual laid-back Paleto Bay denizens doing their usual daytime business.  
 
Inside the house, our call continued.  She told me to mostly listen, not repeat anything she said on the call, and don’t ask any specific questions.  I know she was still worried about bugs.  “Just good opsec,” she said.  Without being specific, she said she was going to stay in the field for another couple of weeks, to finish the big project she had been working.  
 
“Too many moving parts,” Karen said.  “A lot of things happening in parallel.  I tried doing this as an ‘on call’ operation, and you saw how that turned out, last time we were together.”   I sensed that she smiled as she said that.   I hoped so … I smiled, too.   :)
 
“Before we go any further here on the phone, I’m going to send you a link to an app.  It’s a secure IP voice-video channel, over my VPN.  Any normal conversation that goes through Whiz Wireless gets recorded, decoded, analyzed, tagged, flagged and sent to servers at all of your favorite three letter agencies, in less than 5 minutes.  Hang up now; I’ll send you a text.”  I didn’t have any favorite three letter agencies, but I knew what she meant.  If you say any of the keywords in their bad words database, you might end up on a Merriweather to-do list.  
 
She sent me a link and I installed the app.  In a few minutes, she called me on that new secure app.  It was a video call.  She was all business.  I was so happy to see her face and hear her voice, but she seemed so stern and focused, like the times before at the Vespucci safehouse, so I knew it was not the time to try to flirt.  I played it cool.  Besides, I like her when she’s stern   ;)
 
She was, literally, somewhere out in the field.  I could see that she was under the shade of a tree, and mountains in the background.  [ I wished so much I could be with her, out there. ] She told me to turn on the white noise wave-sound box again, where it was still sitting on the kitchen bar, and to stay close to the noise while we were talking.  ”Good opsec.”  
 
Karen said that she left a black duffel bag in the garage, and she wanted me to get it; and don’t talk on the phone until I get back into the dining room.  I quickly found the bag in the garage and brought it in.  She told me to open it.  I sat down at the dining room table, opened the bag, and I found a micro SMG in a case, with about 30 ammo magazines wrapped in a colorful parrot-print scarf.  I said, “Whoa, this is some serious sh*t!” and then I added, “Nice scarf…”   :)
 
“A little souvenir from a mission a couple of years ago,” she quickly said.  “The scarf, not the gun,” she added.  I quickly sniffed the scarf for a hint of her scent, but I only smelled gun oil.   :dontgetit:
 
Karen continued, “Compared to typical Los Santos weaponry, that micro SMG is hardly more than a noisemaker,” Karen replied, “but it’s easy to use, and I want to get you some minimal protection while you’re there.  I don’t think there’s any problem with the safehouse, but it’s just irresponsible not to be ready to show some teeth, if some troublemakers come around.”  
 
“I was going to set you up with this last time I was there, but, you know, we didn’t get the time,“ and on the little video screen, she really did smile this time, [ Yaaaaayyyyyyy!!  She smiled at meeeeeee! ] and I smiled back.  Then her smile was gone, back down to business.   :cry:
 
I told Karen I’ve fired a few guns before, but I need to practice with this one, get checked out.  I was really hoping I could entice her to come by and show me how to load it, how to hold and aim it, [ Karen standing behind me, steadying my nervous hands in hers as I aim, her warm breath on my neck, her sweet voice in my ear…. sighhhhh ]
 
But she quickly replied, “No, I can’t come there right now; you’re gonna have to do it on your own.”  She smiled widely.  “I know you’re good at that,” and she gave me a look. “But let me show you now, how to load the magazines and how to operate the safeties and set the automatic fire mode.  It’s not hard, but do it just like I tell you.  Don’t do anything before I show you here on the phone.  I don’t want you shooting your nuts off.”  
 
Karen turned the camera around and I saw a micro SMG on a blanket on the grass, with a couple of magazines next to it.  She first showed me how to make sure the gun was completely unloaded, with nothing in the chamber.  Then she showed me where the grip safety was, and made me practice releasing it a few times; same with setting the automatic fire / safety switch.  Then she told me to find one of the magazines that was loaded with bright orange plastic bullets– a dummy magazine – and practice inserting it in the gun several times, until I was good at it.  She told me to practice it more later, after dark, so I could take the magazines in and out quickly and surely, by feel.  
 
Karen turned the camera back toward her.  [Nice.  Her beautiful face ….  It made me smile.]  Without a pause, she went on, “OK, now you’ve got to practice firing it, this afternoon.  Take it out to one of the remote canyons southeast of Paleto to practice with live ammo.  Make sure nobody’s around.  Stay away from Fort Zancudo, and don’t go anywhere near those Altruist f*cks up on the hill in Chiliad Mountain State Park.”  
 
“For targets, take along some of those empty beer bottles you’re probably accumulating in the recycling bin.  But first thing, when you get there, pop in the magazine, set it to semi-auto and then – carefully – fire a few rounds into soft ground to get a feel for the kick, and to make sure you know how to release the grip safety.  And don’t shoot yourself in the goddamned foot.”  
 
Karen continued, “Then set up the beer bottles and try plinking them.  Both semi-auto and automatic.  You probably won’t hit anything; these guns don’t aim themselves, you know.  I just want you to see how hard it is to put the shots where you want them to go, especially on automatic, so you won’t get overconfident with the gun and start thinking you’re some kind of badass.  It’s basically spray and pray.  Like I said, it’s mostly just a noisemaker to keep bad guys from advancing on you, or to provide covering fire.”  
 
“After you’ve got some practice out in the canyon, go back into Paleto and go to Ammu-Nation.  Get the magazines refilled and have them clean the gun.  If they ask where you’ve been shooting, just tell them you were getting rid of some rats in the barn.  They’ll understand that, out in Paleto.”  
 
That was it.  Karen cut off the phone call with a quick smile, but no other pleasantries, and I just sat there for a minute to get it together.   It was about noon.  I drank a beer while I planned a trip out to the wilderness to practice.  I found a secluded spot on the hillside above and to the east of the sawmill.  I drove my Sabre out there, using the GPS, ending up on a really steep, crappy dirt road, which hadn’t looked that bad on the map.  I hiked down from the road to a suitable spot to practice.  
 
Learning to use the micro SMG was pretty easy.  You had to hold the gun firmly to release the grip safety.  I put a few bullets into the ground on semi-auto, and I didn’t shoot off my foot or anything else.  Then I set up the beer bottles.  She was right about the aiming on automatic fire – it’s basically random, shooting all over the place.  Most of the beer bottles survived.  I could empty the whole magazine and not even hit a tree in the forest – at least, not the one I was aiming at.  The hardest part of the whole day was hiking back up to the car, but it was good exercise … and I remembered that Karen said she liked my stamina :)  So I thought that any extra exercise helps.    :^:
 
I got back to Paleto, visited Ammu-Nation, just about closing time, to get the gun cleaned and the magazines reloaded, and I would pick it up tomorrow.  That was the end of that little episode for the evening.  I could smell the gunpowder on my hands, and my ears were still ringing a little bit.  But I did feel a little bit safer now, and I saw how I could maybe get the hang of this dangerous business, over time.  Feeling badass.  Yeah, right.  Now I know what a rank zero noob feels like.  
 
---
 
Karen called me late the next afternoon on the secure app, to check up on my progress and health.  
 
I assured her I was unscathed, and I was pretty good at spraying bullets in a random pattern.  I just wished the gun had larger magazines.  She told me no, they would just jam.  “If you want to fire longer without reloading, dual wield is a better approach,” she said.   
 
Once again, it sounded like the call was going to be all business, no fun   :(
 
I told her I had the gun cleaned, all mags reloaded, and I was keeping it on the nightstand, waiting for action :)
 
She said, “Right … what a disaster that would be …” and she smiled, sweetly.  
 
But she didn’t hang up – she wanted to talk for a few minutes, just to let me know a little bit about what was going on with her, so I would not be completely out of the loop, the way I had always been up until now.  I really felt like, this is a major breakthrough; even though it’s all business, Karen feels the need to share a part of her life, and coordinate with me a little, that I was on her mind, someone to talk to, not just a tool to be activated on demand.  I was feeling pretty damn good about that.  
 
She said that her big project was on track, with all the pieces coming together, just another couple of setups and the big play would go down.  The reason it was taking so long is that, for the dirty work, where there was a lot of petty, chaotic violence, they were using a crew consisting of four overconfident, nouveau riche, former street thugs, living way above their lot in life in luxury apartments down in Los Santos.  
 
“What a bunch of tools,” she complained, “And they all want a bigger cut.  They’re barely worth what they’re getting paid now.”  She said the frustrating part is that they keep dropping out before the operation can start, and then her team has to get them lined up all over again.  
 
In that regard, she also mentioned that, the other main professional that got hired for the operation, who was the one actually responsible for recruiting these street losers, was this wisecracking, motor-mouth asshole who’s calling himself ‘Agent 14’ at the moment.   Karen said the worst thing is getting stuck on a surveillance job with the guy.  “Even if you ignore him, he’s still prattling on about something, for half the night.  He likes to hear the sound of his own voice, and he thinks everybody else should, too.”  
 
I suddenly felt a little jealous, thinking that this ‘Agent 14’ dickhead was getting to spend time with Karen , but she could tell by the way I was listening, a bit too intently, that this concern was on my mind, so she reassured me, “This guy’s just a co-conspirator, part of the team, a free agent that I was not consulted about.  He’s effective at planning detailed ops, but that’s about it.  He’s a friggin’ nerd.” [ I thought, I’m glad I’m not a friggin’ nerd.]   :)
 
 “And a borderline asshole,” she added, "if you don't laugh at his jokes."  
 
I could tell she was busy, and before I could start to steer the conversation to something more personal about us, the phone call was over, in less than a minute.    :cry:
 
I thought about what had happened the last couple of days.  I still didn’t get to see Karen, but the good news is that, I could tell, she was warming up, she cared about my safety, she actually chose to talk to me as a confidant, and I think she got some benefit from letting me into her life a bit.  After another couple of beers, I went to bed happy.   :)
 
 
Stay tuned for Chapter 4 !
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Eggobites90
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#417

Posted 02 September 2015 - 06:45 AM

She's not even hot tho
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TCA
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#418

Posted 02 September 2015 - 12:45 PM

The ones bitching and whining about this thread should develop the habit of not clicking everything they see.
If you hate the karen fanfiction, what are you doing here?

We're not going to tolerate this crap, GTAF is not the place for this.
Get out.

^^
 
h39thrs.png

Probably best not to know her, OP might get jealous and beat us all up :lol: :lol:
Or shoves a flashlight 8 inches deep inside with no lube. With her taking selfies during the whole ordeal.
I think you mean 18 inches deep, so far that my tonsils will be playing shadow puppets, but have no fear m8, its all in the guidelines :)

Yeah, been a while since I played SP lol

L337jonas
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#419

Posted 03 September 2015 - 08:14 AM

i thought this thread was about a car i'd never heard of, and karin was just spelled wrong.

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Cackling Jack
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#420

Posted 03 September 2015 - 12:25 PM

i thought this thread was about a car i'd never heard of, and karin was just spelled wrong.

 

So did I. I don't get some people on this forum....





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