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LordRaijin

The Unofficial I Love Karen Daniels Thread

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saintsrow
5 hours ago, Polynoid said:

You don't walk alone.

 

  Reveal hidden contents

bAzkcsT.jpg

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

IIi8DEb.jpg

 

 

Ooooh, those sexy bare shoulders ... 😛😍 POV shots of Karen in love ... 

 

And you made Karen smile, an amazing and endearing feat of greatness 🙂

 

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Agent 14
Posted (edited)
On 5/20/2019 at 8:47 PM, saintsrow said:
Spoiler


 

 

Hi, here is another Karen chapter.  Sorry, these next two chapters are all talk, before the action picks up again.  

 

This chapter follows immediately from CHAPTER 29

 

 

CHAPTER 30:  Pain from the Past (Part 20):  Brazilian Getaway Special / The Curse of Max

 

 

“’What the hell do you mean??!’ I snapped back at Max, without thinking.  ‘You’re going to die,’ he had said.  It sounded like he’d made a veiled threat. 

 

“I thought I was getting to know Max, to understand his nature, but his sudden statement, ‘You’re going to die,’ seemed completely out of profile.  Was he actually a crazed psycho-killer, trying to warn me, in his more lucid moments?  I already knew he could kill, in the blink of an eye.

 

“It made me realize that I didn’t know him that well, and it was wrong and shallow of me, to assume that I should have had him figured out, in just a couple of days of interaction, under some pretty *unusual* conditions. 

 

“’Let’s keep walking,’ Max answered, simply.  Then he turned and started to walk again, resuming our route toward the bus stop.  I did the same, just a step behind him, and caught up. 

 

 

“He began, ‘I’m going to try to tell you something, without getting blackout drunk, first.’  He paused, and added, ‘We’ll see how that goes.  It’s not promising.’ 

 

“Max didn’t start speaking right away, apparently collecting his thoughts.  We were walking briskly, Max setting the pace.  Now, he was the one running from something. 

 

“The sky was getting darker, and the fine, warm rain was ramping up in intensity.  I pulled out one of the rain ponchos, and draped it over my shoulders, not so much to keep me dry, since my hat was doing OK for that, but more to keep my shopping bag dry.  I extended the other poncho, in its pouch, toward Max, but he silently shook his head, declining.

 

“Though the rain was increasing, neither one of us wanted to stop and take shelter.  Max was ready to tell me something of supreme importance to him, and I was ready to take in every nuance of it.  I liked walking in the rain, anyway.  It feels, smells, and sounds like the world cleaning itself, to start again. 

 

 

[I had no idea, then, that these off-and-on showers were not just from a few harmless, scattered rainclouds, but were waves of increasingly fierce squalls, spun off by Hurricane Leslie*, spawned off the coast of Africa a week earlier, heading due west, straight for us, now about 250 miles offshore.  These rainbands, outwardly spiraling waves of storm and calm, were spinning away from the center of the hurricane as it rotated, churned, building into a monster.  By the time I found out, it was too late…  The cost of ignorance is … staggering.] 

 

 

FOOTNOTE:

Yes, there really was a Hurricane Leslie*, off the eastern coast of Brazil and Bermuda, in September 2012

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Leslie

 

Blame Leslie.  Hurricane F*cking Leslie.

 

 

 

“Finally, Max spoke again.  ‘You asked why I was triggered.  Yeah, it was that parrot shirt.  Stupid fashion choice.  Who knew?  Two weeks ago, I was wearing a shirt just like it, in the favelas down in São Paulo, standing there like the dumb ape that I am, as a young woman, supposed to be under my protection, got shot in the head, six feet in front of me.’ 

 

“He continued, ’There were things I could have done; I could have taken a bullet; I could have made a bigger distraction.  I could have used a little stealth.  I could have just stumbled in, like the dumb ass that I am, and changed the situation, unpredictably; it might have been avoided.  But too late; I just f*cking *stood* there!  Still don’t know why they did it.  Just a bunch of foreign shouting that I didn’t understand, situational dynamics I didn’t understand, and *bang* – that was that – her brains were all over the floor, and there was no going back.’

 

“Max was really on a downer.  It sounded pretty bad, I had to admit. 

 

He continued, ‘When I saw that shirt on the rack, that parrot pattern, it all came back; I was there, again.’  Furious with himself, he growled, ‘Jesus F*cking Christ!!  What a f*ckup!!  Christ!!’ 

 

“Max shook his head, a single, sharp jerk, like he was trying to violently throw a thought out of his mind.  ‘And this was *after* I had resolved to get my sh*t together,’ Max added, ruefully.  ‘That sure as hell didn’t turn out so well…’ 

 

“‘It’s quite a tradition I’ve got going,’ he continued.  ‘If you want to get your woman killed, just hire me to protect her.  She’ll be dead in a week.  Works every time…’  Max’s tone was pure self-loathing, hopelessness, boiling over with violent regret.  His inner torment was a suffocating, deafening cloud, around both of us, now. 

 

“He was going to continue.  I knew I shouldn’t interrupt. 

 

“Max went on, ‘And the icing on the cake is, a few days earlier, I’d let her husband get assassinated, sitting at his big rainforest mahogany desk in his executive office, while I was bumbling around downstairs in the cubicles, like the worthless drunk that I was.  Well, in that case, I was getting strafed with automatic gunfire from every direction, but still … I wasn’t where I should have been. 

 

“’But even that wasn’t enough,’ Max added, bitterly.  Soon after that, in favela gang turf, I was hiding in the street debris, like a rat, watching her brother get burned alive, clueless and helpless.’ 

 

“Max waited a second, then added, ‘I was hired to protect all of them.  They were vacuous rich people, living the penthouse life, floating on the backs of the working poor, but none of them deserved the cruel death that was dealt to them.  I was supposed to be there, to keep that from happening…  At least – that’s what I thought – but it turned out, it seems I was down there to take the fall.  If my old detective’s instincts hadn’t been burned out by booze, maybe I would have seen it in time.  But no.  Total fail.  F*ck lot of good I was…’ 

 

We were both still walking, fast, oblivious to everything but the intensity of Max’s pain.  The rain was getting much heavier.  ‘Godammmmmit!!!’ he roared.  ‘Yeah, I’m a hell of a bodyguard; a real f*ckin’ winner.’  Luckily, there was no one nearby, to hear him. 

 

“Max paused again, then mused, at a normal volume, but his voice full of bile, ‘And those are just the most recent highlights, in my long, glorious career of monumental f*ckups, that so many others have paid for, with their lives.’ 

 

“’My resume is just a body count – a long, fatal list of people who depended on me, and it cost them everything.  If I had an iFruit – which I sure as hell don’t – my entire contact list would be dead.’ 

 

“‘It’s not just people I’m supposed to protect – it’s anyone who has the misfortune to cross my path, to be part of my orbit.  My wife, my dedicated colleagues, people I tried to help, random people who tried to help me … they were doomed, all of them, from the moment they met me.’ 

 

“He paused again, remembering even more.  Then continued, ‘And my daughter!   My daughter!  Not even a year old!  Completely innocent, in this world!  Murdered!  Because of me!!!  What the hell??!!  Even my daughterrrrr!!!’  I could hear repressed, emotional agony rising in Max, as terrible memories flooded in.  Just out of empathy, I was starting to feel it, too. 

 

“’I shouldn’t even exist!’ he growled, his hand going up to his eyes, his fingers pressing on his forehead with so much pressure, the skin went white.  ‘Jesus F*cking Christ!!’ he cursed, again, through gritted teeth. 

 

“I sensed he was going to continue.  He took his hand away from his eyes and looked at me, as we walked.   ‘If you stay with me, you’re going to die.  It’s inevitable,’ he said, ‘it’s just a matter of time.  Somehow, soon.  I’m telling you.  It’s not just some superstition – this is the story of my life.’

 

“Then Max just looked down in shame, and shook his head again.  It seemed like that was the end of his rant.  Then he seemed to come back to his senses, with a purposeful look, focused on our quest, onward to the bus stop. 

 

“Still walking, maybe even faster, in the driving rain.  And we were making good time, both of us trying to run away from our pasts.  As each second of silence ticked by, it seemed more awkward for me to try to restart the conversation, or confessional, or whatever the hell that had been. 

 

“I thought about what Max had told me.  I wasn’t superstitious, either, but nonetheless, it does seem like bad luck, or a bad past, has a way of contaminating the future, if by no other mechanism than setting the expectations for disaster, for self-fulfilling failure, but so subtly, it can’t be overcome by self-awareness, or appeal to rationality, or by simply ‘talking through it’ with a friend, or a shrink.  Some people’s lives are like this – everything just goes wrong, time after time.  It’s probably just statistics, but for them, it might as well be destiny. 

 

“Even being objective, I could imagine, abstractly, that if we got into a police fight, or some kind of mess like that, one of us might be wounded or killed, trying to help the other, in that chaos, to no avail.  Max was so emotionally damaged, so sure he was cursed, that he expected the worst to happen to me, despite our best efforts.  And Max would surely blame himself.  And if Max were wounded or killed, I’d surely blame myself; I was the only reason he was here, in this predicament. 

 

“Knowing how bad ‘the worst’ could be for me, if I were caught down here by the gang scum that I had decimated for my revenge, I was now taking Max’s words quite seriously.  At the hands of the gang, I'be tortured to death.  A bullet through my brain would be the highest mercy, in comparison.  

 

"I couldn’t afford any more uncertainty.  It’s a rule of thumb – when things don’t make any damn sense, go with your gut.  My gut was telling me now, to split up, like he said – there wasn’t any rationality to it, just the gut.  I didn’t want to try to fight what I didn’t understand, and end up a victim. 

 

“My unspoken vow, in the mirror at the secondhand shop a few minutes ago, to make my way back to the US and live an obscure, simple life, also resonated.  My fate was up to me; I wouldn’t, couldn’t, trust it to someone else.  This was a turning point.  I knew, when the time was right, I’d split from Max.  It would be soon.  

 

“Max spoke up again.  I guess he felt he needed to elaborate, after his off-the-wall, fatalistic soliloquy.  He said, ‘There’s at least one obvious reason, why we need to split up, even if I weren’t your walking, talking, bad luck monkey paw.  It’s worse than that.’  Max seemed to be back to his ‘normal’ self. 

 

“He went on, ‘Soon enough, in maybe a couple of days, if not already, they’ll find the car under that bridge, and then they’ll try to figure out if you hitchhiked from there, or if you jacked a car, or whatever.’ 

 

“’Then, they’ll check the buses.  Maybe they’ll follow up with the cops at the checkpoint we skated through, the first night, and then the bus station at the border.  They’ll talk to the cop I bribed, or the bus driver where we first got on, and they’ll say, “Si, si, there was an American woman, suspicious, furtive, hiding her face; she’s probably the killer you’re looking for.  I knew there was something wrong about her.  I could feel the evil.’  Max smirked cynically, as he imitated them.  With a purely mental scowl, I thought, this joke's getting old, now, Max.  It was a little funny, the first time.  

 

“’From that, they’ll figure out that the crazy American killer woman headed north, and they’ll know which bus, and then they’ll be locked in.  If there’s a detective on the case, one who’s got the bloodhound’s instinct, he’ll be hot on the trail.  He’ll follow up on the next bus, to Aracaju, and then here, to Recife.  He’ll check the security cameras, the bus stations, and the traffic cameras, all the things you’re concerned about.  He’ll talk to people.  He won’t let up.  That’s what I’d do – at least, back when I tried to pass for a detective.’ 

 

“’You’ve got a fancy hat to hide your face.  You’re planning to use your new outfits to throw off the scent.  But here’s the problem.  You can probably see it already, right beside you, splashing through the raindrops.’ 

 

“’You can disguise yourself, but on every camera, there’s a big stupid oaf in a ball cap, walking right beside you.  When that hotshot detective makes the connection that we were on the bus together at that checkpoint, that’s the end of it.  I’m like a big, ridiculous clown, dancing with a bright fluorescent arrow, pointing at you, saying, “HERE SHE IS! GET HER!!!”  All they have to do is find me on camera, and they find you.  Game over.’ 

 

“Max had a good point, a killer point.  I hadn’t even been thinking of it like that.  It was so obvious!  Suddenly, there was a hollow in my chest, and my breath got short, as I fully realized the seriousness, the inevitability, the futility, of my escape trajectory.  Exactly like Max said, he could be the one to get me killed, just by trying to help me. 

 

“Well, this changed things.  Now, I was caught in a dilemma.  I had felt I needed Max to provide cover for me, but in fact he was doing the opposite.  What was wrenching, even more so, was that I had lulled myself into a frame of mind, to work some amateur psychotherapy on him, over the next few days, or the next week, to try to get him past the hell that was raging in his mind.  I could see, especially after this latest rant, how badly he needed it. 

 

“Max’s revelations about the parrot-print shirt, his opening up about his shame, his failures, his terrible self-accusations, had felt like the first step to me.  It was a real breakthrough, even though it was for the wrong reason.  I could tell there was a chance of getting through to him.  But that seemed moot, now.  This new context upended the intuitive plan that I had built around us. 

 

“Max spoke again. ‘When we get out of this rain, let’s look at that tour book again.  We should choose different paths.  I’ll go my own way, some random route, different cities, and I’ll make a point of flashing my dopey mug in every TV camera I see.  They’ll follow me, at least for a while.  Meanwhile, you can settle into obscurity, with your tricky little spygirl disguises, on up the coast somewhere.’ 

 

“I completely got what he was saying.  But then I thought, and said, ‘But Max, what about you?  If you draw these bastards to you, what will you do?  You can’t fight the whole police force!’ 

 

“Max snorted a quick chuckle at that, and replied, ‘Ha!  You should have seen me a few weeks ago.  Yes, as it happens, I probably can fight the whole police force, if it comes to that.  Matter of fact, I’m getting pretty good at slaughtering hordes of dirty cops.  That’s about the only personal accomplishment I could claim on my nonexistent LifeInvader page, other than being a wasted drunk, and a talisman of doom.  “Dime-store angel of death – that’d’ be my social media profile bragline.”’ 

 

‘On the other hand, I don’t want to get into a gunfight with any honest cops.  I’ll head inland, to some little obscure towns, and I’ll hide out in the bars.  Hanging out in bars for hours, days and weeks, in a nihilistic stupor, down an infinite rabbit hole of regret – that’s another one of my special skills.’ 

 

“The idea of Max regressing to a hopeless drunk, cut me to the core.  I wanted so much to help him get an upward path for the rest of his life, not sink into wasted, drunken misery.  ‘No, Max, no!!!’ I pleaded.  ‘Don’t even think like that!  I want to help you.  I don’t know how, but I can’t let you go back to that life.’ 

 

“It was my turn to make a speech.  It was coming to me, somehow, from somewhere.  I continued, ‘Let’s do this right; let’s think it through, for a couple of days.  Let’s just get settled at a little obscure hotel near the beach, and let’s just pretend, for a day or two, that we’re not a couple of human wrecks.  Let’s pretend we’re just ordinary tourists.  Roleplay can work, even practiced intermittently.  I did it in training for my undercover work.  You can almost forget who you really are.  Really, Max, let’s give it a shot.’ 

 

“I reached up and touched his shoulder.  It wasn’t anything romantic; I was just trying to make a human connection, to emphasize my sincerity.  Max didn’t even seem to notice.  He looked up ahead. 

 

“We’d been walking so fast, so absorbed in our respective mental anguish, that the bus stop we had been heading to, was already coming up, at the end of the block.  Max stopped, and I stopped, taking my hand away from him. 

 

“’What the hell; why not?’ Max responded.  ‘If we lay low, if we’re lucky, and that hypothetical hound dog detective isn’t on our trail yet, yeah, I agree, it wouldn’t hurt to break up the rhythm, instead of automatically getting on the bus again tonight.  That would be starting to get a little too predictable.’ 

 

“He continued, ‘Besides, the past couple of weeks, I was kind of getting used to the leisure tourist routine, maybe even having a little debate with myself, about what retirement life might be like, if I didn’t run it off the rails like I always do.  Well … that was before you came along, with your grenades and gangsters.  Now I’m seeing the same old pattern emerging…  It’s my highway to hell; I can’t escape it.’ 

 

“’Max!’ I interjected.  ‘I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up your life.  This isn’t a ‘pattern.’  Please, don’t use this as an excuse.  We’re going to relax and take it easy, and roleplay a new, innocent life, for a little while.’ 

 

“’Fine,’ Max replied, ‘I’ll play it your way.  Maybe I’m up for that.  Let’s catch the bus.’ 

 

“We walked a bit further, holding at the last fifty feet to the bus stop, so we wouldn’t have to mingle with the others waiting there.  The bus drove by us, slowing for the stop, and we quickly made our way to it, boarding at the end of the line, after the other passengers. 

 

“The ride, through several more bus stops, to the beach hotel strip, was uneventful.  We got off at one of the first of the stops along the beach boulevard, along with several other passengers.  I had already figured out the walking route that we should take, to search the hotels in the area, to find one with a rear entrance, no cameras. 

 

“We started walking south on the main beach street, falling in with the rest of the tourist foot traffic, which was a little sparse, but just about right.  It was warm and humid.  The rain had let up, during the bus trip, and people were back out on the street, heading to breakfast or brunch, or shopping.  Max was soaked, and my poncho was dripping water everywhere.  I shook it off, and stuffed it back in my bag.  The little glimpses of sun, what few there were, still low in the east, felt good. 

 

“I had a planned loop of about 10 to 12 blocks that we would walk, passing several hotels, and then circling around behind them, to see which ones had rear entrances, away from the front desk.  Most of the hotels were high rises with big names, no good for us.  After several blocks, we came to a couple of places that were on my original search – non-franchised, and small enough that they might not be dotted with cameras inside.  But they still seemed a little too upscale. I couldn’t take the chance that they would have security cams in the hallways. 

 

“After a few more blocks, we turned to make a loop, to inspect the rear entrances of the few smaller hotels on the street behind the main beach boulevard.  Almost as soon as we turned, we walked by a business on the side street, that could help me, though I hadn’t even thought about, until I saw it.  It was a beauty salon that sold cabelos humanos, human hair extensions, and wigs, along with hair styling services. 

 

“Wigs.  Wow, it was almost too convenient.  Had I even thought about it, I’d have assumed that I’d have to search a whole commercial district in Recife, to find a beauty shop with wigs.  But, based on the displays and advertising text on the front window, this store had everything, in the business of fake hair.  The shop seemed to me a little out of place in the tourist district, but it must be a thing here, since there was a similar, smaller salon or salão, right across the street. 

 

“I 'd already stopped, without even thinking, as soon as the window display had caught my eye.  Max stopped too, realizing what I was thinking.  I told Max I was going to see if I could get a wig here.  To be efficient, we agreed that Max would go on our planned route and check out the rest of the hotels, and pick the best one, in his judgment, while I got a wig, or the hair extensions. 

 

“I could tell Max was glad that I didn’t ask him to go in to the shop for me, while I hid out, like we had done in Aracaju.  That was fine with him, he said, because he wasn’t going to be any help in that place.  

 

“‘Besides,’ he smiled, touching the bill on his cap, covering his bald head, ‘they might try to sell me a new head of hair, while I’m in there.’  He passed for a second, then mused, “Maybe an Elvis ‘do would look good…,’ but quickly added, ‘No, maybe not.’  I laughed. 

 

“Max said, ‘I’ll meet you on this street, about five blocks north, no hurry, whenever you get there,’ and he pointed in the general direction.  ‘By then, I should have found a place to stay.  Take your time.’  I nodded agreement, and he turned and walked on, to continue our hotel quest on his own. 

 

“I hesitated for a second, before entering the salon.  I thought, I’d already been seen in the secondhand store, and the bus, so it’s not like I’m invisible.  I’d eventually have to take my chances that the cops would not track down these random places I had been.  But then I remembered, I’m screwed anyway, as long as I’m with Max, the walking neon perp beacon.  I needed to accumulate enough elements of disguise, to eventually hide in plain sight, after I split from Max; I needed the fake hair.  So, in I went. 

 

“It all worked out.  It was a small, friendly place, no cameras inside.  They weren’t too busy yet, in the morning.  A couple of the people there spoke good enough English, probably since the shop was near the hotels and tourists.  I gave the stylists a story about how I got invited to a party, and I needed a different look, a style more like a local girl.  I was telling the stylist helping me that I wanted naturally black hair, but she laughed and replied, ‘Ha ha, all the local girls want to be blondes!’ 

 

“So I thought, as long as I’m here, let’s do it right – I’ll get both black and blonde.  After looking a bit at their inventory, and with her advice, I selected a few to try.  Now was the moment of truth.  I’d have to take off my fancy hat, and let them see my totally tangled hair.  This was going to be embarrassing, but it had to be done. 

 

“I apologized in advance, with another lie, saying, ‘I left my hairbrush and toiletries on the tour bus,’ using the name of a tourist express company I remembered from the tour books.  The stylist couldn’t suppress an ‘Oh!!’ when she saw the mess my hair was in.  She immediately sat me down in the chair, to brush it out.  Then she pinned up my hair, neatly, and fitted each wig on me. 

 

“Looking in the mirror, I selected two wigs, and all the stylists nodded approval.  It’s amazing what a difference a wig makes, in one’s self-perception.  It’s a funny kind of identity displacement; like any costume, it just begs you to change your personality, to suit the new appearance. 

 

“And once again, seeing myself in the mirror, my first, normal context was as a girl just having fun trying on fashion wigs, but then, like before, I remembered why I was doing all this.  I quickly suppressed the thought, though, so they wouldn’t see a dark expression cross my face. 

 

“In addition to the basic black wig, which was barely more than a bob, I got extension wefts and tresses, all the same shade of black, sorted and matched, to create a long hair look, as an alternative.  The blonde wig was already shoulder length, so I didn’t need extensions for it. 

 

“Besides the tape and pins for the black hair extensions, I also bought a hairbrush, shampoo and conditioner, and some incidental cosmetics, which supported my story about the lost toiletry kit; besides, I really needed these things, anyway. 

 

“I paid cash in reals, significantly diminishing my supply of local currency, and they gave me the articles in a store-branded shopping bag.  Everyone there was happy to help, and wished me a fun time, at the fictitious party I had lied about.  With my hair still pinned up, I put my colorful hat back on. 

 

 “As I left the salon, with a shopping bag in each hand, I felt another kind of displacement, like I was coming out of a fashion boutique, onto Portola Drive, in Rockford Hills, winding up a weekend shopping spree.  But instead, now, I was running from a killing spree.  Life is strange. 

 

“I headed in the direction of my planned meeting place with Max, and rapidly walked there.  He wasn’t in sight.  I kept walking, since I didn’t know exactly which block he’d be waiting at.  After a few more blocks, I still hadn’t seen him, so I reversed direction.  I wasn’t worried that he had abandoned me, or anything like that, but I wondered why he wasn’t here.  I’d spent long enough in the salon. 

 

“I walked several blocks south, not quite back to the salon, still no Max, and reversed again.  This time, I saw Max in the distance, coming in from an intersecting street, his appearance distinct, unmistakable, with duffel bag, cap and beard, leaving no doubt.  He was right.  If the police do get wise to him, as my accomplice, he’ll be easy to spot.  I momentarily worried about that.

 

“My eyes were locked on Max.  I unconsciously quickened my pace to reach him.  I was so focused, I almost stepped in front of a bicycle, blasting through the intersection.  That woke me up.  ‘All right, Karen, start thinking,’ I admonished myself.  ‘What the hell are you doing?  You’re going to have to get along without Max, in a couple of days, so don’t get dependent; don’t lose focus on your own objectives.  You don’t need that.’ 

 

“I took a deep breath and consciously slowed down to a normal pace, and looked around me, to break my inadvertent single-minded drive to reach Max.  OK, I was normal again, walking at normal speed, and looking both ways at the crosswalks, so I didn’t get run down by a bus. 

 

“When I came up to Max, I could tell that he knew I was wondering where he had been.

 

“’All the hotels on the main drag had too much foot traffic around the entrances and exits, and they had security cameras watching their backstreet parking lots.  Even the smaller ones,’ Max explained.  ‘Didn’t seem like a private enough environment.  So I went a few blocks inland, to where the real estate isn’t quite so pricy, away from the tourist grazing land.  I figured that I’d find something more like the obscure, random hotel we had in Aracaju.’ 

 

“’It’s a little way from here,’ he added.  I hope you’re still in the mood for walking.’

 

“I didn’t mind the walk.  After 15 minutes or so, we’d gone some distance inland, and further north.  No wonder Max was gone so long.  This was definitely a different commercial and mixed residential neighborhood environment than the beach hotel strip.  Obscure, for sure.  When we got there, Max nodded his head in the direction of the motel, saying, ‘We’re here.’ 

 

“’Motel Eros,’ with a pink stucco façade, painted with a huge graphic illustration, close-cropped, of a beautiful woman’s face, vivid red lips parted, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

 

“No doubting what this motel was about.  He’d found us one of the ‘love motels.’  Good grief!  But it actually looked fairly well kept, on the outside.  ‘Around back,’ Max said, gesturing on down the sidewalk, ‘where the cars are parked.  We won’t have to walk by the front desk.’ 

 

“We went in through the back, into a spacious corridor, and I could immediately hear, from one of the rooms down the hall –faintly, but unmistakably – the sound of a woman faking an orgasm, loudly, obviously over the top.  And on top.  Ha, love motel was right.   Max stopped at one of the doors, keying open the lock, and we walked in. 

 

“The room was dominated by a big round bed, rose gold satin sheets, with a matching, elaborate, ruffled bedskirt.  Step-up hot tub for two, in front of the bed, right in the bedroom.  Stripper pole next to the hot tub.  Huge, arty painting of a reclining, naked woman above the headboard.  A mirror covering most of the wall, floor to ceiling.  Nothing out of the ordinary here.

 

‘Check this out,’ Max said, as he flipped a switch, and turned a knob on a wall panel next to the headboard.  ‘The hotel guy made a point of showing me how this works.’ 

 

“The room light went dim, and several hidden, indirect illumination sources lit up from the corners of the room, and along the border of the full-length mirror, and even from under the bed.  Garish purple, pink and red, making the whole room look like the sleazy one-hour sex nest, that it was meant to be. 

 

“’Oh, god!’ I said with a laugh.  ‘Max, you can really pick ‘em!’ 

 

“Max brought the regular lights back up, and then I noticed, in addition to the ubiquitous stripper pole, next to the hot tub, there was some kind of funny-looking, upholstered, curved piece of furniture in the room, padded in black vinyl, shaped like a narrow, short, miniature armless lounge chair, seemingly made for a midget. 

 

“I saw that the chair, or whatever it was, had handgrips on each side, positioned as though it were meant to be a video gamer chair, specifically shaped for a racing bike video game.  I wondered if it had footpegs in the right place.  Otherwise, the shape made no sense.  Only thing I could see it might be good for, in real life, is sitting on, to pull on your stockings, or to paint your toenails. 

 

‘What the hell is that thing?’ I asked Max, rhetorically. 

 

“He replied, with a smirk, ‘I’ve seen the big brother of this little item in a couple of places, in my travels among the denizens of the criminal underworld.  They’re Kamasutra chairs.  You can imagine what they’re for, but I don’t know how they’re supposed to work.’  Smiling, he said, ‘I guess that’s why they wrote that manual, about four thousand years ago.’ 

 

“Max went on, ‘But this thing, it’s … undersized.  Must be out of a different sex book.  Maybe it’s some kind of Brazilian thing.  I don’t want to know about it, in any case.’  He laughed. 

 

“I shook my head, half embarrassed, and amused.  As Max was starting to tell me what it was, I realized that it looked like something you’d see in a gynecologist’s office, and it made more sense.  Now that I knew what it really was, I shuddered to think what role the hand grips had, in its function.  The stories this room could tell … Yuuuuch.  I hoped they had a good, hot laundry, for the sheets.

 

“I looked around the rest of the room, and asked, ’There’s only one bed, Max.  Where are you going to sleep?’  I automatically assumed that I would get the bed, though I noticed Max had already set down his duffel bag on the rose gold bedspread, when we entered the room.  

 

“’Funny,’ Max replied, ‘I was going to ask you the same question.  The bed is mine.’  He waited, with a Max smirk on his face, to see me make an indignant expression – which I did – but then he continued, ‘Don’t worry, I booked two rooms.  I told them my swinger friends were coming in later, and we’re all going to have a two-day orgy.  I have the room next to this one.’  He pointed to a doorway to the adjoining room, on the wall opposite the huge mirror. 

 

“Bottom line is that the motel and the room looked like it would work fine for us, for a two-day stay.  Max had done well on his search, to find an ideal entry-exit situation, where we could come and go without being seen on camera, and with a low chance of bumping into people who could remember me being here. 

 

“It would be a bit of a trek to the beach, but that wasn’t going to stop me.  Now I had my mind set on getting lunch, later, at a little open-air cantina, plastic chairs and wicker tables, under a palapa on the sand, lazily hanging out there while downing a few cervejas, then taking a long walk with Max on the beach, by the water’s edge, roleplaying, pretending that life is normal. 

 

“…and, meanwhile, I’d be trying to get inside Max’s head and heart, to make him see the hope he could still have in his life, if he would just free himself of his terrible past.  Not too much to ask, for an afternoon… 

 

                                                                                ---

 

 

Stay tuned for CHAPTER 31 !!

 

 


 

 

What in the blue hell is this?

Edited by Spider-Vice
hid large quote

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PetrolCB
2 hours ago, Agent 14 said:

What in the blue hell is this?

Not only that, but you quoted the entire f*cking thing. 

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Agent 14
17 hours ago, PetrolCB said:

Not only that, but you quoted the entire f*cking thing. 

I'm no internet savy if I knew how to make it shorter I would've lol

17 hours ago, saintsrow said:

 

This will make more sense, have more context, if you start at the beginning 🙂

 

First post by OP

 

Beginning of the Karen saga in this thread

 

The Karen saga, "A Life of Danger," in the Writers' Discussion Forum

 

👍

 

 

I'm not reading all that lmao it was already a total drag scrolling through that one post but thank you.

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saintsrow
3 hours ago, Agent 14 said:

I'm no internet savy if I knew how to make it shorter I would've lol

I'm not reading all that lmao it was already a total drag scrolling through that one post but thank you.

Totally understand and appreciate this.  It's a hell of a slog - the whole thread, and the Karen saga.

 

Thanks for reading though the chapter.  I agree that these recent chapters are tedious. 

 

Only thing I will say is, the first chapter (same link as above) is a bit more fun, and in the spirit of the thread.  🙃

 

 

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saintsrow
On 5/26/2019 at 12:44 PM, Polynoid said:

You don't walk alone.

 

  Hide contents

bAzkcsT.jpg

 

 

  Hide contents

IIi8DEb.jpg

 

 

@Polynoid  Here is your chance for greatness:  Snapmatic Contest / Theme: Erotica/Sexy 👍  Or if not greatness, at least 10 bucks 😛

 

 

 

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Kiyone_Alien_Cop
On 5/26/2019 at 4:44 PM, Polynoid said:

You don't walk alone.

 

  Reveal hidden contents

bAzkcsT.jpg

 

 

  Reveal hidden contents

IIi8DEb.jpg

 

Link of the Karen Mod?

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Philphuge

I'm doing a Karen Daniels story for those who enjoy reading about our online characters doing the do.

 

-My character name is Phil Phuge & he's a a 21yr old male WHO is a pr0nstar turned mayor.-

 

The day is Monday January 1, 2011. Karen has flown in from LC. She hears mayor "phil phuge" is back in town and his name surrounds controversy. Karen immediately gets mayor phil number from his publicist. Karen texts Phil "hey phil its fib Karen wanna meet and so I can be introduced to the city? Xoxo 😂" Phil immediately responds "YES" to her text. Karen replies "where?" Phil says "lets meet at burger shot lol no paparazzi" Karen response is immediately "YES"

 

Phil enters the fast food joint, Karen has a table waiting. Karen sees phil and says "oh my you're taller in person!!!!!!" Phil says " yes I'm a former pr0nstar I have to be big" 

 

Karen & Phil discussion goes from lawyers to police to social justice to what Phil's house looks like. Phil invites Karen to his place for a "drink" Karen agrees.

 

It is now 9:00pm on a Monday night, Karen can't drive home because she is tipsy. Phil says "Karen, you wanna sleep in for the night? There's plenty of room under the covers no need for pajamas" Karen says "f*ck yea phil phuge" Phil's Johnson gets happy (uh oh) Phil and Karen both share the same bed until about 7AM. Karen wakes up laying on Phil's chest, phil says "Karen, did we?" Karen says "No, the orbital cannon was watching us!" Phil gets scared.

 

Karen says "dont worry it won't launch" but then....... They hear a knock on the door. Phil gets out of bed and runs to the door. 

 

Phil opens the door

 

It's Steve Haines,Agent 24, and Martin come for a gangbang. Phil says "what?" Steven Haines responds "last night Karen & you signed a sextape contract, you both agreed for it to happen this morning" 

 

Phil gets anxious

Phil gets hard

 

Karen sees phil masterbedroom door open, its phil & the three men naked and hard ready to plow sweet Karen.

 

 

Stay tuned for part 2

 

 

 

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whywontyoulisten

Oh dear.

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IceDree

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Kernel

what the actual living f*ck did i stumble upon

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PNutterSammich
6 hours ago, Kernel said:

what the actual living f*ck did i stumble upon

Only the best thing since sliced bread.

 

I suggest you search out her feet pictures. It will change you, I guarantee it. 

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Kernel
9 hours ago, PNutterSammich said:

Only the best thing since sliced bread.

 

I suggest you search out her feet pictures. It will change you, I guarantee it. 

Thaaaanks, but I think I'm good.

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Taterman
9 hours ago, PNutterSammich said:

Only the best thing since sliced bread.

 

I suggest you search out her feet pictures. It will change you, I guarantee it. 

Links?  🤒

 

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Lance Mayhem
Posted (edited)
18 hours ago, PNutterSammich said:

Only the best thing since sliced bread.

 

 

 I would have questioned this statement, but, given your forum username, I will concede that sliced bread is also good (despite not having breasts*). 

 

 

 

 

 

*usually 

18 hours ago, PNutterSammich said:

 

 

Edited by Lance Mayhem
Showed up twice in my post, and now I can't remove the second appearance of the quote. I lose at the internet.

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Polynoid
On 7/1/2019 at 11:23 AM, Taterman said:

Links?  🤒

 

Page 20.

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theNGclan

I want Karen to smother me with her ass affection

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Voodoo-Hendrix

Karen took the f*cking kids.

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lowriderlife63
Posted (edited)

   34txhi.jpg                                                                                                                                

Edited by lowriderlife63

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Philphuge
On 5/11/2018 at 7:29 PM, PeterParkerHUMANSPIDER said:

 

Pl-pQyqPRk-tT0DrTY1AJg_0_0.jpg

 

XMPE2C_qlEG-aaA9J8Qk6g_0_0.jpg

 

 

These images will motivate my beginning novel of Karen story

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MrARCO

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Standard Deluxe 59

I always thought this thread was a little on the strange side. But holy crap, the strangeness meter went from like 7/10 to 23/10 with those recent, um I guess that guy's recent fantasies. :bored:

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UndeadPotat0

She a snacc. 

What tf did I just walk in on? 

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Ryhan'ZFX
On 5/23/2019 at 12:40 AM, Polynoid said:

When you want to have something done, you have to do it yourself.

(Spoiler for mild erotic content.)

 

  Hide contents

 

  Hide contents

DayR2PP.jpg
 

 

f*cking hell bruh! that's hot! while i wait for the ''SFM'' to finish,  i need the link of whatever that wonderful mod or edit that makes Karen more desirable, pls i need it!

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repl0id

next dlc speculation thread brought me here, and im glad it did.

 

***unzips***

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wester33

 

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LodwigRedemption

Why is a post about Karen f*cking Daniels 32 pages long explain gtaforums

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