Callipygia, a State of Mind

Callipygia is a place, or maybe just a state of mind, for if you go there,

and partake,

you will become changed...forever.

Stephanie Daniels, 28, journalist for the Sheyenne Eagle, asks only for a home, a job, a little fun once-in-awhile and someone who truly loves her. Her insensitive boyfriend, Billy, does not. Lately, women have been on her mind, a lot she finally comes to realize. Her editor, Norm, sends her to the South Dakota Black Hills, where a large number of women have disappeared. Rumor has a lesbian sex slave camp hidden in the forest. After 2 months she has no good leads. She's becoming discouraged when Megan appears and takes her to Callipygia, a place with a humanistic goal but questionable methods. Out of contact with her editor, Stephanie soon finds herself responsible for two pregnant women, and wondering if her job still awaits her.

Contact information and review from an Amazon reader at end of post. (Sorry, meant to get it out 9-15-2012, 9-16-2012 instead.)

Prologue:

 Stephanie Daniels felt her mouth fall open. She had just received the shock of her young life.

     “We want to create a more sensitive society,” Megan added.

    My God. Stephanie’s mind flew to the interviewed men with stories of being used as studs. She had believed them, yes, at least believed that they really believed it, but had also sometimes considered them quite humorous and chauvinistic. Stud service. What a laugh. But no longer.

    “Oh, we aren’t like Hitler—“ Megan began.

    “Why aren’t you? Do the men have a choice in the matter?”

    “Well, not really. But we don’t force them, exactly.”

    “My God, Megan,” Stephanie pushed away, “Meg, I can’t stay here.” She moved to the tent flap, wriggled her way through, and then fully realized she was in deep forest with no idea which direction to go.She hadn’t even kept track of their direction yesterday. Just not thinking clearly at all.

    “I can’t let you leave, Steph,” Megan appeared at the tent flap, dragging her backpack.

    “You can’t stop me, Meg.”

    “Yes, I can.” Megan slipped through the tent opening, reached into her backpack, and produced a very small handgun, “You must not leave, Steph.” She introduced a cylinder to the barrel and began twisting it on.

Chapter 6 Interviews

By mid-September, Stephanie had interviewed many of the families of the missing women. No information surfaced except confirmation of Norm's original statistics about the unusual ages of the women, which went along with what Robbie had told her about wanting older women for prostitution. She considered going to the law with her findings, but of course her findings were not official, and, likely, with Robbie out of the picture the disappearances would stop anyway. And even if more people were involved, which was likely, surely they would now move on to another part of the country. Not much she could do about any of that.

She also had interviewed all but one of the men abducted by the legendary Dakota Amazons, by phone and most also in person. Eleven in all, six bachelors, five married, all well-built specimens of the male half of the species, and all upstanding citizens. Whatever that meant. Oh yes, and all perfect gentlemen.

Yet all had allowed themselves to be picked up by unknown women.  Not at bars though, and that fact had been their main saving grace, their main defense that they truly were upstanding citizens and gentlemen. Especially the married ones. No, the unplanned meetings always took place at tourist traps, shopping malls, nice restaurants, even in the men’s own places of business.

Today the last interviewee and the most recently abducted. Dressed in bluejeans and white top with sleeves reaching to her elbows and a dark earth-tone vest, Stephanie was trying to look basically like a tourist, and waited for the man in the restaurant of the Select Best Motel in Spencer, Wyoming, the fringe of Norm's sixty-mile radius.

From her booth she had full view of the parking lot. A forest-green BMW convertible pulled in. A tall man emerged, looked in all directions, as they all had, as if feeling guilty of something, then stepped from between parked vehicles and walked quickly toward the motel.

Little doubt this was her man. Stephanie smiled to herself at his actions, then took two deep breaths through her nose and released slowly. She had learned to breathe through her nose long before Robbie. Here the technique was for relaxing her whole body, an exercise meant to help her composure. No matter how censurable the man looked and acted, as they all had, she didn't want to break out laughing.

With sober face and one more glance behind him, the man pushed through the outside door, appeared to look at himself in the reflective glass, and brushed his hair. Oh yes, meeting an unknown woman he wanted to look his best. Hmmm. Maybe not so censurable. Had their roles been switched Stephanie guessed she would have brushed at her hair too.

Even so she had to stifle a chuckle, and took another quick breath through her nose. What was happening to her? Was she beginning to hate all men? Hate was not the word she didn't think, but the interviews with all the men, not just the abductees, had opened her eyes. Most had hit on her, and all had appeared self-serving, stuck on themselves, just plain hot shit. But hate them?

No, too strong. And she kept falling back to Norm. Norm was a good man. There were some. But she had not met any lately. And this guy—just noticing her, not smiling—did his face color? Was he embarrassed at the subject of their meeting? Was it possible he really was a gentleman and upstanding? Was this one of the married ones?

For a second Stephanie felt her own face coloring as unplanned thoughts about a possible future personal relationship raced through her. His eyes were soft-looking, he had a gentle expression, and so damn well-built and handsome. She tried another deep breath. It choked her. She coughed.

Shit!

"Ms. Daniels?" The man stopped at her booth.

"Yes." She grabbed her napkin and swept it over her mouth, cleared her throat, stood, extended her hand, "Ramsey?"

"Yes. Ramsey." He gripped her hand.

It was warm. Soft. She wondered if he did any physical work, then chided herself for wondering something that had nothing to do with the subject of the interview ."You said on the phone that I don’t have to reveal my last name."

"No, of course not." Why wouldn’t you want to? Do you have something to hide? Are you an asshole? She again chided herself for the unprofessional thoughts. What was wrong with her? This man was a gentleman, and so damn good-looking, "Please, sit down, Ramsey."

They slipped into the booth across from each other. She thought he held onto her hand longer than necessary, which both irritated and intrigued her. A waitress came. Thank goodness. They both ordered coffee, he a caramel roll, she whole wheat toast. Then small talk ensued about the weather, and she asked about his BMW. A mistake, if she was looking for his good side, because the man obviously was in love with his vehicle.

Their coffee arrived in a quart-sized covered pitcher, then their food. Likely the waitress wouldn't approach again unless asked, so Stephanie made her request, "So, Ramsey, would you tell me of your experience, please?"

"You mean with the Amazons…."

Did a smirk, or something, cross his face? She supposed so, and it probably was harmless. After all, depending on how one looked at it, a great deal of humor could be seen in what had happened to him. "Yes, I believe we're referring to the same thing."

"Well," he rolled his eyes and glanced at the ceiling, then shook his head. Two short shakes to each side, something she had seen Billy-boy do when describing women he had met during his short jobs, another subtle way of putting her down. She guessed what was coming from Ramsey. "This great-looking babe walks into my office one day—I'm in real estate—and says she's interested in buying a small rural property."

"Can you describe her?" Stephanie removed a pen and notebook from her purse.

"Yeah, fabulous brunette curls, clear down, uh—oh, several inches below her shoulders, really great-looking hair."

She could feel him looking at her own hair, which was curled rather nicely that day, she thought, but she didn't look up, "Anything else?"

"She was about, oh, five-feet-eight or nine, slim, but no way was she skinny. No way."

Stephanie looked up. The man appeared lost in thought. "What about her clothing? Dress? Jeans? Business suit?"

"Sorry." He looked sad, like he felt he had really lost something, "I don't remember…, not a dress, but, she did look professional."

"But nothing more about her appearance?"

"No, nothing…, just that she was so…” He let out a shallow breath, his eyes looked wet for a second or two, “Well, you know…."

"All right. She came in, then what?"

"We didn't talk long. She said she had some other errands to take care of, but could we talk further at her motel? And, of course, that was all right with me."

Of course. Stephanie no longer wondered if the man was married or single. She wouldn't want him.

"I guess it did occur to me to wonder if I might be getting picked up. But hell, I'm single, and there was a possible sale in the offing, so, yes, I went to her motel."

At this point in the men’s stories Stephanie had always just as soon not heard the rest, but knew something different could possibly come to light so she never stopped the men from telling all.

"She met me at the door dressed in the whitest, sheerest, negligee I ever hope to see in this life. I mean, I thought I had died and gone to heaven."

"What about right then, Ramsey? You still don't remember anything else about her appearance?"

"She had red lips, and I think they were natural. I mean I think she wore no makeup at all, just like under the negligee. Nothing. A natural beauty." He shook his head, "But by now I was drooling, Ms. Daniels." But his face had gone serious, "I admit it. I was taken for a ride. But her sex appeal was simply overwhelming. The only thing I remember for certain is that she was beautiful."

His demeanor had changed. Stephanie suspected that he did feel some guilt and remorse, not that he thought he had done anything wrong. Well, not that she thought so either, exactly. But that he had allowed his hormones to go completely into overdrive. Maybe he wasn't such a terrible guy after all.

"I did show her some available properties, and we did discuss them. But it wasn't long till she just asked point blank if I wanted to go to bed with her." He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

"And then?"

"Well, I just peeled off my clothes and jumped into bed with her. And that's the last time I saw her face. Hell, I don't even remember the prick of the needle, and my adrenalin was already racing so hard that I barely remember the jet ride."

"Jet ride?"

"Yeah, speed. High-speed adrenalin. You know, barbiturates. Haven't you ever been put to sleep in a hospital, for surgery?"

"No, I guess I haven't."

"You have an experience to look forward to then. It's like a motor racing, it's like your head becomes part of the engine, it's like a first kiss, a first love."

Now Stephanie knew. She had experienced that ride, but so far back, definitely not with Billy, and wondered if she would ever experience it again.

"But, about to kiss that gorgeous babe I was already on the jet ride, so when the needle hit," he opened both hands and arms, "Well, I just considered it part of the ride."

So basically the man was human. He had been taken advantage of, gotten his genes stolen, and then got dumped on a lonely country road. With more compassion she listened to the remainder of his story. Waking up, handcuffed, blindfolded, a blood draw, then he walked to a vehicle, got a ride to somewhere, then he had to walk again, then the needle again, and another jet ride. Then later waking up, strapped down and still blindfolded. No voices except to give him orders .'Get up.' 'Walk.’ He swore being prodded with a gun barrel. 'Remove your clothes.’ ‘All of them.’ 'Lie down.’  'Get an erection—' "I couldn't believe it." He laughed, very human-sounding, "I mean, what did these babes think? That I could just do that? Because they told me to?"

"So you didn't?"

"Oh, I did all right. It's not like I was fearing for my life or anything, even if that was a gun in my ribs."

"So you did."

"Yeah. But I got a little help, ya know? With a mouth," he took a breath, glanced away for a second, "I just hope that mouth was feminine. But I have no reason to think there were any males around. After I got," his eyes stared for a second, his head nodded forward, twice, his lips tightened, "the erection, they greased me good. Then I could feel another person climbing onto whatever I was laying on. Goddamn it, it better have been a woman." He took another breath, his eyes got fixed again, he looked down, "I hope it was that gorgeous brunette."

He got quiet then, put his hand over his mouth, continued to stare, glanced out the window, then went on, "And I had an orgasm all right." He laughed, slightly, "I've never gone in for bondage things like that, at least I assume that sort of thing would be called bondage." He glanced at her, as if she—a journalist, or was it because she was a woman?—should know.

"Yes, Ramsey, I would say, probably, bondage."

"Anyway, being blindfolded, tied down, helpless, well, it was the most explosive orgasm I've ever had." Again he got quiet, then finally went on to tell he remembered one hand-fed meal, a gentle feminine voice from the one feeding him, then a walk, "It was through woods, that I can guarantee you."

"How so?"

"Smells. I can't say what I smelled, but it was woods for certain sure, and quite a ways, miles anyway. And then another ride, and then they opened the door, told me to get out, then untied me and told me to leave the blindfold on—Oh, yeah, and then she poured beer all over me, even in my hair. Cripes….”"

"Did anyone ever hurt you?"

"No. Except for the needle, which didn't hurt that much, and then of course my pride."

Of course. "So how do you feel about your experience, Ramsey?" Stephanie leaned toward him, "I mean how do you really feel?" She hoped he would say something profound.

He didn't. "Well, hell, all they had to do was ask. I would have given my sperm to all of'em, if that's all they wanted. They didn't have to kidnap me."

Of course not." Would you press charges, if you could?"

No hesitation, "No. She—they, whoever they were—gave me the greatest orgasm ever."

And that was how all the interviews had gone. Even men not abducted—but had heard about her interviews—had sounded like they wished they would have been. One even volunteered his genes. That was, if she ever broke the story, and the women—whoever they were—still wanted men. But Stephanie doubted the women—whoever they were—would ever call for volunteers.

****

Stephanie continued to travel within Norm's sixty-mile radius. She interviewed more families of the missing women, she rented cars or hitchhiked, changing to whatever clothing seemed appropriate depending on who she interviewed. She visited liquor stores, bus depots, video arcades and any other place known for sprouting gossip and stories. She received propositions from other recruiting pimps, cowboys, tourists, bikers, local lesbians, and uncovered story after story about the Dakota Amazons .But nothing with real substance.

By late-September she had sent several discs of article notes to her newspaper mail box .But it appeared the legend would exist only as that. A legend.

It had taken time to catch him home, but the break-up phone call finally reached Billy .He had protested, whined, threatened to track her down. But surely he wouldn't even if he could. Surely he didn't care that much, and she knew he had no money. Money, if no other reason, would stop him. But, she realized, money would also bring him, as he had nothing without her, at least nothing he was willing to earn himself, and she felt thankful she had left her car at her newspaper parking lot with orders not to let Billy have the keys.

And each little contact she had with a man added to that change she felt growing inside her. That change she still refused to acknowledge, again, even in the privacy of her own mind.  But it was there, in her subconscious. And she knew it involved desiring women over men. And she knew that some occurrence, the meeting of some certain person, some woman, would bring everything—including honesty to herself—crashing from her subconscious. Whether she was ready, or not.

At least she was beginning to find herself hoping something like that would happen. And soon.

Chapter 20 Hesper's Welcome

"So you want to be a Callipygian." Hesper's question seemed to Stephanie like a blunt statement.

"Well, I don't think I've said that, exactly."

"Oh?" Hesper's right eyebrow raised, but the gaze remained steady, lips closed.

She suspected the woman could be quite pretty if she would just smile. "I don't mean I wouldn't. I just need to know more."

"You do know that just women live here."

"Yes."

"Do you think that's somewhat strange?"

"Not really. I've had my own problems with men, most of my life, really." Stephanie thought for a second. All her life, "So I guess I can survive without them for awhile."

"I hope so. Because it will take some time before we'll—that is, I—before I will trust you enough to let you go back into the world, for sure if you want to go alone. Have you thought about that?"

"I didn't when Megan first told me about you here, but I guess I have since."

"How strongly? Do you consider yourself a prisoner?"

"Somewhat."

"You are, Stephanie. Although I don't care for that word." Hesper gazed at her quite calmly. Stephanie could only consider it a study, an examination of her own expressions, a body language study, "I would rather use the word 'guest,' and I'd rather you did too. And who knows? You might even come to really like it here."

"Oh, I do, and I really like Megan, and Betsy, she seems really nice, and Adrienne, well, she's a little hard."

"She has to be. She's in charge of our security."

"Yes, well, I'm sure Adrienne is very nice too, when she isn't carrying that gun."

Hesper's mouth opened slightly, a near smile. The eyes remained steady, like a hawk's, a female hawk's, "And how about Hesper? What do you think of her?"

"She's hard." Stephanie did not hesitate a second, "But, there again, I suppose she has to be too."

Hesper nodded, then got up from her desk and walked to the window, stood with her back turned, legs slightly spread, a dark shape in a sea of light. In a few seconds Stephanie's eyes adjusted well as they could, then began exploring every square inch of Hesper's body, every curve and every valley.

"Megan says you'll do some writing for us."

Her tone with the word 'writing' caused a little twitch in Stephanie's stomach. She felt glad the woman was facing away, "Yes, I know how to type. I want to do something to earn my keep here."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Stephanie."

Hesper remained facing the window. No way could she know. But she could suspect. But why would she suspect? And why wouldn't she? After all Stephanie was here by chance, like Megan said. All others had been cleared through women's shelters. So why wouldn't Hesper wonder, and, suspect, something? Maybe Xavier called her on the CB with his suspicions. That is, if he really did have suspicions. But maybe his suspicions, too, were all in her own mind. She wished Hesper would go on with the interview. She got her wish.

"Are you a lesbian, Stephanie?"

She barely could believe what she heard, "What?"

Hesper faced her, "I said, 'Are you a lesbian?'"

"I…," one palm opened, then closed, "No."

"You aren't sure, are you?"

"No." Stephanie looked at the floor.

"How long have you had, oh, different feelings?"

"I don't know. Maybe all my life. But more recently, and more strongly, about a year."

"And you have no doubt of different feelings, do you?"

"No."

"That's very honest, Stephanie. You've probably never been spoken to like this before, have you?"

"No." She shook her head and faced Hesper again. She felt trust for Hesper inching into her.

"Have you ever really, truly, loved a man?"

"I…I don't think so." Stephanie shook her head negatively, heard and felt the catch in her own voice.

"How do you feel about lesbians?"

"I don't know. I do know I don't look down on them."

"That's commendable." Hesper kept up her quiet gaze, "Do you think we're all a bunch of lesbians here?"

"No, I mean, I don't know. It's none of my business."

"But it is, Stephanie, if you're going to live here. Aren't you afraid of being raped by a woman, even gang-raped?"

"I don't know how much that happens, out in the world, but I'm sure it does not happen here."

"You're right. It doesn't happen here. And as far as 'Are we lesbians?' I don't know that either. But women do love each other here." Hesper continued with her quiet gaze, a calm study again, as if body language, "Not officially. That's not why we're here, but I do know it's happening." For the first time Hesper's voice faltered. Stephanie could only think of Adrienne being Hesper's lover, and that, right then, they were separated. She hoped they would get back together.

"Megan joined our original group last," Hesper went on, "She knew about our plans for Callipygia from the first, but only came early last summer. I guess she thought she could do more for women in her shelter. But it's a losing battle out there, Stephanie. Shelters can have secret locations but husbands can still find their wives, and even with restraining orders men can still get close enough to murder their wives." Hesper hesitated, maybe remembering her own losing battle as an abused wife, "When Megan arrived she asked for that room next to the corner, and nobody has lived next to her. I know what she went through with her husband but that's not my place to tell you. What I'm saying, Stephanie, is that if you and Megan are together, or get together, in whatever way, you don't have to worry. It's only the business of the two of you."

A few seconds passed. Hesper returned to her desk, sat on the corner, for a second reminding her of Norm, "The Crazy Horse monument can be seen from here, if we climb a bit. He was a great chief, a great warrior. His enemy was the white man. All white people I suppose, in fact all civilized people. When we came, his way of life disappeared, never to return again. But he never surrendered, never signed a treaty, never entered a reservation. A white trader taunted him, 'Where are your lands now?' The chief, so the story goes, pointed to the horizon and said, 'My lands are where my people lie buried.'"

Hesper stood again, "Our enemy is the white man, too, Stephanie, or, more correctly, any man. And enemy is a poor word. But if men could they would halt what we're trying to do here. But they won't halt it. They can't. If not here, if not now, if not us, then others will eventually succeed. I use the Crazy Horse analogy because, like him, if we die here, we likely will lie here."

Hesper again studied her, then walked to her chair and extended both hands. Stephanie grasped them, and rose. They stood facing each other, holding hands, "We depend on each other, Stephanie, for whatever needs we have."

Stephanie felt her face trying to smile, and saw Hesper's was too. Then Hesper's mouth broke into a full, showing-teeth smile, but the eyes stayed the same. Maybe she just couldn't help it.

"Welcome to Callipygia, Stephanie."

"Thank you, Hesper." She pulled on the hands, "I want to hug you." She pulled a little harder and Hesper came. Just a light embrace, a few shoulder pats from each.

When Hesper stepped away her face had softened, even her eyes, "That's all I have, Stephanie." They dropped hands, "Megan will be busy most of the rest of the afternoon, catching up her paperwork, so Lorena will show you around."

Lorena. "Lorena?"

"Yes, she got back today, too, just awhile before you came to the office here."

"She was out doing work for Callipygia too?" She hoped the question had not sounded journalistic.

"Yes." Stephanie expected some elaboration, but none came, instead, "If you have any problem, Stephanie, or need anything, just let me know."

"I will." And I hope you and Adrienne get back together. She started for the door.

"One last thing, Stephanie."

She stopped and turned, "Yes?"

"We have a manual typewriter. I hope it'll be suitable."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Good."

Stephanie started to turn, but felt more was coming, so hesitated.

"I don't for one minute believe that you are simply a lost little girl, Stephanie, as Megan seems to believe. You may truly be running away, but you are not what you seem." Hesper again gave her that quiet gaze. Not a hint of a smile, "Time, and actions, will tell. See you at supper."

Excerpt from Chapter 24 Reflection

And Megan. Just beyond the bathroom door. She could hear her doing things, occasionally, making little noises. Would they get together tonight? Did Megan want to? Had she ever wanted to? Stephanie thought about all the things that had happened in the last…my god, only a little over two days had passed since their meeting in that bar. So much had happened. For sure they had come close to necking a few times. Was that all Megan wanted? What about the night in the tent? That had seemed so unreal. No. Megan wanted everything too, same as Stephanie. She was sure.

But that one thing Megan had done. That had frightened her in a way that also seemed unreal, so unreal was the thing Megan did. The gun seemed unreal too, and so small. To fit Megan. But Megan had held it, not at her, but one tiny movement could have changed that. But Megan had not had to make a decision because Adrienne arrived. Would Megan have shot her? Killed her?

Did Megan believe in the goals of Callipygia so strongly that she would have shot her? Maybe in some abstract way she could have. Of course, abstract or not, the bullet would have been real. The occurrence left a tight little spot that she had felt all day, and short flashbacks that she tried to ignore. Abstract and unreal. Like a hazy dream she didn't really want to remember, yet couldn't forget.

All right. So she couldn't forget, but could accept. It happened, and nothing happened. And it would not stop something from happening tonight.

But she should finish her bath so Megan could have hers, or morning would come and nothing will have happened. She had taken a shower, so the washing part was over. Unlimited water, in such a situation. Solar water heaters on all the roofs, and electrical backup from two small generators, and pumps to recirculate and filter the water so they could use it again. More technical expertise and financial backing from Hesper's father.

Again. What would they do without Hesper's father?

And Callipygia hidden? From the air? The buildings had the grass and shrubbery roofs, yes, but the solar heaters—so many of them—stuck out like pimples. And the hundred chickens, the goats—which Lorena had not shown her—and other livestock. And the garden. The ladies of Callipygia thought they were safe, but they weren't. Just one low-flying aircraft and one curious pilot. But that same pilot would have to be aware of the rumors or why would he bother reporting what he saw? Why would he even take a close look?

And why should Stephanie bother worrying about it now?

She sloshed the water, then stood, opened the drain, ran the shower head again. Just a quick wash off. Shower first and wash with their environmentally friendly soap, soak if you want, then shower again. That water eventually is used for irrigation.

The drain gurgled. She grasped the towel, a big, plush royal blue one, and began drying herself, feeling her body beneath the soft cotton. Yes, fuller. No ribs sticking out. Buttocks tight. Breasts and nipples, OK. Legs, not bony anymore. Face…she looked in the wall mirror over the sink. Her face was bright, even radiant. Hair, wet, but would dry. Hair dryers must have been one luxury item that Hesper's dad drew the line on. She didn't blame him.

She wiped her feet one at a time and stepped out, and again looked in the mirror. She let the towel hang. She looked fine. She swallowed.

Close. Ready.

 She walked to Megan's door, tapped lightly, opened it a crack, spoke softly, "Meg, I'm finished." What else to say? Nothing. If Megan didn't know by then….

"OK, Steph, thanks." Megan's voice came softly too, "I'll be in later…to, say good night. All right?"

"Yes. I'll wait for you."

The butterflies and bluebirds came streaking back, only ten times as many, and all clamoring to be heard. Megan would come. Stephanie's next thoughts could not quite make it to the surface. But she knew what those thoughts were, and knew what she wanted.

Tonight. It would happen.

She pulled the door almost closed, moved across the bathroom and entered her own room. The aquamarine and wine-colored negligee lay waiting. She stared at it, and swallowed.

Soon. TONIGHT.

Excerpt from Chapter 34 Kill!

****

Stephanie's eyes slammed open. Where was she? Cold, for damn sure, but mostly on her bottom, her nose, her back a little. She was outside. Yes, among boulders, sitting atop pine boughs. She blinked. Still dark. She blinked again. Something above the boulders. Something she didn't think was there earlier, before they went to sleep. But what? Moving? She blinked again, then held her eyes closed, then opened again, slowly, suddenly fearing what was there.

Yes. Moving—heads! Getting bigger! She heard the click beside her, then felt Megan throwing off their blanket, then came that terrible sound beside her—right beside her—and fire, orange-red flames leaping from beside her—and screaming. Prudence screaming, torn from her sleep. Herself screaming, torn from her very senses.

The heads disappeared. Megan leaped up, ejected the spent magazine, slammed in another, locked and loaded. Then she scrambled onto the boulder, peered over, then made another movement on the mechanisms on the rifle, causing a different-sounding click. Then she aimed, fired, aimed again and fired, then stood for a few seconds, watching, finally jumped back down among them, "We have to move! Now!"

Review

3.0 out of 5 stars Well written, but graphic. Interesting main character, August 14, 2012

By P. Eddy (Seattle) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: Callipygia (Kindle Edition)

I really want half stars... I'd definitely bump this up a half star.

It's well written. The visualization is beautiful. But as a woman, I felt some of the descriptions of the sex was... well... written by a man. Does that mean it wasn't good? Not at all. But I was just aware that I felt it was written by a man. As it's a book about (largely) lesbian relationships, this rang a little for me. At the same time, the way in which it was written also helped offset some of the darker parts of the book. So I wouldn't necessarily categorize this as a negative, but more just as a note. "It is what it is."

I also wasn't totally impressed by the main character's choices in life. I felt like many of her choices were only to further the story, and not choices she'd actually make. She went along with things without question, and as a journalist, I feel like she should have questioned things more. However, at the same time, she was also going through some major life issues, and so I'm chalking her choices up to that. We didn't get enough of her backstory up front. However, that's one of those issues that I'm willing to forgive, if the story is good enough.

That said, the story was excellent. There's a lot of sex and violence in the book, as well as sexual violence. So potential readers should be aware of this. But there is also a lot of love and hope. It highlights some of the horrible parts of this world, and tries to present a solution to them, and even though the solution isn't perfect, and in fact, has major problems of its own, the characters believe it is the right solution.

I would read more from this author.

Contents

1  Assignment                                 33 Into the Forest

2  Quicksilver by Greyhound         34 Kill!

3  Her Story                                    35 Cold & Wet

4  Rape & Kill                                36 Ambush!

5  Running                                      37 Experiment Postponed

6  Interviews

7  Conspiracy

8  Megan

9  The Ranch

10 Little Girl's Room

11 Her Fantasy

12 Wilderness Hike

13 New Beginning

14 Adrienne

15 Callipygia

16 Camp

17 Arrival

18 Hesper

19 Her own Room

20 Hesper's Welcome

21 Lorena

22 Callipygia's Welcome

23 Impregnation & Termination

24 Reflection

25 The Loving Scene

26 The Love Scene

27 Sugar & Spice

28 Confession & compassion

29 Sugar & Spice Returned

30 Morning & Consequences

31 Initiation & Deceit

32 Callipygian Christmas Card

Thanks for reading!

Contact

nelsonjim1@live.com
http://morningshinestories.com
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S
https://www.facebook.com/#!/james.w.nelson2

Callipygia is available for "borrow" anytime with a Kindle Prime Membership. Otherwise $0.99 digital. Paperback $15.00 from my website http://morningshine.com or from Amazon. Occasional free downloads...like tonight, starting at midnight September 15, 2012, for 24 hours.
(So sorry, didn't get it out last night--will get it out tonight for September 16, 2012.) Free 24 hrs.