Dead Right

Dead Right

By

John Dee

&

Katt Lynn

Smashwords Edition

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Published by John Dee & Katt Lynn

On Smashwords

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Dead Right

Smashwords Edition License Notes.

This E-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

You know the rest of this speech, so do what's right.

Thank You.

John Dee & Katt Lynn

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Dead Right Copyright 2018 By John Dee and Katt Lynn

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Forward

Chapter:01 Berkley

Chapter:02 House Brothers

Chapter:03 Killer Keller

Chapter:04 Death Threats

Chapter:05 All Is Lost

Chapter:06 Brody

Chapter:07 Tonight

Chapter:08 Madam Rue

Chapter:09 Into The Breach

Chapter:10 Young Blood

Chapter:11 Attack!

Chapter:12 Ghost!

Chapter:13 Good Cop, Bad Cop

Chapter:14 Rejoined

Chapter:15 Trouble With S’s

Chapter: 16 Side Show

Epilog

FORWARD

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TOC

The only reason. If, there needs be a reason, or if truly; it is reason at all to write this manuscript is to please my lady love.

This; in of ‘it’ self; is cause enough for any man to embark on a strange and perilous journey through uncharted waters. Reason, or reasonable; do not enter this equation at any time. My wife asks, and I do.

Young men! I am speaking only to you now. (the rest of you please bear with me.)

NEVER! Attempt to use reason; and, or logic when dealing with women! Women, and logic are as oil, and water; they do not mix. A woman will spend her, or your last farthing on a trip to Nob Hill; just to look at the beautiful homes. So, she can forget how broke you are. A woman's Logic circuit goes from her heart, to her hormone factory, to her ego, back to her heart, to her brain.

A man's logic circuit on the other hand goes straight from his penis to his brain. No stops, no detours, a straight path all the way. Learn this lesson; understand it, and your life shall be well done. The rest of you may rejoin me now. I do apologize for the delay.

Last week; I was wandering aimlessly about the house, morbidly musing over the ‘what ifs’ of the last thirty-one years.

When; if the truth be known; I was simply enjoying my melancholy by scaring up some of the ghost from my past. When my wife walked into the parlor. With only one look, she knew what I was doing. Her feet (one of the things which attracted me to her a quarter of a century ago) still seem to glide across the floor gracefully. As if she were walking on air when she came to my side. Victor. The past is holding you back. It is keeping you from being all I know you could be. The only way to forget it is to write it all down in a book. Everything Victor; everything which happened, during that last week of October, plus what happened before and after. I'll be right here with you, beside you, for you; helping you through the rough spots. I was there also; remember?

That was last week and this is this week. Thus; I find myself, explaining to you why I am writing this book. Suffice to say, she was correct. For as I sit here writing; I again can feel the excitement, as it pulses through my soul like it did on those glorious first days at Berkeley. I am still twenty-one. The sights, sounds, smells, and chaos of Berkeley; infuse my being, as a tangible living force, which makes me complete. After thirty-one years. The pictures in my mind are as delicate, and fine of line as if I were still living, them.

Chapter One: Berkeley

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TOC

I can't believe it! ‘IT’ being; beyond belief; belief system notwithstanding.

Still here am I. I (being me, Victor James Young) am standing on the mythological grounds of Camelot other-wise known as Berkeley. The birth place of King Leary, and - - -

A shove interrupts my responsibilities with reality, and returned my focus into the fantasies of the here and now. Immediately the problem became obvious. While dallying in dementia; the file I was in, had progressed six inches without my participation. I hastened to reel in the slack before someone tripped over it. By taking a third of a step forward; wherein I turned to thank the line police abaft of me for such quick response to my inattention. Thus, found myself staring at two of the most rounded, well defined, voluptuous breasts, of which I had ever, almost seen. I pretended to read the Amazon's tee shirt, so as to gain more precious time to gaze at her bosoms. When I pointed to her right breast; which was held prisoner beneath the letter ‘N.’ Her right nipple, suddenly strained the fabric, almost to the breaking point in its attempt to be free. Quickly; I pointed to her left nipple/breast, to see what it was doing hidden from my view by only a mere millimeter of cotton weft, and warp. The letter ‘W’ to my delight; also jumped to attention under the arduous gaze of my right forefinger. I then turned my attention and my finger to her valley of dreams. The cleavage! There wasn't any! There was only the letter ‘O’ expanding, and contracting with the goddess's rapid breathing. The ‘O’ appeared to be winking at me. I suddenly remembered, winking, eyes, face. Surely, she must have these attributes also. I reluctantly, but lovingly lifted my gaze to the heavens of her face, and looked tenderly into those windows of the soul; which glared back at me with disdain. The goddess spoke. Poetry flowed from her nipple pink tongue past her breast white teeth, to my expectant ear.

Move it shrimp! You’re holding up the line.

Turning around and moving the obligatory six inches forward to please my goddess. then spinning about to ask her, her name. I should have anticipated my ‘Aphrodite’ moving forward, when the line did. As it were, I found myself with a mouth full of ‘W.’ The tip of my tongue resting on a hard, round button, which enlarged rapidly in search of my tonsils. I looked up into her sloe burning eyes with an apology, and a gossamer nipple on the tip of my tongue. She spoke first.

If you look at me again runt; I'll beat you into a bloody pulp! Then shit on the pulp!

I turned about, so as to face forward again while her nipple said. thank you. I think I should point out at this time; my parents did not produce a litter. Therefore, I am not a runt. Far from it. Being an only child; I am the standard. We may as well dispense with the shrimp myth, while we are on the subject of size. Any crustacea to achieve my five foot almost five-inch stature, would be called a giant. I rest my case. I am a giant.

Ladies; another venomous rumor, which should be dispelled now, and forever; is. I am Too Short. What slander! What a preposterous prevarication! At five foot almost four inches TALL. I am not TOO short. I am just right short. When speaking with a woman, she does not need to risk vertebrae injury, by craning her neck back, to look up at me. When dancing with a woman; we can dance cheek to cheek, or she can rest her head easily on my shoulder, verses having to stick her nose in a tall man's arm pit. When laying down with a woman to make love; I imagine our bodi       OK! So, I'm a twenty-one-year-old virgin! Big deal! You were a virgin once too! And some of you wish you were again. Well, I'm not going to make that mistake. The first time is going to be the last time for me. I mean the first woman making love with me is going to be Miss right. I'm saving myself for her. Which reminds me; I never did get the goddess’s name. I began to turn around when I attended to the solitary word, which trembled softly from her lips.

Don't.

I hesitated. Frozen in mid turn. Wondering; obey her spoken word, or obey the unspoken volumes, which lay beneath the quiver in her voice? Another voice from my left, without any quiver in it spoke with force

Don't do it man; she'll kill you.

I started from the joy of it. This was the second person to actually speak to me since arriving at Berkeley five hours ago. I was becoming more popular than anyone could imagined was possible. I looked upon my benefactor, and gave him a frank and honest appraisal in my mind. He was definitely too tall. Five eleven, or twelve; with short curly black hair, trimmed neat. His clothes were impoverished (jeans, loafers, and a much-worn tee shirt which had a black fist on it), so he must be poor. His complexion was raw sienna. Obviously tanned by the sun on some beach; reserved for the rich and famous. At first confusion racked my brain. Then it dawned on me. I couldn't believe my luck; my first day here, and already I had met one of the fabled ‘poor little rich boys.’ I hastened to answer him, least, he thinks me rude.

Excuse me kind sir. Were you addressing me?

He arched one eye brow, smiled. Then chuckled. and spoke to the heavens.

God; wherever do you find these white boys? Then looking at me he continued;

Forget the bitch man; she's a lesbian.

I shouted with joy; I knew it! She's a Greek Goddess, from the Isle of Lesbos. She will be my Aphrodite and I will be her slave, she wi     

In the midst of shouting my declaration of love to the world; my true love nudged me forward again; only this time she used her,       her,      her bosom! To gently coax me into advancing. I ambulated my allotted six inches avariciously, directly onto the heel of the person standing in front. My hecatomb to the goddess of Lesbos; whirled cyclonically, and melted me with her volcanic eyes. She waited, as I waited, for my apology. My heart betrayed me, as my mind raced to find the words first, and lost.

My lovely Lady Guinevere; to step on your shadow is unpardonable. Alas, I have bruised your exquisite beauty. Please take my sword, and be quick! I do not deserve to live another second.

I offered her my ruler, as I had foolishly left my sword at home. The peals of laughter, which sang from her alabaster throat; brought me absolution. Still laughing, she moved forward with a sensual sway of her magnificently (and amply) rounded buttocks, which aroused such a stirring in my loins, as to make me gasp. Suddenly! I felt the gentle pressure of my beloved goddess's, globoid protuberance of passion pressing persuasively into the back of my head. I leaped lightly forward; taking care not to step on my Guinevere's heel, and returned to my conversation with my companion in the next file.

Did you see that? I whispered. She pushed me with her bosom.

Her what?

Her precious bosom! I shouted

Forget her man; she pushed you with her sweats. She's a lesbian like I said, and worse; she's a junior. I take it; you are a freshman.

Exactly! How did you know?

Psychic.

Really? What else do you know?

I know she's going to push you with her sweats again.

Just then, her beauty, full breast bribed me into action. I hastened forward, right into Guinevere's marvelous mound of muscular motion. My Lady fair, gyrated her handsome hips slowly; her laughter of love lighting my soul. Out of desperation; I looked to my psychic paladin for help. He shook his head to clear it; looked to the heavens for guidance, before speaking again.

She's a freshman also; go for it.

Amazing; what else do you know? I had to ask, to take my mind off Guinevere.

I know; you are from a very small town near Indio, California.

Right! Thermal, tell me more.

You arrived here this morning on a bus. You haven't made lodging arrangements yet. You have made at least two mistakes on your course card.

I did not!

Yes, you did. Give it to me, and I'll show you.

I handed him my card while the line moved forward. As I awaited my Pelasgian’s provocative prodding from behind; Guinevere reached back with both hands; grabbed me by the hips, pulling me forward, pressing me passionately against her pleasingly plump pendular posterior.

Amidst Guinevere's lilting laughter; I heard a husky whisper from somewhere close behind me.

Fat slut!

Once again; I looked to my intellectual intimate for instruction. He handed me back my course card saying.

"Like I was explaining Victor, you - - -

How did you know my name?

He shook his head, and sought celestial consent; before he answered.

Victor, psychic, is psychic. Now; you are probably wondering what my name is.

I started to answer in the affirmative.

Shh! Don't say word Victor. I shall answer you. My name is Alexander; Alexander Hamilton. No. No relation.

How did he know what I was going to ask him?

Alexander continued; I just knew, that's all; now let's get on with changes in your course card.

The line moved forward, and Guinevere wasn't taking any chances. Grabbing my hips again, she pulled me with her. Which was totally unnecessary by now, because her deliciously dexterous derriere dictated my directional decisions. While, Guinevere laughed to the four winds; Alexander's voice returned to my conscious.

No one, and I mean no one; takes a serious course on Monday morning, or Friday afternoon.

Why not?

Alexander's head must have been really stuffed up, because he had to shake it again before he spoke.

"Victor. Monday morning you are either hung over from the weekend, or tired from cramming. One, or the other. No middle ground. So, Monday morning; you take a ‘skate course’. One you can skate through, and get credit, for just showing up. Even if you are asleep, you get credit. Just show up. Friday afternoons, same thing; Skate course. This way; you can get a head start on the weekend. So, scratch physics on Monday, and American lit on Friday. Change it to Parapsychology on Mondays, and Public speaking on Friday's."

Why?

The line advanced once again. Guinevere took a hesitant step forward, her buxomly buttocks bequeathing bliss. My pelvis proceeded, procuring promised pleasures.

Guinevere laughed her delight, as another velvet whisper came from behind me.

Wimp! Wait next time.

Victor! Are you listening to me, or your testosterone?

I answered honestly; I'm trying to do both.

Just a minute. Alexander said, taking a step towards my illicit instructress. Excuse me miss.

My name is Guinevere, sir

Yes of course Miss Guinevere.

Lady Guinevere.

Exactly; Lady Guinevere; could you possibly curtail your amorous advances, until after Victor signs in?

Why?

Because, you are exciting him.

He excites me. Is that bad?

Under other circumstances, no.

But, under these circumstances?

Yes.

Why?

Victor, is becoming sexually aroused in public.

Is that bad?

Yes.

Why?

You are causing him to have an erection!

Alexander, stood back, and pointed. Guinevere, moved forward, then turned around to look; Aphrodite, peered over my shoulder; sucked in her breath, and my earlobe. Everybody in three lines was gazing at my crotch. The show was over in two seconds, as all the blood in my erection raced for my face.

Guinevere stated; I am glad I excite him.

Alexander exclaimed; Not bad for a white boy.

And Aphrodite whispered; It wasn't my sweats pushing you.

Guinevere now faced Alexander squarely and looked up into his eyes.

Mister?

Hamilton; Alexander Hamilton at your service.

Mister Hamilton; when was the last time someone excited you?

Last night. Why?

Mister Hamilton; when was the last time you were sexually aroused.

Last night. Why?

Mister Hamilton; when was the last time you had an erection?

Last night; No, make it, this morning. Why?

Mister Hamilton; when was the last time you were joined in a sexual congress? Your hand doesn't count.

Last night. Why?

"I'll tell you why Mister Hamilton. It has been; three years, two months, and seventeen days, since the first, and last time I had a sexual encounter. It has been; three years, two months, and seventeen days, since a man has touched me at all; until Victor stepped on my foot; and even that thrilled me. It has been my lifetime, waiting for someone,       anyone, to be as gallant, as Victor was to me today. ‘My lovely Lady Guinevere, to step on your shadow is unpardonable. Alas I have bruised your exquisite beauty.’ These are words; I never even thought in my wildest dreams, would be spoken to me; even in jest. Mister Hamilton; Three years, two months, and seventeen days ago. I went out on a date. I was attending a junior college in Des Moines, Iowa, when Dale Knox asked me out. I knew he was asking me to go to a ‘Pig Party,’ but I didn't care. I was going out with Dale Knox; captain of the football team. I knew I would be in his arms all night, because there was a prize for the guy who screwed the ugliest chick. This is how much I needed a man’s arms around me. Even if it was only for a little while. I didn't care about gossip. I didn't care about my reputation. I didn't even care about my dignity. I was - - - so   - -lonely. Do you, even have any Idea, of what the word lonely means; Mister Alexander Hamilton? Dale Knox, was out of the hotel room in five minutes, with his Victory Flag; my panties. He never even said hello to me again. But for the first time in my life, I had been held; even if it was only for five minutes. I never blamed Dale Knox for anything. In fact; I thanked him for the most wonderful night of my life. This is how sad, loneliness is, Mister Alexander Hamilton."

Alexander, hung his head in shame, as Guinevere, continued, relentlessly; "Look at me, Mister Hamilton. No; I mean LOOK AT - - - ME. The real me   - - lady?   - - - Guinevere. I am standing right in front of you Mister Hamilton! Can't You See ME? Of course, you can; Mister Hamilton. What you see is what you get. I am five foot three, one hundred, and forty-eight pounds, of pure love. Not an ounce of fat on me. solid muscle; all of them trained in the ways to please a man. But I have to get the man first before I can please him, and I have got to please him better than any ten ‘Barbies’ out there could ever hope to do. Three years, two months, seventeen days ago; Dale Knox walked out of the hotel room, because I had no Idea of how to keep him there. Three years, two months, and sixteen days ago; Mister Hamilton. I went out, and bought my first book on how to please a man. I have read a hundred, and twelve of them since. I finished the last one yesterday. For three years, two months, and seventeen days I have not been with a man. The first thing I did was exercise, and diet, to lose fat. I figured; if I thought exercise was too much work, then I didn't want a lover very bad. In six months, I was forty pounds lighter. Then keeping to my diet; I began targeting selected muscle groups. Mister Hamilton; I can remove the cork from a good bottle of wine, with my mouth, and lips. I can remove the last maraschino cherry from an eight-ounce jar with my tongue   - - by the stem. I can peel a grape with the muscles of my vagina and not bruise it. Those same muscles, can crack an English walnut shell, then spit out the shell, and meat   - - Separately! Mister Hamilton; I can also balance a jumbo hardboiled egg, small end up, on a drinking straw, upended on a table. Then I climb on the same table; straddle the egg, and proceed to use only those afore mentioned muscles. Taking an hour to slowly   - - Ever   - - So   - - S l o w l y, pull the egg into me, without knocking over the straw. Then, still above the straw; take another hour to pull the egg in me as far as it will go. Another hour to turn it around, crack, and peel it, still above the straw. One more hour to move the egg back toward the opening of my vagina; the final hour, I move the egg outside my body, and return it to the straw, small side down. This takes all of the final hour to the second. I get off the table, without disturbing the egg, or the straw. Walking to the other side of the room; I lay on the carpet, on my back. Then using my legs, and feet take another hour to lift my pelvis, exactly, eight inches off the floor. At that time; I eject the egg shell, along with the membrane, which was surrounding the egg, twenty feet across the room, into a waste basket nine inches in diameter. Mister Hamilton; I never miss, and there is never any egg, egg shell, or membrane on the floor, or left in me. But, Mister Hamilton; shooting hoops in your kitchen alone, is ever so - - - Lonely; no matter how good you are. Look out there, Mister Hamilton. At all those Barbies; they are arousing men all over the place, but you don't chastise them. Now look at me; my breasts are built for fondling, loving, and suckling; not just for looks, and stares. My waist, and stomach are made for a man to lie on, and love on, after a hard day at work. Look at these hips; they can take the weight of the world off my man's shoulders, and love him to sleep. For hours on end, every day, all day, any day. They don't just wiggle when I want a new string bikini. One final thing; Mister Hamilton. While I was exercising those, special muscle groups. I was exercising my mind, with many other books; on various topics, so as to engage in intellectual intercourse with my man, as successfully, as the sexual variety. Mister Alexander Hamilton; if you will kindly step back into your line, and continue doing what you were doing; I will gladly step back in mine, and continue doing what I was doing. For, you see. I only have from here to the sign-up tables, to blind Victor, to all of those Barbies out there. If I can; then, maybe. Just maybe, he will at least say hello to me when we meet again. And if he say's hello.   - - Then,   - - I   - - can begin - - - the - - - - long climb out of loneliness."

Everyone in all three lines had stopped to listen to Guinevere's speech; now while they applauded her. Alexander, removed an imaginary hat, and bowed low, with a gallant sweep of his hand. The other two lanes started rapidly forward, to close the gap in front of them. I say started forward rapidly; because my lovely Lady Guinevere put a stop to it. Looking, wistfully at me with her lazulitic eyes; she turned gracefully, and moved forward slowly to close the ten-foot gap. The mesmerizing motion, of her magnificently muscled metronome, metered our movement in andante. When she finally stopped; she made a half turn at the waist; raised her left arm, and slowly motioned to me with her forefinger, while gazing at me from beneath half closed eye lashes, which were long enough to snare a man's soul. I stumbled forward at her behest; oblivious to all, save her inviting finger which promised so much. Laughing lively, she faced forward, and again reached behind her to pull me closer. Guinevere's piquant posterior purred pleasingly. Alexander, stumbled up around this time, and patted me on the back. Aphrodite patted me on the back also; only harder.

Alexander, finally found his voice.

Victor; my good man, you simply have to change those Monday, and Friday courses.

You still haven't explained why.

Victor; your major is law. This means, you will need all the study time you can acquire. Physics, will not allow you time for anything. So, you take Parapsychology to skate on Monday. Friday; Public speaking classes will train you for the bar. Literally.

Give me, one good reason, why I should change classes, and I will; Alexander.

My, friend nodded his acceptance, of my reasonable demand, then leaned over and whispered in Guinevere's ear. She answered quickly.

If Victor is, I am.

Then Alexander turned to my goddess, and spoke to her.

Excuse me Miss   - - ah   - - I   - - a – apologize. I don't even know your name.

Mister, sexist, Alexander, pig, Hamilton; do you have hearing problem, or a memory problem? Victor told you my name just fifteen minutes ago.

Alexander's voice carried the query in it. Aphrodite?

Exactly, you, chauvinistic, whore monger. Now what do you want before I kill you?

Alexander, stood on his toe tips, and almost looked her straight in the eyes, while he spoke.

Are you signing up for Keller's Parapsychology course?

If Victor bulging pants, and little miss farm girl are; then I am.

Alexander turned his attention to me. At that precise instant; I turned my full attention to Guinevere. Her adapt adaxial superior had formed to my   - - to my   - - - (heck! You know what it had formed to), and held it firmly, but gently. Guinevere's body flowed forward, pulling me with it, while her heavenly hips inscribed infinity signs with my   - -with my   - - - same thing as last time. Far in the distance, I fantasized, I heard Alexander shout. Damn! Look ma; no hands!

Then Aphrodite said something, on the order of; Big wheel I can screw him Better.

When Guinevere stopped; I was out of breath, and she was making magic laughter. Alexander's eyes were wide, as he confabulated history.

Damn girl! Now I know why that Lancelot dude stole some of your trim, from the other white man.

Thank you, Mister Hamilton. I know that was meant as a compliment. But no one could steal my   - - My Trim? From Victor if he wants me.

Alexander's face, turned to a mask of anguish, as he said.

Hurry up, Victor, tell her you want her before I do.

I pressed my hips closer to her, in answer.

Guinevere, laughed her acceptance to my movement. Aphrodite whispered in my ear; I saw that. I want to be your bosom buddy too Victor.

I pushed my head against her breast in answer. She, bit my ear in acceptance.

Alexander looked bewildered, and said; Did I miss something? Never mind. Ladies leave the white boy alone for two minutes, while I have him fill out his course card; Please!!

The girls left me alone. I filled out the new card, and handed it to Alexander.

Thank you, mister Young.

Before I could get the question out of my mouth; Alexander handed me back my card and proclaimed to all.

I, am Psychic!

Everyone laughed, but me. I wanted to know more, so I ask him.

What else do you know about me, Alexander?

In what I thought was an overly loud voice, he answered; I know your daddy's Rich! And your Mamma's Good Looken (everyone laughed) And I know for a Fact! (He stopped, and looked around for effect) You- - -Victor   - - James   - - Young, are   - - - - a VIRGIN!!!

All the blood rushed to my face again then it made an abrupt U turn because my lovely Lady Guinevere grabbed my       my     .

Chapter Two: House Brothers

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TOC

The chunky chick grabs the man by his balls! And her fingers started doing something WHICH transcends description by mortal man. But I do know this; the white girl has got to type a thousand words a minute! Then the big broad grab his shoulders, and dam near puts his eyes out; with her tits.   - - From behind! Plus, she has got her bush, so far up the poor boy's ass; he starts sprouting whiskers! The one in front is typing secret code on his testicles fast enough to scorch his pubic hairs, and the one in back is busy cleaning his ears with her nipples! I'm telling you; I almost popped a cork, and I was only watching. They got this man’s dick so hard; it demolished his belt, and ripped off two of his shirt buttons! Look at him!

The three young men, who were alternately staring at me, then Alexander; were my new, house brothers. We were standing on the large front porch of one of those Victorian mansions you see all over the bay area. Alexander was painting our experiences to the trio, although he had layered an embellishment, or two; here, and there, to give it life. Then used strokes of vernacular, to give it realism. When Alexander introduced me to the three. They did not seem pleased; in fact, the reception was downright frosty. They just stared at me for about five minutes without shaking my hand, or even saying a word; not even to Alexander. Finally, Le Roy, (I found out their names in due course) jumped from the porch railing to the diminutive lawn and began running in circles, holding his head. Subsequently, he stomped up the stairs, and confronted Alexander on the porch front.

We send you out for a football player, and you come home with a white midget! Have you lost your rabbit ass mind?

Alexander just stood there, and smiled.

Le Roy's, nostrils dilated, daring the defense to defend; Alexander, did not. So, the prosecutor picked up where he had left off.

Judging from your idiotic smile. I guess so. How are we going to pay the rent? Have you forgotten, why we agreed to lease this over priced mausoleum? Let me remind you. It is on a corner lot, only three blocks from school. A thousand co eds pass by daily, but they have no reason to stop. If they don't stop, then why are we here? We all came to Berkeley for one reason, and one reason only. In case you have forgotten, the reason. It was the women! If we aren't going to get any women, we might as well pack up and go to Harvard! A football player would have gotten us women, even a basketball player would have done. We ask you to go out, and find us a reasonably popular jock, and you return with an unknown ‘freshman’ jockey. They are not the same thing Alexander. Why did you do it?

At last, Alexander spoke.

Gentlemen. First: Victor has agreed to assume the financial liability of eight hundred-dollars a month, as his part of the rent, and upkeep of this historical building.

My financial stability, apparently pleased Isaac, and Dwayne, sufficiently, for them to slide off the porch banister, and shake my hand, in friendship. Not so, for Le Roy who was still staring at Alexander.

Secondly; this giant of a man, will prove to be of more import to us, than ten, star quarter backs. He wi - - -

Le Roy; apparently had, had his fill of listening.

He will what? Be captain of the debating team! There is nothing more important than a Quarter back, I don't care how much money his daddy has, and if you can't see that; then you can just kiss MY   - -

He's a Virgin.

  - - name is Le Roy; glad to meet you, Victor. Anything you want just ask.

Le Roy, shook my hand, and offered me the rest of his beer. After the back patting, name exchanging, male bonding ceremonies were complete; Alexander coughed for attention.

Gentlemen; you sent me forth this morning, armed naught, save my wits, and a hundred scraps of paper, with our address embossed upon them. I have returned, with the Knight errant, ‘Victor the Victorious.’ Alas, I no longer have the prettily embossed scraps of paper. I was forced to surrender them, after I was besieged by a mob of desperate women; including the two which were directly, in front, and back of Victor. The one   - -

I knew this part. What I didn't know at the time, was there was only one thing, more scarce, more valuable, and more in demand, than a quarter back on campus. The most sought-after commodity in Berkeley during the Aids phobia of the eighties was a twenty-one-year-old male heterosexual VIRGIN! They were rarer than snow storms in Jamaica. The other thing, I did NOT realize was, my value lasted only as long as my virginity did. There was nothing my four house mates would not do, to protect their asset from the world. Even if it meant I had to stay a virgin forever! I should probably explain to those of you, who went directly into the work force after junior college. Thus, taking all the jobs the university kids were hoping to get; the importance of a house celebrity. The women, flock to the house, to have a try at snagging (going to bed with) the celebrity, (football player) then, the lucky house mates (Alexander, Le Roy, Isaac, and Dwayne) would tear through the flock (women) like wolves (horny young men), attempting to devour (sleep with), the unlucky ewes (See flock) whom, the Celebrity had rejected (didn't want to sleep with). Only this time; the celebrity (me) was not going to be allowed to be snagged. Oh well; that's in the past, let's return to the now (Then).

  - - shirt buttons! Look at him!

Le Roy shouted; Well, don't just stand there! Isaac; find a shirt for our new brother! Dwayne! Get him a beer! Alexander! Find a belt! Now, what's your schedule Victor?

Alexander, interrupted my reply.

You don't need to shout, Le Roy; we're not deaf.

Le Roy, as I found out, enjoyed shouting.

Sorry Victor; (he said softly) I was just so glad you chose to be our brother, and wanted to make you feel welcome. So what classes are you taking?

Law is my major, Le Roy.

Good. This means Isaac, and you will have some of the same classes together. What else are you taking?

Public speaking.

Good. That will put you with me. What else?

Parapsychology.

Don't tell me you’re taking, Killer Keller's class?"

Killer Keller? What's wrong with his class? I asked in a panic. Alexander, said it was a skate course.

"It is. It is. Not a problem, besides, Alexander will be there to help you. Just remember. Don’t; do not, never ever, under any circumstances; whatsoever, volunteer for one of his little experiments."

Why not?

Let me tell you a story; sit down. Dwayne, returned with the beers. I sat on one of the three convenient porch swings. Dwayne hopped up on the railing, and Le Roy remained standing. After a swig of beer to nudge his memory, he began.

"Professor Keller; if that is even his real name, was one of those child geniuses, people like to talk about. He received his Doctorate in Physics at twenty-three. He was headed for the Nobel prize according to some; others say the nut house. Anyway, leave it as you may. His parents were one of the uppity ups on snob hill across the bridge in Frisco. They planned this big costume ball, for ‘All Hallows Eve,’ at their billion room, cabin; on their estate, near Carmel. Keller's folks, along with his gorgeous younger sister; go down to the mansion a week early, to make sure the place gets decked out properly, for the upcoming festivities. Meanwhile; who shows up in town? None other than the big man himself, and he wants to throw a party of his own down at San Simeon. Who does he summon? Everyone, the professor’s folks had invited, of course. In those days. Nobody who wanted to remain; Somebody; refused an invite from William Randolph, the man, Hearst.

Now here is where it starts getting spooky. One of those freaky fall storms comes in, and only hits the peninsula knocking out the phone lines around Monterey, and Carmel. But not in San Francisco. The ‘party’ guests supposedly attempt to phone Keller's folks to beg off, but get no answer, and as the fates would have it; Keller is here at Berkeley, working on his ‘Nobel,’ and doesn't know anything about Hearst, or the storm. Come Thursday afternoon, around two; Keller jumps into his Thirty-Eight Coupe, and heads towards Carmel, while most of his parents, guest climb aboard Hearst's planes, and fly to San Simeon. While out in the Pacific to the North West; a BIG! Freak storm turns South East! Young Keller arrives at the Ol Homestead without a hitch, and ‘the family passes Thursday night pleasantly’ according to the police report. In other words, according to young Keller. Come Friday morning; the sun promises a beautiful weekend. After breakfast the Keller's busy themselves with last minute arrangements. They want everything perfect for their ‘Party of the year.’ Around Noon the first two of five guests arrived. Either Hearst didn't invite them, or they were honorable enough to honor their commitment. No matter; just by showing up their fate was sealed. The other three victims joined the party by one o'clock. At two; it was evident; no more than five out of a hundred and fifty were incorruptible, so the Keller’s let all but four of the servants off for the sunny weekend. The mansion now held thirteen   - - - living bodies. The numbers will remain the same; the conditions will not! Around three in the afternoon; the sun broke its promise as well, and buried its face in the storm clouds as they charged in from the Pacific to continue their epoch battle with the mountains of California for supremacy. For three days and nights the cataclysmic forces of the storm reviled the land in an orgy of destruction. Finally, the sun said; ‘Enough!’ and burnt the clouds into submission. In the afternoon; young Keller was found wandering around the village of Carmel, with the back of his head bashed in. Wearing, his once white, silk suit; which was now dyed brown, with blood. Not all of it his. According to the police reports ‘He was very docile when we took him to see the doctor for treatment of his injuries but when we suggested he accompany us back to the Keller estate; he became extremely violent, and agitated. Raving about vampires, ghost, and other supernatural nonsense. Officer Brody, and I left him in the custody, and care of Doctor Martin, then went on to the estate alone.’ Thirteen minutes later; the officers radioed in for a detective, the coroner, and an ambulance. The ambulance wasn't needed   - - for the living. Again, we rely on the police reports. ‘When the radio call came in from Officer Brody; I immediately drove to Ezera Johnson's funeral facilities, to fetch him for his duties as coroner. I had to take the extra time, and expense, because the phone lines were down from the storm. Wreckage was everywhere. We then proceeded to the Keller mansion. The first thing we observed when we arrived at the estate; was the whole of the estate seemed untouched by the recent storm. Not a tree limb broken, anywhere on the estate. Not even a flower out of place. It was as if the property had missed the storm completely. The second thing we noticed, were all the dead horses lying about the grounds. Ezera, and I checked two before proceeding to the house. Both of them had, had their throats ripped out. The strange thing; was there were no signs of struggle, and there, were no sign of blood near the horses. Officer Brody was waiting for us at the front door of the main house. He, and Officer Wydell had thus far located twelve bodies.’ Twelve bodies, and they had to let Keller go. They couldn't find the murder weapons, and they didn't have a motive. Keller was first in line for his daddy's money, sure, but he already