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This is a work of creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you'll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
Explicit details of sex and BDSM scenes from here on out. Some may be hot while others may not be to your taste… and not necessary CG with Ana together. Proceed at your own discretion, but don't say that I didn't warn you.
This ain't your everyday Christian and Ana story. Don't expect anything. Just read it as it goes along or go away. I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don't like this story or me, please don't spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the new saga continues…
"Detective Bhingman."
Well, of course they put me on the phone with this big ball of joy and laughter.
"Rita, how the hell are you?" I ask, as jovially as possible.
"Who is this?" she hisses. No doubt, she's wondering how I know her first name because she didn't say it and I didn't ask for her when I called.
"It's that 'prissy little wannabe cunt' that you love to hate," I say, repeating the words that she didn't know I heard. She's silent for several moments.
"You know that many 'prissy little wannabe cunts,' do you?" I mock. "I'll try to help you out a little more… the one with no cojones?"
The conversation was not twelve hours ago. I'm sure you remember it.
"What do you want?" she asks without acknowledging who I am. "I have things to do, cases to solve."
"Well, detective, that's why I'm calling. You and I both know who most likely beat the hell out of Elena Lincoln. You just don't want to pursue it. Since you worked the night shift last night, I won't keep you long. Has anyone bothered trying to locate Caldwell Lincoln? Has anyone looked at his face to see if he's been in a brawl? Did anyone process the crime scene or the crime kit from Elena Lincoln to see that Mr. Grey's statement to the press this morning was true, and he hasn't been anywhere near that woman?"
"Press…?" Oh, dear God, tell me this Keystone Cop is not just finding out from me that Christian did a press release this morning.
"Yes, press," I inform her. "He's a billionaire who was wrongly arrested and detained for assault. You had to know he would go to the media with this."
"Yeah, they usually do."
They? Who the fuck is they?
"Detective is it only the rich and beautiful that you despise or do you just dislike people in general?" I ask. She doesn't respond, because she knows that I hit that nail on the head.
"I'm used to the rich and beautiful trying to use the press to their advantage," she says finally. "It won't dispel the fact that your Mr. Grey is a person of interest."
"A person of interest, hmm," I say, contemplating the phrase. "So, he's still a person of interest even though his alibi is airtight. That's interesting. You must really like wasting your time."
"Which is exactly what I'm doing on this phone call. So, would you kindly tell me why you're calling?" she seethes.
"I just told you," I say. "I gave you a very solid lead that you should follow if you're truly interested in catching the actual guilty party who brutalized Elena Lincoln." She scoffs into the phone.
"Why don't you stick to… whatever it is that you do and leave the police work to the professionals, okay?" Oh, this bitch…
"I can always let your chief know that I called with a very solid lead, and you ignored it. The choice is yours. And another thing… Christian Grey is going to fucking bury you. So, you might as well have something to show for it when the dust clears."
"Christian Grey can't do shit to me. I was doing my job," she says haughtily.
"Yeah… okay. Keep hope alive. In the meantime, follow the lead or I'll give it to somebody else."
"Nobody else would be able to take it. It's my case," she retorts.
"That's what you think," I say. "Do you want me to show you how wrong you are?"
"Do your worst," she taunts.
"Done!" I snap. "And Rita, I think a really good anal fuck would dislodge that pole that you have stuck up your ass. You should really look into that—assuming you could find somebody with a dick that's bigger than yours who's willing to fuck you. Have a good day."
I say the last part with syrupy sweetness before hanging up in her ear.
"Blake?" I call out to him. It's amazing to me that no matter where he is in the house, he can always hear me. In a few moments, he appears inside the door.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"I need my laptop and tablet, dear," I tell him, "and a glass of water, please…"
"Mis… Ms. Olivet! To what do I owe the honor of this call?"
"Chief McCulley, I always adore hearing your voice, but I wish I could say that this is a social call," I purr.
"I am, of course, at your service. What can I do for you?"
"I'm asking a favor that shouldn't have to be asked," I say somewhat sorrowfully. "I'm only asking that a detective of the Kirkland Police Department put her personal feelings aside and follow a very valid lead from a reliable source before the trail runs dry."
"That sounds reasonable. Who's the source?"
"Me," I inform him.
"Reliable, indeed," he confirms. "And who's the detective?"
"Rita Bhingman."
"She's one of the best. I can't imagine she wouldn't take a lead very seriously."
"Have you been apprised of the handling of the case involving the assault on Elena Lincoln?" I ask.
"Not fully, no, but I've heard some tidbits."
"Allow me to apprise you…"
I give him the details of the case thus far as well as my involvement, being careful to illuminate Christian's current search for new legal counsel as the reason for our meeting. I outlined Christian's arrest, our treatment by the police department—Bhingman in particular, including her not-so-flattering nickname for me, and the lead that I had given her as well as her flippant response.
"Hmm… Grey. It's a wonder I haven't already gotten a call on that one. I know that he's friends with the mayor and his father golfs with the governor. I would have bet my badge that they would have had an airtight case before they even thought to detain him."
"Well, sometimes even the best can screw up, and that's okay as long as you recognize your mistake and do what's necessary to fix it. She doesn't appear in any hurry to do so, and I don't know if it's because she personally doesn't like me or if she's trying to nail the big fish here, and it's blinding her to the facts. Here are the facts, Fred.
"Caldwell Lincoln visited Christian Grey yesterday at his office to confront him about Christian's growing timber interest. This is not a secret—he just did a press release on this. Lincoln left the office angry around 6-ish and Christian left his office and met me. I will testify to that; my butler will testify to that; and I've recently learned that he has tracking devices in his vehicle that can confirm its whereabouts as well.
"Not two hours after he leaves Christian's office in a huff, Lincoln's wife is beaten within an inch of her life and he has disappeared. Mrs. Lincoln fingers Christian, but has the hospital taken DNA evidence from this woman? Christian appears on television this morning barefaced and in a short-sleeved T-shirt—not a scratch or defensive scar on him—hands, arms, and face as smooth as a baby's bottom. Has anybody seen Mr. Lincoln? Can he say the same?"
"If he's skipped town, though, there's no way for us to see if he's bruised," Fred replies.
"That's true, but the absence of scars on Christian Grey coupled with the absence of his DNA on Mrs. Lincoln not to mention his impeccable alibi should clear him of any charges, yet Detective Bhingman informs me that he's still a person of interest. Now, this is a long shot, but unless Mr. Lincoln left on a ferry boat or cruise ship, he most likely caught a flight out of SeaTac last night. A facial recognition scan of the airport would determine if he was there. Review of his bank records will tell you where he travelled and might indicate where he is now if he booked lodging."
"That's a lot of work to capture someone for an assault on his wife," he laments.
"I understand, Fred," I say, pretending to capitulate. "I guess this case will just go unsolved, then… unless Bhingman wants to go pick up Bill Gates or Howard Schultz next." I hear him sigh.
"I see your point," he says. "I'll see what I can do."
"That's all I ask, and Fred? Grey is livid—he's out for blood and I'm sure he'll take this matter as far up as it can possibly go. Expect that call from the mayor… fair warning."
"Thanks for the heads up," he says. "You're a true treasure as always," he adds with admiration.
"Thank you, my dear. It's always a pleasure."
I don't watch much television, but I've been trying to keep up with the local news to see if there have been any leads on the brutalized socialite still confined to Seattle General Hospital two days after her attack. Of course, there have been no arrests. Why? Because that stupid ass detective is still probably chasing behind Christian instead of tracking down Caldwell Lincoln. I know the type of information and clearances that they need to check out the security cameras at SeaTac and to look into his bank accounts can't be acquired overnight, but that's all the evidence they're going to have to nab this guy because in a couple more days, he's going to be bruise-free.
I have to go to court in the morning and as far as I know, dear old Uncle Richard won't be on any of the cases that I'm on, so I don't have to worry about that… I hope. Nonetheless, I need to loosen up and I don't want to go to any of the clubs. I need a different kind of release tonight.
I find myself at Divine Movement with a pole room to myself for two hours—just what I need. I haven't done any new routines since Dirty Diana, so I just spin awhile and allow some of the new music to play. I don't feel the vibe on anything as all the new music is crap to me. I don't necessarily have to listen to old school all the time. It's not like it's my thing or anything, but the new shit is just that… shit.
I hear a beat that I like though I don't recognize the song and it prompts me to do a few curls and leg extensions.
Wow, this sound is really groovy.
I do a few floor moves and begin to pay attention to the words of the song. They're familiar, but the beat is completely different. After a minute or so of feeling the groove, I realize that I'm listening to a cover of Maneater. It sounds nothing like the original, but it has a sinful beat and is motivating me to try some moves…
So I do.
I push my limits and do a super-fast spin on the rotating pole in an impossible position. I even impress myself with that move. I guess I should be thanking Kevin for those times that he held me in those pretzel yoga poses so that he could stare at my ass. I ponder for a moment if this should be the next song to which I formulate a new routine. After all, I am a maneater. But no… it's got a nice beat, but it's not what I'm looking for.
Next is another cover of another oldie… Love is a Battlefield. I like this one, too, and it causes me to bend and stretch and curl into positions that I didn't know I could achieve. When I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror wall, I'm hanging upside down with my ass sticking out and my muscular legs pointing back towards the pole, but my feet and legs aren't touching it. Every curve and every sinew of every muscle—even my ass—is defined and sculpted, suspended in the air like a magnificent statue.
Fuck. That looks hot!
I commit the pose to memory along with the insane spin I created in the impossible position to add to my new routine. The next song that I hear seals it for me. Yet another cover, this one is Tainted Love, and it's hot and sensual as fuck!
I spend the next hour and twenty minutes doing incredible moves and poses to make onlookers gasp, the entire time Tainted Love is playing in my head…
Morning comes and I'm a little stiff from my pole workout, a sign that I may need to spend more time at the studio. I almost dread putting my hair back in its traditional bun for court, but I do that on purpose. I don't want anybody—judges, DA's, clients, nobody—looking at my beauty and taking my skills for granted. Know that I'm very serious when you see me coming. That's why it's serious professional no fucking frills when I'm headed to court—except for the stilettos.
As expected, I didn't face off with Richard Steele—one of his colleagues this time. I came ready to do battle since I didn't know what to expect. As it turns out, my petrified client, his mother, and I sat for hours waiting to present our motion to dismiss… and the DA beat us to it! It appears that "new evidence" surfaced that pointed to a different suspect and exonerated my client. When I asked for the evidence to be presented, that motion was denied based on the fact that my client had been cleared and that I am no longer representing the accused party in this case. For some reason, I think that's just a matter of time.
Well, that was a day wasted, but the outcome was pretty much the same. My client is going home cleared of the charges… but who's about to take the fall?
I stop in the ladies' room to relieve myself and just as I'm about to leave, who do I see standing outside of one of the courtrooms talking to what looks like another plain-clothed detective?
I'm not looking for a confrontation, but I'm sure as hell not going to avoid her. It's not like I could anyway, because just as I'm putting my purse on my shoulder and preparing to proceed towards the door, she shifts her gaze and sees me walking out of the ladies' room. She begins a heated stride towards me, so I proceed in her direction as well. What, do you think I'm going to run, bitch?
"Olivet!" she snaps once she has closed the distance between us.
"Bhingman!" I retort with just as much malice as she delivered, if not more.
"I bet you thought that was cute, didn't you?" she hisses.
"Nothing I do is cute, detective, but I'm just dying to know what you're talking about," I reply.
"I've got nearly every elected official in a 100-mile radius crawling up my ass because of you and your pretty boy!" she seethes. I scoff.
"Is that what you see?" I ask incredulously. "A pretty boy? I'll admit that he's nice on the eyes, but you're missing a whole lot here, Cagney," I say before closing the remaining space between us.
"Christian Grey is power," I inform her, my voice low, "more power than you'll ever know or see in your life. You, my little guppy, ran into the shark tank and tried to bite the fucking shark! Now, that shark is preparing to eat you alive. What the hell did you expect—for him to roll over while you try to pin a crime on him that he didn't commit? What new type of insanity are you suffering from? That man wiggles his little finger and empires fall, and you don't think he has the power to land you on a desk job in a lighthouse on the outskirts of nowhere?"
She doesn't know how to answer, so she turns the conversation onto me and my lead.
"You come in with an idea and you want us to drop everything and chase behind some hunch that you have! There's a process to police work!" she retorts. "You don't just jump off a cliff onto a lead without proper protocol!"
"And yet, that's exactly what you did," I remind her. "You jumped right off the cliff and landed on the wrong suspect and you're too asinine to admit it. You went on the word of a woman laid up in the hospital with an obvious ax to grind and nothing else! No witnesses, no DNA, no evidence, nothing! If this is what you call police work, I'm on the wrong side, because the bad guys are getting away and the good guys are constantly in court defending their innocence from blind and bigoted cops who find the most ridiculous reasons not to like them!"
"What I don't like, Olivet, is people with money and friends in high places who can tell the police not to do their job!" she counters.
To this point, I had been quiet, keeping my voice low. Now, I'm getting angry, because she's completely ignoring everything I'm saying.
"And I don't like police who don't do their jobs!" I retort angrily. She's a bit taken aback by the force of my statement. "Do you have any idea how many pro-bono cases I take because some lazy ass flatfoot or some gung-ho cop grabbed the wrong kid and was too concerned with nabbin' somebody instead of getting to the truth? 'He's here; he'll do; fuck that the real culprit is still out there and will probably commit another crime before the day is over,' right, detective?"
I pause and wait for a response, but I get none. I know that I don't need one, because I already know that I'm right. I've seen it too many times.
"You think whatever the fuck you want to think about me," I snap. "I don't care! The fact is that Christian Grey is not your guy. He did not attack that woman, and the real offender is probably on a beach in Cancun sipping mai tais while his bruises heal! And you're here splitting hairs with me while Mr. Grey has already filed his suit for false arrest. You allowed the woman who assaulted him months ago and left him with broken bones, who is currently under an open protection order to finger him as her attacker with no evidence and you detained him even though he told you he had an alibi. When his alibi checks out, you get mad at me because I'm the one who had dinner with him!
"He's friends with the mayor; did you know that? Chief McCulley let me in on that tiny tidbit of information. If he had been dining with the mayor that night instead of me, would you be treating the mayor this way? Why are you really pissed, Ms. Bhingman? Is it because you can't move forward with the case? Is it because you think we're lying? Or is it because he's an innocent man and you can't pin the crime on him?"
She wants to answer, but she looks from left to right, noting that a few people are observing to see why my voice has risen. I also take note of that fact and employ Golden's take-no-prisoners attitude and tone for my next message. I lean in to her so that inquiring ears aren't privy to the conversation, but she can hear me loud and clear.
"I'm going to give you a bit of advice," I say. "I called the chief of police. Mr. Grey will most likely contact the mayor—if he hasn't already—and his father golfs with the governor. That's how many degrees of separation you are from an administrative reprimand or worse. You're trying swim waters that are way too deep for you. This major waterway is a whole lot more rapid than the little pond that you're accustomed to wading in. Don't go chasing waterfalls, detective. You just might drown.
"And yes, you're dealing with a rich man who knows people in high places, but that's not your biggest problem. Your biggest problem is that when this case blows wide open—and it will—I'll be right there with our recorded conversation telling the press that I gave you the solid lead before the reward-chasing nuts started calling you and you ignored me simply because you didn't like me.
"Now I suggest you get your head out of your ass, your nose out of the air and stick that stank ass superior attitude in your fucking pocket and do your goddamn job. I'll play by the book and I'll respect your position as long as you respect me, and if you can't do that, then you stay the fuck out of my face unless you have questions—or answers—about the case. I have a lot of strings in my little violin case, detective. I've only pulled one of them!"
Her eyes are screaming that she wants to ask me if that was a threat—you know, like they do in the movies—but of course, she won't because she already knows that it was. You have to wonder where someone's mind is that they feel confident enough to threaten a cop, even if the threat is veiled.
Don't push me, Missy. This isn't about Christian Grey anymore. This is about me and you.
I can only assume that something in my gaze indicates that I'm ready for a full-on duel if that's what she wants. Apparently, it's not. She slowly brushes past me and proceeds down the hall.
"Have a good day, detective," I call after her before heading in the opposite direction.
I have fifteen messages when I get out of the meeting with Brandon, all from CEO's in the lumber industry—Linc's colleagues and some of his competitors. I have Andrea organize the messages and arrange a schedule of callbacks during the course of the afternoon.
And one more, from my father.
"I hear you're looking for new legal counsel," he says, when I return the call.
"How did you hear that?" I ask.
"Word gets around," he says. This is the sum-total of my life. My father and brother are both snakes.
"What do you need, Dad?" I ask.
"This whole thing with Elena Lincoln," he begins, "what's the real story there?" And here we go.
"There is no story," I reply. "She's a delusional bitch who used to be a friend and now she's not. And if there was a story, I'd be off my fucking rocker to tell you. You're about as trustworthy as a scorpion."
"Christian!" he says, mocking injury. "You wound me!"
"Not yet, but I could…" if you don't keep your nose out of my fucking business.
"You're not threatening me, are you, son?" he asks coolly.
"You take it how you want to," I say. "Just take it the fuck out of my personal affairs. That bitch hit me with a potted plant because she thinks I'm responsible for the fall of her business, and now she's fingering me for some shit I didn't do as revenge and caused me to spend a night in jail. I'm going to destroy her for that shit. Now, as you can see, I've got enough of my own fucking problems without you sniffing around trying to find some where there are none. Stay the fuck out of my life, Dad, and if this is the bullshit you call me with, don't bother calling me at all!"
I end the call without another word and summon Andrea.
"Yes sir," she says through the intercom.
"If my father calls, don't patch him through to my voice mail and don't take a message."
"Yes sir," she says without hesitation.
The sixth day after that bitch had me arrested, there's a break in the case.
I knew that my outrageous reward would mean that the police would be inundated with crackpots just looking to cash in, and boy did that work. They got calls from everywhere—people who claimed to be witnesses to the attack and know who did it; people who clearly teamed up for one to report the crime and the other to take the fall with the intention of splitting the reward money once it was collected; and of course, various sightings of Linc.
The fact that on live television, I questioned where he was while his wife was injured and in the hospital shed light on him as a person of interest, but that Bhingman bitch wouldn't get off my ass. She would show up at places where I was having lunch with clients and sit there and watch me or she'd be standing across the street when I got out of the office. As I'm escorting some key officers of a company I'm planning to merge with to their limousines, I see her sitting in her car not a hundred feet away from the front door of Grey House. I was trying not to call in any favors and do this by the book, but this has to stop.
"I'm willing to take to social media with this harassment," I say to Bhingman's superior. "Everywhere I look, there she is. I didn't commit this crime. While you may not know who did commit it, you have proof that I was nowhere near that woman. Yet, this crazy cow is everywhere I go, like a psychotic groupie! If I did the same thing to her, you'd have me in cuffs, but she gets to do it to me because she has a badge?"
"Mr. Grey, I do apologize," he says. "She's just following a lead, and she's required to be thorough in her investigation…"
"And while she's thoroughly harassing me after I've been cleared, the real culprit is running around out there and she's not solving the crime! That's okay. You go on and sit on your butt. I'll handle this myself."
I put in the call to the mayor that I was trying to avoid, and to the governor since he's good friends with my slimy father. I give them the details of the case and let them know that I'm not looking for any favors—I just want her to leave me alone and go catch the real culprit. Within an hour, she was away from my door and I haven't seen her since.
The best news came in the form of pictures forwarded to me and to various members of the press this morning. A tip came in that was, once again, ignored by the police, so the tipster took to social media and the web. She posted pictures of a badly bruised Caldwell Lincoln checking into a swanky hotel somewhere, as well as a few pictures of him in compromising positions in a nightclub and on the beach with more than one woman… in the Bahamas.
The Bahamas? Seriously? He's in the Bahamas? Of all the places that loser could abscond to, he went to the Bahamas? For the love of God…
The pictures are very clear, and he looks like utter hell—horrible scratches, a black eye, he's got a chipped tooth, and bite marks on his hands. She may have taken a beating, but she beat the hell out of him, too.
Once the pictures were released, suddenly the cops announce that they have DNA evidence that eliminates me as a suspect and incriminates her husband. Because she fought back, she had his blood on her and a lot of DNA evidence under her nails. Her house was still a crime scene and with her still recuperating in the hospital, CSI just went back in and took hairs from Linc's brush.
When they were questioned about why they sat on the evidence or what may have taken so long, a spokesperson indicates that Elena and Linc shared a common space, so they couldn't immediately assume that he was the culprit just because his DNA was present.
"But you could immediately arrest a man whose DNA wasn't present based solely on the word of a woman who attacked him several months prior?" I hear one of the reporters ask.
Needless to say, they are looking to extradite Linc back to the states, assuming they can get it done. And he's most likely going to stall to give his wounds some time to heal.
Almost simultaneously, I get the notification that Elena is being released from the hospital and has requested police protection—from me! The request was vehemently denied, and she was advised to employ private security if she feels threatened.
Lying ass cow, you should be afraid of me!
My small victory lap is interrupted by Andrea informing me that my 2:00 has arrived. I've been interviewing for new legal counsel. Dad probably heard that from just having his ear to the ground as I'm not keeping it a secret. What I am keeping a secret is that I'm looking for an asshole—not a yes man, but someone who understands that I hold the power and doesn't try to step on my toes like Rockford did. He was once an asshole—still is, actually… he just got too comfortable and lost his edge. Then he decided to play that game with me that lost him his job.
Once they've been vetted and cleared, I personally sit down with candidates that will hold key positions in my company, particularly legal. I've met with several applicants that were intelligent, industrious, and ambitious—but they sucked up to me too much, or they recited my portfolio like they memorized it right before the meeting, or they just didn't have the edge.
This guy does.
Daron Wester—very cocky. He's good and he knows it. He's currently employed with another corporation downtown, but when he heard about the opening in Grey House, he couldn't allow the opportunity to pass him by.
"I'm a shark, Mr. Grey," he says, "I smell blood in the water and I go for it. I've been filling up on goldfish for the last few years and I'm tired of it now. So, do you have some meat that I can chew on, or should I take my inquiries elsewhere?"
Oh, I've got meat alright. Let's throw you a few morsels and see how you work out.
I hire the guy for the probationary period, which is usually three months, but he negotiates six instead with the requirement that he gets to work the entire six months at his agreed upon salary without fear of dismissal except in cases of gross misconduct or breach of contract. He's convinced that he would truly have nothing to sink his teeth into in three months and therefore, wouldn't be able to show his chops. He's right.
He's shrewd. I like him already.
Sink your teeth into suing the municipality that had me wrongfully arrested, destroying the bitch who wrongfully accused me, and gathering the needed information and contacts to uproot Caldwell Lincoln as the timber giant of the United States. By the time I'm done with this piece of shit, he'll go from being Paul Bunyan to Tom Thumb.
Daron is all for that idea.
I want to get a message to Linc so badly that I know what he did and I'm taking him down but contact with him right now is definitely not a good idea. The best way to get the message to him is to just pull the rug out from under him and keep it moving.
My afternoon is filled with meetings from various representatives of the timber industry. The verdicts are mixed. Many of them don't know which side to take. Linc has been in the catbird seat in the industry for so long that his name certainly holds clout with the powers that be. However…
"There's a new face on the timber scene, now, Mr. Granger," I point out to the President CEO of Wurchiest, one of the largest lumber suppliers in the United States. I don't let on that having him on my side would most likely be the biggest coup ever and would secure my position in the industry. However, this is personal, and he knows that even if I don't say so. Wurchiest boasts 12 million acres of timberland in the US alone and produces the lion's share of wood and paper products from its mills in the northwest and the Midwest.
"You've got me in a precarious position, Grey," Granger says. "I know you're a corporate giant, but when it comes to timber, you're an upstart. Lincoln has been in this business for decades and his name is not one that's spoken softly. A man in my position can't afford to run behind someone who's simply trying to satisfy a vendetta only for him to lose interest three or four years down the line and I've alienated one of the most powerful men in the business." I nod.
"I see," I say, leaning back in my chair. "I can understand you wanting to play it safe, but I have to ask you—and this is not a set-up. Are you a powerhouse on your own, or does your success depend on Lincoln Timber? Ultimately, you just have to decide where you're going to be standing when the weapons are dropped, and the fight is over and the way I see it, you shouldn't have to worry about alienating Lincoln. He should be worried about alienating you.
"I don't need to tell you about GEH's impressive holdings across several industries. I'm a corporate giant not because I tame the bulls, but because I run with them and sometimes, I capture them. You don't get to be who I am by playing it safe.
"Lincoln has gotten comfortable. He knows what you know, that his name means something, but that's all he's got right now is his name. His contracts are antiquated and the deals that I'm offering are causing his longest-standing colleagues to sweep him by the wayside. Now, it may be today, or it may be tomorrow—hell, it may be next year, but I've got my sites set on being the next timber giant. To you, that may just mean that I'm gnawing on a bone. To me, it's another lucrative endeavor that I can add to GEH's multi-billion-dollar portfolio. It would be a whole lot easier if you were on board with me, but if I have to be number two for a while, that's fine by me. Gathering up all the little shards of glass may be a lot of work, but there's still going to be a whole lot of glass in that pot when it's all said and done. Putting that big blue marble in there would sure make it a whole lot sweeter. And here's another thing…
"Lincoln's time is coming to a close. He may be trying to hold on to what he has with a death grip, but sooner or later, that grip is going to slip because he has a young, vibrant, hungry upstart with unlimited funds under his mattress coming up behind him taking bites out of his ass. You can see it as whatever you want to see it, Mr. Granger, but sooner or later, I will be number one. My success with Mobilecom should serve as an example."
Granger's eyes flash at the mention of Mobilecom. It was—as he mentioned—an upstart telecommunications company that I acquired several years ago. Almost immediately upon acquisition, GEH began gobbling smaller telecommunications companies and ISP and cell service providers—small shards of glass to put in the big pot. Within three years, we were competing with large companies, offering the same services at discounted rates because we could afford to. The larger companies were offering "Cadillac" packages at "Cadillac" prices, but people where just beginning to recover from the blows of the housing bubble and the banking crisis and couldn't afford the Cadillacs. Long story short, Mobilecom is now one of the largest telecommunications providers in the area, all from an even smaller upstart than he's considering me to be right now.
While these points are marinating in Granger's head, there's a knock at my office door. I plan on firing the person on the other side of the door and having them thrown off the premises when Wester sticks his head in. Okay, he's new, but this doesn't look good for him.
"Forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Grey, but in light of your meetings this afternoon, I thought this shouldn't wait." He walks in and crosses my office. "Utz answered your bid for the clearing rights of their lands in North and South Carolina and Georgia with a contingency on their lands in Oregon." He hands me a piece of paper with a counter bid from Utz Timber that's right in the area I was hoping. I aimed very low with my bid, knowing that I was outbidding Linc's current contract, but still not coming in as high as I could on what the land and the rights were worth. Utz played right into my hands, sealing the bid at within five million of my target offer. I could counter, but I'm sure that Wester timed this little announcement for Granger's benefit.
"Oo," I exclaim quietly. "Lock it down. Inform him that I can have contracts on his desk in an hour for his review and we can Skype and have this puppy signed, sealed, and delivered by dinnertime." Wester nods.
"Done, sir," he says as he leaves the room without even acknowledging Granger.
"Utz," Granger says, almost to himself. "Small company…"
"With considerable interests," I add. "Shards of glass, Mr. Granger." He twists his lips and stands.
"I'll be in touch," he says. I stand with him.
"You do that, sir," I say proffering my hand to him. He shakes it firmly, buttons his suit jacket and proceeds to the door. When he opens it, at least seven executives from different timber companies are waiting in my lobby area.
"Sirs, I apologize. My meeting ran a little longer than I expected. Since I'm sure that you've been chatting among yourselves, would you mind terribly if we all met together in the conference room? I can reschedule anyone who would rather have a one-on-one for a later time." We're not talking numbers after all—just yet. We're just working on an agreement. The gentlemen all agree to a meeting and I have Andrea show them to the conference room while I show Granger to the door.
This couldn't have worked out better had I planned it this way.
"Mr. Granger?" I say, gesturing towards the elevator.
"Shards of glass," he points out as I push the call button.
"There's still room in the pot, sir. Let me know." We shake again before he boards the elevator.
"Get some refreshments in that room quick," I tell Andrea. "Coffee, water, soft drinks, pastries. And tell security I need three details, now. It's showtime."
And showtime it is. Linc's diehard supporters all but accuse me of trying to destroy a national treasure while the others have valid questions concerning my plans and reasons for wanting to enter an industry so far outside the spectrum of my current interests. I give them the whole Manifest Destiny-type speech that this is a lucrative industry and I want in.
"And this would have nothing to do with the personal issues that you're currently having with Lincoln and his wife, would it?" Stuver taunts.
"Of course, it does," I say to his surprise and to the surprise of the other men in the room. They're not surprised that I'm having issues with Linc, just that I admitted that those issues are the foundation of my interest.
"I'm a straight shooter, gentlemen," I say, standing from my chair and buttoning my jacket as I circle the room. "My intense—and justified—dislike of the Lincolns is exactly what brought my attention to the timber industry. If I wanted to sneak in through the back door, all I had to do was buy stock. Not only would that give me voting rights, but I would also be driving up the price of my own investment. It would also make any one of the companies that I'm approaching ripe for a takeover. That's not what I want. I want to be a part of the industry, of the growth, the profits. I have the money and the power to do it. I want the profitable companies and operations to stay intact, and I can still enjoy the prosperity of the expansion while contributing to the profits that you deserve that you're currently not getting through your contracts with Lincoln Timber."
Various murmurs spread over the conference room.
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable being a part of your cat-and-mouse game with Caldwell Lincoln," Stuver continues. "He's been a captain of this industry probably longer than you've been alive and I don't think it's the best idea to put the future of our companies in your hands."
This sonofabitch. So, now he's the spokesperson? Time to strip him of his imagined power.
"Very well, Mr. Stuver. You can leave now." To say that he's taken aback would be an understatement.
"What?" he barks with heavy emphasis on the "wh."
"You've made your position quite clear. You are obviously pro-Lincoln, and I am not. So, our business here is done. If you would like to hold a meeting with any one of these gentlemen at a later date, I suggest you contact their office and make an appointment. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming and you can leave now. Taylor, please show this gentleman to the elevator." Stuver's eyes widen and he scoffs disbelieving.
"Is this how you do business, Grey?" he accuses. "You invite people to your business and then throw them out when they disagree with you?"
"Feel free to disagree with me all you want," I defend. "However, you've spent the afternoon throwing veiled insults at me, wasting my time, and defending my adversary. You've made it very clear that you want nothing to do with this endeavor. So, our business is done and yes, I'm throwing you out. You should be questioning my cojones if I allow you to stay." I turn to face the other gentlemen in the room. "If anyone shares his opinion, please join him now." One other person stands and heads for the door.
"And thank you for coming as well, Mr. Warner," I say to the asshole who stood up. "Taylor?"
"Gentlemen?" Taylor says as he holds the door open. Stuver and Warner both leave, conspiring as they walk to the elevator.
I'll deal with them later.
"Now, back to business. Should I stop talking now or are any of you gentlemen interested in my hope for expansion?"
The room is silent for a several moments before someone finally speaks up.
"Well, you're right about one thing," Spires says. "Lincoln is lowballing the hell out of me and he doesn't give much if any at all when it's time for renegotiations."
"That's because Lincoln is the Rockefeller of timber, so to speak," I admit. "A long time ago, he did what I'm doing right now—locked down one lumber interest, then two, then four, then eight, and so on. Pretty soon, he was one of the biggest names in lumber. Those above him saw no need to take him down, or he'd be down by now. His lateral colleagues may keep an eye on him, but as long as he's a good boy and stays in their good graces, they continue to allow him to play in the sandbox with them. Those below him haven't had the desire or the ability to go up against him. I fall into none of those categories.
"Where I am now is where Lincoln started when he began Lincoln Timber. The difference between me and him is that I've already secured several timber interests as my startup. In addition, Lincoln doesn't have the buying power that I have—or the drive. The only reason why Lincoln Timber is a giant right now is because he enjoys outrageously massive profits by keeping his costs low—you all!" I point around the room to each of them. "He buys a lot from you, but at a very low price, and you all know this. What if you could maintain the same level of production at a profit margin 10-33% higher than you're recognizing right now?"
The murmurings begin across the room again.
"I only say that, gentlemen, because once the contracts are signed, the numbers are available to whomever may ask for them under the Freedom of Information Act. Lincoln is definitely lowballing you. Some of you are operating on profit margins that weren't acceptable a decade ago. Others of you—and you know who you are—are enjoying near or at-market profits because you held out for a better deal, but I can still make it sweeter. I must tell you that I'm determined, gentlemen. I'm not going to let anyone stop me. I'll keep going until I build my own industry giant if I have to."
Of course, Wester comes knocking at my door again. Does he plan this shit?
"Again, my apologies, sir. Just thought you should know that I just got another call—Wurchiest is a go." I suppress a smile.
"Wurchiest," I hear someone whisper. "I knew I recognized that guy."
"Thank you, Mr. Wester," I say. He nods and leaves the room. Yeah, he's cocky as fuck.
"Gentlemen, those battle lines are being drawn. What say you?" I say, taking my seat again.
"Fuck," Spires says, "I don't want to be on the losing side when the dust clears. Count me in."
Four out of five of the remaining executives agree to come over to my side before the meeting is over. The fifth wants a little time to think about it. Don't think too hard, junior. The offer may not be on the table for long.
By the time I get home that evening, I get the best news yet. I don't know who made a call to whom or what happened, but the police in the Bahamas pulled Linc in and took several pictures of his scars and bruises. I have no idea how this works, but I have a feeling that they have all the evidence that they need to pin that motherfucker and I have all the evidence that I need to begin my lawsuit.
I fire off a text to Wester to get the ball rolling and file the needed documents with the required agencies. I wasn't born yesterday. Most likely, nothing will come from this lawsuit, but it'll ruffle enough feathers to make sure that this case is going to be examined with a fine-toothed comb.
She's on her knees on my bed, facing away from me with that glorious ass on display. The plump lips of her pussy peak from just beyond the junction of her parted thighs and she's looking coyly over her shoulder, her mahogany hair cascading down her naked back, caressing her creamy skin.
"What are you waiting for?" she taunts, her voice like melted butter.
I have no fucking idea, I think to myself, fisting my unbelievably stiff erection in my right hand. I climb onto the bed and crawl up behind her, my dick pointing due North and seeping in anticipation. I don't dawdle. I want her too much—have wanted her for months!
Her ass is fucking beautiful—the source of many scenes and vicarious orgasms with other women as well as orgasms at her hand in her dungeon… strapped to her table, chained to her ceiling, bound to her wall. That ass is calling me, but I've wanted that pussy for too long to let this opportunity pass me by. I'll have to get the best of both worlds.
I release my dick and close the space between us, caressing her bare back, her hips, then her stomach, committing the feel of her skin to memory. Mmmm, she feels divine. I move my hands down to the front of her thighs and splay my finger firmly across the soft skin. I press her body against mine as I nip her shoulders, tasting her flavor. Her ass sandwiches my dick and I can't help it. I push my cock between those soft, sweet cheeks and let the feeling of the meat burn my shaft as I stroke a few times. I groan at the feeling… so fucking good.
"Stop teasing," she warns, her voice even. "Handle your business."
With pleasure, Mistress.
I pull back and grab my cock. Guiding it between her parted legs, the head finds its way to her luscious peach without much coaxing. I push forward and breach that sweet pussy with a loud grunt, shivering at the feel of the inside of her. I'm going to come.
Fuck! No! Not yet.
I pull out slowly and push into her again. So fucking good… slowly… don't come too soon.
"Faster," she commands, her voice is controlled the whole time. I move a little faster, exercising every bit of dick control that I can. Her pussy is hot and burning my dick, coaxing and commanding me to come. My fingers sink into her hips as I settle into a sensual roll that gives me continuous stimulation. Fuck, she feels so fucking good and I've wanted this for so fucking long.
"Shit!" I hiss, not sure how much longer I can hold out.
"Poor Chopper," she taunts, wiggling her hips seductively on my dick while still holding on to the headboard. "Can't hold out much longer? We've only just started."
"Fuck!" I groan as that pussy rolls masterfully over my dick. "Shit, that feels good."
"I know," she says, wiggling her hips again, and I still for fear that I'll blow my load inside her right this second if I thrust into that hot pussy against that delicious, round wiggling ass.
"Ummmgghhh!" I groan, fighting for all I'm worth to hold my nut.
"Sit back, ass on your feet," she commands. I take a deep breath and do as I'm told. Her ass sticks a little further out, a little further up, on perfect display—and I can clearly see her hungry pussy lips wrapped around my aching cock. Fuck, the site is almost unbearable.
"Now, fuck me," she commands, her voice a mixture of sensual and demanding. God, I'm not going to last long.
I push my cock into her resisting pussy, groaning deep as I watch and feel it rubbing against her lips and the velvety inside of her core.
"Dammit!" I groan, as she stays stock still and gives me the pleasure of watching my dick sink into that deliciously soft and wet pussy, over and over again. I groan mournfully as I feel my pleasure creeping through my rolling abs and the tightening muscle in my back. Too soon. Too fucking soon…
"Hold it, Chopper," she coaches in that playroom voice. "Enjoy it… you know you want it."
She starts to move, raising her ass on my withdrawal and pushing down when I thrust—not too fast, not too hard, not to eager. Just enough to match my stroke.
"That's it," she coaxes, "keep it steady."
My muscles ache from trying not to thrust into her like a horny rabbit. I keep the stroke even like she instructs me, licking my lips at the sheer pleasure of the burn. I use my fingertips to gently lift her ass. I'm not holding anything up, just lifting slightly so that I can feel her skin against my hand. Her ass is softer than I expected and as she grinds down onto me, my hands cause her to open more, giving me an even more tormenting view of her assault on my cock.
"Sweet Jesus!" I hiss as I watch her pussy greedily gobble my shaft. I'm shaking with pleasure as we cruise into and against each other, my dick threatening an offering that she won't soon forget.
And I feel the crack of a lunge whip across my back.
"Fuck!" I cry out as my dick stiffens immediately inside her unforgiving pussy. Fucking hell! The combination of my most recently discovered guiltiest pleasure—or pain—and the culmination of something I've wanted so much that I could barely think of anything else is almost more than I can take.
I run my hand up her back and thrust it into her hair, grabbing a handful of it as I watch her body drop down on my aching dick.
"Fuck… Golden…" I groan as I thrust into her and she pushes back onto my erection, matching me stroke for sensual stroke. "God!" I gasp as my free hand roams up her body to her perfect breast and we continue the hottest, sensual tango I've ever felt in my life—a synchronized fuck where each stroke burns deeper than the one before with an unbelievable rhythm that has my dick desperate to come.
The whip bites into my flesh once more, searing across my back and causing my mouth to water.
"Fuck!" I bite out as it feels like she's getting tighter around me. "Fuck!"
"Don't lose it," she purrs. "Keep your rhythm. Keep it deep…"
I groan in my chest, rolling my hips as I lean back and thrust into her, making sure that every millimeter of my dick sinks into that tight, wet pussy.
"Shit!" I curse. "I… can't! Too… fucking… tight…" Too fucking much…
"Feel it, Chopper," she coaxes as she rolls her hips in the opposite direction of my gyrations. Her control is maddening, and so fucking hot! My dick stiffens and now it hurts to roll my hips. I can only thrust into her, repeatedly, watching my dick disappear and reappear—wet, red, and angry—in and out of her luscious pussy.
"It's coming!" I grunt, rolling my abs and getting lost in the wet sounds our sex makes as she pumps my cock with her juicy pussy. "It's… coming!"
"Mmmm," she moans. "Well, like I said… what are you waiting for?"
One final crack of the whip across my skin and my balls pop like eggs, my cum spilling helplessly out into her.
"Fuck!" I hiss, one hand fisting in her hair, the other grasping her hip as I try to still my stroke and enjoy the pulsing of my dick, but it's no use. Both our bodies continue that sensual, even grind as I'm coming relentlessly inside that wet pussy.
That maddening, even stroke has my dick thumping and pounding so hard and my balls saluting magnificently. I squeeze my eyes shut and howl in agonizing satisfaction, the sound echoing in my ears…
The pain and pleasure are so deep that I open my eyes and I'm face down in my bed, sweating like a man on trial and coming so hard that my ass muscles hurt from the tension. I'm fucking my mattress and the orgasm is still going on and on and on. I'm gripping handfuls of my sheets, biting my pillow as I thrust into the mattress and still see her in my head, riding my cock.
"Golden! Golden! Golden!" I bite out into my pillow as my body comes so hard, I almost want to cry.
"Yes! Fuck! Yes!" I groan as I tremble through the intensity. When the orgasm finally wanes, I fall helplessly onto the bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover. I knew it was a dream. I knew it when I was fucking her, but I didn't care. I had to have her any way that I could, and that was the best fuck that never happened to me in my entire life.
I fall back into an exhausted sleep, pondering what tribute I'll be sending to my Mistress for this wonderful gift she'll never know she gave me.
A/N: Chris Cagney was one half of a female police duo from a series from the 80's called Cagney and Lacey. So, when Ana calls Bhingman "Cagney," she's referring to the cop show.
The Pinterest board for this story can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/fifty-shades-golden/.
You can join my mailing list on the "Contact Me" page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.


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Unique Personalised Books for Father's Day
- The Book of Dad£24.99
A personalised book all about the man himself - what more could he ask for?
- Wise(ish) Words for Golfers£19.99
A personalised gift to delight the Pro, the Novice or the golfer with everything!
- Wise(ish) Words for New Parents£19.99
A personalised gift full of fun advice to make every new parent smile.
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The ultimate personalised birthday gift to make someone's big day special.
- Wise(ish) Words for Everyone£19.99
A personalised gift for all ages packed with helpful wisdom for life.
- Wise(ish) Words for Cat Lovers£19.99
An original personalised gift for those who just adore cats.
- Wise(ish) Words for Dog Lovers£19.99
A personalised gift filled with humour for dog owners both new and old.

subset: commoncrawl


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HAMPDEN - Michael P. Bearse, 57, of Hampden passed away September 5, 2017. Michael, son of Charles and Joyce (Davenport) Bearse, was born in Dennis, Ma on September 1, 1960.
A graduate of Dennis-Yarmouth Regional High School, he went on to attain a Bachelor's Degree in Hotel/ Restaurant Management from U Mass Amherst. Michael was for over 35 years a district manager for the Springfield Republican newspaper.
Larger than life to all who knew him, Michael was the patriarch of the family and the rock that offered support to all – family, friends and anyone in need. Among his favorite things, were family game nights (always loud & boisterous), camping, boating, movies, concerts, and riding his Harley. Michael was an avid pool player and a member of the American Pool Players Association. Above all, Michael loved spending time with family.
In addition to his parents, he is survived by his three daughters, Charlotte Bearse of Springfield, Samantha Giancola of Grafton, and Courtney of Manchester, NH; his brother, Ronald Bearse and wife Patricia of Enfield, CT; sister Cheryl Kelly of CA; his grandchildren, nieces and nephew.
Visiting Hours Saturday, September 9, 2017 from 2PM to 4PM at Sampson's Chapel of the Acres Funeral Home, 21 Tinkham Road, Springfield. Burial will be private and at the convenience of the family.
In lieu of flowers, memorial donations in Michael's memory may be made to Motorcylcle Safety Foundation, 2 Jenner St., Suite 150, Irvine, CA 92618 www.msf-usa.org.


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I am just going to say it. Death to epic checklist. I just made an oath to stop creating epic or ultimate checklists. (Well I have one posting next week so after that one ?.) I also made a promise to stop using flat lay desktop images. I hope I am not shooting myself in the foot. Because these things are effective and cute. But this has got to stop. I personally am tired of seeing checklist, guides, and cute flat lay desktop pictures. I want variety.
It is not possible to create a brand that stands out when I look like everyone else. When Facebook came along it looked completely different from the big dog at the time Myspace (remember myspace?), you could put music, backgrounds, sparkling lights on myspace. I mean I really went all out. Then Facebook came and it was a plain blue and white newsfeed. You could not customize anything. But it worked (that's a major understatement). It was different. The newsfeed was different.
Now i have no clue what I am going to do because the market is flooded with flat lay desktop images and checklist. But I am excited because it is going to force me to think differently and truly stand out. I am ready for the challenge.
What are you tired of seeing?


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This song is simply incredible. You've probably heard it before, but its always worth a listen. One of the most amazing things about music is that notes can register with a person's soul. Aside from the lyrics (which are really good too in this song), a sound can speak to a person's heart and release emotion. I think that happens quite beautifully in this song. Give this live recording a listen…
Category: music
music that moves me
Felis Mubibya "Jina Lako Milele"
A friend just put out his music video and I thought I'd share it. If you aren't familiar with African music, this is a good introduction. It also helps that they've subtitled the song for those that don't speak Swahili. Worship music is very mainstream in Tanzania and Felis put up about the best quality African music video that I've seen. You can check his album out at tatepublishing.com Enjoy!
Mr. J Medeiros "Pale Blue Dot"
creative music that says something… what a concept


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Good Morning! Before I start in on my homework I just wanted to share my dinner from last night! I have been craving warm/comforting foods with all of this cold weather, so I went for a loaded sweet potato. It's kind of funny because I grew up DESPISING sweet potatoes, but now I LOVE them, especially any kind of baked sweet potato fries, YUM!
I just used a bunch of leftovers to make my topping: onions, mashed vegan boca burger, broccoli, and sauted it in the leftover Amy's Chunky Tomato Bisque (this was a surprisingly good idea by myself, ha)
Then I just added it to 1/2 the sweet potato and put it in my belly!
I can't eat a whole sweet potato, they are just too huge normally!
For dessert I tried a little treat I have seen on Fitnessistas website, a banana filled with almond butter!
This is obviously quite simple, but it was one of the most tasty things I have had in awhile! I also had a glass of Fat Bastard Chardonnay 🙂
Well, I am on call for work at 11 and I'd bet $500 that I'm not getting called in (since I don't think they have taken an on-call in weeks). Then I have to finish up a technical report for school and do some online questions. Pretty exciting day huh?!
Also, Thursday night is when I make dinner for Joey and we watch The Office. I am so excited! Off to the gym later too, I MUST lift today.
*Side note before I forget: Breakfast today was those insanely good Banana Pumpkin Almond Butter Oats!
That's it from here! Hope everyone has a wonderful day!
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: breakfast, Food for the Day |


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© Andreas Teien Hallman
Arper at Stockholm Design Week
6—12 February 2017
Cocktail party
7th February 2017
18.00h to 22.00h
Fair week opening time:
Wed-Fri: 09.00h to 18.00h
© Opio Group
Arper Showroom
Banérgatan 10
115 23 Stoccolma
Metro Karlaplan
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watch 02:45
The Loop (Games)
Do you like this video?
Jousun (ジョースン Jōsun?)[1] is an enemy that appears in in Sonic Advance 3. It is a mass-produced, swordfish-based Badnik model created by Dr. Eggman.
The Jousuns resemble green swordfish with a rocket thruster on their belly.
The Jousuns only appear in Ocean Base. In gameplay, they lurk just outside the Zone's climbable waterfalls, hovering up and down and waiting for their victim. Once the playable character gets in their line of sights, they will surround themselves in a green energy field and charge into the playable character at high speed, inflicting damage. Because of their placements and fast attack patterns, they can be tricky to avoid.
- ↑ (in Japanese) ソニックアドバンス3最強攻略ガイド. Shogakukan. July 2004. p. 20. ISBN 978-4091061737.
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.


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Carl Schmitt and the Law of Nations
Supervisor: Professor Duncan Kelly
College: Trinity Hall
Before coming to Cambridge, Joshua Smeltzer graduated with a BA in Peace and Conflict Studies from Colgate University and an M.Sc. in Politics, Economics and Philosophy from the University of Hamburg. While in Germany, he has held fellowships from both Fulbright and the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD). He also worked as a research assistant to Bernd Greiner at the Hamburg Institute for Social Research from 2015-2016.
Additionally, Joshua is the Co-organiser of the DAAD-Cambridge Hub Workshop 'Future Wishes are famously subverted': Reinhart Koselleck's Legacy in Germany and Beyond.
Research Interests
Modern Political and Legal Thought
International Law
20th Century German History
Just War
Key Publications
- Utopia and Utopianism in the Political Thought of Carl Schmitt, Journal of the History of Ideas (Accepted)
- Hans Wehberg and the jus belli ac pacis in Interwar International Law, Global Intellectual History (Online First, 2018)
- "Germany's Salvation": Carl Schmitt's Teleological History of the Second Reich, History of European Ideas 44 (2018)
- On the Use and Abuse of Francisco de Vitoria: James Brown Scott and Carl Schmitt, Journal of the History of International Law 20 (2018)
Book Chapters:
- "Carl Schmitt on the Theory and Practice of Occupation and Dictatorship" in International Law and History, eds. A. Brett, M. Donaldson and M. Koskenniemi. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). [Coauthored with Duncan Kelly].
Book Reviews:
- Ex Captivitate Salus by Carl Schmitt, ed. Andreas Kalyvas and Federico Finchelstein. History of Political Thought (Forthcoming 2018)
- Jens Meierhenrich. Remnants of the Rechtsstaat: An Ethnography of Nazi Law. London School of Economics Review of Books.
- Colonial Captivity during the First World War by Mahon Murphy. London School of Economics Review of Books.
- Assembly by Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, London School of Economics Review of Books
- Ordinary Virtues by Michael Ignatieff, London School of Economics Review of Books
- Marx, Capital and the Madness of Economic Reason by David Harvey, London School of Economics Review of Books


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Once you select any data on the dashboard, QlikView highlights the unavailable data in grey in order to show to users that those combinations don't exist or aren't possible.
Filters are not local. Once you filter something, the standard is to apply the filter to all tabs available in the dashboard.


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Intro: You don't need the mafia to step in during salary negotiations (but if you got connects there..well:). I like what Vivian Giang has to say on the subject and with other related topics below. – Ted O'
Vivian Writes: The salary negotiation is a tricky step for most job seekers. You don't want to undercut yourself, but you also need to determine how far you can push without offending hiring managers. Read Full Article:
"Use A Precise Number When Negotiating Your Salary" By VIVIAN GIANG
You might get a strange look from the hiring manager if you ask for a salary of $69,865, but don't let that stop you from getting what you want.
Researchers from Columbia Business School say that using precise instead of rounded numbers will give you a "potent" anchor for the counter offer. But why does a precise figure elicit a better counter offer than a round number? Read Full Article:
"25 Companies Where The Interview Process Is Brutal" – By MAX NISEN AND VIVIAN GIANG
For the third year in a row, consulting firm McKinsey & Company has been rated as having the most difficult interviewing process by employees.
Glassdoor's ranking placed McKinsey at a 3.9 difficulty rating out of 5.0, beating out tech giants like Google and Facebook, which were also in the top 25. The average interview difficulty rating on Glassdoor is 2.8.
Newcomers to this year's list include BlackRock, Microsoft Citrix, HubSpot, and Vistaprint. Read Full Article:
"30 Smart Answers To Tough Interview Questions" by VIVIAN GIANG
Tough interview questions are supposed to challenge job candidates and make them think on their feet. This could make the typical job interview "the most harrowing forty-five minutes of your life," writes Vicky Oliver in her book "301 Smart Answers to Tough Interview Questions."


text: A top-class public school with over 1000 pupils using this central quadrangle. Previously an impoverished tarmac school yard, we transformed the quad into an elegant water garden with a central rill and raised sedum beds. The design allows for free-flow of movement through the space, at the same time stimulating the senses with the sound of water, scented plants and visual delight


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Official 2015 Breeders' Cup Belt
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Are you ready to make a huge life change for the positive? Are you ready to change your bad habits into good habits? Are you ready to find balance? Are you ready to love yourself again? Do you need some accountability?
Every month I start a 90 day Challenge Group. The group is created on Facebook. It consists of no more than 15 women. It is a private group that only members have access to and see posts, informations and comments. It is perfectly safe.
As your coach I give you information, a lot of information. I help you eat clean, exercise, and find balance. I help you log your food and activity. I help you set goals and achieve those goals. I am there for you every step of the way. I will not give up on you!
The graduates of my Challenge Groups have incredible results. For the first time in their lives they find success with weight loss and exercise. They do not starve. I do not advocate extremeness on any level. The ages vary from people in their 20's to 70's. The most active posters and encouragers within the groups have the best results.
I would love to help YOU with your goals and your dreams. Please contact me for more details. 90 days from now you'll wish you'd started!


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James Earl Ray
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
|James Earl Ray
|File:James Earl Ray.gif
|March 10, 1928
Alton, Illinois, USA
|April 23, 1998 (aged 70)
Nashville, Tennessee
|Murder, prison escape,
armed robbery, forgery
|99 years imprisonment
|Anna Sandhu (divorced)
|James Gerald Ray
James Earl Ray (March 10, 1928–April 23, 1998) was convicted of the assassination of American civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on April 4, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee, having pled guilty, forgoing a jury trial. A habitual criminal, Ray was sentenced to 99 years in prison. Later he recanted his confession and unsuccessfully tried to gain a trial. He died in prison of hepatitis C.
Early life
James Earl Ray came from a poor family in Alton, Illinois, and left school at age 15. He joined the US Army during World War II and served in Germany. In 1949, he was convicted of his first crime, a burglary in California.
In 1952 he served two years for armed robbery of a taxi driver in Illinois. In 1955, he was convicted of mail fraud. After an armed robbery in Missouri in 1959, Ray was sentenced to 20 years as a habitual offender. In 1967, he escaped by hiding in a truck transporting bread from the prison bakery.[1]
Martin Luther King murder
On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King was staying at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. He was shot and killed by a sniper while standing on the motel's second-floor balcony.
Capture and trial
A little more than two months after King's death, on June 8, 1968, Ray was captured at London's Heathrow Airport while trying to leave the United Kingdom on a false Canadian passport. Alleged to have shot King, he was using the name of Ramon George Sneyd.[2] At the airport, officials noticed that Ray carried another passport under a second name. The UK quickly extradited Ray to Tennessee and charged him with King's murder. He confessed to the crime on March 10, 1969. Although three days later Ray recanted his confession, he pled guilty and was sentenced to 99 years in prison.[3] On the advice of his attorney, Percy Foreman, Ray took a guilty plea to avoid a potential trial conviction, which could have led to sentence of the death penalty. The method of execution in Tennessee would have been electrocution.
Ray fired Foreman as his attorney and from then on derisively called him "Percy Fourflusher". He claimed a man he met in Montreal, who used the alias "Raoul", had been deeply involved, as was his brother Johnny, but not himself. Ray further asserted that although he didn't "personally shoot Dr. King," he may have been "partially responsible without knowing it", hinting at a conspiracy. He spent the remainder of his life attempting unsuccessfully to withdraw his guilty plea and secure a trial.
On June 11, 1977, Ray made his second appearance on the FBI Most Wanted Fugitives list, this time as the 351st entry. He and six other convicts had escaped from Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary in Petros, Tennessee on June 10, 1977. They were recaptured on June 13, three days later, and returned to prison.[4]
A year was added to Ray's previous sentence, to total 100 years. Shortly after, Ray testified that he did not shoot King to the House Select Committee on Assassinations.
Later developments
In 1997, King's son Dexter met with Ray, and publicly supported his efforts to obtain a retrial. Loyd Jowers, a restaurant owner in Memphis, was brought to civil court and sued as being part of a conspiracy to murder Martin Luther King. Jowers was found legally liable, and the King family was awarded $100 in restitution. The amount was to show they were not pursuing the case for financial gain.
Dr. William Pepper, a friend of King in the last year of his life, represented Ray in a televised mock trial to try to get him the trial he never had. Pepper next represented the King family in a wrongful death civil trial against Loyd Jowers. The King family has now concluded that Ray did not have anything to do with the murder of Martin Luther King.[5]
Ray died in prison on April 23, 1998, at the age of 70, from complications related to kidney disease and liver failure caused by hepatitis C. He probably contracted the disease by a blood transfusion given after a stabbing while at Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary. Ray was survived by seven brothers and sisters. His brother Jerry Ray told CNN that his brother did not want to be buried or have his final resting place in the United States because of "the way the government has treated him." Ray was cremated and his ashes were flown to Ireland, home of his family's ancestors.[6]
Further reading
- Ray, James Earl, Who Killed Martin Luther King?: The True Story by the Alleged Assassin, Washington D.C.: National Press Books, 1992, ISBN 0915765934
- Pepper, William, An Act of State: The Execution of Martin Luther King
- Posner, Gerald, Killing the Dream: James Earl Ray and the Assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.
- Ray, James Earl with Saussy, Tupper, Tennessee Waltz: The Making of a Political Prisoner
- McMillan, George, The Making of an Assassin
- Heathrow, John, Why Did He Do It?
- Melanson, Dr. Phillip H., The Martin Luther King Assassination: New Revelations on the Conspiracy and Cover-Up, 1968-1991
- Green, Jim, Blood and Dishonor on a Badge of Honor
- ^ "James Earl Ray: The Man Who Killed Dr. Martin Luther King". Crime Library. http://www.crimelibrary.com/terrorists_spies/assassins/ray/3.html. Retrieved 2008-06-25.
- ^ Borrell, Clive (June 28, 1968). "Ramon Sneyd denies that he killed Dr King". The Times (London): p. 2. http://archive.timesonline.co.uk/tol/viewArticle.arc?articleId=ARCHIVE-The_Times-1968-06-28-02-006&pageId=ARCHIVE-The_Times-1968-06-28-02. Retrieved January 13, 2009.
- ^ http://www.upi.com/Audio/Year_in_Review/Events-of-1969/Chappaquiddick/12303189849225-7/ "1969 Year in Review, UPI.com"
- ^ "Federal Bureau of Investigation - History of Knoxville Office". FBI. http://knoxville.fbi.gov/hist.htm. Retrieved 2008-06-25.
- ^ "Complete Transcript of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Assassination Conspiracy Trial". The King Center. http://www.thekingcenter.org/KingCenter/Transcript_trial_info.aspx. Retrieved 2009-07-07.
- ^ "Autopsy confirms Ray died of liver failure". CNN. http://www.cnn.com/US/9804/24/ray.autopsy.pm/index.html. Retrieved 2008-06-25.


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Investor wishes was that his apartment has obtained a modern style. Interior design therefore took into consideration the use of a chrome furniture and attractive design ceiling in the bedroom, the statement of wood with mosaic and tiles in the bathroom and the division of living for 2 zone - luminous kitchen and stylish living area. In the interior is dominated by grays and blacks, broken a few elements with intense color, such as red cushions in the living room.
3esdesign projektowanie wnętrz Tarnów ul. Lwowska 4, tel. 14 639 08 26 (en)
Copyrights © grupa3es
Warsaw ApartmentArea: 70 m2
Style: style


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"This month we demonstrate a love of Arcade Games! We believe play is an ideal way to learn.
So in the latest issue of The MagPi, you'll find three great game projects bundled together. So power-up your coding, buff your digital making skills, and get ready to play with these fun projects.
Build a Pinball Machine. Our step-by-step guide will have you making your own ball flipper in no time.
Play PC Games. Turn a Raspberry Pi into a Steam Link machine and stream Windows PC games directly to your humble Pi.
Code a 3D adventure. Start the greatest adventure of all: making your own full videogame."


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Introduction: Mousetrap Tractor
How to build the mousetrap tractor
Step 1:
First you need your materials.
-Two small Records
-1 mousetrap
-1 ruler
-1 wooden Squier
-1 wooden block
-4 pieces of duct tape
-As many paperclips that are needed(depends on the size)
-4 double 00 stoppers for test tubes
Step 2:
Step 3:
You take one of the pieces of duct tape and put it on one side of the record to make the hole smaller. Then you take another piece of the tape and put it on the other side of the record. After you have done that then you repeat the following steps for the second record.
Step 4:
First you poke the squier through the duct tape in the middle so it creates a hole. Then you do the same thing to the other record.
Step 5:
Then you put one of the test tubes on the squier and then put the squier through the hole in the duct tape and then you put the other test tube on the out side of the record. After you have done that then you hot glue the test tube to the record on both sides so it will make the record stable.
Step 6:
Finally you hot glue the mousetrap on the wooden block and cut out a small square at the bottom of the mousetrap. After that you drill a hole on the sides of the mousetrap that is attached to the wooden block. Then you stick the wooden Squier through the hole in the mousetrap and attach the other record. After you have done that you take a paper clip and unbend it.Then attach it to the snap trap part and hook the other end of paper clip to the wooden Squier.
Step 7:
After you have done all the steps your mousetrap is ready for action! Then you take a pair of wire cutters and cut the paper clip and your mousetrap should go.
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Great looking mousetrap vehicle! I've always found that they either work really well, or really poorly. I'd love to see a video of yours rolling around.


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Community Amenities
- Online Payments Available
Free e-check option
Accepts credit card payments
Accepts cash payments via MoneyGram
- Fitness Center
- Ample off-street parking
- Clubhouse with billiards, TVs and reading library
- Convenient to 93 & 293
- Online Payments
- Online Work Orders
Apartment Amenities
Certain floor plans may have different amenities depending on when they were updated, what building they're in, etc. To tour our floor plans and see what amenities may be available, please call us at (603) 389-6723
One parking permit for one bedroom apartment. Two permits for two bedroom apartment homes, with street parking available.
Apartments In Manchester NHAn apartment community is only as good as the features and amenities offered to its residents. Here at Colonial Village, we offer apartments in Manchester NH with awesome amenities in and out of your apartment.
Inside of your apartment, you will find top-notch appliances, an updated and remodeled kitchen, carpeted floors, and an attached balcony or patio area, depending on your layout. All of our floor plans are equipped with air conditioning capabilities to maximize your comfort when relaxing at home.
Outside of your apartment, our apartment community is full of great amenities that are meant to be enjoyed. Head outdoors to the beautifully landscaped grounds and have fun at the playground area, the swimming pool, or the tennis or basketball courts for a match with your friends. It's a great place for all in our pet-friendly community!
If you'd rather relax indoors but take a break from being in your apartment, we also have a fully equipped indoor fitness center and clubhouse available for your use.
To learn more about all of our available amenities, call or contact us to schedule a tour. We'd love to hear from you!


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Yoshiwara is sustained by corrupt government officials, an area that is ignored by the government and beyond the reach of law. Once a city of eternal night ruled by Housen, Kamui is the current overlord in charge of this place under the jurisdiction of the Harusame, after its predecessor Housen was killed. Kamui is indifferent to being the new overlord, and did not even station his men there, much less administer the district.
Elevators are used to access the city, and as it was once a shipyard for building and repairing Bakufu ships, its ceiling is actually a large hatch that was opened during its liberation. Previously perpetually covered by roof as the overlord is from the Yato Tribe (and so having an aversion to sunlight), it is now open to the sky even though the current overlord is of Yato blood as well.


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Philippine President Duterte: Drug dealers face 'jail or hell'
After telling protesters to "shut up" near the start of his State of the Nation speech, Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte again warned drug dealers in his country they would face "jail or hell."
The fiery and unpredictable Duterte initially faced off against thousands of protesters who showed up to demonstrate during his speech to Congress on Monday.
The protesters demanded Duterte deliver on promises made in his first State of the Nation speech last year and interrupted him by shouting "we want peace talks!" To which he responded: "Shut up first. I don't want to face you if you are like that."
The government recently halted preliminary peace talks with communist rebels after attacks on Philippine security forces last week.
Some lawmakers protested Duterte as well, including one wearing hand painted clothing with messages about Martial Law. Duterte won congressional approval on Saturday for an extension of Martial Law in the south of the country where the government is dealing with pro-ISIS militants. Other protesters wore beading with the words "Regular Jobs Now."
Duterte reiterated his plea for Congress to re-impose the death penalty for drug offenders and other criminals, and said he would not stop his deadly crackdown on illegal drugs.
"The fight will not stop until those who deal in (drugs) understand that they have to stop because the alternatives are either jail or hell," he said.
Duterte also addressed the United States in his speech by demanding America give back three church bells that were seized more than a century ago in the Philippine village of Balangiga.
"Give us back those Balangiga bells…They are part of our national heritage ... return it to us, this is painful for us," Duterte said in the speech at the House of Representatives -- with the U.S. ambassador in attendance.
Duterte is the Philippines' 16th president and the annual State of the Nation speech was only his second during his non-renewable term 6-year term.
The Associated Press contributed to this report.


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By William JA Pinnock
Welcome back to the Link Round Up! We've been a bit spotty over the course of the past couple weeks, lots and lots has been going on, but do not for one second think I've forgotten about giving updates on the latest news stories. So as an olive branch to say I'm sorry for not posting as much lately, this week I have rounded up QUITE a batch of articles (even one from outside of the US, only the second time we have done that!).
It shouldn't come as a shock to anyone that the new administration is not the biggest fan of the Affordable Care Act (ACA). But what really is the cost of repealing the ACA? And what is the current threat of repealing it doing to health centers that serve populations who rely on it? NPR recently interviewed individuals at three community health centers (including one OCHIN member Saban Community Clinic) about how the threat of repealing the ACA is effecting their health centers.
Did you know that under the ACA programs called teaching health centers were created? This is a program designed to help increase the number of doctors working in underserved and rural areas. Capital Public Radio, out of Sacramento, CA profiled one of these teaching health centers in Redding, CA. Read or listen to the story here.
There has been a lot of negativity floating around the US regarding health and social policies, so let's take a break from that and travel to Australia, where a focus on social determinants of health is helping to improve the health care for Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander people with Acute Coronary Syndrome. The project titled Lighthouse Hospital Toolkit looks to create "systemic change in acute care….[and is] built on the principle that a greater understanding of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander peoples' cultures, as well as a better understanding of political, social and historical factors…". Read more about the Lighthouse Hospital Toolkit and the work being done in Australia.