Friday, September 15, 2017

Would you know him - or her - if you met? (#fiction #science #giveaway @HPeterAlesso)


Dark Genius cover

Blurb

To the insatiably curious—science is the greatest adventure. So, when scientists at CERN announced the discovery of the ‘God’ particle in 2012, all the world wondered, “How did they find it?”

A decade later, despite his past academic failures and egregious family circumstance, Andrew Lawrence embarked on a journey of discovery, competing against rival scientists to be the first to solve the greatest unsolved mystery of the universe—dark matter—and win the ultimate prize; the Nobel.

Emma Franklin, a PhD candidate at Harvard, developed software for detecting particle reactions using a quantum computer. To the amazement and excitement of the scientific community, her work revealed two possible bumps in the energy curve that were not predicted by any established theory.

At MIT, Lawrence created a model that predicted the scattering processes of a dark matter supersymmetry particle. Though his early work was disparaged, he improved his theory and found that it predicted the data Emma had discovered. Their professional collaboration deepened into a personal relationship, but when critical data was stolen, Emma found evidence that incriminated Lawrence. Though she withheld the impeaching material from the authorities, she felt she could no longer trust him.

Despite their troubled partnership, and notwithstanding the complexities of nature, Lawrence and Emma persevered against the egos, jealousy, and envy of rivals, on their exhilarating quest to find the ‘Holy Grail’ of physics

Excerpt

I thought all was lost—now I have a second chance.

With a profound sense of relief, Andrew Lawrence slide his tablet into his shoulder holster and walked briskly along the Boston sidewalk. His past academic failures and egregious family circumstances were behind him. He was ready for a fresh start.

Tall, slender, and dark-haired, he listened to the clicking and clacking of shuffling shoes on the pavement as students jostled alongside him. The hint of autumn from the cool morning air brought a frenzy of activity to the sprawling campuses of both MIT and Harvard which nurtured a flourishing rivalry among their ambitious students. He could feel the undercurrent of tension for the start of the fall term.

By the time he crossed Longfellow Bridge, his adrenaline was pumping. He noticed several eight-man sculls already rowing down the Charles River, their school colors plainly visible. Squinting his eyes against the glare, he could make out the MIT and Harvard boats vying for the lead, stroke by stroke.

Striding across the rambling campus, his lips concealed a secret smile as he contemplated a revolutionary solution to a problem he had been daydreaming about. When he swung around a corner, he ran smack-dab into a young woman. Her armload of books, papers, and assorted technology flew into the air and scattered across the walkway.

Sor . . . sorry.”

You should be,” the woman said, her face screwed into a tight scowl. “Your head was in the clouds.”

Lawrence opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she pointed down and said, “See what you’ve done?”

She stooped and frantically tried to corral her absconding belongings.

Let me help,” said Lawrence, grasping some loose papers about to blow away.

Spying her tablet on the grass, she exclaimed, “Oh no! All my work.”

Carefully, she picked up the device and turned it on, tapping her fingers impatiently until the screen lit up. She heaved a sigh and looked Lawrence directly in the eyes. “You’re lucky. Sooo . . . lucky.”

Lawrence mumbled another apology and helped her pick up the last few books.

As she struggled to reorganize her treasures, Lawrence brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and for the first time cast an appraising glance at the young woman.

She was attractive.

It wasn’t that she was a striking beauty—though her smooth white skin, olive green eyes, and classic profile complemented the hazelnut hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Nor was her carriage especially eye-catching, though she displayed an appealing youthful vitality. No, what seemed most appealing was her confident determined poise, as if she possessed a special hidden talent.

You really should use a backpack.”

The lining ripped,” she retorted.

Seeing the logos on her tablet’s screen, Lawrence asked, “Harvard? Math?”

I can tell by your tone that you’re MIT,” she said, her eyes flashing.

Lawrence grinned, “Physics.” As an afterthought, he asked, “What are you doing on this campus?”

Well, Mr. Physics, that’s none of your concern.”

Something in the way she said it, caused him to laugh.

They faced each other in a stand-off for a long moment—saying nothing.

Then the young woman heaved a sigh, gathered her possessions to her chest, and brushed past him.

Lawrence watched her figure disappear into the crowd.

Damn. I didn’t get her name.

As he turned to leave, something shiny on the ground caught his eye. It was a flash drive.
Picking it up, he spun around and called, “Wait!”

But she was gone.

He looked at the memory stick, thinking . . .

I’ll have to crack her password, if I’m going to see her again.



Get your copy today! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075HVG2Z9

About the Author

As a scientist and author specializing in technology innovation, H. Peter Alesso has over twenty years research experience at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory (LLNL). As Engineering Group Leader at LLNL he led a team of scientists and engineers in innovative applications across a wide range of supercomputers, workstations, and networks. He graduated from the United States Naval Academy with a B.S. and served in the U.S. Navy on nuclear submarines before completing an M.S. and an advanced Engineering Degree at M.I.T. He has published several software titles and numerous scientific journal and conference articles, and he is the author/co-author of ten books.



Email: h.alesso [at] comcast [dot] net


The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.




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Thursday, September 14, 2017

Sometimes, truth IS stranger than fiction (#fantasy #handcuffs #lawyers @SeelieKay)


The Garage Dweller cover
By Seelie Kay (Guest Blogger)

About three years ago, I found a teenager living in my garage.

At the time, I was recovering from a leg injury, so I hadn’t been using my car and it was kept in the garage. My son was my official chauffeur and he had his own car, which was parked on the driveway. I had no reason to go out into the garage. It was pure happenstance that I asked my son to use my car to run some errands that day.

As I always did, I opened the door between the house and garage, hit the opener, and waited for my son to help me out to the car. I remember picking my car keys up off of the kitchen table, wondering why they weren’t in the bowl by the door.
When we walked out into the garage, I began to scream. On the floor was a sleeping bag, with a pillow covered with a case in a pattern I recognized (from my son’s bed) and a blanket I had been looking for everywhere. Next to it was a military knapsack, a radio plugged into an outlet, and a pile of food, wrappers, and empty cans. On the other side of my car was a table and chair that had been sitting on my deck, with an open can of soda sitting on the table. The passenger seat in my car was inclined, as if someone had been sleeping there.

I turned to my son and said, “Start taking photos.” Then I called the police. We went back into the house to wait. By the time the police arrived, the squatter had grabbed his things and we thought, disappeared. But after a careful search, the police found a boy hiding under my deck. It turned out it was someone we knew, well.

We soon discovered that the squatter, who visited my home often, had been leaving doors unlocked when he left at the end of the day. Then he reentered my home at night, using the laundry, stealing food, and generally hanging out in the basement.
My son worked nights at the time and prior to leaving for work, he would make sure I was safely settled onto the second floor of my home. I was still relatively immobile and could not easily move between the floors. That meant I could not investigate noises I thought I heard. The boy knew I was recovering from a broken leg and took advantage.

However, I had complained about noises to my son. Several times I had texted him at work and insisting someone was in the house. I also kept telling him that food I knew I had purchased was missing, such as peanut butter, bread, cheese, and sandwich meat. But my son was convinced the pain killers I was taking were messing with my head. I admit that I felt a small bit of satisfaction when it was proved that I was not a crazy old lady after all!

Once the boy was removed from the premises, I significantly increased the security in my home, got an order of protection, and attempted to deal with the fact that we had unknowingly been at risk. Then the incident took its real toll. My son became to have nightmares. I had an MS exacerbation (attack) that seriously compromised my legs. We were coping the best we could, but obviously, not enough.

So when I volunteered to write a Summer Short for my publisher, eXtasy Books, I decided to take the bull by the horns. What better way to deal with a trauma than to write about it? So I did. I wrote a fictionalized account of the incident, included our feelings of outrage and betrayal, and added a romance between the homeowner and the police chief. The Garage Dweller was born.

It is important to note that while the actual garage dweller inspired the story, I was careful to fictionalize everything, from the boy’s age to the other characters involved. The similarities begin and end with the discovery that someone was living in my garage and had accessed my house. I wrestled with how much actual information I could supply—even through the incident is a matter of public record—and decided to err on the side of caution. I did not want to become the target of a frivolous lawsuit. God knows, the courts are flooded with way too many of those.

I think the blurb for this story pretty much says it all:

Criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant is skilled at emasculating witnesses and hogtying juries, but she is unprepared to deal with a homeless teenager found living in her garage. The boy she has known since childhood wages an unwinnable battle to stay in her home, as Constant struggles to protect her family. Ultimately, the threat to her safety and emotional well-being mounts, and Julianna pushes back, falling right into the arms of the new police chief, a man who always carries two sets of handcuffs and uses them for more than just restraining criminals!”

Sadly, I do not know the local police chief, though I am sure he is quite handsome and carries at least one set of handcuffs. However, this is fiction, remember?

Unfortunately, for my son and I, the story was far from over. We still had bad moments, mostly triggered by some reminder of the event. Then I began to dream about what would happen if The Garage Dweller returned, and Chapter Six of Kinky Briefs, ThriceTeafoolery—was born. In that story, Juliana and the Chief have married and are happily ensconced in her home. When The Garage Dweller returns to seek his revenge, it is with disastrous results. Julianna and the Chief are forced to look inside themselves and decide what the word, “justice,” truly means.

I am enamored with the romance between the Chief Manders and Julianna Constant, primarily because I am also in middle age, and like so many in my age group, like to believe that love can happen at any age. Besides, this is one lusty couple! I think it is safe to predict that they will return in another edition of Kinky Briefs. I have no idea when or where The Garage Dweller might reappear. I guess I’ll have to see where my dreams take me.

Giveaway! Leave me a comment with your email below, and I will enter you into a drawing for one of two prizes: a copy of The Garage Dweller or a Kinky Briefs mug. (Mug for U.S. entrants only.)

The Garage Dweller

Criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant is skilled at emasculating witnesses and hog-tying juries, but she is unprepared to deal with a homeless teenager found living in her garage. The boy she has known since childhood wages an unwinnable battle to stay in her home, as Constant struggles to protect her family. Ultimately, the threat to her safety and emotional well-being mounts, and Julianna pushes back, falling right into the arms of the new police chief, a man who always carries two sets of handcuffs and uses them for more than just restraining criminals!

Excerpt

I walked down the stairs, Manders behind me, and turned into the living room. On the sofa, his hands bound with flexi-cuffs, sat a kid I had known since he was in kindergarten.

What the hell, Mikey?” I exclaimed. “You’re the one who has been sneaking around my house in the middle of the night?”

Mikey had the decency to look ashamed. “It’s not like that,” he began.

Danny shoved the front door open and hurried in. He spotted Mikey and fury clouded his face. He walked up to Mikey and slapped his head. “What the fuck, Mike? What the hell are you doing scaring my Mom half to death?” He picked up the phone and took a photo. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t post this on Facebook…Tell the police the truth or I am going to slap your ass all over the Internet.”

Buy Links





Kinky Briefs, Thrice

Take a kinky romp through lawyerland!

Lawyers get their kink on in this sizzling collection of short stories. Through the eyes of a lawyer toiling away in the backroom of a law firm, a wicked window into the legal world opens as she spins her outrageous tales of lawyers in love, cranky judges, and those who serve them. From a randy AG who uses his cycle to woo a young law firm associate to a Sheikh and lawyer in a fight for their lives, or a kinky lawyer struggling to adapt to a diagnosis of a crippling, chronic illness to a rowdy fantasy about a new sheriff in town, each lawyer attacks life with humor and passion, always ready to embrace just a dash of kink. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you might even blush, but one thing’s for certain, when you’re done reading, you’ll run out and buy a set of handcuffs!

Excerpt

Chapter Six-Teafoolery

Just when you think you’ve closed the door, it is pushed back open and new trouble comes tumbling in. It began with a homeless boy, a garage, and a criminal defense attorney, and as any good fantasy should, it ended with an attorney and police chief so hot he set every woman’s naughty bits a shudder. He’s the partner everyone wants to lean on, especially when the past returns to haunt you. A continuation of “The Garage Dweller,” featured in eXtasy Book’s 2017 Summer Shorts, the attorney and the chief return to defend against a boy’s revenge.

***
Click! Julianna sat up with a start. “David, is the alarm on?”

Yes, I turned it on before we headed upstairs.” The smoke alarms went off and a disembodied voice declared, “Fire! Evacuate! Fire! Evacuate!”

They quickly pulled on robes and headed downstairs. David called the Fire Department as they searched the house for smoke. They found nothing. Finally, he opened the door to the deck and ran outside. Up against the house, a garbage can was emitting a swirl of black smoke. He kicked the can away from the house and grabbed a hose, releasing a stream of water to douse the flames. The can was smoldering by the time the Fire Department arrived.

Damn, Chief, you must have pissed someone off,” one of the firemen said.

David frowned. “More likely Jules. She’s the one who lives life on the edge.”

Julianna came out onto the deck and surveyed the melted pile of rubble on her lawn. “I told Selia he wasn’t done. I bet it was Reverend Blume or one his minions. I’m the one who blasted him in front of his followers. He has a score to settle with me. It would be too obvious if he went after Selia again.”

David turned to the fireman. “Reilly, let’s leave everything as is and call the arson squad. You don’t set a fire next to a house unless you want it to spread.” He turned and peered under the eaves of the house. “Looks like he took out the camera on the deck, but missed this one here.” He pointed at the second spotlight up in the eaves.
This might have caught something. I’ll have the security company run it in the morning.”

Publisher: eXtasy Books
Amazon: coming
Barnes and Noble: coming

About Seelie Kay

Seelie Kay engages in flights of fancy about lawyers in love, drawing on a vivid imagination, an inquisitive mind, and more than 25 years in the legal world.

After stints as a journalist and lawyer, Seelie hung out her shingle as a freelance writer, editor, and author. When not spinning her kinky tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals.

Seelie resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. We will find a cure!



Twitter: @SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay


Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Ingredients of Bliss (#menage #bdsm #MFRWHooks)



Ingredients of Bliss cover

Wednesday again, which means it’s time for another Marketing For Romance Writers Book Hooks blog hop!

Check out my blurb and hook, from my outrageous BDSM ménage novel TheIngredients of Bliss. Then go visit some of the other authors “hooking” you today!

Blurb

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei LeeEmilyWong knows exactly what she wantsher own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just cant resistespecially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asksin the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emilys limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harrys and Etiennes lives. The secret shes been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?

 

The Hook (Rated R)

He broke the kiss and raised himself up on his forearms, gazing down at me. “I love you, Emily.” He didn’t need to say the words. The truth blazed in his face.

I love you too. I choked on the admission, unable to give back what he needed and deserved. How could I say I loved him after what had happened yesterday? Miserable, confused, drowning in self-reproach, I remained silent.

It’s about Etienne, isn’t it?”

What?His insight shocked me into a response.UmnoI mean…”

Whatever else you may or may not feel, don’t lie to me. Please.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and scanned his handsome face. I saw no trace of anger. In fact, a hint of a grin played on his lips. I nodded.

Tell me. Every detail.”

I can’t…”

Mei Lee Wong, I swear that if you dont confess this instant, Ill thrash you with that paddle we bought last week until you can barely walk!Yet even as he voiced this threat, he levered himself off my body and thrust two fingers into my pussy, triggering a spasm of exquisite pleasure.

How could I refuse him?



Buy Links (available in ebook and print, too!)

Totally Bound (with special bonus chapter!):

Amazon:

BN:


Visit some of today’s other Book Hooks posts!


Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Review Tuesday: The Ages of Lulu by Almudena Grandes (#sadomasochism #obsession #ReviewTuesday)


Ages of Lulu cover

The Ages of Lulu by Almudena Grandes
Seven Stories Press, 2005

First published in the U.S. in 1995 by Barney Rossett's infamous Grove Press, The Ages of Lulu is a controversial pseudo-memoir of a woman's sexual odyssey from childhood to maturity. When it was released, the book was been widely condemned as exploitative and shallow. Publisher's Weekly wrote: “this luridly inventive first novel strives to shock but instead proves that a woman's quasi-pornographic erotic fiction can be as mechanical, repetitive, graphic and cerebral as men's contribution to the genre.”

I couldn't disagree more. When I read the book a few years ago. I found it to be an intelligent and arousing chronicle of the obsessive relationship between a woman and the man who is her brother's friend, her ravisher, her husband, and ultimately, the master who keeps her sane.

Lulu is fifteen when the story begins, a Catholic schoolgirl hopelessly in love with her brother's best mate Pablo. Pablo is twelve years her senior. Lulu is precocious – she masturbates with her brother's recorder on a dare – but full of the confusions and misconceptions of any teen. When Pablo takes her virginity on the floor of his mother's atelier, the experience is not exactly pleasurable, but it is enough to bind her to him for life. He encourages her sexual experimentation, and she is eager to obey his suggestions.

When Pablo returns from a jail term for political crimes (the novel is set in Spain under Franco), he and Lulu embark on an unconventional marriage in which he seeks out other women and she finds her pleasure in the company of gay men and transvestites, sometimes with Pablo's participation and sometimes not. Their escapades together and apart become increasingly extreme and perverse. Finally, Pablo tricks her into participating in a ménage that includes her own brother. Disgusted and disturbed by Pablo's duplicity, she leaves him and goes off on her own, but she cannot escape his influence. As she plunges deeper into an underworld of sadomasochistic excess, she tells herself that she is following her own desires, but in truth she is a rudderless outcast, seeking satisfaction that only his love and attention can provide.

The Ages of Lulu does involve a wide variety of sexual situations and activities. However, what I found most erotic about the book was the interplay between Pablo and Lulu, the way he educates her and urges her to act out her fantasies – and his. Their relationship is far from healthy, based as it is on a love that borders on obsession. Arrogant and self-involved, Pablo views Lulu as his creation and his property. Meanwhile Lulu's sexual adventures are ultimately for his pleasure as much as for her own – to win his approval and respect. Nevertheless, their convergent and complementary fantasies are believable and compelling. Even in her thirties, to him, she will always be his little girl, the horny teen whom he initiated into sex. He will always be her goad, her mentor and her comfort.

The Publisher's Weekly review (http://www.amazon.com/Ages-Lulu-Almudena-Grandes/dp/0802133487/) focuses mainly on all the kinky sex in the book: “an almost fetishistic obsession with sadomasochism, bondage, oral sex, sodomy, depilation, masturbation, voyeurism and so forth.” (Is there such a thing as a non-fetishistic obsession?) That is not what I remember about The Ages of Lulu. Long after I've forgotten about the specific sex scenes, I remember the erotic charge that Pablo and Lulu share, as he dares her to do the things she wants to do anyway.

Monday, September 11, 2017

She wants to save the world. He wants to be left alone. (#giveaway #romance @MicahPersell)


Uncharted Waters cover


When a hermit and a scientist are snowbound in a cabin in the woods, the sparks they generate just might melt it all down in this scorching and sensual romance.

Scientist Bethany Morgan discovers the schematics to a world-changing recycling system that will help her realize her greatest dream: providing clean water to the world. The only problem? She must track down the creator, a Dr. Anderson, to help her complete the prototype, and he’s been missing for decades.

James Anderson has clung to the quiet, pain-free existence he’s made in the mountains since his father’s death years ago. But when the determined scientist he rescued gets snowed in at his cabin for an undetermined time, his world is turned upside down...

Excerpt

Her pillow would not stop wiggling. She gritted her teeth, furrowing her brow. Cracking one eye, she found herself staring at flannel. A short distance away, her hand lay sprawled across a row of buttons. As she watched, her hand rose and fell.

Ah, not a pillow, then. James.

She opened her other eye and raised her head a bit, gazing down at their bodies. She was all over him, plastered against his side with her arm across his chest and her leg across his thighs.

She didn’t know what had happened to James’s fastidious blanket wall, but she’d probably had something to do with its demise. She craned around enough to look over her shoulder without relinquishing her hold on her lumberjack pillow.

The blanket was on the floor beside the bed.

About the Author

Micah Persell lives in Southern California with her husband, 1.7 children, and menagerie of pets. She writes romance with strong women, smart minds, and scorching love. 

Visit her online at www.micahpersell.com, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MicahPersell, and on Twitter @MicahPersell.

Buy Links







Micah will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Charity Sunday: Amnesty International (#HumanRights #CharitySunday #refugees)


Charity Sunday banner

It’s Sunday again, the second Sunday in September, which means that here at Beyond Romance, it is Charity Sunday.

Let me explain how this works, in case you are new to my blog. One Sunday a month, I feature a particular charity that is important to me personally. I’ll tell you a bit about what they do and give you links so you can find out more. Then I’ll share an excerpt from one of my stories (just to keep things entertaining) and ask for your opinion in a comment.

For every comment I receive, I will donate $1 to the month’s charity.

Thanks to everyone who commented last month. I rounded up the number of comments and donated $20 to Oxfam. At that time, an anonymous donor was matching all contributions, so thanks to you, mine was doubled to $40. That might not seem like much, but if every one of us gave that much, we could eradicate hunger.

In any case, my selected charity this month is Amnesty International, a worldwide organization that has been working for human rights for more than fifty years. You may be familiar with Amnesty’s grass-roots letter writing campaigns to free prisoners of conscience—individuals who are imprisoned solely because of their political or religious beliefs. Unfortunately, there are thousands of such people around the world. The organization also works to eradicate torture and capital punishment, and advocates for the rights of women and minorities.


Given the natural disasters currently afflicting the globe (hurricanes in the Atlantic, earthquakes in Mexico, devastating floods in India and Nepal, and so on) you may wonder why I am not focusing on some relief charity like the Red Cross. To be honest, I believe that worldwide, crises in human rights are more serious, and ultimately affect everyone, not just people in vulnerable locations. In many countries (and not just in the so-called “third world”), we can see a disturbing trend towards totalitarianism, a lack of accountability and a total disregard for fundamental human rights. Human rights abuse in one country, if allowed to persist, encourages other governments or groups to follow suit. This phenomenon is insidious and dangerous, but much less flashy and obvious than smashed houses or submerged hospitals. Amnesty International shines the light of conscience on the inhumane practices that are all too common these days.

Anyway, if you believe that it is important to treat human beings—all human beings— with compassion, respect and dignity, I hope you’ll leave a comment below. As it happens, Amnesty also has a donor matching contributions during the month of September, so every comment means $2 for human rights.

For this month’s excerpt, I’ve gone back to my short story “Refuge”, which is clearly relevant to my charity. This story is available in the altruistic anthology Coming Together: At Last (V1), which as it happens also supports Amnesty International. So if you buy a copy, you’re contributing twice!


The story is a romance between a woman from an ethnic minority in Myanmar, who is living in a refugee camp on the Thai border, and a Thai soldier assigned to the camp.

Here’s a (non-erotic) snippet. Please do leave me a comment and do a bit for human rights.



She raised her eyes. I was startled to see that they were dark blue, like dusk behind the mountains. Also they were glistening with tears. “I need to ask your help again. Something much more serious.”

On impulse, I grasped her hands, gently releasing her tense grip. Her nails were bitten down to the quick. The creases in her palms were embedded with grime. Nevertheless, her skin was deliciously soft. Sympathetic tears pricked at my eyes. “What is it? How can I help you?”

It’s Su. One of the children. She’s very sick. Diarrhea and a high fever.”

Did you bring her to the infirmary?”

They said it was probably just some bad fish. That they couldn’t do anything. I think she needs to go to the hospital. She’s burning up.”

The hospital? In Mae Sot? That’s more than two hours away!”

I went to ask the commander for permission to take her. He wouldn’t even let me into his office.” She tried to kneel before me. I stopped her, terribly embarrassed, not to mention worried that someone would see her. “Please, Khun Nu. She’s much worse today than she was last night. She doesn’t even know who I am.”

What can I do? I started to answer. I can’t do anything. I’m practically a prisoner here myself. But the desperation and hope I saw mingled in her face stopped my voice.

We would need a jeep...” I remembered when the commander sent Kai and me to town, a month ago, to pick up mail and supplies. Maybe I could convince him that we needed to make another run. “Let me see what I can do and I’ll let you know. Where can I find you?”

If you can get a jeep, tie this around one of the supports on the water tower.” She held out the shoelace that had been securing her ponytail. It has once been red. Her jet locks flowed over her shoulders in a shimmering cascade. A lump gathered in my chest as I gazed at her, so small and vulnerable, so brave. “I’ll meet you at the turn off for Baan Huay Bua, half a kilometer along the road. Around noon.”

But how...?”

She smiled. “There are exits. Gaps in the barbed wire. Places where it’s rusted away. We all know them.”

Then why don’t you leave?” I imagined her, free, dressed in bright, clean clothing, laughing with friends. Teaching in an actual school.

Where would I go? My village across the border? It’s gone, burned to the ground by the generals’ thugs. My parents were murdered. My sisters were raped. I have no idea where they are now. Without an identity card, I couldn’t get a decent job. Oh, maybe I could make it to Bangkok or Phuket and work in a bar. Flirt in exchange for drinks. Have sex with tourists. Would that really be any less of a prison than here?”

~~~~

 Remember: every comment is $2 for human rights!