writing material

Update: --------------- Homemade characters created for Omaha the Cat Dancer fan fiction _______________ Birth name: Colleen Kix Aliases:  Place of Birth: Unknown  Species type: Lapine Family: Unknown Friends: Susan "Omaha" Jensen Marital Status: Single  Legal Status: No criminal record Allies: Joanne Follet, Known Enemies: Chuck Katt Base of Operations: Mipple City, Minnasota  Education: College grad, Journalism major Occupation: Journalist, Prostitute  Group Affiliation: DeRoc Associate Press Former Affiliations: Unknown Height: 5'6 Eyes: Deep Blue Hair: Obsidian Black Complexion: Chalk White Distinguishing Features: Dark mole on her right cheek just below her right eye, long Lapine ears and poofy Lapine tail History: Colleen is a an anthropomorphic of Lapine background. Little is known about her history but since childhood she has been prone to speculating the world around her. During her childhood early on she found herself beginning to speculate the world s...

Trsting

In her own words that begins her story:  It was a busy Saturday night at the Kitty Korner. This night club had been my employer for years. The kind of environment it provides patrons was not really my kind of environment. There was the bar to the far left of the club and torward the opposing side the tables could be found. Most night seats were occopied by men, mostly. Sometimes women occupied a few at a time. It paid well though. Tips in cash were better than other joints I've worked at, small restaurants and a few diners during twelve years of my adult life behind me now.  The toughest part of my job to get passed wasnt the awful clingy toxic air filled with cigarettes and ashtrays, though a close second. It was the stage show. Women dancing on stage with not a single article of clothing. My cheeks must have been blushing the very first straight week through. The loud pounding speakers didn't help too much. Music for dancers making sexy swaying snakey moves is what customers...

My thighs drew in against each other. I continued drawing invisible circles near my neck. I felt them pressing tightly together. Muscles locking them in place preventing my hips from swaying left and right. The scrunch changed coarse.  🎶 Everytime she reaches fully blown 🎶 Behind my closed eyes, I was with Richard. We were in a hotel him. That wolf, on the bed laying back, my legs straddling his waist. He could feel the strength in my legs keeping him in place, while thrusting my hips forward, back, forward, back, forward, back, forward, back, continuously with hot stickiness being mashed against the most intimate space between him and I. His gray complexion beading with sweat. I push harder against him then grip his shoulders with the kind of tightness a pitcher grips a baseball at center field. My heart pounded, memory putting the feel of him inside without him being here. It might have been the surrounding steam and shower of water splashing my neck and pouring down between my...

Some typos for now but this is the beginning of her shower: "My long anticipating Lapine ears keenly in wait. Fingertip still pressed against the small button.  From nothing, a single controlled note of slow steady incoming increasing until leveling out when a one-two, one-two, one-two, ....a perfected continues steady drumbeat cueing in the sharp entrance of both from both base and guitar perfectly synchronizined and ongoing given its own space if time before Don's voice joins in.  🎶 Drive it on up for a while, leave your trouble behind 🎶 That is the moment I removed my fingertip from  the soft gray button, reaching for a bottle of bodywash resting on a small platform halfway down from the top of a tall light blue shower caddy mounted in the right corner. Slowly I wrapped all three fingers and thumb around, feeling condenscation beading along its cheap plastic exterior against my palm." Continuation of shower scene: With my other hand I reached for my red shower scrung...

In Colleen's own words (note the heron is an an image on her shower curtain): I stood before my reflection taking just one last look before getting into the shower. My skin. The mole centered between the upper curved of my right cheek and right eye. Glanced down at the dark curls below matching the black locks stopy head, thighs pressed together standing at attention before myself. Shape of my lips. This is what clients would be seeing. They were consumers purchasing a product for the night. I watched the flat heron squeeze thin from pulling the curtain aside leaving just enough space to slip through. One foot in, I leaned forward grabbed the horizontal bar built into the shower wall. A good grip kept me steady before lifting my other foot off the  chenel rug.  Both feet next one another I stood up straight, arching my back until hearing the sounds of snapping vertibre. That is what I get by subjecting myself to the stillness of an office seat for almost nine hours straight ev...