Audience Advisory: 18+ Yrs or Older — Book Storyline Is Rated… “M” for Mature Audiences Only With Trigger Warnings. Steam and Spice Within the Full Psychological Novella Steamy Noir Fiction….


“The Smoking Glass Literary Bar Is On Fire!”

Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BPQ6HQ8K?ref_=cm_sw_r_apann_ts_HV9S5AY3VQQ6418B5HXR


🔥🥀🇺🇸Meet SFC SEBASTIAN KING — Alpha-Hero, Badass & 180-degree Back Arching Primeval Lover! Yyyyyaaassss….



To Understand Him is to Get Him…To Get Him…Is to Understand Him! SFC Sebastian King (Mr. Night Mixer) Was Our Sensual and Intellectual Elitist. We Were Benefactors of His Scholarly and Intriguing Carnal Mindset.… And Loved It! Let’s delve deeper.

Theirs Was A Hot Carnal Fire That Nearly Burned the Nineveh Province Into Burning Cinders! Especially, During Their Tour of Duty!

Sometimes… A Woman Just Needs the Words and Love of Her Hero, Commrad, Soldier & Lover… “Sexy Mama… This Is No Longer A Dinner Date— But A Hero’s Rescue Mission!” Damnation….


Please Enjoy….


Once upon a hedonic time in history, it was believed that the great philosopher psychoanalyst and primally inclined Dr. Otto Gross gave his admired colleague and therapist Dr. Carl Gustov Jung sound advice and candor, concerning the ambivalence towards his angst with the pursuit of desire and pleasure. You see, the gentleman and rogue scholar employed Dr. Jung to help him be a man who would never resist anything. More importantly, help him live wholeheartedly with the saying, “Dr. Jung… pleasure is simple… until we complicate it.” Now a much-believed urban legend. But we know better. Those were the words of, not just bohemian wisdom, but the pass key to unlocking the door and setting free an alleged intellectually dark Dom, superfreak, and sadist! Dark primal history is funny that way. No matter how eye popping or jaw dropping this concept was to Dr. Jung’s willful and appealing ears, Early 20th century Europe still grapples with this revelation to this very day! And if we fast forward ourselves to the 21st century; we will find that a very young and troubled hero and soldier’s (Sergeant First Class Sebastian King) darker primal side grapples with this same philosophical hedonism. To his credit, however, Jung and Gross were the soldier and scholar’s laden hedonic paragons of passion secretly. I mean… damn!

In addition, to Dr. Gross’s confidant, friend, and seeker of the imminent pleasure—which is dark infidelity—he would never relent in releasing Jung’s more primitive instincts, nor anyone else’s. The rumored and alleged troubled drug addict and carnally depraved patient of Dr. Jung would then give and offer him advice that opened the door to a very enticing and primeval Pandora’s box filled with unrestrained infidelity and hedonistic anxiousness.

The discovery of this Pandora’s box would be so powerful that it caused an unbelievable intellectual and seismic shift in the field of early 20th century psychoanalysis. This is especially true where the students of and under Freud’s leadership were concerned, because within their group’s pool of thought, every freaking issue with women back then, was steeped in hysterical nymphomania, depraved sensuality, desires of the flesh, and lustfulness. However, that’s utter and total BS! Truth be known, it was the men with uncontrollable nymphomaniac tendencies and sensibilities.

In actuality, women, brazen or not, simply wished to play on the same sexual playing field as men. After all, the pursuit of ultimate pleasure isn’t for males only. Secretly, women are skillfully better at the pursuits of their own pleasure and carnal sensibilities. We want what we want. And will not be denied or depraved of such pursuits. Tight corsets, miniskirts, or not . Dr. Gross, as well as SFC King fully embraced and acknowledged this notion, as well. Ssshhheeessshhh!

Though, to his dubious credit, Dr. Gross was a champion of women’s sexual freedom. However, it was mainly due-to-the-fact that it served his womanizing purposes. Total rake and snake instincts if you ask me. But for some, male or female, no less enticing!

Many self-proclaimed intellectuals are depraved as hell, which is why their relationships are in such disarray, and usually end up as total cluster-fucks, especially where their sensual lives are concerned. We will find, going forward, that SFC Sebastian “Night Mixer” King will not be an exception to this train of thought, whatsoever! In actuality his carnal and primal instincts, idyllically, ran synonymous to both Jung and Gross. The greater the self-destructive and lascivious attributes, the greater the sting of pleasure. Especially, when one is caught betwixt the powerful clutches of PTSD. The result, of course, would undoubtedly be so perilous, yet so stimulating and exhilarating at the same time! Total pleasure and hedonic balance, rather healthy or not. Just ask the trail of lovers he pounded into his bed coils, in pursuit of such hedonism.

Along with the study of human sexual bondage and depravity, you will also see Gross as a bohemian free-thinker and carnal manipulator. And although these are very dangerous and threatening attributes to possess, Sebastian loved this notion about himself. Which explains why the soldier and scholar was such a devout and lifelong studier and superfan of both Jung and Gross. I’m talking to the point of jacking himself off, as his eyes slowly rolled into the back of his head from the sensation and pleasure, whenever alone in his office or quarters (total Alpha freak). If ever a hero and soldier knew true pleasure… it was no doubt SFC King. It was just something about the darkness of it that drove Mr. Night Mixer’s (King’s alter ego) sensual and intimate instincts—and very stealthily, I might add. Please note that with each act of pleasure, SFC King grew darker and darker. Making him a remoter type of soul. No one was any the wiser just how dark he became. Talk about your military silence and stealth mode. But to his credit… it couldn’t be helped.

After satisfying himself, he would force himself to delve into darker more intimate and mental feelings of release as his steel rod of passion relieved itself. Of course, as he laid in perfect naked symmetry—the intimate balance of all things primal—he did this on his office’s leather chaise lounge to the point of his gorgeous Grecian god-like body trembling and quaking in exasperation and dripping hot sweat, after studying and reading each and every one of their theses, or writings.

SFC King was into the mind over matter theory, which could not only be applied sexually, but as a military leadership attribute as well. After all, the brain is the largest sex organ. Well… almost. If you knew anything about the main feature of Sebastian King’s body, you’d know that the soldier was well hung in the likeness of an Arabian Stallion—and no shit he was, just sayin’!

Furthermore, it is believed that many of Dr. Gross’s stringent ideologies single-handedly released the darkest beast of Jung’s sensual, mental, and emotional sensibilities, which was his ultimate goal with any human specimen he could suborn, and our Sebastian King was no different, being a hardcore fan and follower of Gross’s and Jung’s bodies of work and theories.

Having read, literally, each and every single paper, conference, and theory of both psychoanalysts, it’s no surprise King took notice of the devout fanboy. Goodness. As a result, the dormant wannabe Dom within Dr. Jung was free to wreak carnal havoc for life! Of course, this is going by Otto’s maleficent words with regards to sexually deranged intellectual voyeurism and libertinism. This shit is real, just ask Sabina Spielrein, D.H. Lawrence, and Dr. Sigmund Freud!

Before escaping into the unknown, it was rumored by the “polite society” elites, that Dr. Gross had relayed to his tormented colleague the words that tore down the last walls of his ambivalent restraints and control. Otto said—or rather, relayed—to the intellectual heir apparent of their field the words that not only changed the course of Dr. Jung’s life, but also the course of psychoanalysis forever! He simply stated repeatedly to the emotionally guarded Dr. Jung that, to never forget that “pleasure is rather simple until we complicate it, Dr.! Never resist anything. Stop repressing your basic human instincts and go for it! Fuck your young protege until she fully releases herself.” Those words, of course, are powerful, provocative, moving, and tempting as hell to any willful set of ears! Jung was rumored to have salivated at the mouth, to the point of tasting trickles of blood from his own lips.

Like Jung, Sebastian King was far more vulnerable underneath all that brawn and fearlessness, total super freak, hero or not. After all, vulnerable heroes have a dark side: they must feed the beast of their psyche and their ideologies of lust, capitulation, and intimacy. Many intellectuals and pseudo intellectuals recognize this as the dark balance, so to speak! And like it or not, the darkness must be fed in order to have sensual balance, to say the least.

That said, having studied Otto Gross and Carl Jung for years, especially from the perspective of a former special forces team leader and dark operative, these ideologies became a stringent roadmap for securing carnal specimens to feed his carnivorous sensual diet. And, in the end, Dr. Jung became a very willful Dominator. However, SFC King’s darker ambitions became more willful, cunning, and beastly compared to Jung’s. From a soldier suffering from both rejection and PTSD, this was undoubtedly so dangerous, yet undeniable at the same time! That boy just had a fucking way about him. Not only was it dark and deliciously sensual, but it also came with so many dark twists.

Then again, I am neither Jung nor SFC King. I am a firm believer that one should never ever be embarrassed by loneliness—it’s simply a place to start! Clearly, both Jung and King despised and resented loneliness. However, if only they took a moment to reflect and think, they’d realize that some of the world’s most powerful relationships are thought to be suborned by one form of despair or another. And from this, so-called greatness, beautiful strengths, and insights of love are born. In which SFC King will have a come to Jesus’ confrontation with. Cause in many cases, this pool of thought, creates powerful social and cognitive unions that become forever congruent and fulfilling. In other words, lonely people, especially those intellectual types, enter into truculent unions out of sheer desperation—some more than others. To put it simply, I believe that Thoreau said it best: The Mass of Men Live Lives of Quiet Desperation. SFC King fit this bill two-fold! So perilous… the quiet desperation.

The end result, time after time, however, is that a very peculiar pact is formed between two people, making desperation a very powerful and dynamic psychological tool of self-transformation—dark or not, which is true. Especially, when Mistress Elle is added into this lustful and hedonic quagmire. Never forget that wounded animals, which are the broken and broken-hearted, are powerfully gregarious creatures by nature. They are driven by laws of attraction on an exacerbated level. Many soldiers have smelted these sensual and primal ideals to their inner core; there is simply no exception to the rules. That said, only a wounded animal can rescue the other because it is only those from these dominant subsets with the knowledge to do it! Yessss… it is a bit arrogant in manners. Yet, no less true in its realistic and intimate psychological application. Elle and SFC King would need all of this, and then some. This is especially true because every part of Elle’s love life has come to a complete and utter halt. She could feel the Ides of March in the depths of her gut along with the darkening of her psyche.

March of 2013 came in with the gentleness of the lamb: utterly backwards as hell. However, that mean old lion decided that by March’s end, he would leave out with all the ferociousness and emotional carnal damage that he could muster, changing hundreds of years of precedent ways of doing things: slaughtering the lamb of March on the spot. Like the great emperor Julius Caesar, Elle felt the heartache of betrayal and benign compassion from those closest to her. Something within her had to give. I believe at that point in time, Elle felt like a motherless child. I feel that I can say, without fear of reproach, that this type of loneliness is reprehensible, and overwhelming to people like her! Something would have to give, alright, and it had to be Elle’s sanity…or her surrender. Sergeant First Class King, on the other hand, was faring no better. But this is how fate and destiny work together, knowing full well both lovers were up for the dark intimate and lubricious challenge. Sebastian, of course, would take the leadership reins by the helm. Hell, fire and damnation!

Albeit right or wrong, this too was the dark and uncanny philosophy that SFC King followed stringently. In his mind’s eye, Otto Gross’s train of thought would be his permanent roadmap of survival, sensually, emotionally, and intellectually. After all, he was an intellectual with a master’s degree in psychology through and through, which helped his psyche to make sense of the world, his feelings, but most of all: the need to slake his ever-darkening carnal needs! Bless his gorgeous, sexy, and ever pining heart!
Secretly, however, all that boy ever wanted was to love and be loved. Dom or no Dom. Alpha male or no alpha male. Throw rejection by the one woman he loved with every fiber of his being into the mix, and goodness… Safe to say, the beast within him—however calm and graceful—is as cunning and ferocious as any king of the sexual jungle! And it wanted revenge, and a respite to his ever-deepening pain.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the only thing that boy and Katie-Inc (his loveless and stoic ex-wife to be) would leave behind on that lake up in North Georgia is psychologically and physically scorched earth! Not a surprise since Special Force’s types are perilous and hardcore lovers when they feel slighted by a love interest or worse—a love interest who make them feel second best, while knowing full well, that they had given it their absolute all to make it work. Period! The downside, however, results in them plummeting deeper into their psyche’s primal dark abyss.

On the other hand, Elle was damn Elle whether or not he felt she and her libido needed rescuing! To keep and suborn that hardened stone of a lover, he’d have to bring his ass back into the 21st century both idyllically and carnally, with a quickness! They were no longer in the Eastern Theatre fucking like out-of-control reprobates, but in Georgia, and the competition for Elle’s sensual and intellectual sensibilities were in higher demand than that boy could have ever surmised—which only fueled his determination and hunger! I’m talkin’ to the point of his eyes bulging from anger and jealousy, as he often sucked in the trickles of blood, as he bit down too harshly on his lips. Like a vampire, or sorts, it was the bitter taste of it, that riled him. Sebastian wasn’t about to surrender or throw in the white flag without a fight, and not in a million years, most especially! Note to file, at least: that damn soldier had a plan. He would love her and fuck her back to life and into both SFC King’s heart and soul his way, and on his terms.

How on earth will that fucking action plan work out for him, though? Clearly, he was getting a bit ahead of himself. If he wants to win this game, Sebastian had better pull from his duffel bag of tricks, with a vengeance. Which he should’ve known, of course. Because when it comes to Ms. Elle, it’s a total zero-sum end-state. Meaning… winner takes all! There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it! The only question lurking in the depths of both their darkness is this: who will win… and who shall lose in this, the reservation, primeval psychological and philosophical game of thrones…. and race into hedonic darkness? Moreover, would either lover have the balls or hard nubs to withstand the dark juggernaut that fate and destiny would wickedly through into the mix, in the end? Because the two wayward lovers were about to have their dandruff raised, and hair blown back, by a Katie-Inc insurgency.
What in the damn Georgia hellfire and damnation!


Operation Night Mixer


To us female veteran types, Sebastian “Mr. Night Mixer” Wink was your, quintessential connoisseur of sultry and soulful rhythm and blues, carnal sensitivities, and of course, primal instincts. Like the Pied Piper, that boy knew his shit. Hence, the reason behind his nickname. Just ask every former lover he’s only ever made love to into the coils of his bed, or broken hearts he’s touched back in the Theatre. Which is very typical of most soldier types. The Theatre was our pseudo “what happens in Vegas… stays in Vegas,” sorta thing whether you like it or not! As for the Georgia Southern Belles with whom he engaged—the gentleman would afford that lust interest of the day, every moment of his time; the quarter of his protection; tenderness; passions; lust; and sacred intimacy. These attributes were not shared openly to just any woman. Mr. Night Mixer knew, instinctively, that he would have to dig deep from within himself, to give a part of himself. This is because he suffered silently from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, otherwise known as PTSD, and in part, due to his ex-wife Katie’s very harsh rejection. Believe me when I say, dark heroes sometimes suffer rejection rather harshly. To have been rejected is to understand it. And one can never give what they don’t understand. How Dr. Jung of him.

Little did she know that rejection would resurrect the sleeping beast within her rejected husband. And she didn’t just wake up a sleeping beast, but a wounded beast, so hungry for carnal and primal vengeance he could nearly taste it. He often bit down on his lower lip (habitually, of course, just from the thought of such dark and rebellious behavior—an utter telltale sign of an alpha male wanton and an attribute of an out-of-control bad boy.

On the outside, however, no one would be any the wiser. King was the pillar of strength and valor, concealing his darkness and animalistic instincts. And dear God… those secrets were hidden too far down, within him, for anyone to tell what lay beneath! The objects of his obsession (primal vixens) would be the only exceptions with the knowledge of his pining and dark inclinations, which they all held tight to the vest. Discretion is the better part of valor.

The objects of his obsession with the knowledge of such discretions would be the only exceptions to SFC King’s libidinous rules (alpha-male thing for sure), which they coveted with a vengeance. Why? Because for those Southern Belle’s just being close to such a veteran, gentleman, and purveyor of passion would be a life-long torment full of the longing of him. Most notably, to such primitive carnal knowledge, which once shocked their modest sensibilities, would be held sacredly and securely in a place The ladies lived by King’s carnal and primal code. “Who are you gonna give your goodies so freely…baby? The devil you know… or the devil you fucking know ain’t worth a damn?” Dammit boy!

For many of the vixens who slept with SFC King up there in Gwinnett Georgia, it was their best kept secret. And that ornery beast within him couldn’t give a good goddamn if any of those southern belles were committed; married; divorced; confused; emotionally wounded, or on the rebound searching. He’d slowly become that dark, emotional, and primally hungry lion on the hunt to the point of his lovers salivating while their wombs oozed all types of carnal and primal nectar whenever they hooked up. SFC King had that way about him. And it was all psychologically motivated, first and foremost. It’s totally a Dr. Gross tactic, but it worked either way. You would have to have been a part of the fold to understand this reference, and where such dark and sensually primitive instincts within that hero and soldier began. In a sense, looking back, it couldn’t be helped. Kinda like Dr. Jung’s primal yearnings. Hhhmmm.

SFC Sebastian King returned home Fall of 2013 from that perilous war zone ─known as the Nineveh Province of Iraq with muscularly rippled zero body fat; tanned mocha sunburned skin; sexy salt and pepper spiky hair clambering its way from under his uniform cap; moist pouty sun-blanched lips begging for a lover’s kiss; a pair of sparkling hazel green eyes so clear a woman would want to dive straight into them until she lost herself; and well-earned heavy military service metals, accompanied by a libido so goddamn smoldering and wanting that it nearly burned down a middle eastern city!

For-a-soldier that had rotated in and out of the Middle Eastern Theatre four times in eight years, it was time for him to rejoin civilized society again. He could not have been more excited, and ready to come back home. Rather than waiting to catch a commercial flight back to conus, the anxious soldier luckily hitched a ride back to the states on a military G-5 jet with six or seven frozen middle top brass—aka high-ranking officers, particularly the general types. Sebastian was always lucky that way. He was able to ride as far as New York, New York and from there, he would fly the duration of his way home via commercial airline into the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson airport.

The second leg of his trip was a bit tense and uneasy, for the returning hero and soldier. He sat reclined in his seat the entire trip gazing out the window at the setting sun playing on the fluffy clouds. It was there, about fifty-seven thousand miles above the earth, when his recall memory decided to make its debut. And it was not a welcomed return at all.

He began to ask himself all sorts of questions concerning his return home, after so many months. “I wonder who will be there waiting to see me? Will my daughters be happy to see me… or even recognize me?” The soldier whispered silently via pert lips as his eyes descended into a nervous slow close. He suddenly felt the goosebumps racing across his gorgeous physique and sun-charred skin. Sebastian tightened his closed eyes in an attempt to conceal the onslaught of tears that were rapidly filling the wells of his beautiful caramel brown and emerald, green diamonds, to the point of his upper lip quivering from the knowledge of such uncertainty. The tears were falling for so many reasons, he couldn’t count (soldiers cry more than civilians and family members could ever fathom). Perhaps the soldier and gentleman’s tears were falling from the onslaught of uncertainty, and the dawning of apprehension and shock over the transition from warzone to peacetime. The feeling is overwhelming, for so many heroes and National Treasures. No soldier type likes or embraces uncertainty.

It was practically useless and too late, since a few fell down his dry sunburned face, hanging at his chin, and ready to air assault themselves off and onto his utilities, or battle dress uniform. The passenger next to him noticed but was polite enough not to say a word. She simply handed him a crisp, baby blue handkerchief to dry his puffy tear-filled eyes.

Simultaneously, she reached down to give his rough hands a slight squeeze of assurance and comfort as her eyes began to well just a tad. Rather than allow him to see her upset, she excused herself, cautious and careful not to allow the hero and soldier next to her to see the long streaks of tears from her own eyes. How valiant of her. Of course, Sebastian returned her gesture by squeezing her hand ever so softly before she could head for the facility behind their row. He did not say a word, and only glared out the window of the plane.

That forlorn feeling was upon him once again as he stared at the hodge-podge of messy white clouds outside. It is the one feeling every soldier returning home from war feels deep within the pit of their stomachs—the feeling of no longer having full control over your world from a personal perspective and now vulnerable to the will and whims of family and civilians. For a staunch intellectual and realist like himself, this was the ultimate test of his lifetime. SFC King’s heart filled with instability and insecurity just at the thought. Total no-go, from his purview. But gosh, underneath those overwhelming feelings, that boy longed like crazy for the love of all his girls: his wife Katherine, and three daughters Lizzy, Vicki, and Sammie. And secretly, one other (his dearest Elle). Sebastian was a “still waters” type that way. And as the saying goes… his waters ran very deep. Most times, even dark.

No matter how naughty and mischievous he conducted himself overseas, Sebastian missed his wife and girls like nobody’s business. His dear Katie trumped every lover—and would be lover—to his life, up until that point. And for as long as both he and Elle would live to draw breath, she’d never allow him to forget it. Part of her reason and motivating factor for her not re-enlisting for two more years. Elle left, without so much as a goodbye… or see you later. If she only knew?

However, he had been away from home for forty-eight straight months. It is difficult to gauge the type of reception you will receive once you cross over into the United States airspace. It really is. If you don’t believe me, just ask any veteran or soldier moving in and out of that Middle Eastern Theatre. Mrs. King did not appreciate Sebastian—who was once a civilian prior to their marriage—signing up to serve his country from the get-go! She felt deserted and pissed off. Because in her eyes, the military was his mistress on the side. She may have assured their daughters that daddy was alright, and let them read all the letters he sent, but hanging off her heart were a million icicles. Nothing on this earth could ever thaw that ice…nothing! Or so she thought. Fate is diabolical and as uneasy to navigate as hell.

You see, Katie viewed Sebastian’s enlistment into the Army as an utter betrayal and rejection of her love. Then again, how naive and selfish can one woman be? You can thank her mean-ass divorced and single-minded friends for that. How she allowed single ratchet debutants and spinsters to rule her train of thought, is flooring to me. Oh, Katie… Katie… Katie! I want to scream and knock some senses into her. Then again, it’s no surprise because she’s the type to act so entitled.

Mrs. King’s family were highbrowed and wealthy. Heck, she was every schoolboy’s catch and wet dream back in the day. But Katie had one weakness she never revealed to her friends and cohorts. When it came to Sebastian—the football collegiate school’s star and scholar—the backseat of his Mustang convertible was too enticing to resist. Her legs automatically spread wide open at Sebastian’s every command. Girlfriend, the nerve!

Furthermore, who could resist those mesmerizing hazel green eyes, well-endowed curved male member, and elongated talented tongue of his? By the time it was all said and done, the seven to eight orgasms he’d given her also produced an offspring. That damn boy was fucking thrilled and elated when he found out the great news. Katie, on the other hand, not so much.

Having served in that Eastern cesspool with SFC King, I can vouch for those magnificent and magnanimous carnal antics of his, especially where the multiple orgasms are concerned. We watched him in the breakroom one weekend tie a long piece of red thread into a bow, just with his tongue. Holy shit! Needless to say, he went to the top of every female soldier’s sexual hit list. Just say, Wink, and every soldier of the female type knew who you were referring to. So, I really get Katie’s indifference to her predicament, and obliteration of her hopes and dreams.

However, that damn boy is many things, but forcing women against their will isn’t one of them. Any soldier or disreputable guy he’d catch trying to pull that shit will be taken down on the spot! I should know. It was he and Master Sergeant Graves that took me to the hospital that infamous night long ago. He even posted the protections of his body and special skills at my door all night. This was after I suffered a vicious military sexual assault too heinous for words! Know this, Mrs. Katie King… it takes two to tango, girlfriend.

Furthermore, Katie’s real angst was that she wanted to marry someone with wealth and power, not what she considered a simple and unpretentious rich boy. Clearly, underestimating the King family’s fiscal and political geo-global reach. That family was nothing to fucking play with. Hell, they were rumored to have ties to powerful media moguls, and such. How this knowledge about Katie manages to floor me to this day is beyond me. Besides, the heads of their families on both sides were highbrowed and so, marriage was the only end-state. There would be no children born out of wedlock from either family’s lineage or bloodline. Period! Sebastian loved the idea. Katie just went along just to get along, if you know what I mean.

However, deep down, that damn girl wanted to head to California with her girlfriends to live the rambunctious and glamorous Hollywood and California lifestyle of their dreams. True to form, Katie’s selfish and unforgiving nature blamed Sebastian for his so-called carelessness the entire duration of their lives together. She jabbed him one time too many times. Hence, his secondary reason for signing up for the Army without telling her, and only until after he had been sworn in, did he inform her. Sebastian wasn’t being mean at all. Reciprocation of ugliness wasn’t his thing. To put it simply, Katie had become a quid pro quo frigid bitch. Of course, this is to Sebastian’s shock and awe. On purpose, he had to make a move that needed to be made since both his psyche and emotions were fighting tooth and nail to surface. However, Katie swore that damn boy just wanted her for bragging rights. Ugh, I can’t stand narcissistic people like her!

Of course, nothing could’ve been further from the truth, but that is where she was mentally and emotionally, which prompted Sebastian’s rush towards getting back home to her. He really wanted to show the love of his life and wife just how far off the mark her feelings and ideals were concerning their marriage and his love for her. If she only knew… she was his everything! And most especially, his children. Those girls were his whole life, and the reason that kept him from blowing his brains out. Plus, his love for them was the light he’d follow out of that dark mental fucked-up tunnel. Katie understood only that which she wanted to understand. If she only knew the collateral damage hiding deep within that soldier and hero. Unfortunately, she only wanted to punish and antagonize him. Total bitch move, in my humble opinion! But, at the same time, Katie was no fool. She knew deep down in his dark heart─there was one other. Whom he loved from the side of his soul she’d never have the privilege to enter. That part of him belonged to that harlot, she felt, his beloved mistress Elle!

That said, let’s be very clear about one thing. It’s easy as hell to miss a figment of your imagination, but when we return home in the flesh…oh my God…what a difference airspace makes! SFC King’s angst had some merit, to say the least.

Sebastian’s intense gaze into those clouds was his way of finding strength, and intestinal fortitude. There was something powerful he had to prepare himself to be able to withstand. Would he be received with adulation and love by his wife and daughters, or not? From an emotional perspective, the weight of not knowing is beyond tremendous! Moreover, that powerless feeling of not being in control of the situation, can leave what feels like a thousand bee stings in the pit of your stomach. Yet, mentally, SFC King was ready—no, willing—and able to remain optimistic about the situation. I honestly applaud that type of intense intestinal fortitude, even though I know reality has somewhat perilous implications.

Finally, the fasten seatbelt sign flashed above the airline’s cabins. Already strapped in, Sebastian simply popped his seat into the upright position for landing. However, if that boy was apprehensive before the flashing yellow light, he was now outright scared to death of what awaited him at the pick-up and luggage claim area of Hartsfield-Jackson airport. It’s no surprise, though. SFC King never liked uncertainty. I remembered that fact from the Theatre, but I knew that optimist in him would bring all feelings of ambivalence to a dead halt. He was going to see this scenario to its bitter… or rather, sweet end, no matter what! Then again, how valiant of him. Too bad he could not read the tea leaves like the rest of us veterans. We always planned for the worst and hoped for the best! Call us harsh if you like. But realness was always our reality… come hell or high water!

Typical to form at Hartsfield-Jackson, that American Airline 787 landed, only to be held on the runway for an extra forty-five minutes. Which, if he were being honest, worked out for Sebastian. He needed a little extra time to assess, as fast as possible, which one of his personalities would greet his family: Sebastian, the realist or SFC King, the optimist? I couldn’t help but think, Baby…I know that side of you, which is kept locked away from the world. It would be the ultimate optimist coming up that escalator into whatever!
To Sebastian’s surprise, shock, and elation, the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport’s designated greeting area and terminal, was filled to the nines with impatient patriotic Americans, Veterans, and fellow Heroes to welcome him back home safe and sound! That area of the airport was dressed the likes of the 4th of July with American and Armed Forces Flags, from all three branches. Poised patiently at the entrance into the baggage claim and pick-up area stood tons of proud citizens and patriots, waving their flags and banners in the air as if they were at a collegiate homecoming football game, yelling like crazed fans and patriots. No denying that soldiers loved it when they did that.

“Welcome home hero! God bless you. And thank you for your service!” The crowd of patriots yelled as loud as they could. SFC King’s eyes were lit up with pride, patriotism, and hope—which helped in the easing of his angst, just a tad. It’s a hell of a damn homecoming, filled with so much love, pomp, and circumstance.

Undoubtedly, SFC King was beyond elated when he beheld such a sight! Yet, he remained calm and collected on the outside. That was just his way of dealing with emotionally charged and intense situations like these. However, nothing could ever remove the glare of those stunning, armor-piercing hazel green eyes that were filled with so much pride, honor, and unbridled sexual appetite…nothing! We mustn’t forget that SFC King is a primal carnivore, by nature. (I ain’t mad at him, though.)

At the end of the barrage of grateful Americans and Atlantans, stood his three beautiful daughters and wife. All the pomp and circumstance in the world could never measure up to the moment those girls embraced their father! Nor could anything slow down the rapid thumping in his chest, from both fear and adulation. Homecomings for soldiers and veterans are as highly emotional, as they are unpredictable. SFC King simply had to damn roll with it. “OMG, is it really you? Are you finally home?” His oldest daughter, Lizzy, asked breathlessly, as her eyes lit up and fluttered with excitement.

“Are you finally coming home with us…. please…please…please?” asked his youngest daughter, Sammie, as she danced around his legs with the tightest embrace her small body could muster. The joy and animation levels were through the roof and rafters.

His middle daughter, Vicki, sobered by the moment, was left speechless and pissed. The young lady was as pale as a ghost with tears slowly streaming down her blanched white cheeks, from the pain of her new reality. SFC King immediately recognized the pain caught and trapped dead center of her eyes. Daddy was not coming home with us. Mother fucking lied! Yelp. The unfortunate sentiment and experience of so many innocent military brats, when a parent returns home from a lengthy deployment were truly gut wrenching!

His middle daughter finally reached out to the youngest of the circle, and said, “Stop…stop…stop…he’s not coming home with us, guys!” Her tiny voice nearly cracked when she finally acknowledged aloud her new reality, as her blanched-out face began turning a seething red hot from anger. SFC King the soldier and father could, literally, feel the blood from the hurt and pain dripping in his gut. But the fury in that soldier’s eyes spoke volumes! How he managed to continually conceal his lividness, is a goddamn mystery to this very day! Then again, it’s not a surprise at all. He was a gentleman of the highest valor.

Next, there was this god-awful dead silence, as if all the sound had been snuffed out of that airport. He could not speak, and only shook his head in agreement with his favorite little girl. Not a surprise since she was just like him. I’m talkin’ a total spitting image, from head to toe! Even more, their thinking processes. She truly was the most stoic and savvy of his three girls—his Liebling. King’s family were, rumored, to be related to the Austrian peerage. Unfortunately, most were sent to Dachau—the horrid concentration camp of Hitler’s tyrannical regime—during WWII. His mother’s side of the family managed to escape to America in 1940. In a sense, this explains so much about him and the girls. Many of us believe their family’s lineage and struggles made them both resilient and pragmatic thinkers. His Liebling most especially!

Finally, the young women broke out of their embrace, and their gaze went towards Mrs. King with a look short of nothing but betrayal, loss, and confusion. It was their, “Mommy how could you?” sort of moment. Mrs. King walked swiftly over to the girls and attempted to embrace them. All three young women recoiled in disgust, anger, and hurt to the point of raised fists, and snarling angst under their breaths.
“Mom, don’t. Don’t freaking touch us—you lied to us about Dad!” The youngest daughter yelped, as a sharp pain hit her belly. Sebastian’s daughters didn’t play games like their mom. Let it be said: those girls had inherited their father’s temperament and comportment, because anyone who’d behold such a sight must cringe and whisper to themselves, “Goodness, what did you do? You clearly fucked up.”

King’s eyes were bloodshot red and glossed over with disdain and unforgiveness. Jesus… He raised his hand with total dread and anxiety upon realizing his girls caught on to his and Mrs. King’s fucked-up marital bullshit in the middle of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. In addition, the fact that she waited to handle his lodging in the middle of the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport and onlookers…was a bit beyond the pale. And the final nail in their marital coffin, for SFC King. This was also the beginning of his dark and beastly primal incubus’ resurrection. He would make her pay for such insolence and selfishness! To this day, I still wonder what the fuck was that shit all about. Why conduct those horrid antics in front of the girls? I suppose, with Katie’s cruelty, it’s no surprise at all. And the fact that she was using SFC King’s daughters as props in her charade for revenge and power, Mrs. King deserves the title of a fucking Queen Bitch! Cause when it comes to Katie-Kate─the cruelty is always the point.

Albeit right or wrong, like all too many moments for returning heroes, the moment was short-lived. Thank goodness. The reception from his mentally and war-torn wife was lukewarm, at best. As their eyes met, he knew…the life that which he’d longed and fought to preserve, was simply no more. Written in the depths and center of Kate’s eyes was nothing short of both disdain and triumph. Seriously, that bitch’s bloodshot and deeply squinted eyes were speaking in volumes to stay the fuck away from her.

Emotionally, Mrs. Katherine King had moved on, but she hadn’t evolved like so many other service wives. I often felt that this was more or less a clear sign of her stubbornness, and not her strength. Katie made a horrific error in judgment. You can never give a dedicated soldier an ultimatum of choosing between you or serving their country. Because girl, I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna come out the losing end of that ploy, no matter what! And the maximum range of that level of bullshit will always be… zero!

SFC King was halfway around the world fighting to make the world a better place for those beautiful girls of his, and clearly, this level of commitment and dedication to his country was so much bigger than a husband-and-wife connection. Katie wasn’t naive, though, because she knew that. But this was her attempt to control the uncontrollable. Holding the girls hostage, and as leverage was a pure no-go! Not only did she pay for her antics, but the children also paid with their hearts and emotions. Now she was a single mom, with a part-time husband; forced into a position he would never voluntarily elect for himself on any day!

The woman Sebastian longed and vowed to spend the rest of his life with was now Miss Katie King. A part of his strong and endearing inner beautiful spirit slowly dimmed, mentally, with the acknowledgment of that notion. The father in him, had the wherewithal not to allow those beautiful girls of his to suspect a single iota of his discontentment and pain. Instead, he gave them all his love with hugs, and what seemed like a gazillion kisses, and carried on with life, as if nothing life-changing had happened. Like any strong leader, hero, and great father he had no choice but to carry on with a straight face for those beautiful girls. Pain or no pain. Fucking major yelp!

It would be in this defining moment, that another type of soldier within him emerged, and began to take over the old SFC King. A darker yet wanting type of gentleman, if you will. Oh, make no mistake, he was definitely hurt, but he was also determined to have a life with or without his Katie. In the interim, Sebastian would ensure that he would live as close to his rod and staff—his daughters—as possible. After all, they came first and foremost! This issue was non-negotiable. And, more importantly, Katie doesn’t get to morph into the savior and Marta she wished the girls and her entourage of soldier and man-hating (at times) girlfriends could behold. To say Katie had a bit of an ego issue… just doesn’t quite explain it. But somewhere down the road, she had a serious brain-fart when it came to her hubby, so to speak.

SFC King can be very cunning and preemptive when and where needed! Hurt damn feelings or not. Little did Kate (I call her that when she fucks up) know, she had resurrected a monster at Hartsfield-Jackson. I could just shake her ass back into reality for pulling that lame ass bullshit! What is it with some Army wives? Gosh.

From that point, going forward, SFC King made up his mind that he would live free of the guilt, free of Katie’s torment, but most of all, free of the crazy marital separation restraints… or so he thought! Sometimes in life, you cannot dodge those kindred or chaotic moments that, surprisingly, touch our lives one way or the other. And how many of us know that the other can bring with it and cause more collateral damage, than a little bit?

The separation from his wife, though short-lived, molded and shaped the makings of the gentleman who we now know as the quintessential Night Mixer on steroids—or well at least, in the United States. To the uninitiated (we’ll discuss that later), he goes by the name, Wink.

I met the Night Mixer long ago one hot summer night in Dubai before leaving the Theatre for home. But of course, our interaction was brief since we were on holiday leave. What a memorable parting gift it was, though… Winking. Shit…that boy’s primal antics never left my memory, ever! All it took was one time, two very long nights of utter carnal bliss, and seventy-two hours of recovery because my ass couldn’t walk straight shortly after that primal captivity worth a good goddamn—the words dazed, confused, and sensually ate the fuck up explains it rather well.

To state it directly, that soldier left carnal wreckage upon my body and flesh. I am dark skinned, and my body looked as if it were attempting to imitate the stars and stripes of our nation’s flag. And don’t get me started on the bite marks left upon my flesh… Damn military Docs were not too happy about that. Still, it didn’t stop them from blushing, as they made tongue and cheek remarks to me: Damn, soldier, what kinda animal sank its teeth this deep into your flesh… even your inner thighs? Like I would even answer that… Bastards. I wasn’t about to give up shit on Sebastian King… nothing! My primal mind had long since left the building, after having three days and two nights of that damn soldier’s alter sensual ego, Wink. Wink was just so unhinged and unrestrained, so to speak. Fucking shit!

Hey, you know what they say: to the winner would go all the spoils. And spoils they were! Never in my military dating or harlot history, had I ever been tied to a soldier’s bed with camouflage bungee cords, zip ties, and wool military issue socks. In addition, having my body pounded into all night long (ahh artillery men), upside down on our room’s leather lounge chair to the point of speechlessness! Hands and legs fling and flying in the likes of our company’s guidon banner, on a windy day. It was deliciously obscene. Half my braided cornrows (which were one of his fetishes) were totally undone and dangling. Sebastian’s eyes glared at my flesh, as he began breathing like a barbaric heathen. I knew my ass was primal toast. I mean shit! That damn boy grabbed my hair as he forced my head back slowly, all the while twisting and tightening his grip on my cornrows. I could only look up, in utter surrender. ‘Cause it was over, at that point. But my inner thighs were on fire. I was poised for whatever. Winking.

Next, he shook my entire body, as my breast dangled and cascaded up and down, forcefully. King slightly licked his lips and went to the damn town. “Soldier… your Queen of Sheba looking sexy fucking ass ain’t gonna be able to walk when I am done, copy. Let me be clear about that.” My goodness… he didn’t lie worth a damn. It was utter sexual debauchery at best, and I loved every nanosecond I spent in the room with that boy as his sensual prisoner of war. King re-entered my body, as if he were on lift-off to the damn moon. I could only gasp slightly, from his girth and thrusts. Once he got going to his satisfaction, it was on. Sebastian slipped me over into his lap and lost his fucking carnal mind. The sensation was so enticing that King began to bite and nip at my flesh so aggressively that it was primitively mind blowing and obscene yet delicious as hell, at the same time.

Even those R & B playlists that concealed my screams of rapture, are still alive in my call back memory to this very day! Like SFC King always says, “Rangers lead the way, but Artillery men will pound you all night long!” You gotta love those red legs. King was spot-on there. I wasn’t trying to fall in love with that boy, I just wanted the bragging rights of, “Hey, I slept with that ass too. And got turned the fuck out military style…ten-hut!” Reveled in all the high-fives from my female counterparts, once they were aware of my little harlot excursion. Believe me, when I say, they were poised and ready as hell for their opportunity to receive their turn at forty-eight to seventy-two hours of quarters, to recover! Total female soldier thing.
Needless to say, he lived up to and exceeded all my expectations!

Think about it. My body was left with purple and blue bruises, deep bite marks, welts from his spankings, you name it. And spankings they were. I believe SFC King’s brawny handprints are still ladened upon my ass… to this very day. Winking most devilishly, from the thought. The first time that boy entered me—after two to three false flag attempts into my feminine sanctum… just saying—he had to cover my screams with a pillow. I thought he was going to come out the other side of my guts, but once those orgasms came cascading in one after the other, I was literally unconscious from the sensation as he continued with the biting of my neck and suckling of my erect nipples… Good God, it’s beyond this world—the sensation that is! So, looking from the perspective of Ms. Katie and other young women who ever laid with that boy, I so get it! SFC King will teach your ass about pleasure and desire from a deeply carnal intellectual prospective that most women don’t get to experience in their entire lifespan.

Bearing in mind, however, that Mr. Night Mixer, as with any Special Forces, Black Ops, or Navy SEAL Team type, never forgot about that night either, so it would seem like he checked on me every second of my seventy-two hours of quarters. And he never stopped apologizing and pleading for forgiveness. You gotta love him for that. Not a lot of men are man enough to apologize.

“I’m so sorry, baby-girl. You know me… it couldn’t be helped. But please don’t worry, because I will be here for you, and by your side, until you recover. Again, I am sorry as fuck.” Sebastian iterated this sentiment to me, ever so softly and lovingly, all the while smiling like a naughty child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. For what, though? I couldn’t help but contemplate. Well, let’s just say, if I was gonna die… what a way to go! I was tickled pink by that boyish and devilish charm of his. King honestly knew his capabilities. Perhaps he underestimated the Bollinger 1963 champagne. We older female soldiers know a thing or two about primal seduction, as well. Sorry… I digressed. Can’t ever be helped where SFC King is concerned or involved.

Finally, after heartfelt goodbye kisses to his girls, and a gut-wrenching hardcore goodbye to his estranged wife with a kiss, that boy left Hartsfield-Jackson Airport just as quickly as he entered it. Sebastian returned home to Gwinnett, Georgia and his family-owned private lakefront estate, ready for his new mission. No doubt he arrived prepared. As he was drenched to the nines in enough medals to make both generals Powell and McChrystal blush from envy, no lie or stretch of the imagination there.

True to form, the disillusioned soldier returned home to those estates in his utilities, over-packed rucksack, and with the silhouette of a Department of Homeland Security (DHS) spy or operative in their heyday! Seriously, SFC King looked as if he crawled out of the movie screen from all three sequels of the Bourne Identity trilogy. Of course, with no less sexy, fiery, or equivocal rambunctiousness! Absolute and total panty dropping material if you ask me. How delicious is that? Hhhmmm.

That North Georgia suburb (Gwinnett) would never, in its lifetime, be the same again…ever! The beast was now in his fucking element. Carnal havoc and chaos are about to rear its disobedient and naughty head. Of course, we have Ms. Katie-Kat King to thank for that. She could’ve given two shits less. Because for each one of those forty-eight months; she’d ben salivating at the mouth for the opportunity to assert such ruthless revenge and narcissistic control, over SFC King. Which that returning hero and soldier didn’t deserve. What the fuck? If you ask me, Katie-Kat needed a corner to unfuck her selfish ass in. Just saying. But she needn’t worry her pretty little wannabe narcistic head. Because fate and destiny were just as ruthless. Elle reemergence into Sebastian King’s life was now a goddamn forgone conclusion. And may

God help us all.

Wowww… Things Are Heating Up!

You Might Be Asking Yourselves or Wondering—If A Psychological Suspense/Drama Could Deliver Fire and Intrigue. Well… You Tell Me!



Voice of SFC Caterina Flores – Esteemed Battle-Buddy & Best Friend….


Next, he slides his knee in between her long quaking and impatiently awaiting legs to spread them wide open. Elle’s nectar of the Gods dripped slowly to the ground beneath her feet. Fertilizing and quenching its need for moisture and nourishment. King fucking loved and reeled, from the sight. His eyes sprung open and alert, at the view of his love’s robust and supple bosom; driving him madder and darker with heated ecstasy. As he licked those luscious and full lips of his, to soothe their cracked and dried surface. Elle’s eyes were piercing and focused. Her chocolate diamonds sparkled via the bright moonlit starry desert sky, as they spoke in volumes. “You wouldn’t dare, would you?” And trust when I say those eyes, like Elle’s libido, were bellowing with a plea of… “please take me now…”

Sebastian knelt before her, as if paying homage to an ancient Grecian goddess. Which was astonishing, within itself. Cause my girl, Elle, was a goddamn forgone conclusion by this point. But my boy was all in. Nothing would stop this train… it had already left the station.

Effortless, to stop himself, SFC King reached up in an effort to slide Elle’s utility pants down towards the ankle portion of her boots as he rubs his nose softly against her hairy outer sanctum, inhaling her well-groomed hairy thicket softly and tenderly. Simultaneously, taking in every drip of Elle’s sensual rawness, sweetness, pheromones, sweaty flesh, and light fragrant scent.

Goodness… Talk About Your Arabian Nights!!!!!









About the Author J. Z. Luciano

Hailing from Georgia, J.Z. Luciano is a multi-genre author/writer. A Business Administration undergraduate alumni, Troy State University, and Auburn University, she also is proud to be an honorable veteran of the United States Army.

In addition, Ms. Luciano is an Persian Gulf veteran. Her eyes have seen and experience a great deal of the world, to say the least. The author and veteran performed most of her military duty as a instructor, and ceremonial detail for fallen soldiers.

Hers’ was an extraordinary military career. The pathway to fulfilling her dream as an author was, literary, set in stone. Especially, after having served honorably, in the military. Look for dynamic, intriguing, and spellbinding bodies of work within this author’s future.

Her writing pen promises to be a force for readers to reckon with… and to enjoy! Readers and Reviewers, your kindles will feel like a hot and lit-up literary LZ (landing zones).





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