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I gaze at the picture for minutes, not grasping the riddle for a long time. Over and over I write down what I see:
Sun with closed eyes
‘Stop’
Color: OrangeI look back at the picture, and in the left corner I see some scribbles, appareantly not a part of the original picture. I try to zoom in on the phone, only to find the picture blurred, the signs blurring beyond recognition. I look at the phone and find a small latch, a socket for a usb-plug hidden behind it. In thoughts I walk back down the stairs again.
‘ Stop’ Does that reflect on the light of the lighthouse? If that light would stop, it would mean the sun is shining, so daybreak..’I walk into the study and switch on my laptop without noticing my actions
‘But the sun has its eyes shut.. So ‘Stop’ might mean when the sun stops shining. In 24 hours.. But.. That would make it impossible to get there in time… Let me see.. It is 5 hours later there.. That means 11 am.. I have 24 hours.. But, if I go there, it would mean either less as 24 hours, or more… Not 24 hours exactly.. So I have to solve the riddle and it isn’t sunset tomorrow..’
The screen of my laptop blinks and I click on the browser, entering [sunset bait island}, which only leads to links for tourist destination in the states and Canada. I widen the search and look for sunset and –rise times UK. After clicking for a while, I find a sight that shows the times but as I look at the numbers, an eerie feeling creeps up on me.
‘It can’t be a specific time… It has to be more general. Without a date, a time is useless… But the date isn’t given yet. Or is it hidden in the riddle? No.. that can’t be, can it? They would have asked for it… Oh darn..’
With a deep sigh I push the laptop away, my mind working at full speed, but unable to solve the riddle. I open one of the drawers of the desk, fumble through a web of cables and find the one with the right connectors. I open the little latch of the phone, plug one end of the cable in, then trace the cable and insert the larger plug into my laptop. The comforting bleep of the machine detecting a outside source sounds, and a little menu pops up. Quickly I look through the directories of the phone, finding the folder that contains the picture, and upload it to my laptop.
I open the image-viewer and select the picture, zooming in as far as I can, trying to make sense of the little scribbles in the left bottom corner. But there is nothing.. They seem to be just scribbles, left overs from when the picture was put together. I look at the file format and sigh.. .jpg That means that the layers that the picture was made from, are merged and impossible to seperate. At least, with the programs I have. Not that it matters, the picture is meant to deliver one message only, and the layers were merged for that purpose..
‘Does the sun keep it’s eyes shut? Or are they shutting because of tiredness, the time to sink below the horizon? And what is the meaning of the word stop? Stopping sun? That’s the same isn’t it?’
Something gets stuck in my mind as the thought passes. The stopping sun.. There is a word for it… But my memory clogged, the little forks in the roads leading me away from the solution. Despaired I lean back into the chair, folding my hands behind my head, looking at the ceiling, dark oak beams lining and supporting the white ceiling. The first rays of the sun fall through the windows and hit the books behind me on the shelves, the birds softly whistling in the trees outside. With a deep sigh I push myself up from the chair and walk through the house to the stairs, deciding to go for a run, to clear my mind.
***
Almost without a noise the steel door slides open as she approaches. Her clearance granted at the backdoor of the mansion, leading her through the kitchen and without obstruction to the stairs to the cellars. The sensors and infra red camera atop the door to her workspace, her ‘dungeon’ as she calls it lovingly’, flickering, taking in her frame, body heat and heart rate, granting her immediate access. The clcks of her high heels echoing through the concrete room as she slowly approaches the old sofa set up in front f the glass desk with the monitors and the single, brushed steel keyboard.
Her hand slides over the dameged fabric of the old chair, as if she was caressing her lover, the sofa the only thing that moves with her when she switches jobs, though it has been gathering dust and losing resiliance in the springs in this basement for the past 5 years. Her arm stretches and touches a smal fingerprint reader, a green light flashing and the comforting humming sound of her system coming to live. Her purse left at the foot of the sofa, her slender legs folding over eachother as she sits her slender body down.
Her hand automatically moves to the right, finding the stainless steel mug, lifting it and setting it down immediatly again, empty.. She sighs and pushes herself off the sofa, moving to the corner and turning on the coffee machine, opening the top and searching in a container for a pad. Mocca, a dark blend, creamy and strong. Her sugar bowl checked, half-full, enough for the remainder of the morning. The flashing light of the machine stops and she presses the button, the coffee starting to drip then flow into her mug.
Before the machine stops dripping, she pulls the mug away, adds two teaspoons of sugar and moves back to her sofa, bringing the mug to her nose as she leans back. She closes her eyes as she draws in the aroma deeply, her mind getting charged and freed from the last clouds of sleep. She licks her full lips, pouts and folds them around the rim of her mug, sipping the creamy layer off the coffee, savouring the bitterness before she stirs. With a smile she puts the mug on the desktop and stirs, as she enters her password into the menu on the central screen.
As soon as she hits enter, the screens start to spew out information. Her eyes glide over the screens and get stuck at the one that shows the hidden camera in the study of the target. The room is empty, the chair abandonned, even the clues that were sent so far had been taken out of sight, stored in a drawer somewhere. She opens the database and searches for the stored video images, finding a back-up of the past two hours. As the videoplayer loads, her hand grabs the spoon in the mug, stirs vigorously before her fingers fold around the handle and brings the mug to her lips. The mug tilted, the hot coffee touching her lips, flowing into her mouth, then a curse, coffee spilled and the mug slammed back onto the desk. Too hot..
She curses, keeping her voice low, and looks around for a shammy or a cloth. She finds a packet of tissues and quickly cleans up the mess. Her eyes focus on the screen again as she brings the mug back to her lips, this time blowing on the hot, sweet liquid before taking a small sip. As the caffeine rushes through her veins, she skips through the video images until she sees the first movements in the room. The target appears, opening and starting his laptop, attaching the phone and almost pushing his face against the screen. A soft smile curls her lips, her pride molding her face as she remembers putting the image together.
She notices the frustration in the face of the target, his green-grey eyes squinting as he studies the picture, then his hands pushing the laptop away, most of his body disappearing out of sight as he leans back. The robe he wears slides open, a hint of his manhood catching her eye as the video speeds by. With a blush on her face she halts, rewinds and looks at the few frames again in slow motion, before letting the video end, confirming the idle state of the room shown by the hidden camera.
With a sigh she clicks and opens her email, going through the messages quickly, until she spots the mail from Tess, the liaison at the luggage storage. Her report vivid as always, her words colorful as she describes volume, viscosity and taste of the targets semen, the length and thickness of his member and especially the way he orgasmed in her mouth. She has yet to be let down by a target, her missions are always succesful. Maybe it is her red hair that entices men to follow her lead and let her do whatever she pleases.
But she is dilligent in her tasks and below her mail is a report from the lab, the result of the intensive medical and chemical examination of the target’s semen. The results look promising and the report of Tess shows a greedyness of the target that some how sends a shiver down her spine. She starts to read the medical report with a blush on her face
Smiling she closes the report, convniced he target is a healthy man, in the prime of his strength. She selects the list of task and ticks off the medical report and the meeting with Tess, the whole plan is working perfectly. Suddenly the steel door slides open, startling her, her attention immediatly focussed on the screen.
“Did he pass the medical”
The long fingers of his right hand slowly stroke the long white hair of his goatee as he looks at the slender blonde, folded up on the ragged sofa in front of the computer screens. From the side he notices her blush and sees her quickly close a few documents. He makes a mental note of her behaviour and decides to look back the video of the cellar when he returns to his office.
“Yes sir, he passed with flying colors. I will send a message to his beneficiary that the target is all clear.”
“Very well, how about The Choice? Did you double check?”
Her hands start trembling slighty as the words resonate in her head. Somehow the coming event makes her nerveous, anxious, envious even. The target will make his choice, his partner for the final night. A tight squeeze of her abdomen, the sting of envie runs through her body as she focusses on the screen and answer with a softer voice as before.
“Yes sir, all girls have been selected, informed and will be there at the agreed time. They are all in the mansion as we speak”
“Good, I will leave you to your work”
The steel door slides open and closes, the room suddenly feeling warmer as she looks over her shoulder to convince er she is alone. Slowly she turns her seat, knowing the angle of the camera can’t capture her face, and opens the picture of the target she saved. Her arm stretches out and her finger follows the outline of his face, moves over his lips before reluctantly her hand is pulled away.
***
The run in the park nearby has doen me good. My body is tired, sweatting but my mind is cear and my focus is back. The short night, the endless thoughts about the puzzle and the meaning of all this mystery had clogged the natural flow of my thoughts. Exhausting my body usually clears my mind and this time it has worked as well. Panting, leaning against the doorpost, I open the front door with my key and let it swing open, a soft breeze washing over my face and cooling me down before I step inside. I walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and take out a bottle of juice, putting it to my lips and drinking eagerly. A drizzle of juice runs down my chin, spilled as I turn my head towards the hall. A soft, short buzzing sound reaches my ear and draws my attention.
With the bottle still in my hand, I walk into the hall, following the soft buzz that is heard every few seconds. Suddenly the lighting of the small screen of the mystery phone is caught in my eye and quickly I rush towards it. Picking it up, I see a new message has arrived. I open it and sigh disappointed. A notification 12 hours have passed. And the answer still eludes me. Confronted with the riddle, I feel my mind emerged in thoughts again, trying to tear the hint apart and find the answer. Deep in thoughts I walk up the stairs, go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I strip and get in, the luke warm water washing the sheen of sweat off my skin. Quickly I wash myself, my body and hair and after a quick look in the mirror, I decide not to shave. I get out of the shower, wrap a towel around my hips and enter my bedroom, the sun casting its last rays, the wall at the back of the room colored orange. I open the windows and sit in the sill, letting the evening breeze wash over my body. I admire the sunset and sudenly a smile starts to curl my lips.
“How could I have been this blind? The stopping sun, no specific time without a date. When does the sun stop shining? At Sunset! Idiot!”
The towel slips off my hips as I dash through the bedroom, down the stairs and grab the phone. I open the initial message and press ‘answer’, entering the answer to the riddle:
“Sunset”
With my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes glued to the screen of the phone, I walk back upstairs, my naked body shivering with excitement. Before I reach the top of the stairs, the phone buzzez and I almost drop it. With trembling fingers I open the message:
“Correct, be at the King’s Theatre, 1025 Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, New York City, 10 am tomorrow”
I stare at the screen, knowing the location, the theatre even. As I studied architecture for a while, this abandonned theatre was visited during a tour, disclosing some hidden gems of early 20th century architecture. With a glorious feeling I drop the phone on the bed and slowly start dressing myself, then walking downstairs to prepare for the evening, lost in thoughts.
***
As soon as her system switches from camera’s, she looks up to the screen and watches the target move up the stairs. Dressed in shorts, a sweatshirt and with headphones on, he walks up the stairs, his face looking disappointed. She leans in, gazing at the screen, a tingle felt in her stomach the target moves into the bathroom. Her hand stretches to her mouse, selecting the hidden cam in the bathroom, something the survey-team installed on her specific wish. Her skin starts to color, a pinkish sheen shininh through, disclosing her growing excitement.
Her mouth opens and her tongue slides over her lips as she watched him undress, her fingers moving automated, tracing intricate patters on the glass desk, her mind picturing his hairy chest underneath the tips of her fingers. Her breath quickens as she watches his hands slide over his body, quick and firm, washing the sweat off his muscular body. Slowly a wet spot starts to form in her panties as soft words flow from her lips.
[color=”beige] “Go on mr Weaver, you are forgetting a spot..[/color]
Suddenly she giggles, closes the screen and rises from her seat, her cheeks red with embarrassement and hidden excitement. She walks towards the steel door, casts a last look on her screens before she silently moves towards the restrooms below the stairs. She steps into the women’s room and locks the door behind her, hiking her tight, black dress up her thighs and pushing her hand into her panties. She whimpers as her fingers touch her sensitive lips, the tip of her finger pushing agaiinst her wet sex, collecting her dew, coating her finger before she pushes it up, underneath the hood that covers her clit. A soft moan is emitted from her throat, deep and trembling as she touches her swollen nub, her excitement surprising her, fuelled by the images of the target and the remainder of her arousal after playing with herself the night before.
Knowing her own body well, her climax is close, her fingers pinch and her body is rushed towards the threshold of her climax. The walls containing her need are crumbling as she closes her eyes and pictures the target in front of her, pushing her against the wall and taking her without mercy, claiming her body as she willing opens herself for him. She gasps for air, pinching her clit again and then a long sretched moan accompanies the warm gush of extacy running through her body. She pushes her knees together, clenches her thighs as her honey flows from her sex and coats her digits.
For a few moments she clings to the warmth that fills her veins, her eyes closed shut, then slowly she brings herself back to the present. She opens her eyes, slides her hand from between her thighs and quickly cleans herself after sucking her own juices from her fingers. She steps in front of the mirror and splashes some water in her face, her cheeks bright red, hot to the touch. With a naughty smile around her lips, she winks at herself, pulls her dress down and looks at herself to check for flaws. Satisfied with her appearance, she unlocks the door and steps out, walking back to her work station, a slight spring in her step making her hair bounce on her shoulder
***
Congrats Brandy…
The next episode has been delayed due to unforseen circumstances. I hope to get started soon.. So don't give up on me yet..
Hmmm, if it was up to me, and there would be no trouble with copyrights, I would offer these to the shop:
I think the 'trekkie' series was most liked generally…
correct
episode 3 will be posted after the weekend…
well done
One by one the screens in the cold concrete room go dark, the shut down sequence initiated, the fans of the computers below the glass desk going quiet. She stretches her slender arms at the ceiling, her fingers entwined and a soft moan of relief leaves her soft, full lips. Her legs unfold and she leans her body forward to get out of the chair. She hesitates as she sees the small usb stick on the glass top of her desk, knowing she isn’t allowed to take anything from the building with her other than what she came with. She stretches her arm, the tip of her finger caressing the smooth, plastic casing, turning it on its pivet point, before curling her fingers around it and slipping it under her hand. She turns her head away from the camera that is mounted in the corner and aimed at her chair, knowing the stick couldn’t be seen from the angle.
She checks her screens one more time, then moves to the steel sliding door in the back, slipping into the hallway and onto the stairs behind it. Her black, suede leather boots make a soft clicking sound as she ascends the stairs, opening an old, oak door at the top and stepping into the scullery. The tiled walls glimmering in the soft rays of the sinking sun, coloured a light shade of orange, setting her blonde hair on fire as she passes through, into the kitchen. The victorian house blessed with a huge kitchen, the enamel sink still from when the house was built, 130 years ago. She quickly walks through the dark kitchen to the backdoor and swipes a reader with a keycard. The door buzzes and she pushes against it, then steps outside.
She walks over to her Jeep, clenching the usb stick in her fingers that she slipped into her coat jacket just before leaving her work area. Keeping her head cool, she does as she normally does. Puts her coat on the backseat of the car, her purse on the seat to her right. As she turns the ignition, Racoon is blasted through the speakers, “I love you more” resonating of her windshields. She smiles immediatly before starting the engine and drives off the property. After 20 minutes of traffic, she arrives at her house, quickly walks inside, locking the door behind her. She hangs her coat in the hall, takes the usb stick from the pocket and walks into her pantry, and lumps down on her pillow-littered sofa. Her laptop on the coffee table flickers, then starts zooming as she opens the lid. She slips in the usb and opens the file she saved earlier.
Before pressing play as her media player opens, she walks into her bedroom and takes off her boots, the little socks she hid inside them, her black dress and strapless bra. Her panties she left off this morning and naked she moves to her wardrobe. She takes out a silk night dress and slips into it, the smooth fabric sliding over her skin, caressing her delicately. With a blush on her face, her core tingling with the excitement she has hidden all day, she walks to the cupboard behind her sofa and pours herself a glass of red wine, before nestling herself on her couch.
She pulls her legs up, folds them under her body and clicks on play. Immediatly the screen is filled with the study of the target, the handsome man who’s computer she hacked and who is being filmed while he unravels the riddles he received. She slips her hand over her thigh, letting her fingers rest against the lips of her sex, her thumb slowly moving over her pelvis. She watches as he enters the code into the screen, smiling as she is surprised with his resourcefulness and, maybe, his luck. She sees his green eyes open wide as the scene of the masturbating girl starts. At first his face is close to the screen, allowing her to take in the details of his eyes, his lips, her thoughts starting to drift, then his face disappears from the screen, only to show him take out his member and start to masturbate.
She whimpers, having memorised the exact time of the scene in the clip, after watching it at least 5 times at work. His robe slips down his hairy, muscular legs and she watches him stroke his member, licks her lips as she sees the first droplets of precum appear. His pleasure appareant, the movements of his hand controlled, his determination shown, fuelling her own excitement. Her finger slips under the hood that hides her clit and starts to nudge her button, drawing soft, almost hidden moans from her lips. Her eyes peeled to the screen, the sounds of the woman grunting on screen mixing in with his uncontrolled moans making her juices start to flow.
She looks at the timer, knowing there are exactly 35 seconds left before he explodes, and pushes two fingers inside her sex. Coated with her juices, she slides them over her clit, opening her lips and exposing her hardened button. She pinches it repetitevly, her moans getting louder, her eyes fixated on the head that appears each time his hand moves down. As he strokes faster, she increases the speed of her fingers, matching his rythm. As he grunts through his teeth, holding back his full passion, she gives into her own and erupts on her couch. Her hips bucking upwards, her stomach tightening, her inner walls grabbing at her fingers as she watches the spurts of semen jetting from his shaft. Moans streaming from her lips as she grinds against her own hand, the insides of her thighs covered with her juices. She gasps for air, her eyes still clinging to the screen, watching small streams of semen drizzle down his stomach.
She giggles, shaking her head, feeling foolish, girlish to be taken by the sight of the man masturbating. She has worked with the company for 7 years now and this was a regular play, she has seen more men masturbate as they were confronted with the live feed. But this man is different, there is something about him. His posture, his voice.. She smiles again, listening to him talking to himself, fuelling her unexplained attraction to him. She shrugs her shoulders, pushing her romantic thoughts away and cleans herself up. She turns off her laptop and moves to her bedroom, slipping into her bed, drifting off to dreams she shouldn’t dream
***
It’s 5:30 am and without the alarm going off, I am wide awake. I open my eyes and look at the high ceiling of the bedroom, the world outside still dark, the last star disappearing at the cope of heaven. I push the sheets off me and slide out of bed, my robe dropped at the foot end of the bed, quickly put on. I run down the stairs and move quickly through the hall, opening the door outside. Nothing.. no newspaper. I check my watch, 5:35.. Isn’t the paper usually here? But in the distance I hear the soft squeeks of peddels moving, the rattle of a bike coming closer, the soft plop of newspapers landing on driveways. I see the young woman cycle up the drive and walk towards her, extending my arm and wishing her a good morning. Her cheeks flush as her eyes slide over my body, my robe short, half way to my thighs, tied losely around my waist, exposing my chest and a large portion of my lower abdomen. I smile and wink, take the paper and turn back to the house. Only when I start to close the door, I hear the bike move again, having felt her burning eyes on my back as I walked towards it.
I quickly go into the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine, placing the newspaper on the kitchen table. I force myself to take a cigarette first and wait for the machine to warm up. I change the pad and light my smoke when the light stops flickering. I press and the kitchen starts to smell of coffee, nudging at the remnants of my sleep. I wait for the cup to fill, add two spoons of sugar and stir slowy as I move to the kitchen table. I sit down, take a sip of coffee and feel the last shrouds of sleep disappear. I pull on the cigarette, inhale deep and open the newspaper, skipping through to the pages of the personal adds. My eyes fly over the mush of letters until they find what I am looking for.
“Mothered without conception, a miracle indeed
A heavenly burden, blessed in her core”Wriggeled from below the earth
dangling on a hook, twisting in his wait
long and slender without sight, quickly turned into ….”I read carefully, the first part of the rhyme immediatly triggering a response.
“This has to be Mary. Mothered without conception, As far as history tells, there has been only one woman. 3 clues now.. A lighthouse, Mary and an island or atol. The last clue must be decisive.. At least, let’s hope so…
My voice slipped from my attention and I catch myself talking to myself. I giggle, a habit I picked up as a boy and never got rid off. Even in my sleep I talk to myself, which has caused embarrasing moments with a lover that often spent the night with me. I focus my attention back on the riddle. It seems almost unlikely as I look at the second part of the hint. It must be a worm, used as bait. But what is the right answer? Either worm or bait… Hmm.. I lean over and turn my pc on, open my browser after tapping a dent in the desk with impatiency.
I enter the 4 keywords I wrote down, into a search engine. ‘Lighthouse, Mary, Island, Worm’
4 hits seem important enough to look at, so I click the first. ‘Mary Island Light Station’. Though I am uncertain of what this big price will be, the location in Alaska seems unlikely. I go back and click the next link. ‘Gower Peninsular, Swansea Wales’. This link a dead end as well, referring to a church and a lighthouse called Mumbles. I click the third link, somehow my stomach starts to flutter as I read the subscript. ‘Whitley bay, st Mary’s Lighthouse’. This must be it. Eagerly I wait for the page to load, my eyes moving quickly over the text until they spot the word ‘bait’. Bait island… St Mary’s Lighthouse on Bait Island, Whitley Bay!! My heart skips a beat and I jump from my chair, clench my hand into a fist and yell out my joy.For a moment I bask in the glory of solving the riddle, only to conclude that I have nowhere to take my answer, except to the lighthouse itself. Going over the clues so far, I find the one line I was looking for: “Be on time, at the right place”. I am convinced I found the place, but the time.. There has been no clue about that yet. Or did I miss something? I go over the riddles and the messages again and again, finding no clue or hint towards a date or time. Frustrated I fall back into my chair, then jolt forward as I remember the phone. Damned, where did I put it? Ah, upstairs.. I run up the stairs, my robe flying open in my haste, bursting through the door of my bedroom and walking straight to the bedside table. The phone is flashing and as I slide it open, a text appears.
“Text the solution”Quickly I press reply and let my fingers dance over the keys, checking the spelling before I press send. With my heart beating in my throat, I sink back to the bed, my eyes fixated on the screen, waiting for a reply. After a few minutes I become restless, feeling foolish for just sitting there, staring at a blank screen. I decide to take a shower and put the phone back on the side table. Just as I turn and walk to the bathroom that is connected to my bedroom, the phone starts buzzing. I stop in my step, turn and dash back to the bed, eagerly grabbing the phone. I slide it open and a message appears, including an attachment, a picture.
“Correct. Solve the puzzle, guess the time. Text the answer. You have 24 hours. Time starts in 10 seconds”Quickly I open the attachment and a picture appears
At least I gave a hint… It doesn't matter how the answer is gotten, use all the resources you have.. Google, call friends, try bribery or offering sexual favors.. *grins* Just kidding…
I know the people that visit this forum are smart.. so I am trying to make hard riddles… A first time for me so I hope every one is liking it.. I might be enticed to do another one… Anyway, part 3 will follow shortly.. This time a different riddle at the end…
ms Brandy,
the answer is correct. The right location is st Mary's Lighthouse, on Bait Island, Whitley bay..
I will start on episode 3 soon.. Good luck!
