End of the Line

I'm not sure where, if anywhere, there is to go from here. I know I'm out of my fucking bipolar mind but I cannot shake this feeling. I have written a story called HARDBALL and it is the most relevant, compelling story written this century if not the last one.

The vivid violence and raw sex appeals to men. The touching description of romance and the courage and independence of EMILY SANCHEZ captures the imagination of women. Young people will be attracted to the direct challenge posed to the ultimate authority and older folks are enticed by the strong baseball undertow.

Despite all this appeal, over all these years just a handful of agents have read a few chapters and passed. So now I'm stuck with one of the greatst stories ever written yet just a handful of my potential audience has read it. Go figure. If anyone has any ideas how I attract readers online, please let me know. That request, of course, is futile since no one reads this fucking blog but what the hell. I will die trying. Thank you. Here's chapter 14, one of my favorites:

Chapter 14-Vegas

Bob and Emily touched down in the Nevada desert about 7:45 p.m. on Friday. Emily could think of only one thing: A solid 15 hours to attack the tables until her mysterious meeting almost 24 hours away. Bringston liked to partake in a little gaming himself, but he couldn’t risk being outside very long in light of the extensive dragnet Marsh had on him.
As Emily and Bob rode in the taxi together, they looked at each other with penetrating eyes. They often smiled at each other as if to say, “I’m glad I’m here with you.” Although their hunger for each other was always present, lust had little to do with these deep emotions. It was far beyond the physical attraction. It was trust, friendship and loyalty. At this moment, the comfort and confidence in the competence and courage of this particular partnership was more important than any pleasures of the flesh. Those strong sexual urges did surface randomly. They glanced at each other curiously but knew that their respective physical impulses would have to be tempered during the Vegas mission. Engaging in a sexual encounter and putting themselves in such a vulnerable position was too high of a security risk. Though they knew it would be temporarily unfulfilled, the primal attraction they had for one another created a warmth emanating from deep within them. Despite these blossoming biological forces, Bob and Emily composed themselves in preparation of their mission and protecting each other from the inevitable dangers ahead. The trust in each other was well imbedded into their minds and souls. It was as inspiring as it was comforting.
They checked in at the Golden Nugget in downtown Vegas. They thought it best to get the 2-bedroom Presidential suite. It would be hard enough to resist each other in the same hotel room, but impossible sleeping in the same bedroom. The suite would make the highest of royalty feel comfortable. They opened the tall double doors to a spectacular foyer and walked on to a polished white tile floor with gold strands scattered throughout. The walls were trimmed with gold crown molding around the perimeter of this 1,150 square foot opulent enclave and smartly decorated with fine art that would be the envy of any collector. The sunken den was fully equipped with a large stereo system and built-in speakers throughout the suite, a big screen satellite TV and a sofa, thick in leather, deep in comfort, winding around half the perimeter of the lowered room.
High above this already erotic ensemble was a ceiling with a unique added feature. With the mere flick of a switch, the guest could choose an outdoor fantasy of a graphic depiction of all 9 planets of the Solar System, or a bright orange field of California poppies beneath a glistening Western afternoon sky across which was a freshly formed rainbow.
“What do ya say, baby, planets or poppies?” Bob asked in a playful, yet firmly masculine manner.
As Emily’s ovaries and her thirst for adventure took control of her body, any tension she had suddenly disappeared. The stress and high security of the situation didn’t seem to bother them much. In fact, the threat of death hovering over them seemed to heighten the sexual excitement.
“I say that I already hit the jackpot with you,” she said with a sultry smile.
Bob returned a warm grin of confidence. But he was still tight and just couldn’t relax with the pressure of the mission on his mind. Once the two touched, they were physically inseparable for the next 2 hours. It was as if they were making love for the last time. During most of this time, pretty much every opening on each of their bodies was entered, or otherwise explored. They were aggressively searching to connect to the soul of their partner as deep and wide as possible.
As, Emily rubbed Bob’s shoulders, the feeling in her thumbs of a muscle or gland beneath the surface of his neck, unexplainably moistened the area between her thighs. It must have been a gland she touched as it prompted Bob into a state of total relaxation and made his masculinity fully surface. That biological phenomenon along with raging hormones, blood and other fluids of all kinds racing throughout his body, blasted him into full male arousal. It was an island of firmness surrounded by a sea of calmness over the rest of his body.
She inspired him to delve deep into her body and soul to unleash a most magnificent female. A woman even Emily never knew existed. Together, they reached heights of sexual pleasure experienced only by genuinely caring couples. Those whose only real pleasure is realized when the enjoyment of their partner is confirmed. Judging from their moans, screams and language, they each reached a level of gratification few have ever seen.
Making love to Emily was the ultimate boost of confidence for Bob. Any doubts he had about the success of the mission had vanished. He was focused and ready to do whatever it took to fight his enemies, present or potential. Their physical and metaphysical merger was just the medicine each of them needed. About half past midnight, they both fell into a most peaceful sleep. For Emily, though, five some-odd hours of sleep was just about right. Especially for a hard-driven, success-oriented person like her and particularly when that dynamic female is in Vegas. She thought, though, maybe she shouldn’t get up to go downstairs so as not to awaken Bob.
“Fuck it,” she thought, “There must be some reason I woke up so early. I’ll move around carefully and write him a note.”
She quietly rolled over and hopped out of the large circular bed. Even as she slid out of bed, Emily did so with style and grace. She peered out the window and saw what looked like a rainbow to the south. She soon realized it was the multicolored lights from the Strip about a mile away reflecting off the clouds in the dawn sky. She was wearing a see-through nightshirt, which covered her about to the mid-thigh. Though so scantily dressed, she softly ventured out onto the patio. Sunrise was imminent. Sunrays bursting from behind the Sierra Nevadas formed laser-like streaks glistening along the top and across a large section of the vast mountain range. She looked to the south and in the distance saw the mega hotel-casinos on the Strip. “Some great places to eat and great shopping,” she contemplated, “but the only really cool crap games are Downtown.”
She dashed back into the room and took a brisk, but thorough shower. She slipped into a pair of tight blue Guess jeans, a loose-fitting red, white and mostly navy blue cotton knit Tommy Hilfiger blouse and a pair of Prado blue suede loafers. As she entered the elevator on the top floor, she looked as if she was preparing for war. As her fiercely competitive mind saw it, those friendly flakes running the games down there are focused solely on emptying as much of her pocket as possible. Her mission was to not only defend her wallet but to make it grow in the midst of a highly distractive atmosphere including loud music and other obnoxious noises like those from computerized gaming devices.
The biggest distraction though, was the sometimes rather attractive men running the dice game who intentionally or otherwise, diverted her from her goal of protecting and expanding her pocketbook. Sure she could afford to lose a few grand but hated to lose at anything and this war fantasy was instrumental in her motivation. Though she knew her life could be put in danger at any moment, she just had to take the chance and play her little personal game. She did not, however, lose sight of reality. Although Marsh may not have known of Emily previously, his massive investigative forces could have already revealed her. For all she knew, Joe may have been forced to inform Marsh as to their planned Vegas meeting and her involvement. She trusted no one. Everyone was a potential enemy.
As the elevator car, occupied solely by Emily, descended from the 11th Floor, she noticed that it did not stop on the 10th and appeared to building up speed through Number 9. Emily was counting on not stopping before getting to the bottom. She hated elevators and was only using one now because she sprained her ankle while doing aerobic exercises. Her claustrophobic condition neared catastrophe whenever a crowd crammed into her car.
This time though, it sailed straight past 8 headed, she hoped, non-stop to the ground. Suddenly, it stopped at 7. The door stayed open for a few seconds. Nobody entered. The doors started to close when a large male hand suddenly emerged around the edge of one of the doors. The man pushed the door back open and walked in. He was about 50 with a chiseled white face, crew cut, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and thin black tie. Emily’s experience told her he was a cop. Hopefully, she thought, not a federal officer or otherwise connected to Marsh. As they caught each other’s eye, Emily’s smile was returned with a cold, stone face and then the man just looked up at the floor indicator.
Her chronic claustrophobic condition made her uneasy in the tightly closed quarters of the elevator car. It seemed to be taking forever to reach the bottom floor. He abruptly reached for his inside coat pocket. Emily gasped ever so faintly and for a second or two and seriously considered making a move for the gun resting against her ankle. She realized she would not have to when she observed the hand held computer the guy pulled from his pocket. Noticing the obviously startled look on Emily’s face, the man finally broke a smile. “Hotel security ma’m, just keeping an eye on things,” he said as he entered security status information into his computer.
Emily released a sigh of relief. What she first thought was her first life or death encounter turned out to be a harmless private security check. Now, she was ready to relax at the crap table.
The dice were brutal. By the time Bob paged her at about 9, she lost over $500. She dropped another 300 by lunchtime. She had only $400 of her self-allotted gambling money left. She was not going to let the casino take her last few dollars.
“I’m going to cool off at the pool, babe,” she told Bob on the phone.
As enticing the prospect of seeing Emily in a bikini was, Bringston could not risk going out in public until it was absolutely necessary. He knew that at this very moment, Marsh was working furiously to track him down. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that Marsh knew he was in Vegas. His premonition was right. Marsh had learned of the Hanrahan meeting as a result of his World Wide Web monitors. During the last several weeks, men and women on his staff had been closely watching all net activity by government employees, especially lawyers and other high-ranking agents. It was people in those positions most likely to have been in contact with Bringston. Joe Hanrahan was one of those monitored. The transcript of the initial web dialogue between Emily and Joe was revealing enough as to the subject of the meeting. The chat between the two did not last long enough for a trace to Emily. Besides, as a criminal defense lawyer, Sanchez took no shortcuts in equipping her computer system with the most cutting edge firewalls and other security devices. The identity of Sanchez was not at all revealed by Hanrahan. Marsh was not surprised Hanrahan would not be one to cooperate. For years, Joe Hanrahan had been nothing but a thorn in Marsh’s side. He knew Hanrahan not only had the information to bring his operations to a grinding halt, but also had the courageous, independent mind to go public at any moment with what he knew. Thus, one of the major reasons for Marsh’s success. He had an uncanny ability to respect his opponents for their strong points and take advantage of their weaknesses. Hate and revenge were not part of Victor’s vocabulary. Anticipation and preparation were.
Preventing Hanrahan from going to the Vegas meeting was easy enough for someone like Marsh. He simply had a briefcase full of hi-grade cocaine planted in Joe’s government issued car and promptly had 2 of his insider DEA agents arrest him en route to the airport from his office. He would have done the same to Bob and Ron long ago, but Bringston knew he was being pursued and had been able to elude Marsh so far. In addition, up to this point, Marsh was giving Bringston more rope before pouncing on him. Marsh knew the Hanrahan case would not stick but the arrest would certainly delay him enough to make him miss the meeting, even if he was able to post the prohibitively high bail. No more slack for Bob. It was time to take him in.
On the way down to the meeting, Emily and Bob stopped at the hotel gift shop for some soda. Bringston turned back towards the casino and Emily stopped him. She would never walk that wa_Oops-I didn't copy and paste the whole thing. Well, if you really want the rest and more chapters, you'll ask at andyweitz3@gmail.com