Lettre d' Amore

Years ago, my brothers company relinquished control of a log cabin home that he had built by hand, north of Vancouver, Canada, to my family. He wanted us to have it, as he had decided to spend more time in the U.S, at his residence in Scottsdale, Arizona, as he was no longer able to contend with the Canadian winters.

Recently, during an extensive inventory, and cleanup of the vast grounds that comprise the sanctuary that was bequeathed to my family, my adult age children came upon a secret room within a small wooden, military style building that my brother used to hold the extensive collection of military gear, equipment, uniforms (tactical, and dress) that he used, and wore over the course of his ten years of service in the American Army.

In this room, were numerous pictures of him in his youth, with his comrades. These pictures, were framed, and revealed him in various locales of the Italian Alps, on skis, solo, or in small clusters of soldiers pulling snow sleds with equipment.

There were pictures of him repelling off towers, and mountain sides. Plus many more of him, with his comrades, dressed in camouflage uniforms, gathered up, all smiles, holding their weapons. It was the most unique opportunity to see him, in this obviously important period of his life.

A period that for the most part, I was not privy to. He had not shared photographs of himself in uniform, of his mates, nor mentioned in any great detail the experiences that he had partook in while in the Army.

All that he failed to share, was adequately depicted in the many photographs that my children and I took great delight in spending hours looking over. It brought me closer to the older brother that I had never truly known, over the course of my life. The pictures revealed much about him.

There was a seriousness to him, that I saw in person. A smile was rare for him to display. That's what I recall of him. A man, who rarely revealed joy. Always serious. But, in the group pictures there could be seen a smirk, and in some a broad smile.

It touched my heart, to know that in the period when he was in Europe (which he loved deeply) serving as a red beret, in a paratrooper battalion, that he seemed at ease, confident, and happy.

The pictures revealed much, but the larger treasure was found in the filing cabinets in the room. Inside were scrapbooks, containing more images of his military service, the military documents of the training schools that he attended (Airborne School, French Commando School, and Ranger School, being some of the more prominent courses) and journals of his travels.

As I have discovered, after reviewing the documents, scrapbooks, and his personal papers, and files, he was a prolific writer. It would seem, that many of his stories were very graphic of his past life.

One of my sons, then unearthed what I found to be most important. An Apple iMac computer, that surprisingly, was in working order when plugged in, and my only daughter, managed to use her wit, to somehow gain access to the files and the extensive pictorial collection.

It was then, that we learned that he had worked as a professional photographer long ago. He seemed to have a favorite model. A young woman, petite, well endowed, with dark eyes, and a radiant smile, that I honestly found extremely alluring. Married, though I am, I must confess, my being drawn to her.

There were hundreds of pictures of this woman, so beautiful that I found myself captivated by her. It was easy to understand what drew my brother to her. Eventually, I came across many pictures of the two of them, in various locales through out Europe, and the states.

He loved her. It was obvious, by the closeness, the radiance in his eyes, which I had never seen. He looked, foreign to me. There was a smile, in all of these pictures. He appeared to be a man who only knew joy. I, did not know the man in these pictures.

My children and I spent hours over the course of a week, going through the computer, discovering new pictures, and finding ourselves completely amazed by this side of my older brother, that we never knew.

Then, once again, my daughter managed to locate an email account of his, and somehow gained access to it (she's a very clever girl, works for the RCMP, thats the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, for those of you not, in the know).

It was here, that she uncovered his emails. Inside a draft email, she found the messages that he created over the course of just less than a years time. In reading this, we learned of the dark side, of my brother.

He, was distant from the family for a reason. My daughter, has suggested that this document be made available as a public service announcement. To give the public some insight into the motivations and personality of a serial killer.

My brother, was never caught, and there has been no accounting for his criminal past. His name has been changed, only to protect the family of which he was estranged for most of his life. We, in no way, condone his actions of long ago. We condemn him. You, may judge him for yourself.

1 February

Moscow, Russa

I was dancing at "The Gulag," when I ran into "Naughty Nelly," of all people! She, as expected was surrounded by many admirers. Despite that, she saw me on the dance floor, and made her way to me in the chaos, and the moment that I saw her, her face radiated that explosive energy, her eyes were on fire. Like I remembered!

Instantly, I thought of you, and a surge went through my body. A euphoria that perhaps, possibly I could find you. If only, she was still in contact with you. And, if she would be willing to provide me with that information. An uncertainty.

It was good to see her! We danced for a while, and she led me to the private chat booths on the top floor. They weren't there when we visited last, years ago. If you recall, there was the private poker rooms, at the rear of the club, behind the group sex room. The room, that I keep you at arms length from...

They've broken those rooms up and made them intimate booths for couples to meet and speak in private, with large flat screen TV's. The walls are sound proofed so irregardless of the noise generated within the confines of the club, you can enter one of those booths, and it's like you're in the back of a luxury car, alone with someone special.

She held my hand, and pushed her way through the crowd, and then used a special code to enter, and the deafening level of music just evaporated, and I was speechless. Seeing her, dressed as she was, reminded me of the many times that we spent at clubs throughout Europe, and the U.S., which caused my heart to ache, for you.

I know, that you're involved with someone presently. Nelly gave me a solid update on what has gone on with you over the last seven years. When she told me, my heart, sank. I just listened to her, and barely spoke, for minutes. But, I knew, that since she was willing to openly reveal partial details of your life to date, that there was a reason.

That underneath it all, you had not let go of me, in your heart. That despite the manner in which our relationship ended, the way that I allowed it to crumble, and watched you walk out that door, that one last time, that you had not let go. That you must have confided in her, and she was releasing vital information that you wanted me to have.

It hurt me, to hear that you have children with someone else. It hurt, because I wanted that with you, and I realize that, now, that I will most likely never, father children. Never, know that joy.

There was a major misunderstanding. Nelly provided some very intimate information that caused me to become very emotional. I lost it. Tears flowed, and would not stop. A difficult moment. Very sad.

She said that, you had mentioned me, recently, and that she felt, though you had not said anything directly, that you would possibly welcome an overture from me.

But, she warned me. She said, that you still harbored resentment, and anger. That you felt abandoned at that moment, and that the feeling still lingered, these years later.

So, I would like to speak to that, but in an e-mail, it seems as if there is a lack of emotional connection to that very important moment. In person would be better, but that seems impossible, considering the particulars of the situation.

What to do? You may not even care to respond to this? Or, you might? Hopefully, you will. Hopefully, you are able to forgive, my misguided, youthful lack of awareness of matters.

My cell phone number is included below. Texting, or a phone call, is most likely beyond what you would be willing to do? It would be far too risky. Your spouse, I hear is an IT specialist, an engineer well known for past work with some of Silicon Valley's biggest names.

Therefore, he would be someone who would no doubt put that expertise to use by placing you under some sense of virtual surveillance that you most likely would not be able to detect.

Hence why, I am creating this account, for you to come to. The messages are here, waiting for you. If you care to respond, then I will be extremely grateful. In fact, I would be ecstatic if you did. If you don't care to involve yourself, and place yourself potentially at risk, then I would understand.

If so, please thank Nelly, for the time spent with her, and the opportunity to listen to what is happening in your life. There isn't truly, a day that goes by, that I don't think of you, have an image of gestures or words that you would say, or recall very special, highly erotic moments from our extremely intimate past.

At the moment I am listening to the INXS music video, "Never Tear Us Apart." Though we were far removed from the 80's, we did enjoy listening to the music from that era! That video, always reminded me of the Italian vacation that we took in November. Cold, snow, bundled up in heavy coats.

There you were, with that black skirt that hugged your hips, long black stockings, Victorian booties (with skulls attached), tight, tit hugging white blouse, and black cape. The spiked hair, with blue in it, was an excellent touch. I recall, being in Milano with you, very much because of that look.

That look, had those Italian men losing their God damn minds. Those men, all these years later, most likely, have not forgotten you either. There was almost a fight every damn day there. But, despite your open display of your sexuality, I loved being in your company. Did I make that apparent, then? Hopefully! Being with you, no matter where we were, was...a memorable moment.

There are so many images from that time. Without question, the best three years of my life, Better than the Army, better than all the other periods in between, before, and after. The time with you, was definitely well spent.

I regret, deeply, watching you walk out that door. I'm choking on the memory. Choking on it. You looked so beautiful, and yet, I simply let you walk away. A grave mistake. Perhaps Nelly shared with you, how despondent I became after that? Four years, with no female contact. None.

Can you believe that? True, girl! Really. I, was devastated by your absence. I still am. All I want, is just the opportunity to communicate with you. Just to be able to discuss the past, to come to grips with all that was left unsaid at that time. To resolve any lingering feelings that might cause your heart harm.

I love you. Very much. I miss, touching you. That, I want you to know. You, are my heart. That, has not, will not, can not, change. Hopefully, you feel the same, in your heart? If so, you will come to this account, read these messages, and hopefully, reply. Nelly, should be able to brief you enough to make you feel secure in doing so, if you choose.

The system, is pretty much fool proof. Unless, you happen to be a general, with a mistress. Perhaps you heard about the general, who got in trouble. He, was in my first Army unit, just a few years prior to my being assigned.

Anyway, I desperately hope, that you will read my words. Even if you don't reply, ever, it's important to me that you at least are able to know, how I feel presently, and what was going through my mind, long go. There is no way for me to have feedback regarding this, as you know.

Nelly was kind enough to give me her time, to act as an emissary in this matter, but she did not allow me the means to communicate with her. She made it clear, that though we had an incredible time long ago, that she was very much your friend, and that she would never have contact with me again, most likely.

That, if you were to sanction such an action, then yes. But otherwise, no. It was, so incredibly good to see her. It was like, I almost expected you to be just out of sight, possibly an arms length away. But, that was not the case.

Your absence, hurts my heart. Know that, please. It does. There is only you, and without you, I am adrift, in a dark sea, at night, unable to see my way. So, read my words, understand how I feel. Never let go of me, even if you never reply, or see me again.

When you drive across the Brooklyn Bridge, think of me. Nelly, did say that you lived in New York. It was a slip up, but I didn't press her to reveal which borough (The Bronx), or which town (Yonkers), or what your address is (Bronx River Road).

I promise, I will not visit. Truly, I won't. New Yawk, is your town. There is no reason for me to visit. No reason, other than to save you. So, if you need to be saved, call me. Just let me know. If you need me, I will come to you.

"Fall to Pieces," by Velvet Revolver, plays now. It makes me think of you. If you think I am whole, apart from you, you would be mistaken. Really, I am shattered. Seven years later, still. I do my work, I function in that realm, but otherwise, I am am broken. I hide it well. No drinking, none.

I see you. I see, your eyes, your flesh, your bare shoulders, your curves. I feel, the warmth of your body, still. Your body, burned. There was a warmth, an abundance of energy that no other woman has. It must come from your soul. A soul, on fire.

You, burn, within me, still. Your heart, must still feel mine, beating? It must, yes? I want to believe that it does. Something, my sense, says, yes. Based upon what Nelly said, what she revealed. The answer to that, is a resounding, "yes." Yes, you do. If so, read these words. Feel, what I feel. I love you, still. Never, let go. Never, let your heart close on me. I wait for you. I do. I, wait, for you.

7 February

San Francisco, Ca

My return stateside, reveals no contact from you. No contact, and no awareness if you have read the messages. My heart, hopes, that you have. But, as Nelly said, there is an ache, that remains heartfelt, within you.

Every day, I fight back tears, without success. They form, they fall. In torrents, they emerge, and run down my face. It happens at the worst of times, occasionally. Walking in public, near Pier 39. A dinner in North Beach, close to the Italian restaurant that you were fond of visiting.

Yesterday, with a potential client, whom I believe I lost, as a result of strong emotions coming to the surface. We were in discussion, and she mentioned the outline for the pictures that she desired to have taken of two models. As I listened to her, I was transported to the past, and I thought that I was being introduced to you and Nelly.

The client, saw the tears form. She definitely caught it. She played it off, but from that moment on, I realized, by what was said, and what was not said, that she would seek another photographer to handle her needs.

Fortunately, I have managed my finances well. Well, for the moment. Once more, I find myself in a stupor, darkness swirling around me. All I think of, is you. Images come to mind, many, many times through the day, and in the night. Images of you dressing, or undressing.

Watching you, remove your clothing, was an experience that I truly did not get enough of. Your body, had me mesmerized. As you removed each article of your clothing, my breathing would slow, as I was visually assaulted by your milky white flesh presenting itself, revealing its contours.

Spectacular. Magnificent, incredibly stunning. The curves, so well proportioned on your petite frame. The ample breasts, stout, robust, your ass, perfectly formed. I wish that we could have filmed the process, in slow motion, perhaps in black and white?

You always dressed quickly, and out the door we were. Hmmm. I miss, so very much, the opportunity to see you, in your splendor, removing your clothing, allowing me to see all that you are.

8 Feb

San Francisco, Ca

Baby, there are so many images of you. Too many. All in my mind. Most never captured on film. A great loss. You, in your element, seducing women, bringing me along for the ride. Many times, I was overjoyed to be present. But, there were those few moments that I had my hard reservations about.

For example, that dinner at the Silicon Valley tech moguls home in Los Altos Hills. The dinner where, we sat with 12 other couples. And, over time, the women began to leave the table, until there was only you. You, your robust body on display, in that form fitting black dress, that went mid thigh on the right leg, and on the other, it went higher.

After the last woman had left, he stood up, and then raised his glass, and said, after the doors had closed, that it was time for everyone to enjoy the evenings entertainment.

Then I see you stand up, and begin walking to the head of the table, quickly. Your hands removing the black belt, and you allowed the dress to fall off your shoulders, dropping to the floor.

Several of the men began to whistle, some began to clap their hands. Someone said, "all hands on deck, its' time to mount up."

With your body completely bare, flesh revealed to all present. The men began to undress as well, and then you got on your knees and you took the fully erect cock of the tech mogul in your mouth, and you began to slide along his pole, with ease.

His eyes looked down at me, sitting at the table, he raised his glass, and said, "here's to your woman, sucking and fucking, each and everyone of us, over the next 48 hours." He laughed, and his face hardened, and he grabbed the back of your head, and forced you to perform at a faster pace.

The only thing preventing me from rising out of my chair, and killing him, was the .40 caliber Glock pointed pressed firmly into the back of my head. His eyes, burned into mine. He nodded his head, smiling. Giving me that look of power, seducing all before it.

I tried to look away, as you climbed up on that hard, rock solid oak dinner table, and you got on all fours. Once again, he took your mouth and filled it, as another man mounted you from behind. All the men, looked at me. High tech executives, engineers, men of immense wealth.

White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, and Indian. They surrounded you, touching you as they stroked their penises into erect states, awaiting their turn to mount you, and ride your pussy.

Double input, evolved into you being mounted by three men, simultaneously. You were definitely receiving pleasure out of the moment. Your body was possessed in that animalistic state that you would lose yourself in.

And I tried to look away, but another man, came around to my side, and placed another Glock in my right temple, prodding my head to the side, to watch. Handcuffs were then applied to me. One of the men whispered in my ear, "enjoy the evening. Relax, remain calm. She's going to be fucked hundreds of times over the next two days."

The weapons were pressed further into my skull, and another man whispered in a very menacing voice, "she's ours, to play with as we choose. She's paying off a large debt, on the behalf of another. Theres nothing you can do, to alter the course of the next 48 hours. Relax, enjoy her being fucked by other men. You see, she's enjoying herself, and you should too."