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Coffee rust is a serious disease. It's been affecting economies of countries all over the world. This disease has been killing coffee crops and thus affecting the coffee production. Therefore, both small and large scale coffee producers have to do something about it.
However, combatting with this disease isn't an easy thing to do. That's why, Priscila Chaverri, a professor in the plant science and landscape architecture department, wants to help in finding a solution. Next fall, the students of the University of Maryland will conduct research to look for ways in solving the coffee rust diseases.
According to Chaverri, the National Science Foundation awarded her a $2 million grant, along with two researchers at Ohio State University in September to conduct research over the course of five to six years. She will be using $720,000 of the grant to conduct her part of the research.
Chaverri's role in this research project will allow her to go to work with Coopetarrazu, a coffee farming cooperative located in the central region of the San Marcos de Tarazzu mountains in Costa Rica, to collect the fungi and examine it in the fields and in labs at this university and Ohio State. Three students — one undergraduate and two graduate — from this university will help Chaverri conduct her research, she said.


text:
Bogoslova Is., AS-205
Tillamook Rock, NA-211
Cato Reef, OC-265
Telengbe Is., AF-111
Morane Atoll, OC-297
Kayak Island, NA-157
Ashmore Reef, OC-216
Iony Island, AS-069
Bhola Island, AS-140
Viktoriya Island, EU-190
Arakamchechen Is., AS-071
Dobrzhanskogo Is., AS-203
St. John's Is., OC-101
Rathbone Is, NA-243
Ellesmere Is, NA-008
East Pen Is, NA-230
Axel Heilberg Is, NA-043
Lunga Is., EU-108
Sao Francisco Is., SA-027
Sandy Islet, OC-294
Gonzalo Is., SA-097
Isla Escondida, SA-096
Welcome. If you want to learn more about us, you have come to the right place.
The IOTA (Islands On The Air) Programme is an exciting and innovative activity programme that has caught the interest of thousands of radio amateurs worldwide. Established in 1964, it promotes radio contacts with stations located on islands around the world to enrich the experience of all active on the amateur bands and, to do this, it draws on the widespread mystique surrounding islands. It is administered by Islands On The Air (IOTA) Ltd (called here IOTA Management) in partnership with the Radio Society of Great Britain (RSGB).
IOTA Management has grouped the oceans' islands into some 1200 'IOTA groups' with, for reasons of geography, varying numbers of 'counters', i.e. qualifying islands, in each group and has published the listings in the IOTA Directory and on the IOTA website. The objective, for the IOTA Island Chaser, is to make radio contact with at least one counter in as many of these groups as possible and, for the IOTA Island Activator, to provide such island contacts. The programme has a strong rule structure. IOTA Management encourages friendly competition among chasers by publishing details of participants' performance in an Honour Roll and annual listings, as well as by recognising it with certificates and prestige awards.
Right, now you know the basic idea. This website will fill in the gaps. It has been designed by the IOTA IT Team to meet the specific needs of those participating in the programme. We are indebted to Michael Wells G7VJR for making Club Log available for QSO matching for IOTA awards.
IOTA Management thank the many IOTA enthusiasts who have contributed to IT development through Friends of IOTA.
Island Level - GBP 100-249 Atoll Level - GBP 10-99

subset: commoncrawl


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iPhone 5 Comes to Regional U.S. Carriers on Friday
A number of regional carriers will start offering the new iPhone 5 on Friday, and a few are knocking $50 off the price of the updated Apple smartphone.
One week after Apple released its next-generation smartphone on AT&T, Verizon, and Sprint, regional carriers Cellcom, nTelos, Appalachian Wireless, C Spire, GCI, and Leap Wireless' Cricket Communications will start selling the new phone.
Cellcom, nTelos, and Appalachian will be offering the iPhone 5 for $50 less than the major carriers: $149 (16GB), $249 (32GB), and $349 (64GB). C Spire and GCI are not yet listing pricing for the iPhone 5, and Cricket is offering the smartphone on a no-contract basis starting at $499.99.
The thinnest and lightest iPhone ever comes with a 4-inch Retina display touch screen, and runs on an A6 chip for blazing connection speeds. It also comes with iOS 6, which has been scrutinized recently thanks to the lackluster Apple maps app.
"We've seen the anticipation for iPhone 5 grow and are excited to soon offer our customers this fantastic phone on our network," Cellcom CEO Pat Riordan said in a statement.
nTelos Wireless President Jim Hyde echoed Riordan's thoughts, saying that "Now customers can couple the world's most iconic device with our industry-leading, nationwide unlimited smartphone plans."
Meanwhile, many of the regional carriers will sell the iPhone 4S for a measly $49.99. If that's still too much to pay for a smartphone, pick up the iPhone 4 from some of these carriers for free.
nTelos and Cellcom snagged the iPhone 4 and iPhone 4S in April. C Spire started selling the phones in November 2011.
For more, see PCMag's review of the Apple iPhone 5 and the slideshow below.
For more from Stephanie, follow her on Twitter @smlotPCMag.


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Port style Kerem Ben Zimra
Wine's name: Port style Kerem Ben Zimra Harvest year: 2007 Wine make-up: 60% Cabernet Sauvignon. & 40% Shiraz Vineyards: 3 different plots from Kerem Ben Zimra Plateau. Vineyard's Height: 870 meters above sea level Harvest date: 25.10.07 Time and fermentation temperature: For this series that has a unique growth method come grapes from a late hand harvest. When the grapes come to the winery the clusters are carefully selected, the seed is separated from the stalk from there a partial… More Details


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State of Health Estimation System for Lead-Acid Car Batteries Through Cranking Voltage Monitoring
Hyun, Ji Hoon
MetadataShow full item record
The work in this thesis is focused on the development and validation of an automotive battery monitoring system that estimates the health of a lead-acid battery during engine cranking and provides a low state of health (SOH) warning of potential battery failure. A reliable SOH estimation should assist users in preventing a sudden battery failure and planning for battery replacement in a timely manner. Most commercial battery health estimation systems use the impedance of a battery to estimate the SOH with battery voltage and current; however, using a current sensor increases the installation cost of a system due to parts and labor. The battery SOH estimation method with the battery terminal voltage during engine cranking was previously proposed. The proposed SOH estimation system intends to improve existing methods. The proposed method requires battery voltages and temperature for a reliable SOH estimation. Without the need for a costly current sensor, the proposed SOH monitoring system is cost-effective and useful for automotive applications. Measurement results presented in this thesis show that the proposed SOH monitoring system is more effective in evaluating the health of a lead-acid battery than existing methods. A low power microcontroller equipped prototype implements the proposed SOH algorithm on a high performance ARM Cortex-M4F based MCU, TM4C123GH6PM. The power dissipation of the final prototype is approximately 144 mW during an active state and 36 mW during a sleep state. With the reliability of the proposed method and low power dissipation of the prototype, the proposed system is suitable for an on-board battery monitoring as there is no on-board warning that estimates the health of a battery in modern cars.
- Masters Theses [19408]


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We are parents and carers of students at Amersham School, raising much-needed funds to provide the 'nice to haves' that education budgets don't. From indoor car boot sales, lively quiz and bingo nights, discos and movie nights for the students to our elegant themed ball, we run something for all.
And there's always a warm welcome for extra pairs of hands, be it helping at an occasional event or joining our small hard-working Committee. Read on to see what we do and how to get involved.
Amersham School Association
Stanley Hill
Christmas Fair
Sunday 24 November 2019 12.00-3.00pm
Sunday 8 December 2019
Sunday 12 January 2020
8.30am - 11.30am
ASA Meeting
Monday 13 January 2020, 8.00pm
Learning Resource Centre


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Every one of us wants to work on big, prestigious films. One of my favorite moments in 2013 was opening a group of audio files, pushing play, and hearing John Rhys-Davies start talking through my speakers! How cool is that! It is easy to place one movie, one director, or one actor above another. Combine with the common tendency we all have to think too highly of ourselves, and the resulting cocktail is positively molotov.
To the one making the project, nothing is really small. To the one on the journey, each step is an accomplishment. Our character is proven when we reach out our hand and show respect to other people on this rickety ladder we call filmmaking. Sometimes we think we are reaching down, but we are actually being pulled up.
In 2012 I made the mistake of pre-judging a film. I didn't like their poster. I didn't understand the title. I didn't recognize any of the people working on it. So I quietly filed the project in my "not interested" bin and dismissed it from my thoughts. I am glad that I had the sense to keep my mouth closed. (Thanks Mom and Dad for that training!)
One Saturday in August of 2013 I was scheduled to drive through Cincinnati and, as I often do, I called up a contact to see if we could grab lunch. Instead he invited me to a studio open house for a movie set to began principal photography. The result sounds like one of those over the top Facebook headlines:
"We followed the GPS to the middle-of-nowhere. What we found. Shocking!"
But it was shocking. Honest!
Henline Productions was about to film Polycarp: Destroyer of Gods. A massive amount of work was already evident. Their passion for the film was palpable in every costume, prop, paving stone, decoration, casting decision, and call sheet. I ate humble pie, introduced myself, and offered to help in any way I could. At the time I didn't expect to hear anything. It seemed that the Henlines had every base covered. Besides, I didn't think I deserved a call.
Several months later, the call did come and I had the honor of joining this group of people:
…plus many others making Polycarp come to life. The film has gone on to win awards and lead people to Jesus. It was a life-changing film for me as well. The Henlines are honest, sincere, generous, and hardworking. Garry Nation (aka Polycarp Himself) is a wonderful man with a great sense of humor. Ben Botkin is an amazing composer. Rusty Martin, Rich Swingle, Stacey Bradshaw, David Cook, Justin Lewis, and many others came into my life because of this remarkable project. Several of them are becoming fast friends.
And I almost missed it all.
Pingback: My Friends | Nathan Ashton Nathan Ashton


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Babes Papes represent custom designed premium rolling papers.
The whole product is kept as simple as possible. We from Babes Papes believe that a good product has to be simple and timeless.
Babes Papes rolling papers are very thin, made of hemp and are chlorine free. The packaging is kept pure and simple. The whole product is made from paper, or to be precise, from natural given products like wood and hemp, in case you forgot what papers are mado out of. Thus, the resources of Babes Papes are sustainable and easy to dissemble and recycle.
It is not our purpose to sell our product with the help of some marketing ad-ons that might increase the popularity of a product for a short time, but won't have any reasonable positive effect on its environment in the long term.
Our goal is to produce rolling papers wrapped in a delicious looking envelope and provide a unique design and image that gives Babes Papes the status of a collector's item like a rare record or an artistic painting you hang on the wall.


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PACIFIC RAILROAD SOCIETY is composed of people from all walks of life who share a common interest in railroads. We are one of the oldest and largest independent rail enthusiast organizations in the United States, having an average annual membership of over 450. Donations are tax deductible under Federal and State law. Membership in the Society is open to anyone interested in railroads or rail transit. Train travel, history, preservation, equipment restoration and photography are among the interests and activities of the Society. They are all done on a voluntary basis.
PRS Holiday Luncheon and Fundraiser
"Time for Trains!
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Once again we will be at the Los Amigos Golf Course in Downey, CA from 9:00 am to 2:00 pm.
Guest speaker David Coscia
Raffle and Door Prizes
Special Award Presentation
$35 before 11/15/2019 or $38 after
Download the flyer to send a check or pay on-line.
Pacific Railroad Society presents, Excursion # 557, Two round trips to San Diego on PRS' 1956 Pullman Sleeping Car, the "National Forum" on Saturday January 25, 2020.
Travel aboard Pacific Railroad Society's 1956 Pullman Sleeping Car, the National Forum, at speeds of up to 90-mph. This historic railroad car will be connected to the regularly scheduled Amtrak trains shown below, but will only have passengers booking through Pacific Railroad Society (no Amtrak passengers). Two round trips, Los Angeles to San Diego, allow you to spend 8 hours in San Diego or make a round trip from San Diego to Fullerton (or Los Angeles) with time for lunch.
Train 1564 Departs Los Angeles 6:52 AM, Arrives San Diego 9:48 AM
Train 1573 Departs San Diego 10:51 AM, Arrives Fullerton 1:07 pm, Los Angeles 1:46 PM
Train 580 Departs Los Angeles 2:58 PM, Fullerton 3:29 pm, Arrives San Diego 5:50 PM
Train 593 Departs San Diego 6:40 PM, Arrives Los Angeles 9:39 PM
This excursion is expected to sell out fast, so make your reservation today.
Amtrak has made it very difficult to run private railroad cars on short trips, so this is a rare opportunity to ride a classic railroad car at an affordable price. Schedules are subject to change, even cancelation by Amtrak. In this case, it's literally all about journey, the magnificent views of the coastline, the people you will meet on board, and supporting a worthy cause. No refunds after Jan 10, 2020 unless the trip is cancelled by Amtrak, in which case you will receive a full refund. Due to the limited number of passengers we are able to accommodate, sales via this website will have priority. No one else is authorized to sell tickets for this excursion.
Here are some photos of Pacific Railroad Society's Exc.# 555
Two Round Trips on the National Forum
Los Angeles to San Diego, Saturday June 15, 2019. Next trip January 25, 2020
Thanks everyone for sharing these photos of the National Forum with us.
Please consider supporting Pacific Railroad Society, Inc. with a generous donation. Pacific Railroad Society is a 501(c)(3) tax exempt educational foundation, run by an all volunteer crew. 100% of your donation will go to support the educational activities of the society.
PRS National Forum Donation
PRS General Donation
Check out these videos of past Pacific Railroad Society excursions using PRS's very own 61year old Pullman Sleeping Car, the National Forum
PRS Exc # 551 to San Luis Obispo
PRS Exc # 553 to San Diego
Pacific Railroad Society, Inc. is a non-profit 501(c)(3) social organization staffed by volunteers. The Society supports historic rail car preservation, railroad excursions, a railroad museum which preserves and displays railroad literature, photos, and a railroad resource library; railroad related education; social events; and publications. The public is welcome to participate in the Society's events, operations, and facilities. The Society is funded by memberships, donations, excursions, and fundraising activities.
Exc # 553 to San Diego
Exc # 552 to Perris & OERM
Exc # 550 Special Train to Bakersfield
What's New:
• PRS is now on Facebook (now over 1,600 likes) - Click here to go to Facebook - Pacific Railroad Society
• Now make Donations to your favorite PRS fund on-line via this web site under the Membership tab.
• Now accepting memberships and renewals on-line. Click Membership tab.
LET'S GET ON BOARD THE NATIONAL FORUM by MARTI ANN DRAPER, EXCURSION DIRECTOR As you all know, PRS owns several railroad cars. Many of you remember the high point of private car operation by PRS, which occurred in 1977 when we operated seven cars on a special train through Mexico. PRS was one of the founding members of AAPRCO, the American Association of Private Car Owners. I have always felt extremely proud that in spite of continual and increasing challenges, PRS has remained as one of the very few non-profit membership organizations which has maintained and operated its own cars. The standards for operating private cars have become more and more stringent, so that now PRS has only two cars which have the required modifications to be used in Amtrak service. In recent years, the always small number of PRS volunteers who have turned out to regularly work on our cars at Saunders Yard has dwindled to one or two a week. In face of this lack of support, enthusiasm of the Rolling Stock Committee is at its lowest ebb. We have one car, the National Forum , which we have continued to maintain in accordance with Amtrak's standards so it can be used on excursions. As your Excursion Director, I am eager to continue to use this historically important car on excursions so that we and younger generations can experience what it was like to ride in a typical sleeping car of the 1950's. This is not impossible; other private owners operate vintage cars, and right now Amtrak is willing to cooperate with them so it is still possible to have the experience of riding historic equipment on the high iron.
In light of this, the PRS Board has vested the Excursion Committee with the responsibility for keeping the National Forum running. This means that the Excursion Committee now has to rally those who agree that the National Forum should continue operating on Amtrak so that we can undertake necessary periodic maintenance and all of the various jobs which have to be done when a car goes on the road. PRS needs you! Whether you have a particular mechanical skill, don't mind doing a dirty job now and again, or would like to participate in some hands-on historic preservation, now is the time to make yourself known! We will be putting together work parties at Amtrak's facilities in Los Angeles during the next couple of months with the aim of operating the Forum again as soon as possible. Wonder what kinds of work are needed? Contact me at email@example.com or at (626) 570-0033 and I'll invite you down at a time that's convenient for you to be at the car. You don't have to commit to any regular schedule for your participation. We will work with you. I promise that after you have helped work on the car, when you are on the National Forum at speed in a real Amtrak train, you will experience a thrill that is like no other. People who work on the car will be afforded the chance to work on the excursions using the National Forum . Unlike most private car owners, you don't have to carry the whole burden of maintenance on your own shoulders. You can have complete pride of ownership and craftsmanship by working side by side with your fellow railfans. You can also involve your family and friends who are interested in historic passenger equipment. Contact me today !
Pacific Railroad Society, Inc.
210 W. Bonita Ave.
San Dimas, CA 91773
Phone: (909) 394-0616
Copyright 1997-2017 Pacific Railroad Society, Inc.
Webmaster: firstname.lastname@example.com
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Personal data collected: Cookie and Usage Data. Place of processing: USA. Find Google's privacy policy here.
This website makes use of cookies. Please see our privacy policy for details.


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I don't notice that we're travelling without security until we've reached our destination. The expensive looking sports car Christian helped me into at the hotel didn't feel out of place despite the fact it could only accommodate two. I guess I assumed our security team would follow us in the SUV, but when we make it to the venue for Daves' party, no one meets us at the entrance of the building.
"Where are Taylor and Woods?" I ask after we've stepped into the elevator and Christian has pressed the button for the rooftop bar.
"We don't need them," he says curtly. "You're with me."
I stare blankly back at him, unsure of how to react. This is the man who was so concerned about my safety that he'd assigned me a security detail for years without my knowledge. He hired three CPOs to be with me at all times just last year. Some of our worse fights have been over my disregard for their necessity…
And then I remember what he said to me last night.
I can protect you, Anastasia. Better than Sawyer. Better than anyone.
I hang my head, my worst fears confirmed. Nothing was resolved last night after all. We're not fine.
"Christian, I'm sorry about Luke," I tell him for the dozenth time. "I really do–"
"Stop," he interrupts me, keeping his eyes focused on the steadily rising number over the door. "Not here."
My breath catches, almost as if the chill is enough to freeze the air in my lungs. Nervously, I start to chew on my bottom lip, thinking about his promise back at the hotel. His darker, kinkier predilections have always excited me. Enticed me. Turned me into a carnal creature not only willing, but actually desperate to do anything and everything for his pleasure. For mine. But as I taste the energy flowing between us, I find that my excitement is overcome by something else.
"Christian…" I begin, but the moment his name crosses my lips, he's on me. I feel the wall of the elevator at my back in the same second his lips come crashing down on mine.
"Did you doubt him, Anastasia?" he snarls into my mouth. "When you let him take you away from my security team to confront people who could be our enemies, who could want to hurt you? Did you worry where Woods or Taylor were with him?"
The words are an accusation, but my body is too consumed with his touch to pay any mind to his vaguely threatening tone. He's planned it that way. He can play my body as adeptly as he plays the piano, and he uses that against me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip too harshly, and when I whimper, he soothes the bite away with a deep, soft kiss. His hands dig into me one second, then massage me the next. The juxtaposition of pain and warm pleasure create a reaction inside of me that I can't control. My senses are heightened, my skin more sensitive, and the muscles between my legs clench with sweet anticipation. He knows my body better than even I do, and I'm putty in his capable hands.
I take a shaky breath. "You can protect me, I know that."
"Good." Soft fingers trail up the side of my arm and tug lightly at the sleeve of my dress. "I'm very aware of what's under here and I want you to know that I'm thinking about it. I will be, all night. While you schmooze and mingle, I'm going to be standing by your side, holding your hand, and imaging what it's going to look like later when it's covered in my come."
Holy fuck.
The elevator pings and the car slows to a stop. Christian leaves one last, chaste kiss on my lips, then takes my hand as the doors pull open and leads me out into the cool June night, not even giving me a chance to catch my breath.
I press my lips together as we meld into the crowd and try to shake away the kinky, sex-tinged thoughts that seem to fully occupy my mind. It's difficult. My breasts are bare against my dress, so every slip of the soft fabric caresses my nipples, and the tightness of the straps wrapped around my body feels too much like bondage for me to forget.
Stay focused, Ana. You can do this.
The party is beautiful. There's just enough light to illuminate the trees against the outer perimeter and make navigating the crowd of tables and people manageable. The bar is busy, the music is good, and the city looks down on us from every direction. Daves is standing on a podium near the railing, delivering the speech I listened to him give at least fifty times over the last few days.
"There she is," I hear Scott whisper with relief. Christian and I turn in his direction and find him standing off to the far side with Carmen and a few people I don't recognize, but who I assume work in the New York office. I nod in their direction and as Daves' speech comes to a close, Christian leads me toward them.
"Carmen," I say, reaching out to shake her hand first. "Great party."
"Yeah, it didn't turn out so bad." She smiles back, then turns to Christian. "And you brought Grey. I didn't realize you were in town."
"Last minute trip," he replies. "You look great, Carmen. As always."
"Awh, flattery is not going to make me forget that you stole 'Sure Connections' right out from under me this week. That one stung, Christian."
"Business is business. You know that."
She sighs, but nods. "So I suppose now that you have connectivity under control, you'll be expanding your state project off the west coast?"
"Yes, but not with 'Sure Connections.' Their technology is slow and outdated. I plan on stripping it's resources and selling what I can."
"What? Sell it? You fought me for SC for six weeks, Christian!"
"And you told my wife that I asked you not to hire her. You had to know I wouldn't let that slide."
The indignace on Carmen's face vanishes, replaced by blank shock. Her mouth actually drops open and it takes her several seconds to recover. When she does, her back goes straight and her deep brown eyes turn black. It's a look I've seen before, the carefully controlled sense of power. The CEO. And it's mirrored on my husband's face right now.
"What do you want for it?" she asks.
Christian smiles. "You know what I want, Carmen."
"Not going to happen, Grey."
"Well…" He shrugs. "Enjoy your weak signal output." Carmen rolls her eyes and takes a drink from her flute of champagne, while I scramble for a way to erase the animosity building between them.
"Christian, have you met Scott?" I ask, grasping at straws. "He's my New York counterpart."
"Yes, I've heard," Christian says. Scott grins and takes his outstretched hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grey. Ana here has told me so much about you, I feel like we've already met." His gaze shifts to me. "You sure are a lucky man."
"Yes. I am." Christian takes a step closer to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and kisses my hair. To the casual observer, it might have been an innocent show of affection, but I know better. It's a claim, which may not fully resonate with Scott, but it does with me. And suddenly my mind is filled with the images he'd conjured back in the elevator. The same images he promised would be going through his mind all night. When I turn to look at him, I can see the promising glimmer in his eyes that tells me he's kept his word.
"I'm glad Ana was able to drag you out tonight," Scott continues, oblivious to our silent exchange. "I know how hard it is to get Emily out to these kinds of things. She thinks they're dull."
"It's a party for a book that's not even out yet," the woman standing on Scott's right says. "No one's even heard of The Black Rose before."
"But they will," Scott says, through clenched teeth. "Things have to be built before they blow up."
The woman shrugs and takes another sip of her drink, looking bored, while Scott takes a deep breath. I look between the two of them with confusion.
"I'm sorry. Do you work at GSP NY?"
"Oh, god no," Scott answers for her. "This my wife. Emily, this is Anastasia Grey. From Seattle."
"Wife," I repeat, hoping the word doesn't sound as shocked to everyone else as it does to me. She gives me a tight smile and holds out her hand.
"It's good to put a face to the name," she says. "Scott talks about you all the time."
"Does he?" Christian asks.
"Of course," Scott says. "Ana here has made quite the splash at Greenwich. You should be proud."
"Very proud. My wife is the most incredible woman I know." Christian turns to me and brushes my hair from my shoulder. His hand trails down my back, lower and lower… down to what's his. And with the slight, but noticeable, emphasis he put on the word 'wife', I can't help but think to myself that he might as well have just peed all over me for all his efforts to mark his territory.
"I'm going to get a drink," he says. "Thirsty?"
His hand begins tracing over my behind, and the fabric of my dress is just thin enough that I can tell the pattern isn't random. He's tracing letters. M-I-N-E. Over and over again.
I can't tell if it's a declaration, or a promise.
And I can't tell which of those possibilities it is that's making my knees feel weak.
"Yes," I croak, then clear my throat to hide my hoarse response. "Please."
He smiles. "Don't wander off."
I nod, but his eyes stay fixed on Scott as he walks away. Scott smiles back, though I'm not sure if he's trying to be friendly, or taunting him. Either way, he's biting off more than he can chew with Christian. I'm still trying to swallow what he's given me just tonight.
Christian. Swallow. Lingerie. Shit!
Focus, Ana!
I take a deep breath and turn to Carmen, who also watches my husband walk away, though with a different kind of interest.
"I'm sorry about that," I tell her. "If I had known that you two were… I wouldn't have brought him."
She smiles and lets out a small, patient laugh through her nose. "Don't worry about it, Ana. I knew who you were when I hired you, and despite the optics, Christian and I are actually old friends. He's ruthless, but so am I. And I know that what goes on between GEH and GC has nothing to do with your value at GSP. In fact, I wanted to offer you my congratulations. I saw your numbers for your branch's latest release. It's outstanding."
I smile. "Thank you. But I have to give the credit to my team. Jacki has worked extraordinarily hard on this project and I think we're seeing that reflected in sales."
"Well whatever you're doing, keep it up. We might just have to bring some Seattle to New York, right Scott?"
"Absolutely." He tips his glass in my direction and I immediately begin to analyze his tone and body language. Never before has he been able to accept Carmen offering me praise without some sign of bitterness or resentment, but this time… he actually seems genuine. Maybe our talk this afternoon was real. Maybe he really does want to move forward as partners. Maybe I was overreacting back in the office.
Except I can still feel the heat of Christian's MINE on my behind…
"Here, baby," Christian says, coming up behind me and offering me a flute of champagne. I take a sip and am surprised. Normally, the champagne at these kind of parties is watered down and dry, but I find that, in this case, I enjoy the crisp flavor as much as the feel of the bubbles tickling my tongue.
"Delicious. Thank you, my love."
"Of course." He pulls me close and lowers the volume of his voice so that only I can hear him. "If I were you, I'd drink that quickly and get another. You'll need it later."
"Will I?" I ask, but he doesn't return my playful tone. His eyes cloud over. "What?"
"Nothing." He turns me so that his back is to Carmen and Scott, and I'm shielded from their view by his body. "I was just thinking about holding this glass to your nipples and watching them harden through that dress."
He tilts the glass towards me, but I hold my fingers up to keep the cool glass away from the silk fabric over my breasts. "The scene isn't supposed to start until after we've left. You're not playing fair, Christian."
"I never do." He cocks his head to the side, and blatantly stares down at my chest as if he's mulling over a complicated decision. "Maybe instead I'd pour champagne over them and clean it away with my tongue…"
"Christian." Again, the muscles deep inside me clench, and his face breaks into a victorious smile.
"Look at that. It seems I don't need the glass after all."
I look down to see the outlines of my hardened nipples through the fabric of my dress, and groan. This damn bra!
"Fuck!" I hiss, and Christian takes my chin in his fingers.
"I don't want to stay long." I nod and drain the champagne still in my hand, but when I turn for the bathrooms, he stops me and hands me a small wooden box. "Take this with you."
"To the bathroom?"
"Yes." His voice is firm and even though I meant it when I told him the scene hadn't started yet, I react to the command as if we were already in our a room alone and he had me on my knees.
"Yes, Sir," I whisper back, then tuck the box into my purse and weave my way through the other guests to the bathroom.
I figure the best bet for my sensitivity problem is to just fill the openings in my bra with tissue paper to create a barrier between my nipples and dress, but the fabric is too thin for even a single layer of tissue to go unnoticed. The bathroom is empty besides me, a miracle for a party this size, so after several minutes deliberation, I do the only other thing I can think of, despite how humiliating it will be if someone walks in. I press the button on the hand dryer, and dip my breasts below the warm bursts of air.
By the grace of god, I get away with it.
Once I'm sure that the dress situation is under control and I'm not going to walk back out into a party filled with Gallagher Corporation execs looking like Jennifer Aniston in a season five episode of Friends, I pull the box from my bag and ease back the hinged lid.
Two silver balls connected by a small, black string lie on a bed of velvet and just the sight of them makes me wish I had a spare pair of panties.
The first time I wore these was on a jet ski in the middle of the sound, and they'd wound me up so tight, I practically dragged Christian to our bedroom to have my way with him. The second time was Paris…
My train of thought stops.
God, what I'd give to be in the place now that we were then. Before the lies. Before the hurt. Before I had to wonder what his intentions were when he got me alone. Truthfully, I shouldn't worry. I know that. He's never given me reason to worry before and he's not the one who's changed here. I have. I'm the one who got us here and I'm going to have to be the one to get us out.
With shaking fingers, I reach into the box and remove the balls. I shouldn't wear them. I'm already wound up so tightly I could explode, and I still have to get through the rest of this evening before he takes me back to the hotel and fucks me six ways from Sunday. But if we're going to move forward, he needs tonight. He needs to control me. And this is part of that.
I grip the balls tightly in my hand, and duck into the closest bathroom stall.
The party is in full swing when I emerge from the restroom. Daves corners me on my way back to Christian and asks to introduce me to several of his author friends, most of whom express to me over and over again their disbelief that Walter got the Anastasia Steele to represent his title. There are a few critics and journalists in attendance who ask about my next book, but I easily divert their questions back to The Black Rose. By the time I'm able to escape, Scott and Emily have already left, Christian and Carmen have retreated to a table near the bar, and the balls inside of me have done their job so well, I don't know that I'll make it back to the car, let alone our hotel room.
"I'm just surprised," Carmen says as I approach and pick up the extra glass next to my husband. "I didn't realize you were so passionate about clean energy."
"I'm passionate about innovation. This isn't just about clean energy, it's about unlimited energy. Accomplishing what was previously thought to be impossible."
"Oh I know your line, Christian. Your media blitzkrieg has made it all the way to New York. You're really putting in the hours to get people to buy into this stuff."
"That's my PR team. This project is so much more expensive than we anticipated and the only way I'm going to be able to continue funding it is if I'm able to get the Mayor and city council to sign off on significant tax breaks. To get that, I need public support."
"And a father in the Mayor's office."
"Ah, if only it were that easy."
Carmen laughs and takes another drink. "Well, I think it's a noble idea, but I also think you're an idiot."
She nods. "Don't you realize what will happen if you pull this off? Eliminating the need for combustible fuel will eliminate the need for the corporations who make that their business. The Saudis, Exxon, BP, Halliburton… You prepared to take them on too?"
"I'm not worried about oil companies."
"Don't let your confidence in the technology make you a fool, Christian. This won't be like stealing a tiny fiber optics company from me. These people will come for you, by any means necessary. Just a few years ago, there was a man named Howard Cook who used to run a company out of LA that focused on clean, renewable energy. He even got a patent approved by the USPTO. But right before he was able to start production, he was indicted for fraud and his company was torn apart and sold for pieces. Who do you think paid for the lawyers to investigate him?"
"Sinopec, 2011. And the technology his company patented was bought by Chinese oil barons, who have invested millions into keeping it buried. I know all about Howard Cook. He was clown and I won't repeat his mistakes."
"Alright, if you're sure. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh, believe me, Carmen. I'd never accuse you of not offering unsolicited advice." She laughs, and Christian empties his glass before turning to me. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," I practically beg. Carmen smiles as Christian places his hand on my lower back and, after a brief goodbye, he leads me back through the party towards the elevators. I do a quick scan of the crowd for Walter and find him laughing and toasting before a crowd of admirers. Our eyes meet and I'm able to give him a very proud smile before stepping into the elevator.
The moment the doors close, Christian's arms wrap around me from behind. "And now…" he says, his low, seductive voice trailing off as he leaves a trail of kisses down the slope of my neck. I hum my pleasure back to him, and push my body into his, relieved to finally be here. The soft touch of his lips and the heat of his breath on my windchilled skin make the ache between my legs unbearable. I no longer feel the chill of the night air, my body is flushed with heat.
"Christian," I say in a soft, needy breath.
"My love?"
"What were you and Carmen talking about?"
His lips don't stop as he replies, and his hands continue to move freely over my dress. "The fusion project."
"I know that. I meant, about people coming after you…"
"No one is coming after us, Anastasia."
"But that man, the one the oil companies came after?"
"They found proof he was overstating company profits and defrauding investors. That's not going to happen to me."
"Just because you haven't committed fraud doesn't mean they won't find another way to come after you."
"And I'll be ready." His hand slides up my stomach to cup my breast and my head lolls back on his shoulder as I'm flooded with endorphins.
"You'd tell me if there was anything to worry about, wouldn't you?"
He lets out a harsh sigh and his hands fall away from my body. I turn and watch him back into the wall and place his hands on the railing. The lust in his eyes has been extinguished, replaced now with irritation, and I don't understand why.
"I just want to know," I tell him. The elevator jolts as it stops on the bottom floor, and once the doors slide open, Christian pushes off the back wall to exit.
"Well there's nothing to know."
He stalks past me, leaving me to follow behind in his angry wake. He hands the ticket for our car to the valet and then leans against a pillar to check emails on his phone. He doesn't even so much as look at me the entire time we wait, and the car is silent after we've pulled through the drive and out into Manhattan traffic.
"I wasn't going to do anything," I say, staring at my hands. "If that's what you're worried about. I told you I was done with all the scheming and I meant it."
"You really think that's the part of this that's driving me crazy? You don't think I understand going to extremes to protect our family?"
I shake my head with dismay. "I told you I was sorry about Luke. I shouldn't have been sneaking around with him behind your back, and I wish I could take that back, but I wasn't unfaithful to you, Christian. You have to believe me…"
His jaw twitches. "Tell me he's nothing and all is forgiven."
"No it won't, because it would be a lie and you know it."
"Then pick up your skirt."
"Pick up your fucking skirt, Anastasia." His eyes flash to me, a menacing warning, and I hurry to reach down for the hem of my dress. My body slides down in the seat so I can lift the fabric up over my hips, leaving my barely there panties exposed.
He reaches down between my legs and presses on my clit through the lace. It moves the silver balls back and forth, and I clench. Another press, and I gasp. He repeats the motion over and over again until I'm soaking wet and ready to come, but just before I do, he hooks his fingers under my panties, reaches inside of me, and pulls the black string so that the balls slide out of me and into his hand.
The promising heat vanishes the second they're gone.
"Clean these," he says, dropping them into my lap. I look around for a napkin or handkerchief, but find nothing.
"With what?"
He looks over at me, and his eyes move down to my lips. I swallow and look down at the glistening silver spheres in my hand. He watches intently as I slide the first one into my mouth, tasting myself on the metal. I suck hard and swirl my tongue over the smooth surface, then do it again with the second one.
"Good girl," Christian praises me as I hand the balls back to him. He tucks them into the pocket on the inside of his tuxedo jacket, and I turn to look through the windows, hoping to see some landmark that will give me an idea how close we are to the hotel where I'll finally get the release that was just robbed from me.
"Wait… This isn't the way back to the hotel."
Christian shakes his head. "No, it isn't."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see." I frown and turn to look out the window at the passing buildings and side streets I've never seen before. We drive out of the business district, then the residential areas… Traffic soon thins out until it's almost non-existent. When we finally pull over and Christian takes the keys out of the ignition, the block we've ended up on is completely deserted. It's not the kind of place I would imagine Christian choosing as a destination. There are no restaurants, hotels, or bars. Not even a dive. Most of the businesses on the block seem to be boarded up, except a bail bondsman a few doors down from where we're parked, and a pawn shop across the street.
"Don't move," Christian tells me.
He climbs out of the car and I turn in my seat so I can watch him walk around to my side. When he opens my door, I take his hand and let him pull me out onto the sidewalk, but while his fingers stay entwined with mine, he doesn't move. I jump slightly at the sound of the car door slamming behind me, and the resulting echo up the deserted street, while Christian steps close to me, his body only just not touching mine.
"Mmm," he hums with contentment, sliding his hands over the sides of my neck and up into my hair. I can feel his heat wash over me when he leans down and presses his lips to mine with a warm affection that feels familiar and comforting in contrast to everything that's happened between us over the last twenty-four hours. I move my hands up over his arms to trace the lines of his biceps, which are stark and impressive under my fingertips even through his jacket. There's an undeniable, yet dormant strength to every line on his body. A tantalizing and sensual juxtaposition to the gentle touch of his hands and lips that bring goose bumps to the surface of my skin. "I love you, Anastasia."
"I love you too," I breathe back, entranced by the feel of his lips still brushing ever so lightly against mine. He smiles, then takes my hand again and tugs me towards the double doors directly behind us. There's lettering on the glass that's too peeled and faded for me to read, and the small entryway inside is flooded in florescent light that highlights the yellowing linoleum floors. We step through one more door that's heavier and closes with a loud clunk, then make our way to a desk on the other side of the room. There's a woman sitting there, seemingly so engrossed in whatever she's typing that she doesn't even look up as we approach.
"Good evening," Christian says.
Her eyes move up, but her fingers don't stop. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Odysseus." She nods and looks back down at her computer screen again, and while we wait, I find myself pondering Christian's response. Odysseus. The Greek king whose epic journey to get back to his love after being torn away by war is quite literally the stuff of legends. And Penelope, the wife who remained faithful to her king despite her many suitors. I'm not sure if the comparison is comforting or worrisome.
What is this place?
"Ah, here you are," the woman says, and instantly her cold, aloof demeanor vanishes. She smiles when she looks up at us and finally pulls her fingers away from her keyboard. "You'll just go down this hall, through the door at the end, and down the stairs. They'll take your key there."
"Thank you," Christian says, and again, he takes my hand and tugs me away. There's nothing in the hall he leads me down that offers any clues to where we're going, but I assume it's something big when we go through the door and find a hulking man waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.
"Key," he grunts. Christian reaches into his pocket, removes an intricate, golden skeleton key, and passes it to the man, who I can only assume is some kind of security or bouncer. He slides the key into the lock on the door, and turns it with a click. Christian moves me in front of him as he opens the door and I take a bracing breath before step inside.
The first thing that hits me is the music. It's low, but bass heavy. Not something I would associate with anything on the radio, which makes me think Christian hasn't brought me to a trendy nightclub. The room is fairly dark, illuminated only by different colored strobes and spotlights that seem to create just as many shadows as they eliminate. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I go numb.
I never saw the inside of Kink back in Seattle, but I've thought of it enough that my mind has created a whole picture for me. I'd imagined stone walls with wooden furniture meant to restrain a submissive rather than make her comfortable. I thought the room would be lined with devices for torture and pleasure I wouldn't be able to name. I believed that it would feel skeezy and predatory. The room before me, is none of that.
It could be an upscale lounge. The main floor is set up like a grid. Each seating area makes up a square about ten feet long by ten feet wide, and the smooth, black leather sofas they contain are recessed into the ground. The white stone walkways between each section reflect the lights moving over them well, adding color and a sense of whimsy to the overall ultra modern design. There's a bar at the back that is illuminated so that it glows like ice. Nothing here seems vastly different from the club I was in the night before, except the people.
Everyone here is in various states of undress. Full suits, pleather bodysuits, lingerie, and several women who are completely nude. In many of the booths, there are people actively having sex while their neighbors carry on conversations over martini's as if they've simply found themselves here with friends after a long day of work and there's nothing out of the ordinary going on around them at all. There's one particularly intense orgy taking place off to our right, but when I look away my eyes fall on another couple performing something I imagine to be very painful in front of two enraptured audience members.
"Don't stare," Christian whispers into my ear. "Watching is participation and only those who have been invited are allowed to participate."
"How do you know about this place?"
"You think you're the only one with Gresham's phone number?"
I shake my head, grateful to know he didn't come here with Elena. "No, I guess not. But, you're not going to… not in front of all these people. Are you?"
"Voyeurism is not my thing, Anastasia. What is under this dress is mine, and mine alone."
"So, what are we doing here?"
"There are private rooms in the back."
"Good evening." We turn and find a woman in a tight black dress smiling at us. Her makeup is overdone, but in a beautiful way. With her black hair piled on top of her head and her exaggerated black eyeliner, she looks like she's just walked off a photo shoot for a pinup calendar. "Welcome to Sadique. Your room is ready, if you'll follow me."
Christian nods, then leans in as the woman turns to lead us past the bar. "Walk behind me."
I take a step back and fall in place a pace behind him. There's so much to look at all around me, but I force myself to stare at Christian, or down at our intertwined hands. A hundred questions bounce around my mind as we're led down a dim hallway lined with doors in the same way as a hotel, but only one seems to stick.
What is he going to do?
"Alright, before you go in, I just have to get a statement of consent from both of you," our guide tells us. "Do you acknowledge that anything that takes place in this room is fully consensual and that you haven't been coerced into coming here tonight against your will?"
"Yes," Christian says first.
"Yes," I repeat.
"Good. Then I'll leave this with you." She hands Christian a key that's similar to the one he used to gain entry to the club before. "If you need anything, just press the green button by the door and one of our staff members will assist you. Play safe, you two."
She smiles as she moves past us, but Christian doesn't wait for the clacking sounds of her heels to disappear up the hallway before he reaches down to unlock the door.
"Ready?" he asks, hand on the knob. I nod through my mounting nerves and hold my breath when he pushes the door open and steps to the side to let me pass.
This room is everything I imagined Kink to be. The walls are deep red instead of stone, but all the tools are in place. The room smells of fresh leather, so I assume everything here is new, but that also means that everything here is at Christian's disposal. The belts. The whips. The rack of canes. There are metal instruments with sharp edges and clamps that make me cringe with pain just looking at them. Will he use those?
"Make yourself comfortable," Christian says, walking past me. "There's a bathroom there if you need it."
"Are you going to punish me?" I ask, and he stops. He turns back to face me, but his expression is unreadable.
"Yes," he says at last.
I start to chew my bottom lip. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Do you think that's something I would do?"
"I hope not." The words seem to tremble as they cross my lips, but they have no effect on softening Christian's expression. If anything, he turns colder. His eyes darken and his body grows stiff. Nervously, I suck my bottom lip beneath my teeth and look at the ground, wondering if my hasty confession will expedite the punishment he's brought me here to deliver. When he steps towards me, I even jump slightly, but he doesn't put his hands on me. He moves past me, fishes out the key again, and locks the door. With a sigh of relief, I turn my eyes back to the ground.
And that's when I feel his touch.
The long fingers of his hand wrap around my arm and yank me back. I gasp as I fall into the door, expecting pain that never really manifests, then cower under him as he pins me to the wall. He grabs onto my jaw and tilts my head up so that I'm forced to look at him, and I see fire burning behind his eyes.
"This is why we're here," he growls. "Because you think there is even a possibility think I would hurt you. Because you must believe there is anything in this world that you could think or feel that I wouldn't understand or that I would despise you for. Because it seems to me that no matter what I say or what I do, you still don't trust me. You don't communicate with me. And that's not going to fly in here." I nod, though it's difficult with his hand still on my face. He must feel that, because in that same instant, his fingers relax, his hand falls to his side, and leans down to press his forehead against mine. "You were unfaithful to me, Anastasia. Not with your body, but with your soul. You gave another man your truth and your fears, and that's not something I can easily forgive. So, tonight, you're going to submit to me. You're going to place your trust in me, and you're going to make me believe it. I'm not going to ask you not to look at me and I'm not going to ask you to stay silent. I want to hear you. I want you to talk to me, even if you think I'm not going to like what you have to say. And I want that from this moment forward."
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, do you think I'm going to hurt you?"
"No, Sir."
"Good. I don't want to give you pain or humiliation, Anastasia. I want what I always want. Control."
"I can do that." I take a deep breath in. "Whatever you want, whatever I can give you, it's yours. Just take it."
"Tell me your safeword."
I swallow my last bit of trepidation and fortify myself with the love I've made him doubt. With the love I know he feels for me, despite the hurt I've caused him. "Red."
"Good. Now, don't move."
He turns away from me and walks to the center of the room. I take him at his word and don't force myself to look down at the floor. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on him as he brushes the tips of his fingers over a leather covered chair, then the ropes and restraints hanging on the walls. He considers each item he comes across carefully, often testing whichever thing has caught his eye before carefully securing it back to its place on the wall. In a way, I'm given a tour of the room myself, through his exploration of the implements he has available to him.
After testing the integrity of a piece of furniture that looks a little like a wrought iron chain link fence standing up against the wall with just enough padding to make being secured with the leather cuffs in each of the four corners bearable, he decides he's seen enough and he returns to the leather chair. His eyes stay on mine as he sits down and slowly unravels his bow tie, and once he's relaxed, he places his hands on either arm rest and settles back until he's comfortable.
"Lose the dress," he says. I reach back and start fumbling with the zipper, which makes me feel clumsy. But once I finally get it down enough that I no longer have to struggle to reach it, I remember the scene and try to reveal the rest of my body in a much more seductive manner. He doesn't look pleased.
"I didn't ask for a floor show. Show me what's mine, Anastasia."
Instantly, my fingers release their hold on the fabric and the dress falls to the floor in a pool of gray. Again, I feel somehow more than naked. The way the lingerie leaves so much of my skin exposed has me hyper aware of my body, and as I feel Christian's gaze move over me, I feel like I'm the physical embodiment of sex. When his eyes heat with his desire, mine pools down between my legs.
I step forward, shaking away the material that clings to my heels and wait for my next command. He lifts a finger and silently twirls it through the air, a signal for me to turn and give him the full view. I do, and once my back is to him, he gets up and presses his chest into my mostly naked back until I'm pushed flush against the door, then swings his hand up to smack me hard on the behind. I hiss at the sound.
"You're too beautiful for your own goddamn good," he whispers into my ear. I moan as his fingers begin to knead my flesh. "Do you know that I still fantasize about you? All the fucking time. It doesn't matter how recently I've had you, or for how long. There comes a time, at least once a day, where I'll be sitting in my office at GEH and the only thing I can think about is this." His hands tighten on my ass again, and a small gasp of pleasure escapes my lips as his fingers pull me apart. "The way it looks when it's pinked from my hand. Or when I have you bent over, spread open, and I can see my cock moving in and out of you." He hisses as he takes a sharp intake of breath, and moves his fingers up the back of my arms to my shoulders. "You drive me fucking wild, Anastasia."
"I feel the same for you," I manage to breathe back. He groans and then pulls my head to the side with a sharp yank of my hair. I whimper with pain, but it's quickly soothed away by his lips and tongue on the sensitive skin of my neck. I feel him nip me. I feel him suck. His mouth is so insistent that I'm sure he'll leave me marked, but I can't find it in myself to care. I'm too lost in the sensation of his erection grinding into my behind through his pants, and the texture of the door rubbing against my oversensitive nipples every time I squirm.
"Oh god, Christian," I pant. His bites me right at the epicenter between my shoulder and neck, and then drags the tip of his nose all the way up to my ear, where he starts to suckle at my earlobe.
"Are you wet for me, baby?"
"Mhm." The muffled sound barely makes it through my trembling lips, but he smiles all the same.
"Why don't we check on that?"
He pushes more of his weight into me so that he can keep me pinned to the door without his hands and kicks the inside of each of my feet to get me to spread my legs. His thighs hold mine open as he reaches down, but when his fingers touch the miniscule scrap of lace that makes up my panties, he clicks his tongue in disapproval.
"This won't do." I'm jolted slightly as he hooks his finger beneath my thong and tugs, pulling my ass away from the door. I put my hands up to support myself in the new awkward position, while he grips onto the elastic that holds the lace together and then pushes his thumbs through the delicate fabric. Once it gives, he tears it all the way up the middle. My vagina is still framed by the tattered remains, but there's nothing left to cover me. I'm exposed, open, and at his mercy.
One long finger drags up and down my lips, spreading my arousal up to my clit and back down again. Over and over, until my legs start to shake.
"Soaked," he says. "God, I love the way you're always ready for me."
"Take me, Sir. Fuck me as hard as you can."
My plea is met with a harsh slap across my ass, different from before. Harder. I clench with unexpected pain. "Ah!"
"That sounded an awful lot like a demand."
His hand disappears from between my legs and once again tangles in my hair. However, this time, he doesn't move my head to the side to give him easier access to my throat. He pushes me down onto my knees with bruising force.
"Open your mouth," he commands. I take a second to regain my bearings, then do as he says. With one demanding thrust, he pushes his cock past my lips and my throat tightens at the unexpected invasion. I choke, and he starts to massage my scalp.
"Relax, Anastasia. Breathe through your nose." I do, but my throat relaxing only enables him to push further inside. His hands act like anchors on the back of my head as he fucks my face, pushing me into him with the same force he uses to take me. My eyes start to water and mascara stained tears start leaking down my cheeks. I begin to drool. The sounds I make around him aren't sexy and breathy, they're wet and guttural. None of it dissuades him, and my arousal begins to pour out of me until the insides of my thighs are as slick as my inner lips.
"Oh, fuck!" he shouts, his deep timber reverberating with pleasure. "That's it, Ana. Just like that. Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Just as quickly as he filled my mouth, he disappears. I fall forward onto my hands, sputtering and coughing, sucking in long pulls of air so I can catch my breath.
"Look at that," he groans. I look up to see him slowly stroking his erection, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's not for pleasure. The base of his cock is smeared with my lip color, and he's spreading it up and down his shaft. "So fucking hot."
His cock jumps in his hand and my mouth starts to water. I'm filled with such anticipation, such need, that I'm trembling on the floor. I want to leap at him, just like I did that day on the yacht. I want to get the lapels of his tuxedo jacket in my fist and push him back onto the bed on the other side of the room. I want to take what I want from him until I'm sated and satisfied. Waiting for him to do it for me is nearly torture.
"On your feet," he says. I scramble up off my knees as quickly as I can, then take his outstretched hand. He leads me to a kind of bench that is separated into two halves. The padded top of one half is only a few inches off the ground, the other, a foot or so above that. Following Christian's instructions, I kneel down on the lower half, then bend over the top.
"Fuck," he breathes, dragging his hand softly down my back until he grips my ass. "The things I want to do to you…"
I want to tell him that he can do as he pleases. That I want him to use me the way he has in his fantasies. That I want to please him. But I don't, because it would be redundant. He knows he's in control. He knows I'm at his mercy. And the sting from the castigation I received the last time my pleas were taken as demands is enough to keep me silent.
"Don't move," he says, then he disappears out of my peripheral. Moments later, he returns with a bundle of natural fiber rope that scratches against the skin on my wrists as he fastens them to the legs of the bench. Next, he picks up a heavy metal bar with leather cuffs on either end, winds the buckles around each of my ankles, and then elongages the bar with a strong yank, pulling my legs so far apart, I can feel the stretch in my thighs.
"Too far?" he checks when I whimper.
"No, Sir."
He paces around me for a moment, examining me, circling me like a shark closing in on his prey. I'm so tight with need, my insides start to ache. The energy pouring off of him as he drinks me in stokes the heat growing unbearably hot inside my belly. And when he finally falls to his knees behind me, I nearly cry with relief at his touch.
His hands slide up the backs of my thighs and dig into the flesh on my behind. He spreads me open, putting me fully on display, before he leans down and kisses my clit.
I scream.
"Easy, baby. We're just getting started."
"I need you," I whine. "So bad."
"All in good time. Relax." He kisses me again, gently at first, but the more of my arousal he tastes, the more ravenous he becomes. Like he's in a frenzy. It's good that he told me he wouldn't ask for my silence, because I wouldn't hear his reminders or warnings over the loud, incoherent cries that rip their way from my chest.
"God, the way you taste, baby," he says in a voice as rough as sandpaper. "So fucking sweet."
"Mmm," I whimper. "Don't stop."
"You like the way I eat you? The way my tongue feels inside you? Swirling around your clit?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Yeah? How about this?" He licks all the way up until he's moved past my perineum and his tongue begins dancing around the entrance to my ass. It's a surprise and my immediate reaction is to get away from him. I try to squirm, but the rough fibers of the rope around my wrists cut into my skin when I struggle, and his hands on my hips are more restraint than the bar between my ankles. He pulls back and spits on me, then uses his tongue to work the added moisture through my tightly bunched muscles. It's taboo, and erotic, and filthy, and incredible. And when his thumb starts playing with my clitoris while he tongue fucks my ass, the room around me starts to spin until it dissolves completely into a sex crazed fog.
"Christian, wait," I pant, thrusting my hips hard into the bench to gain some distance from his insistent, wonderful, intrusive tongue.
"Wait?" He sits back, but his tongue is immediately replaced by a finger that sinks deep inside of me. I clench again, and the added tightness makes even that one finger feel impossibly large. "Do you need to say something?"
My safeword. He's asking for my safeword.
"I don't want you to stop… I just, your tongue and my–" My entire body grows hot and I assume grows flush with embarrassment, and he responds by pushing his finger deeper inside of me.
"This is mine, just as much as any other part of you, Anastasia. Mine to spank. Mine to taste. And mine to fuck." He starts to work another finger inside of me, and I let out a high pitched whine. "True or false, Anastasia?"
"Is. This. Mine?" His fingers push and pull in and out of me with each word. I struggle to breathe through the rapidly blooming pleasure. Words fail me. Rational thought seems to all but disappear. I'm lost to sensation, until his fingers vanish and he hits me hard across the ass once more. "Answer me."
"Yes. It's yours."
"You're mine," he corrects me, and his fingers are once again replaced by his tongue.
Unable to deny him without denying myself, I surrender to the invasion and find that, once I let go of my unfounded embarrassment and trepidation, I actually enjoy the feeling of his tongue ravishing my most forbidden erogenous zone. More than enjoy… the feeling is mind boggling. Pure, uninhibited hedonism that erases expectations and judgements and lets me bask in euphoric delirium. And when I realize he's going to make me come, I find myself pushing back onto that perfect and oh so talented tongue.
"That's right, baby." He pulls away but continues to play with my pleated bunch of muscles, using my slick arousal to heighten the feeling. I start to build. Each pass of his thumb feels as though it turns up the temperature of my body until I'm burning, ready to explode into an all consuming orgasm. I'm close. So close…
And then his hand disappears.
"No! No, don't stop!"
"Shh." He turns away, fumbling with something I can't see, and my orgasm dissipates. It leaves an ache throbbing between my thighs that I can't ignore. My second denial of the night and every cell in my body begs for release. I can't even close my legs and let friction do the work.
"Christian. Sir. Master. Please…"
"This is going to be cold," he replies. My brow furrows, but that's quickly wiped away by shock as Christian drips an icy liquid over my ass. Lubricant, I soon discover, as the chill vanishes with the friction of his fingers. "Take a deep breath for me, baby."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to put a plug in you. It will be uncomfortable at first, but you'll adjust. If you don't relax, it will hurt."
I take a deep breath and nod. "Yes, Sir."
He presses the tip of something hard against my entrance and slowly works it forward. It's easy to take at first, but soon it starts to stretch. Wider and wider, until the pleasure is overwhelmed with pain.
"Wait, wait, wait," I beg, and he stops. His free hand begins to toy with my clitoris again and a finger dips inside of me until my muscles relax and the pain disappears.
"Almost, baby," he whispers, and slowly, he begins to ease the plug the rest of the way in. When he leans down to kiss me, there's a look of pride on his face. "This is going to be hard, Anastasia. And fast."
I nod, and he moves behind me. His hands are rough and rude as he pulls me apart to make room for his erection, and he slams inside of me in one fluid thrust. The combination of him and the plug has me feeling overwhelmingly full, and his brutal, relentless rhythm threatens to turn me inside out.
"Oh, fuck!" I scream. His hand wraps around my hair and he pushes my face down into the padding on the bench, pressing down, holding me in place, as he ravishes me.
"Take it, Anastasia. Take all of it."
He's like a wild animal in the way he moves. The sounds he makes are raw and savage with his need, and his hands hold me so tightly I wonder if he's hoping he'll leave marks. It's real control. Ownership. And all of that has me completely unravelling. Panting, moaning, screaming his name. For a punishment, he seems to be giving me everything I wanted leaving the party tonight.
"Oh god," I scream. "Don't stop, Christian. I'm going to come…"
"Oh, baby. You think I'm going to let you come?" I can't register his response. I'm too lost in the urgency of my impending orgasm. But for the third time tonight, just as I'm about to fall over the edge of ecstasy, he stops and leaves me wanting.
"Fuck. No…"
"It's amazing how fast you lose it, isn't it? Five or ten seconds with no stimulation…" He leans down and claims my mouth in a slow, deep kiss that fans the flames of my desire for him, but does nothing to rescue the orgasm slipping through my fingers. By the time his lips pull away, I've lost it.
"Why?" I mewl.
"I told you I was going to punish you. You should know by now that I'm a man of my word."
My protest is cut off as he slams inside of me again and picks up his relentless pace. He pounds into me like he's trying to fuck the life out of me. And as if his assault wasn't enough to bring me right back to the edge, he whispers and moans everything he's feeling into my ear with each and every thrust. How tight I am, swollen from his repeated onslaught and denial. How much he loves looking at me, sweating and needy beneath him. How it drives him crazy hearing me scream his name. How I make him feel. How beautiful I am. How much he loves me. He builds me up over and over again only to deny me. And it goes on forever. I start to lose track of how many orgasms I've lost, and each time one falls out of my reach, the pain of its absence becomes more intense.
I came into this room fearing the items on the walls. But any torture they could inflict is nothing to this.
"Please," I sob, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Please, Christian, let me come. I can't take it…"
"Do you need to say something to me?" He pulls out of me to give me the chance to safeword, but I'm too distracted by the sight of his erection in his fist to consider it. His cock is bigger than I've ever seen it. The tip is so swollen from his own need for release that it's nearly purple. My mouth waters at the sight of it, my body screams in need. I don't want to safeword, because I don't want him to stop. I want him to finish. I want him to finish me.
"Please, Christian. I'm sorry. I'll tell you a thousand times that I'm sorry, but please! I can't take it anymore. I can't."
"Yes you can."
"Please… I don't want to say it. It's my word, Christian. But if I have to use it when I don't want to, then it's not my word anymore, and I need that word. Please, don't force me to say it."
For the first time, I see a crack in his otherwise perfectly stoic demeanor.
"Fuck." His jaw tightens as he battles with the dominant determined to punish me for my indiscretions, and the husband who has only ever wanted to give me the world. His hand comes down on my back, his fingers dig into my skin, and slowly, he pushes inside of me once more.
"Tell me he's nothing," he says through clenched teeth.
My eyes screw closed and my fingers tighten around the bench. I'm at a loss. I know what he wants from me, but I can't give it to him.
"He'll never be you, Christian. I'll only ever love you."
He growls and then lowers his body down over the top of mine. His fingers work on the knots at my wrists and the buckles on my ankles, until I'm completely free of his restraints. Then he flips me over on my back, picks up his rhythm, and kisses me again. I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him as close to me as is physically possible, and when I'm finally hit with the hurricane force of my orgasm, he pulls the plug out of me and forces me to reevaluate my personal definition of earth shattering pleasure. I scream his name over and over again until he too finds his release.
We come down panting, covered in sweat. My body is sore and weak. I feel drained. But only a minute or so after we've had the chance to catch our breaths, Christian gets up and reaches out for my hand.
"There's a shower. Let me get you cleaned up."
I nod sleepily, but let me help me to my feet. He half carries me as we make our way into the private bathroom, and sets me on the counter as he turns on the shower. He comes back to me and takes my mouth in a deep, all consuming kiss that lasts long after the room has filled with steam. Even when he lifts me into his arms and carries me into the shower, our lips never part.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into his mouth.
"I know."
The hot water burns against my sensitive skin, but I tolerate it because standing beneath the cascade means I'm standing in Christian's arms. With a sense of care and gentility absent from the rest of this evening, he takes the soap and begins to clean my body. His hands soothe the sting from my raw behind. His fingers massage my shoulders and neck until I'm free of tension. He washes my hair, and holds me tightly against my body while I dip my head under the water to rinse away the suds.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine. Are you?"
He swallows, and backs me up into the shower wall. I can feel a plea in his lips as he kisses me again, and the desperate yearning in the way his tongue caresses mine. "When I got on my plane yesterday morning, I really believed you were leaving me," he says at last.
"That's not a possibility. You're never going to lose me, Christian. Not ever."
"I want to believe that, Anastasia. But this weekend has frightened me in a way that I haven't been frightened in a very long time. Not since I brought you to this city four years ago. I feel like you've forgotten everything we've been through together. Everything we've promised each other. Every time I've vowed to love and cherish you, no matter. How could you possibly think I wouldn't understand what you were going through?"
"I don't know. I guess I just spent so much time just trying to forget, that I ended up forgetting all the wrong things."
He rests his forehead against mine and nuzzles the tip of my nose with his. "I'll never let you forget again. Perhaps I haven't been what you've needed these past few months. But that will never happen again. I'm here for you. Always. And I love you, more than my own life."
"I love you too, Christian. So much."
"Do not betray me again."
"Never." He lets out a long breath, then lifts my left hand and places a gentle kiss on my wedding band. My throat constricts and my heart beats heavily in my chest until he reaches down to turn off the water. When he looks at me again, there's new resolve in his eyes.
"I forgive you."
"Thank you." I push off the wall and into his arms, wrapping my own around him as tightly as I can. His lips press into my wet hair and then he lifts me out of the shower. We gather our things and leave the room hand in hand, leaving the hurt and betrayal behind us. By the time he's buckled me back into the car, I can't keep my eyes open any longer.
I fall asleep with his hand in mine.


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Evidence-based investing does away with emotive decision making and focus on robust risk management, says Danielle Levy.
Selling out of poorly performing investments during a market sell-off is one of the most common mistakes investors make. It may feel like a logical move once fear and panic have set in, but in reality it can prove to be the worst possible time to sell, because you end up crystallising losses at the bottom of the market.
In order to avoid this type of scenario, a new breed of investor is aiming to remove the behavioural biases that lie behind these decisions. The idea is to invest in line with principles supported by robust, repeatable academic studies that are peerreviewed and underpinned by decades of data. These 'evidence-based investors' typically hold a diversified portfolio of assets for a long time and remain invested through the good times and the bad.
While disciplines such as medicine and engineering are supported by bodies of evidence, Craig Burgess, managing director of EBI Portfolios, suggests this has not historically been the case in investment management.
His company manages evidence-based portfolios on behalf of financial advisers. 'For some reason, when we come to investing, gut instinct and great stories seem to prevail in a way they really shouldn't,' he says.
- Hardy perennials – ten years on from the financial crisis we reveal the investment winners and losers
Peter Sleep, a senior investment manager at Seven Investment Management, agrees. In contrast, he says, evidence-based investing (EBI) is underpinned by a discipline, which seeks to minimise behavioural biases. 'It takes away emotional aspects. We are all emotional people. I have never met an investor who doesn't think they can outperform, when in reality very few of us can because we are guided by our emotions, which make us buy at the top and sell at the bottom,' he says.
How to create your own evidence-based portfolio
Firstly, reject the notion that you can outsmart the markets and need to constantly tinker with your investments to boost returns. Indeed, the primary focus is on risk rather than return, so this dictates how the portfolio is set up. That focus on risk is crucial: allocating a client the wrong risk profile could mean they panic and sell as the market falls.
'You have a decision to make at the beginning about what risks you are prepared to take and what volatility you are prepared to have in your portfolio,' explains Mark Northway, investment manager at EBI firm Sparrows Capital. 'This is about two things: first, your financial position and financial capacity, and secondly, your psyche or psychological make-up.'
Each risk profile has an optimum asset allocation based on evidence, and that portfolio has historically produced a certain long-term return, he continues. 'Investors tend to say: "I need to generate a 5 per cent return", but we say, don't tell us what you expect – we'll tell you what the best portfolio for your risk profile will generate over the long term. If that won't fit your objectives, you'll have to take more risk than you may feel comfortable with, or adjust your expectations.
'For each risk profile, target allocations are set for various asset classes and adhered to by rebalancing the portfolio periodically – something known as 'strategic asset allocation'. It hails from the work of academics Roger G. Ibbotson and Paul D. Kaplan, who concluded that strategic asset allocation can explain around 90 per cent of the variability of a fund's returns over time.
Evidence-based investors agree on the importance of establishing the underlying investor's risk profile and capacity for loss at the outset and then reflecting it in the strategic long-term asset allocation. However, the execution of this strategy and preferences for an underlying investment vehicle differ from firm to firm.
Numerous investment-focused academic studies question whether active managers have the skill to consistently add value through their stock selection or market timing. 'If the market has made 20 per cent over a given period of time and a fund manager has made 25 per cent, they can be seen as a superb fund manager. But it is very challenging to work out whether it is skill or luck,' says Burgess.
Active managers can miss out
Moreover, adds Northway, 'active managers tend to de-risk in crises; they are receiving fees to protect clients' wealth, so they tend to take risk off the table when there's a downturn – and then they miss the market recovery.'
For 'purist' evidence-based investors the idea is therefore to get rid of the role of skill in portfolio management, making investment an objective process –and then to stay invested as cheaply as possible. Many therefore focus on passive investments such as exchange traded funds (ETFs) and index funds, which take manager skill out of the equation.
Sparrows Capital takes a 'core-satellite' approach, whereby 70 to 80 per cent of the portfolio is allocated to ETFs and index funds. This provides low-cost efficient exposure to mainstream asset classes such as shares and bonds. The firm advises allocating the remainder to active funds, in order to gain exposure to alternative or specialist investments such as infrastructure, which can be harder to track via passives. 'I think the argument about active versus passive has moved on a bit. The question is, what is the role in your portfolio for active and passive?' Northway explains.
Sparrows Capital's next objective is to harvest returns from the market as efficiently as possible. This may involve the use of investment strategies favouring specific factors. 'Academics have identified that certain risks tend to get over-rewarded over the long term, relative to others. It is not just that they earn a higher return, but that these risks have a higher risk-reward profile,' says Northway.
-Nick Train: The bull market is here to stay
Thus, studies show that over time smaller companies perform better than large companies. Likewise, unloved businesses that are undergoing change and trade at low price-to-book ratios tend to perform better than higher-rated growth stocks. Academic research also demonstrates that lower volatility stocks have a better risk-reward profile than the market in general. Another factor is momentum (the process of following the most popular shares as they are buoyed by demand), which investors can gain access to through dedicated funds from Vanguard and iShares.
These factors can also be accessed via 'smart beta' investment strategies, whichdo not simply follow market cap-weighted indices but instead introduce certain tilts and biases to track securities that meet particular criteria. Evidence-based investors may look to blend several of these factors.
Andrew Wilson, who is head of the private investment office at Lockhart Capital Management, takes an EBI approach, but is agnostic about whether the underlying funds are active or passive. 'We just try to find the most efficient option for any particular market,' he comments.
At the current point in the cycle, he says active managers may have the edge over ETFs and index funds in certain markets. 'If one assumes we are nearer the end than the start of the bull market, passive is not going to help enormously. Some active managers will also underperform on the way down, but passive definitely won't help you very much,' he adds.
Rebalancing the portfolio through a falling market is another strategy that can pay dividends over the long term, because it forces you to buy securities when their valuations are lower – something you may not have been brave enough to do under your own steam.
For investors who are looking to set up their own evidence-based portfolios, there are three options. The first is to do your own research and formulate an approach that is clear, robust and repeatable.
Core to this is understanding what is known as the 'efficient frontier'. This outlines the best possible return you can expect from a portfolio, given the level of risk you are willing to accept; costs will of course be a consideration. You also need to make a decision about the type of fund you are comfortable holding: for example, ETFs, index funds, smart beta or actively managed funds.
Once you are happy with your strategic asset allocation, leave it alone except for periodic rebalancing. To help with this, Wilson suggests creating a rule for how often you rebalance (for instance, annually), and sticking to it.
For those who wish to enlist the help of a professional, the second option is to use an evidence-based multi-asset fund investing in ETFs or index funds, which sets out a strategic asset allocation for you. For example, Vanguard's LifeStrategy funds are baskets of index funds, effectively managed by a computer. Each holds a different proportion of shares, ranging from 20 to 100 per cent, with the remainder in bonds and cash. The funds have an ongoing charge of 0.22 per cent. BlackRock meanwhile offers the LifePath Index fund range.
The third path is to appoint an investment manager or financial adviser who employs an evidence-based approach. This is likely to involve higher costs than option two.
Staying calm when markets tumble is likely to represent the biggest challenge that any evidencebased investor will face. Here, Wilson advises sticking with your process and riding that rollercoaster. 'The trick is to not get shaken on a sensible strategy when the going gets tough. Remember you are investing for the long term, and the strategy will look after itself if you can systematically rebalance it and have a good spread of investments,' he concludes.
Evidence-based investing- how it can work in practice
Sparrows Capital builds each portfolio according to the client's personal objectives and circumstances. As a starting point, it follows strategic asset allocation models corresponding to each risk profile. It then selects appropriate indices for each asset class, avoiding parts of the market that are less liquid (more difficult to trade).
ETFs are selected based on criteria such as liquidity, assets under management, structure, tracking error (which indicates how closely a portfolio follows the index), cost and sponsor. For factor-based portfolios, the team uses ETFs rather than smart beta funds. They identify factor indices with appropriate methodologies and allocate to these on an equal weight or risk basis.
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The best bad movie podcast, with Nick Nobel and Chris Dobson. Episodes released every other Thursday.
Jul 11, 2012
John Travolta stars in this epic sci-fi flop inspired by the
psychology-hating 1,000 page novel of the same name. Chris and Nick
discuss the awful cinematography, hammy acting, Razzie's
mediocrity, and why John Travolta is the worst.
Bad movie podcast dedicated to the most enjoyable genre, exploitation, low-budget, and cheesy films. From Cool World to Cool Dog, Ready to Rumble to Robot Jox, and LXG to LOL, Your Stupid Minds appreciates all varieties of schlock. Updates every other Thursday.
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Stephen Joseph Theatre Significant Dates: OctoberA month-by-month guide to significant events and dates at the Stephen Joseph Theatre from 1955 to the present day.
1 October: The Stephen Joseph Theatre marked the centenary of the birth of Charles Laughton on 1 October 1999 with a production of Harold Brighouse's play Hobson's Choice. Laughton was born in Scarborough, just yards from the SJT in what is now the Victoria Hotel. Hobson's Choice was one of Laughton's most famous film roles and hence chosen for the anniversary production. Although Laughton had no direct connection to the Stephen Joseph Theatre, there are two indirect links. Firstly, his brother, Tom, was a keen supporter of the theatre and chairman of Scarborough Theatre Trust for several years and, secondly, Laughton was a special guest at the opening night of Scarborough's Odeon cinema in 1936 which was later converted into the Stephen Joseph Theatre.
2 October: One of the most technically ambitious productions ever staged by the company opened on 2 October 1981 with Alan Ayckbourn's Way Upstream. The play required the entire stage at the Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round to be flooded to represent a canal with a cabin cruiser on it. The boat had to be able to move and create numerous effects and the play also required a thunderstorm and downpour during the course of the action. Despite having less than six weeks to put the production together, the play was a huge success and had few notable technical issues. Unfortunately, when the play was produced by the National Theatre in 1982 - and despite all the theatre's resources, staff and finances - it was plagued by serious technical difficulties. The SJT revived the play in 2003 with an even more ambitious production, which again suffered no major technical difficulties.
3 October: One of the many fund-raising events organised for the £5.2m conversion of Scarborough's former Odeon cinema into the new Stephen Joseph Theatre was a concert by the late comedienne Victoria Wood. This took place on 3 October 1994 and saw Victoria Wood perform to a sell-out audience at the Spa Theatre in Scarborough. She was supported by the group Jazz Vehicle and even Wall's ice cream donated all proceeds from sales of its Solero ice cream to the theatre fund that evening.
5 October: A tragic day in the history of the Stephen Joseph Theatre occurred on 5 October 1967 when its founder Stephen Joseph died at his home in Scarborough. Stephen had been diagnosed with cancer of the liver in 1966 and yet, despite this, had remained as active as possible until the end writing two books (Theatre In The Round and New Theatre Forms). He died at the age of 46 having formed both the UK's first professional theatre-in-the-round company at the Library Theatre, Scarborough, and the UK's first professional in-the-round venue at the Victoria Theatre, Stoke-on-Trent.
7 October: An indication of the early success of the Library Theatre was Stephen Joseph's decision in the summer of 1957 (two years after the venue had opened) to gauge interest in a winter season. By this point, Stephen believed the theatre was gaining a good following in the town and that it might be enough to sustain a winter season - given that it would rely almost entirely on the local population as it would be out of the tourist season. The response to his suggestion was so great that Stephen applied to the Libraries Commission for permission for a winter season and was granted it on 7 October 1957. The season would run from 10 December 1957 to 5 January 1958 and include J.B. Priestley's I Have Been Here Before, John Osborne's Look Back In Anger, August Strindberg's Lucky Peter's Travels and David Campton's The Lunatic View.
8 October: On 8 October 1997, a revival of Alan Ayckbourn's 1974 play Absent Friends opened at the Stephen Joseph Theatre directed by the playwright himself. Notable amongst the cast was Tamzin Outhwaite as Evelyn. Tamzin had appeared earlier in the year in the chorus of Alan's production of the musical They're Playing Our Song and had so impressed the playwright, he invited her to play the key role in Absent Friends. The following year she was cast in the BBC soap opera EastEnders and went on to become a major television star.
9 October: In 1955, Stephen Joseph formed the UK's first professional theatre-in-the-round company in the UK at the Library Theatre, Scarborough. However, he was constantly searching for a permanent home for theatre-in-the-round in the UK rather than the temporary, seasonal nature of Scarborough. Theatre-in-the-round found its first permanent home when the Victoria Theatre opened on 9 October 1962 in Stoke-on-Trent. The theatre was a conversion of a former cinema and Stephen Joseph chose Peter Cheeseman to run the venue, who would be its Artistic Director from 1962 to 1998 when he retired. In 1986, the company moved to its present home, The New Vic in Newcastle-under-Lyme, which was Europe's first purpose-built theatre-in-the-round venue.
11 October: The only time on record that the Stephen Joseph Theatre has ever had to cancel a production due to illness or injury took place in 1977 when, on 11 October, the actress Petronella Ford left the company due to illness. She was appearing in Pygmalion at the time and for the final five performances, her role was taken over by Heather Stoney. More problematic was her lead role in Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, which was in repertory at the time and whose final two weeks had to be cancelled. The gap in the schedule was replaced by a revival of The Guv'nor and an extra week's run for A Man For All Seasons.
12 October: On this day in 1966, the Library Theatre's founder and Artistic Director Stephen Joseph stepped down as chairman of Scarborough Theatre Trust, essentially leaving the theatre company he founded in 1955. Stephen had closed the Library Theatre the previous year, but agreed to a plan by the theatre manager Ken Boden to re-open the theatre in 1967. As part of the re-launch, Stephen handed over control of Scarborough Theatre Trust to a new board and stepped down as chairman. That Stephen was by then quite ill with cancer was also evident in that shortly after the announcement, he had to leave the meeting due to his condition.
13 October: Alan Ayckbourn's acclaimed play My Wonderful Day opened on 13 October 2009 at the Stephen Joseph Theatre, Scarborough. It is notable as being the quickest transfer of an Ayckbourn play to New York as no sooner had the company finished its run in Scarborough, the production transferred to the 59E59 Theaters, New York, as part of the Brits Off Broadway festival. The play was a critical and commercial success in New York receiving an American Drama Desk Award nomination for both Outstanding Play and Outstanding Actress for Ayesha Antoine.
14 October: One of the most well-known plays of the 1970s was staged at the Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round in 1992 with a production of Abigail's Party by Mike Leigh. The play originally premiered at the Hampstead Theatre in April 1977 but it is better known for the TV recording of this production, starring Alison Steadman, which is regarded as a classic of the period. The Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round's production was directed by Malcolm Hebden and is, as of writing, the only Mike Leigh play to have been produced by the company.
15 October: A new playwriting talent was showcased by the Library Theatre on this day in 1975 with the world premiere of Stephen Mallatratt's first play, An Englishman's Home. Stephen had been an actor with the company since 1974 and was encouraged to write by Alan Ayckbourn, who directed An Englishman's Home and described it as a "practically perfect first play." Stephen would go on to write many more plays not least his classic adaptation of Susan Hill's ghost story The Woman In Black, which is one of the longest running shows in the West End. He would also have a very successful screen-writing career working on the soap opera Coronation Street for many years.
17 October: On 17 October 2006, the Stephen Joseph Theatre opened its 100th new play since opening in 1996 with Alan Ayckbourn's If I Were You. Notably this was also the first play to be directed by Alan following his stroke in February of the same year.
19 October: Alan Ayckbourn's acclaimed revival of Herb Gardner's Conversations With My Father at the Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round, Scarborough, transferred to the Old Vic on 19 October 1994. The transfer featured the original Scarborough company, led by Judd Hirsch, and the production was equally well-received in London.
21 October: Scarborough's Odeon cinema closed its doors for the final time on 21 October 1988 with the final film being Buster starring Phil Collins. Original plans for the derelict building largely centred on turning it into a bingo hall, but Alan Ayckbourn had an audacious plan to convert the former cinema into a new home for the Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round. This came to fruition in April 1996 when, following a £5.2m conversion, the building opened as the Stephen Joseph Theatre.
23 October: Alan Ayckbourn made headlines when it was reported he was to stop his plays being produced in the West End in 2002. Having always had an uneasy relationship with the West End, matters came to a head with the West End production of his Damsels In Distress trilogy which saw the original Scarborough company transfer to the West End. Whilst on holiday in France, Alan was told the producers had decided to essentially only present one of the plays, eliminating the other two from the repertory. Outraged by this and not having been consulted about the decision, Alan announced there would be a moratorium on his new work opening in London. There were no Ayckbourn productions in the West End for several years and although revivals are now allowed, no Ayckbourn play written since 2002 has been produced in the West End (although several have been produced in fringe theatres).
24 October: The Duchess Of Gloucester visited the Stephen Joseph Theatre on 24 October 2005.
25 October: The Stephen Joseph Theatre first co-production with the acclaimed dance company Frantic Assembly opened on 25 October 2005. The production was Villette, based on Charlotte Brontë's novel, and was directed by the theatre's Associate Director Laurie Sansom, who would go on to become the Artistic Director of the National Theatre of Scotland.
26 October: The Stephen Joseph Theatre In The Round - or Theatre In The Round At Westwood as it was originally called - opened on this day in 1976. This was the second home of the company after the Library Theatre. The venue was based at the former Westwood County Modern School and was initially intended as a short-term home for the company whilst a permanent home was never built. The new theatre was never built and the company stayed at 'Westwood' for 20 years. The opening production was the Scarborough premiere of Alan Ayckbourn's play Mr Whatnot.
27 October: The opening night in 1998 of the Stephen Joseph Theatre's production of Ibsen's A Doll's House. Directed by Alan Ayckbourn, this was the company's first production of an Ibsen play and - as of writing - remains it's only one.
28 October: World premiere of Fiona Evans' play The Price Of Everything which featured the professional stage debut of Jodie Comer, who would find international success in 2018 as the star of the BBC America show Killing Eve.
29 October: In 2007, it was announced the Stephen Joseph Theatre's Archivist - Simon Murgatroyd - and the British Library had discovered Alan Ayckbourn's long-thought lost second play, Love After All. The play, discovered in the Lord Chamberlain's Collection at the British Library was first performed in December 1959 at the Library Theatre, Scarborough, and this is believed to be the only surviving manuscript of the play.
Copyright: Simon Murgatroyd. All views expressed on this page are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the Stephen Joseph Theatre.