#Only middle aged amish women were reading them

[camelspit]

why does libby have an amish section now

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dangerous Minds

Those of my readers who haven’t known me long may not know that I was once a corps member of Teach for America. I taught 10th and 11th grade English for about 5 weeks, then I was told on a Friday about my “involuntary transfer” to another school in the district, where I’d be teaching 7th and 8th grade English instead. I went from having about 110 students to about 190. My classroom had no books (textbook or otherwise), no pencils, no paper, no markers or chalk, but it DID have one of those folding lamps that come out of the ceiling at the dentist’s office. The kids had been in there for 5 weeks with a rotating roster of subs; they’d done no schoolwork of any kind. I was teaching in a very poor area of the city, and my students were predominantly Black and Hispanic. One of my 10th graders wrote his first personal essay about getting shot the previous year. I say all this to tell you that when Chad asked that I review Dangerous Minds, the 1995 adaptation starring Michelle Pfeiffer of the true story of Louanne Johnson’s experience teaching in inner city schools in California, I was prepared to laugh it off as a cringey, Lifetime-movie representation of my experience. Is that what I got? Well...

For the most part, what I got was a ball of anxiety in my chest. It’s well-worn territory, obviously. A teacher bonds with their students from the wrong side of the tracks, and ends up learning just as much from them as they learn from him/her. Usually poetry or music features heavily as a tool that can set the students free from the depressing circumstances of their lives. Depending on the rating, usually a student dies, and the teacher learns just how Important their job is, so they commit to it even harder even though it pays no money and garners no respect from the administration who just doesn’t “get it.” But these cliches and stereotypes and broad strokes exist because at their core, they’re true, and they make me anxious and uncomfortable and I can’t laugh at them or Michelle Pfeiffer being a Nice White Lady because I’m too busy being angry about the systems we put in place that straight up abandon so many kids, all in the name of white supremacy.

Some thoughts:

Oh we’re starting right off the BAT with “Gangsta’s Paradise.” Fantastic news. Two things I associate so strongly with this song is skating around the skating rink in 2nd grade and buying the Weird Al cassingle of “Amish Paradise” and wearing it out. 

Ooh, the score was composed and performed by Wendy & Lisa! Love that, you don’t see nearly as many film scores as you should composed by women.

God, the salary is $24,700 a year and Louanne acts as though that is appealing - I can’t tell if that’s because it was 1995 or because teacher salaries are so dismally low that this feels like a good salary?

This scene in which Louanne goes into her classroom for the first time and the kids are all shouting at her and getting in her face and sexually harassing her and throwing paper balls at her is giving me stress hives. 

Also her friend Griffith (George Dzundza) saying, “You wanna teach, so teach! All you gotta do is get their attention” is rather disingenuous. Trust me, you can have their attention, and still not be able to teach. 

I’m excited to see Sally-Can’t-Dance from Con Air as Raul (Renoly Santiago). He’s honestly fantastic in this, with a tough exterior but a sensitive and gooey inner sweet boy. All of the teens give pretty solid performances, but he’s a real standout.

I recognize this is based on a true story and Louanne Johnson’s lived experience, but I am not sure it’s wise for any teacher, regardless of grade or subject, to be teaching her students how to fight each other. Or taking them to dinner on what looks to outsiders like a date. I know some people have a problem with the bribery (giving her students candy for speaking up in class) but I have no problem with it - you get paid to do all the dumb stuff you don’t want to do at work, why shouldn’t kids be compensated for going to school if they don’t want to be there? External motivation goes a long way to building up internal motivation.

Mm I do love me some Courtney B. Vance, but he’s such a quiet, condescending ass in this. It’s a different vibe than I’m used to seeing in a principal in a movie like this. 

Ooh, Griffith grading papers and saying “What a fuckin’ idiot” is a real mood. 

“Since when has the Board of Education done anything for us? We barely get fuckin lunch” is legit. The lunches my students were served in summer school were some of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen. One day it was spoiled milk, white bread, and pickles. And one of my students put his in a microwave that was hidden in the back of my classroom behind some dividers and left it for a week. And just so you know, as stomach-churningly awful as that sounds, the day I found “pickle man” as my student called him, isn’t even in my top 5 worst days teaching list. 

I like Griffith, and I’m glad Louanne has a friend, but frankly I’m not that interested in these interludes between them - they really feel like they slow down the momentum from the scenes of her in the classroom slowly earning the kids’ trust. The pacing is kind of a mess, because the most dynamic sections all revolve around the kids in the classroom, and I feel like that only makes up about a third of the movie. 

One thing I know for sure is you do not get in the middle of a fight between students. I have a friend who worked in the same district I did who interrupted a fight and got punched in the face because of it. And her principal blamed her. 

Oh wow the way the soundtrack picks up when Emilio finally engages in the class is some kinda cheesy. And it continues through the rest of the scene to a distracting degree. Oh Wendy and Lisa, I hoped for better. 

Can I just emphasize that to reach these kids, Louanne uses her experience as a LITERAL MARINE by demonstrating she can kick all their asses, and then she bribes them by paying for 25 kids to go to an amusement park for the entire day with her?

Also, even if they like and respect her now, I call bullshit at any scene in which ALL of  the kids are A) sitting in their seats or B) silent, and especially C) both. 

Um suddenly feeling some weird vibes with Louanne and Raul having a dinner date at this fancy restaurant by themselves. Also, the double standard here is pretty telling - there’s no way this scene makes the movie if Louanne had been a male teacher and Raul was a female student.

Wait wait wait, she’s also loaning Raul $200? Like, is this why I didn’t make it as a teacher? Because I wasn’t a former Marine taking students to amusement parks and fancy dinners and lending them money? I was 25 and could barely afford rent. Maybe teachers who have enough money to take care of themselves are better equipped to take care of others. Idk, I’m just spitballin here.

Oh “Gangsta’s Paradise” is happening again! We already heard the whole song over the opening credits but now it’s happening again about 3/4 way through. I mean this song is definitely the best thing about the film, so I get it, but it feels weird that they think we wouldn’t notice it playing to completion twice.

Michelle Pfeiffer is doing everything she can to make this movie feel less cheesy and more real. Like, you can tell she’s really trying with her performance. Of course, it’s not like the character is a huge challenge acting-wise, but she is definitely committed to the part and can walk the line of both accessible and tough. 

This scene where Louanne tells her class she is not going to be there next year, that what happened to Durell and Lionel and Callie and Emilio made her too sad to stay has not aged well at all. And it’s certainly true to life, and I say that as someone who did the same thing. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s a reality - the fact that I’m a nice white lady is exactly the reason that I can choose to leave when things get too hard. Just because the kids convince her to stay at the end in this very rushed “all’s well that ends well” way doesn’t sweep this scene under the rug, and it shouldn’t. 

Ope, “Gangsta’s Paradise” shows up one last time in the credits for good measure. 

Side note: after the film, I researched Louanne, and she’s still teaching, which honestly made me emotional (in a good way). And I’d like to point out the racist ass bullshit the studio and screenwriter Ronald Bass pulled by changing the poems the students read to Bob Dylan lyrics when Louanne originally used rap lyrics from popular artists in ‘89-’90 to teach the kids about poetry. 

Did I Cry? No, but I did get heartburn from anxiety flashbacks.

This genre of film is easy to mock and parody because it tells the same story and hits the same beats to the point that they’ve become cliche. Ultimately, the truth at the heart of the movie (which is the un-nuanced and candy-coated depiction of Johnson’s real memoir, My Posse Don’t Do Homework) is that high schoolers crave someone who will see them and validate them, someone who is willing to put in the effort. The quality of the package that truth is wrapped in varies, and this one certainly leans in hard on stereotypes that feel like cheat codes rather than any real illuminating depictions of living teenagers. But as cringey as it is to watch, maybe it’s not a bad thing to remember that all people - including those who are trapped in poverty and all the cruel injustices that entails - want to be seen and valued for who they really are. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[tophatsftw]

I read this auto straddle post, and it spoke to me. let’s go lesbians.

what people are fighting about on Twitter

falconer

sensitive, white girl Ikea decor

being in the Midwest (cheese)

which craft stores are ethically sourcing their wool

why pie charts suck

Having multiple conflicting feelings at the same time

Mitski’s right hand in the Geyser music video

Nora Ephron

trying not to be a U-Haul Lesbian and also being a U-Haul Lesbian

Bottle-feeding kittens

my dog & her various doggy woes

being Very Online™

homophobic 80s-90s action/horror movies

Cate Blanchett

large appliances

screaming and crying in socially inappropriate spheres

Sandra Bullock’s entire filmography

Vermicomposting

unlikely instances of near death experiences

the neopets stock market

animals that look like people

Kristen Stewart’s facial expressions

Apocalypse prepping

Satanic philosophy and history

why queers love My Chemical Romance so dang much

casseroles

cultivating hobbies in your 20’s to feel alive again

a fascination with straight people’s behavior

I also am extremely into bees. Like, my dudes, you have — I swear to you, on my mom, that this is an absolute fact — never, ever met someone who knows or cares about bees as much as I do. Everybody says, “Oh, I love bees; hell yeah, save the bees!”… but they’re only ever talking about the European honeybee, apis mellifera, a species transplanted from its original endemic territory to support large-scale agriculture, a practice that has had a purely negative impact on the earth and upon ourselves ever since humanity’s shift to agrarian society from hunter-gatherer culture circa 3000 BCE. Have any of these people who “love bees” even HEARD of solitary species? Do they know about thyreus nitidulus, the neon cuckoo bee? It’s blue! It’s beautiful!

intersectional Satanic feminism

boobs??!

eating a 1lb bag of Sour Patch Kids in under an hour

MILFs

Cringey mid-2000s teen dramas that had too few lesbians

Paul Giamatti’s film and music career

baseball caps worn backwards

Amish romance novels

everything about donuts

wholesome thirst trapping

the Venn diagram of Janelle Monae and Carly Rae Jepsen fandom

insulting men who say gross stuff to me in my DMs

…cooking pasta?

saying embarrassing things that make me want to die in a hole

going on 100 first dates without ever getting a second

Committing to a bit that was never that funny to start with, but now that I’ve started you can pry it from my cold dead hands

knitting penis-shaped pillows

identifying what episode of The Nanny it is based on C.C. Babcock’s hair

running long distances very slowly

puppets, just all types of puppets

communications cables and antennas

girl groups of the ’60s

moss

The Devil Wears Prada Cerulean Monologue

telling people to quit things they should quit

power tools one can rent from Home Depot

Hayley Kiyoko (I’m a three-time award winner of the “Most Likely to Mention Hayley Kiyoko in a Piece Not About Hayley Kiyoko” award at [redacted publication])

Irish country singer Daniel O’Donnell

golden retrievers

geology, specifically volcanoes

Fyre Festival

The Boys Are Back In Town

Film bros and how to shut them down

ruining vegan cakes by accident

having two straight women as best friends

loud eyeshadow

horses, Jodie Foster

Which Lana Del Rey Song to Make Out To

Mid 2000’s MySpace/Emo Culture

lesbian weddings (not my own)

Charcuterie Boards

the perils of being Very Tall Indeed

media to watch while stoned

escape rooms

18th century satire

basket-weaving, I am not kidding do you want to see a picture of my basket

Hannibal Lecter

History of the ball-point pen

swords

old dyke stuff

I’m not a sex toy expert, but I’m sure I could learn

drawing ugly stick figures

70’s soft rock

A-Camp

Big Little Lies, the audiobook of Big Little Lies

middle aged actresses

Bath and Body Works candles

consuming popular media years after everyone else and letting people enjoy it again vicariously through you

how to take care of a backyard above-ground pool impulsively purchased at Target in Denver, a place with no water and weird weather (an ongoing investigation)

spending money I don’t have to support women on Kickstarter

a deep knowledge of 1800s British literature that I did not ask for

treating your plants as your children

HORSES

Should a Duggar ever come out, I am READY to write that article yesterday

aggressive inline skating

Barbra Streisand; circus history

identifying British birds

being an Appalachian in New York during the Year of Our Dumpster Lord 2019 when the New York Times seems determined to profile everyone I’ve ever been to Walmart with

being friends with theater people

how to make couples fall in love with you even when they totally thought they were just going to “try” a threesome “once” lol

Linoleum

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper Interviews Linda Castillo

Fallen by Linda Castillo brings back the wonderful character, Chief of Police Kate Burkholder. Fans of this series are never disappointed with these amazing stories, and this novel is no different.  

The plot begins with a young woman brutally murdered at a Painter’s Mill motel. Called to investigate, Police Chief Kate Burkholder realizes she knew the victim, Rachel Schwartz. She and Kate had some things in common, not really fitting into the Amish community when they were young women.

This story allows readers to get a further glimpse into Kate’s life before she left the Amish community. There is a mixture of old Amish traditions with the changing values of some. People are led to understand why Kate and Rachel felt the need to join the “English community.” As a child, Rachael was a rowdy rulebreaker whose decision to leave devastated her parents and best friend, Loretta. As an adult, she continued to be a rabble-rouser, not caring who she hurt to succeed in life. Her no-holds-barred lifestyle earned her a lot of enemies, both English and Amish.

Through Kate’s investigations people learn of frequent explanations for why officers think and act in a certain way. Kate realizes someone doesn’t want Rachael’s past, or the mysteries she took with her to the grave, coming to light. As Kate digs deeper, violence strikes again, this time literally hitting close to home as Kate is put through the ringer, having to fight for her own life.

With A Simple Murder, readers are treated to another Linda Castillo book, out this year. These six short stories feature Kate Burkholder and her partner in crime (and the bedroom) John Tomasetti. The stories are not as complex, dark, or gritty as the novels. There are crimes of greed, jealousy and passion. Even with short stories, Castillo has a knack for pulling readers into the story by weaving in a fascinating plot line with interesting characters, highlighting Kate Burkholder’s abilities as the police chief of Painters Hill.

The stories’ plots:

Long Lost has Kate and her lover John Tomasetti on vacation when they are asked to investigate a girl who just disappeared years ago.

A Hidden Secret has a baby abandoned on a Bishop’s doorstep. The infant was left with some items which led Kate to believe that the mother might be Amish. Kate and John are determined to find the mother.

Seeds of Deception explores Kate’s Amish past. She wonders who burnt a barn, and were her friends involved.

Only The Lucky delves into the rager parties with drugs, alcohol, and music.  When one of the Amish girls attending the rager is attacked and left for dead, Kate has to find out who wanted to hurt this young woman.

In Dark Company Kate must find the person who tried to kill a woman.  The problem is the victim has amnesia and Kate wonders if she is hiding anything or is truly a victim.

In Plain Sight a teenage Amish boy, Noah Kline, is seriously injured by what appeared to be a hit and run. But Kate discovers there were some who had motives to injure Noah because he was dating an English girl.

Elise Cooper: With both Fallen and A Simple Murder you have twists and turns.

Linda Castillo: It is satisfying as a mystery writer to lead the reader down a slightly wrong path whether in the short stories or the novel. But I also leave subtle clues to be fair.  

EC:  In Fallen, there are more glimpses of Kate’s past?

LC: I am always thinking of Kate’s past.  Last year’s book, Outsider, delved into her years before she became Police Chief in Ohio.  This book gives glimpses of Kate shortly before she left the Amish community.  

EC:  How would you describe the victim, Rachel?

LC:  Kate knew Rachel as a child since she sometimes babysat her.  Rachel was a rebel rouser from the time she was two years old, and it got worse from there.  Kate realizes as a child Rachel was a ‘pistol” type personality. In some ways she could be loveable, while in other ways she was maddening and disrespectful.  As she became an adult Rachel did really bad things.  She had aspects of a sociopath without much of a conscience.  She was a rule breaker, risk taker, could not identify boundaries, and stepped over the line.  But even with all that, Kate felt Rachel deserved justice and did not deserve to be bludgeoned to death.

EC:  How would you describe Rachel’s friend Loretta?

LC:  She was always Rachel’s best friend.  A rule follower, the polar opposite of Rachel, because she always wanted to do the right thing. She was very protective of Rachel and never abandoned her even when Rachel had “Fallen” from the graces of the Amish community. She always knew there was some good buried inside Rachel.  

EC:  Rachel wrote a tell all book about the Amish community. Did that ever really happen?

LC:  There were actual books, which I have read.  The authors were disgruntled so they wrote a book. Rachel made a lot of enemies with her book, because there were people in Painters Mill who did not want things to come to light, including Kate’s brother.  

EC:  What is the Amish rager?

LC:  A rager was a huge outdoor party, held in a barn or field, without adults.  There was music, alcohol, and sometimes the English showed up.  The gathering had a lot of rule breaking before the Amish were baptized, many on rumspringa. I wrote about it in one of the short stories and in this novel.  I knew about it because I was sent an article that said the sheriff had to arrest 74 Amish teenagers. Because Amish teens are pretty well behaved and had led protective lives some act out during rumspringa.

EC:  Did you base anything on the Killbuck clan, considered to be Hutterites?

LC:  It is loosely based on a clan in Ohio.  In 2013, there was an incident in which Amish religious symbols were violated.  Once a woman gets married, she no longer cuts her hair, and the husband does not shave his beard.  A bishop directed his followers to forcibly cut the hair and beards of other members of the Amish faith. Prosecutors actually charged sixteen with a hate crime.  In this novel, I just took it a step further, fictionalized it, and made them cult-like.  

EC:  Kate had some similar qualities to young Rachel?

LC:  Both did not follow the rules although Kate knew boundaries. Kate did see parallels between the two of them.  They got in trouble and did not respect many of the Amish norms.  In some way they were kindred spirits with spunk since both drank and smoked.

EC:  In A Simple Murder readers get an understanding of the Kate and John relationship?

LC:  Kate’s biological clock is ticking since she is in her mid-thirties.  The wonderful thing about fiction is that the characters do not have to age. It has been satisfying as a writer to see John Tomesetti heal.  After he bought the farm and barn and fixed it up, he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with Kate.  They are going to stay together and at some point, will get married.  

EC:  A Simple Murder is a compilation of short stories?

LC: Yes.  They were previously released in e-format. These stories are not as dark, a little lighter, more fun, and not quite so heavy.  My goal was to try to capture the setting, characters, and keep the mystery straight forward.  

EC:  When will your next short story be released?

LC: It will be probably released before my next book Hidden.

EC:  What about your next book?

LC: Hidden will be out this time next year.  The setting is in Kish Valley in the middle part of Pennsylvania. Kate was asked by three elders from that area to investigate a Cold Case where a Bishop’s remains are found after eighteen years.

THANK YOU!!

[ramblingpillager-blog]

VRC: Brandon

Brandon swaggered, as only a VR avatar could swagger, through the crowded bar. How stupid that VR bars were nearly impenetrable. It’s not like you could drink real alcohol in a VR bar. 

His ID twinkled above his head, RecklessABrandon. That made him swagger too. He was proud of that one. Took him three days to think of it, and then he had to totally redesign his avatar to match. His avatar, like Brandon in the flesh, was muscular, fit, and attractive. He spent as much time running at the gym as he did in his VR headset.

Unlike many, VR didn’t suck Brandon in for days at a time. He liked being outdoors in the Minneapolis sun. Climate change had made the central US weather pretty erratic, but Minnesota had lucked out. The winters were milder, and the lakes and parks helped make the summers a little more bearable. Plus he had hockey practice three nights a week most of the year. His VR time had to pack a lot of entertainment for each minute, since he had so little.

The hot chick at the bar watched him cross the dance floor and worm his way through a crowd of cheering sorority sisters who’d gotten wasted and come to the VR bar to fuck shit up. But this girl wasn’t into that shit, and Brandon nodded approvingly.

Of course, everybody in VR looked great. It was the risk you took, building relationships with these projections of people’s illusions rather than their physical beings. “Outing” avatars had become a pastime for a whole sector of Internet trolls, members of the jealous class who hacked into less-secure VR networks and stalked social media for any clues that might link an avatar to its owner. The fact that RecklessABrandon wasn’t afraid to have his name in his handle meant he was either too solid in real life to care what people knew about him, or he was part of the troll gangs who loved to out their victims.

Of course, it was easy to dump one avatar identity and pick up another, so almost no one knew Brandon led the r/outage board for “kills,” as they liked to call them. It was all meant to be base human cruelty, but sometimes the cruelty hit its mark too hard and victims took themselves out of VR permanently, usually via suicide. If you couldn’t VR, you struggled to get anywhere in life. Unless you were Amish. Some of the outed people moved to Amish country, no joke.

Trolling had gotten so bad, Congress haggled over two bills, one banning the use of anything but real names (it got shot down immediately by privacy advocates and domestic abuse victims groups) and another to apply a 5 year Internet and VR ban to anyone caught outing someone else. The second bill almost passed, but some of the Internet freedom groups drummed up enough fear that the government couldn’t be trusted to identify trolls unless it also had access to everyone’s usernames, profile information, and location data, something the Privacy Act of 2027 had banned outright thanks to Senator Snowden’s efforts to reform the US’s privacy laws.

Brandon loved Senator Snowden. In fact, he donated money to his re-election campaign every six years as a quiet token of gratitude. Privacy laws had bolstered security around everyone’s account information. As someone who understood those systems too well, RecklessABrandon felt little fear that his side hobby would get him busted.

The girl at the bar was still watching him. Hm. Was that an invitation? Might as well knock on this door while it was available. Maybe she had one of the new suits that let people experience in the flesh what they were doing in VR. Because he sure did, and VR sex was way better than the original. If you had the right person. And a little daring.

Brandon nestled himself into his VR rig, moving gracefully in real space within a full 360° harness that allowed him to act out every motion he was performing within the virtual environment. His swagger may have been exaggerated a bit in virtual reality - a man’s got to represent, after all - but anyone who really knew him in VR could pick out his gait as he strolled IRL.

“Hey. What are you doing in a dive like this?” he opened, hoping a slight nod to film noire might score him some points with this woman who radiated confidence and allure. Mmmmm. He didn’t need his mesh suit to tell his body parts what to feel. She generated everything he needed. 

She tipped up her chin in a manner of greeting. Too chill to be bothered to speak, he noted. “Want to join me in some whiskey and then some sex?” Brandon didn’t beat around. He’d learned that people in VR tended to be more upfront about their goals, since they had a level of anonymity to protect them. And he had to consider that this gorgeous model might be piloted by some dude in a half-assed piece of shit rig in a slum in Oklahoma City. You had to take risks, if you wanted to gain any glory. Besides, he loved outing the cross-gender VR avatars. Absolutely made his day. 

“Hello, Brandon.” Her voice came through his headset as an alto, smoky with an undercurrent of bourbon and danger. She stood up and slid over a seat so he could have the stool. He noticed her incredible figure, her size D breasts, her dress slit up the thigh allowing him a glimpse of black lace panties. If she wasn’t here for sex, she sure was hanging out the wrong shingle.

“You mean RecklessABrandon,” he responded with a wink. Gotta make sure the bitches are clear about his self-confidence. Plus the wise ones would heed the warning: This guy is fine with you knowing his real name. Don’t fuck him over, or he’ll destroy you IRL.

“Fine. Then I guess you’ll have to call me PollyM0th, if we’re going to be all formal about it.” She swigged the last of her bourbon and set the glass aside. “I’ve got a room booked upstairs, and I’ve been itching to try it out. Are you wearing a suit?”

“Yeah. Top of the line Nike 2689, just came out a month ago. If you so much as brush a fingertip across my arm, I’d feel it.”

“Excellent. Let’s see how much it can take.”

***** One benefit of virtual sex was the avoidance of pounding and shouting in the flesh, which always had the risk of generating threats from the people next door or below. Brandon followed PollyM0th up the stairs to a room at the end of the 3rd virtual floor. VR had spawned an entire industry of virtual real estate, where brokers bought and sold virtual apartments and houses for real money. It made little sense to the aging Millennials but nobody gave a shit about them anyway. Whoever hadn’t made the jump to VR got left behind, as far as most VR residents were concerned.  If you were the type to spend most of your time online, what did it matter how shitty your apartment was in real life?

This woman clearly loved her space. The oak door opened at a touch - virtual fingerprint lock technology, he noted. It wasn’t enough that the door probably recognized her ID; this was an additional security measure meant to ensure no one could hack their way into her VR space. Wise move.

The interior, as was common in VR apartments, vastly overflowed the physical “exterior” of the apartment. In virtual space, rules of geometry were irrelevant. Renters could pay for as much interior storage as they wanted. PollyM0th clearly paid for a lot.

She grabbed him by the tie (Brandon always dressed up to go clubbing; only slobs didn’t) and pulled him toward her for a kiss that was shockingly passionate. His Nike suit did not disappoint him; these models included a comfortable lightweight face mesh that enabled the wearer to experience exactly something like this, a kiss. He mentally praised his foresight in refusing to skimp on quality where it mattered.

A small file chimed in his vision. His hands were occupied though with this vixen chewing on his lip while she groped for his trousers. He put his hands to better use, feeling around her shoulders to unzip the back of her dress. It fell away revealing her naked torso. God, she was beautiful.  He didn’t even care that she was probably a 250 pound middle-aged woman from some godforsaken corn town in Iowa. He’d hack her tomorrow to find out for sure; right now he wanted the sex.

PollyM0th maneuvered them both toward a spacious bedroom appointed with a variety of chains, hooks, and posts. Ah. A BDSM junkie. Of course. He’d been a little lax lately in checking out the women he banged in VR; and as a general rule, he avoided the kinky ones unless he had some reason to believe they were good at it. Hopefully, this one would let him handcuff her, bang her, and then leave her till the cuffs expired in an hour or two. Virtual BDSM was actually pretty dull even with a good flesh suit.

As if she’d read his thoughts, PollyM0th stopped kissing and groping and looked him over. “You probably think this is dumb, don’t you, my lair of sexual fantasy and bondage. Most men do.  They just want to handcuff me to the bed, and walk out once they’re done. I hope you’re not so dull.”

He eyed her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous form. “For you, madam, I would do anything tonight.”

“Anything?”

“Absolutely. Do your worst. I can’t wait.” He pulled off his tie and threw it on a chair. Arms spread wide, Brandon dared her to make it worth it.

Oh, she did. Brandon lost track of time as they tumbled, groped, banged, sucked, whipped, tied, and teased their way through a pair of orgasms each. She showed little signs of slowing down, though he was getting pretty tired. His Nike suit transmitted every experience perfectly, though now he understood why the salesman had emphasized repeatedly that his suit was machine washable.

PollyM0th eyed Brandon up and down, his naked avatar reclining lazily on the bed. “I bet you’ve never actually done anything really interesting in VR,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes at his virtual penis with a questioning look.

“What? God, woman, you don’t even know me. I’ve done everything with this penis, both in the flesh and in pixels.” Brandon found himself genuinely offended.

“Are you willing to put that Nike 2689 through its paces one more time? Or are you done for the night?” She got up, turning her lucious rear view toward his appreciative gaze.

“I can take anything you can dish out. Tie me up, do what you will. I’m ready.”

“Did you notice I sent you a file awhile back?”

No, he hadn’t. His hands and brain and penis had all been busy when it’d arrived, and he’d completely forgotten to see what she’d sent. He flipped the file onto his virus checker and frowned. Yellow bar. That meant the file would execute a program. “What is this? I don’t run programs from strangers.”

She turned around, holding a metal bar and a pair of handcuffs. “If you want to put me in these, you’re gonna have to open the file. Look, my dad runs a company that writes VRware for suits like yours. That’s why I have such a great suit myself. My dad programmed the software to perfectly fit my body.  And he wrote an enhancer that works with any top-line suit. You’ll feel things you’ve never experienced before, I promise.”

He flipped the file open without a pause.

***** Oh god, oh god. This is horrible. He couldn’t say it, but it was all he’d been thinking for the past ... how long had it been? He had no idea.

If anyone had walked into Brandon’s actual apartment at that moment, they would have seen him frozen motionless in his $2500 VR rig, his ankles and knees and wrists suspended in front of him, in alignment with his head. On his screen, they would have seen the whole picture: his virtual body was locked in a steel frame, ankles and knees and wrists handcuffed to a bar that ran all the way to a metal collar around his neck.

He’d discovered some things about his Nike 2689 that the salesman hadn’t mentioned, or perhaps the girl was telling the truth about her dad’s programming abilities. Either way, once she’d locked him in place with what he thought were self-timed handcuffs, his face mesh had hardened into a mouth piece that blocked his ability to speak. The material covering his eyes went opaque, blocking his vision. And the suit otherwise responded realistically to being handcuffed to a metal bar and suspended from the ceiling.

But it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at him right now, though if the bitch was to be believed, she’d kept him cuffed for two hours already. His body suggested she was telling the truth, and his full bladder was beginning to force its way into his consciousness with urgent warnings. If I piss myself, and my girlfriend finds me in here in what looks like a whorehouse covered in my own urine, she’s going to walk out and never come back.

No, it’s what she’s saying.

“Well, Brandon, I’m glad you dropped by tonight. You know, I’ve been waiting in that hell-hole of a bar every night for four weeks hoping to find you. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? How many people have you outed? One hundred? Two hundred? Your profile on r/outed suggests it might be closer to two-fifty.”

This is when he realized she wasn’t role playing anymore.

The virtual cuffs were made only of pixels, but his Nike suit squeezed even harder around his body, stifling his breathing and holding him rigid in places that weren’t meant to be immobile at this angle. His back ached, his neck muscles burned, his tongue felt wooly since it’d been probably 4 or 5 hours since he’d had a chance to drink any water.

“Two hundred and fifty people, lives opened up and smeared all over the Internet, for your pleasure. Dick move, Brandon. Brandon Lewis. Brandon Lewis of 365 Sycamore Street, Minneapolis.”

Underneath the mesh suit, beads of sweat formed on Brandon’s face as he blanched. If she outed him....

“Oh yes, you’re fucked. The only question is whether I’m going to fuck you and crush you, or just humiliate you.  What’ll it be?  Oh, right, you can’t say anything.” She waved a finger toward a menu and Brandon felt the mesh around his mouth loosen.

He panted and tried to lick his lips. “Please, I don’t know what you want, but this is genuinely painful. Please let me go.”

“Of course it’s painful, asshole. Why do you think I did it?”

“These cuffs are going to expire soon, right? Like, I get your point, ok? You think I’m a total dick because I outed people. Yes, I did it. I’m Brandon Lewis. Con-fucking-gratulations on your google skills, bitch--” A sharp pain shot through his back as she grabbed his virtual ankles and twisted them one way while turning his wrists and the bar in the opposite direction

“Look, Brandon, here’s the situation. These aren’t timed cuffs. I have total control of your suit. Also, while you’ve been hanging there, I’ve dumped your hard drive data and located your complete activity log for the past four years. One, I can’t believe you’re still using the same crappy hardware. Guess you put all your money into your fancy experience suit. Two, I’m about to doxx you into no tomorrow on r/outed. I know your troll buddies won’t care that you’ve been outing, but the FBI watches that board daily for clues, and I’m about to make sure they find you.

“Hopefully the FBI will figure it out soon, because I have no intention of releasing a piece of shit like you back into the wild. I’ve locked your door -- thanks for installing smart locks, by the way -- and posted the code along with your address and list of outings on the r/outed board. It’s currently 5am. Assuming the FBI checks the board first thing in the morning, you can expect someone to show up and release you by noon today. I’ve also texted your girlfriend that you were with me all night having hot sex, and she’s pretty angry with you. I think I watched her storm out the door via your security cameras. So I’d say you’ll be all alone until the feds come to lock you up.”

Brandon swallowed. He was numb all over, unrelated to his uncomfortable position. He raced for ideas, hoping to hit on something he could say that might work as a bargaining chip.

He didn’t even get to take a full breath to speak before the facial mesh tightened across his mouth, mirroring the gag PollyM0th crammed into his mouth in her virtual dungeon. She smiled. “I don’t want to hear it, Brandon. Save it for your lawyer.” She waved her left hand in the farewell menu gesture, but instead of disappearing from the frame, Brandon watched as her bedroom faded from his view. He was left looking at the grey grid of a blank program in his own developer software, watching the clock in the corner blink slowly toward sunrise.