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hurt-care · 6 years ago

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His Lordship’s Gardener - Part 2

This is part 2! If you haven’t read Part 1, you can find it here

Cowritten with @salamanderskin

The early light finds Isaiah Cartwright sleeping soundly in the wide four-poster bed of the guest room at Woodhaven. It is another warm morning and he has kicked the blankets off in the night, so he that his striped pyjamas stand out against the white bottom sheet which is rucked and tangled by a night's tossing and turning. He wakes gradually, and the first thing he is aware of his head. He is no longer so congested but his sinuses have taken up such a tight, high ache that for a moment upon opening his eyes he thinks he must have spent the night before drinking, or crying, or possibly both. He raises an uncertain hand to touch his eyelids. His eyes are certainly puffy enough for the latter, though better by far than they had been at Kew. Despite the discomfort he is not one to waste the morning and he rises at once, and by the time he has had a cup of tea with the servant he is feeling much better.

The memory of the night before seems to cling to his skin. He only has to close his eyes to feel again the sensation of Elder's touch, and he finds himself returning to the memory often as he spends the day draughting sketches of the grounds, consulting books on geometry and architecture to help him refine his plans for the glasshouse. He hides in a corner of Elder's capacious library and works diligently, pausing only to dip his head away from his paper for quick triple fits of sneezes, carefully smothered to protect the studious silence even though he is it's only subject. Even these outbursts come to remind him of the gentle way Elder had tended to his nose, making the rose-cold doubly distracting to him. He thinks he read in the press of the man's body a desire for something further, and the memory intrigues him, yet it is laced with a keen sense of awkwardness. What if last night was a one-off, never to be repeated? Elder's status over his is such that he would never dare presume... He was never any good at reading women, and he can fears he can read Lord Elder's attentions not at all. For this reason Isiah spends most of the next day avoiding the other man out of sheer nerves. As he returns to his room, stepping quietly on the wooden floorboards as he passes Elder's study, he sharply aware that he cannot keep this up forever. Back in his own chambers, Elder spends a restless night. The cold sheets of his own bed are unwelcoming and constricting, and he ends up doing a good deal of anxious pacing and sitting in the armchair by the window, staring out at the back garden. His nervous temperament has never been keen on the perils of romance and when he wakes in the morning, his heart still races. He has a maid draw a cool bath and he soaks for an hour, unable to get the young gardener out of his mind. The broad lines of his chest, the slim angle of his hips, the delicate arch of his nose… He burns deep in the pit of his belly at the memory. Though he knows it is not more than a lustful sin, he resorts to touching himself in the bath and is slumped over within a minute, somewhat relieved but still mind still racing. His lunch he takes in his study and passes his time reading a detailed study of the rose-cold treatments until he is too worked-up by the persistent memory of Isaiah and he has to find something else to occupy his mind. When the floorboards outside his study creak with passing footsteps, he rises, expecting that it is Anna, one of the housemaids, who is cleaning the upstairs rooms. Eager for a cup of cool lemonade, he opens his study door and pokes his head out, only to find Cartwright just down the hall. “Hello, Mr. Cartwright,” he says, surprised. “Are you feeling better?” More footsteps come down the hall and Anna rounds the corner with a large bouquet of fresh flowers in her arms. “Good afternoon, sir,” she says, inclining her head. “Thought these would be nice to freshen up your study.” Elder’s heart skips several beats and his palms begin to sweat. “I thought I had instructed Bishop!” he snaps. “No flowers inside, whatsoever. They cause an adverse reaction in Mr. Cartwright, here.” “The gardener?” Anna asks incredulously, looking at Cartwright. “Landscape architect, Miss Porte.” Isaiah's features flicker from nervous to pleased and then back again. He is not sure whether to be delighted at Elder's defense of his profession or embarrassed at causing a scene, however slight, in the otherwise tranquil household. “Please, my Lord, I do not wish to be an inconvenience.” He is aware of the ridiculousness of Elder's statement from the maid's perspective. He stands a good foot over her, smart and formal in his day suit, and the bouquet in her arms is so soft and pretty that the suffering it represents for him is difficult to rationalize. Despite this mental conviction, he can already feel his nose beginning to prickle. He fights the desire to rub at the corner of his eyes. He knows by now that what begins as a transient ticklishness will soon have him in fits if he cannot get away from the source of it, but it would be the height of rudeness to simply flee the scene. Caught between Lord Elder and the maid with her armful of flowers he rocks nervously on the balls of his feet, waiting desperately for the encounter to be over. If he does not breathe too much through his nose, perhaps he can stave off the now-familiar sensation of impending sneeziness. Then again, perhaps not, for he feels his breath began to hitch despite his best efforts and he casts an imploring glance at his employer. “I'm sure Miss Porte meant well.” He attempts. Then his expression takes on expression of urgency and he turns away from the pair of them. He barely manages to reach for his handkerchief in time, supplying Elder a glimpse of his lips parting, eyebrows tilted upwards and nostrils flared wide before he doubles over with a characteristic fit of three. His politeness is impeccable, but the sound of the last betrays his frustration in a more forceful outburst, as though attempting to sign off and be finished. “--idtssh!-ittssh!-idtssh!” As he raises his head, the lingering twitch to his nostrils suggests he shall have no such luck. “Is there a reason you are still standing here dumbstruck before me, Miss Porte?” Elder snaps as he digs in his pocket for the spare clean handkerchief he's starting carrying for the poor Mister Cartwright. He passes it to the gardner with an apologetic look. He rarely shouts at the servants, but he is livid and makes a mental note to discuss the matter with Bishop at a later date. “Yes, sir,” Anna replies, lowering her eyes as she gives a slight curtsy. Bouquet in arms, she brushes past the pair, hurrying down the hallway to the back stairs. As soon as she is gone, Elder rushes forward, taking Cartwright's arm and looking at his face with tenderness, examining the man's rapidly reddening eyes. “My most sincere apologies,” he says, his hand finding the knob to Cartwright's chambers and opening the door. “Please, inside.” He ushers the man into the rooms and towards the bed. They're barely seated before Elder leans in, kissing the man gently on the brow. “I'm sorry I've yet to see you today and that it must be under these circumstances again.” Isaiah nods, squirming under the man's attention. His cheeks have taken on a high, rose blush- the room is suddenly far too warm. His fingers go to his collar and he loosens his cravat. It hardly helps. “Please, it's nothing.” He waves Elder's attention away. “Do not concern yourself. I am sure it will pass.” Those last words come out tight and breathy, but he pretends not to notice and works hard on keeping his features placid and still. It is a battle. There is a fluttering, ticklish itch in the inside of his nose which was hardly dulled by his previous fit, and every breath makes it more insistent. He gives his nose a firm, decisive rub with the heel of his hand and tries to ignore the slight squelching sound this makes. It avails him little, however. After a long pause during which he can feel his Lordship's gave boring into him, his body gives up. All in a moment he draws a surprised gasp and a single sneeze escapes him. “hp'tdtssh!” Belatedly, he cups his hand to his nose. “Excuse me.” The sneeze sprays a little, misting Elder's neck, and feels a rush of heat under his own collar. He tugs his own cravat off and reaches over to fully remove Isaiah's, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of the gardener's throat. “Tarry here a while,” he says, stretching back onto the bed. “We can talk nonsense and no one will bother us here. Especially not that foolish Anna.” He feels the pressure of Isaiah's body reclining at his side as he closes his eyes. It is hot in the room, with the temperature outside a sweltering summer heat. The drapes are not fully drawn, and a beam of sun is spread across the bed, striping their bodies with while light and illuminating motes floating lazily in the air. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asks. “I'm sorry I had to go, but running a house is a full time occupation most days.” “I did sleep well, surprisingly.” Isaiah murmurs, lying back beside his Lordship. He does not close his own eyes, preferring to keep them open and use the time to explore Elder's face. The man has surprisingly thick lashes, laid darkly against his cheek, but Isaiah's attention is more drawn by the violet shadows beneath them. “I can see that you did not. Begging your pardon, but you look as though you were up all night. Perhaps you can rest a little now.” “I could not sleep,” Elder says with a sigh, his arm brushing Isaiah's as he stretches. He tucks his forearm through the crook of the man's elbow and lets his fingers explore the skin there where Cartwright's sleeve exposes tan skin. “I think I had too much of you on my mind, if I may speak frankly.” A smile plays on his lips as he admits this. The men lie in silence for a little while, basking in the warmth of the sun. Outside a thrush warbles and the light wind plays in the tops of the trees. The peace is only broken for Isaiah to sniff wetly, once, and then a second time. On the third time he draws his handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and applies it to his nose in a firm, pinching wipe that leaves his nostrils scarlet. He coughs to clear his ticklish throat and says, wryly, “Well, I can no longer dispute your diagnosis of a rose-cold. I was feeling relatively well until Anna came by with those flowers, and now I am, well-” He sniffles, partially for effect and partially because his nose really is running a surprising amount. “It is very curious. I would not have thought that such a small exposure would have such a great effect...” He shrugs, spreading his hands to indicate that such a thing is beyond him. “I am sorry you have taken ill again, especially if you were feeling better earlier. So little is known about this affliction that it is indeed possible that Anna's bouquet caused your suffering, though I agree, it does seem strange. If it worsens at all, we'll know something else is afoot. There are a few more mentioned remedies in my periodicals that might help. Once this awful heat passes, the symptoms should lessen. I feel we are in the peak of summer and therefore the peak of your troubles with this affliction.” “I may have a very temporary solution,” he says, touching his lips to the gardener's with a gentle kiss. “Oh yes?” Isaiah does not pull away, but murmurs against Elder's lips with something like reverence. His mind is racing. Images of what happened the night before and what might yet happen tumble together, bound by the common thread of the ticklishness in his nose. He sniffs, discreetly, but the itch only intensifies and he curses it's timing. “I- I am afraid I may start sneezing again...” He warns, uncomfortable. “That's why it's temporary,” Elder says, a smile playing across his lips as he presses them to Cartwright's. The man's pillowed lips are slightly dry from the strain of breathing through his mouth so much, but Elder whets them with a flick of his tongue, deepening the kiss. He feels his nose brush against the gardener's and the moist nostrils expand as the slight breeze of a congested inhale rushes across his cheek. Jacob releases the kiss just barely in time to avoid a ticklish sneeze from Isaiah. The sneeze looks to be followed by others, so Elder sits back, retrieving a clean handkerchief and readying it for the afflicted man. “Please don't be embarrassed,” he urges Isaiah, pushing back the man's thick hair and resting a soft hand on his brow. “Here.” He folds the handkerchief over Cartwright's twitching nose to catch the impending sneezes, pinching gently as to not cause any pain to the reddened nostrils. Caught off-guard, there is nothing Isaiah can do but double forwards into it. He might have tried to stifle to sound at least a little, but at that moment finds himself more preoccupied by simply getting the urge to abate. His head bobs against the handkerchief in Elder's hand, his breath warm. “--idtssh!-ittssh!-idtssh!- - -h'idtssh! Idtssh! IdtssSHuh!” The handkerchief lowers and Cartwright looks over it with an expression of relief, though it quickly gives way to one of frustration as his breath mounts again. His voice flickers and rises as he fights for speech- “Ah, I'm nn- I'm- ah- not done- -” The man barely finishes before launching into another fit of three and he grasps Elder's wrist to bring the cloth to his face again. “ 'tddssshuh! 'tdtsssh! iih—hh-- TSSHHuh!” In the aftermath he lies back with a quiet groan, too tired to do anything about the damp state of his nostrils and too miserable to care. He gives a long and thoroughly unmannerly sniffle and turns his head into the pillow before the other man can approach his nose with the handkerchief again. “Dod't, id's too sore.” He complains, almost petulantly. The display is so incredibly powerful and uncontrolled that Elder finds himself hardening at the mere brush of Isaiah's nose through the damp handkerchief. He blushes, ashamed at his body's immoral reaction to the man's suffering. “Love,” he coos, stroking a finger along Isaiah's spine. Cartwright's breath shudders as he takes a slow, congested inhale and Elder feels the spasm of his diaphragm against his fingertips. The poor man shouldn't be having such a violent reaction to a mere bouquet of flowers. Elder suspects that the forgetful maid, Anna, may have opened the windows in Isaiah's room against his instructions when she tidied up this morning. “There is a treatment described in my periodicals which involves wrapping the body in cool towels while the head is wrapped in warm towels and held over a bowl of boiled water so that the steam might be inhaled. There is also an application of paraffin and camphor that can be brushed into the nostrils to ease the swelling of the membranes.” He imagines the beautiful young gardener lying prone, swathed in thin white towels, their bodies close together. For a moment, his breath catches in his throat and he feels his face turning the color of beets. The thoughts are pushed from his head as Isaiah shifts to look at him. The man's eyes are red and swollen, with a thin film of tears coating his delicate lashes. Jacob cannot remember seeing anyone more lovely that his young man. Isaiah scrubs the back of his hand over his irritated eyes. As Elder strokes down his back again he gives a little shiver of pleasure. “Whatever you wish, although I fancy I could live without anything brushed in my -snf- nostrils, if it's all the same to you- I don't think I could stand it. It seems some of these treatments were proposed by someone who has never experienced this condition.” He cups a hand over his nose protectively, with a wry laugh. “It seems to have passed, but I feel a mere touch could set it off again.” With his he rolls onto his side the better to be close to his Lordship. The gardener's hair is tousled, lifted form his face and a few strands cling to his sweaty face, which he swipes off with an irritated gesture. His clothes are also charmingly disheveled and with a look that is thoughtful, almost coy, he sheds his suit jacket and loosens the top button of his shirt to reveal elegant collarbones. The skin here is pale, with a clean line where his tan ceases, indicating that Elder can see an inch of flesh that even the sunlight rarely sees. “If you don't mind.” He murmurs. “It's warm in here. Do you mind if I rest a moment? I don't think I am up to any more of your treatments just yet.” “Of course,” Elder agrees. “I don't want to cause your further discomfort if you feel it will only increase with the treatments. You are right to say that perhaps the men who developed these 'cures' are naïve to the true nature of the condition and the experience of it.” “Rest,” he adds, pushing back the voluminous sheets so that Isaiah can fully stretch out in the bed. The room does border on unbearably stuffy, with the windows and heavy drapes closed in a barrier against the outside irritants. Jacob sheds his own coat, tossing it to a chair opposite the bed, and unknots his cravat. His thick curly hair wilts in the heat; tendrils spilling down over his face. The exposed line of Cartwright's chest is tantalizing and he cannot help but press the tip of his thumb there, shifting the thin cotton further back against the gardener's shoulder, revealing his broad chest and the edge of a nipple. “Arms up,” he commands, his hands slipping to Isaiah's waist. “You'll be more comfortable if you are cooler.” He tugs the shirt loose from the waistband of Cartwright's trousers. The gardener responds without thinking, allowing Jacob to undress him as though he is a child. Well.... from the way the man's hands curve around the shape of his hip-bones, perhaps not exactly like a child. He feels himself hardening as Jacob's gaze rakes over his newly bare chest, taking him in. Isaiah's cheeks flush, suddenly burningly conscious of his body and the other man's eyes on him. After a long moment he reciprocates, though with none of Jacob's boldness. Tentatively, he undoes the top button of Jacob's shirt, and then another, his fingers shaking slightly with nerves and anticipation. Yet he looses his nerve at the third button and pauses, looking up at Jacob questioningly. “My Lord...?” “Jacob,” Elder replies. “Please.” He wants them to be equals here. From the moment they met, he's wished it were so. Cavorting with a hired gardener was slightly more difficult than another Lord who had no expectations on his time. Still, Jacob reminds himself that he is the Lord of this home and may divide Isaiah's time as he sees fit. The idea of that power thrills him a little. His soft hands take Cartwright's and together they guide his shirt off, so both men lie, bare chested, panting a little in the stuffy air. Jacob's body is leaner, softer, and less angled than the other man's. Though Cartwright feels more like a boy when clothed, Jacob looks more the part now. While bits of Isaiah's skin are darkened by sun, Elder is all pale, punctuated only by a few patches where a whisper of freckles dapple the ivory skin. Their skin touches as Jacob presses forward for a kiss. Cartwright is sweaty and warm with exertion from the strain his ailment. Elder tastes salt as he nips at the man's neck, kissing his way upwards to Isaiah's full lips. Isaiah turns his head to greet him and their lips meet in a long, lingering kiss. Something about the clean, faintly masculine scent of him draws Isaiah closer, and he closes his eyes, trusting. The taught muscles of his stomach kick as his breath comes quickly. At first Jacob's kiss renders Isaiah sweetly passive but as long minutes pass his confidence grows and his hands move from his side to explore the other man's bare skin. He traces a thumb along his collarbone with one hand whilst the other grips Jacob's forearm tightly, as though seeking an anchor. Then he stiffens. Before he has a chance to think, the itchiness in his nose flares up again and sets him gasping in preparation for another fit of sneezing. He pulls from the kiss at the last moment and barely manages a gulp of air before he averts his head to avoid the other man's face. He expects Jacob to pull away, but when he does not Isaiah finds himself smothering the outburst into the man's shoulder. “'Idtssh!-Idtssh!-Ittsschuh!” His nose bumps damply against Elder's skin, leaving a little trail of dampness. He turns a guilty expression up at Lord Elder, one hand rubbing at his eye. “I thought I'd finished with that, but ah- hh” His voice wavers irresistibly but he draws a deep breath to steady himself and pinches firmly at the bridge of his nose, quelling the urge enough to finish. “Apparently -ah- not...” Despite himself he ends on a questioning note, unsure how long he can restrain himself. His is eager to get back to kissing, but his nose has other ideas. As he holds Elder's gaze his nostrils flicker and his brows are arched upwards in an expression of hovering dread. Elder smiles, enamored. “Bless you,” he says nonchalantly, unbothered by Isaiah's damp nose against his shoulder. “It's okay; I've told you. If you need to sneeze, sneeze.” He is utterly charmed by the allergic man and his embarrassed expression. A soft fingertip strokes Cartwright's cheek, dangerously close to his sensitive nose.

“Poor love,” he coos, tracing the light stubble of Isaiah's chin. “It's so hot; I wonder if the servants accidentally opened your windows while they tended to your room this morning. The rest of the bedrooms were left open to the air. Perhaps I've failed in protecting that sensitive nose of yours. I'd say we could retire to my chamber, but they did the same in there.” He shifts slightly, his hips straining towards Cartwright as his arousal continues to grow at the sight of the young gardener. The tone of Elder's voice is so gentle, so heated that it sends a shudder of warmth into Isaiah's stomach. He is caught between feeling lusted after and deeply, deeply cared for, and the weight of Elder's concern sparks a depth of feeling in him which he can scarcely understand. It doesn't help that the man's questing fingertips create a gentle friction is his skin, heightening rather than soothing the irritation deep in his nose. “You worry too much... I'm fine h-here-” Cartwright only manages a second of calm before his breath scissors again. The itching grows to an unbearable pitch forcing his head down in another fit of shuddering sneezes which catch in his throat with a fierce, percussive force. “gtsh!-'gttsh!- hh-- iih- 'gtTSshuh!!” He looks up from his steepled hands, sniffling, to see Elder watching over him, feels the man's hand resting lightly on the small of his back. More than this, he senses Elder's eyes on him with a peculiar intensity. “It really doesn't bother you, does it?” He says, voice low with curiosity. “On the contrary,” Elder finds himself saying. “I think it's very charming. The way the body loses control; it's a rather primal reaction, to sneeze.” His erection is pressing against his trousers, burning urgently as he gazes at Isaiah's swollen, dripping nose. He allows it to brush briefly against the other man through the sheets, grunting as a tremor of excitement rushes up his limbs. “It's funny, how our bodies betray us,” he adds, blushing. “We can't help sneeze when we must sneeze, and we can't help feel what...well, what we feel.” His lips meet Isaiah's throat, kissing the delicate, warm flesh. “You're lovely,” he murmurs, his hips pressing unabashedly towards the man. “Even like this?” Isaiah has followed Elder's monologue with a creeping smile, and his tone is more teasing than incredulous, even as he dabs self-consciously at his nose with the handkerchief. "Even like this," Elder affirms. The nudge of Elder's hips against him has not escaped him, and nor has the fact that it corresponds with the bursts of sneezing. Comprehension blooms in him like one of his hot-house orchids, and he smiles, shyly. This encounter is not like any he has experienced before, but so much the better for that. Emboldened by the praise he moves his face down to Elder's collarbone and presses small nuzzling kisses against the smooth skin. Moving downwards, he takes the opportunity to rub his itchy nose against the firm flesh of Jacob's stomach, which does nothing at all to quell the fluttering, teasing ticklishness buried deep inside it, for all that it makes the other man squirm. “Hm, I wish I could tell what you smell like.” Isaiah murmurs, sniffing thickly. “As it is, I've no ide-ah-” His breath catches in a low, shivering inhale. “I think you're right. There must be something in the air in here. I can feel it right here-” One of Isaiah's fingertips pinpoints a spot high in his nose, to the left, as though he could scratch it through his skin. "I smell like aftershave, I imagine," Elder says softly. "And you smell like earth and soap and-" The words trail off as he feels the intake of Isaiah's breath rush across his skin like a warm summer breeze. This touch is his undoing, sparking his breath to a soft, chaotic “hih- ih-” of need. He has no time to even attempt to cover with his hands. Instead as Elder watches, the tawny head bucks down, smothering a wrenching sneeze just above his hip bone in an explosion of heat, dampness and contained force. “ii-GTSshhuh-uh!!” “Ugh, excuse me.” Isaiah murmurs, his voice thick but not at all sorry. He looks up at Elder, his face a clear question. As the sneeze explodes across his body, Elder shivers and very nearly moans aloud. His trousers feel uncomfortably tight and he fears another sneeze from the young man might shatter his control entirely. "Bless you," he manages to say, his voice low and husky. Reaching down, he thumbs the edge of the gardener's nose with a bit of the sheets as their eyes meet. Elder blushes scarlet, feeling the color spread even to his ears. He shifts downward so their faces are closer together and he lightly touches the waistband of Cartwright's trousers, tucking a thumb in against the man's hip. "May I?" he asks. “Please.” Isaiah breathes. Then he allows Elder to take him. At first he merely watches, passive, as Elder undresses him. All he can see is his own reflection in Elder's pupils as he is stripped naked, his own eagerness and vulnerability staring back at him though his body is stronger and more bulky than Elder's own. The scholar's hands induce a kind of trance in him, their interest at once passionate and curiously academic as they map his torso and then move lower, to where he is aching to be touched. Elder is clearly experienced, more experienced than Isaiah himself who only knows enough to know what he likes. He likes this. It is stiflingly warm and Elder's every touch sends a further rush of heat over him. A slight sweat springs over the plane of his back. The golden, sun-bleached hairs on his limbs rise. He averts his gaze for a moment, not wanting to Elder to notice that he is trembling like a taught wire with excitement and nerves. Isaiah would be utterly lost in the moment if it wasn't for the continued irritation in his nose. He can almost see the motes of pollen drifting on the heavy sunlit air, and it drives him mad. His breath comes in tight little snuffles, unsure whether he is trying to stave off the need or bring it on. He gives his partner an apologetic glance. His eyes are reddened, his voice liquid, scratchy and a tone lower than usual, though whether from lust or discomfort it is not clear. “Give me a moment, Jacob. I-” He pinches firmly at the tip of his nose. His nostrils flicker wildly against his fingers for a moment and his eyebrows arch, his lips hovering slightly open. Then he shakes his head. “It's gone.” He makes to continue, but something in Jacob's face stops him. He gives a puzzled smile. “If it didn't sound completely absurd-” He begins, breath catching in another shivering inhale he has to fight to contain. “I -ihh- -snf- I would say that this -hh- pleases you...” Elders hands are cupped around the top of Cartwright's angular hips, thumbs hooked over the waistband of his trousers as he slides the cloth down. His fingers brush the coarse hair at the bottom of Isaiah's belly and curve lower, along the trace of where his hipbone swells under muscle and skin. One hand moves to his own trousers, feeling dangerously close to the edge of losing all his control. When Isaiah sniffles and starts to breathe erratically, Elder goes still, body trembling in response. He blushes at the gardener's observation and leans forward, a finger stroking Cartwright's cock briefly. "It does," he says, his face going red. "I think you're magnificent and there's something very intoxicating about that poor nose of yours." The gardener bites his lower lip. Between Elder's teasing touch and his pollen-stricken nose he manages only a brief, incoherent murmur before his head shudders down in a fit of sneezes. “ii- GTSshhuh!-TSsch!-TSCsch!- ah.” In the frantic pause before the next set he gives Elder a shy smile through parted, panting lips and reaches for his hand, pressing it clumsily to his own face as he is overtaken again.“TSCh-TSch-Tdssch!” The force of them is hot and wet against Elder's finger, and he can feel the soft cartilage of the gardeners nose nuzzled hard against his fingers. It is the perfect counterpoint to the firm, deft motion of Cartwright's other hand as it finds Elder's erection in a deft, steady motion which becomes chaotic as his breath hitches again, distracting him. His voice is shivery and desperate as he leans into Elder's touch, desperately holding back another fit as he coaxes Elder towards his cock. “Please-” He murmurs. “If you're waiting for me to stop sneezing, I- hh- h'idtssh!- don't think I- -hh- can.” The mere brush of Cartwright's fingers coupled with his hitching breath and stammering speech nearly sends Elder over the edge immediately. He managed an incoherent groan as his own hand trails along Isaiah's face, pressing the wet, irritated nose upwards to help the gardener breathe more easily. "Poor...thing," he pants, his head resting against Cartwright's collarbone where he kisses and nibbles at the tanned skin. His free hand strokes Cartwright in the same rhythm his other massages the man's nose. Fireworks are blossoming in his eyes, his brain a jumble of exhilarated ecstasy and amazement that this is happening. His hips pump into Cartwright's willing hand, straining for more. Still, he's polite and murmurs "You can rest if you need to. Tell me what you need." “You.” Cartwright murmurs. “I need you.” He allows himself to crumple under their combined weight, falling backwards onto the bed so that Elder lays atop him. The man is slight but his pressure on the gardener's chest is smothering and burning hot. Isaiah's hips are nudging up at him of their own accord. He's making the same dry, shallow gasps he's been making all day as the rose-cold drove him to distraction, but throatier and more desperate. His lips are getting as red and chapped as his nose, rubbed raw from Elder's kisses, but he doesn't seem to mind. A rush of heat floods Elder's face as he presses another kiss to Cartwright's mouth, their noses edged side to side. Isaiah's is wet and warm against Elder's, with a thin stream of humid breath wheezing outward along Elder's cheek. He turns his face, allowing Isaiah to breathe through his mouth again, both men gasping and groaning softly. His hands slip under Cartwright's muscled back, down to the curve of his bottom, tugging their hips impossibly close together as he rocks forward against the man, his erection sliding against the Cartwright's. "I need you too," he says, leaning forward with an eager thrust. Isaiah's face is contorted in a strange expression that Elder cannot decipher as an impending sneeze or an impending climax, though Cartwright's nose is looking incredibly raw and swollen now. His toes curl at the thought of either reaction. Isaiah isn't sure himself. He rubs his nose frustratedly against Elder's shoulder, desperate for some relief from the distracting itch. Wet lips nuzzle deeper into the man's neck, reveling in the feel of skin and taut muscle as their bodies thrust together. Truth be told, he can hardly bear more of either sensation. His lordship has a knack for finding the most sensitive spots, the perfect grip so like and unlike his own, and he is perilously close to coming. Still, it is the irritation of lingering pollen in the back of his nose which conspires to set him gasping again. His voice is a husky whisper, interspersed with light, delicate kisses to the corner's of Elder's mouth. “My l-Lord, I-” “I think I'm going to st- to sn-sneeze again- I can try to stop but I- hh- sorry-” His hazel eyes widen with his unspoken concerns; firstly that if he begins sneezing he may loose all control and come before he's fully enjoyed the encounter, and second that despite Elder's attention his nose is running freely down his upper lip. Sniffling is only doing so much and the resulting sneezes are bound to be wet. Elder's reply is ragged, muddled by the rush of electric jolts coursing in his body, jumbling everything. He tugs Isaiah, stroking and stroking, his own erection now pumping alongside his hands as he thrusts against Cartwright. "It's okay," he gasps. "Please...please..."

He is so incredibly close that he knows a single sneeze from his beloved gardener will put him over the edge. He works his hands the best he can to bring the other man equally close and he can tell he's done a good job. For a moment, both of their bodies tense, muscle against muscle, breath pouring raggedly from their lips as their cheeks press side by side. Elder bends his neck to tuck Isaiah's poor nose against the soft bend of his jawline, feeling the damp trail of irritation flooding from the man's upper lip. The day's stubble on his chin delicately brushes the tip of the gardener's nose and he feels a rapid intake of breath.

He closes his eyes, his whole body ready to explode.

"It's okay," he repeats, giving Isaiah a firm stroke and thrusting himself along the other man's shaft. "Please."

For a fraction of a second, Isiah looks up at him. Their eyes meet, pale green bloodshot ones to chestnut brown, and as Isaiah's head bobs down into Jacob's neck with the first buildup of a sneeze, and from Jacob's throat emits a low, urgent moan. Cartwright's nostrils are wet and scrubbed scarlet, flaring wide as he draws an anticipatory breath. In that moment his gaze is intense, understanding, and with a tiny nod of assent his eyes flutter shut, breath heaving-

“hhhh- tdssch! Tdsshuh!-TDSSCHuh! hg-” he wavers, chest heaving, expression caught between desire and panic. “TSCH!-TSCH!!--h'TSCHiuuh!”

They could not be further from the tight, polite little sneezes of earlier in the day. His body bucks against Elder, the force of the reaction tightening muscles he didn't know he had. His breath shudders and he makes a desperate, aching little sound as he breathes deeply, coaxing the sneezes out. His face presses unrestrainedly against Elder's neck, simply desperate for the relief it gives him and the minute touch of stubble seems to spark something deep in his sinuses and tips him over the edge again. Jacob's hips work faster as he comes, his whole torso shivering as he gasps, grunting and growling as Isaiah continues to sneeze. Every single piece of his body is burning red-hot like glowing coals.

“ighhSCh! hh- h- GTSH! Ig'GXTSH-u! – ih... ah...hh- hh'GTSHuuh!”

Isaiah can barely get a breath before he comes hard with an exhausted whimper. Beside him, Jacob cries out and collapses backwards, shaking with a few brief aftershocks as the handsome gardener wilts alongside, both of them utterly spent.

The ragged breathing against his neck turns his attention away from the sleepy wave of bliss washing over Jacob's body and instead he rolls over to assess his darling gardener.

The poor man's face is streaked with congestion and sweat. With delicate fingers, Jacob picks the corner of the sheet up and carefully wipes Isaiah's nose, careful not to be too rough. Then, he presses his lips to Cartwright's brow and tucks his head down afterward so their foreheads meet.

"Love," he mutters, a hand raking through Cartwright's hair. "Tell me what you need. You've given me everything tonight. How can I make you feel better? How about a bath? Or do you want to try to sleep?"

His gardener curls in close, bending his head under the caress and smiling. He patiently allows Elder to wipe his nose and then takes over himself with the handkerchief, finally able to give a really good blow. Then he reaches up and lays a broad, sinewy hand over Elder's own. He laces their fingers together, stilling them.

"Thank you. You worry too much, Jacob." He whispers. His voice is hoarse and almost gone but he still manages to sound content. "I feel wonderful... I mean, I can barely breathe but I feel... better. Though maybe a bath, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," Elder says, rising from the bed, his lean body silhouetted in the dim room. He strides over to the wardrobe to retrieve his silk dressing gown but then realizes they are not in his room at all and laughs.

"I was going to ring for Bishop but I don't believe he'll survive answering a call from me like this!"

He picks up the quilt from the bed and wraps it around his shoulders. Leaning forward, he plants a kiss on Cartwright's brow.

"I'll be right back."

With a careful peek out into the hallway before he goes, he rushes off towards his own room and returns a moment later in his robe, another draped over his arm.

"I've rung for a bath to be drawn in my private washroom. It should be ready in a few minutes. Until then, this is for you. Something a bit more comfortable, I think."

He sets the silk robe down next to Cartwright and sides up into the bed on the opposite side of the man, curling his arms around the gardener's broad chest. The sleepy glow from their heated encounter has taken hold of Elder and he nuzzles into Isaiah's neck.

"I may just have to join you," he teases. "It's a rather massive washtub and I think a bit of warm water will send me right off."

“Please do.”

Isaiah luxuriates in the embrace for a while, drawing Elder into him with a gentle arm. One hand traces idle circles over the plane of the scholar's back, admiring the pale skin and the tracery of visible muscle now at rest. He would be perfectly contented, if it was not for his eyes, which even now he can feel swelling closed. Between his puffy lids and the dark circles underneath he has the look of a man who has cried himself to sleep, at odds with the smile on his lips. He scratches tentatively underneath them, swiping away moisture.

“Bishop will think you have driven me to tears. Still, my nose is better, I think.”

At length he rises, draws the robe around himself and allows Elder to guide him to the bathroom. Isaiah feels very exposed walking almost naked through the oak-paneled corridors, past venerable furniture under the watchful eyes of portraits, and is grateful to close the door behind them. The tub is waiting, brimful of steaming water. He is suddenly, painfully aware of how grimy he is with body fluids of various kinds and it doesn't take much coaxing from Elder to have him strip off and slide himself unto the bath.

Pinching his nose, he ducks his head under the water to submerge himself completely, hoping to wash the last of the pollen away. The water stings his eyes for a moment, but the sensation subsides quickly when he surfaces. His dripping hair is plastered to his head but he shakes it from his eyes with a shower of droplets that catch the light of the late afternoon sun.

“You could join me,” he says coyly, “if you wanted to.”

Elder sits on the edge of the tub and reaches down to get a cupped handful of water, letting it run down Isaiah's broad chest. He rubs the gardener's shoulders for a moment before agreeing that he does want to join in. Shifting Cartwright forward, he lets his robe slide off onto the tiled floor and climbs into the tub behind the other man so that Cartwright can recline against him. Elder's long legs wrap around the side of Cartwright's, their feet both pressed to the end of the tub. He leans back against the edge of the cast iron rim and allows Isaiah's head to fall against his shoulder, where it rests heavily.

He kisses the top of Isaiah's head and pours more handfuls of water over his thick hair, massaging the man's scalp with slow, luxurious circles. There's a square of flannel on the edge of the tub and Elder wets and wrings it out, using it to wash off Isaiah's chest and arms. Then, he tilts the gardener's head back and very carefully tends to his swollen face.

He submits to Elder's attentions without a whimper, though something about the friction prompts him to give just one swift, ticklish sneeze “-idtsshuh!”- directly into the cloth, his head bobbing fractionally under Elder's hand. He draws a breath and mentally prepares himself for another fit but it doesn't come and he laughs, relieved.

“I'm worlds better. You seem to have found one cure at least.”

With this he relaxes back into Jacob's arms. Their bodies conform perfectly to each other and he is cradled, floating slightly in the cool water. His head settles into Jacob's shoulder once more, finding a perfect haven in the space between the man's shoulder and neck. The slight steam in the bathroom has relieved the ache in his sinuses to only a dull, snuffly tightness and the itchiness in his nose is gone at least for now.

One hand strokes up and down Elder's thigh, relishing the silken feel of it under the water, then it stills as his fingers fall slack. He is nearly falling asleep.

With a slight smile, Elder twines his fingers with Isaiah's and rests his cheek on the top of the man's thick hair.

"I'm very glad, love," he says. He's relieved to see the gardener at last able to have some peace.

After a few moments, Cartwright in limp in Jacob's arms, snoring very quietly. Not wishing to disturb the man's precious sleep, Elder remains still until the water grows too chilly and his legs start to go numb.

"Isaiah," he says gently, stroking the man's arm. "You should get out before you catch a chill."

Several fluffy towels wait on a stool nearby along with their dressing gowns.

“What, in case I start sneezing? Imagine that.” Isaiah teases.

Still, a superficial shiver makes the small hairs on his limbs stand up and he is glad to haul himself out of the water.

He helps Elder to rise and soon the pair are dried off, wrapped in their gowns and set out to dry in two chairs looking out of the window over the grounds. The setting sun catches the top of Elder's oak trees and turns the lawns gold for just a moment.

At length, Isaiah turns to his host.

“You know, when you explained that it was something in your grounds afflicting me, I thought that I couldn't possibly stay and work here. But somehow...” He gives Elder a shy smile. “If you'll have me, I am beginning to think it would be worth my while to stay.”

"I will have you stay, work or no work," Elder says. "And you can still plan the gardens from the safety of the house, I think. Either way, I'd be beyond happy to keep you here. You've brought me much joy, Mr. Cartwright."

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microphonebully · 6 years ago

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July 15th @therealjuswriteiow ”F*** Fame” video release concert. Tavern lounge (Location 97-07 Jamaica Ave Woodhaven) $10 admission 🚨💻 Follow @microphonebully @bigbrotherbiz @beathoganmusic @longlivembtv and @itsskyhi It’s All About Growth #MbMediaAndDesign #Producer #Producers #hiphopblog #hiphopwebsite #musicblog #musicwebsite #Production #Studio #Artwork #HipHopMusic #press #Beats #Rapper #Mpc2000 #MaschineStudio #GraphicDesign #HipHop #television #webseries #video #HipHopArtist #Nyc #NycArtist #Streetwear #FashionBlog #Fashion

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jobsearchtips02 · 5 years ago

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Huge day as Detroit Three restart at least 51 plants shuttered given that March by coronavirus

Best-in-class towing, brand-new features and comfort spearhead Chevy’s medium-duty truck assault on Ram HD and Ford Super Task pickups.

Detroit Free Press

Prior to dawn on Monday, tens of countless autoworkers will head back to work at factories in Detroit, Chicago, Toledo, Louisville and Kansas City as the Detroit 3 begin building lorries once again.

Shuttered because late March since of the coronavirus, with per hour and salaried employees sheltering at home, cash-starved companies are eager to safely get the lines running. Now the companies are rebooting plants throughout The United States and Canada.

” Some individuals are eagerly anticipating coming back and some individuals are worried. It’s a balance between the 2,” said Bernie Ricke, president of UAW Resident 600, which represents employees at the Ford Rouge complex.

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” I think the companies are doing whatever they can to secure individuals’s health and safety,” he said Sunday, noting that employees at Dearborn Truck will work 2 10- hour shifts when they usually work three shifts building the popular Ford F-150 pickup.

Ford, General Motors and Fiat Chrysler have actually executed new security procedures that consist of thermal scanning for high temperatures, day-to-day employee studies that screen for symptoms, deal with masks.

While the companies state they plan to stagger plant activity, the list of producing factories is staggering.

GM plants opening Monday

Bay City Powertrain

Bedford Casting Operations

CAMI Assembly in Ingersoll, Ontario

Defiance Casting Operations in Ohio

Flint Assembly

Flint Engine

Fort Wayne Assembly in Roanoke, Indiana

GMCH Grand Rapids

GMCH Kokomo in Indiana

GMCH Rochester in New York

Lansing Delta Assembly

Orion Assembly in Lake Orion

Toledo Transmission in Ohio

Tonawanda Engine Plant in New York

Romulus Engine

Saginaw Metal Casting Operations

Spring Hill Manufacturing in Tennessee

Toledo Transmission in Ohio

Wentzville Assembly in Missouri

GM spokesperson Jim Cain stated the above plants will start with one-shift and in total about 12,000 hourly and employed people will be on the job across the plants starting Tuesday.

Previous reports noted GM’s Arlington plant as beginning this week, but GM said it will now begin later on in the month. Cain said the restart at Arlington was pressed back based on timing of expected provider shipments however, “it will follow quickly.”

Schedules for GM plants in Silao and San Luis Petosi in Mexico are pending, he stated.

Likewise opening later on this month, the week of May 25, GM’s Bowling Green plant in Kentucky, which builds the Corvette and Corvette engines.

Fiat Chrysler plants opening Monday

Jefferson North Assembly Plant in Detroit

Sterling Heights Assembly Plant

Sterling Stamping Plant

Toledo Assembly Complex in Ohio

Toledo Machining Plant

Trenton Engine Complex

Warren Stamping Plant

Warren Truck Assembly Plant

FCA’s seven plants in Saltillo and Toluca, Mexico, likewise are scheduled to reboot Monday subject to governmental approval for the vehicle market.

On Tuesday, FCA will open the Brampton Assembly Plant in Brampton, Ontario, Canada and the Windsor Assembly Plant in Ontario, Canada.

” Operating jointly with the UAW, our workers have worked tirelessly for the previous a number of weeks to execute a detailed, multilayered program of improved safety measures developed to safeguard our workers,” Mark Stewart, primary running officer, FCA North America, informed the Free Press in a prepared declaration Sunday.

” Progressively rebooting our operations will be a welcome indication of getting back to typical and for this reason, every decision we have actually made about rebooting our operations has actually been focused on putting the health and wellness of our employees initially,” he stated.

On May 26, FCA will open:

Dundee Engine Plant

Indiana Transmission Plant 1 in Kokomo, Indiana

Kokomo Casting Plant

Kokomo Transmission Plant

Tipton Transmission Plant in Indiana

Then on June 1, FCA will open its Belvidere Assembly Plant and Belvidere Satellite Stamping Plant in Illinois, and the Etobicoke Casting Plant in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

More: US auto industry preps for reboot– and it all depends upon Mexico

Ford plants opening Monday

Chicago Assembly Plant

Dearborn Truck Plant

Flat Rock Assembly

Kansas City Assembly in Claycomo, Missouri

Kentucky Truck Plant in Louisville, Kentucky

Louisville Assembly Plant

Michigan Assembly Plant in Wayne

Ohio Assembly Plant in Avon Lake

Woodhaven Forging

Dearborn Engine and Fuel Tank

Cleveland Engine Plant in Ohio

Lima Engine Plant in Ohio

Rawsonville Parts Plant

Romeo Engine Plant

Buffalo Stamping Plant in New York City

Chicago Stamping Plant

Dearborn Diversified Manufacturing Plant

Dearborn Tool and Pass Away

Dearborn Stamping Plant

Woodhaven Stamping Plant

Livonia Transmission Plant

Sharonville Transmission Plant in Ohio

Sterling Axle Plant

Van Dyke Transmission

Strategies to open Ford operations in Mexico remain fluid. The Cuautitlan Stamping and Assembly and the Hermosillo Stamping and Assembly plan to open Monday pending government approval.

On Tuesday, the Windsor and Essex Engine Plants in Ontario, Canada open. Later on Ford will open the Flat Rock Assembly Plant and Oakville Assembly in Ontario, Canada, on May 26.

Kelli Felker, Ford global manufacturing and interactions supervisor, stated, “We are eagerly anticipating inviting our employees back to our centers with all of the proper security procedures in location to keep them healthy and safe in the office.”

More: GM predicts it will be back to full production in about 4 weeks

More: UAW leader ‘encouraged’ by Ford plants’ security procedures as resume date thought about

More: What occurs in Mexico during next 2 weeks will be important for Detroit

150,000 strong

UAW President Rory Gamble, who has actually been cautious and worried about hurrying to restart prematurely, said Sunday the companies and their workers are all set. The UAW represents an estimated 150,000 members used by the Detroit 3 in the U.S. and Canada.

” We want to thank the many UAW members who have actually worked so hard throughout the shutdown to keep the plants ready for today, in addition to members who have worked to reconfigure plants for the safety of all,” Gamble stated in ready remarks.

” The UAW will continue to do whatever we can to safeguard the health and safety of all members as plants resume,” he stated. “And we will continue to advocate for as much screening as possible and full testing as it appears.”

Contact Phoebe Wall Howard at 313-222-6512 or [email protected] Follow her on Twitter @phoebesaid Register for our cars newsletter

Read or Share this story: https://www.freep.com/story/money/cars/2020/05/18/ ford-gm-fiat-chrysler-restart-plants-u-s-canada-mexico-amid-covid/5209746002/

from Job Search Tips https://jobsearchtips.net/huge-day-as-detroit-three-restart-at-least-51-plants-shuttered-given-that-march-by-coronavirus/

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latinnerdcosplayer · 5 years ago

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Getting ready for my first katsucon ever and would be joining with @cosvoid as press I will be taking pics. If anyone wants me to take any pics hit me up. I will be in my cosplay but I will be multi tasking. #cosplay #cosplayers #malecosplayer #cosplayer #femalecosplayer #femalecosplay #malecosplay #cosplaying #cosplayofinstagram #cosplayofig #cosplayphotography #cinematography #photography #cosplayphotoshoot #katsucon #katsucon2020 (at Woodhaven, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8MbRYNjyH4/?igshid=dglelhs386pd

#cosplay #cosplayers #malecosplayer #cosplayer #femalecosplayer #femalecosplay #malecosplay #cosplaying #cosplayofinstagram #cosplayofig #cosplayphotography #cinematography #photography #cosplayphotoshoot #katsucon #katsucon2020

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theanticool · 6 years ago

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“A hall of fame Ultimate Fighting Championship fighter, a boxer, a cage fighter and a mixed martial artist were implicated Thursday in a $112 million health-care conspiracy, one day after a muscle-bound doctor was indicted by a federal grand jury.

The conspiracy involves Burns and others soliciting and receiving illegal kickbacks and bribes in return for referring urine samples and drug tests to unidentified laboratories.

According to federal prosecutors, the conspiracy involves Dr. Frank Patino, a Woodhaven doctor who was indicted Wednesday and accused of orchestrating a $112 million health-care scheme and using some of the money to sponsor professional boxers and fighters.

Patino, who is jailed without bond, bankrolled his self-styled "Patino Diet" with money generated by the conspiracy, and sponsored boxers, MMA and Ultimate Fighting Championship fighters, investigators allege. His stable of sponsored fighters included hall of fame UFC fighter Urijah Faber, according to a 2013 press release.

Patino hid the kickbacks and bribes by entering into sham contracts or employment relationships, prosecutors allege. Some of the money generated by the conspiracy, including more than $100,000, was spent advertising the "Patino Diet" through sponsorship of boxers, MMA and UFC fighters, prosecutors allege.

Burns, who registered JHB Medical Management Company in Michigan, caused Medicare to pay more than $2.6 million for urine drug tests that were procured through illegal kickbacks and bribes, according to prosecutors....”

Holy crap. We got a scheme.

The unidentified “UFC Champion” is probably Urijah Faber btw.

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davidpwilson2564 · 4 years ago

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Bloglet

Thursday, June 3, 2021

Foot pain in the night. Terrible. Don’t fall asleep until (almost) dawn. This changes everything. No longer go to my desk at 9:00, as I had been doing (pretty much) for years.

Note: Something like 450 people are charged of taking part in the insurrection. Maybe of them turned in by irate ex-es. A whole bunch of Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, Three Per Centers, etc.

Pence appears to be running for president. Trump, his blog now shut down, is going to begin his rallies. Taking his show on the road. For smaller towns in red states...an evening of entertainment...

Note that Trump’s friends are telling him he’ll be back in the White House (”reinstated”) once the vote recounts are concluded.

Friday, June 4, 2021

Trump is to make a speech tomorrow night in North Carolina. Get out those red hats. The best show in town.

Very nice day. Errands. Later, salvos of thunder and pounding rain. And then it all stops, as if it never began.

Saturday, June 5, 2021

I go out to Queens on the train. It takes me to Woodhaven Blvd and the Queens Center (much changed over the years...sort of...my old stomping grounds). Decide to walk to the site of the Queens Symphony concert in Juniper Valley Park (we used to play there with George Seuffert). Set out. Lose my bearings as I discover the park is more of a hike than I anticipated. But press on and find the concert site.

Marginalia: Recalling how the locals pronounce Penelope (as in Penelope Street). Often it comes out PEN-e-lope.

Concert. Hot weather but not unbearably so. Kenichi makes a speech. He has become quite good at public speaking. As the music is played there is the compliment of ambient noise. Arhythmical barking of a big dog. The Mr. Soffee melody, always during the afternoon’s only oboe solo. Planes en route to Laguardia (and remembering how loud they were at the [then called Shea] baseball stadium).

Home without incident but terrible but foot soreness in the night. I must do something about this. .

to be continued

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therealimintobooks · 3 years ago

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Book Tour Featuring *Trouble Brewing* by Heather Day Gilbert @heatherdgilbert @dollycas #giveaway

Trouble Brewing (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery) by Heather Day Gilbert About Trouble Brewing Trouble Brewing (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery) Cozy Mystery 5th in Series Publisher ‏ : ‎ WoodHaven Press (October 18, 2021) Number of Pages: (not finalized) Approx 200 Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0916DR5WL Convinced that the elderly lady in her care didn’t die of natural causes, Macy’s friend Della…

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#Cozy Mystery

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jenniferfaye34 · 5 years ago

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#Giveaway ~ No Filter (A Barks & Beans Cafe Mystery) by Heather Day Gilbert... #books #CozyMysyery #dogs #readers

No Filter (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery) by Heather Day Gilbert

About No Filter

No Filter (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery) Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Publisher: WoodHaven Press (May 26, 2020) Number of Pages: ~280 Pages Digital ASIN: B085BX4N96

Welcome to the Barks & Beans Cafe, a quaint place where folks pet shelter dogs while enjoying a cup of java...and where murder sometimes pays a visit.

Fed up with her go-nowhere job, newly single Macy Hatfield moves back to her small hometown in West Virginia. She joins forces with her brother Bo in his crazy new venture—the Barks & Beans Cafe, which caters to dog lovers and coffee drinkers alike.

When a golf instructor is murdered at the nearby spiritual center, Macy winds up adopting his Great Dane. Just after Macy finds a mysterious message sewn under the dog's collar, her Dane is dognapped. She launches into a relentless search for her newfound canine friend, but along the way, she digs up a cruel and confident killer.

Join siblings Macy and Bo Hatfield as they sniff out crimes in their hometown...with plenty of dogs along for the ride! The Barks & Beans Cafe cozy mystery series features a small town, an amateur sleuth, and no swearing or graphic scenes.

The Barks & Beans Cafe cozy mystery series in order: Book 1: No Filter Book 2: Iced Over

About Heather Day Gilbert

HEATHER DAY GILBERT, an ECPA Christy award finalist and Grace award winner, writes contemporary mysteries and Viking historicals. Her novels feature small towns, family relationships, and women who aren't afraid to protect those they love. Like her amateur sleuth heroines, she enjoys reading Agatha Christie, playing video games, dogs, and coffee. Author Links Website: http://heatherdaygilbert.com Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/heatherdaygilbert Twitter: @heatherdgilbert Instagram: @heatherdaygilbert Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/heather-day-gilbert Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7232683.Heather_Day_Gilbert

Purchase - Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway TOUR PARTICIPANTS May 26 – The Book Decoder – REVIEW May 26 – Mysteries with Character – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 26 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews – SPOTLIGHT May 26 – Diane Reviews Books – CHARACTER GUEST POST May 27 – The Avid Reader – REVIEW May 27 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT May 27 – Moonlight Rendezvous – REVIEW May 27 – The Book Diva's Reads – CHARACTER GUEST POST May 28 – My Reading Journeys – REVIEW May 28 – Books a Plenty Book Reviews – REVIEW May 28 – Hearts & Scribbles – SPOTLIGHT May 28 – The Power of Words – REVIEW May 29 – Christy's Cozy Corners – REVIEW May 29 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT May 29 – Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT May 29 – MJB Reviewers – REVIEW May 30 – Baroness' Book Trove – REVIEW May 30 – Laura's Interests – REVIEW May 30 – Gimme The Scoop Reviews – SPOTLIGHT May 31 – Brianne's Book Reviews – REVIEW May 31 – I'm Into Books – SPOTLGHT May 31 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, AUTHOR INTERVIEW June 1 – eBook Addicts – REVIEW June 1 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR INTERVIEW June 1 – Reading Authors Network – REVIEW June 2 – Melina's Book Blog – REVIEW June 2 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW June 2 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here Find Details and Sign Up Today!

#No Filter #A Barks and Beans Cafe Mystery #Heather Day Gilbert #Cozy Mystery #Great Escapes Book Tours #Hearts & Scribbles

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bigyack-com · 5 years ago

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Married E.R. Workers Fear the Worst: What Would Happen to Their Son?

A few nights ago, after their 18-month-old son Nolan went to sleep, Adam Hill and Neena Budhraja sat down on the living room couch in their apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Pen and paper in hand, they turned their attention to a pressing need: figuring out who would be Nolan’s legal guardian if the coronavirus swept them away.They aren’t just anxious parents. Adam, 37, is an emergency room doctor at Elmhurst Hospital Center in Queens. Neena, 39, is a physician assistant in the emergency room at Woodhull Medical and Mental Health Center in Brooklyn.Elmhurst and Woodhull are among the New York City public hospitals that have been most overwhelmed by the virus, and for the past month, the couple’s days and nights have been a blur of intubating terrified patients, navigating stretchers in crowded hallways and searching for clean equipment.The pandemic is putting unimagined strain on medical workers, exposing them to dangers and emotional stress unlike anything they have ever experienced. At least 100,000 people in the city, and probably many more, have been infected with the virus. More than 13,500 have died of the virus or are presumed to have, at least 26 of them public hospital employees.Adam reads a Facebook page for emergency health care workers and sees how everyone is struggling. One couple sent their children to live with relatives. Another doctor has decamped to his basement, where he Facetimes with his children upstairs. Yet another is living at an airport hotel.Adam and Neena don’t have those options. They take turns diving into harm’s way and then returning to each other and to Nolan. Neena has thought about quitting, and then lashed herself for doing so. “I would feel like I am abandoning everyone,” she said.She paused, and then added: “But it's not so simple.”One of Adam’s emergency room colleagues at Elmhurst died in the past week. Neena recently showed up for a Sunday shift to learn that a longtime colleague had died after battling the virus for two weeks.The woman left behind a daughter, a freshman in college. Before she learned she had been infected, Neena’s colleague told her that what worried her most was that she might bring the virus home and make her family sick.Neena had the same worry. They all do.“It’s all very emotional and it’s already such a stressful time to have that on top of everything else,” Neena said. Since the woman’s death, a second colleague and a retired one have died of the virus as well.

An Adrenaline-Fueled Life

The couple met while working in the emergency room at Woodhull, a hulking public hospital that towers over a set of elevated subway tracks at the intersection of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Bushwick and South Williamsburg.Adam is from a large family in Southern Illinois. His brother was a Marine in Iraq and served with the Navy in Afghanistan. Adam views himself as a similar kind of grunt, although one who heals sick patients.Neena, who grew up in Woodhaven, Queens, graduated from one of the city’s top public high schools, Brooklyn Technical High School, and then from the City College of New York. Her parents moved to New York from New Delhi in the 1970s just a few years before she was born.She and Adam were married in 2017, and they lived the kind of high-adrenaline life favored by so many who work in emergency rooms, where they have spent their entire careers. They trekked to Machu Picchu and then climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.They grew accustomed to what Neena called the “predictable unpredictability” of E.R. life. A drunk patient once landed a karate chop to Adam’s chest. An intubation tube sprayed bloody sputum into Neena’s eye. Because the patient it was attached to was H.I.V. positive, Neena took anti-H.I.V. medication for a month as a precaution.She was nearly four months pregnant at the time.Nolan was born three months premature with fragile lungs that put him at high risk of infection. He weighed just 1.5 pounds. Fearful for his health, Adam and Neena had only recently begun to take him to playgrounds. Then the virus hit, and the family hunkered down again.To Adam, it was clear by early March that something was wrong. Men in their 30s and 40s who were otherwise healthy were showing up at the E.R. with fevers or trouble breathing. They would deteriorate rapidly, gasping for air within a few hours.A few weeks ago, he said, he felt “overwhelmed but pretty optimistic, that we will get through this, and I still have that same optimism. But it is definitely becoming clouded by fatigue.”“Also, there’s a sort of looming shadow over … ” His voice trailed off as he began to choke up.The hospital recently installed huge fans in the emergency room to suck out dirty air and hopefully keep the virus from spreading. The fans are “so, so loud,” Adam said. Alarms go off constantly from equipment that is monitoring the breathing of patients on ventilators. Adam wears a respirator that a friend bought him at Sherwin Williams. He and his colleagues are losing their voices from yelling over the noise of the fans and the alarms and trying to be heard through the equipment covering their faces that muffles their voices.“It’s sadly comical,” he said.At Woodhull, Neena puts on her own armor. She covers her scrubs with a gown that hides her wrists. Her long black hair is tied in a bun. She wears an N95 mask, a face shield, a cap and gloves. She uses the same face mask for two straight shifts, instead of changing it between patients as standard protocol calls for.When her shift ends, she tapes her N95 mask to the inside of her locker, and wipes down her face shield and stethoscope with alcohol. She changes out of her scrubs in a bathroom, leaves her sneakers and takes a packed subway or bus home. The trains are uncomfortably crowded these days because of the drastic service cuts since the outbreak began.When she gets to the apartment, she runs away from Nolan, throws her airtight bag of dirty scrubs into the laundry room — where they will sit for at least 48 hours before she washes them — and takes a shower.Until early last month, which seems so long ago, the couple had the typical routine of exhausted young parents: juggling work schedules with child care, one covering the other’s day off. When they were home at the same time, they would put Nolan in his stroller and walk through nearby McCarren Park.Neena’s mother helped out sometimes, but that stopped because of the virus. So it is just the three of them now.Adam’s sleep is terrible. Sometimes, Neena moves to the couch in the middle of the night so that she doesn’t wake him.Late at night, he scrolls through a Facebook group of fellow emergency room doctors. One doctor wears gloves and a mask in his own home to protect his family.“I read these and it makes me second guess myself,” Adam said. “But only for a few seconds.”

Thoughts of Quitting

The day Neena learned of her emergency room colleague’s death was the worst so far. She called it a turning point for Woodhull: the overcrowded emergency room, the lack of isolation rooms, the hallways jammed with people on stretchers waiting days for a spot in intensive care to open up.“It just felt like a battlefield,” she recalled. “It felt like everybody was on vents and everyone was so sick and there was no room and wasn’t enough staff. It was very chaotic.”Emergency room staff members are used to seeing their interventions make a difference. Now, she said, “it feels like you are not making any progress.”When she came home that day, she told Adam that maybe she should quit.“But then what — Adam would live in a hotel and I wouldn’t see him for months?” she said. “He wouldn’t see his son for months? To take him away from him, when he comes home looking shellshocked after every shift, it doesn’t feel right. ”“There comes some guilt too,” she said, choking back tears. “This need to help all these people, but at same time what if doing so you are hurting your own family? It’s tough.”If anything were to happen to Nolan, Neena said, “it would be devastating.”So they all take their temperatures twice a day and hope for the best. On their days off together, they take Nolan to the park.The night they sat on the couch ironing out a will and deciding on a guardian for Nolan, they had to go three deep: Who would take care of Nolan if the appointed guardian died? Who would take care of him if the second relative also died?They wonder if Neena and Nolan were infected in mid-February, when they both had low fevers, body aches and dry coughs. Neena acknowledged that this could be “wishful thinking.”On Tuesday, the couple spoke via FaceTime to a lawyer who was taking the old bank statement they had scrawled the information for a will on and turning it into a proper legal document.They have always planned to practice emergency medicine their entire careers, possibly someplace smaller than New York. Dealing with the pandemic, they said, had only strengthened their commitment.Over the past 10 days, they have seen a steady decline in new virus patients at their hospitals. But the fear that they will get sick remains, particularly as colleagues test positive. And doctors at Elmhurst worry that if people stop social distancing too soon, a second wave of cases will inundate the hospital.A few days ago, after Neena left at 6:30 a.m. for her 12-hour shift, Adam got out of bed, gave Nolan his bottle and breakfast and let him run wild around the apartment.“It usually gives me enough time to make a coffee and sit down,” he said.But this time, he said, he found himself “crying uncontrollably, just finally letting out all the emotions from the past month.”“Right when I am crying he happens to crawl up on the couch and put himself in my lap and started talking nonsense,” he continued. “It just brought me back.”“If I didn’t have Nolan and Neena here to be with and sort of remember why we do all this to begin with, it would be much more difficult than it already is.” Read the full article

#Fear #happen #health #HealthNews #married #son #Workers #worst

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the-record-columns · 7 years ago

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Oct. 25, 2025: Columns

Del Monte coffee?

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Some time ago, I wrote a piece about the seemingly endless variety of patent medicine remedies manufactured and sold nationally during the early 1900’s by the Brame Drug Store. It is truly fun and fascinating to read the labels of these various medicines with names like Vapomentha Salve, which competed head to head for years with Vick’s Vapo Rub. Others included, Brame’s Pain Knocker; Lime Water, an antacid; Fematone, the great regulator for girls and women; Rheuma-Lax for aches, pains and rheumatic fever; the ever popular Castor Oil; and my personal favorite,Brame’s Laxative Cold Tablets.

Since spending all those days in the attic and the cellar of the old Brame building on Main Street, I have found myself looking more and more at old jars and bottles, particularly those with paper labels. Most are common and far less than unusual, but I want to share a couple of what I consider “finds” today. Now, my definition of a find may differ from yours, but to me it is something I have not seen before, or have developed a whole new interest in for whatever reason.

Today, I want to talk about coffee jars.

First off, I can barely remember ground coffee being in jars at all, but I do. We all know about Maxwell House, Choice, Eight O’Clock, Nescafe, Starbucks, J F G, and, my current early a. m. choice, Folger’s, of which I sip a cup every morning, patiently waiting for the day they call me to do a commercial. The jars I found, however, are for a coffee I never knew existed, Del Monte.

Now, clearly I understand that there is a really big book that can be written about things I have never heard of, but in the 30 years or so I have actively pursued things old and unusual, I had never seen a jar of Del Monte coffee until I found them in the upstairs of the old Payne building on Main Street here in North Wilkesboro. Since then, I have shown them to practically everyone who has stopped to visit at my office at The Record, as well as tried to contact Del Monte for information.

So far, no one has ever seen Del Monte coffee before, and the Del Monte company hasn’t seen fit to respond to our inquiries. Also, since the Del Monte coffee “find” I have looked in numerous stores and junk holes looking for another, also to no avail.

Next, I want to move on to an old bottle of Clorox Liquid Cleaning and Washing Compound. I found this beauty in the same place, the Payne building, and the 1942 copyright date on the label places it in the 60 plus year old category. You will notice I didn’t use the word bleach—it was only mentioned incidentally along with numerous other uses, which included removing stains, scorch marks, and mildew. This quart glass bottle of Clorox also proclaimed that it was Ultra-refined R and could be used as a disinfectant, deodorizer, and germicide. Above a clothes line filled with laundry, it proudly proclaimed, “The White Line is the Clorox Line.”

All this was in bold on the front, but that was just the beginning. On the back, the label continues in earnest, with Clorox being touted as good for cleaning, among other things, basins, bows, bathtubs, bottles, chopping blocks, coffee pots, crockery, cuspidors, and various other items throughout the alphabet.

But there’s more. After laundry instructions, the label moves onto pets, poultry and livestock uses, including directions for “…an antiseptic, deodorizing bath” for cats and dogs. Last, but not least, is the list of personal uses, which include: making drinking water safe, cleaning dental plates, instructions for the use of Clorox to treat insect bites, scratches and burns. From there it moves on to poison oak, ivy, sumac, ringworm and, of course, athlete’s foot. The back label even offers help with, ahem, feminine needs.

The more I read, the more I was amazed—all this from a bottle of Clorox.

As ever, it has made me all the more curious. If any of you want to look at these bottles, and for that matter, any of the other assorted memorabilia that decorates the offices of The Record, feel free to stop by. We love the company. If you have any old product labels you are willing to share, or any information on Del Monte coffee, I especially would like to hear from you.

Now, if Folger’s will just call…

Rewire your brain

By LAURA WELBORN

Rewiring your brain takes hard work.

More and more studies are showing that mindfulness and focused breathing techniques show a reduction in anxiety and depression. Learning to witness and monitor depressed and anxious thoughts can help you manage them and be less prone to push the panic button.

Mindfulness can actually reduce the activity of the genes that produce inflammation in the body. Inflammation is how the body deals with pain and stress. When we can't control our reaction to pain or stress we can cause inflammation which affects our health. Mindfulness on areas of loving kindness and compassion for others can redirect and rewire our brains to better health.

My own experiences of exposure to people who essentially transmit loving kindness and compassion are a personal testimony towards how much better I feel when I see them- it "makes my day." Some of the things I must remind myself of so I can be that person who gives off loving kindness and compassion are:

"Sometimes you subconsciously dehumanize people you disagree with. Be careful. In our self-righteousness, we can easily become the very things we dislike in others. Ultimately, the way we treat people we disagree with is a report card on what we’ve learned about love and compassion. Every single person you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something. Know this. Respect this. And be extra kind

Your response is always more powerful than your circumstance. A tiny part of your life is decided by completely uncontrollable circumstances, while the vast majority of your life is decided by your responses. Where you ultimately end up is heavily dependent on how you play the hands you’ve been dealt

Everything gets a bit uncomfortable when it’s time to change. That’s just a part of the growth process. Things will get better. Be patient.

Patience is not about waiting. Patience is the ability to keep a positive, focused attitude while working hard to move your life forward.

New, good habits don’t form overnight. It takes roughly 66 days to form a habit. So, for the next nine weeks, look at the bright side of your life, and you will rewire your brain.

Old patterns are hard to break. Be aware. Act consciously and consistently. Don’t fall back into your old patterns. Toxic habits and behaviors always try to sneak back in when you’re doing better. Stay focused.

Sometimes it’s better to let go without closure. Actions and behavior speak volumes. Trust the signs you were given and gracefully press on.

If you always play the victim, you will always be treated like one. Life isn’t fair. But you don’t have to let the past define your future. Try to take life day by day and be grateful for the little things. Don’t get caught up in what you can’t control." Marc and Angel Hack life blog inserts.

I miss the breakfast club that met at Woodhaven restaurant- Ted Brown, Gerald Lankford, Jim Swofford, to name a few. They were my fix on loving kindness and compassion, now I can just hope to run into them and get a hug of kindness.

Laura Welborn, Mediator and Counselor. [email protected]

Part II: The Plague of Islamic Ideology—World Stability is at Stake

By EARL COX

Special for The Record

The Iran nuclear deal is once again making news. Iran's leaders have carefully crafted their plan for worldwide domination in which the nuclear deal fit nicely. A quick look at the basic tenets of Islam and relatively recent history reveals some interesting information and chilling parrallels with rogue regimes of the past.

Iran’s nuclear and missile programs, militant proxies (Hezbollah and others), and quest for expansion “from Tehran to the sea” through Lebanon, Iraq and Syria threaten not just Israel and America, but the world. Iran’s insidious ideology animates these threats.

Iranian mullahs have devised a peculiar brand of jihadist and sharia-rule—with a twist. Ayatollah Khomeini’s 1970 book Velayat-e Faqih (Governance of the Jurist) endows a Shiite faqih (Islamic scholar) with full political and religious powers, including rule over Shiites worldwide—and ultimately, global dominance. Khomeini conveniently granted himself the title “Imam,” and declared himself a stand-in for the 12th Imam (Mahdi—a messiah figure). His doctrine, now enshrined in the 1989 constitution, sanctions state-sponsored violent jihad, and “mandates global export of the same Islamic Revolution that brought the mullahs to power,” said Lt. Col. James G. Zumwalt, USMC (Ret.) The constitution’s preamble concludes with “the hope this century will witness the establishment of a universal holy government and the downfall of all others,” said security expert Richard Horowitz.

Shiites believe their Supreme Leader has power only until their Mahdi returns, an event that must be “triggered by world chaos,” followed by global Islamic rule, Zumwalt said. In a deviation from traditional Shiism, Iran’s mullahs believe man can be a catalyst of the chaos required for the Mahdi’s return, citing Israel’s destruction as the trigger. Iran’s nuclear program is a means to these ends.

If history offers any lessons, then the parallels between Iran’s (and radical Islam’s) ideology, and Japanese State Shinto in World War II deserve consideration. The deadly assaults of Japan’s crazed banzai troops and kamikaze suicide pilots—most younger than 24—have significant parallels to radical Islamic “martyrs.” Kamikaze means “divine wind,” referring to a typhoon that wrecked an invading Mongolian fleet—attributed to the gods answering the Japanese emperor’s prayers, according to War History Online. Japan considered its emperor a sacred descendent of the ancient sun goddess Amaterasu–whose red-sun symbol is emblazoned on the Japanese flag.

“The idea of the sacred imperial line descended from the sun goddess became a political dogma about 500 years ago,” said Ian Buruma, for The New York Times. The fertility cult Shinto was also cast as the national religion, with Amaterasu as its principal female deity, to “enforce unification and national identity.” State Shinto is a “contrived version of Japanese culture … turned into a religious cult for political reasons,” Buruma said. An example was Japan’s notoriously militant propaganda. Striking a similar tone, both Iranian and Palestinian leaders use religion to foment anti-Israel fervor under the banner of the “Al-Aqsa is in danger” campaign.

As Amaterasu’s descendant, the emperor was Shinto’s high priest, giving him “a divine right to rule not only Japan, but the world,” the BBC said. It also became official doctrine that since the Japanese descended from the gods, they were superior to all other races—chillingly familiar concepts in Nazism.

As head of the allied occupation, Gen. Douglas McArthur targeted State Shinto—the militaristic religious ideology that fueled Japanese aggression—but he allowed non-politicized “Shrine Shinto” to stand. According to the BBC, he attempted to deconstruct State Shinto by reforms, which, among others, severed religion and state; and implemented freedom of religion—which is protected by Israel, but rejected in Gaza and The West Bank. He also restructured Japan’s education system, including teaching manuals and textbooks—like calls for similar initiatives in Palestinian schools, which distort history and foment violence against Israel. MacArthur’s directives also rededicated Japanese national life to peace and democracy.

Without addressing the long-term effectiveness of MacArthur’s reforms, his is an encouraging example of a leader who understood the central role that despotic religious ideology plays in conflict resolution, and who did something about it when given the chance. The Allies’ military superiority doubtless provided the leverage for positive change.

Since the concluding sentence of Iran’s constitution says its theocracy and ideological basis are “unalterable,” leverage and intervention are required. Rescinding and revising the nuclear deal is our best first step. World stability is at stake.

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