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newstfionline · 3 years

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Friday, May 28, 2021

San Jose Shooting Leaves Eight Dead (CNN) An employee of the Valley Transportation Authority (VTA), a public transit operation in San Jose, California, went to work as usual early Wednesday morning at the VTA maintenance and dispatch rail yard. But that morning, he brought a gun and opened fire, killing at least eight coworkers and wounding others, one critically, before committing suicide. Around the same time as the shooting, a house in San Jose that is believed to be that of the shooter erupted in flames. Investigators are looking into the gunman’s motive. This mass shooting is the 232nd incident so far this year in the U.S. in which at least four people were shot.

U.S. drivers to get hit by soaring pump prices over Memorial Day holiday (Reuters) U.S. motorists will see the highest gasoline prices in seven years when they hit the roads this Memorial Day weekend, the traditional start of the summer driving season, as fuel demand surges alongside coronavirus vaccination rates. Retail gasoline prices are at about $3.04 a gallon on average nationwide, the most expensive since 2014, data from the American Automobile Association showed. And after a year of lockdowns to curb the coronavirus pandemic, tens of millions of American road-trippers are expected to be stung by those prices: More than 34 million Americans are expected to take to the highways between May 27 and May 31, AAA expects, an increase of 53% from last year but still down 10% from 2019.

Less defunding? (WSJ) One year after the movement to “defund” law enforcement began to upend municipal budgets, many American cities are restoring money to their police departments or proposing to spend more. In the nation’s 20 largest local law-enforcement agencies, city and county leaders want funding increases for nine of the 12 departments where next year’s budgets already have been proposed. The increases range from 1% to nearly 6%.

Competition, not engagement (Bloomberg) The U.S. is entering a period of intense competition with China as the government running the world’s second-biggest economy becomes ever more tightly controlled by President Xi Jinping, the White House’s top official for Asia said. “The period that was broadly described as engagement has come to an end,” Kurt Campbell, the U.S. coordinator for Indo-Pacific affairs on the National Security Council, said Wednesday at an event hosted by Stanford University. U.S. policy toward China will now operate under a “new set of strategic parameters,” Campbell said, adding that “the dominant paradigm is going to be competition.”

Poll shows Argentines expect inflation to hit 50% in next year (Buenos Aires Times) Argentines’ expectations for inflation over the next year hit a record, as government price controls have failed to tame elevated food costs. Argentines’ expectations for inflation over the next year hit a record, as government price controls have failed to tame elevated food costs. Prices rose four percent or more in three of the first four months this year, prompting the government to extend some price controls and temporarily ban beef exports. Alongside concerns of no economic plan, the government’s money printing last year to finance Covid-19 social spending is also fueling expectations for elevated inflation in 2021.

Relations in the ditch (Nikkei Asian Review) The European Parliament has voted overwhelmingly to freeze the ratification process of an investment pact with China—a deal that Beijing six months ago considered a big strategic victory. It has sent shock waves throughout China, with only one month and change before arguably the most important event in President Xi Jinping’s era, the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party’s establishment, on July 1. Some party members are worried that the centenary’s festive mood will be dampened by the harsh diplomatic reality. Not only are China’s relations with the U.S. bad, but now EU relations are stuck in a ditch.

China keeps diplomats out of espionage trial of Australian Yang Hengjun (Reuters) Australia’s ambassador to China was denied entry to a heavily guarded Beijing court on Thursday that is hearing an espionage case against Australian blogger Yang Hengjun, at a time of worsening ties between the two nations. China said the case involved state secrets and so could not be heard in open court. Yang, an Australian citizen born in China, wrote about Chinese and U.S. politics online as a high-profile blogger and also penned a series of spy novels before his detention two years ago. Diplomatic ties between the two nations have deteriorated sharply since Yang was detained, with China imposing trade sanctions on produce from Australia and reacting angrily to its call for an international inquiry into the origins of the coronavirus, as well as its 5G ban on telecoms giant Huawei. Details of the Yang case have been shrouded in secrecy, with no information released on which espionage agency he is alleged to have acted for. If convicted Yang faces a jail term of 10 years or more on charges of endangering national security.

The Super Rich Are Choosing Singapore as the World’s Safest Haven (Bloomberg) When Singaporean car dealer Keith Oh first read the Facebook message, he wasn’t sure it was real. A Chinese client ordered a S$1.1 million ($830,000) Bentley—sight unseen—over the social network. “They just asked for the price and when we could do the delivery, that’s all,” he said. “It’s a million dollars to us but it’s probably nothing to them.” Money is sloshing around Singapore like never before. As the coronavirus pandemic hammers Southeast Asia and political turmoil threatens Hong Kong, the city has become a safe harbor for some of the region’s wealthiest tycoons and their families. Singapore has long been a draw for wealthy Chinese, Indonesians and Malaysians who would come for short trips. The pandemic has changed all that, prompting many tycoons and their families to stay for months, in some cases seeking residency to ride out the storm. On a per capita basis, the mortality rates in Malaysia and Indonesia are more than 10 and 30 times higher than in Singapore, according to data collected by Johns Hopkins University.

A Wave of Afghan Surrenders to the Taliban Picks Up Speed (NYT) Ammunition was depleted inside the bedraggled outposts in Laghman Province. Food was scarce. Some police officers hadn’t been paid in five months. Then, just as American troops began leaving the country in early May, Taliban fighters besieged seven rural Afghan military outposts across the wheat fields and onion patches of the province, in eastern Afghanistan. The insurgents enlisted village elders to visit the outposts bearing a message: Surrender or die. By mid-month, security forces had surrendered all seven outposts after extended negotiations, according to village elders. At least 120 soldiers and police were given safe passage to the government-held provincial center in return for handing over weapons and equipment. “We told them, ‘Look, your situation is bad—reinforcements aren’t coming,’” said Nabi Sarwar Khadim, 53, one of several elders who negotiated the surrenders. Since May 1, at least 26 outposts and bases in just four provinces—Laghman, Baghlan, Wardak and Ghazni—have surrendered after such negotiations, according to village elders and government officials. With morale diving as American troops leave, and the Taliban seizing on each surrender as a propaganda victory, each collapse feeds the next in the Afghan countryside.

Israeli Police Round Up Palestinian Protesters Out of Global Spotlight (The Intercept) Palestinian activists urged the world not to look away from their struggle for freedom and equality following the ceasefire in Gaza, as Israeli police began rounding up Palestinian citizens of Israel who took part in demonstrations described as riots by the authorities. At least 74 Palestinians were detained by Monday afternoon, in the first hours of what Israel’s police force is calling “Operation Law and Order.” Palestinian rights groups called the planned arrest of up to 500 protesters—on charges ranging from attacks on the police to vandalism to online incitement—a blatant crackdown on dissent, timed to coincide with the dimming of the global spotlight on the conflict. “Israeli forces and police are going on a mass arresting rampage in Lydd, and other Palestinian cities in an attempt to ‘even the score’ with Palestinians that spoke up against their ethnic cleansing,” the Palestinian writer Mariam Barghouti observed on Twitter, as video of two men being detained and blindfolded in the city Israelis call Lod circulated online. “This is what we warned about. Israel will target us all when you stop looking.” “The world tends to look away as soon as Israeli lives are no longer threatened by rockets but it is stuff like this, that Israel does to Palestinians every day, that guarantees future rounds,” the writer and political analyst Yousef Munayyer commented on the same images.

UN envoy: Syrian people face immense humanitarian suffering (AP) The U.N. special envoy for Syria said Wednesday it’s “a tragic irony” that ordinary Syrians are facing “immense and growing humanitarian suffering” at this time of relative calm in the more than 10-year conflict. Geir Pedersen pointed to “economic destitution, a pandemic, displacement, detention and abduction—all while violent conflict, terrorism and human rights abuses continue” in the country. While the military situation is relatively calm in some areas, Pedersen said, “recurring signs of a hot conflict are abundant.” He cited spikes in violence in several areas, with shelling by both sides, airstrikes including some by Israel, and more attacks attributed to the Islamic State extremist group. On the economic front, Pedersen said, the Syrian pound has stabilized somewhat “but the price of essential goods and transportation costs are increasingly outside of the grasp of many Syrians.” And in many areas, basic services including water, electricity and health “remain compromised,” he said. U.N. humanitarian chief Mark Lowcock stressed the dire water situation, saying reduced water levels in the Euphrates river which started in January “reached a critical point this month.”

Famine Looms in Ethiopia’s War-Ravaged Tigray Region, U.N. Says (NYT) Famine is now knocking on the door of Ethiopia’s Tigray region, where a civil war that erupted last year has drastically cut the food supply and prevented relief workers from helping the hungry, the top U.N. humanitarian official has warned. In a confidential note to the United Nations Security Council, the official, Mark Lowcock, the under secretary general for humanitarian affairs, said sections of Tigray, a region of more than five million people, are now one step from famine—in part because the government has obstructed aid shipments. “Humanitarian operations are being attacked, obstructed or delayed in delivering lifesaving assistance,” Mr. Lowcock wrote, and at least eight aid workers have been killed.

Thousands evacuate Congo’s Goma amid more volcanic activity (AP) Tens of thousands of people are fleeing the city of Goma in eastern Congo fearing another volcanic eruption by Mount Nyiragongo, which spewed lava near the city last week. Traffic was jammed and pedestrians streamed through the streets, desperate to escape the impending danger. A new eruption could occur at any moment, the military governor of Congo’s North Kivu province, Lt. Gen. Constat Ndima Kongba, announced early Thursday. He ordered the evacuation of 10 of the 18 neighborhoods in the city of 2 million people. The center of Goma, which was spared when the volcano erupted last week, is now under threat, with activity being reported near the urban area and Lake Kivu, Kongba said. Residents were advised to carry very little and told not to return to their homes until advised by authorities. Many people were seen heading northwest toward the town of Sake and east toward Rwanda. International organizations such as the U.N. mission in Congo had on Wednesday already begun evacuating their staff.

#headlines #news

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viridian-angel · 7 years

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Precious (Part 1) [Commission]

Series: Original

Pairing: Sara Reighs/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3954 words

Rating: R18+

How long had it been? A few weeks, probably. You had recently gotten out of a controlling relationship, and instead of going out and celebrating your newfound freedom, the days had been mainly spent holed up in your apartment, binge-watching shows for the entire day and falling asleep at 4 a.m. A tough cycle to break-- one that some of your more concerned friends wanted you desperately to break. They talked you into doing something a bit out of your comfort zone; going to a nightclub. Not only that, but going to a nightclub to try and date someone new. Key word being try, but you couldn't help but feel a bit excited at the idea of flirting with an attractive stranger. That's what you were hopeful about this for, though you were mildly worried that you'd find no one to your liking; or worse, have people that are the exact opposite of your type coming onto you.

Regardless, you were here now, and there was no going back. If you did, the whole experience of getting all dressed up and feeling more pretty and self-confident than you have in months would have been for nothing. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest as you wait outside, staring at your reflection in the windows outside the club and fixing tiny, almost unnoticeable mistakes in your make-up. You were putting off going inside, of course; it wouldn't last long, as the night was cold and more revealing mini-skirt you put on certainly wouldn't help you get warmer anytime soon.

With another small moment of hesitation, you step back in the line. There isn't much wait now; the huge line that intimidated you earlier has thinned out. It also seems to have gotten quieter, as well. The heavy, fast digital bass lines coming from inside came and went, and you could just barely make out the faint sounds of piano and jazzy double bass playing.

As you reach the large bouncer at the front, he asks for your ID. You hand it to him, he returns it to you and briefly pats you down before waving you in.

A smooth, soulful voice fills the club; a woman in a sleek white and black Italian cut suit complimenting her pale skin and shimmering silver hair sits down on a stool, long fingers dancing across the ivory keys of the marble piano in front of her.

"... but please don't deceive me, and say you love me how I am... you love the way I fit some ideal; not the real woman you've yet to understand- see, love ain't all heaven, and I am no angel, but I do the best I can."

You stare in rapt silence; the tone and atmosphere of the club are set so far apart from what you were expecting it's baffling, almost comedically so. The skimpily dressed women and men of the club watch in silence or talk at a respectfully quiet volume as the woman sings. You fiddle with your skirt nervously before a delicate hand is placed on your shoulder, a reassuring look greeting your confused face.

"I'm guessing it's, like, your first time here?" she asks, giggles practically bubbling out of her lips. She looks far more like what you expected here; blonde, pretty, definitely a valley girl. You nod, and she tries to keep herself from laughing harder, shaking her head.

"That's the club owner. She comes here on Friday nights and plays for like, an hour or two. Guys seem to either like, want to fuck her, or get jealous and leave cause their girls keep staring at her. It's sooo funny--" she says drunkenly, a very embarrassed looking, imposing, a tall woman coming over and taking her by the hand.

"Come on, Summer, don't start bugging other people for drinks. Sorry about her..."

The blonde pouts and hesitantly latches onto the woman's arm, walking with her and babbling incoherently.

"... I was NOT, I was just telling her about..." she trails off.

Scratching the back of your head, you bring your attention back to the woman on stage. She seems to be finishing up.

" ... always wanted something more from my body, and said you needed something more from my loving; but all you got was me, and that's all I can be. I'm sorry if it let you down."

Gorgeous singers in sparkling white dresses back her up as she reaches a crescendo, closing her eyes and smiling brightly as she continues to sing.

" ...But I'm not gunna sit around and waste my precious divine energy trying to explain and being ashamed of what you think is wrong with me. I'm not gunna sit around and waste my precious divine energy trying to explain and being ashamed of what you think is wrong with me..."

The music fades out, and soft applause fills the room, as well as a few whistles from what seems like mainly the female demographic. She stands up and gives a few waves to the audience, sharing a few words with the crew on stage before walking off with a shot glass in her hand. You find yourself reluctant to pull your eyes off of her; her eyes briefly flicker over to you, her icy green eyes full of life and pulling you in the more you stare. Her grin is bright and warm, and she looks away seconds later; but even that small moment seemed like a few minutes at least.

You find yourself squirming in place with nervous energy. Your heart is beating a little harder, and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't find her a little bit attractive- her eccentric appearance sticks out far more than any of the guys in the club, certainly. You stand on your tiptoes to get more of a look at her, but your heart sinks as she walks into what looks like her office and shuts the door. Maybe more luck will be had if you leave the crowd and go to the bar, you think to yourself.

The bar is far less populated than the area surrounding the stage, and it doesn't take very long until the air is filled with dense synth and heavy basslines again. You ask for a drink, preferably one that leaves you sober enough to coherently call your friends for a ride home.

The next hour is very... uneventful. You idly mess around on your phone and start to feel a bit self-conscious from the lack of interaction. You had braced yourself from some sort of gross advances from unattractive men, but it seems like the stereotype you built up in your head surrounding nightclubs and bars is entirely absent here. Even with the thumping of people jumping up and down and dancing just small distance from you, the entire atmosphere seems far more calm and relaxed, almost as if it was carefully manipulated that way. The music and exterior brought in a crowd that seems more accustomed to raves, but the interior was well-decorated, warmly lit between performances, and only seemed to have the high, pent up energy associated with most nightclubs dependent on who was on stage.

Right when you're about to get up and leave, you feel a heavy weight sit down next to you, setting a glass on the bar. You look to your left and see the singer from earlier, and she looks back at you and smiles.

Your heart skips a beat, and seeing her this close makes you realize how absolutely huge she is. She completely dwarfs you in size; she's at least a foot taller than you, maybe more, and you can see the vague but firm outline of muscle under her sleeves. The woman has an almost ghostly, ethereal beauty to her. Her whole form seems to shine as if a spotlight was placed on her wherever she went, and her silver hair sparkles like it, too. You can hear her talking, but you're so wrapped up in just looking at her and absorbing every detail it just seems to fade out and pass your ears. Her green eyes are full of life, but unusually light and almost sorrowful. They bring back the nostalgia of slow, rainy days long past, and you can't seem to place why. Her lips are a delicate and pale pink, and naturally, curve into a warm smile; you can't imagine seeing her frown. Not to mention how soft they look, like you could just lean in and...

"Woah there, hun."

You notice as she was talking you had gotten far closer, and you were inches away from falling out of your chair and into her arms. Big, warm, strong arms that could...

Shaking your head, you look up at her and feel your face light up with embarrassment. She gives you a sympathetic smile, laughing softly.

"If you keep that up, you're gunna fall you know. A sign you've drunk too much, or far too little." she teases, biting her tongue at you and chuckling. She turns to the bartender, tapping the glossy wood of the bar. "The usual for me, please. And for the pretty lady..." she trails off, looking at you and smirking. "I'm going to guess something small, or a seltzer. She looks like she needs to get herself home, but I'll let her order for herself. It's on me, though."

"What about my drink, Sara?"

A heavy, booming voice sounds behind the two of you, and you whip your head behind you to see probably the biggest man you've ever seen in your entire life. He's heavyset, though most of it looks like muscle and his beard would make a mall Santa jealous. You jolt as the woman slams her fist on the table sharply, getting up suddenly and staring the man down intensely. The atmosphere gets far more tense in a matter of seconds, and the sparse amount of people at the bar have their eyes glued to the encounter.

Seconds pass like hours as they glare at each other, before the two of them suddenly burst into laughter, play punching the other in the shoulder.

"Yeah, okay. Get this big bastard a Shirley Temple. Extra grenadine."

"Oh, Sara, how did you know?" he says in a patronizing sing-song. "You know me so well!" he continues, flicking his gaze to you and grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, come on, shoo." she quickly says, waving her hand. "We got new blood here, I don't want your ass scaring her off."

"Fine, but you owe me an actual drink for not cockblo--"

He stops once he sees the stare the woman is giving him, laughing and walking off.

"Sorry about that." she says, her voice becoming far more quiet and soft when speaking with you. "Don't pay attention to him, he likes giving everyone trouble."

You fiddle with your skirt as she takes a drink, a bit nervous but wanting to actually say something to her. As you open your mouth and begin to speak, she does so as well, and you both look at each other and blush lightly.

"Sorry, you first." she says.

"Mm... your name is Sara?"

"That's right. Sara Reighs. I'm the owner of the club, but don't let that intimidate you. It's just a side business, really. What's your name, sweetheart?"

You tell her your name, and her smile widens.

"That's a pretty one. I like it. A lot."

Sara keeps you company at the bar. She seems to easily notice how nervous you are and manages to hold up the conversation rather easily when you don't know what to say. It's not long before you're smiling and laughing with her. She practically oozes charisma, seamlessly linking one line of thought to the next, stringing you along the conversation easily, and you start to hang on every pause she makes, savoring everytime she speaks. Her voice is smooth, rich, and wonderfully pleasant to listen to. It feels like you could both be put to sleep and roused into ecstasy by her words alone.

You find yourself lingering a long while on the last thought, and it takes a while before you realize it and come to your senses again. When you do, she's still chattering calmly as nothing had happened. After a small pause in her speech, she looks at you; but the look is a bit different. It's a bit more... heated is the only word that comes to mind.

"I'm sorry, I've been talking for quite a while here. Pardon me if this comes across as tasteless, but do you happen to have, ah... a boyfriend?" she asks, and it's probably the only time you've heard her even slightly nervous.

You tell her no, not anymore. You spare her the details.

She offers a soft, empathetic smile, nodding her head.

"Well, I hate to be blunt; I'd genuinely prefer to be far more subtle about things, but I'm pressured on time right now and sort of lost myself talking to you- as much of a pleasure as it's been. Would you like to come with me to my office? It's much more... private."

The last word rolls off of her tongue with a sultry tone, and it sends a shiver up your spine. You had expected some sort of sexual advance from someone tonight, but you had no idea it would be so... wanted. You nod your head, biting your lip and pressing your legs together.

She smirks and grabs your hand, helping you out of your seat and leading you towards a room just for the two of you.

Once you reach her office, she closes and locks the door behind her, immediately flicking her hair back and unbuttoning the outer jacket of her suit and flinging it haphazardly off to the side. She loosens her tie, sitting down on the plush couch to the side of the room and beckoning you towards her. You approach nervously, but you see nothing but reassurance in her gaze, like the woman you've only just met already absolutely adores you.

Sara takes your hand for a moment and eases you down onto the couch beside her, talking quickly as she undresses. "I feel I should say, I'm just undressing already because I want to get down to it as soon as possible. If you'd like to leave, if you don't want to get involved with me, I completely understand. I'd like to tell you, though, this will only be what you want it to be. If you want to be a small fling and nothing else, we can leave at that. If you want this to be a lasting thing, well... I'd be happy to oblige."

You shake your head, nervously smiling. You tell her that you definitely want to do this; you're already getting giddy just thinking about doing something so in the moment- especially with a girl, of all people.

She giggles, taking off her inner shirt, leaving her in a tank-top and her white suit pants. You stare in awe at her skin; pale, and toned, arms and legs that she could easily break a person with. It makes the way she's been touching you so softly make you feel all the more surprising and warming.

With nothing further to say, she pushes her lips onto yours, leading you with practiced movements underneath her, laying on top of you. Her tongue easily slides past your lips and runs over yours, your eyes fluttering open and closed as you give in to her dominant advance. Her fingers skillfully unbutton your blouse, exposing your torso's skin to the air as she unhooks your bra and tosses it to the side just as quickly. You shake and shiver underneath the comforting weight and warmth of her body pressed so tightly against yours, the firmness of her abdomen sticking out in particular against your soft belly.

You whimper as she slowly pulls her lips from yours, flicking her hair back again as she sits up while straddling your waist. She smiles down at you, briefly mouthing the word "beautiful" while staring down at your chest. Your face reddens up considerably, and it doesn't go unnoticed by her. She places her hands on your breasts and smirks, thumbs rolling along your nipples in gentle circles, occasionally bringing in her index finger to squeeze and tug them very gently, eliciting a pitiful, needy whimper from your lips that heat your entire body up with embarrassment. Sara lays back down on you, mouth by your ear as she whispers in a sultry voice to you.

"I'm going to make you mine tonight. Every inch of you will belong to me, every noise you make mine to hear, and every bit of your mind consumed by thoughts of me. Are we clear?" she asks firmly, her dirty talk punctuated by the rather cute visual of her absentmindedly tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear.

You nod ecstatically with a grin on your face, cooing with pleased surprise as she stuffs her face into your neck, leaving soft kisses and sharp bites across it. You squirm, but doing so only rubs your bodies more firmly together.

"Good girl."

Heat and moisture build in your crotch, and you moan desperately for release. This also doesn't go unnoticed; Sara's hand runs down your body, flips your skirt up, and slides into your panties. Her fingertips graze across your slit, dancing and sliding across it rhythmically. It feels good, but it's not nearly enough to satisfy the aching desire you feel; you have a feeling Sara knows this. She pulls back from your neck and her smirk widens as she catches the pitiable, needy look on your face.

She pulls her hand away and gets up, snapping her fingers and pointing away. "You. On my desk. Now."

You nod without a word, getting up quickly and sitting on her desk.

"L-Like this?"

Sara shakes her head, pushing you on your back, and pulling you by the legs towards her. She reaches up your skirt pulls your panties down and off your legs, dropping them on the ground. She sits down on her desk chair, pulling you closer and closer until you feel her breath start to roll up your legs. You gasp in surprise as she places your legs on her shoulders, elevating your body ever so slightly. She rests her head between your thighs, raising it enough so you can see her nigh predatory grin.

"Pardon me for the intrusion."

Before you can respond, she places her lips tightly against your slit, letting out a satisfied hum. Her eyes close, and you let your head relax backward as she begins to pepper your nether-lips with kiss after kiss. The sensation is warm and pleasant; not too intense, just a soft, loving pressure. Each delicate kiss leaves a tingling sensation in its absence, and she waits just enough time before each one to make you feel antsy and squirm a bit for the next.

She laughs quietly, heated breath pouring across your quivering pussy.

"You're so cute. The way you tremble so needily for me... I adore it."

You open your mouth to vocalize something, anything, but all that comes out is a sheepish whimper. She giggles, looking into your eyes with a half-lidded stare as she presses her hot, wet tongue against your slit. The tip digs in a bit, and she trails it upwards slowly.

"Mine."

As the final word leaves her lips, she closes her eyes and presses in deeper, causing you to tremble and shake as her tongue pushes into you. She parts your folds, but only for a moment, pulling her tongue back and chuckling. "Sorry, just checking something... for later."

Sara lowers her hands from your shins slowly, traveling down your thighs and softly running the tips of her fingers along them. As she does, she drags her tongue along each of the sides of your heated lips, letting out a pleased sigh as she does. The presses the entirety of her hands against your thighs now, squeezing them lovingly as she tilts her head up and pushing her lips against your clitoris in a tender kiss.

You feel your thighs trembling in her grasp, waves of pleasure rolling through your body like waves. Every time she kisses or licks you, you feel everything fade away into the background. You forget that you're in her office, on her desk over time, simply moaning and whimpering under her unrelenting stimulation.

You lose track of time, your mind fogging up and going blank as a familiar pressure builds up inside you. You can hear yourself getting louder and louder, mindlessly moaning and calling her name over and over. Now and then you can faintly hear her calling your name back and giggling; though you can't clearly make out what it is she's saying, her voice is unfairly smooth, and the way she says it is incredibly soothing. You catch yourself smiling happily and starting to laugh as she continues onward, the pressure of your oncoming orgasm building more and more each passing second.

"S-Sa--" you start, but Sara hushes you.

"Miss Reighs. We're in my office now, and you owe me the proper respect." she teases.

You pout, but you can't help but bite your lip at the idea of furthering your submissiveness to her.

"M-Miss Reighs, I'm getting clossssse..." you say weakly, the last syllable dragging off into a fluttery little moan.

"I know. Go ahead, darling. You've been a good girl, you deserve it." she giggles, squeezing your thighs harder and swirling her tongue in tight circles around your clit.

The extra bit of stimulation pushes you over the edge, and a heavy rush of a pleasure rocks you to your very core. You squirm and shake as Sara smiles down at your face and smiles proudly, letting you ride out your blissful climax against her tongue. Every twitch and shake of your hips push you against her lips, and she simply kisses it in response. You pant and squeal with delight, and she doesn't let up for a moment.

It takes a while to come down, and you can keep track of whether you've cum once or three times in the span of you needily pushing against her lips.

".... there's a good girl, relax.... good girl..." you hear her whisper, finally able to make out what she's been saying. She gently moves your legs off of her shoulders and scoops you up off of her desk, laying you down on her plush couch.

You weakly open your eyes and see her straightening herself up in a mirror near the door, stretching a bit. As you watch, you realize you can't vividly remember the last time you had been on the receiving end of oral. Or at least, nothing quite as... spectacular as whatever just happened.

"Was that your first time getting eaten out by a girl?" she asks, crossing her arms and sighing out as she continues to stretch. "Eh, doesn't matter I guess. As long as you enjoyed it."

She walks over to you and sits down, quietly running her fingers through your hair, grabbing one of your hands and placing a kiss on it. "Rest up all you need, sweetheart. I'll be right back."

You murmur contently in response, curling up as she puts on her suit jacket and walks back outside, locking the door behind her so you can rest in peace.

Everything is so quiet in her office, and you feel yourself nodding off slowly as you wait for her to come back. Without consciously realizing it, you fall asleep...

#writing #smut #sara reighs

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djgblogger-blog · 7 years

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The small hands of Moroccan recycling

http://bit.ly/2vz09A2

A wastepicker working in the streets of Casablanca. (Photo Pascal Garret, July 2013) www.bab-el-louk.org, CC BY-NC-ND

This article is based on a series about recycling documented in the 2017 book What to do with leftovers? Re-employment in Accumulation Societies. The photographs by Pascal Garret, sociologist and freelance photographer, who collaborates with social scientists on the theme of waste recovery and recycling.

Casablanca, Morocco, summer 2016. With constant heat often above 30°C, garbage can quickly suffocate the four millions inhabitants of this city. But as visitors navigate through the second-largest city of the Maghrebian region, small hands are making sure that large quantities of waste do not pile up on landfills by offering them new life.

These men and women belong to populations that anthropologist Delphine Corteel and sociologist Stéphane Le Lay (ERES, 2011) have called “waste workers”.

Despite their tremendous and tiring work, they remain excluded from the Moroccan society because of the uncleanliness of their work, and the nature of their living spaces.

They live on the margins of legal urban areas, in slums and makeshift houses, which are regularly demolished or threatened by real estate and urban projects. While working in the streets, they are often victims of violence either committed by the authorities or other inhabitants.

We conducted interviews with many members of this community from 2011. Our objective was to show that these waste collectors, sorters, semi-wholesalers, recyclers and transporters often consider their work as a real profession and believe that their role is essential, especially given that environmental issues have never been higher on the agenda.

According to our multi-site surveys, more than a third of Casablanca’s household waste would escape rejection from landfills.

Far from presenting an image of misery and exclusion, we wish to portray this population free from the stigma that usually accompanies activities linked to waste.

Overview of one part of a waste recycling area in Casablanca, Lahraouine. In the background, you can see the social housing district of Attacharouk. (Photo Pascal Garret/MuCEM, January 2015)

Situated on the outskirts of Casablanca and in a topographic depression, the Lahraouine district remains virtually invisible from the outside. Most workers live in neighbouring douars (slums) where running water is absent and electricity is supplied by generators or illegal connections.

Several real estate projects have put pressure on the city to revamp the district and get rid of its slums. As the waste collectors do not owner their lands and there’s no rehousing project, they live in fear of eviction.

A bouar returning from his tour in the outskirts of Casablanca. (Photo Pascal Garret, May 2016)

This bouar (the word is derived from the French word éboueur for garbage man) returns from the city with a cart filled with his daily collection. But the increasing number of containers buried in the affluent neighbourhoods of Casablanca reduces access to this waste resource.

More often than not, the bouara (plural for bouar) have to limit their work to open bins in working-class neighbourhoods. They are also more tolerated in these areas than in the city’s central districts or middle-upper class areas. In the latter, police can harass them, even arrest them and confiscate their donkeys and carts.

Inside view of a gelssa of Lahraouine. (Photo Pascal Garret, April 2017)

The gelssas (a term derived from the verb gels, which means sit down in darija, the language of the Maghreb region) are enclosures of various sizes surrounded by palisades (metal sheets, tarps, boards or dried waste that form a kind of wall) where the bouara centralise their harvest after each city tour.

Their collection is sold by weight and consists mainly of cardboard, plastics, metals, glass, fabrics and vegetable waste. Valuable objects, after changing hands several times, will eventually end up in one of the city’s flea markets (joutiya). Nothing that can be used is left behind.

A worker sorting waste in a gelssa specialised on plastic materials. (Photo Pascal Garret, May 2016)

The bouara of Casablanca can make about €20 daily, but many must rent their equipment (cart and animal) from their bosses for €2.

Some gelssas are versatile sorting and recycling sites (plastics, wood, metal, rags), where materials are sorted by type. Others specialise in a particular material, as is the case below for plastic.

There is no electricity in the gelssas and this machine is powered by a generator. (Photo Pascal Garret, April 2017)

After collection and sorting, some materials have to be compacted and crushed to take up less space, which adds value. The materials will then be sold to informal sector wholesalers or to the formal sector through pick-ups or trucks sent to carry the waste.

Women sorting plastic waste. (Photo Pascal Garret, May 2016)

In Lahraouine, we have not seen many women in the gelssas. Among the 3,000 active waste-recyclers we roughly counted, the majority are young men and we estimated that there were only 500 to 600 women. They are only assigned to sorting tasks.

The economic crisis in Morocco has led to an increase of waste workers in Casablanca.

The sheds of waste collectors are themselves made with waste. (Photo Pascal Garret, January 2015)

Waste collectors come, for the most part, from the countryside to escape poverty. Some of them originate from very remote villages in the eastern regions of Casablanca.

Many, especially youngsters, come and go according to agricultural cycles. Nearly 19% of Morocco’s agriculturally dependent rural population still lives in poverty or in danger of becoming impoverished. These seasonal workers are hosted by relatives in the douars of Lahraouine or live in sheds inside gelssas.

The boss of a gelssa posing with his horse. (Photo Pascal Garret, January 2015)

This boss of a gelssa employs several waste collectors. He owns a few carts pulled by a donkey or a horse, and is a “middle-income earner”.

There is a very strong hierarchy in the world of recycling. At the lower level are the simple bouara and women who sort and earn low incomes. At the end of the higher range are the bosses of large gelssas who own one or more trucks and plastic crushers.

Gelssas bosses are very familiar with the cost and value of materials on the market and keep themselves updated through the internet or their mobile phones. They know exactly where, to whom and when to sell to get the maximum benefit from their wares.

A waste collector at work in the Mediouna dump. (Photo Pascal Garret/MuCEM, January 2015)

Situated about 20 kilometres south of Greater Casablanca, the Mediouna’s landfill receives nearly 3,500 tons of household waste each day, brought in by the trucks of waste-recycling companies.

At this site, which should normally mark the end of life for Casablanca’s waste, some 600 illegal waste collectors extract about 1000 tons of materials daily that will be re-injected into the informal and formal recycling circuit.

The business of recycling factories and export wholesalers depends heavily on the activities of street collectors or the Mediouna landfill from whom they buy recovered materials at a lower cost. Secondary raw materials produced by the formal sector of the economy are largely derived from the work of these hidden workers.

Blurring the borders, this small world of informal workers is thus – directly or indirectly – well inserted in the economic chain on every level: local, regional, national and even international. The PET brought in by waste collectors, for example, is exported to China.

Many of them have also fully understood and integrated environmental arguments. One, called Mustapha, told us in an interview in 2013:

We contribute to the economy of Morocco. It is thanks to us that this waste is recycled instead of being simply buried or burned. This is our livelihood, it’s our survival and it makes our community live

This wholesaler even tried to create an association for the waste collectors of the Lahraouine district in order to get them officially acknowledged and organised. But so far he has faced indifference or opposition from the authorities.

His failure highlights the perpetual stigma attached to the profession of waste collecting. It also shows their isolation and relegation to the spatial and social margins of the economic capital of Morocco.

Yet, elsewhere in the world, innovative experiments, mobilisation of reclaiming communities and associations are signs that integration, access to social rights and, more broadly, recognition or informal waste collectors are possible.

Bénédicte Florin and Pascal Garret also collaborated for the Vies d'ordures, waste economics exhibition at the Museum of Civilisation of Europe and the Mediterranean (MuCEM, Marseille), March 22 to August 14 2017.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond the academic appointment above.

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