Just today, after recognizing a new source of ever increasing, usually nuisance, but often dangerous serial emails, I decided to write about spam. Or should I say Scam.
You know spam, where some persistent character tries to impose their will on you by daily—it is daily isn't it? It sure seems like it!—barrage of unwelcome emails. Or where some nefarious foreigner—it has to be a foreigner doesn't it? An American would never do that to a fellow American, would they?—tries their damnedest to get something from us.
Yeah, you know, some idiot, probably in Africa, usually from or representing Banco Faso in the Congo…I think, wants to give us a zillion dollars 'cause we're good guys and all we have to do is send them a couple thousand of our hard earned money to facilitate the transaction. What's that saying about a gold mine?
Anyway, there must be bigger idiots than them who buy their crap because like the energizer bunny the spam keeps on coming and coming or is it going and going. What's more, like a popular TV show there have been spin offs. You know where you are the winner of sweepstakes or contests you never entered, that may or may not exist. My favorite is where I was a winner of—get this—an IBM contest for ten zillion dollars. What's that saying about too good to be true?
Other consumer conscious companies that regularly have contests to share their largess run from petroleum giants like BPI (of the great Gulf of Mexico oil spill) to American Express and many generous companies in between. However, I'm still waiting to win a couple zillion from a Wall Street giant. I guess the contest spammers don't use scalawags that are bigger than them. Everybody knows Wall Streeters would rather pull down their pants and sit on a hot iron than cut into their sacred bonuses.
Then there's the dangerous spam purported to be from innocent senders like Yahoo, UPS, USPS, Discover card and so forth. The list is as endless as the scammers imagination, just like some authors I know. Hmm, I wonder—nahhh!
You're not gonna believe this. The other day I actually received an email from—get this—the IRS. (Isn't that against the law—impersonating a government agency) When I say I, I mean Dee Dawning, my pen name. Now I wish he could so I didn't have to, but I guarantee you Dee Dawning never filed a tax return, never gave an email address and never paid a cent to the Internal Revenue Service. The fact is Dee Dawning is a fictitious person—who wins contest, sweepstakes and helps little old widows spend their money.
Of course, though they sent me an email and knew my email address, like all spam letters, they never addressed me by name. That's because, while spammers and scammers may have your email address, they don't know you from Adam.
That's all for now folks. Maybe in another blog I'll go over the steps I use to cut down on spam etc. In the meantime…I have a new book that I just know you wanna hear all about.
Picking up where Angel Love leaves off, Randy weaves his spell of dominance and protection over beautiful black haired, blue eyed Mysta Ree as he had over equally beautiful April and Angel. Reintroducing her to the alluring, exciting, glamorous life of a high priced call girl, she had all but given up, she is anxious to please Randy and herself. Therefore, she resumes the life she, April and two other friends left behind seven years earlier, when as college juniors, the four had spent a debauched two week spring vacation as escorts in Las Vegas.
Mysta Ree is the long awaited third book of the very naughty, popular Consequences series. Those who have read April Showers and Angel Love won't want to miss the very sexy followup.
Warning: There are extreme sexual situations in this book.
Mysta Ree $2.00 off
"April agreed, but just as we were about to leave for Fancy Girls, her phone rang."
"Ah-huh. The three of us are at Houston's eating and catching up."
She lowered the phone from her ear and handed it to me. "He wants to talk to you."
I took her phone and placed it by my ear. "Yes, Randy."
"Hi babe. It's going to be a gorgeous night tonight. Meet me at the zoo at six-thirty. Have April drop you off. I'll be waiting for you beside my car in section C. It's a black G35 coupe. April knows it."
"What should I wear?"
"You wear the same size as April, right?"
"Go with her to our apartment. She has a short gold skirt and halter. Borrow it from her. Wear your hair in a long pony tail too. And Mysta."
Shivers coursed through me. "We're not going to have sex in public are we?"
He sighed. "It's part of your initiation."
I whined, "Randy, I can't do that."
"Six-thirty, I'll be waiting." His voice had an edge to it she hadn't heard since Vegas.
"I just can't." The phone was silent. "Randy?"
Angel and April looked at me with obvious concern.
"He hung up. What's his number?"
"Scroll down the stored numbers to Randy."
I did and pushed call. He answered, but all he said was, "If you don't come, it'll go hard on you," and then the line went dead again.
"What happened?" asked Angel, worry shading her eyes, "Did he answer?"
I nodded. "He said it'll go hard on me if I don't show."
"You don't even want to think about defying him. Where does he want you to meet him?"
I looked up at April. "He wants you to drop me off by his car at the zoo by six-thirty. He wants me to borrow some clothes from you."
Angel said, "We better get going then."
* * * *
An hour later April and I dropped Mysta, at Randy's black sports car. Dressed in his usual black, he tossed his cigarette when we pulled up and got out. Mysta looked sexy and splendid in April's low cut gold lamé skirt and halter with matching two inch wedge sandals. Her shapely but lean form and three foot long, black pony tail enhanced her overall appearance.
She looked like a princess out of an animated Walt Disney movie, but I knew beneath her demur countenance beat the heart of a wanton harlot, like me.
Nevertheless, when she unlatched the door and got out, she acted nervous as a cat locked in a dog kennel.