Wednesday, September 25, 2013

#MIHBlog - What past secret are YOU hiding? Guest Post by S.S. Hampton Sr.


          Many, many years ago there was a hit song by the Temptations that contained the line, “Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes / They don’t tell the truth…”

          Truer words were never spoken.

          Hand in hand with the truth above is the fact that of the many things that people get themselves into trouble over, money and/or sex is at the top of the list. All you have to do is scan the news media and every day there is someone in trouble over…money and/or sex. These two temptations are not the reserve of the rich and famous, or politicians—even ordinary men or women are tripped up by the temptations of money and/or sex. It happens in Las Vegas (of all places) or Washington, D.C., or even in the heartland of Kansas.

          In Las Vegas, when I am away from the world-famous Strip and journeying through my daily routine of college classes, food shopping, traveling on the city bus, and walking from the bus stop to the college and back, with a stop for an occasional beer, I encounter people of all ages. Smiling people, scowling people, and poker-faced people. I always look at their eyes; sometimes I nod “hello,” other times I just glance at them.

          Other times, such as when I am having a beer, I simply watch people pass by.

          Sometimes, but not always, I wonder what secrets each person harbors. What has that smiling person been up to? Or the scowling person? And the poker-faced person…has that person been up to something? And couples—what have they been up to? Or maybe, what are all of these people planning to do, that will become future secrets?

          On the Strip of course, it is a good bet that almost everyone is harboring a secret, or about to do something that they will keep secret. After all, this is Las Vegas. And we all know that “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Ha! The thing about secrets involving money and/or sex is that, like military secrets, secrets involving money and/or sex do not stay secret forever.

          So, if I encountered you, I might nod “hello” or simply glance at you. Either way, I will look at your eyes. And I will think, “What secret is this person hiding?” Or, “What is this person planning to do that will become a secret?”

          So, ahem, what past secret are you hiding? Or maybe, what are you planning that will become a future secret?

          You know you can tell us…

About the Author:

SS Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, a published photographer and photojournalist, and a member of the Military Writers Society of America.

He retired on 1 July 2013 from the Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve (1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Army National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007).

His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.

Second-career goals include becoming a painter and studying for a degree in photography and anthropology—hopefully to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology. After 12 years of brown desert in the Southwest and overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters. As of December 2011 in Las Vegas, Nevada, Hampton officially became a homeless Iraq War veteran.


Sharing Rachel -  
MuseItUp Publishing, forthcoming Spring 2014.


Burt and Rachel Markham are ordinary small business owners of a seed & feed store in a small Kansas farming and ranching community. Many years before, as young university graduates eagerly anticipating exciting overseas employment, a lifetime in Kansas was the furthest thing from their minds, particularly Rachel who was raised overseas and dreamed of going back.

By July 2013 their twin 18-year old daughters, having graduated high school several months before, go east to attend a university. Burt and Rachel settle into their new life of an empty house and a predictable and unchanging routine that threatens to stretch far into the future.

One summer evening Burt has an idea—but will Rachel accept the idea? If she does, will the idea add new excitement to their marriage, or destroy it?


Life—the sum of many parts gathered into a raw and uninhibited whole and unashamedly and breathlessly lived to the fullest…

          One part trapped heat and humidity, a thick, heavy embrace that fills the air and envelopes the flesh like a thing alive.

          One part pungent scents swirling through the air and becoming a powerful, intoxicating aphrodisiac. Each provocative scent with its own story. The hot musky scent of feminine wetness and the stronger scent of masculine sex blended into its own particular smell. The individual smells of feminine sweat and perfume mingled with masculine sweat and cologne. And all of the resulting mixtures blended into a strong overpowering fragrance of consuming lust and pleasure.

          One part sound for sound gives unseen life and strength to the spoken and unspoken. A female voice that moans “Ohhhh shit!” or screams “OH MY GOD!” followed by lengthy, rising whimpers that end in pleasure-filled shrieks needs no explanation; nor does feminine unintelligible babbling answered by a deep chuckle when accompanied by the rapid, endless slapping of wet flesh against wet flesh. In between the voices are long periods of silence broken only by the whisper of classical music, the rustle of bed sheets, the creak of bedsprings, and the sound of joined, intimate sticky wetness. Finally, deep grunts followed by much satisfied long, drawn out sighs from the feminine and masculine says it all.

          One part sight for the visual binds the many parts together; blue-hued shadows and pale highlights playing across writhing shadowy forms, one smaller, curvaceous and feminine, the other bulkier and masculine, pantomimes an unspoken story. The feminine raised on elbows, head hung back, long hair brushing against damp bed sheets, a leg draped over the masculine with trembling pointed foot and toes curled tight. The masculine, resting on arms with hands placed on the bed, head lowered to a pale, blue-tinted breast, while hips move with a rhythmic passion between spread legs. The shadows joined together speak silently of lust, pleasure, domination, and submission.

          All of the sums gathered together and witnessed, for without a witness there is no remembrance of a moment lived to the fullest. Against the far wall of a bedroom loft, beside a glowing nightstand lamp, brown eyes watched and took in every detail.

          Sometimes the feminine looked with dazed blue eyes at the glazed brown eyes of the watcher seated in a large easy chair.

          For a brief moment their eyes meet. For a brief moment, without touching, the feminine and the watcher share the heavy humid heat of the room, the incredible smells, and the sounds of endless pleasure from the feminine and masculine joined together.

          And then the feminine returned to the private universe within that would always be unseen by and unshared with anyone…


Anonymous said...

Hi Stan;) Sorry I'm a little late to your the post - makes me curious about your secrets:) Congrats on your upcoming release!!

Anonymous said...

Kay Dee,

Hi. No problem - and thanks. Ahem, secrets? What secrets? Ah, I don't have no secrets - that I can admit to. :-)