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Message-ID: <33187asstr$1004569805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Couture@literotica.org (Couture)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 31 Oct 2001 16:26:45 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} RP The Haunting of Heather Ch. 1 (F/Ghost, mast, MF)
Date: Wed, 31 Oct 2001 18:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Haunting of Heather Ch.1
by Pussy Kat
Couture@literotica.org

(F/Ghost, mast, MF)

Please do not read if under 18 years of age or 
offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.
   
Hi, my name is Pussy Kat, and this story is my brief 
autobiography.  Yes, that is my legal name now, but it 
wasn't always so.  You see, before my new life began 
my name used to be Heather Longly and I was employed 
as an Account Rep at Baum and Denslow.  It was there I 
met Bill, a very handsome and very married co-worker.  
We were always friendly and then one day I was 
assigned to a special project with Bill.  He began a 
little harmless flirting with me, and soon we were 
both playing a twisted game of tennis in our 
flirtations, batting touches and plays on words and 
lustful looks, instead of bright green balls.  

What was the harm?  He was married and unavailable and 
I didn't date co-workers.  I should have stopped it 
right there, but I grew to like him as a friend and 
eventually we started taking our lunches together.

It was during one of these lunches that I began to 
learn of his loveless marriage, to a wife who strayed 
to extremes in personality.  According to Bill, she 
would be almost manic in her need to control him both 
emotionally and sexually.  

I could understand emotional control, because I had 
used it a time or two to get what I wanted at work.  
However, I couldn't understand how a woman could 
sexually control a man, so I asked Bill about it and 
he just blushed and said, he didn't want to talk about 
it.

Bill said he had tried to leave her before, but she 
had threatened to kill herself.  He never tried to 
leave again, but another wedge had been driven into 
their relationship. He had even stopped having sex 
with her, because he was afraid to bring a child into 
that kind of environment.  Besides, he didn't really 
consider it making love, but rather being forced to do 
uncomfortable things for her pleasure.

That was enough to make me admire his compassion and 
dedication tremendously.  I felt compelled to tell him 
of my dreams, of becoming a writer; something that 
others I had told only scoffed at or dismissed as 
flights of fancy. However, Bill actually listened.

Bill continued to flirt playfully with me, but I no 
longer could respond with my quick comebacks.  "Cat 
got your tongue?" he would say.

I could only blush in response.  

Then one day as we were leaving to go home, Bill 
offered to walk me to my car.  As I opened my door, I 
felt his hand on my shoulder.  I turned around to see 
him looking deeply into my eyes.  

"Heather, I think I love you," he said, as he leaned 
in to kiss me.  

I knew it was wrong, but I melted in his embrace.  Our 
tongues danced, and I felt his hardness press against 
my belly.  A battle of little voices raged in my head.  
Why does he have to be married?  Come on, you are so 
hot, people do this all the time.  What about the 
consequences?  What will it hurt?  He doesn't love 
her.  She will find out and you will get in trouble.  

I love him.

"Let's go to my place," I said, still not believing 
the words had come out of my mouth.

I had never done anything so bold before, but I knew I 
had to have him.  On the way there, I was so scared my 
voice trembled as I gave him directions to my 
apartment.  We were both silent as we rode the 
elevator up to my apartment.  

"I don't know what to say Bill, I've never done 
anything like this before," I said, fumbling with my 
keys, as I tried to unlock my door.  

"Neither have I," he said.

As soon as we entered the apartment and the door was 
closed, Bill pushed me against the door and kissed me.  
He rubbed his hands all over my body, disrobing me as 
he went.  I tried to grind my hot sex against his 
hardness, but he stopped me.  

"Please, we can't leave any evidence," he said, as he 
took his clothes off and folded them neatly on the 
chair.   He laid me down on the couch, then made love 
to me.  As he thrust into me, I could feel him 
stiffen.  I hugged him close with my arms and legs, as 
I felt him twitch inside me with release.

He kissed me and hugged me after his climax.  Too 
soon, he stood up and took the condom off, tying it in 
a knot and leaving it on the coffee table.  He looked 
at me laying naked as he dressed.  I laid there naked, 
trying to look sexy, because a part of me wanted him 
to stay, though I knew he couldn't.  

"Sorry, Heather, but I have to go home.  At least for 
now," he said.  I looked into his eyes and could see 
the regret written in the lines of his face.  I got up 
and gave him a chaste kiss as he left out the door.

Yes Bill, your wife has a piece of paper, but I have 
you, I thought, as I felt the weight of his condom, 
before throwing it away.

This went on for the rest of October, until Halloween 
night.  Then disaster struck at the Halloween party at 
work.  He had come dressed as the Cowardly Lion and 
his wife Olivia had come dressed as a witch.  I was a 
little jealous, because she was still pretty even in 
her black pointy hat and cape.   Her skirt was long 
and black and hugged her narrow waist tightly, but 
what really made the outfit, were the tall high heels 
and black opera gloves.

Fortunately, I was prepared for anything she had to 
dish out.  I was wearing a black cat costume that Bill 
had helped me pick out.  The costume itself was quite 
simple, consisting of only a form fitting black body 
stocking, attached tail, and a hair-band with two 
furry ears attached.  It body suit covered me 
completely, but displayed every curve of my body.  I 
had never worn anything like that before, especially 
around people at work.  I had always been a rather shy 
girl, but I kept my body in shape and actually was 
glad to be wearing the cute costume, when I saw Bill's 
wife.

At the time, I felt so superior to her.  At the end of 
the night, I was sure Bill would remember her as the 
evil witch bitch and me as the cute sweet little 
kitten.

However, knowing she was there, made Bill and me 
uneasy.  We drank way more than we should have.  
However, while his wife was occupied talking with some 
other women, Bill caught my eye and motioned for me to 
follow him.

He took me away from the party and into one of unused 
offices.  "You looked so sexy tonight I just had to 
see you," he said pressing his body close to mine.

"We shouldn't do this," I protested, but I was already 
kissing him.  I could feel my nipples harden with 
arousal, by the very danger of the situation.  It was 
then that disaster struck.  I will never forget the 
rage and betrayal on Olivia's face, when she turned on 
the light.  

"You are not to come home tonight bastard, stay with 
your . . . " she sneered, looking at me as if I were 
trash.  " . . .Pussy." she finished.

Her truth of bitter comments stung me deep inside.  
What on earth possessed me to wear this costume?  
Suddenly, I didn't feel so sexy anymore.  I felt like 
a common whore and I looked like one too.  I took off 
my furry little cat ears, but the tail was sewn to the 
suit.  It followed me around, drawing attention to my 
bottom with every step.  As if to say, look everyone, 
look at the ass of the mistress.

I went home alone and Bill spent the night in a motel.  
The next morning at work, he had entered my cubicle 
with tears in his eyes.  "She killed herself last 
night," he sobbed.  

"Dear god, what happened?" I asked, my body suddenly 
going numb.

"She slit her wrists in the bathtub," he cried, his 
face red as tears fell down his face.  "The maid found 
her this morning."

I hugged him and he wept on my shoulder.  I began to 
cry too, remembering the look she had given me the 
night before.  It was as though she saw through all 
the civility and manners I hid behind, and saw the 
slut that was sleeping with her husband.

They held her funeral two days later.  I didn't 
attend.  How could I have looked at her, knowing that 
I had been responsible for her death.

Bill and I couldn't didn't talk after that.  It was 
our dirty secret, a secret we couldn't share with 
anyone, not even each other.  I tried to avoid places 
I might see him, because looking at him brought back 
memories.  Memories I tried to forget.

It was then, that things started to happen.  Things 
would disappear, then reappear where I had just 
looked.  I started to hear strange noises in my 
apartment, like doors opening and closing.  When I 
dreamed, it was of Olivia glaring at me or bleeding to 
death in her bathtub.  

My work began to suffer.  I was chronically late, 
because my alarm clock wouldn't go off or my keys 
would be misplaced.  My toothbrush would taste 
horrible, I suspected maybe someone was doing 
something to it while I was at work, so I tried 
putting it in a plastic bags and hiding underneath the 
towels.  However, when I took it out, I noticed that 
it was blue, just like the toilet water.  Finally, I 
bought a bunch, kept them in my purse, and threw it 
away after using it.

One night, after a particularly long day at work, I 
fixed myself a glass of wine and prepared to unwind 
with a luxurious bath.  I ran a bath, complete with 
bubbles, candles and soft music.  I took off my 
clothes, and stepped into the wonderfully hot water.  

I relaxed in the tub dozing lightly.  Suddenly I awoke 
with a start.   The bathroom and water felt freezing 
cold.  Chill bumps covered my breasts.  I could see my 
breath as I exhaled.  I pulled the drain plug, then 
glanced up to find my towel.  

On the fog covered mirror, I began to see letters 
forming, as if they were written by an invisible 
finger. 

P-U-S-S-Y

I tried to scream, but I couldn't get any sound to 
come out of my throat.  I scrambled to get out of the 
bathtub to flee this haunted place, nude as I was.
 
As I tried stood to get out of the tub, "Pussy . . . " 
The sound came from in front of my face, but there was 
nothing there!  I jumped back at the sound and huddled 
against the wall of the shower.  My body shut down in 
fright, I couldn't scream or move.  The contents of my 
bladder ran down my legs.

"We really must see about getting you toilet trained," 
the unseen female voice said, followed by maniacal 
laughter.
    
To my horror my hairdryer was floating above the 
bathtub.  "Sit back down in the tub Pussy, or you will 
join me in death," the sinister voice whispered from 
in front of me.  

This is not possible.  This is not possible, some 
distant part of me screamed, but I sat back down in 
the tub as ordered.  The smell of my urine was strong 
in my nostrils.  The voice, it was slightly familiar.  
Where had I heard it before?  The hatred in it was 
palpable.

"Take the mirror beside you and hold it up." I heard 
the voice say.  

Trembling, I picked up the mirror and looked into the 
glass. Numb fingers unclenched, and it shattered on 
the floor. The sound of breaking glass tinkling on the 
tiled floor passed in and out my ears, ignored. I 
began to hyperventilate at the face I'd seen in the 
reflection.

Olivia!

"We begin to understand each other now, don't we 
bitch?" said the voice of Olivia.  "Imagine my 
surprise, catching my husband kissing a Pussy at the 
Halloween party.  The look in his eyes told me 
everything I needed to know. 

I went home that night and slashed my wrists to end my 
misery.  My head was filled with hate for the person . 
. . the Pussy that ruined my life.  My awareness 
slowly faded away with every drop of my blood.  That 
should have been the end of it, but when I became 
aware again . . . I was stuck here watching you." 
Olivia said.

Watching me?  How much had she seen me do?  What about 
when I . . . dear God no!

"I've tried to leave you many times, but every time I 
do, I fade away, only to become aware of myself again 
. . . right back in your presence.  At first, I could 
only watch helplessly.  But lately, I have begun to be 
able to move things, to touch you when you sleep, and 
to be able to make you hear me."

The things that moved at night!  The dreams!  My 
toothbrush!  Suddenly things were beginning to make 
sense.  

"Now I'm left with this extremely difficult choice.  I 
can kill you and cut the strings trapping me here on 
this world, but probably sending my soul straight to 
hell in the process.  For all I know this may be my 
hell."

Kill me?  I felt emptiness inside as if my heart had 
been wretched out of my chest.  My bladder tried to 
void again, but it was empty.  "Please, please, I'm so 
sorry Olivia.  Don't kill me . . . I don't' want  to 
die!" I cried helplessly.

I only heard the sound of her heartless laughter as 
she finished speaking. "Then I realized there was 
another choice.  See, I could take my revenge on you 
and Bill.  Then I can have a little enjoyment while 
I'm stuck here with the Pussy.  Yes, I could have a 
heavenly time with that."

"Please, please, Olivia.  I didn't mean for it to 
happen.  I don't even see Bill anymore.  I never will 
again, I promise," I begged the ruthless spirit.  
"Please, anything just leave me be."

"The Pussy will spread her legs. I want to see the 
cunt of the slut that fucked my husband!"

The thought of being so helpless before this vengeful 
ghost terrified me.  I was afraid that if she saw my 
sex, the pussy that fucked her husband, she would fly 
into a rage and kill me.

"Please, I'm not a slut.  I've only been with two men 
in my life," I tried to reason with her, but one of 
the candles floated in the air and dumped its hot wax 
on my breasts.  "Owwww!" I screamed.

"Pussies that don't obey will be punished!"  Olivia 
cackled.

I tried to wipe the red trails of burning wax, from my 
breasts, but I only spread it making it worse.  I 
looked at all the candles burning in the bathroom, 
thinking of how much pain they could cause.  I spread 
my legs widely, exposing myself, baring the most 
intimate part of my body, to this evil spirit.

Cold body wash was dumped onto my sex, then a razor 
floated menacingly toward my crotch.  "Please, please 
don't cut me.  I'm begging you."  I sobbed as tears 
flowed down my cheeks.

"The Pussy needn't fear -- if she obeys."  Olivia 
said.

I closed my eyes and prayed as the razor slid over my 
sex.  As I lay there, spread open before the dead wife 
of my lover, a terrible thing happened: To my horror, 
my body had begun to react.  My labia were swollen and 
secretions dripped from my sex.  I closed my eyes and 
turned away, while the razor bared my lower lips and 
trimmed the patch above.

Why me?  Why me?  Why is my body betraying me, before 
the wife of my lover.  In my mind, I could imagine my 
clit sticking out, proving to her the kind of a slut I 
really was.  I was the kind of slut who slept with a 
married man, the kind of slut who gets aroused by his 
wife.

I felt relieved, when she cleaned the soap off my sex 
with a washcloth.  I looked down at her handiwork.  My 
lips had been shaven bare, but my dark pubes were now 
trimmed in a circle topped by two ears.  Dear god!  
She's trimmed it into a cat -- a pussycat.

"Open it now.  I want to see all of it," Olivia 
demanded.

I brought my fingers down and spread my labia for the 
evil spirit.  I was humiliated with the knowledge, 
that she would see that I was turned on.  

"Is the Pussy horny?" she asked, the venom practically 
dripping from her voice when she said horny.

"No," I said as I shook my head blushing.  

"Aiiiieeee!" I screamed as I felt the shock of molten 
wax burn my sex.  I tried to wipe the hot wax from my 
tender lips, but I felt her cold bony fingers holding 
my hands away. I squirmed uselessly in the tub in 
agony.  

Finally, the pain began to subside.  The only sounds 
in the bathroom were my sobs and ragged breath.  

"Pussies mustn't lie.  Open it again, for your new 
owner!" Olivia demanded.

I had never felt so utterly helpless before.  She had 
said owner!  I glanced down at my humiliating 
position.  Yes, she was my owner and I was a captive . 
. . a slave to this invisible spirit.  My legs opened 
again and tenderly, to avoid the splashes of wax, I 
parted the delicate petals of my pink flower.
  
"Is the Pussy horny?" Olivia asked, as if she were 
talking to a child.

"Yes ah I-I'm horny!" I replied meekly.  Just please 
don't get mad again.

"Yes, the Pussy is horny Mistress," she corrected me 
sternly.

"Yes, the Pussy is horny Mistress," I replied. What 
was worse, was that I really was horny.  My clit stuck 
out obscenely from my spread sex.  Wherever in the 
room Olivia was, I'm sure she could see the nectar 
begin to drip from the pink folds of my pussy.

"I bet the Pussy would like something inside her needy 
cunt, wouldn't she?" Olivia asked, her voice sweet, 
but slightly patronizing, once again.

If I had learned nothing else tonight, I had learned 
to answer and obey Olivia without hesitation.  "Yes 
Mistress, the P-Pussy would like s-something in her 
cunt," I sobbed.

"The Pussy may get out of the tub now."

I got out of the tub, dried off, then picked up a robe 
. . . "Aigh!" I cried looking down to see my nipple 
being pinched between invisible fingers and then 
pulled away from my body.

"The Pussy shall remain naked in this house."  Olivia 
said, twisting my nipple to emphasize her point.

I cried out in pain from her mistreatment of my 
sensitive orbs, but quickly dropped the robe.  Her 
pinch slackened, but did not release.  Then she pulled 
me forward by my nipple, leading me like a beast 
through my apartment.

I was led by my nipple, past the open blinds of my 
apartment, into my dining room.  "The blinds!" I cried 
out in embarrassment.  

"What's wrong?  The Pussy was so eager to show off her 
charms at the party," Olivia said, as she tugged my 
nipple in a circle, causing me to pirouette for anyone 
who might be looking.

Then she led me over to the dining room table. "Here 
hold this, until I come back." She pinched my nipple 
and pulled it up. 

Hesitantly, I reached and took my nipple from her 
grasp.  It was hard and shots of pleasure shot through 
my body as I grasped it.  I burned with humiliation as 
I stood there, obediently holding my breast stretched 
out into the air for her.  However, as much as I hated 
to admit it, my body yearned for me to touch the other 
one.


I watched in horror, as the small end of one of the 
decorative gourds in a Halloween arrangement in the 
center of the table, began to point into the air.  The 
green and white-striped fruit, looked perversely like 
a penis sticking up.

"I believe the Pussy was saying she needed something 
to stick in her needy cunt." A vase spontaneously 
exploded, when she said the word cunt.  I jumped in 
fear at this display of her anger.  "She will do it on 
her own or I will do it for her in another hole."

"Please Mistress, please."  I pleaded with the cold-
hearted bitch.  I trembled in fear and humiliation at 
the thought of performing such an intimate act in 
front of her.  However, having the large knotty 
bulbous fruit up my ass wasn't an option. I bent over 
to pick up the gourd.

"The Pussy knows what to do with it. She will do it in 
front of the living-room widow, so she can learn the 
embarrassment and humiliation I endured at the party."  
There was no sympathy in her voice, just the coldness 
of revenge.  Nor could I look in her eyes to see any 
of my pleading softened her.  

Tears filled my eyes again, at the hopelessness of my 
situation.  "Please, not the in front of the window, 
someone might see.  Please, Mistress, I'll do 
anything."  I begged.

"The Pussy has a choice.  She will stick her new 
friend in her cunt in front of the window or I ram it 
up her ass, so hard she will have to wear diapers to 
work.  The Pussy has three seconds to decide."

"Three"

"Two"

I grabbed a chair from the table and Olivia took my 
nipple from my fingers and led me in front of the 
window.  I followed her, clutching the gourd to my 
chest.  It was a large, dry, bumpy gourd and I knew 
without a doubt, I didn't want it in my ass.

I sat down in the chair and tried not to think about 
the uncovered window.  I began to insert the small end 
of the gourd in my sex.  It wasn't long until I could 
feel my wetness flow.  I looked out over the New York 
skyline and the rain running down the glass, I 
wondered who could see me, apparently sitting there by 
myself, fucking my cunt with this yellow and green 
phallus.  

"Ugh!" I groaned, as I pushed it in deeper, its 
coldness invading my cunt.  I could feel every bump on 
the curved gourd as it penetrated my stretched 
opening.  It felt surprisingly good.

"The big end goes first, if the pussy is to get it out 
later," Olivia said.

I turned it around and looked at the big end.  It was 
so big! Why it was at least three inches in diameter, 
there was no way I could fit it in my sex.  However, I 
knew my Mistress wasn't going to be satisfied until I 
did as she commanded.

I spread my legs widely, resting my feet on the cold 
glass of the window as I pushed my ass to the edge of 
the chair.  I opened myself as wide as possible 
because the gourd was big.  Much bigger than anything 
I had ever imagined putting in my sex.  

I turned the fruit around, trying to push the big end 
past the tight grommet of my gate.  Getting it started 
was the hardest part, it was cold and it stretched my 
poor pussy as I struggled to grow accustomed to its 
girth.  

I glanced at the window again and I could make out my 
reflection.  The woman in the reflection looked like 
she trying to give birth in one of those 
documentaries.  However, instead of a baby coming out, 
she was trying to cram the large end of a gourd into 
her cunt.

I was mortified, yet a tiny part of me that I didn't 
even know existed before, loved the reflection.  She -
- I mean me, was getting what she deserved for acting 
like a slut and screwing a married man.  She was 
getting what she had coming to her.  Cumming, yes, I 
wanted to cum.  I wanted to cum on the bumpy flesh of 
the gourd.  I deserved the pleasure, pain, and 
humiliation that I was receiving from Olivia.  Olivia 
couldn't hate me as much as I hated myself at that 
moment.

A whine rose up in my throat, as I began to push the 
gourd in.  I pushed it painfully hard in an attempt to 
punish myself. To punish the part of my body that had 
caused this trouble.  My flesh yielded and I was 
filled to my capacity as the the large round base slid 
home.  I could feel an orgasm teasing me from my 
stretched sex, just a little more and it will be all 
mine, I thought as I began to push the gourd in a 
little further.

"Hands off Pussy, I know what you are trying to do!" 
demanded the vengeful voice of the spirit, before 
breaking out in hysterical laughter.

Reluctantly, I obeyed my Mistress.  As my pleasure 
faded, reality once again returned.  My mind recalled 
the open window, the dead wife of my lover, and the 
neck of the gourd sticking obscenely from my sex.

"Move your hands underneath your legs and spread 
yourself wide.  I'm sure the Pussy is familiar with 
that position." Olivia said superiorly.

Yes, I had been spread before . . . for her husband, 
but that was different, that was making love, not 
domination.  The worse part of it was my body couldn't 
tell the difference.  It was almost as if it craved 
the domination from Olivia more than the tender love 
of her husband.  

I reached under my legs and spread myself out for 
anyone who may have been looking.  I'm sure they could 
have seen the top of the yellow-green phallus buried 
in my cunt and the little winking eye of my ass.
 
"The Pussy will sleep here tonight . . . just like 
that."

I trembled in fear as I felt her cold invisible 
fingers run between my thighs and grab the neck of the 
gourd and begin to fuck me with short tiny strokes.  I 
tried to resist her . . . to think of driving in heavy 
traffic or a busy day at work, but the Pussy would not 
be denied. My breath quickened, my lips parted, and my 
breasts swelled.  I began to rock in time with her 
strokes.  Olivia rewarded my participation and 
submissiveness by increasing the speed and penetration 
of her strokes.  

Please don't let me cum, I begged my body.  Please, 
this is wrong, don't respond to this.  I thought of 
the people in the other building staring at the 
perverted slut in the window, fucking the air.  There 
was no way they could know that I was being controlled 
by a vengeful spirit I couldn't see or fight. They 
would only see the slut, whose body was betraying her 
once again.  My bare feet pressed against the cold 
glass, while my hips rose off the chair and humped of 
their own volition.

"Ahhhh . . . " I groaned, as the gourd was suddenly 
pushed extremely deep into my sex.  I wished I could 
cry, but instead of tears, I could only feel the wet 
secretions drip from my sex, running down my cleft and 
pool in the chair.

As much as I hated to admit it, admit it I did.  My 
Mistress took me to the edge, then back again.  
Always, she kept me on the brink, but never quite far 
enough to achieve climax.  The Pussy is horny, please 
let the pussy cum.  Please Mistress, your Pussy needs 
to cum so bad.

"Do you feel helpless Pussy?  Can you imagine how 
helpless I felt that night at the Halloween party?  
Does the Pussy want to cum?  Can she feel how 
desperate I was that night?" she asked my again and 
again, as if I were a naughty nasty little girl.  

"Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  I'm so sorry Mistress . . . please 
please . . . I'll do anything, I promise.  Just 
please, let the Pussy *cum*!"  I was a naughty girl.  
I was a naughty girl who slept with her husband!  I 
was only a Pussy that was desperate to cum!


"I'll hold you to that promise slut," she said, as she 
fucked me relentlessly with the gourd.  
As I climaxed, I felt something break in me as liquid 
pleasure suddenly rushed forth from my sex.  "Ahhhh . 
. . Ahhhh  . . .  Yes . . . Fuck . . . Aiiiiieeeee!" I 
screamed at the top of my lungs.  I had never been a 
screamer before, but then again, I had never cum 
before . . . not like that.

Suddenly, I felt her cold body press on top of me; she 
hugged me tightly, trapping me in the chair, as her 
legs slipped under mine.  I felt the bitter cold seep 
down into the marrow of my bones, chilling my very 
soul.  My scream from my climax was cut off, as her 
mouthed push against mine, stealing the breath from my 
lungs.  I gasped trying to suck it back, helplessly 
accepting her probing tongue.  I could feel my orgasm 
explode, while I saw stars and my lungs burned.  
Helplessly, I gave up my last breath to her . . . 

If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the 
author.  Your comments are their only payment.  
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is 
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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