Jethro Quotes

Kiss me" “You’re a fucking nightmare.” “Kiss me.” “You’re ruining my life.” “Kiss me, Jethro. Kiss me.

In the beginning Man created God; and in the image of Man created he him.

Jethro had successfully torn me from my past, stripped me of my mind, and abducted my heart.

Sanguine chuckled. "I like you, boy. You got optimism in these bones. I like you so much that I ain't gonna tell you what I did to poor old Jethro, the first Jethro, may he rest in peace, may they someday find his head.

As if my world was dark and Jethro was the sun bringing me nutrition I never knew I needed.

Kiss me,Nila. Let me bring you back to life. - Jethro

I changed my mind.” “You changed—” “My. Mind.” I stopped short and faced him, placing my hands on my hips. “It’s like underpants, Jethro.” “Dirty and dark?” He smirked. “No.” I scowled at his facial expression. “A mind is like underpants because people change them all the time.” “But you don’t.” “I do change my underpants all the time, Jethro. And, for the record, I think it’s mighty rude of you to assume I don’t.” He almost rolled his eyes, but caught the urge. “I meant your mind, Cletus. You don’t change your mind.

Where I'm from," Tom tilted his head to the side, "they call your kind a hipster or a lumbersexual, with the beard and flannel and such." Without missing beat, Jethro responded, "Ah. See, where I'm from, they call my kind a man.

I found you. I stole you. I took you from others who didn’t appreciate the gift of what you are, and now I’m never letting you go.” Jethro

Live for me. Breathe for me. Come back to life for me.

Can’t you understand that I’ve been fucked up ever since I first texted you? I’m insane, but you’re the only cure for my insanity.” Jethro

I wouldn’t just kiss you. I would hold your cheeks and worship your mouth. I would devour your lips and make drunken love to your tongue. I would fucking inhale you, so you would live forever in my lungs...

In his late twenties, Jethro wore command like one would wear cologne.

You will let me inside you. And you will let me own you. You will, because we don’t have a choice. You’re inside me. Don't you get it? You’re inside ME and it’s only fair that I’m inside you.” - Jethro

Can't we kidnap Old Jethro, force him to help us, then vanquish him and the healer?" Bran choked on his drink.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. Nothing could’ve taught me to feel this way. I’m ready to forget everything. I’m ready to be selfish and steal you like you stole me.” Jethro

It's no use here anymore," Jethro said, "I'm utterly disillusioned with our progress in this klutzy, religion-addicted country.

Out of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most.” ― Mark Twain ~Jethro~

I can feel you. I know that doesn’t make sense, but the moment you give in to me; the moment you let yourself submit...it saves me. I can’t explain it, but you heal me, Nila.” Jethro

I should’ve saved you the first time I saw you.” “You did save me.” “How?” “You fell in love with me.

She was mine as much as I was hers. Now and for always. Alive or dead. We were one.

Why couldn’t life be like storybooks? Jethro sighed, hugging me hard.

Pressing her breasts against my chest, she whispered in my ear, “I came here to be filled, taken, ridden. I came to find you again. I came to remind you of what we have. I came for so many reasons, Jethro, but most of all, I came to save you.

You killed my pappy," said the youth, "and my pappy's pappy. And his pappy's pappy. And my brothers Jethro, Hank, Hoss, Red, Peregrine, Marsh, Junior, Dizzy, Luke, Peregrine, George and all the others. I'm callin' you out, lawman.

I let him hold me. I let him shake and shudder. Time held no meaning as we existed in each other’s embrace and fed each other with love and togetherness. I would hold him for the rest of my life and ensure he never felt anything but acceptance, adoration, and unconditional love.

Jethro closed his eyes, a small grin curving his mouth, and whispered like it was a secret, "Thank you for being lost." I smiled and whispered in return, "Thank you for finding me.

Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.” ― L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl   ~Jethro~

I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You do too, liar.” Jethro gave me an easysmile, laughing, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Duane let it slip.” “Duane?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Duane doesn’t talk. How could he have let it slip? Did he do an interpretive dance?

I’m asking you to make me yours,” I murmured. “Take me into your heart. Let me enter your soul. Give in to what we have.”- - Nila

You and your saying of sweet things, it does something to me. You do something to me." Jethro's mouth hitched to the side with a pleased smile. "Happy to hear it. Because when I'm with you, I feel like I'm both flying and falling.

I may make you feel but I can't make you think....your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink.....

Feel me. Feel how much I want you—not just now, but for the rest of our lives.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” ― Kahlil Gibran ~Jethro~

You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to feel worthy of that. To like myself. To be able to live with what I am.” “You don’t have to live with yourself anymore. You live with me. Let me love you enough for both of us.

What are we doing?” I asked, feeling restless. “Taking comfort.” That made me smile, so I peered up at him. “You’re taking comfort in me?” “Yes.” My smile grew and I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the moment. Gradually, I heard a symphony of sounds rise around us. Wind played through the grass, rustled the small but plentiful leaves of a nearby lonely oak. Crickets and other insects chirped and hummed. I felt the beat of Jethro’s heart in his fingertips and where I gripped his wrists. My heart slowed until it matched the rhythm of his. My restlessness eased until it faded away, eclipsed by the stillness, the comfort of being close, yet barely touching. And I took comfort in him.

What do you want from me, Nila? You want to know that I fucking love you more than I can stand? That I’m breaking because I know I’m not good enough for you? What ?” My world stood still. “...I fucking love you...” He admitted it.

I see the way you look at me. I feel the way you touch me. I hear the hidden messages in your voice. Unlike you, I’ve been blessed knowing the warmth that comes with love. The way a person’s eyes glow and body softens. You love me! And if you can stand there and deny it—when it’s so blatantly obvious—then there really is no hope for us. You might as well march me outside and complete the Final Debt, because I’d rather you kill me quickly than live through this endless death!”-Nila

If I could retrieve my words I would, grab them out of the sky and hide them where they can't be seen.

Jethro, you have been a most helpful captive." "Are you... are you going to let me live?" Sanguine's grin grew wider. "Not even remotely.

Jethro's flat was in a warehouse that, even from the outside, looked very pleased with its own conversion.

Jethro. That's all good. I got me a live one." ~Thomas AKA Jethro.

Congratulations, Jethro. She’s sweet on you. You’ve just taken one the world’s most famous role models of feminine independence and turned her into a giddy, flustered mess of hormones.

Shelly doesn’t have a cell phone?” Roscoe crossed his arms.“How does she survive?” “Air, food, and shelter, I suspect.” Billy sent our youngest brother a dry look, making Jethro laugh.

My old black cat, he passed away this morning. He never knew what a heartache was. Woke up late and he danced till noon. If questioned why, answered just because. He never spoke much, preferring silence. Eight lost lives was all he had.

We all did a lot of staring that day. The point that struck me as most interesting about our collective staring was the objects at which people stared. Jethro stared out the window. Billy stared at the fireplace. Cletus stared at the front door. Beau stared at the kitchen table. Duane stared at the refrigerator. Roscoe stared at Momma’s sewing desk. I sat in my recliner and stared at the spot where the hospital bed had been.

The abode of the Midianites is to be looked for near the place where the city of Medina is today. This name Medina may likely be a remnant of the habitation of the Midianites there. The identification of Midian and Medina may be further substantiated by the name of the Midianite priest, Jethro. The old Arabian name of Medina is Yathrib.

All this time it had been quite plain to Hare that the others knew nothing about Spectacles.

There was a time when love was the law. There was a time for the tooth and the claw, Last rites given, no holds barred. Heaven express on my credit card.

Well, maybe he was Jesus but his hair could have used a comb.

You're good for me," I say. "The light to my shade." "Then you're the night to my day. A person needs both, you know.

I left behind my humanity. I tore Nila from my heart. I embraced the motherfucking ice my father had taught me. This would kill me. But it had to be done. I stepped into the darkness and prepared to murder.

Flaw chuckled. “Good God, man, you have no shame.” I wanted him to bugger off. My heart disintegrated and my core clenched to have Jethro inside me again. I was wet, wanting. Jethro laughed. “I’m not embarrassed to be honest for the first time in my life. This woman is mine. I love her, and I don’t fucking care who knows it.

Happiness takes many forms. It can range from comfortably existing in silence while playing chess to watching Moka eat Jethro’s cables while he tries to wrestle her away. It’s listening to Kayden’s steady heartbeat when I fall asleep and knowing he’s here with me. It's how he smiles upon seeing me after a whole day of being apart, how he hugs and kisses me as if he can breathe only when I’m around. It’s hearing Rachel and Jina’s stories about a younger, mischievous, but incredibly smart Kayden and seeing his baby albums. I might have even made them give up a few pictures so I could frame and keep them in that shrine I have of him. Happiness is Kayden and Kayden is happiness. They’re one and the same in my mind.

It's unfortunate that the more annoyed she gets, the prettier she looks.

I want to be wherever you are.

People make promises that they have every intention of keeping at the time but when it comes to cashing in, suddenly the promise loses all value.

This is my story and Jethros' journey, through my eyes

You don’t know anything, Jethro Hawk.

I nominate this song as the "Song for the group" (from the Benefit CD): Chorus from the song "Inside" by Jethro Tull for it's positive mention of "joe": I'm sittin' in the corner feelin' glad, got no money comin' in but I can't be sad, That was the best cuppa coffee I ever had, And I won't worry about a thing because we got it made, here on the Inside outside's so far away.

Jethro had been the disappointment. I'd been the clown. Individually we had become more. But together and with each other, we didn't need to be our labels. We were free to just be ourselves.

Jethro huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You know, Beau. You’re a lot more like Cletus then you let on.” “Thank you.” Beau grinned at me. “In lightof recent events, I’ll take that as a compliment.

Q: Assume everything about your musical tastes was reversed overnight. Everything you once loved, you now hate; everything you once hated, you now love. For example, if your favorite band has always been R.E.M., they will suddenly sound awful to you; they will become the band you dislike the most. By the same token, if you’ve never been remotely interested in the work of Yes and Jethro Tull, those two groups will instantly seem fascinating. If you generally dislike jazz today, you’ll generally like jazz tomorrow. If you currently consider the first album by Veruca Salt to be slightly above average, you will abruptly find it to be slightly below average. Everything will become its opposite, but everything will remain in balance (and the rest of your personality will remain unchanged). So—in all likelihood—you won’t love music any less (or any more) than you do right now. There will still be artists you love and who make you happy; they will merely be all the artists you currently find unlistenable. Now, I concede that this transformation would make you unhappy. But explain why.

Wolfe,” Wolfe said. “I’m Jet’s best friend.” Jethro paused and then just let the moment unfold. “Oliver’s dark eyebrow rose as he also adopted a flat Iowaesque accent. “Jet doesn’t usually have friends.” “I’m special,” Wolfe drawled.

pure air, sunshine, properly prepared food, nonpoisonous herbs, water treatments, pure water to drink, abstemiousness (moderation), foods not robbed of their life-giving properties during manufacture, and cleanliness of body and premises.

Why should he choose me? He barely even knew me. But souls were wise things. They always knew before the brain or the heart. There was no discriminating—if you saw your perfect other…you knew—instantly. There was something there from the beginning. Just like there had been for us. And it would remain there until Jethro successfully tore it out and killed it. Because even though we were linked by this fragile, fluttering thing, it wouldn’t take much to ruin. It was already on the brink.

Jethro, be reasonable. I'm here by order of the President. Do you understand? The President of the United States—the most powerful man in the world.” “Anyone who swears on a Bible to get inaugurated into his job doesn't qualify as powerful to me.

Maybe Jethro, Claire, and I can live together in harmony. Maybe she can be my sister wife. Yes. That was the answer. She could have her pretty farmhouse and custody of Jethro on Sundays. I could have him the rest of the week. And if she touched him, I would claw her eyes out. Perfect.

How’s the coffee?” “She hasn’t had any yet,” Cletus answered for me, then added, “but she wants you to ask her on a date tonight, no place public. Somewhere private, for discussing things.” Jethro’s eyes widened, and he glared at his brother’s reflection in the rearview mirror, snapping, “Cletus.” “Don’t clutch your pearls at me, big brother. Look at her, for hootenanny’s sake. She’s got the hots for your ugly face, Lord help her. And I know you’ve been thinking about her, judging by how long you took in the bathroom this morning.” I clamped a hand over my mouth just as shocked laughter burst from my lips. “Dammit, Cletus,” Jethro growled, turning the ignition and shooting his brother an incendiary look. “You are the worst. Just, don’t speak. Ever. Don’t speak ever again.” Jethro’s gaze darted to me then away as he sighed, looking remorseful. “I’m so sorry.” I placed my hand on Jethro’s thigh—FYI he had a really nice thigh—to ease his mind and because I wanted to touch him. “No, no. Please don’t apologize. He’s right and he’s wrong. I do have the hots for your face, but it isn’t at all ugly.” At this Cletus snorted and grumbled, “Well, it ain’t pretty.” Jethro pressed his lips together and I could see the hint of a smile there amidst his frustration. “Glad you have the hots for my face.” “Just ask her out already,” Cletus demanded. “She ain’t doing anything tonight. You two will go out tonight.

He flipped through channels until he found reruns of NCIS. "Understanding murder is simple compared to understanding a woman, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You been married a bunch of times. What advice would you give me?" He talked to the character on the television. Gibbs said, "Grab your gear.

Billy helped,” Jethro said, his voice held hesitation. “Billy?” Duane didn’t try to mask his surprise; he and Beau stared at each other, communicating for several seconds without talking. The twins’ ability to impart thoughts through a look had always been frustrating. I didn’t like being left out of a conversation. “Yes. Billy. Billy helped,” I confirmed irritably. “And will you two cease discussing with your eyeballs. There are several other people in the room who can’t brain-link.” Duane lifted an eyebrow, his eyes darting from me to Beau and then quickly to the floor. “Fine, Cletus. Cool your engine.” I grunted, but said nothing. I didn’t want to pick a fight with Duane. I only had a few more weeks of him hanging around and the thought depressed me. He was a grumpy, brooding little bastard who had the habit of only speaking when spoken to—and sometimes not even then. I was going to miss him.

With Catty and Patrick's images in he side mirror waving from the steps of that house like Jethro and Ellie Mae, it occurred to me that something extraordinary had happened. I had effortlessly found a place of acceptance -- a place where people had taken me for me, not for what I could give them -- and I had left it.

I had memorised Deep Purple’s Made in Japan note for note. Every drumbeat, every thud of Ian Paice’s bass-drum beater, I had tried to replicate. Ditto the first Black Sabbath album, Aqualung by Jethro Tull, plus my eccentric collection of Van der Graaf Generator albums and treasured copy of Wild Turkey’s first offering.

I'm glad we're sitting here now. Even if it does smell like a grandma convention.

The only other time I've seen Paul cry was when he got hit in the teeth with a cricket bat when he was fourteen. And that time Diana made us watch 'Bambi'.

Whatever fantasy I had in my head of what Wolfboy looks like, it's now clear I haven't been fantasising hard enough, not nearly.

How selfish and dark it was to count my blessings based on another's hell

Integrity and trust, they matter

Blake peers around Amelia's shoulder. "He looks like Sleeping Beauty." "Don't ever say that to his face," says Wolfboy."Actually, do. If he wakes up, promise me you'll say that to his face.

When punk and new wave styles exploded in the late ’70s, some established artists were nimble enough to respond to the changes around them. Some grumbled, “What am I supposed to do, forget how to play?”, and continued to ride their dinosaurs into extinction, but others willingly adapted to the streamlining and back-to-basics urges of the times, without giving up all they had learned. Former Genesis singer Peter Gabriel, for example, or former Yes keyboardist Trevor Horn, continued to produce vital, influential music through the ’80s and ’90s. Ian Anderson has continued to lead Jethro Tull out of the ’60s and ’70s and quietly through the decades, making high quality music and finding a large enough audience to continue recording and touring worldwide.

You're polite and sensitive, and you always try to do the right thing by people. And according to my friend Kara - you remember the blonde woman from last night? - you wear a pair of jeans very well.

Congratulations, Jethro. Happy for you.” “Thanks, Drew.” The two men stared at each other and something passed between them, an understanding of some sort. “Oh great, now Drew and Jethro can mind-meld. I’m getting out of here.” I turned from the group and their chuckles. “Come on, Cletus. Stick around. I’ll gaze longingly into your eyes. Us single guys need to stick together,” Beau called after me.

Cletus Byron Winston, you are being rude.” I might have my own less than glowing thoughts about my father, but he was my father. He opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut and did a double take, his eyes narrowing on me. “First of all, how do you know my middle name?” “Your momma used to use it when you were naughty, when you boys would help her shelve books in the library. ‘Cletus Byron! Stop stuffing Astrophysics Monthly down your pants!’” Cletus grinned. Then he chuckled. His eyes lost some of their zealous focus as he pushed away from the tree and strolled closer. “Oh yeah. She did, didn’t she?” “I felt sorry for Billy, though.” I scooched to one side as he sat down. “His name always confused everyone, like your momma was trying to talk to Shakespeare’s ghost. ‘William Shakespeare, would you please stop Beauford from pulling down his pants in front of the girls?’” Cletus laughed harder, leaning backward and holding his stomach. “I remember that. How old was Beau?” “He was ten. He was trying to show us his new Tarzan underwear. I don’t think he meant any harm.” “He sure did love that underwear.” Cletus nodded and he scratched his beard. “I’m going to have to find him some Tarzanunderwear in adult size.” “So you can torture him about it?” He pretended to be shocked by my accusation. “Certainly not. I don’t torture my siblings.” “Yeah, right.” I gave him my side-eye. “You forget, I’m a people watcher. I know you sell embarrassing pictures of them onstock photo sites. Jethro was griping about it after church over the summer. If it’s not torture, what do you call it then?” He lifted his chin proudly. “I offer invaluable character building opportunities. I help them reach their true potential through suffering.” “Oh, please

Moreover thou shalt provide out of all the people able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness; and place such over them, to be rulers of thousands, and rulers of hundreds, rulers of fifties, and rulers of tens

Hair" There is great mystery, Simone, In the forest of your hair. It smells of hay, and of the stone Cattle have been lying on; Of timber, and of new-baked bread Brought to be one’s breakfast fare; And of the flowers that have grown Along a wall abandonèd; Of leather and of winnowed grain; Of briers and ivy washed by rain; You smell of rushes and of ferns Reaped when day to evening turns; You smell of withering grasses red Whose seed is under hedges shed; You smell of nettles and of broom; Of milk, and fields in clover-bloom; You smell of nuts, and fruits that one Gathers in the ripe season; And of the willow and the lime Covered in their flowering time; You smell of honey, of desire, You smell of air the noon makes shiver: You smell of earth and of the river; You smell of love, you smell of fire. There is great mystery, Simone, In the forest of your hair. Contemporary French Poetry, edited by Jethro Bithell (Wentworth Press March 4th 2019) reply | edit | delete | flag *

If I wanted ultimate honesty for him, I had to be prepared to do the same. It hurt to look deep inside—to give myself no room to hide and to come face to face with a girl I no longer recognised. But I did it. Because I was strong and brave and ready to give in order to receive. “No matter how screwed up and wrong the past few months have been, they’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Jethro sucked in a breath. “If a guardian angel had told me this would happen. If they’d come to me the night before you stole me and explained the atrocities I would live through, I would still have come with you.” A groan cut short as Jethro froze in place. “I would’ve waited for you with open arms. I would’ve gladly said goodbye to my life and let you torment me because it made me a better person—a stronger person—a person worthy of what I feel for you.” I stiffened. “So don’t tell me you wish you’d never met me, Jethro Hawk, because I would live a thousand debts just for the gift of having you love me.

Jethro exploded. “It would’ve been better than me fighting a fucking battle every damn day with how much I want to fuck you!” My heart swooped, nipples pebbling with the tormented need in his voice. “Don’t you think I have the same problem? How can I live with the knowledge that I hate you, that you’re my future killer, yet I can’t stop my body from craving you? Don’t you think I hate the fact that you make me wet against my wishes?” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Jethro froze, panting hard. The silence was deafening.

Henny Penny," says Lupe. "Do you know this story?" I shake my head. Conversations with her can turn cryptic in the blink of an eye. "She thinks the sky is falling. Do you see my meaning?" "Not really." "Sometimes you have to let the world end, so you can build a new one.

She puts her hand forward. "Come on, let's do a yay team!" Blake immediately puts her hand on top of Nia's. "I'm not doing that," I say. "Wolfie, do not deny us this simple pleasure. C'mon." I roll my eyes and put my hand on top of theirs. "Yay team!" Squeals Blake. And she's supposed to be the sensible one.

You’re tense. You can’t do yoga if you’re tense.” I broke form and frowned at my yoga partner. “Would you quit henpecking me?” Sienna lifted an eyebrow. “Only if you stop crowing.” My mouth twitched, but I caught my smile before it could spread. “Next you’re going to call me cocky.” “I wasn’t. I was going to call you a chick magnet.” I gave in to a laugh and shook my head at Jethro’s fiancée. She was good at puns, and I liked this about her. She always put me in a better mood. Sienna flashed a smile and her trademark dimples made an appearance. “Did you enjoy that one?” “It’s better than being called a motherclucker.

Now you know who I am. I haven't hidden anything from you. My soul is as naked as my face." She kept retreating, until her back hit the rock. "What about me?" she said. "Do you know who I am?" "Jethro's daughter." She laughed, and held out her arms and hands, their color blending into the darkness. "With skin like this? Do you really think so?" Before she could react, he imprisoned her fingers and drew her to him. "You are Zipporah, the Cushite, the woman Moses saved from the hands of the shepherds and at the well of Irmna. You are the woman who always knows where to find me, the woman who brought me food without knowing who I was.

La gioia data da quanto progettavo penetrò nel mio cuore doppiogiochista e mi disse che era l’inizio della fine. Avremmo continuato a rovinarci l’un l’altro. Avremmo continuato a profanare debiti e giuramenti. E avremmo continuato a mandare a puttane il nostro futuro fino a quando non sarebbe rimasto nient’altro che orrore

Anyway,” Beau—clearly eager to change the subject—pointed down the hall, “let’s talk about the color Jethro decided to paint the second bedroom.” “What’s wrong with green?” Jethro grinned slyly. His poker face had always sucked. “Nothing is wrong with green, but that’s a very odd shade of green. What was it called again?” “Sweet pea,” Duane supplied flatly for his twin. “It was called sweet pea and I believe it was labeled as nursery paint.” “Nursery paint, huh? You have something to tell us, Jethro?” Beau teased, mirroring Jethro’s grin. “No news to share? No big bombshell to drop?” Jethro glanced at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell them yet.” “Why would I? I’m good at keeping secrets.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure I looked innocent. “And I’m not the one who’s pregnant.” “I knew it!” Beau attacked Jethro, pulling him into a quick man-hug. Jethro’s grin widened to as large as I’ve ever seen it. “How could you possibly know?” Duane clapped Jethro on the back as soon as Beau released him. “Because you’ve always wanted kids, and weren’t one to futz around once you made up your mind.” “You should have painted it vomit green, to disguise all the baby vomit you’re going to have to deal with,” Beau suggested. “And shit brown,” Duane added. “Don’t forget about the shit.” “Y’all are the best.” Jethro placed his hands over his chest. “You warm my heart.” “Make sure the floor is waterproof.” Beau grabbed a beer and uncapped it. “Don’t tell me, to catch the vomit and poop?” “No,” Beau wagged his eyebrows, “because of all the crying you’re going to do when you can’t sleep through the night or make love to your woman anymore.” “Ah, yes. Infant-interuptus is a real condition. No cure for it either.” Duane nodded and it was a fairly good imitation of my somber nod. In fact, how he sounded was a fairly good imitation of me. You sound like Cletus.” Drew laughed, obviously catching on. Duane slid his eyes to mine and gave me a small smile. I lifted an eyebrow at my brother to disguise the fact that I thought his impression was funny. “Y’all need to lay off. Babies are the best. Think of all the cuddling. This is great news.

Jethro had a scar near one of his eyes, an angry tear that scraped through his eyebrow and reached up to his forehead where it disappeared beneath his hairline. In winter he wore black motorcycle boots and a checked sheepskin jacket that was orange and brown. He had sideburns like a man and the other kids said his eyes were like laser beams in comics, that your face would explode if he even looked at you. That was why he wore those steel-rimmed reflective sunglasses, they said, as he cruised around in his car with his hairy arm out the window, fingers spread wide on the door. Jethro Sands was like the scariest crackers on Guy Fawkes Night. He was the loudest thunder, the meanest dog. Out of everyone she was scared of Jethro Sands the most. She imagined buildings and trees bursting into flame on either side of the road as he drove along, turning his head slowly from side to side. He was threatening, noxious. Dark.

It's like when I first saw you at the Diabetic. I went up to you, but really you made the first move." "Shut up!" She remains unconvinced. "How?" I don't answer. I sit still. Then I look at her slyly out of the corner of my eye, before looking away. I look at her again, for longer this time, then drop my eyes. For my final look I stare, and bat my eyelashes provocatively. I must do a good job because Nia laughs. It feels goo to know I can do that. "You look like such a dufus in those glasses! It's not sexy at all!" She puts her hand to her reddening face. "Oh. Did I really do that?" "It worked, didn't it?

EXODUS 3 Now Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro, the priest of Midian, and he led his flock to the west side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the  wmountain of God. 2 xAnd  ythe angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. He looked, and behold, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed. 3And Moses said, “I will turn aside to see this great sight, why the bush is not burned.” 4When the LORD saw that he turned aside to see,  zGod called to him  aout of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” 5Then he said, “Do not come near;  btake your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” 6And he said,  c“I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for  dhe was afraid to look at God. 7Then the LORD said,  e“I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their  ftaskmasters. I know their sufferings, 8and  gI have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and  hto bring them up out of that land to a  igood and broad land, a land  jflowing with milk and honey, to the place of  kthe Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites.

Okay. Fine. Why are you disappointed in me, Cletus?” “Because I provided means and opportunity. All you had to do was exploit the situation.” “What are you talking about?” “On Friday? With the blankets and coffee? You think that was all by accident? That was arranged.” “Arranged?” I blinked at him while he tore off another piece of his doughnut. It smelled like it was strawberry flavored. “Yes. Arranged.” Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms and examined Cletus. I decided he was odd. “You’re odd.” “Yes. I am. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you fumbled my pass. If we’re going to make this thing happen with Jethro, I need you to bring your A-game.” “This is about Jethro?” I sat up straighter. “Of course. What’d you think I was talking about?” Apparently I wasn’t catching on quickly enough because he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes with great effect. “Do you want my help or not?” “Yes, yes, yes,” I said quickly, leaning forward at full attention. “Yes. I want your help.” “Fine then. We need to coordinate our attack.” Cletus punctuated this statement by popping the remainder of the first doughnut in his mouth. “Good. Yes. Attack synchronization.” My phone rang as he chewed. I glanced at the screen, saw it was Marta, and sent it to voicemail. Marta called back immediately, earning me a severe frown from Cletus. “You should get that.” He gestured to my phone. “You get that and I’ll ruminate while eating this other doughnut.

Glaring, I snarled, “Kiss me. Give me one fracture of human company, and I’ll never say another word to you again. I’ll be whatever you want. Just kiss me!” His eyes narrowed. “You’re an idiot.” “So you keep telling me.” “You’re wasting your time.” “So you keep telling me.” “I don’t want to kiss you!” I lashed out. My arms came up. I opened my palm. And I slapped the self-righteous, egotistical arsehole on the cheek. The moment went from lust-heavy to stagnant with violence. We stared, caught dead centre in war. “You’re a fucking nightmare,” he snapped. “Kiss me.” “You’re ruining my life.” “Kiss me.” “You’re—” “Kiss me, Jethro. Kiss me. Just fucking kiss me and give me—” His body crashed against mine. His hands flew up, grabbing my cheeks and holding me firm. His lips, oh his lips, they bruised mine as his head tilted, and with pure anger, he gave me what I’d wanted for weeks. He kissed me. My lungs were empty—he’d stolen all my air, but I no longer survived on oxygen. I survived on his mouth, his taste, his unbridled energy pouring down my throat. His tongue tore past my lips, taking me savage and hungry. There was nothing sweet or gentle. This was a punishment. A reminder that I hadn’t won. He wasn’t kissing me. He was fighting me in every underhanded way. His hands dropped from my cheeks, cupping my breasts. The violence in his touch throbbed instantly. I arched my back, opening my mouth wider to scream, but he swallowed my cries, kissing me deeper, harder, stealing every inch of sanity I had left. I thought a kiss would put me on even ground—show him that he did care. That he was human—just like me. I hadn’t gambled on being detonated into a billion tiny pieces that had no notion of who I’d been before he’d stolen my soul. He backed me up, faster and faster to the bed. His breath saturated my lungs. His touch skated from my cheeks, to my breasts, to my waist, to my arse. Jerking me hard against the huge length of arousal in his jeans. The bed stopped our motion, tumbling us onto the sheets, but nothing, absolutely nothing could unweld our lips. We were joined, kissing, frantic, desperate. He groaned as I slid my hands beneath his t-shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine. He was blood and fire and heat. So different to the glacier he pretended to be. “Fuck,” he grunted

Delegation—the assigning of things (work or a task) to individuals. Jethro told Moses to delegate the lesser tasks so he could focus on the major issues of leading the nation of Israel to the promised land. Delegation involves three important elements: Clearly assigning the responsibility the individual is entrusted with. Granting the necessary authority and ability to accomplish the task assigned. Holding the person accountable for the completion of the assigned task. Delegation is not giving an unpleasant task to someone, nor is it getting rid of work to make your workday less than responsible. It is, however: Sharing the work with individuals who have the capability so that you may concentrate on more challenging or more difficult assignments. Providing a format whereby individuals can mature and learn through on-the-job work. Encouraging others to become part of the organization by participative task accomplishment. Allowing individuals to exercise their special gifts and abilities. An important element of the organizational structure of the church is the granting of authority to accomplish the task. Authority is the right to invoke compliance by subordinates on the basis of the formal position in the organizational structure and upon the controls the formal organization has placed on that position. Authority is linked to the position, not the person. Authority is derived in various ways: Position Reputation Experience Expertise Authority and responsibility are directly linked. When you give someone responsibility for a task, then the individual should be given the ability to see to it that the task is accomplished. Responsibility and accountability are also directly linked. If the individual is given the responsibility for a task as well the authority/ability to see to its accomplishment, then it is the manager or administrator’s responsibility to hold the individual accountable to complete the task in the manner assigned and planned. Elements of describing the use of organizational authority include: The use of an organizational chart that establishes the chain of command. The use of functional authority, assigning to individuals in other elements of the organization the authority to administer and control elements of the organization outside their own. Defining span of control, defining within the task assignment specifically what elements of the organization the individual has authority over.

Daydream Jethro crept closer, working his cock, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The moment I was within grabbing distance, he captured my waist. “I need to be inside you, Nila.” I put words into Jethro’s mouth, but it was his voice I heard in my heart. I moaned again, angling the showerhead harder against my clit. “How do you want it?” my fantasy whispered in my ear as he spun me around and pressed me hard against the wall. I swallowed hard, answering in my mind. “Fast and…” “Filthy?” Daydream Jethro’s nose nuzzled the back of my ear, sending shockwaves down my spine. “I can fuck you filthy.” I couldn’t speak. But I didn’t have to. My fantasy knew exactly how I needed it. Jethro bit the back of my shoulder, spreading my legs wider with his. “Fuck me, Jethro Hawk,” I whispered. “Oh, I will. Believe me, I will.” Without further warning, he dug his fingers into my hips and slammed inside me. My fingers went numb as I slid the showerhead from clit to entrance. I cried out as water shot inside at the same time as Jethro thrust into me from behind, sliding deep and fast, stretching me deliciously painfully. My heart exploded with bliss. An orgasm squeezed every atom, getting ready to hurl me into the stratosphere. Jethro thrust again and I rode my new friend the showerhead. “Oh, God. Yes,” I hissed, rocking harder. “Yes, yes…” A masculine cough sounded. “You continue to surprise me, Ms. Weaver; at least this time, I rather enjoy it.

Jethro thrust again and I rode my new friend the showerhead. “Oh, God. Yes,” I hissed, rocking harder. “Yes, yes…” A masculine cough sounded. “You continue to surprise me, Ms. Weaver; at least this time, I rather enjoy it.” Everything crashed into awareness. My daydream shattered, fracturing by my feet like broken glass. I squealed and dropped the showerhead. It turned into a water snake, spewing water left and right, wriggling like some terrible demon. Jethro snickered. “You’re using up the entire Hall’s supply of hot water. Are you planning on saving some for the rest of the inhabitants of my home?” I couldn’t. I can’t. The horror. The shame!