Short Stories

Short Stories - Crimson Dragon Short Stories © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved Main Page · ...

Author: Dragon Crimson

241 downloads 5489 Views 1MB Size Report

This content was uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book. If you own the copyright to this book and it is wrongfully on our website, we offer a simple DMCA procedure to remove your content from our site. Start by pressing the button below!
Report copyright / DMCA form

DOWNLOAD PDF

Short Stories - Crimson Dragon

Short Stories © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Snapshots · Novels · Contact

Comments on any of the stories are welcomed at [email protected].

Elevator Music

Steve has to go away on business, but when he returns unexpectedly, Rachel is delighted. Sometimes there is hope when dark problems descend.

(MF, rom) Septembet 13, 2004

· · ·

Keys (FF, MF, rom)

Shawn and Simone both love the same girl, and Deanna doesn't know how to resolve her internal conflicts. Two beautiful women having an affair and someone is guaranteed to get hurt. So. Who do you love? October 7, 2003

· · ·

Four of a Kind

On a windy and rainy October weekend, on a nearly deserted campus, four university students find themselves and each other during a game of cards.

(MF, rom, strip poker) December, 2002

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/index.html (1 of 8)8/15/2005 12:03:05 AM


· · ·

Love Unexpected (FF, rom)

Alyssa is lonely, when Jake, a former boyfriend calls her and invites her to a friendly gathering. There, she meets Cameron who is destined to change her life. Originally posted for the Sapphic Festival. September, 2002

· · ·

Innocence

In a dingy hotel bar, Stacy proclaims that Danielle is innocent. Danielle finds out who and what is important in her life while proving otherwise.

(rom, light bondage) August, 2002

· · ·

When Angels Meet Angels

Alison gets drawn into a web of mystery and romantic sex upon a far away beach. Exactly where has the Dragon taken her this time? Originally posted for the Romance Festival.

(FF, rom, beach) June, 2002

· · ·

Coyotes Never Die (MF, group, rom, oral)

In a boardroom, somewhere out in the desert, Erin tries desperately to stay awake. But what ultimately transpires only serves to inflame her desires. With her Mustang, she finds the road that takes her back home beyond the coyotes, and the sinking sun. Sometimes, the roadrunner gets exactly what she needs. April, 2002

· · ·



Inverness

Alison needs a vacation, but the Dragon takes her to a place magical in its simplicity.

(FF, fantasy) February, 2001

· · ·

Autumn Equinox

Janey returns to a far off land of magic, celebration and fun. But will she be Queen?

(FF, equinox, magic) November, 2000

· · ·

Tess

Two lawyers overwhelmed with work decide to take a midwinter vacation together at the coast. Audra needs to tell Tess something, but such conversations are never easy, are they?

(FF, F, cons, outdoors, rain) September, 1999

· · ·

Magical Encounters

On the equinox, magic abounds. Janey decides to follow the Dragon through the portal into a land of magic, celebration and sex.

(MF, FF, exh, voy) May, 1999

· · ·

Rio (MF, FF, rom, cruise, outdoors, voy, mystic)

A ghostly island glows in the Caribbean moonlight. Tamara can't sleep. But what she sees on the island is destined to change her fate. May, 1999

· · ·



California Dreaming

It's cold outside, but warm in bed. Opal must decide where she wants to be. If I didn't tell her, I could leave today ...

(MF, FF, rom, winter)

April, 1999

· · ·

Thunderstruck

The heavens are tormented as if the Gods' fury is unleashed. And Kathleen cannot sleep ...

(MF, cons, rain) March, 1999

· · ·

Colours of the Soul

When Ellen walks in unexpectedly, Jaime must reevaluate all her relationships.

(MF, FF, cons, light bond, colours)

November, 1998

· · ·

Precious (F, city, introspection, angel)

In the cruel heart of the city, life can't get much worse for Janice, can it? At least until an angel appears to rescue her. But will even an angel be enough? Some choices we have to make on our own. September, 1998

· · ·

Until It Hurts (FF, cons, outdoors)

What would you do if you awakened with a splitting headache, little memory of the night before and there was a strange brunette asleep beside you, her hand gently cupping your breast, and you couldn't even remember her name? August, 1998

· · ·



Trouble In Paradise (FF, cons, vacation, exh, light/ first spank)

Elizabeth and Dawn are looking forward to a whole week in paradise when problems descend and they learn far more about each other than they expected. July, 1998

· · ·

A Most Unusual Afternoon

Darlene has a most unusual afternoon planned. At least until everything begins to unravel ...

(F, cons, bond)

July, 1998

· · ·

Chosen

Bree and her friends are faced with a decision from the past while on a camping trip.

(MF, FF, cons, spirit, outdoors, exh)

July, 1998

· · ·

Porch

Michelle escapes to the mountain cabin to reflect on her life, but when an unexpected visitor appears, her life begins to change in ways that Michelle hadn't ever considered before.

(FF, cons, outdoors) June, 1998

· · ·

War

Kristen sits quietly in her tower office, resigned to her fate. War rages around her island of calm. Until Janet joins her.

(FF, cons, war) June, 1998

· · ·



No Tomorrow (FF, cons, light/first bond, outdoors)

Rachel lies on a deserted beach listening to the surf and sand. Sara arrives to help Rachel find meaning in her life. But what of tomorrow? May, 1998

· · ·

Melody

After the boistrous office Christmas party, Terri receives a strange phone call from Melody, her rival. Melody has a secret, and Terri isn't sure that she wants to know what it is.

(FF) May, 1998

· · ·

Wolf

On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

(MF, rom, light bond, oral) May, 1998

· · ·

Four Seasons (FF, rom, light bond, oral, outdoors)

Oh, how a relationship can change in a year, waxing and waning as the seasons change. But support comes from an unlikely source for Kate and Linda. April, 1998

· · ·

Sunswept (FF, light/first bd, rom, outdoors)

Wendy rocks helplessly on a floating dock, the sunshine caressing her bare skin. When will Danielle return to free her? Does she want to be freed? March, 1998

· · ·



March Twenty-first

When Lori lies down to sleep, protected from the wind and sleet, she doesn't expect a journey to a warmer place and time. Is it a dream, or something far deeper?

(FF, rom) March, 1998

· · ·

Cassandra (MF, FF, psych)

An alluring and enigmatic patient enters his office. She wants to have sex with the good doctor, even while all his instincts and professionalism scream that her desires are wrong. But can he resist her? And what daemons lurk beneath the surface? March, 1998

· · ·

Rain (FF, light/first bd, rom, outdoors)

Alone in a northern cabin, Katrina waits for Leanne. She desperately wants to share her fantasies -- to be tied helplessly in the rain. Will she find the courage to speak to her new lover? Or will she bury her desires forever? February, 1998

· · ·

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes

When Jason dumps Karen, she falls apart. And comfort arrives from an unexpected source.

(FF?)

February, 1998

· · ·

Ash (FF, cons, bdsm, control, release)

Office life can grind the best of us down, but when things become too much to bear, Trish finds catharsis at home with Ash. 1994

· · ·



Thunder Ridge

Deep in the pine forest lies a ridge of emerald green. Her method of relaxation is different, but, oh, so satisfying.

(MF, cons, light bond, outdoors, rain)

1994

· · ·

Heat (MF, cons, light bond, outdoors)

Outside, the everglades shimmer in sweltering heat. Elvis sings softly behind her as she gazes towards the pond and a different sort of freedom. 1994

© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon All rights reserved This site and its content are protected by copyright statutes. Please enjoy the stories here freely, but permission in writing is required from the author to redistribute any of the contents or parts thereof under all circumstances. The author may be contacted via e-mail at [email protected] if you wish to repost, or redistribute, the stories contained herein.

You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Elevator Music - Crimson Dragon

Elevator Music © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact

==================================================================== Elevator Music (MF, rom) By Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ==================================================================== (c) Copyright September 2001 Crimson Dragon All rights reserved ==================================================================== He kissed her once, gently, on the forehead, his fingers lightly brushing her brunette bangs aside. She tilted her face upwards, searching. "Don't go," she whispered. He smiled gently, giving her a tight squeeze. "Only three weeks, Rachel. Three weeks. And I'll be back here. Promise." She forced a smile to her lips. The loudspeaker above them barked emotionlessly: "Final boarding http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (1 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


call, Air Canada, Flight 17. Final boarding call." She could have strangled the owner of that dispassionate, uncaring, static-obscured voice. He wiped the salty moisture from her cheeks, bending slightly to kiss her on the lips. Then he released her, walking away firmly. He waved moments before disappearing into the boarding tunnel. She willed the tears to cease, and waved back. Her lips tingled where they had met his, only moments before. Her fingers caressed the tingle until the sensation faded. "I'll miss you, Steve," she whispered. These inconsiderate scum didn't care who they disturbed. What if she'd been sleeping? Had an inconsolable baby, finally dropped off to slumber? Or that she simply didn't feel like talking to a stranger trying desperately to sell her windows, or carpet cleaning, or newspapers, or lawn care. The insistent ring of the telephone broke through her internal diatribe, and she dropped the dishcloth onto the counter. The infernal machine cried out across the kitchen, yet again. Sighing, she glanced at the red numerals on the coffee maker. 1:34. Middle of the afternoon. Nobody but a fucking telemarketer would call her at this time of day. Rachel fought with herself, but wasn't able to keep the edge of anger from her voice. She silenced the telephone by lifting the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" Despite the anger, her voice remained soft; it only rang harsh in her own ears. Her anger melted, as she recognised the voice on the other end of the line. "In town? How?"

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (2 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


She listened intently for a moment, nodding, her eyes regaining some of the lustre that they'd lost over the last week. "Twenty minutes. I've missed you." She dropped the phone onto the cradle with a clatter, and then thinking twice, she picked it up again to call the taxi. Rain lashed at the windshield of the yellow car as it pulled up outside the tower. The wipers set up a regular cadence similar to a metronome. Rachel glanced up through the raindrops, eyes searching into the sea of glass and steel. He was up there somewhere -- the eighteenth floor. The turbaned driver accepted the handful of cash she passed over the seat with a heartfelt "Thank-you, ma-am." She knew that she'd overtipped him, but he'd driven like a maniac in the rain so that she'd have a chance at arriving here before it was too late. She opened the door, her left foot sinking into a puddle. Undeterred, she ran across the courtyard, between modern art statues towards the building. She pushed through the revolving doors. As the air conditioning kissed her, she shivered, suddenly aware that she was soaked to the skin, her hair plastered across her face. She brushed the wet strands from in front of her eyes, finally looking up from the drips littering the marble floor. Steve stood there, biting a smile from his lips. "Eighteen minutes. Not bad. I guess you really do miss me." "Shut up." She aimed a weak punch at his arm that he avoided easily. "Is that any way to greet a tired traveller?"



She stepped forward, an evil smile on her lips. She hugged him, grinding her wet clothes into his suit. He protested for a moment, then in resignation, wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. "I deserved that," he muttered. She tilted her face until her breath would be warm against his ear. "Even that isn't the way I would have preferred to greet you." She kissed his neck. Gently, he guided her from the doorway. "I forgot my briefcase upstairs," he murmured. "Forget it." She tugged on his hand, leading him towards the concourse. He stopped and smiled ruefully. "Twenty minutes for lunch with you, and then the boss gets me for a couple of hours uptown. I'm sorry." He worked his fingers free of hers and began to walk towards the elevator banks. She only hesitated a moment, and then hurried to catch up with him. Water dripped from the hem of her dress as they waited for the stainless steel doors to admit them. Rachel screamed at the first jolt, nearly thrown from her feet. Steve reached out to steady her. The second tremor was longer than the first and the elevator halted its upward motion. They dropped, her stomach sickeningly rising into her throat. She tried to scream again. Couldn't. And then the elevator stopped with a hiss. She stood there waiting, holding her breath until it hurt. "S-steve?" Suddenly, he was there, close, his hand holding hers. Her final scream echoed through the mirrored room as the lights http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (4 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


plunged into darkness deep enough to touch. But his hand was still there, reassuring, and close. "W-what happened," Rachel whispered, as though afraid the slightest movement of air might cause the elevator to plunge down the shaft. "I don't know. Don't move," Steve whispered back. After a moment, the wan light of emergency halogens illuminated the couple. She glanced towards the opposite mirror. Two haggard people stared back at her, hand in hand, the girl resembling a drowned rat, the man in a slightly rumpled blue suit. "Steve?" "Rachel." "Are we still alive?" "I think so." She stifled another scream as a disembodied female voice crackled out of an unseen and tinny speaker. "This is security. Anyone in there?" Rachel found her voice first. "What happened?" The disembodied voice continued. "Are you the only person there? Are you all right?" Rachel continued, barely raising her voice above a whisper. "No. My husband is here with me, too. We're fine. For now. What happened?" The girl's voice sounded like the voice of God, to Rachel. "Your elevator, and the one next to it, lost power. We're investigating. Nobody is in the other one. Did the car drop?"



Rachel felt like shouting at the girl, something about investigating a lot faster. "The car dropped. And then there was a hiss." "That's normal," the girl said. "NORMAL?" "The power goes, and the retaining locks engage. Or at least that's what's supposed to happen. The elevator should have only dropped a floor or so at most." "C-can we move?" The girl laughed lightly. "We've called the fire department and we should have you out of there shortly. The elevator is trapped between the 15th and 16th floors. You can move. It isn't going anywhere for a while." "Shit," Steve muttered. He moved towards the back of the elevator. Rachel moved with him. The elevator seemed to sway slightly, but didn't drop any further. He raised his voice. "How long?" The girl hesitated. "Shouldn't be long. Maybe an hour or two?" Steve cursed again. Rachel fought back tears, but was determined not to fall apart. Elevators got stuck all the time, didn't they? Hell, she'd been on ... um ... none that she could recall that had ever moved in anything but a smooth motion -- up or down. Rachel settled herself into a corner of the small room, her back pressed up against mirrors. Her fingers still joined with Steve's. "I'm Rachel, and he's Steve." "Sorry we have to meet like this," the voice spoke from the ceiling. "I'm Suzanne." Rachel twirled a lock of brunette hair around her little finger. The hair was still wet from the rain outside, but she didn't mind overly. The elevator was warm and cosy. Steve sat on the marble tile, glancing every so often at his watch and sighing. She drew her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (6 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


knees up to her chest and hugged herself. She idly kicked off her shoes, wiggling her bare toes. Staring at her feet, her face illuminated. "Suzanne? Are you still there?" Suzanne's voice issued forth. "I'm still here. The fire department arrived a few minutes ago." "Can you turn off your speaker?" Her understanding voice came back in the affirmative. "Sure. Just press the alarm button if you want me." Rachel raised her face to look at Steve. After a moment, his eyes met hers. She smiled. Her body had heated the film of water, similar to the way a wetsuit works. As the dress lifted over her head, her bare skin immediately jumped into gooseflesh. The tiny bumps ridged the tops of her breasts, and continued down across her upper arms and thighs. The dress dropped with a plop of wet fabric to the marble. The marble was warm beneath her feet. Lost, she watched herself in the mirrors as her fingers released the clasp between her breasts. The damp lacy cups joined the dress at her feet. Her panties slid sensuously down her legs. Like a feline, she stepped from the undergarments pooled at her ankles and moved to an unheard beat. "What are you dancing for?" he asked from his position on the floor. His eyes never left her nudity. She looked at him strangely, as though she hadn't realised that she wasn't alone, naked and moving amongst her own images. With a grin, she replied. "Elevator music." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (7 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


The dim emergency lighting reflected from her soft curves. She knelt, her knees uncomfortable on the marble floor. She released the button of his jacket. Playfully, she tugged his shirt from his waistband. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt clasps from the button. The last two, she leaned forward to unclasp with her teeth. Her breath rebounded warm and inviting from his bare chest, reassuring before she kissed him. She tilted up her face, caressing his lips, tongue searching. Her nipples ached, her clitoris throbbing. An elevator. She leaned back, her thighs resting easily on her heels. His lips shone ruby red in the dim light, his breathing shallow. He wore an expression of confusion and wonder. In response to his unasked question, she replied. "Haven't you ever gone down in an elevator?" Occasionally, she had thought the stuck compartment was in danger of falling further. When their rescuer, Suzanne, had said they could move about in the car, she doubted if the poor girl had guessed at the resulting fanfare. Or maybe she had. She had switched off the communication without much of a fight. Rachel rocked upwards again, sighing as she was penetrated yet again on the downstroke. It was everything she could do to hold back the next climax. Slowly, she allowed Steve to push her to the marble, her back finding the tile as cool as her feet had found it warm. The gooseflesh had long disappeared. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (8 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


Her legs, of their own accord, slipped apart. She stifled a cry as his tongue found her. Holding back the climax wasn't going to work this time. She moaned, calling out Steve's name, her voice rebounding from the mirrors.

Was that steam adorning the mirrors? She squinted. She hadn't steamed up glass since Snakey Hill, the local lover's lane, when she was sixteen. And it hadn't been Steve that time, had it? Surely an illusion. She settled back into Steve's arms. Afterwards, he had dressed, as though shy. She supposed it must be the surroundings -- it wasn't every day that she made love to him in an elevator. For her, she was far more comfortable with her sopping dress crumpled on the other side of the floor, her bra and panties standing sentinel nearby, her shoes watching the proceedings quietly. She wasn't warm, but wasn't cold either. The scent of sex and abandon surrounded them. Rachel idly hoped that the muskiness would dissipate before the fire fighters crashed into their party -not so much for her, as concern for Steve's comfort. He wrapped his arms around her, fingers clasped under and between her bare breasts, holding her lightly. She curled up, lying her head back against his chest. His eyes found hers in the mirror opposite. She smiled, and gratified, received his answering smile. She shivered slightly, her nudity contrasting against his suit. It http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (9 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:11 AM


would make a nice picture, she thought idly before closing her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. She awoke with the crackle of static. Steve had jumped at the sound, and disturbed her position. Rachel reached for the blanket, murmured something incoherent. After a moment, her fingers stopped searching for the comforter that didn't exist. The tinny female voice returned, more insistent. "Rachel? Steve? Are you two all right?" Rachel could hear a banging noise overhead, like a hammer trying to punch through the ceiling. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her image stared back at her, bare breasts bouncing gently as she moved. Steve groaned behind her. "We're fine, Suzanne. Just asleep." Suzanne sounded more relaxed as she replied. "You better get up. They say it'll be a matter of minutes. Hear the banging?" Suzanne looked up. The banging stopped for a moment above her, but then continued. Realising that she was still naked, she scuttled across the marble. She could hear the rescuers trying to lift the elevator hatch above, a pinprick of light filtering down as it rose. She picked up her dress, swallowing heavily. "Three and a half hours," Steve muttered as he climbed to his feet. He stretched. Please no, Rachel thought as she shook out the black fabric of her dress. She didn't mind that much if the fire personnel saw her nudity -- she wasn't particularly shy, but she really didn't want to put the wet dress back on.



The light above was accompanied by dust motes swirling through the air. A feminine voice called out from on top of the car. "Rachel? Steve? You two still okay in there? We'll have you out in a few minutes." Rachel grimaced, held her breath, and nearly screamed as the cold wet fabric slipped over her head. Forcing herself, she insisted her fingers tug the evil cloth down over her bare breasts to hug her thighs. She stood shivering as the dress embraced her, but at least she was clothed. She bent to pick up her underwear, moving over to Steve and slipping them into his pants pockets where the white material bulged slightly. She looked up quickly enough to see a friendly face appear in the void that was the ceiling. "Hey there, you two. Sorry we're late. How is everyone doing?" a younger girl asked, a fire helmet adorning her head. "Wet, hungry, cold and needing a bathroom." Rachel smiled in spite of herself. "Couldn't have had a better meeting, Rache," Steve murmured. She shook her head. "It was nice, I'll give you that." "Suzanne knew, you know." "She what?" "She winked at me when she introduced herself." "Was it too much to hug her?" "Maybe, in that wet dress." "She didn't mind."



"No, I don't think she did," Steve muttered. A static-obscured voice issued forth above the embracing couple. She could have strangled the owner of that dispassionate, uncaring, crackling voice. "Final boarding call for Air Canada Flight 55 to Vancouver. Final boarding call." Steve looked at Rachel. "Only another week and a half." "No more surprise lunches in elevators?" He shook his head. "I'll miss you," she murmured as she kissed him. He gave her one quick squeeze and then walked back towards the boarding tunnel. She willed the tears to cease, and waved back. Her lips tingled where they had met his only moments before. Her fingers caressed the tingle until the sensation faded. ==================================================================== Epilogue ==================================================================== He settled with a sigh onto the standard bed. The generic clock radio stared at him. 10:24 flipped to 10:25 as he watched. A strange bed. A strange clock. A strange room. He was exhausted after the flight, and the hotel was clean. A strange bulge caught his attention as he slipped off his suit pants. In amongst the blue, flashes of white. Lacy. He smiled as he tugged her undergarments into view. Laying them on http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (12 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:12 AM


the bedspread, he smiled. He picked up the phone. Her hair dripped onto her shoulders, her bare breasts covered in mounds of bubbles that smelled vaguely of peaches. Her image reflected back at her from the mirror across from the tub. She ached, and was probably bruised from her play in the small stuck elevator car. But she wouldn't have traded that time for anything in the world right now. She smiled at the memories. She lay her head back, her fingers lightly caressing her thighs under the water. She missed him. She opened her eyes when the phone interrupted her visions. "Damn telemarketers," she murmured. She ignored the ringing, letting her fingers trace across the sensitive flesh of her erect nipples. Though she was satiated, many times, after Steve, her body whispered insistent and close. She sighed. Eventually, the ringing stopped. She lay her head back again, savouring the caresses of the water. The phone began to ring again. Wrapped in a crimson towel, Rachel lifted the receiver. "Hello?" Even in anger, her voice was soft and sultry. She listened for a moment, a smile radiating from her lips. At last, she spoke again, this time her voice devoid of resentment at an interrupted reprise. "I will. And I miss you, too." She dropped the towel in a red heap near the phone. Her bare feet left wet footprints across the floor as she returned to her peach http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/elevator.html (13 of 14)8/15/2005 12:03:12 AM


bubbles.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Keys - Crimson Dragon

Keys © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Keys (FF, MF, rom) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - November 2002 All rights reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Bright, warm sunshine slashed through the tilted blinds, streaking across the bedroom like fingers of light, dust motes caught in frozen time. Simone knelt above her, her smile as radiant as the sunbeams that striped her bare skin from the tips of her breasts to the trembling of her thighs. The sun played in her blonde locks, cascading over her shoulders like a million sparkles from a thousand waterfalls. Simone's breath came short and fast, her breasts rising and falling in rapid rhythm. Her lips formed another quick smile, and she gently lowered herself, breasts meeting breasts, lips, soft lips, finding soft lips. With a hunger reminiscent of a caged lioness, Simone kissed her, her teeth connecting almost painfully with the intensity. "Deanna?"

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (1 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


"Hmmmm?" "I need you ..." Simone whispered. Without waiting for an answer, Simone swivelled, her legs flashing in the afternoon light. Her head dipped, her lips finding other soft lips, her tongue gentle but insistent. Deanna moaned, and reached upwards, her fingers grasping at the perspiration sheened skin hovering near her, pulling Simone down, down, down. Fingers slipped into her, wet, slippery, so swollen. Deanna moaned again, her voice muffled in the girl. She wanted to cry out, but her throat refused the commands of her mind. All thoughts fled. There was only Simone. Only Simone. A tongue touched her clitoris. And again, circling, teasing. Without warning, blue light washed over Deanna's mind, and dimly she heard her own voice cry out, felt all the muscles in her body contract in blessed unison, a choir of sound and sensation -- a mixture of relief, release and passion. Above her, she still tasted Simone, the girl writhing and moaning in a rhythm that matched the pulsing of the blue light flooding her mind. Simone squeezed her fingers, buried deep within. Squeezed tightly. Squeezed in a rhythm that felt wonderfully familiar, nearly matching the contractions of her own muscles. Her own climax subsiding, a sigh escaped Deanna, echoed by the blonde girl as she collapsed wearily, her gentle weight close and comforting above. Perspiration dotted Deanna's brow, and slicked between their bodies, as Deanna struggled to control her breathing. The faint smell of peaches tickled her nose and she turned lazily, pushing one bare leg under the bed's comforter. Simone appeared, her hair transformed from vivid blonde to a dark chestnut as it dripped across her bared shoulders. A cloud of steam billowed around her form, twirling about her ankles like tentacles. Deanna sighed. She hated this part most of all. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (2 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


"Simone?" she said softly. Simone continued to walk towards the bed, her toes leaving tiny damp patches on the cream of the carpet. "Mhmmmm?" Simone's eyes flashed, silently asking if Deanna was ready for more. She was ... oh, how she was ... Instead of nodding as she desperately wanted to, she ducked her eyes and whispered, "Shawn will be here soon." Deanna didn't look up, couldn't. She knew every nuance of Simone's face, every flash of disappointment, every carefully guarded attempt to hide. And she hated -- hated -- being the cause. Simone's insubstantial weight dimpled the bedclothes beside Deanna. Deanna bit her lip gently as Simone's fingers trailed lazily over her breasts, teasing and close. Simone's skin radiated the clean scent of peaches, her fingertips damp against Deanna's skin. The musk of their tryst dissipated until all Deanna could sense was peaches, and the soft shallowness of Simone's breathing. "I can't keep doing this," Simone whispered. Deanna closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. She wanted to cry out. But Shawn. He'd be home soon. With a muted sigh, Simone's weight rose, the bed creaking quiet protest. Deanna watched silently as Simone moved gracefully about the room, bending modestly to gather up her scattered clothing. Bra. Lacy panties. Jeans. Denim slipped up long legs, catching at dampness until Simone's pale skin disappeared within. Simone fished deep into her pocket with one hand, the other carrying her top and bra easily. She leaned back against the dresser, the soft curves of her bare back visible in the mirror behind. A muted jingle of keys broke the quiet as Simone twirled the metal about her index finger idly, nervously.



Thunder crashed, though the sudden flash and noise seemed out of place. Simone stood soaked, her shirt plastered to her body, nipples pushing expectantly against the cool of the water rushing over her body. Thunder rumbled again in the distance, raindrops pattering through the pine needles above. Eerie grey light illuminated the clearing, and Simone lowered her eyes, turned, and walked away. The whiteness of her top melted into the evergreens. Deanna tried to cry out, call Simone back. The clear coldness of the falling water touched her tongue, stifling the cry. Thunder crashed again, nearby, and it was out of place, unreal. Deanna's mind focused again on twirling metal. Twirling. Spinning. Jingling ... Jingling as the metal twirled about Simone's finger, flashing in the late afternoon sunbeams. No rain. No thunder. No forest. Deanna opened her eyes, and Simone stood, still topless, still radiantly beautiful. She ached for the girl, but didn't rise from the bed. Mixed in with the sadness, the regret, there was puzzlement as if Simone had seen the same visions of rain and prophetic fallacy. "I can't keep doing this, Deanna," Simone whispered. "I can't." "Don't leave." Deanna heard her own voice, as if it were lost in a forest somewhere, distant and alone. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd been the one to ask Simone to leave in the first place. For only a moment, Simone hesitated, her voice forlorn but firm. "I must." "Because of Shawn?" Simone nodded miserably. A solitary tear traced down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. Deanna's eyes tracked the moisture until it dripped from Simone's jaw. "Meet me later? Please?" http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (4 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


Simone hesitated again. Reluctantly, Simone lowered her eyes and nodded as if she never had a choice in the matter. Her bare shoulders slumped slightly, as if she bore the weight of the world upon her. But even with the weight of the world, she would see her responsibility through. "The Portal. Sometime tonight," Simone whispered, her voice barely audible to Deanna. "When?" "Tonight." Shawn wouldn't understand, but she would make excuses. Somehow. Deanna closed her eyes. "I'll be there," she said softly. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, regret and the exertions of the afternoon combining in a symphony of vibration. Only the flash of one bare heel as Simone disappeared down the hallway bid farewell to Deanna as she wearily opened her eyes. "Simone ..." she whispered. The front door closed with a gentle bang, somewhere as far away as the forests of her vision. She wanted to lie back and cry, but Shawn would be home soon, and she was sure that her body and the drying perspiration would brand her for what she'd done. Again. Slowly, she pushed herself up until she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare toes playing aimlessly with the carpet. A black bra sat like a sentinel upon the dresser where Simone had leant. Carefully, Deanna gathered it up, pressing the fabric to her face. Simone's scent, feminine and close. With great care, Deanna slipped the bra into her underwear drawer, even while it wasn't her size. Shawn wouldn't see it there. Guilt, and an overbearing sense of grief washed over her as she stepped naked towards the shower.



She glanced at the slim gold watch that graced her wrist. Shawn sat across the room, lounging in the overstuffed easy chair watching the Blue Jays lose, yet again. "I'm going out," Deanna said softly. Shawn nodded, absently waving with the neck of his beer. He truly was a good man, she thought. "Where are you going? Should I wait up?" She paused half in and half out of the door. Better lies based in truth. "Meeting Simone. I hope I'm not too late." His attention returned to the game before the front door shut behind her. Cigarette smoke penetrated her eyes, stinging and intimate. A margarita sat lonely, grasped lightly between two fingers of her right hand. Slowly, she raised the wide glass to her lips, sipping, the alcohol tingling upon her tongue. Between her legs, she felt the familiar soreness that always seemed to appear after an afternoon with Simone. Oh, she didn't mind. It was a good soreness. A soreness that she wanted, that she loved; a gentle reminder of unrestrained physical love. She tingled slightly, and she shifted her legs, crossing them under the table. She could feel everyone's eyes upon her, especially the men. This was no place for a single girl, sitting alone in a quiet booth well away from the booming music and the dance floor where patrons spun drunkenly to eighties ballads. The Portal carried on without her intervention, the clatter of humanity surrounding her as distant as her thoughts. Somehow, the crowd seemed to sense her mood, and not so much as one male presence sidled up to drunkenly ask her zodiac sign. She was beginning to notice this unusual behaviour of the bar when the entrance doors opened, and a tall, dark man walked in. The smoky haze seemed to part as he moved, and his eyes fell directly on her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (6 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


booth. She shivered, wondering if she had inadvertently taken his usual table. She tore her eyes from him, and raised her glass back to her lips. When long, strong fingers touched the back of her hand, she raised her eyes, startled. He stood there relaxed, an easy smile forming across his lips. She stared at him, trying to summon up a look of disdain; even while she missed the male attention, she didn't much feel like brushing aside lame pick up lines. "She'll be here, soon," he said quietly. His voice cut through the general cacophony without the need to raise his voice. He leaned down onto the table, and for a moment, Deanna thought that she could smell brimstone. The long strong fingers seemed to shimmer into more delicate feminine hands, but only for a moment. "Excuse me?" Deanna replied, at a loss for words. "Simone. You are waiting for her, aren't you?" "How? What?" He smiled again, and pushed himself back up. He must have stood at least six foot three, perhaps even taller. "Shawn. Simone. You'll have to decide," he murmured. She wasn't even sure that she'd heard it, but her heart banged in her chest. "Shawn sent you? What did you do? Follow me?" He smiled again, this time an enigmatic smile. He touched her arm, and his fingers were warm. "Don't be silly," he said. And a sense of calm descended over her. She believed him, though why, she couldn't have said. Without another word of explanation, he turned to move away from her table. "Wait!" A few people turned to look at her, including the strange man. "Please. Who are you?"



His lips formed the words, but they appeared more in her head than through the hazy air. "Some call me the Dragon." The Dragon had disappeared into the crowd, melting into the shadows as if he had never made his enigmatic appearance. She watched for him, half-heartedly, but he didn't reappear and she wasn't sure that she wanted him to, or if he'd ever really been there. Her eyes swept over the crowd, and not for the first time, she wondered if Simone was going to stand her up. She sighed and sipped at the dwindling margarita. The ice within had mostly melted. When she looked up to scan for the mysterious tall man, she gasped. Simone stood at the end of the booth, her lips set in a smile not echoed by her eyes. For a moment, the girl stood while waitresses and patrons flowed around her like a river moves around an island. Deanna's breath caught for a second, her lips moving, but no sound issued from her throat. The noise in the bar muted, as if an unseen Dragon had thumbed down the volume on some cosmic remote control. But of course, the ambient noise continued -- the dancers now gyrating to an old Def Leppard tune -- only Deanna's awareness of the surrounding bar had diminished until only she and Simone stood amongst the stale haze. Without asking, Simone slipped into the booth, her booted foot briefly touching Deanna's jean clad calf. She looked at Deanna, her long lashes blinking away the cigarette smoke. Her hand stole forward and gripped Deanna's lightly, fingers soft and gentle. The same fingers that earlier had generated moans and flashes of electricity upon Deanna's body. The same fingers that had been deep within her. For a minute, both girls remained silent, as though they both were aware that this meeting could only end in one predetermined place. Simone sighed. "I have to go," Simone said quietly, her voice, like the Dragon's, somehow slicing through Def Leppard. "Why?" http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (8 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


"Because it isn't right. Not for me. Not with Shawn. Not with you. It's not fair on any of us. You know that, Deanna. I'm so sorry. I should never have ..." Moisture, hot and salty, welled up in Deanna's eyes. She blinked quickly, and sipped at her margarita. The tang of tequila blossomed on her tongue. The soft scent of clover, peaches and spice briefly overpowered the stink of cigarettes, and she was sure that the scents had drifted from Simone's golden hair. Deanna's breasts ached. "Simone ..." Simone glanced away, towards the bar. Somewhere out there, a Dragon walked. Slowly, her eyes returning to Deanna, Simone shook her head, strands of her hair billowing as if a breeze had tickled the golden tips. Elsewhere, somewhere outside of the booth, Def Leppard left the stage to be replaced with the rattling, driving, guitar of Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers. "You have to decide, Deanna. Who do you love?" "I don't know." Don't know? Or don't want to know? Deanna pursed her lips, her thoughts drifting to Shawn, trusting Shawn, reliable Shawn, watching a baseball game, sipping his beer, perhaps even hoping that she was having a good time with Simone. She closed her eyes, her breath beginning to accelerate. Her breasts rose and fell under her thin shirt. Simone's image -- her bare skin striped by the afternoon sun, her head tilted back, lips parted, gentle cries urgent and full of passion. Fingers, so soft, trailed over her swollen nipples. Deanna opened her eyes, the haze around her cloying, stinging. Across from her, Simone gazed at her, eyes watching, understanding. For a moment, Deanna was sure that Simone had seen what she had, the image of bare skin, and gentle fingers. Impossible.



Simone sighed prettily, and shook her head slowly. "It's all right," she whispered. "I never expected anything." The table wasn't particularly wide, and without warning, Simone pushed herself up and leaned across the table. Her lips touched Deanna's, somehow chaste and sexual simultaneously. As quickly as she had been there, she was gone, sitting easily opposite, her hands resting against the grain of the tabletop. Deanna wanted to beg. More time. Don't leave. Please. But before the words could pass her lips, Simone slipped from the booth, standing uneasily at the edge of the table, her eyes somehow level with Deanna. She reached forward, her fingers brushing Deanna's cheek, salty moisture coating the fingertips. "Good-bye," Simone whispered. Through the blur of tears, it was impossible to tell. Simone walked through the crowd that parted for her like the Red Sea parted for Moses. She didn't sit, but rather leaned into the bar, almost shouting to the bartender above the din of the music. Of course, Deanna couldn't hear what she said, nor did she want to. Beside Simone, a tall, dark, man watched Simone, then glanced back at Deanna's booth. It was impossible to tell, whether the man was a Dragon or not. Then Simone nodded, and pushed back from the bar, walking unimpeded towards the entrance. She glanced back once, half in and half out of the Portal. She gave a small wave, and even through her own tears, Deanna could see Simone's tears as she turned towards the outside. Somehow, that made her cry harder. Sometime after the door had closed, and Simone had disappeared like so much smoke, another margarita arrived at Deanna's table. "From Simone," the waiter whispered. Deanna stared at it through her tears for a long, long time. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (10 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


Somewhere beyond the plate glass behind her, the lake lapped against the unseen shore as it had since the last ice age. Today, she couldn't see it through the light summer drizzle that fell in a fine mist that shrouded the world, drifting between the office buildings that littered the downtown core. She stared at the rain, unable to concentrate on the computer or memos that covered her desk. Outside, the drizzle continued. In a shimmering forest, Simone walked towards her through the rain, her shirt plastered to her breasts, her legs and feet bare, sheened with moisture. She smiled, her full lips parted as she walked towards Deanna, arms open for an embrace. Closer, the scent of clover and new rain filled Deanna's senses. Deanna's lips parted, wanting to taste Simone, touch her. A soft warble broke the easy quiet only filled with Deanna's shallow breathing. Slowly, she turned to face her desk; the vision faded into white droplets beyond the protective glass. A single red light blinked on her phone. Her heart began to speed up. Simone. It had been weeks since the Portal. Uncounted messages left, but none meaningful, or at least none that said what needed to be said. She couldn't leave the one message that might have made a difference, and Simone had not returned her calls, nor could Deanna blame her. The phone warbled again. Simone. Deanna's hand reached, grasping the cold plastic of the receiver. Her blood pounded in her ears as she silenced the warble and raised the phone. "Simone?" "Oh. Hi, Shawn."



Deanna turned and stared back out into the rain. "It's out of the question, Shawn. I have too much work to do, and ..." Her heart began to slow down again to a more normal rhythm, the pounding in her ears receding. "No, Shawn. I can't go with you. Not this weekend." A siren wailed somewhere below, hidden in the sea of white. She listened for a moment, not surprised by Shawn's query at the other end of the telephone wire. Deanna sighed. It was the truth, at least at the moment. "No, Shawn, I'm not seeing someone else." Not Simone. "I just can't ... I'm sorry, Shawn." Uncaring, the drizzle continued outside the glass, streaks of water running down the window like tears. She listened for a moment, considered dropping the phone back into the cradle. She closed her eyes. Unbidden, Simone's image emerged from an ocean of mist. "It's supposed to rain all weekend, Shawn." Simone's image faded, but didn't quite disappear. Simone's lips whispered, "Good-bye." Deanna wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know. I know, Shawn. Different. Withdrawn. I'll try harder. I promise." She paused, thinking, and then spoke quietly into the phone. "Okay, Shawn. I'll go." Without waiting for an answer, she lowered the phone, the red light http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (12 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


winking out obediently. She turned back and stared into the white. Simone's image faded, but her chest still ached. Rain pattered against the windshield as the tires of the pickup truck crunched against the gravel of the winding driveway. Inside the truck, Deanna tried to concentrate on anything but her lurching stomach, but the nausea continued to assail her. The truck stopped with a jolt, and she blindly reached for the handle, the door swinging open. Wet cool air washed over her. With a sigh of relief, Deanna released her seat belt, and stepped into the drizzle, the water dripping into her hair, and clean, fresh air filling her lungs. Suddenly, he appeared at her elbow, his hand warm, guiding her towards the cabin under the pine boughs. Inside, after helping her remove her wet shoes, he guided her to the plush sofa. She laid back, covering her eyes, and concentrating on breathing. The carsickness receded slowly. Shawn stepped from the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine, one of which he handed to Deanna before settling to the floor near her. "Thank you," Deanna whispered. The wine tingled against her tongue. The liquid helped quell the nausea. She closed her eyes again. The man sat near her on the floor. She envisioned him, as she knew him, inside the bedroom and outside. His laugh. His kindness. In short, he was perfect for her. He loved her. But did she love him? She sighed. She knew the answer, of course, but she didn't know why. Perhaps, she could never know why. She kept her eyes closed. His gentle breathing, and the soft sounds of him sipping his wine reached her ears. But Simone's face hovered ethereally behind her closed eyelids.



Reaching down, her fingers entwined with his, she pulled him gently to his feet. She shushed Shawn with a single finger against his lips. She guided him to the sliding glass doors that overlooked the wet deck, the uncaring forest beyond, partially shrouded in white mist. Her fingers unlocked the door, and a cool breeze washed over them. Rain kissed her jeans and feet. "But it's raining, Dee." Without hesitation, she walked out onto the deck and pulled her damp shirt over her head, dropping it in a wet heap near her feet. She pulled off her socks with her toes. She placed her hands on her hips and turned towards the cabin, where Shawn stood watching her. Beckoning, she smiled. He stepped out into the rain. Like an audience, their clothing surrounded them. In the middle of the deck, she straddled him, riding him slow and steady. She closed her eyes, fingers trailing over wet skin, between her legs, stroking. Up. Down. Rock. Rain dripped through her hair, flowing like a river down her bare back. She ran her hands over his wet chest, fingers dipping between his teeth. Behind her, the rain hissed off the surface of an unseen mountain lake. It may have been clean rain, or it might have been salty tears, dripping down her cheeks. She began to cry softly as her mind wandered. Emerging from the forest, a naked girl walked through the wet pine needles, hands outstretched, a ring of keys twirling, catching the grey light wandering through the overcast. And suddenly, she could feel the breeze over her naked skin, the rain coating her from nipples to bare toes. But it wasn't her skin -- it was Simone's, even the pine needles under feet, the scent of new rain filling her nostrils. Tears intermixed with the rain.



As her lips touched the lips of Simone, as she kissed herself, her body clenched, climax rising over her. Dimly, she was aware of Shawn exploding within her, her climax triggering his. Below her, Shawn moaned, his hips thrusting upwards into her. Her climax drained from her slowly, her breathing falling back to normal. Her muscles relaxed and she fell forward, embracing Shawn, and shivering. She should have been satisfied. Should have been happy. Tears continued to flow, though she was almost sure that Shawn would mistake her hitching breathing for afterglow. Satisfaction? Only physical. Only frustration. Only lies. It was as if it were the last time she would love him. She carried the dry blanket beside her, brushing against her bare legs. She shivered, wished that she could wrap the blanket around herself, but instead, she tucked the coarse cloth around Shawn who lay softly snoring in the bed that she should be sharing with him. Shawn mumbled something in his sleep, and she smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead. Slowly, she gathered up her soaked clothes, holding the pieces dripping in her left hand. A small puddle gathered around her bare feet as she watched him sleep for a while. After a few moments, perhaps sensing her, he opened his eyes, a light of understanding falling across his face. "Sleep well," she whispered. "Good-bye," he mumbled before closing his eyes again. Shivering, Deanna sat at the kitchen table, goosebumps rising across her bare breasts. Ignoring the shakes, she held her head for a moment, then bent over a clean sheet of white paper. Dots of water fell from her hair, forming small miniature puddles and smudging her writing. Though she wasn't crying yet, the water reminded her of



tears. The pen continued inexorably across the paper. For a moment, she hesitated at the door, one hand lightly resting on the knob, the other still carrying her clothing. With a sigh, she stepped out into the rain. Instantly, it coated her skin again. The gravel of the driveway pressed painfully into her bare feet, but she continued without complaint. It wasn't difficult to ignore the pain when it was less than what she knew she must do. At the truck, she hesitated. Slowly, she turned back towards the cabin. Shawn stood in the window, and for a moment, she was sure that he was the man from the Portal, the Dragon. She blinked and the image disappeared, a trick of the light. She turned back to the truck, her fingers lightly lifting the door handle. Locked, it didn't open, and she sighed. Keys. She took a step back towards the cabin, tears beginning again. She couldn't remember a time that she'd cried as much in a single day. The keys would be in Shawn's jeans, or perhaps on the table near the entrance. She stopped, the gravel near the front wheel sharper beneath her feet than that she'd already traversed to get to the truck from the cabin. Maybe it was a sign, an omen. She wasn't meant to do this. A sign that she'd forgotten something as simple as a set of keys. How could she unlock anything without keys? She shifted her weight slowly from foot to foot. A flash of metallic light caught her eye near the centre of the wide expanse of the truck's hood. Keys. She stared at the keyring for a while, before reaching across the wet metal and picking them up. She twirled them about her finger and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/keys.html (16 of 18)8/15/2005 12:03:43 AM


cried there for a long, long time. The sweatshirt protested as she pulled it over her head. The sodden cloth clung to her like a second skin, causing her to cry out at the sudden cold against her breasts. The cabin filled the windshield. In the same window where the Dragon and Shawn had appeared, a golden haired girl shimmered, her skin striped by afternoon sun through slatted blinds. Deanna blinked, and the image faded. Simone. Shawn. Simone. Shawn. Dependable. Trusting. Understanding. Kind. Simone. Exciting. Vibrant. Forbidden. Naughty. Kind. Her hand lightly grasped the she knew that she should run and slip under the warmth of keys twirled about her index

door handle. She loved him once, and back to the cabin, tear up the note, the blanket, curl up with Shawn. The finger, as water dripped into her eyes.

The Dragon's voice touched her. "Who do you love?" Try as she might, Simone's image filled her mind. Not the man sleeping in the cabin beyond the safety glass. Her body tingled, as her bare feet caressed the pedals. She loved him once. But it wasn't fair on him. Or her. She probably shouldn't be driving barefoot, but the rough texture of the brake pedal caressed the bottom of her foot. Her toes depressed the brake pedal, the red taillights reflecting off the mist behind the pickup. She stopped twirling the keys about her finger. Shawn marked the keys with bands of coloured plastic. The crimson tipped key marked the ignition. She slipped it into the slot. The engine roared to life, and the sound drew her from her reverie.



Lies. Keys. She had no idea if Simone would return her calls. "I'm sorry, Shawn, but I think I love her." He knew, and somehow, he understood. She stared at the keys dangling in the ignition. His keys. His truck. She'd return them to him, as soon as she could. Somehow, and she didn't understand it, he wasn't expecting them back soon. Nor was he expecting her back. She stared out the window into the rain. Then she lifted her foot from the brake pedal, and the truck smoothly reversed, its tires crunching the gravel. The keys jingled in the ignition.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Four of a Kind - Crimson Dragon

Four of a Kind © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Four of a Kind (MF, rom, strip poker) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - October 2002 Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Five cards stared up at me while the implications of their configuration suffused my being. Four queens, the heart suit carefully arranged on the left, followed by her sisters, each card a mirror image of the previous except for the suit. The last card, the ace of spades, broke the pattern, but served to complete the hand in mocking simplicity. I never played much poker, wasn't the gambling type, but I knew enough that this hand, the one I held between my trembling fingers, was rare. I had never seen a natural four of a kind, and I likely never would again. Some people spend their entire lives gambling and don't see a hand like this. I sighed. Somehow, we'd all become four of a kind on this lonely, rainy, dark holiday.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (1 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


The day was dark and dismal, October rain clouds tumbling across the sky like dirty cotton, whipped by a frigid wind that chilled to the bone. I shivered and pushed the battered old suitcase into the trunk of the idling Ford. I slammed the cover and straightened, wrapping my arms about me, shaking as the wind tore through my light jacket. "Petie, my friend, sure you don't want to go home?" Bradley stepped around from the passenger side of the car. He wore a sensible parka, complete with fake fur lining the hood, and cowboy boots. "Don't call me Petie," I said glumly. Brad stopped beside me and cocked his head to the side. His normal wisecracking visage crumbled into a more serious, thinlipped frown. "You need to tell her," he said seriously. I nodded my head. Yes, I needed to tell her. And if I weren't such a goddamn coward, I would have climbed into the Ford with Brad, travelled the four hours to Apsley, and talked to her like I should have months ago. "Bradley! We need to get going!" Bradley's mother leaned out the driver's window, her hair billowing in the wind, flashing us both an impatient look. Bradley turned towards her, and shrugged. She slipped back inside, furiously cranking back up the window. "I'll be there in a minute, Mom." Then he turned back to me. "There's still time, you don't even need to pack. Come back home. It's Thanksgiving." I bit at my lip, tempted, but then shook my head. Brad sighed and moved forward to embrace me. I stiffened for a moment, then gave in. I felt his palm smack my shoulder, then he straightened. "If you won't go see her, then you should at least call her." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (2 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


Brad shook his head in dismay. "It's Thanksgiving." "I know," I whispered. Brad nodded, as if he understood me. Without another word, he turned and rounded the car. I heard the passenger door slam, and with the spinning of tires on the pavement, the Ford pulled away. I stood and watched even as its headlights disappeared down the curve in the road, turning left at the stone gates of the University. As far as I knew, Brad had been the last of my few friends to leave the school, rushing towards feasts of turkey and parsnips set on long dining room tables, laughter and warmth surrounding them all. I turned and stared up at the empty dormitory, its harsh white cinder blocks reminding me more of a jail than living space for twenty students. I mentally corrected myself. It was entirely possible that for this Thanksgiving holiday, I was the only student left who was foolish enough not to escape this place. Holidays were the hardest -- school slowed down enough to give us time to think. The first drops of October rain spattered to the pavement, dotting its surface like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. After a few minutes, the moisture had trickled into my hair and down my neck. Shivering, I trudged up the path towards the dorm, watching my sneakers until I passed back into the relative warmth of where I now called home. I stared out the window at the clouds tumbling over each other like cats chasing their tails. Streaks of water, like tears, trickled down the window, obscuring my vision. Trees bent and twisted in the wind, multi-coloured leaves whirling in mini-tornadoes across the manicured lawns and footpaths across the small campus. We'd kissed for the first time on a day like this: stormy, dreary, rain pattering against the basement windows. Karen and I had been friends as long as I could remember -- she had lived next door, and we had spent our childhood together. It had been an October day, around Thanksgiving, sitting around the television watching Gilligan's Island, or something else inane.



"Have you ever kissed a girl?" Karen asked quietly from her end of the sofa. I shook my head, watching the Skipper smack Gilligan with his hat for the zillionth time. Suddenly, she was close, her hands resting entwined against my shoulder. I turned to her, her face hovering only centimetres from mine. Without thought, without considering what it might do to our easy friendship, I kissed her. It was as simple as that, lips touching, her warm breath taking away the pattering of the rain outside. Oh, I loved Karen in my own way, but something was missing. She wanted different things out of life -- a family, maybe a farm. I wanted to reach the stars. She was there, but we rarely talked any more -- the easy friendship dissolving in kisses and petting. A typical high-school romance. We sat together quietly, watching the sunset, fingers entwined in easy familiarity. It was the end of summer, not cool, not hot, autumn approaching. There were subtle tears filling her eyes, but none had spilled, yet. "Do you really have to go?" she asked. I nodded as the sun began to touch the horizon over the lake. Mist spiralled upwards from the water, shrouding the molten ball of orange. "You know I do, Karen." I wanted to tell her then. I've hated myself ever since. I loved her, but not in the way she wanted me to. And I couldn't tell her. I couldn't as she looked up at me, losing me to the big world outside of hers, trusting that I'd come back. Instead of telling her what I felt, I kissed her, telling her what she wanted to hear. "I love you, Peter," she said simply.



I should have told her then. I should have. I should have. I should have. I swallowed, and said exactly what I shouldn't have. "I love you, too, Karen." I could still feel her lips as they brushed my cheek, her breasts as they pressed into me as she embraced me before I left her. "Come back soon," she had whispered as she stood by and watched as I climbed into the car, on my way to University and a new life, leaving her standing by herself on the curb. I didn't even look back as the car moved away from her and towards the beckoning unknown. I don't even know if she waved. I stared out the window at the rain, the campus awash in what had begun to look like the great flood. The footpaths had become swollen rivers, the manicured grass sodden and empty. My heart ached in indecision. Sometimes, I still hated myself. The dorm was unusually quiet. Only the quiet laugh track kept me company as I sat in front of the television. Gilligan's Island had transformed into more cerebral humour for me. M*A*S*H graced the magic box, where the antics of Hawkeye, Trapper and Hot Lips ignored the general dreariness outside the large windows behind me. Not many dorms these days were co-ed, but this white-washed cinder block structure housed twenty of us. Twelve girls, eight guys, all living together in controlled chaos. At this time of night, there usually would have been four fights for control of the only television, while four of the guys would be playing Euchre on the old battered card table in the corner. Sometimes, for money, mostly to pass the time. Sometimes, they would be playing Hearts, and occasionally, when they could find four people who knew how to play, Bridge. All in all, a happy community, if not the quietest in the world. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (5 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


Today, as most of them were travelling to distant homes where relatives and girlfriends and boyfriends waited to greet them, the dorm fell into an almost eerie silence around me. I glanced out the window during a commercial. The rain continued to pour over the world, cleansing it, and drowning it simultaneously. I sat at the end of the more comfortable sofa in the common room -- a luxury that was rare for me. The phone hanging on the wall stared accusingly at me. Brad's words haunted me: "Call her at least." I think sometimes I tell Brad too much. But I think he might have sensed it anyway. He was right, of course. I missed Karen terribly. I missed her laughter and her easy friendship, and I desperately wanted to call her. I should have called her. I wanted to love her. I couldn't. Life wasn't fair sometimes. I tore my eyes from the instrument, and returned to watching the antics of the 4077th. A new episode of M*A*S*H began with the haunting theme music. Suicide is painless. Uh, huh. Somewhere down the hallway, towards the female section of the dorm, a door slammed, and I sensed, more than heard, a whisper of feminine giggling. Presently, the entrance opened to my right, and two girls entered. The brunette, Alison, was familiar -- tall and lanky, wearing blue jeans and a bright blouse. The girl beside her, Claire, was only a little shorter, laughing, with her blonde hair drawn back in a braid. There were rumours circulating around, as rumours normally do, that these two girls might be a little more than friends. They came from the same all-girl Academy directly to our little University. They seemed inseparable. Personally, I didn't believe the rumours, but even if they were true, I didn't care. If they were happy together, what else can one ask for? It would be far better than a fractured lie of a relationship that is more 'typical,' whatever that means. Rumours get started over the silliest things. Girls tend to be more affectionate than guys, that was all. "What's up?" Alison asked me. I smiled and motioned them to make themselves comfortable. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (6 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


"Watching re-runs, you want to watch something?" Truthfully, I was surprised that anyone else was still here, but I didn't mind if they wanted to watch another show. I wasn't stuck on the sitcom. I was barely watching it. Alison settled into the far sofa and Claire stretched out yawning onto the sofa nearest the phone, cradling her head on her hands. "M*A*S*H is good," Alison offered, settling in and turning her eyes to the screen. Claire sighed, and shrugged, doing the same. In the first commercial break, Claire pushed herself up and approached the phone. I closed my eyes and looked away, not even wanting to think about the damn instrument. She dialled and spoke quickly into the phone, her voice lost amongst the blaring commercials. I thumbed down the volume for her. After a moment, she covered the mouthpiece and turned towards us. "Cafeteria is closed for the weekend." Alison and I groaned together. Claire smiled. "What do you want on your pizza?" We couldn't decide, so Claire ordered two, one with anchovy, the other without. Alison shrugged, willing to eat either. Turning away from the television, I glanced out into the downpour. While the sun wasn't visible through the cloud cover and the rain, its light became decidedly more distant as the invisible sunset approached. Twilight filtered through the clouds, turning the world outside grey and featureless. I squinted. A flash of pale colour moved near one of the footpaths. I wiped at the condensation on the window, ignoring the dampness coating my palm. I peered out. A girl moved through the downpour, her head down and unprotected in the rain. Taking each step carefully, her boots nearly disappeared in the wash of water flowing down the paths. She carried something in her arms, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (7 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


clutching it to her chest. I couldn't tell who it was or what she was carrying. "Who is that?" I asked, my finger pressed against the glass. In a moment, Alison was leaning on my shoulder, her clean feminine scent washing over me, her brunette hair tickling my cheek. She peered through the small cleared patch beyond the streaked rain. I shifted to give her more room. Alison blinked, and then bit her lower lip. "I think it's Carole," she murmured. "Silly girl out in the rain like this. She's crazy, you know." Alison straightened and wandered back to her perch. I continued to watch the girl struggle through the downpour, ignoring the television. Once, the girl nearly slipped and fell, and the crazy urge to laugh descended on me as I watched her retrieve whatever it was she was carrying from the water saturated ground and wipe it off with a bare hand. The urge to laugh fled as quickly as it had come, and I mentally chastised myself. Instead, the thought was replaced by a vision of myself, a knight in shining armour racing through the rain to help the girl up. I shook off the image, convinced that it would have been the knight, not her, who would have needed rescuing. I continued to watch her slow journey. Carole was a strange girl. She wasn't mean, or cruel -- only strange. She kept to herself, never joining the rest of us in the common areas. As far as I knew, she didn't really have any friends, nor did she seek to have any. She was a loner, happy and content to be by herself. From everything I heard and saw, the girl studied, and slept, and really didn't do much else. On the other hand, I'd also heard that she was a genius level intellect -- that she didn't even need to study to breeze through the courses she took. Thinking about it, I realised that I had no idea what she studied, nor what she majored in. Though I always tend to resist blind belief in rumours, the one concerning her intelligence I did believe, though why she attended this University was beyond me. If the rumours were true, she could have attended the best schools on the continent, or throughout Europe, if she chose. Even if she wasn't a genius, certainly she was far beyond my limited mental capacity. One only had to look at my borderline grades to understand that. A typical eccentric genius should wear librarian glasses and dress in baggy clothing. While Carole didn't fit the stereotype, she also didn't seem to place much emphasis on her appearance, almost http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (8 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


deliberately toning down her tall, blonde stature. Some days she'd appear in jeans and sweatshirt that almost hugged her body, her blonde hair swept up into an easy ponytail as she breezed through on her way to class. Other days, she'd appear in baggy sweats with nothing tucked in, socks mismatched, her hair unbrushed across her features. I don't ever recall seeing makeup on her or nail polish on her fingers. A book of one sort or the other always clutched in her hands, she was always in a hurry, never stopping to talk, and on the rare occasions that someone cornered her, never talking about herself. Carole was a bit of an enigma, but she didn't bother anyone, and nobody bothered her. The dorm was like that. We accepted peculiarities, because underneath, we were all peculiar in our own ways. Yes, Carole was a strange girl, but despite Alison's announcement, probably not any more crazy than the rest of us. I watched as Carole purposely and carefully placed one booted foot in front of the other, like a robot, moving steadily, if slowly, splashing through the river of a footpath towards the warmth of our dorm. Carole appeared, following a bluster of wind and dampness as the door opened and shut. She pressed the door closed and stood dripping near the entrance. I glanced up. Her eyes seemed a little vacant, her golden hair plastered in tangles to her head. Across her chest, she clutched a stack of library books that looked as if they had been dropped multiple times in the mud. She wore a light jacket, a windbreaker, that hadn't protected her from the rain, its surface stuck to her like a wet suit. Her pants mirrored the jacket, clinging to her like a second skin. For the first time, perhaps, I noticed that underneath her clothing stood a body that rivalled Alison's or Claire's. Of course, now, Carole more closely resembled a drowned rat, or a lost child, unable or unwilling to care for herself. She shivered uncontrollably as she stood in the entrance, her eyes slowly taking in our presence. Studiously, she bent and pulled off her boots. I was sure that water would come pouring out of them as if she'd stepped from a cartoon tempest. She straightened again, still shivering, her teeth now chattering. She didn't move from the entranceway, almost as if afraid of trailing water through the common room. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (9 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


I swallowed, not knowing quite what to say. What finally emerged sounded inane and stupid, even to me. "Shouldn't you be home for the weekend?" Instead of ignoring me, as I thought she would, Carole shrugged, her thin shoulders pushing her soaked clothing upwards. Unexpectedly, a melancholy look crossed her fair features, and she lowered her eyes to study her wet socks. A quiet voice dragged my stunned attention from Carole. "Jesus," Alison whispered. I watched as Alison pushed herself off the sofa and approached Carole. Gently, Alison extracted a few of the wet books from Carole's arms, and then took her elbow, guiding the girl towards her room. Numb, I watched them disappear into the gloom of the hallway. When I turned back, Claire shook her head and shrugged, turning back to the mindless sitcom on the television. The petite girl delivering the pizza wore a sensible yellow slicker, and a baseball cap that proclaimed "Domino's" in tall red script. She stood under the overhang, huddling away from the downpour. Her car idled, spewing exhaust in a cloud that fought for supremacy with the rain. She looked damp, but far less so than Carole had. She held out the two covered boxes that looked far too small to be large pizzas. I grasped them and placed them inside out of the rain. "Crappy night," I said, fishing in my wallet for cash. "Not a night suited for man or beast," she replied with the hint of a smile. "Not even Dragons would be out in this." I shrugged, and passed her two twenties. I couldn't really afford it, but I told her to keep the change. I'd overtipped her, but as far as I was concerned, she deserved every penny. She smiled radiantly from beneath her cap, and then turned to disappear into the storm. I watched her go, a latent desire to be that knight emerging again for the anonymous delivery girl. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (10 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


The girl slipped into her car, and drove off, driving far faster than might be safe considering the weather. I sighed, picked up the pizzas and trudged into the common room, thankful for the warmth and the light there. Claire helped set the steaming boxes on the card table, helping herself to a couple of slices and settling into the sofa, her attention back on Trapper and Henry Blake. Moments later, Carole and Alison reappeared, walking together into the common area. Alison made for the pizzas, while Carole stood awkwardly near the entrance. Carole looked more dry now, her skin almost scrubbed. She wore a pair of Levi's and a t-shirt, far more fetching than the clothes she normally wore. Her hair remained wet, plastered to her head, but the strands bore the easy streaks of a brush or comb, the tangles of the storm faded into straight, if limp, tresses kissing her shoulders. The shoulders of her shirt bore damp patches where her hair had transferred water. I motioned Carole over. Given her solitary nature, I had no idea if she even ate pizza, or if she was a militant vegan. "Have some pizza, Carole. The cafeteria is closed tonight, I understand." I gathered up some pizza and returned to my former seat in the comfortable sofa. After a few minutes of hesitation, Carole walked gingerly over to the food and extracted a single slice of the plainer, anchovy-free, pizza and then settled into the only free chair in the room. A commercial came on selling used cars. I muted the television and turned towards Alison. Between bites, I shrugged. "So, what's your story?" Alison swallowed daintily, and turned her brown eyes towards me. "Story?" "Why aren't you driving into civilisation?"



"You want to know why I'm here on Thanksgiving?" I nodded. She sighed, and took another bite. After swallowing again, she nodded, pursing her lips. "Okay. I'll tell you." "When my parents had me, I think that they were expecting a boy. Don't get me wrong," Alison murmured, "they loved me, and they still do, but I really don't think that they knew quite what to make of me. Instead of 'Mommy', I think my first words were 'Nanny'. I didn't really mind; I suppose I have an independent streak. Maybe it's because I had to develop that way. I don't know. Doesn't matter. "For high school, they sent me to Laurier Academy for Girls. I liked it there well enough, but what it really meant was that they didn't need to deal with me. Claire and I were roommates there." At this point, Alison flashed a smile at Claire, and I was reminded of the rumours surrounding the two girls. I shrugged, and continued to listen to her voice. "I don't think I remember a single time that the family ever got together for holidays. Either Mother and Father were traipsing over the globe, or Father had 'commitments.' Even before school, my Thanksgivings consisted of turkey, and if I was lucky, I got to eat in the kitchen with my Nanny and the maids. I didn't mind, it was as close to family, I suppose, as I got. "So I called them two weeks ago. Surprisingly, Mother was home and talked to me. I mentioned that I was thinking of coming home for Thanksgiving, and she agreed, saying that she was looking forward to it." Alison sighed, and for a moment, I thought I saw a tear forming, but then it was gone. "Two days ago, she called the school, told the Dean that she couldn't reach me but to extend her apologies. Father and her had to go to Hawaii for the holidays." She shrugged, but didn't really look at any of us.



"C'est la vie, I suppose." Claire cleared her throat, and perched on the sofa near Alison. The girls held hands, and again I was reminded of the rumours. Bullshit. I felt terrible for Alison, and I think if I were seated beside her, I would have held her hand, too. Alison composed herself and bit off another piece of pizza. "I didn't want to bring the party down," Alison said easily. "I'm used to it, but you did ask." She forced a smile to her face. Claire cleared her throat again, and tilted her head to the side. "I'm here because I didn't want Alison to be alone on Thanksgiving. When I'd heard that she was going home, I made plans to go home, too. Then Alison's plans fell through, and," she shrugged, "my family understood, even if Alison begged me to go." She shifted herself away from Alison, and leaned back into the sofa. She shifted her feet to lie easily across Alison's legs. "I thought that we'd be the only two in the dorm." Claire flashed me an easy smile. "We spilled. What's your story, Peter?" I couldn't tell them about Karen, the real reason that I was sitting here listening to the rain with three girls I barely knew. So I settled for half-truths, none of them lies, exactly, but leaving out the single-most important reason that I didn't want to go home. I inhaled deeply, and began. "Did you ever have an uncle that drank a little too much and then talked too loud? At every single family gathering?" Claire shook her head with a small smile, answering the rhetorical question. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (13 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


"Yeah, I had to fight off his hands every single time. He was too drunk to be a real threat, but it kind of grossed me out." I laughed lightly, even while disgusted. Claire didn't seem to be overly upset about her offhand revelation, either. "Well, mine doesn't try to molest me, but he is obnoxious. He smokes, and he drinks, and he tells the most off colour jokes ..." Claire interrupted. "Tell us some," she laughed. I turned to her. "You want to know why I'm here, or not?" Claire somehow managed to look abashed, and nodded. "Tell us the jokes later, then, you big baby." I shot her a look, and continued. "Anyway, it doesn't make for the greatest holidays, and Mom and Dad insist on inviting him. Not surprisingly, he's not married, and really doesn't have any other family." "You didn't go home because your uncle is a pain in the ass?" I sighed, realising that I was going to have to elaborate. I felt like I had been suddenly drawn into an escalating game of Truth or Dare. "Truthfully, no. That's only part of it." I put on a fake sheepish look. "I'm a little behind in my classes, and if I want to be here next semester, and keep my scholarship, I need to study this weekend." Claire laughed again. "So you watch M*A*S*H reruns. I like your studying technique." I shrugged. I'd get to studying eventually. A small voice behind me and to the right saved me from further interrogation. I swivelled in my seat to face Carole. The girl sat in the single chair, her feet resting against the legs easily, her elbows on her knees. Her hands cradled a half-eaten slice of pizza. I could make out small teeth indents where she'd nibbled the tip. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (14 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


"There is no Thanksgiving for me," she whispered. Her voice filled the room, the light from the silent television flickering across her nose and lips. This one sentence was probably more than I'd ever heard her speak since the semester began. "Not any more." We all shifted quietly to regard her. She didn't look at us, but lowered her eyes to her own toes, or perhaps the floorboards underneath. "I used to love Thanksgiving -- the turkey, the hams, the laughter and the closeness. It was like Christmas, but without the presents. An early Christmas." She paused for a moment. I couldn't see her face, but I thought maybe that she would leave it there. I half expected Claire to prompt her, but perhaps Claire felt the same as I. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the rest, a heavy feeling suffused my stomach. Whatever hadn't been spoken by the quiet girl would be far worse than a noisy uncle, or neglectful parents. I shivered, even while the room was warm. Rain pattered against the window, marking time until she whispered again. "He'd drunk two bottles of rye, and twelve beers on a dare," she said. I had to strain to hear her words. "Then he climbed into his Cherokee, and drove ten kilometres without meeting another soul. Somewhere, on a dark side road, fate finally caught up to him. Maybe my parents' headlights were too bright, and confused him, maybe he simply lost control of the damn jeep, maybe he fell asleep at the wheel. I don't think I'll ever know ..." her voice trailed off. The lump of lead expanded in my stomach, creeping into my chest. I wanted to tell her that she didn't have to continue. I could see her shoulders shaking, her body quivering, her hair trembling beside her downcast cheeks. Even so, I don't think tears fell, but I couldn't see her face. "So, you see," she finally whispered, "There is no Thanksgiving for me. Not any more." Stunned, I could only watch as Carole wearily pushed herself to her feet, her socks whispering through the silence. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes shiny, but tears still unshed. Then she lowered her eyes and walked over to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (15 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


the nearly empty boxes. Carefully, she placed the remainder of her single slice back into the box and lowered the lid. I watched as the girl disappeared down the hallway, like a ghost into the night. "Oh my God, should I go to her?" Alison whispered. Both Claire and I shook our heads slowly. I found my tongue before Claire did. "She's lived with it for a while. Let her be. She'll come back when she's ready." Alison nodded, though she kept glancing back at the hallway as if expecting Carole to stride back through. I'd thumbed down the volume of the television in an effort not to disturb Carole, wherever she was, and whatever she was doing. Alison and Claire had curled up on the opposite sofa, but they seemed to be watching the mindless drivel as much as I was. I saw pictures flash by without meaning or thought. The only slice of pizza that remained was Carole's half eaten piece that lay lonely by itself in the box. We all looked up as Carole entered. Her hair still looked damp, but the strands no longer clung to her head like wet fur. Her eyes were a little red, but her stride seemed more steady and sure than it normally did. The obvious question died on my lips. Her face broadcast for anyone who cared to look that things weren't all right for her -- what was the point in asking stupid questions? But she seemed in control of herself, and that was more than I was expecting. Outside, the storm seemed to pick up intensity. A lightning bolt lit up the room like a camera flash. The lights and the television flickered, but didn't extinguish. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (16 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


She smiled and held up her right hand. Grasped between her fingers was a deck of cards, a diamond shaped red pattern gracing their backs. Carole swallowed twice, as if wondering if she should even be here. She seemed to come to a decision. "Anyone know how to play poker?" We set up the battered old card table near the window. Claire wandered back to her room and returned with a silver can of pennies that jingled as she walked. I faced the window with Carole across from me, Alison to my left and Claire to my right. Claire counted out piles of pennies for each of us, until we each had a dollar or so in a stack in front of us. Gambling wasn't allowed on campus. Of course, for all we knew, we were the only souls stirring on campus. Even the dorm proctors had left for Thanksgiving. Didn't really matter. The pennies were really only symbolic. There wasn't real risk involved, and I thought that this was how the girls wanted to play. A quiet diversion, nothing else. Something to occupy our minds. Outside, the storm howled around the building, lightning occasionally crashing, the world reduced to a black sheet of water outside the windows. I thought I saw Alison shiver once as she glanced out beyond the glass. The first four hands played out uneventfully. Claire won two pots, Carole won one and I won the other. As Carole prepared to deal the fifth hand, a bright flash burned across my retinae, leaving multi-coloured bands where the girls should have been. Only a moment later, the building shook as if an earthquake had dislodged it from its foundations. Dimly, I heard Alison and Claire scream beside me, though Carole seemed to take the sudden crash in stride. The lights flickered once, then again, then finally plunged us into complete darkness. Alison laughed lightly, but shakily. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (17 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


"Guess it's bedtime." Then after a pause. "Claire!" After a few seconds, the emergency halogens washed away the complete darkness replacing it with dim pools of light along the two hallways that leaked into the common room. I squinted, but couldn't see the cards in my hand, though I could make out the silhouettes of the girls still seated at the table. Claire pushed herself up. "Be back in a minute," she said. We all watched as she disappeared down the hallway only to return a few moments later with candles in her right hand. She lit each in what seemed to be a blaze of light, dripping wax onto the table and setting each candle into the makeshift puddles and allowing them to harden. When she was done, a small flame burned at each corner shedding only enough light to read the cards. Candlelight flickered over the girls, and for a while, I simply watched them. We played two more hands. Unfortunately, poker without risk is like riding in a flat roller coaster -- there really isn't any point. For me, I was enjoying the company in the blackout, but I really wasn't surprised when Carole leaned back in her chair. For a moment, I thought I saw a glint of impish joviality there, something completely unexpected, especially given the revelations of earlier this evening. However, if the game had taken her mind off her grief, even for a while, I was glad to see the sparkle of life there, even if I didn't really know her all that well. Carole dropped her cards on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you want to make this game more interesting?" she whispered. I had been expecting her to suggest using real money instead of the penny markers that we'd been betting carelessly up until http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (18 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


this point. I stared at her, actually unsure that she'd uttered the words. This was Carole, the quiet, nerdy, super intelligent, weird girl. It was difficult to shake the image. I repeated her words incredulously. "Strip poker?" She nodded her head. "None of us can afford real money, right?" I certainly nodded at that. "Why not, then?" "Strip poker?" I said again. "You're kidding." Carole cast me a cock-eyed glance in the candlelight. "Are you afraid of something?" I swallowed. "Afraid? Of what?" She hesitated, gauging how far to push me. She shrugged. "Afraid of losing to three girls? Are you embarrassed about something?" She glanced meaningfully through the table to where my crotch would have been. I flushed. This was the same girl that we'd watched struggle through the rain carrying a stack of library books as if they were a lifeline? The same girl that barely said two words to anyone unless severely pressed? "You want to play strip poker." She nodded. "I don't think I'll lose." I glanced at Alison and Claire. They weren't any help. They merely smiled and shrugged. They were willing if I was. Carole spoke again, her voice animated. "We'll still play with the pennies. One article of clothing buys you a dollar's worth of chips. Ten cent bets, maximum. No http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (19 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


cheating. Pants, socks, shirts are the only items that you can use -- oh, and underwear of course." Carole glanced at me and shrugged. "Girls get an extra piece of clothing if they are wearing bras, unless there are objections." She paused. It didn't seem fair, but being outnumbered, I didn't object. Carole leaned back in her chair. "Anyone can chicken out at any point. Fair enough? If you don't want us to see your ... thing ... you can bow out before you lose your shorts, Peter." I flushed. If anyone was going to bow out, assuming that I agreed to the game, it wouldn't be me. But it seemed fair enough, except for the bras counting as clothing. She clicked her tongue, staring up at the ceiling. "And if anyone loses all their clothing, we agree that the loser stays naked until morning." She lowered her head, staring at me. I didn't know why she was challenging me directly -- it seemed that the girls to either side of me might object more so than I. However, Alison and Claire remained silent, their lack of objection implying consent. I swallowed once. Poker without risk was like riding a flat roller coaster. I raised my eyes slowly and captured hers. I don't know why I agreed, but I did. "Okay," I murmured. Because of the nature of the game, someone always remains clothed at the table. Sometimes two people, sometimes even three if the pots are shared equally, and the loser is literally losing her shirt. More often, one person is lucky, and rakes in the pots, and over time, the three others dwindle. I sat comfortably, four stacks of pennies rising in my pile. I tried not to stare, but it wasn't easy. The candlelight flickered easily off the girls' skin, giving them an ethereal beauty as they gazed at their cards. Not one had complained beyond the expected groans as Claire or Alison had to trade an item of clothing for chips. Alison's jeans and socks lay neatly folded near her bare feet. Claire's shirt, jeans, and socks lay crumpled on the ground. She wore a dark coloured bra that matched her panties. Claire seemed unfazed at her condition, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (20 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


unembarrassed and still betting as if she were still fully clothed. Carole sat across from me. A string of bad luck had claimed only her socks, one at a time. Her bare toes dug into the floor as she concentrated on her cards. I dealt the cards one at a time. No wild cards. No silly rules. Straight poker. We all tossed in the ante before lifting the cards. Claire groaned as she picked up the hand. Alison, still to my right, sighed. I'd been able to read Alison and Claire pretty much all night, calling their bluffs and understanding the difference between pairs and three of a kind merely by the set of their frowns. Carole had been much harder to read. As Carole picked up her cards, her eyes widened a touch, then settled back into her more normal poker face. Carole shifted her weight, peering at her hand, never raising her eyes to mine in an attempt to read deceit. Claire folded, a noise of disgust passing her lips. The cards fluttered to the table. Alison tossed ten pennies into the pot, looking apprehensively at Carole. Carole called, as did I. Alison drew three, Carole drew one, and I drew three. I swiftly sorted my hand, my eyes widening. The pair of twos I held were joined by another two, and a pair of jacks, both black. A full house, lately, had been very difficult to beat. Alison's face fell as she sorted her hand. Carole sat across from me, watching me impassively. "Carole?" I said. It was her turn to bet. Carole glanced at Alison, then at me, and licked her lips. "Want to make it even more interesting?" "Hey, we had a betting limit," Alison cried and glared at Carole. Carole merely shrugged, staring at me. Butterflies flittered in my stomach. This seemed like a poor idea. If it was a bluff, it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (21 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


was a hell of a bluff. Resigned, Alison shook her head and dropped her cards on the table. "I'm out," she whispered, crossing her arms under her breasts. Carole stared at me, her eyes shiny in the candlelight. "I want to bet four dollars," she repeated. I heard Claire clear her throat gently to my right. "Carole ..." she whispered. Carole carefully fanned her cards out on the table, face down, and leaned back into her chair. Her eyes unfocused, and she seemed to be peering into a realm that was beyond our ability to comprehend. I suddenly knew that I didn't want to hear what she was about to tell us. "I called my boyfriend last week," Carole murmured towards the ceiling. Alison's jaw fell, and I wanted to reach over and close it for her. But her reaction was exactly what I felt. Carole had a boyfriend? "I called him to wish him a happy Thanksgiving, even if I no longer celebrate it. It rang a long time. A really, really long time." She paused here, staring at the ceiling where rings of flickering light danced. "Beth picked it up." "Beth?" Claire whispered. "Beth. She's my best friend. Was my best friend." Carole paused again. "I thought I'd dialled the wrong number. She seemed out of breath as she said 'Hello', her voice husky and low. But I recognised her. 'Beth?' I said. I was about to ask her if I had dialled the wrong number." Carole closed her eyes here, her shoulders hitched once, but she didn't lose control. "She said she was sorry, so sorry, and then hung up. I stared at the phone for a long time, then hung it up as the dial tone changed. I didn't call him back." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (22 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


Carole fished in her jeans without looking down. Between her fingers emerged a worn scrap of paper that looked like it had been folded and unfolded many times. She passed it to Alison who held it as if it was made of crystal. "I know what this is," she whispered. "It arrived two days ago, in the mail," Carole whispered. Alison passed it unopened to Claire, who passed it to me. The paper was still warm from Carole's body heat. Slowly, I opened the paper. Within, a masculine hand had scrawled a quick note. In the flickering of the candles, I could make out most of it, though I didn't want to. Dear Carole. Three months. Beth. Sorry. Forgive me. There were more words than that: explanation, regrets. Didn't really matter. It was over for Carole, and had been for a while, even if she hadn't known it. I swallowed and refolded the letter along the worn lines. Wordlessly, I passed it to Alison who laid it atop Carole's cards. "He was sleeping with her for three months and didn't tell me." Then fiercely. "I had to call him and catch him." She paused for a moment. "He was having sex with her even while he was telling me that he didn't 'feel' like it with me. He didn't call me once since I moved up here." Carole swallowed hard. Apparently I wasn't the only one that had hidden reasons for avoiding home on the holidays. She lowered her eyes and watched me expectantly. "I want to bet four dollars," she whispered. I glanced at Claire and then at Alison. Alison nodded almost imperceptibly, and I slowly turned back to Carole. Gently, I pushed four stacks of pennies into the pot where they stood like four skyscrapers between us. Carole nodded and quietly picked up her Dear Jane letter http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (23 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


and returned it to her pocket. Then she slowly pushed her remaining pennies into the pile. The understanding was implicit. She still wore a t-shirt, her jeans and presumably a bra and panties underneath. Four more dollars in clothing. If she won, she raked in the pot and bought back her socks putting us pretty much on even footing again. If she lost ... Carole picked up her cards again, squinting at them and swallowing heavily. When she looked back at me, her eyes glistened with unshed tears again. This time, she didn't run from the room. I had the uneasy feeling that Alison, Claire, and I were the only human beings on the planet to share in Carole's life. And suddenly, perhaps a premonition of what was to happen, I didn't want to be there. Carole slipped a forefinger into the neckline of her t-shirt, tugging gently before realising what she was doing. Her face remained impassive except for the shiny wetness coating her eyelids. "Call," I whispered. "One," Carole said grimly, pushing her discard across the table past the skyscrapers. I closed my eyes. Dear God, she was drawing to an inside straight. I stared at my full house and shook my head. I drew nothing. There was nothing left to bet -- not for her -- so all Carole did was raise her eyes, still shiny, to regard me, watching for anything to give away my hand. It simply didn't matter any more. To her credit, Carole maintained her composure as Alison and Claire shifted uncomfortably watching her and then me alternating like they were watching a match at Wimbledon. There was no hint of discomfort or fear in Carole's voice. "Whatcha got?" she whispered. I swallowed heavily, and fanned out the full house in front of me. Jacks over twos. I watched as her face crumbled for a moment. I'll give her credit for acting. For a moment, I http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (24 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


thought that she was going to fall apart in front of us. A bright flash of lightning lit up the room, and after a few seconds, a deep rumble rolled over us. Carole didn't flinch, but Alison and Claire did. "Better than me," Carole whispered staring at my hand. She dropped her cards face down in front of her. The cards lay in a neat fan. "Carole," I began, "you don't have to ..." With a grim smile playing across her lips, Carole pushed herself to her already bare feet and stood. Without any hint of embarrassment, Carole unhurriedly began to remove her clothes. Mesmerised, I watched her. In one fluid motion, she drew her t-shirt over her head, her hair falling in a loose cascade over her shoulder. Carefully, she smoothed the fabric and folded it, leaving it on her vacant chair. Her jeans slipped down her legs, and she stepped out of them, bending to shake them out and fold them to join with her top. She reached behind herself, and fumbled for a moment with the clasp to her bra. Alison and Claire shifted uncomfortably, watching Carole, a morbid fascination in the girl. Carole hesitated, drawing in her breath. To me, it didn't seem as much embarrassment as steeling herself for an arctic wind to kiss her chest. I almost missed it as she leaned forward and allowed the underwear to drop away from her breasts. I couldn't breathe. I glanced at Alison. The brunette sat nearly stunned in her chair, her mouth slightly open as she watched Carole. I returned my eyes to the nearly naked girl across from me. Carole inhaled audibly, then let her breath out as she pushed her panties to the floor. She left them there, only kicking them aside with her foot. Instead of covering herself with her hands, as I'd expected, she lowered her hands to brush at the sides of her bare thighs. She stood proudly, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (25 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


defiantly, her nudity exposing who she really was. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She broke the silence. "Four dollars," she whispered. "We're even." Carole reached forward and plucked one of the candles from the corner of the table. Its light played over her bare skin and hair, flickering, kissing, caressing. In its light, she looked like an angel -- innocent and ethereal. Then Carole straightened, though she didn't raise her eyes to capture any of ours. The silence stretched. I thought that she might sit again, even though she was out of the game, but instead, she glided forward, her bare feet silent against the floor. Only the pounding of the rain outside, and her soft breathing, filtered into my consciousness. I felt her touch before I realised what she wanted. I shook myself, expecting her touch to be cold and damp and sad. Instead, her fingers against my hand were warm and soft. Almost in a daze, I pushed myself up, her fingers guiding me. The candle flickered between us, her skin pale, my shirt feeling coarse against my chest. Her scent, feminine, reminding me vaguely of baby powder, rode above the gentle scent of candle wax. Two chairs clattered back. Carole ignored them, her eyes tracing my chest. I lifted my eyes past Carole's hair. Alison and Claire stood awkwardly behind Carole. Alison touched Carole's bare shoulder. "It's late," Alison whispered. "Thanks for the game." Carole turned and nodded once. Quickly, Alison bent and retrieved her few items of clothing, and Claire mimicked her. Together, they disappeared down the hallway, carrying their clothing. I heard a single door close quietly somewhere, and then silence returned, except for the rain and Carole's breathing. A tug to my fingers set my feet in motion. Numbly, I followed Carole into the dimness of the hallway. I glanced back once. Carole's clothing lay neatly about her chair, lonely. I turned away, hurrying to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (26 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


catch up with the small pool of flickering flame. Her hands seemed remarkably small and delicate against my shoulders. She didn't push with any real force, but I willingly fell where she wanted me. Her bed was small, a standard single issue that we all had inherited upon moving into this place. I lay half on and half off the bed staring up at her as she stood in front of me, still no attempts at covering her nudity. "I can't dress 'til morning. Rules," she whispered. "Carole ..." She shook her head slowly. "Peter. I don't want to be alone. Not with the storm. Not tonight. Please?" I swallowed heavily, staring up into her eyes. Her eyes radiated warmth, even while they reflected the flickering light of the candle as pools of molten liquid. I pushed myself up until I sat on the edge of the bed, my toes digging into the floorboards. Carole stepped back a single pace. I stared at her bare feet. For some reason, her feet, devoid of covering while the rain lashed her window, seemed to emphasise her strength and her vulnerability at the same time. "Carole ... I have a girlfriend. Back home. Her name is Karen." I paused, and whispered the name again. "Karen." I thought she'd throw me out right then and there. I would have deserved it. Instead, Carole sighed softly and turned on her heel. For a second, I thought that she was going to pull open a drawer and extract some clothes. Instead, she simply lowered herself into a chair, still naked, and crossed her arms under her breasts as if she were cold. She watched me for a moment as I fidgeted. When she finally spoke, her voice wasn't much above a whisper. "I had a boyfriend back home, too," she whispered. Her eyes lowered to watch her bare legs. When she raised her eyes again to mine, she refused to let me go. "Do you love her?" she asked. Such a simple and damning question. Did I love Karen? I swallowed, knowing the answer to that. Brad knew the answer, and even, I suspect, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (27 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


Karen herself knew the answer. I couldn't tear my eyes from Carole's. I should have been drinking in her body, losing myself in her curved breasts, her toned legs, her flat belly. Her eyes held mine, adamant and searching. I couldn't speak. Slowly, I shook my head. I was no better than the heartless slob that had broken this girl's heart. Lower than snails. Lower than dirt. I didn't love Karen, at least not as she wanted. Carole finally lowered her eyes, and relieved, I let my eyes drop. I didn't ogle her. I stared at a single board in the floor near her left toes, the oak shimmering in the faint light of the candle that still graced her fingers. "Peter," Carole whispered. "You aren't a coward. You have to tell her." I knew. God, how I knew. The spot on the floor I was staring at disappeared as her body slipped through it. Tears filled her eyes as she fell to her bare knees onto the floor and shuffled across the room. For a few moments, she knelt near her bedstand, the flame of the candle flickering crazily across the walls and her bed. Then it stabilised, and she turned. Silent tears dripped down her cheeks, and she made no attempt to brush them away. Slowly, she moved on her knees until she knelt between my thighs, her hands warm through the denim. She rose up, her skin close and soft, her bare breasts touching my shirt. She kissed me, her mouth warm, inviting, and soft. Without thought, my arms encircled her, and she stiffened for only a moment as my fingertips brushed the softness of her back. Her tongue flicked across my lips. I ached. All over. I ached for her. She broke the kiss, and an emptiness filled me. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered. Outside, the tempest raged on, pattering drops of water against the glass of her window. Thunder rolled across us, and lightning http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (28 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


pushed its way through the closed blinds to light up the room like camera flashes, temporarily overpowering the single candle. I closed my eyes, the flickering of the candle still visible, even while her image faded. My hands slipped across her back, light as a feather, brushing her sides, and finding her breasts. Carole gasped once, and then pressed herself against me, her lips hungry and insistent. She paused, hovering over me, her naked body reflecting in the light of a single flame. Her fingers held me upright, throbbing between her legs, ready to impale herself upon me. She swallowed, breathing heavily. Tears still ran unchecked down her cheeks, but it seemed right somehow -- to try to comfort her unthinkable. She cried unabashedly, even while she made love to me, somehow as cleansing for her as the act itself. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, and gently lowered herself onto me, engulfing me -- warm, moist, and full -- in a single motion of her body. For a while, I enjoyed her slow rocking, one body where there had been two before. I watched her beauty as she slowly moved above me, gently, but insistently, stilling my own movements with guiding touches. I didn't mind, and let her find her own path. Gently, I reached up to her, fingertips tracing her nipples, her breasts, her belly, her thighs, her knees, as she moved achingly slow. Up. Down. Rock. Up. Down. Rock. She sighed as my fingers found her clitoris. I could feel her motion, her rhythm, unlike any woman I've ever been with. Tears coursed down her cheeks like ancient rivers. With my fingers guiding her, she increased her rhythm. As unstoppable as a hurricane, I felt her tremble; my fingers stroked her skin, her clitoris, her being. Thunder crashed around us, the building trembling in the storm's fury. Her lips parted, and she cried out softly -- not a scream, but nearly a sigh, encapsulating freedom, pleasure, and release mixed together in harmony. Her muscles contracted around me, and my own eyes closed to the image of her climax as orgasm rushed over me, a stab http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (29 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


of lightning followed by thunder, my voice mingling with her sigh. A bright ray of light woke me. Disoriented, I refused to open my eyes, listening for the sounds of last night's storm, or the familiar ticking of my ancient alarm clock. Neither were present, but I became aware of an unfamiliar softness pressed against my left side. I opened my eyes. Sunlight streamed through the crack in Carole's blinds, striking my face in a painful glare. I blinked. She lay naked beside me, her head cradled in the crook of my arm, her golden hair fanned out across my chest, the softness of her breasts pressing into my ribs. One delicate hand lay across me, the fingers encircling my nipple. I blinked again, gently lifting her arm and slipping out from under her. She snuffled, and turned over, presenting the curve of her bare back to me, the curls of her spine meeting her bottom somewhere under the sheets. Silently, I rose and gathered my clothes from the floor where Carole had tossed them last night. The candle had transformed into a useless pool of wax with a blackened tip of wick emerging. The puddle of wax stood on her bedstand, presumably flickering out sometime in the deepest night. I pulled my boxers over my legs, and leaned down, hopping quietly to slip my jeans over my feet. "Whatcha doing?" Her voice whispered dreamily from the bed. I nearly fell as I turned, my jeans half up my thighs. She'd turned back over, curled up, her hands under her cheek. The bright sunlight slashed across her cheek, but she'd positioned herself so that the beam didn't intersect her eyes that remained closed. Her bare breasts peeked out between her arms, the sheet covering her only to her waist. Her body rose and fell as she breathed there. "Dressing," I said simply. My voice sounded hollow and empty echoing through her small room. "I can't," she said. For a moment, her words puzzled me, then the 'rules' flooded http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (30 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


back into my memory. "It's morning," I said. "You're allowed." She smiled without opening her eyes. I wanted to see her eyes. "I don't want to," she whispered. "And my clothes are out in the common room." "Surely ..." She shook her head sleepily. Truthfully, I didn't want her to dress anyway. I pulled my shirt over my head, settling it around my waist. I knelt beside the bed. Memories of her moving forward on her knees, naked, and kissing me made my chest ache. Gently, I leaned over and kissed her forehead. She murmured something that I couldn't make out. "I have a phone call to make," I whispered. Carole still didn't open her eyes. She only nodded. Alison sat easily in the corner of the sofa, a red terry bathrobe engulfing her. Her hair lay in tangled layers about her face, but she looked awake and happy. As I entered the common room, she glanced up from the campus newspaper and flashed me a smile. "Good morning," she said. "Or should I say afternoon?" If she was surprised that I'd emerged from the direction of the female wing, she didn't allow it to touch her face. Sunlight streamed in through the window to cover her like a blanket. She reminded me of a cat stretched out in a favourite sunbeam. "If you're looking for the showers, Claire has a monopoly on them. Even kicked me out. She'll probably be done soon." She grinned evilly. "I'm next, though." If I didn't know better, I would have said that Alison had that just-laid look about her -- something about the set of her body. She glowed somehow. I probably did, too, but it's different with guys. But if she had been laid ... who? Again, I wondered about the rumour, dismissing it for the zillionth time. I probably just had sex on the brain.



"I ... I have to make a phone call," I said dumbly. Alison nodded, as if she knew what I was talking about, and waved towards the phone sitting like a beacon on the far wall. Alison returned to the newspaper as I determinedly stepped across the room and lifted the receiver from its cradle. The dial tone greeted me with a muted buzz. Trying not to think about it, I pressed the buttons in a pattern with which I was far too familiar. Karen's voice issued tinny and far away from the earpiece. She sounded happy. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" I swallowed and gripped the handset. "Karen?" I whispered into the phone. "Peter? Is that you?" I paused again. Alison glanced up from her paper, and pushed herself up. Her bare feet whispered across the floor, and she bent as she approached where I was sitting. The terrycloth about her shoulders looked warm and soft. Alison bent and kissed my forehead. "You're doing the right thing," she whispered in my ear. Her breath was as warm and sexy as Carole's had been. I had no idea how Alison might know who Karen was, even if she'd overheard my only contribution to the strange conversation. With that, Alison straightened and stepped soundlessly towards the hallway. Dimly, I heard a shower cease somewhere down the hallway. I stared as Alison dropped the robe near the common room entrance where it pooled near her feet like a fiery puddle. I watched her naked back as Alison walked out of sight around the corner, calling out to Claire as she moved. "Peter?" I shook my head, tearing my eyes away from where Alison had http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (32 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


disappeared. "Peter? Are you still there? Peter?" I gathered in my breath, and closed my eyes. "Karen? We need to talk," I whispered. "I know, Peter. I know." I sat alone where Alison had been, her newspaper crumpled beside me. The sun streamed in to fall across my rumpled jeans. The storm had left the world looking clean and refreshed. A light breeze stirred a few coloured leaves across the green lawn below. In my memory, I could see Carole fighting through the downpour -- the strange, blonde girl who until last night none of us had known at all. I wasn't sure that I knew her either, even now. For a long time, I stared out into the sunshine. The fan of cards lay like a talisman, beckoning me, calling me. I pushed myself up off the sofa and approached the card table. The three remaining candles had burned themselves into the same puddle as the one that stood on Carole's nightstand. Probably a fire hazard, but we were all still alive. The proctor would have had a fit. Carole's clothes lay innocently across her chair, except for her black panties and socks that stood sentinel near the base of where she'd sat. I glanced at the entrance where Alison had disappeared. No naked girl greeted me -- neither Alison nor Claire nor Carole. Gently, I picked up Carole's shirt, bringing it to my face. I inhaled deeply. Oh, it smelled exactly like her. Feminine. Soft. Strong. Vulnerable. Sweet. Musky. And a hint of woodsmoke. Sheepishly, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (33 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


I lay it back on the chair, smoothing the fabric. My eyes turned to the last hand that we'd played. The hand that had lost Carole her clothes, and gained her something that I wasn't sure that I'd ever fully understand. Five cards lying innocently in a fan, placed there by her fingers. I picked up the cards, even while my mind screamed at me to let them lie where she'd put them. Somehow, I knew, even as my eyes widened. Five cards stared up at me while the implications of their configuration suffused my being. The queen of hearts, fully visible, smiled at me, followed in turn by her three sisters. The ace of spades sat lonely on the end, mocking me with its uncomplicated simplicity. Four of a kind. We were four of a kind here, alone but not, this Thanksgiving. I replayed the last hand in my mind. Carole only ever drawing one card -- to an inside straight that wasn't. There wasn't a mistake here. I stared at the five cards for a long time. A natural four of a kind. Impossible. And she'd tossed it on the table as if it were a bluff hand, high to the king. Maybe. I blinked once, my mind wandering from Carole, to Karen, to Claire, to Alison, and back to Carole. Then I gently returned the cards to the table, carefully fanning them as she'd dropped them. I didn't know if she'd want them, or whether she'd even want them delivered by me. Without real thought, I gathered her jeans, her t-shirt, her socks, her panties and her brassiere into my arms. Her scent suffused me, rising from her clothing like perfume. I turned at the door, staring at the five cards that held a secret lying innocently upon the card table. I shook my head, returned to the table and picked up the top card. I placed it face down upon http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Four_Of_A_Kind.html (34 of 35)8/15/2005 12:04:12 AM


the stack of her clothes, smiling. Then I returned to the hallway, and headed back towards her room.


© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon All rights reserved This site and its content are protected by copyright statutes. Please enjoy the stories here freely, but permission in writing is required from the author to redistribute any of the contents or parts thereof under all circumstances. The author may be contacted via e-mail at dcrimson@yahoo. com if you wish to repost, or redistribute, the stories contained herein.

You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Love Unexpected - Crimson Dragon

Love Unexpected © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Love Unexpected (FF) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - July 2002 Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) All Rights Reserved ======================================================================== Sometimes love finds us in the strangest places -- the ring of a telephone, the smoky haze of a neighbourhood pub, the kiss of stocking toes light and sensuous below a table, rising and teasing. Love is undeniable, rushing onwards, like a proverbial irresistible force striking an immovable object, shuddering, insistent. It comes, unbidden, and unthinking, claiming us and propelling us, crying out to be experienced, as if it were a lonely beast, awakened by the ring, the haze, or the touch. And sometimes, love finds us, like a soft kiss, or a gentle caress, hidden in the delicate curve of the forbidden, where we are most afraid to peer. I watched them all scurrying like ants, moving to and fro, hailing http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (1 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


cabs, jumping into them, and moving away, drones to the queen. The fluorescent lights behind me hummed softly, banishing the dimness, silhouetting me against the tall panes of glass. If one might hover, sixty metres above the concrete, the taxis, the glowing taillights of the city street below, one might have seen me as I am, naked while wearing my clothes, a shadow in stark contrast to the lights behind, fingertips pressed placidly against artificially cooled glass. I sighed, and turned away, towards the large desk that dominated the office. I sat, the leather seat moulding to me, hugging my hips, almost embracing me, creaking. Shifting some papers, I piled them neatly to the side. I didn't want to look at them -- they'd still be here on Monday, waiting for me. Perhaps, I might trespass here on Sunday -- not because I wanted to, or out of any sense of misplaced corporate loyalty, but because I simply had no place else that demanded my attention. I leaned back in the chair, interlacing my hands behind my neck, closing my eyes. The luminescence of the fluorescents retracted behind my closed eyes, only their soft hum permeating my world. It was better this way. Alone, not depending on anyone. Nobody to hurt. Nobody to hurt me. I sighed, straightening and opening my eyes. My breasts rose and fell, as they always did, underneath my clothing. There wasn't any real advantage to going home, but I pushed myself to my feet, stepping out and sliding the chair under the desk. The shoes were new, and my heel complained at the pressure, perhaps a blister forming. I shrugged and paused with my hand on the knob to my office. A quick fantasy caught my breath, a anonymous, opened the door under my tearing off my clothes, clearing my arms, pens and papers littering the

janitor, nondescript and hand, taking me wordlessly, desk with a sweep of his muscled floor under my naked feet.

I smiled, even as I shivered. Only a fantasy. My nipples throbbed for a moment, then settled. I opened the door, the gentle hum of a floor polisher tickling my ears. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (2 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


At home, there was a warm bath, and mindless sitcoms. A TV dinner, steaming and tasteless, propped on a tray. I stepped out into the hallway, flicking off the lights as I did. The gap, ever narrowing as my hand guided the door closed, halted as the telephone on my desk began to ring. "Jake, no. Not tonight," I said into the phone. The coiled ringlets that formed the handset's tether descended from my hand like a serpent. "You haven't even met him," Jake said, his voice insistent and as whiny as I remembered it. "I know you haven't been seeing anyone, and I feel bad." He didn't feel bad, but that was Jake. I shrugged, knowing that he couldn't see me sitting in the dark, miles away across copper wires. "Is he anything like you?" "What's the right answer?" I could sense the smirk on his didn't want to see Jake. Couldn't. Not now. I leaned back chair, envisioning the receiver lying in its home. But he back, even if I hung up on him, insistent and hurt. And I answer it, because I wouldn't be able to let it ring.

face. I in the would call would

I sighed. "Jake, I'm seeing someone, now." I wasn't, but it made him pause. There was silence on his end of the phone, and it made me shiver. But the victory was short-lived, as I knew it would be. "Your fingers don't count," he said slowly. A flush rose up into my face, and I didn't reply to that? It was the naked truth, and always did. Men like Jake always seemed to was how they managed to be successful, how

reply. What was there to he somehow knew it, as he be able to read women; it he'd managed with me.

"Just meet him. If you don't like him, nothing lost. You get a dinner out of it. Has to be better than those TV dinners that you

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (3 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


were going home to. We're meeting there in twenty minutes. The Fox and the Hound. It's only downstairs for you." "Jake ..." He cleared his throat. "Alyssa, come on." This was the closest I'd ever heard him to begging. "We need a fourth, I wouldn't ask, but I've already invited him." "What's his name?" "Michael." "Who blew you off?" There was silence again, and he cleared his throat. It was all I needed to know. I hadn't been his first choice, but I hadn't really expected it. He didn't answer me, and I swallowed, stung somehow. "Is this Michael a leper?" He laughed, the old Jake re-emerging as I let him off the hook. I hated myself for even considering it, but Jake did have a point. TV dinners sucked. "He looks like me." That wasn't appealing either, but I didn't say so. Instead, I twisted and turned towards the plates of glass, back towards the city. I had the crazy urge to close the door, lock it, and strip, here and now, stand naked against the glass watching the anonymous people far below. "Jake, what happened to us?" He sighed. "Alyssa? Do you really want to go into this? It's been a year. You need to move on." I could close my eyes and see myself, naked, riding him, feeling him inside me, the climax approaching hard and fast. Jake.



I shook myself, and opened my eyes. Taillights flickered below -- a sea of red. "Alyssa? You still there?" His voice floated from the receiver, a distant grounding to reality. I nodded, even though I knew that he couldn't see me. "I'll be there." "Thank-you," he said easily as if there had never been any doubt of my eventual agreement. There was a click on the line, and then the constant drone of the dial tone. Slowly, I returned the handset to the base, watching as the red dot indicating a live line winked out. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet. Damned if I was going to worry about prettying myself up for Michael. I stepped out into the hallway. The janitor looked up from the machine he was pushing, the polishing pads humming along the tiles. He tipped his head towards me, and I returned the smile, ducking my head to hide the flush that I knew would rise if I watched him any more than I should. Perhaps, tonight wouldn't be as bad as all that. I wasn't expecting anything, even if Fate was rushing towards me with the force of a locomotive. I peered at myself in the mirror. Tired? Perhaps. My eyes held that haunted look that one seems to acquire when one spends too much time by herself. I touched up my make-up, despite my promise to myself to damn the torpedoes of Michael, and I brushed out my hair. My legs were encased in stockings, itching. Perhaps, a little risque for the office, not quite risque enough for a date. Not a date, I reminded myself. But it was, even if Jake had set it up, the first time out in a long time. My heart pattered under my clothes, but I



wasn't expecting anything. Jake was involved, after all. I gazed at my image for a moment longer, smoothing my skirt with my hands. The suit was slightly wrinkled from the office. C'est la vie. Presentable, if not beautiful. I pushed open the ladies room door, stepping out into the gleaming hallway. The janitor seemed to be everywhere, and for a crazy moment, I thought that he might be stalking me, had tuned into my crazy fantasy somehow, and wanted to get to know me better. A lot better. Sometimes, I'm more vain than I give myself credit for, even in the face of obvious facts. He was older, perhaps seventy, and he was far from the muscled presence that swept my desk clean, me naked upon it. He smiled at me, and tipped his head. He switched off the polisher -- a courtesy that set my nerves to jangling. "A fine night to fall in love," he said. I looked at him quizzically, but my unease settled. He didn't look like the raping or stalking type. "Do I know you?" "Does a knight know the dragon?" Puzzled, I laughed almost uneasily. The janitor smiled, and raised his hand. "Have a nice weekend, Miss Jones," he said. I nearly corrected him. My surname wasn't Jones, never had been. I didn't understand the reference, and I'm not sure that he did either. But perhaps he did. Dragons have a way of seeing knights that the rest of us can't. "And you as well," I murmured, turning away. The polisher wound up with a sound similar to a motorcycle speeding off into the distance, the pitch rising behind me as I walked to the elevator shaking my head. Smoky haze filled the pub, raucous laughter surrounding me. I swept http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (6 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


my eyes over the crowd, most of whom seemed self-absorbed in conversation, or watched the latest soccer match on the wide screen televisions mounted about the central bar. I glanced at my watch, surprised. Fifteen minutes late. I shrugged. They either would have waited for me, or not. It didn't matter. "Can I help you miss? Table for one?" Startled, I turned my gaze to the hostess, a girl in a white blouse, shorter than I, perhaps only recently out of high school. "I'm meeting people here, but I don't see them." Her eyes appraised me, and suddenly I felt a little uncomfortable. Then the girl smiled, and said, "You must be Alyssa. You're taller than he said." I swallowed, confused. Nevertheless, I followed her, twisting through the haze, and avoiding tables filled with strange accents, and pints of lager. At a booth, near the back, she swept her arm, like a courtesan introducing a queen. They sat in the booth, none of them smoking, but surrounded in the haze like fog. The smoke stung my eyes, but I blinked, and tried to smile. The hostess disappeared, and I barely noticed. I slipped into the only available seat, crossing my legs under the table. Jake looked up, relieved, as I wiggled to make myself more comfortable. "Alyssa, you made it." I nodded, then glanced to my left. A large man, not fat, but muscular, sat beside me, a gentle smile upon his face. With a start, I realised that this man could have fit my mental picture of the original janitor, unlike the true elderly dragon that had stalked me upstairs, and very unlike Jake. I twisted my head. The girl next to Jake was slender, her brunette hair in a simple ponytail, her hands cupping a glass of wine that seemed out of place in this establishment. The men sipped at their beers, the golden liquid refracting the light, muddy water in a stein. She stuck out her hand, casting a glance at Jake.



"Alyssa, I'm Cameron, and that's Michael beside you. Jake's being rude tonight." She took my hand, the momentary contact warm and inviting. Cameron almost seemed bored with the table. As she released my hand, I turned towards the other presence on my side of the table, extending my hand. He took it, almost crushing my fingers in his grip. I must have grimaced, because he smiled and eased up the pressure. Then, before I could react, he raised my hand, and pressed his lips to the back, my skin tingling. I nearly pulled my hand back in surprise. "Charmed, Alyssa," he said, his lips grave in his politeness. Cameron laughed, and tossed a pretzel at Michael. "You're such a goddamn phony," she said. I shivered. It hadn't felt phony -- but rather almost chivalrous. Michael merely smiled, and turned back to Jake, his hands again animated in talk, dismissing me lightly. I wondered if he was aware that I was supposed to be his date. It didn't matter. Despite his resemblance to fantasy, I couldn't say that the reality of him struck any immediate chords within me, chivalry notwithstanding. The waitress came, and I ordered a white wine, joining Cameron in her flaunt of the obviously lager oriented establishment. The waitress, a petite blonde girl in uncomfortable looking high heels, and a low cut blouse, raised her eyebrows, but scurried off to get my order. The guys continued some inane argument about Italian football players. I glanced at Cameron, and she rolled her eyes. I pointed at Jake. "You're seeing Jake, now?" Cameron smiled, as if she was aware of our history. She probably was -- Jake would have had to tell her. "Nothing serious," she said lightly. "A few laughs." I sighed, and hesitated. "It's okay, Cameron, it was years ago." A bit of a lie, but a year was as good as three, wasn't it? She smiled, and leaned forward, cupping her lips away from the guys. She could have screamed, and I doubt if they would have heard her.



"We've only been hanging out for a few weeks." She hesitated, gauging me, perhaps trying to determine how she stacked up against me. It's what women do. I couldn't have been more wrong. "You want to know if I've fucked him, yet." With a start, I leaned back away from her. I wanted to swing my legs out, and run from this pub, away from the smoke, away from the haze, away from Jake. TV dinners weren't worth this. My wine arrived, and I drank half the glass without pausing. Cameron raised her eyebrows, but the guys didn't even come close to noticing. She smiled kindly, waving dismissively. She motioned me back down, and against my better judgement, I leaned forward, my chin cupped in my hands. The sweetness of the wine battled with the haze of smoke. "I'm sorry, Alyssa. I didn't mean anything by it." But she'd been right. I did want to know. Why? I don't know. It wasn't as if I harboured feelings for Jake any longer. The thought of him with another woman didn't really bother me. He was free to do with his life as he always did. Romance 'em and leave 'em. It was Jake. I wanted to warn this girl, but somehow, I didn't think she needed warning. Cameron smiled, her lips only centimetres from mine. "I haven't," she said. I swallowed heavily. I wanted to ask her why not, but she answered without my having to open my mouth. "I'm not sure he's my type," she said. I sighed, and looked at Michael. The big man was talking animatedly, his hands waving, his words indistinguishable. I tried to picture him sweeping my desk contents to the floor, lifting me onto the desk. I sighed; I didn't think he was my type either. I shivered, carefully cutting my greens. For some reason, ever since I'd been small, I always ate the broccoli first, perhaps, to get it out of the way so I could enjoy the rest of the meal. The knife slipped and screeched across my plate, and I looked up, cringing.



And suddenly it was there, light and whispery, like a butterfly. Jake's head was down, savagely cutting at his steak. Michael, beside me, couldn't have done it. I glared at Jake for a moment, then returned to my task. The bitter taste of the broccoli kissed my tongue, but I ate it, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully. The stupid part about it was that it was sexy in a strange way, kindling reaction in all the right places. It was public, and it was naughty, and it was deliciously secret. But what about Cameron, Jakey? Don't make me a part of this. I glanced down, and adjusted my napkin upon my lap. My skirt ruffled over the nylons I wore. I sighed, and returned to the broccoli. I tried to ignore the touch, but it rose insistently up my leg, beginning at my ankle where the straps of my shoe held it to my foot, and billowing like a sail up my calf to tickle near my knee. I glanced up again, and Jake seemed absorbed in his steak, spreading sour cream on to its red surface. That's one thing I'd always remember about Jake -- not the love-making, not the midnight fights, but that he ate his steak rare, and enjoyed sour cream with it. Strange. I'd tried it once, at his insistence, and nearly gagged. "Jake," I hissed. The touch under the table pulled away, but instead of feeling relieved at the removal, I felt empty. I didn't want him, but the touch sent shivers up my spine. Pure frustration, I'm sure. In the very least, it wasn't fair. Teasing me. Jake looked up quizzically, and I shot him a look that I hoped was clear enough. Stop. Even Michael looked over at me, and shrugged, returning to his porterhouse. Jake shrugged as well, giving me a truly puzzled look, almost one of those 'crazy-female' gazes. He bent back to his plate, and I sighed, deciding to leave the broccoli for later. Shivers shot up my spine, igniting things that I wasn't sure I wanted ignited. It began as almost a kiss, and the touch lightly traced up my leg again. I struggled to ignore it, hoping that he'd desist if I didn't react, but his foot rose slowly and sensuously up my leg, even slightly higher this time, actually touching my thigh. I pressed my legs together, and his foot remained, stymied there. He http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (10 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


made no attempt to go further, not that he could have reached much further, but he didn't pull back, either. I thought that he would pull his foot back as I lowered my hand. Perhaps he was teasing me, allowing me to get close, then pull back as he sensed my fingers. But I'd see him move, then, betraying him, the game over. It was a game. Though, I didn't understand until later the nature of it. My eyes widened as my fingers touched the toes trapped between my thighs. It took a moment for the magnitude of the tactile sensations to fill my mind. Nylon around the toes, smaller and daintier than Jake's could possibly be. Somehow, my mind bent from the obvious, and I regarded Michael. Of course, he couldn't possibly be playing this game, seated as he was. Even if he was double jointed, and even if he could have owned the toes that I touched, however unlikely, my mind couldn't reconcile his involvement. I didn't want it to be him, anyway. Nor Jake. What I realised were distinctly feminine toes retreated from me, and I shivered, bringing my fingers back above the table, knocking my plate as I did. I refused to raise my eyes. Couldn't face her. I blindly reached for my wine glass, the broccoli mocking me. The glass appeared in my hand, Cameron placing it there gently. In my peripheral vision I could see her fingers wrapped easily around the stem of my wine glass. The taste of the wine filled my mouth, intoxicating and sweet. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice only loud enough for me to hear. I nodded mutely, and glanced over the side of the booth to the tiled floor, sunken below where we ate. A single shoe, white with straps that should have been around her ankle, fell from beneath the table, lying like a beached minnow, mocking me. I caught my breath, the implications of the shoe, and whose it was, flooding into me. She probably kicked it, to ensure that I understood.



Cameron leaned down, a flash of the white of her chest above her buttons enough to make me raise my eyes, her fingers reaching for the shoe. Jake looked up as I reached again for my wine. He smiled, and shrugged, as if he knew what was going on. He couldn't, and I knew that, but suddenly I felt sympathy for him. I don't know why. Perhaps, because he'd met Cameron first, even if he was a womaniser, and I'd been one of his victims, but he'd expected something from her that he wasn't likely to get. I'd talk to him later. Maybe. If I wasn't too embarrassed. I nearly looked directly across the table, where I was sure that Cameron was watching me. Instead, I let my eyes travel down the tablecloth, back to my vegetables. Carefully, I sipped from the wine glass, the last of the fruity flavour washing my senses. I shivered. I tried to push the thoughts from my mind, but I couldn't; they refused to release me, even when I threatened them. I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself, but I was anticipating that silky touch of soft toes beneath the table. I wasn't likely to get it, unless I gave her a sign, but that, I knew, I could never do. Not even if Jake and Michael weren't sitting there, ready to judge me. Her toes touched me again, hesitantly, like a first love, exploring, kissing, full of dread and anticipation. I closed my eyes, drinking in the sensations of her, wondering what the hell I was doing, but enjoying the soft tingling. Her foot rose slowly, kissing my skin, nylon on nylon, slipping and teasing. I struggled not to move my leg, as one might when being tickled mercilessly, but this didn't tickle. Not at all. I sighed, refusing to raise my eyes, enjoying every touch, every nuance of her. I thought that I could detect her scent, a light perfume, the kind I knew that Jake liked, floating above the stink of the cigarettes. What if someone saw? There was no skirt on the table, no falling tablecloth hanging low, and we were raised in a booth. A waitress, another patron? When she reached my knee, I finally raised my eyes. As I expected, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (12 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


she was watching me, a faint smile upon her lips. It was dim in the pub, and it seemed overly surreal with Jake and Michael eating obliviously beside me, and her nyloned toes so lightly kissing my knee beneath. A raucous roar of approval rose from the other side of the pub, a goal perhaps, or a badly timed penalty. Would they be turned on if they knew? They were guys. Probably -- even Jake -especially Jake. I shivered, and held her eyes. After a moment, I swallowed, and tilted my head to the side. Slowly, ever so slowly, I eased my legs apart. Inviting. Perhaps she knew, perhaps not. Either way, I thought that I was going to embarrass myself, an inadvertent moan, a groan, something that I might have done with Jake in an earlier life, in the privacy of our bed. Her toes continued to kiss me, and we stared at each other, her eyes sparkling with mischief, mine probably shining with anxiety, or simple tears. Sometimes I cry with lovers. They generally don't understand, but I think that Cameron might have -- at least that night, I suspect that she did. She nodded slightly, and her toes brushed past the tops of my nylons, under my skirt. I glanced down, and my napkin bounced once, as if there were a living creature underneath. I was insanely glad that Michael wasn't looking into my lap. I glanced over at him, unable to summon up any sort of image with him in it naked. The fantasy kept shifting, more feminine curves gracing the participants in my mind. I shivered, my eyes widening as her toes brushed my external lips through my panties. I must have gasped, because she smiled for only a moment, then she glanced quickly at Jake, and then at Michael before her teasing disappeared from between my legs. Weak, I closed my eyes, and then opened them again. I tried to concentrate on my food, but there was no taste there, seemingly leeched by more intense sensations. My breasts ached, and my legs trembled. I tried to catch Cameron's eyes, but she appeared to have contented herself with joining in with Jake. I couldn't understand their conversation, and continued



to eat. Michael tried to engage me in conversation, having lost Jake's spiralling soccer arguments. Even after the waitress had cleared our plates, and offered after-dinner drinks, I couldn't concentrate, only smiling at his words in all the right places. He could have been asking me if I enjoyed kinky sex, or romping around naked in Queen's Park, and I wouldn't have known any different. I nodded and smiled, and he seemed satisfied with my responses. My mind drifted. I leaned back my head, and breathed in the heavy haze that surrounded me. Sensing movement across from me, I opened my eyes with a start. Perhaps, I'd dozed, but in the atmosphere and noise of the pub, I couldn't see how. Perhaps, the wine. Cameron had pushed herself from her seat. I glanced down. White shoes encased both her feet, dark nylons enhancing her limbs and toes. "Going home?" I said, perhaps too quickly. I prepared myself to rise with her. She leaned in, her breath sweet against my ear. "Just going to the little girls' room," she said, her voice airy. I relaxed, and settled back into the booth. Jake looked at me strangely, but I ignored him. Perhaps, I was being unsociable, but so were the conversations of Italian soccer moments, which seemed to revive with Cameron's departure. I think I might have dozed again, the buzz of conversation surrounding me like a shroud. "... too much to drink ..." I opened my eyes with a start. I pushed myself up, embarrassed and concerned. My head had been leaning against Michael's shoulder and Jake was watching me with undisguised mirth. "Wine makes me sleepy," I mumbled, and Michael laughed. While I might have consumed my wine a tad quickly, I wasn't drunk by any stretch of the imagination. I almost wished that I was. "Quite all right," Michael said, his voice mild. "I don't mind women falling asleep on me." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (14 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


"Was I out long?" Jake shook his head. Cameron's seat stood empty beside him. "Where'd she go?" I asked, sure that my interest would be interpreted correctly, branding me. Jake shrugged, unconcerned about the question. Apparently, I hadn't slept on Michael for very long. "She's only been gone for a few minutes. Maybe to the bar? Maybe to the can?" He laughed. "I'm not her keeper." No. I didn't suppose he was. Especially, not now. I sighed, and straightened myself. I felt like I'd been awakened from a deep sleep, groggy, drugged. But I wasn't. I was tired, but not enough to warrant my behaviour. I felt like a school girl, working up the nerve to accept a first kiss, exhausted by the anxiety, the mental push. My body sang, alive and sensitive. My nipples throbbed in time with my pulse. My heart sped up a little as Cameron rounded the corner, mischief again in her eyes. She talked to one table as she seemed to float closer, glancing at her watch. Only the time. She flashed me a smile and slipped into the booth, her left hand at her side, her right upon the table, toying with her wine glass. She didn't look any different, though I'm not sure why I supposed that she should. Cameron flashed me another smile and glanced at the boys. They were ignoring us, fighting about Brazil and Italia animatedly. "Here," she said mischievously. I raised my eyebrows, but accepted the folds of cloth that she handed me across the table. In the dim light, it seemed like the fabric was pale hued, like her blouse. Was I imagining it, or were there more buttons undone at her throat than when she'd left? I turned my eyes away, and glanced down at my hand. The unmistakable delicateness of a bra lay across my hand, still



warm from her body. I nearly dropped it in surprise, my sudden movement attracting Jake's attention. I slipped the bra down beside me, tucking it under my thigh. "What's that?" Jake asked. I flushed and shook my head quickly, shrugging. What's what? He cast me a sidelong glance that encompassed more than simple curiosity. He didn't know what I held under my thigh, but he didn't care. It had only been an attempt to draw me into conversation. He did care that I wasn't making an effort with Michael. On the other hand, he wasn't about to push the issue, perhaps realising that he and his soccer were half the problem. I swallowed, and turned my attention back to Cameron, as Jake turned back to his soccer dissertation. My eyes fell to Cameron's chest, feeling like a guy, stealing a look, groping her with my eyes. I couldn't tell if she was actually braless. For that matter, I'm not sure I would have known if she had been wearing a bra previously, either. Whatever the case, whether I had her bra under my thigh or not, she didn't really need one. I inhaled sharply, realising where my eyes were resting, and raised my eyes to her face. She smiled easily, her eyes laughing. I leaned in conspiratorially. "Cameron, where ..." She smiled. "The bathroom. It's not difficult. You've taken a million of them off over your lifetime." "Maybe not a million." She shrugged and gathered in her breath. After a while, she glanced at Jake, and then back at me. "I don't need it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But if you want to return it, I'm staying at the Westin, room 902." I swallowed and nodded, though at the time I wasn't sure what she was telling me. I should have. I had her bra tucked under my thigh, still warm from her. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (16 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


With that, she pushed herself up and stretched. She reminded me of a cat, stretching in the sun. I fancied that I might be able to see her breast, under her clothing, pressing sensuously against her blouse, the bump of an otherwise uncovered nipple. She rubbed her eyes once. "Gotta get some sleep, Jakey," she announced. He looked up at her, a whisper of annoyance flashing across his face. Irritated, he pushed himself up to join her, and a flash of jealousy stole across me. I didn't understand it, but it was there, green and intolerable. Cameron winked at me, and relief washed through me. She'd come with him, and she'd leave with him, but tonight wouldn't end with a Jake conquest. The envy slowly seeped into sympathy, again. "Will you be all right?" Jake asked. At first, his words seemed foreign, without sense, but I nodded. "I'll take a taxi home. Don't worry about me." He flashed me a disappointed look, one of those: I-try-but-Ican't-help-a-girl-that-refuses-to-help-herself looks. He wanted me to go home with Michael, probably an ill-fated attempt to force me onwards with my life. In a way, I suppose, it was Jake's way of being kind. I shrugged. "Don't let Michael take advantage of you," he said, ironically. "I won't." I watched them walk hand in hand towards the front of the pub, and disappear into the haze. My eyes stung, and I rubbed at them. Michael mistook the gesture for tiredness. "You want to go to bed?" he asked gently. I turned, eyebrows raised, and he laughed. "Not with me. Relax." I nodded. I was tired. I nearly forgot to pick up her bra as I slid out of the booth, but before Michael could pick it up and realise what it was, I palmed



it, and held it easily at my side. The night remained hot, the heat of the day floating in the dark air, rising from superheated concrete and steel. While the fresh air felt like heaven, the humidity stuck my blouse to my skin almost immediately. I picked at the cloth absently. We stood awkwardly on the curb. Traffic flowed by, taillights glowing in the darkness. A thumping bass beat issued from the Crocodile Rock across the street, drunken patrons stumbling out, the line stretching seemingly forever to get in. "I had a good time tonight," I said glibly. "No, you didn't," he said, but his lips still formed an easy smile. "I wasn't much company." I shrugged. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I had the uncanny feeling that I'd gained, while Jakey had lost. Perhaps, Michael had lost too, somehow. "Can I get you a taxi?" he asked. No offer to join me. No offer for a night-cap. Not even coffee, in a neutral Starbucks, a last attempt to find solace. I was thankful; I didn't fancy refusing him, if he had asked, though I would have. Only an offer to provide a ride home, safe and serene, and alone. I shook my head. "I think I'm going to walk." He looked concerned for a moment. "I should walk you," he said. But he glanced at his watch, almost surreptitiously. I didn't mind. I wanted to be alone anyway. The city was safe enough, unlike its American counterparts. A girl could get hurt, but it was unlikely. Not around here. Night sounds surrounded us. A drunken party of four hung off each other, stumbling from the pub behind us. "Pretty lady ..." one oaf sang out as they passed. But other than that, they ignored the two of us. I smiled and waved. "I'll be fine, Michael. I'm a big girl."



Awkwardly, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. What would I do if he tried to kiss me? He didn't, but touched my shoulder. "Alyssa?" "Mmmmhmmmm?" "We're different people. I like you, but ... to be honest, you're not really my type." We hadn't spoken much in the pub, a physical awkwardness between us. He didn't like the way I looked. I didn't know why, but it didn't really matter. I wasn't that insecure. It happened. "It's okay, Michael. You're not really my type either." Cameron is. The thought jolted me. He smiled, a weak smile. "Are you sure I can't get you a taxi?" I shook my head. The night air felt clinging and wet. He nodded, a regretful expression gracing his face. "Good night, Alyssa." "Good-bye," I said easily. I watched him walk up the street and turn left at the lights. Normally, I would have felt a passing regret. Instead, I held up the cloth that pressed between my fingers. Under the street light, it almost glowed, warm and inviting. I closed my eyes. It had been around her. Around her, pressed to her body. I turned in the opposite direction to that taken by Michael, and like a ghost, I began to walk without destination.



I stood in front of the eternal flame, commemorating, as the plaque stated, the lives of fire-fighters lost in the line of duty. Their lives were as distant to me as Michael's, insubstantial and waifish. I felt selfish, but I stood and sighed, trying to make sense of it all. It wasn't only the fire-fighters. I hadn't been close to anyone but Jake in a long, long time, and well, Jake was a bit of a joke. I told myself I didn't mind, that he didn't love any of the extra tail that he sought. It didn't matter. But of course, it did. In some ways I missed him, in others I didn't. I leaned on the protective rail, wondering if it was there to protect the flame, or to protect idiots from getting burned. I wanted a protective rail around my life. Slowly, I turned away, almost surprised that Cameron's undergarment remained gently pressed between my fingers. I stared up at the tower, silhouetted by the rising moon. Wispy clouds scattered the moonlight like a shroud. I didn't know what I wanted anymore. I had no idea how I arrived there, or why I was there. Across the street, men in red uniforms helped the occasional limousine and taxi with clients and luggage. I sat on a bench debating with myself, legs crossing and uncrossing, the feeling not unlike her nyloned toes teasing my calf. I glanced up. Ninth floor. I counted carefully, each window division ticked off in my mind until I reached nine. None of the windows were lit, all dark as if warding away unwanted guests. I raised the cloth to my face, and inhaled through my nose. The scent of smoke was strong, as it likely was even into my own skin and clothing. But there was something underneath, the scent of honey and clover and perfume; Cameron. I sighed and pushed myself up. Rivulets of perspiration ran down my back under my blouse. I'd undone the top three buttons, aware of how http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (20 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


low the fabric flapped, but not caring. There was little traffic at this time of night, and I crossed against the lights, almost jogging across the cross walk. The revolving door admitted me, sighing as it spun. I considered simply walking around, allowing it to spit me back out into the heat. I could go home, and never return. For all I knew, she'd only be here one night -- perhaps the room originally meant for a different night, with Jake. I blinked in the sudden light. There were three men sitting in the lobby, one reading while the other two played cards. They looked up at my entrance, but then lowered their eyes back to whatever they were doing before I'd intruded. Their eyes, though, had all said the same thing to me. What was this lonely girl doing here? Even if they'd asked out loud, I wouldn't have been able to answer them. But, of course, their eyes had said no such thing, only mild interest at yet another anonymous entrance of the night. I sighed, and walked towards the elevator banks. I hesitated at the door. 902. What if she were playing a game with me, giving me a random room, my knock disturbing the peaceful sleep of a nun and a priest, celibacy screaming out at me as the nun answered the door rubbing her eyes? I swallowed heavily, and raised my hand, knuckles ready. I couldn't do it. My hand lowered to my side again. I felt self-conscious here, alone in the hallway. I could feel a thousand eyes upon me, watching me through the inverted telescopes in the doors. A thousand eyes accusing me of what I was about to do. If she were here. 902. Westin. If I wanted to return it. The fabric hung limply from my left hand at my side, brushing at my leg. My nylon stockings itched, and I wanted to take them off. Reach the other side of the door, and I could. I had to knock first.



What if Jake was there? Had orchestrated a little menage a trois? Would I step in? Would I accept it, simply to touch her? I didn't know. What if Michael was there? It struck me that what was behind the door, even if it was only Cameron, was a mystery. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why me? I sighed, and turned away. My feet whispered across the carpet, leading me inexorably towards the elevator. When the doors slid open, I stepped back, away from the car. Inside, a nun, wearing only her headcloak, and a normal shirt and blue jeans, and a priest, wearing white about his throat, both looking tired, gestured to me to join them. I shook my head, backing away from the yawning opening. Stupidly, I didn't understand. How could the nun and the priest be in 902, if they were in the elevator? It didn't make sense, and I knew somewhere in my mind that it shouldn't. "Sorry," I mumbled. The elevator doors closed with a rumble and a snick, their puzzled faces disappearing through the narrowing gap. The beast that was the elevator descended, its growl receding into the depths of the building. I didn't know how I had travelled back, must have walked, but I faced the door again. It mocked me silently. Somewhere, up the hallway, someone coughed, the sound heavily muted by the intervening doors. "I don't need it, but if you want to return it ..." 902. Westin. I closed my eyes, and without further thought, let my hand fall, a single rap echoing up and down the corridor. A thousand accusing http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (22 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


eyes burned into my back. Cameron smiled as the door opened. Her hair tumbled free of the ponytail, falling in damp waves about her shoulders. A red towel wrapped her from breasts to thighs, her pale skin inviting and alluring. Her feet were bare upon the worn carpet. She ran her fingers through her hair, and her face looked almost apologetic, though for what, I had no idea. She stepped nun and the A step into bridge back

back, and gestured me in. I hesitated, thinking of the priest, but then crossed into the dimness of the room. another world, one that I wasn't sure that there was a from.

The door closed gently behind me. "I'm glad you came," Cameron whispered. I forced a smile onto my face, and held up her bra like it was a talisman. She grinned, and touched my fingers. "You hold onto it, for now," she said easily. I closed my hand around it again, and listened. A drip from the shower dropped in a rhythmic monotony. The cheap television remained silent. No other breathing permeated the air. She was alone here, that much I could tell. The scenarios of menage a trois flitted from my mind as smoke does before a wind. Her lips looked puzzled. "Are you okay?" she asked. I tried to smile, and I nodded slowly. "Better than in a long time," I said. She smiled, radiant and pure, pleased. "I have to dry my hair. A few minutes earlier, and I wouldn't have heard you, water running into my ears. A few minutes later, and the hair drier."



Fate. I nodded, and bent to unlace my shoes. When I rose, she had moved into the small hotel bathroom. I could see flashes of her skin and red towel through the narrow gap in the door. She wasn't naked in there, but the flashes of her sent inexplicable tendrils of desire into me. I swallowed, and moved into the room, the carpet slippery and strange under the nylons. The room was dark, only lit by the ambient light from the bathroom on one side, and the lights of the city outside near the windows, filtering between drawn curtains. In the middle of the room, a bed, blankets unruffled, the top sheet the pillows. The television stood was no bag, no luggage. Only her,

a king size playground, sat, the turned down, mints like shadows on darkened upon the dresser. There and me, now.

I moved to the window, where the drapes fluttered, and traffic noise filtered in with the city lights. Someone shouted below, and I jumped a little, nervous. I drew back the drapes. The windows were open, night air shifting around my legs, teasing and heavy. They looked like ants below, scurrying to taxis, alighting, and hunting for their queen. Taillights glowed. I backed away, conscious of the hair drier halting, and silence descending like a blanket. My heart began to race, perspiration again pinning my blouse to my skin. The air conditioning had been turned off, or was broken, the hum from the wall unit silent as if competing with the chaos of the city had beaten its will to live. I ran my fingers over the loose knob. "It's not broken," Cameron whispered behind me. "I just prefer it hot." I turned from watching the silent air conditioner to face her. She moved towards me, like a ghost, her bare feet whispering across the carpet. I wondered where her clothes were -- I hadn't seen them as I moved about the room. No blouse. No whispering nylons. No skirt. Only her bra, still heavy in my right hand. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (24 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


Cameron smiled, and stood beside me, her eyes taking in the city stretched out in front of us, below, like a queen surveying her realm. "Pretty, isn't it?" Her fingers stole to mine, lightly holding my free hand. My palms felt slick with perspiration, but she didn't seem to notice, her fingers intertwined with mine, gossamer, almost insubstantial, and cool. I bit my lip, and watched them below. Her scent rode on the heavy wind, honey and clover, the scent of clean, the scent of her. I breathed her in, pretending to watch the people below. Compared to her, I must have smelled, the stink of cigarettes coating me like a film. Cameron didn't seem to mind, and I hoped that the night walk had eased the unwelcome remnants of the pub. "There," Cameron said softly, pointing. I followed her finger, and smiled. Below, two girls, perhaps college aged, walked, their fingers intertwined in the night, mirroring my own pose. Suddenly self-conscious, I nearly withdrew my fingers from Cameron, but then relaxed. To my surprise, the girls kissed, right there on the sidewalk, their bodies shimmering. Then they parted, and I watched them disappear, turning up a darkened side street. The soft sound of their laugh tickled my ears. I withdrew, my eyes focusing on my reflection, a silhouette edged in glass. Beside me, Cameron had shifted her pose, no longer viewing her realm, looking up at me. I turned from our reflection. Her eyes uplifted to mine, her body trembled -- I could feel it through our linked fingers. She released my hand, and it fell easily to my side, a dead weight. She closed her eyes, and her hands raised to my shoulders, resting there light and cool through my clothes. She raised herself up on her toes, reaching, her lips parted slightly. I hesitated for a moment, not because of her gender, or her desirability, but only the hesitation of emotion, of crossing bridges that cannot be re-crossed. It had been far too long since



anyone had kissed me. And then her lips touched mine, and all the fears, all the hesitations, all the apprehensions melted. Somewhere below, a car honked, and the sound of feminine laughter rose, joining me to the real world somewhere beyond the room. I dimly felt her bra leaving my fingers, fluttering to the floor to lay like a soft reminder against my foot. Cameron's moan joined the shivers racing through my nerves. I sat, leaning back on my hands, the mattress soft and yielding under my palms. She stood in front of me, smiling, her arms held out slightly from her sides. The red towel mocked me, hiding her, teasing me. Suddenly, I was very conscious that she was naked but for that towel, her skin teasingly close. She smiled, and tilted her head. "You want to take this off me, don't you?" she said quietly. I didn't know. Kissing her was sweet, forbidden, and my body tingled in all the right places. I envisioned myself placing a finger, right there, below the hollow of her throat, below where her collarbones merged in a symphony of shadow and light. A quick tug, releasing the easy friction of her covering, and she would be nude, unclothed before me. I swallowed, my right hand twitching. I slowly shook my head, unsure, seeing bridges burning in the night, once crossed, never to be whole again. I shivered. "You do, don't you?" I swallowed again, my heart racing. If not, why had I come here? Slowly, I nodded, my hair whispering through my peripheral vision. "You can, you know," she said softly. An invitation, permission. I paused, but my hand rose as if it had a mind of its own, my fingers reaching. She smiled as my index fingers slipped under the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (26 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


folds of the towel. The towel was still damp, from her skin, from her shower. She shivered, closing her eyes. The towel seemed to swirl about her body, falling under the relentless pull of gravity, pooling about her ankles. She opened her eyes, and smiled. She stood still permitting me time to look at her, inviting and bare. Nothing to hide. I'd only met her, perhaps a few hours ago. I had never been with a woman before, not even in my experimental days at Waterloo. But there she stood, her breasts, her legs, her belly -- her. Naked for me. I shivered. Without a word, she sank to her knees, and thinking that this was moving way too fast, that she was about to bury her head beneath my skirt, I found my voice. "Cameron ..." "Shhhh," she said. Her fingers reminded me of her toes earlier, under a table far away. She teased my leg, no longer clandestine, no longer tentative. Her fingers trailed up my calf, tickling my knee. I gasped, edging my legs apart, inviting her to what? I didn't know. Weightless as a butterfly, she discovered the ridges of the top of my stocking, playing there. My mind filled with the sensations, her fingers, my thigh, trembling. She raised her eyes to mine, questioning. "You wear this to work?" I swallowed, and shrugged. I didn't know what possessed me to wear them today, perhaps fate. I didn't normally. Too risque. "Today," I said simply. She nodded, still on her knees below me, her fingers lightly resting, toying with the tops of my stockings. She edged the stocking down, my leg sighing in relief as the slippery fabric released me from its intimate grasp. First my right, then my left. I'm not sure, but I think she may have used her teeth, too, tugging the fabric over my toes, and I sat there eyes closed, concentrating on the sensations of her. The stockings might be



ruined, torn, shredded. I didn't care. My arms collapsed, and I fell back on the bed, dimly aware that she'd pushed my shoulders gently. "Cameron?" "Mmmmhmmm?" She sat beside me, her weight dimpling the covers. "The rest." "The rest?" "Of my clothes." They seemed tight and restrictive. I wanted to be naked, like she was. She leaned down and kissed me, bending over her crossed legs, her lips airy and soft. "In time, Alyssa. In time." I felt like crying. If asked, I wouldn't be able to explain; it wasn't her gentle denial, but my name spoken upon her lips. She hadn't lied; in time my clothing lay in scattered heaps about the room, my jacket tossed across a chair, my panties lying half on, half off the television, my bra lying like a talisman across the foot of the bed. My bare body trembled. I lay on my back, my hands behind my head, breasts lifted to her, inviting her to touch. She sat easily beside me, her lips crimson, even in the dimness. I gasped, my voice foreign, almost shattering the silence. Her fingers trailed from my right nipple, over my breast, tickling over my tummy, to rest familiarly on my thigh. She stroked there, light and wispy. I couldn't think of anything but her hand there, forbidden, and sweet. "Alyssa?"



I looked up, my eyes blurred. "I don't normally do this." Confused, I continued to watch her. Her breasts rose and fell gently with her breathing. "Seduce my boyfriend's former girlfriends," she whispered, elaborating, almost wistful. "Is he your boyfriend?" She sighed, and shook her head. "I suppose not. Not now." Relaxed a little. "How about anybody's girlfriend?" She smiled and leaned down and kissed me, her fingers still teasing my thigh. Her breath was minty, the smell of toothpaste and ice cream. "Do I ask girls up to my room regularly, instead of the boy that was the original plan?" I didn't say anything. Couldn't. She almost seemed like she was talking to herself. She sat up again. Her fingers paused on me, and then resumed. She shook her head slowly. "No. Hardly ever. It's been a long, long time," she said mistily, as if remembering another time in her life, long ago and far away. It was something I wanted to know, but suspected I might never find out. I shifted a little, but her fingers followed, light upon my skin. I wanted her to move them, a little higher, a little more. I squirmed for a moment, then forced myself to relax. In time, Alyssa. I breathed in, nerves jangling. She might get up and walk away, putting on her towel, perhaps finding her hidden clothing and dressing first. She was expecting something else from me -something I wasn't -- I'd appeared at her door, her bra cradled in my hand, the message different than the reality. I plunged.



"I've never ..." Her fingers left my thigh, and it ached where they'd been. She touched her finger to my lips. "Shhh. I know," she said easily. She didn't rise at the admission, didn't dress, didn't leave me frustrated there. If she had, I would have understood. Instead, only soft words of knowledge fell from her lips. She knew. I didn't understand her; I didn't have to. With that, she lay herself beside me, her skin gentle, and soft, pressing into mine. Her breasts pressed into mine. Her toes damp with perspiration, her calf hot and soft, stroked up my bare skin, teasing me like she had back in the pub. This time, I gasped, unafraid of questioning looks from men that I didn't care about, body alive, begging, and wanting. Her tongue teased me, my hips rocking, finding my rhythm quickly and naturally. I sighed, pushing myself towards her, gasping for air as her fingers plunged into me, stroking. Her other hand rose up, searching, teasing, tickling my nipple. I throbbed to her touch. Blue light rose up in my mind, like a tsunami racing towards the beachhead. My voice cried out. Dimly, I was aware of the sounds from the street below, the ants calling to one another, a horn, out of place. The air clung to me, perspiration finding my brow, trickling down my cheek like tears. As if from a distance, I could hear my own voice, passionate, and loud, crying out as every muscle in my body contracted, my back arching. And still her tongue teased me. "Enough," I gasped. But she didn't stop, and I didn't have the strength to protest more. It took longer the second time, but I crashed into the beach again, the ocean, and Cameron taking me on the journey where blue lights sparkled in my mind. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (30 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


I lay outstretched, and opened my eyes. Her face appeared like a Cheshire cat, smiling and open. Below, her breasts swayed. I wanted to touch her. "Good?" she asked simply. I nodded, unable to speak. My breathing refused to calm, my breasts rising and falling against my ribs, my heart hammering a quick pulse into my ears. She kissed me, and I opened my lips to her. I tasted myself on her, and didn't mind, the musky scent tickling my nose. Without pausing, I pushed myself up on my elbow, finally breaking the kiss. She regarded me, seeing into me, becoming me for a moment. Her breath came in quick bursts, her lips shiny, her eyes damp. She whispered, "Alyssa ..." "I want to taste you," I murmured. She shook her head slowly, a regretful refusal, a politeness that I didn't want. "I'll be okay," she said. "I know," I said. I gently pushed her to the bed, and she didn't resist. Her legs parted a little, and I bent and kissed her nipples, one then the other. Her breathing quickened still further. She tasted sweet, and musky. Her lubrication coated my face. I found her lips, and gently ran my tongue over her soft skin. Her hips rose towards me, rocking, and pushing, her moans echoing about the room. I wondered if the ants had heard us through the open window. Would they care? I doubted it. Another taxi roared away, tires squealing, breaking the easy silence. Somewhere, a siren cried out into the night. I breathed her in, and fixed her pleasure upon my mind, my body becoming one with her, my fingers in her, touching her, intimate and close. My tongue found her clitoris, stroking to her rhythm, so



easily sensed. She paused, her body becoming rigid around me, then pulsing with a cry around my buried fingers. "Oh. God," and she crashed onto the beach, her body begging me, pulling me in. With a smile, I bent my head back to her, even before she completed. I wiggled my fingers in her, soft and yielding. "No, Alyssa," she said, her voice weak. I ignored her, and ran my tongue over her again. She gasped, but gently touched my head, her fingers insubstantial in my hair. I raised my head, peering at her over the bumps of her breasts, my chin resting easily above her pubic lips. She shook her head once, and then lowered it, exhausted. I kissed her once more, fixing her in my memory. She shivered, and waited. My body aching, I raised myself and crawled up the bed. Her arms pulled me in, and I lowered my head to her shoulder, my hair fanning out across her skin. Her skin glossy with moisture, mirroring mine. Her hands stroked my hair. I couldn't remember any lover I'd ever had stroking my hair. I began to say something, something inane, something unnecessary. She touched my lips with one finger and I closed my eyes. Her breathing gently slowed under me. Sleep would not claim me that fast -- sex always causing a rush, my mind spinning. Soon, she was breathing rhythmically under me, her nipples relaxed now in my plane of vision, small hills in silhouette. I smiled, and closed my eyes again, her breathing lulling me. The sharp crack of thunder woke me. It was dark, darker than before, the moonlight invisible. My head still rested upon her shoulder. Carefully, not wanting to wake her, I rose, my bare feet whispering across the carpet to the bathroom. Her clothing lay neatly folded on the counter, a skirt, a white blouse and nylons. No bra. Smiling, I reached for a glass, tossing the paper covering from it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (32 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


into the trash, and drew water from the tap, lifting it to my lips, throat working hungrily. The water seemed to waken me, and another peal of thunder echoed across the city. Humidity hung about me like a damp blanket, heavy and cloying to my bare skin. I glanced at the towels upon the rack, red and white, all with a large 'W' emblazoned on them. I considered wrapping myself with one, suddenly wishing for a strange sense of modesty. It was the humidity that changed my mind, my body unable to accept the touch of anything against my skin. I drew another drink, and carried it out, settling myself into a chair by the window. For a moment, I was aware of my nudity, odd sitting naked in a chair, my breasts visible through the open shades. I reached for the curtains, intending to draw them, hide myself from voyeuristic eyes, but the silliness of it forced a smile to my lips. I sipped at the water and watched the street below where the ants moved slowly, lulled by the lateness, but some glancing up towards the sky, pale faces in the darkness. Without warning, the skies opened, a deluge of water striking the pavement as if Armageddon had arrived, spouting water instead of flames. The world disappeared in a wall of mist and hissing water. The humidity leached from the air like a towel spiralling from naked skin. I watched the rain for a while, then turned. I watched her sleep. After my departure, she had curled herself up on her side, facing the window, her bare breasts peeking between her arms, her cheek cradled on her hands, her legs crossed, her toes bare upon the covers. She murmured something, her leg twitching. I started, almost as if I were nervous, watching her sleep, a voyeur in the dark. Another crack of thunder pealed through the room, shaking it, the lightning having struck the hotel, or perhaps the towers surrounding us. Cameron mumbled, reaching across the bed, fingers grasping air. "It's only thunder. It's only thunder," she whispered. "Raining." She drew her hand back in, and I realised that she had been searching for my warmth beside her. I nearly rose to rejoin her when her eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she gasped, then her eyes settled on me, and she smiled. My hands rose automatically, to shield my nudity, but of course, she wouldn't be offended. Her



fingers had removed my clothing, as surely as mine had released the towel from her. I pushed my hands back to rest on the chair arms, my upper arms brushing lightly at the sides of my breasts. Gentle tingles from my own touch spread through my body. "It's raining," Cameron said. I could feel the rain coating my bare thighs, the wind changing direction, driving the deluge towards our room, through the window to touch me. "Come back to bed," she whispered, her hand reaching. It was in her eyes, not her words, the unspoken meaning -- while we can still be together. I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my breasts. I shook my head; I couldn't let it go. Not that easily. She raised her eyes questioningly. "You won't be here when I wake up, will you?" I said, surprised at my own words. She pursed her lips, and sighed. She didn't answer me, but that was answer enough. I felt tears, hot wetness, fill my eyelids. I didn't want to cry, and somehow, I forced the moisture from my face before it spilled. Big girls don't cry. "Come back to bed," she murmured. "Please?" After a moment, I turned back to the rain, where the world had disappeared. I pushed myself to my bare feet, and pulled the curtains closed, muting the rumble of the water outside. I returned to the bed where Cameron lay. I tilted the glass to her lips, and she drank, her throat swallowing prettily. She shifted herself, returning onto her back, pushing away the glass gently. She seemed about to say something, but I pressed my finger to her lips, perhaps an apology, an expression of different worlds. I misunderstood then, but I thought that I did understand. She wouldn't be the only lover to leave me as the sun greeted the world, before I woke. Only, the first female one. I shivered at her softness. I crawled back into bed beside her, laying my head down again on her shoulder. I'm not sure if she slept after that, but the soft rhythm of her breathing, the pounding of the rain, the clean scent of her, lulled me again, the sandman overtaking me and kissing me to sleep. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/love_unexpected.html (34 of 38)8/15/2005 12:04:31 AM


Cameron was gone when I woke, where she had lain rumpled and still warm from her body. I sighed, fighting the tears. Perhaps, the soft closing of the door behind her had awakened me. I pushed myself up, glancing about the room, hoping that she would be sitting in the chair by the window, hoping to hear the waterfall of the shower. Instead, only silence greeted me, the sound of loneliness and aches. I swung my legs from the bed, and padded to the window. The humidity had broken with the storm, and the air had lost the cloying heaviness that had permeated my skin during our romp in the darkness of early morning. The carpet was wet beneath my feet where the rain had fallen through the open window during the storm. I could still taste her upon my lips, and I ran my tongue over them. My vagina ached, that sensation that one gets after sex the night before, satiated and serene. My throat was dry, my head throbbing a little. Without thought, I pulled open the curtains. She stood, one ant among many, no longer the queen of the realm, abdicating into a common life, her face lifted towards the side of the building, searching for something, someone. Her hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders, her face pale but somehow fresh. I nearly lifted my hand, but didn't, knowing that she couldn't see me from where she stood far below. I didn't care that I was naked; it seemed appropriate somehow. I watched her walk away. I only knew her first name. Perhaps Jake ... but I wouldn't call him. Of that I was certain. What would I say? How could I explain? I couldn't explain even to myself. My body ached, and I finally stepped from the window, self-consciousness invading. I closed the curtains, and lay back down on the bed. Her fingers still teased me, and my breathing quickened with the memories. After a time, I pushed myself up again, unable to sleep.



The falling water reminding me of the rain in the night, cascading over my hair, washing all traces of the evening and morning from my skin. Stale cigarette smoke, and musky beauty swirled down the drain between my bare toes. I think I cried, then, but the tears mixed up with the water, and even I'm not sure that I did. I turned my face up into the spray, gasping at the heat, my skin reddening. Before I stepped from the small enclosure, I twisted the knob, forcing myself to remain under the spray even as it shifted to ice. I heard myself cry out, and my fingers, trembling, flipped the water off. Shivering, I stepped from the shower, grabbing a big red towel from the rack, and huddling it around me. I wiped off the mirror, my image appearing. For a moment, I saw her, instead of me, the towel wrapped about her breasts, standing barefoot motioning me inside, the towel pooling about her ankles. Tears rose, unbidden, and I turned from the mirror, drying myself, keeping my eyes on my own blurred, bare skin. After a while, the tears stopped. As I stepped from the bathroom, I almost expected to hear her soft voice, calling to me. Of course, the hotel room remained lonely and empty, but for me. I gathered up my clothes, laying them neatly on the bed. I stared at them for a while, not wanting to dress, wishing that I could step from the room as only me, exposing myself to the world -- take me as I am. But that would get me arrested, and I didn't feel like explaining to some policeman why I hadn't been wearing any clothes. Instead, I settled on the edge of the bed, playing with the floor with my toes. I saw it lying there, a flash of pale colour against the mottled, colourless, worn carpet near the window. I bent and picked it up, a gentle weight in my hands. I lay it across my knees, staring at it, remembering. Sometimes, love finds us, like a soft kiss, or a gentle caress, hidden in the delicate curve of the forbidden, where we are most afraid to peer.



I pushed myself to my feet, standing naked in front of the room mirror, in a hotel room far outside of where I should have been, Saturday traffic noises wafting up and enveloping me in its familiarity, doors slamming down the corridor beyond my haven as the hotel wakened itself. I lifted her bra, watching myself as I did, touching it to my skin. It was cool, no longer holding her warmth, only a delicate curve kissing me. It would have fit me. Somehow, we were the same size, and shape. Something inside the cup scratched at my nipple, something foreign, unnoticed until it touched the gentle rise of my breast. Still I held it against me, knowing that it had touched her, knowing that it was hers, and she'd left it for me, when she could have taken it. With a sigh, I flipped it away from my chest, touching inside, not looking. A piece of paper, taped to the inside. I didn't know where she might have procured tape, but it didn't matter. Suddenly, I knew. She'd put it there last night, before I stepped across the bridges, before I'd even known that I would knock at her door. She knew, even before I did, perhaps because I didn't know. I didn't want to look, and yet I did. My eyes misted with tears, my heart hammering in my chest. Cameron. Still no surname. And a phone number, seven digits written in a feminine hand. I sat down wearily on the edge of the bed, turning the whiteness of the paper over in my fingers. Gently, I pressed it back into her undergarment, and cradled it in my hands. I sighed, looking out at the city, and beyond, the freshness of the rain tickling my senses through the open window. Because she liked it hot. Sunshine broke through the clouds, bathing the world again in light. Still naked, I closed my eyes, my fingers playing with her cloth. Memories of her fingers, her tongue, her lips, her toes, her skin, flashed through my senses.



Would I call her? I didn't know. She had given me a gift, losing her, and setting me free simply by leaving. The piece of fabric with its message called to me, demanding an answer that I simply didn't know, perhaps of which I was merely afraid. I looked at it, such a simple article, cradled in my fingers, innocent, but not. I still don't know what I'm going to do with her bra.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Innocence - Crimson Dragon

Innocence © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Innocence (rom, light bond) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - July 2002 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Innocence, my ass. I squirmed on the bed, pulling at my trapped hands, my trapped ankles. I wanted to scream, but of course, I couldn't. All I really could do was seethe, and watch the sun slowly set, its rays kissing my bare skin as it slipped, uncaring of my predicament, down my thigh. Eventually, that ray of light would touch my toes, and fall to the bed, then slowly fade away. I turned my eyes to the door, and closed them. No matter how much I wished it, Stacy didn't open it and walk in. I blamed Stacy for this, completely and utterly. Of course, she wasn't entirely to blame. But, I blamed her anyway.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (1 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


It had begun innocently enough, sitting in a nondescript coffee shop. All right, so it had been the Heuther Hotel, girls dancing naked upstairs, pool tables, and locally brewed beer downstairs. I wasn't supposed to know about the strippers upstairs, but everyone did. Down here, amongst the pool tables, the air was smoky and dense, stinging my eyes. It could have been a coffee shop. The guys shot eight ball, the balls clacking, rushing about the table in complex patterns of stripes and solids. Stacy and I had played one game with them, then settled to a stand table, perching on stools. Catching a few stares from other tables, I shrugged and tucked my legs together, hooking my toes over the crossbar of the stool. I tipped my beer, the stronger locally brewed stuff, to my lips. The full taste slipped down my throat like ambrosia. Stacy tossed her head, her blonde curls falling out of her face with a practised motion. "You know what guys really go for, Danielle?" she said, her eyes shiny with mischief. I knew, or at least I thought I did, but I shrugged anyway. A blonde girl tossing her hair out of her eyes without having any idea of how sexy it was, at least to the guys. Things like that. I raised a finger. "Hold that thought," I said. I slipped from the stool and paced over to the jukebox. It had fallen silent a moment earlier, the room now only filled by laughter and the clacking of pool balls. I traced my finger down the list, sighing as I went. Only new dance music, and I'd already taken as much of that as I could. Somewhere on the tenth page, my eyes lit up. My fingers found a loony in my front pocket, and I dropped it into the machine. It sighed as it swallowed the coin. I punched J5, without waiting for the secret mechanism within to engage. The music began, rushing towards my back, pounding through the pool hall. Nobody gave me a dirty look, so I had to assume that the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (2 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


eighties ballad met with some approval. Harlequin sang about Innocence behind me, my body automatically swaying to the music as I returned to Stacy and the guys. Innocence. That's all you ever pleaded. Innocence. And that's all you'll ever plead. Stacy shook her head with a laugh, and leaned in. "That isn't what guys really want, you know." Confused, I stopped dancing in my seat long enough to flash her a puzzled glance. "What isn't? Dancing?" She grinned and I shivered. I knew that grin. Bad news, that grin. "Innocence," she said. I pursed my lips, and slowed my body, reaching for my beer. Rick and James continued to ignore us, shooting the silly balls about the table. Stacy glanced at them, and then grinned again. She pushed herself off her whispered something in his returned to the table, she and she practically pulled tabletop, sloshing.

stool, and walked over to Rick. She ear at which he shrugged. When she held out her hand. Unthinking, I took it, me to my feet. My beer sat lonely on the

"Where are we going?" I asked her. "I told Rick we were going to the ladies room." I shook my head. "I don't need to go."



She grinned again. Damn, that made me nervous. "Neither do I. Come on." Stacy was a bad influence. Whatever she was up to, I was quite sure that my mother, bless her, wouldn't have approved. But of course, Mom wasn't there, and I was a little tipsy already, so with a shrug, and a wave to James who was watching us, I followed Stacy to the stairs. This is where I learned, far too personally, what happened upstairs at the Heuther Hotel. Blindly, I followed Stacy up the stairs, watching my feet on the worn wooden planks, one step behind her. I didn't really look up until we entered a large room, booming bass and more cigarette smoke surrounding me. When I made the mistake of looking away from my feet, I found myself at the back of a long rectangular room, a red stage with a brass pole near one end. Tables and chairs lined the room. It took me a moment to realise that Stacy and I were the only girls in the room. The remainder of the clientele appeared to be dingy, middle aged men, some of whom raised their eyes at our entrance. I flushed, but Stacy pulled me forward towards the bar. I could feel eyes raking in my body. Not the most pleasant sensation in the world. Not the worst either, but close. "Stacy?" She ignored me -- typical -- and I eased up to the bar, taking a stool. "She needs a rum and coke," Stacy glanced at me, a wry look about her lips. "Badly," she added unnecessarily. "And I'll have a vodka straight up." I began to protest, but Stacy waved me away. The bartender raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and poured the drinks. His demeanour wasn't because of the liquor Stacy had ordered, I suspected; it was the fact that we were of the wrong gender for this place. While he was pouring, I felt a subtle shift in the room; the multitude of male http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (4 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


eyes left my back, and turned elsewhere. I slowly spun, my own eyes tall woman strode onto the suit, and oversized tinted eyes off her. Dimly, I was

tracking the men's new distraction. A stage, high heels, stockings, a business glasses. I swallowed, unable to take my aware of Stacy behind me, paying the tab.

We all knew such girls existed -- brave enough to take their clothes off for a bunch of horny men who paid for the privilege -- but how often does someone like me actually witness it? How often does someone like me want to witness it? Suddenly, I was sure that I didn't want to. While I respected the girl for her bravery, I simply didn't want to be here. "Stacy," I said more urgently. She grinned. That damnable grin of hers. "Please," I said, jerking my head towards the entrance -- exit -whatever. Predictably, Stacy ignored me. Instead of stepping towards the door, she laughed and grabbed my hand. Numb, I stumbled and followed her towards the stage. It wouldn't have surprised me if Stacy wanted to join the bleached blonde up on the stage, me included, bumping and grinding to overly loud music. I have no idea why, but I had always envisioned a more subtle show -- a girl with a boa, teasing and shy. Silly me. As we stumbled closer to the stage, I was relieved of my misconceptions. She played a secretary, or a manager, I don't know, but an office worker. She teased, but not much. Her clothes didn't stay on her very long, falling from her like rain, scattered about the small stage, puddles between her high heeled feet. I wondered idly if the girl had worn some sort of tear-away clothing to make her job a little easier. I don't remember her pulling her top over her head, or even pushing her skirt down her legs. But there she stood, bare to the world, only her stockings and her shoes between her and her birthday suit. Odd what one notices when under stress. The girl was shaved. I mean completely shaved. For some reason, it struck me funny. Perhaps it was the drink I had already nearly consumed, or perhaps it was only the picture of myself up there. The girl spread her legs, cupped her ample breasts and the crowd gasped. That seemed even funnier somehow, but sad in another



way. My mind flashed to my mother -- not a good thing to have happen in the middle of one's first experience in a skin show. I flushed for a moment, hesitating. Stacy stopped, and we stood behind the first row of chairs arranged like a fence around the red velvet of the stage. Definitely a bad influence. I couldn't tear my eyes off the girl on stage. She seemed to see me staring at her, and instead of being properly abashed at her nudity, her exposure to the world, she winked at me. I lowered my eyes. "Perverts Row," Stacy whispered in my ear. "What?" "The first row." The fence of chairs around the stage, filled to capacity, featured drooling men staring at the blonde and her antics. Some waved bills in the air towards the girl. She didn't seem ready to accept any of them, twirling slowly around the brass pole, a vacant look now on her face, the novelty glasses discarded with the rest of her clothing. A touch to my arm brought my eyes down. A middle aged man dressed in a tweed suit peered up at me, his eyes a little surprised, and more than a little bloodshot. His teeth were yellow stained, though whether that was due to cigarettes or coffee, or both, I don't know, but it was his eyes that registered a pleased surprise at our presence behind his chair. I suppose, in his place, I might be surprised, too. One wouldn't expect girls to be in this place. Hell, I didn't believe we were there, either, and I was one of the girls in question. The music pounded around us, and the girl above twirled, her nakedness almost normal now to me. I couldn't hear his words, and I bent my ear towards him. Stacy frantically tugged at my fingers, but I ignored her, feeling a vague sense of justice. Let her wait. Bad move. This time, I should have listened to her. "You two care for a leettle menage a trois?" he grinned, his voice slurred enough to remind me where we were standing. His grin seemed far more sinister than Stacy's evil cousin. Surprised, I straightened, shaking my head vigorously, a flush rising to my face. I might be naive, and innocent, but I knew what he was suggesting. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (6 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


Stacy laughed beside me. "What the hell are we doing here?" I whispered in her ear. She motioned towards the dancer, now on her knees crawling about the stage, like an animal. "That's what guys want." "What?" "Whatever the opposite to innocence is." She pursed her lips, her eyes laughing, and we retreated. Suddenly, I was aware of eyes on me again -- perhaps bored with the brutal wantonness onstage. They were probably speculating what I might look like onstage instead of the shaved blonde woman. I shivered. The guys still played pool, a new game, balls galore scattered across the green felt. I sat trembling beside Stacy, and we watched them for a while in silence. The jukebox had fallen back into the mindless dance music that had preceded Harlequin. "You know," Stacy said, almost nonchalantly. "What guys really want?" "Girls dancing naked on a stage. Or two at once," I said thinking of the middle aged creep upstairs, probably still drooling at whatever boob enhanced female was dancing for him now, our presence only a dim memory. Stacy shrugged and glanced at the guys. They weren't paying us any attention, and with the music, I doubted if they could hear us in any case. "What isn't innocent?" she mused. I had a bad feeling that she knew exactly what wasn't innocent. Worse, she was going to tell me. "Strippers?" She shook her head. "Not subtle enough. Anyone can take off her clothes."



Personally, I disagreed, but I didn't say so. I mean, I took mine off every night before I went to bed, but that's hardly the same as parading around a velvet stage with a brass pole in the middle. I watched Stacy for a moment, then I turned away from her. Bad influence. Very bad influence. "No," she said, her voice light and airy. "What?" I asked, knowing better. "No. We need to tie you up or something. That," and she emphasised the word, the grin returning full force, "wouldn't be innocent." See why I blame her? My mother was right. Bad influence, girls like Stacy. Very bad influence. I laughed, a little uneasily. The pleasant buzz from the drinks was fading fast, and I stared at her. "I'm not letting a guy tie me up in bed. Forget it." And it worked out that way, too. I didn't let a guy tie me up in bed. A technicality, I suppose, but for what it's worth, I did manage to keep to my word -- at least in a literal sense. I sighed, wishing that I was in a nice safe, nondescript coffee shop where girls didn't disrobe and crawl around red stages upstairs. It was a lazy Saturday to write. Stacy melted clouds. I gave up, and notebook closed with a

afternoon, and I sat at my small desk trying into my bed, staring out the window at the dropped my pencil to the desk, clapping the snap. Stacy looked up.

That damn grin spread over her face, and I had an awful feeling that I wouldn't be proud of whatever happened next. I was right, as usual. "Let me tie you up," Stacy said, her voice filling the small dorm room. "Excuse me?" I hadn't forgotten about our conversation at the Heuther, much as I would have liked to. The stripper haunted me http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (8 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


sometimes, dreams where I was both on stage and seated in Perverts Row gripping me, waking me, flushed and hot in the night. But Stacy had never mentioned it again, and I hoped that she'd forgotten -two girls who'd had a little too much to drink. Obviously, she hadn't forgotten. She looked up at the ceiling, her voice far more serious than I would have liked. "Innocence," she said, but not to me. "It's all you ever pleaded." "Harlequin. You're not tying me up." "Why not?" She lowered her face, her eyes holding mine. That grin was back, and she tilted her head, daring me to answer. "You're just not." She shrugged, and turned back to the clouds. "I swear, you are never going to get laid," she said. I swallowed, and opened up the notebook again, the pencil resting against the page, but not moving. "I've got rope in my room," Stacy said. I turned back towards her. "Stop it. You're not tying me up." I paused. "It's too -- kinky." "The guys would salivate over you." "So let me tie you up." She shrugged. "Okay." I didn't want to tie her up. My heart hammered in my chest, my breasts rising and falling noticeably under my shirt. I wasn't wearing a bra -- it was Saturday -- and the cloth tickled my



nipples. They rose, despite my attempts to ignore the sensation. "No. Nobody is tying anybody else up." "Innocence," she whispered. I shook my head, and turned back to my notebook. There was no way I was going to concentrate. None. The image was in my head, whether I liked it or not. After a while, I turned to her. "Fine," I whispered. She turned her head from staring out the window, and grinned. I hated that grin. She returned after a while, letting herself back into my room with my key. I flushed. A length of rope, almost like clothesline, swung from her right hand. It gleamed there, a snake, a serpent. I couldn't take my eyes off it. She stood swinging it slowly as the door closed and latched behind her. Outside, the clouds chased each other across the sky. "You or me?" she said. The grin was gone now, but I still didn't really trust her. Bad influence. "I don't want to tie you up," I said. She shrugged. I truly believe that she would have been willing to do it, if I'd wanted to. It would have changed a few things, I suspect, had I tied her up, but that's in the past now. I pushed myself out of my seat, and walked over to her. I held my hands out, wrists pressed together. "Get it over with, if you must." She looked at my hands and laughed. "Most girls want to be tied to the bed." "Most girls don't do this," I reminded her. "Otherwise it would be innocent, wouldn't it?"



She laughed again, and pushed my shoulder. Resigned, I fell to the bed, swinging my legs. "Do I lie down? What?" She peered at me, her eyes sparkling. "First you have to take off your clothes, silly." I shook my head. "No, way. Uh. Uh." She laughed again. "Oh, really brave. Really going to catch a guy's eyes. Danielle tied up on a bed in her nun's habit." Actually, I suspected it might, but I shook my head. Stacy sighed. "If you don't want to do it right, then I'll do it." She dropped the rope on the floor where it coiled like a cobra near her feet. Her purple socks contrasted with the white. She reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it off in one swift motion while I stared. All I could picture at that moment was Stacy up on the Heuther stage, ripping her clothes off and spreading her legs for Perverts Row. Her bra shone in the light from the window. "Stacy ..." She looked up, her hands reaching behind her, fumbling for the clasp on her bra. "What?" "Stop stripping in my room." "Why?" "I'll do it. Dammit." I shivered. Bad influence. Dangerous influence. "Sure you will ..." she said. She made absolutely no movement to retrieve her top. It lay on the floor between us like a challenge. I sighed. This was the girls' dorm -- no guys around, anyway -- and the door was locked. I reached down and pulled my shirt off,



mimicking Stacy's disdain. The air greeted my skin like a cool breeze. My nipples crinkled. I shivered, and stood. If I was going that far, I may as well go for the gold. Soon, I stood bare in front of her, my at my feet. I grinned, somehow feeling stripped. Yes, only in front of Stacy, felt good in a strange way. I swear, I myself.

clothes littering the floor on top of the world. I'd hardly Perverts Row, but it never make sense even to

My mother called into my mind, warning, warning. This wasn't the time or place. I shoved her from my mind. I had a feeling that I might regret my hastiness, that old Ma may have had a few good reasons to constantly remind me of my inadequacy. I somehow couldn't picture her quite in this situation, though. Of course, one didn't have to be a direct participant to recognise a bad idea. For instance, one didn't have to be a super genius to understand that sawing through a limb upon which one was standing, like Sylvester the Cat, might be a poor idea, even for a cartoon. The passing thought wormed its way into my brain, causing ripples of unease, forcing me to think. I hate thinking. I eventually might have regretted this foolishness, but at the time, it seemed to make more sense than it had any right to. I swallowed, and lay back on the bed, face up. I calmly stretched my arms over my head. I felt my breasts lift upon my chest, nipples still uncertain of this. Stacy loomed above me, and I shivered again. The evil grin was back, and I suddenly felt a little like a fish, grasping at the worm, completely unaware of what was about to happen to me. In a moment, I would be gasping for air, so far out of my element that I would think I was drowning. The ropes held me securely. Nothing I could do about that, now. Her fingers wrapped coils of the rope about my wrists, and I shivered as she secured me to the bedposts. I pressed my legs together, but at her urging, I eased them apart for her, allowing her to finish the job of making me the world's easiest sucker. The ropes wrapped my bare ankles, tightening, and suddenly I was helpless. Naked and helpless and flushed. My breath rasped in and out of my lungs. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (12 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


Stacy settled into my desk chair, where I should have been plying calculus problems, or writing a philosophy essay. The grin returned. "All right. We know. Let me up." I pulled at my right wrist, shaking the bed a little. "Sort of." "What the hell do you mean: 'Sort of'?" She paused, and turned to look out the window. Stacy could be maddening that way, simply ignoring the important things in life. "We need a guy's opinion." My heart sank, forming a pit of lead in my belly. "A guy's opinion?" She grinned again. "Yes. I mean, *I* don't think it's innocent. You look about as innocent as Satan lying there, but we need ... Rick." My eye's widened. "Rick?" "Yeah. If he thinks you're still innocent, then we'll have to try something else." "Stacy ..." She pushed herself to her feet. She hunted for something on my desk, and then held it up to me. My door key. She placed it gently on my belly where it lay, so close, but so out of reach. It rose and fell with my laboured breathing. "You can't do this." She laughed. "Why not?" "Because. You know why not." She moved towards the door, and leaned back on it.



"You like Rick, don't you?" I nodded. He was ... interesting. Stacy knew that. It wasn't like we never talked. Girl stuff. Even if I'd never told her, she was smart enough to figure it out. "But this. No way. He'll think ..." She laughed and stepped back towards me. Her fingers brushed me as she gathered up the key from my belly. "... that you're a brave girl." "Brave? Stupid, more like. Let me out. Now." She shook her head, and opened the door. "Don't go anywhere," she said lightly. Such a goddamn comedienne. I sighed as the door clicked shut behind her. I didn't want him to see me like this -- not the best introduction to a potential love interest -- but I didn't see much of a choice. Much as I blamed Stacy, I'd allowed myself to be goaded into this. As it turned out, he wasn't much of a love interest, and Stacy wasn't completely wrong. It could have been ten minutes. It could have been an hour. Time passes differently when one is bound naked and helpless to a bed in the middle of the afternoon. I amused myself by counting the dots in the ceiling tile. It isn't as easy as one might believe. I kept losing track at about three hundred and forty. My limbs felt a little numb, even my relatively free fingers tingling, perhaps not used to being tied motionless for so long. A noise at the door surprised me, breaking my latest count nearer two hundred and five, than three hundred forty. My heart began to hammer in my chest as I heard the key slip into my lock, the handle turning as I stared at it. I wanted to scream at her, wanted to beg her to let me go, let me dress, cover me. Anything. But it wasn't Stacy that stepped tentatively through the door. Shit. She'd done it. I had no idea how, or why, but the familiar form of http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (14 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


Rick stumbled through the door, hands held out in front of him almost like a zombie. I couldn't face him. I turned away before he could even fully step through the door. I pulled frantically at my bonds, moaning under my breath. He moved closer, but the exclamation of surprise never surfaced, never flowed to brand me with derision. Given the lack of response, I guess I expected a look of flabbergasted surprise, striking him dumb. Perhaps, a vain part of me actually wanted him to be dumbstruck by the unexpected view of me naked and helpless in front of him. The truth was both relieving and surprising at the same time. He walked slowly forward, groping, guided by the maddeningly smiling Stacy, her hand light upon his shoulder. He was much taller than her, and she reached up. I have no idea why I notice these things. I simply do. I sighed inwardly, relief washing over me as I saw his face. He looked a little like a reverse Lone Ranger, his eyes covered instead of his mouth. High-ho Silver -- oh crap -- wait a sec. Kemosabe? Uh. You may have screwed that up. Damn. The cloth looked dark and snug, fit about his eyes like a mask. I trembled as she guided him to the chair that was set beside the bed where she'd sat before taking off and leaving me. She hadn't tied him, his hands were free, only his eyes were covered. I suddenly realised that my innocence was only fleeting. He could take off the blindfold himself, at any point. I began to pray, without much hope, that he wouldn't. I have no idea how she got him into the dorm, still don't. I have no idea how she managed to get him to wear that silly reverse Lone Ranger bandanna across his eyes. Either way, a guy in here was a decisive no-no. Stacy, and probably me by extension, was risking expulsion by bringing him here. Hell, Rick was probably risking far worse than expulsion given the apparent situation. I could see all too clearly what it might look like to the Dean, if he were to waltz in here without warning. Bed check! Surprise! And what a surprise. After Rick settled into the chair, Stacy stepped away, winking at me. I turned my eyes to his hands which clenched and unclenched in some strange mimicry of stress. He was stressed?!?



Stacy stepped to the door, opening it silently. "Stacy, no!" I called out. But it was far too late, even if she had ever had any intention of staying, which I seriously doubted. Perhaps she knew what would happen, perhaps not. I suspect that she knew Rick better than I did. But could she honestly have foreseen what was to happen? I doubted that. "Stacy?" Rick called as the door snicked shut behind her. When no answer came, he slowly rotated his head, perhaps sensing where I was by my rapid breathing. "Rick?" I said slowly, carefully. He started at the sound of my voice, his hands rising almost instinctively towards his face. I shivered, and panic rose into my throat. "Rick, no. Please." He dropped his hands back to the arms of my chair, and his fingers began that weird rhythmic clenching again. Open. Close. Open. Close. "Danielle, what the hell is going on here?" he asked slowly. I swallowed. "She didn't tell you?" "I thought," he began. Then stumbled. His hands rose to his face, and I began to protest again, but he didn't pull off the blinder, merely cradling his head in his hands. "Rick. Please, don't take off that blindfold. Please." "That's what she told me, too. Said I would never ... if I did ..." My head spun for a moment, but then settled. I had to tell him. There was no other way. "Rick. I'm sorry. I swear I am. I don't quite know what's going on here." "That makes two of us."



"I'm naked, Rick." His head rose at that, and I was nearly sure that he would take off the blindfold. Now, with a little more experience under my belt, I know that most guys would have, especially, after the next little conversation. But to his credit, Rick didn't. I never asked her, but I suspect that Stacy somehow knew that he wouldn't, even if she would never admit it. "What?" he whispered. His lower face paled a little, as if I was a dragon or something, having told him that I was about to kill him, or breathe fire all over him. "I'm naked. If you take off that blindfold ..." He nodded, understanding. If I was reading his body language at all, he understood perfectly. I wanted to tell him the rest, but he'd find that out soon enough. No need to rush things. I was embarrassed enough having to tell him that I was nude. "Get dressed then," he murmured. I sighed. "I can't, Rick." He looked puzzled. "Why not?" In retrospect, I probably should have told him a lie. Stacy had taken all my clothes. I had some rare life-threatening illness that would kill me if I dressed. Something. Anything. I could see my panties lying innocently under his right foot, crushed and trapped like a pink butterfly. I swallowed before I spoke, my mouth dry. "Because I'm tied to the bed. All right?" He paused then. I could see it upon his face, the set of his body in the chair. His instincts rose up, clashing with whatever was holding his impulses in check. So easy to simply reach up and pull the blindfold from his eyes. His hands actually shook. I don't know if it was because I begged him, or whether it was a sense of chivalry, either way, he managed to control his hands.



"Please, Rick. I'm begging you. Please, don't." He nodded. "Danielle, why? I don't believe you." I don't know if it was male stupidity, or simply the male propensity to make female's lives uncomfortable. Why the hell would I have made up such a stupid lie for? And it flooded into me. A stupid prank, played to make him look foolish. How far would us girls go to make a monkey out of a man? That's what he thought this was: me sitting on the bed, fully clothed, trying to get a reaction out of a desperately horny man. He wasn't going to fall for that. Oh, I understood. I didn't want to, but I understood. "Stacy didn't tell you?" He shook his head. "I thought ..." I sighed. "About two feet in front of you, a little to your left." He shifted his head towards my voice. "What?" "Reach out, but be careful." He missed my arm, which is where I wanted him to be, but at least he was higher than my breasts. For a stupid instant, I actually hoped that he missed a little further south. I regained my senses when his fingers touched my cheek. I forced my head to remain still under his touch. "That's my cheek, Rick." He nodded slowly, understanding, making the connection between what he felt and what I'd said, gathering his bearings.



"Slowly, Rick, find my right arm, and trace up to my wrist." I shivered as his fingers trailed over my throat, my bare shoulder, and up my arm, finally encountering the ropes that circled my wrist. I wiggled my fingers, and he withdrew as if he'd touched a snake or a spider. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "Yup," I said unnecessarily. "Jesus. Are you all right?" I didn't know the right answer to that, but I made one up anyway. "As long as you leave that damn blindfold on, I'm fine." "Holy shit. Why?" I didn't answer him, Instead, I lay there curious about what I then shook his head,

couldn't face that particular truth myself. helplessly, and hoped that he wouldn't get too looked like. He sat silently for a while, and sighing.

"Danielle?" "Uh huh?" "I have to go." "What?" "I have to go." "What? Why?" I have no idea why I said that. Apparently, we were on the same wavelength. He had to leave. But I didn't want him to leave. Something unsaid. Something that needed to be resolved. Even under these, um, trying circumstances. He didn't answer me, but he didn't push himself to his feet either. I wiggled my toes. They tingled way down the other end of the bed, almost as if they weren't a part of me any longer.



"Do you think you could untie me?" He looked startled. "Untie you?" "It's only ropes. I'd do it myself, but the whole point of tying someone up is so they can't reach the knots." I cursed Stacy for the millionth time. Unfortunately, she knew the whole point, and nothing but the point. Believe me, I had been trying to reach those damn knots for a while, now. "Oh," he said. He made no move towards me. He gathered his breath, filling his lungs. "Please?" "I doubt if I can with the blindfold on." I swallowed. "No. Please. Leave it on. That's okay." He hesitated for a moment longer, and then reached forward. In a panic, I was sure that he was reaching for my right breast. "Rick!" He pulled his hand back. I let my breath out in a whoosh. "I was just ..." he stammered. I sighed. "Your fingers came about a millimetre from my right breast." He shivered for a moment, and then mumbled something unlikely. "I'm sorry." "What were you doing?" "I was going to try to untie you. Like you asked." Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea. A really bad idea. Like letting http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (20 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


Stacy tie me up naked in the first place. "It's all right. Nevermind." "You don't want to be untied?" "I doubt if you could do it blind either, and I'd rather be tied than ..." My voice trailed off knowing how the remainder of my thought would sound. "Oh," he said. He leaned back in the chair making a familiar squeak. He seemed a little upset. I couldn't blame him. "I didn't mean it that way, Rick. Honestly. I like you, and under other circumstances, without the ropes, maybe with my clothes ..." Maybe if I was a little less innocent. He shifted the chair back and away from me. "Danielle?" "Yes." "You're babbling." I thought I had a right to babble, but I didn't say so. "Sorry." He sighed, and fell silent for a while. Then, his head rose. For a moment, I wished that I could see his eyes. "I thought that she, Stacy, was bringing me up here for a blowjob. I never ..." I swallowed, the implications of that sinking in. "Stacy?" He nodded, almost miserably. I silently thanked Gods that I wasn't sure that I still believed in that I hadn't chased him. It wasn't too late to pull back my attraction to the guy. It seems cold, I know, but I was cold, literally, my body shivering, exposed. And



there are more important things on a girl's mind than whether or not she can stop liking a guy when she's in this kind of situation. "You and Stacy? Together?" He nodded. "Not yet ..." The implication was clear. Not yet, but hopefully. Together. Blowjobs leading to ... "Rick ..." "I shouldn't have told you that." "That's all right." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Was this all in benefit for me?" "What?" "You? Tied up there? Naked?" I swallowed. I didn't know what the right answer was. I wasn't in charge here. I doubted if I ever was. "I was supposed to take this off, wasn't I?" He gently touched the reverse Lone Ranger mask across his eyes. "I think so. To prove I wasn't as innocent as I look." I paused for a moment. "It wasn't exactly my idea," I whispered. I knew it sounded lame as soon as I said it. I cursed Stacy silently again. It wasn't her lying here trying to explain the fucking impossible. Truthfully, I couldn't believe it myself. I don't know why I expected Rick to understand it. "Do you want me to take it off?" He fingered it, making my heart begin to hammer again in my chest. I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see it. The shame of it was that I did, in some remote corner of my mind, want him to whip it off and ravage me. Even when I knew that he wasn't interested in me. Stacy's blowjob filled his mind, even with me lying helpless and naked only a blindfold away. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (22 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


"Rick. No. Not like this." He sighed, and shifted back towards me. He reached out again, and I held my breath. I thought I knew what he was doing, a last effort at releasing me. I'd ceased being jumpy, more resigned to my fate. Truthfully, I no longer really cared if he removed that blindfold or not. Then again, maybe I did, I didn't tell him to take it off, even when it meant freedom. "Rick ..." He halted, his fingers only a centimetre from my right nipple. I could shift myself enough to get out of its way, or to press myself into him. Tying a girl onto a bed so she absolutely can't move isn't easy. Four ropes on wrists and ankles won't do it. At least, not the ones I had. I could move a few centimetres in some directions if I had to. I closed my eyes and held still. "Do you know where your hand is?" "Almost at your wrist?" His sense of direction, typically male, had failed him again. I had no doubt that this was innocent, that I was innocent, even lying here naked about to be touched intimately by the guy I was interested in. Had been interested in. After this, he wouldn't look at me sideways in the street. Fuck. Then again, I got the feeling that he never really would have. He was hung up on Stacy, and that was life. I kept my eyes closed. "Close enough." Reassured, he pushed forward again. I gasped as his fingers touched my breast, almost caressing my nipple, erect and waiting. Figures. Well, it took a moment for the tactile sensation to reach his head: far more soft and yielding than my wrist, or forearm if he'd been off by only a centimetre or two. He hesitated a moment, confused. Tendrils of sexuality raced through me, even this innocent touch driving some of the maddening frustration into my groin. I pulled



savagely against my ankles, but the rope held, as I knew it would. Nothing was that easy. My nipples throbbed, especially where he'd brushed me. My vagina pulsed without warning. Somehow, I managed to stop myself from moaning. "Christ," he whispered. He pulled his hand back, cradling it as if it were wounded. "I'm sorry." "Rick, it's all right," I said. He still didn't know where he'd touched me, not for sure. He only knew that he'd touched soft skin, and it wasn't a wrist wrapped in ropes. Who the hell am I kidding? He had to know. He moaned, and it was then that I realised that Rick was as innocent as I, perhaps more so. I sympathised with him. "I tried, I'm sorry," he mumbled. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying ungainly, robbed of the stabilisation of sight. We don't really understand what it feels like to try and do normal things without our eyes. The blind live with it every day, but I think I now understand what the white cane is for. I didn't say anything. He turned his head to look at me, unnervingly accurate in locating my face. For some reason, I was sure that he would be staring at my chest, considering my position. But of course, even if he had, it wouldn't have been conscious. His world was mercifully dark, where he couldn't be blamed. "I have to go," he said. "Stacy. I. She's. I'm sorry." He held his hands out in front of him, and I watched as he awkwardly moved away from me. "Rick?" "Danielle, please don't ... I can't ..." "You're about to step in the trashcan." "Shit," he murmured.



It felt like a very weird game of blindman's bluff, but we played like desperate souls. Left. Right. Hot. Cold. Until his fingers finally touched the door. He felt along it, a drunk, or the blind man that he was, until he found the knob. He paused there, his hand still resting on the knob. My body ached, and not only because I'd been tied down so long. Something else. Desire. Not innocence. His face turned again to mine, unerringly finding my presence in his darkness. I'll never understand how he did that, when his hands almost unerringly found my chest instead of my wrists. If there was a being of a higher power, she had a weird sense of humour. "Danielle?" "Yes, Rick?" "I'm sorry, for what it's worth." He wasn't sorry for touching me inappropriately, he wasn't sorry that he was caught like a rabbit in a wolf's den, he wasn't even sorry that Stacy had been as cruel as she had been to him, whether she knew it or not, or that he'd been unable to untie me. No. He was simply sorry for things that could not be. I was with him on that score. "Thanks, Rick." He seemed to understand, and twisted the knob. I doubted if he'd ever look at me the same way again, an innocent university girl, out on her own, everything new. Somehow, it no longer mattered to me. Perhaps, my innocence was fading. I was sure that Stacy would come in as he left, laughing and grinning, ready to untie me from my prison. But the door snicked shut, no feminine laugh issuing forth. Only the running sound of heavy feet, pattering down the corridor and the lonely sound of a fire door slamming on the stairwell at the end of the hallway as he escaped. I lay my head back on the pillows as I realised that Stacy had assumed that something else was going to happen between us, and had given us privacy. Either that, or she'd been called away. I'd been wrong. Stacy hadn't known that he wasn't going to ravish



me, hadn't known that her offhand admonishment, or my begging, to stay blindfolded would be so effective. She hadn't known, perhaps, that Rick wasn't a typical guy, or that he was head over heels in love with the wrong girl. Just my freaking luck. As I've said before. Stacy was a bad influence, but not always as smart as she thought she was. This is about the point where we began, the afternoon slipping into night, my hands and feet numb, my stomach complaining about my missed dinner, entire body shivering. My nipples ached, and my clitoris fairly throbbed out a samba between my legs. Frustration, and helplessness. That's me. Danielle, the sucker. In a way, Stacy simplification. me to this damn humans, have to

was to blame for this, but that is truly a I didn't have to strip. I didn't have to let her tie bed. Despite my misery, I do understand that we, as take responsibility for our own stupidity sometimes.

Stacy would realise, sooner or later, what happened, or be able to sneak away, and release me. I hoped for sooner. I watched helplessly as the last rays of sunlight kissed my bare toes and then faded into night. I suppose I must have dozed off; what else did I have to do? The soft sound of the key in the lock woke me. Disoriented, I glanced around, confused as I realised that I couldn't move my hands or legs. My entire body ached. Stacy edged into the room, her back to me, probably trying not to wake me. Her feet were bare, her hair damp, as if she'd taken a shower. A shower sounded mighty nice to me at the time. It was a miracle that my bladder hadn't started singing. The door closed with a whisper. "Stacy?" The girl whirled, probably expecting me to be asleep in my bed, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (26 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


curled up, satiated with an afterglow of Rick. Her face caught the moonlight, almost like an angel. Her eyes widened as she saw me, horror and anguish simultaneously flooding her face. "Danielle? Oh, God," she moaned. Her feet carried her to the bed in a whirl of motion. "Can we untie me now? Please?" She swallowed; I could see the motion of her throat in the moonlight from the window. "He didn't ..." "Untie me?" She nodded, her face miserable. "No." I paused, perhaps for effect. "Did he fuck me?" She closed her eyes, pained. "No. He didn't even touch me. At least, not intentionally." Stacy sank to her knees, her fingers reaching for my face. Surprised, I realised that I was crying a little, tears slipping unheeded down my face. "Danielle, I'm sorry. The girls found me, and I panicked. They wanted to come up here, go to the movies with you. I had to do something, had to go with them. I thought ... I thought for sure that Rick ... oh, god, I'm so sorry." Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, tickling as she knelt beside me. There were tears in her eyes. She really was sorry, of that I was certain. "I know, Stacy." And I did. I blame her, still do, human nature, I suppose, but I have to forgive her, too. There are reasons. She looked up at me, her fingers mopping the tears from my face. "Rick ..." "... is in love with you. I know." I pulled at my arm, the ropes



biting in deeper. I winced, but she didn't seem to notice. For the first time, I realised that she was crying, her tears shedding and running down her cheeks. Ironically, I wanted to hug her, but that wish was doomed to failure. At least, then it was. She nodded miserably. From my perspective, I thought that her misery was simply the concern of one friend for another, a love lost. "I wasn't in love with him, Stacy. Not yet." "I know. I had to show you." Confused, I looked up at her. The damn ropes still held me down. I wanted to shake her. Make her make sense. "Show me what?" She sighed, and lifted herself to sit on the bed. Her body dimpled the covers between my thigh and my armpit. Her hip brushed my breast. I stifled a small gasp, unaware of how sensitive I'd become. "Innocence." "Stop it, Stacy. I'm not as innocent as you think." She was talking about something else, I think. She nodded, acquiescing to the truth, changing tacks with me. I wasn't innocent. Hadn't been, even before she tied me to this bed. Guys liked that, didn't they? Of course, Rick had left, even with an available, naked, completely un-innocent girl obviously interested in him. But then again, I hadn't asked him to stay, either. I hadn't told him to tear off that damn upside down Lone Ranger bandanna, when he hadn't done it himself. Stacy leaned down, her hands on either side of me, above my shoulders. I squirmed. Her breath smelled faintly of honey, her hair, still damp, dragged on me, kissing my collarbones. Her breasts hung under her shirt, almost touching my bare chest. "Stacy?" She gathered in her breath. No grin. "Rick likes me. I've known that for a long time," she said. Her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/innocence.html (28 of 32)8/15/2005 12:05:08 AM


face pinched, brutally aware of her miscalculation. I got the feeling that she didn't quite know the depths of how much, else she might have chosen another tack with Rick, when she brought him up here. I'd seen the pain there when he realised that he wasn't getting what he'd come up here for, Stacy hadn't. It was more than sex, more than a promised blowjob. Stacy, and her lips. I suppose I should have been angrier, but I was more tired and aching than anything else. Still, some anger seeped into me. "So you promise him a blowjob, force him on me?" Her eyes misted, and a single tear fell. The wetness fell to my neck and trickled down. "I'm sorry. It was stupid." I nodded. It was. I could have been hurt. I'd trusted her. God knew how much she'd fucked up Rick in the process. Sudden anger welled up in me, but I think I should have been even angrier. But I wasn't. Rick would survive. He hadn't touched me. Hadn't even taken off the blindfold. I thanked my lucky stars it had worked out without anyone, particularly me, getting seriously hurt. I suppose that I shared in that blame, but at the time, I only blamed her, the anger hot and undeniable. If I hadn't been tied down, I might have slapped her. "Damn right it was stupid. Now, my wrists hurt. Untie me." She shook her head. "Enough of this game, Stacy. I want out." "A moment, Danielle? Please?" I sighed. I'd been here for hours, and even through my anger, I realised that she was trying to tell me something. Something important. My anger retreated like a gazelle in flight. I never could stay angry with anyone, not in my nature, I suppose. Calm filled me, as calm can only fill a person that had no other option. My shoulders ached, and my ankles were numb, but I didn't complain. She gazed into my eyes, and I shifted under her. Her breath warmed my face.



"Christ, Stacy. For a second there, I thought ..." She whispered, and then did exactly what I thought she was going to do, but never finished saying. "Innocence, it's all you ever pleaded." "What?" "Innocence. It's what guys don't want." "Some do," I said. I had a sinking feeling that Rick was one of them. His interest in Stacy notwithstanding. "I'm not a guy," she whispered, oblivious to my words. I should have seen it coming, her posture, her demeanour, her actions, her soft voice. But I didn't. Not until she nodded, and then kissed me, and the meaning of her words became crystal clear. Suddenly, I didn't care about being tied down. I didn't care that I was naked. I didn't care about Rick, or billiards, or strippers, or the Heuther Hotel, or nondescript, non-existent coffee shops. She flooded me, her lips soft, and yielding, banishing my anger and my indignation as a wind scatters smoke. I heard myself moaning, as if from a great distance, and I kissed her back, my bare body writhing under her, gasping for air until she finally broke the kiss. Her lips continued to kiss me, though, trailing down my throat, to my breasts, and then down my belly, tickling and teasing, as I lay in the ropes and moaned. She found my rhythm like a long lost lover, her tongue driving into me, across me, her fingers light on my breasts and nipples. She lay awkwardly, half on and half off the bed between my spread legs, licking, stroking. My hips rocked towards her, my brain switched off, only sensation driving me, like an animal. And like an animal, I cried out as her tongue drove me over the edge, into blissful free fall, my body arching and clenching, sweet release at last.



She untied my ankles first, then my wrists. I lay still, savouring each touch of her fingers on my damp skin. When I was free, I finally gathered Stacy into my arms, and she curled up there like a child. It was an odd reversal, after having been bound and helpless myself for so long. I stroked her hair, enjoying the damp sensation of it. "You?" I whispered. Stacy understood, and shook her head. "Maybe later." Perhaps, it was a concession, retribution for what she'd done to me earlier, a small sacrifice of her personal pleasure as self imposed punishment. I'll never know her true reasons, but I didn't push the issue, even while I wanted to taste her. I was simply too damn tired. One can't really blame me. So, for a while, until later rolled around the next morning, I maintained a little innocence, after all. I still shivered from my climax. As I slipped down into the bed, finally pulling the covers over my nakedness, revelling in their simple warmth, I knew it was late, even if I didn't know the exact time. It didn't matter. Stacy curled up, her bare skin pressed silky into mine, purring under the covers. The bed was a little cramped, but neither she nor I minded. "I'm sorry," she whispered. I understood, now, and I kissed the top of her head gently. "Next time, you don't have to tie me up, you know. You could have just told me." Of course, she couldn't, and I understand that. Oh, let's go catch a flick, Danielle. And by the way, I think I want to have sex with you. I might even love you. My heart sped up for a moment, reliving her fingers and her tongue, and simply her. I reminded myself of how she came to me. It was a hell of a way to make me realise that she



existed. I wondered how much she did know, and realised, underneath all that bravado. She looked up at me, a lazy smile across her face. She shrugged. I didn't know what that meant, but that grin was back on her face. I hated that grin. She was a bad influence. As I lay there, I was sure that even Rick would agree. I smiled and kissed those lips, tingling. She curled in, and closed her eyes. I did, too. The scent of sex and clover hung heavy, her soft skin comfortable next to mine as the sandman rose closer. I pictured her lips in the darkness; I didn't mind that mischievous smile, even after everything. Sometimes, innocence is all we really needed.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

When Angels Meet Angels - Crimson Dragon

When Angels Meet Angels © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== When Angels Meet Angels (FF, rom, beach) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright May-June 2002 Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) All Rights Reserved ======================================================================== "You really don't remember, do you?" Alison glanced up from her drink and eyed the big man behind the bar. He smiled at her, and as a force of habit, she smiled back. "Remember what?" she asked, raising her voice slightly above the overall background noise. As if to emphasise her point, she shrugged her shoulders, and sipped again at the glass of wine. Its amber sweetness touched her senses, vague memories beginning to resurface, as if at the big man's suggestion. She tried to grasp at the images, but they flittered away like elusive butterflies. CL shrugged, and turned from Alison, gathering up glasses from the wet surface of the bar as he moved away. Alison allowed a shallow frown to crease her brow. "Remember what?" she asked herself. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (1 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


Fleeting images teased her. Castles. Blonde hair smelling of clover. Bonfires and feasts. Singing upon a huge stage. Magic. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Too much mead, perhaps. It had been ages since she'd drunk mead, but tonight had seemed -- appropriate somehow. She thought back. She rarely ventured from her apartment, preferring the quiet introspection of a good story. At night, she would sit in her comfortable chair under the single halogen bulb, and read. She didn't remember why she had come here, to the Portal, on this night. It seemed natural, though, and the big bartender seemed to remember her, even if it had been months since she'd stepped into the hazy club. He seemed familiar, like an old, lost, friend. "Inverness," he said. She looked up from her fingers, startled. "What?" "Inverness. That's what you are trying to remember." He gazed at her, as if his words should make more sense than they did. For a moment, the bartender appeared more familiar, seemingly out of place behind the bar. Instead of a bottle of vodka, a torch -- the torchbearer's torch -- flickered in his paw of a hand. She blinked, and the image faded into the smoky atmosphere of the Portal. "Scotland?" she said, feeling dopey as soon as the word had passed her lips. She knew he was going to shake his head with an enigmatic smile, and as if on cue, he did. Damn it, why couldn't she remember? Why was Inverness so damn familiar to her? She watched as the burly bartender moved off again, to deal with other customers. She swivelled on her chair, hooking her toes around the legs. Her eyes were drawn to the stage. The normally tone-deaf karaoke singers had been replaced by two women. Alison's breath caught for a moment. The two women seemed so --- familiar, and yet not so. Inverness? Had she been to a place called Inverness? Castles? Festivals? Sex? Her breasts tingled for a moment, as if her body remembered http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (2 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


more than her mind. She shook her head. The music cranked up and the petite blonde girl began singing "Crazy 'bout a Mercury" frenetically on stage. Her voice merged well with the music, and it touched another faint chord within Alison. The taller redhead stood beside, smiling, and moving gently to the music. Below the stage, the crowd danced to the old sixties tune, as if following in the footsteps of the blonde. As the blonde finished her set, perspiration dotting her brow, the music segued, and slowed, as the redhead put her lips to the microphone. Soft sound quieted the bar. Alison glanced around. All eyes rested upon the redhead, almost as if her voice commanded attention. Alison returned her own eyes back to centre stage. "You are the Angel of the morning, Angel ..." The music twinged another memory, this one closer and more real. A beach, and another girl in diaphanous white. Sands. And secrets. For a moment, she could almost taste the salt in the air, the Academy hauntingly near. A touch to Alison's shoulder tore her eyes from the tall girl. The redhead seemed even more familiar than the blonde girl, the words of her song flowing over Alison like a gentle wave. She was so sure that she knew the singer, from somewhere. (Inverness?) "Care to dance?" The man was tall, dark and handsome. Alison sipped at her mead, surprised that the glass was empty. She glanced at CL, who merely smiled and waved at her, as if to say: "Don't be stupid, dance with him." And so she did, her arms easily encircling his neck. In return, his arms encircled her waist, comfortingly and close. Together, they turned slowly amongst the heated crowd below the stage. He moved gracefully to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (3 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


the music, and she found it easy to follow. The music had stopped before Alison realised that the dance was over. She released her partner. (I don't even know his name.) (It's Denny, but it doesn't matter.) "Thank-you," he said with a smile. He looked vaguely familiar to Alison as well, but before she could respond, he had disappeared into the living crowd. The tall redhead had melted off the stage, almost as if she were so much smoke dissipating into the night. The blonde had joined the crowd, spinning, arms outstretched in the front of the stage. A circle of dancers surrounded the girl. For a moment, Alison was sure that the girl danced there without her clothing, but as she blinked, the girl's blouse reappeared, billowing about her lithe form. Alison glanced around, and with a sigh, snaked her way through the crowd now dancing to the techno-beat of TransX, returning to her seat at the bar. She signalled for another mead, and then sipped at it slowly. (Mead is dangerous. Sip, my dear, sip.) "Have you remembered, yet?" Alison looked up, suddenly weary. "Inverness?" He smiled, but she shook her head slowly. He touched her hand, and the touch seemed familiar and warm against her skin. Her senses seemed heightened, as if in anticipation of something. "You will, torchbearer, you will." He wandered off down the bar. She sighed again, and watched the crowd. Memory refused to indulge her. She thrust a few bills over the seat towards the driver.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (4 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


"Change?" he asked. Alison shook her head. "Keep it," she murmured. She had no idea how much she had given him, but his smile in the rear view mirror told her it may have been a little much. She didn't care. She glanced at her wrist watch. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate, then it stumbled back into motion. She blinked, but the world still seemed to tick along as it always did. Normally, she wouldn't be awake at two o'clock, but there was something about this night. Something. Dimly, she heard the taxi door slam, and the car accelerate as it left her standing lonely on the curb. Across the street, the tall redhead from the Portal stood watching her. Alison raised her hand, blinked, but the girl was gone -- again, as if a puff of wind had blown away so much smoke. Alison shook her head, and wearily climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and stumbled upstairs to her small apartment. A shower had been necessary. The stink of stale cigarette smoke hung in her hair, and on her clothing, like static cling. Her eyes wept with the sting of the cancer sticks. Under the falling rain of warm water, her hair hung in damp strings from her scalp, caressing her shoulders. With a sigh, she stepped from the tiny enclosure. She stood, naked and shivering, in front of the mirror. On the desk beside her, her pyjamas waited. After a moment, she slipped the tops of her pyjamas over her bare skin, and drew the pants over her legs. Normally, she wouldn't bother with sleeping attire, especially when her eyes refused to stay open any longer, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that there were eyes here. Somewhere. Watching her. The drapes were drawn, and the room only illuminated by a single bedside lamp. She sighed.



(Silly girl. Who'd be watching you?) (The Dragon) (Who?) She shook her head slowly, and climbed between the sheets, shivering until her body had warmed the bed. At the touch of her fingers, the lamp clicked off, plunging the room into eerie semi-darkness, only lit by a single beam of light between the curtains from the ever-present street lamp outside her window. She was asleep even before her head touched the pillow, her breathing soft and relaxed. The street light's rays slashed across her cheek, kissing her goodnight. Unnoticed, a small pile of sand upon her bedstand shifted slightly, almost swirling like pixie dust, as her soft breathing ran tendrils of air over its surface. "Alison?" Alison murmured something incoherent in her sleep, turning over. "Alison?" The girl moaned, and threw an extra pillow across her ears, burying her head beneath. "It's not a school day, Claire. Jeez," Alison murmured sleepily. After a moment, her breathing returned to a gentle but steady rhythm. "Alison. It's time to go. You'll miss her, if you don't hurry." The soft feminine voice finally penetrated into Alison's sleep clouded mind, and she slowly sat up, the covers falling from her chest to pool in her lap. She blinked, her eyes grainy and aching. (How much mead did I drink?)



The answer came swiftly, almost as if it hadn't originated from her own mind. (Not enough, Alison. Not enough.) Alison swallowed, her throat raspy. "Who's there?" she whispered. Her heart began to beat more insistently in her chest. But it wasn't fear. The feminine voice sounded familiar, and soothing -- nothing like the more masculine tones that would have sparked panic. A shadow shifted near the mirror, and Alison caught her breath. The tall redhead stepped into view, the gentle shaft of street lamp touching her lower legs and thighs, illuminated bare feet below a white hem. But it was her. There was no mistaking the voice, nor the girl. And she was familiar. Perhaps it was her dreams, perhaps it was her unconscious mind, but suddenly she knew. "Crimson?" Alison whispered. She pushed herself further back towards the headboard. "You are starting to remember. It's difficult the first few times. Most think it was a dream." "Inverness?" "Inverness." Alison swung her legs from the bed, her feet bare and cool upon the parquet. She stepped towards the tall girl. As she approached, the girl shimmered, shifting from female to male, and then to a creature with crimson scales. Alison blinked, and the girl returned, standing easily, her body draped in diaphanous white, her red hair curled about her shoulders. Alison's heart ached in her chest. "We're going back," Alison said. "To Inverness? You came for me?" The Dragon smiled gently, without answering. "It's too early. Equinox is tomorrow." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (7 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


"If you don't want to go, I cannot make you," the red-haired girl said, her voice musical. Alison stepped closer, the girl's features becoming more clear, more distinct, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Images flittered through her mind. Castles. Stolen kisses. Beaches. Portals. Fields of clover. She tried to grasp at them, but they again skittered from her. Her body again remembered, and her breasts tingled. She cocked her head to the side. "You are remembering," Crimson said, her voice slow. "That song. The one you sang on stage, that was for me, wasn't it?" Crimson nodded slowly. "I cannot replace her, but you need to let her go." Alison nodded. Suddenly, more night, a bad night. After her then, had sat with her, given skipped another beat, and the

images flooded her. Another break-up, and Crimson, male her Inverness. Her heart truth of it sank into her.

"You know I might love you. I couldn't tell you last time." "You do remember. But do you also remember that I am not for you? I cannot." Tears threatened, even if Alison didn't understand why, but she nodded anyway. Crimson's lips were soft, and yet burning, as they touched Alison's cheek. The kiss was chaste, no more implied, nor taken, but her nerves jangled, driving unusual desire into her -- her breasts, between her legs. Her breath came in gasps. "It's time to go. The Festival is tomorrow, but tonight it is only for two." "You and me?" Slowly, Crimson shook her head, her hair glimmering in the dim light. "Not I, but you. And one other."



"Who?" "You will know her." It didn't make sense to Alison, but she stepped backwards, her feet whispering across the floor. When she turned, heatless blue fire opened in a ring a few centimetres from the floorboards. She approached the portal, her fingers touching the blue light, passing through it, and not emerging from the other side. "What's on the other side?" she whispered. "Inverness?" Crimson laughed gently, her voice musical upon the air. The air seemed to carry an electric charge, making Alison's hair rise upon her arms and legs and at the nape of her neck. "Not Inverness, not as you know it." "What's beyond, then?" "The Angel of the Morning." Slowly, Alison turned. Crimson smiled at her, waving her on. Without another word, Alison made up her mind, stepping decisively into the blue flames. The portal engulfed her, and then she was falling. Falling forever. The blue flames intensified for a moment, in Alison's bedroom, and then slowly collapsed. The sand upon her bedside sighed, and swirled, almost as if the girl remained in her bed, softly breathing, tendrils of breath caressing it like pixie dust. Warm sand pressed into her cheek, the familiar sound of waves gently breaking against beach kissing her ears. Her eyes fluttered open, as she gasped in salty air. (Where the hell am I??) A feminine voice rode the sea breeze, softly singing:



"... Angel of the Morning, Angel. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby ..." Alison wearily lifted her head from the sand, her eyes searching across the tiny dunes of windswept ridges. Slowly, she sat up. The air was warmer here, thankfully, her thin pyjamas more than sufficient for the new climate. She took stock of her body. Her arms and legs ached, as if she'd fallen into a bed of soft sand -- which she supposed that she had. Nothing seemed broken, only aches permeated her limbs. Slowly, she pushed herself to her bare feet. The sand sighed under her toes. She stepped towards the surf. The moon seemed large, larger by far than a harvest moon, hung like a great disk hovering above the gentle waves. Its light danced across a million waves. "... then slowly turn away ..." Alison turned slowly, her eyes finding the shadow of the Dragon, sitting cross-legged under a palm. Red hair spilled over the Dragon's shoulders, contrasting in the moonlight with the simple white shift gracing the girl's body. Alison's feet left a trail as she approached the softly singing Dragon. As she approached, Crimson looked up, her eyes smiling, sparkling in the faint light of the moon. The sand was warm beneath her bottom as Alison sat across from the singing Dragon, her feet crossed in front of her. "... I see no need to take me home. I'm old enough to face the dawn ..." After a moment, Crimson looked up. Tears shone in her eyes, but didn't fall. Alison remained quiet, watching the girl until she spoke. "She's coming," Crimson said. Alison didn't quite know what to make of that. Her fingers played with the hem of her pyjamas, which fluttered in the breeze. "You could have let me change," Alison said quietly. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (10 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


Crimson shrugged, a smile forming about her lips. "You won't need them much longer." Alison shivered despite the humid heat of the night. That sounded somewhat ominous, but she didn't press further for details. What would be, would be. Her fingers dropped to play with the sand, instead of her meagre clothing. "Why am I here?" "She comes," Crimson said again. Straining her ears, Alison could hear another girl's voice singing, the words floating along the beach, though she couldn't quite make out the tune for the gentle patter of the surf. She glanced up the expanse of sand, but no figure appeared. She turned back towards Crimson. "Why am I here?" Alison repeated. "Because you need to be." "It's not Equinox, not yet." Crimson shook her head, her red tresses gathering then parting at her white clad shoulders. "No, it's not." "What is this place? It's not Inverness, is it?" Crimson sighed, leaning back on her hands. Her breasts pushed gently at the white fabric of her tunic. Alison thought that she could detect the gentle rise of Crimson's nipples beneath the sheer material. "It is all Inverness, Alison." Alison coughed, allowing a puzzled look to grace her features. Crimson continued, her voice low. "We escape here." "Where is here? And don't say Inverness, or I'll hit you."



Crimson smiled. "Are you sure I wouldn't like that?" Alison flushed, but instead of raising her hand, laughed. "No. I'm not." She paused. "Where am I this time?" "An island. Me and you and Mercury. Soon to be only you and Mercury." "Who ..." "You'll remember her, methinks." Alison strained her mind, a flash of blonde hair emerging from the mists, only to disappear. "Mercury." "A beach. Moonlight. Surf. Salt. Sand. Mercury." "You created this place," Alison said, more a statement than a question. Crimson nodded. "I did. When the sun rises, on the last day of spring, it will dazzle. Until then, the beach is yours." "Why do you write?" "Writing is to her bare better stop is probably

part of me," Crimson said easily. She pushed herself feet, the tunic swirling about her body. "I can no writing than to stop breathing. And to stop writing to stop breathing. For me."

"Why bring me here?" "Because you wanted to come. You stepped through the portal. You fell through, and tumbled to the sand. I never forced you to do that. You came because you wanted to." Alison nodded slowly. She, too, rose, her feet light upon the sand. The two girls descended to the water's edge, where small waves lapped at their toes. Luminescent sea creatures danced beneath the waves. They fell quiet for a moment, watching the wind and the moon. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (12 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


Without thought, Alison's hand entwined with Crimson's. "I am not for you, you know ..." Crimson whispered. But she didn't pull her hand from Alison's. Another voice floated again across the currents of air along the beach. This time, the words were more distinct, and happy. "... I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury ..." Alison turned towards the sound, but the girl singing remained out of sight behind the cover of darkness. She turned back towards Crimson. "I want to kiss you," Alison said suddenly. For a moment, she thought that the Dragon would balk. She couldn't remember, not fully, but everything in her being cried out that the Dragon was not for her -- no matter how much she might want her. Instead, Crimson bent, and gently touched Alison's lips with her own. Tingles raced through Alison's nerves, and her breath fell between her lips in a quick rush. "Thank you," Alison whispered. But there was no reply. Only the haunting voice upon the wind. "... cruise it up and down the road ..." Smiling, Alison turned again. This time, a figure in white was visible, slowly walking down the water's edge, bare feet whispering through the waves. The girl was familiar, her blonde hair billowing about her face, obscuring it from Alison's view. The girl walked slowly, almost as if she were dancing, her voice serene upon the wind. A flash of the girl naked, reclining in hay in a loft far away, flitted through Alison's memory. She smiled as the girl approached. Her body was hidden, barely, by the sheer diaphanous material swirling about her legs. Where the garment touched the sea, it shimmered with moisture. The girl's bare feet nearly floated above the wet sand.



When the girl looked up, Alison gasped, full recognition slamming into her mind. "Oh, my, God ... Mercury ... how could I forget?" She ran, then, feeling her fingers slip easily from Crimson's. Mercury's body was warm and soft under Alison's embrace. Both girls were laughing as they hugged. "You didn't forget, Alison. We just faded. It happens. Happens to Janey, too." (Janey. The reluctant Queen.) Slowly, Alison disentangled herself from the girl. Moonlight shone upon her features, bathing the blonde in phosphorescence. "It's been so long." "It's almost Equinox," Mercury said. "I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury." Alison turned, then. Crimson raised one long fingered hand, and the nails glimmered for a moment. The tall girl smiled once, and waved. Alison waved back, and blinked back a tear. In the space of that blink, the Dragon shimmered off the island, replaced by sparkles of crimson light. "She'll be back. Or we won't be able to leave," Mercury murmured in Alison's ear. "But I'm glad you're still around. You still believe." Confused, Alison turned. Almost without thinking, she entwined her fingers in Mercury's, and the two of them watched the moon, and the waves for a long, long time. Mercury knelt in the sand, behind the small stack of brush. She grinned at Alison as Alison lowered herself to the sand, crossing her legs demurely. The largest breaking wave wouldn't reach them here -- they were dry and safe. Cricket song floated across the beach from the forest of palm trees beyond. Stars twinkled silently overhead.



Mercury passed her hands over the brush twice, blue radiance sparkling between her fingers. With a sigh, the brush caught, and normal orange flame began to lick at the dry wood. Pops and crackles issued into the night, and the scent of incense floated above the ever-present sting of salty air. After a moment, Mercury rose and paced through the sand, her bare feet leaving indents in the beach. She settled beside Alison, her fingers reaching for Alison's. "Do you remember Inverness? At all?" Alison nodded her head; her straight brunette locks danced in the moonlight. "A little," she said. She could feel the flush rising to her cheeks. Mostly what she remembered was this girl, naked, and beautiful. Making love -- really making love. Not the facsimile that she'd drifted through in the world above. Mercury raised her hand and gently touched Alison's cheek. Alison turned to regard the blonde. Mercury's robes fluttered gently in the salty wind. "We come here to escape," she murmured. "The Dragon, she brings us here, will bring us to the Keep, Inverness, at the dawn of the Equinox for the festival." "Why me?" "She likes you -- you're important to her." "Why you?" "Because I am Mercury." It made little sense to Alison, but she sensed that it didn't need to. "It's beautiful here." Mercury nodded. "Wait until the sunrise." Alison sighed, picked up a thin branch, and poked at the fire. Sparks showered upwards as if defying the laws of physics, mocking Isaac Newton and his hare-brained theories. Alison supposed that if the Dragon willed it, she could float as weightless and free as the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (15 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


tiny winks of lights rising from the fire. "Tomorrow, we'll be back there?" Mercury looked up, her eyes shifting from the fire to Alison's face. "Back to the Keep? Depends on what the Dragon wants. But we'll be somewhere, if you step through the portal. Red pill, blue pill. Aren't you glad that you took the red pill?" "I hope so." Mercury leaned in, nestling her head against Alison's shoulder. For a moment, Alison nearly withdrew, but the other girl didn't seem to notice. Slowly, the ease of being with her seeped back into Alison's being, and she relaxed. "I hope so, too. I've missed you," Mercury murmured. Mercury. The wild child. The girl who chose not to wear her clothing. The one that everyone knew. And she was here, sharing this beach -- with Alison. Tonight. Without warning, Mercury lifted her head. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved forward. The flames flickered across her soft skin, her eyes sparkling, almost laughing. And then their lips connected with a spark of electricity. Mercury's fingertips stole to toy with the buttons of Alison's thin pyjamas. Mercury's tongue flit across Alison's lips. A low moan, that she barely recognised as her own, floated above the sounds of the crickets. Overhead, the moon winked at the girls, its light seeming to intensify for a moment as the kiss lengthened. Sand clung to her bare skin, inundated her brunette tresses. Her fingers trailed easily over bare skin, tickling thighs, calves, toes, breasts, oh, nipples, and hips. The sea kissed her toes, as the tide gently rose. Mercury's legs slid effortlessly over her own, tingles racing through her. Racing. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (16 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


(Mmmmmmmmmmmm) Mercury's tongue touched her, found her rhythm, and suddenly, she was rocking, her toes splashing in the luminescence of the waves. God, fingers light upon her nipples, sand caressing her skin. The blue light rose up from within her, Mercury driving her towards the chasm's edge relentlessly, hopelessly, inevitably. She screamed, her voice swallowed by the moon, by the sand, by the sea. Her back arched, and she screamed again; her fingers dug furrows into the warmth of the beach. And at last, she collapsed, her breathing ragged, her body clenching, and aching. Wonderfully aching. Mercury moved into view, kneeling, her skin shining with perspiration, and the moisture of the sea, sand kissing her ever so intimately. The faint light of the flames flickered over bare skin bathed in moonlight. Alison weakly smiled up at the girl, stretching her hands over her head. She wanted to taste Mercury. "Cruise it up and down the road," Alison whispered. Mercury smiled, and lowered herself to the beach with a sigh. Her hair seemed nearly black as Mercury's head broke the surface with a laugh of abandoned pleasure. The girl twisted herself, then seeing Alison's silhouette, breast-stroked easily through the calm water. A trail of luminescence rose in her wake. When Mercury came close, she dropped, treading water easily, effortlessly. "Sand. It gets everywhere." Alison grinned and tilted her head back to shake out her hair in the dark water. Dots of light seemed to chase the fine grains that drifted from her tresses. With a sigh, she http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (17 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


brought her head back up. Light fingers found her nipples under the surface of the sea. Alison groaned, but didn't brush away Mercury's hands. Indeed, her own hands rose to find Mercury's breast, soft, firm and yielding beneath the uncaring waves. Mercury smiled, and kissed her again, her lips warm and wet, and inviting. Overhead, the moon watched the girls swim, lighting their passage through the calm waves. The moon breathed a sigh as the first rays of dawn peeked over the eastern horizon. Alison sat easily, her bare toes lapped by the warmth of the sea. Her pyjama bottoms, the cuffs, soaked up salty moisture, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The tops of her pyjamas fluttered in the light breeze beside the fire, entangled with Mercury's robe. Her fingers entwined with Mercury's, the blonde nude, and unselfconscious beside her in the sand. They watched the sun rise together, easily and without speaking. Alison felt Mercury squeeze her hand once, perhaps in response to a large sea bird or a dragon winging across the surface of the moon as it bid them farewell. "... I see them Angels of the morning, Angels. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby ..." The feminine voice carried almost like smoke upon the breeze. Mercury squeezed her fingers once more, as if in a silent farewell. Unexplained tears welled up in Alison's eyes. (I don't want to cry. I don't. I don't. I don't.) But she would cry. Eventually. Crimson was behind them, somewhere, sitting quietly singing against a palm tree. Somewhere. Waiting patiently.



Without thought, without speaking, Alison turned towards Mercury. The naked blonde was crying, though she didn't seem upset. Alison kissed her gently, one last time, tasting the salt of her skin. Her own tears traced down her cheeks as she had known they would. "Tomorrow night?" Mercury whispered. Alison smiled. "If I'm invited." "Don't be silly," Mercury said. "I'll shoot the old lizard if she didn't come to get you." Alison grinned, and then leaned down again to kiss the girl. Then she pushed herself to her bare feet, and walked up the beach. She bent at the remains of the fire, the surrounding stones still warm to the touch. She slipped the pyjama top over her shoulders but didn't bother buttoning it. The material fluttered a little at her waist, but she merely touched it with her fingers, and it obediently clung to her damp skin. Mercury's clothing remained lonely in the sand. Crimson had stopped singing, turning her grey eyes up to capture Alison's. "Thank you," Alison said simply. She reached down to help the Dragon to her feet. The tall girl was surprisingly light, as she rose. The Dragon seemed to understand her words, and merely leaned in to peck Alison on the cheek. Her lips burned across Alison's skin. Alison sensed, rather than saw, the portal open behind her. When she turned, the ring of blue shimmered in the dawn light. Through it, she could see Mercury, still facing the rising sun, her bare skin glowing. "Tomorrow night?" "Is Equinox," Crimson whispered. Alison nodded and stepped forward through the sand. She paused outside of the blue portal. Mercury turned and smiled, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (19 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


her eyes now dry. She waved, and Alison waved back. Without further hesitation, Alison stepped through the portal, and began to fall. A familiar song woke her as the alarm clock dispassionately and abruptly triggered. The song ended, and the announcer blared through Alison's sleep deprived mind: "Welcome to the first day of summer, my friends. June twenty-first, and a beautiful day it will be in the city that never stops. That was Merrilee Rush singing the sixties anthem, Angel of the Morning. We all need Angels of the Mornings, my friends. And we all need to be Angels of the Morning. Rise and shine, sleepyheads. A new day dawns ... and for those of us that have to work, my friends, consider playing hooky. Today's the day. And for those that can't escape the grind, rise swiftly, like the Angel Mercury, fly to wherever you need to be, but don't dally -- today's the first day of summer, my friends ... don't dally ... all you Angels out there, fly and meet the other Angels of this glorious morning ..." Alison fumbled over the covers, her fingers snapping off the radio with a groan. Sunlight streamed through the partially open blinds, kissing her. She ached, God, did she ache. She flexed her legs, and toes, wincing at the unaccustomed feelings of sexual abandonment. A glance under the covers confirmed it -- she was still dressed in the thin pyjamas that she'd retired last evening in, and nobody was likely in her shower. Confused, she peered again at her thin pyjamas, touching herself gently. Her breasts ached, as if they had been squeezed. (Sexual abandonment? Huh?) With another groan, she swivelled her legs from under the covers. The taste of mead, and something else, sweet and musky, touched her tongue and the back of her throat. It wasn't unpleasant; she was sure that she hadn't drunk too much at the Portal. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (20 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM


But strange dreams. So strange. She rubbed gently at her eyes. It didn't help. Something scratched, like sandpaper, at her bare left palm, under the covers. Curiously, she threw back the covers, and stared. (It gets everywhere, doesn't it?) Fine sand lay upon the cover sheets, and dusted the tops of her bare feet. Almost absently, she brushed first at the sheets, and then at her feet. Motes, like dust, floated lazily to the floor, sparkling in the beam of sunlight from the gap in the blinds. The sunbeam had noticeably shifted from when the annoyingly cheerful announcer had called her an Angel. Equinox approached. She pushed herself to her feet, stripping off her pyjamas, and dropping the sandy garments to the floor at her feet. When Angels meet Angels. She smiled, almost laughing for the first time in a long time. For the first time in months, she had something to look forward to. Perhaps, she would write a story, today. Anything seemed possible. And then the Dragon would come for her. Equinox approached.


© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/when-angels.html (21 of 22)8/15/2005 12:05:30 AM

Coyotes Never Die - Crimson Dragon

Coyotes Never Die © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Coyotes Never Die (MF, group, cons, rom, oral) ======================================================================== (c) May 2001 - All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== "... and within the currently negative economic climate, our outlying branches will be forced to aggressively upscale their production while downscaling expenditures. These graphs will show the revenue percentiles for each of our twelve hundred and eighty-six subsidiaries ..." The atmosphere in the room was dry and cool. Light filtered lazily from overhead fluorescent fixtures interspersed with harsh halogen spotlights. Not a single window graced the drab four walls. Erin stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, settling back to her original pose, elbows resting on the table, chin cupped in her upturned palms. Her eyelids threatened to close, but she forced them open with an effort, shifting her weight and re-crossing her legs. The monotone from the suit standing at the front of the long conference table droned on. And on. In a scene that would have impressed even the Coyote, an old blacksmith's anvil dropped from the ceiling, smashing through the fluorescents, and landed squarely on monotone man's head with http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (1 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


a sickening crunch. Erin blinked and then gasped as the room fell eerily silent. Near the head of the table, the only other woman in the room, a vice-president, leaned over the edge of the table where the stricken speaker had fallen. Recently promoted, young, dynamic, daring, and blonde, the VP had an exotic name that Erin failed to recall from her earlier introduction. As the well-dressed girl straightened from inspecting the carnage, her lips set in an easy smile, she spoke to the quiet room. "Hi-ho, the windbag's dead," she giggled. Erin shook her head, brunette hair dragging across her designer jacket. She blinked, but the vice-president and the remainder of the table didn't disappear or change their expressions of relief. The vice-president slowly stood, her hands planted on the gleaming mahogany of the tabletop. She smiled at Erin. "With the windbag finished, maybe we should start ..." The woman began to unbutton her dark grey jacket. "Sh-shouldn't we ... call 911?" Erin stammered. Why wasn't anyone else pulling out their ever-present cellphones and dialling? Why wasn't anybody performing first aid? The vice-president slowly shook her head as the jacket dropped crumpled to the floor. Erin began to rise out of her chair, only to drop back with the gentle touch of the man beside her. Johnson, wasn't it? Without moving, Erin watched as the tall, blonde, poised woman continued her striptease, slowly removing her clothing until she stood bare at the head of the table. Without fanfare, the VP climbed up onto the table and stood easily there, hands on her bare hips, high heels planted amongst the former speaker's notes. The other ten executives in the room were all male; all eyes, including Erin's, remained glued to the nude vice-president atop the table. "Erin?" the woman spoke, her voice husky and low. Erin couldn't find her voice, no matter how much she wanted to scream or move. Some higher force kept her quagmired in molasses. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (2 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


The sultry voice continued. "Care to join me?" Erin shook her head savagely. Suddenly, she became aware of all the eyes in the room resting on her. Pushing herself back into her plush leather seat, she tried desperately to control the flush that she knew was rising into her features. Her breasts rose and fell under her blouse and jacket with the increased tempo of her breathing. "Feel free to join in," the girl standing on the table said with a smile. With that, she heeled off the fashion footwear, leaving herself barefoot. Slowly, she dropped to her knees, crawling through the paper on the table-top, her knees pushing the useless statistics to flutter towards the floor. The naked girl kissed the executive who had been seated across from her. The man hesitated only a moment before responding, kissing the lady enthusiastically, his hands rising to her pert breasts. Erin's breathing had increased, her body clamouring insistently. The vice-president lay on her back at the head of the table, legs spread wide, her lips parted in a moan of ecstasy. Men in various states of undress pawed at the naked woman as she squirmed on the table. One executive, Johnson perhaps, had his head buried between the woman's thighs. Gently, the woman extracted herself from the men, rising to her knees. She looked back at Erin, still rooted to her chair. "You're missing all the fun." Erin shook her head again, found her voice. "There's a dead man up there." Such a comment should have torpedoed any party. But like everything about this strange experience, the girl failed to lose her easy demeanour. The naked vice-president cocked her head to the side, absently brushing away the latest penis to be offered her way.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (3 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


"Erin, deary, when did the Coyote ever die?" That didn't make any sense. Erin, in a flash of anger, stood and stalked through the orgy until she stood at the head of the table. The men parted for her passage, like the sea before Moses. Nobody blocked her; nobody tried to touch her. She stared at the floor. No monotone man. No gruesome, head-caved-in, boring executive. The anvil lay harmlessly on its side; the man's pointer lay broken beside it. "When? How?" The lack of a stricken victim seemed to release her sexuality, previously reined in by confused distress. Her breathing came in short bursts; her nipples cried out for a touch, any touch. She could feel her excitement rising as if she weren't in control of herself any longer. "See?" the vice-president cooed from her position in the middle of the table. The girl sank to her hands and knees and crawled up the table while the males watched her without interfering. What was her name? Something starting with an 'L'? As the crawling girl reached the edge of the table, she again rose up on her knees, her eyes level with Erin's. Her fingers reached towards the designer jacket, slipping through Erin's hair on their path to Erin's buttons. Christ, she shouldn't be doing this. Not here. Erin's fingers refused to brush away the naked woman and her jacket fell to the floor without a protest. "Coyotes never die," the woman whispered. The soft touch of the girl's lips sent electric shivers pulsing through Erin's body, finally converging in the small bundle of nerves hidden between her legs. Christ, she shouldn't be doing this. She moaned, as her fingers reached for Johnson's erection, and the naked woman still kneeling on the table let her tongue travel down Erin's soft throat to slowly circle her left nipple. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (4 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


"Erin?" The electric pulses fired through her nerves. Johnson's penis remained hard and yet soft at the same time. She wanted to touch it, stroke it. With her tongue. "Erin?" She wanted to drop to her knees, let them all touch her, satisfy her. She needed ... "Erin?" ... she needed that annoying voice to stop interrupting her enjoyment of ... "Erin? Are you all right?" Her eyes fluttered open, and she offered a small scream to the boardroom. Her face flushed automatically as she glanced around at the twelve pairs of eyes glued to her. She cringed back into the chair. The vice-president, fully clothed and as professional as she always was, wore a concerned look on her face. "Are you all right?" she repeated. Erin swallowed, the daydream vanished, but her body still insistently complaining. Unaware of the rude transition from fantasy to reality, her body desperately wanted to be touched. No amount of mental coaxing was going to convince her clitoris of the difference between this dull boardroom and her daydreamed orgy room. The monotone windbag had ceased presenting, his restored pointer aimed towards graph three-hundred and forty-two. "I'm fine. I'm sorry." "You looked flushed, dear. Are you sick?" Erin glanced around at the eyes. Could they see her arousal, her nipples like diamonds beneath her jacket? Could they see what had transpired in her mind? Had she uttered anything incriminating? Erin nodded. Suddenly, her stomach performed a few cartwheels. Her nipples and her clitoris steadfastly refused to abate their insistent throbbing.



"I ... I think I need some air." The vice-president nodded and leaned back in the chair. "It is warm in here," she remarked. Erin began to gather some of her notes into her briefcase. "Erin?" Erin looked up, not having to feign being unsettled. "What does 'coyotes never die' mean?" "I think I really need some air." The woman nodded, turning back towards the monotone speaker, who continued, presumably where he'd left off at Erin's interruption. Quietly, Erin slipped out through the double oaken exit doors. The vice-president gave her a reassuring smile. "I hope you feel better," she whispered as the heavy doors closed behind Erin. Erin leaned against the doors, her head tilted back until the pulse beating in her temples began to lower into a reasonable range. After a few minutes, she began to walk slowly towards the elevator. Along the route to the elevator, she dipped her head into a water fountain, drinking greedily. After her throat was satisfied, the shakes receded from her body, and she glanced back towards the boardroom. The image of the female vice-president kneeling naked on the table returned full-force. Erin's swollen nipples and clitoris began to ring their resounding bells again. She glanced towards the elevators. They descended all the way to the parking garage. Her eyes returned to the heavy oak doors of the boardroom. They beckoned. One thousand, two hundred and eighty-six subsidiaries? After a moment, she made up her mind. Under the gentle pressure of her index finger, the small down arrow lit up like a turn indicator, but pointing ninety degrees in the wrong direction.



The warm desert air whipped through her hair like a tornado. A compiled eighties compact disc competed with the rush of the wind to exhilarate her ears. The '67 Mustang convertible hummed across the blacktop, her hands nearly effortlessly guiding the tuned machine, and her destiny, along the dead-straight road. The blacktop almost seemed to extend forever through the sand dunes and cacti, only the occasional transport thundering by her with a rush of wind to keep her company. Her thoughts turned to the stuffy boardroom in the hotel. A three day conference? Ending with mindless statistics? God! He was probably still prattling on. No wonder she conjured up some fantasy. She felt sorry for the executives still stuck in the windowless room. But enough of that, she was free. She laughed. A plane, while faster, could never replace this: the wind ruffling her, the open desert air. It would be hours before she arrived, but it was worth it. He would be waiting for her. The jacket had long since left her shoulders, fluttering in the wind trapped in the back seat. Her shoes hadn't taken long to join them. Driving barefoot? Wasn't that illegal? She didn't care, and after the daydream, she wanted desperately to remove the rest of her clothing, tossing her modesty and inhibitions carelessly into the wind. Erin resisted that urge with a pang of regret. While she probably wouldn't get arrested for driving barefoot, she might for driving naked. Her nipples voiced their approval for the thought, though, and she forced her fingers from rising to caress her breast through her blouse. No. Time for that later. Drive, m'lady. Drive. The wind caressed her as the car rushed on through the warm afternoon. The warmth began to seep from the air as soon as the fiery ball in the sky kissed the horizon. Off to her right, a small pack of dog-like creatures loped through the desert under the dying light. Traffic was sparse here, but she no longer cared if a trucker received a cheap thrill, and she had no fear of coyotes. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (7 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


Her blouse, skirt and underwear lay neatly in the otherwise empty passenger seat. Her body had throbbed, mostly in anticipation, as she had removed her clothing while the Mustang idled at the side of the road. Stripping while behind the steering wheel had been a challenge, but the urge had been irresistible, like a tsunami. Her body was going to have to suffer. While she knew her fingers were more than capable of easing her body's frustrations, she needed to hold off sweet release. He would be waiting for her. The leather of the seats felt strange to her bare skin. She loved the car, but surprisingly had never made love in it, so the seats were virgin against her skin. She cherished the softness of the leather for a moment. A transport loomed large, like a lumbering dragon, in her side mirror. She unconsciouly covered her breasts with her arm until she realised that such false modesty wasn't necessary in the middle of the desert. Coming from behind, the trucker was unlikely to see her charms anyway. After the transport passed with a roar of engine and dust, she opened her door. The gravel and sand of the shoulder soaked residual heat into the soles of her feet. The tick of the engine merged with the hum of the dusk insects. She touched the hood of the Mustang. It was warm, but not hot enough to burn. Her lips set in a smile, she crawled slowly to the centre of the hood, settling down cross-legged facing the horizon. Residual engine heat suffused her through her bare skin. She sighed. Her pose reminded her of the naked vice-president perched on red mahogany, beckoning, and the image brought a broad smile to her lips. Someday, she'd have to remember the name of that lady, though telling her about the daydream might be too much. Her palms upturned on her knees, she settled her eyes towards the setting sun. The last rays of the dying afternoon sun warmed her chest as purple and crimson kissed the bottoms of the cirrus clouds high above. Another transport, rushing in the opposite direction, broke the silence with a quick touch of its horn. Erin waved, but didn't allow her eyes to leave the sunset painted before her.



"I'm on my way," she whispered. The Mustang sat cooling in the driveway, its engine finally resting, ticking into the cooler night air. Erin stood barefoot on the wooden porch, staring at the door. Within, she could hear the faint sounds of a sitcom, and she could see the bluish flickering of the television against the sheer drapes. Her shoes dangled from her fingers, and her jacket draped over her opposite shoulder. Dusty and tired, she sighed. She needed a shower, but not yet. He wasn't expecting her so soon, should be delighted to see her. Probably wasn't expecting her home with only one thing on her mind, either. She grinned. Maybe she would strip out of her clothes right here, right now. Enter naked. She glanced right and left. No sign of neighbours, but that didn't mean anything. Time enough to strip down. She'd waited this long. The door opened to her fingers, easily, the familiar touch of the front door ceramic cool against her bare feet. "Honey, I'm home ..." she called. His voice echoed from around the archway, distracted by M*A*S*H or some other classic show. He rarely watched the drivel that passed for television produced today. "You're home early." She placed her shoes gently on the ceramic by the closet. Her fingers finally unbuttoned her blouse, began to push her skirt from her hips. Her underclothing remained in the Mustang, long discarded with the departure of the afternoon. After her remaining clothes littered the hallway at her feet, she stepped lightly towards the television room. He sat in a chair, faced away from her, eyes glued to the flickering screen. He didn't turn as she leaned easily against the entranceway, but he sensed her presence.



"I missed you. Did you have a good trip?" he asked. Her nipples transformed to diamonds, erect and tough enough to scratch glass. She ran her finger over her right nipple and shivered -- not hard, but soft and aching. "Awful trip. Except for one vision and the car ride." "I was waiting for you to have dinner. Do you want to order in? Pizza?" "Later." Erin entered the room, her bare feet silent on the flooring. She slipped around his chair, settling at his feet, her hands clasped over his jeans. When his eyes finally fell to her, they opened wide. "Oh," he exclaimed quite unnecessarily. After recovering, he stroked her hair. "You're home early." "Not early enough." "You didn't speed to get home, did you? It's a long trip, nine hours, isn't it?" "Seven and fourteen minutes. And that's with a stop to watch the sunset." She paused for a moment. "Naked." His eyebrows raised. "You know that driving that fast is dangerous, don't you?" She shook her head, fingers reaching for the button on his jeans. "Coyotes never die," she whispered. Rising up on her knees, she leaned forward, her bare body rubbing against his clothing. The television winked off as she kissed him. She shivered as their lips touched, her body aching and insistent. "Oh God," she moaned as his fingertips found her nipples. Her fingers burrowed into his shirt, stroking gently at the skin there. This long road, unlike the endlessly straight blacktop under the Mustang, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/coyotes.html (10 of 12)8/15/2005 12:06:00 AM


wound lazily through the scenery, and she travelled it with pleasure. At her destination, his tongue gently toyed with her, his fingers entering her seductively. Her first cry of release brought a smile to his lips, and tears to her eyes. After her third climax in as many hours, Erin lay panting, exhausted but satisfied. "Latrans," Erin whispered. Her breasts rose and fell as she struggled for breath. "La who?" "It's her name. Latrans. Exotic, isn't it?" He shook his head slowly as if the female of the species would always exist to confuse him. Resigned, he sighed gently with a shrug of his bare shoulders. Erin smiled as his fingers again found her bare skin, caressing gently. She groaned softly. "What?" he whispered. "Coyotes never die. But ... mmmmmmmm ... the road ... runner ... usually ... gets ... ahhh ... what she needs ..."




Inverness - Crimson Dragon

Inverness © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact I · II · III · IV · V · VI · VII · VIII · IX · X · XI

======================================================================== Inverness - Part I - Endings (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

The bartender at The Portal could have passed as a professional wrestler, but the bar refused to shiver as he settled his weight onto his forearms in front of the girl sitting alone at the far end. She hesitated a moment, fully aware of his presence, before she raised her green-grey eyes slowly to capture his. He faltered for a moment withering under the intensity of her gaze, but eventually found his tongue. "You look lonely, tonight, Alison," he observed in a voice only raised loud enough to overcome the amplified strains of Soft Cell and the revellers dancing frenetically behind her.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (1 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


She slowly shook her head, her black tresses dancing about her shoulders. Her eyes never left his. After a time, he lowered his eyes, almost as though ashamed of disturbing the girl. A brush of her fingers on his forearm pulled his eyes back to her face. "Don't want to talk about it, CL. Not tonight." Her indifference was unusual, as was the lack of a smile upon her lips. He nodded understandingly, a gesture honed by years of serving drinks to friends and strangers alike. Without asking, he topped her wine glass with a golden mead brew unique to the Portal. He gave her a weak smile and straightened himself. Alison watched the big man as he ambled back down the bar, nodding at happier clients and passing out bottles of Molson's or Labatt's to clutching hands. The bartender set the flask of mead almost tenderly onto the smoked glass shelves behind the bar, before laughing and mixing an evil looking concoction of Sambuca and Vodka for a girl that barely looked old enough to drink. Alison sipped at the sweet liquid in her glass, sighing. Her eyes returned to trace the grain in the bar. Her lips followed Soft Cell in their final refrains. "Where did our love go?" Alison rubbed at her eyes. The smoke hung like a palpable fog in the atmosphere of the bar. She coughed gently, covering her mouth with her left hand. Her fingers had worked most of the stinging from her eyes, but she knew that she would have to take a long, hot shower to rinse the stale reek from her hair when she finally summoned the courage to leave her sanctuary. And her clothes were going to need to be dry-cleaned. She shrugged and sipped the last drop of mead from her glass. Patrons now filled the bar, bodies jammed together like sardines in a tin. Though she had some breathing room at her corner of the bar, the dance floor was brimming with nubile bodies gyrating to the amplified music spun by the female disc jockey. The DJ had an unusual name, spoken once in one of her infrequent interruptions of the music. Alison struggled to remember it, grasping at names as they flipped through her mind. Chantal? Celia? Yes, Celia.



Celia was currently spinning an oldies set, the dancers far too young to remember the artists, but loving the music anyway. Del Shannon, followed by Buddy Holly, followed by the Supremes, followed by the Bobby Fuller Four. If she remembered Celia's patterns, she'd probably drop into an 80's set after her four-song oldies indulgence. The man entered The Portal as Bobby Fuller discovered that fighting the law wasn't always a winning strategy. Alison wasn't the only woman to raise her eyes to the entrance to watch the tall, lean presence saunter into the establishment; however, she was the only woman that the man lifted his eyes to capture. She shivered under his gaze for a moment, but refused to look away. He flashed Alison a quick smile with a slight incline to his head, then slipped effortlessly through the crowds of inebriated patrons, finally settling into a miraculously unoccupied booth. She blinked, sure for a second that the smoky haze of the bar had parted for his passage. His image shimmered, almost as though he weren't fully in this plane of existence, then solidified. Before she could determine if she was hallucinating, a slurred voice broke her out of her daze. "Exchuuuse me, mish, I...I couldn't help noticing you sitting all by yourshelf over here." The man speaking to her smelled heavily of Jack Daniel's, his mouth only inches from her face. She recoiled a little, then composed herself. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed CL stand up a little straighter, his posture becoming more severe and protective. She'd already let two suitors down easy and they'd wandered off without too much trouble. In other circumstances she might have been flattered by the attention, even by drunken idiots with lame pickup lines, but tonight she simply wasn't in the mood. She debated letting CL take care of this one for her; CL had a certain finesse with especially drunken or persistent slobs. Instead, she held her fingers up in a steady pattern. CL relaxed, but she could tell that he was still watching her. "I like being alone." The drunk considered that for a moment, actually leaning in closer. Alison gagged at his breath, backing away, somewhat afraid that the guy was going to plant one on her. CL began to walk towards her end of the bar. She was dimly aware of other patrons around her, beginning to stare.



"Sooooo," he oozed, undeterred.

"Do ya wanna fuck me, then?"

Without thought, her fist rose, connecting solidly with his jaw. He staggered back, rubbing at his face. She stroked at her closed fingers, trying not to cry out at the pain that had blossomed there. "Bitch," the man exclaimed before staggering away from her, still rubbing his injured jaw. She turned back towards the bar, seeing CL motion discreetly towards the entrance where the bouncers stood at ease, scanning the crowd. After getting the attention of one of the heavily muscled men, CL pointed at the oblivious drunk, stumbling against other patrons. "You okay?" CL asked as he ambled up to her. She nodded, tapping her glass. He had the flask with him, and automatically poured some of the mead into her glass at her request. "Never seen you hit one of them before. Not even a ladylike slap," CL noted absently, but with some admiration. "He'll live." CL nodded, glancing over his shoulder. The crowd that had watched the drunk get tossed had turned back to the bar, clamouring for more alcohol once the diversion had exited. "Gotta run." back."

CL jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"But I'll be

Alison looked up as CL dropped two wine glasses in front of her. tilted her head, letting her eyes enquire. "The Bomb."

She

CL grinned.

"Should I ask?" "You don't want to know what's in it.

But the name's appropriate."

"Then let's try 'why'?" "Because he bought it for you."



"Huh?" CL jerked his head towards the mystery man still seated at his booth on the other side of the bar. Alison had surreptitiously been glancing over at the tall man since he'd swept into the place. Feigning interest, Alison followed CL's motion, squinting through the haze. The man wasn't watching her, hadn't so much as glanced in her direction since his entrance as far as she could tell. Instead, his head was turned towards the collection of dancers behind her. Celia was spinning The Bad Touch. The song always made her smile, but instead of following the mystery man's gaze, she returned her eyes to CL. "Who is he?" "I suspect you'll find out." "Why'd he buy me a drink?" CL shrugged, and raised his eyebrows with one of his patented do-I-need-to-answer-such-a-stupid-question looks. She ran her teeth across her bottom lip. "The Bomb, huh?" "Said you might need it. Supposed to shoot the first one, then chase it with the second. Then, if you are still standing, eat the orange." She gingerly pushed the wine glasses back to the inside edge of the bar with her fingertips. A quick smile played across her lips, the first one all day. "Tell him...I don't need it, and I'm not interested." CL nodded, picking up the glasses, one in each hand. "I already did, but he insisted." She slowly raised her mead and sipped at the sweetness. She glanced back at the booth. As far as she could tell, the stranger hadn't looked at her throughout the entire exchange.



She watched the waitress thread her way through the packed patrons towards the booth. Alison didn't want to watch, but her eyes were drawn to the girl's back as she raised her tray with the two wine glasses and the slice of orange high above her head with a practised ease. The tall man didn't look surprised at the waitress' presence. He merely accepted the drinks with a hint of a smile, and tipped her. Her face was aglow on the return trip through the crowd. When Alison returned her eyes to the booth, the man was looking towards her. She started a little, but didn't drop her gaze. With a smile, the man raised one of the wine glasses and downed it in one long swallow. His image shimmered for a moment, then the remaining contents of The Bomb disappeared. He popped the orange into his mouth, and as though dismissing her, he turned away to resume watching the dance floor. Alison shook her head, and turned back towards the bar. Alison shivered as her booted foot touched the concrete. Small chunks of ice crunched under the soles of her feet. The pounding of the bass stretched through the doors and spilled over the sidewalk, echoing through her ribcage and rattling her lungs. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself despite the faux fur coat she had donned before exiting the bar. It was too early for taxis, and besides, the cool air would do her good. The apartment would be far too empty tonight, but she had nowhere else to go, and it wasn't a long walk. Once outside of the influence of the bass, her footfalls echoed up and down the nearly empty street.

======================================================================== Inverness - Part II - Enter The Dragon (FF, fantasy) http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (6 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

There was no menace in his stance, no indication that he was any threat to her well-being. Nevertheless, she stopped abruptly as she spotted him sitting casually on the steps of her apartment. Twenty-five years of being female instilled an instinct of caution. He didn't wear a coat, seemingly oblivious to the cold of the December night. His eyes weren't travelling her body; in fact, they were watching the light traffic in front of the street, seemingly ignoring her and her unease. At last he glanced towards her, his eyes capturing hers, not resting on her breasts as most did. "Alison," he began. androgynous.

His voice was firm and sure, but somehow

She was taken aback that he knew her name, but she supposed that CL might have told him. But she doubted it. Trying not to show her discomfort, she managed to keep the waver out of her voice. "I appreciate the offer of the drink, but I thought I was pretty clear." The man nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. "You were.

CL didn't tell you who I am, did he?"

"You know CL?" The man nodded.

"He's...an acquaintance."

She glanced about nervously, planning possible escape routes.



"You realise that I'll scream to wake the dead if you move any closer." The man laughed softly but not unkindly. "Alison, I'm not here to rape you, or harass you. You've obviously never been to Inverness. Tell me the word, and I'll disappear. Forever. You'll never see me again. There isn't any need to scream." Alison relaxed a little, but still warily kept her eyes on the man. "Aren't you cold?" she asked. She was having trouble keeping her own shivering at a standstill since she had stopped walking. The man shrugged.

"Dragons don't really get cold," he murmured.

The remark made no sense, but she chose to ignore it for now. took a deep breath.

She

"I'm not going to stand here all night," she sighed. She shifted her weight from one booted foot to the other. The man began to walk down the stairs, carefully keeping his distance from her. She stepped up on the first step, tensing as he passed. "Alison?" She stopped, three steps from the entrance. "There is magic, you know?" The man had bought her a drink, had bothered to find out her name, and remembered it, and hadn't done anything untoward, hadn't even tried any lame pickup lines on her. She wasn't really interested in company, especially not the kind of company one finds in The Portal, but the apartment was going to be unbearably empty tonight. A whole lot of girls in that bar were probably sleeping tonight with the first somewhat attractive guy who had said, "You'll do." She sighed softly. "Mystery man?" She turned as she reached the top step. the bottom.

He was waiting patiently at

"You want a coffee?"



Silently, he nodded and slowly climbed up the steps after her. She hesitated a moment before unlocking the door, her hand resisting turning the key. Then she shrugged and plunged, pushing the door open with a quick motion. The man followed her in, closing the door behind, but not letting it slam. "So, where's Inverness? Isn't that in Scotland?" She kicked off her boots, and hung her coat in the small entrance closet. She turned to face the stranger. He nodded.

"There is an Inverness in Scotland; beautiful place."

Alison sighed. know mine."

"I guess I should know your name, since you seem to

At this, the stranger smiled. "I'm known by many names, but lately Crimson Dragon seems to suffice." She stared at him.

"You're kidding."

"You can call me what you wish. accept the consequences."

When one is enigmatic, one must

She sighed and began to walk towards the end of the hallway. Mister Dragon, you'll have to excuse the mess."

"Well,

The small apartment was far from messy -- merely lived-in. Crimson settled easily into an overstuffed armchair. Alison remained standing. "What would you like to drink?" "You have ice water?" Alison looked at him strangely.

"Cheap date?"

Crimson shrugged easily and grinned. "Not sure this is a date, but if we're going to be doing tricks tonight, I'm not sure I want any more alcohol, and I don't drink coffee." Alison shrugged and padded into the kitchen, returning a moment later



with two tall glasses of water. She handed one to the man, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. Curling up in the corner of the sofa, she turned her attention to the mystery in her armchair. She tilted the glass against her lips. "Crimson Dragon, huh?

Where does one get a handle like that?"

"I'm an author," he smiled. The two water glasses sat empty on the carpet. "Josh left, you know? Three days before Christmas. Nice huh? We talked for hours, staring up at the ceiling, knowing the sun was coming up, knowing how it was going to end. He slipped out from the sheets, kissed me, dressed, gathered up his things, and...just left." Her tears had long since dried, her voice a monotone, her eyes scanning the whiteness of the ceiling for irregularities. She turned to Crimson, who was still listening intently to her. "Glad you asked?" The man took a deep breath and nodded as though he had been fully aware of her story before asking about it. "You needed to talk, methinks. She shook her head. He smiled at her.

Are you feeling better?"

"Not particularly." "You will."

She gathered her thoughts and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. She had made her decision long ago, but even so, her voice wavered. "Do you...do you want to...go to bed?" The man considered her words for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "Alison, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but...I'm not right for you. I'm only a messenger, a chauffeur if you will." Puzzled, she looked at him.

Suddenly, an inexplicable anger suffused



her. It wasn't so much the gentle rejection as it was a selfish reaction. She hated the internal forces, but was helpless to stop her fingers. With a set look on her lips, she slowly released the buttons, her fingers moving from her chin between her breasts to the base of her blouse. The cloth dropped from her shoulders to fall in a crumpled heap on the carpet by the base of the sofa. Her naked skin glowed in the indirect light from the streetlight outside her window. Crimson smiled at her, his eyes still upon her face. She could feel tears beginning to well as her anger melted. She reached for her blouse. "I shouldn't have done that," she murmured. His words stopped her.

She raised her eyes to his.

"Alison, I understand, truly I do. Solstice?"

Did you know that today is

She brought her fingers back from reaching for the discarded cloth, but crossed her arms protectively across her exposed chest. She shook her head negatively, confused by the question. Crimson didn't seem to notice her actions or her nudity. He glanced at his watch. She blinked away her tears, sure that the timepiece had shimmered from a rather masculine digital watch to a dainty gold woman's watch. When she opened her eyes again, it had changed back to the original digital watch. "You've never been to Inverness," he stated. of good. Forget Josh." "Not Scotland?"

"It would do you a world

Her voice wavered.

"Not Scotland." "Where then?" "I suspect you'll find out." She pressed herself back into the sofa. Fascinated, she watched as his left hand shimmered, losing its human flesh and was briefly covered by scales the colour of blood. As she blinked, the hand morphed into a slender female hand, its nails painted the colour of a candy apple, before returning to the large, strong masculine hand it had been.



Instead of commenting on her hallucinations, she merely asked the creature, "When?" He looked up at her, his expression serious. "Any time you're ready.

Solstice just passed."

He lay easily on his back on her bed, as shirtless as she had been only moments before. His hands entwined behind his head, raising his pectorals and defining his biceps. She found herself wanting to run her finger down his skin, to touch him, but she stood with one hand on the far bedpost, balancing on one foot, watching him. Her blouse hung loosely off her shoulders, two buttons securing it carelessly between her breasts. His lips moved silently, eyes closed, words indistinguishable. She gasped as a light wind plucked at her jeans at her calves. A light, as bright as a sapphire, swirled on the edge of her vision. "It's a portal." His voice was warm and surprising, tickling her ear. She turned towards the blue wind that was not wind, and then back towards the Dragon. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded silently, and allowed him to guide her to the swirling blue light. Beyond, she could see glimpses of rich browns and greens, and sunlight. "Inverness?" she asked. The creature nodded. "How will I get back?

Are you coming with me?"

The Dragon smiled kindly. "I...have other invitations to make. particularly wilful one that won't be easy. The Queen."

A

He made no sense, but she didn't really care. She turned towards the portal, feeling the gentle tug of the breeze generated by the heatless light. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (12 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


"How will I get back?

If I go?"

"I will be there shortly, whether the Queen agrees or not. Or you can ask any of the writers. They can all return you. But it is Solstice; the celebration will be tonight. Enjoy." She pondered that for a moment, then she glanced at the empty bed, rumpled where the Dragon had enchanted. In a burst of self-consciousness, she reached up on her toes and brushed the man's cheek with her lips. Without another word, she stepped firmly into the blue fire and fell off the edge of the world.

======================================================================== Inverness - Part III - Falling (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

She was screaming, her eyes squeezed shut, as she noticed the nature of her tumbling subtly change. She let out another yelp and landed on something soft and yielding. The smell of freshly cut hay suffused her as she opened up her eyes to bright sunlight. What looked suspiciously like a hayloft door opened in front of her, giving her an unobstructed view of unspoiled country. A cloudless, blue sky extended as far as she could see, speckled by fields and forests of emerald green. She slowly checked her arms and legs for damage, and finding none, crawled slowly to the doorway. The sweetness of the air



filled her lungs and she sighed, settling back into the piles of dry hay. The hay tickled her nose and she sneezed softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Geshundheit," a gentle female voice spoke behind Alison. Alison spun in surprise, rising up on her knees. She stared at the girl casually sitting against the far boards that made up the wall to the loft. The girl was in her late teens, perhaps early twenties, brunette hair cascading over her shoulders. And she was completely and utterly naked. Her bare legs extended easily into a patch of sunlight streaming through the hayloft door. Another stripe of light streaming between the wallboards cut across her bare breasts, bisecting her right nipple. Her mouth was set in a friendly grin, and she didn't seem bothered by Alison's open stare. She laughed quietly.

"Most people say 'Thank-you'."

Alison opened her mouth, and snapped it shut again. The girl rose to her knees and shuffled through the hay towards Alison, her feet making shallow indents as she moved. She stuck out her hand in mock seriousness. "You must be Alison." "How...?" "I'm he's that time

Mercury, and Crimson asked me to wait here for you. I see that up to his old tricks again. Knew it was going to be trouble when portal opened so high. Janey just about killed the creature last the Dragon did that to her."

Alison glanced up to see the portal closing slowly about two metres off the ground. "Mercury?

But you're...you're..."

"Naked?" "Um.

Yeah.

Don't tell me that creature dropped me into a nudist



colony. I only took my shirt off because..." Alison's voice dropped off as she realised that she was telling this stranger far more than was necessary. Somewhat belatedly, she realised that her hand was unconsciously gripping her blouse that remained buttoned, but loosely, between her breasts. But the girl was so very naked. Mercury laughed quietly.

"You've never been here before, have you?"

Alison shook her head, suddenly feeling like her first day in University -- a little lost and very confused. Mercury continued, "It's pretty laid back here. If you want to wear clothes, you do. If you don't, you don't. Pretty simple." She eased herself back down into the hay, entwining her fingers behind her neck. "And you don't." Mercury smiled up at Alison, gently shaking her head. dotted her brunette hair. "No.

I don't, though when Miranda insists..."

Bits of hay

her voice trailed off.

"Who's Miranda?" Mercury propped herself up on her elbows. "Miranda sometimes thinks that I should be more modest when meeting newcomers. But they all get used to it eventually--if you want, I can put on my clothes." Mercury waved over towards the far side of the loft where a set of jeans and a white blouse lay crumpled in the hay. "Doesn't bother me...I...was just concerned..." Mercury laughed quietly. "Crimson didn't tell you anything about Inverness, did he? That creature can be insufferable." "He said that I should enjoy some sort of celebration...Sol..." "Solstice." "Yeah." "You'll enjoy Solstice.

More food, women, and song than you've ever



seen. Solstice is a magic time, but really it's more of an excuse to party." Mercury grinned as if fondly remembering. Alison relaxed a little, shifting and leaning back against the boards, feeling their roughness behind her back. Her legs were warming in the sunlight. "Where's the snow?

It's like early summer here."

Mercury spoke to the barn roof, shrugging her shoulders into the hay. "So you came from a cold December, then?" Alison nodded, but Mercury missed the cue. The naked girl continued obliviously. "I'm not a writer, but it's always like this -- like late spring. Sometimes Mat or Celeste wants a rain shower, but mostly it's clean and warm. Makes it nicer for those of us who prefer to run around bare." "The air smells...different." Mercury inhaled deeply, her breasts rising.

She smiled.

"No pollution here. The air is the way it ought to be. must come from a city."

Clean.

You

Alison sighed, nodding quietly. "One second I'm in my apartment, the next, this guy, who isn't a guy, is making a portal in my bedroom." Mercury raised her eyebrows. Alison blushed.

"Bedroom?"

"Wasn't like that.

Really."

Mercury turned a sceptical look at Alison. "Really," Alison repeated almost wistfully. Suddenly, Alison didn't want to admit that she was the one that had been rejected, that the Dragon hadn't done or said anything inappropriate. "Crimson is a different breed. place," Mercury mused.

Sometimes I wonder if she runs the

"She?" http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (16 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


Mercury gave Alison a puzzled look, then grinned. always what she appears."

"Crimson isn't

"Crimson is female?" "When she wants to be.

Depends on the mood of the Dragon."

It made no sense, but the image of the female hand with the candy-apple nails resurfaced in her mind. "Damn funny looking lady," Alison muttered. Mercury smiled. "You've never seen Crimson in female persona, have you? Funny looking isn't quite appropriate." Mercury paused reflecting on something private, then continued. "Maybe she will be a he for Solstice. Ought to be interesting. So, you want to explore the place?" Alison glanced down at her wrist where a watch should have been. "I think Crimson stole my watch." Mercury's brows furrowed a little. "The worst crimes here are spamming, and some thievery, though why people steal is beyond me. All of value is free here. Anyway, Crimson isn't a thief. Or at least I don't think she is." Alison swallowed.

"I...I didn't mean..."

Mercury turned her head to face Alison, laughing a little. "Did you say 'watch'? Crimson probably just conveniently left it topside when you dropped. Last time Crimson brought me here, I conveniently lost a wardrobe." She paused for a moment. "You don't need a watch, Alison. Very little depends on a clock, at least here. Whereas people won't blink if you wander around in your birthday suit, they will wonder why you are wearing a timepiece." "My body feels like it's four in the morning." The weariness in Alison's body began to protest the idea of exploring. By the look of the place, it wasn't a small territory. "Probably is, for you. We can stay here, if you like. I don't have to be anywhere until later, closer to the celebration. You want to sleep? Hay is always comfortable." Mercury stretched out in the sun,



her bare body reminding Alison of a contented feline. Alison nodded, her desire to understand not overwhelming the need for some rest. Her eyelids scratched across her eyeballs. She watched as Mercury closed her eyes, sighing. Alison lay down, pulling her knees up and cradling her head against her hands. Sleep came quickly. She was naked, the sheets tangled around her legs, her nipples pressing against satin. Josh dressed silently beside the bed. watched him, determined not to allow the tears to fall.

She

"Good-bye," he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her. Without a word, she turned aside, feeling the lips brush against her skin. As he moved away from the bed, she watched his retreating back until the bedroom door clicked shut. Then the tears slipped silently down her cheek, burning the place where his lips had touched her. The door creaked open. "Josh?" And she was there. A diminutive girl, naked, barefoot, her brunette hair wrapping around her shoulders and obscuring her exposed breasts. She padded to the chair, sitting silently, regarding her with sadness in her eyes. She turned her attention back to the doorway. The Dragon stood in the entrance, blood scales shimmering in the pale light of the hallway. While she watched, the creature morphed into a tall woman, red hair cascading damp across her bare shoulders. A red towel wrapped her from her breasts to kiss the tops of her thighs. Her fingernails were painted the colour of candy-apples. The woman was barefoot, her mouth set in a reassuring smile. "Josh?" She sat up, oblivious to the satin falling away from her bare breasts in a puddle of sheerness. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (18 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


With the hint of a smile, the Dragon morphed again, assuming the tall, dark male from The Portal. His blue jeans fit snugly, his chest bare. Slowly, gently, he moved forward, until he knelt on the bed beside her. The other girl was gone, disappeared as if by a magician's hand. The desk chair watched empty as the Dragon bent, his lips falling, brushing at her own. She felt heat suffuse her body, her nipples tightening, her clitoris throbbing, beating to a desire that she didn't even know she had. Alison awoke with a small scream, her hands reflexively pressing the soft, bare skin from her. Gentle, precious lips left her own with a sigh, but she wanted them back. Badly. Her hand entwined behind his neck, entangling in long, dark hair, pulling him forward. The softness of the lips touched hers, and she kissed back eagerly. "Well, I see you're awake," a female voice spoke quietly broke. Alison could feel warm, sweet breath against her smell of clover, honey, and hay infused her. She felt a desire rush through her body and she opened her eyes, at

when the kiss face. The stab of last.

Alison screamed, scrabbling back until her back pressed into the wall of the hayloft. The small cracks between the boards were not large enough to admit her. Hay scattered from her frantic flailing. Mercury knelt, still gloriously naked in the elongated, but attenuated, patch of sunlight streaming in through the hayloft doorway. "I'm sorry," Mercury whispered.

"I...I didn't mean..."

Alison caught her breath, the vestiges of desire still pounding in her chest. "You..." "Kissed you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. You weren't ready. And you were asleep. I...shouldn't have." The girl seemed ready to cry, tears brimming in her lower lids.



Alison licked her dry lips. "It's all right." She didn't know if it was, or even where she was, or what was real and what not. All she knew was that her body was aching. A tear slipped down Mercury's cheek, her hands twisted together in her lap. Alison raised her eyes, her voice a little stronger now. "Mercury?" The naked girl looked up slowly. Alison plunged on, not sure why, or how. "I...I didn't mind. I. I just thought it was someone else." "Josh?" Mercury's voice hitched. Alison nodded, agreeing to the lie. Mercury the truth.

It was easier than telling

Mercury wiped away the wetness on her right cheek, swiping at her eyes almost savagely. "Alison, I am sorry. I'm just more used to Inverness. Usually, I'm better at this -- maybe that's why Crimson asked me to wait for you. But you were whimpering, calling Josh, and I...just didn't think. I'm sorry. I'll leave, if you want, get someone to take care of you." Alison's finger against her lips shushed Mercury. Alison wrapped her arms around Mercury, her chin resting on Mercury's shoulder. The sunlight had dimmed considerably; dark clouds formed across the horizon. "It's going to rain," Alison whispered. Alison slowly pulled back, looking into Mercury's eyes. stopped crying, but her breasts were still hitching.

The girl had

Was it only a few hours ago? Unlike the events on her sofa, this time there was no anger, no selfishness. Alison's fingers shook slightly, but the buttons between her breasts unclasped easily and without protest. "I've never been with a woman, before," Alison began. Her nipples had tightened, and her clitoris screamed for attention.



Mercury, nodded, free. Her fingers tickled the back of Alison's neck, drawing her closer. Bare nipples touched as Alison's lips brushed at Mercury's. Soft. Yielding. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the first drops of rain struck the worn boards of the roof with a sound that reminded her of a girlhood summer home in spring. The girls lowered themselves into the hay. The constant patter of raindrops against the boards of the roof eased. To the east, the sky was lightening noticeably. Alison could hear a single drip of water from the roof above, falling steadily but slowing as its source dried. The monotone reminded her of water falling through forest leaves. She lay with her chin propped in her hands, her bare breasts pressing into the soft hay. Her bare feet rocked slowly through the air. The green, wet, countryside spread out in front of her like an idyllic panorama. Hay and the light scent of clover filled her senses. She glanced to her left. Mercury had settled into an identical pose beside Alison, only centimetres away. Alison reached out, gently running her finger through Mercury's hair. "Wow," Alison whispered. Mercury sighed, turning on her side to face Alison, propping her head up on her left hand. She smiled. "I think...I think you'll fit into Inverness just fine."

======================================================================== Inverness - Part IV - Journey (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001



All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

Alison watched as Mercury pulled blue jeans over her hips and slipped a white blouse over her shoulders. Mercury didn't bother to button the shirt, and as she moved, enticing flashes of skin presented themselves. Alison shook her head, trying to quell some of the shivers. Mercury looked up, raking her fingers through her locks. She grimaced. "I know better than to make love in the hay..." she mumbled. She absently picked bits of hay from her hair. She turned her eyes towards Alison who remained sprawled, naked, on her back. "Aren't you going to get dressed?" "Do I have to?

Can't we stay here?"

Mercury grinned and sank to her knees. She shuffled towards Alison, picking up the girl's clothing as she went. She pressed Alison's jeans and blouse into her hand, bending easily to brush at her cheek. Then she straightened and peered into Alison's eyes, smiling gently. "Well," Mercury began with a gentle grin, "you certainly don't have to put the clothes on. And we are certainly free to stay here if you really want to." She paused, her eyes focusing beyond Alison's face, as though on a distant memory. She continued, "But, we'd miss the celebration, and I need a shower, and we need to meet with Mat, maybe Celeste, maybe Celia, and..." Alison sat up, suddenly conscious of her nudity. And the name 'Celia'. Why did that ring a bell? She spoke hurriedly as she pulled her blouse over her shoulders and buttoned it loosely between her breasts. "All right, all right, I get the idea...but it would be nice to stay here. Where's my underwear? And socks?" Mercury smiled and gave her another quick kiss on the lips before rising to her bare feet. She absently kicked at the hay, stirring up motes that danced through the returned sunlight. "First of all, it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (22 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


would be wonderful to stay here. I love it here. Secondly, I think we lost your panties sometime after your first climax, and without shoes, what are you going to do with socks?" Alison bit at her lower lip, thinking.

"Can we buy shoes, here?"

Mercury laughed and shook her head, "If you like, when we see an author, perhaps we can ask. Maybe Crimson will show up, and give you a new wardrobe." The last comment generated an easy, knowing smile on her lips. "If you get a choice in the matter. Besides, you'll be freer without shoes. I dislike 'em myself." "You hate clothes, in general." "True." Alison stood and pulled the faded blue jeans over her hips, buttoning them and smoothing her top over the waistband. Mercury was bent over near the wall where Alison had first seen the girl. She was hunting through the scattered hay for something. With a satisfied grunt, Mercury straightened, pulling a metal ring set into the rising floor. "Voila." Alison walked through the hay to Mercury. The trapdoor led downwards, a solid wooden ladder extending into the dim interior of the barn. A rainbow shimmered to the west. It shifted from crimson red, to emerald green, to ocean blue as the girls stood outside the barn watching in awe. Like the colours of the soul, Alison thought to herself as Mercury silently reached for and clasped her hand. Under other circumstances, she might have been self-conscious of holding a stranger's hand in public, especially another woman, but the land seemed to invite the openness. When in Rome... The air smelled like rain in the Kawarthas, a sweetness and freshness suffusing the breeze. Shades of green surrounded the barn, though any crop cultivation seemed foreign. Forest and fields of grass, hay, and wildflowers appeared to be the purpose of the farmland where the girls stood.



The ground was solid and dry beneath her bare feet, the humid air the only indication of the spring storm. Mercury's voice broke her out of her trance. "Judy!" Mercury waved her hand in the direction of one of the fields with wildflowers. As Alison followed the direction of the wave, a blonde head of hair rose from the lush green. "Mercury!" the girl shouted back, raising a hand in greeting. "I'll be with you in a minute." She ducked back down, out of sight, amongst the flowers and grass. Mercury grinned, turning back to Alison. methinks." "Who's Toby?

"Toby's in there, too,

Who's Judy for that matter?"

A muffled female cry rose from the general direction of where Judy had disappeared. Alison couldn't tell if it was a cry of distress or passion. She wasn't sure that she particularly wanted to find out. "Toby was with Judy when I arrived. Judy hasn't been here long either. Crimson mumbled something about her needing a diversion, and then disappeared. I left them alone. See what they get up to?" The blonde girl had risen, like a child of the field, her hair decorated with wild flowers. She looked flushed, a pale wine colour infusing her cheeks all the way to brush at the top of her nude breasts. A male head briefly popped into view at Judy's thigh, just long enough to wave a greeting to Mercury. "Yup, Toby," Mercury whispered to Alison. Judy walked swiftly through the field to where Mercury and Alison stood, still with linked hands. "I hope I didn't rush you," Mercury called to Judy as she approached. Judy shook her head, losing a few flowers on the track to the barn. "Toby wasn't going to last much longer anyway." She sighed. "And Celeste's rain kind of cooled us off a while back." As she had emerged from the field, she revealed her complete nudity, from her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (24 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


toes to the top of her head. She didn't seem self-conscious at all. As she approached, she gave Mercury a quick kiss on the lips. "You're wearing clothes." Mercury frowned. "Yeah, Miranda threatened me, again. responsible for that little storm?"

So Celeste was

Judy laughed. "You know Celeste. She said something about rain being sexy, and the next thing we know, downpour. I'm sure that she had fun with it, somehow. And the rainbow was a nice touch...since when do you listen to Miranda?" Mercury laughed, "I don't, but I thought it would make Alison a little more comfortable. We've got some people to see." Alison slowly shook her head, a flush beginning to invade again. Judy turned to Alison, holding her hand out. Alison shook the proffered hand. Judy had a strong sure grip. "You must be Alison. Crimson told me he was going to bring you to the celebration. Did you have fun in the hayloft?" Alison blushed, sure that her face was going to burn her. She released Mercury's hand with a stab of guilt. Judy whispered conspiratorially, "I love the hayloft." Alison glanced over at Mercury. The girl was smiling gently, but she'd stiffened a little as Alison had released her hand. A soft touch guided her hand back to Mercury's. Her fingers automatically interlaced with Mercury's and she could feel some tension drain from Mercury through the touch. She looked down to see Judy's fingers leaving the joining. Judy smiled at Alison. "Mercury might be a little wild, but she's pretty choosy about who she f...befriends. And as you'll discover, that means something around here." Judy turned to Mercury. "They're expecting you two back at the castle, I think. Sondra wanted to talk to you and Celia, something about the music, and timing of the entrance." Mercury grinned.

"We both need showers anyway."

"Sondra said that she'd meet you in the showers." "Figures.

Listen, you'd better get back to Toby before he dies of



blue balls, or something." "Oh, he'll be fine, I'll make sure of it, but he's fast asleep by now." "You can come with us," Mercury offered. Judy considered it for a moment, then shook her head. "Naw. I can use a nap too. Probably going to be a long night. You'll both be at the celebration, won't you?" "Have I ever missed one?" Mercury grinned. Judy laughed.

"Nice to have met you, Alison.

I'll see you tonight."

With that, Judy turned around and began to walk back into the field. As Mercury and Alison began to walk towards the west, the rainbow shimmered once, turning a perfect shade of royal purple before easing back into clouds that were breaking up over the horizon. The castle spires reached for the clouds, beckoning to unknown worlds above. Sunlight sparkled off a clear turquoise moat surrounding the stone walls of the structure. Alison halted as the girls emerged from between the forest trees. Mercury stopped ten steps ahead as she realised that Alison was no longer beside her. "That's where Crimson lives?" Alison whispered. Mercury laughed gently, retreating back to where Alison stood transfixed. "It's where we all live.

Sort of."

Alison lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the path. Her fingers absently brushed the dust from her bare soles and massaged them. Her eyes never left the castle. "Are you his mistress?" Alison asked. Mercury laughed again.

"There you go with that 'his' again."



"Are you her mistress?" Mercury slowly lowered herself onto the path facing Alison. She slowly shook her head. "Despite what you might hear, I am not anyone's mistress." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Mercury touched the girl's hand gently. just wanted you to know."

"I'm not easily offended.

I

"It's just that..." Mercury cocked her head slightly, almost like a cartoon character illuminated by the proverbial light bulb. Her easy smile faded slightly. "Alison, sweetheart, there's something you need to know..." Alison interrupted with a slight smile. "Um. Male. Female. It doesn't really matter to me." She grinned shyly as a flush rose through her cheeks. "Well, not anymore." "It's not that..." Alison suddenly looked worried, her smile fading. I...I barely...I didn't think..."

"Me and you?

But

Mercury sighed and reached forward, gently picking up Alison's unresisting hand in her fingers. She gently pressed Alison's skin to her lips, brushing the girl as a lover. "I love all my partners, truly and deeply, but no, one cannot be jealous in this land." She waved her arm vaguely in an all-encompassing motion. "Inverness isn't...built that way. There is magic here." She paused, closing her eyes, almost as though wishing for something that could not be. She continued quietly, after a few moments, eyes remaining closed. "Crimson. Crimson isn't available." Alison was quiet as she contemplated the distant spires. "You aren't..." "No."



"Have you had him? "Had her?

Her?

Whatever?"

Like known her?

Had sex with her?"

Alison nodded, her eyes not leaving the castle. "Neither," Mercury replied in a quiet voice. "We've have plenty of fun, and I wouldn't trade it all for the world, but I really don't think anyone ever really knows her. Except maybe for one person, and she isn't here. Not in Inverness." Mercury's fingers gently guided Alison's chin until their eyes locked. Alison was a little surprised to see dampness near the corners of Mercury's eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt.

Inverness isn't about hurt."

Alison forced her lips into an easy grin, and nodded her head. "Thanks," she mumbled. Mercury rose to her bare feet in one easy motion without using her hands, like a lioness ready for the hunt. Once steady, she extended her hand down to Alison who grasped it and pulled herself to her feet with a grunt. "God, I wish I had my shoes." foot to the other.

Alison shifted her weight from one bare

Mercury smiled as she reached for Alison's hand and they continued their journey.

======================================================================== Inverness - Part V - Challenge (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved



Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

The number of people that they encountered steadily increased as they approached the castle. Some were garbed in tunics, some in modern dresses, or jeans. Some were nude, some topless, some bottomless, some wore strange translucent robes. Mercury waved to all, calling most by name as they passed. Many commented jokingly on Mercury's state of dress. "Hey, Claudette," Mercury waved easily to a naked girl of about fourteen approaching along the path. "It's good to surprise them once in a while by wearing clothing," she whispered to Alison as Claudette waved once and performed a double-take as she skipped passed. "Most of them have to check again to make sure it's me." Mercury seemed to enjoy the notoriety she was generating. Alison, for her part, was beginning to get used to the casual nudity abounding. While she wasn't sure that she would be prancing around in her birthday suit anytime soon, she was certainly getting used to seeing people unashamed about their bodies. As they approached the drawbridge, Alison again stopped, and it took a moment for Mercury to realise that Alison was no longer beside her. "What?" Mercury asked as she turned and trotted back. She followed Alison's gaze towards the east. Mercury laughed, gently pressing Alison's jaw up until he girl's teeth clacked together. "You want to try that?" Mercury asked quietly. Alison shook her head slowly, unable to tear her eyes from the scene. A copse of birches stood a number of metres from the main path. A petite brunette stood with her back firmly against one of the trees. Even from this distance, the whiteness of the ropes that criss-crossed her body, between her breasts, around her bare thighs, was acutely visible. Her face radiated tranquillity and peace. A naked redhead knelt in the grass at the tied girl's feet, her fingers caressing the restrained girl in front of her. "Is she OK?" Alison whispered.

"The brunette?"



Mercury laughed gently, tugging on Alison's fingers. she's just fine."

"Oh, I think

A nagging throb raced through Alison as she accepted the guidance of Mercury's fingers. She glanced back once as they moved further down the path. She thought she could hear a faint moan cross the distance between the pairs of girls. "If you catch their attention, they'll probably invite you to participate," Mercury whispered with a grin. "Yuck." Mercury's features settled into one of her understanding looks. "We can try it later, perhaps less publicly, if you want." Alison didn't reply, but the throb beat an insistent rhythm between her legs. "Most of the people here are women," Alison commented as the drawbridge drew close. Mercury shrugged and leaned in conspiratorially. don't you think?"

"It's much quieter,

The warmth of rough boards of the drawbridge was a welcome change to the hot dust of the path. Alison sighed as her bared feet noticed the change of texture. Mercury straightened and continued, but quietly. "There are plenty of men around, though. This isn't Lesbos, after all. Women just seem to be better at adapting to Inverness. More susceptible to magic, and more open, I suppose. At least that's what Crimson says. Personally, I think she just prefers the company of women and tends to offer them more passage to Inverness. You're here, aren't you?" Alison nodded, but looked up at a sudden interruption from above. A male voice boomed a challenge from the ramparts above the drawbridge. "Who goes there?" Mercury stopped and looked up toward the voice; her lips broke into an http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (30 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


easy smile. "Malinov, you old dog, you know damn well who we are. is a free port. Why the hell are you on guard duty?" "My lady, I know not of what you speak.

And Inverness

Identify yourself."

Mercury turned to Alison shaking her head. She had to contain a quick laugh at the look of dismay on Alison's face. "Don't worry, Malinov is always cooking up one scheme or another. Says it makes for good stories, and his works are in the library. I've read 'em. Worth a look." Mercury uptilted her face again. Sunshine illuminated her features. "My Lord," she spoke in a clear, strong voice tinged with a mild humour. "By what authority do you challenge us?" Alison noticed a few people gathering on the near side of the drawbridge apparently waiting for Malinov's game to finish. Alison shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Strange lady, there is a security ordinance. yourself and your compatriot."

Please identify

"You know damn well who we are," Mercury repeated under her breath then raised her voice again to the unseen male. "We are neither thieves, nor spammers, and you know it." The male voice continued. "All unknown travellers must identify themselves. See-el's orders." Mercury turned towards Alison lowering her voice, again. "Now you see why there aren't many males around? We could just walk in." Alison could see a large, green courtyard just beyond the portcullis. Some people within, in various states of dress and undress, were watching the exchange with some interest. Alison shook her head.

"Why don't we then?"

"The game is fun," Mercury replied enigmatically. wall. "Malinov, you know damn well who it is.

She again faced the

It's Mercury, and a guest of



Crimson's, Alison. Now, let us through. We need to start preparing for Solstice. We're tired, and dirty, and..." "Solstice?" the male voice boomed. "Solstice.

And don't tell me that you don't know what Solstice is."

"My lady, you are not the Mercury that we know and love." "Huh?" Mercury glanced down at herself at though expecting a different image than the petite brunette that remained standing barefoot in the middle of the drawbridge. The voice continued in a firm baritone. "The Mercury that we know wouldn't be crossing the drawbridge in that state." Mercury shook her head in mock frustration. "Sometimes you authors can be frustrating, you know that? If you wanted a view, why didn't you just say so?" She actually stamped her left foot against the wood of the bridge. "And your compatriot.

Clementine, was it?"

"Alison," Mercury corrected. "You know who she is as well as I do. And she's not going to flash you, so forget it." Mercury's fingers began to fumble at the buttons at her breasts. After leaving the barn, Mercury had fastened two buttons loosely between her breasts to stop the translucent fabric from flapping in the wind. With a smile on her face, she released the buttons and held the fabric apart, thrusting her bared chest towards the unseen wall. She sighed. "Good enough?" A kind chuckle issued forth from the wall, and a dark-haired head sporting a helmet reminiscent of the Vikings emerged from behind the upper ramparts. "Why are you wearing clothes, Mercury? goat?"

Miranda finally get your

Mercury snapped the fabric back across her breasts, quickly re-fastening the buttons; her bare skin hid amongst the folds. nodded. "Maybe I decided to regain my modesty." Malinov laughed.

"Modesty?

You?"


She


"It's been known to happen," Mercury said with a wry grin. People began to pass the two stationary girls, apparently determining that the game had played its course. "What about Clementine?" Mercury glared up at the writer-guard. Alison trembled a little. Exhibitionism wasn't really her game, either. Though around here, she might have been tempted to follow Mercury's lead, if it were necessary to pass into the castle. Malinov didn't seem to be perturbed by the others now passing the girls and entering below the portcullis unhindered. Mercury's hand entwined with Alison's, giving her a squeeze of reassurance. "She's not flashing you, Malinov. And her name is Alison."

She's new here, as you well know.

Malinov's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Clementine, my lady, welcome to Inverness." The man above tilted his head in greeting. "Don't let Mercury get you into too much trouble." "I won't, sir," Alison replied. "Sir? Christ, I'm not that old," Malinov muttered. Everyone else does."

"Call me Malinov.

"May we go in now?" Mercury asked in an exasperated voice. "Sure, what's stopping you?" Mercury shook her head with a smile, and tugging on Alison's hand, resumed walking under the guard. "We'll see you tonight, Malinov," she called up as they passed. I'll be more in the state you are accustomed to."

"And

"Happy Solstice," he replied with a small wave before disappearing into the wall. After passing under the entrance to the castle, Alison sighed as her feet encountered soft, green grass. Perhaps ten couples were spread across the small entrance courtyard, most lounging under trees, or



lying on the grass together. Some were naked, others were dressed in more modern attire. One couple was kissing under what looked like an old oak tree. One group of three naked girls, sitting cross-legged in the grass, waved a greeting to Mercury and Alison as they entered, but then turned back to a conversation involving a great deal of quiet giggling. "Who the heck is Malinov?" Alison asked as they made their way across the grass towards another archway on the other side of the court. Mercury stopped, tilting her face upwards into the sunlight. She answered to the sky. "Malinov is one of the writers around here." "So he could have given me shoes?" Alison worked her toes into the grass, not sure anymore that she still wanted shoes anyway. Mercury laughed. "I did."

"Didn't you hear him call you Clementine?"

Alison's voice conveyed her confusion.

"Why do you think he did that?" Alison shrugged. "Malinov has a warped sense of humour, sometimes. he would probably have given you the shoes."

If you'd asked him,

"Would I have had to flash him for them?" Mercury laughed. let us in here?"

"You think he demanded to see my chest before he'd

"Didn't he?" "Alison, no dear. We could have walked right past, and the worst that would have happened is that Lord Malinov might have been a little disappointed. Well, if he had been serious in the demand, he'd probably be banished. Inverness isn't like that. We are all free here. Writers really aren't any different from you or I, they merely can create magic -- give you a new wardrobe, for instance, whether you want one or not. But other than that, they aren't any different from us. No, Alison, Malinov asked me because he knows me. Knows that I don't mind playing his games, and would gladly show nearly anyone my boobs in a heartbeat. I normally walk around buck naked, remember? Hell, I would've stripped for him, if he'd asked. If it makes him http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (34 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


happy, and it's fun, why shouldn't I? And besides, he'd be the first one defending my honour if someone was trying to take advantage of me." Alison nodded, but wasn't quite sure that she fully understood. "So, I wouldn't have to expose myself for shoes?" Alison made a gesture to walk back towards the drawbridge. Mercury's hand on her shoulder gently stopped her. "You wouldn't have to pay anything. No. And Malinov up there would give you what you asked for in a heartbeat, with a twinkle in his eye. But you probably would end up with boxes without tops's that you couldn't remove from your feet until he took pity on you, sometime after midnight." "Huh?" "Malinov's humour. And besides, you've done without for the walk here, and you certainly aren't going to want them where we are headed. Ask Crimson when the infernal creature returns. Okay?" Alison nodded as the girls continued to cross the courtyard. "Where are we going, anyway?"

======================================================================== Inverness - Part VI - Cleansing (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================



The smell of peaches and damp mist touched Alison's senses as Mercury held the heavy oak door open for her. She stepped through, a little self-conscious of the warm stone beneath her bare feet. She was far more used to 'No Shoes - No Service' signs than the more welcoming 'No Clothes - No Problem' attitudes in Inverness. "May I take your clothing?" The voice belonged to a small Oriental girl seated behind a long polished counter that reminded Alison of the bar at The Portal. The girl wore a simple, white tunic draped over her shoulders, though in the humid, warm air, it clung to her small frame like a lover's embrace. Alison felt Mercury's presence beside her as the entrance doorway quietly closed behind them. "Huh?" Alison uttered in confusion. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Mercury edge around her and approach the counter with a smile. As Mercury walked, she shed her blouse as if that were the most natural thing in the world to do. After the drawbridge, Mercury's display didn't exactly surprise Alison. Mercury's jeans slipped daintily over her hips, leaving her as bare as when the girls had first met in the hayloft. After carefully folding her clothes, Mercury handed them to the girl behind the counter. "Here you go, Daphne," Mercury said as she gave the girl a smile. The girl laughed.

"You're wearing clothes?"

Mercury muttered something under her breath, then turned to regard Alison. "You can't shower like that..." Mercury began. Alison shook her head slowly. Mercury grinned and continued. "Actually, it might be interesting to see that top plastered to your skin." Alison slowly approached the counter, placing her hands on top of the gleaming surface. The girl holding Mercury's jeans and blouse smiled gently. "You're new here, aren't you?" Mercury performed the introductions. "Daphne. Alison." She turned towards Alison. "Daphne won't lose your clothes. I promise."



"But..." "Showers are better naked, you know." With a sigh and a blush, Alison began to unbutton her clothing. The blouse slipped from her shoulders, and the jeans slipped down her legs to pool around her ankles. She was about to step out of them when the interior door opened with a blast of steam. The smell of peaches intensified for a moment. A naked man stepped through the doorway, dripping water onto the grey stone of the lobby. He shook his head, spraying warm water. Alison quickly slipped one arm across her breasts, her other covering her exposed pubic region. She flushed bright red, could feel the heat suffusing her breasts. A moment later, the doorway opened again, a tall, slim, nude and just as wet woman stepping through to link arms with the man with a laugh. "There's men in here," Alison whispered urgently towards Mercury. Mercury glanced over her shoulder and was laughing as she turned back around. "Um. Yes. So? It's only Mat. And Theresa, I think." She tried to pry Alison's arm gently from her chest. Alison resisted. "Uh...naked men, naked women, what do you think will happen?" Mercury laughed again. "Are you the same woman that walked with me to the castle? You can still ask that?" "Yeah, I wasn't naked at the time." "You were naked with me." "That's...different."

Her voice wavered a little.

"What's the worst thing that would happen?" "He'll look at me." Mercury grinned evilly. "No, the worst thing that would happen is this." She raised herself up on her tiptoes and planted a moist kiss right on Alison's lips. Alison moaned quietly, at both the unexpected kiss, and the touch of Mercury's bare skin against her own. "And even if Mat did that, which he wouldn't without invitation, his



lips wouldn't hurt you any more than mine did." With that, Mercury turned around. She waited for a moment, waiting for the guy to stop kissing the naked girl he was with. "Mat, my dear?" Mat released Teresa, who looked none too pleased, and smiled at Mercury, who strode purposely toward him. They embraced quickly, spoke a few words. Teresa and Mercury exchanged a brief kiss. Alison noted that while Mat and the woman were still dripping, the water was either absorbed or disappeared where it would have touched the stone of the floor. Strange. To Alison's horror, Mercury led the couple back towards Alison, who was still standing awkwardly protecting her modesty as best she could. The man named Mat smiled at her. "Mercury tells me you're new." He stuck out his hand towards Alison. Alison gazed at the hand, not removing her arms from their protective posture. She almost glared at the man, as if aware of his tricks. Mat sighed. "Still not used to Inverness, eh? I understand. Janey is like you, too. And I was a little unnerved the first time I was here. Not really used to this public exposure thing." Alison relaxed a little. Like her earlier encounters with the Dragon, Mat's eyes never left hers, not dropping to inspect her nearly bare body at all, no threatening gestures. "Glad to meet you," she mumbled. "Mat generally introduces Solstice, with Crimson. Holds quizzes. Edits strange publications," Mercury said. She turned towards the man. "You are going to introduce the Solstice, aren't you?" Mat nodded.

"At moonrise.

As usual."

"Who's the Queen?" "You mean Teresa?" Mercury laughed, and performed a small courtesy. Mat's companion nodded and smiled, but didn't say anything. "Teresa's the Solstice Queen?" Mat shook his head.

"Don't know.

Maybe Janey, if Crimson can



convince her to come, and agree to lead the ceremony. Maybe Katie. We won't know until the library."

Maybe Celeste.

Mercury nodded. "Are you coming to the library this year?" Mat asked. Mercury shook her head. "And miss the pre-moon celebrations. library is for the writers. You know that."

The

"You've got an open invitation. Even if Crimson doesn't invite you this year, I certainly will." The girl behind the counter handed Mat two bundles of clothing and two towels, one of which he handed to Teresa. They each casually wrapped the towels around themselves. "I know," Mercury said. blushing and shivering.

She glanced over at Alison who was still

Mat casually waved his hand at Alison. She didn't notice the jeans rise, but suddenly they were again buttoned snugly at her waist, not pooled around her ankles. She remained topless, but her arm still protected her breasts from view. "I truly am glad to meet you," Mat murmured to Alison, brushing her cheek with his lips. The touch reminded her of Josh, and she fought for calm. "I hope that you'll take those jeans off before going in there. You'll be much more comfortable." He tilted his head towards the doorway. His fingers brushed at her arms, now both crossed across her chest. She allowed him to press her arms away, exposing herself. She noted the small smile that graced Mercury's lips as her body became less covered. Her nipples crinkled involuntarily as they wandered into view. Mat's eyes never dropped from her own, even as her arms lowered. "You aren't anything to be ashamed of," Mat murmured quietly. The air was cooler here; in fact, she could feel her nipples reacting to the cool as she followed Mercury from the steamy showers into a wide room through large wooden doors with iron hinges and handles. It



was quieter here, too, leaving behind the pounding of many showers and the moans of activity from the communal shower area. The room was furnished in red, from a thick, red carpet beneath her bare feet, to the mirrored ceiling reflecting the carpet from below, to the Victorian chairs placed in the corners of the room. The chairs were unoccupied, but the room seemed to exude a presence of some sort. Alison dripped onto the carpet, but like the lobby floor it seemed to dissipate the water. Her feet weren't standing in a sopping wet carpet. The centre of the room was dominated by a large hot tub, full of bubbles. Tendrils of steam rose from its surface, inviting and warm. A girl, no more than twenty, rose from the mountains of bubbles like a naked Madonna. The bubbles covered her to the throat, her breasts, if bare, hidden from view. One bare foot sat propped on the side of the tub, emerging from the bubbles. The girl's head tilted back, eyes closed. At first, Alison assumed that she was asleep. The girl's voice was cheery, inviting. "Mercury.

Alison.

Lots of room."

Mercury smiled as she knelt beside the girl's head. She kissed the girl on her lips before sitting down on the edge of the tub, swinging her legs through the bubbles. "You were expecting us, Sondra?" The girl raised her head, her blonde hair damp but still attractive. She opened her eyes. They were a deep shade of brown. "Have you ever missed a Solstice?" "Before Crimson invited me." "That doesn't count, and you know it." Sondra's finger traced Mercury's thigh. Mercury motioned Alison to come and join the girls. Alison stepped forward, seating herself beside Mercury. The water in the bath was far warmer than the showers had been. Her calves and toes sighed at the warm, intimate touch. The bubbles smelled strongly of peaches.



"Crimson told me you both were coming, earlier," Sondra began. least this time, Janey didn't fall on me."

"At

Mercury looked at the girl strangely, and then shook her head. "I don't want to know." "One of Crimson's portals." "Ah." Mercury grasped Alison's hand and pulled her gently into the bubbles. The warm water pressed into Alison's skin. She sighed. There seemed to be room for twenty in the tub. Alison tilted her head back, in the posture that Sondra had adopted when they'd entered. She closed her eyes. Flashes of conversation, some nonsensical, touched her. "...See-El out tracking some spammers with Anne..." "...hayloft out at the old barn..." "...Malinov made me flash him, too..." "...Clementine..." A soft laugh. "...banquet.

Lots of mead..."

"...Celia jockeying mostly.

Crimson might perform..."

"...girls walking through the canyon..." "...Queen...Janey..." The voices faded. Peaches. Disoriented, she awoke to a warm sensation suffusing her body. It was a moment before she realised that she was still encased in bubbles, hot water touching her intimately. She moaned quietly.



A finger. Then another softly stroked her bare breasts, lightly twisting the rapidly hardening nipples under the surface of the water. A pair of lips brushed at hers, then another, slight smells differentiating the two women that had kissed her in quick succession. A tongue traced the contours of her lips. Her hands rose as if of their own volition, her fingers touching bare breasts, midriffs, vaginal lips. A finger traced her thigh somewhere below, caressing her calf, playing with her toes. A pair of fingers entered her. A tongue, impossibly underwater, caressed her throbbing clitoris. She cried out. Peaches. The orange glow of the setting sun lit the room like a huge bonfire, the light flickering, and shadows elongating. Sondra slept quietly, her head cradled in the crook of Alison's arm, her bare skin curled up against Alison, her blonde mane still slightly damp and smelling of peaches. Her breath was warm and comforting against the bare skin of Alison's right breast. Alison turned her head, feeling her hair drag against the softness of the pillow. Through hazy white gauze, she could see Mercury seated naked in one of the room's three chairs, her elbows resting on the windowsill. The girl seemed lost in thought. A fresh breeze fluttered the canopy, and Sondra shifted position slightly. She wondered where Josh was? What he was doing? Did she care? Anymore? She stared up at the canopy, its undulating whiteness soothing. The Dragon? Where was he? celebration.

Surely he would return before the



After four climaxes, not counting the hayloft, she didn't think that she could be aroused ever again, her body aching pleasantly, but satisfied. But there it was, a low heat down below her waist. She could see him, seated in her armchair, so far away, curled up, listening to her cry. So long ago, and yet, so close. She shifted her position slightly, pulling her thoughts from the Dragon. And she was surprised to realise that she was hungry. She laid back her head and closed her eyes, sleep not encompassing her, but the rest welcome. Presently, she felt Mercury's slight weight settling back into the bed beside her. "Celeste's rain caused a spectacular sunset," Mercury murmured. "That's probably why she did it." Alison nodded, opening her eyes. The naked girl sat easily on the side of the bed, the canopy wrapping itself around her nudity. Mercury leaned down and brushed at Alison's lips, igniting yet another tingle through Alison's spine. "Are you all right?" Mercury asked quietly. "Fine, now," Alison whispered back. "Crimson said that you needed Inverness." "I...I think that I did," Alison closed her eyes again. She felt Mercury shift to lie down on the pillow beside her. Mercury's breath caressed her cheek, and her fingers gently stroked the bare skin of Alison's shoulder. "It'll be dark soon.

The celebration will be starting."

Alison nodded. Her free fingers reached for Mercury, who sighed as they traced the curve of her breast. Mercury reached up and entwined her fingers with Alison's, stilling the touch.



======================================================================== Inverness - Part VII - Celebration (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

The room had darkened considerably when a soft tapping at the door disturbed her. She opened her eyes, feeling Sondra stir and roll away from her shoulder. Pins and needles pricked at her arm as the nerves there reanimated. A cry nearly escaped her lips, but she managed to stifle it. She sensed, rather than saw, Mercury rise from the bed beside her, swinging her bare legs to the floor. Mercury recoiled a little with a hiss as her bare feet touched the stone. "Going to be cool tonight," Mercury muttered. Alison reached for the down coverlet and pulled it over herself, snuggling beneath. She tucked the edge around Sondra who snuffled, but didn't completely wake. Mercury didn't bother to bend for her jeans or blouse, but slowly unbolted the heavy oaken door, peering around it. "Crimson," she whispered, opening the door wide. Alison's eyes widened as the tall man pecked Mercury's cheek and slipped into the room. A tall, dusty blonde woman, dressed in a white tunic, but barefoot, followed the creature in. The woman shifted her weight from foot to foot, as if her feet were cold, but she leaned forward to give Mercury a full embrace and a lingering kiss. The women whispered for a minute, and then Mercury twirled quickly stepping to where Sondra slept.



Sondra's eyes fluttered open as Mercury gently shook her shoulder. She rubbed at her eyes slowly, and stretched like a cat. "I was sleeping," she mumbled. Mercury tugged insistently at Sondra's arm, coaxing the girl into a sitting position. The coverlet fell from her chest. As usual, Sondra didn't mind the exposure, but merely yawned and stretched again, oblivious to the male presence in the room. "It's cold," Sondra complained, wrapping her arms around herself. Even Alison could see that Sondra was cold. "You'll be warmer soon." Mercury turned to Alison who remained curled up under the covers. Mercury whispered to Alison, "Sondra and I are going to take another quick shower with Janey, okay?" "You're leaving?" Mercury shook her head and leaned over Sondra, who lightly protested. Mercury brushed at Alison's cheek with her lips. "We'll be back, soon.

Promise."

She straightened, and waited impatiently for Sondra to rise, her arms crossed under her breasts. Alison pulled the covers up to her chin and sighed as the other girls padded out of the room. The door closed with a quiet click, leaving her alone with the Dragon. A faint blue aura surrounded the creature as he lightly moved around the room. She saw no matches, but as he passed a hand over the candles, they lit as if by magic. The candles didn't shed much luminance, but the flickering of the light seemed to warm the room. The Dragon settled into the chair formerly occupied by Mercury, sitting as she had, elbows resting easily on the window ledge. He gazed outwards, but seemed to be looking further than Mercury had, seeing something beyond the realm of mortals. "They are beginning to gather," he whispered.



Alison shivered and closed her eyes. Her mind awhirl, she visualised Mercury sitting cross-legged in front of her, her lips moving, "Crimson isn't available." She sighed and opened her eyes. "The offer is still open," she spoke quietly across the distance from the bed to the chair. The Dragon shifted slightly, turning his frame toward the girl who remained under the covers. He took a deep breath, a vast weight pressing onto his shoulders. His words were kind, and almost apologetic. He had understood her offer. "You honour me, m'lady. But you know that I am merely the messenger, the chauffeur." His words echoed a time that she could barely remember. A pang of homesickness briefly welled through her. Deliberately, she pushed the covers down, away from the base of her throat, her eyes never leaving his. Her nipples crinkled as the cooler air of the room caressed them. His eyes never wavered from her face. "You created this place, didn't you?" The Dragon leaned back into the depths of the chair. She could see the shimmering of his form tripping from soft female curves, to glistening scales, and back to the hard masculinity that he embodied. It didn't take her aback as it had the first time she'd seen it. "Partly.

I created some of it."

"You control it." "Partly." "Who else?" "Many.

Few."

The Dragon paused for a moment.

"You."

She thought about that for a moment, had to fight the desire to pull the covers back over her breasts. Slowly, she nodded though she didn't completely understand. "Why did you bring me here?" "You chose to come here.

I only gave you the means."



"You sat on my stairs in the middle of winter and gave me exactly what I needed. Why? Why me?" "Because you needed it." She sighed.

The Dragon shrugged.

The creature was infuriatingly enigmatic.

"The offer is still good." She felt the fingers of her left hand lightly trace her bare breast. She shivered. The Dragon turned away, gazing out the window. A light bass beat filtered past, tickling Alison's ears. She sighed again. "Did you enjoy yourself? With Mercury?" he asked her, though he spoke to whatever lay beyond the window ledge. Alison blushed a little. "And Sondra. Yes," she spoke quietly. Fresh hay. Thunderstorms. Bubbles. Satin sheets and down coverlets. "But I wanted one other," her eyes stared at the creature. Crimson turned back towards her, cocking his head to the side, his mouth turned in a small, teasing smile. "Josh?" She shook her head negatively, a serious expression on her face. "M'lady," he spoke as he rose to his feet. "Would that I could. I am truly sorry." His head parted the canopy, his lips brushing at her cheek, easing the rejection. "Why?" she asked simply. He brushed her cheek again, a fire burning where he had touched her. "Lady Alison, you know why." She nodded.

She supposed that she did.

The floor was cold against her bare feet. The candles flickered against her curves as she stood easily, one hand resting upon the canopy support. Her nipples ached.



Crimson regarded her with a little more interest as she bent to pick up her blue jeans, where they had been discarded in the early afternoon. Her blouse, she plucked from atop the canopy. Clutching her clothing in front of her breasts, she glanced back at the Dragon, allowing a small smile of satisfaction to creep into her features. The man wasn't dead, at least. She'd caught an appreciative glance as she'd bent to retrieve the jeans. "One last chance." She didn't really expect a positive answer, and wasn't disappointed when he again shook his head. She bent to slip the jeans over her bare foot. "Alison." His words stopped her with the jeans midway up her calf. She raised her head to look at him again, her eyes silently questioning. A shiver passed through her thighs. "Don't dress, yet.

Please?"

She considered for a moment, then lowered the jeans back to the floor and lightly stepped out of them. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious being the only one naked in the room. Her arms desperately wanted to cover her; she willed her arms to remain awkwardly at her sides. "Changed your mind?" The creature smiled indulgently at her. And she sighed again. "I suppose not. Why did you want me unclothed, then? It's nippy in here, in case you hadn't noticed." She glanced down pointedly at her nipples. He nodded.

"Indulge me."

She shrugged and waited. He watched her for a moment, then waved his hand towards her, speaking in ancient tongue. The dress hadn't pulled over her head, or slid up her body, but rather it was simply there, suddenly encasing her bare body. It was midnight black, fitting her curves perfectly. Her shoulders remained bare, the light fabric swirling around her ankles. She turned slowly. "Do I have to be home by midnight?" she asked quietly. The Dragon laughed kindly.

"You certainly do not.


Indeed, you don't


have to wear it, if you don't want to." "I'm not sure I want to go naked." "You look nice naked, but I meant..." And he pointed to her old jeans, and blouse, which lay still crumpled at her feet. He rose to his feet, crossing the distance between them swiftly. She held her breath as he kissed her lips. She kissed back, and then his lips were gone. Throbs pulsed through her body. She opened her eyes; he was standing with his back against the door. "Where are you going?" "I'm late for the library gathering. I have to collect a Queen that will not be, and prepare for the celebration." She'd nearly forgotten about the celebration. "I'll see you there?" she asked quietly. He nodded with a huge smile.

"I guarantee it."

As he opened the door, she suddenly remembered. "Crimson?" she called out. He turned under the doorframe. "Glass slippers.

You forgot to give me shoes."

The creature flashed her a knowing smile and turned back into the hallway. She watched barefoot, as the door snicked shut behind him. The chair was as comfortable as it looked. She sighed as she lowered her body into it, leaning forward to gaze out the window into the early evening. Her bare toes brushed at the cold stone of the floor, the edge of the gown pooling at her calves. The sky hadn't completely lost the faint glow of sunset, but the traces of luminance would disappear in the next few minutes. Tracers of pink and mauve streaked the sky, chasing one another across the



heavens. She idly regretted the view she'd missed, and that Mercury had witnessed earlier. The sunset would have been spectacular. The forest spread out below the window, dark and green, stretching from the edge of the darkened moat to the horizon. She could hear sounds filtering through the air, faint but audible. An underlying bass beat, something almost techno, appeared to be issuing from somewhere in the forest. The occasional soft laugh and the steady drone of conversation reached her ears. Once in a while, bright flashes of white light emerged from below the trees. In the fading light, she watched as small groups of people trickled across the drawbridge and along the path into the forest. She couldn't determine if they were clothed, or unclothed, but their excited voices touched her. Her heart began to beat faster in nervous anticipation. She heard the door creak, but she didn't turn to see who it was. Only Mercury, or Sondra, would enter her sanctuary without knocking. One set of bare feet padded towards the bed, while one approached her chair. The unmistakable sounds of clothing slipping over skin reached her ears from the other side of the room. Alison peered out into the darkness, ignoring the flashing from the forest floor, straining to see whatever Mercury and Crimson had seen so very far away. The last of the streamers of light faded from the sky above. She sighed. Fingers slipped through her hair, pulling gently at the few tangles that remained there. "Beautiful, isn't it?" "Is it real?" Alison whispered. She tilted her head slightly. Mercury's fingers continued their slow cadence through her hair. Mercury pursed her lips.

"It's magic."

Alison remained silent. Soft blue lights glowed beneath the moat waters, throwing tendrils of luminance across the stone of the castle. Mercury kissed the top of Alison's head gently. "She didn't, did she?"



Alison shook her head, suddenly feeling like crying. Mercury kissed her head once more. No I-told-you-so. No recriminations. "There is only one," Mercury whispered. The girls remained silent, even after Sondra joined them, her lips brushing quickly at Alison's.

======================================================================== Inverness - Part VIII - Torchbearer (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

"It's time," Mercury whispered. Alison sighed, rising to her bare feet. She was surprised to see that Mercury was wearing clothing: a bright pink shirt and blue cut-off jeans. Her feet were bare. Sondra wore a gown of shimmering white that reminded Alison of a Roman toga. Mercury laughed as Alison rose. "What? I look ridiculous," Alison murmured. Her fingers toyed with the neckline of the evening gown that Crimson had bestowed upon her. Mercury shook her head.

"You look stunning.

Honestly."

"I'll be out of place." Sondra touched Alison's bare shoulder for a moment.


"Alison, there


will be people dancing naked tonight, including her," Sondra nodded towards Mercury, who stuck her tongue out in response. "You will hardly be out of place." She paused for a moment. "Sweetheart, you're the Torchbearer." "Huh?" Mercury laughed again, addressing Sondra. "She didn't tell her.

That infernal creature."

"He said that I didn't have to wear it," Alison said. Sondra shook her head. "I'm sure that you don't. Doesn't change the fact that you will bear the torch. She chose you, that's why you get the dress." "Dress?

Torch?"

"Someone's got to light the fire..." The voices were closer and louder as they moved through the courtyard. The grass had been a welcome change to the rough stone of the castle floors. Mercury waved to the people they passed; all wore smiles, most wore some bright clothing. An excitement encompassed everyone as the girls moved towards the drawbridge. Alison could feel eyes tracing her black dress, tracing her movements. Once again, rough wood appeared under Alison's feet as the sounds of their steps echoed over the water of the moat. She glanced upwards, expecting the harsh sounds of a challenge, but none were forth-coming. Alison broke from the others, leaning forward onto the rail. She stared down towards the blue tinged waters of the moat. Further down the way, a laughing couple splashed happily on the far bank. As she watched the turquoise water below, a small dark creature with a sleek coat swam lazily out from below the drawbridge. Alison gasped quietly, but the animal seemed docile enough, and it was far enough away that it posed no real danger. Seemingly without direction, the swimmer found its way to the near bank directly under the castle ramparts. There, in the shadows, a http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (52 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


blonde girl in shimmering white stood, her back touching the stone of the wall. She smiled as the tiny animal slowly climbed from the turquoise with an almost imperceptible splash. The girl bent, running her hand over the fur that somehow was no longer wet. With a silent touch of her lips, the creature morphed into a man, like the proverbial frog turning into Prince Charming. With a bow, the man swept the girl, giggling, into his arms. Alison blinked, but the man remained, kissing the girl cradled in his arms. She didn't think the man had seen her watching, but with a grin and a wave, he called to the trio on the drawbridge. "You're wearing clothes?" he asked. Mercury, from a short distance behind Alison replied. "Shouldn't you be still wearing fur until moonrise, Mink?" The man blushed for only a moment. "And miss this? She kissed me. You know the rules." "Yes, I suppose that I do," Mercury murmured. The mink turned back to the girl in his arms with another kiss. As Alison watched, the couple faded into the shadows, or perhaps they had melted into the air. She was quiet for a few moments, and she could sense Mercury and Sondra waiting patiently behind her. Then she sensed the slow movement behind her of bare feet on wood. "Wish I had a quarter," she mumbled as Mercury and Sondra joined her, one on each side. "No money, here. Don't need it," Mercury sighed. "Well, unless you count the play stuff for the girls that like playing night walker games." Alison turned and stared. Mercury laughed a little. Everyone has fantasies. Even you."

"Relax.

Alison blushed, and turned back to the water. It flowed forever under the bridge. She was about to rise when a light, warm roundness filled her right palm. She gasped, prying open her clenched fingers to stare at the quarter within. Instead of a familiar moose, the coin featured a dragon silhouetted by a rising moon.



"How?" "One of the authors is watching," Mercury murmured, "or heard you." Alison looked about, even glancing up at the abandoned ramparts above the drawbridge. Then she glanced down at her gown, which was still intact. Mercury, as if reading her mind, spoke. "Relax. Malinov is in the library by now, and none of them will use their X-ray vision on you. I promise." Alison looked sideways at Mercury, then down at her breasts, making Mercury laugh. "They can't...they don't..." "They can, but they won't." Alison shook her head. "Make a wish," Sondra whispered. And she did. The quarter sank slowly beneath the surface of the moat, catching the underwater luminance as it tumbled through the water. Mercury and Sondra linked arms with Alison, and the girls' footsteps echoed off the far edge of the bridge. The carpet of pine needles was warm and soft beneath her bare feet. Crickets chirped as they passed, and even a cicada marked their passing with a cry. They had passed nobody as they moved forest. Alison wondered how Mercury through the darkness, but after they various small trees, she relaxed and the clearing.

swiftly through the darkened and Sondra could find their way had deftly guided her around allowed them to ferry her towards

Alison gasped as she stepped out from the cover of the trees. A large clearing stretched from the entrance path. Sondra and Mercury released her arms, allowing her to take two steps forward. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (54 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


A large raised stage covered the far side of the clearing. Banquet tables ringed the clearing, piled high with food and jugs of liquid. Lights, bright, but not electric, hovered near the treeline, casting a bright glow across. People of all shapes, colours, and sizes stood quietly around the edge of the clearing, seemingly with their eyes glued to Alison. Her eyes finally stopped against an enormous pile of wood and brush, which lay stacked within a ring of stones dominating the view. "Wow," she breathed. She turned slowly, acutely feeling the pine needles beneath her feet. Couples and single people filed in slowly behind her, waiting quietly. As she turned, a large, but familiar, shape materialised in front of her, an old torch flickering in his paw. She looked up, a smile gracing her lips. "CL!" The big man grinned, holding out the torch for her fingers. "How?" He bent and gently kissed her cheek. "Later," he whispered to her. He held out the torch to her again. "Crimson said you might need this." Suddenly, Mercury was at her ear, whispering urgently. "Like I told you.

Okay?"

Her lips kissed Alison's ear.

Alison struggled to calm the butterflies flitting about in her stomach. She curtsied, smiling at the familiar bartender. As she rose, her fingers grasped the wooden handle of the simple torch. She glanced around. Everyone was watching her. She turned to Mercury. "I can't.

I abdicate.

Mercury smiled.

You..."

"You ain't the Queen, thank your lucky stars.


You


can't abdicate. Go light the blessed thing before I starve to death." She gently pressed a finger below Alison's throat. Alison inhaled deeply, and turned. at the audience.

She lowered her eyes, not looking

The distance seemed to stretch on forever, but at last her bare feet stopped at the circle of stones. She raised her eyes. The magical lights dimmed, perhaps at the touch of an unseen finger. She sighed, wishing that she had known that she would be standing here. "Happy Solstice," she whispered. She closed her eyes and tossed the torch upwards. When she opened her eyes, she watched the torch spiral flawlessly onto the top of the pile far above. As the flames began to lick at the fuel, a deafening roar from a thousand voices swept her senses. As the cheering swept past its crescendo, Buddy Holly issued from unseen speakers, singing about the Day-ay-ay That I'll Die. People slowly surrounded the bonfire, dancing and laughing and cheering. In the middle, the heat warming her skin, Alison slowly bent her head. She felt like a barbarian eating with her fingers, but she swore that the food tasted better than any that she'd tasted before. Unknown sauces coated her fingers as she ate as daintily as she could. Mercury, beside her, laughed easily as someone, probably CL, related yet another off-colour joke. As Alison dropped the latest bone to her plate, she absently sucked at her fingertips to clean the worst of the sauce from them. Mercury smiled at her, gently guiding Alison's fingers to her mouth. Alison closed her eyes as Mercury's tongue slipped over her skin. When she re-opened her eyes, CL was watching her with a bemused expression on his face. "I...you know that I..." Alison stammered, distracted by Mercury's laugh. Alison flushed and made to rise to her feet. CL reached across the table, gently motioning her back to the bench. "Alison, dear, I won't tell anyone.

I promise."


The big man managed


to keep a solemn look on his lips. Alison lowered herself back to the bench, self-consciously licking the back of her hand. CL grinned and reached to the end of the table. He lifted a huge jug as though it weighed nothing. The goblets weren't made of glass, or metal, but a dark hardwood that reminded Alison of cherrywood. CL filled four to overflowing, and then passed one each to the three girls, and then placed one in front of himself. Sondra leaned over and whispered a warning. "Don't drink it as fast as he does, or we'll be picking you up off the floor." Alison nodded, lifting the goblet to her lips, carefully tasting. "Mead!" she cried. CL nodded in response, tilting his own cup upwards and draining it in one swallow. Mercury shook her head at the feat and daintily sipped her own. The liquid was significantly stronger than that of the bar, but it was recognisable. She turned to CL. "How?" she asked. "We bring some when we cross."

He looked puzzled.

"No, not the mead," she shook her head almost in frustration. are you here?" CL shrugged.

"How

"Shouldn't bartenders be here?"

Mercury scowled at the big man.

"Quit teasing her."

CL sighed. "I know how to brew mead, and I like showing up here once in a while. Needs law and order, don't you know? And besides, I write a little." Mercury scowled at him again, and then turned to watch the revellers dancing around the fire with wistful eyes. "Like Malinov?" Alison muttered, then made the association with a



shiver.

"See-El..."

The big man grinned, only to lose the grin in response to the frown appearing on Alison's face. He turned to Mercury for help, finding little. "Malinov made me flash him, apparently on your orders." See-El laughed.

"Made you?

Can you be made to do anything, Mercury?"

Mercury lost her battle to control her grin.

She nodded.

"Sometimes." "I told Malinov to watch for spammers." "He thought we were spammers." "Never, m'lady.

Never."

"Will you be going back with me?" Alison asked quietly. "Perhaps." See-El looked at Alison for a moment, and as if reading her mind continued. "We all have to go back, eventually." Alison shook her head slowly and raised her cup back to her lips. mead was sweet and intoxicating.

The

======================================================================== Inverness - Part IX - Solstice (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================



The sky lightened slowly in the east. heavens struggled to rise.

The moon, fighting against the

A familiar voice broke through the hard rocking of Collective Soul announcing the moonrise and the celebration. The music rose again into Bobby Fuller. Alison turned towards See-El, her eyes questioning. her.

Deja vue infused

"Celia," he mouthed and she nodded. The DJ's voice was the same as the woman who drove the music in The Portal. Alison glanced around her, sure that a tall, dark man would be slipping through the crowds, parting the smoke before him. Suddenly, a tugging on her arm caught her attention. Mercury, her body moving to the beat of the sixties, already had recruited Sondra. Alison rose to her bare feet, wondering just how she was going to dance with the evening gown on, but followed Mercury and Sondra as they wound through the crowds of dancers into the close light of the fire. The music grabbed her, and she laughed as the three formed a small circle, abandoning themselves to the law that would always win. She missed the music as the last strains of amplified guitar faded from the atmosphere. Her legs halted, and she stood hushed, like the rest of the crowd, her hands resting against her thighs. She looked up. Through mist that had appeared as if by magic, she saw the tall, dark man and the man she remembered from the shower lobby slowly leading a small parade of women and men. The woman from the room, Janey, she thought, walked between them looking faintly bemused. As they reached the edge of the stage, she thought she spied See-El. The big man smiled to her, and she waved back with a small movement of her fingers. The men retreated, and Alison watched as the tall woman raised her



arms towards the sky. From the east, a beam of pearl broke over the canopy of the trees to illuminate her. Janey's voice echoed across the clearing, clear and resounding. "We celebrate the coming of the Solstice. May fantasy remain with us forever." She paused, as if uncertain about dignity, and then tossing concern to the wind, announced, "Now, let's party!" As her arms lowered back to her sides, the crowd around Alison cheered as the music fell into Savage Garden. Alison watched as the people on stage slowly dispersed, joining into the crowd, or finding the endless food that Inverness had provided. As she turned back to the group, Mercury grinned as her pink top sailed easily into the bonfire. Bare breasted, she moved, dancing with abandon. Alison shook her head, grinned, and joined with the dance. She was dancing with Mercury to one of the infrequent slow songs that Celia allowed. Chris Isaak sang about wicked games while the girls moved easily together. Alison wasn't used to dancing with a girl, and she continued to step on Mercury's toes, but her partner didn't seem to mind. Mercury's bare breasts pressed comfortingly against Alison's, and where she may have been self-conscious when Mercury guided her into the embrace at the beginning of the song, she was no longer. They kissed, lightly but passionately. "See," Mercury whispered.

"It's not so bad."

Alison shook her head, and continued to turn until Josh fell into her vision. She blinked, sure he was an illusion. Not here. Impossible. "What is it?" Mercury asked, moving slightly away from Alison. Alison blinked again, focusing her eyes where the man had been swallowed by a pair of twins wearing gaudy Hawaiian shirts. As the Hawaiian twins danced around a stopped figure, Josh re-appeared. Any hope of melting back into the crowd vanished as his eyes lit upon Alison, his mouth dropping slightly as he noted Mercury. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (60 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


"Josh," she whispered. Butterflies to rival the torchbearer ones flittered against her stomach. Mercury turned her head, her eyes searching the crowd. "He shouldn't be here." Alison shook her head. "No," she replied.

"He shouldn't."

Such a Wicked Game we play.

To make me feel this way.

Mercury and Sondra continued to dance, but less frenetically, near the fire's edge. Firelight glistened off Mercury's bare breasts as she moved, her body effortlessly keeping the rhythm of the music. Her eyes flicked occasionally towards Alison, through the crowd, but continued to be distracted back towards Sondra by a quick word or gesture by the blonde. His lips had touched her cheek in a semblance of intimacy, but there was no burning like the last time he'd touched her, in her bed, so long ago. "Why are you here?" Alison asked quietly. Her fingers toyed with the rough wood of the table. Her eyes didn't meet Josh's. "Does it matter?

I'm here."

Alison nodded slowly.

"It matters."

"Why were you dancing with...her?" She looked up, startled. unexpected, uncertain.

That tinge in his voice, something new,

"Mercury?" "If that's her name.

The topless one."

Alison's eyes flicked out towards her.

Sondra had managed to coax



Mercury into dancing out of her direct line of vision. Only the occasional flash of Mercury's arm was visible beyond the back of Sondra's body. "Mercury.

Yes.

Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Alison blushed for a moment. "I...apparently needed it.

I was invited."

Josh inhaled deeply, shaking his head. "I guess I did, too. it. But you...weren't supposed to be here."

I needed

Alison lowered her eyes, nodding in agreement. She looked up again rapidly as the music shifted. Soft Cell, but not quite, began slowly with a hint of live keyboards. Her eyes flicked to the stage where the tall, familiar shape of the Dragon had taken centre stage. His voice mimicked the eighties group, and the power swept through the crowd as the music began to gather tempo. Others, probably other writers, joined the Dragon on stage lending their voices to re-create the familiar music. Alison's eyes automatically checked the fire, to see Mercury falling in with the crowd. Mercury looked up as if aware she was being watched, and flashed a quick smile towards Alison. Alison turned towards Josh. "I have to go." Josh shook his head, touching her arm gently, urging her to stay. indulged him, remaining seated on the bench. "Alison.

I...do you love her?

She

She's...she's...a woman."

"Mercury?" Josh nodded.

Alison paused for a moment, thinking.

"She's kind, and she didn't walk out on me.

Not yet."

Josh recoiled, stung a little. Alison regretted her words, but didn't quite know what to do about it. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (62 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


"I'm sorry, Alison. Can't we?"

But we had...have...something.

We can try again.

She felt tears forming where her eyes should have been. She wiped them away savagely. She glanced up at the man singing on stage, then at the woman dancing now with child-like abandon near the fire, her brunette hair swinging around her bare shoulders, free. Her eyes returned to the man she'd loved. She slowly shook her head. "We ended it last night, Josh. You walked out that door. I'm sorry." She rose to her bare feet. The pine needles beneath sighed at her presence. Swiftly, without thought or purpose, she pulled the gown over her head, laying it neatly on the bench where she'd sat but a moment before. She was faintly bemused at the expression on Josh's face, almost a longing of pleasure lost. Her eyes left Josh, raised to the Dragon. Surprised, she found the singer's eyes resting on her. The tall creature smiled, almost singing to her. She waved slightly and was gratified to see a small acknowledgement in the tilt of his head. Her lips automatically followed his. "Where did our love go?

Where?

Where?

Where?" she whispered.

She leaned down, pressing her lips lightly against Josh's cheek, then straightened. Smiling and unselfconscious of her nudity, she threaded her way between the dancers to rejoin Mercury and Sondra. She did not look back. It was as though her nudity had sparked an awareness within the crowd. Many dancers, as though emboldened by the torchbearer's exposure, shed some or all of their clothing, continuing the dancing. The Dragon continued to lead the music, shifting personas as necessary to achieve male or female vocals. The Dragon, currently a stunning redhead draped in a form-fitting outfit, grinned as a final rendition



of "Heart and Soul" wound down. The Dragon on stage shimmered from the redhead, settling back into the tall man with whom Alison was more familiar. Mercury, miraculously still clad in her cut-offs, twisted as the silence of the music stretched. "Watch out," Mercury whispered. Alison shivered as the creature's eyes again rested on her. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious again, and she had to will her hands to remain at her sides. I used to live in New York City.

Everything there was dark and dirty.

Without warning, the Dragon crossed his hands in a flash of blue light. Alison blinked. ======================================================================== Inverness - Part X - Young Girls Are Coming To The Canyon (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

Bluffs, like the sheer sides of a long valley, grew up where the trees had formerly stood. Alison shook her head, and blinked again. Her feet rested in warm sand, the pine needles replaced by the banks of a narrow river. Her toes sensed dampness in the sand there; humid salty air assailed her nostrils. The bonfire still burned, somehow suspended above the centre of the water. "Told you to watch out," Mercury laughed from somewhere close. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (64 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


Without surprise, she sensed the black gown return to embrace her bare body. Sondra, too, regained her long lost white toga wrap. Again, without surprise, she noted that Mercury's top had not reappeared, but that her shorts remained about her hips. Crimson's voice continued from the centre of the stage that lay suspended in the middle of the river. His was the only male voice in this new valley. With a start, Alison realised that no men remained near the bonfire, only women dancing in its flickering light. However, the women that remained found the rhythm and danced through the sand without missing a beat. Alison craned her head upwards. The males lined the tops of the cliffs above, staring wistfully down at the dancing girls, some moving to the sounds of the music from below. "How?" "Magic," Mercury cried back, her voice carried away by the music. Alison resumed her dancing, suddenly thankful for the black garment. Young girls are coming to the canyon... I saw her again last night.

And I know that I shouldn't...

The changes became a blur, shifting from cityscape, to wilderness, from mountains to ocean. The crowd danced in abandon, celebrating the Solstice like pagans immersed in festival, which she supposed it wasn't far from. The rapid shifts in scenery had disoriented her at first, but the novelty of dancing on pavement and then on water, within seconds, ultimately fascinated her. She abandoned herself to the magic. And as quickly as it had begun, the clearing returned, pine needles cushioning her bare feet, firelight cast by the bonfire that she had lit an eternity ago. Sondra had twirled away with Janey somewhere in the middle of the shifting scenery, leaving her with only Mercury.



As the music paused, Mercury grinned at Alison, her face flushed with exertion and pleasure. Perspiration trickled down the side of her face as her breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing. Mercury extended her hand.

Alison's fingers entwined with Mercury's.

Alison glanced up towards the stage. waved cheerily at her. To string her along, just ain't right.

Crimson, without missing a beat

If I couldn't I wouldn't...

The black gown lay crumpled on the stone, lit by flickering candlelight. A pair of blue cut-offs kept the gown company. Bass beats from the forest wafted through the open window, carried by the breeze. The sounds of a thousand revellers continued somewhere far below. Her body ached as she slipped back against the pillows. Her legs, arms, and nipples cried out in protest. Mercury's skin slipped over hers. Shivers. Fingers touched her nipples, gently twisting.

She moaned.

Mercury's mouth floated millimetres from her lips. She wanted those lips. Her body shouldn't have wanted sex, couldn't have wanted sex, but she did. She reached up, fingers entwining in Mercury's damp hair, pulling her close. Fingers entered her, gently. Lips brushed at her nipples, her lips brushing at Mercury's soft skin. She cried out. Sunlight splashed across her face, waking her gently. The canopy fluttered above her in the cool, morning breeze slipping through the window. Mercury lay asleep with her head cradled in the crook of Alison's shoulder. Sometime in the night, Sondra had crawled into the bed, and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Inverness.html (66 of 72)8/15/2005 12:06:32 AM


she was curled up, too, her bare arm goosebumped, one hand cupping Mercury's breast from behind. Alison squirmed out from beneath Mercury, gently lowering her head onto a pillow. Mercury mumbled something incoherent, one hand reaching for the coverlet that wasn't there. She curled back up, snuggling back into the warmth of Sondra. Alison rubbed at her eyes, swinging her bare legs out of bed. Her back teeth were floating, and she automatically clenched her legs together. She ached all over, her muscles protesting her activity of the last day or so. Instead of stone, her bare feet touched softness. She leaned beyond the canopy, gathering up the coverlet that had dropped there sometime during last night's lovemaking. She carefully covered up Mercury and Sondra, then padded to where her gown graced the floor. Smoothing the fabric, she debated simply not wearing anything, but in the end decided to slip it over her head. She leaned briefly on the windowsill, breathing in the clean air. The sun lit the green of the forest across the countryside in front of her. Smoke rose lazily from a wide clearing below her and to the right. She shook her head slowly, and retreated from the window. Her bladder screamed at her, and she padded barefoot to the doorway. The hot water had transferred relaxation into her muscles. Her hair dripped onto her shoulders, dampening the green towel that she'd wrapped around her torso. The black gown lay draped over her right arm, still miraculously unwrinkled. As she opened the door, she spied Mercury sitting naked on the floor, the coverlet under her. Sondra sat cross-legged on the bed. They both turned as she entered. "What's wrong?" Alison asked as she stepped into the room. She smiled as she saw the tall man seated in the chair, his face reflecting a sombre mood to match the girls.



"I didn't know you could sing," Alison remarked to him without waiting for an answer from the girls. The Dragon smiled.

"I didn't know you could dance."

Alison blushed, could feel the blood rushing to her toes even. shook her head.

She

"I'm sorry about Josh. Sometimes the authors don't talk to each other as much as they should." Alison shrugged. "'tis all right. have seen each other eventually."

We sorted things out.

We would

"You did the right thing, if that means anything." "I know," she whispered.

The room lapsed into silence for a moment.

"Quite a trip," she remarked. "All trips must come to an end," Crimson sighed. Alison stopped walking, glancing at Mercury and Sondra, and then back at Crimson. "Now?" He nodded slowly. "Can I stay?" Mercury rose to her feet, stepping quickly towards Alison. embraced the girl, her lips reaching for Alison's.

She

"You needed this, but you also need home." "I want to stay." "And we want you to stay," Mercury whispered, her finger gently against Alison's lips. "Sondra and I are heading home, too, after you go. Living one's life in a fantasy isn't the healthiest thing in the world to do." "It's real here."



"It's magic here," Mercury gently corrected. Alison fought back the tears.

"Will I see you again?"

Mercury smiled and hugged her tight.

"Oh yes.

I can promise that."

Alison broke the embrace and walked over to Sondra. "Thank you," she whispered.

Sondra smiled and offered her lips.

Alison returned to Mercury.

"And thank you."

"We had fun." Mercury kissed her deeply, her body inviting, sending throbs again through Alison. Alison released Mercury, resting her eyes on Crimson. She wiped at her eyes, and then found a smile. She dropped the towel, cocking her head to her right shoulder. The Dragon grinned, but kept his eyes upon hers. Without a word, she slipped the dress over her head, settling it around her body. She raised her hand. He took it, guiding her slowly to the doorway. As she passed through, she turned and waved. "Torchbearer!" She looked up as she entered the vast room. She'd never been in a library quite like this, shelves and shelves of books stretching on forever. Green, comfortable reading chairs stood beside soft lights on ornate end tables. See-El rose from one of the easy chairs, dropping the manuscript that he was perusing. She ran lightly across the brown carpet to embrace the big man. "Thought I'd lost you." "Never."

He released her.

"It's time to go home," she looked up at him, almost pleading with him to tell the Dragon that she'd prefer to stay here. He bent his head with a wink. "We all need to go home once in a while. Reality isn't that bad, you know."



She turned to the Dragon who was watching quietly from near the doorway. For some reason, his face reflected an old pain, like someone witnessing something that she cannot do, but so desperately wants to. She grasped the barkeep's hand and guided him back to the Dragon. "I...I'm ready.

I think."

The tall creature nodded, his hands defining the shining portal shimmering near the chair from which See-El had risen. Alison released See-El's hand, rising up on her tiptoes. She kissed the Dragon full on the lips. To her surprise, the Dragon responded, kissing her back, but for a moment. "And thank-you, most of all," she whispered. quiet acceptance.

The Dragon nodded in

She turned, slipping her hand back into See-El's grasp. Together, they walked towards the shimmering, heatless blue light.

======================================================================== Inverness - Part XI - Return (Epilogue) (FF, fantasy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 2001 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

"I'll come by. voice.

I promise," she promised the big man in a hushed



She waved to the bartender as he disappeared into the elevator. As soon as the doorway clicked shut, she automatically slipped the black gown from her body. She stared at it, then down at her boots that remained haphazard in the hallway where she'd kicked them; was it only last night? She ached, unbearably apartment, her living carpet.

and despite having just slept in Inverness, she was tired. The streetlight provided dim illumination to the its light reflecting off her bare skin as she padded into room. The two empty water glasses stood sentinel on her

Carefully, she smoothed the fabric of the gown, her mind wandering from a hayloft to a forest clearing so far away. "Crimson, what have you done to me?" she asked no one in particular. She placed the black gown down on the floor. She padded out to the kitchen, foregoing the light switch. Dimly, she made out the flask sitting on her sparse kitchen table. She smiled, pulling out a wine glass from a cupboard and filling it halfway with golden liquid. Still naked, she settled into the corner of the sofa, sipping at the familiar mead. Her fingers fumbled at the control to her stereo. The apartment remained so very empty, but suddenly it was all right. Equinox would be upon her faster than she might imagine. Her fingers flipped on the stereo, cycling down the volume. The familiar sounds of The Mamas and Papas filled her senses. She rose, moving to the armchair. She shifted the chair's position until it sat under the window. Her toes brushed at the carpet as she idly swung her legs, elbows resting inside the panes of glass, but upon the windowsill. Cold radiated off the window, chilling her bare breasts. She didn't notice the cold. The moon floated overhead, full and bright. She blinked, sure she'd seen a figure winging in silhouette across the face. When she returned her eyes to the moon, the image was gone, a fleeting image, perhaps magic.



The tenth track issued from the stereo. across her closed lids. I saw her. I saw her. I shouldn't...

Images of Mercury danced

I saw her again, last night.

And I know that

Equinox would be here soon.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Autumn Equinox - Crimson Dragon

Autumn Equinox © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Autumn Equinox (FF, equinox, magic) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - October 2000 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

Absently, she rubbed at her aching eyes with her knuckles and yawned. Her fingers ached nearly as much as her eyes; the relentless tapping of the computer keys muted as she stretched. The glowing hands of the mantle clock ticked relentlessly into the silence, crying out that the time was rapidly approaching the witching hour. She sighed. Would the story be ready for the festival? The words stared up at her from the small luminescent screen as though they were written in a foreign language. God, she was tired. The hard-drive clattered in time with the ticking clock as she deftly saved the document and then switched off the power to the computer. Her legs complained as she rose from the desk chair to her bare feet. She turned off the ambient glow of the side lamp as she passed it, padding around familiar obstacles in the now darkened room. Trailing her fingers along the bannister, she climbed the stairs, automatically avoiding the third stair that insisted on creaking. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (1 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


She checked on the children, hearing their regular and deep breathing, before quietly entering the master bedroom. Her husband rolled over as he sensed her presence. She quickly undressed beside the bed in the dark, dropping her clothes inelegantly onto the floor. Smiling, she slipped nude between the sheets. Residual warmth from his body suffused her, and she welcomed his sleepy arms over her as she settled. Downstairs, the mantle clock chimed twelve, and the quiet ticking of the clock quickly lulled her into a deep sleep. It had been of falling, slightly in between her aroused.

a vague dream. She remembered a bright blue light, a sense but above all a sense of unrelenting eroticism. She ached various parts of her body, especially her nipples and legs. With a start, she realised that she was mildly

Her husband's arm lay easily across her bare chest, his palm lightly cupping her right breast. His breathing was soft and regular, not his normal chainsaw rivalling snore. No, it wasn't him that had awakened her. She glanced around the darkened room, half wondering if an intruder was rifling her costume jewellery. Moonlight streamed through the closed curtains, giving the room an ethereal quality. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she again closed her eyes, ready to drift back into the netherworld from which she had been rudely yanked. Before she could find dreamland again, her eyes fluttered open. She pursed her lips, something nagging insistently at her memory. The ticking of the clock downstairs had stopped. Inexplicably, her heart began to beat a little faster as she lay quietly in the dark. Instinctively, her fingers touched the hand encircling her breast as though to anchor herself. She nearly screamed at the sudden clatter that filled the bedroom. After she had calmed her racing heart, she considered waking the man lying beside her oblivious to the commotion. That sound, it was familiar. A sudden clatter ... like ... like ... Wisconsin. She began to gently move her husband's hand from her chest, trying desperately not to wake him. Last time that particular clatter had http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (2 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


awakened her, she hadn't had this problem of disturbing a bed mate. She had been seventeen, naive, and determined to love the man of her dreams. Christ, she'd been foolish back in Wisconsin that summer. As his arm slipped across her left nipple, she sighed. Knowing that another clatter would be imminent, she resisted the urge to wake the sleeping man beside her, and swung her bare legs out of bed. She shivered as the hardwood radiated slivers of cold into her feet. She thought about grabbing a bathrobe from the ensuite door, but instead tiptoed over to the window, peering between the sheer curtains. A vague but familiar form stood on the back lawn, his face upturned towards the window. While she ensured that her nudity remained behind the curtain, her fingers slipped the hasp free and raised the pane. Immediately, the lacy curtains fluttered in the cool night air, wrapping themselves around and between her thighs. Irritation seeped into her as she realised that her nipples had tightened further with the brush of the night breeze. The sleeping form beneath the warm sheets turned over and mumbled something incoherent. She shook her hair, and stuck her head out into the night. She caught her breath as the sharpness of the air filled her lungs. "This isn't Wisconsin, Chet," she whispered fiercely at the stranger below. "Huh?" a familiar but confused voice floated upwards. She tried to place the voice; couldn't. She grinned to herself. She knew it wasn't Chet, but if the idiot was going to wake up the neighbourhood chucking stones at her window like a teenager, she could at least confuse him a little. "Wisconsin, you idiot. Boston isn't in Wisconsin." The form below shook his head, confusion radiating from his posture. She relented. "Sandra lives next door," she whispered towards the wayward suitor. Sandra was her neighbour's daughter, seventeen, a looker, and as foolish as another certain female in another time and place. She smiled, memories of a far-off time caressing her. She drew her head back into the bedroom. Goosebumps adorned her upper arms. Her fingers reached for the window pane. "Janey!" the stranger hissed insistently. The window halted halfway shut.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (3 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


She licked her lips, her brow furrowing. Janey? She hadn't used that name in the real world for a hell of a long time. Who ... ? She drew in her breath and stuck her head back out into the night, shivering. He didn't seem overly perturbed, but a fine ruby light seemed to shimmer from his indistinct, upturned face. "It's nearly time. And who the hell is Sandra?" he whispered up to her now confused face. The voice. So familiar. The inflection. The roughness. The reddish tinge to the night. "Crimson?" "Who the hell else would be throwing stones at your window in the dead of night on the eve of Equinox?" She pretended to consider for a moment. "Chet." "Who the heck is ... nevermind. Are you ready?" Janey glanced back at the bed where her husband slumbered on, peacefully oblivious. Suddenly, she was rather conscious of her nudity. "Ready for what?" she asked warily. "The Equinox Festival," he sighed patiently as though it made some sort of warped sense. "Do you want me to come up there?" Janey sighed. She vaguely remembered this creature's ability to circumvent perfectly good walls and doors. "Let me at least get dressed. I'll come out." She considered for a moment. Sometimes it was better to be clear with Dragons. "The hard way," she added firmly. "Sometimes, Janey, you aren't much fun," Crimson whispered back playfully. "And besides, I doubt if you'll need clothes much ..." He trailed off. Janey shot the annoying creature a warning glance and then pulled herself back into the bedroom. Goosebumps now decorated most of her bare flesh, but she was fully awake. She quickly shut the window, the noise stirring her husband. He mumbled something quietly, turned over and continued to sleep. Janey sighed. She wasn't going anywhere with http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (4 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


Crimson. Not this time, not in the middle of the night. Bad things happened to nice girls when they accepted invitations from Dragons to ... what was it? ... Equinox Festivals. But unless she relented and wandered down to talk to him, the idiot would continue to pelt her window with her garden until either he woke the entire neighbourhood, or her husband. Damn. Knowing it was a mistake, she quickly pulled her faded blue jeans over her hips, and a sweatshirt over her head, forgoing underwear. Her vague memories prompted her. If she remembered last time at all, it wouldn't much matter what she wore. She was cold, so she pulled some warm socks out of the bedside stand and pulled them over her bare toes. She leaned over and kissed her husband on the forehead. "I'll see you soon," she whispered. By habit, she checked in on the kids on her way to the main stairs. They continued their oblivious slumber. Quietly, she tiptoed down the staircase, again automatically avoiding the centre of the third stair. Her shoes were sensibly resting by the front door. She slipped them over her toes. Steeling herself, she whispered to herself. "Whatever he wants, I'm coming back in and going back to bed. Whatever he wants, I'm coming back in and going back to bed." Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the night. She repeated her mantra, and knowing it was futile, she turned and locked the door. "You needn't have dressed for me." He was seated casually on the porch rail. She turned quietly, giving him her best yeah-I'm-going-outside-naked sarcastic look. "Whatever you want, I'm going back inside and going back to bed ..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly. "Okay." He smiled and shrugged. Damn the smug creature. He hopped nimbly down from the rail, glancing at his watch. It appeared to be an old pocket watch, and while she stared, it shimmered into a modern digital watch, and then back again. She blinked. "It's been nearly a year and a half," she observed. He nodded. "Too long, methinks." He paused, his eyes glued to the shapeshifting timepiece. "In exactly two minutes, the sun, on the other side of the world, will cross the ecliptic plane."



"Equinox." Janey filled in the obvious. He nodded again. "Is that why you dragged me out of a nice warm bed in the middle of the night? To wait for some cosmic event that's happening on the other side of the planet?" "Technically, it's early in the morning." Giving up, Janey nodded and leaned back on the rail that Crimson had vacated. Strange. She should have been nearly exhausted. Writing all evening. To bed late. But against all sensibility, she felt refreshed and bright eyed. She ran her fingers through her tousled hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Crimson wave absently at her. Suddenly her hair felt clean and untangled beneath her fingers. She gasped. "So ... what's this about a Festival?" she broke the silence. The quicker that Equinox came and went, the sooner she could return to dreamland. "Don't you remember last time?" he asked gently. "The Equinox one is almost better than Solstice," he added, as though that made any more sense than this whole conversation. "Last time?" "Mercury? Miranda? Mat?" "Twassel? I know Mat. Sort of, if that's who you mean. But a Festival? Mercury? The god? The planet? Rising?" Crimson laughed kindly. "This explains a lot." He continued almost to himself, absently. "She doesn't really remember." Janey flashed the annoying creature one of those famous irritated looks. "It explains nothing. The Festival ..." she prompted. "Oh, you'll find out," he seemed to enjoy being mysterious. "I'm not going," she reiterated, and turned back towards the front door. Her key dangled from her fingers. "It's time." The creature mumbled some words that sounded like a cross between Greek and Gregorian chants. An ethereal blue light, which could never have been reflected by the moon, illuminated the landscape. Janey froze and turned around slowly, her eyes adjusting to the bright blue light emanating from a portal http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (6 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


that had appeared near the middle of her street. The keys clattered to the porch at her feet. Vague memories, triggered by the portal, began to seep back into the forefront of her mind. She turned to Crimson. He merely grinned at her. "So you appeared as a male again." She couldn't think of anything better to observe. "It was interesting last time," he mumbled. Then, as if to prove her wrong, the Dragon shimmered into a scaly creature, then into a brunette waif, then settled back into the familiar tall, dark male Crimson with whom she was more familiar. He looked at her and cocked his head to the side. "You still don't want to go?" It wasn't the smart thing to do, and if she thought about it for very long, she'd probably decide to return to her nice, warm, safe bed. But she could always do that, and thinking only ever landed her in trouble. "No Queen bullshit?" she asked. There were still large, gaping holes in her memories of a year and a half ago, but she remembered some silliness about a Queen. He simply smiled enigmatically. Janey sighed heavily. "Who's Miranda? And Mercury?" she asked as she slipped her hand into the Dragon's and they began to walk together towards the swirling portal. "It's a long story. Who's Chet? And why Wisconsin?" he countered. "It's a long story." She smiled. The portal shone with a cool sapphire light, ten short centimetres from her nose. Her fingers released the Dragon's hand. "I shouldn't," she whispered as she purposely stepped forward and blue light engulfed her. An intense falling sensation overwhelmed her senses. "Dammit. Dammit. Dammit," Janey swore as she hurtled through the air like a lead eagle, only to land in a less than dignified heap. She could smell freshly cut grass and her head was lying on something soft and pliable. Soft, musical laughter echoed into her ear, and she opened her eyes to be greeted by a strange but somehow familiar view. Realising where she was, she scrambled into a sitting position.



"I'm so sorry," she spoke to the girl upon whom she'd landed. The girl was brunette, probably mid-twenties, still laughing softly through a huge welcoming grin. And not much else. She was propped up on one elbow in the grass watching Janey stammer. She made no attempt to cover herself, but brushed away the fingers of a topless blonde girl lying in the grass beside her, who pretended to pout. The brunette extended her hand toward Janey. "I'm Sondra. Welcome." Her voice carried the same musical tones as her laugh. "J-Janey." Janey took a deep breath and briefly grasped the offered hand in her own. Sondra smiled. "I know," she responded with mock seriousness. "Crimson said that he'd be bringing you. He didn't mention that you'd be literally dropping in." "That useless, damnable lizard." Janey turned away from the naked girl, towards the swirling blue portal. It shimmered in the air about a metre and a half off the ground -- maybe four feet. That damn Dragon had a warped sense of humour. "When the hell is that idiot going to ..." As if her words had conjured the beast, the Dragon emerged from the portal in a shimmering of purple, landing nimbly on his feet next to Janey. The portal swiftly swirled closed as he emerged. "What are you doing down there?" he asked innocently. Janey glared at him, then smiled sweetly while climbing to her feet. "Meeting Sondra." She turned with a regal wave towards the girls in the grass. Sondra waved from the ground, gently pushing the blonde away from her lips. "Hey, Crimson," Sondra spoke. "Will Janey be staying?" Crimson shrugged. A hint of suggestion played across her voice. "Will you be staying?" "Probably not this time, Sondra," he responded gently. Then he mumbled so that only Janey could hear. "All work and no play makes Crimson a dull dragon." Janey felt Crimson's hand guide her shoulder away from the girls. As she turned, it became apparent that she was in an interior courtyard, a medieval castle surrounding them. Various couples, all in stages of http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (8 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


undress, populated the courtyard. One laughing girl was actually tied to a tree, a man sitting at her feet reading to her. Other couples lay as Sondra and her friend were, kissing or exploring in the soft grass. As Janey glanced over her shoulder, she watched as Sondra winked at her, this time not resisting the blonde as long fingers trailed over Sondra's skin. Their lips met again without interference. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Janey turned back towards Crimson. "Four feet?" she asked indignantly. "What?" "Did you have to make the damn door appear four feet off the ground? I nearly killed myself -- and Sondra." The Dragon laughed quietly. "Sondra didn't mind. Trust me." "I mind. I landed on her." Crimson tried unsuccessfully to stifle a grin. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You sound extremely sorry," she replied sarcastically. "Where are we going, anyway?" They'd exited the courtyard and entered a dimly lit corridor. Her footsteps echoed as if she were entering a tomb. "To see Miranda." "Who?" "The girl you had sex with last time you were here." Janey stopped in the middle of the corridor. After a few steps, Crimson turned around and faced her. "Don't look so shocked. You would've remembered eventually." "I had ..." "This place makes you do some different things sometimes. It's good for you and better, it's safe." "But ..." Without further thought, Janey stepped to the edge of the hallway, her hands leaning on the sill of a stone opening that passed as a window. Without being aware of it, she had climbed up about two stories along http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (9 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


the slightly inclined hall. Her gaze passed over the courtyard, watching Sondra and her partner, now in more serious exploration, fingers playing and touching. The other couples, both male-female and female-female, were all enjoying the sunshine, and each other. Even the girl tied to the tree seemed to be enjoying herself. Janey licked her lips. "I wasn't out there, was I? I mean with this Miranda?" A masculine laugh behind her turned her head. The voice didn't belong to Crimson. Janey blushed automatically. "No, as far as I know you weren't with Miranda in the courtyard," the stranger commented as though invited to do so. The voice was vaguely familiar, but the face didn't ring any bells. Crimson made the introduction. "Janey, Mat. Mat, Janey." "Twassel?" "Who else? Though I understand that you made a bit of a scene in the communal showers last time you were here," Mat added thoughtfully. Janey instinctively threw her arms around the author and then released him. "It's been so long," she added unnecessarily. "Methinks you owe me a note," he remarked casually. "Are you coming to the Festival?" Janey looked over at Crimson, who nodded. "I think so." "Keep out of the mead. Trust me, it's stronger than last year. Some idiot let Nick ferment it; he claims he slipped with the yeast." "Mead?" "Trust me." Janey nodded thoughtfully. "Listen, gotta run. Mercury is waiting for me. We have to plan some ... music. And if I don't stop her, she'll inundate us with sixties all night." Janey gave Mat a quick peck on the cheek and watched as he hurried down the hall. She turned back to Crimson. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (10 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


"I didn't ... I mean ... with him ..." He laughed softly. "If you did, I didn't hear about it." Janey let her breath out slowly. "And I didn't make a fool of myself in the courtyard? With Miranda?" The Dragon became more solemn. "You didn't make a fool of yourself, period." He gently guided her back toward the way they had been walking before he'd shocked her. "Except maybe with the mead." She didn't like the sound of that, but opted to ignore it this time. They walked on in silence. Janey emerged from her reverie as she bumped into the Dragon. Crimson had halted unexpectedly in front of a large oak door adorned with iron handles and hinges. "Signal before you do that," Janey whispered. She glanced at the doorway in front of her. "Where are we?" "I think Miranda is in there. At least that's what Mat said earlier." "You think?" "Well, all the doors look alike," Crimson mumbled. "Do you want to change?" "Change what?" Crimson grinned in response. As he raised his hand to wave at her, Janey wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "No. These clothes will be fine." "But you aren't wearing anything underneath." She briefly wondered how he knew that, but nothing surprised her anymore. Maybe Dragons had X-ray vision. She shivered at the thought. Crimson's hand fell to the side, leaving her in her comfortable jeans and sweatshirt. "Thank you," she said. Crimson nodded toward the door. "Knock." "I don't even know her."



"You will." Janey turned towards the door, and then back towards Crimson. A puff of smoke stood where the tall man had been only a second previously. She began to curse softly. She considered wandering away, or calling out for the beast, but in the end turned in resignation back to the oak. "Open, sesame," she whispered. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she reached forward and rapped once on the door. A muffled, sleepy voice called out from within. "Who is it?" Janey cleared her throat and spoke towards the doorway, feeling unbearably foolish. "Jane." Then after a moments hesitation, she added, "I think." She sensed movement from within the room. The door creaked open. A familiar girl, brunette, barefoot, early twenties, her eyes heavy with sleep, and dressed in a white satin dressing gown, peered out into the hallway. A grin grew across her features as she recognised Janey. Without warning, the girl crossed the threshold, kissing Janey on the cheek, and pressing her body into Janey. "It's been a long time," she whispered in Janey's ear. The lithe contact, the voice, and the face caused all the memories to flood back. Janey flushed. They hadn't been in the courtyard -- only overlooked it. She hugged the girl back. "Miranda." Sunlight stroked her cheek. Janey murmured softly as she turned over in the unfamiliar bed, the sheets caressing her skin. Her eyelids felt heavy, and a dull ache suffused her entire being, as if she'd had sex for days on end. Her faded blue jeans hung lazily on a bedpost, her sweatshirt was discarded on the floor near the oak door. She had no idea where her socks and shoes had gone. Janey propped herself up on one elbow, not worrying about the sheet that fell away from her, exposing her. Miranda sat naked, leaning forward in the overstuffed chair, her elbows resting on the windowsill. The satin gown, which had fallen from Miranda's body almost as soon as the door had snicked shut, still lay crumpled like a http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (12 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


dove roosting on marble. Phantom fingers danced over Janey's bare skin, exploring, tickling. She fought the resulting tingles. Janey swung her bare feet from beneath the sheet onto the warm marble. Miranda glanced over at the movement, smiled, but returned to gazing out beyond the room without saying anything. As Janey approached, her steps became increasingly slower until she finally stopped behind Miranda. Her fingers reached for the bare shoulders of the girl, but fell short, returning to brushing her own thighs. "What's the matter?" Miranda asked quietly. Her eyes didn't leave the window and the view beyond. Janey inhaled deeply, feeling the clean air fill her lungs. It smelled a little like Wisconsin, and her heart skipped a beat. Instead of answering the seated girl, she, at last, allowed her fingers to find the silky skin of Miranda's shoulders. She stroked quietly for a moment, then rested her chin in Miranda's hair, following Miranda's gaze out into the courtyard. The girl who had previously been tied to the tree was now lying spent on the grass, her blonde hair fanned out like that of an angel. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest rose and fell in a satisfied gallop. The man lay with his head in the crook of her arm, looking decidedly tired, his book, long forgotten, lying at the base of the tree. Sondra and her partner were nowhere to be seen, though many other couples were still exploring but in a slow sensual manner, almost as though anticipating something larger, biding their time. Nobody appeared to be actively engaged in intercourse as the two girls watched from above. Nobody glanced upwards to regard the girls framed nude in the window. "You missed them," Miranda commented lazily, her eyes tracking the exhausted girl and man near the tree. Janey shrugged, still aching a little from the intimate games she and Miranda had shared earlier. Voyeurism could be fun, but at the moment she wasn't particularly aroused. She lightly kissed Miranda's hair and padded back to the bed. As she sat down, she felt Miranda's eyes on her. She resisted the futile urge to cover herself; Miranda had long ago seen all there was to see. Miranda had leaned back in the overstuffed chair, her arms crossed http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (13 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


carelessly under her bare breasts. Her legs were also crossed, her left toes swinging idly through the air. "It's real, but it's not, you know ..." she spoke quietly. Janey looked up in confusion. "This place," Miranda continued. "It's real, but ..." Janey finished her thought for her. "There's magic." Miranda merely nodded, her locks brushing her bare shoulders. She brushed a stray cluster of hair back behind her ear. Janey swallowed as Miranda rose fluidly, like a cat, from the chair. Miranda knelt in front of Janey, her forearms resting easily on Janey's bare thighs. Janey trembled at the contact. "Enjoy yourself," she whispered. "Or else Crimson brought you here for nothing." "Speaking of that lizard ..." Janey feigned anger, but couldn't hold it. She glanced towards the locked door as if expecting the infernal creature to mosey carelessly through it. Miranda smiled. "He dropped by while you were sleeping." Janey unconsciously covered her breasts with her hands. Miranda laughed softly. "To begin with, he's seen you naked, if you remember correctly. For all I know, maybe you've even slept with him." Janey didn't remember Crimson ever seeing her naked, and certainly would have remembered anything more intimate, but she didn't exactly trust her memory either. She nodded, pretending to know, but being as non-committal as she dared. "Second, you were under the covers, and, lastly, I didn't let him in," Miranda continued with a smile. She reached up and gently touched Janey's fingers. "He was just checking up on you, anyway. I told him that I was taking care of you. Can't have you shacking up with just anyone, can we? Have to pace yourself." Janey blushed, but slowly lowered her hands. "And besides," Miranda grinned, "Mercury will be coming in a while." She placed her finger against Janey's lips before she could protest or present any other questions. Abandoning the last vestige of the world on the other side of the portal, Janey lost herself in sensation. Miranda gently pushed her back onto the bedsheets, while Janey savoured the soft skin brushing against her own as Miranda followed. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (14 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


"There's magic here," Miranda whispered as their lips touched again. A soft knocking woke Janey with a start. Disoriented, she opened her eyes and calmed her initial panic. She held her breath for a moment, and then let it out slowly between pressed lips. The knock repeated, grounding Janey in the castle room. Janey glanced back towards the chair at the window, half-expecting Miranda to be sitting there, dressed in her white gown, and reading Shakespeare. When the chair turned out to be empty, she slowly realised that the soft weight across her chest was Miranda's right arm draped easily below her breasts. Miranda's breath flowed regularly, sleep having finally overtaken her. Soft, late afternoon sunlight had replaced the brightness from earlier. She wasn't wearing a watch, but Janey guessed the time should be about 5:30 PM, judging by the light. Janey was tempted to call out, turn away the visitor, but that would surely awaken the brunette sleeping peacefully beside her. Instead, she carefully moved Miranda's arm and then slipped from the bed. The air had cooled noticeably since they had begun the afternoon tryst. She shivered slightly as her bare feet connected with the cool marble. As she approached the oaken door, she heard a slight sigh from the other side of the door, and another half-hearted tap. "If that's Crimson, you can stop knocking and come back later," Janey whispered, hoping that her voice wouldn't awaken the sleeping girl in the bed, but yet would penetrate the heavy door. A quiet feminine voice replied from the hallway. "Crimson? What would he ...?" Janey stepped back from the wood of the door and nearly slid the latch back. Abruptly, she realised that she hadn't a stitch on, and though she doubted that her nudity would shock anyone here, she didn't think it appropriate to answer the door in that condition. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Miranda had kicked off the bedsheet. "Just a second," Janey whispered with half irritation. She considered pulling her jeans and sweatshirt back on, but decided against it; it would be far too much trouble. She padded over to the bed, covered Miranda, then returned to the door. She bent, picked up the discarded white gown and slipped it over her shoulders, quickly http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (15 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


knotting the sheer belt. It was small on her, but she didn't intend to be wearing it very long. She slipped the bolt free on the door, cringing at the screech. She peered around the edge of the door. A woman in a white tunic stood with her back to the door. Her blonde hair hung halfway down her back in straight braids. As the door creaked open, she turned to face Janey, an apologetic look upon her fair features. "I woke you. I'm sorry," she murmured. Janey nodded, her harsh words dying on her lips. "Miranda's still sleeping," Janey whispered. The girl looked vaguely familiar. Tired of half-recognising people, Janey sighed quietly. "I'll come back later," the girl said, and turned away from the doorway. "Go back to sleep." Janey fought with her memory, a partial view of a party, this girl dancing wildly onstage to a distinctive sixties beat. The image vanished before she could focus on it. She shook her head. Miranda's last mysterious words prior to distraction echoed through her mind. 'Mercury will be coming soon.' "Mercury?" The tunic-bearing woman turned lips, glancing up and down the enough, Janey slipped through. The hinges complained, but she disturbed.

and merely smiled. Janey pursed her corridor. Opening the doorway wide She eased the door closed behind her. was almost sure that Miranda wasn't

"That thing is Miranda's, isn't it?" Mercury spoke quietly, her eyes on the ill-fitting dressing gown that Janey wore. Janey flushed and replied with a non-committal "Mmmh-hmmm." Noting Janey's flushed cheeks, Mercury laughed gently. "Crimson kind of told me where you and Miranda were. I already guessed the rest. Nothing to be ashamed about. Not here." "Crimson? Where is that damn lizard?" Mercury's eyes glittered for a moment. "Crimson? Well, I think there were a couple of women, and some rope involved, but really, I didn't see much." Miranda shifted her weight to her other foot. "He's probably involved in the planning, right now." She changed the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (16 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


subject, "I don't remember you being that tall." Janey tried to force the memory of their last meeting back into the forefront of her consciousness. A dancing girl in a crowd. She shook her head in frustration and confusion. Mercury, though, didn't appear to notice. Janey pulled idly at the diaphanous fabric and ran her fingers through her hair. The magical hair combing had long since vanished amongst tangled sheets and Miranda's fingers, and her skin needed soap and water. She hesitated a moment before asking, "Is there a shower around here?" Mercury grinned at some inner memory. "Sounds like a great idea. I need one, too, before the Festival." "I sort of meant, a shower I can use alone," Janey winced knowing how it sounded. Mercury, though, didn't appear fazed. She took Janey's fingers and gently began to guide her down the hallway. Janey pulled her fingers back after a few steps, causing Mercury to turn again. "What?" Mercury asked. "I. I can't go like this," Janey turned back towards the room. "Like what?" Janey pulled on the satin encasing her nudity, careful that the ill-fitting garment didn't open. Mercury laughed again, her smile infectious. "First of all, you aren't planning on showering with it, are you?" Janey shook her head slowly. "Secondly, if you go back in there, you might wake up Miranda, and believe me, she needs her rest." Janey nodded reluctantly, but as Mercury opened her mouth to continue, Janey quickly interrupted her. "People will be staring at me. Even you noticed that it wasn't mine." Mercury appeared to mull this over for a moment, then lifted her eyes to capture Janey's. She nodded. "I think you might be right."



At this, Janey turned to press her fingers against the door to the room. As she turned away from Mercury, a flying soft object landed gently on her head, draping over her shoulder. She stifled a scream, turning quickly back towards Mercury. Before she could utter anything, her jaw dropped. The girl was standing in the middle of the hallway, wearing nothing but her smile. Janey reached back and plucked the white tunic from her head, holding it loosely at her side. Mercury grinned. "And now they won't even notice the gown. Fair enough?" The tunic dropped to the stone of the hallway from Janey's loose fingers. "You ... you don't have to do that," Janey managed. Mercury shrugged. "You really aren't used to this place, yet, are you? I'm always like this. Relax. Come have a shower." Mercury again slipped her fingers into Janey's and pulled her effectively towards the end of the corridor. Janey stumbled once, but managed to stay upright. They passed a number of people in various states of undress; all waved and greeted them. True to her word, Mercury seemed to be the focus of attention. Not one person commented on the satin garment. "May I take your gown, Miss?" Janey turned as they entered the lobby of the communal showers. She hesitated for a moment, but after a soft touch of support from Mercury, she slipped the garment from her shoulders and handed it to the younger female attendant. She idly wondered how she would claim it later. As if to answer her unasked question, the attendant continued with a smile, "And for whom are we holding this?" Mercury leaned forward onto the desk, with a smile playing about her lips. "For Crimson." The girl behind the desk looked at Janey, frowned thoughtfully, then looked back at Mercury for a moment. "That's not Crimson, is it?" she whispered. She looked more closely at Janey, making Janey flush all the way to her toes.



Mercury laughed while Janey stammered out a stiff denial. The attendant grinned, apologised half-heartedly, but picked up a pen in her left hand and wrote down "Crimson Dragon" in block letters on a slip of paper. "Have a nice shower, and watch out, it's pretty steamy in there this afternoon," the attendant commented over her shoulder as she turned towards what Janey presumed was the equivalent of a cloakroom. The sound of falling water, intermixed with low sighs, filled Janey's ears as she and Mercury stepped through the entrance doorway. Steam swirled through the humid air. Mercury's fingers gently closed around Janey's as they moved quickly through the huge room. "Are there, uh, guys in here?" Janey whispered to Mercury as they settled beneath adjoining sprays of very warm water. Mercury sighed as the water began to sluice over her skin, then laughed. "Of course, why wouldn't there be? I think I heard one of the beasts over to the left." Mercury waved off vaguely with her left hand. Janey, far more used to conventional facilities, shrugged. "What about, like, impropriety? Harassment? Improper ... uh ... advances?" she asked. Mercury laughed again gently. "Here?" "It can happen anywhere, but ... it's ... it's a shower for pity's sake." Mercury broke from her shower, wandered over, sharing Janey's spray. She looked up into Janey's face, placed her hands on Janey's wet shoulders, and stood up on her tiptoes. Without warning, she planted a soft, wet kiss directly on Janey's lips, her fingers idly brushing at Janey's nipples, her tongue gently flittering. Janey gasped as Mercury broke the kiss and stepped back under her own waterfall, with a small dance. Mercury turned towards Janey and grinned. "You mean like that?" Janey nodded dumbly. Mercury licked her lips, and uplifted her face into her shower. "And you were worried about men," Mercury spoke to nobody in particular. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (19 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


The soap had smelled like peaches, and the shampoo like strawberries. Janey could still almost feel Mercury's fingers massaging the soap into her back and shoulders, could almost feel her own fingers returning the favour. After that first kiss, Mercury had been nothing but respectfully playful, merely washing and then rinsing her body. Janey followed suit, though surreptitiously glancing around trying to determine if anyone was watching her. "Care for a sauna?" Mercury asked. "Are there guys in there, too?" Janey asked tentatively. Mercury gave her an odd look, hands on her bare hips, cocking her head nearly to her shoulder. "Do I really need to kiss you again?" Janey quickly shook her head. "Okay. Okay. I've learned." She held out her hand. Mercury grabbed the offered hand and began to guide Janey further into the steam. "Watch out," Mercury exclaimed as she jogged to the right. Janey's foot touched bare skin on the floor, earning her a male sounding "Hey!" from below the steam. "Sorry," she mumbled. A female voice wafted upwards, "Care to join us?" "Thanks, no." She heard a low moan, and quickly abandoned the couple to scamper in order to catch up with Mercury. Mercury was softly laughing. "I told you to watch out. And see, you found a man in here. Horrors." Janey flashed the girl a sour look, but continued to follow her. Mercury pointed once on their foray. When Janey followed her direction, she quickly averted her eyes. A girl was showering off to the right wearing decorative shiny handcuffs. Janey quickly glanced over at her again, earning herself a quick wave. The girl didn't seem to mind the attention, and Janey was tempted to wander over and ask her a few questions, but upon turning, discovered Mercury disappearing into the ever-present steam. Janey caught up to her as Mercury opened the wide cedar door, indicating that Janey should enter first. The steam in the shower felt like minor fog compared to the heat and steam present in the sauna. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (20 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


Immediately, sweat beaded on Janey's skin, and her lungs expanded involuntarily. The aroma transported her to a redwood forest deep in California. She was jolted back into the sauna by Mercury's guiding fingers gently pushing her towards the far wall. An invisible female voice greeted Mercury by name as the overly warm cedar bench. Janey relaxed, allowing infuse her muscles and ease her tensions. She closed could sense Mercury leaning back and relaxing beside

they settled onto the moisture to her eyes. She her.

After a few minutes, Janey felt wet hair draping her shoulder, and soft fingers stroking idly at her bare thigh. She half-heartedly pushed at the fingers, but they returned a moment later. "Relax," Mercury whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you." "But ..." "But nothing," Mercury replied playfully. "And besides, she'll probably be here soon enough." Janey opened her eyes in confusion. Mercury's face floated in the steam only centimetres from her nose. "Who?" Janey asked. Mercury smiled enigmatically, silencing Janey firmly with another kiss. God, she ached. Her body felt like an amusement park, and she was going to need another shower, she was sure. Sweat and moisture coated her entire body. She could still taste the salt from Mercury's slick skin. At the moment, Mercury was lying easily on her side on the bench, her head lying peacefully cradled in Janey's lap, while Janey's fingers idly stroked her wet hair. Janey struggled to calm her breathing into some semblance of normalcy, and could detect the same war being fought in Mercury. She flushed thinking of how loud their play must have been echoing though the sauna. "Christ," Janey whispered into the steam. "Amen," Mercury whispered back. They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.



The entrance door opened and shut, but neither girl could tell whether someone had entered the room, or had left it. Someone in the corner threw more water on the coals and sighed as it hissed out adding to the already cloudy atmosphere. "I thought I'd find you here," a familiar but disembodied voice spoke near them. Janey looked up, straining to see through the mists. Mercury shifted herself into a sitting position. Janey could see the smile permeating her features. "Miranda!" she rose from the bench and embraced the naked woman who had finally emerged from the steam. Janey waved, not sure that she could actually stand yet. "Having fun?" Miranda asked sweetly with a knowing smile. Janey didn't think it necessary to answer. "I think I'm going to need another shower." "Amen to that, too," Mercury chimed in. With a sigh, Janey joined the other two women as they exited the steam. In contrast, the steam in the showers was a relief from the heat. Janey slipped herself under the nearest shower and shivered. The water was warmer than she normally would use, but it felt cool after the steamroom. She rubbed at her shoulder. Despite her activity over the course of the afternoon, she felt wonderfully relaxed and unburdened. After rinsing, Janey waited while Miranda showered, lending a helping hand to wash her back. Mercury disappeared into the steam after letting her own stream of water sluice over her hair, rinsing away the perspiration and juices from the sauna. The cool air of the shower lobby raised goosebumps on Janey's bare skin as she and Miranda emerged from the showers. A naked man was bantering with the girl behind the counter, apparently trying to retrieve his clothing. The girl had a bemused expression on her face. The man glanced at Janey and Miranda briefly as they entered, but returned to his good-natured insistence that he had indeed left his clothing with the girl. Miranda grabbed two huge towels from a stack beside the garment check and tossed the green one to Janey. Janey deftly caught the towel and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (22 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


quickly wrapped it around her body. Miranda merely draped her towel over her arm, turning towards a side door that Janey hadn't previously noticed. The doorway opened into what appeared to be a normal women's locker room, except that down the first aisle a man stood combing his hair. "Uh, I think ..." she began. Miranda laughed musically and shook her head. "You must know better than that by now." Janey swallowed, pulled the towel tighter around her breasts, and followed Miranda who peeked down each aisle as she passed. Miranda greeted a number of the occupants by name as she passed. Sven. Celeste. Celia. Kim. Nick. Malinov. Watcher. Bitbard, er, Sandman. Vicky. Anne. Rui. Uther. The names all rang familiar in Janey's ear and she too waved greeting to each as they passed, until they entered the third last row. Mercury stood about halfway down the row, one bare foot raised onto the centre bench, talking to a tall, toned man wearing blue jeans. As they approached, Mercury turned and grinned. She gestured towards the man. "You remember See-El, don't you?" Janey nodded quickly, though her memory remained stubbornly vague. "He's in charge of security tonight." "Security?" "Of the Festival ..." "Oh." See-el smiled towards Janey, stuck out his hand. She took it for a moment. His grasp was firm but somehow gentle. "I was just heading out," he mumbled. "Got me a spammer influx to take care of; the idiots think that Festival is open season for nubile Asian chicks or something. Got some huntin' to do." "Huh?" See-el simply smiled, accepted a peck on the cheek from Miranda and Mercury, grasped Janey's hand again, and began to walk towards the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (23 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


entrance. "See you at Festival?" he called over his shoulder. Miranda and Mercury both called out "Yep," in stereo. "I guess," murmured Janey. Miranda and Mercury both tossed their towels into the collection bin next to the counter. Janey held onto her covering until the girl retrieved the dressing gown. Somehow she'd ended up with a different towel, purple, than the green she had started with. "Crimson, right?" the girl behind the desk enquired sweetly as she passed the garment to Janey. "Crimson?" Miranda looked strangely at the girl. "That isn't ... oh. And that's where it went," she continued as she pointed out the gown. Janey sighed but passed the gown over to Miranda. "Keep it if you want it, I don't mind," Miranda said. Janey turned toward the attendant. "Can I at least keep the towel? I'll return it as soon as I get my jeans." She pressed the gown into Miranda's fingers. Mercury shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently. "Of course," the girl nodded understandingly. Miranda grinned, turning towards the attendant. "Can I get my clothes, too?" The girl nodded, returning to the back. She emerged a moment later with a neatly folded pair of faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt. She plucked a tag that read "Janey" from the clothes. Miranda looked at Janey, cracking up at the expression. "Well," she began between laughs, "the gown was gone when I woke up. You were, too, I might add. The jeans itch in all the wrong places, and I was swimming in the sweatshirt. I damn near wandered over here nude." She glanced meaningfully at Mercury. "Like another certain exhibitionist. But the clothes smelled like you, so I left 'em on. Had to roll up the legs and the sleeves, though." She began to slip on the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (24 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


robe, handing the other clothing to Janey who quickly donned them, tossing the purple towel to join the others in the bin. Miranda slipped her hands into Janey's and Mercury's, tugging them both towards the exit. She turned to look over at the attendant. "I'll be back tomorrow, if I'm awake," she called over her shoulder. "Have fun tonight," the girl replied wistfully. The room was far cooler than when she left it, but her skin glowed with vitality after the shower. Miranda, or some other person, had supplied a light plate of fruit and bread on the bed. "Ah, I'm famished," Mercury cried as she entered the room. Not bothering with her tunic, the girl attacked the plate. Miranda, more sedately, plucked some grapes from the platter and popped one into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. She offered a grape to Janey, insisting on pushing it between her lips without assistance from Janey. Janey accepted the grape; wine exploded into her mouth. Janey collapsed into the chair, while Miranda settled onto the bed beside Mercury. "The appetiser before the feast, I suppose," Miranda commented between bites. Miranda tossed Janey a fresh roll. The bread steamed in her hand. Janey glanced out the window only to see darkness. She could hear some giggling below the window somewhere, but the sun had abandoned the landscape, and the moon had not yet replaced it. "Crimson will be by soon." Miranda commented. "You ought to get dressed," she directed the comment to Mercury. "Why?" Miranda inhaled deeply. "Because it makes Janey uncomfortable if you wander around nude. And Crimson will be here any minute." Janey interjected, "I'm getting used to it." Mercury nodded. "I'll dress before we leave. And Crimson has seen me http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (25 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


naked before. Hell, last time Janey was here ..." her voice trailed off. Janey settled back into the chair. She could see one of her running shoes poking out from beneath the corner of the bed. At least she wouldn't have to go barefoot wherever they were heading. As she rose to gather them, there was a firm knock on the door. "Come on in," Miranda called. And suddenly the Dragon was in the room, the door remaining undisturbed. Janey gasped at the entrance. Miranda laughed quietly. Janey could have sworn she heard a light "Magic," from Miranda's direction. "Er, Crimson, you've got some, ah, lipstick ..." Crimson grinned sheepishly and touched his cheek where the red mark formed nearly a perfect 'O'. The mark disappeared without rubbing. "Where?" he asked innocently. "Nevermind, you lummox." "Having fun?" he asked Janey. "Did these girls take care of you?" Janey flushed, but managed to keep her voice steady. "Many times." "I hope you aren't too tired." She shook her head slightly. Her hair still hung damply from her scalp. "It's almost time. The moon will be rising in an hour or so." "Moon?" "The big, shiny round thing in the sky, comes up after the sun goes to sleep. Wolves howl at it." "I know what the moon is. What's it got to do with anything?" The infuriating creature simply nodded. "The Festival begins with moonrise, at least for us." As if that made any more sense than average. Crimson turned towards the women sitting on the bed. Mercury playfully tossed a grape at the dragon. Without missing a beat, his mouth http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (26 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


shimmered into the snout of a true dragon, nipping the fruit from the air. His chin snapped back into human form. "You two are welcome to join us in the library," he said to the girls on the bed. Janey perked up. Library? That sounded interesting. Miranda lowered her eyes for a moment. Janey was reminded of a slave deferring to a master, Miranda's kneeling posture fortifying the illusion. But the scene shattered as Miranda merely looked up and held Crimson's eyes. She shook her head negatively, but her eyes betrayed a touch of longing for something that she hadn't yet reached out for or recognised. Mercury watched the exchange almost with a sense of anticipation. "Thanks, Crimson, but I think we'll head over with everyone else." Crimson shrugged. "You're both more than welcome at the library. You know that." Miranda took a deep breath, almost as if she were about to change her mind. "No. Thank you. Mercury and I will meet up with you two later. At moonrise. Wouldn't want to miss the pre-moon festivities." She swallowed heavily. Janey thought that, perhaps, Miranda wouldn't mind missing the pre-moon festivities as much as she professed. Janey stood quietly, crossed the marble, and began to pull on her shoes. While she was busy with that, Crimson spoke softly. "Perhaps, next year, then." Miranda simply nodded, accepting automatically a wedge of orange between her lips from Mercury's fingers. The fruit made her smile. Janey finished tying her right running shoe and straightened. She stared into the Dragon's jade eyes. As she watched, the irises shimmered into a deep brown, through magenta and back to jade. He smiled at her. "Coming?" He held out one hand, the fingers beckoning. Janey inhaled deeply, knowing what she was about to do was probably incorrect.



"I'll stay with Miranda, I think." She spoke quietly. Whatever he wants, I'm coming back in and going back to bed. She shook the memory from her mind. Crimson walked easily over to Janey, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "If you change your mind, you are still more than welcome. Anyone can direct you to the library, but we'll only be there until moon-rise. After that, we can meet at the Festival, that's where Miranda and Mercury will probably take you. Okay?" Whatever he wants, I'm coming back in and going back to bed. Janey shivered and glanced back towards the bed. It looked so inviting, especially with the women still draped across it. Damnable creature. Miranda moistened her lips with her tongue. "Janey?" she spoke quietly. "Go with him. Not many get invited to the library." Her words belied her earlier refusal to join Crimson there. Janey nodded. The library had a sense of mystery. Secret orgies suffused her mind, rites of initiation, a secret society of architects. She shook free her imagination and nodded again. Her fingers pushed at the unresisting fingers of the dragon, only to take the palm against her own. "Let's go," she said wearily. If you ride upon the Dragon, you can never get off. "See you at the Festival?" Crimson asked the women adorning the bed. "Have we ever missed it?" Crimson laughed and guided Janey towards the door. "I miss Bob. And my kids." The hallway was deserted. Janey's comment echoed up and down the expanse, reflecting off opulent marble and stonework flickering in torchlight. Crimson stopped and looked into Janey's face. "Is Bob your husband?" Janey nodded slightly. "Bob's the name I use in stories, anyway. It's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (28 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


as real as Janey is, I suppose." After about a minute, he guided her gently to the side of the corridor. She leaned heavily against the cool stone, crossing her ankles. Her fingers fidgeted of their own volition. "Do you want to go home?" he asked her gently. She hesitated, tried to look into his eyes. Couldn't. Tears threatened. She shook her head, her eyes fascinated with his feet. At least they didn't shimmer into claws at her attention. His fingers raised her chin without resistance. "Really?" "I want to go. I want to know why I'm here. I want to know why I'm standing in this strange hallway, tired, having just made love to two women, in a communal shower no less, and I'm not even wearing underwear. I want to know what the hell is so all fired important in the library. I want to know what the hell Equinox and the moon have to do with a damn Festival. I want to know why I'm not at home, in my bed, with Bob." Her eyes held his; the tears retreated, frustration reigning. He smiled gently. He mumbled a string of gibberish, and waved a hand. A shimmering sapphire portal appeared in the hallway. Janey could feel the air swirling lightly around her ankles. She tossed her hair, feeling it brush her shoulders. She felt like stripping off her clothes, dropping them on the marble before approaching the gateway. Instead, she walked slowly to it, sensing Crimson's eyes gently watching her back. She stopped, her nose five short centimetres from the swirling tunnel. The swirling luminescence was hypnotic. She thought she could see her front yard through the turbulence, but in the next instance it was gone like a fleeting glimpse of a ghost. "I should. God, I should," she spoke to nobody in particular. She inhaled sharply, willing her feet to make that last step. They refused. Sighing, she turned. Crimson was leaning against the wall, in the same posture she had occupied a moment ago, except his arms were crossed easily across his chest. As she observed him, he shimmered from male, to female, from blonde to brunette, from unclothed back to clothed, into the dragon form for three seconds before returning to the dark man to whom she was beginning to get accustomed.



He cocked his head to the side. "You are here, I think, because you needed to be," he whispered. She sensed the portal close behind her even before her eyes registered the fading blue of its radiance. "I still miss Bob. And the kids." "I know." She'd never been in a Gentleman's Club before, but the room that emerged as Crimson swung open the heavy, oaken door struck her as distinctly masculine. Endless shelves of books surrounded comfortable reading chairs, all with private end tables. The faint odour of cigars, leather, and perhaps pipe smoke assailed her nostrils. A few faces looked up at their entrance, some nodding greetings. She spotted Mat on the other side of the room, engaged in quiet conversation with a petite Asian girl. Various men and women were spread out throughout the large room, mostly reading, but some scribbling or talking. Most were dressed in suits, or formal attire, making Janey's jeans and sweatshirt seem out of place. She took some comfort in the fact that Crimson was dressed as casual as she. A younger woman was even stretched out on her tummy on the floor, her bare feet idly kicking back and forth as she read a larger book. She began to relax a little. "Care for a drink?" Crimson asked Janey, causing her to start. She nodded dumbly. As he moved away from her, she began to examine some of the books nearest the door. Shakespeare beside Stephen King. She cringed and turned away from the shelves. "... the Blowjob Principle reigns supreme ... if people want to continue ... a bit of stroking isn't unreasonable ..." Her eyes tracked to a striking woman talking quietly to a young man. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but Janey couldn't place her. The woman looked up, perhaps feeling Janey's eyes on her, but her lips didn't stop moving. Janey tried to look away, but the woman continued to regard her until Janey finally returned the stare. The woman smiled and waved a greeting before switching her gaze back to the young man to whom she was speaking. "That's Celeste," Crimson whispered in Janey's ear as he pressed a glass of red wine into her fingers.



"The Celeste?" "She doesn't often come to these events. Busy. Busy." Crimson mumbled. Crimson touched Janey's shoulder and guided her towards Mat. Mat looked up and smiled a greeting. Janey waved, but Crimson gently propelled her towards the bookshelves behind Mat. He pointed to a worn book upon the shelves. "The Kama Sutra?" Janey asked, half in jest. "An original copy." Janey stared at the creature, who merely smiled. She traced her fingers over other spines, a trail of dust settling to the hardwood beneath her feet. Reage. Dickens. Trotsky. Urquhart. That last name made her pause. "Janey's September?" she inquired quietly. "We collect all stories here," he replied with a smile. "There's probably others that you might recognise, too, if we had time to check out the place." Crimson gently removed the book from her fingers and replaced it into its slot. Slightly overwhelmed, Janey followed the Dragon to where Mat was sitting. The taller man from the shower locker room had joined Mat and the girl, Janey struggled to remember his name. See-El. Proud of herself, she spoke as she approached. "See-El, nice to see you again." He grinned at her, a mischievous smile gracing his lips. "Janey. I nearly didn't recognise you outside of a towel." Janey blushed, but managed to contain her embarrassment as Crimson shot her an 'and-what-have-you-been-up-to' look. Mat stood and took Janey's hand. "M'lady," he made an exaggerated show of kissing the back of her hand. She blushed again, but fought it down successfully. "Diane, meet Janey." The petite Asian girl rose to her feet, shaking Janey's proffered hand. After the introduction, she returned to her seat, crossing her legs. Janey took a sip of her red wine before settling into the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (31 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


opposing sofa. What looked like an antique coffee table, perhaps from the French revolution, sat solidly between the oversized sofas. The aroma of fresh leather greeted her as she sank into the couch's depths. Crimson settled beside her with a sigh. There was probably room on the furniture for about six other people. Janey swallowed and cleared her throat. "So, what's with the library?" Mat turned to Crimson. "You haven't told her yet, have you?" The Dragon merely smiled in response. Mat returned his gaze to Janey. "We just gather here before the Festival. It's ... tradition." "Who gathers here? I thought ..." Mat laughed gently. "An orgy in the library? Interesting, I must admit, but no, it's far more mundane. The authors, my dear. I can't even remember why, but the authors have to wait for moon-rise while the rest of them have a party out there." Straining, Janey could almost hear a low bass-line and a thousand voices raised as one, seeping through the thick, stone walls of the castle. In some ways, she was almost glad for the quiet in the library. "Authors?" she asked for want of a better question. "Well, and guests. And speaking of guests," he continued but addressed Crimson. "Where's Miranda?" "She didn't want to come," he shrugged. "I think she wants to finish her memoirs, and if I'm any judge, I'll wager she'll be sitting beside us next year. Maybe the next Queen." "What about Mercury?" Crimson laughed. "Why do you think Miranda didn't come?" Mat nodded in understanding. Janey wished that she understood the conversation, but at the moment contented herself with the excellent wine. Mat looked at his watch. "Almost moon-rise," he sighed. He and Crimson rose from their seats. Slowly, conversation ebbed, and most that were quietly reading looked up towards the two men. Anticipation permeated the air, infecting Janey despite her confusion. She raised her glass, sipping at the wine. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (32 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


"It's time?" Celeste asked. Crimson and Mat nodded in affirmation. Celeste continued. "I would have done it if she hadn't come, but I think Janey would be better. Honestly." Janey? Janey nearly choked on her wine. What the hell? Ambush? Was this a damn human sacrifice? Damn it, she wasn't even a virgin. Far from it. Crimson was going to pay for this. She really disliked -scratch that -- hated to be singled out. She rose to her feet, invective ready. Crimson quietly laughed, shushing her with a small wave. Janey relaxed slightly but warily eyed the small crowd of authors that watched her. Maybe we were talking about another Janey. Crimson leaned towards her. "It wasn't my idea, this time," he whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers move and shimmer, and suddenly her clothing felt heavier, and warmer. Something adorned her hair. For a moment, confusion reigned, but her fingers solved the mystery by snatching the object from the top of her head. A tiara, beautiful, jewel encrusted. She looked at Crimson in complete confusion. "The Queen, my dear." He performed a mock bow while Janey looked down at herself. Majestic purple robes adorned her, but for some reason her feet were bare beneath the outfit. "Oh no. Not me," she exclaimed half-angrily. "I told you: 'No Queen bullshit'. Remember?" Mat stepped over. Janey could sense the authors turning their gazes back to various books, avoiding the clash that was about to ensue. "Janey, it only means that you introduce the Equinox. Nothing more." "Bullshit. I'm not dressing up like this. Period." Her fingers began to pull at the buttons holding the garment together. "No Queen. I'm not the Queen, whatever that means. Understand? I'd rather go naked than this." She turned to Crimson. "Send me home. Now." Crimson took a deep breath, and gently moved Mat to the side. Mat kept his eyes on Janey, but settled beside Diane. "Janey. I'll send you home, no problem, but reconsider, please." He waved that infernal hand over her head. Her comfortable jeans, and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (33 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


sweatshirt returned as though they had never been gone. The tiara remained hanging idly from her fingers. She regarded him mistrustfully for a moment. "The outfit isn't important," he continued. "Will you simply introduce the Equinox? Dressed like that?" Janey inhaled deeply, and let the air out between clenched teeth. She pulled out the neck of her sweater, glancing downwards. "Underwear?" Crimson laughed. "I can't manufacture what you never had." Janey blushed, but held his gaze. "I don't believe you about my panties, but fine, I'll introduce the Equinox. No robes. No Queen. Just me. Okay? Satisfied? What do I have to do, you bloody lummox?" Mat rose and hugged her. The rubber band of tension permeating the room snapped. Muted conversation began again, but a sense of urgency entwined with the renewed activity. She watched as the full moon rose slowly above the trees. It flooded the forest with its ethereal rays, reminding her of a far off bedroom, with a far off husband. She shivered, half-wishing for those ridiculous, but heavy robes. Crimson stood quietly to her left, Celeste to her right. The remainder of the occupants from the library stood either behind them, or were interspersed in the murmuring crowd beyond. Despite her refusal of a throne, her girlhood fantasies welled up. In spite of the jeans, the sweatshirt and the running shoes, she embraced the vision of a princess. Crimson squeezed her hand reassuringly. Janey wondered if all the Equinox announcements were thrust upon unsuspecting women. As the time approached, the crowd murmured into silence. Only the raging bonfire sent unrelenting sparks into the night air. Even the ever-present crickets seemed to hold their collective breath. Butterflies threatened to rise from their dance within her stomach. It seemed like a preternatural silence, one that a thousand revellers shouldn't be able to summon. As the seconds ticked by, and the moon greeted the night, she raised her arms as Celeste had shown her back an eternity ago in a library mostly forgotten. Her voice, sure and strong, surprised even herself. "It is the calling of the Autumn Equinox." Her voice echoed through the clearing. A thousand voices hushed, knowing the age-old ritual. A thousand pairs of lips followed the words, like a prayer. But it was so much more than that. "We gather to celebrate the year past, and the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (34 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


year ahead. May imagination run strong within us all." She slowly lowered her arms, taking a sip of the wine that she plucked from Crimson's fingers. She impulsively turned and kissed Crimson and then Celeste. A thousand voices exploded. A deep bass-line punctuated the forest as an unseen technician flipped on a sixties disk. Janey willed her legs to stop shaking. Her legs were complaining loudly. At Miranda's suggestion, she had kicked off her shoes, despite the cooler temperatures. Soft on the underside of her feet, pine needles carpeted the clearing, somehow covering the earth in spite of thousands of dancers around the central bonfire. However, the constant dancing had nearly exhausted her stamina. She wiped the perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. Slowly, she stopped dancing and looked into the huge bonfire. She thought she saw a blue flame for a moment, then only a shower of sparks. What is love? Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more. Mercury had shed her clothes, long ago, abandoning herself to the music, her hair twirling around her shoulders. Miranda was dancing more sedately, clothed, but barefoot on Janey's left. There had been many dancing partners, male and female, whirling through their group in front of the fire, more matching Mercury's energy than those taking it easy. Abandonment ruled the night. The Thompson Twins, not named after the 80's group, but tall brothers in loud Hawaiian shirts, had just danced off to join Celeste and Celia off closer to the stage. Earlier, Sondra had whirled through with a thrown kiss in Janey's direction prompting some laughter from Miranda and Mercury. Janey had no idea to where Crimson had disappeared -probably somewhere near the enormous banquet tables to the east. She glanced back towards the clearing's periphery. She felt Miranda's fingers tugging gently on her own. Together, the three women wound through the dancers until the revellers thinned at the edge of the clearing. It was darker here, though the music was as loud as at the edge of the bonfire. Miranda pressed a stein of liquid into Janey's hand. Parched, and without thinking, Janey uptilted the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (35 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


cup, swallowing the familiar amber, sweetness quickly. "Whoa, tiger." Miranda tipped the cup down gently with her own fingers. "Nick fermented that stuff this year." Almost immediately, the mead began to tingle Janey's senses. Miranda tugged on Janey's fingers, pulling her to the needles below. Janey dropped cooperatively, sitting cross-legged and leaning back on her hands. Miranda sat as well, facing Janey. "Have to sip this stuff slowly. Savour it." The air was swimming already, and the memories of her previous experience with mead flooded over Janey. She purposely set the stein by her left thigh. Miranda laughed a little. "Crimson warned me not to let you drink this stuff. Damn, I'm in trouble again." Mercury giggled, perhaps having imbibed a little of the amber stuff herself. "I'll be fine. I think." Janey struggled not to slur her words. Mercury shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, and then back again. "Would you two mind if I ..." She glanced wistfully towards the stage, which was brimming with dancers. Janey shook her head, and immediately regretted it. Eventually the world would stop spinning, she was sure. Miranda answered. "Go on, celebrate." Mercury smiled and immediately scampered off, happily twirling naked through the crowd towards the stage. After some silent time, Janey looked over to the left. She was surprised that the alcohol seemed to be easing its grip on her almost as quickly as it had seized her. She jerked her thumb towards the edge of the forest. "You'd think they'd have some shame," she smiled. A nude couple was exploring, lying on the edge of the ever-present needles. Janey watched as the girl's fingers began to stroke lightly in the semi-darkness. "You'd think," Miranda's voice barely was audible above the pounding music. She leaned forward, her lips brushing Janey's. Her hands gently guided Janey down into the needles.



She could see the stage over Miranda's shoulder as they moved together. The music had fallen into a rare slower set and Miranda had insisted that they dance again. They remained on the edge of the clearing where it was cooler, and more private. Janey had slipped back on her jeans and sweatshirt before rising to join Miranda, but the other girl had remained as nude as Mercury was up on the stage slow dancing with Crimson. With a sigh of relief, Janey at least knew that Crimson hadn't entirely abandoned her. Her body ached, but the touch of Miranda's now naked body moving against her seemed to give her some new strength. Her latest climax had stolen what little remained of her sexual energy. Unconsciously, she let Miranda lead and she moved her bare feet through the natural carpet. Miranda's fingers gently brushed Janey's nipple through the sweatshirt. Janey shivered slightly. "Again?" Miranda asked. Janey simply shook her head, her eyes still on the stage. She pulled Miranda in tighter, continuing the dance. Sister Christian, oh, the time has come. Janey slowly released Miranda as the music wound to a close. Miranda's teeth softly bit down on her own lower lip. What's your price for flight? "You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked quietly. Janey nodded. "Stay." "I can't." Miranda stepped forward and embraced Janey, her lips brushing her cheek. "I know. Don't leave it for years, again. Okay?" From somewhere, she produced the tiara that Janey had forsaken earlier in the library. Janey didn't resist as Miranda placed it atop her head.



Janey kissed her. She could hear the music even from this vantage. The voices of the revellers reached from the clearing as if as amplified as the background, pounding beat. She could nearly hear each voice intermingled into a montage of celebration. A descending, naked, laughing girl had tossed her a silken comforter as Janey had climbed the steep steps towards the high ramparts. "You might want this," the girl called merrily before skipping recklessly down the stairs. "It's Autumn, don't you know?" Janey was thankful, now, of that kindness as she wrapped the comforter about her shoulders, wishing that she hadn't lost her shoes. The exposed stone radiated an autumn chill through the soles of her feet. The wind gently fluttered her hair about her shoulders. She could see the bonfire from here, its glow lighting the forest noticeably in the area of the clearing. Far below, couples walked towards the various paths leading to the Festival. Other couples, like Janey, were walking or dancing away from the clearing towards the Castle, or the other outlying buildings. It appeared that the pub was nearly as frenetic as the clearing had been. She was almost sure that she recognised Nick and Sven down there, hoisting a mug of ale, toasting with various miscreants. The moon, now high overhead bathed Janey in its reflected light. She watched it for a while. It seemed to be the same body that inhabited her sky in Boston; the same moon that shone down upon a Wisconsin landscape. Half expecting to see a dragon wisp across its face, she finally lowered her eyes. Turning her back on the forest below, she leaned back against the low protective wall. Pulling the comforter tighter, she let her thoughts wander. A smile pulled insistently at the corners of her lips. When she returned to gaze out over the land, he was suddenly beside her, sitting easily on the wall, his feet dangling over the edge. It reminded her of a porch rail, an eternity ago. The height didn't seem to bother the creature. "You all right?" he asked her quietly. She took stock of herself. She ached in all the right places. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Her legs were going to really punish her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (38 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


tomorrow. Her feet were freezing. She missed Miranda. She nodded slowly. "My feet are cold, but I'm better than I've been for a long time." The Dragon smiled as if he'd already known that. They watched in silence, listening to the sounds of the night. "I see you decided to go with the tiara." Janey grinned, plucking it from her hair. She handed it towards the Dragon. "Miranda." "I'd figured." He pressed the tiara back into her hand. She gripped it lightly, letting it dangle against her thigh. "I'm going to miss her." "I know." The Dragon hitched himself up into a more comfortable position. He touched his fingertips, forming a bowl out of his hands. A blue swirling coalesced into a transparent ball. Her eyes were drawn to the image projected therein. Miranda moved her still naked body in time to the distant beat, which had slowed down from the frantic dance tempo that had permeated the forest. Her eyes seemed to be far away, but she still seemed to be aware of the music surrounding her. As Janey watched from afar, Mercury joined Miranda in an easy slow dance. Mercury said something in Miranda's ear that made her briefly smile before Crimson winked out the crystal ball. "She'll be fine. Trust me." Crimson spoke quietly. Torn, Janey nodded. "I'll miss them." Crimson nodded. After a last look at the landscape, Janey turned. The familiar portal stood on the other side of the circular rampant. She impulsively hugged the Dragon, and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "You're staying, aren't you?" she asked. "For a while. It's the Equinox. Dragons revel in Equinoxes," he answered with a grin. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/AutumnEquinox.html (39 of 41)8/15/2005 12:06:58 AM


"The other end of this isn't on my roof, is it?" Janey pointed towards the portal. The Dragon merely grinned. "Damn lizard." She kissed him once more. "Thanks. I. I needed this, I think. Say goodbye to the others for me? Mercury especially, I never got the chance." "I already did." He pulled himself off the wall to stand with her. The music had returned to a driving sixities beat. Even here, she could distinctly understand the words. I'm Crazy 'Bout a Mercury. She smiled, her mind's eye picturing the naked nymph twirling about the stage, living her song. With a sigh, Janey's feet walked determinedly around the edge of the tower, stopping short of the portal. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the refreshing air. On impulse, she returned the tiara to her hair. It fit perfectly. She glanced back to the opposite edge of the tower. The Dragon remained where she'd been standing. He waved and smiled. "Equinox comes twice a year," he called. She smiled, and returned the wave. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the comforter, and stepped into the portal. The intense falling sensation overwhelmed her senses. The wood of the porch beneath her bare feet comforted her as she bent to retrieve the keys that she'd dropped so long ago. The mantle clock had resumed its comforting metronome cadence. Automatically avoiding the third step, she ascended to the second floor. The children were still fast asleep, as was her husband. She settled into the chair beside the window, slowly unlocking and raising the pane. The moon was overhead, full, filling the room with a soft even glow. The air raised the fine hair on her forearms as she leaned on the sill. An indistinct, crimson form flitted across the face of the lunar orb. She reached up, pulling a jewel encrusted tiara from her hair.



She turned as a familiar voice, half asleep, mumbled from the bed. "Come to bed, honey." "Until the Spring," she whispered to the moon. Her fingers lowered the pane. She rose and walked to her side of the bed. Not bothering with removing her clothing, she slipped back between the sheets. She ached. His arm encircled her, and she sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, welcoming her dreams.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Tess - Crimson Dragon

Tess © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Tess (FF, F, cons, outdoors, rain) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 1999 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

She stood silhouetted against a turbulent sky. The grey clouds tumbled over each other as if engaged in an apocalyptic combat. They licked at each other with faint traces of white-hot sabres, the rumble of the aerial warfare echoing through her senses. The sea below tossed as the wind steadily increased, the whitecaps cresting and thundering into the rocky shoreline so far below. The air carried with it the stinging smell of salt, which burned at her nostrils like acid. The atmosphere tugged at her clothes as though it were alive and wished for her to shed the confining coverings, to join the swirling vapour and angry water in its violent dance. It beckoned her to be free of uncertainty and loss and pain. She gazed impassively out at the uncaring sea. Her brunette hair streamed out from her head, whipped by the force of the gale that was ever present here. Yet somehow, it was different this time. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (1 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


She closed her eyes and opened her senses, feeling herself slip away and join the insane combat of the clouds far above. She peered down upon the world, seeing herself standing alone, her running shoes anchored to the soft grass beneath her feet, her arms outstretched in supplication to whatever gods had created this storm. Her face uplifted as though encouraging the rain to begin anew. A faint voice echoed through the trance, calling her name through the turbulence. A woman's voice, a familiar voice. Tess. But it couldn't be Tess, could it? Tess wasn't in the vision, she was sure of that. She dared not hope; she dared not believe the voice could be her. The wind was playing tricks on her ears, whistling in a feminine voice as it flowed over the lip of the cliff. Nature was a cruel mistress sometimes. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt more than a whispered voice beckoning her. Small fingers touched her shoulder, connecting them. Tess. "Have you ever done it?" Audra looked up from intently staring at her salad where she was trying to spear the last stubborn piece of lettuce with her fork. The murmur of indistinct conversations surrounded her, emanating from nearby tables in the busy cafe. The question had originated from across the table. Audra put on her puzzled look and regarded the woman who'd queried. Tess was one of those women that could look attractive after being caught in a hurricane. Her longish blonde hair gathered about her shoulders, framing a chiselled face that should have belonged to a model, but instead was owned by a high priced and brutally intelligent criminal lawyer. Audra tried to tear her gaze away from the girl, but for the millionth time found herself falling into Tess's eyes. Those eyes flashed, and in the dim light of the cafe, caught an odd reflection, turning Tess's blazing cobalt eyes a deep shade of violet. Audra flushed and with a small gasp tore her eyes from the woman across the table. She looked back down at the stubborn leaf of lettuce.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (2 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


"What did you say?" Audra asked quietly. When she looked back up, Tess's eyes had a playful smile dancing through them. Tess had to know. Audra could almost witness the emotions radiating from her own body in waves for anyone to read like words upon a blackboard. And if nothing else, Tess was perceptive. She didn't exactly require physical waves of emotion to read someone. She had to know. Her eyes still dancing, Tess repeated her question. "Have you ever done it?" Audra's mind whirled. Done what? Fantasized about illicit love? Fantasized about being with another woman? Wanted to dance really slow in the rain? With Tess? With this girl, asking her an innocent question in a crowded cafe? This girl, her friend since before she could remember? She swallowed heavily, praying that her sudden thoughts weren't apparent on her face. Was the tension going to break today? Was Tess finally going to stop the game that had been building more urgently during the past weeks? Audra stammered, "D-done what?" Her heart hammered like it always did while she was in Tess's presence. Tess smiled, her eyes laughing, conveying more meaning than her words. "Been interested in someone you shouldn't have? Haven't you been listening?" Her words struck a million chords in Audra who had been concentrating on making sure that her mouth didn't blurt out inappropriate words more than she'd been following the conversation. How did it ever get to something like this? Had her thoughts wandered that much? She was sure she'd been murmuring acknowledgements in the right places in Tess's monologue, not encouraging personal conversation. Was Tess asking what she thought she was asking? Suddenly Audra's heart began beating even faster, if that was possible. "I ... I suppose ..." She knew that she couldn't lie and the answering light in Tess's eyes told her that Tess knew exactly who the object of her illicit desires was - though she wasn't going to press for details. Despite the laughter in Tess's eyes, her words didn't contain a hint of understanding or acknowledgement. The game continued and Audra's heart began a slow descent back to a semblance of normalcy. "There's this new cute mail guy in the office, and ..." Tess's voice



again receded into the background. Audra fixed her eyes on those lips and waited patiently for Tess to finish her story about being interested in the well-built mail guy and her misgivings about office romances. If she could only touch those lips ... Audra tore her thoughts from that line of thinking and forced herself to concentrate on what Tess was saying. Audra knew that Tess would never date someone from her office, much less the mail guy. In some ways, she was glad that she worked for a different law firm. A law firm that ... Time came crashing down on Audra as she glanced at her watch. "Oh my God, I've got court in five minutes." Tess smiled up at her. "You work too hard, my dear." She motioned for the waitress, miming for the check. "You run, I'll get the check. And I'll see you Friday at the cottage, okay? I'm really looking forward to getting away where it's nice and quiet." Audra mumbled a quick apology and ran out of the cafe and towards the courthouse. She fought to slow her heart and push Tess's face from her mind. She had to organise her closing arguments while she ran. Tess receded into the background - for a while. Her eyes again a deep violet colour, Tess watched Audra weave through the tables until she disappeared through the doorway, where she began to run down the street. She shook her head slowly, only looking up as the waitress placed the check on the table. And the game continued. The air was damp and chilly when Audra arrived. February wasn't the most popular time to visit this section of the country, but it was quiet and peaceful. No nosy neighbours, and the two women would have the beach and cliffs to themselves. Droplets of cold rain fell against the roof, adding to the overall dreariness of the day. Her head felt heavy as though a low-grade headache might be approaching. She sighed, having hoped for better weather for this weekend. If they were lucky they still might be able to visit the beach, and watch the seagulls and the surf, perhaps even hike out to the cliffs. She shivered, and not only from the chill of the day. She pursed her lips, watching her own expression in the standing mirror. This was the weekend to talk to Tess. She had to tell Tess, or she was going http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (4 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


to explode. This game they were playing had to come to denouement eventually, for better or for worse, and she wasn't even sure if Tess was playing. But sometimes it seemed that personal explosion might be preferable to outright rejection. At least she had her fantasies this way. Yet that sparkle in Tess's eyes - she had to be feeling the same things, didn't she? Audra had never desired a woman before, so she really didn't know. She could read men, but Tess was an enigma. She turned her back on the mirror and pulled off her suit. Suits she hated them - useless pieces of cloth designed to torture and torment innocent young lawyers. The jacket and skirt fluttered to the floor like butterflies. She sighed as her skin tingled from the cool air and the sudden freedom. Judge Macintyre reminded her vaguely of the judge in her favourite movie, "My Cousin Vinnie". She could clearly imagine the contempt charges against her if she tried to be more casual in the courtroom if she wore, for instance, a leather jacket or a ridiculous leisure suit from a second hand store, not that she'd go that far. Both would have similar results. She could almost hear Macintyre's gravelly voice, "Are you mockin' me, Miss Hathoway?" Macintyre wasn't fond of her at the best of times and his devotion to the law rivalled that of most true marriages. But, she supposed, it was natural for the Judge to have a prejudice about her; criminal lawyers rarely were popular amongst the population, unless they looked like Tess. At least Macintyre was honest. She sighed and resolved not to think about work anymore. She rummaged in her pack and extracted a pair of faded blue jeans, and a checkered blouse. Turning, she absentmindedly pulled her stockings off with her toes. She bent and picked up her discarded clothing, folded it neatly and placed it on the dresser. Critically, she looked at herself in the mirror. Perhaps too thin? And not enough upstairs? She shook herself as she considered removing her bra, pressing her breasts together to increase her cleavage, just to see what she was missing. She sighed again to herself; she was being silly. She certainly didn't have the body that Tess did, but she was relatively proud of her brunette hair and she tried to keep in shape. Still, she didn't possess a perfect blonde mane or a perfect body. On the other hand, she never lacked for date invitations either, and the men weren't exactly ugly or bums off the street - they were simply all idiots. Last week she remembered the limousine that had picked her up to go the opera. She'd been



impressed - at first. However, she didn't really enjoy the opera, it being a modern one, and certainly hadn't liked the drunken pawing that had occurred over her protests in the limo on the way back. But just because some men were pigs didn't mean that she had to turn to women, did it? Was her date and almost rape last week the catalyst in the sudden interest in Tess? She doubted it, but she wasn't sure either. "Damn," she swore to herself, her frustration emerging as a whisper into the empty room. She briefly considered leaving her clothes off, only wearing her underwear, but that would really make Tess wonder, wouldn't it? And it was cold in here. She shivered again, watching goosebumps form involuntarily across the tops of her breasts. Feeling silly, she slipped on the jeans and the blouse. Her bare feet clutched at the rough boards beneath her. She turned towards the pack, intending to find warm socks, and then suddenly switched directions. She whipped the comforter off the bed and then padded out to the small kitchen, her bare feet making muffled sounds against the boards. She poured herself a glass of the inexpensive California red wine she'd brought, and then settled into the leather recliner, pulling her bare feet off the cold floor and wrapping her body in the warm blanket. She took a sip of the wine, then placed the glass on the floor beside the chair. The stereo remote was sitting on the end table beside her. With a press of a button, the room flooded with Beethoven - his Ninth Symphony if she wasn't mistaken. The music drowned out the quiet patter of the rain. She briefly wondered how a deaf person could write such beautiful notes in such perfect harmony. As she took another sip of the wine, she concluded that no human, deaf or otherwise, could intermix the notes that surrounded her. But humans are capable of such extraordinary accomplishments, weren't they? Or maybe there was magic? Audra laid her head back, and took occasional sips of the wine, refusing to contemplate the composer further. Her body and mind relaxed as she closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into the woods and strings of three centuries before. She wondered when Tess would arrive, but it didn't really matter; she had her symphony and her wine. Tess would arrive sometime, and they'd talk eventually. Nervousness welled up for a moment and then disappeared as the Ode To Joy overwhelmed her senses.



"Anybody home?" Tess's musical voice rang through the cottage, echoing off the pine panelling and then disappearing. Audra opened her eyes, disoriented in the darkness. As she heard a door close. As her bleary eyes adjusted to she could make out the flashing red numbers on the old monotonously blinking out the time incorrectly. 00:00.

she blinked, the dimness, stereo 00:00.

She called out quietly, "In here." She heard the gentle thump of Tess's shoes being kicked off at the doorway, then Tess's stocking steps as they approached the living space. "What the heck are you doing in the dark?" Tess asked as she stepped into the room. She was silhouetted by the doorway. "Did I wake you? It's only 8 o'clock ..." her voice trailed off. Audra smiled, though she was sure Tess couldn't see it. "I've been here since 3, it was light then. I ... I guess I fell asleep sometime since then." Audra stretched with a small yawn. Without turning on a light, Tess settled herself into the tattered sofa across the room. In the dim light, Audra could see the other girl's shadow curl up, getting her feet off the floor, as well. Tess stretched. "I'm exhausted," Tess remarked. "The drive up here was brutal and I couldn't get out of court. Bad jury." Audra nodded her head knowingly. "No problem. I've just been drinking wine and sleeping. Me and Beethoven." "Got anymore of that wine?" "In the kitchen; bring me a glass, too?" When Tess returned, the girls sat in silence in the dark, relaxing, sipping at their glasses, not needing to speak. Audra nearly spoke, forming the words in her mind. "Tess, I have to tell you something ... something important." But her mouth wouldn't form the words, and as the easy silence stretched, she became more



convinced that the words weren't necessary. Tess knew, somehow. A small flash of light glowed by Tess as she glanced at her watch. Tess rose to her feet. "I have to get some sleep, I nearly fell asleep there on the sofa." Audra rose as well, cringing as her warm feet touched the now icy floor. She watched as Tess walked slowly out of the room towards the guest bedroom, with a jaunty, "G'night." "Sleep with me tonight?" Audra whispered into the empty room. But there was nobody to respond. She sat alone in front of the vanity mirror that was ostentatious in the small master bedroom. Her eyes were weary, but she'd slept most of the early evening away. Perhaps the country air was giving her help in the tiredness department. Tess was probably fast asleep by now, and they had barely spoken. She sighed. Would it be a mistake, or not? She fought with herself for the better part of a half-hour before padding across the floor to rummage in her pack. The red card emerged in her fingertips and she stared at it for a long while. Cupid danced with a stylized bow and arrow, aiming at a young woman's heart. Then she padded back across to the vanity, picked up a fountain pen, and began to write. "Sometimes we find love in strange places, And sometimes words fail us, But sometimes, love appears and no words are necessary, Love, A." She sat back, a satisfied smile playing about her lips. She considered slipping it under Tess's door, but in the end placed it back into her pack, unsure if she'd ever give it to the girl asleep in the other room. As she shed her clothes, almost screeching at the caress of the cold air around her, she wondered what Tess would look like, lying in that bed that was far too big for just one. She shook her head, shaking off the images.



The sheets were positively frozen around her body. Her bare nipples reacted immediately to the frigid sheets. She snuggled down, wrapping herself in her own limbs, trying desperately to banish the cold. Eventually it warmed up in her small nest, though she couldn't move outside of her fetal position without feeling a sudden inrush of cold. Her fingers wandered down her tummy, exploring herself, caressing her skin. Her mind filled with images not of her last somewhat steady boyfriend, but of Tess, nude, walking towards her through a haze of steam, beckoning her, calling to her. Her fingers probed deeper and eventually, giving up her self-denial and tease, found the rhythm with which she was so familiar. Her soft cry, as her body climaxed, wouldn't carry beyond the pine panels. As she curled up once again and surrendered to the onrush of sleep, she thought once more of Tess. How much warmer it would be sharing her bed with the woman next door. Two sets of footprints formed an indistinct trail along the beach. The trail ended at the two women bundled in sweaters against the chill where they walked slowly along the beach, talking just loud enough to be heard above the ever-present surf. Audra pointed and then spread the blanket on a stretch of relatively dry sand. The corner of the blanket vibrated in the wind, but the blanket stayed put. The women sat and stared out at the waves, each lost in their own thoughts. "It's nice out here," Tess spoke as she stretched herself out. She took a dainty bite of the chocolate bar Audra offered her from the pack she carried. Audra nodded, drinking in the smell of the sea intermixed with Tess's light natural perfume. "It didn't work out with the mail guy ..." Tess tossed her hair which was pulled back into an simple pony-tail. Audra turned around and stared at Tess. Tess laughed easily, grinning.



"Gotcha," Tess laughed. Audra heaved a sigh of relief. Just the image of Tess with someone else tore at her. She knew it was silly, but love was silly, wasn't it? And besides, Tess wouldn't actually have been with someone from the office. She was sure of that. "I didn't even talk to him," Tess continued merrily. "Turns out the guy has a band of gold upon his left ring finger. I wonder what that meant? And who the lucky lady is?" She grinned. "Tess ..." Audra began. She wanted to tell her how happy she was that the mail guy was married, how happy she was that Tess wasn't really attached to anyone. She wanted to say a million things, but she didn't. Tess turned towards her and smiled. "What's up? Something on your mind?" Oh yes, Audra thought. And something on my mind last night. She could still feel tingles from her illicit self-indulgence the previous evening. "No, not really," Audra shook her head to emphasise. Chicken, that's all I am, a bloody chicken, Audra chastised herself. Instead of continuing the conversation, she dug through the pack looking for another chocolate bar. Her fingers touched the paper of an envelope. She drew in a deep breath and extracted it from the mess in the pack. She swallowed, counted to five, turned around, and handed the card to Tess. "Happy Valentine's day," Audra mumbled before she could change her mind. Her heart was hammering like the surf pounding into the shore. Tess's eyes widened a little, but she took the piece of paper from Audra. The red card appeared as if in slow motion, Tess's eyes scanning the personal words. She smiled, but it wasn't her normal easy smile. Audra felt a pit begin to form deep in her stomach. "Thank-you." Tess carefully tucked the card back into its envelope. "I think it's going to rain later," she waved out towards the open sea.



Audra felt hot tears begin to form in her eyes, but she willed them back. Tess was supposed to have returned the sentiments, stopped the game, pushed the unspoken into the realm of reality. They were supposed to talk about it, not about the weather ... Tess hadn't done it on purpose, she'd been startled, that's all. Maybe there wasn't a game after all? Maybe all the words, the innuendo, all the smiles were simply as they appeared on the surface. The pit grew larger deep in her stomach, but she forced herself to reply. "Probably, and we shouldn't be caught out in it." Audra scrambled to her feet. Tess, looking for the first time a little uncomfortable, rose to her own. They quickly gathered up the blanket and candy wrappers, stuffing them haphazardly in the pack. The silence became uncomfortable between the girls as they began to walk back towards the small cottage. Their footprints slowly dissolved in the surf almost as quickly as they appeared. "Would you like a glass of wine?" Audra asked as she entered the kitchen. She shivered, even her sweater wasn't quite protecting her from the sudden chill. Tess looked like she was a million miles away. She slowly shook her head as Audra poured a glass for herself. "I ... I think I'm going to take a walk. Is that alright with you?" Audra fought off the sinking feeling in her stomach and managed a shrug. "Do you want me to come along?" "I know the area ... I grew up here too, remember?" There was a bit of a smile still there, but nothing like the former radiance that Tess had displayed before the beach. "Tess ... maybe we should talk," Audra screwed up her courage, frightened of the likely answer. Tess silently shook her head and wrapped her sweater tighter around herself. She moved quickly to the front door and slipped on her shoes.



"When are you going to be back?" "I really don't know," Tess replied as the door shut quietly behind her. Audra sighed and returned to the leather recliner. She swallowed half the wine in a single gulp. Stupid. So stupid. She fought off the tears that threatened, stereo. Beethoven couldn't lift her heart how beautiful the notes. She took another that Tess would return sooner rather than

and then flipped on the or her spirits, no matter sip of the wine and hoped later.

If anything, the wind had become stronger as the afternoon turned into early evening. Audra shivered as she wrapped the sweater about her shoulders. She half expected the coming storm to bring snow, though snow in this area was exceptionally rare. Her afternoon vigil had been ineffective. The only reason she knew that Tess hadn't completely run was that her old beat up Dodge was still parked on the gravel of the driveway. The light was beginning to fail, and still Tess was out there somewhere, probably trying to think of a polite way to leave early from this disaster of a weekend. The last drop of wine swirled in the bottom of the glass. Audra looked down at the red liquid, contemplating how it might have been a tear tinged in blood. She raised the glass to her lips and tasted the sweetness on her lips. She'd resisted drinking that last sip for an hour, but now that it had disappeared, she took a deep breath. She'd been standing at the window for the entire time, waiting patiently, her eyes scanning the clearing around the cottage. Making up her mind, she gathered her sweater about her shoulders and walked to the front door where she pulled on her running shoes. The old oak door squeaked on its ancient hinges into the gathering night as she stepped onto the small front porch. Her eyes scanned the trees, but no movement apart from the wind was evident. Tess was gone. Knowing that she'd probably return to a driveway devoid of Tess's old http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (12 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


Dodge, Audra stepped out. Audra began to walk, an inner voice guiding her. She didn't look back. The tempest was steadily rising, the wind swirling about her in the gloom. She'd been warned repeatedly as a child to keep away from the cliffs. Of course, that had driven her to explore them, knowing every nook, every cranny. She knew every turn of every path to take her to the cliffs, even in the gathering darkness. As she stepped out from the treeline, the sound of the water breaking against the base of the cliffs intensified. She stood perilously close to the edge, gazing out at the violence of the gathering storm. Cocking her head to the side, she listened, perhaps hearing the gods at work. She thought about Tess, about her life, about death, she was. Images of her childhood flitted through her feel herself falling into a trance where time ceased mattered was the coming storm and Tess. But Tess was never be there - if she returned at all. Simply lean happily and pushing her not really. Ever.

and about who mind. She could and all that gone, and would

forward, just one little bit. The wind would assist, gladly. Oh yes, the storm would give her that tiny nudge, towards chaos and insanity. But she didn't want to die, But it would be so simple, wouldn't it? No more worries.

She tore herself from the trance, stepping back from the edge but only by a single pace. She felt the emotions welling in her, bubbling like an overfilled pot upon a stove, struggling for release like a captive too long incarcerated. "Why?" she whispered into the uncaring wind. The sound of her voice was whipped away, so that not even her ears heard the vibrations of her own voice. She waited for what seemed like an eternity, seemingly puzzled by the lack of response. She raised her face towards the gathering thunderheads. "WHY?" her scream intermixed with the crashing of waves and the howl



of the wind. Neither the wind nor water cared about her anguish and pain. Tears slipped quietly down her cheeks, feeling numb against her skin. Not getting the answer that she sought, she knelt in the wet grass and waited silently, a girl lost in a sea of violence. She stood silhouetted against a turbulent sky. The grey clouds tumbled over each other as if engaged in an apocalyptic combat. They licked at each other with faint traces of white-hot sabres, the rumble of the aerial warfare echoing through her senses. The sea below tossed as the wind steadily increased, the whitecaps cresting and thundering into the rocky shoreline so far below. The air carried with it the stinging smell of salt that burned at her nostrils like acid. The atmosphere tugged at her clothes as though it were alive and wished for her to shed the confining coverings, to join the swirling vapour and angry water in its violent dance. It beckoned her to be free of uncertainty and loss and pain. She gazed impassively out at the uncaring sea. Her brunette hair streamed out from her head, whipped by the force of the gale that was ever present here. Yet somehow, it was different this time. She closed her eyes and opened her senses, feeling herself slip away and join the insane combat of the clouds far above. She peered down upon the world, seeing herself standing alone, her running shoes anchored to the soft grass beneath her feet, her arms outstretched in supplication to whatever gods had created this storm, face uplifted as though encouraging the rain to being anew. A faint voice echoed through the trance, calling her name through the turbulence. A woman's voice, a familiar voice. Tess. But it couldn't be Tess, could it? Tess wasn't in the vision, she was sure of that. She dared not hope; she dared not believe the voice could be her. The wind was playing tricks on her ears, whistling in a feminine voice as it flowed over the lip of the cliff. Nature was a cruel mistress sometimes. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt more than a whispered voice beckoning her. Small fingers touched her shoulder, connecting them. Tess. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (14 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


Tess's lips gently touched hers, softly kissing away the tears and frustration. Tingles of electricity, to rival the lightning so far out to sea, raced through Audra's nerves. She sighed and returned the kiss, losing herself in the sensations. With a shiver, Tess stepped away, breaking the kiss. "Wh-", Audra struggled to find her tongue. Tess shook her head and touched Audra's lips, shushing her. The wind tossed Tess's hair in a frenetic dance. The air swirled around Tess as though it had created her image. Tess, Eve of the Wind Goddess. Audra shivered. Audra had seen Tess on the rare occasion that she needed to concentrate on a legal argument. Tess looked like that now, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, a slight furrow creased into her brow. Then her face relaxed, as though she'd made up her mind, or found whatever it was she was looking for. Her fingers stole to the base of her sweater, playing with it as though they were aware that Audra's eyes were fixed on them with awe. Slowly, as if in a dream, Tess's sweater lifted and then fluttered to the ground at her feet. Then the fingers began a journey, one of intent and concentration. The furrow returned to Tess's forehead, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed. Audra's heart hammered as each piece of clothing fell silently to the wet grass. Blouse, jeans, hiking boots, socks, and finally brassiere and panties. The clothing fluttered in the wind as it lay uselessly surrounding the girl. At last, the woman stood gloriously nude, the forest her backdrop. Her nipples rose and tightened against the cold of the wind, but she made no move to cover herself. Tess's eyes opened and she gazed at Audra. She shivered and hugged herself, her eyes never leaving Audra. She reached up and loosed her hair, which surrounded her head like an aura as it fluttered in the violent air. Again her lips touched Audra, searching for her warmth. Fingers tugged at Audra's sweater, her clothes, the kiss only broken to allow the bulky sweater to be pulled from Audra's body. As the fingers shed Audra's clothing, they moved their bodies to the low music of the wind, the same driving melody filling their minds and souls. They danced, shivering and kissing, arms entwined about their necks, slow



music of the storm surrounding them. They fell amongst the intermixed clothing, rolling and laughing, feeling the sensations of each other, feeling the wet grass beneath them. Fingers explored, at first randomly, then with more purpose, touching hard nipples and soft folds. Audra cried out as the first spatters of icy rain caressed her back and flowed through her hair. The sudden cold only moved her to reach for the warmth of the body beneath her. Wet skin tingled as their fingers sought out each other, delving into secret places, exploring. As one, the girls climaxed, their soft cries lost in the howl of the wind and the hammering of the rain into the wet earth. Blue light flashed behind Audra's eyes as her muscles gripped at Tess's fingers and she could feel the simultaneous rhythmic tightening of the other woman's body. The rain coated her face as she stared up at the clouds. A flash of lightning illuminated the other girl. Tess propped herself on an elbow and gazed down at Audra, letting her eyes wander the body of the woman she'd explored so thoroughly. She leaned down with a kiss, her fingers still lightly caressing Audra's bared breasts and lips shushing Audra. "Later, OK?" Then, from memory, Tess whispered, "Sometimes we find love in strange places, And sometimes words fail us, But sometimes, love appears and no words are necessary." Audra smiled, and then violently shivered. Tess gathered the cold girl into her arms and slowly rocked her. Their lips were blue and they were both shivering uncontrollably as they stumbled into the old kitchen, their bare feet leaving wet puddles of water upon the floorboards. Despite the cold, they paused for a brief kiss as soon as the door was closed against the raging storm. Audra reluctantly broke the contact and hugged her bare body. "Perhaps ... we should have dressed before running," she spoke http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/tess-txt.html (16 of 19)8/15/2005 12:07:14 AM


quietly. Tess smiled and forced her teeth to stop chattering. "Why? Do you think we'll be wearing anything for the rest of the weekend?" A look passed between them, then Audra turned and moved quickly across the room. She grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine, and with a quick smile disappeared into the living room. The small flame grew into a blossom of fire that licked at the stacked wood like a frog eager to consume an innocent insect. Audra watched the energy as it left her shaking match and ignited the wood in the fireplace. The flame grew and engulfed the fuel; building slowly until the heat began to dry the frigid water from her bare skin. She sighed, letting the intensity of the flames seep into her pores and finally warm her. She was still shivering when she felt a presence beside her. "I can't let it go out," she whispered. Tess spoke softly from beside her. "There are other ways to keep warm, you know." Audra could sense Tess shivering worse than herself. "I can't let it go," she whispered again. "You won't, sweety, you won't." Audra felt the soft pressure of Tess's fingers on her bare shoulder. They remained kneeling naked by the fire for a long time. Audra had completely lost track of the time, and the stereo continued to flash 00:00, 00:00 in a monotonous exclamation of its inaccuracy. It was dark but for the light of the fire. Audra let her eyes wander over Tess for the first time, the flickering of the light enhancing every curve, every softness. In the firelight, her eyes flashed violet again, like in that cafe an eternity ago. The heat of the flames soaked into them, and but for their hair, the girls dried and gradually lost their shivers. Every once in a while, Audra fed a small stick into the fireplace, never quite letting it go out.



"Sleep with me tonight?" Tess whispered. Audra turned and smiled. Tess pointed to where she'd laid out the blankets from her bed on the floor in front of the fire. Pillows were strewn from sofas and beds. It looked inviting. Without a word, Audra crawled towards the nest and burrowed herself under the blankets, curling them up to her chin. The blankets were cold, causing her to shiver once more. She watched as Tess rose to her bare feet and then joined her under the blankets. The goodnight kiss was long and deep, lit by the flickering light from the dying fire. The blankets warmed with the heat from their bodies. "Your hair is still wet," Audra murmured. Audra felt fingers stroking her own wet hair. "As is yours," Tess commented unnecessarily. Tess smelled Audra's hair. "You smell like rain," she smiled. "The fire is going out," Audra's eyes tore themselves from the blonde and travelled towards the mantel. "It will never go out." Audra sighed in the crook particularly blonde hair,

and lay back into the pillows, feeling Tess lay her head of her shoulder. Her hair was still damp, but it wasn't cold. She gently ran her fingers through that loose liking the warmth.

Outside, the rain began to ease, the constant drumming against the wood of the roof slowing until it finally ceased. The only sound was the regular breathing of Tess, the odd plop of a raindrop falling from the oak leaves, and the occasional pop from the fireplace. When she was sure Tess had fallen asleep, she whispered quietly to nobody in particular. "It's so much warmer with you." A sigh murmured from Tess. Audra smiled as she felt tickling sensations as gentle fingers began a downward caress.



The game was over, and yet it was just beginning.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Magical Encounters - Crimson Dragon

Magical Encounters © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== Magical Encounters (MF, FF, exh, voy) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - May 1999 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== "Do you want to go?" The words glowed across her screen. She pursed her lips and watched as her fingers flew across the keys, typing a response furiously, as though her fingers belonged to someone else. She hesitated, smiled, and then climbed to her feet. She walked swiftly down the carpeted hall, first poking her head into one room, then another. The forms within slumbered on, oblivious to her trespass. She opened the door to the master bedroom with a small squeak. "I'll be back before you know it," she whispered. Her footsteps carried her back towards the study and the glowing http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (1 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


screen. "Of course, I want to go," she typed with a smile playing across her lips. She clicked the send button and then leaned back, letting her mind wander. The Dragon sat quietly in the shade, contemplating the turbulent water. The wind off the lake was pleasantly cool, driving away the oppressive heat of the sun. The sand was warm and comforting. She grew tired of waiting beside the beast. She sighed. "What are those silly things?" She pointed one slender finger towards the wetlands to the north. The Dragon turned, shifting a red scaled head to follow her gesture. "You mean the Trumpeter Swans?" Janey grinned and nodded. "Yeah, those big things." "They're good to eat," the Dragon mumbled and shifted greenish-brown eyes back to the watch that adorned its wrist. Janey leaned back against the tree. "How much longer?" The Dragon remained silent. Janey turned away in disgust and began to walk down the beach, kicking small stones as she went. "Don't wander far," the Dragon spoke quietly. "I won't. Sheesh." After a few minutes, Janey returned to the Dragon and plopped herself down in the sand again. Sweat dotted her brow. "See that?" the Dragon lifted its great eyes skyward. "What, that ball of fusion reaction that is slowly killing me with heat?" The Dragon smiled. "Yeah."

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (2 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


"What about it?" "It reaches zenith at ten seconds past noon." Janey turned towards the annoying creature with a scowl. "What? Do we go then?" "It will be equinox. Both sides of the world receive equal amounts of sunlight and darkness." "So what?" Her patience was thinning in the heat and the wind. "It's a magic time," the Dragon whispered. "Magic!?" Janey scoffed. "Magic," the Dragon replied firmly. "I don't believe in magic." "How do you explain this, then?" The Dragon held up a talon. Before her eyes, it shimmered and radiated. For a second, she saw a human hand beneath, long and thin. As quickly as it had appeared, it winked out. Janey cocked her head to the side and smiled. "Hypnosis. Optical delusion." The Dragon smiled enigmatically. "At equinox, the forces coalesce, joining together to find a path into our small corner of the universe." "And Dragons actually exist," Janey added thoughtfully. "Something like that." The Dragon stood. The watch ticked and Janey's eyes flitted to the crystal face. Exactly noon. She shivered, feeling the air charge, like static electricity before a storm. Ten seconds. A series of nonsensical words were formed by leathery lips. The Dragon's eyes had closed.



With a final upward glance, the Dragon raised its arms. The second hand of the watch froze over the two. A wall of blue fire swept over the waves, gathering three metres offshore into a swirling portal. "You couldn't have made the thing on the shore, could you?" The Dragon looked apologetic, but Janey knew the creature wasn't sorry at all. The Dragon pointed towards the glowing gateway. Janey sighed and slowly removed her footwear. She slipped her hand into the paw of the beast and they walked into the frigid waters of Lake Ontario. The gateway beckoned. The trip was surprisingly gentle - until the end. With a start, Janey found herself tumbling through unresisting air, landing with an undignified "Oof" in a field of soft grass and wildflowers. The Dragon shimmered as it emerged from the portal. With a blinding flash of light, the creature seemed to explode into a million shards, casting off the covering of scales and hide. In its place, a man emerged, tall, and dark, tumbling through the air. Almost effortlessly, he twisted, landing nimbly beside Janey. "M'lady," he grinned. Janey scowled at the man. "I'll never get used to that," she griped. The man extended his hand, the same hand that had shimmered through scales in another time and place. Janey was tall for a woman, at least 1.8 metres. Even so, the stranger, who had once been a Dragon, effortlessly lifted her fallen body. She idly brushed her dusty blonde hair out of her eyes. "Welcome," he muttered. "Are you all right?" Janey grinned and looked around, ignoring the question for now. Her body might hurt for a while, but the initial jolt of the landing http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (4 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


would fade within a few moments. The field seemed to extend forever towards the north. She surveyed the surroundings, executing a slow pirouette. "You couldn't have put the portal on the ground? Could you?" The gateway still shimmered about three metres above the meadow. As she watched, the blue swirling turbulence began to abate. In moments, it had faded out of existence. "That would take the fun out of it." Her sharp eyes picked up movement to the south. A band of sparsely dressed people appeared to be chasing a few other grimy, pathetic creatures. The villagers carried spears and other weapons. The dingy creatures scuttled on all fours, trying to evade their pursuers. "Who the heck are they?" Janey asked quietly. The Dragon turned to follow her pointing finger. His eyes narrowed. "Well, they certainly weren't invited," he muttered. "Why are they chasing those pathetic things? Come to think of it, what are those pathetic things?" The Dragon strained to see the creatures so far away. "Those critters are uninvited 'guests'. I thought we'd chased them out last time, but they keep cropping up like termites. The scuttling ones, over there, are known as 'The Spammers'. I think the one out in front is 'Hot Stocks,' and the female one, just behind, is known, at least around here, as '20 Nubile Asian Chicks'. Their names are cumbersome, but let me assure you that they are unwelcome and not tolerated. If you ignore them, they probably won't bother you here. They are being taken care of as we speak." The Dragon squinted again. The leader of the villagers threw his spear. Janey watched in fascination as the spear entered the body of one of the slower spammers. She turned away as the death scream echoed through the valley. "Another one bites the dust," the Dragon mumbled. The tall man



closed his eyes and then, as if by magic, a new spear dropped into the villager's hand. The far off man stopped in confusion, staring at his new weapon. Then he turned slowly to the north. His voice was barely audible at this distance. "Crimson! You made it!" The tall man waved jauntily. The villager turned away and merrily resumed the chase of "20 Hot Asian Chicks." Janey stared at the Dragon. "He knew you. Who was that?" "Some call him See-El, the mysterious one." "Can't I ever get a straight answer out of you?" "I suppose those are more 'Spammers'," Janey remarked as they continued up the dusty road. Crimson turned towards the east, scanning the fields. A rustling disturbed the early wheat, but it could have been the wind. "Where?" Janey stopped walking and pointed. Crimson smiled. A creature, remarkably similar in appearance to a troll, scuttled rapidly across an open patch of ground to hide under a rock. "Those critters are a little bigger, don't you think?" Janey nodded thoughtfully. The creatures still scuttled on all fours, but seemed more cunning, keeping to the shadows in an effort to avoid their pursuers. A lone, tall woman moved slowly towards the cowering creature. She wore war paint on her cheeks and a loincloth around her hips; her auburn hair tumbled free over her bare shoulders. Her eyes intent on her prey, she missed, or ignored, the two watching in fascination from the roadway. Crimson lowered his voice. "Those trolls are a subset of the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (6 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


'Spammer' population. How the hell did they get in, this time? I thought, after last time, that they'd be afraid to show their faces in here..." Janey looked up quizzically. "Story thieves," Crimson muttered. "Scourge of our domain. Worse in some ways than Spammers. And devious as all hell. It takes a real talent to track them down." The Amazonian woman had nearly reached the hidden creature. In her hand, a tomahawk began a slow and methodical rise. The creature continued to dig in the earth intent on whatever was its incomprehensible task, unaware of its fate. As the tomahawk fell, a silent scream echoed through the valley. A satisfied grin spread across the Amazon's face. She rose, finally seeing the two on the roadway. She waved, and then crouched again, intent on finding the next thief. Before Janey could inquire, Crimson spoke. "Anne. She keeps them in line for us. Some call her The Huntress." The two began to walk again, the dust rising from their feet into the still air. Crimson continued, "If you're lucky, you might see her mud-wrestle later. She always wins, but she never lacks for opponents. I heard a rumour that Maria and Allison were going to tag-team her later. You'd think people would learn..." "You can't enter like that." "Like what?" she asked. They had stopped road. Her feet ached, because she'd left beyond that, she was comfortable enough. with use, and her light blouse kept most

in the middle of the dusty her shoes at the beach, but Her jeans were worn smooth of the heat from her skin.

"Dressed like that."



"This is how I always dress." The Dragon smiled and waved his hand at her. She felt different suddenly. She bit her lip and willed herself to look down. The simple cotton shift didn't surprise her as much as the fact that she wasn't stark naked. Her feet felt odd, though. She bent at the waist, studying her toes. Sandals. She turned towards the Dragon, who was quietly laughing. "If you could manufacture me shoes, why the hell didn't you give them to me earlier?" "Did you need them?" Janey grimaced, sure that such concerns weren't the point of this. She spluttered, "That's not the point. Do I *need* the dress?" The Dragon grinned evilly. "I take that back," she back-pedalled quickly. Soft sounds began to emerge from the road ahead. Janey's ears perked up as they moved closer to what seemed like a town square, or a gathering place. As they approached, forms became apparent, most in some state of undress. Janey gasped and halted. "Oh my!" breathed between her lips. The Dragon continued, oblivious to her hesitation. After a moment, Janey ran to catch up. "What the heck...?" "It's spring equinox, remember?" "So? Those people ... they're..." "Celebrating?" The Dragon provided helpfully. Janey swallowed heavily. "Yeah. Celebrating, that's what I was going http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (8 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


to say." She couldn't keep her eyes off the couples strewn through the courtyard. One couple, a blonde female with a tall male, was leaning up against the fountain, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. She threw back her head, her long blonde hair fluttering behind her. Her low moan permeated the still air. The man was unclothed from the waist down, the girl completely naked. Janey tore her eyes from the display and scuttled over to where Crimson was standing near a tall fellow who was carrying a broadsword and a spear. "...transformed into a male, this time, eh?" The stranger was speaking to the Dragon. Crimson smiled and ruefully nodded his head. "Thought I'd try something different this year." "The blonde bombshell you appeared as last year was interesting," the fighter remarked. "Yeah, well, sometimes you have to be mysterious, especially around this crowd." Janey gasped as the Dragon flipped his eye colour from greenish-brown to a deep red and then back again, as if to illustrate his point. Janey touched his shoulder. The Dragon turned, speaking rapidly. "Uther, meet Janey. Jane Urquhart. You've probably read her stories. Orgies, experimental, humorous. She's a curious creature." Uther smiled. "You'll fit right in." The Dragon laughed at that, his skin shimmering. Janey swallowed and gulped. Suddenly her shift seemed too thin and its hem too high. She idly wondered where her jeans, blouse, and undergarments had actually gone. "Where's Susan?" the Dragon asked Uther, changing the subject.



"She's off with Mark, I think. Maybe at the barn." The Dragon nodded and shrugged. "I'm going to find myself a nice shady spot, and relax." "Some of your fans were wandering around a while back, asking about you." "They'll find me," Crimson grinned. As he turned away, another thought struck him. "Hey, Uther," he called. The big man grinned back. "Remember what happened last time. Attacking Dragons is a no-no at equinox. Keep those swords buckled." "I remember. But we rebuilt the town, didn't we?" The Dragon laughed and continued on, leading Janey away from the town square. Janey was surprised by the looks of shock on some of the people's faces. Some went as far as to kneel for her as the Dragon led her down the path. "What are they doing?" Janey whispered. "Worshipping, I think," the Dragon muttered. "They think you are the Queen." "That's ridiculous," she whispered back. A petite, brunette, naked girl was kneeling, blocking the road. Her hair obscured her face as she kept her eyes on the road. "Consider it feedback," the Dragon whispered. "Personally, I think sending a note is easier, but to each their own." The Dragon yawned and then struck off Janey followed him. Out of the corner naked girl who had blocked their path following the two, and then continued shake of her brown hair.

towards a weeping willow. of her eye, she watched as the rose from her knees, her gaze slowly along the path with a



The Dragon settled under the hanging branches and closed his eyes. "Go explore," he muttered, as he slipped into sleep. She wanted to ask a million questions, but the creature was stubbornly asleep. Dragons could be such ornery critters sometimes. She glanced first bend. Nobody did. towards the

around. The girl from the road had stopped before the She stood as though waiting for someone to appear. Janey rose to her feet and walked through the grass girl.

"Your Majesty," the girl whispered. Janey blushed, and spoke quickly. "I'm not the Queen, so you can get up off your knees and talk to me." The girl looked confused for a moment, and then hesitantly gained her bare feet. Her eyes remained downcast. Janey glanced down the road. A short distance beyond was the castle, a towering structure of dark stone silhouetted against the perfectly blue sky. "Can anyone go to the castle?" Janey asked the girl. The girl looked up in confusion. "M'lady?" "And why are you undressed?" The girl blushed for a moment, but then answered both questions. "Of course, anyone can go to the castle, and I'm unclothed because I desire it so." Janey nodded like the answer made sense, which it didn't, but it suddenly didn't seem important. "Are you going to the castle?" The girl looked hesitant, but then slowly nodded her head.



Janey, without further thought, grabbed the girl's hand and began to walk towards the portcullis. "I'm Miranda," the girl spoke softly as their feet drew them closer to the stone walls. The banquet hall was filled to capacity with all shapes and sizes of people. Most were dressed normally, in jeans and T-shirts. A few people were wearing shorts. Some were nude. As Janey entered the hall, she stepped over two girls, both naked, both moaning as fingers darted around nipples and lips. Janey watched, fascinated for a moment, before feeling a light tug on her own fingers. She tore her eyes from the naked girls, and followed Miranda over towards the tables, which were piled high with every conceivable food. Their hosts, whoever they were, were generous, if nothing else. To her surprise, she was ravenous. Janey followed the lithe girl from table to table, gathering various fruits, tasting delicacies, and heaping exotic food onto her plate. She became aware of being watched from across the watermelon. "Crimson brought you." It was a statement, not a question. Janey smiled, not knowing who addressed her. Not wanting to appear as if she didn't belong, Janey nodded slowly. The man across the table smiled and stuck out his hand. He was dressed normally in jeans and a T-shirt. Janey was suddenly conscious again of her short tunic, but the stranger didn't seem to notice. "Mat," he introduced himself with a smile. Janey took the offered hand, and began to introduce herself. "Jan-" "Janey Urquhart. I know you." The man had a gentle smile.



Miranda glanced quizzically at Janey and then at Mat. Janey searched her memory, struggling to place the man. He seemed oddly familiar, like an old acquaintance with whom she'd lost touch. "Twassel?" He grinned. "Don't you owe me a note? Hmmmm?" Janey flushed, stepping around the table to give the man a hug. Mat grunted at the embrace. "Ooof! What are people going to say?" "Who cares?" But Janey could see a disproportionate number of people staring at her. She reluctantly released Mat. "They always stare at the authors," Mat explained quickly. "Don't think about it too much." "I try not to think, it generally gets me in trouble," Janey replied with a grin. Mat glanced over his shoulder. A rather restless looking brunette, standing by the cantaloupe, was trying to conceal her impatience. "You still owe me a note," he grinned at Janey. He turned towards the petite girl standing demurely behind Janey. "Miranda, make sure Janey enjoys herself." Miranda smiled knowingly, and then began to lead Janey away from the crowd that was beginning to form around the woman who would be Queen. Mat, with a single parting wave, returned to the brunette girl who giggled as his arm encircled her waist. Janey stepped over the girls at the doorway. They were lazier now, their energetic passion expended. The girls' fingers traced slowly over skin, and softly touched Janey's ankle as she stepped over their bare legs. "There ought to be a free bedroom around here somewhere..." Miranda mumbled as she struck out down the dimly lit hallway. She knocked at a promising door. There was no reply. Without further warning, she threw open the oaken door. Immediately



Janey and Miranda blushed. A girl was tied securely and quite nakedly to the bed. The girl gasped as the other women stepped into the room and stopped. A man, also naked, stood transfixed by the side of the bed. He held a ball gag in his hand. Nobody spoke for a moment, until Miranda began to laugh. "Janey? Um. Meet Miss Behavin'." "Misbehaving?" Miranda guided Janey out the door slowly. "Close enough. I'll be more careful next time." Miranda smiled. The door snicked shut without another word. As they moved down the corridor, Janey began to make connections. Miss Behavin', was a cold and from the Great all the words,

Crimson ... this wasn't a strange magical land. It forbidding land. Canada! Didn't those two jokers come White North? It would explain all those silly 'u's in too. Wouldn't it?

She sighed as she followed the petite woman through the hall. It didn't make sense, though. Yes, 'u's were in abundance. Yes, they spelled things funny here, but then again, what makes American spelling the only way? After all, she'd already discussed such things with Crimson long ago. Yes, Miss Behavin' was here, and so was Crimson. But it was warm here, bordering on hot. Now, Canada was warm, generally, but at this time of year? Spring Equinox? And how did one explain shimmering blue portals and clothing manufactured out of thin air? Bewildered, she stopped thinking about location. It wasn't important, and thinking generally got her in trouble, didn't it? They passed another door, open this time, with two women kissing on the large bed. The women waved without parting their lips. The third door opened to reveal a quiet and quite empty bedroom. The bed was covered with an expensive looking quilt. The windows opened onto the courtyard. Janey crossed and pulled the curtains closed. Voyeurism was one thing, exhibitionism, quite another. When she had turned around, Miranda was settling herself on the bed, a grape held between her teeth.



Janey, her nerves firing through her body, sat down at the side of the bed. Miranda chewed the grape thoughtfully, and then swallowed. She offered Janey a grape. Janey reached for it, but her hand was pressed gently away. With careful touches, she was guided to her back, her head pillowed by the quilt. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Miranda crawled up the bed, another grape held lightly between her teeth. Janey closed her eyes, feeling the touch of the other woman above her. She felt the grape enter her mouth and the other set of teeth release it. The grape tasted like wine, filling her mouth with intoxicating flavour. Miranda sighed, and Janey opened her eyes again. Miranda's face hovered millimetres above her. The girl's bare breasts thrust at Janey's own, only the thin cotton of the shift separating them. Electricity sparked and flowed through Janey's nerves as lips caressed her own, travelling ever southward. The soft tongue licked at her nipples, wetting the shift, but hardening the nubs. Fingers scrabbled at the hem of the shift. Briefly, her exposure worried her, but then it seemed natural enough. After all, Miranda hadn't worn clothing since she'd met her. Janey sat, allowing the cloth to flutter over her head, and then onto the floor. Miranda gently pushed Janey back towards the bed and then let her tongue wander in ever increasing circles over Janey's hot skin. Nipples, ribs, calves, thighs. Janey squirmed beneath the touches, found her own fingers reaching for Miranda's skin, stroking, caressing. A cry echoed through the room as Miranda's soft tongue found Janey's vaginal lips. The tongue delved between, finding wetness and arousal. It took Janey a moment to realise that the moaning echoing through her ears was her own. She tried to stop, but the relentless friction of the girl's tongue continued to elicit louder and louder moans. Without warning, her body exploded, lights flashed beneath her eyelids, every muscle in her body in sudden competition. A scream echoed through the castle, travelling across the countryside.



Crimson looked up from his copy of "A Matter of Need" and smiled. She was still trying to regain her breath when the door burst open. Janey screamed and attempted unsuccessfully to cover her nudity with the quilt. Miranda was atop it, and there wasn't enough to stretch over herself. Resigned, she sat up and regarded the intruders. She nearly laughed as she noted that they were both dressed in firemen outfits, and carrying fire extinguishers. "Fire patrol, Ma'am," the larger of the two spoke. His nametag proclaimed him to be Nick, whoever that was. The other was a bit smaller, and his uniform claimed him to be Sven. Miranda had stopped whatever she had been doing to gaze at the interlopers. "Fire?" Janey asked quizzically. Her fingers were still trying to cover her from the firemen. With a flash of irritation, she noted that neither man was openly ogling her. "Didn't someone scream?" Janey blushed deeply. Miranda spoke for her. The intrusion didn't seem to bother her. "You two jokers know exactly what that was. Now scoot. She's new here." Nick grinned and aimed the fire extinguisher at Miranda. "Noooooo!" she wailed, but it was far too late. Before she could move, white foam washed over her bare skin. "Shit!" Miranda exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Nick looked worried for a moment, and then both firemen hightailed it from the room, closing the door behind them. Miranda threw the bolt on the door and then began to mutter. "Freaking firemen practical jokers." Her finger wiped at the white substance that completely covered her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (16 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


breasts. A nipple peeked out from below the foam. She stuck her finger in her mouth and sighed. "At least it isn't chocolate syrup like last time," she mumbled. She sat quietly on the bed, and guided Janey's head towards her chest. Janey tried to turn away and Miranda laughed. "It's whipped cream." "Whipped cream? For a fire?" Miranda giggled. "You didn't think those idiots actually thought there was a fire in here?" Janey, bewildered, shook her head. Instead of answering, she daintily dipped her head towards the fluffy cream. Within moments, Miranda was clean, head to foot, squirming under Janey's soft tongue. Without further interruptions, Janey's fingers began explorations, touching. With her lips sucking gently at Miranda's breast, her fingers plunged deep inside the other girl. She sensed Miranda's rhythms, finding and maintaining a gentle caress between Miranda's legs. It didn't take long for the insistent brushes to push Miranda over the edge. Another scream echoed through the castle and over the countryside. Janey smiled when there was a bump and a pair of faint "Ooofs" as the locked door to the room rattled in its frame, refusing to open. "Damn firemen," Miranda mumbled. "Serves 'em right." Crimson looked up from the story as the latest cry echoed from the castle. The last paragraph left a sense of completeness. As he dropped the pages to the grass, the wind snatched them and whisked them high into the sky, scattering them to the four corners of the land. A second scream brought a faint smile to his lips, and then a full-blown smile wiped away the last vestiges of residual melancholy from the story.



Two girls, resplendent in their nudity, were approaching the willow from the road. One blonde, one brunette. The blonde carried a length of silken cord. "Are you Crimson Dragon?" they asked quietly. The afternoon sun woke her from a light doze. She gently moved Miranda's hand from cupping her left breast, and then swung her legs out of bed. Janey watched the naked girl in sleep for a while, then padded, still naked herself, to the window. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, letting the afternoon sun flash around the room. She crouched, carefully peering between the curtains. Outside, the two firemen were merrily spraying their whipped cream at naked girls. The women screeched and ran through the courtyard, trying to avoid the messy foam. Many of them were busy cleaning each other in the shade, similarly to the way that Janey had cleaned Miranda. A tingle raced through Janey, igniting her nipples and a quick throb between her thighs. But she was exhausted. After Miranda had recovered, she'd been relentless, pushing Janey further and further into the depths of oblivion. It had taken all of Janey's fading strength to beg for a rest. She returned her attention to the courtyard. The tone of the play and the female screeching had changed. Eventually, Nick's fire extinguisher ran out of cream, and he laughed as a gaggle of girls pounced on his undefended form. A youngish waif managed to slip his trousers from his body as the other girls held his willing body down. Even in the room above, the two sighs were audible as the waif lowered her nakedness to his erection. The other girls gently removed whipped cream from the girl's breasts, transferring each morsel into Nick's mouth. Janey grinned as Sven fell to a similar fate. Sighing, she closed the curtains again and padded over to the bed. She was still exhausted, but Miranda's body was so achingly desirable. Shaking herself, she wrapped the tunic around her body and padded to the doorway. The bolt was difficult to disengage, but she managed it. She peered into the empty hallway, finally stepping out http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (18 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


barefoot. "Hi Janey," a voice whispered from the shadows. Janey turned towards the sound, her eyes widening. The voice came from a bedroom that she was currently passing. It was smaller than the one she had shared with Miranda, but still it was a room that put most hotel suites to shame. The voice came from the bed. "Who's there?" Janey called quietly. "'Tis Mat, again, fair lady. Shh. She's sleeping." Janey could make out a faint form lying in the bed with Mat, her head nestled into the crook of Mat's arm. Brunette hair fanned out across the man's chest. "The bathrooms? And the showers?" Janey whispered. Mat smiled, his teeth visible like a Cheshire cat in the darkened room. "Down the hall, turn left." Janey nodded and set out. Her bare feet whispered across the warm stone. It turned out that the showers were clearly marked, though she wasn't sure which door led to the ladies', and which to the men's. She doubted if it made a difference. The washrooms were slightly better marked and were supposedly gender specific. She wasn't quite sure if the room she entered simply had a few guys dressed as girls, but she wasn't convinced that all the inhabitants of the ladies' room were, in fact, ladies. Her business taken care of, Janey pushed open a door marked with an icon of a shower. Steam assaulted her immediately as she slipped through the doorway. She heard laughing, both male and female, from various locations in the room. "Take your tunic, Ma'am?" A quiet voice guided her towards her left.



Janey blushed, and shook her head. The demure girl behind the clothing check counter shrugged. "Do you have anything to change into?" She wished that Crimson was here to provide her with dry clothes after the shower. Magic. Sheesh. She briefly debated not showering, but her skin felt sticky from the over-spray of whipped cream, and she felt sweaty from her tryst with Miranda. And God knew where Crimson was. She couldn't get home alone. This tunic was all she had between her and wandering about naked. She shook her head for the attendant. "There's nothing saying that you can't shower like that, but you do realise that it's white, right?" Janey looked down. Already the steam from the bathroom was making the thin garment stick to her skin. It was becoming translucent anyway. She picked at the cloth in disgust. What the hell, she thought. With one motion, she whipped the tunic from her body, tossing it casually to the girl behind the counter, trying to control the automatic blush. "Will you be long, Ma'am?" the girl asked. "I don't think so," Janey replied, and then strode off into the steam. The water felt wonderful against her skin. She half had expected that the castle would only have cold water, and truthfully, she needed a cold shower. However, when she pulled the chain, warm water sluiced over her bare skin. She scrubbed at herself, her fingers pushing away the fluids and stickiness that had imbued her since Miranda. A bar of soap provided her with lather that smelled like a peach orchard. She wasn't much for perfumed soaps, but this one tickled her senses. At last, she released the chain, and the steam ceased to flow over her. Laughter and cries of ecstasy surrounded her, hidden by the fog. She was half tempted to find the characters, if only to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (20 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


satisfy her curiosity. Now, where was the damn desk? Janey stumbled through the steam, her eyes trying to penetrate it. Panic began to set in. Nothing seemed familiar in her world of white. "Find a wall, Janey," she spoke softly to herself. After tripping over a man who was sandwiched between two women, Janey's fingers finally touched cool stone. Nobody seemed to mind, as she made her way slowly through open showers. "You're Janey," a female voice whispered. Janey turned, conscious suddenly of her nakedness. "I am. And you?" The woman had her back to Janey, warm water flowing down her posterior. "It's not important, is it?" The woman turned. She was stunning, even with her hair plastered to her head. "How'd you know me?" "You wrote 'Assignation', didn't you? Everybody knows you." Janey nodded. It didn't make sense, but she was becoming accustomed to strangeness in this magical land. The over-spray of the shower was wetting her skin, again. "Who else would be so tall?" the woman remarked over her shoulder. Janey blushed and began to turn away. "I didn't mean to offend," the showering woman spoke quietly. She beckoned with a finger. She could still feel the ache in all her muscles. That damn Crimson. Portals three metres off the ground and in lakes. She'd get him back for that, if it were the last thing she did. The water felt good as she stepped beneath the flow. Suddenly, wet lips were brushing her own, damp fingers exploring. Janey sighed, and let the girl massage the aches from her. The lips left, as suddenly as they had appeared. A wetness, more solid than



the trickling shower, trailed down her chest as the woman lowered herself. Janey's nipples, despite her best efforts, tightened with the touches of the tongue. Dancing fingers toyed with her thighs, sending bolts of electricity up her spine. The water continued to fall over the girls like a warm waterfall. The fingers entered her, like a phallus, filling her. Her voice mixed with the beat of the shower, entwined with the other moans and cries from around the steam-filled room. The fingers began to slide within her, in, out, in, out. Each time the fingers left her, she felt empty. Then, at the peak of an 'in' stroke, she felt the tongue return, teasing her clitoris. She pressed her hips forward, felt the increased friction, felt the fingers move ever so slightly within her. She could feel the tensing, her muscles rebelling. Another touch teased her nipples; she could sense another presence, but dared not open her eyes. The smell of peaches suffused the air. She tried to resist, to prolong the pleasure, but unconsciously her fingers found the stone behind her, giving her balance when the last soft touch of a tongue pushed her over the edge. Her scream of delight echoed through the steam. She thought she even heard faint clapping from across the enclosure. She flushed with more than simply the after-effects of the climax. Her face blushing scarlet, she gently pushed away the hands that still were upon her skin. As she sank to her knees, she fought the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her. At last, she caught her breath and opened her eyes. The girl was kneeling back on her heels, face upturned, her mouth catching some of the water from the shower. Miranda remained standing, smiling down at her. Janey leaned her head back, once again, exhausted. "I thought I might find you here," Miranda spoke cheerily. "And Mat kind of spilled the beans." Janey nodded, not having the energy to speak. When she opened her eyes to soft moaning, she was surprised to see Miranda and the girl, still in the shower spray. The girl had switched to all fours, and was enjoying Miranda's fingers as Miranda knelt behind. With a small cry, the nameless woman shuddered, and then collapsed onto the warm stone, facedown. The water continued to wash over her skin, flowing lazily towards the drain. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (22 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


She didn't remember the trip from the showers, nor dressing herself. She vaguely recalled Miranda sharing her towel, patting the droplets of water from her skin. She didn't know how she had ended up back in bed with Miranda draped around her. She could vaguely smell the sweet odour of wood smoke drifting in through the open window. She lay for a long time, staring at the timbers of the ceiling, not wanting to disturb Miranda. If the girl felt anywhere as tired as Janey, then she deserved her rest. It was a long time before she noticed the scarlet shimmering from near the window. She stifled a scream. Laughing gently, Crimson stepped from the shadows. "How long have you been here?" she hissed into the darkness. The Dragon smiled enigmatically. "Not long enough to know what you were doing with Miranda. But I could guess." Janey relaxed, not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved that he hadn't been a witness to her romping. "She's asleep." "I know, I've been watching you both sleep for a while." "What time is it?" "Almost time for the festival. Might already be swinging." He cocked his head to the side. Janey could hear faint music wafting from somewhere beyond the window. Festival? "I can't take another sex session here," she spoke wearily. "I wasn't suggesting that we join in," the Dragon spoke softly. "But we shouldn't miss it entirely. Miranda is going to kill me if she discovers that she missed the festival."



Janey began to extract herself from entangling limbs. The slight caresses, from Miranda's skin sliding across her own, ignited yet another shiver of electricity through Janey's nerves. She knew that she didn't have a hope of climaxing again, but nostalgia nearly overwhelmed her. She didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed. Festival, shmestival. At last, she worked herself free of Miranda's limbs. Miranda murmured in her sleep, and then turned over, presenting an exquisitely curved back. "Toss me that ridiculous shift, and then you can turn around." Janey whispered. Crimson grinned, and did as he was bid. Moments later, Janey physically turned the creature around. She was clothed again in the short tunic and her sandals. "I don't suppose that you'll return my normal clothing?" she inquired hopefully. The Dragon grinned, and shook his head. "Wouldn't be proper," he muttered. "Wouldn't be prudent..." Walking around the bed, he bent and kissed Miranda's cheek chastely. The girl's eyes fluttered open briefly, and she whispered sleepily. "See you next time, Crimson." "Until next time," he whispered back. But she was already back asleep. Taking Janey's hand, he led her to the doorway, which remained bolted against intruders. He slipped the bolt effortlessly and the two writers stepped into the hallway. "Do you have any idea of what bolts are for?" Janey whispered as the bolt released the door. "Latches?" Crimson inquired innocently. "What are they for?" Janey scowled at the creature, but followed along the dark hallway. Crimson glanced back at the bedroom. "She's going to murder me for http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (24 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


not waking her." Crimson shook his head with a grin. The light from the bonfire and the overhead moonlight lit the clearing as brightly as if a spotlight were shining. Janey heard the laughter and the music well before the two of them arrived at the festival. She stared in awe at the abandon. It reminded her of a tribal ritual or a rave. A large platform made of wooden planks was raised like a stage on the other side of the clearing. Music boomed from loudspeakers. She idly wondered where electricity to drive the amplifiers came from, but decided that she really didn't want to know. A downtown club wasn't this boisterous. Multiple dancers whirled with frenetic grace across the stage. Clothed, unclothed, it didn't seem to make a difference. She plucked at her tunic, which was sticking to her skin again in the heat and the humidity. The bedroom had been cooler. Crimson pointed toward the edge of busily scribing something on a bit she'd glance up and stare into the individuals dancing near the fire. scribbling.

the clearing, where a girl sat of parchment. Every so often, crowd, her gaze held by certain Then, she'd return to frantic

Janey nodded in confusion, following Crimson's gesture. "That's Kivi," he said. "Kivi?" "Yeah, she's watching and keeping track." The girl looked up, made eye contact with both of them, and waved merrily. "A scribe?" Janey asked. "A demographer," Crimson managed to say with a straight face. Bewildered, Janey simply regarded the Dragon strangely. "She can dance like a demon, too," he offered with a shrug.



Janey studied the girl. She was shorter than Janey, and didn't have much of a tan. Kivi was wearing a short dress, but it was more modest than the one Crimson had bestowed upon Janey at the beginning of this insane day. Janey's attention was torn from the girl to another one by Crimson's urging. "See the girl up there?" Crimson pointed. Janey nodded, unsure if her voice could possibly compete with the driving beat. The music sounded familiar, and she was just about to place it when Crimson's strong voice overpowered the bass. "That's Mercury," he said. The girl was whirling about the stage with far more abandon than any of the other dancers. She was nude, her breasts bouncing with the beat. "Mercury?" Then she recognised the music. Some joker had put on the sixties tune by that name. "I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury..." Mercury tossed her hair, and began to dance with a new partner, grinding her hips to the beat. A mug of mead was pressed into Janey's hand, though she didn't know who had given it to her, or what the amber liquid was. She was surprised to discover that she was parched. The sweetness immediately flowed to her head, making her giddy. In her peripheral vision, she noted that Crimson had already knocked back his mead with one long swallow. Damn Dragons. She suspected they were immune to intoxication, or perhaps lived in a state where they only occasionally had blood mixed with the alcohol within their veins and thus had a tolerance to the stuff. Unfortunately, she didn't have Crimson's immunity. With a sense of determination, she quickly downed the rest of the mug in her hand. With a start, she felt a strong hand grab hers, and she was sucked into the writhing mass of dancers near the fire. Her cry was swallowed by the thumping bass. The man who'd grabbed her was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts. Janey grimaced at the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (26 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


choice, but then realised that her attire wasn't much better. The music swept her, and she forced her aching muscles into a half-hearted dance. The man danced with abandon around her as though frantic energy was expected. Slowly, she noticed that her feet were matching the beat despite her exhaustion. She tossed her hair and smiled at her unknown suitor. She ached between her legs, and her breasts felt like they were on fire. If this guy wanted some, she was afraid that he'd be disappointed. Miranda had seen to that. She didn't think she would ever climax again, as long as she lived. The Hawaiian didn't seem to have anything on his mind other than dancing, so she was spared from breaking the bad news of her impending retreat to a convent. She mused idly whether she would prefer being a nun, or a perhaps a monk? There were unsubstantiated rumours that the Dragon was head over heels for a certain female monk. The music changed into a low driving beat, something from the eighties. She thought she recognised Duran Duran, but she wasn't positive. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Mercury climbed down from the platform and spun effortlessly through the dancers around the bonfire. Her head swimming, Janey at last fell to her knees, and then sat. Her vagina ached, and her calves felt like they were on fire. Even her nipples ached. The dancers spun around her in a haze, but none stepped on the sitting woman. When she looked up again, two male forms were crouched beside her; worried looks graced their faces. "Are you all right?" Mat yelled over the music. Janey nodded. She vaguely recognised the other man as the villager who had been chasing the 'spammers'. "Hello spammer-buster," she slurred and waved her fingers at the leader, her voice barely audible above the music. She felt herself lifted, and more carried than supported by the two men. The procession was constantly bumped by dancing apparitions, but Janey didn't stumble with the assistance of Mat. Most of the



dancers the men seemed to know by name. Crimson's face emerged from the haze. The world was shimmering and spinning. She felt a faint buzzing in her brain, but nothing like the times that she'd really indulged back in Boston. She'd be fine if she didn't have any more of the sweet stuff. The exhaustion was another matter, though. She sang with Duran Duran. Something about a Wolf. "Can someone stop the world? I'd like to get off," Janey mumbled. Voices floated past her from far away. "Mead?" "She's not used to it..." "Thanks for rescuing her, See-El. That stuff generally wears off quickly. I should have been watching her more closely, though." Released from the shaking her head. world. It helped. her head quickly. tongue.

men's grasp, Janey slowly sank back to the earth, Her fingers gripped her feet, trying to steady the The fuzziness lifted a little. Fresh air cleared In a few moments, she regained control of her

"Crimson?" The Dragon was crouching in front of Janey. "I'm taking you home," he spoke quietly. There was a naked woman crouched beside him, demurely keeping her legs together. Janey silently thanked the girl for that. One more glimpse of sexual abandon was going to drive her crazy. "Mercury?" Janey ventured. The nude girl nodded, looked up, and smiled at Janey. Her fingers traced Janey's cheek. New sparks, which she tried to quell, flashed through Janey's nerves. Instead, she studied her fingers. "She's flushed, Crimson. You better get her home." Crimson laughed, but not unkindly. "She got into the mead before I http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (28 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


could warn her." "I'm fine," Janey protested, but weakly. God, she was tired. Crimson rose and helped Janey to her feet. Mercury smiled. "Next time, we dance without this, and up there," she plucked at Janey's shift and pointed towards the platform. Janey flushed, but nodded wearily. She released Crimson's support and gamely swayed. "Let's go," she yelled through the music. Her fingers grasped the bottom of the shift, ready to whip it from her body -- ready to at least try to join Mercury's energy at the bonfire. She steadied herself briefly on Crimson's shoulder. Crimson laughed. "That dance will have to wait for next time." Janey whirled on her feet, her eyes flashing in gentle anger. "I'm not dead, you know...I do have a say in this...I can dance." The shift was fluttering dangerously high on her thighs. The crowd around her was staring, wondering if the shift was going to be removed or not. Soft fingers again stroked Janey's cheek. Mercury's face floated in front of Janey's eyes. "Not tonight, Janey," the other woman spoke above the music. "But..." "There is another equinox in six months, and probably a solstice in between. We'll dance then. You'll collapse." Janey looked from Mercury, to Crimson, and then back to Mercury. "I can do it," she mumbled. Her body cried out its protest as she tried to execute a quick dance step. She stumbled but maintained her balance. Mercury laughed kindly, extending her arm. "Next time," she whispered in Janey's ear. Janey turned toward Crimson, a look of pleading in her eyes.



"You've had enough excitement for one day," he smiled easily. With a wave of his hand, a blue portal opened, this time not in a lake or metres off the ground. He took Janey's hand firmly. Before they could walk into it, a strong hand on Crimson's shoulder stopped them. "You weren't planning on leaving, were you? Without saying good-bye?" Crimson nodded. "The little lady is a bit tired. I wonder why?" See-El materialised out of the crowd, three women surrounding him. Two were nude, the other in a diaphanous white cloak. See-El and the girls waved jauntily, and then began a short walk towards the castle. Janey could hear the soft murmur of See-El's voice as he spoke animatedly with the girls. Something about spam, and research being the Holy Grail of existence. She failed to grasp the meaning. Mat patted Janey's shoulder and then shook Crimson's hand. "You'll be returning, I suppose," Mat inquired of Janey. Janey smiled, and then without a word stepped into the portal. It was dark when she spilled out of the blue turbulence. "Not agaaaaain!" she screamed as she hurtled through thin air, at last landing in shallow frigid water. She screamed again as the icy fluid caressed her skin through the thin tunic she still wore. The water drove the last vestiges of fuzziness from her brain. Insults, directed mostly at idiotic scarlet lizards, hurtled into the night air. Distractedly, she noticed a large brown mink swim away, carrying a small gerund in its mouth. She must have disturbed it with her cursing as it dined. The creature was by far the nicest northern mink she had ever seen, and she would have liked to watch it longer, but it disappeared into the shadows as silently as it had appeared. She struggled to her feet, her sandals sinking into the soft bottom of the lake. She slogged the ten metres to the beach and fell into the soft sand, her arms wrapped around her knees. The tunic was dripping. She glanced down at the now translucent material. Crimson http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/magic-body.html (30 of 33)8/15/2005 12:07:34 AM


was going to get a show when he meandered through the portal. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead. She was so tired, she couldn't even gather the energy to further curse the creature. Shivering, she silently waited for the Dragon to appear. At last, he emerged, appearing in a red shimmer above the water. A soft fragrance of smoke and perfume wafted across the crisp air. The Dragon missed the execution of the flip, and landed as Janey had, ungracefully in the lake. Janey began to giggle as the tall man slowly raised himself out of the lake with a scowl. "Damn," he muttered. "I always knew that was going to backfire on me one day." He shook his arms, spraying water across the waves. Janey rose to her feet, still laughing. "Is it proper for me to be wearing this now?" She slipped the useless, dripping garment over her head and threw it at the man walking across the beach towards her. She stood defiant, but shivering, in her nudity in the moonlight. The Dragon grinned and nimbly caught the shift. With a wave of his hand, her jeans and blouse covered her. They were soaked as much as the shift had been. She glared at the Dragon. The man waved again, and she felt the frigid water evaporate from the clothing. She began to feel warm, at least. Janey pulled out the top of her blouse and looked down. "Underwear, too, you mangy Dragon." The Dragon sighed. "Sometimes, you aren't much fun," he remarked. Janey felt the panties and bra snake around her body as if by magic. A tingling surrounded her skin, feeling remarkably like Miranda's lips, and then the sensation faded into the night. She slipped her hand into the Dragon's and they began the long walk back to civilisation. "Did you have fun?" he asked quietly. "Oh, yes," she replied as her bare feet indented the sand. "But I've never been so tired in my life."



"I wonder why," the Dragon remarked with a smirk on his face. She glanced out the bedroom window, between the curtains. Her neighbours were at it again. She thought she saw the shadow of a pot fly across the drawn shades, two houses down. She sighed. A shape something like a bat but much larger flitted across the full moon face. It had a faintly reddish tinge to it. Her cheek tingled as though Dragon lips, or pixie dust, had kissed her good-night. She sighed, watching as the shape flew ever northwards until she could no longer follow it with her eyes. She fought the drowsiness and the dull sense of nausea that had settled in her stomach. Never again, she swore. Mead was definitely out of her diet. And God help Crimson if she had a hangover tomorrow. "Come to bed, honey," a sleepy voice murmured in the darkness. Janey wearily rose to her feet, still feeling the ache deeply within her muscles. She smiled at the moon once more, hearing melodies from the sixties, and smelling the acrid wafts of wood smoke. They were all still there. Somewhere. "I'm crazy 'bout a Mercury," she mumbled as her head touched the pillow. She fought off sleep for a moment longer. She felt relaxed and free. "What?" her husband mumbled as his arm encircled her waist. "It was equinox today," she mumbled before surrendering to a dreamless sleep.


© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon All rights reserved


Rio - Crimson Dragon

Rio © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Rio (MF, FF, rom, cruise, outdoors, voy, mystic) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - January 1999 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

"I don't need this," Tamara spoke in a hushed tone. She glanced around at the other diners. They ranged from early twenties to late fifties, all laughing and drinking, and generally having a good time. Not one was paying the slightest attention to Tamara talking in her hushed and urgent tones. A young couple, probably recently married, were staring into each other's eyes two tables away, hands clasped on either side of the flickering candle. She tore her gaze from them, and turned back towards Daniel. His face had fallen from an image of easy relaxation into a look of sadness and sorrow, which she'd seen there more times than she could remember. She whispered to him, more gently this time.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/RIO.html (1 of 10)8/15/2005 12:07:48 AM


"Daniel, darling, I know ... you've been waiting a long time for this. It's the first time I've gotten away in five years, but, dammit, I need to relax, too. And I can't. Not if you keep asking me that. I'm not ready." "Tamara ... I ..." His eyes looked like they were going to burst. She could see the tears brimming there. How the hell did she hook up with an emotional, sensitive, caring ... she wrenched herself away from that line of thinking. She didn't have to be here. Nobody had forced her. She had chosen to be here. With Daniel. She didn't want to; she recognised her reaction from a million frustrating boardrooms, and a million idiotic clients. But she did anyway. She watched him swallow hard, and fight his emotions. He meant every word, and she wasn't ready, dammit. If nothing else, she was straightforward. "Daniel, I'm sorry. I'm not ready." She spoke more firmly this time. With the words, she rose to her feet, her dinner remaining on the table half eaten. She didn't dare look back at him. He'd be staring at his hands, and rightly wondering if this whole trip had been a terrible mistake. She didn't need this. The dining room doors closed quietly behind her. The soft moonlight filtered through the round triple pane of glass. The tiny portal was her only connection to the outside world. Tamara lay awake on top of the covers, soaking in the soft breezes of the air conditioning. Her mind whirled around as the moonlight danced across her face. She could feel the hum of the engines, she could feel the almost imperceptible rolling of the cruise ship as it slipped like a knife through the dark water below. For the millionth time since she'd entered the small cabin, she looked at the travelling alarm clock, which mocked her with its accusing iridescent scarlet numbers. "Click," she spoke to the empty room as the numerals flashed over to 4:24 AM. Another minute gone, and no sign of Daniel. Sleep remained elusive, tenuously out of her grasp like the moon in the night sky. She sighed and knelt up on the small bed that they should be sharing. Her fingers pressed up against the cool glass of the tiny portal. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/RIO.html (2 of 10)8/15/2005 12:07:48 AM


"Please, God," she began. She didn't believe in God, but something out there was making her miserable. That she had to believe. "Please, God. Why am I such a mess? Why am I such a goddamn, um, why am I such a hopeless screw-up? Where's Daniel? He's far too good to me, and I miss him. Please send him back? Please?" She felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. She felt weak and defenceless talking to herself in the soft glow of the moon and the clock. Her voice echoed around the small room as she continued to stare out over the calm ocean. Daniel didn't magically appear, and there was no answer forthcoming from the higher power that truly she didn't believe in. Again she lay back on top of the covers, and closed her eyes. She pretended to sleep, but her mind kept returning to the dining room. She wondered if he'd finished eating alone, probably feeling self-conscious, but not having anywhere to go. She felt sorry for him, and ashamed of herself. Why did she resist him so? He was tall, and dark, and handsome, and funny, and utterly perfect for her. And in her way, she loved him. But why did she resist him? He loved her. That much was obvious. He stayed with her, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health. She sighed. Why the hell wasn't she ready? Was she that happy with her life? Corbin and Wallace. Law Firm extraordinaire. Her life. Defending criminals? And winning? Just because she could? The nameplate on her office door mockingly proclaimed her: Tamara Wilson, Esquire. A bold stab at the male dominated field. But what had her life become? A statement of independence outside of her gender? That she could do anything a man could do, but better? Had she risen above the Daniels of the world, done better than become their equals? Why? At what cost? She rose up on her knees again. The moon winked at her as it moved ever so slowly through the sky. It beckoned to her, as though it had a crooked finger, urging her from her prison. She blinked and the moon returned to its white, pockmarked face. But she was sure it had winked at her. She heard a low moan through the wall, and then a light rhythmic rocking. A woman's voice, muffled, but still audible, cried out in



ecstasy or pain. Tamara couldn't tell, but if the rocking was any indication, probably ecstasy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd moaned like the girl in the next room. The moon winked at her again, and she slipped off the bed. She rummaged through the suitcase, the one that she had brought but hadn't unpacked. The satin nightgown felt cool and sensuous to her fingertips. It was far more daring than she normally would consider, but it was better than going nude. The soft garment settled over her shoulders and she shivered. She reached for her socks, and then realised it was the Caribbean, at 4:24 in the morning. She tossed the socks back into the suitcase and opened the cabin door. She stepped barefoot into the corridor. She had encountered nobody on her short walk from her cabin to the deck. The polished wood planking shone like a ballroom floor underneath the moon. The wood felt slick and warm beneath her feet. From somewhere in the distance, a low bass thumping carried over the ship. The disco was probably still providing entertainment for the young crowd. As she silently slipped past the swimming pool, she thought she heard soft giggling at the darkened far end. She heard a gentle splash and another giggle, followed by a definitely feminine voice: "Oh, Sara." Tamara swallowed, flushed crimson in the darkness. She was surprised she wasn't glowing like Rudolph's nose. As quietly as she could, she slipped away from the illicit tryst in the pool. The railing was cooler than the muggy air swirling around her. She could hear the rush of the water sluicing by the bulkheads of the giant ship as it slowly churned through the water. She briefly considered jumping--she was sure that the water was comforting and warm--but her survival instincts kicked in and she simply stared across the expanse of water. Soft music flowed over and above the diminished bass beat of the disco. It was a lilting music, more like classical, or soft rock, perhaps Celtic. Her eyes searched for the source. The moon winked at her again, and she softly cried out into the breeze, her voice carrying across the water, reaching out, for what http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/RIO.html (4 of 10)8/15/2005 12:07:48 AM


she wasn't sure. The nearby landscape startled her. She stepped back from the rail, as though the ship would run aground against it, like the Titanic finding its inevitable iceberg. A sharp squeak escaped her lips before she could prevent it. The ship was no more than a hundred metres from the beach. The beach had slowly been illuminated in the dark water by the reflected light of the moon. A high cumulus cloud moved slowly along in the jetstream, perhaps, or perhaps Neptune had risen to bathe the land, like Atlantis, in his ethereal light. Palm trees shifted in a slight shore breeze. She could almost hear the rustling of the leaves, calling out into the night. She felt her hands again grip the railing, but in a detached way. The soft music had swallowed the bass beat of the disco, becoming clearer as the land became more distinct. Plastic chairs, lined up like sentinels, peppered the white deserted beach. Deserted? A furtive movement, like that of a nervous mouse, shimmered by one of the lounges. A flash of crimson, and then nothing. Tamara strained her eyes, fighting her heavy eyelids and the soft glow bathing the beach. Then, as though she had summoned her, a woman walked out between the palms. The woman shook free her hair and looked around. The ship was lit like a Christmas tree with its running lights, and yet she didn't appear to see it. She gazed at the moon, her arms uplifted in supplication. The softer music intensified, meeting with the crickets and evening insects, blending their harmonies into one cohesive night song. Slowly, ever so slowly, the girl upon the beach began to move. The girl danced across the sand, her movements matching the music, her arms outstretched to the moon, her bare feet indenting the soft crystals beneath her. Tamara watched, unable to tear her eyes from the woman or her movements. Like a ballerina, the woman captured and refused to relinquish her distant hold.



Her face uplifted to the stars, the woman began to peel the simple tunic from her skin, crying out in abandonment and ecstasy. Still her bare feet whispered across the sand. The dance was beautiful, and soft, and gentle, and sexual. She was the light and the dark. She was the palm trees. She was the ocean and the sky and the sand. She was the river twisting across the beach, forever, and always. Tamara stepped back from the rail. The land faded as though the unseen clouds had again obscured the moon. Tamara felt her heart racing beneath her ribs insistently. She could feel her nipples tightening, pushing against the satin. She wanted to join the woman, dance with her, cast away the demands of career and stress, and dance free. Live. She thought that she loved the woman. She stepped back towards the rail, confused. She had never desired a woman before. Appreciated strong women--yes--she appreciated beauty in her own way. But never longed for a woman. Not like this. In some ways, Tamara was glad that metres of deep dark water separated her from the girl. The land became more focused as her fingers gripped the rail. The woman beckoned to her, still dancing lightly over the sand. But the woman couldn't see her? Could she? The indistinct shape, the furtive one Tamara had seen earlier, emerged from between the palms. Her hair was as red as the setting sun. It flowed over her shoulders, cascading like a waterfall. Her clothing was a diaphanous white swirling around her body, clinging to her and then releasing as the wind caressed her. Like the dancer, she was barefoot, her toes leaving a slow trail through the grains beneath her. The dancing woman continued her slow movements, reaching out to the redhead, and then pulling back. She wanted her, and she didn't. The dancing girl at last closed the distance and kissed the white-clad girl. Tamara trembled. The kiss was not chaste. The red-haired girl returned the kiss, and her moan was audible as though transmitted to Tamara across the metres of open water. A pair of soft lips brushed hers, and Tamara gasped, again pulling away from the railing. Her eyes focused in front of her. Nobody. The phantom brush of lips were those of the dancer, she was sure of it. It couldn't have happened, but even away from the railing, she could http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/RIO.html (6 of 10)8/15/2005 12:07:48 AM


feel the soft lips insistent against her own, kissing her throat, her shoulders. The beach hadn't completely faded. It strengthened again as she re-gripped the rail, her body tingling. The dancer was kissing the red-haired girl, her lips, her throat, her shoulders. The white cloak had disappeared, leaving both women nude upon the sand. Skin touched skin, breasts touching, caresses, moans, and most of all love. Love radiated from the pair like heat from an ember. Lips, fingers, stomachs, thighs, toes. The girls coupled and Tamara could not, would not, tear her eyes away. Her body tingled, as each distant touch ignited a new passion. She could even feel the warm grains of sand pressing into her back. She shivered. The women rolled, sand adhering to their bodies and their hair. They were oblivious to anything but themselves, lost in each other. As the red-haired girl gently sought the dancer's most intimate places, Tamara gasped, feeling the fingers touch her, pleasure her like none had ever before. The fingers were soft, and insistent, stroking her lightly then harder, building, matching her rhythms and soft sighs. She lay back her head and let her mouth open to the stars. Somewhere on a beach far away, a brunette dancing girl cried out a name. "Rio." It echoed across the waves, a beckoning. The same name whispered from Tamara's lips a moment later as the ghostly fingers coaxed her further and further. And then as quickly as they had appeared, the fingers left her. Tamara's hand automatically plunged down, to finish, to find that sweet release, denied so very, very long. She felt damp satin beneath her fingertips. "Tamara?" Her name. The girls were calling her name. She opened her eyes, searching the calm black waters for the beach, for the lovers, for the music. She swallowed, her eyes drifting up to the moon, cursing the clouds that weren't there. Again her name was called, closer and more real than the landscape. "Tamara?" She turned quickly towards the male voice, her hand snatched away



from between her legs. Her breath was husky and laboured. She could feel her entire body tingling. "Daniel?" The voice came from a deck chair, three steps over and one back. The voice was sleepy. "Yeah. God, my back hurts." The indistinct form rose from the lounge chair and slowly approached. Tamara backed up towards the railing, throwing another glance out over the empty water. "What are you doing up here?" he asked. "I could ask you the same question." "I fell asleep. I didn't exactly feel like boogying all night long." The thump of the disco had returned when the magical music of the night had fallen silent. She glanced over the water again. "What are you looking for?" he asked. "We ... we just passed an island." He looked at her oddly. "There's nothing out there. Just water and stars." She felt horribly empty and unfulfilled. Her nipples ached. "I couldn't sleep, Daniel. I came looking for you." "Well, you found me." He made to return to his lounge chair. "Daniel?" He turned. She licked her lips, fighting the fires that were deep within her. There would be time for that later. Right now, she needed to live. "I ... I won't work as much any more. I think I'm going to quit." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/RIO.html (8 of 10)8/15/2005 12:07:48 AM


He shrugged, moving sleepily back towards his makeshift bed. "Daniel?" She moved closer to him, her feet whispering across the deck. "I want to start again." He looked at her, scepticism in every pore of his being. "Tamara, I'm not sure we can ..." She turned her face upwards and kissed him. It wasn't a chaste kiss. She never wanted to let go, but she did, pushing away from him with an act of pure will. "I love you Daniel, and I should have said that earlier. Probably should have said it at dinner tonight. I don't have a clue why you stick with me, and I don't know why you love me, but you do. And I love you. So ..." She knew what she looked like. A creature, her satin nightie clinging to her bare skin, her hair wild and her face unpainted. Her body was fighting her mind, wanting, needing. And this wasn't the right time, but she was so afraid that he wouldn't ever ask her again. "If the offer is still open ... I'd like to ... I'd love to ... Christ, I can argue in front of a judge all day and not lose my mind ... Daniel, I'd love to marry you." She stood uncertainly, shifting her weight from bare foot to bare foot, hoping that the island hadn't been for nothing, hoping that it wasn't too late. She bit her lip and watched him in the darkness. His smile glowed like the impending sunrise. The moon winked at her again, a swift goodbye. In her peripheral vision, she could see the girls, resplendent in their nudity, except it wasn't sexual any longer, waving on the beach so far away now. The brunette was dancing again, her hands lifted towards the stars, so unreachable. She heard a snatch of music, and then it was only her ... and Daniel. He kissed her, and this time they didn't let go for a long, long time. She watched the sunrise through the kiss, the ruddy light illuminating the embrace and what came after.



The sunrise greeted them, its soft light glinting off the reflective planking and illuminating their naked, entwined forms. The orange beauty of the morning sky caressed her gently. Like a new day, her life was beginning anew. "Congratulations," the captain smiled. There were more engagements that happened on his ship... He didn't understand it--perhaps it was the romance of the Caribbean. "But," and this he'd had to tell more than one happy couple, "we truly don't pass anywhere near land on this leg of the journey, so I can't tell you what island you saw this morning. Sorry. Perhaps you were dreaming." Tamara hugged her fiance with a puzzled look on her face. Perhaps she was still dreaming, but the man in moon bore a striking resemblance to the captain's face as he winked at them.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

California Dreaming - Crimson Dragon

California Dreaming © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== California Dreaming (MF, FF, rom, winter) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - September 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Opal pushed the glass door with her gloved hand, knowing that the surface beneath her leather encased fingers would be as cold as it was dreary outside. She gathered her winter coat tightly in her other hand as a blast of icy, damp air kissed her face. She shivered and stepped over the slight rise beneath the door. Her booted foot crunched loudly against the pebbled ice that hadn't yet been cleared from last night's light snowfall. She exhaled tiny ice crystals into the frigid air as she caught her breath in the sudden cold. The small cloud hung motionless in the morning air, her heat escaping like steam between her pursed lips. She reached to touch the silvery vapour, but the cloud dissolved into a million fragments as her fingers drew close. She clutched her coat tighter around herself and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Early morning pedestrians flowed around her like a http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (1 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


lazy river around an island. Church Street was never empty, not even at 7AM, but she barely noticed the early bustle. The shapeless people moved around her, as oblivious of her as she of them. Opal glanced up, a tear gently coursing down her cheek. Her window was three floors up, the low overcast partially obscuring it. She wasn't certain if the darker shape silhouetted in her window was the curtains or a person. The blurred shape that might have been a person waved to her. Opal raised her gloved fingers one at a time in a shy wave. "Good-bye," Opal whispered to herself. She turned and joined the river, an island disappearing slowly into the flow. The first flakes of snow began to drift gently from the overcast to catch in her dark hair, like salt on a feather. The Devonsleigh House sat impassively just north of the city, waiting silently for its myriad visitors. The coach lamps shone brightly into the darkness like tiny lighthouses. The quiet elegance of the mansion permeated the atmosphere, awing Opal with its stylistic charm. She had never even known such places existed, much less ever hoped to dine in such splendour. She was struck dumb as Murray led her regally through the elegant oaken entrance, her heels clicking harshly against the marble. Their reservations were handled efficiently by a tuxedoed maitre d'. They were led upstairs to a private table for two, complete with lighted candles and a confusing array of cutlery. The waiter arrived, speaking softly in French. Murray spoke in a hushed voice to the waiter, and in moments, a tall Pina Colada was delivered with a smaller and darker companion drink, perhaps Rum and Coke, for Murray. Opal toyed with the condensation forming on the crystal of her glass and then raised the drink in a silent toast. They toasted once, though Opal didn't really know why, then the light coconut tingled against her tongue. She glanced over the rim of her glass. Murray never wore suits. At least, she couldn't remember if she had ever seen him wear one. But he was handsome, debonair, and smashing tonight. She almost giggled at the thought, wondering idly if the drink was already touching her senses. She wasn't a drinker. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Wear something nice," he'd told her.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (2 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


"Casual?" "Nicer." "Evening wear?" He had nodded. She'd begged him to tell where they were going, but for once, she wasn't able to budge him. And so had started the evening. She had changed outfits six times before he had picked her up at her apartment. She had finally settled on a black evening gown that showed off her figure reasonably well. She could still remember his face as she'd opened her door for him. His eyes had glowed and an awed expression graced his face just before he'd offered his arm. She hadn't taken the offered arm immediately, causing a momentary flash of sadness in his features. The quick frown was quickly replaced by his full smile. She had hurriedly slipped on her high heels, grabbed her purse, and joined him where he was patiently waiting in the hallway. She had flushed crimson as he again offered his arm and escorted her down the hallway. Coming out of her reverie, she glanced again at Murray, sitting so at ease on the other side of the small table. Whereas she felt self-conscious, he looked as if he were born to be here. She took another sip of her Pina Colada, allowing her eyes to wander around the room. The decor was impeccable - soft lighting, candles, and tuxedoed waiters who never allowed water glasses to empty. She soaked in the ambience, and then her eyes returned slowly to her date. She had never been taken to a restaurant of this calibre before. She felt like a queen; she felt almost guilty at indulging in this pleasure with Murray. The dinner Murray ordered in French. She wasn't quite sure if she liked the pheasant, but she also knew how expensive the small bird must have been. She ate daintily, savouring each bite, struggling with the gamy flavour, and in the end liking it. The wine she liked from the start, a light French Chardonnay, complementing the pheasant perfectly. She smiled at him, gently protesting as he ordered her another Pina Colada after dinner. After the ever-present waiter had retreated from bringing her cocktail, Murray cleared his throat, looking a little nervous. She turned her attention back to her escort. He smiled at her.



"Do you want dessert?" he asked. She detected a slight hesitation in his voice, something she hadn't heard since he'd asked her out exactly six months ago. He was always self-assured, so unlike her. Her intuition was pinging; she was sure he wanted to say something else, ask her something more important than about dessert, but was hiding it beneath the surface. After half a year, she could sense these things. It nagged at her, but she pushed it aside, ignoring it consciously. It was probably nothing. She coyly tilted her head to the side and gazed at him. "Nothing I can get here." She let that husky timbre fall into her voice, and watched with satisfaction the desire flick across his face. She considered slipping her toes from her shoe and playing with him, and if it had been any less of a setting, she would have. She smiled at the thought. The waiter appeared from nowhere, interrupting to take dessert requests. "Rien ce soir," Murray spoke in muted French, the nuances of the language lost on her. The waiter had startled her, appearing just as she was considering the toe trick. She was glad she'd behaved, at least this once. The waiter disappeared, allowing the couple their privacy once again. "Opal ..." Murray spoke quietly interrupting her quiet fantasies. She glanced back at him. He smiled and raised his right hand above the table. She almost cried at the red rose extended to her. She took the rose and smelled its sweet perfume. "Happy six months," Murray whispered to her. She wanted to get up and kiss him, but couldn't. Not here. Instead, she murmured her thanks. He cleared his throat again, the nervousness descending back into his clear features. "Opal, sweetheart, I love you. You know that?"



She smiled and nodded. "You know, I'd never want to hurt you, right?" His voice began to speed up a little, his nervousness beginning to dissipate. She leaned forward placing her elbows onto the table, and cupping her chin in her hands. "You aren't leaving me, are you?" He swallowed heavily. "I really hope not." "What then?" she asked, still dreamy from her drinks and the setting. "I ... I have to go to California. Los Angeles," he stammered, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "For how long?" "I ... I'm afraid I don't know. It could be a long while." He spoke to the table instead of her. She was silent, her heart hammering. She could feel the tremors of her hands beneath her chin. Tears threatened, but she willed them back, swallowing heavily. He looked up, hope shining in his blue eyes. "Will you come with me?" She took a deep breath, her heart crying out for her mouth to form affirmative words. Her brain cried out opposite commands. Friends, family, career, everything gone. She couldn't. Not now. "When do you leave?" she asked quietly. "Day after tomorrow." His eyes were truly apologetic. He picked up his water glass, looked into it, and put it down without raising it to his lips. "Sweety, I only found out yesterday I had to go." Her anger flashed and then receded. They had both known of the possibility, but she hadn't really thought it would happen. He wasn't to blame here. Anger had no place, and she willed it back down deep inside her. She'd feel it later, when it wouldn't



interfere. He looked up, nervousness permeating his cheeks. There were tears in his eyes, which surprised her. "Opal, darling, would it help if I asked you to marry me?" Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipped about ten beats before resuming. "Are you serious?" she asked breathless. He nodded, his left hand rising with a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing the clear hard stone refracting the light of the candles and the opulent chandeliers. Tears welled up and spilled as she stared into his face. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. With every beat of her heart, she wanted to say, Yes. "Murray, I love you. You know that. But I can't." She paused, her heart beating double time, her tears never slowing. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked. She caught her breath and slowly rose from her seat. Happiness had fled, replaced by a deep sense of loss, aching somewhere around the middle of her chest. Wiping at her eyes, she stumbled downstairs, ignoring waiters and other patrons. The ladies' room was a safe haven, its muted music distracting and safe. She sat on the sink counter and cried into her hands. She had slipped out of the evening gown as Murray closed the door quietly behind them. She let it fall crumpled on the hardwood at her feet. She kicked off her shoes and stood before him in her lacy underwear and bra that she had bought especially for him, for this evening. "Opal, sweetheart, we don't have to do this," he murmured to her. She bit her lower lip, still fighting the tears. She took his hand and led him down the short hallway towards her bedroom. Her bare feet pattered against the floorboards, making a lonely, empty sound http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (6 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


through the small apartment. He followed, led by her fingertips, and allowed her to slip the uncomfortable suit from his body, one piece of useless cloth at a time. When he stood before her, naked, he again whispered to her. "Opal, we don't ..." his voice trailed off as she placed her slender finger against his lips, and traced it down his bare body, slowly getting lower. She led him to the sheets and made quiet love to him for a long time. The air danced with their soft crying and laughing. At last, the release came like a flood carrying away her loss and pain. Physically satisfied, she collapsed into his arms, allowing her dark hair to fan across his chest, taking in every curve and muscle of his being. She cherished his slow breathing as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Her nose wrinkled as her musky scent mixed lightly with his. She lay awake in his arms into the early morning, her thoughts racing. Her thoughts would not leave her alone to join Murray in the blissful darkness of sleep. Headlights from Church Street below danced across the wall from one side to the other, coming into her life and then leaving just as swiftly. The red rose, tossed carelessly on the dressing table, gleamed in the brief flashes of light beckoning to her, entreating her to follow her heart. She couldn't believe he was going to walk through that last metal detector and out of her life. She couldn't stop the tears, and couldn't stop him. She didn't even try. She waved, seeing his white and red winter jacket through the blur of her grief. Gone. No more touches. No more love. No more Murray. She felt empty and so alone. Opal felt the soft touch of a smaller hand at her elbow urging her forward. Unresisting, she walked toward him, bumping into unseen people, ignoring the odd curse borne of trodden toes. He held her tightly, crushing her. She held him, unable to release



him, even when the final boarding call rang through Terminal 2. He crushed her one last time, and gently extracted himself from her embrace. He held her by the shoulders and carefully kissed her forehead and then her lips. She kissed him back, tasting her own tears. Murray turned her again, urging her into a woman's arms, where she stayed like a child, sobbing. "Take care of her, Lydia, for me?" Opal felt the woman above her nod, promising. Lydia guided the sobbing girl to a bench and lowered her into it, standing watch as her friend cried inconsolably into her hands. When Opal at last raised her head, Murray was gone. She leaned against the railing watching the Air Canada 747 as it slowly taxied towards the runway. She felt Lydia's arm around her shoulders as she watched numb as Murray's plane departed for warmer air and a better life. A life that no longer included her. She allowed three tears to drip silently down her face as she watched the plane disappear into the cold blue sky. Unresisting, she followed as Lydia gently guided her back out into the cold to find her car. Lydia unlocked the apartment door with a jangle of keys and swung the door open. She guided Opal through the doorway, where they both kicked off their boots. Opal wandered into the living room and turned around, staring at the walls, slowly spinning. Lydia leaned at the entrance against a wall. "Do you want anything?" Lydia asked the slowly spinning girl. Opal stopped turning and faced towards her friend. "I'm being an awful host. Do you need anything?" Opal replied in a http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (8 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


normal voice. Lydia was taken aback. Opal hadn't said a word since leaving Pearson International, and she had fully expected another bout of crying before this was over. Lydia shook her head negatively and watched Opal return to slow spinning, her stocking feet turning carefully on the floorboards. After a few moments, Lydia asked gently, "Are you okay, Ope?" Opal stopped spinning again, this time faced away from her friend. "I ... I see the walls. I see the furniture. And I see him everywhere. I can smell him," Opal's voice cracked. Lydia watched as Opal's hair shimmered as she shook her head from side to side. Opal turned, her eyes flashing. "Do you think I'm okay?" Her voice carried a light menace, something Lydia had never heard before. Lydia unconsciously stepped back one step. Opal slowly advanced, her tears beginning again. Lydia tried to hold Opal's eyes, but the other girl looked away. "Why did he leave me?" "I don't know, Opal. Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. He didn't want to leave. You know he didn't. At least not without you," Lydia whispered. She stepped forward again, ready to embrace Opal if she needed it. Opal looked up at her, again her eyes flashing through the tears. "But he left anyway." Her voice carried an edge of repressed anger and hopelessness. She blindly swung her hand, mostly in frustration, a little in anger. Lydia caught the ineffectual blow, holding lightly to the wrist, knowing that Opal could have easily landed the swing if she wanted. "Opal, sweety. Hitting me isn't going to help. He's gone. I'm sorry."



Opal looked up, the frustration and anger leaving her face in a visible release. Lydia let go of the wrist, allowing it to fall limp at Opal's side. Opal's tears escaped like water over a dam. For the second time that day, Lydia caught the girl and let her sob onto her shoulder. After a while, the tears began to abate and Lydia gently kissed the raven hair nestled into her shoulder. "You'll be all right," she whispered to her friend. "I'll be out on the sofa if you need me, okay?" Opal looked up at Lydia from the bed. She'd removed her socks before climbing into the suddenly empty bed, but she hadn't bothered stripping out of her other clothes. For some reason, she couldn't sleep naked as she always had before. Not tonight. She could still smell Murray on the sheets and the pillows. If she was naked and reached for him, and he wasn't there ... She watched as Lydia slowly began to close the bedroom door. "Good-night," Lydia's voice whispered. "Lydia?" The door opened again, a quizzical look on Lydia's face. "I ... I don't want to sleep alone," Opal spoke in a quiet and frightened voice. "I'll be right out in the living room." "Will you ... sleep in here, tonight? Please?" "Opal, darling, the floor is awful hard." Opal swallowed hard. "You don't have to sleep on the floor." "Opal. Sweety. I know that you've had a hard day, but ... you don't want that either. Not tonight. Probably never." Opal let the confusion she felt play across her face. Then she figured out the implications, and flushed deeply. She almost began http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (10 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


crying, but managed to hold onto the tears. "Lyd?" she managed to speak. "I ... I only meant ... I didn't mean ..." Surprise and perhaps embarrassment flashed across Lydia's face. But she forced a smile to grace her features. "Sleep?" Lydia asked quietly. Opal nodded. Lydia stepped back into the room, switched off the lights, and pulled off her socks with her toes, leaving them by the door. She slipped awkwardly into Murray's side of the bed and sighed. Not much sleep for her tonight, she reflected. Lydia felt the softness of Opal slowly slide over and settle into the crook of her arm. She slowly stroked the dark hair and watched the headlights crawl across the wall in front of her. Soon, the girl cradled to her breast was breathing regularly, but Lydia continued to stroke the fine hair slowly, thinking. Eventually, Lydia fell asleep to the hum of the city, the unfamiliar weight of Opal pressing into her. The intercom buzzed loudly, shattering the silence of the apartment. She missed Murray, but at least he'd called earlier. She'd spent an hour talking to California, telling him about the last three weeks of her life, the small details with the big. He'd forgotten what snow looked like, there in Los Angeles, but sympathised with the cold as she complained good-naturedly about her winter. She had reluctantly hung up, and spent the last hour dreaming of the warm land thousands of kilometres away, and staring at the whiteness of the ceiling. The whiteness looked like driven snow to her, cold and empty like her heart. She slowly rose to her bare feet and walked to the doorway. A slender finger touched the response button. "Who?" she asked simply into the grill.



"Who do you think?" She smiled happily at the voice and pressed another button on the intercom, activating the lock three floors below. She heard the electronic buzz before the intercom cut off. She unlocked the door and opened it a few centimetres before returning to her perch on the sofa. Minutes later, a tentative knock rang through the apartment. "Anyone home?" "Come on in, Lyd." Opal leaned back into the sofa and crossed her legs, smiling at Lydia. "You look better than that crying wreck I left three weeks ago," Lydia commented as she kicked off her boots and dropped her jacket onto the hallway chair. She walked in and settled into the recliner opposite the sofa. "Damn, it's cold out there." "Supposed to snow tonight. I wasn't expecting you." "I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd drop in. Why aren't you out?" "Should I be?" Lydia shrugged. "How have you been, kid?" "I'm not a kid," Opal grinned at the standard response. She was eight days younger than Lydia. "Feeling better, I see." "Not really. Still miss him." Lydia rose from the chair and walked across to the sofa. She settled down at the far end, her feet propped on the coffee table. "So go." "What? To California? You know I can't." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (12 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


"Why not?" Opal fell silent looking away from Lydia, staring out the window towards the west. Lydia lay back her head, giving her friend time, staring at the whiteness above. Opal took a deep breath and glanced at Lydia. They were so completely different. Lydia unruffled, self-assured, carefree. Opal lying on a sofa for an hour pining for a man thousands of kilometres away, rattled by a simple phone call. Lydia blonde and taller. Opal dark and shorter. Lydia with her girlfriends. Opal with her boys. Everything so different, ever since they were three years old, and yet a closeness beyond friendship. Lydia turned her head towards Opal, seeing the pain and longing masked behind her features. She'd seen the signs before, but never in Opal. No. Never in Opal. Lydia bit her lower lip, running her teeth along the ridge. "Opal, sweety. You don't want this. I didn't come over for this. Trust me." "What if I do? What if I want it? What if I need it?" "You don't." "What if I want to forget? Even for one night?" Lydia drew in a breath and let it out in a long sigh. "What if it hurts me?" "Will it?" "Maybe." Opal clasped her hands together until her knuckles turned white. Strangeness flooded through her, touching her, teasing her. Her mind was a chaos of confusion and melancholy. "Okay. I'll behave," Opal spoke low, partially relieved. They sat silently and awkwardly for a few minutes. Lydia finally sat



up, breaking the quiet. "You want to get something to eat?" Lydia asked. Opal raised her eyes, taking in the soft face hovering in front of her, not even hearing the question formed by the lips. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed Lydia's inviting lips. Lydia's eyes widened in a parody of shock, almost making Opal laugh, but then settled back to normal and tentatively returned the kiss. Electric sparks jumped through Opal's body, starting at her mouth and igniting her nipples and especially between her legs. She gasped as Lydia gently but firmly pushed away. "We ... can't," Lydia spoke as though she'd run a marathon. Opal looked up at Lydia with bright eyes, unfamiliar desires racing through her. Lydia crumbled. "You're going to leave me in the morning, aren't you?" "I ... don't know," Opal whispered. Resigned, Lydia leaned forward and kissed Opal again, letting her own passions flow through her being, accepting the turn of events as a strange twist of fate. She almost felt compelled, not quite in control of her body or mind. This was going to happen no matter what she did. Confusion and desire swept through her. Murray's face floated behind Opal's closed eyes, his soft gentle lips kissing her once more. A name, cried out in passion, rang through the darkened bedroom. The smell of lavender and musk permeated the room as Lydia's fingers once again softly stroked Opal's tingling bare skin. Lips touched, once more. Lydia could taste the salt of Opal's skin, of her tears. Fingers brushed nipples, brushed secret places, brushed souls. And when the girls reached the pinnacle together, for the last time this night, the name again reverberated in a soft but urgent http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (14 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


whisper. If only the name that echoed like a knife through her mind had been her own, Lydia would not have cried silent tears as she cradled the exhausted and sleeping bare body of Opal tightly in her arms. The dried red rose, sitting silently sentinel upon the dresser, watched its sleeping owner, limbs entangled with the new, awake and saddened blonde girl. The strobe of the ever-present headlights alternately lit them, and then plunged them back into darkness. The muted early morning sunlight filtered through the overcast and through the lace curtains like a shadow across her face. Opal slowly opened her eyes, and felt the unusual weight of small bare limbs across her breasts and her legs. The smell of lavender and sex brushed at her lungs with every shallow breath. Carefully, she extracted herself, moving hands and legs. Lydia sighed in her sleep, and turned over, presenting an exquisitely curved back. Opal gently kissed the bare shoulder before stretching the covers over Lydia. In her sleep, the naked girl clutched the blankets to her chin. Shivering, Opal dressed quickly and quietly, pulling on jeans and a sweater, with warm socks over her feet. She swallowed hard, wanting to kiss Lydia one last time. Oh, but if she woke ... Opal crawled over the sheets and kissed her friend's hair, barely touching it. The scent of honey and clover mixed with the lavender of the room. A tear slipped unbidden and unheeded down her cheek. She idly wiped at it with her finger. She took one last look at the prone girl beneath her warm sheets and closed the bedroom door with a tiny click. Inside the bedroom, one tear traced down Lydia's cheek to splash silently to the pillow. "Good-bye," she whispered. Only the sentinel crimson rose heard the quiet sound as it echoed through the empty room.



"Good-bye," Opal whispered to herself. She turned and joined the river, an island disappearing slowly into the flow. The first flakes of snow began to drift gently from the overcast to catch in her dark hair, like salt on a feather. The spire of the cathedral was dwarfed by the concrete and steel that had grown up around it. Somehow, the proud steeple retained a measure of majesty despite the giants looking down upon it and the muting overcast that threatened to swallow it. Opal shivered as her leather encased fingers lightly gripped the wrought iron fence delineating the boundaries of God's sacred ground. The trees gracing the churchyard beckoned to her with their bare branches, inviting, inviting, and the few brown leaves that survived the autumn shivered with the girl. She stood for a long time, fingers anchored to the fence, and stared at the oaken doors with the black iron handles and hinges. People flowed oblivious around her, intent on their destinations, which were undoubtedly warmer than the winter outside. None glanced at her, or at the cathedral. The sounds of the city ceased for the girl as if she'd entered a vacuum. She inhaled deeply and released the black iron bars, casting away any security that the fence had provided her. Her boots crunched against the snow as her feet carried her inexorably towards salvation. The heavy doors swung open with a loud creak that echoed the length of the church. She expected to hear organ music, but the church remained silent. Only the whistle of the wind disturbed the quiet, rising in pitch until the door clicked shut with a reverberation. She felt as if she had disturbed an ancient tomb. The warmth of the church suffused her, thawing her frozen extremities. She shouldn't have been surprised, but none of the pews was occupied. A lone priest shuffled along at the altar, cleaning or lighting candles. He paid her no mind. Jesus, forever suffering upon http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (16 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


his cross, watched her without judgement. She released her breath; not even aware she was holding it. Her boots sounded loud, even to her numbed ears, as she slowly walked to the last row of pews. She didn't know which flavour of God's religions this church practised, but she genuflected as she entered the last row to sit upon the hard and uncomfortable seat. She bent and lowered the padded bench at her feet. Without conscious thought, she lowered herself to her knees. Her gloved hands clasped together and she bent her head, her dark hair swirling across her shoulders. She swallowed, allowed her mind to rise free of her kneeling body, and quietly pretended to pray. Her tears even surprised her. "My child?" She swam up from her private thoughts. Her eyes still wept, though she had no idea why. She felt like crying, so she did. She felt the quivering contact of elderly fingers touch her shoulder and then withdraw. Glancing up, she could see an angelic and ancient face blurred through her tears. "You have been praying for some time, my child. And you are crying." She nodded dumbly, not sure if the priest was kicking her out or not. She wanted to stay here forever, thinking and remembering. "What can someone so young have to fear?" She swallowed heavily, not knowing the answer. The old priest seemed to accept that. "My child, you are too young to let your heart be burdened so. Follow your heart. That is all that God asks of you." Her tears, which had abated with his interruption, began anew. She watched through blurred vision as the priest began to shuffle slowly down the centre aisle of the cathedral. He wrapped his thin arms around his frailty and whispered, perhaps to himself, as he wandered back to whatever his task was.



"It is so cold today, but I don't mind it. Do you?" his whisper carried through the distance separating them without an echo. She bent her head again, letting the tears flow silently down her cheeks. "Father?" Even her own voice seemed sacrilegious as she spoke. It echoed around the emptiness. The old man turned, halfway to the altar. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "Please. I ... I know ... please ... is there a phone that I can use, Father?" The old man smiled as the dark-haired girl rose to her feet. "Of course, my child." Her bare fingers trembled as she struggled to rotary phone. The black traditional telephone cluttered desk, amongst church announcements, lamp, and a Bible. She listened to the clicks beneath her index finger.

dial the ancient sat on the priest's a softly glowing desk as the dial spun

The seven digits were as familiar to her as her own hand, yet each number was more difficult to dial than the last. At last, she had reached the final digit, her finger inserted into the small hole obscuring the number. She willed her finger to push the dial, to connect her. Her hand trembled, but remained stubbornly motionless. "Please hang up and try your call again. Please hang up. This is a recording." She listened to the anonymous female voice twice more before the earpiece began to pulse with the tone of her error. She breathed in sharply and gently lowered the handset to its cradle. She closed her eyes, shutting out the world. The litany of her own phone number reverberated through her mind until she shook her head to clear her thoughts. Tears welled up as a single thought focused. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (18 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


"If I didn't tell her ... I could leave today ..." She glanced at the black telephone one last time, and sharply pushed herself away from the desk. Stumbling through a blurred world, she let herself out of the priest's office. Her feet pounded against the carpet of the cathedral. She could hear the frail voice behind her, calling to her. Without heeding the voice, her arms crashed into the oaken doors, her body hurtling into the muted light. She stumbled down the steps of the church, barely feeling the numbing cold through her unzipped jacket. A yellow painted car stopped for her outstretched hand. "Are you all right, lady? I don't want any trouble ..." The driver spoke to her as she slipped into the rear seat. She took a deep breath and nearly spoke her own address. She swallowed, struggled to control the tears, and whispered. "Pearson International, please." She lay back her head and watched the overcast rush by as the vehicle moved her towards her destination. The huge plane fell from the sky. Emblazoned with the Air Canada logo, the wings tipped it earthward, falling gently through a bright blue morning sky and into a foreign land. It hadn't taken very much to convince the guard that she was supposed to be there. A pretty smile and a lost look were all that was required. Sometimes women had it easy. She smiled as she entered the elevator without further problems. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Her nerves felt like they were doing a tightrope walk without a net. As the elevator doors rattled open and she slowly stepped out into the bright hallway, she felt a sense of calm settle over her.



Staring at the wall in front of her, she heard the elevator doors slide shut behind her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel the bottom of her feet tingling. Her watch told her that it was still very early. Her flight had been the first available flight out and she had been chasing the sun. She'd had no baggage to retrieve. Her back ached from sleeping in the uncomfortable airport and airplane seats. In front of apartment 1424, she stood, slowly shifting her weight from foot to foot. She raised her hand five times, each time getting a little closer to the wood of the door, each time slowly lowering her hand back to her side. A door opened, three apartments over. An elderly lady reached down and picked up her morning paper. The intruder gave Opal a suspicious look and withdrew back into her safe haven. Swallowing heavily, Opal raised her hand for the last time. Letting her breath out, she let her knuckles fall against the wooden door only once. The knock echoed up and down the hallway. She could sense movement behind the door after a few minutes, and heard the slide of a security chain. A woman, with blonde hair, barefoot and wearing Murray's purple terrycloth bathrobe opened the door. Her hair was dripping and her eyes were not yet fully awake. A hot flush raced into Opal's face. She could feel it burning like a brand. "I ... I ... I'm sorry ... I must have the wrong apartment." Though she knew without a doubt that she had the right address. The purple robe that she'd worn so many times cried out to her. Opal turned quickly and began to walk with determined strides back towards the elevator. Hot tears stung behind her eyes. But she wouldn't cry until she was safely back on the elevator. "Opal?" The soft feminine voice broke her stride, halfway down the hallway. She turned to face her replacement. She didn't want to scream, but she knew that she couldn't talk without at least crying. She stared http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/CaliforniaDreaming.html (20 of 23)8/15/2005 12:08:11 AM


back at the woman, trying desperately to conceal her grief. "You don't have the wrong address, sweety. We've been expecting you." Confusion draped Opal's mind. The woman's voice was soothing, so devoid of hurt, only conveying understanding and compassion. And Opal wanted so much to hate her, and she didn't even know her name. The blonde woman stepped out into the hallway, her bare feet leaving moist imprints against the bright blue carpet. She walked slowly toward the dumbstruck girl in the hallway, her hand extended in a gesture of peace and friendship. "I'm Meg." The blonde girl had to physically raise Opal's hand in order to make contact. As her hand raised, Opal shook her head, trying to clear it. She should be running. Back to Lydia and safety. The girl in the bathrobe smiled gently and spoke again in reassurance. "I'm Murray's sister." Recognition flooded into Opal's mind. The blonde hair, the straight nose, but most of all, the bright blue eyes. Relief raced through Opal's whole body but she still couldn't get her tongue working. A sparkle of laughter touched Meg's eyes. "Who'd you think I was? Didn't that insensitive jerk of a brother tell you about me? That I was staying with him?" Opal just dumbly shook her head. Meg leaned in conspiratorially. "That explains your reaction," she laughed kindly. "Listen ... please stay. Murray's been talking about nothing but you for three solid weeks, and I can't take it anymore. Besides, he'll kill me if I chased you away." Opal felt her fingers being guided towards the open doorway a few short steps away. She followed without thinking. Meg glanced down the hallway, her smile never wavering. "Come on. Murray's still asleep, and I feel rather awkward out here in the hallway like this. You caught me as I was getting out of the shower." The door closed quietly behind the women. Meg's hair was still



dripping onto her shoulders and there was wetness on the hardwood from her feet. "Where? How?" Opal finally formed the words that plagued her tired mind. The other woman halted at the end of the entrance hallway. Meg licked her lips. "Your friend Lydia called us last night. She told us that you were coming. She was surprised that you weren't here already." "But, I didn't ..." "She knew," Meg assured the trembling girl. "Murray ..." "Is still crazy about you." Meg pointed down the short hallway where there was an open door with steam still issuing from within. There were three closed doors adjoining the bathroom. "He's asleep. The second door on the right." Opal felt a guiding pressure on her shoulder and the women walked towards the closed doors. The gentle fingers left her shoulder and she turned to see Meg smile at her and slip back into the steam filled room. The bathroom door shut, and Opal heard the whine of a hair dryer from behind it. After staring at the white painted door for a few minutes, she took a deep breath and turned the doorknob in front of her. The door creaked open, revealing a Spartan, but comfortable room. A shape stirred in the queen-sized bed. There was definitely only one shape under the covers. "Leave me alone Meg. It's my day off ..." the shape mumbled. Opal stood transfixed, feeling her heart hammering and her uncertainties vanishing at the sound of his sleepy voice. "Is it too late to say 'Yes'?" she spoke almost in a whisper from the doorway.


Thunderstruck - Crimson Dragon

Thunderstruck © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Thunderstruck (MF, cons, rain) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - August 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Kathleen could almost smell the sharpness of ozone as the sudden cacophony woke her from a glowing dreamscape. In the disturbed dream she had been approaching a girl in diaphanous white, slowly walking towards a raised marble dais. She'd been whispering unknown syllables, the sounds falling rhythmically between her parted lips, passing through heady incense, and mingling with the gentle singing voices surrounding her. The quiet rhythms of the haunting dream melody had shattered into a million shards, like a mirror broken from the sudden force of a hammered fist. She was conscious of the next strike before she had fully awakened, its luminosity lighting her retinas through the blinds and her closed eyelids. The subsequent crashing was immediate and close, shaking her lungs and rattling the bed in which she lay. She curled up, drawing the covers under her chin and softly http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Thunderstruck.html (1 of 8)8/15/2005 12:08:25 AM


whimpered. She opened her eyes again, dreading the next strike, hoping that the thunder would move away and leave her alone. She wasn't alone. His face on the pillow beside her, softly illuminated by the dim light from the window, was strong and relaxed in sleep. She looked at him with envy, wondering how he could sleep through the storm and wishing she could rejoin him in dreamscape. She reached out tentatively and traced his cheek with one slender finger. He murmured and rolled over at the touch, not waking. Another strike, not as close, rumbled through the darkness. She jumped at the flash and then again with the thunder moments later. Kathleen swallowed, suddenly thirsty. Her heart reverberated a dull rhythm in her ears. Lifting the sheets damp with her perspiration, she swung her bare legs from the bed and sat up. Another flash illuminated the room like an eerie strobe. She cried out as the thunder washed over her, but her small sounds were no match for the power of the storm. Her tiny cries were the squeak of a mouse fighting the mighty roar of a wolf. As she rose to her bare feet, the rain began to tumble to the earth, released in a torrent of tears from the heavens above. Even through the insulation of the attic, she could hear the staccato beat of the rain against the shingles. She looked at the stippled ceiling above her and silently thanked a higher power that she had a roof over her head, and that she was warm and dry. Despite her protection from the elements, she shivered. She hugged herself as she walked carefully out of the room, leaving the prone man sleeping, blissfully unaware of the storm or her distress. Her bare feet whispered across the hardwood and down the flight of steps to the main level of the house. She poured a tall glass of milk in the dim glow of the refrigerator lamp. Sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, she could hear the rain whipping into the glass of the windows. She cringed as something heavy began to hit the house, the new beat low and dangerous. She tightened, lowering her head to the table, her heart racing, her stomach in knots. Tears threatened and spilled as another bolt of light streaked across the sky, its roar carried and simultaneously shattered by the wind. She wanted to call for her father. Her father would protect her, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Thunderstruck.html (2 of 8)8/15/2005 12:08:25 AM


stop the storm, stop her fright, stroke her hair ever so gently until it ended, infinitely patient with her. Her sisters had always made fun of her, taunting her. Their voices echoed through her memory. "Baby. Baby. Afraid of the thunder. Grow up little baby." She could still hear their singsong voices tormenting her through the intervening years. Her father, long gone now, chastised the imps who couldn't possibly understand, but it had only stopped them while in his presence. Engulfing her small hand in his own, her father lead her to the window, parting the curtains, showing her the storm, forcing her to confront it, forcing her to confront herself, gently teaching her. He had picked her up, at last, soothing her by the window, cradling her in his arms, both of them staring out at a long ago thunderstorm. She had been dry and safe in his arms as she had witnessed the fierceness outside, her heart at last slowing to his soft murmurs. She tried desperately to remember the lessons, tried to remember her father, but even his face was obscured, and with his absence the fear returned. Her heart ached and hammered as another bolt slammed into the earth outside. She found herself in front of the patio doors, her fingers touching the blinds. She had no recollection of moving to the doorway. Glancing back, her milk was unfinished, still sitting resolutely on the table. As she parted the venetian blinds with a flick of her wrist, another bolt of lightning showed its rage to the cowering land beneath. The flash lit her, framing her in the glass of the doorway. Her bare breasts uplifted, nipples painfully tight, as she caught her breath. Her mostly nude body beckoned the storm as her toes gripped the tile beneath her bare feet. The neighbourhood was dark; it was sleeping or carefully ignoring this storm venting the Gods' rage outside. She normally wouldn't have exposed herself like this, in only her pink panties, but she had to see the storm. Had to embrace it. Had to tame it. Her father had taught her so long ago. She concentrated, willing it to end, willing it to subside before her. The Gods smiled down on her simple beauty and her determination. For a moment, the winds died down, and the freezing hail ceased to

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Thunderstruck.html (3 of 8)8/15/2005 12:08:25 AM


descend. Quiet gripped the world. Kathleen sighed, silently shaking. As she turned away from the glass, the Gods, perhaps upset at losing sight of her beauty, relinquished their hold on the elements. Another crash of lightning lit up the gray sky, turning it shades of pink and rose, blinding the girl into stumbling away from the patio doors. A large maple shrieked in pain as the thunder nearly shattered the glass protecting Kathleen. As she sank to her knees, she glanced up at the clock lit bright blue on the microwave. 4:24 AM. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the lower light levels though streaks of orange suffused her vision. Tears ran down her face, blurring the clock. She blinked once, trying to clear her eyes of the moisture threatening to blind her. In a heartbeat, the blue luminescence of the numbers flashed into darkness. The refrigerator stumbled and fell silent. The rage of the storm intensified in the sudden silence. Instead of being satisfied with the damage it had wrought, the storm seemingly took joy in the cessation of electricity, inspiring further violence. Kathleen whimpered like a small child afraid of the monsters in the dark. She desperately conjured up the image of strong arms, safety, warmth and dryness. She rocked on her knees, silently crying, paralyzed, staring at the rain thundering into the deck beyond her gate of glass. She closed her eyes, hugging herself below her breasts. Inhaling, she took long deep breaths, still silently praying for forgiveness for whatever sins she had committed. Again, her father's image came to her, wrapping his strong arms around her, whispering comfort into her ear, stroking her strawberry blonde tresses. She slowly opened her wet eyes, actually feeling the arms around her. But it couldn't be her father. Slowly she turned her head, feeling soft breathing in her ear. "The storm, isn't it?" She nodded, unable to speak. "Come back to bed?" he asked her gently. She took a deep breath. Not answering him, she spoke quietly, her voice quivering. "Did I wake you?" http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Thunderstruck.html (4 of 8)8/15/2005 12:08:25 AM


Even though he was kneeling behind her, gently pulling her back between his knees, she could feel him smile. "No. Some small noise woke me, and you weren't there. I figured you'd be here." He tilted the glass against her lips and she drank her abandoned milk, savouring the taste. She could feel the solidity of his arms, nearly as firm as her father's, but not quite. She was grown now and solidity was a relative measure. He lowered the glass after it was empty, letting her catch her breath. "The Johnson's maple isn't very happy either ..." her voice trailed off. "And you like giving the neighbours a show?" he asked playfully as his finger traced down across her bare nipple. "I ... wasn't. I forgot my robe upstairs." "It's alright. Power's off. No light to see you by. Only this." His finger lightly traced down her other breast. She shivered against him but made no move to avoid his caress. Distracted, her hammering heart had slowed with his presence. His touch ignited a quicker, different beating. She closed her eyes and tried to return to the dream. Incense. Singing. Women in white. Calm. The storm receded, though peripherally she was aware of the hail and the intermittent flashes beyond her closed lids. She felt herself gathered in strong arms and lifted. She could almost believe she was still eight, and her father was returning a frightened, half asleep little girl to bed. Relaxing, finally, she allowed her husband to carry her, felt him stumble at the last stair, but didn't flinch. If the storm couldn't attack her in his arms, then the threat of a short fall didn't frighten her either. She felt his lips against hers as she was lowered to the bedclothes. The rain intensified, beating as though to interrupt, furious that it had been balked. She returned the kiss hungrily, reaching for him, pulling him to her, kissing fiercely, biting gently at his upper lip. She could feel her fingers tracing his skin, then removing the wispy



bit of pink cotton from her hips. She could feel his fingers touching her, stroking her, teasing her as their lips met in satiny lushness. Again, the storm receded, as though to give them privacy. Her body responded, her sex tingling and pulsing slowly - pulsing as though to the beat of the almost constant thunder crashing around her. He entered her in one smooth motion. She cried out at the sudden penetration, but immediately relaxed, enjoying the sensations of fullness. She pushed herself against him, wanting him pressed into the depths of her. Tears fell slowly from her eyes as she cried out softly, again, her voice intermixing with the storm's rage. Desperately, she moved with him, the waves of desire warring with the shore of irrational fear. Slowly, her insistent passion eroded to the centre of her being, the fierceness of the storm paled beside the fires building in their slow kisses and motion. Vaguely, she could hear the gentle squeaking of the bed through the white noise of the storm, above even her soft sighs. His joining with her exorcised the daemons of her fear. The waves built until she felt him stiffen inside of her with a muffled cry, spilling gently into her. His final deep thrust touched her, sending her cascading over the valleys and mountaintops of her onrushing climax. As she arched into him, her head fell back into the pillows, a bright light illuminated her senses. As she screamed out his name, the thunder embraced her, driving its bass into her core, joining her cry of triumph and pleasure. As her pulse slowly returned to normal, she hugged him as the thunder had embraced her moments ago. She held him close, laying her head upon his shoulder, whispering nonsense quietly into his ear. For a while they remained, comforting and near. The thunder had moved away after the final strike of rage at her defiant pleasure. Kathleen could feel her body demanding sleep, her eyes heavy and stinging. The aftermath of the tempest and her satiation flowed through her like an insistent whisper calling to her. Together, they lay, her head cradled in the crook of his arm. "Better?" he asked her sleepily. "Have I told you I loved you lately?" "I'll take that as a yes," he replied quietly. "Oh yes," she sighed into his rapidly slowing chest. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Thunderstruck.html (6 of 8)8/15/2005 12:08:25 AM


She was aware when he fell asleep again, his breathing telling her. She lay with him for some time, listening to the receding, ineffectual rumbling of the storm seemingly in rhythm with his breathing. Her body ached from the love making, but it was a nice ache. Pangs of tears rose unbidden to her eyes. Carefully, she slipped out of his sleepy embrace, padding across the hardwood again. She shivered, this time because her body temperature had dropped. She hugged herself, but didn't slip on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. She opened the blinds covering the bedroom window. She quietly slid the glass open, exposing the night. The distant rumble of the thunder carried more clearly to her ears. The sweet smell of summer rain infused her, and she inhaled it, savoured it, let it flow over her senses. She had conquered it, defied the Gods once more. She shivered as a cool wind caressed her bare breasts, raising small bumps as though she'd stepped from the shower. Drips of water fell irregularly from the roof onto the deck below, sounding like a faucet in need of tightening. The neighbour's maple had fallen across the grass, mute testament to the ferocity of the Gods. She would help the Johnsons with tomorrow's clean up. She sighed, feeling the heaviness of sleep invading her aching body. As she softly closed the window, she heard the sudden hum of the refrigerator fill the quiet house. The bedside clock flashed 12:00 in bright red bursts, as though thankful to her for freeing it from exile. She padded back to bed, slipping nude between the sheets. Warmth and peace flooded through her skin. She curled up, tucking the bedclothes back under her chin. Her musk permeated the room, mixing with the smell of fresh rain, providing a calming, airy elixir. She cradled her head against the familiarity of him, kissing gently at his chest. He stirred, but didn't wake. The storm passed. She listened to the last of the distant rumbles as they faded into safe obscurity. It was as though the storm had never been. Darkness and peace overtook her, and she gratefully joined her mate in the world of dreams. Her dreams were filled with gentle summer rain, women in white, and



incomprehensible words. But no thunder.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Colours of the Soul - Crimson Dragon

Colours of the Soul © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Colours of the Soul (MF, FF, cons, light bond, colours) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - August 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== It was an unusual rainbow, the colours shifting in iridescent patterns, in blatant defiance of physics, dancing with the sinking sun. The band of colour had formed after a brief afternoon shower, prismed into existence as the sun settled to shine brightly beneath the swollen overcast. The fiery spectrum sparked once and settled into a red as fierce as a ruby upon the finger of a princess. ---===***===--"Have you ever been tied up?" Brian asked her, smirking from behind his Styrofoam coffee cup. Jaime shivered slightly, almost afraid to answer. She nodded her head affirmatively, her eyes glancing nervously around the coffee shop.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (1 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


"Really?" he asked. A look of surprise graced his strong features. She nodded again, shyly, unsure of what he was asking. He joked around far more than he was serious. It was one of the reasons she was dating him. He laughed, the surprise melting off his face. "I don't mean cowboys and Indians in the old neighbourhood when you were ten years old." She swallowed heavily. She wanted to tell him, but she had never admitted it to anyone. Not even to her female confidantes. Not even to her roommate. To nobody. She shook her head. He looked at her strangely, his eyes glittering in amusement. This was another game to him. Nothing more. She sighed inwardly. His game meant far more to her. "My brother, the big idiot, used to tie me up occasionally, usually to keep me out of his way. He wanted to bring over a girl and didn't want me to tease him, or maybe he didn't want me to walk in on him." Brian cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes bright. Jaime gathered her courage and took a deep breath. She glanced once more around the coffee shop and determined that even the closest tables couldn't hear her if she whispered. "But he never tied me up without my clothes." *** Jaime lay quietly on the bed, not having much choice. She idly scanned the discoloured ceiling above her as she waited not so patiently for Brian to return. Tentatively, she pulled at the soft cord which encircled her wrists and ankles, holding her deliciously to the bed. She knew that she presented a picture, completely naked, stretched out, and helpless. She wished that she could see herself, wished that the closet door mirror were closer. She sighed inwardly, resigned to her limited view of the rise of her bare breasts and her poking nipples. She took a deep breath through her nose. Even if she tried to call out, her voice wouldn't carry through the heavy dorm room door. Even if the red rubber ball wasn't wedged behind her teeth. She pulled at http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (2 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


her ankles, flexing her toes. She could see her toes above her breasts if she lifted her head. She shivered as she considered that Brian would probably suck gently on her toes. She normally squirmed away when he did that to her, but today she wouldn't be able to. She'd practically begged him to do this to her. She wanted to be restrained, had fantasised about it since the coffee shop. The butterflies of anticipation fluttered about aimlessly in her insides. Her body was drenched in anticipation. Brian would return from his five minute run to the pharmacy, and open her door, his bright blue eyes shining at her predicament. He'd tease her, make love to her, perhaps leave her again, perhaps sit quietly and watch her. She didn't mind what he did, as long as he satisfied her. Eventually. Her body throbbed as she glanced around the room. She was aware of herself, especially her exposed nipples and between her spread thighs. She strained, half wanting to rise and surprise Brian with a hug and a kiss, and half wanting to stay exactly where she was. The anticipation was killing her. A low moan escaped around the intrusion wedged in her mouth. She watched the bright red numerals flash beside the small bed. He'd only been gone four minutes, but it seemed like eternity. She could feel her heart hammering uncontrollably in her chest. What if he didn't come back? What if there was a fire drill? Did they do a room check in the case of a fire drill? She shouldn't have nodded when he told her that he needed to go to the drug store. But she had wanted to be alone for a while. It was part of the game. She'd been alone when her brother had bound her so long ago. She had felt exactly like this. Hot and bothered and unable to do anything whatsoever about it. Delicious anticipation. Of course, back then, she'd been forced to satisfy herself after everyone else went to sleep, and after she'd been freed. This time it would be different. She glanced around the room, trying to distract herself. Ellen's side of the room was neat and tidy in sharp contrast to her own. She could see Ellen's clothing neatly folded and lying atop Ellen's chest of drawers. The floor on Ellen's side of the room was spotless. Jaime's clothing was strewn across the floor by her bed underwear, jeans, skirts and blouses a rainbow of colour across the worn carpet. After Ellen had left, Brian had watched quietly as she had dropped



the short red skirt and blouse from her body, adding them to the general disarray. He'd watched her with diffused light reflecting from those blue eyes of his. He'd watched as she stripped for him, and then offered herself, body and soul to the restraints. The red skirt and blouse radiated their colour from amongst her other clothing, beckoning her to gather them up and put them back on. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. Jaime tried to ignore the throbbing through her bound body. Ellen had left after a happy phone call about a half hour ago, promising to be out all night with some new guy named Steve. At that point, Brian and Jaime had exchanged knowing glances and smiled. Ellen had smiled as well, knowing full well what they would be up to in her absence. Jaime reflected ruefully, Ellen had only known part of it. She glanced at the clock again, feeling the odd sensations of moving her head with her gagged mouth. Six minutes. She shivered. Brian should be back any minute. The pharmacy was on campus, only a three-minute walk. She was humming to herself through the gag when she heard the door rattle. Jaime felt the heat flood through her system, anticipating the look on Brian's face, anticipating the touches, the caresses. She closed her eyes, pulling gently at her restraints. She heard the click of the key in the lock, and the door swung slowly open. She tried to smile around her gag, and began to open her eyes, ready to flutter them prettily at Brian. Instead, her eyes flew wide open at the startled female gasp which emanated from the open doorway. Ellen stood framed by the arch of the door, her jaw dropped and her body trembled. "Jaime?" Ellen spoke quietly. Confusion laced her voice. Jaime flushed from her bare toes to the tip of her nose. She could feel the flood of crimson rise through her bare skin. She pulled frantically against the ropes. She couldn't get enough air. Her arousal was gone; it hadn't faded, it had flown away like a frightened sparrow. Her cry was muffled by the damned red ball in her mouth. Ellen's face was a mask of grief, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. The tears were there before the sight of Jaime, caused by something else, not Jaime's position, not her humiliation. Ellen was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (4 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


barely looking at her. She seemed almost preoccupied. Jaime moaned through her gag, wanting desperately to be anywhere but here. She could feel her openness and her exposure like she was on display, which she supposed she was. She simply wasn't supposed to be on display for Ellen. Ellen managed to control her tears for a moment, concern and confusion flashing to replace the dismay on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, her voice quivering. She remained in the open doorway making no move to approach the bound girl. She stammered, "I ... I saw Brian ... he didn't answer when I called to him. I ... thought you were alone. I mean, you are alone, but ..." She furtively glanced over her shoulder as if expecting someone. Jaime wanted a blanket, or clothing, or to be free of the ropes. She wished that she were in Florida or somewhere far away. At least, she wished futilely, she wanted the rubber out of her mouth, to explain herself. But even if the ball wasn't between her teeth, what could she possibly say? She was anything but all right. Fighting her deep flush, Jaime slowly nodded, silently telling Ellen that she wasn't in danger. She couldn't do much else. Ellen inhaled sharply and blushed as realisation of her trespass flooded into her face. "I ... I didn't know. I'm so sorry." She turned and fled. The door closed quietly behind her. Jaime lay her head back and moaned through her gag. *** She was looking forward to his return, but for different reasons now. Her eyes snapped eagerly to look at the door as she heard rustling at the knob. Ellen had disappeared only a few minutes ago, but it seemed like an eternity she had lain here alone and helpless. "Hi babe! You look good enough to eat," Brian remarked jovially as he entered the small dorm room. He was carrying a non-descript paper bag, probably with the protection that they both favoured. His smile was easy, and eager.



Jaime opened her eyes and mewled through the rubber filling her mouth. She pulled desperately at her bonds. "Feisty?" Brian grinned at her. "Mmmmppppphhhhh," even her full scream of frustration fell muffled into the room. He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, between her outstretched arm and her thigh. He traced her bare breast with a fingertip, then slipped down her tight skin over her ribs and then toyed with her fine pubic hair. She cried out again, trying to put anguish into her mewls. She fought against the ropes, finally getting his attention again to her face. She couldn't help it, the tears began. Large silent tears coursed down her cheeks. At her tears, he finally realised something was amiss. "You don't want to do this anymore?" he asked her. Angrily, she shook her head. Immediately, he lifted her head and began to work at the clasp of the gag. When it was free, she pushed it out with her tongue. It fell beside her throat on the bedsheets. She could feel the leather lightly tickling her neck. "What's the matter?" he asked. His fingers fumbled with the bonds around her left wrist. He was stroking the skin where it disappeared under the ropes more than he was attempting to free her. Her dismay at Ellen's entrance had transformed to anger. Her eyes flashed ruby as she fought to control the tendrils of irrational emotion. Her voice bit at him. "You ... I ... fuck ... Ellen fucking came in. She saw me. Like this." Brian pulled back from her, leaving her still bound. "She did? Didn't she have a date?" he looked surprised but unconcerned.



"She was supposed to. Shit. She saw me like this, tied up like some sort of slut ... like some sort of animal. Let me out. Now." "Babe. Calm down. You wanted to do this, not me." "The hell you didn't. You led me to this with your joking around. I'm sorry I ever told you. Let me out. Now. I don't want to do this." "I do," Brian spoke quietly, making no move to release her. Jaime lay stunned for a moment, not quite believing what she'd heard. A moment later, fear flashed through her mind. Images of her being raped flooded through her head. Images of her struggling against her bonds. Images of Ellen's quiet scepticism. Ellen had seen her bound, but she'd told Ellen nothing was wrong. She was probably the biggest pervert ever, in Ellen's eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to jump out between her heaving breasts. Jaime lowered her voice, fighting the rising butterflies of fright, making her tone as menacing as she could. "Let me go. Now. And then get out." Even to her ears, she could hear the frightened waver in her voice. Brian looked at her, letting his eyes wander from her toes to her hips to her breasts and finally to her face. She was squirming, pulling at the knots, fighting with them. He traced her bare breast once more with his finger, touching the sensitive but no longer erect nipple. She flinched, hoping that he wouldn't re-gag her if he was going to rape her. At least she could scream without the gag. Maybe someone would hear. He let his index finger trace down her body, circling her belly button and lightly stroking her sex. She shivered at the touches and closed her eyes, squeezing out the remaining tears. "Please, Brian, let me go. I don't want to do this anymore." Even to her, her voice didn't sound completely sincere. "I have to find Ellen." He looked up at her face remaining silent, his finger still lightly caressing her private parts. She cringed, the sensations doing



nothing beyond irritating her. "You can't do this to me." Brian spoke to her as he might a child. At first, she was puzzled, caught in disbelief. Couldn't do what to him? Then it dawned on her what he was saying. "I can, and I will. Let me free. Now." She tried again to control her anger and fright. She was so damn helpless, and she wanted her freedom more than anything else in the world. He sighed, a long heavy sigh. His face flashed indecision and a touch of anger. He didn't want to stop, and like a child, he was petulant. He dropped away from her and knelt on the floor beside the bed. He looked down at her. "You really do want out, don't you? What happened to our plans?" "Ellen happened to them." She felt her disappointment and it translated into bitterness and anger at Brian. She was going to offer to continue later, when she felt better, but the feelings caused by his unrelenting advances hadn't faded yet, even though he'd stopped touching her body. She lay back her head into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She wasn't sure she wanted to be this helpless, at least with Brian, ever again. "This isn't part of the game anymore, is it?" his frustration was apparent in his poise and his voice. "What the hell do you think?" she lashed out at him in the only way she could, her eyes flashing. She was getting tired of the gentle approach. She was afraid that he wouldn't stop, take her anyway. Leave her there for Ellen to free whenever she returned. She couldn't do much to stop him. He took a deep breath and traced up her bare leg again, caressing her skin in a gesture that she'd normally enjoy and welcome. His fingers strayed to the inside of her thigh. This time it felt forced, and she tried to pull her leg away, unsuccessfully. "Brian, please," she finally fell into begging, her tears beginning again from her reddened eyes. She held herself as stiffly as she could, not encouraging him, holding her anger and fear in check. She shuddered despite her control. He swallowed heavily and reluctantly began to loosen her left wrist. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (8 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


The knots she couldn't reach came free easily for him, and soon her hand was no longer an extension of the bed. She covered her breasts as best she could with her free hand and turned her face toward him. "Get out. Now." "Jaime ..." "Out." He rose to his feet and walked slowly to the door. At the door, he turned to her, his face showing the first signs of true anger. He was still carrying the useless pharmacy bag. "I'm sorry," he mumbled but it didn't sound sincere. She could tell that he all really wanted to do was call her a "bitch" and then leave her. It was written across his face. Turning her head away from him, she fought to control her rising anger. She didn't want to yell at him, but anything she said now, even with the best of intentions, was going to be hurtful. Visibly struggling, she managed to keep her impotent flush at bay. She felt his eyes, like eels, travel her bare body once more, and then she heard the door snick shut leaving her alone. She let out her breath, and finally allowed herself to really cry. ---===***===--As the sun continued its slow descent to transcendence with the horizon, the rainbow shivered again, shimmering from bright crimson into an emerald green risen from the depths of Neptune. ---===***===--It had taken awhile, but she had managed to free herself. If Brian had freed her other hand, or she were left-handed, it probably would have been easier. After tossing aside the last cord, she had curled up on the bed and cried until there were no more tears. At last, she had slowly risen to her bare feet, and pulled on clothing from the floor. Blue jeans, a light green blouse, ankle socks, and Nikes.



She ran most of the way to the central library on campus, her running shoes pattering through the twilight. The sky above her glowed with a soft emerald light as the sun began its descent below the horizon. The motionless evening air surrounded her and filled her senses with newfound freedom and relief. She glanced around the nearly deserted library lobby - only a few freshmen hunched into carrels. One girl looked up briefly at Jaime's breathless entry. She was a young girl, probably eighteen, blonde. She quickly looked away, but it was enough for Jaime. "Excuse me," Jaime spoke in a hushed voice. The girl's eyes travelled to the red marks around Jaime's wrists but she didn't comment. To Jaime, at least, the marks were like a brand; everyone could tell what she had been doing. She flushed slightly and held her hands behind her back, moving the telltale marks out of sight. The girl's eyes travelled to Jaime's face, ignoring the flush rising there, but taking in the bloodshot eyes. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Would have come in here about twenty minutes ago, crying maybe? Short. Blonde hair." Jaime tried to keep her voice steady. "I think I saw her. Don't know where she went, though." The girl looked uncomfortable, making connections in her mind that may not have appealed to her conventional views of society. It was enough that Ellen was in the library. Jaime thanked the bewildered freshman and walked swiftly to the elevators. The wait was interminable, and Jaime had impatiently moved towards the stairs, when the elevator doors rattled opened. She stepped inside and pressed the numeral six, the top floor of the building. The ride up was slow but no other students joined her. She glided out of the elevator, and glanced around. The top floor appeared deserted and quiet. But then, libraries normally were quiet. She began to walk the familiar route toward the east side of the stacks. All the aisles were deserted. Jaime turned down the last aisle, walking slowly towards the windows. Her running shoes squeaked as they moved across the tile, the noise shrill through the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (10 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


silence. "I'm over here," a quiet voice spoke off to the right. Jaime turned and spotted a pair of bare legs in the shadow of a study carrel. A pair of running shoes was placed neatly beneath the chair. As she approached the carrel, Jaime heard a deep sigh. "I'm getting predictable. You found me," Ellen spoke from behind the enclosed study desk. Jaime lowered herself into the chair beside Ellen. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to her roommate. The silence stretched into an uncomfortable void. "Jaime, I'm sorry for walking in on you like that. I ... I was upset and didn't think. I ... knew what you were up to tonight. I'm sorry I ruined it." Jaime recoiled in surprise. No mention of the bondage. No mention of her kinkiness. No accusing voice. No wanting out of the rooming arrangement. Jaime couldn't find her tongue. It was caught somewhere between her molars and her front teeth, immobile. After a moment of silence, Ellen ventured another quick word. "What happened? Why are you here? I wasn't expecting you for hours. Is Brian pissed?" Jaime licked her lips, feeling the tears again. "He ... he was going to rape me, I think, after I wanted out. After you ... surprised me. I'm not sure, but I think he's pissed at me." Ellen looked up, her face still tear streaked from something inside herself. Her eyes grew wide, and she shuddered. "He was going to rape you? Like ... that? Oh my God. Why didn't you tell me when I came in? He didn't, did he?" Her own tears had ceased for now and her face was a mask of anger and pain. Jaime provided her something else to concentrate on. Jaime shook her head. "He didn't. Thank god. I have no idea why.



Maybe I managed to shake him up. I was pretty angry." She flushed deeply. "I ... let him tie me up. It ... was after you walked in that I wanted out and he wouldn't stop." "You must be shaken up." "A little. Mostly angry. I'm all right. At least I am physically." She flushed again, examining her wrists. "Other than a few rope burns." Ellen sighed, reassured. She bent her head back down and pretended to be reading the thick book on the desk in front of her. "Aren't you going to ask why I was like that?" Jaime asked tentatively. Ellen looked up, her face red. "I ... I know what you were doing. And why. It's all right. I understand. It's normal as far as I'm concerned and I won't tell anyone. I just didn't know that ... you liked that kind of stuff. Now I do." Jaime breathed a huge sigh of relief, mostly because Ellen didn't think she was completely insane. Ellen looked back to her book quickly, avoiding further discussion of the matter. Jaime glanced over Ellen's shoulder. "The collected works of Shakespeare? Again? Last time it was your break up with Anthony, and you were reading Romeo and Juliet. Only that time it took me hours to find you. I didn't even know you liked Shakespeare." Ellen looked up, tears flooding back into her eyes. "It was Anthony again. I ... I saw him at the theatre ... with another girl. She ... looked a little like me. Then Steve ... the guy I was there with ... noticed me staring and he got pissed at me. Understandably. I told Steve to go to hell," Ellen smiled ruefully. "Quite a pair tonight, aren't we? At least you still have your guy." "I'm not so sure about that. And my guy was about to rape me. I'll trade you any day. Anthony might be an insensitive lout, but no means no to him, at least." The girls lapsed into silence. After a time, Jaime rose and hunted down the familiar stacks, running her finger over the dusty book spines. She pulled out a volume and returned to Ellen. She settled into the chair beside her, kicked off http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (12 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


her running shoes, and opened the collected works of Keats. "Keats?" Ellen asked softly. Jaime nodded, and felt the tears begin again. She watched as the first moisture dripped from her chin, splashing gently onto Keats. The words of the poet blurred, but she kept reading anyway. *** She hadn't heard from Brian all week. She'd left a few messages for him with his roommate and had even taped one to his door. But the phone remained stubbornly silent. She was distracted, but she persevered, gamely going out to the BombShelter with Ellen after class, hoping that Brian would show up. They needed to talk. After sleeping, and awakening to her bed that still had rope attached to the bedposts, she needed to know what he'd intended that night with her. What would have happened? Whether it was part of his game, or whether he really would have raped her if she'd given less resistance? She wasn't sure how she felt anymore. Confusion dominated her thoughts. Maybe she had led him on, even with her denials. She had to talk to him. She shook herself out of a daydream and picked up the phone. Calculus could wait. Ellen, already in her bright green nightgown, was brushing out her blonde hair while she read her assignment for the next day. Ellen glanced up at her, and sighed. "The guy tried to rape you," Ellen spoke quietly. "Leave it, forget him." "I need to know," Jaime replied softly as she punched the numbers on the phone. It rang three times before it was picked up. "Jaime?" the voice on the other end of the phone wasn't Brian. Ted, his roommate, was an art major, pierced and purple haired. She liked him well enough, but at the moment, Brian was using him to screen calls. She was sure of it. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "I didn't, but you are the only one to ever call here." "Can I speak to Brian, please?"



Ted sighed and spoke gently. "Jaime, Brian isn't here right now." "He is. Please let me talk to him?" Another sigh. "Jaime, darling. This time he isn't, truly. Which is why I'm going to level with you. Brian would kill me if he knew that I'd talked to you. OK?" She mumbled non-commitally. "Darling, I like you, and I wish that Brian wasn't such an idiot. For your sake. You are far too nice to put up with his shenanigans. You deserve better than him. He's been seeing another girl." The silence stretched until Ellen spoke softly, from the other side of the room. "Is everything all right, Jaime?" she asked. Jaime swallowed heavily. Ellen's voice brought her out of a shocked trance and crashing headlong back into reality. She spoke quietly into the phone. "Ted. How long?" "About a month maybe two. I'm sorry, Jaime." "It's OK. I should have known." "Take care, Jaime. Take care." She settled the receiver into the cradle and lay back on her bed, staring at nothing. Ellen tentatively lowered herself to Jaime's bed and touched her shoulder. Jaime rolled over, away from Ellen, hiding her face. She felt the other girl rise off the bed and return to her own bed across the room. The lights extinguished as Ellen crawled between her sheets. "Good-night," Ellen whispered into the silent room. *** She'd begged the guy to tie her up. She'd told him things that nobody else in the world knew. She'd slept with him. She'd even http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (14 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


loved him. And he was seeing another woman the whole time. She'd trusted him, dammit, more than anyone else in the world. Waves of jealousy intermixed with anger and envy flowed through her. She could feel the tingles and the mixture of the emotions flooding her senses. The other girl was with him, probably right now, perhaps dancing, perhaps making love, her nails scratching down his back. It wasn't fair. The first tear slipped from her eyes into the darkness, falling unheeded to the sheets. Ellen lay awake silently, trying not to hear the gentle sobs from Jaime's side of the room. ---===***===--As the sun caressed the water with its ethereal rays, the rainbow began to fade. In a flash of light, the moisture in the air picked up the reflection from the calm ocean. Dazzling blue, as bright as a sapphire, the rays blazed across the sky in a last attempt to light the unseeing world. ---===***===--They sat at a small table for two, sipping Rickard's Red. They hadn't spoken much since he'd picked her up from her dorm room. Ellen had raised an eyebrow at his appearance, but hadn't said anything. "Jaime, I've already apologised a million times for not calling you back. I was busy. School. Remember?" She sat back in her chair and regarded Brian. It had been his looks that had attracted her, originally. She was sure of it. Even now, he was physically attractive to her, his blue eyes shining in the dim light. His easy voice sounded so sincere and believable. She took a deep breath. "You scared the hell out of me." "I've explained that as well. I thought it was part of the game. I thought you wanted me to plow through resistance."



She sighed. "Maybe I did. And maybe it's my fault. I don't know. I didn't have the right to get that angry with you. I was the one who begged you to tie me up in the first place." She glanced around, self-conscious of the intimate small room. Other patrons could probably hear her, but this time at least, they weren't on campus. She could raise a few eyebrows without too much concern of what other students thought of her. "And it isn't your fault that Ellen came back early." Brian sat back, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Back to being friends, at least?" he asked her. Jaime pursed her lips. She had hoped to hold off discussion until after the show. "Can we talk about this later? More privately?" A huge grin took over Brian's face. "How much more privately?" "Get your mind out of the gutter," she replied with an edge to her voice. His smile dropped a notch. "We can try it again, if you like. We can talk about it with you tied down on a bed. We can ensure that there aren't interruptions. I promise not to leave you again." His grin was playful. She looked up sharply at him. His eyes sparkled with that easy sense of humour she had always loved. How had she ever mistaken that sparkle for caring about her? Anger flooded her again. She fought it, but her mouth engaged before she was able to stop it. "What about your other girl? Shall we tie her down as well? Maybe on top of me? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Brian's smile dropped twenty notches and shock registered across his face. "Does she look like me?" Jaime couldn't stop herself, her voice rising. "Does she FUCK like me? Does she let you tie her to the bed?" Heads turned across the small theatre. A few people coughed http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (16 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


nervously. Brian swallowed heavily and turned red. Jaime hissed at him, "Where did you meet her? When were you going to introduce us? Who is she?" Brian took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jaime. You weren't supposed to find out. Ted told you, didn't he?" "I found out. You were going to rape me, weren't you?" Her voice startled an elderly couple next to them. Brian spoke in a whisper. "Christ. Keep your voice down. I didn't rape you. And even if I had had sex with you, it wouldn't have been rape." She felt like slapping him. She felt like throwing the rest of her beer in his face. She felt like crying. "I was tied down, yes, by my choice. But that doesn't give you the right to have sex with me, or even to touch me, if I say no," she whispered at him angrily. She began to rise to her feet, ready to get the bartender to call her a cab. Brian was faster, rising to his feet, an angry flush rising on his cheeks. She sat back down quickly, hurting her bottom as she dropped to the hard seat. "I should have raped you, you little slut," he hissed, loudly enough to rattle the elderly couple next to them. As he stormed out of the club, a few patrons close to her table clapped sporadically. Jaime lowered her crimson face to the table and struggled to control the shaking. When the lights dimmed, she slowly trying to ignore the surreptitious turned towards the stage and tried happened. She felt terribly alone,

lifted her tear-streaked face, glances of the other patrons. She not to think about what had just and bitter.



A woman in a bright blue sequinned dress climbed to the piano on the stage. She carried a wireless microphone. A man, also in blue, joined her, sitting at the keys. The woman in blue leaned back on the ebony wood and stared out at the crowd, quieting the murmuring with her presence. Her voice was as clear and controlled as any professional artist. It was a dusky voice, like none other. Blues notes washed over Jaime, melting her anger, her hurt, her betrayal, her fears. She lost herself into the piano and the sultry voice, falling down away from Brian, away from her life. The blues uplifted her, sent her heart somewhere else, somewhere safe and comforting. She wanted to go home, not to her dorm room, but home. *** The light touch to her shoulder surprised her, and she almost broke the magical atmosphere of the music with a screech. She was prepared to lash out at Brian physically, if necessary. Her wrist was caught mid-flight by a soft hand that she could easily have overpowered in her emotional state. "Ted called me," Ellen spoke quietly, just above the singers amplified voice. "I think he gave Brian a sucker punch for you. You don't need to hit me, but if it will make you feel better, I'll let you." Jaime felt all the muscles in her body relaxing as her hand was gently released. Her fingers fell out of the clenched fist as quickly as they had formed it. Tears welled up her eyes, partially in relief, partially in gratitude, partially in response to her soul music. The music ended with a long perfect drawn out note from the girl on stage. "My name is Mona, and I sing the blues. Hope you enjoyed the set," the dusky voice was no different in speech than it was in song. "I'll be back in five minutes." There was a moment of silence as the patrons recovered, and then the applause was deafening. Even Ellen, recently arrived, was clapping. Mona blushed, bowed, and retreated from the stage with a flash of blue sequins. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/COTS.html (18 of 20)8/15/2005 12:08:45 AM


Ellen settled into the chair formerly occupied by Brian, and gently took Jaime's hand. The girls didn't speak; it wasn't necessary. *** It was one in the morning when the girls returned to the dorm. Both had residual tears in their eyes from Mona and her blues. The door to the room clicked shut behind them and they stood quietly in the dark. Jaime felt soft lips brush hers, and she felt odd tingles running through her body, down her spine, tingling from the tips of her breasts to the centre of her being. She kissed back, unable to stop herself, not wanting to stop herself. Ellen pulled away slowly. Jaime could sense her standing just out of reach, towards the neat side of the room. "Ellen?" Jaime spoke softly towards the shadow. Ellen took a deep breath. "I want to, Jaime. But not tonight. I know what you went through this evening, and I'm not sure I'm ready for this either. I'm frightened. Frightened I won't feel this way in the morning. Take it slow. OK? Lots of time. Maybe some day we can play, when we are both ready." Jaime felt Ellen's fingers touch her hand and she was guided towards Ellen's small bed. The girls lay down together, still fully dressed from the theatre, Jaime engulfed in Ellen's arms. Ellen's scent was light and unlike any that Jaime had ever smelled before. The physical closeness was comforting. Jaime felt her tension falling, feeling safe and secure for the first time in weeks. Her eyes felt heavy, a kaleidoscope of reds and greens and blues converging beneath her lids. Then everything faded to darkness, only disturbed by Ellen's regular breath against her neck. ---===***===--As the sun fell to the west, the rainbow shimmered, all colours becoming distinct and brilliant. Its radiance bathed the lush, pristine, landscape below, shifting from crimson to violet in a blaze of light and hope. The arch of silky light, pulsed one last



time, almost as though contented at last, and shimmered out of existence as the sun surrendered to the quiet of night. The sun would rise again, bringing with it a new day, and the promise of a new rainbow.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Precious - Crimson Dragon

Precious © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


====================================================================== Precious (F, city, introspection, angel) ====================================================================== (c) July 1998 - All rights reserved. Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ====================================================================== The cool brick felt rough beneath her feet, her bare toes unconsciously gripping the solidity of the stone. She glanced down at the lights so far below which looked like streaks of red and white, like a time-lapse of a city. Another tear traced down her cheek, blurring her vision. It had begun like any normal day. The alarm shrilled out its ear-splitting buzz at 6:30 AM. Sleepily, her fingers touched the snooze bar. Five minutes later, James shoved her, and she woke up again, murmuring to be left alone. James shoved her again, and she sleepily swung her legs out of the bed, her bare feet recoiling from the cold floor. She hissed urgently, "Can't we get any damn heat in here?"

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (1 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


She tried to settle her soles back to the parquet. Her toes reflexively jumped until she adjusted to the sharp contrast between the floor and her comfortably warm sheets. James spoke uncharacteristically gently, "I'll talk to the super. You have to get up, now." He wouldn't talk to the superintendent, but most of the time he wouldn't even bother to lie to her. She held her head in her hands. She had to get up every damn day. And she didn't want to. James rolled over, away from her. The snooze timed out and the alarm buzzed again, shattering the silence of the room. She instinctively reached out and switched off the alarm. James cursed softly towards the window. She couldn't quite make out his words, but it was something about her inability to turn off simple machines. She blinked and struggled to her feet, stumbling to the bathroom across the hallway. The shower helped wake her, but she was still tired as she brushed out her long blonde hair. Her hair dripped slowly onto her bare shoulders and down her back as she made her way down the short hallway into the small kitchen. She quietly ate cold cereal with a glass of juice, and read the cereal box. She was certain, without looking, that the neighbours had stolen her newspaper again. No point to even looking. She could hear the dripping of a tap somewhere, but she was reasonably sure it wasn't in her apartment. She at least tried to keep the place maintained. A scream echoed down the hallway outside the main doorway, but she knew better than to investigate it. She lifted the spoon to her lips slowly, her eyes scanning the happy honeybee on the box and the list of vitamins that she was ingesting. She idly wished that the vitamins could make her as happy as the bee. She finished her meagre breakfast, and dumped the bowl and spoon in the sink. James might wash it for her, but she wouldn't hold her breath. She padded back down to the bedroom. James was asleep again under the covers. She dropped the towels from around her and moved efficiently around the room and tiny closet, searching for and finding some clean underwear and one of two dresses that she owned. She chose the bright blue dress for today, pulling it effortlessly over her head to settle around her form. She licked her lips. There was a time when James would have watched http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (2 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


her dress. And she would have enjoyed it. Now, she was simply glad that he was asleep. She didn't feel like fighting with him to find a job, didn't feel like doing anything, actually. Even if he were awake and watching her, he wouldn't be interested in going any further than quietly watching her. Six months ago, he would have, but not now. She straightened her blue dress in front of the mirror. She wasn't *that* unattractive, she surmised. Yet they hadn't made love in two ... no ... three months. She had tried at first, and then given up trying. They slept together, but they didn't. She wasn't even sure who James was anymore. She walked out of the room without a second glance, her stockings whispering across the floorboards. She picked up her purse, and clutching it protectively against her hip, she carefully locked up her apartment. She avoided any contact on her way to the elevators. She hadn't heard another scream, but that might not be a good thing. The subway ride downtown was terrible, with disgustingly scruffy, and downright dangerous people. She stood, hand raised, swaying with the subway car, trying not to breathe. An obvious transvestite smiled at her, and he ... she ... it was probably the most pleasant person on the car this morning. The smell of liquor and a faint trace of urine invaded her senses. She cringed as the bustle went on around her. A petite girl, perhaps twenty-five, entered the train and looked around. She appeared frightened, unsure of herself, beaten. The small girl reminded her of what she probably looked like. The girl stopped a few metres away, joined the crowd, and stared at nothing as the train moved off. The nametag on her cube matched everyone else's, except for the name on it: 'Janice MacDonald'. She wasn't even sure who she was anymore. All she knew was that the name on her cube told her that she, indeed, was a girl named Janice. She barely remembered Janice. Janice was a schoolgirl, in a bright yellow dress, playing with her parents in a park. Janice was a college student, discovering life, dreaming of marrying the perfect man, having fun. It had only taken three years, and one dingy cube to break those dreams. Janice was no longer the woman entering Janice's cube.



She sat down and stared at the screen in front of her. Meaningless, green letters stared back at her. She sighed, and began to type. The announcement had come at 4:35 PM, twenty-five minutes before she could go home to a listless dinner, television, avoiding James, and then blissful sleep. She looked forward to the sleep. She had never been paged before, and was barely aware that the office even had a paging facility. She listened, distanced, for her name again. "Janice MacDonald to Mr. Simpson's office, please." It crackled through the office like a beacon. She slowly rose to her feet and walked toward the vice-president's office. She didn't even know what the man did, might not even recognise him in the hallways of this labyrinth. She didn't even know the man's given name. But Mr. Simpson was a vice-president, that she knew. In this office, VP's carried some weight. As she was preparing to knock at the oak door, emblazoned with the tag 'Frederick Simpson - Vice President Operations', a female voice floated up from a desk beside the office. "Can I help you?" the woman asked. She had a blank expression on her face, and it almost seemed like she was asking by habit, rather than any desire to be of assistance. Janice nodded and spoke quietly. "I'm Janice MacDonald," she wasn't sure of that. "I was paged for Mr. Simpson." "Ah. Yes." The woman's face became more sympathetic. Almost as though she knew what the page was about. "You may go right in." Janice turned the knob and let herself into a cool, dark, deserted office that smelled vaguely of cigars. She swallowed heavily and turned to retreat, sure she had the wrong office. A silhouette moved by the shadow that was the desk. "Miss MacDonald?" a husky male voice beckoned her.



She turned frightened, as a rabbit might when in the presence of a wolf. "Mr. Simpson? Why is it dark in here? I ... I thought ..." She thought she saw him move a hand and the lights came on blinding her. She blinked furiously and stood by the doorway. The heavy door closed on its own with a quiet snick. "I like to think in the dark," he spoke quietly. His voice carried an air of authority. He was a rugged, large man. Janice could tell even though he was sitting behind the massive desk. She felt awkward standing, feeling small and unimportant. "You paged me?" she asked, uncertain. "I did." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, waiting for him to elaborate. He seemed content to watch her squirm. Finally, she ventured hesitantly, "May ... may I sit down?" He licked his lips and spoke again. "I don't think that will be necessary. This will only take a moment." He paused. "Miss MacDonald, it has come to my attention that you have been constantly late, and your performance has been poor." She shuddered. performing any employment. If involuntarily,

She had never been late, and she certainly hadn't been less data entry than over the last three years of her anything, her typing skills had improved, and she was typing faster than before.

"I ... I don't understand," she stammered. He leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "You work proficiency has dropped 25% over the last month," he smiled. She shivered at his smile. "That ... that can't be."



"I have figures," he waved non-committally at his desk where there was a jumble of papers. She couldn't make out what the papers on his desk were. They could have been stock quotes for all she knew. She swallowed heavily, uncertain where to go from here. He smiled again at her. "Janice, may I call you Janice?" She nodded apprehensively. "This is a delicate matter, Janice. By rights, I should fire you." "Oh God," she mumbled, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. She could not believe that her work had dropped this much. She was certain that it hadn't. Even with the problems with James, and her depression. Her work had not suffered. She was certain. She couldn't afford to lose her job. "But there are some options ..." his voice trailed off. She swallowed heavily. Suddenly the room was far too small and cold. She could feel her nipples tightening involuntarily. She didn't even want to know what the options were. She could tell by his easy smile. He took a deep breath. For the first time, he looked a little nervous. "You could do something for me, and I might not have to act on your work problems, if you can guarantee that I don't see this again." She found her voice, which had hidden somewhere deep in her throat. "What do I have to do?" she asked dully. He seemed to consider, though she was quite sure he long ago knew what he would ask of her. He slowly stood. Her eyes became large and round as she took in his hard and erect penis jutting out from his open zipper. It looked obscene to her. She closed her eyes and moaned. Suddenly, his breath was hot in her ear. "You might show your gratitude for my looking the other way." His fingers touched her shoulder, toying with the strap of her dress. She shuddered at the touch and looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. He was taller than she, and his physical size was threatening and overpowering. She cringed back. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (6 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


"You want to take it off?" he asked quietly. She shook her head negatively, trembling. "If you'd prefer, we can fire you ... your decision." He began to tuck himself back into his zipper. She shook her head again, couldn't believe this was happening. Not to her. Not to Janice of the bright yellow dress in the park. Not to Janice the college dreamer. It wouldn't happen to any of them. But it was happening to her. He smiled and let himself fall free of his pants again. "That's a good girl," he spoke huskily as he moved towards her again. He slipped his finger inside the strap and pulled it towards her shoulder. She let it fall with a shudder. Her left side, then her right. With a sense of the surreal, she noticed that he was being gentle with her as he eased the blue cloth down her body. Her mind was whirling, almost watching as though she was outside of herself. She felt her hand being guided to the hardness, she could feel his hands touching her. He was touching her as only a few men, by her choice, had touched. Her breasts. Her bottom. Tracing her thighs. She shivered. His hypnotic voice maintained a slow cadence, focusing her on her job, her performance. She had to pay the rent, she had to support James, she couldn't lose this job. A dull ache in her nipple brought her back to reality. His fingers had coaxed her unwilling left nipple to rigidity, and he had bitten her through her thin bra. She yelped and backed away. "You want Daddy to spank you?" he asked, fingering his belt. Her mind exploded. He couldn't do this to her. She could see the material of her dress, a flash of blue against his green carpet. Her mind was filled with a picture of her bent over his massive desk, naked and exposed, waiting for him. For his belt, or his penis, she couldn't tell. She felt her exposure like a living thing, could feel a tear fall gently down her cheek. Her crying only appeared to inflame the big man, and he reached for her again. She took a huge breath, and slapped away his hand. He recoiled as if



he'd been bitten by a cobra. She was seething. She took advantage of his indecision, and not caring what the outside world thought of her, she grabbed her cotton blue dress from the floor, pushed at him as she passed, and walked out to the incredulous look of the bored receptionist. She gathered the material as best she could around herself and made it to the ladies room before gushing. She felt nauseated, and repulsed. She hated herself for letting it go on as long as it had. She could feel his hands on her breasts, between her legs. Entering a stall, she sat down, letting herself shake and sob, not bothering to close the flimsy door. At last, she gathered up her dress from the tile at her feet, and slipped it over her head. Wiping at the tears, she slowly let herself out of the stall. She washed her face, trying desperately to scrub the crawling sensations from her skin. He was waiting across from the ladies room, with his secretary, or whoever she was. Janice shivered and prepared to scream. She turned away from him, trying to remain calm and walk back to her cube. The other woman's presence helped a little. "Miss MacDonald?" She apparently was no longer 'Janice'. She turned, fright written over her face. It was after hours by now, and she didn't really know the other woman. She blushed as her eyes glued to his hands. Those hands that had touched her so intimately. He held out a small envelope. She crept forward and took it from his unresisting fingers like a mouse trying to get the cheese without springing the trap. The paper inside was pink. Her heart was hammering in her chest, even though she had known that it would be the price of her running out of his office. She swallowed heavily, fighting back her tears. "I ... I'll clean out my office." "Miss MacDonald, given the circumstances, we will send the personal items from your office. Ms. Robertson will escort you from the building." Without a second look at her, he turned on his heel. At the mention of her name, the other woman stepped forward guiding Janice to the elevator silently. It took forever for the lift to arrive. Janice http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (8 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


willed the tears back while fingering the pink slip of paper. She was ushered into the elevator, and Ms. Robertson entered with her. The doors rattled shut with a sense of finality. "I wasn't supposed to come in here with you," Ms. Robertson spoke quietly. "Are you all right?" Janice burst into tears again at the kind words. She felt the other woman brushing at her hair, straightening it. "I know what he does, if you need a witness," the other woman whispered. "It'll be my job too, but you are the first one to walk out of there. I ... I envy you. I wish I had." The doors rattled open. Janice felt a firm hand guiding her from the building and pressing a small piece of cardboard into her trembling fingers. She stood silently outside as the late afternoon sun hit her face. The business card in her palm felt like it was on fire. "Good luck," the woman said to her as she locked the door with a decisive click. It was dark before Janice realised that she was walking aimlessly in the park across from the insurance company where she had once worked. The small pink piece of paper remained clutched in her hand. She looked up at the building, the fluorescent lights in the windows a beacon to her. She settled into a park bench, and tried to think. People passing by on evening strolls gave her strange looks, like she was a homeless person. She supposed that she nearly was. At last, she rose to her feet. Her feet ached, and she wanted to take her shoes off, but she didn't dare to downtown. She was hungry, and tired, and wanted to go home. Maybe James had actually done something today. Maybe he made her dinner for once. Or maybe, he'd found a job. She sighed. As long as she was dreaming, maybe she'd win the lottery. The tears renewed as she walked slowly towards the subway. The subways were still busy, even at 9:30 at night. She shuddered as



she found a niche between a drunken bum, and a woman blessing the windows. Janice grasped the handrail above her head as though her life depended upon it. Halfway across the city, a pregnant woman stepped onto the car. She was carrying five shopping bags, all filled with old baby toys. She was glowing, an aura in the dinginess of the subway. She stood across the aisle from Janice, one hand on her distended tummy, her other gripping the ceiling rail. She swayed awkwardly, but smiled anyway. Janice guessed her to be perhaps eight months along. If I had a seat, if I'd ever had a seat, Janice thought to herself, I'd offer it to the woman. But the busy city ignored the two of them, bouncing them along the tracks, the squealing of the brakes hurting their ears. Neither the slack-jawed teen, nor the overweight woman wearing what looked like a muumuu, did anything but sit in front of the pregnant woman, and stare at her like she was from another planet. Perhaps they'd never seen a happy person before. Janice felt like telling both of them off. She didn't, knowing it was a lost cause. The woman smiled at her, and Janice felt her heart lift a tiniest bit. Janice tried to smile back, but failed. Instead, she looked away, feeling guilty as she did. It was at a subway stop, called out as Bloor, that Janice was thrown to the floor. A burly man, determined to beat the rush to the doors, barrelled through her as though she were made of pixie dust. Janice hit the subway floor with a cry of pain, her ankle folding beneath her. She began to cry as sharp bursts of agony flowed up her shin and into her knee. She fought for control, nobody cried on the subway, not like a little girl fallen off her bicycle. A soft touch to her face opened her eyes from a pain filled scrunch. A gentle glowing face hovered above her. "Are you all right?" the pregnant woman asked. Janice moved her foot. Pain, but not broken. She numbly nodded. The tractor that had bowled her over was long gone, not caring who he ran over as long as he stepped out at the right station. "You've been down there a while, and nobody else was helping," the pregnant woman spoke, quickly. "It took me a moment to get over here. Are you okay? I can press the emergency bar, if you want."



Janice gritted her teeth. Given a few minutes, she'd be fine. "Thank-you. I'll be up and dancing in a few minutes." The woman knelt down beside Janice on the floor of the train. Her fingers lightly brushed Janice's hair. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Ankle," Janice gritted her teeth again. "There's more wrong than that," the woman spoke slowly. "Can you walk?" "Soon, just let me lie here for a moment." "Floor's dirty," the woman smiled ruefully. "Don't I know it. I don't even want to think about what I'm lying in." "What's wrong?" the woman repeated her question after a moment. "My life is a mess, my boss molested me and then fired me this afternoon, and my boyfriend is a jerk, and now my ankle hurts," Janice snapped. She didn't even know why she was telling this stranger about her life. The pregnant woman spoke sympathetically, ignoring the tone of Janice's voice, "Sounds like a rough day." "I'm sorry," Janice turned to better face the woman. "I didn't mean to snap at you. You're only being kind to me." "It's all right. Nobody else around to help, I guess," she looked around at the legs like tree trunks throughout the crowded car. Janice laughed a little. "I'm actually grateful." She heard her stop called, and pressed against the floor. She was still a little winded, but was able to get to her hands and knees. A hand reached down and touched her shoulder. Gratefully, Janice grasped it and with a grunt, pulled herself to her feet. Her ankle throbbed. She looked into the hazel eyes of the pregnant woman who had



helped her. Suddenly ashamed, Janice mumbled a quick thank-you, and limped towards the doorway. The hulk hadn't had this much trouble getting to his stop, she thought bitterly. "Janice?" She turned, wondering how the woman knew her name. It didn't matter. Not really. "Don't do anything stupid. It's too precious," the woman spoke softly, brushing her brunette hair out of her face with her fingers. Janice felt a soft brush of the woman's lips across her cheek, even though metres separated them. The train seemed like it had stopped, and yet was moving. Sound crashed back into her ears as the doors opened and movement resumed. When she glanced through the subway window to wave to the woman, she was gone, swallowed by the city. Janice limped towards the exit. She called out James' name as she entered the dark apartment. He didn't answer. Drunk and passed out again, most likely, she thought bitterly as she kicked off her shoes. She sighed as her feet touched the warm parquet. She was hungry and tired. It would have been nice if just once, he'd made dinner for her. She was tempted to send out for Chinese, but she no longer was gainfully employed. If they wanted to even stay in this dingy apartment much longer, he'd have to get a job, or more likely, she would. She poked her head into the bedroom, expecting to see him asleep under the covers, not even concerned about her late appearance. Except he wasn't there. She wandered through the empty apartment, searching for him. He never left the apartment. No sign of him in the kitchen or the living room. Even the ever-present television was silent. Goddamn. He was out. Probably spending her money, which at first she hadn't minded sharing with him. She sighed, and reached under her dress. She pulled off the pantyhose, noticing a run up high on the thigh. She carelessly tossed the ugly things behind the sofa. Next job, if there were one, would not involve her wearing pantyhose. She walked barefoot to the liquor cabinet, and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (12 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


opened it with a sharp pull. She had trouble recognising what was missing. Everything but a full bottle of Jack Daniel's was gone. She hadn't been in the cabinet for months, but it seemed unlikely that even James could have drank that much. She grabbed the remaining bottle and walked quickly to the kitchen, shaking her head. Her bare feet pattered over the parquet, making a pretty sound. Her ankle still throbbed a little from her fall, but at least it wasn't swelling, yet. She grimaced as she picked up a grimy shot glass from the cabinet. She wiped the rim on a dishtowel, satisfied that she wasn't going to be poisoned. She glanced furtively up at the top shelf. A cookie jar with mushrooms emblazoned on it sat high up there. She knew the jar intimately; it had belonged to her grandmother. Suddenly a fear gripped her stomach. She didn't want to, but she reached up, pulling the jar down, sinkingly certain of its contents from the weight. She lifted the top, knowing. It was empty. Tears slipped slowly down her face. A perfect day. Molested, fired, her ankle nearly broken, her liquor gone, and now her savings. She felt a knot form in her stomach, and she sobbed. The money she'd ferreted away, ironically for his birthday, and it was gone. She'd given up so much to save it. Instinctively, she knew he was gone. Taken her money and disappeared. She wouldn't miss him, but she'd miss the regularity, the security of having someone. What else could there be? Still crying, she opened the bottle of Jack, leaving the cookie jar askew on the counter. It didn't matter any more. She poured herself a shot, downing it in one quick gulp. She coughed, almost losing the vile liquid. She forced herself to swallow. It was almost as bad as the one time she'd swallowed for James. Jack and James, the two worst tastes in her mouth, ever. At least this time it was for her. She gagged and stumbled out to the living room. She fell back into the sofa, sinking into its depths. She put another shot to her lips, crying out as it burned down her throat. The second one was easier than the first one.



She settled back, feeling Simpson's hands on her. She shuddered, and quickly downed another. The alcohol began to fuzz her brain, and she felt good for the first time today. She heard a small whisper deep inside her head, telling her that this was how alcoholics began. She ignored the voice and it shut up. She reached forward and grabbed the remote control from the small coffee table. She switched on the television, which blared to life. James had been listening to it at high volume. As usual. He wasn't deaf, but suddenly she wished he were. She rapidly thumbed the volume down, wincing at the old episode of M*A*S*H that was playing. Hawkeye was making some crack about the Korean War. Hawkeye was missing an eye. She leaned forward, squinting. Her vision was already blurry. She never drank. And never hard stuff like Jack. She slipped off the couch and crawled across the floor, feeling the unyielding presence of the parquet beneath her knees. A post-it note was stuck to the middle of the television, blinding Hawkeye. James' handwriting. In the flickering light of the television, she tried to focus. "Not working out. Bored. Sorry. James." That bastard. She sat looking at the note for a long time, her legs curled under herself. So he was gone. Forever. Shit. It wasn't working out for him? What about her? She'd put up with *him* for the last six months. She'd had to satisfy herself for the last three, quietly in the shower or in the bathroom, afraid of disturbing him, and even before that, he wasn't any Valentino. Half the time she'd had to finish herself anyway. Shit. She didn't know whether to be angry or sad. He was gone, and she wasn't. She'd miss him, despite his faults. She balled the paper up in her small fist and tossed it over the sofa to join her pantyhose. She flicked the television off manually, and crawled back to the coffee table. Six shots, one after the other, each easier than the last. She was still gagging on them, but they definitely tasted better than James. Rat versus poison. Hell of a choice. Dizzy, she rose to her feet. The room spun around her, and she nearly fell. She couldn't think, and yet she could think too well. The touches of Simpson flowed through her mind like a bad dream. Simpson morphed with James, and back into Simpson. Alcohol couldn't compete. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (14 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


She could still feel his disgusting fingers crawling across her skin. She closed her eyes and swayed, discovering that the room spun even worse with closed eyes. She stumbled over to the stereo. She hit three buttons before the amplifier came to life, flooding her with sound. Collective Soul surrounded her and she moved without thought to the bass beat thrumming from the speakers. The neighbours might start banging on the wall, but for the first time, she didn't care. She swallowed heavily and glanced at the half full bottle of Jack still sitting on the table. Alcohol poisoning might be a good way to go. Not brave, but there was nobody who cared about her. She could at least go by her own choice, and reasonably unaware. It didn't seem quite right to her. As Collective Soul flooded her senses, she felt a deep need to remove the stink of Simpson from her. She practically ripped the blue dress from her, throwing it behind the sofa with a fluttering of cloth. But he'd barely touched the dress. She ripped the bra and panties from her body. They joined the rest of her clothing, cowering behind the small sofa. For a moment, his touches were gone, tossed aside with her clothes. She sighed, and began to move again to the music, hugging herself and feeling the driving beat. As she danced, she noticed the curtains left open. She vaguely thought that it was unusual. She was a private person. Never would she dance naked, and certainly not in front of an uncovered window. In this neighbourhood, telescopes weren't for astronomy. She always ensured the blinds were down before getting ready for her shower or for bed. But she kept dancing, the music arousing her senses, letting her forget. She slowly moved around the room, her bare feet moving her, expressing her, being her. At last, the compact disc ended, the silence descending upon her, the last haunting notes of "The World I Know" echoing through her numbed mind. She looked up at the dark ceiling, and felt the tears begin again. She hated crying. With the silence, she stretched out her arms and let the tears fall down her face. Slowly, she sank to her knees and pressed her forehead into the hard unyielding floor. She sobbed uncontrollably for a time; her cries falling from a kneeling nude woman with nothing to live for. She could see herself and her own grief, as though she stood outside herself. Slowly she rose, not quite understanding what she was doing. She



padded to the door. Turning, she examined herself in the hall mirror. The face staring back at her looked beaten and broken. Her make up was long gone with her tears, but her body was still that of a twenty-five-year-old. Breasts still high and firm, her figure was nothing to be ashamed of. And she wasn't ashamed of her body. It was her face that was older. She couldn't remember when her face had fallen into old age. She swallowed and turned the doorknob. A kindly looking coloured lady ushered her two small children back into an apartment. They'd been playing quietly in the hallway, probably more room there. At the appearance of the naked white girl, the children's eyes had gone as wide as saucers and had watched her as they were hurried inside. The apartment door closed with a finality, as though on a tomb. Janice looked back at her apartment one last time, half considering that she needed another shot of Jack. Taking a deep breath, and gathering her internal courage, she walked towards the elevators. She wasn't even aware of her nudity. She watched the small upward pointing triangle light up, as it was pressed gently by her left index finger. She could hear the elevator awaken somewhere below her. It was an odd feeling. She could sense the very vibration of the elevator through the floor and the soles of her bare feet. Her head swam, and she stumbled back until she leaned against the dirty mirrors surrounding the elevator enclave. She could see herself, nude, reflected infinitely in the opposing mirrors. She was studying the effect when the doors of the elevator rattled open with a dull thud. Without hesitation, she stepped into the small room, but felt for the first time claustrophobic. The door rattled shut behind her. She studied her face in the mirror of the elevator, trying to ignore the closed in feeling. Her face was drawn, and tired. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt rested. And where had those lines come from? At least there wasn't millions of her any longer, reflected by light bounced into infinity. She turned and jabbed at the highest button on the panel. The lift responded mindlessly and carried the nude girl up. She was watching as the numbers increased, skipping thirteen. Didn't the people on fourteen realise that they were truly on the thirteenth floor? She smiled humourlessly. Even elevators lie. The doors rattled open for her, and she stepped out unsteadily. The http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Precious.html (16 of 21)8/15/2005 12:08:57 AM


hallway was darker, but better carpeted than her own. She could feel the softer fibres beneath her feet. The elevator doors closed, and she turned, half expecting her hand to press the down button of its own volition. Her hand remained resolutely at her side. With a sense of purpose, she strode down the hallway, wondering if anyone was peering out at her from behind the closed doors. The doors on this level had peepholes, unlike the lower floors. Her bare feet felt strange against the carpet. She felt a tingling through them, almost a sense of nervousness, a sense of events beyond her control. She pulled open the firedoor at the end of the hallway and stepped out onto the cool concrete of the fire stairs. Her raspy breathing echoed through the stairwell, as though she'd invaded a museum. The stairway morphed briefly into the subway; it smelled damp, and dark, and vaguely of mildew. The short flight of steps extended up in front of her. They reminded her of the wooden path to the gallows in all the western movies that she used to watch on Sunday afternoons in college. Willing herself forward, she walked slowly up towards the closed green door. "No Admittance." The door spoke to her. She swallowed heavily and reached for the knob, ignoring the harsh voice of the door. Like everything else in this damn building, the lock was long since broken. Probably some overactive teenagers, drinking on the roof, had broken it long ago. The door looked like it was never used any longer, even by the teenagers. She pulled open the door. A warm blast of summer air buffeted her bare skin as she stepped through the opening. The door slammed shut behind her. Anyone on the staircase would have been deafened by the echoes. But she had been alone on the stairs. Nobody used the stairs. Not in this building. It wasn't a smart thing to do. She knelt down on the gravel of the roof, feeling the uneven stones pressing painfully into her knees. Her head was still swimming. She spoke to her God, praying silently for a few minutes, desperately wanting forgiveness. Getting no answer, she rose staring at the lights of the city around her.



She walked carefully to the low brick wall that surrounded the top of the building. Her ankle still throbbed gently, and she winced as the gravel thundered into the bottom of her feet. So I walked up on high And I step to the edge To see my world below. And I laugh at myself As the tears roll down. 'Cause it's the world I know. It's the world I know. She easily leaned for some time against the top of the wall, her tears falling freely. She smelled the air, it was somehow cleaner up here beyond the smog and bustle of the streets below. The wind and her soft crying were the only sounds reaching up this high. She cherished the rough warmth of the bricks against her palms and her tummy, as she leaned over the edge looking down. The people scurried back and forth like insects. The cars, looking like toys, flowed like rivers across the streets, the headlights blurred in her vision. The world below. She thought back, still feeling Simpson's hands and teeth on her breasts. She touched her nipples, one after the other. These nipples. Her nipples. She shivered, feeling alone and lost. The alcohol was beginning to work its way through her system. She felt light-headed, but she was thinking clearly, at least she thought she was. She knew she couldn't reach the world below. Not and survive. With a sigh, she straightened. She looked up to the heavens, again praying quietly for forgiveness. She felt a sense of calm as she extended her arms towards the sky as if in supplication. She stepped up. The cool brick felt rough beneath her feet, her bare toes unconsciously gripping the solidity of the stone. She glanced down at the lights so far below, which looked like streaks of red and white, like a time-lapse of a city. Another tear traced down her cheek, blurring her vision.



She couldn't hear the sirens, but the flashing of lights so far below was visible. The flashing lights added to the streaking of her time-lapse. She was vaguely aware of a human presence behind her, for some reason afraid to come closer. She could hear a deep, comforting male voice, somewhere close, but she couldn't understand. She didn't want to. She wanted to be alone. Her fingers reached for the stars as she stood there. The wind felt cool and comforting against her bare skin as she swayed gently. Her lips were slightly parted; she could taste the saltiness of her own tears. She didn't even know the woman's name from the subway, but her face came clearly and unbidden - unnatural clarity even through the blurriness of Janice's tears. The woman's gentle and kind smile comforted - giving her a sense unlike any she had received since she was the yellow dressed little girl in a park distanced by time. The woman's face was a shining lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Janice's numb mind reeled. It didn't matter. One life for another. She would be replaced; the woman's child perhaps named Janice. The clear and glowing expectant mother's face fell, looking abruptly away. It didn't need to be this way. "Don't do anything stupid. It's too precious," the woman spoke softly, her voice echoing through memory. She brushed her brunette hair gently from her face with her fingers. Janice could still feel James' absence, and Simpson's hands crawling like eels over her skin. She cringed inwardly. She still had the business card; she'd tossed it on the coffee table as she'd entered her empty apartment. It was there beside the half-empty bottle of Jack. She never had loved James. Her head felt like a heavy weight on her neck. The world spun for her as she turned slowly on the wall, her bare toes carefully searching for safe purchase. Janice closed her eyes, her tears spilling faster, wracking her bare body with sobs. Slowly, she turned one last time, facing the men in heavy firefighter's uniforms, watching her. One was trying to talk to her, but she couldn't hear through the rushing of her blood in her ears. All she had to do was lean back. Just - one - small - bit. She didn't even have to look down. She hiccuped, and began to lower herself carefully to the solidity of the brick beneath her.



She whispered, "Thank-you, whoever you are." But she knew who the pregnant woman was - her guardian angel - a guiding light in her darkness. The clear image of the pregnant woman smiled her glowing radiance and slowly faded. All that was left was a dingy rooftop, smeared with splashes of yellow uniforms. As she sat down, feeling the rough brick beneath her bare bottom, she took a deep breath. Her feet didn't quite make it to the harsh gravel, though she could feel the heat emanating from the stones as she idly swung her legs, hands clasped in her lap. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders by an anonymous saviour. Clutching her meagre covering, she bent her head and cried. After a while, Janice looked up, trying to clear the tears obscuring her vision. The anonymous man in yellow was talking to her gently, his voice soothing but still too soft to be heard over the roar of her blood. "I ... have to make a phone call," Janice whispered to her saviour. She lowered her head and pulled the blanket around her again tightly. Across the city, a glowing woman touched her swollen tummy, felt the initial light pressures of the first contractions, took a deep breath of relief, and smiled.




Trouble In Paradise - Crimson Dragon

Trouble In Paradise © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== Trouble in Paradise (FF, cons, vacation, exh, light/first spank) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - July 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Elizabeth stretched as she swung her long legs out of the queen-sized bed. Yawning, she rose and padded barefoot to the large tinted window overlooking the pool. It was early, but there was already a multitude of people lying in the white chairs, catching the early sun before it became unbearable. She watched as couples strolled towards the buffet restaurant, some hand in hand, others still sleepy and shuffling along. One woman jogged easily back to the resort from the beach. One younger couple stood out as they walked towards the far side of the pool. The woman still had confetti peppering her dark hair. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Probably married last night. Elizabeth's heart ached a little at the thought. Marriage. Probably forever denied to her. Who would give her away? She watched as a pair of women followed the newlyweds. One walked more confidently, her bare feet padding along the cement by the pool. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (1 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


The confident one sported blonde hair, contrasting against her friend's brunette. The smaller girl looked a little more nervous, her step betraying a discomfort, the cause of which wasn't obvious. The brunette wore a dark blue bikini and running shoes with red laces. Elizabeth cracked a smile as the blonde touched the brunette's hand. The touch lingered a little longer than Elizabeth had expected, but it was hard to tell from the second floor window. She cracked open the window, sliding it as quietly as she could. It rolled smoothly to the left until there was an opening wide enough to see clearly through. The sky was the colour of cobalt, clear and unmarred by clouds. Soft mist floated around the tops of the surrounding hills, catching the morning sunlight. The sun was already warming the tropical air. Soft voices floated up to the second floor from the pool. There was the faint clatter of dishes from the buffet restaurant, mixed with the far off sounds of the crashing surf. The humid, salty air wafted through the opened window, and Elizabeth breathed in deeply through her nose, sensing the peace and tranquillity. Elizabeth yawned again and ran her fingers through her long, tangled red hair. She sighed gently and softly shut and locked the window. Turning, she settled herself backward into one of the hotel chairs. Her chin rested on her hands, which in turn rested on the high backrest. She relaxed. Her white nightgown flowed around her as she sat, finally settling like a cloak around her body. Elizabeth smiled gently as she gazed at the other occupant of the room, still peaceful in slumber. Dawn's blonde hair fanned out across her pillow as she slept on her back, the thin sheet rising and falling gently with her regular breathing. Elizabeth remained silent, happy to watch the girl she loved sleep. She would never tire of it. She had once stayed up all night watching Dawn sleep, just because she wanted to. She felt protective of the girl, and the simple trust that they shared flowed through her whenever Dawn seemed so vulnerable. Elizabeth's heart began to beat a little faster as she watched Dawn sleep beneath the covers. She forced herself to temper her desires. Dawn deserved her rest, and wandering back to bed and stroking that wonderful soft blonde hair would surely wake her. Dawn would awaken soon enough. It was early yet, and she had been exhausted from the previous day's travels. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (2 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


After a while, Dawn murmured in her sleep and turned over. Her hand gently searched for the warm body that should have been beside her. A look of confusion crossed her sleepy features when all she touched were cool, empty, and ruffled sheets. Dawn's blue eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled sharply. She sat up slowly, her eyes adjusting to the strong sunlight streaming through the tinted glass. She smiled as she spotted Elizabeth watching her. The sheets fell from her as she raised herself with her hands. The thin T-shirt Dawn had slept in did little to hide her figure. She rubbed at her eyes. "Good morning, sleepy head," Elizabeth greeted her roommate from her chair. Dawn feigned an accusing tone. "You watching me sleep again?" "Would you have it any other way?" Dawn smiled in response and pushed the covers off her legs, rolling towards the side of the bed. She stretched as she rose to her bare feet. The shirt she wore had belonged to a past lover; it was far too long, and fell easily below her hips, though the hem rose tantalisingly as she reached for the ceiling. She yawned and walked over to Elizabeth's chair. Elizabeth watched her movements without stirring, her face resting sideways on her hands. Dawn bent and kissed Elizabeth's cheek. "I'm sorry about last night," Dawn whispered. "Nothing to worry about." Elizabeth shook out her hair as she spoke. They had not made love last night. They had arrived late, and they had both been exhausted from the long day of travel. Planes, cars, and long check-in lines. They had unpacked, changed into sleepwear, and tumbled into bed; neither one initiating any contact. Elizabeth assumed that Dawn had fallen asleep as quickly as she had, sex the furthest thing from her mind. Dawn's finger traced Elizabeth's jawline carefully and sensually. "I can make it up to you if you want?" Elizabeth smiled up at Dawn. "No need. Lots of time for that. A whole week in Paradise." As she spoke, she pointed out the window at the

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (3 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


view. She immediately regretted refusing Dawn's advance. Dawn sighed and straightened, disappointment briefly crossed her features, but she managed to smile. She glanced out the window, a slow whistle of appreciation slipping through her lips. They were finally in paradise. The blonde girl casually stripped off the T-shirt as she walked towards the bathroom, dropping it in the middle of the suite. Elizabeth watched, still not believing that she was here with this beautiful creature. The girl pranced naked to the bathroom. Elizabeth shook her head as she heard the splashing and the soft singing from the shower. Then she gazed out the window at the perfect day. *** Elizabeth finally untangled her hair, and cleansed the dirty feeling from the previous day's travels from her skin. She wrapped herself in hotel towels and wandered out to find Dawn watching some old movie on the television. The reception was terrible, but she recognised Matthew Broderick driving a red Ferrari through the static. Elizabeth still felt a little uncomfortable with her recent changes in sexual orientation. A year ago, she couldn't have imagined being here with someone like Dawn. Could not have imagined dropping these towels in her presence and changing into a bikini. She fished a green swimsuit from the bedside drawer and turned her back to slip it on. When she turned back around, Dawn seemed far more interested in her than Ferris Beuller and his day off. "Still not used to it, are you?" Dawn asked with a sparkle in her eye, referring to Elizabeth's shyness. Elizabeth answered with a slight nod and a blush. Dawn was already draped in a yellow bikini and a light wrap. Easy for her to say; she had had privacy to change. Of course, she had stripped before going to shower. Elizabeth had not felt comfortable doing the same. She was being silly; they had made love many times together, completely naked. Changing in front of another girl was still different somehow. It was hard on her. She hadn't been brought up with this freedom. Dawn rose to her bare feet, her body achingly desirable in the form fitting suit. Elizabeth hoped silently that her green bikini looked half as good as Dawn's at the beach.



"Come on, breakfast is only served until 10:30." Elizabeth grabbed her beachbag and held hands with Dawn until they reached the elevator. An elderly couple stared at them as the elevator doors rattled open. Elizabeth scrambled to release Dawn's hand. Dawn wore a cute smile as they entered the elevator for the single floor trip to the lobby. *** The sun was scorching hot by late morning. Elizabeth could feel the sweat dripping down between her breasts as she lay lathered in sunscreen. She knew that her pale skin would burn in seconds so she had been careful with protection from the sun, secretly enjoying Dawn's fingers rubbing the coconut oil into her. Her eyes, hidden beneath her dark sunglasses, kept straying to Dawn. Dawn was a lot braver than her and she simply couldn't keep her eyes off her. She'd re-read the same passage in her book ten times, and she still couldn't believe that Dawn had done it. As they'd arrived at the beach, Dawn had made quick friends with the women that Elizabeth had seen earlier through the window - the self assured blonde and nervous brunette. The blonde had changed into a red bikini since breakfast. Her name was Sara, the brunette was Rachel. Dawn, being more outgoing, had nudged Elizabeth and pointed casually over to them as they had approached the beach. The girl named Sara was sunning herself on a lounge chair, topless. It wasn't unusual, and nobody was really taking notice, but it seemed so ... exhibitionistic. Sara was nice looking, Elizabeth thought with a sense of surprise as Dawn dragged her across the beach. Normally, she didn't really notice women, except for Dawn. Dawn easily talked to the two girls. Dawn was like that, outgoing and friendly. She could just walk up to strangers and talk to them. Elizabeth never had found socialising easy. It turned out that the other girls were leaving tomorrow, their tans attesting to the effects of a week in the strong sun. Rachel seemed almost as uncomfortable about her topless friend as Elizabeth felt during the short exchange. Both were quiet as Sara and Dawn made small talk. Dawn finally rose with a small laugh, wished the girls good travel and found a more secluded part of the beach. Elizabeth tagged along, content to let Dawn settle wherever she wanted.



After they were settled, Elizabeth watched in horror as Dawn smiled and released her top, her slender fingers pulling at the knots of her bikini straps. "Try it, you scaredy cat," she goaded Elizabeth gently. "No tan lines. Nobody is looking." Dawn lay back and closed her eyes, oblivious to her exposure. Elizabeth mumbled something about liking tan lines and relaxed as best she could. Her eyes kept wandering to the girl next to her, and her state of undress. She could feel the heat of the day, and it wasn't only the sun. She tried to read the passage in her book again. *** Dawn rose, and swiftly padded down to the water's edge, dancing with the heat of the fine sand. The surf rolled over her toes as she stepped into the cool ocean water. Elizabeth hesitantly joined her, not quite believing that Dawn was still topless, her yellow bikini top draped over the back of her lounge. Dawn's bare breasts were breathtaking in the sun. She imagined that all the guys, and maybe even some of the other women, were watching them. A flash of jealousy sneaked through her defences, but she managed to will it away from her. Dawn seemed unconcerned. "How can you do that?" Elizabeth whispered to Dawn as the girls wet their feet. "Do what?" Elizabeth pointed, making sure people didn't notice. Dawn gave one of her musical laughs. "You still on about that?" she asked playfully. "I'm comfortable. If men can do it, so can I." Elizabeth swallowed. She had to admit, nobody but her really seemed to be taking interest in Dawn's bared breasts, and she was getting used to seeing her friend without her top in public. It wasn't as though she was the only one on the beach going topless. It was a scorcher today. Elizabeth wished that either everyone on the beach would disappear, or that she was brave enough to do it too. But she wasn't brave enough, and probably never would be. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (6 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


They wet themselves in the cooler ocean up to their thighs and then climbed out. Dawn smiled mischievously. "I want to go back to the room," she spoke huskily as they returned to their chairs. There was little doubt what she had in mind, at least not to Elizabeth. A lunchtime tumble wouldn't be entirely unwelcome. Elizabeth flushed a little, but nodded gently. The girls rose to their feet, carrying their sandals. They waved at Sara and Rachel as they passed and headed back to the resort. To Elizabeth's relief, Dawn casually replaced her top as they walked along the road on their way back. *** As Elizabeth fished the room key out of her beachbag, Dawn stepped in close. Glancing down the empty hallway, she carefully brushed her breasts against Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth smiled, glanced down the hallway herself, and braved a quick kiss. She felt Dawn's cool lips sending sparks down her body. She shivered and turned the doorknob. Dawn gasped as they entered the room. Elizabeth looked up from replacing the room key and shutting the door. Dawn was standing still as a statue, trembling. "Oh ... my ... God," Elizabeth whispered. The room was in shambles. Drawers were pulled out. The bed was messed up. Their suitcases were opened and the contents strewn across the floor. Their purses had been dumped on the desk. Every item not bolted down in the room had been moved or opened. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth stepped into the bathroom. All their toiletries had been opened, or moved. Fighting off the sickening knot settling into her stomach, she opened the bathroom closet. The safety deposit box hidden within was still closed. Thank God. She quickly fished out the key and checked the contents of the box. Everything



still there. Cash, passports, traveller's cheques. Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief. When Elizabeth emerged from the bathroom, Dawn was beside the bed. She was still trembling, and she was checking her bedside stand, standing amongst her panties tossed casually to the floor. Dawn was slowly picking up the bits of cloth, one by one, as if in a daze. "Elizabeth?" Dawn's voice had taken on a definite frightened tone. Elizabeth moved quickly to her side and gathered her into her arms. They held one another for a few minutes. "Why?" Dawn whispered. "It's our first day." Elizabeth stroked her hair gently. "Calm, Dawn. I'm going to call security." She tried her best to cut the waver from her voice. She felt Dawn nod, and she released the trembling girl. God. Someone had gone through all their stuff. She felt violated. She felt vulnerable. She felt frightened. And she felt damn angry. She picked up the room phone, stabbing at the "0". The front desk picked up in their usual lilting Spanish. "I ... I need hotel security. Um. Our room has been broken into." There was a pause. "2003". She managed to keep the tremors from her voice somehow. Dawn wandered the room in a daze, picking up clothing and personal items, and staring at them. Elizabeth took a deep breath, calming her breathing. "Dawn? Honey? Are you okay?" "It's ruined," Dawn's voice was small and defenceless, like a little girl's. Elizabeth wandered over to Dawn, pulling her into an embrace again. "What's ruined?" "This. Our trip. Why would someone do this?" Elizabeth sighed. "I don't know, honey. I don't know. They probably http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (8 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


don't know how much it hurts. What this feels like. Or they just don't give a damn. Bastards." "I'm scared." "I know, honey. I know. So am I." "They took our keys," Dawn spoke miserably. "And the camera. Why would they want the car keys? How are we going to get home?" "We can replace those. I've got an extra set in the safety box. Come on. Don't cry." Elizabeth stroked Dawn's head soothing her. "And my credit cards." "They aren't in the safety box?" "No. I'm sorry," Dawn sounded more miserable yet. "I never put them in. It was our first day. And last night was so late." "Mine were there. We'll use mine. It's okay. We'll cancel your cards," Elizabeth tried to speak reassuringly. Dawn began to cry quietly. They stood in a daze looking around the wrecked room. Elizabeth felt like crying as well, but she couldn't. One of them had to stay in control. Dawn might be able to flaunt herself on the beach, but she wasn't able to deal with this. She was damn near hysterical. Elizabeth couldn't blame her, but she couldn't deal with the crisis and Dawn's hysteria at the same time. Where the hell was security? There was a light knock on the door. Elizabeth rushed to answer it, after lowering Dawn gently to the sofa. A big burly man in a white security uniform spoke to her in Spanish. "I... I don't understand Spanish," her voice trembled a little at the admission. Dawn spoke a little Spanish, but she wasn't in any shape to be talking to the security guard. He nodded, seeming to understand the language problem. He indicated with his hands that he wanted to come in. She stepped aside and let him in. He glanced around the room with wide eyes.



"When?" he spoke gruffly with a thick accent. "Just now," Elizabeth replied slowly. "You. Here?" His English was broken at best, but he was trying at least. Elizabeth shook her head. The big man sighed and stepped to the windows. He rattled the one that Elizabeth had opened in the morning. Then he moved to the one over the sofa. He gently nudged Dawn, who, still crying, scooted over a little to give the man room. The window opened easily. It was obvious how the thief had gained access to the room. Elizabeth hadn't touched that window and she was pretty sure that Dawn hadn't either, so it had been unlocked from the outside, or it hadn't been locked when they arrived. There was a flower garden beneath the window, she remembered. The bastard had gotten up on that and climbed through in broad daylight in front of a crowd of people at the pool below. "Police?" Dawn's voice broke the silence. Elizabeth turned to look at her lover, surprised that she had spoken at all. The big man looked at Dawn blankly. "We. Need. The. Police," Dawn spoke slowly and carefully. Her eyes were still full of tears. The big man shrugged. Before Elizabeth could cross the room to stop her, Dawn was blazing at the security guard. "Jesus Christ. We need the police here. Now. We've been robbed." Tears were rolling down her cheeks in unheeded rivulets. "Jesus, why can't they send someone who speaks English. God. We've been robbed for Christ sakes." She had risen off the sofa and was advancing on the security guard as she shook and cried, her small fists balled up at her hips. The man was looking mystified, and stepped back a little at her sudden anger. Some language was universal. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (10 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


Elizabeth ran in front of the girl. Dawn had slipped fully into hysteria. Elizabeth had never seen Dawn like this. She understood, but attacking a security guard wasn't going to help. "Dawn. Go easy on him. He's here to help," Elizabeth tried to speak gently. "Well, he's not much of a fucking help, is he?" Dawn cried out at Elizabeth. Elizabeth cringed at the words. She couldn't recall if she'd ever heard Dawn cursing before. And Dawn had never raised her voice at her. Not even when Elizabeth had frustrated her, which she did more often that she cared to think about. Elizabeth reached out to touch Dawn's shoulder, but the girl slapped away her fingers. They stung, but not as much as it hurt to be hit by her lover. Without thinking, she reached out with her other hand and slapped Dawn across the face. Dawn's eyes widened at the impact, and her face flipped to the side. Tears began to fall faster and harder as she fell into uncontrollable sobbing. Elizabeth managed to catch her and hug her fiercely. Her palm stung where she'd slapped Dawn. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she whispered to Dawn. She couldn't believe she'd done that. Couldn't believe that she hadn't been able to control the girl without resorting to a slap. They were both under pressure. But that didn't excuse her. She held Dawn for a minute and then lowered her back to the couch. Dawn sank into it, holding her cheek and quietly weeping. Elizabeth kissed her gently on the forehead and apologised again. She turned to the security guard, who was looking on in confusion. Slowly, trying to ignore Dawn's crying, she managed to get someone who spoke more English. The credit cards were cancelled after some explanations and some creative phone usage. The hotel manager arrived with the promise of a maid to clean the mess, and an apology. They never had called the police. Not that the police could have helped. They probably spoke as much English as the security guard. Dawn could speak some Spanish, but she was in no condition to help, or even remember she could speak some. The intruders finally left the room,



the door closing as though on a tomb. Elizabeth sank to the messed up bed amongst her own panties and bras. She stared up at the ceiling, completely drained. It couldn't get any worse than this, at least. She fought off her own tears in the suddenly quiet room. After a few minutes, Elizabeth rose and dropped herself onto the couch with Dawn. She held Dawn for a while, until Dawn managed to cry herself out. For a moment, Elizabeth thought that Dawn had cried herself to sleep, but then the girl in her arms spoke quietly. "Is everything alright?" she asked haltingly. "Yes. Credit cards are cancelled. You won't get new ones for a couple of weeks. The camera is gone, and the idiot took our tampons. Could have been worse." "I'm sorry I fell apart." Elizabeth stroked Dawn's hair gently. "Don't worry about it," Elizabeth spoke as gently as she could. Dawn sniffled and rocked herself a little. "I want to stay in here all week, but we can't have a vacation like this," Elizabeth spoke quietly. "We have to try and forget this. All right? The week can only go up from here." She forced herself to smile. "I ... I suppose," Dawn glanced up with her teary blue eyes. "Go wash your face and change. We'll grab some dinner," Elizabeth suggested. The day had flown by. It had taken all afternoon to clean up the details, cancel credit cards, and make out reports. The sun was sitting low on the horizon throwing deep orange rays around the disordered room. The maids hadn't arrived yet. The girls had missed lunch completely in the confusion. Elizabeth ached emotionally and physically from it all. Dawn brightened a bit with the mention of food and slowly rose from Elizabeth's lap.



"It's going to be alright, isn't it?" Dawn asked quietly. "Yeah," Elizabeth answered. She hoped so. Dawn walked slowly to the bathroom to wash, trying not to see her clothing still strewn about the room. When she re-emerged, her face was glowing, though her eyes weren't. *** The dinner was excellent. The resort hosted a wonderful Italian restaurant with the unlikely name of "Hugo's." They were served fresh pasta, cheese and bread. Maybe Elizabeth was simply hungry, but the food had been wonderful. She could still taste the garlic from the noodles. Dawn had brightened considerably as soon as Elizabeth had led her into the dim candlelit restaurant. Elizabeth had been careful to hold Dawn's hand over the table, keeping a sharp eye open for the waiter. They had ordered wine and a wonderful meal of seafood pasta. Elizabeth smilingly allowed Dawn to feed her, loving her more as she did, suddenly not caring what the other patrons thought of them. As it happened, nobody paid the girls the slightest attention. A combination of atmosphere and the dry white wine brought a soft flush to their faces. Elizabeth could see the redness in Dawn's cheeks, and could hear her own voice becoming lighter and more giggly. They rarely drank much, but tonight, it seemed somehow appropriate. Elizabeth could feel her thoughts slowing to a more relaxed pace, which was exactly what she wanted. "Behave," Elizabeth whispered urgently as the waiter approached. The soft bare toes left her calf, and Dawn smirked playfully. The dessert menu was decadent, and they both ordered the same after-dinner treat. Their conversation had been slow. They hadn't needed to talk. It hadn't been awkward, it seemed enough to simply enjoy one another's company and try to forget the awful afternoon. The soft touches of Dawn's fingers and toes made up for any lack in conversation. Laughing gently, they fed each other the mango ice cream that had come for dessert. The taste and coolness of Dawn's ice cream felt pleasing against Elizabeth's lips. Dawn playfully licked mango flavouring off her own lips. They listened to the soft Caribbean music from the lounge for a while, then together rose to their feet.



Linking fingers, they walked out of the dim restaurant. Darkness was gathering as they stepped out into the humid air. The heat of the day had diminished, but still felt oppressive after the coolness of Hugo's. The low thump of the disco rocked the night air, as Elizabeth reached again for Dawn's hand. With a light squeeze of their fingers, the girls walked through the gathering evening towards the beach. The moon lit their way as the crickets serenaded them with their shrill night song. *** The beach was deserted. All the people from the daytime were probably eating dinner. The beach bar was locked up, and the beach chairs stretched down the beach like a motionless line of soldiers. The surf had steadily become louder as they approached over the lagoon bridge. The sand was still warm beneath Elizabeth's toes. The girls had slipped off their sandals as they touched the sand, and were carrying them as they approached the water's edge. Dawn pointed. There was a couple playing in the pounding surf. It was hard to tell, but by the playful screams, it sounded like they were both girls and they were having fun. The darkness provided only silhouettes of the laughing, screeching participants. Dawn touched Elizabeth's hand, and guided her down to the far end of the beach, out of sight and out of listening distance from the other couple. They settled into the sand together near the water. Elizabeth picked up some of the fine sand in her hand and let it fall between her long fingers. They held hands and stared out over the surf. The water had a soft luminance from the moon and millions of tiny night creatures. "It's nice here," Dawn whispered. "Just the two of us," Elizabeth agreed. "You know, I never thought that I would ever be doing this." "What? Taking a vacation? Or taking one with me? Or taking a vacation in this particular spot with me?" Dawn smiled mischievously as she spoke.



Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Taking a vacation with another girl," she spoke quietly. "As lovers." "Do you love me?" Dawn asked just loud enough to be heard over the surf. Elizabeth nodded, having trouble keeping eye contact. "I love you too, sweety. There's nothing wrong with this." Dawn traced her finger gently down Elizabeth's breast beneath her dress as she spoke. "I know, and I love it here. I ... I guess I'm just not used to it. Yet." Dawn leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I know. And I'm happy you agreed to come. I wouldn't have if you didn't. Couldn't stay away from you." Elizabeth swallowed heavily. "My father..." she began. "Shhhh. I know. Sometimes they don't understand." Dawn touched Elizabeth's lips with her finger. "It hurts," Elizabeth could feel the tears stinging behind her eyes. Slowly, Dawn gathered Elizabeth into her arms. She wasn't crying, which was new. Elizabeth normally cried whenever her father was mentioned. They hugged for a moment before Dawn changed the subject. "I'm so sorry, for this afternoon. I ... I shouldn't have gone nuts on you," Dawn spoke quietly through the surf. "You did a wonderful job without me." "No. You were fine. I can't believe I hit you. I'm the one that ought to be apologising," Elizabeth again swallowed heavily. She couldn't believe she'd done it. Even now. "I should be apologising for the rest of my life for that." Dawn was silent for a moment. She released Elizabeth and rose to her knees. Elizabeth could see her struggling with something in the moonlight. "Beth?" Dawn never used the short form of her name unless it was



serious. Elizabeth closed her eyes, expecting a lecture on using her hands. She was dreadfully sorry, but she couldn't blame Dawn for being upset about getting slapped. It hurts more when it's one you love. Elizabeth knew all about that. Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ready to apologise forever if that was what it took. "Beth, look at me," Dawn spoke gently. Elizabeth forced herself to look up at her lover. She was fighting back tears, both from the long hard day and the fact that she had so disappointed her best friend. When their eyes locked, there was no accusation in Dawn's eyes. Only a hint of nervousness burned behind the dazzling blue eyes. She whispered, her voice nearly melding with the pounding of the surf. "Would you do it again?" Dawn asked quietly. "What? Slap you? Never! I swear it. No matter what you do, I'll find some other way. I'm really am sorry," Elizabeth spoke hurriedly, not knowing what else to say, but desperately wanting forgiveness. Dawn was silent for a moment, indecision plastered across her strong features. She took a deep breath. "Beth, I meant, if I wanted you to slap me, would you?" Elizabeth was completely confused. She sat there in the sand, her dress fluttering in the wind, and tried to make sense of what Dawn had said. She opted for the intelligent approach. "Huh?" Dawn took another deep breath and sighed into the humid air. "Elizabeth, honey. What if I didn't mind the slap? What if I was the sort of person that ... that ... maybe liked it a bit." Elizabeth was silent, not sure where this was going. She was confused and afraid of saying anything. She stared out into the surf with the millions of tiny glowing sea creatures.



After a moment of waiting, Dawn quivered on her knees and leaned forward. She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth's neck and kissed her full on the lips. The kiss sent shivers down Elizabeth's spine, and she kissed back, feeling her heat rising. Dawn broke the kiss and whispered in her ear. Dawn's hot breath against her ear intensified the tingles so much that she barely heard the words. "Beth, sweety. Never mind. I ... forgive you. Don't worry about slapping me. It's forgotten. No marks and I survived." Dawn pulled Elizabeth down to the sand and they kissed passionately for what seemed like forever. Elizabeth felt the soft caresses on her skin through her dress as Dawn's fingers touched her and Dawn's pliable lips kissed her. She felt her own fingers lightly stroking Dawn, her hair, her bare thighs, her breasts through the T-shirt she wore. Their bare toes caressed lower legs and feet. Small firecrackers were going off inside Elizabeth with the gentle caresses and the soft kiss. Breathing hard, the girls finally rose to their feet, Dawn helping Elizabeth to hers. Dawn arranged her top and they slowly walked back along the beach towards their room. They had no idea what time it was, nor did they care. The other girls were gone from the surf, though Elizabeth thought she heard a soft cry in a tiny lull of the pounding surf. They held hands all the way back. *** Dawn was nearly out of her T-shirt in the elevator. They had kissed again gently during the short ride up. Elizabeth's fingers had reached under the fabric, touching and stroking the bottom of Dawn's breasts as they had kissed. Elizabeth was breathing erratically, as Dawn's fingers stroked gently at her thigh through the dress. Dawn had begun to lift her top to let Elizabeth get better access, but Elizabeth managed to stop her before she completed the manoeuvre. Only a quick flash of pale skin and one small nipple. The kiss broke as the elevator door rattled open, to reveal the newlywed couple holding hands. The young bride had combed the confetti out of her hair. Elizabeth and Dawn exchanged quick



greetings, hoping that Elizabeth had managed to get her hand out in time, and that they didn't look too aroused. Elizabeth certainly felt flushed. They giggled and ran most of the way to their room. This time, the room was pristine. All their clothes were put away, the bed was made, and their suitcases organised. Elizabeth hadn't realised she was holding her breath until she let it out after it became obvious that the room hadn't been vandalised again. She walked quickly to the windows and checked the locks. Same with the entrance door. They were secure. She carefully unlocked and opened one of the windows, letting the sea breeze into the stuffy room. It would negate the effects of the air conditioning, but she didn't care. Humid warm air entered the room, carrying the cries of disco patrons, the bass beat of the far off music, and the sounds of the night crickets. She turned from the window to find Dawn wearing her smile, and not much else. Her top was by the door, and her shorts were tossed casually over the desk chair. She'd kicked her sandals under the table, and was standing there flushed, hands on her hips, looking far too desirable. Elizabeth wondered idly where Dawn's panties were, but she was fairly certain she knew where they hadn't been in the first place. Dawn was always surprising her with that. Dawn walked slowly to the bed, lowering herself down, and curling her legs up. Elizabeth stared in awe at the naked girl. She'd never get tired of watching her. Not as long as she lived. Dawn beckoned with a mischievous smile. Elizabeth approached on wobbly legs. Her desire was flooding through her senses, and she felt dizzy, the night sounds of paradise contributing to the surreal effect. She wanted to touch, and be touched. She wanted to lose herself in Dawn. She crawled up onto the bed, offering her mouth to Dawn. The blonde girl kissed her playfully and then pulled away. Elizabeth cried out quietly in frustration. "If you don't want to, say so. I ... can't stand this much longer." Elizabeth could feel the insistent throbbing between her legs. She'd finish herself if need be, but she'd prefer the glorious naked creature curled up in front of her. "I want to, Elizabeth. More than anything in the world, no matter http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (18 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


what," Dawn whispered. Elizabeth shook her head in confusion, not quite sure what Dawn was on about. She rocked forward, still on her hands and knees, and tried to kiss Dawn again. Dawn shied away, regret filling her features. "Please? Don't tease me?" Elizabeth whispered. "I'm not, sweety. Hold on, for a moment, okay?" Dawn had never done this before. She seemed uncertain. Dawn had always been the certain one about this relationship. Elizabeth was confused and concerned by Dawn's sudden behaviour changes. She hoped that it wasn't residual from this afternoon's stresses. Elizabeth knelt back on the bed and looked over at Dawn. She spoke quietly, "Dawn, honey. What's the matter? Try to forget about the robbery. It's over. I'm here." Dawn smiled gently. "It's not that, Elizabeth. Well, not entirely. And I promise we'll make love tonight. I want to." Elizabeth sighed. Dawn would explain herself when she was ready. But she didn't want to wait. She ached with her desire for the girl. Dawn finally spoke quietly and carefully. She wasn't looking at Elizabeth. "Beth, sweety. You know what we were talking about at the beach?" "Um. Sex?" "Kind of. I ... oh God ... I told you that I didn't mind being slapped?" Elizabeth took a deep breath. She didn't even like thinking about slapping Dawn. "Dawn, I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't. I'm sorry. Please don't let it ruin this. I thought this was over with. I'm so sorry. I'll apologise forever if that is what you want. I just want you, now. Please?" Dawn shivered and finally turned her blue eyes to lock onto



Elizabeth's hazel irises. "I know you didn't mean it. And I ... God. I don't want you to think I'm out of my tree. I'm scared. I don't want to frighten you, but I want to share this with you. And I don't want you to leave me." "This is about sex?" Elizabeth was finally beginning to see why Dawn was being elusive. Dawn nodded, her eyes beginning to tear up a little. No tears escaped, though. "Dawn, you know you can talk to me about sex," Elizabeth tried to be reassuring. The damn throbbing between her legs wouldn't stop. "But. You still aren't used to this," Dawn reached out with her finger and lightly traced the curve of Elizabeth's breast beneath her dress, making the red-haired girl shiver. "Even now, I'm the only one naked here." Elizabeth took a deep breath. Dawn had every right to be nervous about talking to her about sex, considering. She gathered her internal resources, consciously dropped her defences, and purposefully pulled the dress over her head, dropping it beside the bed. She knelt back easily in her bra and panties. "Dawn, baby, I'm getting used to this. I don't want you to be afraid of talking to me, though. I've lost enough relationships because of that," she spoke earnestly. And every one of them had been her lack of communication, she thought bitterly. Dawn took a deep breath and held it. She spoke as she let it out. "I ... I liked the slap. Sexually," Dawn spoke with a flush rising to her face. "What?" Elizabeth paused and registered the look of dismay crossing Dawn's pretty face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be that way. I just don't understand. You liked being slapped?" Dawn swallowed and spoke gently. "Beth, if you don't want to do this, or feel uncomfortable with it, I don't mind. I'll understand. I like what we have. It's just that ... I sometimes fantasise about ... being spanked. I don't understand it. It's not like I was spanked as a child. Hell, my parents are great. They never lifted a finger to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (20 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


me, at least that I can remember. My father even accepts me the way I am, now, with you. Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean ..." "It's all right," Elizabeth spoke quietly. Her face had fallen at the mention of family, but she was slowly getting used to the fact that she couldn't bring Dawn home for dinner. It hurt, especially since Dawn's parents liked her, but she had to accept it. Dawn did. The girls looked at one another for a long time. Dawn broke the silence. "You ... you never told me what you thought. You know..." she began awkwardly. Elizabeth licked her lips. "Dawn? Are you serious? You want me to hit you?" Dawn leaned back on her hands. "I ... I don't know. I don't want it if you are uncomfortable with it. That's for sure." Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "And I don't want it all the time, exactly. And I don't want it hard. At least I don't think so." "I'm not sure I can hurt you," Elizabeth felt a strange sensation flow through her senses at the words. "How about just starting lightly? If you want to at all. Seriously. I'm happy the way we are. I don't need this. It can stay in my fantasy life, like it has for the last twenty-four years. I'll be fine," Dawn's voice was earnest. She was being truthful. She could bury this, if it was going to harm the relationship. "But you really want this, don't you? You've never done it before?" Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice from cracking. Dawn took a deep breath. "I want it, yes. And I've never loved or trusted anyone enough to ask before." Elizabeth didn't trust her voice. She merely nodded slowly. The throb between her legs had intensified to unbearable levels. She wanted to hold Dawn, stroke her. Wanted to be touched. Wanted to be loved.



Dawn uncurled herself and slowly crawled to the foot of the bed where Elizabeth was kneeling. She carefully draped her bare body over Elizabeth's knees. Elizabeth shivered at the sensations of bare skin against her own. Dawn moaned quietly as Elizabeth traced the bare buttocks across her knees. Elizabeth raised her hand and gently brought it down on the soft skin. Dawn laughed softly into the covers. "The slap you gave me earlier was harder." "I don't want to hurt you." "You won't. I'll stop you if it gets to be too much." Elizabeth sighed, and wished that Dawn's head were between her thighs instead of pressed into the bedclothes. She closed her eyes and let her hand fall again, this time a little harder. Dawn gasped as the sound of the slap filled the room. Elizabeth traced the slightly redder skin with her fingers eliciting further soft moans. The crickets maintained their cadence through the sharp retorts of skin on skin. The next three light spanks caused more soft moans from the squirming girl. After each light blow, Elizabeth let her fingers travel down. Dawn willingly spread her thighs, allowing her lover access. Elizabeth soothed the stinging with soft caresses to Dawn's swollen clitoris. Dawn jumped at each touch, but never complained. Her pale skin was red, and somehow beautiful lying across Elizabeth's thighs. To her surprise, Elizabeth could feel her arousal intensify as she played Dawn's game. This game hadn't really held any interest to her originally, but now, the sounds and the movements of Dawn were filling her senses. She could feel Dawn's trust and her arousal and it was driving her own. Dawn rolled herself off Elizabeth's legs and lay back into the pillows. "Thank-you," Dawn whispered. Elizabeth could feel the throbbing intensify throughout her body at the words. Her lover was thanking her for hurting her. It suddenly made sense to her, whereas it had only been a game before. Complete unadulterated trust. Elizabeth slipped the underclothing from her body, leaving her nude. She crawled up to Dawn. She noticed for the first time that Dawn had http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (22 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


tears in her eyes. "I didn't..." Elizabeth began as a look of concern crossed her face. "Shhh. No. I'm fine," Dawn reassured her. "I loved it." Her lips touched Elizabeth's and they fell into a timeless kiss. The fires intensified yet further in Elizabeth, beginning at the tips of her breasts and ending between her legs. Her pulse pounded in time with the unseen and unheard surf on the beach so far away. Every touch of Dawn's fingers felt like fire dancing across her bare skin. Her fingers found Dawn's nipples. The nipples were rock hard, and Dawn moaned at the touch. "Pinch," she whispered, and gasped as Elizabeth complied. Elizabeth's fingers stole slowly down Dawn's body, circling her belly button, lightly playing with the blonde thatch of hair below. She considered pulling on the tight hairs, but thought that she might experiment next time, this time she was still getting used to the game. Her fingers sought out the swollen lips. Moisture coated her fingers as she delved between the folds of soft skin. She entered Dawn's body, pumping slowly as she kissed her. "Please," Dawn begged quietly through the kiss, her voice trembling. Elizabeth instinctively knew what to do, and what Dawn had begged for. She gently withdrew from Dawn's vaginal opening and lightly spanked at the lips. The sound of the contact was charged to her ears. She couldn't believe she was actually hitting a girl there, however lightly. Dawn squirmed and begged incoherently. Elizabeth slowly dipped her middle finger inside again, stroking deep and then lightly teasing Dawn's clitoris. The pleasure overriding whatever pain she had caused. Five times, she did it, prolonging the teasing, and kissing away Dawn's tears of frustration. The air surrounding them was sticky with their hot breath mixing with the damp night air. The sounds of the light slaps to the tender skin filled the room, mixing with the laughing of some couple below the window, probably on their way to the disco. Finally, Dawn tensed on the last stroke of her clitoris. It was not her normal rhythm, Elizabeth knew. She had intended to tease her lover further before starting into her normal natural rhythms. She



began to speed her lightly stroking finger upward to match what she knew was Dawn's normal rhythms. A full flush flowed over Dawn's perspiration soaked body as her muscles contracted. Elizabeth's finger slipped inside, her thumb replacing the finger from Dawn's clitoris; she loved the feel of Dawn's climaxes from inside, almost experiencing the uncontrollable clenching as though she was one with her. At last, Dawn touched her still stroking hand, telling her she was done. The climax had been long, loud and hard, and Dawn was still breathing heavily with her exertions. The smell of female musk radiated from her as she struggled to control her breathing. Even her blonde hair was damp with her efforts. With one last light stroke, Elizabeth withdrew her fingers from Dawn's sex. As Elizabeth lay back, she touched her wet fingers to her lips, savouring the sharp taste of Dawn. Dawn's arousal fuelled her own, the throbbing nearly making her cry with desire. She closed her eyes and let her fingers pinch at her own nipples, shivering at her own light touches. She felt Dawn move, but didn't open her eyes. "Going to finish yourself?" Dawn asked quietly. Her voice came from down near Elizabeth's legs. She could feel the soft skin of Dawn lying between her thighs. "I will if you want, but I'd rather you did it," Elizabeth whispered. "All you had to do was ask, my sweet," Dawn whispered back. Elizabeth felt Dawn's fingers gently push her own away from her nipples. Suddenly there were soft touches, softer than her own, gently rubbing her swollen nipples. A soft wetness pushed between her lower lips. She almost fainted when the nerves tingled through her body. Dawn's tongue teased her gently, entering her, exploring her. She was unbelievably aroused. The gentle probing was going to make her explode far before she wanted to. She wanted these sensations to last forever. She was suddenly aware of the deep pounding of the disco, or perhaps it was her heart. The loud chirping of the crickets seemed to be in time with Dawn's probing tongue. The heavy scent of their lovemaking mixed gently with the humidity, almost like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. Her senses were filled up with Dawn, her scent, the remembered movement of Dawn's nakedness as she stung her, the first slap, the humidity, the pounding of the surf. She struggled http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/TroubleInParadise.html (24 of 26)8/15/2005 12:09:35 AM


with holding back her climax, wanting to prolong the sweet touches to her nipples, to her centre. Her resistance was finally overwhelmed. The soft surf washed over her senses as she exploded in pleasure. She heard a cry, realised it was her own, as all the muscles in her body contracted in unison. She arched herself, trying to get more contact with Dawn's softness. She collapsed into the bed, her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing ragged. She didn't even have the strength to touch Dawn to let her know she was finished. Dawn figured it out quickly enough, and with one final gentle lick, crawled up and lay quietly in the crook of Elizabeth's arm. After a fifteen minutes, Elizabeth gently extracted herself and padded naked to the open window. The warm moist air caressed her bare skin, evaporating the light sheen of perspiration that still adhered to her. She leaned on the windowsill, unconcerned about her nudity at this time of night. Her breasts still heaved with her laboured breathing. She watched the darkened pool as two lovers swam through the black water like silent mermaids. She wondered if Dawn's cries had carried down that far. Or her own, for that matter. Smiling, she wondered if Dawn and her would use the pool like the young lovers. They had all week. An eternity together. She gently closed and carefully locked the window. She padded quietly around the room, double-checking the locks. Satisfied, she padded back to the bed. Dawn was fast asleep, curled up towards Elizabeth's side of the bed. She watched her sleep for a while, then gently lay down, switching off the bedside lamp as she settled down with Dawn. Dawn automatically curled up against Elizabeth, sighing quietly in her sleep, her fingers splayed across Elizabeth's right breast and nipple. Exhausted, Elizabeth pulled the sheet over their hot bodies and sighed. She closed her eyes, feeling the long day finally driven from her consciousness. She felt like she was falling into dreams of endless palm trees, oceans, and peace. She couldn't do much about her family. Perhaps someday her father might understand. This girl, in her arms, was the centre of the universe for her. They were going places Elizabeth had never dreamed of, and she definitely wanted to go. The spanking had been an unexpected surprise, something good out of something bad. The morning was going to be interesting. God, she loved this girl. She hugged



Dawn, careful not to wake her. A soft voice floated up from her bare breast, where the blonde hair fanned out across her chest. "This is paradise." The crickets continued their unconcerned night song as Elizabeth drifted into a quiet sleep. This certainly was paradise.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Until It Hurts - Crimson Dragon

Until It Hurts © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Until It Hurts (FF, cons, outdoors) ======================================================================== By Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) Proofed by Munk and Mike Ink (c) Copyright - July 1998 All rights reserved ======================================================================== Her eyes fluttered open with a groan as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon and warmed her face through her bedroom window. She blinked her eyes slowly, waiting for the scratchiness of sleep to fade from beneath her lids. Her head pounded and her stomach was playing a poor accordion somewhere deep inside of her. Her throat felt like it had been sanded with coarse grade sandpaper. Her mouth tasted like the cat had used it as a litter box. She groaned again and tried to turn over to her side, her fingers pressing lightly into her abdomen, trying to ease the nausea. A gentle weight lay against her ribs, just below her breasts, preventing her journey to her side. She opened her eyes again and raised her pounding head. She gently lifted the sheet, wondering what could be lying on her. The cat was heavier, and though there was the usual purr of breathing, it wasn't quite the raspy purr of Lucifer. A http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (1 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


small hand with long slender fingers lay across her, the fingers gently cupping her bare right breast. It took her foggy brain a moment to notice the pink nail polish on the tip of each finger, rising and falling with each of her shallow breaths. She closed her eyes, dropped the sheet, and turned her head, lowering it gently to her pillow. As she reopened her eyes, a soft face, diffused in sleep and lying on the pillow beside her filled her view. She nearly screamed in surprise, though she probably should have figured out that the hand cupping her breast belonged to someone. She stifled the cry and stared up at the ceiling. Her pounding brain struggled in vain to remember. She consciously slowed her heart and gently reached under the sheets, moving the limp hand from her chest, hoping not to wake the woman beside her. God, where had this headache come from? And who the hell was the brunette sharing her bed? The woman stirred at the movement of her arm, but didn't wake. The sunlight had crept to her face, illuminating it like a spotlight on an angel. She wrinkled her nose at the light disturbing her dreams and turned over, presenting her bare back and long brunette hair to her bedmate. Melissa groaned again, but more quietly, as a wave of nausea washed over her. She closed her eyes until it passed, and then gently swung her legs out of the bed. Her bare feet connected with the hardwood and she shivered, realizing that she was completely nude. She never slept without her nightgown, or for that matter with another woman. She glanced around the bedroom. At least it was her own room and not some sleazy motel. Her mind refused to give up the details of last evening, but she vaguely recalled far too many shooters - B-52's, 747's, and some dandy named Sex On The Beach. Her head throbbed again, and Melissa gently lowered her head into her hands, her elbows supported by her knees. The nausea washed over her again - sitting up hadn't helped her at all. This time, the waves of nausea overwhelmed her and she stumbled out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, making it just in time. *** She felt better after being sick, though her head still pounded to the beat of some raucous military marching band. Her mouth tasted far worse than it had when she had awakened, and brushing her teeth had only marginally helped. She stared at her disheveled face in the mirror. Her blue eyes stared back at her, almost as if accusing her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (2 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


of something. Her blonde locks were tangled about her head, framing her face in dirty golden strands. It looked like she had run a marathon, she thought with a critical eye. She flipped two aspirin into her mouth and dry swallowed them, gagging at the taste. She ran her fingers through her long, tangled blonde mane and pulled it back into a pony tail away from her face. She washed her face quickly and padded back to the bedroom. The girl was still fast asleep, her breathing soft and regular beneath the sheets. Melissa glanced about the bedroom. Clothing, hers and others that she didn't recognise, were strewn haphazardly around the room. A strange brassiere dangled from the bedpost, her nightgown, untouched, was still folded neatly over the desk chair. A white ankle sock lay over a pair of blue jeans crumpled at the foot of the bed. Neither were hers. Melissa took a deep breath and debated waking the woman, finding out exactly what had taken place. The throbbing between her legs and the tingling of her body told her exactly what she had done. Though she had never shared her bed with a woman, she certainly knew the signals, at least she thought she did. She self-consciously touched herself between her legs, trying to confirm her activities from the night before. She wasn't absolutely positive, but she certainly ached in all the right places. It was hard to be positive with the after-effects of the drinks. She might ache for a completely different reason than the obvious. At least it was possible. Melissa padded over to the desk and picked up a pen along with her perfumed writing pad. Dear stranger sleeping in my bed, ... she smiled ruefully at the thought. She lowered the pen back to the desk. She didn't even know to whom to address a note, or whether she should even leave the house. But she had to leave. She had to sort this out before talking to the girl in her bed. Her aching head was in a whirl of confusion and she wasn't thinking straight. Barefoot, she padded over to her dresser and silently pulled out her Spandex shorts and halter-top. She quickly donned the clothing and padded back out to the living room. The clock there told her it was 5:28 AM, far too early to be up. The roosters wouldn't even be awake yet. She sighed, knowing it would be useless to try and get back into bed and sleep, especially with the girl there. Her head still pounded like some over-eager conga drum player was alive and well in there.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (3 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


*** She stepped through the sliding glass doors and onto the deck, wincing at the early morning light. She gazed out over the water, the morning sun still large and orange on the horizon. It glinted off the still ocean as though the water was a sheet of glass. A small fish jumped, breaking the mirrored blue surface, sending tiny ripples to the ends of the earth. Melissa took a deep breath, breathing in the salty air. With the inrush of fresh air, her head was beginning to fade back into a semblance of normalcy and her nausea had completely disappeared. Her throat still felt scratchy, but she no longer wanted to kill the cat for using it as a litter box. The beach was silent as she descended down to the sand, using the short flight of rough stairs. Not even the ever-present seagulls were awake yet. Her bare feet felt the coolness of the sand, residual from the cool of the night before, reassuring and close. Without thinking, she began to run, her feet whispering through the sand, her thighs and calves straining against the yielding surface. Soon she was flying down the beach, her toes indenting the wet sand by the water's edge. Her breathing slowly increased as her heart pounded against her ribs. The effects of the drinks last night diminished as though they had never been there. She ran until it hurt. Her side throbbed with a stitch, and her body ached, but still she ran, her hair flying out behind her in the wind that she had created. As she reached the end of the deserted beach, she finally allowed herself to collapse. The pain flooded through her body as she struggled to find her breath. Her legs and lungs were screaming bloody murder at her as she fell to her knees in the sand. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned forward, burying her forehead in the sand. She wept there for some time, only partly from the pain. She had no idea how long she knelt there, but when the tears finally stopped, her breathing slowed and she rolled onto her back staring up at the bright blue sky above her, the sun inexorably climbing above the horizon. *** She'd always been prone to over-reaction. It was probably why Steve http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (4 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


had left her, she thought bitterly. And probably why a stranger was sleeping in her bed this morning. She felt the tears surface again as she lay in the soft sand and visions of Steve flitted across her mind. She savagely wiped at her face with her fingers, blinking at the wetness. How often had they made the run out here together in better times? They'd laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. Steve was the one who had encouraged her to run until it hurt. She hadn't quite known what he meant until yesterday. She'd run until it hurt, and then kept running, hard and fast. Up until yesterday, when they'd lain here panting together and she had found out that hurt was a relative thing. Dammit ... she'd been vulnerable, and secure, and feeling good for the first time in years and it was right here - she prodded the sand with her finger right here when he had told her about his secretary. Twenty-four short hours ago. And now she was alone. Tears came again, unbidden. She had over-reacted like she always did - hitting him, and cursing. Just like her. The side of herself that she'd managed to bury for Steve for all these long months with him. His face had been a mask of sorrow and pain. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, hadn't kept it from her. He'd been honest with her, which was a hell of a lot better than most guys she'd dated. It still hurt. How the hell could he want another woman? What was wrong with her? She pounded her fist into the sand beside her aching thigh as the relentless pictures of herself continued beneath her closed eyelids. She had fallen to her knees after he had avoided every futile swing of her small fists, exhausting her already sore body. Pathetic. She had cried, pushing him away when he tried to comfort her. She hadn't wanted to cry, she simply had, not being able to help herself. The tears had felt like rivers of fire, leaking from her eyes and tracing down her cheeks to drip from her chin. When she had finally raised her head and cleared her tears, he was gone - only a small figure walking away from her in the distance, not looking back. She had watched miserably as he disappeared down the beach and out of her life forever. She didn't even know the secretary's name. She didn't care. She had stared out at the circling gulls for hours until she had dragged herself to her feet wearily and walked through the shallow water back to her beach house. He had been gone. Not even a note. Only the scent of his aftershave still wafting across the calm air in the house to remind her of him.



*** The current tears eventually dried up. She chastised herself as she sat up, brushing grains of sand from her arm and side. She carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood wearily to her bare feet. The salty air tasted almost like her tears but in a lighter way. It was over; she didn't even know where Steve was, or what he was doing. But he wasn't coming back. Ever. She glanced down at her finger. She ought to sell the thing, or find him and return it. She wasn't in a charitable mood. Her head had begun to ache again as soon as she stopped moving. She carefully worked the clear hard stone from her left ring finger and weighed it in her hand. She stepped down the beach until the water lapped over her toes. Some oyster is going to love this, she thought to herself as she watched the easy arc of the diamond before it splashed into the still water and sank forever. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as the small stone disappeared. A slight ache rippled through her heart, the loss of ten months of her life, but she eventually turned away and splashed gently through the warm ocean water as she slowly returned to her home. *** She sat on the bottom step leading up to the sundeck. Her bare toes formed small circles in the sand. She intently watched the shallow tracks in the sand rise and fall under the gentle guidance of her feet. Her knees were pressed together and her hands rested easily on them. She struggled to control her breathing; she had run the last half of the journey back, running through the pain of already over-exerted muscles. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" she asked herself in a soft whisper. She remembered calling Jean after she'd realised that Steve was never coming back, and more importantly, realised that she didn't want him to come back. Jean had collected her and they'd gone out. "To forget," she had said. 'Forget' apparently being the operative word. After the first noisy, smoky club it was a complete blur of people, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (6 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


dancing, crying, laughter and alcohol. She vaguely recalled refusing some marijuana at some point. Thank God. Her head would be splitting if she'd indulged in that vice. Her heart rate fell to a somewhat normal level, and she sighed. She had no idea what time it was, but the sun had lifted a respectable distance above the horizon. She rose with an effort to her feet and climbed slowly up the stairs, her fingers dragging on the handrail. The wood of the steps felt suddenly rougher beneath her feet. She took a deep breath as she slid open the deck doors. She had no idea if her guest was awake, or if she was even still there. Anything was possible. There was no sound, no sign that her bedmate remained in the beachhouse. Lucifer appeared slowly and gracefully, from the direction of the kitchen. She gave her owner one of those baleful, half-accusatory looks that felines are so good at. Her liquid eyes seemed to ask exactly why she hadn't been allowed to sleep in with her owner as she normally did. Oh. And by the way, where's my breakfast? Melissa quickly opened some of Lucifer's favourite food, placing the plate on the floor. She normally fed Lucifer before her morning run, but this morning had been ... different. Melissa knew she'd regret ignoring the creature this morning. Lucifer had a way of making her displeasure known, hence her name. Lucifer, head held high, pranced over, gave Melissa an about-time-too expression and settled herself to eat. Leaving Lucifer to her breakfast, Melissa padded quietly to the bedroom and peeked in. The woman was still fast asleep, curled up and breathing regularly. As the door opened the brunette head stirred, moaned quietly but didn't quite wake. Melissa softly shut the door and again chastised herself. She should wake the woman up and get her out of here before ... Before what? Steve comes home? Melissa sighed to herself as she fought back the threatening tears. She padded to the bathroom and slipped out of her jogging clothes, letting them fall haphazardly to the bathroom tile. She flipped on



the hot water and stepped into the shower, standing under the sharp spray and letting the clear steamy water soak away her aches and pains. *** As she emerged another around coffee in this indifferent so morning.

from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head and her body, she smelled coffee. She hadn't smelled house in months. Steve hadn't liked coffee and she was she had accepted his request not to smell it every

She inhaled, smelling a curious mixture of coffee, bacon, steam and peach scented soap. She felt clean, and far better than she had when she'd awakened at 5:28 AM. Swallowing heavily, she padded out to the kitchen, leaning up against the arch leading into the bright room. The sizzling of the bacon masked any small sounds that her bare feet made, so the woman sitting quietly at the kitchen table didn't notice her enter. The woman was a brunette, but Melissa knew that already. Petite, young, in her early twenties, she looked to have brown eyes and a trim figure. She was engulfed in a white nightgown that looked like it may have come from Melissa's closet. Melissa was simply thankful that the girl had put on clothing at all. She was sitting, facing the entrance, her brown eyes scanning the morning newspaper intently. Her legs were crossed under the glass table, her right foot bare and swinging gently as she read. As she moved to pick up her cup of coffee, her eyes lifted and spied Melissa. A friendly smile illuminated her features. "Good morning," the girl spoke. Her voice was contralto, almost a soft musical quality to it. Melissa took a deep breath and moved into the room without answering the girl. The girl's eyes followed her every movement, cautious and uncertain. Melissa sat down across from the girl and folded her hands gently over the glass of the table. She wished that she had dressed before coming out here, but she had been dreadfully curious. Suddenly she felt self-conscious of wearing only a towel in her own home. "Can I get you some coffee?" the girl tried again, a bit of nervousness, and perhaps bewilderment, entering her voice and face.



Melissa sighed to herself. She might not quite know what was going on, but she could at least be civil. "No, thank-you," Melissa replied quietly. Then she realised that she had answered out of habit, she had been refusing coffee for the last ten months because of Steve. Not because of her own desires. The girl had lowered her eyes at the answer. Awkward. "I can go if you want," the girl spoke quietly towards the table. She looked suddenly fascinated by her bare feet under the glass, and Melissa was almost sure that she detected a brightness to the girl's eyes which could only be the beginnings of tears. "On second thought, maybe I will have one with you," Melissa spoke a little more gently. She moved to get up, but the girl was faster. Melissa watched in silence as the girl poured her a cup of coffee from the carafe. The girl looked up at Melissa questioningly. "Cream ... no sugar," Melissa answered the unasked question. She watched the girl move around the kitchen, finding the cream in the refrigerator and stirring the mug. She placed the mug down beside Melissa and then moved off to tend the bacon. The girl pulled the bacon out of the pan with a knife and fork and dried it carefully on a paper towel. She turned off the burner and returned to her seat, her eyes fixed on Melissa. Melissa savoured the rich coffee. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed this simple pleasure. She glanced over the rim of the cup. The girl was still watching her with her intense deep brown eyes. "This is a bit awkward," the brunette spoke quietly. "I should go." She began to rise from her seat. Melissa lowered her cup to the table. The sound of it touching the table sounded like a gunshot. Melissa touched the girl's arm across the table, stopping her movement. Melissa took a deep breath. "I suppose if I've slept with you, I should at least know who you are," she whispered. A red flush had crept into her cheeks unbidden. She couldn't believe that she'd slept



with someone the day she had broken up with Steve. Much less that it had been a woman. She wasn't a prude, but she'd never been attracted to women before and still wasn't. At least she didn't think so. The girl looked stunned and lowered herself back to the chair. "You don't remember?" the girl asked quietly. Melissa nibbled her lower lip, willing the tears back again, and gently shook her head. The girl pursed her lips, and rocked slowly back and forth in her seat. "Maybe then it is better if I just leave," she said softly. Melissa swallowed heavily. are. Please stay. At least not hurrying you out." She to go and forget her, half

"I need to know what happened. Who you have breakfast. You made it after all. I'm fought with herself, half wanting the girl wanting to know everything.

The girl seemed indecisive. She bit her lower lip, running her teeth along the skin there. She finally took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that you don't remember. You ... you had a few drinks last night." "I know. My head knows it anyway," Melissa attempted a rueful smile. The girl stuck her hand across the table, outstretched. "I'm Reane," she spoke softly. "We've been introduced before. I'm a friend of Jean's, in case you don't remember." Melissa hesitated for a moment and grasped the offered hand. It was warm, strong and soft. "Melissa," she murmured. "I'm afraid that I really don't remember. I'm sorry." Reane smiled gently, the worry that Melissa wasn't going to shake her hand disappearing from her features. "I know you don't. And it's alright. I was expecting this to be a little awkward this morning. I'm actually surprised that you didn't wake me up." "What the hell hit me last night?" Melissa asked with a quiver in her voice.



Reane smiled widely as she rose to her bare feet and began to heat the stove again. Melissa watched the girl as she began to prepare the eggs she had found in the fridge. "Well, you already had had a few when I caught up with you," Reane tossed over her shoulder. "But from what I remember you got hit by three B-52's, three 747's, three beers, um Molson Canadian, I think, three whiskey neat, and um, three Sex On The Beach. You liked the number three for some reason which you wouldn't divulge. And you liked the Sex On The Beach, too. Again, you wouldn't say why." Melissa gasped. No wonder her head was aching this morning. She rarely drank at all, much less mixed. She was surprised she hadn't passed out. Maybe she had, for all she knew. "I made a fool of myself." It was a statement, not a question. Reane turned herself back to the stove, ignoring the statement. "How do you like your eggs?" "Scrambled," Melissa spoke softly, suddenly ashamed of herself as Reane began to break eggs into a bowl. Melissa's mind whirled. Never again, Melissa swore to herself. Never again. Should have at least waited before getting drunk and sleeping with a woman. Christ. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Reane placed a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice in front of Melissa. Steve had never once made her breakfast, much less served it to her. Melissa watched and waited for Reane to bring her own breakfast back and settle back into her seat. They ate in silence, the clacks of the forks filling the void. The breakfast was excellent, and Melissa was stunned to discover that she was ravenous. She finished the food far before Reane who ate slowly and daintily. Melissa watched the girl finish her breakfast and then sat back. Reane spoke softly. "I ... I'm not exactly sure what you think went on last night ..." "It's pretty clear, though, I'm sorry but I don't really remember it all. Kind of a blur," Melissa finished the girl's train of thought.



Reane smiled softly. "I thought it might be a blur for you. I tend to forget when I drink as well." "What happened? No offence, but why are you here?" Melissa asked quietly, inwardly cringing as Reane's easy smile fell a notch. Reane took a small breath and let it out. "You really don't remember ... this is kind of embarrassing." "I figured as much," Melissa commented with a slight flush crawling up her cheeks. "I wouldn't normally do this," Reane started. someone like yourself. At least not right off apparently had. First of all, I'm not here to way. I'm not like that. I begged Jean to find

"I mean come home with a big break up like you pressure you in any someone else."

"Someone else?" "To take you home and take care of you. But you wouldn't go home with any member of the male population ... understandably ... and I was the only woman left other than Jean. Jean had to get home, one of her children was sick. So I got elected, even though I thought it was a bad idea." Reane paused, thinking before she began to speak. "I ... I had to help you into the cab. I don't drive. And out again. You ... um ... were singing, a little." "Singing?" "Um, yeah ... something about raindrops falling from your eyes ... sounded like it was out of the sixties. You actually weren't too bad," Reane tried another friendly smile. Melissa flushed. Reane continued, "I brought you in and finally managed to get you into bed. You claimed to be hot and kind of undressed." "Kind of?" "Well, yeah. You kind of threw your clothes around the bedroom. I had already taken off your shoes for you. I tried to convince you to lie http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (12 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


down and sleep, but ..." "I didn't want to. People tell me I don't respond well to suggestions if I've had a few. I wasn't violent was I?" Reane laughed a little. "You weren't violent, though I'm glad I'm not Steve, whoever he is." Melissa felt the sting of the tears before she could stop them. Reane stopped her narrative, realising that she'd hit a nerve by mistake. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "It's alright. I've already cried it out," Melissa mumbled, not really believing it completely herself. Reane took a deep breath and continued. "That's when things got a little weird." "Weird?" Melissa had some idea what weird meant. "Yeah, you knelt up on the bed and announced that ... that you knew that I was ... into girls. That Jean had told you. By the way, I'm going to kill Jean for telling you that." Melissa didn't remember Jean ever having said such a thing, or even mentioning Reane's name before last night. Perhaps Jean had told her last evening, during some sorority rite of turgid drinking. "Anyway," Reane continued, trying to keep her voice steady, "you announced that you wanted to have a little fun and that you wanted to try it." "I'm so sorry," Melissa mumbled, embarrassment flooding through her veins. Reane looked across the table at Melissa and tried to judge her state of mind. Reane whispered quietly, "It wasn't completely unwelcome. Jean, whenever she told you, didn't lie. And you are an attractive woman." Melissa's face registered her shock. "Please don't take that the wrong way. I understand. I've been dealing with that reaction all my life and I don't mean to offend. I only mean it in a nice way." "Oh my God," Melissa whispered as she realised that she actually had



done something last night. Up until now she'd been at least able to have doubts. She wouldn't touch so much as wine ever again, as long as she lived. Reane's face clouded a little, perhaps in regret. "Don't 'Oh yet, Melissa. We didn't do anything. I swore to take care of Jean, and damned if I wasn't going to. I sat in the chair in and calmed you down, fighting myself, and made you lie down. Eventually, you did. I watched you sleep for a while until I keep my eyes open any longer."

my God' you to there couldn't

"But ..." "I know. I wasn't exactly in the chair in the morning." Melissa nodded, not quite sure what to think. "I woke up an hour or so later by your clock. You were moaning, having a nightmare or something. I gently woke you up, but you must have been still feeling the effects of the alcohol. You cried for a time while I held you. I don't think that you fully woke up. You apologised to me ... sleepily ... and then told me not to sleep in the chair. I was so damn tired. I know I shouldn't have, but I wasn't thinking straight, I was half asleep as well. I took off my clothes as I walked around the bed, and then climbed in. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I know I shouldn't have, but honestly, we didn't do anything. I wouldn't. I couldn't. Not and feel good about myself in the morning." Reane reached across the table and gripped Melissa's hand in hers. "Melissa. I'm sorry. I thought you knew." Melissa swallowed and began to cry, partially in relief, partially in shame, partially in gratitude. "Thank-you," Melissa whispered. "For what?" "For not taking advantage of me, and for taking care of me." Reane smiled. "You're welcome. Thanks for not hating me and letting me stay for breakfast."



Melissa smiled through her tears. *** The house felt empty after Reane changed and left. Melissa moped around, feeling the absence of the ring that she had worn for three of the last ten months. She missed that more than Steve. The phone remained silent, despite her frequent glances at it. She cleaned up and watched television without really paying attention. Night had fallen without her even aware of the fact. Her body was aware of it, though. The static from the television woke her at the station sign off. She stretched and stumbled to bed. Reane's scent still filled the pillow beside her, stronger by far than Steve's. She breathed in the scent of clover and honey and closed her eyes. *** It had been a hard week, end of month, end of quarter, everyone had wanted a piece of her. Friday night and she was frazzled already. No date to look forward to, nothing but the television and perhaps Jean coming over sometime on the weekend. It was seven when she'd finally sorted out the incompetence in accounting. She'd escaped the office before the next round of phone calls inundated her. Every red light seemed to be against her, everybody on the road seemed to be turning left in front of her. Melissa was ready to scream as she fought through the early weekend traffic towards her beachhouse. Maybe she would jog on the beach when she got home. It might remind her of Steve again, but she needed to do something, or she would go crazy. She was over Steve, anyway. The jerk had never even tried to call her. Not that she would have talked to him. A figure sat on the front porch as she pulled up the driveway. The heat of the day wasn't helping her emotional state, and she wasn't in the mood for visitors, or salesmen, and if it was Steve looking for his forgotten toothbrush, God help him. She'd give it back to him, but he wouldn't be comfortable. She slammed the car door and walked swiftly up the steps. The figure rose. Melissa's heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. A familiar flash of brown hair and a diminutive frame. Reane stood from the wicker chair biting gently at her lower lip. Melissa



stood stock still on the top step and regarded the girl. Reane spoke first in a quiet voice, taking in the frazzled woman in front of her. "I'm sorry. I caught you at a bad time." Melissa found her tongue. For some reason her stomach was in knots. "It's ... it's alright. What are you doing here?" Reane looked pained, as though she really didn't know why she was here. "I ... I wanted to see if you were alright." She took a deep breath. "Jean wouldn't give me your number, and I didn't even know your last name. I knew where you lived though," Reane tried a weak smile. "I'm fine." Melissa walked slowly across the porch and fit her key into the lock. The snick of the key turning broke through the silence. Reane looked nervous and pained. "I should go. Should have listened to Jean. I'm sorry for intruding." She began to walk slowly towards the steps, her head bent slightly. Melissa gathered her breath, not sure what she was doing, and called to Reane, softly. "Reane? Can I call you a cab, or something?" Reane turned slowly at the bottom step, looking up at Melissa. "I'll be alright. Thanks anyway. I don't live far." She turned and began to walk down the concrete flagstones to the driveway. "Reane?" The girl turned again at the bottom of the driveway, her eyes looking a little dejected in the evening sun. "My last name is Nichols." Melissa watched as the girl turned left at the bottom of the driveway and disappeared down the sidewalk. Melissa opened her door and stepped inside. She almost called out Steve's name, and then caught herself. She felt like having a stiff drink, but refrained, settling in to watch a Seinfeld re-run. She would order a pizza later; she didn't feel like cooking and wasn't particularly hungry yet. ***



The phone rang, startling her. The phone had been unusually quiet at night since Steve had left. She took a deep breath. If it was Steve, she didn't know what she'd say. He hadn't called in the week since he'd left, and she didn't expect him to, but he was still the most likely caller. She debated letting the machine pick it up. While she was debating with herself, hand over the receiver, the machine took her decision from her. A female voice sprang from the tinny speaker. "Come on, pick up, Melissa. It's not Steve." Melissa brightened quickly and picked up the receiver, her finger switching off the machine before the feedback kicked her in the ear. "Jean!" "You moping around?" Melissa considered lying, but refrained. "Yeah." "Seinfeld?" "What do you think?" "Making you laugh?" "Not a whit." "You want to come out with the girls?" Jean asked. "Is there alcohol involved?" "What do you think? There has to be with us putting up with our husbands all day," Jean joked lightly. "I'm not drinking. I'm still hung over from last weekend," Melissa's head still felt a bit fuzzy and it had been a full week since Steve's abrupt departure. "Well, come on out anyway, you need it." There was never any doubt; she had to get out, even with a bunch of drunk married women. "I'll tag along."



"Good stuff. Be there around nine." Just enough time for a shower. Finally, Melissa had some purpose for the first time all week. She jumped off the couch, pulling off her office clothes in preparation for her shower before she had even left the living room. Seinfeld bantered with Kramer for the empty room. *** The club was smoky and noisy and full of men and women itching for each other. Every slow song had the dance floor packed. Alcohol was flowing freely, and Melissa had already fended off three drunken idiots. She had no interest in men tonight. It was times like these that she really missed Steve. They used to dance all night together, and when she was with Steve she had never been approached by strange drunkards. Jean sat with Melissa across the table. Jean had tried to engage conversation over the bar music a number of times, but Melissa wasn't in the mood to shout over the music or talk. She just watched the people and nursed her Sprite as Jean talked animatedly to another married friend who was sitting closer to her on the left side of the table. Melissa watched as Jean sipped at her fourth Pina Colada. The married friend, who had never been properly introduced to her, downed another beer in one long swallow. Melissa was faced towards the door as a familiar face entered the club and paid the cover charge. The brunette walked across the dance floor, spinning easily around the gyrating people. She finally settled across the table beside Jean. She waved a hello to Melissa and then sat back watching the people, declining to be drawn into conversation with Jean, and refusing the offer of a drink. Jean shrugged and continued some diatribe against husbands with her married friend. *** Around midnight, Jean and her friend rose unsteadily to their feet. They began a weaving gait towards the front entrance of the club, arms around one another and laughing hysterically. Melissa sighed, knowing that she was the designated driver tonight. It hadn't been her choice or by any agreement. She simply was the only one with a driver's license that was drinking only Sprite. Reane rose with a knowing look and helped Melissa guide the other two women to the door and out to Jean's BMW. She hadn't spoken two words to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (18 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


Reane all night, but perhaps that was because the music had been so loud. Reane grunted as she buckled Jean into the passenger seat amidst a few protests as to Jean's ability to drive. Melissa safely had the keys, so it didn't matter how sober Jean claimed to be. Melissa finished putting on the seatbelt for the other woman. She straightened and leaned on the roof of the car, breathing heavily. Reane, also breathing hard, did the same. "Guess I'll walk," Reane spoke over the roof. "Don't be silly, I'll drop you home." "You sure?" "Shouldn't be out walking alone at this time of night." "I do it all the time. Not much choice." "Get in," Melissa admonished. Reane grinned and slipped into the back seat where she immediately got sucked into an incoherent and partially slurred discussion of why children should be seen and not heard. Melissa, eventually, got directions to the other woman's house, waiting and making sure she stumbled inside alright. Then she dropped off Jean, sighing as she locked up the car. Jean had begged to be taken home next and had disappeared quickly inside with some hasty slurred comment about how her back teeth were floating. Melissa seriously doubted if Jean was coming back out. Melissa dropped the keys in Jean's mailbox and leaned over the roof of the red BMW. She didn't have to walk far to get home, and despite her words to Reane earlier, the streets were relatively safe in this neighbourhood. And a walk would do her good. "We never got a chance to talk," remarked Reane over the car. "I know. Just had a lot on my mind, tonight." "Care to talk about it?" Reane asked quietly. "I'm a good listener and I think we're walking in the same direction." Melissa nodded, weary and tired. They began to walk through the humid



air, the sounds of their footfalls the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood. They never did talk. *** Melissa was silently crying as they approached the beachhouse, but at least the memory of Steve was fading considerably. Reane didn't seem to mind the quiet tears, and didn't press Melissa. She helped Melissa open her door. The door swung open gently, the doorknob knocking at the wall behind. "I guess I should invite you in. I'm sorry for not inviting you in earlier," Melissa spoke quietly, wiping away the last of the tears. "I understand. And I'll understand if you don't invite me in now either," Reane gazed up at Melissa from the first step of the porch. "But I don't bite, you know. I'd like to be friends at least, if we are going to have to drive drunken friends home together with any frequency. With Jean ... it could be a possibility." Melissa stood framed in the doorway, leaning on it easily looking out. A smile graced her lips at Reane's easy banter. Jean accepted the girl for who she was. But Jean wasn't single, either, nor had she shared her bed with the girl. It was easy to accept her under those conditions. Nobody to label her a lesbian. Melissa idly wondered if Reane had told anyone about that bizarre night. Probably not. The light of the moon softly lit the front yard. "Come on. I'll make some coffee and we can take it out to the beach," Melissa spoke with some trepidation. Reane smiled gently and stepped back up onto the porch. *** The strong aroma of the coffee drifted across the beach as the two women walked across the sand through the pooling moonlight. Their shoes were back at the house; their bare feet whispered across the white sand. Reane sat down abruptly, working her toes into the warm sand. Melissa sat down easily beside her leaning back on her hands. The half moon glowed silently above the waves. "I really wanted to ask you to dance, tonight," Reane spoke softly. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (20 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


Melissa turned to gaze into Reane's eyes. "I couldn't have," she spoke softly and sipped at her coffee. There was a slight pause as Reane turned back to the ocean. "I feel ... torn. It's been a long time for me, but I don't want to push you. I want to let you know how I feel, and yet I don't. I probably shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to make you feel awkward. If you are uncomfortable with anything, please just tell me. Okay? I ... I really don't know what I'm doing here at all. And I won't be offended." "You aren't making me uncomfortable at all. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." "I didn't mind taking care of you," Reane spoke to the ocean. Melissa took a deep breath and fought down the butterflies suddenly fluttering in her stomach. Her and Steve had never shared coffee on the beach. He had never offered to talk when they walked home from Jean's. Fact was, he disliked Jean. And most of all, he'd never made her breakfast. Why had she even agreed to marry him? Over-reacted to the bent knee approach, she supposed. Caught up in the moment? Was this over-reacting? Inviting Reane out here into her private sanctuary? Like she had Steve? No ... she had taken Steve into her bed the first night. She had refused to even think about Reane for a week. Even though the girl was likeable, and had done nothing to her except offer her support. More than Jean even had. She gently touched Reane's shoulder. Reane turned, seeing the look in Melissa's eyes. "Are you sure?" "I'm not sure. No. But I'm not drunk, I'm not high, and I'm feeling like maybe I should be here. With you. It ... somehow feels right." Reane gently leaned forward, never letting her eyes waver from Melissa and softly kissed her. Reane backed away and looked questioningly at Melissa. Melissa had felt the electricity of the kiss tingle through her senses as it never had with Steve. Melissa opened her eyes and gave Reane a gentle



smile. Then she fell to her hands and knees and offered her lips to Reane again. This time, the kiss sent shock waves through her system, flooding her with tingles and pleasant vibrations. She could feel her body reacting, needing comfort, needing this. The waves lapped at the shore as the women embraced, still kissing and nervously laughing together. Melissa felt her hands touching the unfamiliar female body beside her, touching breasts, hips, and belly through Reane's light clothing. She could feel the soft sensations of her top being unbuttoned and slipping down her arms, fluttering to the sand. Her shorts and underwear slipped from her legs as she dove to catch Reane, sitting and laughing gently in the sand. Reane allowed her clothing to fall to the sand at the insistence of Melissa's fingers. Melissa shivered as her bare skin touched the girl, felt the new and different fingers lightly pinching at her swollen nipples. She felt free for the first time in a long time as the fingers teased her. A soft tongue licked playfully at her nipples, soft fingers tracing down her belly, finding her folds, teasing her as she arched against the sand. She gasped as Reane found her centre with her fingers. The urgency built in her as the slender fingers circled her twice and entered her gently. She could feel the long sharp nails as they slid past her entrance. She squirmed beneath the touch, moaning quietly, wanting to kiss. Reane seemed to know exactly what to do, knew Melissa inside and out, naturally, somehow. The kiss came to her lips as another electric pulse shook her, as Reane's fingers found her swollen clitoris again. The salty air mixed with her tears as she cried out, her muscles contracting as one. She arched, feeling the fingers enter her again, filling her, the light pressure still teasing her clitoris. She came down, satisfied and weak. She moaned and gently pushed Reane's fingers from her breasts and vagina. The girl sat back and watched Melissa as she fought her breath under control. Finally Melissa opened her eyes and smiled at the brunette girl sitting nude beside her in the sand. "I'm afraid that I don't ..." Melissa whispered miserably. Reane smiled gently in the darkness. "Know how to do me?" Reane finished the thought. Melissa felt the tears stinging her eyes again. She nodded miserably. Reane smiled gently. "It's alright, Melissa. You do know how. Just do what I did for you. We can experiment later, if you want. If it's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UntilItHurts.html (22 of 24)8/15/2005 12:09:58 AM


because you don't want to, that's fine too. I can take care of myself later." There was no sense of guilt or regret in her soft musical voice. Melissa almost cried. She couldn't remember the last lover she had had that only cared for her pleasure. She didn't think there ever had been one. She took a deep breath, remembering the intense climax that Reane had given to her. She rolled onto her side and carefully motioned Reane to the sand. She shushed her as Reane began to softly protest. The intensity of the tingles didn't diminish with her past climax. Melissa still felt them as she gently kissed the girl. She'd masturbated many times between loves and before she'd met Steve, so she knew at least what to do. Her fingers easily found Reane's breasts, gently rubbing the erect nipples. She kissed away Reane's gasps. She teased the girl as best she could, finding her sensitive spots as though she was born to know them. Slowly, she found where Reane wanted her, entering her, withdrawing, slowly circling the swollen clitoris at her centre. Reane was very ready, very wet, gasping and pushing against the light friction of Melissa's fingertips. It didn't take Melissa long to find the rhythm of Reane's body. The brunette climaxed quickly and heavily, biting her lip as she fell over the edge. Her body arched, straining and crying out the single word, "Yessss!" across the smiling ocean. Reane's bare body relaxed, finding her peace, hair splayed out across the white sand beneath her, her eyes still closed. Melissa kissed Reane's closed lids with a sense of regret for a life left behind and a growing excitement for a life just beginning and the eagerness of sharing. Reane smiled up at her and gently kissed Melissa's lips. Shocks. Slowly they rose to their bare feet and walked hand in hand back to the beach house, leaving their discarded clothing forgotten in the sand. *** Her eyes fluttered open with a groan over the horizon and warmed her face blinked her eyes slowly, waiting for fade from beneath her lids. She half

as the first rays of dawn broke through her bedroom window. She the scratchiness of sleep to expected to feel her head



pounding and her stomach deep in heavy nausea. Such strange dreams, such undeniable pleasures. The soft purring that wasn't Lucifer touched softly her ear. She turned her head slowly, smiling at the gentle angelic face framed by the morning sun. Her brunette lover stirred but didn't wake. She tried to turn over and smiled at the now familiar weight of Reane's hand cupping her breast. Gently, she lifted the small hand from her chest and slipped quietly out of bed. She watched Reane sleep for a few minutes and then gathered her running clothes. She wondered if breakfast would be ready for her when she stepped from her shower or if she would make it this morning for Reane. The sun was greeting a new day as she stepped barefoot onto the cool sand. She glanced up at her window, thought she saw a sleepy face and a hand waving, and then set out to run until it hurt. She didn't think it would hurt nearly as much this morning.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

A Most Unusual Afternoon - Crimson Dragon

A Most Unusual Afternoon © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== A Most Unusual Afternoon (F, cons, bond) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - July 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== "You want me to WHAT?" Darren spoke with incredulity evident in his voice from his seated position on the floor. Darlene sighed, afraid of this reaction. His harsh words did absolutely nothing to help the butterflies fluttering through her guts. In fact, the damn things nearly flew up her throat at Darren's words. She bit down her sharp retort and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her erratic breathing. Getting upset wasn't going to help her cause. Her parents had finally left for the afternoon. She'd tried her best to find out when they'd be back, but they had been vague, as usual. She didn't need to arouse their suspicions, so she had let it drop. They would be gone for a few hours at least. That's all she knew for sure, but it should be plenty of time.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (1 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


Ever since her parents had announced their plans this morning, her stomach had been in knots of heady anticipation. But everything had to go right, and Darren was the key. And he was sitting there on her floor, fidgeting and waiting for her to confirm her request. She took stock of herself. Did she actually want to go through with this? Darren's reluctance bothered her. He was rarely wrong. The insistent throbbing between her legs bellowed a resounding yes, while her more rational mind agreed with Darren - it was dangerous. But since when had she ever played anything safe? Safe was Boring, with a capital 'B'. She'd been seeing Bradley forever. And she wanted to do this. It was safe dammit. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced down at Darren still sitting cross legged on her beige carpet. Darren looked up at her with those eyes that she saw in the mirror every morning. Their eyes were the only way that you could tell that they were twins. His piercing blue eyes, full of life, full of intelligence, were the same as her own. Beyond the eyes, they shared a special bond of complete trust and sharing, like only twins could. She often felt like they were one, despite their interests diverging over the years. She could feel him almost as though he was part of her. She cherished that. And there he sat, his face open in dismay, unable to fathom what she'd asked of him. She couldn't do it without him, and she trusted nobody else enough to ask. She felt the butterflies leave her to bother someone else far away as her mind collapsed into the inevitable. She had known that he would balk. He had always been protective of her, despite being essentially the same age. Fine, he was two minutes older, but that didn't give him the right to ... she forced herself to check her emotions. He was only doing what he thought best for her. She couldn't blame him. Had he asked the same of her, she'd have balked just as surely as he had. She had no choice but to accept his reaction. She took a deep breath, too aware of her breasts rising as they rubbed against her sweater. She let her pent up breath out in a big whoosh and turned back to face him. "Darren, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked at all," Darlene spoke quietly from the pillows. Her eyes had begun to tear up, her disappointment evident. She tried to will it away; she honestly wasn't trying to make Darren feel guilty. She loved him too much for those silly games.



He swallowed carefully and licked his lips. "No, sis. I'm sorry. We've never kept anything from one another. Why should sex be different? You ... just surprised me, is all." Despite his words, he still looked awkward sitting down there. She felt the butterflies begin to return at the prospect that he hadn't outright refused her. She pressed her lips together, thinking. "Do you know what you are doing?" he asked quietly. She thought about it. She'd been seeing Bradley for over a year. She trusted him, and she wanted to do this. At least, her body wanted to do this. And she felt safe enough. Darren's uncertainty was enough to make her pause and think. What if ...? But time was ticking away for her. Her parents would be back eventually and that didn't leave her much time if she wanted to keep a safety zone. She had to be sure, and quickly. She propped herself up on her elbow and tried her best to smile at her brother. She nodded carefully in the affirmative. Darren seemed at war with himself as he sat there looking over at Darlene. His face was a mask of concentration and uncertainty. He would do anything to protect her, she knew that. They had been together all the way from the womb to this juncture - a journey spanning from before kindergarten to this last year of high school. And he'd always been there for her. She knew that they'd be apart soon anyway, his interests being at Queen's, hers at Lakehead. She was going to miss him terribly. It hurt to even think about that. Darren had been unsure of Bradley since she'd introduced them about a year ago. He'd kept his opinions to himself, but she could tell. With twins, it was nearly impossible to hide your true feelings. She'd tripped over it enough to know. Luckily, she approved of Beth, his current girlfriend, and he was well aware of that. In the same manner, she knew that Darren had some reservations about Bradley. It wasn't that he didn't like the guy, but he wasn't as openly enthusiastic as he had been with previous loves of hers. She didn't know the details of his apprehensions, but assumed that he was simply being over-protective, as always. She didn't mind too much. He'd never tell her who to go out with, and no matter what he'd support her wishes unless, God forbid, she managed to get into an abusive relationship. God help the guy. It was nice to know that he



would be around if she ever got herself in with an unsavoury character. She could see Darren mulling over his problem - her. She his face like a book. He was wishing desperately that he somewhere else, out with Beth perhaps. Anywhere but here between disappointing the person he loved more than life going along with her and getting her hurt. Maybe badly.

could read was stuck itself, or

"I. I don't think this is such a good idea. I ... I know Bradley ..." the words fell softly from his lips. She took a deep breath, not wanting to get into an argument over Bradley. Darren had tried to keep his feelings about Bradley under wraps but she had always known what they were. And she loved Darren for trying for her. She sighed. What had she really expected? She didn't quite know. She only knew what her desires were right now. She whispered quietly, "I understand." And she did. It was unfair to ask Darren at all. She'd figure something else out. Darren inhaled deeply, his blue eyes watching his sister. She was hiding her disappointment well, but it was there. She had been unable to completely hide it, though God knew she had tried. She watched him as he slowly rose to his feet. She held back as long as she could, until he had completely turned to leave. She felt the single tear of hopeless disappointment as it coursed down her face. It wasn't just the failure of her afternoon plans but more importantly that the twins had separated a little further. They had always been there for one another, no matter what, and that was beginning to end. She felt responsible. Her request had been too much for him, and she was truly sorry that she'd imposed. Yet she had wanted to be honest with him, share her desires with him. She felt a deep sadness, as though she was losing a lover as he moved away from her bed. He turned at the doorway and she wasn't quite quick enough to wipe away the tear. She hadn't expected him to turn. He stood outlined in her doorway, a similar sad set to his face. She sensed that he was feeling the same things as her, regret at refusing her, a sense of moving apart. He didn't want this any more than she did. She was about to apologise again to him when he opened his lips to speak. She was almost sure that he was going to apologise to her for refusing her. Then walk back to his room to suffer. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (4 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


"Call Bradley," he whispered to her instead of the expected apology. She heard his feet as he moved away from her room. She thought she heard him moving down the stairs, towards the lower floors. Suddenly she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She didn't want to drive Darren away by asking things that made him uncomfortable. Bradley wasn't worth that. It wasn't worth an afternoon of experience and pleasure. She nearly called Darren back, but she again felt the throbs of anticipation between her thighs. Darren would understand, and perhaps ask her a harder favour someday. She'd do her best to help him when he did. She swore it, no matter what he asked. She'd still give him a chance to back out of this, though. She owed him that. She paused for a few moments, gathering her courage. She had to steel herself to ignore the residual sadness and heartache she felt for Darren. It wasn't easy, but she managed to fight it off, determined to feel it later instead of now. There were other things to do, and not much time. Darren would understand, he always did. She picked up the phone sitting on her bedside table. It buzzed insistently in her ear until she dialled the number that she had memorised so many months ago. Bradley picked up with a gruff greeting. "Hi, Bradley. Guess whose parents are away," she spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. His voice seemed distracted. "Um. Yours? Mine are downstairs." "Yes, silly. Want to come over?" she continued almost as though she hadn't heard his reply. He seemed to be missing the point here. "I've kind of got plans." Shit, she thought. Why can't my plans ever turn out simple for me? It isn't the world I'm asking. First Darren's reluctance, then Bradley being dense. What else could possibly go wrong? Well, nothing worth doing was ever easy. "What plans?" she asked patiently.



"Waxing my car. You can come over to help, if you want," he grudgingly offered. Christ. Was he being purposely dense? "My PARENTS aren't home. Hello?" she had to fight down the urge to scream at him. It finally dawned on him, but he was still reluctant for some reason. "Darlene. What about Darren?" Darren is supplying the surprise element, she thought to herself, her guts churning even thinking about it. "He's, uh, going out as well. Leaving in a few minutes." Bradley sighed and spoke heavily. "Alright. I'll be over soon." She couldn't understand his lack of enthusiasm but she was quite sure it would return as soon as he saw her and her surprise. "Let yourself in. It will be unlocked," she added quickly before she forgot. He hung up without a good-bye. She slowly returned the receiver to the cradle, unsure of herself and whether she actually wanted to go through with this after all. The phone call hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, but then again nothing had today. She felt a little uneasy, but wrote it off to those silly butterflies. She touched her breasts through her sweater, noting that they were heaving erratically again. Step two complete. The butterflies intensified for a moment then resumed their normal nervous fluttering. Her decision made, she settled back to wait for Darren to return. She could hear Darren moving around in the basement, digging through the old boxes in her father's workroom. She could almost see him shoving through the crates cursing at their lack of organisation. She rose off the bed and began to pull off her sweater. She wasn't shy of her body, never had been. Darren had seen her nude many times, and she him. If her parents weren't at home she never bothered with modesty if she had to take a shower, or was simply lounging about. It seemed natural to her. They'd been naked in the womb together, after all. What did she really have to hide? But this time she sighed and lowered the base of the sweater before it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (6 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


revealed her breasts. She was going to give Darren one more chance to back out, and it wouldn't be fair if she was sitting here nude when she gave him that chance. She forced herself to be patient. In minutes she heard his motions clomping up the stairs. She held her breath until he appeared in the doorway carrying some items in his hands. His face looked pained, but he stood in her doorway trying to be strong for her. "Darren? You don't have to do this. I promise I won't be disappointed." "I'm just worried about you. At least let me stay in the house?" he pleaded. "Yeah, and Bradley won't do anything then," her voice was accusing though she desperately tried to control it. She forced herself to look at Darren. "I didn't mean ..." he stammered, taken aback a little by her sudden ire. He sensed it more than most people would have, she actually had done a decent job of burying it. "I know. If you don't want to do this, that's alright. I'll find some other way to keep him amused. I already phoned Bradley," she spoke softly, more gently, her voice apologising for her earlier tone. She honestly hadn't meant to snap at him. She was on edge a little. Darren looked at his sister. It was so hard to tell that they were twins. She was so small and delicate. He was tall and strong. Her hair, long and chestnut brunette curled gently over her shoulders. His hair was course, short and beach blonde. His face was rugged, hers feminine and soft. Male and female - fraternal twins. No reason for them to look the same. Why they had the same eyes was a mystery to both of them. But they cherished the qualities they shared. Her eyes were looking at him now, intense and full of her desires. "I'll be alright," she whispered to him. It seemed to make him more accepting of it, and he entered the room. He showed her what he had in his hands. "Will these be alright?" he asked.



She nodded, trying to control those pesky unwelcome butterflies. "You ready?" she asked quietly. He watched her as he nodded. "Are you?" In answer, she completed the manoeuvre she had started earlier. Her sweater fell from her body in one fluid motion, fluttering to lay on the carpet. She had dressed casually on a Saturday, no bra. He made no comment on her firm body. Being her brother, he was somewhat immune to her sexuality, though he knew exactly how desirable she would be to anyone else. She stood and slipped her jeans down her legs. No panties either. She had been ready for this. She smiled and pirouetted for him, even though she was well aware that he was immune to her nudity. She wouldn't have been doing this otherwise. He whistled in mock admiration and waited for her to settle herself. She pulled off her socks with her toes and took a deep breath. She lowered herself slowly to the bed, spreading herself out, reaching for the bedposts with her bare toes and fingers. Darren sat down on the bed beside her. From the pillows, she watched his face. He seemed to be in a dilemma. He wanted to chastise her for being dangerous, and yet didn't want to condemn her for her choices. He was at a loss for words, she could tell by the tiny dimple forming in his left cheek. She nearly spoke some words to reassure him, but nothing came to mind. How? She was old enough, his age, to make these decisions about her own body herself. Anything she said would only make him feel more guilty. She kept silent and waited patiently for him to either say something or do what she had asked. He leaned over her body and began to wrap her right wrist with the soft cord he'd dug up in the workshop. Without looking at her, he moved around the bed and secured her other limbs to the bedposts. She tested each restraint, ensuring that she could neither reach the knots nor pull free. The butterflies multiplied as she realised just how vulnerable she was. She was open, and naked, and helpless. Tiny shivers and thrills pulsed down her body as she imagined Bradley's face as he walked in. She pulled idly at the ropes and looked up to see Darren staring at her. She flushed a bit, but only at his scrutiny. She was used to being seen naked. He spoke quietly, shaking his head. "Sis. I hope you know what http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (8 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


you're doing." She looked so small and helpless lying there. His eyes betrayed his emotional state. How could he protect when she was like this? She felt his dismay and felt badly for him. How else could she do this with any semblance of safety, though? She'd wracked her brain but this is ultimately what she'd wanted. "I do, Darren. I know what I'm doing. Bradley will let me go when we're done. He would never hurt me. And he'll be here soon. What are you going to do?" She forced her voice to be strong and sure for Darren. He seemed to need the reassurance. "Maybe dinner and a movie with Beth," he replied quietly. The twinkle in his eye said that dinner and a movie could easily be only the beginning. "Have fun," she smiled up at him waving her trapped fingers. "I will. You take care. Last chance ..." he cautioned her. "I'll be fine. Enjoy your movie," she tried to reassure him. He bent and kissed her chastely on her cheek. She tried to give him one back, but he'd moved away and she couldn't follow. She heard her bedroom door closing and then a few minutes later the front door closing. The house was silent around her. She again tested her bondage, wondering what drove her to do this. She fantasised about it nearly every night. Being restrained, being totally helpless. Where do these fantasies come from? At least she trusted Bradley to not hurt her. She smiled as she considered what his face would look like when he saw her. *** She couldn't see her clock radio. It was angled away from her, and she couldn't exactly reach out to turn it towards her. Bradley was taking a long time. She squirmed on the bed. What if he didn't show up? What if someone *else* showed up. The front door was unlocked. Shit, she hadn't thought of that. Her heat intensified. She didn't want to be raped, but fantasies flew unasked for through her mind. She squirmed a bit more, trying to reach the knots her brother had tied. She couldn't and realised it was a lost cause. She'd told him to make it so she couldn't get



free. She was stuck here until someone let her go. She just hoped that it would be Bradley. She tried to settle herself a little more comfortably to wait. She tried to amuse herself by closing her eyes and picturing the sky. The outdoors. She pictured her nude body bound hand and foot to a tree while a hot wind gently caressed her. It didn't help with her arousal, but it helped her pass the time. Bradley should have been here by now, dammit. A vague noise broke her concentration. A car? A knock? Someone breaking a window? Dammit, she hadn't been paying enough attention while in her erotic daydream. She held herself still, straining her ears to pick up the slightest noise. The front door suddenly opened sounding like a cannon through the silent house. She had to bite back a scream. Who the hell was it? Bradley? Her parents? Darren? A burglar? She held her tongue, not daring to cry out. She was so damn vulnerable. Why had she done this? Her arousal was beginning to fade with her fear. Not much, but she felt the constant heat between her legs diminish a little as she strained to detect the slightest vibration in the house. "Darlene?" It was Bradley's voice floating through the quiet house. She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. She kept quiet, hoping that he'd be smart enough to come up to her room. It wasn't as though she'd been subtle on the phone. "Darlene? Damn it?" his voice called more urgently. A trace of anger tinged his voice this time. She whispered, "Up here." She quickly realised that he couldn't hear her if she whispered. She cleared her throat. "Bradley?" she called in a stronger voice. "I'm up here." "Come down. I'm here," Bradley shouted up from the bottom of the stairs. "Come up here," she responded back trying to put a sexy waver into her voice. She didn't think she'd succeeded with the waver, but at least she'd tried. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (10 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


"Damn it, Darlene, we have to talk. Come down here," Bradley sounded exasperated downstairs. Her mind flipped into overdrive. Have to talk? Shit ... no good conversation ever started out like that. The last thing she wanted to do was talk. "Bradley? Please? Come up here. I can't come down right now," she called out. She tried to put an authoritative note into her voice. She didn't feel particularly authoritative the way she was, naked and bound. Great time to want to talk, Bradley. Don't let him leave. Please? She heard him muttering as he began to climb the stairs. Closer and closer. She felt her body quivering. She couldn't stop it. Her arousal was back, and she couldn't wait to see his face as he saw her like this. She couldn't remember if she'd ever felt this aroused before. Her nipples were like chips of stone which she couldn't reach. Almost in slow motion, her door knob gently turned and the door swung open. Bradley stood there, the sight of Darlene naked and tied to the bed stunning him. His mouth dropped in a cartoon-like gesture. Darlene giggled as she pictured him using a hand to prop back up his jaw. She squirmed in a way that she hoped was inviting, pulling against her restraints, wiggling her breasts as best she could. "My hero, come to rescue me!" she giggled at him. The butterflies again had disappeared as the moment of truth had come and gone. Bradley was here, he hadn't panicked, and there was no turning back now. He'd definitely seen her. He actually did push his jaw up with his hand, almost absentmindedly. He stepped into the room, his face a mask of concern. Darlene giggled even more at his gesture. She felt giddy and aroused. God, what if he sucked on her toes? She couldn't stop him, and she felt sharp spikes of arousal running down her spine as she lay there and considered it.



He swallowed and spoke quietly from the centre of the room. "Are ... are you alright?" he asked her. "I'm fine, silly. What did you think?" she spoke from the bed. "Who? Never mind. I think I know. Why, Darlene?" he asked her quietly. "For you. For me. I wanted to surprise you," the naked girl squirmed a little in her ropes wondering if perhaps she'd made a mistake. Wasn't it every guy's fantasy to have his girlfriend helpless for his affections? She was sensing something odd from Bradley, something she hadn't ever sensed consciously before. Not danger ... he wasn't going to hurt her. Or was he? She tingled again. Bradley bowed his head and sat down heavily on the floor, exactly where Darren had sat earlier. Completely out of reach. "Darlene. I ..." his voice trailed off. "Shhhh. Just come here and touch me. Okay?" Darlene whispered. "I ... I can't," Bradley seemed miserable. "Excuse me? I'm here. Hello? Naked, willing female, tied to her bed?" Darlene couldn't quite understand this reaction. She was prepared for rejection. If he just wanted to release her and then make love, she would have been fine with that. She'd prefer being tied down for it, but simply being helpless this long had aroused her enough. She'd even been prepared for condemnation. Why was the lummox just sitting there when she was up here, willing and able? Didn't make sense. "Perhaps it's better this way," he remarked almost casually. "Huh?" she couldn't think of a more intelligent answer. She was getting a really bad feeling about this. She could sense it. Didn't take women's intuition to see that this wasn't going according to plan. She couldn't even rise off the bed to find out what the matter with him was. She pulled at her bound ankles. "Darlene?" he seemed at a loss for words. He never was at a loss for words. There was only one reason for his hesitation and she knew what it was. Somehow, she simply knew. She'd been through this http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (12 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


before, though never tied down naked to a bed. Her heart began to beat faster than her arousal had previously driven it. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. "Please no. Not like this," Darlene raised her head, trying to see Bradley more clearly. He wasn't looking at her. "Darlene? I ... I appreciate this. More than you can know. And I really wish that I could take advantage of you like that. But I can't," he spoke with regret filling his words. "Bradley? Let me go? Come untie me and we'll talk," the inevitability of talk was sinking into her. She didn't want to talk, especially not about what she feared this was about. But she couldn't do anything about it if he truly wanted to talk to her. May as well accept it, for now. Maybe she could still reason with him. The insistent throbbing was still buried between her thighs where she had no hope of reaching without his help. He took a deep breath and sat still, not making the move she had suggested. The damn ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. God, how could she have been so dumb? How could she have let herself be so vulnerable? So helpless? Christ. Why hadn't she worn old clothes at least? Something he could have cut off her if it all worked out? At least she'd be clothed now. Who had these kinds of talks when you are defenceless and naked? She was at a loss, completely off balance mentally. "I ... we have to talk, Darlene. We do. I tried to tell you earlier," Bradley's voice began earnestly. Tears came in a rush to her face. She lay back her head into the pillows. Not much she could do about this if he wouldn't untie her. Tears of frustration had formed in her eyes. All her previous arousal had finally faded to a slight pulse between her legs. She felt cheated and frustrated. Even her sensitive nipples had flattened on her still heaving bare breasts. "Bradley, please untie me," Darlene spoke to the ceiling. She knew what was going to happen, and it was probably inevitable, but she couldn't do anything about it while tied to this damn bed. She fought down a flash of anger. Anger wasn't going to get her anywhere, either.



"It's better if you are like that. Do you want me to cover you?" he asked gently. Anger welled up again at his suggestion. "I want you to untie me," she struggled again unsuccessfully for the authoritative hint in her voice. Her words came out like a pleading whine, at least to her ears. She pulled ineffectually at her bonds, chafing her wrists. "If I do, then you'll hug me and kiss me and try to make me change my mind. And I will. I won't be able to help it. But it's not right. I'll untie you after we talk. Okay?" he almost pleaded with her. She held her anger in check, pulling again at her wrists. She shook her head. It wasn't okay, but there wasn't much she could do about it. The bitch of it was, he was right. She would do everything he said she would to avoid a disagreement. Then, she'd never know what this really was about. Maybe she could salvage this. She'd listen to him, and she'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear, as she should have done from the moment she had telephoned him to begin this mess. She just hoped that it wasn't about what she thought it was. She unconsciously tried to turn towards him, but her left wrist and ankle prevented that. She turned her head, seeing his face over her right arm. "Darlene ... we ... God, this is hard. We can't see each other anymore," he spoke in a whisper so low she wasn't even sure she'd heard correctly. Maybe she simply didn't want to hear it. Even though she'd been expecting it, she suddenly felt insecure, helpless to stop it. It was a tidal wave of emotion washing over her and she couldn't even move to avoid it. Her heart skipped a beat. She loved Bradley, or she thought she did. How couldn't he love her back? She forced back the tears and tried to speak in a normal voice. Weird situation, normal voice. "Was it this?" He looked up, confused. She saw his confusion and raised her right wrist as far as the ropes allowed. She wanted to make sure it wasn't this display that had spooked him, though she knew in her heart that it wasn't. She'd been sensing this for a week or so, and unconsciously thought that this sexual stunt might pull him back to her. She wanted it too, with all her heart, but she wouldn't have risked it yet if she hadn't been sensing a withdrawal from him http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (14 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


lately. Realisation of her behaviour flooded over her with the clarity of a biblical revelation. She felt ashamed that she'd not realised sooner. Like before she'd fallen into this mess. He smiled weakly. "Darlene, it isn't that. Actually, in other circumstances, I'd be all over you." She felt a tingle race through her body at his words. She shivered, not wanting to feel that way right now. "What then?" she spoke quietly to him. "I do love you ..." he began quietly. She felt like screaming at him, "Then what's the damn problem?" but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It would only make him hate her. She swallowed as his voice trailed off. She found her voice as it trembled from her throat. "Someone else?" He nodded miserably. She felt betrayed. She'd been seeing him for over a year. Sure it was a high school romance, but dammit she deserved some loyalty. Look what she'd done for him. What other girl would tie herself to a bed for him? She pulled in frustration at the ropes holding her. Maybe it was best that she was tied down. She would have slapped him. Maybe he deserved it, maybe not. But either way slapping him would have been wrong. It wasn't as though he'd ravaged her and *then* told her. For once he was actually trying to be a gentleman. His only fault was that he just wouldn't untie her. Hot tears ran down her face as she struggled to control her raging emotions. If he would just untie her. "Please Bradley. Untie me," she pleaded through her tears. "Darlene, I'm sorry." She couldn't tell if he was sorry for not untying her or sorry about his betrayal. She sighed as she fell back into the pillows under her head. She wanted up from this bed. She wanted her clothes. She wanted Bradley back. Part of her was telling her good riddance, but most of her was aching. "Who is she?" Darlene asked again to the ceiling.



There was a silence from the man she thought she knew so well. She squirmed around after a few minutes, again trying to adjust her position. So shamelessly open. "Bradley? Who is she?" she repeated quietly. "I ... I can't." "I'll know eventually, and I promise I won't do anything stupid," she whispered as tears again overtook her senses. "You won't know," he mumbled. She licked her lips. "I have to know. I deserve to know." But she didn't want to know. Not really. "It's not just someone else, Darlene. You'll be going to university next year. I won't. You'll meet new people. I ... I can't do long distance relationships. You knew that." I didn't, Darlene thought to herself bitterly. Do you think I'd have put myself in this position if I had known that? She took a deep breath. "Why now, Bradley? Why with me like this? Please untie me," she pulled again at her bound ankles in frustration. "I tried, Darlene. I thought we'd be alone without your parents. I didn't know you'd be like that. I just wanted to talk to you. I tried ..." his voice trailed off as though he was ashamed of keeping her like this. Darlene sighed. He was right. She'd put herself into this. He was simply taking advantage of it. He wasn't leering at her or anything. He was just taking advantage of having her immobile to talk to her. She was well known for avoiding an argument. How many guys would give their eye teeth to break up with a captive female? No worries about being slapped. Plus, she had to listen to him, like it or not. "Who is she?" she repeated through her tears. At least she wasn't sobbing. Instead, big fat tears slowly rolled down her face. She couldn't stop them. She couldn't wipe at them. They simply rolled slowly and unheeded down her cheeks. Bradley ignored the question, continuing in hushed tones. "And we http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (16 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


aren't quite right for one another. I'm ... I'm not sure I'm in love with you anymore." "I still love you," Darlene spoke almost by instinct and without hesitation. She thought she did still love him. A part of her did, anyway. "But that isn't enough, Dar. Don't you see that?" Bradley implored her. She did. She didn't want to, but she could see that. Her love wasn't enough to build a relationship. He had to love her, too. She couldn't love for the both of them. She'd been blind, just like Darren had been trying to tell her. When was she going to learn to trust Darren? If she'd listened to him, instead of forcing the issue, she wouldn't be tied to this damn bed. These words had been coming for a while, and she'd been ignoring the warning signs and avoiding the issues with Bradley. Just like she always did. Darren had seen it. He just didn't know when it would happen. He'd probably seen it a year ago. He'd tried to warn her and she hadn't listened. She cried for a while silently on the bed. Bradley sat and tried not to look at the girl he'd loved. Darlene knew that he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but these things hurt. No matter if the girl was tied to a bed and frustrated, or not. She turned her head, sensing that this was it. It was over. Completely. Irresistibly. Over. There was nothing more she could do. She would accept that, given time. "Bradley?" she called quietly. He looked up at her face. "Who is she? The other girl?" she pleaded. For some reason it was important to her. She wanted to know as much as she didn't.



She half expected to hear that it was her best friend. That would have capped off this lovely afternoon. He spoke quietly, flushed. "His name is Adrian. You don't know him." Her mind whirled at the words, not quite understanding, but understanding too well. She'd caught him a number of times looking too fiercely at a guy on the street - guys she'd look at if she'd seen them first or wasn't with Bradley. It made sense now. She knew that somewhere deep inside herself, had she been looking at a woman that way what it would mean. But she hadn't seen it. Hadn't guessed. Hadn't realised. God, at least she'd protected herself when Bradley and her had first ... oh God. Bradley rose to his feet and walked over to her. He tried to keep his eyes on her face but didn't quite succeed. She felt a hot flush rising over her as he approached. "I loved you, Darlene. And I didn't want to hurt you. I never cheated on you," he spoke as softly as a summer breeze. She still loved his voice. She swallowed. He'd hurt her badly. But she'd survive. She always had survived before. Her tears fell hard down her face and into her hair and the pillow beneath. She wanted to curl up, to forget about today, to lie in the dark, make it go away, and cry all night. She couldn't even bring her arms in to hug herself. Bradley bent and softly kissed her wet cheek. "But I love him more," he whispered into her ear. She felt his fingers scrabbling at her wrist, attempting to let her free finally from her bonds. She swallowed, a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away. Her brain wasn't functioning properly. "Just go," she whispered. He continued to work at Darren's knots. She tried to pull her hand away from his touch and succeeded in only tugging the knots from his fumbling fingers. "Bradley? Just go. Please?" she begged through her tears. She didn't want him to see her like this any longer. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (18 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


He rose silently to his feet, looking one last time into her tear streaked face. "Are you going to he alright?" he asked. She nodded. "Somebody will untie me. Probably Darren. I don't care. Just go." He turned one last time, asking a different question with the same words, "Are you going to be alright?" "I hope so," she responded in a whisper before the tears that she couldn't wipe away flowed from her eyes again. She vaguely heard the front door close quietly in the silent house as she lay on her bed and wept. *** She'd regained some sanity after a few more hours stuck on her bed. She had enough sense to try and hope that Darren showed up before her parents. God, how would she explain this? She wished that she'd let Bradley release her. She wished for so many things that she ached. She pulled for the millionth time at the cords holding her down. What a stupid, stupid idea. But she didn't regret it. Not really. She at least had time to think. She lay there, feeling her bed, feeling her helplessness, aware of her body. Her face, dirty and tear streaked, stared up at her ceiling in the fading light. Afternoon was quickly fading to evening. The phone had rung twice since Bradley had left. She idly wondered who it had been. Her parents? Darren? Or Bradley? She mentally shrugged. Not much she could do about it. They'd leave a message if it was important. She would regret it if she'd missed a call from Bradley, but perhaps it was for the best. Her arms ached from her immobility, and her feet had fallen asleep a while ago. What if nobody came by to release her? What if Darren and her parents stayed out all night? She felt fatalistic and helpless lying there. Not much else she could do. They'd come home eventually. She just hoped that it was Darren, first.



She closed her eyes and dozed, fending off another wave of grief. *** The soft closing of the front door woke her from a hazy dream of flowers and hay. A summer rainstorm had been approaching and, someone, she couldn't remember who, was waiting for her in the hay. Her mind was still a little foggy. Linda? She didn't know anyone named Linda. She held her breath, hoping beyond hope that the front door had been Darren. It was pitch dark in the room. Her night vision hadn't kicked in yet and night had fallen while she had slept. In other circumstances she might have fantasised a blindfold and been aroused, but now the darkness was simply frightening. She glanced over. Her bedroom door was wide open; she could see the soft glow of the night light her parents kept in the main bathroom through the open doorway. Bradley hadn't closed her bedroom door on his way out. If it was her parents she'd have some explaining to do. If it was a burglar, well not much she could do about that either. Prepare to be raped. She shuddered at the thought. Her earlier fantasies were far less palatable in the middle of the night. The front door had been shut with care to be silent. Still could be anyone. It was only because she'd been in a light doze that she'd awakened at all. She couldn't tell if it was one set of feet or two climbing the stairs. Her parents? Her brother? Someone more sinister? A male form silhouetted in her door frame. Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned the big dark-clothed break-and-enter artist who wouldn't hesitate to break and enter her. She shuddered. She didn't want to be raped. She silently prayed to herself and bit back her voice that wanted to scream out in terror. A tiny moan escaped her throat. "Darlene? You awake?" a male voice spoke quietly. It took her a moment to place the whisper. She tried to calm her hammering heart. She swallowed and nodded. Realising that her nod couldn't be seen in the dim glow of the clock radio and the bathroom night light, she whispered instead. "I'm awake." He stepped into the room quietly. She could hear his stocking feet whispering against her carpet. She flexed her numb toes. She was thirsty beyond belief.



"Oh my God. You're still tied there?" Darren whispered to her as he settled onto her bed. She nodded. This time he was close enough to see her. She couldn't see well in this light but her night vision was improving the longer her eyes remained open. His night vision was probably improving as well. "What happened?" he asked urgently as his fingers found her right wrist. "I knew this was ..." She cut him off from saying the equivalent of "I told you so." "Bradley broke up with me," she spoke quietly. Her words again brought tears to her eyes and this time she began to sob as she hadn't allowed herself to since Bradley had left her. Darren's fingers abandoned her wrist leaving her bound. He gathered her into his arms as best he could and hugged her tight. "I'm so sorry, Sis. I may not have liked him, but I knew he was important to you." She cried on his shirt until her shoulders ached so much that she had to lower herself back to the bed. She wanted out of the ropes, wanted to be held properly. She lay still while he released her. It didn't take long, even though he left her bedroom lights off and had to work some of the knots through by feel alone. She sat up crying, reaching for her brother. He moved to get up. "Please? Where are you going?" she asked quietly through her tears. Her voice betrayed her concern that she'd disappointed him so much that he was going to leave her, the same as Bradley had. She accepted it, couldn't blame him, but it made her cry even worse. She felt so terribly alone. "Just getting you a robe," his soft voice came from above her. She reached and pulled his sleeve. In the darkness he couldn't see her anyway. And she didn't care. She'd been nude the entire day. She wasn't shy. She wanted to be held now more than she wanted clothing. She cried out softly as feeling began to return to her numb hands and feet.



He settled back to the bed and let her melt into his strong arms. He gently stroked her hair as she cried, letting her soak the shoulder of his rugby shirt with her hot tears. They rocked silently together for an hour or so, words unnecessary, until she finally sighed and squirmed out of his arms. She was mostly cried out. There simply weren't any more tears. She knelt up on the bed facing him, knees pressed tightly together, her hands clasped together in her lap. "You were right," she whispered. "It was a dumb thing to do." "He didn't ..." Darren began awkwardly. She shook her head. "But he left you like that? Jesus Christ. I'll tear him limb from limb." His voice was full of anger and hurt. He couldn't understand, couldn't imagine what Darlene had been through this unusual afternoon. Rage seethed behind his eyes at Bradley. How could he have done something like that? "Darren. You can't. You can't hurt him. He tried to untie me. I wouldn't let him," she softly explained. Darlene watched silently as the sudden anger faded behind his face. His face became softer and more concerned for her. Darren just stared at his sister as his anger faded. She'd never cease to surprise him. Here she was protecting the guy that had just dumped and rejected her. Despite her trembling, her inner strength was ... admirable. "I. I wasn't exactly thinking straight. It was my fault," Darlene continued with regret in her voice. She could see his remorse flashing across his open features. She wasn't quick enough to prevent him from speaking softly. "I'm so sorry, Darlene. I shouldn't have left you." For perhaps the first time in their lives, he'd failed her. He hadn't been there to protect her when she had desperately needed him. His voice was brimming with his regrets. Darren leaned forward and kissed Darlene gently on her wet cheek. She was still crying gently, but most of it was out of her system. She wiped gently at her eyes, finally having the freedom to do so. She kissed his cheek softly, accepting his apology though it wasn't http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (22 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


required or expected as far as she was concerned. Her eyes felt heavy from the tears that still leaked slowly from them. She felt drained, emotionally and physically. "You need some sleep, kiddo," he remarked gently as he held her. "I've been resting and sleeping all day. What time is it?" she asked. "3:30 in the morning." "Excuse me?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "3:30 in the morning," he repeated, turning her clock radio and pointing at it glowing in the darkness. Sure enough, it winked out '3:28 AM' at her in dim red digits. "Oh my God. Where's Mom and Dad?" "Asleep in their room, I guess," Darren spoke softly. "As we ought to be." "You're kidding." They had to pass her room to get to theirs. They couldn't help but see their daughter naked and roped to her bed. Her door had been wide open. Why hadn't they woken her and freed her? "Have you ever known them to be out later than midnight?" he ventured. He didn't want to upset Darlene, but he couldn't lie to her either. The parents were home. No doubt about it. Their car had been in the driveway as he had quietly walked in. "Christ," she swore to herself. "We'll deal with it tomorrow, if there is anything to deal with. Go to bed. Okay? Things will look better in the morning," Darren tried to reassure her. She reluctantly crawled between the covers that she'd laid upon most of the day. She realised with a start that she was cold, her nipples aching as they touched the cool sheets. She didn't bother with her night-gown. Her family respected her privacy as long as her door was closed. Even Darren knocked. She pulled the covers up to her chin and curled up like a kitten.



Darren tucked the sheets around her body. Again, he kissed her cheek, softly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Me too," she answered as he slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly. *** She hadn't done this for years. But she couldn't sleep. The tears wouldn't stop and she didn't want to cry herself to sleep again. She had to distract herself, somehow. She felt her fingers trailing over her bare skin, igniting her through her tears. Her nipples, aroused despite her weariness and sadness reacted to her soft pinches. She knew what and where to touch herself despite her long absence from this simple pleasure. She gasped quietly as her fingers found her soft, firm, moist lower lips. She wasn't very surprised that she was aroused down there either. Her finger found her clitoris, swollen and ready for her touch. She slowly circled herself, caressing her breasts softly while her middle finger slowly stroked sensually between her legs and deep inside. Shivering, she tilted her head back and arched her body as though accepting a lover. Her mind was filled with images of her bound to the bed all afternoon, her danger, her vulnerability, her helplessness, her absolute trust. She had been stupid, she knew that, but she was still here, inviolate, alive and well. She'd learned something about herself. She silently sent up a thank-you to the angels who had watched over her today. Her breathing slowly increased as she teased herself. She knew her own rhythms and knew her point of release. She held herself there, relishing her freedom but still feeling the soft constricting ropes against her wrists and ankles. She concentrated on her light dancing finger tips, on her hardened nipples, on her soft belly, on her aching centre. Her mind exploded in a thousand blue lights as her climax crashed over her. She struggled to control her voice, not wanting to wake the house with unbridled cries of passion. She pressed her hand over her mouth to help. Her fingers continued to stimulate her senses until the last involuntary muscle contraction had taken her. She finally collapsed exhausted back into the pillows, letting out her breath and moaning quietly to herself. As the relaxation and peace from her climax flowed over her body she knew that she'd be fine. She'd go on, and there would be a tomorrow. She still felt the loss, but it would fade. Her consciousness faded http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/UnusualAfternoon.html (24 of 26)8/15/2005 12:10:24 AM


and she fell into a restless sleep. *** "You were home late," her father remarked at the breakfast table. There was only a slight edge of accusation in his voice. She was getting too old to baby any longer. It was getting to the point that she could make mature decisions on her own, at least in his eyes. The rope marks had faded from her wrists and ankles as she had slept, only a faint red mark betrayed her activities of the previous afternoon. Her eyes glued to her right wrist and the faint red line there as her fingers grasped her cereal spoon tightly. In a quick flash of irritation she almost snapped that she'd been home before Darren - that she'd never even left the house. She almost remarked that he'd been the one to wander in at 2:30 in the morning, not her. She caught a quick mischievous smile from her brother across the table. She took a deep breath and shot him a glance of malice. Why he always got away with being late, she'd never figure out. They were the same age after all. Because he was male. She knew that it was inevitable to be treated differently. As a female she was more vulnerable? It wasn't fair. But she hadn't exactly proven the point yesterday. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she replied quietly. She slowly realised that her parents had assumed that her darkened room had been empty. Perhaps it had been. She wanted to forget yesterday's unusual afternoon, but she knew that she never would. Darren smiled gently at her when their father glanced back at his paper. Tears threatened again, but this time she willed them back.


© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon All rights reserved This site and its content are protected by copyright statutes. Please enjoy the stories here freely, but permission in writing is required from the author to redistribute any of the contents or parts thereof under all circumstances. The author may be contacted via e-mail at


Chosen - Crimson Dragon

Chosen © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Chosen (MF, FF, cons, spirit, outdoors, exh) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - July 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== As she stared intently into the crackling flames, she felt the stirrings of the spirits as though they had awakened only for her senses. She rose slowly to her bare feet, the wonders of life rushing through her. She was named, in the tongue of the ancients, Fawn of the Moonlight Rising. It was a good name, a powerful name. She was born the chieftain's only daughter and he had named her. Her appearance was unusual at the fire. She rarely deigned to participate in the tribal meetings; she always caused a rippling of conversation and distraction merely by her presence and it was not necessary that she be there. Tonight, she felt compelled. The spirits had called her at last, as the full moon rose brightly over the treetops. It was her time. She was the first and only fair-haired child in living memory. Her golden hair marked her a goddess to some, though she knew that she was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (1 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


not. Her tanned skin flickered in the dancing illumination of the flames. It would be this night, she could feel it deep in her soul. She had waited twenty winters and summers for this evening. The spirits buoyed her as her body gently moved to the rhythms of the ancient dance. She moved slowly and sensually around the fire, twisting her body, her fair hair flowing about her shoulders like the gentle rapids in the river over the hill. Her bare feet whispered across the sand. The mists and the smoke swirled around her whirling form transforming her from woman to an opaque goddess of the night. Entranced, the shadowy figures gathered around the communal fire watched her as she moved revealing her soul. She carried the precious stone of the dance, its deep blue fire burning coolly against her fingertips. She didn't know who the stone would pick for her, but she knew whoever it was would be forever her soulmate. Her Chosen. It was the way. *** Bree zipped her pack closed with a sigh. Dave had told her to pack light, and truthfully she had. It was just that it was her debut on the camping scene, and she didn't quite know what she would need, therefore she needed to pack for every eventuality. It didn't make it any easier that she didn't know what the sleeping arrangements would be, and she was too afraid of being presumptuous to ask. All she knew was that she was heading to an old abandoned tree farm that Dave's family had owned for generations. It was only for one night, she reminded herself. She thought that she could handle one night in the semi-wilderness. After she had patted the bulging pack, she settled herself onto the edge of the bed. She opened her nightstand drawer and let her fingers slide slowly over the satin buried within like treasure. She'd bought the satin teddy for tonight. At the time, she'd thought that she'd be alone with Dave here, not out in some mosquito infested wilderness. Worse, Chet and Natasha would be there. She didn't want the first time with Dave to have an audience. Much as she liked Chet, it just didn't seem right. Not at all. And she had never even met Natasha. Even if they weren't all sharing a single tent, there would only be a thin layer of nylon between her and the world. And she knew that she wasn't the quietest lover in the world. She took a deep breath and closed the drawer without removing the teddy. Dave hadn't known what he was giving up when he had suggested the camping trip. She sighed and felt the tingles begin as her thoughts turned to Dave. She'd only been dating him for three weeks, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (2 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


but he was the one. She felt it deep in her heart. He was her soulmate. She was hunting through her jewelry box when she heard the quick beep of the horn from below. She quickly grabbed some gold sleepers and her sapphire ring from the box without further thought. The box snapped shut as she hurried towards the window. If he was taking her to the middle of nowhere, he'd have to put up with her the way she was. No fancy makeup. No fancy jewelry. She slipped the ring over her right ring finger and was pushing the earrings into her ears as she lifted the window sash. Another quick beep of the horn sounded from below. "Hold your shorts," she called laughingly down to Dave as she leaned out the window. "I'm coming already." She thought she heard something suspiciously sounding like "typical female" emerge jokingly from his lips as she shut the window with a bang. Dave smiled up at the window as it rattled closed and began walking to the front door. She picked up her pack and began to walk quickly out of the room. She hesitated at the doorway and then turned, running back to her nightstand. She lifted the new fabric from its hiding place and pushed it into the pack. Typical female, indeed, she thought to herself as she thundered down the stairs to greet Dave properly. *** "Chet and Natasha are going to meet us there?" she asked quietly into the silence of the car. "Yeah," Dave replied, glad of having something to say finally. The drive so far had been quiet. Awkwardly so. Normally, the two of them talked easily, but Bree seemed preoccupied with something, her thoughts elsewhere. He continued, "They couldn't meet with us. Natasha had something to do. I don't know. Chet said they might even arrive before us." "What's she like?" she asked. "Pretty. Dark hair. Tall. Nice figure. But I didn't notice. Chet told me." Dave grinned knowing he was in trouble for the description. "Chet's pretty head over heels for her." Bree flushed, feeling slightly jealous as Dave described Natasha. Chet she had known for years, and she could see him head over heels with

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (3 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


almost anyone. He fell for the ladies hard. In fact, every girl but her. And Natasha seemed like his type, at least physically. "I meant, is she nice? Will I get along with her?" Bree bristled a little despite her attempt to keep her voice under control. "Hey. I'm sorry," Dave was quick to pick up on Bree's tones. "I haven't met her more than once myself. I don't know. If not, it's only one night." Dave replied a little defensively. Bree took a supposed to was feeling at her like

deep breath. She didn't want to fight with Dave. This was be a fun trip. She just didn't like long car rides and she some of her childhood motion sickness returning. It nagged a mosquito bite. Not serious, but annoying.

She spoke quietly in apology, "I'm sorry, Dave. I ... I guess I'm just tired." She leaned over the console, stretching her seatbelt between her breasts and kissed Dave lightly on the cheek. He smiled and flicked on the indicator. Concentrating on the road, he failed to notice the silence descend onto the interior of the car again. Bree fought with her impulse to ask about the tenting arrangements, but didn't quite allow herself to inquire. She was sure that it would be comfortable enough. Dave was usually thoughtful of her privacy. She'd find out soon anyway. Patience wasn't her strong suit, though. She sat still, fighting down the faint nausea. The farms whisked by them as the miles droned on. *** They arrived in the early afternoon. The car pulled into an isolated driveway throwing up dust in a huge white cloud. Bree had long ago closed her eyes and cracked her window in a vain attempt to clear her system. The nausea had increased to a throbbing sensation deep in her stomach. It was all she could think about. All she wanted was to stop and breathe fresh air, make the nausea stop. She felt like she was five again, afraid to ask her father to stop the car, afraid of being sick in front of people, afraid of being weak. She especially didn't want to be sick in front of Dave. It was childish. She knew Dave would understand, but she was determined to fight it anyway. The car finally stopped and she opened her eyes. She immediately closed them again as a wave of dizziness crept over her. A voice that http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (4 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


seemed miles away was calling her. "Bree? Bree? Are you alright? Oh my God. Bree?" She struggled to open her eyes again. Dave was peering at her, concern across his features. She licked her lips and nodded slowly. She had to tell him now. "Just. A. Bit. Of. Motion. Sickness," she spoke slowly and quietly. She fought down the next wave of nausea. As it passed, her fingers scrabbled at the door catch. The door opened as she pushed it and she swung her legs out, cradling her head in her hands and leaning forward. At least if she was sick it wouldn't be in Dave's car. She breathed deeply, drawing the fresh air deep into her lungs. She sensed forest, and grass, and light smoke. She felt the nausea receding a little. When she opened her eyes, Dave was crouched in front of her. "What can I do? Why didn't you tell me stop?" Bree struggled with the next wave; it washed over her like a strong surf. She finally managed a smile. "I'm feeling better, now," she croaked out. Dave didn't look convinced, but he extended his hand, helping her to her feet. Her blonde hair curled around her shoulders in the slight breeze as she stood. She swayed slightly on her feet, feeling woozy. But the fresh air and getting out of that car was helping. She was standing near the edge of a small clearing. Two tire tracks led outward from the clearing, presumably the way they had entered. The forest surrounded them, tall pines and oaks all around them. Birds sang and chased through the trees. The air was crisp and clean, so unlike the city and campus she was used to. Her nausea receded a touch more. "It's gorgeous," she breathed. She watched the smile break out on Dave's face and it warmed her a little to see it. Turning, she saw two dome tents already set up. Chet was moving towards the arrivals, a big smile on his face. A tall, dark-haired girl, looking a little out of place, was standing next to a small fire feeding a small branch into the flames.



Chet barreled into Bree, almost knocking the wind out of her. She felt his arms squeezing her until she couldn't breathe. Finally, he released her. "How's my Bree Cheese?" he greeted her enthusiastically. It had been a long time since they had seen one another. A year, at least. God, she hated that nickname. She counted her lucky stars that at least Dave rarely used it. But Chet was all smiles, unaware of her distaste of what he considered a term of endearment. She caught her breath after the bear hug and managed to squeak out a few words. "I ... you're damn lucky you didn't get my breakfast all over you," she tried to feign anger, not very successfully. Chet was like a huge teddy bear, impossible to get angry at, no matter what he did. She was breathing hard, trying again to control the last vestiges of her motion sickness. It was going to take a while of stillness to calm this down completely, but she was reasonably sure that she would make it without being physically ill now that she was out of the car. She swayed again slightly, feeling dizzy. Chet looked a bit worried and turned to Dave. "She sick?" "Just a little motion sickness. She'll be alright," Dave answered quietly. Bree felt like she wasn't even there with them talking about her. All she wanted was to sit down and let this pass. She had an almost irresistible urge to sit herself down right here in the grass of the clearing. She would be fine, but, irrationally, Dave speaking for her bothered her. Why hadn't Chet asked her? She was the sick one. What the hell did Dave know? She fought down her anger, convincing herself that it was harmless. It was just the way Chet was, and it was hardly Dave's fault that Chet had asked him about her. She shrugged inwardly. Try staying angry at Chet, at least for more than three seconds. Impossible. Chet grinned and turned back to her. He was a solid man, and Bree wasn't the biggest girl in the world. Without warning, Chet swept her into his arms, easily bearing her weight. Despite herself, Bree laughed as she was carried further into the clearing.



"What the hell are you doing?" she giggled up at Chet. "Putting you to bed. You have to be awake and well for the campfire tonight." "Christ. I can walk, you know. You big lummox," she again tried for feigned anger. She balled up her small hands and hit his chest, quite ineffectively. In truth, being carried actually helped. Standing on her own was causing light vertigo. "I know," he replied as if her protests didn't matter. They probably didn't. This was Chet's chivalry. He was always doing stuff like this since they'd met when they were ten. Ten years ago. She'd known Chet for half her life already. Her mind wandered back. She'd hurt her leg in the schoolground, cut her ankle on some broken glass. Chet had carried her, just like this, back to the principal's office where they'd bandaged her up and called her mother. Chet had only moved into the neighbourhood a week previous. They hadn't known each other at all, yet he'd stayed with her until she'd been picked up by her mother. Her introduction to Chet, her bawling and him carrying her like she was a baby. She'd been thankful, then, too. Chet protected her like the sister he'd never had. They were both single children, and had naturally bonded. Though they'd moved apart a little over the years, she had always felt secure around him. "May I present Natasha, the raven-haired beauty, whom you haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet?" Chet attempted an awkward bow, failing with Bree's weight in his arms. Bree looked up. Instead of taking her to the tent, Chet had borne her to the small campfire. Bree took a deep breath, wishing she wasn't in Chet's arms for this, and extended her hand. Natasha looked a little nonplused about the introduction and Bree couldn't blame her. She'd be pissed off if Dave had introduced Natasha to her cradled in his arms. Natasha extended her hand and lightly gripped Bree's offered hand. Natasha's hand was cool and soft to the touch, imparting a certain strength. She didn't seem to be as upset as Bree would have been, had the positions been reversed. A strange tingle crossed into Bree's senses, almost like a spark from static electricity, as she released Natasha's fingers. "Bree," Bree introduced herself. "Not like the cheese, no matter what this lunk might think."



Natasha smiled, flashing her white teeth. She didn't seem overly concerned about the situation, just a little shy. Perhaps fighting a bit of jealousy. Bree knew what it was like to have an old friend usurp a position of girlfriend, no matter how harmless or platonic it was. Bree hoped that this wasn't the beginning of trouble, despite Natasha's easy demeanor. Women sensed these things better than men Chet being a case in point. She felt like pounding her small fists into him again for doing this to her. But again, the brief anger melted quickly as it always did. "Bree isn't feeling well. Too much ride, not enough stops," Chet threw a glance over his shoulder at Dave who stood slightly behind looking helpless. Bree felt bad for the poor guy; it wasn't really his fault. She hadn't said anything to him, after all. He would have stopped for her. Natasha nodded in an understanding way. The look on her face read like a book: and-that-is-why-you-have-to-be-in-my-boyfriends-arms? mixed with a small measure of concern. Bree felt like apologizing, even though she really hadn't asked for this and knew that all the squirming in the world wasn't going to get her out of Chet's arms, even had she the strength at the moment to squirm. She fought off another light wave of nausea by closing her eyes. Chet, completely oblivious to the minor tension between the girls, hulked off towards the first tent bearing Bree easily. Dave unzipped the flap, and Chet deposited his charge on the double air mattress within. "This is Dave's and your tent," he remarked unnecessarily. "Natasha and I set it up for you. Hope you like it." She tumbled out of his arms with a faint "Oof". Dave was immediately beside her. Chet disappeared through the tent flap, his duty complete; she was safe. "I'll be fine. I don't need to be in here. I can sit out by the fire," Bree protested weakly. Dave touched her lips, shushing her. "I wish you'd told me. I would have stopped for you," Dave was all concern for her. "I know. I'm just an idiot. I guess I was embarrassed. I'm sorry." She http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (8 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


felt like crying, could feel the stinging behind her eyes. It was a sudden sadness. She wasn't sure if it was because she'd hurt Dave in a small way, that she was sick, or something else completely. She controlled the tears before they surfaced. "Nothing to be sorry about. Why don't you rest? I'll wake you later if you fall asleep," Dave promised. She took stock of herself. She was feeling a lot better, her thoughts weren't only of her nausea. She could think enough to realize that she was tired. Her body ached strangely. She had a sense of change, of something life shattering about to happen. It crept around the periphery of her mind, like a ghost that she could see out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't focus on. Whatever it was, she knew she'd need her rest. She lay back her head into the pillow and closed her eyes. She felt Dave kiss her cheek gently and she heard him closing the tent flap. Mists, rhythmic music, and deer floated through the edges of her mind as she drifted blissfully into unconsciousness. *** Bree awoke with a small scream. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the next cry. She swallowed rapidly, calming her nerves. Vaguely remembered images floated through her fuzzy mind. Deer, mists, forest, sapphires. Some kind of music. And something else. That feeling of anticipation, of something impending, something out of her control. She shook herself. Just a dream. It was dark. She inventoried herself again. No nausea - her sleep had banished it completely. Her mind seemed abnormally clear. She noticed a crimson glow against the front of the tent, flickering. The campfire, she supposed. In the dim light, she could see her pack and Dave's pack placed haphazardly against the tent wall to her right. She pressed the light on her watch. No wonder she felt rested, she thought to herself. They'd let her sleep away the day and half the night. She felt alive and rested. And hungry. She slipped out from under the sleeping bag someone had covered her with, noticing thankfully that she was still dressed, though somebody



had removed her running shoes for her. She hunted around in the flickering light, mostly using her hands, and located her shoes by the front flap of the tent. She pulled them over her toes and laced them in the dark, her fingers tying the knots in the laces by habit. She slowly unzipped the tent flap. Chet, Dave and Natasha were gathered around the fire quietly talking. Dave had a beer in his hand. They all looked up as she stumbled awkwardly out of the tent. Dave rose, approaching to give her a hand. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern in his face. "I'm fine. Just hungry," she answered hesitantly. His concern wasn't completely warranted. She had just been a little motion sick. Why had they let her sleep so long? Not that she minded. "We were worried about you. Christ, you gave us a scare." "Scare? How?" she was baffled by his demeanor. "Christ. You don't remember?" "Remember what?" she was getting a little impatient at all of this. She just wanted something to eat, not some silly guessing game. Chet approached as they walked slowly towards the fire. Chet picked up the story. "You screamed around dinner time. And when Dave went to find out what was happening, you were crying. You don't remember?" "No." "You looked asleep. You were mumbling something about 'Moonlight Rising.' Or something like that," Chet continued. "You don't remember?" She didn't remember anything. She'd been told by friends that she talked in her sleep. Perhaps that was it. "I've been told I sometimes talk in my sleep," she explained. "Who told you that?" Chet asked mischievously, breaking the tension. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (10 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


She aimed a weak punch at his arm, and then grinned. "You did." She waited for the realization to hit Dave. Get him back for noticing Natasha's figure. Dave looked at Chet suspiciously and then realized it was a joke and laughed a little, but not much. He still looked worried about her. "We figured that we should let you sleep," Dave remarked. "We didn't know what else to do." Bree sat down on a log at the edge of the fire pit. She stretched her stiff body, extending her legs towards the fire. She felt sand under her running shoes. Dave and Chet left her, angling over to stir up a pot heating on a small camping stove. She was sure they were talking about her, but she couldn't make out their words. She turned away, trying to ignore the men. Bree found herself staring at Natasha while she waited for her dinner. She was a stunning girl, no wonder Chet was taken with her. She did have a nice figure. Long legs. Raven black hair. And her features were strong and sure. She looked away as Natasha returned the gaze briefly, catching her staring. "You feeling better?" Natasha asked kindly. "A lot better. These guys been boring you?" Bree responded. "Not really. Telling me about their childhood. Yours as well. At least Chet has been." "I wasn't the terror they like to make out," Bree grinned at the other girl. "I figured." Natasha smiled. She poked at the fire with a long stick. Sparks flew up into the night. Although the conversation was strained, it was only because they really didn't know one another. Natasha seemed pleasant enough. Chet sweeping Bree off her feet earlier seemed to have been forgiven, for now. Bree consciously made a decision to try and avoid another incident that might be taken badly. She didn't want tension between herself and Natasha. At least not out here where neither of them had anywhere to go. Chet handed a bowl and a spoon to Bree. She smelled the beans and thought that it was typical of Dave. Go camping and eat beans. She



would have bet that Dave had planned this menu. Beans and camping had to go together. What she wouldn't have given for a medium-rare filet mignon. She shook her head slowly, but dug into the dinner anyway. Her stomach rumbled as she ate methodically, her belly filling quickly. The beans were actually decent and assuaged her hunger. After she finished, she set aside the bowl and watched the fire. The conversation droned on around her. She wasn't really paying attention or participating. Her mind inexplicably wandered to her sleeping arrangements. She was going to share a tent with Dave. It had been a while since she'd shared a bed with anyone, platonic or otherwise. She tried to calm her nerves. She had brought the teddy after all, and just the thought of the soft fabric against her bare skin was sending shivers down her body. She doubted if she'd wear it tonight. Not unless Chet and Natasha left the campsite for a midnight stroll or something. She knew that she couldn't keep herself quiet. Dave was probably going to lose out tonight, but at least he didn't know. She found herself feeling a little disappointed herself. Her mind imagined his fingers tracing her nipples, despite her struggle to tear herself from these daydreams. Her breath began to become more laboured and she snatched her hand away from herself as she felt it creep unconsciously towards her breast. She wasn't alone here, she gently chastised herself. Someone had set up a small portable stereo. Celtic music issued forth from it gently into the night. The sounds of the music and fresh air and the droning of the conversations lulled her. Her mind kept wandering. Her mind formulated unbidden images of her making gentle love by the fire. Tingles flowed insistently through her body. She sighed. This was going to be a long weekend. She snapped her eyes open as she felt a faint breeze on her face. Dave was waving his hand in front of her. "Bree?" She gasped, "What? You frightened me." She fought against a slight dismay that surfaced. He had interrupted a particularly vivid vision of herself kneeling naked by the fire. She swallowed heavily hoping that she wasn't as flushed as she felt. "You haven't said a word in an hour. Are you alright?" he asked. She struggled to temper herself. The tingles were increasing. She couldn't stop thinking about touching him. Touching herself. Mists. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (12 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


Deer. And deep music. And Dave was right there. All she had to do was reach out with her fingers. Touch him. She had to pull herself out of this. "I'm fine. My mind is just wandering. Just relaxing. Don't worry about me," she struggled to find the concentration to speak. "That's what we are here for, right? To relax?" He nodded, apparently satisfied. She raised herself to sit back up on the log. After a moment, she glanced around at the others. Chet had his arm around Natasha. Dave sat on the other side of the flames from Bree, quietly talking about something and sipping at his beer, relating that old story about the ski trip, or the playground. She couldn't concentrate. Couldn't understand his words. The crackle of the fire seemed abnormally loud and intense, the soft music was filling her senses like a sensual symphony. Suddenly, she felt them. The full moon was rising just above the tree tops and she felt them. Whispers inside of her. Instinctively she knew that she'd always been meant to be here. Destiny had found her, and she welcomed it with open arms. Her heart soared as she realized that tonight was the night. Her time. A young deer stepped out from the trees. It's liquid trusting eyes took in the campsite and focused on Bree. Mesmerized, she watched it. The conversation died on the lips of the others. Only the haunting notes of the Celts broke the silence of the glade. Even the crickets had ceased their night trilling. Tentatively, the small deer stepped out, and stumbled carefully to Bree. She instinctively held out her hand, and the deer gently licked her. In a flash, it turned tail and bounded out of the clearing. Bree turned, surprised that she wasn't speaking and excitedly sharing the experience with the others. Her experience with wildlife extended to seeing the odd squirrel in the city and the odd scraggly bear in the zoo. The deer was almost magical to her. Chet and Dave were watching dazed into speechlessness. Natasha sat in wonder, her brown eyes taking in the magic in stunned silence. As the deer vanished into the night, the mist began as thin tendrils, almost like smoke rising from the ground. It was a light mist, far from a fog. It covered the ground like a white blanket, as if magic was materializing in the air itself. It scented vaguely of incense and cinnamon. Bree breathed in deeply, feeling the changes in her, the



emotions suddenly flooding her like a small dam had broken in her heart. Her hands, still in her lap, were shaking. A sudden sense of apprehension and anticipation gripped her. The deep blue of her sapphire ring pulsed in the firelight. The others were watching her without fright but with a sense of awe. She felt like a million people, her senses heightened, her being complete. She felt like a goddess. Slowly she stood, feeling the rhythm of the notes falling through the night like a beckoning. She felt her body pulse in time with the notes and with the blue stone on her finger. She closed her eyes, feeling the presence of so many more than just Chet and Dave and Natasha. She felt like she was outside of herself, watching intently as she began to move to the rhythms of the night. The smoke and the mist swirled about her body as she slowly moved to the ancient cadence. The unknown movements of the dance flooded her senses. As she made her first circuit of the fire, she felt herself kicking off her shoes and pulling off her socks with her toes. She had to feel the earth, the sand beneath her bare feet. Sighing, she continued. The others were captivated by her movements, her expressions. Somehow they all knew that this night would forever change their lives. She felt the presence of the fawn as she whirled around the fire, her feet daintily prancing through the sand. Laughing, she stood in front of her place, facing outwards towards the forest. She felt free, alive. She had never felt anything like this before. Slowly her clothing peeled from her body. She wanted nothing to impede her tonight. Not even the denim of her jeans, not her sweater. In her underclothing, she gyrated to the ancient beat, whirling her body with abandon, her bare feet light upon the sand. All of them watched: the fawn, the men and Natasha. Bree felt freedom, a sense of oneness with the land and with the air. Each dancing step sent shivers through her senses; each now familiar step causing her toes to lightly indent the sand. The ring on her finger pulsed again, throbbing in time with the drums, throwing its own muted light into the night. She halted again on the far side of the fire. Her skin was bathed in perspiration from her dancing. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Too constricted. Not right. She felt her fingers releasing her bra and her panties as though they no longer belonged to her. The http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (14 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


fawn watched as she stripped off the last of her modesty, the last of her covering, the last of her restrictions. Slowly she gathered up her clothing and walked towards the fire. She could feel the heat of the fire like a million candles burning gently against her naked skin. Head bowed, she whispered to herself in ceremonial tongue, a language as old and honoured as time itself. She had no knowledge from where it emerged from within her mind, it was simply there. As the desires flooded over her, she dropped the fabric of her clothing into the fire. Like a living sacrifice, the fire consumed her coverings, freeing her from hiding. She felt a vague regret at the loss of her clothing, but her loss was quickly replaced by the feeling of the fire close against her skin, mimicking the fires burning deep inside of her being. Visions flashed through her mind. Mists. Dave. Deer. Chet. Music. Natasha. She dropped to her knees in front of the fire, her arms raised in supplication, her face turned to the heavens. Bree felt the shivers intensify. The tremors raced through her bared body, starting at the tips of her breasts tingling continuously down her spine to throb insistently between her thighs. She lowered her hands, her ring burning bright blue on her finger. She gazed into the cool blue flames and gently removed the ring. Holding it in her small fingers she rose slowly back to her bare feet. She pictured the image she presented across the fire, her nudity not bothering her as it should. The heat in her breasts was mirrored by the flickering light of the bonfire. The crimson heat lit her bare body like she was aflame. She felt like she was in flames, the pain of her desire drumming within her. She took them in. Dave. Chet. Natasha. All staring at her. All knowing that her fate lay in the stone, the dance and the night. All accepted that destiny without understanding the power behind it. The fire flared in front of her, obscuring the others. She fought down her fear and slowly stepped one bare foot into the flames. It was part of the dance. She would be protected. She knew. Cleansed by fire. She screamed involuntarily as her bare toes stepped into the fire, expecting the searing heat and agony of burning despite her inner certainties. The others watched, knowing that this was part of her transformation. Destiny was shifting tonight. They all felt it. The shadows wavered as though to absorb her pain. She stepped fully into the fire, arms outstretched, trusting the dance. Somewhere she could



hear her mind screaming that she would die writhing in agony, and it balked at her movements into pure sensuality. No sound escaped her lips. She stood, a blue aura surrounding her being, beginning at her ring and extending like a shield encompassing her bare body. She didn't feel the agony of the heat, merely a pleasant warmth and an upwards wind. Her blonde hair rose in the updraft of the fire, but did not burn. She took a deep breath, and stepped out of the flames onto the other side of the fire. She felt renewed and cleansed. She could see desire on the others' faces. Desire for her even reflected openly on Natasha's face. Her bare body began to move once more to the music. The ring pulsed between her fingers. She could feel the heat of the fire again, touching her skin, caressing her, the blue shield vanished like a night owl into the darkness. She shivered as more tingles of sensuality flowed through her being. She moved as the music took her. Dancing sensually for Dave, then Chet, then Natasha. Gender, race, ideology didn't matter to the stone. Only the soulmate. Only the Chosen. She danced for them, releasing her soul into her movements, searching for something, searching for herself and one other. The shadows whispered, and the fawn watched. Her bare feet halted themselves in front of Chet, her body still writhing to the rhythms. Images of Chet, of his kindness, of his friendship, of his charms flitted through her head. She knelt easily in front of him, offering him her ring. Offering him herself. The ring pulsed in time with the throb between her legs, and the beat of the music. The blue flame brightened slightly as it drew near him. She took in a great breath, fighting her emotions. Her mind screamed out silently, "It should have been Dave." But tonight wasn't about what should have been. It was about destiny and about her innermost desires. It was about what was meant to be. Chet, dazed by her presence and her magic, reached out and stroked her face. His fingers burned her skin, sending shivers down her heaving body. Great gulps of air entered her lungs as she struggled through her exertions. She knew without looking that her bare breasts were rising and falling rapidly with her struggle to get enough air. He touched the ring. The light from the ring muted slowly to darkness. The music and the mists rose up in a crescendo. Tears ran down Chet's face. Bree was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (16 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


unable to cry. Not yet. "Bree, much as I desire you," Chet whispered, "you are not destined for me." In that instant, she understood that Chet would forever be in her life, as a protector, as a brother, as a cherished friend. She loved him, and would always love him. But he was not her soulmate. Deep inside, she had always known that. He took a deep breath, his face a mask of disappointment and pain. He released the ring which began to pulse and burn again with a renewed vigor. A tear managed to escape Bree's eyes as she gently kissed his cheek. She was not meant for Chet, no matter how much she may have desired him. She forced her numbed mind back to herself. Dave. Why had she gone to Chet first? Dave was her soulmate. She was intending to share herself with him tonight. It must be him. The stone knew that. She slowly danced to Dave's seat. The stone burned brightly as she knelt. Dave looked down at her, his face open in admiration of her. Her presence and her nudity worked their magic upon him. She was breathing heavily as she offered the ring and herself into his fingers. Visions of his naked body joined with her flitted through her mind. His easy manner, his light sense of humour. She flushed as visions of his love flowed through her. But her mind was troubled as she knelt. Doubts flowed through her, despite her attraction to him. She had only known him for three weeks. He was kind and considerate, but something was missing, wasn't it? Perhaps he didn't feel the same? But she wanted him. God, did she want him. He hesitated, suddenly unsure of her. He reached forward, his fingers lightly grasping the ring. She held her breath as the light continued to shine forth from the stone. She opened her small mouth, her lips ready to pledge herself body and soul to him. But as the first sounds escaped her lips, the light extinguished abruptly. Grief washed over him. His face collapsed as tears began to fall from his eyes. He'd lost her, forever. This goddess before him was not for his touch. And somehow, he knew. Somehow he'd always known. He wasn't ready for one such as she. Bree had been so sure it was Dave. Who else was there in her life? How



could he be transitory when she thought that she loved him? Unbidden tears rolled down her face as her emotions fought within her. She willed the stone to brighten, but it remained stubbornly dark in his grasp. Through the tears she felt the desire flowing through her bare body. She knelt quietly, soaking in her loss. Dave was wonderful, but he was too similar to her. She could love him, for a time, but the stone had known what she had not. She had been blinded by his unfamiliarity, blinded by young love and lust. She had wanted him here and now, not forever. He was not her soulmate, and never had been. She felt a deep sense of loss intermixed with a deep sense of relief. She knew that she had lost him forever. As he reluctantly parted his fingers from the ring, it shone again, brighter than before, urging her back to her bare feet. Obeying the light, she slowly rose, unable to look at Dave. She slowly spun her body, the music beginning to recede. She swallowed, very unsure of the direction that this dance was taking her. She looked for comfort in the fawn. The fawn was watching intently, her nude dance, her indecision. She drew an understanding and strength from the creature of the forest. She struggled, knowing what she had to do, but unable to fully accept it. She wanted to cast away the ring, break the spell of the spirits. But she had to know. Her destiny was being formed tonight. If she cast away the sapphire into the fire, she would never know. She would regret it for the rest of her life. Regret what could have been. She stopped in front of Natasha, her heart hammering in her chest. Fear graced Natasha's eyes, but she sat still, gazing at the petite blonde girl slowly kneeling in front of her, Bree's bare breasts heaving with her effort. Bree felt the ring shudder as she held it out to Natasha. She closed her eyes. Images of this unknown girl flooded through her. Images of soft pain comforted, an image of Natasha dancing naked as Bree was, her light laugh ringing through Bree's ears, images of her softly making love to Bree by the fire, images of sensuality, images of her friendship and her caring and her love, images of her being, images of her soul. Bree didn't know the girl before whom she knelt. Couldn't know her. But she could feel her. Touch the depths of her soul. She opened her eyes again, staring into Natasha's deep brown liquid eyes. Natasha took a deep breath and hesitantly touched the ring. The explosion of light lit the clearing like a cool blue daylight. The fawn watched the light for a moment, turned and bounded into the forest, vanishing as quickly as it had come.



"Bree," Natasha whispered. Slowly, the girls rose to their feet, fingers joined. The light from the sapphire was flooding the clearing. Dave and Chet both sat quietly, their eyes wet as they watched the girls walk slowly to the tent through the mists. Neither dreamed of stopping the females. Bree lay back on the mattress, cherishing the softness against her skin. Desire and heat flooded through her as she watched Natasha slowly strip her clothing, tossing it carelessly into the corner of the tent. Bree cried out at the first touch of Natasha's skin against her own. The softness, the sensual caresses of Natasha's breasts sent shivers down her body. The touch of Natasha's lips sent butterflies racing through her stomach. She kissed Natasha as though they were long lost lovers. Perhaps they were, from a different time, a different place. She felt Natasha's fingers caressing her, from the tips of her breasts to her sensitive bare toes. Then between her legs, entering her. Bree gasped, arching herself into the touch. She felt her own fingers exploring, touching Natasha's hot skin, stroking the hardened nipples, touching legs, back, breasts, face, hair. Natasha's hair smelled faintly of wood smoke and cinnamon as they embraced, entwined. The gentle voices whispered urgently in her mind. She screamed as pleasure washed over her senses. She didn't care who could hear through the thin nylon of the tent. Natasha had worked around, gently kissing down her body until her tongue lightly stroked at Bree's sex, licking at her swollen clitoris. As Bree tried to control her scream, she opened her eyes, seeing Natasha above her. Encircling her slight waist, Bree pulled Natasha's sweetness to her mouth, mirroring the light touches that were building between Bree's legs. Natasha's scent and taste filled her like perfume, pushing Bree's arousal to a new level. Natasha cried out, pressing herself to Bree. The mist curled lightly into the tent as though to observe the passion it had wrought. The girls smelled the headiness of incense and cinnamon again, intermixed with their own scents, further arousing their senses, peaking. Bree felt herself tensing with the entrance of the mist. She drew in a last breath of air and let it out in one long scream of pleasure and contentment. Her cries echoed through the eons. The mists seemed to shiver as though sharing in her pleasure. Her body arched into the sensations given by Natasha's tongue. Her body was still sheened with



light sweat from her dance and the heat of the fire. She felt all her internal muscles contracting, pulsing against Natasha's fingers. She felt her mind and soul exploding with blue light. Visions flashed through her numbed mind as she climaxed. Moonlight Rising. Fawn. The Dance. Moments later, almost simultaneously, she felt Natasha tense and cry out. Not as loudly as she, but enough to know that Bree's tongue had provided the same overwhelming pleasure to the straining girl above her. Into the darkness of the tent, Bree heard her own voice whisper, "Raven." Gasping, Natasha collapsed onto Bree and turned herself around. They lay in each other's arms, quietly crying and rocking. The mists slowly retreated, and the low music lulled them as they fought with the new sensations flooding through their bodies. Neither knew what this all meant, and perhaps they weren't supposed to. They were soulmates. That was all that mattered. They had been lost, and had been brought together, finding one another in the blue fire. The stone remained burning brightly on Bree's finger, not to fade until morning. Bree felt the familiar shivers of falling in love, only more intense than she had ever felt before. The anticipation of getting to know this woman in her arms, learning about her, sharing her life with her, sharing her body. All her thoughts were focused on this naked girl, who had so unexpectedly fallen into her life. Bree pulled the sleeping bag over their tired bodies, hiding the bright blue light under the blankets. As they slipped into a deep exhausted sleep, Bree whispered into the dark sweet hair fanned softly over her bare breasts, "Goodnight, my soulmate. My Chosen." She gently kissed the top of Natasha's sleeping head. *** Fawn of the Moonlight Rising dropped to her knees. Her bare body was sheened in perspiration, and she was breathing hard from her dance, her breasts rising and falling enticingly. The fire had not harmed her, as she had known it wouldn't. She reverently offered the blue shining stone once again, unsure of herself this time. The dark-haired woman, a recent arrival to the tribe known only as Raven, understood http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Chosen.html (20 of 21)8/15/2005 12:10:45 AM


her destiny already. The desire flooded through Raven's being, mirroring the insistent tingles radiating through the kneeling girl in front of her. She hesitantly touched the cool burning stone cradled in Fawn's small hand. The deep blue light intensified, lighting up the night sky like an indigo flash of lightning. Tears ran down Raven's face as she accepted the honour of being the Chosen. Raven reached down to the fair-haired, nude daughter of the chieftain, and stroked her face gently. Tears flowed freely down both girls' faces. "Bree," she whispered to the kneeling girl, calling Fawn's name softly in the tongue of the ancients. She gently took Fawn's small hand in her own, gazing into her deep eyes. They were soulmates. Forever. She had been Chosen. Together they rose and walked slowly from the fire.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Porch - Crimson Dragon

Porch © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Porch (FF, cons, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - June 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== The old porch had been built by strong hands. Her grandfather had built this cabin long before she had been conceived - long before her mother had been conceived. She had never known her grandfather, except for his grainy pictures in old family albums. But she knew him through his legacy. He was a part of this place. The cabin stood solidly, built of rough hewn timbers - oak probably cut from the surrounding forest. It had been meticulously framed and joined to create the illusion of nearly being one with the forest. The view across the valleys remained breath-taking, unchanged from his time. The mountains in the distance rose up as though they wanted to reach the glory of the heavens. She settled into the wicker chair and lay her head back. She would never get tired of the view or the escape this place afforded her. She silently thanked her unknown grandfather again for his gift to her.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (1 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


She sipped slowly at her red wine. The sun would be going down soon. She wanted to see the sunset, that's why she had come, but she wished with all her heart that Lara was here with her to share it. She closed her eyes trying to fight off the melancholy that had gripped her for the last week. It didn't help that she'd been busy. Work always depressed her. It was the nature of the beast, she supposed. But this week had seemed abnormally stressful. Too many clients, too much on her mind. "Michelle Waters. Barrister & Solicitor." That's what it said on her business card. She hated that card, hated what she'd become. The card might have more accurately declared, "Michelle Waters, Courtroom Ice Queen, Defender of the Criminal Mind, and Closet Lesbian." She knew what the law clerks, and the other partners in the firm thought of her. Well, not the lesbian part - only Lara knew that. Michelle was smart, accomplished, and up for partner next year. She never lost in the courtroom. Even when they were guilty as sin and she knew it. She had a respect in the firm that she didn't deserve. She was demanding of her subordinates; she accepted that as part of the game. And they respected her because she got results. Didn't mean that they liked her. There were some that were simply jealous of her - jealous not only of her ability, but also her looks. She used her looks to her advantage. She knew that she had a knockout figure and the face of a model. They were advantages in the courtroom and she was more than aware of it. She tried to disguise her looks a little in the office, but in court, she flaunted them. And it worked. Combined with her keen mind, her looks were devastatingly effective when it came to swaying a jury. And she hated it. She'd never intended to become this. Her life had become one long business day, fighting for image and control and money. And then Lara had dropped into her life. Lara had made the drudgery of life so much more bearable. Lara was a spark of light in a dark and incomplete existence. They had met somewhere, one of those particularly boring cocktail parties that she had no choice but to attend. What had started out as polite small talk had gradually moved to life coincidences, and the start of a friendship. Both women were professionals. Not much time for a social life. Love lives in the sewer. They had clicked in the short span of one party. Michelle had felt like she had met a kindred spirit, felt as though she had known Lara for all of her life. Lara was someone that she could, perhaps, find interesting; someone who might become a friend more than an acquaintance. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (2 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


Over the next months, the friendship had deepened. Female camaraderie. Joking about the office and about the unfairness of life. Crying about Lara's latest date which had fizzled. Frustrations. They griped long into the nights that Michelle was unable to find the right man, or worse wouldn't have time to date him if she indeed found him. Michelle had felt the first rays of sunshine break into her life for as long as she could remember. All it took was someone with whom she could share. Then last Saturday night. What the hell had she been thinking? She opened her eyes, realizing that tears were falling down her cheeks, unbidden and unwanted. How the law clerks would whisper to see the Ice Queen crying. She could hear them making insensitive jokes about her melting like the Wicked Witch of the West or Frosty the Snowman in a heat wave. She wiped at the tears, sniffling a little. She took another sip of the wine, savouring the taste and trying not to think of what she'd done. She closed her eyes again and felt a soft cool breeze floating across her face carrying the clean scent of forest, rain, oak and mountain air. The air was getting chilly at this altitude as the sun began its nightly retreat. She forced herself to stop crying and, shivering a little, she rose to her feet. She opened the screen door, carrying her empty wine glass. The door banged shut behind her, the sharp sound echoing across the valleys. She placed the glass on the counter and moved off to the main bedroom. Absently, she stripped off her casual clothing. The air inside the cabin was chilled and crisp. She noticed idly as her nipples tightened as her bra fell away from her chest. She felt the coolness of her sweatpants and panties sliding down her legs. She shivered, mostly from the cold, but also from a deeper need. She glanced down at the bed where she had laid out her nightgown. Nobody around for miles. She whipped the feather comforter off the bed, watching in fascination as her nightgown fluttered to the oaken boards of the floor. She wrapped the comforter about her naked shoulders and padded out to the kitchen. Her bare feet felt the cold of the floor but she consciously ignored the sensation. The rough boards beneath her feet, despite the coolness, always infused her with a sense of closeness with the cabin and her unknown grandfather. She carefully poured herself another glass of wine, swearing that it would be the final one. It didn't take much wine to touch her senses



these days. That is what had gotten her in trouble in the first place. She fought away the tears again, and moved quietly back out to her porch. She settled back into the wicker chair, carefully arranging the comforter around her so that the wicker didn't irritate her bare skin. She snuggled down into the warmth of the blanket, carefully covering herself. Nobody around to see her, but she still tried to be modest. She curled her legs under herself and took another sip of the wine. The light was beginning to fade as the sun touched the top of one of the mountaintops capped in brilliant white snow. Her mind wandered back to last Saturday. How she wished that it hadn't happened. How she wished that she could reverse time. They'd been at her home, an immaculate residence on the right side of the tracks. Upkept by hired hands, the grounds and the house gleamed spotless. Lara had suggested just staying in, watching an old movie, having a few drinks. Talking. Lara had just ended yet another on-again, off-again relationship with some guy named Matt who Michelle had never met but knew through descriptions. They had rented some movie, Michelle couldn't remember the title because they had never watched it. They had drunk a bottle of champagne between the two of them. Michelle suspected that she had actually drunk more like three quarters of it herself. Lara had been upset about Matt, Michelle remembered that. Lara had cried, wanting to be held, wanting to talk about Matt. Michelle remembered hugging Lara and cradling her and quietly sympathizing. She remembered feeling odd. Perhaps the drink, perhaps Lara's vulnerability. She remembered the tingles that seemed to emanate from Lara's skin as she tried unsuccessfully to comfort her. She remembered her lips softly touching Lara's, her head swimming in a fog of sensations. And the tingles as they raced through her body as their lips touched. Lara had stiffened, a distant look clouding her eyes. She had squirmed out of Michelle's arms, a questioning look on her face. Michelle had said something indistinct, a jumble of meaningless words. Except they hadn't been meaningless, had they? Lara mumbled a few words, and fled. An emptiness remained where Lara had been moments before, leaving Michelle confused, weeping, more than a little drunk, and hurt. The following morning had been hell. Her head throbbed, and her stomach had threatened to explode upwards. Her memory was fuzzy, but she vaguely recalled Lara's flight and what had caused it. Lara refused to answer her calls. All week. Lara's office dutifully took her name and number, and yes, Lara was in the office today but unreachable. Unreachable all week. Michelle had been dumped often enough to know what it meant. Lara didn't want anything to do with http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (4 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


her, and she couldn't blame her. She'd stepped over an unspoken line. She felt dumped, but there had never been anything really to dump. Her melancholy had deepened until she knew that she had to get away. Her feelings were a complete tangle within her. She felt dirty, exposed, and repentant. She had never wanted a woman before, and still didn't. At least she was trying to convince herself of that. She had been drunk and made a mistake. A mistake for which she was paying dearly. She closed her eyes, wincing at the emotions rolling through her mind. Just the thought of Lara was causing unwanted tingles to race through her senses. She lowered the wine to the porch boards and leaned back in the chair hugging herself beneath the blanket. Beneath her closed lids, Lara's face appeared. The smooth strong features coalesced unbidden as though her unconscious mind was trying to tell her something. She forced her eyes open, willing away the images. But she still felt the tingles, her body betraying her mind. She shivered once, and closed her eyes determined not to give in to herself. Again Lara appeared. She stepped out of the cabin clearing. She stood gazing across the proud, her brunette hair curling around her her bare feet settled easily into the short

trees at the edge of the short expanse, tall and shoulders. She was naked, grass.

Michelle felt soft touches on her skin, her eyes flickering back and forth under her eyelids. Her nipples tightened further as the soft fingers brushed at the sensitive skin. She heard herself gasp as the fingers trailed down from her breasts, down her tummy to gently circle her belly button. Lara approached, her bare feet making trails through the wet grass. The sun glinted off her upthrust bare breasts, her nipples hardened in the cool air. Michelle felt the fingers softly stroking her lower lips, sneaking inside, teasing her. She could feel her wetness, her arousal. Lara approached, leaning easily on the porch railing, watching intently as Michelle let her fingers trail over herself, pushing herself, softly moaning. Her own soft cry forced her out of her fantasy. She started, as though from a dream or a light sleep. She sat bolt upright, snatching her hand from her body, feeling and scenting her arousal. She was breathing hard, her breasts causing the comforter to rise and fall erratically at her chest. Tears falling down her face, she leaned back, closing her eyes again, forcing her hands to remain crossed safely over her tummy. What the hell was she doing? She'd been trying



to apologize to this girl all week and then she came up here and did this? She forced herself to calm her breathing, trying unsuccessfully to either quell her arousal or at least visualize her last boyfriend. What was his name? Lara's image forced its way past all her defenses again. She was leaning on the railing, still nude. Michelle felt an insistent tingle beginning in her breasts and traveling down her spine, settling between her legs. No. She fought her body, resisting the urge to move her entwined hands. She was going to lose, but she had to at least make an effort at stopping this. Lara spoke softly. "Michelle?" The voice was so real, so near, so unexpected. The lips on Lara's image hadn't even moved. Michelle snatched in a startled gasp and forced her eyelids apart. Lara's image didn't disappear, but rather moved and clothed itself. Lara now stood uneasily outside the porch, on the other side of the railing, her right hand raised and resting on the oak of the porch. She was wearing jeans and a red blouse, probably silk, and running shoes were buried in the grass. Her hair wasn't cascading over her shoulders but was tied back in a loose ponytail. She was bathed in the muted light that graced the earth before a stunning sunset. And she was real, her face reflecting sadness and uncertainty, not the want and need that she had shown in Michelle's mind. "Lara?" Michelle gasped out after the initial surprise. She instinctively looked away and then back. Lara was still there. She grasped the comforter tighter around herself, suddenly sorry that she'd not worn her nightgown out here. Where? How? Questions spun through her mind reflecting on her stunned face. "I'm sorry if I startled you," Lara spoke quietly. "That's alright," Michelle managed to control her adrenaline rush. She was floored that her voice was steady as she spoke. "I. How? What? Where?" her mouth refused to work quite properly. Lara was somber. "If you want me to leave, I will. I won't blame you." "I don't want you to leave, I'm just a little confused," Michelle said. "I couldn't get a hold of you, and I was worried. I called your http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (6 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


mother, and she told me you might be up here. She gave me directions," Lara explained. "You drove all the way up here to find me? You. You wouldn't return my calls all week," Michelle's voice betrayed her confusion. Lara remained in the clearing, making no move to join Michelle on the porch. Michelle was silently glad in one way, she had to figure out a way to get herself dressed before Lara got the wrong idea, again. "I know," Lara looked crestfallen as she spoke. "I wish I could tell you I was actually busy, but the truth is I ... couldn't talk to you. And I wasn't getting much work done. I'm sorry. You deserve better than that. That's why I took a chance and came up here. Worst case, you weren't here and I wasted a three hour drive. I would have wasted the time anyway." Emotions were fighting through Michelle's mind. She couldn't believe that Lara was here. None of her former lovers would have made the trek to find her up here, even when they were going out and thought they were in love with her. And Lara had every reason in the world to be angry with her, and yet there she was. Michelle spoke to the woman outside her reach, "I was only trying to call and apologize for last Saturday. I. I don't know what happened, and I'm sorry, for whatever that's worth." Lara slowly lifted her finger to her lips and silently shushed Michelle. Michelle felt an unwanted tingle rush through her covered bare body as she couldn't help trying to remember what those lips had felt like and wishing it was her finger against those soft lips. "I'm sorry too, but for different reasons. You mind if I join you up there? I feel kind of awkward down here," Lara spoke quietly, truly asking permission. It was odd, Lara genuinely seemed sorry for something, when Michelle felt like she should be the one apologizing. "You want to watch the sunset?" Michelle asked, hoping that it didn't sound too much like a proposition. "I love sunsets," Lara nodded as she spoke. She slowly moved through the grass, and climbed daintily up the oak steps to the porch. She pointed at the glass that Michelle had left on the deck. She took a deep breath and asked almost fearfully, "Do you have any more of



that?" Knowing that she was being a terrible hostess, but also knowing that she had no way of extricating herself from her chair, Michelle answered quietly, "Help yourself. It's in the kitchen." Michelle closed her eyes and listened to Lara's footsteps as they disappeared into the unfamiliar cabin. The image of Lara naked, rose again behind her lids, creating another tingle through her body. Lara returned a moment later with a glass of the red wine and settled herself into the other wicker chair, a little way from where Michelle sat. She sipped at her wine, her eyes lifted towards the western sky. The silence was awkward, but it didn't take long before the women were captivated by the sun as it threw vibrant purple across the stark peaks and forest. The beauty of the skies would have struck their tongues silent anyway if they'd been engaged in idle chatter. The mountains were silent with the girls as though the entire world was watching the burning skies. Venus appeared first in the crystal clear heavens above the mountains. It was followed by a billion other points of light, winking one by one into existence. Michelle gathered her courage, hesitant to break the safe silence. "I'm sorry," Michelle whispered into the night. She heard the scrape of Lara's chair as Lara rose. Lara knelt on the hard boards in front of Michelle. "Did you mean it?" Lara whispered. Instinctively, Michelle knew what Lara had asked. Not if she was really sorry about her unsolicited advance on Saturday night, but rather if the advance was meant in the first place. "I. I don't know. Sunday, I knew that I didn't mean it. Most of last week, I knew that I didn't mean it. I was drunk at the time, Lara. But today, I'm not so sure," Michelle shakily replied. If it had been light and she could see Lara's face, she wouldn't have admitted it. "But either way, Lara, I'm sorry. I don't want to lose your friendship over this. I made a mistake." "Are you drunk now?" Lara softly asked. Michelle checked her mind, the telltale signs were absent, even after her two glasses of wine. She didn't feel drunk, but she knew that it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (8 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


could just be her mind knowing that clarity was important right now. Sobriety through necessity. "I. I don't think so. I don't feel drunk," Michelle managed to find a truthful answer. Michelle watched as Lara's silhouette rose up on its knees, her hands finding purchase on Michelle's thighs through the blanket. Her face was softly lit by the starlight and the moon which was peeking out from behind a snowy capped moutaintop. The snow reflected the muted light towards them. Lara's face moved closer until it was only inches from Michelle's. Instinctively Michelle tried to move back, careful that the blanket didn't fall to reveal her state of undress. "If you aren't drunk, and you still want to kiss me, I don't mind," Lara's voice was steady, and yet tremulous at the same time. Michelle's heart began to hammer within her chest. Her mind fought with her body. Her body wanted those lips so very much, and her mind knew that it was such a great risk. Was Lara testing her? Her breasts tingled as she imagined the soft touch of those lips, that half remembered sweetness that she'd already tasted once before. But that touch had almost cost her so much. Lara was here again, her scent, her skin, her being so close. She wouldn't lose her again. She had felt the touch of loss, and she was certain that wasn't what she wanted. Even at the risk of never touching those soft lips again. She forced her lips to move, not forward but in speech. "Lara? I. I want to. So much. But I don't if you don't. I don't want to lose you." Her being exploded into small points of light as she felt Lara's answer. The soft full lips pressed against her own, the soft touch of Lara's tongue traced gently along her lips. She nearly cried out as she felt Lara withdraw, breaking the kiss. Michelle's breath was ragged and it almost hurt her to breathe. She opened her eyes. Lara's face, angelic in the moonlight, hung inches above her own. She moaned as Lara slowly resumed her kneeling position, releasing her weight off Michelle's thighs. Michelle felt her body like she had never been aware of it before. Desire made itself known from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She suddenly wanted Lara's weight back on her thighs. She needed to feel that kiss again. "That felt kind of nice," Lara understated what Michelle had felt roar



through her body. Michelle numbly nodded, afraid to answer. "I'm sorry," Lara whispered from her knees. "I feel like a shit for not returning your calls. I was scared. Of you, and myself. Ever since you kissed me last Saturday, I've been ... confused. And I was scared to talk to you. I. I wanted that kiss, too. And I've never wanted a woman before and other than you, I still don't. And it scares me. I'm sorry." Michelle took in the words, halfway relieved that she wasn't the only one. She could understand this; her feelings were just as mixed up and as confused, if Lara was telling the truth. God, what if her office got wind of this? They were conservative. Good-bye partnership. She forced those thoughts from her mind. "Lara? It's okay. I'm confused, too. Last Sunday, I would have killed to convince you that I didn't want it." Michelle paused for a moment gathering her thoughts, trying to make sense of these feelings that she finally could acknowledge. "What do we do now?" Michelle whispered. Lara took a deep breath, Michelle could hear the intake of air from where she sat. In answer, Lara again rose up on her knees and moved tentatively towards Michelle's face. The women again found themselves kissing like adolescents experiencing their first kiss. Michelle gasped as Lara's hands moved gently down her leg, stroking it through the heavy comforter. Irrationally, she wondered how she was going to get out of the chair without Lara finding out she was naked underneath the covering. She felt fingers brushing at her breasts, the material of the comforter stroking at her nipples. She cried out involuntarily as Lara again withdrew, her voice echoing softly through the trees and the night. Lara stood, facing Michelle on the porch. Her hands slowly lifted the blouse over her head, allowing it to flutter to the deck. Without looking at Michelle, almost as though she was pretending she was wasn't there, she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them over her hips. She stepped out of them, pulling her running shoes off with her toes. She hesitated a moment, then reached behind herself, releasing her bra. It joined the rest of her clothing on the deck. Shivering in the night air, she pulled her feet out of her white ankle socks. Lara carefully walked backwards until she felt her skin touch the rough railing. She leaned back, http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (10 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


unconsciously thrusting out her breasts into the moonlight. The vision was almost overwhelming for Michelle. Except for the highcut panties, and the muted light, it was the vision of her fantasy. She had to consciously prevent her hands from exploring her body under the covering of the blanket. She almost thought that she could see approval in Lara's dark eyes, permission to touch herself. But she didn't. Lara rested for a moment, shivering slightly as she leaned against the railing. Lara took a breath, held it, seemed to come to some decision and raised her right hand, finger beckoning gently for Michelle to join her. Michelle shivered under her blanket, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived. She had no choice. Lara was going to know. She mentally chastised herself. It didn't matter now. Lara was nearly as naked as she and there was nothing of which to be ashamed. Gathering her courage, she gently unwrapped herself from the blanket, watching Lara as she exposed her body to her for the first time. Lara's face flickered amusement as she took in the already nude form of Michelle, but not surprise. Perhaps, her earlier explorations had given her a hint as to Michelle's state of undress, perhaps she'd seen Michelle's clothing littering the bedroom floor from the kitchen. Michelle padded silently over the oaken boards, feeling the roughness beneath her toes. She carried the comforter with her. As Michelle reached the woman at the rail, Lara teased her gently, "Ready for me?" Gently referring to Michelle's immediate nudity. Michelle blushed from her face all the way down to her toes. She could feel the flush spread through her body, overriding her arousal. In the dim light, Michelle couldn't see herself, so she knew Lara couldn't either, but she also knew the flush was there without a doubt. Michelle dumbly nodded her head as she watched in awe as Lara's fingers reached out to touch her bare body. A quick touch of the nipples, and another stroke across the belly ignited Michelle's passion. She moaned into the night. Lara gently retrieved the comforter from Michelle's relaxed fingers, spreading it out over the boards. She lay herself down, tugging gently at Michelle's fingers, urging her down beside her. Michelle nestled herself into the crook of Lara's arm, almost as she would with a man. She was pleasantly surprised that her body fit so



well with Lara, almost like it was made to. She felt her hand tracing over Lara's pale skin, teasing her breasts, teasing her soft pubic hair through her panties, tracing the soft skin of her thighs. Lara was gasping, her own hands trailing over Michelle's burning skin. They kissed tenderly as their fingers explored. Gently, Lara pushed Michelle onto her back. Unresisting, Michelle felt the harshness of the oak through the softness of the blanket. She was shivering unconsciously at the cool night air on her unprotected skin. She felt Lara move downwards, her tongue lightly touching her skin, tracing a lazy path downwards. As she felt Lara's hot breath tickling her pubic hairs, she struggled for control. She touched Lara's dark hair, stopping her. God, that was hard. Lara turned her head, her breath still tickling at Michelle's tummy. "What's the matter?" she asked quietly, concern filling her quiet voice. Michelle felt odd whenever anyone wanted to be down there. She couldn't quite believe that anyone would want to have their mouth so close to her. "You. Don't. Have to do that. If you don't want." Michelle's words came out in a rush, her regret apparent at having to say them. Lara smiled at her and whispered gently. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." Lara turned her head and let her tongue trace slowly through the light fur and her breath finally touched Michelle's center. Michelle cried out as she felt Lara's tongue touching and tracing across her swollen lips, teasing her unbearably. She cried out again, as the softness slipped between the lips, finding her clitoris and gently circling her. New sensations penetrated her as she felt fingers exploring, touching, entering her and pumping gently in rhythm with the soft tongue circling her clitoris. Her arousal was complete as she felt the stars begin to spin above her. She tried to hold back, but didn't have a prayer of resisting the sensations given to her. She screamed into the night as her body convulsed, her muscles fighting each other as she climaxed. Her body arched as tears formed in her eyes. Blessed release. She felt another wave build on the first, Lara having continued her tongue sensations. Michelle cried out as the larger wave took her and she again struggled against herself. She finally forced her body to relax, spent and quivering. She touched the top of Lara's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Porch.html (12 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:29 AM


head, letting her know that she was finished. Still gasping for breath, Michelle whispered quietly into the night, "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you." Her soft voice continued to disturb the night until Lara's mouth touched hers, silencing her with her own scent. "You're welcome," Lara whispered. After a moment of recovery, Michelle propped herself up on her elbow. Lara smiled up at her, "What?" she inquired sweetly. "Your turn," Michelle gasped out. Michelle found herself with her mouth sucking gently at Lara's erect nipples. Lara's soft moans and cries were music, disappearing into the night. As she sucked gently, she trailed her fingers down Lara's soft skin, stopping as she encountered the panties still on Lara's hips. She traced Lara's mound through the thin fabric, teasing her until Lara's whispered cries began to get more urgent and on the border of begging. Michelle's fingers pushed at the elastic, urging it down Lara's legs, accepting Lara's help as she arched her body. Soon the panties had flown into the night and Michelle's fingers were gently exploring Lara's secrets. Michelle wanted the touch of Lara's mouth. She hesitated, knowing that she'd taste herself, but she wanted the touch. She raised her head from Lara's heaving breasts, touching Lara's lips, surprised that her own scent and taste was mildly arousing to her. Her fingers continued to tease Lara, finding her rhythm and gently circling Lara's swollen clitoris. Lara took a deep breath, held it, still returning the gentle kisses. She arched, her whole body showing her climax as it rushed through her being. Eventually, the orgasm subsided, Lara's pleasure melted into the darkness. Michelle's fingers trailed gently back over Lara's hot skin eliciting further soft cries from the nude girl. Michelle, suddenly exhausted, reached behind herself, pulling at the corner of the comforter. She pulled it over herself and Lara, nestling back into the crook of Lara's arm, loving the softness of her bare breast as a pillow. She breathed deeply, the air carrying a curious mixture of sex and clean mountain air. She knew that she was going to sleep soundly tonight. A mist had begun to settle over the small clearing, muting the light



of the moon. Far away, a lonely wolf howled, its voice echoing though the mountains and over the nearly exhausted women. "I'm glad I found you," Lara whispered. "Me too," Michelle whispered in the moonlight. As the women slipped gently into dreams of each other, the ancient oak of the porch sighed to itself in contentment and wonder.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

War - Crimson Dragon

War © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== War (FF, cons, war) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - June 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== It had begun suddenly, like Satan's hand descending onto an ill-prepared world. An innocuous burst of crimson lit the night sky and then her small office like a low power camera flash. Kristen held her breath as she sat behind her large ebony desk, waiting for the inevitable rumble to carry across the ruined city. At last it came, washing across the room like far away thunder. God, how she wished it had been thunder. She began to shake, but willed the tremors from her body. She took a deep breath and stood. She could see her reflection in the dark glass of the windows as she rose to her feet. The fluorescent lights built into the ceiling bathed her in an ethereal spotlight keeping the darkness of the outside world at bay. Her long blonde hair flowed around her face, almost like a halo. She knew she wasn't an angel, not even close, but she didn't deserve to die. Not tonight as surely she would. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (1 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


Another flash, off to her right, burned its way across the cityscape. Even at this distance the flashes almost blinded her. She touched the glass of the huge window, pressing against it lightly and feeling the coolness beneath her fingertips. She'd heard that some lawyer, years ago, before all this, before she was born, had tested the glass by jumping against it. Stupidity, gravity, glass and weak adhesive had won, earning him a prestigious Darwin nomination. She doubted that she could repeat the dive, but it was better than the alternative of simply waiting. Perhaps she would attempt the jump later, if she could bring herself to conquer her instinctive fear of heights. She could wait a while yet; it would be some time before they came for her. She could see the tiny people so far below as she leaned lightly against the window. Small ants running along Bay and King streets. The cars and taxis were in gridlock under the streetlamps, belching up noxious gases into the smog ridden downtown atmosphere. Everyone was frantic to leave. They wouldn't escape. They couldn't escape anymore than she. The smoke was already beginning to drift down towards the lake from the fires surely burning to the north and east. She closed her eyes as the next rumble washed over her senses. She shivered knowing more lives had just been extinguished. She turned, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She reached for the phone, knowing it was useless even before the small speaker reached her ear. Only the harsh whine of feedback issued from the device. No dial tone. She allowed a tear to fall down her face. She had desperately wanted to say good-bye to Jake. But that wasn't to be. Even if the phones worked, there was no guarantee that he wasn't already dead. She closed her eyes and prayed silently into the uncaring room. Her mind flipped back in time. She had only been a young girl when it had begun. It had begun slowly. Riots. Demonstrations. She could barely remember the beginnings. She vividly remembered her father taking her to the parades. But the parades had been so much more and she hadn't understood. It had been nearly twenty-five years ago. She had been too young. But she had grown - grown into a smart, beautiful young lady. And her father had perished in the early Gender Wars. Now, she understood far too much. The violence. The Gender Wars. The Labour Wars. The Environment Wars. The Race Wars. Wars without end. There had never been an end. Not really. Not for her. It was coming to a head directly outside her window. This was different, more severe, more final. This would be the last war, she could feel it with a certainty that would not be denied. Just a glimmering of understanding of something that simply wasn't comprehensible. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (2 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


She cringed as another explosion rocked the city. Three years ago. A terrorist bomb on the Yonge subway line. She still remembered the flash of heat and light, the screaming, the interminable wait, trying to comfort the injured, the dying, ignoring the dead. Bombs. Guns. Violence. The outside world had erupted into her private subway train. She closed her eyes trying to shut out the cries that still haunted her. She wasn't alone with her daemons. Not in this world. She wondered if this building had been targeted for demolition with her still inside, or if she would be hunted and killed by the stormtroopers along with everyone else. If she couldn't jump, then she silently hoped that her building would collapse. It would be better than the terror of the stormtroopers. Fear ground into her stomach like a red hot iron pressed deep into her soul. She tried to will it away, but wasn't very successful. A startled scream escaped her lips as the lights extinguished, plunging her into an inky darkness. It was a moment before the low power emergency beacons turned on. She knew that their meager light wouldn't last long, but she was grateful that they still worked. She hated the dark. She moaned softly and rocked in her leather chair, hugging herself. Another rumble penetrated her numb mind, louder and closer than the others. She rose again and walked slowly to the windows, pressing her nose against the glass. They had gotten the tower. She couldn't remember when the tower had been built, it had been before she was born. It had always been there. A landmark when she was lost. A sentinel in the night. It's flashing lights a comfort - a beckoning to home. She closed her eyes as it toppled. The main feature of the city skyline tumbled down in a cascade of concrete and steel. She moaned as she realized that it hadn't fallen towards the lake, but the tons of concrete and steel had crashed northward, probably into the fashion district near Spadina. Probably on purpose. Her tears began to fall again as she comprehended the staggering loss of life involved in this one act of war among many. The victims wouldn't have survived anyway, but this was small comfort. She would join them soon enough. It was happening so quickly. She'd heard on the six o'clock news yesterday that this was expected. Rumours of cities simultaneously hit followed by the countryside. Quelling the problems. Eradicating the problems. Burying the problems. She had thought that this city had seen enough, that there was nothing more that could happen here, but

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (3 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


her eyes convinced her that there was so much more. So much more to live for; so much more to die for. She took a deep breath. This was happening the world over. New York. Los Angeles. Mexico. London. Paris. Moscow. Sydney. Tokyo. Beijing. Singapore. Washington. And Toronto. The loss of life was staggering. She fell to her knees as her legs refused to support her weight. She didn't even know what this war was about. Who was the enemy this time? And millions, perhaps billions of people, gone as though they had never laughed, cried, hated and loved. As though they had never existed. Most not even knowing what they were dying for. Like Kristen. She slowly rose to her feet again, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to die. She contemplated the door. She knew she should flee. Run. At least try to escape. At least try and hide. But she couldn't. It wouldn't help. She would be gunned down in the street; she knew that. She returned to the window, helplessly. The small ants were still pouring out of the buildings into the streets, only to be met with gunfire and death. The ants were now lying motionless far below. She could almost hear each cry of agony as the uncaring bullets ripped apart bone and flesh. She could see the stormtroopers behind their white masks, firing, adding to the mayhem. Small white insects in a sea of red. So much blood. So much unneeded blood. And for what? She felt the nausea rising but she fought it down, falling back to her knees on the carpet. The thoughts flew through her mind like a mantra. "I will not be sick. I will not be sick." The rumbles had become nearly constant, the gunfire, the missiles, and the explosives combining as though the fires of hell had descended into this innocent world. Perhaps they had. Kristen barely heard the hesitant knock at her door. The soft sound melted into the constant beat of the war outside. She had fallen sobbing to the floor, curled up, trying to block out the screams and the rumbling. Kristen looked up fearfully. She had thought that the stormtroopers wouldn't be this far yet. But she'd been wrong about the war not affecting this city. Not that running would have saved her. Even if she'd run last night. They would have found her. But at least she would have been with Jake, perhaps had a few more days. She calmed her overactive nerves. They had many buildings to search. She forced herself to stop sobbing and lie still. The stormtroopers wouldn't http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (4 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


knock. The knock came again, a little stronger, but not much. This time a small frightened voice floated through a lull in the war raging outside. "Kristen?" a female voice called quietly. It took Kristen a moment to understand who it was. She was sure that Janet had gone home. She closed her eyes, wishing that Janet had gone home. Then she wouldn't be here for this. Then she wouldn't have had to die here, too, in this damn office building. At least she'd be with her husband when they came for her. Kristen forced herself off the floor, pushing on her hands to right herself. She walked slowly to the door and opened it. Janet was standing framed in the doorway, sobbing into her hands, looking like a small, frightened fawn. "Janet?" Janet raised her face from her hands, a look of relief radiated across her features despite the tears. She looked awestruck that the door in front of her had even opened. Kristen couldn't remember if Janet had ever used her first name before. Secretaries didn't use given names in this company, though Kristen had fought to change the policy. But all that didn't matter anymore. "Thank God. I didn't think you'd come out." Kristen guided the shaking girl into her office and gently shut and locked the door. "I thought you'd gone home," Kristen spoke to the frightened girl. "I would have come to find you earlier." Another flash and explosion rattled the windows making both women jump. They ignored the chairs in the room and sat down on the carpet, Janet melting into Kristen's embrace. Janet sobbed, "I. I wish I had gone home. We're not going home again, are we?" Kristen slowly shook her head, her blonde curls swishing past Janet's



head. "I'm sorry," Kristen whispered. But she had no idea what she was apologizing for. Being a realist, perhaps. Janet squirmed out of Kristen's arms and crawled towards the window. "Don't look," Kristen whispered. Janet pressed her forehead to the glass, still on her hands and knees, tears beginning to form again in her eyes. "Oh my God," she whispered as her eyes took in the carnage below. "I know, sweety. I know." Janet crawled back, lying her head into Kristen's lap. Kristen idly played with Janet's brown hair as she watched the night and the flashes, She listened to the thunder that wasn't thunder. It made no sense. "I don't want to die," Janet murmured as she rose to her knees. Hesitantly, she embraced Kristen, pulling her close. Kristen closed her eyes, trying to forget the sounds of war and whispered back, "I don't either. Believe me, I don't either." She grasped at Janet pulling her tight. She could feel the warmth of her body through her suit, felt her feminine body, Janet's breasts pressing against her own. Flushed, they released one another. Janet knelt back. "Can. Can I stay?" Kristen smiled gently. "Of course. I don't want to be alone either." "I. I couldn't get a hold of Brad. The phones died." "I know. Jake. Same thing." Tears welled up in Kristen's eyes as she again realized that Jake was gone. Gone with everyone else. Gone from her, forever. She hoped that she'd see him again, on the other side. But if God allowed this to happen, she wasn't so sure the other side was much better, if it was even there. And if it was, how was she going to find Jake with so many people there? http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (6 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


She felt Janet touching her face. The soft fingers trailed down her cheeks, gently wiping away the tears. She opened her eyes to see Janet's face so close she could touch her with her tongue if she wanted. She felt herself do it. She wanted to forget so much, it seemed right. Her tongue traced along Janet's soft lips before she could stop it, or even realize what she was doing. Janet kissed her back, tears falling down her face. The touch of her lips felt electric. Tingles raced through Kristen's body. Kristen was surprised that she could feel anything but numbness. Janet pulled away, only slightly, tears pouring from her eyes. "They're gone. Aren't they?" she whispered. Kristen swallowed. She felt it, at least in Jake's case. He was gone, probably in the first wave. If Brad wasn't gone, he would be soon. She'd always been realistic, one of her many faults. Kristen slowly nodded, watching as Janet sobbed, unable to provide her any reassurance. Finally cried out, Janet moved forward and offered her lips again to Kristen. After a moment of hesitation, Kristen kissed her, gently and sensually. The kiss caused more tingles; the tingles felt so much better than the numbness. She could feel Janet's hands on her, pulling gently at her clothing, moaning, and gently crying out. Thoughts of Jake, and her love for him, flitted through her mind as she fell into Janet's comfort. She knew somewhere that this wasn't quite right; she'd never wanted a woman before. She still loved Jake. But it didn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing did. She wanted the comfort of another person. Male, female didn't matter. She needed to be held. Didn't want to go through this alone. And Jake wasn't here, and never would be again. The explosions and gunfire were getting closer and her fear was lessening as Janet's hands and lips touched her. Janet had stopped crying, concentrating on Kristen. Kristen could feel Janet's body gently against her, not shaking anymore. Kristen closed her eyes, feeling the softness of Janet's lips against her own. She felt Janet's fingers tugging at her jacket, playing with the buttons of her blouse between her breasts. She swallowed heavily and let Janet pull the jacket from her. It fell in a crumpled heap beside the kneeling women. In another time, in another place, the crumpled jacket would have bothered her, but she was sure that she wouldn't ever put it on again. Wrinkles or bloodstains didn't much matter.



Kristen felt the cool caresses of Janet's lips against the skin of her chest and the tops of her heaving breasts. She moaned softly into the roar around her, pressing herself into the distraction of Janet's comfort. She felt her hands touching Janet's body as though her hands possessed their own volition, stroking Janet gently through her silk blouse. Her heart rate, already accelerated from the cracks of the guns, sped up further. She was acutely aware of her pulse pounding into her ears, overriding the noise from the street below. Almost as though her hands belonged to someone else, she watched her fingers pulling at the buttons of Janet's blouse. Her own blouse was sliding softly down her arms. She'd never undressed a grown woman before, nor been undressed by one, other than herself. She couldn't believe she was watching her fingers do it. But she needed to touch that soft skin, hold her, have her. The explosions got nearer. Her breath caught as she thought she heard a rumble from the building beneath her knees. The building stood firm, whatever had hit it, and Kristen let her breath out in a long even flow. Her fingers hesitated a moment, but her mind screamed that they didn't have much time. Janet rocked back on her heels, her blouse hanging loose around her shoulders, Kristen's fingers having released all the buttons from their entrapment. The blouse tantalizingly concealed her, but Janet's indented belly button peeked out teasingly as the silk parted with her movements. Slowly, tears in her eyes, Janet rose to her feet, kicking away her high heels. She hesitated, cringing as multiple explosions rocked the street below. It sounded like cars exploding like popcorn, but neither woman looked out the window. With her eyes locked on Kristen, Janet slipped her skirt down her legs. Kristen, still on her knees, watched as Janet was silhouetted by a bright flash through the night. The rumble washed over the women, making Janet stumble forward. The windows rattled ominously. A thought came unbidden through Kristen's mind. "If the windows break, I can jump." A sense of futility rushed through her mind as she knelt there watching as Janet struggled to return to her task, doing her best to ignore the noise and brutality behind her. Janet kicked away the skirt, letting it fall beside Kristen's jacket and blouse. In other times, Kristen would have been surprised at the garter belt and stockings gracing Janet's body. It seemed incongruous with her business attire. She could see that Janet also lacked a bra beneath the hanging silk blouse, but she probably already knew that http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (8 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


unconsciously from her previous explorations. Janet's panties slipped gently down her legs, over the stockings. They joined the small pile of clothing beside the desk. Closing her eyes, Janet lowered her shoulders, allowing the silk to flutter to the floor. Another explosion silhouetted her in the window, lighting her bare upthrust breasts in a hot crimson light. She stood quietly, gazing down at Kristen, waiting. Kristen looked at the soft, gentle, nude female above her, so starkly contrasting with the outside world of harshness and pain. Kristen reached behind herself, unclasping the hooks of her brassiere with a practiced ease. Taking a deep breath she allowed the material to fall forward off her shoulders. She fought a nearly impossible desire to put the underclothing back on, hide herself. She had always been shy in the gym showers. But a glance at Janet standing tall and unabashedly naked in the muted light convinced her to release the underwear with the rest of her clothing. She willed herself to hold her arms at her sides, allowing Janet to see her, strangely enjoying Janet's silent observation of her body. She rose to her feet. With her shoes, she was two inches or so taller than Janet. It took a moment for her mind to realize what the discrepancy was. She pushed off her footwear with her toes and stood even with Janet once again. She moved silently into Janet's arms, weeping quietly onto her shoulder. Janet held her, tears of her own falling without care. The women felt more than heard another rumble from deep within the building, their feet tingling with the sensations. The outside world melted again as Janet touched Kristen's lips with her own. The electric currents of desire flooded through their senses, forcing the terror and the noise to fade into a shadowy mist of touches. Kristen was only aware of her lips and her hardened nipples gently rubbing against Janet's soft skin as she breathed. She could feel Janet's nipples pressing into her skin like small embers from the bombs. The war again faded into the background, as though it never existed. She felt Janet's fingers urgently pulling at her slacks, releasing the clasp and the zipper in one motion. She allowed the fingers to release her from the material, the light fabric pooling around her ankles. She gasped as she felt Janet's fingers gently pulling the panties from her hips, feeling the cotton sliding down her legs for the last time. Janet was kneeling easily, indicating with touch for Kristen to join



her. Kristen stepped out of her pooled slacks and underclothing, pulling her socks off with her toes. She fell to her knees as another explosion rocked the city. It sounded like something, perhaps one of the factories on Lakeshore, had exploded with the fierceness of the ancient gods. The women fell into one anothers arms again, pulling their bodies together tightly. The desperation and closeness of the embrace ignited them again. As one, they kissed, lowering themselves to the floor. Kristen cried out softly as she felt Janet's fingers between her legs, parting her, exploring. She hesitated but felt her own fingers seeking out Janet's breasts, her secret places. Janet was gasping for air, breathing hard and irregularly, pressing her body into the touches, taking and giving the comforts of her body as she could. When Kristen opened her eyes, she noticed the emergency lights fading like a flashlight with old batteries. They were barely illuminating the room, and within minutes would fade completely. She moaned as she felt yet another rumble vibrate through the floor below her bare back. She'd never felt an earthquake, but she thought that this just might be what people in California lived with everyday. The light faded as fingers explored, and loved. The flashes and explosions retreated again into oblivion as touch overrode all other sensations and awareness. Janet's fingers withdrew, and Kristen opened her eyes in confusion, longing for the return of the touch to release her from reality. Her world crashed back into her senses. Janet was crawling towards Kristen's feet. The emergency lights had completely failed, leaving the room lit only by the occasional bright flash and the flickering red of the fires. Kristen gently spread her legs a bit wider as Janet lay easily between them. Kristen's involuntary scream was a mixture of fear and pleasure as Janet's tongue lightly caressed Kristen's being. Kristen thought she felt fingers entering her, the softness of the tongue finding her swollen center. Stroking. Pumping. Kristen's eyes closed as she struggled to match the unfamiliar rhythms of Janet's love. She strained to concentrate on her rhythms and not those of the irregular explosions from the city, but it was so difficult not to jump at the loud ones. Jake had known her body in a way that Janet was just discovering. But Janet knew a woman's body. She adapted quickly, finding the rhythms that it had taken Jake months to determine. Tears welled up, but http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (10 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


Kristen forced them out of her eyes as she concentrated on ignoring the insane world around her, forgetting about Jake as best she could. Only Janet and her, loving each other in the midst of chaos. Kristen took another deep breath and held it as she strained to match her rhythm against Janet's fingers and tongue. She rocked her bare body, finding her arousal synchronizing with the intensity of the battles outside, wanting for her climax. Needing her climax. The trapped air whooshed from Kristen's lungs as she screamed in terror and surprise. Impossibly loud noises close by drilled into her head, so loud that she clapped her hands tightly over her ears. It took her numbed mind a moment to realize that the fire alarm had finally engaged. The sirens and bells penetrated into her senses denying her the release she so desperately needed. So close. She nearly cried again in her frustration. The world was intent on denying her - intent on destroying her completely. She felt the first drops of the fine mist against her burning skin as the sprinkler system kicked in, soaking both Janet and her. She closed her eyes against the spray, crying out in frustration and adrenaline induced panic. Janet, surprised and frightened by the fire alarm as well, stopped her ministrations as she, too, screamed. The women's voices almost harmonized with the alarm. Janet threw herself upwards, frantically crawling and lying on top of Kristen as the water descended around them like a cold April shower. Janet desperately kissed Kristen, trying to ignore the icy water and the terror, desperately trying to make it all disappear. In awe, Kristen realized that the alarm and the water did nothing to diminish her arousal. Kristen could taste herself on Janet's lips. Her own taste, vivid on Janet's lips, intensified her arousal. She had never tasted herself before, not even with Jake. She felt herself throb, and she moaned into Janet's kissing mouth. Crying and kissing, the women waited, pressing together and shivering. At last, the falling water stopped, the internal building water pressure spent. With a last loud tone and a crackle, the fire alarm silenced. The city was eerily silent, only her own pounding heartbeat and Janet's laboured breathing registered on her frightened brain. With a single gunshot, far below, the explosions began again. She couldn't tell where they were -- where people were dying now -- but it wasn't as close. She took a breath and touched Janet's bare, wet



shoulder. In her life, so long ago, she would never have imagined that she'd be lying in her office, making frantic love to a woman, nor making the suggestion that was imprinted on her mind. Janet's head hung like an angel's above Kristen's eyes. Janet's soaked hair plastered to her head and dripped onto Kristen's bare body forming small beads of translucent, flickering red water on her heaving breasts. Almost in relief that they were still alive, Janet gently laughed. It seemed cruelly out of place with the explosions and the slowly dripping water and the agonized screams, but Kristen felt it as well. Her belly convulsed and she found herself laughing despite herself. "I was so damn close," Kristen whispered. Janet simply laughed harder but still gently. "The world hates us, Kristen. The world hates us." At last the giggles subsided and the women melted back into a gentle kiss. "Sixty-nine?" Kristen hesitated, but made her suggestion in a whisper. She couldn't believe that her mouth had formed the words. She had never suggested it to Jake. They had just done it. Janet merely nodded and adjusted her position. Janet's sex glistened above Kristen, the icy water and Janet's own wetness joining together to emphasize her arousal. Both women shivered as the dampness evaporated from their skin. Goosebumps formed in the worst places, Kristen realized as she reached up to gently pull the other woman to her. She could feel the tiny bumps rising on her bare breasts, and could see them gracing Janet's thighs. Her nipples felt tighter than she could ever remember. The discomfort of their shower faded into the background with the bombs and the war as Janet's tongue and fingers again found Kristen's center. Janet squirmed and gasped above her, as Kristen touched another woman with her tongue for the first and last time. The taste was exquisite and she lost herself into the sensations from the light explorations she was making with her mouth. She lost herself in Janet. Unconsciously, she could hear the war getting closer. The explosions were getting stronger, and louder; less time between the flashes of light and the rumbles. She had to concentrate more on the woman above her to block them out. She thought she could feel another more ominous vibration below her, through the floor, but she wasn't sure if it was her shivering, or her lover, or something worse. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/War.html (12 of 14)8/15/2005 12:11:57 AM


She could feel Janet pressing against her caresses, finding her rhythm. The women were moaning together, finding the same rhythm, driving through the chaos, desperately searching for peace. Simultaneously, both women held their breaths, both struggling to experience their unique climaxes. Dimly, Kristen was aware of a larger, brighter flash of light, brighter than the fireworks that she normally saw when she orgasmed. The explosion of noise was almost instantaneous and deafening. The windows imploded inwards as the women crashed through their climaxes, showering their soft skin with tiny flecks of tempered, tinted glass. The women screamed as their bodies strained against their own muscles, arching, feeling the pleasure and pain wash over them. Slowly, Janet moved her body from Kristen, small cuts covering her, bright red leaking slowly from a few tiny cuts from the shattered glass. The room was brighter now. The flickering light became stronger as if the fires had moved closer. As Janet lay beside Kristen, they kissed gently. The carnage, the screaming, the pops of the guns were much closer now that the windows no longer protected them. Kristen noted with tears in her eyes that the TD center had been gutted. It hadn't collapsed, yet, but fire and flashes of explosions were constant from the building across the street. There were no windows in the blackened structure, and she doubted if her building had any windows left either. Strange, irrelevant thoughts flickered through her mind. Did a missile or bomb hit the TD center? Either way, it just as easily could have been her building. She didn't know if it was a blessing or another torment that they'd been spared. The smoke from the outside world was billowing into her office through the broken glass, choking the women and stinging their eyes. She allowed herself to hug Janet, afraid to move because of the glass and their unprotected skin. They didn't need to move. Their bodies pressed gently together, embracing, gently kissing, stroking soft, still damp skin. Kristen dimly heard the gunshots, realizing that they weren't only from the street below. Somewhere, down the hall, someone screamed and then horribly silenced. She looked around, fear beginning to surface in her belly again. She could feel Janet shaking beside her, gently crying. Praying. She fought against the panic rising in her being.



"We can go through the window," Kristen whispered to her lover quietly. She felt Janet shake her head, still sobbing into her bare breasts. "I. I can't, Kristen. I'm sorry. I'd like to be here with you. As long as I can." Kristen kissed Janet's wet cheek one last time and lay her own head back, feeling the grit of the glass under her damp hair. She wasn't sure if she could force herself to jump anyway. A strange sense of calm returned to her as she held Janet. Kristen heard the doorknob rattle and she held her breath. She closed her eyes, hugging Janet closer, crying out involuntarily as the door crashed open. A white boot tinged with red and Janet's fine brown hair as she kissed the top of her head, were the last things she would ever see. "We beat them," Kristen whispered to Janet.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

No Tomorrow - Crimson Dragon

No Tomorrow © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== No Tomorrow (FF, cons, light/first bond, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - May 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== The sound of the surf crashing against the sand relaxed her a little. The rhythm of the waves reminded her of the gentle love that she had shared with Mark, but that was gone, and she was long over it. She pursed her lips and rocked gently on the sand, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked around through the gathering dusk. She was alone. The palm trees were rustling quietly in the salty wind. The beach bar had closed long ago. She sighed as the butterflies returned to her stomach, but all she could do was wait. She wondered what the others were doing, whether they had missed her yet at dinner. She intensely hoped that they wouldn't come looking for her. Not tonight. She leaned back on her hands, feeling the warmth of the sand under her fingers. She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes, fascinated that she could control the small digits so far away. She closed her eyes, allowing the salt and the wind and the rumble of the surf to http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (1 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


wash over her, infusing her with peace and solitude. Her belly gurgled a little. She knew that she was missing dinner, but this was far more important to her. She could do without food for tonight. She slowly climbed to her bare feet, the sand almost harsh between her toes. She walked down to the water's edge. The warm waters of the Caribbean touched her skin. She couldn't believe that the water here was so warm, clear and blue. Such a change from the northern lakes she was used to. She bent to pick up a small shell. She turned it over in her fingers finding the imperfection that she knew would be there. She idly wondered what tiny creature had worked so hard forming it. Smiling, she tossed the small shell back out into the water, barely seeing where it landed amongst the waves. Night fell quickly here, dusk had given way to darkness while she walked along the beach. The half moon and the stars gave her enough light not to stumble and to find her way back to her possessions. She idly noticed that the stars weren't the same as those in the northern skies. She sighed again and made her way back to one of the multitudes of empty lounge chairs. The chairs seemed like lonely statues parading down the expanse of the deserted beach. She settled her body into the chair, letting her towel and beach bag drop carelessly into the sand. She adjusted the back of the chair, finding a comfortable position and lying back resting her head. She stole one more hopeful glance around the beach and then closed her eyes, listening to the relaxing surf again. *** She cried out at the unexpected whisper in her ear. "Rachel? You asleep?" Rachel fought to control the surge of adrenaline pumping into her bloodstream. She opened her eyes, realizing it was only Sara, crouching beside her chair. "Jesus, you scared me," Rachel managed to breathe. "I'm sorry," Sara spoke quietly, her lower lip protruding in a pretend pout just before a smile broke out on her face. She lifted her hand. "Here. Maybe this will make it up to you." Rachel reached out, still trying to calm her heart. She picked up the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (2 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


muffin from Sara's hand with a smile of thanks. "Blueberry," Sara smiled back. "I thought you might be hungry so I stopped off at the buffet and grabbed it for you." Rachel took a quick bite of the treat and felt the rush of saliva almost hurting as she swallowed. She regarded Sara. Her long blonde hair was flowing in the sea wind, her face was gently illuminated by the moon and stars. She was wearing ripped jeans and a short sleeved shirt. Sara's eyes were shining, that much Rachel could see, but the dazzling blue of Sara's eyes simply wasn't visible in this muted light, no matter how much Rachel tried to make out the colour. Sara knelt easily in the sand, waiting patiently for Rachel to finish her small supper. Rachel finished and leaned back into the chair. "Why don't you pull up a chair?" she asked Sara. "Don't want to. I'm fine here." Sara was still on her knees, resting back on her heels. Sara's hands were playing gently with the sand, letting the fine grains slip through her fingers. The women sat quietly for a while, just listening to the sounds of the ocean, and enjoying the silent company of each other. "You want to go swimming?" Sara asked quietly. Rachel turned her head and looked at the kneeling woman. "You got a swim suit under there?" Sara gave Rachel a mischievous grin and shook her head slowly. "But ..." Rachel began her protest just as Sara rose up on her knees and touched Rachel's lips with her finger. Rachel watched, fascinated, as Sara climbed to her feet, kicking off her running shoes. She wasn't wearing socks. "You. Can't." Rachel managed to blurt out as Sara pulled her shirt off in one quick motion, letting it drift to the sand at her feet. Her bare breasts shone in the moonlight, her nipples already swollen in the warm night air. Sara's soft lips turned upwards into a daring smile as she toyed with the top button of her jeans. She pushed her jeans slowly down her long legs, letting them pool at her ankles. No

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (3 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


panties anywhere in sight. "I'm not skinny dipping," Rachel couldn't help but laugh. Sara stepped out of her pants and spread out her arms towards the heavens. She turned quickly on the sand, waiting for Rachel's approval. Rachel smiled up at Sara as she finished her spin to once again face the seated girl. Rachel threw her legs over side of the chair, sitting up. She reached out, intending to gently touch Sara's bare leg. Sara, seeing the movement, danced away teasingly. As Rachel rose to follow her, Sara ran lightly to the water's edge making small footprints in the wet sand. Rachel walked down to her at a more sedate pace, trying to walk in the bare foot impressions left by Sara's small feet and grinning at Sara's playfulness. The nude girl was fairly dancing on the sand, waiting impatiently for Rachel. As Rachel approached, Sara nearly leapt into her arms, embracing her and swinging her around. "You have any idea how dangerous this is?" Rachel whispered into Sara's ear. Sara tossed her head. "We're both good swimmers. And neither one of us has eaten in a half hour. Muffins don't count. Didn't your mother teach you anything?" Rachel mind hitched. Yeah, her mother would be really proud of her, prancing around a beach in the Caribbean with a naked woman she'd just met. Her mother had never quite forgiven her for breaking up with Mark. This would give her a coronary. "Did your mother teach you to go skinny dipping at night in unfamiliar water?" "Yes, as a matter of fact. She taught me to have fun, silly girl," Sara retorted. An evil grin slipped across her features. "Come to think of it, she also told me to always wear clean underwear. I wonder if not wearing any counts? Come on, you scaredy cat. Nobody is around." "I'll go in with you. But I'm not taking off this bathing suit." Rachel glanced down at the modest blue two piece that graced her body. It looked almost black in the muted light.



Sara tilted her head and let her lips brush lightly at Rachel's. Then laughing she broke the embrace and ran into the Caribbean waters with a small cry. Still laughing, she broke through a small wave and stood in the shallow water, buffeted by the waves. Her hair was soaked, her bare body slick and shining as she grinned at Rachel. "Come on," she cried above the sound of the surf. Rachel walked into the water, cringing as her bare feet prodded at the sandy bottom, searching for footing and balance. The water was warm, but still, the shock of entering it raised goosebumps on her arms and legs. She followed Sara who was pushing her way through the waves. Rachel screamed as a whitecap broke over her body and soaked her top to bottom. She looked up, wiping salt water from her eyes to see Sara watching her and laughing. "Wet enough?" Sara called as she dove beneath a crashing wave that again hit Rachel full force. Rachel fought her way out to waist deep and stood shivering. Sara swam over through the shallow water and stood beside Rachel. Playfully, Rachel grabbed at Sara, getting her arm. She pulled the girl to her, hugging her fiercely. She could feel the sensations of Sara's bare, hardened nipples pressing into her skin; a sensation that it had taken her a while to get used to, but now she wasn't sure she could live without. Rachel felt her hands cupping Sara's exposed breasts gently. Sara gasped as Rachel's fingers found her tightened nipples and pressed into the touch. She threw her arms around Rachel's neck and returned the embrace. "I love it here. With you," Rachel whispered. "I could stay here forever." "I know, sweety. I know," Sara murmured. Another wave crashed over the girls and they felt themselves pulled towards the beach, their feet leaving the bottom. They remained in their embrace, finally finding the bottom again and rising, kissing gently, eyes closed, feeling the sensations of the water and their bodies. Rachel could feel Sara's fingers touching her back, stroking, and caressing the wet skin. She felt Sara's soft lips on hers, feeling the heat building in her body. Heat like she'd never quite felt with



anyone else. A distant part of her mind was crying out that Sara was a female, that this wasn't right, but the closer, more sensual part of her mind fought the conditioning and accepted the arousal despite her buried protests. Even if it wasn't right, it felt right. Another distant part of her mind felt Sara's fingers releasing the ties of her top. Another wave crashed over them, not as large, but Rachel felt her top falling away from her body. The water against her unprotected skin felt odd somehow, but not as wrong as she had originally thought it would. No worse than a shower, just a little cooler. Instinctively, she reached out, trying to grab at the tiny bit of material, her upper modesty slipping away into the dark ocean. She missed, feeling almost a sense of loss. Sara touched her face, bringing her back into the kiss, whispering that the top would wash up on the beach. Rachel could feel her now bared breasts lightly pressing against Sara's. The wetness, the closeness, the sensations all built into her arousal. She could feel Sara's fingers exploring her body, lightly stroking, touching her through her bikini bottom. She gasped as she felt the teasing touches beneath the water. Sara ducked, releasing Rachel from the embrace. Rachel felt the bottoms of her swimsuit being pulled down her legs, stopping at her ankles. Sara surfaced just as another wave unexpectedly crashed down over them knocking Rachel off her feet. As she kicked to restore her balance and get air, she felt the last hope of modesty slip over her bare feet and through the turbulent water. As the girls rose, Rachel pulled at Sara intending to protest her impromptu, involuntary striptease. Sara grinned at her mischievously. "Come on," Sara cried out, lifting her arms and pulling her breasts into a beautiful position, glistening in the moonlight. She began moving uncertainly towards the shore, the waves and the light undertow fighting her. "You can't be serious. We have to find my suit. I can't get out like this. What if someone comes?" "Nobody is going to come. And even if they do, who cares?" "I do," Rachel whispered to herself. But she knew that she had to get out of the water eventually. Sara grasped Rachel's hand, easily entwining their fingers together. The nude girls walked carefully out of the water, still laughing as the surf covered them and impeded their progress. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (6 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


Rachel felt the goosebumps rise as soon as she left the salty water. Licking her lips, she tasted the strong flavour of the salt on her skin. She shivered and ran towards her lounge chair, picking up the towel from the sand and wrapping herself in it. Sara walked over to her, gently pulling at the towel. "You don't have to hide, you know. It's dark. And nobody but us is around." "I. I guess. But my friends ..." "Have better things to do than to search around after you." Sara finished the thought in a whisper, leaning in towards Rachel gently kissing her. "You can wear my clothes back if we can't find your suit. Okay?" Rachel briefly wondered what Sara would wear back to the hotel if she wore the jeans and t-shirt. She had a pretty good idea that she'd have trouble even getting Sara to wrap herself in the towel. That's what she loved about her. She was nuts. The girls kissed for a moment, until Sara broke it by stepping back, her bare feet covered in the soft sand. "You want to do something different?" "I'm already naked at the beach with only my towel between me and the world," Rachel replied with a rueful look on her face. "Did you bring your shoes?" Thrown, Rachel looked quizzically at Sara, her breathing quickening. "Why?" Rachel asked puzzled. "Just did you?" "Yes," Rachel pointed down at her beach bag. Her running shoes were lying beside it. Sara bent down to the shoes and picked them up. She smiled and began to unlace them.



"What the hell are you up to? Hey. I'm going to have to re-lace them." "I know. Trust me," Sara spoke softly as her fingers continued to pull the laces free. When she was finished she turned and did the same to her running shoes. She rose to stand in front of Rachel who was watching Sara with puzzlement showing on her face. Sara stood quietly with the laces dangling from her fingers, two red from Rachel's shoes, two white from her own. An uncharacteristic look of hesitation graced Sara's features. She spoke quietly, the playfulness disappearing from her voice. "Rache? Listen to me. If you really don't want to do this, we don't have to. All you have to do is say no. Okay?" Rachel, still confused simply nodded. Sara stepped forward and gently pulled the towel from Rachel's body. It fluttered to the ground, the sound of it hitting the sand lost in the pounding of the surf. Sara reached forward, gently letting her fingers touch Rachel between her legs, caressing her. Rachel sighed at the touches, feeling the softness of Sara's fingertips intermixed with the harsher touches of the shoelaces still grasped in Sara's fingers. "Remember, you can say no and I'm not going to be upset or disappointed. Okay?" Rachel nodded, closing her eyes as the sensations of Sara's fingers washed through her being. At the moment, she'd agree to just about anything. "Rache? Sweety? How would you feel about tying me up?" Rachel's eyes snapped open and she stepped back, breaking her connection with Sara's fingers. Sara gazed at her, the hesitation gone now that the words had been spoken aloud. Rachel's face reflected her surprise, but also a measure of curiousity. "You don't have to say yes, Rache. It's just something I wanted to try." "Wh-wh," Rachel stammered. "It's okay," Sara looked a little disappointed, but she forced a smile back onto her lips as she dropped the laces to the sand. "Don't worry http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (8 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


about it." She stepped forward towards Rachel again, arms open to embrace the surprised girl. "Sara?" Rachel fought down the part of her mind that protested at stuff like this and found herself smiling. "Sweety. Pick back up the laces." "Really?" "Really." Sara stooped and retrieved the makeshift ties from the sand. She walked slowly to Rachel's lounge and sat down. Sara watched her toes playing in the sand as she waited patiently for Rachel to get her body moving. Rachel hesitated a moment, but her mind made up, she began to walk towards the lounge as well. Without another word, Sara lay back, placing the red and white laces on her bare belly. She held herself still, positioning her wrists next to the white metal piping that supported the slats of the chair. She spread her ankles and placed them similarly. She closed her eyes and waited. Rachel knelt beside Sara, feeling the sand pressing into her knees. She let her fingers trace slowly down from Sara's chin between the valley of her breasts, through her belly button, and down her left leg. She brushed idly at the sand coating Sara's bare feet, playing with her toes. Rachel swallowed heavily. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered as she picked up the red laces that used to hold shoes to her feet. She idly caressed Sara's flat stomach as she tried to figure out how to begin. Sara whispered to her, "Rache? I want this. Honestly. It doesn't have to be tight or anything." She paused. "Touch me. Please? You'll see." Rachel took a deep breath and let her slender fingers drop down between Sara's outstretched legs. She could feel the heat of Sara's anticipation before she had even felt the softness of Sara's body. She let her finger glide between the slippery lips, easily finding the swollen clitoris and giving it a light stroke. Sara cried out at the first touch, squirming as though she was already bound, her fingers gripping the sides of the chair.



Rachel took a deep breath and withdrew her finger, eliciting a soft moan from the nude girl in front of her. Rachel had never tied anyone up before, and wasn't familiar with knots. She sighed, and began to do her best. She carefully wrapped each offered limb, first the ankles, then the wrists, forming standard knots that she fervently hoped that she could undo quickly if necessary. Rachel silently wished she'd paid more attention when her mother had made her attend Girl Guides that one year. Sara lay back, enjoying the sensations of her restraint, breathing harder as the laces held her wrists and ankles securely to her seat. Finally, Rachel rose to her bare feet, studying her work in the diffused light. Sara lay outstretched, tied to the chair, her eyes closed, her still damp body glistening in the moonlight. Rachel glanced around quickly. Still nobody stirring. They were still alone. She briefly considered wrapping the towel around herself again, to give herself some hope of modesty, but decided that the gentle breeze against her skin felt as tender and soft as her lover currently bound to the lounge. She really didn't want to cover up; it was just her skittish mind playing with her again. Rachel's mind raced, not quite sure what to do now that she had Sara helpless. What did Sara want her to do? Making up her mind, she knelt in the sand near Sara's head. The girls gazed into one another's eyes, until Rachel lowered her head gently, allowing her lips to brush Sara's warm lips. They fell quickly into a passionate kiss, their tongues gently touching, exploring one another. Sara, pulled gently at her bonds, wanting more. Rachel rose, smiling. She straddled the reclining woman, allowing her center to rest on Sara's tummy. Rachel gasped as she felt her own arousal quickening with the contact, even such soft innocent contact down there. The portion of her mind connected to her touch senses was driving her to forget her exposure, forget her behaviour, and just feel. Her fingers found Sara's bare breasts, softly kneading them, caressing the soft skin. Rachel bent, letting her tongue gently lick the salt from Sara's breasts, loving the sensations of Sara's quiet moaning and squirming. She felt alive. The feelings washed over her. The emotions of love, arousal, freedom, and trust. Most of all, Sara trusted her with her body. Trusted her enough to want her to restrain her. Trusted her with the most vulnerable time of her life. She leaned forward and kissed Sara gently again on the lips. Rachel slowly moved her body, allowing her to trace her tongue down Sara's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (10 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


soft skin, even licking at the indent of her belly button, making Sara squirm. She finally knelt at the base of the chair, letting her head drop where Sara really wanted her. She pressed herself into the chair feeling the unfamiliar pressure of the chair slats against her bare nipples. Rachel could feel the wind flowing her hair up and over Sara's bound body as her lips kissed gently at the womanhood in front of her. She allowed her tongue to trace the soft folds, darting, exploring, pressing, caressing. She finally found Sara's rhythm. She could feel the other woman, squeezing gently against her face with her thighs as she struggled towards matching her rhythms to Rachel's soft tongue. They really hadn't known each other long enough to naturally find the pace, but Sara pressed down as best she could against the teasing of Rachel's tongue. At last she screamed into the night, pulling against her bonds as all her muscles contracted in unison without her conscious control. The chair quivered as Sara's body arched. Finally spent, Sara opened her eyes, gazing in an afterglow of pleasure at her lover still kneeling at the base of the chair. Sara pulled against the laces, and laughed. Rachel knelt and watched Sara as she fell from her peak, a smile of understanding gracing her features. She had felt like that so many times this week, and she loved giving back some of that pleasure and freedom to Sara. Her fingers worked at the knots at Sara's ankles. As she worked, she let her lips touch the tops of Sara's feet, feeling the fine grit of the sand with her lips. The knots had tightened with Sara's struggles of ecstasy and they took some work to release the tangle. Rachel idly wished again that she had paid more attention at her Girl Guide meetings. Or that girls in general were taught to tie proper knots. One never knew when it would be needed. She was having trouble concentrating and she was frustrated, in more ways than one. At last the ties came free and Sara happily kicked her legs up into the air from the chair. As she moved to release Sara's wrists, Sara spoke to her, almost just breathing the words. "Rache? Thank you so much. I've never felt anything like that. And I've wanted to do this for so long." "What? The exhibitionism? Or the shoelaces?" Rachel spoke as her fingers worked at the knots. "Both," Sara whispered slowly as though confiding in her best friend. "Glad I could help." Rachel smiled.



"You want anything special tonight?" Sara asked with a mischievous grin on her face. "I'm yours." Rachel could feel the tears well up in her eyes at the words, but she fought them off. They'd promised not to cry tonight. "I. I just want to be with you." "You got me," Sara rose from the chair, letting the laces fall to the sand under the chair. She reached forward, pulling Rachel to her and hugging her. She kissed her gently. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I know you are uncomfortable out here. You want to go back to the hotel?" Sara knew that at least one of their rooms would be free. At least until after dinner was over. Rachel considered. She liked the cool breeze on her skin, and the soft gritty touch of the sand. Despite the danger, she didn't want to wait. She slowly shook her head and grinned at Sara. She pulled Sara from the chair. Both girls fell laughing into the sand, rolling, not caring what tomorrow would bring, just enjoying one another. Rachel ended up on her back, feeling the harsh heat of the day still seeping gently from the sand beneath her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on hearing the surf beside her and feeling Sara's soft fingers touching her, tracing her bare breasts, teasing the nipples. She gasped as she felt her nipples hardening still further under Sara's knowing caresses. She could feel Sara's hands brushing away loose sand from her skin. She felt so alive. Slowly, too slowly, Sara's nails traced down her body, playing in her belly button, toying gently with her sparse hair down between her legs. Rachel cried out, not caring if anyone could hear as Sara's fingers gently parted her, touched her, and caressed her aching clitoris. Sara slowly teased her, until Rachel begged quietly for her release. She felt Sara enter her with her finger, first one then two. She felt full, but it was wonderful. She gazed up at Sara's face hovering over hers, intently watching her arousal in the moonlight. She reached up, pulling Sara's gentle lips to her own, kissing her, tracing her lips with her tongue, tasting the sea. She felt her fingers touching her own nipples as Sara's fingers continued their tease between her legs. "Please?" Rachel whispered. Sara let her fingers stay on Rachel, kissing her, caressing the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/No_Tomorrow.html (12 of 15)8/15/2005 12:12:11 AM


swollen sensitive flesh of Rachel's being. Rachel found herself moving to the rhythm of the sex, moving to the rhythm of the pounding surf, pressing herself down and feeling the pleasure wash over her bare body. She arched, crying out into Sara's mouth, gasping for air as Sara's fingers coaxed her into yet another quick contraction. Finally spent, she fell back to the sand, crying softly, digging at the sand around her with her heels and fingers. She'd never felt a multiple orgasm before, and she thought that she'd died and gone to heaven. She gazed up at Sara, whispering "Thank-you" over and over until Sara kissed her again, silencing her. The girls held each other, listening to the surf, gently kissing from time to time. The night crickets began their nightly song somewhere beyond the palms. "I could stay here all night," Rachel whispered, her head cradled on Sara's breast. "I know, sweetheart. I know. It's peaceful." "I don't want to go home tomorrow." "Shhhh. We promised." "I know. But I'm going to miss you. Horribly." Rachel felt her tears welling up, despite all her will and promises. Sara gently stroked Rachel's hair, feeling the salt and sand in it from their swim and roll on the beach. Sara loved the feel of it almost as much as Rachel liked the touch of Sara's fingers stroking through her tresses. "I'm going to miss you too. I don't want to leave either. Sweety, I feel it too." "Will you come visit me?" "I doubt if you could keep me away. Now, shush. Let's enjoy tonight as much as we can. There's no tomorrow. Okay, sweetheart?" Rachel felt her tears overflow silently; her tears traced down her flushed cheeks and fell eventually to Sara's bare breast. She knew that Sara could tell she was crying, but she didn't care. As her tears fell, she felt Sara's body hitch underneath her. She struggled for control, knowing that her tears would just cause Sara to cry as well.



She wasn't a baby. She wasn't naive. She had known that this night would come. She wiped gently at her tears. The girls lay quietly in the dark. Sara spoke softly. "Rache?" "Mmm-hmmm?" Rachel was afraid of speaking too much. "You want to sleep in my room tonight?" "What about Janice?" Janice was the girlfriend with whom Sara had arrived and was sharing a room. They were good friends, but not intimate. At least not like she was with Rachel. "I think Janice is staying with some guy she met at the disco last night." Rachel raised her head and turned her face towards Sara. She brushed her lips, still tasting salt. "I'd love to." As if by agreement, the girls rose to their feet and hugged, shivering at the simple touch of their bare bodies. "I don't want to go," Rachel whispered, fighting back the tears again. The surf crashed uncaringly into the shore just beyond the naked, embracing girls standing in the sand. It was a moment before Sara could speak, fighting to keep her tears at bay. "I'm going to miss you, too, sweetheart. But there's still tonight. Don't cry yet. There's no tomorrow, while it's still tonight."



Melody - Crimson Dragon

Melody © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Melody (FF) By Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright 1998 -- Crimson Dragon All rights reserved ======================================================================== She moved like a whisper of wind across the floor, her expensive white dress flowing around her body with her movements. Her eyes fixed on her destination, she made her way carefully through the drunken gyrating people on the dance floor. She carried two drinks in her small hands, twisting to avoid the inevitable drunken collisions, otherwise allowing her feet to move to the rhythm of the music as she crossed the dangerous floor. Terri watched her, not because she was interested particularly in her, but because she was bored with this company party. Every year the same thing. Cutbacks had forced the company to forgo inviting spouses or significant others, and who really wanted to dance with your coworkers? Though, apparently, with enough alcohol, plenty managed to have a good time anyway. Terri sipped at her wine as she watched the woman in white reach the president's table. A twinge of jealousy flitted through her body and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (1 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


she found herself leaning forward despite herself. She knew that she shouldn't be jealous of Melody; the girl was just trying to make it in a vicious corporate world, just as she was. And Terri really didn't believe all the rumours surrounding the girl. It was just that Melody was so distant, so aloof and it was difficult to ignore her. Human resources had gone through the channels, she supposed. They had posted the executive management job internally first as required. Terri knew that she hadn't quite had the credentials, but had applied anyway. She'd only met Melody a handful of times, mostly when required - when she had to meet with Preston, to arrange a meeting, or get answers for her superior. Melody had always been more than pleasant to her. She was probably unaware that Terri had applied for her job, and there was really no reason to bring it up. Melody was a bit of an enigma. She always seemed so alone. She ate by herself at lunch, preferring her novels to participating in the idle gossip that the other employees got into. She rarely spoke to anyone, outside of the constant stream of men that pestered her for dates. Terri had witnessed one such encounter just yesterday. Melody had politely refused John from accounting. But after he'd turned away, disappointed, Terri had seen that curious shine in Melody's eyes. Regret? Terri shifted back into her seat, leaning back, her eyes still focused on Preston and Melody. She sipped again at her wine. She didn't believe all the rumours about Melody. They'd probably been started by irate guys that hadn't quite accepted her date refusals. Melody hardly looked like a lesbian, or a bitch, or any of the other labels that were put on her. Neither did she look like the type of woman to sleep her way into an executive position. She just looked like a woman that had the weight of the world on her shoulders and was too young to bear it. Yes, she was stunning, but as far as Terri was concerned she wore a little too much make-up and tried too hard to wear expensive clothing. Her figure was perfect, Terri thought again with a twinge of jealousy. She hardly needed the designer clothes and the cascading blonde hair. She'd look stunning in trackpants and a sweatshirt. Even now, Melody was sitting demurely at the head table, unaware of the others around her, not socializing, almost looking afraid to socialize. Preston bent down and whispered something in her ear. She swallowed heavily and bent her head, not returning any words back towards him. Preston turned back to the Vice President and continued http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (2 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


his previous discussion, ignoring the girl beside him. He was probably deep in discussion on stock options or something. Terri shuddered, suddenly sure that her and Melody were the only sober ones in the place. Even Preston had some colour in his cheeks. Gathering her courage, Terri rose out of the chair. She downed the remainder of her wine and began to walk towards the head table, unsure of what she intended, but sure that Melody was looking unusually lonely. She knew that she'd be the next one facing company gossip if she talked to Melody, but at the moment, she didn't care. She couldn't imagine anyone was even noticing her. Melody's eyes opened wide as Terri approached. It almost seemed like fleeting fear reflected in her eyes. "Hi, you're Melody, right?" "Uh-huh," she answered quietly. "Mind if I sit down? I think we're the only sober ones in here." She girl swallowed heavily and glanced quickly over at Preston. She took a breath. She was about to nod her head, when Preston turned his head, capturing Terri in his gaze. The intensity of the gaze took Terri aback, but she recovered reasonably quickly. "You're Terri Randall, aren't you?" he asked with a definite edge in his voice. Surprised that he even knew who she was, she dumbly nodded. "Terri, don't you think that you might be better off talking to Lisa? Over there?" Lisa was the head of the human resources department. She was sitting at a table surrounded by a gaggle of women, all obviously intoxicated. Terri swallowed, not quite sure if this was a veiled threat, or whether it was merely a way of getting rid of her. Either way, it was a dismissal. "It was nice seeing you, Terri," Melody murmured from her seat, aware of what the exchange meant. Terri frowned, but moved away from the head table. Perhaps it was just

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (3 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


some company business that he didn't want overheard. She could understand that. But why the menace? She moved slowly back to her seat, stopping off at the bar on her way. She carried her wine back and sat again, thinking and sipping at the fresh glass. Melody was talking to Preston animatedly, her hands moving as she spoke. Terri watched, as Preston turned back to the VP and spoke a few words. Then he rose, pulling Melody with him, his hand tightly gripping her arm. Terri watched as he practically propelled the girl in front of him towards the doors. She stumbled along, glancing about. Nobody but Terri was sober enough to be watching. *** Terri sighed as she drove through the shifting snow back to her apartment. The night had gotten worse after Preston had left. A few guys from accounting had even passed out. Terri remembered fending one of them off before he'd fallen into a stupor. He had oozed vodka into her face, wanting to know if she would go out with him and some other bozo from engineering. At the same time. Perhaps it was better that he'd passed out. At least that was one less jerk with whom she had to contend. As soon as she thought she could escape without making a terrible impression, she slipped out of the banquet hall. Breathing a little easier, she said a few good-byes to her friends that were still on their feet, and drove home in silence. After the loud music of the hall, she didn't even want to hear the radio. She pulled into the underground parking and quickly made her way to the building entrance. She glanced around nervously. Even though the building had wonderful security, she still felt uncomfortable in the parking garage alone at night. She slipped into the building without incident and made her way to the elevators. "What now?" she thought to herself as she noted the slips of paper stuck to each elevator door. "Out of Order. Christ," she whispered to herself as she moved towards the stairs. "What a night." Her feet ached and she desperately wanted out of her high heels. She glanced around and shrugged to herself. She kicked her shoes off and picked them up. She knew the stairs were going to play havoc with her stockings, but at this point she simply didn't care any longer. She'd http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (4 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


be losing the stockings as soon as she was in her apartment anyway. As she approached her door, breathing hard from the climb, she dug for her keys in her purse. She heard the phone ringing while the key was still entering the lock. She fought with the door and left it wide as she ran to the phone, dropping her shoes in the front hallway. The phone stopped ringing as her hand found the receiver. She decided to leave it. The answering machine picked up, breaking the quiet of the apartment. Sighing she wandered back towards the doorway, softly shutting the door and letting the machine answer the line. "Hi, you've reached Terri. At the sound of the beep, oh hell, you know the drill ..." The machine droned out a higher version of her own voice. Terri switched on the hallway light, finally glancing at the answering machine. Four messages. She glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty. Who the hell would be calling her at this time of night? As she pulled off her blazer and hung it up, the machine reached its expected beep. Terri's tired mind idly listened to the machine as her fingers began to undo the buttons on her blouse after quickly pulling off her run nylons and dropping them to the floor. She really wanted a bath. Perhaps in the morning. An unfamiliar voice sighed into the machine. Terri's fingers halted their progress with her blouse, leaving it half open. Crank calls made her nervous. Her ears perked up as she decided that she was glad that she'd missed the call. Let the machine deal with the jerk. She moved to the door and carefully locked it. Her fingers began to pull at the buttons again. The caller still hadn't hung up. Terri let the blouse hang on her shoulders as she thought she detected a soft noise in the background of the machine's tinny speaker. Crying? She stepped towards the machine, listening more closely. Her hand reached for the phone, her mind whirling. She was torn between screaming at the person on the other end for cranking her, and finding out if someone was crying on her phone at this time of night. Just as she was about to pick up the line, a soft female voice emerged from the speaker.



"I'm. I'm sorry, Terri. I. I guess you're still at the party. I. I just didn't know who to call," the unfamiliar voice stammered across the phone line. "I'm sorry," the soft voice whispered, in an obvious sob. Terri took a deep breath. Crank callers weren't female, in general. Cranks also just breathed into phones; they rarely, if ever, cried. Terri lifted the receiver, wincing at the feedback from the machine. She switched off the answering machine with her finger, silencing the whine. "Hello? Who is this?" Terri spoke quietly into the phone. A brief silence ensued. "Hello?" "Terri?" The soft voice asked, quivering. "Yes. Who is this, please." "I'm sorry to call so late. It's. It's Melody." "Melody?" Terri's mind fuzzed by fatigue didn't make the connection. "Melody. From the party tonight. I. I work with you. You tried to talk to me tonight ..." Melody's voice trailed off. Terri's mind finally made the connection. "Yes ..." She was confused. Melody never spoke to anyone, much less called anyone, that she knew of. Why her? How'd Melody even get her number? "Terri. I'm sorry. I. Just. Didn't have anyone else to call. I'll leave you alone." "Wait. Melody. It's alright. I don't mind. I just walked in. What's the matter?" Terri struggled out of her blouse, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "Oh God. I. I shouldn't involve you." "Involve me? In what?"



"I'm in a bit of trouble. And I'm scared ..." The voice on the other end of the line trailed off again. "Melody?" Terri let the blouse fall to the ground at her bare feet. "I'm here. I'm sorry. I. I don't know what's come over me." "Are you alright? Have you been drinking?" Terri didn't think the girl sounded drunk, more like hurt and vulnerable. "No. I. I don't drink anymore." "Where are you?" "I'm. I'm still at the hotel. I. I don't know what to do." "What happened? Are you at the party? You left with Preston." For some reason the words caused the other woman to begin crying again. "Melody? Are you still at the party?" Terri repeated, becoming a little impatient with the distraught woman on the other end of the line. "No. I. I'm in a room at the hotel. Preston's room." "Is he there?" "N-no. He left. A while ago." Terri was fighting off her fatigue. For some reason, Melody's voice was conveying fear, anger, hurt and it was disturbing Terri, even though she barely knew the woman. "Terri? You can say no. But. Please. I really need someone to talk to. Can you come here? Or let me come there?" Terri fought her natural instincts to say no, that she was tired, and sore, and beat, and just didn't want to see anyone. Whatever the reason. All she wanted was her bed, and a long bath tomorrow. "Melody, I. I just got home."



"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." "Can it wait for tomorrow?" Terri waited through another quick sob and heard Melody's voice again, "I'm sorry. It's alright. I'll make out okay on my own." Terri fought off all the signals from her eyes that they only wanted to close and find blessed darkness. She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to find out what this was about. She didn't have to be up for work in the morning anyway. And she was used to not getting enough sleep. "What room are you in?" "12B. Thank-you," Melody whispered before hanging up. Terri held the buzzing receiver against her head, trying to make sense of it. Only one way to find out. Terri walked into her bedroom and dressed more sensibly, removing the remainder of the evening wear and replacing it with jeans and a sweatshirt. As she pulled warm socks over her toes she wondered just what Melody was really like. She fought off the scratchiness under her lids again and walked back out to where her shoes lay haphazard in the front hallway. Ignoring the high heels, she pulled a warm ski jacket from the closet and slipped on more sensible waterproof boots. *** She drove slowly through the drifting snow, shaking her head, not quite believing that she was going back, in this weather, to that hotel for someone she barely knew. A small red compact car nearly fishtailed into her. She slowed down further and tried to concentrate on the road. *** Terri rode the elevators in the hotel up to the twelfth floor. At least the elevators in this building worked. Her feet were still aching a little, but she was thankful that she wasn't in the high heels that she'd had on earlier. She approached 12B with trepidation. She didn't even know Melody. Nor why she was in a hotel room. Or why she'd left the party with Preston. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (8 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


A million questions whirled through her head as she forced her feet to move towards the end of the hallway. She stood in front of the doorway emblazoned with "12B" for at least ten minutes. Finally, an elderly lady up the hall wandered out in search of midnight ice. Terri could feel the elderly lady's eyes on her and knew that she looked at best silly and at worst threatening standing out in the deserted hallway at this time of night. She took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her long brown hair, and knocked gently at the door in front of her. The minutes ticked by. The elderly woman returned to her room with a bucket of ice, the closing door sounding hollow down the empty hallway. Terri knocked again, a little louder this time. Suddenly Terri was sure that the knock wouldn't be answered. That Melody had left. Or had fallen asleep, drunk despite her words to the contrary. Or maybe she simply had the wrong room. Sighing, Terri turned away from the doorway and began walking towards the bank of elevators. Her feet whispered in the quiet hallway against the tattered carpet. She wasn't sure if she'd even bother checking with the front desk. She wasn't even sure what Melody's surname was or if the room was in her name. She watched the button light up as her finger pressed the down arrow. She could faintly hear the elevator's rumbling and vibration from deep within the hotel; almost as if it was a slumbering beast awakened by her silent summons. As the doors slid open, Terri turned, having the sense of being watched. She let the doors close without entering the lift. A soft, frightened voice floated down the hallway, echoing in the stillness. "Terri?" Terri didn't complete the turn towards 12B, but closed her eyes, trying to will away the anger. She reached forward, jabbing the button again, angry at having been dragged down here in the middle of the night. This was the absolute last place she wanted to be. Her bed was calling her. The elevator doors obediently rattled back open for her. "Please? Don't go? I'm sorry. I was in the bathroom. I didn't mean to make you wait. I couldn't help it. I'm so sorry." Melody's voice was like a hurt child's. Terri could almost see the tears just from hearing the voice.



Her anger melted and Terri slowly turned back down the hallway. She walked down the corridor, concern replacing the anger from moments before. She heard the elevator doors slide shut again as she approached 12B again. Melody stood in the doorway, her face buried in her hands, her whole body shaking with her crying. She was barefoot. Terri could see her white shoes lying haphazard in the short hotel room hallway, almost like her own were back in her safe apartment. Melody silently stepped aside, still sobbing quietly into her hands, allowing Terri to enter. Terri stepped inside the room, gently closing the door behind her. She felt the automatic locks click as the heavy door closed behind her. She touched Melody's shoulder gently. "What's wrong? Shhhh. You don't have to cry," Terri easily slipped into her female reassurance mode. She fervently hoped that this wasn't just a case of Melody breaking up with her boyfriend. Terri really wasn't much good at comforting even her girlfriends when they went through that. And she was tired. And she didn't even know Melody. Terri took a closer look at the crying woman in front of her, noticing her disheveled appearance for the first time. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess. Her dress was in disarray, even ripped at the neckline. Were those bruises on her wrists? Terri gently touched Melody's hands, urging them down from her face. Melody resisted with a soft muffled cry. "Please no." "Melody. Sweetheart. I can't talk to you with your hands like that. Put them down. Okay? It's okay to cry." Terri dug around in her purse in search of tissue. Melody sniffled and took a deep breath. She slowly pulled her hands from her downcast face, finally holding them at her side. She lifted her face slowly to look teary eyed at Terri. Terri gasped as Melody lifted her damaged face. Her left eye was already swelling a little, and her cheeks were both red with obvious hand prints. Her upper lip was bleeding slightly from the corner, and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (10 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


her jaw looked like it might bruise on the right side under her chin. Tears rolled down Melody's cheeks as she gazed at Terri. Terri finally found her voice. "Oh my God," she whispered. The women stood silently for a few moments. Terri felt sick to her stomach. "Who? How?" she managed to whisper. Melody, with an visible act of will, forced herself to stop crying for a moment. Without a word, she carefully put her hands up like a small child wanting to be held. She embraced Terri, holding her fiercely, shaking. Terri felt the shaking return to quiet sobbing. She allowed herself to hold the woman and let her cry. She heard Melody's small voice quivering. "I'm sorry. I managed to not cry until you showed up. I tried so hard not to." "Shhhh. It's alright. It's okay." Terri heard her voice saying from a place far away. What the hell had she walked into here? Melody pulled herself out of the embrace sniffling and carefully walked into the small room on her bare feet. She lowered herself slowly to the messed up hotel bed and sat with her legs tightly together, her bare toes curling at the worn carpet. Terri followed her after a moment, stopping in the entranceway. Her mind was beginning to fall back into a semblance of order. Melody's face might only be the beginning. Either way, she should see a doctor. "Melody, honey. You have to come with me. To the hospital." "I. I can't." "Of course you can. You have to." Melody fell helplessly into her gentle crying again. Terri moved into the room and lowered herself into one of the hotel chairs. Melody had already been here for quite some time, and she hadn't died yet. She'd have to go to the hospital eventually, but Terri just didn't have the energy to insist. "What happened?" Terri asked gently. Though she had some pretty good guesses at the moment.



Melody swallowed and looked up at Terri. Terri flinched a little at the sight of her face. Melody's mouth opened, and then closed again, a flush burning at her battered face. "It was Preston, wasn't it?" Melody nodded. "What happened? Did he rape you?" Terri could feel her anger building again, this time aimed in a different direction. She moved from the chair to the bed, sitting down beside Melody, and throwing her arm protectively around her shoulders. Melody winced at the touch, but leaned in towards Terri. Comfort being more important to her than whatever physical pain Terri's arm had caused. "Sweety. I'll take you to the hospital." Melody took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in short spurts. "I can't, Terri. I. I'll be alright." Terri waited, just trying to make sense of this. "I. I let him do this to me. I can't go to the hospital." "You what?" "I didn't know he'd do this to me. I really didn't." "You aren't making sense." "I know," she murmured, crying again. "I'm sorry." "Sweety, you have to tell me what happened." Terri brushed the wisps of blonde hair from the woman's brow. "I know you wanted my job. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You are the only one that's ever been nice to me." "Shhhh. Don't worry about the job thing. I didn't even know you knew." "They're right. You know that?"



"Right about what?" "That I slept my way into the job." "You're kidding." "He told me that you were up for the job, but he'd rather have me. I was more pliable." "I'm not following." Melody took a huge breath and seemed to make up her mind. "Terri, I won't blame you if you walk out of here. I'll be alright. I've cried on you enough." She paused for a moment, thoughts waging a small war inside her mind. Her face became less vulnerable and more determined. She drew in another deep breath. "I. I was a hooker before this. That's my qualifications. A goddamn prostitute. Nobody but Preston knows. And now you." Melody began to cry again, her whole body shaking. But she held her eyes on Terri's, forcing some dignity into her being. Terri closed her eyes briefly; her immediate impulse was to shy away from the girl. She re-opened her eyes, and all she saw was a hurting, defenseless, brave girl in front of her. She embraced Melody, not really knowing what else to do. "I got out. Preston gave me a way out," Melody murmured. "He got me off drugs, and gave me a new life. I. I think I fell in love with him." "That doesn't give him the right to smack you around." "I. I know. He just seemed so angry tonight. He's hurt me before, but not like this." "He's hurt you before?" Terri's voice cracked as she asked again, "Did he rape you?" Melody sniffled again. "I. I think he was angry about you. I don't know why. Suddenly we were arguing after you left and he wanted to have me. I couldn't understand why I couldn't talk to you. He never wants me to talk to anyone more than I have to. It's almost like he doesn't want me contaminating the rest of the company." Tears welled



up in her eyes again. She continued, the words beginning to flow out of her mouth like water through a broken dam. "I agreed to leave with him, I was hoping to calm him down. He already had the key to this room. Like he was expecting this." She closed her eyes. "It's not like I haven't had sex before, so I thought I could calm him. And we did." Her face flushed. "We had sex. Rougher than normal, but I didn't mind too much. Until he really started to hit me. Oh God. I'm sorry." She began to cry again. "I. I just didn't think he'd do this much damage." She paused, trying to control her crying. "He finally left. I. I guess he got tired of hitting me. He left the key. And some money." She pointed at the bedside table where the electronic room key was dangling over the edge attached to a keyring emblazoned with the hotel name. Some large bills lay beside the keys as though tossed there casually. "When I saw my face in the mirror I just couldn't move for the longest time. I finally called you. I didn't know what else to do. I called directory assistance, you were listed. And you weren't home for so long. I'm sorry for calling you so late. I couldn't. I didn't. I was sick. I'm so sorry for making you wait at the door, but I couldn't help it. I was so sick. I. I couldn't get up off the bathroom floor." Terri took a deep breath and held the shaking girl in her arms. "You won't let me take you to the hospital?" "I can't." Terri gently probed at the swelling and bruises already forming on Melody's face, making the injured woman cry out in pain. Nothing felt broken, she'd be sporting a nice black eye and bruises for a few weeks, but she'd live. If there wasn't anything else wrong. "Come on." Terri picked up the girl's hand, meeting no resistance. She gently guided her to her feet and led her to the small bathroom. No tub, just a shower stall. She gently helped Melody remove the expensive and now ruined white dress. Her white bra was torn, and her panties were completely missing. Maybe she'd never been wearing any. Terri, feeling a bit out of place, let her eyes take inventory of the nude girl in front of her. No obvious serious damage. Just a few bruises beginning to form on the girl's breasts, about the size of Preston's fingers. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (14 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


There were some small bruises forming on her arms and legs, and maybe one near her ribs on the right side. Melody seemed to suffer the inspection easily, not particularly self-conscious about her nudity, but cringing when Terri had to touch a sensitive spot with her fingers. Terri reached into the shower, twisted the knobs and was rewarded with a strong hot spray. She turned around to see Melody still standing nude, eyes closed, tears falling slowly down her features. She touched Melody's bare shoulder and guided her into the shower. Melody gasped as the hot water hit her. "You going to be alright?" "You can stay, if you want," Melody whispered. "You don't have to leave. I. I really don't want to be alone." Terri mentally sighed, not used to or wanting to watch another woman in the shower. "Alright. I'll stay." She leaned back up against the dirty sink, averting her eyes as Melody cried out each time her body twinged while she washed. Finally she stood under the spray just letting the warm water ease her body. Terri glanced at her watch, feeling her eyelids lowering again. She fought off the fatigue for what seemed like the millionth time. Melody stepped dripping out of the shower, her hair plastered to her head, but looking a lot better than when she had stepped in. Terri handed her one of the woefully inadequate hotel towels, and watched as she dried her hair and body. Watching this naked girl stirred her in parts that she'd rather not think about at the moment. Embarrassed and uncomfortable at her reaction, Terri gave Melody a quick weak smile and walked out of the bathroom, leaving her to finish drying herself alone. Perhaps she was more tired than she thought. Fatigue combined with sympathy causing the tingles? She tried to convince herself of that as she moved back to the main room. In the main room, she rearranged the blankets on the bed, quickly making the bed. Melody walked into the room, still gloriously naked. Terri looked up at the other woman, questioningly.



"I. I couldn't put it back on." Tears were brimming in her eyes again. "And he took my panties. I'm sorry. I'll get a robe." She turned to walk back to the bathroom. "Wait. Melody. Just come here." Terri spoke gently to the bare woman. Terri folded back the covers, indicating that Melody should get into bed. Melody knelt down on the bed and shuffled over to Terri, pulling her into a quick embrace. "Thank-you, for helping me," Melody whispered as her soft body pressed into Terri's. Melody released Terri and carefully lay herself down in the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin wincing at the aches in her body as she moved. She closed her eyes and probably didn't even hear Terri whisper quietly, "You're welcome." Terri sighed, knowing that she couldn't leave the woman. She'd take her to the hospital and the police station tomorrow morning. It would mean Terri's job, she knew that, but there were some things that were far more important. She'd find another job. She settled herself back down into the chair to wait for morning, fully intending to watch over Melody, making sure she was alright. Her eyelids slowly lowered. *** Both women were awakened by heavy pounding on the door at four o'clock according to the cheap hotel clock radio on the bedside table. "Fuck. I know you are in there, you little whore. Let me in." Melody whimpered as she awoke. Terri awakened with a small scream, watching as Melody swung her bare feet to the floor. It took Terri a moment to orient herself, realize where she was. Preston was really drunk her fuzzy mind registered as Terri struggled to drive the sleep from her mind. And Melody was moving towards the door, in a daze. "Melody. No. You can't let him in." Melody turned a tear streaked, bruised face to Terri. "I have to." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Melody.html (16 of 18)8/15/2005 12:12:33 AM


"You can't. He'll do that to me as well. Please." Melody's face collapsed into tears as Terri's understanding of the situation sunk in. Terri rose to her feet, realizing that she still was wearing her ankle boots. She kicked them off as she approached Melody, who was frozen, her gaze switching rapidly between Terri and the closed rattling door. "Melody. You fucking bitch. Open the door. I know you are in there," the slurred words washed into the small room. Terri touched Melody's shoulder gently with a shaking hand and guided her back to the bed. Melody was trembling like a leaf, but allowed herself to be taken back to bed, trying to tune out the noise at the door. Melody clung to Terri as a hurt little girl might, and Terri gently lowered her back to the bed. Together, the two women curled up under the covers, Terri lightly stroking Melody's still damp blonde hair, cradling her against her breast. The touches all seemed electric and surreal with the bellowing and shaking from the doorway. Terri closed her eyes, willing away the nausea brought on by the adrenaline racing through her veins. She reached for the phone and called the front desk. Soon the noise from the hallway disappeared. The indignities and cursing eased into the distance, as security took Preston away. She held Melody until she stopped shaking and her breathing began to return to a normal regular rhythm. Terri's heart was still hammering as Melody raised her face, her eyes heavy. "Thank-you. I would have opened that door," Melody whispered in the darkness with a shudder. Her bruises were hardly visible, and her face almost looked as stunning as it always did. In this soft light, one could almost forget she'd been beaten. Terri felt herself move her head forward, lightly brushing at Melody's lips with her own. She thought that she could taste copper as she kissed Melody. She sighed, not knowing where any of these feeling were coming from, but knowing somehow that they were right. Melody returned the soft kiss before lowering herself back to cradle her head against Terri's shoulder and breast, her arms holding Terri tightly. Melody fell into a light disturbed sleep, her breathing becoming



somewhat regular against Terri. Terri held her, wondering again what the hell she'd gotten herself into. Shortly, far too shortly, the morning sun emerged over the eastern horizon and streamed gently into the hotel room, touching both girls' faces. A new day had begun.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Wolf - Crimson Dragon

Wolf © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Wolf (MF, rom, light bond, oral) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - May 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== The mouse scurried carelessly through the grass, searching. Alert eyes, also searching, watched patiently. His eyes were drawn to her. It was hard to ignore her. She sat alone on the other side of the smoky bar, watching the people as they laughed, and cried, and imbibed. She looked stunning wearing a dark evening dress that tantalized but also looked oddly out of place amongst the tattered jeans of the other patrons. Her long blonde hair sparkled as the flashing lights of the spinning disco ball touched her. A flash of red, perhaps a rose, was grasped between the fingers of her left hand. He hadn't seen her come in, but he was reasonably sure that she would walk regally, just by her posture as she sat. It was a little difficult to tell in the dim light and with her sitting, but she looked like she would have a stunning figure as soon as she rose off the stool.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Wolf.html (1 of 10)8/15/2005 12:13:01 AM


Yet another drunken fool attempted to pick her up. He'd watched this scene perhaps twenty times already. The drunken fool tries some unheard pickup line. She flashes a glorious smile, pats the drunk's arm and politely refuses whatever his offer was. If the fool isn't too drunk, he generally moves away, a disappointed look on his face. If he persists, she speaks a few more words to him, minus the smile and the gentle pat, and he moves away, a more frightened look on his face. This one moved away with the disappointed look. She shifted her dazzling brown eyes towards him. He quickly looked away, but not quickly enough. When he glanced up, she was still staring at him. He flushed, but held her eyes for a moment. She gestured, motioning him over to where she was sitting. He took a deep breath and walked the length of the bar to her. She leaned towards him, raising her voice above the music. "Rum and coke, please? Easy on the rum?" He snapped back to where he should be, nodded, and reached for the bottle of Bacardi. He poured the drink and placed it in front of her. As he raised his eyes, her deep brown eyes captured him. She smiled sweetly, taking a small sip. "Mind if I run a tab?" she asked. It was pretty notice didn't in the

her first drink, at least that he'd served her, and he was sure he'd notice her leaving. The whole bar was going to her leaving. Generally the bar discouraged tabs, but he mind. He'd buy her drink if she disappeared on him. Any guy bar would.

"Sure thing." He forced himself to turn away from the girl and attend to the others pressing up against the bar. His eyes returned to her after the crush had dissipated. She had turned herself around to watch the dance floor. Her blonde mane cascaded down her back while her body moved slightly to the music, but she didn't rise to dance. Trans-X pounded from the speakers. She fended off yet another drunken fool and returned to watching the writhing people on the dance floor. Someone asked him for a beer. He tore his eyes from her again. ***



The mouse sensed itself being watched in the darkness. It rose up on its hind legs and peered above the grass. The watching eyes remained, unblinking. He became aware of her eyes on him again. He glanced up from mixing a gin and tonic, almost feeling her eyes on him. Nobody had joined her, yet, and last call was rapidly approaching. He idly wondered for whom she was waiting. He had the distinct impression that she wasn't waiting for anyone, that someone, perhaps one of the drunken fools, not her date, had given her the rose in a failed attempt to win her. He willed his legs to carry him back down to her end of the bar. She followed him with her eyes as he approached. He leaned on the bar. Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his voice steady as he asked the simple question. "Anything else I can get you? Last call is in ten minutes." She smiled up at him, her teeth flashing. "I'm fine thanks, how much do I owe you?" Most of her rum and coke was still in her glass. She took another tiny sip of the drink. He took a deep breath and glanced around. Nobody listening. "It's on me." Meatloaf was rumbling about taking the words right out of his mouth over the crowded dance floor. Must have been while you were kissing me. An unbidden image of her lips touching his raced through his mind before he could stop it. She raised her eyebrows almost as though she'd witnessed the vivid fleeting image flashing through his mind. "Thank-you," emerged simply from her ruby lips. She flashed her smile again causing butterflies to surge through his stomach. He swallowed and walked back to the crush that was about to happen with the last call bell. Along the way, he dropped a five into the till. As the last people refilled their glasses and grabbed one last beer, he glanced over to the empty barstool. He thought he could still smell the musky perfume she'd been wearing. Like a puff of smoke, she had gone; he suddenly wasn't even sure she'd been there. He hadn't noticed her leave. Sighing, he returned to the crowd that was clamoring for its last alcohol of the evening. The mouse, sensing the wolf's presence, stiffened. It glanced around, but the eyes had shifted, moving silently through the



undergrowth to regard the prey from another vantage. The mouse resumed its foraging. *** His feet were killing him. He hated Friday nights, too many people, too many drunken idiots. He smiled as he thought of how many that blonde woman had had to fend off tonight. He couldn't blame the jerks. He would have been in there as well being rejected if he hadn't been behind the bar tonight. He couldn't seem to get her eyes out of his mind. And that smile. He glanced around the quiet bar one last time before he pulled the doors shut behind him, using his key to lock up. The wolf shifted its weight, causing the underbrush to rustle unnaturally. The mouse stiffened again, looking around in fright. "Hi," she spoke softly behind him. His breath caught in his throat, stifling a scream. He struggled to control the surge of adrenaline, caused by her appearance. "You scared the hell out of me. Where the hell did you come from?" he whispered without turning. "Niagara." He turned slowly. In the streetlights, she was stunning. Perfect figure. Tall. She looked like she was born to wear the dark dress she had on, had to be some fancy designer clothing. She could easily have modeled it. Her hair contrasted wonderfully against the black. Her small hand still grasped the red rose, though it looked slightly wilted. "Niagara?" he repeated dumbly, confused by her answer. "Yeah. Born and raised. Nice waterfall there," her voice had a mellifluous flow to it when it wasn't fighting the beat of loud music. He was instantly captivated. He searched his brain for some way to keep her talking and failed. She smiled and stood there easily waiting for him, not bothered by his complete inability to get his tongue in gear. She was probably used to it.



"Who are you?" he finally found his voice. He couldn't stop his eyes from traveling her body from her toes to her hair. She flushed slightly at the overt inspection, but stayed her ground. Making up her mind, she smiled and stepped forward, her small hand extending towards him. As she moved closer, her scent washed over him. Poison. "Stacy." He swallowed and grasped her hand. Her hand was smooth and cool to the touch as he grasped it. Red nails. He wondered how long she had waited out here. For him. "Brian." The wolf moved closer, again stirring the leaves. This time the mouse scurried instinctively away toward the hole in the ground where it had made its home. The wolf froze, allowing the mouse to calm. "Stacy? It's been really nice meeting you, but I'm expected." "Expected?" she paused and studied his face. "You aren't expected. It's three in the morning, and you have the look of a bachelor. I can see things. Nobody is waiting for you, are they?" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Are you afraid of me?" she laughed gently. "No. Don't be silly. I'm just tired is all. Just want my bed." "And if I want it as well?" He flushed, not used to aggressive women. She lifted her hand to her mouth, afraid that she'd somehow. It happened, but it was rare. Maybe he was or involved, or something. "I'm sorry. Perhaps that of me. I'll go. I didn't mean to offend you. It was you, Brian."

misread him married, or gay, was too forward nice meeting

She turned on her high heels and began walking away into the night. He stood baffled by the doorway watching her figure move away, the click of her heels ringing in his ears.



"Stacy?" She turned, a questioning look upon her face. "I. You just surprised me is all." He hurried to catch up with her. "You turned down all those men tonight ..." his voice trailed off. "You were wondering if I was into women or something?" she finished his thought. He swallowed again, unsure how to answer this without offending her. She laughed at the look of confusion on his face. Her musical merriment rang up the empty street. "Brian? You looked shocked. That is what you were wondering, isn't it? I've experimented. But that isn't the reason I turned them all down." "No?" "I didn't like them. Simple. I go to bars to watch people, not pick them up. You know you are the first bartender that hasn't hit on me? The customers have an excuse for being dopey, they're drunk; the bartenders don't, generally they haven't been drinking, or at least they aren't supposed to." The mouse stopped it's frantic run and settled back down, the danger forgotten for now. It began scenting for food. The wolf watched patiently. They walked along in silence, only the sound of their footsteps falling into the night. The two arrived at his apartment, climbing the stairs through the silent building. He turned to her before opening his door. "Stacy?" "Mmmmm?" she murmured. "You should know that I wasn't expecting company. The place is a mess." "Is there another girl in there?"



"No." She smiled. "Then I don't mind. A mess just proves you are a normal single guy. Maybe I'll clean it for you in the morning." His heart was hammering as he slipped the key into the lock and held open the door for her. As she entered the small apartment, she kicked off the high heels, her stockings whispering across the hardwood. She glanced around the studio apartment, smiling at the male decor and the mess. He closed his eyes wishing that he'd at least picked up the underwear before heading out to work. As the door clicked shut behind him, she melted into his arms. Her soft lips touched his. Her breathing quickened as she pressed her soft body into his. They kissed for what seemed like hours in the front hallway. She gently guided him, still kissing her, to the bed, their bodies entangled as they fell. She broke the kiss and sat up on the bed, staring at his face. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open and off him. Her breath was ragged and heavy. He felt her soft fingers tugging at the remainder of his clothing until he was nude. She pressed back into him, arousing him, her nylon encased legs sliding along his legs, playing with her toes. She climbed on top of him, teasing his lips with hers, panting. She playfully slapped at his fingers as they reached for her dress. "Please?" he whispered. "You have to do something for me, first." "Anything." "Promise you won't freak?" "You aren't going to pull a Crying Game on me, are you?" She laughed, her musical voice lighting up the darkened room. "Nothing like that." She reached over the bedside into her purse. He stiffened. For all he knew she had a gun or something. It had been known to happen in this city. He prepared to buck her off him if she showed any evil intent. She smiled and showed him what she had in



her small hands. Chrome. It took him a moment to recognize the metal as handcuffs. He swallowed and slowly shook his head. "Stacy? I'm not ready for that." "Not for you, silly. For me. You won't hurt me. I know you won't. I know a lot about you. I cum harder. Please? I'll make it worth your while." He gulped, had heard about these games, but never had the inkling to try them. The mouse glanced around again, suddenly nervous. The wolf gathered her strength to spring, pausing, unsure. With the prey aware, she might not get her dinner. "Please? You can take them off me as soon as we're done. I don't even have to stay if you don't want." He nodded slowly, still unsure, but not seeing any danger in restraining her. He was far too aroused to turn her out even if he wanted to. She stood on the bed and slowly dropped the dress from her body. No bra, her perfect breasts revealed themselves, glowing softly in the light from the window. Her nipples were fully erect, rising and falling with her laboured breathing. She was wearing no panties, merely a black garter belt and nylons. No Crying Game. She grinned at his look of surprise and open admiration of her. "Underwear is so damn uncomfortable, don't you think?" He dumbly nodded as she lowered herself to her knees beside him. She loosely held her wrists behind herself and allowed him to close the steel around her. She pulled at them, satisfied. She turned back to him. She bent, trailing her soft tongue down his stomach, across his belly button to his throbbing penis. She teased him, using her lips and tongue to arouse him further. The sight of this perfect woman, naked and helpless, and arousing him was pushing him to the point of no return. He touched her bobbing head. "You can climax into my mouth," she whispered, stopping her teasing briefly to speak. "I don't mind."



"I'll be useless for you if I do that." "You have a tongue, too, don't you?" He felt her warm lips engulf him again as she continued. Her tongue teased him on each downstroke, her hands rattling the chain holding her. Unable to stop the sensations, he felt himself tighten thrusting up into her mouth, all his muscles contracting in unison. He cried out as he felt her swallowing. The mouse sensed the wolf as it became far too late. She sprang, surprising the small creature. The mouse dodged and raced through the grass, the wolf's paw missing it by millimeters. Spent, he fell back gasping into the pillows. He looked up at her. She smiled at him and struggled to move herself to straddle his face. It took some gymnastics with her hands bound, and he had to help her, but she managed it. He found himself staring up between her smooth tight thighs anticipating her taste. She took a deep breath and lowered herself until he could reach her. His tongue traced down her lips, eliciting gasps of pleasure from the girl. He darted inside briefly. She was more than ready, her moisture coating him as he teased her. Her swollen clitoris was throbbing as her head swam with fantasies. His tongue finally found where she wanted. She pressed herself down, letting him know silently where she wanted him to remain. Slowly he circled her until she began to beg quietly, her wrists twisting in the metal just above him. His fingers traced her soft skin as she gasped. His tongue lightly stroked her center until she, too, found her muscles contracting without being in control. She screamed his name as the waves of the orgasm washed over her body, pulling viciously at her trapped wrists. Eventually, she collapsed on top of him and after a few moments of trying to catch her breath, she moved herself around to lay her head gently on his chest. Both of them struggled to control their breathing, enjoying the afterglow. He stroked her blonde hair gently as they relaxed further towards sleep. He had a nagging thought that he should release the girl, but fatigue fell upon him and her too quickly. They slept, her still uncomplaining in her chains. The chase was over almost as fast as it began. The mouse dodged once



in the wrong direction and the dance was complete. The small creature briefly felt the powerful teeth close. Juice is like wine. *** He awoke to the afternoon sun streaming through the open shades. He barely remembered last night. It seemed like a vaguely erotic dream, ethereal like smoke on a mirror. He turned over to an empty bed. It could've been a dream, but he could still taste her, feel her on his lips. He was sure it had happened. He sat, feeling an emptiness to the apartment. He struggled out of the sheets and stumbled to the bathroom. The tub was still wet from her shower. Taped to the mirror was a small chrome key and a slip of paper. A single wilted red rose was placed carefully in the sink. "Thank you for last night," the note read. "To offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses." It was signed in red pen. Two tiny roses and a small drawing of a wolf. She was gone.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Four Seasons - Crimson Dragon

Four Seasons © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact Harvest Moon · Christmas Presents · Easter Tears · June Revelations

======================================================================== Four Seasons: Harvest Moon (FF, rom, light bond, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - April 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== The small stones against the glass sounded as loud as a hundred tiny gunshots in the stillness of the night. Kate cringed, positive that she was going to wake up the entire household. She stood motionless on the back lawn, still breathing heavily from her run but ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of disturbance. She wasn't even sure that Linda would be there, much less if she would respond to their old signal. A diffused light switched on in Linda's old room, not the main light, a bedside lamp perhaps. Kate's breath caught in her throat. She didn't quite dare to look up to the second story window. Instead, she studied her feet. Her running shoes were dusty from the mile run from her parent's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (1 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


homestead. She'd taken the old path through the fields that wound between the Miller and the Gibson properties. In early October, the path wasn't the awkward mudpit that it was in May. The bottom of her blue jeans were also dusty from her jog and she brushed at the dust with her hand. She had remained here on the back lawn for fifteen minutes or so catching her breath and trying to decide whether or not to continue this crazy adventure. She had taken a deep breath, told herself that she had nothing to lose, and tossed the stones gently up to the second story window. She didn't even know if Linda was home for the Thanksgiving holidays. Kate heard the sash rise quietly. Her breath hitched and she prepared to dash into the shadows. Faintly, she heard a horse whinny in the darkness to the right. "Kate?" Linda's voice quietly floated down from above. "Linda?" Kate whispered into the night. She looked up. Linda hadn't cut her hair since the last time she'd seen her. Linda's long brown hair hung down like Rapunzel's, silhouetted by the soft light of the bedside lamp. Linda leaned out into the darkness. "Just a sec. I'll be right down." "Don't wake anyone up." Kate whispered back urgently. "Have I ever?" Linda quietly closed the window and Kate could faintly hear the lock click. Moments later, the light was extinguished in the room. Kate settled herself on the ground and hugged her knees. She knew that it would take Linda a few minutes to get dressed and sneak out of the house. That fourth step creaked and Linda always had to be cautious of it. Kate felt the butterflies begin in her stomach. She was accustomed to their appearance, but by now she had expected the tingling to reduce on these midnight visits. Granted, it had been a while since they'd seen one another. She hadn't even heard from Linda since September when they'd parted to attend different Universities, University of Waterloo for Kate, Queen's for Linda. Kate didn't even know if Linda felt the same way anymore. University had a way of changing people. She heard the faint sound of the back screen door; the hinges had always creaked a little. Kate watched as Linda emerged as a silhouette. She carefully held the screen door and prevented it from slamming shut as though she'd had years of practice. Linda turned and scanned the dark http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (2 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


yard for Kate. "Over here." Kate whispered from the shadows. Linda turned towards the sound and ran across the yard. Kate smiled in the dark as Linda practically leapt into her arms hugging her fiercely. The two girls held each other for a few moments until Linda spoke. "God, I've missed you." They parted. In the faint light, Kate could make out that Linda hadn't even bothered with clothes. She stood barefoot in the grass wearing only her flannel nightgown. She was breathing heavily and was flushed. Linda's perfect breasts rose and fell beneath the white fabric as they gazed at each other. Linda whispered, "I wasn't sure you'd come." "I almost didn't." "I'm really glad you did. I've missed you." "I missed you too. I. I guess I just wasn't sure you ..." "Felt the same?" Linda finished her thought. "Of course I do. Don't be silly." Linda stepped in quickly and kissed Kate's lips in reassurance. Kate felt Linda's fingers entwining with hers as she broke the kiss. The kiss had been far more passionate than a friendly peck. Kate sighed contentedly; Linda still felt the same. The butterflies trapped in her belly flew off to bother someone else far away. Linda began to lead them off towards the barn. As they moved away from the sleeping house and down the dirt path, the girls began to talk a little more normally, their voices melting into the darkness. "I was sure that those stones were going to wake up the world. I'm surprised it didn't wake *my* father up." Kate was referring to the clattering of stones she had thrown lightly at Linda's window to wake her. "Well, they certainly woke me up with a start. I don't think they woke up anyone else, though. Never have before. I was having a nice dream too. Surprised that I didn't wake up the house. Managed to stifle the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (3 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


scream, I think." "What were you dreaming about?" "You. Me. The apple tree." Kate blushed. "I like that." They lapsed into silence as Linda pulled open the big barn doors. The doors creaked horribly loud in the silence. The horses shifted uneasily in the dark. "Shhhhh. Shhhhh. It's just me and Kate. Shhhh." Linda spoke quietly to the animals. The horses reacted to the familiar voice and quieted, snorting in the pitch darkness of the barn. Linda and Kate petted the outstretched noses as they passed the stalls. Kate smiled at the memories. Linda and herself riding like the wind through the fields and forests together. She giggled as her memories flooded back of that summer day three or four years ago. Linda had come up with the crazy idea of both of them pulling a Lady Godiva together. Thank God she hadn't listened to Linda and hadn't left their clothes at the stream as Linda had suggested. Someone must have been watching over them that day when Kate had spotted Linda's brother riding out to tell them that lunch was ready well before he'd spotted them. She remembered that Linda had still been arranging her t-shirt as her brother had found them. Neither of them had had time to put on their underwear. "The Lady Godiva thing?" Linda asked quietly after taking note of Kate's giggling. "Yeah." "That was bloody close." "Don't I know it." "How old were we?" "I don't know. Fifteen? Sixteen maybe?" Linda laughed quietly to herself as she rooted through one of the tack closets at the back of the barn. "Dammit. I should have grabbed a flashlight." She pulled a few items free and turned to Kate. "These do?" Kate smiled at what she saw in Linda's hands. "If you want to visit the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (4 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


Tree, it'll be fine." Kate lifted the old picnic blanket from its home on a back shelf and threw it over her shoulder. "You sure you want to do this?" Kate asked Linda. "You know we can just sit and talk. We have a lot of catching up to do." "Are you telling me that you don't want to do it anymore in your subtle way? I want it more than anything in the world," Linda replied as they exited the barn and closed the doors. The shrieks of the hinges sounded like small banshees in the stillness. "It's all I've been able to think about for a month and a half." "Me? Not want to? I knocked at your window didn't I? At great personal peril, I might add." The two girls began walking towards the south field, softly talking and catching up. Their quiet conversation flitted easily between professors, classes, new friends, and their families. The corn stalks were still standing, though it was late for harvest. A light wind ruffled the field. The two girls stopped and gazed up at the sky. A billion points of light were glittering above them. Kate gasped. She touched Linda, pointing towards the eastern horizon. Linda stood transfixed staring at the bright, full, amber moon hanging motionless in the sky above the fields. Kate touched Linda's shoulder again breaking the trance. "Harvest moon," Linda breathed. Silently the girls continued. They entered the ocean of corn, gently pushing their way through the field. A lone wolf howled somewhere off in the distance, but beyond that the only sounds in the night were the rustling of the crop and the girls' laboured breathing. In the middle of the field stood an ancient apple tree untouched by farmer or storm. The tired old tree no longer even bore fruit. It silently watched over the fields like a lonely sentinel lost in the night. A small grassy clearing surrounded the tree where the plow had never touched. The clearing and tree were lit eerily bright by the now full moon. With no warning, the peaceful place heard the patter of small feminine feet, one pair bare, the other in running shoes. Kate sighed as she spread the blanket down under the old tree. She sat http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (5 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


down, motioning for Linda to join her. Linda sat facing her and they just held hands, staring at one another. "It's been a long time." Linda's voice was almost reverent. The last time they had sneaked out to the Tree was probably early summer. They'd seen each other many times since then, intimately even, but the Tree was special. They didn't want to break the magic of the place by meeting here too often. "It's been too long. You sure you want to do this?" "You ask me everytime. And you know that I do," Linda whispered. Almost like a hesitant lover, Linda leaned over and kissed Kate softly on the lips. Her hands wrapped around Kate's neck; her fingers connected holding Kate close. Their lips met with a tingle of electricity. Kate gasped quietly as Linda moaned to herself softly. They parted, both breathing harder. Kate gazed into Linda's deep brown eyes and guided her down to the blanket. They kissed again, just holding one another in the moonlight and feeling the familiar curves of one another. Their breasts touched through the nightgown and Kate's light top. Linda broke the embrace and sat up. She smiled and pulled the nightgown over her head. She tossed it carelessly onto the grass beside the blanket. Kate swallowed. She'd never tire of seeing Linda's nudity, no matter how often she had the fortune of having it displayed for her. Linda's high firm breasts caught the moonlight almost making her pale skin glow, her darker nipples high and erect. Kate's eyes traveled over Linda, taking in her long legs, her face, even her dusty bare feet. Laughing, Linda leapt back into Kate's arms, tugging at her clothing. Kate could feel her hands running over Linda's soft skin, exploring this person for whom she had ached so long. She felt her own top leaving her body. She raised her arms to make it easier for Linda to disrobe her. She felt Linda tugging at her jeans. She hadn't worn underwear tonight in the hopes that she wouldn't be needing it. Kate whispered Linda's name as she felt her jeans being tugged down her long legs. Kate's shoes disappeared into the darkness and she felt herself become as nude as her friend. She felt the warmth of Linda's bare breasts lightly touching her own. Their nipples brushed sending tingles up and down their spines. The two girls were breathing hard, kissing passionately, and allowing their fingers to lightly caress one another. A month, nearly two, of abstinence made itself intensely known in both girls.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (6 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


Kate felt Linda's fingers tracing down her belly as she laid back. Linda teased her by running her fingers lightly along her lower lips, only occasionally touching inside. Linda leaned down, lightly teasing Kate with her tongue, just enough to make her squirm and cry out. Sighing, Linda crawled back up and kissed Kate full on her mouth. Kate gasped. Her arousal intensified tenfold as she tasted herself on Linda's lips. "You ready?" Kate whispered, breathing hard. "I. I was born ready." Linda gasped. Linda knelt and Kate scrambled to get the soft ropes that Linda had retrieved from the tack closet. If Linda's father had any idea to what uses his eldest daughter put his rope, he'd probably die of a heart attack on the spot. Linda held out her slender wrists in front of herself, watching and shivering as Kate tied them together. When Kate had finished, she pulled idly at her bound wrists. She knew that she was never going to get free. Kate had been doing this to her for far too long to allow her to wiggle free easily. Linda squirmed as her arousal increased with the sensations of the rope holding her wrists. She sighed as she got to her bare feet and padded over to the Tree. Kate followed a few steps behind. Kate guided the bound woman to the eastern side of the Tree. She wanted Linda to be able to gaze at the stunning moon if she wanted. Linda walked willingly to that side of the tree and raised her hands above her head. Kate stepped back and regarded the picture. What she saw was her best friend, gloriously naked in the bright moonlight, with her bare breasts pulled up deliciously, her bound hands reaching for the sky. Linda's long brown hair curled delicately over her shoulders and down her back. Linda trusted Kate and waited quietly, enjoying the inspection with a shiver. Kate took a deep breath and stepped forward again. She secured her friend's hands to a low overhanging branch with a short length of rope threaded through the lashing holding Linda's wrists. Linda shuddered. She knew that her freedom was gone. She and the tree were one tonight; no way to separate herself from it until Kate let her go. She idly wondered if this Tree was aware of her bound helpless to it, if the Tree could ever remember her after she was gone, if it missed her. She almost felt like part of the Tree when she was here like this. She wondered if any other girls had ever been secured to it in the past, like her. A smile graced her face as she remembered the multitude of http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (7 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


picnics with her family, right here, with her knowing her secret about this place. She wondered if anyone could ever imagine that she had made love countless times with Kate right here, on the same picnic blanket. Could anyone guess that she had stood here, like this, at midnight, so many times? Could anyone absorb the vibes from the favorite blanket, or could the tree tell them what it had witnessed? Linda's mind wandered back to her situation. She trusted Kate completely, but she could still feel nerves in her stomach. What if Kate decided to take off, got angry with her, and left her here, naked and bound to the Tree? How would she explain that to her parents when she was found? She would rather die. Kate could run and Linda had no way of stopping her. The tingles of her helplessness pulsated through her body as her arousal continued its upward climb. She loved it here, loved the sensations. Kate had knelt in front of her. Linda gazed down at her naked friend, silently begging with her eyes. Linda slowly parted her legs as she felt Kate's fingers urging her. She felt the rough texture of the grass beneath her feet and she felt the tension increase on her bound arms as she lowered her body closer to Kate. It was all part of the experience. Linda cried out as she felt the first light and teasing touches of Kate's soft tongue as it traced along her most private parts. She could even feel Kate's soft breath against her thighs and Kate's small hands cupping her bare bottom. Kate teased her for what seemed like hours and may have been. Linda's cries filled the field and the night. They wouldn't carry to the house, but the clearing reverberated with her gentle moans. Kate's tongue finally darted inside, teasingly found Linda's clitoris and lightly stroked it to the rhythm to which they were both so accustomed. Linda lost herself in the stimulation, feeling her restraints, the helplessness, the openness, the moon and the raw sensuality. She exploded as Kate's tongue relentlessly touched her and Kate's fingers teased her bare skin. She pulled at her wrists, writhing as her muscles contracted and lights exploded behind her closed eyelids. She whispered Kate's name as her breathing became short and ragged. Kate's tongue continued to tease her until the last strains of her climax had subsided. Linda had to gently push the other girl away with her bare foot, letting her know that she was finished and completely spent. Kate knelt back on her heels, her face slightly damp with Linda's secretions, very aroused. She smiled up at Linda who was just hanging by her wrists, her legs not having the strength to support herself after the climax. Linda had waited two months for that climax. And Kate had waited two months to give it to her. Knowing that her friend was going http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (8 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


to want to stay in the ropes for a few minutes afterwards, Kate rose to her bare feet and kissed her friend on the mouth. Linda responded greedily to the kiss and pressed her bound body against Kate. Her tongue traced along Kate's lips. Linda murmured after the kiss was broken, "Katie? Can I do you in a few minutes? I know you're hot and bothered. I promise I'll do you. I'd just like to stay here for a second? Okay? Please?" "Of course, sweety. Take your time. I can even do myself if you want. You know I don't mind." Kate whispered to the restrained, tired woman. Kate sank to the grass, feeling the odd tickle of the turf against her vagina and her bottom. She could still feel the waves of her arousal washing through her senses, all her senses heightened and sensitive. Together they gazed at the moon; it had risen higher in the sky shedding more light on their illicit meeting. Kate could not remember ever having seen anything quite as lovely or peaceful in all the time that she'd been with Linda. She felt Linda shifting her weight beside her. Recovering, Linda closed her legs and supported herself more with her feet than her wrists. Linda softly sighed. After what seemed like an eternity, Linda whispered, "Katie? Thank you. I've been waiting months for that." She paused. "God, I wish we could be together." "We are together." "I guess I should be happy with what we have. I am. Really. I am." "I know, honey. Your father wouldn't understand. And even if he did, the good Reverend's church wouldn't. And I love them all like my own family. I don't want to hurt them anymore than you do. We can't tell them. I understand. Really I do." The girls paused, still absorbed by the bright globe hanging silently in the night above them. "I'm ready." Kate looked up at Linda. "Ready?" "Ready to be let down, you silly girl." Kate rose to her feet and released the rope holding Linda's hands in the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (9 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


air. Linda sighed and pulled down her still bound hands in front of her. Kate reached for Linda's hands to release them, but Linda pulled back a bit. "Leave them. Lie down. It's your turn," Linda whispered. Kate looked at Linda quizzically but obeyed. It was almost a ritual with the Tree. She released Linda afterwards, and then received the most mind blowing orgasms of her life from Linda's soft knowing fingers. Tonight it didn't seem like Linda was going to use her fingers. She closed her eyes and felt Linda kneel beside her in the grass. The grass faintly itched Kate's bare back, but she soon lost that sensation as Linda kissed her again. Her arousal, which had cooled a bit while they'd gazed at the heavens together, flooded back into her body. She felt her nipples rising with the kiss. Her clitoris throbbed at the renewed stimulation. Linda softly kissed her way down Kate's bare body. Her lips found and teased Kate's nipples until Kate was moaning and softly begging. Finally, her tongue traced past Kate's belly button and through the fine thatch between Kate's legs. Kate spread her thighs willingly as Linda motioned them apart with her bound hands. Linda knew the rhythms of her friend. Her tongue darted inside the soft folds, searching and finding the swollen clitoris. She slowly stroked and circled it with her tongue until Kate held her breath and then cried out, arching her body and biting her lip as she climaxed heavily. As she felt her friend coming down, Linda rocked back on her heels. She would never tire of seeing Kate's climaxes. Kate's full body flush was visible even in the muted light. She looked beautiful lying in the grass, eyes closed and peaceful, her breasts heaving as she struggled to control her breathing. Kate opened her eyes and both girls looked at each other. They exchanged a look of pure relief. Finally satisfied. Linda struggled to lie herself down in the grass with Kate, her still bound wrists making the journey a bit difficult. She raised her arms and worked her wrists around Kate's neck. Their lips touched again as Kate's arms wound around Linda's small waist. They moved easily together; their bodies fit as though they'd been designed to belong together. They peacefully held one another, their skin still warm from their exertions. Kate gazed up at the stars as Linda's breathing slowly fell into a shallow, regular pace. Kate turned her attention from the heavens to her friend nude, asleep, and cradled in her arms. Complete trust. She let Linda sleep for a while, simply enjoying her soft presence. Kate's mind wandered back to their life together, their childhood as neighbours, as best friends, and finally in high school, as lovers. She didn't know if http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (10 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


she was in love with this woman or not, but she thought that it could become that. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but right now, with Linda here in her arms, it seemed right. After a while, Kate gently shook Linda. Linda mumbled in her sleep, kicking a bit. Another gentle shake awakened her. Linda looked up sleepily, realized where she was and tenderly kissed Kate's mouth again. "Time to part, again? What time is it?" Linda asked quietly. "I have no idea. But we've probably been out here too long as it is." "I guess. I just don't want to leave." "Me neither sweetheart. But you want to see me again don't you?" "You know I do." "Then we have to get you home before your father comes out looking for you." Linda giggled seriously as she realized what her father would find. Her buried and content in her lover's arms. It wouldn't be so bad, she was old enough to make these decisions on her own, but it was Kate. He loved Kate as a daughter. And he'd never understand or forgive them. Kate gently extracted Linda's hands from around her neck. She rose to her bare feet and shook her long hair out. She extended her hands and helped Linda to her feet by grasping Linda's bound hands in her own. Kate again reached for the ropes, and again Linda pulled away. "Please? Not yet. I like it." "Alright. You realize I have to untie you before you go back in, but if that's what you want." "I want," Linda spoke quietly. The girls bent and gathered up the scattered clothing and the rumpled blanket. Kate slipped back on her jeans, top and shoes. She threw the blanket and Linda's nightgown over her shoulder. Linda cradled the remainder of the ropes in her arms. They made one last circuit of the Tree, ensuring that they hadn't missed anything that would give away their midnight rendezvous.



"Three twenty-two a.m." Kate whispered to Linda as she pressed the Indiglo button on her watch. "Yikes. I guess we lost track of the time. I have to get back." The women gazed back at the moonlit clearing, smiling at the old Tree and their secret. They turned and walked silently back through the corn. Linda had to quiet the horses again as she replaced the blanket and all but her wrist ropes into the tack closet. She rejoined Kate in the back yard. The two girls hugged. Anyone watching from the house would have seen two beautiful girls, one nude, one clothed, bathed in moonlight embracing like lost lovers in the middle of the lawn. They kissed tenderly, their lips still sending electric shivers down their bodies. Linda stepped back, finally allowing Kate to release her hands. She rubbed her wrists as she gazed back at her girlfriend. The bright light from the full moon glinted off the wetness of her tears falling down her cheeks. She gathered the soft rope and her nightgown into her arms. She hadn't bothered to replace her sleepwear yet. "Am I ever going to see you again? Like this?" Kate did her best to smile. "Sweety. I really don't know. I hope so. Christmas maybe?" Kate bent and quickly kissed Linda's lips one last time. Linda, tears still streaming down her face, attempted a smile, but failed. She nodded, knowing that university and distance might separate them. No promises. She struggled with her feelings, but could do nothing but turn on her bare feet and walk slowly back towards the front porch and her home. Kate stood and watched Linda's nude silhouette until she had given one final wave at the door and slipped silently back inside. She walked back to her own home following the path upon which she'd arrived. Her tears fell slowly down her face as she walked. She already missed Linda. Kate slipped silently back into her darkened bedroom. She pulled off her dusty clothing, sighing as she remembered the last time, only a half hour ago, that she had not been wearing them. She sat up for hours on http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (12 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


the edge of her bed, simply gazing at the harvest moon and dreaming. Linda, a mile or so away, was doing exactly the same thing.

======================================================================== Four Seasons: Christmas Presents (FF, rom, light bond) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - April 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ========================================================================

It snowed for Christmas. The soft flakes had coated the trees and the fields in a dazzling display of white as far as Kate could see. She had awoken and gazed out her window for a half hour before she could even bring herself to tear her eyes away from the scene outside. She almost expected to see the proverbial sleigh drawn by reindeer emerge from the over the low rolling hills surrounding her home. She wrapped her dressing gown around her body as she spotted her father trudging through the fresh snow from the barn. She ran down the stairs, practically leaping into her father's cold arms as he entered the house. Laughing, he swung his daughter around before placing her on her bare feet. "What's that all about, pumpkin?" "Merry Christmas Eve, Daddy," she replied. "Merry Christmas Eve. How's my clever psychology student this morning?" He was referring to her university transcript that she'd brought home with a flourish at the beginning of the week. Not a mark below 80. He was inordinately proud of his only child. "She's just fine. Hungry. But fine." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (13 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Let's see about breakfast, then." Kate gathered the fresh eggs from the refrigerator as her father assembled the rest of the cooking utensils. Together they whipped up a huge batch of scrambled eggs and toast. After the smells had driven them crazy, they sat and savoured the breakfast. "You heard from Linda?" her father asked as they noisily ate. "Wonder how she's doing? Haven't seen her at all since September." "She hasn't called." Kate desperately wanted to know about Linda as well. For different reasons. She'd called the Millers early in the week, but Linda wasn't expected until today or even tomorrow. Her parents weren't even sure that Linda was coming home for the holidays. Her exam schedule had been much more hectic than Kate's. "That's too bad, pumpkin. Maybe later today. You going to be alright on your own today? I've got some work in the barn to finish up. We can still have a wonderful dinner, if you'll brave my cookin' again." "I'll be alright. I've got some reading to catch up on. And I love your cooking." Kate rose and cleared the table after they finished eating. She washed and her father dried. Just as they finished cleaning up, the phone rang. Kate rushed to answer it. Linda's voice emerged from the earpiece. "Hey, girlfriend." "Where the hell have you been?" Kate cringed at the look from her father. Even the word 'hell' was frowned upon in this household. Kate felt bad that she'd slipped. Her father looked a little disappointed, but he would never say anything to her. Kate idly noticed that his unspoken disappointment hurt more than if he'd chastised her. She tried to slip back into home mode. "Unlike you, I've been studying my pretty brains out. I just got in this morning," Linda's voice replied over the line. "Can we see each other? My father is ditching me." "Of course, sweety. I thought you'd be lonely today and I managed to score you both an invite for dinner. Sound good? You two shouldn't be alone on Christmas Eve." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (14 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Hold on." Kate turned to her father who was looking quizzically at her. "Linda's invited us for Christmas Eve dinner." "Sounds good to me. I love Pam's cooking. And I'm afraid I didn't have much planned. Just you and me and some Kraft Dinner." He looked sheepishly at his daughter. "Actually your plan sounds nice, too, Daddy, but I'll tell her we'll be there." She raised the telephone back to her lips and relayed the decision. "Good. I'm looking forward to seeing you. Hey. You want to come over early? We can do some riding? I promise I won't force you to pull any more Lady Godivas." Kate could tell that Linda was grinning on her end of the phone. Obviously, Linda had found herself a private extension. "You minx. It's far to cold out there for those games. What time is dinner?" "I don't know. Six-ish? Why don't you come by in an hour or so, we'll take Starr and Lady?" "You got it." Kate gently replaced the receiver into its cradle. "What the heck was that all about?" her father asked. "Dinner's at six, I'm going riding until then." He smiled. "Dress warmly." "Daddy. I know. I'm not a little girl anymore." "Sorry. Sorry. I know you aren't. You're my big grown up university girl. You are beginning to really remind me of your mother. She hated it when I babied her as well. I guess I just liked my little girl. Guess I'm not used to my little woman, yet." "You don't like your little psychology major?" Kate pouted. "I don't just like her. I think I love her." Her gathered his daughter into his arms and squeezed her until she gasped. He released her and she scampered towards the stairs. "See you later, Daddy. And I love you too." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (15 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


She raced up the stairs and into the bathroom. She peeled off her nightgown and threw herself into a hot shower. In a half hour she emerged, dripping and refreshed. She quickly dried off and ran naked to her room where she threw on a warm sweater and jeans. She scampered downstairs and wrapped herself in her down ski jacket and boots. On her way out, she poked her head into the barn where her father was messing with some kind of leather work. She watched him for a few moments, her breath making steam in the air. He looked up and smiled at her. "Aren't you gone, yet?" "I'm on my way out." She pranced over to his chair and kissed his forehead. "You be careful. Don't get lost." "We won't Daddy. Don't be silly," she tossed over her shoulder as she closed the big barn doors. She stopped and gazed around. The world was suddenly pure white, the bright sunshine reflecting off everything. It didn't even seem real. The snow seemed so peaceful and pristine. She almost hated to disturb it by walking on it, but she wouldn't see Linda if she didn't. She began to make her way slowly along the old path to the Miller residence, her feet making crunching noises in the snow. Halfway along, she spotted deer tracks through the snow. She hadn't seen a deer since last fall. The horses would probably scare them, but she was hoping to spot one on the ride. As she approached the Miller home, she saw Linda standing on the back porch, her bare hand extended in front of her. As Kate approached, she noticed the birds. Chickadees swooped out of the trees and landed on Linda's hand, only to pick up something and flit away with their distinctive call. Linda's face was a mask of childish wonder, watching the small creatures trusting her. As Kate walked closer the birds became skittish and stopped their flights. Linda broke out into a smile as she spotted her best friend crossing the back lawn. She let the remainder of her birdseed fall to the snow and ran out to embrace Kate. Kate's mind flashed back to a warm October night with a harvest moon when Linda had practically flown into her arms.



The two friends hugged fiercely. Linda whispered in her ear, "I missed you. God, I wish we could do more than this." She placed a wet kiss on Kate's cheek and broke the embrace. Linda's face was a little flushed, but whether is was the cold, or something deeper, Kate couldn't quite tell. Kate's stomach was in knots just from seeing her. "Dad's got the horses saddled for us. Care to join me?" Linda grabbed at Kate's hand and pulled her towards the barn. Kate wasn't sure that she was going to be able to see the back of that barn without remembering the tack closet, but she was sure going to try. She could feel her face flush as she remembered that night. Just Linda and her and the moon. It was the last time that she had seen Linda. As the girls approached the barn, they heard whistling from within. Linda pulled open the doors to find her father just tightening the last straps on the saddle. The horses looked anxious to go. "Merry Christmas, Reverend Miller." Linda's father looked up and walked over to the two girls. He gave Kate a big kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas. How's my Kate?" "I'm fine, sir. Looking forward to riding Starr again." "And she's looking forward to taking you. Where are you two off to anyway?" "Just around." Linda answered. "Be back for supper. And be careful out there. It's cold." He checked Linda's parka as though she was still twelve. "Daddy. I'm dressed. Relax." "Alright. Alright. Can't a father take care of his daughter anymore?" Linda stepped up on her toes and gave him a kiss. "You can take care of me as long as you want." The girls stepped past Linda's father and towards the horses. Like experts, the two girls mounted and cantered out of the barn. Linda kicked her horse into a gallop and Lady sprang happily into gear. Kate http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (17 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


urged Starr into a gallop and together they flew across the fields, the cold air biting at their unprotected faces. The Reverend watched the two girls as they disappeared over the rise, smiling. He closed the barn door and slowly walked to the main house. The two girls were both daughters to him. He couldn't imagine life here without either one of them. He missed them both terribly when they were away at school, but there comes a time when you have to let them go. It was the natural order of things. His head swam with ideas for his next sermon. The natural order of things. Laughing, Kate and Linda raced over the empty fields towards the forest that bordered the east side of the Miller property. The horses' hooves thundered over the frozen ground, their breathing hard and fast. The horses seemed almost happy to be let free of the barn. The girls stopped their mounts just outside of the treeline. The snow coated everything. The branches of the trees bent under the weight of the snow. It was like a postcard. Kate would have given just about anything for a camera. The girls just sat quietly, marveling at it. Winter wasn't quite as clean and bright in Kingston or Waterloo. They guided the horses slowly down into the trees, where they knew the path was somewhere beneath the snow. They had played here so long they probably could have found the trails blindfolded. They talked easily back and forth. University. Professors. School. Grades. The topic slowly revolved to friends. A knot formed in Kate's stomach as Linda described a new friend of her's, Lorne. Seeing the stricken look on Kate's face, Linda reassured her. "Come on, Kate. He's just a friend. Cute. But just a friend. He's got a girlfriend. Just like I do." The horses moved together and stopped. Linda leaned over and gently kissed Kate's lips. Both girls' lips were curiously cold from the winter air, but they quickly warmed with the contact. The knot in the pit of Kate's stomach dissipated. She still wasn't sure exactly what Linda and her felt. She knew that they'd always be friends, no matter what happened. But that knot was an indication of far more than friends, and Kate knew it. Linda broke the kiss and laughed. She kicked her horse and the girls chased one another through the forest. They continued to talk throughout the day until they finally ended up at the stream. Morning had crept into afternoon. They had to get back soon and warm up. Kate looked over wistfully at the moss covered boulder on the other side of the frozen stream. Linda and Kate had made love there once in a warmer time, just http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (18 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


rolling in the leaves, laughing. It was so hard being apart. They dismounted and walked over to the boulder. It was large enough to support both of them. They brushed off the snow and sat down together gently swinging their legs. The horses ranged without fetters on the opposite side of the stream, ignoring the girls. "Linda?" "What's up?" "This was really nice. It's beautiful out here." "Isn't it? Merry Christmas, sweety." "I was afraid I wasn't going to see you. It was driving me nuts." "I know. I know. I had to get up at four this morning to catch a ride back here. I wanted to see you too. And I know my parents are going to drag me around for the rest of the week. Our only chance was today." Linda leaned forward and allowed her hands to snake around Kate's neck. Linda bent her head and touched Kate's lips with her own. Kate sighed and responded to the kiss. Her breathing quickened as she felt Linda's tongue softly trace her lips. Kate swallowed and broke the kiss. "Linda?" "What's the matter?" "You know I love it when you do that. But. You know we can't exactly take these things off." Kate sighed and tugged at her jacket. "What's the matter? I'm turning you on? We'd just be cold for a while." Linda smiled mischievously. "Are you serious?" "No, honey. I don't think we'd be very happy in the snow. Cool us off awful quick." "I guess." Kate looked disappointed. Linda leaned in and kissed Kate again. The girls kissed until Linda sighed and broke it again. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (19 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Maybe later, if we get a chance," Linda whispered. Kate nodded glumly, knowing that the chances that they would get were slim to none. Her body was aching for Linda's soft touch. She was doomed to frustration. At least they'd stolen this time together. "My butt's frozen." Linda laughed and raised herself off the boulder to her feet. Kate followed, rubbing at her own bottom, brushing loose snow off her jeans. The girls walked back to the horses, both of them breathing a bit heavier sending plumes of steam into the frozen air. They mounted the horses and raced back to the barn. They carefully brushed down the animals, and de-saddled them, returning everything to where it belonged as they been taught nearly since they'd been born. They wriggled out of their jackets as they entered the house. "Hi Mom!" Linda greeted her mother who was cooking. The smells of turkey and sweet potatoes permeated the air. Kate felt her stomach rumble having missed lunch. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Miller," Kate echoed as they entered the kitchen. "You two were gone forever out there. Aren't you cold?" Kate thought back to the stolen kiss at the stream and thought to herself, quite the opposite, actually. She kept her thoughts to herself. Linda's mother handed the girls steaming cups of hot chocolate and ushered them out of the kitchen. They found their way into the living room and curled up in front of the fire, quietly sipping at the steaming mugs. The Miller's Christmas tree was bedecked simply with lights and tinsel. Presents adorned the floor below it, brightly wrapped. They stole a quick kiss just before Linda's father walked in. The girls separated at the sound of his footsteps. Kate scrambled over to grab a board game before he stepped into the room. "Hi girls." He remarked. "Went down to the stream? How was it?" Linda and Kate both exchanged glances and nodded. They both struggled to control the flush that threatened to rise into their faces. "Pretty out there," Kate managed to say. She hoped that the quiver in her voice was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (20 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


only noticeable by her. Kate spread out the Monopoly game on the floor in front of the fireplace. The Reverend settled down in his easy chair and sipped at his eggnog. He was perfectly content to watch the girls play. An hour later, Kate's father entered the room. He bent and kissed both girls, with a chorus of Merry Christmas's. The Reverend and Kate's father fell into some religious discussion as the girls just idly played their game. It was hard to concentrate on the game when all they could think about was the other girl across the board. Linda's brother wandered in a couple of times but returned to his video games, not really wanting to be stuck in some boring conversation or play with his sister. Finally, Mrs. Miller poked her head into the room. "Dinner's on." "Thanks Pam," Kate's father was the first to rise. "It smells divine." The girls quickly cleaned up and ran to the table. Everyone was already seated. Grace having been said, they dug into the delicious turkey dinner. Conversation revolved around school, and the church. Kate, if asked, wouldn't have been able to remember a word of the dinner conversation. She was far more distracted by the soft toes that kept caressing her calves and thighs beneath the table. She was completely absorbed by the sensations and struggling to ignore Linda's evil grin. Her frustration mounted as the dinner progressed. After dinner the family gathered in the family room. The older folk got involved in talk of the church and neighbourhood gossip, sipping at their after dinner Cointreau. Linda and Kate sipped at their Kahlua and tried to follow the conversations, but seemed distracted. Linda's brother broke into the conversation. "Anyone mind if I go play Sega?" The Millers waved, giving the boy his freedom. "Excuse me," Linda spoke softly. She rose to her feet and padded out of the room, leaving Kate alone with the parents. Kate sat on the floor and just listened to the droning voices, sipping at her liqueur. She slipped briefly into a memory of an apple tree and a midnight rendezvous before she caught herself. She smiled as Linda returned to sit with her on the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (21 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


carpet. "Uh. Mom?" Linda asked. Her face was flushed a bit. "Yes dear?" "You mind if Kate and I run upstairs for a while? We have a lot of catching up to do. And I'm not going to get to see her tomorrow." Her mother nodded. Kate and Linda rose off the floor and made their way up the stairs. "God. They'll be talking down there until doomsday. And I doubt that they'd notice it even happened." Kate laughed. "I thought I was going to die of boredom." "We'll see if we can change that." Linda smiled mischievously. The girls entered Linda's cluttered bedroom and Kate sat down on the bed which was about the only place that was reasonably clear. Linda remained standing by the door. "I got a present for you," Linda whispered. "Oh Christ. I didn't get you anything. I thought we agreed not to get each other anything. Since like three years ago." "It's actually something for both of us." "What?" Linda looked around carefully, took a deep breath, grasped the bottom of her sweater and pulled it off in one quick motion. She let it drift to the floor at her feet. Kate gasped. Linda was wearing nothing but red ribbon beneath the sweater. The ribbon wound around her, over her shoulders and gently around her bare breasts, ending in a bow between them. She was breathing a bit harder as she watched Kate. "Oh my God. Is that why you excused yourself?" "Of course."



"What if your parents come up here?" "They usually knock." Linda hooked her fingers into her jeans and gently pushed them down her long legs. No underwear. She pulled off her socks with her toes. She grinned at Kate. "Merry Christmas," she whispered spreading her arms wide. "You. You can't do that. We can't. Not here." "Of course we can. We just have to be quiet and quick." The nude girl knelt down to her desk drawer. "And here's your final present." She pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from the bottom drawer. "Put them on me. Please?" "We. Can't." Kate's protests were losing steam. Linda walked over to Kate and dropped the handcuffs into her lap. She bent down and kissed her full on the lips. Kate moaned and responded. "I'll stop, if you really want me to," Linda whispered in her ear. Kate reached up and closed her eyes. "I don't. God. I don't." Linda pushed Kate down onto the bed and they embraced, still kissing passionately. "God, I've missed you. And your kisses," Kate whispered. "Put them on me. Please?" "But your parents. Your brother." "Well, yeah. My brother hardly ever knocks. The weasel." "I. I'm not sure I can do this." "Can you be quiet?" "I guess."



Linda picked up the cuffs and dangled them in front of Kate. "They're yours. I'm yours." "Your parents." "Look at it this way. If they walk in on us, it ain't going to matter much whether I'm handcuffed or not. Either way, my father is going to have a coronary." Linda grinned mischievously. Kate slowly took the steel from Linda's fingers. Linda held her hands loosely behind herself and waited as Kate took a deep breath. The steel closed around her wrists, and Linda shuddered. Helpless. She pulled at the steel, loving the sensation of her restraint. Kate flushed, but her desires were beginning to build. Just seeing Linda in that silly bow and handcuffs. She looked around and quickly peeled off her clothing. Linda watched with furtive glances at the closed door. Kate pulled the bound girl down onto her bed and kissed her again. The kisses ignited both girls and soon Kate's fingers were playing up and down Linda's soft skin. Touching her. Her breasts. Her legs. Her toes. Linda lay back on the bed, sighing as she spread herself slightly. Kate let her fingers stroke her friend as she kissed her. Linda squirmed, wanting more. So much more. Slowly, Kate entered Linda with her fingers, letting her thumb find the rhythm on Linda's swollen clitoris. She kissed Linda to muffle the moans and soft cries. It wasn't long before Linda climaxed hard. Her body arched and she cried out into Kate's mouth. Finally the waves subsided and both girls lay quietly, trying to determine if the house had heard. They held each other, content with the soft feel of one another. "Alright," Kate said quickly. "That was your Christmas present from me. Can we get dressed now?" "Don't be dumb. They are going to be down there all night talking about heaven and hell, or whatever it is they are talking about. Come on. I don't want to leave you hanging. It's not fair. Especially at Christmas." Linda thrust her lower lip out in a pretend pout. Linda worked herself off the bed and knelt on the floor. Kate took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed. She sighed, knowing that she wanted this as much as Linda did. She needed it. To hell with the danger. It was Christmas. She let her legs rest on Linda's bare shoulders and lay back, gasping as Linda's soft tongue found her. Kate's http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (24 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


fingers brushed at her own nipples as she concentrated on Linda's mouth. Linda teased her, running her tongue up and down the sensitive slit, loving the soft cries falling from Kate's lips. Knowing that they probably had risked far too much as it was, Linda began to circle Kate's clit with her soft tongue, knowing the rhythm, gently kissing and sucking. Kate exploded with a small scream. Linda's mouth wasn't there to muffle the sounds. Kate writhed as her muscles contracted in unison, struggling to keep quiet, almost pushing the handcuffed woman from her task. Finally Kate lay back, gasping, whispering Linda's name softly. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. She lifted her head and gazed into Linda's deep brown eyes. Linda smiled and gazed back from between Kate's legs, her long hair surrounding her face like a halo, her perfect breasts rising and falling with her ragged breathing. Kate lay her head back down, closing her eyes and relaxing into the afterglow. "Linda?" a feminine voice called. It sounded like it had come from the foot of the stairs. Kate's eyes snapped open and she scrambled for her clothes. "No time," Linda hissed. "Just answer her." Kate scrambled off Linda's bed that Linda's brother was still and poked her head out. Anyone eyeful of her, if they were in

and padded over to the door. She prayed downstairs. She opened the door slightly in the hallway was still going to get an the right position.

"Hi, Mrs. Miller," Kate called down, trying to keep her voice steady. "Are you two alright? I thought I heard a cry." "That was me, I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe." Kate fervently prayed that her unstifled cries of ecstasy resembled her cries of pain. "Alright. You sure you're okay? You want me to look at it for you? You didn't break it?" "I'm fine, really." Kate called down. Mrs. Miller was going to get more of a look at her than her pretty toes if she came up here now. And for extra measure, she'd get a nice view of her bare daughter cuffed, ribboned and kneeling on the floor which she could probably do without. Please let her go back. Please let her go back, Kate prayed to herself. "You two anti-social girls coming down anytime soon? You've been up there an hour." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (25 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


An hour? Kate couldn't believe that they'd been making love for an hour. Her father was down there. "We'll be right down. Give us a second." Kate closed the door and tried to control her breathing. Linda was softly laughing, still on her knees. "That was close," she got out between giggles. "It's not funny." "You had fun, didn't you?" Kate tried to give Linda a stern look and failed miserably. She dropped to her knees beside her best friend and hugged her, feeling their bare breasts touch again. She felt tingles running all up and down her skin. "Yes, lover, I had fun. I've wanted that for a while. But I want to be able to do it again, too. They catch us, and it's game over." "Me too. Now. You think it would be a good idea to get me out of these things?" Linda rattled the chain of the handcuffs on her wrists. "Where's the key?" "Key?" Linda looked at her with a very serious face. "Yeah. Key." "I. I don't remember." "You what?" Linda broke out into a grin and began to giggle again. "In the top drawer of the desk." Kate let her breath out. "Don't do that to me. You scared the crap outta me." Linda just continued to giggle as Kate retrieved the small steel key. "I have half a mind to leave you like that. Ribbons and all. Let your father find you." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (26 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"You wouldn't." "I would. That was mean." "I'm sorry." Linda just continued her giggling as Kate unlocked her wrists. She rubbed at them as she got to her feet. "Come on. Before they get more suspicious than they already are." Kate slipped back into her clothes and then sat and watched as Linda pulled her sweater over her ribbons. "You are keeping them on?" "What? The ribbons? Yeah. They'll remind me of you when I strip to go to bed tonight." Linda handed her the handcuffs. "And these will remind you of me. Anytime you want, you can use them on me." "How the heck am I going to get these home?" "Your purse?" "I didn't bring one." Linda glanced around the room. She slipped into the closet and brought out a brightly wrapped present. "I hid this one. My brother shakes 'em." She began to unwrap the present carefully. She pulled out the game cartridge that she'd gotten her brother and slipped the handcuffs into the box. She then carefully re-wrapped the present. She handed the small box to Kate. "There. Camouflaged. Just don't open it in front of your father tomorrow." She grinned as she slipped the game cartridge into a drawer to re-wrap later. "Thanks. I really needed that. Christ, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I couldn't control the scream. I'm sorry." "I really needed it too. And I would have screamed too if you hadn't been kissing me," Linda whispered. "It's alright. When are you going to be home next?" "Probably Easter."



"Christ. I can't wait that long." "Me neither, but I guess we'll just have to." Kate leaned in and pressed her lips against Linda's, tasting herself on Linda's lips. The girls broke the kiss with an effort. "You better wash up." "No way. I'm going to taste you until I fall asleep tonight. Especially if it ain't going to be until Easter." Kate ran a brush through her hair and then brushed out Linda's for her. They checked themselves in the mirror and made sure their breathing was calm. Just then Linda's younger brother burst into the room. Without knocking. Both girls looked at one another and sighed a huge breath of relief, smiling. "Mom says to get your butts downstairs." "She didn't say that." "Well, not exactly. But she wants you down there, pronto. I think it's time for Kate to leave. It smells funny in here." Linda's brother wrinkled his nose. Realizing that the scents of both women were probably still strong in the closed room, Linda hurried her brother out. "We're coming. We're coming. Go on. Tell Mom." Linda's brother thundered down the stairs to report. Kate and Linda looked at each other at the top of the stairs. "That's it, huh?" "Yeah. They're dragging me all over hell's creation over the next few days. I doubt if we'll get a chance see each other. I'd really like to, but try explaining why to my parents." Tears welled in Kate's eyes. "Linda? Easter. Okay? You promise?" "I can't promise. But I'll sure try. Okay?" Tears had already broken free of Linda's eyes. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (28 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Remember me with the cuffs. Okay?" Kate kissed Linda's lips for the last time and they held hands as long as they could as they descended back to the family. Both girls somehow managed to control the tears before they walked into the family room. Kate's father already had his jacket on. "What the heck were you two doing up there?" "Just talking. Catching up," Kate replied softly. She was afraid to say more, afraid that she'd say more than she could, afraid she'd start crying again. "You women. Always gabbing. Time to go, tiger. These fine folk want to go to bed. It's after midnight and tomorrow's Christmas." Kate walked back out to the kitchen and slipped her parka over her shoulders. The girls exchanged glances, trying not to cry. Linda followed the two of them out onto the porch, shivering, after they'd all said their good-byes. She hadn't even slipped on her boots. Linda hugged Kate fiercely as Kate's father moved on ahead a bit. She whispered in Kate's ear. "Remember the ribbon. I'll be thinking of you. And I think I love you. Merry Christmas." She quickly brushed her lips against Kate's. She gave Kate a push and retreated into the house before Kate could respond. As she moved unwillingly away from the Miller home, Kate turned to see Linda waving from her window, holding a bright red ribbon. She swallowed heavily, missing Linda's touch already. Holding hands, Kate and her father trudged slowly through the snow towards their house a mile away. It was far too dark for Kate's tears to be noticeable.

======================================================================== Four Seasons: Easter Tears (FF, rom) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - April 1998 http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (29 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Tomorrow was Easter. Kate always looked forward to the holiday, chocolate and candy being her passion. And every year her father indulged her, sending her on a candy hunt every Easter Sunday for as long back as she could remember. Not even University was going to interfere with it this year. Kate soaked in the late morning sun as she strolled towards the Miller's home through the fields. She lifted her face, happy to be alive. She felt a bubble of laughter rise, and she skipped along the path. Linda had called this morning, quietly hinting at some time alone. The sun was shining, warming the normally cooler April air. She could see the storm clouds in the distance, but they weren't overhead yet. It was spring. It was sunny. She was in love. She felt at peace with the world. She practically ran the last quarter mile to the Miller's house, her breathing ragged as she knocked at the back screen door. Linda's mother opened the back door, surprising Kate. Kate had expected Linda. She willed away the twinge of disappointment that ran through her. "Happy Easter, Mrs. Miller." Mrs. Miller peered through the door, a smile breaking out on her motherly face. "Happy Easter, Kate. What a pleasant surprise. Linda didn't tell me you were coming over." "Is she around?" Kate asked before her friend's mother could engage her in idle chatter about school, or her father. She was anxious to see Linda. "She's in the barn, I think. At least that what she told me on her way out. She seemed in a rush, though. She might already be out riding." "I'll see. Thanks." "Come back later for cookies. I just baked some fresh."



"Sounds absolutely wonderful." Kate turned and walked slowly towards the Miller's barn. She could feel her heart beginning to beat quicker as she approached. The barn doors were closed. She couldn't believe that Linda had left without her. She was in there; she had to be. Kate unlatched the huge doors and poked her head into the cavernous structure. The horses whinnied and shifted at her presence. "Anybody home?" A small feminine voice floated down from the loft. "Up here. I wasn't expecting you so soon." Kate stepped into the barn. "I ran," Kate replied to the air above her. "What are you waiting for? Come on up." Kate scampered to the wooden ladder that led to the barn's hayloft. She climbed towards the trapdoor. She refused to look down, being somewhat afraid of heights. She pulled herself up carefully until she was standing on the wooden boards, gazing around the loft. Her eyes spotted Linda reclining back in the pillowing hay. She was wearing cutoff shorts, and a t-shirt. She'd kicked off her shoes which were lying beside her. Kate noticed a stray piece of hay lying between the other girl's toes. Her face was angelic, her long brown hair contrasting with the golden colour of the dried hay. Her breasts were outlined clearly by the t-shirt stretched provocatively across them. She was reclining in the patch of sun streaming in through the open hayloft doors. Linda's eyes were closed, seemingly at peace. "I've missed you." Kate murmured. Linda opened her eyes. She smiled, though not quite in her usual exuberant way. "I've missed you, too, sweety. Want to share some sun?" Kate walked over to her friend and dropped down into the hay. She relaxed feeling the radiant warmth of hay heated by the sunbeam. Small particles of dust rose into the sunbeam as she settled herself back into the hay. "Where is everyone?" Kate asked. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (31 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Well, Dad and Bobby took off to one of those dumb shows. Tractor pull, or demolition derby, dirt biking or something dumb like that. You know, the 'BE THERE!!!!' people." Linda had dropped her voice low to simulate the awful commercials. She grinned. "Who the hell falls for those things anyway? Maybe I'd just rather be here, not there. Mom's in the house." "So we're alone?" "Except for Mom, and she's really not likely to end up in the barn. She's baking again." "Fresh cookies. I know. Hmmmm." Kate stretched herself out and settled herself into the hay. The two girls relaxed, just enjoying the sun and the warmth of the early spring. Kate felt her fingers being taken by Linda. She felt an incredible wave of fatigue rush over her and she closed her eyes. There was the sensation of falling, a feeling of peace and trust, and then darkness. She awakened a while later to the touch of a soft pair of lips. She opened her eyes, her senses filled. The warm sun had disappeared, though the air was still warm in the loft. She smelled the humidity on the air. A quick shift of her eyes confirmed the clouds lying low over the farm. The smell of impending rain was erotically mixed with Linda's soft scent. The slight fragrance of clover washed over Kate as Linda's hair brushed her face. She fell into Linda's soft lips as Linda leaned over her and kissed her again gently. As the first quiet drops of rain fell against the roof of the barn, Linda whispered in her ear. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead." "How long? What time is it?" "Relax. Lots of time yet. You've only been asleep a couple of hours." "You let me sleep?" "Yeah. I was pondering." Linda said it with a terrible English accent. She reverted back to her normal voice. "I was just watching the storm roll in, and you, of course." "Me?" "Yeah. You're cute when you sleep. Mumbling." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (32 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"I don't mumble." Linda nodded, her eyes sparkling. "What did I say?" "Have no idea. Couldn't understand you." "Sorry." "Remember what you were dreaming?" "'fraid not." Linda bent down and kissed Kate again, tentatively. Kate responded as she always did to the touch of Linda's lips. Tingles raced through her body followed by butterflies. She gasped and returned the kiss, allowing her tongue to trace along Linda's lips and teeth. Arms wrapped around one another and they embraced, still kissing, as close as the clothing allowed. Kate felt the familiar tingles as her breasts touched Linda's, even through two t-shirts. Their legs entangled. Kate could feel Linda's toes against her bare legs. Stroking. Touching. Kissing. Kate felt Linda break the kiss and opened her eyes, wanting to feel the softness again. Linda sat up in the hay, cross-legged and gazed at Kate. Linda smiled seductively. "You want me to take these off?" Kate smiled back and teased her. "What off? Lady, I don't know what you are talking about." "I'm not wearing anything underneath." Linda whispered. "Still don't know what I'm talking about?" Kate looked at her friend hungrily. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours." She smiled. Linda played with the bottom of her t-shirt, playfully lifting it to just below her breasts and then letting it fall. "I can't get it off. Care to help me?" Linda raised her hands above her. She was perfectly silhouetted by the clouds outside the hayloft opening. Kate crawled over to Linda, her fingers finding the top and flipping it http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (33 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


off in one fluid motion. Linda's perfect breasts sprang into view, upthrust and beautiful. Kate bent and carefully let her tongue wet the exposed skin, swirling softly around Linda's hardened nipples. Linda moaned softly. Kate felt herself being pushed back into the hay. She could smell her arousal mixed with Linda's and the rain and the hay. She trembled as she let her fingers run over Linda's bare back, lightly tracing the edges of her breasts as the two girls resumed kissing, getting as close as they could. Laughing, they rolled through the hay, Kate on top, Linda on top. Linda's fingers fumbled at Kate's t-shirt, finally, with some help, pulling it from Kate's body. Immediately, Kate could feel the hay pressing into her bare skin, itching. The itch completely disappeared as Linda's soft fingertips brushed her nipples through her bra. Gasping, Kate reached behind herself, releasing the clasps, wanting to feel the air against her breasts, wanting to feel Linda pressing up against them. Linda pressed herself against Kate, not allowing the bra to come off. The two girls, still letting their lips touch, felt each other through just the thin bra. Kate pulled the fabric from between them, gasping as she, at last, felt the skin on skin contact she wanted. Linda's soft breasts and hard nipples pressed gently into her own. Kate could feel Linda's fingers exploring her, running down her body as she laid back into the cushioning hay. She felt the soft probing as Linda released the button on her shorts and slipped under the waistband of her panties. Linda's fingers brushed at her sparse pubic hair beneath Kate's shorts. Kate almost screamed in frustration. "Take them off me. Please?" Kate lifted her pelvis, allowing Linda to pull off the restrictive clothing. Kate pushed off her runners, wanting, no needing, to be completely unclothed, to share herself completely with Linda. She could feel the prickly sensations of the hay between her toes. She gasped as she felt Linda's fingers again brushing her outer lips, teasing her, running through her light hair. "I could tease you all day, you know." Linda whispered to the panting girl. "Oh God. Please no. Inside. Please." Linda's fingers continued the tease. She lay back down beside Kate and kissed her full on the lips, still refusing to enter Kate with her fingers. "Please. Please. Please?" Kate begged. "God I need you." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (34 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Don't you want to take the last thing off me?" "Mmmmmmm." Kate moaned gently as Linda let her middle finger slide between the lips, softly touching the clitoris and retreating. Linda pulled away the sensations completely and stood, just gazing at her naked girlfriend in the hay. "Where are you going?" "Just taking off the last item for you, since you don't seem to be interested." "Oh God. I'm interested. Come back." Kate watched as Linda slipped her cutoffs to her Linda flipped the shorts out the hayloft opening Kate gasped. Smiling evilly, Linda picked up her nonchalantly dropped it out the opening as well. the small pile of Kate's clothes.

bare feet. Grinning, with her bare foot. t-shirt and She purposely looked at

Kate closed her eyes. "Go ahead. I can't ever say no to you. Can I? You'll toss them whether I refuse or not." Linda, laughing, picked up Kate's clothes and dropped them as well. Bra, shirt, shorts, all her clothing lying on the concrete pad a story below in the pouring rain. The girls looked at each other, breathing hard. "What the hell are we going to do now?" "Hope that Daddy and Bobby don't show up early?" "What if your mother comes in?" "She never climbs up here." "What if she sees the clothing?" "You think you have problems? I was wearing a white t-shirt. With nothing else. Either way, I'm screwed." "Oh shit." Kate started to laugh. "You are so damn dumb." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (35 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


Linda knelt back down. "I might be dumb, but I know how to make you feel good. Come here." Kate crawled naked over to where Linda was kneeling. She lay back on the hay again, feeling the rain, her arousal, and Linda's soft skin as Linda climbed over her. She closed her eyes concentrating on the sensations. She felt Linda's tongue touching her, licking, softly biting her. Linda's fingers gently entered her, causing another gasp. Linda's tongue finally touched her swollen clit. Teasing. She opened her eyes, seeing Linda's center above her face. Kate gently pulled her friend to her lips, letting her tongue explore the inner reaches of Linda. Kate's finger slowly inserted, softly pumping to the rhythm of her tongue. Both girls crying out and gasping as the sex overwhelmed their senses. Neither girl remembered their climax, though their bodies strained as one. Their soft screams mixed together with the hiss of the rain against the roof. Linda collapsed, her body covered in perspiration, feeling her hot skin against Kate's, feeling Kate's wild breathing as she struggled with the aftermath of her orgasm. Linda carefully turned herself around and settled herself against Kate's heaving breasts. Her hair, slightly damp from her exertions and the humidity, fanned itself out across Kate's bare skin. She idly traced Kate's still erect nipple with her index finger, eliciting yet more moans. Kate ran her fingers through Linda's hair, stroking her. Both girls lay there quietly listening to the other breathe, listening to the soft rain, and simply enjoying being with one another. Eventually, Linda raised her head and looked up into Kate's face. "Hey, girlfriend." "What's up?" Kate asked softly. "You want to go again?" "Not yet, sweety. I'm still recovering." "I hear you. That was absolutely wonderful." "It was." They were quiet again, Linda easily resting against Kate. "We should get our clothes," Kate whispered. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (36 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Later. I just want to stay here. Nobody is going to bother us. Mom doesn't even know we're here." "I suppose." "Katie?" "Mmm-hmmm." "I have. I have to tell you something." "What's that?" Linda hesitated. She really didn't want to do this. Especially now, not in the afterglow. She had to be honest, though. She couldn't live with herself otherwise. Couldn't do that to Kate. She didn't want this to end. But she knew if she blew it, Katie would do exactly that. Walk out of here, not much she could do about it. Problem was, she loved both of them and she had to tell her. "I. I don't really know how to start." "Shhhh. Don't worry about it. I know." "You do? How?" Linda could feel the blood rise into her face. "You told me at Christmas. Don't worry. I think I'm in love with you, too." Linda swallowed heavily. She couldn't do it now. Couldn't say what she had to. Not now. "Please God, don't make me do this," flew through her pretty head. But she had to and she knew it. Why did this have to be so hard? "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out. "I'm so sorry." Kate tried to sit up, but Linda's head on her breast prevented it. She lay back confused. Linda's body was beginning to shake, Kate had seen Linda cry enough to know that silent tears were beginning to form in her friend's eyes even though they were turned away from her. "Linda? What's the matter?" "Katie. I. You have to believe me. I'm sorry. I. I didn't mean ..." her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (37 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


voice trailed off. "Please? You are going to make me cry. What's the matter? Are you going away? Did your father find out about us?" "Oh God. I can't do this. Katie? Honey?" Linda raised her tear streaked face again, looking at Kate. She closed her eyes. "Remember I told you about Lorne at Christmas?" "Oh God." Kate could feel a huge knot forming in the pit of her gut. She wanted to run, to hide, not hear this, make it go away. She knew. She swallowed heavily, tears already beginning to form in her eyes. "Please no." "Katie, I'm so sorry." Kate gently pushed Linda away from her. Kate sat up, hugging her knees. Unable to stop the tears. Linda closed her eyes. "I swear I wasn't seeing him at Christmas. I wasn't. He. He broke up with his girlfriend in February. And. I don't know what happened. We were good friends. And. God. We became more than friends. It just happened. I'm so sorry Kate. I really am. I. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I was so lonely. Please understand. Please. I don't want to lose you. I don't." Kate hung her head and sobbed, the tears running unashamedly down her face. She felt Linda's soft fingers touch her shoulder. She wanted so much to fall into Linda's arms and sob herself out, just let Linda comfort her as she always did. But Linda had never hurt her. Until now. Instead, she pulled herself away from Linda, scrabbling across the hay. "Katie? Say something? Please?" Linda knelt, tears falling down her face as well. "I. I'd like to. To. Stay friends. I. I don't want to lose you. Please don't be angry with me. I don't want to lose you." "I. I can't be here right now. I'm sorry, Linda. I really am," Kate choked out between her sobs. Kate, with an effort, pulled herself to her bare feet. She slowly lowered herself through the trap door, no longer caring if anyone was in the barn below, no longer afraid of heights. She didn't care if she was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (38 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


seen, buck naked, climbing down the ladder. Her nudity just didn't seem important anymore. She looked one more time at Linda, naked, kneeling in the hay before dropping out of sight. "I'm sorry." Linda whispered through her tears as Kate's tear streaked face disappeared below. Kate climbed down the ladder, sobbing, blinded by her tears. She ran nude through the barn, ignoring the confused horses, and pushed open the barn doors, hinges screaming. She forced her bare legs to carry her into the gentle rain and around the edge of the barn. She could feel the cool water soaking her nude body, running unheeded through her hair and over her face and breasts. Crying, she knelt below the loft and looked up, almost hoping to see Linda again. Linda wasn't there. She blindly gathered up her clothing into her arms. She realized that her shoes were still in the loft. She didn't care. She wasn't going to go back there. She couldn't. Not bothering to dress in the soaked clothes, she ran. Her tears mixed with the rain as she sprinted towards the muddy path leading back towards her home. She fervently hoped that Mrs. Miller wasn't looking out the back window as she ran blindly on. She thought she heard Linda's soft voice calling her name over the sound of her ragged breathing, her tears and the gentle rain. Halfway back, her lungs burning and unable to run any further, she slipped to her knees in the mud, her hands rising to her face. She sobbed unreservedly, rain cascading over her bare body. She cried for what seemed like hours there. Missing Linda. Knowing that she would never be with her again. Eventually, she rose to her bare feet, drew on her top and shorts, still carrying her underwear, and walked slowly onwards. All she wanted was a hot bath, and her bed. She didn't care that it was the middle of the afternoon. She didn't know what she'd say to her father but she'd think of something. He'd know something was wrong but he loved her. He'd give her her space. That evening after a long hot bath, as Kate had known she would, she crawled between the sheets, hugging herself. She cried herself to sleep, not knowing that only a mile away, another beautiful girl was doing the same, weeping in the dark. Easter tears.



======================================================================== Four Seasons: June Revelations (FF) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - April 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Kate's father cursed lightly as the wrench slipped. Kate looked up from her reading and settled her deep brown eyes on him. "Can I help, Daddy?" "Not really work that you can do, honey. Thanks for the offer though." Kate bent her head back to her book. The humidity was high today making the pages stick together. She didn't mind, she was barely paying attention to the words anyway. The sun beat down on the dusty yard. Her father was tinkering with the tractor, tuning it up or something. She had wandered out to keep him company, and distract herself. She was wearing a light yellow sundress and was perched on an old stump left from when the land was cleared. Her long brunette hair curled around her shoulders in the slight wind. She'd reread the same sentence twelve times, her thoughts elsewhere. A tear escaped and trickled down her pale cheek. She looked up from her book to find her father standing in front of her. She hadn't noticed as he'd finished up with the mechanical work. He crouched in front of her and lay his hard hands on her knees. They were clean despite the work he was doing. Probably degreased himself before coming over to her. He was thoughtful that way. "Katie, sweetheart?" "Mmmmm?" she cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. She absently wiped at the tear running down her cheek, hoping that he wouldn't notice. But she knew that he'd notice and she knew what was coming. She hoped that she could avoid the discussion once again. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (40 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Katie, you know I love you and I'll butt out. I know it's none of my business." "You're right, Daddy, it isn't." "You were such good friends." "I know. We. Just grew apart." "Something happened. You won't even take her calls anymore. She's trying you know. Whatever she did." "You couldn't understand what she did." "Whatever it is, she's trying at least. She calls here every day. And it breaks my heart to have to keep telling her that you don't want to talk to her. You used to listen at least, even if you didn't say anything into that phone. Now, you won't even listen to her voice." "I'm sorry, Daddy." "Will you talk to her next time she calls?" Kate bit her lip and slowly shook her head. "Darling, you have your mother in you. She was stubborn as an old goat, too. Think about it. You can't solve nothing without talking about it. You're smart, you know that. Linda's worth more than that. You know that, too." "I know, Daddy." He patted her knee and stood. "I just don't like seeing you this way, pumpkin. I really wish I could help." "You are. You're there." Kate smiled as best she could for her father. He tried to smile back reassuringly. He really didn't want to impose, but she was so darned unhappy these days. He knew it was Linda, but he didn't quite understand why. They'd been inseparable. He'd even spoken to the Reverend. Linda's father didn't know either. Just that they weren't getting along and Linda desperately wanted to talk to Kate. He couldn't very well tie her up and force her to listen, though. And he loved her far too much to risk directing her wrath at him by butting in http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (41 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


where he had no right to be. He knew it wasn't right to get involved anyway; this was between Kate and Linda. That's why he felt so helpless as he turned back to the old tractor. It just broke his heart to see his only daughter like this. Kate quietly returned to her book. An hour or so had passed when she looked up again. Her father had been cursing softly again. Just mild cursing, nothing major. Cursing wasn't encouraged in the home. She rose to her feet and approached her father. "You want anything to drink?" "Maybe an iced tea, if you are offering. It's durn hot out here." She lifted the dress away from her skin at the hips by pinching the fabric. "Stuck to me. I guess it is hot." "You don't have to be out here with me, if you don't want." "I'll keep you company. Who else will, you cantankerous old man?" He aimed a swat at her with his oily hands but she danced away with a laugh. She ran towards the house and stood by the kitchen window, mixing up some iced tea. She added a few ice cubes to the mixture and poured two tall glasses. She sipped at her glass as she returned to the back of the house. She stopped in her tracks after she'd descended from the porch, a look of sadness and longing pervading her features. She stood motionless trying to decide what to do. Walk quietly back into the house before they noticed her, or deliver the drink to her father then return to the house. Her heart was desperately trying to convince her mind to at least say hello. She hadn't seen her in months. Not a word. Her father glanced up from his conversation with the girl. "Honey? Please?" he called out to Kate frozen to the spot. Kate just quickly shook her head, eyes downcast. "Please, Kate. It's only Linda, honey. She doesn't bite. At least come and say hello. We're civil around here." She doesn't bite? Actually she does, flitted through Kate's mind. An http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (42 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


unwanted tingle raced through her body at the sight of her neighbour and the memories of her soft bites. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gibson. I. I think I better go." Linda looked across the dusty yard at Kate. "I'm sorry Kate. I truly am." Linda began to walk backwards, back the way she had come. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes as she slowly moved away. Kate took a deep breath and forced her feet to make the walk towards her father. She still hadn't uttered a word. Linda had turned and was walking slowly towards the path. Kate watched her, sure she was sobbing. Kate felt a tear fall down her own face watching her leave. "Come on, honey. I know you want to talk to her. I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn't be crying if you didn't. All it would take is one word before she's gone. Come on. Call her name. Get her back here. I miss her, too." Kate swallowed, feeling the tears intensify. "I. I can't, Daddy. You don't understand." "I don't need to understand." She felt his hand stroking her hair like she was a little girl again. He had cleaned his hands recently with orange degreaser. She could faintly smell it on the humid air. "All I know is that you love her and she loves you. You are going to lose the best friend of your life if you don't forgive her for whatever she's done to you." Kate swallowed hard, again, and moved away from her father. She sat down on the old stump and held her face in her hands, sobbing again. Her heart ached. "Linda?" Kate's quivering voice called across the distance from her to the other girl. "Don't go," she whispered to herself. Linda was walking slowly and was almost out of earshot. Linda hesitated, almost as if she hadn't quite heard and was frightened that the voice was a figment of a hopeful imagination. "Linda?" Kate called a bit louder and a bit stronger. Linda turned, her face still completely tear streaked. She took a deep breath and tried to control her emotions and her unhappiness. She began http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (43 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


a slow walk back towards her former friend and lover, giving them both time to avoid the encounter if they wanted. Kate looked over helplessly to her father, tears still streaming down her fair features. He mouthed to her, "I'm proud of you, baby." He nodded, and drink still in hand, walked back towards the house, glad to give the girls their privacy. Linda stopped a meter from Kate's seat. The two girls looked at each other, both unsure of the other, not quite knowing what to do. Linda whispered first, "Kate? I don't expect you to forgive me. You have every right in the world to be angry at me. But I am sorry. I am so sorry I hurt you. You can't imagine." Kate began to cry harder, her whole body shaking as she sat on the stump, unable to speak. Linda was crying as well, but she desperately tried to control herself, wanting so much to talk to Kate. Make her understand. It had been so long since she'd even heard Kate's voice. The girls had never fought as long as they had known one another. Linda let Kate cry for a few minutes while struggling with her own emotions. "I. The only thing I want to do right now is gather you in my arms and comfort you. And I can't." Linda spoke quietly. "Please, don't." Kate choked out. "I'm fine." "You aren't fine. And I can't stand that I caused it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Linda stepped forward and fell to her knees, her jeans throwing dust up from the ground as she dropped. She went to place her hands on Kate's knees, the same way Kate's father had earlier, but then hesitated. She didn't have the right to touch Kate any more. She'd given it up Easter weekend. She rocked back on her heels instead and gazed up at Kate, her pain evident on her pretty features. "Kate? I know you're angry with me. I. Understand. But I don't want to lose you. I never did. I loved you. I still do. I swear it. I always wanted to be friends. I never wanted this to happen. Do you think I'd be calling here every day if I did?" http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (44 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


Kate struggled to control her sobbing, forcing the tears to stop with an act of will. "I. I'm not sure I can go back to being just friends. I. I fell in love with you. It's my fault. But. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I just want to be alone if I can't have you." Linda swallowed. "I know. I fell in love with you, as well." "Then why?" "I would have explained three months ago if you'd let me." "I. I wasn't ready to listen. I was hurt. I still am." "I know. I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear that I was just being honest. And I screwed up. I didn't do it properly. Didn't say anything right. At the worst possible time. I. I just thought you should know. I'd never done anything like that before. I'm sorry. I didn't want this. God, I didn't want this." "Why him?" "Oh God. I don't know. I was lonely. It was a mistake. I thought I liked him. He made me forget about everything for a while. You. Here. My loneliness." Kate cocked her head and stared through her tears at Linda kneeling before her. She couldn't believe how much it hurt to hear about Lorne. Even after all this time. This shouldn't hurt this much. There was never any real commitment except in her heart. "I discovered something about myself that I've been trying to tell you for months now. Ever since I got back. But you won't talk to me." "Linda? I'm not sure I can do this." "We're just talking, Kate. I swear, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I'm not expecting anything at all. If you want me to go, I will. I'll wait until you are ready. But I'm not going to give up on you. I caused this, I'm going to fix it. Somehow. And I'll just wait until you let me. I. I'm persistent. Someday you'll talk to me again. I have to be with you. I can't lose you."



"Alright. I'll listen. I don't promise anything though." Linda swallowed. "I'll take that. And I don't expect you to forgive me." She paused, gathering her thoughts and wiping at the tears on her face. "I cried for hours in that loft, you know? I didn't know what to do. A part of me died when you left. I contemplated jumping, you know that? I was so miserable. If I was sure I would die instead of just breaking my stupid arm, I would have. When it got dark, I managed to get myself out of the hay we were in together and get my clothes. I missed you so much. It was still raining and I vaguely remember walking into the house with my stupid wet white t-shirt. I didn't care anymore. I'm pretty sure that my father and my brother were at the table when I walked in. He didn't say anything though I probably gave them a hell of a show. I just didn't care anymore. You were gone. I didn't eat supper. I remember lying on my bed crying my eyes out. I don't even remember falling asleep. It wasn't until I got back to school that I realized that I wasn't thinking of Lorne when I was crying up there. It was you." "I cried all night, too. I've been crying ever since. Every night." Kate whispered. "I was so afraid that I'd never see you again. I was so screwed up. I. I broke up with Lorne on the Tuesday. He still doesn't know why. All he knew was that I was upset. And he was okay with it, though we never really talked again like we used to." "I'm sorry." Kate whispered again. "All I want is you. We. I can't stand that you won't return my calls. That you won't speak to me. I know I deserve it. I know I'm a shit. I know that you have every right to hate me. But it's tearing me apart. I'll do whatever it takes. I swear it. I'll be lonely until the end of time. I don't care. Eventually you'll at least be friends with me again. Even if I can't have you like before. I'm not giving up." Kate hung her head, not being able to fight the tears any longer. Her body shook and she climbed slowly to her feet. Without thinking, she turned and ran back towards the house crashing blindly through the back door and up the stairs. She stood at her window, gazing at the girl still kneeling in the dust. She watched as her father walked slowly out towards her and helped the sobbing girl to her feet. He gently kissed her forehead and steadied her until she seemed to be able to stand on her own. He held her as he would his own daughter, letting her cry on his shoulder. Tears were still streaming down Kate's face as she stood watching, her heart breaking. Linda slowly turned away from the house http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (46 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


and walked away. She turned once and gazed up at Kate's window, tears forming again but she turned and began to walk again, slowly away down the path. Kate watched her as long as she could, until she was out of sight. Kate collapsed onto her bed and buried her head in the pillows. She sobbed uncontrollably until her father knocked gently some time later. It might even have been an hour later; time had ceased to exist for Kate. She savagely wiped at the tears with the back of her hand and ran her fingers through her hair. His gentle voice floated through the door. "Sweetheart? Pumpkin? Please let me in." "I. Just want to be alone right now." "Please?" She nodded, and then realized that he couldn't see her. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Come in." She watched as the door opened in slow motion and he slid quietly into the room. He sat down on her bed, cupping her face like he had when she was a little girl. "Honey? I'm proud of you." "Proud? Of me? Why? Because I ran in here like a little girl? Refused to talk to my best friend? Former best friend? Can't stop crying? Because I can't tell you what's wrong?" Her small fist hammered into her thigh as she spoke. "Proud that you called her back. That you listened to her. Sometimes these things take time. I don't pretend to know what you are going through, but I know I miss her. My heart leapt when I saw her walk into the yard. Loved her voice when she was talking to me out there. I miss her. I can't imagine how much you must miss her." "I. I do miss her. More than you can know." "And you can't forgive her?" "I don't know if I can."



"Whatever she's done, is she sorry?" "She is." "You know she is?" "She's sorry. I know it." "And you still can't forgive her? She was your best friend, honey. You've spent your life with her. Playing. Riding. Sharing secrets. And she's scared that she'll never see you again." "I know. And I'm afraid of never seeing her again." "Call her." "I. I can't." "Go see her then. She'll welcome you. I know." "Daddy. You don't understand." "I understand enough. Go see her. She's sorry. I'm sure her family is missing you, too. I hate to see you both like this. You know how a woman's tears pull at you? It's hard on me, too. You cry every day. I notice no matter how much you try and hide it." "I'm sorry, Daddy." "Don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself. Whenever you are ready. Just don't wait too long. You'll be at school in another couple of months. Separated again. If you don't make an effort you will lose her. Forever." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. She cried into his shoulder and sobbed until there weren't anymore tears. Her tears mixed with Linda's on her father's shirt. He carefully lifted her arms from around his neck and lay her back on the bed with a soft kiss on the forehead. "Go see her. Tonight. One of your midnight excursions. She'll be there. Waiting. Hoping. As she has been every night that you two have been back." She looked at him quizzically. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (48 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


"Don't look at me that way, young lady. You might have been able to fool the Reverend, but I'm a light sleeper. I had to take care of you when you were this big and smaller because your mother wasn't here. I may not have heard you every night, but enough to know that you sneaked out occasionally. I knew where you were going. I don't know what you did, probably talked all night if I know you, but I know where you went. Where else would you go? I know how young girls are. And I figured you could take care of yourself. I trusted you." "Thank you, Daddy. That means a lot to me." "You want some dinner? I can whip up some hot dogs or something?" She tried to crack a smile for him. He knew that she normally loved hot dogs for dinner. "I'm not really hungry." "If you change your mind, let me know. I'll make you whatever you want. And remember, she was your best friend. That counts for something. Whatever she did. She didn't mean to hurt you." Kate nodded and lay back on the pillows. She sighed and glanced out at the gathering gloom. She wondered where Linda was and what she was doing. The tears returned, silently running down her cheeks. *** Her alarm softly beeped at 11:45pm waking her from a fitful sleep. Her dreams had not been entirely pleasant. She had a lingering feeling that she had been tied to a chair and forced to watch Linda and Lorne make love gently in front of her. The emotion of the dream faded and within minutes she couldn't recall even that she had been dreaming. She took a deep breath and slipped on her clothing. As she pulled her jeans over her hips, she remembered vividly the sight of Linda kneeling in the dust crying earlier this afternoon. She pursed her lips and fought off her tears. Her stomach was full of butterflies. She hadn't made this trek in months. She normally enjoyed the walk or run to the Miller residence at midnight, but tonight she was just filled with apprehension. She had no clue what she'd say or if she would say anything. She didn't even know if Linda was there, or if she would respond. She'd been out of touch so long, Linda may have found something to do on these hot summer nights. Perhaps she was at a friend's house or a party.



She'd be waiting for her, her father had said. And he was never wrong. She slipped out of the room and quietly stepped down the stairs, her hand trailing on the wooden banister. As she passed through the darkened living room she almost screamed as she heard the disembodied voice float up from the easy chair. "Good luck," her father whispered. Kate swallowed and bit her tongue. She wanted to yell and scream at him for scaring her, but she didn't. Instead, she just whispered back, "Thank-you." She wondered briefly how many times he'd been sitting there as she carefully sneaked past, silently waiting for her return, making sure she was safe. She felt a little foolish, continuing to sneak out of the house, but refrained from turning on the lights. She stumbled to the back door and slipped on her running shoes. She walked out into the night. The clean night air buried itself into her lungs. She'd forgotten how invigorating it was. How erotic. She smelled the night and sighed heavily. She wondered how this night was going to turn out. She walked slowly down the winding path towards the Miller's. She sometimes ran this part of the journey, but only if she was anxious to get there. Tonight, she wasn't even sure she'd signal. Maybe she'd just stand on the back lawn and watch her window for a while. The moon was nearly full tonight. Not a harvest moon, but it lit the path preventing any stumbles. She arrived on the Miller's back lawn and checked her watch. 12:30. She took a deep breath and sat down in the shadows, hugging her knees to her chest. She watched the upstairs window. All the windows were dark. She sat there for about twenty minutes fighting with herself. Finally, she got to her feet and began to walk towards the house, her right hand full of small stones. "Kate?" a soft female voice spoke from the back porch. Kate let out a small scream and immediately dropped the stones. She clapped her hands over her mouth and prepared to run like a frightened deer back the way she'd come. The female voice laughed softly but not unkindly. "Don't run. Please. I was waiting for you. I've waited for you every http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (50 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


night for the last month. Even when it rained. Hoping that you'd come. You finally show up, and I scare you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I can't believe you came." Kate caught her breath. Linda. The other girl rose from the wicker chair on the porch and stepped down onto the lawn. She didn't run into Kate's arms as she used to. Her voice wasn't as playful anymore, just sorrowful. "I saw you sitting there on the lawn. You have no idea how hard it was not to run to you, to sit still," Linda spoke quietly. "You were watching me?" "Yes. I. I was afraid that you weren't going to come to the house. That you were just going to sit there and then leave." "I was." "Oh. If you had, I would have let you. You would never have known I was here." "I was going to signal you. With the stones." "Didn't have to, this time. Will you let me talk? Without running? I'll beg you on my knees if that's what you want." Kate slowly turned and walked back out onto the lawn. She sat down in the moonlight and motioned for Linda to join her. Linda padded over to where Kate had settled. Kate noticed that Linda was again in her nightgown. Barefoot. Linda knelt in front of Kate. How often she had removed that nightgown for Kate. Kate felt a tingle again deep inside her, but willed it away. She wasn't here for that. Not tonight. "Kate. I know I was wrong. And I'm sorry. I'll say I'm sorry until the day I die, if you want me to. I'm so sorry." "I know you're sorry, Linda. I'm sorry, too." Linda looked a bit surprised that Kate had spoken to her at all. "Whatever I can do to make things right, I will. I'll be happy if you'll just talk to me again. Even if you won't be my friend. I betrayed you. I know I did. I. I won't let it ever happen again. I promise. As long as I live. I can't go through this again. You mean too much to me."



Kate whispered so softly Linda wasn't even sure she'd heard it. "I forgive you." Tears were streaming down her face. Kate reached forward and touched Linda's hand. The first physical contact they'd had in months. She felt like electricity was flowing from Linda to herself. "I've wanted to forgive you for a long long time, but you hurt me so much." Linda closed her eyes and threw her arms around Kate's neck, hugging her fiercely, her breasts mashed into Kate as Kate melted into the intense embrace. Linda whispered, "I know I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Kate returned the hug, hungrily, missing the touch of Linda's body so much it ached inside of her. They reluctantly separated and Kate leaned back on her hands in the grass. Linda rocked back on her heels. Both girls were very unsure of where they were. What they could and couldn't do. It was as though they were strangers meeting for the first time. It had been so easy before. Kate couldn't remember if she'd ever come at midnight and they hadn't been intimate. But it didn't quite seem right, though her body was aching for Linda's knowing touches. She was sure that they both wanted it. Maybe next time they'd be ready. They looked at each other for a long time just drinking in the sight of one another. "I was afraid that I would never get to see you like this again," Linda spoke quietly. "My whole life felt ... empty. I couldn't stop thinking about you." "I know. I hated you and I loved you. Back and forth. I felt like a damn yo-yo. But it was always you on my mind." "We'll be alright, won't we?" "I don't know. I don't know how we're going to be. Let's take it slow? Alright?" Linda reached for Kate and Kate sat up, extending her hand. She gently pulled Linda towards her and they embraced again. The two women lowered themselves to the grass and just held each other. Kate let her emotions flow through her for what seemed like the first time in what felt like forever. Kate whispered, "I don't know if it can be the same as it was." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/FourSeasons.html (52 of 53)8/15/2005 12:13:22 AM


Linda closed her eyes, fought off her sudden case of nerves, and lightly brushed Kate's lips with her own. "I meant what I said at Christmas. I do love you. And I always will." Kate returned the kiss gently. "Let's start again, okay? I think I'm falling back in love with you, too, sweety. I really do. Just slow. Okay?"


© Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon All rights reserved This site and its content are protected by copyright statutes. Please enjoy the stories here freely, but permission in writing is required from the author to redistribute any of the contents or parts thereof under all circumstances. The author may be contacted via e-mail at dcrimson@yahoo. com if you wish to repost, or redistribute, the stories contained herein.

You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Sunswept - Crimson Dragon

Sunswept © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Sunswept (FF, light/first bd, rom, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - March 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== She shivered despite the fact that the bright afternoon sun was beating down on her from a crystal clear blue sky. She felt the floating dock beneath her shift as the waves gently rocked it. She idly pulled at her wrists, glancing up at the soft cord that bound them to the dock slats. She felt the familiar tingle begin in her groin, rising to her nipples as she realized for the billionth time that she was helpless. She couldn't free herself. She relaxed again, letting her body soak in the sun; the only tan lines today were going to be slight rings around her ankles and wrists where the ropes securely held her to the swimming platform. Her mind wandered back to the night before. It had been a long arduous six hour drive to get to the cabin. She'd been cramped and uncomfortable as Danielle had driven the small http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (1 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


Civic towards their destination. She had offered to drive, but Danielle would have none of that. They'd stopped twice during the long trip north for gas, bathroom breaks and a quick snack. As far as she was concerned, it hadn't been enough, but Danielle had been in a hurry. The light had been fading, and she was anxious to arrive at Sunswept. She hated car trips. "Well? What do you think?" Danielle had finally pulled the car to a stop. She spread her arms in a gesture of embrace, encompassing the clearing in which the car had halted. She mumbled, but didn't open her eyes. She had clamped her eyelids shut as they completed the last part of their journey. The last half hour had been torture. Danielle had guided the tiny car onto a two track path winding through the trees. She had felt like she was riding a roller coaster into hell. She had closed her eyes partially to block her visions of ending up wrapped uncomfortably around a pine, and partially to try to reduce the building nausea due to motion sickness, an unwelcome leftover from her childhood. "Have a look, Wendy, before the sun goes down." Wendy managed to open her eyes and groaned. She reached for the door handle, sure she was going to be sick. She struggled out of the car, fighting her body. The clean fresh air carressed her face and lungs. She took deep clensing breaths, smelling forest, rain and clover. She almost immediately felt better. The fresh air and the end of the roller coaster ride began to free her from the grip of the motion sickness. Wendy turned as she heard the other car door slam. "Are you alright?" Danielle asked concerned, finally noticing that her passenger was a little pale around the edges. She had had her attention fully on the road, and Wendy hadn't said anything. Wendy nodded. "Feeling a little better. Just a little motion sick. The fresh air is helping." She glanced around and drew in her breath, noticing her surrounding for the first time. They had stopped in a small clearing. The forest encircled them except for a small log cabin off to the right. She almost expected to see deer step out and greet her. She was a city girl; never been further out than the suburbs. When Danielle had mentioned this place she had been a bit hesitant. She loved the city http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (2 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


and couldn't see herself enjoying a place without a television and phone. There were other ways of entertaining themselves, Danielle had mentioned with a twinkle in her eye. "Well?" Danielle demanded. "Isn't this what I promised you? Solitude and peace." "This is Sunswept? I. I've never seen anything like this," Wendy stammered. "It's. It's beautiful." "Come on, let's get settled." The women grabbed their packs and Danielle ran to the cabin. She unlocked it and slipped inside. Wendy followed a bit more sedately, drinking in the new sights and smells in the twilight. Wendy immediately felt the chill as she entered the small cabin. The cabin was cold and the night treatened to be even colder. The cabin smelled of wood and home cooking. Danielle was waiting for her just inside the door. "Toss your stuff in the bedroom. Make yourself at home." Danielle pointed towards a door off to the left. Wendy wandered over to the door and walked in. Danielle's pack was lying on the floor beside the bed. She tossed her own beside it and sat down on the bed. She lay back and sank into the mattress sighing. A thick comforter and huge pillows graced the queen size bed. It even had a canopy. All she wanted to do after that gruelling drive was drift off to sleep in this wonderful bed. At least her stomach had decided to quit turning over from the trip. She heard the bedroom door open and she opened her eyes to see Danielle prance into the room. Danielle seemed happy and relaxed, almost childlike. Her long brunette hair shone in the dim light. She'd kicked off her shoes; thick socks adorned her feet. She was wearing a knitted multicolour sweater and black jeans. Her brown eyes gazed at Wendy's reclining form. Wendy's chestnut hair fanned out across the bed. Her breasts gently rose and fell underneath her sweatshirt as she breathed. She, too, was wearing jeans and white socks. "I lit the fire. It's warmer in the other room." Wendy roused herself off the bed with an effort.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (3 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


"You didn't tell me it was six bloody hours to this place." "I didn't think you'd come if I did." "I wouldn't have." "And you would have missed out on all the fun." Wendy stuck out her tongue at Danielle and walked into the other room. As Danielle had promised, there was a huge fire roaring in the hearth. She bent and warmed her hands in front of it. She turned to see Danielle walking back into the room carrying the comforter and a pillow off the bed. She had that look on her face that Wendy knew so well after a couple of months with her. "I know how to relax you," Danielle whispered. Wendy moved comfortably into her embrace as Danielle dropped the comforter to the carpet. They kissed gently, their lips exploring one another as though it was the first time. Wendy felt like she was back in high school getting her first kiss from a boy. John something-or-other. Her stomach tightened and the tingles began. She still couldn't believe that she could feel like this with a woman. Yet here she was, still feeling like it was the first time. Butterflies and tingles. She had been hesitant at first with Danielle. She still had some problems accepting that she could feel this way. Despite her reservations, it simply felt right somehow. They had been friends for so long, and then suddenly it had just happened. Both of them coming off bad relationships, consoling each other, hating men. Falling in love. It just seemed ... so natural. They hadn't said the words yet, but she knew that she was falling for Danielle, like it or not. She could feel the soft warmth of Danielle's breasts as they pressed against her own through their sweaters. She felt Danielle's hands running up and down her back as they kissed. Gasping, she realized that her own hands were doing the same thing and that Danielle was reacting. She could almost feel Danielle's nipples tightening through the clothes. She still found it hard to believe that Danielle reacted the same way she did. She'd never even considered the possibility that she might be attracted to a women until it had all clicked with Danielle. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (4 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


They gently lowered themselves to the floor in front of the fire. They softly kissed each other, their lips roaming over their faces. Tongues gently touching. Soon fingers were touching, exploring. Wendy's heart was in her throat as she felt Danielle's long fingers carressing her nipples through her sweater, touching her thighs, and tugging at the clothing. She watched, fascinated as Danielle knelt and stripped off her clothing. One slow piece at a time. She'd never tire of watching Danielle strip for her. Her fabulous breasts sprang into view. High and firm. How many times had she seen those breasts in the women's shower at the gym? And not thought anything more? It seemed so long ago, but really it had only been a couple of months since her feelings had changed so drastically. Goosebumps appeared briefly as Danielle lost her jeans. Her long legs flashed as she removed her panties, flinging them over towards the fire with her foot. Even her socks were pulled off. One at a time, teasingly. Finally, Danielle was nude in front of the fire, the flickering flames lighting her skin. She glowed in the firelight. Again she was kissed, Danielle pressing her nude body into her clothed one. Rolling. Gasping. Laughing together. She couldn't stop herself from letting her fingers stroke Danielle, touching the soft bare skin, feeling her friend's excitement growing. Quiet cries fell from Danielle's lips. Finally, Danielle tugged at her clothes, pulling them off her and kissing her at the same time. Their fingers touched one another, finding breasts, thighs, toes, faces, lips. Fingers slipping inside. The women gasped as they found one another's rhythms, feeling each other's wetness and softness. Wendy reached her climax first, crying out as all of her muscles contracted in unison, seeing coloured lights, grasping at Danielle's fingers inside of her. After her orgasm, she lay quietly beside Danielle, trying to control her wild breathing. She lay her head on Danielle's breast and again her fingers stole between Danielle's legs, finding her rhythm. She reached up and kissed Danielle's soft lips. Fingering her. Lightly pinching her left nipple as she watched Danielle's nude body moving to her touch. She knew how to tease her. She knew all her secrets. In one motion Danielle screamed and arched, climaxing heavily and gasping, whispering Wendy's name softly over and over. Danielle's head fell to the side and her breathing slowly returned to normal. Wendy sat up and reached for the forgotten comforter and



pillow. She gently pushed the pillow under Danielle's head and pulled the comforter over the both of them. She carefully tucked it around Danielle and herself, resting her cheek on Danielle's bare breast, the softest pillow on the planet. "Wendy?" Danielle whispered. "Yes?" Wendy answered sleepily. Danielle's regular breathing was lulling her to sleep. "Can I ask you something?" "Sure. You can ask me anything. But better hurry, I don't know if I can keep my eyes open much longer." "Nevermind. Sleep." "You have to be kidding. You can't do that to me. Now I'm curious." Danielle sighed. "Curiousity killed the cat. I'm not sure I want to anymore." "I think I love you, if that is what you were going to ask." "I think I'm falling in love with you, too, sweety, but that isn't it. Though it is nice to know." Danielle stroked Wendy's hair with her fingers. "Do I have to beg you to ask me?" "Wendy? You know that I really like what we do? The sex? The way you make me feel?" "Yeah. You know I feel the same way. It's wonderful when we're together. I've never had sex like this. I feel alive. I feel like I'm back in high school. Discovering myself. Everytime feels like the first time with you." "What if I wanted to change things? Do something a little different? What would you think?" "This has to do with sex? Honey, you know that you can talk to me about sex. How many times did we talk about boyfriends before we were together?"



She felt Danielle swallow. "This. Actually. Sort of. Has to do with that." "Huh?" "Do you remember Bob?" "Bob?" "You went out with him a few years back? You told me about him?" She vaguely remembered him. Nice guy. Handsome. She had been in college with the guy. She couldn't even remember why they'd broken up. Another woman perhaps? "I guess." "I remember you telling me about him. Do you remember the sex you had with him?" Wendy was completely confused. She often had talked to Danielle about her sex life before they had discovered one another. Just girl talk. She vaguely remembered being upset about something, talking about Bob to Danielle in a coffee shop somewhere after classes. Why should Danielle remember Bob of all people? It wasn't as though he was one of her more remarkable lovers. Why bring him up now? Maybe Danielle had slept with him too? "I guess. What's this all about, Dani? Did you sleep with him? I don't mind, you know. It was a long time ago. He might be a bit surprised how it turned out though ..." Wendy smiled at that thought. Danielle swallowed, gathering her courage. Now or never. "Sweety, I never slept with any of your boyfriends. I wouldn't. You know that." She paused fighting down the butterflies that had just taken flight in her stomach. "You once told me that he wanted to tie you up. You know. For sex." "Oh, that. Yeah." Wendy smiled at the memory, how nervous Bob had been in suggesting it. Almost as nervous as Danielle was being now. Her memories were flooding back. He had read about it somewhere, wanted to try it. She hadn't been so secure of her sexuality back then. She hadn't felt comfortable with the idea, hadn't felt



entirely comfortable with Bob, although that was hardly his fault. She remembered that she hadn't let him. She vaguely remembered being a little upset about the whole thing, more that she'd disappointed him than anything else. They'd broken up shortly afterwards, though she didn't think it had anything to do with the suggestion. "Did. Did you ever try it?" "No. I was younger. That was my first year of college. Unsure of myself. Of Bob. If I'm remembering correctly, I just didn't feel comfortable with it. Maybe that was why I broke up with him. I don't think so, but I don't really remember." Danielle was silent. "Why?" Wendy asked softly. Danielle remained silent, frightened to continue. She didn't want to lose Wendy. Her friendship. Her respect. Her love. She'd rather just let this drop than lose any of her. "No reason," she finally said quietly. "You want to tie me up?" Wendy asked jokingly. "I. I think so," Danielle spoke so softly Wendy wasn't sure she'd heard it. Wendy swallowed and turned her face towards Danielle. She found her eyes and captured them. Danielle's eyes reflected her uneasiness and an unspoken apology. "You're serious." Danielle spoke softly and quickly. "Wendy? I'm sorry. I. I've been thinking of that ever since you told me about Bob. God, I don't believe I just told you. I. I've dreamt about it. I didn't mean to offend you. We won't do it. We don't have to. I. I like what we have together, now. Honest. I just thought ..." her voice trailed off in her misery and with her loss of what to say next. Wendy smiled and nestled her head back against Danielle's breast. "You can tie me up," she whispered. "You just surprised me is all. It sounds like fun." http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (8 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


Both girls were silent, lost in their own private thoughts. Both were looking forward to tomorrow in their own way. It took a while, but they both fell into an exhausted sleep in each other's arms on the floor, surrounded by the sounds of the dying fire and the crickets of the night. *** They had both run down to the small beach, Danielle in a bright red one- piece swimsuit and Wendy in a yellow bikini. They had both cried out as they hit the cold water, playfully splashing one another and enjoying the afternoon sun. It was a cool day, the kind that appear near the end of the summer in late August. The sun was shining in a flawless blue sky, warming them as they played. They had eventually swum out to the floating dock. They had stretched themselves out and just talked quietly, both shivering as the cool water evaporated from their skin. They'd been silent for a while, simply enjoying the warm day, the sun, each other's presence and the soft sounds of water lapping at the drums holding them afloat. "Right here," Wendy spoke softly. She took a deep breath, turned to her side and looked at Danielle. Danielle's eyes widened, understanding. Wendy sat up rocking the dock gently. She reached behind herself and released the ties on her top. She slipped the bottoms down her long legs and handed her suit to Danielle. The other woman just watched, fascinated as her friend undressed outside and handed her the bikini. She didn't know if she could strip out in the open like that, even though there should only be the two of them within fifty miles. "Take these. And bring back your toys if you want." Wendy smiled at Danielle. Without another word, Danielle dove into the lake. She screeched as she surfaced. She breaststroked to the shore, a flash of red and breif yellow. Upon reaching the beach, she turned. She gazed out at Wendy kneeling nude on the platform. She couldn't believe that Wendy was going to go through with this for her. She'd dreamt about it for so long. Anticipated it. Wanted it. Danielle shook her head,



spraying lakewater from her long hair, and turned up towards the cabin. She emerged moments later carrying some items in her hands. Soon, she was climbing back up onto the platform beside Wendy shivering. Wendy had stretched herself out, scarcely believing that she was doing it, her arms extended above her, her ankles wide, spread-eagled on the swim deck. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations of the cords wrapping around her wrists and ankles. She felt so helpless and vulnerable. She trusted Danielle completely and absolutely, otherwise, this wouldn't be happening. She slowly felt her freedom being taken away. And it felt good. Erotic. She felt Danielle rise to her bare feet, the deck shifting under her. She opened her eyes, unconsciously pulling at the bonds holding her to the platform. She felt the rough wood against her bottom and her back as she squirmed. She could wiggle her toes, but she couldn't rise. She couldn't move. She couldn't stop Danielle from doing whatever she pleased. She was stuck here until she was untied. It was so ironic. She felt free. No responsibility. No guilt. Just Danielle and her. And yet, she was so restricted. There were just simple cords, a swim deck and her. Danielle reached for the other item she'd brought out to the lake. Sunblock. Wendy cried out as the cold liquid was poured over her. Danielle worked the coconut smelling oils into her skin, grinning as she spent extra time on her bare breasts. "Can't have you burning out here. Not a lot of protection and I don't want you to be sunburnt for the rest of the weekend." Wendy remained silent. The irony was exquisite. She was burning anyway, just nothing to do with the sun. She was turned on far more than she thought she'd be. Danielle finished and then stretched out beside her bound friend. She teasingly ran her fingers along Wendy's bare skin, tracing her ribs just under her soft breasts. She teased Wendy and just enjoyed the afternoon sun. Soon Wendy was quietly moaning, not even aware of it. Danielle rose again. Wendy watched as Danielle stepped between her outstretched legs. Danielle knelt. Her mouth felt wonderful as she explored Wendy. Her http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (10 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


fingers teased Wendy's skin as her kisses and her tongue found her clit, her long fingers deep inside. Pumping. Licking. Teasing. Without warning, Danielle stopped. With an evil grin, Danielle ignored Wendy's begging and dove off the platform, leaving Wendy frustrated, aroused, naked, and bound. She watched as Danielle disappeared into the cabin, unable to call her back, unable to do anything. Wendy was nearly in tears, wanting her climax, but unable to finish it herself. She pulled weakly at the cords holding her body, nearly crying in her frustration, feeling helpless and alone. She realized that this was part of the game. Her climax when it came would be ten times more wonderful. She knew that. She just had to wait and trust. She was sure that Danielle was watching her from the cabin, making sure she was safe and enjoying her discomfort, watching to make sure that no stray teenagers wandered by in a fishing boat or something. She felt so damned exposed out here. She felt the tingling again. She lay there for what seemed forever. She felt her arousal slowly cool down, shivering a bit in the almost fall air, her nipples hardening again. She lost herself in her own thoughts, allowing herself to travel through her mind, unable to do anything else. Finally she ended up at how she had gotten here. Alone. Naked. Bound. Frustrated. In the middle of this isolated lake, watching as the sun approached the horizon. She knew that she was ready. Her body was excited again just at the thoughts of her firelit lovemaking last night. She was looking forward to Danielle lighting another fire again tonight. She desperately hoped that Danielle would return soon and let her climax, dousing the fire she had burning now between her outstretched legs. She opened her eyes again as she heard a quiet splash and a cry of dismay. She watched from the platform as Danielle hesitantly entered the water by the beach. She had discarded the red one-piece. She was glancing about nervously as though there was a crowd watching her instead of just her girlfriend out on the floating dock, and perhaps a chipmunk or two. Wendy still loved the sight of Danielle's nudity even after having seen it so many times. She seriously doubted if she'd ever get tired of seeing Danielle. She watched quietly as the other girl stroked her way back out to the platform. "Ready for the finale?" Danielle asked softly as she climbed up on



the platform, shaking it and its bound passenger. Despite her shivering, she looked a little flushed. "God, am I ever," Wendy breathed. Danielle knelt by Wendy's bound feet and ran her tongue along her bare toes. "Noooo!" Wendy wailed. "Please. No more teasing." Danielle continued her minstrations knowing that Wendy would be just wild after this. Normally, she wasn't much into the foot thing, but Wendy just loved the sensations. Bound, she couldn't do a thing about the tease. She could only rise higher on her excitement wave until Danielle brought her crashing down. With soft kisses, Danielle roved slowly up Wendy's bound legs until she was lying easily on her front between Wendy's stretched legs, one bare foot reaching for the sky. Danielle could feel the platform pressing into her bare breasts and belly. She grinned, still determined to tease Wendy. "Please?" Wendy begged. Danielle used her fingers, lightly stroking her friend, teasing her outer lips. After an eternity, she lowered her head and used her tongue. Finding Wendy's center, her clit. Licking. Stroking. Sucking. Kissing. Finding Wendy's rhythm that she knew so well. It didn't take long for Wendy to climax. She had been more than ready three hours ago. Electric shocks worked up and down Wendy's bound body as she pulled against the cords holding her down. The second wave took her body as Danielle continued to use her tongue through the first orgasm. Finally, she collapsed. Panting. Whispering, "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you," over and over until Danielle's lips met hers, quieting her. She could feel her arousal returning as she faintly tasted herself on Danielle's lips. She could feel the heat begin to rise in her clit and nipples again as Danielle kissed her. She groaned. Danielle worked herself around and straddled Wendy's face, gently lowering herself. This game, Wendy's bare body, and being outside had aroused her intensely, she could feel the pulsing in her clit and her nipples. She idly brushed at her own and Wendy's erect nipples as Wendy set to her task with loving care. Using only her tongue, she found her lover's clit and teased her. She touched http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Sunswept.html (12 of 14)8/15/2005 12:13:34 AM


purposely at a different speed than normal. She could hear the moans of frustration as Danielle struggled for her release, pressing herself against Wendy, trying to match her thrusting to Wendy's tongue and not to her own natural rhythm. Wendy switched speed and motions as she felt her friend come too near the edge. Her subtle revenge. "I know what you are doing," Danielle gasped. "I'm not letting you up until you let me climax, you know." Wendy smiled. Caught. She found Danielle's normal rhythm and stopped her teasing. She thought that she'd be happy to stay in these bonds until the morning if necessary. She felt so alive, so free here. However, the fire was sounding better and better. The light was fading fast and the girls still had to make supper. Without any protection from the light wind, she was shivering and hungry. The night would be cold if she was left out here. Danielle wouldn't let her stay out here, she was sure. Even if she asked. Even if she didn't let her climax. Danielle screamed as she finally reached her orgasm; her fingers played with the cords that held Wendy's wrists. She almost smothered Wendy as she collapsed from her orgasm. As soon as she had recovered sufficiently, her fingers pulled quickly at the cords, freeing the bound girl. The girls immediately fell into each other's arms, gently stroking one another's hair, content to just hold each other afterwards. The platform gently rocked as they shared their body heat and gently kissed. Finally Wendy broke their embrace and sat up, rubbing her wrists, grinning mischeviously. She could barely see Danielle in the fading light. "Gotcha." Danielle gasped, "That. Was. Wonderful." She still hadn't quite recovered from her release. Wendy kissed Danielle on the lips and guided her to the edge of the platform. They slipped into the water with sharp gasps. They swam slowly together back to the shore, holding hands beneath the dark water. The light was nearly gone. They stopped halfway back, treading water, listening to the night, watching the stars wink into existence, feeling the cool water carressing their nude bodies. They kissed tenderly as they shivered. They continued to hold hands until they entered the cabin where Danielle had lit another fire.



Shivering, they huddled naked together in front of it, just holding each other, wrapped in the comforter again, warming themselves. Wondering where this was going to take them.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

March Twenty-first - Crimson Dragon

March Twenty-first © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== March Twenty-First (FF, rom) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - March 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Lori felt herself falling. The sensation curious and simultaneously frightening. A dark void seemed to swallow her, as though she wasn't there. But she was. She had just slipped into bed, the crisp sheets and the heavy comforter providing a solace from the cold wind and sleet swirling just outside the window. She hated winter. She was perpetually cold, except when she was in bed. Or in Heather's arms. She could still feel the lingering warmth of Heather's soft lips. Still detect her soft scent on her fingers. Almost reexperience the gentle love making in Heather's living room. Still remembered the sight of Heather, as Lori had walked through the swirling snow to her Pathfinder, standing, almost forlorn, in the doorway waving. Only her satin nightgown protecting her small body from the ice and snow. Shivering, but waiting for Lori to drive out of sight before http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/March_21.html (1 of 7)8/15/2005 12:13:48 AM


finally allowing herself to close the door against the elements. Lori knew she should have stayed. Especially on a night like this. Like she had wanted to. Like Heather had wanted her to. But she couldn't. What if someone had seen her truck? Known somehow? Known that Heather and her were sharing a bed. In love? She felt so guilty. So unsure of herself. And Heather. God, she wished she was here. So understanding. So patient. Waiting for her to understand herself. Her feelings. All these stupid thoughts running through her mind. And running away. Back to her empty apartment. And her comforter. Just not the same as Heather's soft skin. A tear tracked slowly down Lori's cheek, unheeded. She closed her eyes. Unable to sleep with the howl of the wind outside. Missing Heather. She shivered, despite the fact that she was finally warm. The sound of the wind haunting her. Somewhere far to the south and on the other side of the world, the sun quietly slipped across the equator. Then, falling. Her head swimming. Coloured lights. Spinning around her. She fell. Through the fabric of time itself. She felt warmth. Different. She finally braved opening her eyes. It was twilight. A soft warm breeze ruffled her blonde hair as she raised her head. Blonde? Her hair was a soft shade of chestnut. She touched her hair, bringing the tresses in front of her eyes. Blonde. And smelling of clover. She felt the soft grass beneath her body. Confused, she turned over and sat up. Gazing through the soft light surrounding her. Lori took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Her nose tingling. The air seemed cleaner somehow. Fragrant. The smells of a wet rain, forest, mist, soft flowers and incense. She took another deep breath. Holding it deep in her lungs. Savouring it. She slowly climbed to her bare feet. She looked down. Bare? She distinctly remembered wearing thick socks to bed. She had been so cold. But this obviously was no longer her bed. And she was no longer cold. A vivid dream, perhaps? She didn't remember falling asleep. She idly pinched her arm. She didn't awaken. She looked down at herself again. She was wearing a simple white robe. Almost diaphanous. Swirling around her body as she moved. The slight wind curling it around her as she stood. She could see the http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/March_21.html (2 of 7)8/15/2005 12:13:48 AM


swelling of her breasts as they pushed the fabric away from her body like gentle hills. Felt the soft, almost caressing, touch as the unknown fabric kissed her body. She brought her hands up. No nail polish? She pulled the simple clasp holding the silken material together at her throat away from herself. She almost laughed. Nothing underneath. This had to be a dream. Despite not needing one, she rarely, if ever, went without at least a bra. And those weren't her breasts. Similar, but not hers. She turned slowly. Mist. Low rolling hills in all directions. And the twilight almost eerie. Lighting up the scenery. Beautiful. She heard faint voices. She knew she ought to be frightened. But she wasn't. The voices strangely compelling. Her body reacting to the almost chanting voices. Her bare feet began to move on the grass, pulling her towards the source of the soft sounds. The hint of incense intensifying as she walked slowly towards a hill. The diffused light not allowing her to make a determination of direction. But it didn't seem to matter. As she crested the hill, she halted. Confused and unsure of herself. A ring of stones had risen from the moor in the valley below. A flock of people were assembled there. Softly chanting. Some had their faces upturned towards her. Some facing in the opposite direction. All were clad in simple white tunics. Barefoot. All female. There were small fires burning to each side of the ring, sending fragrant smoke up into the evening air. She followed the gaze of faint outline of another as Lori was atop a small features of the stranger her of Heather.

the women not gazing at her and saw the person. Female. Across the valley. Standing hill. She couldn't make out any other through the mist. The faint figure reminded

The voices called to her. She could feel it deep in her being. The calling. She felt like she was almost outside her body, watching as she moved herself slowly down the hill, her bare feet whispering through the grass. The other figure slowly moving down the hill opposite, mirroring her movements. She swallowed as she approached. Her heart in her throat. Not understanding. Understanding not being required of her. As she approached, she could hear the women's voices harmonizing. A haunting sound, like bagpipes, but not, accompanying the beautiful

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/March_21.html (3 of 7)8/15/2005 12:13:48 AM


voices. Some ancient instrument. She didn't understand the women's words; the language soft and harsh at the same time. The women parted for her, making a path through themselves. Their voices encouraging her to pass into the ring of stones. On the other side of the circle, she could vaguely see the other figure, slowly striding through the parted women on the opposite side. The other figure was dressed as she. Diaphanous satin, bare feet. Her face, like an angel. Deep red hair tumbling across her shoulders. Unfamiliar features, and yet familiar. Lovely. The robes clinging then releasing her body as she moved. The myriad of voices filling her senses. Lori stopped in the center of the ring of stones. A raised dais, perhaps a foot high, of dark granite grew from the soft grass. The woman of the deep red hair also halted. The two women faced each other, gazing at one another. She couldn't control her tongue. She tried. Tried to call out to the woman across the dais. Tried to speak her name. Instinctively trying to call out to Heather. Call Heather's name. Though Heather looked nothing like the ethereal woman across from her. Lori's mouth opened and a metifluous voice, not her own, called out clearly a single word, "Akana." The voices surrounding the ring fell silent. The soft wind rustling the fabric of the women's garments was the only sound. Even the fires were silent. "She-al." The other woman spoke softly in reply. Somehow Lori knew that this woman was speaking her name. And that Akana was her own. The light was fading. The mist curling over the granite between the women. She watched as the other woman reached up to her throat, carefully unclasping the gown. Letting it fall in a flutter of satin to the grass. Standing proud. Her nudity glorious in the fading light. Her bare breasts upthrust. Her skin inviting in the flickering of the fires. Lori felt her own fingers as they unclasped her gown. Again, the flutter of satin breaking the unearthly silence. As she stepped up onto the platform, feeling the texture of the rock beneath her soles, the voices rose again as one. Almost in celebration. Rapture. Joy. The haunting notes softly flowing across http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/March_21.html (4 of 7)8/15/2005 12:13:48 AM


the expanse, filling the world. She could understand the music, if not the language behind it. The women embraced. Their soft skin pressing against one another. Breathing laboured. Joining. Softly whispering each other's names. Akana and She-al. She-al, moved her body. They moved together. Letting the notes join them. Move them. Dancing. Slowly. Together. Skin to skin. She-al, so like Heather, but smaller. More demure. Raised her face. Eyes closed. Lori, bending. Letting their lips touch. Allowing her tongue to trace along She-al's lips. Softly. Moaning. Lori's body reacting to the kiss. She could feel her heat, despite herself. She-al, so like Heather, but not. Lori felt her nipples rising, touching She-al's. Lori gasping at the heightened sensations. Knowing this unfamiliar body. Feeling the closeness. Fingers wandering. Caressing. The voices. Rising. Flooding the women with sound and energy. The fingers finding secret places. But knowing the secrets. Somehow. Tracing curves. Breasts. Shoulders. Throats. Bellies. Between their legs. Probing further. Inside. Soft cries mixing with the surrounding music. They lowered themselves to the harsh rock, their bodies feeling the rough texture of the stone. Cool beneath them. She-al's fingers finding her again. The music joining the women. Understanding. At the climax, they would be one. Committed to each other. Loving each other. Forever. The voices reached a crescendo. Lori aware of herself. Of She-al. Of the music. Of her fingers. The softness of She-al. The music filling her as she climaxed to She-al's touch. Crying out quietly. Hearing She-al's delicate voice crying out as she, too, reached her orgasm. Their voices harmonizing with the voices surrounding them. Lori felt her heart hammering beneath her ribs. Feeling intense love for this stranger. Feeling like she'd known her all her life. Shared happiness. The wonders of her life. Shared her grief. Wanted to spend her life with this woman. Loving her. Forever. The two women kissed once more. Tenderly. Knelt, waiting. The voices around them slowly silenced. The shadowy figures filing away into the mist. One approaching, her white tunic floated through the mists towards the kneeling, naked, flushed women. An elder.



"Akana. She-al. Maresque," the elder intoned softly, her fingers touching the women's slightly damp hair. It was done. Lori kissed She-al once more. Tasting her lips. Kissing a tear from her cheek. Salty. Melding with Lori's senses. The elder turned silently away, disappearing into the mists. Lori felt herself falling again. The darkness enveloping her as she descended once again into the dark depths. Lights flashing behind her eyes. Dizzy. Crying out. She opened her eyes. Disoriented. She lifted the covers. Nightgown. Socks. She ran her hand through her long hair. Pulling it in front of her eyes. Soft chestnut. She pulled at the throat of her nightgown. She recognized her own breasts. She felt it; it wasn't a dream. She-al. She could still feel her wetness, her lips, her closeness, her love. The sharp taste of the salt from her tears. Tears brimmed over Lori's eyes, unbidden. A deep sense of loss. A deep wanting within her breast. She slipped out from beneath her warm covers. The wind had quieted outside. She hurriedly threw on her clothes. Knowing what she wanted. Needed. She almost left the apartment without her shoes. Turning, slipping her feet into her boots, she left at a run. Almost forgetting to lock her door behind her. The night was deepening. Not much traffic after the storm. She drove quickly, but carefully. The Pathfinder tracking through the slush. Wanting to get there alive, but needing to get there. Now. Something calling her. She pulled into the driveway. Ran up the walk. Rang the bell. Waited. Not feeling the biting cold as she normally did. Shifting her weight from foot to foot. Heather answered the door, dressed only in her satin nightgown. Shivering. Worried. Her face as flushed as Lori knew her own must be. Lori desperately tried to speak her name. Make her understand. Understand how much she needed her. How much she loved her. "She-al." Lori's lips formed the only word she could. "Akana."


Cassandra - Crimson Dragon

Cassandra © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Cassandra (MF, FF, psych) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - March 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== "Do you want to fuck me?" she asked quietly from the dark leather chair where she was seated. She'd been sitting silently, relaxed, just watching him for some time before she finally spoke. He sat safely behind his oversized desk and looked at her. Petite. Long blonde hair. Her legs tucked under herself. She possessed the most kissable lips that he could ever remember seeing. She was barely out of her teens. Her dazzling blue eyes were fixed upon his face. She exuded sexuality. He wasn't surprised by her question. He was surprised by his immediate response. Yes. Of course, he wanted her; anyone would. Instead, he answered her in a quiet and thoughtful voice, "Sarah. That isn't why you are here. And you know it." Joyce Moore had referred this girl to him about a month ago. She was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (1 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:01 AM


deeply troubled, had violent behaviour, and was extremely anti-social. Joyce had cautioned him before he had seen the girl for the first time. Sarah had problems in her past that Joyce hadn't been able to uncover. She no longer felt comfortable treating Sarah; no further explanation given. She had warned him about Sarah and her techniques of avoidance. This was the first time Sarah had been so blatant with him. She hadn't given any indication at all of her sexuality up until this point. In fact, she'd seemed almost shy of discussing anything to do with sex. He wondered if it was a good sign or a bad one. The girl leaned forward with her steady gaze still fixed on his face. Her lovely lips moved forming the dangerous words, "You want to fuck me. I can see it in your eyes. I see a lot. You can have me, you know." He swallowed hard. "Sarah. Let's get back on track here. Okay?" The lithe girl pursed her lips and leaned back in the leather chair. "What if I'm not Sarah?" A mischevious smile played around her lips. "You could fuck me if I wasn't Sarah, couldn't you?" He considered her words. Multiple? This was her tenth appointment. She'd never displayed any other symptoms before this. Despite his initial doubts, he had to take her seriously, even if she was playing with him. "Who are you then, if not Sarah?" "What if I told you I was Cassandra?" She leaned forward in her chair. "You want me to call you Cassandra?" "It doesn't really matter what you call me. As long as you do what I want. You can use your wife's name, if it makes it any easier." Cassandra was his wife's name. The coincidence disturbed him. Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence; though, how this girl would be able to find out his wife's name was beyond him. He suddenly felt off balance. He knew about these. It happened to every doctor. A lovely patient doing exactly this. His mind was spinning. Her purfume washed over him. Her sexuality captivated him. His concentration was becoming fuzzy. This was first year stuff. How to deal with a patient like http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (2 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:01 AM


this. Every student was warned. Stop? Try to guide her back to the session? Get someone else into the room? Bury his emotions and reactions and explore this avenue? Allow her to continue her advances? Would it lead to her problem? He was almost sure that he shouldn't encourage her. He just couldn't remember. He felt like pounding his fist into the desk. How should he handle this? He'd already failed with her so often. Previous sessions ended with her lashing out at him; hurting herself, breaking things. Violent. Unfortunately the human mind wasn't an exact science. His finger traced the call button on the intercom. He wanted to push it and get Sheila, his receptionist, in here. He withdrew his hand. He should be able to handle this. He was a professional. Dammit. This was just a girl. A lovely girl, a disturbed girl, but above all a patient. There were responsibilities here. She had come to him for help, not to his receptionist. He had to provide that help to the best of his abilities. He took a breath and continued. "Sarah. Do you want to talk about your sexuality today?" "I'm not Sarah. I'm Cassandra. And no. I don't want to talk. Mrs. Moore asked me the same thing." "Alright. Cassandra. Who are you?" He thought it might just be better to go along with her. He decided to let her lead the discussion though he didn't really believe that she was a multiple, at least not a classic one. Classic cases of multiple personalities were exceptionally rare and this girl was smart enough to fake it. At least until he caught her. What he couldn't figure out was why she'd want to fake it. Didn't make sense. "I'm Sarah, but I'm not. I help Sarah. Share her. It's hard to explain." "Cassandra, you know Sarah?" "Of course." "Does she know you?" "Who do you think called me? She likes you."

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (3 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:01 AM


This was beginning to get deeper. Perhaps Cassandra did exist after all. The voice was harsher, less gentle than Sarah's voice normally was. Huskier. He hated to admit it; her voice was sexier. It was hard to fake complete personality shifts for very long. If she was faking it, she was doing an excellent job. "She likes me? In what way?" he continued. He wanted to determine if she was faking this or not. His ultimate goal here was to find out what was behind her violence and her other anti-social behaviour. What was behind her sudden personality shift? Was it all related? "Likes you, likes you. What do you think?" She'd uncurled her legs, crossing them demurely and teasingly. She had to be aware of what she was doing. "Cassandra. Why are you here?" Changing tacks. "To fuck you. Why else? Isn't that what everyone wants? To be fucked? Don't you want me? I'm soft and I don't bite." He swallowed. Letting his eyes travel her body. He struggled to slow his heart. Of course, he wanted to scream at her. Of course, he wanted her. She must have seen his appraising look. Soft and she didn't bite. "Can I speak to Sarah again?" A mischevious grin. "Not until you do what I want." He took a deep breath. "Cassandra. Sarah. You know that we can't do what you want. If you even want it." He spoke a bit haltingly. "But you want to. I can see it. And of course I want it. Don't be silly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't." In one fluid motion, the girl rose out of the chair. She kicked off her running shoes. Her shoes landed with a light thud in front of the desk. She wasn't wearing socks. She walked over to the desk, her bare feet whispering across the carpet; she leaned on his desk, thrust her breasts out against her sweater. He was almost sure he could make out her nipples beneath the fabric of her top. He tore his gaze away from her with a huge effort. "You want me," she spoke in her husky voice. Her voice had far more experience than he would have imagined in a girl this age. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (4 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:01 AM


"Sarah. I'm going to have to stop this session if you can't behave. We can explore this at some other time. Or with someone else here. I don't want to stop it, we're making progress, but I will." "I'm not Sarah." She took a deep breath and returned to her chair. She purposefully recrossed her legs and flexed her bare toes. "What's this all about, Cassandra? You can talk to me." She sat back, crossing her arms under her breasts. "What do you want to know?" "I need to know about you. Your past. What you are feeling now." "I'm hot and I'm wet. I'm aching for you. Your touch. That's what I am feeling." Her hand stole to her right breast and she gently traced it through her sweater with her index finger. Her eyes locked onto his. "Care to help me with that?" "Cassandra. You must know that we can't do anything. Even if I was interested." "I know you are interested." He felt himself reacting to her again. He reached for the intercom. "I'm going to have to stop this for today. You can come back tomorrow, and we'll discuss it then. Okay?" "You can't handle me alone? Poor man." Then more softly, "I'll behave." He looked at her. She looked so innocent. She was able to switch back and forth. She could turn her demeanor on and off, like a light switch. He withdrew his hand from the button. "Cassandra? Put your shoes back on if we are going to continue. Okay?" "Cassandra? Who is that?" A softer voice, almost frightened. "Sarah?"



"What happened? I. I'm confused." She looked down at her bare feet. "What happened to my shoes?" He didn't quite know how to deal with this. "Sarah, you blacked out for a moment. You kicked your shoes off. Why don't you put them back on before we continue?" She looked at him suspiciously. Frightened. She sat unmoving in her chair. She blinked. "Because I don't want to put them on. I'm comfortable." The harsher, deeper voice returned. "Cassandra?" "Of course, who'd you think it was?" "Sarah doesn't know about you, does she?" "Of course she does. Who do you think calls me?" "Why are you back? I'd like to talk to Sarah if you'll let me." "She'll be back after we fuck." "You know we can't do that." "Why not?" "Cassandra, you know why not." "Don't you find me attractive? Who's going to find out? I won't tell if you don't." "I'd like to talk to Sarah." "I'm not wearing any underwear. You want to see?" "No. Cassandra. Keep your clothes on. Okay? I'll have to stop this if you take anything else off. Understand?" "I understand. I'll be good." She grinned mischeviously. She knew that he wasn't going to force her to replace her shoes. She flexed her bare toes, almost casually, except he knew that nothing she did http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (6 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:01 AM


was casual. At least in this persona. His eyes were glued to her small bare feet. And she knew it. He took a deep breath, wondering how to proceed. "If I've been bad, you can spank me," she spoke softly before he had a chance to gather his thoughts. Now this was interesting. He idly wondered if physical abuse had contributed to this. In cases of multiple personalities, often some of it could be traced back to sexual or physical abuse in the past. The alternate personality was created to absorb the pain that the original personality couldn't. Perhaps, she was trying to tell him something unconsciously. He remained silent letting her continue. This was almost certainly a genuine case of multiple personalities. He could tell the difference. There was simply no way that she could fake it this long without slipping somewhere. "You want to spank me, don't you?" she spoke again, softly. "Not really." Though he did. He couldn't get the image of himself spanking her writhing body out of his mind. "Have you been spanked before?" "You can you know. I'll let you." Her hands stole to the base of her sweater, fingering the material. Her fingernails almost sparkled in contrast with the pale skin of her hands. His thoughts roamed to what else she might be able to do with those soft hands. Red nails stroking. Her body slowly slipping to her knees on the carpet. He forced his mind back to the job at hand. "Have you been spanked before?" he asked again patiently, trying to control his breathing. "Lots of times. I like it. It turns me on." "Cassandra? Does Sarah like to be spanked too?" "I don't know. Does it matter? She likes you. If she likes you, she will do anything for you. Right?" Her fingers still played casually with the fabric of her sweater. "Let me take off my clothes for you? You want me to, don't you?" "Cassandra. I'd prefer if you didn't do that." He hated lying to



patients. She stretched out like a cat in the chair. She extended her long legs towards him. "You can tie me up if you want. Spank me. Right there. On your desk. Tie my hands. My feet. Tight. I'll be helpless. Then you can spank me. My breasts. My legs. My feet. My face. Even between my legs. You'd like that wouldn't you? I don't mind." She held her wrists out towards him, close together, offering herself. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. It felt like it was hammering into his ribs. He closed his eyes seeing pictures of this lovely creature exactly as she'd discribed. Naked. Helpless. Spanked. He fought it, trying to think of his wife. His daughter. His car. Anything but her. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. She had taken advantage of his inattentiveness, removing her sweater while images of her flitted beneath his closed lids. Her sweater lay crumpled on the ground by her bare feet in front of her chair, a flash of blue against the mottled carpet. She was smiling at him, proud of herself. His eyes had been drawn to the flash of colour on the ground. He slowly raised his eyes. She had been telling the truth earlier about the underwear, at least up top. Her breasts were even more perfect than he'd imagined. Upthrust. Firm. Her breasts heaved as she gazed at him with her ragged breathing, her nipples noticeably erect. "You want me. I know you do." And she was so right. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Cassandra. You have got to put your shirt back on. Please." "You don't like my breasts?" She gently squeezed them, playing with her nipples. They hardened further under her touch. "Cassandra, please. I will stop this." She settled back into her chair, a mischevious smile gracing her full lips again. "Don't you want to know if I've done this before?"



Christ. If he stopped this now, then what? Would he ever get another chance to probe this deeply into her psyche? His rational mind screamed that he was a professional and that he would be able to break through her defenses without resorting to this. It would just take some time. This wasn't right. "Have you?" his irrational mind had to know. "Do you want to fuck me?" she whispered again. "Answer me and I'll answer you." "Cassandra. This isn't how it works." "Why? Because you are the big doctor? I get to bare my soul? And what do I get in return? I don't even get to bare this body for you? Why do you get to ask all the questions? Make all the rules? Hmmmm?" "Cassandra, put your top back on. Now. Please." "No. Do you want to fuck me?" He took a deep breath. "You know we can't. When have you done this before?" "Joyce wasn't as hard to break as you are. But then, she quit the first session when I kicked off my shoes for her." He swallowed. Joyce? His head felt fuzzy. His rational mind kicked in. She was lying. Trying to trap him. Trying to shock him. She took advantage of the pause. "Do you want me to take off my shorts? I will you know." Her fingers were playing with the button. "I'm not wearing panties." "No Cassandra. I want you to put back on your shirt and your shoes." "I made love to Joyce. She's your friend, isn't she?" Perhaps her delusions would provide an answer. "She's my friend. And she isn't homosexual. When did you make love to her?" "Have you ever made love to her? How could you possibly know she



isn't a closet lesbian?" "How I know isn't relevant here." He and Joyce were good friends. Collegues. There had been some attraction, but it hadn't developed into anything. He was married. She was married. They respected that. They'd attended some functions together, even danced. But they hadn't proceeded beyond harmless flirtations. Overall, he supposed, he didn't really know if she was bisexual, or homosexual for that matter. But Joyce's sexual preferences weren't the issue here. "You haven't had her. I can see it in your eyes. That's too bad. She was quite an attentive lover. You would have liked her almost as much as you are going to like me." "Cassandra, you know we can't do this. We can talk all you like. And you don't need to be naked. Put back on your sweater." The words were becoming an effort to say. The sight of her breasts was rattling him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her half naked body, her long bare legs, her small toes. He couldn't help wondering just what was beneath those shorts. "I like being naked. She resisted, too, you know. Longer than you will. I had to work on her for three full sessions before she let me do what I wanted. She stopped the sessions twice. But she was easier than you." "Who? Mrs. Moore?" "Joyce. Yes." "So you are bisexual then?" "Isn't everyone? Isn't that what they teach you in your precious psychology courses?" "Let's get back to how you like being spanked." "You liked hearing about that? You want to spank me? You can. As much and as hard as you like. Where ever you like. I'll let you. Have you ever spanked a woman during sex? I have. It's quite a rush hearing her scream. I can scream for you. Or I can keep quiet. You can even gag me if you like. I'd even let you gag me with my own panties if I was wearing any. I'll do whatever you want." "Cassandra, I don't want to spank you." He tried to lie convincingly http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (10 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:02 AM


to this vixen. His arousal was mounting by huge increments as he listened to her. "You want to tie me up, then? Fuck me while I'm helpless? Spank me when I'm helpless? That's what finally got Joyce." "When was the first time you realized that you liked these types of things?" "A long, long time ago. It doesn't matter. Joyce liked tying me up." He swallowed hard, trying unsuccessfully to will the images away. Images flashed though his mind of this girl, squirming, tied down on Joyce's desk. Crying out as Joyce hit her. The two of them making love tenderly. "You're picturing it, aren't you?" she asked. "Me. And Joyce." "Sarah. We are going to have to stop for today." "She finally let me strip. And then we moved all her pads and pencils and things off her desk together. She used her scarves. Tied my wrists. And my ankles. My legs apart. We kissed. Right there in her office. Like that. Me helpless. Vulnerable. Joyce loved it." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore her voice. He couldn't stop her. He couldn't will the mental images out of his mind. He was so bloody aroused. He tried to will his hand forward to touch the intercom. Stop this. Get Sheila in here. His hand wasn't listening to his brain any longer. He was captivated by Cassandra's husky voice. "Do you want to know more? Or should we stop this?" she asked innocently. He opened his eyes. She'd shifted again. She was standing closer in front of his desk, her breasts inviting him, drawing his full attention. She smiled at him and slowly, deliberately unbuttoned her shorts. She hooked her fingers into the waistband and slowly pushed them over her hips and down her long legs. Her deep blue hynotizing eyes still locked on his. She stepped out of the shorts towards the desk, placed her hands on the edge, and leaned towards him. Completely nude. The only coherent thought running through his head was that she was a real blonde. This couldn't possibly be happening.



"C-Cassandra. You have to stop this. You can't do this. Not in here. You have to get dressed." "You don't like my body? Why should we be ashamed of our bodies? I'm not." He could see that. She didn't have a trace of self-consciousness. She seemed almost happy to be romping around nude in front of him. "I swear. Cassandra. If you don't stop this, I will get someone else in here to stop this. Please. Get dressed, go sit down, and we'll continue." She pouted for a moment, her full lower lip quivering, her eyes silently pleading. She eventually turned, presenting a beautiful backside, and strutted back to her chair. She settled into it, making no move to gather her discarded clothing. No move to cover herself at all. Her face had lost the pout and she stared at him almost defiantly. "Clothes," he motioned at her garments on the floor. "I prefer not wearing them. I'll tell you what you want to know if you just let me stay here like this. Nobody has to know. I won't come on to you if you don't want me. All you have to do is tell me that you don't want me. Please let me keep them off? I'm just more comfortable this way. Okay?" He would lose his license. He just knew it. May as well just take the useless diploma off his wall and light a match under it now. "Tell me about Joyce." "You don't believe me. You don't believe that we had sex. Do you?" "I think that it will help me understand you if you tell me what you think happened between you." "You just want to hear me tell you what we did. Even if it's a twisted fantasy of mine. You think it will help you understand me?" She paused for a second, thinking. "You think it will turn you on." "Does it matter?"



"To you it does. Will it turn you on to hear about two women having sex? Two women tying each other up? Spanking each other? I'll tell you gladly if it will turn you on. I want you turned on. Are you jealous of Joyce? She's had me and you haven't. Yet." "Cassandra, will you please dress yourself?" "Not yet. After we fuck. I'll get dressed after you screw me. You want to hear about Joyce? It isn't a fantasy," she was barely whispering but he could make out her words just fine. "Tell me about Joyce." He had resigned himself to her game. It couldn't hurt to continue; she was already nude and unlikely to get dressed without outside intervention. Not like he'd ever be speaking to any other patients again. Maybe this would tell him something about this naked enigma in front of him. Perhaps he could still help her. "I was stretched out on her desk. Bound with her scarves. Just as you are imagining me stretched out on your desk. Only you want me in chains, something harsher. I like harsher, by the way. And I was so turned on. And so was she. She locked her door, drew the drapes. She stripped, too. Except she left her shoes on. God, she was beautiful. She hit me with her hand. It felt so good. Almost like the warmth you get from hot chocolate after skating all day. And she liked it. I could tell. It was in her eyes. She spanked me. My breasts. They hurt for a while, but nothing major. I've been hurt worse. I didn't even cry. She couldn't hit me as hard as you could." She paused, watching him. His eyes closed, seeing the images. "Then she let me go. Untied me. We used our tongues on each other. Sixty-nined in front of her desk. Her on top. God. It felt so good. She climaxed twice. Quite a woman. You'd have liked her. You should really try to get in her pants. She'd let you. Might take a while and a bit of effort on your part, but you could have her. The hardest part will be getting past the respect she has for you. She might even let you tie her up as well." He opened his eyes. Her right hand was slowly stroking her left nipple. Her face was flushed, her left hand played with her blonde curls between her legs, her legs slightly parted. She presented a tantalizing view and she was fully aware of it.



"Cassandra. You have to stop this." "I thought you wanted to hear about me and Joyce. I'm just doing what you wanted." "I want to know why you came up with that fantasy." "And why I'm coming on to you?" "Yes." "I'm doing it because Sarah likes you. Simple. And I know you want me. No reason you can't have me." "Can I talk to Sarah, please?" His breathing was ragged. He was having trouble concentrating. He had to clear his head. Talk to Sarah. Or had to get away from the sight of her. He was going to do something he'd regret. Like not forcing her to get dressed. Like not stopping this crazy session. Like not calling Sheila well before this got out of hand. Like still not calling Sheila, even though it had gotten way out of hand. "If you fuck me, she'll come back." "I have to get a drink of water, Cassandra. Do you want anything?" He had to get out of this room. Away from her. Just for a moment. "I just want you," she purred. He gathered his strength. He tried to tear his eyes away from her as he rose to his feet. "I'll be back in a second. Alright? You stay there. And get dressed." "Yes, sir." He strode purposefully to the door and slipped through. Sheila looked up at him quizzically. She was a psych major at the local university. She knew that there was no way he should have left that room, leaving a patient alone. Not during a session. She watched him as he poured a glass of water from the cooler. "Are you alright? You looked flushed," Sheila asked quietly. Concerned. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (14 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:02 AM


"I'm fine. Just a little thristy." Sheila shook her head and bent back to her computer filing, not willing to question her employer further. Patient confidentiality, and all. She thought it was a bit odd that he hadn't just buzzed her and gotten her to bring in refreshments like normal. After all, that's what she was paid to do. He slipped back into the room leaving Sheila to wonder to herself. Any explanations that Sheila concocted would be so far from the truth that it was almost comical. Sarah was still nude, idly playing with her bare breasts. An excited flush had spread across her cheeks. "I missed you," she whispered. He returned to behind his desk. "I thought I asked you to get dressed." "What are you, my father?" she started to get flustered. She visibly fought her emotions under control and rose again to her feet. "I'm not your father," he responded automatically. A faint look of confusion crossed her features and then vanished. "I just want you to get dressed. For both our sakes." "And I just want to fuck you. For both our sakes. I'll get dressed afterwards. I want you. Don't you want me?" She threw her bare breasts out towards him again. He tried to avert his eyes, but failed. "You can have me any way you want me. Doggie style? Straight? Tied up? My ass? I can give you a blowjob you'd never forget. Better than your wife. I swallow. Your wife ever let you tie her up?" "Cassandra. Why are you doing this?" "Joyce has a tattoo, you know," she remarked quietly. She stepped around the corner of the desk, her bare feet light and silent on the carpet. "She does?" He knew Joyce had a tattoo. At some function, he'd remarked on it. She'd been wearing a rather low cut evening gown and the tip of the tattoo had just cleared her neck line. It was a small



panther, low on her right breast, though he'd only seen the nose of it. It had been barely visible and only because of the daring dress she'd worn. He'd been surprised that she had a tattoo at all. She didn't seem the type. She had seemed very embarrassed about it, especially considering its location and that he'd noticed it. She'd gotten it one night as an undergraduate, after a party, she'd explained. "A small black panther. I think you know where." He swallowed. How the hell could she know that? Unless ... "Oh my God," he whispered, suddenly frightened, realizing the implications. She was right beside him. Her female scent and arousal washed over him in waves. He closed his eyes again, breathing her. His arousal mirrored her arousal, whether he wanted it to or not. His fright at her revelations simply melted into his deep arousal. She sat up on his desk and he pushed himself back. Hard. His chair ended up against the window. He tried to clear his spinning mind. He had to get as much distance between them as he could. "Joyce was fun, but you'll be better. I think," she whispered seductively. "You and I both know that this is going to happen sooner or later. Why are you fighting me? You gay? I doubt it. I can usually see those things. Don't you like me?" "Cassandra. You have to stop this. Get dressed. We'll finish this tomorrow. Please?" "Begging me? I thought I was begging you. Master?" Her eyes shone playfully. "I can be your slave, if you want." She inched her legs up onto the desk. Carefully, she watched his eyes, ensuring that he was entranced by her. Like he could tear his eyes away. She curled herself up on his blotter, watching him like a lioness. "Come here," she spoke softly but commandingly. Despite himself, he found himself moving forward towards her. He struggled with his own impulses. He was married, for chrissakes. He http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (16 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:02 AM


couldn't do this. Wrong. Even if he couldn't remember the way to handle it, he did remember the instructor's warnings. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. No can do. License revoked. And he was obviously handling this wrong. Completely out of control. There was the beautiful naked Siren perched on his desk to prove his incredible incompetence. "Cassandra. We are going to stop this. Now. Get off my desk. Get dressed." "You sound like my father. I just want to make you feel good. You can make me feel good. What's wrong with that? Just pretend I'm a younger version of your wife. She doesn't have to know. Nobody has to know. Just you and I. Our little secret," she was whispering again. She bent to kiss him as he neared her. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slapped her. Her face rocked back onto her shoulder. She cried out in pain. Her hands flew to her face, rubbing at her stung cheek. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He was almost sure that his instructors had never mentioned slapping a patient as an option for therapy. Not even in the advanced classes. A small, higher voice emerged from her throat. "Daddy?" He was dumbstruck that he'd slapped her. Knowing his license was long gone, he moved back again, rolling the chair frantically back towards the window, watching her. He couldn't quite believe what was happening. She had her eyes closed. A frightened look on her face replaced the wanton lust from seconds before. "Daddy? Please? I don't want to tonight. Please?" Her breathing was becoming laboured. "I. I don't like him. Please? Not the ropes. Oh God. Please? I. I'll do it. You don't need to tie me up. Nooooo!" She screamed. "Oh God. No more. It hurts. I'll do him. I'll suck him. I'll behave. I'll obey. I'll be good. Please. Not the belt. Not there. Oh God. No. Please. Daddy? Please no. It hurts." He was in shock. Psychology courses can't prepare you for this. No way. Not ever. Nothing can ever prepare you for this. "Sarah?" he spoke gently to the naked girl sitting on his desk. The girl finally opened her eyes, but she still wasn't seeing. "Please?" she begged, still in the higher, younger voice. He had no idea what daemons she was fighting. What she was seeing. What she



was even begging for. She looked down at herself. "Oh God. Not again." The voice older. Softer. Sarah. "What have I done?" "Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all." "I. Where are my clothes? I've done it again. Haven't I?" Her hands reached to cover herself, across her bare breasts. She pressed her thighs together tightly. "Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet. And you aren't going to either. You're safe here." After some of the images that he knew were still in his head, he doubted the truthfulness of that reassurance. Her free hand traced up to her face, rubbing at the hand print across her left cheek. Tears coursed down her face. Her mouth formed the word soundlessly, as though calling an invisible person, "Cassandra". The girl stretched out again. She was back in control. The transformation stunned him. Her long bare legs tantalized him as she stretched herself back out on his desk, pulling her hands away from her breasts, displaying herself again for him. She knocked his pens down to the floor with her outstretched legs. He remained safely pushed back from her near the window. Her fingers still traced down her reddened cheek. She looked at him. "See? I told you that you could hit me. That you wanted to." Her hand dropped back between her legs. She moaned slightly as her fingers found her lower lips, lightly stroking herself. "You liked it, didn't you? I did." She offered her other cheek. "You can hit me again if you like. Harder if you want. I don't mind." "Cassandra?" "Who else?" "Let me talk to Sarah." "I don't think so. I may have been out of it for a second there, but I know we haven't done the wild thing. You're still dressed. I want to see you naked. I want to fuck you. I'm naked. You should be too. Please? For me?" "I need to talk to Sarah." Cassandra was getting in the way here. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Cassandra.html (18 of 20)8/15/2005 12:14:02 AM


"No. I want you first." "I thought Sarah wanted me." "She does. She just doesn't want to admit it." "Sarah needs me. To talk with. To help her. Not anything else." It was getting easier to resist this gorgeous creature. He'd seen her soul. However briefly, he'd seen the hurt, scared, little girl buried within her. He consciously tried to ignore her scent, her lithe, adult body, her irresistable sexuality. There was a little girl in there, somewhere. "Says you. I didn't ask for your help." Her face became a bit more distant. An inner struggle was in progress just below the surface. "What did your father do to you, Cassandra?" "My father?" she paled a bit. "Don't you want me? Please? I don't want to talk about him. I just want you." He struggled with himself, knowing that he had to stop this. He'd already slapped her, stepped way too far over the line. But he was so close, yet so damn far. "Your father." "I loved my father." "Did you?" Her face began to collapse again. A single tear coursed down her cheek. He couldn't tell who was going to surface. Still wasn't sure even as she spoke again in a quiet whisper. "It would have been so much easier to fuck you." She closed her eyes, tears falling helplessly down her pale cheeks. She hung her head almost looking like a defenseless, helpless, little girl sitting up on his desk. Defeated. She took a deep breath, looked at him with her pleading eyes, and then gently touched the intercom button with her bare toes.


Rain - Crimson Dragon

Rain © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Rain (FF, light/first bd, rom, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - February 1998 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== The rain poured down, hammering against the roof making a sound like a million small needles being dropped against a hardwood floor. Shattering the silence. Almost musical. Katrina let the leather chair recline behind her, closing her blue eyes. Listening to the incessant rain drumming overhead. She let herself slide further into relaxation. Her fingers rested on the stereo remote, balanced precariously on her bare thigh. Half of her wanted to listen to soft music. The other half just wanted to listen to the rain. The stereo remained silent. She took another sip of the Chardonnay. Letting the wine melt into her senses. She sighed. Tonight she had to be honest. With herself. With her lover. It was beyond the time for it. She sipped from the champagne flute again, listening to the rain. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (1 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


Waiting. The tension from the week flowing out of her body. The insane meetings. The arguments. The office politics. The general level of incompetence in the office. She caught herself before her blood pressure began to boil off the scale. She was up north, she gently reminded herself. No office. No idiots. Just her and the soft rain. She thought she heard the sound of tires on gravel over the drumming of the rain. She uncurled herself and rose from the comfortable nest she'd created in the chair. She walked slowly to the window, her bare feet pattering across the old floorboards. She parted the heavy curtains and glanced out at the driveway. More of a set of tracks through the trees than a driveway, if the truth be told. The rain was making constant concentric ripples in the puddles. The sky was low and gray; the afternoon sun dimmed by the intervening clouds. Just her beat up blue Chevy in the drive. Parked under the old oak. She could almost hear the heavier drops of water sliding off the oak leaves and crashing down onto the blue monster. She had slept in her car enough to know that sound. Raindrops on metal. She stepped back and let the curtains fall, muting the light still further inside. She felt warm and dry after her glance at the outside world. She returned slowly to her chair nest and curled her long legs back underneath her. She took another sip of the wine and let her head fall back against the leather. Breathing in the scent of leather mixed with red wine. She sighed again and continued to listen to the rain. Katrina woke with a start. A sound. Something had awakened her suddenly. But she just couldn't quite tell what it was. Her heart hammering as though she had just run a marathon, she listened intently for the slightest sound. Nothing. She began to relax again. Probably just a chipmunk. She noticed that the light had dimmed further in the side room where she had curled herself. Either it had gotten more gloomy outside, or the afternoon had slipped into evening. She glanced at the clock on the stereo. Still early afternoon. She hadn't slept long. The soft rain had increased to a downpour. With an act of will, she managed to calm her heart; she relaxed again with an effort, listening again to the rain against the roof. "How's my beautiful sleepyhead?" a soft voice inquired behind her.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (2 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


Katrina jumped. She consciously bit her lip to control her panic. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to slowly turn her head, refusing to whip around like a frightened bunny. "Leanne? You devil. You just about scared the crap out of me. When did you get here?" Leanne laughed. Her musical voice lighting up the room. "Just a few moments ago. I thought I'd woken you with the door." Leanne walked into the room. Holding her own champagne flute. She settled herself into the sofa opposite Katrina. "You did. I was wondering what woke me up. Thought it was a chipmunk." "An awfully good looking chipmunk, if I do say so myself. Why were you sleeping? In the middle of the afternoon? Power nap?" "Kind of. The rain put me to sleep, I think. You're late." "Traffic was a bitch." Katrina nodded. At this time of day it certainly would be; she was glad she'd been able to arrive early. Leanne stretched herself out on the sofa. She'd kicked off her shoes at the door and she drew her legs up onto the sofa, leaning back. Like Katrina, she was wearing cutoff jeans and a t-shirt. Barefoot. Lounging wear. She stretched her bare legs and arms. She yawned. "So, Kat. What we gonna do this weekend? Huh?" There was an unmistakable twinkle in Leanne's brown eyes. "Relax." "I guess. Don't we always? And it is raining." A smile of conspiracy crept across Leanne's lips. The innuendo not lost on Katrina. Katrina took a deep breath and took a long sip of the wine. Gathering her courage. "Lee?"



"What's up?" The other woman looked up at Katrina sleepily from the sofa. "We need to talk." Leanne sat up. Dropping her bare feet to the floor. Looking intently at Katrina. The first signs of worry crossing her features. "'bout what?" "I don't really know how to begin here." "Oh God. This isn't it, is it? You're leaving me? Aren't you? I hate this part. The talk." Katrina managed a small laugh. Her stomach was in knots. And she felt like a high school girl about to get her first kiss. "No, sweetheart. I'm not leaving you." Leanne visibly relaxed. "What is it then? Don't keep me hanging." Katrina took another sip of her wine. Tried to calm her nerves. "Leanne. I'm just afraid that you are going to want to leave me after we talk." It was Leanne's turn to laugh. "What did you do? Murder someone? I'm sure he deserved it. Come on Kat. You can tell me anything. Anything except that you are leaving me. If you are ever going to do that, just do it. Don't tell me." Leanne's face became more sober. Katrina tried to fight down the butterflies that had invaded her insides. Leanne waited patiently, drawing small circles on the floorboards with her toes. "It's about me, Lee," Katrina finally began. "You? I know all about you." "Not everything." "What? You were straight once? I knew that. What else could it be. You are secretly a man, and I haven't found out yet? I know you aren't married." A mischievous twinkle had settled into her eyes. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (4 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


Katrina sighed. There just wasn't any easy way to do this. Leanne was so far out that Katrina almost wanted to cry. This had very little to do with her current sexual orientation. She was comfortable with that part of her life. And with Leanne. And to the best of her memory she'd never even wished she'd been a male. Much less actually been one. Married? Ha. That didn't even require a second thought. "I. I'm just embarrassed a bit. That's all." "Embarrassed about me?" "No. No. Come on, Lee, you know that I love you." Leanne smiled at that. "Sweety, I love you too. You know that you can tell me anything. Listen. I think I'm crowding you. Let me go unpack and either you can come and tell me when you are ready, or you can tell me when I come back. Or you can tell me tomorrow. Or you can not tell me at all. Whatever. I can wait. No rush. We have all weekend. Last thing I want to do is stress you out. You get enough of that crap at work." Leanne crossed the room and kissed Katrina's forehead gently before making her way back out to the front door. Katrina's breathing finally slowed and her heart began to beat normally again with the respite. She could hear Leanne puttering around in the bedroom, hanging up clothes, and throwing her toiletries in the bathroom. A big mess, if Katrina knew Leanne, which she did. She cringed at how the bedroom and bathroom were going to look when Leanne was done 'unpacking'. God. She couldn't lose Lee. She'd just found her. Didn't want to scare her off. She couldn't face losing her. She seriously reconsidered telling her at all. She tensed her muscles and let them relax. She had to tell her. Who was she fooling? She'd want it eventually. Better get it over with now, and if Leanne left, maybe it was for the best. Her whole life had been for the best. She hated the best. Becoming a lawyer. Hating it. But it had been for the best. Switching, thinking management was more for her. That hadn't worked. Hating it. Still hating it. But it was for the best, wasn't it? Dating Harvey. That had been for the best, too. Kept her mother quiet. At least for a



while. Until the bastard had cheated on her. And now Leanne. She really was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And now she had to screw it all up. For the best. She opened her eyes. While the thoughts had been running through her head, she realized that she had been crying. Softly. The tears slowly crawling down her cheeks. Leanne was sitting back on the sofa. A terrible sadness reflected in her face. Katrina hadn't even heard her pad back into the room. The rain masking the sound of her bare feet. Leanne spoke tenderly, "Kat? I can't stand to see you like this. Please? I'll understand. Whatever it is." "I know." Katrina struggled with the tears and managed to slow them. Her chin quivered, but she closed her eyes and managed to stop that as well. She'd made such a mess of her life. Leanne was the only good thing left. And she was about to mess that up too. She so much didn't want to lose her. Katrina swallowed hard and opened her eyes again. She glanced at Leanne. She wasn't being fair to her. She had to tell her now. One way or the other. She'd started it, she had to finish it. For better or for worse. She drew in a deep breath. "Lee?" "Uh-huh?" "Have. Have you ever heard of ... of ... B&D?" Leanne's forehead wrinkled. "B&D? Black and Decker? The tools?" Completely confused. Katrina took another deep breath. "Bondage. And Discipline. B&D." Leanne looked completely confused. "Of course. Honey? Is this about sex? All this crying?" Katrina just nodded. Surprised that Leanne had even heard of it. Even knew it had to do with sex. Leanne rose off the sofa and padded over to Katrina. She knelt in front of her. Her arms resting easily on Katrina's bare knees.



Leanne spoke softly. "Kat? Sweety? You don't have to be embarrassed about sex. Least of all with me. If there is ever a problem, we'll work it out. Together. What about bondage? And discipline? What's up?" "What do you know about it?" "I've read that some people enjoy it. You know. Being tied up. Restrained. Pain. That sort of thing." "Have. Have you ever ..." Leanne shook her head. "You?" "Not really." "But you want to?" The tears began again. Katrina tried to stifled them, but couldn't. She just mutely nodded. Couldn't speak. She knew her face was beet red. Struggling to hold back the tears. Leanne smiled at her. "Kat? Baby? I've never done it. At all. But you know that I'd be willing to try anything with you." She gently wiped at Katrina's tears. "Come on, honey. You don't have to cry. Honest." "You don't think I'm weird for wanting to try it?" "Hell no. Did you think I was weird when I wanted to make love to you the first time? Had you ever made love to a girl before that? Most of the world probably thinks that's weird. But I still told you. Don't be silly." "You aren't going to leave me?" "Of course not. I thought I told you not to be silly." Leanne rose up on her knees and gave Katrina a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Let me get you more of that wine and we'll talk. You had me frightened there for a moment." Katrina watched Leanne as she scrambled to her feet and headed off to the kitchen. She returned moments later with two fresh glasses of Chardonnay. Katrina gratefully sipped at hers. Leanne sat demurely



on the sofa, raising her own glass to her lips. "So. This weekend is going to be interesting huh?" Katrina was having trouble meeting her eyes, but the butterflies were gone. Leanne was still here. She hadn't stormed out in disgust. She hadn't freaked. The waterworks in her eyes had at least turned themselves off for the time being as well. "Come on Kat. Talk to me." "I. I don't know what to say." "How about if you tell me what you want? How's that?" "I. Can't." Leanne actually laughed. "You can't? You've gone this far. May as well continue. I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere. Relax. You can tell me." "I. Don't." "How about if I start? The most obvious question. I'm not really up on these things. Do you want me to tie you up? Or do you want to tie me up?" Katrina's eyes widened. She hadn't even considered that she could tie Leanne up. Or that Leanne would be understanding of the possibility. It was pretty obvious that this hadn't dominated Leanne's private fantasy world like it had hers for the last ten years. Katrina swallowed heavily. "I was. Actually. Thinking more of someone tying me up," she managed to say haltingly. "Kat? I can do that for you. Honestly. I'd let you tie me up too. I'd even let you hurt me if you wanted. As long as there weren't any lasting marks, and you stopped if it hurt too much." Katrina's eyes widened again. "I. I really hadn't thought of tying you up. I'm not really into pain or anything. I don't think I am anyway. I. I don't think I could hurt you. Not intentionally." "That's good, sweety. I'm not so sure I could have hurt you, either. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (8 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


Even if you wanted it. I would have tried, but that might have been hard for me. But I can tie you up. That's easy enough." Katrina lapsed into silence. Quietly lost in her own thoughts. Not quite believing that Leanne was still sitting across from her. Not angry. Not disgusted. Understanding. Even making suggestions. Just Leanne. God, did she love her. "Honey? You alright?" Katrina nodded. "I'm sorry." "'bout what?" "I don't know. Because of all this. I should never have told you." "Sweetheart. I'm glad you told me. If you hadn't, how would I ever have known?" "Nobody else knows. I've always made out okay." "See. I'm even honoured. Honoured that you want to do this with me. This takes an awful lot of trust. Kat. Sweety. It's not weird. At least I don't think so. Might even be fun. For both of us." "I even brought some rope and handcuffs." "You're kidding." Katrina shook her head. "You want to try them out? Now?" Leanne asked gently. Katrina gasped. Not sure she was quite ready for this yet. Still getting used to the idea that she'd finally told someone. And that Leanne was still here. But how she wanted it. Somewhere deep inside her. She shook her head. Not quite yet. "How about you go get them, and we'll look at what you brought." Katrina lifted herself out of her chair and walked back to the bedroom. Almost in a daze. When she stepped into the bedroom, she smiled. A mess. As she had known it would be. Leanne's clothes tossed carelessly around. Over chairs. Even over the door. On the



dresser. Leanne just had never quite understood drawers. Katrina opened her own suitcase and pulled out her recent acquisitions. A couple of small coils of soft rope bought from the hardware store. And two pairs of shiny new handcuffs. Never worn. Bought last week, amidst furious blushing, from the adult outlet in the suburbs where nobody knew her. She cradled the equipment in her arms and padded back out to the stereo room. Leanne had reclined back on the sofa and held out her hands. Katrina, blushing a bit, handed the rope and cuffs to Leanne. Leanne turned them over in her small hands and smiled. Katrina returned to her chair. "You want me to put these on you?" "Yes. I think so." "You do. I can see it in your eyes. How?" "Outside." "Outside?" "There isn't anyone for miles and miles. I'll be safe. You'll be there." "Outside?" "I think so." "It's pouring rain." "I know. We can do it tomorrow, if you want. If it stops raining." Leanne thought about it. "I don't mind getting a little wet. Who cares? It's not an electrical storm. Just warm rain. Lots of light left in the afternoon." Katrina looked down at her bare toes. Slowly she nodded. She had to try this or something inside of her was going to snap. She was sure of it. Otherwise, why risk bringing it up with Leanne in the first place. She felt it. A burning need in her. Something she wanted almost desperately. Had wanted for a long, long time. The butterflies were back. She leaned her head back into the chair again. Listening to the rain. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (10 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


She rose to her feet. Leanne following. Without a word, Katrina led them out to the back kitchen door. She swallowed the rest of her wine and put the glass down on the countertop. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the rain. She immediately felt the droplets from above soaking her. Like a cool shower. In her clothes. She stopped. Leanne almost bumped into her. She breathed in. The wet forest providing the sweetest fragrance. The rain running down her face. Her bare feet feeling the warm, wet earth beneath her. The mud squishing up between her bare toes. She almost felt like running. Like screaming. She instinctively threw up her arms towards the heavens and turned. Laughing like a little girl. Relief flooding her senses. Leanne stepped back and smiled at her friend. Somehow feeling some of the freedom as if by osmosis. Katrina stopped her spinning, facing Leanne. She stepped forward, kissing her girlfriend full on the lips. Feeling the rain wash over her. Hugging her close. Feeling the softness of her body pressing against her. Her breasts touching her friends. The familiar tingle of the contact, even through the wet fabric. Feeling Leanne returning the embrace. Laughing. They reluctantly parted. Katrina smiled and pointed to a small oak tree. She ran over to it. Measuring it with her eyes. It stood perhaps two strides from the forest edge into the cabin clearing. She could easily get her arms around its girth. She could feel its roots beneath her bare feet. She pressed her back up against it. Feeling the bark through her t-shirt. She glanced down at herself. She was almost shivering in excitement. Her nipples erect beneath the thin material. Leanne walked up to her. "Here?" "I think so. It seems right somehow." "You gonna keep your clothes on?" Katrina giggled and reached for the bottom of her shirt. Pulled it in one swift motion over her head. She just let the soaked garment fall to the grass. She slipped the shorts down her legs and kicked them away carelessly. She reached behind her and popped the clasps



on her bra, sighing as the uncomfortable garment fell away. She hooked her panties and they soon joined the shorts. The rain cascaded down her nude form. She twirled for Leanne. Her girlfriend watching in amusement and awe. No matter how many times she saw this firm body undress in front of her, she could feel that same tingle as the first time. That tingle running slowly from her nipples to the center of her being. Faintly aroused just at the sight of her. The girl in front of her was glorious in her nudity. High firm breasts. Long brunette hair, soaked, falling down her back, nearly to her waist. Her hips flared, leading into a pair of sleek athletic legs. God, she wanted to touch her. Wanted to lick the rain from every inch of her. "Kat? How do you want this?" Leanne actually had to tear her gaze away from the naked girl and raise her voice over the sound of the rain. Katrina stepped back towards the tree. Pressing her now bare back against the rough bark. She turned to face the small lake. She held her wrists behind the tree. Shuddering. Leanne took a deep breath. "Okay. If anything is too tight, let me know. I don't really know what I'm doing here." Katrina shivered as she felt the handcuffs close around her wrists behind the tree. She closed her eyes. She couldn't move away from the tree until Leanne unlocked the cuffs. The keys were in Leanne's pocket. The butterflies returned. She was losing her control. She pulled against the cuffs. Trying to slip her wet wrists through the steel. No way. She was essentially a part of this tree until she was let out. She wondered if anyone would ever guess that she had been here. Naked. Tied to this tree. She wondered if the tree would remember her after she was gone. Leanne whispered in her ear. "You alright, sweety?" Katrina just nodded. Hadn't been better in a long long time. She hardly even felt the rope as it wound around her and the tree. Leanne fumbled with the ropes, but managed to tie the rope just above and just below Katrina's bare breasts. Holding her back securely to the bark. The knot at the back of the tree was far from secure, but Katrina couldn't reach it. It would hold. Leanne shrugged. If they were going to be doing this, she'd learn to tie better knots. She could do that. For Katrina, she could. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (12 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


Leanne knelt onto the wet earth and began to wrap Katrina's ankles with rope. "Leanne?" The kneeling girl looked up at her bound friend. "Can you tie them apart? Spread me?" "If you want." Katrina nodded. Using separate pieces of rope, Leanne wrapped each ankle and tied them off to other trees. Spreading Katrina's unresisting legs apart about twice shoulder width. Exposing her. She watched as Katrina flushed. Pulled against the ropes. Not used to the sensations of being so exposed. Out in the open. Restrained. "You sure you are okay?" "Never better. Thank-you." Leanne smiled. "You should have told me earlier." Her hands stole to the pair of wet breasts in front of her, tracing along the bindings. Katrina closed her eyes and just absorbed the light touches. Reacting to the ropes, the touches, her fantasy. She felt Leanne's mouth close to her own. Their lips met. They kissed, like old lovers. Secure in each other. She felt Leanne step back and opened her eyes. She felt her breathing quicken as she watched Leanne pull her top over her head. She could see Leanne's nipples, hard and erect through the now transparent fabric of her bra. The bra fell away, landing in a tree somewhere. The shorts and panties didn't last much longer. Her lips were ruby red, and Katrina could see that her breathing was as heavy as her own. She pulled against her bonds, wanting to go to Leanne. Touch her. Couldn't. Leanne sank to her knees in front of the oak, her pretty face mere centimeters from Katrina's lips. She studied the woman. Could smell her arousal faintly over the smell of the forest and the rain. She smiled up at the bound girl. She'd never get tired of being here. Between her lover's legs.



"Please?" Katrina murmured. She suddenly felt the soft motion of Leanne's tongue as it teased her. Slipping inside for a moment, then withdrawing. Teasing her. Licking. Softly biting her lips. Teasing fingers running up and down her legs, her stomach. Teasing her wet skin. Forcing the bound girl to gasp. Katrina strained at her bonds. Wanting so much more. Finally, Leanne let her tongue dip inside. And began to massage Katrina's swollen clit in the way that she knew she loved. Her slender fingers touching and teasing Katrina. Plunging inside. Pumping. Finding her rhythm. Katrina exploded. Pulling against her cuffs. Against the ropes on her ankles. Breasts heaving. Crying out in her climax, startling the forest creatures. Her cries echoing across the still waters of the lake, mingling with the soft patter of the rain. Leanne rose to her feet. Kissed Katrina on the mouth as the girl came down from her orgasm. Katrina could taste herself on Leanne's lips. Her tears mixing with the rain. She couldn't help the tears, but they weren't tears of frustration and sadness as they normally were. Her bare body relaxed. Leanne fingered the ropes still encircling her friend. "Leave me in them? Please?" Leanne nodded. "Kat, honey? I'm going to go in. Have a shower. Okay?" Katrina smiled. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." "Listen. If you need me. Holler. I'll hear you in the cabin. It looks like it's clearing over there. The rain should stop soon." "Don't play with the shower. I'll take care of you later. I promise." Leanne kissed Katrina again on the lips. "It's okay if you don't want to." "Of course I will. Don't be dopey." Leanne smiled again and turned, walking back towards the cabin, not http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Rain.html (14 of 16)8/15/2005 12:14:20 AM


bothering about her clothing still strewn about the clearing. Katrina watched over her shoulder until Leanne disappeared into the kitchen. She then turned back to the lake and just gazed out at the scenery. The rain, beginning to lessen, still ran through her hair and over her body. Stinging her eyes. She felt her helplessness as she realized that she couldn't even wipe the rain from her face. Her hands rattled the steel holding her. She didn't care, relishing the feel of the water as it cascaded over her nudity. She relaxed in her restraints. Loving the feel of the ropes against her wet skin. Absorbing the feelings of vulnerability that she had never quite experienced up until today. Her senses alive. Feeling. Smelling. Tasting. Hearing. It seemed for the very first time, she felt alive. She closed her eyes, feeling the cooler evening air wash over her wet bare body. Her nipples tightened involuntarily in the cooler air. She felt the rain slacken and eventually stop. She listened to the rain falling from the trees. Slowly. The chirping of the crickets around her. Feeling the sudden shock of a large raindrop hitting her shoulder, having rolled off the damp leaves above her. She squirmed in her restraints. Feeling the helplessness as she tried to close her legs and simply couldn't. Unable to free herself. She sighed. She waited patiently for the sun to retreat below the horizon on the other side of the lake. The sunset was spectacular. Worth the wait. She had never experienced anything quite like it. The sunset after the rain. Leanne had wandered out to see if she was alright. She sat quietly in the grass beside Katrina, still nude herself, and shared the sunset with her. Finally just gathering up the discarded clothing and retreating back into the cabin, leaving Katrina to herself. Experiencing the settling of the dark. The stars winking out of the deep blackness overhead. She felt clean. The world seemed clean. Almost like a better place. At peace. She sighed. Standing there. The ropes holding her. Experiencing the night. She had no way of telling how long she had been a part of the forest. The stars slowly rotated over her head. The half moon was illuminating the clearing with an ethereal light as she felt a soft pair of lips touch her ear. She shivered and turned her head, not having heard Leanne approach. Leanne still hadn't bothered with clothing. Neither woman spoke. The steel around



her wrists loosened. Fell free. The ropes slackened and fell from around her torso, scratching gently across her breasts. Then her bare feet. Leanne led her, without breaking the silence, back into the cabin and the hot shower. Gently washing her and drying her. Guiding her back to the queen size bed they shared. Burying themselves into the covers. Katrina falling easily into Leanne's arms. Katrina was exhausted, almost asleep on her feet. She felt her eyes closing, feeling warm and safe. Knowing that she'd have to make this up to Leanne tomorrow. Looking forward to it. Leanne didn't seem to mind. Stroking Katrina's brown hair. Perhaps she had played in the shower after all. All Katrina wanted was the blissful peace of sleep. The clock on the bedside table displayed the time in big red numerals. Five minutes to three. AM. Her eyes closed once again. She felt herself falling. The soft fingers entangled in her clean hair and the soft breathing of the woman beside her, lulling her. The last thing she remembered before dropping into her relaxed sleep was the plaintive, eerie call of a lonely loon somewhere out on the lake. Calling its mate. And calling her.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes - Crimson Dragon

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact ======================================================================== Dancing With Tears In My Eyes (ff?) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright January 1998 Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) All Rights Reserved ======================================================================== She sat alone in her dorm room. She'd turned off all the lights, the darkness mirroring her heart. Her tiny room had just seemed so small. So claustrophobic. The darkness helped. Her mind allowing the illusion of a ballroom in the absence of light. Some sort of limitless expanse in which to lose herself. The small room had never bothered her before. Just tonight. She stretched herself out. Lying down on the single bed. Burying her head in her soft pillow, one leg bent at the knee. Her bare foot pointing to the low ceiling. She let her feelings wash over her. Jason. Jason had just left. They had sat together. Right here. On this bed. Her softly crying. Him. Speaking in hushed caring tones. Right here. After they'd made gentle love. She still hadn't bothered to get dressed, feeling the covers beneath her body. She could still sense his presence. His scent washing over her. He'd dressed and let himself out and she'd just roused herself enough to switch off the lights.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Dancing.html (1 of 12)8/15/2005 12:14:43 AM


He was sorry. She knew that he was. He'd found someone else. Someone more compatible. Someone that he thought that he loved. She felt the tears well up in her eyes again. He had never meant to hurt her. She believed that. In her heart. She struggled to control herself. Not wanting to cry again. She understood. They had never really committed to each other. Then why the hell did her heart ache so very much? Why did she suddenly feel so bereft? So lonely? She had known in her heart that this day was going to happen. She could sense it. That her feelings were so much stronger than his. But, as usual, she had ignored it. Letting herself get swept along. Letting her heart get torn in two again. She fought the tears again and won. She actually felt herself smile a bit at the small victory. She swallowed and turned over onto her back. Letting her arms fall out to the side, over the sides of the small bed. She discovered that it didn't matter if she closed her eyes or not. Crazy thoughts running through her head. Could I sleep with my eyes open if it was this dark? That was a Jason-type thought. She could almost feel his body moving with her. Knowing that she'd never feel it ever again. She savoured the memory. Still fighting back the tears. She reminded herself that she'd still see him. In calculus. She knew in her heart that she was just making it harder on herself. That she should try to let him go. Forget about him. Go on with her life. But she'd always had trouble letting go. Eventually, this pain would fade. She knew that. It always did. Time heals all wounds. Right? She drew her knees up. How long had he been gone? How long had she been lying here? She really didn't know. She almost didn't answer the phone when it rang. Not feeling like talking to anyone. Her mind played tricks on her. She was suddenly convinced that it was Jason. She fought the urge to pick it up. Talk to him. Convince him somehow that she still loved him. But it was over. Irrevocably. She knew that she couldn't do it. No matter how much her heart wanted her to. The phone rang insistently. She rolled over and put her small hand on the receiver. She took a deep breath. Ready to pick it up. She had no idea what to say to Jason. The phone fell silent. She sighed and rolled back over to her back. Resuming her former position. Her knees drawn up. Her arms just lying outstretched. She tried to think of something else. Something that didn't involve Jason. Wind. Simple wind. Wind that lifted the kites that Jason and http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Dancing.html (2 of 12)8/15/2005 12:14:43 AM


her had flown on one of their first dates. They hadn't had much money, but they bought the cheap kites at a hardware store. Like for a dollar each or something. They had chased each other to the park and laid side by side in the grass, laughing as the kites soared into the clear blue sky. God, she had loved him, even then. She shook her head. Tears falling uninvited again. She slowly sat up as she heard a soft knock at her door. Hugging her bare knees. Had to be Jason. She couldn't face him. Impossible. She curled herself up into a ball and was silent. The lights were off. He'd go away. "Karen?" It wasn't Jason's voice. For a second, her mind couldn't place the feminine tones. Not even realizing the voice was female at first, so convinced was she that it was going to be Jason. Then even muffled through the door, she recognized it. Kimberly. Her best friend. They'd roomed together in first year. She was really out of it. She didn't feel like seeing anyone right now. Even Kimberly. She just wanted to be left alone. But she knew she should at least answer the door. Another hesitant knock. She heard Kimberly call her name softly again and then give up. Her quiet footsteps beginning to move away from the door. Assuming that Karen wasn't in her room or perhaps was asleep. She suddenly felt the need for human contact. Understanding perhaps. Maybe just someone to cry on. She felt it deep in her breast. Lying here by herself in the dark, with her memories, just didn't seem right anymore. She swung her bare legs off the bed and fumbled for her bathrobe in the pitch darkness. The robe that she knew was carelessly draped across the back of her desk chair. She wrapped the huge terrycloth around herself, clinched the belt, and moved to the steel door. She opened it, poking her head out into the light. Blinking furiously. "Kim?" she softly called down the hall. Kimberly wasn't in view. Karen closed her eyes. She'd lost Kimberly as well. Seemed to be her night for losing people. Her head lowered in defeat. She should have answered when Kimberly was knocking. Her own stupid fault. She opened her eyes. Ready to return to her moping. She glanced up the hallway as she was closing the door. Kimberly was striding up



the hall carrying a thick textbook under her arm. Her eyes on the floor. Intent on thoughts of her own. "Kim!" the girl exclaimed. Her heart lifted just a touch. "Karen? I thought you weren't there. I was just heading over to the study lounge. Want to go? Were you asleep or something? I knocked. What's the matter?" Kimberly was speaking as she approached. Concern flashing across her features as she took in Karen's tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. Karen swung the heavy door open, wordlessly inviting her friend in and waiting for Kimberly to enter. "You were in the dark? Crying? Sweety. What's the matter?" Kimberly walked in and didn't turn on the light. She dropped her textbook on Karen's cluttered desk. Karen let the door shut quietly, plunging them into darkness. Kimberly didn't seem to mind. Sensing that Karen just wanted to be in the dark. Karen heard the bed squeak as Kimberly sat down, settling back against the headboard. A disembodied voice floated out from the vicinity of the bed. "It's Jason. Isn't it? You broke up with him." "Yes," Karen choked on the word. Not quite believing it herself. "I'm sorry. He. Was something special to you. Wasn't he?" Tears were running down Karen's face, uncontrollably. She couldn't even speak the words she felt. She sank to her knees. Finally letting it out. She lowered her forehead to the cold floor and just sobbed. Her whole body shaking. She cried, letting Kimberly hear her sobs where she couldn't even cry like this alone. Finally, it passed. She managed to rise to her knees. Her body still hitching with her feelings. She felt Kimberly's arms wind around her. She hadn't even realized that she had moved off the bed. She gratefully just melted into the embrace. Taking some comfort from the sympathy and closeness of a friend. Kimberly just rocked her for what seemed like an eternity. Patiently. Knowing what Karen was going through. What every girl goes through. The girl in her arms fighting thoughts of Jason. The thoughts making her cry quietly once in a while.



Finally, the thoughts, whatever they were, weren't capable of causing any more tears. She just smiled weakly in the dark. Cried herself out. For now. With a final sniffle, she squirmed out of Kimberly's arms. Kimberly released her friend and waited for her to speak. "I'm sorry," Karen apologized. "I was determined not to do that. You were going to study hall." "It's alright. Some things are more important than history. Trust me. You alright?" Karen nodded. And realized that Kimberly couldn't see her in the dark. "Yes. I guess," she answered verbally. "You know what you need?" "I need to have a hot bath and sleep. Like forever. Or until I stop hurting." "Well, you probably do, but you need to get out. You've had your cry. You should get out. Don't be alone. Not tonight. Don't mope around. Come to the BombShelter." The BombShelter was the campus pub. "Listen to some music. See people. I'll go with you. We can get a group together if you want." "I. I don't think I'm up to being with a group. Just you and me? I don't have to do anything? I can just sit there? No guys?" "Nothing you don't want to do. And I promise I won't let you go home with any guys. *That* definitely wouldn't be good for you." Karen could almost see her friend smiling in the dark. She heard Kimberly rise off her knees. "Come on. Get dressed." The desk light suddenly came on, blinding Karen. The girl threw her arm across her eyes. Softly grumbling about inconsiderate friends and lack of warnings. She slowly got to her bare feet. When her eyes had adjusted to the diffused light she glanced at Kimberly. She was standing by the door, leaning back on it, just watching Karen, arms crossed just under her breasts. Not surprised by the disheveled bathrobe Karen had thrown on.



She made to leave, her hand on the doorknob. Karen spoke. "You going to go like that?" Kimberly shrugged. She was wearing faded jeans and Waterloo sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a was wearing light makeup. "It's not like I'm going she remarked. "No guys. Remember? That goes for me

a University of ponytail. And she to pick up guys," too."

Her hand twisted the doorknob. "I'll wait for you out in the hall. Try not to take all night getting ready. 'kay?" "You don't have to leave." "I'm not leaving. Just giving you some privacy." "We slept in the same room for a full year. Don't worry about it." Karen dropped the bathrobe. She wasn't shy of her body. She'd even have opened the door nude if she hadn't thought that Jason might be around. It would have been easier than putting on the bathrobe in the dark. She hurriedly picked up her underwear from the floor and slipped it on. She'd worn some more risque lingerie tonight because of Jason. But she couldn't be bothered hunting around for fresh conventional stuff. The lacy bra and panties hadn't been worn all that long anyway. Kimberly raised her eyebrows. She had leaned back against the closed door again. A little uncomfortable at being in the small room while Karen changed. When they'd shared the room in first year, they had sort of turned their backs, given each other as much privacy as they could. Kimberly had appreciated it at the time. "No guys. I'm serious." Kimberly was taking note of the lingerie. "I know. I know. They were just what was handy. You said you wanted me to hurry. I don't even know if I have anything else clean." Karen pulled on a pair of wrinkled blue jeans. Pulling them up over her hips. She slipped a silk blouse off the chair, and buttoned it quickly over her bra. Tucking it into her jeans. She hunted around and found a pair of clean white ankle socks. She sat down on the bed and pulled them over her toes. Kimberly just watched quietly as Karen dressed. Karen slipped her feet into her running shoes and glanced at herself in the mirror. She squawked. "Oh my God. Look at me."



"You're fine." "You were going to let me go to the bar like this?" "You wouldn't have had any trouble with guys." Kimberly couldn't contain a grin. "Shit." Karen hurriedly brushed out her brunette hair, letting it just fall loose around her shoulders. "I'll forgo the make up. But I have to at least wash my face." Tear streaks were still evident down her cheeks and her eyes were a little red and puffy. She picked up her keys and purse and the two women stepped out into the hall. Karen pulled her door shut behind her and carefully locked it. As they passed the washroom at the end of the hall, she ducked in and scrubbed her face. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. Not bad. All things considered. Her thoughts flitted to Jason. She felt the tears brimming again. But she willed them back. She leaned on the sink and took some deep breaths. Kimberly was right. This would be good for her. Listening to some loud music. Drinking a beer or two. Seeing people. Better than lounging around in her dark room, not even bothering to dress and thinking of him. Distraction. That's what she needed. She pushed herself away and rejoined Kimberly in the hall. They linked arms and walked out into the warm spring night. They got a few odd looks as they walked across campus, their feet ringing on the bridge across the stream by the medical center. Karen found herself laughing at the absurdity of them walking arm in arm to the bar. Despite herself, she was having fun. Probably needing it. They turned into the Campus Center, releasing their arms as they approached the Bomber. They entered the noisy bar, showing their student cards as ID. Kimberly pointed out a table at the back and they moved towards it. They sat down on the uncomfortable chairs. The music was loud. Tunes from the early eighties. Frankie Goes to Hollywood. There was a ton of freshmen on the dance floor gyrating under the lights. A million voices raised, some drunkenly, shouting "Relax. Don't do it. When you want to COME!" over the speakers. Karen thought she recognized the tune. Kimberly leaned across the table. Shouting over the music. "What do you want to drink?" "Rickard's."



Kimberly nodded and got up. She made her way slowly towards the bar. Talking briefly to people that she recognized. Karen turned her attention back towards the dance floor. Watching the throng. She was surprised when someone touched her shoulder. Too soon for Kimberly to get back. She looked up. A young guy in a black leather engineering jacket. Class of '98. He almost seemed nervous. She smiled up at him. "Hello?" "Hi, I'm Thomas. Uh. This really isn't a pick up line. Honest. But you sorta looked lonely. I. I was wondering if you'd care to dance?" Whether it was a pick up line or not, she knew that she looked lonely. She felt lonely. She honestly had hoped that it wasn't showing. And she was surprised that this guy had been brave enough to ask her. She knew she was hardly looking her best. Perhaps he was just being nice. Her mind flashed back. This was how she'd met Jason. He'd asked her to dance. Only it was at Fed Hall. Not here. No preamble. No conversation. Just dancing. The music had dropped to a slower beat almost as soon as they'd gotten to the dance floor. They had just moved together. They had fit. They had talked later. For the whole night. Under the stars. Out by Village Two. She shook her head. Trying to clear it. Forget Jason. She knew that she wasn't going to succeed. No matter what. How was she ever going to forget him? He'd almost certainly forgotten her by now. She was tempted to get up. She wanted to dance. Kimberly would absolutely kill her. Murder her on the spot. She swallowed heavily. She motioned Thomas down, so she wouldn't have to shout over the music. "Thomas. You are really sweet. And I'd love to dance. Really. But, I just broke up with my boyfriend tonight. I'm sorry." Thomas nodded. Understanding in his eyes. "Maybe next time. Thanks anyway." He disappeared back into the crowd, seemingly not bothered by the rejection in the slightest. Kimberly slid into her seat, setting a pint of Rickard's Red in http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Dancing.html (8 of 12)8/15/2005 12:14:43 AM


front of Karen. Kimberly dropped her own onto a napkin in front of her. "Who was that? He was cute." "His name was Thomas. An engineer. Strike one." Kimberly smiled. "They aren't all bad, you know. But I'm glad you got rid of him." She raised her glass. "Just the girls." "Just the girls." Karen clicked her glass against Kimberly's. Karen downed half of hers. Kimberly was a little more restrained. "Hey. Whoa. I don't want to carry you home," Kimberly remarked over the music. "Don't worry. I only want the one." Kimberly nodded. Satisfied. Something by REM started up. What's the Frequency, Kenneth. Karen found her body unconsciously moving to the beat. She took another sip of the beer. Savouring the taste. It was something that Jason had taught her. Occasionally, try to taste things like you've never tasted them before. She was surprised at how she'd always taken the taste of some foods for granted. It was so much easier to simply gobble your food. There actually was an experience there, if you slowed down and really tasted the food. She had never really savoured something before. Something simple. Like a salad or French fries. She shook her head. Trying to forget. She took another big swallow of beer. Refusing to savour it. Another small victory. Kimberly was looking at her. Karen raised her eyebrows, knowing that Kimberly had caught her vacant faraway look. "Jason?" "Yeah." "Try to enjoy yourself. Forget about him." She knew full well that forgetting sometimes wasn't that simple. The music changed again. New Order. Bizarre Love Triangle. They really were on an eighties kick tonight. Karen listened to the music. Closing her eyes. Realizing the irony of the song title, but trying to ignore it. Losing herself in the driving beat.



She felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned and opened her eyes. Kimberly was shouting over the music. "You want to dance. Don't you? Might be good for you." Kimberly rose to her feet. Karen just nodded and followed. She took another swallow of her beer, nearly finishing it, and then let Kimberly lead her to the dance floor. Together they pushed their way into the middle of the undulating crowd. She hadn't eaten anything tonight. She barely remembered if she had even been hungry. Her stomach was still in knots. And the beer was touching her senses. She felt a little lightheaded. The flashing lights made Karen a little dizzy. The bass beat driving into her lungs. New Order took control of her body. She closed her eyes and let the music move her. Her body swinging to the music. Her feet lightly moving across the floor. Her arms swinging. Her hips circling. She felt almost out of control. She opened her eyes, seeing Kimberly gyrating, like her, to the music. In slow motion. Her pony tail tossing about the back of her neck. The strobe accentuating the effect. Karen's mind cleared. Thoughts of Jason fading as her breathing sped up and her body moved to the beat. She could feel her chest tightening. She felt like she was going to cry again. She felt her body stop moving as though she was outside of it, simply an observer. She stood still in the middle of the crowd of freshmen and seniors, as they moved around her. The strobe making the scene unreal. She shook her head. Kimberly was only a few steps away. Still moving to the last few bars of Bizarre Love Triangle. It was as though she'd lost her hearing. Time had slowed to a crawl. She'd somehow tuned out the blaring music. Kimberly danced around her to a beat that she simply could no longer hear. It all seemed so surreal. She didn't quite feel in control of herself. Her emotions. Her own body. Tears began to fall again. She couldn't recall ever having felt quite like this. Not drunk. Just. Melancholy. Empty somehow. She watched as the song ended. Still aware of the bass vibrations on her body, but deaf to the actual notes. The music merged into another song. She watched, detached as Kimberly moved towards her. The music suddenly crashed back into her senses with the change of song. She reached into her memory. High school dances. She was hearing the music. Odd notes. Vaguely familiar. Not as driving as http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Dancing.html (10 of 12)8/15/2005 12:14:43 AM


New Order. She struggled with herself. Finally, she pulled it out of the vault. She probably only had heard it, like once, during the eighties. She could still feel the tears traveling down her face. Unable to stop them. A band called Ultravox. Or something like that. She stood immobile as Kimberly moved the few steps separating them still in slow motion. She shouted over the music. "Karen? Honey? You alright?" Seeing the tears. Karen didn't even answer. She simply placed her arms around Kimberly's neck and absorbed the music. Kimberly hesitantly circled her arms around Karen. Linking her fingers loosely behind her friend's waist. Letting her cry again on her shoulder. She was very aware that they were the only girls dancing together on the dance floor, but she simply didn't care. Dancing. With tears in my eyes. They slowly rocked each other surrounded by a wall of slowly gyrating students. Some drunk. Some happy. Some sad. Some in love. Others not feeling anything. None of them paying the slightest attention to the two dancing women. Dancing. With tears in my eyes. Weeping for the memory of a life gone by. Kimberly hugged Karen close. Feeling her body shaking with her sobs. She had never slow danced with a woman before. Not this close. She could feel Karen's body heat through the sweatshirt. Felt the gentle rise of her breasts pressing lightly against her own. Feeling the girl's grief. Karen's tears dampening the shoulder of her sweatshirt. She felt tears brimming in her own eyes. Fought them off. Just sympathy tears. Dancing. With tears in my eyes. As the slow song ended, Karen pulled back gently, her arms still loosely encircling Kimberly's neck. Her fingers linked underneath her ponytail. Tears still streaming down her face. She sniffled and tilted her head. She slowly moved her face towards Kimberly. And Kimberly found herself slowly moving her face towards Karen. They both had tears in their eyes as their lips met for the first time.



Dancing. With tears in my eyes. Living out the memory of a love that died.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Ash - Crimson Dragon

Ash © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Ash (FF, cons, bdsm, control, release) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - 1994 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) originally posted under the nym RedDragon ======================================================================== Hot air blasted from the vents as she manoeuvred through the traffic. Horns blaring, the slight smell of exhaust. She shook her head in frustration as, beside her, a traffic cowboy began to stray in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes, barely restraining herself from cursing and leaning on the horn. She reminded herself that people were idiots and that she would soon be home. She didn't need the headache that was fast approaching. Her day at the office had been an exercise in hell. It was everything she could do not to quit today. She couldn't contain a smile. That really would have screwed their precious project. Then they could quibble about who would next lead the project. It was never ending. The petty bickering. The office politics. No wonder nothing ever got done. She shivered despite the heater in the old Pontiac. Idly she hoped that Ash had made some dinner tonight. She glanced at her watch. She was http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (1 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


late for any sort of dinner. Again she considered what it would take to quit. At least her stress would get back under control. As she finally wandered up her quiet street towards her house, her neighbour decided to back down his driveway without so much as a glance at the road. She slammed on the brakes, and with a great screeching of tires and scorching of rubber she managed to narrowly miss his rear bumper. She let her head down on the steering wheel and silently wept. Her tears only vaguely easing her frustration. When she finally looked up, Mr. Johnson had disappeared. She shook her head, wiped away her tears of frustration and turned into her driveway. As she opened her door, the cold took her breath away. It must be a record today, she thought as she struggled against the wind. The wind tore at her clothing and at her hair as she fumbled for her keys and slipped into the warmth of the house. Shivering, she kicked off her shoes. She sighed as her nyloned feet touched the floor. Those shoes must be the most uncomfortable contraptions ever invented, she silently complained. She looked up and was surprised to see that the house was dim. Normally, Ash kept all the lights on, especially if she was here alone. She glanced into the dining room from the front alcove. The table was set impeccably. Two candles sat in the centre of the table, unlit. She could hear Ash fussing in the kitchen. Slowly it dawned on her what was in store for the evening. She sighed contentedly. She could use the diversion. Finally beginning to warm up, she slipped her suede jacket from her shoulders and hung it in the closet. She thought about it. Why am I doing this? She still hadn't quite come to grips with herself ... or with Ash. But it felt so right. She knew she was going to go through with it. Might as well continue. As she thought about the night ahead of her, her stomach exploded with tiny little butterflies. She still had trouble recognising the tingling in her stomach as anticipation. Perhaps a little anxiety. She tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. Her nose picked up the unmistakable scent of chicken cooking in the kitchen with Ash. She tried to calm her fingers as she unbuttoned her blouse. She shuddered slightly as the material slid down her skin. She dropped it at her feet. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of her conservative skirt and slipped it down her nyloned legs until it pooled at her feet. Nimbly she stepped out of the circle of her skirt. She hesitated slightly as she reached behind herself to unclip her bra. She considered putting back on her clothes and walking down to the kitchen. But she couldn't do that. She wanted tonight. She http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (2 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


needed tonight. The brassiere fell with the rest of her clothing at her feet. She felt the slightly chilled air against her bare breasts; she loved that feeling. Embarrassed slightly, she noticed her nipples hardening with her thoughts and the cool air. Her nylons slipped off her legs and she sighed as she scratched her calves. That felt wonderful, her bare legs, her bare feet against the cold floor. She flexed her bare toes feeling the floor as she never could in shoes and socks. She slowly slipped her panties down her bare legs and lightly flicked them away with her right foot. Now came the hard part. She fought her mind. It is not wrong she wailed to herself. She felt the familiar tingling in her midriff as she found herself slowly sinking to her knees onto the cold hard floor. She could feel the ceramic tile beneath her bare knees, harsh and unfeeling. She leaned forward until she was on all fours. She could hear Ash stirring a pot in the kitchen, just out of sight. Her hands felt the harsh tile; she was aware of the cold unyielding tile against the top of her bare feet. She realised how she looked and cringed inwardly. A naked woman, about to crawl to the dinner table. She shivered in anticipation and willed herself to move her hands and knees in a familiar crawling motion. She was aware of her body as she always was when she was playing. Even though no one was watching, she still felt her humiliation. Ash could walk in at any moment. It wasn't as though she had never seen it before, but the nude woman still wasn't quite used to the humiliation. She had done this to herself. She could feel her bare breasts swinging gently as she crawled. The cool air ruffling her hair, and between her legs. The harsh cold floor beneath her knees, her hands, her feet. She struggled with her feelings but continued until she reached the dinner table. She knelt docilely beside the chair she knew Ash would use and waited. Ash walked in moments later carrying a book of matches. A smile played in her soft lips and she leaned over and ruffled her hair. "You finally made it home, Trish? Hmmmm?", her smile never leaving her face. Ash bent down and lightly kissed her housemate's forehead. Trish knew that an answer was not required and merely bowed her head after the kiss. A slight smile played on her lips.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (3 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


Ash smiled as she lit the candles on the table. "Wonder what fun we can have with these later?". Trish shuddered, wondering how it would feel. The butterflies exploded in her stomach again. Ash urged her housemate to crawl over to remaining chair. Trish climbed up into the chair and sat quietly, aware of her nudity, and that Ash had just witnessed her crawling like she was some sort of animal. Trish idly wondered how Ash ever knew when to provide these distractions. She felt Ash slowly and sensually wrapping soft cord around her bare right ankle. She shivered at Ash's touch and at the feeling of the cord against her skin. She felt her ankle being secured to the chair leg. She pulled gently at her leg, but there was no give to Ash's knots. Ash knelt down and firmly attached her left leg to the other chair leg. Trish held her hands behind the chair and waited while Ash slipped another length of cord around her wrists tying it off somewhere below. Trish tested her wrists. No movement up or down. She was helpless and vulnerable in the chair. Naked. She watched quietly as Ash wound more cord above and below her bare breasts, not uncomfortably, but enough to prevent her from leaning forward or rising out of the chair. She struggled with the ropes for a moment and then finally, began to relax. She felt her tension leave her body as though it was a sparrow suddenly released from its cage. She sighed feeling her restraint and freedom simultaneously. Without a word, Ash rose to her feet and wandered back into the kitchen. Trish felt her relaxation and idly watched the flames of the candles as they flickered free as her soul. Her mind slipped back in time to her first time. She had always known that she was different. She couldn't quite understand her feelings. She had always been fascinated by restraint. She had fought it, of course. She couldn't understand it. It made no sense. Restraining someone caused the butterflies. That wasn't normal. Reactions that she was ashamed of. Reactions that she couldn't deny. Television heroes and heroines. Helpless and vulnerable. She shivered whenever she saw it. When she was old enough, she began to experiment with self-bondage. Of course, she had no idea what it was called back then, she just enjoyed the feelings that it invoked. As she grew older, she had tried so hard to stop. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (4 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


She had known it was dangerous. Dangerous if she had been caught. What if her parents had walked in, their daughter nude and tying herself into the most amazingly elaborate schemes? She would have died. She and Ash had been roommates all through college. And it wasn't until the last year that Ash had finally caught her. She had been so ashamed when Ash found her pretending to be hogtied, buck naked, her hands wrapped in cord, her legs bound tightly and pulled back behind her. Her body face down on the floor in the middle of her room. She had been careless. Forgotten to lock the door. It was sort of amusing thinking back on it. Ash thought at first that a burglar had done it. But Trish had only been pretending ... and in a humiliated panic had freed her hands. Ash had understood. After helping to untie her legs, they talked well into the night about the strange feelings that Trish had. Ash made no judgments. She had even heard of such things before. Everyone is different she had told Trish. There is no such thing as normal. Early in the morning, when they had been too exhausted to talk anymore, Ash had asked whether Trish had ever truly been tied up. Trish had answered no, that she had always had to have some way out. That she had never trusted anyone to do that to her. Ash slowly picked up the rope that had previously bound Trish and looked at her roommate questioningly. The butterflies had exploded in Trish again and she dumbly nodded. She had watched in fascination, as for the first time, someone else took control and wrapped the rope around her ankles. Ash had then tied her hands behind her back and pulled the covers over her friend. The bonds were not constricting at all, but Trish couldn't pull out of them. Contentedly, she had fallen asleep in the ropes. When she had awoke in the morning, she felt slightly disoriented. The butterflies returned as soon as she had tried to move and found the ropes still holding her limbs. She was about to call out when she noticed Ash sitting quietly in her desk chair watching her. The feelings of helplessness and vulnerability were like a drug. Ash could have done anything to her and she couldn't have stopped it. But she had just stayed and watched over her, sensing that Trish still needed time to understand. She slowly got out of the chair and slowly released her friend from the ropes. Trish sighed as she watched Ash simply leave without a word. No words were needed. Ash slept the rest of the day as Trish tried to remember everything. How it had happened. What it had felt like. She felt wonderfully alive and stress free. Her exams were a forgotten memory. Her life felt like a new beginning. A new chapter.



Since those college days, Ash had always been there for her as she began to understand what she wanted and needed in her life. At times like these, when life got so hard it made her cry, Ash was there. Understanding. Providing. Somehow, Ash just knew. Trish smiled and pulled at her bonds. She idly wondered what was in store for her tonight. What was for dinner? What was Ash planning with the candles? How long was she going to be secured in this chair? She squirmed and tried to be patient. Trish closed her eyes and waited. As Ash finally came in she opened her eyes to the soft footsteps of Ash carrying a steaming bowl of soup to the table. Ash set it down in front of Trish and leaned forward to give her friend a soft kiss on the forehead. Then wordlessly she took a spoonful of soup, tested it for heat with her tongue, and raised it to the bound girl's lips. Unconsciously, Trish tried to raise her hand to take the spoon and was quickly reminded of her helplessness. Ash knew what she was doing. Trish couldn't do anything but eat, like a helpless child. Trish relaxed in her ropes and docilely ate the offered soup. Ash took the next spoonful for herself and alternated between herself and Trish. Soon the soup was finished and Ash rose to her feet and took the dish to the kitchen. As soon as Ash had risen, Trish whimpered softly. "Shhhhh, my little one, there's more ...", she chided Trish as she disappeared into the kitchen. Trish could hear Ash preparing the next course in the other room. She pulled against the ropes that held her nude body to the chair. Again she wondered, why ever would Ash do this for her? It couldn't be all that appetising for the other woman having a naked woman on display during dinner. Yet, here she was with the butterflies of anticipation fluttering through her. She glanced down at herself seeing the ropes holding her torso and her bare breasts poking through them. She felt the familiar stirring that always accompanied the sight of ropes on bare flesh. "Guess it's not that bad having a naked woman at the dinner table", she whispered to herself. She was pulling weakly at her wrist ropes when Ash reentered the dining area carrying a delectable chicken and rice dish which she set in front of Trish. Trish leaned forward as far as she could inhaling the aromas of the hot food, her stomach growling. Ash just smiled and let Trish enjoy her labours. Ash spooned out some of the food out of the casserole dish releasing a new batch of steam. Less food ended up on Trish's plate, but she made no complaint, only a very low whimper of disappointment.



Ash quickly finished off the plate in front of her, glancing from time to time at Trish just across the table. Trish squirmed in her restraint, hungry and begging to be fed with her eyes. Ash smiled, knowing exactly what the other woman wanted and needed tonight. Control. She needed to give it up completely for the night. Then she would be all right. Ash wiped her mouth deliberately with her napkin and glided to the opposite side of the table. Lifting Trish's fork, she began to slowly feed her housemate. The aroma of the still hot chicken and rice drove the bound woman to salivate uncontrollably as she strained to gather the food faster into her waiting mouth. All too soon, the dish was clean. Her belly felt comfortably full and she sighed in contentment. Trish watched helplessly as Ash reached into her handbag and removed a new toy. Trish recognised the leather strap but did not understand the meaning behind the bright red ball attached in the middle. Realisation dawned on her as the ball was pressed gently to her lips. Trish opened her mouth as Ash slipped the gag into her mouth effectively silencing her housemate. Trish felt her mouth stretch to accommodate the ball, savouring the sensations of helplessness. The gag completed her withdrawal from control. She couldn't even speak to communicate her desires. Completely at Ash's whims. She smiled as best she could around the oral intrusion. Satisfied for the moment, Ash began to gather the dishes from the table. "I should have you clean these with your tongue," Ash remarked as she disappeared into the kitchen with a mischievous grin playing on her face. Trish could hear Ash running water into their kitchen sink. Her mind wandered as the water lulled her thoughts. Her arms were beginning to ache a bit from being held in the same position for the better part of an hour. She pulled at her bound wrists and tried to adjust her position. But the ropes held her body firmly and all she could do was bite thoughtfully at the gag and relax into her restraints. She found herself pulling at her ankles wanting to stretch out. Ash returned silently carrying a single cup of coffee. Trish looked longingly at the cup, but accepted that she wasn't to have any tonight - that it was Ash's will. Ash settled herself into in the adjoining chair and just gazed at her nude friend, the ropes, her



filled mouth, her powerlessness. After a while, she leaned forward to kiss her housemate on her forehead. They both needed this. "You ready?" Ash's asked the bound woman in front of her. Trish simply nodded. Ash began to slowly release Trish from her constricting ropes. Her ankles, her torso, and finally her wrists. Trish rubbed gently at her wrists, gazing at the red welts buried into her soft skin by the ropes. She bit at her gag, her eyes pleading with Ash to remove it. Ash just smiled and waited for Trish to rub the stiffness from her body. Knowing what she wanted to do, and fighting herself all the way, Trish slowly slipped off the chair seat and onto her knees. Rough carpet beneath her bare knees and along her shins. She waited for Ash to guide her. Ash let her kneel there for a few minutes while she sipped at her coffee. Finally Ash gathered up the fine hair at the back of Trish's head and guided the nude woman to all fours. Slowly Trish crawled at Ash's gentle leash of her own hair. She was very aware of herself. In the office, she was a different person. Her attitude, her clothes, her demeanour, her control. All so different than the nude woman crawling at the feet of her housemate like a pet, an animal. Which was really her? Trish knew. She fought it, but she knew. Ash knew as well. Perhaps the only two people in the world. Trish reluctantly accepted herself and continued her slow crawl. Her jaw was beginning to ache from the pressure of her gag, but it was not unbearable. Trish felt the coolness of the air against her bare skin. The flow of the air about her body. The muffled sounds she made as she moved her body in the rhythm of the crawl. The coolness of the tile as she crossed the hall. The gently pull and soft pain of Ash's guiding hand entangled in her hair. The swing of her breasts between her arms. The slight smell of the coffee that Ash carried. She felt alive; more alive and free than all the countless hours she has spent in the confines of her office and her car. No phone to answer, no memos to write. No worries. She was free to feel, to lose herself to sensations. Together, they reached the family room. Trish was led to the coffee table, just in front of the sofa. Ash smoothed Trish's hair and then patted the table. Knowing what was expected from her, Trish moved her body up onto the table. Face up. Vulnerable. Ash bent down and softly kissed each of her breasts. Trish gasped at the sensation as well as http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (8 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


she could with the ball wedged in her mouth. Ash then wrapped the soft cord back around Trish's wrists, gently manoeuvring them above her head. Another rope secured the wrists there. Her legs were spread and attached securely to the table legs at the opposite side of the table. Ash placed her coffee down on the table between Trish's spread thighs. She then wrapped the remainder of the soft rope about her housemate's waist securing her fully to the table. It was an uncomfortable position, but Trish was still savouring the gentle touch of Ash's lips on her breasts. She pulled weakly at her restraints, but didn't need to test them to know that she was helpless. Control. She felt the unusual chill of the room against her bare skin. Her nipples tightened further as the cool air brushed them as Ash's lips had but moments before. Ash wandered over to the fireplace and began to build a low fire, just enough to take the chill off the room. The crackle of the fire and the flickering glow was somehow comforting and relaxing. Trish could feel the dry heat of the fire against her bare flank. She pulled again at the bonds and finally relaxed. Her mind was releasing itself. Rather than worry about what would happen to her, she found herself slipping into a state of quiet acceptance. Ash wouldn't hurt her. Ash returned and picked up her coffee from the table, brushing her fingers lightly along Trish's bare thigh. Trish squirmed to prolong the sensation, but Ash simply retired to the sofa, content to watch the dancing flames and gaze over the nude woman held in front of her. She gathered up the remote control and switched on the stereo. The Moody Blues filled the room with soft music. The swelling music lulled Trish to close her eyes and enjoy, even though she was beginning to envy Ash her comfortable seat in the plush sofa. She squirmed again against the unyielding surface of the table; made an incoherent noise into her gag. Ash smiled at her, knowing that she hadn't quite given herself up, but was well on the way. She would heal tonight. Ash sipped at her coffee and trailed her fingers idly along her housemate's bare skin, sending shivers through the bound woman. She would relax in her own way. Trish closed her eyes. The swelling notes from the speakers haunted her ears, interrupted by the crackle of the fire. She acutely felt the ropes against her skin holding her, caressing her. The ache in her jaws, the faint smell of her shampoo. Her senses exploded. She faintly shook her head and opened her eyes. She turned to look at Ash



to plead with her to remove the gag. Ash was no longer buried in the sofa. She hadn't even heard her leave. Straining her ears, Trish thought that she heard her in the kitchen perhaps brewing another cup of coffee. She relaxed again and waited quietly for her return. A few minutes later, Ash ascended the short flight of steps into the living room. She gazed at the restrained woman on the coffee table. Her eyes danced in the glow of the fire. Trish saw the candles in her hands and her eyes riveted to them. Instinctively, she found herself pulling of her bonds and had to calm herself. Control. She relaxed again, but her helpless body wouldn't completely stop shivering. She tried to ask Ash, but all that emerged from her filled mouth was unintelligible moans. Her eyes followed the unlit candles as Ash placed them on the table just beneath her vulnerable armpits. Ash smiled at her housemate and slowly and deliberately stroked Trish's bare nipples. They hardened despite Trish's efforts to quell her reaction. Trish caught her breath at the touch, closed her eyes and moaned. Ash smiled in satisfaction. Ash picked up the remote and settled back into the sofa. She sipped again at her coffee and switched the CD to Bad English. Trish wasn't particularly fond of the group but Ash only smiled when Trish shook her head against the table and pulled in resignation at her ropes. The sounds of John Waite filled the room as they waited. Ash gently leaned forward and ran her fingers lightly up Trish's exposed side. Trish shuddered as the butterflies again took flight in her stomach. She was ready. When the track ended on the stereo, Ash switched the CD again to a more classical disk. Trish didn't recognise it. Could have been Mozart. Trish squirmed wondering when and what was going to happen to her. She felt entirely helpless. She had given up her body, her trust, her control to Ash. She felt her muscles relaxing from her toes to the top of her head. She was so aware of herself. Free. Herself. She had lost herself completely these last few weeks. She was finally finding herself again. It felt good. Ash was watching her nude housemate, concentrating on her face, her telltale body movement. She would know when to begin. She always did. Like a seer, she could just tell. It was almost as though they were one entity. She didn't quite understand her attraction to Trish, why they were so close. They'd been through so much together. They were almost sisters. She would do anything for her friend and she knew the bound lady in front of her would do nearly anything for her. In a sense they were one. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (10 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


There. Trish was ready. She didn't know what was going to happen to her, but she had a fairly good idea. Ash had watched the struggle on her friends body and face, fighting the discomfort of the ropes, the unorthodox role, yes, her humiliation. She watched the same fight every time. She idly wondered if her friend would ever quite understand who she was, accept herself. As it was she let it build until she was ready to explode. But perhaps it enhanced her satisfaction letting it build over the weeks. Ash was familiar with the signs of acceptance. She saw her friend finally relax, give up her control completely. Would not accept it back until morning. Ready to move on. To free herself. Ash leaned forward whispering to her housemate. She picked up the candle that was lying inside Trish's right armpit and held it in front of Trish's face. Her eyes widened, but she made no protest, not even a flinch of her eyes, as Ash struck the match and the smell of sulphur permeated the room. She quietly watched as Ash lit the candle and pursed her lips, blowing out the match. Ash rose to her feet and wandered to the fireplace, tossing the match in carelessly. Trish watched helplessly as her housemate kicked off her moccasins and padded barefoot over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the table. She brushed her fingers lightly over Trish's bare nipple and gently kissed it. Trish felt her breasts tingle and she moaned through her ball gag. She allowed herself to pull at her ankle restraints once and then settled down, her eyes glued to the tiny flame wavering in Ash's left hand. Ash's mind wandered. A witches ritual. The initiate, searching for herself. Bound, a human sacrifice but not quite. Ash, the ritual guide about to lead the way on a journey she had never undertaken. Trish, waiting calmly for her guidance. A age old ritual passed down from ancient times. Ash was aware of herself as well, her role, her body her mind. The ambiance she had created for her friend. Of course, she was not a witch, but upon reflection it was a type of ritual. They were finding themselves in their own way. Ash slowly moved the candle. Trish's eyes followed the waxen stick as it centred over her right breast. She now knew what was to follow. Her mind whirled as she fought for control. The trick was to accept it, not to fight it. Fighting herself didn't work. Never had. In slow motion, Trish watched as the candle ever so slowly began to dip forward. A drop of molten wax dripped from the head of the candle. It travelled as though it was dropped through a strobe. Time



slowed. Trish watched as the drop struck her vulnerable nipple, coated it and almost instantly solidified. It seemed like hours, but in reality was a split second, the pain exploded in her breast. The tender, erect nipple throbbed in the heat. Trish knew in her mind that it would not damage her, but the instantaneous heat in such a tender spot was enough to make her scream through her gag. She unconsciously pulled at her ropes, trying in vain to reach her sensitive breasts, to cover them, to cup them, to ease the torment. But finally when the pain abated from her nipple, Trish opened her eyes, which she couldn't remember scrunching tight, and weakly smiled at her roommate. She could feel the hardened wax tightening on her bare nipple. It felt odd, but not in a bad way. Trish watched as Ash set the candle on the table and slowly pulled off her top. Her breasts were heaving, not quite as much as her bound housemate's, but her breath came hard and ragged. She didn't quite know why but it was right for her. She reached forward and felt the hardened wax on her roommates nipple. Trish gasped at the touch to her super-sensitive flesh and Ash wondered very briefly what it felt like to be so helpless and not be able to get away from the wax. She raised her finger to her own tight nipples knowing that Trish was watching, but not caring. They knew each other well enough. She sighed as her finger brushed lightly at her erect nipples. She picked up the candle again, smiling at Trish. Trish's eyes immediately focused back on the flame being moved to her left breast. Again, the slow motion of the drop of molten wax. Trish watched as the drop unerringly dropped, coating her hardened nipple, imprisoning it in sweet agony. She felt the table as her head arched into the unyielding surface, the ropes as they dug cruelly into her wrists and ankles as she tried in vain to reach her breasts. Her gasp of air trying to fill lungs that didn't want to function. The obstruction holding her mouth open, muffling her voice as she released herself as her lungs caught up with her sensations. Opening her eyes in time to see Ash stroke her own bare nipples. Stirrings. Butterflies. Her tears trickling down her face, rivers of her release. Ash reached forward and lightly brushed the tears from Trish's cheeks, smiling at her kindly. Ash whispered lightly in Trish's ear, barely loud enough to be heard over her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "More?" Trish felt the familiar feelings welling up in her. The knowledge of her helplessness, her vulnerability. She fought herself and slowly nodded. Immediately, Ash tipped another two drops onto Trish's right http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (12 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:02 AM


breast, and a single one coated her left. Ash wondered again how it would feel. Trish watched the two drops cover the wax on her right nipple, felt the searing heat. She only felt the left, as her eyes closed and her endorphins coursed through her veins. She pain slipped into the background of her mind, light exploded behind her closed eyes. She could feel her breasts heaving, her body straining, but she was curiously detached. Her face relaxed, followed by all her body muscles. She could feel Ash continuing to drop the wax onto her body, on the bare portions of her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. But the sensations further buoyed her. She felt as though she was released from her bound body, floating. She could nearly see the clouds as she rushed along above them as if she was at the window of a jet. She could sense the clouds opening, open water beneath rushing by. She could see the whitecaps as the wind pressed the water onwards forever. And then she was returning. She felt the pull of her consciousness as her body called her back. Back to herself. The warm room, the table, the restraints, Ash. She opened her eyes. She slowly moved her jaw, the gag had been removed. Ash leaned over close, her face dancing by the firelight. "Was it nice?" she whispered. "Mhmmmm," Trish closed her eyes again, pulling on her wrists idly. Ash envied her friend. She had no idea where she went during these sessions but afterwards she was a different person. Ash could almost see the tension flowing out of her bound friend, her muscles unknotting, her tears, her sighs. Trish may have been bound securely to the table, but she was the most free person in the world right now. Ash smiled, leaned forward and lightly kissed Trish's lips. She allowed her fingers to wander down Trish's throat, lightly brushing her exposed breasts, circling the bare patches of skin. She felt the hard shell coating Trish's nipples, could make out the form of the underlying flesh. She smiled as Trish gasped at the touches. She ran figure eights slowly down her friend's ribs and stomach, illiciting delicious squirms and moans. She ran her fingers lightly through the sparse pubic hair of her bound roommate, causing more moans.



Not sure what Trish wanted, not sure what she wanted, Ash again brought her mouth to Trish's ear. "Continue?" in a breathy voice. Trish simply smiled in response. It wasn't as though they had never done this before. It seemed almost a natural expression of their friendship, a simple sharing of shared frustrations. Ash again kissed Trish's lips, feeling a soft response and a shiver pass through her restrained body. She wandered her fingers through the fine hair stroking lightly along the outside of the lips. Trish strained against the ropes holding her, trying to get more contact, squirming. A low moan escaped her lips. Ash teased her for a few moments before allowing her index finger to enter between Trish's lips. The wetness there surprised even Ash. Trish had never been this responsive to her contact before. She was getting more used to Ash and making love to a woman. Neither woman really thought of herself as homosexual. Nevertheless, it seemed appropriate. Trish felt the intimate contact of Ash's fingers from a more distant place. She was trying to concentrate on Ash's lips as they tenderly kissed. She tried to concentrate as Ash's finger wandered the length of her body, caressing, feeling. She tried to feel her ropes, the table. Each sensation pushed her further and further back towards the clouds and the water. She could feel Ash's finger slowly enter her, and she automatically moaned and pressed towards the violation. She gently rocked herself to the rhythm of Ash's probing fingers. She had never quite felt so free, so alive. So out of control. She pressed herself as best she could to help Ash. Ash lightly kissed her coated nipples. Trish arched against her ropes as Ash lightly touched her clitoris and withdrew. Trish moaned in frustration and finally opened her eyes, her rushing clouds slowly fading. She watched as Ash slowly licked her finger and brushed her own bare breasts, leaned forwards and brushed her own exposed nipples against Trish's coated ones. The breast contact was electric. Trish moaned once again straining against her captivity. Ash allowed her fingers to wander back to Trish's lips, gently parting them and slowly, maddeningly slowly, began to circle her clitoris. Trish rocked as best as she could with the motion of Ash's finger. The clouds immediately began to rush by. The water crashing below them. Trish began falling towards the water in her mind, faster and faster, images of herself, bound, nude, helpless, vulnerable. Endorphins rushed through her mind. Every muscle in her body went http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (14 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:03 AM


rigid, pulling against her bonds, pulsing. Her mind exploded in light, a rush of sound that she recognised as her own voice crying out her pleasure, her pain, her climax. After an eternity, she felt her muscles relax and she slumped back onto her imprisoning table. Ash smiled at her friend, they both were exhausted. Ash would satisfy herself later, in private. She padded out of the room, leaving Trish to relax further and remember her sensations. After she returned, drink in hand, she found Trish rhythmically breathing, her head turned against the hard table, her hair fanned out, eyes closed. Ash settled into the sofa and switched the CD to some soft classical that she didn't even recognise. She watched over her housemate as she slept. Ash leaned her head back and listened to the fire and the swelling music, watched Trish's wax covered breasts rise and fall with her steady breathing. Finally, Ash rose to her feet and knelt at Trish's bound ankles. She carefully unlashed her ankles, careful not to wake her. Her waist ropes were removed, and then her wrists. Ash settled back into the sofa with her schnapps and waited patiently. Soon enough, the pins and needles awakened Trish and she opened her eyes to smile at Ash. Ash leaned her glass to Trish's mouth, and she sipped the liqueur. But as she moved her arms from above her head, she cried out as the pins and needles intensified. Tears welled in her eyes and she cried softly as Ash gathered her up, rubbing her wrists carefully until the pain abated. After a time, Ash leaned forward and gently pulled Trish's hands behind her back. She attached two lined leather cuffs to her wrists. They both knew Trish wasn't ready to gain back her control. She simply smiled up at Ash as though to thank her for understanding. A quick padlock through the hasps rendered Trish helpless and vulnerable again. Ash ran her hands gently down Trish's body tickling her ribs and lingering on her breasts. Trish gasped at the sensations and felt the butterflies take flight again. Ash slowly rose to her feet, motioning for Trish to rise as well. Ash guided Trish up the stairs to her bedroom. They entered Trish's bedroom, with her four poster bed. Ash bid Trish to wait quietly by the foot of the bed. Trish swayed and wished for the bed, she was exhausted from the nights events. She looked down at herself and felt a bit of a flush. Her hands pinioned behind her. Nude. Her front spotted with wax. Her body trembling. She felt the cold of the floor beneath her feet as she waited for Ash to return from the adjoining



room. She knew that Ash was only placing the key to her cuffs in the bathroom so that she could free herself in the morning. A tear again formed in her eyes. Questions of herself, and her sexuality wandered through her head as she stood there. She shivered as she recalled her night in ropes, nude, with her roommate. She felt abnormal, it suddenly felt wrong. Why did she need it? The feminine contact? The dominance, the submission, the restraint? The trust, the friendship? Why did she feel so good, so free? She felt the tear escape her eyelid and trickle down her face. Would she ever accept herself? What she liked? She only realised that Ash had returned when she felt Ash's gentle touch wiping away the tear. She smiled at Trish. "It's OK. It's you. It's right for you. There is no normal." Ash always had understood. Trish shook her head as Ash guided her beneath the comforter. She felt the cool sheets on her bare skin, and watched as Ash removed her jeans and panties. God, she was beautiful. Ash slipped into the bed behind Trish, wrapping her arms around her, holding her. Felt their bodies together, skin against skin. Trish sighed before she slipped into a sleep filled with clouds, water, and dimly felt heat. Her last thought was that she would never be normal. She fell asleep smiling. *** Trish woke from her sleep, fully refreshed. She hadn't slept this well in months. She squirmed a bit in Ash's arms until her housemate woke enough to allow her to work herself to the edge of the bed. Her bare feet dangled to meet with the freezing floor. She tried to scratch her nose and realised quickly that she had slept in the cuffs. She smiled at the thought and rose to pad into the bathroom. Her hair was a mess, and she had blue wax all over her breasts. She reached down and struggled with the key off the top of the toilet. Finally the padlock sprang free and she could scratch her nose. It felt wonderful to be free again. She showered slowly and long. Feeling the caress of the warm water flowing over her body. She idly hoped that Ash was all right. From what she remembered it had been a long session and she still wasn't sure what Ash thought about it all. As she quietly slipped into her room to dress, she found Ash sprawled out on her bed one bare breast partially exposed by the sheets. She smiled and dressed as quietly as http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Ash.html (16 of 17)8/15/2005 12:15:03 AM


she could. Ash mumbled something incoherent just as she left the room, closing the door on the light. As the door closed, and with no one to hear, Ash repeated her mumbling a little clearer, "I think I'm falling in love again ..." Trish padded down the stairs, smiling at the pile of her clothing from the night before at the front door. Ash hadn't moved them. She leaned down and carefully folded them, leaving them on the stairs to put away at night when she returned home. As she stepped out into the crystal clear day, she watched her breath plume away from her as she took the crisp air into her lungs. She felt invigorated, free, released, stress free. She hadn't felt like this in so long. She fairly danced to the car, rubbing her hands together as she let it warm up. She turned on the stereo and was singing to Aerosmith when she realised that it had been months since she had sung. Her voice echoed in the car as she pulled out of her driveway and down her street. She was even in tune. She could feel it, even traffic would be light today. She slammed on her brakes as old Mr. Johnson slid down his driveway like a maniac, not watching as usual. He finally turned to look, as she smiled, shook her head, and waved at him. She would be all right. Crazy, but all right.



You are vistor #


since August 2000.

Thunder Ridge - Crimson Dragon

Thunder Ridge © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Thunder Ridge (MF, cons, light bond, outdoors, rain) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - 1994 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) originally posted under the nym RedDragon ======================================================================== They came here to find themselves. It had been her suggestion to come. She needed the freedom; the comfort. Her week had been unusually stressful. Pressure, deadlines, headaches. All of her thoughts had centered on Thunder Ridge for the last few days. She had finally asked him yesterday. The ride up had been uneventful, though they both knew what was ahead. Surprisingly quiet. She let her long hair blow in the wind of the open window and watched the countryside silently brooding. The sky was the colour of gray charcoal. Farms and the smell of the fields. He drove silently leaving her to her thoughts. He knew she needed her time; her space. The scenery had abruptly changed from flat farmland to hillscape as http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/ThunderRidge.html (1 of 5)8/15/2005 12:15:14 AM


though the land had heaved in anger in the distant reaches of time. They had wound around the hills finally arriving near the peak. She had breathed in deeply as she exited the car feeling the wonderfully clear, crisp air fill her lungs. The smell of pine needles had begun to drive away the demons of the week. For the first time in a long time she had smiled. Watching her, he had sensed the pleasure she had experienced. He, too, had smiled. They had gathered up the preparations and hiked. The forest sounds abruptly ceased with their passage; only to begin again as they had passed. She felt alive and free. They reached their final destination. Thunder Ridge. Though she had been here before, the breathtaking view again stunned her. At the top of the ridge, the land dropped away to a sea of green pine two hundred feet below. Forest stretched out as far as the eye could see. She stood unmoving for a few minutes, then slowly turned to him. They embraced at the edge of the ridge. He kissed her gently on the tip of the nose. Moving apart, she looked at him questioningly. He nodded and bent to the bag lying at his feet rummaging for the equipment. She stepped away from the edge of the cliff slowly lifting her sweatshirt over her head. Kneeling, he watched as she shed her clothing dropping each piece to the pine needles under her feet. Quickly, she was nude, standing barefoot in the pine needles. She looked at him with a naughty look on her face. Smiling, she bent to her scattered clothing and gathered it up. She stepped towards the cliff and nonchalantly dropped them over the edge. She was committed now. She held her hands out to him, beckoning him with her look. He stood with her cuffs in his hands. She shivered slightly as the padded leather encircled her wrists. He bent down and attached the second set to her bare ankles. Rising, he led her to the tall post that they had erected here many years ago, when she had first explained her unique form of relaxation. Just a simple hook at just the right height and a pole. She raised her arms as he reached up and attached the leather cuffs to the hook comfortably above her head. She pulled experimentally against the bonds finding no looseness. She sighed as she relaxed into his control. With a piece of cord he attached her ankles to the base of the pole. She tested the restraint on her ankles; again finding no weakness. She surrendered automatically to the helplessness, the vulnerability. She trusted him as she trusted herself; they were in love. He kissed her again. Then he pulled away, she trying to follow but stopped short by her restraint. His fingers lingered teasingly over http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/ThunderRidge.html (2 of 5)8/15/2005 12:15:14 AM


her exposed breasts, trailing down her side and irresistible shivers up and down her spine. She the unhearing forest. He pulled back and looked familiar stirring of desire. But she needed her for his needs later.

thighs, sending moaned softly into at her and felt the time and space. Time

He turned his back and walked away heading back the way they had come. Many times they had done this; she understood that he would be back, after he had relaxed in his fashion -- walking alone in the woods. She idly wondered how long before he would return. Her helplessness washed over her. She wasn't afraid of being discovered, but if something happened? Familiar panic rose in her mind setting off a bout of futile struggling. She considered screaming for him to come back. Let her loose. She mentally slapped her face. She struggled for control. This is what she wanted; needed. Time alone. Time to consider herself. She had no control, she could only relax in her bonds until she was released. Enjoy the view, the sensations of the forest. Lose herself. She became acutely aware of her surroundings. Even though she had been here many times before in the same situation, she still felt like a child experiencing everything for the first time. She felt the stirring of the wind against her bare skin. Cooling her bare breasts, stirring between her legs. Moving her long hair about her shoulders. She shook her head to free her mane from behind her back and the pole. She could hear the chipmunks scampering through the pine needles behind her, birds singing their melodies in the peaks of the trees above. The view off the ridge. The forest of green, the churning clouds above flowing fast, free, and tumbling through the sky. The pine needles below the soles of her feet. The clean smell of the forest assaulting her sensitive nostrils. Such simplicity, washing away the complexity of life. She was helpless but to absorb it. She sighed, contented. She rested her head back against the supporting post, feeling the roughness of the wood at her bare back. She closed her eyes, absorbing the other senses. She slipped unknowingly into a light sleep. She awoke startled and disoriented when something dropped on her face lightly. More drops hit her face as she tried to move. After pulling at her hands she remembered where she was, the post, the

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/ThunderRidge.html (3 of 5)8/15/2005 12:15:14 AM


bonds, Thunder Ridge. She slowly realized it was lightly raining and the cool drops were hitting her upturned face. She saw a flash of lightning in the distance and the ominous roll of thunder rolled over her a few moments later. The wind had died, leaving behind an eerie still. She became aware of the smell of new rain in the forest. She breathed in heavily taking in this new sensation. She had never been here in the rain before. She reveled in the cool water sliding slowly down her bare body, coating her skin in a wet glaze. She could her the droplets falling through the still trees, hitting the forest floor. Idly she wondered where he was. Smiling, she wondered if he was getting wet. She didn't have a choice, stuck as she was. The rain began to fall in earnest, slicking down her hair and soaking her body. She laughed and tilted her head upwards to feel the rain against her face. Opening her mouth to trap the precious water. He wandered back to catch her playing like a child, trying to catch the rain. He smiled, no wonder he loved her. He stood in the rain, his clothes plastered against his skin and watched her against the pole. Still over all these years she hadn't outgrown the child trapped in her. He waited until she finally lowered her head and opened her eyes. They shone as she realized he was there, watching her. She smiled at him as he stepped over to the post and quickly released her ankles from the base. Reaching up, he released her wrists from the hook. She danced away from the wood that had imprisoned her for the last few hours and turned slowly in the rain, face again uplifted, arms outstretched. He couldn't help but admire the simple beauty of her. Her freedom, her innocence. She ran up to him and embraced. Kissing him, pressing her bare wet body to his soaked clothes. She was free of her demons. They walked hand in hand through the forest and the rain. She absorbed the last sensations of the place, the rain against her skin, the wet pine needles below her bare feet. Her hand in his. As they reached the car, she shivered slightly. Once in the car, she curled up like a kitten, her head his wet lap, her wet hair spread out over the seat and wrapped her nudity up in the blanket, murmuring softly She purred once and slept the entire way home. Finally right.

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/ThunderRidge.html (4 of 5)8/15/2005 12:15:14 AM

cradled in his legs. She to herself. it was all

Heat - Crimson Dragon

Heat © Copyright 1997-2004 - Crimson Dragon - All Rights Reserved


======================================================================== Heat (MF, cons, light bond, outdoors) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - 1994 All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon ([email protected]) ======================================================================== Even the ever present mosquitoes were silent. The sun beat down relentlessly. Mist slowly rose from the still pond; the branches of the surrounding glades had not even a hint of movement. The crystal blue of the sky above only broken by the blazing ball of heat. She gazed out the window, glad for the relief of the air conditioning. She could hear the whine of the cicadas as they called out in protest in the overpowering heat. Elvis singing his Memphis blues softly behind her. She slowly ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. She didn't really want to go out. But she needed to. As she stepped out onto the rough wooden porch, the whine of the insects sharpened. Immediately, sweat sprang to the surface of her exposed body. She had dropped her clothing at the window as http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Heat.html (1 of 6)8/15/2005 12:15:55 AM


though it were simply a burden. She reveled in the heat; let herself loose to the sensations. The rough boards under her bare soles. The oppressive heat soaking into her flesh. The smell of the pond, the grass, the glades. She shook her hair free and stepped through the screened doorway and descended the steps to the manicured grass below. She felt free, like a child. She had shed her clothes, the comfort of the house; she wanted her freedom. The blades of grass beneath her feet, the humidity in the hot air. She took a deep breath and ran beneath the boughs of the glades along the lawn towards the pond laughing at her freedom, arms outstretched, legs pumping. As she paused by the dock, she marveled at the simplicity of it. The heat, the stillness, the smell of summer. She lightly stepped onto the boards of the dock, and her splash broke the still of the afternoon. She dove long under the water, breaking the surface with a gasp. She floated, her hair fanned out in the quiet clear water. Cool. Refreshing. Clean. Looking up, she saw him. Casually walking down from the side of the house, watching her with a small smile on his face. She smiled back to him, and stroked towards the deck. She climbed out and stretched out on the dock letting the sun dry her body. She waiting for him. He knelt down on the dock by her head. His eyes roamed up her body; her face and body wet and heaving with her exertion. Finally his eyes rested on her face. She had not asked him, but he knew as soon as he had seen her running to the pond. He was prepared for her question. As she started to speak, he pressed his finger gently to her lips. He raised his eyebrows and merely asked, "How long?" She whispered, only an hour or two if he would bring her water and check on her. He nodded. She rolled over onto her stomach, feeling the roughness of the dock beneath her bare breasts and thighs. Raised herself to her hands and knees, finally rising to her bare feet. They walked hand in hand towards the nearest cypress. It was a large tree, its branches forming a canopy, a shield from the overpowering sun. As they reached it, she sank to her knees on the grass. The shade of the huge tree gave only partial relief from the heat. The grass felt warm under her calves. She held her hands up as if in supplication and her eyes lowered to the green grass. "You sure?" he asked. She nodded. http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Heat.html (2 of 6)8/15/2005 12:15:55 AM


Prepared, he produced some rough cord from his back pocket and wrapped her wrists gently in the cords. She tested the bonds, realizing that they would not slip. She shivered despite the overpowering heat. She stood up, allowing him to attach her wrists to a perfect branch just above her head. Knowing she would be needing some water soon, he turned to go. She called him softly. Murmured that she would like her feet done too. Shaking his head, he knelt and quickly lashed her bare ankles together. Not too tight, for she wanted to stay there for a while. She tested the new bonds by pulling at her feet. She wasn't going anywhere real fast. This time as he turned to go, she let him. She tested the bonds until he returned with a glass of water with ice. He ran the glass over her forehead, cooling her. Smiling, he lowered the glass, and ran the cold surface over her bare breasts and nipples. Crying out softly, she tried to twist away. Unable to twist far enough to escape him, her breath hitched as he only teased her with the icy touch and brought the rim of the glass to her lips. She drank quickly. The tip of her tongue emerged and deliberately licked the remaining water from her lips. He sat on the grass beside her and realized the simple beauty of the day. The stillness, the heat. He could see why she was out here but he would never fully understand her. What did she get out of this? Tied to a tree, on a day like this? He shook his head. Strange. But it made her happy. He knew he loved her. He would do anything for her. He stood and walked over to her. Taking her head gently in his hands, he kissed her on the lips. She responded feeling the roughness of his clothing on her bare skin. The feeling of control, despite not being able to move her arms and legs, was strangely reassuring. He broke the kiss and slowly turned away. She wanted more, but was unwilling to break the still to ask for it. Unable to follow, she turned her head to watch him return to the house. She relaxed in her bonds. Her sensations tuned to everything around her. If she really strained she could even hear Elvis from the house through the steady drone of the cicadas. Maybe he had turned up the stereo a little. The frogs whined in the still air. She could smell the water so close. She could nearly feel

http://www.asstr.org/~Crimson_Dragon/short_stories/stories/Heat.html (3 of 6)8/15/2005 12:15:55 AM


the water rising up on her naked body as she imagined the freedom of swimming. She couldn't return to the pond, but she didn't regret it. Peace washed over her as she closed her eyes and waited. She didn't remember sleeping, but she remembered dreams of far off lands and heat. Heat. The day had gotten even warmer. She was glad she had chosen a prison in the shade. She needed a sunburn like she needed another commitment. She heard the screen door close and heard footsteps coming down from the house. She turned her head and watched as he moved across the lawn carrying two glasses of iced tea. She pulled weakly at her ropes to relieve a cramp. He set the glasses on the grass and slowly ran his hands down her back. Gently kneading out the stiffness and soreness of staying in the same position so long. His hands strayed around front, gently brushing her bare breasts and lightly stroking the nipples. She felt herself responding immediately to the touch, lightly gasping. His hands strayed down her front tickling her stomach. And lightly stroking between her legs. She wished that she could return the favour, but she wasn't about to allow herself to be released yet. She got these ropes so seldom, that she just had to enjoy it while she could. His hands left her, leaving her flustered and sweating even more. He raised the glass to her lips, insisting that she drink. She sipped the tea gratefully; she had no idea that she was as thirsty as she was. He kissed her again. Pulled back and looked into her pretty face. "Sure you don't want out?" She shook her head and pulled at her wrists, frustrated at her inability to reach him. He turned away once more, retiring to the house to watch her from the window. She might enjoy the sensations of the bondage, but there was no way in hell, that he was going to leave her alone out here. Naked, vulnerable. He could be at her side in seconds if required. But she knew her limits, her desires. She wouldn't need him. She just wanted to be alone. With herself. To where she retreated while she was out there, was beyond his comprehension. All he knew was that she needed it. She needed this once in a while, as an addict needs his fix. As the bird needs its nest. As everyone needs someone to love. She stood quietly, at peace. He envied her that and wished it was as simple for himself. Did she love him? As he loved her? He wasn't sure.



She was lost again. She wasn't tied to the large cypress any longer. She was free. Exploring herself, her thoughts, her being. She didn't quite understand this facet of her life. She knew that he couldn't hope to understand. But at least he didn't look at her like a leper when she had first explained this aspect of her life. This was her escape. She knew that it wasn't wrong. She lost herself again into her dreams. This time, he had to wake her. She pulled herself up using the cords on her wrists. She grimaced a bit at the pain in her hands. They had fallen asleep. He pressed a glass of cool water to her lips. When she was finished, he knelt down and released her ankles from their prison. She realized the freedom and shook out each leg until the circulation was fully restored to her bare feet. Her reached up and released her wrists from the branch. Almost a ritual, she knelt in the grass and offered her hands up to him, eyes downcast. He quickly removed the cord from about her wrists and kissed the back of her hands. She rose to her feet and shook her hands out restoring their circulation as she had for her feet. She cried out softly as the pins and needles attacked her hands. Hearing the cry and sympathizing with the pain, he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and held her. She murmured something that he couldn't quite hear. After the pain had subsided, they silently joined hands and walked slowly back towards the house. She turned halfway and gazed down to her prison where she had been standing for hours. She could hardly believe that she had done it again. But she felt relaxed now. In control. Herself again. She sat her bare bottom on the grass, pulling at his hand to join her. She looked up into the sky and realized that it was getting darker. The afternoon had turned to early evening. They sat together, her nude, him clothed and watched the sky turn colour. She looked into his eyes realizing that the sun was still setting there, too. Tears began to fall gently from her eyes. Concerned he touched her face brushing the tears from her cheeks. He held her, not fully understanding her but knowing that she needed it. "I love you," she whispered from in his arms. And everything was all right.


Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

short stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short stories

Short Stories

Solitude [Short stories]

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

short stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short Stories

Short stories

Short Stories

Solitude [Short stories]

Recommend Documents