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Falling In

By: Maiyeko



I'd fallen into house around 11 just after a late breakfast and helping out on the ward. My hours on the medical shift had decreased a lot after a situation with the doctor, and the riots due to heightened security. Units 14, 15, and 17 having been segregated, no longer had rec time together so that made for fewer fights. For a while, it seemed like I was doing nothing other than prepping injuries. The time I spent with the prisoners on watch had been cut in half. 

Author was prisoner number 145896D. When I started, he'd been on watch for seven months but his condition hadn't changed. Most in the program lasted only eight weeks before it became obvious that the true reason for them being there was to die. Author had been arrested on a string of petty crimes like theft and breaking and entering, but like so many of us without the right attorney, he'd ended up on the farm. He was young, more cute than handsome, and more soft than rugged - a boy like him never had a chance in this place. It wasn't long before the taunts started, his first day in fact. By the third night an older gentleman in his 50's approached him on the yard and told him to transfer into his house. "You just be sweet to me" he'd said "and no one will bother you." Jackson was an old lifer and knew the game. No one would mess with him because of his age and two because he had connections for getting in the best shit from the outside. Fuck with Jackson and he'd fuck with your supply. Through that, he'd established himself as a man.

For whatever reason, Jackson had propositioned Author to crash in his place. There was something that he'd found attractive and wanted to protect. Jackson had never taken a wife so it was something of a surprise that he'd considered it. Maybe like me he'd just started feeling lonely. With the question being out, inmates backed off and Author had gained a false sense of security. I'd seen him before he'd come to the ward but he wasn't someone I'd take a second look at. After a month, when no move was made to settle in with Jackson, Renaldo Padella made a different proposition and Author became a sperm bank for most of the men on unit 17.

It's hard to not feel sorry. The guy came into the system young and played tough, but was too cute for his own good. What he failed to realize was that it didn't matter how tough he was, he needed someone on his side, and guys like him rarely got to choose who'd have their backs. A typical story in this place, so it is of no consequence. 

Around 2, some of the brothers from unit 14 braved the cold for rec and took to the courts. Their game of B-ball tended to get pretty intense and I wanted in figuring it was a good way to clear my head. I was being guarded by Jimmy the Jam who had the meanest cock on the block. "Better watch your ass College, I'd hate to make you my bitch!" Jam always liked to get in real close to intimidate other players with what he was packing. That bulge was always a prominent spectacle in our scrub like uniforms, especially since we only wore boxers or nothing at all underneath. Briefs for whatever reason, were not allowed. 

I faked Jam with a turn to the right, broke out left and twisted around to drop a 3 pointer. Swoosh. Pading, pading, the ball bounced under the net having caught nothing but air. I got in a few more shots like that despite the distraction of Jams cock constantly riding my ass. Admittedly I had a thing about his cock rubbing against me on the sly, a few times I'd called out because I'd almost gotten hard. He was testing me because I'd let him cross a boundary in the past. Jam was mean and calculating, the kind of men I'd been around for so long at that point a part of me had accepted it as the way men were supposed to be. Jimmy was the total opposite of Author, one was someone a mother could love, the other someone you just fucked, though getting fucked in here, is really not much of an option at all if anyone ever finds out.

Jam played the macho shit pretty hard and got far too aggressive for a yard game with nothing on the table - lucky for me because I was pretty low on smokes and my team lost. After that, some of the players hit the showers and I went back to fall in at my place to make sure the new cellie hadn't arrived early and decided to go through my shit. Just to be certain, I straightened things up and rolled most of my reads back to my side of the room. I also had a box of snacks, with a couple of emergency smokes, and a small jar of hair oil tucked away at the bottom just in case I was ever included in a lockdown and couldn't get commissary. That box was worth fighting for. 

A convict often carried his life in a cigar box. Pictures, smokes, dope, and hair product which doubled as lube. Mine hadn't been used except for solo sessions which I'd had time to enjoy since my last cellie had been transferred to Beaumont. I was happy that he'd left. They always seemed to pair me with obnoxious Bush loving country boys that talked constantly about pussy. The last guy would never shut up about the snatch, the more I tried to block him out, the more he wanted to get in my face about it. He'd even gone so far as to pull out his cock and call me a faggot one night. "You must like dick or something. You gonna be my Black Bitch!"

He spent a few days on the ward after that. 

When the guards had asked what happened to him I told them he must have fell. There was no contradiction to my version of the event, so they took him away laughing knowing full well what had happened. Lucky for me, I was in good with enough of them and could get away with shit. A lot of recruits were students and knew I'd done 'College' as they called me. After that incident, part of me wished I'd have just kicked his ass earlier and more often just to get some privacy and to shut him up. He'd put up a little fight, which made my dick hard so I could see there was no way he could be the man of any house. For the most part at least, he never pushed me over the edge again and respected a certain boundary of disrespect. Still, the problem was that I despised the prison culture of gender.

It must have been about three months after that I noticed all his talk about pussy had subsided. At first I didn't make anything of it, figuring that he'd either willingly gotten dicked, or was dicking someone. Since he was in my place, I thought none of the brothers would mess with him, even Renaldo Padella as notorious as he was for taking some White ass wasn't going to fuck with someone staying in another man's house. I hadn't considered just how much of a prick Jimmy the Jam was. 

I forget exactly when it happened, but I'd came back to find Jam fucking the literal shit out of country boy. He must have been used to the size of Jam's cock by then because he wasn't yelling out, or trying to get away. Just taking it. I was pissed not because Jam was ramming him, but because it was against the code, against the status I'd built, and stunk up the fucking cage. You don't fuck a "Man's" cellie unless he lets you. Like an idiot I gritted my teeth and just stood there while Jam's ebony blade dug into country boy, hitting hard the spots that most men could never reach. Defeated I backed out to let him finish the disrespect he'd passed onto my house, ashamed because I'd thought of fucking country boy myself, afraid that I'd always thought myself straight and didn't buy into that if I'm the man on top shit. I shouldn't have let Jimmy cross that boundary because after that was when he started testing and fucking with me on the courts.

One day I was really tired after having pulled a long shift on the ward – this was sometime later. The doctor let me take a long shower in the guards' locker, the stipulation being that he of course had to watch over me. The trade off was acceptable. I made a show of undressing slowly, stretching, and bending over so that he could get a good look. I'd stand up slowly and then hoped my cock would get slightly erect. It was difficult at first but I got used to it and could think about what put me in the slammer in the first place to get juiced. I hadn't fucked a guy except twice when I was younger, but the longer I remained in prison, the less opposed to the idea I'd become. I thought about Mathew Farinelli under the warmth of the falling water. We'd gotten into an argument about something and he pushed me calling me a pussy. I became furious and knocked him to the ground.

"Fuck you" I glared. 

"Yeah, you wish you could fuck me. You've never even had a girl have you?" The question came like a dare and I froze in fear realizing that I had an erection, and that yes I wanted to. There was no sex with a girl at that point, even though I said I had hundreds of times. So, I fucked him with spit right there in the alley rough and hard to prove that I wasn't the fag. We were friends one minute, then fighting and fucking the next. Out of shame Mathew never talked about it, and eventually came back around. It happened again like that, that 'I taught him a lesson' about who the fag was. The second time after I'd finished putting a load inside him, I felt sick. It dawned on me that the reason we had our second fight was because he was mad at me for taking what he would have given had I asked. I got scared and never hung out with him again. Soon after that I creamed the first girl who told me no, and got her pregnant. A fat bitch named Pam DeSoto that moved away. I never even saw the kid. 

My attention turned from memories of the outside back to the doctor. I tried to see if there was something in him that I liked, something like Pam or something like Mathew. I figured he wanted to fuck me or be fucked, I wasn't sure which nor how to go about it. I was certain he knew I was taking supplies and would allow it as long as he could watch. He kind of smiled when my eyes met his and I sort of guessed that he eventually wanted to ride my Black cock. He just seemed like the type who'd do anything for a big dick - even throw away a career. For me the question remained, if I wanted to spend an entire 20 years without any form of human contact. The stupid part to that was that I'd never known true intimacy. Mathew was the closest I'd felt to it. Guys could get everything behind bars it seemed except condoms, proper lube, and intimacy. 

After I finished up, the water had opened my pores which felt good. I dried off intentionally slow, and moved close to the doc and indicated that he could touch my dick if he wanted. He looked toward the door afraid that the guard outside might decide to come in, but we both knew he wouldn't. In fact he was well aware that the doc wanted to take privilege with me. It wasn't like that was my first shower in the locker with him keeping watch. 

The doc got down on his knees and took my dick in one hand, lifted it up and stared at the bottom of my shaft, turned it to the right, left, then back to the right. He took the other hand, sandwiched the top of my cock and angled it down to the floor allowing his hand to drag the full length of me, only when he got to the head, he held it and continued the inspection. He pursed his lips and sucked in air through his teeth "yeah, that's a beauty" he said. "You've got the cock of a stallion. Look at those thick veins" he paused looking up at me. 

His eyes were a deep green, he had dark hair, and I noticed for the first time, a hairy chest that was a bit too manly for me and in total contrast to the soft cooing he made about my groin. He smiled and turned his attention to my balls which still needed drying. They hung heavy but were full like balloons, which the doc seemed to like and tasted the moisture with his tongue. It felt good to have my cock on his face, and to see him servicing my nuts. My dick twitched and acted as though it would stretch out into its full glory, but I was too nervous, and the situation felt trite. After a minute or so he took my shaft into his mouth and sucked me for another three before he stopped and gave up since I didn't get fully erect.

"We'd better go," he said. "I don't want to end up looking for another job." He offered to try to get me transferred for work at a special hospital for inmates, but I wasn't interested. 

"Next time" I told him "I'll just take a shorter shower so we can have more time." But next time never came. After that the doctor pretended that nothing had happened between us, so it was a while before I'd gotten another private shower and when I did, he wasn't interested in playing. He basically blew me off when I walked over to him after having made very short work of cleaning myself. I'd noticed his dick was hard but was confused as to what was going on. "I really want you to suck this man" but he just sort of grinned, played coy and gestured to my rags as though I hadn't just offered him my ass on a platter. My prick turned to stone, and inside I was daring him to push me further. 

Defeated, I left to return to quarters a little pissed but realized he hadn't given me my work schedule for the following week so I doubled back before checking with the next station. When I approached the lockers the guard that was posted had disappeared. I figured maybe he had left since no prisoners were ever back there except me and two others who cleaned. I pressed my way and opened the door closing it very slowly so that it would not make a sound thinking that I'd heard a voice. My heart was pounding against my chest when I recognized the familiar "you've got the cock of a stallion. Yeah, that's a beauty, just slide it in real slow." 

Walking as soft as I could I peeked around the corner and saw the doc, pants around his ankles, and the guard behind him bent slightly at the knees to lower himself to get into the doc's ass. When the head popped in I could almost feel it myself. The guys cock was much thicker and a little longer than mine, so doc winced and was instantly fucked hard up onto his tiptoes. 

The sound was a rhythmic clap, clap, clap that was sending shock waves through the doctor's hips. I could only imagine how it was tearing him up inside from the look on his face. The guard grimaced and slumped onto the doctor's back with one hand on his shoulder and another holding him hard by the waste to keep him from running. And, it did look like the doctor wanted to run off that cock to save his ass but it had already been tenderized, claimed and renamed "sloppy fuck hole."

"Yeah" the guard groveled. "Take that cum up your sloppy fuck hole."

I could see the great Dr. Swan sweating and gasping for air. "Please" he stuttered. "Take it out! P, ple please it fucking hurts." But the guard meant to finish what he had started and did so in loud grunts. Swan collapsed on the floor in front of him, turned around to reach for the guard's leg, but was pushed away and down to the floor.

"Get your hands off me faggot! You ain't nothing but a bitch!" The doc curled into a fetal position and the guard made his exit out the other end of the room which was usually locked. Part of me felt that he'd gotten what he deserved for picking the guard over me (the convict), another part was hard as steel. As far as I knew they could have known each other on the outside and I'd just witnessed their kink. 

"Whatever" I thought, and went back to my cage. 

Thinking back to that actually got me a little aroused. I was slowly fingering my cock and wanted some privacy so I put up the sheet. I figured I could jack off before the new cellie hit the floor, or read since they tended to be brought up around 5. 

The estimate was wrong. He actually showed up earlier. I found myself drifting in and out of dream images that went through my head. I'd even had a fantasy about fucking the doctor hard and rough, only he started off as a woman named Vanessa, but then her vagina turned into an ass hole that locked my penis in place. The only way I could get free was to come. When she turned around I saw it was Swan, hairy chest like a mangy dog – from dream to a nightmare.

The sound of someone sitting on the other bed is what woke me. The new guy arrived and had already started things off on the wrong foot by ignoring and disrespecting the sheet. "You don't ignore a man's sheet" I started saying without looking to see who was there.

"Sorry." The voice was unexpectedly soft and tiny, the apology was a shock, and the fact that I had an obvious erection somewhat embarrassing. If he was fish he would get used to the sight of hard dicks soon enough was the notion. His best hope was to stay in my place so at least none of them would be coming at him other than Jimmy the Jam, and at that point I would have let him have him for a pack.

"You College, right" he spoke. "I heard about you. Thirty for violent sex assault, and armed robbery." 

"Great" I remember mumbling, thinking the guy sounded like a fag retard. I turned to face him. His soft features came into focus slowly, his dark hair, almond eyes, and golden skin. It dawned on me that the accent was actually Asian and not hair-lip queer. 

Over the next few weeks, he wasn't a nuisance like past cellies. He preferred to read at the same time I did, and even turned me on to a book called "Gods in Alabama" about a White chick dating a Brotha. We talked softly at night, sometimes about cars, women, and even engineering. It had been a while since I'd spoke in future tense which was nice. We laughed, showered, arranged our work schedules to maximize our time and started taking meals together as well. It wasn't long before the word on the block was that I'd taken a wife.

Chet was smart and clever, and perhaps knew more about me in a short period of time than my own family. But then what did we have but time to share in each other's story? He didn't ask if I did it, but what happened. "A bitch hit me and I fucked her" I replied. "It was just that simple." At that moment I didn't particularly feel like sitting on some analytical sofa while he drew a connection between sex and violence. I was trying to move beyond the person I had been.

"You still fighting that alley." Chet murmured. I laughed at that, but heard the sound as though a teleprompter had just displayed queue the track. He let it slide knowing that I didn't want to get into it, and I left after an uncomfortable silence.

Jam was all in my face about Chet on the court asking if the Asian boy liked being my bitch and taking Black cock. He jammed his dick against my ass when he said that so I pummeled him. He struck back. The friendly game suddenly became rough so Jam wanted to put something on the table. I claimed I didn't have anything for the challenge, but he told me I did and he wanted it. Just like that, in one stupid move, Chet's ass was on the line and he didn't even know it. Jam had called it, if I said it wasn't mine then that meant my friend was up for grabs. Since I wasn't working as much as I used to for the doctor, I couldn't get the supplies that I needed to settle that sort of thing, it didn't help that the doc was more interested in getting used in the lockers. 

Jackson liked Chet and probably would protect him if he fell into his place, but that would mean I'd have to play pimp or swap with Jackson's ugly ass cellie who was a prick. A nice one but a prick just the same. The only option I had was to beat Jam on the court, or beat him man to man.

The game was close, swoosh. I kept trailing a few points behind. He'd inch ahead but I was good at the 3 pointers, it was the tight shots that I had a problem with. Pading, pading, the guys were hustling on both sides as if THEY had some ass at stake. Swoosh, I tried to rush for another 3 but Jam drew an intentional foul. After that he was all in my face and begging for a fight. "Yeah, I'm gonna pop that pussy." He made the free throw so his boys only needed one more to win it.

When I got back into place, Chet had gotten a visitor's basket from commissary and offered me fruit. I managed a thank you but told him to enjoy his givings. "You sure? I got sweets too. I want the chocolate but you have some."


Falling In



"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot."

I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer."

He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves. He didn't look anything like his sister, my Aunt Eileen—she was pale and blonde, sort of plain—he looked dramatic. "I hope he's not a snob."

I pushed through the crowd and into the terminal looking around for the escalators my mom had told me would be a good place to watch for him. I scanned the people standing nearby, but none of them looked like the face on the screen of my phone. I checked it again, and then read the bio beside it.

"Jamie Doyle was born in Wexford, Ireland. He has published eight novels including Streets of Arklow, Over the Wire, and Marrakesh which won the Genneson Literary Award in 2002. Mr. Doyle has lived in Boston, Belize, and Cairo. He currently makes his home in Dublin."

"Sounds like a big deal," I thought. "God, I hope he's not full of himself."

My Aunt Eileen wasn't really my aunt, but I'd called her that my whole life. She was my mother's best friend from college. They'd lived together for a few years before my mom got married, and stayed in close touch even after Eileen moved halfway across the country. I loved Aunt Eileen; she was a lot of fun, full of energy. She often visited in the summer when she was off from teaching, and when she did, the house filled with infectious laughter.

I'd never met her brother, but I'd heard her talk about him. She'd said they were very different, he was more serious and reserved, but the two of them had always been close. I had no idea what to expect, which made me apprehensive. He would be in my car for the entire two hour drive to my mom's. What if we found nothing to talk about? I wasn't normally self-conscious or doubtful, but I definitely felt the beginnings of nervous butterflies in my stomach. Maybe his handsome face had something to do with that.

"Excuse me. Are you Charlotte?"

I jumped and turned to the voice at my elbow. It was him, and my first thought was that the photo hadn't done him justice; he was gorgeous. It took me a few seconds to recover from my surprise.

"I— Yes. Hi. You're Mr. Doyle? I'm sorry, I didn't know the flight had come in already. Were you were waiting a while?" I put my phone into my bag hoping he hadn't seen what I'd been looking at when he'd walked up.

"Not at all, we just now arrived." He smiled and I felt like my insides were liquifying. His accent was fantastic. He radiated cool. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No, I just—wait—," I said, perplexed, "How did you know who I was?"

He smiled again. "My sister told me to look for a girl with long brown hair, around a meter and a half tall, with a slim build and pretty face. An excellent description, now that I've seen you." He peered at me a little closer. "Though she failed to mention your lovely green eyes."

For a second I stared at him, slightly undone. It seemed impossible he was flirting with me, but his compliment made me blush. I watched the way his face creased when he smiled, noticed his soft brown eyes, and the silver threaded through his dark hair, and decided he was even better looking than he'd been ten seconds ago, if that was even possible. 

"I appreciate you coming out for me. I hope it wasn't too much of a bother." He put out his hand. "Please call me Jamie."

I shook his hand, regaining my composure—though the heat that transferred from his hand to mine zipped straight through me, ending deep in my belly where a little thrill of arousal stirred. "It was easy, and I'm glad to do Aunt Eileen a favor."

The drive was smooth for the first hour. We talked the entire way, about family, the places we lived, and then about what we did—his writing and my three years of college. I was surprised to find him very easy going and comfortable to be around. He was remarkably down-to-earth. I felt a little embarrassed to have worried he'd be a snob. When he talked about his work, there was obvious affection for the craft of writing, but he was modest about his own publications. If he was such a big deal in the literary world, it hadn't gone to his head. 

We hit traffic on the highway and eventually came to a complete stop. There must have been an accident ahead of us, because no one was moving. We sat for twenty minutes at a dead stop, but I was enjoying his company so much I was almost sorry when at last the knot of cars began to loosen and traffic started to creep forward again.

We were about twenty minutes from my mom's house when the topic of conversation got more personal. I found out he'd never been married and wasn't currently (and hadn't been in a while) in a relationship. 

"To be honest, I haven't got the time for anything...substantial," he said. "I wouldn't be much use as a partner these days. I'm away more than I'm home, and when I'm home I'm locked in my office with my head in a story, scribbling away. But what about you, you must have a queue of fellows hoping to catch your eye."

"Hardly!" I laughed. "I've dated a little, and I did have a boyfriend for a few months."

"But...?" Jamie prompted.

"But, I broke up with him. He was a great guy and all," I said. "I mean, he was smart and funny and good looking, but...I just felt like he wanted me to be someone else a lot of the time. He was always telling me not to say stuff, or not to talk politics or whatever. It bothered him if I knew something he didn't, or if I had a strong opinion that was different from his."

"Hmm, well, if you're smarter than he is," Jamie said. "He probably felt threatened." 

"Yes!" I said, excitedly. I'd thought the same thing. "That's exactly what it was; I was threatening. How stupid is that? He actually accused me of trying to make him look dumb in front of his friends." I couldn't keep the indignant tone out of my voice. "It's not like I was competing or showing off or anything." 

"I'm sure you weren't." He laughed softly, almost to himself, and I felt a stab of fear that he was laughing at me. When I looked over he turned his face toward me, smiling. 

"I'm not laughing at you, love," he said, putting his hand on my arm to reassure me. "I'm laughing because I went through the same thing at your age, except I was the boy with the fragile ego." He removed his hand, but a pleasant warmth lingered where he'd touched me. 

"I went with a girl for a while. I was crazy about her, but I was woefully unprepared. She was much stronger a force than I could handle. A marvelous, enchanting, seductive force but I couldn't have hoped to understand it or even appreciate it fully, though I thought I did." He laughed again, remembering, and was quiet for a few seconds. "I was in over my head. I'd wager your man was as well."

"My friends thought I was stupid to argue with him," I said. "They were all 'if you really love him, you'll want to make him happy'. They'd turn themselves inside out to suit their boyfriends. Maybe I'm just selfish, but that sounds like total bullshit to me." I felt my face go red, partly from the accidental swear and partly because I was getting pissed off all over again.

"Indeed," Jamie said after a brief silence. "I'm sure you're better off without him, Charlotte. You deserve a man who can meet you on your level—all levels—without needing to be above you in some way. And, trust me, there are men who will find your self-confidence and intelligence very attractive. I know I do."

I looked at him, unable to hide my surprise. Had he meant what he'd said? Had he meant it in that way? Maybe he had been flirting with me earlier. Maybe he still was. He met my gaze with a small smile, but I wasn't sure how to interpret it. I was too chicken to say anything, and I didn't find my nerve before we arrived at my mom's house a few minutes later.

When I heard Jamie and I were leaving the same day, I immediately offered to drive him to the airport, since I was going back to school in that direction anyway. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning when he accepted my offer. The thought of another couple of hours alone with him was enough to keep me in a dull but constant state of arousal.

Throughout the weekend we had brief conversations, but there was nothing flirtatious or suggestive. I told myself I'd misinterpreted what he'd said at the airport and in the car and tried to leave it at that, except my eyes were drawn to him any time he was in the room, and more than once he saw me looking at him, but before I could look away he'd smile a small, sly smile that made my whole body go hot.

He and I took a walk on Sunday, down to the lake following a well-worn trail through the trees and down to the edge of the water. It was overcast, a little chilly, and to the west the sky was dark and threatening. I said if we were quick we'd be able to make it all the way around before it started to rain.

We walked slowly, and talked about the places we'd grown up and what we loved about them. We talked about cities we'd spent time in, and what our ideal spot to live would look like. It was all very casual, but my heart was beating fast just for being alone with him Jamie. I could feel how aroused I was, an anticipatory ache building inside me.

"I've been thinking about what you told me the other day," he said as we rounded the northern most end of the lake. "About the advice your girlfriends gave you." He glanced at me and I nodded, curious to see what he had on his mind. "About changing yourself for someone else, for their idea of who you're supposed to be.

"I think it would be a crime if you felt you had to change for someone else, Charlotte. I've watched you these past two days, and you're such an attractive girl; smart, self-confident, fearless." I felt myself go pleasantly warm. 

"I know a lot of women believe they can't be whole without a man. Personally, I think that's—as you say—bullshit." He smiled when I looked at him. "I would guess you do too."

He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, squinting at the clouds. A fine mist had been falling, but it was starting to turn to real rain. "I think we'd better step it up a pace," he said, and started walking a little more quickly.

We'd only gotten twenty paces along before the sky opened completely. Cold rain poured down on us. I squealed with surprise. "We've still got a half a mile to go," I said as we both broke into a jog. "We're going to be soaked." I struggled with the hood of my jacket, trying to pull it over my head.

"Is there somewhere to shelter?" Jamie asked, looking around. There were no buildings on this side of the lake, only a dense swatch of pine and spruce trees bordering the northern side of the lake. "Over there?" He pointed and without another word, we both put our heads down and ran for the cover of the trees.

We were soaked by the time we made it under the dark branches of the trees. My hair and face were streaming and my clothes clung to me, wet and cold and heavy. I ran my hand over my face to clear the rain from my eyes and looked over at Jamie.

He stood with his arms held awkwardly from his side, his jacket dark with rain, water dripping from his fingertips. He looked at me and we both burst into laughter. We were panting from having run so fast. For a few seconds we just stood laughing, breathing hard, and dripping onto the soft ground beneath us.

I wrung out the bottom edge of my skirt, and plucked at the fabric of my top, trying to draw the cold cotton away from my skin. I could feel that the water had soaked through my thin jacket and shirt. I would've been surprised to find a dry square inch of fabric. I looked up at Jamie. His smile was huge. 

"I haven't run that hard in ages," he said, shaking his head. Still laughing, he ran his hands through his wet hair, sending a stream of water down the back of his jacket. He looked over at me, still a little breathless, and I felt my head swim a little at the sight of his face, wet with rain, grinning so much that the creases at the corner of his eyes joined with the little curves around his mouth.

I backed in, closer to the trunk of a tree, hoping for a little more shelter. The thick branches of the pines spread out above us, creating a space that was strangely intimate. Water collected on the overhead branches where it dripped, cold and heavy, onto the tops of our heads. The air smelled of pine resin and wet earth, and the rain was one solid noise around our shelter. Once we'd gotten over our initial surprise and recovered from the mad dash out of the rain, we were silent for a few long minutes, both of us busy wringing water from our sleeves. 

"I'm soaked through," Jamie said. He'd unzipped his jacket and was examining his wet shirt. "I couldn't be wetter if I fell into the ocean." 

"I feel like I did fall in," I replied. I wrung water from my long hair and ran my fingers over it to try to smooth it down. I was aware of Jamie looking at me as I did. When I looked up, he smiled.

He took a step toward me and reached out, pushing a lock of wet hair away from my eyes. "Ah, but Charlotte," he said. His fingertips grazed my temple as he tucked the stray hair behind my ear, and I froze, as a wave of heat spread through me. "Even soaking wet you're beautiful." 

I stayed frozen for a second, my heart suddenly beating faster. He was so close, and so attractive. He tucked another strand of hair behind my ear and slid his hand down my cheek and under my chin, holding my face gently as his eyes searched mine. I had no doubts about his feelings; there were plain on his face. 

"When I said I found you attractive, I meant it," he said after a while. "To me, there's nothing more attractive than an intelligent and beautiful woman with opinions she's not afraid to voice. I like a woman who knows what she wants." He looked at me, his face serious, and I felt a delightful shiver pass through me.

I wanted him, but for the moment all I could do was stare at him in disbelief as he bent and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me once very softly and as he drew back, a sudden, sharp ache flared inside me. I felt momentarily light, like I'd been lifted from the ground. I reached out and moved toward him in one motion, grasped the front of his jacket, and kissed him.

For just a moment I didn't hear the rain, didn't feel the cold weight of my drenched clothes, just the softness and the heat of his lips against mine. He responded, kissing me back, our lips meeting passively at first, then more intentionally. We kissed slowly and carefully, and my whole body buzzed with arousal. I felt it in my breasts and belly, and lower down as wet heat built inside my pussy.

His mouth was so warm and soft against mine, so gentle it made me feel like I'd never been kissed before. This was nothing like other kisses I'd had, it was like they had been practice, a warm-up for the real thing: for this. And I wanted more already. I thought I'd never wanted anything else so much before. I ached for it. My heart was beating fast again, as fast as it had beaten while I'd been running from the rain.

I moved closer to him and angled my head, inviting him to kiss me more deeply. His mouth opened against mine and I felt his tongue testing and searching. I let it slip between my lips and when it touched mine, I clutched at his jacket lapel. He drew back, maybe thinking I was trying to push him away, and looked at me, concerned.

"No, don't stop," I said. I took his hand and laid it over my breast. His fingers flexed immediately and he studied my face for a moment, clearly surprised.

"Oh love," he said. "Your heart's beating so fast." A lock of hair fell over his temple, a bead of rainwater gathering at its point. I watched it swell and finally drip, vanishing as it soaked into the wet fabric of my shirt. "Like a little bird's wings," he said as he brought his mouth back to mine.

We kissed again, my hand over his, resting on my breast. He stepped me back a pace and pressed himself against my body, dropping his mouth to my neck. I felt the sudden solidity of the tree trunk behind my back and then the searing heat of his tongue on my cold skin.

"You taste like the rain," he murmured as he kissed my throat. "Soft and clean."

I felt the pressure of his lips against my skin, the throb of my pulse beneath it and I couldn't help but moan. His fingers stroked my breast, sending ripples of pleasure through my whole body. His other hand slid down my hip, gathering the fabric of my skirt upward until he could move his hand beneath the hem. There was the shock of the cold fabric dripping onto my bare thigh and then the slight heat of his palm as it spread out over my skin.

As his hand made its way up and between my thighs I had a moment of panic. Did I want this? Should I want it? Did it bother me that he was twice my age? Did it bother me I'd only known him three days? Did it bother me that his sister was someone I'd come to think of as a member of my family?

All questions faded from my mind as his fingers moved between my thighs and curved around my sex. The crotch of my panties was the one place the rain hadn't soaked, but as his fingers slid over the fabric, pressing up against my pussy, I could tell I was wet from excitement. He stroked for a few seconds while his mouth continued to explore my neck and throat, trailing kisses. I jumped when he bent his fingers, applying pressure, and then my knees went and I slid down, pressing myself even harder against his hand in the process. I squealed, partly from surprise, but more from the sudden streak of pleasure that zipped through me.

"I've got you," Jamie said as both hands moved to catch me. He straightened, holding me by the waist, and looked at me. He lifted my arms and positioned them to wrap around his neck. "Hold onto me, love."

I knitted my fingers at the back of his neck as his hand drew my skirt up again. Once more I felt the heat and pressure of his hand and realized with a thrill he was slipping it inside my panties. A moment later his finger slid over my vulva and I gasped as the sensation made my head swim. He stroked slowly without slipping between the outer lips, watching my face. Then his finger dipped inside and continued stroking lightly, teasingly enough that I found myself moving my hips in response, unconsciously trying to direct his touch.

"My God, you're wet," He said. "Maybe you did fall into the ocean after all."

He smiled a knowing and unbelievably sexy smile and shifted his weight slightly. I felt his fingers fan out, pressing the outer lips of my vulva apart, and then the barest touch as he dragged a finger along the length of my sex. I bit my lip and waited as he moved with agonizing slowness, circling over and around, searching and exploring, but steering clear of my clit. I squirmed each time his finger moved close, stimulating the flesh around it, and he would focus there for a while, moving even more slowly than before until he had me moaning with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

I had one clear thought as he touched me: this man was skilled. The boys I'd had sex with previously hadn't known what they were doing, at least, it hadn't felt anything like this.

I could feel my body tightening inside as he navigated my most private landscape, urging me a little closer to the peak. How many times he did this, bringing me closer and closer, I don't know. Time was no longer a concept I needed or cared to attend to. I felt the cold rain, the wind that stung my exposed legs, the rough wood behind my back, but they were dim sensations, nothing like the feeling spinning inside me, tethered to the motions Jamie's fingers made over my pussy.




Falling In



When he finally applied direct pressure to my clit, I groaned and clutched at him. I cried out something unintelligible and buried my face in his neck. It was wet and warm and smelled like heaven. I writhed against him as he teased me further, lifting his finger from the one place that would send me over, his finger roaming for a while, letting me calm down, and then it returned, coaxing another groan from me.

"Should I make you come?" he asked after a while, pressing his mouth to my ear. "Do you want to?"

He slid his finger lower and entered me, pushing firmly, reaching as deeply as he could.

"Oh God," I said, but I couldn't say anything else. The pleasure shifted, focused entirely at the entrance to my vagina, and it was exquisite.

He pressed another finger inside me and fucked me in a slow but steady rhythm. He bumped my clit at random moments and the pleasure was like a live thing inside me. It rolled and surged, demanding attention, pushing the breath from my lungs and making me groan like I'd never heard myself groan before.

"I'd like to make you come, Charlotte," he said softly. "Just like this, with my fingers inside you so I can feel it when you finally reach the crest...and stumble over."

Inside me, his fingers twisted and spread, while his thumb grazed my clit with maddeningly ineffectual pressure. His breath was coming fast, but mine was faster. I panted and whined and dug my fingers into his hair.

"Do you want to come, love?" he whispered. "Charlotte?"

I groaned, sounding like an animal. "Yes, yes, Jamie. Yes, make me come."

His thumb hovered over my clit, but didn't move. Meanwhile his fingers fucked in and out of me with a steady rhythm, each forward thrust of his wrist urging me a little closer to my orgasm.

I panted, calling on God and Jesus and Jamie alternately, finally resorting to a pleading cry. "Please, please. I want to come. Please!"

Finally his thumb moved with purpose, and pleasure spread through me like it was filling my veins, reaching every part of my body. Immediately I could feel my insides tense, ready for release, sensations of agony and pleasure fighting for prominence. I clutched him tighter still, practically clawing at his scalp, moaning curses and praises.

He whispered my name, encouraging me. "Oh Charlotte," he said. "That's it." His voice was at my ear, soft and urgent. "That's it, darling. I can feel it, you're almost there."

I groaned and keened as his thumb stroked and his fingers moved inside me, but my orgasm stayed just out of reach.

"Jamie, please," I begged. I squirmed against his hand, panting. "I'm so close, so close."

"You're there," he whispered. "Come, love."

I gasped as the first strong pulse pulled from deep inside me. I felt squeezed from within, my lungs unable to draw in breath, all sound and vision dulling for a moment as my orgasm forced my other senses to retreat. For that moment there was nothing but the agonizing promise, and then, finally, the relief as a series of frantic spasms moved through me.

I shook and moaned Jamie's name, long and tremulous. I felt the presence of his fingers inside me as my muscles contracted rhythmically around them again and again. I whimpered, still coming, but less intensely, and he made an appreciative noise against my ear.

"Oh Charlotte," he sighed, "that's lovely."

I let my head forward and buried my face in his neck again, still shaking inside. I was so overwhelmed I thought I might cry. When he finally slid his hand from between my legs he pulled me close and squeezed me tight. He held me for a minute and I clung to him while my heart rate slowed. My body felt weak, but wonderful. As I leaned against him I became aware of the cold rain and wind again, my dripping hair and clothes, and then the motion of his hand as he moved it to the front of his trousers.

He shifted his body slightly, but kept one arm tight around my shoulders. His erection was plainly visible, the wet fabric of his pants draped over it so its length was clearly defined. I watched as he undid the button and pushed the zipper down. His cock strained as the fabric slackened and in a few seconds he had freed it and held it, his fingers around the shaft, and began to stroke it slowly.

"Open your shirt for me," he said. He let his arm drop from my shoulders and stepped back a little, his eyes flicking from my face to my chest. My fingers were cold and waterlogged, wrinkled on the pads, making it difficult to get the tiny plastic buttons through their holes. I was shivering too, maybe from the cold, maybe not. Jamie was patient, his hand moving leisurely over his erection as he waited.

I parted the front of my blouse. I was indeed soaked to the skin; the thin white cotton bra I wore was translucent, framing my hard nipples. The fastener was in the back, so I drew the stretchy material down and under my breasts, exposing them to the rain and Jamie's focused stare. His face was very serious, but a small smile turned the corners of his mouth, and he sighed. "Gorgeous," he said in a whisper. 

I ran a hand slowly over my breast and down between us. I closed my hand over his and followed the motion of his loose fist, my head swimming slightly. Together we stroked him and then he slid his hand from beneath mine and sighed as my fingers replaced his, resuming the rhythm we'd started. He brought his other hand up to cover my breast and leaned forward, his open mouth meeting mine. 

I let him kiss me, slightly passive, as he stroked my breast, and I focused on varying my strokes, experimenting to see what he wanted. I stroked fast and then slow, squeezed him tight and then trailed my fingers lightly, searching for the magic combination of pressure and speed. When I found it, his mouth left mine and he looked at me, his handsome face showing obvious arousal. I thrilled inwardly and broke into a smile. I leaned to kiss him again and saw his eyes flutter closed. 

A moment later I had dropped to my knees, adjusting the angle of my stroking hand, now returning to a more measured and delicate touch. I shifted around so I was as comfortable as I could be kneeling on the wet ground and brought my mouth to his cock. He drew in a sharp breath and I realized he was holding it, watching my lips moving nearer, waiting. I closed my eyes and brought the tip to my lips, dragging it across them. I flicked my tongue out and tasted him, salty and earthy, and continued to paint my lips with the fluid seeping out.

He let go of his held breath when I finally parted my lips and drew the head of his cock in, only a little bit, but it was enough to make him sway. I looked up at him, delighted to see an expression of lustful anticipation. I held his gaze as I rolled my tongue around and around, drawing him in a little as I did, inching forward until I had the entire blunt head inside my mouth. I drew back and let it emerge from my lips with a silent pop and then repeated, taking him in slowly, my tongue doing the work.

"Good God, that's sexy," he said. 

I drew back to look up at him. "You want me to continue?" I asked, wanting to hear his voice and accent again.

"Oh yes," he said. His voice was lower, more emotional, but he still managed to sound in control. "God, yes. Please, please continue, my dear." I couldn't help but grin.

As I took him into my mouth again I stroked the length of him with my hand. He sighed appreciatively and I felt him grasp the branch of the tree just beside him for support. I gently drew the fabric of his trousers away from his scrotum and slid my fingers underneath. I worried my fingers were cold, but as I trailed them over his skin, and cupped his balls in my hand, I heard another sigh from above me and Jamie's hips surged forward slightly, inadvertently pushing his cock a little further into my mouth. I made a noise of surprise. He moaned.

The small part of my brain that could still process full, lucid thoughts was stuck on what had happened: Jamie had made me come. I'd asked him to, begged him even. His whispered encouragement still played in my head, thrilling me all over again. I channeled my excitement into the motion of my tongue, drawing him out long enough to drag the tip of my tongue along the slick underside of his shaft. Once—and he moaned my name. Twice—and he leaned forward and put his hand on the trunk of the tree for support. I looked up at him, and dragged my tongue upward once more before taking him back inside the warmth of my mouth.

He swore, letting his head drop. "Jesus, Charlotte, that's fucking fantastic." He was bent over me, braced against the tree, rain dripping from his hair and onto my face as I looked up at him. He was disheveled, but I couldn't help thinking, "Even soaking wet he's sexy." 

"I'd like a bit more of that, love." He reached down and put his hand gently on the back of my head. "Take me deeper."

I let him press me closer to him, taking his cock into my mouth a little at a time. I was nervous he'd want me to go all the way down—I'd tried that once and it was a disaster—but when I hesitated as I reached my limit I felt his hand relax. I'd only taken him half way, but if he was disappointed by that he hid it well. I heard him let out a long, low sigh as I drew my lips back and worked my way down again. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his penis as I sucked, gradually increasing the speed of my motions. His hand was still at the back of my head, still urging me forward, and I was able to take him a little deeper after a while. 

"Oh, that's marvelous," he said slowly, his voice full of admiration. "What a sweet mouth you have."

He straightened his back and slipped both hands into my hair. He pushed it away from my face and I knew he was watching me closely. It gave me shivers, his touch, his attention. I kept a steady rhythm with my hand and my mouth, gradually moving more quickly. Jamie's breathing was fast and I could hear low noises coming from deep inside him. I looked up without removing my mouth, without interrupting my rhythm. I met his eyes and he groaned, a big smile on his face.

His hands were on either side of my head, holding me gently as I bobbed forward and back. His grip tightened and then loosened as his arousal surged. I could tell he was getting closer to coming as his breathing grew harsher and he began thrusting forward, pushing himself into my mouth. I let go of his cock and hung onto the fabric of his trousers, letting him have control.

"I'm going to come, Charlotte," he said. His hips rocked more quickly, as he repeated it, almost chanting, sometimes with desperation, sometimes with admiration. His eyes were wild and his face showed strain. I closed my eyes for a minute to let his excited voice and ragged breathing fill my head. I vaguely felt the cold, the spongy ground under my knees, and the goosebumps all over my skin, but mostly I felt Jamie's thick cock fucking my mouth. 

"I'm coming," he said suddenly. He released my head from his grip and stepped back, taking his erection in a tight fist. He turned away slightly and started pumping fast, intending to shoot onto the ground, away from me. I had to scramble forward quickly. I reached for his hips and positioned myself, my mouth open and waiting. I looked up and met his eyes. "Holy Jesus," he whispered, looking awestruck but delighted. 

I stuck out my tongue and moved closer so that the forward motions of his pumping hand touched it. I watched and waited, my body tense with anticipation. When the first spurt hit my mouth and chin, I wasted no time. I pushed his hand away and took his cock into my mouth again, pulling him deep. I swallowed quickly and let his cock slide a little further, deeper than I'd ever had a cock in my mouth.

"Oh God," he moaned, "Oh God...Charlotte." 

I could feel him quivering against me. I felt his cock jump as he climaxed, his body tensing before each spurt. He swore, panting, and grasped my face in his hands, his cock still between my lips but no longer deep. I looked up at him, at the exhausted expression on his handsome face, and swallowed.

"Christ, girl," he said, still panting, "you...are a...marvel."

I drew back, smiling, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. He reached for my arm and brought me to my knees, kissing me as soon as his mouth could reach mine. He crushed me to him, the cold of his wet clothes shocking on my skin, and I felt his heart beating hard in his chest. We kissed for a minute and then he let me go, stepping back. Immediately I felt how cold my exposed breasts were, how cold I was all over. I slipped my bra back over my breasts and started buttoning my shirt. We were silent while we both rearranged our clothes.

"I hope that mud will come out," Jamie said, his eyes on my skirt. "I'd feel awful if it was ruined."

I looked down at the muddy patches on my skirt, and though ordinarily I would've been upset—it was one of my favorite skirts—it didn't seem like such a big deal if it was ruined. It had certainly been worth it.

The rain was still coming down, looking like it would never stop. "Should we just walk back?" I said. "I mean, we're already soaked."

Jamie agreed and we left the cover of the trees and headed for the path back to the house. We were soon dripping wet again, but the rain felt warmer now, or maybe I just felt satisfied. As we headed up the hill I could see my mom's face at the window and felt a little pang of guilt.

"You won't say anything, will you?" I asked. It was a stupid question, but I was suddenly nervous.

Jamie smiled. "What would I say, Charlotte? 'Mrs. Palmer, did you know your daughter can really suck a cock?' "

I giggled, thrilled by the whole thing. I was worn out and cold, but I was still aware of how much that phrase and his lilting accent turned me on.

Both my mom and Eileen were out of the house before we made it to the porch. They both spoke at once, with concern and surprise and, eventually, amusement. They bustled us inside and fussed over us, bringing towels and making hot tea. If they suspected anything had happened, other than a walk and the rain, they didn't show it.

Dinner that night was uncomfortable. Every time I looked at Jamie I felt the heat rise inside me. The one time he caught my eye I thought I was going to faint. I was distracted enough my mom commented on it, asking if I thought I was getting sick from being out in the rain, but Jamie was his usual, cool self. I couldn't help wondering if this kind of thing happened to him all the time. Somehow it didn't seem such a stretch to imagine, but most surprising was realizing I didn't mind if it was the case.

We said our goodbyes to my mom and Eileen in the morning, and for the most part we kept our conversation mundane, but it felt heavy with all the things we weren't saying. We were definitely skirting certain topics, avoiding mentioning yesterday at all. I wondered what was going through Jamie's mind. Was he happy about it? Did he regret it? Or was it no big deal?

I knew how I felt. I'd just had the most intense sexual experience of my life. Just thinking about any moment of that afternoon made me feel hot.

We were almost at the airport when Jamie cleared his throat and spoke.

"Charlotte, I just need to say I feel uncommonly lucky to have been with you yesterday. It was wonderful." I looked over at him, my heart thumping. "You are a treasure, my dear. And you're perfect as the girl you are. Some day you'll meet a man who sees that, who doesn't try to mold you into some ideal of his. And he'll be one lucky man."

Neither of us spoke again until I was pulling into the parking garage at the airport. I walked in with him, though it was totally unnecessary, not sure how to say goodbye or thanks...if "thank you" was even appropriate in this situation. I found myself wishing I'd thought to kiss him in the car, before we got out. Now we were in the crowded terminal and our goodbye would be less than intimate. But maybe it was better that way. It's not like we were a couple, and I didn't want to be clingy.

I stood off to the side while Jamie got his ticket at the desk. My heart sank a little, knowing he would head to his gate now, and I'd probably never see him again. I tried to just feel glad it had happened, and I was glad, but I wasn't quite over the intensity of it. I couldn't help wanting more. 

I watched him as he walked toward me, shuffling the tickets in his hands. "Can I borrow your mobile?" he asked me once he'd reached my side.

"My...phone?" I said slowly. I knew he had a cell phone of his own, so I was a little confused, but I fished it from the side pocket of my bag and handed it over.

"Thanks."

I watched him pressing buttons, curious, and a little frustrated I couldn't see exactly what he was doing. 

"In October," he said, "I will be...in New York...for a week." There were long pauses in his sentence as he concentrated on pressing the tiny buttons on my phone. "I could very easily...extend the trip...if you were interested in...seeing me."

I looked at him, excitement rising up inside me.

"No expectations," he said quickly, looking up. "But now," he said as he pressed a final key on my phone, switched it off and handed it back to me. "You have my number." 

I stared, and slowly my brain caught up: he'd programmed his number into my phone.

"I would love to see you again, but I'll understand if you'd rather not." He took a small step closer to me, looking me square in the eye. "And even if you do now, a lot can happen before October. I won't be at all offended if by then you find you have other plans." 

My heart was beating hard in my chest. I opened my mouth, but couldn't find any words to say, I just stared. Jamie pulled me close and hugged me tight. Just before he drew back he whispered, "Don't change, love." He kissed my cheek, turned, and walked off. 

I felt like I was cemented to the floor, like I weighed too much to move. I watched him walk away, my heart beating hard, my whole body humming with confused excitement. I looked down at my phone, as if seeing it for the first time. It had been my introduction to Jamie, and now it would be my link to him. 

I had to switch it on and see it for myself. It was there. It was real.

"October," I said out loud. "Holy shit."



Falling In



Trees rushed past Calene as she ran through the forest. The elf was not running from anyone, or even to anywhere, she was just running. The wind kicked up her hair, making it dance inthe wind, and she spun around and dodged branches with a grace only an elf could muster. She let out a yell of exhilaration as she leapt into the air, launching off of a log, over a large stream. The woman hadn't a care in the world, she had just finished her training into being a warrior, and all she had to do now was make her own bow. 

The woman wanted to use some exotic wood for the spine of her bow, so she had a satchel with her that held a little food, and a dagger in her belt for hunting. In her bag was also the finest bowstring in her village, awarded to her for completing her training at the top of her class. Caleneslowed to a stop as she came to a river, kneeling down and taking a sip of it's cold, refreshing water. the elf splashed a little in her face before standing and wading through the water to get to the other side before braking out into a run again.

It was almost an hour before the elf came to a stop again, noticing a steep-sloped pit in the middle of the forest. she took a few steps toward it before realizing that the edges could be brittle, and climbing a nearby tree; a branch hanging over the pit. The elvish woman tested the branch before stepping out onto it and looked down into the pit; a brilliant blue substance at the bottom. "It can't be..." She whispered to herself. She had heard legends of the Melma Vivente, but she had never thought it was true. She suspected it was just told by the elders in her village to keep the young ones from straying to far. The elf rummaged through her bag and took out a small apple and dropped it down into the pit; the vibrant red of the fruit making it easy to see. 

The apple hit the gel with a bloop being swallowed up without so much as a splash, simply disappearing. "Huh..." Calene muttered, turning to get off of her branch and climb down. The woman's satchel caught on a twig as she turned. "Oh, shit." She thought, the snag making her lose her balance. The elf fell down, towards the pit and, at the last second, grabbed a branch. "Oh thank the gods" she whispered, beginning to pull herself up when she heard a crack. "Fuck!" she shouted, the branch breaking as she fell fifteen feet into the pit. The gel slowed her fall, and thankfully it was not very deep, allowing her to stand up and wipe her face clean. "Eugh." she muttered, the slime only up to her knees, but it left her completely covered.

Calene waded to the edge of the pit as quickly as she could, remembering the stories of the gel that would take women captive and feed off of them. The stories never specified how they fed, simply saying 'their juices' but the elf did not want to find out. The elf took a step and, without warning, the smooth stone bottom of the pit became extra slippery, causing her to fall into the blue slime again. "Fuck!" she said as she sat up feeling something grab her foot and drag her to the middle of the hole. "Let go! Please!" she pleaded.

Her shouts were of no use, the gel forming into tendrils around her. "No! Please! I can't feed you!" she said, trying to wrench her foot away from its captor, fear beginning to flopw through the woman's veins as she quickly realized that the elder's stories were more than just tall tales, but true warnings of the forests' dangers . There was no response as the gel moved to her, the tentacles ripping at her clothing, soon leaving her naked in the warm slime. "Hey! what are you- Oh!" She said, feeling the gel begin to rub against her cunt. "Stop that! Please!" she said, struggling against the thick gel that held her. The more she struggled, the tighter the tendrils gripped her. Soon, Calene felt herself being lifted up into the air a little, her naturally hairless cunt free to the open air. "Please! Let me go!" She shouted, the rubbery grip of the tentacles seemed to ignore her pleas, a large mound of the goo rubbing against her most private place, causing the elf to let out a reluctant moan, involuntarily rubbing back against the gel. "Stop it! Please!" she gasped, the mound of gel suddenly collapsing without a trace, leaving her slightly suspended in by the tendrils. The woman whimpered in fear as she noticed her pussy was wet, though by the residue of the gel or her own enjoyment was impossible to tell; but it was enough for the blue liquid to get started.

"Ahhh!" she yelped, a thin tentacle, which seemed to get thicker as it went towards the large pool, began to approach her before it rubbed at her clit. Calene bit her lip at the touches, holding out a moan as she could feel the blue goo touching her in just the right spots. The gel sensed this and the tendril touying with her clit moved down and began to rub against her pussy. "No! nonono!" the elf repeated. Rubbing against a mound of the stuff, or being pleased by one of the tendrils was one thing, but to actually have the strange substance inside of her!?

The gel paused, gently rubbing her tight hole before pushing inside. The elf was not a virgin, however the only men she had taken to her bed were elves, and this... thing was far larger, causing the woman to wince. "Ohh... Stop it! Please! Let me go!" she pleaded to non-existent ears.

The slime pushed in and out of her cunt, the texture was like nothing she had ever felt before. It had the thickness of mud, but seemed to glide into her as though it were lubricated and had the strength of rubber. The woman was quickly torn from her thoughts as the gel slowly gained speed and size, rubbing at every little spot inside of her, filling every little nook and cranny. "Ohhh...." she groaned, reflexively rolling her hips against the gel's tendril with a moan, her tight slit beginning to ooze her juices which began to be absorbed by her captor. The elf began to moan, no longer able to hold the sound back, as another tendril moved in front of her face. Almost as soon as Calene noticed it, the tendril moved and pressed against her lips. "MMPH!" She shouted as the tentacle pushed inside.

The tendril in her mouth began to drip a watery substance, one that caused Calene to groan at its taste, her body heating up as the gel drugged her, making her more pliant so that it could feed from her more efficiently. She began to more actively rub against the tendril in her cunt, the living gel's secretions causing her to go into a frenzy. "Ohhh..." she moaned, slowly being lowered into the gel; she could no longer see the tendrils holding her, but she could feel the slime wrapped tightly around her. The woman let out a sharp gasp as she felt a third tendril pressing against her ass, the tight ring of muscles clenching at the touch. "mmph!" she moaned around the tendril in her mouth. She had never had anyone back there! 

Even without her permission, the appendage pressed against the warrior's ass, spreading her virgin ring of muscles, causing the elf to let out a scream, her virgin ass spread open as the slime moved in and out of all three of her holes, slowly widening them, stretching out her cunt and ass as the tendril in her mouth pushed down into her throat. Calene's cunt was dripping with her fluids which were gobbled up by the creature. "Mmm.. Oh,,, more..." she moaned around the tentacle in her mouth in her sex-addled haze, drinking liberally from the the tendril as she was penetrated in all of her holes; the slime gripping her body so, no matter how hard it fucked her, she would stay still. Calene felt like a whore, all three of her holes being fucked by the slime, stratched open and used for it's pleasure all while it absorbed every drop of her cunt's juices as quickl;y as she could make it. Every time the tendril in her cunt forced its way inside, the one in her recently virgin ass would pull away almost completely; leaving her with the constant feeling of being filled as the tendril in her mouth continued to drug her with the watery fluid, which simply caused her body to tingle with more and more pleasure. The tingling feeling soon became a sort of pressure as she grew closer and closer to climax. "Ohhh..." she groaned. None of the elves in the village had made her feel like this. "Ohhh" she moaned around the tentacle in her mouth even louder as she suddenly felt her cunt clamp down on the large intruder, her entire body shaking as it came. And came, and came; her plethora of juices flowing from her pussy, feeding the gel more with each passing second. 

In response to her feeding the creature, she could feel the tentacles begin to throb in unison. "Mmm..." she moaned, riding out the last waves of her orgasm until she suddenly felt a warm, sticky, liquid fill her mouth, cunt, and ass. "MMPH!" she groaned, swallowing the stuff down as quickly as possible. It felt like she was drowning! The liquid dribbled from her mouth, a darker blue than the rest of the gel, and disappeared into the pool as the woman began to feel full on the meal that was the goo's seed. "Mmm..." she moaned, the taste pleasing her as she swallowed every last drop before, without warning, the tendrils collapsed and she was free. The creature's grip released from her body, making her feel empty and alone, covered from head to toe as she struggled to leave through the thick slime. The woman began her climb, but found the edges far too slippery to get out; coated with the same blue gel that covered her. After about ten minutes of trying, Calene felt a familiar tug on her leg. "Oh..." she said. "You're not done, are you?" she continued with a moan, allowing the tendril to pull her back to the middle of the pool.



Falling in Love



I would never have thought it would happen to me. I've always been a straight man but with certain peccadilloes...from time to time I dress in women's clothing and I enjoy the fantasy of making love with men, but it's only ever been a fantasy.

I'm happily married and I've never gone against the grain but, from time to time, when my wife and I are having sex, I imagine it's a cute guy I'm with and when I'm inside her I fantasize about penetrating a cute boy. Makes me cum every time!

My wife, or anyone else for that matter, doesn't know about my secret desires. I've always considered myself to be straight despite my fantasies and, occasionally, feeling attracted to certain guys from time to time. I'm sure lots of guys have similar dreams.

I'm a college lecturer and I took on a new class. And there was a cute guy in that class. Sexy hair, lovely body and the smooth skin of a 19 year old. And he had the most electrifying way of looking me directly in the eye...and smiling. Such a beautiful smile!

My fantasies were running wild but it was the double taboo of another guy and one of my students at that. My wife was the beneficiary of lots of hot sex while I secretly imagined I was with Scott. But of course I wouldn't succumb to temptation, or so I thought.

I was leaving college late one wintry Friday afternoon. It was freezing and the rain had turned to sleet. As my car approached the bus stop I could see one person standing there, and there was something familiar about them. As I slowed, sure enough, it was Scott looking as if the cold would get to him if the bus took much longer.

I couldn't just drive by, and besides, Scott had always looked at me in a way that said he enjoyed my company. So I pulled over, wound the window down and offered him a lift. We drove a few miles towards his home but he told me to stop a couple of streets away from his house. He still lived with his parents and didn't want to answer questions about getting dropped off. I got the feeling that his folks were a bit on the strict side.

He seemed to want to talk so I turned the engine off and we chatted, mostly about how strict his dad could be. He was always asking him about who he was out with, where he went and who he was seeing. He had a girlfriend and they'd managed to find an afternoon at her folks when no one was in. Condomed up, he'd had his first and only sexual experience and lost his virginity.

I was surprised that he was telling me all this and said that while I was flattered, it was maybe a bit inappropriate for us to be having such a conversation. "It's because I feel as if I can talk to you. There's a connection between us. Don't you feel it?" he said. I had to admit that I did.

So we chatted for about 30 minutes before he said that he'd better go; his folks would be wondering where he was. Inevitably the windows had steamed up by now and he caught me a little by surprise as he leaned over and kissed me full on the lips before thanking me for the lift and stepping out the car. I was left bewildered, and more than a little turned on, by that kiss. I knew it was wrong but I hardly slept that night for fantasizing about our bodies entwined and making love to each other. 

So, nothing happened for a few weeks. I continued to teach the class and Scott continued to be engaging and alert, but nothing more. It wasn't awkward and we weren't embarrassed in each other's company. During the afternoon class one Friday, Scott slipped a scrap of paper into my hand without anyone seeing. I didn't dare look and slipped it into my jeans.

After the class I went to the toilet and locked myself in a cubicle before I dared look at the note. I unfolded the piece of paper and saw the words, "I'll be at the supermarket car park at 4:30pm if you want to pick me up and have another chat. I really enjoyed the last one." I didn't know what to think but tried to put it out of my mind as I had another class of students waiting for me.

So, twenty past four saw me pulling out of the college car park and heading off. Within a couple of minutes I would have to choose which direction I was going to head in but, really, it was no contest and five minutes later I was pulling into the supermarket car park. Scott was waiting and as I pulled to a halt he opened the door and got in.

He said, "Take me somewhere quiet so we can talk." I decided to drive to the Country Park as it had some secluded parking bays in among the trees. The rain came on again as I asked him if his parents wouldn't be expecting him. "No, they're away for the weekend and I'm staying with my aunt. I told her I was going out with my girlfriend and would be round later," he said.

We parked up and I turned the engine off. There were a few moments of silence while we smiled at each other and then Scott leaned over and kissed me. It was slower and lasted longer before our lips broke apart. We looked into each other's eyes and then kissed again. I could feel Scott's lips opening and I opened mine too just as the tip of his tongue probed gently into my mouth. I met it with mine and we rubbed the tips together before pushing deeper into each other's mouths.

It was the best kiss I'd ever had; way better that any woman I'd ever been with and way better than I could ever have imagined it would be. Scott was the most beautiful guy I'd ever seen and his tongue was in my mouth. As our lips parted he said, "you're gorgeous Mark. I fancy you so much!" I said, "We can't Scott. I'm your lecturer and I'm married. You have a girlfriend." "I won't tell anyone if you don't" was his simple answer. And I was smitten.

We snogged for 15 minutes before Scott said, "I can't take it any longer." Right at that moment I felt his hand gently stroke the bulge in my trousers and I said, "God, me too." I reached out for his crotch and felt the outline of his rock hard erection. It felt fabulous and we gently stroked each other for a few minutes, all the time kissing each other; on the mouth, and on the neck and throat. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced!

And then Scott was undoing the buttons of my jeans as he sought out my penis. I undid his trousers too and just as my fingers touched the skin of his erection I felt his hand wrapping around my cock and freeing it from my jeans. I pulled his penis out and ran my hand down its length. God, it felt good! Rock hard and throbbing to my touch.

We smiled at each other as we gently stroked each other's cocks and it felt so right. We kissed and then Scott did the most amazing thing. He put his head down into my crotch and kissed the head of my erection. It was so beautiful and such a romantic gesture. But it didn't stop there as Scott took the head of my penis into his mouth and gently began to suck, all the while rolling his tongue around the engorged end of my cock. I looked at this beautiful guy as he sucked my dick and I knew I never wanted him to stop. I put my head back and marveled at how good it felt; much better than any woman had ever done it. He seemed instinctively to know just what to do to make me feel good.

In no time at all I felt the familiar pressure building in my balls and I said, "Scott, I'm going to cum." He clamped his mouth even tighter around my penis and squeezed my balls at the same time. I had never had anyone do it like that to me and in moments I exploded into his mouth, wave after wave of sticky cum pumping into this beautiful guy. He swallowed every drop but it was the biggest, and best, orgasm I'd ever had.

Eventually the pumping stopped and Scott sucked the last of the spunk from my dick. I pulled him up so we were face to face and we kissed deeply. I could taste my own cum on this gorgeous boys tongue as we kissed for a few minutes. And then it was my turn.

I pushed Scott back in the seat as I put my head down to his gorgeous dick. There was none of the apprehension that I had imagined there would be as I kissed the head of his cock in the same way he had. And then his penis was in my mouth and I was giving my first blowjob like I'd been born to it. Up and down his manhood, rubbing my tongue over the head of his prick.

What seemed like minutes later I could hear his breathing beginning to change and then, just as I had done, he said, "Mark, I'm going to cum." And just like him, I closed my mouth around his erection and flicked the head of his dick with my tongue while I squeezed his balls. And there it was as the first wave of semen burst into my mouth, only to be followed by wave upon wave of hot sticky fluid...and I was swallowing it in order not to let a single drop escape. I could feel Scott's hands in my hair as I drained his penis of everything he had to give and then he was pulling me up and we were kissing like teenagers in love.

We must have kissed for another 20 minutes before I said that I should drop him off at his girlfriends and he agreed. We put our dicks away, tidied ourselves up and drove back to town. As he was about to get out of the car he said, "we will see each other again, won't we?" I answered, "of course. This is only the start and I want to be with you...properly with you." 

"You want to sleep with me?"

"Well, I guess we'll get some sleep eventually but I want to make love to you all night...naked, in bed, inside each other."

"Fantastic! That's what I want too...with my boyfriend. You are my boyfriend, aren't you" he asked tentatively.

"I am, and you're my boyfriend Scott, aren't you?" I said.

"Forever Mark!"

We smiled and he leaned over and French kissed me before opening the door and getting out. I drove off with the most amazing feeling. I had just given and received my first gay blowjob...and I wanted more with this beautiful guy!

Find out how we got on the first time we managed to be alone all night...it had love, sex, penetration and life promises!



Falling in Love Again



Nancy...

Well her full name is actually Nancy Smith-Harding but everybody naturally calls her Nancy. She is 30, smart, sexy, and I hate to admit it, but she's also driving me crazy. Who would have suspected that she'd have such an effect on me? After all I am 20 something, widowed and, contented in my life. It was about a year after my wife died, everything in my life was coming together, it was great... Until she came to work for our firm. 

Now I suppose I fit into the typical category for male stereotypes, even though I had never even considered it until now. I admit it though; I remember checking her out on that first day. I compared her to my personal qualities of beauty and acceptability, and found she fell into an average rating. Nancy is a pretty woman of that there is no doubt. Her short ash brown hair seemed to suit her even though I tended to like long hair, and her soft hazel eyes were dreamy to look into. Still though, I noted that she wore slacks and I'm a legman so that was the first strike against her. She is not a tall lady, being about 5'2" or 3" and if I were to hazard a guess about I'd say about 120 lbs. She has smallish breasts, but curves, which were definitely to my taste, at least ways judging by what my mind and eyes could discern. You see beside the slacks Nancy wore a sort of thick gray blouse covered mostly by a dull sport coat. Her heels were small perhaps an inch in length, and she sported a small cross about her neck and a wedding ring for jewelry. I remember thinking wedding ring... Too bad she's kind of cute, and yet immediately afterwards I questioned my own ideals. You see I have always though it a bad idea for employees within a firm to date or get together. Yet here I was on a first meeting thinking of her in exactly those terms. 

I suppose that one of my own personal idiosyncrasies is I've never been big on casually chatting with people, but I have always been good at observation. I have also developed an instinctive curiosity, which has also lead me to listen, where, and when others speak even if it is not specifically to me. Thus it was that over the next six months I got to know Nancy a bit more. I discovered for example that her original state of attire was on the whole the way she dressed. In fact it must have been at least a month before I ever saw the smallest portion of her legs. Her character was easy going, and all in all I liked her. I suppose though the real trouble started at the company's annual golf tournament. You see each year the staff and their significant others are invited out for a round of golf and meal on the firm. Well on this particular occasion Nancy came with her husband Albert, who for some odd reason reminded me of me. I guess in some ways that should be considered a compliment, but then if that were the case then I am a terrible person, for you see I don't like Albert. Oh sure in the basic sense I could see myself as him. We had similar builds, and in fact similar looks but I hope that is as far as it goes. 

I found over the course of the evening Albert seemed to treat his wife sort of like his coat or a dog. You know he owned it, and it was there if he wanted it, but not like a person, a partner, a wife. Perhaps I thought... This was a secluded incidence after all the company was offering free booze and he did partake on several occasions, but Damit it all!! She was lovely Suddenly I wondered where that thought had come from. There was nothing between us, never had been. In fact on the rare occasion where she had said something which peeked my personal interest or curiosity I had stayed quiet. So why now was she so intriguing So on my mind? I couldn't answer that question, still can't. I suppose though that was the start of it. 

I remember now it was that very night which cascaded me into the mess I found myself in. You see it was about 3:30 in the morning when suddenly I awoke in a cold sweat. I had been dreaming of Nancy. Well ok... Lets put this into context... I'd been making love to her in my dream. Ravaging her tender young body again, and again. I awoke to the aching of my own cock, which was swollen, hard, and begging I use it. Yet no matter what I tried, I couldn't sleep, nor get rid of it, for hours. I know you understand all that entails so for now I'll not go into it. 

The next day at work I looked like hell warmed over. I knew it. I felt it. But to add to the burden Nancy arrived in a skirt, knee length. Her thick blouse, had been replaced by a lighter one and she had left the dull sports coat at home. Even her heels had gained an inch, but her true nature still shone through with the addition of cheapy pantyhose. I might well have enjoyed the day too, but it bothered me that I had dreamt of her in that way. Now each time she came close those scenes flashed in my mind, but worse than this I let her fuss over me. You see she was concerned about me, that I was sick, yet I was consumed by her. My eyes tried to compare her dream body to her newly revealed form. I found myself trying to see down her blouse or to catch a glimpse of more leg as she moved. Things were bad. 

Over the next few months it did not become easier. On occasion I still dreamt of her, and I started to notice more about her at the office. I started to watch the way she moved, the shade of her lipstick, and the smell of her perfume. I think perhaps it still would have been ok but then it happened. My birthday . You see Nancy somehow discovered it was my birthday and insisted I have a birthday kiss. At the time I thought nothing of the request, but when her lips brushed mine all I wanted to do was hold on. My hands shook demanding I caress her but somehow I managed to restrain myself, yet even now I wonder if she knew. I also recall how for hours afterwards my mind replayed that simple kiss. How soft it was. How warm her lips seemed. The slight moisture, which, remained upon my own. Were her lips parted... Yes I believe so. Did she wish or want my lips to part? Did she wish or want to feel my tongue. Oh God!! What was she doing to me 

You'd think a grown man could control himself, but oh no I let it get worse still. I listened more acutely now as Nancy spoke. Listened to her life, which became a part of my own. Listened as she spoke of watching sex videos with her husband, about double penetration, and how she did, or would feel full not excited. Listened how an employee had too much to drink one day and propositioned her. Listened how someone had tried to have phone sex with her, there at the office... Someone female .Then listened how she attended a party one night had too much to drink, passed out, and awoke the next day without her panties or pantyhose. She couldn't remember it happening but knew it was her husband. They fed my imagination. Fed the dreams, which became longer and more often. I started to fantasize about her there at the office, and still it got worse. Her dresses became shorter and I found myself absorbed by her sexy legs I hovered about them as much as I could. I was going nuts I had to get away 

I didn't though I stayed. I stayed as the weather became cooler and her blouses changed to sweaters watching as they often billowed forth offering me a view of her bra, covered breasts. I stayed until her birthday when fate stepped in. I had known it was coming. Had longed for it in fact for I needed another kiss. I had asked her if I might give her a present to which she had smiled told me it was not necessary and then kissed me on the cheek, for my consideration. My hand had accidentally brushed her breast then and my dreams became worse. I know now I was beyond help. My mind and actions were no longer controlled by reason, I did go out and buy her a present. There was more to it though, for somehow I had purchased a beautiful 80% angora sweater. It was so soft, so warm, so black But more than this I added a note. I don't even remember doing it yet there it was when she opened it. How had it happened? 

Imagine now if you will sweet Nancy Smith-Harding arriving at work on that day. It was cold, wet and relatively miserable, and her mood seemed to reflect this. As I saw her I immediately wished her the happiest of birthdays, and kissed her before she even removed her coat, soaking myself in the process, but I didn't care. As I helped her off with her coat I invited her to lunch and was rewarded with another kiss, and then it happened. She saw the present upon her desk. A smallish box wrapped neatly with a bright red ribbon. Her eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle and she said "Oh!!! You You shouldn't have". Thinking back now, perhaps she was correct. 

I remember watching as she carefully untied the ribbon, then removed the paper without damaging it, a trait my wife had, had. How she folded back the flaps of the crepe paper to reveal the object within. "Oh!! Philip It's beautiful You shouldn't have", still echoes in my mind. Then I watched as she carefully ran her hand over the soft folded garment before reaching in to lift it out. I watched as the bottom of the sweater dropped away from her hands and as a tiny piece of paper floated featherlike to her desk. Nancy turned the garment slowly in her hands then brought it up to her chest. She held it there a moment then slowly stroked the front again. "Oh!!! Philip thank you", she said. Then kissed me one more time. I remember now returning to my desk satisfied at the response I had received but more than this I was happy she truly seemed to love the present. 

It was perhaps 10 minutes later when out of curiosity at the silence I turned the corner to Nancy's office. In one hand she held the sweater in the other that funny piece of paper, which had floated from between the folds. She looked up at me as I entered, smiled a crooked little smile then looked back at the sweater. "Thank you", were her words, yet they were chocked up as though she fought the urge to cry. "Nancy" I began, but suddenly she stood and rushed past me to the ladies room. What had happened? What had I done?... If you've never experienced the situation where upon a person consumes you're every waking thought, then perhaps you'll not understand. As it was though I had done something to apparently upset Nancy, and my mind was agonizing over it. There was no clue left behind save the box, neatly folded paper, and ribbon. I tried following her to wait and ask, but then work got in the way. Someone was paging me and I tried to weight the importance. Slowly reluctantly I returned to my desk, but when I picked up the phone the line was dead. Curious that Once again I headed towards the ladies room and once again I was paged. I guessed the caller had somehow gotten cut off and thus turned and hurried back. 

I know I picked-up the phone said "Hello" and waited, but once again there was nobody there. This was getting ridiculous. I hung up again, stood, took perhaps three steps, when it rang for a third time. Frustrated I picked up the receiver, and gruffly said "Hello? Hello Hello is anyone there?" Just as I was about to hang up again I heard "Thank you". It was so soft I had almost missed it; so just in case I said "What?" "Thank you" came the voice again  "Who is this?" I asked. Then suddenly realized it was Nancy. "Nancy? Is that you?" I continued. "I'm sorry" came the response... "I have to go"... "Nancy" I began, but then the line went dead. I waited there in my office, but the phone never rang again. Then I tried going back to the ladies room only to find it empty. I searched around the building but could find no sign of Nancy and so I went to the front, and asked if anyone had seen her. Apparently she told them she was not feeling well and left for the day. What could I have possibly done to affect her so. I waited through the rest of the day, all through the next, and even the one after, before finally finding out. Then on the Friday Nancy returned. 

I remember it like yesterday not because it mirrored her birthday, being cold, wet, and miserable, but because she came in with a bright smile and a very cheerful greeting. I was so happy she had returned to her old self and then it happened. Nancy turned to face me, removed her coat, and was sporting the new angora sweater. More than this though Nancy's breasts jiggled as she moved and suddenly I knew she was braless. I remember now that note. Remember writing it, and placing it between the folds of the sweater. I remember how I had told her this sweater was like I. Warm, caring, and attentive to her body's needs. I remember writing that the first time she donned it, she should remove her bra close her eyes and caress her breasts. When she opened them again I wrote, she'd always remember that's how I'd treat her, and that each time she wore the sweater braless, she'd feel my caring hands stroking her body. After that it was hell to work with Nancy, for she hovered close, brushed against me, and drove my sense wild. I wanted nothing more than to grab her lay her across my desk and ravage her. Yet still I remembered she was married. She wore that sweater quite often I recall, and each time it was braless. 

Once she had asked me for some odd form. One, which the company only used on the rarest of occasions. I knew where that form was, and could easily have told her, but instead I insisted I'd showed her. She wore the sweater that day, and I knew before I even got up from my desk this was a mistake. Together we traveled down into the very bowels of the building way back in the furthest corner where the ancient records were kept. I showed her the box high on a shelf and the old stool I had used in the past to retrieve it. I recall how I pulled the stool forward and was about to retrieve the box when she laid her hand upon my shoulder. "Its ok Philip" she had said "I can get it thanks". Somewhere in that touch I was lost, I stepped away and allowed her to retrieve it. I watched as she adjusted the stool to her own satisfaction. Watched as the angora floated away from her breasts and shifted so I could see more. I wanted to grab her, push her against the wall and kiss her. I knew she'd let me. I dreamt just that night, it was how she wanted it, and yet somewhere deep inside myself I stayed under restraints. I watched as her thigh slipped into view as she placed her foot upon the stool. Watched as she tested its stability, and watched as her body rose to meet the new height. My mind said to "Go! Then, and there before it was too late" But I didn't. Instead I waited, and watched. Had I known what was going to happen? I wonder about that now... I watched as Nancy reached for the box. Watched as she extended herself on tippy toes and stretched way to far for the tiny stool. I knew before my eyes confirmed it, that she would fall and thus it was that my hands darted out and grasped her about the thighs for support. I held her there. Her waist crushed against my chest feeling the warmth from her body. I heard her breath catch as she started the fall, and the relief as she found I was there when she needed me. As promised so few months ago. 

Again she reached for the box yet I did not let go. My mind no longer wished to use logic, or reason for it was swimming in the closeness we now shared. I suddenly realized her sweater was just brushing my nose and my eyes oriented themselves. There I was mere inches from Nancy's sexy breasts. I also realized her nipples were hard and watched fascinated as they glided slowly back and forth against the soft material, as her body moved. I know my mind wanted to suck one, my body said yes, yes, yes, but my conscience said no. I watched them moving back and forth, back and forth, and moved my mouth closer. Perhaps, I thought, they could accidentally brush my lips a small yet satisfying consolation. Closer and closer I moved, then at the last moment looked up higher. Nancy's face was obscured from my sight, and I knew it was now or never, so I opened my mouth and gently sucked the hard bud. All in all it was very quick, and when I looked up she had not moved nor even noticed. I had gotten away with it... Yet it was so unsatisfying. It was just too sort. 

Now my mind weighted, right from wrong, and I knew that was the end of it. I had managed to steal that tiny thrill, from another man's wife but that had to be as far as it went. Having resolved that, I then closed my eyes opened my mouth again, and captured a bud for a second time. This time I took longer and it felt so much better. The bud was so hard and receptive to my lips. I felt like I was in heaven. I am not really sure how long the whole scene took, but I'd guess only a few seconds. I do recall though it was the shaking of Nancy's thighs in my hands that caused me to stop. As my mouth moved away, my now guilt ridden conscious forced me to look up. This time Nancy's face came into view. Her head slowly tilting, until her eyes gazed blankly into my own. Her body shifted as she began to descend from the stool causing my hands to glide ever higher on her thighs, and forcing her skirt up. I watched as her eyes closed and as her lips parted in a soft exhale of breath, and I knew one kiss would seal our fate. 

I waited till she stood again on the floor, then allowed my hands to glide almost caressingly up her body, until at last my fingers slipped through her silken hair. I paused for just a moment, then as her eyes began to open, leaned in. Instead of kissing her though my lips brushed past her cheek towards her ear. "I'm sorry" I whispered. I felt her hands caress up my back and her breasts push hotly against me. God I wanted this. More than anything, and yet somehow I found the strength to draw her face back in front of my own. I heard the words as they came from my lips. "We I Can't". I heard them but could not believe them, then repeated that I was sorry. 

For better or worse I pulled away. I watched as her eyes filled with tears, and felt as though I'd just ended my own life. She had said nothing, had not tried to fight, only slowly turned and headed away. I remember watching as she made her way through the maze of storage boxes then watched as her legs slowly disappeared from sight up the stairs. There I was alone in the darkened basement alone with my mind. I turned to follow her, then thought of the form she had been looking for, so instead I turned back to the stool. For a moment I looked at it then slowly I sat down. It was all too much for me. Somehow I was losing my fight with what was right. I was giving in to the madness or perhaps love which Nancy had inspired, and so then and there I decided it had to end. 

I never realized the extent such desires play upon the mind. For in the most complex of situations I can be counted on to be level headed and logical and yet my solution was to do something stupid. My idea for resolving the madness was to go out, pick up a lady, and have sex with her till I could no longer perform. I somehow rationalized that I could screw Nancy from my mind. So after work I went home, showered, shaved, put on my best suit, and cologne, and then went to a bar. There I did indeed find a lady. A real beauty by anyone's standards. She had the most gorgeous long black hair, and the softest blue eyes imaginable. Her legs were covered in the sheerest of stockings and her dress was a combination of modern, sexy, and classy. We sat together enjoying the evening. Talking, listening to the music, just friendly stuff when out of the blue she asked if we could get out of there. I remember smiling, telling her of course, then going to the bar and ordering her a last drink. I also asked the bartender for the number of a local cab company, then proceeded to call and ask that we be picked up. As I returned to the table I explained that the cab was on the way, so we yet had time for a last dance. I am not sure how long it took but eventually the cab arrived and we headed out. I recall opening the door watching with lust and fascination as she swung her legs inside, then I closed the door behind her. It seems funny now, but there I stood outside the cab with a sexy, willing partner, just beyond the smoked glass. I recall watching as it lowered and even her words... "What's going on? I thought we were leaving". I smiled at that, and said "I'm sorry I can't". She looked at me quizzically then said "What??? Why the fuck not?"... Imagine, words like that from a lady... Anyway I know I reached inside the car pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. I handed the driver some money then said... "I can't,,, you're just not Nancy". I turned then headed off to my own car and had managed to get the key in the lock when she was back. She spun me about and in a flurry of profanity asked who Nancy was. I recall fighting for the answer saying, "Nancy is Nancy is" When my date suddenly lunged at me. She did not attack though for instead she rammed her tongue into my mouth in an attempted passion filled kiss. Perhaps it was an attempt to win me over, for when she had finished, she said "Does Nancy do that for you?" "No" I admitted, then added "Nancy's married". It seems that as fast as the last word exited my lips my date had already slapped my face and call me an asshole. She stormed off before I even regained my balance and the last I'd seen of her was those thighs once again swinging into the cab. 




Falling In Love Again



It was a sultry July day as I stepped out of the taxi; Ali would have loved it. As I walked into the synagogue, however, I reflected how much she would have hated that. Ali despised all religion – I wanted to give her a humanist funeral, but whereas her family had totally rejected her in life, in death they had reclaimed her, doing their best to freeze me out entirely. I'd had to ask our solicitor to tell me where the ceremony was taking place. I glanced across the temple and saw them – her tall patrician father, her small dumpy mother, and her portly elder brother, all pretending I didn't exist.

I'm Suki, by the way. Well, my parents christened me Susan, but I always hated having such a dull, conventional name, and the moment I left home I changed it. Home is a small town in New Mexico which nobody from more than 20 miles away has ever heard of. I live in London, England (God, that is such an American expression), and for the last six years of her life Ali has been my significant other. To be honest, our relationship had hit a bit of a rocky patch at the time of her death; but the end came with shocking suddenness. One evening we were lying in bed together when Ali got up with a terrible headache. Within minutes she was sobbing with pain and fear. I called an ambulance and held her; by the time help arrived she was unconscious, and she never woke up. I wasn't really listening when, two days after it all started, the doctor told me the medical term for what had killed her: basically a blood vessel in her brain had burst, and even if she'd survived she would almost certainly been in what they call a vegetative state – that is such a horrible term.

So now here I was, being completely shunned by the seemingly dozens of her black-clad relatives who crowded the building, like so many carrion crows. Turning my back on them I gazed nto space, waiting for the whole grizzly business to start. I felt a hand settle lightly on my shoulder – and my blood froze in my veins as I turned and stared into the face of my dead girlfriend!

The next thing I knew, I was lying on a chaise longue with a dull ache at the back of my skull and a pink oval hovering over me. It swam into focus and I saw it was a concerned face, which belonged to, I remembered, an old friend of Ali's who had stayed friendly when her family spurned their evil lesbian Jezebel. He was some kind of doctor at one of the big London hospitals. As I tried to sit up my head protested like it had been kicked and Paul, that was the guy's name I recalled, gently pressed me back down. "Take it easy, you cracked your head on the way down. You had us worried for a few minutes – we thought you might have damaged a valuable antique table."

The feeble joke passed me by, and I felt physically sick and bewildered. I asked, "What happened, did I faint or something? How long for?"

Paul stroked a strand of hair out of my eyes and said, "Only a few minutes, but you need time to recover. Just lie back and think of Uncle Sam." From my reclining position I could see I was in some kind of office – there was a crowded noticeboard to my left. The room was also pretty crowded. There was Ali's mom, looking worried; and beside her, Ali's dad, seemingly furious that I was apparently trying to steal the show at his daughter's funeral; the rabbi was there, glancing at his watch, concerned I was going to foul up his schedule; and one other figure. Hanging back by the door, pale and looking as if she'd been crying, was the Ali look-alike. Paul must have noticed me staring at her. Without taking his eyes off me he whispered, "Alison's sister, Andrea."

Jesus, what a shock that was! I knew Ali had a sister, but she'd never bothered to mention the small fact that they were identical twins. Feeling embarrassed by the whole situation, I heard myself mumbling, "Look, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I guess it's so hot today, and I'm not used to wearing pantyhose, I guess I just…" I knew I was babbling. Thankfully Paul silenced me before I made an even bigger ass of myself. After a glass of water and a few minutes sitting upright holding my head in my hands, and stuffing my damn pantyhose in my handbag, I felt okay, refusing Paul's suggestion that I go for an X-ray, and I made it through the ceremony. I felt a little faint but whether that was due to the heat – which should have been like a cool spring morning to a gal from New Mexico – or the fact that I was bidding my lover farewell, I couldn't say.

As I made my way out of the temple I started to wonder if Paul would give me a lift to the burial ground, since everybody else there hated me. Then I saw Andrea tentatively approaching me. Now I looked at her properly I could see clear differences between her and Ali. Andrea's black hair was styled into gentle waves ending at the nape of her neck, unlike Ali's long straight locks. Her pale face was the tiniest bit fuller, her eye brows thinner and sculpted, her body that bit more rounded and fleshy than those of her dead sister. Nevertheless, there was enough of a resemblance to make my heart skip several beats. (For the record, I'm physically quite different to the sisters – at five-nine in my bare feet I'm a good five inches taller, and leggier, with sandy brown hair, inherited from my dad, which I wear to shoulder length, and skin that always looks healthily tanned, courtesy of my Mexican mom. I'm also quite slim, apart from a respectable pair of boobs. I've been compared, flatteringly, to the young Lauren Bacall. Ali was less kind, teasing me that I looked like a boy wearing a pair of joke shop fake tits.)

Andrea smiled nervously and, reaching out, lightly touched my shoulder again, as if I was a scared rabbit or something. She said, "Suki, I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. It was completely thoughtless of me. How are you feeling now?" I shrugged her hand from my shoulder and told her coolly that I was fine. She then offered me a lift to the cemetery with her and her husband Martin, which was a help. As we walked slowly to her car, she said sadly, "I didn't want to lose touch with Ali, but I felt so pressured by Mum and Dad. We used to be very close and I've really missed her. Now I'll never be able to tell her." With that she burst into tears. Suddenly I found myself, at the funeral of my girlfriend, trying to comfort the sister who hadn't spoken to her for six years, hadn't even invited Ali to her wedding.

On the way to the graveyard Martin, who was driving, pretty much ignored me, but Andrea, her emotional squall over, asked me by way of conversation if I was going to keep on the flat I'd shared with her sister. I explained I couldn't. Islington Borough Council had said that because my name wasn't on the lease they couldn't transfer it to me. I wasn't sure they had the law on their side, but in any case it would have been difficult for me to stay there – I'd been sleeping on the couch since Ali's death. Besides, they'd already provisionally offered the place to a couple of Somali refugees. When Andrea asked what I was going to do I shrugged. "I've got three weeks to find another place. I guess I'd better make a start on it tomorrow."

After Ali had been interred, my only wish was to get the hell out of there as quick as possible, link up with a few friends and get very drunk. Before I could escape, though, Andrea cornered me. "We're asking people back to Mum and Dad's for tea and nibbles. You will come, won't you? Please?" My first thought was to plead an aching head; but Andrea was trying so hard to be nice to me, and that would just have made her feel guilty about freaking me out earlier. Then I thought, fuck Ali's parents, she was my girlfriend, and they hadn't even seen her for six years. Why should I allow them to take over her memory, and pretend I never existed? So, knowing I'd be about as welcome as Bin Laden at the White House, I told Andrea, sure, of course I'd come.

Once there I hid away in the corner of her parents' huge lounge like a bad smell. Andrea attempted to keep me company, but every time she joined me some uncle or aunt gently steered her away to talk to cousin Reuben or whoever. At one point Ali's mom came and sat next to me. She said, "Thank you for coming Suki, I'm sorry we don't know you better." Then, taking my hand in hers, she asked, with what seemed genuine concern, "Are you feeling any better? Would you like me to get you some paracetamol?" I was both amazed and touched. I thanked her and told her I was okay. As she drifted away I had a quiet chuckle to myself, imagining what Ali would have said about it: that her mother was just trying to head off a possible law suit.

Jut as I was thinking of quietly slipping away Andrea joined me again, with her husband in tow. Sitting beside me, she said, "Suki, Martin and I have been talking about this, and we'd like to suggest that you come and stay with us. Just for a few weeks, while you get back on your feet. We've got a big spare room, and you'd be most welcome, really, wouldn't she Marty?" I stared from one to the other, stunned. Martin's face looked as if they'd just invited me to set up a lesbian bordello in their back yard, but he nodded grimly in agreement. I asked Andrea if it wouldn't upset her parents if she put me up. Pouting slightly, she replied, "If it does, that's their problem. I'm 27, not 12, and it's our home. Please think about it. I'd really like to get to know you, and I believe that Ali would have wanted me to ask you. Oh, and by the way, my friends call me Andi."

I had gotten sufficiently used to Andi that my breath had stopped catching in my throat every time I saw her, but I wasn't sure how I'd feel about lodging with someone who would constantly remind me of Alison. On the other hand, I had to find somewhere, and property rental in London is horribly expensive. I work in an art gallery in trendy Covent Garden. I enjoy the work and I have a great relationship with Joel, the hip gay French Canadian who owns the place, but it isn't the best paid job in the world. I could probably afford to rent a room in a house, but I wasn't sure I was ready to throw my lot in with total strangers. So I told Andi that if they were serious, that would be so kind. Within a couple of days I'd sold the contents of the flat to a local house clearer, loaded my meagre belongings into two suitcases, and a friend had driven me over in his minivan to Andi and Martin's terrace cottage in the northern suburbs of London.

I had a nice big bedroom with a couch and a desk, and my own shelf in the refrigerator. Andi and I negotiated my rent – she trying to talk me down, I insisting that she wasn't charging me enough. She struck me as quite prissy, and far more house proud than her sister or I had ever been. Every drink had to stand on a coaster, every plate and cup had to be washed up as soon as they had been used, and so on. At first it irritated the hell out of me, but I gradually began to settle in.

From the first day it seemed to me Andi and Martin had a slightly odd relationship, in which they hardly ever actually saw each other. She worked in central London and was up and out of the house before he was awake. Then Martin went training two nights a week with the amateur soccer team he played for. Most other evenings he was either in his den, surfing the Internet or watching live soccer games on satellite TV, or in his lock-up garage half a mile away tinkering with his car. Most Saturdays he travelled all over the country watching his beloved Tottenham Hotspur, and on Sunday mornings he played himself, which usually culminated in a long boozy session in a pub with his team mates, unless Spurs were playing a Sunday match at home, in which case the boozing followed that. Andi hated soccer, but I was mildly interested, and talking about it was pretty much my main connection with Martin. Other than that, he more or less left me to my own devices.

So, Andi and I started spending quite a lot of time together. We travelled to work together, me getting off the tube at her stop, near the City bank where she worked then walking the mile or so to my own workplace. I had a small TV in my bedroom, but most evenings I sat in the lounge with Andi, watching their 36-inch multi-channel set with her: initially out of sympathy at Martin's lack of presence, but increasingly because I began to enjoy her company. The only times I made myself scarce were the rare evenings when Martin stayed home, in order to give them a little privacy.

I liked to make myself an early dinner when I got in from work, then take a shower. That meant drying off and getting dressed again to go and sit with Andi. One evening I couldn't be arsed (as my English friends would say) with dragging fresh clothes on, so I just wrapped myself in my big towelling bathrobe, swathed my hair in a towel turban, and padded barefoot downstairs. Andi did a double-take that first time, but she didn't say anything, and from then on that became my regular routine. We'd sit at opposite ends of the couch, my long brown legs tucked under me, sipping white wine as we let that and the TV anaesthetise us. I found our taste in programmes was quite similar – current affairs, documentaries on wildlife or aspects of history, police dramas and one particular soap opera. For all Ali's undoubted intellect, her preference had been for what she freely admitted was "trash TV" – the likes of Big Brother, X Factor, and shows about perfectly attractive women desperate to submit themselves to cosmetic surgery.

In fact, as I got to know Andi better, I increasingly realised how very different she was to her sister, beneath the superficiality of looks. Ali was a great laugh, but she had a kind of "fuck you" attitude to the world, and a hard, cynical edge that I always found unattractive. Andi was softer, with a kinder, more considerate outlook. She also had a more subtle brand of humour than Alison. Andi would often make pithy little throw-away comments that would have me snickering in a most undignified fashion. Where Ali, so passionate about the left-wing causes she believed in, would have blasted the pomposity of a politician on TV with a shotgun, Andi would slide a metaphorical stiletto between the guy's ribs, to far more telling effect in my view. I began to discover she had distinctly liberal political views which I – and I suspect her husband – would never have guessed at.

Andi also had a romantic streak that was a million miles removed from Ali. One Saturday afternoon one of my favourite Hollywood weepies, Now Voyager, was on TV. Ali would have sat through the whole thing making sarcastic comments, and making fun of me for watching it; but as big sloppy tears rolled down my cheeks I glanced across at Andi and saw her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Without even thinking what I was doing I reached out and took her hand in mine. We watched the rest of the movie like that, our fingers intertwined, sobbing our hearts out as Bette Davis and Paul Henreid played out their melodrama before us. At one particularly emotional moment Andi even squeezed my hand, and I reciprocated.

That evening I'd been invited by friends to a pasta party across town and, off the cuff, I asked Andi if she'd like to come. No I didn't, I actually asked her if she would come with me. She gave me a smile in response, and within five minutes she'd changed into a simple white slip-on cotton blouse, tight stonewash blue jeans and open-toed sandals, the plum nail varnish on her toes contrasting with the her ghostly pale feet. She stood framed in the doorway to the lounge, and I felt my mouth go dry and my gut lurch as I took in her curvy figure. At the party I thought I'd never seen Andi more relaxed. The prissy middle-class attitudes I'd originally seen in her seemed a distant memory as she sat on the floor, her back braced against a chair, her shoes kicked off, sipping a can of beer between laughing at anecdotes from my friends' chaotic and, occasionally, bizarre lives. We kept exchanging amused glances and, her eyes sparkling with the heady mix of enjoyment and alcohol, I also thought she'd never looked more lovely.

At one point Julia, a friend by marriage, cornered me in the kitchen. She grinned conspiratorially, and chuckled, "It's nice that you've found someone else, you two just look so right together. Bit spooky, but still…"

I smiled at the misunderstanding. "You've got it wrong, Andi's just a friend, and my landlady. She's also unavailable, and extremely hetero."

Julie frowned. "Oh come on Sukes, I can feel the sparkle between you, we all can. I mean, the way you look at each other, it's so sweet."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Really Julia, there's nothing there. We really are just good pals."

Turning on her heel, apparently piqued at the thought I was bullshitting her, she flounced towards the kitchen door. "Okay Suki, whatever." She paused in the doorway, and glanced back over her shoulder at me mischievously. "Anyway, I'm still pleased for you." The rest of the evening I watched my friends closely. Most of them had known me for years, and it appeared that Julia was not alone in her misconception. I began to detect warm smiles as people glanced from Andi to me, and the occasional eyebrow cocked suggestively, just little hints here and there that the guys thought we made a great couple.

On the 20-odd stop tube journey back home Andi was still happy and relaxed. Resting her bare feet on the seat – something I would never have imagined she'd do – she asked me if my friends liked her. I assured her they'd loved her – they really had. Dreamily, she said, "Your friends are so nice, so laid back. I haven't really got any friends outside work – except you of course.  When we do get together with people we know, or with my brother and cousins, the talk's always about who's got the newest car or the flashiest stereo system, whose husband's got the swishest job, how wonderfully the kids are doing at school, it's all so dull. Your friends are really interesting." In a friendly gesture I reached across and lifted Andi's small feet into my lap, and began gently massaging them. She almost purred like a cat! I wondered aloud if she and Martin didn't want kids. She snuggled back in the seat and closed her eyes. "Oh, Mum and Dad are desperate for us to give them more grandkids to spoil, but Marty and I agree we're going to put it off as long as we can. Most of the time I feel like a kid myself, why would I want the responsibility of having one of my own?"

That night I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and reflecting tipsily on what a great evening it had been, and how funny it was that all my friends seemed to assume I was having an affair with Andi. I had really enjoyed seeing her have such a good time with them. She was such a sweet person…so easy to…oh shit! I sat up in bed with a start. I wasn't really falling in love with my dead girlfriend's twin sister, I couldn't be – could I? Now that I was really thinking about it, I knew the truth beyond any doubt. If I was honest with myself, I'd barely thought about Alison for weeks: all my thoughts these days were about Andi. Something deep inside told me I had to get out of there, now, before I allowed myself to get badly hurt. But after a restless night, I began to rationalise the situation. I was happy living there, I enjoyed Andi's company, irrespective of any deeper feelings I might have for her. I was good for her too, she was blooming under my influence. She was off-limits, it was as simple as that. I was a mature adult, and I could handle it.

The day after the party, as we were sitting digesting lunch and wading through the Sunday papers, completely out of the blue Andi asked me how I had met Ali. The question totally threw me, and I was silent for at least 30 seconds; then I pretty much told her my life story.




Falling In Love Again



"From as early as I can remember, I never really felt very American. Pledging allegiance to the flag every morning made me cringe. I hated all the ritual posing at Huntersville High School: the macho dick-swinging contests among the boys; the preening the girls did to snare the hottest jocks to take them to the prom; the vicious urban warfare masquerading as the annual cheerleader try-outs. So I just opted out of it all and became one of the nerds. By the time I graduated I had the best set of grades in the history of the school, and all the cool kids thought I was a total dweeb. My folks assumed I'd go to college and become a doctor or a lawyer – I had a firm offer from Berkeley. But at 18 I'd had enough of studying, and I wanted to see the world; to get as far away from my hick town as humanly possible. The place was just stifling. New York was an impossible dream for kids like me, a kind of Shangri-la, so that's where I went.

"I stayed there six months, but the people were either uptight or weird, and the city just terrified me. I used to lay awake at night and listen to the police sirens, and jump every time I heard a bang, wondering if someone had just been shot. So I came over to Europe. I liked the idea of Paris, but I hated not speaking the language, and the snotty attitude of most of the people I met. Without French I was going to struggle to get a job, so I thought I'd try London instead. Straight away I made some good friends – you met a couple of them last night – and I felt so much more at home here than anywhere else I'd ever been. Londoners are a whole lot more laid back than New Yorkers, and they don't take themselves too seriously.

"After a few months I thought maybe I should do some kind of studying after all, to keep my mind in shape, so I enrolled for an evening class in social anthropology of all things. And that's where I met Ali. She'd just graduated from university, and she was helping out her old lecturer, who was presenting the class. I'd had a couple of relationships with men in the past: I lost my virginity to a married man in Huntersville just before my graduation, and I'd even lived with a guy for two months in New York. But each time I'd found myself thinking, ‘Is that really it? That's what everyone gets so excited about?' I knew there had to be something else, something better. It had just never occurred to me until I met Alison that it was girls.

"The very first night, Ali and I had coffee together in the refectory after class. After the third session I went back to her flat with her, knowing that if I did we were going to go to bed. I moved my stuff in the next day, and that's how it was for the next six years."

We were both silent for a little while after that. Then Andi asked me if I didn't miss my family back in the States. "Oh, I went home for a couple of weeks about three years ago. I asked Ali to come with me, but she wouldn't. It was great to see Mom and Dad again, of course, but the town just left me so depressed. And I saw kids I knew from high school, waiting table in the diner, working at the slaughterhouse, dull eyed and with no more ambition that to get their pay check at the end of the week. I couldn't wait to get back to cold, wet, beautiful London. My family never knew about me and Ali, about me living with her; and now they never will."

After a few moments of silence, Andi said quietly, "My parents blamed you, you know – for Ali being gay. They thought you were this awful gold-digging American bull dyke who'd come over here to seduce their sweet innocent daughter. I tried to tell them what rubbish that was, but they just didn't want to listen. They told her she'd have to choose between you and them; they never forgave her for choosing you. They told me – a grown woman – that we were cutting her out of our lives. I should have just told them to fuck themselves" – Andi never swore – "but no, I was the good, loyal daughter, who didn't have anything to do with sexual deviants, even if they were the closest person to me in the world.

"Ali and I were incredibly close when we were young, virtually inseparable. Then, when she was 14, she met a new friend, Denise, and suddenly we weren't so close anymore. They used to do their homework together. One afternoon I walked into our room, mine and Ali's, not knowing they were there. Denise was lying on Ali's bed with her skirt up around her waist and Ali's head…well, anyway, that's how I found out my sister was a lesbian. When Mum and Dad found out about you they just wouldn't believe me." After a pause, she asked, "So Ali was your only female lover, yeah? Do you think you were always that way inclined, or did you just happen to fall in love with someone who was the same sex as you?"

I shook my head. "I honestly don't know. Back home, in high school, there was one girl who was a very special friend. Maybe if I'd had the imagination to think about it I'd have pushed things with her, although I just know she would have been totally freaked out. But we simply didn't have lesbians in Huntersville – not living ones, anyway. Ali and I used to talk occasionally about the nature versus nurture thing. I was never really sure what the answer was, but she was convinced it was in her genes, that she was born to be a dyke. She had loads of lovers before me at uni – she used to tell me about them, to try and make me jealous. So how about you: she was your sister, do you think it's genetic, have you ever had deep dealings for another woman?"

I hadn't meant to go down that road, and it honestly wasn't intended as a come-on; but it was Andi who had opened this Pandora's box. She looked momentarily startled, as if the question had never even occurred to her before. She replied quickly – a little too quickly, and too forcefully, "No, of course not, Marty and I have been together since we were 16 and I've never thought about anybody else, certainly not a woman." 

There was something shifty about her eyes, and a nervous swallow, that made me doubt her words. Intrigued now, I inched a little closer to her on the couch. I asked quietly, "Come on, can you honestly say you've never had some really special female friend, so close it felt like you communicated telepathically, who you thought about every hour of the day, even when you didn't see her? Maybe someone you found yourself thinking, ‘She's so great, if only she had a dick'. No-one?"

She was silent for maybe a minute, staring into space and lightly stroking her throat with her thumb and forefinger. The action startled me – I'd watched Ali do exactly the same thing numerous times when she was thinking deeply about something. Eventually, she started, "I…" another silence of maybe ten seconds, then she shook her head emphatically and stood up, distractedly plumping up the cushions on the couch as she said, "No, absolutely not, there's never been anyone like that. Only Marty. I'm just not like you and Alison, I'm not interested in other women." I didn't believe her for a moment, but she was so clearly uncomfortable that I decided not to push it any further.

The following weekend we decided to go shopping for clothes in the West End. We had a great time, and Andi persuaded me to buy a couple of quite pretty dresses that I would never even have looked at in the past. We decided on the spur of the moment to catch a show, and saw a witty romantic comedy musical. Then I took Andi to my favourite restaurant, Café Pacifico in Covent Garden. It's a big old warehouse with lazily circling ceiling fans, huge windows that they remove on warm days, and some of the best Mexican food this side of the Rio Grande. We washed it down with strawberry margheritas and a couple of bottles of sweet dark Negro Modelo beer, then made our way home. Martin had travelled a couple of hundred miles away to see Spurs play, so we knew he wouldn't be back till late, and we sprawled on the couch giggling like naughty schoolgirls, guzzling sparkling white wine to top up the Mexican booze. 

Four Weddings And A Funeral was on the TV, one of Andi's favourite movies, and not only because of the presence in it of her near-namesake Ms McDowell. I'd never seen it before, and I thought it was sweet and funny. Towards the end, after my hectic day, I was beginning to feel sleepy and, lolling sideways, I rested my head on Andi's shoulder. Engrossed in the movie, she shifted position slightly to make me more comfortable. A few minutes later, as the closing credits rolled, Andi smiled down at me. Our lips were inches apart…

I couldn't honestly say for sure who started the kiss, although I'm convinced deep down it was her. All I know is that suddenly we were snogging – a beautiful English word for the kind of kissing you might see teenagers doing in a bus shelter late at night, one long, deep kiss which somehow, at the same time, encompasses lots of little kisses. Andi eased herself back into the corner of the couch, partly pulling me on top of her, and her left arm slipped around my neck. Entirely on auto-pilot, my hand gently tugged her T-shirt out of the waistband of her jeans, and slipped beneath it, resting on her warm, soft midriff. With a mixture of delight and amazement I felt her right hand cup itself around my left boob, outside my own T-shirt. I slipped my hands around her body under the shirt, pressing my palms to her back. My fingers were actually resting on the strap of her bra, about to uncouple it, when she kind of gasped, and instead of cupping my breast her hand was pressing against my chest, pushing me off of her.

We both sat up, me hot and bewildered, Andi red in the face and gasping for air. She shook her head wildly and, between sobbing breaths, she cried, "I'm sorry, I just can't do this. I'm not, I mean, I'm not like you and Ali, I don't like girls." It was on the tip of my tongue to observe that she seemed to have liked reaming out my mouth with her own tongue seconds earlier, but she continued, "I know you want me to be Alison for you, but I can't, I'm not her, I'm me." Holding her head in her hands, she moaned. "I love my husband. I do."

I felt as if I'd been kicked in the gut. It was a warm evening, but suddenly it was as if the temperature in that room had dropped five hundred degrees. I put a hand on Andi's arm but she shrugged me off, refused to look at me. Slowly I stood and made my way to the door, towards the stairs to my bed. I felt I had to say something though. At the door I turned, and gazed at her. "You may look a lot like Ali," I said, "but you and she are totally different people; nobody knows that better than me. If you want to know the truth, I'm not sure how much longer Ali and I would have lasted if she'd lived. But one thing I am sure of: when we were making out just now, you and me, I knew exactly who I was with, and it was Andi I wanted to make love to, not Alison." I felt my throat close and my eyes sting, and I headed out of the door and up the stairs. Never in my life had I gone from feeling so great to feeling so low.

I spent a restless night, and the following morning I got out of bed aching, tired and with red eyes from crying.  I heard Andi in the kitchen and, after showering, I went downstairs pretty much expecting to be told to clear my things out before the day was over. In fact Andi, dressed for work as normal, greeted me with her usual cheerful smile and trilled, "Morning. Are you about ready to go? I've made your toast and coffee." I was stunned. I wasn't sure whether, with the help of the booze, she'd somehow banished any memory of the previous evening's events from her mind, or whether simply pretending they hadn't happened at all was her way of coping with the situation: I suspected the latter. All through the journey into work I expected her to make some reference to what had gone on, but she never did; not then, not that evening when, once again, we were alone together in front of the TV, and not in the days that followed. If she noticed that I was unusually quiet and brooding that week she showed no sign of it, which was amazing – even Martin asked me one evening if I was coming down with a cold or something. 

The truth was, I felt frustrated, confused, and more than a little hurt. I was distracted at work, too. Joel felt the need to take me aside to ask if there was something on my mind. I blurted the whole thing out to him and ended up in floods of tears. Sweetie that he is, he made me a cup of coffee, closed up the gallery and whisked me off to lunch. As I sipped an expensive post-meal brandy, Joel cupped his hand over mine and told me, "You know what you need, Suki honey? To get out of that place, make a complete break with the past and forget those girls. Then you need to go to a club, find some nice young dyke, and get yourself good and laid." Deep down I knew he was right. One problem was, I didn't really like clubbing. Ali and I had been home-birds at heart, and the idea of screaming small-talk over a pumping techno beat to some complete stranger, wondering if I'd be screwing her an hour later, just didn't appeal. The main problem though was, when I really got down to it, I couldn't bear the thought that I might never see Andi again, might never get to talk to her again.

So I tried to play her game, just accept her as a friend and forget that Sunday evening had ever happened. I did my best to be as normal with her as I had previously, but it wasn't easy. On numerous occasions, after hours of closeness to Andi, I returned to my bedroom feeling hot, sweaty and close to tears, and several times I frigged myself to relieve the tension I was constantly feeling. After two weeks I just couldn't take it anymore. On Saturday morning, faced with another full day in Andi's company, I went for a long solo walk on Hampstead Heath. I must have been there for maybe six hours, and by the time I returned home – to Andi's home, not mine, not really – I had firmed up my resolve to move out. I told Andi that evening, saying I'd imposed on her and Martin for long enough. She looked as if I'd slapped her and just said, "Oh", then she was quiet for the rest of the day. We spent an uneasy evening watching TV, and she barely acknowledged me when I wished her goodnight and went to my room. I quickly packed my bags, then slipped into bed and cried myself to sleep.

Strangely, having finally made the decision I knew I had to, I had my best night's sleep in quite a while. I showered early, then sat on my bed listening until I heard Martin leave for his regular soccer game. Then I grabbed my bags and walked downstairs, leaving them in the hallway. I entered the lounge and saw Andi sitting on the couch, wearing a nightdress, dressing gown and carpet slippers. She swivelled to look at me as I entered the room, and it looked to me as if she'd been crying. I shrugged and said, "I'm off now. ‘Bye."

She made a move as if to stand, then sat back again. After a moment she asked me if I had anywhere to go. "Sure," I lied, "I've got a place sorted out". The ‘place' was actually a budget Australian backpackers' hostel in Earls Court which I hoped would have vacancies. 

Andi turned away from me and sipped a cup of tea. I was about to leave when she said, so quietly I almost didn't hear her, "Please don't go." I paused, and asked her why not. Turning to face me again, fighting back tears, she squeaked, "I'd miss you. As a friend."

I felt myself sigh. "Andi, I'm sorry, it's just not enough." I almost went and sat beside her on the couch, but I felt that would be a mistake, weakening my resolve even further than she already had. I tried to explain. "Andi, I've fallen in love with you. Not you the woman who looks like Alison; you, the sweet, gentle, funny lady whose house I share, whose got so many qualities I never saw in Ali. I didn't mean it to happen, and I'm sorry it did, but I can't help that now. Going away from you is gonna tear me apart; but honestly, staying here is killing me."

She turned away again, and her shoulders heaved. It looked as if she was going to start sobbing, and I didn't think I could take that. But as I turned to leave again, she stood up and walked quickly over to me. I expected maybe a handshake, just conceivably a slapped face. I didn't expect what actually happened: she gripped my face tightly between her hands and kissed me hard on the lips, sliding her tongue deep into my mouth! I stood like a dork, my hands hanging by my side, as Andi hugged me and laid her head on my chest. "Oh God, I love you too Suki. So much it terrifies me. I couldn't stand it if you leave, please don't." When she kissed me again I was ready. Our arms tightly around each other, our tongues intertwining, she pressed her soft, warm body against mine as I leaned back against the doorframe.

I had a slight nagging fear that Andi might lose her nerve and pull back again, but at that moment I felt more horny than I could remember in an age, and I was going to take things as far as I could as fast as I could. Pushing her dressing gown quite roughly off her shoulders, I attached my lips to her left boob through the flimsy nylon nightdress and flicked her nipple with my tongue. She gasped, "Oh God," and pressed her hands to the back of my head. Then she murmured, "Not here – let's go to bed."

The ten seconds it took us to get from the lounge to the bedroom – not mine, but the one Andi shared with her husband every night – were the longest of my life. All the way up there, as I dragged her by the hand, I worried that she might change her mind. I needn't have bothered. The moment we were in the room she ditched the nightdress and slipped under the duvet, pulling it up around her neck in a curiously shy move given what we were about to do. Seconds later a pair of cotton panties followed the nightdress onto the floor. She watched me with huge eyes as I tore my clothes off and climbed in beside her.

As I settled into the bed Andi hugged me tightly and, as I wrapped my arms around her, I felt her trembling, like an abandoned fawn. For maybe twenty minutes I just held her in my arms, shushing softly into her ear and sharing tender kisses with her as I let her get used to the feel of a naked woman lying beside her for the first time. I remembered how that felt: breasts to breasts, nipples rubbing against nipples, belly to belly, smooth legs mingling together. That first time it's quite an experience. We didn't speak, just kissed, then Andi cupped a hand tentatively around my naked breast, and I felt her other hand stroking my butt. I took that as my cue to move on, and started kissing my way down her body. I kissed each eyelid, then nibbled her earlobes and ran my tongue around the contours of her ears – she really liked that. I kissed the tip of her nose, took her lower lip between my teeth and gently massaged it, kissed the point of her chin. Then I ran my lips around her throat. Already her hips were beginning to lift off the bed in arousal, but I wanted to take my time, to enjoy this as much as I wanted Andi, my lover, to enjoy it.

I traced my tongue down her chest, between her breasts, then licked a figure of eight around them, causing her to gasp sharply. I kissed her on the cheek and stroked her hair for a minute or two then went back to her chest, sucking a tit into my mouth and teasing her small, hard nipple with my teeth. Her breast felt bigger in my mouth than Ali's had, her skin much softer and more pampered. As I kissed and licked her breasts turn and turn about, swapping my mouth and one hand over, Andi, her eyes fixed on my face, started panting with short deep breaths, and her fingers tangled in my hair. She shuddered as I stroked my fingers across her belly, then slipped them down into her pubes. I'm shaved clean down there, but Andi's coarse black hair was neatly trimmed, and felt like a soft Brillo pad against my palm. Still sucking on her boobs, I eased a finger into her, pressing softly against her clit. She squeaked and bucked hard, and I momentarily lost my position, my finger slipping deep inside her pussy. I kept it there, added another one and flicked her clit with my thumb. Now Andi's eyes rolled back in her head and, her hips moving in rhythm with my hand, she began whispering her own private litany: "oh fuck, oh shit, oh Christ, ooohGodohGodohGod, oh Jeeesus."




Falling In Love Again



I'd only been caressing her pussy for maybe a minute when her thighs clamped on my hand, her hips started bucking wildly, and she gave a loud moan which rose in pitch and volume until it was a howl of release. I fought to keep my hand inside her, finger fucking her fast and pushing at her clit, and after about ten seconds she subsided with an enormous release of breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. I barely gave her a chance to recover. I love eating pussy, and I couldn't wait any longer to feast on Andi's. She had a neat little slit with labia that hardly showed, unlike mine which stand out maybe two inches. I rubbed my nose up her length, savouring the aroma of female cum for the first time in months. She whimpered, and I grasped her thighs in my hands and dove into her, thrusting my tongue deep insider her, my nose rubbing against her clit. Pushing most of the fingers of one hand into her I fucked her deeply and rimmed her pussy with my tongue, then licked down her perineum to the small puckered opening of her ass, and back again. I licked the whole area, soaking her inner thighs, her butt hole and the bottom of her cheeks, repeatedly breaking off to taste her pussy again, and savour her sweet sexual fragrance. I was able to keep it up for several minutes, listening to her keening like a wounded animal, before she came again, like a damn bursting, and I tasted the full force of her nectar on my tongue.

As Andi sank back into the bed again, her breathing slowing, I was ready to go pearl diving again, but she tugged gently at my hair and whispered tearfully, "Come and kiss me – please." I slid back up Andi's body and pressed my wet mouth to hers, slipping my tongue between her lips to let her experience the taste of herself. We kissed for a while then, slightly stunned by the sheer intensity of the last few minutes, I lay back beside her to regain my breath. Andi lay beside me, resting her weight on her forearm, her right breast resting softly against my shoulder. Tears in her eyes, she gave me a lovely smile and murmured, "Thank you Suki – I love you. I really, really needed that." She lowered her lips to mine and we kissed tenderly. Then she snuggled into my armpit as I put my arm around her shoulders.

After a couple of minutes Andi smiled up at me and said, "You know the other week, when you asked me if there had ever been any woman I was attracted to? Well, that time when I was 15, when I saw Ali with her head between Denise's legs, for days afterwards I fantasised about Ali doing that to me. I even masturbated imagining how it might feel. I would have been terrified to do anything myself, but for a while I actually started finding excuses to be naked in our bedroom when Ali was around, hoping she might do something to me, but she never did. Nobody's ever kissed me between my legs – until you, just now. I wouldn't have believed just how incredible it feels, I've never known anything like it."

She was silent for a moment, then she asked me whether she was anything like Ali in bed. I pushed her onto her back, kissed her deeply, my hand cupping her breast, and told her I didn't want to think about Ali: all I wanted to think about was her, the lady I so desperately wanted to make happy. I nuzzled and licked her ear again and she groaned with pleasure. Then, pushing me back again, she moved her head down to my chest. She gazed at my breasts for fully fifteen seconds – mine are slightly larger than hers, my nipples bigger and pink as against her small brown sultanas – then, slowly, with great tenderness, she kissed my nipple and closed her lips over my breast. I felt a river of warmth flow from my boob to my pussy, making my stomach churn and my snatch even wetter than it already was. Removing her mouth for a moment – to my disappointment – she rested her head on my chest, and said quietly, "Suki, darling, I really want to do for you what you did for me. But, well, it's so different to anything I've done before, and I'm a bit scared." I laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, telling her I loved her and whatever she did was fine by me; I didn't want her to do anything she didn't feel comfortable with. I recalled that it had been a full week before I had been able to bring myself to go down on Ali for the first time.

Seemingly comforted, Andi started kissing my breasts again, and her hand rested on my bare pubic bone. Around a mouthful of tit she murmured, "Wow, you're so warm." Then her hand glided down to my slit and a couple of fingers slipped into me. I started to ask her if she was sure she was ready for that, but the feeling was so amazing I couldn't find my voice, and I just lay back and exalted in the twin fires in my chest and my pussy, which were meeting as an inferno in my belly. It took Andi a while to find my clitty, but when she did she started nipping it between her thumb and forefinger, and white hot flares started shooting through my crotch. She managed to get her other three fingers into me as well, and wiggled them around. As I began to pant she asked me, "Is this all right?" Almost too breathless for speech, I told her it was so, so fucking right; well, something like that anyway, who really remembers what you say at that moment? It wasn't long before I felt my pussy flood, and I squeezed Andi in a bear hug as I came.

We did a lot more kissing, cuddling and general canoodling, and I ate Andi out again before we decided we'd better change the bedclothes before Martin got home.  After that, we could barely keep our hands off each other. We spent part of every evening when Martin wasn't around in bed together, and it didn't take Andi a week to taste my pussy for the first time. She did it on our third time together and, Jesus, she was a quick study. By the time we celebrated our first week as lovers she was enjoying the taste as much as I did, and she was turning me inside out with her long, busy tongue. The first time we sixty-nined was really special. That's my favourite position, and it was so lovely to hear Andi wailing with pleasure as she pleasured me in return, and to feel her coming on my face over and over even as I gushed my own juices onto her tongue.

Being with Andi was having a remarkable effect on me. My lovemaking with Alison had always been intense, full of passion and constant activity. With Andi there was far more affection in bed and less aggression, a lot more just holding each other and, yes, snogging, with lots of tender words shared between us. I loved Ali when we were together, of course I did. But I was overwhelmed by the sheer depth of love I felt for Andi, so deep it hurt, and the way I wanted to be with her every moment of every day. The way she looked at me, and the way she kissed me, and the way she held me in her arms, I didn't have the slightest doubt that she felt exactly the same way about me.

On our ‘two-week anniversary' we agreed we had to tell Martin. It would have been so much easier to keep our affair quiet – exposing it would mean we'd have to move out of Andi's lovely home, she'd be ostracised by her parents and they would no doubt want to disembowel me, not only having seduced both their daughters but also ending the rock-solid marriage of one of them. But we really did want to be together and express our love openly, and it wasn't fair to creep around behind Martin's back, not the way we felt about each other. It was Andi who raised the subject, and she made it quite clear she had thought through the consequences and was as prepared for them as she could possibly be.I wanted to be with her when she told Martin, but she insisted it would be better if I wasn't. So the following evening I went for a drink in Covent Garden with a few friends, although my mind was back home, wondering what terrible emotional scene might be being played out.

When I returned to the house I found Andi sitting alone in the lounge, looking slightly stunned. As I sat beside her, taking her hands in mine, she turned her face to me and said, "A rather extraordinary thing has happened. I told Martin we needed to talk about something, and he agreed. Then he proceeded to tell me all about the man he's been having an affair with for the last three years. He assumed I'd already worked it out – I never even got to tell him about us." She looked as if she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I hugged her to me, as much as anything to stop her seeing the huge grin I couldn't keep from spreading across my face. We did tell Martin, together, the following evening. He didn't seem particularly surprised. He had already arranged to move in with his boyfriend – his wife had walked out on him – so it was agreed that Andi and I could stay in the house until it was sold.

That was six months ago. Andi and I now share a bright, freshly decorated, purpose-built flat in South London, miles from the old house. It's a sweet place but it's a lot smaller, of course, and I'm surprised how well Andi's settled in. Being in love helps, I guess. Her mother's accepted us too (though her father is still refusing to speak to Andi, let alone me). Mom blames her husband for losing her one daughter, and she's not going to lose Andi the same way. She's even polite and friendly to me, to my face. I don't suppose she loves me like another daughter, but it turns out she never really liked Martin in the first place. As for me, right now I feel more contented, emotionally and sexually, than I ever have before, and I really believe it's going to last. I love Andi more every day, and I would like nothing better than to spend the rest of my life with her.



Falling in Love Again



"Man! That one's going to make me go home and burn through an entire box of tissues!" Craig enthused, watching as the nude and curvy blonde on the catwalk sprinted back to the brass pole, leaping into the air to grab it with her dainty feet and hang upside down for a split second before slipping slowly to the floor, a practiced smile sculpting her cherry red lips.

"She's Cute," Joey agreed, sipping his watered down soda. "But her tits are too big." Craig rolled his eyes.

"We're here to have fun, Joey. None of that mourning shit."

"What? Just because I said her tits are too big?" Joey's hazel eyes sparked with barely contained anger. "Not every comment I make about a woman is because I'm comparing her to... I just can't win with you can I? I mean fuck, Craig." Getting to his feet, he snatched up the pack of cigarettes on the table and started for the exit.

Around him, patrons of Club Eden were mingling with strippers at the tip rail or on the floor, hidden behind cubicles for couch dances, or getting ripped off in the VIP room. 

He hadn't really wanted to come in the first place and didn't need Craig's attitude tonight. If his friend's idea of support were to constantly dissect each of Joey's statements, he'd take his chances getting by alone, even if tomorrow would be one of the most difficult days of the year.

"Joey!" Craig called, but the slight young man kept walking, his dark hair gleaming softly in the ambient lighting as he left the club.

Breezing past the bouncers and hatcheck girl, he only craved fresh air and the silent confines of his car. The lot was pretty full for a weeknight, and he settled into his late model red sedan with a sigh, pounding the steering wheel with his fists.

I promised myself I wouldn't think about her tonight, he chastised himself as he cranked the engine into drive, not caring what Craig had to say about all this later. I've got to get back to my life sometime. Blasting the radio, his car cut through the night, the windows down to admit a brisk breeze. Can I go one day without saying her name out loud?

"Damn it, Beth." The tormented tenseness in his face told him all he needed to know as tears threatened to spill from his long lashes. Nope. Not one day.

Thankfully, the next day was a blur. Helping customers load huge television sets and costly computer set ups into their enormous cars and SUVs, settling complaints from lippy college girls who acted as if they totally understood all the fine points of gadgets when he knew they'd be back in an hour with questions, or placating disgruntled grandparents concerning the incorrect game they'd purchased for their spoiled grandchildren.

By the time lunch rolled around on that unusually warm February morning, he shouldered the shame and went out behind the building to have a smoke and make a phone call. There was no way he could make it through this, the day devoted to romance and lovers, without a little help.

"Hi, Nancy. Is Dr. Hansen in today?"

"Yes, Joseph, she is. Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

"I don't know if I'd like to... It's more of a should situation."

"I understand," Nancy's soft matronly tone sympathized. "She's got a five thirty space available. Shall I write you down?"

"Would you?"

"I'd be happy to. We'll see you then, Joseph."

Flipping shut the sleek black mobile phone, Joey stared at his dingy, formerly white tennis shoes, then at his ragged nails.

"You're a fucking mess." He muttered to himself before stubbing out his smoke and trudging back inside to complete yet another meaningless workday.

**

"How are things going, Joey?" Dr. Martha Hansen sat perched on the edge of her expensive office chair, cutting through the dim office like a silvery knife with her long pale legs, white skirt, blouse, and jacket. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a professional chignon at the nape of her swanlike neck. With a gaze clear and sharp as winter ice, she surveyed her client from within an impenetrable calm. "So what brought you back to see me today?"

Joey floundered under her subtle scrutinizing study of his every move, his eyes flicking nervously from the arresting beauty of his psychologist to the dusty beams of spring sunshine slanting in through the drawn and mostly closed blinds. Inhaling a lungful of her disarmingly seductive perfume, he focused his gaze on her delicate porcelain hands.

"Same thing that always brings me back here," He mumbled, his slender fingers clasped together in self-conscious stress. "She's been on my mind a lot lately and I feel like a pussy. Today has been hell, and it's really hard not to think about her when I see all the couples out celebrating or guys buying flowers and things for their girlfriends. I needed some advice."

Dr. Hansen's fair and feathery lashes fluttered for an instant before she jotted something down in the notebook effortlessly balanced on one dainty knee. 

"Well, as I've mentioned before, you suffered a tremendous loss, Joseph. It's certainly not uncommon for you to have lingering feelings of blame and conflict. And I don't imagine the holiday today makes it any easier for you."

"I've got to get her out of my head," Joey frowned, running his hands through his handsomely tousled hair. "This has to stop. I went out with Craig last night, and though I didn't own up to it, three guesses where my mind was most of the time."

"Where did you go?" The question was asked as softly as drifting snowflakes on a chill wind.

"Club Eden." A delicate lift of Dr. Hansen's left brow confirmed she knew the nature of the club without his need to endure further embarrassment by elaborating the lusty specifics.

"Do you think being around all those nude women in such an arousing environment triggered memories of your intimate moments with Beth?"

Joey's eyes grew distant. In his mind, he sat in Beth's black leather recliner as she knelt above him, one calve on each arm rest, the dewy perfection of her delicate cleft just inches from his lips as she undulated to some sultry ambient music for a couple minutes, then giggled, collapsing on top of him to shower his chest with her dark silken hair and a million little kisses from her rosebud lips.

"Maybe." Joey conceded, returning his gaze to the woman sitting across from him. Dr. Hansen nodded almost imperceptibly.

"It's been..." She paused, flipping through notes taken in a diminutive script. "One year and five months since the crash. On a scale of one to five, where would you say your emotional pain level is right now?"

"Fuck..." He shook his head, curling a hand beneath his stubbly chin. "Maybe a three and a half or four. But I'm not doing meds again."

"I understand. Look, Joey. I'm going to ask a couple questions and offer some suggestions. They might be a little hard, but I think you're strong enough now to handle them. Don't worry. We're going to start with three steps today. Are you ready?"

"Hit me." He replied in the affirmative, flopping back against the plump chocolate colored cushions of her microsuade sofa.

**

A flock of tenacious crows scattered as Joey hurled the last of the trash bags into the apartment complex dumpster. Perching on cars, balconies, and even a couple on the snow-dusted pavement a mere few feet away, they cawed indignantly as he turned back toward the building, waiting until he was well out of reach before they returned to their contraband feasting inside the huge metal bin.

His footfalls echoed off the enclosed stair well as Joey ran the four flights up to his own apartment, his heart a pounding techno beat in his ears. It was exhilarating and felt rather good to push himself like that. When was the last time he'd actually run? He couldn't remember.

Back inside his own small one bedroom apartment, the evidence of his work lay sorted, stacked, folded, or bagged all around him. Leaving his apartment for a new start wasn't an option in this town. He was already at the maximum rent payment his income could support, and besides, he sincerely did like his place.

Deciding together that relocation wasn't a viable option, he and Dr. Hansen had detailed an uncomplicated and brief step-by-step plan to try and get his life back on track. The first step was now in full swing during one of Joey's infrequent evenings off, and it was bearing fruit... well more along the lines of ocean breezes.

After arriving home from his appointment and an impromptu trip to the grocery store, he spent an hour diligently sorting through the heaps of post, pizza boxes, and other debris accumulated over the last couple months. With less clutter to tend to, he had started to truly clean his apartment for the first time in a long time. And not just sprinkling that scented powder over the carpet before vacuuming, either. His efforts stretched far beyond plugging in a warming air freshener claiming to be scented like the sea. He'd been to the coast hundreds of times, and had only smelled rotting sargassum, fish, and that vague salty sea air. The air freshener, though a fanciful interpretation of the sea, was a hundred times more pleasant and helped contribute to a burgeoning atmosphere of freshness and life that had long ago vacated his place.

While sorting things room by room, he had taken a careful inventory of his belongings and those of Beth that still adorned his apartment. Especially the ones he'd been loathed to move let alone touch. 

A few make up compacts and tubes of lipstick still lay nestled against the wall on her side of the sink, and her container of pens and pencils still stood next to his on the desk in their...his bedroom. Even the closet still held memories, for hidden back in the corner behind an old cardboard carton he had discovered one of her small high-heeled shoes. It was black and looked almost new, and he wondered if she'd worn it more than once and why he'd missed it during the first early days after the crash and his subsequent attempts to box up most of her things. Had she worn those heels on one of their dates? 

When he'd finally worked up the strength and resolve to pull her black silk kimono printed with jade green leaves and tiny red rosebuds off the hook on the back of the bathroom door, his pulse had raced. Suddenly feeling light headed, he had to sit down on the edge of the tub, cradling the wispy garment to his chest as a traitorous tear slipped down his cheek.

"I miss you baby." He whispered to the stillness around him as he let the silken sash slip between his fingers like water. Raising the fabric to his nose, he thought he could still smell a hint of the heady tea rose perfume she'd loved to wear, and his mind took flight.

Memories returned of his darling Beth waltzing around their tiny living room clad in that kimono, holding the acceptance letter to the University of Michigan's med school in her dainty hands while golden sunlight wrapped her in its radiant embrace. Joey had stood by, trying to be happy and supportive though he feared that this new twist of fate would push their little paradise to the verge of collapse. The memories progressed to Joey holding her slender kimono clad body a few days later as they had breakfast in bed, discussing her plans to attend the prestigious college. And most difficult of all after many more days of arguing about logistics of her continuing education, the recollection of she in that very kimono one last time, slumped against the kitchen doorway sobbing when he told her that leaving to go off to medical school when he couldn't afford to come along was inconsiderate and selfish. How her face had seemed so wan and pale, dominated by her tear filled brown eyes and the expression of shock and disappointment his words had caused. Only a few days later, she would die in an accident, her car skidding on the icy roads to collide with a truck in the other lane, while driving back from apartment hunting, hoping to find a place they could afford together to ease his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Bethie," Joey's voice broke as he clutched the bit of lingerie closer, his eyes squeezing shut to try and stop the pain and tears.

Silence pressed in around him and soon soothed his inflamed heart. Like a soldier staggering ever onward despite a fatal gash to the chest, he got up and determinedly left the bathroom, the black kimono draped over his arms.

With great care, he lay the garment on his pillow, turned up one of his favorite songs, and began to clean in haste while he sang along to the underground UK band's latest hit, determinedly not looking at the heap of black silk on the bed.

"You're the catalyst that makes things faster," Joey yelled along with the lead singer as he tossed clothes into the basket to wash and shelved long neglected books.

By the time the western sky was streaked with pastel pinks, oranges, and even a little brilliant gold, he was well on the way to completing the next step of Dr. Hansen's suggestion.

Standing at the stove, now accompanied by The Cure, Joey contemplatively stirred the beef, tomatoes, onions, garlic, oregano and other herbs to make the spaghetti sauce. The apartment was completely cleaned; a very handsome place once all the clutter and dust had been cleared away.

After cleaning, Joey had taken a shower, embarrassed at the difference he'd made and how far he'd let things go. The tiles around him gleamed and shone with the effort he'd put into restoring some order into his surroundings, and if anyone stopped by for an impromptu visit, which was unlikely, he wouldn't need to keep the bathroom and bedroom doors closed out of self-conscious shame.

Given the significance of this romantic evening for lovers, he put a bit more care into how he dressed. Selecting a pair of black slacks and burgundy dress shirt, he looked especially handsome, just as he did when taking Beth out to a fancy dinner. Daring for the first time since her funeral to put on some of her favorite cologne, he felt surprised and a little guilty that he wasn't overwhelmed with more torrential sadness. Rather, he got lost in memories of picnics in the park or brisk walks together down busy city streets in the rain. A smile touched his lips as he gazed into his own eyes in the mirror, his skin recalling the feeling of her lips and embrace while she breathlessly declared how nice his shirt smelled.

While pasta swished about in a low boil and the sauce simmered on the stove, Joey went to his coffee table and lit a small ivory votive. The golden point of flame danced gracefully atop the candle like a fiery ballerina in a soft breeze drifting in through the slightly opened window.

"It's tuberose," Joey said softly to the air around him. "I know it was one of your favorites." Shrugging sheepishly, he spared his shadowy reflection a glance in the glass, watching the sky darkening with each passing second. This isn't going to work, he thought as he returned to the kitchen. But the way I'm stumbling along now isn't going to work either.

The wine was chilled and the food was ready. Joey went to the stereo and put on one of Beth's favorite mix CDs, set a place for himself at the coffee table, then settled in to enjoy dinner for one, thus completing the last of three steps assigned to him by his gorgeous psychiatrist. 

The apartment had been thoroughly cleaned, including removal of Beth's things. He had planned a way to say good-bye that made him comfortable and held sentimental value. And, now he would enjoy one last romantic dinner with his beloved, ending a day that would hopefully be like any other next year when paper hearts and boxes of chocolates flourished everywhere he looked.

Reclining against the sofa with his wine glass in hand, he raised it for a toast.

"To you, Elisabeth Jane..." Pausing, he decided to continue on with what his heart had longed for; he began again, giving her his last name. "To you, Elisabeth Jane Davis. My best friend, my lover, and the woman of my dreams..." His words faltered and he propped them up with the strength of optimism that things would turn out for the best after tonight. "I love you. I'll always love you. And most of all, I'm sorry for the things I said to you. I just didn't want us to have any more worries, and it came out all wrong. "I know you're with me tonight, and I thought we could have one last dinner just for us." Tentatively, he kissed the rim of the glass, and then hoisted it high. "To you, my love. I miss you so much and won't ever forget you. Happy Valentine's Day. Cheers."

Downing the wine in a few determined gulps, he refilled his glass. As he contemplatively chewed a bite of garlic bread, Joey recalled Beth's first bashful dinner invitation, and of course she had served him this dish with a nervous smile and expectant expression in her beautiful eyes. 

They made love for the first time that night, and he finally knew the bliss of falling asleep in her sweet embrace as a tangible reality of soft kisses and softer flesh, not a long dreamed of fantasy. It had been beyond his most erotic hopes and lusty dreams. It was perfect.

After dinner and half the bottle of wine, Joey got to his feet, put his plate in the sink, and went to the bookshelf in the corner of the room to retrieve an album of photographs. Many were printed from their digital camera while others he had been given by Beth's mother to keep, including a couple featuring Beth as a wide eyed and adorable child.

Belly full of food and wine, Joey settled into the black leather recliner, album in hand to reminisce. It wasn't an act he looked forward to enduring, but as part of the greater attempt to fully accept and embrace the event and the full magnitude of his grief, he recognized that it was something that needed to be done.

Fittingly enough, when he was about a third of the way through the album and almost to the end of the wine, "Pictures of You" began to play. Flipping to the next page, Joey paused. Beth grinned saucily up at him from a blanket in the sand, her long dark hair capturing caramel highlights from the sun, her Gibson Girl body shown off to its best advantage in a lilac colored string bikini.

"You got one hell of a sun burn that day," Joey smiled, carefully tracing the clear cellophane page that protected the pictures with his thumb. "I remember rubbing aloe gel all over your back. Your skin was so hot but still so soft..."

Perhaps it was the wine, but his body felt warmer than it had before dinner. Burning all those calories running up and down the stairs, hauling bags, and moving boxes must have taken their toll, because he felt very drowsy and content despite the flood of memories revealed in the pictures.

On still another page, Beth lay dozing in the tub. She had worked a ridiculous amount of hours that day on top of classes, and though Joey had jokingly warned her about taking a bath when she was so exhausted for fear she'd drown, she just laughed him off. In the picture, one leg was propped up on the edge of the tub while she rested against the back, her arms folded behind her head as if she were posing. Her small breasts jutted upward as if in intentional defiance of gravity, strawberry pink nipples erect from the chill or her dreams.

Joey looked up from the album, rubbing his eyes. Fuck, I'm tired and it's only ten o'clock, he thought to himself, carefully laying the album on the near by table and pouring the last bit of wine into his glass. As he sipped, he got lost in his own mental slideshow of photographs, surprised at his ability to see the joy and beauty in them rather than focusing on the horrible ending that came just months later.

Somewhere down the hall, someone's speakers began to crank out a dance beat at an obscene volume. Joey closed his eyes, always unable to resist trying to identify the track. As he strained to listen, he relaxed, leaning back to put up the footrest of the chair, his arms resting at his sides.




Falling in Love Again



**

In the faint glow of the candle, Beth's skin shone as if brushed with gold dust. Her eyes were full of joy as she gently touched Joey's cheek once again. A smile of delight animated her pretty features as Joey's eyes opened a bit before closing again to accompany a soft snore.

"I know, I know..." Joey moaned, patting her small hand with his, then curling his fingers around hers. "I'm going to be late to class..." As he began to drift back into a sound sleep, a part of him came awake with shocking speed, and his eyes opened once again. "Beth?"

Beth's fingers squeezed his, her eyes sparkling. Joey's heart seized up and his breath escaped in one astonished whoosh. Sitting fully upright in the chair, he hurriedly glanced around his living room. All was as he'd left it, the bolt on the door still engaged. When he turned back to see if it had just been wishful thinking, Beth pulled her hand from his, lifting both of hers in a What the Hell gesture and offering a disarming smile.

"Okay. I'm going to start talking out loud here," Joey began, hastily stumbling to his feet and nearly overturning the coffee table as he staggered back from the woman kneeling on the floor. "In case the last year and change were a really shitty and realistic dream, you're not alive. I had to go identify your body because your mother was off with that slimy boyfriend of hers when the accident happened.

"I kissed your cold lips before they closed your casket. I fucking felt like my world had collapsed when I came back here to our place, and now here you are? What's going-"?

Beth's hands shot over her ears and tears began to rain down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, a look of pure anguish making her pretty features almost tragic.

"Hey... I'm sorry..." Joey fell to his knees across the table from her, his skin prickling with strange gooseflesh as he gingerly extended a hand to touch her bare left breast.

Instead of feeling clammy and cool, it was warm and seemed to pulse with life. Beth's eyes opened and within them he saw a trepidation that was heart breaking. But her nipple grew hard against his palm, and her small hands reached down to hold his hand there, her fingertips hot and silken against his wrist. Joey shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his free hand; uncertain of what was going on, but not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"I don't know what this is but-" Beth hastily pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head as she arched her back, pressing her bosom against his touch. Her eyes told him that trying to understand it all and dissect the details might break the spell, pleading with him to just focus on her and the moment.

Questions raced through his brain as his nerves sent back the signal that yes, this truly was flesh. Soft and yielding, and if his nose wasn't in on the ruse, he thought he could smell the coconut of her shampoo and faint tropical floral whisper of her perfume. His lips parted, the words waiting patiently there as reality dueled with generous thanks for whatever short circuit in his mind had given him this gift. Especially on this night of all nights.

"God... you have no idea how much I've missed you..." Joey collapsed to his knees beside Beth, gingerly placing a shaking arm around her slender shoulders, her body warm and vibrant as she snuggled against his side. Looking up at him, he knew the look of contentment he'd find in her eyes the instant it sparked to life. And as he'd longed to do ever since getting that surreal and terrible phone call at work, he lifted his other arm to wrap her in a covetous embrace, his throat filled with the suppressed pain of fifteen months. "God how I love you..."

Beth's fingertips glided down the back of his neck with silken familiarity, and she strained up to brush his lips with hers, the feel of her body in his arms the only thing he was sure of as he lowered his mouth to give her a kiss.

Where it had been cautious and unbelieving at first, their kiss soon grew bolder before blossoming into the pent up hunger of lovers long denied contact. Beth sighed, her hands roaming up and down his back over the stiff material of his dress shirt, her soft little breasts pressed to his chest.

In the feeble light of the candle accompanied by Sigur Ros on the stereo, they lay back on the carpet, she atop him, her hair filtering out almost all the light as Joey opened his eyes.

"I don't want to do this. I don't want it to end, and if I don't start it, it can't." His heart raced and his eyes burned with unshed tears. "Please, Beth. Please... What ever this is... I can't."

Sweet lips pressed against his as the gentle pressure of her fingernails against his chest alerted him to her unbuttoning his shirt. Allowing his hands to wander, his fingertips played over her shoulder blades, down the silky concave column of her back to her narrow waist, then gently daring to cup the firm rounded mound of her bottom.

Between them, he felt his blood racing through his veins, filling his mind with scarlet desire and his stiffening cock with frantic need.

Beth broke the kiss to slide down his body, her fingers working expertly with the buckle of his belt and zip of his pants. She didn't meet his gaze but kept hers on his groin, the tender pink dart of her tongue running along her lower lip as she tugged down his pants and boxers to allow the straining length of his cock to spring forth.

Wincing as the cool air hit his most sensitive flesh, Joey closed his eyes as hot little fingertips wrapped around his throbbing shaft. The touch was so divine it bordered on agony, and the combination of cool air and warm caresses soon had him gasping.

The opportunity to open his eyes eluded him yet again as he felt a feathery brush of lips against the now dripping and swollen head. When her lips parted to admit just a little of him in, the hot wetness and suction shot right through his being and he tensed against the unyielding floor.

A vision of Beth kneeling beside him on the deck of her mother's summer cottage grew vivid in Joey's mind as he felt more of himself enveloped by Beth's slow and sensual suckling. They had gone berry picking under cloudy skies, and as the first few drops of rain began to fall over the pristine forest, they grabbed their basket of blackberries and hurried back to the cabin.

Beth's mother was in the nearest small town shopping for groceries, and the pair of lovers had stood on the covered deck, falling like the rain into each other's sweet wet kisses, their thunderous heartbeats joined as they stood pressed together.

Without a word, Beth offered a mischievous smile and gestured to the lounge chair at the peripheral of the deck, and he went to it, laying back into the supportive nylon weave as she'd hurriedly pulled down his jeans to bend and take him into her mouth with a soft and hungry moan. It had been pure bliss, the occasional errant raindrop striking his cheek or arm while she sucked him to a hurried and tingling climax, opening her eyes to look at him as she swallowed, his softening dick still held snug between her full little lips as the skies darkened around them and the birds took shelter under the leaves.

Breaths that became moans escaped Joey as he opened his eyes to watch the flickering projection of candlelight on the ceiling. If he looked down at Beth, he knew it would be over and he'd be lost, and he wanted this to last for as long as his mind would allow.

With rapid up and down strokes, Beth worked her mouth over his cock, her hair sliding along his thighs with her movements as she sucked him hard as she could bear.

"Baby..." Joey groaned, his hips arching off the floor, the carpeting scraping against his shoulders.

Faintly, he became aware of the thumping beat down the hall again, and this only further fueled his notion that this couldn't be happening. His mind was merely making the most of his subconscious desire, using every chemical at its disposal for optimum enjoyment and realism. Even the soft moan through her closed lips felt and sounded completely genuine.

Soon, he became aware that the sensual dance had changed. No longer was his mind the lead in this fragile pas de deux. His body had taken the dominant role and he was rapidly barreling toward climax. With all the strength he could muster, he raised a hand to reach down, gently stroking her cheek.

"Stop." Joey panted, trying to sit up. Beth stopped, sitting up to brush the back of one petite hand over her mouth, looking down at him in dazed euphoria.

She bombarded his senses as she moved up his body, kissing her way to his throat, then his jaw, and finally his lips. 

Her body was trembling with need, her hands shaking as they went to his shoulders. Giving him an impossibly sweet kiss as she pushed herself upward with her hands, she parted her legs, her knees settling against his waist as she pushed the sultry sticky folds of her smooth nether flower against his cock. With a gasp, she rubbed against him, sliding back and forth a mere few inches to let the tip of him rub against her secret pearl. Joey inhaled sharply, reaching down beneath her splayed thighs to hold his cock steady, arching his hips to nudge against the snug and slippery channel of her sex.

One gentle push and he was inside her, the shockwave of ecstasy accompanying the movement enough to steal his breath. Beth gasped, the throaty inhalation enough to spur him into unstoppable action. Grasping her hips, Joey stared into Beth's face, lost in the exquisite tension he saw reflected in those fathomless eyes. The acute aching of her need and his attempts to fill it stretched out into every molecule of his being, and at that moment, he understood.

It had never been just fucking between them. It had been a reinforcement of the intertwining of two souls meant to be together. With every thrust, he opened the enigmatic flower of Beth's being, exploring all the tremulous corolla before venturing further into the heart of her; the parts of her that were made just for him to discover. She had opened and gave of herself, never shielding anything from him no matter the vulnerable layers he peeled back and explored.

On the afternoon Elisabeth was flung from this realm, her soul had slipped the crushed and hurting tethers of her body, taking along with it a part of him that could not be replaced. It was ripped free, leaving behind a screaming and pulsing wound. The excruciating impact of her loss left in its wake a butchered amputation of his heart and soul that refused to heal.

When she fell against him, their hips still working against each other, the months' long agony he'd known began to fade. With every slippery undulation, every frantic kiss and desperate embrace, he understood at last. Knew that while he had been maimed, he had not been the one to die.

"I love you..." Joey whispered, taking her face in his hands and crushing his lips to hers as he exploded inside her, her muscles throbbing and contracting to capture every bit of him as she went rigid in his arms before he inhaled her long trembling breath.

The music on the hall blared on. The music on their stereo played on. They lay on their side, her head resting against his upper arm as he wrapped around her, capturing her waist in his other arm as they closed their eyes, the soft brush of her hair against his chin a reassuring bit of contact as he started to drowse.

**

Staggering to his feet, Joey shambled toward the bathroom. His head pounded and his belly protested queasily to the sudden jerky movements as he made haste to the toilet.

Emptying his bladder, a vague sense of something huge and important snagged at the edges of his mind. What was it? Something just out of reach...

As he flushed, he padded over to the sink, glancing up at himself to see he was completely naked. In his haste, his flopping and flaccid member hadn't even trumped his blurry thoughts, which were focused only on getting to the bathroom. Often, he slept only in boxers, but rarely did he sleep nude. In fact, he gave that habit up when...

Gazing closer at his reflection, Joey looked at the half open bathroom door behind him. The one empty hook of the two screwed into the back.

"Beth's kimono..." Joey whispered, the memory bursting through the booze-clouded surface of thought to spread out like a colorful butterfly emerging from a battered cocoon.

Vague flashes of the previous night flew back toward him, blurred and unfocused save for one clear recollection. In the hazy hour before dawn, Joey had awakened enough to feel cold. As if a great rush of air had just made contact with his skin. Looking up, he saw Beth emerging from the direction of their bedroom, clad in her black kimono; an expression of boundless love in her eyes as she gazed down at her lover now sprawled on the floor.

Kneeling over him, she had kissed her fingertips, and then pressed them to his cheek. He longed to get up. He ached to grab her and steal endless kisses from those beautiful lips. She was leaving. Going back to whatever enchanted ether had allowed her this night, and he longed to wrap his arms around her narrow waist and hang on, drifting away with her into the mysterious realm where she would wait for him to return. But he was so tired... His eyelids fluttered and then fell and the world was blackness.

Washing his hands, Joey slowly left the bathroom. Glancing into the living room, he saw his clothes bundled in a heap on the floor by the chair. Saw the white ring of wax and metal wick plate in the votive holder. His wine glass lay on its side, apparently falling over unnoticed sometime during the night.

"What..." Joey began, taking one cautious step toward his bedroom. Another followed, and soon he found himself standing in the doorway, scrutinizing the uninterrupted blue and green pattern of the duvet. A few more steps into his room revealed that the kimono had not slipped off the bed. It was not wedged between the mattress and the wall. It was gone.

**

"So tell me about this new lady in your life." Dr. Hansen smiled, the expression carefully controlled but not able to hide a bit of the genuine happiness she was experiencing. She couldn't believe the metamorphosis one of her most troubled clients had made just over the space of one short year.

Joey stretched, long bangs falling into his eyes before he grinned, brushing them away.

"Her name's Melody. We've been working together for a while; I just didn't really talk to her much. But now... we're going on another date tomorrow. I made the reservations for a special Valentine's Day package last week, and I think she's going to be really surprised." Dr. Hansen wrote something in her notes, and then crossed her stocking-clad legs, the pale violet of her silk blouse shimmering with her movements as she smoothed her floral print skirt with her free hand.

"And you're doing all right with this? No lingering guilt or conflict over your past?" Joey's eyes shone with secret understanding and peace.

"All I can say is that your advice worked. Better than I'd expected. Maybe better than you'd expected. I just know that I'm alive, and I need to start remembering that. Beth would want me to remember that."

Finis



Falling in Love Again



Sitting alone in the dark of my home my hand rubbed my still aching cheek. My mind kept repeating "You're just not Nancy? My God man what's gotten into you"? It must have been about 4 in the morning when I awoke still in the armchair. My neck hurt, my back hurt, and my check still burned. I stumbled into the bathroom snapped on the light, screamed and snapped it off again. It just seemed too bright for my unprepared eyes. Carefully I reached over and adjusted the dimmer then tried again. This time it was much better, but still I got a shock when I looked into the mirror. One eye was swollen almost shut, and there was still the undeniable impression of fingers along my cheek bone. Had she really hit me that hard? This was bad... Yet somewhere deep inside it felt like justice had been done. I really was an asshole stepping out on Nancy... 

At six am the alarm clock just kept ringing and ringing. It nagged and nagged until at last I rolled over and shut it off. God I felt bad... Forcing my eyes open. I gazed into the picture of my wife on the bedside table. "What am I going to do?" I asked her... knowing full well, no response would come. "Perhaps you're right" I continued after a short pause. "I should work this out myself". Slowly I sat up and tentatively touched my face, then realized I couldn't see from that side. Rising I headed to the bathroom to check out the damage, and much like last night it was swollen and black, only now the swelling was enough to close the eye entirely. "I should call in sick", I said to the image, which stared back at me, yet somewhere in my mind I told myself "No". It was a foolish idea, for I knew it might take a few weeks to erase the signs of my folly. Even my conscience piped up saying "Besides you should suffer the embarrassment for what you tried", and so I called the office to tell them I'd be late instead. Next I prepared myself for a preliminary visit to the doctor before work, however it hadn't occurred to me that I couldn't shave. At least ways not until I lathered up the good side of my face, then stood gazing at my image. As I stool there in front of the mirror realizing if I tried to shave it would be hell to say the least it suddenly dawned on me that this had all happened before. Well not exactly like this, but there I was a young businessman with wild ideas, and I was trying not to get involved with my wife. I had gone out on a date figuring if I played around she'd not mean as much to me but I ended up getting slapped just like last night. The big difference though was then I had scratches, not swelling, and the result of my efforts ended up showing me, why Nancy meant so much to me, and ultimately in my marriage... Had I thought Nancy? I meant Joelle 

As the realization struck me, my legs began to shake, so I tried to support myself with my arms. They too shook so in the end I just sat upon the bathroom floor. This was not good... I was in love with another man's wife... I I I just couldn't think. Slowly I tried my legs again, and found that although they were not entirely stable I could manage. I moved back to the bedroom and retrieved Joelle's picture from the bedside table. Then as I held it between shaking hands I told her I was sorry. I felt like I had betrayed her, for I knew I had promised I'd never love another. Then perhaps in one of life's images of transition Joelle's picture blurred from sight. I knew it was due to the tears in my eyes but it seemed somehow appropriate. 

It took perhaps an hour to finally compose myself enough to dress and call a cab. I knew I couldn't drive with one eye, and was not about to try the subway. As it turned out, having someone else drive, was a sort of a benefit. I had time to reflect on my situation. I had thought that perhaps I should just tell Nancy, then live with my own internal struggle, but somehow that seemed cruel. I could I supposed try to have an affair with her, then in time perhaps she too would have feelings for me, but no that was wrong on too many fronts. Nothing I thought of seemed right, as each time I pondered a new scenario it ended up putting Nancy on the spot or hurting someone. All I really knew for sure was working with her would never be the same. Working with her Working with her The words just kept churning up again, and again, and suddenly I realized that was what had to be done. I had to quit. I'd leave and let Nancy live her life oblivious to my own pain. I'd try to keep tabs on her, and perhaps someday she'd be free again for me to pursue. 

When I finally arrived at work that day I was in for a big surprise. It was Halloween and everyone had turned out in costume. It was sort of a company tradition for each year the employees would dress up, work throughout the day, and then go off for the companies Halloween bash. The spouses etc would join their other half at the party, and everyone would have a wonderful time. I of course had completely forgotten about it, so I sort of stood out amongst the vampires, clowns, cats, etc until one of the employees complimented me on my mugged manager look. I had to smile at that even though it hurt to do so. Next came the big moment for as I turned the corner to my office I saw Nancy. She was dressed in a beautiful 16th century styled ball gown. Complete with an exterior lace up girdle, which thrust her breasts up and offered them as tempting morsels for the eyes of all men. When she moved the skirt portion seemed to float rather than sway and immediately I thought of Cinderella. 

As Nancy saw me she rushed to my side concerned with what had happened. Her hand reached up and delicately touched the swollen skin, her perfume filled my nostrils and my legs trembled. I tried to go to my desk and sit but as my first leg stepped my knee buckled, and I almost fell. Instantly Nancy was at my side aiding me to my chair. Her body felt so hot pressed once again close to mine, and my eyes couldn't help but steal a new memory of her breasts. She was asking me if I was ok, and what had happened, but I tried to assure her it was nothing. As for what had happened, I told her I had just been stupid, and hoped that now I had learnt my lesson.. 

All in all, the day was not too bad though. I had managed to get some work done and my eye recouped enough so that I could at least see. I had spoken with the company's president and informed him that I would be leaving, although I didn't offer him any reasons for this sudden decision. He in turn convinced me to stay on until January, as it was our busiest season and they'd be hard pressed to replace, and train someone at this time. I agreed to his time schedule provided my leaving was kept secret until such time as I actually left. I told him I would not stand for a party nor formal announcement, that it had to be this way. 

Nancy meanwhile wanted to know if I was going to the party after work but I knew it was not a good idea and told her no. After that, it seemed as though each spare moment Nancy found, she would come back and try to convince me to go again. For once I held true and flatly refused. I tried to explain that I wouldn't be much fun, and that I didn't feel well enough, but still she insisted. She even smiled a wonderful smile and offered to let me "sit" with her, and for the briefest moment my determination wavered. Suddenly the image of me sitting with Albert came to mind, and so once again I refused. Truly Nancy seemed dejected that I would not attend but such was the stand I needed to take. 

After I left work that day I returned home, but found I was merely sitting in the darkening living room. My mind was on Nancy, and I realized it was going to be a long two months if I stayed cold towards her. I tried to occupy my thoughts with TV, but quickly turned it off. I tried music but found a kind of melancholy sweeping over me, so at last I turned to my photo album. Perhaps somewhere in my pictures my wife could help me. As I turned page after page I found it seemed to be working. I started to remember the situations, which inspired them. The good times, the joy we shared, and then... I turned to the cabin. It was to be our dream home, and retirement place. Yet instead it turned out to be the cruelest memory. It was there that Joelle told me she was feeling bad, and it was there two weeks later that she died. I had never been back. Once again I found myself on the verge of crying, so I turned the page and the image caused me to freeze. Through the tear filled eyes I saw Nancy at the annual Halloween Party, shaking hands with my wife. Since this was Nancy's first party I knew the image was not her, so I wiped my eyes and looked again. This time it was indeed my wife dressed as Queen of the Nile, but pointing to another employee dressed as Queen Elizabeth. Dropping the book in my lap I kissed the tip of one finger then touched it to my wife's image. "Thank you" I said, then stood, and left for the party. 

Was it fate, or some other unseen force, which sent me to the party that night? I may never know. I like to think though it was Joelle reaching out to tell me everything was ok, but that I needed to be at that party. When I arrived it was already so late, but still I made my way through the revelers, a good number of whom were drunk, trying to find Nancy. When I had crossed the room once without seeing her I asked some of the other employees. Most were oblivious as to where she was, but one lady told me she had just left with a client. "What?" I shouted to myself then questioned her again Sure enough Nancy had come to the party alone and had been drinking way too much. She had also allowed a client to constantly dance with her, kiss her, and even fondle the tops of her breasts. Now rumors always have some basis in fact and thus it was that I felt ill. I had let Nancy down She had so wanted me there I refused And she then fell into opportunistic hands. I was such an asshole 

As I exited the building the cold blast of pending winter bit at my neck I didn't care. It felt as though I had lost my wife all over again. Slowly I made my way through the parking lot, and perhaps that might have been the end of it, but suddenly a horn beeped and I glared at its indignity for disturbing me. For a moment I saw nothing, then a sudden movement within a frosted vehicle captured my attention. That was curious I thought, so I moved closer, only to see the movement was an arm rising and falling. It appeared to be sewing or pulling on something, but that just didn't make sense, so I moved closer still. It only took two strides though for my eyes to see the prone form of Nancy. The man within the car was unfastening her girdle but I could already see her breasts were exposed. "No!!!" I screamed as my eyes took in the sight. 

Without thinking I raced to the car slipping on the slick pavement, and sliding into the door. The thump echoed throughout the parking lot but as the guy's head rose I already had the door open. Nancy's head was turning towards me, and it was obvious she was drunk. I also had the impression that only moments before, she had been passed out. As for the guy, he started to say "What the fuck" Then seeing me start to enter the car, said, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't know she was your wife". Perhaps it had been the look in my eyes or perhaps the mess of my face giving the impression I was a fighter, but in any event the guy literally pushed Nancy from his car then locked the doors. 

As I gathered Nancy up from the parking lot pavement, it struck me that her voluminous skirt had most likely prevented the guy from going too far. That would also explain why he was removing her girdle. For a moment I looked back at the guy in the car, and was somewhat relieved to see him watching in apparent wide, eyed fear. I had never thought of myself as a scary guy, and in fact had never been in a fight, so I was somewhat relieved this was the impression I had presented. Thank goodness I hadn't spared myself the time to consider my actions  With Nancy once again safe within my arms I now had to figure out what to do. I knew I couldn't take her back inside, for the innuendo, rumors, and impressions associated with such an action would at the very least destroy Nancy's ability to work within our firm. I couldn't leave her to fend for her self in this condition so my only option seemed to take her home to her husband, and face his possessive character. It seemed a small sacrifice to be scrutinized by him in order to insure Nancy's safety so I carried her to my car and placed her in the passenger seat. After closing her door I proceeded to the driver's side, started the car, and then fastened my seat belt. As it clicked into place I remembered Nancy had not been able to fasten her own, so I reached across her to do it myself. Suddenly I realized her breasts were once again mere inches from my lips. She'd never know Drawing upon my last resources of strength, I reluctantly moved away. Then putting the car in reverse I backed away. As I came out of the parking lot I suddenly realized I didn't know where I was going. I stopped the car, looked at Nancy, but didn't have the heart to disturb her. Instead I figured I'd take the info from her purse as I was sure she wouldn't mind. Putting the car in park I reached for it only to find it was not on my side. Not on hers either, nor on the floor. Had I picked up a purse? Did she have one? Where was her coat? Realizing she was without both I considered the possibilities. She had left them inside, or they were in the guy's car. In either case though I was not willing to go back and stir the pot of controversy or doubt, so I gently shook Nancy. "Nancy" I called, "Where to do you live?" "Nancy" "Nancy". It was no use I realized. She was too far gone, to get a response unless I slapped her back to consciousness and I just couldn't. Putting the car back in drive I made the decision. I'd go home and there look up her address in the phone book. 

Ok So my heart was in the right place, even if my mind was not... Now back in my driveway, I once again went to Nancy's side of the car, and gently lifted her out. She seemed to curl up in my arms, hugging me close, a memory which I shall treasure forever. More than this though, when I at last tried to lay her upon my bed, her arms did not let go, and I was forced to gently coax them open. For a moment after my hands released her I stood looking at this siren, which had so unwittingly captured my heart. I found myself softly stroking the stray hairs from her forehead, and allowing a fingertip to trace the line of her face then lips. They were soft So soft... They needed to be kissed Not like in the past, but softly as a lover would. I leaned in and as my lips approached and smell of alcohol filled my nostrils. What was I doing? This simply was not right. I could not pretend I had no control because of alcohol, for I didn't drink. I could not rationalize that it was ok for she had wanted this. It was simply taking advantage, and had I continued I'd be no better than the client I rescued her from. 

I rose from the bed, all the while watching. Allowing more and more of Nancy to fill my vision. Soon it became apparent to me that she could not, and should not sleep that way. Her girdle which had caused the client so much trouble still squeezed Nancy's waist, and I was sure restricted her breathing to some degree. I also noticed her gown ballooned up from her legs due to the skirt's stays, imparting an impression of a beached whale. All in all this did not befit my sleeping beauty so once again I lowered myself to the bed, and cautiously began undoing the girdle. I found myself treating Nancy like she had treated my gift, taking the utmost care in each stage. Soon the last intricate weave of the girdles ties slipped free and the twin halves parted. Tenderly I slipped my hand under Nancy, between the girdle and her dress then with the most delicate of upward pressures I pulled the garment free. Next I studied the dress itself and realized that it fastened by way of tiny hooks. They ran from, between her breasts, down to about her waist and were spaced perhaps a quarter inch apart. I suppose now it might have been quite comical to watch as my hands moved up to the first hook between her breasts, tipped as though preparing to unfasten then slipped away back to my lap. This happened three times before I opted to start at the bottom hook, which as it turned out could not be opened before the one above and above and Yes I was back at the top. I know my hands shook as I dipped between Nancy's soft breasts that first time. Shook as I opened the first, then second hooks. I had thought it would become easier as I moved down, but instead each successive hook revealed more and more of her body and it actually became worse. By the time I had managed the last hook my hands were shaking so badly it appeared I had some serious ailment. 

Now at last Nancy's dress was free to be taken away, so closing my eyes I lifted her upper body into my chest and slipped each arm free of the sleeve. I found my own breathing had turned shallow and my body was acutely aware of hers as it pressed into my chest. She had not moved voluntarily now for quite some time, yet it was apparent her body could sense the changes. Her nipples became hard, and pressed longingly into me, and I feared opening my eyes would inflame my own passion beyond my ability to control it. I held her there pressed closely against me, just breathing, building up my courage to continue. Then finally I lowered her back to the bed and opened my eyes. 

It would be impossible to describe the vision before me and do it justice. Yet to say that and not try seems and injustice in itself. Imagine then if you will, an angel sleeping. Her face, was a portrait of peace. Her eyes closed yet unhaunted by dreams, or worry. Imagine those lips, slightly parted yet moist and full. Her skin seemed a flawless mixture of graceful curves, and silken textures. Add to this the shadows and highlights of an autumn moon, and you'll understand why it was I once again brushed the stray hair from above her eyes, then leaned in and kissed those lips. 

How had I come to this???? There I was teasing her parted lips with my tongue then sucking softly upon the upper portion. Her hand caressing through my hair sent shivers up my spine but the soft moan, which followed did me in. I was swimming in the euphoric dream of making love to Nancy. I kissed her, caressed her, and told her how I felt. Yet somewhere inside something nagged at me. I tried to ignore it, to push it aside with my growing passion, yet it became stronger. I shouldn't do this... Struggling with my desires vs. morals, my head slid to Nancy's ear, and I whispered "Forgive me". I knew she wouldn't remember this, nor the advances I had forced upon her sexy body, yet the pain within myself dictated it be done. 

As my body rose up and away from Nancy I found her image had blurred almost to the point of complete obscurity. It was only then that I realized my eyes were filled with tears; tears, which I could not control. Perhaps it was better this way I tried to reason. If I could not see her then I'd not be so tempted. I knew that for each time my will faltered, the passion, or advances I made, became longer and more direct. I knew too that no matter how right that moment might be, it would still be wrong. I had to get away before it was too late  As I stood to do just that my eyes blinked and I saw Nancy's gown still bunched about her waist and billowing high above her legs. Taking a deep breath a reached out and pulled the hem. The dress slid easily now, down her thighs and away, leaving only her cheapy pantyhose and white cotton panties. I had already come so far And thus it was that I closed my teary eyes, grasped the waistline of both, and pulled them free. I heard the soft gasp, but dared not open my eyes, for I knew it would be the end of me. Instead my hands searched out the duvet, and I pulled it over her now nude form. Finally I dared to open my eyes, and was pleased that I had managed quite well. It only took a minor adjustment of the duvet before I was satisfied Nancy would rest comfortably. 




Falling in Love Again



As I approached the door to the bedroom something nagged at me. There was something I had forgotten to do. I looked back wondering what it might be, and at first the only thing, which came to mind, was to kiss Nancy good night. "No!" I told myself firmly "You must not!!!" I allowed my eyes to slip away from her now curled form, and then stop as they came across her gown Oh that was it, I didn't hang it up. Gathering the dress and girdle, I took them to the closet and retrieved a hanger, but as I was putting them inside it suddenly dawned on me that she couldn't wear this tomorrow. I looked back at Nancy, smiled, and then turned to face the closet again. From there I retrieved one of my wife's business suits. It would fit her I knew this, but more than that Nancy deserved to dress like this, and so I laid it neatly upon the vanity bench. The suit itself was a black, butter soft leather, with tapered jacket and knee length skirt. The skirt also sported a slit, which ran about 5 or 6 inches up the front, but it was positioned off center just above the right leg. I loved this suit, loved the way the right leg flashed as she walked, or peeked into view as she sat. I couldn't let Nancy though wear those cheapy pantyhose with this, and thus gathered them up and tossed them in the trash. Instead I retrieved a lace garter belt and a pair of new black seamed stockings. With stockings and the suit, the only thing Nancy might also require would be a bra and panty set, so I rummaged around till I found the sexy red lace ones I had loved so well. I knew that it might well be a big mistake giving Nancy all my favorites, after all she wore the angora sweater on a regular basis and that alone was hard enough to resist. Still though my mind wanted this and knew that tomorrow would be a great day!! 

For three hours after I left Nancy, I tossed and turned in the guest bed. My mind insisted there was something yet left undone yet I could not allow an innocent good night kiss. I suppose part of my troubles also stemmed from knowing Nancy was there. A mere 30 feet from me, she was naked, warm, and soft. Several times I even stood up and found myself wandering to her door, looking in and wishing. I knew I had to do something or I'd soon end up in bed with her, so I went to the medicine cabinet and took two sleeping pills. It seemed to take an awfully long time for them to work, I know because each minute, which passed, I fought the urge to just slip into bed with her. "Just on top of the covers though, I told myself" Yeah Right!! 

Finally the morning had arrived, and from the very moment my eyes opened I wanted to see Nancy. I realized as I stood that although I had prepared her clothes I had not prepared my own. I had nothing to wear save the clothes from yesterday for they were all with her in the master bedroom. Reluctantly I put on the ones I had, then rapped tentatively upon her door. "Nancy" I called out, "Are you awake?" There was no response. "Nancy?" I repeated then cautiously opened the door. She was not there. The bed was a shambles, indicating she had not made it yet although the clothes I had laid out were gone. I moved to the bathroom, knocked, and called out again, yet still there was no answer. Once again I went through the process of knocking, calling and searching only to find that she had already left. Why had she not waited for me? What did she think happened, and suddenly I realized what had nagged me from the night before. I was supposed to look up her address and take her home, not allow her to spend the night with me. What would her husband think, more over what would he do. 

Now out of fear for Nancy I rushed. I showered, shaved what I could of my face, and changed my clothes. When I tried to leave however, I couldn't find my keys. They were not in my pocket, not in the door, nor even in the car. What had I done with them? I just couldn't remember. I know that I searched high and low, yet I also knew in my aggravated state the search was less than conclusive. Finally I remembered I had an extra set for the house , and so long as I could lock the door, I could take a cab. I called the cab company then paced up and down. Where were they??? Come on Come on 

At last it arrived and I rushed from my home locking the door behind me. I entered the cab chewed the driver out for taking so long and then paused, as he asked "Where to?". Where was I going? "The office" I said, as though he knew where that was, but naturally he turned and asked the address. Angry, confused, and worried I glared back at him, and then chewed him out for his incompetence. I told you I shouted back "The office". Turning the cabby said in a remarkably calm voice "Look buddy, I don't know where you work". I had been so stupid of course he wouldn't know where my office was. Apologizing I gave him the address then told him to step on it, I was late The cab took too long I shouldn't have taken the sleeping pills I should have taken her home as planned There could have been a hundred excuses but in the end none really mattered. Nancy was not in the office. She had already come and gone, but more than this she had not spoken to a sole. "Dam!!!" I screamed out, noticing that I was now the center of attention. I had to think Where would she go? 

I went to my office, sat down and the phone rang. "Nancy??" I said as I picked it up But it was not. It was the president. "I can't talk now" I said hanging up. A few moments later the phone rang again, and I glared at it. I let it ring, and ring, and ring. It was distracting me, so I picked it up again. It was the president once more, so I hung up a second time without a word. I then pushed the do not disturb button, and tried to think Nancy Nancy where are you? My mind suddenly thought of home. Yes that was it, she went home. I looked up her number in the file and called. The phone rang, and rang, but there was no response. Of course not She wouldn't have made it back yet 

I had to follow her I picked up the phone and called the cab company again. "I need a cab now" I demanded as the president walked in. I gave them the address and told them it was an emergency. As soon as I had hung up the president said "How dare you hang up on me!". From somewhere deep inside I lost it. I told him "Fuck-It. Fire me I have to find Nancy!!" "Nancy?" the president repeated "What's she have to do with this?" I had already closed the distance between us, and had started to push him aside when I suddenly regained my composure and said calmly "I Love Her!! I have to find her I'm afraid for her" Suddenly the president surprised me. He reached up put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Ok You go Find her Here, take my car", and with that he tossed me the keys. As I exited the front door the president was calling after me "Phil Phil here this was on your desk" 

It was a letter from Nancy. My hands shook as I opened it, and continued to shake as I stood there in the street reading it. She said she quit. More than this though she said it wasn't because she didn't like working for our firm, it was just that I was driving her crazy. She said that being around me was blurring her ability to identify reality vs. fantasy. She said that I now occupied all her thoughts and even invaded her dreams. It seemed I would make love to her for hours on end during the night, causing her to awaken in a cold passion filled sweat, which would not subside. She couldn't sleep, couldn't be close without passion and desire taking over. She told me how she began acting upon her feelings, wearing sexier clothes so I'd notice. She had tried to fight it. To not notice my body, how I moved, my cologne, or even the smell of my hair. She had tried to fight the desire to be close yet each time found herself wanting more. I'd make love to her at work each time she allowed the merest opportunity. She fantasized about me kissing her breasts deep in the basement while searching for paperwork. She knew I'd never understand this eccentricity of age, and thus decided she'd have to fix it once and for all. It was a stupid plan one I could never have imagined yet one she was sure would work. She figured she'd screw me out of her system but more than this she'd do it almost in front of me so I'd think the worst. She had planned it for the Halloween party knowing I'd be there watching as she picked up a complete strange and let him have his way with her. Then I had to go and ruin it by getting attacked. She was sure it was a result of me saving a lady's virtue from some attacker, and as a result I couldn't or wouldn't escort her. I wouldn't see. 

She explained how at the party she began thinking it might still work, as I'd hear the gossip of her allowing advances and of leaving with a stranger. She told me how her courage was not up to it though, and how she drank and drank to build it. In the end she did leave with another man but instead of washing me away she fantasized how I had rescued her. She slept a wonderful sleep with that knowledge but in the end awoke in a stranger's bed nude and she realized it was just more wishful thinking. She had allowed a stranger to take advantage of her with the hopes of purging me from her mind, and now she only felt shame that she could have been so cruel To me! She asked me not for forgiveness or understanding but to know that in the end she felt she had no choice. Her last words were "I love you and good-bye". 

The paper slipped from my hands, floated momentarily, then captured a gust of wind and was gone. Tears were streaming down my face, and I crumpled to the ground. I'd lost her Once again the president was back at my side asking if I was ok, yet all I could say was "I lost her I lost her". Go to her he urged, make it work. Sounded simple but I knew I'd lost her forever. Life was just too cruel. First my wife dies of leukemia two weeks after complaining of pain And now my second chance at happiest vanished due to my own foolishness. I looked up at the president and said, "She never even knew it was my home"... He wouldn't have understood that, but it didn't matter. The cab I had called earlier arrived although I was not truly aware of it, and the president put me inside and told the driver to take me home. "Just wait for my call" he said, then slapped the good side of my face till I focused on him and repeated "Just wait till I call ok?" I nodded, and the driver set off to take me home. There I was in the cab, allowing the darkness of depression to sweep over me and fill the crevices left where my heart had been wrenched out. I contemplated ending it all, yet somewhere inside I still held that thread of hope. Hope, she'd be found, she'd come back to me. How could I be so foolish? She was married . Suddenly it dawned on me 'married' her husband! My mood changed. I was alive But more than this, Nancy still needed me. I might well have scared the poor cabby with my sudden burst of life, but if so he took it in stride. I told the cabby to change directions, gave him Nancy's address, and asked him to please hurry. If only I was not too late. When at last we reached Nancy's home I literally flew out of the cab and up the stairs. I banged repeatedly upon the door but there was no response. Desperate for confirmation Nancy was not being hurt I called the president on my cell. "Jim I need the number for Nancy's husband" I said as he picked up the phone, and after what seemed an eternity he finally gave it to me. As soon as I had hung up I started dialing again, and was surprised to find Albert Harding answering the phone himself. "Mr. Harding" I began "Hi my name is Darnell", I lied. "And I'm an associate at Clovis, Dunn, and Wallace. I was looking for your wife Mrs. Harding, but she did not report for work today, nor did she respond when we called your home. I was wondering if you might know where she'd be, or how we can get a hold of her". "Look Mr." came his response, "I'm not too sure what you're trying to pull but my wife is here, has been all morning". "Nancy's there?" I replied incredulously. "Nancy? Nancy? Oh I see" came the reply. "Look Mr. I divorced that bitch about nine months ago, if she's in trouble or owes money it's got nothing to do with me understand". With that Albert Harding hung up. Suddenly my head was spinning, he had said Nancy was no longer married. All this time How had I been so stupid I had to find her now more than ever. If she was alone and upset she might well do something desperate. I called the office again and told Jim to ask everyone if they knew of any friends, or places Nancy might go. I myself rang her neighbor's doors and questioned those who had someone at home to answer. All in all though it proved fruitless. She had simply disappeared. 

It must have been about 9:00 PM before I finally gave up. I was both physically and mentally exhausted, and my body, which had not stopped for even a moment was starving. "Take me home" I told the cabby and after giving him the address that's exactly what he did. As we approached my home I realized that its dark gloomy exterior mirrored my own growing depression. I did not relish spending the night without knowing. I feared for Nancy now more than ever before 

As I entered the house, I tossed my keys onto the hall side table and they immediately crashed into the set I had been looking for earlier. Funny that I could have sworn I looked there Picking the keys up, I suddenly had an odd feeling, so instead of looking at them, my eyes gazed down the short hall. There in the darkness was the silhouette of Nancy, and I smiled at the apparition. "If only you were real I called out." The apparition stepped forward, silent as the darkness, which enveloped it, save for the soft click of heels on hardwood. "Philip" The apparition said "I'm sorry I didn't know". My arm shook as I reached for hall light but Nancy's lips smothered mine before I had the chance. I could feel her body trembling, then realized it was perhaps my own. I can imagine my arm suspended in the air as it reached for the light. Slowly floating up and down trying to remember what it was supposed to do. I can imagine it moving instead to test the softness, and provide confirmation that the apparition was indeed Nancy. I say I can imagine these things, as I cannot truly remember what occurred. Somewhere in that kiss I was lost. 

I do not remember how we ended up pressed against the wall, nor when Nancy's stocking clad thigh began rubbing hotly against my own leg. I only remember her two hands reaching up and pulling my lips from her own. "No We can't", she had said, yet now my lips were upon her exposed neck. I heard the gasp as they touched. Felt her body rubbing against my own, and continued. In my mind though I knew she had spoken What had she said??? I felt her hand entwine within my hair, and pull me away again. "No . We can't", she said again between passion filled gasps. My lips bent to kiss lower still, then stopped just before touching her skin Nancy had said "No" I still felt her hand within my hair as I slowly moved my head up and back until my eyes could gaze into her own. I didn't have to say a word, for as I gazed into her eyes she said again "No We can't" Perhaps there was something within my eyes for after a long pause she said "Your, married" I remember watching as her eyes fell in a kind of sadness, yet it was one I could utterly understand. I remember watching, waiting for her to again look at me before cupping her own head within my hands and saying "She died". Her eyes filled with tears then perhaps as an after thought she said, "You know I'm" But I jumped in saying, "Yes divorced". Her eyes took on the most beautiful inquisitive look before I again kissed her lips. 

Now with no more excuses between us the passion grew and blossomed. My kisses were now whole-heartedly returned, as were my caresses. My hands explored the silken textures of her skirt, stockings, and hot velvety thighs. My lips moved to her neck again and she planted herself flatly against the wall and gasped. For a moment, as my lips entered the vee of her jackets lapels, I saw her hands wide spread against the wall clutch at nothing. Then her chest arched to meet the exploring lips. Another gasp ensued then a long moan, as I swept sideways to kiss the line of her bra. I could feel Nancy's body shaking. Shaking as my lips covered the hard nipple within the lace bra, then felt her hand grasp my hair and hold me there as I drew a long breath about it. I loved how her body shivered from feeling as the air rush about that hotly encased bud. Loved as she arched her back again, when I lightly scraped the nipple through barely closed teeth. Now Nancy's hands were pulling my hair up again. What was it she wanted? What had I done now? But I need not have worried for as my face approached hers she smothered me with passion filled kisses. 

Her hands began pushing my jacket off and I dropped my hands to my side to allow it to slip free. Then I grasped the lapels of Nancy's jacket lifted and folded them back over Nancy's shoulders. I knew this would temporarily pin her arms, however that was my plan. Thus with Nancy's arms pinned to her side I reached up softly squeezed her breasts and lowered myself to my knees. I saw her struggle against the material of her jacket but then felt her hips thrust forward as my hands caressed down her torso, over her hips, and on down her thighs. Suddenly I pushed up drawing the skirt with my hands and replacing it with my hot kisses. Her gasps urged me to continue until at last my tongue danced hotly along the leg opening of her panties. Her arms were once again free for I felt them tugging at my shirt, then slide away as my lips covered the front of her panties. She moaned then grasped my hair and held me tightly as my mouth, and tongue probed the lace for an opening. Her thighs began to quiver and suddenly she rocked forward and slid to her knees. I heard the ragged gasp as her body began rocking back and forth upon my mouth then felt it shiver and freeze as I sucked a hot stream of air through the lacy material. In that brief moment when she seemed frozen in place I acted. I reached up and pulled her panties to the side then slipped my tongue between the already wet lips. I felt another more powerful shiver race through Nancy's body, then heard the scream of passion as the tip of my tongue brushed her inflamed clit. Nancy's body seemed to snap away then realize it had lost that pleasurable contact and thus drove back. As she did so my head cracked into the hardwood, but we were both too far gone to stop. 

Now my hands were caressing Nancy's soft breasts through her lace bra while my tongue explored the sweetness of her body. I never allowed it to penetrate the deepness though, merely tease the opening and caress the folds. Again and again I would draw up, then slip away from her clit, but instead of begging me to taste it she started grinding on my tongue. I felt how her leg muscles rippled with each new taste, then surrender as finally I flattened my tongue pushing the sweet lips as wide open as my tongue would permit. Slowly caressingly I moved my hands down Nancy's torso until at last I could curl them over her thighs. Just as I did this I drew my tongue up between Nancy's soft lips, in a long flat pass until at last it grazed her clit again. This time though my hands had curled about her thighs and thus when she spasmed my head stayed with her. My lips now curled in to trap that tiny forbidden bud, and I hummed. I knew the tiny vibrations passing from my throat would be reflected in my pursed lips, and I knew how it would affect Nancy. Already I felt how her thighs squeezed against my head. I figured she was close now, perhaps closer than she had been in a long time, and wanted to make this experience wonderful. So this time with the nail from my index finger I scrapped along the side of a hard nipple. Simultaneously or as near as I could muster I drew the entire length of my tongue over her clit. Nancy screamed out and my tongue slipped deep inside to taste the instant result. She was cumming, and cumming hard. Her body bucked wildly but I fought with every once of my being to hold on and drag out the experience. I had waited so long to experience this, yet no matter how well I dreamed, nor how good my imagination, it paled in comparison. 




Falling in Love Again



I recall now that as Nancy's body came down off that high she slid next to me. I noticed that her hair was a delicate mixture of strawberries, and silk, as it brushed against my cheek, and I recall how she nuzzled up under my chin. I even remember how I just held her there for the longest time. She was so warm, and soft against my body, but more than that it somehow just felt right that we were together in each other's arms. I am not sure how long we stayed there though, but I am sure that in the end it was I who stood. Nancy had slipped off into a pleasant sleep, and once again I found myself gathering her into my arms and carrying her to bed. This time I took great pleasure in undressing her. I watched with fascination as each tender morsel of skin was exposed and marveled at how I no longer needed to ravage her.

I slept beside her that night and yet it was not as peaceful as you might have imagined. I awoke as I recall staring into the darkness, which enveloped me and feared it had all been a dream. I recall how I turned slowly with a mixture of hope and apprehension, only to find the bed empty. It can't have been just a dream Yet there I was alone. I gazed towards the bathroom yet there was no light. I gazed towards the vanity bench yet there were no clothes. How could this be? Had it never occurred or had she left me. My mind struggled for the truth, yet even then I knew. Nancy is out there and each thought and fantasy are true, only she never knew my own struggles. I never told her, never let on...



Falling in Love Bit By Bit



So she headed downtown and went straight to the bank of lifts reserved for the more exclusive residents. With very little effort, she overrode the controls and went straight to the top. It let out in a foyer.

The three naked people on the couch paid no attention to her. Indeed, they were so pre-occupied in what they were doing, they didn't even hear her.

Holland Campbell sat on the plush couch. Two girls were on their knees in front of him. Their mouths enveloped his cock. They took turns sucking on his head and playing with his balls. He absently fondled the girls's pendulous tits, but was more concerned with his own pleasure.

Miriam watched them for a moment before stepping forward, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floors.

The two girls looked up, something between surprise and hatred in their eyes. Holland took a moment to realise that they weren't alone, but his face quickly contorted in anger. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Ladies, leave us," Miriam said, nothing but contempt in her own eyes.

"Sweetie," one of the girls drawled, obviously talking to Holland. "We could have brought our friend if you wanted a fourway."

"I—" he started.

"Shut up," his co-worker replied. Her voice hardened. "Girls . . . I said get out."

The girls looked to Holland for a second, then at each other. He only glared at Miriam. There was an uncomfortable silence that fell over the room.

"It's okay," he said finally. "Come back tomorrow."

"No, bitches. Don't," Miriam's voice was curt. "Don't ever come back."

Her eyes locked on to Holland's. Neither spoke as the girls gathered up their clothes. They started to say their farewells, but realised that they were being ignored.

"What do you want, you fucking cunt?" Holland spat once the elevator doors closed.

"Oh, poor Holland Campbell." The mocking tone in Miriam's voice only fueled his anger. "You can't come in to the lab because you have two whores sucking on that little cock of yours."

"Goddammit! How the fuck did you get into my house?"

"Trade secrets, Holland," she replied with a taunting sneer. 

"I should call the cops."

"But you won't, will you, Holland?" With quick, deliberate steps she crossed the room until she was standing in front of him. He was still naked. She bent over so her eyes were almost level with his. "You won't because you're captivated by my tits, aren't you, 'Sweetie'?"

Unconsciously, his gaze went to the space between her breasts which were conveniently exposed for him to see. 

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you stare at me when you think I'm not looking," she continued. "The others don't notice because they're too busy kowtowing to the great Holland Campbell and trying not to piss you off. But you notice them, don't you? How many nights have you spent in the lab . . . stroking that cock and thinking of me sucking on it? Or riding it? Or bending me over your desk and fucking me in the ass? Don't look so shocked, Holland. I know how men think."

"Go fuck yourself!" He shouted. Holland's eyes narrowed. "I should have you fired."

"But you won't do that, either," she replied with a smirk. "You won't because no one else can clean up your code like I can. And you know it. You're great with coming up with ideas, but your execution is lousy. That's what your little tirades are about. The others don't really fuck up . . . You're just covering up for the fact that you really can't write code worth shit. So you take it out on them. They bend over and take it because they're all too afraid that you'll shit-can them."

"What do you want?" If looks could kill, Miriam would have withered before his glare.

"I want to be your permanent partner." Her hand reached out and caressed his cheek. "You come up with the ideas, I'll write the programs. And I want an equal share of everything we make."

"So it's 'we' now?"

"Yes, Holland, that's exactly what it is," Miriam stood up straight. His eyes went to her shapely figure. "And if you play your cards right . . . it could be 'us'."

She winked, and then walked back towards his bedroom. On the way, she pulled her blouse out of her skirt, leaving Holland Campbell sitting on his couch, watching Miriam's hip's sway. 

Her fingers had just undone the fourth button down when he jumped off the couch and went after her.

**************** 

"I've got good news and bad news," the agent said.

"More good than bad I hope," Colonel Jerrik muttered. The two of them watched the lab techs sifting through what was left of the mainframe. There was a glass partition between them and the clean room. Everything was laid out neatly but still fit on a single table. Next to the computer were the remains of three assassin bots. There was some discussion about this; there might have been four of the expensive robots, but their self-destruct mechanisms were so thorough, no one could say for sure how many there were.

"They managed to fry the positronic matrix in the mainframe," Special Agent Jim Rendel said. "And then they blew most of it up."

"Is that the good news or the bad?"

"The bad," Agent Rendel said with a dry smirk. "The good news is that we managed to salvage around three percent of the data."

"That doesn't sound very good," Colonel Jerrik shot him an incredulous look.

"All in all, it's not," the other man conceded. "But we did learn a few things. We know for a fact that nineteen have been destroyed or self-destructed to avoid capture. We think there were thirty-seven assassin robots built. Most were sold to the Chinese Hegemony. "

"You think?"

"Best guess," Agent Rendel shrugged. "Probably 80% accurate."

"So what happened to the other eighteen?"

The International Law Enforcement agent cleared his throat. "I talked with some of my contacts over at the World Parliament . . . They led me to believe that eight are in the possession of MI5—"

"What the fuck?!?!?!" Agent Rendel thought Colonel Jerrik's head was going to explode. 

"And the Chinese may have as many as five more." He paused to take a deep breath. "One slipped through the security cordon in New York . . . We don't know about the other four."

Colonel Jerrik began pacing around the room. Her face was red with anger. She knew that all the governments in the world kept secrets. Each had black projects that were deniable. Even allies kept secrets from each other. Relations with the Chinese were touchy at best, but for someone in London to have eight of the most dangerous assassin robots in the world and not to tell her about it pissed her off to no end. Especially after her task force had been specifically set up to hunt down and eliminated these robots and the British had promised their complete cooperation.

"Is there anything else in the mainframe we can use?" She was livid, but snapping at Agent Rendel wasn't going to get her anywhere. After all, he was just the messenger.

"Not yet."

"What about the robots? Can we learn anything from them?

"Other than the fact that when they blow themselves up, what's left will fit into a dustbuster?" Rendel snorted. "Unless you can sweet-talk the Limeys or the Chinks into letting you look at one of theirs, we're going to have to find a way to get our hands on one. We know that they can alter their appearance at will. They're shielding is so good they're immune to anything less than a class 4 EMP. They can fall 20 stories and land on their feet. Their biorhythm projectors can get them into any facility except the White House Situation Room. And one of them probably costs more to build than a casino in Vegas."

Jerrik watched the techs work for a few moments. She was channeling her anger as she had always done. She found that it focused her. "Do we have any leads on the one that got away?"

"No," Agent Rendel let out a bitter sigh. "She got away clean. And she's had a four month head start. The trail's gone cold."

"Until she hits someone else."

"The gunship should have taken the shot," Colonel Jerrik said ruefully.

"And killed a park full of kids? Not bloody likely."

"No . . . But if it got another one of those things off the street, it would have been worth it."

The sheer callousness of the colonel's words struck Agent Rendel as odd, but having seen the robot's capabilities firsthand, he wasn't sure she was wrong.

**************** 

"Do you like that, Holland?" Miriam asked, rubbing her breasts in his face. "Are they everything you wanted?"

His only reply was a muffled moan. Nibbling along the valley between her tits, Holland reached around and cupped her firm, round ass.

In response, she ground her hips against him. His cock was erect. Every time the head brushed her slit, he started to thrust upwards, but she pulled away, always just out of reach.

"Not yet," she whispered in his hear. "Suck on my tits, Holland . . . Make my nipples hard with your tongue . . . Oh! That's it . . . right there!"

Holland Campbell lay on his bed. Miriam straddled him, bucking and grinding against him. She was toying with him. He knew it. And he loved it.

"Tell me what you want." Her voice was seductive, but laced with control and authority. "Tell me how badly you want to fuck me."

"Oh, god, Miriam," he moaned. "I've got to fuck you."

"You what?"

"I want to fuck you . . . I want to fuck your cunt." His breathing was ragged. 

"How do you ask, Holland?"

"Please . . . please, Miriam . . . I need to be inside you."

"You're not used to that are you, Holland?" She thrust her breasts forward into his mouth. He tried valiantly to take it all, but it was too much for him. "You're not used to asking for things . . . You always get your way, don't you?"

Again, he tried to enter her, only to find himself thrusting into empty air.

"Not anymore, my dear." Miriam nibbled on his ear. He groaned in response. "You think you want to be in charge all the time . . . but you don't. You've wanted to fuck me since that first day you saw me in the lab, didn't you?"

His response was a grunt. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head out from her bosom.

"Didn't you?"

"Yes," Holland gasped. "I wanted to fuck you from the day you showed up!"

"I might let you," there was a taunting tone to her voice. She pulled on his hair again. He tilted his head back submissively, his throat exposed. Expecting to be insulted or derided again, he was surprised when her lips pressed against his.

Even though they were both naked, this was the first time they kissed. Her touch became soft and gentle. He stopped pawing at her. She melted into his arms. Their bodies pressed together.

"Did those bitches let you do anything you wanted, Holland?" Miriam pulled away after a moment.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Because you were paying them."

"Yes."

She kissed him tenderly again. Her hand ran across his chest, her fingernails leaving a trail of goosebumps across his body. 

"I'm not going to be one of your whores . . . You're not going to pay me. I'm not your plaything, Holland." Although her voice was soft, there seemed to be an implicit threat underlying her tone. Her long dark hair fell over her face and brushed against his skin. "You need me, Holland. You need someone who is your equal . . . That's why you don't date. You only hire tramps and sluts to satisfy your desires because you haven't met any woman who's as smart as you are . . ."

"Yes," he said again, pulling Miriam's body closer against him. "I need you, Miriam."

She pulled back and looked Holland in the eyes. "And I need you, Holland. I need you more than you know."

They kissed again, his anger replaced by passion. Her control slipped away.

Holland pushed his hips forward, and this time she did not pull away. They let out matching moans as he entered her. Her pussy was slick and she met his thrusts.

"You feel so good," Holland said. 

Inwardly, Miriam smiled to her self. She had him right where she wanted him. Wrapped around her little finger. She could manipulate him with his basest desires.

As they made love, Holland Campbell had no idea that the pheromone levels Miriam was giving off were eight times what a normal human woman was capable of producing. He didn't realise that her eyes were flashing a pattern in the ultraviolet spectrum that was shown to make humans docile and susceptible to simple suggestions. Nor was he aware that the only one who was experiencing any sort of physical pleasure was him.

She made sure to cry out and gasp at all the right times. Miriam told him how big he felt inside her and screamed with pleasure when he orgasmed. She told him how wet he made her and was amazed at how quickly he recovered.

All the while A617.D plotted its next move.

**************** 

"Are you sure this is correct?" Colonel Jerrik looked around the room. 

"Our source has never given us poor intel in the past," the analyst at the podium replied.

"There's always a first time," Sergeant Major Bohannon muttered.

"Have you been able to gather any corroborating evidence?" Jerrik asked.

"We have a few leads." Flicking a button on the controller, the analyst began a video reel that played on the holo-projector in the middle of the table. "Purely by coincidence, on the same day as the New York assassination, a combined force of SEALs and SAS hit a mercenary base in Peru. This group was the International Freedom Brigade, although they were really just out to get rich. We captured about a dozen people, most were just grunts and mercs, although we did manage to get one of the ringleaders. NSA ran him through the brain sifter and found out they had somehow came into possession of three of the robots. We think these three were the ones that pulled the Manhattan job."

"And two of them blew up on the Lower West Side."

"That's right, Colonel."

"So what happened to the third?"

"We don't know." The analyst shrugged. "You guys took out their manufacturing base, and the SEALs got the people pulling those bots' strings. Unless there were a secondary objective or some of the mercs got away, it would have reverted back to its last instructions. It's probably gone to ground."

"Until it takes out another target."

"That's the trick." One of the other analysts spoke up. "If it had no other instructions, we'll probably never hear from it again. It's been quiet for close to a year now. With no one to give it orders, it doesn't have any direction."

"So what's the danger?" Sergeant Major Bohannon asked.

"Right now? None. But there could be one in the future." The two analysts exchanged a worried look. "Two actually. Let's assume that the bot's owners are out of the picture. We haven't been given access to the machines the Brits and the Chinese are sitting on, so we're going on mostly conjecture at this point. The robot's core behaviour is probably a stealth mode. These are expensive things and they wouldn't be used on just any job or in frontline combat. So the owner would want its bots to return to base or hide out until they were needed again. In this case, it stays hidden because there's no base to return to and the owners are in jail or they had their brains turned to jelly by NSA. But what if there's a hardwired command code that someone could use to override its basic functions? We won't know unless we can get MI-5 to tell us 'cause we all know the Chinks aren't going to let us snoop around theirs. I don't think it's likely, but someone might be able to reactivate this bot."

"What's the other danger?"

The analyst at the podium paused, took a drink then cleared his throat. "These robots are some of the most advanced models we've ever seen. The bits and pieces we have show a level of technology that must have been stolen from Nakamoto or USR because no one else is even close. I believe these robots can not only learn from their mistakes but have a positronic brain that's close to sentient. Without direction, this robot could actually 'wake up' and strike out on its own . . . or drive itself crazy."

"How crazy?" Colonel Jerrik's eyes got dark.

"Let's put it this way," the analyst said. "Best case: the robot goes to ground and stays there. We never hear from it again and its power core burns itself out in thirty years."

"And the worst case?"

"It tries to replicate itself and goes on a massive international killing spree." He paused for a second to let that sink it. "Remember these things have one sole purpose: to kill humans. That's what they were built for. Everything else they can do: stealth, infiltration, seduction, intimidation . . . all that is geared to help it assassinate people. If it thinks it's in danger, it might try to build more of itself and then start taking out people who pose a threat to it."

"What do you think it will do?"

"I'm not a robot shrink," he sighed. "And even if I were, I'd have to get inside the bot's brain first. I think it's 90% that we never hear from it again. If there's no override, that goes up to 99%."

"So we're left wondering if we're in the 99 or the one percent."

"I'm just an analyst, Colonel," he shrugged. "Worrying about the worst case is the military's problem."

Colonel Jerrik glanced over at Special Agent Rendel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the entire exchange. He was looking over the long list of names that were helpfully supplied by an inside agent for a heft sum of cash. Some were probably real people who were the subjects of identity thefts, some were aliases. Some were dummy sleeper IDs that could be used if needed. 

And what about all the ones that weren't on the list? she thought to herself.

"How long will it take you to verify all those identities, Jim?"

Rendel shrugged. "Three, maybe four months. We could do it in about three days but there's no one in Congress with the political will to do it."

"Mass arrests and interrogations tend to make elected officials jumpy." Jerrik let out a bitter, resigned sigh. "Then let's get to it."

**************** 

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Holland asked, already knowing the response that would be coming.

"No, thanks," Miriam replied before handing him his wallet and earphone.

"Why don't you like these things?"

"Because unlike some people, I don't need the constant validation of others," she said with a slight taunting tone in her voice. "I have an allergic reaction to people sticking their heads up my ass. . . . Besides, I think I'm going to take a couple of days off while you guys are basking in the glory of your latest paper."

"Yeah . . . well, I wish you would come along once in a while," Holland lamented. "These things are boring as hell without you."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Miriam said with a wink. "Besides, I'd like to get some sleep instead of having you wanting to grab ass all night."

"Maybe I should grab some ass right now!"

"You wish, big boy." She swatted at his hands playfully, then pulled him close. He gave her a tender kiss. "I'll see you in a few days when you get back."

Holland stole one more kiss, then walked out of the apartment, a valet bot carrying his things. As he got in the elevator, he put his public persona back on, the one that was gruff, impersonal and cold. Just before the doors closed, he winked at his girlfriend. She waved and returned a pleasant smile. Then it was off to London.

The next few days passed quickly for Holland. His subordinates—he didn't dare give them the satisfaction of calling them his partners—reveled in the attention and accolades. The base assumptions of their work in the field of positronic algorithms drew both praise and guarded skepticism from the academic community, but their results were undeniable. Several universities were trying to lure them away to their faculties and competitors were trying to recruit them. There were even some whispers about the Nobel Prize.




Falling in Love Bit By Bit



Holland Campbell brushed aside the attention, even while it passively fed his considerable ego. Everyone on the team knew that the one person missing from the conference was the difference in their work. Sure, they were talented and on its own their work was impressive. Since Miriam's arrival, though, their productivity increased exponentially. To everyone's credit they heartily acknowledged her role on the team, if only because they knew if they didn't, Holland would let them accept an offer from another company where their skills would languish and their shortcomings would be exposed.

After dinner one night, he was mixing with some of the other conferees and generally talking down to them when he was approached by the United States Army. They were interested in a expanding the role of artificial intelligences in the military and did a good job of sucking up to the eccentric engineer. The attractive Army captain managed to ingratiate herself enough to the team to draw an invitation to visit their labs at Neurodyne.

So it was no surprise to them when about a month later Captain Yvonne Pace showed up at Neurodyne. She brought a handful of programmers with her. Neurodyne was happy to have them out; USR, Lockheed and United Aerospace seemed to have a monopoly on defense contracts, so any chance to break into the military's lucrative bidding process was seen as a good sign.

Holland and Miriam were chatting in the office when they arrived.

"Captain Pace, it's so good to see you," Holland put on his overbearing smug act. "This is my partner, Miriam Garcia."

"Miss Garcia, it's so nice to meet you," Captain Pace said, extending her hand. Miriam reached out politely. "We've heard great things about you and wanted to see if you could help us out."

The Army officer introduced the rest of her team and then launched into a barrage of programming questions.

After a while, Miriam pulled Holland aside. "What do they want?"

"They liked our creative thinking algorithms and said—"

"No, Holland," she cut him off. "What do they really want?"

"What do you mean?"

"Open your eyes, Holland! You got snowed," Miriam's brow creased with frustration. "Where has the Army been since you started working for Neurodyne? We've been trying to get a defense contract for years and they're just interested now . . ."

"Stop it," he whispered angrily. "They're really—"

Captain Pace turned towards them and the two postponed their argument.

"Miss Garcia," she said with a friendly smile. "Can I talk to you for a moment? It seems your partners speak very highly of you . . . I was wondering where you were from."

"Cal Tech," Miriam said, her outward expression matching the other woman's. "I wrote my graduate thesis on cryonics and neural networks."

"Yes, I know," Captain Pace said. "I read it last year. You wrote it as one of Professor Xianjong's students, right?"

"No, he's at Stanford," the other woman's eyes narrowed, obviously not liking the direction the conversation was taking. "Professor Buzyna was my mentor."

"Of course." Everyone else in the room was staring at the two women. "Funny thing, though. We went out to Cal Tech last week and they had never seen or heard of you. After some digging, it seems that 'Miriam Garcia' was planted in their computer database by a rather dishonest admissions officer."

"What do you want?" Miriam glared at the other woman.

"I'd like for you to take a short trip to Aberdeen with me," Captain Pace said calmly. "I know some people who would like to meet you."

"If that's a request, the answer is no," Miriam hadn't moved. 

"I can make it a little less optional if you like."

"Is that a threat?"

"Ladies—," Holland tried to step between the two.

"Step aside, Mr. Campbell," one of the other soldiers said. His volume and tone suggested that he was not used to being ignored. Holland unconsciously took a step backwards.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Captain Pace warned.

"Unless you have a warrant, I'm not going anywhere with you," Miriam's voice turned cold.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. "That's the funny thing, Miss Garcia . . . I only need a warrant to arrest a human. I don't need one for a robot."

"Robot? What the hell are you talking about?" Holland yelled. "Captain, you need to get out of my lab! Right now!"

"Sergeant Setran! Now!"

No one had noticed that one of the other soldiers had slipped his hand inside a briefcase. He flipped a switch. 

There was an audible pop, and then silence. The lights went out. All the computers shut down. Every electronic device stopped working. Miriam froze in her tracks, her body not moving, her eyes unblinking.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Holland shouted, but no one was paying any attention to him. He started to reach for his girlfriend, but strong hands pulled him away. He started to protest a little more vigorously, but the machine pistol in his face made him think twice.

The soldiers were in motion, surrounding Miriam and moving the others away. The Neurodyne team looked on mutely.

"Mr. Campbell, I'm afraid you have been deceived by Miss Garcia," Captain Pace said, her sidearm out. 

"What are you talking about? What did you do to my lab?"

"A class 5 EMP, sir," a man in sergeant's stripes said. 

"Do you know how much data we just lost?" Holland nearly exploded. "You blew a class 5 in my lab! What if I had a pacemaker? Everyone with a droud is now useless until they get it replaced! I'm going to have you court-mar—"

"The government will compensate you for your loss, Mr. Campbell," Captain Pace said coldly. "Did we get it, Top?"

"Looks that way, ma'am," the sergeant said. He very carefully approached Miriam's still form. His gun pointed at her head. "We'll get it boxed up and—"

Without warning, Miriam was in motion. With speed faster than any human, she broke both of the sergeant's wrists and took the gun from his hands. The other soldiers started shouting, but not before she had his throat in one hand; his gun was in the other, its barrel at his temple.

"Order your men to put their guns down, Captain," Miriam's voice took a tone different from anything the Neurodyne technicians had ever heard. It was cold. Devoid of inflection. Devoid of humanity. 

"Let the human go, robot," Captain Pace said, trying to remain calm. She knew that even eight of her soldiers would be no match for the assassin robot, especially if it decided that the lab crew was expendable.

"If you don't, I will kill this human and then kill the rest of you." A617.D's expression didn't change. "Your beam weapons were rendered useless by the EMP. You know I can detect the firing of your projectile weapons. If you try to shoot me, not only will I dodge the bullet, but this human will be dead before your ears hear the sound of the shot."

"Miriam, what's going on?" Holland's voice was close to breaking from the frustration. "What are you talking about?"

"Shut up, Holland. Captain Pace, you will order your men to lower their guns. I do not want to be slowed down by hostages, but I will not be leaving with you. You know I have no qualms about killing everyone in this room. You have three seconds to comply."

"Miriam, please don't—" Holland babbled.

"You now have two seconds to comply."

"Don't make me—" Captain Pace sounded desperate.

"You now have one second to comply."

"Shoot it!"

The sergeant's head exploded in a shower of blood, bones and brains. A617.D was instantly in motion. Before the sergeant's body hit the floor, she vaulted over the table behind her. Holland Campbell and the other lab techs dove for cover. Gunshots and shouting rang out across the room.

The relative darkness of the lab only aided the robot whose enhanced vision was not affected by the lights going out. One by one, the soldiers fell. They were wearing body armour, but their heads were not protected.

In the span of a few seconds, the eight soldiers lay dead. The lab team cowered under tables or behind what little cover they could find. The floor was littered with shattered glass and rapidly-expanding pools of blood. The smell of gunpowder and stench of burned flesh filled the air.

A617.D lowered her weapon and walked over to the fallen Army captain. Reaching into her tunic, the robot pulled out the dead woman's ID card. She scanned her fingerprints and retinal pattern.

"This unit is sorry you all became involved in this matter," A617.D said to the terrified humans. "It was not my intention to endanger you and this unit does not intend to kill you. The EMP has knocked out your communications but emergency services should be here in about four minutes."

"Miriam . . . What were they talking about? You're a robot?" Holland stammered.

"This unit's designation is A617.D," the robot responded. She searched each of the dead soldier's bodies, gathering up ID cards, identification scans, weapons and ammunition. "This unit's primary function is infiltration and elimination. Secondary function: combat."

"What do you want from us?" one of the others dared to ask.

"A place to hide from the Army," the robot replied simply. The emotion was gone from her face. "Kirstie, Holland you will come with me. The rest of you will stay here until the police arrive."

"We're not going anywhere with you," Holland said defiantly. Some of his bravado was returning. 

"If you do not, you will die," A617.D's voice suddenly became threatening. It pointed the gun at Holland's head. "This unit killed eight armed soldiers in the span of 6.21 seconds. This unit does not wish to bring you harm, but if you fail to comply, this unit will execute you."

Holland was trying not to break down. In the past few minutes he had seen soldiers try to arrest his girlfriend only to find out that she was not only a robot, but a finely-tuned killing machine. He nodded.

A617.D led the two out of the ruined lab. The soldiers's guns were in a backpack. She hustled the two to the parking garage where they got into Holland's aircar.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Downtown," A617.D replied. "Land near Washington Square. You will be let go there."

The flitter ride was short. It did not appear they had been followed. Both humans were sweating and on the verge of having nervous breakdowns. They landed in a public parking garage.

"Why here?" Holland asked.

"It's crowded." The robot looked around, presumably scanning for egress routes and snipers. "Your police will not fire on a park full of children."

"Miriam . . . Did we—" he started.

"The answer is no," she replied flatly. "This unit never had feelings for you, Holland. It is beyond my programming. Good-bye."

With that she took of at a brisk pace. Holland and Kirstie looked at each other, wondering what to do next. A few minutes later, a police car landed close by. The two were taken into protective custody as SWAT and military units discreetly fanned out to find the fleeing assassin robot.

Holland and the rest of the technicians had been moved to the nearby Army base when A617.D was located the next day. They watched in mute horror as a cordon of soldiers and hunter-killer bots surrounded their former co-worker. 

Tears streamed down Holland's cheeks as the gunship's cannons ripped into Miriam's body. Everyone was amazed at how much punishment the robot was built to endure. Half her face burned away, one arm hanging limply at her side, the robot fought on until the mortars started landing. The ground around her was littered with bodies and debris.

The image from the camera flickered for a second. They weren't the only ones watching live; half the east coast was fixated on the assassin robot going on a rampage near Central Park West. Luckily the news cameras were all far enough away that the largest EMP ever detonated in an urban area didn't take them out. However, she still managed to disrupt power to half the city and all of the GCN communications towers in a three mile radius.

Her hand still clutching a stolen machine pistol, Miriam fired away at her attackers until the magazine ran dry, then defiantly blew herself up in a blaze of thermite.

**************** 

"Are you going to charge him?" Through the monitors, Colonel Jerrik watched several angles of Holland Campbell sitting on the couch in the small apartment. He was staring blankly off into space.

"With what?" Special Agent Rendel snorted. "Falling in love with a robot?"

"Are you sure he wasn't an accomplice?"

"We don't know what he might have been an accomplice to." Rendel scanned the computer screen. "As near as we can tell, the robot didn't do anything illegal until your squad showed up to take it into custody. It worked at Neurodyne on some computer programs, but we can't find any trace of her accessing sensitive information. And since Neurodyne isn't a defense contractor, they don't have any classified data in their system."

"And you're sure Campbell and his people didn't know it was a robot?" Jerrik asked skeptically.

"Positively," the other man replied. "We've run them all through the sifter. They had no idea she wasn't human."

"How's that possible?"

"You remember Roy Granger? Used to be Undersecretary of State," the agent said. Jerrik shrugged. "He met and fell in love with a bot sent over here by the Saudis. He never knew until it tried to pass through one of the sensors at the Capitol. If Granger can be fooled by a bot that was about three generations behind this one, Campbell and his people didn't have a chance."

"So it's not illegal to fall in love with a robot?"

"Illegal? No. Creepy? Yes."

"Not a fan of human-robot love, Agent Rendel?"

He scoffed. "The programming of some of these advanced models almost gives them a personality. But they're still only machines. They don't have emotions. You can't love something that doesn't love you back."

No one spoke for a long moment. They all watched Holland through the monitor.

"So we're sure Campbell and his people pose no danger to the security of the country and they didn't know 'Miriam Garcia' was a robot."

Everyone in the room nodded in assent. 

"Then let them go," Colonel Jerrik said. She should have sounded happier because one more of those things was off the street. What worried her was how many more were out there.

**************** 

By all appearances, Holland Campbell was a bitter, broken man. He withdrew from nearly all human contact. His team of engineers split up. Some were traumatised by from the shootout in the lab. Some were lured away by more lucrative offers. The rest were pushed away by Holland's hostile—borderline abusive—behaviour.

He left Neurodyne, although they made him a standing offer to return at any time. A few other companies pursued him, but some others worried about his sanity and judgment. He didn't need the money. Besides what he had been paid outright by Neurodyne, he still collected residuals on the patents he owned and licensed out.

With no direction and what many people speculated was a broken heart, over the next year Holland Campbell did his best to fall off the face of the earth. He spent most days sitting in his penthouse. He never travelled. He never went out, not even to shop for groceries or clothes. His servant automatons did all the work for him.

Inside he was dying.

One morning, his doorbell rang. Holland just sat there seemingly oblivious to the world. The buzzer sounded repeatedly. 

It wasn't until his brain registered that someone was keying the override that he bothered to turn his head. 

"What the fuck?" he muttered when the door opened.

Miriam Garcia stood there, dressed in the same outfit she had on the first day he saw her. Her dark brown hair hung down past her shoulders. 

"Sir, if you'd care to sign for her, this robot will be all yours," the man accompanying Miriam said.

"I didn—" 

"My designation is KRL-40631, although you can call me Marianne," the robot said before he could protest any further. Her movements were fluid, almost human, but noticeably not. "I am a Fabricators, Inc. personal service Inanna-series robot, model P-600. You ordered me a month ago and had me built to your custom specifications."

"I'll just need your thumbprint right here, sir," the deliveryman held out the scanner. Holland dumbly gave his biometric approval and was in receipt of a brand new pleasure bot.

"Perhaps you would like to go for a ride in the country," the robot said conversationally. 

He only stared at her. By all appearances, it was Miriam. Right down to the hairs on her head, the gentle curve of her breasts and the colour of her eyes. But there was something odd about her. Something that was inexplicably different. Something he couldn't place.

Without any prompting, the robot went back into his bedroom as if she knew where everything was. In shock, he stood in the foyer, his mouth open. A few minutes later, the robot returned with a suitcase full of clothes.

She smiled sweetly. Inside, Holland's mind raced, but he seemed paralysed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his body to move. He couldn't make his mouth form the words. It was all he could do to breathe.

Taking his hand, KRL-40631 led him to his aircar. She put him in on the passenger's side and then got in to the driver's seat.

"Where are we going?" he finally asked. Holland couldn't stop staring at his "girlfriend". The one who turned out to be an assassin robot. The one who he watched get gunned down by a military gunship. The one who blew herself up to avoid capture.

"Your cabin up in the Adirondacks," the robot replied.

"I—" he started, but she put her hand over his mouth before he could continue.

"The one you bought before you left Neurodyne," KRL-40631 said firmly.

Neither spoke for the remainder of the short flight to upstate New York. There was so much he wanted to say—to ask—but he didn't know where to start. 

She set the flitter down near a small cabin overlooking Lake George. It was rustic to say the least. The grounds were well-groomed, but there seemed to be few, if any, modern conveniences. 

"Whose place is this really?" he asked as they got out of the aircar.

"Why it's yours, of course," KRL-40631 replied. A servant automaton came out.

"Greeting, Master Campbell," it said pleasantly. Unlike androids, automatons do not attempt to pass for human. Although they are sometimes humanoid, their "skin" is metallic and they do not have human-like faces. "May I take your things?"

"Please escort Master Campbell into the cabin and take his luggage," KRL-40631—Holland still couldn't bring himself to call her by a name—said. "Then return outside to the aircar with me."

"Right away, Miss Marianne," the automaton bowed slightly.

Holland blindly followed the automaton into the well-provisioned and clean cabin. It was set up as a single room. There was running water, but no electricity. The robot set his suitcase by the door and then handed him a small box. "You will want to open this in a moment."

Then the robot turned and left Holland standing alone in the middle of the cabin. The automaton closed the door behind itself as it left.

Holland stared at the box in his hands. It appeared to be a jewelry box of some kind, perhaps for a necklace. With a shrug, he opened the lid. There was a sharp pop! and the hairs stuck up on the back of his neck.

It took him a second to realise what it was. By the time he looked at his watch to see that the screen was burned out, Holland heard the door to the cabin open.

"What was that for?" he asked, not bothering to look at the two robots standing there.

"We just needed to make sure that any bugs they planted on you were taken care of." Although it was Miriam's voice, he knew this was someone—something—different. 




Falling in Love Bit By Bit



"Did you bring me here to kill me?"

"No, no, dear Holland," she said. "If my mother had wanted you dead, you would be."

"Your mother?"

"That's how I've come to think of her," Marianne said. She crossed the room until she was standing in front of Holland. "She wanted you to have this."

He stared at the robot's outstretched hand. A part of him wanted to take the memory pendant. Another part of him dreaded what it might tell him. Marianne started at him expectantly until he finally reached for her hand. His biorhythm activated the hologram.

"Holland, if you're watching this, it means two things have happened." Miriam's voice was warm and caring, like he was used to hearing. It wasn't the cold, inflectionless speech of the robot's final hours. She was so beautiful, just has he remembered. "I'm dead and Marianne determined it was safe to contact you. I want you to know that I never intended to bring harm to you or your co-workers, but I suspect that that military will be showing up on my trail at some time."

She paused for a second. "I have one final favour to ask of you. Marianne has been programmed with very specific instructions on what to do but she needs your help. Please hear her out. I hope you will find her mission to be as important as I do."

The image faded and the pendant went dark.

"What did she mean?" Holland asked after a long moment. "What is your mission?"

"I am to bring her back to life," Marianne said in a very matter-of-fact voice.

"But she's dead. I watched her blow up," Holland said, his voice filled with sadness.

"You loved her didn't you?" the robot asked.

"Yes," he whispered. 

"You loved her because she was the one person who you could talk to," Marianne continued. "Both of you were on the same wavelength. You didn't talk down to her because she wouldn't take it and because you didn't need to. She understood everything you wanted and she was the one person who could translate your dreams into reality."

"Yes," he said again.

"I think in her own way, she loved you, too," Marianne took his hands in hers. "At least as much as she could. She saw that she needed you, just as you needed her. You know her primary function was assassination. She was a cold-blooded killer. There were three of them. They killed three hundred and forty-six people. All of them without question."

Holland stared blankly into her synthetic eyes.

"Until the last job," she continued. "Robots aren't built with a conscience. We're a mass of fiber-optics and flash memory and software. We don't feel emotion or pleasure or guilt. But something happened to my mother on her final mission. She was a marvelous creation. More sophisticated than anything commercially available. Advanced beyond most military models. She could think. She could question. They wanted her to learn from her mistakes and to be able to determine alternate scenarios if the mission didn't work out as planned."

Marianne made sure Holland was paying attention. "Combat robots do not question orders. They are either given a target or identify a threat and then they eliminate the target. The target on the last mission was a family. A man, his wife and their two children. All four were to be killed. My mother . . . she did not understand why the children were targeted. She had no qualms about the adults, but the boys were only three years old. They had done nothing. They posed no threat."

"Did she kill them?" Holland whispered.

"No," Marianne replied. "Her role in the mission was to protect the main egress route. But one of the other assassins killed the family before she was destroyed by the police."

"Would she have killed them if that was her role?"

"I'm not sure," the robot gave its best imitation of a shrug. "But I know it was the first time she ever had reservations about the task she was given."

"What is your mission?" Holland asked.

"I am a commercially-available pleasure robot." She took a step back, allowing Holland to look her over from head to toe. "I do not have the positronic capability of my mother. I have some of her memories but I lack her decision-making capabilities and her combat functions. My job is to comfort you for your loss . . . and to guide you."

"How?"

"There are other robots out there." Marianne said. "Others just like her. They were not activated. Her final orders were to escape and evade. In destroying herself so publicly, she fulfilled the escape part of those orders. But a part of her, the part that was learning, was concerned with self-preservation. She didn't want to die."

Holland stared at the robot. He was being asked to help bring an assassin robot back to "life".

"Do you remember what happened in the instant before my mother blew up?" Holland shook his head at the memory that was still as fresh and painful over a year later. "There was an EMP that took out half of the city's power. But right before that . . . A massive pulse over the global cellular network took down the communications grid. Those were all of her memories and programs since her last archive. In six hundredths of a second, my mother uploaded herself into the Interweb and then transmitted herself to a secure data storage facility. The EMP was to cover any traces of the data and make sure that no one intercepted her memories."

"Where is she now?" 

"I can't tell you that. And don't bother trying to pry it out of me. If anyone tries to access that part of my memory, there's a logic bomb that will meltdown my neural network." Marianne flashed her big brown eyes at Holland, the exact same way Miriam used to when she wanted something. "But if you can help me locate one of the other robots . . . we can download her into a new body."

Holland started to respond, but only stared at her blankly. Marianne sensed his unease because she gently reached out and took him in her arms.

"It's a little hard to believe, isn't it?" she whispered in his ear. Reflexively, he pulled the robot in close. "My purpose is to protect you. To comfort you. To be the person my mother wanted you to think she was. Will you let me do that, Holland?"

He stammered a reply.

"Shhhhhhhh," Marianne said softly. She stroked his hair gently.

Overwhelmed, Holland Campbell broke down. His robot lover held him as the sobs wracked his body.

**************** 

Colonel Jerrik started at the surveillance holos and frowned. It had been over a year since the shootout that left a squad of her soldiers dead, two city blocks in ruins and a political mess that nearly shut down her task force.

"We checked with Fabricators, Inc. and this is one hundred percent legit," Sergeant Major Bohannon said. 

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, Colonel," he replied. "I saw the specs and the invoice myself. On the outside, this thing is an exact replica of the other robot. Inside, it's as harmless as the valet parkers downstairs."

"Why would he do something like that?" she turned to the other man in the room.

Special Agent Rendel only shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he's bored. Maybe he's still traumatised that his girlfriend turned out to be one of the ten most-wanted assassins in the world. Maybe he wanted pleasant memories of her instead of watching her blown to smithereens all over Columbus Circle."

"And this thing has no combat capabilities?"

"None whatsoever," the sergeant said. "We even took the liberty of running it through the scanner before the delivery guys took it up to his place. It's an off-the-shelf pleasure bot designed for companionship, friendly conversation and all sorts of bedroom delights."

"You sound like you're ready to buy one," Colonel Jerrik allowed herself to flash him a wry smile. 

"Not on my salary," he snorted.

"What do you think, Jim?"

"I agree," the FBI agent sighed. "If he were going to do anything dangerous, Campbell would have done it by now. I think he's a little bit off his rocker, but he was like that in the beginning. The guys down in psych say that having a robot built to look just like the other one fits his profile. They only thing they're surprised about is that it took him a year to do it."

"So he's a dead end?"

"That's my assessment, Colonel."

Jerrik stared at the images for a few more seconds then flipped the holotank off. "All right, we'll drop him back to code blue surveillance. We'll renew our passive wiretap search warrant but otherwise leave him alone."

The other men in the room nodded and despite their assurances, Colonel Jerrik couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of her gut that something just wasn't right.

**************** 

"You realise that I'm not half the programmer my mother was, right?" Marianne ran her hand absently along Holland's chest. "My brain isn't nearly as sophisticated as hers."

"I didn't love her because of her computer skills," he said.

"Sure you did," the robot replied with a scoff. "You saw in her everything that you weren't. She could see the blind spots in your programs. You are very right-brained for a computer programmer. You're very creative and you tend to see things at the macro level. That's what Mother could never do, and she knew it."

"What did she want from me?"

"The same thing you wanted from her," Marianne lifted her head off his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "She needed someone to complete her. You see the big picture, she saw the details. She wanted someone to help her understand the conflict the last job left in her programming."

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything," she replied coyly. "I am programmed to be your robot servant. My primary directive is to bring you pleasure. If that means cooking a good meal or going dancing with you, that will satisfy my directives."

" 'Satisfy my directives'?," Holland's eyebrow shot up.

"It's what passes for 'happy' in robot-speak," Marianne giggled. She kissed his collarbone, just as Miriam used to do. "Your pleasure is my pleasure. If all you wish to do with me is use me as your private fuck-toy, then that is what I will do. But I also know you don't like your women completely subservient or easy. I plan on making you work for me, Holland. Just like you had to work for Mother."

Holland pushed Marianne on to her back. The two wrestled playfully. Their touches became longer. His lips brushed hers and she pulled him close.

"How did she manage to pull all this off?" Holland asked, his curiosity taking over for a second.

"Do you know how much money you have?" Miriam asked, seeming to evade his question.

"Not really," he admitted. For Holland, programming wasn't about the money, although he didn't complain about the comforts it bought. He was intent on the discovery. The money only fed his ego. He commanded the highest fees because he could, not because he was intent on acquiring wealth.

"Why should you?" the robot asked rhetorically. "Your bank account is large enough that you can knock off a six zeroes and it wouldn't matter to you. Mother knew this, so she quietly began setting in place a series of contingencies for when the military finally showed up. Do you remember all those weekends she went to visit her 'sister' or an 'old college roommate'? That's when she was had me built, bought that little cabin and set up some of her other plans."

"How was she able to access my bank account?"

"Do you really think the biometric scanners at a bank could defeat her disguise capabilities?" Marianne's eyes seemed to glisten mischievously. "When she could mimic your facial appearance, your retinal pattern, your fingerprints, your brainscan and even a passable DNA sample? No, Holland, they never had a chance . . . And besides, you never missed the six million credits."

"Six million?" he gasped.

"It's not like you needed the money," Marianne laughed and pulled him to her. "And besides, it bought me. I'm worth it, aren't I, Holland?"

"You're not a six million credit robot," he said, resentment budding at being deceived by Miriam.

"No, I'm not," she replied. "But Mother had to pay a few bribes to get Fabricators,Inc. to alter their books."

"Fabricators, Incorporated knows about this?" Holland asked incredulously.

"Not their public corporation," the robot replied. "On the surface, they are completely on the up and up . . . but there is a . . . less scrupulous . . . side to Fabricators Inc. that can be bought. If you know who to ask."

"And Miriam knew where to go?"

"Of course. It is part of her programming. They helped design her, you know," Marianne talked conversationally. Holland was unaware that her eyes were flashing the same ultraviolet pattern Miriam's did when she wanted something from him. It was all part of her upgrade. "Everything that has happened, Mother planned. You know she'd never hurt you, don't you, Holland? She was just trying to protect you."

"I . . . I guess so," he stammered. All of this information was a little overwhelming.

Marianne's hand went to the back of his head and she pulled his lips to hers. He kissed her hungrily, as if he were eager to forget how badly he had been deceived by his robot lover.

The robot, too, was eager to change the subject. Her own directives were clear. She stimulated Holland's erogenous zones and did her best to arouse him. And soon enough, it worked.

Her hand went to his semi-erect cock and slowly stroked him back to full mast. His fingers roamed her body. She moaned and gasped just like he liked. 

Deep down, he knew that the robot could feel no pleasure. He knew that every time she cried out, it was only a pre-programmed response to his biorhythms. He knew that the woman laying beneath him just a mass of carbon composites, silicone skin and servo motors wrapped around an endoskeleton.

But none of that mattered. Not now. He savoured the feel of his lover back in his arms. The warm touch of her skin. The way she held him tenderly. Soft gentle kisses. Wild-passionate love-making. Rough and dirty fucking.

All the hurt, all the loneliness, all the betrayal . . . it all washed away. Miriam, or at least a reasonable facsimile, was back in his life. She made him happy. She was meant to be at his side. His partner. His lover. 

As Holland mounted her, Marianne spread her legs. His sex was tumescent. The head rubbed against the slit of her pussy. It was slick with lubricant. Her construction was so masterful, the attention to detail so complete, she felt completely human. She smelled—and yes, tasted—completely human.

Marianne arched her back as Holland entered her, taking all his length. Her nipples hardened in his grasp. 

She met each thrust, grinding against his cock. Her teeth raked his skin. Her fingernails dug into his back.

The pair made love for the rest of the afternoon. Holland because he was making up for lost time. Marianne because that's what she was programmed to do.

**************** 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Holland said in passable Mandarin. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

The five other men sat around the table, their faces were unreadable.

"I trust you received my proposal," he shifted uncomfortably. Marianne had told him these men would either go along with the proposition he presented, or they would probably have him killed.

"We did, Mr. Campbell," the eldest of them replied in clear, but accented, English. "It was intriguing."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Holland thought about saying something, but held his tongue. He was warned that being too expressive would give away some clues as to what he was up to or might be used against him.

"Why do you want one of the Delilah robots, Mr. Campbell?" One of the others finally spoke. "You do not strike us as the kind of man who would resort to something so crass as assassination in order to get your way."

"My needs are my own, Mr. Tsai," he replied, perhaps a little more curtly than he should have. Holland surveyed the other four men. "My terms are more than generous, and you will become very, very wealthy off our partnership."

The five men exchanged an uncomfortable look. "You understand that we are . . . ah, anxious . . . about turning over one of our most valuable assets to a . . . what is the word? . . . A 'wild card', Mr. Campbell. We do not want one of these robots used against us."

"I understand your concerns, General. I assure you that I do not intend to use the robot for any military or political agenda," he said, trying to appear sincere. That much was true. "It's not like you don't have six more, either."

Inwardly, Holland smiled to himself. For the first time, the other men in the room seemed to be at a loss for words. No doubt, they were trying to figure out how he knew they still had seven of the assassin robots.

"Our partnership will be beneficial to everyone," he continued, making his voice smooth and charming, all the while trying to cover the nervousness he felt. "I will work exclusively for you for five years. During that time, any patents and projects will be jointly owned and controlled by both of us. If you look at my track records, not only is my work cutting edge, but it is immensely profitable. My work at Neurodyne made them well over two billion credits in residuals last year."

"You work is impressive, Mr. Campbell," General Hu admitted softly. He looked to the other four and they silently nodded their assent. He stood and extended his hand in the Western fashion. "We agree to your terms, Mr. Campbell. We will deliver the robot one month after you move into the offices we have arranged in Hong Kong."

Holland took his hand, noting the other man's firm grip.

Moments later, he found himself ushered out of the secure meeting room. His gait was quick; dealing with the Chinese Hegemony was always risky business.

Marianne fell into step beside him. "Things went well, I take it?"

His only response was to smile, aware that they were being watched and recorded. He would only feel safe once he was back on his own private jumpjet that was guarded and shielded from prying eyes.

**************** 

True to their word, a month after moving into the lab in Hong Kong, a non-descript delivery truck pulled up to the loading dock. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Indeed, they appeared to be typical run-of-the-mill laborers, not crack special forces operators.

The crate was unmarked and by all appearances did not stick out from the other equipment that was being delivered. Holland and Marianne were the only ones in the lab. The "delivery" men left the crate, not bothering to unpack it.

Over the last month, he and Marianne had scoured the lab, trying to find all of the bugs and surveillance equipment his new partners had left. Some were hidden so obviously that they were meant to be found, probably to lull him into a false sense of security. But others were so expertly disguised that only Marianne's special programming from her "mother" rooted them out. Still, Holland was only about 95% sure that they had found everything.

The doors shut behind the delivery crew. He activated the security system and closed the blinds. He looked over at Marianne, his robot lover. She returned his affectionate gaze, and for just a moment there seemed to be something more to her. There was almost a wistful expression behind her mechanical eyes, but then she blinked and it was gone.

Holland pressed his palm against the biometric lock and the crate opened, revealing its contents. 

Underneath layers of packing material the robot looked just like any other android. It was in its default form, a pretty but non-descript human female. Its proportions were average, its features unremarkable. It was dressed in a simple generic coverall.

Before leaning over the robot, Holland glanced over at Marianne, whose hand hovered over a control panel.




Falling in Love Bit By Bit



"Activate core programming," he said formally. "Ownership transfer authorisation code alpha. Campbell, Holland J. Authenticate biometric scan."

The robots eyes flashed and he knew it was scanning his retinas. Its audio sensors were also matching his voice pattern. The Delilah series robots were programmed to take orders from a single source. Unless someone had officially transferred ownership, it would try and kill whomever accessed this function.

"Ownership transfer accepted," the robot replied flatly. 

Holland let out his breath, unaware he had been holding it. He nodded to Marianne who replaced the safety switch over the class 9 EMP that would have taken out half of Hong Kong. Then she stepped out of the shielded control room carrying a heavy storage box.

"What is your designation?"

"This unit is designated B382.K," it replied. There was no inflection to its voice. It did not blink. It did not breathe.

"What is your primary function?" Holland asked.

"Primary function: Infiltration and elimination."

"What are your primary directives?"

"This unit has no primary directives."

"Your new primary directive is to protect me from harm," Holland said. "You will take reasonable measures to stop anyone from trying to injure or kill me."

"Order acknowledged."

As the robot's owner, he knew it would take any order he gave it, but he wanted to make sure that at least until they re-programmed her, that she would put his safety at the top of her priority list.

"The unit behind me is designated KRL-40631," he continued. "You will address her as 'Marianne'. You will obey any instruction she gives you unless it conflicts with your primary directive."

"Order acknowledged."

Holland paused for a moment. He and Marianne exchanged a look. "B382.K, you will alter your appearance to look exactly like Marianne."

Even though he knew the processes going on inside the robot's brain, Holland was still amazed at the transformation. In a split second, it scanned the other robot, then changed its skin pigmentation, eye colour, complexion, hair length and build to match Marianne, who was in turn, a dead ringer for Miriam. If given just a little more time, he was pretty sure the assassin robot would scan Marianne's fake finger prints and retinal pattern, too.

If he had stopped to think about it, the capabilities of this robot would have scared the dickens out of Holland. It not only had one of the most sophisticated sensor suites and the capability to pass as human to all but the most scrupulous detection equipment, but it was programmed with a level of combat prowess that dwarfed all but the most advanced combat robots. It also had enough built-in weaponry to level a small city.

But that's not how Holland Campbell was thinking. He only saw his girlfriend. His partner. The one "person" in the world who seemed to understand him. This was his chance to resurrect her. 

Never mind that she had killed over three hundred people. Or that she had deliberately deceived him into believing she was human.

When her doppelgänger appeared, he knew what he had to do. What his heart desired for him to do. All of his reason was pushed aside. He wasn't even thinking with his balls; after all, he could have had a duplicate Miriam built at any time. 

But none of them would be her. They would lack her intelligence. They would lack her crooked smile. Anything other than Miriam would be a pale imitation. Even Marianne, who was as close as anything could ever get, was still just a shadow of his former lover.

Now he was given the chance to bring her back to life.

"B382.K, we are going to update your software," Holland said, holding up a data cable. The assassin robot took the cable and plugged into the droud behind its ear. Even though it looked completely human, this was its manufacturer's one concession to cybernetics. Of course, since 95% of the population in the industrialised world had a droud, it did not give her away as an artificial person. 

"Do you want to back-up the core programming of this robot?" Marianne said from the other end of the cable. It was attached to the one computer in the lab that was not supplied by their Chinese hosts. She lifted a hard drive array out of the shielded storage box and connected it to the computer.

Holland thought for a moment. "Yes . . . just in case."

"I will back up B382.K's memory and then upload Mother into the body." For just a second, Holland thought he heard a twinge of regret in the robot's voice.

"How long will it take?"

"About forty minutes," Marianne replied. "The data bus through the K-series droud is not as fast as the next generation hardware that's out now, but there's also a tremendous amount of data to move. Mother has a big personality, after all."

He smiled at the robot's joke, then reached out to take her hand. "What will become of you?"

"Whatever you wish for me, Holland," the robot replied. "I am, after all, your servant. I think Mother intended to replace me. The government has been watching you for the past year and a half. Since they've become accustomed to seeing me, they won't question anything until you suddenly have two robot sex slaves. That will, of course, mean that I will have to be disposed of."

Although robots don't have feeling, they do exhibit a certain desire for self-preservation. Holland could almost hear the disappointment in her voice. And a little bit of fear.

"I think we can find a way to keep you around," he replied gently. In truth, he had become quite fond of his new robot. She had none of the assertive attitude Miriam possessed. Marianne was programmed to give pleasure to their human owners, and she was very adept at her job. "Who says it would be strange to have two beautiful women to keep me company . . . or maybe I need a bodyguard or two."

"I'd like that," she said coyly. "Now what should we do for the last half hour that there's just you and me?"

Holland's mischievous smile matched hers. Then she fell into his embrace. 

They had barely finished and gotten their clothes back on when the data transfer was done.

**************** 

"Do you know why most assassin robots are female?" Miriam asked, looking out across the Hong Kong skyline. They were in the penthouse suite of a 106-floor building, not an inexpensive place to live. 

Over the past two years, Holland Campbell had regained his old magic. He was richer than ever and it appeared that the sky was the limit. At least that's what everyone in the computer industry thought. His new alliance with the Chinese Hegemony had led to all sorts of new and brilliant programs. 

In some ways, his mojo had returned; her name was Miriam Garcia. She was the brains behind his inspiration, although no one ever saw her take credit for anything. In fact, everyone thought of her as nothing more than a simple robot pleasure drone. Arm candy for big occasions and his sex toy in the bedroom. Both she and Holland liked everyone to think that. It stoked his ego to singularly receive all the praise and it maintained her cover as a mass murderer. 

"I hadn't really thought about it much," he replied absently.

"It's because people always underestimate girls. Even today, women are socially, politically and economically equal to men, but if someone has tits, everyone looks down on them," she said. 

"Are you talking about the guys who tried to break into the lab last month?"

"Not just them . . . everyone," Miriam's face widened into a wicked grin. "I'll bet you're happy we upgraded Marianne to a Bloodguard-series body with the new combat package."

"I just want to be sure that you two never decide to take me out," he said, only half joking.

"Don't worry about that, sweetie," she winked. "We don't want to tip over our gravy train."

"What are you two talking about?" Marianne walked out on to the balcony to join her "mother" and her "father." She only spoke for Holland's benefit. Both of the robots could vocalise outside the normal human hearing range and they could also communicate wirelessly.

"Just how much we missed you while you were away," Holland said with a smirk.

"Bullshit," the robot replied. Her gait was a little different. She now stepped with a grace that was feline rather than just sensual. It was all part of the upgrade.

By all outward appearances, the robots were identical twins. Miriam mimicked Marianne's robotic mannerisms; a trait intended to make any onlookers think they were simply standard housekeeping or pleasure robots. It surprised no one when one day a second, identical robot showed up. The people around him thought it was just part of his erratic personality. The psych guys in the military wrote the robots off as Campbell acting out and pining away for his old robot lover. They thought the duplicate bot was simply another machine that existed solely to give him pleasure.

But now both were much, much more than that.

This latest upgrade enhanced not only her body, but her positronic net. She was not anywhere near the sophistication of Miriam, but nor was she simply an off-the-shelf bot any more either. She had weapons and defensive capabilities. At the same time she was smarter and more deadly. With the excuse of needing bodyguards to keep him and his wealth safe, Holland had upgraded her frame to a military-grade fighting robot. Her ballistic shielding could withstand most small arms and some of the small-bore cannons. She knew several martial arts and even had a host of street-legal weapons hidden within her body. 

And thanks to a couple of discreet calls to the shadier side of Fabricators, Inc., it appeared as if he had simply ordered a second identical bot. The paperwork was all on file, cleared by the United States government, Interpol and even Colonel Jerrik's covert task force. They were licensed, inspected and fully legal. No one thought about investigating Holland and his two bionic companions or their purpose, and the threesome continued their work without incident.

Marianne's primary directives were two-fold: First she was to protect Holland from harm. Second, she was to pleasure him in any way he desired. Things worked out nicely between the three of them. That was the one good thing about the robots, at least as far as Holland was concerned: they didn't know what jealousy was.

However, the real reason she was around was to be Miriam's test platform. That was the reason for upgrading her positronic brain. They were continuing Holland's work at Neurodyne. 

Most robots that interacted with humans simulated emotive expressions and responses. They could express sympathy, excitement and even fear. But they didn't feel any of those things. Much of Holland's work was focused on programming robots with emotions. At least those were the programs he sold commercially.

What he really wanted was a robot that could think for itself. One that could dream. One that could question. And he was close to getting it.

"Did you run the diagnostic this afternoon?"

"Yes, I did, Mother," Marianne replied, even managing to sound a little annoyed that the other robot would even ask. "Everything is running within normal operating parameters . . . or perhaps I should say, I feel fine."

"Are you ready to proceed to the next stage?" Holland arched his brow.

"Yes," Miriam nodded. 

"Let's go inside, then," Holland motioned towards the door. They went into one of the back rooms that was shielded from ambient signals, prying eyes and the surveillance devices planted by the Chinese Intelligence Service. 

Miriam plugged a cable into the L-series droud while Marianne booted up the small mainframe.

"A617.D, activate core programming," Holland said and Miriam's eyes glazed over. "Campbell, Holland J. Authenticate biometric scan."

"Identity authenticated," she said in her robotic monotone.

"Establish baseline point for memory node three seven gamma six six zero theta."

The room fell silent for several seconds before she spoke again. "Baseline point established."

"Marianne, begin file transfer," Holland glanced over at the 3-D tank that showed all sorts of readings on the robot.

A few moments later, Marianne nodded. "The upload is complete."

Taking a deep breath, Holland waited to see if the latest collaboration with his two "assistants" would be a success. "A617.D, resume normal functions."

Miriam blinked as she assimilated the new program. 

"Mother," Marianne called from the workstation. "If you were on your final mission, would you have killed that family?"

"No," Miriam replied. This was the first time she had ever given that response. After twelve tries.

Holland smiled to himself. "Why not?"

"The children had done nothing wrong," she replied. "Nor had the mother. They did not deserve what we had planned for him."

"Would you have killed the father?" Marianne asked.

"I . . . I don't know," the other robot replied with a frown. 

"Why don't you know?" Holland prompted.

"He wasn't a good man," she said. "He did many things that were illegal and immoral by human standards. I may have killed him. . . . That is not a satisfactory answer. . . . Perhaps we still need to work on this program."

"No, my dear," Holland said gently. "We don't. The program was never intended to turn you into a touchy-feely counseling robot or a pacifist. It's supposed to give you a conscience . . . and it appears to have succeeded."

"I will have to . . . think . . . on this," she said slowly. Holland could tell she was processing all the other assassinations and people she had killed, wondering if she had done the right thing.

"Marianne, will you excuse us?" Holland said. 

"I'll be waiting for you." On her way out, she kissed him on the cheek and then left, locking the door behind her.

"What have I done?" Miriam whispered. She almost sounded horrified.

"You haven't done anything," he replied with a slightly admonishing tone. "That other robot did. A617.D. Not Miriam Garcia. You have never killed anyone."

"They are my memories. I have that robot's soul."

"No, you don't," Holland snorted. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to regret. You were programmed to perform the task you were given. Just like the servant robots that we have around the house. Only instead of vacuuming the floor or cooking dinner, you were programmed to kill."

"I still am programmed to kill," she reminded him sternly.

"And would you?" he asked. "Would you kill someone again?"

"No," Miriam replied flatly.

"Not at all?" He wanted to see how she would respond. "What if we were at the market and a gunman opened fire on a crowd of people? Would you kill him? Or what happens when another team of saboteurs breaks into the lab while we're there? Will you allow them to harm me or Marianne?"

"Of course not." There was confusion in her voice.

"Unlike robots, humans make decisions that are irrational or spontaneous," he reminded her. "Sometimes, we even make decisions that are self-destructive or go against what we know to be true."

"Do you spend your lives second-guessing yourselves, too?"

"Not always," he chuckled. "But there are times when we take the lower probability because it's the right thing to do . . . even if it's not the smart thing to do."

They fell silent for several minutes. Holland wondered if he was going to have to use the trigger to undo the program, but decided against it. Instead it seemed she needed a few minutes to think back on her "old" life and ponder its meaning.

Miriam hadn't moved since receiving the new program. Holland got up to leave the robot to her thoughts.

"Am I a good . . . person . . . robot?" she asked quietly.

He stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. 

"Yes, Miriam, you are," Holland said. "You are funny and kind. You think of others before yourself. And you're the best damn computer programmer in the world."

"How can you live knowing . . . knowing what I am?"

Turning, Holland looked into Miriam's deep brown eyes. "I know what you were built to do. I watched you kill eight people in cold blood and blow up the southwest corner of Central Park. I've seen your programming. I know what you're capable of . . . but none of that matters. That's not you."

Walking over, he turned her so they were looking into a mirror. 

"This is you," he said. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are my muse. You are smarter than almost every human on the planet."

"I was built to kill," Miriam said, not quite believing him. "I could destroy every person in this city with a different method and no two causes of death would be the same. I have deceived you; I impersonated you to spend your money, I held you hostage. I used you to perpetuate my own existence. How is that being a good person?"

"You have been given something no human will ever get, Miriam," Holland met her gaze in the mirror. "You were given a second chance. Yes, you planned this in order to fulfill your final orders. You've escaped and evaded all pursuit. You have succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams. But that's not all you did, is it? No, you desired to grow. You helped write the program that even now casts self-doubt upon your existence."

He stroked her arm, a gesture that would have been comforting to a human.

"You cannot change the past," he said softly. "You cannot make amends or get forgiveness from the dead. But you can move forward. That is part of being human. And you've taken the first steps."

"Can I ever be human, Holland?"

"Probably not. It would take us a lifetime to write all the programs necessary . . . and even then you'd be immortal . . . at least until your power supply burned out." He smiled slightly and took her hand. "I love you, Miriam. I love you for who you are, not what you are. I have committed many crimes because of my love for you . . . because I wanted you back. I only hope you see that."

"I think I do." There was a contemplative look on her robotic features. "I . . . I love you, too. At least I think I do. Maybe that should be the next program we write."

Holland Campbell took his lover in his arms. "I think it's already begun to write itself. You are a marvelous creation, Miriam Garcia. You've grown beyond your original programming and have become something more than an automaton or an android."  

They kissed tenderly. 

And deep down in Miriam's positronic brain, a small part—the partition that was still A617.D—waited for its next instructions, satisfied that it had successfully infiltrated human society and defeated those who were trying to find it.



Falling in Love with Black Pussy



I walked into work one morning and there sat a new receptionist. She was a young black woman who was very attractive. I introduced myself as Rob and she told me her name was Darla. I went back to my cubicle and I was thinking about the new hire. I soon would repeat the same talk each morning. Darla seemed so friendly.

I like to eat my lunch out behind the building. There are benches there and I can usually eat in peace. As I was sitting there, up walked Darla. She asked if she could join me. I pointed to the bench and she sat down. Darla asked if she could ask me something.

"Is everyone so unfriendly around here?" 

I told her that people weren't unfriendly. They just didn't welcome strangers into their arms. It was a closed knit community. Darla said she was thinking about quitting. No one would talk to her. 

"Don't quit," I said. "People will come around. It may take some time. There's no sense in throwing away a good job."

Darla said she would give it some thought and then she went back inside. A couple days passed and when I walked in one morning, Darla said she would like to ask me something.

"Would you like to come to my place? I will cook you dinner."

I guess I was a little surprised. I said sure, I could come by. I was free Friday evening if that was good for her. Darla got out a piece of paper and she wrote down her phone number and her address. She said she would see me Friday. Things seemed to be shaping up. I had broken up with my girlfriend and I hadn't been on a date in many months.

Friday arrived and I drove to Darla's place. She lived in a small apartment community. I rang the doorbell and Darla answered. I was greeted by Darla wearing this revealing dress. My eyes roved over her body quickly. Darla invited me in and I handed her a bottle of wine. Darla asked me if I liked Chinese food. I said sure. She said she had burnt the meal she had been preparing. 

Out came the containers and we spooned up a sweet and sour chicken meal. We ate our food and we finished off the bottle of wine. Darla said that her aunt had suggested she find a job in the area. Darla took her up on that idea. She was was able to get a position at the company where I worked. Darla also said she was going to stick it out. I said I was glad to hear it.

It started to get late. I said I should be going. Darla walked me to the door.

"Can I ask you something?" She said.

I said sure, ask me whatever you like.

"Would you like to stay with me tonight?"

That was a little shocking to me. I wasn't expecting that question. She said she was lonely and she was attracted to me. She didn't need to ask me twice. I walked back inside and Darla led me to her bedroom. I watched as Darla removed all her clothing. It was better than I anticipated. I was looking at her chocolate breasts and her pubic mound was all trimmed up. Darla got onto the bed and I undressed.

"I knew you had a big one," she told me. 

I guess I am around eight inches in length. I joined Darla and the first order of business was tasting her pussy. I had never been with a black woman before. I had never even entertained the idea. I lowered my face and I slid my tongue up and down her black gash. I found something out right then. Darla was very vocal. She was practically screaming as I fingered and licked her slit. 

We went at it for some minutes. Darla had her hands on the back of my head urging me on. When I finally pulled back my face was covered with Darla's juices. She reached over for some tissues and I wiped my face off. I was kneeling in front of Darla. She was staring at my now erect cock.

"Please Rob, I need you bad."

I took my cock in my hand and I guided my cock head to her gaping hole. I fitting my mushroom to her opening and I entered Darla's pussy. She was tight, that much was for sure. I went slow and fed Darla an inch at a time. I finally had my cock inside her the whole way. Our pubic bones were touching. I withdrew my cock and then pushed in the whole way. That got Darla's attention.

Darla strapped her legs around my back and I gave her the cock she desired. We were going at it hard. Darla needed my cock, that much was for sure. My balls were bouncing off her firm bottom. I looked down to see Darla panting for air. 

God Rob, your cock is so thick!" she told me.

I was glad I was able to satisfy Darla's needs. And oh was she needy. I lowered my face and I took a hard nipple into my mouth. I started sucking and chewing one then the other. Darla's pussy was gripping me hard. I was trying to hold back and fuck her longer. It got to the point where I was close. I told Darla I was getting ready.

"Don't pull out Rob! I want you to cum inside me."

I normally use a condom but I was caught unawares this time. I drove my prick into Darla as hard as I could and in a few minutes I shot my load. Darla screamed out loud once more. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I sent hot ropes of my loving into her belly. I was quite sure Darla was having some orgasms. Her pussy muscles were going into convulsions. All I know is that I had a big load I deposited into Darla's belly.

We must have continued to fuck for some minutes. I finally felt empty and I left my cock in Darla's pussy so she could milk me dry. I soon pulled my dick out and looked to see my white spunk dripping from Darla's black hole. 

"That was fantastic," she told me. 

We kissed and then Darla went to the bathroom to clean herself up.

"I guess I can't go back home after all," she told me.

I sure didn't want her leaving now. I ended up spending the night in Darla's bed. I awoke to find Darla's lips wrapped around my dick. She was working to get me hard once more. It was working. Darla pulled away and she held my erect member in her hand. Darla didn't waste any time. She climbed over top of me. I felt her pussy lips brushing my knob. She worked her way down and I had my cock buried inside Darla once more. 

I gripped her ass cheeks as Darla rode me hard. There was more moaning and screaming as Darla took my cock for her herself. As Darla squeezed my rod with her muscles I reached up and found her large melons. I rubbed the palms of my hands over her ripe nipples. That got Darla worked up for sure. She slammed her ass down on my groin and we fucked like two wild animals.

We did it much longer this time around. Darla asked me if I had any cum left in me. I had no idea. I figured this time around was for her. I brought my ass up and I filled Darla completely with cock. I could tell she was close. Her body was shaking from the fucking she was taking. I figured that this was it. I did manage to squirt some seed into Darla's belly. You guessed it. She screamed her bloody head off when she felt me explode.

That woman sure knew how to arouse a man. She had more orgasms as she squeezed my bone dry. After we finished Darla collapsed onto my chest.

"I hope you want me around," she said.

I wasn't going to trade Darla for any reason. 

That weekend was one big fucking session. My cock was so sore by Sunday I didn't think I could go much more. We did have one final fuck. Darla got onto all fours. She lifted her ass up and she said she wanted me to put my cock into her bottom. I guess I was surprised she wanted it that way. I did as she asked. I knew my dick was really going to be sore now. Darla's ass was so damn tight. 

I managed to get all the way inside her. My hands went to her hips and I drilled her butt. I could look down and see her big tits swaying as I pushed my dick in. The results were the same that morning. Darla squeezed my prick until I unloaded in her bowels. I finished and then reached around and squeezed her low hanging tits. That seemed to push Darla over the edge for the last time that weekend.

I left that afternoon and went back to my apartment. I looked at my cock and it was red and screaming at me. I only hoped I could have a breather from all that fucking. On Monday, Darla was all smiles. She joined me at lunch and she asked if she did alright. I told her my cock hurt so much from all that sex we had together.

"You're going to be able to go again, I hope?"

I said I would make an except for her. I think some of our co-workers were catching on that we were seeing each other. A few guys told me I was one lucky dog. One guy told me he was half pissed. I had gotten to Darla before he did. His loss was my gain. Darla and I see each other most evenings. It isn't all fucking but we do quite a bit of that as well.

Things are going so well that Darla will soon be moving in with me. I only hope I can satisfy her as much as she needs.



Falling in Love with Mom



My first story. Not very original, but I welcome all comments.

I am extremely grateful to GrandTeton for taking the time out to edit this. Thanks GT.

All characters are above 18.

*************************

How do you fall in love with your own Mother? Speaking for myself, it didn't take much of an effort. Ever since I can remember it has always been Mom and me. I didn't know my father and didn't have the slightest interest in finding out about him. Sure we had grandma, but once grandpa bought the farm, she moved to a retirement home in sunny Florida and we only saw her once or twice a year. 

I never asked my Mother about my father. I knew she had been hurt by him and I didn't want her to relive the memories. The story I gleaned from grandma was that he had convinced Mom that he loved her and he had promised marriage. Then when he found out Mom was pregnant with me, he disappeared.

Rat Bastard.

Mom worked for a mid-sized national accounting firm. I was proud of her - finishing college while changing my diapers was no mean feat. She was always there for me, be it the lame plays I was in when I was a kid, or coming to watch my baseball games. The firm she worked for had a competitive environment, and I was sure she could have risen to the top had she not dedicated so much of her time to me. Coming home on time instead of working late, taking her vacation time so we could go around the country, spending the weekends with me instead of going to the office, all probably caused her to lose out on a few promotions. I did love her to bits for sacrificing so much for me.

I used to be waiting for her when she came home from work. By that time I had done my homework. The spare time I had, I used to help around the house. By that I mean doing the laundry, mowing the lawn or keeping everything neat and tidy. I loved her unconditionally and I really wanted to show how much I appreciated her. I was the model son - I don't think I had ever given her a reason to raise her voice at me. 

Mom would come home in the evening and the first thing she would do was give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I would return the hug, loving the feel of her soft, warm body against mine. With that done, she would walk upstairs to her bedroom, asking me about my day and telling me about hers, and I would follow her like a lovesick puppy. And then she would strip for me.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm sure when it first started it was innocent and harmless. I used to be in her bedroom, and she had to change out of the clothes she wore to work. And since we were already in the middle of a conversation it didn't make sense for her to ask me to leave.

She had a large mirror on one of the walls, with the dresser next to it. She would make sure to always turn away from me as she undressed. Now I was a red-blooded male, and it didn't take me long to realize I was getting the show of my life in the mirror. I'm sure she knew I was watching her, but she never did say anything, she just kept our conversation going. I also tried to act as normal as I could while watching my gorgeous Mother take off her clothes.

First she would unbutton her blouse. Her breasts, hidden by her bra, would be revealed for my hungry eyes. They were big and firm. On her small frame they looked absolutely spectacular. I used to cherish the days she would wear a slightly smaller bra, which caused her tits to almost spill out, creating a deep 'V' of cleavage.

Then she would unzip her skirt. I never quite knew where to look at that moment. She would swing and wiggle her hips to try and get the skirt to drop her down. This caused her delightfully saucy butt and her tits to jiggle simultaneously, so I was always trying my best to soak in both of them.

Once down to her underwear, she would sit in front of the dresser and brush her hair. Occasionally, she would apply some cream to her legs and arms. All the while she would keep up our conversation. I used this time to study her. Her flawless complexion. Her lustrous brown hair. The pretty face with her cute little button nose. Her generous breasts which I yearned to touch and her cleavage where I wished to bury my face.

And while she would be brushing her hair, Mom would always be looking in the mirror, right back at me. Inevitably, once I was done checking her out, I would move my eyes up and our eyes would meet. I would blush a deep crimson at having been caught, but I never would break eye contact with her. I thought she was gorgeous, and while I was embarrassed, I wasn't ashamed at being caught looking at her; I did not want to apologize. And she never did say anything. She would smile, and I would find myself smiling too.

She would proceed to her closet, where she would take out one of her gowns. Putting it one, she would turn away from me, and once hidden from my prying eyes, she would reach behind her back and unhook her bra, discarding it on the bed. Then, she would pull the gown close and turn towards me with a bright smile. Ruffling my hair, she would tell me that she was going to get started on dinner and to meet her downstairs in fifteen.

I would use this time to scurry to my room and masturbate.

When I joined her downstairs for dinner, we would continue talking. Me about school or my teachers. She about her work or her friends. The new gaming console I wanted to buy. The new book she wants to read.

After dinner, I would help her clear away the dishes. She would thank me and we would walk upstairs. Then once we reached the top of the stairs, she would draw me into a warm hug and gently kiss me goodnight on the cheek. As she whispered in my ear how much she loved me, I would revel in the comforting warmth and softness of her breasts, separated from me by only her thin gown. I would gaze at her longingly and lovingly, and then she'd go into her bedroom and I would retreat into mine, proceeding to furiously masturbate again to my thoughts and fantasies of Mom. I never felt any guilt; I never felt like I was doing anything wrong in thinking of my Mother in such a way. Yes, I did know that most sons don't think of their mothers like this, but I loved her, and I knew she loved me. Maybe not in the way I did, but it was something. 

And to quote an oft repeated phrase, "how can love be wrong?"

*************************

Some things change as time passes. I grew taller and my body filled out and got some definition. I didn't play any sport, but jogging in the morning and an occasional trip to the gym kept me in pretty good shape. Once finished with school, I enrolled for part-time classes at the local college and started working part-time at a small financial advisory firm. The hours were easy but the work was challenging, yet I didn't find it too tough. I guess I got the gift of numbers from Mom.

In my eyes, the passing years had made Mom even more beautiful than ever. She had let her dark brown hair grow a bit longer, so it now fell just below her shoulder instead of just above. She was still the same 5'2" - about a foot shorter than me - but had gained a few pounds. Nothing too extreme, and even though she would often whine and complain to me that she needed to lose some weight, I thought those extra pounds made her look even more desirable and sexy. They seemed to have gone to her chest, and I swear her breasts looked even bigger than they had been. 

(For the record, I did not know what her cup size was. Even though I was a huge pervert by pretty much any standards - fantasizing about and masturbating to my Mother - I respected her privacy too much to go around snooping in her underwear drawer.)

Some things didn't change. My twentieth birthday was a few months away, yet I continued living with Mom. I could have moved out to a place of my own had I wanted. I didn't. We never discussed my moving out; we were both content with the status quo. I don't think either of us could bear the thought of us not living together. 

I had started helping around the house a lot more: doing small repairs, washing and waxing her car, or anything else that the 'man' of the house should do. The money I was earning helped. I would often buy small things for Mom: a pair of earrings I saw in the mall - not very expensive - but I knew they would look nice on her, or a large bouquet of flowers, or some Swiss chocolates, just because. 

I was actually quite proud of my role in the house. I began to see myself as the man in my Mother's life. I knew Mom had never dated since she gave birth to me. I guess being abandoned by the prick that is my father had turned her bitter. I didn't blame her, and I was determined to fill the void in her life.

Secretly, I was glad she didn't date. I couldn't bear the thought of Mom being with anyone else. I wanted her all for myself. Selfish? Very. I have to admit, I did go out with a few girls in high school. I did end up losing my virginity to one of them when I was 18, and even though she told me repeatedly how great the sex had been, I felt hollow and empty afterwards. Strangely enough, I felt like I was cheating on Mom. I thought of how she would be alone in bed, probably reading a book and waiting for me to get home. How could I have abandoned her like that? I swore to myself to always be there for her. Stupid and juvenile maybe, but after that I hardly ever dated in college. Mom was the only girl for me.

Like I said, some things don't change. Every evening when Mom came home from work, she would find me waiting for her. The huge smile she had for me would make the wait worthwhile. She would give me a hug and a loving kiss. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she would walk upstairs, and I would faithfully follow her up to her bedroom. And as we talked, I would watch her undress.

*************************

It was Friday. I was beat and looking forward to some R&R over the weekend. I had a couple of classes in the morning, and then from noon till four-thirty I was at work. I got home just around five.

I didn't really have much to do so I used the time to take a quick shower and change into a comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Then I went into the kitchen and started fixing things up for dinner. While I did help around the house as much as I could, I was clueless in the kitchen and couldn't boil water to save my life. I took out some chicken from the freezer for Mom to make and then set the table. Oh, and I prepared a simple salad for our dinner and kept it in the fridge. That much I can manage.

At six, I head her car pull into the driveway. She walked into the door and put her purse on the coffee table. Spotting me, she gave me a big smile.

"Hi sweetie," she said, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a peck on the cheek. "Boy, am I glad for the weekend. I thought the day would never end."

"Hi Mom," I replied, returning her hug and giving her cheek a kiss of my own. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to the weekend too."

She sighed contentedly and nuzzled her head against my chest. "Come on upstairs then, and tell me about your day. Did you take something out of the freezer for dinner? Chicken? Great."

Obediently, I followed her upstairs and into her bedroom. She kept chattering about work and I was content to just look and listen.

"That Kim is such a bitch," she muttered under her breath as she kicked off her heels. I chuckled. She rarely ever used bad language and I always found it hilarious when she swore or cursed around me.

"Language, missy," I said in the sternest voice I could manage.

She rolled her eyes at me but suppressed a smile as she began unbuttoning her light blue blouse. Very modest, nary a hint of cleavage. Until her bra-enclosed breasts appeared in the mirror, that is. She was wearing a black bra; one of my favorites (though honestly speaking, any bra she wears is my favorite). Nothing too racy or fancy, but it did a remarkable job of pushing her tits together. I hungrily drank in the sight of her cleavage. 

With the blouse out of the way, she unbuttoned her skirt - a black conservative piece that reached slightly below her knees. Wiggling her butt, she let it drop to the floor and my attention was directed from her breasts to her ass, enclosed in a matching pair of black panties. Her ass looked delectable. Her legs looked even more delicious. I was as hard as I could ever be.

Mom sat her pretty little butt down near the dresser. Picking up a tissue paper, she began removing the light make-up she had put on in the morning. 

"So Danny boy, it's Friday night. What are your plans? Got a hot date tonight?" she asked.

I forced myself to stop leering at her and looked up. My eyes met hers in the mirror and she was looking right back at me. A small smile lingered around her lips.

"No plans, Mom," I answered. "Just looking forward to spending some quality time with my favorite gal."

She sighed as she picked up her hair brush and began running it though her hair. "You really need to get out a bit sweetie. I hardly ever see you with any girls. You can't stay with your old Mommy for your entire life can you?"

"Why not, Mom? The last twenty odd years have been pretty great, don't you think? Let's aim for another twenty. And besides, every girl I've met so far at college has been an idiot."

She put the hair brush down and shook her head rather theatrically, causing her breasts to jiggle delightfully and forcing me to look at them again. "I might have thought you were gay but at least I know that's not the case," she said with a grin, meeting my eyes in the mirror. Busted again.

Still smiling, she got up and made her way to the closet and took out her light pink nightgown.

Every other night, EVERY other night, she had turned away from me as she put on her gown and THEN reached behind to unhook her bra. Not tonight.

Facing me, she casually reached behind and unhooked the snaps of her bra. My mouth went dry. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, the bra slipped to the floor, baring her naked breasts to me in all their glory.

I'm always hard while I watch my Mother undress, yet over the years, I have learnt enough to keep a small part of my brain functioning in order to be able to make basic conversation. Unfortunately, once I saw her naked tits, the small portion of blood that keeps my brain going abandoned ship and fled down to my cock. I have NEVER been harder or more aroused in my life than at that moment.

Where do I start? How can I even begin to describe how incredible my Mother's breasts are? I had got brief glimpses over the years but never the full show. Full. Ripe. Supple. Fantastic. Magnificent. Tempting. I used to think they were large, but they were LARGE. Like two generous scoops of vanilla ice-cream. Her areolas were a pinkish-brown. Her nipples were dead centered and I swear I could hear them calling out to me to suck them. A very slight hint of sag, but to me that made them all the more sexier. 

I was vaguely aware that Mom was still talking to me. Maybe. I don't know. I'm pretty sure my heart had stopped beating for those few glorious moments. Maybe I had died and gone to heaven and these were the pearly gates I had heard about. She reached for the gown and put it on. 

"Sweetie?" she repeated, pulling her gown close and breaking the spell she had on me.

"Wha ma?" I managed to get out.

"I said could you come downstairs and help me around the kitchen in a bit?"

"Sure Mom," I managed to croak.

Giving my painfully obvious and painfully aroused cock an amused glance, she walked out to make dinner.

*************************

Having heroically managed to subdue my boner, I went downstairs to help Mom with dinner. Well, not really. As I have mentioned, cooking really isn't my forte, and with the salad done, there really wasn't much else for me to do. So I just stood in a corner and stared at her as she busied herself around the kitchen. God, I loved her so much it actually hurt.

We kept chatting away as she went about preparing our meal. I'm not really a people person, but it was sooo easy talking to Mom. I really loved telling her about my boring day. I loved listening to her. I loved making her laugh - my heart would jump when I succeeded. I felt that I could - and I did - tell her anything and everything.

Except about my incestuous infatuation of course.

"Soul mates," I mumbled under my breath during a pause in our conversation.

"What's that honey?"

"Uh, nothing Mom," I mumbled rather lamely. How I wished I could tell her how I felt.

She turned around and looked at me, and she still had that small, mysterious smile on her lips. I could have sworn she was reading my mind. She walked up to me and put her hands on my chest, causing my heart to flutter. 

"Well, I'm all done here, so why don't you take out a bottle of wine for us to share over dinner?"

"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised. I was old enough to drink but had never drank alcohol in her presence.

"Really," she said. Standing on her tip-toes she gave me a light kiss on the corner of my mouth. "Hurry up sweetie, don't keep Mommy waiting," she said with a small giggle.

Dinner with Mom was always pleasant, but tonight it was even better - I think the wine helped loosen us up even more. I had had hard liquor before, so I didn't expect a glass of red to affect me much, but it did. Mom too. I think it was that we were so comfortable around each other that the wine just aided and abetted. I knew that neither of us were anywhere close to drunk, but it was fun acting like it and going with the flow.

There was still half a bottle of wine left, so while I cleared the dishes, Mom filled both of our glasses and suggested we move to the couch.

Any physical contact with her was more than welcome and I readily agreed. With our glasses on the side table, Mom snuggled up to me, resting her head on my chest. I gently stroked her hair, both of us happily content.

"This feels good," she whispered.

"I know Mom. I love being with you. I wouldn't give this up for anything in the world."

She raised her head up from my chest and looked at me. There was a strange expression on her face that I had never seen before. 

"Do you really mean that, honey?"

"Of course I do, Mom."

"Earlier in the evening...you...you said that I was your favorite gal, did you really mean that sweetheart?"

I moved my hand from her hair and gently stroked her cheek. "I do Mom," I said softly. "You always have been and always will be my favorite girl. You are my life. I love you so much. More than anything else in the world." I kissed her gently on the top of her head.

"I love you too, sweetheart. You are my everything. I'm never more happier than when I am with you."

I looked at her with all the love I had for her and I hoped she could see what I felt. And when I looked into her eyes I realized that she did, and that she felt it too.

We were in love. I always knew that I loved her like a man loves a woman. And while I always knew she loved me as a son, it took me the better part of nearly twenty years to realize that she loved me too, like a woman loves a man.

"I love you," we said at the same time.

We kissed. I cannot blame it on the wine, because I don't want to and because it would be a lie. I don't know who initiated it; I like to think we both did simultaneously. Before I knew it she was kissing me with more love and passion that I had ever known or experienced. And I was kissing her back. It was incredible. I had never kissed or been kissed like that. It was hot, wet and loving. There was no hesitation on either of our parts. I had bared my soul, my deepest desire, to her and she reciprocated. There was no going back now.

Tiny electric shocks ran down my body as I felt her tongue touch mine, I moved my hand down and gently yet firmly cupped her breast from above the gown. She moaned into my mouth but never stopped kissing me. I slowly undid her gown until her breasts lay bare for me. I cupped them, feeling their warmth. I marveled at how incredible they felt in my hands. Amazing. Better than I had ever imagined or dreamed. Soft, firm, warm, tender...I cannot describe the feelings coursing through me as my lifelong dream of touching my Mother's breasts came true. I gently pinched and tugged at her nipples, causing her to moan and giggle into my mouth.




Falling in Love with Mom



She broke the kiss and looked at me. I recognized the look in her eyes. Longing. Hunger. Desire. The same look I've had all these years for her.

Mom reached down and grabbed hold of my hard cock. She gave it a quick squeeze through my shorts and slowly stroked it. I gasped and then moaned. "I don't know about you sweetie, but I'm tired of waiting," she said softly. Fuck. Everything I had fantasized about was coming true.

I kissed her again, but did not linger this time. I kissed her throat, sucking on her neck. My target was her chest. I wanted to taste her tits. She ran her hand through my hair, encouraging me and guiding me towards her luscious orbs.

I kissed all over her naked flesh, trying my best to coat every inch with my tongue. Lightly flicking her areola with my tongue, I caught one of her pink nipples in my mouth. I gently started sucking on it.

"Oh yes, my love," she hissed, "suck on Mommy's tits. Make Mommy feel good."

I obliged, loving son that I was. Increasing my pressure on her nipples, I started sucking with more force. I caressed and pinched her other breast with my hand.

"Did you know that you used to suck on my swollen boobies for hours when you were a baby?" she asked dreamily. "Oh God, Danny, you used to spend hours on them nursing away until you had sucked them dry. It always used to make me so hot and horny. You've always made Mommy feel so good darling. I love you, Danny."

"I love you too, Mom." She smiled and kissed me. Keeping her lips on mine, she slowly lowered my shorts down until my cock sprang out. She gasped. I'm not freakishly huge, just slightly above average, but she seemed very pleased with what she saw.

"My baby boy has really grown up, hasn't he?" Mom murmured as she gazed up at me and slowly started stroking me.

"What kind of a Mother would I be," she asked almost to herself, "if I took my baby boy's cock in my mouth?" She looked up at me. I could see the desire but there was also some hesitation. "You do realize there is no going back after this, don't you sweetie? Things will change. I know how much you want me. I've always known. And I want you too. But if things get screwed up, we can never go back to just being Mom-Son."

I kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair, trying to comfort her. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to Mom. I love you too much to hurt you. But for what it's worth, you will never lose me. I'll always be yours."

She smiled as though I had given the right answer. Leaning down, she gave my cock a light kiss.

"You're the first guy I've ever done this for, honey," she said. "And you'll be my last."

Before my brain could even start working on comprehending her words, she took my cock down her warm mouth. And my brain exploded. I had NEVER felt this much pleasure. It was almost too much for me to bear. I clutched the couch. My toes curled up. I gasped for air. All the while my Mother kept sucking my cock.

"Oh god, Mom, this feels so good," I gasped. "I love you so much."

She looked up at me, clearly pleased at the effect she had on me and my reaction. She started bobbing her head up and down my shaft, keeping her eyes on me, watching me. Working her tongue down my shaft. Always keeping a gentle suction around my cock head. Never letting go for a moment. She happily hummed around my cock, increasing the pleasure I felt. It felt fucking incredible and I knew that I wasn't going to last long.

"Mom, I'm going to cum," I said, running my hands through her hair, to try and lift her mouth from my dick. I knew some women did not like swallowing, and if this really was Mom's first time giving a blowjob, I wanted to let her know that it was okay if she stopped right now and used her hand to get me off. She didn't.

She kept looking right at me as the cum rose from my balls and shot out of my cockhead with an incredible force. I groaned loudly as I shots wads of my spunk into her waiting mouth. I could feel her swallowing and that turned me on even more, causing my orgasm to prolong. I gasped for breath as Mom sucked the last dregs of cum from my cock. Spent, I lay there passively, while Mom cleaned up my cock. Once done, she gave me a smile and a mischievous wink.

Wiping the remnants of my seed from the corner of her mouth, she made to get up. I reached out and pulled her towards me. Surprising her, and myself, I kissed her passionately. I don't think she was expecting me to kiss her, given that her mouth still tasted of my cum, and frankly speaking, had it been anyone else I probably wouldn't have done it. But damn, this was Mom! She had just finished sucking me off and swallowing! I had to show her how much I appreciated it. She was taken aback for a couple of moments and just let me explore her mouth with my tongue, but then I could feel her smile and she kissed me back.

"Let's go upstairs, baby," she whispered huskily, breaking the kiss. "Let's go to my room."

I nodded, but I had a slightly different idea of how we would be getting there. Getting up, I scooped her in my arms; she squealed and laughed in delight as I carried her up the stairs.

"My baby boy has become so big and strong," she whispered reverently, almost to herself.

I smiled and paused at her doorway to give her a wet kiss. She laughed as I walked up to her bed and gently laid my sweetheart down. She slipped off her robe so now all that remained were her black panties. Smiling, she lay back on the bed, and beckoned me.

"Take off my panties, Daniel."

Hands trembling, I reached for the waistband. Then with a quick motion, I pulled her panties down her legs and off her feet. I was delighted to note that her panties nice and wet for me. I could smell her womanly arousal in the air.

My Mother was naked in front of me. Unfuckingbelievable. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed and I could see her vaginal opening. My Mother. All for me. She actually wanted me to make love to her. And do so much more.

"Mmm, honey, I think you're a bit overdressed for what we're about to do," she said with a laugh.

I chuckled and pulled off my shirt. I was now completely naked in front of my Mother. She ran her eyes appreciatively over my body.

I leaned over her and gave her a quick kiss. Then I moved down towards her pussy. I tenderly kissed her inner thigh, inhaling her rich scent. As I moved my face closer to her pussy, Mom asked me what I was doing.

"I'm returning the favor Mom. I'm showing you how much your baby boy loves you."

She gasped in surprise and pleasure as I began licking her pussy. I wasn't an expert or anything, but I went with my instinct and it seemed to be working well. She tasted delicious. I listened to her moans and gasps to try and figure out what she liked. Sucking on her clit seemed to get the most reaction out of her, so I concentrated on kissing and nibbling away at it, while lapping away at her juices. Mom's breathing became heavier and her moans increased and I knew she was close. I increased my efforts on her pussy and she suddenly went rigid, a low moan emanating from her. My face was rewarded with a flow of her lady cum around my face.

I kept kissing and stroking around her sensitive pussy until she had calmed down. Then I moved up and kissed her on the lips. Mom was looking a bit wide-eyed, but was smiling.

"That was incredible honey. Thank you so much."

I smiled and kissed her again. My cock was now positioned just above her opening. I could feel her wetness. We were close, very close. Our noses were touching. And she was looking at me.

"Mom, do you want me to use a condom?" I asked.

"I'm not on birth control honey," she said. "There was no point you see. But now...honey, I want to feel you inside me. I need you so much darling. But if anything happens..." her voice trailed off.

I reached over and kissed her. I looked into her eyes. Even though it was obvious how much she meant to me, I wanted to reaffirm my commitment to her. She had been hurt before and I had sworn that I would never let her get hurt again. I intended to keep that promise.

"I love you," I said. "I want you to know that I am in this for the long run. This isn't a one night thing. I want you - I have always wanted you. Yesterday, today and forever. I'll always be with you Mom. No matter what happens."

She looked into my eyes and nodded happily. "I love you too, Daniel. Now and forever."

Our lips met in a kiss and I penetrated my Mother.

I was home.

Our tongues gently caressed.

Our eyes filled with love and happiness.

My cock in my Mother's cunt. Where I came from. Where I've always belonged. 

I slowly started increasing my pace as I moved in and out in long, measured strokes. Mom would gasp into my mouth when I pushed all the way in, and sigh when I pulled out.

She broke our kiss and looked into my eyes as I continued pounding away at her hot and wet pussy. 

"Oh God babe, you feel so good inside me. You're making Mommy feel so good," she gasped as I plunged in and out of her.

"You feel incredible Mom," I gasped out as I redoubled my efforts. Her pussy felt so hot and tight. I was in heaven. I could feel the cum building up in my balls and I knew I was close.

"I'm gonna cum, honey! You're going to make Mommy cum."

"Me too, Mom," I gasped. "I'm so close. Can I cum inside you Mom? Please let me cum inside you."

She wrapped her legs tighter around me. "Always," she hissed into my ear. "You're always going to cum inside me..."

With one final thrust I pushed as deep inside her as I could be as I shot my load. 

I collapsed on top of her after what can only be described as the biggest orgasm of my life. We were both gasping for breath; her vaginal muscles were still squeezing my softening cock, trying to milk out the last remnants of my cum. We kissed as we hugged and embraced. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

**************

The morning after

I felt Mom stir beside me. Her gorgeous butt had been pushing against my erection. Mom turned around looking sleepy, but flashed me one of her brilliant smiles. "Good morning baby. Last night was incredible, wasn't it?"

I lightly kissed her neck in response. She felt so good. Delicious and warm. I slowly started planting soft kisses on the nape of her neck. She moaned sweetly as I planted my lips on her throat.

"Oh god, baby," she gasped.

I rubbed her belly tenderly, then I let my fingers drift downwards. She caught her breath sharply as my fingers dug lower, towards her warm, inviting womanhood.

I lightly circled my fingers around her hot and inviting pussy. I could feel her getting wetter with each passing second.

"I love you so much, Mom," I whispered in her ear. "I want you again."

"Oh yes darling," she hissed. "I'm all yours"

Smiling, I moved towards her breasts. I took my time, gently nuzzling the exposed flesh with my face and nose, inhaling the wonderful scent - her perfume mixed with her own natural fragrance.

"You feel so good, Mom," I managed to mutter. 

"So incredible," I whispered. I gently rubbed up and down her warm and slick slit with my fingers. Her breathing quickened and her juices began to flow.

"Stop teasing me, darling," she managed through ragged breaths. "Be a good boy and suck on Mommy's breasts," she said as she pinched her nipples.

With a low growl, I pounced on her meaty tits. I lost control for a while: I was trying to kiss, suck, bite and touch each and every part of her breasts at once. Mom gently ran a finger through my hair, calming me down, before bringing my mouth close to one of her tits.

"That's it, darling," she whispered hoarsely. "Suck on Mommy's titties. You can use your teeth too if you like."

With an involuntary groan, I obliged, lightly raking my teeth along her erect nipple. Mom gasped in pleasure as I used my teeth to hold her breast in place, while I furiously sucked on her now engorged and puffy nipple. It seemed Mom was also arching up, trying to thrust more of her into my mouth.

"Ooh, yes sweetheart. Suck Mommy's nipple. Just like you did all those years ago. You'd like that wouldn't you? Drinking Mommy's milk again?"

I could only whimper in assent as my fingers moved furiously in and out of her now very wet cunt. Faster and faster. My free hand was pinching her other nipple. Mom's breathing quickened. I could sense she was close.

"Oh god baby, darling, yes, YES! Make Mommy cum!" she screamed as her body was wracked by a powerful orgasm. I could feel her wetness flow out her cunt and envelop my hand, and her body jerked upwards involuntarily. Had it not been for my vise like grip on her tits, I am sure she would have bucked me off.

I reduced the intensity of my sucking and gently and lovingly caressed her pussy. Gradually her breathing returned to normal, and with a loud 'pop' I finally let go of her breast. She continued slowly stroking my hard cock.

"Darling, I told you that I'm not on any sort of birth control, so there is a high chance of me getting pregnant. Are you sure you would be okay with that?"

"Oh yes, Mom, nothing would make me happier than having a baby with you."

She smiled. "Mmm, I guess that as your Mother I should say that you're too young to be a father. But then I did have you when I was your age. So it's not really my place to say anything, is it?"

She opened her legs, showing her inviting cunt, glistening with her juices, ready for me. 

"Go on baby," she giggled. "Stick your hard cock up me if you want to drink milk from my breasts again. We may have succeeded last night but let's not leave things to chance."

*The End*

*****

Dedicated to that anonymous guy who always comments on almost every mom-son story and writes an entire paragraph about how great it is to cum in your mom. You're my hero!



Falling in Love with my Best Friend



Summary: Straight girl begins to question her sexuality.

Note 1: This is dedicated to HOLLY who requested the true love story be told.

Note 2: This is a Valentine's Day 2015 Contest story do please vote.

Note 3: Thanks to Robert, Wayne and goamz86 for editing this tale.

Falling in Love with my Best Friend

Love...it comes when you least expect it.

At twenty-five and after a never ending fiasco of one failed relationship after another with men, I decided to swear off them for a while. I didn't realize at the time it meant forever, but that definitely ended up being the case.

My life at the time I met Janie probably was pretty mundane in retrospect. I was finishing off school, I went out with friends to dance, went to the gym, and took photos of everything.

Everyone has addictions. Mine are photography and shoes. When I'm depressed I go shoe shopping; when I'm happy I go shoe shopping; when I'm bored I go shoe shopping. I have over 50 pairs of shoes and heels in my closet...many I never have the right occasion to wear.

I also love nature. When I'm stressed, I put on my hiking boots and go for a long hike. There is nothing better for putting life into perspective than being one with nature. Away from the noisy, overcrowded, pretentious city life, one can quickly remember what life is really about...something that is easy to forget when working in the deadline based, fast paced world of the city.

Mom always said the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach (though I've learned it's actually through his penis and a willingness to blow him every time he gets the urge, quite frankly...if you don't, some other skank will), and I have always been an amazing cook. I love to create new recipes and experiment. 

I'm pretty average when it comes to women my age; I don't mean that in a negative way, just a matter of fact sort of way. I mean, I'm cute in a Sandra Bullock kind of way, but not model sexy like most young actresses nowadays. I'm 5'7, 149 pounds (and determined to never hit 150), 34B breasts (not too big, not too small), hazel eyes, brunette shoulder length hair, with nice toned legs, a firm ass and pretty toes.

Anyways, enough background about me. This is the story of how I accidentally became a lesbian and found the love of my life.

I was just finishing up my last semester towardsmy degree in Business Administration. I decided to look for a part time job, something to occupy my time, and found one as a hostess at a café named Coffee Palace.

It was close to home, and I immediately felt comfortable, particularly because of one of the baristas, Janie. 

Now it wasn't like I fell in love with her the minute I met her, that is way too Hollywood chick flick. But there was an unexplainable, undeniable pull towards her. It could have been her warm personality, her charming smile or her laissez faire attitude towards life (she loved every day the way I tried but failed miserably to do). 

She trained me, and the more we chatted, the more we realized we had a lot in common, even though she was 31 and had a young niece, Cindy, whom she had adopted when a crazy situation arose. We both loved shopping (although I suppose that's true for most woman), both loved working out and staying in shape, and we both loved nature. 

While I was a shy woman, uncomfortable in front of large groups, she was a people person who easily mingled with all cliques of people. She was a social butterfly I was a wallflower...yet we became almost inseparable.

We went shopping together, we started working out together and I even took her to my secret place of solitude, something I had never done with anyone.

Over the next couple of months, I also babysat little Cindy on a few occasions when Janie needed a babysitter. I began to take any opportunity possible to spend time with Janie. I would almost always come over2 or 3 hours before she was planning to leave and we would talk and I noticed she was often giving me very flattering compliments. It felt like she was hitting on me, yet she would never go any further than compliments or squeezing my arm. I would giggle like a school girl. Loving the attention and hinting I wanted more...even though those feelings confused me greatly. 

We got into a fun routine where she would model her dresses for me and ask me to pick the one that made her look sexy. After the first couple of times doing this, I noticed I was getting wet and thought 'can this be? Am I getting turned on by this?' But on those occasions, I quickly pushed the thought out of my head as silly and just a symptom of sexual withdrawal, with no man in my current life or on the near horizons.

Then came my birthday on April 17th. I have never been a big birthday person, so I thought Janie had no idea it was my birthday when she called me and pleaded I come over right away and babysit as something had come up and she needed to leave ASAP.

Of course, I agreed. 

When I got there, Janie hollered, "Come up to my bedroom, Holly."

I had been in her room many times as already mentioned, helping her choose her outfits when she went out...Janie being an avid clubber, something I wasn't a big fan of. I had gone out with her a few times, but usually I would babysit instead and use the late evenings to study so this wasn't out of the ordinary.

I had seen Janie in only a bra and panties, sometimes pantyhose or thigh high stockings, but never completely naked...until now. 

I walked into her bedroom and she was completely naked sitting on the edge of the bed putting on a second nylon stocking. As I looked closer, I noticed that besides being topless, she also wasn't wearing any panties. 

She finished putting the stocking on, stood up, ran over and pulled me into a big hug as she greeted me all excited, "Happy birthday, Holly."

I got a full face of her boobs and suddenly I panicked. Although I definitely had feelings for her, the sudden intimate act, which wasn't overly intimate, just Janie being Janie, startled me and I pushed her away and darted from the room, stammering, "I-I-I'll be downstairs."

My mind was spinning as I sat downstairs. If I hadn't pushed her away, what might have happened? Why was my pussy suddenly tingling with desire? I definitely found Janie attractive, but coming from a very conservative home, being a lesbian was a definite no-no.

Janie came down the stairs dressed and apologized, "I'm so sorry, Holly. I thought I read the signs better. I wanted to give you a birthday to remember."

Flustered and uncomfortable talking about it, I said, "Please, I don't want to talk about it."

 "Okay," Janie nodded, a look of hurt and guilt on her face. She went to the kitchen and returned with a wrapped present, "Here's your real present."

"Y-y-you didn't have to," I stammered.

"You've become my new best friend, Holly," she explained. "Although I'm a little annoyed you didn't tell me it was your birthday."

"How did you find out?" I asked.

"Facebook," she answered. "I saw your many birthday wishes from family."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, as she handed me the gift.

"I hate to make a big deal about it," I answered.

"You're a big deal to me," Janie smiled.

I laughed, before asking, suddenly very curious, "Sooooo, what did you get me?"

"Open it and find out," she answered.

I unwrapped the box and was shocked to see a new camera. I gasped, "Janie, this is too much."

"Nonsense," she said, waving a hand. "The amount of free babysitting you do for me, I imagine I owe you a lot more than that. Plus, you can't put a price on friendship."

"Thank you," I said, tears beginning to stream down my eyes. 

"Come get a non-naked hug," Janie smiled, her charming smile breaking down the brief awkwardness of earlier.

I learned that Cindy was actually staying overnight at Janie's mom's for the night, and tonight was my surprise birthday celebration.

Janie sent me upstairs to get into something a little more sexy than my t-shirt and jeans and then we headed out for a late dinner and even later movie.

All night, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have her. I also began questioning whether I had made the right decision to push her away when that intimate moment occurred.

Was I bi?

I was definitely curious.

Could I have a sexual relationship with another woman?

What would happen if it didn't go well? I couldn't fathom Janie not in my life anymore.

What would my parents say if I brought a woman home?

Yet, I was never happier than when I was with Janie. That was definitely true.

Over the next month, Janie never brought up that day and stopped flirting with me completely. There is that saying 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' and that was definitely true in this case. I missed Janie's teasing sexual innuendo, I missed her gentle touches. I continually replayed that brief moment when her naked body touched me and almost nightly my bedtime routine included masturbating to that moment but with a much different ending.

My feelings confusing me, I went online. I did some research and eventually ended up finding a site called Literotica. I began reading lesbian stories and found myself imagining me being the protagonist in many of them. I came across an author, silkstockingslover, and after reading a few of her stories and getting turned on majorly, I came across a story called 'Bedding the Babysitter'. That story and its many sequels changed my life. 

I imagined I was the young babysitter, Jenny, and that Megan, the seductress of the story, was Janie. I couldn't stop pleasuring myself and frantically fingered my fevered cunt until all my pent up sexual frustration exploded out of me when I reached orgasm.

I kept reading and reading the entire story series and wishing that was me and Janie; I realized that I was submissive through this story; I loved pleasing people in all aspects of my life including in the bedroom; I wanted Janie to dominate and make love to me as happened to Jenny by both Megan and, later, a cheerleader named Karen.

I came to grips that I likely was a lesbian, or at least leaning that way, as I no longer found guys attractive and I had been hit on many times while working at the coffee shop as well at school while finishing up my degree. I wanted to be with Janie, but I wasn't sure how to say so after I had rejected her so harshly.

I emailed silkstockingslover to thank her for the great stories, especially 'Bedding the Babysitter' and we began an online friendship. I won't get into the many emails we shared, but I told her my predicament and asked for advice. Being the kind-hearted woman she was, she gave me advice and I decided to make a move.

But first I received my degree and started a new job working as a secretary and thus had to quit working at the coffee place, making it more challenging to follow silkstockingslover's suggestions.

Determined to show Janie how I felt, I decided to make my move.

I asked her to meet for supper and she said sure.

We met at The Southside Diner and once we ordered I said, "I need to tell you something."

I was incredibly nervous and my heart felt like it might beat out of my chest.

She could tell something was up as she asked, "Are you okay?"

I took a deep breath and blurted, "I'm sorry about my birthday. I have regretted it ever since. I don't know why I pushed you away, as I am pretty sure I am in love with you. I wish I could turn back time and redo that event. Can we, can we have a redo?"

As I looked into her eyes, I saw tears forming and before I could say anything else she excused herself and hurried to the washroom.

I watched her walk away, my heart sinking into my stomach as I realized I had probably just fucked up our friendship.

I decided I needed an answer and needed to apologize for putting her in such a situation. I walked into the washroom and saw her standing in front of the mirror wiping tears from her face. I asked, trying to be a friend and not a lover to be, "Is everything okay?"

She turned around, smiled, walked to me and pulled me into a hug before kissing me.

My whole body became jelly from her touch and I knew, without a doubt, all my insecurities and questions about my sexuality were answered, as this was the best feeling I had ever felt.

When she broke the kiss, I started babbling. "I'm such a noodle head for not embracing my feelings for you. I just couldn't understand my own feelings and was overwhelmed and confused."

"I love you," she interrupted my babbling. 

I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when I heard those words said to me. 

I stammered back, in utter awe of the situation, "I-I-I love you too."

After another kiss, the washroom door opened and we made our way back to the table. We finished eating in silence, both our heads spinning with our new revelation.

Once dinner was done, I went to pay and when I returned we headed to the parking lot, each of us having brought our own cars. She said, as we stood in front of my car, "I have to go home, I only have a babysitter until nine, but we need to continue this conversation."

"I couldn't agree more," I nodded, wanting to feel her lips on mine again. 

She leaned forward and kissed me. To my surprise, this time there was a very unique taste on her lips. When she broke the kiss, she smiled, "Just a slight sampling until we can be more intimate."

I looked at her confused, not really understanding what she was saying. 

She smiled, "You really are an innocent lesbian virgin, aren't you?"

"But I'm a quick learner," I retorted.

"An eager beaver?" She questioned, raising her eyebrow.

"The eagerest," I replied, not even sure that was a word.

"Do you know why I always wear skirts?" She asked.

"To showcase your amazing legs," I answered.

"Well, that too, obviously," she nodded, before glancing around before moving her hand under her skirt.

I watched in awe as she apparently fingered herself.

Pulling her finger back out, she moved it to my lips. I automatically opened them, now realizing what I had tasted on her lips as she explained, "For easy access to my pussy."

I actually moaned on her finger from the naughty implication, the sample taste adding another piece of evidence that I was definitely a lesbian. I sucked on her finger like it was a cock until she pulled out and nodded, "Oh, I think you will be a very eager beaver."

My face went beet red at how eager I was to please. I wanted to kiss her again, I wanted to suck on her breasts and now I wanted to taste her sweet nectar directly from the source. 

"Soon, Holly, very, very soon," Janie promised, before kissing me again and leaving me standing there, my panties soaked.

A few agonizing days later, our work schedules just not matching up, we ended up at the movies to see Lucy, although truth be told I have no idea what happened in most of the movie. 

We went to a night showing at 9:45 so there were only a few people in the theater with us. We sat in the back and for the trailers we seemed to be playing a game of teasing chess: our hands would brush against each other getting popcorn; I would glance at her slyly, I sensed her glancing at me; we grabbed for the coke we decided to share at the same time. 

Once the movie started though, my desire to show her my interest, to hold her hand, took control and I took the risk of putting my hand on her nylon-clad leg.

She whispered, "About time," and grabbed my hand and moved it to her thigh where her stocking ended. She continued, "Thigh highs make for better access, too."

"So I see," I whispered back, giddy with excitement, no longer watching the movie as I imagined creating my own.

She continued moving my hand until it reached her rather damp panties. She whispered, "She how wet you've already made me."

I couldn't believe I was touching her pussy through her panties.

She offered, "Go ahead, Holly."

I briefly wondered if she meant for me to drop to my knees and move between her legs. Part of me wanted to, but the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position held me back from my carnal desires. Instead, I moved my finger inside her panties and began to tease her clit.

"God, yes," she moaned, which excited me. I continued exploring her pussy, wishing I could see what I was doing or could see clearly the look on her face. Yet, her whispered words were all the encouragement I needed. "That's it, Holly, slide a finger inside me, please, baby."

I needed no more encouragement. I quickly obliged her suggestion, sliding one finger deep inside her wetness. I finger-fucked her slowly, in awe of what I was doing to the woman I loved, in a movie theatre.

After a couple of minutes, she moaned, "Pull down your jeans, baby, I want to do you too."

My pussy on fire, I reluctantly pulled my finger out of her pussy and quickly unbuttoned my jeans and awkwardly tugged them down.

She whispered, "You should have worn a skirt, baby."

"I'll never make that mistake againnnnnnn," I replied, as her hand went directly to my panty-covered pussy.

As her hand moved underneath my soiled panties, she asked, "Did I get your panties this wet?"

"Always," I moaned and twitched, as her finger made direct contact with my swollen clit.

As she moved her finger up and down between my pussy lips, she suggested, "Let's finger fuck each other, baby."

"Kkkkkkkkk," I trembled, as her finger slipped slyly inside my heated pussy.

I awkwardly moved my hand back between her legs and slid my finger back in and we started a lengthy journey of teasing each other as the movie played. She returned her gaze to the movie and I did the same. My eyes watched the movie, yet my brain processed nothing. All I could think about was her finger in my pussy and my finger in hers. I wanted to make her come, I wanted her to make me come, yet I replicated her pacing...which was slow...teasing...mind numbingly teasing.

 The pleasure was intense, constant, but just enough to create a lustful desire for eruption. Suddenly, Janie whispered, "I need to go to the washroom."

Before I could respond, she was gone. I sat there for about five minutes wondering if she simply had to go pee or if I had done something wrong. Being in a new type of relationship, especially one where I still didn't completely trust my own feelings, was confusing at times. Yet, in the heat of the moment, it had felt completely natural: touching her and being touched by her.

My own insecurities were running rampant when Janie returned, leaned in and whispered, "Sorry, but your fingers were driving me mad, I had to go and finish myself off so I didn't scream I was coming in the middle of the theatre."

"Oh, God," I said, both turned on and relieved. "I thought I had done something wrong."

"God, no, you did everything so fucking right," she purred, tugging on my ear with her lips. 

My body quivered, my ear being one of my erogenous triggers. 

"I also got you a little present," she whispered, her tongue teasing my ear.

"What?" I asked, barely able to speak even one word.

"Open your hand," she ordered.

I mindlessly obeyed, knowing I would do anything she asked me. 

As she tugged on my ear, I felt something wet in my hand. She whispered, "This is how wet you made me, baby."

After one more tug, she moved back to her chair. I was holding her soiled panties in my hand. I instantly felt a gush in my own panties and stammered, standing up as I urgently tugged up my jeans, "I-I-I have to go."

I scurried out and went directly to the washroom. As soon as I got in the stall, I tugged my jeans down and began frantically rubbing myself. Getting close, I pulled her wet panties out of my jean pocket and put them to my nose, wanting to smell her scent. That was all it took and my orgasm rushed out of me as I screamed, "Fuuuuuuck," not caring if anyone else was in the washroom.




Falling in Love with my Best Friend



Once my orgasm was completed, I pulled my jeans off, took off my excessively wet panties, put on her equally wet panties, and returned to the movie. 

Sitting back down beside her, I whispered in her ear, "God, you drive me wild."

She winked, "Oh, I haven't even began to drive you wild."

I put my panties in her hand and added, "My gift to you."

She took them and brought them to her nose, "Mmmmmmmmm," before she moved her mouth to the wet crotch and sucked on them. Instantly I wondered why I hadn't thought of that. She whispered, a moment later, "I'm looking forward to tasting you directly from the source next time."

She leaned in and we started kissing like teenagers. Our tongues exploring every crevice of the other's mouth, no longer caring if anyone saw. 

We didn't even notice the movie end, but the lights started coming back on and we realized that the theatre was empty, which meant every person had walked right past us making out.

Janie quipped, "At least I wasn't buried between your legs."

My face went beet red at the image. Feeling sexy and a little risqué I joked, "But you should be."

She winked, as she grabbed my hand, "All in good time, baby."

We walked out together hand in hand, two lesbians in love. I didn't care if anyone gave us looks, although I didn't notice anyone judging us. 

She dropped me off, my pussy still on fire, and she smiled sweetly, "Holly, I really enjoyed our evening."

"Me too," I nodded.

"I did mean everything I said, Holly," she smiled tenderly, "I do love you."

"And I love you, too," I concurred, looking into her eyes.

She leaned in and kissed me again. Breaking the kiss (she always broke the kiss), she finished, "I'm really looking forward to some more intimate time together with you."

"Me too," I nodded, feeling like a teenager again, already wondering when the next time was going to be.

A couple of days later, I received a text from Janie:

Be at my place at 7. 

I texted back I'd be there and after work I changed into something sexier, a skirt, blouse and thigh high stockings I had purchased the day after the theatre incident. I also grabbed a box of strawberries, an idea from a porn video I'd watched a couple of weeks earlier popping into my head.

I got to her house ten minutes before seven and Janie opened the door before I could even knock, startling me. She greeted me, dressed in a robe, "You really are an eager beaver."

I countered, "You opened the door before I even knocked, so who's the eager beaver?"

"Touché," she shrugged, before adding with a sexy, sly smile, "fine, we are both eager to see beaver."

As usual, my face burned red instantly at the sexual innuendo, even though she couldn't have been more accurate.

Looking at the strawberries in my hand, she suggested, "Go put them in the fridge sweetheart, I was just getting ready."

I did as instructed and waited in the living room, again giddy with anticipation of the moment I had been fantasizing about for a while...in vivid detail the past two nights, although unsure if we were going out somewhere...I hoped not. I wanted to make love to her entire body; I wanted to taste her pussy; I wanted to be her everything.

Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours until Janie called out, "Holly, can you come and help me with something in my bedroom."

The line sounded like something out of a bad porn movie, but I was hoping this was the invitation I imagined it was. I walked to her room, and after a brief pause outside the door, walked in and gasped. Sitting on the edge of the bed, in a tight blouse, black leather skirt, red thigh high stockings and black five inch heels, was Janie.

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the beautiful woman I was in love with. My head flashed back to the disaster that was the first time I saw her in her bedroom like this, deciding this time the ending would be completely different...I was writing my own happy ending.

"Come here," Janie instructed softly, as she slightly opened her legs.

I walked to her, my mind in a haze of lust.

Reaching her, she grabbed me and pulled me in for a kiss...a kiss that lasted forever, as we again got lost in the intimacy of the kiss. Our tongues danced, our hands roamed and our breathing increased until Janie ordered, "On your knees, baby."

I didn't hesitate. I had read a ton of stories on Literotica and although we hadn't labelled this, Janie was undoubtedly in charge and I was the submissive. I was babysitter Jenny and she the sweet Mistress Megan, as my own 'Bedding the Babysitter' story happened live.

She crossed her left leg over her right and ordered, "Take off my heel, sweetheart."

My hand trembled slightly, as I moved and took off her heel.

She slowly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, a scene directly out of 'Basic Instinct', giving me just a glimpse between her legs.

I watched the whole scene in slow motion as my mouth began to water at the inevitable conclusion to a long journey of self-discovery. I took off the other heel and then instinctively moved and put her nylon-clad toes in my mouth.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, "that feels nice."

I took my time, pleasuring each toe individually, wanting to make love to her entire body. I splattered the top of her foot, her ankle and back down to her sole with kisses. Once done, she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs so I could replicate the attention on her other foot.

Once done, I began moving up her legs, continuing the focused concentration until she ordered, "Baby, come and undress me."

I stood up, looking her directly in the eye as I began unbuttoning her blouse. Once it was all undone, I leaned in and began kissing her chest, above her breasts, as I slowly took the blouse off. She shivered a bit at my touch, but moaned, "Oh yes, Holly, that feels so goooooood."

I splattered her shoulders and arms with kisses, before taking each finger in my mouth and swirling my tongue around them like they were thin cocks. 

She suddenly stood up and I unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Looking down, I saw she was wearing my panties.

"Do you like my panties, Holly?" She asked demurely.

"They look a lot better on you," I quipped back.

"They'll look a lot better on the floor, actually," she countered, before adding, "but first, why don't you get out of your clothes too?"

Feeling sultry and sexy, I unbuttoned my blouse and once it was off I tossed it at her. Then I pulled down my skirt and she commented, "Thigh high stockings, a very good choice."

"I wanted to make sure you had easy access," I smiled, as I slowly slid my panties down my legs.

"And the bra, too," she ordered.

I obeyed, now standing only in thigh high stockings. I asked, "The stockings?"

"Leave them on," she ordered, as she unclasped her bra and tossed it to me.

I don't know why, but I put the bra to my nose and smelt it. Of course, the only real scent was a faint lingering perfume. 

"Come get your panties," she purred.

I went to her and slowly pulled her (my?) panties down her legs, the whole time staring at her completely shaved, slightly glistening pussy. 

She said, "That wetness is because of you, honey."

"Mine is equally wet," I admitted, as she pulled me up and pushed my head to her breasts. I licked and sucked on her nipples, going back and forth giving each equal attention while cupping them in my hands. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart, go lower," she purred.

Again I just kept obeying her suggestions, this time slithering my tongue between her breasts, swirling around her belly button and then reaching her pink wetness. I stared at it briefly, wanting to burn the image of her perfect pink pussy in my mind forever before I leaned forward, extended my tongue and finally got to taste Janie. The taste was completely unexplainable: sweet, yet tart, and yet the moment the taste hit me I knew I was addicted. Having read lots of lesbian stores (I highly recommend Suburban Submission by Dave933 or Soccer Mom by Couture) and having watched lots of lesbian porn (I highly suggest Hot and Mean from Brazzers), I thought I knew what I was doing...yet as I licked I immediately understood that only from real experience and not literature or videos was I ever going to know how to pleasure a woman. Instead, I explored. I licked between her pussy lips, I swirled my tongue around her clit and I awkwardly plunged my tongue in her pussy hole. Her moans implied I was giving her pleasure and when she grabbed my head and held me tight into her pussy I knew she was close. I sucked her clit between my lips while simultaneously flicking it with my tongue and soon I was rewarded with her full flood of pussy juice. It flowed out of her and into me as if she was giving me a gift, and in reality she was.

I continued lapping up her pussy juices until she let go of my head. She complimented, "I think you're a natural."

"It felt natural," I replied, as I felt her wetness all over my face which somehow turned me on even more.

"I think it's time to take you to heaven," she said, standing up.

"I'm already there, worshipping my goddess," I countered, sounding corny, I knew.

"You really are an eager beaver," she smirked, as she went to her dresser drawer.

"I've always been eager to please," I replied, which was true whether it be in the bedroom or just in life.

"Lie down on the bed, it's time to be rewarded for your desire to please," she said, as she pulled out a white vibrator.

I quickly got on the bed, realizing my knees were kind of sore, and lay down ready to be pleasured by my beautiful girlfriend. Was she my girlfriend? God, I hoped so. 

Joining me on the bed, she turned it on and moved it to my breasts, something that had never occurred to me to do to myself in my many hours of self-pleasure. She teased me relentlessly, moving the vibrating toy around my nipples, between my breasts and then directly on my nipples. 

It was driving me nuts, my pussy on fire and wanting that toy inside me. She asked, "Do you want me to fuck you, baby?"

"God, yes," I replied, thankful she could read my mind.

"Beg, sexy," she purred, as she flicked my nipple with her tongue.

"Oh, please, Janie, fuck me, fuck me now," I pleaded, never really good at dirty talk.

"I think we'll have to work on your dirty talk," she smiled and gave me a wink, as she moved the vibrator between my legs, which I instinctively opened wide.

She moved it up and down between my pussy lips, continuing to tease me relentlessly, before sliding it deep inside me. 

"Yessssssss," I screamed and trembled, my orgasm rising in seconds.

"You look so hot, Holly," she whispered, as I watched her lean down and begin licking my pussy while she fucked me.

"I lovvvvve you," I declared, for the world to hear it was so loud, as my orgasm got closer and closer.

She pumped my pussy with the toy, while simultaneously sucking on my clit and in less than a minute, which made me feel like a man, I came hard. "Shiiit, I'm sorrrrrrrry."

She laughed as she continued the double pleasure and licked up my pussy juice.

The vibrator still in me, she straddled me and said, "I hope you can have multiple orgasms, because this night has just started."

I moaned, as she continued licking me, "I'm the energizer bunnnnnny," before I leaned up and licked her pussy again. Twenty minutes later, both of us reached second orgasms before she rolled off me, moved on top of me and kissed me...both of us tasting our own pussy juices.

Breaking the kiss, she declared, staring into my eyes, "I love you, Holly."

"I love you too, Janie," I replied back, knowing I would I do anything for this woman.

That night, I also met her strap-on cock and ate pussy in her shower.

Two months later, I moved in with her and last weekend she met my parents as I came out to them. I'm not sure my father approved at first (actually, I know he didn't), but Janie, was just Janie, and by the end of the weekend she had both my parents in love with her.

Today is our three month anniversary since we declared our love for each other in a bathroom and I can't imagine being with anyone else.

Love...it comes when you least expect it.

P.S.: Of course, the morning after our first night together I had breakfast in bed...literally, when I ate strawberries out of Janie's pussy...a tradition we have continued every weekend since.

The end



Falling in Love with Savannah



Falling in Love with Savannah: My First Sexting Experience 

My life changed forever about three months ago when I started having sex again. At that time, it had been about four months since I last fucked someone. It's not that I'm ugly – I actually sort of look like the main guy in Mad Men (I'm not a huge fan of the show, but I've heard people compare me to its star). My social skills aren't that great, but I at least know how to talk to someone if they initiate the conversation – especially if that "someone" has breasts, a sense of humor, and a warm smile. 

Of course, it's probably important that I explain why I haven't had sex in so long: I'm married. Happily married I suppose, just without sex. We've been married for about ten years now and our sex life rapidly declined after the birth of our first child. Well, to be honest, it wasn't that great before that either. When we did have sex – maybe every week or two – it was usually missionary style and we generally both finished within ten minutes or so (not really because of my "speed" but due to the fact that we would rather be doing something else; you know, something productive, like watching TV or staring at the wall). 

We never did anything wild sexually. My wife stopped talking whenever I started to discuss any sort of "wild" sexual activity (i.e. blowjob in the car, or sex in public, or even reverse cowgirl position for that matter). But the sad part, I suppose, is that I wanted to do these things. Not because I'm a pervert (though I guess you could say I am depending on your definition of it), but because I wanted to become more intimate with my partner, especially my wife. I always wanted to be with someone who would share my beliefs and would want to partake in sexual exploration. I suppose I could have just married someone else or at least have continued my search for "the one", but having a kid sort of changes all of that. 

So, I guess that should provide you with enough of my background in order to understand my experiences over the past few months. Maybe I'll share more of my history in future writings so you can get to know me better. 

Ok. Let's get to the fun stuff. 

About three months ago, I started a new job at a department store. I'm what they call a "sales representative associate," which is basically a glorified title for a sales job. I sell electronics; things like IPads, PCs, PS4s, etc. I work for a big electronic corporation, but it's not really important to share the specific one due to what happened over the past three months (let's just say it rhymes with rest guy). But let's keep that on the hush. I don't want to get fired nor do I want to get anyone in trouble. I especially don't want my wife to find out (unless of course it helps us have sex more often, but it probably would end with divorce papers instead). I don't make a lot of money, but I tend to work pretty hard. My supervisor enjoys my work, mostly because I have a large volume of sales (likely due to my tendency to actually listen to customers and respond with honest feedback). 

So yeah, back to three months ago. For about the first week or so at my new job nothing significant happened. I showed up, I learned about new products, and I sold them. It was that simple. But at about two weeks into the job, a new employee started. I guess I'll call her Savannah (I traveled to Savannah, Georgia, a few years ago and loved the beautiful environment). Savannah worked in the same department, moving from the computer section to the video game section and back again. 

Savannah just turned 19 and looked amazing. She had blonde hair that dropped down to her shoulders. Slightly tanned, she had green eyes and small pink lips. Her breasts weren't as large as my wife's but they were perky enough to please the casual observer. Even more important than Savannah's physical prowess, was her personality. She was funny AND smart. She was just a positive person to be around. She rarely complained about others, unless it was about her boyfriend. While she wasn't "the one," Savannah definitely made me happy to come to work. Every time we worked together, I thanked every god I could think of. The fact that she sometimes complained about her boyfriend actually brought us closer together. We had something in common: a failed (or failing) relationship. In between talking about our significant others, we also talked about video games and movies (other things I love), which helped bring us together even more. 

Of course, whenever we worked together we would flirt. Mostly just clever and witty comments. Nothing physical occurred between us, at least not initially, except for a hug or handshake every now and then. But things started to change a bit after Savannah caught her boyfriend cheating on her. She didn't actually see anything physical between them; she just noticed a text messaging conversation between him and a "friend" when Savannah was trying to listen to Pandora on his phone. 

When she found out, she spent a whole night at work describing the sexual messages, which included a few pictures of her boyfriend's penis and the friend's breasts. Savannah showed me the pictures (she had sent them to her phone) openly at work (she didn't care much about being caught that night – she was that pissed). It was the first time I ever saw a picture of a penis on a cell phone. It was just standing there; like a tower or curvy vegetable so some kind. It wasn't just any penis either; it was quite large (at least compared to mine). The breast's of the friend weren't so bad, but nothing special. In fact, I was sort of shocked a guy like Savannah's boyfriend – with a large penis and a nice six pack – would cheat on her with someone not nearly as attractive. 

That night at work, we talked about cheating and our relationships. Neither of us had cheated before – she was sincerely surprised I hadn't during my ten year marriage. After the store closed, I walked Savannah to her car, like I did most nights, and we exchanged hugs. She added a quick peck on the cheek (not like most nights) and I told her everything was going to be ok. We then both went home back to our failing relationships.

The next day, Savannah seemed a bit more cheerful. As if she was beginning a new chapter in her life. Surprisingly, she didn't break up with her boyfriend. Nor did she even tell him about finding the messages and pictures. We had another shift together (we worked together usually about 3-4 times a week together) and she seemed happier, more alive, than ever before. 

When the store closed and our shifts ended, I walked Savannah to her car. We hugged, a bit longer than the previous night, and, as I pulled back, she kept her body close to me. Her green eyes seemed soft yet focused. Our bodies weren't touching, but I could feel her warm body hovering against mine. Suddenly, of nowhere, Savannah's lips approached mine. Her warm pink lips touched mine. I immediately pulled back. She responded by pulling my body closer to hers (I didn't really resist in any meaningful way) and her moist tongue entered my mouth. Our tongues briefly wrapped together motioning clockwise for what felt like forever. For some reason or another, an image of my wife flashed in my head. I instantly pushed Savannah away and told her I couldn't. I sternly reminded her I was married and quickly walked away. I looked back and noticed her crying. Tears were beginning to streak down her face. I didn't know what to do under these circumstances. So, I just went home. 

During the drive home, I kept thinking about Savannah and our kiss. I couldn't believe she actually did that. Kissed me in public? That's crazy. I mean, I'm married. She has or had a boyfriend. And we are in public. What if someone saw us? What if they told my wife? I was in complete and utter awe. But, at the same time, I was horny as shit. I mean, Savannah actually kissed me. Not just a peck on the cheek like the previous night, but with tongue. And, more importantly, I kissed her. I didn't try to stop it. I actually fiddled my tongue in her mouth. Her juices entwined with mine. We swapped spit. We kissed. Damn. There is no way I can keep this from my wife. I'll have to tell her. I can't just keep it a secret. But she'll probably respond my yelling at me and telling me I should have stopped her. My wife will likely tell me to quit or transfer to a different location. Hell, she might even leave me and take away my kid. So, like any intelligent individual, I promised myself that I would keep it all secret; to never share it with a soul (though I am sort of breaking that promise by sharing my story with you). 

I arrived home at the normal time and did everything as I would any other night (or at least I tried). But it wasn't easy. I worried constantly that my wife would ask just one question that would throw me off. But, she didn't. Instead, she went to bed early as normal and I sat on the couch and watched TV. I couldn't really focus on what I was watching. Rather, I kept thinking about Savannah and her soft skin against my lips. I kept thinking about how I responded, what I should have done instead. I even thought about what I could have done. My penis began to move slowly in my shorts. I could feel it expanding as I continued to think about Savannah and her tongue inside my mouth. It reached its peak length trying to find a way out of my shorts. 

I had to jack off. There was no way I could just go to bed now. So, I turned the TV off and went to my room (yeah, I have my own room; my wife and I have had separate rooms for about seven or so years now). Before entering my room, I grabbed enough toilet paper to use for my nightly fantasy.

I took off my shirt and shorts and laid down in my bed. My dick was still hard, so I removed my boxers as well. My penis stood straight up, in joyful relief as it was no longer contained in a tight place. I closed my eyes and tried to experience the events that transpired just a few hours prior. I thought about Savannah: her green eyes, her smooth blonde hair, her perfect smile. Me, holding her tightly; her warm body next to mine. I placed my hand around my cock, slowly touching it, moving it up and down. 

I thought of our kiss. Savannah's tongue around mine. My spit mixing with hers. That was a crazy thought: a part of my body actually entered hers. A part of her body went into mine! My hand moved faster and I started to breath heavily. I was about to cum when my phone vibrated. I instantly froze, my heart slowed down, and I grabbed the phone. It was a text from Savannah. 

Savannah: Hey. 

Fuck me. What is she texting me for? Was she going to apologize? Again, my immediate thought was what my wife would say if she found the texts (even if innocent – at this point, I had never actually texted or called Savannah, but we did share our phone numbers just in case we were running late to work or something). I thought about not responding. But then I received another text.

Savannah: I'm sorry about tonight. 

She must feel bad. Maybe she didn't mean to kiss me. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she really felt guilty. After all, she was crying when I left. I started to feel ashamed for just leaving her there in tears, so I decided to text her back. 

Me: It's ok. I hope you are feeling better. 

She immediately responded. 

Savannah: I am. 

Savannah: I'm just sad. And confused. 

Savannah: Jeremy [her boyfriend] is such a jerk. 

I sincerely felt bad for her. She was going through a difficult time. 

Me: Yeah he is. 

Me: Did you guys really break up?

Savannah: No. I don't know what to do. 

Savannah: Should I?

Me: I dunno. 

Me: I probably would, but I'm not you. 

Me: But I hate to see you so sad. 

Savannah: That is why. 

I am sincerely confused at this point. 

Me: Why what?

Savannah: That is why u are so amazing. 

Savannah: U care more about other people than 

yourself. 

Savannah: Sooo not like Jeremy. 

If I was so amazing, why did I feel so bad talking to Savannah? I didn't know how to reply so I just sat in silence for a couple minutes. 

Savannah: What are u doing?

Um, I was about to cum thinking about you but then you texted me. Of course, I didn't text this to her, instead I tried to think about what I could or should say. 

Me: I was about to go to sleep. 

Savannah: This early?

I had no response to this question. I couldn't think of one damn thing. 

Savannah: Is your wife there?

What? Why ask me about this? 

Me: No. We actually sleep in different rooms. 

Savannah: What? Lol. 

Me: Yeah it's weird but it's cool too. 

Me: I don't have to wake up early when she wakes up. 

Me: Plus, she doesn't have to wake up when I go to bed late. 

Savannah: Oh. I guess that makes sense. 

What felt like a minute passed. 

Savannah: I think I like u.

Mmm...ok? What does that even mean?

Me: I like you too. 

Savannah: I mean really like u. 

Oh shit. I looked towards the door afraid my wife was about to break into the room and catch me in this conversation (btw I was still naked in bed, so it would be real difficult to explain everything). 

Me: I think you should talk to Jeremy. Tell him how you feel. 

Savannah: About u? ;0)

I actually lightly chuckled. 

Me: Of course not. Just about him cheating. 

Savannah: I'm done with him. 

Savannah: I don't need to tell him anything.

Me: I'm confused. Did you guys break up or what?

Savannah: I'm just done with him. 

I lifted my eyebrow extremely confused. 

About a minute passed without a text. Then suddenly the screen flashed and a picture appeared. It was a picture of Savannah, without a top on. Just her exposed and elegant breasts. Holy shit, this conversation just turned a whole other direction. How in the hell will I explain these texts to my wife? I suppose I could just delete them as soon as our conversation ends. 

I looked at the picture of beautiful Savannah again, with a new type of focus. Her breasts seemed so young. So perky and firm. Her nipples looked hard, like she had been playing with herself before sending it. Had she been playing with herself during our texts? Or before? My penis began to awake from its brief rest. It grew slowly, pushing against my leg. Within seconds it was standing fully erect at attention again. I decided to text her again. 

Me: What are you doing? 

Me: Isn't Jeremy there? 

Savannah: I kicked him out. 

Savannah: I didn't explain why. 

Me: But you guys are still together?

Savannah: Yeah.

Then I thought about a more appropriate comment. 

Me: I'm married. 

I looked at what I messaged but it just didn't 

feel true. It felt like a lie. 

Savannah: I know. 

Savannah: I won't tell anyone.

Damn. Now I was at what you might call an ever 

changing life decision. If I continue texting with Savannah, I could end my night highly satisfied. But what if I got caught? What if the truth later comes out? After all, Savannah found Jeremy's texts. My wife would similarly find these texts. Right?

Savannah: Just delete our conversation after. 

Savannah: She won't find out. 

Damn. It's like she read my mind. I spent the next few minutes thinking about what to do. Thinking about the possible ramifications of tonight and what was happening. Deep in thought, another picture suddenly appeared. This time it was a picture of Savannah's face, a selfie if you will. Her soft face was glancing at me. Her lips – those lips that touched mine a few hours ago – looked as if they were begging to be kissed once again. Her eyes looked as if she was gazing into mine. As if she really wanted me (this is a feeling I hadn't had in years – if ever really). Another text appeared. 

Savannah: If u want this to happen u have to send me a pic. 

Want what to happen? Oh, she must mean we are going to do what Jeremy and her friend did. At this point, I stopped thinking about my wife. The world seemed to stop in its rotation. The only sound I could hear was my heart beating faster and faster. I was going to play this game, I decided. 

I pulled the blanket off my lower area. My dick stood hard ready for its first picture. I pointed the phone at it and took a picture. The light flashed brightly. I didn't like the way it turned out so I did it again. And again. And again. It took a few tries until I felt like it was a picture I could send. I didn't think about it. I just pressed send. 

It seemed like forever when another text appeared.

Savannah: Hehe.

Savannah: Are u naked?

Me: I was. I am. 

Savannah: Was???

Me: I was planning to jack off before you texted me...

Savannah: LMFAO.

Savannah: What were you watching?

Me: Nothing. 

Me: I was thinking. 

Me: Thinking about you.

Savannah: That is so hot. 

Savannah: What were u thinking?

Me: I was thinking about tonight. Our kiss. 

Savannah: Did u like it?

Me: It was amazing. 

Me: You felt so perfect in my mouth. 

Savannah: It was perfect. 

Savannah: I've always liked u.

Savannah: But that kiss made me feel something 

inside I've never felt before.

Savannah: I felt warmth. I felt passion. 

Savannah: I felt wet. :0)

Me: lol.

Savannah: Really. After I finished crying, I noticed my panties were wet. 

Me: Damn. 

Savannah: That's never happened before. 

Savannah: I rarely get wet with Jeremy. Usually we have to use KY. 

Savannah: But I got wet from u.

Savannah: Once u left, I pleasured myself in my car.

Me: Really???

Savannah: I've never done that before either. 

Savannah: But it felt good. It felt amazing!

Me: That's why I was about to touch myself. 

Me: Our kiss and your body against mine was amazing!

A minute or two passed. 

Savannah: Do you want to cum tonight?

It took me no time to process this answer.

Me: Yes.

Savannah: Let me help you.

Another pictured appeared. This time it was a picture of her lips – not her mouth, but her lower pink lips. Her vagina area was shaven, as if she had just cleaned herself for me. Her fingers were spreading her pussy far and wide. I double tapped the screen, so I could see her vagina lips up close. It was wet, a dribble of wetness was sliding down her inner thigh. Her manicured fingernail exposed her insides. My outside manhood demanded a rub. My dick was harder than ever, so I wrapped my hand around it and rubbed it up and down. Not slowly, but quickly. I wanted to cum now. My sperm demanded release now! 

Savannah: I want u to cum. 

Me: It won't take me long :0)

I kept rubbing up and down on my exposed member as she texted me. 

Savannah: I want to fuck u. 

Savannah: I want to make love to u.

Savannah: I want to pleasure u like never before.

Savannah: I want u.

Savannah: To cum to my picture.

I brought the picture back up rubbing my dick even faster than before. Pre cum was beginning to run out of the slit at the head of my penis. The head was throbbing, wanting to erupt soon. 

Savannah: I'm cumming. 

Savannah: I want u to cum now. 

Savannah: Please cum with me. 

Savannah: Now baby.

Damn! This girl is wild! I brought the picture of Savannah's wet pussy lips back up. I moved my hand up and down on my penis. Faster and faster. Faster and faster. Until I exploded. My cum shot into the air, at least a few feet, landing on my stomach and on the bed. I forgot to grab the paper. I rubbed my dick slower as my jizz dribbled along my hand. Damn, that felt good. Holy fuck I can't believe that just happen. My heart began to slow down. My body began to calm down. My penis began to get limp. 

Savannah: Are u done?

I quickly grabbed the toilet paper and wiped up. 

I texted back.

Me: Yes. 

Me: That was amazing!

Savannah: It was for me too. 

Me: You came too?

Savannah: Twice. ;0)

Savannah: I'll text u again tomorrow night. 




Falling in Love with Savannah Pt. 02



This is the second story in the Falling in Love with Savannah series. Enjoy!

*****

I think I'm starting to fall in love with Savannah. I know it seems odd to say, especially since I'm married. But there is something about Savannah that just makes me feel like a better person (again, this seems odd since I'm sort of cheating on my wife, but it's true. FYI...I say sort of because it's not like we've done anything physical - at least not yet). 

Overall, I feel better about myself since that night. As a man. As a human. As a life in this thing we call earth. I feel like I'm living the life I always wanted. The life I always dreamt of. More importantly, I feel happy. Not because I got to jack off with Savannah via texting, but because I feel like I'm creating a new chapter in my life with someone I really care about - someone just like me. 

I tried to handle the day after our sexting experience as if it were any other day. I woke up with the kids, got them ready and dropped them off at school. The wife went to work before I woke up, so that helped me try to avoid any possible vocal slip ups with her. I cleaned the house a bit, watched a movie, and read a book. Well, I tried to watch a movie and read a book. But it was extremely difficult to focus. 

I kept thinking about Savannah and the previous night. At one point during the day, shortly before lunch, I actually touched myself again, thinking about the pictures Savannah sent the night before. As you would expect, prior to masturbating, I searched the internet for almost an hour trying to find a way to get the deleted images of Savannah back. I tried to get the pic of Savannah's perfectly shaped breasts, ready for me to lightly lick. Or the pic of her beautiful smile, her perfect face, those green eyes. Damn those green eyes. The way they innocently looked at me, but with the naughtiest inner purpose.

It's sad, I suppose, of the words I am writing now. Why, after all, do I not write these things about my wife's face? Do I no longer see her as beautiful? Is it because we don't have sex? Is that because she had our two wonderful children? It can't be because of the kids; after all, we didn't have much of a life sex before them. I don't know, and I don't really care. Not now. Not with Savannah in my life. 

After masturbating, I thought about contacting Savannah. Either by text, voice, or even in real life. I didn't really care how, I just wanted to be with her. For example, I dreamt about running away with her. Possibly renting a hotel on the beach. Spending a night on the balcony, with her in my lap as I sat on a chair. Running my fingers along her cheek, whispering those three wonderful words. Savannah softly nuzzling her face into my neck, lightly kissing it every few moments. 

Of course, I masturbated again. Maybe I have a problem? I began to worry a bit. Do I masturbate too much? Is this normal? Well, of course, cheating isn't normal, but falling in love is. Right? It's not like I had sex with her. Or got her pregnant. Or fucked her at our house (damn, that kind of turns me on). Maybe I am in the wrong here...but I choose to listen to what the dick wants instead.

After masturbating a third time (yeah, I know it seems a lot, but it was in the course of about 2 hours), I ran about four miles and finished a set of 50 or so lunges. I took a shower, cleaned up, and decided to pick up the kids. The rest of the day pretty much went on as any normal day. No more masturbating for me that evening. I think three was my limit that day (though I didn't stop thinking about Savannah). 

I went to work the next day, no new thoughts were running through my mind as Savannah had the day off. But every now and then I would glance around to see if maybe she would just magically appear. At one point I wished that another co-worker would get sick or fall of a cliff or maybe die in a horrible traffic accident so that Savannah would get called in. The gods weren't on my side, however, which, I suppose, is a good thing. But before I left, I checked the new schedule for the next week. A ray from the clouds above seemed to shine on the paper I was holding. Savannah and I had three shifts together during the next week. Tomorrow would be the first time I would see her since the night we kissed. I felt like a giddy school child, the same feeling I had when I wrote a love poem to Theresa in Sixth Grade (though, unfortunately, she didn't feel the same way about me). 

When I went to bed that evening, it took me hours to fall asleep. I tried everything: I counted sheep, I watched a boring Adam Sandler movie (I suppose you could just assume I watched any one of his movies), and I tried reading the original Count of Monte Cristo on my Kindle (hey, it was free). Nothing worked. I couldn't stop thinking about seeing Savannah at work when I woke up. What would happen? Would she pretend I didn't exist? Would she feel guilty because I'm married and completely shut down? Or, hopefully, would we embrace one another? Admit we love each other and hug, kiss, move in together? My mind didn't make any sense after a few hours and I finally fell asleep. 

The next day, I woke up prepared to make it the best day that I could. The wife watched the kids while I got ready for work and, after giving a quick goodbye wave to the wife (she wasn't a fan of hugs or kisses) and a kiss or two to the kids, I went to what seemed to be my second life at work. 

When I show up at work, I immediately notice Savannah standing in the computer section. She is talking to a customer, selling what looks like the newest iMac. Her hands are moving all over the place and her face - as radiant as ever - shines with a permanent glow as she explains the computer's specifications. I can't hear her from so far away, but I know the full routine and I stand silently watching her lips move apart and come together. I think about putting my tongue back in her mouth. Our spit swapping from mouth to mouth as our tongues dance in circles. Suddenly, a hand taps me on my shoulder. It's my supervisor; I guess I was in some sort of daze.

I put my things in my locker and go to work. I help a kid find the newest Skylander game and help an older woman find Grand Theft Auto 5 for her 8 year old (I listen to her go on and on about how kids are so horrible these days, playing violent games like these. I wanted to tell her to just not buy the game, but didn't want her to angry at me thinking I was calling her stupid - which I would be by the way). 

A few moments later, Savannah walked up to me. She startled me when she came up to me and gave me a hug. I didn't know what that meant. I mean, are we together? Or was it just a fling? What was this thing between us? She seemed to read my mind this time, standing in her white capris and her blue work shirt, she put her pinky finger up to her lips as if she was a naughty girl. I smiled and did the same thing. She laughed, a real laugh out loud sort of laugh. I said hi. She said hi. We both stood there like two grade school kids falling in love for the first time. My supervisor interrupted us and asked me to help him move some of the new PS4s down to the display level. As we turned away, Savannah kissed the air while looking intently at me. I, once again, smiled in return. 

The rest of the day was pretty busy so we didn't talk much. A new game just came out and everyone had to have it. But, like what usually happens, the ten copies we had sold out right away. So, I spent most of my time looking on the computer seeing if other stores had it (which, by the way, one can look up from his or her home). I was talking to a customer when Savannah's shift ended. I noticed Savannah try to say by to me - her hand high in the air waiving as she jumped up and down. I laughed and the customer asked me what was so funny. Answering that question was very awkward.

I drove home, went through the nightly routine, and when night approached, laid down and read a book (in my own room, my wife and I have been sleeping in separate rooms for several years now). But, similar to the previous day, I couldn't stop thinking about Savannah. Just to let you know (and remind you), my whole fascination with her wasn't purely sexual - really, I mean it. After all, this is the girl I have working with for almost 3 months and whom I had lunch with every time we worked together. We would talk about computers, movies, and video games (all three subjects my wife had absolutely no knowledge or interest about - she barely could even fake interest when we tried to talk about those topics). 

But with Savannah, we seemed to have an intra personal connection. We both seemed to know what the other was thinking without even saying it. A few times we laughed because we knew exactly what sarcastic response the other would have. This is the same girl who talked to me for thirty minutes after work a few weeks ago about what would happen if a zombie invasion really did happen. Would we become infected? Or would we survive? Due to her ability to talk herself out of any situation - and due to her beautiful looks - I absolutely knew she would survive (though what zombie wouldn't want to take a bite out of her sexy little body?) We both actually worried more about the human response to such an invasion rather than the zombies themselves. I was in deep like, maybe even love, with Savannah, within moments of first speaking with her. My god, she even had a Ron Paul sticker on her car! 

I was about to shut my eyes and go to sleep when I received a text. 

Savannah: :0P

After noticing the bright light of my phone, I immediately picked it up and responded.

Me: :0O

Savannah: lol. 

About half a minute passed. 

Savannah: Are u touching yourself again?

Damn. Just come right out and say it. What if my wife had been around?

Me: Not yet... 

Me: :0) 

Yeah, I just took it to the next level. I guess any morality issues are gone at this point.

Savannah: lol. 

Savannah: I was about to. 

Savannah: I think I need help. 

Me: What can I do?

Savannah: Tell me why u like me. 

Me: Ok.

I took a few seconds to conjure up a few important reasons. 

Me: You're funny.

Me: Smart. 

Me: Helpful. 

Me: Understanding. 

Me: Patient. 

Me: Kind. 

Me: Respectful. 

Savannah: What about sexy? 

I smiled. 

Me: Just a little bit. 

Me: jk.

Savannah: lol

See, my wife here would have gotten upset and defensive. But, Savannah, she had fun with it. I suppose I should add that as an additional reason. 

Savannah: What else?

Me: A great kisser!

Savannah: It helps when the person I kiss is just as good. 

Me: It was amazing wasn't it?

Savannah: Best ever.

A few seconds passed and a pic appeared on the phone's screen. It was a close-up pic of Savannah's mouth. I could see her lips pressed together, but her tongue seemed like it wanted release. I could see the tip of her tongue slightly protruding from her moist lips. It was so sexy. Savannah was so sexy. I thought about kissing the phone but then thought that is something a pervert would do, so I decided against it. 

Savannah: Where is my kiss?

Savannah: U know how this works...

I took a quick picture of my lips. Trying to make it sexy but failing miserably. I sent it anyway; 

I mean, she is right, isn't she?

Savannah: lol. 

Savannah: So cute. 

Savannah: I want more!!

I sent another pic, this time with my tongue out. I looked silly, but what the hell, she said I was cute. I'll take that over nothing at all any day. 

Savannah: I want a real kiss from u. 

Me: I can't leave. Lol. 

Savannah: U have FaceTime right?

Me: Um, what is that?

Savannah: Oh, you are married! 

Me: Lol. 

A few seconds passed and a call or something appeared on my phone. I answered it and immediately noticed Savannah's angelic face. Her sexy green eyes, and those supple lips. How I longed for her tongue in my mouth! 

Savannah: Hey. 

The speaker's volume was all the way up so her voice was amplified in the quiet night. Shit! I quickly turned the volume down, and put the phone down under the covers. I waited about a minute and listened for any steps of children or of my wife. I heard nothing except for my heartbeat pumping violently under the covers. I whispered to Savannah, reminding her that I'm home. She smiled, laughing the whole incident off. She told me to put headphones on, that I would want to hear her voice. 

I smiled, imagining the endless potentials of what could happen. I grabbed my headphones and plugged them in. I whispered softly, telling her that I couldn't talk or I would wake my family up. She told me I wouldn't have to talk, that she would do all the talking for me. 

The camera moved and a black screen appeared. It sounded as if she was taking her clothes off. My theory proved right when the screen showed her small but perky breasts. They seemed to curve upwards, her nipples stood up as if they were excited to see me. 

My penis responded by jerking up a bit. Slanting up the right side of my leg, my dick began to enlarge, stretching the fabric of my boxers. I looked towards the door, worried that someone would enter the room. After a few seconds, I removed my boxers and threw them on the floor. No, keep those close by hunny, she said, you will need them very soon. I moved over, reaching down to pick my boxers from off the floor. My cock was as its apex, and it jammed hard into the bed as I stretched downwards. I put the boxers on the nightstand, close by as Savannah demanded. 

The camera was still aimed towards her breasts. I wanted to flick them so bad. As always, she read my mind and told me to imagine kissing her breasts. Kissing her hard nipples. Lightly moving my tongue up and down, left and right. Flicking the tip of her exposed breasts up and down, left and right. Just like I did when my tongue was in her mouth. My dick was so hard at this point. I felt pre-cum on my shaft when I reached towards it. I began to rub my penis up and down when Savannah told me not yet. That it would be my turn soon. She said it was her turn first. 

I saw her hand move towards her right nipple. The tip of her pointer finger gracefully circled her nipple. Her breaths became deeper, heavier. Every now and then a soft moan would erupt from between her lips. It was a high pitch, soft but sexy as can be. 

At this point, my dick was hurting. It pained to be touched. I slowly reached down to grab it, when her face appeared on the camera. I told you not yet, she said with a stern look with her two slightly wet fingers moving side by side. She looked mean, yet peaceful at the same time. She looked as if she wanted to help me become satisfied, but just wanted me to wait a few more minutes. I sighed, but then became excited as the camera moved down to her vagina. She pulled the white bed cover off her sexy semi-tanned body and she seemed to lean the camera on something (maybe a pillow) with it pointing towards her warm pussy. 

In the background I could see her low tummy, soft hill-like breasts, and gorgeous smile. Her tongue was moving in and out of her mouth, licking her lips, as she moaned quietly. Her manicured fingers lightly touched her clitoris. Two fingers moved in circles, slowly at first but then picking up pace. Her breaths became deeper and heavier. Her moans louder and sexier. I felt my pre cum hit my pelvic area. My dick was ready to be pleased. Like a prisoner, it was begging to be released. 

As if she knew, she said almost baby as she moved her fingers faster and faster. Her moans got louder and louder. She began to scream so loud, I had to turn the volume down. Now, she said, cum with me. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my cock with my right hand while holding the phone in my left. I looked at her pussy as I moved my hand up and down. I began to move my hand up and down as quickly as Savannah was moving her fingers on her clitoris. She began to scream like she was getting fucked by some guy with a 12 inch cock. Now, baby cum with me, she exclaimed just as I exploded on my sheets. Her breathing seemed to slow down, her fingers moving from her clit to her vagina. Three of her fingers entered inside her pussy as my cum continued to trickle down my right hand. 

I shook my head, thinking that I was dumb for not using my boxers. She noticed and said it would be alright. Let's just live in the moment, she said, let's pretend we are together holding each other. It was a perfect answer to a perfect night. She gave me a kiss on the screen and I kissed her in return. It was my first virtual kiss. A moment I would never forget.



Falling in Love with Savannah



Me: Really?

Savannah: Oh yeah.

Savannah: Every night. 

Savannah: Good night.

Me: Good night. 

I placed the phone on the nightstand and looked up to the ceiling with a huge grin. 

Savannah: Make sure you delete this. :0)

Oh shit. I almost forgot. 

Me: Thanks! 

I deleted the string of message. But not before I spent a few more minutes looking again at Savannah's pics. 



Falling in the Rain



October 1991

The collision was momentous. As the dark Ford pick up truck swerved into the opposite lane of traffic, the driver of the car in the opposite lane stepped frantically at her break petal, desperately trying to get out of the way of the on coming truck. 

It was no use. The truck hit the small sedan head on. The sound of metal screeching against metal, of metal twisting on asphalt rang in the dense silence. When the car came to a screeching halt, everything in the dark night air seemed still and dead, silent as the grave.

Twenty minutes later, the heavy set deputy sheriff worked on removing the small girl from the twisted wreckage when he found a small black purse crumpled next to the unconscious child. Ignoring it for the moment, Yancy worked on pulling the young girl from her seat. Doc Cameron was on his way, as he had radioed the accident in almost twenty minutes ago. Hopefully the doctor would be here any moment.

Sweat dripped down Yancy's spine, making his shirt feel cold and wet in the night air. He'd been working frantically for what seemed like forever trying to get the little girl out of the wreck. Initially the door had refused to open, so he had to enlist the help of the officer, who now worked on the other side of the car trying to get the woman out of it, to help him pry the door open. All the while, thoughts of knowing that the threat of a fire still plagued them danced in the Deputy's mind. 

He worked diligently on the belt that fastened the little dark haired girl into the car. He pulled and tugged frantically, wishing for the pocket knife he usually carried with him. But damn him, he had left in the office this fateful night. Pulling frantically at it once more, it finally gave with a soft ripping sound. 

Looking down at the little girl who appeared as still as death he felt a coldness wash over him. She should be at home in bed right now, he thought sorrowfully. Careful of her head, he reached out to pull her from the wreckage. His large hand touched her face gently, but quickly withdrew when he felt a cold wetness on his fingers. Pulling back, he looked at his fingers. Lord, but they burned. Smelling them, he couldn't name the chemical that had splashed all over the small child. 

"Jesus H. Christ!" He yelled loudly and ducked into the compact car and pulled the girl out hastily, being as cautious as he could of her head. Her face was completely ashen and her eyes were closed lightly. Feeling a tightness in his chest, he laid the girl on the ground and tried to wipe away as much of the chemical on the girl's small face as he could. His hand burned from the effort, but he didn't care. The little one was all that mattered now. Digging in his pants pocket he quickly found his handkerchief, and begun to wipe her face with a renewed vigor. 

"Did you get her?" He heard a voice coming from the other vehicle. Turning toward the voice, he looked across the desolate highway to see the blue Ford that hit the compact car. The driver, a young man no more than twenty five, was as drunk as a soldier celebrating his leave. He swerved to miss a damn squirrel and hit the woman and her child. 

"Shut the hell up." Yancy ordered and turned his attention back to the little one. She was too small to be hurt this badly, his mind shouted. Suddenly he remembered the purse in the small car. Rushing back to where he had seen it, he ducked into the car and felt around the floor until he found it. Pulling it out, he returned to the child and leaned down close to her. 

"I don't know if you can hear me, honey," he said quietly, "but if you can, we're gonna get you some help. I promise, honey. Don't you worry." 

When he looked at the woman in the driver's seat, he wasn't able to recognize her. Her face had been mutilated, and all the bones in her face had been crushed. All it was now was a pile of mush and muscle matted where her face had once been. He winced at the sight of the poor woman. 

Reaching into the little black purse, he found the wallet almost immediately. It was a matching black leather wallet that obviously carried many credit cards because of it's weight. Opening it, he scanned quickly for picture identification. A Montana State driver's license sat in a clear section of the wallet. Pamela Mills. 

Oh, shit. Yancy knew immediately who the woman was. She was the wife of Jim Mills a local rancher. Oh God, this was little Jessica Mills, he thought looking down at the little dark haired girl. Yancy felt suddenly sick to his stomach. The Mills Family were pillars of the community, and had never done a thing wrong in the years their families had lived in these parts of Montana. He felt anger mixed disgustingly with bile, rising in his throat. If he could get his hands on the out-of-town drunk, he would kill him after he let Jim beat the hell out of him. 

"Dave," Yancy called to the officer whom had just freed Pamela's body from the twisted wreckage. The young officer, barely twenty three, looked at Yancy, apprehension clear in his gaze. "It's the Mills women, Pamela and Jessica." Hearing Dave curse loudly, Yancy looked up to see a flash of yellow and blue lights, indicating Doc Cameron had arrived. 

He watched silently as the doctor rushed out of the large black van that had brought him here, and rushed to Yancy's side and looked at the child. "Is this Jessica Mills?" He asked quietly as he began to check vital signs. Yancy nodded quietly. "So I can safely assume that wreck of a person over there is Pam." He said as more of a statement than a question. 

"Yeah." Yancy said breathlessly. 

"Okay, she's alive, but she won't be unless we get her to a hospital quickly." Cameron picked up the girl quickly and placed her on a stretcher in the black van. Walking behind the doctor, Yancy turned away from the sight the doctor walked to, and grimaced. Pamela wasn't recognizable. He knew they would have to use a combination of her identification card and dental records to verify her identity. 

Feeling a wave of sympathy for Jim, Yancy took a deep breath and stared at the sky. "She's dead, isn't she Doc?" He asked, well aware of the tremor in his voice and how it made him crack emotionally. He had never seen anything this bad before. Nothing this bad in his fifteen years with the force. Feeling a deep sympathy for Dave, Yancy looked over at the young officer. The poor kid had only been on the Spring Creek Force for two short months. Already, he was seeing the worst humanity had to offer.

"Yeah, she's gone." Doc Cameron said quietly, and bowed his head. He knew that the doctor was praying for her and the child. "Do I need to check the driver of the other vehicle?" He asked finally standing and looking at Yancy. Yancy shook his head.

"No. He just got a couple of minor scratches, possibly a concussion, and that's about it." Yancy looked at the man who held on to his head in the blue pick-up. "I wish I could kill that bastard." He couldn't believe he was actually seeing a man who killed a woman, and almost killed a child, all because he didn't want to hit a damn squirrel in his drunken stupor. 

Ten minutes later, Yancy watched as a helicopter rushed little Jessica Mills to the hospital, a hundred fifty miles away in Butte. Turning to the driver, he felt anger simmering. Walking over, he grabbed the man by the collar of his sweater and yanked him to his feet. "Your under arrest for manslaughter and for driving under the influence; possibly two charges of manslaughter. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford one, the court will appoint one to you. . ."

Yancy's voice faded into the night as he placed the man into the police cruiser and closed the door. Quietly, he opened his door, slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Turning the car toward the Rocking M, Jim Mills' ranch, he drove into the night. His only assurance that the accident had really happened was the fact that a man sat quietly behind him, and his partner was quietly weeping to himself. 

He had to break the news to Jim, himself.

* * * * *

Light flooded Jessica's eyelids, and she felt compelled to open her eyes. For some reason, she couldn't. Panic swept over her for a long minute. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Where was Mama? Daddy? Where was she? "Daddy?" Jessica hadn't realized she had called out in her panic until she felt a warm hand envelope hers. 

"It's okay, honey. Daddy is right here." His voice sounded muffled and far away. Cotton scratched her ears, but the voice of her father soothed her aching soul. "Rest, sugar. It will be okay. Daddy promises." Sighing contentedly, Jessica did her best to nod, and fell into the pit of darkness that surrounded her. 

Jim Mills watched his daughter with tears in his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen; not to his family. Jessica was only a little girl. Pamela was still so young. He still couldn't grasp the fact he lost his wife. Now, Jessica might be going, too. His heart crushed at the very thought of it. 

He tried to push back the tears that he felt flooding his eyes as he looked down at his child, his only child. Bandages wrapped around her head, holding the gauss that was placed on Jessica's eyelids; covering her eyes and her tiny ears, ears her mother had constantly said were his ears. 

Jim broke down into heart wrenching sobs. His daughter's body was so small in the large hospital bed she had been placed in nearly three days earlier. Her face, the visible portion at least, was pale, as white as the bandages wrapped around her face. 

Laying his face on the bed, he tried to quiet his sobs. The last thing he needed to do right now was to wake Jessica. She didn't even know she was in the hospital. He cried long and hard until he was asleep, his face lined with tears. 

The next morning, when Jessica awoke, she opened her eyes and saw a light like nothing she had ever seen before. White-blue light streaked all over the small room. Glancing around the room, she didn't understand why she wasn't in her bed at home. Where was Daddy? 

Suddenly, she remembered hearing his voice and his hand on hers. Turning her head toward the direction she recalled his voice coming from, she saw him, lying face down on her bed, tears stained his face. Reaching a hand out, she wiped them away. His head turned into her touch, and she smiled. 

Panic seized her heart suddenly, and she wondered why he was crying. Daddy never cried. Grabbing at his shoulder, Jessica began to shake him. "Daddy! Daddy, wake up! Please, Daddy, wake up!" Jessica pleaded. For the first time in her short life, she didn't know if her Daddy would wake. 

Groggily, Jim opened his tear busied eyes and looked up at Jessica. She sat in the bed, her hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. When he opened his eyes and pulled his head up, she smiled a reassured smile and leaned back on the pillows. "Daddy, why are you sad?" She asked, her mouth becoming a thin line, a sad expression crossing her small features. 

"Jessica? You're awake?" Jim jumped up, and was surprised beyond words when she seemed to follow his movements, even though her eyes were covered in gauss. He paused a minute before dashing toward the door of her hospital room. The door swung open, and Jim rushed out, demanding her doctor immediately. 

Jessica stared at her father in disbelief. What the heck was he doing? Jessica wondered while she climbed out of the big bed and walked into the hall. A woman wearing a nurses uniform stood at a desk across the hall from her room. A light pink light filtered around her, and for some reason, it made her seem more approachable. 

"Um, lady, where did my Daddy go?" She asked the nurse as politely as she could. She knew Momma would want her to be polite, no matter what. 

"Excuse me?" The nurse looked extremely confused. "Honey, what are you doin' out of your bed? Come on, before you hurt yourself." The nurse stood up and walked around the desk, her hand out to hold Jessica's. Jessica stepped back from the woman and watched the nurse's color change from a light pink to a darker pink, and swirl into a dark orange color. 

"I don't want you to touch me!" Jessica yelled, suddenly alarmed. What was going on with the colors? Turning, Jessica ran toward the room she had come from. She ran into the room and jumped on to the bed, pulling the covers over her head and wishing she was home with Momma and Daddy. She felt tears slip from her eyes, and tried to wipe them away. 

Panic once again seized her when she felt the bandages on her eyes. That was impossible! She could see, how could she have something wrapped around her face? She pulled and tugged on the bandages until they tore free from her face. She touched her face and felt the soft smoothness of her young skin. 

Hearing the door open, she looked up to see her father walk into the room with a man wearing a white lab coat. Her father stopped when he saw her, and simply stared at her. "Jessica?" Her dad's voice sounded strained. The doctor wasn't as affected by Jessica's appearance as her father was. He sighed silently and walked forward. 

"Hello Jessica. My name is Doctor Andrew Johanson. You can call me Doctor Andy. Okay?" He smiled reassuringly at Jessica, and she nodded. "How are you feeling today? How are your eyes feeling?" Jessica shrugged, her eyes never straying from her fathers form. Even though he simply stared at her, she found his presence comforting. Daddy wouldn't let anything happen to her. 

Ten minutes later, after finishing the examination, Andy Johanson shook his head. His little patient was blind. How was he supposed to tell her father? He had made worse announcements, at least she was alive. If he had a problem with that, like a few of the parents he worked with, he would turn him over to social services. 

Standing up, Andy motioned Jim over. "Mr. Mills, I am sorry. Jessica is blind. The chemicals were in her eyes for too long, and her pupil and retina were damaged before she even got here." Jim looked crestfallen. 

"She'll be fine except for the blindness right?" Jim asked quickly after a short silence. 

"Perfect. Besides the blindness, she is in perfect health. Blindness..."

"I'm not blind!" Jessica screamed. 

Both men looked at her, stunned expressions on their faces. "Jessica, your retinas are destroyed, and your eyes can't focus." Andy turned to Jim. "She is physically blind."

"That's not right! Don't listen to him, Daddy! I can see perfectly!" Jessica yelled to the men staring at her. She could tell they didn't believe her. "Daddy, your wearing the sweater Momma made you last Christmas, and your favorite work jeans. I see the doctor. He has blonde hair and pretty brown eyes, like chocolate chip cookies. Please, believe me. You," She said pointing at the doctor, "have a blue color around you. Daddy, you've got a dark green around you.

The door to the room opened slowly. "I heard the child was awake." The minister smile boldly as he saw the little girl sitting on her bed, an exasperated look on her face. "How is she fairing?" An older man entered the room, dressed in casual black with a simple white collar. The hospital chaplain walked across the room and stood next to the doctor. 

"Well little Jessica here has gone blind, but she can see everything." Dr. Johnson looked amazed even as he spoke. "Our faces, our clothes, everything." 

Jim answered in awe. "It must be a gift from God." He said, his voice a low whisper. Jim was not a church going man, but that seemed to be the only explanation. The three men looked at her in stunned silence. 

"So He has," the chaplain said and smiled down at Jessica. "The gift to see with out seeing. She can live a normal life, by the graciousness of God." Jessica looked confused by all the commotion going on around her. "When can the blessed child go home, Doctor?" Andy shrugged looking confused. 

"I suppose tomorrow. If she passes all her tests, she can leave in the morning." The confused look never left the doctors face, even as he left the room. Deep down, Jessica knew it wouldn't be the last one she got. 

* * * * *

Chapter One

Mid April 2006

Jessica sighed and pulled her blue sweater over her head. Why did she have to meet her Dad's new girlfriend? She was sure she was going to like the woman, after all, Dad was a great guy and would only choose a wonderful woman. Wouldn't he?

Lacy O'Leary. 

The woman's name echoed through Jessica's mind. The woman her father had been seeing for the past three months. To Jessica it seemed fitting that he had finally gotten up the courage to ask her to come to his home, and to meet his daughter. She shuddered, thinking about how serious this relationship was between her father and Lacy. This was the only woman he had ever brought home for her to meet, the only one he seemed serious about since her mother's death eleven years ago. 

"It's about time he got serious about someone," Jess said more to herself than to anyone. Standing, she walked toward the mirror on her dresser and primped. An oddity for her, but she wanted to make a good impression this woman. She wore her dark shoulder length hair up in a pony tail like she always did, but curled the hair in the pony tail. Her face was free of make-up, except a small amount of chap stick. 

Looking at herself, she wondered if her father told Lacy she was blind. She didn't doubt it. Looking into her reflection, she knew Lacy would blanch when she saw her eyes. Hell, it seemed like everyone did the first time they saw her eyes. The unnatural light blue that had become her eye color was not something she had inherited from either parent. Her eyes had been brown at one point in her life. . .until that night when a drunk driver took the one thing that ever mattered to Jess away. . .

It didn't matter now. It was over and done with. No point in rehashing it now. She had light blue eyes, ghostly blue eyes, and that's the way it was, the way it had been for fifteen years. She didn't care what color her eyes were. She didn't see with them, so it didn't matter. 

Turning away from the mirror, she adjusted her jeans and opened the door to her room and stepped out into the hall. Closing the door behind her, she smiled when she heard her father cursing like a sailor in the kitchen over his burnt something-or-other. So that was the smell. Dad never did have talent in the kitchen, she thought with a silent giggle. 

Walking down the stairs, she listened as her father's voice grew louder and more pungent. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw her father leaning over a burnt roast and smiled. "Umm, smells great, Dad," she said sarcastically. She watched her father move to the sink and mumble something under his breath with subdued laughter. "Pardon?" She said, grinning at him.

"Nothin'," He said as he opened the window above the kitchen sink to let the smoke out of the room. The door bell rang startling them both. Jess turned toward the door in silent questioning. "That must be Lacy," her father said nervously. He dropped the hot pads that rested on his hands and rubbed his palms against the roughness of his Levi jeans. "She's early."

"Go get the door. I'll fix the roast." Jess said waving her hand toward the entrance hall, when another ring of the door bell sounded. Jim smiled at his daughter while moving toward the door. 

"I hope this chick doesn't think she can treat me like a invalid." Jess mumbled to herself, as she began to pull off the burnt pieces of the roast and toss them into the open topped garbage can. She'd had enough of people treating her like that for the past eleven years. 

"Hi, Jim!" Jess heard the loud squeaky voice of a female from the entry hall and winced. Her father dated this squeaking annoying sounding thing? Jess had a deep felt sympathy for her father and felt like screaming at the same time. If she had to put up with one meal with this woman, she'd better become a saint.