91 comments/ 57795 views/ 23 favorites Deter By: oshaw Bill Porter sat in the darkened solitude of his house contemplating the portending heartache that was about to transpire. Such a sad simple story. Two men in love with the same woman. And now a choice was going to have to be made and for one, there would be loss. Then again, it perhaps would be more truthful to say there would be no winners in the small little drama unfolding. The early morning shadows lightened the ambiance of the house, but not the mood as Bill continued to run scenarios on how to solve the perplexing situation. Despite the permutations, the result was always the same, he would have a life with the woman of his dreams or not. As he continued to study the shot glass of bourbon he had poured earlier, but, had not touched, he accepted that his voice would not be the decisive one. The decision would be Janet's. It would always be Janet's. He felt a sense of frustration knowing his fate would be in the hands of another. He aimlessly rotated the shot glass in the dexterity of his right hand. A pointless exercise to while away the time. Time continued to march away and he vaguely became aware that hours had passed and from the harsh flat light of the room that the noon hour approached in the silent den. Would it continue to be like this? Suffering while the sword of fate played out this drama? Each second ticking away toward the ultimate decision. A sense of weariness came over him as he shifted his gaze to look out into his backyard. The change of view gave momentary relief as his thoughts would be interrupted by the flight of an occasional cardinal or mockingbird landing in the yard seeking a meal. Incongruously, he dozed off only to be awakened by the sound of a key unlatching the lock of his front door. The only people that had such a key were he and Janet. Did her appearance signal that she had chosen him? He realized he could not face her. Could not bear to gaze upon her as he heard the sound of the door closed and footsteps echoed toward him from the hallway. So he still stared into the backyard. His thoughts were racing along with his pulse. It had to be a good sign, didn't it? She was here instead of being with him. That had to be good news! Unless, she felt obligated to be the bearer of bad news. Some moral obligation to confront him with her choice and explain why he had lost. The mixed emotions of hope and fear tormented him. He sensed a presence close to him. Then a white flash of light blinded his vision accompanied by excruciating pain reverberating in his skull. His muscle control failed as he slumped deep in the lounge chair. Then another blow struck that caused similar effect. The shot glass fell out of his hand and struck the den floor spilling the content of the drink across the floor. His head swivelled from side to side reacting from each corresponding blow. An overwhelming nausea flooded him as he sunk into unconsciousness. As he drifted awake, he felt the awful vertigo that gave the effect of the room spinning him. He slowly moved and each effort brought shooting pain in his body. The acrid iron taste of blood was in his mouth. He sensed the swelling of his head despite not being able to see. His sight was blurred and he tried to focus on commanding his facial muscles to open his sight lines, so that he could clear his view. This was met with limited success. He vaguely heard the soft moans and as he continued to regain his sentience, it was apparent that the moans were emanating from him. A sharp pain dug into his side and he reacted by moving away. He then became aware he was on the den floor and somehow he had landed atop of the shot glass he had previously held. His motions caused the glass to skitter across the floor. The relief barely justified the effort to alleviate the discomfort. He continued to rack in each painful breath as his thought process cleared. Why did this happen? How did this happen? What possible transgression had he committed against Janet that would make her react to such violence? So many questions to understand what had happened. As he struggled to lift his head some answers presented themselves. At first, all he could see were the shoes. Then as his gaze allowed, he viewed the trouser legs, up to the torso, until finally, towering above him, his angry face framed against the den ceiling was Frank Merriman. Bill Porter lapsed back into a state of unconsciousness. As he once again regained consciousness, he was aware his assailant was sitting in the chair he had previously been sitting in. In one hand was an identical shot glass full of the expensive small batch bourbon that Bill Porter had contemplated drinking. In the other, was a Model 1911 Colt Automatic pistol indifferently aimed toward Bill. Frank Merriman, his neighbor of ten years, his friend; and now, his rival for Janet's heart. How did it transpire? First, an instant attraction, then an innocuous flirtation, followed by a dalliance. Then clandestine luncheons, followed by secretive dinners. Each meeting drawing them into an inescapable vortex. There led the successful culmination of the affair, which blossomed into romance, which blossomed into love. And then came the discovery of the situation. And now Bill Porter realized that Frank Merriman had also been weighing on how to handle the situation. Unfortunate for Bill, it called for a more proactive approach. "Its about time you woke up, you sorry cocksucker! As you can tell, I borrowed Janet's key to your little loveshack." growled Frank. "I hope you don't mind me having a drink of your precious booze. It's the very least you could do for me since I've had to share Janet with you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!" Frank took a small sip and he relished it almost as much as he did the sight of a beaten down Bill Porter prostrate on the floor. "All you had to do was to go away and leave us in peace! But no, Bill. You couldn't do that! You kept twisting and twisting at Janet filling her head with nonsense. Did you really think I would let you get away with that?" Frank ominously asked. "Ten years, Bill! For ten long years you've been coming between Janet and me and it ends today, Bill!" Frank shouted. Bill tried desperately to think of something that would calm Frank down but nothing came to mind as Frank continued his tirade. "Do you have any idea of the revulsion I felt knowing you had touched her, held her in your arms, kissed her, fucked her?" The anguish in Frank voice caused him to choke from the image of Janet's betrayal. Frank took aim at Bill's body contemplating where to fire the first shot. "Where do I shoot you first, Bill? The obvious answer is to shoot you in the balls, but, I might save that for last. I just haven't decided yet." Bill Porter began working his mouth. The first sound was a croak as he tried to get his vocal cords to work. "Frank," he gasped, "You don't want to do this. If you kill me, you will go to jail, Frank. You don't want that. Right now, we can both walk away from this. But, if you pull that trigger then there will be consequences. Consequences beyond our control." In some portion of Frank's brain the information was received and digested and the gun slowly lowered down. Frank took another sip of bourbon as he balefully kept his eyes on Bill. "You think that you're so damn smart!" Frank hissed, "I'm not afraid of going to jail, just as long as you are dead and buried!" "Frank, for ten years we lived across the street from each other. You mean to say that you hate me so much that you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?" Bill pled. Frank responded, "For what you did to Janet. For what you did to me. For what you did to my family. Yeah, I'll take my chances with a trial." Exasperated, Bill blurted out, "Look Frank, Janet has—" With the mention of Janet's name, Frank exploded out of the chair and began kicking Bill's defenseless body. "DON'T! YOU! EVER! MENTION! HER! NAME! AGAIN!" Frank screamed and each word was empathized with a vicious kick. Each kick caused Bill's body to recoil from the pain and once again he passed out from the injuries he was sustaining. How late he was out he had no idea but eventually he began groaning again which signaled to Frank that Bill was coming to. Bill was crying from the pain. The kicks had bruised his entire torso. He was sure that several of his ribs were broken. His arms were aching and numb from the pommeling. Somehow, during the event he had rolled into a fetal position which prevented Frank from having access to his groin area. But, Bill could tell several kicks had landed on his buttocks, thighs and hips in an effort to get at his most vulnerable spot. Frank was back in the chair. In the interim, he had taken the time to replenish his drink. Studying his victim he said, "That's right. Cry like the little bitch you are." Bill's body rebelled and he suddenly vomited. As he continued to heave while lying in the muck he heard Frank laughing. Then the spasms were over and he settled into the stench of the vomit as Frank continued to enjoy the scenario. "Oh Billy Boy, what surprises you have had today." Frank mockingly taunted, "Not the least being something that concerns Karen and Jimmy. Yeah, MY children, Karen and Jimmy!" Frank empathized. "I know Janet lied to you and told you they were yours. You liked thinking that, didn't you?" Frank chortled. "Well guess what, Mr. High and Mighty Motherfucker? I had paternity tests run on both of them and they are both mine. Thank God, Janet was honest all along about that with me. The very thought of you having a child with Janet..." Bill could see the murderous intent playing across Frank's face. Before he could gather a defense, he saw Frank level the pistol once again. The cavernous barrel was pointed right at him and Frank's visage was that as Death itself as he pulled the trigger. Bill saw the flame from the shot and the impact of the bullet into his body. It was only afterwards that he realized he never heard the gun's retort. The trauma of shock passed through Bill as blood spurted from his body. Bill knew at that point that he would die today. Frank had crossed over and nothing would prevent him from slaying the person he held responsible for his torment. Oddly enough, another bullet was not forthcoming. "I want you to suffer, you motherfucker!" Frank screamed. "I won't see you burning in Hell, so, you'll stay alive as long as I can keep you!" Frank began a nonstop rant against all the transgressions he had suffered from Bill. After an infinity, distant sirens were sounding in the neighborhood. The Doppler effect of the sirens rose in pitch and volume as they continued coming closer. Then suddenly as the cacophony reached a climax they were eerily silenced. Strange and muted conversations were overheard from loudspeakers insisting on being informed on what had transpired. "You think they are going to save you, Billy Boy? Nothing on God's green Earth is going to do that!" Frank declared waving the pistol around. He continued his rant. Bill settled back in despair and looked out into his backyard at what probably would be the last thing he ever saw. Then there was a furtive movement coming over his back fence. Puzzled he watched as an object was being lowered to the ground. Bill had attended enough Chicago Bears football games to recognize the object as a parabolic microphone. Finally, the police would be able to hear and assess and determine a course of action. All Bill had to do was to hang on and maybe he could survive. The phone began to ring and Bill knew it was a police negotiator trying to establish contact to talk the situation out. Bill was growing weak from the loss of blood and he wasn't sure to the extent of the bullet wound. Perhaps, it would prove to be a fatal shot. Bill's only chance would be for the police to force the issue and rescue him. Now he noticed several individuals lying prone on his neighbor's roof. That had to be a SWAT team awaiting orders. He noticed little red points playing against the wall of the den now settling in the dusk of the day. Some of the lights began transfixing themselves on him and others were transfixing on Frank. In the fog of little information, the police did not know who the bad guy was. Frank had gotten up and knocked the phone off the hook. Now he was pacing the floor, still ranting, but his attitude was becoming more manic. The red dots tried desperately to remain on his body. Due to his concentration on the task at hand, Frank had never noticed the laser beams which sighted in sniper rifles. Then Frank stopped, his decision had been made and Bill watched again as the weapon was pointed at him. Frank gritted his teeth and said "Rot in Hell, Bill." Then an explosive spray of blood haloed atop Frank's head. The pistol fell away and Frank fell to the ground as though he had been a tree cut down by a lumberjack. With the echo of the shot came a flood of SWAT officers breaching into every entryway into the house. The priority was to clear the scene before any assistance would be performed. That was quickly done as police continued coming into the house, Bill noticed that after kicking away the weapon from Frank, scant attention was given to his body. That let Bill know that Frank had suffered a mortal wound. Meanwhile in the din of conversation, Bill heard an order for the EMTs to enter the house and treat the wounded. At that point amongst the din and chaos, somehow Janet appeared. As she searched across the room, her eyes briefly viewed Bill as he waited on the EMTs and a gurney to transport him to the emergency room. She barely registered him as she continued to sweep across the room. Then she spotted Frank. "OH MY GOD, NO!" she wailed in a heartfelt screech. "NO, FRANK, DON'T LEAVE ME!" With that she flung herself down on the bloody corpse and held it close to her. The discombobulated police force was frozen, not knowing how to proceed. One or two officers tried to assist getting her to release the body, but, Janet held on tighter. Then the officer apparently in charge roared, "Get this man and his wife to the hospital ASAP, you hear me!" With that the EMTs and the gurney that had been headed toward Bill were diverted over to Frank. Then began the pretense that Frank was alive so Janet would let go of him. As they transported him out, Janet asked if she could ride to the hospital with him. They gently assured her that she could. As Bill watched her disappear from his house, he knew that when they got there, Frank's body would go into the emergency room only to be declared dead on arrival. By then, the hospital grief counselors would be tending to the grieving Janet and her friends and family would be notified to her loss. Bill sensed a subtle shift in the room after Janet left. He was having to wait for another ambulance to be dispatched to his house after the first left with Janet and Frank. He was coolly informed that the estimated time of arrival was fifteen minutes. Despite all his injuries, including his gunshot wound, he was in no pressing danger. At that point he only received the bare minimum treatment necessary as a result of the entire room sympathy toward Janet and Frank. He caught several officers looking at him in disgust or open contempt, even though they maintained their professional approach to performing their duties at the scene. Bill began to second guess himself. Should he have given Frank a warning? Had he done so, then maybe Frank would still be alive and Janet would not be troubled by her loss. The shock was beginning to wear off and now Bill was in excruciating torment as he continued to wait for the ambulance. No one seemed overly concerned with his plight. Blissfully, the second ambulance arrived and the EMTs began prepping him for the journey. After they placed him on the gurney the officer in charge finally approached him. "I'm Inspector O'Henry. This is SWAT Lieutenant Mallory." He pointed to an officer that had steadily stared a hole through Bill the entire time. Inspector O'Henry continued, "I wanted you to meet the officer that had to kill the husband of that poor woman today. All because you decided that you would seduce his wife. Well, I hope you are happy with the way everything turned out and you can live with the guilt of making that lady a widow." Bill was weary and could tell he was fading fast as the EMTs put a breathing mask on him. Still, he was able to obstruct them from placing the mask. He muttered something to the Inspector. "What did you say?" Inspector O'Henry demanded in open scorn. With his last reserve of energy Bill pointed to the wall above and with all the anguish be could muster said, "She's not a widow." Bill noticed the look of surprise on Inspector O'Henry's face as he stared at the large wedding picture of Mr. And Mrs. Bill and Janet Porter framed over the mantel. Surrounding it were all the atypical family pictures of Bill and Janet and the children, Karen and Jimmy in various poses. Portraits of a happy family. The last vision Bill had before he slipped into the land of Morphia was the sad apologetic look of regret on Inspector O'Henry. Determination Our relationship had begun just before the end of the fall semester, so this would be our first Valentine's Day together despite having been friends for our entire college careers. With just one more semester of studying and testing and applying to grad schools nationwide, we knew that we needed to make the most of our time together in case Jenni and I were to be separated by multiple states – or even multiple time zones – come September. That thus formed the backdrop of our Valentine's Day. As seniors, we both had single dorm rooms, so we did not need to wonder how to enjoy some intimacy without scandalizing any roommates. Neither of us had any night classes for this final semester, and our earliest Wednesday class was at 11:00AM, so we could spend the entire night truly enjoying ourselves romantically if we so chose. We so chose. As we had agreed, I made my way across the snow-covered campus night to her dorm. As I approached her building, I happened to run into a mutual friend, Cherry, who winked at me and simply said with a wicked grin, "Don't stay up all night!" I actually wondered if we would, as Jenni and I had yet to make love. She had confided in me about a year earlier that her one and only sexual experience had been very dissatisfying. On the night before her high school graduation, she had gone out with a number of friends for one final celebration together, and everyone had paired off. Although she had long been interested in Don, she had tried to simply fool around with him, but he had somehow talked her out of her clothes, then forced himself inside her, taking her precious virginity and climaxing so quickly that she had barely felt anything good from the experience. What had made the experience worse was that several of her friends had witnessed the entire situation. I intended to give her a very memorable experience to override those unpleasant memories. I would not be able to give her another first time, but I wanted to at least help her to banish that terrible event from her mind. As I slid my student identification card through the reader to open the door to the building, I pictured Jenni nude, kneeling in the near-darkness upon a furry rug close to a glowing fireplace, her smile betraying her nervousness as she looked toward me. To make love before a burning fire was a fantasy she had admitted to me a few weeks earlier, which – perhaps unbeknownst to her – gave me the knowledge of how to make this an even more enjoyable time for her. I mounted the steps, meeting Josephine and Chuck on the second-floor landing. They held hands as the three of us chatted briefly, then they headed out to see a film together. I stood there for a moment, watching them descend the stairs, proud of them for having a relationship that had survived the trials and tribulations of both high school and college, especially as an interracial couple in a very unsympathetic town in terms of race relations. I finally stood before the door I desperately wanted to enter. Unlike the other students on this floor, Jenni had never decorated her door, so it simply bore the room number: "304." So non-descript, which in ways was a good reflection of her personality. Jenni was not someone a stranger would pass on the sidewalk and remember three seconds later. She could be standing in the middle of a boxing ring, well before the fight began, yet no one would take notice of her. She had a quiet voice, sweet and melodic. Dressing casually yet conservatively, not many people would look at her twice. And she had relatively few friends on campus, because after her experience with Don, she found it very hard to trust anyone, especially guys. And that was why it was a true honor to be the one knocking upon the plain-looking door, especially on this particular night. "It's open." I barely heard her voice permeate the wood. With a deep breath to quell my slight nervousness, I opened the door, stepping into the near-darkness within. In the small dorm room, only a single candle upon her desk provided any light. Across the small space from her desk was the single bed, upon which Jenni and I had often cuddled. This time, Jenni sat upon the bed wearing a beautiful white dress with a lacy neckline and similar hem just above the knees. A wide black belt made her hips a little more pronounced. Her legs were clad in white, whether from pantyhose or stockings I could not tell. She finished the outfit with white low heels, her usual tiny hoop earrings, and her straight brown hair flowing over her shoulders and brushing the tops of her breasts. If she wore any make-up, it was very light and difficult to see in the candlelight. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said softly with a smile as I closed and locked the door. When I turned around, she stood before me, her arms spread wide. Even though I still wore my backpack, we embraced, sharing a long hug interrupted only by an occasional kiss. At last, I stepped back, holding her at arm's length by the shoulders. In the dim candlelight, I gazed deep into her eyes. "I just want you to know... I won't do anything you don't want me to do, okay?" "I know," Jenni replied, her voice even softer than usual, her eyes never wavering. "I trust you, immensely, more than I've trusted anyone outside my immediate family." I released my girlfriend and removed the backpack, setting it on the floor in front of her closet door. "Why did you bring that?" she asked. "You'll see," I replied, slipping out of my coat and hanging it on a hook embedded in the wall. "Do you want to exchange presents first or cuddle first?" she asked, her tone making me think she was hinting at something which was not included in the vocalized options. "Your choice," I replied. "As far as I am concerned, this night is all about you." Jenni took my hand and towed me to her bed. She sat again, motioning for me to sit beside her. I did, and then, as if we were sharing the same mind, we reached for each other, our lips joining as our hands held each other's head in place. Somehow, I was able to remain the gentleman, my hands remaining upon the socially-acceptable places of her body instead of gravitating toward her chest or attempting to reach up underneath her dress. Her tongue danced with mine, first in my mouth, then in hers, as she slowly melted, leaning against me, her breasts pressing against me and drawing the focus of my mind away from her lips and her tongue and her exploring hands. In the hallway, I heard a pair of girls pass by, chatting loudly. Outside, an impatient driver in the parking lot below blared a car horn several times. But the best sound was Jenni's quiet breath as she pulled away, our lips finally parting so she could rest her head upon my shoulder for a moment. The car horn silenced and the noisy student conversation having faded away, my girlfriend extricated herself from my hold and stood beside the bed, looking down upon me with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. She turned and went to the small portable CD player with the portable plug-in speakers, and moments later, the opening notes of a violin solo reached my ears. "Dance with me?" she asked quietly, her arms outstretched toward me. I certainly could not refuse, even though I am admittedly a lousy dancer, and when the violin solo ended perhaps ten minutes later, I had proudly succeeded in not stepping on her toes. The dance ended with a kiss which lasted well into the next piece, a violin-piano duet. "I think the presents are in order now," Jenni whispered, resting her head against my chest, "although I really don't want to tear my ear away from your heartbeat." "Then don't," I replied, cradling her head to my chest. "I definitely don't mind standing here like this...or would you prefer I pull your head into my chest so your ear is pressed directly against my heart?" She giggled, a melodic sound that I definitely enjoyed hearing. "Then again, I wouldn't mind having my head pressed against your chest, either." She laughed outright, giving my arm a playful punch as she pulled away from me. Jenni motioned for me to sit on the bed and was still laughing as I obeyed with a smile on my face. She opened a drawer of her desk and retrieved what appeared to be a framed photo. When she handed it to me, I saw that it was not just any framed photo: It was a picture of us sitting by a small campfire, and my mind instantly was transported back to that weekend... It was a weekend of camping and canoeing, a much-needed break near the end of the spring semester, before the "cramming season" began in earnest. Wearing just shorts and sandals, I sat on a large rock, using a long, thick stick to maneuver a burning log, while, wearing a swimsuit with a higher-than-usual neckline, Jenni had fallen asleep on my shoulder and looked as peaceful and as beautiful as a newborn babe. While certainly unplanned when our friend Alison had taken the picture, an eight-point buck meandered through the background of the shot. "That was the weekend that I knew you were special," Jenni said softly, sitting beside me with an arm around my shoulders. "Our second semester was about to end, and I just simply 'knew' that eventually, you and I would become much closer. I wish it had happened sooner, but I'm glad it finally did." "That makes three of us," I replied quietly, kissing her lips as she giggled at my honest joke. "Thank you." Images of Jenni from that weekend flashed through my mind: Jenni swimming in the river, Jenni's frightened expression during one of Brad's ghost stories, Jenni concentrating heavily as she scrutinized her hand during a Euchre game, Jenni's silhouette against the canvas of her tent as she changed clothes one night... "I suppose that it's only fair that I give you your present," I said, to which she nodded her agreement. I went to the backpack to put away the framed photo and retrieve her gift, hiding it behind my back when I returned to her to increase the anticipation. "You've talked about this before," I said, "and I was actually able to find it." As soon as I presented the jar of Nutella, Jenni's eyes grew big in disbelief, then she jumped up to hug me tightly, the jar pressed between us. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!!" "Now I'm really glad I could find Nutella for you!" The kiss was intense, providing a nice counterpoint to the quiet, shy, reserved college girl most people on campus knew. Of course, I was not about to complain. As Jenni stepped away to put the Nutella atop her dresser, however, she seemed to slip back into the quiet, shy, reserved college girl persona. I thought it was time, and returned to the backpack, withdrawing a CD sleeve and pulling out the disc within. "What is that?" "You'll see." I turned on her small TV, which was fortunately already set to AV, then turned on the tiny DVD player. A few moments later, the disc began to play... and a roaring fireplace was displayed on the screen. "Where did you get this?" Jenni asked, the smile evident in her voice. I returned to my girlfriend, taking her into my arms again. "Someone posted online a thirty-minute file of a camera pointed at a fireplace. It was fortunately in a format that I could turn into a VideoCD, so I did. I remembered that you had always wanted to have a fireplace, so I brought it with me. It's not much, but at least it's a start for your dream." We stood there for a long time, the music finally ending. The silence was quite comfortable: just two lovers holding each other in the light of a fireplace. The silence was broken again, although not by loud students in the hallway or a blaring car horn. From one of the nearby dorm rooms, a sudden feminine screech of carnal desire assaulted our ears. That sound was followed by several others, shorter in duration and not quite as loud, until that lucky coed's sounds faded away as she recovered from her bliss. And I could tell from her hold upon me that Jenni was nervous once more. "As I said," I reassured her, stroking her hair, "we won't do anything you don't want to do. I'm not expecting anything tonight other than simply enjoying some quiet time with you." She stepped away, took my hand, and led me to the bed. As she stretched out on the bed, I sat beside her and removed my shoes, then stretched out alongside her, taking her in my arms and simply holding her, comforting her as I could still sense her nervousness. Amazingly, and a bit to my embarrassment, I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, the candle had been extinguished, the only light coming from the false fireplace. Jenni was upon me, planting gentle kisses all over my face, and even before I was fully awake, I could feel a telltale stirring within my slacks. "I could get used to waking up like this," I murmured, my arms enveloping my girlfriend. She simply continued to pepper my face with kisses, her hands holding my head in place. Her breath was warm upon my face, her lips seemingly as soft as a feather. At last, I guided Jenni's lips toward mine. Our kiss was languid, heartfelt. The light and the sounds of the false fireplace seemed to be the perfect backdrop to create the romantic atmosphere dedicated to this night, to this young woman upon me. And when her lips finally separated from mine, she kissed her way toward my ear before whispering breathily: "I want to make love to you." That one sentence, full of desire and devotion, brought me to full hard throbbing erection. Jenni could feel it, for she rocked gently along my length. "I want you inside me," she whispered, the tone of her voice starting to change, signaling her heightening arousal. I let her slip from my grasp as she slowly slid off me, stepping onto the floor. I rose to sit on the bed and my hands grasped her by the waist, pulling her to me, my lips kissing each breast in turn as I reached toward her belt. I looked up into the eyes I had admired since we had first met, and saw a determination I had rarely seen from Jenni previously. That was when I realized that by giving herself to me, she was driving away her bad memories of Don. The wide black belt removed, I held it for a moment, checking her eyes to ensure she truly wanted to go forward with this, and her determination only grew. Setting the belt on the bed, I stood before her, taking my girlfriend in my arms and kissing her with an intensity which surprised even me. I definitely loved her, but now her determination had also become my own. Reaching upward, I located the zipper. We continued to kiss as the zipper was lowered, opening her to the act ahead. Jenni whimpered into my mouth, pressing herself against the bulge in my slacks, reaching for my belt. We separated long enough for her to remove the belt and set it beside hers upon the bed, then she kissed me again with even greater need, greater determination. In my mind's eye, I pictured Jenni naked save for a black leather collar, kneeling submissively before me, her eyes looking intently up at me with love, her lips stretched obscenely as I filled her mouth and knocked at her throat. But I quickly banished that image, reminding myself that this night was entirely about her. Breathless, Jenni stepped back and turned around. Reaching for her chest, I used her breasts as leverage to pull her back against me. As I fondled her chest, she slithered slowly, sensuously against me, revealing a side of Jenni I had long suspected was deep within her but had never seen. But when I nudged her away, she did not complain, especially when my hands slid to her shoulders and began to remove the garment which protected the majority of her skin from my admiring gaze. Seemingly in slow motion, the beautiful white dress descended toward the floor, revealing the body I would soon enter for the very first time. She wore a white bra and panty with white stockings attached to a garter belt, and she still wore her white low heels. Still she slithered against me, her fingers interlaced behind my neck, as if offering her body to my exploring hands. By instinct, my hands went to her back to unclasp her bra, but I was met with a surprise: Jenni was wearing a front-hook bra. I smiled at that, at her foresight, at her thoughtfulness, then reached around her to reach her breasts from their confinement. Reaching up, I removed her hands from behind my neck, and sat again. Turning her around, I looked into my girlfriend's eyes, noting the sparkles as I finally slipped the bra straps from her shoulders, allowing the garment to flutter to the floor. As if reading my mind, she reached for my head, cradling me as my mouth began to work at her right breast, gently sucking and nibbling and licking. I slipped a hand between Jenni's thighs, and noted a delightful change. I had fingered her a few times before, but I could tell that, for the first time, she was clean-shaven between her legs. I smiled around her nipple as I tugged it with my teeth, eliciting a soft hiss from above as my hands lowered the now-cut panty to provide myself with a clear, unobstructed path to the weeping womanhood. Jenni rocked against my hand as I gently stroked her, bringing forth more of her liquid love and applying it lovingly to her lower lips. My mouth meandered to the opposite breast, renewing its work as soft sounds of delight and desire spilled forth from her upper lips. When I at last penetrated her body with a single finger, her breath caught audibly, and she stiffened for just a heartbeat before moving against my cupped hand once again. She squealed as I bit down on her nipple, crushing it between my teeth. I quickly released the hardened nub, soothing it with my lips and my tongue as she moved a little more insistently against my hand, the penetrating finger exploring every millimeter of her wet passage. For just a moment, I removed the finger, then quickly thrust a pair up inside her, my ears savoring Jenni's loud gasp as she clutched my head to her breast. Ruthlessly, I assaulted the very willing woman before me. My free hand flat against her lower spine to hold her somewhat in place, I masturbated her furiously. Tearing my mouth from her chest, I looked up at her beautiful face, watching raptly as hard, heavy, loud breaths passed between her wide-parted lips, her eyes clamped shut. And when her climax finally claimed her, she ceased breathing for several long, mesmerizing seconds, her eyes suddenly wide open yet clearly unable to see anything but stars. I bit a nipple again, and she cried out like a siren, her body trembling, her legs wobbling against mine, then she at last sagged against me, clutching me as if I was attempting to save her from drowning in a turbulent sea. Leaning backward, I pulled Jenni down upon me, then rolled us both so I was atop her. She was still breathing rather heavily, her eyes half-open as I lifted myself up, gently stroking a breast as I stood. I removed her panty, leaving her in garter belt, stockings, and heels. "Please," Jenni whispered, "now." In the light of the false fireplace, I disrobed before her for the first time, our eyes locked the entire time. And when I was fully nude at last, I stepped up between her legs and pressed the tip of my manhood against her sex. "I love you, Jenni," I said softly, "and I always will." She reached for my hips, and slowly pulled me into her hot, willing body. Her not-so-quiet moan was lengthy and seductive, her facial expression a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort as her wet passage was being pried apart for the first time in a long time. She clasped around me several times, providing me with additional delight as I slowly filled her, impaled her, until I was at last fully sheathed inside her. With my hands on her hips, I began to slowly move within her. "Yes," she whispered, "this is so right." Determinism RAGE It was as pure as the rain. Elemental and unbound. Before he knew it he had struck the dashboard in his car and the whole thing shook and the downpour cocooned his impotent fury from the glistening street and the couple frantically crossing it under one black umbrella. It was unusual for Mark, that kind of anger. He choked the steering wheel with his fists. He had never actually hated anyone until the incident with Kate. He despised the way that she could stick her hands into his life and almost surgically fuck it up. And what made it even worse was that he couldn't strike back. He'd concocted plans; deviously beautiful plans of revenge that could make the elaborate soliloquys of Shakespeare's villains seem unimaginative. The woman was a successful lawyer. When his ex-wife first introduced them just before they'd married, not knowing any better, he would have called this woman "beautiful" or "attractive". She was very fashion-conscious, and always wore something just a little more elaborate, a little more expensive and noticeable, than she had to wear. Her hair was black, long and seemingly just barely contained. With her black-framed glasses and discerning green eyes, she always presented herself as intelligent and in control. The day after she wrecked his marriage, he actually drove to her cozy eastern-themed apartment flat, to ask her, Why? Why wreck his marriage by propagating such disinformation? The made up rumors and the photo shopped pictures. With her door opened just enough she gleamed at him and said, "Because you were not good enough for her. Frankly, I don't think you're good enough for anyone. A syphilitic whore, maybe. This new guy, the guy I'm setting Sophie up with, is more suited for her I think. I'm the kind of girl who would do anything for my friends, even if they don't even know that they've made a silly mistake." And she firmly closed the door on him. He knew he could prove that the pictures were photo shopped, he even knew a guy, an expert in those matters who could prove it. The next month Sophie was seeing somebody new. He'd heard from old associates that she was happy; they were going to Hawaii together. Determinism The water was lukewarm. Tiny bubbles were beginning to form at the bottom of the clear jug. She could eat all of the food. She could take his bedpan and throw it to the other side of the room. All of that just to get back for what happened yesterday. I did not feel anything, she thought. What happened was this: I told him to fuck me and get it over with. He got on top of me and put his tiny dick inside. He lasted only a minute. He looked ridiculous. I did not feel anything, particularly pain. I did not cry. In fact, I made fun of him for his tiny dick. I did not feel anything, not even pleasure. She didn't know whether she would go through with the sessions or not. She needed a bath. She smelled of sweat and sex. Her hair was a mess, oily and tangled. She took a long gulp of water from the jug and put it back. Mark slept noisily beside her, snoring. She thought she could kill him. Grab the chain while he is sleeping and pull and pull and pull until his eyes bulge and his face turns blue. At least it would stop his snoring. She wondered how D would react if she'd kill Mark. Would he even care? Suddenly she knew she was going to go through with the sessions. She needed a bath, even a running tap and a bar of soap would do. She needed to wash herself out, to scour herself clean. And if she had do dirty herself with this "man" again to cleanse herself, then she would. [To be concluded]