Message-ID: <23774asstr$956189403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "PQ_Cat" X-Client-NNTP-Posting-Host: net.zipcon.net/209.221.137.14 X-TWRN-Tag: 956185098159 X-Original-Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 19 Apr 2000 15:57:10 PDT Subject: {ASSM} The Lady and The Ladder {anon} MF Rom Date: Wed, 19 Apr 2000 20:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, english, IceAltar Souvie asked me to post this for her. I didn't write it. (introduction by Souvie) The day my story, "Romancing Jack" was posted to ASSM, someone contacted me about writing a companion piece - the story from Jack's point of view. I was extremely flattered, but also nervous because that character is loosely based on someone I know and I was afraid no one else would be able to do him justice. After reading the rough draft of this story, I realized I was wrong - the story is as close to perfect as it could be without being written by "Jack" himself. --- I, the person who wrote the story that follows, release ALL interest in and the copyrights for this story - to Souvie. Call it a sense of fairness. They *are* her characters after all. I and three other people (that I know of) know for certain who wrote this. Guess all you like but I would appreciate it if you keep those speculations private. --- The Lady and The Ladder --- (Ghostwritten for Souvie) --- 'Come off it, Jack. She's a writer and you're a painter who likes to read. What makes you think she'd see you as someone to get to know better? She certainly ignored you after the introduction at the party.' Variations of those thoughts had been running through my mind ever since that party. I suppose I was smitten after that first rather absent-minded "Hello". No, no suppose about it. I felt like some kid meeting his idol. Charlene - 'Call me Charly' - had brown hair that billowed as she moved her head. Not really long but long enough. A rare smile that dazzled me whenever I glimpsed it. Her body was average but she moved with the same quick vitality that she used in her writing. I had enjoyed dreaming of the writer I never expected to meet. At that party, I fell in love with the woman who hid behind the words. What chance was there that a house painter could capture someone so... Alive? None, but after a month of agony, I decided to at least try. --- Charlene was on a ladder and putting the finishing touches on the sign for her office. I don't know how long I stood there just drinking in her movements and dreaming of a future that would never be. Finally, I blurted out "Damn, you sure are good!" As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. 'Come on idiot. You know better than that. That has to be one of the worst pickup lines you've heard, let alone spoken yourself.' She stifled a scream, jerked and would have fallen had I not grabbed her waist and steadied her. I felt her shiver slightly before she regained her balance. "Sorry." I ducked my head in embarrassment. "I really do know better. Didn't mean to scare you like that." Now what do I say? Cool move on my part. Scare the woman so she falls into my arms. What else can I do wrong? Oh. I moved back and gave her some room. "That's ok. No harm done." There was a long silence while she climbed down. Once off the ladder, she raised her eyes to look at me. I noticed one of her hands start to rise and then she seemed to wake and force it back down. She introduced herself and I told her we met at a party. I caught myself shifting to lean down and... I jerked myself back to reality. She finally asked "Why did you say I was good?" Yeah. Dunderhead. Explain that one. I looked away and focused on the small sign. "That. I enjoy reading your articles." I paused to gather my thoughts. "I read your article in the Tribune last Sunday. Very well done and clear. Easy to understand. You're obviously good at what you do." "Oh. Thank you." I watched as she forced back what looked like the beginnings of a blush. Rather than comment, I held out my hand. "Well, I better get back to work. See you again maybe?" Was that a slightly quizzical smile? "Sure." Her grip was as steady and confident as her writing. --- For the next few months, we just visited whenever we happened to meet. Somehow, without any agreement, I started dropping by her office to let her know what I thought of her articles. Those discussions fascinated me. She had a range of interests that was staggering in its scope. I discovered she liked to take walks when she was trying to solve a writing problem. I fell into the habit of letting her know if I was going to be working somewhere nearby. She would stop, say hello and without any real awareness of what I was doing, I would take a break and visit with her. Those meetings became as routine as my visits to her office. Still, for all the fun we shared, I felt like we were just two people who happened to take time to visit. Never anything more. No sign that she was seeing me as more than someone she could just relax with. The friendship was sweet and enjoyable but... I wanted more. Some sign that I was more than a friend. A few brief touches as we shook hands became fuel for dreams that were much more. Her smiles and jaunty stride became kisses and passionate couplings. Ahhh... How I dreamed so much - based on so little truth. Finally, one day, in a spirit of 'go for it', I tried to look casual and relaxed as I sat on the edge of her desk. She looked up and smiled. "Charly? How about you and me... having dinner somewhere? A real date. I'll be done with this job in a few weeks and I'll have some free time." Was that surprise? Something more in her eyes? "Sure." We talked some more and finally sorted out a time and day. When she asked if I had any idea where, I just smiled. "Dress casual but elegant. I get tired of these." I gestured at my painter's outfit. Yes, I think there was a gleam in those eyes as I waved and left. There wasn't any one thing I could point to and say "This told me our relationship changed." But, change it did. We both 'knew' things had changed and that we didn't need to speak of it. For one thing we seemed to have conversations that explored us together rather than as individuals. Our silences were deeper and filled with companionship rather than awkwardness. Charly opened up more when she talked about herself and her dreams. When I first saw her, I was amazed at the energy that filled her movements. The energy was still there but somehow she seemed to be directing that energy directly at me rather than its just 'being there'. She stood taller. She walked with more pride in herself. And, in spite of her plainness, there was a proud sexiness in every move when she was in public. I'd scoffed when a few friends had told me of times when they met a woman and both of them knew - without any discussion - that they would end up sexually involved with each other. Well, sometime after we committed to our 'date', Charly and I reached that understanding. We hadn't even kissed but we both knew we wanted to be with the other. It's a strange feeling. Every look, every word, every touch... becomes a promise for the future. The dinner was a giddy experience. We ate at a little Italian place near her apartment. It was all I could do to keep from dragging her across the table and crushing her in my embrace. Whispers and giggles. Smiles. Lots of smiles and even a few grins. I felt like a teenager on his first date. For all my experience, I found myself trembling and hesitant when I dared to hold her hand as we visited. What had happened to the woman I'd been around for over four months? Charly was as elegant, confident, hesitant, trembling, sparkling and mysterious as ever. Somehow she seemed lost, alone and unsure at the same time. Maybe that explains what happened at her door when I escorted her home. I dared to hug her before turning to leave. Gods, was she vibrant and alive. I didn't want to ever let go. She grabbed my hand as I turned away and then, suddenly, her eyes glowed and she pulled my head down and kissed me. Once I recovered from my surprise, I forced myself to kiss her back. Lightly. I wanted to crush her to me and fill my kiss with all the love I felt. I didn't. Charly would have none of that. Her kiss became more urgent. She started filling it with promises of herself. With that, I let myself go. I don't know how long we kissed or who it was that finally broke contact. I felt her shiver and stagger. I steadied her as she reached for and leaned on the doorframe. Before I left, I whispered "Charly" and bent down and gave her a brief kiss. I barely heard her whispered "Jack" as I managed to find my way to my car. --- Was it days later? Weeks? A month? Finally, we admitted to ourselves and our friends that we were a couple. Hell, I couldn't deny it since I walked around with a goofy grin every time I thought of her. People noticed. We started spending time at each other's apartments. There were intimate explorations as we sat and talked or watched TV. 'Accidental' contacts became deliberate and open. We quit pretending and would touch and grope each other when we felt like it. Her eyes danced and she glowed during these games. One evening, as we started one of our 'arguments' about what to watch, Charly hid the remote under the cushions and then sat down on them. "You'll have to go through me. I'm not moving!" She was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. A challenge I couldn't resist. I suppose I could have picked her up and moved her. Wouldn't have been the first time. This time I grinned and reached down the back of her pants with one hand and started tickling her with the other. Then I leaned forward and covered her mouth with mine in an effort to distract her even more. At first, she gave as good as she got. Somewhere in all the action, we forgot about the TV and the remote. I'll never be able to tell which one of us changed the rules. I vaguely remember my hands shifting from 'tickles' to 'caresses'. Our kiss, at first filled with laughter, changed. Instead of teasing, it became a question. As we continued, it turned into a promise and finally - mutual demands. Groping hands and teeth worked frantically to remove our clothing. Was it me? Or was it Charly who growled softly as we had to pause and remove my boots so my pants would come off? I never knew until that night that taking each others' clothes off could be so erotic. Finally, with only lust to drive me, we were naked, on the floor and doing everything we could to excite each other. I'm ashamed to admit it now but there were no thoughts of love in what I was doing. Charly had filled me with lust. All those dreams came home and changed to reality. I had one thought and I sought to complete it. In Charly. She matched me move for move until... "Protection!" It was a whispered gasp. Desperation and lust colored it. I was so out of it that it took me a few seconds to realize what she meant. Pants. Where were my pants? My hand flailed in a frantic search. My hips kept moving. Seeking. Somehow Charly managed to keep me from slamming home. Ever tried to rip open a condom packet while your hips are thrusting at a woman? Don't. Suddenly, I heard what can only be called a low, very throaty growl - of frustration. It came from Charly. She tore the package from my fumbling hands, stuck it between those perfect teeth - and savagely jerked her head to one side as one hand held the side of the packet. How in *hell* did the condom itself survive? She applied it in one swift, very certain move and before her hand left the base of my penis, she was sliding home. Somehow I managed to shift and brace myself for better leverage. I had one thing on my mind. Sex. Completion. I had just enough rational thought left to help her shift so my penis would rub against her clit with each thrust. Then we pounded at each other. Rapid, lust filled movements - were the only world I knew. Slamming together. Squeezing. Digging. Seeking. Months of thinly veiled hints and promises combined into a few very magical minutes that finally left us both slack and gasping for breath. I had to laugh as her whisper broke into my thoughts. "I need a drink." I watched as she gingerly got up and staggered into the kitchen. Cool air reminded me of a duty. Without really being aware of what I was doing, I reached down and started to remove the condom from my flaccid... Pain made me look down. As I heard water fill first one glass and then another, I was struggling to find a way to untangle my pubic hair from the partially rolled up condom. Bare feet made me look up. She was standing there partly bent over and offering me a glass of water. She also had a slightly puzzled look as she stared at my hands. "I can't get it off." "Huh?" "The condom. I can't get it off." My lips quirked slightly and I stammered. "You put it on in such a hurry that it's tangled up in my pubic hair. I can't get it off." "Oh." Pause. "Hang on." She set the glasses down and went over to her desk. Metal gleamed in her hand as she returned. As she bent down to hand me the scissors, we couldn't keep silent any longer. My laughter was a bit forced but it was genuine for all that. Together, we carefully snipped away until I could, with care, remove the now very tattered condom. The rest of the night was very gentle and very loving. I had one more condom with me. We never needed it. That first time tired us out so much we decided to cuddle. The remote stayed buried in the cushions for several days. --- Things went on from there. We got closer and closer as time passed. I honestly expected that we would be together for some time. That's how comfortable our relationship was. Steady and caring. Deep. We hadn't discussed it openly but I felt - committed. Then she got a call. A death in the family. She was needed. No problem. I even took her to the airport, kissed her tenderly and waved good-bye as she boarded. "See you when you get back". Her answering smile was wan but genuine. When she got back, she was tense. Curled inward. I figured she was still recovering. Instead of bombarding her with questions, I waited in silence as I drove us to her apartment. It was when I parked to let her off that she finally spoke. "Jack, I don't think we should see each other any more." She was crying. I wanted to demand an answer. Any answer. Wasn't what we had shared special for both of us? Why now? What happened? Memories of my father surfaced through my shock. "Son, when a woman says no, no matter what, you *will* treat it as NO. No questions. No begging. You accept it even if you think you are sure she doesn't really mean it. If you don't and I hear about it..." I sighed and allowed myself one sentence. "Do I get to know why?" "I just think it's for the best. I'm not ready for a relationship. I never will be. We should just end it now while we're still friends." I didn't think that sounded good even to Charly but I nodded sadly. Somehow I managed to wrestle her bag over the seat and set it between us. Not looking at me, she took it and fumbled for the door latch. I watched as she walked up to her door and went inside. It was a long time before I reached over and closed the door. I didn't want to end the happiest days of my life with something as final as a car door slamming shut on darkness. Once in awhile over the next months, I'd see her somewhere. At first she was alone but finally she was with some guy I didn't know. I envied him. Did he know what a prize he had in his life? I didn't think so. Every time I saw Charly I couldn't help but notice she was different. The spring was gone. That spark that made Charlene - Charly - had vanished. Life goes on. I went on. I tried to forget and mostly succeeded. Still, I couldn't put that first vivid image out of my mind. Charly, startled, shivering into my hands as I steadied her on the ladder. --- Last night the doorbell rang. It was late. I was tired. I tried to ignore it. The second long ring convinced me I couldn't. "I'll get there!" I doubted if whoever it was would hear me but it felt good to yell it. The shrill sound of the third long ring was still knifing through me as I opened the door. I barely recognized the disheveled figure who stood there. She was sobbing and frantic. "Charly?" I didn't get a chance to say more. Arms I remembered so well tried to squeeze me flat. Her mouth sought mine as if it were the only thing capable of saving her from drowning. She was still shivering when she pulled away slightly. I could barely hear, let alone understand, her words as they tumbled out in one long rush. "I'm sorry, Jack. God, I'm so sorry. I was an idiot. I loved you, I still love you. I was just so afraid. Afraid that one day I would wake up and you'd tell me you never really loved me at all, that it had just been a game. Or that I'd lose you, through my own stupid pride or stubbornness or the fact that I'm not perfect or because one day you'll die." Once she started, the crying began again. Words. Tears. More words. Somehow, through it all, I received the impression her last lover had used her. There wasn't anything I could do except wait her out. Finally she nestled into my embrace and seemed to relax a little. "I made a mistake and I was stupid. Please say you'll give me another chance." I couldn't help my smile. "I made a mistake, too. I let you walk out of my life and didn't even try once to get you back. I was stupid. Please say you'll give me another chance." There was a hint of her normal grin as she smiled through her tears. I was crying too as I invited her back into my life. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes, then we'll do something about us." It felt like the most natural thing in the world to have her cuddle into my side as I reached to close the door. -fini- -- Free audio & video emails, greeting cards and forums Talkway - http://www.talkway.com - Talk more ways (sm) -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+