Message-ID: <25655asstr$965387402@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: "seanfarragher" X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 (Normal) X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 Importance: Normal Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Killers of Lost Dreams Date: Fri, 4 Aug 2000 07:10:02 -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: english, kelly From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon (new work up) TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher KILLERS OF LOST DREAMS: "MATADORES DE SUENOS PERDIDOS" Adventures of Mary Irish & Jane Sicily on the Planet Krypton HOW SUPERMAN JUMPED FROM THE ROOF OF THE ROCK CLUB "MATADORES" TO HIS DEATH PROVING, SO HE BELIEVED, THAT HE COULD RISE AGAIN. Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Thomas Farragher All Rights Reserved Kryptonite: Extra-terrestrial mineral that is impossible at ordinary temperatures and pressures by the rules of physical chemistry. In the superman myth kryptonite is both a source of life and death. Shall we say it is beyond good or evil, male or female? Year is 2024: There were two handsome, well-endowed women modestly undressed for July sitting at the last table of hotel-bar that rose up near the Snake River challenge to Ansel Adam's Grand Tetons. Appropriately, the club was called by the locals, "Matadores de Suenos Perdidos" (Killers of Lost Dreams) The club, like many famous landmarks in the US Federal Park System constructed in 2020 by the Morgan Company Inc., imitated the "Fall of the Universe" standard for decadence and depravity. D&D, known in the past as Dungeons and Dragons, had found more than a new association. The game lifted one veil of consciousness illustrated like Grimm's' fairy tales: no greater fatuous display off female genitalia could be constructed. Models of the cloud formations like the New Business Model, displayed in class jars, had been pickled with the seminal extractions of the failed freelancers. At that moment, "the Fall," as it was known, stretched the musical boundaries to become the anthem of the Popular Rave group, Marginal Intent. Because of the overpayment of participation fees, the planned and very formal suicide of 345 (liturgy by OMNI) by the sinking of a large raft in blood fed waters off the coast of the Coral Sea failed only because 24 people survived. It seems the sharks would not eat them. One of the survivors said that one of the sharks whispered to her that they were related. Further, the shark said, "I was her natural niece. It was that "darling Rave, as it was described, that was Prophet and script for the next thousand years. This interesting cultural advance, as a it was described by publicist from within the Rave organization, made human decline the operating system for a new network of self programming computers and networks. The Descent of Man and its his and her wardrobe made the old fashioned geek show a tame anachronism if one could compare historical phenomenon. Suicide in the year 2024 was considered socially acceptable and encouraged to support the human sink-holes like the most of the Matadores clubs that proliferated when alienation became ordinary sin one step up from Mortal or as one wag said, immortal. In 2011, the Department of Interior, by special exception of the US Congress, began leasing land in the park system to corporations to pay for maintenance of the Federal Park System. No one protested the rapid growth of commercial clutter. It was if the wilderness, no longer valued, was squandered as a more usual political fuel. Cost management and cost accounting, one index of life style, The US Federal government run by a consortium of private business knew that this grand lottery, or pyramid scheme, could not be sustained. The US Constitution amended finally amended in 2009 began that antisocial walk towards the take over of the Executive Branch by US Corp, Inc. The CEO of US Corp became with the much contested election of 2020, President of the United States affirming the direction of governments towards the full integration of new business model with a political process that was more representative of a more affluent but less intellectual middle class. Many claimed that a Constitutional amendment "was without sufficient "demonstration of new process" as the scheme was not sufficiently different (in consequence) from the system by which the US Post Office operated when it became a private business and lost its Constitutional authority." So ruled Chief Justice Manuel Perrante in his majority decision (7-2) of the US Supreme Court (July 3, 2019). MARY IRISH AND JANE SICILY FIND IN THE OTHER THAT WHICH IS CALLED "MURETE" DEATH HAS DOMINION AND LUST IS FIRST FACT AND AN "UNCOMMON" PSYCHOLOGY Imagine, getting drunk, watching old fashion lazar music streak red, blue, in a variety of sync, as your eyes searched over the edge of the 20th floor into the fog of dull city cars and taxis blaring in the traffic below like a lake of anger and dirty steam floating on par boiled macadam One woman, the much taller one, had auburn hair with gray eyes. She called herself Mary Irish. The other, dark and just as pretty with a touch of a turn to her mouth was Jane Sicily. Tonight, Mary wore a white silk blouse cut to the center revealing all but her nipples, and Jane's almost the same was made of magical material that made the garment transparent an opaque depending on the heat of her body. Jane's transparent plastic cloth blouse felt like silk. The material developed recently by a 26-year-old chemist who named the silk like cloth "Lucy Silk" after the inventor's girl friend. The make believe fantasy cloth quickly became known as Lucifer's silk. No matter what the origin of the cloth, or its revolutionary polymer chemistry, Jane's pregnant nipples stood up like erotic statues against a dark brown field in the naked room. Mary, Jane's girl friend for five years, could not keep her eyes off Jane and her blouse. Mary would turn away from Jane from time to time, almost surprised by her embarrassment, as Jane did, when Mary shifted her legs to expose her freshly shaven pubis sculpted, as Mary said, "like a heart with a red patch of floss." Every Sunday night, about nine thirty they would come back to this club, sit at this same table, and talk about the same guys they had fucked or would meet someday. It was girl and boy talk. Usually, it was all the same. Like many others, Jane and Mary came to "Matadores" not for the watered down booze, the fake music or the clutter of pick up lines and passed out memories. They, with the multitudes as chorus, gathered at the railing to watch folks jump from the roof top garden through the silent canopy of arc lights and air drives. The gusts of powerful air (kin to the anti gravity exhaust of the modern Jet plane) caught the folks that jumped to propel them upward. Caught by gymnasts employed by the hotel, the "heroes" returned to the roof of the club were celebrated as the matadors of death It was not a perfect system. Some of the jumpers you did not catch the cyclone. Only jumpers authorized by the hotel jumped with any hope for survival. It was known by "regulars" at the club that most of the successful jumpers wore a hidden computer that guided them through the gusts to safety. Others who jumped for personal reasons (and there were many of them) usually did not survive. Like most illusions, the protected jumpers knew that they were protected. It was "safer than a parachute jump" the management of the hotel advertised. It was quite a spectacle. Imagine jumping out of the sky near the Grand Tetons the Snake River winding in an arc below your fall. Many were tempted who were not authorized jumpers. For those not protected who jumped anyway few survived. Most of freelance jumpers who did not survive the free fall jump used self-programmed computers. Management did not try to prevent the unauthorized jumps. It served their interest to have some die. In fact, some of the contracted jumpers died. The system as designed was imperfect. Once a week or more frequently, "free lancers" as they were called, jumped off the roof proving again that stupidity and bravery are cousins. When you jumped, throwing your arms back, letting the wind enter your mind, keeping your feet together, which was considered a safety trick, making your body mass a more regular shape, you would tumble into oblivion. Wearing all the finery you are your ego or lack of one allowed you tumbled edge over edge listening to Beethoven or Bach played by your supporters (or paid worshipers) as your fare well anthem. Raising your eyes to God or Mammon as one survivor said in a recent interview, you felt at that pause of no return that your life and its works depended on your courage. Proving you could do it, using free fall parachute jumps for practice, "you felt the surge of magnificence," he said. "Living or dying," the man said, "did not matter. It was, as the God Wind said, the survivor jumper, a free lancer, said, reciting Wind's poems like he had written the mantra himself." He said, "it was partially sport and acceptable suicide." At least twice a week, usually on Friday night, at least one free lancer stood at the railing and tried to jump. No one would stop him. He had an entourage. Sometimes he did not jump, leaving the railing, most found the bar and got drunk. Most, if not all of the freelancers died, but that was the risk you took when you stood up at the railing pushed aside fear and let go as you tumbled down to become a footnote to history at the back doors of what some called a beautiful death. If you jumped, living or dying in the attempt, you placed yourself in the range of the Tetons and you believed, or at least you said you did, that your life had been or would be renewed. Many of the jumpers were like the actress Dorothy Bouchier, great, great granddaughter of the famous English actress Chili Bouchier. Meet Jane Sicily and Mary Irish Tonight at "Matadores de Suenos Perdidos" was no different. If you sat down just for a moment with Jane and Mary at their corner booth, hidden from most of the crowd, but in clear view of the space where the protective railing lowered to make it easier for the jumpers, you could hear the twenty-two year old Jane tell Mary talk openly about their sex lives. "This guy, you know," Mary said, as she played with the top edge of the blouse that barely covered her breasts, "fucked me so hard last week I felt it for three days. He was not subtle at all," she stopped for a second, lowering her hands to her best friend Jane who would be twenty-five in a few months. "I met here last week when you had to leave early, Mary continued, looking at Jane whose nipples shimmered as her body warmed making her blouse transparent. "That guy, stoned on his ass," Mary said, "made me come when he slapped my ass. Haven't had that done since we played DOM games in High School. Jane, content to look at the animated Mary as she talked, listened content to absorb the truth of bullshit as Jane often called it. Not saying one word, Mary continued. "The fucker was a shit, bottom line." Turned on by her story, Mary moved her legs back and forth in her seat. Wearing a very short white skirt, every time her legs moved, the skirt would ride up exposing her plum, as she called it, when she allowed it. Always in control, Mary left nothing to chance. If she moved her top, letting her breasts show pushing the small pears out, her breasts barely rippled the cloth that held them in. Mary continued, lighting a cigarette. "When I reached down to rip his nipples he pulled away. He didn't mind fucking my ass with his thick cock. He was just too big. No, really, trust me on this, he was too big." Doubt if I will fuck the selfish shit again. Next time some guy with a huge dick insisted on fucking my ass, I would insist that he let me fuck his ass with a strap-on first. Some kinky guys really like that. You knew one, Jane. I know you have one. Harness or double dildo. "Yes, both" Jane said, smiling, amused by Mary's story, Jane imagined how she seduced Mary that first time many years ago. Ignoring Jane, Mary rushed on. Jane leaned back, happy to be quiet, listening, and she encouraged Mary to continue. Getting back to the story, Mary continued. "If the guy let me do him with my harness, I would hurt him to the same degree he hurt me. If he were cool, when he did me again he either would hurt me or would be too gentle. Sympathy or rage, does it matter, Jane thought, pretending to laugh at Mary as she continued to mock sex, some man or men in general, Jane thought. Jane loved men and women. "I am a true bisexual she told her mother when she asked Jane if she would ever married. Her mother answered. "I am one too." Jane thought of that story as Mary continued. Jane interrupted Mary asked, "What happed with the guy last night," I was not there. As she spoke, Jane looked down at her transparent blouse shifting it slightly so as her nipples hardened, as the temperature rose, her magnificent breasts, my one vanity, she told everyone, dominated the room like the Tetons in the surreal landscape panorama background to both women. Stopping to take several drags on her cigarette that she just lit, "You promised to tell me when we talked on the phone this afternoon," Jane wanted Mary to do the talking. "You mean when you were getting fucked it yourself, dear Jane?" "Never mind, Mary. Please." "The guy I met here last night. I told you about him. I met him here last month during the great jump off. He was weird. He's a freelancer. Never met one before. They usually travel with their own troop. Just like the regulars here, they do not mix with the patrons. This guy is different, Mary said. He is softer and I am not sure I like him much. I felt sorry for him when I took him home, and besides I was horny, and he is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. All muscles when you look at him. When you touch, he is soft, female almost. Not very human. We might see him here tonight. I will introduce him. Want him for yourself? I share." "I don't like weak men," Jane said. Why would I want to fuck him or even let him make me come? It is true I do like strong-minded intellectuals. They can really take you, and are not going to let you continue with out a challenge. Say it like it is Jane, Mary said. They won't take your shit. I like them that way, but when it is over, I want them to come back to me. I will not go to them. No, I do not care if I am the one in control or not, I want them that way," Jane insisted as she looked towards the place at the edge of the room where the men and some women would jump tonight. "Who wants a pussy, Jane said, surprising Mary. Jane rarely used street talk. "If I wanted a sissy, a little boy, I'd find a slave in the yellow pages," Jane continued pleased with how she shifted her language. "Besides, Mary we like different men and yes, women." Jane never said "and women." The last phrase of the sentence trailed off. Gaining composure, realizing what she had just said, Jane said, "Isn't this the reason we get off so well together." It is more than being bisexual Jane thought, or getting over the fear of being with your own sex that first time. Jane crushed her black cigarette in the ashtray scattering the dust as she spoke. Why do I never say what I am thinking when it matters, she thought? "Yes," Mary said, "get off says it best darling." I don't really like sex with men when it gets too complicated. Just like a man in that way. After I come, and he comes, I want him to go the fuck home. Feel differently about women, but then I rarely go there, and when I do I want it perfect." Mary knew she had not told the complete truth. She preferred to project an image, Jane thought. Ironically, Mary was more active as a bisexual than Jane. Unlike Jane Mary denied her compulsion. Just having fun, she would say, when challenged. What Mary did Jane realized, looking at her now, talking about this or that in graphic sexual terms, was pretend to be straight. Jane believed that Mary did this, knowing the woman for ten years, to keep her life less clutter. Jane knew that Mary preferred women. Mary told Jane that one night when they were both drinking and smoking some good shit. When Jane asked Mary about what she had said the next day, Mary dismissed it. "Never said that," Mary told Jane. "You must have been hallucinating. We have to stop smoking and drinking." "We won't stop any of it, Jane remembered telling Mary who had laughed it off. Forgetting is the easy way out Jane laughed to herself remembering that Christmas party last year, and looking back at Jane who just said, "I love your blouse, Jane, you're gonna drive the fuckers here crazy. Think I may take my top off later. Jane looked at Mary, lowered her eyes, and told her how expensive the blouse had been. "I wanted one every since I saw that movie star Dorothy Boo (AKA Dorothy Bouchier). Jane hated small talk. "Mary, she said, "don't you find that you miss too much when you take on a mask, assume an attitude," digging at why Mary liked to push herself "back in the closet." Why can't she just say the word bisexual, Jane thought. Well, at least she is responsive. Why do I want her to say, "Look, I am bisexual, world. Take me." "Miss what," Mary said, cutting back into Jane's trance. "All you get from some fucken guys is strained conversation and bullshit pillow talk. You can't believe all men are liars, Jane said, speaking softly, slowly to keep Mary from jumping at her, trying to pound back as she often did. When Mary did that Jane usually got bored with Mary, and Jane tonight turned on by her girl friend intended to seduced Mary not that she believed that would be difficult. Jane loved how she and Mary looked together. Tall and short. Dark and light. Foul -mouthed slut and intellectual. Yet, we did switch personalities. That made the balance more than perfect, Jane sighed while Mary continued, listing the plus and minus qualities of many of their shared lovers. Jane struck by Mary's passionate descriptions remembered the videotape that they had shot of making love when they were in High School. We thought we were special, Jane thought. We even let the guys shoot the video, but we did not fuck them afterwards, Jane remembered. We locked ourselves in the bedroom and told them to fuck each other. Mary did wake up early, and I found her locked with both the guys. "Guys are shits, Mary continued her litany. Jane, interrupting Mary said, "I like the connections no matter how forced." Jane beautiful face and eyes danced while she spoke, lowering her hand to caress the inside of Mary's upper arm the patters of letters that spelled out "sex me." "What? I am not full of shit. Sure," Mary said, sitting back, annoyed, but not wanting to get Jane in one of her, I am smarter than you moods. "Men never acknowledge how we let them escape judgment when their I am the best fucker in the world performance sucks," Mary said, "looking hard into Jane's eyes, but putting her hand on top of Jane's keeping her hand there when Jane started to move away. "I know you have stroked the ego of a man who could not get it up. Why do you let him pretend he likes sucking cock and clits more than fucking? You know they do not. "Some do, Jane said, moving her fingers to the under cup of Mary's small pear breasts, "I just love a man who is honest. "I know if I am even partially responsible for some of the mask, how can I not expect men and yes women too to give back when and if I cannot give. "Give back. Guys know themselves. Being like them is the only way. Take and fuck 'em up first. Jane, my darling, how can you be so naive." "Not naive to believe some people are real," Jane openly, tenderly massaged Jane's breast, watching Mary close her eyes, tighten her thighs, putting her head back, she let Jane continue, saying only, "don't stop," when she thought Jane was stopping. Feeling is dangerous for Mary, Jane thought. Mary sensing Jane, knowing she could often hear Jane's mind not as words but as mood, stood up forcing Jane to stop. Going back to the conversation, almost as if the caress of her breasts had not happened, said. "Sure. Swear you are not stoned now, and I might believe that the hotel's regular jumpers do it without any protection. That life is not fixed. Fate contrived. What is my responsibility? How do I both acknowledge fate and contrary to reason accept responsibility and consequences for what I choose to do." You remember our conversations in college. You always believed in free will, and I in the unavoidable fates. Barnard was good for that. Why did we go to the same school Jane? We do things too well together. "I know I was selfish." Jane answered. "That is why I prefer the company of women." "Sure we are," Mary caressed Jane's hand reaching out to really hold both of them bring their hands up to Jane's mouth so Jane could kiss and then suck for just a moment the tips of Mary's fingers. "Fucking guys," Mary continued, "we get to clean the bed, wash the dishes, suck them off, make them come. We get the illusion of being powerful. Don't think they want to give any of it up." "We are more fucken powerful," Jane said. "What shit, are you kidding me, Mary laughed?" Jane suddenly pulled her hands back and turned away from Mary, and said nothing. "Fuck no," Mary was intent now in winning her points. "Don't you just love the way you can make them do what you want just by rolling your ass to the left or right pretending to screw, but if you are genuine, enjoy the quiet of the after shocks, and just want to be still afterwards, they squirm, feel guilty, and are anxious to get up and out of there. Well, so do I. I want to be rid of them too at the proper time. I really like faking them out," Mary said, going in circles, repeating her arguments, knowing she had no control, but consciously not admitting any weakness. Lighting up another cigarette helping herself to one of Jane's, Mary continued relentlessly, "Have you ever tried to fake hard breathing," "Exhausting and looks shitty, doesn't it. I practice," Mary bragged. "That is how I get it just right. I can twist my ass in a subtle screw; they always come when I want them. Never tell them you got too bored to come. You know what I mean." "Why bother," Jane offered. "If you have to fake it, what's the point?" "It feels good to fuck 'em up at times," Mary blew smoke away from Jane, feeling sure of her, thinking she had won. "Keeps the game tighter," Mary finished. "Oh, I see. It is all a game. That's "fucked up' (saying the phrase intently) and you know it, Mary. How absurd. Do you really enjoy being poked and used by some fucker who wants only to get off? Worse, do you want to be one of them." "II know," interrupting Jane, Mary said, "never tell a man you faked it. Looking around the room, nodding, realizing that Mary will never understand that there are times when all relationship is power, and times when there is more to it. "OK," Jane said, anticipating Mary, "You know my problem. I am not sure of anything anymore. All that I believed is like the jumpers finding solace in death or faked heroism. What can you believe? We are here. We enjoy the excitement. We come here to meet men and women, live vicariously through their struggle, so we can fake one of our own. Jane stopped speaking in mid sentence and Mary turned in her chair putting her legs up on another chair, leaning back, opening her legs, and flashing her cunt at this guy and Jane who sat a few feet away. "Yes, I want only truth and not I believe there is none," Jane continued, "I know you enjoy it, Mary. I saw you and the guy. You know the brothers we fucked together in Rio last year. Did not understand a word of their Portuguese but they had rough hands and seemed as if they never got soft. I like that sometimes like you I want the illusion without the truth of it all. Now, I am lost, just like the name of this sad fucken club we attend like church at least twice a week. The locals gave it that name." Locals, what the fuck do you mean, Jane. You know, Mary, the kitchen help. The unwashed we ignore. The sad fuckers who work ten hours a day so we can suck rich cock. "My, my Jane what has happened to you. Never heard you curse like this?" "You just are never there," Jane said, upset now, pulling her hands back from Mary's. " I am never there. Shit, I am the only one who understands the new rules. Earth to fucking Jane, where the fuck are you?" Suddenly Mary's mood changed. She had been there before. If you made Jane angry, you lost the night. "Isn't worth it," Mary said, leaning over to Jane, placing her head on Jane's shoulder, Mary looked upward at Jane who was not surprised by Mary's abrupt change. In response, after a few moments, Jane wrapped her hands around Mary's face and tickled that spot behind her left ear that Mary loved to be caressed. Jane hated and loved when Mary switched, gave it up, rolling towards her belly up like a bitch dog. Having listened to Mary's pretense at power, Jane felt uncomfortable with the change in position, but she brushed Mary's hair from her eyes. Teasing now, Jane continued, aggressive, she exposed the brown edge of Mary's very comfortable nipples. Finally after a moment, Mary reached up and kissed Jane lightly on the mouth lingering softly opening Jane's lips, and just as suddenly as she kissed, Mary pulled back, putting the back of her hand up to her own lips. "You taste like fucking," Mary said. "I told you on the phone I was engaged all afternoon," Jane laughed. "In fact I was fucking him while we talked and planned tonight." "I knew it was a man. You taste like cum and toothpaste. How weird, but I like it" "What an imagination," Jane teased back. "You are faking it. I really brushed my teeth. I am very clean you know." "Not like me," Mary added. I like funk. "Not sure about that Mary," Jane said, choking and laughing as she sipped her drink. I loved making love to you after I watched you make love to that guy. You know what I liked best. Watching him get off ogling us. What an ellipse, no an flattened sphere like the earth." Jane played with napkins, while she talked drawing abstract doodles that seemed calm given the rise and fall of the conversation. Maybe I should just take her home tonight, Jane thought as Mary continued to talk so everyone within ten feet could hear what she said. At this place, most did not care. They were there for the show, the jumpers. At that moment, a freelancer had just left the railing. Said he needed to pee. Leaving he did not return. Some of us do have good sense, Jane though. Watching Mary smile and greet some guys they both knew, Jane thought, I love sex with her, Jane thought. Mary asked. "Why are you staring and laughing at me," and saying that Mary pulled sharply at Jane's arm jostling Jane's very large breasts stretching through invisible silk. "I love that blouse, so fucken evil," Mary said. "I want some." Jane took Mary's hand, after gracefully removing Mary's cigarette, and pulled it to her breasts, letting Mary feel the transparent silk again. Mary just listened and said nothing. "Yes, " Jane whispers, can you feel the child in my womb growing to my nipples? Mary did not know that Jane had confirmed the pregnancy. "Just found out for sure today," Jane said. They said I must be in my fourth month." How did they miss it for two months? I wanted it so much." "Did you use the Sperm Bank down at the Top of the cliff? That is the agency April had used. I am not ready for a kid, but when I am, that is it." "Bill, Mary's Brother, helped as you know," Jane added, almost as an after thought. "He made love to me before and after we went to the clinic to get it done. Yes, I knew I was taking a risk with paternity but he used a rubber both times. I hate condoms, but I needed something else. Maybe reality, who the fuck knows?" "What if the fucker broke?" "Then it would have been very interesting before the DNA came it. Bill was great. He has three kids and a wife, and I am not sure what they would have said. "I wish it had been my brother," Mary said, sincere, and perplexed by the change in conversation. Yes, that would have been nice, but maybe too close. He turned me down. Said your sister-in-law would leave him "She's a stupid cunt," Mary said. "Now, who is putting down women," Jane shook her head. "Nerve mind," you know who I got," that Cuban Ball player, "Domincanus" -- The one who quit baseball for what they are calling now legitimate porn. I picked him out of a catalogue. I had to sign a release of course. Cost almost $20,000 and I could get as many "shots" as I needed until it was done. "For that money, you could have just fucked him, Mary looked at Jane's breasts." "I love that Jane said. "What is that?" When you stare and trace my breasts. Remember the models and the contour drawing we did at the League. Remember when that girl came up to us and asked if we were lesbians, and how embarrassed we became. Ignoring Jane, Mary was thinking of that handsome Domincanus and his huge cock. Beautiful Porno, Mary said, repeating what was obviously in her mind. "He probably sucks," Jane said, "slam bam guy," Jane said. "Who knows. Did you know he has blue eyes and very dark skin when he tans? He is the most graceful man I have ever seen. Actually, come to think of it, his eyes are transparent like my blouse. I wonder if his eyes get dark when he is cold," Jane seemed almost serious. While the women talked, Mary gently played absent-mindedly with Jane's breasts. Jane's torso moved slowly to the pace and rhythm of Mary's hands feeding the ache inside the sway of the music. As Mary touched the underside of Jane's breasts, Mary opened and closed her legs. "You make me feel wonderfully odd," Mary said. I can feel you and the whole room watching. I love it. It makes me want to come so loud the whole bar would be our witness." Jane did not say anything. Both women were silent. It was obvious they were looking inside the Tetons and the white clouds that covered the mountains in summer When the woman screamed after jumping off the roof, Mary turned into Jane, silently questioning. "How can we let them," Jane answered. Feeling the hypocrite, neither Jane nor Mary had run to the ledge like most of others at the bar. It all happened quickly. The woman rolled her legs over the ledge and without saying a word let go. Ignoring the excitement, but noting that she had looked away from the hotel jumpers gathering around the railing, Jane led Mary's hand her belly that was pierced in three places. Jane had many piercings over the years, but had tired of them except the one in her navel, and another in the hood of her clit. Jane had bought the ring as a present for Jane's birthday. "Is there anything wrong," Jane asked. "You're shaking," Mary said, "No nothing at all," Mary's voice suddenly had changed from the pursuit of pleasure to the search for faith. "I just wonder what will come of us, sometimes. I believe in only myself. No, forget it, I don't even believe in you and I" "Philosophy my dear," Jane said, softened her voice. "Just laughing at how absurd we are. Here we are out on the town wanting some new and good sex, and we are caught up in this silly silent background dialogue about suicide and mountains and, yes, feeling each other up, teasing but not really wanting to be alone together." Off center, Mary answered whispering and nibbling and licking at Jane's belly ring, "how could I not want you" "I love you Mary," Jane said, whispering so it would linger longer. You are fucked up, Mary said, perplexed by Jane. Always so fucken serious. Can we just have fun? As she spoke, Mary pulled away from Jane, crossing her arms, she pretended to look askance, and Mary said, "what about me. You can have mine any time. Yours are at least two sizes larger. You have lost weight. What are they now? 38 D. I lost 30 pounds. I am much shorter than you." Pausing, Jane suddenly said. "What are you talking about Mary. I do not love your breasts. I love you. "Well I love your tits, and that's it, Mary mocked. Come on girlfriend, Mary bit her lips, and pretended to dance, be loose. "How could I not love yours," Mary said, cupping her breasts in her hands. "These are puny compared to yours." At that moment, Mary and Jane started to laugh. Jane first. Sometimes self discovery runs into a dead end, and listening to them, you couldn't help notice that their talk seemed as if two streams of darling, sexy egos were spread thin over the veneer of the mindless fuck music that blared off the edge of the Ansel Adams landscape. All of this was obvious foreplay and prelude to the folks who would jump to a new life or death later that night. At that moment, Jane thought of the jumpers, and realizing that they gathered in an invisible room below, they waited for eternity. I admire their bravery, Jane thought. I must admit that it really turns me on almost as much as Mary, or Robert, when I am in the mood, for a man who knows how to at least be patient. II. HOURS LATER THAT SAME NIGHT Mary, speaking softly, but gesturing heavily, holding her thin, dark " blunt" so the smoke would waft away, finally said, after pausing too long on the brink of desperation, "I always get off center when I am drinking too much." As Mary swallowed the last of her fifth Tequila Sunrise, "Yes, I want that," Mary said to herself swaying into the background of the music as if she were part of the notation. "What did you say," Jane asked. Ignoring the question, Mary watched the men and women shift the mountains of their bodies. Mary pointed out the sexiest to Jane illustrating faults with distorted facial gestures and beauty with fake sighs. It was all too obvious and Jane was bored as usual -- but not exactly with Mary. Jane realized she wanted Mary. I need to come, and all this philosophy is getting in the way. No way, Jane said to herself, I am not going to mess this up. When Mary spoke, Jane's mouth open slightly, almost sexy, and she would say nothing, and then speak as if the words were a test of disorder or that nothing we all endure. "You know you have beautiful eyes," Jane said, teasing Mary with a trite come-on. Mary, almost drunk, ignored Jane, but said. " I like my eyes. They always connect, and why the come on bullshit now, Jane." "Yes, I do, but you don't." "Don't what"? "You know want romance. That is what you say." Mary couldn't stop laughing at Jane. Jane wished she could say, "fucken tits, fucken A" like that stupid cowboy and his sister that she had met when she tagged along with Mary when Mary shot that convention at Vegas. Mary was a fair but not artistic photographer. She made money on western shots and imitation Ansel Adams. That guy was so vulnerable and full of himself, Jane remembered. He had told her that he and sister often took vacations together. Neither of us are married he said. We just like to hang out. She remembered as she watched Mary shoot the couple that Mary seemed very turned-on. When Jane asked her about it later, Mary said, that guy is fucking his sister. She told me. Asked me to join them, which I did. Mary cares about nothing, Jane realized. That is why I want her. I care about so much, Jane thought. Jane was a Professor of Psychology at the University of Arizona. What else could I do, Jane said when asked by Mary why she liked teaching. Jane, two or three hours into their night out, but not as drunk as Mary, watched her younger friend's breasts loose in too large blouse daring Jane to touch them again. From one instant to the next, Jane would study the nipple or a line on Mary's throat caught in the shadows of the lights flashing in the club or the reflection of the mountains. Jane nodded watching Mary as she pushed her legs apart, lifting the short skirt higher, taking hold of her cunt, thinking of its space, wanting to separate the lips further as she watched Mary watch not only her but at least four guys leaning over the table now. Mary pulled back. "You're gonna cause a riot, Mary, Jane laughed. Stop it. Put your cunt away." What a wonderful word, "cunt," Jane thought. I remember when I never could say that word and not have sister lecture me for hours about being used by men, Jane thought. Distracted by Mary's semi-private show, Jane also pulled her not quite as short skirt down over her knees. "Look at that guy over there," Jane said. "He's the only one not looking at us." Jane said. "Why is the fucker sporting that obviously fake mustache and why wear a business suit here." "Maybe it is so perfect the mustache is real," Mary said. "I like his thick graceful hands. He is too handsome to be imperfect; you know what I mean. Anyway, he is avoiding us. At least he refuses to make eye contact. I know I have tried several times." "How could you darling, I thought you wanted me," Jane played up to Mary. "Sure, Yes, of course, Mary dear," Jane said. "Right now I am watching you suck that fucken jock half asleep at the bar. God, I love to watch you stir 'em up." Lost in fantasy, Jane did not realize (or maybe she did) how her hand was lost between her legs deep in her cleft of her cunny. In the middle of Jane's flight of fancy, while Jane imagined the heft and mass of the guy's cock and how Mary was about to suck the tip, almost on cue, lightning flashed out over the patio, seemingly a fake gesture if that was possible. Jane and Mary clearly loved nature and believed all the artifacts of the natural world were physically real and any fantasy conjured. Immediately after that first flash, Mary, felt quite alone and suddenly very small. Turning to Jane, Mary asked simply, "I need a cigarette. How about you?" Jane handed the almost empty pack to Mary, took one herself, but accepted a light from some bloke who put his head in at the right time. Not exactly the come I imagined, Jane laughed to herself realizing how she had been interrupted. Turning away from "helpful hands," as she called men who liked to light them up, when she was sure of her light, Jane turned back to Mary and away from the guy who had burned his hand. He left quickly without an exit line. "Maybe, he got it out of a box," Jane giggled. "You know the guy with the fake upper lip." "What did you say, Jane," Mary said, self consciously looking down and pushing her tits together, admiring them, letting them close tighter so the effect of the cleavage was severe and the bands of the blouse would push up from the flesh revealing more of the inner surface and its sweep. Jane imagined the mountain as her mask, and talking to herself, she felt the pull of its core in her uterus. I know I do, she said. "What the fuck you talking about lady," Mary shook her head just a bit lost in the mixture of internal and external events. Mary had no idea what Jane meant or had seen. It was all a blur in the simpler sexual imagination of Mary, but then again how could Mary know what Jane had thought, but she did. When Mary looked, the man with the fake lip was gone, and Mary had no clue as to the name of the fucking guy or what Jane had said. "That's nice," Mary said, about nothing. Suddenly, Jane said, very excited and animated, "You see that other shit faced guy. The one wearing a black tee shirt and those new capes the guys think make them look powerful when and if they jump." Mary waved at him and said to Jane. "Yes, yes, I know what you are going to say. Yes, he is too cute to be worth anything." "Have you fucked him," Jane asked. "He's that weird guy I told you about. He did come here tonight. I told him I would fuck him again if he did. We could do him together. " "You never told me about him, Jane looked at Mary, lifting Mary's hands again. Mary and Jane continued their banter as the guy happy to be almost invited pulled an empty chair up to the table pushing him between the women who shifted slightly annoyed that he had tried to sit between them. They did not let him. "This one," Mary said, pointing to the guy, as if he were a painting, and not the man who was almost sitting in their laps, "told me last night after we fucked (yes, it was after) that he was a freelancer and would jump the roof tonight. He said he would dedicate the jump to my desire. He claims, get this, that he does not use the anti gravity, he floats before he hits the ground. Mary knew that the professional jumpers had a trick or two to give them some chance. What could this fucker do to reverse gravity without the device? "Are you dead or alive now," Jane asked the man wearing the cape made of the same material as Jane's blouse, making the dark cloth both transparent and reflective, and Jane leaned into Mary so the man could see how Mary and Jane were connected. "Jane this guy can really move his ass," Mary added, taking hold of the guy's hand and placing it her lap. Holding Jane's other hand also, Mary looked back and forward at the man and then Jane, enjoying the absolute ebullient affection of the pair. Jane not usually jealous of the way Mary touched the man, said, coming from no where, annoyed with Mary, perhaps wanting to embarrass her, said "I saw the way you fucked that guy in the back seat that time we went to that fucken drive in. When was that, last September? "What are you talking about, Mary was confused, startling the man by her tone, as Jane pushed Mary's blouse open exposing both breasts. At first, Mary resisted Jane, and pulled her arms up and the man, looked from one woman to the other, wondering who would blink first. The man delighted by the sexual tension could not believe his good fortune. Wrestling for just a few seconds both women stopped almost at the same time and on cue paused to wipe away the intensity from their and palms and face. Mary while she adjusted herself, without turning her back, quickly released the back of her blouse. Taking the top off, Mary loving wearing nothing. At the beach, she always swam completely in the nude. Wearing nothing is the same as taking off a jacket, Mary said, giving her blouse to the man, telling him to keep it for her, as a talisman for his jump. Jane virtually nude herself smiled at Mary, but the guy, breaking the space ran the back of his hand down Mary's breast, letting the edge of his palm lift it. He did it gracefully, casually, and then he did the same thing to Jane carefully lifting the transparent silk. "You're breathing hard," Jane said to the guy. "Fuck yes," he said. "Look at what's here. How can you not breathe hard? Fuck. I want you both," he said. "Right here, now. Climb into my skin and jump with me. You will feel my freedom." After talking about freedom, the man did something that neither of the women expected. Pulling his cock out, he held it in his hands. Mary took the man's cock in her hand, and started to lean over, but she could not stop laughing, and Jane at first tried to pull her back, but then stopped. "No way," Mary said. "I am not going to suck it. You want it too much." "Why not, "Jane said. "We're were doing the same thing exposing ourselves without asking anyone here if they are offended. "Good for him," Jane said to herself, smiling inside, but not showing it. "What the fuck you laughing at," he said, standing up, turning to first Mary who was laughing very loud. "You know my cock well." "Put it away," Mary shrieked. "Fuck no, not now, I am not drunk enough, besides I am waiting for your real show," alluding to his promise to jump off the roof with the professional jumpers. "I'm not used to being laughed at," the guy obviously had a sense of humor, said, almost too softly. "If you want to both fuck me," he said, "that can be arranged." Jane intrigued by his offer, turned to him, putting her hands on the his shoulders, brushing her tits against the back of his hand, she said, "Sorry, I thought (nodding to Mary) I was looking at a dead man. Not into fucking dead cocks this season." Not surprised by Jane's wit, the man, almost spoke, but first Jane turned back to Mary, she put her hand on his cock pulling him further into the threesome, but teasing him, "saying, I doubt you will get any of our ass tonight, shit, I know I am stoned out of my head, Mary, but you're really excited. Maybe we should." Mary startled put her hand over Jane's mouth, but Jane shook her hand away, isn't she Mr.? You do have a name. She is turned on. You must be able to smell her, Jane looked hard at Mary and the man and laughed at the absurd picture they made in the middle of a bar - not that anyone cared. "Never mind, Mary said. "He is mine, not yours," Jane teased pulling on the man's hand swallowing the whole hand edging it closer to her the cleft between her legs. Held there up to the wrist, by the hot clasp, not that he wanted to leave, the man tried to push Mary's thigh open which he did when he bit Mary's neck. Mary surprised by his tenderness, wanted him with Mary. I hope he makes it, Jane thought. I like how he was tender and not rough. His hand felt like a woman's, Jane thought. I wonder if he has courage, Jane thought, to just reach pick me up and take one of us right here on the dance floor. What a fantasy. The man said and did nothing, but moved the hand deeper into Mary's crotch, making Jane lean over closer so she could watch. Jane, in a better position to see how he pulled at his crotch with one hand and Mary's sex with the other, said, "Mary, I think he wants to jerk off more than make us come." "Sure do the man said, anything you want." Mary said, "let him do it here first for us. Let me see him come, and with the word "come," Mary pushed the man's hand out from between her legs, and smirked. Jane turned to the man, understanding that Mary was a tease and had changed her mood, "will it rise on the third day or what. Didn't Mary brag that you could jump off the hotel roof and not die." "I can," he said. "I have. I did it last year." "Mary was in Paris last year and I was teaching in New York last year, finishing my doctorate. Oh, you mean that fraudulent anti-gravity wind that keeps you safe or dazzles us while you are helped by the hotel staff off the lower ledge to prove your bravery, Jane mocked hoping the man was not a fraud. Do you work for the hotel, Mary asked. No, I am a freelancer, He said Is the Priest present, Jane asked? No, I have done it. I can. I use another way. Hasn't that been proven to be so rare it happened only once in a thousand years," Jane added. You know why we come here, don't you? Twenty-four people jumped from the roof of this building last year. Eighteen died. That is the locals call it "Matadores de Suenos Perdidos." Mary jumped in. No, Mary, it was more than that. Remember that TV show that said another ten also took their lives in other ways showing their devotion to the jumpers. I want this man, Jane thought, but why. He very quickly had assumed a protected and special status with Jane If not Mary. Staring back a them more assured, able to focus, and biting his lips, he put his hand on Jane's hand, and was so carefully tender, she instinctively moved closer to him, but when he moved closer, Jane alarmed that she might offend Mary, pulled back. Jane surprised by his gentleness, said. "Get the fuck out of here you fucken bullshit artist." She said it gently as an obvious tease. I said what I thought I should say, Jane told Mary later. Challenged, pulling out news clippings, the man showed them the story of how he had survived suicide when he had jumped last year. No, I am, he said, superman. Looking at the article, actually reading it, Jane said. "It says here you survived suicide because you bounced off two canopies and onto the roof of a convertible. It also says you almost died from your fall. Not exactly expecting anyone to actually read the article, the man said, "let me see you jump off the roof, and then turning to Mary putting his arm around her, he said, speaking directly to Mary. "We can go hand in hand. You know your breast will flatten out from the pressure of the air when you fall. He really looks weird, but so wonderful to jump without thought of consequences. "That's the secret," he said. "If you fear death, you will die. If you take it on, you can live." Jane startled by the man claim to be the mythical superman said, "You don't expect someone, nor do I want you to say that you can like some ancient "superman" 'leap tall buildings in a single bound. "You're not serious, are you, you fucker," Mary added her retort, as she felt the man's cock thicken again having put her hands on him again as she thought, he was so warm. "That he is," Mary seemed obsessed. "No Jane," Mary squealed and then sighed, "I said he came at the most inopportune time, if you know what I mean. I never did let him come where he wanted. Why do you guys insist on messing up the bed?" "I really can jump and live," the man said. "You're full of shit," Mary got back in his face. "Do not cut his balls off too far down," Jane cautioned. "We may need him. Sir, Jane taking an officious tone, said "wouldn't you rather have us than jump tonight?" "Fuck no, Jane," Mary stood up. "No fucken way. I want to see him jump first. Fuck later," Mary said, pretending to be more hard ass than the tone she used. "I must have some proof first before I fuck superman with or without you Jane." Jane had started to walk to the railing. Well, you coming. Jump. Do it. Or you can fuck our minds and bodies if you have enough left, and saying that, Jane reached up and kissed the man biting his cheek when she pulled away." "No way, not yet. Too much confusion jumping during dinner, the man seemed to be trying to get out of Jane's trap. "Can't. I need the money. My sponsor insists on jumps twice a year. No one really dies you see. Except for me, it is all completely a fake." "You're bullshit," Jane said, feeling very sad, looking away when she caught Mary's eye who seemed to be saying let's get out of here. Without any preamble, "here, I'll show you," he said and with that last phrase, the tall, thin man carefully moved his chair, shuffling it, so he could look into Jane's eyes and then realizing he was talking to the wrong woman, he turned back to Mary, and then back to Jane. "What are you doing," Mary laughed at the man. "I gain my strength from both of you," he said, stuffing his cock back in his pants and zipping up. "Fuck him," Jane pretended disdain. "Talk to me, Mary. Look here at my eyes. He's full of shit" Here he comes, finally Jane thought. What bullshit, but he is so fucken real, what the fuck's wrong with Mary? Why is she looking at the shit? I am here. I am real. He is a sad shit with a nice ass. Gently, taking Jane's faces hand, looking into her eyes (the woman almost broke out in laughter), the dark man rushing forward told both women now one at a time that they were the most beautiful, stunning creatures he had ever seen. It was a stereo production. He even said he might love them all forever. "Every fuck two women, Jane turned to the man, can you come at least twice?" Can your tongue handle it; Jane mocked the man and then Mary for fucking his bullshit dick. "I think you are both frauds," Jane said, but what the hell, and she pulled the man into her lap taking him away from Mary. "The man answered not quite sure who was speaking to who, said, did it with my girl friend and her cousin once," he confessed. Jane could not believe how she shook this guy up. Mary was surprised too. She thought the guy in love with himself, not that Mary liked this quality. "Shut up, Jane half kissed him. Starting to take his face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks, amazed he let her. "Not you ass hole, she whispered to the man. Girl friend here first. Do not get it up too much, fucker, Jane said to the man. "She has never fucked in a threesome. I would have heard first." "Yes, I did, Jane. No lie. With Paul and his brother. I was seventeen. Remember how we used to hang out with Paul's crowd. "You fucker," Jane said, ignoring the man again who stood there gathering his will to jump. "I did not know you then and you know it. I just thought you were an ordinary slut not a ho, laughing. "Why didn't you tell me that night when we wrote down the list of all the guys we had fucked? I know we were drunk. I even told you how I fucked Paul while you were dating him. You forgave me and told me how you had fucked my older brother at that pool the summer before we became friends. I loved it and told you how my brother and I had fooled around. You told me about how you and your sister had played with your mother's toys." As Jane spoke, she kept hitting Mary on the shoulder, looking easily at Mary's nipples, and Mary shifted, opening her legs, so Jane could see more and more of her excitement. "No fucken way," Mary finally answered Jane. You could not get it up twice for me; she grabbed the man's zipper trying to open it again. "One of us would get the too soft fuck that was like slightly warm coffee." Disgusted, Mary and Jane turned their back on the man, when he moved towards them one at a time, they each pushed him away, and when Jane refused, he almost fell backward off his chair. Not used to being rejected the man was disgusted too, and he started to walk away but not towards the railing where he could have stopped the conversation by jumping. Jane and Mary laughed and their bodies shimmered. A slight sheen appeared on Mary's upper lips and her mouth parted in slow motion as she smoked a dark cigarette very slowly drawing in drag after drag. While Mary smoked Jane kept hitting Mary on her shoulder, but with each blow landed softer until Jane stopped allowing her hand to knead the shoulder, moving to Mary's neck, making her wince, and finally pulling away, Mary said "stop," but not really meaning it, she moved closer to Jane. "So you fucked them both at once," Jane repeated. "I know," Mary commented to Jane, "just like some old fashioned porn flick. I hated it in my ass. He would not stop when I beat at him. Just kept doing it. I felt raped, but afterwards, I liked it. I ached." "See," Jane leaned back to Mary. "See what"? Mary did not catch it, and she offered, "Yes, I know, I liked it more the second time when I did it with the three of them." "Three, the story gets better, the man added, walking back to the women ready to give it one more try. He looked almost like a man who had found a secret reserve. "Shut the fuck up," Jane said to the man. I saw three guys jerk off once. Wouldn't let them do it on me." The Man watched the conversation. With each sharp exchange between the women he appeared more and more eager, and with his interest, Jane became the greater tease pulling from Mary more and more details of her sexual exploits until finally the man, so aroused, reached over and touched Jane's thigh putting his hand between her legs to cup her cunt. Mary smacked the man. "Get the fuck away from her," she said. Jane looked at the man, shrugged her shoulder and told Mary that she really liked his hands. "Not as good as yours, but great for a man," Jane said. "Sorry, she said to the man," moving away from him, getting up, pulling the other chair up to Mary on the other side of the table, and leaning down she put her mouth on Mary's exposed nipple, licking it and pulling a string of her spit from the stub of it making a string that glistened. "You fucken cock teasers," the man said, speaking softly, getting up, pulling his shirt off to show his pecks. Mary thought, here we go. "He had to prove his point after all," Mary told Jane in their next day post event analysis. Did you see how he carefully threading himself through the crowd, standing for just a second at the railing. When he put one leg over the edge, the shine on his chest was magnificent, Jane added. I never thought he would actually do it, Mary said, and I thought what "a hot dog." When he casually leaped out over the patio edge -- just as he had promised Mary before she let him fuck her, I really did not believe he did it. I ran to the railing thinking there was some trick and he would be hanging by a piece of rope. When we got there, we actually saw nothing. How could you? I was almost afraid that the mob of folks who has also rushed to the railing would crowd us until we joined the man at the bottom of the pit. At first, as we saw on the security cameras, he floated down 14 flights, but then, at the end of his drop, he speeded up, his cape blowing dramatically until he hit the pavement without exception. No one saw the drama of the cape except the cameras. No one had the chance to hear the man expel death from his mouth as his skull melted into the ground hitting the pavement hard. If the man could have looked back up at the woman on the moment he hit, he would not have seen Mary and Jane, somewhat serious, wonder at his feat and outcome. Like many of the others, Jane and Mary were too late to catch the show and the splatter of brains was inhuman waste after all. To their credit, at least, Mary and Jane did leave their seats and push their way to railing to watch the stop action photo of the action below that would appear on XCAUSE news on the Internet. Did I wish that Jane thought? "Yes, I almost did, but not really smiling," she said to herself. "He really wanted me," Mary said softly aloud, but no one but Jane, heard her. "No Mary, Jane said, he wanted to live." Mary and Jane quietly walked away from the railing, shaking their heads, as if everything had happened. That euphoria did not last long. Again, they sat down in their same seats, the man's shirt on back of the chair. At first, Jane thought, but did not say, that the action of the man jumping was part of some bizarre movie sequence being filmed to demonstrate the new digital video powers of mental improvisation in "true life action dramas." "See, what some guys will do to get laid," Mary lighting up another, shook her breasts and hair, finally draining her beer, she swallowed Ritalin to counter the reds she had taken earlier. Mary's silence in contrast to Jane's conversation seemed out of character. Jane noticed it. "What's the matter"? "Nothing," Mary said. "I know your mind. What gives?" "Nothing and I mean it. I never expected him to jump. I put it back." "What did you put back"? "Nothing. Leave me the fuck alone." "Nothing, you said you put something back. What the fuck you talking about." Get the fuck away from me, Mary said, and she started to walk away from Jane. "Ok," Jane backed down. She knew Mary was stubborn. When she spoke that way, Jane knew Mary would not say another word. "Must be what I am drinking or not fucking, Jane said, but "this great guy" just jumped off the roof. We really do not care do we, and Jane faked a smile, and looking around the room slowly, she observed how the noise in the room had changed if they had not even if some canned music continue to play. Mary expected Jane to keep at her, and was surprised when Jane did not repeat her question. Mary heard Jane (but Jane was silent) "What did you put back"? When Jane did not press her questions, Mary so out of balance, began to put her blouse back on and obviously shaken up, and a hard time getting it on. She couldn't. Stopped and looked at Jane for help. It was almost as if the disorder of Mary's body was greater than the confusion in the room. As a chain reaction, and wanting to be supportive, but never admitting to weakness, Jane also fussed with her own tits, wishing she had on some clothes. Amazing the gestures, we nervously conjure, Jane thought. Suddenly aware of her body and its warmth, Jane imagined the heat emptying from the body of the man dead at the bottom of the pit. "My breasts are alive," Jane said, softly, to Mary who watched Jane shake hers. Not to be outdone, Mary giggled mocking the schoolgirl she had remembered, and shook hers until they seemed as if they were riding the air in slow motion but descending into tears they just stopped reacting and looked at the crowd and its pretense of riot and collapsed inside until Jane would pull them back as she always did. After that symbolic orgasm, Mary and Jane helped the other get straight. If anyone had noticed, which was not likely considering the events, they might have thought both women took much too long. "You have great hands," Mary said to Jane who turned did not turn away from the obvious compliment. "Have any more of those pills or that good weed left, I have this guy Paul coming over tonight, and I want to..." Mary spoke as if the guy she had fucked to death last night to pardon an expression had not jumped to his death nor that she and Mary had just accepted that they made love in an extraordinary way. "Jane," Mary spoke again, louder, intentionally changing the subject again, "we couldn't see if he floated like he said he might." "He didn't float in the marvelous manner of balloons," Jane smirked. "You know the movie. The one were Jeff Artis is born again in the body of the woman who he fucked just before he was murdered. Wasn't it called, "Reincarnated?" You know where she fights the fear of the infant sucking or how she wanted to kill the infant in her womb suspecting that it was her lover him coming to her in a dream." Ignoring Jane, "Yes, but Mike (the first time we heard the man's name) must have gone in head first. It happened all too fast. What the fuck did he say, I can't remember all of it, but . . . he did say he had done it before" and with that Mary lit up another, and suddenly asked the guy sitting at the next table, if he knew the name of the band that had just played. When he asked her to dance, she wasn't surprised, but he was, when she said no, " I am not really interested in dancing now, but maybe later," smiling in just the right way, letting the guy know well maybe but maybe not. It depends, Mary thought, on what happens later if she invites Mary up to sleep over. Laughing to herself at the thought of a teenage slumber party, Mary smiled and Jane smiling back changed the subject again. Jane stopped talking realizing as she blinked off the booze and still giggling as she realized several of the guys around her table had heard what she had said. The four men watched Jane and Mary talk as if they had slipped into a forbidden phone conversation. The kind that never happened. Jane thought. You call a friend and suddenly you are listening to the friend talk to another friend, and you realize somehow that you had jumped into their conversation. You put the phone on mute and listen. When they talk about you, and it so true what they say, you almost imagine you are talking about yourself. No way, you think to yourself, can you ever tell them you what you heard, and when you realize that you are angry. Nothing is real, anymore, you think pulled back to Mary and the sudden impossible connection you have made with her. Death did it you think. Sex did it you amend that first thought and back with Mary you wonder again what she gave back, knowing that somehow you would have to ask the question again, but suddenly none of that mattered because Mary gave it up almost like the accident of the three way phone conversation. Something that happens only once in a lifetime. Why should that one time, that one accident, you think happen now at such an insignificant moment? You did not want the man to jump to his death. You never imagined it happening. It just did like Mary showing she wanted you, and you wanting her, but not wanting to let her lead. "I know," Mary said, watching one of the guys watch Jane smoke, Mary imagined that Jane's had first caressed her face, neck and was now rubbing her breasts from behind, taking both of them in her hands allowing her thumbs to rub against the nipples. I felt my mind being stroked, Mary thought as Jane sat back, relaxed without any tension or requests. On the phrase, "I know," Jane listened to her heart and suddenly heard Mary speaking in mid conversation "just before Mike jumped I put the shit he gave me back in his pocket. He called it 'kryptonite.' That is what I almost told you. I wanted to, but I just did not know how. Suddenly now, it seemed important to tell you. In my mind, I felt you asking me, Jane. Were you? Can you?" Brought back suddenly, Jane laughed at Mary's obvious story. "No, I did do it, Mary insisted. I brought it with me just in case. I thought you would get a kick out of it or not believe it was real. Besides, when I am drunk like this, it all seemed quite serious." It was not really, a question said, feeling another dark man at the back bar smirking, watching her. Jane pulled her shoulders back so her tits would not show but in pulling back, she pushed them out making them stand out more. Turning away from him so he could not see her face or her breasts, and Jane tired of the game and just looked away. When she turned back moments later and he was still starting, she mouthed "fuck you at him," but did it in a way that was an ironic welcome that didn't show her confusion. "But he was so nice, wasn't he," Jane mocked. " Your mystery man jumped to prove what. How silly," Jane said. "I know it is mad to think it, but you said you had a good time last week." "You mean the porno star or the man who just jumped. His name was Mike by the way." Mary answered. "Mike or Clark Kent," Jane offered. "No, superman, the real one," Jane chortled. Maybe, next week you will tell me you fucked God and then I really will believe you, Jane thought. "None of this is real Mary," Jane said. " We are stuck inside a computer icon and we are being flipped and fucked in some virtual cocoon with ten thousand men rubbing their dicks like that ancient horse gag Avi from twenty-five years ago that I found in a backup drive of my grand father. The woman really chokes in the Avi. Just as we are now," Jane said that last phrase to herself and remembering how she showed the film clip to her Mom and how he Mom had told her that her Papa was a fucked up dirty old man who should learn to grow old gracefully." Amazing, Jane thought, watching Mary preen and fuss putting on fresh lipstick. "Don't you have anything to say, Mary," Jane asked as she watched Jane finally put her top back on. Jane in helping her adjust the back and straps stroked Mary's nipples wondering what it would feel like in a few months when she nursed when she is suckled by someone. "Who gives a fuck about Mike? You? Me? We came here hoping he or someone would jump. Why do you think we pay so much to come here? The music sucks. Men are stupid. We have to dress up too much, and we can't really relax." Jane was not laughing when Mary stopped. While she spoke, Mary had taken Jane's hands and playing with each finger brushed them against her face and neck. "See, I am alive," she said, feeling Jane's eyes inside her own. Mary, suddenly, not caring where they were, to Jane to keep the rise and fall of their embrace as private as possible in a public room filled with cops trying to figure out if the jumper had been pushed. "Maybe we expect too much of ourselves," Jane said, relaxing, but then suddenly faking a more serious tone watching Mary hands on her own nipples, having pushed the edges of the blouse back again, making a beautifully obscene picture, Jane thought. "That is why I like women, Jane offered. They bullshit better. "Fuck yes," Mary said. "There is no such thing as a superman, really, do you really believe me Jane, Mary laughed, and fondling another bag of kryptonite in the bottom of her tiny hand purse, she waited for Jane's hands to touch her mind like she has superman last night. "So, you want me," Mary asked, repeating the question four times. Every time she asked, her voice was softer. By the last time, when Jane responded, yes, Mary asked the question silently just by moving her lips. When Jane spoke "yes," she began to lift her transparent top, not caring who watched, pulling it off quickly. When Jane dropped the almost weightless top on the floor, their bodies glowed as they watched the movie of themselves dancing in ovals in the shadows of the black blinking lights pulsing above the bar. Stopping the movie, Jane said, "what you did Mary was neither right nor wrong; it does not matter. "It could not have been kryptonite. There is no such thing. It is an old TV movie, not real. Clark Kent and all Supermen are actors we pretend to fuck. You cannot know when anyone bullshits. How can you? He gave me two bags last night, Mary blurted out, "He told me I needed to keep it with me so he wouldn't kill me with his strength when he got on top and fucked me. If I had not been drunk, I would have laughed in his face, but I almost believed him. I knew when I put the bag back in his pocket that I was making him weak when he wanted to be strong. I felt strange doing it. It was almost as if I had been set up to do it. The club likes it when men jump to their death. No one cares when he or she survives. Bottom line, Mary thought. "I had no idea he would actually jump from the balcony. Did I? I actually liked him." "I did too. He wasn't really a jerk," Jane listened for Mary to reply. "He had nice hands," Mary said, kissing Jane's neck sucking on the vein, visibly biting it. Yes, life is crazy," Jane added, half out of it, thinking now about kissing Mary and holding the baby she almost felt move. Impossible I know, she thought. What is the greater fantasy, Jane laughed to herself. "I don't give a fuck about him," Jane said, measuring Mary's throat for the first caress. "I can't make him live again." Kissing Mary gently like opening a flower, lip by lip, not caring who watched, Jane said almost with finality, "when you are alone with a lover, nothing else can matter but being there with that person, and when you are not alone, you wish you were." Guess Mike could have been really superman, Jane thought as she kissed Mary gently taking Mary's tongue under hers. NARRATOR: The next time you have a drink at a bar, and a man or woman comes up to you and brags that he loves you, or wants you for the night, or is even the real fucking Superman, tell him or her, you have a bag of kryptonite in your pocket. Really, listen to how she or he responds. Think about how none of us has anything to really hold when we take that huge leap into the unknown. There is only the bottom of the universe. Nothing else. Coming up is as good as going down. Mary looked at Jane quite startled but pleased by what they seem to hear in the voice over. In many ways, Mary thought that the scene here seemed more like a movie set than any real bar she had known. Just as Mary started to respond to the voice over, Mary and Jane were caught on the edge of the virtual and the real, almost like a three dimensional hologram of a chat room where you actually feel and can enjoy touching your partner. Not that Mary or Jane really wanted to speak, especially when the voice over the loud speaker continued, "And when you have your third or fourth drink, "Don't be surprised when you think of superdick fucking some valley girl at the mall? Imagine that you are looking inward or outward at any man or better yet woman floating in some high- headed space between Nirvana and Hades. Finally, when you look up at the clock and you have fifteen minutes before "last call," you will smile at the wrong time, and you will have to make polite conversation with a spirit, a man, or another face in the crowd. After a pause, a page or a chapter, you hear another voice, the bartender perhaps say, "Drink it all up, it's closing time," he continues the voice over. "Never know when the chance will come back. Never know whom you will meet or have met in that instant when a dream and nightmare dance perilously close to jumping yourself like that fool did from the roof of this fucken bar famous for suicide which is why we hang out there if we are honest." "Remember," Jane continued for the man in the voice over, putting her fingers on Mary's mouth to silence her, "when he hit the bottom of the farce, in that last instant, life pulled and twisted into an ironic puzzle that only dying could disprove. Death is a hell of a way of showing you might indeed be superman. No logic there, really, but then who gives a shit. You and I are not the ones who died, sweet Mary. Feeling the edge of Mary's breast that was warm soft and cupped easily in the hand made for a gentle blessing, Jane finished. "Bottom line, if you don't do it, take that chance, you may live longer, but at what cost." Finding Mary's fingers, she sucked them before and after she brushed her tongue against Mary's neck and ears. Touching the circle of her own nipple to Mary's, carefully creating the ovals of their tits, hearing the rush of Mary's rough breathing mixed with her own, knowing that if they continued, one or could almost come just from the foreplay of kiss, Jane whispered one last line in Mary's ear biting the lobe hard making Mary jump. "What if she had stopped, another voice over, a woman said. "What if any one of us had accepted the bullshit, and paused at the wrong time? What happens to lost pleasure if you stop before success or failure"? With the word, "pleasure," Mary kissed Jane back and Jane felt Mary's hand reach into her skirt, pushing into her, tickling the lips of Jane's vulva, expertly and gently pushing the hood back. Mary quickly found the tip of the clit, tweaking it, teasing it and opening the inside of it as one opens the mind anticipating a caress, Mary rubbed back at the root of the clitoris, finding the origin of pleasure in that organ that dropped below the pubis bone disappearing into the well of the body. What had surprised Jane more than Mary's gentleness? It felt as if Mary's fingers were her own. Instinctively, Jane opened her legs, leaning back, allowing Mary's fingers to rip into the cloth and leaf of the ancient silk underpants, Jane felt Mary slip them down from her ass. At that moment, Jane imagined Mary with a cock, knowing how wonderful a woman could ravish her, taking her apart collapsing into her when she came. Well, love, Jane thought, we would have to see how far we could reach into the other. Taking Mary in her arms for a dramatic kiss, Jane aroused by the oval of Mary's mouth bit her own tongue just before the kiss. Jane loved the bitter taste of her own blood. She savored the kiss. It was just like the ones Jane had remembered at her sweet 16 party how she and her cousin, Louise, their thighs entwined, made the come swallow the waves. Kissing each delicate line softer and then harder, marking Mary's face with the wet of her tongue leaving a map of her pleasure on the surface for the return, Jane swallowed thinking of how she would open Mary's vulva later when they were alone on Mary's King size bed. Jane felt her tongue curl as it would when she let it follow the contours of Mary's sex. Wonderful, Jane thought how the tongue and mouth round to pulp of the sweet fruit, squeezing the source, teasing it slurping away at madness, and finally in the end at orgasm, sometimes drinking the fluids shot clear from the utter of the mouth no matter what their origin. Intent, pausing to breathe then stop, Jane's intensity caught Mary and moving her arms under Mary, Jane lifted her pulling her to that collapse that comes just at the moment when seduction is fully realized by some collapse. Stopping, wondering how she would survive the next moment, Mary pulled back, just for a moment, "Jane," another female voiceover said, just at the moment when the image on the movie screen would fade to a larger than life END, "Do you mind, Jane, that Mary is holding the other bag of kryptonite when she kisses you?" More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/ Sean Farragher Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com TxM6 Sites: http://www.taximurders.com http://www.taximurders.com/enfer http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon (updated August 1, 2000) http://www.taximurders.com/paradisio (forthcoming) -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+