Message-ID: <35246asstr$1013739005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Alison Pelletier <apelletier@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Secrets of the Sand 
Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2002 21:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I'm not quite sure why I wrote this story, or why I wrote it as I did.
It seemed ... right ... somehow. I'm not sure why I am sharing it with
you, but it seems ... right ... somehow. I hope that you enjoy it.

This story contains erotic imagery. So, if you are a minor, or unable
to handle scenes of sex and nudity, even in your own imagination, then
please forgo reading it. I won't be offended.

I consider this writing mine, thus the copyright. It is the property
of Alison Pelletier, and I do hope that you enjoy it as I'd intended.
However, please don't redistribute the words, or use them for personal
gain. If you want to use it, beyond this posting, then please contact
me. I'm easy to reach (see below).

Any comments, or questions, may be sent to apelletier@nym.alias.net
I enjoy correspondence, and respond to all but spam.

Ali


======================================================================

Secrets of the Sand (First FF, rom, light bond, light sm)

Alison Pelletier (apelletier@nym.alias.net)

======================================================================

Copyright (c) September 2001

All rights reserved

======================================================================

Laurier Academy for Girls nestled comfortably between the palm trees,
calmly overlooking the deep, blue waters of the bay. A long stretch of
pristine white beach graced the shoreline, while gently rolling surf
permeated the humid atmosphere. It was an idyllic location, private
and quiet, perfect for learning and play for the students residing
within the sprawling campus.

A lone figure, a girl of about seventeen, stood on the fine sand
searching for something across the gentle waves. The girl's blonde
hair swirled about her shoulders, kissing the fabric of her white
dress as it danced across her back.

After a time, the girl sighed and turned. Her bare feet indented the
sand as she began to walk back towards the low buildings.

The sand refused to part with its secrets.

                         <---===***===--->

"God, it's hot in here," I remarked as I swung open the door.

It was like a steam bath outside -- the temperature and the humidity
stifling. Inside the small room, it resembled hell incarnate. I tossed
my books onto the small desk before settling to my bed and kicking off
my shoes with a sigh. My feet were still dusted with fine grains of
white sand, and I absently brushed at my toes while I regarded my
roommate lying on her single bed on the other side of the room.

Claire looked up from her book, tossing her brunette hair absently out
of her eyes. She lay face-down, naked, her bare feet idly swinging
back and forth as she read, her bare breasts pressing into her sheets.

"Shouldn't use the Lord's name in vain, Alison. What if Em heard you?"

I grinned, considered tossing my pillow at the other girl. Instead, I
raised my voice:

"Go to hell, Claire."

I caught the pillow that was tossed in return.

"What would Em do if she saw you like that?" I motioned towards her
nudity. Claire shifted, propping herself up on her elbow on the bed,
her breasts emerging into view.

Her nudity didn't bother me, and since our room was situated directly
above the boiler room, on days like this, it was nearly impossible to
survive without removing some clothing. Claire simply figured that in
a school full of females, her nudity wasn't anything awe-inspiring.
And it kept her cool.

"Probably want to eat me," Claire returned without a bat of eye.

I began to finger the hem of my dress. While the light fabric was cool
enough outside on the beach, the white cloth was already beginning to
stifle me; a trace of warm perspiration trickled from my shoulder
under the dress.

I had risen to my feet to pull it off when Em stormed into the room.

"Claire Jasmine Stevens."

Claire slowly turned her head until she gripped Em's eyes with hers.
Em faltered for a moment, shaking.

"You. You. You," Em stammered.

"I'm naked?"

"Claire Stevens, you get dressed immediately."

Slowly and deliberately, Claire rose to her feet and walked across the
room until she stood nose to nose with Em. Claire spoke quietly.

"What business is it of yours?"

Em stepped back, trying to regain some composure.

"Claire, come on. I'm responsible for this floor, and if the Dean sees
you lounging around ..." She paused as if searching for the right
words. At last, she continued. "Like that. The Dean will think things.
You know?"

"What things?"

Em blushed, and refused to look at Claire. Her eyes darted about the
room, settling on me, and on anything else that was more neutral than
the nude girl standing in front of her.

Claire softened a little as she turned and walked back towards her
bed. She settled down there, her toes idly playing with the floor
boards.

"Em, it's too hot in here to be dressed up."

Even I could see the sweat beading on Em's brow. I absently wiped a
drop from my own temple that threatened to join the one currently
trickling down the small of my back.

"Do you have to be nude?"

Claire looked up, a look of pity on her face. "Em, I understand you
aren't comfortable with me, but I am. I'll keep the door closed,
okay?"

Em didn't look convinced, but she nodded and stepped back out of the
room. I walked over to the door and watched the floor monitor walk
back to her own room down the hallway.

"Don't worry, Em, I'll get her to put something on," I called quietly
as she entered her room and glared back at me.

I quickly shut the door and ensured that it was engaged. None of the
student rooms had locks, but crime, in general, wasn't a problem at
the Academy. Claire had returned to her bed, feet swinging idly, nose
buried in a book.

In one quick motion, I dropped the damp fabric of my dress to the
ground. Sighing, I didn't bother to replace it with anything else.
Even my underwear seemed to be excessive for this heat. I pulled out a
history text and settled into a similar pose to Claire. The slight
wind against my feet as they moved through the air cooled me.

                         <---===***===--->

When I dragged myself away from General Montcalme's staggering defeat
on the Plains of Abraham, Claire was quietly sitting cross-legged on
her bed, eyes watching me.

I turned over, shrugged.

"What?" I asked.

Claire just smiled, unabashed by her nakedness.

"Who are you bringing to the dance tomorrow night?" she asked.

"I wasn't going," I replied somewhat wistfully. "They won't even let
us see a boy, much less date one. Except under chaperone at these
silly functions. What's the point?"

Claire nodded. "Then they try to set us up with those idiot soldier
boys from Jack Milner School for Wayward Boys."

I laughed. "It's not for wayward boys. Just military types. But if
they saw you like that, they'd salivate."

Claire shrugged. "Why don't you go?"

I thought about it. "Are you going?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied. "At least we get to
*see* boys."

"You can't fuck them, you know ..."

Claire's eyes glinted. "Oh, can't I?"

I shook my head slowly to emphasise the gravity of the situation.
Claire would be expelled or worse for getting caught in a compromising
position with any boy. Besides, Em and her crowd would make sure that
we weren't ever alone with any boy.

"You could fuck 'em, if you wanted. They'd salivate if they saw you
like that, too. All pretty in her lacy panties and bra."

"Maybe I'll go like this, then. Catch me some soldier pretty boy. Or
maybe I'll even forgo this." I snapped the front of my bra.

"Slut," she taunted with a grin on her face.

I threw my pillow at her without hesitation. It caught her just below
the chin, falling harmlessly into her lap. She gathered it up like a
big white marshmallow against her bare skin.

"Yeah, I'll go. Find me some big strong soldier delinquent to dance
with. Listen to some music."

I returned my attention to Wolfe's successful campaign against the
French.

                         <---===***===--->

The pillow caught me near my right ear in a fluffy impact. A startled
scream emerged from my lips as I turned from the pages to a grinning,
naked roommate brandishing the weapon of choice in the dorm -- a big
overstuffed goose down pillow -- standard issue.

Quickly, I rolled to the left, grabbing my pillow as the next blow
smacked into the spot where I'd just been.

"Claire!"

Without heeding me, she aimed another swing that caught me on the
shoulder.

Laughing, I swung, catching her in the ribs.

Suddenly, she was chasing me, giggling like a pre-schooler. When her
pillow exploded in a cloud of feathers, we collapsed to the floor. I
suppose it had been a tough week, and the heat made us silly, but
everyone needs a break once in a while. My arms were tangled in hers,
her legs tangled in mine.

And suddenly, our noses touched, and Claire stopped laughing, but only
for a moment. She struggled to pull her arm free from below me,
cursing lightly, and I tucked my chin.

With a twist to her left, she was on top of me, legs straddling my
midriff, feet against my thighs. I had control of her left arm, but
with her right, she dug her fingers heavily into my ribs.

Without warning, her lips met mine, soft, yielding and completely
relentless. I stopped struggling, released her arm as her lips
caressed mine. Shivers coursed through my nerves, and while I wasn't
quite sure I knew what was happening, I found myself kissing her back.

Experience isn't my forte. I didn't have many kisses to compare
against -- in fact, only two. In grade school; silly kids games. This
kiss fell far beyond that.

Mind awhirl, I continued; felt the stirrings of excitement that were
normally reserved for school girl fantasy. Gasping, I pushed, and
Claire rose, her eyes asking the question to which I didn't know the
answer. When she lowered her head again, I didn't press her away. The
tingles returned, as those full, red lips again touched mine.

When I felt the gentle pressure of her tongue, and her fingers lightly
against the cotton of my bra, I panicked. Twisting, and pushing, I
watched as she fell to the side, a hurt expression on her face. Oddly,
I noticed her bare breasts bounce as her shoulder struck the floor
with an expression of pain.

Eyes filled with tears, I rose to my bare feet. My dress graced the
floor to my right and I grasped it as I moved towards the doorway.

I slipped the still damp fabric over my head. I paused with my fingers
about to turn the doorknob.

"Alison?" Claire's voice was small and frightened.

I turned. She sat naked, cross-legged on the floor. Unshed tears lined
her lower eyelids, her long brunette hair tangled from our games, face
flushed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Eyes stinging, I turned the knob and slipped out into the quiet
hallway. At the stairs, I turned, the concrete of the steps rough and
cool against the bare soles of my feet.

Claire stood at our doorway, head downcast, her bare skin illuminated
by the dimmed sconces. She looked up as though aware of my gaze.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed as I let the stairway door close with an
echoing bang.

                         <---===***===--->

Crickets graced the night with their nightsong. The moon, full against
the blackness of the night illuminated the concrete paths leading
through the darkened campus.

I wandered in the company of the crickets for some time before being
drawn to the wan light of the library.

Before ascending the steps to the library, I wiped at my eyes and
sniffled. Gathering my courage, I opened the door and walked back into
the light. The night librarian looked up, and I could tell that she
was surprised by my appearance. I must have looked awful, barefoot,
tearstained and mussed from the pillow fight. She was sensitive enough
not to mention it, and I disappeared into the aisles as quickly as I
could.

The library was deserted, as it always was at this time of night.
There were perhaps three other students scribbling in notebooks and
reading in various parts of the library. They paid me no heed.

Randomly, I grabbed three books from the shelves and found a
comfortable sofa near a fireplace that was currently not in use.

The print in the books steadfastly refused to focus, but truthfully, I
couldn't concentrate even if I could have seen through the tears. The
image of her, standing naked in the hallway, burned into my mind.

"I'm sorry, Alison."

I nodded. I knew.

I tilted my head back against the cushions. My feet were bare, so I
tucked them under myself, not worried about damaging the furniture.
Darkness welcomed me.

Incredibly, sleep came.

                         <---===***===--->

"Alison?"

I shifted, reached for a blanket that wasn't there.

"Alison?"

I mumbled something incoherent, probably a curse against my
tormentor's parentage.

A hand, light upon my shoulder, shook me gently.

"Alison, please."

The voice, familiar, remained close to my ear. Warm breath caressed my
throat. An associated image: a girl standing naked in the hallway.

"Claire?" I mumbled.

"You're going to be so sore in the morning if you don't come back. You
can't sleep here. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Slowly, I fluttered my eyes open, squinting against the dim light of
the library. True to her word, my neck complained as soon as I tried
to move it.

Claire tugged on my hand.

"I want to sleep here."

She let go of my hand, rose slowly to her feet. I opened my eyes
fully, and blinked until the graininess cleared a little. For some
reason, I was expecting to see her naked, though I knew that she
wouldn't leave our room unclothed. Even Claire wasn't that brave.

"Please," she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting
the librarian to come and shoo her away. In truth, the librarian
probably would have helped her in her quest to get me back to my own
room. Probably thought I was drunk, or something by now.

She was clad in blue jeans, and a halter, her feet as bare as mine,
her hair as tangled as when I'd left her, God knows how long ago. Her
eyes were stained red.

She knelt, her hands soft against my cheeks.

"Alison. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

With that, she again climbed wearily to her feet. She turned and
slowly walked away. I watched her until the library doors again closed
against the night beyond.

Slowly, I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

After a while, I rose, leaving the books haphazard on my sofa. The
librarian seemed happy to see me leave as I slipped out to join the
crickets.

                         <---===***===--->

The smell of salt, and the unending crash of unseen waves always gave
me a sense of stability. The white sand of the beach ran easily
between my toes, yielding and close.

The warm water of the bay lapped at my toes and I curled up at the
edge of the packed sand. Every seventh wave kissed me and then
receded.

For a long time, I stared out over the water. The moon returned my
gaze, silently full, reflected from the tips of a million waves. The
crickets gave melody to the soft light illuminating my world.

With a sigh, I absently brushed the dampness from my cheeks, and
tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

I rose, no closer to knowing myself than when I'd arrived.

The sand bid me farewell as I stepped from the beach to the soft grass
beyond.

                         <---===***===--->

I hesitated outside our door. A unsteady light flickered under the
entrance. I glanced at my wrist but my ever-present watch was beyond
the portal in front of me, somewhere on my cluttered desk, or on
Claire's. It was late, my body knew that much.

It was my own door, but my right hand rose to knock. Realising what I
was doing, I slowly lowered my fist, but the fingers wouldn't
unclench.

My tired mind awhirl, I inhaled deeply and pressed the door open with
its stubborn creak.

                         <---===***===--->

A single candle burned upon her desk. My eyes fixed to it, as it
flickered and sent gentle swirls of smoke towards the ceiling. Em
would probably have a fit if she saw it. A fire hazard, she'd declare
as she snuffed it.

But Em was fast asleep by now, along with most of the Academy.

Claire sat quietly on her bed, cross-legged, her hands held lightly in
her lap. She was still clad in her blue jeans and halter, but her head
remained bowed.

She'd straightened up the room. Her bed lacked a pillow, but the stray
feathers from our earlier romp were neatly placed in the waste paper
basket along with the linen that used to encase them.

The beds were made, my pillow sitting lonely upon the turned down
covers. All remnants of the pillow fight were erased, as if it had
never happened.

Claire rarely straightened, preferring controlled chaos, as she would
say.

I let the door go. The click of it engaging the jam echoed down the
hallway and through our room. Claire looked up for a moment, enough
for me to see her swollen, red eyes in the flickering light, before
she again stared at her entwined fingers in her lap.

My heart melted. I wanted to hug her, like we always had before when
one of us was hurt. But what when both of us were hurt? My lips
tingled where she'd kissed me, my breast throbbed where she'd touched
me.

I moved silently to my bed, sat down heavily. The springs protested my
presence. Keeping one eye on Claire's unmoving form, I slipped the
dress from underneath me, pulling it over my head. I was certain that
she'd be in front of me, ready to pounce, but as the fabric slipped to
the floor, she remained motionless, face downcast.

Without removing my underwear, I slipped under the covers, pulling
them over me and under my chin. I turned away from Claire, facing the
wall.

Her voice carried slightly above a whisper.

"Alison?"

"Mhmmmm?" I wasn't going to fall asleep. That much I knew.

"I can leave if you want. Em would probably let me sleep there
tonight. If you want ..." Her voice trailed off, perhaps choked off by
a quiet sob.

I turned my head to face her. Her face was tear streaked, and her
shoulders were hitching. I gently shook my head.

"Claire, you don't need to go."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Good night, Claire," I mumbled.

I turned back over, clutching the covers. My eyes wide, I stared at
the flickering wall.

I could have been mistaken; her voice dropped below a whisper and the
room swallowed it, like the sand, as if secrets should remain secrets
forever.

"I think I love you."

                         <---===***===--->

According to the red numerals of Claire's clock radio, it was 3:24 in
the morning when my exhausted mind finally came to the inevitable
conclusion.

Even the crickets had muted their song in deference to the night. A
ray of moonlight fell from the window to illuminate the opposite side
of the room.

There, Claire had finally lain down, curled up in a fetal position,
head cradled on her hands instead of her normal but absent pillow. She
lay on top of the covers as if she had fallen asleep despite her
efforts to stay awake. She hadn't changed into her normal sleeping
attire, but remained in the faded blue jeans. Her halter top had
ridden up in her sleep, the bottom curve of her left breast peeking
out, though her demeanour was far more modest than usual.

The candle had flickered out an hour or so ago. The wall had suddenly
transmorphed from a cosy hearth to a colder granite. Until my eyes
adjusted to the moonlight, the wall remained cold and deep. Now, the
wall reminded me of my bedroom at home, warmer and inviting.

Claire shivered in her sleep once, and grabbed at the sheets that
weren't above her. She settled again into a quieter sleep.

I sat silently in the dimness and watched her sleep. So peaceful in
slumber, I was loathe to disturb her.

I knew what I was going to do, perhaps had known since she kissed me,
but it didn't make it any easier. Butterflies tumbled in my stomach,
and my hands trembled as I unclenched them from their nervous fists.

She seemed so peaceful, so vulnerable, so ... beautiful.

The girl curled up on the other bed began to cry silently in her
sleep. Tears dripped unheeded down her cheek, collecting in the furrow
of her nose.

Her lips formed my name in a quiet mumble.

"Alison."

I knelt beside her bed, the moonlight reflecting from her hair. The
hardwood of the floor pressed painfully into my knees, but I didn't
shift. With care, I brushed at the wetness of her cheek.

"Shhh."

Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented.

"Can't be real, just a dream," she whispered.

I slowly shook my head.

"I'm ..." she whispered.

I silenced her with a single finger against her lips. They were warm,
and yielding, and intoxicating against my finger. I lowered my lips to
her ear.

"No, Claire. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that."

I moved my face, lips brushing her cheek, tasting the salty wetness.
And then the tingles raced through my nerves as her lips found mine,
kissing, caressing, loving.

This time, I didn't stop her tongue or her hand as they explored me.

                         <---===***===--->

Her hand moved gently underneath my waistband, brushing at my vaginal
lips insistently. I could feel moisture, couldn't believe Claire's
fingers were touching me, intimate and close. Her breath warmed my ear
as she nibbled playfully, tears forgotten.

My fingers found her nipples, stroking them until they became erect
beneath the halter, satisfied with her gasp. Gently I twisted, my left
hand running freely through her hair.

The fingers between my legs became more insistent, teasing, and close.
Her fingers found my rhythm as if she'd always known it, almost as
skilled as my own, but so much more satisfying.

Her other hand brushed my right nipple through my bra, gentle and
causing electric shocks to travel from my breasts to my clitoris. Her
lips hungrily caressed mine.

My fingers reflexively squeezed her breasts, pinching hard at her
nipples as I struggled towards the chasm.

I stifled a scream. Fell over the edge, falling, falling. The
moonlight faded to crimson as the blood rushed from my head.

She cried out quietly as my fingers finally released her nipples.

Realising that I'd hurt her, in perhaps the most sensitive place, I
tried to whisper an apology as the climax began to fade. Her lips
stopped my protests before they began.

"I'm fine. Relax," she whispered.

Her kiss made everything else fade into the background.

                         <---===***===--->

My head lay cradled in her arm while she almost absently stroked my
hair.

"What happened?" I whispered.

Claire didn't reply, and I settled back, content to let her brush my
hair with her fingers.

When my breathing had returned somewhat to normal, and my mind began
to function again, I sighed quietly, slipping out from Claire's arms.
She didn't resist, but simply watched as I padded across the room and
retrieved my pillow. She didn't protest as I slipped it under her
head.

"Claire?"

She looked up at me, kneeling beside her bed.

"I've," I began slowly. I could feel the flush rushing to my features,
but in the moonlight, I doubted if Claire could see it. "I've never,"
I stumbled, embarrassed, unsure of the direction I wanted to go.

Claire smiled up at me, understanding ingrained into her features.

"You don't have to, Alison. I'm fine. Honestly."

I hesitated for a moment, searching her face. She meant it. The
butterflies had returned, and despite my inexperience and hesitation,
I knew deep inside what I wanted. At least for tonight.

I bent and kissed her. After a moment, she returned the kiss, her arms
snaking around me and pulling me close.

The butterflies decided to bother someone else.

                         <---===***===--->

"Alison?"

I pulled my finger tips from teasing her nipples through her top. I
thought that she was going to ask me to undress her. My fingers played
with the edge of her halter.

She smiled, though her features seemed nervous.

I propped myself up on an elbow and glanced over at the clock. It was
far too late, or early depending on how one looked at it, but I didn't
feel like sleep. Not at all.

She squirmed out of my arms, swung her legs out of the bed and rose.
Even in the moonlight, I could tell her face was flushed. I raised my
fingers to my nose; her scent, musky and sweet, infused me. I wanted
her again; wasn't sure if I'd have been able to pull away from her
caressing fingers. But she had from mine. Her face held a look of
nervousness.

She stood by the bed for a moment, gazing at me.

"Alison? I'd like ..." her voice trailed off. I waited quietly,
shifting into a cross-legged position. The underwear I was wearing
seemed too constricting, but my fingers still didn't move to remove
it.

Claire shifted her weight from bare foot to bare foot, struggling with
something internal.

"Promise you won't get freaked out?" she whispered.

More freaked out than her first kiss?

I silently nodded and Claire plunged.

"You know," and she hesitated again, then rushed through the
remainder. "You know how when you, um, climaxed?"

I nodded with a smile.

"You remember where your fingers were?"

I thought back. It was a bit of a haze, almost faded into a rosy past.
Then it rocked me back. I closed my eyes. Her nipples. I'd pinched
them, without thoughts or intent, when I'd orgasmed.

"Claire, God, I'm so sorry." My hands rose reflexively to my own
breasts. The cotton there obscured my nipples, but I could imagine the
pain my fingers had caused her in the swollen flesh there. I'd pinched
hard in the midst of the climax. That much I knew.

"No, no," she whispered. "I," and she hesitated a long time. "I kind
of ... liked it."

Confusion graced my face. What was she telling me? I guess I knew, but
I didn't quite understand at the time.

Silently, she turned away from me and pulled open the top drawer of
her desk. She pulled something from the depths of the drawer,
scattering paper and pens. When she straightened, the unmistakable
silhouette of chrome dangled from her right forefinger.

She knelt, kissing my lips as I sat unsure. I kissed her back, my
fingers finding her nipples again.

When she broke the kiss, she spoke again, softly.

"Alison, you don't have to if you don't want to."

The butterflies had returned.

"I. I. I don't think I'm ready to wear those," I stammered.
Truthfully, I would have worn them if she'd really wanted me to, but
it seemed too early.

Claire laughed gently and kissed me again.

"Not you, silly. Me."

I gasped, unsure what to think.

"You?" I asked dumbly.

Claire nodded. Even in the dim light, I could see the blush suffusing
her face.

"Why?"

Claire hesitated a moment, then slowly shook her head.

"I. I don't know."

I didn't understand, but I don't think I needed to. Slowly, I held out
my hand, face up.

The key weighed heavy as she pressed it carefully into my palm, and
urged my fingers to close around it.

                         <---===***===--->

Claire's bed boasted vertical brass rails at the head and footboard.
She lay on her back, arms outstretched, the handcuffs encircling her
wrists, threaded around one of the secure posts. Her breath came in
short bursts; she held it between inhalations, thrusting her breasts
upwards slowly, and then downwards quickly as she released.

I wanted to ask her if she was all right, but somehow, deep inside I
knew that she was. Gently, I brushed a stray lock of her hair from her
eyes. I kissed her once, and she tried to follow as I broke it.
Couldn't.

Slowly, I released the clasp in front of my bra. She'd seen me naked
so often I couldn't possibly count, but this was different somehow. My
heart wasn't beating anymore; it was banging behind my ribs. I wanted
to turn around, a false sense of modesty intruding, but I ended up
slowly allowing the cotton to fall in a heap on the hardwood beside
her bed. Silently, her eyes never left my body. I almost didn't, but
in the end, my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my panties. With a
flip of my bare foot, they joined my dress and bra scattered on the
floor.

Helpless. Vulnerable. Trusting.

She lay on the bed, gently pulling on the handcuffs as if to reassure
herself that she was securely bound. The key remained clenched in my
right fist. Slowly, I lowered it, placing it gently to rest in the
hollow of her throat. Close but unreachable for her. She squirmed, but
didn't say anything.

                         <---===***===--->

I straddled her, my hips resting against her blue jeans, my feet
stroking the denim on either side of her body. My lips lowered,
finding her lips and kissing her. My fingers stroked her, slipping
under her top, playing with her breasts bare beneath.

Her breath came quick and steady.

I broke the kiss, rising up to gaze at her. Her eyes held mine, not
wanting to look away. Slowly, I raised her top, pushing it up and
above her breasts.

She looked away, moaning quietly as my fingers found her nipples.

Her sultry voice echoed through my memory: "I. I liked it."

I squeezed her nipples gently, but if her nipples were as sensitive as
mine, the light pressure would have been mildly uncomfortable. She
squirmed a moment, but then quieted with another moan.

"Alison?"

"Mhmmmm?"

She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. Her voice raised
only above a whisper.

"Hit me? Please?"

Any other time, I couldn't. But I was fairly dripping where my labia
pressed against her hips. Each slow undulation of her hips touched me
intimately, driving me from rationality.

"Where?"

"My face. My breasts. Anywhere. Please?"

I licked my lips, and hesitated. She'd closed her eyes, flinching with
my every move. She looked so beautiful. I didn't want to strike her.
She deserved so much better.

I struck her lightly, the flat of my left hand slapping her right
breast. Her flesh danced lightly under the impact, to my surprise,
prettily. I didn't think that it would have hurt her that much. She
gasped, but didn't tell me to stop.

I struck her again, this time, my right palm against her left breast.
She gasped again, grinding her hips against mine.

I leaned down, pressing my body into hers, for the first time
relishing the satin touch of our breasts pressing together. Her
breasts radiated a low heat into mine. I kissed her. Hard.

When I broke the kiss, she was crying gently and quietly. If I wasn't
centimetres from her face, I might not even have noticed. Concerned, I
whispered in her ear.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Just stings a little. I'm fine."

I rose again and lightly caressed her nipples.

"Please. Again?" she whispered.

I hesitated, touched her face, stroked her cheek, trailing a single
finger down her throat, past the key, and circled each nipple once.
Taking one nipple in each hand, I twisted gently until she gasped
again.

I lowered my lips to gently kiss each nipple.

                         <---===***===--->

She helped me, rising up and lifting her hips. The blue jeans were
snug, but eventually, they abandoned her legs to reveal a lack of
panties. I wasn't surprised.

I gazed in awe at her body, laid out in front of me, cuffed to the bed
helplessly, moonlight reflecting off her curves. I knelt easily
between her outstretched legs.

God, she was beautiful.

I touched my own bare nipples, teasing myself. And then, my fingers
found her, stroking lightly, and then entering in one quick push. Her
moisture coated my fingers.

Finding her rhythm was easy; it was as if she were an extension of my
own body.

It didn't take her long to reach her climax, her voice echoing around
the room. As her contractions eased, I began to lift my fingers from
within her.

"No. Please?" she begged.

I slowly pushed forward, my fingers sinking deep inside. When they
withdrew, I found her still swollen clitoris. Lying beside her, my
mouth found hers, and she returned the kiss.

It took her a lot longer to find her second orgasm, not as urgent and
insistent as the first. But eventually she did, crying out against my
mouth as she arched against the cuffs.

                         <---===***===--->

My body only wanted sleep. I was still aroused, especially after
Claire's games, but my need for sleep overrode the arousal.

Still kissing her, I fumbled for the key, eventually finding it next
to her bare shoulder on the sheets below. Half asleep, I released her
left wrist from the encircling steel. Absently, I noticed as she
rubbed it, and then slipped the rumpled halter over her head. She
shook out her hair, which settled prettily over her bare shoulders,
obscuring her breasts.

"Sore?" I asked.

"Good sore," she replied with a smile.

She didn't release herself from the right cuff. I heard the key
clatter to the floor.

"You want?" she asked, propped up on an elbow. Her finger gently
traced my right nipple, which reacted predictably.

I nodded, but spoke with eyes closed.

"I do. God, I do. But I need to sleep. Gotta rise in two hours."

Claire moved, and I turned willingly into the crook of her arm. My
head nestled against her right breast, and I didn't notice her softly
stroking my hair and raising the sheets up to cover our nudity. Her
breathing remained light and shallow.

Consciousness faded, and I wasn't even sure that I'd heard it.

"Thank you," she whispered.

                         <---===***===--->

Claire wasn't there when I awoke, her place in the cramped single bed
vacated, but still warm.

Wearily, I forced my eyes open, fought the graininess. Half awake, I
stumbled naked across the room, dragging my pillow with me. Slipping
beneath my own sheets, I turned over and closed my eyes, returning to
oblivion.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," a far too cheery voice interrupted my
snooze.

I poked my head out from beneath the covers to see Claire bounce into
the room, wrapped in a crimson towel. Her hair dripped across her bare
shoulders.

Unabashedly, she dropped the towel in an undignified heap by the door
and pranced naked to her dresser. Swiftly, she pulled on her school
uniform, and a pair of shoes.

I watched her, and when she noticed my attention, she smiled. I hadn't
seen her smile quite like that in months.

"You're going to be late. If you're late again, they might not let you
go to the dance," she tilted her head to the side.

I struggled to swing my legs out from beneath the warm covers. Unlike
Claire, I rarely slept nude, unless my nightgowns were all in the
wash, or something. The situation seemed odd to me, but Claire didn't
openly ogle my nudity as I somewhat expected.

She approached, holding up her right arm. A strange red line encircled
her wrist. I reached for her fingers, pulling her wrist closer. Upon
closer inspection, the single, wider red welt revealed two thin lines
etched into her soft skin, lined with crimson red. They weren't
bleeding now, washed clean by her shower, but they had bled in the
near past.

"What happened?" I asked quietly as I touched the more angry looking
of the wounds. She flinched a little as I touched her.

Claire knelt, pulling her wrist gently from my grasp.

"I pulled a little hard on my first," she whispered, a shine in her
eyes as if remembering.

"I'm sorry," I managed.

She smiled and shook her head. "Alison, don't worry about it. It'll
heal in a few days. I don't mind, really. I just didn't want you to
see it on your own and freak out later."

"I'm freaked out."

Claire rose and then bent to kiss me with a gentle laugh.

"Get ready for class, silly. You can't go like that."

With that, she merrily skipped from the room.

There wasn't much I could do about her wrist, and it didn't seem to
faze her. Wearily, I slipped into a terrycloth bathrobe, and padded
down the hall to the communal showers.

                         <---===***===--->

I turned the water up until the temperature of the steam from the
overhead waterfall approached that of an active volcano. The hot
stream sluiced over my bare skin. I cried out until my skin adjusted
to the cleansing heat.

After the water had stripped the aroma of stale sex from me, I
reluctantly dried off, and returned to the room.

A pair of handcuffs gleamed on Claire's desk. I touched them, almost
reverently, before returning them to her top drawer.

I smiled, as I hurried to dress and get to class.

                         <---===***===--->

Classes dragged, more so than usual.

I didn't see Claire at all, though I kept my eyes open for her between
classes. She wasn't even in the room when I returned to change for the
dance.

                         <---===***===--->

The boys looked smart, all dressed up in similar uniforms. They all
clustered on the south side of the hall. The girls kept to the north
wall, chatting and ignoring the low rock music that issued forth from
a somewhat pathetic DJ.

A few of the braver girls were dancing, though only perhaps ten, in a
big circle in the centre of the dance floor.

Em, and some of the older girls stood watch with the female teachers
from off to the side. It appeared that something similar happened on
the other side of the floor -- some ancient old military types, and
older students chaperoning the boys.

I glanced around the room, barely hearing the conversations
surrounding me unless asked a direct question. As far as I could tell,
Claire hadn't arrived yet.

                         <---===***===--->

A white dress, her hair up, she whirled in. All male eyes lit upon her
as she swept into the hall. She smiled at me, and though I motioned
her over, she elected to join a different group of friends that we
didn't share. I turned back to my group and laughed at the right jokes
and nodded at the right places.

"... tall guy over there is cute ..."

"... he could squeeze me any day ..."

"... and my ass and everything in between ..."

"... blondie could rock my world ..."

Giggling. Laughing.

Some of the boys were cute. And while I made a show of ogling them, as
they were us, I couldn't help seeing Claire, naked and cuffed to her
bed. The touch of her fingers, and the smell of her hair, and the
taste of her tears.

"Alison? Hello Alison? Earth to Alison?"

I shook my head, and turned.

"Which one?"

"Which one, what?"

The girls giggled. "We've all chosen who we're going to ask to dance
when that idiot finally plays a slow song."

I swallowed, glancing over at the group of males at whom the girls
were currently surreptitiously pointing.

I shrugged. "You go on," I laughed.

"The big blonde crew cut. You should ask him."

I glanced across the hall. Shook my head.

"We saved him for you!"

I shook my head again, and the girls broke into laughter.

"... then I'll ask him instead ..."

"... me ..."

"... me ..."

I tuned out of the squabble over my future Romeo.

                         <---===***===--->

The first slow song had no takers, but the following one broke the
ice. Some of the groups of guys in uniform nonchalantly strolled
across the floor and asked a few of the prettier girls to dance. Most
accepted.

My group of friends slipped en masse across the floor.

"Come on, Alison. Have some fun."

I shook my head, and resolutely leaned back against the wall.

"What are you, a lesbian?"

They all laughed. I flushed, but willed it away before it became
obvious in the dim light of the hall.

"I'll ask some brute next time, okay?"

The group of them hesitated, as if they weren't going to be brave
without me, but decided against it at the last minute. They slowly
moved across the floor, heading for the poor victim, er, crew cut
blonde they were salivating over.

The Phil Collins song was half over when a tentative tap on my
shoulder brought my head up and my mind away from Claire.

"Excuse me, Alison, is it?"

I nodded. I had no idea who the uniformed character was, but he seemed
to know my name. Then I recognised him as the blonde crew cut guy my
idiot group of friends were after. I glanced over at them. Some of
them were dancing, and some were watching events unfold where I stood
alone and vulnerable by myself.

He stuck out his hand. I hesitated, but grasped it lightly. "I'm
Jason," he announced carefully. "Would you care to dance?"

"Did they put you up to this?" I pointed at the idiots across the
floor.

He blushed, and then shook his head.

The music was beginning to get louder, and he bent to speak in my ear.
"They all asked me to dance, but ..." his voice trailed off. His
breath against my ear reminded me of the previous night. Or was it
early this morning. I tingled.

"Yes ..." I glanced over. Claire was engaged in conversation with
another group of girls. No boys were anywhere near them, though I was
sure there were a few glancing at Claire.

She looked up and smiled at me, but returned to her conversations.

"I. I really only wanted to dance with you."

Flattered, I looked up. It didn't appear to be a joke. The girls
across the way were motioning at me to dance, amidst a lot of
laughter.

I slowly shook my head. "I'm flattered, Jason, really I am. Perhaps
later?"

He smiled, not particularly dissuaded. "I'm going to hold you to
that."

                         <---===***===--->

I'd been dancing to mostly retro music. Duran Duran. Wham. Dead Or
Alive. Meatloaf. Madonna. Even some sixties. Del Shannon, Buddy Holly.
The eighties fellows were making music when I was an infant, Mr.
Shannon before I was born, but it worked for gatherings like this. The
boys mostly refused to fast dance, so we shifted in loose groups,
moving to the progressively louder music. The DJ appeared to be
warming up as the girls, at least, began to respond to the older
music.

Hot and perspiring, I finally slipped away from the gyrating bodies
and sat alone near the entrance. Slightly cooler fresh air peeked
between the cracks in the doors.

A bottle waved in front of my face. I looked up to find Jason offering
me a bottle of spring water, sweating from condensation. Without
thinking, I accepted it. The ice cold water burned all the way down my
throat to my belly.

Jason sat down beside me.

"What does it take to get you to dance with me? One dance?"

I turned to him.

"Perhaps you've found the way to my heart. Cold water."

I downed the remainder in one quick swallow.

He grinned, rose and returned a few minutes later with another. I
reached for it. My breathing had slowed, and my temperature had slowly
fallen to acceptable levels again. I carefully wiped a bead of
perspiration from my brow.

Instead of handing me the bottle, he smiled.

"Will you give me the next slow dance?"

I considered. "Bribing me?"

"You said it would work, didn't you?"

I slowly nodded. "I'll dance with you. I said I would."

He held the bottle just out of my reach as I reached for it again.

"You realise that I could just get up and get my own, right?" I raised
one eyebrow at him. The trick usually surprised people. Instead, he
raised only one of his eyebrows and adopted a Scottish accent.

"Lassie, you be a wee bit impatient."

With that, he twisted the cap from the bottle and motioning me to
lower my hands, he tilted it up towards my lips. I suppose he thought
he was being chivalrous, or some other nonsense, and to be honest it
was cute in its own way. I swallowed as quickly as I could, and only a
bit spilled down my chin. His rough fingers wiped it away.

"Better?"

I nodded. I settled back to listen to the Stones tell me about
satisfaction. Yes, I agreed. I can't get none, myself. I glanced
wistfully over to where Claire was talking to a uniformed guy who
looked far too young for her. Perhaps, I was getting closer. To
satisfaction.

The girls were staring at me from across the way. I motioned for them
to come over, but they collectively shook their heads and wandered
back to the dance floor.

I can't get no. Satisfaction. But I try. And I try. And I try. And I
try.

                         <---===***===--->

He rose gracefully, trained I suppose. Lawrence Gowan sang about
criminal minds, as Jason led me to the dance floor. I could feel the
group's eyes upon me, jealous and happy.

Without effort, he swung me into a close embrace, pressing our bodies
together. It took me a moment to adjust to his rhythms, but soon found
it relatively easy to follow his swaying motion.

Slowly, I pressed against his chest, loosening the space between us.
Em would have a fit if she happened to glance at us, and truthfully, I
barely knew the guy.

While we slowly spun to the music, Claire slipped into view, her face
neutral as she watched us dance. I shrugged and tried a smile. She
smiled back.

During that dance, I learned all about Jason, his home town, and his
career path, and his family of seven. Politely, I listened. In other
circumstances, he would have been cute. Hard. Rugged. Athletic.

But it wasn't going anywhere. I'd be lucky if I saw him again. I
didn't need to tell him my life story, and he would have been bored
silly, if I had. We danced, and I listened, feigning interest.

When the song ended, we stopped. He looked down at me, and for a
second, I thought he was going to kiss me. If he had, I don't quite
know what I'd have done, but he spared me the decision. He adopted the
fake Scottish brogue again.

"Thank you, m'lady."

I bent my head. As I began to walk back to the group of girls that had
somehow caused this, his hand touched my shoulder.

"Perhaps, I could convince you to dance again? Buy you another drink?"
George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley began to speak of careless
whispers.

I smiled, with a hint of flirt.

"Only works once, silly boy."

With that, I turned and joined my friends.

                         <---===***===--->

"... is he as cute as he looks ..."

"... what did you talk about ..."

"... I'd fuck him ..."

"... feel him ..."

A million questions barraged me as I rejoined the circle of friends.

I held up my hands.

"You want to find out what he's like? Go ask him to dance. Tell him
that I won't dance with him again until he dances with all of you."

They looked stunned, and then recovered.

"Really?"

I laughed. "Yes, really."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Then I won't dance with him again."

After "Careless Whisper", there followed two more slow songs. Elton
John, and Chris Isaak. The girls tested my theory, and Jason found
himself with a full dance card. I happily leaned against the wall and
watched as he gamely danced with the girls that asked. The gap between
him and the girls seemed wider than what he tried with me, but perhaps
it was merely vanity that I believed that.

                         <---===***===--->

A soft sultry voice whispered in my ear.

"You didn't show up topless. And you're still popular, I see. What's
his name?"

I turned, really smiling for the first time tonight.

"And you didn't show up naked. And I've seen you turning away the odd
guy. Thought you wanted to fuck one tonight?"

Claire shrugged. "Can't always get what you want."

"I want to kiss you."

Claire grinned and touched my lips with her finger. The tingles nearly
floored me.

"Jason."

Claire hesitated, a look of confusion gracing her lips.

"Jason who?"

"The guy hitting on me."

Claire nodded thoughtfully. "Oh."

"Thought I'd let him get to second base," I joked.

Claire laughed lightly.

"Got a few that I might let get past second base, myself." She touched
my face again.

I grinned, and mouthed: "Later."

Claire spun away, heading towards the dance floor. The slow music had
faded into some techno-dance, perhaps New Order, but I always get
those older techno bands mixed up. Claire joined up with a mostly
female group, her body gyrating in time with the music. As I watched,
the crowd swallowed her.

                         <---===***===--->

Even after all this time, the traditional last dance remained the same
-- a stairway joining earth to heaven. I knew from the first strains
of the song that it was neither Jimmy Page nor Robert Plant, so unless
the DJ had decided to completely buck tradition, this wasn't the last
song.

The familiar strains of "Angel", not the silly Shaggy remake, nor the
passable version by Juice Newton, but the original version Merrilee
Rush sang, issued from the speakers. I hadn't heard it in ages.

And he was there, close and hot and out of breath as if he'd run
across the hall to find me. He probably had.

His voice was strong and sure of himself.

"I've danced with all your friends."

I nodded slowly. I could see Claire on the other side of the room, a
tall handsome, older military uniform talking to her. He gestured
towards the dance floor and she shook her head in response.

Jason remained in front of me expectantly.

"Isn't there something you want to ask me?" he spoke.

I shrugged. "What?"

"Your friends said that you'd ask me to dance if I danced with all of
them first."

I sighed. "They got that a little backwards."

He laughed. "In that case, m'lady, would you honour me with this
dance?"

"I thought you'd wait for the last dance."

"Perhaps, I'll be able to convince you to dance both."

Merrilee Rush sang about her lover leaving.

You are the angel of the morning, Angel.

I slowly nodded, giving him my hand. He led me out towards the dance
floor.

                         <---===***===--->

Just touch my cheek before you leave. Darling.

He released me as the song finished.

He looked imploringly at me. I initially shook my head as the first
haunting notes of Stairway To Heaven filled the hall. Most of the
girls and boys were paired off, beginning to sway to the music. Some
far closer and intimate than I would have thought would be tolerated
by the chaperones. Even Em and Claire were dancing with whoever had
asked them.

I sighed, and held up my arms. Smiling, Jason swept me, holding me
even closer. I let him, considering that most of the chaperones were
dancing and weren't much interested in me. I could feel him, close and
male as we moved.

"Jason?"

His hands stroked me, falling lower and lower, brushing the tops of my
buttocks through the thinness of my dress.

"Jason. Stop," I whispered fiercely at him.

Instead of stopping, his hands slipped up my sides, tickling my ribs.
I gasped, tried to push away. He was strong, and I really didn't want
to make a scene. It was reasonably tame, so far. He'd stop. Wouldn't
he?

His breath came, hot against my ear.

"Alison," he whispered. I could feel him growing where his hips were
pressed to my groin. I tried to push away again. But we continued to
sway to the music like a pair of lovers.

I raised my face, about to scream when he kissed me. It was nothing
like Claire's soft kisses, but brutish, inexperienced, and harsh. His
stubble scratched my cheek. His teeth clacked against mine painfully.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Claire stopping her dance.
Thank God, she'll come and stop this.

Her mouth dropped.

Jason's hand rose from my ribs, cupping my breast and squeezing hard.
My voice, muffled by his mouth, didn't compete with Led Zeppelin.

I watched helplessly as Claire wove through the slowly spinning
couples, to the door and out, stranding her partner in a whirl of
confusion. The dim moonbeam from the night outside slowly contracted
as the door swung shut with an air of finality after Claire's exit.

Oh, God. I'd told her second base.

At last, I managed to get my right arm free.

With all my strength, I slapped him.

He let go with a yelp, my breast free of his grasp, his penis no
longer pressing into my belly.

I closed my eyes and sank to the floor.

And she's buying the stairway. To. Heaven.

The next voice I heard was Em. Thankfully, Em.

                         <---===***===--->

I have no idea what a military school does to boys like Jason, but it
is either congratulate them for copping a feel, or discipline them
heavily. I'm betting on discipline, but I never really heard.

"You need to see the doctor, or the nurse," Em spoke patiently from
Claire's bed.

I hadn't seen Claire since she disappeared from the dance.

I shook my head slowly. "No, Em. I'm fine. He didn't get anywhere, and
I stopped him eventually."

I could still feel his hand on my breast, the stale stink of his
breath. My teeth ached.

Em's face fell ashen. She was supposed to stop these kinds of things
from happening. Chaperone. Slowly, wearily, she rose to her feet. She
motioned like she was going to hug me, but I shied away -- not because
I didn't want to be held, but because I wanted someone specific. And
she wasn't here.

Em didn't seem fazed, or at least she acted understanding. She padded
to the doorway and paused there.

"If there's anything ..." Her voice trailed off.

I nodded.

"Thank you, Em. Really."

Em nodded, and closed the door behind her.

As soon as I was alone, I began to sob.

                         <---===***===--->

Naked, I lay helpless on Claire's bed, handcuffed securely to the
brass bars. Jason, a maniacal laugh issuing from his mouth, moved
slowly towards me, penis jutting obscenely.

I awoke, disoriented. I might have screamed to wake myself, but I'm
not sure.

While the details of the dream faded quickly, the emotions drained me.
I wrapped my arms around myself, and rocked until the shakes subsided.

"Claire?"

There was no answer from the opposite side of the room. It was dark;
the moon had either set or had travelled beyond the view of the
window. Her bed lay in shadows, but a form seemed to lay beneath the
sheets.

I swung my feet from beneath my sheets, surprised that I still wore
the dress I'd donned to attend the ill-fated dance. Who would have
taken it off me? I probably had cried myself to sleep. However, I had
been covered with my sheets, and I didn't remember doing that, either.
My feet were bare; at least I'd taken off my shoes before falling
asleep.

"Claire?"

No answer.

I padded barefoot to her bed. I reached out, my fingers encountering
little resistance. The shadows in her bed turned out to be her rumpled
sheets. There was no warmth where she should have laid.

Her clock announced that it was after five thirty. The sun would be
rising soon. I debated slipping back between my sheets, but I knew
that I wouldn't sleep. Not anymore. Not tonight.

In the darkness, I fumbled for the doorknob.

                         <---===***===--->

The crickets had ceased their nightsong as I hurried across the
concrete paths. A few fireflies flitted about, though even they were
half-hearted. The campus slumbered around me as the sound of my bare
feet echoed from uncaring buildings.

I hesitated by the library, but I didn't believe she was there. I
continued, the night air cooling me as I ran.

                         <---===***===--->

The sky began to lighten to the east.

The bay on which the campus sprawled curled around in a protected
harbour. The beach embraced the bay.

White sand, soft and yielding, caressed the bottom of my feet as I
ran. It was easier to run where the water met the shore, and each wave
erased the signs of my passage.

At last, I could run no further, and I sat down wearily, my feet
playing with the wet sand as I struggled to catch my breath. A cramp
dogged my ribs on the right side. Every seventh wave kissed me and
then receded.

Wetness traced down my left cheek. I idly brushed away the moisture. I
was so sure she'd be here. Somewhere.

After I caught my breath, I walked slowly up through the dry sand,
cherishing the residual warmth.

The water continued its unceasing motion as I stood and watched. The
sun peeked out from behind the horizon, glinting from the myriad of
waves on the bay. The morning breeze caught my tangled hair, swirling
it around my shoulders.

The water held no answers, as usual. But there was something there,
comforting and close.

The sand stretched on forever, never answering, but ever there.

                         <---===***===--->

I sat under a palm, eyes watching the water, the surf, the sand, and
the small figure sitting quietly near the edge of the water.

She sat alone, a white dress fluttering about her ankles, her arms
wrapped around her knees, hugging herself and rocking as the sun began
its daily journey. The red disc of the sun began burning off the haze
floating above the water. The girl sat watching the dawn, the breeze
occasionally tossing her free brunette hair about her figure as though
it wanted to kiss her.

The song came unbidden to my mind; I seemed unable to stop the words.
She was so beautiful, unaware of me, beginning a new day together. I
didn't know if I'd ever touch her again. The knot grew in my belly,
but I remained quiet. I couldn't disturb her. Not yet.

"You are the angel of the morning, Angel."

The girl below, as if she could hear the melody I silently sung,
turned slowly. Her eyes, swollen, but still vibrant and expressive,
caught mine.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. Somehow, my voice carried to the girl where
the ocean met the shore.

"I," she began falteringly. "I. Missed you."

We were silent for a moment.

"The ocean is alive," she continued. "The ocean and the salt and the
sand. They're mysterious, but wise. Our footprints fade, you know?"

I understood, and I nodded. I spent more time here than Claire did.
But she understood. I inhaled deeply, wiping yet another tear from my
right cheek.

"Claire, he took second base. I didn't give it to him. I don't want
him. Never did. He's probably locked up in some cell in that school
for wayward boys. Please come home."

Claire looked surprised as what I was saying took a moment to register
in her mind, but in an instant she was beside me, a trail from her
bare feet leading from the shore to where I sat under the palm. And
then she held me.

After the tears abated, I raised her right palm. She let me. I stared
at her wrist, and the marks upon it, for a long time. I touched the
marks twice, softly brushed her skin with my lips, the welts fiery and
comforting.

When I looked up, her eyes held understanding and something that I
couldn't quite fathom.

I met her lips, the memories of Jason melting into visions of Claire
and her soft, gentle kisses.

                         <---===***===--->

Our bare feet left a trail through the wet sand, the waves
occasionally wiping the evidence of our passage and burying our toes.

Hand in hand, the sun rising to our left, we made our way back.

Before we stepped back towards the dorm, I stopped, gazing out across
the water. Claire stood with me, her fingers entwined with mine. Her
hair swirled in the morning breeze. We kissed once more, the sun, the
ocean and the sand the only witnesses.

The sand never reveals its secrets.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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