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From: Sara Hart <sara_h2020@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest] Intuition (Sara H) (FF,FD,MC,Horror,Rom,Caution)
Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 21:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Intuition_.txt" begin>

2002 ROMANCE FESTIVAL ROMANCE CLASSICS


*If you are younger than 18 years
If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words full of sexual sleaze
Do us both a favor and skip this please.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere.

- Sara*

I decided to submit this story to the 2002 Summer Solstice
Romance Festival on ASSTR in the Romance Classics section.
I decided to do so because the story is a strange mix of
love and fear, of hatred and redemption, of horror and
enlightenment. Comments on this story are included at the
end.

-------------------------------------------------------

Intuition

by Sara H

Categories: FF,FD,MC,Horror,Rom,Caution

-------------------------------------------------------

I had no idea that the backroads of Florida were infested
with so many rednecks. I was finding out really fast,
though. My partner, significant other, or whatever-is-
comfortable-for-you-to-call-it Belinda and I had been
driving most of the day on our way to the La Paradisio
resort on the gulf coast. The trip had been nice enough,
and we were glad to get the time alone together. Between
our careers... well, her career. I don't think being a
manager of a shoe store qualifies as more than a job, at
least for me. Anyway, our relationship had been suffering
from a lack of time, and this trip was likely going to be a
turning point for us, one way or the other.

Getting harassed by Billy-Bob Brownteeth and his friends
was not what I expected. All I did was stop for gas. As I
walked in to get a soda, I saw them sitting around in the
dingy light, staring at me. They made a few comments about
my ass as I passed by on my way to the racks of cans. I
ignored them. They got louder. I ignored them more. It had
always worked before. I got a shiver of premonition. I
should have listened, but what can I say? Ignoring catcalls
had always done me just fine.

As I walked up to the counter, Billy-Bob, complete with
sweaty t-shirt and greasy hair, stepped in front of me,
blocking my path.

"What's the matter baby, you have a thing for the bitch in
the car, or just can't handle a real man?" sneered Billy-
Bob, grabbing his crotch and moving closer. I sighed. It
was one thing to put up with heckling aimed at me. But
calling Belinda a bitch made my blood boil.

I turned and looked at him. My anger rose and my judgement
faltered just as quickly. "I don't see any real men here,
bubba," I said, letting my voice lilt. "All I see is a
bunch of ignorant, inbred assholes who use corncobs for
more than just wiping their asses. Find me a *man* and
maybe I'll fuck *him.*"

My head jerked back as someone grabbed my hair from
behind, and I thought my back was going to break as I was
dragged and then bent backward over the counter. I looked
upward into the face of Jimmy-Joe Pustule, the cashier. "I
think you owe us an apology, you fucking cunt," he said,
the smell of stale beer and onions forcing its way into my
nose. The "Woops," I muttered under my breath did not
describe my sudden sense of fear and regret, and suddenly I
was desperately hoping that Belinda was looking this
direction.

A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up off
the counter, and then pushed me down to my knees. It was
Billy-Bob, his face distorted with a 'That's *Mister*
Brownteeth to you, bitch' look. His actual words were a
little more in keeping with his character. "You also owe my
asshole an apology, you goddamn whore. I think you should
kiss and make up with it, after you clean out big daddy's
peckersnot!"

Where the fuck was Belinda? "Oh, boys..." came a sultry
voice, answering my question. The hands on my shoulders let
go and I ducked to the floor and scurried away.  "Why
bother with her? She just sells shoes. Now me, I fuck like
a dream."

I peeked and counted five men, standing and gawking, jaws
slacked, staring at my lovely Belinda. Their pants looked
like horizontal tents. Well, except for Billy-Bob
Brownteeth. He only had a pup tent. *I should have guessed
as much,* I thought, smiling inwardly. *An ego is a
terrible thing to waste...*

"But since we're on the subject, shoes are nice, don't you
think? Especially ladies' shoes. Ladies shoes with high
heels. In fact, I bet you boys even like to wear them,"
Belinda said, her voice almost musical. "Call it
intuition... I see the things you try to hide, even from
yourself," she continued conspiratorially, "and I can tell
how very, very perverted you are.

"You can't even get off unless you are wearing your
lovers' shoes, can you? It doesn't matter that they hurt
from being too small. It gets you hot. In fact, what you
really want is to wear your their shoes all the time, isn't
that so?"

The "boys" made no motion... they were totally captivated.

"And your first obligation for today was to go buy your
women some shiny, stiletto heeled 'fuck-me' pumps, which
will, of course, be your favorites. Especially to wear to
work. And golly, look at the time. Seven P.M. I think you
stalwart fellows have some shopping to do."

The room thundered with a stampede for the door, leaving
just Belinda and me, holding in our nervous laughter. Oh,
she was evil. I thanked God she was my lover and friend.

Funny or not, I was shaken, and as Belinda pulled me into
her arms, I broke down and the dam burst. "It's okay,
baby," she soothed. "They're not going to bother you or
anyone else now... I love you, Alyssa... shhhh... shhhhh..."

Her tender kisses on my cheeks finally quieted the tears
and trembling, and I snuffled and gasped out a laugh, still
choked from my crying, as I wiped off my nose and smiled,
red-eyed and grateful.

What Mr. Brownteeth and Company didn't know, but would
soon find out, was that Belinda only spoke the truth. So
much so, that no matter what she said, it *was* the truth,
and it was total, and permanent. Unless the truth changed.
But she got to say.

There was a time when the truth would have been that I
didn't remember any of this. Now, sadly, the truth is that
I remember it all so perfectly that I can't forget the
slightest detail.

Belinda left a twenty on the counter for our gas, and we
got back on the road. I let Belinda drive. I was still
shaking from how close I had come to being raped. I
couldn't get rid of the smell of beer and onions, and I
guess my anxiety was still showing in my face, because
Belinda said, "You know, Alyssa, there's no need for you to
remember that we even stopped."

"We stopped?" I asked. "Was I sleeping?"

"Yes, sweetie, and I didn't want to wake you," she said,
gently touching my face with her fingers.

-------------------------------------------------------

When we got to the resort, it was already dark. It was
hard to find - well, maybe that's not quite accurate. It
was on a stretch of road, in the middle of nowhere, so we
kept wondering if we had passed it. As it turned out, it
was a good thing we were watching, because the only
indication of its existence, at least on this moonless
night, was a small, neatly painted sign at the end of a
long driveway.

I was a little let down - I had been expecting something
with more pizzazz., and this promised to be little more
than a typical coastal condo rental, if that.

We pulled up to a white, stucco building with a mauve
screen door. At least it had a porch light. A little gray-
haired man answered our knock, and let us in. Once inside,
it turned out to have a comfy little registration area.
Very cozy, with a yellow warmth that reminded me,
ironically, of warm cottages in the cold winters in New
England.

I was impressed by the fact that the little man seemed
genuinely glad to see us. He was incredibly welcoming, and
offered us a complimentary bottle of wine that he said came
with registration. We couldn't decide on white or red, so
he generously gave us a bottle of each. It was a surprising
and genuinely warm gesture, and even now the thought makes
me smile.

Finally, with the registration filled out, and our cottage
assigned, we went back to the car and followed the rather
complicated instructions to our home for the next two weeks.

As we unpacked the car, and carried our bags to the
landing outside our humble abode, I held my breath, waiting
for the disappointment that was sure to follow.

"Don't worry, it will be perfect," said Belinda, as she
turned the key in the lock.

It was.

And it wasn't one of Belinda's manipulations, either. My
first impressions had never been more wrong. The queen-size
bed, which was all of entrance room, was covered with a
white crocheted bedspread. The needlework was magnificent.
And, draped over the four tall bedposts were white sheers
of silk. I know it sounds simple, but it was breathtaking.

The living room and kitchen were upstairs, and equally
graciously appointed. After a look around, and a little
unpacking, we went back downstairs to go to bed.

I went into the bathroom, and decided that my pussy needed
a little trim. Belinda liked it clipped very short, and I
thought it would be a good way to start off our vacation.

I walked back into the bedroom and saw that the covers
were already turned back.  I head a noise from upstairs,
and turned around.  I watched, fascinated as Belinda's
long, shapely legs descended, followed by her shapely,
voluptuous body.

Belinda was not skinny, nor was she overweight. She had
let herself into her thirties with soft, rounded features
and an exotic face that seemed to exude lust when she was
turned on.

Her delicate hands slid down the banister in complete
silence, and I watched in utter fascination as if her body
was appearing out of nothingness, forming before me.
Romantic? Romantic is not even the word. Erotic? Seductive?
Surely somewhere there is a word that embodies all of
these, but I don't know what it is.

Her face finally came into view, her eyes heavy with
burning lust and desire. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed
onto her shoulders as if she were floating under water. I
had never seen her so completely alluring. It was as if she
were pulling my deepest fantasies of making love with her
right out of my head. Maybe she was. It doesn't really
matter. She was doing it because she loved me.

She walked over and lifted my hand, placing it on her
breast. I let my eyes close, feeling her heart beat wildly,
her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed. I
stood there in that timeless moment, completely oblivious
to anything around us. Remembering our love. This was the
promised land.

"You want me," she said, the words burning hotly into my
brain. "There will never be another love like this."

I felt her mouth move close to mine, her warm breath
traipsing over my face, heating it into molten desire. Her
tongue traced the outline of my lips, dancing and seducing
them until they were slightly twitching, the hunger in them
trying to jump out to her.

Her lips met mine, and I fell into her, my passion so
intense that I could not keep my mind from whirling
nonsensically. My kisses left her lips to tenderly cover
her face... her ears... her neck. My hands freely roamed
body, pulling her tighter to me, sealed together by the
rising hunger of wanton fucklust. Tonight I wanted to know
her body completely, and I was aching with the desire to
burn her existence into my own. I had felt love and desire
for her before, but this was so far beyond, that even now I
am not sure I can feel it all at once.

She led me to the bed, and we lay down, our eyes staring
into each other, into some swirling dance of eternity, and
the only phrase that entered my mind was 'soul-fucking'.

My mouth glided down her neck to her breast, my tongue
finding the aureole and circling, the nipple raising
itself, long enough to touch my lips. I greedily pulled it
in and suckled as I let my tongue swirl and flick, hearing
Belinda's first moans of promised passion. I stayed there
for ages, letting each movement of obsessed sex fill me
over and over, like the breaking waves we could hear in the
distance.

Without even thinking, our bodies intertwined and writhed
together, every motion a part of a perfect ballet. It was
like fantasy... even when she slipped and lost her balance,
I had already moved so that it only gave us each a new
source of greedy teasing and arousal.

Somehow, we ended up in a tight sixty-nine position, or as
Belinda called it, the yummy yoni yin-yang. My fingers
closed around her ass, pulling and lightly scratching, and
I felt her tongue press down on my hot little clit, finally
popping it outward so that a wave over pleasure spasmed
down my legs, making my toes open and curl, over and over,
in pure, reflexive delight.

I was losing all inhibition, and thoughts that I had found
revolting suddenly shifted as I became determined to gift
my glorious Belinda with every pleasure I could muster. I
shifted slightly, and stretched upward until my tongue
pressed against her tiny, brown pucker. The taste was
completely different than I had expected, and I felt her
tremble with unexpected pleasure.

I pressed and circled, turned on by the taboo, wishing
suddenly that this love, this glorious manifestation of
lust, could be seen by more than just the two of us. I felt
my mind going out of control, the waves of pleasure coming
faster and faster, and I let my tongue slide down to her
pussy, voraciously suckling in her clit, circling and
flicking with light, lightning fast licks, pulling the
blood into it, engorging her precious nubbin, as my finger
replaced my tongue in her asshole.

I could feel her reaching the crest of the hill, her
reactions slowing as she tensed for her climax, and my own
body responded, the thrill of making her cum raising my own
pleasure until we were tensed in unison, like two lovers
holding hands, ready to leap together into eternity. I
could feel her heart, beating completely in sync with my
own, and I screamed the scream of the ancestral world, lost
as the blackness and tingling vision overtook my mind, her
mind, nothing but pleasure beyond thought, pleasure that
was an ocean and we were drowning happily forever as our
souls intertwined in beauty and blissful ecstasy...

I awoke, barely aware that I had passed out, my body still
tingling and waves still passing, to the sound of Belinda
crying. No, she was sobbing. Wracking sobs that cut deeply
into my heart.

"Oh, God, what's wrong, Bel?" I asked, pulling her close
to me.

"It's... it's... I don't know, Alyssa. I just love you so
much... I don't want to lose you..."

"Shhhh love, there's no need to worry... I'm not going
anywhere..."

"No, you don't understand," she groaned, followed by words
I couldn't make out through her wracking sobs.  After a few
minutes she seemed to gain control. "I'm sorry I'm so
silly, Allyson... that was just so beautiful..."

"Let's go to sleep, love. In the morning it will all be
fine, and I'll still be here with you."

Putting it down to an emotional upheaval brought on by the
most intense sexual experience of our lives, I held her as
we went to sleep, a sleep filled with odd, unsettling
dreams.

-------------------------------------------------------

The next morning I awoke to find myself alone. That was
pretty usual; Belinda always liked her morning walks. I
decided to go upstairs and have an apple or some fruit or
something. Humming to myself, happier than I could ever
remember being, I poured myself some orange juice and fixed
myself a cinnamon bagel, and walked into the living room
and spied my love looking out the window at the ocean,
sitting in a chair she had pulled over.

I don't know if I'll ever forget that moment, the waves
lapping the shore, her beautiful strawberry blond hair
draped over the back of the chair.

"Good morning, lover!" I said cheerily.

Something took a few seconds to hit as no response came.
Confusion, concern, denial, worry, all mixed together. I
walked around the chair, praying to God that she had merely
fallen asleep. Asleep. Please...

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

The only thing this... thing... had in common with my
lovely soulmate was the hair it bore, and my horrified mind
could not come to grips. Like something out of the Twilight
Zone, this corpse sat, with empty dead eyes, one eyelid
half closed, that watched the eternity of the breaking
waves. The lips that I had kissed were shriveled and
dried... flaking away...  leaving nothing but a gaping hole
for a mouth. I vomited, falling to the floor.

Whatever it was, it wasn't -- couldn't be -- my beloved.

My mind went strangely blank and numb... I remember seeing
the slats of sunlight on the kitchen table and thinking how
remarkably bright they were... the reflected light off of
the crystal sugar bowl made a rainbow on the wall.

I couldn't think at all, could not cope. I grabbed at the
passing thought that this quickly rotting cadaver was not
Belinda, but I immediately knew with certainty that it was.
I tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked off
scream.

Sometime later, I'm not sure when, I walked back over to
the horror in the chair.  Her eyes had disappeared, leaving
empty, black caverns where beautiful green had once
resided. It was deteriorating quickly. I held back the
cackling laughter running inside my head and looked down
across it's/her body. I don't know why I had not noticed
before. Yes I do. It was the shock. Anyway, underneath what
had been the hand of a thousand caresses, was a note. I
gently pulled it free and opened it.

      My dearest love,

      How much I would have preferred to be with
      you this morning, drinking in the loveliness
	of your eyes. Of all the things I will miss,
	you are the treasure that I wish I could
	carry into the next realm...

It went on and on, and I was alternately filled with love,
and anger, and grief at what I read. It read like a sick
joke, but my eyes told me that it was not.

Belinda/she/it was not human.

But the feelings had been real. I had been under the
influence of a fa ade, Belinda's fa ade, created to help me
love her, and in so doing, teach her to experience love.

Her influence was so great that she could control my
memory, my perceptions, my desire... but she never made me
love her. To be of value, it had to be given freely. Now
that she was dead, her influence no longer could be
maintained and I could only see her and remember her as she
truly was, in that horrifying moment.

Her body was deteriorating even more rapidly now. By the
next morning, she would be completely gone.

The memories she had given and taken away over the years
would have stayed with me but for the one gift that she had
for me, the only thing she could leave me. As we had made
love the night before, she used up much of the little
remaining time and energy she had left instilling me with
the gift of Intuitive Truth, the gift she had used to
protect and love me for so many years.

As a result, my memories were now completely intact. I
knew everything she did to me and for me.  Every joy and
sorrow was constantly with me in its fullest intensity. It
was a gift, a curse, a joy and misery all at once.

I felt betrayed and angry, loving and loved, used and
useful... giving and gifted... but the biggest part of me,
the part that held grief I had in losing her, would never
go away.

Even now, her words sing sorrow into my shattered heart:
"There will never be another love like this."

It is intuitive. It is the truth.

---- ---- ---- ----

On the road back north, I stopped in to see some old
friends: Billy-Bob Brownteeth and his cohorts. I don't know
why I did, exactly. Maybe it was in tribute to my beloved
Belinda, or maybe it was because I was simply in so much
pain.

They were sitting around, apparently as usual, with one
small difference. They were all wearing bright red patent
leather four-inch stiletto healed sandals. They were
obviously too small for them, and if I had been able to
pity them, I might have changed it.

But... today it was not to be. They watched me with raging
erections, as their footwear commanded them, but they kept
quiet. I stood in the door, unsure of what, if anything, I
wanted to do. Billy-Bob finally made the decision for me.
"Well, bitch, what are you staring at?" he said, grimacing.
I was in no mood.

"I was just wondering why you boys were sitting around...
it doesn't make sense when all you want to do is give each
other head and fuck each other. Ohhhh, yes, you forgot to
invite your buddies from work to come watch. Don't worry,
there's still time to invite them over for a beer and
surprise them with a show."

I didn't even stay to watch them fight over the phone.

I know it was mean. I don't fucking care.

I miss Belinda.

-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------


Comments for the Romance Festival:

"Intutition" was a cathartic story for me. It's loosely
based on a true story of a trip to Seaside, Florida (where
the Truman Show was later filmed). The little filling
station full of dangerous men was real, and "Belinda's"
rescue also, although it was all much more psychological
than physical.

Belinda didn't die in real life... her death is symbolic
of the end of our relationship. She did pass on later,
unexpectedly... to my sorrow, we were never close again.
This is the story of how I grieved for her, and how I got
to love her while she was alive and in my life... and how I
will always love her.


Please send any comments or feedback to sara_h2020@yahoo.com

- Sara

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