Message-ID: <44331asstr$1063746603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Goldberry X-Original-Message-ID: Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT NNTP-posting-date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 21:05:16 MDT User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 03:05:16 +0000 (GMT) Subject: {ASSM} RP Tom Bombadil - Angie Baby [foreplay only] Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 17:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates Reposted with permission Goldberry Goldberry12spam@hotmail.spamcom (you can figure this out :) Emails to me or posts to ass.d will also be read by Tom. Enjoy! Angie Baby - [foreplay only] By Tom Bombadil (c) May 1997 Short story #25 Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer. This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives. You've been warned. I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story. Warning - there is no real sex in this story, just some intense foreplay and innuendo. I do not make any claims to the lyrics used. See notes at end. ******************************************************************** "Angie! Angie!! Turn that music down!" yelled Dan down the hall towards his daughter's room. The volume dropped by a dozen decibels, which made conversation in the front of the house possible, but he knew the respite would only be temporary. When Angie was in one of her moods, nothing could long keep her from blasting out the music. He and Janice, his wife, exchanged pained looks, knowing each other's thoughts almost perfectly at that moment. Slowly, over the course of years, they had come to realize that their daughter was not fully sane, and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Counsellors had talked and listened until they went practically nuts themselves trying to crack through her shell. Psychiatrists had hemmed and hawed and tried all their neat tricks and puzzles, and failed to penetrate her outer mask. Doctors had poked and prodded and scanned and ran test after test, finally deciding that Angie was, in fact, in perfect health. Everyone agreed, though, that she was just a little strange. Everyone except Angie. She had long since given up trying to have anyone else share what she knew of reality, things she had discovered as a child, things that others knew to be impossible. So she learned to wear a girl-mask, and then a teen-mask, until the day Gary Planchett had cornered her, alone, in an empty room at school. Nobody believed her when she said he was trying to do more than just kiss her, even though she told him no. He was a model student, a member of the school council, and was a top performer in baseball and soccer. He had a girlfriend already, one of the cheerleaders, so he didn't need to force himself on her. But he had, and she had stopped him. Plastic surgery had repaired most of his face, but couldn't fix his damaged eye. Nobody believed her. Her bruises didn't matter to them. She was taken out of school. Angie had no friends there anyway, so she considered it no great hardship. By that time, she believed that she knew everything they were going to teach her. When she wrote tests, she got everything right. Always. The answers were always available to her if she didn't know them already. Nobody ever caught her cheating in a normal manner, and nobody ever believed her when she told them how she cheated, so they called her brilliant, gifted, a prodigy. They also said she was on the wrong side of a certain fine line, speaking as though she wouldn't understand the reference. That was another barrier between her and the normal world, especially between her and anyone in school who might have been brave enough to try and make friends with her. She retreated into songs, music, rock and roll, and the radio. Music had always been there for her, and she had always loved listening to the melodies and the stories. She began to live them. They became her life. Just more proof that she was crazy. ********** You live your life in the songs you hear on the rock & roll radio And when a young girl doesn't have any friends, that's a really nice place to go Folks hopin' you'd turn out cool, but they had to take you outa school You're a little touched you know, Angie baby. ********** Dan and Janice both heaved a sigh of relief when the music suddenly stopped. Silence filled the house, sounding very strange after three hours of songs played at a very high volume. Slowly, other noises came to be heard - the ticking of the kitchen clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the honking and roaring of distant traffic. "Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a walk!" Angie shouted, as she made her way towards the back door. Dan nodded, then watched his little girl stroll through the yard, out the gate, and down the lane. "She looks like a normal fifteen year old," he thought to himself as he stared out the window. "She sounds like a normal fifteen year old too. Why can't she be a normal fifteen year old?" His eyes caught sight of her again part way down the alley. At five foot five, she wasn't terribly tall or terribly short. At ninety-five pounds she was probably a little thin for her height, but she was still blossoming. Her light brown hair was shiny and clean, slightly curled, and was just a little more than shoulder length. It was worn loose, as usual. Green eyes, already looking large in her small, elfin face, were made to seem absolutely huge and luminous with just a touch of makeup. Smiling was a thing she did often, usually because of something in her private little world. Her perfect white teeth, which had never needed braces, were almost all put on display by her generously wide mouth. Lightly tanned skin, a faint, natural blush, and features that were regular and even, combined to create a budding sensuality. Despite her youth and lack of full development, she was proud of her body. Breasts the size of small apples, hips starting to spread, a very narrow waist, long legs, and slender thighs and calves gave her a look of youthful innocence with that hint of wantonness so many older boys and men found attractive. She was becoming beautiful. Another pair of eyes watched her as she walked down the alley. There was no bemusement there, no love, no tenderness. Lust and desire filled them, leaving no room for anything else. Bob, their next door neighbour's son, was staring out of an upstairs window. His thoughts were far from pure. Bob was not a nice guy. He was a senior in high school, got very good grades, was the star quarterback, and had himself a scholarship to a prestigious college. He also collected notches on his belt. Being a tall, good looking blond hunk, well muscled, and a suave, debonair kind of smooth talker, he had a regular string of girls that put out for him. He used them, but they weren't enough. They were too easy. He liked collecting notches. At seventeen, he was both worldly experienced and hardened. There was an extreme lack of normal morality or conscience inside his person. He'd already been into the panties of every loose girl in school. All the girls that weren't so easy, but liked to party, he'd had too. Slipping a Mickey Finn to a girl he wanted was perfectly acceptable, in his eyes. His favourite memories were of the sixteen year old Fawsey twins. Both were out at a senior party for the first time. Both went with dates. Both drank the special rum and cokes he made. Both were virgins when he had them. He left them lying in bed together when they started recovering. Both blamed their dates when they regained their senses. Any girl that was rumoured not to scream when cornered he'd also had. Willingness was not a prerequisite for his conquests. One girl, Stacy, had learned not to bother struggling whenever he wanted her. All she did was cry, turn around, and drop her pants and panties. Neither was age a barrier to his desires. Anything growing breasts was fair game for his lusts, young or old. One fourteen year old girl that he seduced, then raped, was just barely pubescent. By the time he finished playing with her mind, she believed everything was her fault and her idea. She was his willing sex toy, pretending to enjoy his vaginal, oral, and anal attentions. He grew tired of her after two months and gave her to a couple of his football buddies. His thirty-four year old math teacher was his oldest victim. He blackmailed her into having sex with him. He had her at least once a week for an entire school year, and he insisted that it be without any protection whatsoever. She gave birth the following August, then moved away. They never saw or spoke to each other again. Bob was definitely not a nice guy, and he was watching Angie with that same gleam he had when starting his other conquests. He had seen her naked many times, as he stood outside, in the dark, watching through her bedroom window. He believed that she wasn't concerned about being careful since her window was ten feet above ground level, but he was resourceful. He had watched as her flat breasts swelled out to small handfuls, as her hips changed from vertical to slightly curvy, and as her bottom grew from little girl to rounded woman. His favourite times were when she played sexy or romantic songs. 'Only You' was a song that she danced slow to. 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' was one she danced to like a crazy person, her small breasts swinging all over the place. Anything by Dr. Hook had her lying on the bed, hands between her legs, bouncing up and down. Watching her jerk off, seeing her teen breasts rolling around, absorbing all the looks of passion and ecstasy that ran across her face, always had him hard as a rock and jerking himself off right then and there. He always imagined himself in the room, laying on top of her, pumping his seed into her belly, impregnating her with his child. Those were always some of the best climaxes of his life. He even used that fantasy sometimes when he was with one of his normal girls. He liked what he saw, and he had finally decided to take her. A plan had formed. The idea in his head came from overhearing Lyn, his mother, and Janice, her mother, having another of their talks about Angie. "She's definitely a bit touched. Still talks about all kinds of wild things. Things that just never happened." "One day she swore that Meatloaf came to her room and made love to her. She played Paradise by the Dashboard Lights over and over and over again until Dan took the record away from her." "What else?" "How about Jerry Lee Lewis? She told us she went to the movies with him, and they kissed and petted in the dark on the balcony. She said he was circumcised." "You've got a ... very strange girl." Lyn paused for a moment before continuing. "What's her wildest one so far?" "Oh, she claimed that the school's entire soccer team abducted her from the middle of the park and took her to a secluded glade. They then stripped and danced with her for hours, all in the nude. Then they all kissed her on the lips and the nipples and the pussy, got dressed, and took her home. Only when we pressured her did she admit that it was her ghosts doing the deed, not the real team. She's going to drive me batty with her wild fantasies one day." "You poor dear. Here, let me get you some more tea." Bob had his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. The next Friday, Dan and Janice left town for the night. Naturally, Lyn, and therefore Bob, knew all about it. Angie, despite her strangeness, had long since proven that she could safely be left on her own. Lyn also went out for the evening, on a date with a guy she was involved with. Those dates usually lasted until the following afternoon. Bob had his opportunity, and his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. "Hi, Angie. How'ya doin'?" He watched her face very carefully, seeing what he took to be nervousness, awe, and a touch of fear in her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Can I come in? I forgot my keys at school and I'm waitin' for a friend to bring 'em over. He said he'd be here 'bout ten or so." Bob figured five hours alone with Angie ought to be plenty of time to do anything he wanted, regardless of how she reacted. "I guess. As long as you don't make a mess, and you take off your shoes, and you say please, and you promise to do as you are told." He smiled warmly and with apparent sincerity. "I promise." Bob stood there for a few seconds, looking at her, waiting for her to finish opening the door. Finally, he grew impatient. "Well?" he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. "Well?" she replied, with a sour look on her face. After another short pause, he came to realize what she was waiting for. "Please, may I come in?" She smiled brightly, pulling the door wide open for him. When he walked inside, she stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could take two steps. "No, no, no, you naughty boy. What did I just tell you?" It took several more seconds for him to remember what else she had said. Only when his shoes were off did she let him proceed. "Have a seat on the couch. Would you like a drink? Koolaid? Orange juice? Ginger ale? Milk?" "You got anything a little, uh, stronger, maybe?" "Oh, you're one of *those*, are you? Someone who doesn't like the world as it is, who needs the edges removed, the barriers lowered. Here, I'll sneak some of my Dad's vodka. He'll never miss it." She got him his drink - vodka and orange - a double at least, by his estimate, and he watched her face and body as she moved around the bar. His cock got hard, imagining her without the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing. He didn't recognize the music she had playing, but then again, he didn't know or care much about music anyway. The words seemed appropriate, at least to him - "... all in all you're just a 'nother brick in the wall." Bob grinned in anticipation, crossing his legs to hide the bulge that was forming. "Aren't you gonna join me? After all, it ain't polite lettin' your guest drink alone." "No, I don't think so. Reality flows and changes enough for me already. I don't need depressants or stimulants to make things even weirder. You'll be drinking enough for both of us. Besides, terrible things could happen if *I* were to lose control!" She laughed, as though what she had said was uproariously funny. Angie sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a glass of ice water, watching him. Bob was a little nonplussed by her words and actions. They weren't those of any fifteen year old he'd put the make on before. "I guess she is weird," he thought. "This might be too damned easy." "I heard that your folks are gone for the night. Is it for somethin' special?" "Sort of. Dad says it's for business, but I know better. They just want to get away and be *alone* together. Mom doesn't like doing *it* with me in the house. She thinks I'm spooky." He thought hard for a few seconds. "Are you spooky? You seen them doin' *it*? Or do you even know what *it* is?" With a wicked and wanton grin, she replied. "Yes, and yes, and I know all about the birds and the bees and making whoopie." Bob grinned back. "So you know all about it. You've seen and done it all. You're an experienced woman. I got just one question - how many real guys you done it with?" A wistful look chased away her grin. "I've only ever done it with the ghosts and spirits I conjure up. They aren't very satisfying, because they only ever do what I can already do myself. And I have all these dreams ..." "You've ain't never done it for real then. You ever kissed a guy? You ever even had a real climax?" "Kissing. The act of pressing lips on lips. If tongues are exchanged, Frenching is the proper term. Only once, a few years ago, with a boy I didn't like, who forced me to French him. It was disgusting. I've wondered ever since what it would have been like if he had been nice." "Hmmm. Y'know, kissin' someone nice is somethin' you gotta be taught. Then you gotta practice. It's like playin' a piano. Anyone can play with one finger, but you gotta have lots of training and practice to sound like Mozart." That was a line he'd used, successfully, several times before. "Taught. Practice. Piano. Mozart. I wonder if he ever tried playing with his lips. Then again, he being a he, he probably didn't have the right lips to play with!" She laughed again, almost maniacally, at her own words. The young man didn't know what to make of her conversation. "Bob," Angie said, speaking in a soft, little-girl voice, "do you know how to dance really good? Can you teach me?" Her look of innocent pleading prompted a new surge in his manhood. Events were not unfolding in any way, shape, or form like he had envisioned them. The script was being followed, rather loosely, but he felt like their parts were written by completely different people for completely different plays, and they were only superficially appearing to mesh. His hormones and lust overrode any reservations running through his brain. "Yeah, I could, on one condition." "What? What do you need for dancing?" "I'll teach you to dance, if you'll also let me teach you to kiss. Deal?" Bob had also used 'dancing' and 'the deal' as a seduction ploy a few times. The reality of pressing body to body, with hands free to roam at will, had turned on many of his dates beyond the point of no return. He thought it a fortunate coincidence that she wanted to learn how. "Kiss. You want to dance and ... kiss. Okay. Deal, for now. Wait here. I'll go find the right mood." Ten minutes later, Bob was getting quite antsy and worried. That's when the classic voice of Tom Jones started up. As Angie walked into the living room some few minutes later, he stood to greet the new her, lust and amazement fighting for dominance on his face. Gone were the jeans and white socks. Gone was the t-shirt. Gone was the bra she'd been wearing. A black velvet minidress hung from spaghetti straps crossing her flawless white shoulders. The upper half concealed enough of her breasts to keep her legal, at least in most states. Her chest was revealed right down to the bottom of her breastbone, and the sides of her dress swept down the outside of her body, beginning their rearward journey only when they reached the bottom of her ribs, ending just above the beginning of her bottom, revealing the dimples in the small of her back. The hem sat several inches above mid-thigh. She twirled to show herself off. His eyes kept travelling of their own accord, as they lacked any guidance from his higher brain functions for a moment or two. Black patent heels, sheer charcoal gray nylons, a silver necklace, silver quarter-moon earrings, and one wrist full of bangles completed her apparel. Her hair, which had been down, was done up in a complex braid of some kind, leaving several wisps of light brown hanging in a frame around her face, a face which he couldn't quit staring at. She was beautiful - young, innocent, and vulnerable, like one of those waifs seen in the fashion magazines. Green eyes, large and luminescent, blinked a few times as she watched his reaction. Bob began drooling, in two places, as he envisioned his cock being sucked on by those pale, innocent, lips. His imagination supplied him with several different expressions for her, from wanton lust to outright fear and revulsion. In all cases though, he was buried to the hilt in her throat. He had to shake his head to clear it of the images and toss back the rest of his drink before he could say hello again. ********** Angie, baby, you're a special lady Livin' in a world of make believe - well, maybe Stoppin' at her house is a neighbor boy with evil on his mind Cause he's been peekin' in Angie's room at night thru her window-blind I see your folks have gone away, would you dance with me today I'll show you how to have a good time, Angie baby ********** Bob taught Angie how to slow dance, showing her how to hold him, what steps to use, and got her to relax and move smoothly. It was hard for him to believe she had never danced like that before, because she seemed to learn incredibly fast. Within ten minutes they were pressed body to body, her arms reaching up to circle his neck, his arms around her waist. He liked the feel of her young body. It was firm, yet soft and pliable, and she moved sensuously and with sure steps. One of his hands wandered down her bare back, slipping into her dress. Again he was startled, as he found no panties or pantyhose - just her bare bottom. "Eek! Take your hand out of there! You haven't earned that yet!" After another quick feel and accompanying eek, he returned his hand to her back. Her words disturbed him yet again. It seemed to him, more and more, that she was toying with him, following a story he had not yet read. His mind was confused, but his lust was certain. Angie giggled, then whispered into his ear. "Well, we're dancing. Are you gonna teach me to kiss now? And the answer to your other question is yes. As you well know." There was a slight hitch to his movements as his brain tried to catch up with her words. "Other question?" he asked. "Yes. You remember. You asked me if I'd ever had a ... you know." "What? Had a what?" "A climax. Like you asked, yes I have." A small twinge of fear flashed through his body. "And how am I supposed to know that?" "You are silly, aren't you. I mean, my Dr. Hook albums are almost worn out. I played one of them every other time you were outside watching! Now then, you wanted to teach me to kiss, remember?" His feet stumbled for a second and his heart skipped a couple of beats before Angie reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. He found her willing, tasty, and very much inexperienced. His heart began beating a little faster and he almost forgot his shock. The fingers of one hand wandered around to her front, under her dress, heading for a nipple. They got slapped away. "Not until you teach me to kiss good!" That was a task he enjoyed, despite the strangeness he felt in the situation. "She definitely ain't all there," he thought. "But, what the hell. She's hot, and I'm fuckin' ready." They eventually moved to the couch, with her straddling his lap. He figured she either didn't notice or wasn't bothered by his erection, or the wet spot developing on his pants. They kissed, with her getting better with every passing moment. Bob decided it was time to get serious. He slid the straps off her shoulders, baring her breasts. They were white, cone shaped, not yet fully grown, and capped with small pink nipples. His cock jumped in anticipation. He wanted this woman-child. Badly. His fingers traced around her mounds, eventually reaching their goal. Two pale pink little soldiers rose to attention under his gentle touch. With a moan, his lips left hers and captured one hard nipple. Her moan joined his as she pulled his head in closer. Trailing wet kisses down one hill, through the valley, and up the far side, he moved to the other sentry, the one standing stiffer than ever before. Tiny whimpers coming from her throat were as music to his lust-besotted mind. He believed she was hot and ready for anything he wanted. He wanted everything she had to give. And more. Using both hands, he pushed up the hem of her dress, caressing her thighs and buttocks, exposing those most secret places to his gaze. Her bush had barely gotten a good start, hiding little more than the centre of her mound. All else was covered in a fine, nearly invisible velvet. Another gasp escaped from her lips as his hands squeezed her soft, velvety smooth bottom. The strangeness continued, as she called his name. "Bob. Bob! Listen to me! You promised to do what I told you, remember? Kiss me. Kiss me some more!" So he did, lifting his head from her chest. Both his hands remained occupied with her hips and thighs, fondling and learning about her flesh. Some minutes later, his lips started wandering again. "Bob!" she whispered. "Stop right there! I gotta know right now! Before we go any further, do you love me?" "What?" That strangeness was back in full force. His glands answered with the response he had used so often before. "Yes!" He tried recapturing the lost soldier, but her hands held his head captive instead. "Say it. Tell me. Or we stop right now!" "Say what?" "Do you love me? If you do, say it!" "Yes. Yes! I love you!" His hands pulled her crotch up tight against his, and he groaned at the sudden heat. He didn't care about what he was promising, since he never kept those types of promises anyway. He considered them nothing more than another tool for helping get his cock inside a woman's holes. "Will you love me forever?" "Yes! I'll love you forever! Now kiss me!" She opened enough of his shirt so they could clinch skin to skin. His bare, hairless, well-muscled chest was beaded with perspiration. Her nipples felt to him like diamond tipped drills boring holes into his flesh. The heat and softness of her breasts, small as they were, still caused his heart to jump again, finding another, faster rhythm. "Do you need me? Will you never leave me?" "Yes. Yes! Enough questions! It's you and me forever, baby! We'll never be separated. I'll love you forever, if that's what you want!" His harsh, whispered answer brought forth a huge, highly-satisfied smile, and an odd laugh, from somewhere deep in her soul. The oddness haunted him. His strange reactions haunted him. His lust drove him forward. Somewhere in his brain a little voice cried out a warning, but was drowned in hormones. Justifying his words and actions was second nature to him. He thought she was young, foolish, that she'd forget all about him when her next crush came along. Besides, his inner voice continued, someone has to mold her, break her in, teach her the rules of life. And he liked kids. Or, at least, he liked making them. Bob almost believed his own reasoning, that he was improving the average quality of the human gene pool by getting so many women pregnant. Angie pushed back off his lap and stood before the young blond. There was a slight shaking of her entire body, followed by some thigh rubbing, breast squeezing, and nipple pinching, all self-administered. She whispered at him. "If you mean for us to be together, forever and ever, give me a minute, then come. Follow the music to find me. I'll be waiting." The young brunette stood up straight, dropped her arms, and wiggled. All of the black velvet fell from her hips, leaving her nude except for stockings and heels. "Remember, follow only if you mean forever," she whispered again. Bob watched that round, youthful bottom sway out of the room. After at least a minute, which was how long it took for him to regain his composure, he followed. A hard driving rock song started playing, louder than anything he'd heard that day, and it got louder as he approached the only closed door in the hallway. He found the lyrics hard to understand, despite their volume. >I remember every little thing As if it happened only yesterday >Parking by the lake And there was not another car in sight The doorknob beckoned, so he turned it, and the door opened. A wall of sound hit him, engulfed him, flowed over and around him, and pulled him into the room. The door closed, seemingly by itself, sealing him in. >And I never had a girl Looking any better than you did >And all the kids at school They were wishing they were me that night "Something's screwy!" a tiny part of his mind yelled, unheard amongst the turbulent thoughts and emotions running through his brain. "Get out of here!" it shouted. Yet, again it was ignored. Her naked body was in focus, over near the bed. Nylons and shoes were gone. She was hot, dripping, and waiting for him, according to his ego and glands. She looked ripe and ready to be taken and fertilized with his seed. All the rest of the room seemed fuzzy, blurry, out of kilter, as though he were seeing it in one of those funhouse mirrors. A moving one. The only light seemed to be coming from her stereo. His hands reached out for her, and he managed a step forward, even though he found moving difficult. >And now our bodies are oh so close and tight >It never felt so good it never felt so right >And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife There was a chuckle under and around the music as she moved away from his hands and his vision. "Forever. You promised me forever. To love me forever. To stay with me until the end of time." There was a definite undercurrent of victory in her voice as she continued. "Now you are mine!" >Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife >C'mon! Hold on tight! >C'mon! Hold on tight! A hand stroked his neck, then worked its way from his back to his front, under his arm. She undid the last few buttons of his shirt. He felt frozen, unable to move or think, unable to even reach up and grab her hand. Fear finally began to take hold. The weirdness had at last sunk in to his hindbrain. The shirt he was wearing slid off his shoulders and fell to the floor. "You promised to do everything I told you. I'm holding you to that promise." She stepped into view again, a vision in white and tan. >Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night >I can see paradise by the dashboard light "You're going to teach me so much, and we've got all the time in the world for lessons. Some day I might even let you break my cherry. But for now, it's time for dreams and thoughts and imagining what will be." She reached over and started turning down the volume. His vision grew blurrier as she seemed to grow and stretch, and the room swirled around and around. The sound faded slowly, along with his consciousness. When everything was quiet, she was alone. "Mine, forever," she whispered, eyes closed, holding on to the volume control, seemingly recovering from some sort of powerful release. ********** When he walks in her room, he feels confused, like he walked into a play And the music's so loud it spins him around 'til his soul has lost its way And as she turns the volume down, he's getting smaller with the sound It seems to pull him off the ground, towards the radio he's bound Never to be found ********** >Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night >I can see paradise by the dashboard light >Paradise by the dashboard light "Dan, do you think we did the right thing? I mean, she is seventeen and all, but still, she hardly ever seems to leave her room any more." "I don't know, Janice. Maybe, maybe not. But, how could we say no any longer? She's been bugging you to let her start on the pill for more than two years, ever since that Dan kid disappeared. She's old enough to make up her own mind now, even if she is crazy." >You got to do what you can >And let Mother Nature do the rest >Ain't no doubt about it "That's something I still wonder about, too. I mean, his shoes were in our house the day he vanished. He had to have been here. What happened?" "We'll probably never know. All Angie ever says is that he's hers forever and ever. Just another one of her weird fantasies." >We were doubly blessed >Cause we were barely seventeen >And we were barely -- "It's not just that, Dan. Ever since we let her start on the pill, she keeps locking herself in her room and playing that stupid song. It's almost enough to drive *me* crazy! And you *know* what she's doing because you can hear the bedsprings squeaking and the headboard banging in spite of the music! We've got to get her out to meet some boys somehow." >We're gonna go all the way tonight >We're gonna go all the way >And tonight's the night ... "Who? And where? Janice, Angie is only seventeen. Maybe she's just a little slow when it comes to social skills. There is a lot to learn, as you know. I mean, you and I certainly took our time about going the distance. Remember?" >OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here, two down, nobody >on, no score, >bottom of the ninth, there's the wind up, and there it is, a line shot up >the middle, look at him go. This boy can really fly! "Of course I remember. But just remember that we started kissing on our second date. I was seventeen then too. And, believe it or not, you were not the first boy I ever kissed." "Yes, I remember. And yes, you were definitely better at that kissing stuff than I was. You were a lot more practiced then than I was." >He's rounding first and really turning it on now, he's not letting up at >all, he's gonna try for second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and >here comes the throw, and what a throw! "Come on, Dan, you know what I mean. I'd been on dates since I was fourteen, just like you. We learned how to react to the other half, and found out about what we liked and didn't like and all that stuff. Angie has needs and desires just like any other hormonal teenager, yet I've never even heard of her kissing a boy!" "I think you're overreacting. Our daughter is a really smart girl, somewhere underneath all the craziness. One day she'll probably surprise us by just grabbing some guy and dragging him off to bed or to the altar. I just pity any poor sod she sets her sights on. He'll never know what hit him." >He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out! >No, wait, safe -- safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen >out there. "So why do you think she wanted to go on the pill? Is she seeing some guy out there somewhere that we don't know about?" "I doubt it, Dan. When I took her in to the doctor for her physical before getting her prescription, she was still a virgin. Besides, when does she ever leave the house? All she does is sit in her room, play music, and *do* stuff." >Batter steps up to the plate, here's the pitch-- >he's going, and what a jump he's got, he's trying for third, here's the >throw, it's in the dirt-- >safe at third! Holy cow, stolen base! "Hon, there's not a lot left that we haven't already tried. She is back in school now, at least, and she is getting top marks again. That has to be worth something, right?" "Yes, but she doesn't interact with anyone there! She has no friends, no relationships. It's not healthy!" >He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost daring him to try and pick >him off. The pitcher glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down >the third base line, the suicide squeeze is on! "I thought we agreed a long time ago to let her go her own way. Angie isn't any kind of normal girl, so we can't expect her to do normal things. Besides, Janice, what would you do if she suddenly started going out on hot dates all over the place?" "I ... uh ... oh God, you're probably right. I'd go crazy worrying about her going all the way with some smooth talker who'd use her and dump her. She is so innocent. I just hope she finds someone some day. We don't want her growing up to be an old maid, do we?" >Here he comes, squeeze play, it's gonna be close, here's the throw, here's >the play at the plate, holy cow, I think he's gonna make it! "There go those damned bedsprings again!" ********** The headlines read that a boy disappeared, and everyone thinks he died 'Cept a crazy girl with a secret lover who keeps her satisfied It's so nice to be insane, no one asks you to explain Radio by your side, Angie baby Angie, baby, you're a special lady Livin' in a world of make believe - well, maybe Stoppin' at her house is a neighbor boy with evil on his mind Cause he's been peekin' in Angie's room at night thru her window-blind I see your folks have gone away, would you dance with me today I'll show you how to have a good time, Angie baby ********** ******************************************************************** Author's Notes: This story was inspired by a rather strange song I fell in love with many years ago. It tells the tale of a crazy girl who is quite different from normal people, in more than just her sanity. "Angie Baby" was a song written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy. It was fairly successful when released in the mid seventies. "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" was written by Jim Steinman and sung by Meatloaf and Ellen Foley, with play-by-play spoken by Phil (Scooter) Rizzuto - Voice of the New York Yankees. "Another Brick in the Wall" was written by Roger Waters and performed by Pink Floyd. All lyrics used without permission. -- 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: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+