Message-ID: <44645asstr$1065575403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20031007211649.20906.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Crimson Dragon X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 7 Oct 2003 21:16:49 -0000 Subject: {ASSM} Keys (FF, MF, rom) {Crimson Dragon} Date: Tue, 7 Oct 2003 21:10:03 -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: gill-bates, hecate -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Synopsis: Keys (FF, MF, rom) Shawn and Simone both love the same girl, and Deanna doesn't know how to resolve her internal conflicts. Two beautiful women having an affair and someone is guaranteed to get hurt. So. Who do you love? This is a marginally erotic story featuring, among other things, sexual content that may include depictions of nudity, consensual sex outside of standard bedroom settings, and Dragons. It may even -- horrors -- contain depictions of hetrosexual and/or female-female sexual liasons. You've been warned. But you can read story codes, right? If this is going to offend you, or you are legally immature, please refrain from reading this story. There. I've said it. This story is copyrighted by Crimson Dragon. Please do not repost or redistribute in any manner without written permission from the author. Comments always welcome. - Crimson (dcrimson@yahoo.com) This story, and others, are archived at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www http://members.tripod.com/files/Authors/Dr/wwwagon_Of_Crimson Keys http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www/short_stories/stories/keys.html ======================================================================== Keys (FF, MF, rom) ======================================================================== (c) Copyright - November 2002 All rights reserved Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com) ======================================================================== Bright, warm sunshine slashed through the tilted blinds, streaking across the bedroom like fingers of light, dust motes caught in frozen time. Simone knelt above her, her smile as radiant as the sunbeams that striped her bare skin from the tips of her breasts to the trembling of her thighs. The sun played in her blonde locks, cascading over her shoulders like a million sparkles from a thousand waterfalls. Simone's breath came short and fast, her breasts rising and falling in rapid rhythm. Her lips formed another quick smile, and she gently lowered herself, breasts meeting breasts, lips, soft lips, finding soft lips. With a hunger reminiscent of a caged lioness, Simone kissed her, her teeth connecting almost painfully with the intensity. "Deanna?" "Hmmmm?" "I need you ..." Simone whispered. Without waiting for an answer, Simone swivelled, her legs flashing in the afternoon light. Her head dipped, her lips finding other soft lips, her tongue gentle but insistent. Deanna moaned, and reached upwards, her fingers grasping at the perspiration sheened skin hovering near her, pulling Simone down, down, down. Fingers slipped into her, wet, slippery, so swollen. Deanna moaned again, her voice muffled in the girl. She wanted to cry out, but her throat refused the commands of her mind. All thoughts fled. There was only Simone. Only Simone. A tongue touched her clitoris. And again, circling, teasing. Without warning, blue light washed over Deanna's mind, and dimly she heard her own voice cry out, felt all the muscles in her body contract in blessed unison, a choir of sound and sensation -- a mixture of relief, release and passion. Above her, she still tasted Simone, the girl writhing and moaning in a rhythm that matched the pulsing of the blue light flooding her mind. Simone squeezed her fingers, buried deep within. Squeezed tightly. Squeezed in a rhythm that felt wonderfully familiar, nearly matching the contractions of her own muscles. Her own climax subsiding, a sigh escaped Deanna, echoed by the blonde girl as she collapsed wearily, her gentle weight close and comforting above. Perspiration dotted Deanna's brow, and slicked between their bodies, as Deanna struggled to control her breathing. <---===***===---> The faint smell of peaches tickled her nose and she turned lazily, pushing one bare leg under the bed's comforter. Simone appeared, her hair transformed from vivid blonde to a dark chestnut as it dripped across her bared shoulders. A cloud of steam billowed around her form, twirling about her ankles like tentacles. Deanna sighed. She hated this part most of all. "Simone?" she said softly. Simone continued to walk towards the bed, her toes leaving tiny damp patches on the cream of the carpet. "Mhmmmm?" Simone's eyes flashed, silently asking if Deanna was ready for more. She was ... oh, how she was ... Instead of nodding as she desperately wanted to, she ducked her eyes and whispered, "Shawn will be here soon." Deanna didn't look up, couldn't. She knew every nuance of Simone's face, every flash of disappointment, every carefully guarded attempt to hide. And she hated -- hated -- being the cause. Simone's insubstantial weight dimpled the bedclothes beside Deanna. Deanna bit her lip gently as Simone's fingers trailed lazily over her breasts, teasing and close. Simone's skin radiated the clean scent of peaches, her fingertips damp against Deanna's skin. The musk of their tryst dissipated until all Deanna could sense was peaches, and the soft shallowness of Simone's breathing. "I can't keep doing this," Simone whispered. Deanna closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. She wanted to cry out. But Shawn. He'd be home soon. With a muted sigh, Simone's weight rose, the bed creaking quiet protest. Deanna watched silently as Simone moved gracefully about the room, bending modestly to gather up her scattered clothing. Bra. Lacy panties. Jeans. Denim slipped up long legs, catching at dampness until Simone's pale skin disappeared within. Simone fished deep into her pocket with one hand, the other carrying her top and bra easily. She leaned back against the dresser, the soft curves of her bare back visible in the mirror behind. A muted jingle of keys broke the quiet as Simone twirled the metal about her index finger idly, nervously. <---===***===---> Thunder crashed, though the sudden flash and noise seemed out of place. Simone stood soaked, her shirt plastered to her body, nipples pushing expectantly against the cool of the water rushing over her body. Thunder rumbled again in the distance, raindrops pattering through the pine needles above. Eerie grey light illuminated the clearing, and Simone lowered her eyes, turned, and walked away. The whiteness of her top melted into the evergreens. Deanna tried to cry out, call Simone back. The clear coldness of the falling water touched her tongue, stifling the cry. Thunder crashed again, nearby, and it was out of place, unreal. Deanna's mind focused again on twirling metal. Twirling. Spinning. Jingling ... <---===***===---> Jingling as the metal twirled about Simone's finger, flashing in the late afternoon sunbeams. No rain. No thunder. No forest. Deanna opened her eyes, and Simone stood, still topless, still radiantly beautiful. She ached for the girl, but didn't rise from the bed. Mixed in with the sadness, the regret, there was puzzlement as if Simone had seen the same visions of rain and prophetic fallacy. "I can't keep doing this, Deanna," Simone whispered. "I can't." "Don't leave." Deanna heard her own voice, as if it were lost in a forest somewhere, distant and alone. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd been the one to ask Simone to leave in the first place. For only a moment, Simone hesitated, her voice forlorn but firm. "I must." "Because of Shawn?" Simone nodded miserably. A solitary tear traced down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. Deanna's eyes tracked the moisture until it dripped from Simone's jaw. "Meet me later? Please?" Simone hesitated again. Reluctantly, Simone lowered her eyes and nodded as if she never had a choice in the matter. Her bare shoulders slumped slightly, as if she bore the weight of the world upon her. But even with the weight of the world, she would see her responsibility through. "The Portal. Sometime tonight," Simone whispered, her voice barely audible to Deanna. "When?" "Tonight." Shawn wouldn't understand, but she would make excuses. Somehow. Deanna closed her eyes. "I'll be there," she said softly. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, regret and the exertions of the afternoon combining in a symphony of vibration. Only the flash of one bare heel as Simone disappeared down the hallway bid farewell to Deanna as she wearily opened her eyes. "Simone ..." she whispered. The front door closed with a gentle bang, somewhere as far away as the forests of her vision. She wanted to lie back and cry, but Shawn would be home soon, and she was sure that her body and the drying perspiration would brand her for what she'd done. Again. Slowly, she pushed herself up until she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare toes playing aimlessly with the carpet. A black bra sat like a sentinel upon the dresser where Simone had leant. Carefully, Deanna gathered it up, pressing the fabric to her face. Simone's scent, feminine and close. With great care, Deanna slipped the bra into her underwear drawer, even while it wasn't her size. Shawn wouldn't see it there. Guilt, and an overbearing sense of grief washed over her as she stepped naked towards the shower. <---===***===---> She glanced at the slim gold watch that graced her wrist. Shawn sat across the room, lounging in the overstuffed easy chair watching the Blue Jays lose, yet again. "I'm going out," Deanna said softly. Shawn nodded, absently waving with the neck of his beer. He truly was a good man, she thought. "Where are you going? Should I wait up?" She paused half in and half out of the door. Better lies based in truth. "Meeting Simone. I hope I'm not too late." His attention returned to the game before the front door shut behind her. <---===***===---> Cigarette smoke penetrated her eyes, stinging and intimate. A margarita sat lonely, grasped lightly between two fingers of her right hand. Slowly, she raised the wide glass to her lips, sipping, the alcohol tingling upon her tongue. Between her legs, she felt the familiar soreness that always seemed to appear after an afternoon with Simone. Oh, she didn't mind. It was a good soreness. A soreness that she wanted, that she loved; a gentle reminder of unrestrained physical love. She tingled slightly, and she shifted her legs, crossing them under the table. She could feel everyone's eyes upon her, especially the men. This was no place for a single girl, sitting alone in a quiet booth well away from the booming music and the dance floor where patrons spun drunkenly to eighties ballads. The Portal carried on without her intervention, the clatter of humanity surrounding her as distant as her thoughts. Somehow, the crowd seemed to sense her mood, and not so much as one male presence sidled up to drunkenly ask her zodiac sign. She was beginning to notice this unusual behaviour of the bar when the entrance doors opened, and a tall, dark man walked in. The smoky haze seemed to part as he moved, and his eyes fell directly on her booth. She shivered, wondering if she had inadvertently taken his usual table. She tore her eyes from him, and raised her glass back to her lips. When long, strong fingers touched the back of her hand, she raised her eyes, startled. He stood there relaxed, an easy smile forming across his lips. She stared at him, trying to summon up a look of disdain; even while she missed the male attention, she didn't much feel like brushing aside lame pick up lines. "She'll be here, soon," he said quietly. His voice cut through the general cacophony without the need to raise his voice. He leaned down onto the table, and for a moment, Deanna thought that she could smell brimstone. The long strong fingers seemed to shimmer into more delicate feminine hands, but only for a moment. "Excuse me?" Deanna replied, at a loss for words. "Simone. You are waiting for her, aren't you?" "How? What?" He smiled again, and pushed himself back up. He must have stood at least six foot three, perhaps even taller. "Shawn. Simone. You'll have to decide," he murmured. She wasn't even sure that she'd heard it, but her heart banged in her chest. "Shawn sent you? What did you do? Follow me?" He smiled again, this time an enigmatic smile. He touched her arm, and his fingers were warm. "Don't be silly," he said. And a sense of calm descended over her. She believed him, though why, she couldn't have said. Without another word of explanation, he turned to move away from her table. "Wait!" A few people turned to look at her, including the strange man. "Please. Who are you?" His lips formed the words, but they appeared more in her head than through the hazy air. "Some call me the Dragon." <---===***===---> The Dragon had disappeared into the crowd, melting into the shadows as if he had never made his enigmatic appearance. She watched for him, half-heartedly, but he didn't reappear and she wasn't sure that she wanted him to, or if he'd ever really been there. Her eyes swept over the crowd, and not for the first time, she wondered if Simone was going to stand her up. She sighed and sipped at the dwindling margarita. The ice within had mostly melted. When she looked up to scan for the mysterious tall man, she gasped. Simone stood at the end of the booth, her lips set in a smile not echoed by her eyes. For a moment, the girl stood while waitresses and patrons flowed around her like a river moves around an island. Deanna's breath caught for a second, her lips moving, but no sound issued from her throat. The noise in the bar muted, as if an unseen Dragon had thumbed down the volume on some cosmic remote control. But of course, the ambient noise continued -- the dancers now gyrating to an old Def Leppard tune -- only Deanna's awareness of the surrounding bar had diminished until only she and Simone stood amongst the stale haze. Without asking, Simone slipped into the booth, her booted foot briefly touching Deanna's jean clad calf. She looked at Deanna, her long lashes blinking away the cigarette smoke. Her hand stole forward and gripped Deanna's lightly, fingers soft and gentle. The same fingers that earlier had generated moans and flashes of electricity upon Deanna's body. The same fingers that had been deep within her. For a minute, both girls remained silent, as though they both were aware that this meeting could only end in one predetermined place. Simone sighed. "I have to go," Simone said quietly, her voice, like the Dragon's, somehow slicing through Def Leppard. "Why?" "Because it isn't right. Not for me. Not with Shawn. Not with you. It's not fair on any of us. You know that, Deanna. I'm so sorry. I should never have ..." Moisture, hot and salty, welled up in Deanna's eyes. She blinked quickly, and sipped at her margarita. The tang of tequila blossomed on her tongue. The soft scent of clover, peaches and spice briefly overpowered the stink of cigarettes, and she was sure that the scents had drifted from Simone's golden hair. Deanna's breasts ached. "Simone ..." Simone glanced away, towards the bar. Somewhere out there, a Dragon walked. Slowly, her eyes returning to Deanna, Simone shook her head, strands of her hair billowing as if a breeze had tickled the golden tips. Elsewhere, somewhere outside of the booth, Def Leppard left the stage to be replaced with the rattling, driving, guitar of Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers. "You have to decide, Deanna. Who do you love?" "I don't know." Don't know? Or don't want to know? Deanna pursed her lips, her thoughts drifting to Shawn, trusting Shawn, reliable Shawn, watching a baseball game, sipping his beer, perhaps even hoping that she was having a good time with Simone. She closed her eyes, her breath beginning to accelerate. Her breasts rose and fell under her thin shirt. Simone's image -- her bare skin striped by the afternoon sun, her head tilted back, lips parted, gentle cries urgent and full of passion. Fingers, so soft, trailed over her swollen nipples. Deanna opened her eyes, the haze around her cloying, stinging. Across from her, Simone gazed at her, eyes watching, understanding. For a moment, Deanna was sure that Simone had seen what she had, the image of bare skin, and gentle fingers. Impossible. Simone sighed prettily, and shook her head slowly. "It's all right," she whispered. "I never expected anything." The table wasn't particularly wide, and without warning, Simone pushed herself up and leaned across the table. Her lips touched Deanna's, somehow chaste and sexual simultaneously. As quickly as she had been there, she was gone, sitting easily opposite, her hands resting against the grain of the tabletop. Deanna wanted to beg. More time. Don't leave. Please. But before the words could pass her lips, Simone slipped from the booth, standing uneasily at the edge of the table, her eyes somehow level with Deanna. She reached forward, her fingers brushing Deanna's cheek, salty moisture coating the fingertips. "Good-bye," Simone whispered. <---===***===---> Through the blur of tears, it was impossible to tell. Simone walked through the crowd that parted for her like the Red Sea parted for Moses. She didn't sit, but rather leaned into the bar, almost shouting to the bartender above the din of the music. Of course, Deanna couldn't hear what she said, nor did she want to. Beside Simone, a tall, dark, man watched Simone, then glanced back at Deanna's booth. It was impossible to tell, whether the man was a Dragon or not. Then Simone nodded, and pushed back from the bar, walking unimpeded towards the entrance. She glanced back once, half in and half out of the Portal. She gave a small wave, and even through her own tears, Deanna could see Simone's tears as she turned towards the outside. Somehow, that made her cry harder. Sometime after the door had closed, and Simone had disappeared like so much smoke, another margarita arrived at Deanna's table. "From Simone," the waiter whispered. Deanna stared at it through her tears for a long, long time. <---===***===---> Somewhere beyond the plate glass behind her, the lake lapped against the unseen shore as it had since the last ice age. Today, she couldn't see it through the light summer drizzle that fell in a fine mist that shrouded the world, drifting between the office buildings that littered the downtown core. She stared at the rain, unable to concentrate on the computer or memos that covered her desk. Outside, the drizzle continued. In a shimmering forest, Simone walked towards her through the rain, her shirt plastered to her breasts, her legs and feet bare, sheened with moisture. She smiled, her full lips parted as she walked towards Deanna, arms open for an embrace. Closer, the scent of clover and new rain filled Deanna's senses. Deanna's lips parted, wanting to taste Simone, touch her. A soft warble broke the easy quiet only filled with Deanna's shallow breathing. Slowly, she turned to face her desk; the vision faded into white droplets beyond the protective glass. A single red light blinked on her phone. Her heart began to speed up. Simone. It had been weeks since the Portal. Uncounted messages left, but none meaningful, or at least none that said what needed to be said. She couldn't leave the one message that might have made a difference, and Simone had not returned her calls, nor could Deanna blame her. The phone warbled again. Simone. Deanna's hand reached, grasping the cold plastic of the receiver. Her blood pounded in her ears as she silenced the warble and raised the phone. "Simone?" <---===***===---> "Oh. Hi, Shawn." <---===***===---> Deanna turned and stared back out into the rain. "It's out of the question, Shawn. I have too much work to do, and ..." Her heart began to slow down again to a more normal rhythm, the pounding in her ears receding. "No, Shawn. I can't go with you. Not this weekend." A siren wailed somewhere below, hidden in the sea of white. She listened for a moment, not surprised by Shawn's query at the other end of the telephone wire. Deanna sighed. It was the truth, at least at the moment. "No, Shawn, I'm not seeing someone else." Not Simone. "I just can't ... I'm sorry, Shawn." Uncaring, the drizzle continued outside the glass, streaks of water running down the window like tears. She listened for a moment, considered dropping the phone back into the cradle. She closed her eyes. Unbidden, Simone's image emerged from an ocean of mist. "It's supposed to rain all weekend, Shawn." Simone's image faded, but didn't quite disappear. Simone's lips whispered, "Good-bye." Deanna wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know. I know, Shawn. Different. Withdrawn. I'll try harder. I promise." She paused, thinking, and then spoke quietly into the phone. "Okay, Shawn. I'll go." Without waiting for an answer, she lowered the phone, the red light winking out obediently. She turned back and stared into the white. Simone's image faded, but her chest still ached. <---===***===---> Rain pattered against the windshield as the tires of the pickup truck crunched against the gravel of the winding driveway. Inside the truck, Deanna tried to concentrate on anything but her lurching stomach, but the nausea continued to assail her. The truck stopped with a jolt, and she blindly reached for the handle, the door swinging open. Wet cool air washed over her. With a sigh of relief, Deanna released her seat belt, and stepped into the drizzle, the water dripping into her hair, and clean, fresh air filling her lungs. Suddenly, he appeared at her elbow, his hand warm, guiding her towards the cabin under the pine boughs. Inside, after helping her remove her wet shoes, he guided her to the plush sofa. She laid back, covering her eyes, and concentrating on breathing. The carsickness receded slowly. Shawn stepped from the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine, one of which he handed to Deanna before settling to the floor near her. "Thank you," Deanna whispered. The wine tingled against her tongue. The liquid helped quell the nausea. She closed her eyes again. The man sat near her on the floor. She envisioned him, as she knew him, inside the bedroom and outside. His laugh. His kindness. In short, he was perfect for her. He loved her. But did she love him? She sighed. She knew the answer, of course, but she didn't know why. Perhaps, she could never know why. She kept her eyes closed. His gentle breathing, and the soft sounds of him sipping his wine reached her ears. But Simone's face hovered ethereally behind her closed eyelids. <---===***===---> Reaching down, her fingers entwined with his, she pulled him gently to his feet. She shushed Shawn with a single finger against his lips. She guided him to the sliding glass doors that overlooked the wet deck, the uncaring forest beyond, partially shrouded in white mist. Her fingers unlocked the door, and a cool breeze washed over them. Rain kissed her jeans and feet. "But it's raining, Dee." Without hesitation, she walked out onto the deck and pulled her damp shirt over her head, dropping it in a wet heap near her feet. She pulled off her socks with her toes. She placed her hands on her hips and turned towards the cabin, where Shawn stood watching her. Beckoning, she smiled. He stepped out into the rain. <---===***===---> Like an audience, their clothing surrounded them. In the middle of the deck, she straddled him, riding him slow and steady. She closed her eyes, fingers trailing over wet skin, between her legs, stroking. Up. Down. Rock. Rain dripped through her hair, flowing like a river down her bare back. She ran her hands over his wet chest, fingers dipping between his teeth. Behind her, the rain hissed off the surface of an unseen mountain lake. It may have been clean rain, or it might have been salty tears, dripping down her cheeks. She began to cry softly as her mind wandered. Emerging from the forest, a naked girl walked through the wet pine needles, hands outstretched, a ring of keys twirling, catching the grey light wandering through the overcast. And suddenly, she could feel the breeze over her naked skin, the rain coating her from nipples to bare toes. But it wasn't her skin - -- it was Simone's, even the pine needles under feet, the scent of new rain filling her nostrils. Tears intermixed with the rain. As her lips touched the lips of Simone, as she kissed herself, her body clenched, climax rising over her. Dimly, she was aware of Shawn exploding within her, her climax triggering his. Below her, Shawn moaned, his hips thrusting upwards into her. Her climax drained from her slowly, her breathing falling back to normal. Her muscles relaxed and she fell forward, embracing Shawn, and shivering. She should have been satisfied. Should have been happy. Tears continued to flow, though she was almost sure that Shawn would mistake her hitching breathing for afterglow. Satisfaction? Only physical. Only frustration. Only lies. It was as if it were the last time she would love him. <---===***===---> She carried the dry blanket beside her, brushing against her bare legs. She shivered, wished that she could wrap the blanket around herself, but instead, she tucked the coarse cloth around Shawn who lay softly snoring in the bed that she should be sharing with him. Shawn mumbled something in his sleep, and she smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead. Slowly, she gathered up her soaked clothes, holding the pieces dripping in her left hand. A small puddle gathered around her bare feet as she watched him sleep for a while. After a few moments, perhaps sensing her, he opened his eyes, a light of understanding falling across his face. "Sleep well," she whispered. "Good-bye," he mumbled before closing his eyes again. <---===***===---> Shivering, Deanna sat at the kitchen table, goosebumps rising across her bare breasts. Ignoring the shakes, she held her head for a moment, then bent over a clean sheet of white paper. Dots of water fell from her hair, forming small miniature puddles and smudging her writing. Though she wasn't crying yet, the water reminded her of tears. The pen continued inexorably across the paper. <---===***===---> For a moment, she hesitated at the door, one hand lightly resting on the knob, the other still carrying her clothing. With a sigh, she stepped out into the rain. Instantly, it coated her skin again. The gravel of the driveway pressed painfully into her bare feet, but she continued without complaint. It wasn't difficult to ignore the pain when it was less than what she knew she must do. At the truck, she hesitated. Slowly, she turned back towards the cabin. Shawn stood in the window, and for a moment, she was sure that he was the man from the Portal, the Dragon. She blinked and the image disappeared, a trick of the light. She turned back to the truck, her fingers lightly lifting the door handle. Locked, it didn't open, and she sighed. Keys. She took a step back towards the cabin, tears beginning again. She couldn't remember a time that she'd cried as much in a single day. The keys would be in Shawn's jeans, or perhaps on the table near the entrance. She stopped, the gravel near the front wheel sharper beneath her feet than that she'd already traversed to get to the truck from the cabin. Maybe it was a sign, an omen. She wasn't meant to do this. A sign that she'd forgotten something as simple as a set of keys. How could she unlock anything without keys? She shifted her weight slowly from foot to foot. A flash of metallic light caught her eye near the centre of the wide expanse of the truck's hood. Keys. She stared at the keyring for a while, before reaching across the wet metal and picking them up. She twirled them about her finger and cried there for a long, long time. <---===***===---> The sweatshirt protested as she pulled it over her head. The sodden cloth clung to her like a second skin, causing her to cry out at the sudden cold against her breasts. The cabin filled the windshield. In the same window where the Dragon and Shawn had appeared, a golden haired girl shimmered, her skin striped by afternoon sun through slatted blinds. Deanna blinked, and the image faded. Simone. Shawn. Simone. Shawn. Dependable. Trusting. Understanding. Kind. Simone. Exciting. Vibrant. Forbidden. Naughty. Kind. Her hand lightly grasped the door handle. She loved him once, and she knew that she should run back to the cabin, tear up the note, and slip under the warmth of the blanket, curl up with Shawn. The keys twirled about her index finger, as water dripped into her eyes. The Dragon's voice touched her. "Who do you love?" Try as she might, Simone's image filled her mind. Not the man sleeping in the cabin beyond the safety glass. Her body tingled, as her bare feet caressed the pedals. She loved him once. But it wasn't fair on him. Or her. <---===***===---> She probably shouldn't be driving barefoot, but the rough texture of the brake pedal caressed the bottom of her foot. Her toes depressed the brake pedal, the red taillights reflecting off the mist behind the pickup. She stopped twirling the keys about her finger. Shawn marked the keys with bands of coloured plastic. The crimson tipped key marked the ignition. She slipped it into the slot. The engine roared to life, and the sound drew her from her reverie. Lies. Keys. She had no idea if Simone would return her calls. "I'm sorry, Shawn, but I think I love her." He knew, and somehow, he understood. She stared at the keys dangling in the ignition. His keys. His truck. She'd return them to him, as soon as she could. Somehow, and she didn't understand it, he wasn't expecting them back soon. Nor was he expecting her back. She stared out the window into the rain. Then she lifted her foot from the brake pedal, and the truck smoothly reversed, its tires crunching the gravel. The keys jingled in the ignition. -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.3ia Charset: noconv iQEVAwUBP4L0z0xM3srBk85hAQGIIAgAoYe8NtsPmBwqvmjQ3Df3IQ7wSGY5G6Ej K5YQJhlrNsYybH1Lijg/OS1mQnPlWx3m96TR2wp1PilnipdY4pZ12g2EUza6xunu NKB3Hly4Z41d7s3SB4foRIwvFLdMLB8kHpLK8Mh0GyFNM5k/JXUeKaFuZPK2jOAZ OKzKNJxDDnFU5yxeIHBllAYDfLTTLrsyMmCtNqzIiGOp7dLmnQTuCMGa3xWGC+xP silVjBuqAhqNKOtzrQNb8p7zmcO0qfN8/ey8cNLAt6IxPVW22FkfQc64rBYGTNyo 7RN0svS98FwD3JjZUEjhDTy6uzaLLDQO8S4sjHj26E5n2hGAB1YkJA== =Suy/ -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- -- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+