Message-ID: <46504asstr$1075975810@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0402041904.2e345b29@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 5 Feb 2004 03:04:39 +0000 (UTC) X-Spamscanner: mailbox7.ucsd.edu (v1.4 Oct 30 2003 22:20:52, 0.0/5.0 2.60) X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.8 15898 i1534eXL040907 mailbox7.ucsd.edu) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 4 Feb 2004 19:04:39 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 02/94 by jane Lines: 223 Date: Thu, 5 Feb 2004 05:10:10 -0500 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: hecate, dennyw Author: jane Title: Glimpses 02/94 Summary: Marsha is talked into going on a picnic with her friends. Keywords: none Length: 1174 words Copyright: c. 2004 *28 August 1996, Wednesday* _thats anna ... when we finally meet online ill think, another me: redhead, irish temper, teacher, mom ... but at that time id miss the way that life had hurt her ... of course, i only had a glimpse of her at first ... not unlike the others ... thats the way it is online ... a snipet ... lol or brb ... gl ... marsha was the same ... first time ... toronto ..._ § Marsha eased herself onto the cushioned lounge. The yard had looked inviting from the kitchen. But once outside, the morning heat was choking. It pressed against her teenage chest as if an A-band hugged too tightly. It nullified the drifting plots of shade across the Carmack's narrow lot. It sapped her strength. But Marsha didn't mind. In cut-off jeans and halter, her blue eyes shut against the sun, she pondered better things than heat waves. She'd just received the "dream-gift" from her mother. She stretched her tall, lithe body and savoured her good luck. _"New York City!" Mom nearly sang it on the phone. Some sudden change of plans. A holiday assignment. Some client needed soothing. Would I go with? "We'd have the weekend to ourselves. Leave tomorrow evening."_ But equally as good at seventeen, the flip-side had its pluses. _Home alone three days, four nights. Either one is awesome. "Eleven at the latest, Baby. I have to let them know."_ Marsha fleshed the details of her choice like planning out a drawing. _What if ... We could ... I might ... The last weekend of summer. A party, either way._ Unconsciously, her fingers worked along her clothing, along her tight, flat stomach to her crotch. "Marsha's horny summer," was what she'd told her diary. Everything she'd done, it seemed, was sex. Everything she'd felt or thought aroused her. It was as if her clitoris, had suddenly matured, had got a "voice" that called her urgently without regard for others. It rumbled like an empty stomach while she sat on public transit or chatted with her friends. It put a spin on everything. It changed her art. She'd won the school award for sculpture in the spring: four stodgy cubes of Plasticine. Now Life was more her style. She analyzed her body with an artist's careful gaze. Her soft, blonde pubic curls had bronzed, a shadow in between white thighs, she analyzed. She saw herself atop a marble base where playing kids and strolling seniors ran their fingers on her cold, metallic calves. Art was more than form and balance; it was tactile now. Jogging, too, had changed. Not just a high from feeling fit, it centred now on contact, cloth against bare nipples. Small breasts, no bra, the sweat-drenched cloth concealing nothing. She needed outlets. Quinn befriended her. Quinn was _nice_, but Marsha wanted _bad_. His pouting lip, his weakness touched her. They'd talked. They'd walked. He'd written poems while she drew, but when she'd found the courage to join her lips to his, he'd only smiled. His mouth was cold. The kiss was not returned. She had his friendship, not his body. Now, the August heat, the prospect of adventure formed beads of sweat around her smile. Even with her mom, New York would sizzle. Or by herself at home? What kind of mischief could she dream? She rubbed her fingers lightly on her shorts, teased her fantasies like blowing on some campfire coals to make them glow. Marsha squinted at the neighbour's curtains. He would, by now, be tucked away behind a downtown desk. His wife was into tanning, sometimes topless. Newlyweds. Weekends he would join her on the blanket, muscles glistening in the sun. If they'd been aware of Marsha's interest, they didn't seem to mind. _Maybe they get off on being watched. Maybe they like watching me, like talking dirty when they fuck._ The fantasy had grown all summer, had prompted her to show off in the yard. She'd imagined invitations. Innocuous to start, an innuendo followed by an acquiescence. She'd dreamed of giving in, submitting to their wishes, partners in their games. _Maybe you're watching now. Got your eyeball up against the drapes? Watch me crawl my fingers underneath my shorts. Shall I push them lower? Wanna see a little more? Should I do myself right here?_ She raised her hips and arched her back to push her clothing lower. The phone. It screamed across the lawn. It rang twice more before she struggled from the chair and back into the house. "What's happening, Marsh?" It was Rebecca, a friend since public school, a fellow artist. Rebecca's smile tinged every syllable she spoke, and sometimes Marsha drifted on its magic ignoring what was said. "Just dreaming." Marsha set her back against the jamb, the phone held by her shoulder. "Dreaming what?" "Mom's taking off for NYC tomorrow. Some business trip." She zippered up the shorts one-handed. "Tomorrow? Wow." "Yuppers. I'll prob'ly go." "No, Marsh, you can't!" "What's up?" "A picnic Sunday. Kim called. You've gotta go." "Kim?" Enthusiasm drained from Marsha. "That means that Trevor's coming." "Yeah, Trevor. I know, it sucks. But I'll be there." "Like why? Who else is on your list?" "Don't freak. Crystal and Danny." "Duh. So hard to choose. Times Square or Trev and Danny." Marsha's laugh was thin and tight. "Wait! I'm desperate. School's Tuesday. This is it for fun." "Some fun. Danny?" "Kim's solid. It's better than just sitting here. The Islands. Think about the heat. The lake. Please, Mash." "Hmmm." "I'll owe you. Anything. Just go. We don't even have to hang with them. We'll bike and do some drawing. Freighters. People. You can choose. Please." "Sketching? _Anything,_ Bec?" she teased. "Anything. Just say you'll go." "Maybe. What about a date? Would Quinn fit in?" "Yeah, sure." The smile turned grey; a note went flat. "You, Bec?" "I dunno." Marsha winced. There'd been a nasty scene that spring. A jerk that Becca dated. Now she was pissed at men in general. "Suggestions?" "Lot's. But we'd have more fun, just you and me. Anyway, Quinn's no match for Dan and Trevor. They'd eat him up. For true." "Maybe that's just what he needs," Rebecca giggled. "Bec! You're sick, y'know." "Ask him, eh?" "I don't think so, Bec. I'd have more fun with you." "Yeah? I'm okay with it. True." "No way. Just us." "You sure?" "I'm sure." "Thanks, Marsh. You're cool." "So true. Anyway, New York in all this heat? No way." "Libby trusts you being on your own?" "Yeah. She says, my choice. She'll probably score a date if she's alone." "Maybe." "'Kay, I'll stay and do your picnic. Call me later. We'll figure out the stuff." "Sure." "I gotta go. I think there's someone waiting in the back." Marsha pressed her thighs together. "Who's that?" "The neighbour, prob'ly." "Thanks, Marsh. I mean it." "Bye, Bec." Marsha dangled the receiver by its cord, untwisting it, before she hooked it on the wall. She let her mind drift off in spirals: tanning topless, sun, and newlyweds. -- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+