Message-ID: <46687asstr$1076937004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0402152146.3c96fcfe@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2004 05:46:14 +0000 (UTC) X-Spamscanner: mailbox2.ucsd.edu (v1.4 Dec 3 2003 15:07:19, 0.0/5.0 2.60) X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.8 17036 i1G5kIbb020984 mailbox2.ucsd.edu) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 15 Feb 2004 21:46:13 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 11/94 by jane Lines: 142 Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2004 08:10:04 -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: dennyw, IceAltar Author: jane Title: Glimpses 011/94 Summary: Anna confronts Fran. Keywords: none Length: 891 words Copyright: c. 2004 *31 October 1996, Thursday - part one* _what? don't look so shocked ... yes ive done the dirty chat rooms ... how else could i discover secret fantasies ... or meet such fascinating people ... ok ... and yes, i DID get horny ... yes, i had some fun ... okay, and i got off sometimes ... i meant to leave me out of this, okay ... its supposed to be about the others ... so lets get back to them ... to anna now ... its small town halloween ... its pumpkins, vandals, treats, and costumes ... but anna teaches math to eights and sevens ... there was no party planned, no sums in bright orange chalk or witchy artwork on display ... today was fractions and per cents ... today was something else as well ... manitoba ..._ *§* The ribbon vapours from her coffee tried to coax her into smiling. Anna breathed it deeply, sitting at her classroom desk, waiting for a calm to overtake her. _Just think about the lesson. Mark a set of papers. Take a look at next week's unit. Nothing's that important._ She'd come in early on that frosty autumn morning to avoid a scene at home, that and something else more frightening. Flashbacks of last night with Andrew kept intruding. It'd been another a battle over Penny. _It doesn't really matter. What's the difference anyway? It's just a costume. Just a bit of muslin worn for half an hour. Not the Berlin Wall or Bosnia. She's nine. She won't remember what she wore four years from now._ Anna would remember. She'd remember awkward drawings that she'd made, one of Pocahontas, one of Esmeralda. She'd remember how she'd offered Pen a choice. Anna knew how much she loved both films. Anna knew which one she'd pick; the dark-eyed gypsy's sultry dance had wowed her just last month when Mom and daughter drove to Winnipeg to shop and see the movie. Esmeralda it would be. Her only child. And like a knife between her legs the curse had come last night to emphasize that point. Her only child ever. The endo ripped her abdomen like it hadn't done in years. Her only child. Perhaps her Penny's last time trick or treating. Not just a costume, not to Anna. It had been a memory unborn, a foetus now discarded. It was real. _Let it go now. Let it be._ They'd had the talk right after school before she started supper. _Esmeralda? Sure._ She'd pulled out remnants, laid them on the table. Penny picked the ones she liked. They'd touched the drawing up with markers, just the two of them together, just to get it perfect, just to do it right. Then Andrew stomped his muddy boots into the hallway. _Andrew with a package. All done up like ... Dammit don't start crying. Kids will be here soon. Done up like Christmas with a bow and everything. He'd goddamn paid to have it wrapped. A Bomber's Jersey. A real one. With her name across the back. A stupid plastic helmet. And watched her break out in a dance. Hooray for stupid football! Damn him. No. It doesn't matter. Maybe next year she'd be Esmeralda. Maybe someone even better._ Last night while Andrew gloated, while he and Penny planned their path across the village, Anna in her basement office marshalled forces, had planned an orderly retreat. In shock, she'd doodled on a paper pros and cons until she knew they'd gone to sleep. She'd put her pencil down. She'd breathed as deeply as she could. She'd thought it out. _Tomorrow morning early. I'll catch her in the coffee room. I'll talk to Fran. I'll look her in the eye. I'll say, "I'm sorry, I've been so busy with the family and the class." I'll keep from sputtering. I'll say it clearly, "Fran, we ought to try that bar again sometime. It was really fun." She wouldn't tremble, wouldn't squirm. "Fran, how 'bout tomorrow after work." It didn't mean that anything would happen. It didn't mean she'd even want it to. It'd only be a glass of wine. Just a friendship. Hardly even that. "If you'd like that, Fran?" So normal, so ordinary, so casual that ... "Yes, I'd like it too."_ Anna gulped a swallow from the mug and stood and forced her legs to walk across the room. _Into the hallway. Just get a coffee. I really doubt she's there._ Of course she was. Of course she sat alone hunched over stacks of essays, frustration written on her face. "Hi, Fran." "Anna!" "That's a lot of marking." "How've you been? Penny's all excited about tonight, I bet." "Fran." _It's too late now to run. Just say it. Just spit it out, you fool._ "She loves Halloween. Colin must, too." "That's why I'm trying to get these done. It'll be a busy night." "I should let you concentrate." "Was there something that you wanted? These can wait." "Oh, no. It's nothing." "Troy's coming down next weekend. Plans to spend a month. You never know with him. Maybe we could go somewhere for dinner, the three of us?" "Oh, great. With Troy. If Andrew doesn't need me. Sure." "Troy can be an idiot, but sometimes he's a hunk." "I'd better get to class." _Don't run. Turn slowly. Walk. As if it doesn't matter. As if I didn't care._ This story cannot be reposted or published without the author's permission. All comments and queries can be addressed to by_janeNO@SPAMliterotica.org by deleting the capital letters before sending. -- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+