Message-ID: <46722asstr$1076994602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0402161933.37585008@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 17 Feb 2004 03:33:31 +0000 (UTC) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 16 Feb 2004 19:33:31 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 12/94 by jane Lines: 158 Date: Tue, 17 Feb 2004 00:10:03 -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: hoisingr, hecate Author: jane Title: Glimpses 12/94 Summary: Mai and Tina discuss the camping trip. Keywords: none Length: 947 words Copyright: c. 2004 *31 October 1996, Thursday - part two* _late that thursday afternoon, while peter was at work, tina 'talked' with me again ... its true, shed hooked me with her narrative of crossing over mai ... its true id mailed her first and worried ... maybe even dreamed of meeting snälla tina ... because she was so charming ... because she seemed so real ... id never, ever been that foolish on the internet before ... never mentioned rendezvous ... never risked revealing secret chats or naughty stories, not for real-time love or even friendship ... never ... she told me how distraught shed been, of waiting by the phone ... she knew that mai was busy with the move ... she knew the camping trip might never happen ... she couldnt help but fret ... she had to know the ending ... she needed closure ... she told me how mais voice had sounded when shed called ... i got involved ... the image was as clear as if a photo was attached, as if mais jpg was etched onto my brain ... chicago ..._ *§* The bedroom drapes looked horrid. They'd been okay in Niles, his tiny bachelor pad, but here in Calumet, they clashed with everything. In brilliant, morning sun they looked anaemic. _Just one more thing that is not right._ Mai hated moving, hated this move more than any she had done. It coincided with a week of evening shifts. It was bad enough to ride the bus at two a.m., terrified of muggers, eyes down as if that made her look invisible. Now, going home meant dreading other things as well. _While I was gone, how did Douglas "help" with the unpacking? What mess has he invented while I was at my job? What has he undone this day? He has no logic in deciding things. He puts the silverware across the kitchen from the plates. If there was time to talk, to compromise, perhaps it would be easier?_ He'd be asleep when she got home; they barely spoke before he left again at seven. _It is my space, half mine._ Of course, there was the other irritant. The weekend camping trip. Each morning she would find a note from Douglas staring from the fridge, reminding her to call. "You decide. Love, D.," they ended. _Why must I decree? There is so much we need to do. Who can live with open boxes in their living room? I must call them soon. I must say, "We are too busy now." Call Peter at his office and apologize. I might say, we had had too much to drink; another week or two would let things settle down. Or, I need the weekend just to sort things out with Douglas and this move? We cannot go._ In the too-bright wash of morning sun, she lazed on Doug's futon staring at the awkward way he'd placed her stereo. She pictured Tina's soft, pale thighs. _We are such opposites. Me short, her tall; flat and full; brunette and blonde; dark and pale; calm and quick; Asian, Nordic; fragile, sturdy. Yin and yang. I wonder? Call her now. Do not put it off. Say, "I am sorry. It is impossible. Tomorrow is too soon."_ She reached onto the bamboo stool that held the telephone. The stool was there; the phone was not. She searched. _It can not leave all by itself._ The longer that she looked, the more her anger hardened. Twenty minutes passed. Furious, by then, at Doug, Mai found it, mounted on the kitchen wall. She screamed at him inside her head and dialled the Chambers' number. "Tina?" "Mai! Just thinking 'bout you guys." "Things are in a mess here. I am sorry for not calling sooner." "Don't. I understand. Isn't there some way that I could help? Or Peter?" "We will manage. Sometimes two heads are not better than one. Three might be much worse. Four could spell disaster." "You sound too busy for a campout. We understand." "I was going to tell you that. I planned to say, 'No, we can not go.' Now, I think we are so busy that we must. I really need a break." "You're sure? How's Doug about it?" "He is obsessed. He wants to go." "Peter's just the same. He hasn't said a word about last weekend. But, every night he asks me, 'Did they call?'" "It will be fun." "I think Peter's expecting more than just fun." Tina laughed. "Peter is sweet." "Mai?" "Yes, Tina?" "Mai, do you ... I don't know. Last weekend. I'm really mixed up about what happened." "You sound too serious. Trying to understand too much, one cannot understand anything at all." She paused. "Did that sound inscrutable?" "You're always inscrutable." Tina laughed again. "We must have some fun. Could you pick us up on Saturday? An early start this time." Mai heard her sigh. "And sleep this time, on Friday night." The conversation turned to camping gear and menus, with other questions put on hold. A sudden shift in sunlight through the curtains caught her eye, a change in tone, a pang of hunger. Without warning Mai announced, "I think one tent will be enough for all of us this trip. May we use yours? It is big, okay?" She'd said it; things were settled. Not the how of things, but _if_ was now decided. They talked about a hike and autumn leaves; Mai thought of bodies pressed together in one tent. A final check of tasks. Then, good-bye, and, "Oh. Do not forget the corkscrew, Tina." _A note to Doug. Must hurry. Do not be late for work. No time to worry now._ 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+