Message-ID: <46990asstr$1078261808@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0403011946.535c4054@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 03:46:42 +0000 (UTC) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 1 Mar 2004 19:46:42 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 22/94 by jane Lines: 204 Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 16:10:08 -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, dennyw Author: jane Title: Glimpses 22/94 Summary: Marsha gets a chance to say she's sorry to Rebecca. Keywords: none Length: 946 words Copyright: c. 2004 *10 January 1997, Friday part two* _some writers use a 'story code' like bdsm or mff to warn their readers of offence ... or, more, to advertise a thrill ... i find them odd ... as if a story was a subaru, a sticker on its side ... 'mind trips' are more complex for everyone concerned: readers, writers, drivers, workers in the auto plant ... but if a system was invented to codify a life ... warning signs in bright red colours ... maybe ... maybe then id reconsider ... while mai was sleeping ... while tina paced the tiny space between the hotel beds and drove herself insane with worry ... marsha hid her feelings ... toronto ..._ *§* At 2:06 the hallway choked with students pretty much the same as any Friday afternoon: a ball got loose and tumbled from a locker, a shriek, a giggle. A slam of metal. The slap of binders on the floor. A tender moment at a fountain, male hands against a female waist. No harm, no foul. No one even noticed. Marsha Carmack, in the washroom mirror, looked a bit morose perhaps, more so than yesterday, but not suspicious really. Rebecca smiled. It all seemed normal. The same as any day, she still observed the Code, the one that they'd invented. Rules that started out with no's. No public touches. None at all. No furtive smiles. Nor frowns. No conversations out of groups. No stares. Not inside of class nor out. No hint of secrets. No volunteering for the same committee. No saying "we." No bickering. No lover's quarrel. No public touches. Then, do's. Include a third or fourth if possible. Talk dreamily about some guy that wasn't free. Drop hints there was a boyfriend in a distant place. Call Ms. Glegg a freaking dyke. Refrain from public touches. Marsha kept the Code. As far as she could tell, Rebecca did the same. Practice had been cancelled. She kept her face a blank while on the bus. Even all alone at home, she hid inside the crunch of sound that shook the house until her mother's car pulled up the drive. The supper was just supper. No fights about the dishes. Then, finally, in her room, she put the Code aside and dialled Rebecca's number. She held the phone up with her shoulder, cleared a section of the desk with both her hands. "Did you tell him yet?" "No." "Why not?" Marsha clipped her words like they were fingernails that fell among the litter on her desk. "I just didn't." "You going to?" "Maybe. Someday." "You hate me?" "I'd never hate you." Marsha pictured tears roll off Rebecca's cheek to wet the telephone. "Ever." "Today was awful. I wanted you so much. I wanted just to look your way. To say your name out loud," she whispered. "I know." "Come over? Please. I want to say I'm sorry. Not like this. I didn't mean to hurt you, Bec." "Your math done yet?" "I haven't started. Please. We'll work. Whatever. I couldn't concentrate today. I need to see you. Please." The silence lasted five long seconds. Marsha opened up her mouth to plead again just as a solemn voice replied, "An hour. 'Kay?" Marsha should've planned her speech. Instead, she shuffled papers on her desk. She should've thought things through more carefully from Becca's point of view. She washed her hair. She should've taken stock, not counted down the seconds till she heard the doorbell ring. The only words that filled her mind were, "I'd never hate you. Ever." _Make it right somehow. Just do it._ She heard her mother in the foyer give a greeting, heard footfalls on the stair, then opened up her math. She watched Rebecca enter, winter on her hair and in her voice, a stiffness in her manner. She gave a friendly hug, a flip complaint about quadratics; she didn't mention what had happened yesterday. Marsha tried to make amends, "I was stupid, Bec. I'm sorry." Rebecca cut her short. "It was me. My mood." "I love you, Bec. You're so important. Just let me say I'm sorry." "Let's do the work right now. We've got all weekend." "You _should_ tell your dad. I'm cool with that." "Not now." Marsha touched her lover's hair, caressed her neck. "Let me draw you." _Let me have your blouse and bra. Put you on the bed. Slide your panties off. Draw you first, then lick you till you cum._ "Polynomials. For now." Defeated, Marsha flopped across her bed onto an open text and left the desk for Bec. "_Us_ later then." "I need a pencil." Rebecca pulled in the chair and leafed through papers. "How can you work in all this mess?" "Like you're so neat. Right?" "At least, I find my stuff." "Try the drawer." "Who's this?" "Who's what?" "Who's 'jane'? The addy?" "We met last night. I was upset." "So was I." "It was about you." "How nice. You said you didn't do that anymore." The chair pushed back. No Code protected them. Her voice grew harsher. "Was she good?" "I was bummed. I wasn't looking for a cyber. It just happened." "It _happened_? But you got off. Congratulations." "Bec. It wasn't anything. She made it sound like she was you. It's not like someone real." "I was up all night. That was real." She pressed her lips together. "Don't do this, Bec. I love you." "You love yourself. You're not fussy who it's with." "Becca, please. Don't get pissed again. It was nothing." "Whatever. Whatever turns you on." "Bec." "Not like we're that serious, right?" "What?" "I have to go." "No." Tears overflowed Rebecca's eyelids as she left. Marsha's, "Fuck!" was just a mumble, one that echoed in the hollow of the room for days. 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+