Message-ID: <47192asstr$1079817003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0403190804.3a413f24@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2004 16:04:01 +0000 (UTC) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 19 Mar 2004 08:04:01 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 40/94 by jane Lines: 96 Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 16:10:03 -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: newsman, dennyw Author: jane Title: Glimpses 40/94 Summary: Mai battles evil spirits. Keywords: none Length: 665 words Copyright: c. 2004 *30 May 1997, Friday* _okay, first ... before you get too crazy ... how am i supposed to know the ages of these kids or if theyre kids at all ... or if theyre really doing what they say ... or anything about whats real in there ... its just a fantasy, a dream ... you might as well arrest the bard for killing caesar or get upset about the divas on a daytime soap ... at least thats how i saw it back in ninety-seven ... its easier when one looks backward ... mai was just about to write a whole new chapter looking off in time in space ... but even she got caught on her illusions ... while packing up the last few items of her past ... we ought to play a bit of pomp and circumstance for her slow, bittersweet commencement ... chicago ..._ *§* A single suitcase would suffice. The rest was boxed to be delivered. _Just a bag to make the taxi know that I am real. A thing to take up space inside the belly of a jet. Some bulk for which to tip a bellhop. Some clothes to tide me over. Enough to be presentable. Just keep it simple, stupid. Kiss._ A Venus flytrap, waited on the bed for Mai to fill it. She wrapped the antique light bulb, first, inside a crumpled section of the _Trib_, then slipped it into folds of yellow gossamer, a silk nightgown, and tucked the bundle neatly in a corner of the bag. _Treasures. The ringing! It annoys me once again. The telephone mirage._ For weeks that sound had gulled her, had brought her running from a packing job or picking at a lunch. At first, it fooled her totally. At first, she knew exactly which sweet voice would wait for her to stumble, trip across the tape and bash the empty cartons, rushing to her lover. But, always nothing. Not the click of someone breaking a connection, not a waiting breath nor muffled sob instead of speech. Nothing. Just the picture in her mind of Tina's eyes, a tone of voice that previewed their reunion. _Maybe not this week. But soon, a month, to settle things with Peter._ She'd waited with the dial tone pressed against her ear, lost track of time, until the warning signal shocked her back to work. One time, she didn't answer, just stood beside the phone and let it ring. Then, knowing what she feared to know, she let her fingers touch the base, to feel for the vibration. Of course, it didn't move. It wasn't real. That should have ended things, but even when the phone was disconnected yesterday, the ringing didn't cease. Even with the phone inside its box inside a packing crate, the calls from Tina interceded. It annoyed her that her mind played tricks like that. _She will not call. She is not coming. It is not ringing, really._ Mai smoothed the wrinkles from a stack of blouses as she placed them in a case. The evil spirit gave it up before her plane touched down at Pearson in Toronto but not without a parting imposition. Mid-air, the sky phone came alive just as the seatbelt sign extinguished. _It is not too late. Christine would find some way to get patched through. She knows the date and flying time, Air Canada. She may say that she will catch a flight this very night. She may have tried to make it to O'Hare and failed in heavy traffic. She may be standing at a ticket counter now with grisly tales of tragedy. Her hair dishevelled by the wind. A manager beside her. How is it that your sister's name is Oriental?_ The fifteenth ring and not another passenger had blinked. _Another hoax, a bondage game my mind is playing._ Mai, with her napkin, covered up the veal before the steward leaned a little closer. "Another glass of wine, Ma'am?" The ringing stopped and never came again. 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+