tell_me_a_story Sensuality As I wrote in tell_me_a_storie the "ie" is important. But now I will tell a story. Thank You TK for your kind words. “It was early yet. No one really wanted to leave. I can still remember it. We were all seniors; it was our last year of high school. We were all out at the hill. You know the one that over looks the bay. It was beautiful there at sunset. We used to go up on Friday nights. We all took our… girlfriends. She was great. She always smiled, like I was the only thing in the world she could see. I always wanted to tell her I loved her when she smiled at me like that. I never did though.” “This Friday we all drove up right after school it was the last Friday before school let out for summer. Andy took us up in his new car. We always made fun of Andy. We would tell him that he was a prep, but he knew we were kidding. We were all friends… real good friends. She was so happy that day. I remember she was smiling when I kissed her after school. I kissed her teeth. She laughed at me… she was always so happy. George and Kelly, Andy and Mel… Mel was perfect for Andy. She would be our class valedictorian every one knew it. George and Kelly were your typical teenage couple, he played football she was a cheerleader… it sounds so cliché. Kayla and I… we were… magic. Every one said we belonged together. We had gone out since ninth grade. I never told her I loved her… I regret that now, more than anything else. She deserved it… she was so happy.” “We never did anything. We kissed. We kissed a lot and I touched her a couple times, but Kayla was good. She was so perfect. All the guys thought she let me go all the way and Kayla never said anything… she said that if they were so shallow that they thought that was all that mattered then their opinion didn’t matter. I never said anything either… she was so good to me… I should have. I should have protected her, but the guys all gave me respect. I’m so sorry Kayla. All the girls thought I was such a sweetie because we didn’t… I never deserved her.” “She was wearing shorts and a yellow midriff shirt. She always looked great. We were all in Andy’s new sports car. He had the top down. He was speeding but no one cared. He slammed on the brakes when we reached the hill. Every one laughed. It was a beautiful day, if she had known that this is how I would remember her she couldn’t have chosen any better. The sky was a perfect blue. The one old tree that stood right along the cliff was as green as I can remember. She led me out of the car by the hand… the guys said I was whipped and maybe they were right… I would have done anything for her… she took me to the tree and kissed me. She was so soft. She was sitting across my lap her fingers tangled in my hair. I always remember that. She loved my hair. She loved to touch it, it always felt so good, like her blessing on me… she was an angel.” “She died the next year. Cancer. I watched her die… I visited her every day. When she lost her hair to the chemo I used to lay next to her with my head on her lap… she would run her fingers through my hair. I came every day. I talked to her… I pretended nothing had changed. I knew she saw what I was doing, but she never said anything. She never screamed at me “Michael, I‘m dying! Don’t you care?” In a way I wished she would have. But she didn’t and I never told her. I never told her I loved her smile, the way she laughed at me when I did something silly. I never told her I loved her fingers in my hair, or her kisses, or her hands on my face. I never told her. I watched her die and I didn't tell her. I could say I didn’t know, but I did, she was my reason for living. I loved the way she loved life.” “ She’s dead now though, but I’m still here. I don’t remember the way she was in the hospital, but instead I remember the girl that kissed me on that sunny hill under that perfect blue sky, I remember her as the angel she was. Every day is so hard. Some days getting out of bed seems to be more trouble than it’s worth, but now I live for her. I live so that her smile might be remembered, so that her laughter will still echo. I never told her that I loved her, but now I live to tell the world.” 030919 ... neesh amazing 030919 ... Sensuality The apartment was empty now. The walls were bare and the floors were clear except for the furniture. The pictures were gone. She thought he had thrown away all the ones of them together, but he had kept one. The time they had gone to the beach and gotten their picture taken. It was one of those cheap black and white photo booths. You got six different posses. In three of them he was kissing her. In the last ones they had posed with silly faces, crossed eyes and tongues sticking out. The little knickknacks they had collected had been distributed and their CDs had been divided up. He recalled the painful conversations, filled with awkward silences, sitting at opposite ends of the couch. The couch they had sat on last Valentine's Day, holding each other and watching “Casablanca”. The couch they had once slept on before they had a bed. The couch they had bought together at that long ago yard sale. Their couch. The couch where they had divided their lives. “Do you want this one?” “No, you can have it.” “What about these? I know you liked them.” “Yeah, well, I’ll think about it.” He remembered, too, all the things he had not said. Why are you leaving? Don’t you remember like I do? The moments when everything was perfect, because we were together? Don’t you remember? Do you care? Why are you leaving? Don’t go. I love you. He went into the bedroom they had shared for more than three years. The vanity table with the lights that she used to sit at every morning was still in the corner. And the bed, the first thing you noticed was the bed. It was a king size bed, incongruous with the tiny room. It had been covered with silk sheets and a downy comforter. It had been their most expensive possession. He tried not to think about the bed. The sheets and the comforter had been donated to Goodwill earlier this week, along with most of the books that had filled the shelves lining the walls. She had kept her books, but he had only kept one, The Princess Bride. They had read it together one night when the electricity had gone out. They had lit candles on the coffee table and huddled on the couch under a blanket. She had read the first couple pages then gave him the book so he could read. She had leaned against him with her knees tucked under her. He remembered the way the candlelight had lit up her face and made the book almost glow. It was a magic book for him. The closet was empty as well. The single white rack and bare bulb looked stark and gloomy. He recalled the weekend they had cleaned it out for spring. They had found all their old clothes and tried them on. They had danced around the living room. Her in her prom dress that still fit perfectly and him in his powder blue tux. Her clothes were probably hanging in her new closet in her new apartment. His were packed in boxes in the truck parked outside. Closing the closet door, he turned to the man and woman in the room with him. He watched them with a peculiar envy. He was tall and thin, looking kind of serious and mannerly. She was tomboyish in a soft pretty way. They looked happy together. He noted the way the woman grasped the man's hand and the way he would glance down at her every so often and smile. “We used to be like that,” he thought to himself “What went wrong?” "Here are the keys. The phone is still hooked up; the number is in the kitchen. I hope you two are happy here,” he said as he left, closing the door for the last time. 030920 ... TK I really enjoyed the first story, how you made her BF's memory of that day so crisp and vibrant, although I think it may of overstated just how optimistic and happy Kayla is, IMHO it's not something that needs to be overly repeated for the reader to get the message, also I think that you allowed ppl to know too soon that Kayla is no longer alive, but I truly liked how you decided to have her die, so many ppl are dieing of cancer now a days witch made the story completely probable. -- The way you started the story was blunt and to the point witch is good bc it helps progress the story w/o having to do a lot of explaining. I liked how you rambled on about the couch (it was like the way I felt about replacing my old shoe laces in a way, they've witnessed so much!) and I think many other ppl could relate to this train of thought as well. When you wrote “The vanity table with the lights that she used to sit at every morning was still in the corner." I could imagine him remembering watching as she brushed her silky alburn hair and put on make up (even though she didn’t need it) I could see him getting ready for work and pausing to watching her. You didn’t have to say anything about the vanity table, but you did, I liked that. I personally don't like how you went on about the bed, although I understand why you did it and I'm pretty sure there are others who disagree w/ me about the bed. It's simply my own personal thing about the bed not being the exclusive place for "fun" or being romantic, after all think of all the places in the house that haven’t been exploited for such things. I'll let your imagination run w/ that. I like that not only does she have books but she's going to keep them, it implies that she's intelligent. I like that you explain why he kept The Princess Bride book made me wish I had some one to share a book w/ like that, you really did a fantastic job w/ that part of the story. W/ each paragraph you add history and memories to the life of this couple witch makes them so real and it makes me wonder much like he is why does she no longer want to be together? What are her memories? Does she now feel the same way but like him is leaving things unsaid? As for the ending, I like the fact that it wasn’t really an ending so much as it's a new beginning for every one. Also I could have simply said both storys rocked, and while I could be wrong, I thought you might be looking for a lil more insight, hope I'm not overstepping some invisible unsaid boundary w/ the above observations. 030920 ... Sensuality Thank You. She told them of her life and her mistakes. Listing them, point by point, a list that condemned her in her mind. And she told them all, bringing all her shadows to life. And they smiled at her. "We know," they said. And they embraced her soul. 030920 ... Sensuality And she dreams of parties, with people laughing and sitting around a bar… people dance like so many brightly colored tornados… music swirls gracefully, under the tables and through the chandeliers… she wakes to voices… the gentle hum of Charles Osgood… and the sheets on her bare thigh. The blankets enfold her caressing her nude form… she revels in the safety of the covers… she blinks suddenly her reverie fading from mind and the black asphalt ribbon rolls ahead of her. Eyes roaming across forgotten musings she recalls how just the other day the passenger seat was filled… how quickly time changes things… and the world is evanescent… like a field filled with deep fog… and she has arrived. Her eyes close in relief for the joy of relaxation that fills her weary body. She closes her eyes and she dreams of long nights at the beach… the crash of waves rushing through the screen… the warmth of a body aligned against hers… the scree of gulls and the wash of light pour into her eyes and she wakes to the telephone. There is a conversation which will be forgotten in the haze of sleep and her mind crawls back towards the oblivion it sought. She holds close the rush of crashing water… drops of sunset splashing on her skin and closes her eyes in awe of the power that is she. To be as a godess in your own world, she molds her days of sun and rain… she shades her figures with emotion… blood red love, blood red anger… denoted only by the degree of black, the icy whiteness of indifference and antipathy… yellow happiness and blue excitement… purple tears roll down her face as her eyes close and she dreams of friends and hospitals and the overwhelming terror that is helplessness… they walk out whole and unscathed… smiling as the victorious do… smug and arrogant… filled with the knowledge that it could have been them… they come to her… and she hears voices that are unfamiliar and foreign to her friends, but she knows them as if she had dreamed them before. The radio is playing, “… and everything… is gonna be alright…” And she smiles at the dawn that is today. The steering wheel is warm in her grip… she squints into the sun… perhaps she did the right thing… sometimes you say yes and sometimes you say no… was it all worth it… and she smiles as tears run down her face. She walks through the dark confidently as one who has done it a million times before and indeed she has. She crawls between the sheets wrapping the protective layers around her bare body and she fold her arms around herself dreading to sleep, but she dreams… the kiss of his fingers on her body… caressing lips that move across her face… a thousand tiny butterflies and she denies herself… she shouldn’t, but she must… her body careens through the dark roller coaster that is his passion and she looks into his eyes… he does not speak, but she hears words… “…this is the best day I can ever remember, I’ll always remember…” and a single tears runs down her cheek… she smiles… the radio plays on, but she is oblivious. She is dreaming. 031005 ... Sensuality The clouds thundered over head and rain splattered across the sidewalks as she hopped out of her car and ran. Bolting across the parking lots through the soaking rain she desperately hoped no one would notice her white shirt had long since soaked through. Late again. Surprise, surprise. She was late for graduation. She hurriedly ran to her homeroom… this is the last time she would see it. She pulled her gown over her soaking clothes and shoved her cap down over her sopping hair. She attempted to comb it out but it would not obey her fingers commands, so she left it. These things never work out properly. It had been a beautiful day. The sun was out and there was a light breeze, but shortly before two o’clock clouds had rolled in. Graduation had been moved into the gym a mere four hours before it was supposed to start. Well at least she was graduating. She was dressed just in time to be herded into the hallway and lined up. She stood next to her friend and they laughed nervously. The hallway was filled with voices laughing and talking nervously… they hand you a tiny scrap of paper and send you off to face there world… how exciting, how terrifying. The halls were bright with the false glow of fluorescent lights. They were humid and stuffy and smelled of the dampness and sweat of five hundred kids packed into them. Except that they weren’t kids anymore. The lines began to move and hundreds of teenagers marched down the hallways that they knew so well with all the decorum they could summon. They had done it, they were graduating. They were torn with a thousand emotions. Nervous and anxious, excited and scared, sad and mightily relieved, they smiled with apprehension and paced solemnly down the halls. Their teachers had gathered along the sides of the hall to cheer them on their way. She caught the eyes of her favorite teacher and he grinned in acknowledgement. Good Job… she felt the tears start… she would not cry, she wanted to leave. She shook his hand as she passed, smiling through the tears she could not hold back. They filed into the auditorium and despite hours of practice still managed to get it wrong. Then their friends took the stage, class officers, the valedictorian, the salutatorians, people they had known for years. And they stood and celebrated those years. The joys they had shared, the heartbreaks, the laughter and the tears. The class of 2003, survivors of bomb scares and fires and food fights; the victors over calculus and physics and builders of the courtyard. They left in their wake a slushiless legacy and the respect of a school that they had never respected. They celebrated the triumphant arrival of these sparkling new adults into a bright new world. And still more of her friends trooped onto the stage and they sang, “Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life. So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time. Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth, it was worth all the while. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life. It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life.” And she held her head up proudly and sang with them “Good Riddance” and she cried. 031006 ... Sensuality XInvaderZimX: I'm home Vyrix451:\/\/007! Vyrix451: Linds know? XInvaderZimX: yeah XInvaderZimX: she took it pretty well Vyrix451: yeah? Vyrix451: that's good XInvaderZimX: meh .......... XInvaderZimX: hey bitch Vyrix451: well if it isn't my favorite asshole Vyrix451: how's Christmas break XInvaderZimX: meh XInvaderZimX: its good to be home Vyrix451: I like the sleeping in Vyrix451: but being alone all the time sucks XInvaderZimX: want some company? Vyrix451: hmmmm .......... "Hey." "Hi." "No ones home?" "Never are. Want anything?" "How 'bout a hug?" "I suppose..." She moved into his arms and they closed around her. It was the same as every other time. They held each other, free at last to indulge. He pulled her against him and she leaned into his chest. They held each other for awhile, neither moving in the tight embrace, content just to be near each other. .......... "Wanna see my room?" "Yeah." She pulled open the door and flicked the switch. A light blue glow washed the room and she walked across it, plopping into the chair in front of her computer. "Nice." "Yeah it is, isn't it. So whatcha wanna do?" "You." She stared for a second before she burst into laughter. "I DO love you." "How 'bout a movie?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a disc. It was labeled Triple D in her hand writing. She smiled at him. "Allright. Have a seat." 031123 ... Sensuality There are stories that begin with once upon a time. They are stories of magic and daring and happily ever after. This is story begins somewhere more prosaic. She woke up. She did it everyday, and as far as she was concerned, she would continue doing it. But today would change all that, for today was a momentous day in history. Noone knows it yet, but then, in the beginning they never do. She met a boy. She thought he was an asshole. He was rude and depressing and crude. He was funny, and honest and his eyes... there was something in his eyes. And as it goes when you meet someone new, you begin to see them every where. She passed him in the hall and she said hi. She saw him in the mornings and she stopped to chat. She had some classes with him and they became friends. And already her life is different. She has in the space of six months changed her entire view of the world. You say that's not true? But at this very moment she admires and cares for a person she once believed was not worth her time. They laugh together every day. They spend time insutling each other and morons of the world. They believe in words. And they understand that here it's ok to tell the truth, because here you are safe. It doesn't mean she likes him more then her other friends, because there is still a part of her that knows that even though he is basically good and kind, he is still the asshole she met (once upon a time). And it doesn't mean he thinks she's wonderful, because often he ignores her. They have a sort of friendship... a sort of love... a sort of hate... a passion, perhaps. And they grow up together. They grow up apart. And every now and then she calls him up... or finds a message on her cell phone. and they meet. for dinner and some innuendo... a car ride and some kisses... chores and idle carresses... for a movie and casual sex. They are not lovers. They are not even friends really. They have become. They do not know what. But when he calls she comes and when she asks he allows... there are boundries, but for the most part... they are simply people who find comfort in each other. And today she is rolling out of bed. And today she is going to work, or to class, or to lunch. But maybe, he will call... or she will. They are not an affair, a fling, a couple... They are an act of God. 040709 ... puredream sing me a song 040709 ... oldephebe OK - I'll send you an mp3 file. What's you're email address? the mp3 file will use up at least 3megs of your storage capacity. (it's 3 minutes long) 040710 ... laced the fourteen year old finally gathers enough courage to give a girl he sort of likes,thinks he loves the diamond bracelet he'd stolen from his mother's jewelry closet and placed around the neck of a white teddy bear the only real thing he'd ever bought 040711 ... ;) m_revolution_21_of_'abu_ghraib_prison' 040711 ... once again "Hello?" "Hey. Do you wanna go to the mall?" "Uh? Sure I geuss. What's up?" "Nothing. I'll pick you up. See you in a bit." ...The words they say are not important... not in the sense of the words themselves. It's a complicated dance, but they are skilled... Tempting a storm... Daring to tempt... dancing with fire... "My sword is coming next wednesday." "Yeah? You excited?" And she looks up from petting the cat as he leans on the ancient shotgun. "It'll be better then sleeping with this under my bed. It hink it would be scarier, too. Can you imagine?" The imaginary sword swings up. His arm closes around her throat. 'Don't move.' "I'm yours." And she falls into him. Still they hold the pose like some ancient sacrificial tableau. "It's been like that for some time now." It is not a question. But she answers any way. "Yes." And in the moment, as if they had planned it... some unspoken signal... she sits up and his arm releases her. You could not fail to see the fire that crackles. You would not miss the slow heat, but in the haze of the afternoon the fence with nonchalance. And the occasional barbs and jagged thrusts are tinted with the glances that say, "I am yours and you are mine, but I will not yield." To the victor goes the spoils. And they do not fight... though the violence is there, it is the violence of a pillow fight. And they laugh. For they are comfortable... they understand... They have played this game before... and in the dark... they declare a draw... and she admits that she is tempted and he gives in to the delicacy of her throat... And it is not love that they are making... but passion. She is not so weak as to admit to need, but neither is she strong enough to go without. He is not so weak to admit to want, but he is not strong enough not to take. They are a match for each other. And niether will admit... and neihter will yield... It seems a bit anti climatic... We should never do this again... But the smiles on their faces and the glinting in their eyes... When the white flag is flown... no one... no one... no one... has won the war. 040711 ... Borealis a dangerous place to be. 040711 ... Syrope your voice can soothe me, and i need so badly to be soothed. who gets to be which character this time? i'll stand here holding the villan's hat. i won't put it on. not yet. i'm still waiting for my happy ending. there's two sides to every story 040711 ... Sensuality They met in the spring, before he went to war. And they fell in love, even though... And she was beautiful. Pale, pure skin framed by shining auburn curls, bright blue eyes and blue as the spring sky. And he was handsome. Strong jaw and laughing eyes, a lithe strength and dark hair resting smoothly on a movie stars face. Even though. And they were married. She was nineteen. She was young and free and innocent. And he went to war. And he came home. And he was young and free and wise. And they lived together, even though. They had three children... and a full life. They made money and grew rich and they refused to fill the bath tub, because of the water bill... Even though she was young and frightened of what it meant she loved him. And even though he knew she was not perfect, he loved her. And even though she would grow old and lose her hair she was beautiful. And even though he would have triple bypass surgery when he was seventy-two, he was handsome. And even though she had lived her life without indoor plumbing they married... in the summer with the heat and her white dress... And even though they sleep in seperate bedrooms and they have had surgeries and hair loss and fights and children. Even though, she is uptight and he is shy... even though. They are in love. She loves the quite way he is there for her and he loves the innocent way she is. And even though he is stubborn and frugal... and she is closed off and shops too much. They live in a beautiful house with their lives combined. And you may not ever see it... except in his eyes at moments when he watches her, and times when she asks where he is when she is lost. Even though... they are in love. 040718 ... pete In the dawn before time... This story... cannot be told here. 040719 what's it to you? who go blather from