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Subject: {ASSM} The Lady and The Ladder {anon} MF Rom
Date: Wed, 19 Apr 2000 20:10:03 -0400
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Souvie asked me to post this for her. I didn't write it.
(introduction by Souvie)
The day my story, "Romancing Jack" was posted to ASSM, someone
contacted me about writing a companion piece - the story from Jack's
point of view. I was extremely flattered, but also nervous because
that character is loosely based on someone I know and I was afraid
no one else would be able to do him justice. After reading the
rough draft of this story, I realized I was wrong - the story is as
close to perfect as it could be without being written by "Jack"
himself.
---
I, the person who wrote the story that follows, release ALL interest
in and the copyrights for this story - to Souvie.
Call it a sense of fairness. They *are* her characters after all.
I and three other people (that I know of) know for certain who wrote
this. Guess all you like but I would appreciate it if you keep
those speculations private.
---
The Lady and The Ladder
---
(Ghostwritten for Souvie)
---
'Come off it, Jack. She's a writer and you're a painter who likes to
read. What makes you think she'd see you as someone to get to know
better? She certainly ignored you after the introduction at the
party.'
Variations of those thoughts had been running through my mind ever
since that party. I suppose I was smitten after that first rather
absent-minded "Hello". No, no suppose about it. I felt like some
kid meeting his idol.
Charlene - 'Call me Charly' - had brown hair that billowed as she
moved her head. Not really long but long enough. A rare smile that
dazzled me whenever I glimpsed it. Her body was average but she
moved with the same quick vitality that she used in her writing.
I had enjoyed dreaming of the writer I never expected to meet.
At that party, I fell in love with the woman who hid behind the
words.
What chance was there that a house painter could capture someone
so... Alive? None, but after a month of agony, I decided to at
least try.
---
Charlene was on a ladder and putting the finishing touches on the
sign for her office. I don't know how long I stood there just
drinking in her movements and dreaming of a future that would never
be.
Finally, I blurted out "Damn, you sure are good!" As soon as the
words were out, I regretted them. 'Come on idiot. You know better
than that. That has to be one of the worst pickup lines you've
heard, let alone spoken yourself.'
She stifled a scream, jerked and would have fallen had I not grabbed
her waist and steadied her. I felt her shiver slightly before she
regained her balance. "Sorry." I ducked my head in embarrassment.
"I really do know better. Didn't mean to scare you like that."
Now what do I say? Cool move on my part. Scare the woman so she
falls into my arms. What else can I do wrong?
Oh. I moved back and gave her some room.
"That's ok. No harm done." There was a long silence while she
climbed down. Once off the ladder, she raised her eyes to look at
me. I noticed one of her hands start to rise and then she seemed to
wake and force it back down. She introduced herself and I told her
we met at a party. I caught myself shifting to lean down and... I
jerked myself back to reality.
She finally asked "Why did you say I was good?"
Yeah. Dunderhead. Explain that one. I looked away and focused on
the small sign. "That. I enjoy reading your articles." I paused
to gather my thoughts. "I read your article in the Tribune last
Sunday. Very well done and clear. Easy to understand. You're
obviously good at what you do."
"Oh. Thank you." I watched as she forced back what looked like
the beginnings of a blush.
Rather than comment, I held out my hand. "Well, I better get back
to work. See you again maybe?"
Was that a slightly quizzical smile? "Sure." Her grip was as
steady and confident as her writing.
---
For the next few months, we just visited whenever we happened to
meet. Somehow, without any agreement, I started dropping by her
office to let her know what I thought of her articles. Those
discussions fascinated me. She had a range of interests that was
staggering in its scope. I discovered she liked to take walks when
she was trying to solve a writing problem. I fell into the habit of
letting her know if I was going to be working somewhere nearby.
She would stop, say hello and without any real awareness of what I
was doing, I would take a break and visit with her. Those meetings
became as routine as my visits to her office.
Still, for all the fun we shared, I felt like we were just two
people who happened to take time to visit. Never anything more. No
sign that she was seeing me as more than someone she could just
relax with.
The friendship was sweet and enjoyable but... I wanted more. Some
sign that I was more than a friend. A few brief touches as we shook
hands became fuel for dreams that were much more. Her smiles and
jaunty stride became kisses and passionate couplings.
Ahhh... How I dreamed so much - based on so little truth.
Finally, one day, in a spirit of 'go for it', I tried to look casual
and relaxed as I sat on the edge of her desk. She looked up and
smiled.
"Charly? How about you and me... having dinner somewhere? A real
date. I'll be done with this job in a few weeks and I'll have some
free time."
Was that surprise? Something more in her eyes? "Sure."
We talked some more and finally sorted out a time and day. When she
asked if I had any idea where, I just smiled. "Dress casual but
elegant. I get tired of these." I gestured at my painter's outfit.
Yes, I think there was a gleam in those eyes as I waved and left.
There wasn't any one thing I could point to and say "This told me
our relationship changed." But, change it did. We both 'knew'
things had changed and that we didn't need to speak of it. For one
thing we seemed to have conversations that explored us together
rather than as individuals. Our silences were deeper and filled with
companionship rather than awkwardness. Charly opened up more when
she talked about herself and her dreams.
When I first saw her, I was amazed at the energy that filled her
movements. The energy was still there but somehow she seemed to be
directing that energy directly at me rather than its just 'being
there'. She stood taller. She walked with more pride in herself.
And, in spite of her plainness, there was a proud sexiness in every
move when she was in public.
I'd scoffed when a few friends had told me of times when they met a
woman and both of them knew - without any discussion - that they
would end up sexually involved with each other. Well, sometime
after we committed to our 'date', Charly and I reached that
understanding. We hadn't even kissed but we both knew we wanted to
be with the other. It's a strange feeling. Every look, every word,
every touch... becomes a promise for the future.
The dinner was a giddy experience. We ate at a little Italian place
near her apartment. It was all I could do to keep from dragging her
across the table and crushing her in my embrace. Whispers and
giggles. Smiles. Lots of smiles and even a few grins. I felt like
a teenager on his first date. For all my experience, I found myself
trembling and hesitant when I dared to hold her hand as we visited.
What had happened to the woman I'd been around for over four months?
Charly was as elegant, confident, hesitant, trembling, sparkling and
mysterious as ever. Somehow she seemed lost, alone and unsure at
the same time.
Maybe that explains what happened at her door when I escorted her
home. I dared to hug her before turning to leave. Gods, was she
vibrant and alive. I didn't want to ever let go.
She grabbed my hand as I turned away and then, suddenly, her eyes
glowed and she pulled my head down and kissed me. Once I recovered
from my surprise, I forced myself to kiss her back. Lightly. I
wanted to crush her to me and fill my kiss with all the love I felt.
I didn't. Charly would have none of that. Her kiss became more
urgent. She started filling it with promises of herself.
With that, I let myself go. I don't know how long we kissed or who
it was that finally broke contact. I felt her shiver and stagger.
I steadied her as she reached for and leaned on the doorframe.
Before I left, I whispered "Charly" and bent down and gave her a
brief kiss. I barely heard her whispered "Jack" as I managed to find
my way to my car.
---
Was it days later? Weeks? A month? Finally, we admitted to
ourselves and our friends that we were a couple. Hell, I couldn't
deny it since I walked around with a goofy grin every time I thought
of her. People noticed.
We started spending time at each other's apartments. There were
intimate explorations as we sat and talked or watched TV.
'Accidental' contacts became deliberate and open. We quit
pretending and would touch and grope each other when we felt like
it.
Her eyes danced and she glowed during these games.
One evening, as we started one of our 'arguments' about what to
watch, Charly hid the remote under the cushions and then sat down on
them. "You'll have to go through me. I'm not moving!" She was
laughing so hard she could barely get the words out.
A challenge I couldn't resist. I suppose I could have picked her up
and moved her. Wouldn't have been the first time. This time I
grinned and reached down the back of her pants with one hand and
started tickling her with the other. Then I leaned forward and
covered her mouth with mine in an effort to distract her even more.
At first, she gave as good as she got.
Somewhere in all the action, we forgot about the TV and the remote.
I'll never be able to tell which one of us changed the rules. I
vaguely remember my hands shifting from 'tickles' to 'caresses'.
Our kiss, at first filled with laughter, changed. Instead of
teasing, it became a question. As we continued, it turned into a
promise and finally - mutual demands.
Groping hands and teeth worked frantically to remove our clothing.
Was it me? Or was it Charly who growled softly as we had to pause
and remove my boots so my pants would come off?
I never knew until that night that taking each others' clothes off
could be so erotic. Finally, with only lust to drive me, we were
naked, on the floor and doing everything we could to excite each
other. I'm ashamed to admit it now but there were no thoughts of
love in what I was doing. Charly had filled me with lust. All
those dreams came home and changed to reality.
I had one thought and I sought to complete it. In Charly. She
matched me move for move until...
"Protection!" It was a whispered gasp. Desperation and lust
colored it. I was so out of it that it took me a few seconds to
realize what she meant.
Pants. Where were my pants? My hand flailed in a frantic search.
My hips kept moving. Seeking. Somehow Charly managed to keep me
from slamming home.
Ever tried to rip open a condom packet while your hips are thrusting
at a woman?
Don't.
Suddenly, I heard what can only be called a low, very throaty growl
- of frustration. It came from Charly. She tore the package from
my fumbling hands, stuck it between those perfect teeth - and
savagely jerked her head to one side as one hand held the side of
the packet.
How in *hell* did the condom itself survive? She applied it in one
swift, very certain move and before her hand left the base of my
penis, she was sliding home.
Somehow I managed to shift and brace myself for better leverage. I
had one thing on my mind. Sex. Completion. I had just enough
rational thought left to help her shift so my penis would rub
against her clit with each thrust. Then we pounded at each other.
Rapid, lust filled movements - were the only world I knew. Slamming
together. Squeezing. Digging. Seeking. Months of thinly veiled
hints and promises combined into a few very magical minutes that
finally left us both slack and gasping for breath.
I had to laugh as her whisper broke into my thoughts. "I need a
drink." I watched as she gingerly got up and staggered into the
kitchen.
Cool air reminded me of a duty. Without really being aware of what
I was doing, I reached down and started to remove the condom from my
flaccid...
Pain made me look down. As I heard water fill first one glass and
then another, I was struggling to find a way to untangle my pubic
hair from the partially rolled up condom.
Bare feet made me look up. She was standing there partly bent over
and offering me a glass of water. She also had a slightly puzzled
look as she stared at my hands.
"I can't get it off."
"Huh?"
"The condom. I can't get it off." My lips quirked slightly and I
stammered. "You put it on in such a hurry that it's tangled up in
my pubic hair. I can't get it off."
"Oh." Pause. "Hang on." She set the glasses down and went over to
her desk. Metal gleamed in her hand as she returned. As she bent
down to hand me the scissors, we couldn't keep silent any longer.
My laughter was a bit forced but it was genuine for all that.
Together, we carefully snipped away until I could, with care, remove
the now very tattered condom.
The rest of the night was very gentle and very loving. I had one
more condom with me. We never needed it. That first time tired us
out so much we decided to cuddle.
The remote stayed buried in the cushions for several days.
---
Things went on from there. We got closer and closer as time passed.
I honestly expected that we would be together for some time. That's
how comfortable our relationship was. Steady and caring. Deep. We
hadn't discussed it openly but I felt - committed.
Then she got a call. A death in the family. She was needed.
No problem. I even took her to the airport, kissed her tenderly and
waved good-bye as she boarded. "See you when you get back". Her
answering smile was wan but genuine.
When she got back, she was tense. Curled inward. I figured she was
still recovering.
Instead of bombarding her with questions, I waited in silence as I
drove us to her apartment.
It was when I parked to let her off that she finally spoke.
"Jack, I don't think we should see each other any more." She was
crying.
I wanted to demand an answer. Any answer. Wasn't what we had
shared special for both of us? Why now? What happened?
Memories of my father surfaced through my shock. "Son, when a woman
says no, no matter what, you *will* treat it as NO. No questions.
No begging. You accept it even if you think you are sure she doesn't
really mean it. If you don't and I hear about it..."
I sighed and allowed myself one sentence. "Do I get to know why?"
"I just think it's for the best. I'm not ready for a relationship.
I never will be. We should just end it now while we're still
friends."
I didn't think that sounded good even to Charly but I nodded sadly.
Somehow I managed to wrestle her bag over the seat and set it
between us.
Not looking at me, she took it and fumbled for the door latch. I
watched as she walked up to her door and went inside. It was a long
time before I reached over and closed the door. I didn't want to
end the happiest days of my life with something as final as a car
door slamming shut on darkness.
Once in awhile over the next months, I'd see her somewhere. At
first she was alone but finally she was with some guy I didn't know.
I envied him. Did he know what a prize he had in his life? I didn't
think so.
Every time I saw Charly I couldn't help but notice she was
different. The spring was gone. That spark that made Charlene -
Charly - had vanished.
Life goes on. I went on. I tried to forget and mostly succeeded.
Still, I couldn't put that first vivid image out of my mind.
Charly, startled, shivering into my hands as I steadied her on the
ladder.
---
Last night the doorbell rang. It was late. I was tired. I tried
to ignore it.
The second long ring convinced me I couldn't. "I'll get there!" I
doubted if whoever it was would hear me but it felt good to yell it.
The shrill sound of the third long ring was still knifing through me
as I opened the door.
I barely recognized the disheveled figure who stood there. She was
sobbing and frantic.
"Charly?" I didn't get a chance to say more. Arms I remembered so
well tried to squeeze me flat. Her mouth sought mine as if it were
the only thing capable of saving her from drowning.
She was still shivering when she pulled away slightly. I could
barely hear, let alone understand, her words as they tumbled out in
one long rush. "I'm sorry, Jack. God, I'm so sorry. I was an
idiot. I loved you, I still love you. I was just so afraid.
Afraid that one day I would wake up and you'd tell me you never
really loved me at all, that it had just been a game. Or that I'd
lose you, through my own stupid pride or stubbornness or the fact
that I'm not perfect or because one day you'll die."
Once she started, the crying began again. Words. Tears. More
words. Somehow, through it all, I received the impression her last
lover had used her.
There wasn't anything I could do except wait her out. Finally she
nestled into my embrace and seemed to relax a little.
"I made a mistake and I was stupid. Please say you'll give me
another chance."
I couldn't help my smile. "I made a mistake, too. I let you walk
out of my life and didn't even try once to get you back. I was
stupid. Please say you'll give me another chance."
There was a hint of her normal grin as she smiled through her tears.
I was crying too as I invited her back into my life. "Let's get
you out of those wet clothes, then we'll do something about us." It
felt like the most natural thing in the world to have her cuddle
into my side as I reached to close the door.
-fini-
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