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From: timidt@NS_hotmail.com (Timid)
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS}Vanishing Point Part 1 (M/ff, B and D, Kidnap)
Date: Sat, 29 Sep 2001 07:10:04 -0400
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                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER
                                     ===================

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and 
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author.

The authors explicitly prohibits.

1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form. 

2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express 
    permission.

3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
    written permission of the author.

This work is copyright TM Quin and timidt 2000

All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to 
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.

Timid and Quin 2000

  timidt@hotmail.com                           tmquin@attglobal.net
*****************************************************************

		Vanishing Point : Part1 (Elizabeth)
	===================================



      The hotel room was nice, by hotel standards at least. Elizabeth
      seldom made too much note of her surroundings in these
      situations. Hotels were tools, nothing more. Tools to further
      her career and help her achieve her objectives.

      She vigorously blow-dried her hair. Impatience and activity
      were her calling cards. No matter what Elizabeth was doing, she
      was always looking ahead, looking forward to the next step, the
      next goal. She bent over and flipped her golden brown hair
      forward, moving the blowdryer all around and running her
      fingers through the strands. Straightening up, her hair flew up
      and back in a shining arc. Reaching for the brush, Elizabeth
      continued to style her hair.

      Finishing, she quickly donned her clothes. Professional.
      Expensive. These too were some of her calling cards. The
      straight skirt of dark blue linen hugged her slender hips but
      ended a modest inch above her shapely knees. Gleaming white
      blouse, accented with touches of lace on the collar. She
      stopped to put on her minimum of make up before slipping on her
      hose and shoes--low heeled, leather pumps. She slipped on the
      matching double-breasted blazer and stood before the mirror,
      appraising her image.

      She smiled, seeing the confident up and comer that she was. The
      blazer accented her chest nicely, curving around her good size
      breasts and swooped in to hug her slender waist. Elizabeth
      wanted to be recognized for her skills in advertising but was
      definitely not above utilizing her natural attributes.

      As she quickly gathered her things into her bag, Elizabeth ran
      through her list of things to do. One more meeting with a
      client. That hopefully wouldn't take more than an hour. A short
      commuter flight home and then....Elizabeth smiled. A surprise
      for Keith. He had been so upset that she would be away on their
      anniversary. Well, she was upset about it, too but some things
      just had to be! After all, this was her career she was thinking
      of. And the more she accomplished in her career, the better
      their lives would be. She was really doing this for both of
      them, for their marriage and their future.

      She slipped quickly into the rental car. A deep breath. Then
      she pulled out into the street and on to her meeting.

      Elizabeth's mind wandered slightly as she drove. At 28, she was
      one of the up and comers at the ad agency she worked for. Some
      of the men she had bypassed on her climb up the corporate
      ladder resented her and called her Lezzie Lizzie behind her
      back. This amused her to some extent. Lesbian thoughts never
      entered her head and, actually, thoughts of sex were often far
      in her subconscious. There were better things to do with her
      time. Although she loved Keith, sex wasn't a priority in her
      life. Being Elizabeth Monroe, ad executive, was a priority. And
      Elizabeth she was, not Liz, not Lizzie, not Beth. Elizabeth.
      Professional, competent, successful.

      The meeting went well and was over right on schedule. Elizabeth
      carefully and gently extricated herself from the client who
      thought maybe, maybe she would have drinks...and a little fun.
      The traffic to the airport was relatively light and Elizabeth
      made her flight with more than enough time to spare, fifteen
      minutes. As she settled in her seat, smiling. Keith would be
      happy. They could still celebrate their fourth anniversary
      together. And the fight would be long forgotten.

      Picking up her car at the airport, Elizabeth drove quickly
      home...barely under the speed limit as was her personal
      preference. Always within the rules, but perhaps pushing them
      just a bit.

      She pulled into the driveway and sat for a moment. Taking a
      deep breath and mentally preparing herself. She knew Keith
      would want sex. Although she enjoyed sex, it didn't arouse in
      her the same passion it seemed to in Keith. It was a pleasant
      enough experience but...well....orgasms were something foreign
      to her experience. Oh, she faked it and she hoped she faked it
      well enough to fool him. It seemed important to Keith that she
      have an orgasm and she didn't want to hurt his pride by
      confessing that she had never in her life had one.

      Leaving her bags in the car for the moment, Elizabeth walked
      quickly to the front door and unlocked it. Inside, all was
      quiet. Elizabeth was a little confused...it was only 6 on a
      Wednesday night, where could Keith be? She looked through the
      downstairs, straining her ears for any sound. As she started up
      the stairs, she heard noises coming from her bedroom.

      Slowly, fearfully, she pushed open the door. A small noise in
      her throat. Her hand to her mouth, the other clutching the
      front of her immaculate blouse. Her brain tried to deny the
      sight before her. In her house. On her bed. With her husband.
      Her sister. Her useless sister who had no ambition, no goals,
      no plan. Her sister. With her husband. Keith. Her husband.
      Naked. Sweating. With her sister. With a cry, she ran down the
      stairs, not heeding the calls from Keith.

      With sobs crushing in her throat, gagging any intelligible
      sound, she wrenched open the door to her car, sliding in,
      shaking hands turning the key in the ignition. Finally, as she
      reached up to put the car in reverse, she looked up. There, on
      the porch, a sheet wrapped about him was her husband. Keith. A
      look of torment in his eyes. Their eyes locked for a moment
      before Elizabeth put the car in reverse and peeled out of the
      driveway.

      The rush hour traffic was beginning to thin. Elizabeth drove on
      and on. Not thinking. Refusing to feel. Blocking the feelings
      of betrayal as completely as possible. Her mind only on the
      road, the car, the traffic.

      Out of the city, she knew not what highway. Just driving. No
      radio. No sound. Just the road and the landscape rushing past.

      The sun began to set behind her. And still she drove on into
      the night.

      The warning ding of low fuel finally drove her from her
      isolation. Gas, she needed gas. Looking around, she realized
      she didn't know quite where she was. Somewhere along the drive,
      she had taken a turn onto a smaller highway. No cars were in
      sight. She was truly alone. A small knot of fear began to grow
      in her chest. With relief, she saw the lights of a gas station
      up ahead. Elizabeth wearily pulled in and began to pump her
      gas. Looking around, she wondered how any station this far out
      could have enough customers to stay in business. The night was
      dark and lonely. The only sounds interrupting the crickets came
      from a beat up looking roadhouse across the street. With wry
      amusement, she noted the name of the roadhouse. The Vanishing
      Point. "Just what I need to do now," she whispered to herself.
      "Vanish." A further survey of the area showed a small tired
      looking motel just a bit farther down the road.

      After paying the pimply faced teenager behind the counter,
      Elizabeth trudged back to her car and turned it towards The
      Vanishing Point.

      Entering the bar, Elizabeth kept herself from turning up her
      nose at the smoke stained walls and floor. The place was
      packed, suprising her. She didn't think this many people lived
      out in the boondocks. Sliding into a chair at a vacant table,
      she numbly ordered a drink and surveyed the inhabitants of the
      bar. Rough, mean looking men and hard looking women. Elizabeth
      felt out of place and out of sorts. But, it was her
      anniversary. And she was going to celebrate. "Mind if I sit
      down?" the voice was almost too soft to be heard over the din
      of the jukebox.

      Elizabeth looked up into the man's soft, gentle eyes. He wasn't
      bad looking, in a rough-hewn sort of way. Quickly, before she
      could change her mind, Elizabeth nodded. "Of course. And how
      are you?"

      Denying the hurt, the pain, refusing to acknowledge the replay
      of her husband and sister's betrayal playing in her
      subconscious, Elizabeth smiled sweetly at the man in the chair
      next to her. "My name's Elizabeth. What's yours?"

	Elizabeth watched the man next to her, smiled at him, flirted
      with him. She sipped her drink, running her finger around the
      top of the glass as she set it back down. As they continued the
      idle chitchat, Elizabeth's mind was working, trying to see how
      she got here in this rundown roadhouse talking to this man. It
      was her anniversary. She should be with her husband!

      With a start, I realized what I had done, what had happened. I
      was Elizabeth. I found my husband in bed with my sister.
      I...I...the thoughts, the memories flooded over me. The man
      next to me looked concerned, his hand tightening on my arm.

      "I...I'm sorry. I need to get out of here. I..." Words failed
      me. I couldn't believe I had disassociated myself so completely
      from my surroudings. This was real! It all was real and not
      some story I had made up in my head. This was true.

      I could feel my face flushing as I thought how I had shut
      myself off, put myself as a character in a third rate novel.
      This was what I had done as a child, in my made up fantasy
      worlds. And I had reverted.

      "Please tell me what's wrong," his voice was kind, his hand
      gentle on my arm.

      Settling back into my chair. "I...I can't talk about it. I just
      can't." The tears were so close.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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