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Message-ID: <37316asstr$1026717008@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Souvie <souvien22@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Souvie <femecrivain@netdot.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Lady and the Ladder" (MF, rom) (Souvie and Stasya T. Canine)
Date: Mon, 15 Jul 2002 03:10:08 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


(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. 

No reposting without my permission. Copyright 2000, 2001, 
2002.

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Souvie/www/
http://storiesonline.net/Stasya_T_Canine
---

I, the person who wrote the story that follows, release
ALL interest in and the copyrights for this story - to
Souvie. 
---

                  The Lady and The Ladder 
      (companion piece to "Romancing Jack" by Souvie)
                            ---
                 (Written by Stasya T. Canine)

---

'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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