index


Message-ID: <44331asstr$1063746603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Goldberry <Goldberry12spam@hotmail.spamcom>
Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT
NNTP-posting-date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 21:05:16 MDT
User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25
Subject: {ASSM} RP Tom Bombadil - Angie Baby [foreplay only]
Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 17:10:03 -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

Reposted with permission

Goldberry
Goldberry12spam@hotmail.spamcom (you can figure this out :)

Emails to me or posts to ass.d will also be read by Tom.

Enjoy!


Angie Baby - [foreplay only]

By Tom Bombadil  (c) May 1997
Short story #25

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove
this text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my
friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.

Warning - there is no real sex in this story, just some intense
foreplay and innuendo.

I do not make any claims to the lyrics used.  See notes at end.

********************************************************************

"Angie!  Angie!!  Turn that music down!" yelled Dan down the hall
towards his daughter's room.  The volume dropped by a dozen
decibels, which made conversation in the front of the house
possible, but he knew the respite would only be temporary.  When
Angie was in one of her moods, nothing could long keep her from
blasting out the music.

He and Janice, his wife, exchanged pained looks, knowing each
other's thoughts almost perfectly at that moment.  Slowly, over
the course of years, they had come to realize that their daughter
was not fully sane, and there was nothing anybody could do about
it.  Counsellors had talked and listened until they went
practically nuts themselves trying to crack through her shell. 
Psychiatrists had hemmed and hawed and tried all their neat
tricks and puzzles, and failed to penetrate her outer mask. 
Doctors had poked and prodded and scanned and ran test after
test, finally deciding that Angie was, in fact, in perfect
health.

Everyone agreed, though, that she was just a little strange.

Everyone except Angie.

She had long since given up trying to have anyone else share what
she knew of reality, things she had discovered as a child, things
that others knew to be impossible.  So she learned to wear a
girl-mask, and then a teen-mask, until the day Gary Planchett had
cornered her, alone, in an empty room at school.

Nobody believed her when she said he was trying to do more than
just kiss her, even though she told him no.  He was a model
student, a member of the school council, and was a top performer
in baseball and soccer.  He had a girlfriend already, one of the
cheerleaders, so he didn't need to force himself on her.

But he had, and she had stopped him.

Plastic surgery had repaired most of his face, but couldn't fix
his damaged eye.

Nobody believed her.  Her bruises didn't matter to them.

She was taken out of school.  Angie had no friends there anyway,
so she considered it no great hardship.  By that time, she
believed that she knew everything they were going to teach her. 
When she wrote tests, she got everything right.  Always.  The
answers were always available to her if she didn't know them
already.  Nobody ever caught her cheating in a normal manner, and
nobody ever believed her when she told them how she cheated, so
they called her brilliant, gifted, a prodigy.  They also said she
was on the wrong side of a certain fine line, speaking as though
she wouldn't understand the reference.

That was another barrier between her and the normal world,
especially between her and anyone in school who might have been
brave enough to try and make friends with her.

She retreated into songs, music, rock and roll, and the radio. 
Music had always been there for her, and she had always loved
listening to the melodies and the stories.  She began to live
them.  They became her life.

Just more proof that she was crazy.

**********

  You live your life in the songs you hear on the rock & roll radio
  And when a young girl doesn't have any friends, that's a really nice place
      to go
  Folks hopin' you'd turn out cool, but they had to take you outa school
  You're a little touched you know, Angie baby.

**********

Dan and Janice both heaved a sigh of relief when the music
suddenly stopped. Silence filled the house, sounding very strange
after three hours of songs played at a very high volume.  Slowly,
other noises came to be heard - the ticking of the kitchen clock,
the hum of the refrigerator, the honking and roaring of distant
traffic.

"Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a walk!" Angie shouted, as she made
her way towards the back door.

Dan nodded, then watched his little girl stroll through the yard,
out the gate, and down the lane.

"She looks like a normal fifteen year old," he thought to himself
as he stared out the window.  "She sounds like a normal fifteen
year old too. Why can't she be a normal fifteen year old?"

His eyes caught sight of her again part way down the alley.

At five foot five, she wasn't terribly tall or terribly short. 
At ninety-five pounds she was probably a little thin for her
height, but she was still blossoming.  Her light brown hair was
shiny and clean, slightly curled, and was just a little more than
shoulder length.  It was worn loose, as usual.  Green eyes,
already looking large in her small, elfin face, were made to seem
absolutely huge and luminous with just a touch of makeup.

Smiling was a thing she did often, usually because of something
in her private little world.  Her perfect white teeth, which had
never needed braces, were almost all put on display by her
generously wide mouth. Lightly tanned skin, a faint, natural
blush, and features that were regular and even, combined to
create a budding sensuality.

Despite her youth and lack of full development, she was proud of
her body.

Breasts the size of small apples, hips starting to spread, a very
narrow waist, long legs, and slender thighs and calves gave her a
look of youthful innocence with that hint of wantonness so many
older boys and men found attractive.  She was becoming beautiful.

Another pair of eyes watched her as she walked down the alley. 
There was no bemusement there, no love, no tenderness.  Lust and
desire filled them, leaving no room for anything else.  Bob,
their next door neighbour's son, was staring out of an upstairs
window.  His thoughts were far from pure.

Bob was not a nice guy.  He was a senior in high school, got very
good grades, was the star quarterback, and had himself a
scholarship to a prestigious college.  He also collected notches
on his belt.  Being a tall, good looking blond hunk, well
muscled, and a suave, debonair kind of smooth talker, he had a
regular string of girls that put out for him.

He used them, but they weren't enough.  They were too easy.  He
liked collecting notches.  At seventeen, he was both worldly
experienced and hardened.  There was an extreme lack of normal
morality or conscience inside his person.

He'd already been into the panties of every loose girl in school.
 All the girls that weren't so easy, but liked to party, he'd had
too.  Slipping a Mickey Finn to a girl he wanted was perfectly
acceptable, in his eyes.  His favourite memories were of the
sixteen year old Fawsey twins.  Both were out at a senior party
for the first time.  Both went with dates.  Both drank the
special rum and cokes he made.  Both were virgins when he had
them.  He left them lying in bed together when they started
recovering.  Both blamed their dates when they regained their
senses.

Any girl that was rumoured not to scream when cornered he'd also
had. Willingness was not a prerequisite for his conquests.  One
girl, Stacy, had learned not to bother struggling whenever he
wanted her.  All she did was cry, turn around, and drop her pants
and panties.

Neither was age a barrier to his desires.  Anything growing
breasts was fair game for his lusts, young or old.

One fourteen year old girl that he seduced, then raped, was just
barely pubescent.  By the time he finished playing with her mind,
she believed everything was her fault and her idea.  She was his
willing sex toy, pretending to enjoy his vaginal, oral, and anal
attentions.  He grew tired of her after two months and gave her
to a couple of his football buddies.

His thirty-four year old math teacher was his oldest victim.  He
blackmailed her into having sex with him.  He had her at least
once a week for an entire school year, and he insisted that it be
without any protection whatsoever. She gave birth the following
August, then moved away.  They never saw or spoke to each other
again.

Bob was definitely not a nice guy, and he was watching Angie with
that same gleam he had when starting his other conquests.  He had
seen her naked many times, as he stood outside, in the dark,
watching through her bedroom window.  He believed that she wasn't
concerned about being careful since her window was ten feet above
ground level, but he was resourceful.  He had watched as her flat
breasts swelled out to small handfuls, as her hips changed from
vertical to slightly curvy, and as her bottom grew from little
girl to rounded woman.

His favourite times were when she played sexy or romantic songs.
'Only You' was a song that she danced slow to.  'Girls Just Wanna
Have Fun' was one she danced to like a crazy person, her small
breasts swinging all over the place.  Anything by Dr. Hook had
her lying on the bed, hands between her legs, bouncing up and
down.  Watching her jerk off, seeing her teen breasts rolling
around, absorbing all the looks of passion and ecstasy that ran
across her face, always had him hard as a rock and jerking
himself off right then and there.  He always imagined himself in
the room, laying on top of her, pumping his seed into her belly,
impregnating her with his child.

Those were always some of the best climaxes of his life.  He even
used that fantasy sometimes when he was with one of his normal
girls.

He liked what he saw, and he had finally decided to take her.  A
plan had formed.  The idea in his head came from overhearing Lyn,
his mother, and Janice, her mother, having another of their talks
about Angie.

"She's definitely a bit touched.  Still talks about all kinds of
wild things.  Things that just never happened."

"One day she swore that Meatloaf came to her room and made love
to her. She played Paradise by the Dashboard Lights over and over
and over again until Dan took the record away from her."

"What else?"

"How about Jerry Lee Lewis?  She told us she went to the movies
with him, and they kissed and petted in the dark on the balcony.
She said he was circumcised."

"You've got a ... very strange girl."  Lyn paused for a moment
before continuing.  "What's her wildest one so far?"

"Oh, she claimed that the school's entire soccer team abducted
her from the middle of the park and took her to a secluded glade.
 They then stripped and danced with her for hours, all in the
nude.  Then they all kissed her on the lips and the nipples and
the pussy, got dressed, and took her home.  Only when we
pressured her did she admit that it was her ghosts doing the
deed, not the real team.  She's going to drive me batty with her
wild fantasies one day."

"You poor dear.  Here, let me get you some more tea."

Bob had his plan.  He thought there would be no danger, since
nobody would believe anything she said anyway.

The next Friday, Dan and Janice left town for the night. 
Naturally, Lyn, and therefore Bob, knew all about it.  Angie,
despite her strangeness, had long since proven that she could
safely be left on her own.

Lyn also went out for the evening, on a date with a guy she was
involved with.  Those dates usually lasted until the following
afternoon.

Bob had his opportunity, and his plan.  He thought there would be
no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway.


"Hi, Angie.  How'ya doin'?"

He watched her face very carefully, seeing what he took to be
nervousness, awe, and a touch of fear in her eyes.

"Fine," she said.

"Can I come in?  I forgot my keys at school and I'm waitin' for a
friend to bring 'em over.  He said he'd be here 'bout ten or so."

Bob figured five hours alone with Angie ought to be plenty of
time to do anything he wanted, regardless of how she reacted.

"I guess.  As long as you don't make a mess, and you take off
your shoes, and you say please, and you promise to do as you are
told."

He smiled warmly and with apparent sincerity.  "I promise."

Bob stood there for a few seconds, looking at her, waiting for
her to finish opening the door.  Finally, he grew impatient.

"Well?" he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Well?" she replied, with a sour look on her face.

After another short pause, he came to realize what she was
waiting for.

"Please, may I come in?"

She smiled brightly, pulling the door wide open for him.

When he walked inside, she stopped him with a hand on his chest
before he could take two steps.

"No, no, no, you naughty boy.  What did I just tell you?"

It took several more seconds for him to remember what else she
had said. Only when his shoes were off did she let him proceed.

"Have a seat on the couch.  Would you like a drink?  Koolaid? 
Orange juice?  Ginger ale?  Milk?"

"You got anything a little, uh, stronger, maybe?"

"Oh, you're one of *those*, are you?  Someone who doesn't like
the world as it is, who needs the edges removed, the barriers
lowered.  Here, I'll sneak some of my Dad's vodka.  He'll never
miss it."

She got him his drink - vodka and orange - a double at least, by
his estimate, and he watched her face and body as she moved
around the bar. His cock got hard, imagining her without the
t-shirt and jeans she was wearing.

He didn't recognize the music she had playing, but then again, he
didn't know or care much about music anyway.  The words seemed
appropriate, at least to him - "... all in all you're just a
'nother brick in the wall." Bob grinned in anticipation, crossing
his legs to hide the bulge that was forming.

"Aren't you gonna join me?  After all, it  ain't polite lettin'
your guest drink alone."

"No, I don't think so.  Reality flows and changes enough for me
already.  I don't need depressants or stimulants to make things
even weirder.  You'll be drinking enough for both of us. 
Besides, terrible things could happen if *I* were to lose
control!"  She laughed, as though what she had said was
uproariously funny.

Angie sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a glass of
ice water, watching him.  Bob was a little nonplussed by her
words and actions.  They weren't those of any fifteen year old
he'd put the make on before.  "I guess she is weird," he thought.
 "This might be too damned easy."

"I heard that your folks are gone for the night.  Is it for
somethin' special?"

"Sort of.  Dad says it's for business, but I know better.  They
just want to get away and be *alone* together.  Mom doesn't like
doing *it* with me in the house.  She thinks I'm spooky."

He thought hard for a few seconds.  "Are you spooky?  You seen
them doin' *it*?  Or do you even know what *it* is?"

With a wicked and wanton grin, she replied.  "Yes, and yes, and I
know  all about the birds and the bees and making whoopie."

Bob grinned back.  "So you know all about it.  You've seen and
done it all.  You're an experienced woman.  I got just one
question - how many  real guys you done it with?"

A wistful look chased away her grin.  "I've only ever done it
with the ghosts and spirits I conjure up.  They aren't very
satisfying, because they only ever do what I can already do
myself.  And I have all these dreams ..."

"You've ain't never done it for real then.  You ever kissed a
guy?  You ever even had a real climax?"

"Kissing.  The act of pressing lips on lips.  If tongues are
exchanged, Frenching is the proper term.  Only once, a few years
ago, with a boy I didn't like, who forced me to French him.  It
was disgusting.  I've wondered ever since what it would have been
like if he had been nice."

"Hmmm.  Y'know, kissin' someone nice is somethin' you gotta be
taught. Then you gotta practice.  It's like playin' a piano. 
Anyone can play with one finger, but you gotta have lots of
training and practice to sound like Mozart."  That was a line
he'd used, successfully, several times before.

"Taught.  Practice.  Piano.  Mozart.  I wonder if he ever tried
playing with his lips.  Then again, he being a he, he probably
didn't have the right lips to play with!"  She laughed again,
almost maniacally, at her own words. The young man didn't know
what to make of her conversation.

"Bob," Angie said, speaking in a soft, little-girl voice, "do you
know how to dance really good?  Can you teach me?"  Her look of
innocent pleading prompted a new surge in his manhood.

Events were not unfolding in any way, shape, or form like he had
envisioned them.  The script was being followed, rather loosely,
but he felt like their parts were written by completely different
people for completely different plays, and they were only
superficially appearing to mesh.  His hormones and lust overrode
any reservations running through his brain.

"Yeah, I could, on one condition."

"What?  What do you need for dancing?"

"I'll teach you to dance, if you'll also let me teach you to
kiss.  Deal?"

Bob had also used 'dancing' and 'the deal' as a seduction ploy a
few times. The reality of pressing body to body, with hands free
to roam at will, had turned on many of his dates beyond the point
of no return.  He thought it a fortunate coincidence that she
wanted to learn how.

"Kiss.  You want to dance and ... kiss.  Okay.  Deal, for now. 
Wait here. I'll go find the right mood."

Ten minutes later, Bob was getting quite antsy and worried. 
That's when the classic voice of Tom Jones started up.  As Angie
walked into the living room some few minutes later, he stood to
greet the new her, lust and amazement fighting for dominance on
his face.

Gone were the jeans and white socks.  Gone was the t-shirt.  Gone
was the bra she'd been wearing.

A black velvet minidress hung from spaghetti straps crossing her
flawless white shoulders.  The upper half concealed enough of her
breasts to keep her legal, at least in most states.  Her chest
was revealed right down to the bottom of her breastbone, and the
sides of her dress swept down the outside of her body, beginning
their rearward journey only when they reached the bottom of her
ribs, ending just above the beginning of her bottom, revealing
the dimples in the small of her back.  The hem sat several inches
above mid-thigh.  She twirled to show herself off.

His eyes kept travelling of their own accord, as they lacked any
guidance from his higher brain functions for a moment or two.

Black patent heels, sheer charcoal gray nylons, a silver
necklace, silver quarter-moon earrings, and one wrist full of
bangles completed her apparel.

Her hair, which had been down, was done up in a complex braid of
some kind, leaving several wisps of light brown hanging in a
frame around her face, a face which he couldn't quit staring at.
She was beautiful - young, innocent, and vulnerable, like one of
those waifs seen in the fashion magazines.  Green eyes, large and
luminescent, blinked a few times as she watched his reaction.

Bob began drooling, in two places, as he envisioned his cock
being sucked on by those pale, innocent, lips.  His imagination
supplied him with several different expressions for her, from
wanton lust to outright fear and revulsion.  In all cases though,
he was buried to the hilt in her throat. He had to shake his head
to clear it of the images and toss back the rest of his drink
before he could say hello again.

**********

  Angie, baby, you're a special lady
  Livin' in a world of make believe - well, maybe
  Stoppin' at her house is a neighbor boy with evil on his mind
  Cause he's been peekin' in Angie's room at night thru her
       window-blind
  I see your folks have gone away, would you dance with me today
  I'll show you how to have a good time, Angie baby

**********

Bob taught Angie how to slow dance, showing her how to hold him,
what steps to use, and got her to relax and move smoothly.  It
was hard for him to believe she had never danced like that
before, because she seemed to learn incredibly fast.  Within ten
minutes they were pressed body to body, her arms reaching up to
circle his neck, his arms around her waist.

He liked the feel of her young body.  It was firm, yet soft and
pliable, and she moved sensuously and with sure steps.  One of
his hands wandered down her bare back, slipping into her dress. 
Again he was startled, as he found no panties or pantyhose - just
her bare bottom.

"Eek!  Take your hand out of there!  You haven't earned that
yet!"

After another quick feel and accompanying eek, he returned his
hand to her back.  Her words disturbed him yet again.  It seemed
to him, more and more, that she was toying with him, following a
story he had not yet read.  His mind was confused, but his lust
was certain.

Angie giggled, then whispered into his ear.  "Well, we're
dancing.  Are you gonna teach me to kiss now?  And the answer to
your other question is yes. As you well know."

There was a slight hitch to his movements as his brain tried to
catch up with her words.  "Other question?" he asked.

"Yes.  You remember.  You asked me if I'd ever had a ... you
know."

"What?  Had a what?"

"A climax.  Like you asked, yes I have."

A small twinge of fear flashed through his body.  "And how am I
supposed to know that?"

"You are silly, aren't you.  I mean, my Dr. Hook albums are
almost worn out.   I played one of them every other time you were
outside watching!  Now then, you wanted to teach me to kiss,
remember?"

His feet stumbled for a second and his heart skipped a couple of
beats before Angie reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. 
He found her willing, tasty, and very much inexperienced.  His
heart began beating a little faster and he almost forgot his
shock.  The fingers of one hand wandered around to her front,
under her dress, heading for a nipple.  They got slapped away.

"Not until you teach me to kiss good!"

That was a task he enjoyed, despite the strangeness he felt in
the situation.  "She definitely ain't all there," he thought. 
"But, what the hell.  She's hot, and I'm fuckin' ready."

They eventually moved to the couch, with her straddling his lap.
He figured she either didn't notice or wasn't bothered by his
erection, or the wet spot developing on his pants.  They kissed,
with her getting better with every passing moment.

Bob decided it was time to get serious.  He slid the straps off
her shoulders, baring her breasts.  They were white, cone shaped,
not yet fully grown, and capped with small pink nipples.

His cock jumped in anticipation.  He wanted this woman-child. 
Badly.  His fingers traced around her mounds, eventually reaching
their goal.  Two pale pink little soldiers rose to attention
under his gentle touch.

With a moan, his lips left hers and captured one hard nipple. 
Her moan joined his as she pulled his head in closer.  Trailing
wet kisses down one hill, through the valley, and up the far
side, he moved to the other sentry, the one standing stiffer than
ever before.  Tiny whimpers coming from her throat were as music
to his lust-besotted mind.  He believed she was hot and ready for
anything he wanted.  He wanted everything she had to give.  And
more.

Using both hands, he pushed up the hem of her dress, caressing
her thighs and buttocks, exposing those most secret places to his
gaze.  Her bush had barely gotten a good start, hiding little
more than the centre of her mound.   All else was covered in a
fine, nearly invisible velvet.  Another gasp escaped from her
lips as his hands squeezed her soft, velvety smooth bottom.

The strangeness continued, as she called his name.

"Bob.  Bob!  Listen to me!  You promised to do what I told you,
remember? Kiss me.  Kiss me some more!"  So he did, lifting his
head from her chest.

Both his hands remained occupied with her hips and thighs,
fondling and learning about her flesh.

Some minutes later, his lips started wandering again.

"Bob!" she whispered.  "Stop right there!  I gotta know right
now!  Before we go any further, do you love me?"

"What?"  That strangeness was back in full force.  His glands
answered with the response he had used so often before.  "Yes!" 
He tried recapturing the lost soldier, but her hands held his
head captive instead.

"Say it.  Tell me.  Or we stop right now!"

"Say what?"

"Do you love me?  If you do, say it!"

"Yes.  Yes!  I love you!"  His hands pulled her crotch up tight
against his, and he groaned at the sudden heat.  He didn't care
about what he was promising, since he never kept those types of
promises anyway.  He considered them nothing more than another
tool for helping get his cock inside a woman's holes.

"Will you love me forever?"

"Yes!  I'll love you forever!  Now kiss me!"

She opened enough of his shirt so they could clinch skin to skin.
 His bare, hairless, well-muscled chest was beaded with
perspiration.  Her nipples felt to him like diamond tipped drills
boring holes into his flesh.  The heat and softness of her
breasts, small as they were, still caused his heart to jump
again, finding another, faster rhythm.

"Do you need me?  Will you never leave me?"

"Yes.  Yes!  Enough questions!  It's you and me forever, baby! 
We'll never be separated.  I'll love you forever, if that's what
you want!"  His harsh, whispered answer brought forth a huge,
highly-satisfied smile, and an odd laugh, from somewhere deep in
her soul.

The oddness haunted him.  His strange reactions haunted him.  His
lust drove him forward.  Somewhere in his brain a little voice
cried out a warning, but was drowned in hormones.  Justifying his
words and actions was second nature to him.  He thought she was
young, foolish, that she'd forget all about him when her next
crush came along.  Besides, his inner voice continued, someone
has to mold her, break her in, teach her the rules of life.  And
he liked kids.  Or, at least, he liked making them.  Bob almost
believed his own reasoning, that he was improving the average
quality of the human gene pool by getting so many women pregnant.

Angie pushed back off his lap and stood before the young blond. 
There was a slight shaking of her entire body, followed by some
thigh rubbing, breast squeezing, and nipple pinching, all
self-administered.  She whispered at him.

"If you mean for us to be together, forever and ever, give me a
minute, then come.  Follow the music to find me.  I'll be
waiting."

The young brunette stood up straight, dropped her arms, and
wiggled.  All of the black velvet fell from her hips, leaving her
nude except for stockings and heels.

"Remember, follow only if you mean forever," she whispered again.

Bob watched that round, youthful bottom sway out of the room. 
After at least a minute, which was how long it took for him to
regain his composure, he followed.

A hard driving rock song started playing, louder than anything
he'd heard that day, and it got louder as he approached the only
closed door in the hallway.  He found the lyrics hard to
understand, despite their volume.

>I remember every little thing As if it happened only yesterday
>Parking by the lake And there was not another car in sight

The doorknob beckoned, so he turned it, and the door opened.  A
wall of sound hit him, engulfed him, flowed over and around him,
and pulled him into the room.  The door closed, seemingly by
itself, sealing him in.

>And I never had a girl Looking any better than you did
>And all the kids at school They were wishing they were me that night

"Something's screwy!" a tiny part of his mind yelled, unheard
amongst the turbulent thoughts and emotions running through his
brain.  "Get out of here!" it shouted.  Yet, again it was
ignored.

Her naked body was in focus, over near the bed.  Nylons and shoes
were gone.  She was hot, dripping, and waiting for him, according
to his ego and glands.  She looked ripe and ready to be taken and
fertilized with his seed. All the rest of the room seemed fuzzy,
blurry, out of kilter, as though he were seeing it in one of
those funhouse mirrors.  A moving one.  The only light seemed to
be coming from her stereo.  His hands reached out for her, and he
managed a step forward, even though he found moving difficult.

>And now our bodies are oh so close and tight
>It never felt so good it never felt so right
>And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

There was a chuckle under and around the music as she moved away
from his hands and his vision.

"Forever.  You promised me forever.  To love me forever.  To stay
with me until the end of time."  There was a definite
undercurrent of victory in her voice as she continued.  "Now you
are mine!"

>Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife
>C'mon!  Hold on tight!
>C'mon!  Hold on tight!

A hand stroked his neck, then worked its way from his back to his
front, under his arm.  She undid the last few buttons of his
shirt.  He felt frozen, unable to move or think, unable to even
reach up and grab her hand. Fear finally began to take hold.  The
weirdness had at last sunk in to his hindbrain.  The shirt he was
wearing slid off his shoulders and fell to the floor.

"You promised to do everything I told you.  I'm holding you to
that promise."  She stepped into view again, a vision in white
and tan.

>Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night
>I can see paradise by the dashboard light

"You're going to teach me so much, and we've got all the time in
the world for lessons.  Some day I might even let you break my
cherry.  But for now, it's time for dreams and thoughts and
imagining what will be."

She reached over and started turning down the volume.  His vision
grew blurrier as she seemed to grow and stretch, and the room
swirled around and around.  The sound faded slowly, along with
his consciousness.  When everything was quiet, she was alone.

"Mine, forever," she whispered, eyes closed, holding on to the
volume control, seemingly recovering from some sort of powerful
release.

**********

  When he walks in her room, he feels confused, like he walked
       into a play
  And the music's so loud it spins him around 'til his soul has
       lost its way
  And as she turns the volume down, he's getting smaller with the
       sound
  It seems to pull him off the ground, towards the radio he's
       bound
  Never to be found

**********


>Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night
>I can see paradise by the dashboard light
>Paradise by the dashboard light

"Dan, do you think we did the right thing?  I mean, she is
seventeen and all, but still, she hardly ever seems to leave her
room any more."

"I don't know, Janice.  Maybe, maybe not.  But, how could we say
no any longer?  She's been bugging you to let her start on the
pill for more than two years, ever since that Dan kid
disappeared.  She's old enough to make up her own mind now, even
if she is crazy."

>You got to do what you can
>And let Mother Nature do the rest
>Ain't no doubt about it

"That's something I still wonder about, too.  I mean, his shoes
were in our house the day he vanished.  He had to have been here.
 What happened?"

"We'll probably never know.  All Angie ever says is that he's
hers forever and ever.  Just another one of her weird fantasies."

>We were doubly blessed
>Cause we were barely seventeen
>And we were barely --

"It's not just that, Dan.  Ever since we let her start on the
pill, she keeps locking herself in her room and playing that
stupid song.  It's almost enough to drive *me* crazy!  And you
*know* what she's doing because you can hear the bedsprings
squeaking and the headboard banging in spite of the music!  We've
got to get her out to meet some boys somehow."

>We're gonna go all the way tonight
>We're gonna go all the way
>And tonight's the night ...

"Who?  And where?  Janice, Angie is only seventeen.  Maybe she's
just a little slow when it comes to social skills.  There is a
lot to learn, as you know.  I mean, you and I certainly took our
time about going the distance. Remember?"

>OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here, two down, nobody
>on, no score,
>bottom of the ninth, there's the wind up, and there it is, a line shot up
>the middle, look at him go.  This boy can really fly!

"Of course I remember.  But just remember that we started kissing
on our second date.  I was seventeen then too.  And, believe it
or not, you were not the first boy I ever kissed."

"Yes, I remember.  And yes, you were definitely better at that
kissing stuff than I was.  You were a lot more practiced then
than I was."

>He's rounding first and really turning it on now, he's not letting up at
>all, he's gonna try for second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and
>here comes the throw, and what a throw!

"Come on, Dan, you know what I mean.  I'd been on dates since I
was fourteen, just like you.  We learned how to react to the
other half, and found out about what we liked and didn't like and
all that stuff.  Angie has needs and desires just like any other
hormonal teenager, yet I've never even heard of her kissing a
boy!"

"I think you're overreacting.  Our daughter is a really smart
girl, somewhere underneath all the craziness.  One day she'll
probably surprise us by just grabbing some guy and dragging him
off to bed or to the altar.  I just pity any poor sod she sets
her sights on.  He'll never know what hit him."

>He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out!
>No, wait, safe -- safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen
>out there.

"So why do you think she wanted to go on the pill?  Is she seeing
some guy out there somewhere that we don't know about?"

"I doubt it, Dan.  When I took her in to the doctor for her
physical before getting her prescription, she was still a virgin.
 Besides, when does she ever leave the house?  All she does is
sit in her room, play music, and *do* stuff."

>Batter steps up to the plate, here's the pitch--
>he's going, and what a jump he's got, he's trying for third, here's the
>throw, it's in the dirt--
>safe at third!  Holy cow, stolen base!

"Hon, there's not a lot left that we haven't already tried.  She
is back in school now, at least, and she is getting top marks
again.  That has to be worth something, right?"

"Yes, but she doesn't interact with anyone there!  She has no
friends, no relationships.  It's not healthy!"

>He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost daring him to try and pick
>him off.  The pitcher glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down
>the third base line, the suicide squeeze is on!

"I thought we agreed a long time ago to let her go her own way. 
Angie isn't any kind of normal girl, so we can't expect her to do
normal things. Besides, Janice, what would you do if she suddenly
started going out on hot dates all over the place?"

"I ... uh ... oh God, you're probably right.  I'd go crazy
worrying about her going all the way with some smooth talker
who'd use her and dump her. She is so innocent.  I just hope she
finds someone some day.  We don't want her growing up to be an
old maid, do we?"

>Here he comes, squeeze play, it's gonna be close, here's the throw, here's
>the play at the plate, holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

"There go those damned bedsprings again!"


**********

  The headlines read that a boy disappeared, and everyone thinks
       he died
  'Cept a crazy girl with a secret lover who keeps her satisfied
  It's so nice to be insane, no one asks you to explain
  Radio by your side, Angie baby

  Angie, baby, you're a special lady
  Livin' in a world of make believe - well, maybe
  Stoppin' at her house is a neighbor boy with evil on his mind
  Cause he's been peekin' in Angie's room at night thru her
       window-blind
  I see your folks have gone away, would you dance with me today
  I'll show you how to have a good time, Angie baby

**********

<Fin>

********************************************************************

Author's Notes:

This story was inspired by a rather strange song I fell in love
with many years ago.  It tells the tale of a crazy girl who is
quite different from normal people, in more than just her sanity.

"Angie Baby" was a song written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen
Reddy.  It was fairly successful when released in the mid
seventies.

"Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" was written by Jim Steinman
and sung by Meatloaf and Ellen Foley, with play-by-play spoken by
Phil (Scooter) Rizzuto - Voice of the New York Yankees.

"Another Brick in the Wall" was written by Roger Waters and
performed by Pink Floyd.

All lyrics used without permission.

-- 
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: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+