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Message-ID: <48648asstr$1091185802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon)
Reply-To: anon584c@nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} new "RTFM 4" {Uther} (MF msolo M1st) [4/4]
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Date: Fri, 30 Jul 2004 07:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to 
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else. 

This material is Copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and 
keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as 
this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous permission. 

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.  

                              =--=
                              RTFM
                            by Uther 
                            Pendragon
                        anon584c@nyx.net

Chapter 4, conclusion:

Marge got another sitter, Mary, for their next date.  John drove 
Mary home and returned.  Marge was in a nightgown and robe when 
she let him in.  She put a finger to her lips.

They sat on the sofa and necked in total silence for ten minutes 
before Marge left to check on her toddler.  John took the 
opportunity to shed shoes, socks, and undershirt.  He put his shirt 
back on, with two buttons done, and slipped the contraceptive 
from the interior of his wallet to his back pocket.  Marge 
returned smiling and relaxed.

"She's down for hours."

They kissed again and his tongue played with hers.  He weighed 
her breast in his hand and tickled the nipple through the cloth.  
He eased her robe off as she undid his shirt.  They broke to 
remove these completely.

He kissed her again and then started a trail of kisses from her 
mouth across her face to her ear.  He held her tight as she 
wiggled at this teasing.  Then he trailed kisses and licks down 
her neck to her shoulder.  He moved the strap out of his way as 
he went.  Then he kissed and nuzzled a path to her breast, moving 
cloth as he went.  When he was licking her nipple, he moved off 
the couch and eased her down on the length of it.  Kneeling on 
the floor, he pulled the other side of the nightgown down and 
kissed the other nipple.  She shrugged out of the top of the gown 
and pulled his chin toward hers.

As they kissed, he stroked her torso and thigh.  He pulled her 
gown higher and trailed his hand along the sensitive skin on the 
inside of her thighs.  Her legs parted more.  He stroked his hand 
upward between them, brushing a thigh on either side.  When he 
came to the juncture, he clasped her vulva with his hand and 
broke the kiss to stare into her eyes.

"Oh, Marge!"

She smiled, and began stroking his right arm.  He bent to lick 
her far breast from the bottom to the peak.  She tasted of salt 
and of herself.  He licked over the smooth skin to the rough 
areola, and then teased the nipple with the lightest touches his 
tongue could manage.  She pulled his head down and he took as 
much of the breast into his mouth as he could.  He pulled up 
until all but the nipple had eased out against his suction, then 
took a little more in and started to tease the nipple again.  
Meanwhile he played with her labia before slipping a finger 
between them.  She was fairly damp and he moved his finger around 
in the dampness before stroking upward.  He stopped partway to 
the top and returned to the very bottom of the labia.  His next 
stroke was slower and moved a millimeter higher.

He eased his suction on her breast and kept just the nipple in 
his mouth.  He would suck it, then lick it, then move it in and 
out with his lips.  He kept stroking her cleft,  bringing his 
finger a mite higher each time.  She started to push her hips 
down to move her clitoris toward his finger.  He returned to her 
vaginal vestibule and tried to move even more slowly.  

Her hip movements had a regular rhythm now, and he sucked her 
breast to its time.  One stroke of his finger met her clitoris 
and she gasped.  He returned his finger to the vestibule and 
pushed it within.  Her hips moved more rapidly.  He stoked up the 
full length of her cleft again, passing over her clitoris.  He 
kept up that stroke in time to her movements as he tried to undo 
his belt and trousers with his left hand.  When these were open, 
he slipped the packet out of his pocket.  He removed his mouth 
from her breast long enough to tear the foil with hand and teeth.  
Then he moved to her near breast.  He couldn't seem to feel her 
clitoris any more, but he continued his stroking and her hips 
continued their response.  She was breathing hard and looking 
worried.  She tugged hard at his arms.

He pulled away and stood up.  The trousers fell when he did so 
and one step took his right leg out of them.  He pushed his 
shorts down, checked the direction of the condom, and rolled it 
on.  A few hairs caught and he had to pull them out.  Then he 
knelt between her thighs.

He covered her with his torso and she placed him.  His entering 
thrust met her spreading and raising hips.  When he was fully 
within, she sank down on the couch and put her hands on his 
shoulders.  He lifted himself on his arms, and began to stroke 
slowly in and out.  Her eyes met his and then her expression 
turned inward.  She looked worried, then almost in pain.  Then 
his sensations caught him up and he wasn't noticing her face 
anymore.

He withdrew until only the tip was held and then drove through a 
silky sliding tunnel until he was clasped on all sides and his 
groin hit her mound.  Then they fell together inches which felt 
like miles. The change of angle started to pull him out and he 
continued the move, feeling her tunnel try to hold him back as he 
slid back through the slick hug.  His glans passed through a 
clinging collar and he stopped at the entrance to paradise for 
the instant he could before the sensations made him return.  As 
he drove in, she rose to hold him and then ease him down.  This 
repeated, but it became all one sensation.  Then she clawed at his 
buttocks to draw him more tightly in.

He drove into her with all his strength.  He pulsed, drove again 
without withdrawing, pulsed.  She was speaking, she clasped 
around him.  But there was only himself, his rod.  He shook in 
that pulsing warmth, thrust, shot, thrust, shot.  He was one 
streaming stalk of nerve endings.

He was limp nothingness floating on softness and hipbones which 
gradually coalesced into a living, breathing, gasping Marge.  He 
reached down to retain the condom as he slipped out of her.  She 
shifted so that more of his weight was against the back of the 
couch.

His breathing slowed and he caught himself falling asleep.  He 
got up and headed for the bathroom with his underpants.  He 
chucked the condom, rinsed himself off, and returned in his 
shorts.

"Sorry.  I must have been heavy."

"I'm in no condition to complain.  Did you really tuck me in last 
time?"

"You looked like you needed it.  Was I supposed to leave you 
lying on the floor?  I just worried later that I hadn't set the 
alarm."

"No worry.  I have a self-setting one in the same room."  A long 
pause.  "You know, you don't have to use those."

John had known this was coming.  College sophomores didn't do 
things because daddy told them to.  He had worked out a moral 
stance which he more than half believed.

"Look.  I know you use the pill.  That is your responsibility, 
and you take it.  I have a responsibility too.  I've seen your 
struggles with the Katydid.  What you are doing by yourself is 
noble.  I'm not prepared to do that.  I have three years to go in 
school before I'm ready to either support or care for a kid.

"So I need to take precautions, as well.  I'm not responsible if 
I don't use contraception.  I'm not responsible if I leave it up 
to you.  That doesn't mean that I don't trust *you* to be 
responsible.  It means that putting the burden on you is *my* not 
being responsible.  I don't know if that makes any sense."

"It makes some.  John, you are a good person.  Almost nobody is."

"Consult my sister on that.  She thinks that I am a monster."

"Look, I need to think, and to sleep.  Let's call it a night."

"Sure."

After he dressed, her kiss was as deep and aggressive as any 
they'd shared.  He would have been ready to start over if she 
hadn't already rejected that.

                              - = - 

He called her the next evening.  After his usual thanks for her 
going out with him, he started to ask her for a date in the next 
week.

"Do you think we might..."

"No but."  She paused to let him hear that.  "But I'm inviting 
you here a week from Sunday.  10:30, if that's okay with you."

"Fine."

"This time, it's my food.  You don't bring anything to eat or 
drink.  I'm serious."

"Okay."

"What you always bring, however, ..."

"Hmmm?  Gotcha."

"Bring two."  At that, she hung up without waiting to say 
'goodbye.'

He brought two.  He also brought flowers for Marge and a book for 
The Katydid.  He had walked to the front of the bookstore with 
_Horton Hatches an Egg_ before deciding that Marge might take 
that as an offer he was not willing to make.  Hearing a Who 
would be much safer.

He read to her from the book after lunch.  It went really fast 
with her turning the pages, but still didn't catch her attention.  
She settled on the couch and two adults turned on the television 
and prayed for her to fall asleep.  When she did, Marge led John 
into the bedroom.

Soon their attention turned from listening to kissing.  Marge was 
almost the aggressor and unbuttoned his shirt for him.  Their 
kisses became wilder and deeper, he undressed her to her panties 
and sucked on her breasts before she asked him for the two 
condoms.  It was the first thing she had said since speaking to 
Katy.  She put them on the night stand beside the bed and then 
simply lay down.  He removed his shoes and socks before joining 
her.

She was silent again, but she kissed more deeply and sloppily 
than she had ever done.  She even kissed his body and sucked on a 
nipple.  He was surprised to find that this caused an erection 
both there and below.  He reciprocated and she pulled him to her 
breast.  He sucked as much as he could into his mouth and then 
moved to the other.  She hugged him to her and he reached for her 
mound.  He caressed her through the panties and clasped the whole 
delta in his hand.

She reached to push the panties down, and he pulled them the rest 
of the way off.  He removed his own trousers and shorts and 
rejoined her.  He stroked up the line of her inner thighs and she 
moved her legs apart for him.  He clasped the delta again, this 
time without intervening cloth.  The tips of his fingers, which 
he had expected to get sopping, were barely damp.  He took 
another deep, if brief kiss from her mouth, and then began 
kissing a path down her face and throat.  He continued down to 
her far breast.  There, his mouth climbed the hill and sucked the 
peak.  Her nipple hardened and he parted her labia.

There seemed to be more liquid now.  He stroked from the bottom 
of he slit to the top, sliding over her clit.  He closed the 
labia again and took to rolling the outer lips against each 
other.  While doing that, he licked a path from the far breast to 
the near one.  He licked a ring around the areola and then blew 
across it.  She shivered, and the nipple stood straight up.  He 
licked the nipple, beginning with one stroke along the side 
facing him and then moving around and taking strokes from almost 
every direction.  By this time, Marge's hips were working and 
pushing her mound up against his hand.  He again parted her labia 
and tested her with two fingers.  She was much juicier than 
before.  He started to suck her nipple while he bathed his finger 
in the secretions.  Then he stroked upward in her cleft.  He 
stopped halfway to her clit and returned for more lubrication.  
He did this five more times, always going higher, always 
stopping.

On the seventh stroke he passed her clit, with a finger brushing 
it from each side.  She sat up a little, then settled back down 
on the bed.  He returned for more lubrication, stroked upward 
again, and settled into circling strokes over the clitoral area.  
Marge was breathing in gasps.  She reached for him.

He grabbed one of the packets, managed to get it on right and 
climbed between her legs.  She raised and spread her knees and 
guided him in.  He eased through her portal and then stroked 
forward until their pubic hairs linked.  He stopped there to feel 
the warm pressure on all of his cock.  Almost as sensual was the 
joy of possession.  Some days he still could not believe that he 
was really fucking Margo.  The glorious crowing of that thought 
contrasted with the tenderness and erotic generosity he sometimes 
felt for Marge.

He slipped back and the warm friction thrilled him.  He thrust 
forward and Marge pushed to meet him.  Both the pure sensation 
and the erotic cognition were intensely sensual.  Then Marge was 
raising, rolling and dropping her hips.  He grabbed her 
shoulders.  His hips were pumping to meet hers, but it was an 
effort to just hang on.  At that intensity, it could not last 
long.  He slammed into her even harder than she was moving, and 
kept pressing inward as he erupted.  She was only two beats 
behind and kept moving against him until he was drained.  They 
both collapsed.  He felt her roll him over and thought that he 
should say something.

"Oh Marge."

"Hush.  I'll be back."

She was back quite soon, in a robe and carrying a washcloth.  She 
gestured him back when he started to sit up.  Bemused, he lay 
there and watched her strip the latex from him and then wash his 
genitals.  He was 18, his penis stirred and straightened.

She set down the cloth and kissed him again on the mouth.  She 
looked as if she had been crying, or was about to cry.  The kiss, 
however, was deep and aggressive.  Their tongues played until she 
broke the kiss.  She kissed his face and then his chest.  She 
licked and sucked both nipples until they were hard.  Then her 
mouth traveled lower.  She kissed him across his belly, now 
tensed and rigid.  She skipped to his thigh and then kissed the 
top of his glans.  She circled the tip with her lips and then 
literally sucked him inside.  She exhaled through her nose and 
sucked again.  Most of the shaft came inside.  He was as hard as 
stone.  She abandoned him for a moment to reach for the second 
packet.  She gathered him in her lips again and bobbed her head 
up and down as she tore open the packet.  She let him go and 
rolled the condom over his stiffness.

She straddled him on hands and knees so that a breast was 
dangling in his face.  He took the hint, and a nipple.  She ran 
her fingernails up and down his sides while he sucked.  Then she 
reached for his phallus and straightened.  She sat back and 
positioned him, then sank down.  He wasn't quite straight and he 
caught.  She shifted and impaled herself, surrounding his shaft.  
The consciousness of being engulfed reinforced the sensation of 
the warm, gentle clasp of her flesh around his.  

She eased herself down until her hips were resting on his groin, 
then bent forward until her other breast was offered to him.  He 
lifted it forward to his lips with his left hand and held it 
there while he played with the nipple.  Simply bending like that 
had pulled her a little bit off, and any more motion threatened 
to lose their connection.  She pressed back until he was securely 
inside.  Then she started to move her hips in a horizontal circle 
over his groin.  The feeling was a constant rubbing against 
different parts of her vagina without appreciable movement in or 
out.

The sensation was infinitely sensuous but he felt no urgency.  He 
closed his eyes and concentrated on the nipple in his mouth, 
pressing it almost all the way out, then sucking nipple and 
areola in, then holding it in his lips while he bathed the tip 
with his tongue.  He raised his right hand to hold her other 
breast.  He played with that nipple with his thumb.  His self 
absorption and sensual bliss lasted for some time, then 
consciousness of Marge's gasping broke though his happy haze.  He 
opened his eyes and focused on her face.  She was grimacing.

Either the position was causing her pain, or she was nearing a 
climax.  He stroked her side in a gesture which was meant to 
convey sympathy in the first case.  When she took no notice, he 
decided that this was sexual tension.  She, like him, was slick 
with sweat.  He swept some of it off as he ran his hand down her 
side.  Then he gripped her flexing haunch.  Her breath came 
faster, the sweet muscle he held started to quiver, her motions 
became erratic and simply side-to-side.  Then her internal 
muscles gripped him.  There was no warning, just rhythmic 
clenches.  He thrust up into them, with no noticeable effect.  
This seemed to go on forever.  She had turned bright red and her 
face looked like she was undergoing torture.  Then she sobbed.  

She dropped onto one of his thrusts, then collapsed onto his 
chest.  He let go with his lips and got his left hand out of the 
way barely in time.  He felt two quivers around his organ, then 
nothing.  Even the thigh in his right hand softened.  She gasped 
on his chest, and each motion eased him out a little.  He finally 
popped free, still erect.  He hugged her with one arm and patted 
her back with his other.  It seemed appropriate, if not adequate.  
She had broken out in a renewed sweat, but that didn't explain 
the amount of moisture running down the crook of his neck where 
she had buried her face.  He held her while her crying slowed and 
stopped.  She had Kleenex on the night stand, and took two of 
them to dry her eyes and blow her nose.  She didn't explain, and 
he didn't ask.

She reached back and touched his softened phallus.  Then she 
moved down his body.  Her breasts pressed against his belly as 
she kissed his nipples once more.  She reached back again and 
held his scrotum.  The touch was feather light on his testes, the 
suction was determined on his nipple.  He rose to the occasion.

She settled herself around him again.  This time the entry was 
not quite so smooth.  He guessed that the condom might have dried 
out.  She took him all in, however, before beginning a new 
motion.  For this, she sat bolt upright and shifted slightly from 
side to side.  This brought some in-and-out motion but most of 
the friction was from the sideways motion itself.  His mouth was 
out of play, but his hands weren't.  He held a breast in each and 
played with her nipples with his thumbs.  She started an up-and-
down motion which increased his tension without seeming to 
promise relief.  He dropped his right hand to hold her thigh, 
then to scratch it lightly with the backs of his nails.  She 
moved straight up and down, and whipped her head back and forth.  
He reached between her thighs to finger the top of the mound just 
next to her clit.  She was throbbing against his phallus and then 
she pushed herself so far down his shaft that his hand was 
trapped.

He pulled his hand out and levered himself over.  He was beside 
her and then over her.  He was hard and wanting and he drove into 
her, swung nearly out, and drove in again.  She caught the rhythm 
and matched it, pushing back at him and then dropping down.  All 
his movement was in his hips, rotating them hunched his groin 
against and then away form hers.  And then, when her clench began 
again, his legs drove him forward while his hips drove him in.  
That thrust shoved her two inches up the bed.  They were pressed 
together, and their tremors were their only movement as they both 
came.  His was over first.  He lay there with her quim squeezing 
his softening penis until she was done.  Soon after that, she 
rolled over. He dropped to the bed.  This time he really slept.

It was late afternoon when he awoke, his clothes were on the bed 
and there was noise through the closed door from Marge and her 
daughter.  He dressed before stumbling out, and found the toddler 
finishing up dinner.  He continued on to the bathroom and, when 
he came out, Katy was ready for more Horton.  They hit mostly 
different pages this time, so she was getting variety if not a 
continuous story.  Before Marge began Katy's bedtime ritual, he 
took his leave.

"Look, I'll call..." he started.

"Not this week.  It's a killer.  Besides, I have to think.  Call 
next Sunday or after."

                              - = - 

He called the next Sunday.  She was out at 11:15, at 12:10.  She 
was in at 2:00.

"Sorry.  We were at church.  The Lutheran one two blocks away has 
activities for Katy's age group during services."

"Did I hurt you by zonking out last week?"

"Darling, it was a compliment.  It's not you.  It's just that 
I've been doing too much chasing after a social life this summer 
that hasn't included Katy.

"You are a special person, John Kostner.  Don't think that I am 
saying no to you.  I'm saying no to an old part of me."

"I'll call again."

"Do that.  But don't think of me as your social life.  Katydid 
says 'Thank's for the book.'  I read it to her each night."

He called again, and once again.  The conversations were 
pleasant.  The second one was terminal.

                              - = - 

Sylvia Kostner had mentioned no more about her son's new social 
life than was absolutely necessary to establish whether he would 
be in for meals.  Her blithe ignorance was an affectation which 
didn't fool John for a moment.  The evening after his last phone 
conversation with Marge, his mother asked him to stack the washer 
and then went into the living room.  As he came through 
afterwards, she caught him.

"Come sit.  Or are you off somewhere?"

Clearly he wasn't.  He sat.

"You seem to have fallen off a dance card," she said.

"Dad is ashamed of me and you tease me about my lousy social 
life.  I should have stayed in Cambridge."

"You looked for a job in Cambridge.  I wanted to sell that car.  
If I were inclined to tease you for poor social life, I would 
have started earlier.  And your father is proud of you.  You two 
are too much alike to be comfortable with each other, but he's 
certainly proud of his son.  Tell me, is there a self-pity gland 
which takes the overflow from blocked libido?  You should have 
taken biology at the Institute."

"He certainly hasn't been expressing pride recently."  He wasn't 
about to follow her diversions.

"He's very proud of your intellect and accomplishments.  And your 
work performance at your job.  Off work, this summer hasn't been 
you finest hour."

"I don't see where my supposed misdemeanor is any worse than 
Debbie's."

"Your sister thinks you a moral idiot.  She has evidence."

"I think she'd say, 'immoral idiot'."

She wasn't chasing diversions either.  "We can't talk about 
Debbie's supposed sex life."

"The human gestation period is longer than five months, Mother.  
And nobody has any problem talking about mine."

"About two years longer in your case.  And anything Debbie has 
heard about you is from yourself.  Anyway, consider this purely 
hypothetical situation:  When a young couple want to get married 
and can't it is wrong for them to take the privileges of marriage 
without the responsibilities.  Quite wrong.  But quite 
understandable."

"Your church would forgive."

"Jesus would forgive Hitler.  And understand.  The church either 
would forgive or would sin.  Churches do both, frequently."

"And gossip."

"Even more frequently.  Anyway, ... 

"If your father died today," she continued, "I wouldn't look at 
another man.  Ever.  If he had died when you two were small, I 
would have remarried, and remarried for love."

"Anyone I know?"  He couldn't follow this curve, but it would get 
back to the subject.  Perhaps this week.

"No-one specific.  'For love' because I'm the sort of woman who 
needs to marry for love.  'Remarry' because a family takes two 
parents.  Now, a widow or a divorced woman raising a child...  
This is another hypothetical, mind you.  Such a woman needs to 
meet the man who will take on her family.  That is a given.  How 
such a woman does that is a matter of intelligence and options.  
Had that -- purely hypothetical -- woman asked me, I would have 
suggested that bedding Smith improves the odds of wedding Smith 
only slightly and reduces the odds of wedding Jones much worse.  
But then I wasn't asked.

"What any woman does in that situation is tactical.  There is no 
morality in it.  I wouldn't judge her at all.  I would, however, 
slice her throat before I would let her destroy *my* child's 
future to secure her's."

"Purely hypothetical," he said.

"Purely hypothetical.  And only if slicing her throat was my only 
option.  There has never been a woman who threatened my family in 
that way.

"Now take the situation where the woman is looking for a 
potential husband and a man who is *not* a potential husband 
misleads her.  That man is reducing her child's chance for a 
future.  That is not the deed of a hero."

"Did either you or dad ... ?"

"Your father worried.  I didn't.  The reason that a marriage 
would be poisonous for you now make you really undesirable to a 
woman with a young child.  Two people in love, people who were 
marriage material anyway, caring for their kid, seeing the future 
opening up each week they struggle toward the degree, go through 
hell!  Consider how much worse it is for two people who aren't 
that committed, people who aren't caring for their joint child."

"And you didn't point this out to anybody?"

"Judicious letting alone solves most of the problems in the 
world.  Why call attention to any resources that you might have 
beyond your own pitiful pay?  You know, your father was a very 
good judge, and we say 'everybody knows that.'  What's your 
guess?  Do five percent of the county know that he *was* a judge 
at all?"

"And if I should make a set speech to this totally hypothetical 
person laying out that I was *not* prepared to raise a 
child? ..."

"She would, quite reluctantly I'm certain," [The twinkle in her 
eye implied that she was not certain at all.  For once, John 
trusted his take on a human issue better than his mother's.]  
"decide that you were no longer date material."

"And nobody, despite the innuendoes, knows whether it went beyond 
simple holding hands."

"And not even I, the world's leading expert in the behavior of 
the male Kostner under sexual frustration and under sexual 
satiation, knows.  But that leads to an entirely new subject."

"Which is?"

"Given that you were interested in dates, and have some free 
time, you should look for other dates."

"Mother, the summer is more than half over."

"Remember Dawn Rogers?"

"Year behind me, nice girl, took her to two dances.  No chemistry 
at all."

"She is going to Boston University in the Fall.  Could probably 
use some pointers about the big city."

"No chemistry in Wisconsin will be no chemistry in Massachusetts.  
So why does she want to know me?"

"Because you know lots of boys in Boston.  You'd make a great 
co-conspirator.  And, in return, I'd bet the sex ratio is better 
at B.U. than at MIT."

"The only college in known space with a worse sex ratio is the 
College of Cardinals."

"So you return with a connection to coeds, and she arrives with a 
connection to MIT men.  Son, there is no war between the sexes.  
Girls are your allies; you just have to let them want what they 
want."

"And always give them what they want.  That seems...."

"Hell no!  Be very clear what they want.  Then if that is 
disastrous for you, or just not worth the price, walk away.  Now, 
different girls want different things, and the same girl wants 
several things.  If, however, one girl wants something from you 
that is dangerous for you, walk away."

"All that talk about slitting throats.   You really are ruthless, 
aren't you?"

"Your sister thinks you are the most selfish human being on 
earth.  You didn't inherit that from Lloyd Kostner."

"And now you are passing on the wisdom of the velvet glove."

"I was never a _Playboy_ centerfold."  So much for that secret.  
"I was a girl and am a woman.  Now that your tastes have changed 
to girls, I have some wisdom to impart.  We were perfectly happy 
with you as an immature heterosexual.  Saved lots of worries.  I 
had this discussion with your sister before she turned 15."

"So how do I get a girl in the sack?"  That should make her back 
off.

"Marry her, but not before graduation.  You asked the wrong 
question.  The right question is 'How do I get women to like me 
and trust me?'  I wrote something similar, mutatis mutandis, for 
your sister.  I'll rewrite it and send it to you.  Are you going 
to call Dawn?  I can probably find the phone number if so."

"I'd bet it's on that index card sticking out of the book you're 
holding."

"You'd win."


The end
RTFM
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
2004/07/30

Thanks to Neneh for editing this. 

For another story concerning an affair:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/story/moving.htm
"Moving Experience"

The index to all my stories currently available:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm

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