index


Message-ID: <53600asstr$1145412605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Mmtwassel@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} [deirdre fest] String by Mat Twassel (deirdre muse)
Lines: 391
Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2006 22:10:05 -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


deirdre muse - 
written for the 10th Anniversary deirdre festival
April 15-30, 2006










String
by Mat Twassel
============================================

"You've got a tail."

I turned around to see the prettiest girl 
smiling at me. She had bouncy blond hair and 
impish green eyes, and I hadn't a clue what 
she was talking about. For a moment I 
thought she meant she was the tail - that 
she'd followed me out of the little gift 
shop, which in fact she had. "Behind you," 
she said.

I peered over my shoulder. I didn't see 
anything out of the ordinary. Just the 
little gift shop on a quiet street at the 
edge of the college campus.

"A tail tail," she said. "On your behind." 
She reached around me, holding my eyes with 
hers. We were almost close enough to kiss.  
I felt the faintest pressure of her hand on 
the bottom of my bluejeans, and then 
nothing. She'd stepped back. She had a piece 
of string in her hands. Ordinary string 
tangled in a ball. She spent a moment 
straightening it out. It stretched two feet, 
maybe a little more.

Her eyes twinkled. "Were you fishing for 
something?" 

I didn't know what to say.

"Were you fishing for me?"

Now I really didn't know what to say.

She looped the string around my neck, and 
while knotting it, she said, "I wouldn't 
want you to lose your tail. I know all about 
string theory." 

"String theory?" I replied stupidly.

"Yeah, you know. Quarks, hadron anomalies, 
glueballs. Solves all the problems of the 
universe. All the physical problems, anyway. 
Come with me."

She tugged on the string, then let me free, 
and I followed her across campus. We didn't 
speak. A few late winter snowflakes hung in 
the air. She led me into an apartment 
building and up the steps.

At the door, she dug a key out of her jeans.  

"Do you even know who I am?" I said.

"Sure I do," she answered. The door clicked 
open. We stepped inside.

"You're Professor Baker. Assistant Professor 
Baker. My roomie has you for romantic 
poetry. Says you're really good. Says you're 
cute, too. Just a little underfed. I'm going 
to make you dinner. Grilled cheese okay?"

I watched her work at the stove. She toasted 
bread in a buttered iron skillet. "Is your 
roommate as ..." I trailed off.

"Beautiful and impetuous as me?" She 
laughed. She shredded cheese and sprinkled 
it on the pieces of bread. She adjusted the 
flame, pressed bare bread slices on top of 
the two already in the skillet, and after a 
few moments, she flipped both sandwiches 
with a spatula. I could see the melting 
cheese begin to ooze out the sides. Deftly 
she took the sandwiches from the skillet and 
put them onto a wide, white dinner plate.  

We sat at the small kitchen table, the 
perfectly browned grilled cheese sandwiches 
between us. 

"Go ahead, take a bite."

I did. Delicious.

"And you just happened to see me with the 
string?" I asked.

"You caught me," she said. "It was my string 
all along. I palmed it. Are you mad at me?"

I took another bite of the sandwich. Truly 
excellent. The best I'd ever tasted.

"Want some beer to go with?" she said. "I've 
got Guinness and plenty of it. Ice cold. In 
honor of St. Patrick's Day."

"Okay," I said.

She poured us each a glass. Above the dark 
brew, the foam rose up thick and tan. We sat 
there smiling at each other, and then I took 
another bite. She watched me eat. "Aren't 
you having any?" I asked. "Shouldn't we 
share and share alike?"

"I want you to have mine," she said. "Go on, 
gobble it up like a growing boy."

I couldn't resist. The sandwiches were so 
good. The beer, too. She poured us each 
another glass.

"Tell me about poetry," she said. "Tell me 
about quatrains and iambs and onomatopoeias, 
and I'll tell you about quarks and hadrons 
and glueballs."

We talked. I talked. Basic lecture stuff, 
but she seemed so pleased to be listening. 
We'd moved to the living room, and she sat 
on the sofa with her beautiful legs curled 
under her and her chin in her palm and her 
eyes on mine. Sometimes she'd take a sip of 
beer, and from time to time she'd fetch 
fresh bottles. All afternoon I recited 
Shakespeare, Wordsworth, and Keats. Outside 
her windows, the snow fell harder.  The 
darkness started to come. The snow in the 
silver glow of streetlamps was like the 
silent rain of a million tiny moths. 
Abruptly I switched to Yeats.

   Others because you did not keep 
   That deep-sworn vow have been friends of 
        mine; 
   Yet always when I look death in the face, 
   When I clamber to the heights of sleep, 
   Or when I grow excited with wine, 
   Suddenly I meet your face.

"That's beautiful," she said. "Show me what 
you got at the gift store."

"Didn't you see?" 

"Show me."

From my pocket I withdrew the small packet. 
I opened it, and into her palm I shook the 
pin-a small shamrock with petals of pale 
jade.

"It's beautiful," she said. "Is it for 
someone special?"

I nodded.

"Someone very special?"

I shrugged.

Her smile slipped momentarily into a frown. 
"Did you get a chain for it?"

"Oh. I didn't even think of that."

Her fingers went to my throat. I'd forgotten 
about my string. She unknotted it and 
slipped an end through the eyelet at the 
clover's stem. Then she retied the knot.
She grinned at me. "How's that?"

"Why don't you try it on?" I removed the 
makeshift necklace and set it over her head. 
She did something with her hair, and the 
necklace fell into place. 

"How does it look?" she asked.

I grinned at her.

"But really it should go inside," she said, 
and in a twinkling she'd dropped the jade 
shamrock inside her sweater.  "Mm," she 
said, "I think your special honey is going 
to like the way it tickles."

While I was trying to think of the right 
thing to say, she walked to the window. 
"Wow! It's really coming down. Practically a 
blizzard."

I stood beside her. "I guess I'd better be 
going before it's too late." 

"It's already too late."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't go. It's early."

"But I ..."

"You can sleep over! The couch is very 
comfy. You can tell me some more poems. You 
can have some more beer. Besides, I haven't 
explained string theory to you yet."

"You mean like quarks, and um hard-um."

"Yes, quarks and hardons and blueballs," she 
said. She laughed and tugged me down onto 
the couch next to her. "Quarks and hardons 
and blueballs," she repeated. "The basic 
forces of nature."  She kissed me. 

We kissed and kissed, and outside snow 
buried the world, and inside, kisses were 
the world.

But when I made a move for her body, she 
stopped me. "Naughty, naughty, Professor," 
she said. "Just kisses, no touching. 
Otherwise I'll have to tie you up."

"But I ..." I backed away.

"Don't be sad," she said. "You can kiss me. 
Just kiss me. Think of your sweetie, and 
kiss me."

I just kissed her, and I didn't think of 
anyone but her. I didn't think of anything 
but those kisses - in truth, I didn't think of 
anything - until at last she pulled away, and 
sighed deeply, and said, "Are you happy?"

"I don't want now to ever end," I said.

"You're sweet," she said. "Tell me one more 
poem, and then I'll tuck you in."

"I might be all poemed out."

"Please."

It wasn't fair. She had her hand on the 
front of my pants. The material stretched 
and strained against my want. Her fingers 
stroked slow, making the fabric or what was 
below tremble and quiver. She looked deep 
into my eyes. "One more poem and then beddy-
bye-baby," she said. Soft as snowfall her 
fingertips whispered to the material and 
what was beneath it. "Make it last," she 
said. "Make it last, and make it something 
sad and beautiful and true." Her fingers 
continued to stroke, but slower now, ever 
slower, until at last I managed to croak:

   With a most masterful voice,   
   That made the body seem as it were a string   
   Under a bow, he cried: "What happiness  
   Can lovers have that know their happiness   
   Must end at the dumb stone?

"That was nice," she said. She covered me up 
with a puffy quilt. "Sleep tight." She drew 
the shades, and the room was utterly dark. 



I dreamed of snow. The drifts covered me 
until I couldn't move. I opened my eyes, but 
I couldn't see. I tried to lift my legs, but 
a hopeless tangle prevented me.  A soft rope 
wrapped my wrists. Immobile, I lay on my 
back, in the dark, in the cold, waiting.

I felt her hair first. At first I thought it 
was her hair. The tip of it whispered to my 
thigh. It brushed back and forth, swaying 
lightly as it lightly sawed my skin - in the 
utter dark, in the utter quiet of the quiet 
night, the touch, too firm for hair, 
continued its play. Her nipple, I thought. 
How sweet. But not a nipple, I knew - it was 
the jade shamrock. And only then, once the 
thing was known, did I realize her lips were 
touching my stem. Warm and moist, they 
caressed my stalk on this side and that, 
around and around, kissing and nipping and 
nuzzling until the column rose silo huge, 
and the tongue traced a path around the 
upper rim and lapped the tender wedge and 
tickled the slippery slit. And then her 
whole mouth had me, had me deep and full, 
and while her mouth fucked my cock, in 
counterpoint the jade petals of the shamrock 
patted my inner thigh, tickling and prodding 
and poking me to the edge of an unbearable 
ecstasy. And over! I came quickly, 
violently, filling her mouth with hot juice, 
and still she sucked, slurping and 
swallowing, and still the jade shamrock 
rocked itself, now against the base of my 
balls, at once comforting and exciting. In a 
moment I was hard again, and in another 
moment I was coming again, jerking like a 
puppet on a string, shooting torrents of 
creamy spew into her hot mouth. When at last 
I was drained and calm, the little pendant 
dawdled a few moments more, then drew up my 
naked phallus and kissed it goodnight. The 
final twitch sent me shivering into an ocean 
of sweet oblivion. 

I awoke to an empty apartment.  I dressed 
quickly. I'd have to hurry to make my ten 
o'clock class. A blanket of snow covered the 
sidewalks, but the streets were clear. 
Careful of cars and buses, I made my way to 
campus, and I arrived at my classroom with a 
minute to spare. The students were still 
chatting. Some of them had yet to take their 
seats. One, a ruggedly handsome guy named 
Sean Cooper, strode up to me.

"Professor," he said.

I nodded. And I noticed, in the wide vee of 
his plain white shirt, attached to a simple 
string, the pale jade shamrock.

"Share and share alike, right, Professor?" 
He plucked the string, and the shamrock 
shivered. He grinned an infectious grin. 
"Deirdre says hi."


============================================
String
by Mat Twassel

comments welcome
mmtwassel@aol.com

Interested in an on-line erotica workshop?
Visit Desdmona's FishTank at Desdmona.com






 
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+