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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} World Beneath by Rachael Ross (FM+/f, Fantasy, Mast, Oral, Vamp)
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Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2007 00:10:02 -0400
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The World Beneath

Copyright 2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults
only.
Story Codes: MF+/f, Fantasy, Rom, Mast, Oral, Blood (vampirism)

Author's Note: I started this as 'Teacher's Pet' but it evolved into
something else. I'm not sure where it's going, but at 5k words, it
seemed like a good place to stop and take a look around. I'm wondering
how far I can go with this. -rr

I have used excerpts from works by Mary Shelly, Coleridge, and
Wordsworth without reimbursement to the authors for reasons which
should be obvious. (they're quite dead, I assure you)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The World Beneath
by rache

Chapter One - Hidden Doors


I was the girl in the back row. The one nobody ever talked to because
she was weird. That had happened when I turned 14 or so and I'd been
trying to figure out who and what I was. Now I was 16 and I had a
pretty good idea. I'd dyed my long blonde hair black, painted my face
white, and decided I worshipped death. Not exactly a great idea if you
lived in Rochester, Minnesota, a town that had never been on the
cutting edge of cultural evolution.

I went to Mayo High School, named after the Mayo brothers, like every
freakin thing else in the city. It was big and round and it had its
own planetarium. I hated it. I liked school, I liked learning and I'd
always been good at it, but I hated high school with a passion. And
the feeling was mutual.

"Halloween already?" Some guy said as I walked past, and his friends
laughed. I'd heard that same line 30 times already and it was barely
ten in the morning.

Girls whispered and giggled, guys just stared and laughed. Nobody
liked me, not even the people who used to be my friends. The girls I'd
gone to junior high with, and even elementary school. Rochester was
big, but it wasn't that big yet. Everybody still knew everybody and
that made it worse.

The only class I liked, and the school year had just started a week
before so this was subjective, was my English class. Most of the
teachers were afraid of me, I think. I walked around like a vampire,
dressed like a corpse, not talking...Some of them were sure I was going
to pull an Uzi out of my purse one of those days. Not a funny thought
in this day and age, and I'm not joking.

On this particular day I was wearing a wedding dress, well part of a
wedding dress anyway, that I'd stripped down and hand sewn myself. It
had been hanging in the Salvation Army thrift shop, the one down by
Silver Lake, and I'd pulled the train and hemmed the skirt up to mid-
thigh, and dyed it black as midnight too. It was tight around my tummy
and the bustier was wired to push my breasts up, making them appear
plump and full and in your face. I'd ripped the sleeves away and worn
it with black velvet gloves, the sort that reach past the elbows. Some
black fishnet stockings and a pair of leather ankle boots completed
the package.

It was guaranteed to get me sent to the office at least twice, I
figured.

I had my hair long and straight and parted in the middle. My blue eyes
were hidden in deep wells of mascara and I'd painted my lips blood
red. I had a garnet stud in my nose and I sincerely wished I had
fangs. This was a big day, I was going to do a dramatic reading for
the class.

Everyone got a turn, proceeding day by day in alphabetical order. It
was the teacher's idea and I liked it. I'm not sure if he used it to
introduce us to each other, or merely to find out what we were
interested in, but I enjoyed it. I liked seeing my classmates get up
to stand in front of the class, all nervous and alone, reading some
passage that they'd chosen for their own private reasons. Sometimes
they were interesting, like the girl who'd read from Gibran's 'The
Prophet' but then again, there was the guy who'd read the lyrics to an
Eminem song.

My turn came early, after just a week since my name is Jenna Dark. It
had been Jennifer for years and years, but I was Jenna now. I wouldn't
have changed my last name for a million dollars though. It was perfect
even if those less imaginative people called me "Joanne" like I was a
character in a videogame. I hated video games.

"Jenna? Are you ready?" Mr. Raines asked, standing in front of the 34
kids in his class with his hands up.

"Yeah." I nodded from the back row.

There were the usual giggles as I grabbed my book and walked up to the
front, but I ignored it and Mr. Raines gave them a warning look. He
smiled at me, the way he always did, and I appreciated that. He was
the one person in that whole school I liked.

"What are you giving us, Miss Dark?" He asked me.

"Shelly." I held up the book, a thin well worn paperback so he could
see the cover.

"Frankenstein!" Some guy announced for everyone and that got a laugh,
as it should have I suppose.

"Oughta read Dracula." Someone else suggested and Mr. Raines had to
hold up his hands for quiet.

"Go ahead, Jenna." He told me and I nodded.

I didn't bother opening the book, I knew the passage by heart. I
closed my eyes, reciting from the book for three minutes. My voice
began soft and gentle, my body slouched and awkward as I stood there,
but by then end I was upright and defiant. My eyes were open and I was
staring at the class, challenging them to refuse me justice.

"...You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your
duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of
mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and
you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until
it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends."

I stood there for a moment, biting my bottom lip and blinking. I'd
almost forgotten where I was. I'd imagined myself on that ship, in the
winter waters of the arctic, the very end of the world.

"Very good, Jenna." Mr. Raines was smiling at me and nodding. "Very,
very good."

"Thank you." I said softly, dipping my head and going back to my seat.

"And perfect timing too." Mr. Raines followed me with his eyes and
when I was sitting down he turned to his whiteboard, writing in big
red letters. "We're going to discuss horror and what makes fear
necessary to our well-being..."

It was a good class and I was excited about it. I'd wondered where Mr.
Raines was going to take us and I feared the worst, 'Catcher in the
Rye' or 'Tom Sawyer' the usual tedious works of literature. Horror
would be so much more interesting and I listened with rapt attention
as Mr. Raines discussed the things we would read and discuss and think
about over the course of the semester.

"Jenna, would you mind staying for a moment?" Mr. Raines caught me by
the door, the last one out as usual.

"Sure." I shrugged, resigning myself to the first lecture of the day
on proper school attire. But he surprised me.

"Your reading this morning was excellent." He told me and I smiled at
that. "I was wondering if you wouldn't do it again..."

"Read it again?" I didn't understand. "For the class you mean?"

"...for a small group of friends. Some people I know, sort of a small
literary club I belong to." He was smiling. "We meet tonight, at the
Presbyterian Church across from the Plummer building; you know which
one I mean?"

"Downtown? Yeah." I nodded.

"We'd love to have you, Jenna. One of our members, Sylvia, will be
reading from Dracula tonight, and I think you'd enjoy it."

"Umm, I guess." I shrugged. This was really unexpected. I hadn't been
asked to join anything in a long time. "What time?"

"It's a little late, I'm afraid." Mr. Raines looked apologetic. "Ten
PM is when we start and sometimes it can go until morning...Is that
okay?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Sure, it's okay."

"Good." Mr. Raines nodded. "We'll see you then, Jenna."

I spent much of the day thinking about that invitation. It had sounded
a little strange maybe, but not too much. One thing about Rochester,
being the home of the Mayo Clinic and all, was that there were an
awful lot of smart people running around from a lot of different
places. A literary club sounded completely reasonable to me anyway. I
knew they had them in cities like New York and Chicago, so why not
here? It was exciting to think of myself as a part of something and
something I suspected to be much more 'adult' than the high school
French Club, for example.

I wanted to grow up and to do it fast. There were a lot of reasons for
that, not least of which was the alienation I felt from my peers. But
there were other reasons too, like my mom.

She was an alcoholic and a part-time waitress at a bowling alley. She
didn't cook or clean and she didn't give a good goddamn what I did
with my life. I thought she was just about the stupidest person on
earth and I seriously doubted that I could have ever sprung from her
prosaic womb. She was the reason I had no friends. How could I ever
invite someone to my house?  It was embarrassing and I hated her.

"Mom! Jesus..." Their were cockroaches on the kitchen table where she'd
left a half-eaten plate of Spaghetti-O's sitting since breakfast. The
woman herself was sleeping on the couch, wearing just her panties,
looking like an ashen corpse.

I didn't bother waking her, or even turning off the television. I just
went to my room, my haven. It was clean and neat and I locked the door
behind me. I turned on my little stereo, listening to 'Pictures of
You' by the Cure and I flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I had books, all kinds of books, and I'd read every one of them. I had
a little computer and internet, gifts from my father, whoever he was.
Some guy who sent me money every month and the occasional gift to show
he cared. I had clothes and posters on the walls, and a little fish
named Hullabaloo. I had my own little world.

"Mr. Raines...Mr. Raines..." I said to myself, thinking about him.

He was an ugly man, not handsome at all. But smart, very smart and it
wasn't offensive the way intelligence is with some people. He was just
smart and it came out in his speech, in his subjects and presentation.
I liked listening to him. He was interesting and that made him
attractive to me on some level.

It wasn't his fault he looked like a troll. He was rather short and
round, almost but not quite fat, with bristling black hair on his
head, thinning and weak. He had small a round face and his cheeks
dimpled when he smiled. His hands were big, with thick sausage fingers
and hairy knuckles. He had big feet too, much too big for his height.
The eyes though. Mr. Raines had dark eyes, and intense. They weren't
weak at all, they were intelligent and challenging and they belonged
to someone taller. Someone with better hair and muscles and warm soft
hands to caress me...

I was masturbating, thinking about Mr. Raines and transforming him as
I became more and more aroused. This had become my daily ritual, my
after-school special. I'd only recently learned how to do it and I was
getting it down perfectly. I didn't even take off my clothes; I just
bunched up my chopped wedding dress, and pulled my panties down. I
loved masturbation.

I'd been learning to shave my pussy too and I ran my fingers through
the thin strip of pubic hair I'd left myself with. It was golden
blonde, the way the hair on my head had been, and I thought about
dying it black as well, but sometimes I liked the contrast when I
stood in front of the mirror naked.

In my mind Mr. Raines had become someone else and I'd forgotten all
about him. I was being kissed and fondled by someone closer to a Greek
God than a man. Brad Pitt in 'Troy' was holding me in his arms and I
rubbed my clit faster. He was going to make me cum, just by looking in
my eyes. He knew I was a virgin and he was going to do something about
that...Oh yes...I was moaning and I put a finger inside, just the tip, so
that I felt the sharp edge of my fingernail against my hymen. Teasing
myself and finally giving me my orgasm as I resisted the urge to break
through that thin wall of modesty.

I'd fallen asleep and my mom had gotten up for work evidently, since
she was gone. I showered and looked around the kitchen, but finding
something to eat was a chore in itself and I decided I'd just get a
burrito or something at the Seven-Eleven down the street. I had a few
hours until it was time to be at that old church anyway and I spent
much of it getting dressed.

I can't say I was the only Goth in Rochester, but I was beyond Goth
really. The others were more like insta-goths, you know? Just go to
the mall, pick out something black, add some fishnet, get an extra
piercing or two in your ears and voila! I detested those people. I
lived it every minute of every day. It wasn't just a fashion
statement, it was who I was.

My world was perpetual twilight, neither light or dark, but somewhere
in the middle. With ghosts and angels and demons. I believed it. They
lurked in the world around us, I was sure. There were vampires too and
nameless beasts from the void, hungry for our flesh. I could see it in
the news, in the books I read, and in the people I passed every day on
the street. There was a world beneath our own, hidden as a well kept
secret, and I was looking for the door.

That I'd never actually seen an angel, or demon, or vampire was hardly
the point. I'd seen the proof of their existence. When Robert Louis
Stephenson wrote Dr. Jeckyl he had poured it out in one sitting. For
two days and nights he wrote feverishly in longhand and when finished,
he was so horrified at what he'd written, Stephenson had thrown his
manuscript into the fire. Only the quick action of his wife saved the
novel from complete destruction. As it was, Stephenson immediately
rewrote verbatim those parts which had been lost and then fell into
his bed for a week, exhausted by what he called his 'ordeal'.

There are demons.

I wore crimson, which was the only color in my closet besides black. A
red vinyl skirt with a sheer black top and a red bra beneath that. It
was provocative, especially for a 16 year old, but I felt challenged
by this invitation and I wanted there to be no mistaking who I was. It
was my subconscious philosophy that the best defense was a good
offense, I suppose. I had very little with which to protect myself, so
I used my appearance. The same fishnet stockings and boots I'd worn
earlier and my purse was all I needed, that and a heavy leather trench
coat to keep out the chill Minnesota night.

My imagination kept me company as I made my way downtown. We lived
just past 11th avenue and 4th street southeast, near the big old
church of St. Francis. It was an old neighborhood and dark at night,
which suited me perfectly. I imagined that I was stalking the city,
looking for a victim. I was bad inside, corrupt and famished for
something pure. I was the angel of death, her heels clicking on the
pavement, hair billowing in the breeze. It was a good dream and the
blocks passed quickly.

The old church was constructed of limestone and great oak beams and
pillars. Surrounded by much larger, more modern buildings like the
Mayo Clinic just across the street, the church looked deceptively
small. It was actually the second church constructed on the site and
the original Presbyterian Church was much smaller and still standing,
but now only as a state historical site.

I'd never been inside the church, or any church for that matter,
except when I'd been baptized as a baby. I couldn't remember that, of
course, and my father had left soon after. My mother's interest in
religion didn't extend to anything beyond blaming God for her troubles
and so I'd avoided such things more from apathy than any conscious
decision on my part.

There was a side door, a basement entrance down some short steps and
that was where Mr. Raines was standing, waiting for me. I was glad of
that, boldly dressed or not, walking into a strange place to meet
people I didn't know was a little intimidating. Mr. Raines' smile put
me immediately at ease though.

"Jenna." He opened his arms as if to hug me, but he didn't. He was
just making the gesture and I smiled back at him.

"Hi." I said, holding myself with the trench coat wrapped around me.
It was September and the days were warm, but the nights were not.

"I'm glad you came. Come on, I'll introduce you, everyone's here." He
put a hand lightly on my back, guiding me down the steps. "They're
anxious to meet you."

"Okay." I just nodded, not knowing exactly what to say.

The basement of the place was usual; it had a small kitchen, some
bathrooms, and a couple classrooms. I guessed they used them for
Sunday School or something. I didn't see anyone, however, and we
headed for some stairs and went back up, this time into a much warmer
and traditional setting. It wasn't the church proper, more like a
large sitting room, red carpeted and wood paneled, with heavy wooden
furniture and even a piano. It looked like a study of some sort and I
wondered if all churches were like that.

There were a dozen people, including Mr. Raines, half of them men and
half women, standing in small knots of two or three. The room was lit
by candles mostly, which was nice, but rather odd seeming as there
were table lamps and wall fixtures all around. It made for a intimate
ambiance however, and I liked it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Jennifer Dark." Mr. Raines announced a
little theatrically and I felt a warm flush of embarrassment as we
stood there in the entryway of that large room.

"Hi." I said, feeling very small suddenly as everyone turned to look
at me.

"Hello." A woman, younger than most of the others, stepped forward and
held out her hand. "I'm Sylvia."

"Your prize pupil, eh?" A man said, smiling at Mr. Raines.

"She is a prize." A woman said. "Can I take your coat?" She was Asian
and I had no idea if she was young or old, only that she was
beautiful.

"Sure." I nodded and relaxed a little, letting her help get it off my
shoulders.

"That's an interesting outfit." A man said. He was tall, handsome with
long black hair and an infectious smile. "I'm your Valentine."

"My Valentine?" I was confused..

"Oh Val, knock it off." The Asian woman said. "His name is Valentine,
he uses that line with everyone, believe me." She rolled her eyes.
"I'm Julia. I'm going to put your coat right over here, okay?"

I met them all, Thomas, Christine, David and Samantha and Wendy and
Mona. Paula, Steve, and of course Mr. Raines, whose first name turned
out to be Edward. They were nice and friendly without exception and if
I shocked them with my appearance they didn't show it. If anything
they seemed to like the way I looked, a few of them plainly amused,
and the others complimenting me.

"Edward told us you were smart, but he didn't say how pretty you are."
Sylvia was telling me.

I just smiled at that as I had very little experience with genuine
compliments and she plainly meant it. Sylvia herself was attractive,
as were all of the women present, and my only complaint was that I
felt very much like a child compared to them. They were dressed nicely
and evidently professionals in one capacity or another. All of them
single as well, or at least I assumed so as I didn't see any wedding
rings on their hands.

For their part the men ranged from Valentine, who was just about the
most handsome man I'd ever seen up close in person, to Edward, who was
rather less attractive as I've already explained. The others fell in
the middle, each of them interesting in their own ways however, and as
people moved in and out of my orbit, I found myself engaged in a
variety of stimulating conversations.

It was quite strange to be so alone for so long, having nothing to say
and no one to say it to, and now suddenly to find myself able to
discuss the things that interested me with interesting people. Being a
literary club, that was largely the topic, although many other
subjects came up as well. I'd considered myself pretty well-read, but
now I was getting a real lesson in what literature was all about.
Everything from Shakespeare to Poe to the Bible was open for
discussion and while I tried to listen, my new friends often pressed
me for opinions that I was reluctant to give.

But I had my moments, I'm pleased to say.

"...who was it that said 'He was a being formed in the very poetry of
nature'...?" One of them men, David, who was perhaps 35 and a physician,
was asking Christine and when she had no quick reply, I swallowed hard
and answered for her.

"Mary Shelly." I offered. "It's from Frankenstein."

"Really?" Christine, a smallish women with odd, almost elfin features
to my eye, smiled at me.

"She said the monster was formed of poetry?" Valentine was standing
close and he looked doubtful, as if I might be mistaken.

"Oh no." I shook my head. "Victor was describing Clerval, his best
friend. He quotes Wordsworth in Victor's remembrance of Clerval..." I
closed my eyes briefly, wanting to remember it accurately. "...Um, The
sounding cataract Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock, The
mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms
were then to him an appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need
of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrow'd
from the eye."

Some of the people clapped, much to my embarrassment, and they were
all smiling. I was very pleased with myself and I felt swollen with
pride.

"Well, done, Jennifer." Julia kissed me on the cheek and I blushed.
"Very nice."

"Wordsworth." Thomas shook his head, smiling at Mr. Raines. "Imagine
that."

"Here, drink this." Sylvia was handing me a glass of red wine and I
accepted it without thinking. Everyone seemed to have a glass suddenly
and the room grew warmer as I drank it too quickly, but my nerves were
frayed and the wine seemed exactly what I needed.

Reading in front of a class full of high school kids was one thing;
pulling a bit of poetry out of memory in front of people who knew a
little something about it was something else altogether.

I had two glasses I think, or perhaps three. It seemed as if every
time I'd get near the bottom someone would take it away and give me a
new one.

"Come here, sit with me..." Julia was pulling me away from Thomas and I
did need to sit. I was feeling a little dizzy from the wine and rather
giddy from all the attention I'd been getting as well.

I sat between Julia on my left and Christine on my right, close
together on a plush sofa. Everyone else was on the other side of the
room and the distance gave us some small sense of privacy.

"Doubtless this could not be, but that she turns..." Christine was
talking to me, whispering in my ear. "Bodies to spirit by sublimation
strange..."

"What?" I turned my head slightly, as if I might look at her, but
Julia caught my chin in her gentle hand and turned me away, towards
her.

"As fire converts to fire the things it burns, As we our food into our
nature change..." Christine's voice was soft and I felt the tip of her
tongue across my ear.

Julia kissed me then, her mouth open and opening mine with her tongue.
I was too shocked to understand, too surprised to resist. I'd never
kissed anyone before, certainly not another girl. My body went stiff
and I felt Christine's hands on me, soothing and stroking me as she
kissed and then covered my ear with her warm mouth.

I might have resisted, or perhaps not, it's difficult to recall. I
felt small and powerless and Julia didn't release me, her kiss
continued and I found myself responding. I'd forgotten that we weren't
alone. I was being kissed and it was beyond my experience. I was dimly
aware of Christine moving her mouth along my neck, kissing and biting
softly at my skin. Her hands were on my body, on my breasts, squeezing
and pressing. I knew they were Christine's because Julia held my head,
keeping me from pulling away from her.

"You've been lonely, haven't you?" Julia asked me after a moment.

I was breathless and hot and my lips felt bruised. I nodded, looking
into her eyes and shivering as I felt Christine's mouth on my neck.

"You're not alone anymore." Christine's voice was like a shadow
falling over my ear and I felt her teeth on my earlobe, biting it
gently so that I tilted my head slightly. "No one understands..."

"...But we do, Jennifer." Julia continued the thought and then she was
kissing me again and this time I responded.

I kissed her back, letting myself enjoy this new sensation, this new
sense of being loved, of belonging to someone, to some thing, greater
than myself.

I was dimly aware of Christine tearing the thin nylon of my blouse,
her hands pressing against my tummy so that I arched my back for her
touch. She was beneath my bra, freeing my breasts and then kissing
them, hunched over and taking my hard nipples into her warm sucking
mouth. I had my arm around her shoulders, squeezing her, while the
other held Julia even as the woman held me.

Someone else was there, pressing my thighs open, and I felt more
kisses at the tops of my stockings, working higher towards my weakly
covered sex. I glanced down, breaking Julia's kiss, and saw it was
Wendy. She was dark and lithe and lovely and kneeling on the floor,
her tongue caressing the soft hollows of my thighs.

"What am I doing?" I whispered. The room was spinning. I felt drunk
and crazed and my body was moving as if played upon strings like a
marionette.

"Whatever you want to." Christine whispered and I felt her teeth in my
flesh. She bit my breast hard and I jerked against the pain, staring
at her in the flickering candlelight. Blood ran down my skin, beneath
her lips and I watched it dumbly.

"We'll make you one of us." Julia whispered, pulling my mouth to hers
with her strong gentle hand. "We'll make you perfect." She promised
and kissed me as I jerked hard in her grasp.

Wendy bit me on the thigh, near my pussy, and I didn't need to see it
to know she'd drawn blood as well. I could feel it cold and wet on my
flushed skin, and her mouth working the small wound, drawing that
trickle of life out of me. My body burned with excitement, there was
no fear and the confusion was welcome, like a carnival of delight. I
felt as if I was having an orgasm, but it was more than sexual. It was
something else, something indescribable.

Julia took my bottom lip between her teeth, biting it as well, so that
pain lanced through the pleasure and I tasted blood. She kissed me,
sucking my injured lip and working my blood between our mouths. Our
tongues bathed in it and I drank myself, mixed with Julia's saliva,
swallowing it gratefully and begging for more with every soft moan
that escaped my aching lungs.

All three women nursed on my body, on the small wounds they'd created,
and their mouths and hands would roam my body at will. Wendy had torn
at my panties with her teeth and nails, revealing my virgin sex and
she kissed me there, making me gasp, then moved to bite my opposite
thigh, creating another small wound even as Christine opened my other
breast with her sharp teeth. They used their hands, smearing my blood
across my pale skin, painting me with it so that I felt damp and
sticky as it dried.

My tongue had moved over Julia's teeth and I felt her canine teeth,
long and sharp like needles and she closed her mouth around me,
piercing my tongue and filling her mouth with my blood. My tongue was
swimming in it and when she opened herself once more, pushing our
tongues back into my mouth, the wetness seemed to pour between our
lips, running down our chins and necks while we kissed with renewed
urgency.

I was oblivious to the pain, or if not that, I welcomed it. I savored
the flavor of my life and welcomed the sharp discomfort of their
kisses. These three women bit me over and over while I sat there,
opening my body so that I soon had a dozen cuts or more. My clothes
were ragged and I was trembling with excitement. My sex clasped the
void within it, begging to be filled. My wounded nipples burned for
more of Christine's dark affections. My lips burned and bled for
Julia, our faces turned dark and wet.

What questions I had were lost and meaningless. I wondered if I were
dying, if they intended to open my body complete and consume me
utterly. I wouldn't have resisted at that moment. I was in their
power, in thrall of something greater than myself. This was what I'd
long for and so often imagined in my dreams. These were dark and
selfish creatures, angels and demons in human form, feeding on me and
the idea was a secret thrill in the depths of my soul.

=-=-=-=-=

end of part one

rache696@yahoo.com
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm

Note: This is the first chapter of a multi-part story which is in
progress as of this posting. If you have feedback, comments or
suggestions, I welcome them as always, but I regret that I may not
always be able to respond in a timely manner. I will post the next
chapter as it becomes available. -rr April 17, 2007

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