index


Message-ID: <56017asstr$1181088601@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Rod OSteele <rod.osteele@yahoo.com>
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} The Wish 3 of 3 (MF fant)
Lines: 529
Date: Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:10:01 -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


Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright 2007 with all
rights reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial
re-posts to ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright
information remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author
please do not delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are
authorized.

   The author relishes your comments at rod.osteele (at) yahoo (dot) com.
If you like this story, see my other stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/osteele/www.

   WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and
women, or women and women.  Some of the participants in the story may be
under the age of 18.  If you are too young to read about sex please do not
read this.  The law says you teens should remain in ignorance of the thing
you think about the most.  If that makes sense to you please write and tell
me how it does because it sounds just insane to me.



   The Wish



   Part III



   I woke up in the morning cuddling a cold crystal statue.  I kissed her
anyway before returning her to the mantel.  I wondered if all those women
inside her talked among themselves, waiting for the next time they would be
called forth.

   It was getting near lunch and I had been working all morning on a
particularly involved article.  I decided I needed a complete break.  I
pulled out my folder of pictures and found one of Petra in a nice dress.

   I got the statue and the picture and called her.  She grew in my hand
until she was standing beside me in all her beauty.  "Hello, Michael," she
said.

   "Lunch," I told her.

   "Wonderful," she said as she put her arm through mine and we were off.

   I grabbed a cab and went off to a sidewalk café I knew.  It was glorious
spring weather, just warm enough to be comfortable outside.  After we were
finished with lunch, I asked her, "How much do you remember of the past
times we've been together?"

   She looked puzzled, trying to see.  "Not much.  It is like a haze, I
don't see details but I know things, like your name." she came back and
looked across the table.  "Is it like that for you?"

   "No, I remember details very well of every time we've been together."

   She smiled, "So you like the times together?"

   "Very much," I said taking her hand in mine.  She gave me a glorious
sunny smile which made the spring around us seem dim by comparison.  The
sun shone in her hair.  The sky was a pale reflection of the blue of her
eyes.  I think I was falling in love with a dream.

   That's when Petra's eyes opened wide looking at something behind me.  I
jerked my head around to see...  Petra Nemcova and some guy walking down
the sidewalk and it was too late to run and hide.  They both jerked to a
halt beside our table.  They looked at each other and back at Petra sitting
down with me.

   "What the hell?" the man said.

   "Plastic surgery?" the real Petra asked.

   "I don't think so," the man answered.

   "This is too weird," Petra said.

   I had to agree and I wanted to get out of there.  I tossed a bunch of
money on the table, grabbed `Petra's' hand, and tried to make a getaway.

   The real Petra came out of her daze and grabbed my arm.  "Wait a
minute."

   "Gotta go.  Sorry," I said.

   "I'll call the police," she said.

   That stopped me.  I had already hailed a cab and it was pulling up.  She
had pulled a phone from her purse and was looking at the cab number.  "I'll
explain, but not here.  Come on," I said.  I pushed `Petra' into the cab.
Petra followed me and the guy got into the front.

   I told the driver my address and he pulled out.  The guy in the front
seat was turned around, his eyes going back and forth, back and forth. 
Petra and Petra were looking at each other.  I knew I was screwed, and not
in a good way.  The driver looked back in the mirror and I saw him gasp.

   "Pay attention to the road," I yelled as he nearly ran into a car in
front of us.  His eyes popped back and he honked as he flipped off the
other driver.  I swear to God, hacks in New York have three hands; one to
honk, one to flip the bird, and one on the wheel.  They always seem to be
doing all three.

   I extended my hand to the man, "Mike O'Hara.  Glad to meet you."

   "Rob Shuter.  I'm Petra's publicity agent."

   Petra leaned forward, "And who are you?" to `Petra.'

   "At the apartment," I said.

   She settled back, obviously unhappy.

   How was I going to get out of this one?  I really didn't know.

   It was eerily silent as we went up the elevator.  Once in my place,
Petra put her hands on her hips and demanded, "Okay, now tell me who the
heck is she."

   "Rob, Ms.  Nemcova, please have a seat," I said and waited.  They both
sat on the couch.  I scratched my head but nothing good came of it.  I
finally decided to go with some truth.  "She's you."

   "Mr.  O'Hara," Rob said plainly put out.  "This is Petra.  Who's that?"

   "Petra Nemcova.  Wait!" I yelled to stop the two of them as they just
about jumped from the sofa.  I went over and got the photo.  "This is you."


   Petra nodded.  "I remember the shoot."

   I pointed at `Petra.' "It is also her."

   "You made her up to look like the photo?" Rob asked, obviously
considering me a pervert and probably dangerous as I was playing dress up
dolls with real women.

   "No, it is her.  Not made up.  Her, from the photo," I said.

   "No way," Petra stormed off the sofa.  "Turn around." Clothes at model
shoots are usually made for the model, or are fitted right then.  It means
that they don't have things like tags.  It also means they usually have
stitches and tucks, to make them fit right for the camera, that normal
clothes don't have.  Petra pulled the back of the dress.  No tags.  She
pulled up the hem to see the stitches crudely done for her size.  "That is
the dress I wore for the shoot.  Where did you get it?" She was puzzled
now.

   "It came with her, from the photo," I said.  I looked at `Petra.' "Who
are you?"

   "Petra Nemcova."

   Petra and Rob looked at each other.  "I don't understand..."

   "Petra," I said to my dream girl.  "Could you get us wine and four
glasses?  It's in the fridge."

   After pouring, I started explaining.  "Don't ask me how, but somehow,
from a photo, I got Petra to appear just like she was.  What was the last
thing you remember before you showed up here?"

   "I was at the photo shoot.  He took a snap, and bam, I'm standing here,"
`Petra' said.

   I turned to the other two.  "Don't ask how because I don't really know
how."

   "Call another person...  um, Elle," Rob demanded.

   "I can't.  I can only do one at a time," I said.

   Petra shook her head, "Where are the cameras.  This has got to be the
Twilight Zone.  Is this the first time you've called me, I mean her?"

   "Uh, no," I said.  "I uh, took you to a cocktail party where I work. 
Which actually brings up a good point..."

   "You took ME to a cocktail party?" She asked incredulous.

   "About the point, the magazine wanted me to ask you to do a photo
shoot," I continued.

   "What party?" Petra asked.

   "What photo shoot?" Rob asked, his business antenna twitching.

   "It's a food magazine.  They want to do one of those dinner party
spreads," I said.

   Rob nodded, "I've seen them."

   Petra jumped in, "And did they want you to tell me?"

   "They think I am your boyfriend.  You see, when you are her, you are my
dream girl and..."

   "BOYFRIEND!" Petra screamed.

   Rob pattered her on the arm and pulled down back by him on the sofa. 
"Let's find out about the photo shoot, then you can yell."

   Petra looked back and forth.  "Dream girl.  She acts like your
girlfriend.  That's some nerve."

   "Oh come on, Petra.  After you did that SI spread there are a 100
million guys on five continents who would just love to take you to a party
on their arm," I said.  "I just got lucky."

   She did smile at that.  "Okay, grant you that.  Speaking of lucky, how
much of a girlfriend is she?"

   That was an ugly question.  How do you tell a woman, `Yeah, we've had
sex, you just weren't there?'

   Petra turned to `Petra.' "Did you have sex?"

   "No, we just went to lunch," she answered.

   "The previous times?"

   Dream Petra looked off, "I don't remember...  No.  Oh and the lunches. I
can eat anything and it never stays.  Goes right away.  Dessert.  I ate two
desserts.  No calories.""

   I caught the subtle difference and what she actually meant glad she had
changed the subject to food.

   But the real Petra seemed satisfied, "Good."

   Rob broke in, "About the shoot."

   "I expect Lillian will want me to work out a special deal..." I started.

   "Because I'm your girlfriend," Petra sneered.

   "Former.  I told her we had a fight and you left," I said.

   Petra got a horrified look on her face.  "So, she thinks I'm some kind
of..."

   "No, no.  She thinks it was my fault.  I couldn't tell her I could bring
you to a shoot when I didn't even know you," I said.

   "So you lied," Petra accused.

   "Yep.  I can't deny it.  I did it.  It was either that or try to explain
and get dragged away in a strait jacket.  Hell, you've seen her, I mean
you, and you don't believe me."

   Ron looked bemused.  "How long will she be here?"

   "Not long.  She never stays very long.  Enough for lunch or cocktails,
something like that." I thought leaving out the evening part best for
business relations at the moment.  Oh, and my hide as well.

   Petra on the couch suddenly broke into Czech.  They went back and forth.
I looked at Rob who obviously understood about as much as I did.  They went
on for a few minutes.  Petra on the couch looked shocked.  "She is me."

   I looked at my Petra.  "What?"

   She answered, "She asked me things, like my first kiss and the name of
my first doll, and some other things..." she said blushing.

   Petra said, "She knew them all.  I never told anyone some of those
things."

   "When she comes, she comes knowing exactly what she knew at the moment
of the photo.  Ask something that has happened since the photo shoot.  She
won't know it," I said.

   Some more Czech.  Petra turned to me.  "It is me, back then.  Can you
call me up as a little girl?"

   "Maybe, if I had a picture," I said.

   Petra looked intense.  "You could bring back real people..."

   "No way.  They didn't wash back then.  I had to open the windows in the
whole place.  And they don't speak English, at least modern English."

   "Who?" Petra asked.

   "Marie Antoinette," I said.

   "Always women," she wagged her finger at me accusingly.

   How could I explain that the statue was of a woman?  I didn't want to
admit her existence.  Maybe they'd try and steal her.  I was already doing
a Dobbsy in my head.

   Petra shook her head, "I'm not sure what to think."

   "Think about the photo shoot for the magazine," I suggested.

   She laughed.  "You and Rob, always business.  I find I have two of me
and you two think of business."

   "She's not really you," I said.  "She's my dream.  She'll be gone soon
and you'll still be here."

   Ron stood and handed me his card.  "Call me."

   He pulled Petra up from the couch.  "We do have an appointment."

   "Yes." She turned to me.  "Promise me something.  Promise me you won't
call me anymore."

   "I promise," I said.

   She blushed.  "Thank you.  I would not be comfortable knowing that I was
maybe someplace and I didn't know it."

   I walked them down to the street while Rob hailed a cab.  As she got in
the cab she said, "This has been a most unusual day."

   "It has." I said.  I watched them until the cabbie turned and sped away.

   When I got back up to my place, the statue was standing in the middle of
the floor.  Apparently, when I left, it broke whatever bonds held her. 
Normally she disappeared sometime after I went to sleep.  I set her back up
on the mantel.  Would I keep my promise?  Now that I had met the real Petra
I was even more in love with her.

   *****

   I called Rob the next day.  After pleasantries he said, "She'll do the
shoot, but you have to be her boyfriend for it."

   "Why me?" I asked.

   "Not sure.  I think she's got plans for you pretending she was your
girlfriend.  Payback, my friend.  She's not evil, but she is a woman," he
said.

   "That's not good," I said.  "How much is she going to make it hurt?"

   He laughed.  "Not much.  Maybe just a little red-faced with your boss,
if I had to guess."

   "Oh well.  I'll make plenty writing the article anyway.  Won't be the
first time I've been red-faced in front of my boss," I said.

   "Set up the shoot and have your tech people work through me," he said.

   I didn't see Petra, either version, until the day of the shoot.  It was
supposed to be a Halloween party for our October issue.  We supplied the
food and our in-house chefs prepared the menu.  It was all delivered right
to a rented flat that was supposed to be Petra's house, all designed by a
talented agent instead and to be carted away after the shoot.

   Everyone, besides me, were actually friends or working buddies of Petra.
They had a blast, great food, and good wine, everything done for them.  The
servers were provided by us.  The photographers were careful to have Petra
take a dish from the oven.  She `served' several of the plates, her friend
helped by pouring wine.  Most of the photos were of beautiful people
eating, drinking, talking, and having a good time.  I was her `sometime'
boyfriend and author of the article for the cameras and just one of the
extras to her friends.

   I kept waiting for the shoe to drop, for her to make some comment about
how I had never been her boyfriend.  It never came.  Instead, I actually
had a great time.  Her sense of humor and mine were really quite close, and
I had her laughing a lot in between photos.

   Petra had agreed to be the cover for the October issue and they had
brought a witch's costume and a vampire outfit for her to wear.  While
shooting the vampire, she got some fangs and grabbed me by the neck.  As
those teeth got close to my neck I actually started to worry about her
drawing blood.  She laughed at the stupid expression on my face as the
photographer congratulated me on how realistic the fear looked.  I just
hope that one doesn't make the cover.  Petra gave me a subtle smile,
relishing her bit of revenge.  I bowed slightly in acknowledgement.

   We had started around nine in the morning and the dinner party was done
around four.  After most everyone had cleared out, Lillian came up and said
to Petra, "Thank you, Ms.  Nemcova.  I know I wasn't at my best at the
cocktail party."

   Petra looked at me, "Oh yes, the cocktail party." She held my eye and I
knew she could burn me right then.  "The famous cocktail party with my
sometimes boyfriend."

   Lillian looked over at me and said in a low voice, but one I could hear,
"What you see in him..."

   Petra laughed, "Oh, he is full of surprises." They both laughed at my
expense.

   "Women," was all I could say, which just brought more laughter.

   As the last stragglers cleared out, Petra took my hand and we left. 
"So, Michael.  Is this where you take me back to your place?  Isn't that
what happens?"

   Blushing, I said, "Normally, yes."

   "Good," she said.  "Now I will see how these dates of yours are done.  I
will learn the truth, yes?"

   Not in a million years, I said to myself.  I should be so lucky.

   Back at my place I poured us both a glass of wine.  Petra curled up on
my couch, her shoes off.

   "Thank you for not embarrassing me.  I know you could have," I said.

   "Perhaps I should be contrite, but I did intend to.  You made me laugh
and I had a very good time with you.  I guess I forgave you for your
tricks," she said.  "Michael.  I must know the truth." I looked over at her
like a deer in the headlights.  "The other Petra, have you had sex with
her?"

   I blushed, and didn't deny it.

   "Well, I guess that is the answer.  And since we met, have you called
her back?"

   "No.  Absolutely not," I said firmly.

   "Have you not wanted to?" she asked.

   I hesitated before answering in a low voice.  "Yes, more than I can say.
I wanted to very much."

   "And why didn't you?" she asked.

   My chest felt heavy as I looked up.  I had to answer and yet it felt
like a weight I could not lift to answer.  "Because I had fallen in love
with you."

   She gasped.

   "Because I wanted the real you, not a fake.  I had met the real you and
a fake just wasn't good enough any more," I said looking away.

   "I did not expect that.  Oh my.  You think you love me?" she asked.  I
nodded.  She set her glass down.  "Michael, please call me a cab."

   I looked up, alarmed that I had angered her.

   "Relax, I am not angry.  Call a cab and I'll tell you," she said as she
slipped into her shoes.

   I had the doorman hail a cab and told him the lady would be right down.

   Petra touched my cheek.  "I had you call a cab because I am afraid if I
stayed, you wouldn't need your living doll."

   I thought she was about to kiss me.  Instead, she turned and left.

   Stunned, I tried to figure out exactly what it all meant.

   *****

   Two days later I was working on another article when the phone rang. 
Distracted, I picked up the phone, "Hello."

   "Michael?"

   "Petra?  Is that you?" I asked feverishly.

   Laughing, "Yes, Michael.  It is me.  Can I come over?"

   "Yes, of course.  Anytime," I said.  "When?"

   I could hear the smile in her voice.  "I will be about twenty minutes."

   "Wonderful," I said.

   "I will see you," she said hanging up.

   I burst into a flurry of cleaning.  I was barely finished when the bell
rang.  It really was her at the door.  I let her in, surprised and pleased
that she had come by.

   As I closed the door she came into my arms, "Kiss me."

   I did and it was sensuous, scintillating, and almost scandalous.  As we
broke apart, our faces reflecting each other's dreamy expression, we held
each other's eye.

   "Now I am sure," she said.  She pulled away and sat on the couch.  A
devilish smile on her face, she said.  "Now, I want to see what my other
half has seen.  Come on, off with your clothes."

   "Petra," I said shocked.

   "Come on, you've been naked with me before."

   "It's not the same thing," I protested.

   "Michael, you have seen me naked.  You said so.  Now, I get even.  Off
with them," she said pointing at my clothes.

   Trapped, I doffed my clothes.  I have never been as embarrassed,
standing there naked, as a super-model sat serenely on my couch
appreciating the show.

   Once I was naked, Petra smiled, "Not bad." She got up from the couch and
came into my arms.  "Now, show me everything that you do." And she kissed
me.  I took her in my arms and carried her into my bedroom.

   I was right.  It was very different.  Dreams are nice, but reality is
infinitely better.



   -------------------------------- Got a little couch potato?  Check out
fun summer activities for kids.

	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
	This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's
	Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP)
	system due to inadequate formatting.
	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

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