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Message-ID: <57625asstr$1210853401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.borked.net>
Reply-To: dcrimson@yahoo.com
Subject: {ASSM} New: Freefall (MF, cons) {Crimson Dragon}
Lines: 708
Date: Thu, 15 May 2008 08:10:01 -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

                                 Freefall

Synopsis:
   Kyria tumbles through a damp and dreary night until she meets a
   Dragon who gives her understanding of the chaos.

As usual, the following story may contain scenes of sexuality,
nudity, and adult situations. Viewer discretion is advised.

Big thanks to Denny, who puts up with my silliness, and proofs the
stories so wonderfully, making them the best they can be. And also,
of course, thanks to Munk, who reads the stories and supports me,
even when she doesn't fully understand my musings. More importantly
she puts up with *all* my silliness and has done so forever.

Feedback welcome at dcrimson@yahoo.com

  - Crimson
    (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www
http://members.tripod.com/files/Authors/Dr/wwwagon_Of_Crimson


========================================================================
                                 Freefall
========================================================================
                        (c) Copyright - April 2008
                              Crimson Dragon
                           All rights reserved
========================================================================

They had been friends since junior kindergarten, a simple result of
parents who had all chosen the same quiet street in a moderately
affluent subdivision. Proximity had melted them into one inseparable
clique, like three sparrows who believed themselves a flock.

Kyria, Heather and Rachel: brunette, blonde and redhead. The three
sisters; the three musketeers.

"All for one and one for all."

And the flock, the sisters, the musketeers would have remained
tightly together forever but for two girls and one man.

"... and all for two," simply didn't have the same cohesiveness.

                            <---===***===--->

Kyria stood trembling, hand raised, blue eyes flashing anger and
betrayal in the dim light of the basement.

Outside, dirty clouds churned through the sky, a dark cotton
ceiling. An apposite heaviness settled over the atmosphere,
promising sheets of cold rain. To the west, dry lightning flickered
through the overcast, too distant for thunder to reach their ears.

Rachel stood beside the dingy old couch where they'd all laughed and
played as friends since time began. Her head bowed, her crimson hair
shielding her face in shadow, she stood quietly, hands limp beside
her.

"I'm so sorry, Kyria," Rachel whispered to the floor.

Kyria stayed her raised right hand, her entire body shaking, though
she didn't know if the trembles were due to adrenaline, anger or the
sudden chill that had permeated the cellar where they stood.

Heather stood under the closest window, staring at Rachel and Kyria
as if in shock, unable to believe that the close-knit friends, the
three musketeers, the flock of sparrows might be exploding apart
like shards of glass shattered by a hurricane. Muted sunlight
shimmered across her blonde tresses, her hands wringing uselessly in
front of her.

"Kyria ..." Heather said quietly, somewhat surprised at the
stability of her voice.

"Keep out of this," Kyria said quietly without looking at her.

To the best of Heather's knowledge, Kyria had never spoken to any of
them with so much of a hint of danger in her voice. With a tiny cry,
Heather turned and fled the scene, her feet light on the stairs.
After a moment, Kyria heard the front door close quietly and then
there were only two of them. Through the entire exchange, Rachel had
not raised her face.

"I asked you to be my maid of honour," Kyria whispered.

Rachel didn't answer verbally, only a slight bob of her downcast
head acknowledging Kyria's words.

"You said 'yes'," Kyria said.

Rachel slowly raised her face, her dark eyes, beneath pools of
moisture, fixed on Kyria's face. Tears trickled unchecked down her
cheeks.

The tears reminded Kyria of times past. Better times. Grade 4.
They'd been nine years old, before boyfriends and fiances. The
largest betrayal imaginable had been speaking to Alicia, whom
everyone but Heather had instinctively hated. Rachel had fallen from
the monkey bars, and despite the soft sand cushioning her tumble,
she had broken her left wrist. Rachel had cried then as Kyria helped
her to the principal's office. Tears like rivers had flowed down a
nine year-old freckled face. Tears of pain. Tears like those before
her now.

It was surprisingly difficult to say the words. Not only because of
the profanity, of which Kyria normally avoided, but because of the
mentally superimposed image of a friend with a broken wrist, needing
support and help. She wondered if Rachel remembered the monkey bars.

But she had to say it, profane or not, welcome or not.

"You said 'yes', and then you fucked him ..." Kyria's voice broke
and she couldn't continue. Her entire body trembled again.

Rachel closed her eyes, more tears leaking from beneath her eyelids.

"I'm sorry, Ky. So sorry." Then Rachel paused, eyes closed, bracing.
"You can hit me if you like," she murmured.

Kyria rocked back and forth, wanting nothing more than to swing the
stinging slap at Rachel's wet cheek, to make her feel the same pain
that she felt, to make her hurt like she hurt. Something. Anything.

Slowly, her open hand dropped to her side.

Rachel opened her eyes, the dimness in the basement cloying and
close.

"You didn't hit me ..."

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Kyria whispered.

Without another word, she turned and approached the stairs, rising
through the gloom and walking to the front door. Behind her, she
could hear Rachel softly weeping.

When Rachel had broken her wrist, Kyria could feel the pain almost
as if she'd fallen from the top rungs with the red-haired girl, her
bones snapping with the ease of a pencil gripped with too much
force.

Oddly, Rachel's weeping below made her feel empty.

                            <---===***===--->

It was more of a mist than rain; the airborne moisture coated
everything it touched. Kyria's blouse, jeans, and runners absorbed
the dampness as she turned up a familiar driveway.

Without hesitation, she knocked lightly at the bright yellow-painted
door. It opened nearly instantaneously, as if Heather had been waiting
for her. Kyria stepped inside, out of the drizzle.

"Is everything all right?" Heather asked tentatively.

Actually, everything was not all right. Her world was curiously
empty. She should have been angry. She should have been a screaming
mess. She should have slapped Rachel. Instead, she'd come here.

"Sorry for being sharp with you earlier," Kyria offered with a thin
smile.

"Don't worry about it," Heather said. "I understand. Do you want to
come in?"

Kyria shook her head. Droplets of water fell from her hair.

"You still work part time at the pool, right?" Kyria asked softly.

"It's closed. Anwar closed up at six."

Kyria had no idea what time it was now, but judging by the failing
sunlight somewhere above the clouds, it was probably close to eight.

"You have a key?"

Heather nodded gravely.

"Can I borrow it?"

Heather cocked her head to the side and cast Kyria an appraising
look.

"I'll come to the pool with you." Heather began to open the closet
to hunt for her coat.

Kyria shook her head firmly.

"I need to be alone, babe."

"What are you going to do?"

"Swim. It's a pool."

"Kyria ..."

Kyria nodded carefully, expecting the answer. Betrayal came in many
forms.

"I understand," she whispered. Turning, she opened the door and
prepared to step out into the rain. A soft hand on her shoulder held
her back.

"I could lose my job," Heather said softly. "And it's not safe to
swim alone. At least let me come along. Make sure you're okay."

It was the lifeguard in her. Kyrie understood and didn't really
blame Heather.

"I need to be alone. Thanks, anyway," Kyria whispered.

Immediately upon crossing outside, the moisture coated her face like
the tears she had been unable to shed. The air smelled of wet grass.
She stepped down the steps slowly.

"Ky, wait!"

Kyria turned, her face uptilted, the mist billowing. Heather stood
in a pale blue wind breaker, shivering.

"Heather ..."

"I know. I know. You want to be alone." Heather held out her hand
and stepped forward. Kyria outstretched her own hand to touch
Heather's. With a sigh, Heather dropped a large square key into
Kyria's damp palm. An awkward silence stretched.

"I didn't know," Heather whispered.

But somewhere deep below Heather's eyes was a truth that was not
conveyed by her words. Kyria bit gently at her lower lip and said
nothing. The silence stretched, again.

"Please don't drown," Heather whispered.

Silently, Kyria turned away, then began to walk through the rain,
the key clutched tightly in her hand. Had their positions been
reversed, Kyria wasn't sure that she would have shared the key with
Heather.

She didn't know how, but she knew with the certainty that the sun
would rise tomorrow. As soon as Kyria walked around the bend in the
road, Heather would return to Rachel's house. There wasn't much
Heather could do, not alone, but it was what they'd always done.
There was no sense of betrayal in the knowledge, but rather an odd
comfort.

Kyria looked back. Heather watched her from the porch with sad eyes,
as if aware that the friendship that was, had been inexorably
altered by Rachel's admission. Heather waved once and Kyria raised
her hand.

Then she walked around the bend. The mist closed and the house with
the yellow door retreated behind her.

                            <---===***===--->

The pool looked different in nighttime. No garish fluorescents, no
screaming kids, no exercisers resolutely swimming laps. The
cavernous room echoed with the soft squeaking of her rubber soled
shoes. The surface of the pool glimmered like a sheet of glass, soft
mist rising from its heated surface.

To her left, a large plate glass window rose from tiled floor to
vaulted ceiling, normally admitting welcome sunlight to the
recreational facility. Now, streetlights filtered through the soft
mist, glints of light reflecting from the empty lifeguard chairs
scattered about the pool.

She'd carefully locked the door behind her as she'd entered,
ensuring privacy and time to contemplate.

With a sigh that echoed through the room, Kyria walked toward the
viewing bleachers that were normally used to observe swim
competitions, settled onto the lowest bench, and leaned back on her
hands.

She closed her eyes, her thoughts racing.

                            <---===***===--->

She sat there for perhaps an hour, until her buttocks were numb and
her wrists ached. Slowly, she stood, stretching.

She hadn't thought to bring a swimsuit, hadn't really planned on
being here tonight. A movie night with Heather and Rachel was more
on the agenda -- at least until Rachel dropped a nuclear bomb on the
proceedings.

And so she was here. Without a swimsuit, but needing to swim.

Without thought or hesitation, Kyria slipped off her blouse, pushed
down her jeans and toed off her runners. Panties whispered over her
hips, kicked aside; her bra shaken loose carelessly. Her clothing
lay about her bare feet in heaps, foothills upon the ceramic plains
of the pool deck.

There were no lifeguards to chastise her, but she didn't run. She
walked carefully through the darkened room to the office where she
found a switch above a half cup of stale coffee. Flipping the switch
with her finger, she watched as the underwater lights dazzled
through the layers of fluid, casting ripples of shadow upon the
ceiling high above.

She watched the lights for a long time, then stepped back out of the
office and completely naked walked carefully to the highest diving
board and began to climb.

                            <---===***===--->

Kyria stood at the edge of the diving board balanced on her toes,
facing the ladder. Twenty meters below her heels, the surface of the
water glistened like the surface of a moonlit lake at midnight.

Outside, the wind gusted and far away lightning flickered through
the clouds. It wasn't quite raining, still a grey twilight mist
hanging in the air as if the clouds had descended to kiss the earth
foretelling of ill winds.

Slowly, Kyria stretched her arms outward, a swan readying for
flight.

Rachel. She wished for the ease of monkey bars and slides. She
wished for the carefree days before boyfriends and fiances and high
school. She simply wanted to go back to the way it was.

Three sisters. Three musketeers. An inseparable flock of sparrows.

Briefly, anger rose in her cheeks. Rachel had slept with him. It
filled her with weariness and sadness. It didn't even seem strange
to Kyria that she wasn't upset with him. It was over, irretrievably
over, and that she could deal with on its own, but her safety net,
her world, wasn't there to catch her.

Idly, Kyria hoped that the water wasn't as rigid as she feared.

Below, the surface glimmered, though Kyria refused to look down.

Taking one deep breath, her breasts rising as she lifted her arms,
Kyria leapt.

                            <---===***===--->

She was not a professional diver, though her body was well shaped
for the plunge, lithe and muscular. She tumbled through the air, her
ears ringing, her hair free. As if an external force guided her, she
tucked, somersaulting and twisting for an invisible audience, until
with unerring instinct, she straightened, fingers and toes pointed.

Kyria gasped as she transitioned from cool frictionless air to the
close embrace of water.

An Olympic judge, had one been present, would have judged her
favourably.

There was no splash as Kyria entered the water. Only a ripple marked
her passing.

                            <---===***===--->

The underwater world was silent and close. She opened her eyes and
blobs of indistinct light floated in the darkness. With powerful
strokes she moved under the water, revelling in the silence, the
freedom, the hot ache in her chest, deprived of air.

Spinning underwater, she felt every molecule of her bare skin kissed
by fluid. Weightless, she tumbled like an astronaut in freefall.

A smile broke across her face.

She never wanted to stroke upwards, to find the air, to find the
real world. But to stay meant finding another place, one that she
wondered if she wanted.

"Please don't drown," Heather had whispered.

Kyria hung suspended in the water, only her fingertips flittering.
Wisps of her chestnut hair swirled in unseen currents about her
shoulders. Her chest felt like it was going to explode, but the pain
reminded her that she was alive. It was sensation in a sea of
emptiness.

Edges of darkness began to intrude upon her vision. The water called
to her.

Kyria closed her eyes for one last moment, then tilted her face
upwards where gravity told her the surface lay.

With a strong stroke of her arms and a quick snap of her legs, she
propelled herself upwards to the sweet air and salvation.

                            <---===***===--->

Kyria transitioned into a rapid front crawl, arms and legs
whispering through the water. While it felt distinctly odd to be
swimming in the huge pool alone and naked, it also felt natural and
soothing. The cadence and effort of the motion forced her mind from
Rachel.

After six quick laps, she slowed the punishing pace and slid to a
stop in the shallow end of the pool. Her breath came in ragged
gasps and a cramp gripped her left side under the ribs. Collapsing
at the edge of the pool, Kyria lay her head gently upon her crossed
arms and hung in the warm water catching her breath.

Perhaps it was a tiny sound, perhaps it was a sense of no longer
being alone. Kyria slowly raised her face and turned towards the
bleachers where a shadow sat crosswise near her scattered clothing.
She opened her mouth, expecting Heather to have come to check on
her. Except Heather's key was safely in her jeans which lay on the
deck out of reach.

"You shouldn't be swimming alone," a deep, resonant male voice said.

Kyria slipped further under the water until her shoulders were
immersed. The man
   beast?
there, seemed non-threatening, but she was alone and naked in the
presence of a stranger.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, her voice easily carrying across
the empty building.

The man
   beast?
rose from the seats and walked into the muted light. Outside a
rumble of thunder reached through the glass. He shimmered, perhaps a
trick of the underwater lights. He was dressed in a modest bathing
suit, the shorts extending almost to his knees. For some reason,
Kyria would have been more disturbed if the man had been wearing a
Speedo. Physically, he wasn't particularly imposing, tall and dark
but with a strange feminine grace. As he moved, his skin shimmered
again, coppery like scales, then back to pale Caucasian skin tones.

"Who are you?" she repeated again. Slowly, she moved away from the
edge of the pool. She wasn't nervous or concerned about this man's
presence, other than she was without clothing and a little
self-conscious. He didn't seem threatening or have any interest in
ogling her. Nevertheless, prudence didn't seem out of line.

"Does it matter who I am?" he said.

As Kyria moved deeper into the pool until she could stand without
directly revealing her bare chest, he moved forward to sit where she
had recently rested her head. Her heart banged in her chest.

"Did Heather send you? I told her I wanted to be alone ..."

The man smiled gently and shook his head.

"I am here because you need me, I suppose."

"Need you?"

The man sighed and, when he did so, his skin shimmered again. For a
moment, Kyria was sure she'd seen a dragon where the man sat, legs
immersed in the pool. Then the vision faded.

"I am known by various names," the creature said quietly. "Most
common is 'Dragon' or 'Ancient One', but I'll answer to nearly
anything." He paused, staring up at the ceiling. "Perhaps, Ladon."

Kyria carefully stepped away from the shallow end, lightly treading
water. Curiously, it was not to increase the physical distance
between them, but because she wanted to feel the water again
slipping past her bare skin as her limbs moved.

After he'd watched her tread water for a minute, he stroked his face
with one long fingered hand.

"If you'd prefer to be alone, I can go," he whispered.

Mist rose steadily from the surface of the pool as ripples radiated
from her small movements.

She believed him. If she asked him to go, he would. Perhaps he'd
walk away, or perhaps he would enter a portal to another world and
stride through. Either way, he'd leave her alone if she asked.

Her left hand broke through the surface of the water. She bent her
index finger and beckoned Ladon.

                            <---===***===--->

When he touched her hand, a tingle ran down Kyria's arm and across
her chest. Visions of fortresses and muskets and knights flitted
across her vision. Images of Rachel, fucking him, in his bed that
Kyria had shared. A still portrait of a nine-year-old Kyria
supporting Rachel as they climbed the small hill on their way to the
principal's office, Heather trailing worried behind them.

The man treading water easily in front of her shimmered again,
suddenly copper beast, then a pale woman, voluptuous, nude and
virginal. Then Ladon again, masculine and close. Kyria, unafraid,
wasn't certain which form was the true form of the creature, but it
somehow didn't seem important.

Together, they swam casting shimmering shadows above them.

Outside, the skies opened and rain slashed across the earth.

                            <---===***===--->

His lips first met hers underwater. A protest died on her lips as
she comprehended that she was no longer engaged. Rachel had fucked
him and there was no denying that. She said it was only once. Only
once. But it didn't matter.

Ladon seemed to be able to hold his breath forever. Her lungs
wanted to explode, but still she kissed him, arms encircling the
dragon fiercely. Her bare breasts pressed nearly painfully against
his solid chest.

And then her lungs screamed. She released him and rose.

                            <---===***===--->

The swimming trunks were probably at the bottom of the pool. Kyria
recalled pushing at the waistband of the trunks, and suddenly they
were no longer there. Beneath the trunks, he was not massively
endowed as one might expect from an ancient one. Instead, he was
perhaps slightly larger than average, slightly larger than the organ
with which Rachel and Kyria had been intimately familiar. Kyria's
fingers wandered over her partner, and for a moment, even while her
eyes were closed, her fingers seemed to part labia, stroking a
girl's body instead of the stiff shaft she was expecting. As she
opened her eyes in confusion, the creature smiled and her fingers
again wandered the length of a satisfyingly aroused very human penis.

Languidly, she guided them to the shallows, where she could more
easily adjust her position. With ease, she slipped over him, the
water acting as an unnecessary lubricant. As they rocked together,
the fluid provided a curious, but not unpleasant sensation, a warm
waterfall between her thighs.

Ladon was slow, never allowing her to hurry, and Kyria relished
every touch of his fingers, his body. His fingertips entwined into
her wet hair, pulling at the edge of pain against her scalp.

Outside, the storm intensified as the moment of their climax
approached until with a final flash of light and simultaneous
thunder, they both found satisfaction, Kyria with a muted echoing
scream.

                            <---===***===--->

The cold tile pressed into her shoulder blades and hips. The
underwater lights danced across the ceiling like aurora borealis.
Beside her, Ladon stirred, his hand entwined in hers. As the water
evaporated from her skin, she shivered slightly, nearly wishing for
her clothing, mere steps from where she lay.

The second time was perhaps better than the first. At least her
climax had been stronger; she'd bit her own arm to stifle the cries,
her own teeth marks embedded in her bicep. Her knees carried the
ridges of the deck tiles. She didn't care.

The emptiness was fading. As she stared at the lights above her,
wetness, neither from her hair nor the pool, trickled unchecked down
her cheeks. Though she wept silently, the dragon gathered her into
his arms and held her.

                            <---===***===--->

Gradually, the shaking subsided and Kyria sat up. His arms released
her.

"Did Heather send you?"

He shook his head and again she believed him. This entire night had
been strange, but in some sort of prescience, Kyria knew that in a
strange way, it was Rachel who had sent this enigmatic saviour. Not
consciously, but as part of the events that had led to this moment
where she sat sated, naked and unabashed in front of this stranger
on a stormy night in a closed pool where mothers and daughters
normally held swim classes and olympians trained.

"Why are you here, then?"

The creature cleared his throat, and the sound was deep and somehow
feminine. "You can do better than him."

Kyria nodded. She no longer had a fiance. Probably hadn't for a
while. It was strange that she felt little for that.

"She is genuinely sorry," he whispered. Kyria shook her head, anger
welling up in her. The creature reached forward to stroke her cheek
and the anger subsided a little. "We all make mistakes."

"That's quite a fucking mistake," Kyria said. It didn't occur to her
to wonder how this creature knew about Rachel and what she'd done.

"She didn't intend to hurt you," the dragon continued quietly. "You
know that."

"She did. Hurt me. How couldn't she?"

The man sighed, his fingers wandering unopposed across Kyria's still
damp breasts. Kyria shivered.

"Maybe you should have slapped her."

Kyria snapped her head up, trying to ignore the fingertip brushing
at her nipple.

"Think about why you didn't," he continued. After a moment, he
continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "She gave you something
tonight, beyond the pain, if only you can see it."

With that, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Will I ever see you again?" Kyria asked.

The creature shrugged as if to say that the fate of the universe
remains undecided. As the man walked towards the bleachers, he
shimmered, passing through the scales of a scarlet dragon finally
settling upon a naked nymph, her hair flaming to rival Rachel's,
walking barefoot upon the tile. Kyria's desire was not lessened by
the shifts, her eyes tracking the entity.

"And that dive," the girl said with a quick smile, "that dive was
worth a slate of tens ..."

Kyria blinked and when her eyes reopened, the girl was gone,
disappeared into the air like a ghost.

Outside the wind began to decrease, the slashing rain returning to
soft mist.

Kyria sat cross-legged on the tiles watching ripples fade until the
surface of the pool settled again into a sheet of glass.

                            <---===***===--->

She dressed slowly, her clothing still damp from the earlier mist
clinging wetly to her skin. Not bothering with her bra or panties,
she slipped her feet into her runners. Squeaking across the deck,
she entered the office and snapped the underwater lights off.

Hanging on the doorknob of the exterior door, a pair of swimming
trunks hung dripping. Smiling, Kyria picked them up and slipped out
into the darkness, carefully locking the door.

                            <---===***===--->

The heavy mist clung to her clothing and her hair, but it was warm
and comforting. Crickets chirped as she walked through the night.
The sweet smell of rain carried across the silent streets. If she
ignored the streetlights, it would be easy to imagine that she was
the last girl walking on the earth. She was not wearing a watch
tonight, but she imagined it must be three or four in the morning.

High above, the clouds broke apart, stars and the moon briefly
visible. She glanced up as a crimson winged shape shimmered across
the lunar disc. She blinked and it was gone, perhaps a trick of the
light.

The emptiness had fled and the pain flooded in. Tears stung at her
eyes, but did not fall. As she walked alone, she nearly wished for
the emptiness.

Thinking back to what the dragon had said, be it a dream or
otherwise, she continued to walk. She knew what she had to do and
her feet carried her towards her destination.

                            <---===***===--->

She stood at the door and stared at it, conflicted and unsure.

Then she raised her hand and knocked. Inside the house, she heard
cautious footsteps.

The doorway creaked open and a sleepy, tear-streaked face appeared
framed in familiar red hair. Rachel's eyes widened slightly. In the
background, Kyria could see Heather groggy, leaning against the
doorway. Her face didn't seem immune to the tracks of tears.

"Kyria, I'm so sorry," Rachel whispered.

"I know, Rachel, I know."

The sparrows, the sisters, the three musketeers would probably never
be quite the same again, but Kyria closed her eyes and stepped into
Rachel's house and out of the mist.


========================================================================

This is an original work of fiction copyrighted by the author,
Crimson Dragon. Please do not use it as if it were your own. Do not
redistribute, or archive, without written permission.

Any resemblance to persons, places, or times of anyone or anywhere
living or dead, is purely coincidental. Those who know differently
are unlikely to admit their involvement.

Feedback welcome at dcrimson@yahoo.com

========================================================================
Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www
http://members.tripod.com/files/Authors/Dr/wwwagon_Of_Crimson
========================================================================

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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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