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From: Marla Ambrose <marambrose@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Julianne Ch. 2: In the Dark (FM)
Date: Sun, 1 Oct 2000 13:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "story2.txt" begin>
JULIANNE
DISCLAIMER: It should go without saying that this work is of an adult,
as in pornographic, nature, and that you need to be over 18 years of age,
or 21 in some areas, to read it. But I'm going to say it: you need to be
over 18 years of age, or 21 in some areas, to read this story. So there.
Chapter 2 In the Dark
As far as her eyes can see, there's blackness. The place is not dark,
no. Just black. There must be some light inside, because she can see
herself. She doesn't know how she got here, she suddenly was inside this
place, and that's all she knows. She touches the black ground. A smooth
surface.
Maybe she can find out something about where this place is, or better,
what this place is. And why she's here. Time to explore.
She starts walking. It's strange. It feels like she's not moving at
all. She sees her legs, one in front of the other in quick succession, but
when she looks around, nothing is moving. A landscape of nothingness.
Hours have passed, it seems, and she's still walking. Maybe it's been
minutes, but isn't time mostly subjective anyway? Well, isn't it? She
screams.
HELLO.
No reply. And what's more amazing, no echo.
ANYONE?
She laughs, nervously. Come on, what's going on here? This is kinda
funny... No, wait, this is hilarious! She laughs louder.
HahaHAHahaHAHhaAHHAHhAHAHAHHahaHHaHAHAHHahAHAH
Her foot hits a wall. What...?
Her hands run over it. It feels identical to the ground. She starts
feeling desperate. No, this can't be...
She hits the wall with all her strength. Her wrists almost break, and
she cries. She starts running along the wall...endless. The wall is
endless and she's trapped. The only way she'll ever leave this place is
when she dies. But she's not in the real world...what if her soul can't
find a way out too?
A recurring, annoying sound startles her: bleep bleep bleep bleep.
Where's this coming from?
Louder: BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.
Oh, she realizes, a fraction of a second before she wakes up. No need
to fear.
***
She can still taste the coffee in her mouth as she closes her
apartment's door and feels cold morning air fill her lungs.
Dressed to work, she looks pretty, she thinks. Clothes cover all the
scars.
She imagines herself entering a bar, or somewhere, anywhere, walking up
to a man and asking him for lights. If only she could find some freak
whose biggest turn on was fucking a woman with her clothes on, properly cut
to allow penetration.
She rounds the corner to the garage and bumps into someone. It's a
girl, early twenties. She must have bumped into her pretty hard, because
she's on the ground now.
OhmigoshImsosorry, she finds herself saying.
That's okay, the girl says as she stands up. There's no way you
could've seen coming. I shouldn't walk that close to the wall.
No, I'm the one to blame, I'm sorry, she says as she helps the girl
remove the dirt from her clothes. She's dressed in a heavy, long coat.
Not much of her body can be seen. The back of her hand accidentally
brushes one of the girl's breasts. The contact, even over thick cloth,
sends a shiver up her spine.
She notices how tired the girl appears to be, looking like she's using
all her strength to guarantee that her eyelids won't drop. Her face is
puffy, with some traces of blurred makeup. The girl must have noticed her
staring, because next thing, she says, I look like hell, don't I?
No, you don't, she politely replies.
The girl laughs.
Oh, I know I do, you don't need to be kind. It's been a very, very long
night.
She's beautiful. Shoulder-length light brown hair, very dark brown
eyes. Sharp nose, soft lips. Not an instantly recognizable kind of
beautiful, but a beautiful that takes a little while to surface. The kind
that you might miss if you only look and not stare. Maybe that's the most
beautiful kind of beautiful, she thinks. Beautiful that's not of an easy
sort.
I'm so in need of a bed right now.
You can have mine, she thinks but doesn't speak.
Don't let me stop you, is what she says instead.
The girl smiles.
I'm Claire, by the way. Number 45.
Julianne, 61.
Nice to meet you, Julianne, the girl says as she gives her a hand. She
shakes it.
***
She watches Claire climb the stairs to the second floor of the apartment
complex from inside her car. She feels herself lubricate.
***
Work is hell.
A maze of booths, in an office floor that could be a hospital so aseptic
it is. Not a good work environment. If only the people who worked in it
weren't so stupid, she wouldn't mind it as badly as she does.
Clive, or the Weasel, as she likes to call him, her left booth neighbor,
stands staring at her as she works. His tie hangs from his neck, almost
brushing her head. She looks at him.
What do you want, may I ask?
Clive smiles.
Yes you may. In fact, if you didn't ask, I'd have to tell you anyway.
Blainey is meeting with his supervisors in about...
He checks his watch.
...half an hour, I think. It's about production levels, or something
like that. He might call some of us to his room, to discuss the results of
that meeting. He told me to pass you the message, since you were late this
morning, just so that you are prepared for anything.
Shit, she thinks.
I was only ten minutes late.
Yeah, but that was enough.
Clive smiles, and removes himself back to his cubicle.
She wants to whisper You fucker, but she know he has abnormally good
hearing.
***
Blaine calls her into his office. She was expecting that. The asshole
hates her.
Hello Julianne, he says from behind his desk. He doesn't even stand to
meet her, like he does with everyone else.
Please have a sit. We need to talk.
Why don't you cut the formalities and go right to the point, she hears
herself saying. She can hardly believe she said it. It's not like her at
all being this sincere.
Wow. Calm down, let's chat a little first.
She sits on a chair, and looks straight into his eyes, with rage in
hers. He flinches. It's barely perceptible, but she knows he flinched.
What's going on with you, he asks. She doesn't reply. She doesn't know
the answer anyway.
Here's the thing. I've been talking to my supervisors today, as you
probably already know, and the results for that research we've made last
month came up. Some of our employees' production rates have gone down to a
frighteningly low level. You're one of those employees.
She knows what's coming up. She can ask him to show her the results,
and she's sure he's going to make up some lame excuse for why he cannot let
her see them. Production levels going down my ass, she thinks.
Now, Blaine continues, I'm certain you can turn in a good excuse for
your lack of discipline, but I don't think the guys above me will buy that.
We have a major issue here, because I sure as hell don't want to let you
go. I can try talking them into giving you another chance to, say, double
your results next month. We're doing the same research again and you just
might have a shot, because-
Blaine, cut the shit out, she interrupts him, not quite believing
herself.
What?
Cut. The. Shit. Out.
Hey, I'm trying to help you here.
Don't try to sound offended. You want to fire me, and you will.
Blaine doesn't reply.
You never really liked me, I know. You don't need to go over all that
to fire me. Why wait for next month to do it? Just tell me to go and I'll
go.
Blane waits for a moment before he speaks.
Take your stuff and leave, then. Just get the hell out of here.
All of a sudden, an idea crosses her mind. At first it disgusts her.
But then she reconsiders it.
I'll give you a blowjob if you let me stay, she says, giving him her
best smile. That gives him pause.
What the fuck...?
You heard me. I can't lose this job. I'm offering you a blowjob if you
do not fire me.
You gotta be kidding me.
She stands up, walks behind the desk, and kneels beside him.
You doubt me? I dare you to unzip your pants.
Come on!, he says.
Next moment, though, he's obliging. His cock, still soft, isn't long,
but thick. She takes it between her thumb and index finger, and clears the
shaft of the pubic hair surrounding it, because she's always hated hair in
her mouth. Feeling some blood being pumped inside the cock, she licks its
head. Immediately, it responds, rapidly growing hard. Her lips surround
its purple tip, forming a ring where the head ends and the shaft begins.
She feels the salty taste of pre-cum.
Mmmmmmmmmm. A muffled moan from Blaine.
She thrusts the cock inside her mouth. God it feels good. It's been
ages since she's gone down on someone, and she misses it. The cock throbs
against her tongue. She moves her head back up again, keeping the ring of
her lips rigidly formed around the cock. Her tongue circles around the
head, and she also applies some suction to it. More pre-cum surfaces from
the tiny slit in the head.
Yeah, that's it.
She takes her mouth off the cock, puts her hand around it, and starts
pumping.
Do I get to keep my job?
Oh, you betcha.
She goes down on him again. This time she quickly fucks him with her
mouth, moving her head frantically up and down, up and down...He explodes.
Jets of cum successively hit the back of her throat. She lets the hot
semen accumulate there before swallowing everything with one big gulp.
Only when the cock starts to soften, she remembers whose cock this is,
and starts questioning her actions. She considers giving the cock a big
bite, but thinks of the aftereffects and decides it's not a good idea. She
lets it fall out her mouth.
Blaine looks down at her and nods.
See you tomorrow, then?
Yes, she says, almost a whisper, before leaving the room.
***
She can't wait until she gets home. There's no one in the parking lot
anyway.
She wets two fingers on her mouth. The taste of sperm lingers at the
back of her throat. Her hand goes under her skirt, inside her panties.
She madly fingers her clit, thinking of the cock, not of Blaine's cock, but
just a cock, touching her lips and the tip of her tongue.
She comes, then reaches for her car keys, smearing cunt juice all over
them.
Smiling, she starts the car.
<1st attachment end>
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