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Message-ID: <41222asstr$1047510604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: writerzblocked@aol.com (Writerzblocked)
Subject: {ASSM} {New WZB} "Christine" (MF)
Date: Wed, 12 Mar 2003 18:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Copyright by Writerzblocked,   2003. All rights, well, you know. Repost and 
archive to your heart's content, just don't charge anyone for it or I'll have
to 
send Harry Long after you. You all know the rest of the drill by now. I'm not 
big on headers and/or labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add whatever

MF, MM, FF stuff they think is necessary.

*****************************************

CHRISTINE


He looked down at the puddle of water.  The face that looked up at him was
familiar but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it.  There was a lot he
couldn't remember nowadays.

But he remembered where she was.  He couldn't remember what socks he put on
this morning, or what the nice little girl in the car gave him for breakfast in
the morning, but he always remembered where she was.  

Eggs.  Definitely eggs.  Now where was she again?  Oh, yeah, under the old oak
with the beehive just above that big knot.  Good thing for the rain, they
probably won't bug me today.  He made a big splash as he walked on the man in
the puddle.  Sorry about that, mister, but she's a waitin' for me.

"Mama, can I go outside?"
"No, it's raining too hard."
"Can I change the station?"
"OK."
"Mama, is he gonna be OK?  Mama?"
"Go ahead and change the station if you want."

"Is this OK?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"  One hand was holding onto the bottom hem of the sundress while the
other rubbed nervously against one of the floral designs on the couch. 
"Yeah."
He slowly and awkwardly pulled the dress up over her hips with the one hand
while the other continued playing with the rose.  She lifted her butt up off
the sofa and let out a slight giggle.
"What?"  He suddenly stopped.
"Well, it helps if you use both hands."
"Oh.  Yeah."  And his other hand came down and grabbed the other side of the
dress.  "Sorry," he added under his breath.
As he drew the dress over her breasts, his eyes darted towards the wall for a
second, then back to her as she wriggled her arms and drew towards him to help.
 As the bottom caught on her head slightly, his eyes flashed back down to her
breasts, then straight ahead to meet her eyes as the dress came free.  He held
it and looked at it for a few seconds. "What do you want to do...?"
She snatched the dress and flung it across the room and he watched as it caught
one of the television's rabbit ears and hung there. "Oh. OK," he grinned.
"Uh," he started, and stared at her forehead as she laid back down and
stretched out, "I, uh, don't have a rubber."
The giggled again.  "I'd be surprised if you did."
"Really?" he smiled, and his hand went back to the rose on the side of the
couch.
"Yeah, really," she laughed lightly as she reached out and grabbed his hand
from the sofa's flower and brought it to hers. 
"That's kind of cool."  He looked down from her eyes and fixed on her neck. 
"The rubber thing, I mean. I've never..."
She giggled again and rubbed his hand gently between her thighs.  "I kind of
guessed." 
"Well, yeah, OK, THAT too."  He decided he REALLY liked that giggle and smiled
wide.  "It's pretty obvious, huh?"
"Well...yeah," she grinned as she reached her free hand behind his head and
began forcing it towards her chest. 
He followed her lead and bent close to her breast. "Disappointed?" he ventured
softly.
She held his head with both hands and pulled his lips to hers.

He tried to wipe some of the rain away from the stone again, but there was
always more of it than the scarf could absorb.  It just kept getting wetter and
wetter.  That one came from Woolworths, didn't it?  No, that's right, no
Woolworths anymore, only Wal-Marts. I bet a Woolworth scarf wouldn't be sopping
wet.  She always loved getting wet and he loved that she loved it.  He was
really helpful at that.  He smiled. And here he was no help. No help at all. 
Damn Wal-Mart scarf.  Maybe the coat will work better.  A gentleman always
takes his coat off for a lady. At least the flowers will be nice and wet.  But
that wasn't really the kind of wet she loved the most.

"Mama, I'm cold."
"OK, I'll turn the heat up."
"Mama, lookit how the rain is coming in through that crack in the window."
"Honey, why don't you read some more of your book."
"It's too dark."
"I'll turn on the light in the back seat if you want."
"I want to sit up here with you."
"OK, how 'bout we read it together."
"Sweet!"

She was wet.  He was surprised at how wet she was.  He'd heard girls get wet, I
mean they'd HAVE to so it wouldn't hurt, but he wasn't really expecting this.
It was almost like motor oil slick.  And it tasted funny. Not bad, just funny.
She let out another gasp and her legs tensed for a second, then her butt rose
off the sofa suddenly. Her bone hit his nose, hard enough that he though it
might leave a bruise.
"Was that...?" he looked up and over her breasts.
"Uh...no... believe me, you'll know."  She giggled again. "This is SO cool."
"I guess not too many guys..."  
"None." 
"REALLY?!" he asked, as he went back down.
"Really." She ran two fingers gently across one of his ears. "It's kind of ugly
and messy down there."
"Well, I LIKE messy," he said with a muffled voice and proceeded to make a
loud, wet, sucking noise that caused her toes to curl.  "Messy is COOL!" he
exclaimed loudly as he raised his head to look at her, his lips wet and his
chin dripping.  She started to laugh but found she couldn't, so she just
giggled again.  Messy WAS cool.

That was better.  The coat made it better.  Now she wouldn't get too much
wetter.  Rain wetter, anyway. He was colder, but it was a small price to pay to
keep her from getting too cold.  And to remember. She was a miracle sent from
heaven, she was. No, she IS a miracle sent from heaven.  All those other
strangers at the big house had no one like her to help them remember.  One of a
kind, she was. IS. So nice of the loud woman and the nice little girl in the
car to help me come here every day. Or almost every day. I don't know what I'd
do without her here to help me remember.

"Mama, is it getting worse?"
"Why?
"It just looks like it's harder to see, that's all."
"Oh, the rain."
"Do you think he's OK out there?"
"I think so."
"Maybe we ought to go check."
"You know he doesn't like that."
"But it's rainin' pretty hard."
"I think he'll be OK."
"Will the rain make him any more sick?"
"No, honey, I don't think so."
"Well, I hope I never get that sick."
"Oh, God, please, honey, don't even think that."
"But Aunt Maggie and Uncle Charley are..."
"Why don't we read some more."
"Oh, OK."

The soap slid out of the dish again and made a "ploop" noise as it fell into
the water.  
"What was that?!" She suddenly moved forward and away from him, sending a wave
of bubbles up and over the tub. 
"Uh, nothing," he said, as he felt the slippery bar tickle the hairs on the
back of his left leg. "I mean...just the soap."
"Oh, OK."  She brought a handful of bubbles up and watched them slowly melt
between her fingers. Gently biting her lower lip, she pressed her hands against
the cold tile in front of her. 
"You think maybe soap?" he asked as his right hand fumbled about trying to grab
hold of it.
"Uh, no.  Soap stings too much.  I tried it once when I was a kid."
"Oh."  He stopped searching and brought his hand back around her waist.  "More
Vaseline?" 
She brought one hand back down to meet his. "I dunno," she answered, lightly
rubbing her palm back and forth over his knuckles and wrist. 
"You sure you're OK?"
She hesitated, breathed deeply, and her hand tensed around his. "Uh..."
"OK." He slid his other arm around her, leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.
Her head bent slightly, and she lifted his hand from about her waist and held
it tightly, her slippery fingers snaking between his. Her voice was a whisper.
"Disappointed?"
Waves of bubbly water swept over the side of the tub and onto the floor mat as
he spun her around, effortlessly. He held her head with both hands, and pulled
her lips to his.

The bees were beginning to come out. The rain was still coming down too, but
one of them stopped to rest on one of her flowers. The bee, not the rain. Well,
the rain too. It seemed to like the tulips best. The raindrops, not the bee.
The bee liked the rose best. He smiled and sat on the big tree root to watch
the raindrops and the bee and the tulip and the rose. He looked up at the tree
and stuck out his tongue to catch one. A raindrop, not a bee. That would be
silly.  But, then, she liked silly too. 

"Mama, can I sleep in the Big Bed tonight?"
"Uh, maybe."
"I hate it when you say maybe. It always means no."
"No, it means maybe. You'll have to ask Pawpaw."
"Why doesn't he sleep in the Big Bed?"
"I don't know."
"He USED to sleep in the Big Bed, right?"
"Look, honey, a RAINBOW!!"
"Sweet!"
"How many colors do you see?"
"I see a red and a orange and yellow and green and purple and..."

"Oops, here comes another one," she giggled, and pinched her nose with her off
hand.  
The hum of the outboard motor grew louder from the West, but he could barely
hear it.  Her giggles were just that way, sometimes. He reached out his left
arm, grabbed onto the side of the dock, and began to take a deep breath.
"One, two, THREE!" he said, and took one more look at her before he closed his
eyes. The water of the bayou was cool, but she was warm. Outside and in. Inside
and out. She wrapped a leg around him as he moved. It was difficult, but not
too difficult. He could hold his breath for a long time. Especially when he had
a good reason. 
Finally, he could feel the waves move over them and she scratched at his back.
Effortlessly, he brought them up into the air again. 
As they turned their heads to watch the boat fade into the distance, they both
broke into laughter. But he finished before she did. He always did. Otherwise
he wouldn't be able to hear her. And that was one thing he could never get
enough of.  One of many.
"Mama!" cried a little voice in the distance. "Mama!"
Quickly, frantically, she looked around the dock for her suit. He reached out
and grabbed it and held it behind his back. She looked at him for a moment,
only a moment, then broke into another fit of giggling. He smiled wide.
"You're so SILLY," was all she could say.

Lightning flashed above him. It was getting darker. He liked the lightning.
Didn't much have a use for darkness though. Lightning was quick, loud, and made
the hair on his arms tingle. Like her. Darkness was just darkness. Ugly.
Depressing. Like my brain. I always sleep with the light on and live for the
daylight. Too bad daylight doesn't seem to come much anymore, though. Thank
Christine for that lightning.

"Mama, that one was CLOSE!"
"Yes, it was."
"I'm worried about Pawpaw."
"So am I, honey."
"Let's go get him."
"No, I'LL go get him, you stay in the car."
"But Mama...?!"
"No, you stay in the car and don't touch anything."
"How about the radio?"
"OK, but JUST the radio."
"OK."
"I'll be right back."

The rain was getting heavier now.  It played continuously on the tin roof and
sounded a lot like the drums he used to play in school. But her giggles were
louder. He tickled her tummy again just to hear them. 
"STOP that, silly!" she giggled. 
So he tickled her again.
A flash of lighting broke through the curtains and reflected off the canopy of
the bed and onto her hair just as he was looking at her. "Amazing" he whispered
under his breath.
"What?" She asked as she adjusted the covers to get them between his fingers
and her tummy.
"Your hair," he answered as he fought to get his hand back under the blanket.
She turned toward him and put both her hands in front of her, bracing for the
next attack. "OK, Mister, I know what you're up to and it's not gonna work this
time."  And she tried her best not to giggle. 
"How much you want to bet?" he smiled as he managed to get his hand past hers
and down beneath her tummy. 
"Cheater," she managed to hiss, just before his lips cut her off.
A few moments later, another flash of lightning broke the darkness and he heard
the furnace cut off. She lifted her head from his and looked at up at him.
"Leave it."
"Much as I'd like to, you know how Jenny gets," he replied as he set one foot
off the bed and onto the wood floor. 
"And you know how I get," she smiled, and slid off the bed in front of him.
"She's probably fast asleep."
"Maybe." He sat on the side of the bed and looked out the window.  "The
Thompson's lights are out too."
She smiled and bent down in front of him.  "Then there's nothing you can do, is
there?" 
"Well, not about the power, anyway," he chuckled, and played with her hair as
he felt her tongue. Then she giggled once more, and he leaned back against the
bed and tried his best to keep his knees from folding.  Then another flash of
lightning.
"Daddy?!"  

Came a voice from the darkness. Or the past. It was hard to tell the difference
anymore. He looked around and tried to tell where it was coming from. It was
sort of familiar, like an old song he used to know but couldn't recall the
words to.  Like the man who played the thing with the black and white keys at
the big house. Or the drums from school. It was so confusing.

"Daddy!! What did you do with your coat?! It's FREEZING out here!"

He looked around for his coat and saw it hanging on the white stone thing. What
was it doing hanging there? His shoes were muddy. Black. His socks were black.
Good thing he remembered that. Why is this loud woman yelling at me? And why
does she have my coat?

"Daddy, here, put your coat back on!  Where is your scarf?!"

"Here now! She needs that more than I do. It's FREEZING out here!"

"She? Oh, Lord, Daddy, you have to take care of YOURSELF! Look at you! You're
soaking wet!"

"Don't yell at ME, young lady! I can take a little cold better than she can!"

"OK, yes, I'm sorry, Daddy.  Let's go back to the car now."

"NO!  I'm gonna stay right here."

"Well, we need to get you dried up, then we can come back when it's not
raining."

"It's not that bad."

"The weatherman says it's gonna storm all evening."

"No."

"If you don't leave, I'm going to have to go back to the big house and get the
orderlies. Do you want that?"

"They can't make me either. I got rights, you know!"

He sat back down on the big tree root and folded his arms. He even felt the
water in his underwear now. But it was still worth it as long as the lightning
showed up every once in a while. And the giggles. He couldn't get enough of her
giggles. 
"Pawpaw, you look silly."

She giggled as the lightning flashed. He looked around but couldn't see her. 
Just the loud woman and the little girl. "What did you say?"

"You look SILLY, Pawpaw.  You're all wet."  And she giggled.

He looked down at the mud on his shoes, felt the water squishing around in his
BLACK socks, and had to nod. "Yeah, I guess I AM pretty wet."  She had the
prettiest eyes.  He could see them even through the darkness. "Jenny?"

"Oh, Pawpaw, don't be silly."  And she giggled again. "I'm Chrissy!" She
pointed to the loud woman. "Mama's over there."
"Chrissy, that's a nice name," he smiled and stood up. "Aren't you cold?"
"A little." 
Lightning flashed again.  "You have really nice hair." 
"It's all wet."
He reached out and touched her hair. "Yes, it is."
"So is yours."
"I guess it is."
"Aren't you cold?" Her little voice shivered. "I am."
He reached down to pick her up. "I am too," he whispered in her ear.  "But
don't tell that woman." 
"Why?" she whispered back.  And giggled.
"Because she'll just try and get me to leave again."
"You gotta leave sometime, right?" she said, and scratched at her nose.
He brought a big hand up to wipe water off his chin. "Well, yeah, I guess." 
"I gotta go back to the house 'cause I ain't ate since breakfast."
"I ain't ate since breakfast either," he said, and turned his head to look at
the lights off to the West.

"Come on, Chrissy," the loud woman yelled. "Time to go home and eat."

"C'mon, Pawpaw, we gotta go." She shifted around in his arms.
"Were you the nice little girl who brought me breakfast this morning?"  He
peered into her eyes, searching.
She pouted.  "Yeah, don't you remember?"
"Of course I remember!" He smiled, and started down the path into the darkness.
 
"Eggs," they said in unison.  And giggled.


http://www.alz.org/


"Write what you want, how you want, and don't worry about the rest of the
world.  If you do it long enough, eventually they'll catch up."

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