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From: slipstream_sunrise@hotmail.com (f. aces)
Summary: Mindtrap after catching a few mistakes
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Subject: {ASSM} Mindtrap <*> {f. aces} (MF, oral, first, true)
X-Original-Subject: (post-proofread) Mindtrap <*> {f. aces} (MF, oral, first, true)
Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 15:10:03 -0400
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Mindtrap
by f. aces


The power of a circle lies in its permeability: the ease with which you
pass through it.

Not what's inside it.

I remember being told that the center of a wagon wheel is so powerful
that it can hold the spokes in alignment, that it can maintain the force
of motion, and it can only do this because it is empty.

The nothing in my lungs draws in the smoke. The bitter nothing of the
smoke burns me.  The nothing in my pockets reminds me of where I've
been: nowhere.

Funny, I always thought Utopia would have a lot less asphalt.

My legs begin to ache from sitting on the bench so long, and I am just
about to stand up when two ghosts sit down with me.

Ghosts have so much nothing to say that they're best listened to, lest
they ignore you, and when you're ignored by nothing, where would you be?

Says the one, ``Do you know what a circle is that you can enter, but
can't leave?''

A book-of-the-month club.

``A trap,'' says the other.

So I was close. Points for creativity.

``So, sweetie,'' a new voice. A new ghost. She trails her fingers along
my back. ``Do you know what the value of a memory is that cannot be
forgotten?''

Everything, nothing, ten pounds of wax.

A sultry chuckle.

Fingernails along the neck. Cold and wet breath in my ear as she huskily
breathes ``And what about an event that you can't remember?''

Fingernails under the ear, my pulse is quickening.

``It can control your life.''

Shit, I said that aloud.

The other denizens of the bus stop to look at me, then look at the man
across from me.

``That's right, Sir. The Word of God can reach into your heart and bring
you onto the high road from your troubled path.''

Oh, dear god. Or not. Or maybe I'd better pay attention to my
surroundings next time.

``No, I said 'Nothing'. Nothing can control your life.''

``Yes, exactly. With God on your side, there is no force that can stand
against you.''

``Oh, you've got it wrong there, sweetie.'' She says as she kneels
between my legs. ``A good blowjob can control your life pretty much
forever.''

A sly smile.

``Don't underestimate the power of fellatio to change a man's mind.''

I grimace, which the evangelist takes as his cue to continue.

``What troubles you, brother?''

``Nothing.''

``Consider yourself blessed. Sin may trouble many a weary soul.''

I smile.

He moves on.

I stand up.

The ghosts come with me.

``The merit of a path is in its ability to provide passage.''

Again, a reprimand. The ghosts are unhappy, today.

They're not always so talky as this. A good Chinese restaurant would
take the starch out of Mr. Fortune Cookie.

``A name is an attempt to capture what you cannot grasp.''

Yeah, he doesn't like it when I call him that.

But he might have a point with that ``Food is the river in which we
run'' bit.

Chintzy bar at 3 o'clock. Waitress at 3:15, through window. Whiskey
Probable, expect Gap in reinforcements. At least it's not a Tommy bar.

5 minutes, 5 dollars, 8 ounces with a twist.

She has a sip.

``Looking after you is thirsty work.''

Somehow, I doubt that.

She hands me the drink to distract me and rests her head in my lap.

As I swallow my mouthful, I look down at her. Her eyes look so sad, and
her hair scatters about her, as if I were a warm, comfortable, and safe
quilt at a picnic.

This is a bit much, and she knows it.

I take another sip so I don't have to look her in the eyes, and she
nestles into my hip a bit more snugly, her nose wedged into me.

This is way too much.

Her hand comes up and strokes my throat.

Things are falling apart. I drain my glass, and lean back in the booth.

``You need to remember, you know.''

No.

``No?''

No.

She looks at me and narrows her eyes. No mercy. No mercy.

She arches her back a bit to accommodate the curve of the booth, and
moves her hair out of the way. She licks her lips and unzips my fly.

She inhales deeply, and nuzzles her face in, her left hand coming to
help with getting to her goal.

She gets to work, her feet in their soft leather half-boots lazily and
languidly shift on the wood of the booth.

Throaty murmurs, the sound of skin on tongue, and the rustle of jeans.

``I'll bet you wish you knew how that felt, don't you?''

Shut up, ghost. Shut up.

``It's really very funny, watching you watch her do that to you and
listen to her do that to you, and watching you try to puzzle out what it
must feel like.''

....

``Want a hint as to what it feels like?'' David is feeling cruel again.
He's not a nice ghost. ``I could tell you, you know. Maybe it would
help. I hate to think your imagination is stunted, but sometimes a
little help is nice.''

She stops, puts her arms around my neck, pulls her hips under her, tilts
her head a bit, and slowly presses her lips against mine, closing her
lips around my upper lip.

``And you don't even know what that feels like either. Hmm...and I
haven't the first idea how to explain it to you.''

Muse frees her left hand and flips off David. He laughs at that, but
goes away.

``You know,'' she says, stopping the kiss to look me in the eyes, ``I do
love you.''

                        *  *  *

``Someday''

He's singing, again.

``Beyond the sea. Somewhere waiting for me,''

Watching the ships that go sailing. Feeling the ocean breeze rush out to
meet them.  I remember a boat, standing on the bowsprit as the ocean
lunged beneath me. My jacket flailed in the wind, the kiss of winter.

I remember the rest of the passengers back below-decks, wanting to avoid
the wind and the rain clouds.

And I was alone. The crash of hull to ocean was monotonous, but not
totally regular.  The sensation of movement undeniable, but the belief
of movement untenable. And the water became darker, and darker, greeting
the clouds in the sky. My hair ruffled to the quick, making me feel even
more alive.

And though I felt pleasure and peace, I knew that nothing showed on my
face. As I faced that broad ocean's nothing, I reflected that nothing
back to it.

Behind me a few passengers paused in their talk to wonder before then
dismissing.

The crew, composed of drivers and tour guides more than seamen, also
dismissed, going back to their duties and their card games.

Save the woman at the helm, who also held the ocean's gaze. We stared
into the horizon's abyss together. It was my first taste of nothing.

And that was many years ago.

Many years ago.

I turn away from the ships, and walk back into the city, my jacket
snapping in the wind.

I think I'll head to the bus stop. Maybe this time I'll get on the bus.

Giggling and heavy breathing. I look into the alley and see a young
couple. She is getting her grey leggings dirty, but I am impressed with
her ability to keep her beret on straight while working her head like
that.

His hands cast about before settling like finches upon her shoulder.
Then a wince of pleasure brings his hands right above her ears. She
seems to put up with it.

Twisting his head in idle pleasure, he sees me. Looks me in the eyes,
and smiles a friendly half-smile.

``Do you know what a circle is that you can get out of easily, but
others can't get into?'' The ghost whispers in my ears, ``A fortress.''

The concussion of the wave, the armies of nothing scream as the main
gate goes down.

``I haven't done this before.... I'm not sure I'll be good at it.''

Her nervousness makes him smile, ``Well I've never had it done before,
so I don't know how it'll be.''

She smiles, and settles in between his legs, trying to get her arms
comfortable and her shoulders arranged properly. She glances from his
penis, to his face, to the space between her elbows. She opens her mouth
and leans forward a bit, and then goes back, coughing and with a
sheepish expression.

``You okay, babe?''

She looks into his eyes. She says ``I want to do this.''

He smiles at her, ``Okay.''

She leans in again, the support of her arms giving way to wrap around
his legs, sliding up his hairy thighs. As her jaw lowers, she gets a
funny smile on her face. She kisses the head, and then takes him into
her mouth, letting his erection part her lips.

I am on the top bunk of the bed, and I am supposed to be asleep.
Instead, I have exchanged dreams for a slow, cold death.

His breath catches in his throat.

She's not very good at it, and she drools a bit too much, being too
cautious about her teeth.  Her hair falls around his crotch, and she
slowly develops a rhythm, and confidence.

He shifts his hips, and moves his legs. His eyes track lazily.

And meet mine in the mirror.

He smiles lazily at me.

You see, he never knew that I was dating her, too. That she told me she
felt more comfortable around me than anyone else she knew. That she and
I had this deep bond together. That I met her first.

And, of course, I didn't know until then that she didn't find me
attractive. That she didn't like me, sexually.

And that she, the nervous and adamant virgin all these years, wanted to
suck his cock.

So I went back to sleep. Tried to go back to sleep. Succeeded, yes, and
as I drifted off I heard him gasp, and I heard her stop, then cough a
bit, noisily swallow, then whisper ``How was it?''

                                    *  *  *

And there I was, in my jacket with the wind whipping around me, looking
into the eyes of some young fellow who might have been me, or might have
been her boyfriend oh so long ago.

And I smile back, and chuckle a bit.

I nod at him, and continue on my way.

Nothing sometimes holds us back, and nothing sometimes draws us forward.
It's rare, however, to be able to meet nothing as a friend, and shake
its hand.

And listen to the wind rush out to the sea.

--- 
Beyond the Sea lyrics are (c) Bobby Darin, used without permission.
This story is (c) f. aces, slipstream_sunrise@hotmail.com
licensed for non-commercial duplication

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