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Message-ID: <44645asstr$1065575403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimsonp@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Keys (FF, MF, rom) {Crimson Dragon}
Date: Tue,  7 Oct 2003 21:10:03 -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

-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----

Synopsis: Keys (FF, MF, rom)
  Shawn and Simone both love the same girl, and Deanna doesn't
  know how to resolve her internal conflicts. Two beautiful women 
  having an affair and someone is guaranteed to get hurt. So. Who
  do you love?

This is a marginally erotic story featuring, among other things,
sexual content that may include depictions of nudity, consensual
sex outside of standard bedroom settings, and Dragons. It may 
even -- horrors -- contain depictions of hetrosexual and/or 
female-female sexual liasons. You've been warned.

But you can read story codes, right?  If this is going to offend
you, or you are legally immature, please refrain from reading this
story. There. I've said it.

This story is copyrighted by Crimson Dragon. Please do not repost or
redistribute in any manner without written permission from the
author.

Comments always welcome.

 - Crimson
   (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

This story, and others, are archived at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www
http://members.tripod.com/files/Authors/Dr/wwwagon_Of_Crimson

Keys
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www/short_stories/stories/keys.html


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

                            Keys 
                        (FF, MF, rom)

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

                 (c) Copyright - November 2002
                     All rights reserved
               Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

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

Bright, warm sunshine slashed through the tilted blinds, streaking
across the bedroom like fingers of light, dust motes caught in
frozen time. Simone knelt above her, her smile as radiant as the
sunbeams that striped her bare skin from the tips of her breasts to
the trembling of her thighs. The sun played in her blonde locks,
cascading over her shoulders like a million sparkles from a thousand
waterfalls.

Simone's breath came short and fast, her breasts rising and falling
in rapid rhythm. Her lips formed another quick smile, and she gently
lowered herself, breasts meeting breasts, lips, soft lips, finding
soft lips.

With a hunger reminiscent of a caged lioness, Simone kissed her, her
teeth connecting almost painfully with the intensity.

"Deanna?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I need you ..." Simone whispered.

Without waiting for an answer, Simone swivelled, her legs flashing
in the afternoon light. Her head dipped, her lips finding other soft
lips, her tongue gentle but insistent.

Deanna moaned, and reached upwards, her fingers grasping at the
perspiration sheened skin hovering near her, pulling Simone down,
down, down.

Fingers slipped into her, wet, slippery, so swollen. Deanna moaned
again, her voice muffled in the girl. She wanted to cry out, but her
throat refused the commands of her mind.

All thoughts fled. There was only Simone. Only Simone.

A tongue touched her clitoris. And again, circling, teasing.

Without warning, blue light washed over Deanna's mind, and dimly she
heard her own voice cry out, felt all the muscles in her body
contract in blessed unison, a choir of sound and sensation -- a
mixture of relief, release and passion.

Above her, she still tasted Simone, the girl writhing and moaning in
a rhythm that matched the pulsing of the blue light flooding her
mind. Simone squeezed her fingers, buried deep within. Squeezed
tightly. Squeezed in a rhythm that felt wonderfully familiar, nearly
matching the contractions of her own muscles.

Her own climax subsiding, a sigh escaped Deanna, echoed by the
blonde girl as she collapsed wearily, her gentle weight close and
comforting above. Perspiration dotted Deanna's brow, and slicked
between their bodies, as Deanna struggled to control her breathing.

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

The faint smell of peaches tickled her nose and she turned lazily,
pushing one bare leg under the bed's comforter. Simone appeared, her
hair transformed from vivid blonde to a dark chestnut as it dripped
across her bared shoulders. A cloud of steam billowed around her
form, twirling about her ankles like tentacles.

Deanna sighed. She hated this part most of all.

"Simone?" she said softly.

Simone continued to walk towards the bed, her toes leaving tiny damp
patches on the cream of the carpet.

"Mhmmmm?"

Simone's eyes flashed, silently asking if Deanna was ready for more.
She was ... oh, how she was ...

Instead of nodding as she desperately wanted to, she ducked her eyes
and whispered, "Shawn will be here soon."

Deanna didn't look up, couldn't. She knew every nuance of Simone's
face, every flash of disappointment, every carefully guarded attempt
to hide. And she hated -- hated -- being the cause.

Simone's insubstantial weight dimpled the bedclothes beside Deanna.
Deanna bit her lip gently as Simone's fingers trailed lazily over
her breasts, teasing and close. Simone's skin radiated the clean
scent of peaches, her fingertips damp against Deanna's skin. The
musk of their tryst dissipated until all Deanna could sense was
peaches, and the soft shallowness of Simone's breathing.

"I can't keep doing this," Simone whispered.

Deanna closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. She wanted to cry out.
But Shawn. He'd be home soon.

With a muted sigh, Simone's weight rose, the bed creaking quiet
protest. Deanna watched silently as Simone moved gracefully about
the room, bending modestly to gather up her scattered clothing. Bra.
Lacy panties. Jeans.

Denim slipped up long legs, catching at dampness until Simone's pale
skin disappeared within. Simone fished deep into her pocket with one
hand, the other carrying her top and bra easily. She leaned back
against the dresser, the soft curves of her bare back visible in the
mirror behind. A muted jingle of keys broke the quiet as Simone
twirled the metal about her index finger idly, nervously.

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

Thunder crashed, though the sudden flash and noise seemed out of
place. Simone stood soaked, her shirt plastered to her body, nipples
pushing expectantly against the cool of the water rushing over her
body. Thunder rumbled again in the distance, raindrops pattering
through the pine needles above.

Eerie grey light illuminated the clearing, and Simone lowered her
eyes, turned, and walked away. The whiteness of her top melted into
the evergreens.

Deanna tried to cry out, call Simone back. The clear coldness of the
falling water touched her tongue, stifling the cry.

Thunder crashed again, nearby, and it was out of place, unreal.
Deanna's mind focused again on twirling metal. Twirling. Spinning.
Jingling ...

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

Jingling as the metal twirled about Simone's finger, flashing in the
late afternoon sunbeams. No rain. No thunder. No forest.

Deanna opened her eyes, and Simone stood, still topless, still
radiantly beautiful. She ached for the girl, but didn't rise from
the bed. Mixed in with the sadness, the regret, there was puzzlement
as if Simone had seen the same visions of rain and prophetic
fallacy.

"I can't keep doing this, Deanna," Simone whispered. "I can't."

"Don't leave." Deanna heard her own voice, as if it were lost in a
forest somewhere, distant and alone. It hadn't occurred to her that
she'd been the one to ask Simone to leave in the first place.

For only a moment, Simone hesitated, her voice forlorn but firm.

"I must."

"Because of Shawn?"

Simone nodded miserably. A solitary tear traced down her cheek. She
didn't bother to wipe it away. Deanna's eyes tracked the moisture
until it dripped from Simone's jaw.

"Meet me later? Please?"

Simone hesitated again. Reluctantly, Simone lowered her eyes and
nodded as if she never had a choice in the matter. Her bare
shoulders slumped slightly, as if she bore the weight of the world
upon her. But even with the weight of the world, she would see her
responsibility through.

"The Portal. Sometime tonight," Simone whispered, her voice barely
audible to Deanna.

"When?"

"Tonight."

Shawn wouldn't understand, but she would make excuses. Somehow.
Deanna closed her eyes. "I'll be there," she said softly.

Her heart beat heavily in her chest, regret and the exertions of the
afternoon combining in a symphony of vibration.

Only the flash of one bare heel as Simone disappeared down the
hallway bid farewell to Deanna as she wearily opened her eyes.

"Simone ..." she whispered.

The front door closed with a gentle bang, somewhere as far away as
the forests of her vision. She wanted to lie back and cry, but Shawn
would be home soon, and she was sure that her body and the drying
perspiration would brand her for what she'd done. Again.

Slowly, she pushed herself up until she sat on the edge of the bed,
her bare toes playing aimlessly with the carpet.

A black bra sat like a sentinel upon the dresser where Simone had
leant. Carefully, Deanna gathered it up, pressing the fabric to her
face. Simone's scent, feminine and close.

With great care, Deanna slipped the bra into her underwear drawer,
even while it wasn't her size. Shawn wouldn't see it there. Guilt,
and an overbearing sense of grief washed over her as she stepped
naked towards the shower.

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

She glanced at the slim gold watch that graced her wrist. Shawn sat
across the room, lounging in the overstuffed easy chair watching the
Blue Jays lose, yet again.

"I'm going out," Deanna said softly.

Shawn nodded, absently waving with the neck of his beer. He truly
was a good man, she thought.

"Where are you going? Should I wait up?"

She paused half in and half out of the door. Better lies based in
truth.

"Meeting Simone. I hope I'm not too late."

His attention returned to the game before the front door shut behind
her.

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

Cigarette smoke penetrated her eyes, stinging and intimate. A
margarita sat lonely, grasped lightly between two fingers of her
right hand. Slowly, she raised the wide glass to her lips, sipping,
the alcohol tingling upon her tongue.

Between her legs, she felt the familiar soreness that always seemed
to appear after an afternoon with Simone. Oh, she didn't mind. It
was a good soreness. A soreness that she wanted, that she loved; a
gentle reminder of unrestrained physical love. She tingled slightly,
and she shifted her legs, crossing them under the table.

She could feel everyone's eyes upon her, especially the men. This
was no place for a single girl, sitting alone in a quiet booth well
away from the booming music and the dance floor where patrons spun
drunkenly to eighties ballads.

The Portal carried on without her intervention, the clatter of
humanity surrounding her as distant as her thoughts. Somehow, the
crowd seemed to sense her mood, and not so much as one male presence
sidled up to drunkenly ask her zodiac sign.

She was beginning to notice this unusual behaviour of the bar when
the entrance doors opened, and a tall, dark man walked in. The smoky
haze seemed to part as he moved, and his eyes fell directly on her
booth. She shivered, wondering if she had inadvertently taken his
usual table. She tore her eyes from him, and raised her glass back
to her lips.

When long, strong fingers touched the back of her hand, she raised
her eyes, startled. He stood there relaxed, an easy smile forming
across his lips. She stared at him, trying to summon up a look of
disdain; even while she missed the male attention, she didn't much
feel like brushing aside lame pick up lines.

"She'll be here, soon," he said quietly. His voice cut through the
general cacophony without the need to raise his voice. He leaned
down onto the table, and for a moment, Deanna thought that she could
smell brimstone. The long strong fingers seemed to shimmer into more
delicate feminine hands, but only for a moment.

"Excuse me?" Deanna replied, at a loss for words.

"Simone. You are waiting for her, aren't you?"

"How? What?"

He smiled again, and pushed himself back up. He must have stood at
least six foot three, perhaps even taller.

"Shawn. Simone. You'll have to decide," he murmured.

She wasn't even sure that she'd heard it, but her heart banged in
her chest.

"Shawn sent you? What did you do? Follow me?"

He smiled again, this time an enigmatic smile. He touched her arm,
and his fingers were warm.

"Don't be silly," he said. And a sense of calm descended over her.
She believed him, though why, she couldn't have said. Without
another word of explanation, he turned to move away from her table.

"Wait!"

A few people turned to look at her, including the strange man.

"Please. Who are you?"

His lips formed the words, but they appeared more in her head than
through the hazy air.

"Some call me the Dragon."

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

The Dragon had disappeared into the crowd, melting into the shadows
as if he had never made his enigmatic appearance. She watched for
him, half-heartedly, but he didn't reappear and she wasn't sure that
she wanted him to, or if he'd ever really been there. Her eyes swept
over the crowd, and not for the first time, she wondered if Simone
was going to stand her up. She sighed and sipped at the dwindling
margarita. The ice within had mostly melted.

When she looked up to scan for the mysterious tall man, she gasped.

Simone stood at the end of the booth, her lips set in a smile not
echoed by her eyes. For a moment, the girl stood while waitresses
and patrons flowed around her like a river moves around an island.
Deanna's breath caught for a second, her lips moving, but no sound
issued from her throat.

The noise in the bar muted, as if an unseen Dragon had thumbed down
the volume on some cosmic remote control. But of course, the ambient
noise continued -- the dancers now gyrating to an old Def Leppard
tune -- only Deanna's awareness of the surrounding bar had
diminished until only she and Simone stood amongst the stale haze.

Without asking, Simone slipped into the booth, her booted foot
briefly touching Deanna's jean clad calf. She looked at Deanna, her
long lashes blinking away the cigarette smoke. Her hand stole
forward and gripped Deanna's lightly, fingers soft and gentle. The
same fingers that earlier had generated moans and flashes of
electricity upon Deanna's body. The same fingers that had been deep
within her.

For a minute, both girls remained silent, as though they both were
aware that this meeting could only end in one predetermined place.

Simone sighed. "I have to go," Simone said quietly, her voice, like
the Dragon's, somehow slicing through Def Leppard.

"Why?"

"Because it isn't right. Not for me. Not with Shawn. Not with you.
It's not fair on any of us. You know that, Deanna. I'm so sorry. I
should never have ..."

Moisture, hot and salty, welled up in Deanna's eyes. She blinked
quickly, and sipped at her margarita. The tang of tequila blossomed
on her tongue. The soft scent of clover, peaches and spice briefly
overpowered the stink of cigarettes, and she was sure that the
scents had drifted from Simone's golden hair. Deanna's breasts
ached.

"Simone ..."

Simone glanced away, towards the bar. Somewhere out there, a Dragon
walked. Slowly, her eyes returning to Deanna, Simone shook her head,
strands of her hair billowing as if a breeze had tickled the golden
tips.

Elsewhere, somewhere outside of the booth, Def Leppard left the
stage to be replaced with the rattling, driving, guitar of Thorogood
and the Delaware Destroyers.

"You have to decide, Deanna. Who do you love?"

"I don't know."

Don't know? Or don't want to know?

Deanna pursed her lips, her thoughts drifting to Shawn, trusting
Shawn, reliable Shawn, watching a baseball game, sipping his beer,
perhaps even hoping that she was having a good time with Simone.

She closed her eyes, her breath beginning to accelerate. Her
breasts rose and fell under her thin shirt.

Simone's image -- her bare skin striped by the afternoon sun, her
head tilted back, lips parted, gentle cries urgent and full of
passion. Fingers, so soft, trailed over her swollen nipples.

Deanna opened her eyes, the haze around her cloying, stinging.
Across from her, Simone gazed at her, eyes watching, understanding.
For a moment, Deanna was sure that Simone had seen what she had, the
image of bare skin, and gentle fingers. Impossible.

Simone sighed prettily, and shook her head slowly.

"It's all right," she whispered. "I never expected anything."

The table wasn't particularly wide, and without warning, Simone
pushed herself up and leaned across the table. Her lips touched
Deanna's, somehow chaste and sexual simultaneously. As quickly as
she had been there, she was gone, sitting easily opposite, her hands
resting against the grain of the tabletop.

Deanna wanted to beg. More time. Don't leave. Please.

But before the words could pass her lips, Simone slipped from the
booth, standing uneasily at the edge of the table, her eyes somehow
level with Deanna. She reached forward, her fingers brushing
Deanna's cheek, salty moisture coating the fingertips.

"Good-bye," Simone whispered.

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

Through the blur of tears, it was impossible to tell. Simone walked
through the crowd that parted for her like the Red Sea parted for
Moses. She didn't sit, but rather leaned into the bar, almost
shouting to the bartender above the din of the music. Of course,
Deanna couldn't hear what she said, nor did she want to. Beside
Simone, a tall, dark, man watched Simone, then glanced back at
Deanna's booth. It was impossible to tell, whether the man was a
Dragon or not.

Then Simone nodded, and pushed back from the bar, walking unimpeded
towards the entrance. She glanced back once, half in and half out of
the Portal. She gave a small wave, and even through her own tears,
Deanna could see Simone's tears as she turned towards the outside.
Somehow, that made her cry harder.

Sometime after the door had closed, and Simone had disappeared like
so much smoke, another margarita arrived at Deanna's table.

"From Simone," the waiter whispered.

Deanna stared at it through her tears for a long, long time.

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

Somewhere beyond the plate glass behind her, the lake lapped against
the unseen shore as it had since the last ice age. Today, she
couldn't see it through the light summer drizzle that fell in a fine
mist that shrouded the world, drifting between the office buildings
that littered the downtown core. She stared at the rain, unable to
concentrate on the computer or memos that covered her desk. Outside,
the drizzle continued.

In a shimmering forest, Simone walked towards her through the rain,
her shirt plastered to her breasts, her legs and feet bare, sheened
with moisture. She smiled, her full lips parted as she walked
towards Deanna, arms open for an embrace. Closer, the scent of
clover and new rain filled Deanna's senses. Deanna's lips parted,
wanting to taste Simone, touch her.

A soft warble broke the easy quiet only filled with Deanna's shallow
breathing. Slowly, she turned to face her desk; the vision faded
into white droplets beyond the protective glass. A single red light
blinked on her phone. Her heart began to speed up.

Simone.

It had been weeks since the Portal. Uncounted messages left, but
none meaningful, or at least none that said what needed to be said.
She couldn't leave the one message that might have made a
difference, and Simone had not returned her calls, nor could Deanna
blame her.

The phone warbled again.

Simone.

Deanna's hand reached, grasping the cold plastic of the receiver.
Her blood pounded in her ears as she silenced the warble and raised
the phone.

"Simone?"

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

"Oh. Hi, Shawn."

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

Deanna turned and stared back out into the rain.

"It's out of the question, Shawn. I have too much work to do, and
..."

Her heart began to slow down again to a more normal rhythm, the
pounding in her ears receding.

"No, Shawn. I can't go with you. Not this weekend."

A siren wailed somewhere below, hidden in the sea of white. She
listened for a moment, not surprised by Shawn's query at the other
end of the telephone wire.

Deanna sighed. It was the truth, at least at the moment.

"No, Shawn, I'm not seeing someone else."

Not Simone.

"I just can't ... I'm sorry, Shawn."

Uncaring, the drizzle continued outside the glass, streaks of water
running down the window like tears.

She listened for a moment, considered dropping the phone back into
the cradle. She closed her eyes. Unbidden, Simone's image emerged
from an ocean of mist.

"It's supposed to rain all weekend, Shawn."

Simone's image faded, but didn't quite disappear. Simone's lips
whispered, "Good-bye."

Deanna wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I know. I know, Shawn. Different. Withdrawn. I'll try harder. I
promise."

She paused, thinking, and then spoke quietly into the phone.

"Okay, Shawn. I'll go."

Without waiting for an answer, she lowered the phone, the red light
winking out obediently. She turned back and stared into the white.
Simone's image faded, but her chest still ached.

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

Rain pattered against the windshield as the tires of the pickup
truck crunched against the gravel of the winding driveway. Inside
the truck, Deanna tried to concentrate on anything but her lurching
stomach, but the nausea continued to assail her. The truck stopped
with a jolt, and she blindly reached for the handle, the door
swinging open. Wet cool air washed over her. With a sigh of relief,
Deanna released her seat belt, and stepped into the drizzle, the
water dripping into her hair, and clean, fresh air filling her
lungs.

Suddenly, he appeared at her elbow, his hand warm, guiding her
towards the cabin under the pine boughs. Inside, after helping her
remove her wet shoes, he guided her to the plush sofa. She laid
back, covering her eyes, and concentrating on breathing. The
carsickness receded slowly.

Shawn stepped from the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine, one
of which he handed to Deanna before settling to the floor near her.

"Thank you," Deanna whispered. The wine tingled against her tongue.
The liquid helped quell the nausea. She closed her eyes again.

The man sat near her on the floor. She envisioned him, as she knew
him, inside the bedroom and outside. His laugh. His kindness. In
short, he was perfect for her. He loved her.

But did she love him?

She sighed.

She knew the answer, of course, but she didn't know why. Perhaps,
she could never know why.

She kept her eyes closed. His gentle breathing, and the soft sounds
of him sipping his wine reached her ears.

But Simone's face hovered ethereally behind her closed eyelids.

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

Reaching down, her fingers entwined with his, she pulled him gently
to his feet. She shushed Shawn with a single finger against his
lips.

She guided him to the sliding glass doors that overlooked the wet
deck, the uncaring forest beyond, partially shrouded in white mist.
Her fingers unlocked the door, and a cool breeze washed over them.
Rain kissed her jeans and feet.

"But it's raining, Dee."

Without hesitation, she walked out onto the deck and pulled her damp
shirt over her head, dropping it in a wet heap near her feet. She
pulled off her socks with her toes. She placed her hands on her hips
and turned towards the cabin, where Shawn stood watching her.
Beckoning, she smiled.

He stepped out into the rain.

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

Like an audience, their clothing surrounded them. In the middle of
the deck, she straddled him, riding him slow and steady. She closed
her eyes, fingers trailing over wet skin, between her legs,
stroking. Up. Down. Rock.

Rain dripped through her hair, flowing like a river down her bare
back. She ran her hands over his wet chest, fingers dipping between
his teeth. Behind her, the rain hissed off the surface of an unseen
mountain lake.

It may have been clean rain, or it might have been salty tears,
dripping down her cheeks.

She began to cry softly as her mind wandered. Emerging from the
forest, a naked girl walked through the wet pine needles, hands
outstretched, a ring of keys twirling, catching the grey light
wandering through the overcast.

And suddenly, she could feel the breeze over her naked skin, the
rain coating her from nipples to bare toes. But it wasn't her skin
- -- it was Simone's, even the pine needles under feet, the scent of
new rain filling her nostrils. Tears intermixed with the rain.

As her lips touched the lips of Simone, as she kissed herself, her
body clenched, climax rising over her. Dimly, she was aware of
Shawn exploding within her, her climax triggering his. Below her,
Shawn moaned, his hips thrusting upwards into her.

Her climax drained from her slowly, her breathing falling back to
normal. Her muscles relaxed and she fell forward, embracing Shawn,
and shivering.

She should have been satisfied. Should have been happy. Tears
continued to flow, though she was almost sure that Shawn would
mistake her hitching breathing for afterglow.

Satisfaction? Only physical. Only frustration. Only lies.

It was as if it were the last time she would love him.

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

She carried the dry blanket beside her, brushing against her bare
legs. She shivered, wished that she could wrap the blanket around
herself, but instead, she tucked the coarse cloth around Shawn who
lay softly snoring in the bed that she should be sharing with him.
Shawn mumbled something in his sleep, and she smoothed his wet hair
back from his forehead.

Slowly, she gathered up her soaked clothes, holding the pieces
dripping in her left hand. A small puddle gathered around her bare
feet as she watched him sleep for a while.

After a few moments, perhaps sensing her, he opened his eyes, a
light of understanding falling across his face.

"Sleep well," she whispered.

"Good-bye," he mumbled before closing his eyes again.

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

Shivering, Deanna sat at the kitchen table, goosebumps rising across
her bare breasts. Ignoring the shakes, she held her head for a
moment, then bent over a clean sheet of white paper. Dots of water
fell from her hair, forming small miniature puddles and smudging her
writing. Though she wasn't crying yet, the water reminded her of
tears.

The pen continued inexorably across the paper.

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

For a moment, she hesitated at the door, one hand lightly resting on
the knob, the other still carrying her clothing.

With a sigh, she stepped out into the rain. Instantly, it coated her
skin again. The gravel of the driveway pressed painfully into her
bare feet, but she continued without complaint. It wasn't difficult
to ignore the pain when it was less than what she knew she must do.

At the truck, she hesitated. Slowly, she turned back towards the
cabin. Shawn stood in the window, and for a moment, she was sure
that he was the man from the Portal, the Dragon. She blinked and
the image disappeared, a trick of the light.

She turned back to the truck, her fingers lightly lifting the door
handle. Locked, it didn't open, and she sighed.

Keys.

She took a step back towards the cabin, tears beginning again. She
couldn't remember a time that she'd cried as much in a single day.
The keys would be in Shawn's jeans, or perhaps on the table near the
entrance.

She stopped, the gravel near the front wheel sharper beneath her
feet than that she'd already traversed to get to the truck from the
cabin.

Maybe it was a sign, an omen. She wasn't meant to do this. A sign
that she'd forgotten something as simple as a set of keys. How could
she unlock anything without keys? She shifted her weight slowly from
foot to foot.

A flash of metallic light caught her eye near the centre of the wide
expanse of the truck's hood.

Keys.

She stared at the keyring for a while, before reaching across the
wet metal and picking them up. She twirled them about her finger and
cried there for a long, long time.

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

The sweatshirt protested as she pulled it over her head. The sodden
cloth clung to her like a second skin, causing her to cry out at the
sudden cold against her breasts. The cabin filled the windshield. In
the same window where the Dragon and Shawn had appeared, a golden
haired girl shimmered, her skin striped by afternoon sun through
slatted blinds. Deanna blinked, and the image faded.

Simone.

Shawn.

Simone.

Shawn. Dependable. Trusting. Understanding. Kind.

Simone. Exciting. Vibrant. Forbidden. Naughty. Kind.

Her hand lightly grasped the door handle. She loved him once, and
she knew that she should run back to the cabin, tear up the note,
and slip under the warmth of the blanket, curl up with Shawn. The
keys twirled about her index finger, as water dripped into her eyes.

The Dragon's voice touched her. "Who do you love?"

Try as she might, Simone's image filled her mind. Not the man
sleeping in the cabin beyond the safety glass. Her body tingled, as
her bare feet caressed the pedals.

She loved him once. But it wasn't fair on him. Or her.

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

She probably shouldn't be driving barefoot, but the rough texture of
the brake pedal caressed the bottom of her foot. Her toes depressed
the brake pedal, the red taillights reflecting off the mist behind
the pickup. She stopped twirling the keys about her finger. Shawn
marked the keys with bands of coloured plastic. The crimson tipped
key marked the ignition. She slipped it into the slot. The engine
roared to life, and the sound drew her from her reverie.

Lies. Keys.

She had no idea if Simone would return her calls.

"I'm sorry, Shawn, but I think I love her."

He knew, and somehow, he understood.

She stared at the keys dangling in the ignition. His keys. His
truck. She'd return them to him, as soon as she could. Somehow, and
she didn't understand it, he wasn't expecting them back soon. Nor
was he expecting her back.

She stared out the window into the rain.

Then she lifted her foot from the brake pedal, and the truck
smoothly reversed, its tires crunching the gravel. The keys jingled
in the ignition.


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