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From: Bradley Stoke <bradley_stoke@hushmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ascension (Bradley Stoke) (caution)
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Date: Tue, 04 Mar 2008 01:10:04 -0500
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Title: {ASSM} Ascension (Bradley Stoke) (caution)
Author: Bradley Stoke
Keywords: caution
Short Summary: Sally is uncomfortable with her mother.



Story: Ascension (5,248 words)

In many ways, Sally should be living in the prefect home, but she
is uncomfortable. Her mother is loving, but not in the way Sally
would prefer. Can Sally escape her mother's excess of affection?


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www



	Ascension
        =========



As Sally skipped home from school she held in her hand a little
daisy she'd picked from the grass verge by the roadside, and
plucked off one petal after another while thinking about Sheila,
her best friend at school.

"She loves me," she said with a smile, tweaking off one petal.

"She loves me not," she said with a frown, removing another
petal.

But at last. Only one petal left. "She loves me!" Sally said with
relief. Sheila loved her. Hooray! If only Sally had the courage
to tell her that she loved her. That she loved Sheila more than
anyone else in the world. They might both be girls and so it
probably wasn't proper love she felt towards Sheila, but it was
love enough for that. And a love that never really left her,
whatever she was doing and wherever she was. Perhaps
tomorrow she would tell Sheila of her love. And that she would
love her forever and forever. That would be so beautiful, Sally
was sure, although her conception of what 'forever' meant was
extraordinarily short term.

She could see home looming up ahead. A moderately large
four-bedroomed detached house in a very pleasant suburban
crescent lined by leafy trees. Each house was enclosed by a tall
hedge with at least one car on every drive. Sally's heart fell
slightly as she wondered what her mother might be up to. She
had got so very odd recently. And although she dearly loved
her mother, she was also increasingly frightened by her. She
hoped her mother would be just sitting in the living room,
perhaps watching one of those afternoon soap operas or
reading a magazine.

Sally pushed open the wicket gate to the drive and strolled up
to the front door. She pushed against it. It was on the latch, so
she knew her mother was in and not visiting one of the
neighbours. As she wandered into the hallway, past the huge
adult-height mirror and the Constable reproduction, she could
hear gasping, grunting noises that confirmed Sally's fears. Her
mother was not only at home and acting in that extraordinary
way she did these days, she was doing so in the company of
some friends or neighbours.

Sally entered the kitchen. Perhaps she could fix herself a
sandwich or a cereal or something. One thing she knew for
sure was that Mummy wasn't going to do it for her. Sally had
learnt that when she first discovered that some things took
higher priority for her mother than keeping her children fed and
watered. But she found when she wandered in, her eyes
focused on the fridge just by the work unit, that one of
Mummy's friends was already there. She was also one of the
neighbours: Mrs Kunson, from two doors down at Number 42.
The woman was about the same age as her mother and had
just one daughter. That was Cynthia, a pretty girl with long
curly blonde hair, - but not nearly as pretty as Sheila, - who
was skipping school a lot more often recently and whom Sally
had once seen crying in the Chemistry lab. And when Sally saw
Mrs Kunson, she was no longer in any doubt as to what
Mummy was doing. The grunting sounds she'd heard weren't
because Mummy had retrieved those weights that were still
lying around in the garage and had taken up exercising with
them again.

"Hello, Sally dear," Mrs Kunson said with a broad grin. "I
didn't hear you come in."

Sally almost answered by asking how could she with all the
noise coming from upstairs, but she didn't. "Hello, Mrs Kunson.
How are you?"

"Call me Cathy dear. Did you have a good day at school?"

Sally nodded, but it was difficult really to focus on the question.
And this was because Mrs Kunson was totally naked, one
hand holding a lit cigarette and the other a tumbler in which
there was some clear amber liquid which was probably
Daddy's whiskey mixed with water. And Mrs Kunson wasn't
just naked, which Sally found off-putting enough in a woman in
her mid-thirties: her enormous pendulous breasts more an
affront than a potential source of comfort. Like Mummy she
had shaven clean her vulva, which was now somehow even
more naked than a bare crotch should be. And from wherever
Sally stood in the kitchen she could see that shaven groin, the
labia falling out onto the brown leather of the stool on which
she sat and opened ever so slightly so that Sally could catch a
glimpse of its fleshy fig-like interior.

"Cyn goes to the same school as you, doesn't she? You know
Cynthia, don't you? Is she a friend of yours?"

Sally hesitated a bit. She wanted to open the fridge. Get
something to eat in her room. She'd prepare a cereal. Perhaps
Coco Pops or maybe Frosties. And then butter up some
bread. Smother it in either peanut butter or chocolate spread.
But she didn't want to be impolite to Mrs Kunson, even though
she was sitting just next to the fridge, smoking a cigarette,
which Daddy didn't really like people doing in the house, and
drinking his whiskey, which Sally doubted even less was
something he'd be pleased about. Sally took a deep breath and
opened the fridge.

"Cynthia's not really a friend, Mrs Kunson, but we're friendly."

"That's nice dear!" commented Sally's neighbour, puffing
thoughtfully on her cigarette. "Would you like to get to know
Cyn a bit better, dear? Or a lot better? She's very eager, you
know. There's not a lot she won't do these days. Kev, that's
my husband, Cyn's Dad, and me, well, there's not much we
don't do with darling Cyn. She might be a little girl, but there's a
lot of spare capacity. And I'm sure she'd enjoy the more
intimate attention of someone the same age as her."

Sally wasn't too sure she understood what Mrs Kunson was
getting at. She poured some Frosties into a bowl and followed
that with a measure of milk, which never quite splashed and
sparkled like it did on the advert. "I like Cynthia. But she's got
her own friends," she replied diplomatically.

"Well, she's got her father and me to keep her happy," smiled
Mrs Kunson. "But she's not got any brothers and sisters. And
she says she doesn't want to invite any of her schoolfriends
home. She says they're too busy."

Sally reflected on this. In fact, Cynthia didn't have that many
friends these days. She'd become quite a quiet girl, sitting alone
at the back of the class. She used to be good friends with
Patty, but somehow she and Patty weren't so friendly now.
However, Sally didn't want to upset Cynthia's Mum.

"There's a lot of extra classes after school they go to."

"And Cyn says she goes to them as well," sighed Mrs Kunson.
"Well, she's often not home until ever so late. So, Sally dear,
what do you say? Do you want to visit Cyn? Have some fun
like your brother, whatsisname, Sheridan, does."

"Sheridan?" wondered Sally. She knew her brother was
spending more time with her mother, but she didn't know how
much he was being influenced by her.

"Yes, he's always coming round. Always in and out." Mrs
Kunson laughed and stubbed out her cigarette in the saucer
she'd been using to collect ash. "Get it? Always in and out. And
not just Cyn, either. He's got the darlingest little cock, your
brother." Mrs Kunson ran a finger up the length of her vaginal
gash, lifted it to her mouth and licked it lasciviously.

Sally spread the butter over the slices of bread she'd retrieved
from the bread bin, while trying to understand what Mrs
Kunson was saying. She knew that Sheridan had started having
sex with Mummy. In fact, he hardly ever stopped boasting
about it. And it wouldn't really surprise her if he'd started
fucking Mrs Kunson. It'd almost be more surprising if he
hadn't. But Sally shivered at the idea of her brother having sex
with Cynthia. Much as she loved Sheila, she wasn't confident
that sex was quite what she really wanted. And she supposed
that Cynthia probably felt much the same way.

Suddenly, there came an extra loud gasp from upstairs.
Followed by a very throaty scream and a longer series of
shouts. It was Sally's mother's voice. And Sally wasn't too sure
what she was saying. Was it "Yes! Yes! Yes!"? Or "More!
More! More!"? Then there was a kind of woofing growling
sound.

Mrs Kunson stood up from the stool and pointed up the stairs.
"That sounds like they've finally got old Kim, your German
Shepherd, in on the act. About time too. The dog's just been
watching for ages. You can't ignore a dog when he knows
what's expected of him."

Kim? Mummy said she wouldn't let him do it again after that
time he excitedly scratched Mrs Carter from across the road
that time. It was a good thing she'd not needed a stitch for it,
although Daddy was insistent she get a tetanus jab. Sally
looked up towards the staircase in the hallway, although she
knew she wouldn't be able to glimpse into her mother's
bedroom where all the noise was coming from.

"Who's with Mummy?" Sally wondered.

"Oh! Well, besides me. And Kim, of course. There's Becky.
Rebecca. Mrs Dolan, you know. And then there's Fran. You
probably don't know her. She's a real demon for the strap-on.
So, there are four of us, I think. And the dog, of course. You
don't want to add to the numbers do you, dear?"

Sally was horrified. The idea! All she wanted to do was retreat
to her room. Put on the telly and watch something. Or put on a
CD and read a magazine. Although Sheila didn't know how
much Sally loved her, she was sure that it would be wrong to
compromise her love in such a way. She shook her head, while
transferring gollops of chocolate spread onto the slices of
bread.

"Well, it's your loss, dear!" sighed Mrs Kunson, standing in
front of Sally, her shaven crotch just below the height of the
kitchen work surface, and her glass of watered-down whiskey
in one hand. She placed a hand on Sally's face, just under the
hair falling onto her cheek, causing the girl to wince. "You'll
soon change your mind, dear. Cyn was much the same as you
at first. Bit reluctant she was. Even though Kev and I, we made
a point of doing it, you know, fucking, in front of her. Cyn's
education, if you like. And Kev's mates as well. Cyn soon saw
sense. And your mum. Well, she's almost the most up for it of
all of us. If it wasn't for that bore of a husband of her's, your
dad, well, you'd be well trained already."

Sally brushed Mrs Kunson's hand off her face. She didn't like
what she was hearing. No wonder poor Cynthia didn't have
many friends now. No one would want to get involved in that
kind of stuff. Fucking was something you did when you were
older. When you were fourteen or fifteen or something. Not
when you were just twelve.

"See you later perhaps, dear!" grinned Mrs Kunson, who bent
over and pressed her lips on Sally's own and then strode off
naked into the hallway and up the stairs.

Sally sat by herself in the kitchen. She lifted herself onto the
stool that Mrs Kunson had vacated and chewed and chomped
her way through the Frosties and sandwiches. She washed it
down with long swigs of sparkling orange-flavoured drink. As
she sat there, she looked for comfort at the pictures of cheery
chimps and hippos on the labels of the products she was
consuming. Above her, she could still hear the sounds of
guttural, shrieking, sometimes quite alarming, lovemaking. Not
only people's voices, her mother's and Mrs Kunson's being
especially loud, but also the occasional woof and the sound of
a bedstead thumping against the wall in a rhythmic and
repetitive manner. She felt imprisoned. She didn't want to go
upstairs because it meant she'd have to pass her mother's
bedroom. But she also didn't want to be found in the kitchen by
her mother when they'd finished. Although Mummy had
promised Daddy, and Daddy had reassured her that this was
so, she didn't really believe that Mummy would always respect
her wish not to get involved.

Eventually, Sally tiptoed up the stairs. The door to her mother's
room was open, the one that her father no longer shared, and
Sally could see her mother crouched down, kneeling on the
floor, with Kim just behind her and hunched over, bandages
tied around his paws, and his groin and tail pumping backwards
and forwards into her mother's rear. Beneath her mother, Sally
could see another naked woman, not one she recognised,
probably Fran, whose mouth was locked to her mother's
mouth and who had an artificial penis, of the kind Mummy
called a 'dildo', strapped around her waist, but not actually
penetrating anything. As Sally passed by the doorway, anxious
not to be seen but curious as to what was going on, she could
see Mrs Kunson on the bed, her legs and arms wrapped
around Mrs Dolan, but arranged in ever such a funny way, with
their faces right up against the other's crotch. That must smell
awfully musty, Sally thought. Especially if it smells in that funny
pungent way her own crotch smelt like when she'd been
stroking it and thinking of how much she loved Sheila.

Sally eased open the door to her room and jumped onto the
bed, making an immediate indentation on the flowery duvet that
spread across it. Sally stretched her legs out, turned on the
stereo which still had in a CD by her favourite boy band of the
moment and let the back of her head hit the pillow. All around
her were pictures of the various boy and girl groups whose
records she enjoyed and which had been cut out of the several
magazines she bought every month. She opened one of these
magazines, and, as she so often did, she opened it at the advice
pages, where there was always friendly advice about what to
do when boys didn't say the right things, or when schoolfriends
started ignoring you, or when your best friend started going out
with a boy.

Sally found the advice very interesting, and some of it was quite
pertinent to her, like that letter from the girl who was in love
with her best friend but was frightened that she'd lose her
friendship if she confessed to her love. That was so much like
her own dilemma with Sheila. And all that stuff about periods
and those peculiar cramp-like pains she sometimes got and also
those funny dizzy spells. That was all very interesting. But a lot
of it never had anything to do with her. She couldn't see what
other girls saw in boys for instance. Boys were just stupid. If
they were like her brother Sheridan, that is. And they never had
advice for girls whose mothers fucked dogs and went around
nude all day and had sex with all the neighbours and their
husbands. And she was too frightened to write in and ask for
advice, because she wasn't sure whether Mummy wouldn't get
arrested or something. Although Sally didn't quite know what
was legal and what wasn't, she was sure that fucking dogs
wasn't something mums should do. And what about that time
with the pony? The time when Daddy had got ever so upset
and told Mummy that she could do what she liked but never to
involve their children. Even if it was just to watch. Sally didn't
want Mummy to go to jail.

However, if Mummy did go to jail then maybe Sally could ask
Sheila round to visit. With that thought, Sally slightly loosened
the buttons that secured her jeans so she could get her hand
inside her knickers. And then she and Sheila could be like
proper friends. They could sit in front of the mirror, try on
make-up and giggle. Sally put a finger on her crotch, the hairs
being still quite spare, but less spare than on her mother's
shaven vulva. Without Mummy, Sheila could stay over. And
the two of them could nestle together on the bed. Sally's finger
at last located that little button, the 'clitoris' as they called it
in
Sex Ed, which was never as easy to find as the magazines said.
And when Sheila and she were locked together, they could kiss
each other and cuddle. Sally stroked herself energetically, a
warmth filling her coming from deep inside where the thoughts
of her love for Sheila were most sincere and true.

Sally put the magazine down and rolled onto her side, one hand
inside her knickers and her fingers prodding, poking and
stroking around her crotch while her other hand caressed a
breast, where the nipples were attaining a new hardness and
firmness on a bosom that was not quite flat but nothing like as
large as Mummy's. Although her eyes were focused on a
poster of the lead singer of a boy-girl group, a cute girl with
pretty funky hair and a shiny ring in her navel, the image filling
her mind was of Sheila's sweet face, the light brown hair that
fell on either side of her face, but not onto her shoulders, the
light blue-green eyes and that smile with the silver brace still in
place on the top jaw. Oh! She loved Sheila. But she wasn't at
all sure how that love should realise itself.

"Fuck, Sal! You're fucking wanking, aren't you?" suddenly
remarked Sally's brother's voice.

Sally snatched her hand out of her trousers and turned round to
face Sheridan, who was standing naked by the door, his penis
obscenely erect and somehow pointing in Sally's direction.
Although Sally was sure she ought to be attracted to things like
that, the more often she saw erect penises the less she liked the
sight of them. And although Sheridan's wasn't as bad as a dog's
or a horse's or even a grown man's, it was horrible enough.
And ever since he and Mummy had started fucking together,
Sally had seen much more of Sheridan's penis, both erect and
limp, rather more often than she'd cared.

"Actually," Sheridan continued, "I don't know if what girls do
when they touch themselves is called 'wanking'. It's not like you
get a stiffy, is it? Not like me. But of course nowadays I don't
have to wank any more."

Sally sat up in the bed and glared at her brother. "Have you
been ? been ? having sex with Mummy again?" She could
see that the penis was covered with a slight coating of dust,
which probably meant it had been used for that purpose.

"No. I'd like to've been. Mum's a good fuck. No. She's been
knotted with Kim. She can't get out of it for ages. I've been
fucking Fran. She's a bit younger than Mum and her cunt's not
as loose. But she's a good fuck too!"

Sally was not a girl who liked swearing. She thought all those
words sounded wrong somehow when they were used so
often. And Daddy had told her not to swear. And Sally usually
took her father's advice. And Sheridan didn't used to swear so
much before Mummy had persuaded him to have sex with her.
And he was only two years older than her. Did that mean that
when she was fourteen that she would have to start swearing as
well as having sex with older people? It was ever so confusing
and the magazines weren't really much help in answering
questions like that. But in the meantime, each 'fuck', 'cunt' or
whatever cut into her like a knife. Although she wasn't exactly
sure what other words Sheridan should be using.

"Go away, Sherry!" Sally ordered. "This is my room! You just
can't come in here whenever you feel like it."

"Okay! Okay!" Sheridan said, holding his hands up, but his
penis just as erect and a broad grin on his face. "Yeah. I guess
I wouldn't want you coming into my room. Especially when I
was fucking someone. You know, someone like Fran. Or
Cynthia. Or Mummy. But you know it could be different you
know."

"Could it?"

"Yeah. You could let me fuck you too. You know that Mummy
wants me to. She said to me only yesterday: 'Wouldn't it be
nice if we could make love with Sally as well.' So, what do you
think? Do you think we should?"

"Mummy's already said that to me," sniffed Sally. "And I told
her I didn't want to. And Daddy said I'm right not to. I've got
to really want to do it before I ? before I ? before I give
assent."

"'Assent'? That means permission or something, doesn't it?
Well, the sooner you give assent the better. I'm just aching to
fuck you. And look at my prick! It'd love to get inside your
little pussy cunt."

Sally didn't like the sound of this at all. And she found the sight
of Sheridan's erect penis fairly disgusting, but it was more or
less the most prominent feature about him at the moment and
impossible to ignore.

"Go away! Just leave me alone! Go away!"

Sally threw a pillow at her brother's face. It bounced off and he
laughed, but he backed off. "Okay, Sally! Okay! But it won't
be long, sister dear. You know that when Mummy's made her
mind up to do something, then Mummy'll make sure it
happens."

"Go away! Go away!"

Sally was close to tears and when the door to her room finally
closed and her brother was gone, a small lachrymal trickle
made its way loose from the corner of her eye and traced its
way down her cheek. She wanted to get back to her magazine,
but she found it difficult to concentrate on even the relatively
trivial articles that filled it.

Sally lay on her back, her head on the pillow and faced up to
the ceiling. The lampshade was still the childish one she'd had
since she was six where characters from Toy Story were
painted on the outside. Her wallpaper was similarly childish,
being a reminder of an earlier obsession she'd once had for
ponies. That was before Mummy let herself get fucked by one.
That was an unpleasant memory. She'd never really noticed
that horses even had penises before, let alone enormous ones
like that, and it was frightening not only to see the pony's penis
enter her mother's vagina, assisted of course by friends and
neighbours, but also to see her mother's expression as it
happened. "Go on! Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder!" she had
screamed. Was that the same Mummy who used to tuck her up
to bed and read her bedtime stories?

Sally thought about Cynthia as well. It frightened her that
Sheridan was having sex with her. That couldn't be right.
Sheridan was much bigger than her. But not as big, she
reflected, as Cynthia's father, who was a burly man with short-
cropped hair. It must be horrible to have a man's full-grown
thing inside you! And it must be odd when it's your Daddy that
does it. Wouldn't that make it a bit funny? At least Sally's
Daddy didn't behave like that. In fact, he didn't even make love
with Mummy anymore, as Mummy would so often remind
everyone whenever they had meals together.

"What do you expect me to do since you don't fuck me any
more?" Mummy would ask Daddy across the dinner table,
while Sally would look down at her plate of burger, chips and
peas with embarrassment and Sheridan would just smirk.

"That's not the point, dear," Daddy would answer. "I don't
mind you doing whatever it is you want to do, as long as you
don't involve the children."

"You're just a fucking dead loss!" Mummy would announce.

The CD had come to an end, so Sally jumped off the bed to
look for another one to put on. Perhaps a compilation or one of
those free CDs that were mounted on the covers of her
magazines. Just at that moment, she heard a polite knock on
the door.

"It's me! Daddy! Can I come in?"

At least Daddy knocked. Not like Sheridan. Or even Mummy
when she was with Mrs Carter that time and she wanted to
show her daughter how far they'd embedded the double-
headed dildo in each other, before giggling and slamming the
door shut again.

"Yes. Come in."

Sally's father walked in and sat on the chair just by Sally's
laptop computer. He was a tall thin man, whose hair was
already partly grey and who wore wire-framed glasses that
made him look exactly like the academic he was in real life.

"I've got some news, Sally dear. But I don't want Sheridan or
Mummy knowing about it. I want it to be our little secret."

"'Little secret'?" mouthed Sally with fear, who had heard of this
expression during Sex Ed. That normally meant child abuse or
something.

"Well not so much a little secret as just something not to tell
Mummy and Sheridan. You know how things are now with
your mother and your brother, don't you? How they're ?
they're ? indulging in ? in ? improper relationships?"

Sally nodded. Daddy meant 'fucking', but didn't want to use the
word. And she didn't want to use it herself. But she was
worried. Was Daddy going to suggest that he and she should
indulge in 'improper relationships' like Cynthia and her father?

"I always told your mother that was a step too far. But there's
no stopping boys, I suppose. Indeed, I doubt whether Sheridan
really understands what he's let himself in for. It was bad
enough with the animals. I thought that would be the limit.
Nothing could be worse than that. But with all the neighbours
having 'improper relations' with their children, or at least those
neighbours your mother spends time with, I guess it was
inevitable that ?."

Sally's father paused and looked towards her with a strangely
blank, despairing expression. Sally didn't know what to say,
but she was feeling very very uncomfortable. Why wouldn't
Daddy go away? Let her watch telly or something.

"I don't know how it all got this far. It was my fault as well I
suppose. All those swinging parties and wife-swapping and
kinky fun and so on. It all seemed quite harmless in a way. And
we tried to keep all that out of sight of you kids as you were
growing up. But somehow it just didn't stay like that. The time
with the pony, for instance. What was your mother thinking
about? And then Kim. He was just an ordinary dog. Now look
at him! And then your mother had to ? had to ? seduce ?
Sheridan. It's all far far too far too much for me!"

Sally's father paused. And then he straightened up, perhaps
becoming aware of where he was and to whom he was
speaking.

"What's the 'secret' Daddy?" Sally asked with a tremulous
voice.

"'Secret'? Well, it's only a secret insofar as I don't want
Mummy and Sheridan knowing. Everyone else it's fine. I just
want us to leave this house. Tonight in fact. As soon as
possible. Preferably when all your mother's friends have left
and there'll just be her and Sheridan left behind. I can predict
that Sheridan and your mother will be resting in the one bed,
the one that used to be our bed, and then we can sneak out of
the house. The secret is that I want us to leave."

"What? Leave home? Leave everything here?" Sally cried
incredulously. She looked around her wildly at the toys and
possessions she loved so much. She couldn't bear to leave
them.

"Well, we'll come back for all your stuff, dear. But I've taken
out a mortgage on a flat near here. It's a few miles away, but
we don't want it to be too easy for your Mummy to follow us.
It's only a two-bedroom flat. One bedroom for you. And one
bedroom for me. But it'll be safer for you than here. It won't be
long until your mother will try and seduce you. I can see that.
She's a determined woman, your mother. Once she's set her
mind up on something, it'll happen. We don't want you to be
like poor Cynthia Kunson. Or even Camilla Carter. We've got
to get you out of here."

"But tonight?"

"It's the soonest I could do it. Well, to be honest I've been
putting it off. I'd been thinking of other things to do, like getting
the law involved. But I didn't want that. And it wouldn't make
either your mother or me popular with the neighbours. And I
thought that maybe with each new taboo broken, your mother
had somehow reached the limit of her appetites. But that wasn't
to be either. So, it's about time. The choice is pretty bleak
otherwise."

"So what do I do?"

"Pack up as many of your things as you need for tonight and
the next couple of nights. Once we've moved out for sure, once
it's a fait accompli, I'll tell your mother and I'll get the rest of
your stuff moved. But it's got to be done. You can see that,
can't you Sally?"

Sally was sitting at the head of her bed, her legs crossed
beneath her, as she tried to imagine life not living at home. The
thought was horrible. She'd got used to living in the pleasant
suburban crescent and she'd got to know so many of the
neighbours. To leave that behind? But then Sally thought
about Sheila. How could she ever invite her best friend back
home to a place where her brother wandered around naked
with an erection and her mother made love with a dog while her
neighbours joined in? What sort of a home was that? Certainly
not the kind of home she ever saw featured on television.

But in a flat? Shared only with her father. It might be smaller,
but at least she could ask Sheila to visit. That would be a lot
nicer.

"Yes. I can see that, Daddy."

"Fine, dear. So get packed. But be discreet about it. Don't tell
Mummy or Sheridan. And later tonight, we'll drive off to the
new flat. You'll like it. It's not far from the university. Near the
city centre."

Sally nodded. She scarcely cared where it was, although it
might mean it was too far for her to be able to walk home from
school any more. She could hear in the silence vacated by her
stereo system and her father's voice, the gasping and shrieking
coming from her mother's room. So many different voices! And
wasn't one of them a small girl's voice like her own? Perhaps
Mrs Kunson had brought her daughter around to visit. And that
"Wow! Wow!" Wasn't that Sheridan?

"I can hardly wait!" Sally assured her father in all honesty.




For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

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