Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 fm Teen Auth.  "Mf" Asph Snuff Fant...
   {Authors' Note: Plural, this is fictional fantasy, meaning the
Characters are writing it, together.  In Jr./High School, and they're not
very good at it, but they're practicing erotic/crime novelists, and this is
their first attempt.  Speling and grammar erors are intentional, as always.
(Once I get a chance to proofread) So, bear with us...}
   "Hihin!" I saw it, at the top of his paper.
   "What?"
   [George E.  Dancey]
   "Your name." No idea why I didn't think of it before.  "Look," I covered
up the y on the end.  "See, when we get married, I'll be Mrs.  Dancey. 
But, if you just cut the George off, we could write as just E.  Dance."
   "Okay?" He nodded.
   "Well," I laughed, "I could use my middle name too.  Only I'd be Terry
Dance."
   "Yeah," he shrugged, "I get it.  Like the song?"
   Elvis Costello, mom had a bunch of albums lying around.  Mr.  E.  Dance,
and Miss.  Terry Dance.  I whistled to myself.  Went and got the, album. 
Well Compilation.  Best of, but it wasn't on it.  "The Attractions?" I
think, so I grabbed another case, ran my nail down.  Stuck that back, and
checked another.
   "Ah." [Honkytonk Demos] used, like most of her collection.  Hastings,
that kind of thing.  Movies, too, how she shops.  It's not my favorite
song, but I love the lyrics.  I'm not really into music, but I like the
songs that tell me a story.  I can't really get into it without a good
story, but this one's about, some guy.  I guess, doesn't know anything
about sex, but he wants to.  So bad, it's like driving him crazy.  I'm a
freshman in high School, so at least I can relate.  Sexually active, but
we've got this whole romantic/crime drama thing going on.  Not really
comedy, and kinda tragic, to be honest, but you know what they say: "Write
what you know."
   He had our homework put away, and our notebook out, so I grabbed the
chair.
   "Chance" I popped in the disk, and skipped the first track.  Made
scribbling motions at the page, "We can come up with a better name later."
He shrugged, and put the pen down:
   [Chance
   "Oh!" I swayed.  "Well, I feel so lose tonight, I might fall to pieces."
They drove off, so I staggered up the sidewalk, "So, be prepared to sweep
me out the door!" Made it to the porch.  "And I might be horizontal by the
time the music seaces," fumbled out the keys, "So I better get aqainted
wit'the floor." Wiped my mouth, and the door swung in, almost falling over
the back of the couch.  "Hahahahaha!" Great party!
   "Hullo floorboard once again, how are youoo?" I got my heels back under
me in the hall.
   I found him, hanging in the closet.  "Uh!" I fell sideways out of the
bedroom doorway.  I guess the music stopped, but it took a minute to
process.  A lot longer to deal.  I had to crawl to him, and kick my heels
off before I could climb up enough to find out he was dead.
   "Eddie?" I shook him.  "Oh Eddie." I fell down, and cried for a good
long while before I could even think to call the cops.
   Had to clean up all his drugs, anyway.  While I was at it, I took that,
thing off of him.  And pulled his pants up, fixed his clothes.
   "Huh!" And threw up, a lot.  Almost able to think clearly, waiting for
them to get there.
   It's embarrassing, enough to let them think he just killed himself. 
Knowing what they'd say, I drove him to it.  So sorry for being such a
bitch to him, but I never thought.  I mean, I knew he was kinky, but I had
no idea how bad he gotten.  Better then them knowing, anything about that.
   "E.  Dance." {fm...  Write?  Auth, yeah.  That's it...}
   "Huh."
   "What?"
   "Killed me right off, huh?"
   "Well, I just, I wasn't thinking of you.  You know, I just blurted out a
name."
   I nodded, knowing where that scene came from.  Or one, very much like
it, but I'm dealing.  I swallowed.  "So, where we going with this," looked
up at the top of the page, "Chance?"
   "I don't know, I envisioned like a.  Cross between trailer trash, and
party girl?  Married young, maybe an anchor baby to keep her with her piece
of shit husband, but."
   "How young?" I interrupted.
   "I don't know.  Fresh out of high school, underage drinking, at parties.
Uh, seventeen to nineteen?"
   "Which one?" I set the pen down, and sat up.
   "I mean, shotgun wedding at seventeen, married a couple years, baby.  I
guess it'd be easy to write in a baby right now," she picked up the
notebook, "Uhm," read it over, quickly.  "Yeah, she didn't mention it, but,
she could be asleep in the other room."
   I nodded, "Trailer, or apartment?"
   "Doesn't matter, we can work on the setting, but 2 bedroom." She
thought, "So, yeah, apartment." Scribbled in notes.
   "Well, write what you know," I got up, stretched, and rubbed my back. 
"You ever live in a trailer?  Me neither." I looked around, even our
teachers said we need to work on our description.  "So," I went out on the
porch, and grabbed our pack of smokes.  No balcony.  Waited for her to come
out, made a lap.
   "Huh!  Thanks." She handed it back.  Full flavor, but we only smoke half
of one anyway.
   "So, what's the mystery?"
   "I'm thinking about it.  More revenge, really.  But I thought, what
hasn't been done yet, as a protagonist?"
   "A teenage party slut," that's for damned sure.  She nodded.  She's
sexist, to everyone.  Me too, I guess, can't really see which one's worse,
men, or women.  Like we're any better, but it makes for great stories.
:
   Jump Up (FMf, NS?  "Well, probably some sexually explicit language."
   "Yeah.")
   "Uh?" Great cops.  By the look of them.  "Snh!" I wiped my eyes, and
opened it up to the chain.  "Yes?"
   "Chance Davis?"
   "Uh huh?" I looked back, at the ashtray.  Still smoking, but starting to
go out.
   The woman sniffed.  "It's okay, we're not NARCs.  We're here about your
husband?"
   "Yeah, Uh.  Let me straighten up, a minute?" I just shut it, and put out
the roach.  Rubbed my face, "So not ready for this shit," but dropped it in
the tin, and the tin in the drawer before I undid the chain, and let them
in.
   "Don't worry about the pot.  Just sit down, relax."
   "You mind if I look around?"
   "YeAh!"
   "At the crime-scene," he pointed.  "I can go get a warrant."
   "You're gonna have to, because I don't want some man, going through my
things!"
   "Max.  She's right, why don't you go out for a while.  I can handle
this."
   "All right," but he kept looking around, all the way to the door. 
Pulled out his phone.
   "Thanks," I relaxed, my arms around my knees, a little.
   "I understand, having a man around.  Have you been shut in here, the
whole time?"
   "Since it happened, I can't." Deal.
   "It's all right, and substance abuse isn't uncommon either, after a
traumatic event."
   "I'm getting cleaned up," AA, "I just need a joint now and then, to take
the edge off.  You a therapist, too?" Talked like one, "Actually, Uh." I
sat up, "Can I see some ID, or something?"
   "Sure," she pulled out her jacket, "No, I'm not a therapist, but I've
seen quite a few cases," Like this?  "And, I'm seeing one, for some of
them."
   "Tough job, Detective?"
   "I can't," she nodded, eye-to eye, "Legally talk about, any of my
cases."
   "Okay!" Jesus!
   "But I can talk with you, about your case, with strict confidence that I
won't share any details, unless they're pertinent to the case."
   "Criminal case?  What kind of case?  I know suicide is a crime, but I
can't help feel like you're treating me like a victim."
   "I'm sorry, like victims, people close to the case can feel a lot of the
same effects, like secondary, and tertiary victims.  And non-victims,
family, and loved ones, but we haven't closed it as a suicide yet.  It's
still an active case, and we still have to rule out some possibilities,
before we can do that."
   "Like what?"
   "Well, I have to ask you some followup questions." She got out her
phone. Big phone, not quite a Tablet, but bigger than her badge, and the
big wallet thing she carried it in.  With her ID, detected, probably her
partner too.  "Now, forgive me if these are personal, or painful, and take
as long as you need." She looked back at her phone, and read.  "Did you
have any sexual activity with the deceased," she looked back.  "The day, or
night when it happened?" Not sure if it was to catch me in a lie, or watch
me.  Think about what she said.  "No, we hadn't been.  Sexually active, for
quite a while before that."
   "Well, there was evidence of it, found on the body in examination."
   "What?" She put held the phone on her leg.  "Evidence of what?"
   "Sexual activity."
   "I knew it!  I knew that fucker was cheating on me, I just never could
prove it!"
   "Chance?"
   "Yeah?  Sorry." I sat back down.  "Let me explain," I took a breath, "We
weren't married like that, no more.  He, uh.  He wasn't, doing me." I
wasn't looking at her.  "Any more."
   "How long?"
   "I don't know, I guess it's been a month or two now."
   "May I ask, why you stopped?"
   "You just asked, but." How do I put this, "I don't feel comfortable,
talking about it right now." To a cop.
   "I understand," but a woman cop, at least.  "We can get back to it, he
didn't abuse you?"
   "Why?"
   She looked down, and I stopped hugging the legs of my PJs, quite so
tight.  And bouncing my toes on the end of the cushion.
   "Okay, don't tell nobody nothin, but." I looked at the door, "I mean
your partner, especially, but he was.  Kinda kinky, in bed."
   "Kinky like spanking, or anal?" I wrinkled my nose.
   "Worse."
   "Bondage, pain?"
   "He liked me biting his nipples, hard."
   "Explains the genital bondage."
   "Why'd you say anal?"
   "They found signs of.  Anal penetration?"
   "On him?"
   She shook her head.
   "In him!?"
   She half nodded, once.
   "EW!" fuck!  "I really had no idea how bad he'd gotten."
   "Did he, mutilate himself?
   "Yeah, burned himself, with cigarettes." I thought it was, Impressive,
the first time, "But he was just showing off."
   "You thought."
   "Yeah, well he wanted me to get all whip me beat me in bed, too."
   "But you wouldn't consent to that?'
   "Yeah.  No, I mean, yeah I tried it, but." I shook my head, took a
breath.  "I couldn't stop laughing.  It ruined the mood, for both of us,
so. I didn't know he was still into it."
   "So, you think he might have continued, such play with his mistress."
   "What did you find on him, anyway?"
   "Saliva.  Uh.  I can't really share evidence with you.  I'm sorry, I'm
just here to question you, but." She underestimated me.
   "What about fingerprints?  I can give you a 10 sheet, if you haven't
pulled my record, but are you investigating this as a homicide?  Look, you
could write a book about all I don't know about Police Proceidure, but I've
been questioned, and I have heard of a Homicide detective.  Am I a suspect?
'cause I sure ain't never heard of no Suicide Detective."
   "Well, if you want to rule yourself out," she pulled a plastic thing out
of her jacket.  "I can take a cheek swab, and rule you out of suspicion
today."
   "A cheek swab?" Looked like a footlong tampon until she tore the end
off, and pulled out the longest Q tip I ever seen.
   "Yeah, just let me wipe the inside of your cheek, and I'll take it with
me to the lab." She pulled the tiny, thimble sized plastic cup out to the
end, and flipped a cap over it.  Stuck it in the plastic straw, cover
thing. There was a ziplock she pulled over with her thumbnail.
   "Don't you have to wear gloves?"
   "Not with these," she pulled out a pen, and clicked it to start writing.
On her fingers, stuck under the label, like she done this a hundred times
before.
   "You done?"
   "If I have any further questions, I can call you.  You want my card, in
case you think of something, and need to call me."
   ;
   {>| At the end of Wave a White Flag.  If you ever read this again, just
put it on, and leave it on the whole time.  (Elvis Costello - Honky Tonk
Demos.}
   Terry Dance (FB Cons Fant)
   I stopped rubbing his back, and made my way down to his pants.
   "Ready to take a break?" He dropped the pen, and folded the notebook
over it.
   "Yeah," by which we mean horny AF?
   "Here," I pulled out his zipper, "Let's see what we got here."
   He'd grown a lot, but he's 12.  Gonna turn thirteen at some point, I
know middle school boys, but we have issues.
   Our issues have issues.
   He just watched my face, I grinned back.
   Got some hair on it, not a lot, but some.  I remember his first one, he
showed me it, damn near the crack of his ass, and playing with it.  Slipped
my hand in to roll his balls/bag out, but kept them in there, and jently
probed his crack with my fingertip.  I've got another hand, to slip my
thumb under, and pull the skin out, sideways under my flattened fingers. 
"Hh," I slipped my thumb back, to hook it over at the base, the way he
can't.  Not without reaching across, and probably breaking his wrist in the
process.  A little tip for the girls, don't jerk him the way he does, do it
the way he can't.  And Gay/NAMBLA guys too, I guess.
   "Snh!" Cross my legs, to put my elbow down, before my arm gets tired.
   "Hhuh!" He nodded, eyes closed.
   I kept it up, a quick pace to finish him quickly.  And thought, where to
go from here.  Time for more characters, or hirstory on Chance?  Grace? 
No, just an every day, lower class name.  Chase, no that's a bank.  More
country, or outskirts of town.
   Feel like I'm going insane from talkin' to myself for so long.
   Shake my head.
   "Uh!" try to concentrate on the task at hand, so he'll stop humping the
mattress, but.  I've got to do better than Chance.
   "Hn!"
   "Ready?" He scrunched his eyes nodding, so I held it down.  Slipped my
finger out of his crack, and flipped the other one over, to rub under the
tip with the print of my thumb.  "Now."
   "HhuhH!" He shivered, and I caught the first spurt in my palm.  Watched
it splash out, until it was dribbling in my fingers.  "HhahH!" He panted,
and caught his breath.  I pulled out my shirt at the hip, and wiped it off
on the hem.  Left it out to dry, while he tucked in, and zipped up his
pants.  "Feel better?" I leaned down, kissed him until he smiled.
   "Heah." He nodded.
   "How about Seth?"
   "Who's Seth?"
   "I don't know," I turned back to the CD player.
   {If you're old enough to read this, I'll just blithely assume you know
what a CD player is, and are familiar with the controls.
   >}
   Blame it on Cain (fm Cons.)
   "Yeah?"
   "Seth?" Rubbed my eyes.
   "Yeah, who's this?"
   "Chase?" Blinked.  Yeah, I gave her my number.
   "Chase?" but I never thought she'd call it.
   "How do you, not drink?"
   "Huh, one day at a time." Isn't that what they say?  "Why, you feeling
tempted?"
   "I had a bad day."
   "How bad?"
   "Well, I had to talk to a cop, so, not great, how about you?"
   "Well, you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"
   "Coffee?"
   "Well, since you asked." What time is it?  "Yearh!  It's like tapping
pens when you're trying to quit smoking.  You can still drink coffee. 
Maybe grab some breakfast?"
   "Yeah, I'd like that.  You want to come pick me up?"
   "You don't have a car?"
   "Nah, let me give you my address."
   It wasn't far, so I found a clean shirt, and wet my hand to at least
slick my hair back, it dried on the way.
   She called back, so I put it on bluetooth.
   "Hey."
   "What's up?"
   "You're sober, right?"
   "Yeah," almost, "eight months."
   "Good."
   "Why?"
   "Well, my boyfriend was killed, driving drunk."
   "Well, that explains," why she's single.  "Why you decided to get on the
wagon."
   "Yeah.  Uh, well I was looking through the book.  And you mind if I ask
you a question?"
   "Shoot."
   "How cum we can't have sex?"
   "Ahuh!  Excuse me?" I cleared my throat, "Well, sex addiction is a
thing. Huh, they don't want us getting off the bottle, just to jump on
another, horse." So to speak.  Rubbed my eye again.
   "Oh," Shake my head.  "Well, get here safe."
   "Rodger." Not like I didn't think about, it.  Been a while, since the
divorce.  They're right, you know, but.  "Huh!" I could think about a,
rebound girl now.  Right?
   She met me at the door, with a cup of coffee.
   "You take it black?"
   In a bathrobe, and a towel around her hair.
   "A little cream, and sugar."
   "I made a pot," I followed her into the kitchen.
   A short robe, "I ain't got cream, or half and half, but I got some
milk."
   "That's fine." I nodded.  And a pair of underpants.
   "How do you like your eggs?"
   "Over easy?"
   She set the carton on the stove.  "I'm gonna go dry my hair."
   I checked the fridge.  "Uh, you mind if i scramble some sausage too?"
Bag of shredded cheese.
   "Nah, go ahead."
   {>| Right at the end of Poison Moon.  I'll pick it up in the mornin'...}
   ;
  
Terry (Dance)