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Match Made in Heaven (MM tg)
by Syela Shratdeshm (syela@icubed.com) 
Date: 01/26/2000 


     The following is a work of fiction.  I made it up.  If your
jurisdiction forbids you to read depictions of alternative
sexuality, stop reading this article and fight the power instead.


Match Made in Heaven


     "I am so fed up with MEN!!" Cheryl screamed, slamming the door
behind her.  I turned off my light and jumped into bed.  We'd been
roommates for three years now, and I knew to stay out of her way
while she got rid of her anger.  Fifteen minutes later, her punk
music stopped blasting, and I went out to see what was wrong.

     Cheryl was sitting on the couch with her head in her hands.
She was dressed to the nines, but when she looked up, her makeup
was a mess.  "Deb?" she said.  "Were you asleep?  I'm sorry if I--"

     "Don't worry about it."  I sat down beside her.  "What happened?"

     "I walked out on Jeff."  She snarled saying his name.  "What did
I ever see in him anyway?"

     "He's gorgeous."  He was.  "And he has money."

     "Yeah.  Don't remind me."

     "What--"

     "You think he could have bought some personality with that money.
Or something.  Rrrrr!"  I draped my arm over her back to help calm
her down.  She stopped growling.  "God, why can't a man ever be just
right?  It's like the ones that turn me on are all bricks, the ones
that care about me are all wimps, and the ones that make me laugh all
live with their mothers."  She shook her head and sighed.

     I halfway smiled and rubbed her shoulder a little.  "I know
just what you mean."

     Cheryl looked up.  "He took me to Top of the Town, you know.
And he wore a black suit and tie.  I really thought he was doing
it for me.  I thought he cared.  But he just wanted to impress me,
to get me in bed."  She grunted and pounded the cushions.  "I wish
they would just tell you, you know, so you could just fuck the
handsome ones and save your emotions for a man with a heart."

     I pulled her closer.  She hugged me.  "Do you want to talk
about it?" I said.

     She just held me for another minute, then let go.  "I was
trying to have a conversation over dinner.  And he like didn't
want to talk at all.  I don't think he thought it was part of
the bargain.  He didn't ask what movies I liked, or what music
I listen to, or what I planned to do after college--all the
things you'd think he should ask.  When I tried to talk about
my friends--you--or my volunteer work for the environment, he
was so obviously not interested."

     "Sorry," I said.

     "I kept trying to get him to open up, and he kept giving me
these diplomatic responses that meant nothing.  I brought up
health care, and he said--"  She faked a deep voice.  "My father
says it's just one more tax on business."  Cheryl laughed.  "Jeff
didn't say whether that was his opinion or not.  I don't think he
had his own opinions at all!  I told him I didn't want to hear
about his father, and he just shut up!  And ate his dinner, can
you believe it?"

     "So you walked out?"

     "No!  Not quite.  Okay, I'm trying to get him to like show
a pulse, and I ask would he like to go somewhere this weekend.
Because I like to get out of the city so much, you know?  So he
goes, that'd be fine.  So where did he like to go?  And he
doesn't have an answer, as if he's never gone anywhere just
because.  So he goes, well, my father--"

     "Oh, my God!"

     "Right!  So I get up, leave this exquisite dinner behind,
and walk out!  And I'm doing my high-heeled walk, because--"
She started laughing and gestured toward the bookcase.  Her 
best shoes were now on the top shelf.

     "So he could have caught up to you."

     "Right.  But he didn't.  I assume he just ate his fucking
roast beef.  Ooooo!  Men."  She stomped the floor in her stockings,
then leaned back on the couch.  She was done.

     "What now?"

     "Jeff's history.  The rest of them, I don't know.  I can't
give up on them as easily as you have."

     Hey!  "I haven't given up."

     "You've been single for how long?  Two years?"  I had to think
about it.  "See!"

     "Okay.  I might not be looking right now, but if Mr. Right
walked into my life, I wouldn't turn him down." 

     "Mr. Right isn't out there.  Trust me."

     "Don't be so negative, Cheryl.  You're just--"

     "You think he's out there?  What's he like?  Maybe I've seen
him.  Wait; let me start."  She pulled pen and paper out of her purse. 
"Has to have FEELINGS!!" she shouted, and underlined it four times.

     "And a head on his shoulders."

     "And a MIND," she grunted, "of his OWN!"

     "A decent education."

     "And a job."

     I sighed.  "That shouldn't be so hard to find, should it?"

     "Deb, that's just Mr. Okay.  Half the guys I've met lately
don't even make it that far.  Who was it following you around
last semester?"

     "Ron?"

     "Right.  He qualifies, doesn't he?  So why didn't you go
out with him?"

     "No sense of humor."

     "Sense of HUMOR!" she wrote down.  "Okay, what else?"

     "Imagination.  Cares about me as a person.  Tender.  Generous.
Kind."

     "Not a pushover who makes me do everything," said Cheryl,
scribbling furiously.

     "Not a macho man who tries to do everything himself."
I let her catch up and looked over the list.  "There, is that
good enough?"

     "Maybe."  She shrugged.  "I guess I'd go out with him.
But is that the guy you'd really pick to have sex?"

     "That's something different."

     "Okay."  Cheryl readied her pen again.  "Go on."

     "Good-looking.  Athletic."

     "NOT obsessed about sports."

     "Not fat.  Not too skinny.  Not short."

     Cheryl snickered.  "No hair on his back.  Or his butt."

     "Knows how to make himself look good.  Knows how to make
me look good."

     "Knows how to use more than one part of his body in bed."

     "Yes!"  I laughed.  "Wow, that's just too much, isn't it?
You're probably right.  If there was just one guy like that in 
this city, I'd be thrilled."  I shook my head.  "I'm sorry. 
Make that two."

     Cheryl was examining the list.  "If there are, they probably
only have eyes for each other.  Look at this.  Sensitive, intelligent, 
educated, caring, creative, strong but not macho."

     "Handsome, fit, smooth, stylish, and knows how to make love. 
God, why do all the good ones have to be queer?"

     "Well, here's to the happiest couple in the world," Cheryl said.
"I wish us girls could have lovers like you."  She crumpled up the
paper and tossed it aside.  "I'm going to bed.  Good night, Deb."

     "Good night."  I went back to bed, taking off my clothes
first this time.  Cheryl seemed like herself again, but I'd
make sure in the morning.

 * * *

     I woke up feeling hung over.  I didn't remember drinking,
but I must have been plastered the way I needed aspirin and
needed to pee.  I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom,
where this hunk of a man was standing.  He was tan, lean, and
muscular--looked like Cheryl had found her dream man after all.
God, was he handsome.  My hard-on was throbbing.

     "Deb?" he said.  "Is that you?"

     "Of course it's me.  Who are--"

     The man took one long stride over to me and hugged me so
hard I was surprised I could breathe.  "Oh God, let me be
dreaming."

     I ran my hands over his body--delts, traps, lats, glutes.
He had some kind of definition.  "Feels real to me," I said.
His cock started to stiffen, brushing up against mine.  I'd
forgotten I was naked.  Whoever he was, he made me hotter than
hell.  Maybe he was my guy, not Cheryl's, and I'd been too
drunk to remember.

     "I didn't mean," he gasped, "I didn't think--"  His voice
wavered and he started to cry on my shoulder.  "Please, Deb,
please forgive me for what's happened."

     I just massaged his neck for a minute.  If he knew how to
show he was sorry, I wanted to make him feel better.  "Look, 
whatever it was, it's already forgotten."  I did remember 
something about him, though; he felt so familiar.  I couldn't 
have just met him last night.  But last night, my God, last 
night I /had/ heard his voice.  "Cheryl?"

     Whoever it was let go of me and moved half a step back.
I knew those eyes.  He--Cheryl--looked me over and gaped. 
What was the big deal?  She'd seen me naked before.  And I--no.
Wait.  I grabbed Cheryl and held on for dear life.  Her balls
bounced against mine and gave me a charge like I'd never--I'd 
really never, had I?  My God.  I'd changed too.

     "It's okay, Deb," she said in her heavy deep voice.
"Whatever else, we still have each other."  She comforted
me with a kiss and ran her hands over my body--my muscles,
my butt, my asshole, my balls.  God, was she hot for me
all of a sudden.  "I can't believe how handsome you are,"
she said.  "I couldn't have wished for anything more."

     A wish.  It was coming back to me now.  Cheryl had
wished we could have lovers like the fabulous men we 
sketched out on paper.  And we could, now, because now 
we might interest them too.  But she said--did that mean?  
"Cheryl, did you, could we--"

     "You said if Mr. Right showed up, you'd go for it.
What do you think?"  She flexed.  "Aren't we just made for 
each other?"

     Hot animal passion rushed through my veins.  "I forgive
you," I said.  "And I accept you.  You're mine."

     Cheryl pressed her cock against mine and kissed me like 
she never had before.  Like nobody had before, but those guys 
didn't understand me like Cheryl--didn't share my experiences, 
my interests, my tastes.  This was a meeting of equals, of 
lips, and of tongues.  This is what I'd been waiting for my 
whole life.  What Cheryl had been searching for, and now we 
both had it--this--each other.  I grabbed her tight asscheeks 
and started grinding my hips while her big strong hands 
stroked us both into heaven.

FIN

Copyright 1999, 2000 by Syela Shratdeshm.  Permission granted
to propagate this article via ass[m] and to archive it at ASSTR.
All other rights reserved.

My stories available at the Lodge: http://www.icubed.com/~syela/

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