

WARNING: This is a story for adults. If you are under 18, please
stop reading immediately.

This story may be archived on free web sites but is not to be
distributed without the name of the author, changed in any way,
or sold. Please do not re-post without consulting the author.
Copyright 1998 by Jane Urquhart. My web site is at
http://www.asstr.ml.org/~Jane_Urquhart.



DIES IRAE  (FM cons)

by Jane Urquhart



	He hadn't been back home in at least five years--it was easier
for his bachelor brother to visit them in Boston than for him
and his wife to fly off to Texas, and he didn't have any friends
left there--they'd scattered all over the map, left for greener
pastures, just as he had. This time, however, his brother needed
help with some legal stuff--their mother's estate--so he came
down by himself for a couple of days. The city had changed so
much it staggered him. The street names were the same, but that
was all, really.

	He was just killing time that evening, reading the local paper,
when he noticed the story. He remembered her. God, what a shame!
Donations to the breast cancer society. Shit. She didn't deserve
that. So he decided to go to her funeral the next day.

	The priest was good. This eulogy was easy, of course. She'd
done everything a woman ought to. She'd taught school. She'd
married. She'd volunteered for Greenpeace and worked for the
Audubon Society. She's had two kids--grown now, of  course.
She'd worked for the church. She would have. He remembered her.

	He couldn't remember where they'd gone that last night. Some
place they'd danced, he knew that, because he remembered how it
felt to hold her. She was small, and soft. They were only kids,
of course. He was home from graduate school, and she was in Ed
school herself. He'd known her forever, maybe since junior high.
And they'd gone out now and then, over the years.

	After the dance they'd parked someplace out by the lake. People
did that in those days. He remembered that it was warm; the car
windows were down. They talked. Then he put his arm around her
and kissed her. She kissed back with fervor. He remembered. He
was actually shaking with lust. He fumbled with the buttons on
her blouse and got it open. She held her arms up so he could get
at the hook on her bra. He took the bra off and kissed the tops
of her breasts, then down to the nipples. He sucked on them, and
she moaned with pleasure.

	Then he put his hand on her leg, and started to move up. She
stopped him. She just shook her head, and said, "No." He kissed
a nipple again, put his hand back on her knee. "No," she said.

	"Why not?" he'd asked.   

	"Not now," she'd answered. "I'll marry you tomorrow, but I
won't let you do that now."

	He helped her put her bra back on, and she buttoned up. He
drove her home, got out of the car, opened her door and walked
with her to the steps leading in to her parents' house. They
hadn't talked any more. He kissed her goodnight, gently.

	He drove away in turmoil. She was just a girl. Sure, they'd
known each for a long time. But marriage? No way. It wasn't
time. He didn't love her. He liked her, but he didn't love her.

	So the next day he went back to the university. He never saw
her again.

	God, he was a shit! He could have called her. No, better, he
could have written a letter. He could even have gone to see her.
He could have done that, at least. But he hadn't.

	Communion. He couldn't go. Not this time.

            He just left the church and drove back to his
brother's apartment. He packed and went back to Boston. He tried
not to think about her any more. But on the plane he kept
feeling those breasts. He guessed it couldn't have hurt her too
badly, could it? She survived. Got married, had two kids. Lived
a nice life. What the hell, she recovered, if it hurt her. 

	Still, she was a hell of a nice girl. It was a shame. And he
was a shit, no question about it.

				--------END------

Please write to me at janey98@hotmail.com

