.
                                                  ::

                                            as falls cuyahoga,
                                      so falls cuyahoga falls

                                                  ::

Addison is naked again, lying back in Edie's arms, between Edie's
spread bare legs. Edie in a T-shirt, nothing more, nuzzling
Addison's short blond hair. Addison's legs spread, feet tucked up
and hooked around Edie's feet, toes stroking lightly Edie's sole.
On the bed before her a slim white laptop.

Mister Tisdale is a creep, says Edie. We should do him next.

No, says Addison, typing.

Why not?

Shut up. Hang on.

I think, says Edie, kissing the back of Addison's neck, we should
make him suck somebody's dick. I think we should make him suck
your aunt's boyfriend's dick. The hustler. One hand on Addison's
belly as she types, the other on Addison's knee.

First of all, says Addison, we don't have anything on Mister
Tisdale.

There's your sister -

And second of all, Addison says, turning to look back at Edie, it
wouldn't be any fun.

Yes it would.

Do you want to watch creepy Mister Tisdale suck somebody off?

Oh, says Edie.

Oh, says Addison. Nips back to kiss Edie's lips. Now, Charley
Vanderhook, she starts to say.

Charley Vanderhook's a hottie, says Edie, grinning.

Charley Vanderhook's a stuck-up know-it-all prig.

Yeah, but she's hot.

And she's online, says Addison, pointing to the computer screen.
A window's open there, and in the window is a grainy but bright
enough shot of a room, part of a bed, a desk, a computer, a
poster on the wall, a violin washing ashore, roses.

I did good, says Edie, both hands on Addison's knees now,
stroking.

You did good, says Addison, eyes on the screen. Biting her lower
lip. Her weight shifting, legs falling open a little more. Foot
sliding on the sheets, near the phone, the coil of cord. Edie's
hands along Addison's thighs now, stroking, Edie's mouth on
Addison's throat, her shoulder, her ear, her cheek, the corner of
her half-open mouth. Am I doing good now? says Edie.

Yes, says Addison, distracted.

You ready?

This was your idea.

Yeah, but are you ready?

Check and see.

Edie's fingers gently float over the lips of Addison's cunt.
Lightly. One finger, the middle finger, crooking, diddling.
Playing games, then slipping. Addison, smiling, takes a sudden
breath. Edie's hand now resting, palm on the nest of dirty blond
hair, her finger sunk within. Mmm, says Edie. Yes. Yes, I think
you are.

What, says Addison, into their kiss, what time is it?

Shit, says Edie, stirring.

No, says Addison, hand on Edie's wrist. Leave it. Leave it there.
She takes a deep breath, her other hand on the phone.
Inspiration, she says.

Charley Vanderhook, walking down the hall, one of those stiff
priority mail envelopes in one hand, a backpack in the shape of a
dumpily cynical penguin over one shoulder. Charley, floats her
mother's voice up through the stairwell. Charley opens the door
to her room and whirls inside and shuts it, her back to it,
leaning against it. After a moment, locking it.

The envelope and the backpack, lying on her bed.

She looks at her watch.

The envelope chirps. She jumps. It chirps again, and she grabs
it, hands shaking, fumbles for the zip strip. Finds it. Shreds it
in her haste to get it open. Rips it. Out falls a cell phone,
tiny, chirping.

Dropping the envelope, stooping to pick it up. It chirps again.
One hand hovering hesitantly over the keypad. It chirps again.
She stabs a button, lifts it to her ear. Hello? Hello?

Charley, says a voice, a deep voice, a mechanical voice. Did you
do what you were supposed to?

Who is this?

Did you get it, Charley?

Charley nods, swallows. Says, Yes. Yes, I, I did.

Where is it, Charley? In your backpack? Tucked away where nobody
can see it? Mechanical in pitch and timbre, mocking in tone.

I got it, says Charley.

Prove it, says the voice. Take it out.

Shaking hands. Charley unsnaps the beak of her flat phlegmatic
penguin and opens the head. Lifts the feet so a notebook tips out
followed by a paperback about galaxies a paperback about
dictionaries and with a slither a magazine. She picks up the
magazine. Brightly colored. Lurid. On the back, an ad. Find out
why we get straight A's. A girl, thumb in her mouth, elbows on
pillows, staring out with lust-drunk eyes. Another girl kneeling
behind her, eyes closed, biting the ass held high in the air.
1-800-TEEN-WET. Little flowers sprinkled across the letters.
There's a knock on the door. Charley jumps and drops the magazine
on the bed. Mom! she says. I'm busy!

Just let me know if you want some cookies or something, says her
mother through the door.

Some cookies, says the voice, chuckling. A grating chuckle.
That's so sweet. Is it out, Charley?

Yes, says Charley, reaching out, turning it over. Girls of Barely
Legal, it says. I'll lick you good, it says. A girl
bare-breasted, black thong stringing her hips, sits in the lap of
a short-haired girl in a grey tank top, her mouth open, waiting.
Rimjob princess craves chocolate kisses, it says. Junior
Satanist's plea: Will you bang the hell out of me? its says.
Fourteen naked nubiles packed tight in special flesh-crammed
issue.

Open it up, Charley.

Charley reaches out hand hovering over four-color glossy magazine
skin, a back curled in anticipation, girls' eyes locked on each
other. Charley touches it, thumb-and-forefingers it, turns it.
Pastel green then, photos scattered, naked girls one kneeling
over the other's face, a girl scowling naked at the camera hips
thrust forward, fingers peeling her cunt apart, a girl licking
another girl's pussy, eyes up and wondering, a confusion of arms
and legs and skin and underwear. Charley? says the voice, rough.

Yes... says Charley. Trembling, one hand hovering over the page.

Is it the table of contents?

Yes, says Charley. There's an ad opposite, a young girl, short
blond hair, laughing naked as she spreads her arms, surrounded by
big cartoony pink and blue letters. School's out and I'm ready to
cum! Only 95 cents a minute!

What does it say is on page four?

Carolyn and Ivy, says Charley.

That's not all it says, Charley. Read it all to me.

Swallowing, Charley says, Carolyn and Ivy, and then she says,
Slumber party tramps. She squeezes her eyes shut. There, she says
into the cell phone. There. I got it. I proved it. So leave me
alone!

Oh, we're not done yet, Charley.

Yes we are!

No, Charley. Turn to page four. Turn to page four and you'll see
a girl who looks a lot like you. Go on, Charley. She has long
blond hair like yours, and little tits like yours, and enough of
an ass to make me want it. Like you, Charley. Are you looking at
her? Because you know what's going to happen when they find out
you cheated on Hannigan's final last term?

Charley's eyes are shut tight squeezing tears down either cheek.

What's going to happen, says the voice, is you can kiss
valedictorian goodbye. You can kiss Stanford goodbye. You can
fuck off all the music lessons you want because it'll never do
you any good any more. You'll never get into a good school and
you'll never get a decent job and you're going to end up someday
just like her with your face in somebody's cunt while somebody's
takes pictures. 

And Charley takes a deep breath ragged with a sob.

But Charley? Charley? That doesn't have to happen. Okay? That
doesn't have to happen. Just turn to page four and do as I say.

And Charley reaches out and turns the page.

Two girls, blond hair flying, pillow fighting in pyjamas.
Kissing. Tumbling on a bed littered with stuffed animals. One
girl on her back, the other over her, hips over her face.
Reaching up to pry aside white underwear, a slice of pussy, red,
folded.

See? says the voice. She does look like you, a little.

Charley takes another ragged breath, wiping her cheeks with the
back of the hand that isn't holding the phone.

Now read to me what it says, Charley. Read it out loud to me. Go
on, Charley. Start with the title.

Carolyn and Ivy, says Charley, her breath hucking. Slumber party
tramps. Carolyn, she says, Carolyn and Ivy planned a slumber
party, but no one came. For, for most, for most eighteen-year-old
girls, this would spell, and she stops.

Charley?

Deep breath. This would spell social disaster, says Charley, but
Ivy was secretly glad.

I bet you're secretly glad, too, aren't you, Charley.

Ivy had long ago lost her, her innocence, says Charley, but she
had yet to cross the line into feverish, aheh. I. I -

Come on, Charley. You've got Advanced Acting with Germaine next
term. Sixth period. You can do better than this. You'd better do
better.

Sitting up then, Charley leaning over the magazine, scooping her
hair out of the way with her other hand. She had yet to cross the
line into feverish, mound-banging girl-lust, says Charley, all in
a rush. A gasp, almost a giggle, and then, deep breath, Ivy had
wondered what it was like between Carolyn's sweet, toned thighs
ever since they danced at graduation last month. Charley licks
her lips, her hand covering a photo of one girl licking the
other's finger as Charley's finger follows the words she reads.
The curious slut, the curious slut thought she'd have to lube
Carolyn with liquor before she could make her big, her big
seduction move, but after their breathless, giggly pillow fight,
Ivy found that Carolyn had, and Charley took another deep breath,
had dabbled in girl-love before. There. That's enough. That's it.
We're done.

But we're just getting to the good part, Charley.

Who are you?

Keep reading, Charley.

No, I mean, who are you? Maybe there's something else I can do, I
don't know, I just -

Keep reading.

Swallow. Tongue, touching lips again. Ivy could tell, says
Charley. Ivy could tell by the way Carolyn sucked her nipples,
biting - biting a little as she sucked. I can't.

Charley.

I can't.

You like having your nipples bitten, don't you, Charley.

No.

You've had your nipples bitten, haven't you, Charley.

No! No. No, I haven't.

I think you're enjoying this, Charley.

No!

What are you wearing?

Charley's eyes get wide. No, she says. No. It's just the
magazine. That's all you said I had to do, it's just the
magazine.

What are you wearing, Charley? Or do we have to go over the whole
Hannigan final again?

Eyes closed. A skirt, says Charley. A skirt, and a T-shirt.

Take off the skirt, Charley. Take it off. Take off the skirt,
Charley. I'm not going to ask you again.

Fabric rustles as Charley slides to the edge of the bed and
lowers her feet and stands. Is still a moment, her hand on the
snap at the waistband of her skirt. She sits down again,
rustling. Okay, she says. It's. It's off.

No it isn't.

Yes, it is. It is.

No. It isn't.

It is, I tell you! Fist balled up face scrunched up a moment,
yelling at the little phone pressed to the side of her head. It
is!

And I know that you are lying to me, Charley. Aren't you.

Charley's head looks one way, looks another, at nothing in
particular.

Aren't you.

Hey, whispers Edie in Addison's ear. Hey This is enough.

Addison's hand comes up from Edie's hand in her lap to cover the
mouthpiece. No, she breathes. Fuck, no. She's into it. Look at
her. Look.

On the computer screen, Charley's free hand comes up, jerking,
and down again. She stands. Sits. Stands again, taking two steps
away from the bed.

Take it off, Charley. Take off your skirt.

Charley's hand at her waist. A snap. The skirt falls with a
wiggle to her hips. Charley tugs. It falls.

There. That wasn't so hard, was it.

Who are you?

Now sit back on the bed, Charley. I want you to read me some more
of the magazine. I like it when you read.

Charley, climbing back onto the bed. Looks at her window, gauzy
drapes half-closed. You can see me. You have a telescope or
something.

I don't need a telescope. Get the magazine, Charley. Get the
magazine. We both know why you're doing this now. It has nothing
to do with Hannigan.

What are you talking about? says Charley.

Put your hand in your panties. Put your hand inside your panties
and touch yourself and tell me.

I -

You're wet, Charley. You're turned on. You're either a raging
lesbo or a complete tool or both all at once.

I -

Finger yourself, Charley. Put your hand in your panties and
finger yourself. Read to me and make yourself come, Charley. Do
it. Do it now.

Charley's underwear is white and cotton and her fingers are
dipping between scalloped elastic and belly-flesh.

I can't hear you, Charley.

A shuddering breath. Oh, God.

Come on, Charley. Read to me.

Ivy could tell - Ivy could tell. Carolyn had gone, had probably
gone down on a lot of girls how else could she - How else would
she have, have known how to -

Knuckles distending the cotton. Her underwear bulges, pulls away.
Settles. Her fingers working there, her eyes half closed, her
other hand still holding the phone to her ear.

How else, Charley? How else could she know?

How else, says Charley, could she have known how to eat hole so
well? Swallow. Ivy had never - Ivy had never - Ivy had never come
- come, the way she did when Carolyn stuck two -

Go on, Charley. Two fingers.

- two, then three fingers -

Can you? Three? Go on. Charley's under bunching as she shuddering
pushes, presses, sighs, oh.

- three fingers, three fingers, oh, three fingers inside her,
probing way up inside, way up inside, way up inside until she
found her, heh, oh, her secret God her secret girl-spot. Hunh.
When. When. When Carolyn banged Ivy's hidden joy buzzer. When,
oh. When Carolyn banged Ivy's hidden joy buzzer, Ivy, Ivy. Ivy
came. Coming. Ivy. Oh. Oh, oh. Coming. Ivy squirted hot juice
just like a boy. Oh -

And Charley shakes, her eyes squeezed shut. Magazine forgotten or
at least no longer important.

And that, says Addison, that's just the first set of pictures,
says the voice on the phone.

Charley's leaning back against her pillows, under her poster, the
violin washing ashore, a tangle of wild tea-roses wrapped around
it. Her hand still in her underwear, stroking, gently. The
magazine lying open beside her. A page flops unnoticed, kissing,
a mouth caught in the act of licking a breast for the first time.

We'll talk later, says Addison. The cell phone tumbles from
Charley's rubbery fingers. Addison hangs up her phone.

You are the coolest, says Edie, kissing the back of Addison's
shoulder, as Addison flips a switch on the box the phone's jacked
into and rolls over on top of Edie. Kissing her, great deep
rolling kisses, licking up her mouth.

God bless Radio Shack, says Addison, as Edie groans.

                                                  ::
                                                  
                                            as falls cuyahoga,
                                      so falls cuyahoga falls
                                             an object lesson.006
                                                 
                                                          --n.
                                                  ::
                                                  
http://www.asstr.org/~nickurfe/
http://www.ruthiesclub.com/
nickurfe@yahoo.com

This story may be freely circulated by anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Photos and copy courtesy Hustler's Girls of Barely Legal,
Vol. 18.

.