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Deja Vu by Ann Douglas (mf) 6/10
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: AnnD: REPOST: Deja Vu - (06/10) - mf
Date: Thu Jul 6 05:14:45 1995
Hi ...... As always, comments are both appreciated and
encouraged. Tell me what you liked about the story and what
you disliked. Don't just say , "nice story" or "it stunk" I
only ask that you reply by e-mail instead of postings, that
way I'm sure to get your reaction. Any and all email will
always be answered.
Thanks,
Ann Douglas.
-DEJA VU-
Part Six
by Ann Douglas
(AnnD@NYCPipeline.Com)
"Hi Jim!" He called out as he and Connie stepped out the door
into the driveway.
"Hey there, Johnny!" Came the reply as he waved. "Looks like
I wasted the trip." He added as he pointed to the green Ford
in the end of the driveway.
Johnny's eyes followed Jim's pointed hand until they came to
his car just sitting there. He had forgotten that he'd told
Connie that his car was going into the shop. Nothing was
wrong with it, but he had figured saying there was would make
sure they spent the night at his house rather than going out.
"It turned out to be a quick fix." Johnny replied. "Looks
like I lucked out."
"Hey, if you want to take Connie home, I don't mind." Jim
offered.
"No, its ok, you're here and all." Johnny countered.
Connie looked at him in renewed
disappointment. If he had driven her home it would've given
them a chance to talk. Now she couldn't even do that.
"I'll give you a call as soon as I can, ok?" Johnny said to
Connie as he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Ok, sure." Connie replied, now even more confused by his
platonic action. "And it better be soon," She thought to
herself because we definitely have to talk."
With that she ran to the car where her brother was waiting
with the door open. Connie stared at Johnny while Jim closed
the door behind her and walked over to the driver's side.
Watching Jim get into the car and put it in gear, Johnny
thought Connie might have found his goodnight kiss a little
strange. But there was no way he was going to let her
suddenly throw her arms around him and give him a lover's
kiss. Not when that might leave her big brother with exactly
the right impression.
Looking out the back window as the image of Johnny standing
in the driveway faded in the distance, one thought repeated
over and over in Connie's mind. They were definitely going to
have to have a long long talk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Oh Johnny." Connie murmured as she
opened her eyes as took in her surroundings in a half daze.
She realized that she had fallen asleep in her chair. The
morning light was already filtering in through the windows. It
was already Saturday morning.
Wiping the last of the sleep from her eyes, Connie looked
down at the picture in her lap. It had been a long time since
she had dreamed of that night.
"We never did get to have that talk, did we, Johnny?" She
said to the image of her long lost love.
No, they never did.
Four weeks after that fateful night, Connie was devastated
when it was announced that Johnny had married Susan Marziatto.
She'd seen Sue hanging around the band at several
performances. They went to the same high school and were only
five months apart in age. Seen the way that flat chested hussy
had looked at Johnny and the other Bluecoats, like a lost
puppy.
At the time, she couldn't understand how Johnny could've done
that to her. How could he have betrayed her love and married
such an unremarkable girl as Sue.
Six months later she had her answer with the birth of Mario
John Coravelli. Sue had been three months pregnant when
they'd been married. The birth of their son also closed the
final chapter for Johnny and the Bluecoats.
Johnny Coravelli had made many mistakes in his 19 years, but
none greater than knocking up the daughter of Jim "The Banker"
Marziatto. The local hood may have been forced to accept
Johnny into his family in order to preserve his daughter's
honor, but having his reluctant son in law continue as some
god forsaken Rock N' Roller was too much for the old Sicilian.
Within two weeks of the wedding, Johnny was informed that he
was now working for the families legitimate lumber business.
Given the option of several broken limbs or giving up his
career, Johnny had made the choice that kept all his body
parts intact. It had been made clear to the young man that
now that little Sue had a wedding certificate and a last name
to go with the baby, a live husband was no longer an important
consideration.
Johnny's marriage had lasted less than two months after they
buried the old man in early 1960. By that time, Connie was
herself the mother of a sixteen month old son, having married
Vinnie D'Angelo in 1958. Like Susan Marziatto, she had raced
the stork to the altar.
Unlike the Marziatto's, The D'Angelo's had a happy marriage
that lasted 24 years. A life Connie wouldn't have traded for a
room full of gold records.
The chimes of the wall clock struck eight and Connie rose
from her chair. Time to start the day. Leaving her mementos
were they lay, she tied the sash of the bathrobe she had been
wearing the night before and headed for the kitchen. A quick
breakfast of coffee and muffins followed. Her daughter Angela
had once suggested that Connie should think about hiring a
woman, someone to do the cooking and housecleaning. But Connie
had quickly put a stop to the idea. She was far too
independent and set in her ways.
After clearing the breakfast dishes, Connie headed for the
master bathroom for a quick shower. She was about to turn on
the water when she changed her mind. Her back hurt a little
after spending the night in that chair. A bath would feel
better than a shower. She had plenty of time, the guy from
the agency wasn't due until after lunch.
Five minutes later, Connie eased herself into the oversized
sunken tub that had been a birthday gift from Vinnie many
years ago. The heat of the water felt good as it penetrated
her body. The tub was wide and long enough that she could
stretch her whole body out.
After a few minutes of just soaking, Connie began to wash
with a large bar of perfumed soap. The hot water felt good as
it splashed across Connie's breasts. She ran her soapy fingers
across her large mounds, playing with her nipples. As always,
it felt good.
Connie slid the bar of soap down between her legs and began
rubbing the wet mound. Letting the yellow bar float free, she
slipped a finger inside herself, uttering a soft moan as she
did. A second finger followed, and then a third. Soon she was
furiously pumping them in and out. While the warm water and
her fingers caressed her love canal, her thumb played against
her clit. Four decades of familiarity with her own body bought
her quickly to the edge of bliss.
The 54 year old leaned back against the soft plastic cushion
built against the head of the tub, her eyes closed, lost in
the moment. Her thoughts again began drifted back to that
warm June night 39 years before. Of love lost and desire
unfulfilled.
It wasn't long before Connie's body began to trembled as her
orgasm was upon her. Her mouth formed a silent O as her legs
and arms grew weak and repeated waves of delight rippled up
and down her naked form.
For long moments she just drifted there, even after her
bodyquake had ceased. She just listened to the twin sounds of
her heartbeat and the gentle flow of the water as it bounced
off her. Those first moments after an orgasm were meant to be
relished. As Connie had grown older and come into her sexual
prime, she discovered that her climaxes had become more and
more intense. Even now, years later, they still were.
Ann Douglas
Ann Douglas
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