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Plans for a Naughty Visit - Part 2
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.
A while ago, I posted "Plans for a Naughty Visit" to alt.sex.exhbitionism.
I've been asked to report on how things went. To avoid requests for the first
part, I've just sent that off as well. I've decided to post this to
alt.sex.stories as well - once.
The first thing you should know is that I messed up the first posting, because
reformatting put a sequence of dashes at the start of one line, and that killed
the rest of the transmission. While I re-sent the affected file including the
removed portion, some people didn't realize that, so I've included
the missing portion here first, before giving the report. I might as well say
at this point, though, that the weather was great for the visit, and that I felt
rather depressed after the time for the visit was past - as she remarked at one
point, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Actually, she was such
an incredible woman that it would take much more than a single lifetime to meet
her like again.
Second and Final Part
For this to make sense to you, dear reader, you really should
have read the first part. If that's not possible, know that these
are true plans for the visit of a stunning young woman and closet
exhibitionist to my campus, where she and I plan to let her carry
out a variety of exhibitionist stunts, as a memento for her to keep
and for me to treasure) when she is married and 'respectable'. As
before, her comments are indented, and the text is a weaving
together of e-mail messages. Comments to you are in [] brackets,
and minor superficial details have been changed.
Rolling Stones Mall, and Kiddie Kraft Shoes (perhaps)
This is a pretty standard mall, one where I often shop. It does
have a few levels and a place where one's skirt can be looked up if
one is not careful. It also has a small designated No Smoking area
for eating, completely surrounding an area of seats for smokers -
an attempt to convince state legislators that they don't need to
worry about proper legislation.
[I did not tell her that I planned to have her stand very close to
a railing on the second floor balcony of the mall, looking down at
the people passing below, and wait for me to appear with The Bag
downstairs, getting great shots up her skirt. Instead of appearing
below, however, I was going to approach her quietly from behind, as
she stood exposing her pussy and, in an altered voice quietly say
"You're under arrest - Don't move! We've already got your
friend.", and then let her arrange something to get out of her
dilemma, perhaps with her being frisked in a remote corner of the
parking lot. Naturally, I'd have to check out all of the places
where a weapon might be stored, or welcomed. I would NOT have done
this except that she clearly expressed an interest in her comments
in being in potentially embarrassing situations.]
One store my family has patronized for years is Kiddie Kraft Shoes.
I used to worry about the owner, also called Bruce, who seems like
a possibly gay little guy (bald, roly-poly, bearded, one earring).
In fact, he is very straight and very sweet and we swap dirty or
funny tales from time to time, even though my kids' feet no longer
need him. Bruce also stocks some adult wear.
On a day when I know he will be there (if I can learn that without
being in the least conspicuous about it), the above gorgeous slut
with either no or very cheap jewellery enters his store and sits
down. She lets Bruce know (as soon as she opens her mouth) that
she's from the east and she's heard (correctly) that he has the
best store for kids' shoes around. She wonders about some shoes
for her kids and herself ('but could you please measure my foot?').
If she feels like doing anything more than merely flashing poor
Bruce (who will love it, even as he perhaps hopes not to have a
heart attack, or to have his wife walk in), she might say that
while his shoes are indeed good and a fair price, she can't afford
them and is there 'anything' she can do, say to get a pair of shoes
free when she brings her daughter next week?
After she leaves and Bruce recovers a bit, in walks his old buddy,
the prof. Just as they're starting to chat, SHE returns and hangs
around, obviously also wanting to chat a bit more. She or Bruce
interrupts the chat for perhaps a whispered comment or two, and
then she leaves, swinging her bum and perhaps even stroking it.
Whew! The prof responds "Damn, what a woman! - and she seems to
like you!" and then lets Bruce tell him whatever Bruce feels like.
Of course the prof, being the soul of discretion, never tells
anyone what Bruce says, at least not at that very moment.
You said 'Perhaps?'. No, definitely! I love to do shoe store
teases and this one sounds great if you can set it up with the
Other Bruce. I don't know about the baldness of hinting that
I'll fuck or suck in return for free shoes, but I could put on
a tease instead that'll certainly determine whether he's gay
or not.
I was really drawn to the idea of teasing him, then getting
him to discuss it with you so you could share it with me. But
the choreography seems a bit complicated, especially if
there's other staff members or customers going in and out.
Perhaps it would be better for me to go in, tease the
daylights out of him, then just after I've left you show up
and indulge in the usual macho type of dialogue. ("Wow, you
wouldn't believe the slut that I just saw outside your store.
Tiny skirt and the way she === ???" "Yeah, I know, she was
just in here." "Really? Did you wait on here? Is she as hot
as she looks? What did you get to see?").
That might work better, depending upon your relationship, but
it also requires the cooperation of other staff and customers
and a lot of luck in timing. Better yet, how about this: We
walk in together and you approach your friend and say that you
just met this lady on the mall. She's from, where?,
Rochester?, and she asked if there was a shoe store nearby so
I told her that this was an excellent one and you'd give her
the best of service. He will move into his salesman role
while you can hover elsewhere in the store and watch while I
begin to tease him. Depending upon the layout, you can loiter
elsewhere behind me and discreetly watch his reactions, or you
can loiter behind him and sample a bit of the tease that I do
to him. You can leave the store before or just as I'm
finishing, or you can hang back and let me leave and maybe
talk up the experience with your friend. How does any of this
sound?
Picnic
Just a simple little time out, on a small roadside picnic area,
just up a short distance above and off of the side of a moderately
busy road.
She decides to sunbathe a bit, and he decides to film a bit and she
decides to stroke her clit and pussy a bit and so on.
Sounds delicious, especially if she acts like she's all alone
and timidly checks around to be sure nobody can see her as she
slowly disrobes to get a bit of sun.
She might remember that he's bought some food, like a carrot or
two, some corn, a cucumber === or she might not.
Probably not. I've never masturbated with vegetables or fruit
and it brings to mind some of the ugly GIFs I've seen. To be
honest, I suppose it's mostly my ego operating in that I would
be pleased and excited to have you capture me masturbating for
you on tape, but not using some carrot or celery. That
strikes me as more tacky than sexy. Still, I'm open to
please...
She does recall that there was some strange knocking (and she never
passes up strange knocking) under the car hood, and opens it up to
look underneath. He is busy looking underneath as well, and
getting proper documentary evidence.]
This brings to mind a few classic teases from the past. One
time in particular when I really did have an engine problem
(flooded carb, actually) and as the mechanic leaned under the
hood from one side, I leaned under from the other side and his
eyes almost popped out as my bust came totally into view.
Little Beaver State Park
This is a pretty little park, but remote and not used much. After
driving in, he goes to the small parking lot a mile away and drops
her off, and then continues down a small dirt road that leads
across a river, and then to nowhere. As she descends the small
hill to the bend in the river, she sees him drive past a small
opening on the other side and then return a little later. He parks
and gets out to start filming, first the scenery and then her, as
she walks down to the beach and out on the old wooden pier and sits
on the end to sun herself and perhaps to wave at him. Naturally,
at some point, her dress or coat is completely open at the front
and he makes good use both of her poses and any zoom features the
camcorder might have.
This is just wonderful, especially if the sun is shining and
there are some people on the beach! Are there any nice
secluded spots where a girl might enjoy herself?
[Another possibility, that she wade out into the water, with her
dress open and held up above the water around her thighs was
dropped when we realized that unless she backed up to shallower
waters (and possibly tripping as she went) or dropped the bottom of
her dress into the water, she'd have to turn and face the beach
with an open dress and nothing underneath it.]
Pussy East mall - Penny's beaver bus
They park at a nondescript mall at the edge of town, shortly before
a downtown bus is to arrive. Being a gentleman, he lets her and
everybody else on the bus get on first, and then steps on right
behind and below her. Being an imperfect gentleman, he is fondling
her bum and pussy even as she fumbles for a ticket, before heading
back to sit on one of the pair of facing seats at the back, over
the rear wheels. He sits facing her, and films her as her skirt
moves aside and her fingers move inside. (or?)
After some more mall time, they return to get the car.
These are all fun escapades. Wandering around campus,
searching in the library, tending to my car, sunning, riding
the bus == practically anything you can safely envisage, I'm
willing to give it a try for my roving alert cameraman.
Near the Quarry (optional)
She drives down a long tree-lined road, towards a quarry. Just
before its entrance, she drives them into a small parking lot, and
parks at the end remote from the small building there. She turns
to him and slouches back against the door, with her right knee
against the back of the seat. As they chat and he films, she
immodestly pumps her cunt and asshole with her fingers until she
feels ready.
They leave the car and enter the building - a bar frequented by
lesbians and gays, where women can obtain T-shirts with the slogan
"I can lick any woman in the room!" only by standing up on the bar,
facing the room, stripping to the waist and putting on the sweater.
Then, they see what happens, if anything does.
I don't think so. After some of the videos you've sent me,
I'm not sure I could pull this off without laughing my head
off or getting very nervous. I've had my curiosity satisfied
as to this element so I think we could put this time to better
use, for example, in:
A porn store
He has entered a small porn store and is browsing. She enters a
bit giggly and obviously a little overwhelmed by it all.
Now this scenario really appeals to me. I can play the
brainless bimbo with the best of them and it would be fabulous
to act out the scenario you suggested. I could ask you all
sorts of things, then start admitting that I was getting horny
and that I had to slip back into one of the viewing booths to
"unwind" for a moment. I'd pick one with a hole in the wall
(are there any without?) and you could take the booth
alongside and peek through.
She looks around for a while in bewilderment and then approaches
him, or the clerk, as she wishes. 'Hi, I know that this will sound
SO dumb, but I'm supposed to pick up one of these films for a
girlfriend's shower party and I have NO idea about these. My
boyfriend was supposed to help me, but we had a BIG fight.'
Later - 'You mean those two girls LICK each other down there?'
'You mean that he puts his thing in her BOTTOM?'
'Doesn't that hurt?'
'Why would he do that?'
'Have YOU ever done THAT?'
and finally the old guy and she leave together, with his perhaps
stroking her bum as they leave.
If the situation and audience are right, and if you're
positive it won't cause you any harm or embarrassment, we
could do a lot more than just stroke my bum. We could walk
out with my skirt hiked up at the back and your hand visibly
busy in the back of my panties if you really wanted to give
the clerk an erection to savour.
Hillary's mall
A somewhat distant mall, and a fairly large one. At times he and
she are unaware of each other, at other times they are related
(father & daughter, husband & wife, lovers, coworkers?) In some
places they obviously like each other. In a shoe store, life is
different. She's trying on shoes and he's bored and a bit pissed
off with life and with her, having seen the clerk looking up her
skirt.
He: I've decided I'm taking Angie to Paris next month.
She: Angie!!?? Your fucking secretary? How come her? Is it
because she gives good head or something?
He: She gives better head than you do.
She: I give Great head.
He: Hell, half the women at the club give better head than you do.
She: That's not what the caddies say!
He: Shows what they know.
She: I give GREAT head. I bet if I gave head to any guy here, he'd
agree it was great head.
He: What? Without you even knowing the guy?
She: Yeah!
He: ..... Tell you what; I'll make you a deal. You find some guy
here and blow him, and if he says that it's the best head he's
ever had, you can come.
She: Instead of Angie?
He: Well, I DID promise her ... but she can give us each head.
Now all ya gotta do is find a guy. .... Pardon me, son....
If it's distant and there's definitely no danger of you being
recognized or any recriminations, we could have all sorts of
fun. We could talk dirty (both the conversation you wrote or
a more loving one with graphic promises to each other) in
front of different victims and see their reactions. One
friend told me of a game she loved to play on either gorgeous
or lecherous guys, usually in airports. She'd pretend to be
speaking to a boyfriend on the phone and "forget" how public
she was and start to talk dirty, describing either a previous
romp or breathlessly promising to show her guy a great time,
describing everything she was going to do in very explicit,
horny detail. Then she'd say goodbye and go catch her flight,
leaving the guy with his tongue hanging out and his dick
standing up.
We could also find a quiet corner or two where people would
happen upon us as we fondled each other. Being lost in a
long, delicious kiss, we wouldn't be aware that someone was
discreetly watching us as I rubbed the front of your pants and
your hand slid my skirt up and began to stroke my pussy. Or
we could be standing near a quiet entrance and, just as
someone approached, we lock in a deep embrace and your hands
lift up the back of my skirt and began to fondle my ass in
just a bright orange thong. Or...
IF IT IS AGREEABLE, I'd like to buy you some good lingerie to be
married in - if that doesn't seem too tacky.
My first reaction is that my wedding is likely so far away
that it would be foolish to buy my lingerie now. My next
thought was to say "Sure!" but then I wondered if there isn't
some tradition that my groom gets to select my honeymoon
lingerie. Then it struck me that I'll probably want to have
LOTS of different items of lingerie on my honeymoon and most
of it I'll choose myself and surprise Al with.
You may not wish to, but it would allow me to be present at (and
very much endorsing) your wedding, in some inconspicuous but
intimate role.
Knowing you, I would have thought you'd prefer to be present
at my wedding night rather than at the ceremony itself. And
the opportunities for exotic outfits for that night (and the
ones that follow) are far greater. Care to select one?
How about this for a counter offer? Why don't you and I go
lingerie shopping during any cloudy/rainy parts of my visit
but only in stores where I can model these things for you?
Each time you like an outfit (id est: give it the male
salute), I'll buy it and promise to write up later all the
details of when it was premiered at home. In return, of
course, I will insist on shopping for sexy souvenirs for you
(although, unless stores in your part of the country are
markedly different from here, I suspect there won't be a
chance for you to model them for me before purchase) and will
want to know what adventures you get up to in them.
So, you'd be willing to let me get you something?
Well of course I'd want to buy it! And maybe wear it out in
the sunshine for a striptease for your camera. Incidentally,
do you have a Victoria's Secret in town? Or other lingerie
specialty shops? I mention VS because they have the perfect
dressing rooms and it would be very easy for me to try on
several things for you and let you discreetly review them.
But I expect we can do almost as well in any lingerie shop if
the crowds and angles are right. For that matter, I suppose we
could stroll through the lingerie section of Penny's and I
could hold up various panties and call out to you things like
"Is this sexy, dear? Does this give you a nice hard cock?
Would like you to fuck me in this, darling?" and see if we can
embarrass anybody nearby.
Scenes from Dickwood (Demos, Delivery in Rear, Farewell?)
While you've taken a room at the local Bush Holiday Inn for your
arrival (about as upscale as you can get here), you've moved to a
dinky little motel (or a decent place if I can track one down) in
a nearby town like Dickwood, reserving a top floor room for two.
During the day, we arrive at the motel and head up to the room.
(Being married and hence a slob, I naturally don't wait for you or
help you with anything like the door.) Inside, I hook up the
rented VCR machine while you haul out your toys (yours, not mine, -
- well, maybe mine too). While I film from various locations, you
demonstrate your various techniques, perhaps egged on by the doings
on the tapes I've brought, or by replays of the previous days'
naughtinesses.
[Reader: That was pretty well the list of initial ideas. I sent a
few more to her about a week later.]
Some extra little treats for you:
Grocery Store - Inside and Outside
This basically replays the great moves by M in T when you visited
her last year. You and I head in separately, and I carry The Bag
as usual. We each take a shopping cart and start wandering the
aisles. In addition to those great pussy/ass shots as you bend
over or squat to check out a few items on low shelves or at the
bottoms of freezer displays, there is that great moment (at least
once) when you have to get up REALLY high, by putting one foot on
the cart and use that to gain height and then come back down,
unfortunately with the hem of your skirt caught on the frame of the
shopping cart - pulling the hem up to your waist and clearly
revealing your total lack of panties.
(Possibly after actually buying nothing), you walk out to the
parking lot, with me following at a discrete distance. You might
drop your keys, for a flashing opportunity - or if there is an
opportunity, you might get in your car, fail to start it, get out,
crawl in through the passenger's side front door and start fiddling
under the dashboard. Naturally, this will require you lying on the
passenger's seat, first on your side facing the dashboard and then,
as your head disappears under it, you wind up on your back with
your knees bobbing around and apart as you struggle with the
wiring. Since the passenger side door remains wide open, of
course, I get at least some great public pussy shots and perhaps
even some shots of guys enjoying your struggles.
Park time
It's close to noon, and the sun is shining. We're in the north end
of town, well away from the university and my neighbourhood. We've
parked in the MadDog Plaza and have each wandered around the mall
to the park behind, me about 3 minutes after you, or arriving with
you. We approach a park bench, you with a towel and me with The
Bag. You are perhaps already lying down, wiggling into position as
I walk by, and the Bag records at great length the wonderful views
you provide up your short skirt. Your panties are present and
quite colorful, so they are hard to miss. They've also been chosen
with an eye to hiding tell-tale damp spots. I sit down on the
bench near the nice place you've chosen to spread [your blanket!]
on the grass. I 'sort-of' notice, but move on past you and sit on
the bench beyond, with the bag facing back the way I came.
[Alternatively, we are together, but with you stretched out just
out of my sight behind the bench, where I can discover what you're
doing and snap at you to come along to the car - if things get
uncomfortable.]
You are lying in the sun, wearing sunglasses, outerwear and
the panties, and you roll around from time to time. The earphones
to your Walkman both drown out comments and give you a beat that
you keep time to with your whole body. The [nonexistent?] music
perhaps even drowns out the loud school-bell across the street,
freeing several hundred students for lunch and many of them stroll
across into the park. By this time, you are lying on your tummy,
and one hand out of sight under you is actually but invisibly
stroking your clit under your panties. You and I are each
oblivious as hundreds of students stroll by and stare in
fascination up your legs as you lie there, or eventually stand up
and bend over, straight-legged, to pick up your towel. As you
stroll off with a small army of young lechers trailing you, I in
turn follow them, taping as we go. You drive off to another mall
just down the street, and I join you there.
Downtown Mall.
The downtown mall has a multileveled parking lot with the uppermost
level being inconvenient and primarily used by regulars who park
all day at a considerable discount. As I drive up to the top, I
stop at one point and let you run around and get in the seat behind
me, leaving your raincoat on the passenger-side front seat. I
reach the top of the parking lot and head over to the down ramp
slowly, as you and I check for nearby people. I stop the car
facing a large office building, in which many people are having
their coffee breaks. We are each wearing hats that hide much of
our faces - and that's all you are now wearing. As I stop the car,
you get out from behind me, stroll around behind the car, and stand
facing the office building, legs spread. You see a friend, wave,
reach down and stroke some juice from your cunt, lift your hand to
your lips and blow a kiss to your friend in the office. You get
in, rapidly put the coat on, and I drive down and park at a lower
level. We leave the caps behind and walk into the mall for a
while, perhaps after you've had a bit of time to stroke some more.
Early morning goodbye
This one you'll have to do on your own as I won't be "in at work"
yet. You are one of about fifty passengers waiting at the train
station, or perhaps one of the wives of those leaving on the early
morning train. You are near the front of the train, but don't get
on. As the train rolls out, you start waving goodbye, and your
raincoat flips open as a result of the wave, and of the action of
your other hand tucked in a pocket of the coat - and of course, you
are standing there nude but with only those on the departing train
able to see. As the train leaves, you pull your coat together,
turn, head to the car and prepare for the day ahead.
Laundry
Given your short stay and my severe time limits, I doubt that we
can, but it would be fun to have us in a laundromat where you set
up a machine to wash your underwear and then, casually, you reach
up under your skirt, haul your panties down and add them to the
load. Naturally, we hang around a while to catch the extended
reactions of the other guys there to knowing you're standing there
both pantyless and nonchalant about it.
More about the Hillary Mall.
I'm driving down the divided four-lane highway to the mall, with
The Bag properly set up in the back seat. The highway is not at
all busy at this time of day, although there IS a large yellow
school bus up ahead (with mature high school kids, or adults
aboard, of course). About 5-10 miles before the turnoff to the
mall, I drift up behind the school bus, and you and I briefly
notice and then ignore the usual pair or two of bored eyes staring
back from the bus. My arm is around your shoulder, and I start
caressing your right breast, first outside and then inside your
blouse, which soon hangs open. My hand then moves back around your
neck and slips down to your lap, approximating your hand's actions
in my own lap. You realize that you need something from the back
seat and, undoing your seatbelt and ignoring the dozen pairs of
eyes watching us, you turn to face the back of the car, recline the
seat a bit and slide back so your bum is roughly at my shoulder
level. I fondle your ass for a bit and then pull up your skirt to
expose your ass to the multitude of eyes watching. My fingers
stroke your clit and invade your pussy. You ease yourself down
until my fingers tickle your cervix and my wrist touches your clit.
When you recover [on my cue] and return to your seat, you give the
bus a big wave and then flop over with your head in my lap - just
as I steer the car off the highway and onto the off ramp to the
mall.
At the Mall
Besides the obvious play at the various clothing stores we visit,
we also visit a large department store, where business is very slow
in the furniture place. You start reclining on various recliners
and beds, until a salesman approaches - and I ask if it's OK if I
video tape you on a bed 'to show some friends?'. You strike
various semi-revealing poses, at one point showing a bit too much.
I protest:
He: Hey, you went and put those damned orange striped panties on!!
You know they look stupid on the film; those stripes
always strobe!
She: Well what did you want me to wear?
He: Something nice, like those lacy blue pair - they show up
great.
She: What, the ones that you've gnawed the crotch out of?
He: WWell, those are just going to fuck up the whole shot.
She: What do you want me to do, remove them?
Etc.
Another store that we visit is a near-deserted and _really_
expensive jewellery store, one that you've already visited. You've
asked the young woman there to let you see the most expensive items
you can. You chat, and let drop the fact that you're visiting your
dad, whom you haven't seen in years, ever since his divorce. Your
sisters have each had one two-week summer visit with him, and
you're trying to bring home a bigger gift from him than they got.
['He's filthy rich, the prick'] One sister cheated though, and had
him buy the clerk a gift as well, 'just because she liked it and
she was pretty and daddy wanted to get into her pants as well'.
When we return to the store, you steer me to the counter and the
clerk (having confirmed that she'd still be there). Out comes the
bauble, and you start in on me, about how gorgeous it is and how
sweet I am and how much you love me. I refuse, reluctantly, and
you take me to one side a bit and start giving me "daddy's little
girl" kisses and rubbing yourself against me and then, when no one
can see (Ha!) you start stroking my groin and reminding me that
when I was eating you this morning and saying how much I loved you,
I promised I'd do anything for you and - deep breath - yes, you'd
let me fuck you back there if only I could be generous enough. We
return to the counter and, depending on how you read the clerk, you
suggest that I might get something for her too, perhaps after you
get her to help overcome my reluctance. You do finally break down
my resistance and start suggesting possible choices to buy
(involving her in the action as much as you dare, as spectator or
participant). Finally, I agree to the demands of both of you and
then, when appropriate, reach for my wallet and ask 'How much is
all of this?' 'Oh darn, that's over my card limit!' 'Listen
Honey, I'm sorry! I'll have to get a cashier's cheque for that -
first thing on Monday' As we leave, you're informing me that your
ass is off limits till then.
Heading back to Bush.
I'm driving again, to allow you once again to continue to
masturbate as we drive. As usual, your skirt is pulled up behind
your back and you're sitting on a towel from the hotel. The car
smells a bit of cunt and cock juices, and I'll be changing at the
university and showering there, as on the past days. I'm feeling
exhilarated and sad both, knowing that this is our last hour
together. You've fallen asleep with one hand resting on your leg,
just below the hem of your skirt which just covers your much
abused, very satisfied pussy. I reach over and move the hem of your
skirt down, to protect your privacy.
Reader: That's a nice place to end this tale, and you might want to
stop here, for a bit anyway. Trust me.
I waited for a week for her replies to these new scenes, which I
felt she'd enjoy. I knew that she'd planned on driving up with Al
to introduce him to her mom and dad, and that she suspected that he
was planning to ask her dad for her hand; perhaps she'd decided
that she should stop writing to me because it betrayed her new
love. I tried sending the odd little message, getting more and
more worried.
A week later, I got an odd reply, "This account terminated" - and
then another odd one, "contact me at XXXXX'. [I shudder as I
recall all of this.] It was NOT her replying, but rather the
sysop, who was cleaning out her accounts and files. He'd read our
damned mail! Turns out that he's an old and experienced guy, who
took pity on me, and informed me that she'd died (a day after
writing me). Sure! Likely story! He told me, though, where to
find the obituary in the out-of-state paper that our library
carries. She and her boyfriend drove up to her folks in separate
cars, and he had his four-year-old son with him who was incredibly
attached to her. As they approached a blind curve, a truck coming
the other way hit a patch of black ice and skidded across into her
lane, smashing her car into the wall beside the highway. She seems
to have died instantly. To add to the sadness of it all, he
mentioned that she'd been fast-tracked for tenure, something she'd
been shy about mentioning. [You may feel that you've identified
her as someone you knew, and want me to confirm that for you. I
won't. I have always protected her privacy and betraying it now
might well hurt those she left behind, to say nothing of cheapening
her memory. I've deliberately left in one small but telling detail
in as a thank you to a friend of hers [M from T] who inadvertently
got her interested in e-chat, whom she very much loved and to whom
I feel considerable gratitude and affection myself. Aside from
that, while I've tried to give a close-to-accurate picture of what
she was like, some superficial details have been obscured enough
that there are probably a hundred women closer to what I've
outlined here than she was - all things considered. If she COULD
be someone you know, though, whom you've loved and lost, I feel for
you.]
I've done my crying and my raging. The sysop and I swapped
some tales, and he confirmed that what she'd told me about herself
was true, or understated if anything. She was one of a few
incredible women I've met on the net and one of two I've loved
here. I don't want, expect or need to meet another. [OK, I don't
expect to, and I really would be foolish and naive to try to.] (She's the
second woman I've cared about that I've lost here under painful
circumstances; I don't need the pain or the drain on my time and
emotions; I have too much other work to do and, besides, as the
sysop and I have agreed, she made just about any other woman pale
in comparison. She's ruined casual girl watching for me, at least
for a while.) I've done most of my mourning for her and this last
bit of exhibitionism of her most secret plans, anonymously, is part
of that. Knowing her as I did, I suspect that she'd approve. Oh
yes, in her very last letter she decided to thank me for all that
I'd done for her, and to tell me that she loved me. Thank God I
also have that to remember her by.
Dear reader: my apologies if you've been annoyed by my hauling in
what is in part a love story, and one that ends tragically. (Of
course, you've probably moved on by now anyway.) I would generally
prefer that you post your comments to the net for all to see rather
than contacting me.
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