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The First Story of Love
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.
THE FIRST STORY OF LOVE
FROM
CHELLO THE WANDER
She had been a security gaurd for more than a year now. Her name
Heather Mckcafin the toughest Irish girl in high school. Now she
wanted to be a cop, but she had two years of collage to finish before
she could apply to the academy. For now she would wait and do her job
the best she could, make the right impression for the reference..
On her fifth round of the night she came across somthing different.
A black motercycle, low strung fast Harley softtail that struck somthing
within her not somthing sexual. Fear it was definital fear, it shook
through her like a stream of fire. She stood there silent for a monent
then sank back into the shadows to collect her thoughts.
Not completely concious of how much time was passing the door opened.
He stood there just outside the door for a moment then proceded down the
staris to the bike. When he tossed the saddle bags on the back of his
machine and began to fasten them down she couldnt help but think how the
two of them molded to the same image in her minds eye, fast lean and
somthing inquestive about the safty of riding either one of them.
The breath left her involunatary as the roar of the bike's starting
caught her thinking of things she was immune to since early high school.
The man rolled the bike out of the parking space. His back toward her now,
the bike jared as first gear engaged. Her mind racing a hundred thoughts a
second as his head turns, she now has only one thought and it is of that
whiplash grin thrown directly at her. The bike lunges forward and in a brief
second he is gone.
Days go by the research she puts together can only mean one thing.
The man she had seen that night was Maclean, Will Maclean the best thief in
the country, The most bold and flashy thief to ever live. He was known to be
for hire to any cause that paid money. Now she knew where to find him.
Weeks go by the nights grow warm, Heather still keeps an eye on the apt.
Watting for a black bike to appear. She spends many an hour waitting in the
shadows outside the place. Her thoughts are many but nothing comes, the little
whisper in her ear shall stay in her mind forever. Words just words but how
these words affected somthing deep within her. The words come from behind her
and this touch soft and gently the hands of a master thief. Now she has felt
his touch and the skin of her body has told her she must have him.
How can this be happening she mumbles to herself as her removes her
clothes. What about my duty to capture this man races past as he careses
her body gently. This is against everthing within me she mumbles and her body
quivers and she knows it was a lie. He kisses her and all the thoughts of
wroung and right are gone forever as she embraces his body next to her.
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