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Girl Meets Girl Meets Boy, Part I
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.
--Several people mentioned that they had never read my stories...so
I'm gonna repost 'em all, including the ones that just came out.
Standard disclaimers apply, plus copyright on all of the below--
Girl Meets Girl Meets Boy
Part I
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The same old story. You've heard it a thousand times. They
meet. They fall in love. They fall apart. They come together.
They, sometimes, live happily ever after.
Elaine was a computer programmer, with severe eyestrain and
the beginnings of premature arthritis in her cramped hands. Angie was
her roommate, a brilliant, self-centered, sensitive writer. Elaine
made $40,000 a year. Angie was too sensitive to get a job. Elaine
had gone to a private boarding school and her stubbornly blind parents
had great hopes for a society marriage. Angie's mother had lived on a
commune in Berkeley, and Angie's first lover was an Asian girl with
hazel eyes and a dancer's body. Elaine and Angie had been lovers for
two years when they met him.
***
"Goddamnit, Elaine, do you have to leave your tights draped over my
computer? You've got your own computer to drip on!"
"But I'm working on my computer." Elaine said reasonably. "And
they're perfectly dry; I think I just dropped them there last night.
I was really tired when I got home from work."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"What is what supposed to mean?"
"You were really tired, huh? I guess you think I should go out and
start working at McDonald's to pay my share? Or maybe you want me to
learn to take dictation?"
"Lay off, Ang. I meant I was tired, that's all. I make plenty of
money for both of us."
Angie was on the verge of tears, tapping her bare foot on the floor of
their sun-drenched apartment. Elaine continued, "Besides, when your
novel gets published we'll live off the royalties for years. Come
here." Elaine stretched out a hand and stared stubbornly at Angie. Angie
sighed theatrically and walked over to Elaine's desk, taking Elaine's
dark hand between her own hands. She looked down at their
joined hands and then moaned despairingly.
"Now what?" Elaine asked, slightly exasperated.
"You're so beautiful! And I'm so pale and ugly! I can't even tan."
Angie wailed.
"Silly."
Elaine pulled Angie down into her lap ar arms around her,
pulling Angie back firmly against her own chest. She gently caressed
the soft white skin of Angie's shoulders, calming the frail and
trembling body. Elaine buried her face in Angie's red curls,
breathing warmly on her lover's arching neck.
"You're beautiful, silly. Like an elf, a swan, the moon..."
"A pudgy elf." Angie muttered, though a smile had begun to creep up
her face.
"A divinely pudgy elf." Elaine solemnly agreed.
At that, Angie turned in Elaine's arms and pounced, tickling Elaine
mercilessly until they fell off the chair and rolled, laughing, across
the bare hardwood floor.
***
Journal Entry: April 2
Beautiful Saturday. Went walking in Grant Park today, through
downtown, down to the lakefront. Avoided the horse-faced man with the
loudspeaker - too gorgeous a day to argue theology. Impressions:
crowded streets on this first truly warm day of spring; the horses are
friendlier; even the cops are smiling; Marshall Fields has a new
display in muted sunset colors; musicians are playing everywhere.
Which brings me to him. With his white-blond hair and cobalt eyes and
tanned body. With his pathetic plucking and his ragged cut-off jeans
and long, muscled legs. I swear I could kill Elaine sometimes. The
way she looks at men and smiles at them and they come chasing after
her with their tongues hanging out and their dicks panting is enough to
make any woman sick. And she encourages them with that slightly
reserved Massachusetts smile and her oak eyes laughing. Maybe Cathy
was right. Maybe you can never really trust bisexuals, even the ones
who promise to be faithful. They're always flipping back and forth,
always wanting what they don't have.
And he never even looked at me.
***
They went walking again next Saturday, and Rob was there
again. His green Folk Festival t-shirt had a fresh tear down one side
and his guitar sat unused at his feet. Angie walked over and leaned
against a tree, while Elaine stepped in front of him, looking up and
down his body.
"What happened?" Elaine asked.
"What do you mean, what happened?" he replied, shifting uneasily.
Elained walked up and pressed her hand against his side, right under
the tear. He winced away. "What happened.?", she asked again.
"It's nothing. Some guys started harshing on my music last night."
"Yeah, well, you know you're not the world's best musician." Angie
said, smiling. He managed a grin at that. "Awful, is what you mean."
"Right." Angie agreed. "But I didn't think you were quite stupid
enough to start a fight over that."
"Peacenik me? Start a fighT? Never. But after a while they got
tired of my silence and started some other stuff."
Silence. Elaine kept staring at him, her arms crossed in front of
her. "They called me a fag. A queer." he admitted reluctantly. "Then
they started beating on me. Broke two strings on the guitar in the
fight. Then a police car drove by, sirens blaring, y took off. Doubt
the cops ever saw me, actually."
"Take off your shirt. Angie, will you look him over?" Elaine asked.
"Please?"
Angie came over, muttering something about stray cats and started to
reach out towards Rob's shirt. "Hey, don't touch. I'm fine." he
said as he pulled away. "Trust me. I took eight years of tae kwon
do. I know a lot about injuries. Take off your shirt."
"I'm only bruised." he protested. When Elaine continued glaring at
him he mumbled, "Besides, it hurts to lift my arms enough to take off
this shrt. And I stink; it's hard to shower when you're living in
parks."
"You idiot." Elaine said, without rancor. "You've probably
got broken ribs, you know. Let her find out." Angie started getnly
pressing Rob's chest, holding his arm with her left hand so he
couldn't easily get away.
"Well, what do you want me to do? I can't afford a doctor. I
can't even afford to fix the strings on my guitar. Not that I really
know how to play it, anyway." Rob started off angry, but his voice
trailed off despairingly. "I think he's cracked a few of them, but
not badly. Nothing's shifting." Angie explained, blinking up through
her glasses at Elaine. "If he binds them and stays still for a few
weeks, he should be okay."
Elaine looked pleadingly at Angie, who sighed and nodded her
head. "Only till he heals." Angie warned. Elaine's smile broke across
her face as she reached down and picked up the guitar case.
"You're coming home with us." Angie explainbed. "I appreciate
the thought, ladies, but I don't need charity." Rob said, as he tried
to take the guitar case away from Elaine. She hoisted it easily above
his head. He tried to reach up to it, and winced again. She smiled.
"Yes, you do. Don't be ridiculous. Are you afraid we're
going to rape you?" Angie asked. "Hey, I'm not really gay, you
know." he protested. "Those guys just assume that a skinny musician
with an earring has to be a fag. I'm terribly dangerous where women
are concerned. They swoon at my feet." Angie laughed and started
walking to the bus. "But you are queer, aren't you?" Elaine asked,
ignoring his latter comments.
Angie turned back to him, startled. He looked defensive for a
moment, and then said defiantly, "Actually, yes. I'm bi. So I really
don't think it would be a good idea for you to invite me into your
home. You're both far too attractive and I wouldn't be able to
control myself. I think we can handle an invalid." Elaine commented.
"Besides, you don't seem to have understood. ANgie and I are
together. Have been for years. You'll be perfectly safe. Ang, could
you get his bag?"
"Oh." Rob blushed. "I feel stupid." "That's okay," Angie
said as she picked up his one duffle bag. "You look stupid too."
"Thanks a whole lot" he replied, starting to laugh.
"You're welcome." Elaine said, smiling. "Now come on."
***
End of Part I
M.A. Mohanraj
August 23rd
--
Hate has a reason for everything.
But love is unreasonable.
- V. Raiuhes Ahaefvthe
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