Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 

   Dilemma - Lorelei's Story

   Copyright by Joesephus

   I know Joesphus wanted these stories posted to ASSTR but lost his
password.  He was a computer Klutz.  I was going over some of his old
emails and found his password and am posting these for his fans.

   I do hope you enjoy it.  Jonnyrebel82 written 02/26/2012

   ------ Synopsis: We all make choices, and suffer the consequences--but
do we ever learn anything?

   ------ There is no sex in this story.

   This is not a stand alone story.  In order for it to make sense you have
to read Dilemma.  It ends at exactly the same place that Dilemma ends.  If
you don't like unresolved stories you might want to pass on this one.  It
contains no sex.



   ------

   Because I glanced at the clock, I know that I'd lived 12,656,620 minutes
when it happened.  Don't you think it should take more than 27 minutes to
destroy everything it had taken that long to create?

   It has never seemed right, or even possible that so much damage could
have happened in so little time, or that there was absolutely nothing
positive about those fleeting moments.  In less time than it takes to watch
the silliest sitcom, I changed the lives of people I'll never know--so many
lives.

   Twenty-seven minutes is how long it took Professor Jacob Ethan Riley
King to fuck me, and ruin my world.

   To understand how it happened you have to understand who I am and to
understand that, you have to understand Chris, my ex-husband.  Out parents
were best friend before we were born, and we spent more time together than
most twins.

   In fact, we spent so much time together we developed a special
sensitivity for each other.  I think it was the same thing that some twins
are supposed to have.  I had no secrets from Chris and he had none from me.

   We generally knew what the other person was thinking, and frequently
could finish each other's sentences.  We were so close that like many twins
we don't have the same sense of "body space" that normal people do. 
Teachers were always correcting us about standing too close to them.  I
think that's one of the reasons that Professor King decided to fuck me.

   It certainly wasn't because I was some sort of great beauty.  I've got
an okay figure, if you like lean athletic women.  My face would have been
nice, but I had fair sized congenital melanocytic naevus on my right cheek.
CMN is better known as a brown birthmark.  Most people with these sorts of
birthmarks, are the butt of vicious jokes by other kids.  I never was
because Chris was always there to make sure it didn't happen.

   I don't remember the first time Chris got into a fight because someone
was making fun of me, but I do remember the last time.  We were freshmen in
high school and it almost got Chris killed.

   The biggest jock, and I don't just mean the most gifted, in our school
was a senior.  He wasn't "dumb as a rock" because that would demean the
rock.  What he was, was the biggest, fastest, meanest linebacker in Texas.
I'm not exaggerating at all.  He's played in several NFL pro bowls and I
wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have someone on his staff to read his
clippings to him...  of course he graduated from OU, so what can you
expect.

   Chris and I were both athletes, and the first time I met...  I'll call
him "Rock" I was working out in the weight room.  Rock came in after
football practice and he started right in about my deformity.  I've been
known to have a tart tongue, and I was cutting him to ribbons, but he was
too dumb to know it.

   About that time Chris showed up and the fight was on.  You have to
understand that Chris is a runner and a soccer player.  He's strong and
fast but he's lean.  Rock was built...  well like an NFL middle linebacker,
and just as fast as Chris, or perhaps a shade faster.

   He beat Chris to a bloody pulp, but he never bothered me again, because
Chris scared him.  There is no quit in Chris, and even Rock was smart
enough to know that you could kill him but you couldn't beat him.

   That's the way Chris was.  UT won two national championships when Chris
was on their club team because he just wouldn't quit.  If I tell you about
the last one, I think you might understand.

   It went to four overtimes and the only man on the field still running
off the ball was Chris.  He scored the winning goal with less than a minute
left before they went to shoot-outs, although you'd never hear that from
him.

   Chris is modest, and I think that's what made him popular.  Yes, he was
a jock, but he never acted that way, and people loved him for it.  He gave
me the confidence to run for class president in high school and because he
had so many friends in so many different cliques, I won.

   If you haven't got the picture yet, in my never humble opinion, there
might be a better man, someplace, but I'll be hard to convince.  So, why if
I loved the best man in the world why did I emasculate him with my
27-minute fuck fest?

   That's a little hard to explain...

   Let me start by saying I accept the blame for what I did.  I might have
been worked over by the best, but no one put a gun to my head and forced me
into his room.  I walked under my own power, and I should have-- could
have-- walked out when I knew what was happening.

   That's what I'll never forgive myself for letting him fuck me.  When I
spread my legs for him, I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway.

   Yes, Professor King set me up, he spent the time to learn my weakness,
and he played me.  When I took his summer class, he asked me to stay after
class the day it started.  He said he wanted to talk about the settlement I
received when my father was killed in an airline crash.

   Before the end of that course, I'd told him what I'd only shared with
Chris.  The last words I'd ever said to Daddy where an angry, hurtful
accusations because he was going to miss one of my soccer games.  I was in
second grade and I was mad because I expected him to watch me perform.

   Daddy changed his reservation to get home early.  When we heard about
the crash we didn't know Daddy was on the plane.  We didn't know until a
damn TV reporter rang our door with camera running to ask us how we felt.

   As soon as he'd heard my story, Professor King began acting like a
father to me.  I loved it.  Dad, Chris' dad had been wonderful to me
growing up, but I always knew, down deep, that he was Chris' dad and not
mine.

   The week before that damn OU game, Professor King invited us to his
house out by the lake.  That's when he started talking about how his own
daughter had chosen to stay with his "cheating wife" and how little contact
he had with her.

   It should have raised all sorts of flags, instead I felt so sorry for
him.  I was so excited when he "discovered" that Chris couldn't leave early
because of a class, and offered to take me to Dallas on Friday morning.

   If I'd had any of my normal defenses up, I think his charm still would
have broken them down on the 3 1/2 hour trip.  King had all the charm and
persuasiveness you'd expect from a lawyer who'd won a fortune in a huge
class action settlement.

   When we got to the hotel it was even swankier than I expected.  It was a
different world, and I felt so sophisticated as we shared a couple of
drinks in the bar.  I didn't think twice about it when he invited me to his
room because he didn't want to be seen "over socializing" with one of his
students.

   I'm not making excusing, but explaining that I was a little tipsy when
he started pouring his heart out about the pain his daughter caused by
choosing to live with her mother.  He got me talking about Daddy and I
didn't think anything about being swept up in his arms to be "comforted."

   So there we were.  Both of us had tears rolling down our cheeks, but I
damn well know now his weren't real.  I was in so much pain I didn't react
when he kissed me.

   Sex never entered my mind with that first kiss, just the need to comfort
him, and to be comforted.  But it wasn't a comforting kiss, it was full of
passion, and I responded to it.  Oh God, if I'd only had the sense to stop
there.  Still, if that was all that had happened...

   But it wasn't.  I may have been a bit fuzzy, but when I felt his hand in
my pants, I knew I had to stop him.  I also knew I could stop him.  I
wanted to stop him, but I didn't.

   No, I wasn't drunk.  No, I didn't want to have sex with him.  No, he
didn't force me.  I did decide that for some reason I've never been able to
figure out that I shouldn't stop him, and I didn't.

   I'd worn a skirt, and he never even took down my panties.  He just
shoved them aside and he ignored how dry I was as he started to fuck me. 
As he entered me, I saw the clock, 5:43.

   As he fucked me, I fucked him back.  No, it wasn't passion.  I just
wanted to have this nightmare end, to be over.  I remember chanting
mentally, "Just get through this, just get through this." At exactly 6:10
he pulled out of me and shot his load on my panties.

   As he stood he said, "I didn't want to cum inside you.  I don't think
Chris would appreciate sloppy seconds."

   I didn't say anything, I just adjusted my breasts back into my bra, and
left.

   When I got back to my room I flushed my panties down the toilet and I
took as hot a shower as I could stand.  I knew what I'd done.  I was a
dirty cheating slut and I'd betrayed the only man I'd ever love.

   I'd done it with my eyes wide open and I had no excuse.  I thought about
it and I wondered what I should do.  How should I tell Chris?

   Then I made my second huge mistake.  I decided that we needed to leave
immediately, to get him back in Austin before I confessed.  I was afraid
that when Chris learned what I'd done, he'd kill King.

   Don't we always make our worst decisions for the best of reasons?  As I
stood in the room that was supposed to be a special treat for us, I saw a
little note that claimed the sheets on our bed were 1000 count.  I started
to cry, I'd always wanted to make love on luxurious sheets, and I'd lost
that chance by getting fucked on an institutional sofa.

   I felt a longing for my husband that I'd never felt, and I knew that I'd
never have him again.  I was a slut, and a cheater and Chris deserved
better.  I remember a phrase from a class I'd taken on family law, "once a
cheater, always a cheater." I loved Chris too much to let him be saddled
with someone like me.

   Okay, I think you get the message, I was a total emotional mess.  That's
as close as I'll come to trying to make an exc...  to explain my
inexcusable behavior when Chris arrived.

   I knew that he knew, but when I saw him I understood that he hadn't
assimilated his knowledge.  Because he thought my cheating was so foreign,
he hadn't accepted it yet.  He was confused, and I tried to use that to
divert him from King.

   If I'm going to be entirely honest, I think, deep down, I hoped I'd be
able to have him just once more before I lost him.  Stupid huh?  The whole
sham held together for less than fifteen minutes.

   I saw him at the front desk as he came in, and I ducked into the
ballroom to hide from him.  I thought he go up to our room first and that
would give me a few minutes to collect myself.

   I'd no sooner sat down at an empty table than King sat across from me
and began telling me about how meaningful our new relationship was, how
special and how necessary it was to keep it quiet.  The son of a bitch was
still trying to set me up!

   Furious, I was about to tell him how the cow ate the cabbage when I felt
Chris' hand on my shoulder.  I almost jumped through the roof and I was
desperate to get him away from King.  I intended to ask him to join me in
our room to help me pack.  What came out was some drivel about our sheets
being 1000 count.

   I saw his expression and I was about to blurt out what I'd done when
King asked me to dance.  I gritted my jaw.  The only thing I wanted to do
with him was castrate that son of a bitch.

   I'll no more understand why I agreed to dance with him than I'll
understand why I let him fuck me.

   Once we were on the dance floor, he resumed his line about the need to
keep our "affair" quiet.  He told me I needed to calm down if I didn't want
to make Chris suspicious.

   It made me sick.  Oh I didn't spew, but the idea that I let this bastard
hang horns on my Chris turned my stomach.

   I smiled at him, I gave him my most seductive smile and in the sweetest
voice I could muster I said,

   "In today's society I'm not allowed to cut your balls off, but I'm going
to ruin you.  I'll have your job, your money, your law license and anything
else you put any value upon.  "You've cost me Chris, and you don't have any
clue at just how high the price tag for that will be."

   I spat in his face and I left him standing there.

   As I walked back to the table, I saw Chris' back as he left the room.  I
thought he was going to our room and I decided that I needed a few minutes
to clam down before I faced him.

   That's when it happened.  It's called a fugue state.

   Let me explain.  I don't want you to think that what Chris and I shared
was some sort of weird science fiction mind reading.  Mostly, I think our
ability to read each other's body language with unerring accuracy.  We knew
each other so well we were just never wrong.

   The only thing at all weird was that I was always aware of Chris.  You
hear stories about how some wives or twins know when the other is in
trouble, but can't explain it.  Well I can't explain it either.

   What happened a few minutes after I saw Chris leave is that I became
aware that I didn't sense him!  He was gone, I knew he wasn't dead, but he
wasn't there.

   I've learned through my therapy-- about the only thing useful from my
therapy-- that Chris probably went into what is called a fugue state.  It
similar to dissociative amnesia, and it sort of means that the body
continues to act on auto pilot but the mind has taken a vacation to a dark
place.

   I was now worried sick.  I called and his cell went to voice mail.  I
left a message asking where he was and if he was okay.

   I can't tell you how scared I was.  I was trembling, and I was
disoriented, but I somehow managed to make it to our room.  I collapsed on
my bed, a bed I knew I'd never share with my husband.

   It was about an hour or so before I mustered enough pride and anger to
put an end to my pity party.  King was going to pay!  I'd told him what I
was going to do, now I needed to figure out how I was going to do it.  I
knew that with the way the schools responded to threats of sexual
harassment suits, I could get him fired.  I also knew that I wouldn't do
that.

   I'm a lawyer, I know what the law allows, but I also know what's right
and wrong.  King seduced me, he never offered me grades or favors or issued
any threats.  But I also knew that because he was the type of slime ball he
was, that I wouldn't be the only one.  I'd been seduced, but I was sure I'd
be able to find some of his students who had been harassed.  I would have
that bastard's job, just like I'd promised him earlier.

   I wanted to tell Chris that I'd get vengeance when I realized that I
still couldn't sense him.

   I'm pretty good with words, but I don't have the vocabulary to tell you
how that scared me.  I decided that Chris was probably on his way back to
Austin.  Again, I'm not sure how I knew he "wasn't all there," but I did.

   I called again, and again I got voice mail.  I hoped he might listen to
my message and I decided to use "that voice" the one all spouses know, it's
the voice that announces that this topic isn't open for discussion.  I
hoped to snap him out of what ever he was in, and I wanted to tell him that
I would get King fired for what he'd done to Chris.

   I'm not sure how I spent the next two hours.  Perhaps I entered my own
little fugue state.  Then suddenly, I felt a new bolt of fear shoot through
me.  I was terrified for Chris.  I had an image of Chris with a gun in his
hand and grabbed my cell phone and again went to voice mail.

   I tried not to let my fear show in my voice, but I couldn't help it.  I
was sobbing and begging Chris.  I was trying to make him understand that
what I'd done, what I was, didn't change who he was.  Finally, I said
something important, although I didn't realize it for several years.  I
said "we would get past this." The important word there is "we."

   Less than two minutes later Chris was back.  I knew he wasn't okay, but
for the first time in over three hours I could sense him again.  I wish I
hadn't.

   "I could feel his pain." I know that phrase was hackneyed and overused
when I was still a kid, but in this case it was true.  I had an image of
King on top of me, inside me and I lost it.  His room was only a few doors
down from mine and I flew out into the hall and I began pounding on his
door.  I wanted to kill him.

   I know that Chris felt the same way, he'd already driven his hunting
knife all the way through King's front door.

   All I could think about as I pounded on that door was that if Chris
killed that piece of shit he'd go to prison.  Even Texas no longer allowed
a man to get away with murder...  even justified murder.  I couldn't let
that happen, if someone was going to prison it was going to be me, it was
less than what I deserved.

   And Chris was gone again!  I left with him.

   I'm not sure where he went, but I ended up in a mental hospital.  It was
two days before I "came to." I called Momma and told her to come get me.  I
wasn't insane, but I wasn't a whole person either.

   I understood what I'd done to Chris and I hated myself for it.  Because
we were "connected," it was far worse for him, he knew that there was no
excuse.  I'd broken him and I'd made him something he could never have
envisioned.  I made him a cuckold.  For years, just thinking about what I'd
made Chris was enough to send my blood pressure through the roof.

   I'm not going to bore you with the sad saga of my life after Chris left.
I will say that it almost killed Momma.  Chris was a son to her and she
begged me to try to find some way to try to get past what I'd done.

   She never understood that even if somehow Chris could forgive me, if
somehow he wanted me to stay with him, all that would do, would be to lower
my respect for him.

   I could never be married to a wimp!  Besides, even if we could somehow
work past that, even if he was misguided enough to trust me the way a
husband should trust a wife, I could never trust myself.

   I'm a cheat and a slut.  I broke the most important vows it's possible
for a person to make.  By doing that I broke the finest man I've ever met.
Chris needed healing and I knew I couldn't-- I didn't have the health in me
to heal him.

   What I did have was a burning need for revenge, and I got it in spades.
I found two student from King's summer class who he'd bedded.  One did it
under threat and one for the promise of grades.

   I'm not particularly proud of the tactics I used to force them to come
forward, but King was publicly fired.  I got my law degree, passed the bar.
I found women who had worked for him and been harassed.  I sued on their
behalf and I wiped him out financially.  It took longer but I found a
former client who had been pressured to sleep with him and I got him
disbarred.

   How did I manage to find and get those women to come forward?  Let me
just say that Chris's second major was in computers.  Some of his friends
wanted to see justice done.  I gave my portion of the settlement to the
women's shelter.

   All of that took almost four years.  They were lonely years, and my
obsession with getting revenge was my life.  Did I date?  No!  I know there
are men who don't mind getting hooked up to a slut and a cheat, but I knew
I could never be involved with a "man" like that.

   There were only a few interludes in my drive to vengeance.

   The first was when Chris brought Cindy down to meet Mom and Dad.  It
almost killed Momma, but I understood why Chris couldn't see either of us.
All it could do was bring up memories of a life that I'd destroyed. 
Frankly, I didn't think I could bear to see him either.  We'd had so much
and it was gone.  Have you ever seen "Gone With the Wind?"

   They show it every year at the Paramount, a restored jewel of a theater
in Austin.  Our relationship was like the scene where you see a destroyed
Twelve Oaks after the war.  It had been so beautiful and it could never be
rebuilt like it was.  Just the memory of it...  well I'd take to my bed
every time I thought about it, so I didn't.

   I was shocked when Cindy asked to meet me on that visit.  I have to tell
you, I was a bit schizophrenic.  To my credit, I truly wanted Chris to be
happy.  I wanted him to find a good woman, marry and have as normal a life
as he could.

   However, I couldn't help hating the woman who would take my place... 
until I met Cindy.  No one could hate Cindy.  We met at the Southwestern
campus in Georgetown.  It's beautiful, peaceful place.  She was there to
see the chapel and that's were we talked.

   I wasn't sure why I agreed to meet her.  Okay, I was curious and I still
felt protective of Chris.  I walked in determined to be polite, but I also
think that I'd decided that if she wasn't good enough for him, I'd find
some way to send her home like damn carpetbagger.

   I don't remember exactly what she said, it was something about her being
ordained and confidentiality, but suddenly I was pouring out my whole life
story.  I didn't spare her any of the sordid details of what I'd done.

   When I was finished, she said, "Your revenge won't make you whole you
know.  You and Chris are brother and sister and neither of you will be
whole until you're able to mend that portion of your lives."

   I, uh, expressed my profound disagreement with that preposterous idea.
That would have made our marriage incest!

   Cindy just smiled and we talked and after a while...  well I didn't
agree exactly, but I did understand that I wanted to spend more time with
her.

   I won't say we became friends, because that was the only time we ever
met face to face.  However, we did keep in touch.  Cindy never saw me as a
threat to her marriage, but she constantly reached out to me as if I were
an estranged sister-in-law.  In the strangest way, I began to feel the same
way.

   When Momma told me that Cindy's sister agreed to carry their babies, I
had another one of those split personality moments.  I yearned to carry
Chris' babies and was jealous-- not of Cindy but of Sandy.  Still, I was
too caught up with my plans for revenge and even if I'd wanted to, I just
didn't have the time.

   A few weeks after King was disbarred, Cindy called me.  She wanted me to
consider coming to a family Christmas at Mom and Dad's.  She was going to
get Chris to fly down there with their children and she thought Christmas
would be a wonderful time for Chris and me to reconcile.

   I wasn't ready to face him but it marked the start of Cindy's campaign.
I'd spent a year in therapy, and all I got were a bunch of platitudes and
attempts to convince me that I wasn't responsible for fucking King.

   My therapist talked about father images, and authority figures and the
pressure King brought to bear on me.  All that was true, but it wouldn't
have mattered if I'd had the character that I should have had.

   Cindy was different, she didn't talk religion, which surprised me.  I
did use it though.  Right from the start, I used her ordination to insist
that everything we talked about be confidential.  I didn't want Chris to
know we were talking.

   I think because she never tried to justify what I, did she helped me
find ways to move forward.  I'm an only child, but I began to understand
what it would be like to have a sister-in-law.  I wanted that, and I
wanted...  I wanted some sort of relationship with Chris.

   We talked for almost a year.  Cindy was begging me to let her begin to
work with Chris so we could try to build a new relationship as brother and
sister but frankly I was afraid.

   If it's possible to love someone you've only met once, I love Cindy.  I
knew she was totally secure in her marriage, but I wasn't sure that I could
deal with that.

   I don't mean that I resented her marriage, but I never forgot that I was
a cheater, an adulteress, and a slut.  I hadn't been with another man since
King.  Cindy encouraged me to think about dating.  She made me understand
that while I couldn't change what I'd been, I could decide what I wanted to
be.  She gave me hope for a normal future.

   That wasn't an altogether good thing.  I was afraid if I were to spend
time around Chris I would not honor his marriage.  I couldn't do that to
him or to Cindy.  It took most of a year to reach the point where I
understood that Cindy trusted me, and she trusted Chris.  She was sure that
even if I were slip, Chris would not.

   I wasn't sure.  I decided that I'd try to find a man to date.  I wanted
to believe Cindy that there were good men out there who would help me
overcome my whorish past.  I wasn't sure how I felt about a man who would
want to marry a fixer up project, but I thought it might give me some
protection against my nature.  I lowered my standards and I went on a few
dates.  They were disasters.

   Then things got strange.  I learned from Momma that Cindy was going to
start to look for someone to carry her "babies." Her "babies" were the two
embryos who had been created at the same time the twins were.

   I thought about it, I prayed about it, and I decided that I wanted to
carry them.  Cindy and I began to talk in earnest about it.  I began to see
another side of her.

   That lady had some sort of steel in her constitution.  She wouldn't
agree to consider it without Chris's full support.  She understood that by
carrying her babies I would be part of their family.

   However, she was convinced that the new status would help both of us.

   She said Chris was still weak emotionally.  I can't tell you how bad
that made me feel.  Chris was so strong in most areas.  He was a wonderful
success in business.  He was making a fortune and was a gifted manager.  He
was involved with the twins and was becoming a local community leader. 
There was a group encouraging him to run for the local school board.  But
like me, he wasn't whole.

   Cindy and I finally agreed on a plan.  She got a couple of appointment
cards from the fertility clinic.  In the slot for the time of the
appointment she wrote, "Of your choosing."

   The idea was that she would first introduce the idea that she had an
applicant to carry her babies.  Then she would spend as much time as she
needed to prepare Chris for who that applicant would be.

   She told me that while it had taken her a year to get me to the point of
being ready to come back into Chris' life, she didn't think it would take
her six months move Chris in that direction.

   Then the day arrived.  Cindy called all excited about a book deal she'd
just signed.  She thought it would be a great way to start to introduce the
idea to Chris.  She said she was sending me a copy of the appointment card
she was going to show him.  When she thought he was ready, she'd set up a
meeting and I could give him my copy to prove that I wanted to atone for
what I'd done.

   She told me one more time that it would be his choice, but she was
certain that he needed me as much as I needed him.  I know it sounds crazy
but, while it wasn't the same I'd never actually lost our "connection," and
through that, I was certain that Cindy was right.  With Cindy's help we
could begin a new relationship, as brother and sister.

   Of course, by this time I had so much faith in Cindy that I'd have
believed her if she told me that the sun was going to rise in the West.

   She was wrong!  It wasn't the time.  She died that night.  Momma called
and I lost it.  How could God be so cruel?  How could He do this to Chris?

   I have to tell you that I said some pretty hard and harsh things to God
that night.  It didn't get any better either.  I was determined that I was
going to go to the funeral.  I knew that I'd have to do it without Chris
seeing me, but I couldn't let her be buried without being there.

   The second time I saw Cindy was in her coffin.  I made arrangements to
see her when Chris wasn't there.  I hadn't cried that much since that night
in Dallas.

   I can't tell you how hard it was.  Through our connection, I could feel
Chris' pain and I hated myself that I couldn't do anything to help.  I
spent a full week in Philadelphia.  I didn't speak to anyone.  I spent a
lot of time at her church both before and after her funeral.  I prayed for
some way to show Chris that he wasn't alone in his grief.  He had so many
friends...  but I knew he didn't know it.

   Finally I went back home.  When I opened my mail, there was the note
from Cindy with the card.  It was full of her joy and hope for her babies.
I spent some real quality time with God, telling him what I thought of him.
How could he do this?

   I also spent more hours thinking about what I should do than I'd spent
on anything in my life to this point.  I knew that Cindy believed that
those few cells created from Chris' sperm and her ovum were people.  I
didn't know what I believed but in this case my opinion didn't matter.

   I also knew that Chris hadn't been prepared for what Cindy and I had
discussed...  he certainly hadn't agreed.  Still, when all was said and
done, I knew that I had to let him know.

   I debated for days.  Finally, I sent him a birthday card...  with the
appointment card inside.  I knew he'd understand.  For once I don't know
what Chris will do.  I also don't know what I should do.

   I am bed rock certain that if Cindy had lived, I could have accepted
Chris as my brother.  I would have tried to find a husband.  I would not
have interfered in their marriage.  Now, I'm not sure.  Can I still just be
a sister?  Should that be all I'll be?  Should I try for more?

   What do you think I should do?

   ------



   I hope you enjoyed this, I realized after I began getting feedback on
Dilemma that I had not provided the readers with a my picture of Lorelei.
That made the nature of his Dilemma a little different than I intended.  I
need to thank CopyCarver for all his hard work on Lorelei's story.  The
errors that are here were made after his last effort.


   ------ The End ------