Posted from Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction
(c) 2000 Sean Farragher. All Rights Reserved. 

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KILLERS OF LOST DREAMS: 
"MATADORES DE SUENOS PERDIDOS" 

Further Adventures of Mary Irish & Jane Sicily on the Planet 
Krypton

HOW SUPERMAN JUMPED FROM THE ROOF 
OF THE ROCK CLUB "MATADORES" TO HIS DEATH
PROVING, SO HE BELIEVED, THAT HE COULD RISE AGAIN.

Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Thomas Farragher All Rights Reserved

Kryptonite: 

Extra-terrestrial mineral that is impossible at ordinary 
temperatures and pressures by the rules of physical chemistry. In 
the superman myth kryptonite is both a source of life and death. 
Shall we say it is beyond good or evil, male or female?

Year is 2024: 

There were two handsome, well-endowed women modestly undressed 
for July sitting at the last table of hotel-bar that rose up near 
the Snake River challenge to Ansel Adam's Grand Tetons. 
Appropriately, the club was called by the locals, "Matadores de 
Sueños Perdidos" (Killers of Lost Dreams) 

The club, like many famous landmarks in the US Federal Park 
System constructed in 2020 by the Morgan Company Inc., imitated 
the "Fall of the Universe" standard for decadence and depravity. 
D&D, known in the past as Dungeons and Dragons, had found more 
than a new association. The game lifted one veil of consciousness 
illustrated like Grimm's' fairy tales: no greater fatuous display 
off female genitalia could be constructed. Models of the cloud 
formations like the New Business Model, displayed in class jars, 
had been pickled with the seminal extractions of the failed 
freelancers. 

At that moment, "the Fall," as it was known, stretched the 
musical boundaries to become the anthem of the Popular Rave 
group, Marginal Intent.

Because of the overpayment of participation fees, the planned and 
very formal suicide of 345 (liturgy by OMNI) by the sinking of a 
large raft in blood fed waters off the coast of the Coral Sea 
failed only because 24 people survived. It seems the sharks would 
not eat them.  One of the survivors said that one of the sharks 
whispered to her that they were related. Further, the shark said, 
"I was her natural niece.

It was that "darling Rave, as it was described, that was Prophet 
and script for the next thousand years. This interesting cultural 
advance, as a it was described by publicist from within the Rave 
organization, made human decline the operating system for a new 
network of self programming computers and networks.  The Descent 
of Man and its his and her wardrobe made the old fashioned geek 
show a tame anachronism if one could compare historical 
phenomenon. 

Suicide in the year 2024 was considered socially acceptable and 
encouraged to support the human sink-holes like the most of the 
Matadores clubs that proliferated when alienation became ordinary 
sin one step up from Mortal or as one wag said, immortal.  

In 2011, the Department of Interior, by special exception of the 
US Congress, began leasing land in the park system to 
corporations to pay for maintenance of the Federal Park System. 
No one protested the rapid growth of commercial clutter.  It was 
if the wilderness, no longer valued, was squandered as a more 
usual political fuel. 

Cost management and cost accounting, one index of life style, The 
US Federal government run by a consortium of private business 
knew that this grand lottery, or pyramid scheme, could not be 
sustained. 

The US Constitution amended finally amended in 2009 began that 
antisocial walk towards the take over of the Executive Branch by 
US Corp, Inc. 

The CEO of US Corp became with the much contested election of 
2020, President of the United States affirming the direction of 
governments towards the full integration of new business model 
with a political process that was more representative of a more 
affluent but less intellectual middle class.

Many claimed that a Constitutional amendment "was without 
sufficient "demonstration of new process" as the scheme was not 
sufficiently different (in consequence) from the system by which 
the US Post Office operated when it became a private business and 
lost its Constitutional authority." So ruled Chief Justice Manuel 
Perrante in his majority decision (7-2) of the US Supreme Court 
(July 3, 2019).

MARY IRISH AND JANE SICILY FIND IN THE OTHER THAT WHICH IS CALLED 
"MURETE"
DEATH HAS DOMINION AND LUST IS FIRST FACT AND AN "UNCOMMON" 
PSYCHOLOGY

Imagine, getting drunk, watching old fashion lazar music streak 
red, blue, in a variety of sync, as your eyes searched over the 
edge of the 20th floor into the fog of dull city cars and taxis 
blaring in the traffic below like a lake of anger and dirty steam 
floating on par boiled macadam



One woman, the much taller one, had auburn hair with gray eyes. 
She called herself Mary Irish. The other, dark and just as pretty 
with a touch of a turn to her mouth was Jane Sicily. Tonight, 
Mary wore a white silk blouse cut to the center revealing all but 
her nipples, and Jane's almost the same was made of magical 
material that made the garment transparent an opaque depending on 
the heat of her body. 

Jane's transparent plastic cloth blouse felt like silk. The 
material developed recently by a 26-year-old chemist who named 
the silk like cloth "Lucy Silk" after the inventor's girl friend. 
The make believe fantasy cloth quickly became known as Lucifer's 
silk. No matter what the origin of the cloth, or its 
revolutionary polymer chemistry, Jane's pregnant nipples stood up 
like erotic statues against a dark brown field in the naked room.

Mary, Jane's girl friend for five years, could not keep her eyes 
off Jane and her blouse. Mary would turn away from Jane from time 
to time, almost surprised by her embarrassment, as Jane did, when 
Mary shifted her legs to expose her freshly shaven pubis 
sculpted, as Mary said, "like a heart with a red patch of floss."

Every Sunday night, about nine thirty they would come back to 
this club, sit at this same table, and talk about the same guys 
they had fucked or would meet someday. It was girl and boy talk. 
Usually, it was all the same. 

Like many others, Jane and Mary came to "Matadores" not for the 
watered down booze, the fake music or the clutter of pick up 
lines and passed out memories. They, with the multitudes as 
chorus, gathered at the railing to watch folks jump from the roof 
top garden through the silent canopy of arc lights and air 
drives. The gusts of powerful air (kin to the anti gravity 
exhaust of the modern Jet plane) caught the folks that jumped to 
propel them upward. Caught by gymnasts employed by the hotel, the 
"heroes" returned to the roof of the club were celebrated as the 
matadors of death

It was not a perfect system. Some of the jumpers you did not 
catch the cyclone. Only jumpers authorized by the hotel jumped 
with any hope for survival. It was known by "regulars" at the 
club that most of the successful jumpers wore a hidden computer 
that guided them through the gusts to safety. Others who jumped 
for personal reasons (and there were many of them) usually did 
not survive. Like most illusions, the protected jumpers knew that 
they were protected. It was "safer than a parachute jump" the 
management of the hotel advertised. It was quite a spectacle. 
Imagine jumping out of the sky near the Grand Tetons the Snake 
River winding in an arc below your fall. Many were tempted who 
were not authorized jumpers.

For those not protected who jumped anyway few survived. Most of 
freelance jumpers who did not survive the free fall jump used 
self-programmed computers. Management did not try to prevent the 
unauthorized jumps. It served their interest to have some die. In 
fact, some of the contracted jumpers died. The system as designed 
was imperfect.

Once a week or more frequently, "free lancers" as they were 
called, jumped off the roof proving again that stupidity and 
bravery are cousins. 

When you jumped, throwing your arms back, letting the wind enter 
your mind, keeping your feet together, which was considered a 
safety trick, making your body mass a more regular shape, you 
would tumble into oblivion. Wearing all the finery you are your 
ego or lack of one allowed you tumbled edge over edge listening 
to Beethoven or Bach played by your supporters (or paid 
worshipers) as your fare well anthem. 

Raising your eyes to God or Mammon as one survivor said in a 
recent interview, you felt at that pause of no return that your 
life and its works depended on your courage. Proving you could do 
it, using free fall parachute jumps for practice, "you felt the 
surge of magnificence," he said. "Living or dying," the man said, 
"did not matter. It was, as the God Wind said, the survivor 
jumper, a free lancer, said, reciting Wind's poems like he had 
written the mantra himself." He said, "it was partially sport and 
acceptable suicide." 

At least twice a week, usually on Friday night, at least one free 
lancer stood at the railing and tried to jump. No one would stop 
him. He had an entourage. Sometimes he did not jump, leaving the 
railing, most found the bar and got drunk. 

Most, if not all of the freelancers died, but that was the risk 
you took when you stood up at the railing pushed aside fear and 
let go as you tumbled down to become a footnote to history at the 
back doors of what some called a beautiful death. 

If you jumped, living or dying in the attempt, you placed 
yourself in the range of the Tetons and you believed, or at least 
you said you did, that your life had been or would be renewed. 
Many of the jumpers were like the actress Dorothy Bouchier, 
great, great granddaughter of the famous English actress Chili 
Bouchier.

Meet Jane Sicily and Mary Irish

Tonight at "Matadores de Sueños Perdidos" was no different. If 
you sat down just for a moment with Jane and Mary at their corner 
booth, hidden from most of the crowd, but in clear view of the 
space where the protective railing lowered to make it easier for 
the jumpers, you could hear the twenty-two year old Jane tell 
Mary talk openly about their sex lives. 

"This guy, you know," Mary said, as she played with the top edge 
of the blouse that barely covered her breasts, "fucked me so hard 
last week I felt it for three days. He was not subtle at all," 
she stopped for a second, lowering her hands to her best friend 
Jane who would be twenty-five in a few months. "I met here last 
week when you had to leave early, Mary continued, looking at Jane 
whose nipples shimmered as her body warmed making her blouse 
transparent. "That guy, stoned on his ass," Mary said, "made me 
come when he slapped my ass. Haven't had that done since we 
played DOM games in High School. 

Jane, content to look at the animated Mary as she talked, 
listened content to absorb the truth of bullshit as Jane often 
called it. 

Not saying one word, Mary continued. "The fucker was a shit, 
bottom line."  Turned on by her story, Mary moved her legs back 
and forth in her seat. Wearing a very short white skirt, every 
time her legs moved, the skirt would ride up exposing her plum, 
as she called it, when she allowed it. Always in control, Mary 
left nothing to chance. If she moved her top, letting her breasts 
show pushing the small pears out, her breasts barely rippled the 
cloth that held them in.

Mary continued, lighting a cigarette. "When I reached down to rip 
his nipples he pulled away. He didn't mind fucking my ass with 
his thick cock. He was just too big. No, really, trust me on 
this, he was too big."

Doubt if I will fuck the selfish shit again. Next time some guy 
with a huge dick insisted on fucking my ass, I would insist that 
he let me fuck his ass with a strap-on first. Some kinky guys 
really like that. You knew one, Jane. I know you have one. 
Harness or double dildo.

"Yes, both" Jane said, smiling, amused by Mary's story, Jane 
imagined how she seduced Mary that first time many years ago. 

Ignoring Jane, Mary rushed on. Jane leaned back, happy to be 
quiet, listening, and she encouraged Mary to continue.

Getting back to the story, Mary continued. "If the guy let me do 
him with my harness, I would hurt him to the same degree he hurt 
me. If he were cool, when he did me again he either would hurt me 
or would be too gentle. Sympathy or rage, does it matter, Jane 
thought, pretending to laugh at Mary as she continued to mock 
sex, some man or men in general, Jane thought. 

Jane loved men and women. "I am a true bisexual she told her 
mother when she asked Jane if she would ever married. Her mother 
answered. "I am one too." 

Jane thought of that story as Mary continued.

Jane interrupted Mary asked, "What happed with the guy last 
night," I was not there. As she spoke, Jane looked down at her 
transparent blouse shifting it slightly so as her nipples 
hardened, as the temperature rose, her magnificent breasts, my 
one vanity, she told everyone, dominated the room like the Tetons 
in the surreal landscape panorama background to both women. 

Stopping to take several drags on her cigarette that she just 
lit, "You promised to tell me when we talked on the phone this 
afternoon," Jane wanted Mary to do the talking.

"You mean when you were getting fucked it yourself, dear Jane?"

"Never mind, Mary. Please."

"The guy I met here last night. I told you about him. I met him 
here last month during the great jump off. He was weird. He's a 
freelancer. Never met one before. They usually travel with their 
own troop. Just like the regulars here, they do not mix with the 
patrons. This guy is different, Mary said. He is softer and I am 
not sure I like him much. I felt sorry for him when I took him 
home, and besides I was horny, and he is one of the most 
beautiful men I have ever seen. All muscles when you look at him. 
When you touch, he is soft, female almost. Not very human. We 
might see him here tonight. I will introduce him. Want him for 
yourself? I share." 

"I don't like weak men," Jane said. Why would I want to fuck him 
or even let him make me come?

It is true I do like strong-minded intellectuals. They can really 
take you, and are not going to let you continue with out a 
challenge. 

Say it like it is Jane, Mary said. They won't take your shit. I 
like them that way, but when it is over, I want them to come back 
to me. I will not go to them. 

No, I do not care if I am the one in control or not, I want them 
that way," Jane insisted as she looked towards the place at the 
edge of the room where the men and some women would jump tonight. 
"Who wants a pussy, Jane said, surprising Mary. Jane rarely used 
street talk. 

"If I wanted a sissy, a little boy, I'd find a slave in the 
yellow pages," Jane continued pleased with how she shifted her 
language. "Besides, Mary we like different men and yes, women." 

Jane never said "and women." The last phrase of the sentence 
trailed off. Gaining composure, realizing what she had just said, 
Jane said, "Isn't this the reason we get off so well together."

It is more than being bisexual Jane thought, or getting over the 
fear of being with your own sex that first time. Jane crushed her 
black cigarette in the ashtray scattering the dust as she spoke. 
Why do I never say what I am thinking when it matters, she 
thought?

"Yes," Mary said, "get off says it best darling." 

I don't really like sex with men when it gets too complicated. 
Just like a man in that way. After I come, and he comes, I want 
him to go the fuck home. Feel differently about women, but then I 
rarely go there, and when I do I want it perfect." Mary knew she 
had not told the complete truth. She preferred to project an 
image, Jane thought. Ironically, Mary was more active as a 
bisexual than Jane. Unlike Jane Mary denied her compulsion. Just 
having fun, she would say, when challenged. 

What Mary did Jane realized, looking at her now, talking about 
this or that in graphic sexual terms, was pretend to be straight. 
Jane believed that Mary did this, knowing the woman for ten 
years, to keep her life less clutter. Jane knew that Mary 
preferred women. Mary told Jane that one night when they were 
both drinking and smoking some good shit. When Jane asked Mary 
about what she had said the next day, Mary dismissed it. "Never 
said that," Mary told Jane. "You must have been hallucinating. We 
have to stop smoking and drinking." 

"We won't stop any of it, Jane remembered telling Mary who had 
laughed it off. Forgetting is the easy way out Jane laughed to 
herself remembering that Christmas party last year, and looking 
back at Jane who just said, "I love your blouse, Jane, you're 
gonna drive the fuckers here crazy. Think I may take my top off 
later.

Jane looked at Mary, lowered her eyes, and told her how expensive 
the blouse had been. "I wanted one every since I saw that movie 
star Dorothy Boo (AKA Dorothy Bouchier). 

Jane hated small talk. "Mary, she said, "don't you find that you 
miss too much when you take on a mask, assume an attitude," 
digging at why Mary liked to push herself "back in the closet." 

Why can't she just say the word bisexual, Jane thought. Well, at 
least she is responsive. Why do I want her to say, "Look, I am 
bisexual, world. Take me."

"Miss what," Mary said, cutting back into Jane's trance. "All you 
get from some fucken guys is strained conversation and bullshit 
pillow talk.

You can't believe all men are liars, Jane said, speaking softly, 
slowly to keep Mary from jumping at her, trying to pound back as 
she often did. When Mary did that Jane usually got bored with 
Mary, and Jane tonight turned on by her girl friend intended to 
seduced Mary not that she believed that would be difficult. 

Jane loved how she and Mary looked together. Tall and short. Dark 
and light. Foul -mouthed slut and intellectual. Yet, we did 
switch personalities. That made the balance more than perfect, 
Jane sighed while Mary continued, listing the plus and minus 
qualities of many of their shared lovers. Jane struck by Mary's 
passionate descriptions remembered the videotape that they had 
shot of making love when they were in High School. We thought we 
were special, Jane thought. 

We even let the guys shoot the video, but we did not fuck them 
afterwards, Jane remembered. We locked ourselves in the bedroom 
and told them to fuck each other. Mary did wake up early, and I 
found her locked with both the guys.

"Guys are shits, Mary continued her litany.

Jane, interrupting Mary said, "I like the connections no matter 
how forced." 

Jane beautiful face and eyes danced while she spoke, lowering her 
hand to caress the inside of Mary's upper arm the patters of 
letters that spelled out "sex me."

"What? I am not full of shit. Sure," Mary said, sitting back, 
annoyed, but not wanting to get Jane in one of her, I am smarter 
than you moods. "Men never acknowledge how we let them escape 
judgment when their I am the best fucker in the world performance 
sucks," Mary said, "looking hard into Jane's eyes, but putting 
her hand on top of Jane's keeping her hand there when Jane 
started to move away. 

"I know you have stroked the ego of a man who could not get it 
up. Why do you let him pretend he likes sucking cock and clits 
more than fucking? You know they do not.

"Some do, Jane said, moving her fingers to the under cup of 
Mary's small pear breasts, "I just love a man who is honest. "I 
know if I am even partially responsible for some of the mask, how 
can I not expect men and yes women too to give back when and if I 
cannot give. 

"Give back. Guys know themselves. Being like them is the only 
way. Take and fuck 'em up first. Jane, my darling, how can you be 
so naive."

"Not believe," Jane openly said as she , 
tenderly massaged Jane's breast, watching Mary close her eyes, 
tighten her thighs, putting her head back, she let Jane continue, 
saying only, "don't stop," when she thought Jane was stopping. 

Feeling is dangerous for Mary, Jane thought.

Mary sensing Jane, knowing she could often hear Jane's mind not 
as words but as mood, stood up forcing Jane to stop.

Going back to the conversation, almost as if the caress of her 
breasts had not happened, said.  "Sure. Swear you are not stoned 
now, and I might believe that the hotel's regular jumpers do it 
without any protection. That life is not fixed. Fate contrived. 
What is my responsibility? How do I both acknowledge fate and 
contrary to reason accept responsibility and consequences for 
what I choose to do."

You remember our conversations in college. You always believed in 
free will, and I in the unavoidable fates. Barnard was good for 
that. Why did we go to the same school Jane? We do things too 
well together.

"I know I was selfish." Jane answered. "That is why I prefer the 
company of women." 

"Sure we are," Mary caressed Jane's hand reaching out to really 
hold both of them bring their hands up to Jane's mouth so Jane 
could kiss and then suck for just a moment the tips of Mary's 
fingers.

"Fucking guys," Mary continued, "we get to clean the bed, wash 
the dishes, suck them off, make them come. We get the illusion of 
being powerful. Don't think they want to give any of it up." 

"We are more fucken powerful," Jane said. 

"What shit, are you kidding me, Mary laughed?" 

Jane suddenly pulled her hands back and turned away from Mary, 
and said nothing. 

"Fuck no," Mary was intent now in winning her points. "Don't you 
just love the way you can make them do what you want just by 
rolling your ass to the left or right pretending to screw, but if 
you are genuine, enjoy the quiet of the after shocks, and just 
want to be still afterwards, they squirm, feel guilty, and are 
anxious to get up and out of there. Well, so do I. I want to be 
rid of them too at the proper time. I really like faking them 
out," Mary said, going in circles, repeating her arguments, 
knowing she had no control, but consciously not admitting any 
weakness. Lighting up another cigarette helping herself to one of 
Jane's, Mary continued relentlessly, "Have you ever tried to fake 
hard breathing,"  "Exhausting and looks shitty, doesn't it. I 
practice," Mary bragged. "That is how I get it just right. I can 
twist my ass in a subtle screw; they always come when I want 
them. Never tell them you got too bored to come. You know what I 
mean."

"Why bother," Jane offered. "If you have to fake it, what's the 
point?"

"It feels good to fuck 'em up at times," Mary blew smoke away 
from Jane, feeling sure of her, thinking she had won. "Keeps the 
game tighter," Mary finished.

"Oh, I see. It is all a game. That's "fucked up' (saying the 
phrase intently) and you know it, Mary. How absurd. Do you really 
enjoy being poked and used by some fucker who wants only to get 
off? Worse, do you want to be one of them."

"II know," interrupting Jane, Mary said, "never tell a man you 
faked it. 

Looking around the room, nodding, realizing that Mary will never 
understand that there are times when all relationship is power, 
and times when there is more to it.

"OK," Jane said, anticipating Mary, "You know my problem. I am 
not sure of anything anymore. All that I believed is like the 
jumpers finding solace in death or faked heroism. What can you 
believe? We are here. We enjoy the excitement. We come here to 
meet men and women, live vicariously through their struggle, so 
we can fake one of our own.

Jane stopped speaking in mid sentence and Mary turned in her 
chair putting her legs up on another chair, leaning back, opening 
her legs, and flashing her cunt at this guy and Jane who sat a 
few feet away. 

"Yes, I want only truth and not I believe there is none," Jane 
continued, "I know you enjoy it, Mary. I saw you and the guy. You 
know the brothers we fucked together in Rio last year. Did not 
understand a word of their Portuguese but they had rough hands 
and seemed as if they never got soft. I like that sometimes like 
you I want the illusion without the truth of it all. Now, I am 
lost, just like the name of this sad fucken club we attend like 
church at least twice a week. The locals gave it that name."

Locals, what the fuck do you mean, Jane.

You know, Mary, the kitchen help. The unwashed we ignore. The sad 
fuckers who work ten hours a day so we can suck rich cock.

"My, my Jane what has happened to you. Never heard you curse like 
this?"

"You just are never there," Jane said, upset now, pulling her 
hands back from Mary's.

" I am never there. Shit, I am the only one who understands the 
new rules. Earth to fucking Jane, where the fuck are you?" 

Suddenly Mary's mood changed. She had been there before. If you 
made Jane angry, you lost the night. "Isn't worth it," Mary said, 
leaning over to Jane, placing her head on Jane's shoulder, Mary 
looked upward at Jane who was not surprised by Mary's abrupt 
change. 

In response, after a few moments, Jane wrapped her hands around 
Mary's face and tickled that spot behind her left ear that Mary 
loved to be caressed.

Jane hated and loved when Mary switched, gave it up, rolling 
towards her belly up like a bitch dog. 

Having listened to Mary's pretense at power, Jane felt 
uncomfortable with the change in position, but she brushed Mary's 
hair from her eyes.  Teasing now, Jane continued, aggressive, she 
exposed the brown edge of Mary's very comfortable nipples. 

Finally after a moment, Mary reached up and kissed Jane lightly 
on the mouth lingering softly opening Jane's lips, and just as 
suddenly as she kissed, Mary pulled back, putting the back of her 
hand up to her own lips.

"You taste like fucking," Mary said. 

"I told you on the phone I was engaged all afternoon," Jane 
laughed. "In fact I was fucking him while we talked and planned 
tonight."

"I knew it was a man. You taste like cum and toothpaste. How 
weird, but I like it"

"What an imagination," Jane teased back. "You are faking it. I 
really brushed my teeth. I am very clean you know."

"Not like me," Mary added. I like funk.

"Not sure about that Mary," Jane said, choking and laughing as 
she sipped her drink. I loved making love to you after I watched 
you make love to that guy. You know what I liked best. Watching 
him get off ogling us. What an ellipse, no an flattened sphere 
like the earth."

Jane played with napkins, while she talked drawing abstract 
doodles that seemed calm given the rise and fall of the 
conversation. Maybe I should just take her home tonight, Jane 
thought as Mary continued to talk so everyone within ten feet 
could hear what she said. At this place, most did not care. They 
were there for the show, the jumpers. At that moment, a 
freelancer had just left the railing. Said he needed to pee. 
Leaving he did not return. Some of us do have good sense, Jane 
though.

Watching Mary smile and greet some guys they both knew, Jane 
thought, I love sex with her, Jane thought. 

Mary asked. "Why are you staring and laughing at me," and saying 
that Mary pulled sharply at Jane's arm jostling Jane's very large 
breasts stretching through invisible silk. "I love that blouse, 
so fucken evil," Mary said. "I want some."

Jane took Mary's hand, after gracefully removing Mary's 
cigarette, and pulled it to her breasts, letting Mary feel the 
transparent silk again. Mary just listened and said nothing.

"Yes, " Jane whispers, can you feel the child in my womb growing 
to my nipples? 

Mary did not know that Jane had confirmed the pregnancy. "Just 
found out for sure today," Jane said. They said I must be in my 
fourth month." How did they miss it for two months? I wanted it 
so much." 

"Did you use the Sperm Bank down at the Top of the cliff? That is 
the agency April had used. I am not ready for a kid, but when I 
am, that is it." 

"Bill, Mary's Brother, helped as you know," Jane added, almost as 
an after thought. "He made love to me before and after we went to 
the clinic to get it done. Yes, I knew I was taking a risk with 
paternity but he used a rubber both times. I hate condoms, but I 
needed something else. Maybe reality, who the fuck knows?"

"What if the fucker broke?" 

"Then it would have been very interesting before the DNA came it. 
Bill was great. He has three kids and a wife, and I am not sure 
what they would have said.

"I wish it had been my brother," Mary said, sincere, and 
perplexed by the change in conversation.

Yes, that would have been nice, but maybe too close. He turned me 
down. Said your sister-in-law would leave him

"She's a stupid cunt," Mary said.

"Now, who is putting down women," Jane shook her head. "Nerve 
mind," you know who I got," that Cuban Ball player, "Domincanus" 
-- The one who quit baseball for what they are calling now 
legitimate porn. I picked him out of a catalogue. I had to sign a 
release of course. Cost almost $20,000 and I could get as many 
"shots" as I needed until it was done.

"For that money, you could have just fucked him, Mary looked at 
Jane's breasts."

"I love that Jane said.

"What is that?"

When you stare and trace my breasts. Remember the models and the 
contour drawing we did at the League. Remember when that girl 
came up to us and asked if we were lesbians, and how embarrassed 
we became.

Ignoring Jane, Mary was thinking of that handsome Domincanus and 
his huge cock. Beautiful Porno, Mary said, repeating what was 
obviously in her mind.

"He probably sucks," Jane said, "slam bam guy," Jane said. "Who 
knows. Did you know he has blue eyes and very dark skin when he 
tans? He is the most graceful man I have ever seen. Actually, 
come to think of it, his eyes are transparent like my blouse. I 
wonder if his eyes get dark when he is cold," Jane seemed almost 
serious.

While the women talked, Mary gently played absent-mindedly with 
Jane's breasts. Jane's torso moved slowly to the pace and rhythm 
of Mary's hands feeding the ache inside the sway of the music. As 
Mary touched the underside of Jane's breasts, Mary opened and 
closed her legs. 

"You make me feel wonderfully odd," Mary said. I can feel you and 
the whole room watching. I love it. It makes me want to come so 
loud the whole bar would be our witness."

Jane did not say anything. Both women were silent. It was obvious 
they were looking inside the Tetons and the white clouds that 
covered the mountains in summer

When the woman screamed after jumping off the roof, Mary turned 
into Jane, silently questioning. 

"How can we let them," Jane answered. 

Feeling the hypocrite, neither Jane nor Mary had run to the ledge 
like most of others at the bar. It all happened quickly. The 
woman rolled her legs over the ledge and without saying a word 
let go.

Ignoring the excitement, but noting that she had looked away from 
the hotel jumpers gathering around the railing, Jane led Mary's 
hand her belly that was pierced in three places. Jane had many 
piercings over the years, but had tired of them except the one in 
her navel, and another in the hood of her clit.

Jane had bought the ring as a present for Jane's birthday.

"Is there anything wrong," Jane asked.

"You're shaking," Mary said, "No nothing at all," Mary's voice 
suddenly had changed from the pursuit of pleasure to the search 
for faith. "I just wonder what will come of us, sometimes. I 
believe in only myself. No, forget it, I don't even believe in 
you and I" 

"Philosophy my dear," Jane said, softened her voice. "Just 
laughing at how absurd we are. Here we are out on the town 
wanting some new and good sex, and we are caught up in this silly 
silent background dialogue about suicide and mountains and, yes, 
feeling each other up, teasing but not really wanting to be alone 
together."

Off center, Mary answered whispering and nibbling and licking at 
Jane's belly ring, "how could I not want you" 

"I love you Mary," Jane said, whispering so it would linger 
longer.

You are fucked up, Mary said, perplexed by Jane. Always so fucken 
serious. Can we just have fun? 

As she spoke, Mary pulled away from Jane, crossing her arms, she 
pretended to look askance, and Mary said, "what about me. You can 
have mine any time. Yours are at least two sizes larger. You have 
lost weight. What are they now? 

38 D. I lost 30 pounds. I am much shorter than you." 

Pausing, Jane suddenly said. "What are you talking about Mary. I 
do not love your breasts. I love you.

"Well I love your tits, and that's it, Mary mocked. Come on 
girlfriend, Mary bit her lips, and pretended to dance, be loose. 
"How could I not love yours," Mary said, cupping her breasts in 
her hands. "These are puny compared to yours."

At that moment, Mary and Jane started to laugh. Jane first. 

Sometimes self discovery runs into a dead end, and listening to 
them, you couldn't help notice that their talk seemed as if two 
streams of darling, sexy egos were spread thin over the veneer of 
the mindless fuck music that blared off the edge of the Ansel 
Adams landscape. All of this was obvious foreplay and prelude to 
the folks who would jump to a new life or death later that night. 
At that moment, Jane thought of the jumpers, and realizing that 
they gathered in an invisible room below, they waited for 
eternity. I admire their bravery, Jane thought. I must admit that 
it really turns me on almost as much as Mary, or Robert, when I 
am in the mood, for a man who knows how to at least be patient.

II. HOURS LATER THAT SAME NIGHT

Mary, speaking softly, but gesturing heavily, holding her thin, 
dark " blunt" so the smoke would waft away, finally said, after 
pausing too long on the brink of desperation, "I always get off 
center when I am drinking too much." 

As Mary swallowed the last of her fifth Tequila Sunrise, "Yes, I 
want that," Mary said to herself swaying into the background of 
the music as if she were part of the notation.

"What did you say," Jane asked.

Ignoring the question, Mary watched the men and women shift the 
mountains of their bodies. Mary pointed out the sexiest to Jane 
illustrating faults with distorted facial gestures and beauty 
with fake sighs.

It was all too obvious and Jane was bored as usual -- but not 
exactly with Mary. Jane realized she wanted Mary. I need to come, 
and all this philosophy is getting in the way. No way, Jane said 
to herself, I am not going to mess this up.

When Mary spoke, Jane's mouth open slightly, almost sexy, and she 
would say nothing, and then speak as if the words were a test of 
disorder or that nothing we all endure.

"You know you have beautiful eyes," Jane said, teasing Mary with 
a trite come-on.

Mary, almost drunk, ignored Jane, but said. " I like my eyes. 
They always connect, and why the come on bullshit now, Jane."

"Yes, I do, but you don't."

"Don't what"?

"You know want romance. That is what you say."

Mary couldn't stop laughing at Jane.

Jane wished she could say, "fucken tits, fucken A" like that 
stupid cowboy and his sister that she had met when she tagged 
along with Mary when Mary shot that convention at Vegas. Mary was 
a fair but not artistic photographer. She made money on western 
shots and imitation Ansel Adams.

That guy was so vulnerable and full of himself, Jane remembered. 
He had told her that he and sister often took vacations together. 
Neither of us are married he said. We just like to hang out. She 
remembered as she watched Mary shoot the couple that Mary seemed 
very turned-on. When Jane asked her about it later, Mary said, 
that guy is fucking his sister. She told me. Asked me to join 
them, which I did.

Mary cares about nothing, Jane realized. That is why I want her. 
I care about so much, Jane thought.

Jane was a Professor of Psychology at the University of Arizona. 
What else could I do, Jane said when asked by Mary why she liked 
teaching.

Jane, two or three hours into their night out, but not as drunk 
as Mary, watched her younger friend's breasts loose in too large 
blouse daring Jane to touch them again. 

From one instant to the next, Jane would study the nipple or a 
line on Mary's throat caught in the shadows of the lights 
flashing in the club or the reflection of the mountains.

Jane nodded watching Mary as she pushed her legs apart, lifting 
the short skirt higher, taking hold of her cunt, thinking of its 
space, wanting to separate the lips further as she watched Mary 
watch not only her but at least four guys leaning over the table 
now. Mary pulled back.

"You're gonna cause a riot, Mary, Jane laughed. Stop it. Put your 
cunt away." 

What a wonderful word, "cunt," Jane thought. I remember when I 
never could say that word and not have sister lecture me for 
hours about being used by men, Jane thought.

Distracted by Mary's semi-private show, Jane also pulled her not 
quite as short skirt down over her knees. "Look at that guy over 
there," Jane said. "He's the only one not looking at us." Jane 
said. "Why is the fucker sporting that obviously fake mustache 
and why wear a business suit here."

"Maybe it is so perfect the mustache is real," Mary said. "I like 
his thick graceful hands. He is too handsome to be imperfect; you 
know what I mean. Anyway, he is avoiding us. At least he refuses 
to make eye contact. I know I have tried several times."

"How could you darling, I thought you wanted me," Jane played up 
to Mary. "Sure, Yes, of course, Mary dear," Jane said. "Right now 
I am watching you suck that fucken jock half asleep at the bar. 
God, I love to watch you stir 'em up."

Lost in fantasy, Jane did not realize (or maybe she did) how her 
hand was lost between her legs deep in her cleft of her cunny. In 
the middle of Jane's flight of fancy, while Jane imagined the 
heft and mass of the guy's cock and how Mary was about to suck 
the tip, almost on cue, lightning flashed out over the patio, 
seemingly a fake gesture if that was possible. 

Jane and Mary clearly loved nature and believed all the artifacts 
of the natural world were physically real and any fantasy 
conjured.

Immediately after that first flash, Mary, felt quite alone and 
suddenly very small. Turning to Jane, Mary asked simply, "I need 
a cigarette. How about you?"

Jane handed the almost empty pack to Mary, took one herself, but 
accepted a light from some bloke who put his head in at the right 
time. Not exactly the come I imagined, Jane laughed to herself 
realizing how she had been interrupted. 

Turning away from "helpful hands," as she called men who liked to 
light them up, when she was sure of her light, Jane turned back 
to Mary and away from the guy who had burned his hand. He left 
quickly without an exit line.

"Maybe, he got it out of a box," Jane giggled. "You know the guy 
with the fake upper lip."

"What did you say, Jane," Mary said, self consciously looking 
down and pushing her tits together, admiring them, letting them 
close tighter so the effect of the cleavage was severe and the 
bands of the blouse would push up from the flesh revealing more 
of the inner surface and its sweep. Jane imagined the mountain as 
her mask, and talking to herself, she felt the pull of its core 
in her uterus. I know I do, she said. 

"What the fuck you talking about lady," Mary shook her head just 
a bit lost in the mixture of internal and external events. Mary 
had no idea what Jane meant or had seen. It was all a blur in the 
simpler sexual imagination of Mary, but then again how could Mary 
know what Jane had thought, but she did.

When Mary looked, the man with the fake lip was gone, and Mary 
had no clue as to the name of the fucking guy or what Jane had 
said. "That's nice," Mary said, about nothing.

Suddenly, Jane said, very excited and animated, "You see that 
other shit faced guy. The one wearing a black tee shirt and those 
new capes the guys think make them look powerful when and if they 
jump." 

Mary waved at him and said to Jane. "Yes, yes, I know what you 
are going to say. Yes, he is too cute to be worth anything." 

"Have you fucked him," Jane asked. 

"He's that weird guy I told you about. He did come here tonight. 
I told him I would fuck him again if he did. We could do him 
together. " 

"You never told me about him, Jane looked at Mary, lifting Mary's 
hands again.

Mary and Jane continued their banter as the guy happy to be 
almost invited pulled an empty chair up to the table pushing him 
between the women who shifted slightly annoyed that he had tried 
to sit between them. They did not let him.

"This one," Mary said, pointing to the guy, as if he were a 
painting, and not the man who was almost sitting in their laps, 
"told me last night after we fucked (yes, it was after) that he 
was a freelancer and would jump the roof tonight. He said he 
would dedicate the jump to my desire. He claims, get this, that 
he does not use the anti gravity, he floats before he hits the 
ground. 

Mary knew that the professional jumpers had a trick or two to 
give them some chance. What could this fucker do to reverse 
gravity without the device?

"Are you dead or alive now," Jane asked the man wearing the cape 
made of the same material as Jane's blouse, making the dark cloth 
both transparent and reflective, and Jane leaned into Mary so the 
man could see how Mary and Jane were connected. 

"Jane this guy can really move his ass," Mary added, taking hold 
of the guy's hand and placing it her lap. Holding Jane's other 
hand also, Mary looked back and forward at the man and then Jane, 
enjoying the absolute ebullient affection of the pair.

Jane not usually jealous of the way Mary touched the man, said, 
coming from no where, annoyed with Mary, perhaps wanting to 
embarrass her, said "I saw the way you fucked that guy in the 
back seat that time we went to that fucken drive in. When was 
that, last September? 

"What are you talking about, Mary was confused, startling the man 
by her tone, as Jane pushed Mary's blouse open exposing both 
breasts. At first, Mary resisted Jane, and pulled her arms up and 
the man, looked from one woman to the other, wondering who would 
blink first. The man delighted by the sexual tension could not 
believe his good fortune.

Wrestling for just a few seconds both women stopped almost at the 
same time and on cue paused to wipe away the intensity from their 
and palms and face. Mary while she adjusted herself, without 
turning her back, quickly released the back of her blouse.

Taking the top off, Mary loving wearing nothing. At the beach, 
she always swam completely in the nude. Wearing nothing is the 
same as taking off a jacket, Mary said, giving her blouse to the 
man, telling him to keep it for her, as a talisman for his jump. 

Jane virtually nude herself smiled at Mary, but the guy, breaking 
the space ran the back of his hand down Mary's breast, letting 
the edge of his palm lift it. He did it gracefully, casually, and 
then he did the same thing to Jane carefully lifting the 
transparent silk.

"You're breathing hard," Jane said to the guy.

"Fuck yes," he said. "Look at what's here. How can you not 
breathe hard? Fuck. I want you both," he said. "Right here, now. 
Climb into my skin and jump with me. You will feel my freedom."

After talking about freedom, the man did something that neither 
of the women expected. Pulling his cock out, he held it in his 
hands.

 Mary took the man's cock in her hand, and started to lean over, 
but she could not stop laughing, and Jane at first tried to pull 
her back, but then stopped.

"No way," Mary said. "I am not going to suck it. You want it too 
much."

"Why not, "Jane said. "We're were doing the same thing exposing 
ourselves without asking anyone here if they are offended. "Good 
for him," Jane said to herself, smiling inside, but not showing 
it.

"What the fuck you laughing at," he said, standing up, turning to 
first Mary who was laughing very loud. "You know my cock well." 

"Put it away," Mary shrieked. "Fuck no, not now, I am not drunk 
enough, besides I am waiting for your real show," alluding to his 
promise to jump off the roof with the professional jumpers. 

"I'm not used to being laughed at," the guy obviously had a sense 
of humor, said, almost too softly. "If you want to both fuck me," 
he said, "that can be arranged."

Jane intrigued by his offer, turned to him, putting her hands on 
the his shoulders, brushing her tits against the back of his 
hand, she said, "Sorry, I thought (nodding to Mary) I was looking 
at a dead man. Not into fucking dead cocks this season."

Not surprised by Jane's wit, the man, almost spoke, but first 
Jane turned back to Mary, she put her hand on his cock pulling 
him further into the threesome, but teasing him, "saying, I doubt 
you will get any of our ass tonight, shit, I know I am stoned out 
of my head, Mary, but you're really excited. Maybe we should." 
Mary startled put her hand over Jane's mouth, but Jane shook her 
hand away, isn't she Mr.? You do have a name. She is turned on. 
You must be able to smell her, Jane looked hard at Mary and the 
man and laughed at the absurd picture they made in the middle of 
a bar - not that anyone cared. 

"Never mind, Mary said. "He is mine, not yours," Jane teased 
pulling on the man's hand swallowing the whole hand edging it 
closer to her the cleft between her legs. Held there up to the 
wrist, by the hot clasp, not that he wanted to leave, the man 
tried to push Mary's thigh open which he did when he bit Mary's 
neck. 

Mary surprised by his tenderness, wanted him with Mary. I hope he 
makes it, Jane thought. I like how he was tender and not rough. 
His hand felt like a woman's, Jane thought.

I wonder if he has courage, Jane thought, to just reach pick me 
up and take one of us right here on the dance floor. What a 
fantasy.

The man said and did nothing, but moved the hand deeper into 
Mary's crotch, making Jane lean over closer so she could watch. 
Jane, in a better position to see how he pulled at his crotch 
with one hand and Mary's sex with the other, said, "Mary, I think 
he wants to jerk off more than make us come."

"Sure do the man said, anything you want."

Mary said, "let him do it here first for us. Let me see him come, 
and with the word "come," Mary pushed the man's hand out from 
between her legs, and smirked. 

Jane turned to the man, understanding that Mary was a tease and 
had changed her mood, "will it rise on the third day or what. 
Didn't Mary brag that you could jump off the hotel roof and not 
die."

"I can," he said. "I have. I did it last year."

"Mary was in Paris last year and I was teaching in New York last 
year, finishing my doctorate.

Oh, you mean that fraudulent anti-gravity wind that keeps you 
safe or dazzles us while you are helped by the hotel staff off 
the lower ledge to prove your bravery, Jane mocked hoping the man 
was not a fraud. 

Do you work for the hotel, Mary asked.

No, I am a freelancer, He said

Is the Priest present, Jane asked?

No, I have done it. I can. I use another way.

Hasn't that been proven to be so rare it happened only once in a 
thousand years," Jane added.

You know why we come here, don't you? Twenty-four people jumped 
from the roof of this building last year. Eighteen died. That is 
the locals call it "Matadores de Sue¤os Perdidos."

Mary jumped in. No, Mary, it was more than that. Remember that TV 
show that said another ten also took their lives in other ways 
showing their devotion to the jumpers.

I want this man, Jane thought, but why.

He very quickly had assumed a protected and special status with 
Jane If not Mary. Staring back a them more assured, able to 
focus, and biting his lips, he put his hand on Jane's hand, and 
was so carefully tender, she instinctively moved closer to him, 
but when he moved closer, Jane alarmed that she might offend 
Mary, pulled back.

Jane surprised by his gentleness, said. "Get the fuck out of here 
you fucken bullshit artist."  She said it gently as an obvious 
tease. I said what I thought I should say, Jane told Mary later.

Challenged, pulling out news clippings, the man showed them the 
story of how he had survived suicide when he had jumped last 
year. No, I am, he said, superman.

Looking at the article, actually reading it, Jane said. "It says 
here you survived suicide because you bounced off two canopies 
and onto the roof of a convertible. It also says you almost died 
from your fall.

Not exactly expecting anyone to actually read the article, the 
man said, "let me see you jump off the roof, and then turning to 
Mary putting his arm around her, he said, speaking directly to 
Mary. "We can go hand in hand. You know your breast will flatten 
out from the pressure of the air when you fall. He really looks 
weird, but so wonderful to jump without thought of consequences. 
"That's the secret," he said. "If you fear death, you will die. 
If you take it on, you can live."

Jane startled by the man claim to be the mythical superman said, 
"You don't expect someone, nor do I want you to say that you can 
like some ancient "superman" 'leap tall buildings in a single 
bound. 

"You're not serious, are you, you fucker," Mary added her retort, 
as she felt the man's cock thicken again having put her hands on 
him again as she thought, he was so warm. "That he is," Mary 
seemed obsessed. "No Jane," Mary squealed and then sighed, "I 
said he came at the most inopportune time, if you know what I 
mean. I never did let him come where he wanted. Why do you guys 
insist on messing up the bed?"

"I really can jump and live," the man said.

"You're full of shit," Mary got back in his face.

"Do not cut his balls off too far down," Jane cautioned. "We may 
need him. Sir, Jane taking an officious tone, said "wouldn't you 
rather have us than jump tonight?"

"Fuck no, Jane," Mary stood up. "No fucken way. I want to see him 
jump first. Fuck later," Mary said, pretending to be more hard 
ass than the tone she used.

"I must have some proof first before I fuck superman with or 
without you Jane." Jane had started to walk to the railing. Well, 
you coming. Jump. Do it. Or you can fuck our minds and bodies if 
you have enough left, and saying that, Jane reached up and kissed 
the man biting his cheek when she pulled away."

"No way, not yet. Too much confusion jumping during dinner, the 
man seemed to be trying to get out of Jane's trap. "Can't. I need 
the money. My sponsor insists on jumps twice a year. No one 
really dies you see. Except for me, it is all completely a fake."

"You're bullshit," Jane said, feeling very sad, looking away when 
she caught Mary's eye who seemed to be saying let's get out of 
here.

Without any preamble, "here, I'll show you," he said and with 
that last phrase, the tall, thin man carefully moved his chair, 
shuffling it, so he could look into Jane's eyes and then 
realizing he was talking to the wrong woman, he turned back to 
Mary, and then back to Jane. 

"What are you doing," Mary laughed at the man.

"I gain my strength from both of you," he said, stuffing his cock 
back in his pants and zipping up.

"Fuck him," Jane pretended disdain. "Talk to me, Mary. Look here 
at my eyes. He's full of shit"

Here he comes, finally Jane thought. What bullshit, but he is so 
fucken real, what the fuck's wrong with Mary? Why is she looking 
at the shit? I am here. I am real. He is a sad shit with a nice 
ass.

Gently, taking Jane's faces hand, looking into her eyes (the 
woman almost broke out in laughter), the dark man rushing forward 
told both women now one at a time that they were the most 
beautiful, stunning creatures he had ever seen. It was a stereo 
production. He even said he might love them all forever. 

"Every fuck two women, Jane turned to the man, can you come at 
least twice?" Can your tongue handle it; Jane mocked the man and 
then Mary for fucking his bullshit dick. "I think you are both 
frauds," Jane said, but what the hell, and she pulled the man 
into her lap taking him away from Mary. 

"The man answered not quite sure who was speaking to who, said, 
did it with my girl friend and her cousin once," he confessed. 
Jane could not believe how she shook this guy up. Mary was 
surprised too. She thought the guy in love with himself, not that 
Mary liked this quality.

"Shut up, Jane half kissed him. Starting to take his face in her 
hands, squeezing his cheeks, amazed he let her. "Not you ass 
hole, she whispered to the man. Girl friend here first. Do not 
get it up too much, fucker, Jane said to the man. "She has never 
fucked in a threesome. I would have heard first."

"Yes, I did, Jane. No lie. With Paul and his brother. I was 
seventeen. Remember how we used to hang out with Paul's crowd.

"You fucker," Jane said, ignoring the man again who stood there 
gathering his will to jump. "I did not know you then and you know 
it. I just thought you were an ordinary slut not a ho, laughing. 
"Why didn't you tell me that night when we wrote down the list of 
all the guys we had fucked? I know we were drunk. I even told you 
how I fucked Paul while you were dating him. You forgave me and 
told me how you had fucked my older brother at that pool the 
summer before we became friends. I loved it and told you how my 
brother and I had fooled around. You told me about how you and 
your sister had played with your mother's toys." 

As Jane spoke, she kept hitting Mary on the shoulder, looking 
easily at Mary's nipples, and Mary shifted, opening her legs, so 
Jane could see more and more of her excitement.

"No fucken way," Mary finally answered Jane. You could not get it 
up twice for me; she grabbed the man's zipper trying to open it 
again. "One of us would get the too soft fuck that was like 
slightly warm coffee." 

Disgusted, Mary and Jane turned their back on the man, when he 
moved towards them one at a time, they each pushed him away, and 
when Jane refused, he almost fell backward off his chair.

Not used to being rejected the man was disgusted too, and he 
started to walk away but not towards the railing where he could 
have stopped the conversation by jumping.

Jane and Mary laughed and their bodies shimmered. A slight sheen 
appeared on Mary's upper lips and her mouth parted in slow motion 
as she smoked a dark cigarette very slowly drawing in drag after 
drag.

While Mary smoked Jane kept hitting Mary on her shoulder, but 
with each blow landed softer until Jane stopped allowing her hand 
to knead the shoulder, moving to Mary's neck, making her wince, 
and finally pulling away, Mary said "stop," but not really 
meaning it, she moved closer to Jane.

"So you fucked them both at once," Jane repeated.

"I know," Mary commented to Jane, "just like some old fashioned 
porn flick. I hated it in my ass. He would not stop when I beat 
at him. Just kept doing it. I felt raped, but afterwards, I liked 
it. I ached."

"See," Jane leaned back to Mary. 

"See what"? 

Mary did not catch it, and she offered, "Yes, I know, I liked it 
more the second time when I did it with the three of them."

"Three, the story gets better, the man added, walking back to the 
women ready to give it one more try. He looked almost like a man 
who had found a secret reserve.

"Shut the fuck up," Jane said to the man. I saw three guys jerk 
off once. Wouldn't let them do it on me."

The Man watched the conversation. With each sharp exchange 
between the women he appeared more and more eager, and with his 
interest, Jane became the greater tease pulling from Mary more 
and more details of her sexual exploits until finally the man, so 
aroused, reached over and touched Jane's thigh putting his hand 
between her legs to cup her cunt.

Mary smacked the man. "Get the fuck away from her," she said.

Jane looked at the man, shrugged her shoulder and told Mary that 
she really liked his hands. "Not as good as yours, but great for 
a man," Jane said. "Sorry, she said to the man," moving away from 
him, getting up, pulling the other chair up to Mary on the other 
side of the table, and leaning down she put her mouth on Mary's 
exposed nipple, licking it and pulling a string of her spit from 
the stub of it making a string that glistened.

"You fucken cock teasers," the man said, speaking softly, getting 
up, pulling his shirt off to show his pecks. 

Mary thought, here we go. "He had to prove his point after all," 
Mary told Jane in their next day post event analysis. Did you see 
how he carefully threading himself through the crowd, standing 
for just a second at the railing. When he put one leg over the 
edge, the shine on his chest was magnificent, Jane added. I never 
thought he would actually do it, Mary said, and I thought what "a 
hot dog." When he casually leaped out over the patio edge -- just 
as he had promised Mary before she let him fuck her, I really did 
not believe he did it. I ran to the railing thinking there was 
some trick and he would be hanging by a piece of rope. 

When we got there, we actually saw nothing. How could you? I was 
almost afraid that the mob of folks who has also rushed to the 
railing would crowd us until we joined the man at the bottom of 
the pit.

At first, as we saw on the security cameras, he floated down 14 
flights, but then, at the end of his drop, he speeded up, his 
cape blowing dramatically until he hit the pavement without 
exception. No one saw the drama of the cape except the cameras. 
No one had the chance to hear the man expel death from his mouth 
as his skull melted into the ground hitting the pavement hard.

If the man could have looked back up at the woman on the moment 
he hit, he would not have seen Mary and Jane, somewhat serious, 
wonder at his feat and outcome. Like many of the others, Jane and 
Mary were too late to catch the show and the splatter of brains 
was inhuman waste after all.

To their credit, at least, Mary and Jane did leave their seats 
and push their way to railing to watch the stop action photo of 
the action below that would appear on XCAUSE news on the 
Internet.

Did I wish that Jane thought? "Yes, I almost did, but not really 
smiling," she said to herself.

"He really wanted me," Mary said softly aloud, but no one but 
Jane, heard her.

"No Mary, Jane said, he wanted to live."

Mary and Jane quietly walked away from the railing, shaking their 
heads, as if everything had happened. That euphoria did not last 
long. Again, they sat down in their same seats, the man's shirt 
on back of the chair. At first, Jane thought, but did not say, 
that the action of the man jumping was part of some bizarre movie 
sequence being filmed to demonstrate the new digital video powers 
of mental improvisation in "true life action dramas."

"See, what some guys will do to get laid," Mary lighting up 
another, shook her breasts and hair, finally draining her beer, 
she swallowed Ritalin to counter the reds she had taken earlier. 

Mary's silence in contrast to Jane's conversation seemed out of 
character. 

Jane noticed it. "What's the matter"?

"Nothing," Mary said. 

"I know your mind. What gives?"

"Nothing and I mean it. I never expected him to jump. I put it 
back."

"What did you put back"?

"Nothing. Leave me the fuck alone."

"Nothing, you said you put something back. What the fuck you 
talking about."

Get the fuck away from me, Mary said, and she started to walk 
away from Jane.

"Ok," Jane backed down. She knew Mary was stubborn. When she 
spoke that way, Jane knew Mary would not say another word. 

"Must be what I am drinking or not fucking, Jane said, but "this 
great guy" just jumped off the roof. We really do not care do we, 
and Jane faked a smile, and looking around the room slowly, she 
observed how the noise in the room had changed if they had not 
even if some canned music continue to play. 

Mary expected Jane to keep at her, and was surprised when Jane 
did not repeat her question. Mary heard Jane (but Jane was 
silent) "What did you put back"?

When Jane did not press her questions, Mary so out of balance, 
began to put her blouse back on and obviously shaken up, and a 
hard time getting it on. She couldn't. Stopped and looked at Jane 
for help. It was almost as if the disorder of Mary's body was 
greater than the confusion in the room. 

As a chain reaction, and wanting to be supportive, but never 
admitting to weakness, Jane also fussed with her own tits, 
wishing she had on some clothes. Amazing the gestures, we 
nervously conjure, Jane thought. Suddenly aware of her body and 
its warmth, Jane imagined the heat emptying from the body of the 
man dead at the bottom of the pit. "My breasts are alive," Jane 
said, softly, to Mary who watched Jane shake hers. Not to be 
outdone, Mary giggled mocking the schoolgirl she had remembered, 
and shook hers until they seemed as if they were riding the air 
in slow motion but descending into tears they just stopped 
reacting and looked at the crowd and its pretense of riot and 
collapsed inside until Jane would pull them back as she always 
did.  

After that symbolic orgasm, Mary and Jane helped the other get 
straight. If anyone had noticed, which was not likely considering 
the events, they might have thought both women took much too 
long. "You have great hands," Mary said to Jane who turned did 
not turn away from the obvious compliment.

"Have any more of those pills or that good weed left, I have this 
guy Paul coming over tonight, and I want to..." Mary spoke as if 
the guy she had fucked to death last night to pardon an 
expression had not jumped to his death nor that she and Mary had 
just accepted that they made love in an extraordinary way.

"Jane," Mary spoke again, louder, intentionally changing the 
subject again, "we couldn't see if he floated like he said he 
might."

"He didn't float in the marvelous manner of balloons," Jane 
smirked. "You know the movie. The one were Jeff Artis is born 
again in the body of the woman who he fucked just before he was 
murdered. Wasn't it called, "Reincarnated?" You know where she 
fights the fear of the infant sucking or how she wanted to kill 
the infant in her womb suspecting that it was her lover him 
coming to her in a dream."

Ignoring Jane, "Yes, but Mike (the first time we heard the man's 
name) must have gone in head first. It happened all too fast. 
What the fuck did he say, I can't remember all of it, but . . . 
he did say he had done it before" and with that Mary lit up 
another, and suddenly asked the guy sitting at the next table, if 
he knew the name of the band that had just played.

When he asked her to dance, she wasn't surprised, but he was, 
when she said no, " I am not really interested in dancing now, 
but maybe later," smiling in just the right way, letting the guy 
know well maybe but maybe not. It depends, Mary thought, on what 
happens later if she invites Mary up to sleep over.

Laughing to herself at the thought of a teenage slumber party, 
Mary smiled and Jane smiling back changed the subject again.

Jane stopped talking realizing as she blinked off the booze and 
still giggling as she realized several of the guys around her 
table had heard what she had said. 

The four men watched Jane and Mary talk as if they had slipped 
into a forbidden phone conversation. The kind that never 
happened. Jane thought. You call a friend and suddenly you are 
listening to the friend talk to another friend, and you realize 
somehow that you had jumped into their conversation. You put the 
phone on mute and listen. When they talk about you, and it so 
true what they say, you almost imagine you are talking about 
yourself. No way, you think to yourself, can you ever tell them 
you what you heard, and when you realize that you are angry. 
Nothing is real, anymore, you think pulled back to Mary and the 
sudden impossible connection you have made with her. Death did it 
you think. Sex did it you amend that first thought and back with 
Mary you wonder again what she gave back, knowing that somehow 
you would have to ask the question again, but suddenly none of 
that mattered because Mary gave it up almost like the accident of 
the three way phone conversation. 

Something that happens only once in a lifetime. Why should that 
one time, that one accident, you think happen now at such an 
insignificant moment? 

You did not want the man to jump to his death. You never imagined 
it happening. It just did like Mary showing she wanted you, and 
you wanting her, but not wanting to let her lead.

"I know," Mary said, watching one of the guys watch Jane smoke, 
Mary imagined that Jane's had first caressed her face, neck and 
was now rubbing her breasts from behind, taking both of them in 
her hands allowing her thumbs to rub against the nipples. I felt 
my mind being stroked, Mary thought as Jane sat back, relaxed 
without any tension or requests.

On the phrase, "I know," Jane listened to her heart and suddenly 
heard Mary speaking in mid conversation "just before Mike jumped 
I put the shit he gave me back in his pocket. He called it 
'kryptonite.' That is what I almost told you. I wanted to, but I 
just did not know how. Suddenly now, it seemed important to tell 
you. In my mind, I felt you asking me, Jane. Were you? Can you?"

Brought back suddenly, Jane laughed at Mary's obvious story. 

"No, I did do it, Mary insisted. I brought it with me just in 
case. I thought you would get a kick out of it or not believe it 
was real. Besides, when I am drunk like this, it all seemed quite 
serious."

It was not really, a question said, feeling another dark man at 
the back bar smirking, watching her. Jane pulled her shoulders 
back so her tits would not show but in pulling back, she pushed 
them out making them stand out more. Turning away from him so he 
could not see her face or her breasts, and Jane tired of the game 
and just looked away. When she turned back moments later and he 
was still starting, she mouthed "fuck you at him," but did it in 
a way that was an ironic welcome that didn't show her confusion.

"But he was so nice, wasn't he," Jane mocked. " Your mystery man 
jumped to prove what. How silly," Jane said. "I know it is mad to 
think it, but you said you had a good time last week."

"You mean the porno star or the man who just jumped. His name was 
Mike by the way." Mary answered.

"Mike or Clark Kent," Jane offered. "No, superman, the real one," 
Jane chortled. Maybe, next week you will tell me you fucked God 
and then I really will believe you, Jane thought. 

"None of this is real Mary," Jane said. " We are stuck inside a 
computer icon and we are being flipped and fucked in some virtual 
cocoon with ten thousand men rubbing their dicks like that 
ancient horse gag Avi from twenty-five years ago that I found in 
a backup drive of my grand father. The woman really chokes in the 
Avi. Just as we are now," Jane said that last phrase to herself 
and remembering how she showed the film clip to her Mom and how 
he Mom had told her that her Papa was a fucked up dirty old man 
who should learn to grow old gracefully." 

Amazing, Jane thought, watching Mary preen and fuss putting on 
fresh lipstick. 

"Don't you have anything to say, Mary," Jane asked as she watched 
Jane finally put her top back on. Jane in helping her adjust the 
back and straps stroked Mary's nipples wondering what it would 
feel like in a few months when she nursed when she is suckled by 
someone.

"Who gives a fuck about Mike? You? Me? We came here hoping he or 
someone would jump. Why do you think we pay so much to come here? 
The music sucks. Men are stupid. We have to dress up too much, 
and we can't really relax."

Jane was not laughing when Mary stopped. While she spoke, Mary 
had taken Jane's hands and playing with each finger brushed them 
against her face and neck. "See, I am alive," she said, feeling 
Jane's eyes inside her own.

Mary, suddenly, not caring where they were, to Jane to keep the 
rise and fall of their embrace as private as possible in a public 
room filled with cops trying to figure out if the jumper had been 
pushed.

"Maybe we expect too much of ourselves," Jane said, relaxing, but 
then suddenly faking a more serious tone watching Mary hands on 
her own nipples, having pushed the edges of the blouse back 
again, making a beautifully obscene picture, Jane thought. 

"That is why I like women, Jane offered. They bullshit better. 

"Fuck yes," Mary said. "There is no such thing as a superman, 
really, do you really believe me Jane, Mary laughed, and fondling 
another bag of kryptonite in the bottom of her tiny hand purse, 
she waited for Jane's hands to touch her mind like she has 
superman last night. 

"So, you want me," Mary asked, repeating the question four times. 
Every time she asked, her voice was softer. By the last time, 
when Jane responded, yes, Mary asked the question silently just 
by moving her lips.

When Jane spoke "yes," she began to lift her transparent top, not 
caring who watched, pulling it off quickly. When Jane dropped the 
almost weightless top on the floor, their bodies glowed as they 
watched the movie of themselves dancing in ovals in the shadows 
of the black blinking lights pulsing above the bar. 

Stopping the movie, Jane said, "what you did Mary was neither 
right nor wrong; it does not matter. "It could not have been 
kryptonite. There is no such thing. It is an old TV movie, not 
real. Clark Kent and all Supermen are actors we pretend to fuck. 
You cannot know when anyone bullshits. How can you? 

He gave me two bags last night, Mary blurted out, "He told me I 
needed to keep it with me so he wouldn't kill me with his 
strength when he got on top and fucked me. If I had not been 
drunk, I would have laughed in his face, but I almost believed 
him. I knew when I put the bag back in his pocket that I was 
making him weak when he wanted to be strong. I felt strange doing 
it. It was almost as if I had been set up to do it. The club 
likes it when men jump to their death. No one cares when he or 
she survives.  
Bottom line, Mary thought. "I had no idea he would actually jump 
from the balcony. Did I? I actually liked him."

"I did too. He wasn't really a jerk," Jane listened for Mary to 
reply. 

"He had nice hands," Mary said, kissing Jane's neck sucking on 
the vein, visibly biting it.

Yes, life is crazy," Jane added, half out of it, thinking now 
about kissing Mary and holding the baby she almost felt move. 
Impossible I know, she thought. What is the greater fantasy, Jane 
laughed to herself. "I don't give a fuck about him," Jane said, 
measuring Mary's throat for the first caress. "I can't make him 
live again." 

Kissing Mary gently like opening a flower, lip by lip, not caring 
who watched, Jane said almost with finality, "when you are alone 
with a lover, nothing else can matter but being there with that 
person, and when you are not alone, you wish you were." 

Guess Mike could have been really superman, Jane thought as she 
kissed Mary gently taking Mary's tongue under hers. 



NARRATOR: 

The next time you have a drink at a bar, and a man or woman comes 
up to you and brags that he loves you, or wants you for the 
night, or is even the real fucking Superman, tell him or her, you 
have a bag of kryptonite in your pocket. Really, listen to how 
she or he responds. Think about how none of us has anything to 
really hold when we take that huge leap into the unknown. There 
is only the bottom of the universe. Nothing else. Coming up is as 
good as going down.

Mary looked at Jane quite startled but pleased by what they seem 
to hear in the voice over. In many ways, Mary thought that the 
scene here seemed more like a movie set than any real bar she had 
known.

Just as Mary started to respond to the voice over, Mary and Jane 
were caught on the edge of the virtual and the real, almost like 
a three dimensional hologram of a chat room where you actually 
feel and can enjoy touching your partner. Not that Mary or Jane 
really wanted to speak, especially when the voice over the loud 
speaker continued, "And when you have your third or fourth drink, 
"Don't be surprised when you think of superdick fucking some 
valley girl at the mall? Imagine that you are looking inward or 
outward at any man or better yet woman floating in some high-
headed space between Nirvana and Hades. Finally, when you look up 
at the clock and you have fifteen minutes before "last call," you 
will smile at the wrong time, and you will have to make polite 
conversation with a spirit, a man, or another face in the crowd. 

After a pause, a page or a chapter, you hear another voice, the 
bartender perhaps say, "Drink it all up, it's closing time," he 
continues the voice over. "Never know when the chance will come 
back. Never know whom you will meet or have met in that instant 
when a dream and nightmare dance perilously close to jumping 
yourself like that fool did from the roof of this fucken bar 
famous for suicide which is why we hang out there if we are 
honest."

"Remember," Jane continued for the man in the voice over, putting 
her fingers on Mary's mouth to silence her, "when he hit the 
bottom of the farce, in that last instant, life pulled and 
twisted into an ironic puzzle that only dying could disprove. 
Death is a hell of a way of showing you might indeed be superman. 
No logic there, really, but then who gives a shit. You and I are 
not the ones who died, sweet Mary.

Feeling the edge of Mary's breast that was warm soft and cupped 
easily in the hand made for a gentle blessing, Jane finished. 
"Bottom line, if you don't do it, take that chance, you may live 
longer, but at what cost." 

Finding Mary's fingers, she sucked them before and after she 
brushed her tongue against Mary's neck and ears. Touching the 
circle of her own nipple to Mary's, carefully creating the ovals 
of their tits, hearing the rush of Mary's rough breathing mixed 
with her own, knowing that if they continued, one or could almost 
come just from the foreplay of kiss, Jane whispered one last line 
in Mary's ear biting the lobe hard making Mary jump. 

"What if she had stopped, another voice over, a woman said. "What 
if any one of us had accepted the bullshit, and paused at the 
wrong time? What happens to lost pleasure if you stop before 
success or failure"? 

With the word, "pleasure," Mary kissed Jane back and Jane felt 
Mary's hand reach into her skirt, pushing into her, tickling the 
lips of Jane's vulva, expertly and gently pushing the hood back. 

Mary quickly found the tip of the clit, tweaking it, teasing it 
and opening the inside of it as one opens the mind anticipating a 
caress, Mary rubbed back at the root of the clitoris, finding the 
origin of pleasure in that organ that dropped below the pubis 
bone disappearing into the well of the body. 

What had surprised Jane more than Mary's gentleness? It felt as 
if Mary's fingers were her own. 

Instinctively, Jane opened her legs, leaning back, allowing 
Mary's fingers to rip into the cloth and leaf of the ancient silk 
underpants, Jane felt Mary slip them down from her ass. At that 
moment, Jane imagined Mary with a cock, knowing how wonderful a 
woman could ravish her, taking her apart collapsing into her when 
she came.

Well, love, Jane thought, we would have to see how far we could 
reach into the other. 

Taking Mary in her arms for a dramatic kiss, Jane aroused by the 
oval of Mary's mouth bit her own tongue just before the kiss. 
Jane loved the bitter taste of her own blood. She savored the 
kiss. It was just like the ones Jane had remembered at her sweet 
16 party how she and her cousin, Louise, their thighs entwined, 
made the come swallow the waves.

Kissing each delicate line softer and then harder, marking Mary's 
face with the wet of her tongue leaving a map of her pleasure on 
the surface for the return, Jane swallowed thinking of how she 
would open Mary's vulva later when they were alone on Mary's King 
size bed. Jane felt her tongue curl as it would when she let it 
follow the contours of Mary's sex. Wonderful, Jane thought how 
the tongue and mouth round to pulp of the sweet fruit, squeezing 
the source, teasing it slurping away at madness, and finally in 
the end at orgasm, sometimes drinking the fluids shot clear from 
the utter of the mouth no matter what their origin.

Intent, pausing to breathe then stop, Jane's intensity caught 
Mary and moving her arms under Mary, Jane lifted her pulling her 
to that collapse that comes just at the moment when seduction is 
fully realized by some collapse.

Stopping, wondering how she would survive the next moment, Mary 
pulled back, just for a moment, "Jane," another female voiceover 
said, just at the moment when the image on the movie screen would 
fade to a larger than life END, "Do you mind, Jane, that Mary is 
holding the other bag of kryptonite when she kisses you?"











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