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Subject: {ASSM} The Mystery of Flight 1070 (Ch 6) (By Katzmarek) (No-sex)
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Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2006 09:10:03 -0400
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 CH 6

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<1st attachment, "The Mystery of Flight 1070 6.txt" begin>

THE MYSTERY OF FLIGHT TEN-SEVENTY (Chapter 6)

   By KATZMAREK

   ---------------------------------------------------

   AUTHOR'S NOTE

   This is a work of fiction.  It remains my property and must not be used
for gain without my permission in writing.

   ---------------------------------------------------

   Raul Hernandez was worried.  Reiner Kurzbach was supposed to call him
once his visa was granted to enter Poland.  He'd only made the one call,
telling him he was required for a second interview at the consulate.

   When Raul called the hotel, he was told the German gentleman had
abruptly checked out.  A foreign woman had settled the bill.  The LAPD were
no help at all and the Airport refused to release passenger lists without
authority.

   Raul then called Representative Hartman and told him no-one had seen
Kurzbach after he'd gone back to the Polish Consulate.  He told him he felt
something was wrong as he'd promised to call.  It wasn't like Kurzbach to
neglect such a promise.

   Hartman had been upset after hearing Kurzbach's request to immigrate to
Poland.  It seemed to him that the German had spurned US hospitality.  It
was the sort of thing the left-wing press would love and they'd savage the
congressman with it.

   On the other hand, if he'd been snatched by the KGB and taken back
behind the iron curtain, this was the sort of thing the Administration was
looking for.  Clearly this was another example of the brutality and
untrustworthiness of the Soviet Union and her reluctant allies.  Hartman
immediately called the FBI and demanded they investigate.

   -----------------------------------------------

   The security check by the FBI had been Arnim and Fuller's biggest hurdle
to overcome before being granted permanent residency in the United States.
Kurzbach's change of mind had placed them in an awkward position and they
faced some hard questioning.

   But Representative Hartman had placed his marker in their square and he
was very close to senior members of the Administration in Washington.  The
FBI privately believed the pair were weaving a tissue of lies but saw no
apparent security risk.  They concluded their motive for coming to the US
was probably economic, but that was hardly an exceptional case for a
refugee.

   For their own safety, however, an FBI detail was placed to keep them
under surveilance.

   ----------------------------------------------

   The search for 'JF' had drawn a blank, much to Ben Shepherd's
frustration.  The Website had closed down and the Webmaster promptly
decamped.  Dr Jordan Freeman had been an independent consultant working out
of a small office in downtown Seattle, Washington.  The FBI reported he was
used by several companies in the aviation field, including Boeing.  Ben had
no doubt he was Jurgen Fuller.

   Meanwhile, he continued the search of the sea floor using Ferruno
Salvage.  He concentrated on the area of the volcano crater and hired a
Geologist to examine some core samples they'd taken.  But he was having to
go carefully, NTSB Adminstrators in Washington would need him to account
for every dollar spent.

   Ben worked on the theory that the crater was some kind of 'Temporal
Flare Emitter,' a TFE, as 'JF' had described to him in one of his Emails.
'JF' couldn't say, though, whether the thing was man-made or a natural
phenomenon.  A TFE required immense amounts of stored energy to build up a
sufficient charge.  'JF' believed the energy source would have to be an
anti-matter reactor, as nothing else could supply that kind of power. 
However, what an 'AMR' looked like, he, again, couldn't tell him.  Could an
AMR occur naturally was a question for Astro-Physicists, but he couldn't
find any with the time or inclination to risk their reputation on his
bizarre exploration.

   Flight 1070 had been caught in a temporal rift caused by the TFE
releasing a burst of energy.  The rift resulted in anomalies caused by a
strange displacement of time and space.  1070 had dropped from the sky, but
it's temporal echo had continued while receding backwards in time.  By
falling the way it did, both within range of the rift and without, 1070 was
held for a period within two times.  The 2006 wreckage had then been pulled
clear of the link causing the contradiction to destabilise.  The result was
that the wreckage in 1986 couldn't be sustained and resolved back into
time.

   As for the cockpit, 'JF,' had explained, the likely reason that the
cockpit section remained receded in time was also the same that marooned
Kurzbach, Strauss and Fuller.  The cockpit had crashed in such a way that
it was completely absorbed into the rift.  The reverse had occurred to the
rest of the aircraft.  The cockpit had remained locked in 1986 while the
2006 aspect had resolved back.

   Ben Shepherd now supposed that theory was at least as likely as any
other.  There was no way, however, he was going to destroy his career by
inserting that into the official report.

   The Geologist's report and been completed for the area of sea floor
where most of the plane wreck had been located.  Ben was interested in what
seemed to be an old volcano crater or perhaps a meteor.

   The Geologist determined that it was neither, but he couldn't give any
further clue.  Something had left an imprint of heat and magnetic energy
and he decided it had to be external.  Considering the rate of decay, he
thought it had been a long time ago when this event occurred.

   It looked to Ben like the temporal flare was caused by a man-made
machine.  Somehow it had then been removed, but how?

   Meanwhile, Washington were starting to call in their chips, and Ben
couldn't justify continuing with this part of the crash investigation. 
Insurers needed answers so they could find someone to sue.  He was told the
families of the crew needed closure, although Ben doubted that three
families would have much to grieve over.

   In fact, Kurzbach, Krauss and Fuller's families had been remarkably
silent.  They elected not to travel to the States, even though ACIS was
quite willing to pick up their costs.  Fuller's wife Anna, however,
appeared on German TV, curiously composed, considering she'd just been told
her husband was dead.  She'd thanked everyone for their thoughts and asked
the media to leave the families alone.  When asked what she intended to do,
she replied she was going off the have their baby.  The German media
described her performance as 'courageous.'

   ---------------------------------------------

   On Sundays the Hernandez family traditionally came together for a family
meal and get together.  These occasions were a time to talk family business
and offer help and support.  Today, the extended family had much to
discuss.

   Present was, not only all four of the sisters, but Suella's husband and
the two time-stranded Germans.  Ariana sat draped over Arnim while Rica
looked on sniggering.  Ella sat next to Fuller, smiling at him frequently.
Suella's husband, a junior lawyer, shifted uncomfortably while Raul and
Connie presided with serious expressions.

   "Kurzbach's gone!" Raul announced, "according to the FBI he caught a
flight to Moscow, they believe unwillingly."

   "Moscow?  Are you sure?" Arnim exclaimed.

   "Yes, Arnim.  He wanted to go to Poland...  I...  lent him the fare.  I
should've stopped him."

   "How?  Tie him up?  He's a grown man.  Kurzbach's always been a bit of a
dark horse," explained Fuller, "he does what he does.  He's...  stubborn.
Would you agree, Arnim?" He nodded.

   "What would the Russians want with him?" Raul asked, "that's what I like
to know.  Do you two have any clue?"

   "No," Arnim replied, "and I have less clue why he wanted to go to
Poland."

   "He told me he wanted to go home," explained Raul, "He said that he now
had the chance to change his life.  I kind of understood what he meant,
so..."

   "Well, who know's what the Russians want?  I could never understand
them. Even after the break up of the Soviet Union, I always found them a
strange people."

   Suella and her husband stared at each other in confusion.

   "Fuller and Arnie's from the future," Rica proudly announced.  "In their
time the Russians are friendly."

   "I think that's an exaggerration," smiled Arnim.

   "What are you saying?" Suella asked, dismayed.  "Rica, are you trying to
be funny?"

   "It's true!" Rica insisted, "my future brother in law is younger than
me. Isn't that cool?"

   "What?"

   "Family business!" Raul solemnly announced.  In the Hernandez household
that traditional call swore the family to secrecy.

   "Brother in Law?" Suella looked at the pair.  "Dad, what's going on?"

   -----------------------------------------------------

   Ongarchug, or Ongarchuk, didn't exist 40 years ago.  Then, there was
absolutely nothing except a forest of stunted Siberian pine.  Foxes, sable
and bears once roamed through the trees unmolested, too remote for even
human hunters.

   Ongarchuk was planned back in the thirties as an artificial town; a
science community dedicated to pure and unfettered research.  There,
anything could be possible for a scientist with any weird idea.

   For this was supposed to be a showcase that would put the Soviet Union
at the forefront of scientific research and cast a single digit gesture at
her detractors in the West.  Unfortunately, the Soviet Institute of
Sciences ran up against huge problems and it took many years to come to
fruition.

   First came the Great Patriotic War and the USSR's energies were devoted
to Nazism's destruction.  Then came the post-war building program, changes
of leadership and bureaucratic squabbling.  Lastly, few scientists were
found willing to leave their comfortable facilities in large Soviet cities
for a wilderness, 800 kilometres from anywhere.  Huge incentives needed to
be found to persuade Russia's brightest to apply, and not just a little
arm-twisting.

   Throughout the fifties, Ongarchuk slowly developed.  By all accounts it
was a miserable place to work.  Scientists and their support staff were
paid up to four times what they were earning in Leningrad, Kharkov or
Moscow.  They were given generous amounts of leave and many maintained two
homes, one in the city, and one in Ongarchuk.  Families often remained
behind in the city, there being little to appeal to them in Ongarchuk.

   A veil of secrecy descended on the town.  Much highly controversial
research took place there and it's not certain whether Western Intelligence
had any clue of its existence.  Certainly, few in Russia had any idea.

   It was in the fifties, too, that work began on Russia's time travel
project.  The theory was well known and waited to be tested.  Like their
Western counterparts, they found the problem was the huge amount of energy
needed for a field generator to produce a sufficiently intense time/space
effect.

   The KGB had dosed Reiner Kurzbach a little too heavily and, after
touching down at Moscow, he had to be stretchered off the plane and taken
to hospital.  There, under guard, he was brought back to health after 24
hours.  When he was fit enough to travel once more, he was escorted to a
military plane and flown out to Ongarchuk.

   The KGB had been unfriendly, uncommunicative and bullying.  Kurzbach was
cuffed, pushed and shoved, and it was never explained where he was and what
was going to happen to him.  He demanded to be allowed to contact the
German or American Embassy, however, his only reply was a thin smile.

   At Ongarchuk, he was turned over to the Soviet Institute of Sciences. 
Like emerging from some dark prison, Kurzbach was surprised by the sudden
change of environment.

   Firstly, he was shown comfortable quarters that weren't locked.  He had
the dubious honour of being allowed to go anywhere in Ongarchuk that he
wished.  Unfortunately, there were few places anyone could go and, because
of the climate and isolation, nowhere to travel to.  A personal
assistant/translator was assigned to him and she was friendly and
talkative. She wouldn't answer any questions about why he'd been brought
there, however, suggesting he ask a Professor Sumilov.  Sumilov, though,
was always busy or otherwise unable to see him.

   On the third day, his 'assistant,' Marina, woke him up early.  She told
him hastily that, 'he must come.  They wanted to see him.'

   Kurzbach hadn't been feeling that well since being taken from the plane
in Moscow.  He'd supposed it was the after effects of the drugs.  He needed
food, he told her, and Marina stood nervously by while he fixed some
breakfast.  As he took his time, Marina grew more agitated.  Kurzbach
smiled inwardly, 'two can play mind games,' he thought.

   Eventually, he followed Marina outside, all the while complaining he had
difficulty walking.  The woman clicked and sighed with impatience as he
dragged himself after her.  Apparently, 'they' were very important people
who expected their requests to be performed at once.

   Marina took him to a brown stone building, double storied, with a high
pitched roof.  Another aide, a man, waited for him at the top of the steps
and ran down to take his arm.  He babbled rapidly in Russian to Marina who
seemed to be apologising profusely.  Kurzbach almost felt sorry for her;
almost, but not quite.

   He was led into a room with black curtains over the windows and
artificial lighting.  A man of about 60, wearing shirtsleeves and a long
white beard, extended his hand in greeting.  Another man sat at a desk in
the corner dressed in military uniform.  He tipped his head towards
Kurzbach and appeared to be scrutinising him.

   "My name is Professor Sumilov," the white beard said in English, "this
is Colonel Polkryshkin...  he wants to meet you."

   Kurzbach stared straight at the Colonel.  His eyes were cold and
calculating.  Reiner knew enough about Soviet military uniforms to
recognise the badge of the Strategic Forces.  He was curious as to what a
missile Colonel wanted with him.

   "Tell me," began Sumilov, "why did you want to go to Poland?" He'd been
asked that question by a succession of people already.  He presumed this
was an opener, but he was determined not to be co-operative.

   "For the beaches," he replied, "and the warm summer nights!"

   "Then you are travelling at the wrong time of the year!" Sumilov
chuckled.  He spoke to the Colonel in Russian who smiled briefly. 
'Clearly,' Reiner thought, 'the Colonel doesn't speak English.' He filed
that fact away for future reference.

   The Professor spoke to the back of the room and the lights dimmed.  A
slide projector stabbed the darkness and flashed a picture onto a screen
high up in the corner.  It was himself, twenty years younger, preparing to
board a Transall.  He didn't recognise the airport.  It could've been
anywhere in the, then, West Germany.

   "This is you," Sumilov accused, "and here!" another picture flashed on,
"is a picture of your Identity Card.  As you can see, it appears they're
old photos, but...  you and I know they're not, don't we?" Kurzbach felt a
twinge of uncertainty as the man continued.  "We don't expect you to answer
nor is it useless to lie.  We've had our experts compare photos and they're
certain it's one and the same person.  How did you age so much in such a
short time?"

   "Is this why you wanted me here?" Reiner asked, sighing, "I have a rare
disease.  I age prematurely."

   "A quick answer, but our medical people detected no apparent illnesses.
Oh yes, we had considered that, because we couldn't work out how this could
be.  But, our scientists concluded there must be only one explanation; that
you have come from the future.  Who made it work, the Americans?"

   "Is that why the Colonel is here?" Kurzbach asked, "because you people
think the Americans are going to send back armies of time travellers to
sabotage the Soviet Union?  Listen, your silly, paranoid empire has only a
few years to run.  Why would anyone waste their time?"

   The professor recoiled in shock.  The Colonel demanded to know what had
been said and Sumilov translated, slowly, glancing at Reiner.  Polkryshkin
stood, shouted in Russian and stormed out of the room.

   "You tell me please?" Sumilov asked Reiner, visibly shaken, "you tell me
how you travelled back from the future?  You can have anything you want,
but I must know!"

   "Anything?" Reiner smiled.  It dawned on him what a huge card he now
held, providing the Russians thought he had the secret of time travel.  But
did he know how to play it?

   ----------------------------------------------

   Arnim Krauss was a worried man.  Kurzbach's capture by the Russians, the
Press conference and Hartman's political string-pulling was focussing
unwanted attention on them.  He was certain the FBI were now carefully
unravelling their story.  The CIA would probably have little trouble
finding out they were not East Germans and stumble upon their younger
selves.  Then what?  They'd become lab rats for the rest of their lives. 
He couldn't remember whether DNA testing was a reality back in 1986.  If
so, they were in big trouble.

   Ariana had only a partial understanding of their plight.  Lots of people
had arrived and been accepted into the United States with no documents and
false indentities.  Providing they didn't make too much fuss, they should
be left alone to get on with their lives.  No-one would believe they came
from the future.

   "You do?" he told her.

   "Your computer!" she replied, "perhaps you can tell people you invented
it?  You could make lots of money?"

   "You're not serious?" he laughed, "I couldn't tell anyone how to make
the chips in that thing.  It's going to take years of development to get to
that level."

   "A pity," she smiled, "perhaps there's something else you could tell
them how to make?"

   "I'm a pilot, not an engineer.  Maybe I should tell your Government
about Afghanistan?"

   "What about it?"

   "A couple of groups, there, they ought to reconsider sending weapons to.
One's called the Taliban, the other a group of militants called Al Qaeda."

   "Why?"

   "Bad things are going to happen that are going to change the World for
the worst...  and President Hussein of Iraq, we ought to tell Rumsfeld
about who he's shaking hands with."

   "Who's Rumsfeld?"

   "Some guy," he shrugged.

   "No, what, Arnie, who are these guys and why are they bad for America?"

   "It's going to be a long twenty years!" he sighed.

   Meanwhile, Fuller decided to head to bed, too.  Raul and Connie had
gone, Rica, also, and Arnim and Ariana were upstairs talking and, no doubt,
shortly going to be making love.  The door to the downstairs bathroom was
ajar, the light was on, so he called softly to see if it was occupied.

   "Come in?" Ella said, "nearly finished.  I'm just going to brush my
teeth?"

   Fuller entered to find the girl stooped over the basin.  She was wearing
a man's T-shirt that came down to just below her bottom.  Her long slim
legs were slightly apart and her loose young breasts jiggled free under her
shirt as she used the tooth brush.

   "I need to pee," he told her.

   "Go ahead," she replied, spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her
mouth.  "I won't look." Fuller shrugged, went to the toilet and unzipped
himself.  "Hey, Fuller, shaking hands with the unemployed?" she giggled.

   He turned and saw her watching.  "I thought you weren't going to peek?"
he laughed.

   "Couldn't help it.  Haven't seen one for a while."

   "Well?"

   "It's all right," she told him, "they don't usually look like that when
I get to see them."

   "That right?" he said, "what do they look like?" Fuller enjoyed the
teasing.  He and Ella had teased each other a lot.  It was a game they
often played, but it didn't usually lead to anything.

   "What do you think?" she said, raising her forearm, fist clenched, in a
suggestive manner.

   "Shit!  Were you born horny?"

   "Sure!" she laughed, "they used to call me scissor legs.  What's wrong
with sex, anyhow?  It's how we all came to be here."

   "Nothing," he replied, "but society has restraints.  We aren't like
animals that can rut who they like."

   "Screw society, and who says we're not animals?"

   "We have feelings, emotions.  For us, for me, it's not about the act but
what comes after?"

   "And what does come after?" she licked her lips, "besides come?" She
stood in the doorway, blocking his exit.

   "Love, of course!"

   "Always?  You telling me you've fallen in love with every girl you've
ever screwed?"

   "Not exactly!" he grinned sheepishly, "my judgement hasn't always
been... ah...  impeccable."

   "Aha!" she laughed in triumph, "so you've done it on impulse, then. 
Picked up some girl then fucked her?"

   "I guess.  Something like that."

   "Don't be shy about it.  You had a good time, didn't you?  What's wrong
with that?"

   "Sure, sure I had a good time."

   "Y'now?" she said, her voice dropping, "you could have a good time with
me?"

   "I couldn't," he replied, "it wouldn't be right."

   "Ariana's getting fucked, Rica's probably been giving head to that young
guy down the street, Suella couldn't wait to leave, did you see that?" she
grinned, "and I bet mom and dad are doing it right now.  Everyone's getting
some except, you...  and...  me." With those last three words, she moved
nearer and put her arms around him.  "Fuller," she looked up at his face
with a serious expression, "sleep with me?"

   Sighing, Fuller put his arm around Ella's shoulders as they walked
slowly out of the bathroom and towards her room.

   ---------------------------------------------------

   Back in Seattle, Washington, Bob Garland, an engineer working for the
Boeing company, began to consider the commercial advantages of someone with
direct knowledge of the future.  He'd been at Austin when the mysterious
flight 1070 had landed.  He'd watched awestruck as pieces of the plane had
disappeared, apparently back to the future.

   He had a project in mind, a consultancy, but it would have to be
carefully managed.  A consulting engineer had always been one of his
ambitions.  He'd thought about running his own company a lot, but had been
put off by the stiff competition in the aviation industry.  He needed an
edge and thought one of those German pilots would provide it.

   He'd seen plenty during the brief time he'd got inside that aircraft. 
He'd seen the electronics, the design, and construction ideas used in the
21st century.  The 747 had been designed way back in the late sixties, but
had evolved considerably in the intervening 40 years.

   He drew a manila folder from his filing cabinet.  It contained the long
shelved plans for his company.  He headed a fresh sheet of paper with,
'Future Trends in Aviation.' Then, leaving it blank, he inserted it into an
envelope.

   -----------------------------------------------

   Reiner Kurzbach finished the best meal he'd eaten since landing in the
Soviet Union.  It was a genuine T-Bone steak, at least an inch thick. 
Everything had been cooked and prepared to his precise instructions. 
Marina checked several times whether the dinner met with his requirements.
She was apprehensive until he gave the nod of approval.

   Sumilov had requested his presence again that afternoon.  He was anxious
to find out whether he was part of a unit and what his 'mission' was.  He
explained that the military was pestering him for information.  They were
alarmed, apparently, about a possible 'time attack' by the West.

   "Tell them I don't know," Kurzbach replied, "who knows what they've done
in the future?"

   Once again Sunilov asked him on what principle their time device
functioned.  Did they use a field generator, and what was the size of it?
How did they solve the power problem?

   Kurzbach sought through his memory for tid bits of theory he'd heard
Fuller espouse.

   "A field generator?" he teased, "how quaint!  I'm afraid we've moved on
from that.  I believe the answer lies in time rifts.  You understand, I'm
not a scientist, so..."

   "Of course, of course," the Professor put up his hand, "I fully
understand.  You are an operative, an explorer, of course you wouldn't have
the technical details.  But...  ah...  you have seen it, yes?  You know
what it looks like?"

   "Naturally.  A time rift is something like a mini black hole..."

   "Ah!  A black hole?  Of course!" Sumilov cried, clapping his hands
together.

   "...  and you need an emitter...  to produce the temporal flare needed
to..."

   "Temporal flare?" Sumilov said in awe.

   "To displace time?  The secret to the power issue is intensification.  I
think similar to a laser beam in principle, but using temporal forces, not
light."

   "And these temporal forces?  How do you produce them?"

   "I...  I don't have that technical knowledge," Kurzbach confessed.

   Sumilov looked disappointed.  "Perhaps," he pondered slowly, "perhaps,
if you see what we've done, you may suggest things?"

   Kurzbach agreed and the Professor strode out barking orders at some
hitherto invisible aides.  Presently he returned and, smiling, beckoned
Reiner to follow him.

   Kurzbach was led through a series of underground tunnels.  As they went
down each level, the air grew noticably warmer.  The walls of the tunnels
consisted of ceramic tiles and on the roof, aluminium alloy buzzbars that
disappeared into the ceiling at intervals.

   "Leakage conductors," explained the Professor, as he saw Reiner looking.
"We are dealing with extreme voltages." Indeed, the very air seemed to give
him goosebumps and Kurzbach became aware of a high frequency buzzing in his
ears.

   At last the Professor opened a door into a control room.  Through thick
glass, he saw what he was brought to see.

   The room was immense, all underground, and must have cost a fortune to
construct.  The machine was of similar proportions, painted slate grey,
cylindrical in shape and stretched wall to wall.  Above his head was a
diagram of the machine's workings with lights indicating various sensors.
Sumilov told him there was a similar size room next door that housed the
power supply relays and transformers.

   Kurzbach was astounded by the size of the thing.  Already he suspected
it was a colossal waste of effort as it wouldn't produce any significant
results.  He assumed Fuller would have told him if the Russians had been
successful.  If anyone knew, he would.

   Sumilov told him the chamber itself was less than half a metre in length
and around 100 millimetres wide.  Radio-active particles the size of dust
were held in suspension and slowly circulated within the chamber and bathed
in an intense electro-magnetic field.  Sensors measured changes in the
pattern of the particles to indicate whether they'd receded in time.  The
results were measured in micro-seconds.  The costly enterprise brought a
smile of derision on Kurzbach's face.  Only the Soviet Union, he thought,
could pour such resources into such a useless project.

   "No," he shook his head, "it will not work.  It is clearly the wrong
principle!  Could you imagine what effect such an intense dose of magnetic
radiation would have on a living being?"

   "We didn't think it was possible sending a human being by this method.
You're right, a person wouldn't survive such a field," Sumilov said.  "So,
what does your machine look like?"

   "Smaller!"

   "Smaller?"

   "Yes, much smaller!"

   "Ah!" Sumilov furrowed his brow in thought.

   "And an antenna!"

   "Antenna?"

   "Like so!" Reiner described a pair of rabbit's ears with two upright
fingers.  The Professor scowled, then left the room.  Kurzbach wondered
whether he'd overdone it.

   ------------------------------------------

   Ella Hernandez was what Fuller described as an 'initiator,' a temptress,
who knew what she wanted.  Her dark, sultry eyes went slightly out of focus
as she slid and squirmed against him.  Her hand went straight to his butt,
her fingers struggling to find their way past his belt.

   Fuller couldn't remain immune to her attention.  He doubted anyone with
male hormones swimming inside could resist.  She made him feel privileged.

   She traced a finger sexily along his jaw and smiled with a look of pure
seduction.  Her lips were soft and moist and played with his.  An
exploratory rub of his erection produced a click of approval.  Ella
whispered in his ear that she 'preferred them this way.'

   Then she danced away as if this was another big tease.  But Fuller was
no-longer thinking rationally and grabbed her around the waist to push her
on her back on the bed.

   Fuller watched her as she giggled.  Again, her breasts jiggled beneath
her shirt, her nipples now pushing up against the cotton.  He took off his
shirt as she watched, then dropped his trousers.  She put up he arms as he
came to her, opening her mouth to accept his kiss.

   ---------------------------------------------
   KATZMAREK (C)

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| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
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|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
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