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From: mswillow@juno.com (Jeannette C Wilson)
Subject: Us Three, part 8
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Tgff, rom, spank, interracial, intergenerational, mild BDSM, Witchcraft
This story contains sex, full frontal nudity, bondage, SM, transsexuals,
lesbians and a few other things that might not be legal in your locale.
If you do not choose to read about this, or if it is illegal for you to
do so, do not read it. Skip it in its entirety. Avoid it at all costs.
However, if you wish to continue, you may find this isn't your typical
wank story. Each part has something of a plot, or at least a reason
for happening, and the whole story is filled with very much love and
romance, and a moderate amount of sex. Sorry, guys looking for typical
TG stories won't find this one real interesting. Tough. It is, however,
realistic. It's about me ("Jeannette" aka "Jean"), my fiancee Michelle
(aka Chelle), and another friend of mine, Rachel. None of this story
actually happened, and I've never met Rachel in real life, yet I've tried
to show us all realistically, as we might have done the events described.
I wrote most of this a year ago. It is my second-ever attempt at writing
anything serious. Once I finish it, I'll also post the first attempt,
which I call "Rewards." I call this one, "Us Three."
Enjoy.
Blessed Be
Jeannette
mswillow@nomorespam.juno.com
Oh, just because I'm sharing this with y'all doesn't mean that it's not
copyrighted. It is. However, I WILL let y'all make copies of it, ifn
you give me the credit (or assign me the blame) for having written it.
If you're making money off of it, that's great too. Hope you make a
big-assed pile of it, so you can roll around in it and retire forever,
and hire Bill Gates to lick your shoes clean for you. Just please keep
me as the author of this, ok? Thanks. Jeannette
Us Three copyright (c) 1997, 1998 Jeannette Cathy Wilson
Part Eight
A parent's worst nightmare - staying up late on a rainy night,
waiting for her child to return, when the phone rings. Hello?
Yes, this is she. Oh my Goddess! Is she OK? Where is she?
I'll be right there. *click*
I rouse Michelle and let her know that Rachel's been in an
accident. She hurriedly dresses, jeans and a tee-shirt and her
boots and she's ready. I still haven't undressed yet - a quick
check in the mirror, some more powder, grab my purse and keys
and we're off in the Jeep.
While we drive, Michelle wants to know what happened. All I
can tell her is what the hospital told me, that she'd been hit
driving down Third, apparently coming home from the library.
We pull into St. Joseph's lot, thankful for the 'Clergy' tags I
got years ago (Dianic Wiccan High Priestess and legally
ordained Minister).
We go to the Emergency room to see Rachel. She's alive, just
badly banged up. Her face is a mess - apparently she wasn't
wearing her helmet, but she survived anyway. I can't cuss her
out for this, I'm just glad she's alive.
"Love, what happened? Are you OK?"
"I'm OK, sort of. Hurts a lot, but they say that I'm OK. I
think I broke my leg, tho, and the bike's all squashed. Some
guy in a black van blew a stop doing about fifty, and when I
tried to get out of his way, the bike went down. Thank Goddess
I was thrown clear - I remember him hard on the brakes as he
hit the bike, barely missed me, then he was hard on the gas,
running away. I got most of his license plate number, tho."
Rachel smiled. Good girl! She keeps her head even in a
crisis.
"Did you tell the police that?" Michelle asks.
"Yeah, just after they got me here. I told them the whole
story, they got my license and insurance and stuff."
"Oh, sweetie, I'm just so glad you're going to be OK!" I said.
Both Chelle and I leaned over to kiss her. While Chelle stayed
with her, I went out to find the police officer whom I spied
while coming in.
"Are you her parent, Ma'am?"
"Well, not exactly, but close enough. She's in my care while
she's in school."
"Can I get your name and address, in case we need to get in
touch with her?"
"Sure, no problem, Officer." He got the info down in his
notebook.
We stayed until they let her go home, wheeled out to the
Cherokee with her leg in a cast. I had Michelle put the
crutches in the back, while I helped Rachel get in. We all got
buckled up tight, reminded of our mortality by this accident,
and I carefully drove us home as dawn was forlornly creeping
over the city. When we got home, I called work to say that I
wouldn't be in, and called Rachel's folks to let them know. Of
course, they came right over and fussed over her for an hour or
so, but eventually they left, re-assured that Rachel was OK.
Days passed, and we settled into a slightly different routine.
I took Chelle's Gold Wing to work, so that she could drive
Rachel to school. We had Rachel's Yamaha taken to a shop, and
eventually it got repaired. $500 deductible, and they raised
our rates after that. The insurance company dicked us around
on every little detail, as is their job I guess. I kept
checking to see if the police had caught the guy who did it,
but they still hadn't caught him. The van he used turned out
to be stolen - they did find it, and most of a case of empty
beer cans in it, but not the driver.
Finally, exasperated at how little progress was being made, I
had a talk with my grrls.
"Grrls, you know there *is* something we can do to help.
Magik. I want the son-of-a-bitch who did this to my grrlfriend
caught. Would you two like to help?"
"Sure, Jean!"
"Yeah, when can we start?"
"How about tonight? I need to lay in a few supplies first."
We agreed, and I set off in search of a few things... some
candles, some charcoal, some incense, stuff like that.
That night, I made us a wonderful spaghetti dinner - doing real
magic takes effort, and I didn't want anybody passing out.
After cleaning up the dishes, I gathered my grrls together in
the bedroom, which is our most-sacred space. I lit some
charcoal in my little brass censer, lit the candles for light,
and put some intense trance-inducing dance music in the CD
player. I called the four corners for protection and cast a
circle, bringing us three to a place that is no place, in a
time that is no time. As the grrls clapped in time to the beat
to raise power, I called for our Goddess, Diana, to help us.
"Diana, we're here, so please let you be near. My lover's been
hurt, she's been treated like dirt and she wants it fixed, so
please now, no tricks. Driving home in the dark, she was
nearing the park when some guy blew a light. Imagine her
fright! Into Rachel he crashed, and her leg got all smashed,
then he turned tail and ran, cruising off in the van. He
caused her much pain, driving fast in the rain in some other
guy's car driving home from a bar. We want this guy found, in
handcuffs be bound, to be thrown in the jail where he'll sigh,
cry and wail."
The grrls started chanting in time to the music, raising more
power. I continued the spell.
"I know it's not fun, but let justice be done. The police
force is stumped by this drunken young punk. Your help we do
seek, we must find this geek ere he injures another, a sister
or brother. Let him trip, let him fall, on his belly he'll
crawl to the arms of The Law where, by flapping his jaw he'll
confess to his crime and they'll make him do time."
As the song neared its end, I raised pulled the power into my
hands, building a large ball of pure magical energy. I eyed my
grrls, and they nodded, ready for the ending.
"We want this job done by the dawn of the Sun," and then, in
unison, "By the voice of us three, an we say, MAKE IT BE!" As
the song crashed to its finale, I hurled the ball of Power
skyward, to Diana, to help her in her job.
We stopped, out of breath. I gathered my two young grrlfriends
into my arms, proud of them. Tired as we were, the hugs of
comfort soon turned semi-amorous. We retired to bed and made
slow, tired-but-pleased love, taking care not to move Rachel's
leg too much. Each time I saw her wince in pain, I fired
another shot towards the guy who'd hurt her. The energy we
raised from the love-making, I put into healing Rachel's
injured leg.
Two days later, we got the telephone call from the police.
Seems they had responded to an accident report last night.
Some drunken young guy in a stolen Camaro had lost control and
hit a tree. The switchblade he had in his belt had tripped
upon impact, slicing into his penis. The police arrived to
find him crawling around, blood all over his jeans, trying not
to bleed to death. Once they got him through the emergency
ward, and ran his fingerprints, they matched the ones in the
stolen van. When confronted with this, he confessed to both
the theft and hitting "some longhaired biker." Rachel
positively IDed him in a lineup a few days later, and
eventually he did serve five years for a variety of offenses.
Rachel's leg healed rather faster than usual (gee, I wonder
why? Could the power we put into it in our near-nightly
lovemaking sessions have helped?). When I drove her home from
the hospital with her freshly-healed leg, she thanked me in the
best possible way.
"Jean," she said, "first off, I would like to thank you so very
much for all you've done for me. You're helping put me through
college, you help me with my Comp Sci homework, you bought me
the bike, you were there for me when I got hit, and you healed
me afterwards. You've always been there for me. No, for us,
cause you do the same for Michelle. Is there anything I can do
for you?"
I sat there, blushing. How to explain to this 18-year-old grrl
that she pleases me utterly just by being with me? That I had
never in my life believed I'd find one woman to love me-the-
person, let alone two such treasures? That she and Michelle were
helping me learn to actually *like* myself for who I am, and
forget about the past? I tried my best.
"Love, just be yourself. That, truly, is all that I need, just
knowing that you love me, and that I'm good for you."
I kissed her tenderly on her cheek, lay her head on my breast,
and cried tears of joy, peace and happiness.
_____________________________________________________________________
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