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From: otzchiim@aol.com (Otzchiim)
Subject: [Otzchiim] Parting Gesture (m/f, cons, friendship)
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                        PARTING GESTURE 
                                
     In the June when Melanie Johnson was twenty, she moved from the little
mining town in western Pennsylvania where she was born to Washington, D.C.  The
jobs up her way were few and poor, and she hoped that she would be better off
there. 
     She was wrong, at least in the short run.  The work wasn't all that steady
then, with a lot of federal cutbacks throwing everything off.  Even so Melanie
thought she would have made it, if it weren't for a couple of robberies and her
own bad judgement in picking boyfriends.  She had not in any sense had much
experience with men before she moved to D.C., but she learned a lot in the year
she was there.  Some of it too late. 
     Melanie Johnson met Frank Taylor at about the time she first moved down.
He was introduced to her as a friend of somebody who worked with her in her
first job, and he kind of crossed her path time and again; parties, the
neighborhood supermarket, just seeing him on the street.  He was always polite
and friendly, and a couple of times -- well, it's like this. 
     Most of that year she was living with a man whose name doesn't matter
here, because Melanie worked on forgetting it herself.  He was the first man
she ever lived with.  He moved in with her halfway through that year and he
locked her out of the apartment near the end of it, after a fight.  
     Melanie knocked on Frank's apartment door at one o'clock on the Monday
morning in April that it happened and she stayed there for three days until she
could get her (now-ex)boyfriend thrown out. 
     Frank loaned her the money to buy a new lock then.  Earlier in the year he
had come in and identified what was wrong when the toilet acted up.  At the end
of that year he helped her pack and ship her stuff back to Pennsylvania.  She
had given up on living alone for a while and was going to move back in with her
parents  It takes much less money to starve up there. 
     While Melanie was packing up she was thinking that Frank had been such a
good friend that she wished she had money to buy him a nice something for a
going-away present.  Silly, of course, since if she had any money she wouldn't
be going away.  Melanie was just thinking that thought as she set down a box of
clothes and turned around.  She caught his eyes on her as she turned, on her
t-shirt and shorts, and she realized that she certainly did have something that
he would appreciate.  She had never thought of him that way, but she could have
done worse.  She damn well had, most of this year.  
     When they took the last boxes into the Greyhound station to ship north,
Melanie told him that she was going to turn in the apartment keys to the
landlord on Sunday morning, the next day, and she asked him if he would be home
in the afternoon.  He said yes, he usually was on Sundays. 
     Melanie went back to her apartment that night and slept on an
air-mattress.  It was kind of strange and bare; what hadn't been shipped had
been sold or given away, except for what would fit in one suitcase.  She lay
there before drifting off to sleep thinking about Frank and wondering whether
she really should follow her impulse toward him.  
     She showed up at his place about one the next afternoon with her one
suitcase in hand.  She greeted him with a kiss -- the first time she had ever
kissed him -- and Melanie said:  "Frank, you've helped me a lot this past year.
 You've fed me at times.  You put me up the time John locked me out of the
apartment we had then.  Maybe more important, you've given me someone to talk
to, and given me a lot of good advice -- I wish I'd had the sense to take more
of it." 
     "I don't think I've done any more than common decency requires," he told
her. 
     "Frank, you just don't know what you are talking about!  It's nowhere near
common in this world.  I couldn't pay you enough money for what you've done for
me in this past year.  I don't even have the money to buy you a proper gift,
but I can certainly give you one thing that you haven't had, which I could
plainly see that you wanted, and that's my body.  That's what I came here for
today." 
     Frank was kind of taken aback by this. 
     He said after a bit: "You're right in thinking that I have admired your
body at times.  You have a very nice figure and a cute face.  The only thing
that has kept me from trying to go after you is that you were hooked up with
John pretty much from the time that you moved down here. 
     "But do you really think, Melanie, that you want to do a thing like this?
This seems, well, too much like a business deal.  I'd wonder about your
self-respect.  Or have you really been wanting me yourself all this time?"
     "Yes and no," she replied.  "Yes, I really want to do this.  No, I haven't
really wanted you all this time, or at least I haven't been thinking about it
all this time.  But the more I think about it now, the more I think I should
have been wanting you.  You are a good man, and I want to say goodbye in a way
that we both will remember." 
     "Well," Frank said as he pulled her to him, "I can think of possibilities
there..." 
     Over the next few minutes they carefully undressed each other. They were
both a bit nervous and excited; the nervousness may not have shown much, but
the excitement had its physical signs and that was a plus, probably. 
     The signs of Frank's excitement became very noticable in a short time.
While Melanie would not claim that she'd seen a lot of erections, his was
thicker than as any she had ever seen before.  She had a lot of trouble looking
at anything else once the bulge started showing, and even more once it was
exposed. 
     When they were both naked, Frank spread a towel across the bed and turned
on the shower.  They stepped in it together.  When they had washed clean, with
only a few touches and fondlings to detour them, he took Melanie in his arms
and held her close.  They kissed each other, long deep kisses, until they felt
the log of flesh hot between their bellies.  She reached down to touch it and
said, "This is certainly nothing like a business deal now.  Maybe it's a
challenge.  How do you keep from being talked about with something like that
going for you?"  
     "I try to stick to women who keep their mouths shut," he told her
mock-sternly.       "Oh, my, shutting my mouth on that would be a very nice
idea!"
     Frank groaned at her joke.  She dropped down then and shut her mouth for a
while, stuffed it and stretched it really, and soon he groaned again for
different reasons. 
     When Melanie broke off to smile up at him, he pulled her to her feet to
kiss her again.  Then he put his hand between her legs and used his fingers
until she was as wet inside as she was out.  He finally inserted a finger and
ran it around to feel the ridges inside of her.  Then he leaned back against
the wall, put his hands on her behind, and lifted her.  Melanie put a hand down
to guide him, and she took a long breath in as his long tube went up and up.
    The force of gravity drove him into her as far as was humanly possible, a
little more than was possible any other way.  Then Frank stood up straight and
lifted and lowered her on his pole, with her legs wrapped around him and her
mouth open slightly.  By a paradox, gravity gave them the closest thing on this
earth to sex without gravity, and Melanie was thankful that she was small and
light enough and Frank was strong enough for it to work. 
     But his muscles grew tired in time, and they moved to the bed -- she now
saw why he put the towel down -- where they continued.  It wasn't clear how
long they continued, but he plainly was trying to make it last, and Melanie
climaxed several times before that last exhausting rush of pleasure.  Later he
got up to turn off the shower. 
     As they lay there drying, before they dozed off for a while, Melanie said
to him: "Those people doing the fireworks on the Mall on the Fourth should come
to you for advice..." 
     Frank took her down to the Greyhound station when it got close to the time
for her bus to leave.  She told him that she wanted to write to him, and he
promised that he would answer.  It was slow and irregular on her part, but they
both lived up to our promises.  After another year she moved to D.C. again; but
Frank was then involved with another woman.  He was a wonderful man, she felt,
and Melanie wished him happiness wherever he found it.  
     When they walked into the Greyhound station, they went across the little
park in the middle of the street and a street-corner shouter was holding forth.

     "And remember that the BIBLE tells you that the WAGES of SIN is DEATH!"
     While that preacher would certainly not approve, Frank thought maybe
Melanie demonstrated something about the wages of virtue.  The virtue of
charity, at least. 


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