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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimson@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASS/M} Repost: March Twenty-First (FF, cons, dream) (CR #267 - 10,10,6)
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This story is close to the style of "Rain" and "Dancing With Tears In
My Eyes", if you liked them.

This does contain descriptions of female-female love and sexuality. It
also contains some depictions of consentual sex outside of the
bedroom. And perhaps, if you want to push the definition, some minor
exhibitionism. What can I say? I'm on an outdoors kick. Because of the
nature of the writing, please, if you are a minor, or don't like this
sort of thing, don't read it. Easy, huh?

Many thanks to Munk for kindly proofing this before it got posted.
She's a wonderful proof-reader. And her suggestions are always
appreciated.

As always, you can archive this, if you really want to, as long as you
aren't charging anybody to access it (including AVS) and you leave the
headers intact and refrain from changing anything about the story. I'd
appreciate a note to let me know where it is. Simple?

One last thing. Any resemblence to anyone, living or dead, is one hell
of a coincidence. If by any strange twist of fate you recognize anyone
in here, I'd love to hear from you. Truly, I would.

If you do read it, or have any comments at all, I'd love to hear from
you as well.

- Crimson


March Twenty-First [ FF cons dream ]
(c) March 1998
By Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

Lori felt herself falling. The sensation curious and simultaneously
frightening. A dark void seemed to swallow her, as though she wasn't
there. But she was.

She had just slipped into bed, the crisp sheets and the heavy
comforter providing a solace from the cold wind and sleet swirling
just outside the window. She hated winter. She was perpetually cold,
except when she was in bed. Or in Heather's arms.

She could still feel the lingering warmth of Heather's soft lips.
Still detect her soft scent on her fingers. Almost reexperience the
gentle love making in Heather's living room. Still remembered the
sight of Heather, as Lori had walked through the swirling snow to her
Pathfinder, standing, almost forlorn, in the doorway waving. Only her
satin nightgown protecting her small body from the ice and snow.
Shivering, but waiting for Lori to drive out of sight before finally
allowing herself to close the door against the elements.

Lori knew she should have stayed. Especially on a night like this.
Like she had wanted to. Like Heather had wanted her to. But she
couldn't. What if someone had seen her truck? Known somehow? Known
that Heather and her were sharing a bed. In love? She felt so guilty.
So unsure of herself. And Heather. God, she wished she was here. So
understanding. So patient. Waiting for her to understand herself. Her
feelings. All these stupid thoughts running through her mind. And
running away. Back to her empty apartment. And her comforter. Just not
the same as Heather's soft skin. A tear tracked slowly down Lori's
cheek, unheeded.

She closed her eyes. Unable to sleep with the howl of the wind
outside. Missing Heather. She shivered, despite the fact that she was
finally warm. The sound of the wind haunting her.

Somewhere far to the south and on the other side of the world, the sun
quietly slipped across the equator.

Then, falling. Her head swimming. Coloured lights. Spinning around
her. She fell. Through the fabric of time itself.

She felt warmth. Different. She finally braved opening her eyes. It
was twilight. A soft warm breeze ruffled her blonde hair as she raised
her head. Blonde? Her hair was a soft shade of chestnut. She touched
her hair, bringing the tresses in front of her eyes. Blonde. And
smelling of clover. She felt the soft grass beneath her body.
Confused, she turned over and sat up. Gazing through the soft light
surrounding her.

Lori took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Her nose tingling. The
air seemed cleaner somehow. Fragrant. The smells of a wet rain,
forest, mist, soft flowers and incense. She took another deep breath.
Holding it deep in her lungs. Savouring it.

She slowly climbed to her bare feet. She looked down. Bare? She
distinctly remembered wearing thick socks to bed. She had been so
cold. But this obviously was no longer her bed. And she was no longer
cold. A vivid dream, perhaps? She didn't remember falling asleep. She
idly pinched her arm. She didn't awaken.

She looked down at herself again. She was wearing a simple white robe.
Almost diaphanous. Swirling around her body as she moved. The slight
wind curling it around her as she stood. She could see the swelling of
her breasts as they pushed the fabric away from her body like gentle
hills. Felt the soft, almost caressing, touch as the unknown fabric
kissed her body. She brought her hands up. No nail polish? She pulled
the simple clasp holding the silken material together at her throat
away from herself. She almost laughed. Nothing underneath. This had to
be a dream. Despite not needing one, she rarely, if ever, went without
at least a bra. And those weren't her breasts. Similar, but not hers.

She turned slowly. Mist. Low rolling hills in all directions. And the
twilight almost eerie. Lighting up the scenery. Beautiful.

She heard faint voices. She knew she ought to be frightened. But she
wasn't. The voices strangely compelling. Her body reacting to the
almost chanting voices. Her bare feet began to move on the grass,
pulling her towards the source of the soft sounds. The hint of incense
intensifying as she walked slowly towards a hill. The diffused light
not allowing her to make a determination of direction. But it didn't
seem to matter.

As she crested the hill, she halted. Confused and unsure of herself. A
ring of stones had risen from the moor in the valley below. A flock of
people were assembled there. Softly chanting. Some had their faces
upturned towards her. Some facing in the opposite direction. All were
clad in simple white tunics. Barefoot. All female. There were small
fires burning to each side of the ring, sending fragrant smoke up into
the evening air.

She followed the gaze of the women not gazing at her and saw the faint
outline of another person. Female. Across the valley. Standing as Lori
was atop a small hill. She couldn't make out any other features of the
stranger through the mist. The faint figure reminded her of Heather.

The voices called to her. She could feel it deep in her being. The
calling. She felt like she was almost outside her body, watching as
she moved herself slowly down the hill, her bare feet whispering
through the grass. The other figure slowly moving down the hill
opposite, mirroring her movements.

She swallowed as she approached. Her heart in her throat. Not
understanding. Understanding not being required of her. As she
approached, she could hear the women's voices harmonizing. A haunting
sound, like bagpipes, but not, accompanying the beautiful voices. Some
ancient instrument. She didn't understand the women's words; the
language soft and harsh at the same time.

The women parted for her, making a path through themselves. Their
voices encouraging her to pass into the ring of stones. On the other
side of the circle, she could vaguely see the other figure, slowly
striding through the parted women on the opposite side. The other
figure was dressed as she. Diaphanous satin, bare feet. Her face, like
an angel. Deep red hair tumbling across her shoulders. Unfamiliar
features, and yet familiar. Lovely. The robes clinging then releasing
her body as she moved. The myriad of voices filling her senses.

Lori stopped in the center of the ring of stones. A raised dais,
perhaps a foot high, of dark granite grew from the soft grass. The
woman of the deep red hair also halted. The two women faced each
other, gazing at one another.

She couldn't control her tongue. She tried. Tried to call out to the
woman across the dais. Tried to speak her name. Instinctively trying
to call out to Heather. Call Heather's name. Though Heather looked
nothing like the ethereal woman across from her.

Lori's mouth opened and a metifluous voice, not her own, called out
clearly a single word, "Akana."

The voices surrounding the ring fell silent. The soft wind rustling
the fabric of the women's garments was the only sound. Even the fires
were silent.

"She-al." The other woman spoke softly in reply. Somehow Lori knew
that this woman was speaking her name. And that Akana was her own. The
light was fading. The mist curling over the granite between the women.

She watched as the other woman reached up to her throat, carefully
unclasping the gown. Letting it fall in a flutter of satin to the
grass. Standing proud. Her nudity glorious in the fading light. Her
bare breasts upthrust. Her skin inviting in the flickering of the
fires. Lori felt her own fingers as they unclasped her gown. Again,
the flutter of satin breaking the unearthly silence.

As she stepped up onto the platform, feeling the texture of the rock
beneath her soles, the voices rose again as one. Almost in
celebration. Rapture. Joy. The haunting notes softly flowing across
the expanse, filling the world. She could understand the music, if not
the language behind it.

The women embraced. Their soft skin pressing against one another.
Breathing laboured. Joining. Softly whispering each other's names.
Akana and She-al.

She-al, moved her body. They moved together. Letting the notes join
them. Move them. Dancing. Slowly. Together. Skin to skin. She-al, so
like Heather, but smaller. More demure. Raised her face. Eyes closed.
Lori, bending. Letting their lips touch. Allowing her tongue to trace
along She-al's lips. Softly. Moaning. Lori's body reacting to the
kiss. She could feel her heat, despite herself. She-al, so like
Heather, but not.

Lori felt her nipples rising, touching She-al's. Lori gasping at the
heightened sensations. Knowing this unfamiliar body. Feeling the
closeness. Fingers wandering. Caressing. The voices. Rising. Flooding
the women with sound and energy. The fingers finding secret places.
But knowing the secrets. Somehow. Tracing curves. Breasts. Shoulders.
Throats. Bellies. Between their legs. Probing further. Inside. Soft
cries mixing with the surrounding music.

They lowered themselves to the harsh rock, their bodies feeling the
rough texture of the stone. Cool beneath them. She-al's fingers
finding her again. The music joining the women. Understanding. At the
climax, they would be one. Committed to each other. Loving each other.
Forever.

The voices reached a crescendo. Lori aware of herself. Of She-al. Of
the music. Of her fingers. The softness of She-al. The music filling
her as she climaxed to She-al's touch. Crying out quietly. Hearing
She-al's delicate voice crying out as she, too, reached her orgasm.
Their voices harmonizing with the voices surrounding them.

Lori felt her heart hammering beneath her ribs. Feeling intense love
for this stranger. Feeling like she'd known her all her life. Shared
happiness. The wonders of her life. Shared her grief. Wanted to spend
her life with this woman. Loving her. Forever.

The two women kissed once more. Tenderly. Knelt, waiting. The voices
around them slowly silenced. The shadowy figures filing away into the
mist. One approaching, her white tunic floated through the mists
towards the kneeling, naked, flushed women. An elder.

"Akana. She-al. Maresque," the elder intoned softly, her fingers
touching the women's slightly damp hair.

It was done. Lori kissed She-al once more. Tasting her lips. Kissing a
tear from her cheek. Salty. Melding with Lori's senses. The elder
turned silently away, disappearing into the mists.

Lori felt herself falling again. The darkness enveloping her as she
descended once again into the dark depths. Lights flashing behind her
eyes. Dizzy. Crying out.

She opened her eyes. Disoriented. She lifted the covers. Nightgown.
Socks. She ran her hand through her long hair. Pulling it in front of
her eyes. Soft chestnut. She pulled at the throat of her nightgown.
She recognized her own breasts. She felt it; it wasn't a dream.
She-al. She could still feel her wetness, her lips, her closeness, her
love. The sharp taste of the salt from her tears. Tears brimmed over
Lori's eyes, unbidden. A deep sense of loss. A deep wanting within her
breast.

She slipped out from beneath her warm covers. The wind had quieted
outside. She hurriedly threw on her clothes. Knowing what she wanted.
Needed. She almost left the apartment without her shoes. Turning,
slipping her feet into her boots, she left at a run. Almost forgetting
to lock her door behind her.

The night was deepening. Not much traffic after the storm. She drove
quickly, but carefully. The Pathfinder tracking through the slush.
Wanting to get there alive, but needing to get there. Now. Something
calling her.

She pulled into the driveway. Ran up the walk. Rang the bell. Waited.
Not feeling the biting cold as she normally did. Shifting her weight
from foot to foot. Heather answered the door, dressed only in her
satin nightgown. Shivering. Worried. Her face as flushed as Lori knew
her own must be.

Lori desperately tried to speak her name. Make her understand.
Understand how much she needed her. How much she loved her.

"She-al." Lori's lips formed the only word she could.

"Akana."







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