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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimson@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} March Twenty-First [ FF cons ]
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If you are looking for more of "Time Out Of Time", this ain't it. You've
been warned. This is closer to the style of "Rain" and "Dancing With
Tears 
In My Eyes", if you liked those stories.

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 and you leave the headers intact. 
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 ]
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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