Katrina's Fan Fiction | Fan Fiction Site | Home Page
This page was last updated: July 12, 1998
ŠJuly 1998
URL: ../../STO/sog/sog2summer9.htmlThe following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights.
It was like flying and that feeling filled my mind as I melted into the flow of traffic, and wound my way towards my home. A thought occurred to me on the way and I stopped and checked my business card and breathed a total sigh of relief. They hadn't moved me while I was in the office.
Truthfully, I wouldn't have put it past them. I was, however, grateful that one level of dignity had remained. My home, untresspassed. Mostly.
I don't know what happened. I don't know what the trigger was. I just remember my hand gripping the doorknob, opening it, and placing one well heeled foot in the entryway. I remember walking to the kitchen, pulling my medication out of the purse and trying to open the damn thing. I always seem to press those caps wrong.
I remember straining with it, struggling as if I were grappling with Atlas himself. It was a battle that should have been concluded in thirty seconds. But, one second I was trying to open the bottle, and the next, I was suddenly fighting my inner demons.
I found out that the childproof seal of the bottle is *very* breakable when it is hurled with sufficient force against a wall. Dull-colored tablets, my happiness-in-a-bottle, rained out across the carpet and flashed back at me. They became screaming faces of battle dead, raising rifles and banners against me. My lovers on the other side. The wind I was to sing down. Torment. My hands dripped crimson. My carpet became a field of blood colored flowers.
But Gaia herself couldn't rescue me. I was utterly lost to the moment and trapped in the now where she never was. My emotions and thoughts were in such a stew and boiled over like lava, destroying everything in its wake.
I heard Mel, my Mel, the high priestess, not this false Mel who knew too much about me and not enough, in the background chanting. I broke the radio to shut her up because Dr. Gabrielle said I shouldn't listen. Her voice was still there, and changed, broadened to include Jan's rough wolfish purr. I tried to turn off the TV. It wouldn't go off. I kept seeing faces. My lovers' faces all unreachable. I don't think I even felt the glass as I punched through the screen to try and touch them. My hands came back with cables and what not, when all I wanted was to touch their flesh. I bore no wounds, but felt them all.
To touch. To be touched. I so longed to be touched; to fill the way their skin sung to me. To remember their aliveness. They were alive, remember. But it was my fault that they'd been burned, melded together. The three goddesses. My goddesses. My gods. My family.
Forgive us our debts. . .Forgive us. Forgive me.
Touch me. Talk to me. Fill me. Feel me. I wailed my need and destroyed everything, almost, in my path. The sounds, I'm sure, of glass breaking, wood being smashed, cloth being torn, passed through those thin walls. "Where's Joni! I WANT JONI!!! I want MEL!! I want my Family!!" I screamed into someone's innocent ear. "Where are they!! Where ARE they!!" I didn't recognize the voice that tried to talk to me so I ripped the phone out of the wall. Their noise was an offense, when I was trying to hear my lovers speak.
I spent myself, it seemed, mangling everything. I wound up on the ratty beige sofa that had been with me since my early college days. It was my sleeping giant, too damn big to throw, and my mind too weary to carry it. I was cradled in it's valleyed belly, curled like a baby in a mother's womb; rocked to a kind of quietude by it's gentle familiar creak. Some subtle noise, the creak, perhaps of the springs as I moved, awakened me. Oh.
Gods.
I could have laughed, if only I'd the energy. Amazon Incorporated wanted this? They wanted a woman who threw a fit at not being able to open a bottle? What wisdom could I possibly offer that would make this worth it to them?
None of my neighbors had apparently called the police, though I couldn't imagine why. I was now grateful my pay was so high. I'd need it to replace the TV, VCR, and various pieces of furniture I'd managed to destroy. Though maybe, given my state of mind, it was better that it was all gone.
You can't destroy what isn't there.
I couldn't harm those who were not present.
I felt numb with it all, from Joni's confusing treatment of me, to my employer's seeming disregard for protocol and simple basic rights. I stifled the reactive giggle at how close those speedsters had come to being shot off the road. I was all for safer roads, but c'mon!
The stress finally caught up with me. Soon I was doubled over with wrenching sobs. The hot sweltering tears flowed down cheeks and nose to wet the surface of the couch. It was well used to it by now I suppose. I cried often enough for what I couldn't have. I probably could have made a bundle off the salt market if I could figure out how to retrieve it from upholstery.
I *hated* all of them right then. I hated Sal for getting me into this, and Pony for actually hiring me, and Ms. Curly for looking so tempting, and Solarnov because she was so damn intimidating that she was damn near irresistible...
I *really* hated Mel because around her I immediately felt at home and didn't want to leave...And I knew deep in my bones she wasn't the right one. She was just...close enough.
And Joni?
Just thinking her *name* was sufficient to launch me into a fresh rage. At least a mental one, the rest of me was too worn out to do more than leak tears. Gods, did the woman have any clue of the power she had over me?
What the hell did she mean by "Have you been dreaming of me?" Except she hadn't said that had she? She'd not even touched me, save to grab my elbow and shove me around a bit.
How close? How close to the truth was that dream? Was she really...really my Joni..Callisto?
Trouble with all this was... At the moment, I couldn't envision a life that didn't involve their presence. The spillover emotions included Sol and Curly. I think it was just because my body was awakening to desires that had long been dormant. Just as well I'd already been hired, otherwise they'd have a regular stalker on their hands.
As I realized this, the aching hunger I had for all of them made me cry all the harder. In seconds I was shaking like a leaf, my breath coming short and my heart breaking over and over. There was simply no way for me to approach any of them. Joni had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me...Mel and Pony were my bosses, and so out of reach...even Sol and Curly were off-limits.
Eventually, the tears ran out and I was able to uncurl myself from the tight little ball I'd become. Joints and tendons protested, which coupled with the darkness outside told me it was time for bed. I would have stayed in the haven that was my couch, but perhaps it would be better to take myself into my room.
****** I went through the motions of preparing for rest. I showered, hung up my new 'suit', and put out my underthings for tomorrow. I tried really hard not to think about the mess I'd made of the rest of the apartment. I would have to clean it soon enough. I was fortunate I'd not made it into my room. Things could have been worse. I also tried really really hard not to think about a certain blonde wildcat.
I really didn't have much success on either front.
My body was flushed with desire by the time I was "settled." All my thoughts had centered on that one moment of fantasy, being thrown upon the desk, coming so close to being released. Then they moved.
I refelt the way her hands had splayed along my back in the push into the elevator and imagined them softening and sliding down to my buttocks, warm, firm. The forcefulness of our encounter, true and false, took my breath away. It made me wonder at myself, at the way I responded, even when her touch was painful to me. Was I a masochist? Not all the time..but..in the right places? Maybe. Maybe.
It didn't matter.
I knew my desire for her was a symptom, part of the whole of what made me. My sexuality, I knew, was tied to my spirit. And now it was awake, but to what? A dream figure, or the real thing? And in the knowing, I sure didn't feel very spiritual. I just knew that it was so. That my desires were sparked by something deeper than me; something deeper which I recognized, but couldn't name.
I wondered how I'd look in leather...which immediately brought to mind images of Joni, of Callisto, in a studded bra and mail skirt, black leather hiding her thighs which would part so deliciously. I felt the High pitched wails of triumph pouring from her mouth as she fought; Her eyes as mad as mine. I felt the way Her touch blazing through me. I could hear Her throaty laugh of pleasure when she came. And I knew. I KNEW how delectable she looked when she rocked her hips to the Aphrodite's dance, whether by my hand or another's sweet loving. I wanted them. I missed them. I wondered if she missed them too. Or if this loop I had made was simply tied around my own neck.
After an hour of not-not-thinking about her, I conceded defeat.
I threw back the bedsheets and let my hands take the place of her hands. In my dreams I would be had. In my dreams, my needs would be met. Buttons went flying as I tore my nightshirt open. My nipples hardened with a sweet ache, which accelerated with the simple brush of my fingers. They stiffed themselves upright as my cupped my breasts and played them out, with thumbs that teased. I imagined the way her tongue might feel wrapped around me. Licked my thumbs and felt the wetness as I circled the rim, and felt the way they crinkled and flushed. I could feel the heat rise from my body.
There was fire in my depths, fanned higher by the simple signal of touch. My breasts to core. The contact was overwhelming...and nowhere near enough. I needed to feel *all* over... needed *her* hands on me. Even rolling and pinching each nipple to the point of pain did nothing to alleviate the ache I writhed in. They just peaked all the harder, and I just needed all the more.
She was torturing me now, standing over me in leather that smelled of age and life, teasing me with small flashes of skin and her inviting smile. I groaned out her name as those phantom fingers teased my flesh, their ghostly touch antagonizing my nerves all the more.
I couldn't hold back any longer. One hand trailed down to my sweating core. I parted my legs, folding them back wide, so I could reach myself. The first slicked silk contact there forced my eyes open with a snap...
...and I saw *her* in the doorway.
I froze for a second. I analyzed the possibility of her really being there and rejected it as an impossibility. It was just another vivid fantasy. I knew it wasn't her. No way it could be her even though she was dressed now in her suit and skirt and heels. She wasn't there. I was sure of it, since she'd made it perfectly clear that she didn't want me.
No, she wasn't visiting me in my hour of need. She was a hallucination. It was just as well I had medication for that sort of thing. Pity it was decorating the carpet right then.
It didn't change the fact there was *no* way the real Joni could be standing there, watching me wank off to her name. There was No way she'd simply stand there, watching me watch her as she tugged her own blouse open and undo the fastenings of her skirt, one hand teasing a nipple erect while the other moved deep to her own cunt. Gods I wanted that cunt. I wanted her sweet liquid on my lips. I had to settle for this vision. This phantom Joni was so realistic it didn't even wear a bra or panties. I remembered this proclivity had caused many an embarrassed blush, and high erotic piquancy, in the locker room back at high school.
Seeing my dream swirl her fingers against herself, and then push in, reminded me of my own business, adding a bit of urgency to my already charged state. I groaned out to her again, barely able to stand the sight of my dream-Joni doing same things. The vision was clearly becoming even more aroused. She seemed to be as much in need as I was. Her knees were buckling. Her hand abandoned her breast to steady herself against the door frame. Her entire body was trembling with desperate tension. I wished for a moment that I was the frame.
My hips lifted off the mattress as my thumb flicked at my erect clit. The sensation was electric and threatened to send me over. I was deep inside, three fingers deep within my folds, plunging, feeling my own sweet wet heat. I was pushing back against myself, grunting out her name with each luscious stroke.
The dream saw this, and promptly doubled over, a feral growl of frustration rumbling out. She spun about, so her back was against the threshold and both hands now delved in that treasured region. Her blouse was completely open now, hiding nothing, and I could see her twin globes shaking from the force of her pleasure. Another guttural cry drifted out, and she slid to the floor, head shaking in a futile denial of the inevitable.
Her passion sounded as I "remembered." Her cries thrilled through me with delirious intensity. I surrendered the battle, too beyond the denial. I could only writhe and twist with the force of my orgasms. I called out her name...some name...before flopping back down to the mattress and twisted bedsheets, suddenly weary.
I looked to see if she were there. I expected that my vision had disappeared with the orgasm. They normally do. But, Joni, the dream, was curled into a loose ball, conveniently hiding everything from easy view, clearly having everything to show. One lip had been taken between her lips, and her eyes shone with tears. I turned towards her, reaching with eyes made soft by the after glow. I would have embraced her then, if I could have moved. If she were real. But, I was too exhausted and she was, typically, too far away.
If ever the real Joni showed up, we would have to work that out. Instead, I pursed my lips and blew a small kiss her way. Then I closed my eyes helplessly and whispered with all the need in my heart, "I wish you were here..." before drifting off. The sounds of her quiet sobs soothed me to sleep.
Katrina's Fan Fiction | Fan Fiction Site | Home Page
This page was last updated: July 12, 1998
ŠJuly 1998
URL: ../../STO/sog/sog2summer9.html